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peterparkersnose · 1 year

Text

Sucks to Suck

pairing: Din Djarin x senator!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: near death experience, sexual references, sexual thots, not smut but sensual i guess?, alcohol consumption and drunk reader, respect of consent, SEXUAL TENSION and description of weaponds and snakes, tiny bit of body dysmorphia, swearing, takes place in between S2 of the Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett

The Mandalorian Airs Tomorrow!

a/n you guys see my padme reference there? huh? enjoy the tension the not angst but angst i loved writing this (it is 1am help i started writing this at 10pm) the sighing gif is literally din giving into his intrusive thoughts this whole story it was too perfect not to use (also i make up star wars planets lmao wut) my favorite mandalorian fic of mine besides secret

summary Din is Senator Y/N’s bodyguard and helps her after an attack

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read time: 10 mins 1 seconds

The Mandalorian your father hired to protect you while you were visiting planet Elaeia was less than ideal.

The same one who also came back to accompany you to a senate meet where there was a threat made against your life.

And the same one that followed you around your whole beach vacation.

Somehow he turned in to an on call babysitter for you. Every time you saw him waiting outside your ship you began to loathe the trip. And soon, he began to show up around your house. Didn’t your father trust you? You were way past the age for need of a babysitter. You were a young adult, you could be the babysitter. And you were a damn senator. But as always, you sucked it up and tried to make the best of the situation.

“Don’t you ever get tired of the suit?” you asked, trudging up the stairs of your luxury apartment you rented for the week.

“Never.” Din lied. He couldn’t count the countless times he had wanted to rip it off and spent a night with you. Chills sent down his spine as he tried to think of something different to ease himself into the long week ahead.

But you were work. Your powerful father was paying him more than any bounty could. He needed the credits more than he needed you, right?

“What do you wear under there anyways?”

He hesitated to answer. “Clothes.”

“Really?” you asked sarcastically.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he muttered, almost barely enough for you to hear.

“Where are you going to crash tonight?” you asked him, placing your bag on the ottoman in front of your bed. “Not tired,” he lied again. The way he wanted to hold you in that comfortable bed was-

He had to stop his thoughts there.

“What time is it?” you asked him. “Around 7.”

“Shit! I’m going to be late.” you panicked. “I’m sorry, I thought we had some time to rest.” you apologized, knowing Din was exhausted from the trip.

The dress that was already hung in the closet for you was what you were going to wear to the banquet tonight. Without even caring, you opened your bag and pulled out the bra you were going to wear for the night. Without hesitation, Din stepped out of the room. Not today.

The dress was a deep blue and was form fitted. It jutted out at the bottom, complimenting your shape. It had long sleeves and a low neckline where your necklace was going to rest that night. You tied your hair up into a large bun with a braid around the base.

“Your train is here…” Din said, stepping in the room carefully. “Thank you. Wait- Mando?”

His heart skipped a beat when you said his nickname. You had known his name for a while, but he still enjoyed it when you called him Mando. Din was stunned at how you looked. I mean, you always looked good. But he could imagine standing next to you at the banquet in a suit, your arm draped over his and a ring on your finger.

The armor didn’t exist in that world.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Can you get this for me?” you asked, handing him the necklace you were going to wear that night. It was gold. Large and resembled tree roots. It was to sit along your chest and clip under your breasts along with behind your neck to stay put.

He handled the necklace carefully. His arms reached up and placed the necklace in front of you as his fingers trailed up the back to clasp the neck clasp.

“Dank farrik,” he sighed. His gloves were in the way of handling the tiny clasp. “Hold it for a second,” he told you. Din sighed as he made the decision. He slowly slipped off each glove and set them down on the bed.

You seemed to tense when his hands brushed your shoulders. You turned your head and saw his gloves sitting at the edge of your bed. The skin was cold and his hands were surprisingly soft.

Din hadn’t touched a woman with his bare hands well… ever. Sure he had brought in bounties who could identify as female. But nobody as elegant and beautiful as you. He would never forget the oddly intimate encounter.

“Thank you,” you said smoothly, adjusting the necklace around your ribcage. “You could call this more of a corset,” you huffed, smiling as you caught a glimpse of his skin as he slipped his gloves back on.

Standing in the mirror, you struggled getting the bottom clasp closed. You turned your body, trying to see if you had gained a bit of weight since you last wore this piece.

“Din,” you called sweetly, almost with a bit of song in your voice. He turned around on his heel as you saw from the mirror and it made you smile. “Yes?” he asked in the same tone you called him.

The way you called for him made him think about one of the rare memories he had of his parents. How one called out to the other. It was a brief moment but gave him deja vu when he heard you speak his name. Speak his name like a wife would call to her husband.

“It won’t-”

The sigh from his modulator was hard to miss.

“Can you help?” you asked, eyes looking up into his viser.

“I’ll hold them, don’t worry.” you smiled, your hands branching down lifting up your breasts.

Under the mask his eyes widened at the comment.

Din got down on his knees to try to get a better angle of the clasp. No other reason. He tried his best to focus on the clip but he couldn’t keep his eyes off the way you held yourself. Thank the gods for the viser, or he would have died of embarrassment.

“How’s it going?” you asked him. You could feel him struggling again with the gloves.

“What if I…”

You attempted to hold your breasts with one arm and had the other hand come down to help him, but the plan failed. Your boobs folded over on his hands without fail.

His hands quickly retreated from your ribcage. You noticed the stress in his demeanor, his breathing quickened.

You thought he was upset with you. Possibly disrespecting his creed, you felt horrible. Guilt knit tightly in your stomach as you knew you were going to think about this event the whole night. The embarrassment was enough for a lifetime.

Din couldn’t care less about his creed at the moment. He had never felt boobs before.

“Oh god! I am so sorry,” you said in horror.

“I can have someone at the banquet do it, let’s just forget-”

You were silenced by the sound of his gloves hitting the ground. Once again, his hands were at your service.

“Let’s get this done. We’re going to be late.” he said.

Grabbing the chain once again, he clasped it on the first try.

He escorted you to the train silently. He held one of your hands in his. The other hand held his pair of gloves.

Din hadn’t even notice you grabbed his hand. And to be honest, you didn’t really either. It was an instinct. Trains always freaked you out and he knew that. The gap between the ground and the train car, the speed they went at. Commercial trains were filled with unsuspecting people. Thankfully, the banquet event sent out personal trains for some of the local senators.

Finally you only noticed when he pulled away to put his gloves back on as you pulled closer to the event.

Had he really been holding your hand the whole time?

Meanwhile back at the apartment you had rented, you expected it to be empty. There was no need for a guard, you had only just arrived. Your location to be revealed to possible rebels wasn’t likely, you were stationed there for only a short time. A guard would follow you home along with Din.

You knew Din was capable of protecting you, he had every time. Something about a man in armor killing in your name just did something to you. But the uncertainty of almost everything about him made you push that idea to the back of your mind. And anyways, you were bound to marry for a political reason some day. It was coming eventually you assumed. Dates were never nearly as exciting as an adventure with Din.

The guard honestly was a joke at this point. It gave your advisors a piece of mind though, so you allowed it.

The seemingly empty apartment was carefully broken into. The sliding glass door from the balcony was opened, no fingerprints left and promptly shut as the rebel left.

Poisonous snakes were left slithering in your sheets.

It was something you would later recognize as a similar thing had happened to a senator many years ago. Poisonous bugs left to crawl in her bed.

Din walked you off the train platform and back to your apartment as quickly as he could. You, on the other hand, we’re being difficult.

“Don’t you ever take vacations?” you asked him, barely able to stand upright. He ignored your strange drunken question and kept holding on to you. “You didn’t answer meee!” you yelled, breaking free from his grasp and raising your hands to the air. The mist had accumulated from the oncoming storm.

“No. I don’t.” he sighed, grabbing your arm gently and guiding you back to the lobby with a hand placed on your lower back.

“Din,” you slurred, holding on to his armor in the elevator. Your fingers marched up his beskar chest plate as you asked him this.

“You ever had a girlfriend before?”

He blinked furiously under his helmet. What the fuck?

“Y/N, let’s get you to bed. Hm?”

“But Dinnn,”

“Come on,” he sighed, placing his hand on your back. The guard was stationed at the door. Din gave him a nod.

“I’m not sleepy!” you insisted, angered that you were being forced to end this wonderful night.

Din threw his gloves on the kitchen counter. He was getting sick of the things. After all these years in gloves, his hands never felt as uncomfortable and sweaty as they did that night.

“Here,” he sighed, steadying you by the shoulder and unclasping the clasp by your neck. The heavy necklace seemed to fall off yourself, only slightly catching at the waist.

“Thank you mister.” you said, letting it drop to the floor with a shake of your hips. Along with that you left your heels.

He saw you face dive into your bed and chuckled a bit as he was picking up after you. That necklace was probably worth more than the beskar he was wearing.

Din eyed up the couch, exhausted after watching you all night. He stood in the balcony of the event and watched you drink yourself almost to the point of embarrassment until he decided it was time for you to return home.

He had just began to settle in when he heard you scream.

It wasn’t like he had heard you scream before. He was used to all the rage screams when an article came out portraying you negatively. He was used to all the screams over the phone with your friends. He was used to the muffled screams he heard as he hid in his quarters when you would have dates over and prayed it would end.

But he would never forget this one.

He knocked over the vase on the coffee table, but didn’t really care.

The prolonged scream attracted the interest of the guard who busted in, spear ready.

Din had made it in the room first. He drew his blaster watched as you simultaneously chucked a snake in his direction. His blaster shot, killing the thing.

“Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing you immediately. You wrapped your arms around his neck and cried into his armor.

The guard ripped back the sheets and found three more slithering in the sheets. The sight of that made you shriek more.

Din’s hand ran across the back of your head. His fingers hadn’t felt hair like that in forever. His own locks didn’t match up to your softness.

The guard removed each snake and silently killed them.

“Cardillian Greybecks,” the guard sighed, now bagging the snake carcasses. “I’m going to bring these down to the base, are you two all right alone or should I call someone?”

“We’re fine.” Din said sternly, praying for the man to leave.

He calmed you enough to sit you back down on the edge of the bed. “Everything is okay. No more snakes, see?” he says, shaking out a blanket.

“Fuck,” you sighed, your hand running down the side of your leg. “You alright?” Din asked, shaking out the pillows just in case.

“I must have scratched my leg in the scuffle, it really fucking hurts.” you slurred, rubbing the side of your leg. Of course the alcohol was still there.

“Oh gods,” Din sighed, asking for your leg immediately. Laying back against the bed, you lifted your right leg in the air for him to inspect. If he wasn’t so worried he would have thought the pose was somewhat provocative.

“Shit,” he sighed. You were bitten.

“What?” you asked eagerly, pulling your leg back. He held on to it though, staring at the festering wound on your leg.

“It hurts. Please,” you begged, pulling your leg back. Din was scrambling on what to do.

“This…” he sighed, hating the only option available. There wasn’t enough time to get you to a proper medic.

“Hold still.”

He slowly lifted his helmet up to the bottom of his nose to reveal his mouth and chin.

“Din!” you yelled as his lips made contact with your skin. “What the-” you began, but immediately soothed as you felt the venom leaving your bite. A needy moan escaped from your lips.

Din spat out the first round of venom. It stung his lips. It wasn’t enough to kill him, it wasn’t in his bloodstream. It tasted bitter and artificial.

“Oh my god,” you whined as his lips continued to suck on the wound. “Din, holy fuck.” you moaned, squirming in his grasp.

Even though you just had been on the brink of death, this was one of the most sensual things you had ever experienced in your opinion. The thought of his lips teasing you drove you up the walls.

He spit out another round. “One more, I’m sorry.”

You gasped at his voice. No mask, no modulator. “Oh gods, don’t stop.” you begged. Your back arched as he took in the final round, finally tasting blood to indicate the venom was gone.

He spit it out on the ground and slipped his mask back on.

“What?” he asked out of breathe. He had convinced himself he didn’t just hear what he thought he did. His ears were muffled by the mask in its awkward position.

Sitting up in bed, you patted the mattress. He sat down.

“That was so hot,” you whispered near his ear.

He didn’t say anything to you. You had prayed he would rip off his mask and take you then and there. Din wanted the same thing too, he would feverishly re play this night over and over in his mind for years.

But you were wasted. And he had a creed.

Even though after each passing day without Grogu his allegiance to his creed drew weaker, he still had his limits.

Din knew you would regret those words in the morning. But the phrase Cara told him many moons ago rung in his brain.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts.”

“Talk to me when your sober.” he replied. He stood up and removed the base of the helmet once again. You embraced his body as he kissed you on the top of your head.

“Din,” you feverishly whispered. Without a second thought, you stood up. His body pushed against yours as you passionately kissed his lips. Your nose bumped the mask up more, but neither of you cared. His nose brushed against yours as you kept your eyes shut. The urge to look was strong, but you respected him too much to take a peek.

“One day,” he smiled, breaking the kiss. “Are you sure I can’t see more?” you asked. He shook his head as he pulled the mask down again. “One day,” he repeated, his voice now modulated again.

“Thank you for saving my life.” you said. “Any day,” he said sarcastically.

He placed the blankets securely over you.

The room was dim enough where he was sure if he was ever caught he would have an excuse. And you would lie for him, he was certain of it.

“Just one more thing-” you asked as his silhouette made its way through your door. He turned and looked at you.

“What color are your eyes?”

He had the widest smile on his face. The thought of you trying to form his face in your mind was almost comical for him.

“Brown. Good night, Cyare.”

“I knew they were brown, I knew it.” you whispered to yourself, convinced Din couldn’t hear.

He smiled as he retreated to the couch, unsure if sleep would visit him after his eventful night.

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25

@peeta-is-useless @kirsteng42 @salliebley @bubsonnobx @lexloon @untitledarea @nyotamalfoy

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netherfeildren · 9 months

Text

The Cassandra Complex : Masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x F!Reader

Summary: Enter: A man who is not so much a man, but an effigy, a wound of steel and armor and Creed – secrecy and masked faces, above all else.

Enter: A girl who is not a girl, but a creature helmed in darkness and spit out unto the galaxy broken and unmoored.

Enter: The creation of myth.

-OR-

the dark sider/mandalorian au no one knew they needed

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence; Graphic depictions of violence; Canon divergence; Themes of redemption; And forgiveness; THE RAZOR CREST LIVES BITCH!!!!; Soft!Dom Din Djarin; Protective behavior; Possessive behavior; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Breeding kink; Size difference; Size kink; Rough sex; Spanking; Overstimulation; Brat taming; Touched-Starved Din Djarin; Angst with a happy ending; Hurt/comfort; Fluff and smut; Inappropriate Use Of the Force; Discussions of infertility; References to Greek Mythology; Past abuse; Not safe to read if triggered by pregnancy; Violence as a metaphor for desire and intimacy; Other additional tags to be added

Read on AO3

PART I :

Chapter I: Apollo

Chapter II: Prometheus

Chapter III: Psyche

Chapter IV: Aite

Chapter V: Morpheus

Chapter VI : Sisyphus

Chapter VII : Hysminai

Chapter VIII : Melpomene

Interlude : Tartarus

PART II :

Chapter IX : Persephone

Chapter X: Geryon

Chapter XI: Lethe

Chapter XII: Venus

Chapter XIII: Eros

Chapter XIV: Dionysus

Chapter XV:

⚡️Din and Sithy art by the wonderfully talented @dirtysouvenir

⚡️Updates Blog : Follow and turn on notifications for new writing!

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

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plaguing my mind 24/7 is the concept of feeling really embarrassed but telling mando that you think something is wrong with you sexually, bc none of the partners you’ve been with have been able to make you come. like you are the only person who’s ever made you orgasm ever. and you tell him before anything really happens, like maybe he’s got you pushed up against a wall with his intention being to touch you for the first time or you’re sitting out by a fire at night and you squeak it out bc you have to warn him. and you’re super shy about it, trying to explain that it’s okay if he can’t do it either bc it’s gotta be something wrong with you. and he’d just give you that sexy head tilt and asks if you trust him. and he’s so intent on making this experience good for you, taking his time and talking you through it with that modulated sultry voice as he figures you out. and then gives you the best orgasm of your life, proving to you that you aren’t broken and yea….

oh, i love this

Trust Me

Din Djarin x f!reader

Din Djarin masterlist

warnings | 18+ smut, and nothing but. a little angst too. and some sweetness

....................................

It’s a heady contrast, the cool slip of beskar steel and the warm roughness of his palms as he presses her up against the thrumming wall of the Crest’s hull. Sailing through the staggering stream of hyperspace, the kid fast asleep in his bassinet, it was inevitable for them to end up like this, all tangled up.

This is a recent development in their unorthodox partnership. Din needed someone to keep a closer watch on Grogu, and she needed to get the kriff off her home planet. A perfect, if not tentative, match at first, they had been slow to find each other in this way. What started as long stares turned into brushing touches turned into lowly murmured words turned into stolen kisses, her eyes always remaining firmly closed when his lips met hers, his helmet already back in place by the time she opened them again.

But this is new. She had been confused when he had ripped a long strip of fabric out of an old thermal of his. He had just tilted his helmet at her in that way that sends a skitter up her spine. He asked her if she trusts him, and she of course said yes. So she finds herself, vision darkened by the makeshift blindfold, running her fingers through Din’s hair as he smears a hot trail of kisses down her neck, caging her in against the wall.

She can’t help the light sighs that leave her lips. It feels like everything is just a notch more sensitive without her sight, like he’s everywhere. His scent, his touch, his mouth. She’s swallowed up in him and it’s unlike anything she’s felt before.

Suddenly, his lips pull away, and she feels his hand cup the arc of her jaw. Even behind the blindfold, she can feel his eyes on her.

