#mando x reader fluff
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Home (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)
A/N: Hey everybody! Here is a new Din Djarin fic! I don’t know if I’ve done this trope already...there’s a good chance I did. I had a version of this fic in my WIPs for a while, and I don’t think it ever made it out of the doc, so here it is. I hope you guys like it! It’s heavily based on “Home” by LCD Soundsystem.
Summary: Din learns the truth about your past...
Warnings: SMUT, 18+ fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), praise kink for sure, hurt to comfort, friends/idiots to lovers, Jedi!reader (implied conflict/is training Grogu), implied kidnapping (Inquisitors kidnap reader as child), cursing, Crest still exists because I’m lazy, probably grammar mistakes because again, I’m lazy.
Word Count: 3,661
Your lungs burn painfully as you sprint through the forest, dodging trees, maneuvering through the thicket. You swear Grogu is giggling in his little carrier strapped carefully onto your chest. “This is not funny, little guy,” You mumble in between breaths. Grogu babbles and giggles some more in response.
This was not how this training session with Grogu was supposed to go.
BANG! You flinch a bit to the left as a blaster shot whirls by, smashing violently into a tree, leaving a burning gaping hole in its wake. You make a sharp turn to avoid the tree as it crashes down in front of you. The dark troopers were closing in on you and Grogu; you could feel it. It was only a matter of time until they circled around you, blasters pressing at your back.
Another. BANG! The tree to your right comes crashing down a few feet away. You turn around for just a split second, searching for Din, for something, for a way out. They were gaining on you, you could see them coming from over the hill.
You press a button on your comlink. “Hey Mando?” You practically shout into it. “Things are getting a little messy over here.” Your words are panicked, jumbled.
“I’m almost there,” He reassures. “What’s going on?”
“Well, they’re-,” BANG! That answers his question.
“Just hold on, okay?” You can hear the fear in his voice; it wasn’t something you were used to. Din was normally confident, but this time there was a sense of insecurity, as if this time was going to end differently than all the others. As if he was afraid you weren’t going to make it.
You take a deep breath and navigate away from the now burning, fallen over trees. You turn around; the troopers were even closer than they were before. You swear there weren’t this many a few minutes ago. You turn to the left, trying to find another way out, but it’s too late. You were surrounded. You weren’t fast enough. Maybe this was the end.
“I am not getting killed by a bunch of droids,” You huff, raising your hands above your head. But the troopers don’t stop, they continue to creep closer towards you and Grogu, raising their blasters, readying to shoot, aiming to kill. “We are not going down like this kid,” You whisper, Grogu’s ears picking up as the words slip from your tongue.
The troopers finally stop, their metal joints freezing in place. Their blasters are still pointed towards you and Grogu. You swallow harshly, staring at your reflection in the metallic armor of the dark trooper directly in front of you. You watch closely as their robotic fingers hover over the trigger. You had one shot, one chance to get this right. You shut your eyes, waiting for it.
All at once. CLICK. BANG.
Your hands extend out. You can feel the energy pulsing through you. It’s controlled and stable. You slowly open your eyes, and hovering in the air are at least twenty violently shivering blaster rays, threatening to finish the job if you let go. You can feel the rays dancing under your fingertips, struggling against your grasp. You shut your eyes again, the tension of each one growing. You couldn’t hold this forever.
A new feeling abruptly shocks your system. It’s a certain power you haven’t felt in years. It rattles your bones, sending shockwaves throughout every inch of your body. There’s something delicious about it, tempting even. It’s powerful, yet intrusive, quickly invading your senses and taking over. You allow it to course through you fully. You can almost hear something calling out to you. Let go.
And so you do.
With a swift motion, you release the energy building up inside of you. It’s a radical feeling, but still somehow familiar. The shocks flow through the palms of your hands and out of your fingers. There’s a slight sting. It’s almost painful. And that’s when you remember exactly what this feeling is. Your eyes open wide, and you watch as electricity, and the blaster rays, shoot out towards the dark troopers, decimating them immediately.
Fire consumes the trees around you, embers quickly filling the air. You’re not sure if the electricity you just shot out of your hands caused this, or the blaster shots, or the dark troopers themselves. Most likely, it was some sort of messy combination of all three, which meant that you were in part to blame.
“Cyare?”
And Din saw the whole thing.
He’s standing just a few feet away from you. You can see the flames and carnage reflecting against his armor, and in the center of it all is you. This wasn’t a side of yourself that you wanted him to see, or even know about in the first place.
But it was too late for that now. “Din, I can expl-,”
He cuts you off, curt, emotionless. “We need to go.” You nod, taking slow strides towards the ramp of the Crest. You pass Din along the way. You want him to say something, to look at you, to move at the very least. But he doesn’t. He’s motionless, frozen in the aftermath of what you had done, of the secret you had tried so very hard to cover up.
You reluctantly step into the Crest, taking Grogu and his carrier off your shoulders, placing him in his crib. You throw the carrier to the ground. He gurgles something entirely unintelligible. There’s a tiredness in his grumblings. Good, you think to yourself. At least he’ll be asleep when you and Din have it out.
Din’s steps echo against the walls of the Crest. You know he’s disappointed. You can feel it. You should’ve told him the truth, told him who you were, told him that person isn’t who you are anymore. It’s certainly not the person you are with him. Din makes your past seem like some non-existent, intangible, fictional far-off tale. It was like he made you forget. No. He changed you, altered your brain chemistry, made you feel like you mattered. And not because he had to, but because he wanted to.
You needed him, and it scared you. You were almost afraid of the connection, of the dependency.
But he needs you too, you just don’t know it yet.
You wait a minute, trembling a bit in the hull, watching as Grogu’s eyes struggle to stay open. Within a few seconds, they’re closed. Din’s figure finally appears in the doorway. He’s apprehensive, tentative, as if he hasn’t made up his mind about coming inside. Your stomach knots, twinging as he finally steps all the way inside, pressing a button as the ramp shuts behind him.
He looks over at Grogu, fast asleep in his crib. A modulated breath escapes from under his helmet. It’s a sigh of defeat, of dejection. You build up the courage to stare into his visor, half expecting to get an indication of how he’s feeling. But there’s nothing, no sign of life save the shallow breaths slipping through his vocoder.
“Din, just let me explain.” It’s a plea, a solicitation for forgiveness.
But he isn’t buying it. “Did you lie to me?” There’s no anger in his voice, no agitation, not even an ounce of annoyance. It’s hurt, pain, possibly even betrayal, and that feels far worse than any vexation or outrage ever could. “Last time I checked, Jedi don’t use the force like that.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes breaking away from his glare. You know he’s staring at you under his helmet, searching for answers, trying to convince himself that what had just happened was a figment of his imagination. But it wasn’t. It was you. The past had caught up with your present, and now they’d fight for control.
“No, they don’t,” You pause, breathing deeply before continuing. “The Inquisitors kidnapped me when I was a kid. I was saved just a few months after the first Death Star was destroyed.” There’s a moment of relief before the fear of waiting for his response kicks in. You had told him the truth, and he wasn’t running away. Din was still in front of you, listening to every word you had to say.
He takes a few steps toward you, slowly closing the distance between you and him. “You could’ve told me that,” He whispers. “You should’ve told me.” He’s more assertive the second time around.
“I didn’t want you to think that I-I was still like that.” You can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, begging to be blinked away. “I d-didn’t want you to t-think I was some monster.”
“What are you talking about?” He finds himself being drawn even closer towards you, his gloved hands gravitating to yours, his fingertips brushing against your wrists as he presses his palms into your own. Home. The word flashes in your mind in big bright lights, your hands fitting perfectly into his. “How could you think I’d ever see you like that?”
“I could tell you were scared, when you saw what I did…” You trail off, your heart beating wildly out of your chest. “Maybe I shouldn’t be training the kid. Maybe I’m not…”
Din shakes his head. “Not what?”
“Not good enough,” You mumble, fighting back sobs. “If I can’t let go of my past, let go of those feelings…”
“No.” There’s no hesitance in his statement, no question, no consideration. Din means it. “Don’t think like that, mesh’la. You’re more than enough, more than the kid and I could’ve ever asked for.”
“But I-,”
He cuts you off again. “You protected Grogu. You protected me.”
“I lied to you, Din,” Your voice is soft, quiet, timid. “I did something I’d promise myself I’d never do again.” You blink a few times, letting the inevitable tears stream down your cheeks.
Din squeezes your hands lightly and lets go. Before you can internally grieve the loss of contact, he pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you. He had never been so gentle with you, so kind, so soft. This was so unlike him.
You sob into his beskar covered chest. The cold metal feels good against your burning cheeks. “I-I’m sorry.” You croak out, your voice reverberating through his armor.
“It’s alright,” He mutters, the top of his helmet coming down to rest on your head. “I’ve got you, it’s gonna be okay.” You sniffle as he whispers sweet reassurances in your ears, reminding you that you’re good enough, that he’s right next to you, that nothing bad is going to happen. “You should get some rest.”
You nod, and Din pulls you from his chest, stepping away from you and into the cockpit. You wish he was still next to you, his body pressed against yours. The closer you get to Din, the more dangerous things become. Luke and Ahsoka had told you the dangers of maintaining connections, building relationships. Ahsoka had been more forgiving, given that she believed in a more balanced way than the Jedi did. But Luke…Luke had been warning you for years.
Honestly, you didn’t care anymore. You wanted to forget Luke’s grating voice, to dispel each ideal he forced into your head. You wanted Din, needed Din. He was all that mattered now.
Forget your past
This is your last chance now
And we can break the rules
Like nothing will last
Luke’s warnings fade away as you search through your clothes for something more comfortable to wear. Naturally, there’s nothing clean, nothing that Grogu hadn’t spit up on.
There’s one shirt of Din’s that you had borrowed a few nights ago when he was out on a hunt by himself. It still smells like him, feels like him too. You like how you look in it, the way it hangs too long on you. You like that it’s his and not yours. You slip it on and walk out into the hull and towards the cockpit as the Crest takes off.
You can’t see it, but his eyes settle on your reflection in the viewport. He turns around to get a better look. His shirt is massive on you, falling just above your knees. He hadn’t expected to see you in his clothes, but fuck did you look good. He couldn’t hold back anymore, not after today, not after you had sobbed in his arms.
He needed to remind you of who you are. He needed to tell you what you meant to him. Maker, he needed you to know everything, how he wants every inch of you, how much he cares about you, how much he loves you.
You can tell he’s looking at you now. You’re suddenly incredibly self-conscious. “I-I’m sorry,” You stutter. “I took i-it the other day without asking…should’ve told you I had it.”
He clutches his fists as the Crest comes out of the planet’s atmosphere. He presses a button, putting the ship on autopilot. “You need to stop apologizing,” He says, pushing his palms into the arms of the pilot’s chair and standing up.
You tilt your head to the side, confused and somehow even more apologetic than you were before. “I-I didn’t mean to offend you-,”
“You’re not offending me, you never could.” He closes the gap between the two of you with one small step. “So stop saying sorry.” There’s an urgency in his voice, and an undeniable sense of certainty, like he had thought hard about what he was going to say, as if he had wanted to say this for an incredibly long time.
“Sorr-,” You cut yourself off, a smirk spreading across your face.
Din’s hands hover over your waist, softly settling down, waiting for you to protest. But you don’t. “Is this alright?” He asks.
“Y-yes,” You stutter. Din’s grip becomes firm against your hips. You hum at the contact, slowly pushing your body closer to his until your chests are flush against one another’s.
The tension is palpable. This is no longer him simply trying to comfort you; this is much, much more than that.
He makes the first move, taking a step in between your spread-out legs so that your back presses into the wall behind you. You can feel a pulse of heat shoot down to your core. “You need to know what you mean to me,” He whispers, his knee pressing lightly into your clothed cunt. You hold yourself back from grinding against him. “Need to show you how I feel about you, how you make me feel…” He trails off, letting himself get lost in the moment
Your hands snake up to the base of his neck, where his flight suit and his helmet meet. Your fingers slip under the fabric, exploring the exposed skin there. You’ve always wanted to feel him, to let him feel you. But this was never the deal, this was never something you expected. These were uncharted waters, a feeling that was so far shoved to the back of your head that you were positive this would never happen.
But this is happening.
He tugs the shirt up so that his hands can slip underneath. “Take off your gloves.” Your voice is breathy as the plea slips out. “Wanna feel you.” Din nods, quickly pulling them off before gluing his palms back to your skin. His calloused fingertips graze over your stomach, sending chills down your spine. “Din,” You whisper as he trails towards your bra, dipping underneath. His thumb brushes over your peaked nipple. You shut your eyes, letting your head fall back against the wall.
“What is it, pretty girl?” He asks, teasing you, his fingers pinching your nipple lightly. “Tell me what you want, need to hear you.”
He was going to be the death of you. “I-I want you to f-fuck me,” You beg, shamelessly grinding against his knee, searching for some sort of relief. You can feel your wetness pooling in between your legs. “N-need you to touch me Din, please.”
Din nods, his hands slipping out from under your shirt and down to the waistline of your panties. He drops to his knees as he slips them down your legs, practically tearing them off of you in the process. His fingers glide up your inner thigh as he stands. His palm finally settles against your cunt, the heel of his hand pushing into your clit, his fingers teasing at your opening.
“Fuck, you’re so wet, such a good girl,” He praises, moving a bit so that his fingers find their way to your clit. You moan out at the sudden pressure. “You like that? Like my fingers there?”
You hum a yes, unable to pull any sort of coherent thought together as Din’s fingers swirl around your clit. “N-need more,” You mumble. “W-wanna feel you, please.” You can feel his erection against your leg, throbbing in his flight suit. But Din doesn’t stop, his fingers continue their unrelenting circles at your core.
He moves his hand ever so slightly, shifting the angle so that his thumb brushes against your clit, and his fingers begin to tease your folds. Your head falls against his shoulder at the feeling. His fingers suddenly thrust into you, pumping in and out.
“You’re so perfect,” His honeyed, modulated voice rasps. He watches as your chest heaves against his shirt, your back limp against the wall of his ship, your head pressed against his shoulder. Fuck you looked so good like this, taking him, letting him make you his. And Maker, you felt good doing it. Nothing would ever compare to this, to the feeling of having him this close to you. “Doing so good for me.”
“Din,” You whimper. “I-I’m so close.”
He smirks under his helmet. He was going to make you come on his fingers. You clench around him, his fingers hitting the spot you need him in most every time. “That’s it sweet girl, just like that,” Din whispers, his thumb mercilessly toying with your core. You can feel yourself coming undone around him, like a wire snapping in two, heat spreading fervently across every inch of your body.
“D-Din,” You stutter, pulling him against you, his fingers still buried inside you, his thumb still drawing gentle circles. You needed more, you needed him closer than humanly possible. You bring a hand down to his erection, jerking him off through his pants. “N-need you inside me, Din.”
He doesn’t waste any time undoing his belt, shoving his pants off. He’s so fast you’re not even sure any of it happened in the first place. He lines himself up with your entrance. “Are you sure you want this?” He asks.
There’s no question. “I’ve always wanted this, Din, always wanted you.”
He rests his forehead against yours. “…‘always wanted you too, mesh’la.” You gasp as he buries himself inside of you with one thrust, splitting you open. “So fucking tight, so perfect,” He praises you again, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at his words. He gives you a minute to adjust to him before pulling out and shoving himself back in. You’ve never felt so full, so whole, like he’s tearing you apart just to put you back together.
“Feels s’good,” You murmur as Din sets his pace. It starts slow, his hips rolling against yours with each thrust. He’s taking his time, exploring every inch of you. His thumb finds your clit again. The sensation is almost overwhelming. You’re already on the borderline of being fucked out.
You can feel your core pulsing as he works at you, toying with you. His thrusts become quicker, needier. “So perfect for me,” He soothes, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek, brushing away a tear you didn’t know had escaped your eye. “Taking me so well, wanted to do this for so long.”
You were already practically there. Every pump, every praise, every swirl pushes you closer to the edge, threatening to throw you over, to split you in two, and Maker, you wanted it.
“Din I-I-,” You can’t even get the words out.
“I know, pretty girl, I’ve got you,” He coos, fucking you into the wall, his thumb still beating away at your heat, his other hand still holding your cheek. Your legs are hooked around his waist, your fingers digging into the beskar that dawns his shoulders.
Your walls flutter around him, and you can feel yourself falling apart around his cock. Searing white heat floods your vision. You can feel a few cool tears against your hot cheeks. You look into his visor as you come. You want him to see you, to know how he makes you feel. “F-fuck, Din, I-I love you.” The confession doesn’t bother you as it slips out. It’s natural, like you had said it countless times before.
And you’ll say it countless times after.
It���s what sends Din over the edge. “S-shit,” His voice is shaky, breathy, broken, his cock twitching inside of you. You can feel him fill you up, pumping in and out a few more times before stopping, still buried deep inside you. His forehead rests on yours, your body limp against his. “I love you,” He confesses back. “So fucking much.” You shut your eyes, letting yourself melt around him. “Can we stay like this, for just a little while? Don’t wanna leave you yet.” You hum a soft yes in response. You didn’t want him to go anywhere either.
His arms wrap around you, pulling you in, keeping you held against his chest. There it is, that same feeling from before, the one you felt the very second you joined this little clan of three.
Home.
If you're afraid of what you need
If you're afraid of what you need
Look around you, you're surrounded
It won't get any better
And so, goodnight
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Softer
din djarin x female reader
Your aloof Mandalorian employer, and dare you say friend, is surprisingly considerate when it comes to your monthly cycle.
I just started The Mandalorian and I’m already obsessed. I also just happened to be on my period, and I needed to work through some writers block. So please enjoy fluffy, awkward Din.
This is a SFW oneshot for female reader with Din Djarin of The Mandalorian. This work does not contain smut, however, it may contain mature language or themes, and as a rule, my blog is only for those over the age of 18. As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however, I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon-level violence.
Warnings Include (but are not limited to):
Swearing (English and Star Wars canon languages)
Menstruation (this shouldn’t have to be a warning)
The expectation for men to be dicks about menstruation
Din is the sweetest
Din is kinda stupid and walks in on someone changing
helmetless!Din (just a little)
Mutual pining
Please read at your own discretion and consume your fanfiction responsibly.
You woke up feeling sticky.
The gentle hum of the ship around you was nearly enough to lull you back to sleep, but the stickiness between your thighs and the cold sweat on your skin left you far too uncomfortable to even think about going back to sleep, despite the fact that your watch told you it was far too early for any living thing to be awake.
“Dank farrick,” you cursed, sitting up carefully, sure to duck your head and avoid the shelf above you. With a groan, you slid out of your ‘den’, as Mando referred to it, gathered the blankets you’d been sleeping on, and stalked off towards the laundering unit.
You knew your cycle was due soon, but ever since joining the small crew of the Razor Crest, it was harder to track time. It was the inky blackness of space, the way days would run together. It had nothing to do with your distracting companion, your boss, who stalked around the ship as a brooding pile of armor. The companion you were starting to become strangely attached to.
The laundering unit was empty, thank the Maker. You were just finished shoving the soiled bedding into the chamber and digging around the storage area for the right soap to add, but then a gloved hand clamped down on your shoulder and you yelped.
“Shit, Mando,” you clamped a hand down on your chest to steady your breathing, “How is someone covered in so much beskar so quiet?”
He didn’t answer you, of course, only tilting his helmet at you as he leaned against the wall of the ship. “What are you doing up so early?”
Your stomach churned, only partially from the cramps. There wasn’t much you knew about the mysterious Mandalorian who hired you–hell, you called him Mando, you didn’t even know his name. But you had deciphered he was human, based on his hands. They were the only part of him you’d ever seen without the armor, once when he was tending to a particularly nasty burn you’d picked up trying to fix the main cooling unit. His touch had been surprisingly soft, and you’re loathe to admit you’ve dreamed about it every night since.
But you also knew he was a man. And most men you’d met, even if they belonged to a mammalian species, were distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of menstruation.
“Uh, no particular reason,” you shrugged half-heartedly, finally finding the laundry powder you needed and pouring some into the appropriate compartment of the machine. The bright green bottle of fabric softener was easier to find.
You’d mentioned once how you missed using it, the smell in particular, and on the next supply run, there it was amongst the rations and parts. You hadn’t asked for it, but he’d remembered anyways.
“Why are you doing laundry?” he nodded at the machine. Dammit, he was suspicious.
“Well, it’s just been a while since I washed my bedding. Don’t want to be gross,” you made a face at the last bit. Not only was the conversation making you uncomfortable, but also the growing wetness between your legs. You were grateful for your black leggings and tunic, disguising the mess.
“You washed it eight days ago.”
Shit, why did he have to be so observant?
“Look, maybe I was eating in bed–which, I know, I know, crumbs lead to pests–and I might have spilled a little something is all,” you tried, putting on your best sheepish face. It was working, it seemed, he pushed off from the wall and headed behind you towards the galley. But before you could start the unit, he had slid in between you and it, popping open the door, and pulling out your blanket.
“Blood?” he inspected the fabric.
Suddenly you were pressed against the wall of the ship, gloved hands flying over your body. But not in the way you’d dreamed about that one time. This was clinical, urgent.
“Where are you injured?” he knelt in front of you, searching for any obvious wounds, any signs of pain. The visor of his helmet was tilted up at you, and you had to remind yourself to breathe.
“I’m not injured,” you pushed his hands away from your arms. “Please Mando, I’m fine.”
He stood up to his full height but didn’t let you go. “You’re bleeding, you’re not fine. Tell me what’s wrong now, or I’m taking us to the nearest starport to get you checked by a medic.”
Your face burned. Why did you have to work for the one person in the galaxy as stubborn as you?
“I’m not injured,” you reiterated. “I’m-I’m menstruating,” you mumbled out, staring at the grated floor below you.
“What?”
“Dank farrick! I’m menstruating,” you practically yelled at the shiny surface you’d come to consider as his face.
He immediately took a step back. Great, now he’s disgusted and wants nothing to do with you.
“Look, I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable, but you’re so kriffing nosey…” you trailed off, crossing your arms across your chest and trying to seem aloof. Not like your damn hormones were making you want to cry and scream and eat all the cold rations all at once.
“I’m not uncomfortable. I’m sorry for prying,” he spoke softly.
“It’s okay,” you chewed on your bottom lip.
“You should go clean up.”
“Yeah,” you nodded, slipping away towards the fresher and made it inside before you broke, the tears streaming down your face. You weren’t sure why. Mando wasn’t mad at you, he wasn’t shunning you. He almost seemed to care.
Stepping into the spray of hot water, you allowed your tensions and emotions to diffuse into the steam around you. As red swirled around your feet and down the drain, you couldn’t help but think about what softness might lay under all that beskar.
Eventually, you cut off the water and dried yourself with one of the threadbare towels hanging by the door. It wasn’t until you were ready to step out that you realized you’d forgotten to get clean clothes to change into. So you wrapped the towel around you and hoped you could get back to your makeshift bunk before you started bleeding everywhere.
But when you opened the fresher door, there was a stack of neatly folded clothes settled right where it would be impossible to miss. And on top, an absorption pad. Your face heated at the thought of your big scary boss going through your quarters to find you clean clothes–clean panties, you realized–and a pad. As horrifying as it was, it was an overwhelmingly sweet gesture, like the fabric softener.
He’d chosen well for you: a pair of soft, loose-fitting pants that tapered at the ankles and an old but soft t-shirt you’d had for ages. You were also grateful he hadn’t brought anything frilly or lacy from your underwear collection, not that there were a lot of options like that, but rather a simple pair you’d chosen to match your skin tone. He hadn’t brought you a chest cover, but you didn’t mind so much. The t-shirt was large enough that you felt modest even without one.
Running a hand through your damp hair, you checked that your blankets were still cycling through the laundry unit before slipping into the galley, making sure to step heavily in your bare feet to announce your arrival. Once you’d almost snuck up on Mando when he’d been eating, sans helmet, and you weren’t anxious to repeat it.
But he wasn’t sitting around the table. No, he was standing in the small kitchen. And something smelled really good.
“Are you cooking?” you asked incredulously, sliding into the bench by the table.
It was easier to read him–at least from behind–when he wasn’t wearing his cowl. You could see his shoulders stiffen before he turned around and fixed you in the icy crosshairs of his visor.
“Yes. It’s an old recipe, the warriors in my covert who have cycles say it helps.”
“Oh,” was all you could say. It was inarguably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you.
“Here,” he grabbed a steaming cup of something from a nearby workbench and set it in front of you. It smelled of cinnamon and herbs, and reminded you of Mando himself. “Behot shig. It’ll help.”
You took the container in your hands, allowing the warmth radiating from it to seep deep into your bones. It tasted similar to the tea of the last planet you’d been on, but without the sickly sweet aftertaste. A heady buzz settled into your veins and you sighed.
“Thank you.” You finally managed the words you’d wanted to say for the last hour, staring deep into the amber liquid.
He was quiet for a moment, save for the breathing of his respirator and the crackling of whatever was on the stove.
“You’re welcome.”
While you waited for him to finish the meal, you pulled the holopad from its place in the wall and began running your daily diagnostic check.
“The main cooling unit is down again,” you groaned, leaning your head against the wall in frustration. If the cooling unit wasn’t working, the hyperdrive would suffer a catastrophic failure, and you’d be in deep shit. “I could have sworn it was the condenser coil, but I replaced it last week. At this rate, it’s gonna be cheaper to replace the whole unit.”
Mando grunted as he set a plate full of food down in front of you. It looked good, you could smell the spices and the colors were far more vibrant than what you were used to in ration foods.
“I’ll take care of it.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Mando, please. I may not be some hardcore Mandalorian warrior lady, but I can still do my job.”
He was silent for a minute. You imagined you were looking right into his eyes, although there was no way to tell. This was a stare-down. And maybe he was stubborn, but so were you.
“Ok,” he agreed quietly, “But take it easy. Let me know if you need anything.”
You didn’t see much of Mando for the day, which wasn’t necessarily odd. But usually, he’d check in on you once or twice throughout the day just to make sure you weren’t ruining his ship or dead. Aside from passing him in the hallway once, you didn’t see him all day. He seemed to be busying himself with a project in the bunkroom, his personal quarters. You’d only been inside a few times, and never more than a few minutes at a time.
It wasn’t until you went to get your blankets from the laundry unit and found it empty that you thought anything of it. Okay, maybe Mando was being nice and put them back in your makeshift bunk. But they weren’t there either. In fact, all of your belongings were missing and the little space between crates that you’d transformed into your own personal nest was closed up.
If ever you were going to lose your cool on Mando, it was now. You’d woken up early, spent damn near three hours shoved in the tiny, unbearably hot compartment next to the broken cooling unit. Your back and stomach were killing you despite the painkillers you’d taken earlier in the day. All you wanted to do was crawl into bed and go to sleep.
That’s how you found yourself close to angry-crying as you pounded on the door to Mando’s quarters. You wanted your stuff, you wanted your blankets, and most of all you wanted to sleep.
“Mando!” you hit the door with the side of your fist as hard as you could, producing a satisfying banging sound. “Where’s my shit, dammit?”
Suddenly the panel slid open and you were able to catch yourself before hitting him square in the chest plate. Not that it would have hurt him, just embarrassed you.
“Come here,” he ordered, stepping aside for you to enter his personal quarters. You eyed him warily, like a mouse entering a lion’s den.
You followed his gaze–well, what you assumed he was looking at–to the wall opposite his bunk. Where before there was just empty space, a blank wall, was a new cot.
Now, new may have been an understatement. It was semi embedded in the wall, like Mando’s own bed, and you could see where he’d cobbled it together from spare parts. The mattress wasn’t anything spectacularly luxurious, but it had been made up with your favorite blankets. Your favorite feature was perhaps the privacy screen.
“This morning reminded me of my promise, when you first joined my crew, that I would get you a proper bunk,” he spoke behind you, watching you admire his work. Behind the modulator, you could almost detect a hint of nervousness.
You turned to face him, biting down on your lower lip to keep from crying. “It’s wonderful, Mando. Thank you,” you whispered. It was truly the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you. He was literally making room for you in his life.
“If you feel you don’t have enough privacy, we can figure something else out. I’ve been-”
“Really, it’s perfect,” you grinned, earlier anger forgotten. “You’re sure you have enough privacy? I don’t want you sleeping with the bucket on just because of me.”
“When it’s dark…” he moved to the control panel by the door, hitting a blue button and plunging the room into darkness. The only source of light was the same blue button on the wall and a green button on the door to the fresher. “You can’t see me.”
“Perfect,’ you nodded, not sure if he could see you.
He hit the button again and you winced as the lights came back on. You stared at each other in silence for a few moments, neither one of you with much to say.
“I, uh, I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” you said awkwardly, wrapping your arms around your middle and trying not to wince as another cramp rolled through you.
“Your things are in your trunk tucked away there,” he gestured to a small compartment where you could see he’d placed your belongings.
“Thanks,” you smiled once more and knelt to gather some sleep clothes.
“You can use the fresher in here if you’d like,” he said almost awkwardly. “I’ll leave you alone now.”
Before he could get out the door, you were on your feet again, grabbing his arm. He was unfamiliar with this kind of contact with you, and you felt like he might snarl at you like a wild animal. But he simply fixed you with his visor’s gaze.
“Thank you. For everything,” you said sincerely, offering a small smile. He grumbled something under his breath and left you standing by your new bed.
Alone again, and finally close to the peaceful oblivion of sleep, you began preparing for bed. First, you went to the fresher to relieve yourself and change your absorption pad before pulling a favorite pair of sleep shorts from your collection. Stripping down to your underwear, you shimmied them up over your hips and began rummaging for a tank top you knew was in there somewhere.
You’d just found the elusive garment and stood up to put it on when the door slid open. A yelp of surprise escaped your lips and you heard Mando say something unfamiliar in Mando’a before quickly shutting the panel back.
“I’m sorry,” he called through the comms unit on the other side of the door. “I brought you something.”
You tugged the shirt over your head and tried to slow your heart rate as you made your way to the wall panel, opening the door to let him in.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. You could tell from the tilt of his helmet that he was not looking at you. Not even as he handed you a water bottle, a painkiller, and some strange pillow-like thing. It was almost tacky on one side, and the other was metallic, and yet the whole thing was soft and flexible.
“It’s alright,” you set the items on your bed. “I’m sure there’s going to be an adjustment period for…this.”
He nodded, turning to survey the room. It made you giggle, to think that the big bad Mando couldn’t even look at you now. You’d imagined his face a million times, but now you imagined him blushing.
“I’ll leave you alone now,” he grunted, leaving you with your thoughts.
You took the painkiller and drank most of the water. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and you could feel your eyelids drooping as soon as you slipped in. As you lay on your back, staring up at the rough metal seams and fastenings above you, you wondered what the hell this thing was that Mando had brought you.
Then you remembered. The second bounty he took after hiring you. The locator was taking him towards Hoth and he’d picked up some extra supplies to deal with the extreme climate, including a personal warmer.
You lifted your shirt at the bottom and pushed your shorts down slightly so you could lay the tacky side of the warmer against your skin. It was only a moment later that you found the controls, and you sighed in relief as warmth spread through your lower abdomen.
You hated to move once you finally got comfortable, but you still needed to turn the lights off, so you hauled yourself over to the panel and hit the button before fumbling your way back in the dark. It wasn’t long before you fell asleep. It was so fast that you forgot to draw the privacy screen.
