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softlyspector · 1 year

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Significant

Summary: Din has been calling you riduur for months. You finally find out what it means, and get a little more than you bargained for.

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

Word Count: ~5.1k

Warnings: pining, absolute FOOLS in love, bit of grumpy x sunshine, lil angsty, possibly incorrect lore, fluff, lots of Mando'a (translations for the Mando'a at the end)

A/N: Happy Mandalorian Eve!! This is based on a short drabble I wrote, which you can find here! It's not necessary to read it first, though of course I recommend it! The reader and Din have been traveling together for a long time, and after removing his armor in front of the reader for the first time began calling them riduur.

“Riduur.”

It may as well be your name, the way you turn at the sound of that word.

“Din,” you return, adjusting the child’s little sleeve which had fallen down past his hand.

“Are you ready?” He asks as he tilts his head to the side.

You smile and turn back to Grogu. “Dad’s impatient today, isn’t he?” The child coos up at you, lifting tiny arms, ready to be picked up. “Yeah, he is.”

“I’m not impatient,” Din grumbles lowly.

You raise a brow at that and lift Grogu into your arms. “You’re always impatient, Mando.” His head jerks to the side at your assessment.

You have to bite back a laugh. In truth, he is incredibly patient. Most of the time, and especially when it came to you and Grogu. The only time you’ve seen him truly lose his temper was with the Jawas, and really, that couldn’t be helped.

The child reaches for Din when you turn back to him, and the Mandalorian immediately holds out his arms to take him from you. You deposit the little green baby there before grabbing your shawl. “Yes, we’re ready,” you finally answer.

The baby gets tucked into the pouch at Din’s hip, before he descends the ship’s ramp out into the desert air that awaits you.

You roll your eyes gently.

Not impatient, but not entirely patient either.

You follow, wrapping the light material around your shoulders.

It’s subtle, but he does wait for you, his pace slower than if he were alone. His right elbow ticks out a fraction, and you smile before cupping your hand there. He would never ask you to take his arm, still the offer is usually there if he can accommodate it.

He relaxes a little when you fit your hand against his bicep. “Supplies only,” he reminds you, ever practical.

“Supplies only,” you agree. “Unless I see something for Grogu.”

“The child is becoming spoiled,” he complains lightly. “We won’t have enough room in the ship soon.”

You shrug and tighten your grip on his arm. You like the way he says we. So, you return with, “That’s just because our child deserves the best.”

Din’s spine straightens a fraction and his shoulders tilt back.

He’s somehow both stoic and incredibly bad at hiding his emotions. You can tell, just by the slope of his shoulders or the exact angle of the helmet or the precise way he stands or walks, exactly what and how he’s feeling.

Or, maybe you’ve just spent too much time around him.

Maybe, you just know him too well.

And right now, he’s swollen with pride. Though you don’t know if it's because you’ve complimented the way he takes care of the child or if it were something else. Something in the way you said our.

It’s not long before you reach the market, and Din sighs as soon as it comes into view. It’s much larger than the ones you normally frequent, a riot of color and sound that you both know you won’t be able to resist. The town seems to be in the midst of some kind of festival.

The smell of fried food greets you before you’ve even breached the perimeter of the town, and your mouth waters. Something better than rations awaited you there.

Din is single minded though, and you know he’ll immediately make for the most boring of the stalls and shops.

Supplies only, after all, is what you’d come for.

“Mando,” you remove your hand from his arm and he immediately halts at the loss of your touch and turns to you. “I’m going to go look around.”

He stares at you, helmet tilting down. He doesn’t like telling you no, and knows it wouldn’t matter if he did anyways. But, he worries and so it takes a moment for him to reply. “Don’t go far,” he advises. “Do you have a comlink?”

“Yes.”

“A weapon?”

You pretend to search your person, “Hm, what’s that again?”

“Riduur,” he reprimands your teasing.

That word makes the inside of your skin light up pleasantly. Riduur. If only you knew what it meant.

You’ve started to assume it means something similar to cyare or cyar'ika. But he’d had no problem telling you what those words meant. Darling and sweetheart and beloved. He’d had no problem telling you he was calling you beloved.

But he no longer calls you cyare or cyar'ika. Since the first time he’d called you riduur, the day he removed his armor in front of you for the first time, he’d solely begun calling you riduur.

Even your name is becoming a rarity from his lips.

“Udesii! Yes,” you cross your arms. “You know I took care of myself for a very long time without you and nothing ever happened. I’ll be okay.”

Din doesn’t answer, just sighs and gives a curt nod and marches off towards a shop selling medical supplies.

The dramatics of it all makes you giggle. You like teasing him, especially because he thinks he hides how flustered you make him well.

Although you enjoy traveling with the Mandalorian, alone time has become a complete rarity. You were always with Din, or watching your little green menace.

You eat your way through a couple of different stalls selling food, bundling up second and third servings to keep for Din and Grogu.

Din wouldn’t think to get anything beyond rations. Both you and the child like a little more variety, where Din treats the act of eating like a maintenance routine.

You drift past stalls hawking trinkets and jewelry, fending off the sellers as you crunch something sweet and sour you’d picked up at the last food stall, not entirely sure what it is.

Textiles are next, bolts of cloth you run your fingers over but mourn not being able to afford. Still, it's nice to browse, nice to feel normal. The Mandalorian isn’t hunting someone for once, and you aren’t trapped in the interior of the ship, stale recycled dry air burning your nostrils.

A little supply stop has become a little welcome relief. It’s giving you the chance to stretch your legs, to explore.

Still, your mind drifts back to Din, the way he calls you something he would not name to you.

You’ve searched before, in other markets, on other worlds, for the answer to your question. What does that word mean and why won’t Din tell you?

You’d tried to convince him once or twice, with gentle words whispered in his ear, when the helmet was off and your hands were pressed against his skin, the contours of his face still a mystery to you.

Once, you’d felt the skin of his cheeks go hot beneath your hands when you told him he used his tongue so prettily, couldn’t he use it to tell you what riduur meant?

He’d mumbled something else in Mando’a but had not explained himself.

You can understand most of that he says now, but because he’s the only other speaker, you have to rely on him to tell you what new words and phrases mean.

Because the Mandalorians are such an insular people, you never come across any other speakers you could ask. There are no dictionaries to Basic that you could download and peruse.

It’s frustrating, especially since the word seems to be laden with something heavy. Din says it with reverence, with a softness that doesn't cut through the rest of his words. His voice is softer when he speaks Mando’a anyways, but that word is held with a reverence on his tongue, like it’s precious.

The only other time you had heard him use that tone was when he once called Grogu ad’ika, which meant child.

You’ve almost given up on knowing, resigned to that fact that you may never know and he may never tell you.

Whatever it means, you’re sure it's important. You just don’t know why.

The market is loud, boisterous and colorful. Music floats through the air, shouts and laughter.

It’s nice, it makes you smile and you wish you’d taken the child with you because you’re sure he’d have much more fun with you than with Din picking out rolls of bandage and rations and pulse rifle cartridges if he can find someone that has some.

You stop suddenly in your tracks when you hear a conversation in a language you immediately recognize, the familiar syllables cutting through the afternoon chatter.

You spin and find two men in robes speaking gently to each other in Mando’a. Before you can stop yourself, your feet have already carried you to their table where they sit sipping cups of caf.

“Su cuy'gar,” you greet. They both look surprised, glancing at each other and then back at you. “Sorry to bother you. You speak Mando’a?”

One smiles, “Yes. Of the few outsiders that do, I think.”

“Were you foundlings?” It’s the only way, you think, that they could have learned it.

“Once,” the older of the two says. “This one learned it at a university.”

You can’t help the curiosity that burns through you, “At a university? Really?”

“Only the very barest basics. From a woman being courted by a Mandalorian,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand. “That was a long time ago. Really I learned from him.” He gestures between himself and the other man.

You shake yourself, “I’ve just never met another aruetii that does.” Let alone two of them, you think dizzily. Two outsiders who spoke Mando’a.

“And how did you learn?”

“My…” you trail off.

Your what? You aren’t sure what exactly Din is to you, or what you are to him. You never have been. He treats you like you’re more precious than beskar, yet everything between you remains undefined.

“My traveling companion. He’s a Mandalorian.” You swallow, “I wonder if you could tell me if you know what a certain word means? It’s one I’ve been curious about.” You don’t want to tell them that you’re seeking it out because it's something he calls you. That feels too private, too close to the chest. “He said it once and I’ve been trying to figure it out ever since.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“It would wound my pride. He’s already taught me so much. He overestimates my fluency.”

They laugh and the man who was once a foundling says, “Yes, ask us then.”

“Riduur,” you say, carefully pronouncing it so they don’t mistake it for another word. “Riduur,” you repeat with more confidence.

The men glance at each other, brows raised. “Well, it has several meanings,” the more grizzled of the two says, “But I suppose it's all the same in the end. Spouse would be the most overarching translation. Partner, wife, and husband all work too.”

For a moment, you can’t breathe, you’re sure your heart has come to a leaping halt in your chest. “Truly? Riduur?” You say it again, just to make sure. They laugh and nod and you decide to have your meltdown away from their table. “Well, thank you for clearing that up. Sorry again to bother you.”

You turn away from them, a roaring in your ears. Your heart stutters in your chest. Riduur. He’s been calling you his partner, his spouse, for months? That word so softly spoken to you - to tease you, to call for you, whispered to you in the dark, said over and over, more than your own name. It meant partner, spouse, wife, husband?

Something inside you lights up with pride. The shape of it is warm, firm in the clasp of your lungs. Riduur. It’s a living, breathing kind of word, one that takes up space inside you. One you’re proud to bear the weight of, the title of.

Spouse, you think, doesn’t carry the same gravitas as riduur. There’s something heavier and deeper in the word that a translation couldn’t really carry over into Basic.

You start back down the road, smiling to yourself, but only make it several paces when Din steps up beside you silently from between two stalls. “Dank farrik,” you gasp, stumbling back. “Where did you come from? You scared me.”

He doesn’t answer you, doesn’t even tilt his head towards you. You may as well have not spoken at all.

“Mando?”

Still, he doesn’t answer you.

You raise a brow but don’t say anything else as he herds you gently out of the market, desert dust swirling around your calves. Eventually, when you reach the edge of the town, he asks, “Did you find everything you need?” His voice is flat, rough.

“Yes, I got some food for you and Grogu to try. A little feast for you tonight, since it won’t hold.”

He merely grunts and you frown. “Is something wrong?” You glance over your shoulder. “Did something happen? Are we being followed?”

You glance around his legs at the baby, still securely in the brown canvas bag, who’s peering up at both of you with anxious eyes, big ears drooping.

“No.” He answers curtly.

The walk back to the ship is silent, and tense, and you aren’t sure why.

It’s only when you’re in the safety of the mouth of the ship’s ramp, with the baby in your arms, that your irritation spills over. “Are you upset with me? I didn’t wander. I stayed close and had a weapon and -,”

Din’s hands go to his hips, helm tilting at an angle as he regards you. His voice is agitated when he finally speaks. You expect him to tell you that you wandered too far, that he commed you and you hadn’t picked it up, that you’d unknowingly wandered into danger. And you expect to have to tell him once again that it's all fine, that you are fine, that you’d traveled without him for years and things always turned out alright.

Instead, he says, “You should not call yourself an aruetii. That is not what you are.”

For a moment, it doesn’t register with you what he’s talking about, that he’d clearly overheard your conversation with the Mando’a speakers, likely eavesdropped on it.

All you are, for a few seconds, is confused. “But…I am an aruetii. I am not a Mandalorian.”

Din’s shoulders go stiff at your words. “That does not make you an outsider. You…you are far from an outsider,” he growls and suddenly spins away from you, his footfalls heavy and loud when he stomps across the hull.

He climbs the ladder to the cockpit and disappears, leaving both you and the baby alone, still standing on the ramp up to the ship. “He’s angry with me,” you say in disbelief, glancing down at the child in your arms, not really understanding why. “We’ll let him cool off,” you decide, bouncing the child against your waist. “Hungry?”

The baby coos and you smile, worry biting into you as you settle with him in the mouth of the ship. The sun is setting on the sand, the air warm, casting red shadows over the world. There’s nothing around you but sand in any direction you glance, aside from the town from which you’d come on the horizon.

In the distance, fireworks from the town explode in the sky. You point them out to Grogu, gently feeding him bites of food that you’d gotten at the market. He makes a sound that you suppose is a giggle, big eyes focused on the colors dissipating in the sky. He holds a tiny hand up, like he’d like it to fly to him.

You curl a hand over his. “None of that,” you say with a laugh. “Those are meant for the stars, not you.”

He goes back to eating, already distracted.

A weight settles over your chest.

If Din heard you call yourself aruetii then he knows that you now know what riduur means.

Maybe that was the true source of his irritation, that you’d gone behind his back to figure out what it meant when he clearly hadn’t wanted you to know.

You rub the tip of Grogu’s ear between your fingers and sigh.

Any warm feelings you’d had are gone.

Riduur.

He’s been calling you that for months. But he hadn’t wanted you to know that he was calling you his partner. For some reason it stings.