“I’ve been wanting you like this for a while now, mesh’la. Will you let me have you?” His words are murmured across her lips, making her dizzy with the brushing warmth. She nods, but she knows him well enough to know he wants her words. She tentatively reaches her palms out, finding the sleek metal of his chest plate before slipping her hands up until she’s framing his scruffy jaw with her palms, feeling him out in the darkness.

“I want you too, Din. Want you like this, please.” He presses a firm kiss to her lips, but is gone in a flash, her neck craning as she tries to chase after his mouth in vain. She feels his palms slip down her arms before resting on her waist, his fingers skirting just below the hem of her shirt. He rasps out for her to lift her arms and she complies, goosebumps trailing up every newly bare inch of her skin as he peels her shirt off. She can’t help but gasp when the rough pads of his fingers skate over the tops of her breasts, tracing the line of her bra before tugging lightly at one of the straps.

“Can I take this off?” That’s different too. She’s never been with someone who asks like he does. She nods, letting her hands find his where they are on her body, guiding them back behind her to the clasp of her bra. His touch is feather light as the fabric falls falls away. She can just hear the sigh he lets out as he traces the swell of her breasts. When his mouth lays back over the line of her collarbone, she tenses in his hold and he stills.

“Relax for me, mesh’la. You trust me, don’t you?” His palms are roaming up and down her spine, warm and solid, lulling her into him.

“I do, I do trust you.” She can feel his smile against her skin and it makes her shiver.

“Will you let me make you feel good?” Her hand stills where it had been threading through his hair, worry creeping into her veins like ice. Din seems to notice it, pausing the ebbing tide of his palms.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” She lets out a sigh. She feels completely vulnerable in this moment, stuck in her swirling mind behind the darkness of the blindfold. But Din anchors her when he brings his hands to cup her jaw, holding her steady.

“It’s just– I haven’t– no one’s ever–”

“No one’s touched you before?”

“They have– I mean, there have been others before. But, it’s never been– good.” Din takes a sharp breath in, and she worries that she just ruined the whole thing, quickly trying to remedy the situation.

“It’s ok, though! I think there’s just something wrong– with me. But you don’t have to– I just want to be with you, Din. I don’t care about that.” Silence, deafening silence. Just when she’s starting to feel foolish, he breaks it.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” “Huh?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, cyar’ika. Tell me, have you touched yourself before?” The question makes her throat go dry, but she nods.

“And you’ve made yourself come?” The blush that had already started warming her now rages into a flash of heat.

“I-I have, yes.” Din sighs, the ragged sound shooting straight through her core. She feels him press his forehead to hers, his nose brushing along the arc of her own.

“Listen to me. There is nothing wrong with you. But there is something gravely wrong with whoever you’ve been with before that didn’t take the time to take care of you.” He presses a kiss to her forehead before continuing.

“It’s a shame for them. I bet you look so pretty when you come. And I intend to find out for myself.” Her breath catches at his words, and she lets slip a sigh of his name.

“Will you let me find out, cyar’ika? Find out how to make you feel good?” There’s a cocky edge to his words that’s making her thighs clench, her voice shaky when she answers him with a warbly yes. He lays a sweet kiss to her lips in response.

“I’m going to touch you, sweet girl. And I want you to tell me what you like and what you don’t, do you understand?” She nods, letting out a shaky breath at the confident tone of his voice. His touch disappears abruptly, and she nearly jumps at the sound of two dull metal thuds, only realizing that he’s gotten onto his knees when she feels his warm breath fan over her stomach. She reaches her hands out, finding purchase on the rounded plates of his shoulder armor as his own hands slide to the waist of her pants, coming to rest at the fastening.

“May I?” She doesn’t have to see him to know what he’s asking and she breathes out a yes, his fingers deftly undoing her pants before he slides them down her legs, guiding her to step out of them so that she is left before him in just her panties. His palms come to the swell of her thighs, roaming up and up until his fingers are brushing along the hem of her panties. She can’t help the gasp she lets out when she feels what she thinks is him nosing at the fabric covering her cunt. But when she hears the deep inhale he takes, she’s certain of what he’s doing, and it makes her scrape her fingernails along the cool sheen of his armor.

“Will you let me see all of you, mesh’la?”

“Yes, Din– I want you to– I want you.” And with that, the last scrap of fabric she had on is peeled off of her. It’s a dizzying notion, to be completely bare and blind, at the complete mercy of him. It sends a new kind of ache down her spine and straight through her core.

Din brings one hand to the back of her knee, coaxing it up to rest over his shoulder as he holds her against the wall with his other hand splayed over her hip. She can feel the tickle of his scruff on her inner thigh, his breath spanning over the open heat of her cunt. His lips press, open and warm, once, twice, to the softness of her thigh, before he’s dragging his mouth to where she most wants him, licking a salacious stripe through her folds that has her bucking in his hold with a harsh gasp. He chuckles.

“Sweet girl– sweet everywhere, aren’t you? Relax for me, let me open you up.” He speaks with his stubbled cheek pressed to the inside of her thigh, a sensation that in and of itself is making her mind go hazy. Without any more preamble, he’s diving back in, firming both his hands along the curve of her hips as he focuses on swirling his tongue over her clit. She’s biting her lip, moans thrumming in her throat as she tries to silence them, but Din isn’t satisfied with that.

“I want to hear you, cyar’ika. I need you to tell me how I’m doing for you, remember?” She sighs out a pitchy ok, but when he goes back to working her over, now suckling on that tangle of nerves, she couldn’t hold back her moans even if she tried.

“Oh– s’good– feels really good, Din–” a string of praises resounds in her moans as she fumbles to thread her fingers through his hair, eliciting a low groan from him when she tugs lightly as he continues to work her over with his tongue. What had started out as a methodical movement has devolved into a sloppy spread of him as he alternates between swiping over her clit and dipping his tongue into her entrance to drag her pooling slick back up. Her hips have started to cant up, meeting his mouth, taking whatever he’ll give her as she starts to feel pleasure stringing tight in her belly. He continues to mouth at her, and that pleasure becomes more frantic, something she’s chasing after, wanting more and more of.

“Please don’t stop– I think– I think I’m close– please, Din–”

“Tell me what you need, sweet girl. I’ll give it to you if you tell me.” His words smear across her cunt, the low thrum making her buck up in his grasp.

“I need more– please just– more–” her words are more of whine, but they quickly die in her throat when he returns to mouthing at her clit, now dipping one of his hands down to swirl a finger at her entrance before sinking it inside of her, crooking it just so to find that spot that has her buckling against the wall. He finds a perfect rhythm, swirling his tongue around her clit as he fucks her with his hand, quick to slip another finger in and create a stretch that burns just right. She can feel her hips starting to jerk at the deluge of pleasure, her moans becoming more like broken gasps.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Let me see you come undone. Take it– it’s all yours.” He crooks his fingers again in that dizzyingly delicious way and the pleasure finally snaps, her cunt spasming as she comes with a preening whine. He works her through the aftershocks until she starts to jerk away from the sensitivity, letting out a harsh sigh as he guides her leg off his shoulder and back down onto unsteady ground. She slumps back against the wall, chest heaving. He coaxes a sigh out of her when he presses a kiss to her hip, slowly rising as he drags his lips up the center of her stomach, between the valley of her breasts before stealing a demanding kiss from her.

“I was right. So beautiful when you come, cyar’ika. Now I’d like to see it again.” She has to breathe out a laugh at that, still catching her breath as his palms splay over her hips.

He got to see it again. And again. And again.

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handspunyarns · 3 months

Text

Wrote this bit of dialogue, no reason, not part of my current fiction, and I’m sure this scenario has already been written a gazillion times

OC: (waking up) …. What happened?

Din: You fell on the ice and knocked yourself unconscious. Unfortunately, it took a while for me to find you … you were deeply hypothermic.

OC: That doesnt explain why … it seems I’m in a sleeping bag.

Din: Well …

OC: And you’re in the sleeping bag with me.

Din: See …

OC: But behind me.

Din: I …

OC: And I’m naked.

Din: Yes, I …

OC: And so are you.

Din: (pause) Ah, you’re done. Body heat is the most efficient way to warm someone with hypothermia.

OC: Okay. So … this is a naked Grogu that is tucked in front of me?

Din: He wanted to help.

OC: Okay. So … is your helmet off?

Din: Yes.

OC: I thought you were not allowed to remove your helmet before others …

Din: I am behind you. And I trust you not to turn back.

OC: Din, I …

Din: Wearing the helmet while otherwise naked would be weird.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian angst #din djarin angst #mando angst #mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fluff #pedrostories #pedro stories #star wars fanfiction #starswarsficnetwork

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moon-sang · 2 years

Note

I’d like to place a request please. Din has been traveling with a force sensitive you. He has never been in love, but he’s pretty sure he is in love with you. To shy and uncertain to make a move. He visits his Covert and another Mando let’s say Paz is quite taken with you. He is assertive and flirtatious. You like the attention because at this point you don’t think Din has feelings for you, but you had feelings for him. Din sees Paz and you getting closer and finally does something about it. I do love a jealous Din. Thank you for your time and consideration. ❤️

You're Mine, I'm Yours

SUMMARY: Din Djarin has never been in love. Jealousy...was a new feeling for him. Especially when Paz would flirt with you.

WARNINGS: Jealous!Din, Flirting, mild touching, angst, fluff, mature language, Force-sensitive!Reader, pls tell me if I miss anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Din had never been in love.

He didn't know if it was Paz flirting with you, or the fact that you were flirting back, but jealousy was simmering deep in his bones.

It went from 0 to 100. From a few sweet fluffy jabs from Paz, to him absentmindedly rubbing the outside of your thigh - and Din couldn't stand it. He watched every rub of his thumb on your soft supple skin. Maker he should have told you to wear pants instead of that knee-high dress! Don't get him wrong, it was a beautiful dress, a dark navy blue with glistening sequences littered over it. It clung to your body and expressed your curves so perfectly. But Din didn't want anyone else to see it. You were only for his eyes. Din shook his head to rid the thought. You were flirting with Paz, it was clear you had no interest in him, besides you were a Jedi, he was pretty sure there was some code against relationships. The Mandalorian hated feeling possessive of you (of course he never acted on how he felt, he wanted you to have freedom). You deserved better than to have some perv Mandalorian fantasise about the two of you. He felt bad for thinking of you the way he did. Felt as if he were disgracing you. You fixed everything. Along with the child, you filled that empty void in his heart. You broke down the protective fence he built around his heart just by smiling. Was this normal? Was this what love felt like? Din thought to himself as he continued to stare at you and Paz from where he stood.

~~~~~~~~

This felt wrong. Paz touching you felt wrong. Even if it was just flirting. You liked to imagine it was Din’s hands there, not his, nonetheless you enjoyed the attention. Din had made it clear he didn’t have feelings for you, and that...was something you just had to get over, even if it hurt. “What’s on your mind mesh’la?” Paz whispers in your ear. You cringed at the nickname. Din’s voice sounded better when he called you that. Din was who you wanted. But for now....You were going to enjoy what Paz was offering you. “You.” You giggle. Paz responds with a deep throaty chuckle and wraps an arm around your neck.

That was Din’s breaking point.