When Din finally returned to his quarters, now your quarters too, he reminded himself, he was careful to listen for movement. He certainly didn’t want a repeat of the evening’s earlier incident.
He’d never been so kriffing embarrassed in his life. Except for maybe later when he caught himself thinking about your tits as he ate his dinner. They were just so perfect and soft-looking. He’d only seen them for half a second, but he knew they’d haunt his dreams for years.
He felt dirty for thinking of you that way. You were his employee, his coworker, his friend. But Din liked caring for you. He wanted to do so much more than he did, than he could, but he knew you wouldn’t allow it. It would be inappropriate for a superior to look after his subordinate like that.
Sometimes he wondered if you harbored anything for him other than friendly cooperation. Like the time he’d come back from his hunt on Hoth half frost-bitten and you’d insisted on staying awake with him until his vitals returned to normal. Or the one time you made him dinner, a secret family recipe you’d called it, and sat blindfolded across from him as he ate, just so you could share a meal with him.
But then he reminds himself that you don’t even know his name. And he doesn’t know much about you other than your name.
So Din resigns himself to maintaining a professional relationship with you as he opens the door to the living quarters. All that’s thrown out the window the minute he sees your sleeping face tucked softly into your pillow, legs curled up in front of you. Soft breaths leave your mouth and he can see the lights of the warmer from under the blanket.
As the door shut behind him, plunging him into darkness, he removed his helmet. He’d been living aboard for so long, that it was easy to find his way to your side even in the pitch black.
He leaned in, placing a kiss to your temple. “Good night, mesh’la,” he murmurs into your skin.
#the mandalorian#din djarin#din djarin fluff#mando fluff#din djarin x reader#din djarin x reader fluff#mando x reader#mando x reader fluff#star wars#the mandalorian fluff#the mandalorian fanfiction#the mandalorian fanfic
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𐐪𐑂 Mando 𐐪𐑂
𐐪𐑂 Smut 💕 - 𐐪𐑂 Fluff 💝
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Hey! I really love your Mando fics. Can I request something where the reader is traveling with Din and Grogu on the crest (could be Grogu's babysitter or something) and Din has a huge crush on her and seeing how much she loves grogu makes him want to confess his feelings. Just some nice Mando fluff, can be sfw or nsfw, whatever you feel like. 💕
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐲
Thank you for the request! I had so much fun writing this ♡
word count: 5.7k
pairing: Din Djarin x afab!reader
note: Explicit (18+). Smut and fluff. Thigh riding, unprotected P in V (with use of contraception), creampie. Love confessions. The helmet comes off. The Razor Crest lives. No use of (y/n). This has not been beta nor proof read and English is not my native language.
Din’s heart skips a beat at the sight of you. He has tried to fight the feelings he has developed for you, convinced himself that his feelings aren’t truly as deep cutting as they feel. Tried to be content with the time you would spend with him and Grogu before you eventually would move on and he’d be left with the memories and the fantasies of how it would have been if you had really been his. The sight of you and Grogu is almost too much for him, and it makes it very hard for him to not just give up everything and tell you how you make him feel. Your features are highlighted by the silvery moon light that is shining down from the night sky.
You are beautiful.
Din had thought so from the moment he first saw you. But now, after you have travelled with him and Grogu for almost a year and he has gotten to know you, really know you, ‘beautiful’ simply doesn’t cut it anymore. The word in basic is feeling too banal, too trivial, to describe the true beauty of your being. You are the most beautiful person Din has ever known and he is confirmed in this by you every day.
The way you smile up at him when you walk side by side in a crowded market when you’re on supply runs, always insisting on finding a treat or a new toy for Grogu. The way you always greet Din so happily when he comes back from a hunt, like you truly are happy to see him again, like you have actually missed him… How you will always make sure he is okay and hasn’t been hurt, and how you will insist on helping patch him up on the occasions he is. The feeling of your soft hands delicately placing a bacta patch on his bare shoulder a few weeks ago is still burnt into his skin… The way you take such good care of his son, you look at Grogu like he is the one who hung every moon and every star in the galaxy. The kindness and beauty of your soul is truly bewitching. Maybe that is why he started calling you mesh’la.
The first time it had just slipped out. It was a couple of months ago. He had come back from a hunt late at night, tired and muddy. For a short moment, Din had felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs by the sight he had found. There you were, so lovely, so beautiful, fast asleep on his bunk with a sleeping Grogu curled up beside you, his little green fist closed around one of your fingers.
Din’s heart had yearned by the sight. The feelings you and Grogu are bringing to him are new territory for Din. He has never wanted anything like this before, or at least never let himself admit that he does. But you and Grogu make it impossible for Din to keep lying to himself. The kid is under his care, under his protection, and from the moment he chose the armour instead of the sabre and came back to Din, his ad'ika. Din and Grogu are a clan. A clan of two. A clan that Din wishes was a clan of three.
He had been quiet when he started to walk off to the cockpit, something he usually was good at, but you had stirred awake anyway, like your sleeping subconscious had felt his presence. You lifted your head from the pillow, sleepily blinked until your eyes had found him.
“You’re back.” You had said, your voice had been a little hoarse from sleep, but still as sweet as usual, a tired smile had painted your face as your eyes had found the dark T of his visor.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He had said, but you had just shaked your head and hugged Grogu close against you. Oh, how Din had wished he could have crawled into the bunk and joined the two of you.
“Are you okay?” You had asked, just like you always do after he comes back from a hunt.
“Yes, I’m okay.” He had reassured you before continuing. “Go back to sleep, mesh’la.”
He has never told you what it means and a part of him feels guilty about that. Maybe you wouldn’t like to be called that by him. You are technically his employee, even though the lines between you feel pretty blurry by now. An undefinable bond has been built between you, Grogu and Din. Maybe it is the small proximity there is forced upon the three of you, due to the size of the Razor Crest. Or maybe it is due to the undeniable connection there has been between you and Grogu from the beginning, but your presence on the Crest feels too domestic, too loving, for you to simply be Grogu’s nanny.
Din has felt feelings this past year that he has not been acquainted with before. Desire, jealousy, a desperate yearning, all fairly foreign to him until you had entered his life. It is an emotional disruption he hasn’t felt since Grogu had come into his life.
When Grogu had come crashing into his life it had been an upheaval beyond anything Din could ever have imagined. He was so used to not having anyone around, let alone a small child that was so dependent on him. It had been confusing and foreign, but Grogu had climbed into his heart and carved out a space there. A space that Din never wants to become empty again.
Din had never been aware of how lonely he actually had been before Grogu. It had been a hard realisation, but he couldn’t deny it any longer, especially when he thought that he had lost him. Forget hunting bounties and fighting ferocious creatures, handing his foundling over to the Jedi was the hardest thing Din has ever had to do. Din had ended up caring more for Grogu than he had ever thought possible, he had removed his helmet for his foundling, the little green child had given din a whole new purpose in life.
And now Din is a changed man. Grogu has changed him, down to the very atoms of his DNA. Din had never thought he would have what he now has. He had been settled with the way his life had been- lonesome and brutal, in order to support his covert and give back to the Mandalorians that had taken him in, or he had at least used to think so…
But seeing you now, there is really no way of running from his feelings any longer. You are gently bouncing Grogu on your hip as you point out a constellation for him, but the youngling seems to be more interested in playing with the hem of your tunic than looking at the stars over your heads. The silver light from the planet’s moons illuminates you and bathes you in the shine.
Din had landed the Crest on the little planet not even twenty minutes ago and even though it was past Grogu’s bedtime you had insisted on letting him have a couple of minutes in the fresh air before putting him down for the night. Din had not objected, the three of you had been in space for almost a week straight so a little moonlit night stroll before bed had sounded tempting.
A light breeze sweeps over you and Grogu lets go of your tunic to instead nuzzle himself close against your chest as he lets out a cute little yawn. You let out a low chuckle before looking up at Din and his heart skips a beat for the second time this night. The stars are reflecting in your eyes and you have a sleepy smile on your lips.
“I think it is time to get our little one here back to his bed.” You chuckle while you hitch Grogu up a little higher on your hip.
‘Our little one…’
Our!
Dear Maker how Din wished that you had meant it in the way he secretly yearns for.
“Yeah, let’s head back to the ship, mesh’la.”
—
Grogu is sleepily blinking his big eyes up at you as he slowly snoozes off in your arms. You let out a content sigh as you plant a kiss on top of his little green head before carefully placing him down into his little hammock. The sound of his small soft snores echoes through the little sleeping chamber. You are never gonna get tired of this. You smile down at the little sleeping figure as you back away, turning the switch for the door to give the youngling peace to sleep.
You look around the hull for Din, but you don’t find him so you climb up the ladder to the cockpit where you find him sitting in the pilot chair. He looks like he is lost deep in his thoughts, looking out through the window at the night dark meadow where he had docked the ship.
“Hey.” You say as you approach him, sitting yourself down in the passenger seat next to him.
“Hi.” He says without looking at you.
A silence falls over the cockpit, not necessarily an uncomfortable one, but it does feel loaded with something you can’t really put your finger on. Din had been silent for the entire walk back to the Crest and you wonder if something is bothering him. Maybe he is just tired. You had told him to take the bunk tonight when you made it back to the ship, but he had refused. You were supposed to be taking turns sleeping in the bunk under Grogu’s hammock, but it has been weeks since Din has slept in it and wasn't like he did it often before that. You feel bad about it, his back must be killing him after all these nights on the hard mat on the floor.
“Din is-” You lean forward in the passenger chair, leaning slightly towards him to try and catch his attention. “Is something wrong?”
He finally looks away from the window and turns his helmet towards you, and despite only being met by the dark visor of his helmet you just know that his eyes under it are locking with yours. The thought of that always sends a little shiver through you. You know that you shouldn't think about it. Maybe it is wrong, an insult to his creed, but you can’t help but fantasise about the man he must be underneath all the beskar. He is handsome, that is for sure. It doesn’t even matter in what way, it is deeper than that. He is a handsome person no matter what he actually looks like under the helmet and armour. You have seen some of him in glimpse. A bare hand as he removes a glove to get a better grip on as he fixes a clasp on a crate, or the time he had gotten hit in the spot between two pieces of armour and you had helped him getting it bandaged. His face is still a mystery to you. It is a little weird not to know what he looks like, especially considering that you have fallen in love with him.
You had not meant to fall in love with the Mandalorian. You had tried to fight it, but it was a fight you had no chance of winning. You know that you are being silly, but you sometimes get the idea that he might feel something for you too. It also doesn’t help that you have ended up loving Grogu as much as you do. You don’t think you could love him more if he had been your own. It is kind of scary, the thought of the day din decides he doesn’t need you anymore. That your feelings for Din never will be reciprocated hurts, but you will be able to get over it with time, but the day you will have to get separated from Grogu… Oh, that day is going to kill you.
“No, mesh’la nothings wrong.” Din shakes his head, he isn’t looking at you anymore, back to looking out at the night. “I was just lost in my own thoughts.”
“Oh, okay...”
You sit in silence for a little while, you don’t know if you should go and let him be alone with his thoughts or if you should break the silence. You are just about to open your mouth to say something, what you don’t even know, but the silence feels too much. Din beats you to it though.
“The kid, he uhm…” His voice is much softer than usual, almost close to a whisper. “He really likes you.”
“Well, I really like him too.” You say, you can’t help the soft smile spreading on your lips.
“I’m glad you do, mesh’la…”
“You know… You keep calling me that, but you have never told me what it means.”
“I guess I haven’t…” His voice is low and a little shaky through the modulator.
You don’t know what it is with him tonight, but something feels different.
You take a deep breath, trying to steady your fluttering heart. “Are you gonna tell me?”
He freezes in the chair, sitting more still than usual, if that is even possible. He is almost reminiscent of a statue. The silence builds, and you begin to regret that you asked. The air between you feels charged, but you can’t figure out with what. It feels like whatever his answer is gonna be it is gonna fundamentally change something between you. You are starting to think that he is going to ignore your question when he finally breaks the silence.
“Beautiful.” His voice sounds a little weak, almost like he regrets telling you, but he continues in a more confident tone. “It means beautiful.”
Beautiful… He’s been calling you beautiful all this time? The word always falling so naturally from his lips, soft and earnestly.
The rapid beats of your heart against the restraints of your ribcage thumbs loudly in your ears. You can’t believe what he just said. He is finally looking back at you again, but any signs of what he is feeling are hidden behind the dark reflection of the visor.
“You call me beautiful?”
“Yeah, I do… Trust me, if anything or anyone has ever deserved to be called that, it is you.”
You can not believe that this is really happening, is there really a chance that he might feel the same as you?
“I don’t know what to say.” You say, the hope that has bloomed in your chest is scaring you.
“You don’t have to say anything. I actually would prefer it if you don’t… I’m sorry if I have made you uncomfortable.” He stands up from the chair, turning his back to you.
“Din please don’t go…” You grab his wrist before he can get to the ladder and disappear down the hull. “Din, I need you to tell me how you feel, please… I need to know.”
“Dank farrik.” He curses under his breath and turns around to face you again. “I don’t know how to do this…” He shuffles anxiously from one foot to another.
It is always so surprising to see Din like this, the usual confident and stoic bounty hunter all anxious and nervous, but you have seen it a few times before. He might be a tough and hardy bounty hunter, but put the man in a social setting and he can get nervous. But this is a whole new level.
“Grogu he…” He pauses, the sound of his breath sounds shaky through the modulator of his helmet. “He means the world to me. I love him, he… he is mine. I never thought that I would have that, my life was never set on that path, I didn’t think I was ever meant to be anyone’s buir, but… now I can’t imagine my life without him in it. It was hard for me to accept that I wanted someone around, but I couldn’t deny it any longer.”
His words come out with so much emotion, you have never heard him like this before. You know that he loves his son, he shows that every day, but hearing him say it like this… The rawness, the emotions. Your vision starts to turn blurry as the tears start to build in the corner of your eyes. You want to be a part of that love so bad.
“What I’m trying to say is…” He takes a shaky breath through the modulator, his shoulders are tense under the shoulder plates of his armour and his gloved hands are curled into tight anxious fists. “Now I can’t imagine my life without you in it either.”
“Oh…” Your lips part, you are founding yourself dumbfounded. Is this really happening?
“I want you to be a part of my life, both our lives…” He is actually shaking as he tells you this. “I don’t want to just be a clan of two anymore… I want you mesh’la.”
You suddenly understand. The way you will sometimes worry that he is avoiding you, or how you sometimes feel like your presence is making him uncomfortable. It makes sense now, you rise from the chair and close the distance between the two of you. You search for the eyes under the helmet, even though you can’t see them you want him to know that you are looking at him - the man and not the Mandalorian. You realise how hard this must be for him, he has been hidden away for all of his adult life, physically, but emotionally too. You reach out for him, placing your palms on the sides of his helmet.
“Din…” You start out, it is probably just something you imagine, but it is like you can feel the heat of his skin through the beskar on your hands. “You already got me. I’m already yours.”
“Really?” It is Din’s turn to sound like he doesn’t believe what he is hearing.
“Yes, Din.” You can feel the tears sliding down your cheeks now, and you can’t keep the grin off your face as you nod up at him. “I’m yours, okay. Yours and Grogu’s.”
“And we are yours... Kriff, mesh’la I’m all yours.” He gasps through the modulator. He rests his forehead against yours, the coolness of the beskar is feeling nice against your warm skin. You stand like this for a moment, simply enjoying the intimacy of the closeness, your hands cradling his helmet and his resting on your hips. The silence stretches until Din finally breaks it.
“I want to kiss you so badly.” He confesses.
“I know.” You say, but you know that he can’t and that is okay. You have accepted that things with him are going to be different than it would have been with others, so the shock you’re feeling when a loud hiss is echoing off the durasteel walls is big. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut without even thinking about it. Your hands land over your closed eyes, like an extra protection to make sure you don’t see him.
“What are you doing?!” You shriek as you hear the loud thud of beskar landing on the metal floor. Din has removed his helmet! He didn’t even give you a warning so you could close your eyes before, you had been quick so you haven't really seen him just gotten a quick blurry peek.
“Open your eyes, mesh’la.” His voice is so low and soft, it is so close to a whisper, you almost miss it. His fingers brush against your hands to make you remove them from your eyes. His bare hands, you notice, and the skin on skin contact makes a hot shiver run down your spine. “Please.” He adds.
You can’t believe this. First you learn that he has been calling you beautiful for months, then he tells you that he wants you to stay with him and Grogu and now… Now Din is helmetless in front of you and he wants you to see him?
“Are you sure?” You stutter.
“Yes, mesh’la.” This time he speaks with his whole chest, like he has never been more sure about anything in his life. The sound of his voice without the modulator of his helmet hits your ears and you feel like you might cry. It’s deep and rich, reminding you of the sonorous melodies played on a f'nonc horn.
You inhale a shaky breath before removing your hands from your eyes and slowly blinking them open. And there he is. Din Djarin, your Din Djarin, staring back at you. You let out a little gasp as you take in the sight of him. You can’t believe that this is what he has been hiding all this time. You knew you would like the way he looked, because it would be him, but the reality is still exceeding all expectations you had. Din Djarin is gorgeous. The brown hair, that curls up at the ends, matches the colour of the irises of the prettiest most soulful eyes you have ever seen. His strong jaw is covered with a short, slightly patchy, beard that frames his face nicely. A moustache is framing his mouth. A mouth with the most kissable lips you have ever seen.
Another long silence breaks out between you, both of you are shocked by the situation.
“Hi…” He finally says and it is all that you need to break out of your haze.
“Hi.” You smile at him, maybe the brightest smile of your life.
You reach out for him, you need him closer.
“Do I disappoint?” He asks, but he is smiling too now.
“Hell no.” You shake your head with a laugh, the thought of this face disappointing anyone is an absurd idea.
“You’re beautiful.” You whisper, your hands find his hair, wrapping your fingers in his soft locks. He leans his forehead down to rest against yours again. It had felt good before, but this - his skin against yours, oh that is heaven. The two of you stay like this for a while, enjoying the affinity between you.
“What about that kiss?” You finally say and it is all he needs to hear. His lips crash onto yours. It is like a switch has been turned, the softness from before replaced with an intense hunger. The kiss is heated and needy, like he is desperate to taste you, wanting to map out every corner of your mouth. His hands are on your hips, a tight grip as he pushes you closer against him.
You gasp into his mouth as you feel the solid curve of his bulge press against your pelvis. It is sending a warm shiver through you that settles in your lower stomach. You press yourself into him, slightly grinding your hips against his clothed cock which pulls a low groan out of him. His broad hands squeezes your hips, guiding your rhythm as you rock against him.
“Do you really want this?” You ask him
“More than anything.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Do you?”
“Yes!” You nod wildly. “I’ve never wanted anything or anyone as badly as I want you.”
Your confession makes him let out a deep groan from deep within his throat, it makes a new shiver run through you. His fingers find the hem of your pants which he starts to slide down your legs. You take over, kicking the garment of your legs as you push him towards the pilot’s chair.
“Sit.” You command. You don’t know what it is, you are usually not the commanding type, but you are feeling wild tonight, drunk off of Din’s lips.
Something flickers in Din’s eyes at your sudden bossy tone. “Yes, ma’am.” He mutters as he sits back in the seat, his strong thighs spread out and a cocky smile on his lips. Fuck, he is going to be the death of you aren’t he?
You take a second to enjoy the view, before walking over to him, stepping between his thighs. Your hand lands in his hair as you look down at him through hooded eyes.
“Come here, mesh’la.” He whispers as he reach out for you, gripping your hips and pulling you closer. You lift your leg over him, straddling his broad lap.
He groans at the pressure, as you start to rock your clothed cunt against his muscular thigh. You suspect that he can feel the warmth of your dampness through the fabric. Din adjusts his hold on your waist, helping you set a rhythm as he begins to move your hips. He is moving you slowly at first, but the eager sounds you’re letting out is quickly making him pick up the pace. You purr out his name as you feel his thigh flex under you.
“Kriff… Doing so good for me, mesh’la.” Din curses under his breath. “Looking so pretty.”
“Mmm..” You hum out, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you keep grinding against him until you can’t take it anymore.
“Fuck, Din, I...” You whine, feeling the fabric of your panties getting gradually more and more damp against him.
“I need you, Din” You remove your head from his neck so you can look deeply into his eyes. His brown eyes are burning you, his hands coming to a still.
“Okay, yeah…” He nods at you, his pupils are blown wide and a flush is covering his cheeks. “Ne-need you too, mesh’la.”
His eyes are still locked with yours as he moves you, making you lift yourself up from him so he can start on removing some of his armour plates. You use the time to get rid of your tunic, leaving you in only your bra and panties. He ends up removing most of his armour, leaving him warm and soft for you.
He pulls you down on him again, connecting your lips once more as his hand dives down to your panties, sliding his fingers under the hem and finding your clit which he begins to stroke with slow, firm circles after coating his digits with your wetness, making you moan into the kiss.
“Fuck, mesh’la, you’re so wet. All soaked, just for me. My sweet, sweet girl.” He whisper against your mouth.
He keeps circling your clit with one hand, setting a faster pace as his other hand finds your breast, squeezing it gently through your bra, making you let out another desperate moan. Your hands find the clasp at your back, fingers fumbling slightly from eagerness as you open the latch before zealously removing the item from your body. Din lets out a pleased groan as your exposed breasts appear. His free hand, that isn’t occupying your clit, eagerly kneads the soft plumpness of one of your tits before taking its nipple between his fingers and gently twisting it.
“Oh, fuck… Fuck, Din, I…” You whine out, feeling your orgasm approach. You don’t think you have ever felt it come this early before, but he has you so riled up.
“I know baby, I know.” He encourages. “You can mesh’la, you can come for me.”
It is all you need to hear, the last string that holds you together gets cut and the warm euphoric waves of pleasure wash over you. His name is falling from your lips over and over again as you ride out your orgasm.
“Did that feel good?” He asks you with a kiss to the top of your head when you’ve finally come back down from your high and now has relaxed into him.
“So good.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He says and you can hear the smile in his voice without even looking at him.
“Wanna make you feel good too.” You say letting your fingers find his cheek and gently stroke his cheekbone. “Want you inside me.” You feel how his cock twitches underneath you from your confession.
“You sure mesh’la?” He asks, placing his hand under your chin to gently holding your head up as he look deeply you in the eyes for your answer.
“Very.”
“Okay.” He hums, pressing a gentle kiss onto your lips, but it very quickly turns heated.
Your hands reach down between you, finding the buttons of his pants which you quickly begin to unbutton. The angle is slightly awkward, but you manage to get the last button undone without breaking the kiss.
Din taps your thigh to make you step back for a second so he can pull down his pants and free his cock. Your eyes widen at the sight. You had gotten the idea that he was big from what you had felt when you grinded against his bulge, but nothing could prepare you for the view that met you. He is big. His cock is throbbing and thick, laying heavy against his stomach, the tip is already dripping with precum and you feel your mouth water by the sight.
You slide your panties to the side as you readjust yourself, and start to slowly sink down on him. You’re really taking your time, both so you can adjust to the imposing size of him, and so you can enjoy the sounds he’s making for you as you slowly take more and more of him, until you finally are taken the entirety of him.
“You are so perfect…” He sights. “Cyar'ika you have no idea…” He adds before he starts on leaving hot kisses up and down your neck.
‘Cyar'ika.’ Another word you don’t know the meaning of, but you are too far gone in your shared pleasure to stop up and ask him the meaning.
The two of you sit like this for a little while, letting you adjust to him, but you soon can’t take it anymore, you need some movement.
You lift yourself a little from the chair before sinking back down on him, making Din choke on a throaty moan. His hands stay on your hips, as you begin to bounce on him in a slow, but steady rhythm, but he occasionally slips them down to your ass, squeezing the soft plum skin with his broad hands. It makes you go wild. You pick up your pace.
“Dear, Maker…” You gasp “Din, you’re feeling so good.”
“You too, mesh’la. So fucking tight.” Din praises, lifting you up with his strong arms and pulls all the way out of you before slamming back into you, filling you up again. “So warm, so perfect.”
His hips now meet yours with every bounce as he thrust up into you, burying himself so deep inside you it has you bite down hard on your lower lip to not scream loudly and wake up Grogu. The sound of Din’s heavy balls slapping up against your wet cunt, as well as the loud creaks of the chair, is echoing from the walls and it is honestly the hottest thing you have ever heard. Your arms have begun to shake as your grip on the armrest of the chair is getting tighter and tighter. You keep bouncing up and down on him as you feel your second climax getting nearer and nearer.
“Oh, kriff… Mesh’la you’re so tight.” He groans through gritted teeth.
“I… I won’t last much longer.” He warns. His thrust falters a little as he gets closer and closer to his release.
“It’s okay, you can come, baby…” You pant out. “Please come for me, Din”
He let out a throaty groan at your encouragement.
“I have an implant.” You add. “Please, I want to feel you inside of me.”
You pull his face up to you, kissing him hard. Your lips connected passionately as you both get pushed over the edge. His fingers dig into your hips as he comes, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer.
You moan out his name, as your walls clench down around his cock. You feel how his dick twitches inside you as he comes undone. The warmth of his release coats your inside, and you dote on the feeling of being filled by him, milking every drop of his release as he keeps pumping into you, fucking his cum deep into you. You feel like the two of you have melted together as you both ride out your climaxes. Tears of pleasure are wetting your eyes. You have wanted him for so long, never thought that you would have him, never thought that he would feel the same as you.
You find his lips again, kissing him as you both ride out your climaxes. He hums content into your mouth and you can feel the smile on his lips. His hands are leaving your waist and he is instead cupping your cheeks, gently holding your face and the rough and heated atmosphere is soon turning soft.
“Are you okay?” He asks while caressing your cheek with light strokes of his finger pads.
“Yes.” You assure him with a small smile. “More than okay.”
He smiles back at you. He has the prettiest smile in the galaxy you decide. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, mesh’la.”
You don’t know the meaning of his words, but they fall from his lips with such warmth and care that you it has your heart flutter with warmth in your chest.
“What does that mean?” Your voice is nothing but a whisper.
“I will know you forever.”
“That is beautiful.”
“It’s…” He looks into your eyes, the deep mahogany of his irises make your heart clench. You can’t believe that these are the eyes that has been looking at you from under the helmet all this time. “It’s how we tell people we love them.”
“It is…?”
“Yes.” He nods. “I love you, mesh’la.”
He loves you… Din Djarin loves you.
“I love you too, Din.” You say before connecting your lips again in a long passionate kiss. “You and Grogu.” You add when you eventually have to pull away for air.
He smiles at you as his eyes are filling with grateful tears. You, Din and Grogu – a little clan of three.
#din djarin x reader#din x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin smut#din djarin fluff#mando x reader#mando smut#mando x you#mando fanfiction#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin imagine#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian fanfiction#the mandalorian x you#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#din djarin#din x you#mando fluff#din djarin x y/n#mando x y/n#pedro pascal character fanfiction#din djarin x female reader#mandalorian fanfic#pedro pascal fic#request
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Din Djarin: Come and Get Me
Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (she/her; afab)
Word Count: 2.1k
Summary: After a job leaves you trapped, you realize how much you have come to trust the legendary Mandalorian.
Excerpt: “Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”
“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”
“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”
This only made you sob harder.
“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”
“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”
Warnings: claustrophobia, panicking, panic attack, crying, so much banter, dinny boy gets *stern, * but only because he is in love hehe.
A/N: happy dincember my people :)
Pedro Masterlist
All my writing
(gif credit to pinterest)
“Why are droids always so angry?”
A deep sigh arose through your comlink.
“Because everyone is always pushing their buttons.”
Silence.
“You’re holding back your laughter.”
“That is absolutely not what is happening,” Din responded, voiced husked with his ever-present exhaustion.
“I can feel it,” you countered. “You are actively killing braincells trying to hold it back.”
“That is not what is killing my braincells,” Din responded, and you gave a dry chuckle back.
“Just get the credits and get out,” Din said, “we have other jobs to do.”
“Yes sir,” you responded sarcastically, pulling down your mask. It was a soft obsidian fabric that covered everything but your eyes.
“Need I remind you it is your fault we are here in the first place?” Din asked, knowing it would push your own button.
Greef had known you since you were a kid, your parents always calling him a “close family friend.” In actuality, your parents were his most profitable bounty hunters, and they had worked with him until they physically couldn’t anymore.
Without hesitation, choosing you take their place.
They had trained you from birth, ingraining into you the strength, cleverness, patience, persistence, and of course the wit needed to be an adequate replacement.
In Greef’s own words, you were “more than adequate.”
You worked for him for over a decade before finally meeting the infamous Mandalorian. His name had been circling for a while before you met him, allowing him to climb the ladder of Greef’s good graces (a particularly slippery ladder, in your opinion), as well as the ladder of wealth. You didn’t mind at first, sticking to the lot of bounties Greef would assign you every month, and minding your business.
That was until this Mandalorian started getting your pick of the lot.
“He’s just as good as you are,” Greef had said to you. “Your skill sets are incredibly complimentary. It is best for me financially to have you both going at once.”
You scoffed into your drink. “Give me a break, smartass. Next thing I know it will ‘best for you financially’ to have us working together.”
“It was a joke, asshole,” you responded to Din. “I’ll admit, not one of my best.”
Din sighed and remained silent. After two dozen jobs together, he had learned how old that jab was becoming.
“Going in now,” you said quietly, pulling out your gun and – as quietly as you could – shooting through the lock on the front door of what had to have been the biggest house you had ever seen. The outside was made with some rare limestone that glimmered in the moonlight which, in your opinion, literally shouted “rob me.” The owners of this house had tricked Greef, running off with the sum of money he had owed you and Din for a previous job (quite convenient, if you said so yourself). Greef agreed to pay you and Din triple your original salary if you got it back for him.
And here you were.
The door squeaked on its hinges as you opened it, revealing a pitch-black living area. You took one step inside, and as you did, a generator must have kicked on, because the room was instantly lit up. You gasped, stepping back in fear of a possible alarm, but as you waited a few seconds, there was no such thing.
“You okay?” Din asked quietly. If you weren’t shitting your pants, you might have teased him for seeming like he actually cared.
“Yeah,” you responded, winded. “Yeah. Fine.”
You looked around the room, jaw falling open slowly as you did. It might as well have been a museum. Paintings, vases, chandeliers, stones, and jewels. You could tell one thing and one thing only.
Whoever these people were, they were fucking loaded.
“Hey, Din,” you asked.
“Yeah?”
“Did Greef say anything about being allowed to steal anything else?”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“Got it,” you said, and moved further into the house.
“Greef paid some gungan to have dinner with them, so there shouldn’t be anyone in the house.”
“I was at the meeting for this job, Din.”
“I know,” he said, “Just checking.”
His voice was laced with an undertone of…hurt. You didn’t have time to think about that.
“I’m headed to the master bedroom,” you said, weaving your way through objects worth more than you would ever see in ten lifetimes. “I’ll let you know when I find the box.”
“Alright,” Din responded, and you carried on.
You circled the first floor of the house, hemming and hawing at what seemed to be an endless supply of riches.
“Are we focused, Y/N?”
“Lazer,” you responded after almost touching the shiniest blue stone you had ever seen. “Nothing on the first floor.”
“Okay,” Din responded. “How-how you holding up?”
Your eyebrows wrinkled together. “Fine. How about you?”
“I’m good,” he said softly. “Just now realizing we have never done a job like this before. Me only hearing you through the comlink. I’m used to being next to you.”