The Mandalorian is not cruel, not the type to play with another’s feelings. But, nonetheless, it feels like he might have been. Teasing you in a way you couldn’t begin to guess at. Or, like he could pretend without actually attaching himself to you, and you’d be none the wiser.

You shake those thoughts away, listening to the music echoing over the sands.

When Grogu falls asleep and the sun is just disappearing behind the horizon, you secure the ramp of the ship and carry the baby up into the cockpit.

Din sits silently in the pilot’s chair, and doesn’t look at you as you tuck the child into the floating pod.

You fidget with his blanket, not sure what to say.

“I’m sorry,” he breaks the silence first. “Ni ceta.”

“Din,” you perch next to him in the co-pilot’s seat. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gone poking around where I don’t belong. I’m sorry.”

His head tilts toward you, the visor impenetrable. You swallow when he doesn’t answer, an inexplicable lump forming in the back of your throat. “Don’t belong?”

“I shouldn’t have asked them what riduur meant. You didn’t want me to know.”

Din stands and holds out a hand to you. You take it carefully and let him pull you to your feet. “That is not why I-,” he stops. “Do you really not know?”

“Know what?”

“I should have been…honest about the name I’ve given you.” He tilts his head and releases your hands. “I’m upset because-,” the Mandalorian pauses and seems to consider his next words for a long moment. Finally, he sighs and simply repeats, “You’re not an aruetii. By definition you can’t be.”

You stare at him for a long moment, before shaking your head. “I don’t understand.”

He huffs, helm ticking to the side again. “Would you call Grogu an outsider?”

“Of course not,” you answer, horrified. “No.”

“And why is that? He’s not a Mandalorian either.”

You don’t have to think about it, shaking your head before he’s even finished speaking. “He’s your child.”

Din steps forward, close to you, but doesn’t say anything. “Our child,” he corrects eventually. “I am upset because you don’t seem to know you are a part of our clan. Even after knowing what I’ve been calling you. Riduur, ner riduur, for months. You still don’t know.”

Oh. Oh.

“Osi'kyr,” you murmur softly. “How could I know that, Din?”

He stands silent and still before you, so still you aren’t sure he’s breathing. “I thought it was clear,” he says stiffly. “I thought it was clear I was courting you.”

Something pleasantly warm settles in among your heart and lungs. “Maybe you should explain your customs to me more thoroughly,” you joke lightly.

He doesn’t laugh, shoulders tense, hands curled in anxious fists.

“So why not tell me what the word means?” It seems a bit past courting to you, to call someone riduur. It seems to you he’s already chosen you.

He shifts from foot to foot, the movement somehow laden with vulnerability and worry. “If you did not…want the same - I’m not sure I could bear that.”

You stare at him, not entirely sure what to say to that. “So, what,” you start, “you expected me to one day just realize you considered me your-,”

“I would have told you,” he interrupts quickly. “One day.”

“Told me-,”

“What riduur means,” he corrects. “And asked if you’d like to be that.” Din takes your hands again, “Just know that you are part of this clan, whatever your answer is.” His voice is so sincere, it breaks your heart a little. “Whether you want to be attached to me or not, you have a place in this clan. You are not an aruetii.”

You tilt your head at the same time he does, the nonverbal cues you both habit in reflecting between you. “I’m just a bit confused. Was that your idea of a proposal?” You smile so he knows you’re teasing him.

Din gives a long suffering sigh. “Mandalorians do not propose.”

“Oh. So what do you do then?” You lift a brow, sliding your hands to his wrists so you can work on tugging one glove off at a time.

“We make an agreement,” he says, not trying to stop you. His voice is hoarse. “We make vows.”

You don’t look up, tucking the gloves in your belt before tracing your fingers along the veins in his wrists, the lines of his palms. “Oh. And did you make vows to me that I wasn’t aware of?”

You’re still joking, but Din takes your words to heart. He shakes one hand loose from yours and presses it beneath your jaw, tipping your head gently back. “I did. I make vows to you everyday.”

All the air seems to get sucked out of the ship. You gape at him, mouth opening and closing without any sound coming out as you struggle to find words. He chuckles, low and breathy beneath the helmet. You imagine he must be smiling. “Now you see how you make me feel. Like I can’t breathe.”

You finally manage to take a breath, lifting your chin away from his fingers, threads of embarrassment beating under your skin at his teasing. “You could have told me, you know.”

“It was too large a risk. I wouldn’t risk you.”

Maybe you should hesitate in your next words.

But you don’t.

You’ve never been surer in something.

“Din,” you step close to him. “I would take those vows.”

“They…they are heavy vows. Not meant to be taken lightly. They’re bonding vows.”

He thinks you don’t get it, that you still don’t understand. “I understand what kind of vows they are. What are the vows?” You step even closer, the heat of his body seeping into yours.

He smells like sun, like spices from the market and oil on beskar. It makes you dizzy, the usual scent of him is much cooler. Evergreen and pine.

The cockpit is dark, the very last dregs of light on the horizon gone. The contours of the helm are shadowed, the flicker of lights from the control panels reflecting in blinking lights over the visor.

There is no hesitation in his voice when he finally speaks.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

You mouth the words, doing your best to translate them.

But he’s spoken too quickly, and you only understand part of it. He waits for you to ask for him to translate, giving you a moment to attempt it instead of immediately telling you.

“I only understand part…We are one together and-,”

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors,” he says easily. “We are - we are all of those things already. I have kept the promise I made.”

Your throat is dry, and you can’t think about how that’s true. “We’re raising warriors?” You attempt a joke.

“Would you not call the child a warrior?”

“I would,” you agree. “I would also still take those vows, now knowing their meaning.”

There’s a long pause in which you can feel the Mandalorian’s stare. His gaze is intense, assessing, hot against your skin. You patiently look back, waiting. “You don’t have to.”

“You think I don’t want to.”

He huffs, “I…don’t want you to believe you have to make vows to me. You are a part of our clan no matter what.”

“Would you still call me riduur?”

“If you allowed it,” he takes a breath. “Yes.”

The lip of the helm drifts up and you can sense he’s no longer looking at you, embarrassed. “Din.” His head snaps back down. “I know I am not an outsider.” You wait for him to digest those words. “I know this is my clan now. I still would like to make these vows to you.”

He reaches up and presses his palms to either side of your jaw, the crown of the helmet pressing softly against your forehead for just a moment when he dips his head. “If you’re sure, repeat after me. We’ll say them together.”

“Elek,” you agree.

“Mhi solus tome,” he starts, reverence and disbelief lodged in his voice.

In the distance, more fireworks explode in the sky. The colors reflect in the glass of the ship’s front window, sparking over the reflective helmet. “Mhi solus tome,” you say slowly, careful to pronounce each word exactly right.

You’d never imagined yourself as someone who would get married, and certainly not like this.

But that was before you knew Din. And all this feels to you is right. It’s both sudden and not.

This was meant to happen. All your years with the Mandalorian lead towards this.

You repeat the rest of the vows after him, slow and deliberate.

When the final syllable rolls off your tongue, a muted kind of joy overcomes you. You’ve been a part of it for a long time, but you feel it now, the belonging to a clan and people.

Din releases you and leans back. His chest rises and falls quickly.

You close your eyes and reach for the edge of his helmet.

You want to kiss him at the very least.

But when your fingers skim over the release, he captures your wrists in one hand. You let go and Din reaches up with his opposite hand to take it off himself.

You expect him to kiss you right away, but he doesn’t. You can only feel the lingering touch of his gaze.

“Open your eyes.”

“What? No-,” you begin to protest.

“Yes. You can now, riduur.” The word rumbles out of him proudly, heavy in his mouth.

You tilt your head and frown. “Are you-,”

“This is the Way.” His voice warbles, just a little.

“Are you sure?” You get the entire question out this time.

Now it’s his turn to tease you. “No,” he says dryly. “I’ll change my mind after you open your eyes.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan. “You’re very funny.”

“Open them.”

You think you might be more nervous than him to see his face. You honestly never thought you would get to, and you had long ago made peace with that. It didn’t matter to you what he looked like, you knew his heart and that was more than enough.

You’ve tried to picture him before, from tracing your fingers over his face, but the image is only half formed and without detail. It felt wrong, somehow, too, to try to picture the face of someone who deliberately hid it.

Slowly, you peek your eyes open at him. Whatever you had pictured is nothing compared to the man you find yourself gazing at.

A sense of vertigo sweeps through you, because it's almost like looking at a stranger.

You have to resist the urge, for just a moment, to tear yourself away from him.

His hair is darker in color than you thought it would be, but just as feathery and lightly curled as you imagined. Din’s eyes are dark, a deep brown that you’d like to spend lifetimes memorizing, falling inside. You were right too, from your explorations of his face with your hands, about the shape of his nose, his mustache, the patchy beard. You’d pictured his eyes all wrong, the shape of jaw.

One thing you couldn’t have guessed at is the naked expressiveness in his eyes.

It makes sense though, he’s spent a lifetime without the need to school his features into anything other than exactly what he was feeling.

You wonder how many times he’s looked at you with such longing, and you never knew.

He says your name, a question mark tagged onto the end of it, his voice wrecked and strange without the modulator muffling his voice.

The sound of his voice rips the upside down feeling away. It’s his voice, it’s him. Not some handsome stranger.

Your eyes flit up from where your gaze had lingered on his lips, the pink shape of his mouth against golden skin. “I was right.”

He frowns, eyes soft and worried. It shocks you again, just how open his emotions read in his eyes. “About what?”

“I knew you were pretty. You are pretty,” you tease, pressing yourself against him, the hard contours of him biting into you. You fist your hands into the fabric at his sides. “Mesh’la.”

Din frowns at you. “I told you that means beautiful, didn’t I?” His voice is playful and doesn’t match his expression.

You nod and don’t answer, reaching up to cup your hand against his cheek. Din’s arm settles easily around your waist, dragging you closer, the weight of his helm in his hand heavy against your hip. Normally, you’d let him close the distance between you but you can’t quite manage to let him now, gazing instead at the planes of his face. “Mesh’la,” you tell him. “Ner riduur.”

“That’s my line.”

“Not anymore,” you tease. “Husband.”

You tip your chin into his and wait for him to meet you there.

He gives a slight smile before leaning into you. “Not husband. Riduur.”

“Right,” you agree, because really, it isn’t quite the same. It can’t be. “Ner riduur.”

The kiss lingers long on your lips. He’s savoring you, a warm passion that doesn’t quite extend into heat. Din’s tongue meets yours briefly, the groan it tugs from his mouth sending flashes of lightning all the way down to your toes.

The fireworks outside are no rival for the feelings clawing up the back of your throat.

You want to tell him you love him, but you think he already knows.

He breaks away to set his helmet down. When he turns back to you, his hands roam over you, free in their movement, tugging at the band of your trousers.

You can’t stop staring at him, suddenly overwhelmed, drinking in the sight of him, the naked expression of him, everything he’s thinking spread over his face like a well loved language.

All you’d wanted was to know the name he gifted you, instead - this.

You map your hand over his face, tracing the divot between his brows, the curve of one sharp cheekbone. “I never thought I would see your face,” you whisper.

Those soft, vulnerable eyes meet yours, arm wrapping around you again, as his bare forehead presses to yours, “And I always knew you would.”

Thank you for reading! Please let me know your thoughts!

If you want more of Din and his riduur, Significant-verse drabbles can be found here!

Translations:

Riduur - spouse, partner, wife, husband

Ner riduur - my spouse, partner, wife, husband

Cyare - beloved

Cyar'ika - darling, sweetheart

Udesii - Relax, take it easy

Ad’ika - little one, baby

Su cuy'gar - Hello

Aruetii - outsider, foreigner, traitor

Ni ceta - an apology, rare

Osi'kyr - exclamation of surprise

Elek - yes

Mesh’la - beautiful

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #significant verse

10K notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 2 months

Note

grumpy beefy mando falling for soft!reader in her “grandma era” - all she wants to do is crochet, bake and frolic around the galaxy with mando and grogu 🫶🏽

"He doesn't like hats."

You glance up at Din from where you're testing a length of crocheted stitches beneath Grogu's chin, ensuring that the hat inspired by the local flora of the forest planet you've found shelter on won't fall off if he gets too rigorous in his play.

Grogu coos beneath the flower hat, but whether it's in agreement or protest you can't tell.

"He likes this one," You decide, when the little green terror before you doesn't fight as you maneuver his ears through their designated slots, "And he doesn't have to wear it if he doesn't want to."

Your fingers slip the little white button through the slot you've left in the band, and the hat is secured around Grogu's chin; the cutest little flower you ever did see.

"Oh, honey," You gush, scooping the child up and tucking him into your arms, "You wanna see your hat? C'mere, let's look."

You crouch in front of the tree stump that Din has settled on, holding Grogu up to the man's beskar chest plate. It's freshly polished, but not completely reflective, so at the right angle, Grogu catches a blurry, slightly distorted version of himself in a very pink hat.

His legs are still too small to kick in excitement, but his arms pick up the slack, flapping about while copious amounts of baby babble streams from his mouth. Evidently he's pleased with your handiwork.

Din stays silent while he offers his armor up for Grogu's viewing pleasure, but the child's hands soon find the soft strap beneath his chin and tug.