~~~~~~~~

“We have to go.” Din states, suddenly in front of you and Paz. “Now? We just got here a few minutes ago.” You pout. “Yes. Greef wants me.” He lies. “Oh, well, she can stay with us, I don't think she wants to go.” Paz interrupts. Din menacingly turns his helmet to Paz, who’s arm was still wrapped around you. “I don’t think this concerns you.” Din cockily mocks him. And before anyone can reply, he’s yanking you up and practically dragging you out.

~~~~~~~~

“What the hell, Din!” You scold. “What was that?!” You yell. He remains silent, but his grip doesn’t loosen on your wrist. “Din!” You yell again, but to no avail. Your wrist was turning white from the harshness of his hold. “Din - stop!” You scream. “Din! You’re hurting me!” To this he freezes. He retracts his hand, as if being burnt. You hold your wrist gently in your free hand, and look at Din, your eyes, demanding answers from him. Din sighs. “I don’t want you to be-there...around...Paz.” He admits shyly. So that’s what this was about. You think. “Well you could have just told me that.” You whisper comfortingly. “No...it’s just I-Well-I don’t know how to explain it-”

“You’re jealous.” You state, more to yourself than him. Din remains silent, most likely slightly embarrassed. “But I thought-” You start. “I thought you didn’t like me.” You whisper, but of course he hears. “What?! Cyare, you mean so much to me.” You look up at him with hopeful eyes. “Really?” You ask, voice breathy. “Yes, ner kar’ta” He whisper, before placing his head on yours in a keldable kiss. Your eyes close in response to the cool surface of bezoar making contact to your head. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika.”

#Din Djarin x reader #Din x reader #Mando x reader #Mandalorian x reader #The Mandalorian x reader #Din Djarin x you #Mando x you #Din x you #Angst #The Mandalorian angst #Jealous!Din

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misspearly1 · 2 years

Text

Day Twenty-Six: Bath/Shower Sex - Din D'jarin.

Kinktober22 List

WC: 3.2k Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Mutual Pining. Smut. Unprotected PIV. Blindfolded sex in the bathtub. Fluff. AN: Ahh, this was enjoyable to write, so sweet and fluffy. Hope ya'll enjoy too ❤️.

Walking blindly, you hold your hands out with caution as you giggle a question to Din. “Where are you taking me?”

“I already told you, mesh’la. It’s a surprise.” He replies in a chuckle, the delicate sound of your own laughter drawing it out of him. Though, the moment of joy and amusement was short-lived as he panics and darts his hands out to stop you from tripping over. “Woah. Easy there, sweet girl.”

“Oh.” You make a surprise sound, hands clasping over the top of his laying around your front. A few lingering touches later, you pat his hand and then let go. “Thank you, my warrior.”

The sound that Din then makes sends a shiver down your spine, choking out a soft grunt, though distorted through the modulator of his helmet, it didn’t dampen how heavy and thick his voice sounded after you called him your warrior. He likes it, there’s no doubt about that, and even though you practically feel the blush in his words when brushing it off like no big deal, know that it is in fact, a big deal for him.

“I um.. I’m going to need your guidance.” Whispering bashfully upon feeling the emotional shift between you and Din, it’s like the air was now charged with electricity, just patiently waiting for its spark to ignite. It was a start when his hand lay on your hip with his deep, textured voice mumbling into your ear for you to keep walking straight ahead. He’s so close, you can feel the large steely presence of his beskar chest plate against your back as your fingertips drag along the walls on either side of you.

You trust Din, have trusted him for a long time now, and you feel safe enough to be vulnerable around him, to completely open up and fear no judgement in return. Though, you can only hope that one day he can feel the same. It’s a slow progress and you’ve come a long way together since the beginning considering that you both tried to kill each other when you first met, but the changes now are drastically better.

Din feels safe with you too, however you can’t say completely. The laws of his culture forbid him from removing his helmet and revealing his identity to you, but he has revealed almost everything else instead. He shared his name, his story and childhood, the most vulnerable parts of his mind in conversation and his love, though he tries to hide his love - just like he did moments ago - you feel it nonetheless and understand why he quite literally uses his armour to shield his emotions.

Fear of rejection isn’t impervious to even the greatest warriors of the universe as it seems, and Din hides behind the armour in some aspects, shielding himself and those emotions that he evidently feels for you. And you, too, have felt those doubts in your mind on many occasions now, have tricked yourself into believing that the man you have fallen for - hard, wouldn’t feel the same way.

However, there is a sense of power that comes with certainty; knowing that Din D’jarin feels the same way as you, gives you a sense of power and responsibility to act on it accordingly, to make the first move and banish those fears that every species feels or has felt at some point in their life, no matter how tough they are.

“Hold on, mesh’la.” Din whispers, snapping your attention back to reality as he leans into you and opens a door. You try your best to maintain the closeness, holding your hand atop his again, you deliberately walk slower and the action causes his chest to press up against your back. “Not long now, then you can remove the blindfold.” He chuckles softly, mistaking your purposeful movements for hesitancy and it makes you giggle at his innocent, oblivious nature for not noticing your true intentions.

Walking a few more steps, then waiting as another door opens, you are immediately struck in the face with steamy heat, your nose quickly filling with the scent of sweet passion fruit and honey. “Oh wow. Din, is this what I think it is?” You ask quickly, hoping that it’s exactly what you think it is.

“Yes, sweet girl. It is.” The man replies and you can feel the pride resonating from him. Joyous pride - all for you and the reaction he was searching for. Removing your blind fold, you nearly squeal at the sight of Din’s surprise. It’s just a bath, a simple hot bubbly bath, candles dotted around the tiled floor or lining the indentations in the wall, but it’s a bath that you have yearned to have for the last five months aboard the razor crest. It’s been too long since you’ve indulged within the comforts of hot soapy water instead of the cold steady spray of water inside the cramped fresher.

“You’re the best, Din D’jarin!” You turn to him with glee and close the gap to wrap your arms around his shoulders in an endearing hug. “This isn’t setting us back is it? We’ve been on a tight schedule lately.” Expressing your worrisome thoughts out loud, you hoped it wasn’t taking too much out of his time or his credits. Just looking at the state of the bathroom suggests that this hotel is on the higher end of the scale. You wouldn’t care if it was some lousy pit stop, it’s the thought that counts most. “Thank you, Din - thank you for doing this for me.”

“Cyar’ika.” Mando sighs, his breath laced with sincerity. Pulling back and holding his leather gloved hands to your sides, he tilts his helmet slightly while looking down into your big, bright doe eyes and feels his heart thrumming in his ears. “It’s quite alright, Y/N. There’s no need to thank me.” Anything for your happiness, sweet girl. He thinks with his inner voice instead.

Smiling behind the helmet although you can’t see it, Din hesitates on letting you go just yet and continues to maintain your gaze, however his body betrays him as he unknowingly begins squeezing your hips, the action making you gasp softly. “Well-” He clears his throat nervously then steps back, feeling like he had crossed a line just now. “Don’t let me get in the way, mesh’la.”

“Din - wait.” You dart your hand out to his shoulder pad before he can turn to leave and when he tilts his helmet towards you again, you look over your shoulder to the bath, then to the blindfold in your hand and finally, back into the T shape of his visor, your eyes pleading as you suggest to him. “Won't you stay with me? I can wear the blindfold and I won’t see anything and… and I - please?” You stutter.

Mando just stares at you, barely moving a muscle, and you can tell without even seeing his face that he is wearing an expression of shock behind the helmet. You can feel the disbelief reverberating from his body, the uncertainty of your request seeping into your skin, which makes you that much more determined to banish those fears and doubts he still clings onto.

“Hey listen, if you don’t want to, forget that I even asked.” You begin, speaking calmly and reassuringly as you give him more confirmation to appease his mind. “But, if you would like to stay, then I am telling you that it’s what I want too - I’d like you to stay and join me Mando.”

Din spent another moment in silence, his helmet tilted to the side as if in thought, and for a split second, you questioned your whole mind on whether or not your hunch was correct, until he then reassured you. Closing the gap and pulling you flush against his chest, he presses his visor against your forehead and releases a sigh of relief. “Yes - Cyar’ika yes, I’d like to stay…” He pauses, audibly gulping. “...And join you.”

Knowing that your reassurances would banish his fears, you didn’t predict that it would set the primal instincts within Din D’jarin free. Your confirmation wasn’t just what he needed to know that you feel the same way, it’s what he needed to hear in order to take control. The man turns you around slowly, then takes the blindfold from your hands to place over your eyes again and ties it at the back. Within seconds, he removes his helmet and instantly indulges what he has yearned to have for so long. A kiss.

“Oh.” You gasp upon feeling his lips placed against your ear. The contact was minimal and unexpected, but deeply satisfying, especially when he moves and you feel the tickle of his beard across your skin. Ducking his head down to reach your neck, you tilt your head to the side and provide more room, inviting him to explore more of your skin.

You couldn’t help but moan when lifting your hand and running your fingers through his hair, the images your mind were producing through sense of touch, painted you a beautiful picture of what he looks like. As Din’s arms wrapped around your stomach and kissed your neck plentiful, your head lolls back to his shoulder with the prettiest whimper. Your senses became overwhelmed in the very best way, overwhelmed and crowded with Din D’jarin.

“You smell really good.” You admit your thoughts aloud after taking in the heavenly scent of his skin. Mando smiles against your neck, nipping a path towards your jawline before cupping your cheek and tilting your face a breath away from his as he whispers in reply. “So do you, mesh’la. So sweet and tasty.” He growls, and the sound ignites that electrified air around you both; a clear understanding between you and Mando was ignited - a need to act out your desires and not just take a bath together.

It was really quite foolish of you to think that nothing sexual would come about from taking a bath together, but just hearing Din growl how sweet and tasty you smell set off all those desires you’ve dreamed about. Truthfully, you didn’t want to rush him in anyway, but as it seems, he is feeling the exact same way you are right now - horny. Soft moans escaped his lips, sounds that you didn’t think you’d ever hear from Din, but he produced them for you.

Carefully helping you to remove your clothes first, he walks you towards the bath then helps you climb inside. “One moment, mesh’la.” Din whispers and kisses your cheek once before pulling away. You hear him removing his armour, hear the metal gently being placed to the tiled floor.

He’s always so gentle, takes pride in his armour. You smile with your thoughts, then feel around the tub carefully to readjust your position. Jolting when you feel the pad of his fingertips touch your shoulder, he apologises for startling you, then you shake your head at him, laughing. “It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Reaching out for his hand, he sees what you’re trying to do and meets you halfway. Once you hold him, you tug lightly as a gesture for him to get in the tub with you, which he does. Din moves carefully to climb into the water in front of you, sighing heavily from the heat enveloping him. “Good, right?” You ask upon hearing his satisfaction.

Leaning forward, your hands running up the expanse of his arms, your mouth falls open when feeling his muscles beneath your fingers. Din breathes a heavy wanton breath as you explore his skin through touch, dragging your nimble fingers across his chest and shoulders delicately. You lean in a little closer and he, once again, meets you halfway in closing the gap.

“Oh.” He moans, really moans, when your lips connect. Just a few hesitant pecks at first, until you tilt your head to the side and part your lips. Then Din deepens the kiss. Slipping his tongue inside first, you moan now and respond while tangling your tongue with his, though you couldn’t help but want more.

Moving closer and closer towards him until your chest was flush against his, you whimper from the sensation of your pert nipples grazing across his chest. Your sounds and reactions work effectively in giving Din more confidence to take the lead. His hands wrap around your back first, then lower your ass before pulling your lower half into him, which is where you both make a delighted sound from the contact.

“Din.” You whisper, a plea evident in your tone as you not-so-gently grab onto his shoulders. The man picks up on your need instantly, he needs it too and wastes no more time providing. “I got you, sweet girl.” He reassures and warns before hooking your leg over his arm. Holding a flat palm over your lower back to keep you balanced, you feel that both his hands are preoccupied and lower your hands to help line him up.

“Oh wow.” You gasp when feeling the sheer length and girth of him. Din gasps too, enjoying the way you explored the size of his cock with your hands. Wrapping your fingers around him, you stroke him a couple times and audibly sigh upon feeling his cock grow. He wasn’t even fully hard?! You panic slightly inside, underestimating just how big he really is.

Groaning your name, Din rests his forehead to your shoulder as you continue to pump him, the sound of him so broken and desperate stops your actions before you notch the tip at your entrance. “Take your time.” You ask, though you don’t really have to, you know that he will no matter what. It’s just that it’s been a long while since you last had sex and you didn’t think Mando was as big as he is.

“Of course, mesh’la - always.” Din nods, then kisses your lips as he carefully pushes forward. You couldn’t stop the mewls even if you tried, the stretch was impressive and pleasurable. Unintentionally digging your nails into the scruff of his neck, you cling onto the man and groan pathetically for him to keep going after relaxing around him. “Oh fuck.” He grunts when bottoming out inside, feeling your heat already pulsing around him.

“Mando.” You plead again, resting your forehead to his. “Please move.”

“Hold onto me.” He requests before dropping his hand from your back. Doing as he says, you gasp when feeling him hook his arm under your other leg and lift you from the water. You felt weightless, like a feather held in his mighty strong arms. “Tell me to slow down.” He grunts before finally moving. You appreciate him telling you that, but you seriously doubt that you will ask him to slow down, especially when he starts off so slow and gentle like.

“That feels so good.” You moan, brows pulling together with the blissful sensation of his cock rubbing against your walls. You savour the feeling of every vein and ridge. Leaning in and blindly finding his lips again, you kiss him fervently, a wordless gesture that signals him to pick up the pace if he wants to, which he does.

“Stars!” Mando chokes, feeling his balls press against your cheeks each time he thrusts forward. “You’re so warm, cyar’ika. I’ve dreamt of this… dreamt of this every night when I fuck my fist.” He admits and it makes you clench around him. Just picturing Din with his hand wrapped around his cock within the privacy of his own bunk made you mewl, but hearing him admit it in such a foul mouthed way made your whole body quiver.

As his pace gradually picks up, you hear the water sloshing around the tub vigorously, feel his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust and cry from the added stimulation to your clit from the hairs on his mound. You didn’t have to see in order to know that Mando was grunting hard through gritted teeth, you could just hear it in his voice, picturing a beautiful image in your mind of the blissed-out expression on his face. Someday, you tell yourself with hope, someday I will see that blissed-out expression with my own eyes.

Burying your face into his neck, you place lazy kisses to his skin and groan loud enough to warn him that you’re close. “It’s okay, mesh’la. I got you, it’s okay.” He heaves a heavy praise, pushing you over the edge within seconds.

“Mando!” You gasp suddenly upon feeling the peak of your orgasm washing over your body and mind. Curling your toes and tensing your muscles, you feel the heated pleasure ripple across your abdomen and chest, even making your ears ring as you become lightheaded. You could feel it from Din too. He was burning hot to the touch, breathing raggedly and his thighs shook moments before he yelled in a panic. “Where? Cyar’ika where?”

“I-Inside.” You blurt in the heat of the moment. It’s reckless, but you want it so fucking badly, have day-dreamed of carrying his babies and considering he is even asking, you know that he wants it too. Crying out with each last few pounding thrusts into your cunt, Din buries himself deep and releases ropes upon ropes of his creamy seed inside.

He, too, buries his face into your neck, muffling the sounds of his raspy broken moans as he rides out his high. You can feel him spilling inside of you, can feel his warmth coating your walls and spreading everywhere, as if pumping you full. The sensation was worthy of another orgasm. Grinding against him and stimulating your clit, you shudder in his arms and squeeze around him, drawing out every last drop he could give.

“Fuck! Y/N.” Mando grunts sharply. Shaking his head into your neck and holding you still, you feel him smiling against your skin as he mumbles ‘sensitive’. Oddly, a part of you wanted to disobey him and continue grinding, to hear him gasp and whine from too much pleasure, however you held back on that for now and nodded into his neck. “Ok, my handsome warrior.”

“And how would you know that?” He pulls his head away from your neck, chuckling softly as you giggle. Shrugging, you shake your head and whisper. “I don’t have to see you to know you’re handsome, Din. Men like you are beautiful inside and out, I just know it.” Cupping his cheeks with both hands, you rub your thumbs under his eyes then trace the shape of his nose with a smile. “See? Beautiful, what did I tell you.”

Though you couldn’t see his smile, you could feel his growing against your hands and it was infectious too, making you smile with him. Carefully shifting his position, Mando sits down properly in the tub and leans back, still buried inside of you as you sit on his lap. “Keep doing that.” He asks, and when you tilt your head, confused, he elaborates. “Exploring with your hands. I like it, cyar’ika.”

“Oh, my pleasure.” You laugh bashfully, then continue touching him, detailing how beautiful he feels and why. You learned even more about Mando in this little moment, learned that he loved the way you caressed his earlobes so delicately, making him sigh with peace. He then later returned the gesture, pointing out all of your beauties - even things you didn’t think he’d find beautiful - that made your cheeks bloom a pretty pink in colour from his compliments.

You admired Mando behind the blindfold, and he admired you with his eyes - the woman he plans to marry.

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dilf-din · 1 year

Text

The Betrayal

WC: 800

Rating: T

Summary: mandalorian!reader watches as Din is taken by Moff Gideon

Warnings: canon typical violence, death, ANGST, chapter 23 spoilers for the Mandalorian

Shots rang overhead. The sound of beskar on beskar making your ears ring. Your whole party was pinned down by blaster fire. You stood strong in front of Grogu, caught in hand to hand combat with whatever new breed of trooper had just ambushed your search party, stabbing him in the neck with a vibroblade and watching him crumble. You didn’t know how long you would be able to hold them off. Already outnumbered with more waves on the way, you were sure of it. Minutes felt like hours when you could deal little to no damage to a body so well protected. Your eyes scanned for Din, seeing him take out trooper after trooper.

Bo-Katan’s voice rang over the noise calling your party further into the cave. You urged the IG unit to follow covering it with a blaster knowing it was doing little to no good. You had lost sight of Din in the chaos. Your chest tight as you scanned the bodies for that gleam of silver.

Of course he had was leading the pack, reckless but in control as ever. Until he wasn’t. You heard the bay doors closing and your blood ran cold. There he was. On the other side. Alone. The mandalorians that had charged forward with him cut down in an instant.

You launched your body into the thick glass knowing good and well it wouldn’t produce a scratch. His name shrieked from your lungs as you watched him get overpowered. Paz’s hand on your shoulder silently urged you to take a breath. Your heart thrummed in your ears echoing off of the helmet around you. How could you breathe when the one who makes it possible was standing out of your reach with a gun to his head.

The sound of Moff Gideon’s voice brought you back down to earth, or rather, Mandalore. He spoke of purging your people, and the blood that was running like ice in your veins was closer to boiling. You pushed IG-12 further into the shadows, blocking his body with yours once again. You would do anything to keep Grogu out of his sight. He had one member of your clan in his clutches, and that was enough. You rolled your neck getting ready to rain hellfire on him for the last time.

Bo-Katan rushed to the back of the pack and started to cut an opening in the thick steel doors using the dark saber. Grogu watched intently, his brown eyes reflecting the white hot blade. Gideon’s speech rang on about how he had invaded your planet, stolen your resources, killed your people. Your hand itching to grab your blaster and silence him once and for all. The vengeance for what he had done to Grogu, what he attempted to do to Din, the satisfaction of your hands being the reason he drew his last breath making you blind with anger.

But then he placed his own counterfeit helmet on his head and flew off into the distance. The troopers holding Din down now dragging him out of your sight as he thrashed with every ounce of strength he had. The bay doors opened once more as Paz now led the attack gunning down the entire squadron with ease. You rushed to the front to cover him with your own blasters while the rest of your party filed single file through the escape route that Bo-Katan had opened up.

“We’re clear, fall back!” she yelled as the last members filed back into the hall. Your presence fell deeper into the hanger, your hand on his shoulder willing him to follow, but he stood strong.

“We’re not leaving you behind!” she yelled.

“Go, there are too many,” he yelled back, voice even, you could tell his mind was made up.

“Suum ca’nara, ner ori’vod,” you whispered through tears, slowly pulling your hand off of his shoulder.