“Oh, the poor Mandalorian, all alone in the desert, cursed with the job of keeping watch. You missing me big guy?”
“Just missing being faster than you,” he jabbed. “It’s good for my ego.”
“Har har,” you responded, opening the first door you found at the top of the stairs. “You can’t deny I give you a run for your money though.”
“You sure do,” he said, once again laced with emotion. What the fuck was with him?
And why did you keep noticing?
You opened the door and were welcomed by what had to have been the biggest bed you had ever seen in your life. It took up half the room, with the rest of it being looted with more treasures, including plants, shelves of books, and…
…a music box.
“Bingo,” you said.
“What does that mean?”
“It’s a game you play for fun,” you responded. “You wouldn’t be familiar with the concept.”
“Very original.”
“I’ll be here all night,” you said with a smirk, and walked to the box. You pulled it off the shelf delicately, feeling the weight of credits in the bottom. You laughed happily, unable to hold it in.
Din laughed too. He understood immediately.
You felt for the seal on the front and began to pull it open carefully. You got it about halfway open before it immediately shut, snapping your fingers into it.
“Mother –” you said, pulling your fingers out and holding them to your chest.
“You okay?” Din asked quickly, almost as soon as the word left your mouth.
“Yeah,” you said, flexing your fingers. You laughed lightly. “I think this house may be out to get me.”
As if you spoke it into existence, all the lights in the house suddenly shut down, soaking you in darkness. Strobe lights of red began to pulse on the ceiling, the door to the bedroom shut automatically, and an ear-piercing alarm permeated the room.
You were suddenly unmoving.
“Y/N?” Din asked, his voice a whisper above the alarms. “Y/N, what is that?”
The box fell from your grip.
“Din…” you said, chest constricting, muscles locking, brain failing. “Din…”
“What’s going on?”
You started shaking your head, making your way to the door slowly. You jiggled the doorknob, then pulled on it, then yanked on it, then threw your body into it.
It was no use. You were locked in from the outside.
“Din, I –” your voice cracked with a sob. “Din, I’m stuck.”
“What do you mean?” He sounded like he was walking.
“I’m-I’m trapped,” you said, sobs now fully escaping from your mouth. “Din I’m trapped. They know I’m here. They’re gonna…”
You couldn’t finish your sentence, hand cupping your mouth as you began to hyperventilate, because suddenly, you were a child again. Put up against one of your parents’ countless tests. Locked in a basement, or a ship, or your own room, forced to find a way out, told that in the real world, if you couldn’t find a way out, you would likely be killed.
You could never pasts their tests. Never.
“Din, they’re gonna kill me.”
“Shut up,” he said firmly. It sounded like he was moving faster. “You’re not gonna die.”
His tone was unconvincing.
“Din,” you cried, tears staining the fabric covering your face, snot soaking through it. Panic was seeping itself into your bones. “Din, what do I do? What do I do?”
“You’ve gotta find a way out.”
“I can’t,” you wheezed, body sliding down the door and onto the floor, the alarms and the red overstimulating your every nerve. “I can’t Din. It’s so loud,”
“Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”
“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”
“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”
This only made you sob harder.
“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”
“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”
You nodded, now plugging your ears, and closing your eyes, rocking yourself back and forth subconsciously.
“I’m going to get you out of there,” he said, his voice suddenly nasally. “I swear to the maker I’m going to get you out of there. I just need your help, okay?”
You tried your best to gather breath. “Okay. Okay.”
“Okay,” he said. “I need you to see if there are any windows in the room. Can you do that for me?”
You swallowed, standing on shaking legs, ears still plugged. You squinted as you walked slowly, finally reaching a wall. You then felt the wall with one hand and walked forward until you felt something that resembled glass.
“I-I found one.”
“Good,” he said, sounding peculiarly winded. “Now, I’m going to need you to break it.”
You sobbed once more. “How?”
“Anything. Shoot at it, throw things at it, the fucking music box for all I care. Anything.”
You swallowed again, breathing in as deep of a breath as you could, before pulling out your gun. You felt the glass once again, and slowly backed away from it. You continued to release faint cries as you did, holding up your gun with quivering fingers, before letting blasts fly.
You heard some cracks as they landed against the glass. Once you halted your firing, you made your way back over to it, and realized they weren’t nearly enough.
“I’m going to have to kick it,” you said, some semblance of power returning into your voice.
Din didn’t respond.
You backed away again, breaths still rapid and voice still raw. But you gave that piece of fucking glass your all.
Your foot went right through it, cutting shards into your calf and ankle.
You grunted, falling back into the room.
“You get it?” Din asked, panting.
“Yeah,” you said, clutching your leg. “Yeah, I got it.”
“Good. Now stand up.”
You did.
“Walk to the window.”
You did.
“And jump.”
“What?”
“Jump now.”
It was in that moment that you realized that you truly, unequivocally, deeply trusted the Mandalorian. Because you jumped into the dark, cold night, and he caught you, mid-air.
You gasped as you landed in his arms, watching as the ground beneath you whizzed by, eyelids pealed back in awe.
A smooth, gloved hand framed your cheek and pulled your vision upwards, locking it into his visor.
You stared at him, the remnants of tears against the cold wind freezing your face, and yet his hand was the true culprit of your goosebumps.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly. The flames from his jet pack illuminating his armor in golds and reds.
You nodded. “I’m okay.”
He nodded, diverting his gaze to stare forward into the night, but keeping his hand pressed against your face.
You would say it was the shock, or the trauma, or the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In reality, all you wanted was comfort – his comfort. You couldn’t stop yourself.
You rested your forehead against the side of his visor and closed your eyes, scooting your body as close to his as possible as the two of you shot through the sky.
“Thank you, Din,” you said, tears escaping you once more. “Thank you.”
Din audibly swallowed, then removed his hand from your cheek and used it to remove your mask, before sliding his hand into the hair at the back of your neck.
“I swore to you I’d get you out of there,” he said, his voice crackly and weak. “I don’t break promises.”
You nodded against his visor, clutching desperately onto the fabric around his neck. He smelled of sweat, metal, and home.
“I’ve got you now,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
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a worthwhile purchase
pedro pascal x fem!reader | 3k words
summary: your new robe grips pedro's attention… leaving the both of you very pleased you bought it
warnings/notes: explicit (18+). smut. p in v. oral (fem receiving). established relationship. mutual teasing (but dominant pedro) some soft pedro. pretty much filth with some lead up.
a/n - first post!!! i've been writing for years but only now have the guts to post anything. sorry if it’s a bit too wordy (i just love writing detailed description) i really hope you enjoy - this one was very fun to make :)
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with a flick of the light switch, you make your way out of the darkened bathroom to join pedro in bed. the thought of curling up sweetly beside him almost as warm as the new robe, fresh from the dryer, that delicately hugs your figure.
to your surprise, he is sitting on the end of the bed, patiently, seemingly awaiting your arrival. the sound of your soft steps against the hardwood floor catches his attention, his head turning to you approaching in the doorway. instantly, his expression shifts - a look all to familiar, happily so.
“what?” you say a few times, at first with genuine curiosity, then more so with slight tease. you can’t help but smirk at him, against your best attempt at remaining unaffected by his gaze.
you’re stuck standing in your place against the doorframe; his affect on you strong as ever. nevertheless, you try to fight it - the best way you know how.
“why are you looking at me like that?” you say, teasingly. you know the meaning beneath that look. but you also know that how you approach this moment, makes the reason for that look’s presence even more avid.
“like what?” he plays along, per usual. he has that way of never breaking character. that way of not revealing his fatal smirk until he wants to.
“like a kid in a candy store.” you reply, coyly.
“i can't help it, it's how i feel.” his head tilts to the side, as to take you all in. his stare burns into you, and you love the way it stings just right.
blushing, you walk towards him; pedro’s eyes never dropping their gaze upon yours. his legs spread instinctually to allow you closer, yet his hands stay prudently at his side. you step in as far as possible, thighs touching thighs. as you place your hands at his ever-so-tense shoulders, his hands wrap swiftly around your wrists, grabbing hold of them gently. his eyes remain locked on yours as his lips, in which your timid gaze has fallen to, part to speak. “when did you get this?”
at first, your mind is too blissed out to understand what he’s referring to, but his fingers quickly bring you back to reality. one of his hands now trails to the sleeve of your filly new robe; black and satin, draped over your body in the most heavenly way. the front hangs open, exposing your figure beneath it.
“today,” you state plainly.
“any particular reason?” he says suggestively.
“i like the way it makes me feel.”
“i like the way it makes you look.” he says, eyes widening at his own words as they scan up and down your frame. you scoff slightly in response, unconvinced of his words of praise.
“i’m not even in my sexy underwear.” you find yourself to say in a whisper, though not exactly sure why. probably the nerves from his longing eyes now back on yours.
“i still think they're sexy,” his lips remain parted slightly, as if to say more. his hands fall from their place on your arms to your hips, his fingers hanging gingerly from the waistband of your panties. then he continues, shyly like a child, but with enough charm to kill a village, “can i take them off?”
his hard, dominating gaze falls soft for a moment as he begs beneath you. with the slight shift, a surge of confidence rushes through you.
“i suppose.” you say teasingly, feeling as though you now have the upper hand.
his hands make their way around your waist to your back. icy, their touch sends a shiver up your spine. abruptly, to your dismay, you exclaim "jesus your hands are cold!” your eyes fall shut, head thrown back, as your hands grasp the hair at the back of his head for support.
“not for long.” he claims, the smirk in his voice evident. and just like that, as usual, your short-lived dominance has been stolen. your eyes remain shut for a moment, as if to prepare yourself for what’s to come.
“look at me.” you tilt your head down before slowly opening your eyes; eyelids hanging low as if to cover yourself somehow. but theres no staying covered when pedro is like this.
he looks up at you, pupils enlarging as he takes you all in. you feel his hand gently trace circles on your lower back. you watch him intently as he leans forward, placing a kiss between your breasts. the contact makes you shudder, your breath hitching and becoming heavier, more needy. you’re convinced he must be able to hear your heart beating from the outside; it’s certainly all you can hear in the moment. he hums as he pulls away from the lingering kiss.
“i love that after all these years you still react that way.” he thinks he is in control here, and although you know he is, you’re desperate to act the opposite. after a moment of collection, you have the courage to speak.
“and still, after all these years, i'm impatient.” you say giving him a certain look.
“i’m gonna take things slow.” - again with the assumed control, you think.
“i’ll allow it.” you say proudly, managing to remain serious and self-assured. he chuckles at your words, a defeated grin taking over his lips. that’s better.
both of pedro’s hands trail up, locating the clasp of your bra and undoing it in a swift, skilled motion. you’d hoped he’d find your wearing it to bed silly, leading to this eventually; but this is all the more greater than you’d anticipated.
your breasts spill out slightly, though still somewhat contained by the straps wrapped around your shoulders. pedro’s hands slowly snake out from behind your back, carefully caressing your waist on the way. reaching both arms up the billowing sleeves of your robe, he grabs ahold of the straps, gently bringing them down around your arms.
“now that's real sexy, huh?” you say sarcastically at the odd maneuver. he watches you intently as you speak, spellbound by you. you’re not even sure he heard what you said. then his eyes make way to your chest, your breasts bouncing out from your bra, now fallen to the floor.
“really sexy.” he says, eyeing your now exposed chest.
his hands find their way around you again, pulling you in to close the gap. you fall into him, your legs lazily finding their place on either side of him for support. eager, his mouth finds way to your breasts, leaving a trail of sweet kisses across your skin. the warm, wet sensation leaves you entranced. your chest rapidly heaves as he works his magic. coming up for air, he looks to you, eyes darkened with lust, before diving back in for more - this time to your mouth.
his kiss starts sweet, tender, and deepens to a rough, sloppy fashion. your hands, still tangled in his hair, move down to the neck of his shirt, pulling on it as if to signal him. he obeys, lifting his arms up, not breaking the kiss until the last necessary moment. once his shirt is off, thrown somewhere across the room, he goes right back for more.
his hands are immediately back to your waist, nuzzled under the soft satin of your robe. your lips go numb from the euphoria of it all. gently, he grabs your bottom lip with his teeth, nibbling it softly. releasing it, with one last peck to your mouth, he pulls away. you whimper at the loss of contact.
“can you lay down for me?” he asks tenderly as he rises, guiding you up with him. you happily take his supporting arms, finding that your legs are no help in the process. eyes lock as you nod, biting your lip as you turn with him, your body now the one at the edge of the bed.
he leads you benevolently to lay on your back, using his knee to spread your legs as he does. your body melts into the mattress, completely at pedro’s will - and he lives for it.
your back arches as you adjust yourself on the bed. pedro’s rough hands lay softly on your knees, holding them open as he watches over you. “fuck,” his tone is rough before it turns sweet, “look at you...” you wonder if the words weren’t meant to slip out. you blush at them regardless.
as his hands slide up your thighs, your eyes squint shut in anticipation. pedro, however, wildly gazes down at you. “so wet for me already, huh...” he says brazenly, noticing your already soaked panties. his hands linger closer to tease the skin just before your still clothed pussy, achingly taking his time.
“pedro,” you whimper. the pace, although clearly stated earlier, is driving you crazy with need. he ignores your words and continues his game. climbing onto the end of the bed, he hovers over you. his hands now on your waist. his eyes locked on your burning face. you watch him, dazed, waiting for him to make his next move.
his fingers dance around the waistband of your panties, beginning to tug at them, then stopping all at once. you grunt. he laughs to himself, then proceeds again. looping around the hem, pedro pulls them down painfully slowly. the cool air of the room hits your most sensitive spot in a delightfully, erotic way.
as you lift your hips for him to remove the tangled cloth the rest of the way, he helps you - raising your legs the rest of the way then resting them over his shoulders when done. leaning down, you feel his hot breathe right where you want it.
with a kiss to each thigh, ever so close to your throbbing center, you let out an agonizing moan. “pedro, please.” you sound desperate, but you don’t care anymore.
“what?” acting coy, he begins to pull back to look to you, but you force him back down with your legs before he has the chance. you hear that smirk in his voice again when he speaks, “what do you want, baby? tell me.”
“touch me,” you say instantly, breathlessly, “now.”
in lieu of words, he breaks the distance. his mouth crashing into your pussy, spreading you open with his warm, eager tongue. he aims straight for your aching clit. a whimpering mess, your back wiggles and arches with every movement. your hands grasp hopelessly at the sheets before moving to his hair. his head bobs beneath your hands, your body squirming pleasantly beneath him.
“oh fuck,” you let out as his tongue works at all the places you need it most.
“that’s it baby,” his words are tender as he pulls away briefly. a whimper is all that fills the air as you mourn the loss of his sweet contact. with composure, you lift your head to look down at him. his face shiny, lips dripping with your slick, his eyes fixated on yours.
with a smirk he spits directly on your clit. your back arches at the euphoric sensation. eyes rolling back, your head follows swiftly with a thud to the pillow beneath it. before you can even plead for him to hurry up, pedro dives right back in for more; eager to clean up the mess he’s made.
your legs struggle to remain open, closing in around his head, as the feeling in your lower stomach builds more intensely. his hands, wrapped firmly around your thighs, hold you down and open for him. breaking contact with your aching slit once more, he speaks softly against your inner thigh, “use your hips baby, take what you need from me.” with a kiss to your warm skin, he resumes his favorite activity.
this time he aims further down, fucking your hole with his skillful tongue. your hips remain still beneath his touch, too focused on keeping a steady breath. but he is clear in his demands; he always is. pressing his nose to your clit, the motion of his work creates the perfect rhythm for an increasing high. tightening your grip on the curls by his neck, you wiggle and grind beneath his face. with every flick of his tongue, every bounce of his nose on your throbbing bud, you’re tugging, pulling at his hair. soft, pleased moans vibrate against you’re wet folds.
“oh god,” you exclaim, “fuckkk,” your words dissolve into a pathetic whimper. he takes this as a sign to go harder. mouth now returning to your clit, he begins to suck, his hand now nearing to join it. two rough fingers slip up and down your opening, acclimating them to your pussy. teasingly slowly and with intentional force, he fills you up just right.
“pedro please,” you huff out in agony. removing his mouth from your wet slit, he looks up to you; pretty as a devil. fingers still working your pussy he speaks, tone low and full of lust, “please... what?” you know the game he’s playing at.
not an ounce of the teasing confidence you earlier tried to possess is left in you as he tires you from the inside out. when you don’t speak quick enough, his rough fingers begin to bend, curling up into you in an assertive manner.
a frustrated “fuck,” leaves your lips, quivering from the overstimulation. “please,” he watches as your chest rises and falls with heavy, shaky breathes, “i need you...” you know that’s not going to satisfy him to the extent he desires, so you breathlessly continue, “i need you to fuck me.”
fingers slipping out of you with a pop, pedro brings them to your mouth with dark eyes searing into your own. “open,” you oblige with no contest. taking his dripping fingers into your mouth, your tongue licks the mess you’d made of them clean.
with swiftness, he’s at the end of the bed, on his feet before you; eyes never leaving yours. your own, heavy with lust, look hungrily up to him. your shaking fingers find their way to peaked nipples from their place clutching the sheets beneath you. circling your raised peaks you begin to thrust your hips at nothing; eager for the presence of him.
pedro’s hands are at his waistband. rapidly, he undoes his belt with ease. jeans falling to his feet, he wastes no time in fully removing them before he’s grabbing you by the hips to pull you to him.
adjusting himself to your entrance, he spits on your open, throbbing pussy once more before he slides in with delicious ease. you pull your bottom lip in to stop the whimper that begs to fall from it.
“that’s it baby, atta girl.” one of his hands presses firmly down on your right hip, holding you in place. at the same time, his other hand lingers up to grab ahold of your breast. the room, dim and hot, is filled only with the sounds of skin on skin, of whimpers and moans, of pure, overwhelming pleasure.
his thrusts are steady and deep before he suddenly pulls out, running the tip of his cock firmly against your aching clit. your back arches involuntarily, head digging firmly into the pillow for support. with efficiency, he’s back inside in an instant.
he’s huddled over on top you now, his chest on yours, craving to be as close to you as he can. as he dips his head into the curve of your neck, hot breathe fans across your skin sending a shiver down your burning hot spine. your rapid pulses and shaky breaths begin to sync as pedro pounds up into your g-spot. your arms go suddenly to grip his shoulder’s for support as he hits it just right.
head still buried in your neck, he leaves sweet kisses behind your ear, nipping at the soft the skin here and there. with his thrusts becoming sloppier and slower he speaks, “you close baby?” your walls clench from his words, your back arching under his weight. “fuck,” he hisses.
“cum for me baby,” he demands before softening his tone, “can you do that?” he slips out slightly before diving deep into you again. hard and fast, he works your body to climax. spasming, inside and out, you begin to whine and cry out. clenching down tight around his cock, you have so much built up energy you simply don’t know what to do with. your nails dig into the toned muscles at the back of his neck as you squirm beneath him. “yeahhh, just like that baby,” he hums, coaxing you through your orgasm.
the pressure in your stomach builds and builds before it collapses like a wave against the shore. gasping for air, your hands caress pedro’s head as he follows right behind you. with a final rough thrust, he’s done for - the tough man that held so much power over you, now a whimpering mess at your will.
“oh fuck baby, fuck,” he whines.
moments pass, your bodies still entwined as you come down from your shared breathless high. with a kiss to your temple, pedro finally removes his twitching cock from within you. a low and gutural groan escapes him as he slides through your tight walls one final time.
falling to the bed beside you, his arms stay tenderly wrapped around your body. laying there easing your breath, you look around the room. layers of clothing lay scattered about, but the only thing you care to take note of is your new robe tousled on the floor. a lazy smirk creeps onto your flushed face.
pedro, watching over you with admiration, brushes the unruly hair from your face. noticing your gaze fixated on something, he follows it. with a soft chuckle and a tender squeeze to your hip he states into the still calm after the storm, “i’m real glad you got that thing.” he plants a warm kiss to your shoulder. turning to face him, you sink into the depth of his big brown eyes.
“me too,” you hum, blissfully.
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fluff#husband pedro pascal#joel miller#javier pena#din djarin#mando#the mandalorian#pedro pascal fic#pedro smut#pedro fluff#pedro pascal fandom#javier pena smut#joel miller smut#established relationship#fem reader#x reader#pedro is daddy#pedro#fairies-in-the-garden
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Familiar & Unfamiliar
din djarin x female!reader
warning: attempted sexual assault (not by our boy mando, and i don’t describe it in depth the furthest it goes is non-consensual kissing), light smut, angst then comfort, then fluff fluff fluff, identity theft, mentions of slave trade, canon violence, dom!din trying hard to be sub!din for you, he doesn’t succeed for long
word count: 4,174
Summary: You travel the galaxy with a Mandalorian who is much softer than his impenetrable beskar would lead others to believe. He leaves you with his son to search for a Quarry, but it’s not the Mando you’ve come to know and love who returns to you.
“It shouldn’t take long.” Mando hummed as he collected his gear from his weapon’s storage. You sat cross legged on the Razor Crest’s floor with the child in your lap. His small green hand played with the small, metal ball he seemed to always find. Your hand stroked his ears only stopping to push the ball away from his mouth when he began to try and chew on it. Mando turned around to stare down at you. “Will you be alright here?”
After traveling with the Mandalorian for the last two months, babysitting and completing repairs on the ship, you had finally grown accustomed to the silver beskar covered man. Initially it had been difficult for you to even look at the man for longer than a second⏤ too intimidated by the black t-shape visor that stared back at you. However, joining him had been your only option at the time, an act of self preservation, so you had to push your fear aside. Luckily, you had quickly learned that though the metal he was covered in was impossible to penetrate, the man underneath was as soft as they come.
You learned that the solemn, silent, and dangerous facade Mando wore was more or less an interpretation of what people saw. Yes, he was dangerous. You had seen him wrestle quarries three time his size and come out unscathed, but you had also seen him humming a song under his breath while giving the child a bath. You had seen Mando go out of his way to purchase you a new pair of boots in the market simply because he noticed your discomfort with your current pair. The brief times you felt his touch, a brush against your arm or a hand on your back, it was soft and comforting. His eyes were impossible to see behind his helmet, but you could feel the care in his gaze. Having Mando’s attention on you felt like safety.
Mando called out your name and you blinked in surprise. “Oh, um, yeah! We’ll be fine, don’t worry.”
“I shouldn’t be gone long. Days at most.” He reassured before you could even ask. You stood up and Mando drifted closer⏤ his gloved hand reached out brush the child’s head. Mando chuckled when his son cooed and giggled in response. You heard a long time ago that the best judge of a person’s character was how they treated animals and children. Mando passed that test with flying colors. “You remember the rules?”
“Hmm, no running with scissors?” You joked. Mando tilted his head and you chuckled. “Don’t open the Razor Crest’s ramp for anyone but you, and if I do have to leave for some emergency, get to a crowded spot with plenty of witnesses and talk to no one. Not until you come for us.”
Mando nodded in approval. He gave the child’s head one last pet along the ears and as his hand pulled away you felt his leather covered fingers drag down the length of your bare arm. Heat crept up the back of your neck and you prayed to any deity that was listening that Mando hadn’t heard the hitch in your breath. You were not attracted to your metal armored Mandalorian employer and friend. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself.
Without another word, Mando made his way to the back of the cargo hold. He opened the ramp before heading down and you called out for him to be careful. Mando glanced over his shoulder, at you and the child, and you waved. You stood at the cargo hold’s edge as Mando pressed a button on his gauntlet and the ramp began to rise. As the metal door rose, you stared at the mandalorian’s back until the ramp cut him off from sight.
Din was more distracted than usual and he told himself it wasn’t because of the newest addition to the Razor Crest. It obviously wasn’t because of you. No, he was just busy with all the bounties he was juggling and the stress of trying to find the child’s people. Then the added dilemma of his current quarry. Already he had been on the flesh trader’s trail for three days. Three full days. That was nothing in comparison to past hunts that would take him weeks on end, but Din found his patience wearing very, very thin.
“Are you ready yet, mate?” A voice asked through the closed door.
Din had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. His only lead came from a mercenary who was hunting an Inner Rim politician that had come all the way out here to participate in the slave trade. It was the only access Din would have to get into the market to find his quarry and it came at a cost. Din glanced down at the helmet held in his hands. It was an oddly shaped red thing from Kaleesh culture. His new mercenary partner made it very clear that if he walked in as a Mandalorian everything would be lost. On any normal bounty Din would’ve risked it anyways. There was very little in the galaxy that could coax him out of his armor, leave him bare to the world, but a child in danger did it.
A mother had come to him after he searched for a lead in the local cantina on his first night. She had fallen to her knees in front of him and begged for his help⏤ she offered everything she owned and more in return. Her only child, an eleven year old little girl, had been stolen away from her. Dragged to the flesh market to be sold. Din swore to her that he’d bring her back. On his word as a Mandalorian, she would be reunited with her daughter. He just wasn’t allowed to do it looking like a Mandalorian.
“Seriously, mate, we’re going to be late!” Trigg, the mercenary, barked once more.
Din settled the helmet over his head and shifted uncomfortably. It didn’t fit quite like his real one did, but it was tight enough that he wasn’t worried about it falling off in the heat of battle. For a second, he just stared at himself in the mirror. Red armor of cloth and leather covered every inch of his skin, black gloves pulled on tight, and his oddly shaped helmet covered his face entirely. Din hated it more than anything. But, the sooner he saved the girl and caught his quarry, the sooner he could return to his ship. Return to the child and you.
“I’ll be right out.” Din called back. He settled all his beskar armor pieces into the tarp bag he had borrowed from the child’s mother. It was her home they were using as a base of sorts. Din hid the bag in the closet of the room behind a stack of boxes. It made him anxious to leave his armor behind, but he forced himself to step away and open the door.
Trigg stood in the hall wearing his own personal gear. The blond man had scars from a raking claw on the side of his head leaving those patches with sparse hair. His arms were crossed over his chest and he stared at Din in a mix of annoyance and impatience. “Finally. Did you have to do your hair?”
“It’s you we’re waiting on now.” Din replied dryly as he marched past the man to the door.
The sooner, the better.
Night had fallen for the third night of Mando being gone. It was too soon for you to be worried about him, but a ball of anxiety still sat in your gut. He had been away for longer periods of time before. The longest thus far being three weeks. You were mumbling a soft song under your breath as you rocked the child to sleep. When his eyes drifted close, you carefully set him in the hammock above Mando’s bunk and tucked a blanket around him.
When you were certain that the kid was settled, you drifted toward the fresher to get ready for bed yourself. You wondered what it would take to convince Mando to pick up a bounty on a planet with an ocean soon. Going from the lava plains of Nevarro to the deserts of Tatooine and now this dusty Outer Rim world was bleak. You missed water. You had grown up near a river on your homeworld and spent a decent amount of time there. It wasn’t until you saw dry planet after dry planet that you truly began to appreciate natural bodies of water.
You shrugged out of your clothes, tossing them aside, and slid into a pair of shorts and one of Mando’s shirts. It had been borrowed early on in your travels and now it belonged more to you than it did him. The dark shirt was large enough to cover most of your shorts. You had been in the middle of washing your face when you heard the tell tale sound of the ramp. Quickly, you grabbed a towel and dried your face while rushing out of the fresher.
Mando was walking up the ramp just as you entered the cargo hold and you shot him a smile, “Hey, Mando.” He came to a sudden stop. You glanced around but saw no evidence of a quarry behind or near him. Had they gotten away? “What happened with the quarry?”
The Mandalorian crossed his arms and a nervous energy settled over your skin. The way he stood just seemed…off. And, the silence that surrounded him wasn’t the usual comfortable quiet you had grown used to. Mando’s helmet tilted some, as if his eyes were raking over your form, and you tugged on the bottom of your shirt anxiously. This was an outfit you wore to sleep every night on the Razor Crest, but right now was the first time you felt uncomfortable having it on around Mando.
“Are you⏤Are you injured?” You asked.
Mando strolled closer to you. Another bit of him that wasn’t right⏤ his gait. As you tried to gather your thoughts, he came to a stop right in front of you. Nearly chest to chest. A lump had formed in your throat, mouth dry, and you tried to swallow it down. Being around Mando always made your stomach feel as if it were filled with butterflies, made your heart race out of your chest, made an addicting warmth pool in your core.
That was not how you felt right now.
Your hand reached out, as quickly as you could manage it, and slammed against the lock button of Mando’s bunk. The metal door slid down. It clicked into place, and the Mandalorian in front of you grabbed you by the throat and shoved you back until you slammed into the Razor Crest’s wall. You clawed at the familiar, gloved hand tightening around your throat as a low, unfamiliar chuckle rumbled through the modulator.
“What’s wrong, baby?” A voice that did not belong to your Mandalorian asked. “Aren’t you happy to see me? You were a minute ago.”
“Wh⏤Who⏤” You tried to spit out but you could barely breathe let alone form words.
“I’m your Mandalorian, baby.” The cruel laugh coming out from behind the t-shape visor you found comfort in felt so very wrong. He yanked you off the wall and released your throat. You managed to gasp a single breath of air before he backhanded you across the face hard enough to see stars. You fell to your knees and elbows roughly, a cry of pain leaving your lips, but you struggled to find a weapon of any kind. “That’s right. Crawl away, baby. Run. I’m a Mandalorian who likes to hunt, and now you’re my prey. How’s that sound?”
Your hand found a screwdriver, lying off to the side where you had been working on something under the floorboard earlier, just as he kicked you in the side to flip you over. The imposter knelt on the ground over you and you tried to stab him where only the flight suit sat. Unfortunately, he turned fast enough that the screwdriver struck beskar and did absolutely nothing. He laughed once more as you gave up the attack to try and slip away, but he grabbed your hands by the wrist and pinned you to the ground. The imposter sat on top of your thighs, kneeling over you, and you were forced to stare at your reflection in Mando’s armor.
It would be a bold faced lie for you to say you hadn’t daydreamed about having the beskar armor on top of you⏤ the weight of it pressing into you in every delicious way you could think of. But not like this. Not with a stranger inside of it.
“Who knew the ship came with such a pretty little whore.” The imposter hummed. He shifted your arms so he could pin both your wrists with one hand. With his other, he grasped the bottom of the beskar helmet and pulled it off. The man’s eyes were a piercing blue. Cold and cruel. Blond hair covered his scalp except on the side of his head where the scars of what looked like claw marks sat. He tossed the helmet aside and gave you a sickening grin. “Is that what you’re here for? You keep the Mandalorian’s bed warm? Let him fuck you when he’s done with a hunt?”
“Get the kriff off of me!” You struggled against his grip, against his touch, but nothing seemed to deter him from using his other hand to run over your body. You screamed until you were hoarse and when you cried out for Mando the man sitting on top of you just laughed. Faintly, you could hear frantic tapping behind Mando’s bunk door and fear struck you. Was the child awake? He wouldn’t be able to unlock the door from inside you didn’t think.
It seemed the imposter was too immersed in you to hear the sound.
“How about this,” The man leaned closer into your space, “I get a quick taste of you now, and then, once we’re up and in hyperspace, I’ll fuck you better than your Mando ever could, yeah?”
His lips crashed down on yours roughly. You tried to turn your face away, but the imposter bit down on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Between the metallic taste of your blood on your tongue and the smell of his rancid breath you were going to be sick. You gasped in pain and he took advantage by shoving his tongue into your mouth. He pressed his hips down into you, grinding against your stomach now, and the feel of his erection pressing into you made a horrified sob slip form you. It seemed to only spurn him on further. He let go of one of your hands to grasp at the waistband of your pants.