"I told you he didn't like hats..." Din murmurs, not to be cruel, but to fill empty space in the air when your shoulders deflate slightly.

"I thought he'd like it if it was softer," You hum sadly, helping Grogu take the button out of its clasp so that he can tug the hat off of his head, "I just figured he didn't like the helmet you gave him because it was uncomfortable."

As soon as you've freed Grogu from the confines of his flowery prison his hands slap against the shiny metal of Din's armor. He takes the child out of your hands but Grogu keeps his hat tightly clutched in his fist, and, with valiant effort, pushes the hat into Din's helmet, insistently cooing something that sounds suspiciously like buir.

Your giddiness returns, and you circle Din like a hawk, "Oh, you want your buir to wear it? Let's see," Amidst Din's protests you balance the too-small cap on his helmet, and he stills if only to save the hat from slipping and dying a muddy death on the ground below.

"It doesn't fit me." He grumbles, body stiff as he keeps it balanced on his head. Grogu seems pleased with his buir's new headpiece, squealing and showing off his newly-emerged teeth in a grin.

"I'll make you a matching one!" You declare, snatching the hat off of his helmet to give him the freedom of movement again, "Grogu, baby, what color should Din's be?"

"Bah!" Grogu decides, and your steps still where you're racing back towards your shelter.

"Uh... how about purple?" You suggest, and another resounding 'Bah.' is all the encouragement you need.

661 notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 5 months

Text

Vivid {Mando x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: SEX POLLEN, dubious consent, fuck or die, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69, face sitting, blindfolds, sex in the dark, vaginal sex, rough sex, overstimulation, cream pie, cum eating, masturbation

Comments: A chance encounter in the canyon just beyond Din's little house on Nevarro leads to a sticky situation. A vivid pink flower, a powerful aphrodisiac, and a need to fuck has Mando bringing you home.

Co-written with @pedropascalsx

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

The changes around Nevarro are….nice. The little house that was deeded to Din is far enough away from town that he doesn’t feel crowded, yet it’s close enough that he can walk Grogu to the little school that he had enrolled him in. His journeys needed to include more socialization than bounty hunters, killer droids and Mandalorians. He needed to be able to move throughout many different cultures respectfully and what better place to learn than school?

Din’s own education happened in the Fighting Corps. Effective, but he had a mind to raise his adoptive son and apprentice better than his own teacher had. Especially since Grogu had an advantage that he had never wielded, the force.

“No Grogu,” Din shakes his head and sighs softly as the fifty year old baby tries once again to float his little school pack off the shelf to where he is sitting. Wanting to go to school, even though it’s the weekend. “There is no school today.”

****

It had been a long day so far, you’d run your usual errands and finished a few tasks around your home. A few of the children in your class had been requesting some more painting time during the week, and never one to dim anyone’s excitement for the arts, you couldn’t say no.

You like to make sure that art class is just as educational as it is fun, so you grabbed your book of plants and flowers and got ready to make your way out of town to collect and pick some plants and flowers for the kids to paint and learn to identify.

The cool breeze was welcomed as you began your trip, a wicker basket hanging comfortably from the crook of your elbow as you made your way through the town, greeting everyone politely and with a warm smile as you did so.

You like Nevarro. Especially as of recent, the town was much friendlier and a new sense of community had fallen across the planet.

After a brief chat with one of your overexcited students and his parents you continued your walk while nibbling on some fresh fruit from a stall you had passed.

The kid is passed out in the little bed that Din had bought for him, the Mandalorian steps out of the house, striding off towards the canyon. He needs to tune his blaster, having replaced the plasma cartridge earlier. The domesticity is unusual, but he likes it, a set schedule and a home to make meals in. It’s oddly appealing, even though he does often wonder how the covert is doing on Mandalore.

After a nice breezy walk, your basket is almost full, you’ve picked multiple flowers and plants for the children to paint and learn about. The canyon is quiet, peaceful, the only sound coming from the soft breeze shaking the trees and the occasional twitter from the out of sight creatures.

You’re just about to leave and make your way back home, before it catches your eye and steals your attention. A vivid shade of pink and standing alone. The petals are perfectly uniform and it’s the most perfect looking flower that you’ve ever seen.

Din sighs, seeing someone in the canyon ahead of him. There wouldn’t be any practice unless the person was just leaving. Making him huff under his helmet and hope that it wasn’t someone who is looking for trouble.

You kneel down in front of the flower, appreciating its beauty before reaching into your basket and pulling out your holopad. Unable to resist taking a few snaps of the gorgeous flower.

Zooming in on the photo you notice a figure in the background that you immediately recognise as the father of Grogu - the new and unbelievably adorable little green foundling in your class.

You place your holopad back in your basket, figuring he’ll want some space. He’s polite, not much of a talker but there’s something about him that’s… intense. The kind of intenseness that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand upright and makes that magic button downstairs pulse uncontrollably until it gets the attention it deserves.

You gently snip the bottom of the stalk and gently scoop up the flower in your hands, inhaling its gorgeous and intoxicating scent and letting it flood your senses.

And then it hits you.

Walking closer, he recognizes that it’s Grogu’s teacher. You are a newcomer to Nevarro, at least, you hadn’t been here when it was a bounty hunter’s hive. One of the more gentle settlers, and it doesn’t hurt that besides him, you are Grogu’s favorite person.

He smiles slightly under his helmet, wondering what you are doing out here in the canyon, although he spies the basket on your arm.

The effect is immediate, within seconds fire is coursing through your veins and pain meets a new type of pleasure in the most delicious way.

Every nerve ending in your body is set alight, and the pleasure center in your brain is working overtime. Arousal floods your core, your nipples harden and your clit is pulsing with desperate need out of nowhere.

You start to whimper as your legs threaten to fail beneath you, you’re still kneeling but you feel as though you’re about to collapse in a heap on the floor. The sounds that leave your mouth are nothing short of filthy, and you become more and more aware of your need for something to quench the flames that are burning stronger with every passing second.

Seeing you stumble, Din rushes forward. Hand on his blaster as he tilts his head up, searching for danger. Why else would a healthy woman nearly collapse? “Hey! Hey, get down!”

“The flower,” you say with a breathy moan, “I think it’s the flower.”

He’s already reached your side, grabbing you and your basket and dragging you behind a craggy outcrop in the canyon, getting you to cover. Unaware of your moaned words, they were too unintelligible. The pollen from the flower drifts under his helmet, not pressurized against contaminants and floods his nostrils in a heady rush.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you babble, as you start to pull on the collar of your dress. The material feels much too constricting and far too warm despite the cool breeze.

“Dank ferik.” Din hisses, his own armor suddenly feeling as if it weighs more than the great forge on Mandalore. “It’s- it’s the pollen.” He croaks out, slapping the basket out of your hand, but he knows it’s too late.

“What’s w-wrong with the pollen?” You gasp out, unsure why your clothes feel heavy and your body is trembling uncontrollably. Your need to be touched now is desperate.

“It’s an aphrodisiac.” He grunts, cock already hardening and tenting the fabric of his flight suit. “It- it lasts for hours and-“ His eyes under his helmet widen as he remembers one particular trait of this toxic flower.

“And?” You ask frantically, “And what?”

“Your heart explodes if you don’t- uh, have sex.” His hand slaps against the rock wall of the canyon and he groans, thinking about an activity that he has long denied himself. He’s been too busy with the kid to seek out any companionship, even for a night.

“What?” You say with a pained laugh, “How is that -fuuuuck- how is that even possible?” The lace from your bra rubs painfully against your hardened peaks and you have to physically fight the urge to free yourself of your dress and bra.

He doesn’t fucking know, but the digital display in his helmet is broadcasting that fact as he looks down at the flower. “What the fuck were you doing with it?” He demands, trying to think about something other than pushing you against the rocks and burying himself in your cunt.

“I was just.. I’m picking flowers for the kids to paint,” you say between labored breaths, “Please, do something. It fucking hurts.” You start to beg, unsure what can be done.

He hadn’t anticipated that response. Groaning, he shakes his head. Knowing that a quick fuck in the canyon isn’t going to do it. Plus it’s too exposed out here. “Hold on to me.” He orders, stumbling next to you and wrapping his arm around your back before he kicks on his Rising Phoenix.

You squeal with shock as you’re shot upwards into the deep blue sky, your arms wrapping so tightly around The Mandalorian that it hurts.

Din’s groans are covered by the sounds of the jetpack and the wind. His cock is throbbing and leaking into the flight suit and he knows you have to be feeling worse. Your exposure was vastly greater than his own.

He senses the moment that the pain becomes too much for you to bear, his arms wrapping even tighter around you as you start to lose your grip. Pain shoots throughout your body as you whimper in his arms.

“We-it’s- it’s close.” He groans, his own body used to pain although he’s never experienced an arousal that might override all his senses like this before. All he can think about is stripping you down, burying himself in your body over and over until relief is finally achieved.

“I can’t hold on much longer,” you gasp, as the aching between your thighs grows stronger and more uncomfortable.

The outline of his small cabin appears and it can’t be a second sooner. His entire body is tense and his jetpack is nearly sputtering as it sets down on the ground in front of the remote dwelling. His star-fighter is parked off to the side and he is grateful that the baby is still asleep in his own little room.

His grip on you stays firm as you reach the ground, and he gently pulls you into his cabin. Spinning you around he presses you up against the door and gently palms your tit with his gloved hands.

“Tell me-“ Din groans and bites his lip under his helmet. “Dank ferik, tell me I can fuck you, Mesh’la.” He begs.

“You can fuck me,” you say with a moan as you press yourself up against him, desperate to feel him inside of you.

His head turns towards the door where Grogu is sleeping, relieved to find it still closed and he steps back to drag you away from the wall. “My room.” He demands, knowing the kid didn’t need to wake up and see anything.

“Yes, sir,” you say as you follow him on shaky legs into the room. Your clothes feel heavy against your skin, but you wait for his command to remove them. Standby patiently but writhing in discomfort as he walks towards you. “I need to take my dress off,” you say, as the material irritates your skin.

“Take it off.” He knows he will rip your dress if it touches it and he needs to get out of his armor. It’s chafing his skin and he’s overheating.

You immediately unzip the dress and let it fall to the floor, before working on your bra and panties. “Need you so badly,” you whine and you climb down onto the bed, and spread your legs. Dipping your fingers into your entrance and spreading some of your arousing through your folds and circling your clit.

“Dank ferik.” The armor clanks to the floor carelessly. Unable to treat it as reverently as he normally does. Fingers fumbling as his cock throbs, visor trained on your cunt.

“Hurry,” you beg, as you circle your clit faster, you’re soaked enough for him to slide right in with little resistance. “Am I allowed to touch you?” You ask as you continue working your clit, you know a little about Mandalorian creed but you’ve never fucked one before and want to make sure you’re respectful and you don’t cross any boundaries.

“I-I’m going to turn out the lights.” He groans, wanting to see you, touch you. And have you touching him. “And I need to blindfold you.”

“Whatever you need,” you say, as you turn your head so he can blindfold you. “I won’t touch you unless you explicitly tell me where it’s okay, and I promise the blindfold will stay on until you take it off.”

“You can touch me.” He is panting as he ties the blindfold and quickly strips out of the flightsuit and his boots. Even though he is burning, he hesitates when reaching for his helmet.

You reach out and let your fingers run across his chest, “Fuck,” you say, as your pussy clenches around nothing, “Want you to fuck me so badly, but I really wanna suck your cock first, Mando. I want to rub my little pussy while you fuck my throat.”

“No.” He chokes out, knowing that your body is screaming for release worse than his own is. It makes the decision easy and the click of the locks is accompanied by a slight hiss as he lifts the helmet off his head and it clatters to the ground.

“Oh,” you say, clearly disappointed but still rubbing your clit as fast as you can and chasing your release. “How do you want me?”

Din knocks your hand away and climbs up on the bed to pull you up and spin you around. A lifetime of training makes picking you up easy and he flips you onto your stomach on his chest. “Suck my cock and I’ll lick you.” He rasps out, his voice unmodulated and clear. “Never done it, but I want to. You need it.”

The sound of his voice is even sexier when unmodulated. Raspy and rough. Each word going straight to your pussy. “Yes, sir,” you say as you feel around and finally get his cock in your hand. It’s thick, veiny and dripping in pre-cum, the room is dark enough and the blindfold is opaque enough that you can’t see it but it feels glorious in your hands. You give him a teasing lick, lapping up all the pre-cum before taking the tip of him in your mouth.

Din groans, his gloveless hands reaching for your hips and his entire body shudders when he realizes that it’s full skin to skin contact. Dragging you back and immediately plunging his tongue inside your quivering and leaking cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” you choke out as you pull off his cock, loving the dexterous heat of his tongue. You take him back into your mouth and hollow your cheeks, your moans vibrating against his cock as he eats your pussy. For someone who said he’d never done this before he’s unbelievably skilled, eating you with such vigor that after a few minutes you can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.

There have been a lot of holo vids around oral sex in his past, learning and aching to try the things that he saw. Although he’s not got a forked tongue like some species, nor one as long, he still grunts in pleasure as you moan loudly around his cock. Rocking your hips back to taste you more, getting deeper into your cunt.

