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kyberblade · 17 hours

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Back To You - (Din x Reader) Epilogue/Prologue for Close To Home

A/N: IT IS HEREEEEEEE!!! So sorry it took so long. So much happens. I was going to divide this and then I thought, “Hmmmmm…. No.” As one does. Another note at the end to avoid spoilers. Seriously. Don’t read it until you’ve read the whole thing. You’ve been warned. I have spoken. This is the way. Yada yada yada. …..You just jumped forward and came back didn’t you? 🙄 Also, once again, there is some lore in this that @writerlyhabits wrote in a fantastic short, and I loved it so much, I asked if I could use it.

There are parts of this you won’t understand if you didn’t read the Dincember 2022 Drabble Carry You With Me, but they are very small mentions, you will be fine as a whole if you don’t want to read it. But why wouldn’t you? 🥺

(This takes place two years after the other one, and goes to the beginning-ish of episode 1/5 of TBoBF, Return of the Mandalorian.)

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, (Nobody touch me he’s still here okay?) and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Helmetless Din. What? Who said that? 😬 Typical show violence. Swearing. Space swearing. Grogu is a menace. Arguing? Mando’a. Show dialogue, so spoilers? (But if you’re here, you know how this works.) Return of past characters. Tears. Shenanigans. Lots of banter. Throwback to chapter one with dialogue repeats but in the best™️ way, and copious amounts of me trying to work in back to you as a normal thing in a sentence bc why not.

Word count: 16,655 (I said what I said.)

As always, thanks to @grippingbeskar for encouraging me, looking over this for me, and being the one to introduce me to Din fanfiction in the first place, getting me hooked. You are fantastic and I always love our chats.

And for @fordo-kixed-rex, you deserve so much more than a shoutout for reading all 75 million iterations of this massive chapter from start to finish, and helping me in between. You’re a real one, friend. This series would not have gotten this far without you.

Also a shoutout to @what-the-heckin-heck, @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis, @lloweryourstandardss, and @littlemisspascal for being a sounding board for me over this whole process. (Also to @deceiver-of-gods for all of your help over all the chapters with the Mando’a. I hope I got it right in this one.)

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Xxx

Two years later….

Tatooine was bustling. As always. Vendors with their wares, smells and brilliant sights everywhere you turned. Something new and exciting to pull you in and suck all your credits dry just like the planet's heat stole every drop of moisture….

But it was all nothing without the kid. It was dull and drab without Grogu at your side. His soft babbles, the odd ‘Patu’ he’d throw at the next snack he’d like to steal….

Dank farrik! Turning away from the hanging frogs at the nearest vendor, you swiped at the most recent batch of tears rising to the surface. Sniffling loudly, you melted into the warm hand that came to rest on your back, eyes fluttering shut.

“It’s okay, mesh’la. I miss him, too.” The modulated voice at your ear carried unspoken sorrow of its own, sadness it’d never dare to even whisper into the universe, lest that make it real. If he kept it hidden, secret…. Like his face, nothing in the galaxy could use it against him. Somehow it made him stronger. And you both resented that and wanted to squeeze the life out of him for it at the same time.

“It’d be nice if you’d show it once and a while….” You grumbled, turning toward him but keeping your eyes cast down to stare at the sand.

His hand fell to his side slowly. “What?” Head tilting to the side as he peered down at you in question, barely any space left between you, it leaned the other way when you shook your head with a sarcastic grin.

“Nothing. Forget it.” Your eyes lifted up to meet his visor finally, squinting against the glare of the twin suns. “Got everything?”

Din nodded. “Almost. Just need the-”

His words were cut short when the satchel across his chest suddenly dropped to the ground, the strap cut inconspicuously by a passing Rhodian seeming to casually bump into the Mandalorian only moments before.

You turned to try and find the culprit but Din tugged on your upper arm.

“Forget about him. He’s just the-” Both of you looked down at the ground to find the satchel missing, “-distraction.”

You smirked. “I see.”

As Din’s head began to swivel in search of the thief, you attempted to reach out through the crowd with the Force, searching for the familiar signature of the contents in the satchel.

“How did you not get an alert?”

Now your head was on a swivel. Directly to the Mandalorian. “A what?”

“You know.” He wiggled his fingers like Cara always did when referencing the Force. “Why didn’t you know?”

You rolled your eyes with a sigh, looking back to the crowd. “It doesn’t work that way.” The world weary words you’d said a thousand times felt like a mantra at this point. Then after a moment you added, “I’m not a security system.”

“Well that would be handy,” Din said offhandedly, beginning to walk purposefully in the direction the two of you had come not minutes before.

Stumbling after him, your face scrunched like you’d eaten something sour, you pulled on his upper arm to try and turn him around, but it only stopped him, his head still on a swivel. “Wait, what?!”

Din sighed in frustration. “I don’t know. I’m just looking for the thief. That bag has something impor-”

“Your old armor, I know.” Din’s full attention was on you now, his head tilted slightly in question. “Everything has an energy, that’s a really simplified way of how the Force works. Right now I’m trying to track the signature of your armor.”

“What is it?” He asked hesitantly, his weight shifting to one side.

Smiling softly, you took a step forward, grabbing his hand and pulling him down a side alley toward where you felt the signature grow stronger. “Nothing but goodness, Man- Din. Light and strength.” You stumbled over his name, still not used to using his actual moniker in public.

He chuckled at your fumble, shaking his head in disbelief. “From that dingy old stuff?”

“It’s not the quality of the armor that I’m reading.” You looked at his visor over your shoulder, eyebrow raised. “It’s the quality of the warrior who wore it.” Turning back forward to navigate between the street crowded with lifeforms, one side of your mouth lifted in amusement. “That type of thing leaves an impression.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he finally grumbled quietly. When you looked back at him once again, your brow arched higher than before, he huffed. “How did you know it was there?”

Smiling softly as you held the gaze of his visor, you turned back to face forward, moving a bit faster. “You’re about as subtle as your new armor.” Din let out a soft, annoyed groan. “I saw you packing it back in Peli’s hangar.”

“I can be subtle,” he groused, slowing his steps slightly.

With your own groan, you turned to face him with a toss of your head for emphasis. “Yes. So subtle, Mandalorian. My big, shiny tin can. Now come.” Grabbing his hand once again with both of yours, you began to walk backwards, pulling him along with you. “We have a thief to catch.”

The alley had quieted down, the masses of beings thinned out so it was basically only you and Din, and maybe a handful of beings milling about, using the cross way as a shortcut to somewhere else. No one was lingering, their faces streaking by as they hurried to move on with their day.

“Hold that thought.” Din pulled you to a stop, planting his feet as he turned his head toward a crate on his left. On top of the box sat his satchel, untouched, his armor still causing it to look awkward and lumpy. “We may have just lucked ou-”

A surge of panic behind you caused you to turn toward the source, a small figure darting out of your line of sight as a familiar small voice muttered, “Oh shi-” before spinning around in Din’s hold, his grip around their forearm holding them tight.

“Okay, you little nerf herder, nice try- Sola?” Din’s voice dropped on the name.

You turned to fully face the pair, eyes going wide on the small girl now a young adult, maybe twelve, possibly thirteen years old now.

She looked between the two of you, her expression a mirror of your own, as her body deflated in Din’s hold, her weight going slack in his grip while she cried in disbelief, “It’s you?!”

You couldn’t help the highly intelligent thing that tumbled out of you next. “It’s you?!”

Sola sighed a sigh worthy of a Mandalorian before she grumbled, kicking one foot at the sand path of the alleyway. “I knew I recognized that armband.”

Reaching up, you traced over the ribbons on your left bicep with the tips of your fingers on your right hand, eyes darting down to look at it briefly before they pulled back up to level a stern glare on the girl.

Before anything else could be said, heavy footfalls came racing up behind your little gathering. A female stumbled the last few steps, coming to a stop and collapsing, slapping her hands onto her knees before you could see her face, struggling to catch her breath. You opened your mouth to greet the newcomer, but she held up one finger before you could utter a sound.

Din finally muttered in disbelief, “Cara?”

Your head whipped over toward the figure, eyes wider still. “It’s you?!” A hand came up to rest on your forehead, massaging back and forth as if that would help things sink in and make more sense. Your brows practically knit together in confusion with this new information, one arching up as you stared at the woman. “I’m so confused.”

Standing up, with one last heavy breath, Cara offered the two of you a tired smile. “Following up a lead.”

She held up a hand to stop Din before he could even ask, her eyes closing in mock annoyance. “Long story.” She opened them once again to land directly on you with a wink as Din sighed in exasperation before her attention turned onto Sola, her hand falling to gesture to the adolescent before landing at her side with a graceless slap. “And this little womp rat stole my commlink.”

Din looked down at the girl, giving her arm still in his grip a little shake. “This is Sola.”

The girl shrunk under the stare of three adults.

Cara’s gaze flicked up towards his visor, almost accusingly. “Friend of yours?” You nodded, and she sighed, hands going to her hips, weight shifting to one side. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Sola,” you tried calmly, going over to grab Din’s satchel before it was forgotten in the chaos. “Explain, please.”

“Nothing. It was nothing. I just grabbed hers by mistake, that’s all.” She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

Cara leveled a look on the girl, her tone dry. “Off my belt?”

Sola tried a grin. “Whoops?”

The Marshal lifted the look to Din.

“Don’t do that to me,” he complained. “I didn’t teach her that.”

“Don’t even pretend to look at me next, Cara,” you held up your hand to stop her before she even tried. “I only taught her good things.”

Sola rolled her eyes and tried to tug out of Din’s hold, but the Mandalorian easily held her in place.

“Have a seat,” you offered sweetly, pulling the crate the bag had been on toward you with the Force, and giving her a nudge to sit. “Talk.”

She stared over at the wall behind you, grinning in disbelief. “It was a dare, okay?” Her eyes pulled up to meet yours, their hard stare melting slightly once they did, revealing something vulnerable, something broken. Her voice softened just slightly, but still held the mock vibrato she started out with, making you huff as she continued. “Some kids dared me to take someone’s bag, and I was just unlucky enough to choose you.”

“And my comlink?” Cara tried.

Sola turned to her with a cheesy grin. “That was just bad luck on your end.”

“I’ll show you bad luck,” Cara grumbled, stepping closer to the teen.

You stepped between them. “Cara.”

“What?” She barked, trying to peer over your shoulder at the girl before looking you in the eyes.

“No.”

“She stole-”

“She’s a kid,” you corrected. “Tell me you didn’t do dumb stuff when you were her age. Hell, you do dumb stuff now.”

“You’re one to talk,” Cara grumbled.

You smirked, arms crossing over your chest as your weight shifted to one leg. “Ah, but I travel with a Mandalorian. What’s your excuse?”

Cara scoffed. “I knew him first, if we’re going that route.”

“I’m right here,” Din said, somewhat offended, reaching out to gently push Sola down by the shoulder without a second glance when she went to stand up.

You kept your voice even, mildly distracted as you spoke somewhat flippantly. “Mandalorians who shot their partner in the leg don’t get to talk right now.”

“I didn’t shoot you!” He protested, voice going up at the end in agitation.

“You shot her?” Cara asked at the same time Din spoke, turning to look at him with raised brows.

“I didn’t shoot her!” Din corrected before Cara could even finish, his visor swiveling back to you. “It was a ricochet.” His head tilted to the right as he stared at you. “On Gideon’s ship. The bolt bounced off the droid when she launched at it, and-”

You waved your hand dismissively, gaze landing on nothing in particular across the street. “Same thing.”

“It is no-”

“Ugh!” Sola threw her head back and groaned, staring at the sky with wide eyes, her voice went up with each following word. “This is torture!” Her head lowered back to look between the three of you, eyes narrowed to slits before they fluttered shut and she heaved another heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll talk.” She leaned back on her palms on the crate, her face finally relaxing to something more neutral. “Just…. Stop whatever…. This,” she gestured vaguely with one hand while her nose scrunched up slightly in disgust, “is.”

You turned back to face her, nodding for her to go on, but Din interrupted.

“Later.”

You rolled your eyes as he waved his finger at you in admonishment before landing them back on the girl, smiling softly. “Go on, Sola.”

She hesitated before taking a quick breath and letting it all out on an exhale, speaking quickly. “My parents are diplomats from a planet in the Mid Rim.”

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down, kid!”

Sola glared at you, taking an exaggeratedly deep breath before speaking overly clearly the rest of her explanation. “We’re here to broker peace between the different ruling houses and our world.”

“Hey, if you’re going to have an attitude, we can just leave,” you warned.

“Great!” Sola beamed. “Bye!” She went to rise from the crate but both Din and Cara pushed down on a shoulder on each side respectively, earning a soft oomph! from the teen.

She sighed resignedly before going on. “But as you can probably guess, that goes as smooth as sand in a hyperdrive.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not allowed to do anything. I have to keep up appearances, and stay inside most of the time now because we have gotten death threats after a deal gone bad recently.”

Din visibly stiffened beside her, Cara, too. A chill ran up your spine as she continued.

As she relaxed further back into the crate, her words seemed almost lazy, lackadaisical. “So I started sneaking out. Nothing major, just needed some fresh air, well, it’s Tatooine, so, air.” Her tone went rigid with her posture, the spark in her fading to a dull ember as her volume faded to a mere murmur. Her index finger traced lines along her knee as her eyes followed the invisible trails it made. “Then I met them.”

“Who?”

Sola met your eyes, almost startled when you asked, like she’d forgotten people were listening. She shrugged one shoulder, her eyes dropping back down to her lap, her tone still soft. “Doesn’t matter. A group of kids. They do petty crimes and stuff, I wasn’t going to do anything, but they said they were going to tell the people who had been sending death threats how I was sneaking in and out at night.” Her hand stilled, then began poking at the ankle of her foot tucked up under her absently, her eyes cast down at the ground. “They had been watching me, I guess. Let them know all our weak points in security. If I didn’t do a job for them, then they’d tell….”

“And one job turned into more….”

She nodded at your comment. Her eyes flickering up to meet yours for only a second before they pulled down again.

“Why didn’t you just tell your parents and beef up security?” Din’s voice was in planning mode.

Sola peered up at him, squinting against the suns’ light. “And prove I’d let them down?” She looked down at her lap, fiddling her thumbs. “Sneaking around, been committing petty crimes? Would you have done that?”

Din looked at the ground, his voice quiet. “Probably not.”

“Give me my comlink,” Cara said, holding out her hand toward the girl.

You huffed, arms crossing over your chest. “Really, Cara? You hear all that and you’re still banging on about your damned-”

Once the device was in her hand, she took a few steps away and spoke into it in a professional voice. “This is Marshal Dune. Please call off the search. It wasn’t stolen, I just dropped it. Sorry for the confusion.” A male voice you couldn’t quite make out garbled over static on the other end. “Yeah, I’m fine,” Cara replied, turning to face the three of you. “Also, I’m going to take off the rest of the day. Found some booths I want to wander through. We’ll pick up our meeting tomorrow. Yeah. See you then.”

She made her way back over, clipping the comlink to her belt. “I just bought us about twelve hours. What’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Sola looked between the three of you with wide eyes.

You smiled. Her gaze was up and off the ground for the first time this conversation. And it was full of hope.

“Of course,” you said, smiling gently. “Nobody messes with a member of our family and gets away with it.” Sola grinned at your words. You’d do pretty much anything to keep it there. “Now, let’s go scare some thugs, shall we?”

Xxx

“Now, I know that you packed it,” you said, standing in the fresher of the Crest, voice jiggling as you hopped slightly to pull the armor higher up your chest. “But I don’t know why.”

“Oh, the Jedi is stumped, is she?” Din’s sarcastic amusement was muted through the door, making you roll your eyes.

Setting your weight to one hip, you pressed the button, and the durasteel barrier hissed open to reveal your Mandalorian leaning against the frame. His arms across his chest as he waited for you, his posture easy and relaxed, he looked like a growth on the walls of his ship.

Cara and Sola were out in the hangar with Peli, their voices faintly heard along with the annoyed bleeps and bloops of R5 as they echoed off the stone walls and up the open ramp.

“Not stumped,” you countered quickly, walking around him to the middle of the cargo hold as you pulled your gloves on, chin held high as you chose your next words with care. His visor followed you as you went. “Just…. Curious.” You finally landed on with a huff, looking down at your hands as they fiddled mindlessly before adding on a mumbled, “And I’m not a Jedi.”

Din pushed off the wall, his head shaking gently in disbelief as he walked toward you slowly. “I was going to have Boba melt it down and forge it into something better.” He stopped somewhere behind you. You were purposely not paying attention, trying not to get distracted and make sure your armor was set up correctly, only faintly registering the absence of the soft thud of his boots on the metallic floor of the Crest right behind you before he went on. “I don’t know where the armorer is right now, and it’s not full beskar anyway, so any smith could do it, but I trust him.”

“Something better?” You turned to face him, head tilted to the side as you clicked your vambraces into place, their gears whirring to life. Stumbling back an inch as you startled, his chest plate brushing against your nose he was so close, you reached out to swat his arm lightly in annoyance, muttering a Don’t do that and shaking your hand out to the side with a grimace after it pinged off his beskar. Craning your head back to look up at him properly, you couldn’t help the small grin when you found him already peering down at you. “Like what?”

Din’s head tilted just so to the right. “Something for you.” He didn’t miss a beat.

Your eyes widened slightly before they narrowed to slits. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

He was smiling. You could tell by the lilt in his voice as he leaned into the tilt of his head, his body following and started down the ramp. “You know me so well.”

Reaching out, you grabbed his cape. “Nu-uh. Not so fast, Tin Can. Hold up.” Pulling him back to you, though he gave very little resistance, you leaned around to look into his visor when he was a few inches away, his hands on his hips in mock annoyance. “You don’t have to do that.” Your voice had gone soft. He turned to face you fully. “I know that armor is important to you.”

“So are you.”

You grinned. “Smooth, Shiny. Real smooth.”

Din shrugged one shoulder, his hands falling to rest at his sides loosely. “I have my moments.”

You nodded, starting down the ramp, and talking over your shoulder. “And they are few and far between.”

Din scoffed. “Lucky for you. You couldn’t handle me at full throttle.”

Grinning, you looked down at your vambraces and twisted them a bit. “That sounded like a threat.”

“It’s whatever you wanted it to be, mesh’la.”

“You look like a Mando.” Sola’s voice pulled your attention away from the man at your back before you could reply.

“What? In beskar?” You gestured to the armor down your body. “No.”

The young girl rolled her eyes at you.

Grinning, you reached up to adjust your scarf tucked in to make the armor fit a bit better, and noticed her posture go rigid.

“You kept it,” she mumbled, pointing lamely toward the blue material around your neck.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just….” She pulled at her flowing poncho, revealing her bright pink scarf, still vivid as ever, tucked away underneath, close to her heart. “I have mine, too,” she amended softly. “I keep it hidden so it doesn’t get dirty or torn.”

“Kind of like my armband….” You mumbled, closing the last few steps between you before reaching out to softly roll the fabric of her scarf between your thumb and index finger as she traced the ribbon on your bicep with the tips of her own.

“I still have no idea what hyperspace looks like,” she mused, staring at the glittering fabric with a sad smile. “I was so little when we came here, and my parents wouldn’t let me anywhere near a cockpit. I’ve only ever been in a cabin while the ship was moving. No viewports….” She met your eyes again, hand falling to her side. “Supposedly we flew beside some purrgil and even then they wouldn’t let me look.”

Letting your own hand fall to your side, fiddling with the air aimlessly, you held her gaze. “Why not?”

Sola shrugged. “Not sure. They said something about safety at the time, and I just never pressed it, but now it just feels suffocating.”

“I know it’s annoying,” Din chimed in softly from behind you, his shadow looming over the young girl in the dying sun’s light, “but I would give anything to have my parents be overbearing one more time.”

Sola’s eyes flew up to the Mandalorian. “What happened to them?”

“A story for another time,” he said stoically, turning to the right and going deeper into the hangar. “Let’s confirm the plan.”

You turned with Cara and Sola on your left to head that way, Peli falling in step on your right as the droids followed along behind.

“They aren’t around anymore. It happened when he was very young, about the same age as when we met you. That’s why he became a Mandalorian. That’s all I’ll say,” you offered quietly. “The rest is his story to tell.”

The first stars were twinkling overhead as the sky said good night in brilliant shades of red and orange.

Once your party had circled around one of Peli’s many cluttered tables off to the side, the top of it littered with ship parts, Din turned to you.

“Gar beskar'gam jate slanar?” (“Your armor good to go?”)

You nodded. “Elek. An jate.” (“Yes. All good.”)

Sola turned her head slowly up toward Cara, one brow arched in confusion.

The Marshal slowly shook her head, eyes closed. “They do this….”

“Do what?” You asked, brows knit toward your friend.

Cara leveled you with a look. “Start speaking in any one of a thousand languages none of the rest of us know.”

R5 started beeping animatedly, trilling as he wheeled back and forth on his treads excitedly, and ended on a raspberry, making you and Peli laugh.

“Oh, great,” Cara rolled her eyes, “even the droid’s are in on it.”

BD and Treadwell made their way into the circle, the Pit droids not far behind, all of them chattering away as they approached you until Din sent a blaster shot pinging off of a piece of scrap pipe over in a corner.

The droids all screeched before going silent, freezing in their steps as Peli cried in protest, “Hey! Watch it!”

“Yeah, we don’t want another ricochet,” you mumbled, adjusting your armor for no good reason besides looking down and away from his judgemental visor.

Cara and Sola snickered from their spots across the table from you, the weight of Din’s stare beside you nothing short of stifling.

“If you stare any louder, Din, they may ask you to be quiet all the way on Coruscant,” you muttered quietly, adjusting your vambraces needlessly for the umpteenth time to hide the growing smirk across your face.

“I’ll just tell them it’s because of you, they'll understand. Garner sympathy.”

Only your eyes lifted up to glare daggers at his visor, his head tilting to the side teasingly as he held your gaze.

“The plan?” You groused, looking across the table with a sigh as your weight shifted to one side - away from the Mandalorian.

His tone was light, as if it held a smile, while he laid out the steps of the plan one more time. “Sola said they would be meeting her back at the market in an hour. She meets them as planned. The three of us follow her, and stick around in the shadows, as inconspicuously as possible-”

“Says the man who’s a walking mirror.”

Din didn’t even bother to look at you, only sighing at your remark, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort before he went on. “From there, we follow them back to their base of operations. From what we’ve heard, shouldn’t be too hard to get into. We get in, cause a little chaos, get them to release Sola from this…. Contract, then we leave as quietly as we came.”

“No one dies.”

Cara nodded at your words, Din nodding once in agreement, his body going stiff at your next statement.

“Even if we run into a Jawa.”

He took a deep breath to begin to protest, but you held up a finger to stop him, mocking his words from earlier.

“Later.”

Xxx

Spotting the culprits was easy enough. They weren’t sly about anything as they paraded through the streets with their puffed up chests, smirking as people scattered from them should they get too close. They hassled a vendor or two, shaking them down for a payout, and Cara grumbled beside you, gripping the buckle that showed she was a Marshal tightly through her poncho she wore to conceal it.

Before you could do anything, Din was hot on their heels, handing the vendors a stack of credits to make reparations as soon as the thugs’ backs were turned. They would try and insist he keep it, lightly shoving the money back into his hands, but Din somehow managed to sweet talk them into accepting every time, his head ducked down slightly, hand over theirs in a calming gesture. You wished you could hear what he said.

“I’ve never seen this side of him,” Cara muttered offhandedly. “Caring, soft almost. It looks good on him.”

“Yeah, it does,” you agreed softly. “That’s how he is with the kid. Grogu brought out a side of him I don’t think would have seen the light of day otherwise.”

She elbowed you. “Oh, I dunno. You’re pretty persuasive. Think it’d’ve come out eventually.”

You slid only your eyes sideways to look at her. “Why must you shit talk me?”

“Because if I don’t I’ll simply fade away. It gives me sustenance. I could go days without food, but teasing you? That simply wouldn’t do.”

Turning your head to peer at her incredulously, you spoke in a low voice after a long moment of silence. “I’m going to go stand over there,” you pointed behind you, “as far away from you as possible right now.”

Cara scoffed. “Good. Go. Your beskar'gam is drawing too much attention, anyway.”

With a grin, you began walking backwards down the street, keeping to the shadows. “Aw, you paid attention.”

Your friend glared at you. “Don’t make me regret it.”

A shit eating grin was across your face. “You’re speaking Mando’a….”

Cara huffed, her attention turning back to the street as she mumbled, “Last time I make that mistake.”

Stopping short, you stood up straight. “Aw, don’t be afraid to show your feelings, Cara. Feelings are a good thing. They make us human-”

“If you don’t stop talking-”

“Are you two done?” Din’s voice across the alley from the two of you pulled both sets of eyes his way. “They left a few minutes ago, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, what with your bickering.” His head swiveled between you and the Marshal, judgment heavy through his visor. “Sola is with them, I gave her a tracker, slipped it to her when no one was looking while someone,” he looked at you pointedly, “wasn’t paying attention.”

“I was paying attention,” you groused, voice lowering as you kicked at the sand below your feet. “Just not to that.”

“She was talking about you,” Cara tattled, stepping out of the shadows and into the moonlight, stretching like a loth cat.

“So were you!” You protested, also stepping into the nightlight, making Cara squint as she held up a hand as if to block the glare of the reflection off your armor. Swatting her hand down, you knit your brows at her. “It’s not that bright out here, don’t be dramatic.”

“Children. I’m surrounded by literal children,” Din muttered, turning and walking away exasperatedly.

“There’s no need to be rude,” you grumbled, following after him.

“Then prove me wrong,” he called over his shoulder. “Right now you’re worse than Grogu.” You gasped. “When he needs a nap.” Cara gasped. “And he’s hungry.” You both gasped.

“I take it all back,” Cara stormed past Din, her words brusque and aloof. “You’re the meanest person I know.”

“Person?” Your tone was incredulous as you sped up to fall in step with her ahead of the Mandalorian, head swiveling to land on him with a sly smirk over your next word. “Droid.”

Din stopped in his tracks and sighed, head tilting back to the sky just slightly with a gentle shake. “Oh, this mission is off to a great start.”

When both you and Cara kept walking ahead of him, the bounty hunter finally called out on a hiss, “Hey! Are you two done?”

“I don’t know, are we?” You turned on your heel to face him, hands on your hips as you planted your feet and arched your brows in question, almost accusingly.

Din bit his tongue before he turned this into a whole something else before this entire endeavor even got off the ground…. again. For the third? fourth? time. He’d lost track of how many times they’d gotten off track in the last five minutes alone, let alone today as a whole.

With a jut of his thumb to his left down a narrow alley, he tilted his head that way for emphasis. “Thugs’re that way.”

Both you and Cara hesitated for only a moment, weight shifting slightly from side to side before you dropped your hands from your hips with a huff and headed toward the alley, your Marshal friend in tow.

As you passed by Din, he muttered a low and amused, “Oh wise one.”

“I’ll tell Sola you said so,” you shot back in a low murmur. “She already knows I’m the smart one.” The alley was so small you had to form a single file line, and somehow you were in the front with Cara behind you, and Din pulling up the back.

“She just lets you think that’s what she thinks,” Cara hummed. “We all know it’s me.”

Din snorted. “It’s neither of you.” He shook his head at the two sets of eyes shooting daggers at him over their shoulders as they came to an abrupt stop in front of him. “I’m the one with the map and the tracker, remember?” He tapped the right side of his helmet with his index finger.

“Oh, will you just get in front and lead, you overgrown Tin Can?!” You hissed, flattening yourself against the wall to let him pass, the heat of the day still clinging to the wall at your back.

Cara rolled her eyes as she squished herself, allowing him through, but it was still a tight fit all around between the three of you. When Din passed her, his back against the opposing wall, she grimaced though he moved quickly. “Will you just get out of my face, Shiny?”

“What, you mean you don’t want to get to know me this well?” Din relaxed his weight a little, leaning into her slightly. “I thought we were friends.”

Cara shoved him with one arm toward you, making him laugh as he kept going, stumbling slightly from the impact. “We won’t be if you keep on that thread of conversation, Mando.”

Din stopped directly in front of you, tilting his head sideways as he muttered softly, “Hi, mesh’la.” Leaning his forehead into yours, he chuckled softly at Cara’s over exaggerated gag in reaction.

“I’m trying to be mad at you,” you grumbled, fisting one hand into his cowl as you ignored Cara’s groans, elbowing her in the ribs with your free arm when she continued.

“What was that for?!” She cried in protest.

“Just because I’m happy, doesn’t mean you need to moan about it.”

Her face scrunched in disgust as she looked away at the wall across from her. “Go be happy somewhere else. We have a job to do.”

Din sighed. “She’s right,” and pushed off the wall to get in front.

You held on to his cape from behind him. “No. No, she’s never right.” Cara landed a swift kick to the back of your boot. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For being so wrong all the time!”

“Don’t make me speak Mando’a to you,” you grumbled. “Or how about Huttese? I also know Shyriiwook now, too.”

“How about you speak silence.”

Din snorted at the Marshal’s words from his spot in front of you, Cara huffing out a laugh from behind.

“When all of this is over, you both are gonna pay.”

“You don’t scare me,” Cara scoffed.

Looking over your shoulder, you arched a brow, holding up one hand by your face and wiggling your fingers. “Well maybe I should.”

Her face went pale, her steps faltering slightly as understanding dawned on her features. “You don’t scare me,” she repeated, her voice softer after she swallowed roughly.

You chuckled, turning back to face Din’s cape once again. “The Force works in mysterious ways.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before you could answer, Din cut in, without bothering to turn around, “It's just her way of threatening to trip you. Don’t read into it too much.”

He no sooner said that than he was stumbling forward down the alley, reaching out to brace himself on the walls with his forearms.

“Look at that? My boot also works in mysterious ways.”

“What happened?” Cara asked, oblivious to you tripping Din with the toe of your shoe.

“Gravity. Don’t read too much into it.”

Grinning up at the back of the Mandalorian’s helmet where he had stopped in front of you, you let go of his cape still in your grip. “Careful, Din. There’s gravity there.”

“What did he even trip on?” Cara’s voice was incredulous.

“Air? His ego? Pride…. The options are endless….”

“The foot of an over eager Jedi that’s about to be in her mouth if she keeps talking,” Din hissed, barely looking over his shoulder at the two of you, arms falling from the walls to his sides.

“How do you mean?” You scoffed, following after him as he began to move down the alley again.

“We’re here,” he said with a flourish, the small avenue opening up to a wide street brightly lit with several buildings that dead ended down on the right. With a swooping gesture, he moved to the left, making room for the two of you to step forward beside him, his visor following you closely before tilting to the side. “You’re welcome.”

“She’s right,” Cara mused quietly. “Your ego is big enough for all three of us to trip on.”

“At least it’s well deserved,” Din groused. “I got us here, didn’t I?”

“You followed a map. That was attached to a tracker. A blindfolded bantha wouldn’t have had a much more difficult time….” You said offhandedly, surveying the area.

Din stared at you for a long moment. “That armor makes you mean,” he grumbled.

“It makes me wonderful,” you countered, eyes across the street on a conspicuous crate, narrowing when it jostled slightly. “You’re just jealous that it looks better on me than it ever did on you.”

“Yeah. That’s it,” Din agreed sarcastically, his weight shifting to one side as he followed your line of sight. Pressing the side of his helmet, he immediately went into planning mode. “I’ve got two heat signatures.”

“Matches up with what I’m sensing. Two life forms. A whole mess more inside.” You took your blaster from its holster, its gears whirring to life. “Everyone set to stun?”

Hums of agreement came back at you along with nods in your peripheral.

“I’ll go in on the right while you two take care of whoever is lurking over there,” Cara gestured across the street with her blaster. “Sneak in that side door and start clearing until I find Sola and slip her a blaster, then we’ll find this boss.”

“I’m in,” you agreed, while Din nodded in agreement beside you. “Let’s go, Tin Can. We have some thugs we need to introduce to beskar.”

Xxx

Storming the place was easy. These thieves didn’t know the first thing about defending their home base.

Getting out on the other hand…. That was proving to be more difficult.

You pulled up behind a wall, tucking your arms into your chest as tightly as possible to make yourself a smaller target, your blaster held between both hands at the ready.

“You said this would be easy!” Din yelled from his mirror position across the hall. Well, almost mirror. He leaned on one shoulder, blaster held up in the opposite hand near his head. His whole body looked just on this side of casual.

“I said no such thing. You did,” you countered, trying to mimic his posture subtly. “And on that note, Cara was the one who said you and I should go in together, so this is all-”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Cara’s voice carried from down the hall, the first word elongated as she slid across the floor on her hip to avoid flying blaster bolts to finally land next to you before popping up. “Don’t you dare drag me into this lovers tiff. Nuh-uh.”

Both you and Din spoke in tandem, “This isn’t-”, “We’re not-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sola said dismissively, jogging up easily behind Din, a singe mark on the shoulder of her poncho.

Din stood up straight in an instant, took her arm in his hold gently to examine it, turning her every which way to get a better look. “What happened?”

“Told the boss I quit.” She grinned proudly before it melted into a grimace. “He didn’t take it so well.”

Blaster bolts zinged down the hall between the four of you, streaking the air in vibrant shades of purple and red, even an errant green here and there.

“If I could just use my saber-” you started, cut off by the unanimous voices of your friends.

“No!”

Letting your head lull back against the wall with a gentle thump, you rolled it in aggravation before facing the others again. “And why not?! I’ve saved your asses so many times!”

“Close quarters!” Cara was gesturing with her hands while she spoke, referencing the hall. “Too many people!” She gestured between the four of you. “Laser sword very bright! Very hot!”

You narrowed your eyes at your friend. “I singed one corner of your tunic. One!”

“And that was one too many,” Din countered, popping around the corner to let off a barrage of shots before coming back for safety.

“This was my favorite,” Cara said forlornly, looking down at the smoldering fabric.

“I’ll buy you another one.”

“No you won’t,” Cara scoffed. “You can’t afford my tastes-”

“Can we please focus on getting out of here!” Sola’s annoyed voice rang out louder than the blaster fire, pulling all three gazes her way.

Din was the first to break, turning back to lay down cover fire once again around the corner. “Kid’s right,” he grunted, before letting off a shot that was accompanied by a pained scream at the end of the hall.

“I thought we were set to stun?” You hissed.

Din looked down at his blaster and shrugged meekly, flipping it back to stun. “Sorry. Old habits….”

“I know I am,” Sola said matter of factly, pulling you back to the topic at hand. “Now what’s the plan?”

Stepping a little closer to the corner you were tucked behind, you holstered your blaster. “The plan is for you all to eat your words tonight.”