The sound of sprinting footsteps made the imposter sit up and you were barely able to register what was happening when a body dressed in red leather slammed into the beskar covered imposter⏤ both men falling away. Taking advantage of your freedom, you scrambled back as quickly as you could. The stranger dressed in red, wearing an oddly shaped helmet that covered his face, had a hand wrapped around the imposter’s throat while his other fist pounded away at the man’s face. Grunts of anger filled the air with every blow thrown and the imposter fought back only for a moment before his body went slack.
You scrambled away further but your back hit a metal crate sitting in the cargo hold. It shifted slightly and the sound made the stranger sit up and spin around. You gasped⏤panicked. Heart still racing. The imposter laid motionless. His face bruised, broken, and bloody beyond all recognition. You were breathing hard, trying to suck in more air as the air you did get brought no relief. The stranger jumped up, motions smooth and agile, and rushed to you. A cry of fear left you as you tried to pathetically jump up, but his hands wrapped around you. Soft, but firm. A comforting weight.
“It’s me. It’s me. You’re safe, mesh’la.” A familiar voice came out of the unfamiliar mask. The bright red and angry shapes still jarring to look at and you tried to struggle away. He pulled away to rip off his gloves. One hand came to rest on the side of your face, while the other lifted the red helmet just enough to reveal a jaw covered in dark scruff and lips. “Listen to me, mesh’la. You’re safe. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s me. I’m here.”
You were still shaking, your entire body threatening to tremble into pieces, but your breaths were beginning to grow controlled. The warm hand on your face was grounding. It was familiar. You couldn't see the man’s eyes, but you could feel his soft gaze. Safe. You felt safe.
“M⏤Mando?” You gasped.
“Yes.” He nodded. “I’m here, mesh’la. You’re safe now.”
You broke into an uncontrollable sob, unable to bite it back, and Mando didn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms. The coarse, red armor you buried your face into felt unfamiliar, but the strong arms that wrapped around you felt right.
For the first time, Din felt uncomfortable in his helmet. It smelled of the spice that Trigg disgustingly chewed on. He couldn’t even bring himself to pull his armor on. It left him in a pair of plain sweats and shirt. After setting you in his bunk, the child curled into your side, he had stripped the mercenary out of his beskar and thrown the piece of shit into the carbonite freezer.
The job had gone so well then so bad. Din found the young Rodian child and killed his quarry. He’d only get half the bounty with the flesh trader dead, but something was better than nothing. The moment he returned the girl to her mother his heart had stopped when he realized his armor was missing. Din had sprinted to the Razor Crest, faster than he had ever run, and still he hadn’t come soon enough.
Din stepped out of the fresher. The Razor Crest was in hyperspace and the cargo hold was dark. The only light spilling from the open door behind him. The sound of whimpering filled the otherwise silent space around him. Din hurried to the bunk to see you tossing and turning. He scooped the child up and set him in the hammock before crawling in to try and calm you.
He called out your name, bare hands on your shoulders, and when your eyes snapped open, thanks to his visor, he could see clearly the way panic and fear filled them. You screamed and began to swing at him. His helmet. It was his helmet. Without thinking, Din ripped his helmet off and threw it out of the bunk. Din pulled you into his arms again, pressing your face to his shoulder, and whispered reassurances.
“It’s me, Mesh’la. It’s me. I’m sorry. I was wearing the helmet. You’re safe, I promise.”
“Mando?” You breathed. He buried his hand in your hair and pulled you tighter into his chest. As if the two of you weren’t already tangled together in the small confines of his bunk. “I’m sorry I hit you⏤”
“It didn’t hurt. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” Din didn’t know which emotion waged in him the most⏤ guilt or anger. They were neck and neck. You took in a deep shaky breath and your hot breath on his neck made him sigh in relief. You were safe in his arms. Din rubbed your back and the question fell out before he could hold it back. “Did he… Mesh’la, did⏤”
“No.” You whispered. “You got here just in time.”
Din could feel tears soaking into his shirt. When the tears stopped, Din coaxed you out of the bunk and onto the cargo hold floor. He grabbed a first aid kit and rushed back so you weren’t left alone for too long. The only light still came from the open door of the fresher and he sat so his back was to it. The dim light illuminated your features and it was like a spotlight to the injuries you sported. He had told you that you could open your eyes. With the way you sat, it’d be too dim for you to see his face, but you said you didn’t want to risk it.
He let his fingers trace the forming bruise surrounding your right eye. It trailed down to brush against the torn skin of your lower lip. Dank farrik. That kriffing fucker had bit you. He could see the outline of teeth. Din’s jaw clenched. He grabbed a bit of bacta and rubbed it gently into the forming bruise. He was going to do the same for your lower lip when you stopped him.
“Did I hurt you?” He blurted.
“No, no. Not that.” You mumbled. “Can I… Can I ask you for a favor?”
“Anything, mesh’la. Anything.”
“Can you kiss me?” You asked. Din was certain he had misheard you. It was why he sat in silence. He was trying to puzzle out what it was you had actually said. You spoke again, nervous, “You don’t have to. I⏤I…”
“You want me to…kiss you?”
You nodded. Eyes still closed lightly. “I know it’s dumb. It⏤ I just don’t want to feel his lips anymore. I don’t want the taste of him on me.”
“That’s not dumb, mesh’la.”
Din settled one of his hands on the side of your face. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Din began to lean in. He didn’t want to startle you. He wanted to give you every opportunity to pull away if you needed to. Din would be lying to himself, again, if he said he hadn’t imagined the way your lips would feel on him. But not like this. He hated that these were the circumstances, but there wasn’t a single thing Din wouldn’t do for you if you asked.
His nose brushed against yours. Din was close enough that he could feel your lips part. He waited one second more before pressing his lips softly against yours. One of your hands lifted to tangle in his hair and a simple gesture shouldn’t make him feel so hot under his skin. The kiss was slow and tender. Din was terrified to press too hard and bring you pain. The injury to your lower lip still so fresh. And after what you had just suffered through, he wanted you to have all the control. If you needed to use him to rid yourself of that nightmare, to erase the memory that bastard left on your lips, then he would.
Your tongue brushed against his lower lip, tracing it, and he parted his lips for you giving you room to explore him. Maker, the taste of you was so sweet. It took every single ounce of Din’s self control to not deepen the moment even further. The kiss grew almost frantic. A hand in his hair and another at the back of his neck to pull him into you. You pulled back just enough to suck in a sharp breath before your lips was back on his and Din lost his battle for self control.
He wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap. Din was caught off guard when you pushed down to press yourself against his already hard cock, but it was a welcome surprise. He grabbed your hips, hands tightening into the soft skin there, and grinded into you. You moaned into his mouth and Din pulled away briefly so he could press open mouth kisses along your jaw then down your neck until he reached your shoulder. Thoughtlessly, he bit down, wanting to leave evidence of himself on you, and you let out a sharp gasp while grinding into him again. Din ran his tongue against the bite soothingly.
Din’s hands slipped under your shirt and he desperately let his lips find yours once more. His tongue slipped past your lips, but then he tasted it. The sharp, metallic tang of blood. Din pulled back quickly realizing his plan to let you run the show had gone to shit. Both of you were breathless.
“Are you okay, mesh’la??” He pulled one hand away from your hip to touch your face. His thumb brushed against your lower lip and in the dim light he could see the tint of red.
“Thank you.” You breathed. You leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss that missed and only landed on the corner of his lips. Then you leaned your head on his shoulder and just took slow breaths. Din let his knuckles drag up and down your spine. He could feel your entire body going limp as you melted into his hold. You mumbled, “Thank you, Mando.”
“Din.” He replied, but he didn’t know if you had already fallen asleep or not. “Call me Din.”
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I just saw the video of the interviewer and Pedro where she called him daddy and asked how he was doing and his response was, “I’m alright, mama.” And I am in DESPERATE need of a fic. Wherever you want to go with it.
pairing: Pedro Pascal x interviewer!reader
a/n: This wasn't supposed to go like this. It's much more fluffy than I expected, but oh well, hope you enjoy.
You were nervous, as always.
The two years you'd been doing this flew out the window each time you knew you had to interview him.
It was such a stupid thing, a schoolgirl crush, but as much as you reminded yourself just how idiotic it was, the feeling never quite faded.
You had no idea what it was, the way he shook your hand the first time, the way his eyes never left yours, the sweet sound of your name rolling off his tongue...
It was all in the back of your mind, locked and loaded for you to remember.
You try to be calm with him though, playful even, but god if he doesn't make it hard.
He and his handsomeness and what you firmly believed was involuntary flirtatiousness.
You were taking a deep breath when you saw the flashes on the carpet starting to die down.
fuck.
It was time.
just like magic, he appeared before you in a few moments, followed by his assistant.
They exchanged a few words and you saw Pedro's eyes focus on you while the men beside him explained to him something to his ear.
You swallowed thickly, his gaze draining all the breath out of you.
God, he was beautiful, even his outfit fit him to a t.
Before you had gotten enough time to properly freak out, he was walking towards you.
"good evening Pedro!" you said cheerfully.
"good evening to you too Y/n"
You had to remind yourself his assistant had probably just reminded him of your name, and that he didn't just know it on the tip of his tongue.
You knew what you needed to say next, but the pit in your stomach informed you it wasn't a good idea.
You forced the fear down.
"so how're you doing daddy?"
He chuckled, and you couldn't help but stare.
"I'm alright mama" he grinned, and you swore you could feel your brain leaking out of your ears, as it had melted.
mama?
"you don't like that?" he noticed the expression on your face.
"I-I do" you blushed "maybe a little too much"
What the fuck
Why the fuck did you just say that?
He laughed softly, a smirk tugging at his lips " That's interesting" he spoke, and you felt like you were about to die, so you decided to change subject.
"so, if you remember-"
"I remember" he interrupted
"let me ask the question first" you laughed
"I don't have to, I remember every interview with you" he smiled "You're not easy to forget"
oh
If you were having troubles breathing before, your lungs were now completely useless.
"I-" you gulped, your eyes glancing at the expecting man behind the camera.
"It's alright sweetheart, what was the question?"
You were as red as the blood flowing beneath your skin.
"You really wanna get me fired, don't you?" you joked.
"that's the last thing I want" he shook his head "how else would I get to see you?"
"well there are other ways," you said before you could stop yourself.
He smirked, and you noticed his eyes scanning your face "I know there are" he said "Maybe I should get to work on those"
and just like that, your heart stopped.
did he mean...?
You couldn't think about it, not now, you had an interview to carry on, or you were actually gonna get fired.
"You have to stop"
"stop what?"
"I can't interview you if I have a heart attack, Pedro" You smiled, and he reciprocated, his eyes playful and yet somewhat... adoring.
"You're right, I'll stop," he said "What's the first question, mama?"
this bastard.
__ __ __
"thank you very much," you said, ending the interview.
"thank you" he smiled, as the camera shut off and the cameramen slipped away after murmuring something to your ear.
You could hear all the other interviewers shout and call for him, but for some reason, he didn't move.
"You should go," you told him "They're all waiting to interview you"
"I know," he said as if it physically pained him "but first I wanted to do something I've been thinking of for a while now"
"what's that?" you asked
"ask for your number"
You froze. Every molecule of your being stilled in shock.
"I-" you stuttered "a-are you serious?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"b-because you're Pedro Pascal"
He grinned "And you're y/n y/l/n, the most beautiful and charming woman I've ever met"
Your mouth couldn't help but to break into the dreamiest of smiles, and according to Pedro, the most breathtaking too.
"where?"
he frowned
"Where do I give you my number?"
he too, broke into a smile, relief washing over him as you accepted "here" he patted his pockets "Put it in my phone" he said, handing it to you.
You did, your fingers threatening to type wrong as they trembled.
"done" you said, giving it back
"I gotta go now" he sighed "but..."
your eyes shot up to his
"please don't change your mind sweetheart" he begged
"wouldn't dream of it" you promised, earning a big smile, as he backed away into the crowd on the carpet.
You put your hands on the metal fence in front of you, exhaling deeply as you let your head fall between your shoulders.
did that just really happen?
Did I finally go completely crazy?
And then, just as you were about to accept your fate as a soon-to-be psychiatric hospital patient, your phone dinged.
Two new messages from an unknown number lit up the screen.
-hey mama
-so do you have plans for tomorrow night?
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x fem reader#pedro pascal x female reader#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal interview#the last of us hbo#the last of us#tlou#tlou hbo#the mandalorian#narcos#joel miller#javier pena#mando#pedro pascal x interviewer!reader#fluff
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Not sure if you’d be into this butttt with the little cabin that Din just received - could we get like a glimpse of domestic life with din, reader, grogu, annndd maybe another kid or a kid on the way? Smut is welcome! But also it doesn’t have to have it
Ok hope you like the idea love you bye 😂
The Cabin
pairing: din djarin x f!reader
rating: F (one mildly steamy line of dialogue but besides that just some domestic fluff)
wc: <1k
din masterlist
The days of sneaking glimpses of The Mandalorian when he’d come to the school you taught at to drop off and pick his son up were long gone by now, but standing on the porch of Din’s cabin that he insisted was now your cabin, you couldn’t help but stare.
Din was in the yard, sparring with Grogu to keep his apprentice’s skills sharp.
There wasn’t even a sliver of skin exposed, and yet he still looked like the sexiest man you’d ever seen. It was in the way he moved, the way he taught, the way he spoke to his child like every child wanted to be spoken to. He was just so…competent. A competent fighter, though he preferred to keep that side of himself far from you. A competent father, his devotion to Grogu running as deeply as his devotion to his Creed, perhaps even deeper. And Maker knows you can’t forget his competency as a lover—his skillful hands, his neediness, his attentiveness, his desire to make you feel good, it all made you feel drunk with adoration and lust.
“That’s enough for the day,” he announced through labored breathing, the child’s use of the force making the fight nearly fair. “You did good, kid.”
“You both did well,” you added from the porch, watching as Grogu leapt across the lawn towards you until you were bending down to pick him up. “Especially you.”
“He’s getting good,” Din said, meeting the two of you on the porch. “He’s a better fighter than most adults.”
“Well, he’s your son, after all,” you replied, looking into the black of Din’s visor. Din tilted his helmet at you, something you’d slowly learned to read as a smile, and reached to pinch your chin with his gloved hand. “Lunch is ready. You must be starving, little guy.” Grogu chirped and cooed in confirmation, his wide eyed look of excitement never failing to bring a smile to your face. Looking to Din, you lifted your hand to scratch his chin from beneath his helmet. “You hungry?”
“Starving,” he replied, low and husky.
“I’m talking about food,” you laughed and turned around to walk into the house with Grogu on your hip. Din let out the slightest of chuckles and followed you inside, the door closing behind him.
“Food sounds nice too, cyar’ika.”
Later on in the evening, you found yourself sitting beside Din on the bench in front of the cabin, the lid of his helmet lifted as he sipped on a drink. Your head rested on his shoulder, his armor off, and watched Grogu chase a frog around the yard.
“How’s the little one treating you today?” Din asked, his voice unmodulated and clearer than normal. You smiled down at your just-now swelling stomach and ran a hand over it.
“Treating me okay,” you answered. “Likes to kick when you talk.”
“Really?” he huffed a chuckle. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
“I think it is,” you looked at him with a smile. “They’re just excited to meet their dad.”
“I’m excited to meet them, too,” he replied, soft and sincere, as though he were on the verge of tears. Turning back to face his child as he used the force to freeze the frog he’d been playing with and hover it back into his waiting hands, Din let out another chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” you asked, smiling.
“I just never…” He paused, looking back to you before closing the lid of his helmet, his voice becoming modulated again. “Just never thought I’d have all this.”
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#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fluff#din djarin fluff#din djarin fic#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din dijarin fanfiction#din dijarin x reader#mando#mando fanfiction#mando x reader#mando fluff#mando x you#mando fic#the mandalorian fanfiction#the mandolorian x reader
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Stormy Skies
Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no pronouns used I think)
Category: friends to lovers
Summary: Din breaks you out of an Imperial prison (loosely based on chapter 15).
Warnings: angst, fluff, touched-starved Din, helmet is off, prison, nasty guards, restraints, bad men, talks of death, separation, loose implication of what bad men can do, pet names (cyar’ika), canon-divergence (I guess??), when I say loosely based I mean very loosely based
Word count: 5.5k
A/N: Sad, brown-eyed, pathetic love of my life. (He's not pathetic but I’ll make him pathetic.) Din is slightly out of character but only because he's head over heels in love and feeling all soft and squishy inside about it. He's also a little insecure. Poor guy. It's purposefully ambiguous about how long reader has been imprisoned, so guess however long you'd like.
Consider buying me a coffee :)
It took three weeks, four days, sixteen hours and twenty two minutes before you realised that the inside of this Imperial prison would be the only thing you saw for the foreseeable future. The three walls and one row of bars now being your home. After that you resigned yourself to the idea that you'd be there forever so you stopped counting the days, the weeks, the... months? You didn't know how long you'd been there and you didn't want to know how long either.
All you knew is that you wanted to leave. Not because you were scared of death or scared of never seeing the outside world again. But because you missed two very important people in your life. The big, scary Mandalorian who had hired you just under a year ago as his mechanic and his strange green son who had weird superpowers who you sometimes babysat. The both of them meant the world to you and the idea of never seeing them again hurt you. You feared for the child's life as he had also been taken at the same time as you but had been imprisoned elsewhere, probably to be experimented on. And you feared for the state of your Mandalorian who would be lost without his kid.
"Food."
The announcement made your stomach lurch as it knocked you out of your thoughts. A small plate, with a pile of something in the middle, was pushed into your cell - probably the most unappealing thing in the galaxy but your only source of nutrition. Your mind strayed to nicer things as you desperately tried to ignore the revolting taste.
You thought of days spent in the Razor Crest, your Mandalorian's ship, as the three of you travelled from planet to planet in order for bounties to be collected. The memories of attempting to teach the child to speak some words in Basic but only getting baby babbling in response, it didn't matter as his eyes always shone as if he knew what you were saying to him.
You ached for your clan of three to be reunited, but realistically you knew that was unlikely. If anything, you just wanted Grogu to be safe. Back with Din and safe. And there was no place safer for him than under the care of Din Djarin.
A guard walking into your cell had you scrambling back against the wall as he took your plate from you and laughed, slightly muffled by his helmet. He kicked at the chain bound around your feet and walked out again, locking the bars behind him.
He was your least favourite of everyone who served in your section of the prison. He didn't seem to like you very much, and wasn't afraid to show it. You feared that one day he'd use the power he had over you to do something awful. So, for now, you tried to play as nice as possible with him.
The sound of low chattering caught your attention, the unmistakable noise of Stormtrooper armour bashing against itself making its way down the corridor. Plastic against plastic made an unbearable racket. You looked up to peek through the bars of your cell and crawled towards the sound, hoping that they weren't coming for you. If you could guess from the sound of them alone, you'd say there were about three or four of them. Definitely more than two and probably less than five.
Your assumption was proven correct when three Troopers turned the corner at the end of the hallway. One was clearly in charge, leading the other two. You thought his name was... you didn't know actually. And you didn't care either. But he was their superior. But the other two... They were low ranking officers, obvious by their uniform and the way they looked around as if they'd never seen the inside of a prison before. Maybe it was their first day on the job? Boy, were they in for a surprise.
The bald one seemed vaguely familiar, although he looked like pretty much any other guy in the galaxy so you didn't dwell on it too much. The other one, however, held no resemblance to anyone you'd ever seen before. He had sad eyes. That was the first thing you noticed about him. Sad, brown eyes. Along with a strong nose that matched his face. Golden skin. And messy hair along with unkempt facial hair. Very un-Trooperish. You wondered how he managed to get away with it. He was rather beautiful to look at. You pushed the thought away with a reminder of what he was - Empire.
As they got closer, you began to overhear their conversation. They were talking about some battle that had been fought a while ago, lots of soldiers lost. Baldy appeared mildly upset as he disclosed that some of his friends had died. Brown eyes wasn't listening and clearly searching for something. And he seemed to find it when his eyes landed on you.
He paused for the smallest fraction of a second before he carried on walking with the other two. He stared at you but you didn't back down, staring right back through the cell bars. You wouldn't let a Trooper intimidate you, especially not a new one. A sense of achievement hit you when he finally looked away, swallowing thickly and averting his gaze as far away from you as possible. He nudged the bald guy next to him with his elbow and tilted his head in your direction.
What the fuck did these guys want with you? You shivered at the thought, a million horrifying ideas running through your brain. You relaxed slightly when they disappeared around the next corner.
The rest of the day passed slowly, as they all did, and soon enough the lights were going out and all prisoners were warned to stay silent for the next few hours. You shifted to get your body in the most comfortable position possible, pretty difficult when you had chains restraining your limbs, and laid down, resting your head in the crook of your elbow.
You drifted off easily, the low drone of the power running through the walls and the floor lulling you to sleep. With nothing to do all day, zero access to natural light and limited portions of food you were tired all of the time. And the little energy you had was reserved for keeping your defences up when guards entered your cell on rare occasions.
Your dreams were full of Din and Grogu, as usual, and you often wondered during your conscious moments whether your brain was reminding you of happy moments to keep you sane or telling you what you'd had and what you'd lost as a way of punishing you.
What you didn't expect was to be awoken a short time later by your cell door being unlocked, the clanging of the metal shocking you out of your dreams. You sat up instantly, freezing when two looming figures walked in, whispering to each other in hushed tones.
The two Troopers from earlier.
You felt sick.
They were both wearing their helmets now and their heads snapped towards you when your chain scraped across the floor painfully. The broader one, who seemed to be leading the team of two, stalked towards you slowly.
"No, no, no, no!" You kicked at him as he went for your ankles trying, and failing, to fight him off. The breath spilling from your lungs was panicked as you failed to notice the other guy groaning and sticking his arms out to tell you to be quiet.
Your name came through the Trooper helmet in a familiar, reassuring voice. It was Din. Your Mandalorian. You'd never felt such a sense of relief race through your body as you relaxed underneath his touch.
"Mando?" You avoided using his real name around other people, as you'd agreed when he first told you. It was a small price for such a wonderful gift. His name. "You're here. You came for me?"
"Yes." He fumbled with your restraints, managing to get the ones off your ankles and moving to the ones on your wrists.
You looked at the other guy who had slipped his helmet off at some point. The bald guy. "Hang on. I saw you earlier. You walked through here with that guy in charge and-" Your eyes snapped back to Din. "That was you."
He was looking at you through the helmet, you could tell. "Come on, we don't have much time."
"B-but... you... your face." Your voice was weak, mind scrambling back to the memory of him. Brown eyes. Sad eyes. Messy hair. Unkempt facial hair. Strong nose. Golden skin. Beautiful.
He faltered. "I know. I did what had to be done."
"You broke your creed." You were almost crying. "To save me."
Hesitation. "Yes, of course. Come on."
The shackles finally fell from your wrists and you launched yourself at him, embracing him even if you were in a life or death situation.
"Thank you."
He seemed uncertain at the gesture as his arms slowly wrapped around your waist. "You don't have to thank me."
You pulled away quickly, not wanting to push it and make him uncomfortable. "Yes, I do." Looking back at the bald guy as you stood up, you squinted at him. "You're familiar."
"Mayfeld." He had a smirk on his face as he watched the interaction between you and Din, sticking out his hand in greeting but you ignored it. "You're welcome for this, by the way. I'm the main reason we're here right now saving you."
His name reminded you of who he was, a scowl settling over your face. "I appreciate it. But we're not out yet. They have people guarding everywhere. And I mean everywhere."
"It won't be a problem." Din's voice was low as he straightened up.
"How do you know so much about this place, hm?" Mayfeld asked you, stepping slightly closer.
"I may have attempted an escape... once or twice." You shrugged and kicked your restraints away from your feet. "That's why I was chained to the wall."
The two men were silent as they stared at you, Mayfeld looking surprised and Din's gaze burning into you despite being obscured by the helmet.
"I know their rotation schedules, how long of a gap there is between shift changes and which Troopers like me best so will leave the handcuffs a little looser." You looked between the two of them. "What? I had time to plan."
"And what have we got now?" Din questioned, glancing back at the open bars. "Anything scheduled to happen?"
You thought it over for a moment, glancing at the clock just outside of your cell. "Shift change in about six minutes. There will be a thirty-three second gap where the doors are unmanned."
"We can work with that." The Mandalorian replied, producing a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.
A sick feeling settled in your stomach at the sight of them. "Ah, so I'm fake prisoner. Right?"
"In case we come across anyone." Mayfeld explained, a smug grin on his face. "Need to make it believable that we're moving you to a new cell."
With a nod, you looked back up to Din. "Be gentle, okay?"
"Of course, cyar'ika."
You sighed, storing away the nickname to ask about it later. "Where's Grogu?"
His fists clenched by his sides, the leather of his gloves squeaking. "They still have him."
Bile rose in your throat. "What?"
Why was he here if the child was still missing?
"Maker, why are you here?" You asked him, pushing at his shoulder. "You need to save him!"
"I'm here to save you." He was already bored with you again, you could tell by the lack of emotion in his voice. Maybe he was regretting saving you.
"I could have waited! Grogu's a baby!" You cried, worry settling in your stomach at the thought of your poor, poor Grogu possibly being tortured and experimented on whilst you were swooning over Din rescuing you.
"They had information on the kid's location here as well." The Mandalorian offered.
That made more sense. "Ah, so it wasn't just to save me."
"I would've come for you even if they had nothing on him." He sounded annoyed now, frustrated at your questioning.
"Grogu's priority." You turned to Mayfeld. "Why did you let him come here when the child is still missing?"
His hands raised in surrender. "Hey! Don't turn this on me!"
"Be more grateful." Din stated as he walked towards you and turned you around, pulling your hands behind your back to secure them in place with the cuffs. "I could have left you here forever."
You didn't want to admit out loud that what he had just suggested was your worst fear and something you truly believed until he'd showed up. A part of you thought you'd be there for the rest of your life. But you couldn't tell him that. So you offered a weak joke.
"You know what they say... third time's the charm. I'm sure my next attempt at an escape would have worked." The cuffs clicked into place and you tried not to focus on the feeling of being restrained again. You'd spent too long like this, and here you were about to escape and you were back in the same position. It was almost funny.
Din could sense your unease and placed a gloved hand on the small of your back in reassurance.
"Let's go." Mayfeld chimed and marched out of the cell in front of the two of you.
You swallowed the lump in your throat and followed behind, Din's hands locked around yours to make sure the restraints didn't pull too harshly. Weaving in and out of corridors was dangerous, especially with the guards constantly patrolling. Unfortunately, it didn't take long before you bumped into a couple of them.
"Halt!" They shouted, raising their weapons to the three of you. "What are you doing with prisoner five six one?"
There was probably too long of a pause between the question and the answer that was finally given, setting off the initial seed of suspicion.
Mayfeld stepped in with his sly smile. "We were instructed to move the prisoner to a new cell."
The two guards bowed their heads together, mumbling a quick debate. Your hands twitched with nerves behind your back and you felt the Mandalorian trace a thumb over them in comfort. It somewhat worked.
"We'll need you to come with us to confirm." One of them said, straightening up and re-aiming his blaster right at you.
"I'm sorry, cyar'ika." Din grumbled with a sigh behind you before there was a slight squeeze on the side of your neck and you were out.
When you awoke you were surrounded by the sounds of a humming engine and the whirring of the inside of a ship. You jolted up and almost hit your head on the top of the bunk you'd been placed in.
Wait. A bunk?
You looked around you rapidly to suddenly realise that you weren’t just in any bed. You were in Din’s bed. On the Razor Crest.
You jumped out of it and stumbled once you landed on your feet, leaning on the wall for support.
“Woah, woah! Slow down, take it easy.” A modulated voice appeared behind you as strong arms wrapped around your torso to keep you steady.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You slurred, still slightly groggy from being unconscious. “How long was I out?”
“A few hours.” Din replied, letting you turn to look at him. He was back in his Beskar armour, looking as shiny as ever. The sight of him made you smile.
“You knocked me out!” You cried but there wasn’t an ounce of real anguish in your voice. In fact, it was rather playful.
He didn’t seem to pick up on that. “It was necessary.”
You waved your hand at him, showing you weren’t really bothered by that. So you approached the subject you were really affected by. “You saved me.”
“Yes.” His voice was a gentle rasp as he spoke the singular word. He was never much of a talker. But you hung on to every word.
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?”
“You removed your helmet to save me.” You frowned at him, like you were annoyed at him for breaking his creed.
Another rasp. “Yes.”
“But-“
“But what?”
You laughed like it was obvious. "I don't understand why. I'm just me."
"And it's just a creed."
Your head reared back. "Just a creed?"
"Just you?" He answered back, imitating your tone and inflection.
"That's- Din, it's your life. Being a Mandalorian is everything to you.” You cried, hands waving in emphasis. “Why would you risk that? For me?"
His head tilted to the side in his usual expression of emotion. Or lack of. "This is the Way."
"No.” You snapped. “The Way is not showing your face under any circumstances. And you- you showed your face!"
"To save you."
"Yes!"
The helmet tilted even further. "What part do you not understand?"
"I'm not worth it." You said, hands wringing together in front of you. And you truly believed what you were saying.
"What?"
"Why would you do that for me?"
"I'd do anything for you."
Your mouth snapped shut, the protest you had prepared dying in your throat.
"You and the kid. I'd tear apart this galaxy for the both of you. You're... you're part of my clan."
A part of you wished he'd left you in that prison. If he'd done that then your head wouldn't be spinning and you wouldn't be overwhelmed with emotions at what he was throwing at you in that moment. His clan. You were a member of his clan.
"Din..."
His name was soft from your lips and he sighed slowly at the sound.
"The only way to explain is-" He cut himself off and inhaled, taking a step closer to you. Placing his hand under your chin, he tilted your head up to face him and lowered his helmet so your foreheads rested together. The cold of his armour sent shivers down your spine. Although it might have also been caused by the action of what he was doing, what he was saying.
Din had explained this to you before when you'd asked about affection between the people of Mandalore. It was a way for Mandalorians to kiss without having to show their faces. It was... intimate, to say the least.
Your eyes fluttered shut when the reality of what he was telling you dawned. "Din..."
Another soft whisper of his name had him sighing again.
Unfortunately, he took it the wrong way and pulled back. "You don't have to- The kid and you are important to me. That's... that's what you need to know. About why- why I did this."
You shook your head and smiled at him, hooking your hand around the back of his neck and tugging him down towards you again so your foreheads touched. "And I was willing to die in that prison to keep you and the child safe."
"They... they were planning to kill you?"
"I kept refusing to teach them how to get the kid to use his wizard baby powers. And I wouldn't tell them where you were either. Or how to contact you."
"What did they need me for?"
"See you as a threat. Or to use me as bait. I'm not sure which. Maybe both."
"It would've worked. You as bait. If I didn't already know where you were, of course."
"Of course." You grinned at him and hoped he was smiling back. You tended to guess what his facial expressions were, normally hoping that he was returning whatever you gave him but usually settling on the fact that he was probably bored and his face would show it. "I missed you."
"I missed you too, cyar'ika."
Your stomach flipped at the Mando'a. "What does that mean?"
"It's Mando'a."
"I guessed that. I'm asking for a translation." You rolled your eyes, finally pulling back from the Mandalorian kiss to look at him properly again. "I hope it's something nice."