“This is the way,” he said resolutely, slamming the button to the bay doors one last time, locking you and Bo in safety.

“No!” she lunged forward. You both stood in a heavy silence before you nodded your head towards the opening. She reluctantly followed, knowing he would die with honor.

As you snaked your way through the roughly hewn hole, you thought of Ragnar. Every shot you fired from now on would be for him. Every blow you dealt. Every swish of your blade. For him, for Grogu, and for all the other foundlings subject to exist in a world with so much vile hatred for their kind.

Tears stung your eyes as you tried to center your mind on the only thing that mattered: getting Din home.

Mando’a translations

Suum ca’nara: rest peacefully

Ner ori’vod: my older brother, trusted friend

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian angst #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian spoilers #paz vizsla #the mandalorian drabble #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you

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manhandlememando · 11 months

Text

Gravity Ch. 6

din djarin x f!reader

TW: MDNI: smut, oral (f! receiving), fingering, *slight*dirty talk, language, violence, SA mentions (barely any description of the act itself but it is a topic discussed in this story multiple times), PTSD, nightmares, angsty!Din, the Razor Crest lives, written in 3rd person POV (she/her descriptors)

MDNI warning: this story contains content not suitable for people under the age of 18, please refrain from reading my content if you are underage. Any underage blogs or ageless blogs that interact with this post will be blocked. Stay safe :)

word count: 7,370 (I went a lil overboard lmao, but it’s wicked good)

(series is ongoing)

“Close your eyes,” he managed to speak after a moment of not being able to breathe.

“Din - ,” she begins to question, but he just pushes the pad of his thumb into her mouth. Just the tip of it sliding between her lips and it quieted her in an instant.

“Close… your… eyes,” he requests again, but this time with more stability in his tone. Drawing the short sentence out with small pauses between the words, accentuating each one. Letting go of a breath she didn’t know she was holding she lets her eyelids fall closed. She feels the warmth of his hand leave her face and her bottom lip pouts a little at the loss of contact. Suddenly there’s a sharp hiss and immediately she knows the sound, Din was taking off his helmet. The significance of the situation became tenfold at the thought of him baring his face to her, if not visually but physically. Her breath shook with each passing second as he took her hands and placed them on either sides of his face, caressing the sparse beard along his jaw. Running her finger along the jawline she feels a bald patch and lightly presses her thumb to it. Tracing it slowly as a small smile creeps onto her face, it’s in the shape of a heart.

“What’re you smiling about?” Din asks in a joking tone, however some worry lies below the surface as insecurity breaks through. She doesn’t answer for a minute as she continues to trace his face, the beauty of it striking her once more as she feels the curve of his nose, strong brow, and gorgeous pouted lips.

“You’re so handsome, Din,” she responds lightly, not wanting to scare him off with too much praise. She could barely contain herself as she ran her fingers over the canvas of him, his skin as warm as it looks and so much softer than she thought. He grew hotter to the touch at each passing moment, barely being able to think, all he could do was try to contain himself from enveloping her completely within him. He moved even closer to her and she could feel the soft movement of his breath touching her face. Taking her hands from his frame, he held one as he placed his lips just centimeters from hers. She froze not wanting to move, not wanting this moment to stop for anything as he speaks once again, his lips barely grazing hers as he does so.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and gently kisses her to conclude his gratitude. All of time and space stops around them, she can’t move for a moment, turned to stone in the face of raw tenderness. Sensing her hesitation he begins to lighten the pressure of his lips on hers, but as he does she melts into him. Her whole frame pliable in his grasp, lips molding to his slowly, at his will in every sense. Having cupped her hands to his cheeks again she pulls him in deeper and begins to quicken the kiss into something more desperate. With her eyes still closed and kissing him, Din stands slowly, breaking the kiss as he does. She doesn’t open her eyes but her brows knit in confusion over them. Just as quickly as his lips left hers his hand found purchase under her jaw, tilting her beautiful face up towards him and guiding her to her feet by her chin. Her breath shakes in anticipation, the blindness causing her to be more aroused than she thought it would, the idea of one of her senses being at his disposal causing heat to pool in the haven between her thighs. Suddenly she is engulfed by him as he loses control just a little bit, pushing her up onto the control panels as his lips slot over hers again, her hands finding purchase in his hair as her legs hooked up onto his waist. Still cradling her jaw in one of his large hands he tilts her head to the side and brushes his soft lips over that small space between her shoulder and her neck. He hums in contentment at the sweet taste of her skin, exactly how he had imagined it. Soft moans begin to fall from her lips and Din almost chokes at the sound, having thought of that sound so many times before as he tried to conjure it in his mind late at night. But now it was at his fingertips, keening her chest into his as he continues to place open mouthed kisses up the column of her neck. Gliding his fingertips down her arm he grabs her wrist and pins it behind her back as he leans her backwards into the controls, not caring which buttons were being pressed. Her breath hitches in her throat and Din can barely think as he can hear it begin to quicken, groaning as he grinds his now growing erection into her, the hard length running up the expanse of her inner thigh.

“Stop, stop… I can’t breathe!” She suddenly, shouts as she pushes him off of her. Her eyes are still closed, but her face was contorted in stress and he knew that if he could see her eyes they would be riddled with fear. His confusion clouded his thoughts for a moment as he gathered himself, trying to assess what he had done wrong to cause her so much distress. The realization hit him with the force of a N-1 Naboo Starfighter coming out of hyperdrive, as most realizations did. Din cursed at himself for being so ignorant that for a moment he only saw her desires as something for him to take, when they should be cherished instead. Feeling a sudden pain of guilt in realizing he also shouldn’t have pressured her into this kind of position with what she’s just been through.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. What can I do? What do you need? I’m so sorry cyare. Maker, I’m an idiot!” Din rambles, stepping forward hesitantly trying not to startle her away from him. She puts her hands up having heard him shuffle forward, keeping her chin tucked as she shielded him from the tear lined eyes, breathing heavily as she tries to gather herself before speaking.

“No, I - it’s okay. I just need time,” she says, still a little breathless but coming back to herself somewhat. Shaking her head she lifts her face to him and wipes her cheeks quickly, eyes closed again. She can’t see but his heavy brow knits itself together in anguish at the notion that he had made her cry, his bottom lip trembling and voice breaking as he speaks.

“Cyare… of course, all the time you need, anything you want,” he says and all he wants to do is hold her once again, becoming akin to the feeling of her skin to his. Din was always most at peace with her in his arms, finding solace in the dark of their sleeping courters the past couple of nights. The gravitas of her was forceful enough to disrupt the trajectory of a Mandalorian, and Din was starting to realize he didn’t want it any other way. A small smile creeps upon her lips at his words.

“Can we go to bed?” She asks him, reaching out wanting him again, her haven dawned in beskar. Din leans in to her touch, savoring the feeling of her fingertips gliding across his beard but wishing he could see those lovely eyes while also being able to feel her warm skin on his. She drags her thumb lightly up his jaw until it lands hesitantly over his lips, and she can’t see it but she feels the small smile that has crept onto his lips as he lays a kiss there.

“Elek, vor entye,” Din spoke in Mandalorian, and chuckled at the way her eyebrows cocked into a comical arch of confusion. “Yes, thank you,” Din translates for her.

“For what?” She asks, wrapping her arms around his neck as she opened her body to him again, letting him into her orbit, pulling him into the only thing that felt like home.

“For allowing me to share your bed again,” he whispers as he ducks his head down and brushes his lips to hers before connecting them fully. He doesn’t press forward this time, or move at all for that matter. Terrified he may cause her any type of stress or panic, he waited for her to move or escalate the situation to her liking. To his surprise she leaned in as she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, placing one hand at the back of his head and running her hands through the dark locks. She breaks the kiss after several heated seconds pushing on his chest tenderly, moving him off of her much more gently then earlier in the evening.

“Can you bring me to bed, Din Djarin? If you’d let me, I’d love to fall asleep feeling you,” she whispers the last part, making Dins mouth fall agape. He was incredibly glad in that moment she couldn’t open her eyes or she would have seen the very rapidly reappearing erection in his flight suite. Without a word he grabs her hand and brings her to his sleeping chambers, allowing her time to bathe and change as he set an autopilot course to the station port they were in search of. He had calmed down considerably by the time he returned to his room, although when he saw her laying in his bed in only another thin tank top and panties, the bubble of arousal began in his lower abdomen again. He shed his armor slowly, trying to gain his composure before changing and slipping into bed with her. The fresh scent of the soap she uses radiating off of her and he wanted so desperately to press his nose into her neck and just inhale. In that moment, he realized… he could, so, he did. Smiling as he delved his nose into the junction of her neck and shoulder and breathing in deeply. She lets out a sharp burst of laughter at his sudden movements, surprised at his actions but thankful for the intimacy and appreciation nonetheless.

“Vor entye,” she giggles and Din swears his world stops for just a second, not being able to have seen that coming for miles. His heart clenches at the sound of his language falling from those supple lips. (translation: thank you)

“Darasuum,” he replies quietly, trying desperately to not have his voice betray the significance of the moment for him. (translation: always/ eternally)

She drifts to sleep with the weight of him keeping her grounded, her fingers tracing that small heart made by the bald patch on the side of his chin, with only her dreams floating off into the Milky Way.

——————————

“I’ll come with you,” she speaks hastily, trying to get his attention as he gathers his weapons from the hull of the great ship.

They had just docked it in one of the ports on Glavis, the man-made circular ring that made home to traders and business associates alike. Din knew that the certain Mandalorian that he was searching for, who he had referred to as The Armourer, had begun a new convert on the underbelly of the metal ring. He needed to find them again to receive instructions and to present The Armourer with the Dark saber, something Din never discussed and seemed made uncomfortable by. But first he had to complete a mission, sent to find a certain bounty on Glavis in order to receive directions to the convert.

“No,” he said flatly, the gravel of the modulator making his tone seem a little more malicious than it was meant to. “I can do it myself, I’m fine,” he exclaimed, raising a palm to face her in a dismissive action.

“No, no you’re not! Din you were shot, badly. Let me do this one, or at least let me help, please,” she pleads with him, reaching towards him and placing her palms to cup the cheeks of his helmet.

“Let me,” she says, but this time it’s a demand and he knows now that she wasn’t going to give him another option.

“Fine, but you stay behind me the entire time,” he says gruffly, not sure of how this bounty mission would go. Din doesn’t allow her any time to counter him with another argument as he hands her some weapons from the artillery storage.

“Go get ready,” he says and with a sharp turn he exits the hull of the ship.

—————————

She stood outside the butcher shop with the solid weight of unease beginning to set in the pit of her stomach. Not wanting to leave him alone on this hunt because of his injury, she was now regretting agreeing to hang back during it. But he left her no choice, he wouldn’t let her. It was almost this innate thing between them, this understanding that they would do anything for each other, death not even being the darkest of requests.

When she began to hear clamoring within the butcher shop walls, she tensed and leaned forward around the corner to peer through the thick sheets of plastic separating the rooms. She moves through the plastic quickly the second she hears his cry of pain, a short-clipped roar of agony. Her heart froze in her chest for just a second, swearing to Maker that her whole body ceased to function at the thought of him leaving her alone in the universe. As she pushes through the crowd of dog-like beings she can hear his growing grunts of strain, and then she sees it. The glowing light of the Dark saber radiated through another wall of the thick plastic curtains, and with a final roar he seems to bring the sword down onto something. In that cry she can hear more than just his tangible pain, she can hear his rage, his emotional hurt. Moments later Din emerges holding a small canvas sack, which she knew contained the head of the bounty they had been looking for. His visor turns to her for just a moment and she furrows her brow in concern at the way he’s holding himself, leaning his entire body weight onto one leg. He then turns to the rest of the group, all of them left silent at the sight of their employers head in a bag.

“There is a great amount of credits left within that office that I am not entitled to. If you will let me pass you can have full reign of whatever remains from your former boss’ riches.” Din announced and there was a slight pause amongst the group but only until one moved and then suddenly all of them were clamoring towards the door behind Din. Taking several steps through the crowd towards her, she notices he is still favoring one leg so she moves towards him and almost instinctively he fell into her frame. With a grunt she moves his arm to encircle her shoulders, allowing him to put his full body-weight onto her.

"Din, what -," she begins to question but he cut her off.

"I told you to stay put," his tone was menacing and it stung slightly.

"I know, but -," she starts to offer an explanation but Din was in too much pain to argue with her. A sharp hiss of pain from behind his helmet causes her to halt her movements as well as the conversation.

"No keep moving we need to deliver the bounty in order to receive the location of the convert. We can't lose time, especially now. The convert will have bacta spray to provide for the wound, but we need to get there quickly," he explains, sounding breathless through the modulator, and she begins walking again, Din in tow.

—————————

Din can barely breathe, but not because of the physical pain in his side and upper leg. No, because the Armourer was standing before him ordering him to leave the only family he's ever known.

"Leave, apostate," Paz Vizla sneers from his position on the floor, Din being the one who put him there in the first place. The words rattle in Dins brain, echoing within his mind; "Then you are a Mandalorian no more."

"Please, tell me how I can atone. I'll do anything, please," Din begs, knowing the answer he will be receiving will not be an easy task.

"In order for one to redeem themselves in Mandalorian culture, they must bathe in the Living Waters beneath the mines of Mandalore," The Armourer responds flatly, and Din's breathing faltered once again.

"But the mines were all destroyed in the Great Purge," he says, his voice much weaker now, wavering even.

"This is the Way," is the only thing The Armourer says in response to Din before she goes silent. Din knows he must leave, so he slowly ascends the metal stairs and gathers his things. Leaving the makeshift convert knowing he would never be able to return again, Din realized that he has never felt more lost and alone than in this moment right now. He ascends the vertical stairs once again to the world above the substrata. His leg was feeling much better than before but his whole body had gone numb, not allowing whatever ache was leftover to plague him. As he travels back to where he had left her in the side streets of Glavis, he looks at the small pouch containing the gift for Grogu that The Armourer had forged wondering how he must be fairing on the planet Ossus with the Jedi, Luke Skywalker. When he appears through the doors he barely has a second to register anything before warmth has engulfed him. She ran towards him, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight embrace, not having known if she would see him again. Before entering the convert he had instructed her to stay put once again as The Armourer wouldn't appreciate an outsider seeing the well-hidden convert. He had also mentioned that he didn't know when he would appear again, explaining that if they needed him for rebuilding he may not come back. In which case she would then take the ship and continue completing bounties until he could join her once more.

She's so ecstatic that he had returned so soon that she didn't stop to think of why. It was only when he didn't embrace her back, he just stood there stunned and unmoving. Pulling away from him slowly she places both hands on either side of his helm, trying to look into his eyes which she knew were staring straight back.

"Din...?" Her voice is light in questioning, her eyes holding as much care and concern as her tone. She hears him sigh through the modulator in the helmet and knew he was trying to figure out a way to say what he needed. He looked down quickly at a small pouch he held in his hand before looking back up at her and stuffing it in his side pocket.

"I - I... I can't," he stumbles over the words and the sentence ends in defeat as he knows they need to return to the ship, he would be able to explain everything to her once they got back.

"Ok, you don't have to," she says back softly, as if not to startle him. He nods slowly in response because he can't trust himself to not break apart this instant if he allows himself any bandwidth of emotion. She takes his gloved hand in hers and begins to slowly lead them back to the Razor Crest.

She doesn’t push him to speak, knowing it will only result in more silence. So she goes about the normal take-off routine when they arrive back at the Razor Crest, prepping the engines and setting the directive map up for Din to choose the location of their next stop. During this time Din has disappeared into his chambers, not making any noise and causing a great deal of unease to settle around her frame. What had happened to make him react this way? She thinks to herself and in a blind search for answers she thinks back to how he had reacted to her shutting herself away after the assault. Din had given her space, understanding that she needed some time from what had just happened, but she was also sure that he must have felt the exact same as she’s feeling now. As if the ground has moved out from under her, and she’s not just emotionally uneasy, but physically not stable. Her center of gravity feeling unmoored as he locks himself away from her.

Hours having passed now and they still haven’t left the port on Glavis because she was intent on letting him choose their next destination. However, Din failed to reappear even hours later and she was beginning to become restless sitting in the cockpit alone. She stands from the pilots seat and makes her way to his courters with a plan to ask him for a location so they could at least leave this awful port soon. Stopping just about a foot from his door she reaches out and knocks lightly, waiting to hear something but she doesn’t. It is completely quiet, not even a shuffle of movement can be heard beyond the threshold.

“Din?” She questions just loud enough for him to hear her as she knocks once again. It takes several moments but then she hears it, the shuffling of feet, the click of the door opening. Slowly he pulls back the door to reveal his frame no longer clad in beskar but just his normal flight suit with his helm still in place. He says nothing, just stands with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I was just wondering where you’d want to go next? I felt it only appropriate to give you the choice since it is your ship,” she says, the uneasy feeling only settling deeper in her stomach as he doesn’t respond but just walks right past her through the doorway. Her brow knits itself together in concern as she follows him up to the cockpit. When she appears in the cockpit she sees he has set their destination to a planet quite far from their current location. Ossus, the planet that Grogu now calls home, she thinks to herself.

“Ossus? But why would we be going to visit him?” She looks at Din in confusion as he sets the course and begins to move out of the room, grabbing his arm as he tries to move around her and out the door. “Din, please,” the look in her eyes pleading with him to tell her anything, or just give her some context of what in Maker’s name is going on. He doesn’t respond verbally but instead takes his arm from her grasp and reaches his hand into his pocket and takes out the small package he had placed in it earlier. Dropping it into her open palms he turns to walk back to his room, but she stops him.

“Don’t, just… leave me be,” Din says to her before she can speak, but as the words fall from his lips he sees her facial expression fall and the hurt in her eyes as he pushes her away, more than he already has in the last few hours. He instantly regrets it but he knows back-peddling now would be useless, he’s already done some damage.

“Ok,” she responds dejected and watches as he disappears into the vastness of the ship. She looks down at the small cloth package in her hand and was surprised at the weight of it for the size that it was. As she opens the small pouch she sees the glint of beskar shining back up at her, pulling it up she spreads it apart to see what it is.

Displayed in front of her was a small chain-link shirt, the perfect size for the small child. His first piece of armor, she thinks and smiles at that beautiful thought.

—————————

She lays alone in her cot, curling in on herself as she feels the emptiness seep into the space around her body. He filled that space for the past week, his body encasing hers in a warmth she hadn’t experienced before. Even when he was half dead on Sorgan, his presence while she slept seemed to bring her a peace unlike she ever knew. It felt as though he had made a home in her bones and his presence filled that home with a warmth that only he possessed. Her anxiety from the day isn’t allowing her to slip into sleep like she so desperately wants too as thoughts of Din plague her mind. Eventually sleep overtakes her but the peaceful sleep she was hoping for did not bless her that night.