“What are you doing?” Cara’s worried tone sounded at your back, Din’s incredulous one to your left. “Mesh’la, come on, don’t do something-”

“To save our skins?” You finished for him, looking up into his visor with a determined glint in your eye. “Watch me.”

After taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and stepped out into the hall where the blaster fire had died down just slightly. The few earrent bolts bounced away from you as if they were hitting a force field. Confused whispers from the enemy preceded a pickup in the rapid fire, bolts flying at a new frenzy, none of which came anywhere close to touching you or your friends.

Lifting your hands in front of you, the bolts began to stop, hovering in mid air inches from your face, your hands, some several feet from you. The room glowed with multi-colored plasma bolts hovering above the floor. As the shots died out, silence filling in the blanks left behind, the corner of your mouth twitched up in an amused smirk.

With a small twitch of your index finger, all their blasters were disabled with a tink.

When you opened your eyes, the blaster bolts that hung suspended all immediately flew the other way, back toward the senders, but in such a way that they wouldn’t hit anybody.

Within an instant the group of thieves at the end of the hall were left cowering, curled away from the stranger approaching them from the opposite end of the hall. Some blinked wide eyes while others scrambled back, all of them surrounded by smoke swirling around from the black scorches left behind from the blaster bolts.

“I think we win,” you said calmly, walking toward them slowly.

“Not if I have anything to say about it!” One rogue thief said, jumping to his feet, blaster aimed at you.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you warned, not even looking at him.

When he pulled the trigger and nothing happened, he looked at his blaster in confusion, pulling the trigger a few more times before shaking it incessantly. “Oh, well.” He shrugged. “I have this.” He pulled a spare from the back of his pants.

In two seconds flat Din had stepped forward and shot him with a stun bolt, dropping him to the ground.

“Like I said,” you pulled the active blaster to you with the Force, disengaging the firing mechanism like you had the others before tucking it into the back of your own pants. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You don’t need another one,” Din groaned. “That makes what, seven now?”

You scoffed. “Not nearly.” With a dry chuckle, you shook your head. “Try three.”

“Including the knife?”

“Oh, yeah! The knife. No, that’s four.”

“Guys!” Cara cried, walking up to stand on the other side of you. “Seriously?”

“What?” You looked at her a moment before cutting your eyes toward the thieves still looking on in silence. “I’m just recounting the weapons I’ve won from our various missions! I see something I like, I take it.”

“These guys don’t care.” Cara gestured to them with her blaster.

“No…. But I do.” You turned to look at the punks with a broad grin. “And something tells me they want to keep me really happy. Right?”

They all nodded vigorously. All but one. He got to his feet as he said, “Oh, kark this!” He was no sooner on his feet than Din had hit him with a stun bolt, dropping him into a heap of limbs where he stood.

“At least you remembered to use stun this time,” you threw over your shoulder towards Din, never looking away from the band of thieves still looking on wide eyed at your little party of four.

“Yeah…. But I’ve been known to forget things real fast,” Din mumbled, shifting his weight just slightly to rest easily on one leg. The way he held his blaster would make anyone think he’d gone soft, but you knew if someone made a wrong move, they’d be down in an instant.

“Here’s what's gonna happen,” Cara stepped forward, her Marshal voice in full swing. “Sola over here is out. I don’t wanna hear of any of you within spitting distance of her ever again, do you hear me?”

Most of them nodded, wide eyed at the Marshal. All but one. It’s always one, you thought with a smile and gentle shake of your head.

“And what’re you gonna do about it? Marshal?” The way the punk said her name dripped with so much sarcasm and venom, you were surprised Cara was still standing. If looks could kill, she’d be dead right now. “You don’t even live here, so how are you going to enforce anything?”

To his credit, he looked slightly afraid when you and Din took measured steps forward while Cara spoke.

“I have friends all over. I don’t think you want to find out just how far my reach can go…. Young man.”

Cara winced slightly on the last words and it took everything in you not to burst out laughing. The way her eyes darted over to you, however briefly, with a mighty rise and fall of her shoulders told you she knew she’d never hear the end of this.

He scoffed. “Like I’d believe any of that.”

“But you’d believe blaster bolts levitating in space then flying the wrong way?” You challenged, taking another small step forward.

The kid scoffed again.

“You believe this?” Din was striding forward, his vambraces whirring to life as the flame thrower charged up.

Reaching out with the Force, you disengaged his vambrace as the wall of fire just started to lick at the toes of the boots of the insolent kid.

“Not now, Mando. I think he gets it.” Shooting your eyes over to the kid before looking back into his visor, you saw him glance over to find the teen cowering behind the others, mumbling apologies.

Din strode over to you, keeping his body facing the group of adolescents to make them think he was still a threat, which he was, but you knew him well enough to know he was looking at you now and not them, his head turned just slightly.

“Turning off my vambraces now, huh?”

You shrugged. “What can I say? You shouldn’t be frying teenagers, Din. It’s not nice.”

Leaning closer to your ear, his voice hummed through the modulator, something in his tone different this time. “Later,” he promised again.

You grinned, winking at Cara as she rolled her eyes and walked off with an over dramatically gagging Sola. “Can’t wait.”

Xxx

Back at the hangar, the four of you tried to move as quietly as possible, to not wake a sleeping Peli.

“I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know how I could ever repay you-”

Placing your hand on Sola’s shoulder, you smiled down at her when her big eyes looked up your way. So much like the first time you met her all those years ago. “There’s nothing to thank. That’s just what families do.”

“We help each other,” Cara agreed, stepping up behind Sola and putting her arm around her shoulders. Tilting her head to the side in thought, she added with a grin, “And yeah, sometimes we want to murder each other, too, but….” She looked at Din. “It comes and goes.”

“Mostly comes,” the Mandalorian muttered, adjusting his belt before walking off toward the ramp of the Crest. He stopped at the foot of it, withdrawing a vibroblade from his boot before he turned around and walked back. “Hey, kid.” He offered Sola the blade. “Take care of yourself.”

“You bet I will,” she mumbled around a grin, flipping the blade in her palm with expert precision that had your brow arching. Upon closer inspection, she saw a mudhorn upon the hilt. “That’s the same symbol that’s on your armor….” She looked over at your saber. “And your….”

“Like I said,” you pulled her into a hug. “We take care of family.”

“Where’s my mudhorn?” Cara groused.

Din extended a blaster with a freshly etched mudhorn he had tucked into the back of his belt to Sola as he looked at Cara, head tilted just so. “Hidden with your act of valor. Go find it.”

“You’re mean,” Cara shoved his shoulder.

“You’d get tired of us anyway,” you mused in response to Cara, wrapping your arms around Din’s waist in what seemed an innocent manner, then lightly pinching his side in admonishment, smiling at his slight groan in response. Before he could get his own arm around your waist in retaliation, you pinned it to his side with the Force, smiling up at him smugly when he grunted in unamusement.

“I already have,” she agreed, looking down her nose at the two of you.

“No you haven’t,” Din countered tiredly as he turned back toward the ship, heading up the ramp.

“What do you know?” She called after him.

“Everything!” His voice came from inside the ship overlapping your muttered, “Nothing.”

“Not enough,” you amended with a grin, meeting Cara’s eye as she returned your smile. “He doesn’t know nearly enough.”

“It’s a good thing I love teaching, then.” She laughed, offering you a hug before she turned to leave the hangar. After a few steps, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “You coming kid?”

Sola hesitated in her spot in front of you. “But I don’t…. I don’t wear armor.”

“Verd'ika….” You reached out and rested your hand on her shoulder. “Ad’ika. Cyare'se. Daworir’ika. Ka’ra’ika…. Almost all of my nicknames for you had something to do with little.” (“Little soldier. Little one. Loved ones. Little stink. Little star.”)

“Not so little anymore.”

“I can see that,” you smiled softly. “Tal tomad.”

She pulled a face. “Do I even want to know?”

“Blood ally.” You reached out and pinched her scarf between your finger tips. “Verd ori'shya beskar'gam.”

“What…. What does that mean?”

You smiled. “I need to come with a protocol droid….” She laughed. “Warrior greater than armor. It means armor isn’t everything.” Moving your hand from her scarf to rest on her shoulder once again, you felt Din come to stand behind you, his reflection beginning to morph in Sola’s watering eyes. “It’s who wears it.”

Xxx

As you watched Cara and Sola walk out of the hangar, Din pulled you to the side gently.

“Speaking of armor, you don’t have any now, either.”

Looking down at the armor still very much on your frame, you looked up at his visor and blinked at him once. Twice. “Excuse me?”

He shifted his weight, hands resting on his belt in his default I already explained this pose. “I’m about to meet up with Boba in a few minutes. Need the armor so I can give it to him.”

You matched his posture, ignoring his indignant head roll. “Oh right. For this super secret thing for me I can’t know about.”

Din nodded once. “You got it.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you turned and made your way up the ramp of the Crest, not bothering to turn around as you grumbled, “You’re awful.”

“I know.” His tone was nothing short of beaming.

Xxx

The next day, the two of you were up with the suns and beginning work on the Crest with a handful of Peli’s droids.

The woman herself had appeared after a while, but she obviously was not intended for morning hours.

Peli had disappeared into the shaded depths of the hangar, citing paperwork of some sort, but her snores could be heard from the main landing area.

One thing led to another, and the work on the ship was forgotten in favor of brushing up on footwork with two chosen weapons.

The hanger sung with the clashing of beskar on kyber, his spear standing resilient against your purple blade.

The pit droids were hard at work on the Crest to try and cover up the cacophony of battle sounds rising up into the air.

As it hit a new fever pitch, you and Din drawing close together after some particularly fancy footwork, the glow of kyber straining against beskar painting your faces in a soft illuminated glow as you pulled closer still, you smirked.

“I think that means I win, Mandalorian.”

Din scoffed, his modulator popping with the sound. “Nayc. A’nuhunla,” he drawled, his voice low. (“No. But funny.”)

Pulling back from one another, you huffed out a chuckle as you began to circle each other in assessment, waiting for the other to make the next move. “Give it to me in Basic, Mando.” Disengaging your saber, you stopped dead in your tracks, arms dangling limply by your sides. “I’m too tired to fight and translate at the same time.”

“Gar Jetii’kad,” Din pointed to the now bladeless hilt in your hand. “Nau’ur kad.” (“Your lightsaber.”) (“Light up a saber.”)

“Din-”

But he didn’t let you finish, his hands tightening around his spear as his weight lowered, ready to charge. “Kad’au, Jetii.” (“Lightsaber, Jedi.”)

“Ne'johaa,” you mumbled, igniting the blade and lowering yourself into a ready stance to match. (“Shut up.”)

Once you were set, you stood straight up again, smiling softly when Din let his lowered weight relax as well in aggravation, his modulator hissing in annoyance. “This was just supposed to be for fun. Some training, maybe. Not-”

“Kad,” he almost barked, before launching at you. (“Saber.”)

“Mir’sheb,” you hissed through gritted teeth as you blocked an overhead blow from his spear, squinting your eyes as sparks flew from the impact. (“Smartass.”)

He took a minuscule step closer, pressing his weight into you and making you bend back slightly. His voice was low and mocking, but strained to show his struggle against your strength as you continued to push back. “Only for you.”

With a shout, you pushed him off of you with a last reserve of strength.

“That’s it. That’s it. I’m done.” You held your hands up by your head. “No more.” Twirling your saber as you stretched your wrist, you tilted your head from side to side. “You’ve got some unresolved issues with only using the stun back there at the hideout or something,” gesturing to him with a swooping hand gesture, you ignored his snort and slight shift of weight, “but I’m done with all your nonsense.” Turning away you took a deep breath and disengaged your saber, mumbling under your breath, “Ni copaani buy'ce gal.” (“I want a bucket of booze.”)

The next thing you knew you were flat on your back, sand flying out around you as the Mandalorian stood over you, flipping his spear back to its resting position with a flourish. All you could process as you blinked up at the cloudless sky was heat, grit, and what?

“I think that means I win…. Manda Jetii.” (The state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit.)

Eyes flying to his visor, you had to squint at the glare of the suns off the brilliant metal. You could only blink up at him, taking his hand when he offered it and helped you up. After a shared moment of simply staring at one another, he turned to survey the hangar, repeating your words from earlier. “Ni copaani buy'ce gal.”

It was at that point you noticed Peli’s face.

Her very, very, very distraught face.

Following her line of sight, your eyes went wide as you took in the Crest over your shoulder. Sparks flew, singe marks lined the hull. Did I do that?

A poor little astromech Peli had just acquired was trying to tune up something near the ramp of the ship, and Din, once he turned to survey the damage for himself, spying an unfamiliar droid linking into his ship, let his spear loose without a second thought.

If you hadn't had the mind to divert it midair with the Force right before impact, the droid would be a pile of steaming wires right now instead of a trembling pile of bolts.

The screech of terror it let out as the spear made impact right above its head made you want to laugh, but you stifled it into your hand, turning a disapproving glare on Din when he asked why you did that.

“We don’t murder innocent droids.”

“No droid is innocent,” he grumbled, looking over at the scrappy little astro unit.

“They are until proven guilty.”

“I don’t need any proof,” Din mumbled. “Have all the proof I need.”

“You have nothing.”

Before he could say anything else, the angry mech was rolling toward the bounty hunter with an electrified arm ready to zap him, but you held it at bay with the Force. You also held Din back, snorting when he turned a look on you.

“No.”

Peli somehow materialized beside you, everything about her bewildered and distraught. You let the two arguing tin cans go as you turned your attention to your friend, the final zap from the droid to Din’s thigh before it rolled off not going unnoticed.

Pointing every which way with each new statement, Peli began to protest. “I was- They were- You just-” Her hands slapped down to her sides, her face pulled determinedly. “That’s not fair!”

She turned to her pit droid crew. “Why do I get all the defective droids in this town?” They began to prattle but she cut them off. “You guys couldn’t fix the wrong side of a bantha.”

Reaching out with your mind, a twitch of your foot sideways ever so slightly, and one of the compartments at the back of the Crest flew off, the wiring inside plopping out like the ship had drunk too much spotchka the night before and now had something to prove.

“It’s alright, Peli. It wasn’t all you.”

“You bet your beskar it wasn’t!” She turned a look on Din. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that massive spear sticking out of the side of my ship.”

Din had the decency to look sheepish, turning his gaze to stare across the hangar, hands on his hips.

“Now I’ll have to track down the Jawas to find enough ancient parts to fix this hunk of junk.” She smacked the hull closest to her with her palm, her eyes fluttering shut as a panel fell off to her right with a clatter.

Leveling her gaze on you, a shudder ran down your spine as Peli stared at you in silence. Finally she spoke again. “You. You’re going to help.”

“And you,” she pointed at Din. He pointed at himself in question and she nodded, maintaining the accusing jab of her index. “Yes, you. Mandalorian.” Din tilted his head curiously. “You are going to go to the cantina to look for a job to pay for all of…. this!”

Peli gestured wildly to the sparking Crest behind her.

You winced at the singe marks left behind by your saber, beside the puncture mark from the spear as it had let loose from his hands and flown across the hangar. Its beskar body still stood proudly from the hull, glinting in the afternoon sun.

Reaching up high above her head, Peli jerked it from the body of the ship with a grating screech of metal on metal. Green goo began to shoot from the new opening, coating the sand of the hangar around her feet in several inches in a matter of seconds.

She looked down at it before bringing menacing eyes up to glare at Din.

“I’ll be at the cantina,” he mumbled, turning to leave without anymore fuss.

“I’ll…. Be here, I guess,” you mumbled, catching Peli’s death stare out of the corner of your eye. “Pick me up some of those blue cookies on your way back?”

“Really?” Din stopped, cocking his head at you.

“Yeah!” You shot back. “The kid isn’t here, so I don’t have to share them.”

“Who says I don’t want some?”

You scoffed. “Experience.” Crossing your arms, you stared at him. “Besides, who says I’m sharing regardless?”

Din took a step back toward you, his voice lowering playfully. “I could make you….”

“Cantina!” Peli hissed.

You’d never seen Din move so quickly.

Xxx

Peli had dragged you out to the large rolling fortress of the Jawas after she had given her pit droid crew a stern talking to.

You couldn’t make eye contact with them as you stood just behind her and listened to her admonishments. Their judgmental stares from their single ocular lenses could be felt even across the hangar.

Looking over the wares, you were just glad Din wasn’t here. Jawas would be dropping like flies if he were. He really had a problem.

Bringing your scarf up to cover your face, wrapping it around your head to keep it secure and protect you just a layer more from the suns beating down and sand blowing in the rough winds, you squinted at an old astromech tucked away in the back near the ramp.

“What about that one?” You asked, pointing to it.

The little hooded figure helping you turned, exclaiming something when he realized what you were asking about, then began talking a mile a minute and gesturing even faster.

Holding up your hands, you cut in, “Yeah, yeah, hold on little guy,” your new Jawa friend grunted at the name as you turned to call for help. “Peli! Get over here!” Waving your hand to gesture her over, you hoped it’d help her find you a bit faster.

You saw her curls before you saw her, turning your way and quickly weaving through the junk as her grumbling got closer and closer, but the exact words were never quite clear enough to understand. “What?” She finally asked in exasperation when she was about ten feet away, a power coupling in one hand and…. Something else in the other, you didn’t know what it was, but it had a lot of exposed wires and reminded you of an eyeball on a stick.

Pointing to your little robed shadow, you smiled at her. “Translate. Please.”

With a roll of her eyes, she focused on your small companion, nodding as he went along. “He says you want that R2 unit.” She turned her focus back to you, hands on her hips, eye on a stick still tightly grasped in one hand, “Any particular reason? I have plenty of good droids back at the hangar….” R5 started tweeting and blipping in concern, making her roll her whole head over to look at the droid on her left. “Oh, keep your dome on. I didn’t mean you.” She gestured to the droid with the eye-stick lazily before her eyes cut over to you. “Unless….” R5 let out a mighty whoop before rolling away.

Chirping and blooping from the R2 unit pulled your attention back to the matter at hand, watching in amusement as it rocked from side to side quickly on two of its three legs. Its shiny dome twisted back and forth as it let out shrill beeps and whistles, a lone raspberry cutting off the tirade before it focused on a Jawa coming up to stand beside it.

As the tiny cloaked figure reached out to adjust the restraining bolt on its front, one of the droid’s front compartments sprung open in the blink of an eye, a surge of electricity arcing through the air and making the Jawa scream. The little scrapper jumped back, stumbling as its cloak began to smoke, strings of Jawaese getting lost in the wind as the tiny thief marched back over to the droid and swiftly kicked it near its treads.

“Stop!” You ran over, holding up your hands to try and intervene, turning to Peli with a pleading look on your face.

She tossed the junk in her hands onto the ground, doing a double take for the eye on a stick before deciding against it and made her way over to you, thrusting the odd part into your chest as she passed by. With a roll of your eyes, you tucked it into the bag of parts to make its way back to the hangar that was slung across your shoulders.

The bag was over half full, and getting heavier by the minute, but you’d yet to see anything resembling a part you recognized go into the satchel. At this point you think ninety five percent of what she had picked up wasn’t even for the Crest, she was just exacting her revenge on Din. And you had no problem with that.

Peli tilted her head as she listened to the Jawa go on a tirade. Eyes flickering between the tiny robe with eyes and the droid, she finally looked back over her shoulder at you. “He said this droid is just a problem. It’s memory hasn’t been wiped in too long, so it’s developed an…. Ah, well,” she quirked her eyebrows, her hands landing on her hips as she studied the droid. “A strong personality.”

The R2 unit blooped before zapping the Jawa again, a warbling whistle following after in what almost sounded like a taunt for more.

“Stop,” you said again, taking another step toward the feisty astromech. It was very hard to not smile as you studied the round dome, its light blinking red and white at you rapidly as it scanned you up and down, finding something it trusted enough to calm down. It didn’t zap a third time, but it kept the utility equipped, sending a surge down the line when the Jawa got too close again as a warning.

It reminded you of Din. It even kind of looked like him. You had to really try to contain the smile as you thought of his reaction if you said that out loud.

The head tilt.

The finger.

“Later.”

The body was the typical white of most R2 units, though obviously worn and aged, some pockets of rust peeking through here and there along the edge, along with carbon scoring like it’d seen some firefights. With a darker silver dome, close to the color of your vambraces, you could tell it had received repairs along the line, the contrasting metals denoting different eras in its lifetime.

The bands along its body that contained the attachments and along the sides of its legs were a warm coppery color, while the panels along its head were a dark gunmetal gray that reminded you of the Crest.

Altogether it was a patchwork of parts, but it made something beautiful to you. Like when the suns hit the sand just right and caused a reflection in the distance. This droid was a mirage, a shadow.

“What’s wrong with it?” You interrupted the Jawa currently on another tirade that made Peli look like she was struggling to keep up. Getting down on one knee, still a good distance from the droid, you stared into its lense as it studied you once again.

Your friend turned to face you more fully. “What do you mean, they just told you. It hasn’t-”

“No, why hasn’t it moved?”

Peli asked the question, turning to look at the droid as she listened to the answer, its lense now turned on her.

“He said the tread on the right foot is broken. They have it out here because someone is coming to pick it up to wipe the memory. Its-”

“Not anymore,” you said quietly. “It’s coming with me.” Getting to your feet, you began to walk away, stopping when several Jawa voices began to follow after you, each more insistent than the other. You looked at Peli, brow raised in question.

“They say you can’t do that. It’s already a done deal. Now they’re asking if you want any of the other droids, they have an-”

You turned, looking at the gathering of red glowing eyes blinking up at you expectantly. Keeping your voice even, you made eye contact with each pair as you spoke. “You will release the droid into my care.”

A string of Jawaese was mumbled back to you, which you assumed was just them repeating your words, so you went on.

“Remove the restraining bolt, load it in the speeder, and let us go on our way.”

As they mumbled again, they broke off into groups to do what you said.

Tapping the leader on the shoulder, you held firmly when he turned to look at you. “And it won’t cost anything.”

He nodded before going to join the others.

“How did you….” Peli’s voice dripped with amazement. “Can you-”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me-”

“No, Peli.”

“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms and facing the Jawas as they loaded the droid who whistled happily while they worked. “I’m just saying-”

She stopped when you slowly turned to look at her, brow arched.

“Yeah, no, forget about it. Not important.”

Xxx

As you unloaded the droid at the hangar, once it was down on the ground, you knelt down slowly to inspect its injured foot.

“I’m just going to tilt you a little bit to get a better look, okay?”

The pit droids began lowering some type of harness down to help you, but the droid began to rock back and forth, protesting loudly as its dome swung back and forth.

“Okay, okay,” you held up your hands placatingly, gesturing for the other droids to stop. “No lifts. I’ll do it myself, but you’ve got to trust me. It’ll feel a little strange, but you’re completely safe, I promise. Alright?”

The droid bleeped in agreement after a moment of hesitation, and without further hassle, you nudged it slowly onto its side, floating at the proper angle, held just right by an unseen force. As it moved into the proper placement, the R2 unit blooped an amazed sound.

After poking at the tread for a moment, you wrinkled your brows. “This isn’t broken. What did they mea-”

You were cut short when the tread on the other foot whirred to life where it still rested on the ground, spitting sand in your face in a rapid fire. As you drew back quickly, swatting at the sting settling into your eyes, you just caught a glimpse through your squint of the droid falling the rest of the way to the ground with a screech, your concentration broken.

Before you could really react properly, the R2 unit had popped upright, all manner of Binary curses and colorful language beeping and whistling as it whipped out the zapper it had used earlier on the Jawa, sending a warning jolt down the spine while rotating in a circle to keep all the advancing droids and Peli at bay.

Then it started to lift off with some sort of propulsion, a victorious squeal echoing off the hangar walls that was all too soon followed by the sound of sputtering exhaust. Its lense pointed down, watching it all unfold, a quiver of fear warbled out of its voice box. The flames keeping it afloat flickered then died, sending it hurtling to the ground with a scream.

You were just able to stick out a hand, focusing enough to catch it inches from the ground. “I got you!” As you lowered it the last few millimeters back onto the sand, you let out a heavy sigh, relaxing into the warm earth beneath you with a quietly muttered, “I got you.”

“Well, that was a first,” Peli announced loudly, amused, as the R2 unit looked at you, a spurt of oil suddenly spewing onto the ground as it moaned in distress.

“It’s about right on track for me, honestly,” you huffed, laughing as you got back to your feet.

The droid quaked as you got closer, worried coos softly filling the hangar.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” you spoke softly, coming back onto your knees a few feet from the R2 unit. “That was actually kind of impressive.” You smirked, watching as the trembling stopped. The droid was silent and you smiled a bit broader. “I would expect nothing less, honestly. It’s what I would do in your situation. Hell, I have done it a few times….” The droid whistled softly in amusement.

You laughed, feeling victorious when it wheeled a bit closer to you.

“I have, too. I live a very extraordinary life, my friend.”

A questioning bloop.

“Yes, I said ‘friend’. I consider you that, not anything less.”

A series of beeps and whistles, the red light blinking much more slowly now.

“I do speak Binary. Very observant.”

A raspberry.

You laughed, and it was followed by the closest sound a droid can make to the sound, a series of trills.

“Can we start over?”

The droid wheeled closer, bumping its front foot into your knee gently before wheeling back slightly as if to say, ‘go on’.

You introduced yourself, reaching a hand out toward the droid. A panel sprung open on its front, the zapper coming out without a charge, making you arch a brow at the unit as it tittered playfully. The panel closed before another opened, and a small three pronged metal hand extended, closing around two of your fingers and shaking them in jerky movements as it beeped and blooped away.

“R2-B4?” The droid whistled in confirmation, releasing your fingers and closing the panel. “Can I just call you Bee?” A beep that sounded like ‘yes’ and also meant ‘yes’ in Binary chirped happily, filling the hangar. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bee. How about we get you tuned up, into a nice hot oil bath, run a few diagnostics to make sure you’re running as optimally as you can be, then starting tomorrow we can-”

Some angry bloops and bleeps filled the air, while she rocked back and forth on her feet.

“No, no, no! No memory wipe! That’s not what I meant! I wouldn’t do that to you.” She stopped rocking, but her lense scanned you up and down rapidly, her light flashing between red and white faster than you had seen yet. “You don’t know me yet, so I don’t blame you. But I’m not going to do that to you. That won’t happen so long as you are here. With me. With us. That makes you you. I don’t want just a droid, I want you, Bee.”

Reaching out your hand, you rested it lightly on her dome and an affectionate beep came out quietly.

“I just meant to make sure you’re running as optimally as you can be. You deserve it, friend.”

It was at this point Din came walking back into the hangar. He stopped short when he saw the new astromech snuggled up so closely with you, the disarray of the hangar floor with the spilled oil and obvious scuffle, and Peli with her army of droids behind her and new eyeball on a stick waving around animatedly as she greeted him with a smile.

“Mando! Finally!” She walked toward him. “You will not believe the day we’ve had.”

The look Din leveled on you through his visor was nothing short of stifling. “Try me.”

Xxx

Once Din had calmed down enough to not shoot the new droid on sight, and Bee had calmed down enough to not zap the Mandalorian on sight, you sat down to explain the situation to Din as the astro unit underwent an oil bath.

“I don’t know, Man- Din.” You pulled a face at yourself as he chuckled at the slip up. “It just felt like I was supposed to, and she….” You looked straight into his visor. “The voices stopped when I saw her. Everything did. I don’t know.” Looking down to the table top to your right, you began to fiddle your fingers aimlessly. “I swear you won’t have to-”

“Okay.”

“Now don’t just- what?” You shook your head to dislodge any sand that may be plugging your ears and causing you to mishear because you could have sworn he said…. “Okay? ….Okay? Did you just say okay?”

Din laughed softly. “Yes.” He nodded. “Fine. I trust you.”

Narrowing your eyes, you leaned forward onto your knees, getting closer to him and peering up with scrutiny for an agonizing minute. “What did you do?”

Leaning back in his chair with a sigh, he rested his hand on his thigh. “Got you a present.” His head tilted to the side as you sat up a bit straighter. “Still gonna look at me like that?”

Eyes going wide, you sat back and matched his posture.

“That’s what I thought,” he said with a snort. “I met up with Boba last night, as you know, and after going to the cantina, he caught up to me with the finished product.”

Din reached over and pulled a tarp off a crate to his right, how you’d missed it you had no idea, especially since the item before your eyes still sang with the same signature as his armor had.

A jetpack.

Raw beskar and durasteel glinted under the twin suns, polished to perfection and ready to earn their first scuff marks.

“Din…. No.” You looked at him in disbelief. “You didn’t.”

Reaching for the pack, he groaned slightly with the effort, sighing once it sat in his lap. “I couldn’t look at you in that horribly fitting armor one more time, and it was just taking up space on the ship.” He set the heavy gift in your lap. “Now I don’t have to lug you around anymore.”

Scoffing, you leaned in closer to him, batting your lashes. “Don’t lie, you like lugging me around.”

He tossed his head side to side. “It has its perks, yes, but now….” He gently nudged you back with a finger to your shoulder so you were sitting normally in your seat again. “Lift yourself, mesh’la.”

Sitting up straight as you held the jetpack in your lap, you traced its curves with your hand. “I don’t know whether to be offended or say thank you.”

Meeting the gaze of his visor through your lashes, he simply nodded.

“That’s all I needed to hear. Now, let’s get you fitted and flying - but first, I have to sync them with your vambraces, or else you might-”

“Let me guess,” you sighed, relaxing back into your chair with a thump. “Or else I might blow something up?” Din nodded once in confirmation, and you mirrored him. “Some things never change.”

“And some things change all the time….”

“Well that was cryptic.”

“Fennec found a contact for me that might know where the Armorer is. Where the covert moved to.”

Your eyes went wide and you froze, halfway to attaching the jetpack between your shoulder blades. “Excuse me, what?”

“It’s a job, but I head there in two rotations-”

Your face fell flat, along with your tone. “Excuse me, what?”

“Are you broken?” You arched a brow in question at him. “You haven’t moved since I mentioned the Armorer and you’re repeating yourself.”

With a huff of disbelief, you let the jetpack to the ground beside you with a gentle thud, and faced him once again. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s because you’re insane?!”

“Excuse me, what?”

“See?” You gestured to him. “A perfectly valid reaction.” Din huffed, his head tilting to the side in annoyance as you went on. “First off I was excited for you, but then you go and say something crazy like you’re going alone?”

“Well I just assumed….”

“Go on,” you deadpanned, smiling slightly when he trailed off, swallowing roughly.

When he never did, you sighed heavily and forged on for the both of you. “Since I’m your wife,” you began, eyes cast down to the sand, ignoring the way he tossed his head back with a groan, “I think it’s only right I go with you.” You looked up to meet his visor. “Not to mention I continue to save your skin daily.”

“One time. I….” He held up one finger. “That was. I let that slip one time with Peli and it was an accident.” He huffed, staring at you for a long moment. “You're never going to let me forget that are you?”

You grinned. “No.”

Xxx

The two of you landed at the front of Peli’s hangar when you saw an unknown droid approaching in the street from where you were training in the air.

“Oh! Pardon me!” The courier droid raised its hands up in surrender.

Reaching out, you lowered Din’s blaster. “You have a problem,” you mumbled. “You need to ask questions first, shoot later.”

Din grunted. “That’s not how I work.”

“Well, maybe you need to upgrade your circuitry, Tin Can.”

Both Din and the courier looked at you.

“Beg your pardon, miss, but that is a Mandalorian, not a droi-”

You couldn’t help your snort of laughter. “What’s the message?”

“Oh. Yes.” The droid reached into a bag fastened to its hip. “You have a holo from a Greef Karga? It’s marked sensitive/eyes only. I suggest you watch it someplace private.” Leaning around to look behind you into the vacant hangar, the only other soul being R5 rolling past with an offensive blip, the droid then looked back at the two of you. “Or just stay here.”

Taking the device from the droid with a smile, you were surprised when it didn’t just leave.

It reached back into the satchel and procured another device. A puck. And handed it to Din.

“What’s this?” The Mandalorian asked dryly, looking at the small device in the droid's hand as if it were the most confusing puzzle in the galaxy.

“Courtesy of Greef Karga…. once again.” When Din made no effort to move, the droid looked between the two of you. “They go together. I assume they offer some explanation. Otherwise, I have nothing to tell you about them.”

Din sighed, taking the puck and shutting the hangar door before the droid could say another word.

A muffled, “Oh. Well, good day, then!” Came through before the retreat of mechanical footsteps was heard.

“That was rude!” You mumbled, turning to go deeper into the hangar, but freezing when you saw the info spinning above the puck in Din’s hand.

No.

No it couldn’t be.

Quickly activating the comm, you let Karga explain what you already feared.

“If you’re playing this message, you’ve already opened the puck. Yes. I know. I was just as shocked, too.”

There, in letters as big as day was your name.

“It was issued by the head of some small town crime group on Tatooine. Said you decimated their numbers yesterday?”

Din grunted. “Nobody died. What do they mean decimated?”

“I’m not issuing the puck to anyone, but be on the lookout. It could make things…. Difficult.”

The comm went dead, and all you could do was stare at the puck in Din’s hand, the info being presented to you but truly not being absorbed as all you could do was watch and blink.

The puck displayed your picture, slowly spinning with all your details next to it.

Name: Eesra Kesyk

Last known location: Tatooine

Known associates: Din Djarin, Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, Peli Motto, Sola Kei, Cara Dune, Greef Karga, Mythrol, Bo Katan Kryze, Ahsoka Tano, Luke Skywalker

Karga, Mythrol, Bo Katan, Luke, Ahsoka? For some small time group on Tatooine, they had really gone out of their way to find info on you….

Your gut sank.

Unless….

You shook your head. There’s no way this went beyond a small town crime lord on a backwater planet. No way.

Focusing back in on the list, you squinted to read the fine print it was in to have everything fit on the little readout.

The rest was just details, date of birth, previous work…. reason for bounty.

“Are they serious?”

Unlawful use of star cruiser in restricted airspace, failure to comply with law enforcement, breaking and entering, damage to public property, battery and assault….

Din thought this was all very funny. He was practically giggling by now, snorts of laughter trickling out of his modulator as he stood to your right.

He’d tried to stop under your glare, he really did, but it just wasn’t possible, little snickers escaping here and there.

“Who knew I married such a horrible person?”

He did this from time to time. Brought up his little misstep with Peli where he’d called you his wife, leaning fully into the absurdity and embracing the silliness you often tried to pelt at him mercilessly by saying it himself first.