You could tell he was smiling when he said his next words. They were hesitant, but tender. "It means darling or sweetheart. A term of endearment."
"Oh... that's- that is nice." Mentally berating yourself, you bit on your lower lip to hold back an excited giggle. Nice? There were so many words that were better than nice. "I don't have anything like that where I'm from. If I did I'd-"
He cut you off with a hand cupping your cheek. "I know, cyar'ika. I know."
There was a moment of silence as the two of you just looked at each other. It was broken when Din sighed suddenly and dropped his hand from your cheek.
"I never wanted you to see my face that way."
Oh.
"Din, I-" You cut yourself off to contemplate your words. "I'm sorry that you had to reveal your face. And that I saw. If I'd known... I wouldn't have stared at you."
"No, I didn't mean it like that." He exhaled loudly. "Do you remember? What I look like?"
The memory of his face flashed in your mind. Of course you remembered. Every single detail. And you'd probably secretly treasure it for the rest of your life.
"Yes..."
His head dropped for a second, helmet aimed at the floor, before it suddenly shot back up to meet your gaze. "And?"
"And what?" Having no idea what he was asking of you, your brows scrunched together.
He was so close now that you were sure you'd be able to hear his breathing even without the modulator. "Was I- was I a disappointment?"
"What?" Disbelief ran through you. How could this wonderful, gorgeous man ever be a disappointment? With or without the helmet obscuring his face he had always been and would always be perfect to you.
"Well, you must have had some... some image of what I'd look like in your head."
You immediately disagreed with him. "No, never."
"Don't lie. It's okay. You can tell me."
"I'm not lying. And I am telling you."
"Cyar'ika..."
Your heart did somersaults in your chest. "No, I never conjured up some fantasy of what you'd look like. Because this here-" You gestured at the whole of him, hand waving up and down his body. "-is my Din. This is you to me. Why would I ever warp who you truly are for some made up version?"
"You must've been curious."
You shrugged. "Maybe at the beginning. But who you are on the inside is all that has ever mattered to me."
"So what did you think when you saw my face?"
Your eyes snapped away from his on instinct, embarrassment crawling through you as you recalled your immediate thoughts of him. Thoughts you'd pushed away at the time because you thought he was a Trooper. Thoughts that had resurfaced when you found out that it was really him.
"Oh, no thoughts." Your voice was weak, barely coming out as more than a squeak. It was clear you were lying. "Just that you were a man..."
"Cyar'ika..."
A flush racked through you at the use of the term of endearment. He knew how to make you weak in the knees, how to make you break, you were sure of it.
"Calling me that isn't fair."
"Don't avoid the question." His head tilted to the side. "Tell me. What did you think?"
Unsure at how he'd turned from insecure, sweet Din to a version of Din that had you swooning, you shook your head at him. "I told you. No thoughts."
"And I can tell you're lying. Look at me." He placed his fingers under your chin to angle you to face him. "Tell me."
You started with a small truth. "Your eyes were sadder than I thought they'd be."
He seemed slightly taken aback by that but didn't hesitate too much in answering. "I was scared I'd lost you."
"But I thought you said you didn't know they were planning on killing me?"
"It was always a possibility." He shrugged. "We were getting towards the end of the cells when I saw you. I was... getting nervous. Thought maybe they'd transferred you somewhere else and I'd never find you. Couldn't live with that idea."
If it were possible, you softened even more under his touch. "But you did find me. And I'm here. Safe. Because of you."
"Hmm." He just hummed in agreement, shifting his hand so it moved to cup your jaw instead. "What else?"
You huffed, hoping you'd got out of the line of questioning about your opinions on his appearance. Whilst having openly admitted a whole spout of feelings for each other, you weren't quite ready to declare how absolutely breathtaking he was.
"Don't make me say it."
"Say what, cyar'ika? Hm? I'm just asking."
You leaned into his touch, the warmth from his palm along with the sound of the Mando'a pet name set off a spark within you. When his gloved thumb swooped over your cheek gently you were sure that your brain short circuited.
"You're beautiful, Din."
The statement was breathless but held certainty in it. The Mandalorian didn't reply, too shocked by your confession. He honestly hadn't been expecting you to be so open. And to say that of all things.
So you kept going. "It was never going to matter to me what you looked like underneath the Beskar. Because who you are as a person is the only important thing. But I have to admit that I thought you were gorgeous when you walked past my cell. And then I immediately felt guilty because I thought you were a Trooper." Your head dipped in shame for a moment. "You are beautiful, Din Djarin. Inside and out."
He still said nothing, hands just lifting to the bottom of his helmet.
When you heard the hiss of the seal, your hands slapped across your eyes. "Ah! What are you doing?"
"Taking off my helmet. What are you doing?" He sounded amused.
"Covering my eyes so I don't see obviously." You scoffed and scrunched your eyes beneath your palms.
"Cyar'ika, you've already seen my face."
"So? I might have remembered details wrong."
"Thought you said I was beautiful?"
You huffed, not liking how he was turning that against you. "I did but revealing your identity is a big no-no, Din! That's what the Way says, right?"
"Right." He was holding back laughter.
"Exactly! Doesn't matter if I've seen you before. Might not remember you completely correctly." You remembered him completely correctly. "So we cannot risk you revealing yourself a whole other time."
The way you were so respectful of his creed, no matter how ridiculous you were being at that moment with your hands pressed tightly over your eyes, had Din tingling inside.
"I don't think it's a risk if you've seen me before and you're a part of my clan, hm?"
You grumbled something underneath your breath. "I can't argue with you on Mandalorian culture because you're the expert. But I feel as if you're finding loopholes here."
"Perhaps. Just look."
The sound of his helmet hissing and the dull clang of it hitting the floor had you hesitating before slowly peeling your hands away from your face.
He was exactly how you remembered.
Every line, every scar, every eyelash, every inch of skin, the deep brown of his eyes, the angle of his nose, the unruly tufts of curls atop his head and the uneven patches of facial hair peppered across his jaw and down his neck. This was your Din Djarin. Stood in front of you, everything exposed and exactly how you remembered him. Exactly how you wanted him. Perfect. The whole of him was perfect.
With a stifled sigh of relief, you reached out your hands to cup his face, hesitating for a moment when you realised he might hate that. "Can I?"
He nodded, his eyes looking sad yet hopeful - an improvement from the last time you saw them.
Your palms settled on his cheeks, thumbs swiping over his cheeks and across his bristly stubble. A smile broke across your face when his eyelids closed and he leaned in your touch.
"Oh, Din..." Tears sprang to your eyes yet you couldn't exactly explain why, the flood of emotions was overwhelming.
"Cyar'ika..." He breathed against the skin of your wrist, turning slightly in your grasp to plant his lips against your palm.
You took a step closer to him, encouraging him to duck down and rest his forehead against yours. A Mandalorian kiss, stripped of the barrier between the two of you. He let out a shaky sigh as you made contact, his hair tickling your brow.
"When was the last time someone touched you? Skin on skin?" You needed to know, he was acting like he'd never felt the warmth of physical contact before.
He hummed lowly in his chest as he thought about it, eyes shut tight in contemplation. "My parents, I think."
Your heart ached for him. It had been decades. You wanted more, to give him more, but worried that it might be too much too fast. But you yearned to touch him, to show him how good it could be.
Broken out of your thoughts by a rustling noise between the two of you, you glanced down without breaking away from him to see that he was removing his leather gloves and throwing them to the floor beside you.
You stared at his hands, scars littering both the palms and the backs. You'd never wanted someone to touch you with their hands more.
Din appeared to have the same thought as he hovered them over your sides, fists clenching open and closed. "Can I?"
"Can you what, hm?" You wanted- no needed him to say it, to be as clear as possible between you.
"Touch you. Can I touch you please?" His eyes were still closed but you could see he was restless behind his lids, almost worried even.
"Of course you can."
You expected him to just place his hands on your hips or waist, which he did technically. What you didn't expect was for him to slide his hands underneath the hem of your shirt and place them directly onto your skin, squeezing slightly when he made contact.
You hummed contently in acknowledgement to tell him that it was okay and stepped closer to him, your chest pressing up against the Beskar now.
“Can I kiss you?” The question was sudden, hushed, almost unsure.
You didn’t hesitate in tilting your head upwards and reassuring him of how much you wanted exactly that. “I’m so glad you asked.”
Then his lips were on yours, a relieved sigh exiting him and a content one leaving you.
You moved together in time, like you knew how the other worked and what they wanted. And maybe you did. Maybe you knew each so well, or knew that the other wanted the same thing you did. Din’s thumbs stroked gently at the skin of your waist and yours swiped over his cheeks, brushing away a stray tear that had fallen from his eyes. His sad, brown eyes. You hoped they’d be less sad in the future.
He broke away for a moment to mumble against your lips. "I was so scared I'd lost you."
You shook your head and kissed him again. "I thought I'd never see you again."
“I wouldn’t have left you there.” He promised, hands gripping you impossibly tighter. “There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t have done to get you back.”
You just nodded at him, believing every word he was saying, and pulled him closer to kiss you again. The way his lips melded against yours and the way your tongues curled together had you convinced that this was meant to be. It was so utterly perfect that it felt as if the stars had written it centuries ago, always destined to happen.
“Cyar’ika…” He hummed to you when you both broke away again for some air.
As much as you wanted this moment to last forever, a thought suddenly re-entered your mind. “Grogu!”
“It’s okay. We know where he is and we’re on our way to get him back.” He smiled at your concern for the child, understanding it completely. He felt the same after all.
You nodded gently, relieved that the child would be back and safe soon enough. Then things really would be back to how they should be again. The three of you - you, your Mandalorian and your green child. Perfect.
A/N: this has been under works for agessss… hope you enjoyed!
#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin#din djarin my beloved#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian#mando x reader#mando x you#mando#the mandalorian fanfiction#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin fluff#mando fanfiction#the mandalorian fluff#mando fluff#pedro pascal#ej’s writing#deakyjoe’s writing#ej’s fics#deakyjoe’s fics
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Fade Into You (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)
A/N: Hey guys!!! (This my third reupload. My tags aren’t working. I’m so sorry....this must be super annoying. This is more of a test, and it’ll be the last time I reupload lol. If the fic doesn’t show up in tags, it doesn’t show up. I’m just trying to fix it). Here is that sex pollen fic I said I’d write. I only proofread once…so I’m sorry if this is sloppy. It’s inspired by “Fade Into You” by Mazzy Star. Anyway, enjoy!
Summary: You’re injected with something mysterious while hunting down a bounty…and Din takes care of it.
Warnings: THIS IS SUPER SMUTTY OML. 18+ Sex Pollen, dubcon bc of that, but there really is no questionable consent here…they both clearly give it. Oral/fingering (f!receiving), PIV-unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), canon typical violence, friends to lovers, greyjedi!reader, cursing, probably a good deal of grammatical errors, Crest still exists, and I sorta ignore Grogu at the end…yeah that’s it.
Word Count: 3,177
“When are we going to kriffing stop?” You ask, taking another step, the leaves that flood the forest floor crushing under your feet.
Din scoffs under his helmet. “Not until we find the bounty.” You groan audibly at his answer. You had been walking for what felt like hours, no, centuries. “You know it’s only been thirty minutes, right?” There’s a smirk in his voice. You silently wish you could see it spreading across his lips. You bet he smiles with his eyes, that his entire face glows when he makes his sarcastic quips at you.
You can’t help but smile at him as you shake your head. “It’s definitely been longer than thirty minutes.” You stop in your tracks, hands on your hips, head tilting to the side. He stops a few seconds after you, immediately imitating your stance.
“Aren’t you a Jedi?” He questions sardonically, but you can’t take him seriously standing like that, standing like you. The smile on your face widens. He’s almost playful. He had been more relaxed with you lately, especially since you had started training Grogu.
You tilt your head to the other side for added effect as your foot taps impatiently against the ground. “You know I’m no Jedi.” You drop the act, taking a few steps until you meet Din’s side. While you weren’t a Jedi, given that you disagreed with most of their teachings despite being taught by one, you did consider yourself to be somewhere in the middle, balanced. You only hoped you could give Grogu an ounce of balance. It was something that took years of training to develop, to understand.
Din’s hands fall from his hips, wavering at his side. You want to grab his hands, to hold them in your own, but you fight the urge. “I know…” He trails off. Something feels different about his voice, softer. His head moves ever-so-slightly, nodding to the gurgling green thing asleep in his floating crib. “But you’re strong.” It’s genuine. “You’re more than enough for him.” And far more than enough for me, He thinks to himself.
You tentatively extend your hand out, your fingertips brushing Din’s wrist softly before clasping around it. You can hear what he’s getting at in between the lines. You smile, furrowing your brows incredulously. “I’m the lucky one,” You whisper, lightly squeezing his wrist.
I want to hold the hand inside you
I want to take the breath that's true
You struggle to let go, wanting nothing else but to hold onto him forever. “I don’t know where I’d be without you,” You suddenly confess. You’re not sure where the words come from. “And the kid, too,” You amend, trying to fight the way your heart beats out of your chest.
Din’s visor doesn’t break away from your direction. You stare towards the ground, hoping to avoid his gaze, but you know it’s still on you. This was always how it happened, the stolen glances, the witty quips, the whispered confessions. They were always in passing, ready to be taken back with a generalization or the mention of the kid or some other mask or disguise.
But you and Din were dancing dangerously close to that edge. One step too far and you’d fall. As if you hadn’t fallen already.
You and Din remain frozen for a few seconds, turning away from each other to scan the forest to break the tension of the moment. But something feels off. You’re not alone. You can feel someone else, someone you can’t see, someone watching you and Din. And then, there’s a crunch – but your feet are rooted to the ground, and Din hasn’t moved either.
Another. Crunch.
“Din,” You whisper, holding your palm up, signaling him to pay attention. “We’re not alone.”
And then, as if on command, what feels like a claw wraps around your waist, dragging you away. Everything is moving far faster than you can comprehend. You fumble with your utility belt, securing your lightsaber in your hand and igniting it.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Your captor’s voice rings out against your ear as he knocks the saber out of your hand. You’ve never felt more helpless, more defeated than you do in this moment.
Suddenly a blaster shot rings out, and you shut your eyes tightly, the sound echoing throughout the forest. Your captor freezes, and you stare up at him. He’s your bounty.
And he looks terrified.
“Drop the girl.” Din’s modulated voice breaks the silence. He’s standing just a few feet away, his blaster facing you and the bounty. The bounty presses something sharp into your back in response.
“One more step and I’ll inject this in her.” His voice shakes as he slightly removes the sharp object from your back so that Din can see the needle in his hand. He shoves it back against you the second Din eases up on his blaster. “I don’t even know what this one does. Just picked it out of my bag. Could be bacta, could kill her.”
“Let her go. Now.” You had never heard Din so palpably angry. There’s an urgency in his voice, a growl. “Or you’re going to regret it. I gave you a warning shot. You know what comes next.”
“Yeah, I do.” The needle stabs into your back, and you can hear the bounty squeeze the plunger of the needle to its end. You squirm, hissing as the serum flows into your bloodstream.
BANG. Your ears ring painfully, and you fall to the ground. You don’t realize Din picked you up and started running back towards the ship until you see Grogu’s crib floating alongside you, now safely closed. The bounty disappears in the distance, dead on the ground. He killed for you.
“Din?” Your voice wavers. Everything feels hazy, warm, fuzzy. You have no idea what the bounty injected you with. Nonetheless, you don’t want to be a burden. You’re slowing Din down. The bounty might not be alone, there could be someone following behind. “Put me down.” Your voice is stronger now. You’re starting to regain a bit of strength.
“No, mesh’la, I’ve got you,” He reassures, but he’s not quite convincing. “Just stay with me, okay?” There’s an overwhelming panic in his voice. You haven’t seen him like this since Grogu was kidnapped.
“I’m fine,” You mutter, but Din doesn’t react. If anything, he tightens his grip on you. “Really Din, I think I’m okay. Why are you worrying so much?”
Again, he keeps you pressed tightly against his chest. “I care about you, kid.” He’s almost curt as his modulated voice slips out from under his helmet. He cares. You always assumed he did, but he’s never said those words. They cling to you, replaying on an endless loop in your mind. You want to hear him say them again.
You decide to give in, wrapping your arms around his neck. It feels nice, the way he’s holding you, his cold beskar pricking at the small spots of exposed skin around your stomach. Maybe a little too nice. You can feel yourself getting warmer, everywhere. Maybe you aren’t okay. Whatever the bounty injected into you, you know it’s starting to take hold.
There’s an all too familiar knot building in your stomach, a dull ache between your legs. “No kriffing way…” You trail off, beads of sweat starting to break out along your forehead. You squeeze your thighs together, searching for some sort of friction as the feeling worsens. It was getting sickening.
You were dosed with an aphrodisiac.
“What is it, cyare?” Cyare. You don’t know what it means, but the pet name, the way his honeyed voice reverberates in his vocoder, sounds so good. You want to feel the mouth that made those sounds against your own.
You swallow harshly, trying to calm yourself down and hold yourself back. But you can’t. “F-fuck,” You stutter, heat rippling through your body, the sensation practically tearing you in half. Your core is pulsing, aching for Din. You needed to get to your bunk, now. The Crest was just up ahead, it wouldn’t be much longer. You can hold on for a few more minutes. That’s all it’ll take.
“Tell me what you need, cyar’ika, anything.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying, what he’s doing to you. But he means it. He’d truly do anything for you.
Your breath hitches in your throat at the thought. Anything. “D-don’t talk like that,” You practically moan as you tremble in his arms. “T-this isn’t something you can help me with.”
But Maker, you wish he could.
“What do you mean?” He asks. There’s something more than concern in his voice; it’s fear, the fear that maybe you won’t make it. “You gotta tell me what you’re feeling. You can’t be stubborn this time. You have to talk to me.” There’s a forcefulness behind his words, a certain confidence and command that makes you clench around nothing. He was right, this was getting worse. You can’t handle this on your own.
“I-it’s…” You’re a blabbering, stuttering mess, putty in his arms. “I think it’s some kind of aphrodisiac…” It’s only getting worse, building up in your stomach. You’re so intensely hot that you can’t even feel the wind against your skin. It was painful, unbelievably agonizing. You needed Din, needed to feel him inside of you, against you, anything, something.
Din stops in his tracks, the ramp of the Crest falling down in front of you. “Oh.” He’s shocked for just a moment before brushing it off and practically running up the ramp.
“D-Din I feel like I’m dying,” You whimper, your thighs squeezing together as tightly as humanly possible. “P-please,” You beg. “Please just touch me. C-can’t d-do it myself, ‘need to feel you.”
“Fuck,” Din grunts, stepping into the hull. “You don’t mean that. It’s the drug. You don’t want me like that, cyare.” But he wishes to himself that you did.
You shake your head. How could he possibly be so wrong? Did he not realize how much you wanted him? “N-no…wanted you this whole time,” You mutter, not caring about the consequences of your words this time around. You know exactly what you’re saying, what every word means. “I’ve wanted you since the second I met you.”
And that’s all it takes.
Without skipping a beat, Din turns off the lights in the hull. He grabs at your waist, twisting you so that your legs wrap around his hips. You can feel his erection pulsing against your heat. You roll your hips against him, moaning at the friction alone. He backs you into the wall, undoing his belt, lower pieces of armor, and pants before pulling down your leggings and panties with one quick swipe.
Suddenly, his breath fans against your ear, sending a chill down your spine. You’re so lost in the way his skin feels against yours that you must’ve missed the hiss of his helmet as he took it off. “Are you sure you want this? I can stop-,”
“No, please don’t stop Din,” You shamelessly groan, grinding against him. “Need to feel you inside me.” Your words are practically unintelligible, but Din knows what you’re trying to say. He knows what you need.
His fingers trace your hips, gliding over every inch of your body before finding their way down toward your cunt. He plunges into your folds, spreading your slick. You’re limp against him, your head falling back against the wall behind you. “So fucking wet for me, look at you.” His words alone could destroy you.
You roll your hips against his hand, hungry for more, whispering his name as his fingertips finally reach your clit. “Feels s’good,” You moan. He draws rapid circles around where you need him most, but it’s not enough. You needed all of him. “F-fuck me, Din,” You whine shamelessly.
“Relax for me, sweet girl,” He soothes, his lips pressing a chaste kiss against your searingly hot cheeks, his fingertips rubbing rough strokes against your swollen heat. You’re already so close, but you know this isn’t over yet.
“Din, ‘need your-,”
The feeling of his cock spreading you open cuts you off. “S-shit,” Din stutters, bottoming out, filling you up. “So tight, so perfect.” He gives you a minute to adjust to the sheer size of him. You love the way he feels inside you, the way he’s splitting you open. You grind against him, and he immediately takes that as his sign to pull out and shove back into you. His thrusts become faster, deeper, his cock hitting exactly where you need him with every pump.
His fingers find your clit again, circling around the pulsing nerves deliciously. Nothing has ever felt this good, the way he touches you, the way he molds against you like things were always meant to be this way. You’re fully convinced it’s not the drug. You know it would’ve always felt like this…because it’s him.
He pumps in and out of you, hungrily, his lips crashing down against yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, begging for permission to explore every inch of you. You part your mouth, happy to let him do whatever he wants.
“Being such a good girl,” Din mumbles, his warm, honeyed words echoing against the cold, metal walls of the ship. “Taking me so well. Feels so good.” You could listen to him for hours.
You can feel yourself nearing the edge. You’re shocked you’ve lasted this long in the first place, with his fingers toying at your clit, his cock pounding into you, the feeling of his skin brushing against yours in places you never thought you’d get to feel him. It’s inexplicable, and you want every moment of it engraved in your brain. You want more of this, for this to never end.
“D-Din,” His name hangs in the air as it slips off your lips. He loves the way it sounds, the way you sound, crumbling around him, falling apart for him. “I’m g-gonna-,” You hiccup, unable to finish.
“Wanna feel you come, pretty girl,” He whispers. “Let go for me.” Your walls flutter around him, tightening. “Yeah, just like that.” You can feel the tension snap, searing-hot whiteness flooding your vision as you come undone around him.
Din isn’t far behind, his hips rutting into you, his cock twitching deep inside as he finishes. He rubs your clit gently, rocking his hips against yours a few times before pulling out. You feel empty once he’s gone.
Your core is still pulsing. You needed more of him. It wasn’t enough.
“Wanna taste you,” Din whispers.
You don’t even have to ask. It wasn’t enough for him, either.
“Please,” You whine.
He sinks down to his knees, grabs onto your legs, pulling you down with him until your bare ass falls against the metal floor. He presses a chaste kiss against your lips before sinking down even farther. His hands grasp your calves, pulling you closer to him. You can feel his hot breath fan against your core. His tongue darts out, swiping against your inner thigh. You gasp softly at the sensation.
Din drags his tongue across your thigh and up to where you need him most. You moan as his tongue finally flicks your clit. It’s deplorable, lascivious, animalistic, but you don’t care. All you care about is him, the way he feels, what he’s doing to you.
“Tastes so fucking good.” His voice vibrates against your cunt, the feeling only adding to your overstimulation. Din brings his fingertips up, sliding against your folds, teasing at your entrance before plunging deep inside. “All this for me. All mine.”
Fuck he sounds so good. You’re already so close. “Din, I’m…” You trail off, unable to muster out another coherent thought. He speeds up, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, his lips latching onto your clit, sucking roughly.
“That’s it, come for me again, sweet girl.” It’s a command this time, and your body involuntarily follows. Your cunt clenches around his fingers needily, stars blurring your vision as your head falls back onto the wall. You choke out his name, your chest heaving, your heart beating uncontrollably.
You should’ve told him how you felt ages ago.
You expect Din to stop, but he doesn’t. He continues to lap at you as if he’s starving.
“Din,” You whisper, your hands combing through his curls.
“Not done with you yet, perfect girl.” Kriffing hell.
You’re not sure how long you lie there, his head between your thighs, his tongue flicking against your core, his fingers pumping in and out of you. You’re not sure how many times you’ve come, but Maker does he feel good.
Eventually, his fingers pull out of you, and his lips meet yours again.
“So fucking beautiful.” He’s so gentle, so vulnerable like this. “Wanted you for so long, mesh’la.” He takes you in his arms, lifting you up as he stands. You’re not quite sure where he’s taking you – given that all the lights are off – but you don’t care. As long as he’s there with you, you’d go anywhere in the galaxy.
He sets you down against a mattress. His bunk. He gets in after you, wrapping a soft blanket around your body. His arms pull you into his bare chest, and you nestle further into him. You’re not sure when he took his armor off, or where his shirt went in all the mess, but his skin feels so good against yours.
“Din?” You call out in the darkness, your voice muffled a bit by his chest.
“Yeah, cyare?” He answers. His fingertips trace circles against your back. You shudder under his touch.
You take a deep breath. Now probably wasn’t the time to talk things out, but you wanted to, needed to. “That wasn’t just sex…to me.” You struggle to get the words out. You know you’re ruining the moment, probably eating away at whatever feelings Din has for you. But there’s so much you need to say. “I-I love you, Din.” The confession almost slips out on its own. You know it’s true, you’ve known for a very long time, but you’re not entirely sure where it came from. It was one of those uncontrollable things that happen because they’re meant to, because the universe gives no choices, no options.
He presses a kiss against your forehead. “I love you,” He pauses, taking a deep breath, “Loved you for so long, more than you’ll ever know.”
Your heart thumps against your rib cage, threatening to break free, to burst into a million different pieces. But you don’t care. It feels good to love him so shamelessly, and to be loved so shamelessly in return.
You fall asleep, with his arms around you, safely hidden away in his bunk, for the first time.
The first of many, countless, infinite times.
Fade into you
Strange you never knew
Fade into you
I think it's strange you never knew
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tension
You've seen his face countless times, but every time the helmet comes off, it's as though you're seeing him for the first time over and over again.
His expression is more than it's normal stoicism; it's vulnerable, raw. His big brown eyes come into contact with yours as you reach up, your fingers gently brushing through his messy curls.
Din closes his eyes for a brief moment, savoring the contact. "Hi there, handsome," you murmur softly, allowing your fingers to linger on his strands of hair. "You clean up well, don't you?"
massaging din’s sore, aching muscles ... leads to ... yeah. I'M SORRY (not sorry at all) PUT ME IN HORNY JAIL FOR THIS IDC. it started off so innocent but then the horny monster came out and took over.
tags: smut, OILED UP DIN DJARIN, I REPEAT, OILED UP DIN DJARIN. established relationship
Din has no issue praising and worshipping you with nothing but love and adoration. In fact, it feels like second nature to him.
When he's the object of your praises, though, he doesn't know how to act. He's caught off guard by your doting attention, your quiet praises, your gentle touches.
The gruff exterior that comes so naturally to him becomes a bit more pronounced when faced with compliments and affection.
His usual response was to deflect and downplay, wanting to be the one in control, the one doing the praising rather than receiving it. It's not that he didn't appreciate your words; it's just that the vulnerability of accepting them was difficult for him.
In those moments, you read his body language like the back of your hand. You could see the conflict in his eyes, a mixture of gratitude and discomfort. He had been alone for most of his time in this cruel galaxy, had spent so long being self-reliant, not needing validation from others, that being on the receiving end of such genuine affection challenged his identity of being the stoic, impenetrable Mandalorian.
So, when he finally comes back to the Razor Crest after catching an elusive bounty, you know exactly what to do to put him at ease, to show him how much you love him, your riduur.
You catch his hand before he can take any of his armor off.
"Don't. Let me do it," you say gently, tugging his hand away.
He stares at you with that ever stoic expression you know he has on his face right now beneath the helmet. A few beats pass, and he relents, letting his wrist fall limp in your grip.
"Thank you," you whisper quietly, now running your hands up his shoulders.
You start with his baldric and belt, catching it in your grip as you unfasten the clasps. It's surprisingly heavy in your hands, and you're already a bit weary to take off the beskar.
Next, you slip his worn brown cape off his shoulders, the rough material scraping across your fingers. You can still feel traces of warmth around the part that was settled around his neck and shoulders.
Din stands before you, now with his baldric, belt, and cape out of the way, the beskar armor still encases his form. You take a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship of the beskar, tracing the shiny metal with your fingertips. The material is cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the warmth of his body you can barely feel radiating off his form. Din still stands rigid, hands flexing at his side.
His gaze remains steady, a silent acknowledgment of your request. You take charge again, delicately unfastening the clasps of his shoulder pads and removing the plates, and you can feel just how tense even just his shoulders are.
You set them gently to the side and start to work on his chest plate, easing it away from his torso with careful precision. The beskar plates release with a loud clinking sound, revealing the fabric of his flight suit beneath. You can clearly see Din's chest rise and fall with a steadiness that betrays the controlled exterior he presents to the world. With a small grunt, you ease the heavy beskar chestplate to the side, shooting Din a look when he tries to take it from your grasp.
"You said you would let me do it," you whisper, a playful yet stern glint in your eyes.
He sighs through the voice transmitter, yet allows you to continue your process of taking his armor off.
His shoulders sag forward ever so slightly as the weight of the chest plate is removed from his body, grunting with relief as he rolls his shoulders back a few times.
Next, you move on to his vambraces, unlocking the beskar from his arms. As you work on removing the vambraces, the sleeves of his flight suit ride up and you notice the subtle scars and markings on Din's forearms. You're careful to not drop the one loaded with bullets and other small weaponry.
Your hands move with a practiced gentleness, and you can sense Din's quiet appreciation for the care you're taking.
As the small pieces of armor joins the growing collection of beskar beside you, the room is filled with a sense of intimacy, a shared vulnerability palpable between you two.
Din stands before you now, the upper half of his body free from the encasement of armor. The warmth of his skin is more perceptible, and you can see a slight relaxation in his demeanor.
You move lower now, unfastening the straps securing the beskar that adorns his thighs. Your hands brush against his skin, and that's when he starts to shift side to side. You smile to yourself as you set the pieces to the side, letting your hands drag from the back his knees down to his shins to remove the final pieces.
Beskar greaves protect his shins, and you get on your knees to remove them. You don't miss the way his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you on your knees before him, but he refuses to move a muscle.
Carefully, you unfasten the straps securing the beskar greaves, allowing them to slide down his shins. Your hands move with a deliberate gentleness as you catch them, setting them on top of the stack of armor. Now that all of his armor is removed, you can clearly tell Din is now more relaxed, not as rigid.
His head his angled directly at you, the black t-visor of his helmet piercing through you. You smile softly up at him, pushing yourself to standing but not without him grabbing your hand to help you up.
You know what he's thinking. You know what he wants. He'll just never say it.
You press up onto your toes, placing your hands on his shoulders. His hands finally move, coming to rest on your waist as you lean into where you think his ear would be.
"Later," you whisper seductively, and he firmly squeezes your waist in his grip.
You take a step back, now turning your focus back to his leather gloves. Taking his left hand in yours, you spread his fingers out so you're able to slip his glove off his easier. The leather glove comes off smoothly, revealing his calloused yet gentle hand beneath. You set the glove aside, repeating the action on his other hand.
Din watches you with that unyielding gaze, his helmeted face betraying no emotions, and the tension in the air does anything but subside.
As you remove the second glove, you can't help but admire his hands; how large they, how strong they are. They're the tools of a warrior: skilled and precise, calloused and graceful. With his hands now bare, you step closer to him, your fingers tracing the lineaments of his palm. The warmth of his skin contrasts with the coolness of the beskar that once covered him. His hands are strong, yet there's a gentleness in the way he allows you to explore them.