Upon opening her eyes again, she’s back in that dark alley behind the cantina. Each time the dream reoccurs her assailant makes it even farther into succeeding at his goal, and each time she becomes more weak in her attempts to fight him off. Her limbs getting heavy the harder she strains against him, the paralyzing fear of realizing she’s lost control. Screaming to no end, into a night that doesn’t exist anywhere outside of her head now. Her voice goes raw, she can hear it as she continues to yell and shriek as loud as she can.

“Cyar’ika,” she hears it, but it’s not coming from Alec, it came from around her. The sound seeming to be only heard by her as Alec didn’t stop his actions. She hears her name then, coming from all around her, repeating itself over and over and suddenly she knows that voice. (translation: sweetheart)

Din.

She awakes with a gasp of air, tears streaming down her face, mid-sob as she clutches to Din. It got bad this time, she did her best to reassure herself it wasn’t real, it was just the dream. But it was real, it did happen and the dreams were her constant reminder of that. The images crossing her mind again and again as Din continues to run slow circles into her temples with his thumbs.

“Cyare, breathe. Look at me,” Din instructed calmly, trying to get her to focus on what her eyes were actually perceiving. Her brain began to take in his form slowly, and when she did she realized he had only boxers and his helm adorning his perfectly sculpted body. Trying to steady her breathing became just a little bit harder as she took in his bare form. The whiplash of emotions made her dizzy and she closed her eyes in order to focus again.

Din repeats her name again, still calm but let’s out a small sigh when she closes her eyes once more.

“Look at me, please. It’s me, Din. I’m here, you’re safe, you’re okay,” He continues to soothe her, and she slowly opens her eyes again now having gained slightly more composure she focuses solely on the T in his visor. Din could see she was coming back to herself, resurfacing into the reality they were currently in.

“There she is, ner kar’ta,” he smiles softly at her, she returns the smile as best she can and he knows she’s come back to him. She then moves quicker than expected and practically knocks him to the floor as she crawls into Dins lap in an effort to be held by the only person in the whole universe that could affect her this way. Shift her whole world, her own center of gravity completely decimated by him alone. (translation: my heart)

Somewhat startled by her sudden movement he takes a second to completely envelope her in an embrace, holding her body as close to his as possible. She had stopped sobbing, the tears having subsided altogether but her cheeks remained damp and red. Her eyes swollen and her voice barely there when she speaks.

“It was really bad this time,” she whispers after several moments of them staying like that. Din’s stomach turns at the thought and his only desire is to make it all go away for her, to make it disappear into the infinite vastness of space and never haunt her again.

“I’m sorry, so so sorry cyare,” Din whispers back, placing the curve of his helm to her temple. She looks at him in pure confusion at this remark.

“For what? You woke me up, if anything I should be thanking you,” her voice still hoarse but gaining a little more volume. He shook his head as he cast his gaze downwards, not knowing how to tell her something he couldn’t even face himself yet. Feeling as though an explanation was being prepared in his silence she went back to admiring the frame of the lovely man cradling her in his large arms.

“I’m sorry for… for not being here,” he struggles to find the words, but she’s still doesn’t understand so he continues in his explanation.

“You haven’t had a nightmare since we started to share our chambers at night. I- I shouldn’t have shut myself away, I should’ve been here tonight,” he sighs solemnly, blaming himself yet again for an incident that quite literally has nothing to do with him. Yet, he carries so much guilt about it.

“It’s okay, Din. You asked for space so I gave you it, this isn’t your fault,” she looks up to his visor to meet his eyes behind the helm. They stay like this for a moment, just looking at one another, and even though she can’t see those chocolate pools of color she knows they’re staring right back. It was then that Din moved slightly, trying to shift her weight off of him.

“I’ll be right back, not even leaving the room,” he chuckles as her expression turns to a pout when he stands and walks away from the bed. He then turns the lights off in the small sleeping courters, leaving them in darkness. She sits patiently on the cold floor waiting for him to return and fill her with that familiar warmth, but then she hears the small hiss of his helmet being removed and she draws in a small gasp. He was completely bare now besides the black boxers covering his wide hips and mid-region. However she couldn’t see him, nor would she ever try, feeling him was more than enough for her to be satiated with. Her eyes take a minute to adjust in the blackness but she can see a slight outline of his broad frame coming slowly towards her. Din stops only inches before her, taking her hand in his and guiding her to sit up on the cot. Din then kneels before her and without words he leads that same hand to place her thumb once again upon his lips, kissing it lightly.

“Nothing, and I mean nothing will hurt you again. Least of all, me. The day I bring tears to those eyes out of pain is the day I lose myself completely, because my truest form is found in loving you.” Din whispers this confession into her palm as he moved down her hand, kissing every inch of skin as he spoke. He finalized the sentence with a kiss to her palm, which he then brought to his cheek to rest his head in. She does feel tears begin to prick at the edges of her eyes, daring to fall, but not out of pain. Her breathing faltered as he admitted to loving her, because she didn’t realize how long she had waited to hear those words be reciprocated to her.

“Din,” she speaks somewhat breathless and voice shaking with overwhelming love. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” she says it so quietly, somewhat broken as her Mando’a was still choppy at best. But he heard it, and she could feel his breath hitch in his throat when he did. Not having known she knew that much of his mother tongue, and being stunned by her confession as well. (translation: I love you/ direct translation: I will know you forever)

“Darasuum,” he responds and in seconds his hands are cradling her face as he brings his lips to hers. This time however he is much softer, touching her as if she was made of glass. Her hands find themselves weaving into his soft, curly hair. Holding him to her as she begins to pull back but does not separate the kiss. Instead, she holds him to her lips and brings him to sit up between her legs. Throwing his toned arms around her waist Din splays his hands over her back, cradling her to him as he kisses back eagerly. He begins to move slowly down her jaw until stopping suddenly, raising his head to look at her. (translation: always/eternally)

“Are you okay? Is this okay?” Din asks nervously, trying his best to not put any unnecessary force into his actions, still treating her like the precious being she is.

“You are not the cause of this pain, Din. You are the salve that heals me from it,” she answers him softly, putting her hands on either side of Din’s head and resting her forehead upon his own. “Heal me, Din Djarin,” this time her tone drops slightly to something more seductive and Din couldn’t help the way he clung to her in that moment. He continued his decent down her throat, kissing fervently but once reaching her pulse point he suckles ever so lightly causing her to moan. His touch was feather light and yet it held her to the bed like gravity itself. Pulling back just enough to speak, Din brings himself level with her.

“Lay back ner kar’ta, relax I have you,” he says soothingly, reaching over to grab her pillow that lay beside them to position it beneath her. Din wanted nothing more than for her to be as comfortable as possible as he lost himself within her, bringing her as much pleasure as he possibly knew how. The notorious Mandalorian, although known for his ruthless reputation out in the universe, he wasn’t known by many in the bedroom. Only having slept with several women in his life, all while still dawning the beskar helmet and armor, this experience was going to be completely new to him. But Maker, he couldn’t get the thought of what she must taste like out of his head, so he thought he might indulge himself tonight. (translation: my heart)

“You are so breathtakingly stunning, I would like to ask to taste you cyare. It’s driving me insane to not know but if that’s not what you want we don’t have to.” Din mouths the words against her skin as he begins to move lower to her chest, peppering kisses down her sternum as she continued to card her hands through his hair. She giggles at his question, and he pulls away to look in the direction of her face. Even though she would not be able to tell his expression had taken on something similar to confusion as he didn’t understand what was funny about his question.

“Thank you for asking, ner kar’ta. But I thought I already made it clear; heal me Din Djarin, in any way you know how,” she whispers into his lips as they press into hers to confirm their mutual consent. He smiles into the kiss and then continues his decent on her torso, stopping first at her right breast. She was only wearing a thin sleep-shirt and underwear when he had awoken her from her nightmare. The shirt had been discarded at some point, Din couldn’t remember when but he didn’t care. All he knew was the sounds she was making as he laved at her peaked nipple could bring him to his knees any day. Sucking just hard enough to draw those honey-sweet moans from her mouth. Holding one of her hands in his, Din’s other hand became occupied with tweaking the nipple of the other breast. This caused her to arch her chest into the pressure, panting lightly and moaning his name softly. Din’s mouth left her nipple hesitantly, but he knew his final destination was his focus right now. He would spend an entire forthcoming evening showing her his adoration for her breasts. With a groan at the thought he drags his lips from her chest and begins peppering kisses along the skin of her stomach causing her to giggle once more. The corners of Din’s mouth quirk upwards at the sound, having become accustom to it he loves to hear it any time he can now. As Din reaches the threshold of her underwear, he pauses once again to give her a chance to decline his advances, but she does not. Slowly, he begins to place open mouthed kisses across the elastic of the fabric, and when he reaches the corner hugging her hip, he clasps it in his teeth and drags them down her legs in one motion.

She gasps at the sudden cold that caresses her sex, only becoming more damp by the second as Din reaches beneath each of her thighs to spread them apart. Placing each thigh on each one his muscular shoulders, he pauses for a moment and looks up at her one final time. Not being able to make out much in the darkness but a vague frame, he just wanted one more reassurance from her.

She knew what he was asking for, so she slowly gathered one of his hands in hers and brought it to cradle her face, guiding his thumb to her lips and kissing it lightly. Just as Din had done earlier. But to his surprise he feels her lips begin to part and she takes his thumb into her mouth, sucking it lightly and groaning as she does.

With this, Din couldn’t help himself, using his free hand he pushes her thigh up to a steeper angle. Leaning forward and dipping his head he flattens his tongue and draws a thick stripe up her cunt, causing a sharp moan to leave her lips and her legs to instinctively tighten around his head. As Din began to work his way through each silky fold he groaned at the sweet taste of her, the hand that was not occupied by her beautiful lips was finding its way to her entrance. For a moment he takes his mouth off of her and she groans in frustration this time, feeling a burning sensation erupt at the base of her spine.

“Din, please I -,” she begins a plea to him but is cut off with a gasp when two of his fingers dip into her entrance. Shifting himself upwards he lays soft kisses to her throat, moving slowly down to her collarbones and then her breast’s. All the while beginning to slowly pump his fingers into her, curling them slightly when he got knuckle deep.

“So warm, cyar’ika. Maker, fuck you’re so damn tight!” Din exclaims, beginning to quicken the pace of his fingers as he sucks tenderly at her breast, drawing deep groans from her as the sparks of pleasure set ablaze within her veins. Arching her back, she presses her chest up into his mouth once more causing a moan to escape his lips. Pulling away from her pebbled nipple, he peppers kisses down her abdomen, and very slowly brings his thumb to start rubbing at her clit as his fingers continue to work her open.

The moans of his name almost made him finish right there as the pressure on her clit was bringing her impending orgasm on quicker than she had thought. No man had ever made her feel as Din was at this moment, so perfectly pleasuring her in a way she’d never known before.

“Oh, fuck Din! Maker, don’t stop. Feels… feels so good,” her breathless pleas were punctuated with loud moans as he continued his ministrations. His lips had found purchase on her hips, sucking dark marks along the curve of each one, wanting her to feel as much of the love he possessed for her.

Through his own lust-fogged mind he registered a small flutter beginning within her as her walls began to contract even more so. He could barely breathe at the thought of what this would feel like when he was actually making love to her. How she would grip him so tightly he wouldn’t be able to see straight, lost in her beautiful ocean.

“That’s it, cyare. Just like that. You’re close? Yeah?” he says, his tone almost teasing as he moves to place her legs back into their rightful place on his shoulders. Her moans had grown considerably in volume and he knew she was right there, right on the precipice of bliss.

It’s when he removes his thumb from her clit and replaces it with his tongue that she snaps completely. Becoming intelligible as her orgasm began to rock through her, but it wasn’t a fast ascent into euphoria. No, it felt as though it was a nuclear explosion, the initial reaction being intense but the aftershocks. Din was groaning loudly into her as he had removed his fingers and was drinking in her release like a man starved of it.

He had been, at least he thought so. Now that he knew exactly what she felt like when she came undone for him, he was insatiable. Knowing that she was the only one who would have him like this for the rest of his life. His hands gripped either of her thighs, spreading her open and lapping her up as she tried her best to gather her breath. She was shaking from the intensity of it all, bliss being so potent in her veins she didn’t know how it was even possible her body was shivering like this. Din finally pulls away from her, his mouth slick with her release as a large smile adorns his face.

“Just give me one moment, I’m going to step out to the refresher and I’ll be right back, I swear to you,” he says reassuringly before crossing the small room and disappearing out the door. He does return moments later, and when he takes his place between her splayed legs again he places a warm cloth to the inside of her thigh.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her hand coming to cup his cheek. She still can’t see him but she feels the small smile that flits across his lips, desperately wishing she could see it. Din cleans her up with care, gingerly touching her sensitive mound with the cloth as he rubs soothing circles into her hip with his other hand.

“I will always take care of you, ner kar’ta,” he responds gently, placing a soft kiss to the inside of her knee before standing and tossing the rag aside. She shifts so she is laying down and moves to offer him the space. Without hesitation he gathers her into his arms and begins to place kisses to her temple and hairline. Whispering reassurances into her hair as she falls asleep, vowing to protect her with his life. Promising to love her as he knows how; deeply and everlasting. The steadiness of her breathing is his indication that she has finally found peace in her slumber. Continuing to hold her to him and trace soft shapes along her bare back, he thinks of how much he wants to know her like this forever. Thinking of how her gravity makes him feel as though he can just lay down and become one with her world, sink deep into her soil to never been seen again.

So, Din promises himself then and there that he will make that a reality. Not now, not for a while, but he knew that in the end it was her, it will always be her.

She is his darasuum

She is his new home.

#pedro pascal #din djarin #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars #din djarin angst #the mandalorian angst #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #sw the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #pedro pascal smut

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asearchforjedis · 2 years

Text

the memories that haunt us

Din Djarin x gn!reader

synopsis: You accepted his leaving long ago, though it wasn’t without struggle. Now, after you have moved on, an old flame arrives at your door.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: mostly angst, some fluff

a/n: Hi everyone! I have grappled with the idea of writing some fanfic for a while and I’ve finally given into my impulses just this once. As a consequence, this is my first fic on this site so please be kind. I hope you enjoy!

This was no fairytale.

In truth, you weren’t sure fairytales existed in any form – fictional or not, for the stories you had been told as a child had exaggerated their sincerity to a point unrecognizable, robbing them of any lesson that might be worth learning. Nevertheless, there was a time when you had thought you were in one, back when your actions had been dictated by romanticism and naivety. You could not be blamed for it, nor could anyone for having fallen into the trap, but the galaxy was no place for the innocent, for the wide-eyed, and at a time, for you.

You recalled the flowing rivers encompassing the land, their beauty unfathomable and their power unknown, and the smell of spring flowers ingrained itself into the recesses of your memory. He had found you broken, indeed a fragmented mess, and with careful hands he had made you whole again. With his words, he reminded you of your worth, of the importance of self-acceptance, and the necessity of self-respect. You think you were in love with him, the metal man that walked the paths of your remembrance, and though you had never touched his skin, nor seen the face that hid behind his angular helmet, you knew he was beautiful. The moment he had flown you to Naboo, his visor focused on your widened eyes and your eclipsing smile, you had recognised it - the beauty that hid behind his metallic exterior, and you had decided then that you would be his forever. At night, under the glow of a million shining stars, he had granted you his name, and you had granted him your heart.

But all illusions are destined to be shattered - sooner or later.

And when you had risen with the dawn, still smiling with the happenings of the night before, you had found yourself alone, stuck with the few credits he had left you and the Mandalorian-shaped whole in your heart.

And so, you had damned Din Djarin, wishing ill upon him wherever the galaxy might hold him.

But you were younger then, and angrier. You supposed that was a consequence of one’s first heartbreak, for when the feelings of betrayal and hurt intertwine with innocence and ingenuousness, they create a concoction of deadly and overcoming hatred. But as the years progressed, slow and painful as they had been, the wound began to heal, and your temperament had placated. You had founded a new life on the planet he had deserted you on, complete with your own home and a simple job, and though it compared little to the dreams you had dared to venture within during your tempestuous youth, you had discovered peace was oftentimes a worthy substitute to the chaos and burden that adventure carried. You believed you had found true freedom, perhaps not in the literal sense, but liberation from the turmoils of the past had been plenty satisfiable to you. And yet, even with having moved on from all of it, you still saw his armored form at night, when your thoughts and night-terrors were disinclined to respect your sanity.

And the moment you saw the Mandalorian at your door, as rash as he had always been, you thought you might’ve killed him.

In many ways he was the same person who had left you on Naboo, still reckless and still young, but in his stance lay the suggestions of a more-hardened nature, one forged by the transpirings of a difficult life. Despite this, you wanted to wrangle his neck in your now-calloused hands, and to give him the pain you had been forced to endure for all those years.

But your hands remained relaxed at your sides as you took a step back, letting him into your home without a word. Your house, a quaint cabin lodged within the Nabooian forests, had been commissioned with the very credits he had left you with. You had watched its insurrection with clouded eyes and vacant stares, imagining a time in which you and Din could have lived in it together, both of you lost in the delights of domestic life. But as he stood silently in your living room, his helmet angled downwards in shame, the daydream stood much less picturesque.

You weren’t much interested in his words or his pleas, nor his reasons for being on the run. You had simply left him standing there, as he had you all those years ago. When the fresh sun beckoned for a new day’s work, you had abandoned him once again, resigning your thoughts to the handiwork laid in front of you. And when the hours had passed and your tired figure found its way back to your wooden walls, you had negated his presence once more, leaving him to grapple in the silence of his guilt.

He hadn’t attempted reconciliation, having accepted your quiet detestation the moment he had arrived, and at most he was grateful for the solace you had granted regardless of your feelings on the matter. From a logical perspective, you should have preferred it this way, for his passive indifference made it easier to forget he even existed, but at times, such as when his visor lingered on you for slightly too long, you could feel the kindling within you threaten to catch alight. And so you buried the bonfire with work, and sleep, and silence. Though you remembered his simple laugh, coupled with the smile that almost burned through the beskar of his helmet, or the way you had ran and danced through abandoned fields, both of you drunk on the highs of indescribable affection. You remembered how he held you, his strength rivaled by his gentle grasp, and the warmth that hid behind the cool of his coverings, a reminder that he was alive. You remembered the promises, the sweet musings, the nicknames. You remembered how he had loved you, and how he had vowed to love you for eternity.

In the brisk Autumn night, you relaxed in the greenery outside your home, lost in your recollection. You hadn’t acknowledged him when he had found you there, all solitary in your desolation, nor when he had placed himself next to you, a soft utterance of your name filtering through his helmet. Instead, you simply found his hand with yours, grasping it with a tender grip.

And so you had sat there, the Mandalorian firmly at your side, as the sun began to shine through the trees.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin angst #din djarin oneshot #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian angst #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian oneshot

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peterparkersnose · 1 year

Text

You Over Anyone