Rolling your eyes, but unable to contain the small grin climbing up your face, you looked back at the puck and crossed your arms firmly over your chest. “You knew what you were getting yourself into, Tin Can.” Tilting your head at the readout, you pursed your lips. “And we’re not actually married, no matter what you said to Peli. You’re not ready for all of this.” Making a swooping gesture to yourself, you ignored his mocking snort of amusement.

You stared at the list for another loaded minute of silence before going on. “Besides, half of these aren’t even true!” Gesturing to the list with one hand, you turned to look up at his visor, brows raised. “Unlawful use of starcruiser…. When did we even leave the planet?”

He was still chuckling warmly as he turned to you. “Did I? Know what I was getting into, I mean? I don’t know about that, mesh’la.” His chuckle grew louder as your face fell into unamusement. “And are you sure? Only half?”

Turning to face him fully, you raised one hand to wag a finger in his face teasingly. “Hey, you’re the one that keeps coming back.”

Pulling you into his arms, he hummed contentedly. “And I always will come back to you.”

Copying his hum of satisfaction, you reached up and grabbed his cowl like always, tucking your face into the fabric and taking a deep breath before turning to the side to look at the holo once again with a sigh.

“They got my name wrong, though.”

“Did they?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Tucking your face into the crook of his neck, you smiled. “Eesra Djarin of Clan Mudhorn…. That’s so much better, don’t you think?”

He groaned softly. “I-”

Bleep!

Din grunted in mild annoyance as Bee rolled up the ramp, stopping beside the two of you and trilling animatedly. “Not now, Scrap.”

Bee let out as close to a matching grunt of displeasure a droid could make, flipped out the electrified arm on her front, and waved it at Din in warning.

“See? This is why I don’t like droids,” Din grumbled.

Rolling forward bit by bit, backtracking just slightly in between, she pried her way into the small amount of space between the two of you, making you step back just slightly to make room.

“Well, hello there,” you mused quietly to the metallic dome whose lense was looking up at you, smiling back at the tiny bloop in greeting. “May I help you?”

She babbled away in Binary animatedly, charged hand still extended toward Din in warning as she rolled ever so slightly closer towards you, tilting forward just a bit and causing Din to grunt as the forward motion pushed the bottom of her housing into his shin guards with a ping.

“I’m sure R5 didn’t say all that. What are you getting at?”

More beeps and whistles, this time containing squeals as her lense switched between red and white rapidly, almost faster than her sounds, as she animatedly continued her story.

“Wow,” you finally said when the droid stopped, staring at you expectantly.

“What did she say?” Din tilted his head at you.

“No idea.” You looked up into his visor. “All I caught was something something BD said and then Peli, Jawas….”

Both of you started to chuckle softly, Bee looking between you as she rotated her dome back and forth, a bloop of disappointment before a raspberry of annoyance, and you couldn’t shake the growing grin on your face if you wanted to.

After a moment she reached out just a little further and zapped Din with the electrified arm, tittering a laugh as she rolled away at speed as Din chased after her after crying out in pain. “Ow! Get back here, you rolling scrap heap!”

Crossing your arms, you leaned against the opening of the ramp to the Crest, and watched the scene unfold in Peli’s hangar.

Droids, a mechanic, and a Mandalorian all running in circles after a goal you weren’t quite sure of. All that was clear was Din was losing.

You were home, with the people you loved.

Looking to the side, you saw the bunk of the Crest open, the child’s hammock still strung across the top. The corners of your mouth pulled slightly down.

Well, almost everyone.

You were a clan of three.

No, it was more than that.

You were also a family.

And someday, you’d all be back together again.

Someday soon.

You’d find a way to bring it all back to you.

Adjusting your weight slightly, you bumped something on your vambraces in the process causing the jetpack between your shoulder blades beginning to whir with an increasing hum. Flames began to sputter at its base with a growing roar, sending a wall of heat down the backs of your thighs as it prepared to lift you into the skies once again.

“Din?” You called, quietly at first, staring over your shoulder at the new death trap strapped to your spine, then more urgently, “Din!”

He was already jogging up the ramp toward you, his posture easy and relaxed. “Calm down.”

A quick glance behind him showed an amused Peli and her circus of droids, all of them tittering in amusement. Bee rocked back and forth in glee at the foot of the ramp before rolling back to the others.

“Calm down?” You repeated in bewilderment, watching him disengage the jetpack from your vambrace with a single button push, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Calm down?!” He began to chuckle, his hand skimming up the inside of your forearm to lightly grab your elbow and push you further into the ship as you went on. “I was almost a flying projectile and you-”

You hadn’t noticed the way he’d nudged you backwards completely out of sight of the rest of the hangar until your spine sealed along the bulkhead by the weapons locker, the lights of the cargo hold going to half brightness with a deft swipe of his hand over a control pad to your left.

Half, but still plenty bright to see.

“Din?”

Taking in your new surroundings, you looked back up to see him taking his gloves off and tucking them in his belt. His helmet came next, the quiet hiss of the mechanism causing you to screw your eyes shut. The familiar sound of beskar thunking onto the metal floor of the Crest made them close even tighter.

Din chuckled softly, the unmodulated sound tickling your face with his warm breath. “Open your eyes, mesh’la.”

“Oh, yeah.” Slowly you blinked your eyes open, looking up to see warm brown eyes, and the sweetest smile waiting to meet you. “I still forget.”

Winding your hands up into the curls at the base of his head, you smirked when he let out a contented sigh through his nose.

After a moment of simply holding the other’s gaze, you muttered quietly, “Hello, brown eyes.”

Din was on you in an instant, his groan of annoyance muffled against your lips as you laughed softly into the kiss.

“You always have to ruin it,” he mumbled, crowding you further into the wall, his bare hands coming to cradle your face and making your eyes slip shut at the contact. “Nu-uh. Open your eyes, mesh’la.”

Fluttering them open, you tried very hard to keep them that way. “Sorry. It’s not every day a Mandalorian is half naked in front of me. I’ll try harder.”

“Half naked?” He tilted his head, the tip of his nose bumping against yours, one brow arching up in question.

“For you, a helmet and gloves is the equivalent of a-”

Din was back on you again, this time growling in mock frustration against your lips as you laughed a bit louder. The upturn of his lips gave his amusement away, though.

Pulling apart just enough that only your foreheads rested against one another, the two of you held that moment together for quite a while. Simply breathing the other in, and existing in this quiet moment before the storm.

Before you left to find more Mandalorians.

More Mandalorians.

Now that was going to be interesting.

After a moment, you rolled your head to the side slightly and peeked up through your lashes to find his eyes closed.

You opened your mouth to speak, only for you both to speak in tandem, “Open your eyes.”

“I will if you will,” you were quick to retort.

Warm brown eyes met yours once again as the setting suns’ light poured in through the open ramp somewhere behind him, painting the cargo hold of the Crest in vibrant shades of gold, orange and red.

Din smiled softly, pressing his forehead further into yours, using his hands at your cheeks to maneuver your head back a bit and into a better angle for him to lean his forehead into. “Only for you.” His fingers began to move up and thread into your hair. “Always for you.” It was hard to tell where he stopped and you began. “Gar cuyi ner aliit. Ni kar'tayli darasuum gar. Gar cuyi ner mir'sheb bal gar utreekov kar'tayli darasuum gar, cyar’ika.” He pressed his forehead even further into yours, his lips ghosting over your own with each word. (“You are my family. I love you. You are my smartass, and your idiot loves you, darling.”)

“Gar cuyi ner yaim. Ner yaim'ol. Ner yaim'la.” The light of the day was fading, much the same as the two of you were melding into one another, practically becoming one being, all his hard edges blurring where your soft lines began. The Crest began to fill with long shadows as the lights in Peli’s hangar kicked on, filling the cargo hold with just enough extra light to see. (“You are my home. My homecoming. My comfortable.”)

Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hand, and he melted into it, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into your palm, his voice a low rumble. “Ni ratiin yaimpar gar.” (“I always return to you.”)

In the quiet moment, you rubbed your thumb over his cheek bone slowly back and forth before finally whispering with a smile, “Open your eyes.”

Once he was looking at you once again, you pulled your head back just a bit and tilted it to the side. “So, where are we going to find the covert?”

He went stiff. “We?”

You sighed, laying your head on his pauldron. “It’s been how long, and you still haven’t learned that I’m always going to come with you?”

Din looked at you with a matching sigh. He tilted his head at you, his weight shifted to one leg, his hands on your waist moving you along with him. “You sometimes stay here when I go out on a job and help Peli work on the ship. It’s almost done after what Gideon tried to do- er, it was until today.”

“Exactly. So after this last massacre, I don’t think Peli wants to see my face around here anymore,” you laughed, making him shake his head and let out a huff of laughter. “I think Boba would give us a lift to wherever.”

“And then how do we get back?”

You smiled as you closed the small space between you, speaking softer as the situation began to feel more delicate. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Why are your ideas usually half baked or somehow involve fire?”

You closed the distance between you yet again, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly, and pressing your forehead into his. “And yet they always work….”

“You get lucky sometimes,” he groused half heartedly before he returned the gesture, a warm ungloved hand spread across your back, the other moving up to the back of your head to tuck your face securely into the crook of his neck.

You weren’t about to pull away as he held you there gently. Turning your face towards him where it rested on his shoulder, your nose brushed against his neck, and his grip grew tighter. Glancing up towards his face, you thought back to a time in the bar when this all started when all you could see before the helmet obstructed your view was a small sliver of skin that bobbed as he swallowed roughly.

Now you had an unobstructed view….

….Of unruly dark curls long overdue for a trim….

….Golden skin dusted with a light facial hair that had the slightest hint of grays peppered in….

….Kind, warm brown eyes that looked at you with so many promises….

….A nose that had definitely been broken once or twice….

….And a smile that took your breath away.

You turned your head up fully towards his face as you pulled away just enough to look at him straight on, and he turned his gaze down to meet you with a slightly playful tilt of his head like before.

“I’m just that good.” Your hands fell to rest on his chest plate. “Now let’s go find your people.”

“Let’s go find our people,” he corrected.

With a gentle nod, you pulled away slowly after a moment, turning towards the ramp with wide eyes as what just happened sunk in.

Our people.

Din walked past you, looking over his shoulder once he was on the ramp. “Are you coming?”

Our people.

Turning your head slightly to the left, you saw he had stopped, helmet back on, gloves securely fastened, and every bit the Mandalorian you had met all those years ago, only now he stood waiting for you, hand outstretched in invitation.

Mine.

You smiled, walking forward and taking his hand. “Moff Gideon couldn’t keep me away.”

Xxx

Yes, I gave her a name. Eesra Kesyk. (Ee-sruh Keh-sick) Let’s face it, Mesh’la is still what’s going to be used 99.999999% of the time, and “you” the majority of the rest. But we’re going into a part of the story with a whole lot of other new players and I wanted to have something to call the reader besides “you” and nicknames. I know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and I’m sorry. But, it’s my story, and that’s what I chose to do. I have a plan, so if you’ll bear with me, thank you, and I hope we can see it through together. ❤️ Plus, Din still just calls her *sigh* or “stop it!” 99% of the time, so…. 🤭

Xxx

Tags to come!

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noisynaia · 1 year

Note

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.

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absurdthirst · 29 days

Text

Unexpectedly Mated {Alpha!Mando x F!Omega!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: Alpha/Omega dynamics, heats, denying biological needs, religious creeds, removing your helmet, jealousy, territorial aggression, fingering, first kisses, vaginal sex, rough sex, knotting, mates, marking

Comments: Forbidden to remove your helmet by Creed, Mandalorians deny their basic biological needs as Alphas and Omegas. The helmet blocks the scant of their true mate. Until an open air vent leads Mando to discover that you are his omega.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia.

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|| MasterList || The Mandalorian MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“You must never remove your helmet.” The creed and these words drilled into you at a young age and you have never forgotten, would never be allowed to forget. The creed comes before all else. The covert comes before the individual. In a galaxy full of alphas, omegas, and betas…Mandalorians stood alone. Defying their biological status to better the covert, to keep the numbers up. You wear the helmet to not only protect your face but to keep you from recognizing your mate. The scent recognition of a mate is instant so the Mandalorian solution is to wear helmets with filters so that one can breed with anyone they prefer. Their minds are clouded with scent so the desire is the driving factor. The younglings are raised by the covert as a unit so the aim is to repopulate Mandalore. You suppress your omega urges with supplements and you’ve yet to breed. Too busy with bounty hunting alongside a certain Din Djarin. You’re drawn to him, that’s for sure, but you’ve never bred with him. He’s not interested in a family, in an ad. He wants credits. He wants to protect the foundling under his care and you’ve gone along for the ride.

“Din.” Your modulated voice calls out to him as he strides ahead of you after you reunited the frog woman with her husband. “The kid needs to eat.” You tell him, knowing you need to find the nearest cantina.

The sigh Din gives you is one of frustration and resignation. He likes the kid, he’s risked a lot to protect him, even his covert. The sins he has committed weigh heavily on his shoulders and he nods. “Come on.” He grumbles to the little one. “I know you’re hungry, we’ll get you something to eat.” Hopefully the Crest will be fixed soon. Unable to take off his helmet unless he is in his bunk is starting to frustrate him, the hermetically sealed space is starting to feel stale with the cycled air and he longs for a single breath of fresh air. He had also hoped to slip away for a moment, needing to find a medical facility to replace his implant. It had been damaged from his fight with Moff Gideon and he’s not had time to have it seen to. While he doesn’t visit a brothel or find a sexual partner often, he can feel the need to rut building up in his system. The alpha side he tries to suppress starts to bleed through his normally calm demeanor.

You sit with the kid in the cantina, snorting when Din saves him from his own lunch and you glance around at the sailors. They mention Mandalorians and you are surprised to hear of your kind here, especially since Din wants to find them so he can help the kid return to his own planet. “Before we head off, maybe we can freshen up. I need to use the fresher and I’m sure you also want some time out of beskar.”

He groans at the idea of time outside the suit. Letting his skin breath and maybe he can work in a quick tug on his cock while he’s in the ‘fresher. “We’ll have to get rooms.” He reminds you, his head tilting towards yours. “Do you want to do that?”

You nod, “that sounds like a plan. I’m sure this one needs a nap after everything.” You say, reaching out to caress the kid’s ear. He coos at you and finishes his broth with a loud slurp. “Let’s find somewhere.” You say and throw some credits down for the broth. Din nods and you’re soon following him into the inn nearby. You are eager for a shower and some time out of the heavy beskar. Despite wearing it since you were a kid, you have always been weighed down by it. Din gets two rooms and you nod at him when he carries the now sleeping child into the room.

The child’s eyes never open, making Din chuckle quietly as he closes the pod and sets it in the corner of the room. Looking around to make sure the windows are covered before he reaches up and unlatches the edge of his helmet and groans quietly when he pulls it off his head. His hair is sweaty, but immediately the scent of the outside world is much more vivid. Making him inhale deeply and growl quietly at how good it all smells. Being an alpha as a Mandalorian was tricky, his own scent blocked by the helmet, but others could smell him. Making things difficult for him at times, especially when he cannot even walk around his own ship with his helmet unsealed because you are with him. Now, he sits on the edge of the bed, with his eyes closed and breathes deep, unaware that the vent between your two rooms has not been closed.

You hum as you tilt your head under the water. An actual shower instead of the ‘fresher on the ship is a welcome surprise. You don’t realize the vent in your room is open so Din can smell you as your omega scent wafts through the room, warmed up from the shower and the water flowing onto your face blocks you from smelling Din.

It’s subtle at first. A teasing waft that caresses his nose and makes his cock twitch. The beautiful, heady scent of an omega. Making him groan quietly until the next wave hits him. His omega. The scent overwhelms him and he’s immediately hard, aching and desperate to claim the omega who is meant to be his mate. His mate. His eyes widen when he sees the vent opened, called to it as he follows the scent. It’s the vent that connects your room to his. You’re his mate.

You can feel a tugging in your stomach when you step out of the shower and you frown, wondering if you’re going to go into heat soon. You’ll need to get some more suppressants since you don’t have the time to spend days nesting while you are with Din. He doesn’t want you to be a needy omega holding him back from his quest. You dry off, shutting the door to the bathroom behind you and you lay down on the bed, unable to stop your hand from snaking down to rub your clit, a whimper escaping your lips.

Din snaps the vent closed. Hand curling into a fist as he pants against the shared wall. You’re his mate, his omega. His mind whirls as he tries to reconcile that new information with the stalwart and steady Mandalorian he has been bounty hunting with. He won’t deny that he wondered about fucking you before, it’s only natural that he would given how close you had been. His cock throbs as he imagines you in your armor, slowly stripping it off and walking around your room nude. Building a nest and begging him to join you. “Fuck.” He hisses.

You fall asleep naked on the bed after making yourself cum, relieving the ache in your stomach, enjoying being out of your beskar. You sleep until there’s a knock on the door and you groan, waking up and immediately grabbing your helmet to slide it onto your head. “It’s time to go.” Din says and you call out, “no problem. I’ll get ready and be right out.”

You redress in your beskar, your stomach still aching but you decide you’ll seek out some suppressants later. Opening the door, you find Din standing there with the kid. “Morning buddy.” You coo to the child and look up at Din who looks tense. “Everything okay?” You ask him, tilting your helmet.

You know that Din can be all business but there’s something off about him. You ignore it and follow Din down the hall to find the sailors who are granting you passage on their boat to find the Mandalorians that are apparently on the planet. Later on, you admire the water as the raft moves along, glancing at Din who is stiff, well, stiffer than normal. “Are you sure you’re okay?” You ask softly, the sailors moving around behind you.

“Let me go!” You growl in anger, swinging your arm to fling a sailor into the water. Using your strength to try and untangle yourself from the ropes when Din and the child are in danger and that’s when they appear: the Mandalorians.

The redhead who introduced herself as Bo Katan shakes her head. “I’ve heard of your sect of the religion but Maker…I didn’t know how far it went in controlling its followers. On Mandalore, we wish for alphas and omegas to find their mate, it makes for stronger bonds, stronger families. We don’t - that is not something we dictate.” You swallow harshly as her words, feeling a tugging in your stomach that makes you want to lean towards Din but you push that aside. “You can remove your helmet and you would not be dar'manda.” Bo Katan explains and you’re so tempted.

Din stands up, angry at them for tempting him, tempting you. He shakes his head. “You are not mandalorian.” He growls, reaching down and takes your arm to pull you to your feet. “We are leaving.” He tells you, turning and striding away from the group angrily.

You let Din guide you out of the cantina and you sigh, “Din. Slow down. Maybe…maybe they are telling the truth. As Mandalorians, we are denying our biological need. We are denying nature itself. Why? What- what good is it?” You ask him, the child in the pouch nestled against his hip.

“What good is it?” Din stops and spins around, crowding you slightly and even though you cannot smell it, pheromones pour off of him in heavy waves. All this talk of mates and finding out you are his has him desperate to claim you. To take what is his. “The Creed. That is what good it is. Our secrecy is our survival. We. Do. Not. Remove. Our. Helmets.”

You shake your helmet, stumbling back away from him. “I do not want to breed with whomever the armorer tells me to. I want to find my mate. I want to feel complete.” You yell, quickly flicking the lock to your helmet and you waste no time lifting it off of your head in public for the first time since you were twelve. It hits you immediately. His scent. He’s an alpha. Your alpha. “You- oh Maker. Alpha.” You address him, your stomach twisting with sudden need for him.

Din hisses, his body jerking at the tone of your voice, the submissive nature of it. Calling to him. His hands curl into fists and he moves, shielding you from any eyes that could possibly see your face. “Put your helmet on.” He demands roughly, knowing that he cannot do this right now. He cannot have this conversation with you in the middle of a spaceport.

Your lower lip trembles, feeling the rejection, and you shove your helmet back on your head, flicking the lock and his scent is replaced with fresh air through the filter. “Clearly you do not wish to have me as your omega so I am going to go back to the cantina. Perhaps another alpha can help with my heat.” You didn’t get a chance to pick up suppressants and the scent of your alpha has your stomach twisting with the sudden heat, the urge to mate and be claimed by him has you sweating already. You need to be touched and as much as you wish for it to be him, it’s obvious that he doesn’t want that. You spin on your heel before he can answer to make your way back into the cantina.

Growling, Din watches you walk off. Sighing when he knows he cannot follow you. The child is still beside him, looking up and cooing at him as if to tell him that he had fucked up. “Come on kid.” He grunts, turning and walking away from you even though his entire body is screaming to follow you. “I need to find someone to watch you.” He knows he cannot have a conversation with you around the kid, around anyone. He needs to find another room, then he will bring you back for a talk.

You want to take off your helmet and down a spotchka or five, but Din’s command to not remove your helmet is ringing in your ears. You sit at the bar when you feel a presence next to you. “What’s a Mandalorian omega doing all alone?” He asks and you snort, “I haven’t got an alpha.” You state despite your chest aching, knowing you have an alpha but he doesn’t want you. On your walk to the cantina, you realized that Din didn’t question being your alpha. Which means he must’ve taken his helmet off at some point and found out. You wonder how long he’s known. Why he had kept it from you. “That’s good news for me, sweetheart. I’ve never been with a Mandalorian before and it smells like you might be needing an alpha at any moment.” He says, leaning closer and your stomach pangs with the beginning of a heat.

“I- I ran out of suppressants.” You confess, turning towards him despite everything in you wanting to run to find Din.

The Frog Lady had agreed to watch the baby, leaving Din to go back to the little inn where you had stayed last night and get another room. He knows that he owes you a conversation, a real conversation and he cannot do that in public. Once he has the key, Din tucks it into his belt and sets off for the cantina. He knows you are angry at him, hurt. He wants to give you time to cool down for a moment, to think rationally again. To remember your creed so both of you can agree that nothing will happen until you can find the armorer again and speak with her. Striding confidently towards the seedy little bar, he is sure that it would work.

You giggle when the alpha leans in, telling you a joke about Jawas and you are distracted for a moment from talking about your heat. He offers to buy you a drink but you decline, not wanting to take your helmet off, but it’s nice to talk to someone without them just giving you a grunt as an answer. You unconsciously lean closer to the alpha, your body heated as your biological need threatens to overwhelm you.

Walking into the bar, Din unlocks his helmet, unsealing it so he can smell you. Attraction and arousal, pouring from you and he follows the scent. Finding you sitting at the bar, another alpha leaning in, obviously interested in touching you, fucking you. The need to protect you roars to life in his chest and his alpha nature rips through his self control. Moving quickly to you, barely resisting the urge to pull his blaster on the cocksure alpha who is grinning at his mate. “Get the fuck away from her.” He growls, shoving between the two of you and puffing up his chest, towering over the other man and trying to be as intimidating as possible.

You gasp at Din’s sudden appearance and you stand up from your stool. “Alpha.” You place your hand on Din’s chest plate to keep him back from the other alpha.

“Hey buddy. Me and this omega were talking.” The alpha says and you wince under your helmet, knowing that he needs to shut up before he gets a blaster in the face.

“Din, just leave him.” You huff, pissed that he is dictating what you can and can’t do.

“My omega.” Din growls, his hand inches away from his blaster and he stares hard at the man from behind his visor. “Move away.” He warns but the man scoffs and doesn’t look impressed.

“She doesn’t seem taken. She seems like she’s real interested in getting to know me. ‘Bout to go into heat, needs an alpha buried in her cunt, knotting her.”

His words make you wince as you know Din, any alpha, wouldn’t allow them to speak about their omega that way. “It’s obvious you haven’t claimed her. What’s wrong, Mando? Not got the balls to do what needs to be done. She doesn’t smell like you. She smells wet. She smells ready for a cock. Clearly you aren’t enough for her. She wants to get fucked.” The alpha smirks, pushing Din’s buttons even more.

Din’s hand shoots out, wrapping it around the other alpha’s throat and squeezing harshly. Enjoying the way his pheromones immediately turned to ones of distress and his eyes bulge while his blue skin turns purple as the airways are cut off by the pressure of Din’s hand. “My omega.” Din rasps out, voice dangerously low and threatening. “Mine. Not yours. Mine.” The urge to kill him is clouding his thoughts, to demonstrate that you are his. That he would protect you.

“Alpha. Alpha. Don’t. He’s not worth it. I’m yours. I’m yours.” You promise Din, knowing that fact deep within your bones but you’re still furious with him. You place your hands on his chest plate, your helmet tilted towards his, “please. Just take me back to the inn. Don’t do this.”

Slowly, Din relaxes his fingers and lets go. Getting immense satisfaction when the other alpha gasps for air and immediately grabs his throat. He grabs your hands and ducks his shoulder down, hauling you over his shoulder like he would a bounty. Ignoring your shrieks as he storms out of the cantina with you.

You are shocked that Din is carrying you back to the inn and, you can admit to yourself, turned on by the primal display. "Din. Put me down!" You demand but he ignores you until he's in front of the room he had gotten for you. Finally putting you down. "I can't believe you did that." You shake your helmet and he opens the door.

"Inside." He demands and you obey him immediately, stepping into the room. Din steps into the room, letting the door close and locking it behind him. “You were going to let him touch you?” He demands, pissed off that you were searching for someone, despite the fact that he had not immediately claimed you.

You feel defiant now despite being alone with your alpha. "I was. I am going into heat. If you didn’t touch me, I needed to find another alpha to satisfy my needs." You declare despite knowing that no one would give you what you need from Din.

“You’ve worked through heats before.” Din growls, remembering how he had heard your whimpering cries from your bunk as you used your toys. It had been hard to deal with, when he hadn’t known he was your alpha. Wanting to offer you his cock the entire time, but he had respected your need for privacy. “Why not this time?”

“Because - because I wanted to feel wanted. I wanted someone to touch me who wanted to touch me, to make me feel something. I know you already knew I was your omega. You weren’t shocked when I found out you were my alpha. You didn’t - you didn’t sound surprised at all. How long have you known?” You ask, crossing your arms.

He leans back from you, surprised that you are attacking him and not liking it. “I-“ he huffs, rolling his eyes under his helmet and sighs. “Yesterday.” He admits quietly. “The vents between our rooms weren't closed. I-I smelled you when I took my helmet off.”

You are placated when you find out it was only yesterday but you’re still hurt that he didn’t tell you. “I didn’t smell you yesterday. I - I was showering and I -” You frown under the helmet. “You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”

“I- we-“ Din shakes his head. “You know what Mandalorians do.” He reasons with you. “The Armorer aligns breeding partners. I-“ He bites his lip under his helmet and sighs. “I was going to ask the Armorer for you, to be paired with you when we find them again.”

You understand where he is coming from but you feel frustrated by him. "Din. We - we are mates. What we have is...it's more than the creed. It's more than just breeding. It's how it is supposed to be. It's primal and raw. We are mates. Destined for each other and you've been by my side for so long yet neither of us knew what the other was meant to be. I want - I want you. I need you. Fuck the creed. Fuck the Armorer. You're my alpha and I - I want you. No matter what the consequences are." You say, "but if you don't want that - want me - I will leave. I'll go back to the covert and you can finish your quest alone."

He wants to argue against your comments, his heart twisting when he hears you say you would walk away. “Always wanted you.” He confesses quietly, breathing deeply and soaking in your scent. “Since the second week together. Watching you wipe the floor with that Twi.” He snorts, smirking slightly under his helmet. “Wanted you all the time.”

You chuckle, remembering that fight when you were both so much younger. You step towards him, "I have always wanted you. Always imagined you when I was in my nest." You confess softly, "I think I knew, unconsciously, that I was yours."

“I thought about you a lot.” Din confesses, taking a deep breath as he remembers what Bo Katan had said about mates being able to reveal their faces to each other. He takes a deep breath and reaches up to slowly start sliding his helmet off.

Your eyes widen under your helmet as Din exposes his face to you and you get your first look at his handsome face. "Maker. You are -" You can see him tense with anxiety and you reach up with your gloved hand to cup his cheek. "Mesh'la." You tell him, unable to tear your eyes away from those beautiful brown eyes. "Do you - you can remove my helmet...if you want."

He’s proud that you find him appealing. His one glimpse of you too fleeting for his own liking, finding you mesh’la as well. “I want to see you, omega.” He hums as he slowly reaches for your helmet. “My omega. My mate.”

You’re nervous for him to fully look at you without your helmets on, and your heart pounds beneath your chest plate. You bite your lip when your eyes meet his without the pixelated visor screen and his brown eyes soften. “Din. Alpha.” You murmur, watching him as he stares at you.

“Mesh’la.” He murmurs softly, staring into your eyes and feeling his cock harden beneath his flight suit as he smells and sees you clearly for the first time. He groans your name. “Omega.”

You ache for him, your heat curling in your stomach, and you wonder what he wants, if he still wants to wait until you return to the covert. “I don’t know what you want from me right now. Do you want us to put our helmets back on and continue on like this never happened until we return to the Armorer?” You ask, a little breathless.

“I cannot pretend I haven’t seen your face, smelled you.” Din groans, his eyes nearly closing in pain when a wave of arousal drifts over him. “I- you’re mine.” He growls again. “You are going into heat, I will take care of you.”

You whimper at his words, your body starting to get overheated with need. “Alpha.” You gasp, starting to work on removing your beskar, needing to feel the air on your hot skin. “I need you.” You pant, efficiently stripping down until you’re in your bra band and panties, boots kicked aside and you slide your hand into your panties, needing to rub your clit for some relief.

“Omega.” He growls, body tense and he steps forward, his need to touch you and take care of you nearly overwhelming his rational sense. He is about to touch you, still completely dressed in his armor except for his helmet. When he sees his gloves, he stops. “Get on the bed.” He orders, starting to strip down himself. Needing to press his skin to yours. “I will make sure you don’t need your fingers. You can have mine.”

You obey his order, shifting to lay down on the bed after reluctantly pulling your fingers out of your panties, and you watch him strip off. “Alpha. You are - you’re mesh’la.” You say, sitting up on your elbows to watch him, seeing the scars from blasters that grazed the vulnerable spots in his beskar and you want to kiss every one of them.

His own groan is one of pride and need, seeing you squirming on the bed, waiting for him. His omega, needy and wet. His hand wraps around his cock and he slowly starts to jerk himself. “You are mesh’la, cyar’ika.” He hums, eyes dark and full of lust. The waves of need and want roll off of you and mix with his own desire to fill the room. “My sweet little, omega. Wanting my cock, needing my knot.”

His voice, unmodulated, makes you shiver, and you watch him with wide eyes. “Yours, alpha.” You promise, reaching behind you to unclip your bra band, tossing it onto the floor to expose your tits to his gaze as he pumps his cock. You are aching for him. “Please. Alpha. I need your touch.”

He’s heard it before. The needy begging and calling to his alpha, but never from his mate. Growling, he scrambles onto the bed, one hand grabbing your breast while the other rips your panties off effortlessly.

You cry out in satisfaction as he quickly pushes two thick digits inside of you. “Yesss.” You hiss, feeling the ache assuage slightly with his digits curling deep inside of you. “Fuck, Din. Alpha. Yes.” You whine, tilting your head towards his.

It will be the first time he’s kissed anyone and it’s fitting that it’s his mate. His lips come crashing down against yours roughly as he curls his fingers inside you. Unskilled, he relies on what he had imagined doing, watching holo vids and jerking off when he was alone in his bunk. His tongue pushing into your mouth when you moan and he makes a feral sound of pleasure of his own.

You moan into his mouth, tangling your tongue with his and it’s unskilled but passionate. Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging slightly and you feel his cock twitch against your thigh. You’ve both had sex before, neither of you have kissed and it’s clumsy but you soon get the hang of it.

He feels like he doesn’t want to ever stop kissing you. Pumping his fingers deep inside your quivering cunt, he groans and rocks his hips against your belly. Loving how eagerly you respond to me.

You pant into his mouth, getting closer to orgasm with the way his fingers pump into you. "Alpha. I'm gonna- you're gonna make me - fuck!" You cry into his mouth as you clamp down on his digits, the ache in your belly satiated for a moment.

The first orgasm from his omega nearly makes him cum untouched. Din moans your name as he works you through the way your walls clench and your juices soak his hand. Pleasured pheromones pour off of you and he ducks his head down to press his tongue to your scent gland.

Feeling his tongue on your scent gland has you whining his name and your nails dig into his back, wanting him to bite you but he won’t until he’s ready. “I need you inside of me. Please, alpha.” You beg, gently pushing him off of you so you can shift onto your hands and knees for him.

Din growls, loving the submissive display, looking at your dripping cunt as you move to your hands and knees. Showing him how badly you need him. “My omega is eager.” He groans, slapping your ass and squeezing your hips as he throbs. He knows this first time will be rough. You know it too. Taking his cock on his hand, he shuffles forward and notches it at your entrance. Hissing when he snaps his hips forward ruthlessly and buries himself deep in your cunt.

Your breath is immediately pushed from your lungs and you gasp as he stretches you out. You fall forward onto your elbows and squeeze your eyes shut as he doesn’t hesitate to start moving inside of you. It’s rough and your body feels like it’s on fire. “Yes! Oh fuck, yes! Alpha. I- shit.” You curse, cunt fluttering around his cock.

You’re perfect around him. Gloriously tight and taking every harsh thrust with a choked moan as he starts to hammer into you. Need and the instinct to give you every piece of himself has him gripping your hips like you might get away from him and rocking deep to push up against your womb.

You grip the sheets beneath you, your cheek pressed against them as he pushes into you over and over again. “Fuck. Oh fuck Din.” You pant, thighs starting to shake as he pushes you closer and closer to orgasm with every harsh rock of his hips.

Suddenly, Din stops. Circling his hips as he lifts your and grinds into you. He was going to cum and he wants to make sure that you are satisfied before he gives into any of his own needs. “Fuck, omega, you are so perfect.” He grunts out, panting as he feels you squeeze him. “Are you going to be a good girl and take my knot? Let me breed you one day?”

You whine, deep from your throat. “Yesss. I’ll let you- have as many as you want, alpha. I want to be good for you. Want you to be happy.” You pant, thighs shaking still as he grinds deep and his hand spreads wide until his thumb is pressing against your clit.

“Good girl.” He growls out, twitching inside you. He’s imagined breeding you before, many times, even before knowing you were his omega. Hoping that working with you would cause the armorer to place you together to breed. It was why he let you on his ship. “Fuck, I- you feel so good ‘mega. So fucking tight around my cock.”

Your nails dig into the sheets and you are desperate for him to make you cum. The fire in your belly is burning and sweat beads on your forehead. “Alpha. Please.” You whine, grinding yourself back onto him. “I need - need to cum. It burns.” You almost sob with need.

“It’s okay,” he coos, rubbing your clit as he starts rocking into you again. “Your alpha is going to take care of you. Make sure your little cunt is happy by the time you leave this bed.”