You finally look up to his helmet, clicking your tongue with disapproval. You couldn't really get his shirt off without stretching out the neck over his helmet, and we can't have that, can we? Poor shirt, all stretched out. Oh well! Looks like we have to see your beautiful riduur's face!
You run your hands on the underside of his helmet, tracing the hard edges with the pads of your fingers. Suddenly, you latch onto the edges and slowly start to pull it up and off his head. Din's breath catches as the helmet is lifted, his nose twitching ever so slightly.
The helmet comes clean off, revealing his face, his dark hair tousled from the snug fit. You're met with his intense gaze, and for a moment, your own breath catches in your throat.
You've seen his face countless times, but every time the helmet comes off, it's as though you're seeing him for the first time over and over again.
His expression is more than it's normal stoicism; it's vulnerable, raw. His big brown eyes come into contact with yours as you reach up, your fingers gently brushing through his messy curls. Din closes his eyes for a brief moment, savoring the contact.
"Hi there, handsome," you murmur softly, allowing your fingers to linger on his strands of hair. "You clean up well, don't you?"
His lips twitch in a hint of a smile, eyebrows quirking at your playful comment.
"Are you going to finish, cyar'ika? Or are you going to finish undressing me with just your eyes?"
You roll your eyes at his remark, fighting back a laugh at his nonchalant comment.
"I guess I do have some unfinished business," you reply, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt.
You guide his shirt up and over his head, pulling it off his form and letting it fall to the floor. You're met with his tanned, toned chest, marked with scars, the silent stories of the battles he's fought.
You run your fingers lightly over the contours of his chest, savoring the feeling of his tight muscles and soft stomach. He shivers under your touch at the way your nails drag across his skin, pressing into it ever so slightly. Din watches you closely, his gaze never leaving your hands. With a soft smile, you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his skin between his shoulder and upper chest.
Din's fingers find their way to your hair, but you pull back, now grabbing the waistband of his pants. You tug them down quickly, helping him step out of the pant legs, but leaving him in his loose boxers.
You reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and guide him to the bed. There's no rush, no urgency. For both of you, it's a moment to savor, to appreciate each other in a quiet, peaceful moment. Before he lies down, you pull him down for a chaste kiss, savoring the way his lips taste, the way his patchy mustache tickles your face. As he finally moves to lay down, you wordlessly motion for him to lie on his stomach, and he complies. He settles onto the bed, propping himself up with his forearms.
You retrieve a bottle of oil from a nearby table, and the gentle scent of lavender fills the air as you warm the liquid between your palms. You straddle his lower back, and immediately Din is biting his tongue to withhold any premature sounds.
The moment your hands come into contact with his broad shoulders, he's a goner. Your touch is firm yet tender, your fingers finding all of his knots and tension, coaxing them to release.
The room is quiet, save for the occasional satisfied hum or grunt from Din. As your hands move down his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, you slowly feel the tension in his body dissipating.
Your fingers trace the faint lines of his scars, and you can't help but marvel at the beauty of the man beneath you. He finds solace in your touch, a promise that in this moment, he can let go and just relax.
Din's body responds to your touch, his tension gradually melting away. Your hands move with a soothing rhythm, exploring every inch of his back and shoulders. The oil makes his skin glisten in the soft light of the room, and you revel in the way his body looks as though it was carved by the Maker himself.
As your hands work their way down his spine, you occasionally lean down to press soft kisses on his back. The combination of your mouth and hands on him causes Din to shudder, the sensations pulling him into a deep state of tranquility. The rise and fall of his breath shifts into something more rapid, yet you don't catch on quite yet. You lean down, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of his neck, and he responds with a soft hum of contentment
Shifting off his back, you move down to his thighs and calves, continuing to massage his muscles with the same deliberate care. His fingers twist into the thin sheets of his bed, groaning as you knead into his thighs. The tension in Din's muscles seems to subside even more as you move farther down his legs, the oil dripping from your hands creating a smooth glide as you knead his skin.
As your hands move down his legs towards his feet, you notice the subtle tremor in his muscles, a sign that your touch might be affecting him more than he's letting on. You can't see that he's biting the inside of his cheek, stifling every pathetic groan he wants to let out.
You reach the soles of his feet, and he reflexively curls his toes at the sensation. A small chuckle escapes your lips, and you gently press your thumbs into the arches of his feet, eliciting a low, appreciative groan from him.
With a soft smile, you decide to shift the massage to his upper back and shoulders again, allowing your hands to linger in the areas that are the most tense from his heavy beskar. As your fingers work their magic, you lean in close to whisper in his ear.
"Almost done," you murmur, your warm breath sending shivers down his spine. "Does it feel good?"
Din responds with a throaty, affirmative noise, and you can't help but smile at the effect you're having on your typically stoic Mandalorian.
Your hands trace patterns over his skin, kneading, massaging, and occasionally trailing higher than expected. His breathing becomes more uneven, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body.
The atmosphere in the room drastically changes from innocent and relaxed to something more sultry, the air thick with repressed tension. You can sense Din's arousal, the subtle shifts in his breathing, the way his muscles tense beneath your every little touch. A playful smile crosses your lips, realizing the effect you're having on the usually composed man.
The occasional brush of your fingers against more sensitive areas elicits involuntary reactions from Din, his groans growing more audible.
"Enjoying this, aren't you?" you tease, your voice a sultry whisper as you lean down to place soft kisses along his shoulder blades.
"Teasing me, aren't you?" he growls back, looking back at you with a heated expression.
"Maybe a little." You smile innocently. "But the best things are worth the wait, aren't they?"
Din responds with a low, husky chuckle, a sound that reverberates through the room.
"Yes," he states simply, his voice catching in his throat when you slide off his back.
You beckon him to turn over onto his back, and he complies. Once again, you straddle him, now sitting directly on his hips, over his crotch. Taking more lavender scented oil, you lather it onto your hands and start to knead into his chest. His hands reach up to grip your ass, squeezing your flesh.
You feel Din's chest rise and fall faster as your hands start to work over his toned muscles. The oil slicks up his chest, and your fingers glide smoothly over his skin. You can practically feel his desire for you that simmers beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. Din's gaze is intense, and you meet it with a playful yet innocent smile.
"Fuck, cyare," he groans as his hands trail up your sides, the touch possessive yet gentle.
As your hands continue their ministrations on his chest, you lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss. The taste of his mouth is intoxicating, and Din responds with a hunger that surpasses your own. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you to grind you down over his crotch, and you can feel the pressure of his cock against your core.
"Easy there, Din," you murmur as you pull away from his lips. "We've got plenty of time."
The sound of his name rolling off your lips never gets old to him, and he shudders at the sound.
You sit back, your hands now trailing down his abdomen as you move to sit in between his thighs. Grabbing his hands, you knead into his palms with your thumbs, maintaining an eye contact that you know drives him absolutely crazy. Din's eyes are dark with arousal, and he watches you with a hunger that sends shivers down your spine.
Eventually, you finish the massage after you feel the tension fully dissipate from Din's body. He lies there, relaxed and content, basking in the afterglow of your touch.
Without waiting any longer, you finally give the man what he wants. You bring his hand up to your mouth, and without hesitation, you stick two of his fingers in your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his thick digits as you maintain eye contact with him, eliciting a low growl to escape from the depths of Din's throat.
"You- you fuckin' tease, mesh'la," he growls as he starts to sit up. You take your free hand and push him back down, not letting him sit up.
You push his fingers deeper into your mouth, sucking them harder as your tongue runs over the pads of his fingers. Your other hand comes up to his thigh, resting dangerously close to his now fully erect yet still clothed cock.
After a moment, you release his fingers with a wet pop, a mischievous glint in your eyes. Din's breathing has become more ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly with anticipation and arousal.
"Feeling better?" you ask innocently, sliding your hands up and down his thighs.
Din nods, swallowing thickly as he locks his eyes onto yours. Without breaking eye contact, you start to slide off your shirt, slowly revealing your skin beneath. Din's gaze intensifies as you slowly lift it up and off your form. Once your shirt is fully off, you let Din rove over your form, and you revel in the way he looks at you with a thirst that mirrors your own.
He tries to reach out for you again, but you stop him.
"I'm still not done. Be patient," you say gently, wiggling your eyebrows at him.
"Mesh'la, how can I be? I have to reward you; you've been so good to me, too good for me—"
You press a finger up to his lips, silencing him.
"Please, let me make you feel good. Please. You always take care of me. Let me take care of you. 'M gonna make you feel so good."
He takes a beat, studying your face with his mouth slightly agape.
Finally, he nods in agreement, his eyes on fire. You remove your finger from his lips, giving him a sickeningly sweet smile.
Your hands trail over his shiny, slick chest, down to the waistband of his boxers. Din's fingers twist in his bedsheets, a silent reaction for what he wants: more.
With deliberate intent, you dip your fingers beneath the waistband, teasingly close to his cock. His arousal is quite evident, straining against the fabric, and your fingers brush over his length; a feather light, teasing touch. He watches you with a hunger that's impossible to ignore, and you can't help but feel giddy at the way you make him feel so good, so appreciated, so loved.
Din inhales sharply, his knuckles going white at the grip he has on his sheets. You move your hands back up and delicately hook your fingers into the waistband, pulling it down slowly. The boxers slide down his legs, revealing his cock, and you discard the fabric on the floor.
You take a moment to appreciate your Mandalorian naked in front of you, vulnerable, and yet as powerful as ever in his raw masculinity. What a sight for sore eyes. Every square inch of his skin is coated in the lavender oil, his skin shining under the dim lighting of the Razor Crest. His body is sculpted perfectly, strong and lean, the power of his muscles evident from one look. The scars that span his skin, small and large, have their own story. You reach out, tracing the lines of a particularly prominent scar on the side of his abdomen with gentle fingertips.
Din studies you with a soft intensity, his eyes holding a warmth that he reserves for you, and only for you.
Your eyes trail up to his face, studying every lineament and pore, every little hair and freckle. He's so extremely handsome you could pass out.
How he chose you, you're not sure. All you know is that this man who has promised to be your protector, stay by your side, and be your partner loves you, and you love him.
"You're beautiful," you murmur, pure admiration coursing through your veins as your fingers now trace the curve of his jaw and the contour of his lips. "Absolutely perfect, in every single way. My big, strong, handsome riduur."
Din's mind goes blank, face and ears heating up as his mouth falls agape. He just studies your eyes, your lips, your nose, every little unique feature you have. Swallowing thickly, Din nods his head just a fraction of an inch, but you catch it; he's acknowledging your words, accepting them in his own way.
Your fingers finally find their way down the shaft of his cock, shifting your attention to his member. His breath hitches as your hand wraps around the base, and you begin to move in a slow, teasing rhythm. His eyes flicker to the sight of your hand wrapped around his cock, staring at the way you pump your fist up and down. Your thumb brushes over the sensitive tip, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Din.
You lean in, pressing a tender kiss to the base of his neck, then to his chest. You start to kiss down further, from the top of his chest to his happy trail.
"Kriff..." he mutters, his hands loosely grabbing at your face.
You keep moving, now pressing kisses on the length of his member. His grip becomes sloppier as your lips trail down his cock towards the tip, pressing a feather light kiss on his leaking slit. He grunts as the sensation, sensitive and aching for your pretty lips to be wrapped around his cock. You give a swirl of your tongue around the tip, earning a sharp, deep moan from Din.
"Kriffing- perfect," he groans, his hips bucking a few times at your touch, begging you for more. His fingers weave through your hair, a silent encouragement.
With that, you finally lower your mouth over his cock, eliciting a long, drawn out moan from the man. You rest your hands on the base of his cock, pumping the bottom half of his length while your mouth takes the top half. Din absolutely revels in the way your mouth feels against his cock; hot, wet, and velvety soft. His head rolls back against his pillow as your hands squeeze tight around the base, stimulating every inch of his length. You take him in your mouth inch by inch, sucking his cock gently at first, but providing more pressure the farther down you go.
"Fuck— fuck- ing perfect, pretty girl," he groans breathlessly, making you hum in satisfaction. His hips involuntarily buck up as he feels the vibrations from your hum, causing the tip of his cock to poke the back of your throat. You choke on it, but you steady your breath enough to keep going down.
Din fights the urge to fuck your mouth, gripping onto his sheets tightly with one hand as his other hand tugs at your hair. You release a quiet moan of your own when he pulls your hair, encouraging you to take him deeper.
Din's eyes are half-lidded now, a primal need burning within them. He watches you with an intensity that makes your own desire flare. His sounds of pleasure, the way his hands feel on you has yourself throbbing with need, your core painfully clenching around nothing. Your panties are surely soaked through by now, your arousal having built up just by making him feel good. You press your thighs together, alleviating the throbbing pressure in your pussy.
You continue to move with purpose, lowering your hands to knead his oily thighs as you take his entire length in your mouth, the tip of cock hitting the back of your throat with each bob of your head. You suck your cheeks in, running your tongue along a prominent vein with each stroke.
His ragged breaths and the soft squelch of your saliva and mouth on his cock fill the room, and suddenly, Din is pawing at you. The need for more becomes undeniable, and Din, unable to restrain himself any longer, pulls you up with a sense of urgency.
"Wanna- come in you—" he gasps, pulling at your neck.
You press your thighs tighter together at his admission, moaning on his cock.
"Kriff, cyar'ika, j- just, please," he grunts, and you lift your head off his cock, saliva dripping down your chin.
When you finally look up at him, his eyes are blown wide with need, and he's fully sitting up now. You feel the sudden shift as he drags you onto his lap, his still erect cock pressing into your stomach. You push up onto your knees as Din's hand desperately claws at the hem of your pants, yanking both your pants and panties off at the same time as he mouths the tops of your still covered breasts. Once your bottoms are off, he unclasps your bra expertly, letting it fall to the side.
Once you're bare in front of him, he laps his tongue over your breast, sucking at your nipple as his other hand squeezes and massages your other. The sensation send an electric jolt through your body, and a soft moan escapes your lips. Din's touch is both possessive and tender, his free hand coming to knead the flesh of your ass.
In one solid motion, Din is lifting you up high by your hips, positioning you over his cock. Utterly desperate and aching for your cunt around his cock, he slams your hips down, splitting you open on his cock inside your dripping cunt. Your hands fly up to his shoulders, a warbled scream and moan slipping from the both of you as he plunges deep inside of you, filling you up perfectly. You give yourself a moment to breath, steadying your breath. When he rolls his hips once, you whimper.
"Maker, y- you feel so good," you moan, biting your bottom lip in pleasure.
You squeeze his cock tightly, back arching as you feel every ridge of his cock inside you. His hands squeeze your hips tightly as your hands run down to his chest, and you start placing open mouthed, messy kisses on his jawline and neck. He lets you adjust around him, giving you some time to feel his cock molded perfectly inside you.
"Take me so good...s- so kriffing p- perfect, my beautiful riduur," he growls, fondling your breasts as you sit on his cock. Your thighs press against his as you try to clench your thighs at his words, darting your tongue out to give his skin kitten licks.
Ever so slowly, you start to roll your hips against his, moaning at the sensation. Din hisses, forehead falling on your sternum, his hot breath fanning against your breasts.
"Riduur," he groans again, darting his tongue out over the tops of your breasts again. "Ride me."
Your hands find their way into his dark curls, tugging at them lightly as you start to lift yourself up his cock. The drag of your pussy against Din's cock makes him shudder in pure ecstasy, moving his head to rest in the crook of your neck.
"You- you're the best thing that's e- ever happened to me," you whisper in his ear, then you sink all the way back down on his cock.
He moans, sucking bruises onto the junction between your shoulder and neck. Din's face is flushed from your words and the way you feel on top of him. You lift yourself up a few inches and drop back down, relishing in the way he feels underneath you.
"Never thought I'd find s- someone like you, cyare," he admits in his gravelly voice, tightening his grip on you. "Someone I- I could c- come back to."
"You're m- my home, Din," you reply, your voice a breathy whisper.
You start to set a steady pace, rocking and grinding on his cock. Din grunts at the sudden change in pace, helping you up and off his cock as his broad hands help lift you up and down by your hips. With each bounce, his cock stretches you out deliciously, dragging along your slick walls with ease.
You move your hand down to your catch your clit, circling the bud slowly, building up the pressure bubbling in your core. Your back arches as you start to tease yourself, pussy clenching harder around his cock. Din's head is thrown back in pleasure, hands firmly on your hips as you keep bouncing, reveling in the way you squeeze slightly tighter around him.
Your walls start to flutter around him at the stimulation of your clit, picking up the pace as you chase your orgasm. You lock eyes with his, the rhythm of your hips against his causing him to paw at every square inch of your body.
With your free hand, you guide his strong jaw towards your face, capturing his lips in a searing, passionate kiss. You don't stop moving on top of his cock as you slip your tongue into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on his bottom lip with each kiss. His lips are warm and demanding against yours, responding with a fervor that has you leaning back.
The taste of Din is intoxicating, yet something you can never quite put your finger on. His low growls mix with your soft moans, your hands threading in his curls.
Din breaks the kiss, but rests his forehead on yours. His pants mingle with yours, warm breath tickling your nose.
"Can't believe I'm so lucky," Din grits, and without hesitation, he deftly maneuvers you until you're lying on your back.
You admire the way his chest heaves with a controlled intensity as he hovers over you, his cock still fully sheathed inside you to the hilt. Moving his hands, he presses your legs up against your chest, angling them in such a way to allow for a deeper penetration. The newfound angle sends waves of pleasure coursing through each of you, each movement building up the pressure in your lower muscles.
"Maker, Din," is all you can say as his cock reaches deeper inside you. You're utterly engrossed in everything about him; how perfectly he fucks you, how he protects you, how he always puts others before himself, how he never backs down from a challenge.
You watch as his mouth drops open when he starts to move again, pounding into you with a slow, measured pace. Every motion has your hot, soaking walls sucking him in greedily.
"Fuck me so perfectly, you're perfect," you murmur as Din pulls your legs up onto his hips, effectively spreading you wide open. His whole chest presses flush against yours, kissing your words away when he leans in.
Your hands fly down to grip his forearms that cage you under his body, nails pressing into his skin as he fucks you slowly. Each thrust is met with a soft whimper into Din's mouth as he takes his time, relishing the way your chest feels against his own. The measured pace of his movements builds a heavy tension in your core, drawing out the pleasure and anticipation with each deliberate stroke.
Din's hand finds your clit again, pressing his thick digits against your swollen bud. The added pressure sends electric pulses through your body, and your back arches involuntarily as the pleasure intensifies. Your pussy clenches around his cock, drawing a throaty groan from Din, who revels in the tight embrace of your walls.
"So strong, s- so good," you gasp, your words punctuated by your unrestrained sounds of pleasure.
"S' perfect, cyare," he murmurs against your lips breathlessly, pressing a kiss on your lips once again. He nips and bites at your bottom lip relentlessly. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face closer to you as you mewl into his mouth. Your fingers find their way back into his soft hair, scratching your fingernails on the base of his scalp.
With each enthusiastic response from you, he quickens his pace, the unforgiving rhythm pushing you both closer to the edge.
The feeling of his cock moving inside you faster and harder elicits a cascade of moans and whimpers from your lips, your clit being stimulated nearly to the point of your impending release. He's fucking you hard into the mattress, unrelenting in the way he wants to feel every part of you.
Din, ever the attentive man, knows you're about to cum just from the way your face contorts, from the way your body reacts to the slightest touch.
You can also feel him nearing the edge, the tension in his body reaching its peak with each stroke. His skin is warm and still slick with the lavender-scented oil, intoxicating your senses and making your mind go blank.
"Please, come in me," you beg, wrapping your legs around Din's waist to pull him closer to you. "Please, please, Din."
His skin glides against yours, your hands travel across the expanse of his back, feeling the flex of his muscles as he moves with unrestrained strength.
Din's eyebrows are pinched in pleasure, mouth parted open as he pants. His fingers find the sweet spot of your clit, causing you to nearly scream in pleasure.
"That's it," Din encourages, coaxing your orgasm out of you as he maintains the pressure around your sweet spot.
Before you know it, you're cumming around Din's cock. The first contraction of your cunt around his cock has Din shuddering from his own orgasm, the feelings of your muscles spasming around him pushing him over the edge. His breathing is erratic, hot against your skin.
You writhe underneath Din, whimpering his name as you ride out your orgasm. Din pulls you in for a messy kiss as he cums inside of you, cupping your jaw with one hand as he guides your lips to his in a searing kiss.
Settling down from his orgasm, Din falls on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
Your hands run up and down his back, soothing him with the light scratching of your nails against his skin.
The gentle scratching of your nails against Din's back seems to lull him into a state of relaxation, his body going lax on top of yours. His breath and mustache tickles the sensitive flesh of your neck.
Both of you are still panting, trying to catch your breaths from your shared climax. Din's weight atop of you feels grounding, a comforting, welcoming presence that reminds you once again that he is yours.
"Feel better?" you inquire softly, your hands coming to rest around his neck.
Din lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours with a tenderness he reserves only for you.
Din mumbles in agreement, his body completely pliant in your hands. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, the remnants of his panting gradually subsiding.
"Thank you," he murmurs, eyes studying your face intently. "Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum."
Your fingers move from his neck to gently trace lines over Din's flushed cheeks, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
"I love you."
Din's eyes soften even more. His hands, calloused and strong, come up to gently cradle your face. Thumbs brush over your cheeks in a tender caress, as if he's committing the feeling to memory.
He pulls you in for another kiss, a sweet, tender meeting of your lips in the aftermath of your care for him.
A thank you, if you will.
As Din's lips part from yours, he rests his forehead against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.
You snuggle close to him, the scent of lavender surrounding you both. In the quiet aftermath, the only sound that remains is the beating of your hearts.
. . .
Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) Masterlist
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Rest
Din Djarin x GN!Reader
Summary: Despite how often you have pleaded with Din to stop and rest, your calls have gone unheeded. Your stubborn Mandalorian will not stop and take care of himself.
So, when he arrives back from his latest job with the New Republic utterly exhausted, you take matters into your own hands and ensure he gets the rest he so desperately needs.
Word Count: 3.1k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: None, pure fluff! ✯ Author's Note: I was talking with a friend earlier about how Din would go to the ends of the galaxy for those he loves and it finally got me to finish a little idea I'd been sitting one for a while. His determination and protectiveness is one of my favourite things about him, but the threat of burnout would be real! He would desperately need a rest and someone there to make sure he gets it, because you know he'd never rest himself. Anyway, thank you @suresnips for inspiring this in some way. I hope it cheers you up a little 🤍
✯ My Masterlist ✯
One of the most difficult things about sharing your life with a man whose face was near-permanently hidden, was that you were unable to spot the tell-tale signs of fatigue that were surely present on his features until things reached a crisis point. The helmet that he wore in accordance with his Creed shielded so many of the expressions which were distinctively Din Djarin from the rest of the galaxy. You thought it was a shame that they were denied the privilege of seeing the handsome features and expressive brown eyes which belonged to the Mandalorian whom you loved so dearly. Then again, it meant they were entirely reserved for you, and the little green child who completed your Clan of Three.
You had first encountered Din in the aftermath of his mission to retake Mandalore. There had been whispers that one of the Mandalorians who had helped to save your homeplanet of Nevarro from a band of diabolical pirates had taken up residence by the lava flats. You were not inclined to believe rumours and had been stunned when you had seen the gleaming unpainted beskar, dazzling in the afternoon sunlight as he made his way through the marketplace one day.
The first time you and Din had a conversation, as he bought wares from the market stall you owned, the connection had been evident. With his deep, gravelly voice and understanding, patient nature, even when you tripped over your words as you peddled your wares, you found him constantly on your mind. Over the next few months, your paths had crossed enough times for it to become evident that the feeling was mutual.
Now, you were fortunate to reside in the little cabin that Din owned by the lava flats of Nevarro. Your home was a little slice of heaven that the two of you had carved out together alongside Grogu. When you saw how hectic and chaotic Din’s life was, you were grateful that he had allowed you to get close to him. You wondered how he had managed before he had forged a life with you and how he had looked after himself before you were around to share some of the burden. Your heart ached to think of Din alone, neglecting his own needs at the expense of others. He was selfless and devoted to those he loved by nature, but sometimes Din needed taking care of himself.
Happily, now the two of you had found each other, you were a true partnership in every sense of the word.
On your worst days, Din was there to pick you up and brighten your spirits, just as, in turn, you were there for him. You celebrated each other’s successes when times were good, too. Which, fortunately, was the case more often than not. Life with Din was always exciting; even when he was away from you, he always took the effort to keep in touch.
You were stunned when you first met Din and he regaled you with details of recent events in his life, that he had not allowed himself to rest on his laurels and enjoy the glory after completing such an arduous task as retaking Mandalore. Instead, he had taken jobs with the New Republic and turned his former bounty hunting skills to helping to keep the galaxy safe. It was relentless, exhausting work. But his determined nature meant that he was only too eager to lend his services to them whenever a job came up.
Monitoring Din for signs of fatigue was particularly difficult when the best visuals you got was a grainy few minutes of his helmeted form visible on your holoprojector, or a few moments of audio on your comlink whenever his schedule permitted. You had been begging Din to rest for several weeks now, but he had not heeded your requests. Since you had moved into the cabin with him and were able to care for Grogu, it had allowed him to take more dangerous jobs that he would have felt uncomfortable with Grogu accompanying him on, such as the most recent job that he had agreed to. You had been frustrated when he informed you about another assignment. You were deathly afraid that he would work himself into the ground if he wasn’t careful. Your pleas for him to postpone the job and rest had been unheeded.
If Din wouldn’t take care of himself, it fell on your shoulders to keep an eye on him. So, this time, when he returned from his latest job, you resolved that you would not be so easy on him.
This time, Din Djarin would rest.
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The rumble of the N-1’s engines as the Nubian starfighter descended through the Nevarrian atmosphere was a welcome sound in the stillness of the night. For hours, the only sounds audible in the cabin had been the faint snores of Grogu from his room and your racing thoughts. Now, the distant growl of the engines, which turned into a roar as they grew nearer, signalled your favourite Mandalorian’s return from his most recent mission.
You were up like a shot, racing towards the door and out into the night to greet Din. Yet, any excitement you felt soon dissipated when you saw how sluggishly he moved. The man who often so energetically leapt out of the cockpit, as though it were no effort at all, was now a lethargic figure in the darkness. As he leapt onto the volcanic surface of the planet, he barely managed to regain his posture after bending his knees in a smooth landing. Instead, he leant back against the body of the N-1.
You shook your head as you approached him, frustrated that he had been so stubborn and ignored your protestations when he informed you about his latest mission. A time for scolding him would come later, though. For now, you walked across the ground, closing the distance between the two of you.
Instinctively, Din had held his arms out in preparation for you to step into his embrace. Even in his fatigued state, his exhausted body still knew that he wanted you in his arms. You smiled as you nestled your head into the crook of his neck and wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling his warmth between the cool plates of beskar.
“I missed you,” you whispered into Din’s cowl.
“I missed you too, cyare,” Din replied, his voice low and husky as he rubbed circles into your back with his large hands.
“Let’s go inside,” you insisted as you stepped away from his embrace and took his hand in yours, leading him towards the cabin. Towards home. Towards rest.
You hoped that the child you had finally managed to see settled in his cot had not awakened at the sound of the engines. Getting Grogu to sleep had only proved successful after several hours of tantrums when you had forbidden him to stay up past his bedtime to greet his father. It was probably harsh, but you knew that Din was keen that his son maintained a regular sleeping schedule. Which was ironic, considering how little he respected his own needs for rest.
Din's stubborness and insistence that he was fine meant that ensuring Din had some much-needed rest was a burden which fell squarely on you. If the way he had strained as he leapt from the N-1 had not been proof enough, his heavy footsteps as he trudged back to the cabin by your side further indicated his need for rest.
Unfortunately, as soon as you stepped through the entryway to the cabin, you were greeted by a certain child and his pleading brown eyes. Grogu had not missed his father’s return and he wanted attention. Din was never one to begrudge Grogu’s needs, and without hesitation, he pulled his helmet off and crouched down to scoop his son up. You silently cringed as you noticed the way he grunted thanks to the exertion of such an action. He desperately needed to rest.
But Din Djarin was a stubborn man.
“Din, let me put Grogu to sleep. You need to rest,” you reminded him as he took Grogu into his arms.
“I’m fine,” he shrugged off your concerns once again, “I'll put Grogu to sleep.”
As the two of them disappeared down the small hallway and into Grogu’s room, you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. Then, you took a deep breath and in an attempt to ensure your anger did not get the better of you. If there was one common thread that ran through Din Djarin's every action, it was his absolute devotion to his son. Nothing in this galaxy would ever stand in the way of him and Grogu. You knew Din would do anything for his son, even at the expense of his well-being.
Fortunately, you knew you were there to take care of Din. So you allowed him his precious time with his son and resolved to be there for him afterwards and take care of his weary mind and fatigued body. You padded down the hallway towards the room you and Din shared, pausing briefly outside Grogu’s room. You smiled at the sounds you could hear through the door. You could hear the heartwarming sound of a child’s giggles and the familiar rasp of Din’s husky voice as he recounted various stories from his recent mission to his son.
Satisfied that Din had not fallen asleep on top of Grogu at the very least, you entered your room and set about gathering the most luxurious pyjamas he owned. You had already changed the sheets to the softest silks in the galaxy in preparation for his return, hoping that once he felt them against his skin he would not fight you when you insisted he rest. You lay the pyjamas on the sheets and perched on the side of your cot to await Din’s return. You were content to give him some alone time with his precious boy.
Finally, leaden footsteps sounded at the door, indicating that Grogu was asleep. Now, it was time to ensure that Din finally rested.
“Hi,” Din sighed, with a smile that did not quite meet his exhausted eyes.
“Hi,” you breathed.
As he stepped towards you, you noticed how deep the wrinkles on his face had become. You always loved the lines and grooves present on his face. They complimented the greys apparent in the smattering of facial hair across his strong jawline. You thought such features made him look distinguished and handsome, rather than old and exhausted. Tonight, though, their appearanced alarmed you. They were deeper than usual. You had never seen Din look so exhausted. His usual bright, warm brown eyes were dulled and dark. They were slightly bloodshot, too. Your heart ached at the sight of him.
“You look exhausted,” you observed.
“I’m fine,” Din insisted.
“The bags under your eyes suggest otherwise.”
At your comment, Din’s ungloved hands balled into fists at his sides. He sighed through gritted teeth. You hated the way he shrugged off your concerns so nonchalantly and your observations
“Din,” you sighed, “You are allowed to rest sometimes, you know?”
“I know.”
“Well then, why don’t you let me take care of you? Why don’t you sit on the new silk sheets that I put on, especially for you, and let me take your armour off?”
“I can do it,” Din shook his head and averted his gaze.
“I know you can, but I want to help you,” you nodded as you pushed yourself off the cot and stepped towards him. “You do so much for me and Grogu. You do so much for the entire galaxy. You must be exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” Din repeated. This time, hearing those words caused something to snap inside of you. You had reached the end of your tether.
“Din, you look like you haven’t slept since you left a week ago! You’re going to run yourself into the ground!” you exclaimed forcefully, voice a little louder than you intended.