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

word count: 2.6k

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

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

bonus at the end for you guys :)

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

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join the tag list

read time: 9 mins 29 seconds

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least someone still wanted you.

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

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

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

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

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

Your perfect moment was crushed.

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallowed.

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

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

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

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

And waited.

And waited. And they never came.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… and then Greef started to complain about-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blood was definitely lost.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

“Your in love with her Din.”

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

“Then why did you-”

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

I mean he wasn’t wrong.

“But what about-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•

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

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

bonus:

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

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

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

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

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

“No Din. I forgot your fucking nuts.”

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netherfeildren · 4 months

Text

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter XI : Lethe

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Brief reference to sexual assault (none has or will occur); Hurt/Comfort; Extremely soft Din Djarin

A/N: I kinda just winged all of this, if there are any inaccuracies or any canon divergence, a great and many apologies!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 7.7K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER XI : LETHE

At what point does one say of a man that he has become unreal?

Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

Between bouts of wakefulness, you tell him of the things they did to you in the dark. A blooming flower in the dead of winter, stunted and slow, and as if you’re pulling your own teeth in some moments, when other words come like vomit, rushed and hot and putrid but necessary, something not to be held back. And you don’t tell him the whole of it, he knows this, he can see, but you tell him the parts you can bear, and for now, it’s enough.

You sit in that bed of comfort he’s so meticulously arranged for you in the dim light of the Razor Crest, overheads shut off, only a single warm snake of glowing light falling over you from the cracked open fresher door, navcom set for the desert planet of Tatooine and the spaceport of Mos Eisley, and the thrum of hyperspace buzzes around the two of you. He sits on the opposite side of the hull, wrapped in his armor and his silence and his wanting, and he watches you ebb and flow out of sleep; soft, slow drooping of your eyes into wakefulness and then back into the depths of rest. You need so much of it, he can tell.

At first, you don’t let him near. No touching, please, you beg in whispers, and although it feels as though his bones are thrashing within the confines of his skin or like his teeth will fall out of his skull from the saccharine sweet flavor of want for you that sits sticky on his tongue, he obeys. So at a distance, with certainly no touching at all, the two of you talk. For hours, and then for days, and although his bones continue to shake, and his teeth continue to ache, he holds himself in temperance and restraint because he knows that to just look upon you is enough, he knows it’s everything.

The trip to Tatooine takes days, the Crest a little worse for wear than what she’d been when you’d previously been aboard. The hits she’d taken over the years, over his and Grogu’s journey had taken their toll, and her hyperdrive was no longer what it had once been. But she ramained faithful and sturdy, like any good mistress, and she’d get the two of you where you needed to be, to Tatooine and to Peli for some much needed maintenance after the long trip to the Core. And Din knew it wouldn’t only be the ship’s routine upkeep the two of you would find there, but some much needed rest in the sand port, as well, and most importantly, time. Buying himself time during the slow going trip, and then there, to figure out how it was he was going to get you to stay with him, force you if necessary.

He’d been telling the truth when he’d said you weren’t going anywhere. He would not be left again.

Din had been a stupid man before. He would not be making the same sorts of mistakes again.

Two days since he’d brought you aboard now, and you’re still not entirely well. Tired and sluggish, but he tells himself you just need rest and the closely monitored interval feedings he’s been coaxing on you. You’re sleeping again now after he’d gently cooed and shushed you into accepting some broth, and he watches the methodical up and down sway of the wing of your shoulder, hypnotizing, listening to the whistle of your open mouthed breathing that sings a song assuring him you’re alive and well. He’s been sitting at the opposite end of the hull from you, as far as he can get while still remaining in your direct vicinity, attempting to give you whatever measure of peace he can bear, silent and still, enshrouded in the dark for hours now. Counting the minutes between the sporadic opening of your eyes, the brief moments when you come to and grant him access to your gaze.

Those eyes of yours, they’d haunted him for two years. When he was trying to forget you, when he was trying to move on, stupid and horrible, insisting he could only take Omera from behind because he couldn’t bear the sight of a face that wasn’t yours. He had been wrong. He had done wrong. He had been bad. And he didn’t want to admit it, or acknowledge it, or look it directly in the face, but it was regret which lived in him. He couldn’t deny it.

He’s been scanning your heat signatures every thirty minutes, your core temperature holding normal, your vitals stable, and he’s full of sick paranoia, ravenous want, singing joy. Too many things churning within him to properly digest, and in a way, he’s grateful for this time you’re affording him to gather himself while you sleep and recover. He needs to be well collected, ready and strong and level headed to give you whatever it is you might need when you’re finally ready to leave your restful unconsciousness and come back to him.

You start to shift as he’s scanning your temperature once again. First the hitching of a knee and the nudge of your hips, and then your leg stretching long and lithe, and he watches the arch of your small foot peek out from beneath your blanket, tiny toes splaying wide, spasming and shivering with the stretch of your muscles. He swallows hard, forces the heat in his body that would like to swell to an inferno to remain cool and serene. All this, just from the sight of one small foot. He’s pathetic and ridiculous, and he doesn’t care because he loves you, and you finally know and really, what could matter after that? Nothing.

His eyes swing back up to your face, and he watches the scrunch of your spikey, dark lashes before you nuzzle your face into the cove of your shoulder, coming awake slowly, slowly, as if you’d not had any real, true and peaceful rest since the last time you’d been on his ship. He watches you with bated breath, the subtle inclination of his body towards you as if he were trying to absorb your presence, and when you finally turn back, eyes blinking open he feels his heart lurch in his chest at the first sight of them. Nothing in the galaxy compares, and he must surely know, he’s seen so much of it.

He says your name, voice low and graveled with disuse. “How do you feel?”

You stretch your arms out in front of you, wriggling beneath the covers and making the most delicious of little noises he forces himself not to fixate on. Oh, you sigh, eyes opening wide, long lashes fanning across high cheekbones, before you finally find him in the shadows he’s sitting in. Nothing but the still gleam of beskar in the dim light to give him away.

“You’re so extra shiny now,” little voice and even tinier nose scrunch, so adorable that something soft inside of him aches and snaps its teeth.

“Yes, well…” he sighs, “new armor.”

You sit up slowly, jaw shifting from side to side as you move with what looks like frightened care, like you’re expecting something to hurt, and then, yes, there it is, tiny and subtle, but a flinch. Infinitesimal scrunch of your brows, your left eye winking shut, the droop of your mouth, all of it happening so fast, but he’s watching so intently, learning forward as if he’d shoot across the space that separates the two of you to take you in hand, fix whatever it is that’s aching, that he catches it all before you can school your features into blankness.

“Your hair’s longer,” he whispers, and you freeze, arms bracing yourself up on locked elbows, they don’t tremble anymore like before, and he takes this as a good sign. You let your head fall forward to hang between your shoulders, long hair, a curtain concealing your face from him, and he wants to snap at you, for one unhinged moment, that you’re not allowed to keep your eyes from him anymore. He’s already gone too long without them, he can’t bear anymore of it. But he swallows his insanity, keeps his mouth shut.

You shake your head down at the blankets, before finally looking back up, sitting up all the way and turning to face him. Silent while you settle with your back against the wall so that now the two of you are face to face, separated by dust motes and memories and desire that snaps like lightning between the two of you. There is frision here, pressurized and boiling, and he has to behave. He won’t push you or ask anything of you you’re not ready to give or tell. You’d already shared bits and pieces with him, over your stunted bouts of consciousness over the past two days. A dark hole in the ground, a thieving Twi’lek, breaking of a kind he can’t bear to think of directly, and I hurt like I’m newly made, Din. And now, the first time you’ve been fully awake and lucid, he isn’t going to ruin this with his desperation.

“Fancy. Looks expensive,” you press about the armor.

“I did a big job.”

He doesn’t know how to handle the subject of him. He’d told you the most important fact you needed to know, that he isn’t his biological son, that he hadn’t betrayed you in that way. But the rest? The whole of it? There was so much to say, so many things, great and small to tell. Din couldn’t fathom where to start.

“Oh? What was it?” You’ve wrapped the blanket up high beneath your chin, hiding yourself away from him swathed as you are. Everything and anything you can do to keep yourself apart and protected.

“Are you hungry? You should eat,” he says instead.

You shake your head no. “What was it? Tell me.”

A sigh, and, “Stole the kid for some Imperial remnants.”

“You did what? Your kid?” You screech, surging forward all tangled up in the blankets as you are.

“Yes. Unknowingly,” he huffs. “I collected payment, and then I– I… I don’t know, changed my mind. I went back for him.” His words come to a stuttered halt, unsure and suddenly, unbearably shy, fucking with a small loose seam coming apart at the knee of his pants he’d been meaning to mend for days. There’s a part of him, irrational or untried or overprotective that doesn’t want to tell you about him, his ad’ika, and he can’t understand why when it’s you. The girl he loves, the girl he’s waited for. But it had been so difficult, so precarious, his journey with Grogu, always on the defensive, always looking over his shoulder, waitting for the worst. He’s unused to sharing him without fear or trepidation. And then his loss… for that’s what it feels like, and he’d never admit it aloud, knows he’s where he’s supposed to be, needs to be, now, but there still lives a small, sour seed within Din that whispers that that it’s wrong, that Grogu’s place had always been, and always will be, with him. And when he looks back up at your face, open and patient and lovely, it all spills out anyways. “He was a foundling, as I was. And he’s– he’s special. And after I went back for him, he was… put in my charge of sorts. We struggled so much, trying to evade the Empire, seeking out his people–”

“You found the Jedi?” You gasp.

Murky waters. “We did. He’s with them now. We traveled to Calodan on the forest planet of Corvus, we met a Jedi there by the name of Ahsoka Tano. I thought she’d take him then, help him. He needed to be with his people, and I knew that, I was prepared for that, but along the way… along the way he became– he became–” he clears his throat, for his voice has gone rough, almost choked. He shakes his head, unable to continue but you nod encouragingly, understanding without words all Grogu means to him. You’re sitting at the edge of the nest of blankets now, as if gravitating towards him, holding yourself back, marooned on an island of your own making.

“I’ve heard of her. A great legend, tragedy…”

“Yes, well… She sensed it in us, in Grogu.”

“That’s his name?” You ask softly. “Grogu?” And Din’s heart, it aches, at the sound of it coming from your mouth, all the gentleness and tenderness his ad’ika needs to be afforded. And unbidden, like flash fire, something he has to look away from immediately for his own self preservation, yours too probably, he thinks: oh, but you’d make the most wonderful mother, cyare.

“Yes,” he breathes, “Grogu.”

“And he– he’s a boy? Where does he come from? How old is he?”

“Not human. No one knows what species he is, but he was born on Coruscant, raised at the Jedi temple before the Great Purge, and then smuggled to safety and hidden away for years before I came to find him. He’s supposed to be about fifty years old.”

“But he’s–” your brow folds in confusion, “He’s a child? You called him–”

“Yes. He’s still young, still a baby. I don’t– I don’t know. He’s special. Green and– and wrinkled, with big eyes and even bigger ears.”

“He sounds… he sounds like someone my– my master spoke to me of, once. Of an unknown species, a great Jedi master. Perhaps the strongest in the galaxy, the strongest that's ever lived. Luke Skywalker was his apprentice.”

“That’s where the kid is now– with Skywalker.”

“You gave him to Luke Skywalker?” And your eyes shutter, your mask slipping briefly, showing your frayed edges.

“Yes.” He says carefully. “Ahsoka, she said she couldn’t take him, that we were too– too connected, that he needed someone more.”

“You seem to have a way with Force users,” you say suddenly, a little bashfully, a small smile spreading across your face in a half moon of laughter. “But it makes sense,” you continue, “That his connection, whatever loyalty to you he may have had,” and the use of the past tense feels like a gut punch, “would be difficult to work around when training someone so young and untried. But if he’s anything like his predecessor, then he has great potential in the Force. He’ll probably grow to unprecedented strength eventually. And from what I’ve heard, the species is very long lived, hundreds and hundreds of years.” Another sucker punch, this one even worse. Grogu would live to be old beyond Din’s years.

He clears his throat, yanks harder on the loose seam so that it splits at the side, revealing a patch of hairy knee. “We found those he belongs to, he’s with his people now. I lost him– or I– I returned him to where he should’ve always been. It’s better like this.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper from your perch at the edge of your self imposed island. “I’m sorry you lost him.”

“Don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s all the way it’s supposed to be.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Only a few weeks. Like I said, he was taken by Imperial remnants led by a Moff Gideon. Skywalker saved us and took him. He has a temple where he plans to train young Jedi. He’ll be with other children like him now. It’s good for him. I know it is.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of it, he promises he’s not, or doesn’t mean for it to come out like that.

“I’ve heard of Gideon,” you muse, shifting to lean back, movements still slow, not as smooth as they usually are. The thick mantle of your hair shifts over your shoulder, and Din’s mouth goes dry, desperate to bury his face in all that lush splendor and take in the scent of it, feel the drag of it across his naked chest, over his cock and thighs.

“What do you know of him?”

“Only his name, and the great ambition tied to it. He took part in the siege on Mandalore… didn’t he?”

“He did. He’s in the custody of the New Republic now. Awaiting trial and judgment.”

“Tell me about the saber,” you say then.

“I won it from Gideon in battle.”

“It’s the Darksaber, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“It’s legend.” And you look at him strangely at that, mercurial look passing through your eyes, memories or something worse. “Many great and terrible hands have wielded that blade. Clan Vizsla, who forged it, the Sith lord Darth Maul, Sabine Wren.”

He’s shocked by the seemingly great well of knowledge you possess on the figures he’s spent the last two years dealing with. “I’m familiar with the Clan. Paz Vizsla. How do you know all this?” He asks.

“He–” You turn away, brows hitching high, and he watches a swallow pass through the delicate column of your throat. “My master, he was a lover of knowledge, information gathered everywhere, always. He made it his business to know things, and my purpose to collect it for him.”

He wishes you’d let him go to you at the mention of that scum. He wishes he could resurrect him from the dead just to send him back to the deepest pit existing, at the look on your face, small and frightened and childlike. Din’s stomach turns, and he changes the subject. “Wren– she… I think I’ve heard of her from my friend Bo, as well.

“Who?” That brings you back to attention, and he’s grateful for the concealment of the helmet for the small smile he can’t help at the look that comes across your face.

“She’s a Mandalorian. Bo-Katan Kryze.”

“Your friend…?”

“She helped me with the kid. When Moff Gideon captured him, her and her followers aided me in his rescue. It got complicated–”

“Between the two of you?” You cut him off with a little huffing scowl.

“Before Skywalker showed up to help us, little one.”

“Oh,” you huff again, turning your nose up at him haughtily. He can’t help the breath of air he lets out at that. Silly, gorgeous thing. He wants to kiss you so badly.

“The saber’s rightfully hers.”

“Oh,” again, and he laughs, again. “Oh, yes. Yes. The–” you frown, “The legend is that whoever wields it can rule all of Mandalore. I’ve heard that.”

“And that sure as fuck isn’t me. Her family ruled before the siege, it’s hers.” The entire business of it still scathes and prickles at him.

And you laugh at that, “No?” Head tipping back, that mantle of hair sliding again, provoking him again. “Why not? It could be–”

“No. Definitely not. Never. That isn’t something I’d ever be interested in. I would never suit such a role. And this– this thing…” he motions to the crate where the Darksaber sits discarded. He’d found he hated wearing it on himself for too long. “It doesn't suit me well. It’s difficult to wield, something– something leaden and sucking about it.”

“You wielded it just fine from what I saw.”

“You were doing something.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I could feel you, when you attacked me–”

“I didn’t attack you,” you scoff, affronted. Haughty nose back up in the air, and the soft thing inside Din snaps its teeth together once more.

“Don’t start,” he admonishes, voice deep and rumbling and speaking of all the things he’d like to do to you that he cannot even give thought to right now. You roll your eyes, and he can’t help but smile. Sass is good, sass means you’re feeling better, more yourself.

“I could feel you, almost as if you were feeding your energy into me.”

You turn to look at him sharply at that. Tiny frown marring the space between your fine brows he’d like to smooth away with a kiss. “What? I– I didn’t mean to, or– or I didn’t know I was doing that…” You look away again, pressing fingertips to your mouth in concentration. Everything about you, every movement, gesture, frown and sigh and inflection, mesmerizes him. Din didn’t think it possible he could have been worse off than he was before, but he comes to the sudden, startling realization, that he’d had absolutely no idea how much deeper he could fall. The admission that you love him in return, the sound of it, had done something to him, set something off or opened something within him. Some sort of yawning, hungry maw that would only be satisfied once it’d swallowed you whole.

He needs to bide his time and temper his actions. He won’t scare you off.

“I was out of control…” you continue in a small whisper. “I didn’t know. I didn’t–” And you look nervous, frightened suddenly. Din leans forward, immediately on alert, ready to rush over to you if you need him, just from the look on your face. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” You’re all wide eyed fright and concern and an innocence about you, about the question, your worry that you’d hurt him. His heart thumps and thumps and thumps, the rush of blood through the mass of organ so hot it burns.

“Never, cyar’ika. You could never hurt me. I just feel you.” And it’s the truth, it had merely been an extension of yourself feeding him, strengthening him, emboldening him like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Something euphoric about the feeling he was not keen to experience again for the mere fact of how it’d left you, weak and fragile and exhausted, almost at a breaking point.

The two of you need to be careful, he realizes. There was a connection between the two of you, stronger and more easily traversed than either of you had previously realized, be it fate or love or the Force, but there was something that lived between the two of you and connected you and Din needs to be absolutely sure that whatever it is never becomes a detriment to you in any way.

You tilt your head sideways, some truth he knows he should fear churning behind your eyes. You bring your knees up to fold tightly against your chest, wrapping your arms around your shins, and lay your cheek against the small cap, hiding away from him again. “I want–” you say in a very small voice, “I want to tell you things, but I’m afraid of–” a swallow of breath.

“Afraid of what, cyare?”

At the tremble of your spine as you hitch with nerves, Din wants to go to you so badly. This is the most difficult thing he’s ever endured in his life. “Afraid you won’t see me the same again after I tell them.”

“Didn’t I already tell you there isn’t anything you could ever do that I wouldn’t forgive you for?” He presses forward just a millimeter.

You peer up at him at that, and there are no tears in your eyes which soothes him, in part, but worse, still splintered with so much sadness or hurt or the terror of time, and it’s like he’s bellyful of grief. There is something acutely unfair about the distance sitting between the two of you right now when you’re holding that look in your eyes.

“But what about respect?”

“You could never lose that from me either.” You shake your head, propping your chin on your bent knees and wrapping your hands around your feet to pull them up and rock back and then forward, thinking of what it is you're trying to say.