You grind back onto him, his hips still not moving as he rubs your clit, and you practically sob with relief when you cum. Clamping down on his cock, you moan his name, his designation, and soak him. “Yessss.” You hiss, thighs violating shaking as you ride your high.

“Fuck.” He groans, his hands tightening on you as he feels you cum around him. “It’s so good, cyar’ika. My omega.”

You slump into the sheets, the burning dissipating for a moment so you can catch your breath and Din’s fingers dig into your hips. “Alpha. Maker, I need - I want you to knot me. Please. Fuck me hard.” You beg breathlessly.

“Yes, yes, my ‘mega can take it.” He growls proudly. “Take my cock and beg for more.” As he starts to thrust harder, it feels like he’s going to beat the bed through the wall, knocking the headboard against the panel with a loud clang every time he pushes deep.

“I can take it. I want more. Always want more. Please baby. Fuck me. Fuck me harder, Alpha.” You demand, your hands coming out to stop yourself from being squashed against the headboard.

He wants to bite you, to mark you as his even though no one would ever see your marks except him. His secret claim on you under your armor. His hisses out your name and manages to increase his frantic pace. “Fuck, fuck, Dank ferik.”

You whine his name, “Alpha. Oh Maker. You - it’s - oh shit. Shit. Shit.” You wail as you cum again, clamping down on his cock and gushing around him, feeling his knot starting to catch and you know he’s close. “Cum. Cum for me.” You beg breathlessly, reaching back to touch his hand on your hip.

Din collapses on top of you, Pushing you down to the bed, hips never stopping as he drives into you again and again. Fucking you into the bed as if that was his singular focus in life. “Gonna, gonna cum.” He grunts out, warning you. “K-knot you.”

“Do it. Fuck, I need it. Need it, Alpha.” You beg and he pushes deep just as his knot catches, his seed painting your walls with spurt after spurt. You whine in pleasure, feeling satisfied and you tilt your neck. “Make me yours, Din.”

The audible pop of his knot slipping into you releases a feral growl from deep in his chest. Unable to stop himself, his face turns towards your neck and his teeth sink into your scent gland. Marking you as his irrevocably.

You cum again from the pleasure of being tamed and from him knotting you. You sigh into the sheets when Din licks the mark he left on your skin. “I love you.” You confess, “even before I found out you’re my alpha. I’ve always loved you.” You confess with your eyes closed.

Din sighs softly and even though he could not pull away from you because of his knot, he wraps his arms around you to keep you close. “I had hoped the armorer would pair us together.” He confesses quietly. “That's why I let you join my crew.”

He shifts onto his side and you curl back into his chest, “whatever happens…it’s you and me and the kid. Even if we have to leave the covert. I would like to keep you, to keep you safe.” You promise him and he leans in to nuzzle your neck.

“Kar’ta.” He murmurs, feeling like he is complete for the first time since his nature was revealed. His other half is in his arms and he wants nothing more than to keep you there. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome.” He whispers softly, wondering if you will repeat the wedding vows back to him. “Mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

You smile and squeeze his forearm. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome. Mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” You repeat back, turning your head to look at him, “riduur.” You whisper, kissing his jaw, “my riduur.”

“Riduur.” His spouse. You are married to him now, his - both by your nature and by your religion. “I will keep you and the child safe.” He vows, his hand sliding down to your stomach. “And any who follow.”

You kiss his lips softly, smiling against him as you place your hand over his on your stomach. “We will face whatever we need to face together. My riduur. My alpha. And when we are ready, I’ll happily have your children. Maybe we can settle on Navarro. Get a little cottage and live a peaceful life together.” You vocalize the dream you’ve had for years.

“That would be good.” He knows that it might never happen, but he wishes for it. “First we must finish our quest.” He hopes to find the armorer again and have you declared a clan of three. It will take some time, but you have time. Both of you have implants to prevent a child and his knotted cock twitches inside you as he thinks about filling you with his baby.

“Finish the quest.” You agree, “then we have the rest of our lives together. I love you, Din Djarin. My alpha.” You murmur, kissing his jaw again. “Whatever happens, we will face it together as mates. As partners.” You promise, unsure of the road ahead but you will be together, connected as one, and you will ensure the child’s safety. This is the way.

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thefrogdalorian · 25 days

Text

The Arrangement

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: You entered into an arrangement with Mando find some physical relief from the monotony of hyperspace as you travel through the galaxy together as a formidable team of bounty hunters. When you did so, there were three clear rules: that it would not impact your professional relationship, that there were no strings attached and most importantly of all: that Mando would never, ever remove his helmet.

When you carelessly let your emotions get the better of you and undermine those rules, you fear you have lost the man who means everything to you and discover that you miss much more than merely the physical encounters…

Word Count: 7.1k ✯ Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI ✯ Content Warnings: Smut, light angst, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex. ✯ Author's Note: Well, this was by far the spiciest thing I have ever written and I hope you like it! I get the urge to write smut very occasionally and it was actually pretty fun to explore this side of a relationship with Din. Thanks to the lovely @decembermidnight for helping me out with this one and encouraging me through it! Very much a "Goooood Anakin, gooooood," dynamic. Nervous about posting this one so I'm going to run and hide now but hope you enjoyed it! :)

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

As you lie forlornly on your bunk, isolating yourself further from the man who has already put distance between the two of you, you rue the day you ever allowed yourself to enter into an arrangement with such an elusive man. You think back to all the moments you have shared since your paths first crossed, reminiscing over each one of your encounters.

Tonight is not the first night you chastise yourself for allowing yourself to become entangled with a Mandalorian; far from it.

Since you and Mando first started sleeping together, there have been frequent occasions when you have regretted the day that you gave into your desires and ever allowed yourself to end up underneath him, especially since he is so reclusive and aloof by nature. His reserved nature occasionally frustrates you, though you have always successfully hidden that. Well, almost always.

Mando’s withdrawn, quiet nature began as an attractive trait. His stoic, quiet nature first drew you to him as a business partner.

Except, now you have become something more to each other, such a trait prevents you from knowing him entirely.

And, boy, do you want to know him entirely.

Unfortunately, it seems as though you never will. A fact that you are painfully aware of now Mando cannot even stand to be in the same room as you. He is always hiding away in the cockpit.

You are frustrated at yourself for ever allowing yourself to feel so deeply for him.

What started as a casual arrangement is undeniably something more to you now. He means something more to you now. The man whose presence you cannot bear to be without. The man whose absence creates a great cavernous void in your chest that feels overwhelming.

The arrangement between you and Mando started as a physical release for you. A way to scratch an itch. With no strings attached, the arrangement was merely a way of passing time as you hurtled through hyperspace to collect the next bounty.

You were instantly attracted to Mando since you first glanced at him in the Cantina on Nevarro. With his broad shoulders, narrow waist and imposing form, it was impossible to tear your eyes away from him when he strode in. Even though mostly hidden beneath his armour, you were certain he was gorgeous.

Then you heard him speak.

Maker. His voice. So deep. His tone was so even, including when he was frustrated by the conversation with the head of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild on Nevarro. Even in the face of adversity, Mando kept his composure. The hulking warrior seemed so composed, so certain. His voice was calm and steady.

As a fellow member of The Guild, you were unable to resist the tempting urge to eavesdrop on his conversation with Greef Karga. You heard all about how Mando was struggling to afford the interest on paying off the ridiculous loan he had taken to buy the antiquated Razor Crest. You discovered he was having increasing difficulty covering the fuel that the old girl guzzled. After hearing about his predicament, an idea formed in your head.

It was rare for two members of The Guild to collaborate in such a way. After all, Mando should have been your competition. Something about him was drawing you to him, though. You felt compelled towards him, as though some invisible Force was pushing you together.

You proposed an arrangement to him.

In return for keeping the credits from your jobs, this mysterious Mandalorian would provide transport, lodgings and fuel in his ship. Considering it was an offer to have one of the best Bounty Hunters in the parsec come aboard his ship, you knew it was an offer he could not refuse. Sure enough, Mando accepted.

You had been together ever since.

At first, the arrangement was strictly business. You both kept yourselves to yourselves. Never prying into the other’s affairs.

However, after a couple of months spent traversing the galaxy together, there was a shift in your dynamic.

It turned out that two people existing together in a confined space with only each other to converse with to break the monotony of endless hyperspace lanes would find conversation and, eventually, friendship in each other. Despite their best efforts to avoid such a dynamic.

While friendship blossomed, so did other feelings.

You had never been able to deny your attraction to Mando to yourself. Pretty soon, you could not even deny it to him. Not when he asked you outright after imbibing one too many flagons of spotchka.

The first night you slept together was after a particularly heavy night of drinking at a seedy Cantina next to the shipyards of Corellia. There had been an unavoidable tension in the air that night. The alcohol had only enhanced your existing attraction towards each other to the point where it was no longer possible to ignore. The booze finally gave you the courage to vocalise them.

The tension which lingered in the air all evening was only magnified when you finally staggered back to the Razor Crest. It was practically suffocating being so close to him in that old ship.

In hoping that you would quickly fall into Mando’s bunk alongside him, you had vastly underrated the meticulousness of your business partner.

Even in your inebriated states, he had taken the time to lay out the ground rules. Despite how desperate you were for him, every inch of you aflame, Mando had insisted on setting some boundaries before your first time together.

Firstly, he insisted that sleeping together should not get in the way of your professional relationship. Mando would not give you favourable rates or discounts, nor would he expect them from you, just because you were sleeping together. He made it abundantly clear that, at any time, either of you could back out. The end of the arrangement would not impact your life together.

Secondly, there were no strings attached. No feelings. No declarations of love were wanted nor expected. Ideally, no emotions at all; this was strictly a physical relationship. You were to enjoy each other’s bodies and bring each other pleasure, but that did not necessarily mean that feelings ran any deeper than merely enjoying the way he relentlessly pounded into you, night after night, as you soared through the stars together.

Thirdly, and most importantly to Mando: the armour stayed on. All of it. Including the helmet. You were never, under any circumstances, to question this rule. You were never to attempt to remove any of his armour. If you did, it would not only terminate your physical arrangement with Mando. But your professional one, too.

You were so desperate to finally relieve the tension that had been simmering for months that you were more than happy to agree to terms.

You did not regret your decision for even a moment once Mando ended up in the bunk with you.

In allowing your desire for him to win out, you discovered that he was a skilled lover, even with the limitations of his armour. You could not touch him, see his face or feel his mouth, but he made it work. He always ensured you came first, knowing exactly how to please you.

Your encounters with Mando were a way to blow off steam, a release you both craved. It broke up journeys and brought you closer together. Your professional lives went from strength to strength. You were attuned to each other’s bodies. With each encounter, it felt as though you were slowly becoming one.

Even if you feared catching feelings for Mando, you always consoled yourself that it would never amount to anything. You were sure he did not feel for you in that way.

Whenever you doubted the arrangement, you thought about how the positives far outweighed the negatives. After all, keeping your sexual encounters in-house, so to speak, was a far safer option than putting yourselves in such a vulnerable position, entirely at the behest of others. Your reputation as a formidable bounty-hunting team preceded you throughout the galaxy. You were certain that there would be no shortage of people who would be keen to seduce you and Mando for their benefit.

The arrangement was perfect for both of you. It satisfied your carnal desires.

At least, at first, it did.

The closer you grew to Mando, the more your lives became intertwined, the more difficult it was to respect how strongly he felt about keeping himself covered when you slept together.

To begin with, Mando only took his cock out of the confines of his flightsuit. His armour remained on, digging into your skin. The various plates of his armour colliding roughly with your skin was a sensation you did not mind one bit, especially the touch of his cool beskar on your flushed skin.

Although you were entirely naked before him, with every inch of your skin displayed. At first, Mando did not even remove his gloves.

During those early encounters, you would barely even touch him. Fearful of being scolded, of ruining what you had. He often took you from behind, pounding into you after he bent you over the crates or the edge of his bunk. Sometimes on the cockpit's dashboard itself, if you were particularly desperate for each other and could not make it down the ladder to your bunk.

Still, the more you and Mando got intimate with one another, the more desperate you were to reach the man below.

When he finally allowed you to ride him as he sat on the red leather seat of the cockpit, your ass brushing against the cool metal of his thigh plates, you took your chance.

You frantically pushed through the coarse material of his cowl and moved the material which guarded his neck so you could place your lips upon the soft, golden skin you discovered there.

Mando did not seem to mind, never pushing you away.

It became a ritual whenever you slept together. You, delighting as you sucked marks that no one else would be able to see, while Mando groaned and praised you.

You knew the marks were just between the two of you, for your eyes only. Still, their presence nonetheless gave you a thrill in the days afterwards. Especially, when you saw him interacting with others. To know that you had marked him. You had claimed him as yours.

It was a heady prospect that this formidable Mandalorian warrior had been reduced to a whimpering mess by your lips, by such a simple act. He had allowed you to claim him.

It was also a dangerous prospect… to think of him as yours.

You did not dwell on it for too long, however.

After that first time you desperately sought out his skin as you rode him in the cockpit, something shifted deep within Mando.

That small action had clearly awakened some previously untouched feelings in him. The next time you slept together Mando allowed you to remove his flightsuit. You had not acknowledged this shift or dared to believe that it could mean that he held any deeper feelings for you than the lust and desperation borne out of your encounters.

Still, from that day forth, rather than just taking his impressive length out and nothing else, he would undress himself and wait for you on the bunk, clad in nothing but his helmet.

It was a sign of ultimate trust. Of vulnerability from a man who you knew rarely allowed himself to feel such an emotion.

Now you lie here despondently at the knowledge that you have ruined everything.

Your heart constricts as you remember how close you and Mando once had been. How much you had trusted each other. Entirely. Unquestioningly.

Those times seem so distant now.

Now that you and Mando have stopped speaking.

Since your last encounter more than a week ago, which happened in the aftermath of a particularly stressful job on the forest planet where you had collected your latest bounty, he has not said a word to you.

Mando has been completely ignoring your existence… and you have a pretty good idea as to the reason why.

In fact, as you think back to your most recent encounter, turning over the thoughts in your mind once again, you are certain of the moment you ruined everything…

✯✯✯✯✯

You had barely made it to the bunk, so desperate for each other after spending days camped out in the undergrowth. Dirt still clung to your pores, invading every crease of your body. There had been no opportunity to use the sonic. You were preoccupied with loading up the bounty, as Mando started the Razor Crest’s launch sequence. Despite your dishevelled, filthy appearance, Mando did not seem to mind. He initiated another encounter without hesitation.

Your condition seemed to unlock something primal within him when you bore yourself to him, traces of dirt on your skin. The musky scent of the forest planet clung to him as he bared his hulking form to you after stripping out of his flightsuit. He was feral, desperate for you as he pounded into you at a merciless pace. Mando moaned loudly and chanted your name as though it were a sacred prayer until he finished with one long growl of your name in his deep, gravelly voice that strained under each syllable.

In the aftermath, as you lay on his strong chest, you allowed your mind to wander. You wondered what the man beneath the helmet looked like. Whether he was as attractive as the rest of his body suggested. His body was firm and toned without being overwhelmingly muscular. There was a softness to his belly and chest you appreciated. A physique more than appropriate for a man of his age.

You ached to move your hands beneath his helmet, tracing his features with your fingers so that you may see him in the only way possible for you to do so. To catch the vaguest of glimpses of the man who had brought you so much pleasure over the last few months.

Still blissed out from your multiple orgasms and barely comprehending the gravity of your words and how dangerously close to the line you were stepping, you said something which you wished you could take back almost as soon as the words were out of your mouth.

“I wish I could see your face when you moan my name, Mando,” you sighed as you lay there in the afterglow.

The shift was immediate. You felt Mando tense beneath you. Your comment had unsettled him. The guilt was immediate.

“Wait, Mando,” you quickly added, your blood ran cold as you realised your carelessness, “I wasn’t asking you to remove it… I was just thinking out loud. Please, Mando, I…”

Your words were cut off when he shuffled out from beneath you, disentangling himself from your limbs that had been entwined ever since you collapsed in a heap of breathless satisfaction after your latest encounter.

Without uttering a single word to you, you heard Mando’s heavy footsteps echo throughout the metallic hull and disappear into the fresher to finally wash the grime from his body.

When he finally exited, you attempted to apologise to him one more time. Unfortunately, he was thoroughly uninterested in anything you had to say. You stood before him, the threadbare blanket from the bunk wrapped around you, pleading for mercy. A formidable bounty hunter reduced to a trembling wreck, begging for Mando's forgiveness. Mando did not respond to anything you said. Instead, he immediately excused himself while mumbling about checking the hyperdrive generator.

✯✯✯✯✯

Throughout the last few miserable days, you have distracted yourself from the uneasy atmosphere which hangs heavy in the ship by thoroughly polishing each one of your blasters and thinking back to happier times.

Like the time when Mando stripped himself from his flightsuit for the first time and allowed you to finally see him almost entirely. As entirely as you ever would.

The way his taut, toned flesh felt underneath your fingers as you traced each ridge of his muscles with delicate, tentative fingers. His sweaty skin slapped against yours, an obscene noise which reverberated throughout the rest of the ship.

As you lie back on your bunk, you cannot help your fingers trailing down your abdomen. Lower and lower until they reach between your thighs.

You are stunned by how wet you are before you have even touched yourself, so turned on by merely the memories of Mando.

You gather your wetness with your fingers before you begin moving them in a circular motion over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

You think back to that first time you laid eyes upon Mando. His impressive physique. The way he picked up the pace to fuck you even harder when you raked your nails down his flesh. Moaning and grunting into your neck as you left marks down his broad back.

You remember the unmistakable scent of sex that lingered in the air afterwards, amplified by the fact there were now two bare bodies during your encounters, not just one. It was almost overwhelming to your senses, the scent of him. So masculine and musky. So Mando.

You groan at the memory, clenching around nothing. You feel so empty, desperate to feel the delicious burn as Mando’s thick cock stretches you and reaches parts of you never filled before. You slide two fingers inside yourself and begin thrusting out. Although it satisfies the ache, it pales in comparison to the fullness and completeness you feel whenever Mando snaps his hips forward and thrusts into you in one fluid motion.

You try to remember how he felt, pathetically imagining that your fingers are in any way comparable to his touch. To his length. It is the best you are going to get, for now.

Your nipples pebble and tighten beneath the thin cotton shirt you wear. The material provides some friction, but nothing as satisfying as when Mando would roll them between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to throw your head back in ecstasy. Still, you moan at the memory, continuing to thrust your fingers inside of you with one hand while the other massages your clit.

“Mando,” you gasp when you pick the pace up.

Both hands and your fingers working in tandem still are nowhere near as satisfying as even one of Mando’s thick, calloused digits.

“Kriff, Mando!” you yell as your legs begin trembling.

You are so close now. That familiar feeling builds somewhere deep inside of you. A coil tightening, ready to release.

A familiar voice behind you, tone full of concern, “Are you okay? I heard–” followed by a gasp of surprise and hastily retreating footsteps kills the mood instantly.

“Sith hells!” you exclaim, annoyed to have been interrupted when you were so close to climax.

That frustrated feeling soon gives way to embarrassment as you realise that Mando probably heard you from all the way up in the cockpit. He has spent much of his time up there, only descending the ladder to use the fresher or prepare himself rations. Even then, he usually only comes down when he can hear that you have sealed yourself into your bunk for the night.

You must have called his name far louder than you had realised in the throes of passion. You wonder how you will ever face him again. You pull your pants up and step out of the bunk, keen to at least attempt to converse with the stubborn buckethead.

Fortunately, you do not have to wait long. Mando soon emerges from the fresher. There is an awkward silence. He stands there, clad in his flightsuit and helmet, clenching and unclenching his gloved fists at his sides repeatedly. It is a mannerism you recognise well, usually seen when he is trying to size up a target or decide his next move. Is that how he sees you—as prey?!

“Mando,” you breathe, “Please, can we talk?”

Mando does not move a muscle. He stands perfectly still, at full height. A looming, intimidating presence in the darkness of the hull.

“Look, I know I upset you the other day,” you begin, sincerely laying out your feelings and hoping that he comprehends how remorseful you are. “I’m so sorry, Mando. Please believe me. I know what I said was thoughtless, but I wasn’t thinking. I would never expect you to take your helmet off for me. I know how much being a Mandalorian means to you. I would never try to come between you and your Creed,” you promise.

You briefly pause, searching Mando’s body language for the smallest clue as to his feelings. Unfortunately, he is so used to hiding his emotions from the rest of the galaxy that you cannot glean even a crumb of information.

“I miss you, Mando,” you sigh, “And not just like that!” you hastily add, hoping that he does not think your apology is in any way related to the compromising position he just caught you in.

Mando remains perfectly still. It’s progress, at least. He has not retreated. You take that as a sign to continue.

“I miss the nights we spent together in the cockpit, sharing memories of our past and discussing our hopes for the future. The way you would always make sure there was a warm cup of caf for me each morning when I finally hauled myself from the bunk. You were always so eager to rise, while I have never been a morning person,” you smile fondly, attempting to fight the tears that have suddenly pooled on your waterline. “Remember when you showed me each of your weapons? Showing me just how you liked them polished and ordered. Somewhere along the way, they became our arsenal, Mando. Our weapons are together in the locker, side-by-side. Just like us.”

You finally get the first clue of the impact your words are having on Mando when his broad shoulders rise and fall. The shaky breath he takes is amplified by his vocoder. Reminiscing has left him emotional on some level, too. It’s a positive sign. You make headway with it.

“I will forever be grateful for the day I overheard that conversation with Karga in that Cantina on Nevarro. Even though I used to curse this ship after I first came aboard, I think it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Without it and the loan you took out to cover costs, you would never have required someone else. I know…” you sigh, choosing your next words carefully as you are painfully aware that you are likely going to come dangerously close to overstepping another boundary. “I know that you do not always take kindly to strangers, Mando. I know that you have been alone for so long that you have probably forgotten what it feels like to be with someone else. But what we had was something special. I miss that. I miss us, Mando.”

Mando’s helmet falls, then. His unrelenting, steely gaze is finally off you. You are getting through to him. You keep talking, hoping that your words have the desired effect.

“You mean so much more to me than our encounters, Mando,” you confess. “I enjoyed every second, don’t get me wrong. But I would take them all back in a heartbeat to go back to how things were before. I would rather have only had you in my life platonically than having you like that and losing you…

What happens next catches you completely off-guard.

Firstly, Mando tilts his helmet up. His helmet is finally level with you again, focused on you. You look into the dark, T-visor where you imagine his eyes would be. You can almost feel his eyes on you. Your heart starts thundering. You feel that connection back. That spark.

Before you even have time to digest his actions, Mando’s deep voice finally breaks the silence:

“I love you,” he says simply.

Does he love you?! You are sure you misheard him. Your desperate mind is playing the cruellest trick of all.

“Y-You love me?” you choke out in disbelief.

“I do.”

“Oh, Mando, I love you too,” you tearfully whisper.

“Din,” Mando rasps.

You look at him questioningly.

“My name,” Mando nods, “It’s Din. Din Djarin.”

“Din Djarin,” you murmur the name of the man you love with such reverence, as though it is a sacred prayer, enjoying the way your mouth curves around each letter.

Your head is still spinning from Din’s declaration and the reveal of his name. You have barely had time to process the events which have just transpired when he drops the next bombshell on you.

“I want to remove my helmet in front of you,” Din declares, “I want you to know me entirely.”

“Din, I wouldn’t expect such a thing,” you shake your head frantically, “Just because we have confessed our feelings, I would never expect you to take such a drastic step.”

“That…” he sighs, “Is precisely why I am taking such a step.”

You do not have time to vocalise any further protestations. Before another thought can enter your mind, Din lifts shaky gloved hands to the side of his helmet. You hear the unmistakable sound of a Mandalorian helmet depressurising. Something you had only ever heard through the door of the fresher until now.

Din trembles as he lifts his helmet. The emotion of the moment takes its toll as he prepares to finally bear his face to you. Your mind almost goes blank. All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and his heavy breaths.

As the gleaming helmet finally begins to lift across his features and reveal his face to you, you get your first glimpse of the man you love.

You see patchy stubble across his jawline, a neatly trimmed moustache plush which sits atop plush, full lips, a strong nose and then, with his helmet fully removed, his most striking feature of all. His eyes. The most soulful pair of deep brown eyes that you have ever encountered.

Din Djarin is stunning. Heartachingly so.

With just one look at his face, you know that you will never be able to allow this beautiful man to slip through your fingers.

“Din,” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears as he stands there before you, his helmet clutched before him as he looks up at you.

There is so much nervousness and anxiety in his gaze that your heart aches for him. Unable to bear the eye contact any longer, Din bends down and places his helmet at his feet with a satisfying clunk.

He stands up straight again, but not to his full height. With his face bared and the slight tremble evident in his body. You no longer see a hulking Mandalorian warrior and feared bounty hunter. Instead, you see a frightened man, who has never known such intimacy before.

“You are so handsome, Din Djarin,” you whisper, as you close the distance between you.

Din’s mouth hangs open as your words sink in. You raise your hand, realising you are trembling with emotion, and timidly place it along his jawline. The patchy stubble is scratchy underneath your fingers.

“Devastatingly handsome, in fact,” you clarify.

“Thank you,” Din nods gratefully.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Din swallows thickly, steadying himself. When his brown eyes fly open and meet yours again, you notice the apprehension has been replaced by something different altogether.

Din’s brown eyes are aflame, burning with desire for you. You sense he is desperate to act on his feelings, but unsure of how to proceed.

“Can I kiss you?” you request.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” Din murmurs, closing his eyes again.

“You’ll learn quickly,” you say encouragingly.

Din nods slowly, without opening his eyes.

You close the distance between you, hovering an inch from his lips. You want Din to make the final move, to bring your lips together.

When he finally does, it is so achingly sweet and timid that you are surprised this is the same man who has bent you over crates and driven into you over and over, at a relentless pace. Until you were bruised and sore the next day from the force.

Din pulls away, breathing deeply. A simple touch has been almost overwhelming for him.

You wait for his next move, allowing him to take the lead with what he is comfortable with. When Din finally leans in again, he is more eager to claim your lips. The kisses deepen, growing increasingly frenzied as your tongues collide. Your hand trails along Din’s jawline and grazes along his neck. When you move your hands into his hair and tangle your fingers in the soft strands there, Din groans and presses his body against you.

In response, you lean your head to the side to give him unfettered access to your mouth. Din does not hesitate to take advantage, deepening the kiss without hesitation. He moves his enormous hands up to your cheeks, cupping them in his enormous hands.

Your kisses grow more desperate and frenzied, the moaning and panting increasing. Although Din was inexperienced and clumsy at first, your teeth clashing and his tongue searching yours desperately before he learned a more pleasurable ratio of tongue to mouth, you discover that he is indeed a quick learner. He nibbles on your lip, using his teeth in a way that he discovers you like as you throw your head backwards and gasp his name. You are still getting accustomed to the novelty of being able to call him something other than Mando.

When your lungs burn, Din finally pulls away. The two of you furiously gulp air into your lungs, steadying your breaths as your eyes meet. You allow yourself to look at Din once again, admiring the features which are so new to you. Yet somehow, comfortingly familiar. You feel as though you have always known his face. In Din’s brown eyes, you see awe, shock and lust. Despite their already dark colour, they are blackened by something primal.

You are about to suggest taking this to your bunk when Din drops to his knees before you, a dark look on his face. You are about to question the gesture when he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of your pants and shimmies them down your legs as he goes.

He kisses a path up your legs, pushing himself up so he kneels one leg as he pays particular attention to your inner thighs. Din takes his time teasing you. He removes the final barrier between you, discarding the pesky fabric elsewhere.

When Din finally kneels before you, your glistening core bare to him you feel your knees weaken as he licks his lips at the sight in front of him. You groan, barely able to remain vertical. Thankfully, Din is holding your hips firmly in position, his gloved hands digging into your flesh.

At the sight of him on his knees like this before you, you think that this experience cannot possibly be any more arousing.

Then, his tongue touches you where you have been aching for him to place his mouth most of all, and you discover how wrong you were.

He wastes no time sliding his tongue through your wet folds. Din makes up for his inexperience with enthusiasm and you move your hands down to run your fingers through his soft, dark curls. Keen to keep him in just the right spot, especially when he finally places his tongue where your fingers had been frantically circling minutes ago.

“Din!” you gasp, when his tongue picks up its pace, clenching your thighs around his head and feeling his facial hair tickle your inner thighs.

Hearing his name fall from your lips in such a desperate manner only encourages him. He continues lapping at your core with a renewed fire and determination.

“Just there, just like that,” you praise.

Din continues for a few more moments and you feel your orgasm gathering pace within you. When your legs begin to shake, he moves his head back and you almost scream in frustration. But then you see the look on his face, and his sins are soon forgiven.

“Know how long I’ve wanted to bury my face between your thighs?” Din rasps, his voice barely audible and muffled thanks to his current position. “So beautiful,” he adds, before his tongue is on you again and all coherent thought leaves.

The pace is relentless now, Din swirling his tongue around your most sensitive spot as he seems driven to please you. To have you screaming his name so loud they can hear you all across the galaxy.

You chant his name over and over as your orgasm finally breaks, causing pleasure to reverberate throughout your body. Every inch of you is on fire for him. Din looks up at you, his brown eyes practically black. He makes an obscene slurping noise as he seems determined to collect everything on his tongue, not allowing a single drop of you to go to waste.

“Delicious,” Din rasps as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at you with a satisfied smirk.

You cannot believe how much he seems to relish in your release. How much it arouses him. You know he has always enjoyed pleasing you, just as much as receiving his release. Now, his benevolent nature is on full display once again.

Satisfied you can at least stand by yourself, Din rises to his feet. He looms over you, eyes meeting yours and softening briefly, with something which looks suspiciously like love. You wonder how long he has looked at you like that. How many affectionate glances have been stolen from your eyes by his helmet?

None of that matters, now.

Your train of thought is interrupted as Din resumes kissing you, pinning you up against the cold metallic walls of the Razor Crest. You can barely breathe, unable to move for a few moments as he kisses you. Once you regain feeling in your trembling legs, you begin nudging Din in the direction of the bunk.

He never breaks the kiss as you stumble across the floor. Din cannot get enough of kissing you, his enormous hands roaming all over your body.

The kiss is only broken once the back of your knees hits the bunk. You sit on the hard surface, looking up at him flirtatiously through your eyelashes. You decide Din is far too clothed for your liking and move to free his straining bulge from his tight brown flightsuit. Before you can feel his familiar length in your hand, he places his hand on your wrist and moves you away from him.

You look at him in confusion before he whispers, “Lie back, cyar’ika. Let me take care of you.”

You do as he says, but not before divesting yourself of your clothes. You lie back, awaiting him. Buzzing with excitement to finally lay eyes on Din Djarin in his entirety.

You are entranced as you watch his muscles contract and relax as he removes his flightsuit. Broad muscles and chest bared to you, then his stomach and lower... his muscular thighs and toned calves. The most incredible sight you have ever seen.

Din crawls up the bunk and positions himself on top of you, supporting himself with his elbows as he resumes your makeout session with just as much veracity as before. He plunges his tongue into your mouth over and over, desperate to taste you.

It seems as though Din is scared that he will never have a chance to claim you like this again. Later, you will remind him that you are his for the rest of your days.

For now, you cannot form words, conveying your pleasure only through broken sounds which are torn from your body by Din’s skilled mouth.

The usual straining metallic groans of the Razor Crest as it hurtles through hyperspace are joined by its occupants’ moans and gasps as they collide.

You notice that Din has finally shed his gloves when he takes your breasts in his hands. Squeezing the soft flesh and staring at them as though it is the first time he has ever laid eyes upon them. In a way, it is the first time he has seen many of your features with his own eyes, finally free from the dark visor that distorts everything.

Suddenly remembering he can take your flesh in his mouth, Din begins kissing the valley between your breasts. He trails kisses along both of them, one at a time, paying them equal attention. As though he is worshipping you. Discovering new ways he can show his affection for you. With his helmet removed, an entire galaxy of new possibilities has been opened to him. Now, there are so many ways to demonstrate his affection for you, to revere all the parts of your body he loves so much.

Although you are enjoying his ministrations, you are growing somewhat frustrated by Din’s languid pace. The frenzied kisses and touches have given way to gentle, almost timid, exploration of your body from Din’s lips. When you are about to whine pathetically and beg him to pay attention to your aching buds, Din finally envelops them in his wet heat. He begins paying careful attention to the most sensitive part of your breast. The place where you most wanted his mouth.

You gasp as he begins mouthing sloppy kisses around your nipple, before finally swirling his tongue around your hardened peak. You arch your back off the bunk, giving more of yourself to him. Even in your desire-addled state, you think about how much better his mouth feels than gloved fingers and hands kneading your breasts.

You grind your hips up against Din’s hardness, desperate for some friction. Clenching around nothing as he continues sucking your nipple, each swirl of his tongue only making you more desperate for him.

When you can take it no longer, you place your hand on Din’s head and pull his hair lightly. He looks up at you, raising a dark eyebrow at you.

“Din, please,” you whine, desperate for him to finally take you.

Often, the man you knew only as Mando would tease you at this point. When he had used his deft fingers to draw an orgasm or two from you, leaving you desperate for him. You knew he was satisfied that you were ready for him, but he still wanted to hear it from your mouth. Before giving you what you wanted, he would command you to use your words in a firm tone. Imploring you to tell him where you wanted him.

Fortunately, it appears that the man who has confessed his love for you, will not cruelly tease you. Din is just as desperate as you are; aching for that moment when he finally enters you.

Din kisses a hot trail up the column of your neck, thrusting his hips against you in desperation. He joins his lips with yours one last time before leaning up and taking himself in hand to line himself up with you.

“Wanted to savour this moment but, kriff! You’re so perfect…” Din rambles, “Don’t think I can wait,” he grunts as he notches himself at your entrance.

“Then don’t,” you sigh, begging him to put you both out of your misery.

Din nods, joining your lips one last time before he slides himself into you in one swift, fluid moment. You practically see stars.

Somehow, he feels even bigger. It has not been too long since your last encounter. Even still, you have forgotten how impressive his length is. Your fantasies could not accurately capture how his hardness touches places so deep inside of you that you wonder how it is possible.

Although the friction and sensation are delicious, particularly as Din keeps pressing kisses all over your face and neck, you know that you won’t last long. Since Din caught you earlier when you were so close, you have been on the edge almost continually. Now, he is thrusting into you at a relentless pace. That familiar ache is back. This time, there are no interruptions. Din does not slow down or pull away. You quickly come with another gasp of his name.

After watching you come undone, you are surprised that Din does not let himself go. That he does not allow himself the release you sense he is so desperately chasing. Instead, he continues to ride out your orgasm as he thrusts into you harshly.