You both stopped and looked in the direction of Grogu’s room, panic-stricken that you had awoken him. Fortunately, there was no noise. Grogu still slept soundly. At your outburst, when Din’s dull eyes met yours again, you noticed that a flicker of recognition had set across his features now. He understood that resting was not a sign of weakness.
“I’m sorry for snapping,” you apologised, instantly remorseful.
“It’s alright,” Din reassured you.
“Please let me shoulder some of the burden, Din. Please don’t fight me on this,” you pleaded.
“Okay,” Din nodded and took a seat on the edge of the cot.
You busied yourself with the various intricate fixtures that attached each piece of Din’s armour to his body, placing them on the floor at his side with as much care as you had observed him pay towards them. Din would stack them properly come the morning. He was meticulous and particular about the way they fitted on each shelf of the cabinet that was fixed into the wall for the very purpose of storing his armour. Even if you stacked them yourself, Din would do it again tomorrow. Better to preserve your energy and make sure he rested first.
By the time you had finished removing his armour, Din’s head was slumped to one side and his eyes were closed. Your heart soared at sight, and the small sounds of his soft snores. Before you could even finish undressing him, he had drifted off to sleep. Finally, the creases in his face looked less terrifying. He looked so peaceful that you hated to wake him. But sleeping in his flightsuit would not be comfortable and the garments you had laid out for him were of the most luxurious material in the galaxy. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his temple.
“Din, I’m sorry to wake you, honey,” you said apologetically, lips against his forehead.
Din continued snoring softly. It seemed a more drastic gesture would be in order. You leaned down and pressed your lips to his, smiling softly at the way his moustache tickled your upper lip. It was slightly longer than he usually kept it which was unusual for Din, given his fastidious nature. His latest job had been so hectic that personal grooming had fallen by the wayside.
Fortunately, the kiss had the desired effect and Din’s eyes flickered open momentarily. You seized the opportunity.
“Din, why don’t you stand up for a second so I can help you into your pyjamas?” you whispered into his dark brown curls.
“Hmph,” Din grunted in response, his eyes still shut.
“It’ll be worth it, you’ll be comfortable then,” you suggested.
Din opened his eyes, bleary thanks to your rude interruption of his peaceful slumber, and nodded slowly. You steadied him as he stood to his feet on shaky legs and helped him as he removed his final garments. With the pesky flak vest and flightsuit discarded, the final barriers to Din and some much-needed rest had been removed.
Now clad in his luxurious silk pyjamas, you pulled the top sheets back for Din to clamber into the warmth and sanctuary of your cot, which he did without hesitation. In the time that it took for you to turn the light out and round the cot to join him, the quiet snores had resumed. You shook your head and smirked at the further proof – as if any more were required – of just how exhausted Din had been. You sighed in contentment as you took your place behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You rested them against his body, enjoying the warmth which radiated from his body. Sleeping in the cabin without Din felt cold and lonely, now he had returned and that contrast was even more stark.
“I love you, Din,” you whispered into the nape of his neck, watching as your breath caused the dark brown curls which lingered there to flutter slightly. “Even when you’re stubborn,” you added.
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The sensation of warm lips as they pressed a soft kiss to your forehead awoke you from the sleep you had drifted off into. Your eyelids fluttered open. In the golden light of a Nevarrian morning, you were finally able to see the warm brown eyes of the man you loved beyond comparison gazing at you adoringly.
“Good morning,” Din rasped before he claimed your lips with his in a languid kiss.
“Morning, Din,” you sighed when you finally parted. “How did you sleep?”
“I slept well, thank you,” Din nodded.
“Glad to hear it,” you murmured as you stretched your arms out.
“Thank you for last night,” Din sighed against your lips. “I’m sorry for being so pigheaded.”
“It’s alright, Din,” you smiled in gratitude that he was aware of his stubbornness. “I know being taken care of is a new experience for you.”
“It is,” Din confirmed as he rolled off you and came to rest at your side. “But I appreciate your concern.”
“I know you do,” you nodded. “Which is why you’re going to take another nap, while I wake Grogu up and prepare some breakfast for us.”
“But–”
“Ah!” you said, raising a finger to his plush lips which were currently positioned in an adorable pout. “No fighting me on this, let me take care of you. Okay?”
“Fine,” Din huffed.
“Awww,” you cooed and stroked his cheek affectionately. “You’re pretty adorable when you’re grumpy, you know?”
“I’m not adorable,” Din sulked.
“You are,” you giggled at his ridiculousness. “Now, roll over and let me hold you again until you fall asleep.”
Din turned over wordlessly, settling into position in preparation for a nap. Your arms found their position around his waist once more and you pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, which produced a rumble of laughter from somewhere deep within him.
“I love you, Din. Even when you’re stubborn,” you whispered into his ear, repeating the words that he had not heard the previous night.
“I love you too,” Din replied. “Thank you for putting up for me.”
“Of course, honey,” you nodded. “I’m stuck with you now.”
“Thank Maker. I don’t know how I ever managed before our paths crossed,” Din sighed sleepily as you placed your hands underneath his shirt and traced soothing circles into the warm expanse of his belly.
“I don’t know, either,” you chuckled at the thought.
But the time for worrying about how differently the respective courses of your lives could have taken, were it not for that chance meeting at the market on Nevarro all those months ago, would come later.
For now, it was time for Din Djarin to rest.
#din djarin fic#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#the mandalorian x reader#mando x reader#mando x you#the mandalorian fanfiction#din djarin fluff#pedro pascal characters#my fics#this is seriousl Y SO SOFT AJJGHJHH AND CALLING DIN HONEY MAYBE ILL RIP MY HAIR OUT!!!!!!#i love him i love hiM I LOVE HIM
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Supply Run - Return (part two)
AO3
PART ONE
Supply Run - Exchange (part three)
Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x afab!Reader
Word Count: 8.0k
Summary: You’ve been Mando’s crew partner for a year now. Throughout that year Mando has warmed up to you and given you signs that your heart throbbing crush on him is reciprocated. There’s one thing making you hesitate. The condoms he bought on the most recent supply run.
Chapter Summary: While Mando takes a trip to the market and gets what he needs, he ponders your relationship and what it means to him.
Content Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only! Switching POVs, post season 2, the Crest lives, strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of Grogu, soft!Mando, insecure!Mando (a smidge), helmet loopholes, pining, idiots in love, jealous!reader, sad!reader for a little, mentions of sex work (sex work is work!), eventual SMUT (making out, grinding, f!receiving fingering, f!receiving oral sex, p in v, PRAISE kink, dirty talk), FLUFF, cuddling, happy ending guaranteed!
A/N: Thank you all so much for the responses on the first part! This is my first fic that I've ever shared and it makes me so happy that other people enjoy my writing! Enjoy!
Mando handed his scope off to you in the worn down store. Wallpaper peeled from the ancient wooden planks of the walls. Cobwebs littered the untouched areas of the store. The work stations in the back, visible from the pick up counter at the front, were in complete disarray. Several projects started, but not finished. Several projects finished, but not retrieved.
You took the scope in your hand and twisted it in your hands until your gaze landed on the name of the manufacturer and the serial number. Your eyebrows shot up once the brand of the scope was revealed, it twisted in your hands once more. Hands raising the metal tube so it was level with your eyes, you looked into the scope.
“Ah! I know what it is!”
Mando watched in confusion as you ran to a workstation and grabbed a singular tool. How did you know what was wrong so quickly? He sat in the hull of the Crest for hours attempting to fix the scope. The motions of taking the scope apart and putting it back together were etched into his brain from the number of times he did so.
You returned to the front of the store with the tool in hand. “This manufacturer has been having these issues lately. They built their magnification system like no one else, but they didn’t seem to account for the need to recalibrate the scope every once in a while. Recalibrating too often causes the lenses to misalign.”
Mando calibrated his every day. He had to. It was part of his job. A miscalibration could be the difference between a two hour hunt and a twelve hour hunt.
Your face twisted in concentration as you inserted the tool into the side of the scope. Jostling the metal, it popped open and allowed access to the inside. “For some reason they put these weird pins in…” You trailed off while you removed a total of three thin metal pins. Once the pins were removed, you clicked the top of the scope back into place and handed it to Mando.
Mando previously took the scope apart countless times. He never noticed any pins.
“Twenty credits, please.” You said with a smile. Your gaze met his–you somehow found it through his black visor–and you maintained eye contact.
The display on the inside of Mando’s helmet only progressed seven minutes after he entered the store. Inside of his helmet his eyebrows shot up. He was impressed. Not only with your efficiency, but with the reasonable price as well.
“I’m impressed.” He stated. Nodding at you, he retrieved a few credits from his utility belt and set them on the paint chipped counter. He turned and walked a few paces and then stopped in front of the door.
He’s been looking for a crew mate for weeks. The potential candidates he’s stumbled across were either annoying, rude, or incompetent. Throughout his time as a bounty hunter he’s been to countless repair shops. The service was always lack-luster, prices were too high, repair time much too long.
Sure, he just met you eight minutes ago, but you had potential. He turned on his heel and faced you. Armor glinted in the low lighting of the run down shop.
“Are you in the market for a new job?”
–
Walking to the market, he’d been reflecting on his decision to bring you onto the Crest as a crew partner.
It was the best decision he ever made, besides saving Grogu from the Empire.
You were intelligent. Friendly. Resourceful. Efficient. Brave.
You stared a Mandalorian straight in the eyes–well, visor–and didn’t even flinch. You didn’t even break eye contact, unlike everyone else. People would turn to whoever they’re with to avoid his gaze. They spoke like he wasn’t a meter or two away–and like he couldn’t amplify their voices with his helmet.
His tall, broad stance usually set everyone on edge. The heavy weight of beskar armor, a reminder of his skillset, didn’t aid in calming the nerves of anyone either. He was typically soft spoken around others, as he noticed people’s reactions when he spoke–eyes wide, speech stuttering, shaking hands–scared.
Everyone was afraid of him.
Except you.
When you first boarded the Razor Crest, Mando was extremely careful in making sure you were comfortable. The majority of his days not hunting were spent in the cockpit or in his bunk. Whenever you crossed paths in the hull you offered him a small smile and quickly looked away. Did your bravery fade away?
He came back from a hunt one day, quarry in tow, and he was relieved to hear, “How was your day?” Fall from your lips once the bounty was in carbonite.
Still cautious–mindful of how the modulator made his voice sound–he kept his answers short and to the point.
“Fine.”
“Busy.”
“Awful.”
Hearing the four words you said after each return from a hunt, and being able to give you a response without you slinking away, made the hunts worth it.
One night always stood out in his mind. It was just like any other return from one of his hunts. Mando dragged the quarry up the Crest’s ramp by a cord tied around their ankles. He lifted the man to stand up, doing so effortlessly with a few grunts to spare.
Your living space was in the hull, so he always tried to make the ends of his hunts fast. You didn’t have any choice but to watch. Mando didn’t want to make you watch for too long. Maker, he didn’t want you to watch at all.
His fist slammed the button to begin the freezing process. Breathing heavily, he stood and watched the bounty as they froze into the carbonite cell. A blanket of silence covered the hull once the hissing of the freezing mechanisms came to a stop.
“How was your day?”
There it is. His favorite part after the hunt. Knowing you were there, safe within the hull, and that you wanted to be friendly with him–even after witnessing him freeze a person he tracked down for several hours.
“Nothing you want to hear about,” he replied, his voice tinged with tiredness. The helmet’s modulator most likely didn’t register the sleep in his voice. Truly, he didn’t think that you would want to hear about it. The Mandalorian was afraid that hearing about his hunts would put you on edge. You already extended a branch of friendliness to him twice a day. He didn’t want to give that up by talking about the bounties he tracks down.
“Try me.”
Those words.
Those words have only ever been spoken to him by enemies. It always caused annoyance to wash over him, head to toe. He’s a Mandalorian. Confident of his skills in combat. No matter the odds, Mando knew he would like them.
But when those words tumbled from your lips, it was different. When his enemies weren’t scared of him, it was annoying. When you weren’t scared of him, adoration filled his body. And not adoration in a patronizing way, but adoration as a form of respect.
It made him want you that much more.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Mando realized the crotch of his pants were tight. Nonchalantly, he clasped his hands together and rested them below his belt.
“Quarry tried to escape and they ran. Would have been back four hours ago,” the modulator gritted out. Again, he was conscious of how the modulator warped his voice. “Not too fun,” he added in an attempt to make the conversation more casual.
You were silent. He whispered a curse to himself under his helmet, one that he was certain wouldn’t be picked up by his modulator. Was his answer too much? Mando quickly became nervous and started to shift his weight from one foot to the other. The silence you left in the air made him a bit anxious.
The T shape of his visor peered over to you. You stood still in shock, reminiscent of the people that saw him in public. Before his thoughts could spiral too much, you replied, “Oh, I’m sorry.”
Dank farrik. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to comfort him. “You don’t have to be sorry,” his chest brushed against your shoulder as he swiftly hopped onto the first rung of the ladder up to the cockpit. “It’s my job.”
“That doesn’t mean it sucks any less,” you said. He smiled underneath his helmet at your consideration. Your eyes widened and your mouth opened and closed as you realized what you said, “sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that your job sucks.”
You weren’t wrong. Making his way through tough terrain, relying on a blinking red light on a piece of metal to guide him. Finding them was a task in itself, but dragging them back to the Crest was the other half of his job that sucked. Mando looked over his shoulder at you and replied matter-of-factly, “My job does suck.”
A giggle bubbled out from your chest. Every once in a while you would be reading a funny article on your Holopad and your laughs would echo through the hull of the Crest, making their way up into the cockpit. He needed more of them. His silver helmet shook slightly from side to side and he turned back to climb the ladder. But not before he also let out a small chuckle.
If you were comfortable enough to stand up to him, and laugh at his awful attempts at jokes–after he just hauled a bounty onto the ship–Mando realized he was safe.
Not only were you safe with him. He felt safe with you, in more ways than one.
Kriff it. You extended a friendly attitude towards him–a faceless warrior covered in impenetrable armor–then he could extend a friendly attitude towards you as well.
You asked him about this day, both in the mornings and the evenings. He learned about what you like and didn’t like. One item stood out to him. Caf. He always entered into a cloud of caf scent when he sauntered into the hull in the mornings. Mando was usually up before you, so he figured he would start making you a cup every morning. Confident enough in knowing which kinds of caf you preferred, he would stock up on caf every supply run.
The Mandalorian got closer to you, both physically and emotionally. Sometimes he would catch his hands landing on your waist or your lower back when he passed you on the ship. You’d shoot him a small smile in response. The distance he kept from you only decreased. He wanted to see your smile more and more.
One thing he didn’t see coming was your interest in Mando’a. He would mumble to himself in the ship while completing various tasks.
“What’s that word mean?” You’d occasionally ask. The Mandalorian would explain their meanings, sometimes struggling to translate the word to Basic.
He must have taught you at least two dozen words in Mando’a by now. Each time you asked you would give him your full attention.
At night, if he amplified the sound with his helmet enough, he could hear you practicing the words and recalling their meanings. It motivated him to share more words with you.
–
All of these experiences have led to this day. He’s been planning it for a month or two now.
He wants to ask you on a date. Nerves bubbled up from his stomach and throughout his body. They suddenly came to a halt.
Not now. First, he needs to collect information on a quarry.
Lost in his thoughts, he looked up and the market filled his vision with you in his peripheral. It wasn’t too busy, part of the reason why he was comfortable enough for you to shop on your own. He clarified the meet up point to you and watched as you took off. You had a bounce in your step, probably due to your excitement at shopping alone.
Once he meandered further into the market he began to collect information. This market was the bounty’s last location. Mando’s guess was that he either simply wanted to be in a small city, gambled their life savings away, or they paid for visit after visit with the workers at the brothel until they ran out of credits.
Only one way to find out. The gambling and brothels didn’t start up until later in the afternoon. To kill the time, and to possibly find the quarry, Mando wandered throughout the different sections of the market.
He asked a few vendors about the bounty. Mando described the man to many market sellers and only got a slight lead from one woman donned in patterned fabrics.
“I think he went that way,” the woman gestured with one of her hands towards an intersection, “Take the left path. I don’t know anything else beyond that.”
Mando dropped a few credits into her hand and gave her a polite nod, “Thank you.” He continued on and curved his gait to take the left path. From the signs and general merchandise displayed on each stall, he knew he was entering the clothing section of the market.
The helmet covering his head swiveled from left to right and right to left. No one matched the description of his quarry. Repeating his previous process, he made his way down the stall-lined alley and asked a couple different vendors.
Once the last vendor finished talking, and provided him with another lead, he dug his hand into his pocket and slid the credits on the stall’s counter towards them. Turning his back towards the vendor, his feet carried him two steps back into the market.
Then he saw you.
You stood hunched over a table of colorful bracelets. Tapping his fingers to the temple of his helmet, Mando zoomed in and the helmet displayed your face to him, deep in thought. Looking down, you were hovering your hands over a grid of various green bracelets.
You stopped on one. Mostly brown, almost too much to be in the green section, Mando thought. Nonetheless, the green and silver streaks peeked in and out of the thick threads of brown that made up the bracelet. Your fingers sorted through the sizes of the bracelet and selected one that looked close to your size.
Clutching it in one hand, the other hand searched for another of the same bracelet. It was larger than the previous size. You set the smaller bracelet down and tested the strings. The bracelet was adjustable, and you smiled at the discovery.
You transferred the bracelets onto the table of the stall and used one hand to dig into your pockets. Palm held out flat, Mando guessed that about twenty credits sat in your palm. He followed your gaze to the sign listing the prices.
PRICES
1 bracelet = 15 credits
2 = 30 credits
3 = 45 credits
4 = 60 credits
Shoulders falling, you dropped the credits back into your pocket and returned the bracelets to their original spot in the grid of green. Ground crunched beneath your shoes as you turned and continued wandering through the market.
Mando noted it was the third stall to the left of the bright green stall on the left side of the alley.
Not wanting you to realize he saw you, the Mandalorian walked in the opposite direction you took. After twenty minutes he noticed that the stalls became much more strange than the stalls in the clothing section of the market. Peering at the different products for sale, he saw a potions shop offering “super strength elixir” and a vendor selling various pet-like creatures. A few more vendors passed his peripheral vision as he continued his strides. They came to a stop once a building larger than the surrounding stalls came into view.
His helmet tilted upwards to read the sign displayed front and center on the large building: BROTHEL.
Tapping the side of his helmet, the time on the helmet’s display indicated that the brothel and gambling scenes had just begun. Mando tapped the temple of his helmet once again and the warm bodies within the building lit up, like he had x-ray vision. He counted a dozen in total. One body stood in the same spot inside near an entryway–the bouncer, Mando thought.
The bouncer was the individual that allowed access in and out of the building. If their memory was decent, they would be like a living guest book. Mando figured he could bribe them to reveal information, which was his usual plan with most of the beings he spoke with.
He sauntered over to the side of the building the bouncer was standing at. A singular light flickered over the side door, the sun was still out, so Mando was confused why it was on. The beskar helmet observed the side door.
Metal. Double deadbolts. Keypad on the left side. Small slit at eye level–neck level for the Mandalorian.
As soon as he crouched down to look near the slit, it slid open and revealed a thick pair of black eyebrows. Black eyes bore into the brow of Mando’s helmet, as the bouncer couldn’t seem to find his eyes.
“Do you have an appointment?” The bouncer asked. The voice behind the door was gruff, as if the words had to crawl from the depths of his throat.
“No,” Mando responded.
Black eyes blinked and then disappeared when the bouncer closed the metal slit.
Mando was taken aback and furrowed his brow. His fist pounded on the door. He just wanted this hunt to be over with. He wanted to get back to you.
The slit in the door revealed two black eyes once more.
“I have credits and will pay you if you give me information on a client your establishment may have served.” Mando’s modulator gritted out loudly. Straight and to the point. All business.
Eyes disappeared again, but were then accompanied with the sounds of the deadbolts unlocking. The metal door swung open to reveal a man dressed in all black with a silver name tag. Black hair matched the rest of his ensemble.
Still holding the door, the bouncer asked, “What’s the bounty look like?”
An eyebrow raised inside Mando’s helmet, but he figured the bouncer knew the drill by now. Even other bounty hunters knew that brothels were what many bounties visited. A gloved hand unbuttoned a pocket on his belt and retrieved a bounty puck. Clicking the side of it, the puck displayed the quarry.
The man stepped out of the doorway and onto the pavement, pulling the door closed behind him. His black eyes slightly squinted when his gaze trailed up and down the hologram.
“Ah yeah, I’ve seen this guy. He has a type, always goes for the blondes.”
“Does he have any upcoming appointments?” Mando questioned.
The bouncer sighed in thought and pulled a small notepad from his pocket. Mando mirrored the man’s motion and produced a pen and notepad from his pocket.
“The guy has an appointment in two days. He just asked to see a blonde. Figures.” The man shrugged and opened his notepad. Mando noticed it was a planner, and the bouncer flipped to the pages for the appointments two days from today.
“Which workers would take him as a client?” Mando’s modulator churned the words. His pen clicked as he readied himself to write.
The man donned in black made a fist with one hand and raised a finger with each name, “Ari. Taima. And Nomi. They would be in rooms one, five, or seven.”
Wow, Mando thought, this guy really knew the drill. He quickly finished up writing down the names and room numbers of each worker. The pen scratched feverishly against the cream colored paper, leaving behind black strokes to form letters and numbers. Notepad folding closed and the pen clicking, signifying the end of his notes, Mando returned the pen and paper to their place in his pocket. His opposing hand reached into a different pocket and produced a sizable amount of credits. Feeling generous, thankful that this hunt was going to be quick, he compensated the bouncer handsomely.
First task done. Second task on the horizon.
Creaking produced from the hinges of the metal door as the bouncer disappeared behind it once more. Flickering light gleamed off the beskar armor that protected the Mandalorian in combat. Although he wasn’t going into combat, because he wouldn’t be nervous if he was.
Mando trained most of his life with the greatest warriors in the galaxy. Combat flowed through his blood easily. It was a part of him.
But he was never trained on how to ask people out on dates.
On top of that, he was never trained on how to ask you out on a date.
He didn’t want to misread the situation. You could just be friendly. Who would want to date a man and not know what he looks like? Who would want to constantly live on a ship, without a permanent home?
Being Mando, he prepared for the worst. If you said no, he figured that you would be uncomfortable living with the man who asked you out on a date. Knowing that he’s attracted to you. He would fly wherever you wanted and give you some credits to get started. Kriff, he’d send credits for however long it takes for you to get on your feet. Then he’d leave you alone.
Admittedly, the Mandalorian would probably keep an eye on you to make sure you were safe. You just wouldn’t know he’s there.
But if you said yes.
Mando’s chest bloomed with anticipation. Firework-like tingles trailed up and down his limbs at the thought. He bit his lip within the confines of his helmet when he realized his pants had gotten tighter. Thankfully he was a Mandalorian, because heat washed over his face, half due to arousal and the other half in embarrassment.
The brown eyes underneath the helmet widened. If he wanted to do more with you and you agreed, he didn’t have protection.
Turning on his heel, cape whipping behind him, he made a quick pace back to the brothel.
Once he arrived at the gray building, the light at the side of the building having more of a purpose, Mando glided towards the same door as before. Bringing a fist up to the metal, he knocked three times.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Clink. Shhhkt.
“Do you sell condoms?” the modulator quickly blurted.
All business.
—
He arrived at the meet up point before you. Leaning against a nearby tree, Mando checked the time constantly, as if he was devoted to the action more than his Creed. If you were late, he always went looking.
Thankfully, you trudged up to the food stall on time with a hefty bag full of purchases. Fine, brown gravel grinded against the soles of Mando’s shoes as he made his way over to you. His gloved hand slipped the bag from your grasp and the pair of you began walking back to the Crest.
Both of you carried on with your normal post-supply run routines. You and Mando, but this time just Mando, piled the purchases from the market onto the hull’s floor. From there, the items could be sorted through and put in their respective places around the Crest.
As Mando finished unloading the large bag of purchases, he quickly dug around for the receipts. He knew how much you liked to review the shopping haul each time a supply run was completed. Mando enjoyed seeing the satisfaction wash over your face after you read over the receipts.
But this time was different. You froze once you got to the last receipt.
Mando’s helmet tilted in confusion. He took a few steps closer towards you, “What’s wrong? Did we forget something?”
You remained still while your eyes darted over the lines on the receipt. With your back turned to him, Mando found the opportunity to zoom in on the ink printed on the flimsy paper.
ITEMS PURCHASED (1)
CONDOM - 12 PACK
Oh. Fuck. FUCK.
He hasn’t even asked you on a date yet and now you probably already think he’s a perv. Nerves took over his body as you continued to stand still.
Your hand quickly crushed the receipts and threw them in the trash, “Nope! The last receipt didn’t look familiar but,” you trailed off slightly but recovered, “I remembered what I bought from the place.” A nervous laugh–obviously fake, Mando knew what your real one sounded like–escaped from your lips.
He fucked it up. You knew he was interested in you like that. And you didn’t feel the same. He hasn’t even asked you on the date yet. It’s all screwed up now.
But he also felt like he didn’t have enough evidence. What if you did like him but the idea of…needing to use the condoms…made you nervous.
Mando had to at least try. The least he had to do was ask you.
He cleared his throat and grabbed the bag off of the floor. You stood away from him, biting the inside of your cheek, nervously watching his movements.
“I’m going to go to the night market,” he informed you, “I have some business with a bounty I need to take care of.”
The bounty wouldn’t be captured until two days from now. In reality, he was really going to go and purchase snacks, takeout, and a pair of those bracelets you admired. It would have been suspicious if he met you back at the meet up point with bags full of snacks. The beskar man figured it would be best to hold off on buying them until later, and tell you he was getting a bounty, so you wouldn’t catch on.
He should’ve waited for this second trip to buy the condoms, he thought.
–
Mando left to, “Go to the night market,” he said. You saw the condom listed on the market receipts, you knew where he went tonight. What he’s going to do.
The brothels.
Yeah, sure, he’s paying a worker to give him a service. No feelings attached. But you didn’t want him to be with anyone else. Was Mando necessarily yours? No. Have you ever had sex with him? Also no.
That didn’t stop you from getting jealous.
And it wasn’t just jealousy. It was fear. What if he fell in love with one of them? Or what if he was going on dates? He could have a romantic interest you don’t even know about. Next thing you know, they’re going steady and you’re kicked off the ship. Or worse, you have to watch him love someone that isn’t you.
No more silence with him in the cockpit, watching as the hyperspace lights soar past the windshield. Feet tapping down the ladder as you both began your nighttime routines. He’d wait in the hull near the door of the fresher in just his helmet, undershirt, sleep pants, and socks. As he lifted off the wall from his leaning stance he’d ask you, “Are you done?” Holding his own hands in front of him, trying to seem relaxed, as if he was trying to look less intimidating. “Yeah,” you’d quickly respond, leaving the fresher and brushing past him. Sometimes his hand found your waist as he passed, or the small of your back. “Thank you,” he’d grunt gently as he closed the fresher door.
No more of Mando letting out a small, “Good night,” before lingering on your closing eyes and watching as your lips smiled, forming your response, “Good night.”
Falling asleep, you knew you’d wake up to him. He would be up before you on most days, leaving you a fresh cup of caf and your favorite ration pack (when he had them). The short chatter between you two, going over the logistics of the next hunt, telling stories from your past, or just thinking out loud to each other. Gone.
You would be banished from home.
The fear struck your chest. Heat searing through your ribcage and meeting your spine, the visions repeated over and over in your head. Tears fell like waterfalls from your eyes. Most streams connected underneath your chin and trailed down your neck. Your back met the hull’s wall as you sank down onto the floor. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Your head was heavy and numb.
Just breathe. You knew you weren’t going to die. Go through some heartbreak? Maybe, but you knew you’d be alive. It helped. Your breath slowed and the fear dissipated into the air around you. That didn’t stop the flow of tears down your cheeks as your eyes were fixed on the closed ramp.
–
Mando’s footsteps set a steady pace back to the market.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
He displayed a map of the marketplace as an overlay on the display of his helmet. Mando usually reserved this practice for combat to aid in determining exit strategies and the best plan of attack.
But now he was using it to calculate the most efficient route throughout the marketplace in order to see you again sooner.
Closing the overlay from the helmet’s display, he was met with the sight of the market. Long strings of lights decorated the different stalls. Many vendors took advantage of the dark and used different, bright combinations to reel in customers. Some lights were multicolored. Some flashing. Some huge and some small. He thought of the “ooh”s, and, “ahh”s that you would let out at the brilliant display.
The Mandalorian started in the food section of the market. Carefully examining which vendors carried your favorite snacks, he made purchase after purchase in quick succession. His helmet remained on a swivel, scanning the stalls from right to left and left to right.
A stall offering your favorite kind of takeout came into view.
Once Mando arrived at the stall he ordered two takeout meals. The vendor looked startled and confused as he ordered. They shakily accepted the credits for the two meals. Gazes drifted away from Mando and quickly returned as he stood waiting for the meals to be prepared. A bell rang and he retrieved two warm containers, placing them in his bag alongside the snacks.
One last stop. The bracelets.
Marching through the food district, he came upon an intersection at which the left path led him to the clothing district. Yet again, his helmet pivoted on his neck from one side to another.
The third stall to the left of the bright green stall on the left side of the alley.
Mando continued his steady pace until the bright green stall came into view. The brightness of the exterior paint was exaggerated by the warm light emitted by lanterns, which decorated the outside of the shop. He didn’t notice before but the store sold children’s clothes. Onesies. Small shoes. Tiny hats.
A small tunic. Small enough for a human child younger than one year old. The tunic reminded him of Grogu’s. Mando’s bare hands brushed against the material countless times as he cradled The Child in his arms.
The last time he spoke about Grogu was with you. You listened and offered support. He’s never had anyone do that for him.
His visor turned to his left. The soft fairy lights of the stall reflected off of the beskar helmet on his head. As if the beskar reflected a dark sky decorated with bright stars. Various fabrics hung from the side of the vendor’s stall to cover the old wooden planks. Little accessories were placed throughout the shop on different tables and displays.
Mando wasn’t focused on those items, he was focused on the long table of bracelets organized by color. His feet carried him to the green section. The helmet turned downwards to allow him to observe the selection.
Shit.
There were so many bracelets similar to the pair you held, just all in different combinations of green, silver, and brown. Was it the bracelet with the large green cord and the small silver and brown threads? Or the one with the large silver cord and green and brown threads? Or thick brown cord with streaks of green and silver? His hands hovered over the options, doing his best to recall the details from earlier in the day.
“It’s this one,” a woman’s voice said.
A bit startled, the Mandalorian looked up and found a woman standing on the other side of the table. She wore long robes with intricate patterns. Jewelry decorated every limb and part of her body, like jewels were dripping down from her skin from a storm of gemstones. Hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back. Her smile was kind and her gaze met Mando at his eyebrow.
A good try, he thought.
“I’m sorry?” He replies. She couldn’t possibly know which bracelet he was trying to find.
“You were watching them earlier. From across the street,” she let out faint exhales as she let out a short laugh, “Maybe you should hide a little better next time.”
She reached out and picked two bracelets out of the display grid. “I remember the sizes too,” she said, “The person you watched held onto them for so long, they seemed pretty attached to them. I kept track of which bracelets they were just in case.” The robed woman shot him a friendly wink.
“In case of what?” Mando questioned. He was still in shock that the woman noticed him staring at you from across the street.
The woman glanced up at him like that was a dumb question, “In case you came back to get them, Mandalorian. This isn’t my first day on the job.”