“Don’t you think there are certain things that a person shouldn’t be forgiven for?”

“Perhaps. But there are certain people the rules don’t apply to. That’s you for me.”

“That isn’t fair.”

“To who?”

“To you!” You say incredulously.

“Why not?”

“You–” And there are tears now, swimming in your eyes, his heart thump, thumping in agitation at the sight of them. He gives a growl of frustration that ends on a choke as you squeeze your eyes shut, a single tear sliding over the slope of your cheekbone. “Maker, Din. This is all wrong.” You sound as full of frustration as he feels, and he wants to say that he’s sure if you’d just let him come to you, you’d find the right way forward within each other. “You want to touch me.” He bites down on his tongue hard enough to taste blood.

“Are you looking in my head?”

You give a soft laugh. “Don’t need to.” He huffs, well, he isn’t going to deny it.

You turn away again, laying your cheek back atop your knee, and he can see the tension in your arms as you squeeze yourself tight, tighter. “I– I can’t– I can’t have sex with you,” you say in a smaller voice than he could’ve imagined possible.

He’s silent for a moment, trying to measure his breathing, and there’s violence thrumming within him at what he’s about to ask, but his voice is nothing but gentleness. “Did they– did they hurt you like that?”

You heave a long sigh, “No, but the feel of skin, I cant– I– I hurt everywhere, Din. Everywhere. Inside and– and–”

“It’s alright. It’s alright, cyar’ika.” He tries to push his voice out in gentle, measured notes. Something that’ll soothe you from afar. And the sight of you, all twisted and squeezed up into a tight little ball like you are– Maker– Din feels afraid, for a moment, of what might become of him, of the sort of violence he feels capable of in your name. “If it hurts, you don’t have to tell me anything now or at all.”

“I want to. Is it–” You look up, brow folding, squinty eyed as if you’re rifling through your head for the words. “How do I– how do I tell you that you deserve to know the full of it, but don’t deserve to carry the burden of it? That I wish I didn’t have to, but that I also want to tell you.”

“Just like that.” He presses another half a millimeter forward, feels like he’s hallucinating the scent of you from over here. “Tell me anything you need just like that. But don’t say it’d be a burden, you could never be anything even close to that to me.”

And still, with your eyes not on him, you say that which he’d already been expecting: “I let them keep me.”

He’d known.

“Are they dead?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“You didn't leave even one for me?” Your cheek rolls against the hill of your knee, eyes swinging up to spark at him, and Maker, as long as he’s still able to pull that look from you there’s hope. He can fix anything if only you continue to look at him like that.

The trip to Tatooine takes about ten days. Bouts of sleeping and eating and his gentle but insistent caring for you. He won’t let you pull away or into yourself; kept at a distance, but not pulling away, and the distinction might not be obvious, but he sees it. That’s enough.

Days later, when you wake again, a little stronger, but still sleepy and soft and beautiful, your hair is even longer. Seeming to grow a yard a day, incredibly. “It’s the Force; healing me, reconnecting with me. It works in strange ways,” you tell him as it pools around your waist. He says nothing, catalogs everything, and later, you come, moving slowly up the ladder into the cockpit to join him in the co-pilot's chair, bundled in a blanket. He’d left some of his socks for you warming on a pipe, just like before, and he sees the thick weave of them droopy over your toes, the part where his heel is supposed to go coming up to your ankle. He swallows and looks away and breathes and breathes and reminds himself he is strong and patient and entirely at your service in any way you might need. Din reminds himself that he must be good.

Your wounds heal slowly over the days, and he gripes and groans that all your energy is funneling into that damn hair and not the more important bits of you. He perches you on a crate, after having urged you into the fresher, pacing outside anxiously, hands on his hips, a huff and a sigh a minute while he listens for any bump or movement from within, making sure you don’t need him. He sticks a bowl of soup in your hands after, kneeling before you, gloves fitted over his hands so that you won’t have to feel his skin and shows you the bacta patches slowly, movements intentional and measured so that you’re not taken by surprise or touched in any way that you might not like. You eye him suspiciously, brow hitched, nose scrunched when you sniff delicately at the broth and then promptly discarding the bowl beside his medical kit, watching for what he plans to do with you next.

“That bit on your elbow isn’t healing.”

You give him a tiny frown, tucking the sore little wing tight into your side protectively. He presents his palms towards you, moves slowly. “It’s fine,” you pout.

“You know it’s not, little one. I’m going to put a single bacta patch over it. That’s it. No fuss, I promise.” Still moving slowly, watching the look in your eyes, opening the packet gently, he reaches for your arm, index finger and thumb taking hold of you first, a barely there cuff of his fingers just above your joint. He gives one slow stroke of his thumb, feeling you lock up, makes a low noise deep in his chest, something to soothe and coax you as he pulls your arm gently forward, untucking it from your side. “It’s alright, cyar’ika. Just a little bacta, nothing scary.” Your eyes go a little glazed, head tilting sideways to look down at him, mass of your hair shifting around you. That hair and those eyes and that face, Maker, but this is where he belongs, this is where he should always be, at his knees before you.

You give a soft sigh verging on a breathy little moan, your eyes fluttering shut as he smooths his thumb against the inner slope of your elbow, just there at the vulnerable dip, but when he slowly starts to lift your arm to get at the back side where the wound is, raw and red, a burned and angry looking thing, you wince, a little screech warbling in your throat, before jerking back trying to get away from him, quick and violent in your incoordination. That damned shoulder you haven’t let him look at yet, he knows it’s bad. You flail, little foot coming up to stub your toes against his stomach plate, bum scooting precariously over the edge of the stool. He reaches for you on instinct, his hand cupping the curve of your bottom to keep you seated, shit, hold on, stop, he grunts, but when you shove him away, loud slap of your palm against the curve of his helmet, he loses his balance, momentum taking the both of you toppling, unintentionally taking you with him. He falls splayed on his back, helmet dinging hollowly where his head knocks against the steel floor with a tangled mass of soft limbs and too long hair and lush tits sprawling over him. You wriggle and flail, an indignant squeak of his name, and then you go tense realizing all the places the two of you are suddenly pressed together. He feels a shudder of painful terror lock your limbs into shivers, the trembling hitch of your chest, and he holds frozen still, waiting for you to make the first move. But Maker, the feel of your weight on top of him. He widens the stance of his legs, slowly brings a knee up, trying to keep the heft of you away from his cock. He dips his chin to watch your face, eyes wide, frantically swinging across his chest, to his hands held up in surrender at your shoulders level, up to the face of his helmet.

You’re full of unsure fear and desire, yes, he can see it just there in the farthest glimmer of your eyes, the one like a scream, bright and hungry. Your brows fold together, confused, a frustrated noise slipping off your tongue before you give one more tense, strained jerk, and then seem to suddenly lose the fight and entirely melt into him. Your temple landing with a soft thump on his chest plate, arms wilting from their tensely held position over the outsides of his arms. Just a melted little thing of a girl, finally letting go of all that anxious strain you’ve held yourself in for two long years.

Din dares not move, not even breathe. He holds so still for so long he’s able to watch the change in the cadence of your breathing, the rickety little patter of nerves into slow and deep sighs, all relaxation and trust. And the bright light-like realization dawns on him while he lays beneath you, feels your chest press into his, the fire of your heart seeming to melt through beskar, the two of you know each other too well, too intimately. The two of you love each other, and he wants to live in it and experience it so badly. He wants to rush madly through the whole thing of it, live the rest of your lives together fast and in the blink of an eye first, and then be able to go back and do it all again slow and precise, taking each lived detail in his hand and learning the shape of it entirely before he’s able to move on to the next moment. He wants it all, the whole of a life with you.

So he doesn’t touch you, but the two of you lay like that, pressed against each other for hours, and the moment is enough.

Days later, he asks because he cannot help himself, because if you have to bear the truth of it all, he will too: “Why did you do it all?” And he doesn’t know precisely what the root of the question is.

Why did you leave me?

Why did you stay gone so long?

Why did you hurt yourself as you did?

You don’t answer immediately, and he wonders if he’s stepped where he shouldn’t have, pushed too far too soon, but then your face goes smooth and serene. Honest. “I didn’t think it would happen as it did. I thought I’d see you again, I thought it would all be sooner. I didn't think I’d be gone,” gone, “for so long. I thought I’d get a chance to make up for my mistakes with you.”

You sit in the co-pilot's chair, slightly behind him, and he doesn’t turn to look back at you, but he can see your reflection in the gleaming curve of the front of the cockpit, the rush of hyperspace zinging around the two of you, it’s quiet and thrumming and he can hear the soft cadence of your breathing. Your tunic is high necked, sitting just below the soft point of your little chin, every square inch of you wrapped away and sealed tightly in dark fabric, little pearlescent buttons that gleam blue crawl up to your throat and seem to strangle you. It’s as if you’d donned your own suit of armor, and he can’t understand how you still look so fucking good after everything. But as if he could peel away the stitching of you to peer beneath, he sees all that is wrong, all that is missing and all that is still echoing hollow. He thinks if he could only fill you with himself, all of everything would be set to rights.

You rest your head on the seat back, rolling it side to side slowly, thinking on what is is you’ll tell him next. “Because in ways, it felt good, better, than the alternative.”

“To be free?”

“Yes.” And the truth of that sits heavy and cloying between the two of you. An animal, hurt, will return to what it knows, no matter how badly it’s treated. It’s in its nature to seek out its familiar habitat. “Because I saw no other recourse, nothing better for me to do. Because I was stupid. Because I wanted to see how long I could last.”

He bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood, thick and metallic rolling over his tongue. “I don’t want to be selfish. I’ve been trying to– to not be that, to not make this about me.”

“It is about you.” Maker.

And he still doesn’t turn, says through his honest shame: “But I have to tell you that I don’t know how I can live with this, knowing this. I feel like– like I… I don’t know. I feel like if I go to sleep tonight knowing this, I won’t wake up tomorrow. Like it’ll crawl up my throat and strangle me in my sleep. And it shouldn’t– it shouldn’t be about me.”

“It’s not selfish, Din. It is about you,” you say again, and he wonders if your intention is to hurt him or yourself. More of that painful honesty like a blade through a lung.

He finally turns in his seat. “The way you live is the way I live. Do you understand me? The way you live is the way I live and your breath is mine and your hurt is mine.”

Your eyes are heavy lidded, watching him through the thick screen of your dark lashes, one eye seems to glow, the other to swallow him. “That’s why I know it’s about you too now. It started with nothing, with stupidity, and a wanton desire for– I don’t know, for destruction or something. But it ended with the realization that I’d have to tell you of all this one day. That it would be yours too eventually. And I regret it bitterly for that.”

“How am I supposed to move past this? What– what am I supposed to do with it?” He worries he sounds very like a child asking, but he has to anyway.

You shut your eyes, going so still, made of adamant and glass and smoke. He knows a thing like you could do nothing but survive, but at the same time, it seems a miracle you did. That you let yourself. He tracks the slope of your nose, the lush of your mouth, dry, you won’t drink enough water and it pisses him off, little chin and delicate throat, all that hair, the round of your breasts and the dip of your waist. Those little blue glowing pearl-for-buttons. He wants to steal them and swallow them away.

“Do you think,” you start, eyes still closed, face still calm. He leans forward, elbow braced against wide spread knees, and watches closely at the way your mouth forms the shapes of your words. “Do you think that– I don’t know how to say it, I think… but do you think it’s wrong to ask someone you love to just let a thing go? As much as it might’ve hurt them or bothered them or– or I don’t know… ruined everything. But to just ask them, for your sake, to let it go? Forget. Do you think that’s wrong?” Your eyes open. “Or selfish?”

“Is that what you want from me, cyar’ika?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t want to be selfish with you.”

“Neither do I. You said before that you don’t want me to forgive you. You don’t want forgiveness, you want forget.”

“Yes.”

He nods once. “And I have nothing to forgive you for, and asking me for the things you need is never selfish.”

And you say again, once more like before with your face still calm, “You want to touch me.”

If he were a beast made only of flesh and bone and not a man he would snap his teeth. “Yes.”

You stand slowly, hair a cloak around your shoulders, and step to him, between his wide spread thighs. He should beg, but he only stays frozen, and you bring your hand up to the face of his helmet, palm splaying along the side, he wishes you’d rip the thing off of him. He wishes he had never taken a Creed at all. Your palm on his face would fix everything, like him filling the hollow place within you. It would all be well if only the two of you could come together. Din knows it.

You lower yourself to perch primly on one thigh, slow like thaw, bringing your knees up to curl into his chest, little socked toes braced against beskar. One hand smoothing up his stomach and chest plate, other curled over the pauldron of his shoulder, you reach the lip of the helmet, close your eyes, and start to lift the weight of it from his face.

“I’m not going to open my eyes. I’m not going to look.”

The rush of hyperspace reflects off your skin in silvers and blues, makes you more dream than girl, and then his face is uncovered, and he listens to the symbol of who he is supposed to be, who he has been all his life, roll from your fingers discarded on the ground, the loud clang of history ringing in his ears, but all he cares about is, “You kept them.” He brushes a thumb, careful of your skin, against the glowing gem of your earring. The way it twinkles and sparks and exists as a monument to your shared history.

“Something shiny to remind me of my shiny.” A tear slides slow and clear down the slope of your cheek, coming to rest at the corner of your mouth, and he watches it quiver and shake there in anticipation, much like his heart does within his chest. You take his face between your hands, animal sound from his tongue, one hand at the curve of his jaw, cradling him like he’d be something precious and fragile if only the two of you let it be so. Not animal, not man, only loved.Your other hand spreads, glides and cups and soothes, his forehead, his brow, little fingertips pressed to the outside dip of his eye socket, running along the rim of bone beneath hot skin. He watches your face, the tear at the corner of your mouth, and you come towards him very slowly, the fold of your hips, stomach, breasts, and then your mouth on his.

And then your mouth on his.

He takes the tear into his mouth, holds it on the surface of his tongue. He could swallow it like he would the pearls. This is enough.

It’s soft as a whisper and then hard. Your nails digging suddenly, scratching and searching for a crack in his surface where you’d find purchase to pull him closer, burrow your way inside. You press your closed mouth hard against his, shoulders hitched high, and he grips the arms of his chair so hard his fingers ache. A sob in your throat that turns into a broken sort of moan, giving him permission to break too.

He circles your waist in his hands, takes hold of the shape of you, and it’s just like in his memories and dreams and nightmares. Hands sliding up the slope of your back through all of that glorious hair, still growing, right to the edge of your tunic covered nape.

“Din.” He swallows the tear. He touches your skin.

You moan for him, mouth shaky and wet, vibrating into him, the tip of your tongue tasting the edge of his lip, and then he’s swallowing you whole. Shifting you further onto himself, the soft round of your bottom over the thick of his lap, tits pressed against his chest, he needs to taste it all, your nails digging so hard into the skin of his face you’ll surely draw blood, and he will surely thank you for it. “Yes.” He says in return, finally, he draws onto your tongue. Full upper lip slotted between his, and it’s wet tongue and sharp teeth and a very dark place you should have never been, too much time wasted, a promise to forget because that’s what you need of him.

He hitches you higher, tighter, forces himself not to take it further, press you too hard. Groans rough and ragged when you whine soft and small. Sucking on your tongue, tugging at your lip. And your hands move to his hair, little fingers wrapped in his curls, dragging down the front of his face, over his eyes and nose, finding the seam of a scar there. “What’s this?” You follow the faultline of old hurt, and he grips your wrist, directs your hand to the other, thicker weave of scar tissue along the back curve of his skull, wanting to show you all the places he was broken that you were not there to mend. “Din,” on a frightened little gasp he soothes away with his tongue along the back of your teeth and the drag of his palm down the slope of your spine, stopping just shy of the curve of your ass.

“Explosion.”

Din, again, Din. You press your fingers along the rough knit flesh, and he feels your tears slide along his own cheek and perch at the corner of his own mouth now.

“It’s okay, little love. I’m here with you.” Tugs you back close and safe and tightly pressed, seam of him woven into the seam of you, mouth to mouth.

“And I understand.” He cups the back of your head, pulls you back, opens you and tastes and tastes and tastes. “I’ll promise to let it go. But you have to promise too.” Changes the angle, the flavor of you still the same, the sound of you still the same, the feel. “That you’ll never do it again.”

“I promise, Din.” It’s enough.

Chapter XII

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

#TCC fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian angst #din djarin angst #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #vic fic

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

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Your Creed, My Quest

Din Djarin x jedi!reader/jedi!oc

She's been tasked by her master to watch over the child, but things become complicated when she picks up a rogue Mandalorian along the way.

series warnings | 18+ canon-typical violence, angst, eventual smut, like a moderately-paced burn lol

a/n | this story will in some places twine closely with the canon story and in others fully depart. i am not a star wars scholar by any means, but i have done my best to move through this beloved world with care and a great deal of thought.

.......................

prologue

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3 - coming soon

#din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x oc #din djarin angst #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fluff #din djarin au #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian angst #the mandalorian fanfiction

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handspunyarns · 1 year

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You Were Marked Masterlist

a multi-chapter Din Djarin x O/C

**** please feel free to review, comment, criticize, reblog, and otherwise speak your mind. ****

Pairing: din djarin x *no age gap* *plus-sized* fem!O/C

Rating: will be 18+

Story summary: Din accepts an ambiguous bounty for an impressive sum. It takes him days out of the charted galaxy through hyperspace to an unknown planet with inhabitants ruled by men, secretive, and unlike anything Din had experienced before. He meets a woman living alone outside of the protected boundaries of the community…

Story warnings: Mando'a and English cursing, explicit sexual content, non-con sexual content, extreme violence, rape, torture, misogynic culture, revenge, and gluten

**** please feel free to review, comment, criticize, reblog, and otherwise speak your mind. ****

Click Here to read on AO3

Prologue

Day One

Day One point Five

Day Two

Day Two point Five

Day Three (18+, MDNI, sexual situations)

Day Four

Day Four point Five (18+, MDNI, violence, sexual situations)

Day Five

Day Five point Five (18+, MDNI, sexual situations)

Day Six (18+, MDNI, violence, rape, SA)

Day Six point Five

Day Seven (18+, MDNI, rape, torture, violence, SA)

Day Seven point Five (18+, MDNI, rape, torture, violence, blood, SA)

Days Eight through Eleven (18+, MDNI, rape, torture, violence, blood, SA)

Day Twelve

Day Thirteen

Day Fourteen (Din) (18+, MDNI, sexual situations)

Day Fourteen (Marathel)

Day Fourteen point Five (Marathel)

Day Fifteen (Din)

Day Fifteen (Marathel & Cobb)

Day Fifteen point Five

Days Sixteen to Nineteen, Part I

Days Sixteen to Nineteen, Part II

Days Sixteen to Nineteen, Part III (18+, MDNI, rape, violence, sexual situations)

Day Twenty (18+, MDNI, rape, violence, sexual situations)

Day Twenty-One (18+, MDNI, rape, violence, sexual situations)

Day Twenty-One point Five (Din)

Day Twenty-One point Five (Marathel)

Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part I

Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part II. (18+, MDNI, violence, sexual situations)

Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part III (18+, MDNI, blood, sexual situations)

Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part IV (18+, MDNI, violence, rape, sexual situations)

Future Days (coming soon)

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moon-sang · 1 year

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𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝔹𝕪 𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℝ𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 2: BLOOD BY THE RIVER ~ PART 1

SERIES MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: Dark secrets are revealed about 003′s past. Not everyone has their happy ending.

WARNINGS: (for the whole series) Mild horror, Mature language, sexual references, mention of experimentation on children, wounds, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, possible smut (I’m not sure where this is heading at the moment), typical violence, descriptions of blood, fem!reader, mention of abuse, please tell me if I miss anything.