“Gonna cum,” you croak out around him, before swirling your tongue around the tip of him and pulling away before cumming with a loud whimper of the only name you know for him, “Fuck, Mando!’

Din nearly whimpers at the loss of your mouth but the sweetness of your cum makes up for it. Soaking his face like he’s never experienced before. His cock throbs and he pulls away. “Close.” He chokes out, knowing he’s going to cum from this alone.

You take him back into your mouth and double down on your efforts, sucking him harder and licking your tongue around him. You take him as deep as you can, working the bottom of his shaft with your hands, saliva dripping everywhere as you work him towards his high. Needing to feel his cock twitch and start to flood your mouth with his cum.

It doesn't take him but a few more seconds when your mouth wraps back around him for Din to start to cum. Groaning out your name harshly, it's the only warning you get when he shoots a hot rope of cum down your throat, immediately followed by another.

You swallow around him, humming at the rich yet salty taste of him. Not letting a single drop go to waste, eagerly awaiting each burst as your mouth milks him dry. He’s delicious, salty and musky and you want more. You keep sucking until he orders you to stop and you slowly pull off of him with a groan.

Even though he's cum, his body still aches, his cock is still hard and he knows you aren't satisfied either. "My tongue or my cock in your cunt this time?" He pants out, needing to know where to bury his cock again.

“Your cock, please,” you beg as you lift off of him, “Do you want me to ride you, Sir?”

"For now." He knows you might need him desperately and he wants to see how much you are willing to grind on him for his cock.

His harsh tone makes your chest clench, but you push away that feeling and position yourself over him, slowly sinking down on this thick cock and moaning loudly as he stretches you open. His cock fills you entirely, your walls flutter and hug his cock as you get used to the delicious stinging from how stretched out you are from him. You start rocking your hips slowly, before increasing your pace, grinding down on him over and over. Desperate moans slipping through your plush lips as a wave of euphoria floods through you.

The darkness is just enough that he can see you move. A shadow and he wishes that he could turn the lights back on but he can't risk your blindfold coming loose. It's barely a loophole and technicality of the creed, but you can't see him. Not unless you were going to bind yourself to him.

“You feel so good,” you choke out, as you rock your hips a little faster. “So big. So thick.” You murmur again and again as your pace quickens, chasing a high and feeling a desperate need to have him cum hard and paint your walls with his delicious cum.

"Fuck." Din chokes out, puffing up at the praise. It's better than the moans with his cock in your mouth and he palms your tits, plucking at them and pinching your nipples while you bounce on his length.

“Tell me what you need,” you moan, “Fast or slow? Need you to feel good, baby, want to feel this cock fill me up.”

Din curses again. "Fuck, fast." He hisses, squeezing your tits harshly. "Fucking ride me hard."

You do as he commands, increasing your pace and bouncing up and down on him as fast as you can, moaning in pleasure as he hits that spot inside of you. Your hands cover his as he squeezes your tits, holding on tightly as he starts to fuck up into you, matching your pace with his own.

The loud sounds of sex fill his room. His hips snapping up as you bounce down on his cock. Both of you moaning and cursing greedily as the fire of the pollen rages in your systems. He knows you’re craven for his cum, the only thing that can soothe the effects of the flower.

You reach down and start to circle your clit, as you keep the same pace, wanting to clamp down around him and hear those delicious groans from him. “You’re incredible,” you pant as you near your high, circling your clit with perfect precision as he fucks up against nirvana inside of you. “Gonna cum,” you warn, before pleasure washes over you and squeeze his cock like a vice. Yelling his name as you cum, hard.

Letting go of your tits, he grabs your hips again and starts the hammer up into you. His hold on your body is the only thing keeping you from being thrown up into the air. Harsh punches of his cock that hit deep and wrench a cry out of you every time he hits your cervix, he can’t even care if it hurts you because you gush another wave of heat around him.

“Fuck,” you choke out, as he pushes the air from your lungs with every thrust. You’ve never been fucked like this before, but it’s addicting, you crave more and more from him with each harsh thrust of his hips. “Fill me up,” you beg, each word more strained as his pace quickly overwhelms you.

His arms wrap around you and he’s thrusting up into you like you are his personal fuck toy. “Fuck, fuck, gonna, fuck- fill you up.” He promises, grunting out a word every time he buries his cock into your spasming cunt. One harsh thrust later and a harsh bark of your name, he delivers on that promise. Cumming just as hard and as much as when he came down your throat only minutes before.

Falling forward onto him your face nuzzles into the crook of his neck, he’s still hard and twitching inside of you but a wave of exhaustion starts to make an appearance. You pant into his warm skin, arms tightly wrapped around him and you can’t ignore how tense he is. You’re unsure if you’ve crossed a line, but you need to catch your breath again before you’re able to move off of him and ask how he wants you next.

Din is tense from how close you are to his face. It’s been so long but you don’t reach up to touch it. Your arms around his shoulders and your face tucked into his neck. He rolls you onto your back and starts to rock into you again. Knowing that the night isn’t over by a long shot.

You moan as he rocks into you, his stamina clearly better than your own as you attempt to gather up some strength. But he seems content to pick up the slack as your pussy flutters around him and your walls hug him tight. “Are you allowed to kiss me?” You ask, barely above a whisper as his hips snap forward.

Din groans and he nods even though you can’t see him. “Can I?” He breathes above your lips. He’s never kissed before and right now as he fucking you both through a dangerous exposure to sex pollen seem to be a good time to experience it.

“Yes, please.” You plead softly, wanting to taste his lips despite not knowing what they look like. Not caring at all that you have no idea what he looks like.

Permission granted, he crushes his lips to your in a messy kiss. Much less coordinated than when he licked into you, he had avoided kissing holo vids because he had felt jealous.

You giggle a little at the way he smashes his lips against yours, before lightly touching his chin and taking the lead. Licking his bottom lip gently until he parts his lips enough for you to slip your tongue inside and press it against his own. It doesn’t take long until he’s mastering the art and taking control, his lips now refusing to part from yours as he rocks his hips into you. Kissing you just as hard as he fucks you, changing up the pace every now and then and swallowing your moans of delight.

Groaning into your mouth is like ambrosia. You are the best thing he’s ever tasted and he can’t get enough. His cock steadily fills you with strokes and his tongue mimics the motion into your mouth as he pants his pleasure loudly.

With a few more strokes of his cock, he has you clamping down around him and crying out the name you know him by in pleasure. The stuttering of his hips as your pussy acts like a vice around him makes him grunt your name before pulling you in for another breathtaking kiss. The effects of the pollen start to lessen but the effects of him growing stronger. Everything about him is consuming, his scent, the power he commands and with every snap of his hips and grunt of your name; you want more and more.

Din can barely rock his hips but the clenching and squeezing of your cunt pushes him over the edge. This time he is moaning your name into your mouth while pushing more cum into your pussy. Sliding down your cheeks and soaking his bed underneath you in growing puddle.

“Fuck, Mando,” you say against his lips, with a bright smile. “Picking that flower was the best decision I've made in months.” You love the way he twitches inside of you, your walls still hugging him tightly as he groans against your mouth. You gently run your hand up and down his back as he works on catching his breath.

“Din.” There are plenty of people who know his name now and he doesn’t see why you shouldn’t. Given that he had just fucked the life out of you and still had a few more rounds in him before the pollen is completely gone. “My name. It’s Din.”

“Din,” you repeat softly, “I like that. Din.” You press a light kiss to his lips before repeating his name a few more times. “Do you think I can jerk you off next? My pussy isn’t used to being fucked this good. Give her a little break before you fill her up again?”

“Do you want my mouth again?” He asks, knowing you might still need something. “I can just suck on your clit.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, “I know you said that was the first time you did it, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it again if you don’t want.”

“I liked it.” Din twitches inside you as he admits that and kisses you again. “Unless you didn’t like it?”

“I loved it,” you giggle, “Can’t believe that was the first time you’ve done it. Best oral I’ve ever had.”

“Good.” He grunts happily. “Then I’ll do it again.” He pulls out of you and rolls onto his back.

“You want me to sit on your face and I can jerk you off as you eat my pussy, baby?”

“Fuck yes.” Din groans. “Want to taste your cunt filled with my cum.”

“Fuck,” you moan at his filth, “Yes, sir.” He helps you position over his face, and you hover a few inches above his mouth before reaching down and gripping his cock. Giving it a few languid strokes before finding a pace that has him groaning. “I bet you’ve got a gorgeous cock, Din, I can feel how good it is. But fuck. It’s so thick and long and those veins… I.. fuck. It’s so perfect.” You tell him before he pulls you down and starts to eat your pussy like a man starved. You work his cock like it’s the most important job in the work, each flick of your wrist designed to make him groan and grunt with pure pleasure. “Do you like that? Do you like me stroking your cock while it’s still dripping with my cum, Din?”

He huffs, nodding his head as he continues to lick and taste both of you combined. He’d love it if you sucked his cock again but your hand is good too. Tilting your hips up, he finds your clit and sucks it into his mouth.

“Fuck, Din,” you yell out as he sucks on your clit, “Maker- I could get used to this.” You squeeze his cock a little harder, changing the pace from fast to slow. Wiping your thumb across the tip and gathering up the pre-cum to taste on your fingers. He groans as you let him, bringing your fingers up to mouth and licking them clean before gripping his cock again. “Going to suck your cock again after this, you taste so good, baby.”

Din groans and sucks on your clit harder, pushing his tongue against it and releasing it to lick it and suck it back into his mouth to start the entire process over again. He could get used to this too. Eating your pussy every night and having you on his cock.

“Diiiiiiinnnnnn,” you moan, over and over as he works magic on your clit. You stroke his cock over and over as his hips stutter, “Gonna c-cum.”

He pulls away just to gasp out, “me too.” Before he’s reattaching his lips to your clit like a hungry sucker fish.

“Din, Din, Din,” you chant his name over and over like a sacred prayer, pumping his cock until he’s spurting out thick ropes of cum, cum that you’ve desperate to scoop up and lick from your fingers. You feel your pussy clench down around nothing as your orgasm pulses through you, soaking his face with your arousal as he continues his delicious assault on your bundle of nerves.

You stopped stroking his cock, too focused on your own pleasure but you squeeze him. Making him pulse as his balls draw up against his body again.

“Din,” you pant one last time, as he grunts beneath you. You feel his cock twitching in your hands, clearly desperate for more release, and you resume your strokes. Milking him free of his pleasure and loving the way it pants your skin. Your fingers, wrists and arms are covered in his cum. All of it begging to be licked clean.

Letting go of your clit, Din groans your name as you stroke his cock and milk it of every drop of his release.

The second he stops cumming, you gently let it go and start cleaning it from your skin. Moaning at the taste and humming in content as you swallow it all down. “You taste delicious, Din.”

His cock is still hard but he’s not desperate to be inside you. The fire in his veins nearly burned away and it will only take once more before it’s all done. “You taste good, Mesh’la.” He praises roughly. “Could taste you everyday and be a happy man.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say with a giggle. “It’s wearing off, I think, it doesn’t burn as badly but I think I can go again. You wanna fuck my mouth or my pussy this time, baby?”

“Is your pussy too sore?” He asks, knowing he’s been rough with it.

“I can take you again, I’m definitely going to be feeling you for a while, but I'm not complaining.”

“Why don’t you ride me then?” He asks, stroking your hip. “You can kiss me this time.”

“Perfect,” you say, wasting no time and getting into position and sinking down on him again. You press your lips against his and start to rock your hips, the ache between your legs getting drowned out with pleasure as he matches your pace.

"Shit, shit, fuck, you are so tight?" Din groans in surprise. "How are you still so tight? We've been fucking for hours." He doesn't stop touching you, anywhere and everywhere he can while you ride him, stroking your back, your hips, sweeping his hands up to your breasts. Greedy for that skin to skin contact now that he's not quite as focused on cumming. "Kiss me, mesh'la." He begs.

You immediately press your lips to his, and moan into his mouth. His hands feel perfect on you, they explore your body with ease as you rock up and down, chasing relief once more around his cock.

This time is less frantic. It’s slower and almost more intimate. It’s almost like you are making love.

“Need you to cum,” you murmur against his lips, exhaustion taking its toll on your fucked out body, as you rock your hips slowly. His thumb pressed up against your clit as you chase some friction

“I will.” He promises. “After you, Mesh’la.”

You move your hips just a little faster, still keeping the pace slow and intimate. His thumb circles your clit perfectly as you grind down on him, cunning with a soft moan of his name, clamping down around him and relishing the groans of pleasure he fills your ear with. “Cum for me, Din,” you plead, as you can come back down.

Now that he feels your entire body melt, he knows the pollen has worked completely out of your system. “Good girl.” He grunts, rocking his hips as he wraps his arms around you. “I’m gonna fill you up again.”

“Please,” you beg, needing to feel his release. “Please, Din.”

He doesn't rush, knowing that you have to be exhausted at this point. Only his ability to go beyond his limits allows him to keep rocking his hips up. As soon as he cums, he knows he will pass out to sleep for a good while. You are almost asleep as he fucks you.

You sink your face into the crook of his neck, unsure how you’re going to find the strength to pull yourself out of bed and make your way home. Rocking your hips more and more, his release clearly moments away, you ride him harder, determined to give him every bit of his pleasure.