“One more,” Din encourages, cupping your cheek in his hand, “I know you have one more for me.”

You nod shakily, eager to please him. In response, Din clashes your lips together, grunting against your lips as he finds a new increased tempo that you are stunned he could muster. All the while impressively maintaining a steady rhythm.

“That’s it,” Din encourages as he feels the way your pants increase and your legs tremble.

When you come with another shout of his name, Din finally lets himself go. His thrusts become increasingly erratic before he finally comes with a shout of your name, burying his face into your neck. His pants are warm against your neck as he paints your belly with hot, thick ropes of his spend.

Din stays like that for a few more moments, careful not to hurt you with his weight as he regains his composure lying on top of you. You feel so content and begin absentmindedly tracing circles into his warm, broad back.

Then, he lifts himself from you. You smile when he lays his head next to you on the pillow, still feeling your heart leap as you realise that you actually get to look at his face. Din looks thoroughly pleased with the events of the night. Happy that he could please you over and over.

“I love you, Din Djarin,” you whisper fondly as you bring your hand up to his jawline, stroking his cheek softly with your thumb.

“I love you too, ner kar’ta,” Din smiles in return, turning his cheek to press a kiss on the palm of your hand.

Since that first encounter in the Cantina on Nevarro, you and Mando have always been partners. Travelling through the galaxy as a formidable, feared pair of bounty hunters.

Now, you and Din are partners… in every sense of the word.

#din djarin fic #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #mando smut #my fics #BYE hope you like this

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the-scandalorian · 1 month

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Pairing: Din Djarin x female sex worker!reader Rating: E, 18+ Word Count: 3.1k Content Warnings: touch-starved Din; reader is blindfolded; smut Summary: Mando makes regular visits to the healing baths. Note: A big thank you to @frannyzooey for always enabling my depravity and finding the dope ass images for my header ❤︎

He always waits for you inside the door.

“It’s the least I can do,” he says, when you’re surprised by the unexpected touch the first time. A light hand cups your elbow, guiding you to the middle of the room, until you can feel the smooth tiles that mark the edge of the sunken pool with your bare toes.

The marble is slick with condensation, heated by the same geothermal source that warms the spring water. The air is steamy and humid, braided with the rich scents of cardamom and argan oil, of rose from the petals you know are strewn across the surface of the bath. Candles flicker languidly in the shadowy corners of the room, but you can’t detect any of their light.

When you lower yourself to the floor—carefully, blindly—he checks the tightness of the black silk wrapped around your eyes with gentle fingers. He reassures himself it’s secure, that you can’t see a thing through the fabric in the dark, hazy room. A reassurance he needs every time.

You come to expect it. To expect him.

He’s consistent. He’s hesitant.

It takes dozens of visits before he lets you join him in the bath. You always offer; he always refuses—politely, always so politely: a no, thank you, eventually paired with a fleeting touch. A warm hand placed over yours. Two fingers stroked down the red silk of your dress. If you’re lucky, a squeeze to the thick of your thigh or a graze of your cheek. His denial is so soft, so warm—so regretful—that you ask every time just to hear him want it.

When he inevitably says no, you sit behind him on a velvet cushion on the edge of the pool instead, swathed in the inky blackness of your blindfold, your feet dangling in the warm water, and work scented oils into his skin and tension out of his shoulders, his neck, his arms, his back, his chest. Your existence is reduced to tactile information, your world narrowed to the sensations in your hands—the textures at the tips of your fingers. The taut muscles of his shoulders, the raised scars that litter his arms and chest, the hair dusted over his pectorals, the callouses on his palms. All slick with water, slippery with massage oil.

The helmet stays on for the first handful of visits. You know by the modulated sound of his voice, by the brush of beskar against your wrist when you work a knuckle into the base of his stiff neck. It disappears somewhere around the tenth visit. When he meets you at the door, your name sounds markedly different. You don’t mention it, don’t draw attention to it, but you do enjoy the unfiltered, raw quality of his voice from then on.

The noises he makes when you touch him are always better than you remember. Their tone and cadence mark a gradual progression from high strung and uneasy to mellow and sedate as the tension coiled in his muscles dissipates under your hands. The harsh exhales devolve into low groans, quiet grunts. Sounds of pleasure waited too long to be had, of physical release so desperately needed. Every once in a while, when you work out a particularly stubborn knot, he murmurs a hushed, rumbling oh, fuck.

Once, when you earn a delicious moan paired with a strained, needy fuck, just like that, he bites off the last word so harshly that you know it was involuntary.

It turns you on more than the touch of any client ever has.

Even with the blindfold, you can feel the burn of his eyes on your skin. Its weight is familiar from the start, when you meet him at the entrance to the baths, the echoing stone entry hall with its gilded fixtures and branches of guttering candles. A balled fist rested on the counter, he nods at you in all his armored glory, a cordial gesture that seems to gain gravity and intimacy each time he offers it. The black visor follows your walk down the long hallway to your rooms, dips to your hips when he thinks you’re not looking. Heavy, substantial. Pressure that could be measured, harsh enough to leave an imprint in its wake.

It stays on you until you shut the door between you, leaving you in the antechamber to tie on your blindfold and him in the main room to undress.

When you knock and enter, you can still track his gaze despite the layers of black silk—the feeling of it like a searing brand. Settled on your face when you smile up at him. Dragged over the curves of your breasts when you shamelessly tip forward to trail fingers through the water and they just barely begin to spill over the low cut of your dress. Trained on the movement of your tongue when you part your lips and lick a slow, gratuitous line over the bottom one. Riveted to the dark space between your legs when you spread your knees unnecessarily wide and the fabric of your thin, short dress rides up your thighs.

You tell yourself not to hope for more.

Then one day he shows up, and you can tell something is off. His usual steady, controlled energy has been replaced with a pent-up buzz. He’s worked up. You can hear it in his clipped words, feel it in the extra touches. The hand on your lower back guides you to the pool almost hurriedly.

His shoulders are even tighter than usual when you get your hands on them, his back a series of stony knots. He groans when you work at the tension in his neck, your thumbs digging into the tautness at the base of his skull. And when you offer yourself this time, feeling optimistic that you’ll get your most reluctant no yet, a strong hand guides you slowly and wordlessly down the smooth stone steps to join him in the water.

Reflexively, you pull your dress up and over your head, tossing it behind you before the hem can catch in the water. You lose his touch in the process, but a path of goosebumps down your body echoes the course of his gaze as it pulls along your curves. You can feel his attention, his captivation at your nakedness in the fervent tension that snaps taut between you.

His invitation is so unexpected, though, that once you’re standing in the hot, waist-deep water, you’re stunned motionless. Disoriented. You don’t know where he is for a moment; you feel his hot gaze everywhere, all at once. You never actually thought you’d get this far with him, and now it feels daunting—the darkness of blindfold, the ever-changing line of his limits and preferences. You feel untethered.

Until the water shifts and he touches you.

“Beautiful,” he says, damp fingers following the curve of your cheek so lightly you can only just feel them.

You take his hand in both of yours and kiss his palm, soft lips brushing over rough skin. He catches you under your chin, and one fingertip traces your lips, his other hand settling on your waist, flexing.

You don’t want to push him too fast, and you also want to take full advantage of this opportunity while you finally have it.

You part your lips, and his fingers still.

You let your tongue peek out to circle the pad of one finger, inviting. To your delight, he responds by carefully pushing two fingers into your mouth. When you close your lips around them and suck, he lets out a broken, pained sound, pressing down on your tongue lightly before he eases them back out and drags a wet line down your chin to settle his hand around your throat.

You smile up at him, unseeing, as you trail fingers down his chest, the soft give of his stomach, dipping below the water as you reach the ridge of his hipbone. Moving slowly, always slowly, so he can stop you if he wants to.

Sure enough, his hand finds yours, trapping it against his skin. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to," you interrupt. "I want to touch you.”

It’s an understatement. There isn’t enough time to share all the myriad ways you’ve fantasized about touching him.

“I’ve thought about this since the first time I saw you walk in here in your armor,” you say, letting your voice pitch low. “What you’d feel like under all that metal.”

His hand disappears, and yours slips further down the v of his hips to wrap around the base of his cock. Hard, thick, big like you knew it would be.

“I think about it every time I work my way down your chest. How easy it would be to slip my hands lower...to see if you enjoy having my hands on your body as much as I do.”

He breathes out slowly, but his whole body is rigid as you drag your other hand over his shoulder, down his chest, a granite statue under your touch even as you start to work him over in long, luxurious strokes.

“I’ve been dying to know, Mando.”

His cock twitches in your hand, his skin hot and slick as it pulls over his hard length. He isn’t relaxing into your touch like he usually does, and this white-knuckled, shallow-breath, penitent version of pleasure is not at all what you’d intended for him, what he deserves.

You tip your face up toward his. “I need you to relax for me. Can you do that?”

A rough exhalation. Noncommittal, a little wry.

You step closer, gingerly moving into his space. He lets you. The water shifts around you as you move into him, close enough that your breasts brush his warm body and you can place a soft kiss on his chest. His ribs expand in a rapid, deep inhale, a rough hitching breath, and his hand comes up to cup the back of your neck.

You press him backward with a palm to his sternum, and he resists reflexively, his feet planted firmly. A man not so easily moved. Who is used to doing the telling, not being told.

“Sit for me?”

He relents with a hum, going pliant for you as you back him up to sit on the submerged marble bench. He helps you climb up, strong hands guiding your movements, settling you onto your knees in a straddle over his lap.

You dip your head to find the crook of his neck and lavish open-mouthed kisses on his throat, below his ear, automatically respecting the limits of where his helmet would be, as you move your hand between your bodies. You’ve never touched above his neck and won’t change that now, even though you’re dying to trace the contours of his face, to fit your lips to his.

Perched over him, you can feel his body gradually relax under your attention, his posture softening, his breath dropping into a more natural cadence. His hands find your hips, your thighs, slide back to grip your ass, as you begin to increase the pace of your stroke.

“Have you, Mando? Have you thought about this?”

You feel him nod once against the side of your head. Jerky, frantic.

“Good,” you purr into his skin, letting your teeth drag over his collarbone.

He groans, his hips lifting off the bench to push himself into your grip harder. The heat that always simmers in your core when you’re around him grows and spreads. It’s overwhelming—so much of his bare skin on your bare skin, after so long with so little. Almost feverish as you move together in the hot water.

Your hand pauses mid-stroke; his hands tighten in protest, sliding you a tiny bit closer on his tense thighs. “Do you think about me?”

His ragged breathing stalls. He nods again. “All the time.”

You hum, pleased, and resume the tight pull of your fist. Your own arousal is approaching a blistering point, so hot and bright, and he’s barely touching you—one hand on your ass, the other dragged up your body to palm your breast, his strong thighs pressed to the inside of yours. He rolls your nipple between two fingers, and you gasp.

“Feel so good,” he rasps, the heavy weight of his hands reverent as they catalog the slopes and rises of your body. “Just like I imagined.”

You can’t help but think about how easily you could sit on his cock right now. All it would take is a slight shift and tilt of your hips and you could catch the blunt head at your entrance. He’d stretch you so deliciously—that girth and length—but your wetness would let you work yourself down onto his lap until he was filling you completely. You’d fuck an orgasm out of him, riding him until he found his release in the tight clutch of your body, milking his cock until he shuddered from the oversensitivity.

One day. Maybe.

He’s close—you can tell by the strain in his voice, by his ragged breath, by the way his hands tighten on your ass. By the way he wraps one large hand around yours on his cock, tightening your grip.

“Just like that.”

You’d give anything to see his face when you feel the urgent flex of his hips as he fucks into your joined hands, the jerk and shudder of his large frame as it curves over you, his forehead dropping to rest heavily on your shoulder as he moans brokenly through the pleasure. It’s the most intimate part of all of this—so human, so trusting. So tempting to reach up and touch his face, to put detail to what you’ve imagined so many times.

You regret that your hand is submerged in water, that you can’t feel his hot release slide over the dips and swells of your knuckles. That you won't be able to lick it off your fingers—to taste it, for your own pleasure and for his. To listen to the sounds he’d make as he watched you eat his come.

Instead, when it’s over, when he’s finished, the weight of his forehead lifts from your shoulder and his touch abandons your body. You resist the urge to search it out, to ask for it back.

You imagine how he looks unwound underneath you, his head tipped back against the edge of the pool, muscles slack. His body finally truly relaxed.

Your part is done.

He’s never spent this long here, and you imagine he’s hyperaware of that. Always on a timeline. Some small part of you thought maybe—hoped—this time would be different, that maybe he’d linger, that maybe he’d want to touch you. You slide backward off his lap to take your leave reluctantly, but when you reach blindly for the edge of the pool, there’s the sound of quick movement through the water and he closes a hand around your wrist.

Relief courses through your veins.

He doesn’t say anything, just guides you. You can’t tell what his aim is until he arranges your body over his just so—just the way he wants you. He has you straddle his lap backwards this time, your back flush to his chest, your knees opened wide by the spread of his legs between yours.

You think about what he does for work, the command and skill it requires. Those capable hands and sure grip have wrestled so many bounties into submission—into handcuffs, into rope bindings, into his carbonite chamber—and here they are exerting their power and ability for the sake of your pleasure. Blunt instrument, suddenly fine.

His breath is hot by your ear, his heavy hand settling meaningfully on your inner thigh. “Can I—?”

“Yes. Fuck, please—”

You guide his hand between your legs, desperate, and his mouth finds the back of your neck. His mouth. Stubble scrapes across your skin, soft lips molding to the contour of your shoulder. The heat that’s been building in your body, that started as a low smolder in your core, has been growing to a rolling boil the whole time you were touching him. And his mouth on your body? Like striking a match to gasoline.

The reality of the situation, the surprise of this touch, ratchets your arousal to a precipitous height. It’s the sheer brazenness of it—the unflinching way he’s taking such a huge step. In the name of your pleasure, of his desire to taste you.

The offering of such intimacy, a secret shared.

A warm tongue blazes a lazy trail from the notch of your vertebra to your nape as two fingers slip into the slit of your sex, beginning a slow massage of your clit. Your mind goes blank.

It’s almost embarrassing how easily he makes you come, how little time it takes with his hand between your legs and his lips on your skin. He fucks you with two thick fingers, another swirling over your clit, and you wonder vaguely how he knows how to curl the two inside you just right against your g-spot.

You reach behind you to grip the back of his neck as you arch, your hips circling. He hooks his chin over your shoulder and you go molten at the thought that he’s watching himself finger-fuck you to climax.

“Are you going to—?”

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good.”

It's said through clenched teeth, a gritted jaw. He’s deriving so much pleasure from your pleasure, it's dizzying.

Teeth close over your shoulder and he bites down as you begin shudder and shake, as you clench and spasm around the thrust of his fingers—as you listen to his voice break on a groan as he feels it and draws it out—until the pleasure wanes and you melt back against him, boneless and sated, his strong body an anchor underneath you in the water.

You pant together, your head tipped back to rest on his shoulder, and all you can think about is how fucking close his lips are to yours. You could turn your face and kiss his jaw. He could angle your head and push his tongue into your mouth so easily. You’re so pliant; you want it so badly.

You consider asking. And then you consider the fact that he’s likely thinking about the same thing—your closeness is palpable, the tension a live, shivering thing—and he isn’t doing anything about it. He isn’t fitting a hand to your cheek to maneuver you just so.

You won’t ask for something he isn’t ready to offer.

When he finally does let you go, this visit that was so different from the others ends the same. He guides you back to the exit and hands you the robe that hangs by the door. As he helps you shoulder it on, he murmurs a sincere thank you, accompanied by a rumble of your name.

There’s one notable difference: as you're walking through the doorway, he catches your hand and squeezes it fleetingly before letting it drop.

The door shuts behind you with a click.

As always, a stack of credits far too high will be left in the room for you, and just like every other time, you’ll wait impatiently for his return.

#din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #mando x you #din djarin x f!reader #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x female reader #mando x female reader #the mandalorian x female reader

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undercoverpena · 2 months

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cold, lips blue

din djarin x f!reader | masterlist

summary: din takes you to see the snow, and then uses his body heat to warm you up.

warnings: softest smut soft!din. p in v. no use of y/n. loosely season one/two. same reader as isn't it - but no requirement to read. wordcount: 3.1k

With him, you’re discovering wonderlands.

Eyes finding places your dreams couldn’t even manifest, dream or conjure—shades coming to life, appearing in mixed colours and strong hues.

Each sight makes your heart do a double take as you steal extra seconds from plans to take it all in.

Today’s wonder is all white.

It’s littered with occasional grey stones and slightly blued pebbles. The piles of them doing their best to intersperse, to be a break in the rolling snow-covered hills. Provide some form of depth, give something for your eyes to latch onto—to prove there’s vastness.

The first solid thought you’d had when the hull door opened was, it’s bright. Almost uncomfortably, so,

Eyes squinting instantly, forcing yourself to see through your lashes, forearm coming up to shield you further as the wind howled and flakes began their escape into the ship.

Eyes squinting instantly, yet you force yourself to see through your lashes, forearm coming up to shield you further as the wind howled. Its mournful wail echoes through the air and flakes dance in a frantic ballet, their delicate forms swirl like spirits wishing to escape into the ship.

Stepping outside, more snow finds refuge on your cheeks, forehead and nose, resting there momentarily, before vanishing as though they’d never existed. They leave behind only the sensation, a fleeting tickle, like the echo of a memory. Just like a kiss, its presence lingers, an imprint on the skin, brief yet unforgettable.

Just like him, you suppose. Just like all the kisses the two of you have shared.

The last one, in particular.

The softness of it. The way he so cautiously slanted his mouth over yours, cupped your head in his hand and spent seconds, minutes mapping out your lips before he even slid his tongue past your teeth.

You’d made notes of things too—the low grunt he tried to bury in his throat, the way his body slowly relaxed itself on top of yours. All welcome, a weight you’d forever wear.

Forever. An odd word. Seven letters, and yet it expands through space and time. It’s ever-lasting, yet could be gone in a moment.

Turning on the spot, your senses tune in to the sounds of it crunching under your boots. Bits of it find shelter within the worn seams, seeping into the crevices as if seeking solace in the fabric that has weathered so much, all over-worn and loved.

You’re glad, in a sense.

Even if your toes grow colder and liquid begins to slide under the arch of your foot—it just means you can feel more of it. Soak as much of it in, and let it solder itself to you, so a piece of it lives within when the three of you turn your back on this place.

You hear him follow, and all you think is that he's welded a part of himself in you too.

A fragment at first—and now you’re sure he’s carved himself something larger. It's less about ordering you to stay behind, grasping for you in dark spaces that turn into heady nights spent panting. Now, it’s more about crawling in beside you because you know to wait, trusting him to always return. It's more about the way you can map his face with your palms—bask in the sensation of his breath on your collarbone...

Cold stretches there now.

You’re sure if you slide open your layers, the skin would pebble before it would begin to ache—to become desperate for cover. You wonder if your bones would want to shake and shiver; whether your blood would slow, if your mind would become a little less heavy?

“This okay?”

He speaks—making the two words slice through the howl and the heavy breaths you’re consuming.

Asking it as though a smile hadn’t been stitched into your face since the moment he’d told you he had a surprise. A treat. As though he hadn’t watched a twinkle in your eye because you know he doesn’t make half-promises and he does not give without thought.

“More than okay,” you reply, voice gentle, it flowing from your lips as you let your gaze rest on him.

Let it sit there.

Allow your mind to begin to walk away with itself as you recall the way he jolted, the soft murmur he exclaimed when he danced between being awake and asleep.

You wonder if he regrets this. Whether the way you curled into him to soothe had been a step too far; whether your palm flat to his cheek, knuckles tracing the stubble that leaves welcomed burns along your thighs, had been too much for him.

He hadn’t said as much.

Not even once.

Sighing, letting it trickle past your mouth, you stare up—the sight of frost falling seemingly coming from nowhere and yet somewhere. Lost in it. Attempting to trace, to find the origination, only to find yourself struggling to see, to focus—too bright, you think again, chin dropping, eyes closing as you take another deep breath.

It’s why it slips out, is spoken before you realise it’s left your lips. It travels in wispy condensation, hand outstretched, palm upturned, as the words fill the silence: I’ve never felt falling snow.

You hear the sound of his boots crunching snow, the gap between the two of you closing as you flick your eyes to him—not halting him, but rather ensuring he knows you see him.

The dangerous side and the gentler side; the one who hunts and the one who caretakers. And all the rest in the middle.

You drop your gaze to him—the one more beloved than ship, principles or bounties. Snow resting atop his green head, ears twitching when certain flakes make contact.

Then, you stare at the helmet. Silently asking, all done in an exchange, a purposeful distraction—with a reply given in a tilt, a descent of his beskar-covered shoulders before the child was placed on the ground.

“I’ll be gentle.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about.”

You snort. "You trust me, Mando?"

He says nothing, which says a lot.

And you allow a deep inhale to follow—one that flows ice through your nose, forcing it to crash into the sides of your lungs as you almost gasp.

It’s a different kind of cold here.

A lot of things are different now.

You don’t concede to the ache in your bones or the weariness in your jaw from the relentless clenching of your teeth. You hide it beneath a veneer of stoicism and resolve.

Because if you do, the three of you will leave.

Stubbornness, some would say; utreekov he would say.

All under his breath, later translated when your mouth wraps around his cock—when you hollow cheeks and trace the tip of your tongue along the slit as salt kisses the roof of your mouth.

He decides for you when you blow into your gloves. A firm declaration, bold: Grogu needs to sleep.

It is less a question, and more of a statement; not quite an order, but he leaves little room to argue. The child picked up, scooped practically from the ground, leaving you to face the back of them both.

If you were closer, you’d likely see your dismay reflected in the beskar. The ball in your hand melting, before you let it fall in a half-formed lump to the ground. Letting it reunite with others similar to it before your soles flatten it, crush it back into nothingness.

You shiver, with no attempt to hide it this time, his eyes no longer a threat—no necessity to fight it or bury it. Letting it rumble through you as your teeth move on their own accord. Knowing, without touching, that your lips are likely colder than the melting snow that had been in your hand.

It might not have been the case if you hadn’t taken six snowballs to the face in the last so many moments.

The balls had been cupped and formed in your palms before you'd thrown them, only to have them flung back at you. A test, an experiment. A training session for Grogu and another thing ticked off from the list of things you’d ever done.

Yet, still, there are many things left.

A never-ending listicle—but, there alongside the ones for him are even more questions you're not sure you'll get an answer on.

They won't be shared. You won't whisper them to him when you’re both bare and catching your breaths. They'll rot inside of you, leave them tucked behind sinew and held back by stronger muscles than you have anywhere else.

You know the protocol when you are back in the warmth.

Silently disrobing, entering the refresher—followed by dressing and the rest of your usual routine as the other two sit up top, one resting and the other doing his utmost to avoid.

A thing that rarely bothers you, except now, your skull throbs—pounds. A sudden desire to call out his name, to ask him to come, for no reason other than to be held. The back of your hand finds nothing but chill, cold and sweat when it brushes your forehead, an unsteadiness to your walk as you manoeuvre—so reminiscent of the first few days on the ship—his name being swallowed.

Bed, you think.

Moving slowly, each step is akin to a baby's crawl until you finally grasp the comfort of it before sliding up further into it, encasing yourself, wrapping until you’re closer to a ball than a person.

You’re not sure how long you lie, how much time passes, but when he calls your name it sounds distant—far off.

And, so he calls it again, and again. A chant, a melody, it carries around the walls and greets your ear each time. There's just no energy to reply, nothing else inside of you than being curled and willing warmth to stretch out across skin, muscle and ossein.

Maker.

He breathes it. Allows it to flow out. But, it isn’t until his hand knocks away the sheet, fingers brushing over your calf do you hear him hiss.

“Kriff, you’re freezing.”

You murmur something, mind willing for an I know but not entirely sure what hits the air. Barely able to do more than remain still, to stop yourself from shivering.

Worth it, you add. Repeating it, the bridge to the song of your name he'd begun earlier, until you open your eyes and find yourself in the dark.

It's all-encompassing in its cloak of midnight, the darkness enveloping you like a heavy shroud, pressing against your skin with an oppressive weight, suffocating any glimmer of light and casting you into a realm of shadows and ambiguity.

Then you hear him undress.

Able to tell now, able to spot when each item is placed down—like a strip tease you’ve never been privileged to actually see, but the routine is all but memorised.

You want to reply, tell him you'll be fine as a tremble rips through you—finding it’s easier to keep your teeth together. Easier to tremble and shiver and shake.

That is, until you feel him shift, the presence of him looming before his body begins to smother yours.

It's all broad, heavy—heartbeat hammering against your skin as it ripples a kind of tune through your bones. But it's the warmth you grasp for; bring closer. Your fingers digging into skin and muscle, needing him flush to you more than you need to breathe.

It’s not romantic, but in a way it also is.

Even if shrouded in a blanket of faux night, there’s something intimate about the way he feels around you. It's far softer, slower movements.

His fingers find your cheek. Thumb brushing over your lips, likely cold, lips blue, as you bite back the instinct to let it slide into your mouth. Fight hollowing cheeks around the appendage, remind him how good your mouth can feel.

Instead, you focus on him. How this time, neither of you said this wasn’t it. This wasn't the place—isn't it. No entertainment that snowy-topped hills and rolling mounds of ice could be a place he could ever leave you.

You’re thankful, more than grateful.

Wishing to say as much as you shift your body under his, his thigh slotting more gracefully between yours, so much so, that makes you whimper. A sound that makes his head move, shift quickly.

A shyness falling over you, a veil of it, weightless but still there.

You're sure he's reading you, scanning you, deciphering everything the noise could mean even in the dark.

But, it's obvious that you want him. A thing you almost shrug out, but he shifts again, purposefully rocking his thigh, intentionally pulling another whimper that proves that you're throbbing. That you need him. More than a requirement, more than survival—

Warm me. Keep me warm.

Fingers sliding to his waist, resting, thumb stroking as you nuzzle your nose against his cheek. A sign without words, a signal that flashes in its own way.

Your wants rolling, clumping. Not too dissimilar to the snowballs you had made earlier—them all compacting, hardening.

Please, Mando.

Even if he thinks you just want him, you want more than the solid length of him inside of you or his palms on the back of your thighs.

It's a thing which circulates, and you ponder over it. Turn it over when you wake before him and let sit on the back of your tongue when he's showing you what buttons and switches mean on the ship.

Because you want to know his smile, the shade of his eyes—see the faces he pulls when he tilts his head and know the unfiltered sound of his laugh. You want him to never let you go. To never let you slip under, to hold you, to always be—

“Mesh'la…”

You hadn’t known you’d been speaking out loud. Letting confessions fall, like the earlier snowflakes. Except they hadn't landed softly, or gently. But rather laboriously, thickly—making the small space feel much narrower.

Realisation slams your heart into your chest, halting thoughts, and silencing your apparent babbling.

Head turning, silence doubling—air tightening—before you think and speak, “Should be saying that t-to you.”

He hums, it vibrating through him, fluttering over where your chest meets his. “I’m not... not mesh'la.”

“Don’t need to see you to know that you are, Din.”

You’re cautious with it, his name.

Barely used, barely warranted. A thing given to you one night when your face was buried into his neck—a silent promise made when he’d handed it to you. An offering.

You feel his head rise, each of his muscles taut, and you close the gap, moaning your gratitude into his mouth, all messy.

Rustling sheets sounded, suddenly aware of him. Feeling him. Pressed against you, heavy and leaking, as the rest of him remains tense. Caged in his bicep, mouth unwilling to release yours, to be anywhere but reading the rest of your wants straight from your tongue.

"Got you," he moans, signing it against you as he moves, positions himself before you can feel him nudging at your entrance, "I've got you."

And he does.

Slick with need for him, in a slow thrust, he sinks into you. Deeper and deeper. Clutching onto him, hanging more imperatively to him as he pauses, lets you adjust—mouth sliding over yours as he waits for the sign to move, to go, permission to further set you aflame.

You think each time you’ll be used to how he stretches you, how delicious it feels. How you’re so full, so content, and how he feels all warm and soft against you. But this time it’s different. Not just in the way he moves, but in the way he kisses you, in the way he murmurs soft phrases to your neck and collarbone.

Some you make out and make heat rush to your cheeks. Some you begin to try to translate before a drag of his cock sends the words spiralling into a mess of letters that fade as quickly as they were spoken.

Toes curling, fingers digging further into his waist and shoulder—leaving something on him, even if he’ll bury it in armour.

It's a thing you’ll know. He’ll know. A thing which makes him bite down on your shoulder and ask for more.

A demand which makes your back arch, makes you drop a curse as your vision blurs and your toes curl as his pace picks up.

Because you’re trembling for an entirely different reason now. So close to fracturing, to coming apart—letting have it all, the good, the bad and the parts which have rotted before he lay beside you. Seeing stars in a galaxy of nothing all because of him—I’m close, so close.

"Let me feel you."

All gruff, grunted into your neck as you tighten, clench, tangling fingers into his curls for leverage.

It should feel like falling, but it doesn’t. Never does.

It feels like an explosion. A pause—like you’re floating, not rising or descending. Just there. Flames roaring through you, burning away any leftover chill, as you flutter and howl out his name.

You writhe, whine. Moan. Paint the small space with nothing but pleasure and thankfulness and Din, oh, Din, as he tells you how good you are, how well you take him.

And, he’s not far behind. Can tell from the babbling and then the choked back where he emits as you croak back inside. Internally pleading, wishing, crossing fingers and toes that he does so, when you feel him spill into you when your name sounds both sweet and sinful as he groans it.

As he buries a word that sounds similar to mine into your neck, hips stuttering and stammering as you wrap a leg around him in response.

Yours.

There’s a moment.

The air tightens when breaths are caught and heads are clearer. The space the two of you are in is on edge. Subconsciously tensing. While you, after the softness of the moment, are unsure whether you’ll be rewarded with more or something akin to the opposite.

He answers by pulling you closer, no space between the two of you. Just sweat and skin and nil else, as his mouth and hot breath rest against your cheek, your own fingers finding purpose in his curls.

That’s when you hear it, a whisper, barely discernible from his heaving breaths: They’re brown. My eyes are brown.

Smiling, you swallow.

Nodding, something you hope he can feel.

Because a shade is something, far more than you had this morning—and it’s plenty enough, for now.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fic #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #pedro pascal fic #mando x f!reader #din djarin fanfic #din djarin #din djarin x reader smut #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

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.”

#the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #female reader #reader insert #din djarin smut #dom!din djarin #trying real hard to be sub!din djarin #angst/comfort #fluff

3K notes · View notes

pedroshotwifey · 3 months

Text

Beg For It

Pairing: Virgin!Din Djarin x afab!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Tags/warnings: piv sex, oral (m), cock worship, virgin din, premature ejaculation, teasing, humiliation, sub din, dom reader, degradation, cockpit sex™, embarrassment, age gap (younger reader), din djarin's monster cock, helmet stays on, pet names, snarky reader, experienced reader, stuff I'm forgetting (c'mon guys, it's me.)

Summary: You make a shocking discovery about Din and decide to do something about it.

A/N: Hey babes! Sorry if you're waiting on TTF or FB rn, but my brain does not want to cooperate atm. TTF 4 should be out relatively soon, but I'm not sure about FB. I hope you like this fic, bc I have no idea where it came from 🤣 My asks are always open in the meantime!!

***

“Fuck, it’s tight in here,” you complain as you stuff yourself into the small alcove exposed by the panel that was just removed from the Crest’s wall.

“And a fucking mess. Do you ever organize this shit, Din?”

The exasperated sigh that comes from behind you is enough to answer your question.

You roll your eyes as you reach for the tangled ball of wires in front of you. No wonder the lights have been flickering. You’re lucky it wasn’t anything worse than that.

“Who would even be doing this shit if you didn’t have me? Not like your broad ass could fit in here.”

Mando scoffs behind you.

“We got along perfectly fine before you,” he argues. “Grogu could fit in there, I’d have him do it.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh.

“Yeah, that would go over well.”

Din ignores your quip as he comes up to your side and nudges you with his boot.

“Hey! Can you not?” You turn your head to bite out at him even though he can’t see you.

“Scootch over,” he demands. “I need to see what you’re doing so you don’t blow the ship up or something.”

“Wow, it’s really reassuring to know how much faith you have in me, Mando.”

You swear you hear him bite down on a laugh and you smile despite yourself. You squash yourself to the side as much as you can, allowing a small gap so Din can peek in beside you. He groans as he lowers himself to his belly.

“Poor old man,” you can’t help but tease. “Bad knees getting to you?”

“Shut up,” Din quips.

You don’t actually know how old Din is, but you’re placing your bets on late thirties or early forties. Definitely older than you either way, but not quite old enough to be deserving of your quips. That’s not going to stop you, of course.

By the time he’s looking inside, you’ve untangled the mess of wires and separated the two that need to be switched.

“Damn it, Mando, you’re blocking my light. I can’t see shit.”

He sighs for the umpteenth time today.

“Really? There’s plenty of light,” he argues.

“Yeah, maybe when you have a fucking night vision mod in your helmet. Get up and tell me what to do from there.”

He obeys but you swear you hear him mutter something about being bossy through a groan.

“What have you done so far?”

“I’ve separated the red and blue wires from the rest.”

“Okay, go ahead and pull them both from their outlets.”

You try to pull them off, but you can’t quite reach the outlets on the back wall.

“Damn it,” you mutter.

You shove your knees under yourself and arch your back in attempt to push yourself further into the wall. Straining a bit, you’re able to grasp both ends and successfully tug them towards yourself.

“Got it, what now?”

“Put the red wire where the blue wire was, and the blue where the red was,” Mando instructs. His voice sounds much raspier than it had a second ago, making you quirk a brow.

“You okay there?” you ask as you finish the task.

“Yup,” he croaks.

“Okay, I’m coming out.”

You start to wriggle yourself back, and you hear Din make a strangled sound before biting down on it. It’s not until you feel your ass waggling with your movement that you realize what has him so worked up. A sly smirk quickly spreads across your face as you decide there’s no harm in teasing him a bit.

You groan and arch your back further as you back out, your ass up in the air as much as you can get it. You take your sweet time sitting up once you're out, and you can almost feel the heat coming from Mando by the time you do. You turn around to face him only to find that he’s avoiding your gaze, his hands clasped together casually in front of his crotch. You honestly wonder who he thinks he’s fooling—there’s not much that could hide a tent that size.

“What’s the matter, big boy?” you ask sweetly. “You look a bit flustered.”

“N-nothing.”

You have to physically bite down on your lip to avoid laughing at his voice crack. You’ve never heard him struggle so much. He clears his throat and tries again.