It saved him the time and stress of trying to remember which one it was, so he shrugged and watched the woman’s jewelry dangle as she typed onto the register.
Beep. Beep. Beep beep. Ching.
“Okay sir, twenty credits please!” The woman extended her hand out and waited for Mando to place credits into her palm. She was met with the tilting of the black T shape on Mando’s beskar helmet.
“I thought the price was thirty,” he stated as he began to reach into his pockets to retrieve his credits.
The woman let out another small laugh, “Oh, I suppose I should have made the sign larger,” her decorated fingers pointed to a small sign above the one that displays the bracelet prices.
$10 OFF WHEN YOU BUY TWO OR MORE
Mando’s shoulders dip in realization that you could’ve bought the bracelets in the first place. A sigh escapes his modulator and he hands the credits over to the intricately robed vendor. The credits clink into her palm, and then into the register.
He waits silently for her to package them up in a small bag.
“They like you, you know,” the woman mentions, “No one like them would be deciding on which bracelets to buy for that long if they didn’t.” She paused as she was about to place the larger of the two into the small bag, “And look at the size of this one! It’s definitely for you.”
The Mandalorian nods, “I appreciate that,” he pauses before turning away, “let’s hope they do.”
–
Mando sets a faster pace back to the Crest than the one he took from the Crest to the market. He’s impatient, he can’t wait to walk up the ramp and see your body curled up, comfortable and safe, while you sleep soundly in your bed–if you can even call it that, he thought. You usually went to bed early when he went on hunts, otherwise you would be awake talking to him.
Slipping the bag from his shoulder, an ungloved hand rummaged through the contents searching for a small bag. His fingers found the familiar texture and he pulled it out from between the snacks and the takeout.
Mando slung the bag back over his shoulder, pulled the larger of the two bracelets out of the small bag, and slipped his hand through the ring of brown, silver, and green. Grabbing one of the ends with his fingers and pinning it to his palm, the other hand tightened the bracelet to a comfortable size around his wrist.
Once the small bag was returned to its place inside of the larger one, Mando peered around him to get a good look of his surroundings.
The sun was about to set, leaving only a sliver of light available to provide dim light to the landscape. Rocks littered the ground. Shadows from each one making them appear larger in the light of the impending dusk. He reached up and tapped a finger to the temple of his helmet. No living thing was around him.
He paused and set the bag on the ground. Doing one last scan of the area, one of his hands gripped the chin of his helmet and lifted the beskar from his head. The hand held the helmet at his side while he marveled at his wrist.
He caught a good patch of remaining light and watched as the green and silver threads gleamed against the thick brown ones. The bracelet was beautiful. Not only because of the design, but because you picked it out. And it was for him.
Becoming paranoid, the Mandalorian quickly slipped his helmet back onto his head. He waited for the seal of the helmet to engage before continuing back towards the Crest. This time, at an even faster pace.
–
You sat there until you heard heavy footsteps approaching from outside, the hydraulics of the ramp coming to life. Thinking fast, you stood up and made your way towards the fresher to start your nighttime routine.
“Why are you still awake?” Mando’s voice was confused. He stood in front at the top of the ramp with his helmet tilted, hands resting on his hips, but his shoulders were slumped, a bag slung around one. He looked…worried.
Mando was right. Usually when he went on hunts you went to bed early. Nowadays the only thing that kept you awake was him. Talking with him was how you spent most evenings on the Crest, your voices echoed and bounced back to each other in the hull.
He’s used to seeing you curled up on the sleeping pad covered in blankets. Soft breaths came from your body and radiated throughout the Crest. Just like a minute ago, his footsteps would come up the ramp with his bounty in tow. Soft grunts could be heard kitty-corner from your spot in the hull. A hiss of mechanisms as they froze the bounty in carbonite. Then a bit of silence.
The absence of the carbonite freezing stood out in your mind. No bounty, even when he said he was going to go and find one. Your eyes teared up slightly again as the realization truly set in. Mando really did go to the brothel.
You just wanted this night to be like any other night he came back to the Crest with a bounty.
After the bounty was frozen, heavy footsteps made their way across the floor of the hull. But they always stopped a few paces away from your bed, halting for a moment. Mando would complete his nightly routine. Setting the Crest’s coordinates for the next planet and showering in the fresher if he needed to–he usually did.
No matter what the events of his nightly routine were, it always ended with him standing in the doorway of his bunk–the sound of his footsteps always stopped partially inside.
“Good night, cyar'ika.”
You didn’t know what the Mando’a meant, since Mando never used that word around you, but you knew that the, “good night,” was all you needed to finally fall asleep.
You always waited up for him, only until reasonable hours of the night, of course, but he didn’t know it.
The sound of his footsteps in the present snapped you out of your hazy state. Crying really does a number on your brain.
“Just…couldn’t fall asleep,” you offered him a small smile as you pulled some products out of the tiny fresher cabinet. You wet your face and applied a small amount onto your fingertips, tapping them together for both hands to have the product. As you lifted your face and your hands to the mirror to begin washing your face, you were met with swollen lips, puffy eyes, and slight tear trails dried onto your face, despite the water you just splashed onto it. You froze.
There goes any of your chances to get away with how you spent your night. Staying up late staring at the Crest’s ramp. Waiting for Mando to come home. At least what you thought was home.
“What’s wrong?” Mando’s voice got clearer as he approached the fresher door. His strides long, footsteps clunking, as he removed his leather gloves and tucked the pair into his utility belt.
You went to turn away from him but he got there faster than you could. His ungloved hand rested on your shoulder, grip slow yet firm as he turned you to face him. He rubbed tiny circles onto your skin with his thumb once his eyes beneath the helmet noticed yours.
Your reflection on the silver beskar of his helmet stared back at you. Could you even get away with a lie at this point? What else would have made you cry? It’s not exactly like you could have said the truth either.
Oh yeah, I was sitting here having a panic attack as you participated in a perfectly normal service that is offered on this planet. Then I spiraled and thought about how you might not even want me to be here, that you’ll find another partner to be on this ship with you, and toss me away like none of this meant anything to you.
Mando’s hand waved in front of your face and it brought you back into the present moment. “Did someone come onto the ship while I was gone?” His voice gritted out from the helmet’s modulator.
“Maker, no,” you huffed and tried to look less suspicious, hoping he’ll just drop the topic.
“Then what is it?” He murmured, his modulator barely picking up his syllables. His wide shoulders took up most of the fresher’s door frame. The grip on your shoulder tightened slightly.
“It’s…I don’t think you’ll want to hear it.” You shrugged and repressed the heat of anxiety creeping down the back of your head. Turning to wash and dry your hands, you let out a sigh and started to walk towards the main open space of the hull. Your shoulder gently bumped him as you slid past his large frame in the doorway.
Suddenly your hips were being snapped backwards and dragged back towards the fresher. His damn finger was in your belt loop again.
He pulled you close to him, feeling the heat from his knuckle dig into your hip and spread throughout the rest of your body. His helmet leaned down to look you in the eye and tilted once again.
“Try me,” he paused. He brought his hand up to grip onto the valley where your neck meets your shoulder, slowly enough so you could back away if you so desired. His large palm and thick fingers were calloused and warm. The grip he had on you was still gentle, slightly squeezing. “You know you can tell me, right?”
You let a deep inhale permeate through your lungs. The words flowed through your individual cells. Thoughts of lying escaped your body with each breath. The debate inside your head would end. Whether he had those feelings for you or not.
“I got upset because you went to the brothel.” You told him. Lips trembling and eyes squinted open in an attempt to meet his gaze.
“The brothel?” He held both of your shoulders and brought his visor closer to your face. Thumbs rubbed your shoulders yet again. He sighed as your name left his lips and traveled through his helmet, “I didn’t go to a brothel tonight.” A titled T-shaped gaze met yours. You knew he was looking you in the eyes, and yours into his.
Brows furrowed, you sniffled slightly, “I-, I saw that condoms were on the market receipts.” The thumbs on your shoulders stopped, his chest didn’t rise and fall. He froze. You made Mando freeze.
“Look I know I’m just being dramatic and paying for that kind of thing is completely normal. I just,” you trailed off and thought of a quick replacement for your worry, “I was worried you would get hurt there.”
Mando’s shoulders fell and his helmet cocked to the side. “What?” He questioned. “How would I get hurt? None of the workers there had weapons.”
“How would you know that if you didn’t go?” You whispered to him. Your gaze left his and it dropped to the shape in the center of his chestplate. The crystal shape rose up and down slowly.
“I got information on a bounty there earlier,” he sounded like he was talking to a hurt animal. Gentle. Slow. Calm. “What's the actual reason you’re upset?”
Kriff it.
“I had a panic attack because I thought you went to the brothel. Maybe you would like the worker there more than you like me, I spiraled and thought about how you might not even want me to be here, that you’ll find another partner to be on this ship with you,” your chest heaved and as you listed off your previous thoughts of worry. Your hands shook as they landed on top of Mando’s, and you took a deep breath, eyes meeting his gaze like before, “and toss me away like none of this meant anything to you.”
Mando is quick. He flipped his hands to grab one of yours and tugged you into the hull. Kneeling, he opened a cloth bag, one from the market, and dug into it to search for something.
He actually went to the night market. You thought, now you look so clingy. So needy. He was just going to show you what he got to prove he went.
He turned and held his hand out. Sitting on top of the golden skin on his palm was a bracelet.
The bracelet from the market.
“I saw you looking at these, you looked for a long time and then put them down,” He stood up and set his gait to slow steps as he made his way over to you.
You laughed nervously, accompanied by a small sniffle, “Sorry yeah, I know I just should have been getting the stuff we needed. You didn’t have to go back and get it for-.” Mando raised a finger to halt your speech and continued what he was saying previously, “you put them down. You had two bracelets.”
“They had lots of them that I liked…I had two that were a tie and I just decided to get neither-.” Mando cut you off again.
“You were holding one bracelet consistently and then picked another in a bigger size,” you froze at his words. Dank farrik. Now he was going to think you’re super clingy.
“I wasn't completely sure who you wanted to wear the bracelet, but I took a guess.” He pulled his long sleeve past his elbow and revealed his bare forearm. Strong. Capable. Solid. And a matching bracelet was donned on his wrist.
Your cheeks radiated with heat as he took your wrist and put your bracelet on you. His warm fingertips brushed the soft skin of your wrist, sending chills throughout your body at the meticulous skin-on-skin contact.
Once the bracelet was secure around your wrist, Mando dipped his head and looked down at the floor. One of his hands gripped the underside of his helmet, and the other held onto your wrist. Your breath caught in your throat at the gesture. He quickly lifted his helmet to release his mouth, and he pressed three kisses on your wrist where the bracelet was. Mando’s lips were soft and timid, his hand caressing the skin on yours. Silver from his beskar helmet blocked your view, but Mando sealed his helmet and brought his eyes underneath the visor to look into yours.
“This means everything to me.”
Supply Run - Exchange (part three)
#pedro pascal#mando#the mandalorian#mando fic#din djarin#din djarin x f!reader#din djarin fluff#din djarin smut#din djarin fanfic#the mandalorian smut#the mandalorian fanfic#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#mando x reader#mando x you#supply run#thepascalofus#thepascalofus fic#mando fluff#mando smut#the mandalorian fanfiction
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Din Djarin: Languid
Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (she/her; afab)
Excerpt: “Can we do this now?” he asked, resting his nose against your cheek. His breaths coated your face. “Please?”
You smiled, burying your hands in his hair. Your eyes drifted closed in bliss. “Yes, Din. I want you. Right now.”
He kissed your cheek and placed your hands back on his armor. “Please get this off of me, and please keep me awake.”
And you did.
Warnings: sleepy, love-filled sex between a married couple. Wife!reader, grogu’s asleep, unprotected sex, mostly just kissing and feeling up. NOT breeding kink. A bit of cockwarming.
A/N: Once again, Happy Dincember everyone. I cannot explain how grateful I am for almost 3,000 followers without crying.
If you’d like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated :)
Pedro Masterlist
(GIF from Pinterest)
The familiar scuff of his boots on the Crest floor pulled you from REM sleep into barely languid, and the heat of your body from the cot’s covers warmed just so.
Your riduur was home.
Due to how out of it you were, it took you a few moments to realize that no, this wasn’t a dream. This was real. The two-day mission turned five, turned seven, turned nine, turned twelve was finally over, and your numb body somehow found the strength to prop itself up and drape yourself with the blankets.
You sat like that, all wrapped up in your cocoon, smiling to yourself with your eyes closed, for a few moments. You then stood up slowly, taking the blankets with you, and squinted your way out of the bedroom. Your eyes were no wider than slits, and you thanked the maker for muscle memory.
You swallowed the sleep from your mouth and rounded the corner, feeling your muscles ache with stretch, still in a daze. Your head was beginning to swim with dopamine, and with one last yawn, you made it to the cock pit.
The sight before you halted you instantly.
There was your husband, wrapped in wealth and impenetrable metal, leaning over Grogu’s tiny bassinet. He must have gotten fussy when Din opened the airlock, and Din had immediately taken care of it.
You’d have to thank him for that later.
He sat Grogu up, patting his back, and fed him small bites of maple bar. His favorite.
“That’s it buddy,” he whispered. “Swallow. There ya go.”
You stood and watched this encounter, soaking it in. It was moments like this that you missed the most when he was gone—moments so domiciliary and domesticated that they etched into your heart implicitly. These moments were so wrapped in rarity that you could not even daydream about them or yearn for them, because you didn’t even know they existed. Like watching a Mandalorian brush his teeth, or chop an onion, or change the sheets, or breathe at night. They were the memories you would recall when you were old and graying, unable to describe them in a way that did them justice.
You wrapped yourself tighter in the blankets, just watching and basking in the glow of it. Eventually Din laid Grogu down, tucking him in, and traced his face with his leather-bound glove.
“Goodnight buddy,” he whispered, and turned to you.
You looked up at him in all his sheathing, and smiled.
“Hi,” you whispered.
“Hi,” he whispered back. He smelled of metal and woods with a hint of gunpowder. In the nearly pitch black of the room his shoulders still appeared as broad as ever, his armor was caked in mud, and his weapons belt hung a noticeable amount lower than usual.
You took a moment to soak in the fact that you would look at him like this for the rest of your life.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, moving closer to you.
“You didn’t,” you replied, “your boots did.”
His chuckle underneath the modulator was nothing like it was out of it, but it was enough to bring you home.
“You know I like being up for you when you get back,” you said, looking up higher at him as he came closer and closer. The warmth of the blankets and increased blood flow were not the only things warming your insides now. “Let me be your docile, obedient wife for once.”
You could feel the smirk on his face. “Yes. Obedient and docile, perfect for you.”
He made it to you, wrapping his hands around your waist. Your hands laid on top of his cooled beskar chest and chills etched up your spine as you looked up at him with a smile.
He pressed his forehead firmly against your own. The smell of forest and frost on him engulfed you. “My wife is none of those things.”
You hummed. “No, she isn’t.”
He began slowly walking you backwards into the bedroom, as if you were swaying in a dance, and your hands crept up to his helmet.
“Why didn’t you wake me up when the kid was fussy? I could have taken care of him.”
His gloved hands trailed up your back and the exhaustion in his voice was present. “I missed him. Wanted to take care of him.”
You smiled and pressed a kiss to his visor, tasting a mix of ice and salt that burned your chapped lips. “Okay.”
The back of your knees hit the bed frame and you stopped, creeping your hands underneath Din’s helmet.
“If you take this thing off me I’m not going to be able to keep my mouth off you.”
He said it so nonchalantly, as if that was a normal thing to say, and the fatigue of his voice and body language liquified you even more. Your still drowsy state was not helping matters.
You felt euphoric, in a perfect state of conscious and unconscious, like you were still in a dream. It was paradise.
“That’s exactly what I had in mind,” you said, removing the sheets wrapped around you. You let them fall onto the bed before reaching back up for him, slowly rising the helmet off of his head. The familiar hiss coated your ears as it rose, and the chocolate eyes that were yours forever met your own.
He smiled in the dark, illuminated by the moon. He brought his mouth inches away from yours, breathing in your breaths. “Hi.”
“Hi,” you responded, and he kissed you.
Immediately, the taste and feel of him washing over you threatened to crumble you to the floor. Din hands on your waist were the only things keeping you upright.
He kept you standing like it was nothing.
He kissed you slowly and deeply, taking his sweet time tasting you again. Your hands worked their way up his body, tracing his beskar all the way up to his hair. Your tongue met his at the same moment your nails scratched his scalp, and he pulled away from you to groan.
“Can we do this now?” he asked, resting his nose against your cheek. His breaths coated your face. “Please?”
You smiled, burying your hands in his hair. Your eyes drifted closed in bliss. “Yes, Din. I want you. Right now.”
He kissed your cheek and placed your hands back on his armor. “Please get this off of me, and please keep me awake.”
And you did.
Piece by piece, you disrobed the Mandalorian from his beskar down to complete nudity, watching his eyes open and close as he began to drift to sleep as he stood. A few times you had to lean him onto you to prevent him from falling, and he kissed around your pulse point every time. Whispering gibberish.
Finally you squatted down to remove his boots, and just like that, he was naked in front of you. His purple under-eyes stood out in the moonlight, as well as a new scar across his abdomen. Your irises coated in worry, reaching up to feel it, but he stopped you.
“Tomorrow,” he said, kissing you more passionately than he had all night. “Tomorrow.”
Then he disrobed you.
The rough skin on his hands tracing you lit you on fire, boiling you enough to keep you conscious. He was the slowest with your panties, pulling them down your thighs like an art form. You scratched your nails down his warm back, and that seemed to speed him up.
As soon as the fabric hit the floor Din lifted you into his arms, laying you down flat on the cot before crawling overtop of you.
“Din, you’re tired, I can—”
“No,” he said, burying his head in your neck. “Wanna be close to you.”
You couldn’t say no to that.
He took the sheets you had discarded and covered them over the two of you. You could see nothing else but him, and you were completely surrounded by the scent and warmth of his skin.
“Maker I missed you so badly,” he said before kissing you hard enough to make you whine. You pulled him as close to you as possible, tracing his body as he kissed and kissed and kissed you, memorizing your mouth. The passion and heat in you were rising, and with one trace down his haired chest with your nail, he pulled away. He traced his hands over your face, pushing your hair away to see you fully. You traced his face too, noticing his scruff had turned into a full beard.
You always liked that look on him.
“Y/N,” he whispered. “My Y/N.” He spoke as if you were unbelievable
“I’m right here,” you responded, holding his face in your hands.
“I just want to be inside of you,” he whispered, almost pathetically. “Can we just skip to that part?”
You smiled, laughing loudly, and kissed him quickly. “Yes.”
He huffed a laugh and kissed you again, nice and slow, like he had been the whole night.
He kissed you and felt you for so long that you didn’t know if he would make it. His movements slowed and slowed as he went on, touching you and tracing you so meticulously it was like he was painting you from nothing.
Finally, with a firm kiss to your jawline, he entered you tortuously. You exhaled in pure pleasure, and your body threatened to rapture already.
He was a dream come true.
Din halted when he was as deep as he could go and tucked his head into your neck. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika riduur.”
You kissed the side of his head. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, adol akaan.”
And that’s when he started to move.
As he moved in and out, in and out, in and out, dragging each thrust on and on to feel every inch of your folds. He felt all around you, re-memorizing you; how you skin felt, how your body had changed, and the exact rhythm of your heart.
Tears spilled from your eyes as he moved, and you moaned his name over and over, grateful for the return of it in your tongue.
“Keep—keep doing that, saying my name,” he said as he moved. “Almost forgot I had it.”
You repeated it over and over again, clenching around Din when he began to shake. He swirled his shaking fingers around your clit, and with one last clench, the both of you went.
The covers above your heads did little to hide the sound of your synchronization, and it was then that you really started to drift. Din was so warm inside you—filling you up completely—and his body had you trapped in a cave of sheets and serenity. You were perfectly satisfied with your husband safe and sound in your arms, and your body began to fail you.
You felt Din prop himself up and press kisses around your face and your mouth, and your lips tingled with the intensity of it all. He rubbed his nose against yours and pecked your lips before laying back on top of you, pulling the covers raised above his head off as he did. You were hit with fresh air, and were inches away from bliss before Din whispered one last thing in your ear.
“Goodnight, docile and obedient wife.”
You drifted off with a smile.
None of this was a dream. This was real.
Your riduur was home.
Mando’a Translations:
Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika riduur: I love you/ I will know you forever, my sweet wife.
Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, adol akaan: I love you/ I will know you forever, even through war.
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Ambrosial
summary: he knows your scent— he knows your heart and now he knows your people.
pairing: din djarin x fem!black!reader
contents: longing, pining, fluff, cultural differences
wc: 2.5k
an: this has been a longggggg time coming but this one's for you @cptn-nash and for all of the black women who feel left out of fandom. there’s always space for you.
pedro characters masterlist
The crest always smells like citrus with a hint of cinnamon these days. If Din closes his eyes he can imagine himself standing in an orchard with you by his side.
The warm, fresh smell is all thanks to you— to your hair, your people, and your culture. All things that you hold close to your heart and in turn, Din tries to respect. But, it is not lost on you that he cannot understand the importance of hair to you and your culture completely, not when his is hidden inside of a helmet day in and day out.
What he does know is how much he enjoys yours— watching the way your curls move when you walk, how they pile into the crown when you tie them up, how a bit of them spill out of the silk scarf you wear at night when Grogu refuses to sleep without you and the two of you take over his bed. He has to tear himself away from the sight of you—dark skin lit up in the moonlight and his foundling in his arms— slinking off to your bunk. But there is a reward when he gets there— the sweet, concentrated scent of you rests on the fabric of your pillow.
In the deepest recesses of his mind, there’s a place where there’s just the three of you. Din holds to his creed, unwaveringly so, but here there is no worry of exile. No worry that you or Grogu will be taken away from him on one of your adventures through the galaxy. There is just you, holding his son, curls blowing in some light evening breeze. There is just him, wrapping his arms around the both of you, his nose pressed into the crown of your head as he is able to succumb freely to your scent. He doesn’t let himself go there often, not when he is so unsure that he will ever have it.
The two of you are charted for a bounty when you ask him to make a detour that is quite out of the way— you need something for your hair. And while he’s more than happy to make sure your needs are met, he has to ask.
He glances back at you, his voice soft and not unkind as he asks, “Could you not use my things?”
If you didn’t share the fresher with him you doubt he even had things. He does, though they aren’t as intricate as yours. There are worse things than smelling like the Mandalorian, yes but proper hair care is sacred to you and your people.
You smile at him, shaking your head, “No, it doesn’t work like that. There are specifics, rituals, ingredients.”
“And it is…strict? Necessary?” You can practically hear the confusion in his voice, his lack of understanding.
“As necessary as this,” You murmur, leaning forward and raising a hand to cup the cheek of his helmet.
He blushes within the space of his helmet, unable to bite away the grin that spreads across his face. You and Din teeter on the edge of more— never explicitly naming or acknowledging any of the affection that passes between you, but undoubtedly knowing that the other is devoted. There’s something particularly sweet about his dedication without words. There is no doubt in your mind that he cares for you, but with this lifestyle, with his creed, neither of you make any move to change your relationship.
This is enough. It has to be.
When the silence sits thick between you for a beat too long, you start to ramble, “Like I told you before, hair is integral to our culture, it helps build every facet of relationships in my village. It sounds silly, but it's the basis of community. We would not be nearly as devoted to each other without hair at the center.”
He hums, delicately taking one of your curls in between his fingers. He studies it closely through the dark t of his visor, noticing the intricate way that it spirals. You let out a soft, shaky breath– feeling his eyes on you is something you’ve become used to, but the effect it has on you never dissipates.
“I could show you,” You murmur shyly, feeling the fascination in his gaze.
“Show me?” He repeats cautiously.
“Show you how my momma taught me to take care of it,” You suggest. After a moment of hesitation, you add, “Show you my home as you’ve shown me yours.”
The two of you have gone to Mandalore—just once, to show Grogu what should be his home and collect water from the sacred waters. You’ve always tried not to put too much stock in Din letting you tag along— where else were you meant to go if you’re his travel partner?
His helmet tilts, shock in his sandy voice, “You would take me to your home?”
You gaze with the black void of his visor breaks for a moment before you look up at him through your lashes, “Of course I would, so that you could see where I come from, how I’ve become who I am. You let me see yours. Would you like to see?”
He nods, finally releasing the curl that he was still holding between his fingers.
“Chart the course and then I will show you why I take so long in the fresher,” You say, backing out of the cockpit.
He meets you there just as you finish turning everything the correct way, labels up. You keep it all in a bin that you take to and from the fresher, not wanting to take up too much space.
You can’t see his shock but you can hear it in voice, in the way he tilts his helmet as he says, “This is…a lot.”
You laugh softly, before explaining, pointing at various bottles as you do, “There are different products for different times of year, holidays, special occasions.”
“Special occasions?”
“For one’s birthday or wedding. Even for a funeral. All milestones in life, from beginning to end.”
“And you must have all of it at all times?”
“You are to be prepared for all of the days of your and your neighbor’s life. If we were to meet someone from home during our travel and they were in need of something, then its my duty to help. It is our custom. Our way so to speak.”
Din hums in understanding. He understands living life a certain way more than anyone you’ve ever known. He starts to understand the importance— but this is just the beginning. He wants to know everything about your people, to fuse the two of your cultures into something loving and uniquely your own.
—
It takes the night to make it to your home, allowing you to arrive in the morning. You’d sent a communication to your mother as soon as Din had agreed, and she had excitedly responded, eager to see you after such a long stint away. Eager to meet Din, though you’d given her no indication that things had progressed romantically between the two of you.
When you wake in the morning, you find Din a little nervous to have the conversation that made you toss and turn most of the night. You know that he’s quite fond of Grogu, that he loves him with all his heart. You feel the same way, happy to take care of the little creature in any way that you can. It’s a bit confusing, raising a child with Din despite not knowing explicitly what you are. But, you love Grogu. Though you don’t let yourself think about it much, you love Din. You’d do whatever you could to make things easier for the two of them.
But what would your mother think about such an arrangement?
Din tilts his head at you in concern when you inhale a nervous breath, fingers twisting in your lap. He reaches for your hands, steadying them. “What’s wrong? Have you changed your mind?”
You gaze down at his gloved hand that covers nearly both of yours before you shake your head, assuring him quickly, “No, no, I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Then what is it?” He asks gently.
“I know that Grogu is yours, and I’m not ashamed or embarrassed. But, I think it best he stays on the ship while we visit my mother. I don’t want her to assume anything that would make you uncomfortable.”
He’s quiet for a moment, but you can practically hear the gears turning in his head. “You were nervous to ask me this.”
You snort, “He’s your son, Din, of course I was nervous.”
“I understand,” He says, squeezing your hand in reassurance. “The next visit, we can introduce him to your mother.”
The next visit. He plans to make this habitual?
“You’re sure?”
“It’s your home. I’m sure if you’re sure,” He declares with a shrug. As if the decision is that easy for him.
“Thank you, Din.”
He simply squeezes your hand again before clearing his throat, saying that he needs to make sure Grogu is taken care of before you two land.
—
When the ship door opens, you and Din are met with a plethora of people, headed up by your mother. Din can’t help but notice how much of her is in you— the same rich color of your skin, the curls though they are greying. Some of your beauty comes from her, and some of it is uniquely you.
She gathers you into her arms immediately, hugging you tightly. She guides your curls back so that her lips are at the shell of your ear, “We’ve missed you. I’ve missed you.”
“I know, mama. I’ve missed you too,” You whisper back, pulling back to give you a watery smile.
She turns her curious gaze to Din, looking him up and down. “This is who you’ve been traveling with. A Mandalorian who will keep you safe.”
Din nods his head, and you about melt with embarrassment at the way she’s sizing him up.
“Yes, mama, this is Mando. He is my—“ You start to say but Din cuts you off smoothly, extending his hand to your mother.
“Her partner. Din, Din is my name,” He murmurs, taking her hands into his.
The smile on your mother’s face matches your own— wide, flustered and accompanied by warmth that spreads through your entire body. He may be encased in metal but he can always make a woman swoon.
“Din. Thank you for taking care of my daughter.”
“Mama,” You scold, giving Din a nervous smile.
“It’s a pleasure,” He murmurs to her, his voice just as sandy and nonchalant as ever.
Your mother starts to guide you towards the villages, and Din offers you his arm which you take readily. You’re happy to walk in silence as your mother catches you up on all the happenings— who’s married, given birth, changed professions, or died. All of it goes in one ear and out the other as you try to digest what’s just happened.
He gave her his name. What more is to come?
Eventually, the two of you are sequestered in a corner of your mother’s house as she helps another woman with her hair when Din turns to look at you. You raise a brow at him in question.
He leans closer to you, speaking in a hushed voice, “One day you will teach me to care for my own appropriately.”
“What do you mean?” You whisper back.
You feel his gaze meet yours through his helmet as he says, “When you are truly mine and I am truly yours.”
Your heart skips a beat before pounding rapidly in your chest. You stare into the dark t of his visor, mouth open in shock. He’s full of declarations today, ones that you had hoped would be true but never got your hopes up for. He simply nods his head at you, one of his gloved hands coming to tangle with your own.
Meeting your mother has clearly changed things— all that’s been left unsaid is now cleared up with just a single sentence from him.
His hand doesn’t leave yours as your mother shows him around the village, introducing him as your partner to everyone she can get to speak to her. Din feels a little sheepish, heat creeping into his cheeks by your mothers candidness, by the curious stares of those she speaks to. You keep him close, answering any questions and doing all of the talking if anyone is curious enough to bypass your mother and speak to the two of you.
You don’t even let go to hug those you recognize, holding onto his hand firmly as you wrap an arm around a few of those you encounter. At this, Din’s flush deepens, butterflies in his stomach.
You make him feel like just a man— the most ordinary man in the best way— like he isn’t bound to his creed or this life of hunting. You make him feel like he’s just your Din. A man so desperately in love with a woman that he’d do anything she asked and then some.
Your mother sends you home with droves of oils and butters and soaps. Some of them are for you, but by the labeling and color you can tell that many of them are for Din. There’s a variety, as with the helmet she couldn’t properly see the texture of his hair and gather the corresponding products. It’s your mother’s way of telling you she approves and you hold her tight, murmuring a soft thank you as you bid her goodbye.
The two of you unpack Din’s things, setting the bottles and containers up in a perfect line. You even fetch your own, adding more clutter that both of you are immediately quite fond of. It means more than Din could know, but he’s starting to learn.
He invites you into his bed that night and unlike all of the previous times he stays, gathering you into his arms in the pitch-black space. For the first time, you feel him. He buries his nose into your hair the way he’s always dreamed about.
That night once you’re asleep, Din heads to the fresher, curious about all of the things your mother had sent off with the both of you. You spent a lot of time here earlier— even more than usual. As soon as he’s inside, he sees why. You’ve labeled everything step by step and added his name to the products that are his.
He spends an ungodly amount of time under the water, closing his eyes as he succumbs to the sweet smells. And though they all smell wonderful, he finds himself reaching for your things. He wants to be surrounded by your scent.
When he slides under the covers beside you later, he smells like citrus— that telltale hint of cinnamon. He smells like you. One day, he’ll let you bury your nose in his hair so that you can smell him too. Until then, his helmet is filled with the scent of you and he will have it no other way.
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