"Fuck." He groans and thrusts up one more time to bury himself deep. Throbbing again and feeling your walls grip him tight when he starts to spill inside of you again. Groaning your name quietly as he fills you. Feeling the heat and need of the pollen falling away with the last pulse of his orgasm.

“Din,” you murmured into his skin, “Tha-thank you.” Exhaustion rumbles in your joints, everything aches, but everything feels worth it when you’re wrapped up in his arms.

"Sleep, mesh'la." He hums, his hand sliding up and down your back gently. He's still inside you and doesn't want to pull out right now. He wants to sleep inside you. "I know you are exhausted."

You hum happily into the crook of his neck, letting him move you slightly and wrapping his arms around you. “Goodnight, Din.”

Sleep comes easier than it has in months, safely pulling you into slumber as he gently rubs your back and holds you tight to him.

Sometime during the night, Din wakes up. opening his eyes and letting his vision adapt to the darkness. He's softened and is barely inside you but it was probably the most relaxed and the best sleep that he's ever had. Possibly in his entire life. Reaching up, Din gently unties the blindfold that is still firmly over your eyes. He's decided that he wants you to see him. Or have the choice if you wanted him to turn on the lights. Now he just holds you, waiting for you to wake up.

Waking up, you hum contentedly in his arms, nuzzling your nose into his warm skin. The fact he’d removed your blindfold not fully registered yet as you wish him a ‘good morning.’ It’s only as you pull back and the light hits your eyelids that you realize the blindfold is off. “Din,” you say quietly, “Is it ok to open my eyes?”

"Opening your eyes comes with consequences, mesh'la." He admits quietly. "I am not allowed to let anyone see my face. Or I become darmanda." He explains. "I would no longer be Mandalorian."

“What do you want me to do?” You ask, before pressing your lips against his, “Tell me.”

"There is a way that you can see me and I am still Mandalorian." He tells you, slightly nervous about what you would think. It's crazy, but he couldn't stop thinking about it when he woke up.

“Tell me,” you repeat, “If you want to.”

"If you are my riduur....you can see my face without any consequences."

“Riduur?” You repeat slowly, “What is that?”

“Spouse.” He whispers the Basic word and waits for your reaction.

“Oh,” you say quietly, before bringing your hands up to his chin and gripping it gently. “Riduur,” you repeat, loving the way it sounds, “You could see me as yours one day?”

“You would be mine then.” He tells you. “If you want.”

“I want to be yours,” you say against his lips.

“Then open your eyes, Mesh’la.” He murmurs softly. “You can look at me before we say our vows.”

You kiss him first, pressing your lips firmly against his before pulling back and slowly opening your eyes. Staring deeply into his brown eyes and feeling a smile spread across your face as you take in his features. “Gorgeous,” you say quietly, before letting your fingertips gently run across his face.

His eyes softly and his lips part when your fingers drag across them. He’s been touched by Grogu but this is different. “Pleasant enough? Or should I put my helmet back on?” He jokes self-consciously.

“You’re perfect,” you say honestly, “I can’t believe you’d want me. You’re gorgeous.”

“You are mesh’la, it is Mando’a for beautiful.” He hums, smiling up at you.

“Mesh’la,” you repeat, “You are mesh’la, Din.”

Biting his lip, he says, “repeat after me. Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,” you say as clearly as you can, eyes still focused on his as you do so.

Din grins. “It is our vows.” He explains. “It means - We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors."

“We are one.” Taking his hand you bring it to your lips and place a small kiss on it. “Yesterday took an unexpected turn… But I’m so glad I picked that flower.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Good thing I wasn’t secretly a Gungan under my helmet.” He teases.

You giggle back at him before pulling him in for another kiss, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk normally for the next few days, you realize that right?”

“That’s to be expected.” Din flashes you a dirty grin. “Make sure you tell them that when we go to Mandalore.”

“So every time you fuck me, I’m going to be feeling it for days?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Not every time, but when you’re fucking to stay alive, I’ll make sure you feel it.” He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and grinning up at you. “You can pick those flowers anytime you want….riduur.”

“I might just have to do that,” you giggle, “Thank you for saving my life, Din.”

“I think I’ve gotten a pretty good reward.” Din hums. He had settled here for Grogu and it was a nice little place, maybe a little lonely since he’s not so busy, but now he has a feeling he will never be lonely again. Not with you by his side.

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thepascalofus · 9 months

Text

Supply Run - Return (part two)

AO3

PART ONE

Supply Run - Exchange (part three)

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x afab!Reader

Word Count: 8.0k

Summary: You’ve been Mando’s crew partner for a year now. Throughout that year Mando has warmed up to you and given you signs that your heart throbbing crush on him is reciprocated. There’s one thing making you hesitate. The condoms he bought on the most recent supply run.

Chapter Summary: While Mando takes a trip to the market and gets what he needs, he ponders your relationship and what it means to him.

Content Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only! Switching POVs, post season 2, the Crest lives, strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of Grogu, soft!Mando, insecure!Mando (a smidge), helmet loopholes, pining, idiots in love, jealous!reader, sad!reader for a little, mentions of sex work (sex work is work!), eventual SMUT (making out, grinding, f!receiving fingering, f!receiving oral sex, p in v, PRAISE kink, dirty talk), FLUFF, cuddling, happy ending guaranteed!

A/N: Thank you all so much for the responses on the first part! This is my first fic that I've ever shared and it makes me so happy that other people enjoy my writing! Enjoy!

Mando handed his scope off to you in the worn down store. Wallpaper peeled from the ancient wooden planks of the walls. Cobwebs littered the untouched areas of the store. The work stations in the back, visible from the pick up counter at the front, were in complete disarray. Several projects started, but not finished. Several projects finished, but not retrieved.

You took the scope in your hand and twisted it in your hands until your gaze landed on the name of the manufacturer and the serial number. Your eyebrows shot up once the brand of the scope was revealed, it twisted in your hands once more. Hands raising the metal tube so it was level with your eyes, you looked into the scope.

“Ah! I know what it is!”

Mando watched in confusion as you ran to a workstation and grabbed a singular tool. How did you know what was wrong so quickly? He sat in the hull of the Crest for hours attempting to fix the scope. The motions of taking the scope apart and putting it back together were etched into his brain from the number of times he did so.

You returned to the front of the store with the tool in hand. “This manufacturer has been having these issues lately. They built their magnification system like no one else, but they didn’t seem to account for the need to recalibrate the scope every once in a while. Recalibrating too often causes the lenses to misalign.”

Mando calibrated his every day. He had to. It was part of his job. A miscalibration could be the difference between a two hour hunt and a twelve hour hunt.

Your face twisted in concentration as you inserted the tool into the side of the scope. Jostling the metal, it popped open and allowed access to the inside. “For some reason they put these weird pins in…” You trailed off while you removed a total of three thin metal pins. Once the pins were removed, you clicked the top of the scope back into place and handed it to Mando.

Mando previously took the scope apart countless times. He never noticed any pins.

“Twenty credits, please.” You said with a smile. Your gaze met his–you somehow found it through his black visor–and you maintained eye contact.

The display on the inside of Mando’s helmet only progressed seven minutes after he entered the store. Inside of his helmet his eyebrows shot up. He was impressed. Not only with your efficiency, but with the reasonable price as well.

“I’m impressed.” He stated. Nodding at you, he retrieved a few credits from his utility belt and set them on the paint chipped counter. He turned and walked a few paces and then stopped in front of the door.

He’s been looking for a crew mate for weeks. The potential candidates he’s stumbled across were either annoying, rude, or incompetent. Throughout his time as a bounty hunter he’s been to countless repair shops. The service was always lack-luster, prices were too high, repair time much too long.

Sure, he just met you eight minutes ago, but you had potential. He turned on his heel and faced you. Armor glinted in the low lighting of the run down shop.

“Are you in the market for a new job?”

–

Walking to the market, he’d been reflecting on his decision to bring you onto the Crest as a crew partner.

It was the best decision he ever made, besides saving Grogu from the Empire.

You were intelligent. Friendly. Resourceful. Efficient. Brave.

You stared a Mandalorian straight in the eyes–well, visor–and didn’t even flinch. You didn’t even break eye contact, unlike everyone else. People would turn to whoever they’re with to avoid his gaze. They spoke like he wasn’t a meter or two away–and like he couldn’t amplify their voices with his helmet.

His tall, broad stance usually set everyone on edge. The heavy weight of beskar armor, a reminder of his skillset, didn’t aid in calming the nerves of anyone either. He was typically soft spoken around others, as he noticed people’s reactions when he spoke–eyes wide, speech stuttering, shaking hands–scared.

Everyone was afraid of him.

Except you.

When you first boarded the Razor Crest, Mando was extremely careful in making sure you were comfortable. The majority of his days not hunting were spent in the cockpit or in his bunk. Whenever you crossed paths in the hull you offered him a small smile and quickly looked away. Did your bravery fade away?

He came back from a hunt one day, quarry in tow, and he was relieved to hear, “How was your day?” Fall from your lips once the bounty was in carbonite.

Still cautious–mindful of how the modulator made his voice sound–he kept his answers short and to the point.

“Fine.”

“Busy.”

“Awful.”

Hearing the four words you said after each return from a hunt, and being able to give you a response without you slinking away, made the hunts worth it.

One night always stood out in his mind. It was just like any other return from one of his hunts. Mando dragged the quarry up the Crest’s ramp by a cord tied around their ankles. He lifted the man to stand up, doing so effortlessly with a few grunts to spare.

Your living space was in the hull, so he always tried to make the ends of his hunts fast. You didn’t have any choice but to watch. Mando didn’t want to make you watch for too long. Maker, he didn’t want you to watch at all.

His fist slammed the button to begin the freezing process. Breathing heavily, he stood and watched the bounty as they froze into the carbonite cell. A blanket of silence covered the hull once the hissing of the freezing mechanisms came to a stop.

“How was your day?”

There it is. His favorite part after the hunt. Knowing you were there, safe within the hull, and that you wanted to be friendly with him–even after witnessing him freeze a person he tracked down for several hours.

“Nothing you want to hear about,” he replied, his voice tinged with tiredness. The helmet’s modulator most likely didn’t register the sleep in his voice. Truly, he didn’t think that you would want to hear about it. The Mandalorian was afraid that hearing about his hunts would put you on edge. You already extended a branch of friendliness to him twice a day. He didn’t want to give that up by talking about the bounties he tracks down.

“Try me.”

Those words.

Those words have only ever been spoken to him by enemies. It always caused annoyance to wash over him, head to toe. He’s a Mandalorian. Confident of his skills in combat. No matter the odds, Mando knew he would like them.

But when those words tumbled from your lips, it was different. When his enemies weren’t scared of him, it was annoying. When you weren’t scared of him, adoration filled his body. And not adoration in a patronizing way, but adoration as a form of respect.

It made him want you that much more.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Mando realized the crotch of his pants were tight. Nonchalantly, he clasped his hands together and rested them below his belt.

“Quarry tried to escape and they ran. Would have been back four hours ago,” the modulator gritted out. Again, he was conscious of how the modulator warped his voice. “Not too fun,” he added in an attempt to make the conversation more casual.

You were silent. He whispered a curse to himself under his helmet, one that he was certain wouldn’t be picked up by his modulator. Was his answer too much? Mando quickly became nervous and started to shift his weight from one foot to the other. The silence you left in the air made him a bit anxious.

The T shape of his visor peered over to you. You stood still in shock, reminiscent of the people that saw him in public. Before his thoughts could spiral too much, you replied, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Dank farrik. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to comfort him. “You don’t have to be sorry,” his chest brushed against your shoulder as he swiftly hopped onto the first rung of the ladder up to the cockpit. “It’s my job.”

“That doesn’t mean it sucks any less,” you said. He smiled underneath his helmet at your consideration. Your eyes widened and your mouth opened and closed as you realized what you said, “sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that your job sucks.”

You weren’t wrong. Making his way through tough terrain, relying on a blinking red light on a piece of metal to guide him. Finding them was a task in itself, but dragging them back to the Crest was the other half of his job that sucked. Mando looked over his shoulder at you and replied matter-of-factly, “My job does suck.”

A giggle bubbled out from your chest. Every once in a while you would be reading a funny article on your Holopad and your laughs would echo through the hull of the Crest, making their way up into the cockpit. He needed more of them. His silver helmet shook slightly from side to side and he turned back to climb the ladder. But not before he also let out a small chuckle.

If you were comfortable enough to stand up to him, and laugh at his awful attempts at jokes–after he just hauled a bounty onto the ship–Mando realized he was safe.

Not only were you safe with him. He felt safe with you, in more ways than one.

Kriff it. You extended a friendly attitude towards him–a faceless warrior covered in impenetrable armor–then he could extend a friendly attitude towards you as well.

You asked him about this day, both in the mornings and the evenings. He learned about what you like and didn’t like. One item stood out to him. Caf. He always entered into a cloud of caf scent when he sauntered into the hull in the mornings. Mando was usually up before you, so he figured he would start making you a cup every morning. Confident enough in knowing which kinds of caf you preferred, he would stock up on caf every supply run.