“Nothing’s wrong, cyar’ika.”

“Hm. You sure? Because I’m pretty sure you were checking my ass out a second ago.”

Din chokes on nothing as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“I was not!” He bites out in a panicked tone.

“Nothing wrong with it, I get it. I’d check out my ass, too,” you laugh and shrug. He looks down at his feet and your brows furrow. This might be the most flustered you’ve ever seen him.

“Dude, it was just an ass, not a big deal. I’m sure you’ve seen much more than that,” you chuckle lightly.

He slowly looks up at that, and time comes to a stop as things click into place in your head.

“Holy shit,” you say, bewildered. “You haven’t seen more than that. You’re a virgin aren’t you?”

You grin when he says nothing in response. No fucking way the Mandalorian hasn’t fucked or been fucked before. Hell, you’ve wanted to fuck him since you came aboard this junk pile of a ship. Damn, you’re going to take this opportunity and fucking run with it.

“Poor baby Din, never had pussy before,” you coo at him as you stand all the way up. “What’s the matter? Is it too small? Maybe you don’t even like pussy. You want a big strong man to fuck your ass?” You know you’re just spouting anything you think might get under his skin at this point.

“N-no,” he bites out, though there’s not much conviction behind it. You continue walking towards him, forcing him toward the cockpit’s pilot seat.

“No? You don’t like cock, Din?”

“I think you need some help, big guy. You clearly need someone to dominate you, since you don’t have the balls to step up yourself. You’re lucky I’m here, I can show you how good it can be.”

Din’s hands move closer to his clothed cock to hide the twitch that ensues from your words. You see the movement and it only spurs you on. He gulps again as you keep walking toward him.

“No, I-”

“Take a seat, Mando.”

He crosses his arms and stands up straighter, leveling you with a defiant stare you can practically feel through his beskar helmet.

“I will do no such thing.”

“Oh,” you reply, crossing your arms and returning the look. “But you will.”

You glance down at the impressive bulge in his flight suit, smirking when you catch him shift ever so slightly under the weight of your gaze.

“I think you want to sit down for me, Mando. And I think you’re going to be begging for my cunt by the time I’m done with you.”

You take a step toward him, and you can see the subtle way he stops himself from taking a step back in response. You stop in front of him and let your hand down to graze his covered length. There’s a sharp intake of breath barely heard throughout the hull. If you had been standing where you were a few seconds ago, you would have missed it.

“Sounds like you already want to, actually.”

You cup him fully now, and a strangled sound slips through his tightly sealed lips.

“Poor little virgin Din, doesn’t even know how good he could have been feeling all this time,” you tease, giving him a light squeeze.

“S-stop,” he grits out, uncrossing his arms to grab your wrist with one hand. Your movements come to a swift stop.

“Ask me again, and I will,” you tell him. “But I don’t think you really want that, do you? I think you want to stick your dick inside my warm pussy and come your dumb little brains out.”

There’s a brief silence as you stare each other down, and you can almost feel the way he starts to consider his options.

“I-”

You give him another squeeze, tighter this time, and his hips buck forward as another animalistic sound tumbles from his tongue.

“Fuck, please,” Din whines as he gives up trying to hold back. You grin wildly at the sound.

“Please, what, Din? What do you want?”

“P-please fuck me!”

Your hand flattens against him and starts to rub sensually up and down, giving him enough friction to have him shivering with each pass.

“Okay, baby. Sit down like I told you to, and I’ll take care of you.”

He nods as you start to lead him backwards, the back of his knees hitting the cockpit chair and forcing him to follow your instructions.

“What a good boy,” you lean forward to coo at the side of his helmet, right where his ear would be. “Why don’t you take your cock out for me?”

You push yourself away from him, your hands placed on either arm rest as you lean over him. Din hesitates for a moment, clearly not used to the kind of vulnerability you’re asking him to surrender.

“Go ahead, baby. I promise I won’t make fun.” In fact, you know you won’t. Judging by the massive tent in his pants, there is absolutely no way that Din Djarin is anywhere near small. Not that you’ll tell him that, of course.

You stare intently as he gulps and lets his hands trail down to unbuckle his belt and shakily pull his zipper down, revealing his boxers. He waits a beat before pulling himself completely out, and you have to fight to keep your jaw from dropping when he does.

“Holy shit, Djarin,” you gawk. “Well, your dick definitely wasn’t the problem. Scared some people off if anything.” Honestly, it almost scares you. You don’t think your hand could even fully wrap around it if you grabbed it right now.

You look back to his helmet, making what you hope is eye contact. Judging by the way he shifts in the seat, you’re pretty sure you’re spot-on.

“You’re so pretty, Din. It’s a shame nobody’s ever told you.”

“T-thank you,” he breathes, his head turning slightly.

“I want you to put your hands on the armrests while I show you how pretty I think you are.”

He hesitates, obviously still not sure about any of this.

“Go ahead,” you prompt. “Unless you want me to cuff you to the damn chair.”

At this, he quickly obeys your request and lets his hands go to grip the rests. His cock slaps up, hard and leaking against his covered stomach. He twists his neck all the way to the side, avoiding eye contact as much as he can manage. As much as he’s resisting giving in, you can see how his chest heaves with desire. In this case, the lust is simply stronger than the embarrassment.

You quickly bring a hand up to grab at the bottom of his helmet, roughly jerking his head back to look at you.

“You’re going to watch me while I suck your cock. If I see you look away, you’re not going to like what happens after.”

Din shivers and nods, shaken slightly by your authoritative tone.

“Say ‘yes, ma’am’.”

You watch his throat bob as he gulps down his nervousness.

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathes out.

“See, you can be such a good boy when you put your mind to it.”

You slink down to your knees and place your hands on his thick, tense thighs. With your eyes level with his cock, you’re able to watch the way a spurt of precum dribbles down from the tip.

“Look at that, baby. Little dick is drooling already and I haven’t even touched you.”

Din tenses and clenches his hand but makes a point not to look away. Good, at least you know he’s listening. Who knew how easy it is to tame a Mandalorian? A little humiliation and degradation can go a long way.

You lean forward, grabbing hard onto his thighs in reminder to keep his hands where they are as you stick your tongue out to scoop up the precum leaking down his shaft. His hips jut forward, and you swear you hear a quiet whine from his helmet. You can’t help but chuckle lightly.

You decide not to waste your time with little licks, and instead lean forward to take his entire tip into your mouth. Now you definitely hear a whine. You struggle to shove more of him into your mouth and down your throat, his girth making it much more of a task than it needs to be.

You can feel yourself getting wetter just from the thought of how deliciously he would stretch you out in other places. It really is a damn shame he’s kept this absolute monster tucked away for so long.

His fingers twitch at the same time his head slams back into the headrest, though he keeps it angled down so he can keep watching you. You have to swallow a few times to work him all the way down, and by that time you can almost feel the way he’s tightened up to restrain himself.

You take pity on him and pull back, resisting the urge to gag as his weight drags across your throat again. A string of spit connects you to his shiny cock as you smirk up at him.

“Tell me how it feels, sweet boy.”

“F-feels s-so good, c-cyare,” Din squeaks.

“Yeah, you want more?”

He nods furiously and you immediately flick the tip of his swollen cock, earning you a strangled yelp as his hips buck wildly.

“What’s the matter? Finally got your dick wet and suddenly you forget how to speak?”

He begins to shake his head before catching himself and giving you a verbal response.

“N-no–I mean, yes, yes I want more! Please touch me,” he thrusts his hips forward again, though you're not sure if it’s voluntary or not.

“Alright, since you asked so nicely.”

You quickly grasp him and start to pump him furiously, leaning to him again to drool on his tip. The extra lubricant makes your hand glide more smoothly, your pace picking up to the point where you can see his balls drawing up.

You work your mouth in tandem with your fist, worshiping his throbbing cock with open mouthed kisses and gentle nips on the exposed skin. You close your eyes for a second to savor the way he feels between your lips, and the salty flavor that graces your tongue. If you died with Din Djarin’s dick in your mouth, you would die a happy woman.

“C-cyare, I-”

He cuts himself off as you quickly pull yourself away, leaving him with nothing but your cooling spit to focus on.

“No, no, no–ung–I, p-please!”

You laugh at him as he thrusts up, trying to find some kind of friction. His voice sounds wet, almost like there are tears in his eyes.

“Aww,” you stand back to admire his writhing body. “Poor thing can’t remember anything but ‘please’. That’s cute. Not hard to get you dumb, is it, Mando?”

You start to strip in front of him, and his hands come up from the armrests.

“You better not be moving your fucking hands, Din,” you warn. “I know where you keep those damn binders, don’t think I won’t use them.”

He groans but lets his wrists back down. His feet shift instead since there’s nothing else he’s able to move at the moment. He whines again as your top comes off with your bra, and then your pants with your panties.

Fully naked and obviously soaked, you stalk toward him yet again, stopping to place your hand on his shoulder as you climb into his lap, careful not to touch his cock just yet. You settle your thighs over the tops of his and spread your legs.

When you look up at him, he’s staring you back in your eyes, refusing to look down. You smirk once you realize why.

“Don’t get shy on me now, baby boy,” you say. “Go ahead and look at my pussy, I know you want to.”

You watch him slowly lower his gaze and breathe out a curse once it lands on your seam. Leaning forward, you whisper again to the side of his helmet.

“You can move a hand, Din. Spread me open.”

He visibly trembles at your command but lifts an arm none-the-less. You feel his fingers trail gently down to where you want him, but he stops just short.

“T-take my glove off, please. Want to feel you, cyar’ika.”

You smile at him and carefully bring his hand up to pull his glove off, his dick twitching as you do so. You lick your lips as a tanned and scarred hand is revealed. It’s ridiculous how attracted you are to that simple appendage. You wish you could see his entire body, but you know that’s not a likely scenario.

Once his glove is discarded on the floor, he moves back to your cunt and sucks in a harsh breath as he feels you.

“You’re s-so wet,” he says in a way that makes you unsure if he meant to say it out loud or not.

You laugh quietly and guide his hand so that he can prod at your hole, to which he chokes.

“That’s all because of you, sweet boy.”

You move your hips forward, and his fingers slip through your seam, your slick collecting on the rough pads. You grasp his wrist to bring his hand to your lips, opening your mouth to suck your tang of the digits at the same time as you let your pussy push against the underside of Din’s cock.

Another animalistic noise accompanies the way his entire body jolts at the sudden contact. With a pop, you pull his fingers from your mouth to make room for the giggle that bubbles up from your throat.

“Poor baby’s so sensitive!” you exclaim as you grind against him, making him groan with each pass. Both of his hands grip down hard, one on the rest and the other on your thigh. The man has a fucking grip, you’re sure there will be five little bruises littered across your skin tomorrow. You wonder how good that grip would feel on your hips as he drills himself into you from the back, and file that thought back for another day.

You shudder as his tip bumps up against your clit, sending little shocks up your spine and making you dizzy.

“Gonna fuck you now, baby boy,” you breathe. “You want that? Want to stick your cock inside me?”

“I-ungh-yes, yes!”

“Yeah?” you ask as you keep up your movements. “Beg for it.”

“P-please,” Din asks a bit too quietly for your liking. You would bet all the credits you won that he’s blushing under that armor right now.

“Oh, come on now, you can do better than that.”

There’s a short moment where you think Din isn’t going to do it, and a lump of disappointment gets stuck in your throat. Luckily, he doesn’t make you sit with it for too long.

“Please, please put my d-dick in your pussy, want to feel you, please! I-I can’t–I want–”

In the middle of his babbling, you lift yourself up and line his cock with your entrance, slowly lowering yourself down. His hands fly to your hips at the same time his thoughts fly from his brain, unable to think of anything but the way your tight pussy is parting to welcome his fat tip.

He’s never felt anything quite this pleasurable before, the sensation nearly blinding him as you work yourself down onto him.

Your head tilts back as Din holds onto your hips for dear life. The combination of that pressure along with the burn from his cock stretching you out is almost too much. You can feel a heat bubbling at the base of your spine, and he’s not even all the way inside of you yet.

“Oh, god, that’s so good, Din. You’re so good.”

He whimpers in response, though part of that may be due to the fact that your hips are now flush to his. You’re both panting, a sheen of sweat coating both of your bodies. You can’t see the perspiration on Din, but you can feel the moist heat emanating from him.

You open your eyes, not realizing they had been closed in the first place. You’ve never been this fucking full in your life. You swear you can feel him all the way up to your throat.

“M–plea–please move,” Din begs and lets his helmet rest on your forehead. His entire body is shaking with the effort of not blowing his load too quickly.

You grant his request, starting to rock your hips as you bring a hand to settle on his neck, delighted to find a damp mess of curls peeking out from his helmet at the nape. Din gasps as you tug lightly while lifting your hips.

You start a slow but steady rhythm, your skin slapping against each other each time you bottom out. His heavy cock drags against your walls, making your toes curl. A little whine sneaks out from Din’s concealed lips every time you sink down on him.

A lewd moan tumbles from your lips as you feel him punch against your cervix, tucking in further than you’ve ever been able to reach before.

“Fuck, Din! You’re so deep, baby!”

“I’m not g-going to last l-long, Meshla,” Din strains.

You ride him harder, taking that as a challenge. The tight thatch of hair at the base of his cock catches on your clit as you slam down on him, bringing you further to the brink. Something white hot flashes within your body, blinding you momentarily.

You’re not even able to tell him you’re close too before you’re clamping down on him, and he’s shouting as he loses control. Your moans tangle together as you soak his dick, your legs trembling unlike you’ve ever experienced before.

Din wraps his arms around you as he thrusts up into you, spilling himself within your heat. You’ve never in your life seen or felt anyone come as much as he does. Every time you think he’s done, you feel another spurt of his seed clinging to your walls.

By the time you’re both coming down, your ears have started ringing and your breathing has calmed down enough for you to get a word out, though you’re not sure Mando’s quite capable of that yet.

“Y-you good?” you manage to gasp.

You feel Din nod against you, and give yourself permission to lean against him. You’re wrung fucking dry. If this is what it feels like when you’re on top, what might it be like when Din’s in charge? The thought makes your body shudder and your pussy quiver. You sit in silence with him for a while until he finally breaks it with a voice just above a whisper.

“C-can we do that again?”

You laugh at hearing the last thing you expected to come from his mouth after that.

“Fucking maker, Din.”

***

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415 notes · View notes

moonlitdesertdreams · 20 days

Text

Too Sweet

A/N: Hi friends. I haven't written anything in a while, as I've been tussling with my mental health and raging SAD from the weather near me. Please accept this Mandalorian drabble? Rambling? Takes place between the end of season two and Din's appearance in the Book of Boba Fett. Tags: The Mandalorian, Mandalorian x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader, Mandalorian x F!Reader, Apostate!Din WARNINGS: None Summary: You've been a safe place for Din Djarin for years. He comes to you at his most vulnerable, but always has to leave before you're ready. Title inspired by the Hozier song of the same name.

Word count: 1.6k+

Hours later, you’re still in shock.

Din Djarin is in bed next to you, sans helmet.

It wasn’t unusual for him to be in your home- hell, it would be more unusual for him not to be there between jobs. Your Mandalorian had spent years visiting, hovering somewhere in between a lover and a partner. He shows up in the afternoon one day, and is gone early in the morning before you wake. When he returns, beaten and bruised, you chastise him for leaving without saying goodbye. The routine was comfortable. Familiar.

Except every other time he had been there, you had never seen his face.

It feels like a dance each time he comes. You tend to his wounds quickly but gently, lathering cuts and bruises in bacta before wrapping bandages or slings where necessary to let the medication heal. Once you’ve played nurse, Din secludes himself to your study to eat dinner. And each time, without fail, he leads you to the bedroom to extinguish the fireplace and blow out your candles. His hands find your body, and he ravishes you in the darkness.

Key word being darkness.

Today was the same song and dance. He’d limped into your cabin without greeting, shaking snow from his armored body and settling himself into a kitchen chair while you fussed. A tube of bacta and half a roll of bandages later, he silently trudged away to eat in the study. There was a distinct lack of little green child with him today, which was a major concern after the past year. You suspected it had something to do with the oppressive sense of sorrow following him through the house. So you carried on with your usual routine, asking little to no questions. It wasn’t until he’d crowded you up against the sink, bowl still in your grip as you rinsed it, that he spoke.

“Mesh’la.”

Strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, and you leaned back into an unarmored chest. In hindsight, you chastised yourself for not noticing the words lacked the electrical buzz of a vocoder.

“Din.” You returned.

He only grunts, right hand gliding up your side. It grips your shoulder, and presses until you turn to face him, bowl still gripped in your damp fingers.

“You know, words are- Din!”

The porcelain bowl shattered as it collided with the kitchen floor. You’d dropped it out of pure instinct, hands flying up to cover your eyes. As much as you’d tried to forget what you saw, it was burned into your brain. Wavy hair, long nose with a scar crossing the bridge of it. Big, brown eyes that couldn’t possibly belong to someone so stern and ruthless. It flashes across your mind, and you almost tear up at the thought of Din breaking his Creed after all these years.

But he’d pulled your hands away and explained - while your eyes are still pinched closed- that he was an apostate. The Child was returned to his own people, but at the cost of Din’s Creed. It had taken minutes of coaxing and reassurance, but you’d opened your eyes and cursed the universe for being so cruel as to hide such a face. From the set of his brow to the nervous biting of his lip, you basked in seeing so much bare skin. It took less time for him to attach his lips to yours and lead you out of the kitchen.

He’d taken you to bed, and now here you sit.

Your room isn’t anything special. Quaint and cozy if nothing else, with two small windows that face out over the mountain’s edge. A fireplace flickers opposite the bed, its warmth trickling out to the sheets and heating your toes. Two bookshelves border either side of your headboard, with a nightstand tucked on Din’s side of the bed. On it, the usually extinguished candles burn bright.

The firelight flickers against Din’s tan skin, highlighting each bead of sweat and curled tendril of hair where it sticks to his forehead. He’s naked, back propped against the headboard and covered in a maroon sheet from the waist down. You’ve donned a short silk robe, black and bordered with laces where it plunges between your breasts. You lay between his legs above the sheets, head on his chest. One of his large hands caresses your scalp and trails to the ends of your hair. The other hand is occupied by a half-full glass of old Corellian whiskey.

You trace a line of yellow bruises on his hip where they extend below the sheet on his lap.

“What happened to you?”

His chest rumbles. “I fought an Imperial Moff. And Imperial battle droids.”

Your eyes widen, and you sit up. Din’s hand leaves your hair to grasp at your waist, pulling you to face him.

“Stars, Din.” You reach out to touch a patch of black and blue skin over his collarbone. “No wonder you’re so beat up. I’ll get you some more bacta before we go to sleep.”

He lifts your fingers from his collarbone to his mouth, kissing each fingertip. “You’re too good to me, cyar’ika.”

“You deserve it.” Is your instant reply.

If there was anything you knew about Din, it was that he never quite comprehended the good he brought to the world.

The Mandalorian brings the whiskey to his lips and takes a swig. You opt to push an errant curl behind his ear.

“I’m not a good man,” Your name falls off his tongue like honey. “Spent my whole life as kyramud.”

You tilt your head at the Mando’a. He’d called you some pet names for years- mesh’la, cyar’ika. But this… kyramud was new. Without his helmet, hearing anything out of his mouth was like a drug. But Mando’a warmed you to the core, building off Din’s comfort and fondness when he spoke the ancient tongue. You yearned to know more.

“Teach me Mando’a.” You kiss him gently, tasting the whiskey where it lingers on his lips. “So I can tell you why you deserve every bit of kindness.”

Din adjusts your legs so you’re sitting square between his, rear end on the bed and legs straddling his waist. He props you up with the ridiculous amount of pillows lying around.

“I’ll teach you anything you want.” Din strokes your knee. “Where do I start?”

You chew on your bottom lip. “What am I to you?”

“Ner cyare.” He pauses, debating. The whiskey makes another appearance, and you’re distracted by his Adam's apple bobbing deliciously in the column of his throat. “Naysol uj par ni. Each day I see you is aay’han.”

“What does that mean?”

Din tilts your chin up. “My beloved. Too sweet for me.”

You blush. “What about the end? Ay-hen?”

“Aay’han. Mourning and joy. At the same time.” He finishes the whiskey. “I mourn when I leave you here.”

Much to your annoyance, tears prick your eyes at the reminder that when you closed them, he would be gone before you woke. “Don’t remind me. Please.”

Din leans forward to capture your lips with his. The sensation only serves to make the stinging behind your eyes worse, and a single tear drips down your cheek. He’s quick to kiss it away, large hand curling into your hair. You climb all the way into his lap, suddenly desperate for closeness. His skin is hot and damp, and you’ve never felt anything better.

“Ni ceta. I never meant to hurt you.”

You sniffle against his neck. “Just promise me you’ll say goodbye from now on.”

He wets two fingers with his tongue and extinguishes the candles before cradling you in strong arms. Two words are murmured into your hair, quiet but sound.

“I promise.”

You grip him tighter than ever, warmth sadly fading as the dread of morning envelopes you.

The reflection of daylight off snow-covered ground wakes you.

It bounces in your windows, bathing the room in cool white light. You blink slowly, a heaviness settled on all of your limbs. It’s a familiar soreness that aches from your shoulders to between your legs, dredging up memories of the night before. Din’s bare face, and all the sweet words in Mando’a that he tried to teach you before you remembered he can never stay as long as you’d like. You sigh, letting one of your arms dangle off the edge of the bed. The thought of turning over and seeing the candles, thinking about him blowing them out on each visit was too fresh. It’s easier to lay and stew in your sadness, watching fluffy flakes of snow fall. The clock on your wall reads ‘1457’, another unintentional reminder of your late-night escapades.

You hate to admit that the feeling makes you tear up again. So you lay in bed, curled beneath a thick comforter while the fireplace crackles its last few breaths towards your feet. It’s easier to stare at the snow than it is to close your eyes and think about Din.

“Damn it.” You breathe.

“What are you damning?”

You swear that you stop breathing for a moment. Despite the fact that he had already spoken, you ask aloud, “Din?”

The sounds of bare feet padding across the floor nears, and the Mandalorian appears in your vision. Barefoot and clad only in a pair of loose gray lounge pants that tighten at his ankles. His abdomen is without cover, displaying an array of healing bruises and deep scars. You sit up, letting your feet hang off the bed.

“You’re still here?” You look at the clock again. “At 1500?”

Din smiles, kneeling in front of you. He presses a mug of steaming Caf into your hands and a kiss to your forehead.

“If it’s alright with you… I might be for a while.”

It’s your turn to smile as he smoothes away your bedhead.

“No arguments.” You sip at the warm mug. “I’ll keep taking my Caf in bed, though.”

___________________________________________________

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multifandombitxh · 1 year

Text

Keep It Down

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut/Angst with some fluff sprinkled in there ✨

Warnings: Self pleasure, caught in the act, jealous/protective Din, 18+

AN: some good ol Jealous!Din for the girlies 😌 It's such a stereotypical fic gang I'm gonna be so real with you lmao. It's also a long one so prepare for the worst typos you've ever witnessed.

PS I haven't seen S3 yet but I got back into the hype 💁‍♀️

18+ minors dni

It had been quite some time since you were able to have a moment to yourself. So long, in fact, that you couldn't remember the last time you did anything for yourself that was even remotely relaxing. You had been stuck on one mission for months, scouring the corners of each galaxy for a specific target with an unreasonably high bounty over their head. Din kept telling you it would be worth it in the end, but you were beginning to doubt that sentiment about two months into the search.

After a very pleasant visit to Alderaan, you were able to snag something for yourself to help with some much needed "stress relief".

You did your best to hide it from Din, considering you really didn't want him to know you'd just purchased a vibrating self massager. They were hard to come by, so when you found a merchant that sold them discreetly, you knew you had to take the chance. After it was all said and done, and Din asked where you'd been while he was busy getting information about the target, it was hard to explain to him where you'd gone.

"And where have you been this whole time?" He asked as you approached him outside of a local bar.

"I was, um, chatting up some locals," You lied, trying to maintain some semblance of composure as he stared you down. "Wasn't able to find anything about the target. I don't think he's been here."

"Well, while you were busy wasting your time, I was able to find one of his distant relatives," He explained, "Turns out he has such a high bounty for more than just murder, he's a real piece of shit in the eyes of his family. She said she knows where he might be."

"Yeah? Where?"

"Tatooine."

You scoffed. "That's not far."

"Which means we need to leave soon," He explained, "There's a crew heading there in just a few hours."

"Okay, so who's the crew?" You asked, eyeing him suspiciously. "Why can't we just go on our own? The ship could make it."

"It could, but not that quickly," He sighed, "Their ship is a little more advanced. It'll get us there faster."

You shrugged, raising an eyebrow at him. "Have you talked to them?"

He nodded once and began to walk off, likely in the direction of the meeting place. "I have. That distant relative? She knows these guys, let me talk to one of them over her communicator. They said they'll take us there, no questions asked."

You followed closely, trying to match his pace. "I find that hard to believe."

"You find a lot of things hard to believe," He teased, nudging your shoulder with his own. "It's kept us out of a lot of trouble. Always liked that about you."

You tried not to react to the compliment- the last thing he needed was an ego boost- but internally, it made your heart flutter and your stomach feel heavy. You opted not to respond to this, hoping he wouldn't press.

Unfortunately, that only made it worse.

"Would it kill you to take a compliment every once in a while?" He asked, his tone annoyed.

"It might," You replied with a smile, "Never done it, so I don't know."

"Maybe you should try it some time," He scoffed back at you, causing you to roll your eyes.

Your relationship with Din was complicated to say the least. You knew from the start you had some kind of attraction to him- what kind, you weren't sure, but it was strong and unrelenting. His voice was dangerously enticing, leaving you shivering any time he spoke just above a whisper, and the mystery of his face only added to the excitement. You had no clue what he looked like under that helmet, but you didn't care at this point. It never occurred to you to fantasize about his appearance- the way he carried himself, his voice, his confidence, everything about him struck you more.

But you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little bit curious about the color of his eyes.

When the two of you finally arrived at the crew's headquarters, you gave him a skeptical look. The warehouse before you was old, rusting and decaying in every corner. It was discolored, looking to have once been a pale green. The roof had caved in in several places, and the stairs to the roof were a death trap waiting to collapse on any unsuspecting victims. Din took note of your expression, waving his hand once to dismiss it.

"Not a word," He commanded, "I don't want to hear it."

"All I'm saying-"

"Don't make me tell you twice, Y/N. I already know what you're going to say, so zip it."

Frowning, you folded your arms over your chest in a pout. You followed him inside, passing through a creaky metal door that you were sure would be better off as scrap metal. Din led the way, checking corners and keeping one hand close to his blaster. As you entered the warehouse, the smell of burning rubber invaded your nostrils, causing you to make a face. As you rounded a corner, a large, shiny silver ship sat in the center of the large open space.

It stood out like a sore thumb, clean and sparkling among the rubble. You both exchanged looks, watching as three people stood around the ship and chatted away. They didn't seem hostile, but you knew better than to underestimate them. You approached carefully, keeping an eye out for any others who might be hiding nearby. One of them took notice of you as you stepped under a light, giving you away.

"Hey, the Mandalorian is here!" He called out, waving excitedly at the two of you. The man was tall and thin, barely any meat on his bones but a smile that was charming in its own way. "He's got a friend! Come on over, you guys!"

Din glanced over at you slowly, and you returned his look with a shrug. As you walked over to the group, you took in the remaining two of the crew; a woman with short, dark hair, several tattoos, and a frown that would scare off anyone. The other, a man of similar stature to the first, wore round, thick glasses, and was covered in what appeared to be oil.

"Lera said you'd be coming soon," The man said, "What are your names? I'm Dom, that's Starsei, and this guy over here is my twin, Arus."

"Y/N," You greeted, offering a small smile, then gesturing to Din. "He won't tell you his name, just call him whatever you like."

Din nodded, affirming your words. Dom watched the two of you for a moment, a huge grin still plastered to his face. A fourth member of the crew emerged from underneath the ship, covered in more oil than Arus. His dark, straight hair clung to his forehead and his mouth hung open as he breathed heavily. Oil stuck to his bare torso as he offered the two of you a wave.

"And that's Nox," Dom said, an annoyed tone to his voice.

You couldn't help smiling at Nox- he was handsome, likely more handsome than most- with a wide jaw, dark stubble, and his body toned similarly to that of a God. You shifted your weight as he locked eyes with you, shooting you a half smile that gave you butterflies. Din stood beside you, moving closer as he noticed the tension that hung between you and the mystery man. Nox took note of Din as well, offering him a full smile.

"Have any trouble getting here?" He asked, his voice just as dreamy as he looked.

"No," Din said simply.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room as the two of them held each other's gaze, as if a silent conversation was happening just between them. You cleared your throat and looked over to Dom, giving him a warm smile. "So, um, when do we leave?"

"As soon as you're ready," He replied, "We were just finishing up repairs on the ship, so you're welcome to head inside and make yourselves at home. We'll all be roommates for the next two days, so we'll do a big dinner tonight to get to know each other better."

"Sounds great," You said, your voice as friendly as you could muster. There was a clear rivalry brewing between Nox and Din, and you were trying to do everything in your power to alleviate the tension. "We'll head inside."

Din ignored you, still staring at Nox. Irritated, you grabbed his upper arm and began dragging him toward the ship, smiling at the others along the way. Nox caught your eye again and you smiled, hoping he wasn't intimidated by Din too much. Once inside the ship, you all but slammed Din against a wall once you were out of earshot of the others.

"What is wrong with you?" You asked.

"What's wrong with me?" He replied, his voice filled with anger. "What's wrong with you?"

"I haven't done anything wrong!" You said, shouting in a whisper. "You're the one acting crazy!"

"Oh, I'm the crazy one?" He laughed, "I'm not the one making doe eyes at strangers."

Your mouth hung open in shock. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Y/N," He went on, "This is serious. We don't know them. If he tries something because you couldn't help yourself, and everything goes sideways, this was all for nothing."

"Why do you care?" You asked, becoming annoyed with his reasoning. "He's hot, give me a break! I'm allowed to think people are hot, Din!"

He let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. "We're on a mission, Y/N. This isn't the time."

"Well, it's been a long mission," You huffed, raising an eyebrow at him. "And I'm bored. The least I can do is have a little fun."

In truth, you hadn't even been planning on doing anything with Nox other than admire his good-looks. Your feelings for Din ran deep, and you weren't about to ignore those feelings for one good looking guy. If anything, you were hoping this would show Din that you weren't his, and that he had no claim over you. Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough for him to come clean about his own feelings.

If he even had any for you, that was.

Once everyone was loaded up onto the ship and you'd set off, you found yourself relaxing on a very comfy couch in a very cramped lounge area. The ship was dimly lit, offering little light to help you find your way around, so you opted to sit down and wait until someone told you to do something. After a while, Arus found you, and decided to sit with you.

"So, uh, is your partner, um... Okay?" He asked quietly.

"He's fine," You said, waving your hand.

"What was he so angry about?"

You shrugged, trying not to give away what was really going on between you. "Beats me."

You decided to get to know Arus a bit, finding out that he and Dom were engineers that escaped from the Empire many years ago after faking their deaths. You learned that Starsei is their pilot, and she seems standoffish because she doesn't often speak. She was a prisoner of the Empire, who helped Dom and Arus escape many years ago. Nox is their newest recruit; also an engineer, but mostly specializes in communications. He also used to be a smuggler.

After a while of chatting back and forth, Nox joined the party, sitting between you and Arus.

"Seems like the Mandalorian isn't having a great time if I'm not mistaken," Nox joked, glancing over at you. "Thought he was gonna slit my throat after I saw him in the hall just now."

"He'll warm up to everyone eventually," You said with a small smile, "He's a little hesitant about new people."

"So, how long have you two been together?" Nox asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you. Shock took over your features and you laughed awkwardly at the gesture.

"We're not together," You stated, "We've been working together for a long time now. Maybe a year."

Nox seemed to ponder your response for a moment as Dom entered the room, knocking on the wall to get everyone's attention.

"Arus, we need you up front," Dom said in a soft voice. "Star could use some help."

Arus excused himself, leaving you with Nox in silence. You tried to relax, sinking into the sofa as much as you could to appear as non-threatening as possible. Nox did the same, leaning back and yawning as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. The only sound was the rush of the ship, shaking softly as it dove through space.

"I want to know more about you," Nox said after a moment, turning to meet your gaze. His green eyes were soft, but lidded. "Who is Y/N, exactly? Other than the Mandalorian's pet, I mean."

"I am not his pet," You scoffed, laughing slightly and hitting his upper arm before looking away. "We're friends, that's all."

"You might want to check on that with him," He replied, "He was ready to kill me earlier just for looking at you. I don't think that's a normal thing to do for someone who's just a friend."

Nox's hand came to rest on your knee, his palm open fully and his thumb gently stroking back and forth. "If I'm being honest, I think he could tell why I was looking at you, and I think that pissed him off."

When you met his gaze, a pit formed in your stomach. Nox was handsome, and charming, and clearly making a move on you. But... Something was wrong. It felt wrong. There was something about the way his hand felt on your knee that made your skin crawl, his voice made you cringe, and the entire setting was uncomfortable. It was hard to pinpoint exactly why, until you thought a little harder about it.

He wasn't Din.

"I... Think I should go," You said, standing from the couch and turning back to face him briefly. "Look, you seem nice. But I'm... I'm not interested."

He smirked up at you. "I knew it. You totally have a thing for each other."

Dom appeared in the doorway again, a huge grin on his face. "Who's ready to eat?"

After what felt like hours, you were finally able to step away from dinner to your quarters- Starsei showed you the way- closing the door behind you. You removed your gear, tossing it to the floor and sighing in relief at the loss of the heaviness. Removing the massager from your pocket, you walked to the bathroom and gave it a good wash, not trusting it after being in your pocket all day.

Once you returned to the room, you actually took in what it looked like. Star had told you that you and Din would have to share one room, which hadn't bothered you until you realized there was only one bed that sat in the center of the room, facing the door. It looked big enough for both of you, but still, you knew it would be an awkward conversation to have once he arrived.

The room was dimly lit- much like the rest of the ship- one wall light sitting above the door and casting a reddish glow over the entire room. The bed looked uncomfortable, with a thin, gray blanket sitting atop the mattress and two equally thin pillows where your heads would rest. It wasn't home, by any means, but it was a place to sleep.

With that, you laid down in the bed, shivering from anticipation. It had been a long time since you'd had enough privacy for something like this. Not bothering to remove your pants, you slowly lowered your hand past the waistband and sighed softly as the blue silicone material grazed your skin. With one press of the button, you felt yourself melting into the hard mattress, all of your worries fading away with the soft sound of buzzing.