~~~~~~~~

Din stays silent for a moment. Processing the words that just came out of her mouth. She’s clearly been abused. Din thinks. Why else would she say something like that? 003 stares Din down, wordless as usual. So he attempts asking her another question. “Where is your home?”

003 looks at Din, blankly. Her eyes held no emotion. Like they were staring into a void of nothingness. After a moment longer of silence, she speaks. “Tear me to pieces. Skin and bone. Welcome home.” She whispers, her voice was almost angelic, if not for the small crack in between her words. Was that a riddle? She was talking in riddles?

The Mandalorian stands there, completely still, his head trying achingly hard to somehow decode her statement.

Tear me to pieces

Skin and bone

Welcome home

Home was somewhere she got hurt, maybe?

Was she so used to being hurt so much that she feels home isn’t the same unless someone is hurting her? It seemed far fetched, but it was the only lead Din had.

“What does that mean? Does your family hurt yo-”

“Hello! Excuse me?” a raspy voice calls from the door of his small hut.

Din sighs, and looks towards the door, then to 003, who was strangely acting skittish, eyes scanning the door in absolute horror.

“Stay here.” He tells the girl, with his pointer outstretched.

“I’ll be back.”

~~~~~~~

“Can I help you?” Din blankly states. In front of him stood a man, dressed in a white gown with a pale creased face. “Good evening, Mandalorian. I’m Doctor Miller. I come from Odari’s national lab, just above that cliff.” he exclaims, pointing to a cliff, right above the river. “Ok.” Mando says. He offers a curt nod, encouraging the doctor to get to the point. The green-eyed doctor continues with a small smile. “A girl...with a severe mental disorder, has run away from our care, at the hospital, in the lab. Our camera’s last saw her jumping off of the cliff, and we presume she would have landed somewhere in this river.” Doctor Miller explains, eyes creasing to zone in on the Mandalorian’s visor. “You haven’t seen her, have ya?”

Severe mental disorder?

Hospital?

That would explain why 003 was using riddles to communicate with him before. He knew there wars something wrong

Maybe....giving her in, would help her, after all, if it really was a hospital, they would be trying to heal her in some way.

Din huffs out.

“Actually, doc, I have seen he-”

The door slams shut.

Din stumbles back from the impact, pure shock filling his system. The wind couldn’t have been that strong. His eyebrows crease under his helmet, in utter confusion. With a quirk of his eyebrow, Din cautiously reaches for the wooden door knob again, but when he tries to pull it open, it doesn’t budge. He tries pulling harder this time. The door only offers ear-piercing creaks as it is pulled back with such brutality. “What the kriff?!” Din curses, slamming a fist on the weakened door.

“Mandalorian?” The doctor questions once again, from the outside.

“Just give me a second.” Din shouts back.

“This place better have some tools to get the door open.” Din mutters under his breath as he turns to ravage the ramshackle house. He almost bumps into 003 as he strides away... why was she standing up, right behind him?

Somethings weird.

Her eyes are trained on something, and a trail of fresh blood runs down her ears. Her mouth is creased into a thin line, deep in concentration. Her breaths are oddly laboured and sound sort of pained.

Curiously, Din follows her gaze to... the door, the door.. that slammed on him moments before.

No...

She didn’t?

Close the door?

Did she?

Din shakes 003 out of her trance, and her eyes meet his almost instantly. He can almost feel her hold on the door break.

Experimentally, Din reaches for the knob again, visor never leaving her panicked face. He made sure to watch her every move, every twitch of her fingers, every small shake of her head, the glimmer of fear in her eye...it was oddly familiar. It reminded him of the same look his bounties would give him when they knew they were caught. When fear finally took a grip on their soul’s and they resorted to a begging blubbering mess.

With a small sigh...

He opens the door.

But just as quickly as it opened, it closed again, and a new line of blood, falls from the girls nose.

“No” The girl says in a breathy whisper.

But her mouth doesn’t move. No, it’s almost like she was talking in his head? And he’s almost convinced that he made her voice up in his head when-

he hears her again.

“Bad man.” She adds.

But her mouth is still closed. Her plump lips pulled into a small pout.

“How are you-?” Din starts, talking more to himself than the girl.

“Excuse me, mr Mandalorian?!” Doctor Miller shouts from the door once again. “Dank Farrick!” He whisper shouts.

Please don’t give me to him

And she did it again. Telepathically communicated to him.

It only took one look into her teary pleading eyes, for Din to make up his mind.

For now, she would be safer with him, than anyone else.

“I won’t” He assures her, before taking a step outside, and shutting the door halfway behind him.

~~~~~~~

“I did see her, but I didn’t pull her out of the river. I thought she was dead.” Din lies explains to the doctor. Doctor Miller nods, eyebrows creased in understanding. “I completely understand, seeing someone just floating in the river, I can see how you thought she was dead.” He chuckles. Din nods, nervously chuckling with him. “Can I just ask one question then?” He asks, voice going up in pitch slightly. The Mandalorian says nothing, widening his stance slightly. “If you didn’t pull her out of the river, then....Who’s that?” He asks, pointing towards him- no, behind him.

Din’s helmet slowly turns back.

Please don’t be behind him

Please don’t-

She was there.

The doctor smiled cockily, twinkling his fingers at the girl in an attempt to wave at her. “Hello, 003. Ready to come home yet?” She creases her brows in anger and shakes her head two times.

Din couldn’t risk bounty hunters coming after him for a girl.

He tried protecting her

She went outside

She made the choice to reveal herself

If he kept her now...bounty hunters would find his location.

He didn’t need that stress.

“Take her.”

~~~

003′s head snapped in the Mandalorian’s direction.

Her eyes instantly filled with betrayal, regret, and unspent anger.

Raging emotions bubbled to her surface. It was obvious to Din, she had limited practice at controlling her emotions, they were written all over her face.

A familiar guilt settled in the pit of his stomach as he watched the doctor harshly grab 003 by the arms, and drag her back. “I shall see you soon, Mandalorian.” Shouts the Doctor as he disappears through the mist with 003, screaming and thrashing in his hold.

~~~~~~~

2 Days Later

He came to Odari to hide

He came to Odari to let the child stretch his legs

He came to Odari in the hopes to be safe for a while

He came to Odari to shake off the bounty hunters, not attract more

which is why he couldn’t understand-

Why he was on his way to the lab.

~~~~~~~ Taglist Open

#din djarin x reader #The girl by the river #the girl by the river chapter 2 #mando x reader #Din x reader #The Mandalorian series #The Mandalorian #The Mandalorian x reader #Mando x you #Din Djarin x you #Din x you #The Mandalorian angst #mando angst

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of-many-fandomss · 1 year

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Now taking Din Djarin requests!!

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manhandlememando · 1 year

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Gravity Ch. 3

din djarin x f!reader

TW: PTSD symptoms, mentions of SA but no descriptions, nightmares, Din being clueless, ANGST, Razor Crest is still kickin’, written in 3rd person POV (she/her)

(series is ongoing)

word count: 2,553

Din woke to the most blood-curdling scream he had ever heard. He moved to grab his helmet and was out of his chambers in seconds. It had been four nights since the incident, and every single night Din was awoken by her shrill cries. Without fail Din will go to her and wake her from the clutches of the nightmare playing in her head. As he made his way to her quarters he felt that familiar feeling of his feet being moved from under him, his center of gravity almost shifting his steps with each cry. His ungloved hands made quick work of the automated lock on her door, pushing it open quickly to reveal her thrashing in her bed. No doubt trying to fight him off, trying to free herself from the confines of the nightmare. Having done this several times before he knows now to go to her quietly, repeating her name in a calm tone continually as he places both hands on the sides of her head. Her sweat-slick brow hot under his fingertips as he begins to rub slow circles into her temples. Continuing his ministrations and repeating her name along with “wake up cyare”, she began to wake. She had stopped crying, the thrashing of her limbs had faltered with her hands now gripping his forearms. She hasn’t opened her eyes yet but he could tell she was coming into consciousness. Her whimpers were all that remained, the last of her tears still slowly rolling down her cheeks. When she opened her watery eyes, his breath hitched again, heart stuttering like the left engine motor that was still giving him trouble. He had looked into her eyes so many times before, making eye contact, but never contact. He couldn’t even imagine now how he could have been so naive, to not know that it was her.

——————————

Over the past several days Din had been with her, navigating this new terrain right along side her. She hadn’t left the ship within the past four days and she knew that Din hadn’t left her side other than to retrieve more supplies as she wasn’t able to. He had returned with enough food for several days, and the thought comforted her that she may not need to move for the next 48 hours, literally.

That first night after falling asleep with her hand intertwined with Din’s, he had gone back to his chambers for her to wake him several hours later with a ear-splitting scream, Din sprinted to her courters and all but tore the door down to get in. She was having a nightmare, Din thought as he observed her moving frantically around her cot, pushing against invisible forces. He panicked at first, frozen in the doorframe, his hands slightly shaking with the breath ragged in his lungs. Picking through a list of ideas, he resorted to thinking of ways he calms himself down from panic attacks. He’s had them for periods of time before but never as bad at this seemed to be, and this was a nightmare. A freezing cold shower shocks the nervous system into waking the person up, the thought coming to him almost immediately as it was always his first option. He knew touching her would result in nothing good, but he had no other option to move her to the refresher. Still loudly yelling and sobbing out pleas to somebody that only existed in her head now, he walked over and bent down slightly to pick her up. Moving her flailing hands he wrapped his arms around her torso, with her facing upwards she has the advantage by pushing her weight against the bed and up into him. Not waking as she does, but still managing to actually push him. Not enough to deter him but enough for him to realize this was going to be harder than he thought. Wrapping his arms tighter around her middle he took his right hand to encase both of hers, wrapping it around her wrists, holding them together. Moving to pin them between their bodies he let go of her wrists and brought his right hand to hold the back of her head, his arm draping over her shoulder. He grimaced as she sobbed and looking down he noticed she still wasn’t conscious, and he hated the idea of him being the cause of her pain but he couldn’t let her nightmares eat her alive either. So he fought her, grunting as she squirmed in his arms, he picked her up and brought her into the refresher. Turning the nob of the shower a bit he stepped in with her still in his arms and sat them both on the floor under the stream of freezing water. He was clad in only a sleep shirt, a pair of black boxers and his helmet, and her in a t-shirt and underwear, all of which was now soaking wet. But he didn’t care, he didn’t give a single bantha shite. All he cared about was that she stopped crying, that she would stop suffering. Gasping for air she awakes with a start, the stream of water coming down on her head causing her to sputter and lean forward coughing. He let her go, her cries having stopped abruptly and he knew she was awake. He backed up slightly not trying to crowd her, and stood up slowly to turn the water to a warmer temperature. She curled herself into a ball in the corner of the small shower, shaking and trying to catch her breath. Her throat was raw from the constant screaming, and she swallowed several times to gain enough purchase to speak.

“Din…?” she whispered it almost as a question as she stared at the form squatting in front of her.

“Hi,” he responded, his voice was soft but weak, “I didn’t know what to do, I heard you screaming and when I couldn’t get you to wake I just… I didn’t know,” he stammers trying to find an explanation for the situation they had found themselves in.

“Thank you,” is all she says in a response. Din feels helpless, not knowing what to do now that she was awake he felt as though his presence may be causing more problems. He moves to leave and as he does she shoots a hand out to grab his wrist.

“Don’t, please don’t,” she pleads. Just stay, her eyes finish her broken sentence with that final plea. He doesn’t need much coaxing to sit with her again.

“What can I do?” He asks, she tries a smile as she answers him.

“Just hold me again,” she whispers. He nods and gathers her in his arms. The same position they had been in not even six hours prior. The hot water of the shower left her clothes stuck to her skin, and she was glad she had chosen a dark sleep shirt. It was the moment she nestled into his chest and her breasts brushed against his wide sternum that she realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her cheeks reddened slowly as she realized that he wasn’t wearing any armor, no padding or flight suit and his firm chest was pressed against hers. He was clad in only boxers and a t-shirt, which she had never seen him in before. She had never seen his toned arms laid bare before, his honey-golden skin rippling over muscles in the large biceps encasing her. His skin was smooth, and she knew this from having seen his face briefly, but she didn’t know just how handsome his body was. Thinking back to her final conscious thought before falling into the nightmare-ridden sleep, she smiled finally knowing how his skin felt. She knew she shouldn’t be looking at him this way, but she suddenly couldn’t look away. Wanting to lay her eyes on every piece of skin exposed, without being noticed that is. Shifting to move her head to the side she observed the body she was currently laying on, trying not to move her head to much to make it known. His legs were as toned and broad as the rest of him. Dark hair covering them, the same color as the messy, yet endearing brown locks on his head. His stomach is soft, but she could tell that muscle is still very much present beneath the surface. Smiling, she thought to herself how she preferred his broad, comfortable chest and soft tummy to his armor any day.

“Do you feel better?” Din asked, a sliver of hope lining his tone through the modulator in his helmet. She realized then that he probably had seen her smile, she looked up to meet the beskar helmet staring down at her.

“Yes, I - can you bring me back to bed?” She said, hesitating just for a moment but the words persisted through her lips nonetheless. He tensed for just a moment, not knowing he had wanted to hear that from her before.

“Yes”, he said abruptly moving to shift her off of him as he felt a slow burn of arousal in his lower stomach at her words. Not the kriffing time, Din, he thought to himself. Grabbing her lightly by the elbows he steadied her on the way to her feet. He shut off the water and as he did his eyes fell for just a moment onto her pebbled nipples through the soaking wet shirt and the soft curve of her breasts. DIN! He scolded himself mentally, and immediately looked anywhere else, turning to open the shower door he grabbed some towels for them.

“Are you okay to walk?” Turning to her he asks, unsure if she was stable enough to get back to her bunk on her own.

“I think I can manage,” she snorted lightly, “but thank you,” she finished, remembering her manners.

“Do you think you might be able to stay with me again? You know, while I fall asleep?” She asked nervously, not wanting to encroach on his sleep schedule.

“Of course, let me change and I’ll be with you in a moment”, his tone so sincere it made all her anxiety melt away knowing he would be there for her again. He parted ways with her to go change out of his sopping clothes, and she did the same. This time putting on a pair of shorts and another dark shirt, and after washing her face and drying her hair she heard a stiff knock on the door.

“It’s unlocked,” she called. The door hissing open almost immediately and he stepped in. This time adorned in his flight suit, covering most of his body again, with his helmet still intact as always. He moved to sit in the chair he had occupied previously and tilted his helmet up looking at her.

“If that happens again, what should I do? How should I handle this?” He asked with an earnest, sounding somewhat desperate.

“Don’t grab me, don’t hold my body at all, it just adds to the physical sensations I’m experiencing in the dream. Maybe…” she thought for a moment, looking into the T of his visor hoping she was making eye contact with him. Instead of trying to explain, she grabs both of his hands feeling the rough calluses on his palms and fingertips from shooting blasters all his life. She placed both of them on either side of her head, positioning his thumbs right above each of her temples. She placed her own fingers over his and started to push and form circles into her temples. Making sure that he kept her head steady.

“When I panic I rub my temples to calm myself down,” she explains. He nods and she removes her hands and he continues the movements she showed him.

“Do this and keep saying my name, not loudly, but enough to get my attention,” she continued, her lip trembling. He lets go of her head and tries to look into her eyes, but she’s not there. Tears are welling in her eye-line and Din knew that she was back outside of that cantina once more. He decided right then that someone would have to pay for this, if not the man himself then he would hunt down anyone involved. Din couldn’t just sit here and watch this steal her light, the light that also shown on Din’s world. She held everything in her hands, the hands that were now shaking and he snaked the pointer finger of each of his hands around each of her pinkies. Squeezing rhythmically for a few seconds until he saw her coming back to him. He called her name softly, the voice modulator making it sound more gravely than he meant it.

Her eyes focused on his visor again, “I have to go into the village tomorrow to go get supplies, the left engine is still giving me trouble but once I’ve fixed it we can leave. I was thinking, I know a small krill farm on a very peaceful planet. The people there have been kind to me, we - uh you can stay and rest for a while,” he concluded his thought with a nod.

“I’ll need to leave you there in the village for a couple of days. I need to go to the more populated side of the planet and take a quick job to hold us over while we’re there.” He explained, “You’ll be safe, I can assure you,” he finished. She nodded, her hands having stopped shaking. She was fully present now, the only thing she could feel was him. It felt as though all the gravity in the universe was holding her by her pinkies, holding her from drifting away into the abyss of her mind. Keeping the waves at bay, keeping her feet firmly on the ground. It was then that she knew, it was him, he was her gravity.

————————

“Din!” She breathed out in relief as she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, the cold of his helmet a contradiction to his warm body. He removed his hands from her head and brought them to cradle her, clutching to her back as he held her as closely as possible. Her touch felt like it could keep him world-bound forever, never wanting to touch the pilots controls ever again. The gravity she held for him was palpable, and he reveled in the feeling of it whenever he could.

“You’re okay, it was a dream again, cyare. Just a dream,” he soothes lowly, “I have you, you’re safe, you’re safe,” he repeats it until he can feel her stop trembling in his grasp.

“We’re leaving in the morning right?” She looked into his visor, knowing he was looking into her eyes as he responded. Din had told her more about the small farm town he and Grogu stayed in once, how lush and beautiful it is. She was looking forward to relaxing for several days in a place that wasn’t desolate of all life. But more so, she wanted to be able to spend time with him, relax with him.

“First thing,” he said, and although she couldn’t see it, he was adorning the softest smile as he saw her smile right back at him for what felt like the first time in eternity.

#din djarin #din djarin angst #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian angst #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #the mandalorian

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