The Mandalorian got closer to you, both physically and emotionally. Sometimes he would catch his hands landing on your waist or your lower back when he passed you on the ship. You’d shoot him a small smile in response. The distance he kept from you only decreased. He wanted to see your smile more and more.

One thing he didn’t see coming was your interest in Mando’a. He would mumble to himself in the ship while completing various tasks.

“What’s that word mean?” You’d occasionally ask. The Mandalorian would explain their meanings, sometimes struggling to translate the word to Basic.

He must have taught you at least two dozen words in Mando’a by now. Each time you asked you would give him your full attention.

At night, if he amplified the sound with his helmet enough, he could hear you practicing the words and recalling their meanings. It motivated him to share more words with you.

–

All of these experiences have led to this day. He’s been planning it for a month or two now.

He wants to ask you on a date. Nerves bubbled up from his stomach and throughout his body. They suddenly came to a halt.

Not now. First, he needs to collect information on a quarry.

Lost in his thoughts, he looked up and the market filled his vision with you in his peripheral. It wasn’t too busy, part of the reason why he was comfortable enough for you to shop on your own. He clarified the meet up point to you and watched as you took off. You had a bounce in your step, probably due to your excitement at shopping alone.

Once he meandered further into the market he began to collect information. This market was the bounty’s last location. Mando’s guess was that he either simply wanted to be in a small city, gambled their life savings away, or they paid for visit after visit with the workers at the brothel until they ran out of credits.

Only one way to find out. The gambling and brothels didn’t start up until later in the afternoon. To kill the time, and to possibly find the quarry, Mando wandered throughout the different sections of the market.

He asked a few vendors about the bounty. Mando described the man to many market sellers and only got a slight lead from one woman donned in patterned fabrics.

“I think he went that way,” the woman gestured with one of her hands towards an intersection, “Take the left path. I don’t know anything else beyond that.”

Mando dropped a few credits into her hand and gave her a polite nod, “Thank you.” He continued on and curved his gait to take the left path. From the signs and general merchandise displayed on each stall, he knew he was entering the clothing section of the market.

The helmet covering his head swiveled from left to right and right to left. No one matched the description of his quarry. Repeating his previous process, he made his way down the stall-lined alley and asked a couple different vendors.

Once the last vendor finished talking, and provided him with another lead, he dug his hand into his pocket and slid the credits on the stall’s counter towards them. Turning his back towards the vendor, his feet carried him two steps back into the market.

Then he saw you.

You stood hunched over a table of colorful bracelets. Tapping his fingers to the temple of his helmet, Mando zoomed in and the helmet displayed your face to him, deep in thought. Looking down, you were hovering your hands over a grid of various green bracelets.

You stopped on one. Mostly brown, almost too much to be in the green section, Mando thought. Nonetheless, the green and silver streaks peeked in and out of the thick threads of brown that made up the bracelet. Your fingers sorted through the sizes of the bracelet and selected one that looked close to your size.

Clutching it in one hand, the other hand searched for another of the same bracelet. It was larger than the previous size. You set the smaller bracelet down and tested the strings. The bracelet was adjustable, and you smiled at the discovery.

You transferred the bracelets onto the table of the stall and used one hand to dig into your pockets. Palm held out flat, Mando guessed that about twenty credits sat in your palm. He followed your gaze to the sign listing the prices.

PRICES

1 bracelet = 15 credits

2 = 30 credits

3 = 45 credits

4 = 60 credits

Shoulders falling, you dropped the credits back into your pocket and returned the bracelets to their original spot in the grid of green. Ground crunched beneath your shoes as you turned and continued wandering through the market.

Mando noted it was the third stall to the left of the bright green stall on the left side of the alley.

Not wanting you to realize he saw you, the Mandalorian walked in the opposite direction you took. After twenty minutes he noticed that the stalls became much more strange than the stalls in the clothing section of the market. Peering at the different products for sale, he saw a potions shop offering “super strength elixir” and a vendor selling various pet-like creatures. A few more vendors passed his peripheral vision as he continued his strides. They came to a stop once a building larger than the surrounding stalls came into view.

His helmet tilted upwards to read the sign displayed front and center on the large building: BROTHEL.

Tapping the side of his helmet, the time on the helmet’s display indicated that the brothel and gambling scenes had just begun. Mando tapped the temple of his helmet once again and the warm bodies within the building lit up, like he had x-ray vision. He counted a dozen in total. One body stood in the same spot inside near an entryway–the bouncer, Mando thought.

The bouncer was the individual that allowed access in and out of the building. If their memory was decent, they would be like a living guest book. Mando figured he could bribe them to reveal information, which was his usual plan with most of the beings he spoke with.

He sauntered over to the side of the building the bouncer was standing at. A singular light flickered over the side door, the sun was still out, so Mando was confused why it was on. The beskar helmet observed the side door.

Metal. Double deadbolts. Keypad on the left side. Small slit at eye level–neck level for the Mandalorian.

As soon as he crouched down to look near the slit, it slid open and revealed a thick pair of black eyebrows. Black eyes bore into the brow of Mando’s helmet, as the bouncer couldn’t seem to find his eyes.

“Do you have an appointment?” The bouncer asked. The voice behind the door was gruff, as if the words had to crawl from the depths of his throat.

“No,” Mando responded.

Black eyes blinked and then disappeared when the bouncer closed the metal slit.

Mando was taken aback and furrowed his brow. His fist pounded on the door. He just wanted this hunt to be over with. He wanted to get back to you.

The slit in the door revealed two black eyes once more.

“I have credits and will pay you if you give me information on a client your establishment may have served.” Mando’s modulator gritted out loudly. Straight and to the point. All business.

Eyes disappeared again, but were then accompanied with the sounds of the deadbolts unlocking. The metal door swung open to reveal a man dressed in all black with a silver name tag. Black hair matched the rest of his ensemble.

Still holding the door, the bouncer asked, “What’s the bounty look like?”

An eyebrow raised inside Mando’s helmet, but he figured the bouncer knew the drill by now. Even other bounty hunters knew that brothels were what many bounties visited. A gloved hand unbuttoned a pocket on his belt and retrieved a bounty puck. Clicking the side of it, the puck displayed the quarry.

The man stepped out of the doorway and onto the pavement, pulling the door closed behind him. His black eyes slightly squinted when his gaze trailed up and down the hologram.

“Ah yeah, I’ve seen this guy. He has a type, always goes for the blondes.”

“Does he have any upcoming appointments?” Mando questioned.

The bouncer sighed in thought and pulled a small notepad from his pocket. Mando mirrored the man’s motion and produced a pen and notepad from his pocket.

“The guy has an appointment in two days. He just asked to see a blonde. Figures.” The man shrugged and opened his notepad. Mando noticed it was a planner, and the bouncer flipped to the pages for the appointments two days from today.

“Which workers would take him as a client?” Mando’s modulator churned the words. His pen clicked as he readied himself to write.

The man donned in black made a fist with one hand and raised a finger with each name, “Ari. Taima. And Nomi. They would be in rooms one, five, or seven.”

Wow, Mando thought, this guy really knew the drill. He quickly finished up writing down the names and room numbers of each worker. The pen scratched feverishly against the cream colored paper, leaving behind black strokes to form letters and numbers. Notepad folding closed and the pen clicking, signifying the end of his notes, Mando returned the pen and paper to their place in his pocket. His opposing hand reached into a different pocket and produced a sizable amount of credits. Feeling generous, thankful that this hunt was going to be quick, he compensated the bouncer handsomely.

First task done. Second task on the horizon.

Creaking produced from the hinges of the metal door as the bouncer disappeared behind it once more. Flickering light gleamed off the beskar armor that protected the Mandalorian in combat. Although he wasn’t going into combat, because he wouldn’t be nervous if he was.

Mando trained most of his life with the greatest warriors in the galaxy. Combat flowed through his blood easily. It was a part of him.

But he was never trained on how to ask people out on dates.

On top of that, he was never trained on how to ask you out on a date.

He didn’t want to misread the situation. You could just be friendly. Who would want to date a man and not know what he looks like? Who would want to constantly live on a ship, without a permanent home?

Being Mando, he prepared for the worst. If you said no, he figured that you would be uncomfortable living with the man who asked you out on a date. Knowing that he’s attracted to you. He would fly wherever you wanted and give you some credits to get started. Kriff, he’d send credits for however long it takes for you to get on your feet. Then he’d leave you alone.

Admittedly, the Mandalorian would probably keep an eye on you to make sure you were safe. You just wouldn’t know he’s there.

But if you said yes.

Mando’s chest bloomed with anticipation. Firework-like tingles trailed up and down his limbs at the thought. He bit his lip within the confines of his helmet when he realized his pants had gotten tighter. Thankfully he was a Mandalorian, because heat washed over his face, half due to arousal and the other half in embarrassment.

The brown eyes underneath the helmet widened. If he wanted to do more with you and you agreed, he didn’t have protection.

Turning on his heel, cape whipping behind him, he made a quick pace back to the brothel.

Once he arrived at the gray building, the light at the side of the building having more of a purpose, Mando glided towards the same door as before. Bringing a fist up to the metal, he knocked three times.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Clink. Shhhkt.

“Do you sell condoms?” the modulator quickly blurted.

All business.

—

He arrived at the meet up point before you. Leaning against a nearby tree, Mando checked the time constantly, as if he was devoted to the action more than his Creed. If you were late, he always went looking.

Thankfully, you trudged up to the food stall on time with a hefty bag full of purchases. Fine, brown gravel grinded against the soles of Mando’s shoes as he made his way over to you. His gloved hand slipped the bag from your grasp and the pair of you began walking back to the Crest.

Both of you carried on with your normal post-supply run routines. You and Mando, but this time just Mando, piled the purchases from the market onto the hull’s floor. From there, the items could be sorted through and put in their respective places around the Crest.

As Mando finished unloading the large bag of purchases, he quickly dug around for the receipts. He knew how much you liked to review the shopping haul each time a supply run was completed. Mando enjoyed seeing the satisfaction wash over your face after you read over the receipts.

But this time was different. You froze once you got to the last receipt.

Mando’s helmet tilted in confusion. He took a few steps closer towards you, “What’s wrong? Did we forget something?”

You remained still while your eyes darted over the lines on the receipt. With your back turned to him, Mando found the opportunity to zoom in on the ink printed on the flimsy paper.

ITEMS PURCHASED (1)

CONDOM - 12 PACK

Oh. Fuck. FUCK.

He hasn’t even asked you on a date yet and now you probably already think he’s a perv. Nerves took over his body as you continued to stand still.

Your hand quickly crushed the receipts and threw them in the trash, “Nope! The last receipt didn’t look familiar but,” you trailed off slightly but recovered, “I remembered what I bought from the place.” A nervous laugh–obviously fake, Mando knew what your real one sounded like–escaped from your lips.

He fucked it up. You knew he was interested in you like that. And you didn’t feel the same. He hasn’t even asked you on the date yet. It’s all screwed up now.

But he also felt like he didn’t have enough evidence. What if you did like him but the idea of…needing to use the condoms…made you nervous.

Mando had to at least try. The least he had to do was ask you.

He cleared his throat and grabbed the bag off of the floor. You stood away from him, biting the inside of your cheek, nervously watching his movements.

“I’m going to go to the night market,” he informed you, “I have some business with a bounty I need to take care of.”

The bounty wouldn’t be captured until two days from now. In reality, he was really going to go and purchase snacks, takeout, and a pair of those bracelets you admired. It would have been suspicious if he met you back at the meet up point with bags full of snacks. The beskar man figured it would be best to hold off on buying them until later, and tell you he was getting a bounty, so you wouldn’t catch on.

He should’ve waited for this second trip to buy the condoms, he thought.

–

Mando left to, “Go to the night market,” he said. You saw the condom listed on the market receipts, you knew where he went tonight. What he’s going to do.

The brothels.

Yeah, sure, he’s paying a worker to give him a service. No feelings attached. But you didn’t want him to be with anyone else. Was Mando necessarily yours? No. Have you ever had sex with him? Also no.

That didn’t stop you from getting jealous.

And it wasn’t just jealousy. It was fear. What if he fell in love with one of them? Or what if he was going on dates? He could have a romantic interest you don’t even know about. Next thing you know, they’re going steady and you’re kicked off the ship. Or worse, you have to watch him love someone that isn’t you.

No more silence with him in the cockpit, watching as the hyperspace lights soar past the windshield. Feet tapping down the ladder as you both began your nighttime routines. He’d wait in the hull near the door of the fresher in just his helmet, undershirt, sleep pants, and socks. As he lifted off the wall from his leaning stance he’d ask you, “Are you done?” Holding his own hands in front of him, trying to seem relaxed, as if he was trying to look less intimidating. “Yeah,” you’d quickly respond, leaving the fresher and brushing past him. Sometimes his hand found your waist as he passed, or the small of your back. “Thank you,” he’d grunt gently as he closed the fresher door.

No more of Mando letting out a small, “Good night,” before lingering on your closing eyes and watching as your lips smiled, forming your response, “Good night.”

Falling asleep, you knew you’d wake up to him. He would be up before you on most days, leaving you a fresh cup of caf and your favorite ration pack (when he had them). The short chatter between you two, going over the logistics of the next hunt, telling stories from your past, or just thinking out loud to each other. Gone.