Your breathing began to pick up in pace and you wriggled slightly as the sensation became more and more intense. It was getting hard to suppress the sounds you were making, so you bit down on your lip to try and stifle whatever noises threatened to come out. A shaky breath managed to worm its way out of you, hitching in your throat as it started to escape.

Thoughts of Din infiltrated your imagination, and you didn't try to suppress them as they came. You thought about the sound of his voice, talking you through the pleasure and egging you on. A wave of energy passed through you and went straight to your core, wetness beginning to pool. You thought about his hands pinning you down as he had his way with you, panting and sweating above you. It was almost too much, and it felt like the room was spinning.

Closing your eyes, you began to focus on finding release, waves of pleasure flooding your body with each passing second. Your breathing picked up in pace, and it was getting harder and harder to stop the tiny moans that escaped your throat. With a flick of your wrist, the massager hit the perfect spot, pulling a sharp gasp out of you. Just as it left your lips, a large, warm hand clamped over your mouth.

Terror filled your body and replaced all sense of satisfaction, forcing you to rip your hand out of its hiding place and your eyes to shoot open. Din hovered over you, one hand covering the lower half of your shocked face while the other pressed into the mattress beside your head. He was missing most of his armor, his helmet the only piece that remained. Adrenaline shot through your veins, and you struggled against his hold.

"Sshh," He shushed you, holding a single finger up to the part of his mask where his lips would be. "Everyone in this quadrant is gonna hear you if you don't keep it down."

Confusion replaced the shock, your eyebrows drawing together as you breathed heavily through your nose. He seemed to see the questions in your eyes, and you could swear you could hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke again.

"I could hear you from down the hall," He explained, "Thought maybe you were... With someone. But it looks like I was wrong."

You shot him a glare, thinking back to the evening you spent with Nox and how it must have implicated something different to Din.

"I don't have to help you, if you don't want me to," He reasoned, the hand covering your mouth beginning to lessen the pressure it was applying. "I just don't want you to get caught by the others. Just say the word, I'll walk away and we'll never speak of this again."

You wished you could see his face to make a better decision about what his intentions were, but with the helmet in the way, it made it impossible. You thought back to the feelings you were having just minutes ago, and felt excitement bubble up in your gut. Despite the surprise, you wanted this. Your expression softened under his gaze, and you felt your body relax under his touch.

"The way you're looking at me... Should I take that as a yes?" He asked, tilting his head to one side. "You want me here? You don't want me to go find your little friend, do you?"

You shook your head slowly and a soft, amused laugh filtered through his helmet, sending a shiver down your spine.

"You wanna give that thing to me?" He asked, gesturing with his head toward the massager. You lifted your hand and placed it in his, your body beginning to shake at the idea of what was about to happen. "That's my girl."

His words sent a shockwave down to your middle, causing a soft whine to escape from behind his hand. His girl. Remembering to keep you quiet, he pressed down on your mouth again, shaking his head.

"As much as I want to hear every little sound you're going to make," Din said, his voice sounding strained. "Can't have anyone else listening in, got that? You're mine tonight."

You nodded.

"Glad to see you can follow orders somewhere, at least," He joked, the laughter in his voice making you shiver.

With one hand he managed to remove your pants, lowering them to just below your knees, the cool air hitting you and making you shake. He took note of this and pressed the massage straight against your clit, keeping it there, but not turning it on. Frustration began to build as he teased you, running the material over the spot slowly and gently. Your brows drew together at this and you gave him another deadly look.

"Give me a break, I've been waiting for this for a long time," He said, sounding breathless as he looked you up and down. "You have more scars than I thought you would. Still, you're as perfect as I imagined."

With wide eyes you wiggled free from the hand that covered your mouth. "Are you saying you've thought about me like this?" You asked, your voice strained.

"Quiet," He commanded, shoving you back down into the mattress with his free hand. "I already told you, the others might be listening."

"Seriously?" You questioned, exasperated. "Did you think I wasn't gonna react to that?'

"I knew you would," He replied, gripping your jaw with his fingers. "I just wanted to distract you so I could do this."

You opened your mouth to respond, but were quickly silenced by his hand once more as he pressed the button on the massager, effectively turning it on. A hearty groan filled your throat as your head fell back, Din's hand keeping you in place. Your knees shook as he worked you over, circling the massager before pressing it against your clit again. Whines and moans were easily muffled by his hand.

Without thinking twice, you reached out and gripped his bicep, your fingertips digging into the soft flesh that hid beneath his shirt. He grunted at your touch, lowering his face closer to yours as you squirmed beneath him. "Eyes on me, yeah? Keep your eyes on me, Y/N."

With that, you reached up to touch the side of his helmet- a silent plea for him to remove it. You begged with your eyes, since you couldn't with your mouth, hoping he would give you what you wanted so you could look him in the eye. He hesitated, his movements slowing as you pressed your hand to his helmet. Sighing, he removed his hand from your mouth, instead placing it to your cheek. "I can't, you know that."

"Please," You blurted, all dignity vanishing from your body as you begged him to show his face. "You know me-"

The massager hit a rather sensitive spot, causing you to cry out and lurch upwards. Just as it began to leave your mouth, his hand was quick to silence you.

"You've gotta be more careful than that," He scolded, pressing it harder up against you. Your back arches off the bed, causing your chest to graze his. Sighing shakily, he kept the massager stationary, sending wave after wave of pleasure washing over you. You'd all but forgotten your desire to lock eyes with him, your climax on the horizon and taking up all priority in your brain.

"That's it," He encouraged, drawing out each word. "You're being so good for me."

Broken whimpers spilled past his hand, and he didn't stop them this time. Instead, he doubled down, maintaining the same position that was driving you closer and closer to the edge. It was within reach now, just a few seconds more and you'd be coming undone beneath him. Din could sense this somehow, his face mere inches from yours.

"I know, I know," He mewled, breathing hard behind his mask. "Be a good girl, now. Give me what I want."

His words were the tipping point, sending you flying over the edge. Your climax crashed through you, your head falling back against the mattress as several stifled moans filled the air. Din hummed as you finished, as if satisfied by his work. He never wavered, his helmet stationary, a sure sign that he watched your face the entire time. His hand abandoned your mouth and you gasped, gulping in air as you came down from your high. The buzzing ceased and your body fell limp, your muscles relaxing.

Din helped you redress yourself, taking his time and tracing his fingers over your exposed skin before it vanished beneath your clothes. "So that's where you went today," He laughed gently, turning the massager over in his hand. "I knew you weren't talking to locals. You've never been a good liar."

You groaned and rolled onto your side, facing away from him. Embarrassment flooded your body, the realization of what had just happened setting in. Despite the fact that he entered the room, saw you as you pleasured yourself, and still felt the desire to help you get off, you couldn't help feeling vulnerable.

"Y/N."

His voice sounded... Different. It wasn't metallic, it didn't sound muffled or altered in any way. It was organic, and soft, and hung in the air like gentle music to your ears. The realization hit you like a brick.

His helmet was off.

As you tried to turn back around, he was quick to stop you, moving you back onto your side as he laid beside you in the bed. His breath hit your neck, whispering past your ear like a soft breeze. The sensation made you flinch, drawing in a sharp breath as his arm wrapped around your middle from behind. He pulled you close, the center of your shoulders pressing into his warm chest.

"I hope you know I did that by choice," He mumbled, his lips grazing your skin. "I didn't embarrass you, did I?"

"No, no, it's not that," You said quickly, "I just... didn't think you'd ever want to do something like that. I thought it was against your creed. It took me off guard, I guess."

"It is," Din sighed, "But if I'm breaking the rules for anyone, it should be you."

"Are you still mad at me?" You asked, a hint of playfulness in your voice.

The quiet laugh that left his lips was enough to make anyone crumble at his feet. "I was never mad at you. I could tell you were getting... Frustrated, to put it mildly. I didn't blame you for being attracted to someone else. It was him I was mad at."

"You barely knew him," You replied.

"I know," Din agreed, leaning in close enough to kiss your jaw. "But he was looking at my girl."

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #mando x you #mando x y/n #mando x reader #mandalorian smut #mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #mywriting

2K notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 5 months

Text

Vivid {Mando x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: SEX POLLEN, dubious consent, fuck or die, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69, face sitting, blindfolds, sex in the dark, vaginal sex, rough sex, overstimulation, cream pie, cum eating, masturbation

Comments: A chance encounter in the canyon just beyond Din's little house on Nevarro leads to a sticky situation. A vivid pink flower, a powerful aphrodisiac, and a need to fuck has Mando bringing you home.

Co-written with @pedropascalsx

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The changes around Nevarro are….nice. The little house that was deeded to Din is far enough away from town that he doesn’t feel crowded, yet it’s close enough that he can walk Grogu to the little school that he had enrolled him in. His journeys needed to include more socialization than bounty hunters, killer droids and Mandalorians. He needed to be able to move throughout many different cultures respectfully and what better place to learn than school?

Din’s own education happened in the Fighting Corps. Effective, but he had a mind to raise his adoptive son and apprentice better than his own teacher had. Especially since Grogu had an advantage that he had never wielded, the force.

“No Grogu,” Din shakes his head and sighs softly as the fifty year old baby tries once again to float his little school pack off the shelf to where he is sitting. Wanting to go to school, even though it’s the weekend. “There is no school today.”

****

It had been a long day so far, you’d run your usual errands and finished a few tasks around your home. A few of the children in your class had been requesting some more painting time during the week, and never one to dim anyone’s excitement for the arts, you couldn’t say no.

You like to make sure that art class is just as educational as it is fun, so you grabbed your book of plants and flowers and got ready to make your way out of town to collect and pick some plants and flowers for the kids to paint and learn to identify.

The cool breeze was welcomed as you began your trip, a wicker basket hanging comfortably from the crook of your elbow as you made your way through the town, greeting everyone politely and with a warm smile as you did so.

You like Nevarro. Especially as of recent, the town was much friendlier and a new sense of community had fallen across the planet.

After a brief chat with one of your overexcited students and his parents you continued your walk while nibbling on some fresh fruit from a stall you had passed.

The kid is passed out in the little bed that Din had bought for him, the Mandalorian steps out of the house, striding off towards the canyon. He needs to tune his blaster, having replaced the plasma cartridge earlier. The domesticity is unusual, but he likes it, a set schedule and a home to make meals in. It’s oddly appealing, even though he does often wonder how the covert is doing on Mandalore.

After a nice breezy walk, your basket is almost full, you’ve picked multiple flowers and plants for the children to paint and learn about. The canyon is quiet, peaceful, the only sound coming from the soft breeze shaking the trees and the occasional twitter from the out of sight creatures.

You’re just about to leave and make your way back home, before it catches your eye and steals your attention. A vivid shade of pink and standing alone. The petals are perfectly uniform and it’s the most perfect looking flower that you’ve ever seen.

Din sighs, seeing someone in the canyon ahead of him. There wouldn’t be any practice unless the person was just leaving. Making him huff under his helmet and hope that it wasn’t someone who is looking for trouble.

You kneel down in front of the flower, appreciating its beauty before reaching into your basket and pulling out your holopad. Unable to resist taking a few snaps of the gorgeous flower.

Zooming in on the photo you notice a figure in the background that you immediately recognise as the father of Grogu - the new and unbelievably adorable little green foundling in your class.

You place your holopad back in your basket, figuring he’ll want some space. He’s polite, not much of a talker but there’s something about him that’s… intense. The kind of intenseness that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand upright and makes that magic button downstairs pulse uncontrollably until it gets the attention it deserves.

You gently snip the bottom of the stalk and gently scoop up the flower in your hands, inhaling its gorgeous and intoxicating scent and letting it flood your senses.

And then it hits you.

Walking closer, he recognizes that it’s Grogu’s teacher. You are a newcomer to Nevarro, at least, you hadn’t been here when it was a bounty hunter’s hive. One of the more gentle settlers, and it doesn’t hurt that besides him, you are Grogu’s favorite person.

He smiles slightly under his helmet, wondering what you are doing out here in the canyon, although he spies the basket on your arm.

The effect is immediate, within seconds fire is coursing through your veins and pain meets a new type of pleasure in the most delicious way.

Every nerve ending in your body is set alight, and the pleasure center in your brain is working overtime. Arousal floods your core, your nipples harden and your clit is pulsing with desperate need out of nowhere.

You start to whimper as your legs threaten to fail beneath you, you’re still kneeling but you feel as though you’re about to collapse in a heap on the floor. The sounds that leave your mouth are nothing short of filthy, and you become more and more aware of your need for something to quench the flames that are burning stronger with every passing second.

Seeing you stumble, Din rushes forward. Hand on his blaster as he tilts his head up, searching for danger. Why else would a healthy woman nearly collapse? “Hey! Hey, get down!”

“The flower,” you say with a breathy moan, “I think it’s the flower.”

He’s already reached your side, grabbing you and your basket and dragging you behind a craggy outcrop in the canyon, getting you to cover. Unaware of your moaned words, they were too unintelligible. The pollen from the flower drifts under his helmet, not pressurized against contaminants and floods his nostrils in a heady rush.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you babble, as you start to pull on the collar of your dress. The material feels much too constricting and far too warm despite the cool breeze.

“Dank ferik.” Din hisses, his own armor suddenly feeling as if it weighs more than the great forge on Mandalore. “It’s- it’s the pollen.” He croaks out, slapping the basket out of your hand, but he knows it’s too late.

“What’s w-wrong with the pollen?” You gasp out, unsure why your clothes feel heavy and your body is trembling uncontrollably. Your need to be touched now is desperate.

“It’s an aphrodisiac.” He grunts, cock already hardening and tenting the fabric of his flight suit. “It- it lasts for hours and-“ His eyes under his helmet widen as he remembers one particular trait of this toxic flower.

“And?” You ask frantically, “And what?”

“Your heart explodes if you don’t- uh, have sex.” His hand slaps against the rock wall of the canyon and he groans, thinking about an activity that he has long denied himself. He’s been too busy with the kid to seek out any companionship, even for a night.

“What?” You say with a pained laugh, “How is that -fuuuuck- how is that even possible?” The lace from your bra rubs painfully against your hardened peaks and you have to physically fight the urge to free yourself of your dress and bra.

He doesn’t fucking know, but the digital display in his helmet is broadcasting that fact as he looks down at the flower. “What the fuck were you doing with it?” He demands, trying to think about something other than pushing you against the rocks and burying himself in your cunt.

“I was just.. I’m picking flowers for the kids to paint,” you say between labored breaths, “Please, do something. It fucking hurts.” You start to beg, unsure what can be done.

He hadn’t anticipated that response. Groaning, he shakes his head. Knowing that a quick fuck in the canyon isn’t going to do it. Plus it’s too exposed out here. “Hold on to me.” He orders, stumbling next to you and wrapping his arm around your back before he kicks on his Rising Phoenix.

You squeal with shock as you’re shot upwards into the deep blue sky, your arms wrapping so tightly around The Mandalorian that it hurts.

Din’s groans are covered by the sounds of the jetpack and the wind. His cock is throbbing and leaking into the flight suit and he knows you have to be feeling worse. Your exposure was vastly greater than his own.

He senses the moment that the pain becomes too much for you to bear, his arms wrapping even tighter around you as you start to lose your grip. Pain shoots throughout your body as you whimper in his arms.

“We-it’s- it’s close.” He groans, his own body used to pain although he’s never experienced an arousal that might override all his senses like this before. All he can think about is stripping you down, burying himself in your body over and over until relief is finally achieved.

“I can’t hold on much longer,” you gasp, as the aching between your thighs grows stronger and more uncomfortable.

The outline of his small cabin appears and it can’t be a second sooner. His entire body is tense and his jetpack is nearly sputtering as it sets down on the ground in front of the remote dwelling. His star-fighter is parked off to the side and he is grateful that the baby is still asleep in his own little room.

His grip on you stays firm as you reach the ground, and he gently pulls you into his cabin. Spinning you around he presses you up against the door and gently palms your tit with his gloved hands.

“Tell me-“ Din groans and bites his lip under his helmet. “Dank ferik, tell me I can fuck you, Mesh’la.” He begs.

“You can fuck me,” you say with a moan as you press yourself up against him, desperate to feel him inside of you.

His head turns towards the door where Grogu is sleeping, relieved to find it still closed and he steps back to drag you away from the wall. “My room.” He demands, knowing the kid didn’t need to wake up and see anything.

“Yes, sir,” you say as you follow him on shaky legs into the room. Your clothes feel heavy against your skin, but you wait for his command to remove them. Standby patiently but writhing in discomfort as he walks towards you. “I need to take my dress off,” you say, as the material irritates your skin.

“Take it off.” He knows he will rip your dress if it touches it and he needs to get out of his armor. It’s chafing his skin and he’s overheating.

You immediately unzip the dress and let it fall to the floor, before working on your bra and panties. “Need you so badly,” you whine and you climb down onto the bed, and spread your legs. Dipping your fingers into your entrance and spreading some of your arousing through your folds and circling your clit.

“Dank ferik.” The armor clanks to the floor carelessly. Unable to treat it as reverently as he normally does. Fingers fumbling as his cock throbs, visor trained on your cunt.

“Hurry,” you beg, as you circle your clit faster, you’re soaked enough for him to slide right in with little resistance. “Am I allowed to touch you?” You ask as you continue working your clit, you know a little about Mandalorian creed but you’ve never fucked one before and want to make sure you’re respectful and you don’t cross any boundaries.

“I-I’m going to turn out the lights.” He groans, wanting to see you, touch you. And have you touching him. “And I need to blindfold you.”

“Whatever you need,” you say, as you turn your head so he can blindfold you. “I won’t touch you unless you explicitly tell me where it’s okay, and I promise the blindfold will stay on until you take it off.”

“You can touch me.” He is panting as he ties the blindfold and quickly strips out of the flightsuit and his boots. Even though he is burning, he hesitates when reaching for his helmet.

You reach out and let your fingers run across his chest, “Fuck,” you say, as your pussy clenches around nothing, “Want you to fuck me so badly, but I really wanna suck your cock first, Mando. I want to rub my little pussy while you fuck my throat.”

“No.” He chokes out, knowing that your body is screaming for release worse than his own is. It makes the decision easy and the click of the locks is accompanied by a slight hiss as he lifts the helmet off his head and it clatters to the ground.

“Oh,” you say, clearly disappointed but still rubbing your clit as fast as you can and chasing your release. “How do you want me?”

Din knocks your hand away and climbs up on the bed to pull you up and spin you around. A lifetime of training makes picking you up easy and he flips you onto your stomach on his chest. “Suck my cock and I’ll lick you.” He rasps out, his voice unmodulated and clear. “Never done it, but I want to. You need it.”

The sound of his voice is even sexier when unmodulated. Raspy and rough. Each word going straight to your pussy. “Yes, sir,” you say as you feel around and finally get his cock in your hand. It’s thick, veiny and dripping in pre-cum, the room is dark enough and the blindfold is opaque enough that you can’t see it but it feels glorious in your hands. You give him a teasing lick, lapping up all the pre-cum before taking the tip of him in your mouth.

Din groans, his gloveless hands reaching for your hips and his entire body shudders when he realizes that it’s full skin to skin contact. Dragging you back and immediately plunging his tongue inside your quivering and leaking cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” you choke out as you pull off his cock, loving the dexterous heat of his tongue. You take him back into your mouth and hollow your cheeks, your moans vibrating against his cock as he eats your pussy. For someone who said he’d never done this before he’s unbelievably skilled, eating you with such vigor that after a few minutes you can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.

There have been a lot of holo vids around oral sex in his past, learning and aching to try the things that he saw. Although he’s not got a forked tongue like some species, nor one as long, he still grunts in pleasure as you moan loudly around his cock. Rocking your hips back to taste you more, getting deeper into your cunt.

“Gonna cum,” you croak out around him, before swirling your tongue around the tip of him and pulling away before cumming with a loud whimper of the only name you know for him, “Fuck, Mando!’

Din nearly whimpers at the loss of your mouth but the sweetness of your cum makes up for it. Soaking his face like he’s never experienced before. His cock throbs and he pulls away. “Close.” He chokes out, knowing he’s going to cum from this alone.

You take him back into your mouth and double down on your efforts, sucking him harder and licking your tongue around him. You take him as deep as you can, working the bottom of his shaft with your hands, saliva dripping everywhere as you work him towards his high. Needing to feel his cock twitch and start to flood your mouth with his cum.

It doesn't take him but a few more seconds when your mouth wraps back around him for Din to start to cum. Groaning out your name harshly, it's the only warning you get when he shoots a hot rope of cum down your throat, immediately followed by another.

You swallow around him, humming at the rich yet salty taste of him. Not letting a single drop go to waste, eagerly awaiting each burst as your mouth milks him dry. He’s delicious, salty and musky and you want more. You keep sucking until he orders you to stop and you slowly pull off of him with a groan.

Even though he's cum, his body still aches, his cock is still hard and he knows you aren't satisfied either. "My tongue or my cock in your cunt this time?" He pants out, needing to know where to bury his cock again.

“Your cock, please,” you beg as you lift off of him, “Do you want me to ride you, Sir?”

"For now." He knows you might need him desperately and he wants to see how much you are willing to grind on him for his cock.

His harsh tone makes your chest clench, but you push away that feeling and position yourself over him, slowly sinking down on this thick cock and moaning loudly as he stretches you open. His cock fills you entirely, your walls flutter and hug his cock as you get used to the delicious stinging from how stretched out you are from him. You start rocking your hips slowly, before increasing your pace, grinding down on him over and over. Desperate moans slipping through your plush lips as a wave of euphoria floods through you.

The darkness is just enough that he can see you move. A shadow and he wishes that he could turn the lights back on but he can't risk your blindfold coming loose. It's barely a loophole and technicality of the creed, but you can't see him. Not unless you were going to bind yourself to him.

“You feel so good,” you choke out, as you rock your hips a little faster. “So big. So thick.” You murmur again and again as your pace quickens, chasing a high and feeling a desperate need to have him cum hard and paint your walls with his delicious cum.

"Fuck." Din chokes out, puffing up at the praise. It's better than the moans with his cock in your mouth and he palms your tits, plucking at them and pinching your nipples while you bounce on his length.

“Tell me what you need,” you moan, “Fast or slow? Need you to feel good, baby, want to feel this cock fill me up.”

Din curses again. "Fuck, fast." He hisses, squeezing your tits harshly. "Fucking ride me hard."

You do as he commands, increasing your pace and bouncing up and down on him as fast as you can, moaning in pleasure as he hits that spot inside of you. Your hands cover his as he squeezes your tits, holding on tightly as he starts to fuck up into you, matching your pace with his own.

The loud sounds of sex fill his room. His hips snapping up as you bounce down on his cock. Both of you moaning and cursing greedily as the fire of the pollen rages in your systems. He knows you’re craven for his cum, the only thing that can soothe the effects of the flower.

You reach down and start to circle your clit, as you keep the same pace, wanting to clamp down around him and hear those delicious groans from him. “You’re incredible,” you pant as you near your high, circling your clit with perfect precision as he fucks up against nirvana inside of you. “Gonna cum,” you warn, before pleasure washes over you and squeeze his cock like a vice. Yelling his name as you cum, hard.

Letting go of your tits, he grabs your hips again and starts the hammer up into you. His hold on your body is the only thing keeping you from being thrown up into the air. Harsh punches of his cock that hit deep and wrench a cry out of you every time he hits your cervix, he can’t even care if it hurts you because you gush another wave of heat around him.

“Fuck,” you choke out, as he pushes the air from your lungs with every thrust. You’ve never been fucked like this before, but it’s addicting, you crave more and more from him with each harsh thrust of his hips. “Fill me up,” you beg, each word more strained as his pace quickly overwhelms you.

His arms wrap around you and he’s thrusting up into you like you are his personal fuck toy. “Fuck, fuck, gonna, fuck- fill you up.” He promises, grunting out a word every time he buries his cock into your spasming cunt. One harsh thrust later and a harsh bark of your name, he delivers on that promise. Cumming just as hard and as much as when he came down your throat only minutes before.

Falling forward onto him your face nuzzles into the crook of his neck, he’s still hard and twitching inside of you but a wave of exhaustion starts to make an appearance. You pant into his warm skin, arms tightly wrapped around him and you can’t ignore how tense he is. You’re unsure if you’ve crossed a line, but you need to catch your breath again before you’re able to move off of him and ask how he wants you next.

Din is tense from how close you are to his face. It’s been so long but you don’t reach up to touch it. Your arms around his shoulders and your face tucked into his neck. He rolls you onto your back and starts to rock into you again. Knowing that the night isn’t over by a long shot.

You moan as he rocks into you, his stamina clearly better than your own as you attempt to gather up some strength. But he seems content to pick up the slack as your pussy flutters around him and your walls hug him tight. “Are you allowed to kiss me?” You ask, barely above a whisper as his hips snap forward.

Din groans and he nods even though you can’t see him. “Can I?” He breathes above your lips. He’s never kissed before and right now as he fucking you both through a dangerous exposure to sex pollen seem to be a good time to experience it.

“Yes, please.” You plead softly, wanting to taste his lips despite not knowing what they look like. Not caring at all that you have no idea what he looks like.

Permission granted, he crushes his lips to your in a messy kiss. Much less coordinated than when he licked into you, he had avoided kissing holo vids because he had felt jealous.

You giggle a little at the way he smashes his lips against yours, before lightly touching his chin and taking the lead. Licking his bottom lip gently until he parts his lips enough for you to slip your tongue inside and press it against his own. It doesn’t take long until he’s mastering the art and taking control, his lips now refusing to part from yours as he rocks his hips into you. Kissing you just as hard as he fucks you, changing up the pace every now and then and swallowing your moans of delight.

Groaning into your mouth is like ambrosia. You are the best thing he’s ever tasted and he can’t get enough. His cock steadily fills you with strokes and his tongue mimics the motion into your mouth as he pants his pleasure loudly.

With a few more strokes of his cock, he has you clamping down around him and crying out the name you know him by in pleasure. The stuttering of his hips as your pussy acts like a vice around him makes him grunt your name before pulling you in for another breathtaking kiss. The effects of the pollen start to lessen but the effects of him growing stronger. Everything about him is consuming, his scent, the power he commands and with every snap of his hips and grunt of your name; you want more and more.

Din can barely rock his hips but the clenching and squeezing of your cunt pushes him over the edge. This time he is moaning your name into your mouth while pushing more cum into your pussy. Sliding down your cheeks and soaking his bed underneath you in growing puddle.

“Fuck, Mando,” you say against his lips, with a bright smile. “Picking that flower was the best decision I've made in months.” You love the way he twitches inside of you, your walls still hugging him tightly as he groans against your mouth. You gently run your hand up and down his back as he works on catching his breath.

“Din.” There are plenty of people who know his name now and he doesn’t see why you shouldn’t. Given that he had just fucked the life out of you and still had a few more rounds in him before the pollen is completely gone. “My name. It’s Din.”

“Din,” you repeat softly, “I like that. Din.” You press a light kiss to his lips before repeating his name a few more times. “Do you think I can jerk you off next? My pussy isn’t used to being fucked this good. Give her a little break before you fill her up again?”

“Do you want my mouth again?” He asks, knowing you might still need something. “I can just suck on your clit.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, “I know you said that was the first time you did it, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it again if you don’t want.”

“I liked it.” Din twitches inside you as he admits that and kisses you again. “Unless you didn’t like it?”

“I loved it,” you giggle, “Can’t believe that was the first time you’ve done it. Best oral I’ve ever had.”��

“Good.” He grunts happily. “Then I’ll do it again.” He pulls out of you and rolls onto his back.

“You want me to sit on your face and I can jerk you off as you eat my pussy, baby?”

“Fuck yes.” Din groans. “Want to taste your cunt filled with my cum.”

“Fuck,” you moan at his filth, “Yes, sir.” He helps you position over his face, and you hover a few inches above his mouth before reaching down and gripping his cock. Giving it a few languid strokes before finding a pace that has him groaning. “I bet you’ve got a gorgeous cock, Din, I can feel how good it is. But fuck. It’s so thick and long and those veins… I.. fuck. It’s so perfect.” You tell him before he pulls you down and starts to eat your pussy like a man starved. You work his cock like it’s the most important job in the work, each flick of your wrist designed to make him groan and grunt with pure pleasure. “Do you like that? Do you like me stroking your cock while it’s still dripping with my cum, Din?”

He huffs, nodding his head as he continues to lick and taste both of you combined. He’d love it if you sucked his cock again but your hand is good too. Tilting your hips up, he finds your clit and sucks it into his mouth.

“Fuck, Din,” you yell out as he sucks on your clit, “Maker- I could get used to this.” You squeeze his cock a little harder, changing the pace from fast to slow. Wiping your thumb across the tip and gathering up the pre-cum to taste on your fingers. He groans as you let him, bringing your fingers up to mouth and licking them clean before gripping his cock again. “Going to suck your cock again after this, you taste so good, baby.”

Din groans and sucks on your clit harder, pushing his tongue against it and releasing it to lick it and suck it back into his mouth to start the entire process over again. He could get used to this too. Eating your pussy every night and having you on his cock.

“Diiiiiiinnnnnn,” you moan, over and over as he works magic on your clit. You stroke his cock over and over as his hips stutter, “Gonna c-cum.”

He pulls away just to gasp out, “me too.” Before he’s reattaching his lips to your clit like a hungry sucker fish.

“Din, Din, Din,” you chant his name over and over like a sacred prayer, pumping his cock until he’s spurting out thick ropes of cum, cum that you’ve desperate to scoop up and lick from your fingers. You feel your pussy clench down around nothing as your orgasm pulses through you, soaking his face with your arousal as he continues his delicious assault on your bundle of nerves.

You stopped stroking his cock, too focused on your own pleasure but you squeeze him. Making him pulse as his balls draw up against his body again.

“Din,” you pant one last time, as he grunts beneath you. You feel his cock twitching in your hands, clearly desperate for more release, and you resume your strokes. Milking him free of his pleasure and loving the way it pants your skin. Your fingers, wrists and arms are covered in his cum. All of it begging to be licked clean.

Letting go of your clit, Din groans your name as you stroke his cock and milk it of every drop of his release.

The second he stops cumming, you gently let it go and start cleaning it from your skin. Moaning at the taste and humming in content as you swallow it all down. “You taste delicious, Din.”

His cock is still hard but he’s not desperate to be inside you. The fire in his veins nearly burned away and it will only take once more before it’s all done. “You taste good, Mesh’la.” He praises roughly. “Could taste you everyday and be a happy man.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say with a giggle. “It’s wearing off, I think, it doesn’t burn as badly but I think I can go again. You wanna fuck my mouth or my pussy this time, baby?”

“Is your pussy too sore?” He asks, knowing he’s been rough with it.

“I can take you again, I’m definitely going to be feeling you for a while, but I'm not complaining.”

“Why don’t you ride me then?” He asks, stroking your hip. “You can kiss me this time.”

“Perfect,” you say, wasting no time and getting into position and sinking down on him again. You press your lips against his and start to rock your hips, the ache between your legs getting drowned out with pleasure as he matches your pace.

"Shit, shit, fuck, you are so tight?" Din groans in surprise. "How are you still so tight? We've been fucking for hours." He doesn't stop touching you, anywhere and everywhere he can while you ride him, stroking your back, your hips, sweeping his hands up to your breasts. Greedy for that skin to skin contact now that he's not quite as focused on cumming. "Kiss me, mesh'la." He begs.

You immediately press your lips to his, and moan into his mouth. His hands feel perfect on you, they explore your body with ease as you rock up and down, chasing relief once more around his cock.

This time is less frantic. It’s slower and almost more intimate. It’s almost like you are making love.

“Need you to cum,” you murmur against his lips, exhaustion taking its toll on your fucked out body, as you rock your hips slowly. His thumb pressed up against your clit as you chase some friction

“I will.” He promises. “After you, Mesh’la.”

You move your hips just a little faster, still keeping the pace slow and intimate. His thumb circles your clit perfectly as you grind down on him, cunning with a soft moan of his name, clamping down around him and relishing the groans of pleasure he fills your ear with. “Cum for me, Din,” you plead, as you can come back down.

Now that he feels your entire body melt, he knows the pollen has worked completely out of your system. “Good girl.” He grunts, rocking his hips as he wraps his arms around you. “I’m gonna fill you up again.”

“Please,” you beg, needing to feel his release. “Please, Din.”

He doesn't rush, knowing that you have to be exhausted at this point. Only his ability to go beyond his limits allows him to keep rocking his hips up. As soon as he cums, he knows he will pass out to sleep for a good while. You are almost asleep as he fucks you.

You sink your face into the crook of his neck, unsure how you’re going to find the strength to pull yourself out of bed and make your way home. Rocking your hips more and more, his release clearly moments away, you ride him harder, determined to give him every bit of his pleasure.

"Fuck." He groans and thrusts up one more time to bury himself deep. Throbbing again and feeling your walls grip him tight when he starts to spill inside of you again. Groaning your name quietly as he fills you. Feeling the heat and need of the pollen falling away with the last pulse of his orgasm.

“Din,” you murmured into his skin, “Tha-thank you.” Exhaustion rumbles in your joints, everything aches, but everything feels worth it when you’re wrapped up in his arms.

"Sleep, mesh'la." He hums, his hand sliding up and down your back gently. He's still inside you and doesn't want to pull out right now. He wants to sleep inside you. "I know you are exhausted."

You hum happily into the crook of his neck, letting him move you slightly and wrapping his arms around you. “Goodnight, Din.”

Sleep comes easier than it has in months, safely pulling you into slumber as he gently rubs your back and holds you tight to him.

Sometime during the night, Din wakes up. opening his eyes and letting his vision adapt to the darkness. He's softened and is barely inside you but it was probably the most relaxed and the best sleep that he's ever had. Possibly in his entire life. Reaching up, Din gently unties the blindfold that is still firmly over your eyes. He's decided that he wants you to see him. Or have the choice if you wanted him to turn on the lights. Now he just holds you, waiting for you to wake up.

Waking up, you hum contentedly in his arms, nuzzling your nose into his warm skin. The fact he’d removed your blindfold not fully registered yet as you wish him a ‘good morning.’ It’s only as you pull back and the light hits your eyelids that you realize the blindfold is off. “Din,” you say quietly, “Is it ok to open my eyes?”

"Opening your eyes comes with consequences, mesh'la." He admits quietly. "I am not allowed to let anyone see my face. Or I become darmanda." He explains. "I would no longer be Mandalorian."

“What do you want me to do?” You ask, before pressing your lips against his, “Tell me.”