You would be banished from home.

The fear struck your chest. Heat searing through your ribcage and meeting your spine, the visions repeated over and over in your head. Tears fell like waterfalls from your eyes. Most streams connected underneath your chin and trailed down your neck. Your back met the hull’s wall as you sank down onto the floor. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Your head was heavy and numb.

Just breathe. You knew you weren’t going to die. Go through some heartbreak? Maybe, but you knew you’d be alive. It helped. Your breath slowed and the fear dissipated into the air around you. That didn’t stop the flow of tears down your cheeks as your eyes were fixed on the closed ramp.

–

Mando’s footsteps set a steady pace back to the market.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

He displayed a map of the marketplace as an overlay on the display of his helmet. Mando usually reserved this practice for combat to aid in determining exit strategies and the best plan of attack.

But now he was using it to calculate the most efficient route throughout the marketplace in order to see you again sooner.

Closing the overlay from the helmet’s display, he was met with the sight of the market. Long strings of lights decorated the different stalls. Many vendors took advantage of the dark and used different, bright combinations to reel in customers. Some lights were multicolored. Some flashing. Some huge and some small. He thought of the “ooh”s, and, “ahh”s that you would let out at the brilliant display.

The Mandalorian started in the food section of the market. Carefully examining which vendors carried your favorite snacks, he made purchase after purchase in quick succession. His helmet remained on a swivel, scanning the stalls from right to left and left to right.

A stall offering your favorite kind of takeout came into view.

Once Mando arrived at the stall he ordered two takeout meals. The vendor looked startled and confused as he ordered. They shakily accepted the credits for the two meals. Gazes drifted away from Mando and quickly returned as he stood waiting for the meals to be prepared. A bell rang and he retrieved two warm containers, placing them in his bag alongside the snacks.

One last stop. The bracelets.

Marching through the food district, he came upon an intersection at which the left path led him to the clothing district. Yet again, his helmet pivoted on his neck from one side to another.

The third stall to the left of the bright green stall on the left side of the alley.

Mando continued his steady pace until the bright green stall came into view. The brightness of the exterior paint was exaggerated by the warm light emitted by lanterns, which decorated the outside of the shop. He didn’t notice before but the store sold children’s clothes. Onesies. Small shoes. Tiny hats.

A small tunic. Small enough for a human child younger than one year old. The tunic reminded him of Grogu’s. Mando’s bare hands brushed against the material countless times as he cradled The Child in his arms.

The last time he spoke about Grogu was with you. You listened and offered support. He’s never had anyone do that for him.

His visor turned to his left. The soft fairy lights of the stall reflected off of the beskar helmet on his head. As if the beskar reflected a dark sky decorated with bright stars. Various fabrics hung from the side of the vendor’s stall to cover the old wooden planks. Little accessories were placed throughout the shop on different tables and displays.

Mando wasn’t focused on those items, he was focused on the long table of bracelets organized by color. His feet carried him to the green section. The helmet turned downwards to allow him to observe the selection.

Shit.

There were so many bracelets similar to the pair you held, just all in different combinations of green, silver, and brown. Was it the bracelet with the large green cord and the small silver and brown threads? Or the one with the large silver cord and green and brown threads? Or thick brown cord with streaks of green and silver? His hands hovered over the options, doing his best to recall the details from earlier in the day.

“It’s this one,” a woman’s voice said.

A bit startled, the Mandalorian looked up and found a woman standing on the other side of the table. She wore long robes with intricate patterns. Jewelry decorated every limb and part of her body, like jewels were dripping down from her skin from a storm of gemstones. Hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back. Her smile was kind and her gaze met Mando at his eyebrow.

A good try, he thought.

“I’m sorry?” He replies. She couldn’t possibly know which bracelet he was trying to find.

“You were watching them earlier. From across the street,” she let out faint exhales as she let out a short laugh, “Maybe you should hide a little better next time.”

She reached out and picked two bracelets out of the display grid. “I remember the sizes too,” she said, “The person you watched held onto them for so long, they seemed pretty attached to them. I kept track of which bracelets they were just in case.” The robed woman shot him a friendly wink.

“In case of what?” Mando questioned. He was still in shock that the woman noticed him staring at you from across the street.

The woman glanced up at him like that was a dumb question, “In case you came back to get them, Mandalorian. This isn’t my first day on the job.”

It saved him the time and stress of trying to remember which one it was, so he shrugged and watched the woman’s jewelry dangle as she typed onto the register.

Beep. Beep. Beep beep. Ching.

“Okay sir, twenty credits please!” The woman extended her hand out and waited for Mando to place credits into her palm. She was met with the tilting of the black T shape on Mando’s beskar helmet.

“I thought the price was thirty,” he stated as he began to reach into his pockets to retrieve his credits.

The woman let out another small laugh, “Oh, I suppose I should have made the sign larger,” her decorated fingers pointed to a small sign above the one that displays the bracelet prices.

$10 OFF WHEN YOU BUY TWO OR MORE

Mando’s shoulders dip in realization that you could’ve bought the bracelets in the first place. A sigh escapes his modulator and he hands the credits over to the intricately robed vendor. The credits clink into her palm, and then into the register.

He waits silently for her to package them up in a small bag.

“They like you, you know,” the woman mentions, “No one like them would be deciding on which bracelets to buy for that long if they didn’t.” She paused as she was about to place the larger of the two into the small bag, “And look at the size of this one! It’s definitely for you.”

The Mandalorian nods, “I appreciate that,” he pauses before turning away, “let’s hope they do.”

–

Mando sets a faster pace back to the Crest than the one he took from the Crest to the market. He’s impatient, he can’t wait to walk up the ramp and see your body curled up, comfortable and safe, while you sleep soundly in your bed–if you can even call it that, he thought. You usually went to bed early when he went on hunts, otherwise you would be awake talking to him.

Slipping the bag from his shoulder, an ungloved hand rummaged through the contents searching for a small bag. His fingers found the familiar texture and he pulled it out from between the snacks and the takeout.

Mando slung the bag back over his shoulder, pulled the larger of the two bracelets out of the small bag, and slipped his hand through the ring of brown, silver, and green. Grabbing one of the ends with his fingers and pinning it to his palm, the other hand tightened the bracelet to a comfortable size around his wrist.

Once the small bag was returned to its place inside of the larger one, Mando peered around him to get a good look of his surroundings.

The sun was about to set, leaving only a sliver of light available to provide dim light to the landscape. Rocks littered the ground. Shadows from each one making them appear larger in the light of the impending dusk. He reached up and tapped a finger to the temple of his helmet. No living thing was around him.

He paused and set the bag on the ground. Doing one last scan of the area, one of his hands gripped the chin of his helmet and lifted the beskar from his head. The hand held the helmet at his side while he marveled at his wrist.

He caught a good patch of remaining light and watched as the green and silver threads gleamed against the thick brown ones. The bracelet was beautiful. Not only because of the design, but because you picked it out. And it was for him.

Becoming paranoid, the Mandalorian quickly slipped his helmet back onto his head. He waited for the seal of the helmet to engage before continuing back towards the Crest. This time, at an even faster pace.

–

You sat there until you heard heavy footsteps approaching from outside, the hydraulics of the ramp coming to life. Thinking fast, you stood up and made your way towards the fresher to start your nighttime routine.

“Why are you still awake?” Mando’s voice was confused. He stood in front at the top of the ramp with his helmet tilted, hands resting on his hips, but his shoulders were slumped, a bag slung around one. He looked…worried.

Mando was right. Usually when he went on hunts you went to bed early. Nowadays the only thing that kept you awake was him. Talking with him was how you spent most evenings on the Crest, your voices echoed and bounced back to each other in the hull.

He’s used to seeing you curled up on the sleeping pad covered in blankets. Soft breaths came from your body and radiated throughout the Crest. Just like a minute ago, his footsteps would come up the ramp with his bounty in tow. Soft grunts could be heard kitty-corner from your spot in the hull. A hiss of mechanisms as they froze the bounty in carbonite. Then a bit of silence.

The absence of the carbonite freezing stood out in your mind. No bounty, even when he said he was going to go and find one. Your eyes teared up slightly again as the realization truly set in. Mando really did go to the brothel.

You just wanted this night to be like any other night he came back to the Crest with a bounty.

After the bounty was frozen, heavy footsteps made their way across the floor of the hull. But they always stopped a few paces away from your bed, halting for a moment. Mando would complete his nightly routine. Setting the Crest’s coordinates for the next planet and showering in the fresher if he needed to–he usually did.

No matter what the events of his nightly routine were, it always ended with him standing in the doorway of his bunk–the sound of his footsteps always stopped partially inside.

“Good night, cyar'ika.”

You didn’t know what the Mando’a meant, since Mando never used that word around you, but you knew that the, “good night,” was all you needed to finally fall asleep.

You always waited up for him, only until reasonable hours of the night, of course, but he didn’t know it.

The sound of his footsteps in the present snapped you out of your hazy state. Crying really does a number on your brain.

“Just…couldn’t fall asleep,” you offered him a small smile as you pulled some products out of the tiny fresher cabinet. You wet your face and applied a small amount onto your fingertips, tapping them together for both hands to have the product. As you lifted your face and your hands to the mirror to begin washing your face, you were met with swollen lips, puffy eyes, and slight tear trails dried onto your face, despite the water you just splashed onto it. You froze.

There goes any of your chances to get away with how you spent your night. Staying up late staring at the Crest’s ramp. Waiting for Mando to come home. At least what you thought was home.

“What’s wrong?” Mando’s voice got clearer as he approached the fresher door. His strides long, footsteps clunking, as he removed his leather gloves and tucked the pair into his utility belt.

You went to turn away from him but he got there faster than you could. His ungloved hand rested on your shoulder, grip slow yet firm as he turned you to face him. He rubbed tiny circles onto your skin with his thumb once his eyes beneath the helmet noticed yours.

Your reflection on the silver beskar of his helmet stared back at you. Could you even get away with a lie at this point? What else would have made you cry? It’s not exactly like you could have said the truth either.

Oh yeah, I was sitting here having a panic attack as you participated in a perfectly normal service that is offered on this planet. Then I spiraled and thought about how you might not even want me to be here, that you’ll find another partner to be on this ship with you, and toss me away like none of this meant anything to you.

Mando’s hand waved in front of your face and it brought you back into the present moment. “Did someone come onto the ship while I was gone?” His voice gritted out from the helmet’s modulator.

“Maker, no,” you huffed and tried to look less suspicious, hoping he’ll just drop the topic.

“Then what is it?” He murmured, his modulator barely picking up his syllables. His wide shoulders took up most of the fresher’s door frame. The grip on your shoulder tightened slightly.

“It’s…I don’t think you’ll want to hear it.” You shrugged and repressed the heat of anxiety creeping down the back of your head. Turning to wash and dry your hands, you let out a sigh and started to walk towards the main open space of the hull. Your shoulder gently bumped him as you slid past his large frame in the doorway.

Suddenly your hips were being snapped backwards and dragged back towards the fresher. His damn finger was in your belt loop again.

He pulled you close to him, feeling the heat from his knuckle dig into your hip and spread throughout the rest of your body. His helmet leaned down to look you in the eye and tilted once again.

“Try me,” he paused. He brought his hand up to grip onto the valley where your neck meets your shoulder, slowly enough so you could back away if you so desired. His large palm and thick fingers were calloused and warm. The grip he had on you was still gentle, slightly squeezing. “You know you can tell me, right?”

You let a deep inhale permeate through your lungs. The words flowed through your individual cells. Thoughts of lying escaped your body with each breath. The debate inside your head would end. Whether he had those feelings for you or not.

“I got upset because you went to the brothel.” You told him. Lips trembling and eyes squinted open in an attempt to meet his gaze.

“The brothel?” He held both of your shoulders and brought his visor closer to your face. Thumbs rubbed your shoulders yet again. He sighed as your name left his lips and traveled through his helmet, “I didn’t go to a brothel tonight.” A titled T-shaped gaze met yours. You knew he was looking you in the eyes, and yours into his.

Brows furrowed, you sniffled slightly, “I-, I saw that condoms were on the market receipts.” The thumbs on your shoulders stopped, his chest didn’t rise and fall. He froze. You made Mando freeze.

“Look I know I’m just being dramatic and paying for that kind of thing is completely normal. I just,” you trailed off and thought of a quick replacement for your worry, “I was worried you would get hurt there.”

Mando’s shoulders fell and his helmet cocked to the side. “What?” He questioned. “How would I get hurt? None of the workers there had weapons.”

“How would you know that if you didn’t go?” You whispered to him. Your gaze left his and it dropped to the shape in the center of his chestplate. The crystal shape rose up and down slowly.

“I got information on a bounty there earlier,” he sounded like he was talking to a hurt animal. Gentle. Slow. Calm. “What's the actual reason you’re upset?”

Kriff it.

“I had a panic attack because I thought you went to the brothel. Maybe you would like the worker there more than you like me, I spiraled and thought about how you might not even want me to be here, that you’ll find another partner to be on this ship with you,” your chest heaved and as you listed off your previous thoughts of worry. Your hands shook as they landed on top of Mando’s, and you took a deep breath, eyes meeting his gaze like before, “and toss me away like none of this meant anything to you.”