"There is a way that you can see me and I am still Mandalorian." He tells you, slightly nervous about what you would think. It's crazy, but he couldn't stop thinking about it when he woke up.

“Tell me,” you repeat, “If you want to.”

"If you are my riduur....you can see my face without any consequences."

“Riduur?” You repeat slowly, “What is that?”

“Spouse.” He whispers the Basic word and waits for your reaction.

“Oh,” you say quietly, before bringing your hands up to his chin and gripping it gently. “Riduur,” you repeat, loving the way it sounds, “You could see me as yours one day?”

“You would be mine then.” He tells you. “If you want.”

“I want to be yours,” you say against his lips.

“Then open your eyes, Mesh’la.” He murmurs softly. “You can look at me before we say our vows.”

You kiss him first, pressing your lips firmly against his before pulling back and slowly opening your eyes. Staring deeply into his brown eyes and feeling a smile spread across your face as you take in his features. “Gorgeous,” you say quietly, before letting your fingertips gently run across his face.

His eyes softly and his lips part when your fingers drag across them. He’s been touched by Grogu but this is different. “Pleasant enough? Or should I put my helmet back on?” He jokes self-consciously.

“You’re perfect,” you say honestly, “I can’t believe you’d want me. You’re gorgeous.”

“You are mesh’la, it is Mando’a for beautiful.” He hums, smiling up at you.

“Mesh’la,” you repeat, “You are mesh’la, Din.”

Biting his lip, he says, “repeat after me. Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,” you say as clearly as you can, eyes still focused on his as you do so.

Din grins. “It is our vows.” He explains. “It means - We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors."

“We are one.” Taking his hand you bring it to your lips and place a small kiss on it. “Yesterday took an unexpected turn… But I’m so glad I picked that flower.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Good thing I wasn’t secretly a Gungan under my helmet.” He teases.

You giggle back at him before pulling him in for another kiss, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk normally for the next few days, you realize that right?”

“That’s to be expected.” Din flashes you a dirty grin. “Make sure you tell them that when we go to Mandalore.”

“So every time you fuck me, I’m going to be feeling it for days?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Not every time, but when you’re fucking to stay alive, I’ll make sure you feel it.” He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and grinning up at you. “You can pick those flowers anytime you want….riduur.”

“I might just have to do that,” you giggle, “Thank you for saving my life, Din.”

“I think I’ve gotten a pretty good reward.” Din hums. He had settled here for Grogu and it was a nice little place, maybe a little lonely since he’s not so busy, but now he has a feeling he will never be lonely again. Not with you by his side.

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mellowswriting · 1 year

Text

did you miss me?

pairing || Din Djarin x f!reader

word count || 4.2k

summary || Din proves just how much he missed you while he was away.

content || pure poetic smut, rough but loving sex? is that a thing?, blowjobs, deepthroating, face fucking, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms Din is pussy whipped and painfully in love, thorough aftercare, dorks in love

a/n || not me coming back from my mini hiatus with pure smut 🤠 no one is surprised, right?

It’s been too long since Din has felt your lips against his skin. By too long, he means just a little over a week. Call him dramatic but he’s certain it’s a miracle he survived without you at all. He wasn’t meant to be gone for so long. He’s far too used to waking up and falling asleep next to you, teasingly smacking your ass as you walk by, dragging you close and fucking you against whatever surface is available. Din can feel your absence tugging at his skin, pulling him taut and tense. He’s grown… attached. More attached than he imagined himself capable of, in fact.

So when Fett came to him for help, Din was less than enthusiastic to leave the little world of calm you created together. It took a bit more cajoling than usual. It will take two days at most. We can compensate you. Then you can take your pretty little lover out somewhere nice. Din rolled his eyes at the light teasing from his fellow Mandalorian, but he couldn’t deny the prospect sounded like… fun. Something he hadn’t sought out in a very long time. So Din looped you in on the plan, fucked you nice and thorough, and very begrudgingly left you in his bed to help his friend.

Two days quickly became a week. He really should have known that this would happen but Din is a man of his word. He stays and fights by his friends’ sides, and undeniably wins the entire ordeal for them. The celebration afterward would have been tempting if he didn’t know exactly what was waiting for him back home. Fett didn’t even bother trying to convince him to hang around; he just tossed Din a bag of credits and a knowing grin, which Din pointedly ignored. He took a quick shower before he headed off, all too aware that he wouldn’t be wasting a second once he has you in his arms again.

Din sees you before you see him. He half expects you to startle when he wraps his arms around you from behind - an elbow to the ribs, a kick to his shin, something. But you just lean back into his chest with a surprised but happy sound, the blaster you were stripping abandoned on the counter. Your hands rub down his forearms until you reach his hands and deftly tug his gloves off, carefully setting them aside before lacing your fingers with his. Ease trickles down his spine as he takes in the feeling of your skin against his. Din never realized just how much he needed this. He’s so starved for affection that he feels like he just might die without yours. It doesn’t help that you’re just so… you. Soft against his scarred hands, firm against his stubbornness, so understanding of his inexperience.

“Did you miss me?” There’s a thread of humor in your tone that sends a flare of want burning through his body. He wants to sink his teeth into your shoulder, a small punishment for your teasing, but his hands are too busy to reach up and take off his helmet.

“Of course,” He says instead, the modulator in his helmet doing nothing to hide the raspiness of his voice.

You turn in his arms and Din is graced with your beautiful smile. A thread of concern laces through him as he takes in the tension that lingers in your body and the exhaustion-induced darkness under your eyes. You never sleep well without him. It must have been a late morning for you; you’re still wearing the tiny shorts and old shirt you love to sleep in. He catches a glimpse of the peak of your nipples through the thin material of your shirt just before your chest presses against his beskar. “Yeah? How much?”

“Help me out of my armor and I’ll show you.” That’s all it takes to encourage you to lift his helmet off.

Din drags you in for a blinding kiss the moment the helmet is out of his way. It’s a far cry from the first time he pressed his lips to yours. There is a confidence that surges through him - it ignites his need for you into something palpable and ferocious. Unrelenting. He digs his fingers into your thighs as he hauls you up into his arms and blindly stumbles his way into the small bedroom. Your bright laughter fills the air as he drops you on the bed and for a fleeting moment, genuine fondness soars over his lust, mixing into one devastating need. The two of you eagerly strip away each other’s layers, armor and clothes falling into a pile on the floor.

“Come on, get the fuck - get off.” You grumble under your breath as you finally unclasp his pants enough to strip him out of them. Din’s chuckle dies in his throat at the feeling of your fingers around his aching cock. Fuck, it feels so good it almost hurts - but that doesn’t stop him from greedily chasing more. His hand wraps around yours and guides it along his length in long, tight strokes, and the intensity of finally feeling your touch has his eyes fluttering closed. You huff a quiet laugh at his antics but don’t hesitate to give him even more - little kisses peppered along his belly and gentle caresses to his sensitive inner thighs. He’s so lost in the weight of your worship that he doesn’t even notice when you slip to your knees in front of him.

Din jerks in surprise at the warm, wet slide of your tongue along the head of his cock. A guttural sound rips through his chest as his fiery gaze meets yours, his jaw slack, lips parted as the heat of your mouth slowly envelopes him. His hand falls away as you work him further, instead coming to rest on the crown of your head. He doesn’t pull your hair or try to push; he just rests his hand there, gently caressing your hair as you roll your tongue in practiced swirls. Every inch you take further sends him reeling, pulls out those desperate little sounds he knows you love. Pride swells in his chest as your nose brushes the short, curly hair at the base of his cock. It isn’t easy; Din isn’t exactly a small man, in any sense of the word, but you still work him until your jaw aches and drool drips down your chin.

“Fuck… you’re so good,” Din’s voice is gruffer than usual, all deep and gravelly, and it does something to you. He watches with rapt attention as you go all soft and pliant for him, a muffled whine vibrating against his cock. His hips jerk unbiddenly at the feeling and an apology is poised to fall from his lips - but you just whine again. “Oh, is that what you want? You want me to fuck your pretty little face?”

You nod as best you can and Din has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check. It ignites something almost animalistic in him when these moments align so perfectly; his need to be in control rises to meet your need to be taken, and the two of you become one. Din’s wide palm settles at the back of your head to steady you against the slow, steady pace of his thrusts. His free hand grabs one of yours and laces your fingers together, and the familiar unspoken agreement passes between you.

Squeeze my hand if you want me to stop.

The muscle in his jaw jumps at the sight you make. Unshed tears shine in your eyes as you gaze up at him, your lips stretched around the thickness of his cock. His fingers drift across your cheekbone and the steady pace he’s built falters as you instinctually lean into the familiar touch. Din’s heartbeat stutters. It's so simple, the absolute trust you show him. Even as your throat flutters around the almost too-big stretch of his cock, your eyes glimmer with so much love that Din nearly drowns in the overwhelming wave of intimacy. His stomach tightens, his stamina dashed in the wake of your beauty. It's enough to force him to pull you away. He can’t finish now, not like this. Not until he has you laid out beneath him, trembling and sweat-slick under his nimble fingers. He has been fantasizing about it for days, the idea taking the front stage of his mind and consuming all of his attention.

“Fuck, wait…” Din grits out through clenched teeth. His blunt fingernails dig into the thick muscle of his thigh as he tries to drag himself away from that edge. You just smile up at him, all too aware of the effect you have on him, and Din can’t help himself. He guides you up with a hand on the back of your neck and kisses you fiercely, completely unbothered by the taste of himself lingering on your tongue. He grumbles against your lips, “You’re too good at that.”

You don’t have long to preen under his praise. Din has the body of a hard-working man; he’s thick, all well-built muscle and startlingly fast reflexes as if he was handcrafted by the highest divinity. He’s powerful. And he has no issue in using that power to manhandle you onto the bed. Din kneels on the bed and uses his broad stature to his advantage, your thighs forced to part as he braces them against his own. The opportunities feel endless with you lying so close, so exposed beneath him. Din aches to worship every inch of your body. He wants to tease you with his tongue and fingers until you beg him, until his name falls from your lips, all sugared and desperate and ethereal.

Din hums a pleased sound as he finally lets his touch gravitate between your thighs. You’re so warm, so slick. “I haven't even touched you and you're so wet…”

“Yeah, well,” You chuckle breathily. “I missed you, too.”

That whispered confession makes his heart lurch. He has to sink his teeth into the delicate, already sore flesh inside his cheek to rein in the instinct that rears its head; that old animalistic instinct that screams at him to bend you over and fuck you, raw and unrelenting until he has his fill. He knows he’ll give in to it soon, but first… first he needs to show you the devotion you deserve. A shudder wracks through your body at the insistent exploration of his fingertips as they delve deeper into your pussy, teasing at your entrance before sliding up to brush against your clit. He’s entranced by the petal-soft feeling of your skin; so soft, so warm. He could stay like this for hours.

But then your breathing goes unsteady and you grind against his hand in a feeble attempt for more. “Please, Din.”

The fragile hold on his self control snaps.

Two fingers sink into your pussy and Din moans at the feeling of your wet heat tightening, trying to draw him even deeper as if he isn’t already buried knuckle deep. His other hand braces against the pillowy flesh of your inner thigh to keep your legs spread wide. He isn’t letting you hide from him, not tonight. Those two fingers curl up, driven by muscle memory and an overwhelming need to make you see stars, and he’s rewarded with your cries of pleasure. His fingers are thick and calloused from years of hard work, and he knows just how to use them to make you scream.

Din works your pussy in eager strokes, easing his fingers out of you only to introduce a third on his way back in. He watches with bated breath as you devolve into a whimpering, writhing mess. The sheets are your only anchor against the onslaught of pleasure. Your fingers twist the expensive fabric so tight that your nails threaten to tear right through it, but you can’t help it - not when his thumb is rubbing precise circles over your clit until you see stars. Your hips roll and a strangled whimper falls from your lips, and Din can feel it. He can feel the intensity that radiates from you the closer he draws you to a devastating orgasm.

You’re just so easy for him to read. Every hitch in your breath, every jerk of your hips, every rhythmic pulse of your walls. The siren song of your body is impossible to resist. You whisper his name, lovesick and aching, and Din knows you’re close. Some small, cruel part of him wants to leave you right there on the precipice with euphoria hanging just outside of your reach. The bigger part of him, though? It won’t rest until you break for him.

“Let go,” Din rasps, leaning closer to kiss your thigh. The roughness of his stubble makes you jerk in surprise. He can’t take his eyes off of your face, too enraptured by the sight of you falling apart just from his touch. “Fuck, you look… you’re so beautiful, cyare.”

The praise sends you trembling. You manage to meet his eyes for a mere second before you throw your head back into the plush pillows, a broken cry choking through the clench of your teeth as you rock your hips down into his touch. Din lets you take and take without hesitation until you finally shatter. The violent arch of your spine forces Din upright to give you the space you need, his hand still working you through your orgasm in steadily slowing strokes.

“Fuck, that - you… so good, you did so good for me.” Din trips over his words in his haste to praise you but it still affects you all the same. You give him that love-drunk smile as he presses closer to hover over you, his broad form caging you in against the bed. He knows you’re still lost in the bliss of it all but he just can’t help himself from dragging his lips along your jaw and neck, leaving sloppy kisses and teasing bites in his wake. It has been days since he had the chance to properly shave and the rough feeling of his stubble against your skin makes you squirm and laugh brightly. “You have no idea how - fuck…”

He can’t even find the words to tell you just how much he needed this, how much he needed you, but he doesn’t need them. You whisper ‘I know,” before kissing him, your tongue teasing his soft lower lip, and Din whines. A sound of pure need and adoration. He crowds closer to deepen the kiss and he can’t help the small canting of his hips as his neglected cock nudges your thigh. It isn’t easy to ignore the ache that has been building but he wants to give you time to really come down and recover - he is an excellent lover, after all. But he isn’t the only one who has been impatiently awaiting this moment.

The shock of your fingers wrapping around his cock has Din breaking the kiss with a rough gasp, those dark brown eyes widening as they lock with yours. He can see his own lust mirrored in them as you guide him closer and line him up, too impatient to wait for him to move of his own volition. You’re breathtaking in your need for him. It never fails to stroke his ego, to make him feel like the most desirable man in the world. An unspoken question passes between you, one you answer with your thighs wrapping around his waist, and Din’s willpower to ignore his urges vanishes.

Din sinks into your wet heat, doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt and the head of his cock nudges your cervix. He usually pauses there, just to give you time to adjust to the obscene stretch, but the animal instinct that burns between you is too much to ignore. His blunt nails bite into the soft flesh of your hips as he pins you beneath him, keeping you still and unable to escape the sharp, fast shove of his hips - as if you would dream of trying. The entire bed shudders and jerks under the weight of Din’s strength.

It doesn’t take long for Din’s large hand to find its way to your throat, his forefinger and thumb digging into the hinges of your jaw. He doesn’t restrict your breathing; Din just wants to keep your eyes on him as he fucks you brainless. Your lips part with a small gasp and an awed, pleasure-struck smile blooms across your face, and warmth unfurls through Din’s body at the sight you make. So beautiful, so intoxicated by his touch. He can’t deny you when your chin tilts, your wordless request for a kiss met by a soft brush of his lips. Such a soft, gentle thing should seem out of place in the deliciously harsh treatment of your body, but it doesn’t. It feels so right that his chest aches with it.

Din’s nose brushes yours as he hitches your hips higher and suddenly your back arches, his name cried out right against his lips. He drinks in the sounds of your ecstasy, the very nectar of the gods he needs to go on. The slight shift in angle only deepens as he damn near presses your body in half, your knees pressed back into your chest. The sharp shift makes you feel even tighter, especially as your pussy throbs deliciously around his cock. You whimper a broken sound because you know just how fucked you are. The position isn’t easy for either of you to hold but it just hurts so damn good, a perfect pinch of pain against endless waves of pleasure that makes you gush around him. Din doesn’t fuck you like this until the very end, when you’re both eager for release and clawing for that last little bit to throw you over the edge.

The earnest press of his thumb against your clit sends you reeling, the sensitivity almost too much to handle, but you both know he won’t rest until he hears you scream his name again. It’s sharp and electric, and Din knows just how to play your body until you break. Your hips jerk away on instinct before surging forward once more, driven by greed and pure, unadulterated pleasure. A whisper of ‘just like that’ is all the encouragement he needs to work through the burn in his thighs and keep his sharp pace, his violent thrusts shoving you further up the bed. It’s so fucking worth it just to feel your pussy tighten around him so hard you nearly force his cock out. Your thighs tremble and your hand flies up to press against his chest as you choke out a vague warning, your words nearly unintelligible as the surge of your orgasm gushes from you to wet his thighs and belly.

The feeling makes his rough pace stutter in shock and Din growls your name, fascination and lust burning hot in his tone as realization washes over him. It’s the only thought playing on a loop in his mind - he made you fucking squirt. He’s always wanted to see it, to feel the wetness of your cum on his skin. Delight and pride sing in his veins as he falls into a sloppy pace of short, rough strokes. Your slick drips along his thighs in little rivulets down to soak into the sheets and Din finally breaks. He doesn’t pull out - some filthy part of him wants to see his cum mixed with yours, dripping from your fucked out hole just so he can shove it back in with his fingers. He wants you marked as his, just as you have marked him as yours.

“Was that…” Din asks, his dry throat making his voice even rougher. “Did I really make you…”

“You did,” You answer his half-finished question with a breathy chuckle - as if you haven’t just rocked his entire fucking world.

You welcome the heavy weight of his body sinking into yours. Even with the ache in your thighs and back from his rough manipulation of your body, you let your legs shift back down to his waist and stroke the soft curls at the back of his head. Din kisses the valley between your breasts, a small offering of appreciation as he buries his face in your chest. The exhaustion of the last days - hell, of the last hours - vies to take over. Din lies in the embrace of your arms and your cunt, your overstimulated walls pulsing around his softening cock, and he finally feels at peace. At home, safe in the bed you share. But the urge to care for you is much stronger than the urge for sleep.

Din carefully untangles your body from his. Your disgruntled little groan is shushed with promises of a quick return and a fleeting kiss to your forehead. He has his own little ritual for those moments after he’s fucked you senseless. Water, a soft robe, maybe a snack or two, and a small cloth soaked in warm water. He catches a glimpse of the little smile on his face in the bathroom mirror as he wrings the excess water into the sink. It all feels so… right. For once, he isn’t searching for somewhere, for someone. He feels lucky. Din takes his armful of goods and that little smile of his back to you - and he nearly drops it all at the sight of you.

You are glowing in the aftermath. A light sheen of sweat illuminates your body in the low light, shows off the curves of your body as you lie prone in the expensive sheets he bought just for you. The crook of your elbow hides your face from view, but he already knows the blissful expression that is tucked away there. It is seared into his memory, one of his most beloved memories. Every ounce of tension has left your being; you’re loose and relaxed without a care in the universe. Elegant and beautiful with the evidence of his presence drying on your thighs, darkening the curve of your hips in the shape of his fingers. You are a goddess in your own right and Din knows he will spend every moment of his life worshiping at the altar of your body. He revels in that knowledge, takes the utmost peace in it.

Life may be chaotic and uncertain, but this… this is eternal.

In these quiet moments, he knows you crave his touch more than anything. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, skin on skin as he eases you through the submissive haze. Din settles close to you, propped up on his elbow, and sets about taking care of his lover. You wince just slightly as he passes the cloth along your sore cunt. Murmured apologies are met with dismissive hums. No words need to be said for your message to get across. I loved it. Don’t apologize for giving me what I want. Still, he pays close attention to the marks he left on your body. The soft floral scent of your favorite lotion lingers in the air long after he’s finished using it to ease the knots in your muscles.

Din loves taking his time with his aftercare. Once he has you cleaned up and rehydrated, he snuggles in close and lets his hands wander. His fingers trace nonsensical patterns into your plush thighs, over your belly, and up your sides. You shiver as his fingertips trail over your ribs and shoot him a warning look that he knows all too well. His sweet little woman, so sensitive to his touch. He does know better than to tickle you, so he instead slips his fingers beneath your jaw and tilts you up into a soft kiss. While he has you enraptured by his lips, his hand falls to your chest, cupping your breast in his large hand and groping you shamelessly. It's so silly that you pull away with a playfully incredulous laugh and Din can’t help but smile, one eyebrow raised as he takes in how beautiful you look.

“I really did miss you, you know.” You say as you reach up to brush his hair away from his forehead. Din sighs and captures your hand in his, drawing it up to his lips to kiss each of your fingertips, your knuckles, even your palm.

“I love you.” The words fall from his lips without thought. It startles him, his own candor. The vulnerability of it. But just as anxiety begins to crest, it’s burned away by the bright grin that blooms across your face.

You tug him closer, your lips brushing his as you whisper, “I love you, too.”, like a little secret, just for the two of you - and you kiss him. You keep kissing him, pulling him down until his body is pressed fully against yours. Din doesn’t know how long the two of you lay there, languidly kissing and whispering little confessions of love, but he knows he would stay there forever.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #mando x reader #din djarin x reader smut #mando x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

Text

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑨𝑼𝑹𝑶𝑹𝑨 𝑩𝑶𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑺

pairing: din djarin x fem!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, romance, smut, forced proximity

word count: 2.8k

summary: A friend, lover, then stranger. The last thing you expected was to be snowed in along with the bounty hunter. Tension rises as the past circles you both, trapped in the Razor Crest with no where to run or hide.

warnings: established past relationship, piv, touch starved din, creampie, also this takes place after S2 but the Razor Crest is still here because I love it so much and miss it

a/n: As some people might remember, I had a winter WIP list called 'Psychedelic Winter,' and this was one of the fics that I said I would write. And I thought, 'Hey, what better moment to post this than the day Mando S3 drops?' Enjoy everyone, happy mando day!

When you were thrown onto an icy planet by your so-called colleagues, you didn’t really have a plan for survival. It was your fault really, you were too trusting, too eager to help and be useful. It was a stupid habit that you had since very little, forced to feed yourself in this lonely lonely world.

However, it wasn’t always like that.

With a shudder, you hug yourself, your boot-clad feet buried in the snow. The flakes feel like glass shattering across your skin, painful and cold. Even your lungs tremble from it. As you walk forward, your mind brutally reminds you of him. A man that became a friend, a confidant which had quickly turned into something more. Heat pools between your legs at the mere thought of it, the feeling of emptiness and cold prominent.

The Mandalorian. Mando. Din Djarin. Din.

You miss him still. You can’t really help it. You loved traveling with him, and after such a long time, you truly felt like you belonged. He became family. He became your everything. Soon after your little family grew, Grogu joining the fray. It felt like a dream, you were finally living out what you’d been searching for.

But that all changed when Grogu had to return to his own kind. The Jedi. Din grew distant, he pulled away, not responding to you or your touches. You just felt grief emanating from him, something that you couldn’t fix. He didn’t ask you to leave, you just left. Once again alone, once again without a home.

In your desperate attempt to replace it, you went with anyone who would tolerate your presence. You’ve met some good people, but you’ve met some assholes too—obviously.

Your lashes turn into cold crystals, stinging every time you blink. In the distance you see a hint of yellow light that bleeds into red, you can feel the warmth of it despite being far away. Like a moth to a flame, you walk towards it, your steps fighting against the cold wind and the snow. You can’t feel your fingertips anymore, or your legs, or your face for that matter. You’re flirting with death.

You notice that the ship most likely crashed. You press your freezing palms into the metal, still hot, a soft heat spreading throughout your hand and blossoming across your arms. You let out a sigh. It feels familiar like you’ve been here almost. Teeth clattering, you reach the door and give it a loud knock, your fists hurt when you do it, but you manage to muster your last bits of strength.

The door opens with a muffled hiss and you find yourself immediately staring into a blaster.

A very familiar blaster.

You quickly realize why this ship felt familiar, it was the goddamn Razor Crest. Your home—once upon a time.

The blaster falters, and you stare into the familiar dark visor, he tilts his head. You like to imagine that he’s happy to see you despite the shock. With a crooked smile, you mimic his movement, cocking your head to the side.

“Hey, Din.”

Everything is the same. Everything is different. It’s weird to be back within the Razor Crest’s metal walls. The ship creaks with the wind, metal groaning as Din sits across from you, his legs spread and elbows leaning over his knees. You chew the inside of your cheek. Having such intimate memories with someone is an odd thing, your body still remembers what it felt like to be filled so thoroughly by him, to have his large hands squeezing and kneading your ass as you dripped and begged for more.

Heat settles right below your spine. You wonder if it’s the same for him too. Had he thought of you after you left? Had he rutted into the pillows imagining that it was you instead?

Probably not.

“The engines are messed up from the cold but as soon as the storm lets up a bit we should be good to go,” he says, refocusing your focus back on him. “We’re going to be stuck here for a while.”

You nod, not really knowing what else to say. To be honest, you’re slightly embarrassed that he’s seeing you like this.

“How did you end up here?” he asks.

The question surprises you because you hadn’t expected him to make conversation. You can’t tell if he’s angry or not from the modulated voice. He sounds like he always does. You look up to him, wishing you could see his face.

“Grouped up with the wrong people. You?”

“After a bounty.”

“Ah, the same old.”

“Pretty much.”

The following silence is uncomfortable, it makes you feel unwelcomed and slightly gross. You don’t know what to say. What can you say to the man you basically abandoned? That was never your intention, but it was what he wanted. He didn’t need you around, reminding him of something important that he’d lost.

Your mouth acts unfiltered, the horror sinking in as soon as you ask.

“Have you heard from Grogu?”

He stiffens quite visibly. His shoulders raise, his visor looks down. You curse your tongue from moving on its own. Din’s anger is physically felt by you, it chokes out the air from your lungs, forces the soles of your shoes to be glued to the floor. Your eyes go wide and you swallow. Your lips are sealed shut when he stands, his figure suddenly larger and taller than what you’ve been used to from your memories.

“You don’t need to ask about him,” he answers curtly. “We don’t need to talk at all.”

Din storms towards the back of the ship, his long strides reverberating through the metal walls. His sudden outburst leaves you stunned, your thoughts scrambled like the tangled wires of a circuit board. The sound of sparks and him tinkering with something echoes within the confinements. You’re stunned. Confused. You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do, before the ship groans and shudders again. A loud groan vibrating from your feet to your chest.

Your feet move of their own accord, propelled by a mix of curiosity and concern. As you approach, the cacophony of tinkering grows louder, the metallic clinks and whirs blending into a symphony of sound. At first glance it looks like he’s doing nothing, crouched over, just occupying his hands. You reach out to touch his shoulder, a hesitant gesture. To your surprise, he leans in instinctively, his body responding to your touch like a magnet to metal.

But then jerks away, as if he’s been burned.

“What did you mean by that?” you ask, pulling away.

He huffs, his hands falling. “I just said we don’t have to talk.”

“What if I want to talk? I missed you, Din.”

It’s an unexpected, sudden confession but you decide to go with it. It isn’t a lie. You did miss him.

“Miss me?” he hisses out, his head falling back, he stares at the ceiling. “You left.”

“What? Are…are you blaming me for what happened?”

“No,” he stands up, his masked face an inch away from yours. You fight the urge to take a step back. He wouldn’t hurt you. He slowly tilts his head as if he’s amused by whatever expression you’re pulling. “I’m stating a fact. Didn’t you go?”

Your eyes fall to his chest, “I did but—”

“Then I find you on the brink of death, shivering, helpless,” he lets out a deep breath, chest heaving. “Was it worth it?”

“I left because you didn’t want me around.”

Your gaze snaps back up. He doesn’t move, the visor staring back at you feels colder compared to the storm raging outside. The build-up of tears is sudden, overwhelming. Your face controls with anger, your brows pinched and your lips curling down. The rage twists in your gut, you’ve been suffering, doing jobs left and right to feed yourself. And he has the audacity to tell you that it’s your fault? That he never wanted you to leave?

Bullshit.

Without thinking you push him away, your hands finding the cold plates that decorate his chest. He doesn’t move. An indestructible wall. Shaking your head, you push at him again, and again, and again. When nothing works, you hammer down with fists. Your heart beats loudly and painfully in your chest. You can’t breathe. You can’t speak. It’s suffocating and cold. So fucking cold.

Your fists stop mid-air when he holds them, gloved fingers wrapped tightly around your wrists.

“I never asked you to leave.”

“You didn’t have to,” your eyes fall, shame heating your cheeks. “You barely spoke to me. Touched me. It felt like I was reminding you of a tainted memory. Something you could never have again.”

“That’s not…dank farrik—”

He pulls you in, arms coiling around you with the intent to never let go. The beskar is uncomfortable but comforting. Your hands shake as you return in like, wrapping your arms around him weakly. His hand cradles the back of your head, the other one sliding down to rest against the small of your back. He doesn’t say a word but you know this is his own peculiar way of apologizing. Even if he’s not sure what he’s apologizing for. Neither of you are. Luckily, you have a very functional mouth.

“I thought you wanted me gone after…I didn’t know. I should’ve realized you were hurting. I was so afraid of what you might say that I acted before you actually said it.”

“I was never planning on saying it,” he answers. “I missed you too, mesh’la.”

His scent; metal, musk, and something sweet fills your lungs. You take deep inhales of him, grounding yourself back to reality. The hard surface of his helmet presses into the top of your head. The ache between your legs is uncomfortable, you want to touch him, feel his bare skin against yours.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

You answer. “With my life.”

“Then close your eyes for me. Let me guide you.”

You do as you’re told. A dance that you’ve grown accustomed to once upon a time. The hiss of a helmet, the touch of his lips, the feeling of his hands cupping your bottom. He slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, reminding himself of what you felt like all those times ago. He tastes the memories he hasn’t been a part of, he gets used to the differences.

When he parts, it’s hard to keep your eyelids from fluttering. You don’t open them, but the tease of the what if always remains. What would happen if you gave into temptation? Would he know you’ve seen him? Would he be angry? Would he never see you again? Would it be worth the risk?

No, you think, It wouldn’t.

“Touch me, riduur, I need you to touch me,” the last plea is spoken brokenly. “please.”

Your hands roam his armor, blindly helping him out of it, touching every exposed skin and muscle. He’s trembling under your touch. You feel the thrust of his hips into yours, still clothed, desperate. Your skin prickles when you feel the hardness, heat pooling between your legs, and tingling. You’re just as desperate as he is.

He takes your hand and leads you to the bunk. You feel him everywhere. His lips are on your breasts, kissing a trail down and circling the pebbled nipple with the tip of his tongue. He opens his mouth wide, fitting as much as he can as he sucks and bites. You arch into him, your hands still touching—tracing his back, cupping his ass, pulling him closer, asking him to thrust against you in the same desperate manner he had not moments ago.

“Why did you leave?” he asks between wet, needy kisses. “Why did you go?”

“I don’t know,” you say over and over. “I was scared, I’m sorry, I love you.”

It was like a song that was whispered for their ears only. It’s a symphony of reminding themselves what they’d lost, and what they’d gained.

Feeling him inside is a beautiful thing. Din is not a small man, not in the slightest, and he has to cover your eyes just in case when he fills you. It’s a smooth entry, your wetness enough to pull him deep inside. Your walls flutter, the blissful pain of the stretch makes you moan his name. The first thrust is like fireworks in your mind, bursting with pleasure. The second one you feel like ice, melting into the motion of his hips and the warmth of his cock.

“Harder,” you breathe out. “Harder, fuck me, Din.”

His teeth sink into your neck, his pacing fast, hard. The sound of skin against skin is loud enough to drown the sound of the snowstorm outside. You push against each thrust, albeit your movements not really doing much, uncoordinated and unpracticed. Din pins your hips down, his fingers like iron branding your skin. He hammers into you, the dark curls stimulating your clit forcing out a gasp from you.

“Look at me.”

“What?”

“Look at me. Open your eyes.”

His hips slow down into a tortuous grind. Your bottom lip trembles at the thought. You’re scared to open your eyes, and frankly, you’re not sure if you heard him right. His thumb smooths over your closed lid, gently pulling them down.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers. “I want to see you. I want to see the look in your eyes when you come for me. I want you to see mine.”

“Are…are you sure?”

Your heart feels like a ticking time bomb, your chest ready to explode, the ticking in your ears too loud.

“I’m sure.”

Your eyes open incredibly slow, fearful. Din’s face clears up and you see him smiling down at you, his hair mussed, sticking to his forehead due to sweat. Hesitantly, you place a hand on his cheek, feeling the trimmed down hairs with the pad of your thumb. He leans into your touch.

“Now, that wasn’t so scary was it?” he asks, you smile and shake your head.

“No, it wasn’t.”

He kisses you. It’s different this time, softer, slower. He resumes his thrusts, hips snapping into you with the intent of release. His one hand slides between your bodies, thick fingers finding your clit and starting to draw quick, tight circles around the sensitive nub. The skin above your stomach grows tight, your thighs shaking against the broadness of his hips. You can’t get enough of him. Kissing him and at the same time trying to look at him. You engrave his face into memory.

Din breaks the kiss with a rush, his one hand cradles your cheek, tilting your head up to him. He holds your gaze, his lips parted. You feel your cunt fluttering around him, his cock heavy and throbbing deep inside you. Din spills into you with a groan, his hips stuttering forward. You follow right after, the sight of him too much. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and his eyes roll back, you gush around him, your body convulsing as a silent promise never to let him go.

When both of you come down from your highs, he kisses you. Again and again. A man starved. A man desperate. Only one plea falling from his lips.

“Touch me.”

You wake up with his touch on your shoulder. When you open your eyes memories come flooding back, you and Din, again you had found your home. You wince as you slowly get up, the ache between your legs uncomfortable but missed. You notice that Din is in full armor, waiting for you outside of the cot.

“Come with me,” he says, voice hoarse. “I want to show you something.”

He helps you into your clothes and his hand never leaves your waist as the two of you make your way up to the cockpit. The storm had subsided, only snow falling scarcely from the heavens above. He points you to look up, and you do.

Your breath catches in your throat. The sky is alight with an otherworldly dance of colors - the aurora borealis.

The lights shift and shimmer, painting the sky with vibrant hues of green, blue, and purple. It's as if the entire galaxy has come to life, it’s beautiful.

Din's arms wrap around you from behind, and you melt into his embrace. The warmth of his body against yours, the strength of his grip, and the steady rhythm of his breathing all serve to ground you in the moment. You feel safe, and you feel loved.

The aurora continues to dance above you, you lean your head back against Din's chest. It's like nothing else matters in the world except for this moment - just the two of you, surrounded by the beauty of the cosmos.

And as you look up at the lights, you know that you are home.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #mando x you #mando x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

2K notes · View notes

guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

Note

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.”

•

2K notes · View notes

deakyjoe · 1 year

Text

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!

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