Mando is quick. He flipped his hands to grab one of yours and tugged you into the hull. Kneeling, he opened a cloth bag, one from the market, and dug into it to search for something.

He actually went to the night market. You thought, now you look so clingy. So needy. He was just going to show you what he got to prove he went.

He turned and held his hand out. Sitting on top of the golden skin on his palm was a bracelet.

The bracelet from the market.

“I saw you looking at these, you looked for a long time and then put them down,” He stood up and set his gait to slow steps as he made his way over to you.

You laughed nervously, accompanied by a small sniffle, “Sorry yeah, I know I just should have been getting the stuff we needed. You didn’t have to go back and get it for-.” Mando raised a finger to halt your speech and continued what he was saying previously, “you put them down. You had two bracelets.”

“They had lots of them that I liked…I had two that were a tie and I just decided to get neither-.” Mando cut you off again.

“You were holding one bracelet consistently and then picked another in a bigger size,” you froze at his words. Dank farrik. Now he was going to think you’re super clingy.

“I wasn't completely sure who you wanted to wear the bracelet, but I took a guess.” He pulled his long sleeve past his elbow and revealed his bare forearm. Strong. Capable. Solid. And a matching bracelet was donned on his wrist.

Your cheeks radiated with heat as he took your wrist and put your bracelet on you. His warm fingertips brushed the soft skin of your wrist, sending chills throughout your body at the meticulous skin-on-skin contact.

Once the bracelet was secure around your wrist, Mando dipped his head and looked down at the floor. One of his hands gripped the underside of his helmet, and the other held onto your wrist. Your breath caught in your throat at the gesture. He quickly lifted his helmet to release his mouth, and he pressed three kisses on your wrist where the bracelet was. Mando’s lips were soft and timid, his hand caressing the skin on yours. Silver from his beskar helmet blocked your view, but Mando sealed his helmet and brought his eyes underneath the visor to look into yours.

“This means everything to me.”

Supply Run - Exchange (part three)

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rinixo · 1 year

Text

sulfur and granite

Din Djarin/Reader | 2.7k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, Jealous Din Djarin, smut, piv sex, semi-intense consensual sex, aftercare.

On a short detour to Tattooine, you are introduced to the Marshal. Mando is definitely not jealous.

–

Non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi.

a/n: I imagine Mando would not know how to comfortably express feelings of jealousy/possessiveness right away, but ultimately would be respectful towards his partner's desires.

read on ao3

You weren’t sure what planet you’d choose if you had to pick your favorite, but you were fairly certain that Tattooine wouldn’t even make your top ten. You had only been there a few times, and each time you had left with an uncomfortable amount of sand in an uncomfortable amount of places. The only redeeming quality in your eyes were the brilliant binary sunsets the arid rock offered, but even then there were hundreds of other places in the galaxy where you could see those.

When Mando charted course for Tattooine, you bit your tongue. He said he needed to talk to an ‘old friend’ in some tiny, middle-of-nowhere town, and seeing as you were along for the ride, you steeled yourself for another day of brushing sand out of all of your clothing.

Mando had not given you much information, which you didn’t particularly mind. This was mainly a detour on your journey through the galaxy – some kind of favor he needed to repay or something, you surmised. His ‘old friend’ was only described as ‘The Marshal’, and you wondered what kind of law enforcement a syndicated crime planet like Tattooine could even harbor.

Mando landed the Crest on the outskirts of the city one late afternoon. You, Grogu, and your armored patron walked the short distance into the town to where a man dressed in red was waiting for you.

“Good to see you,” the man called out, moving forward to grasp Mando’s arm in greeting. You hung back slightly, feeling a little out of your element when the man happened to glance past the bounty hunter and catch your gaze.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” The Marshal sauntered forward, an easy grin matching his easy gait. He was quite handsome, you decided. Nice peppery-gray hair, eyes lined with laughter. He reached out for your hand, which you gave with a quiet giggle as he brought it to his lips.

“Don’t tell me she’s one of your bounties, Mando.” The Marshal directed at the Mandalorian as he kissed the back of your hand flirtatiously. “Cause I might be tempted to play the hero and rescue her from your clutches-“

“She’s helping me on my journey,” Mando interrupted flatly. There was a wink of humor in the Marshal’s gaze as he released your hand, only to wrap one arm around your shoulder.

“Well, then, welcome,” he exclaimed. “Any friend of Mando’s is a friend of mine, er…?”

You shared your name, and the man began to walk you toward what you assumed was the local cantina. It was past midday, and it looked like the building was the gathering place for most of the locals as they ended the day. Several people greeted the Marshal as he pointed out different landmarks to you, indicating that he was just as popular among his people as you would have assumed based on his appearance and looks alone.

Mando trailed along just slightly behind the two of you, Grogu tucked in his sack at his side.

“Can I buy you a drink?” The Marshal asked, motioning to the bartender. Two glasses of blue liquor were poured, and the charming man held one out to you.

“Sure,” you smiled. It had been a while since you had let yourself indulge. Even on the rare occasions you and Mando stopped someplace with alcohol, it was mainly for information or to pick up supplies to take on the go. Not to mention the fact that Mando never took off his helmet.

The Marshal – who you later found out was named Cobb Vanth – clinked his glass against yours and the two of you took healthy swigs of the slightly sour drink. Wincing, you matched the handsome man’s grin as he leaned casually against the bar.

“So tell me,” he drawled, swirling his drink In his glass. “What’s a girl like you doing hanging around a Mandalorian bounty hunter?”

You vaguely registered Mando hovering off to the side. He did not ask for a drink, nor did you think he would accept if one was even offered. You glanced over at him, wondering if you should defer to him – he had wanted to come to Freetown to speak with the Marshal, who was currently more fixated on you. On the other hand…it had been a while since you had a chance to talk to someone who wasn’t a literal child.

Turning to focus your attention on Cobb, you explained your background and talked generally about what you were doing for Mando. You left out most of the details in the interest of protecting both his and Grogu’s safety but were secretly delighted that the man did not pry for answers. Instead, he asked questions about you – where you were from, your research, your favorite parts of the galaxy you had seen thus far. He had a charming way of speaking, and a quick wit, and you found yourself losing track of time as the conversation flowed steadily into the evening.

At some point, Cobb had procured a small table for the two of you, and you perched on the edge of your seat as he explained how he had come to meet the Mandalorian. He laughed at how your jaw dropped during the tale of how Mando had flown into the mouth of a krayt dragon to blow it up from the inside. You spared another glace towards the bounty hunter, who hadn’t moved since you had entered the cantina. His helmet was fixed on you, and though you couldn’t see his eyes something told you his gaze was fixed on you. The feeling sent a slight shiver up your spine.

Seeming to notice, Cobb reached out and placed a calloused hand over your own. “It has truly been a pleasure,” he smiled. “But I better go speak to Mando before he burns a hole through both our heads.” You returned his smile and stood – albeit a little wobbly from the several drinks you had consumed over the past hour or so.

The Marshal beckoned for someone to come over, and explained that they would show you to a room you could stay in for the night. As he did so, Mando walked over, his bulk just millimeters from your back. You opened your mouth to greet him, but he just handed you Grogu in his sack and asked that you take the now-sleeping baby with you.

“Of course,” you said, gently taking the child into your arms. “See you later?”

Mando did not answer you and instead took your seat across from Cobb. The Marshal wished you a good night, and you followed the young woman he had procured to show you to your room.

An hour later, you were freshly bathed and had changed into a clean set of clothes. The room was decently sized, if not a bit dusty from lack of use. It held one large bed along with several chairs and a small table and was attached to a small side room that had a smaller bed. You had tucked Grogu into the smaller bed in the side room, closing the door gently so that you could prepare for sleep without waking him up.

You laid against the pillows and were browsing your datapad when the sound of the door sliding open signaled the arrival of Mando. You watched him clunk into the room over the top of your datapad. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment, a tension in the atmosphere having followed him in. “Where’s the kid?” He asked, and you pointed to the side room. He walked over to the door and opened it slightly to peer inside. Satisfied, he gently closed it and continued to stand there in the middle of the room.

“Have a good chat?” You asked, breaking the frigid silence after it became clear he was not going to. Mando settled into a chair heavily, spreading his legs and resting his arms on those of the chair.

“Was gonna ask you the same thing,” he rasped in response, and you raised a brow in question.

“What do you mean?” You asked, tapping a nail against the side of your datapad. Mando raised one shoulder in a half-shrug.

“You two seemed to hit it off.”

“Who? Me and Cobb?” You set down your datapad and crossed your arms. “He was nice.”

You could hardly believe the scoff you heard from the man. “Sure. That’s one way to put it.”

“Are you jealous?”

“…No.”

“You are,” you expanded, uncrossing your arms and swinging your legs over to hang over the side of the bed. “You’re upset that he was flirting with me, aren’t you?”

Mando was silent, and you wondered if his jaw was clenched under that helmet. You looked at him expectantly, and he sighed.

“I’m not upset,” you tried to clarify. “I think that’s just how he is. It’s ok to be jealous, Mando.”

“I am not jealous,” he grit out, and you tried to hide a smirk. Standing, you swayed over to stand in front of him. You were wearing an old oversized tunic that came just above your knees, and not much else. You stepped in between his spread thighs, your bare legs bumping against his armor. Even sitting, his head was nearly level with your own. Were you pushing it, standing naked from the waist down in between the legs of a dangerous and definitely jealous man? Perhaps.

“Then why were you staring at us the whole time?” You teased. “Mad that your friend was talking to me and not you?”

“I was waiting for him to make a move,” Mando interrupted. “To touch you.”

“Yeah?” You queried, and in a burst of bravery, you sat lightly on one of his broad thighs. You felt him tense underneath you, even through the armor, and resettle his weight back In the chair to support you more firmly. “What was your plan if he had made a move?”

One of his gloved hands came to rest on your bare thigh, and he slowly pulled it towards him, forcing your legs to spread slightly. His hand rubbed soft circles into your flesh, and you shifted so that your back was supported against the side of the chair.

“Hauling you over my shoulder and back into my ship,” Mando husked, hand venturing further up your thigh, under the hem of the long tunic. Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed lightly over your bare cunt. “And reminding you.”

One of his fingers ran up and down your slit, and you shifted again, trying to get him to put more pressure where you wanted it. “Remind me of what?” You asked breathlessly. Mando’s other hand crept up your back to grip your neck, forcing you to arch in his lap. He stood, hauling you up against him with ease. He half-dragged you over to the bed, sitting down so that he could pull you up against his back into his lap.

“This,” he said simply, spreading your thighs wider and grinding his hips up into your backside. You could feel him, hot and hard under his flight suit, and you let out a low moan at the sensation. One hand roamed over your shaking thighs, playing with the slick gathering between your legs, while the other came up to cross against your chest, holding you tightly against him.

“I was thinking,” Mando continued, sounding almost casual in his tone and timbre, “Of how to show you what you’d be missing. How to show other men that you spend your nights in my bed.”

You licked your lips, feeling air-light as he rasped through the modulator into your ear. His fingers between your legs alternated from pinching your swollen clit to probing your entrance.

“That’s what I was thinking,” he said lowly. “What were you thinking, wicked girl?”

“I’m thinking you should just fuck me already,” you gasped out, and Mando laughed. It echoed through your blank mind like smoke, and your eyes fluttered closed as two of his thick fingers slid tightly inside of you, thumb pressing against your clit. Your hips bucked at the sensation, only to be held tight in his iron grip.

“Can you be quiet?” Mando asked throatily, and you could feel the rumble of it from his chest. “The kid is sleeping…and who knows who else might be listening?”

“I thought you wanted them to know,” you whimpered, and his grip on you loosened for a millisecond before he stood and flipped you face-first onto the bed. The back of your tunic was pushed up as he pushed your shoulders down to the mattress, and dragged your hips up toward where he stood behind you.

“Keep quiet,” he gruffed out, and you heard the familiar sound of his belt coming undone and felt his bare hips warm against your ass. “You only cry for me, understand?”

“Y-ye-“ you barely had a chance to respond before he shoved his throbbing cock into you, punching the air out of your lungs in one solid thrust. Keening, you let your head fall against your arms as Mando gripped your hips firmly and began a steady, brutal pace.

He spread your thighs as wide as they would go so that you could take all of him in with every thrust. Something about his hands on your hips and the way he moved you felt necessary – deep, intense thrusts that would resist anything except acceptance from him. The bed creaked from his weight against your body, along with the rich sound of his hips slapping against yours.

The superiority of this angle made you focus on the place where he filled you like it was the center of your universe. You bit into the flesh of your arm in an attempt to silence the keening cries that wanted to escape from your throat. Mando groaned above you, and his pace quickened.

“This what you wanted?” he husked lowly. “To come on my cock? Come on, wicked girl, come on-“

You choked out a wordless plea as his weight came down across your thighs, and his cock rammed as far as it could go. You knew you would feel the ache of him inside of you for days.

“M-mando-“ you keened again, and you felt his grip on your hips clench harder.

“Gotta be quiet,” he rasped. “Want them to hear how you’re spread open for my cock?” You could feel your orgasm approaching like a ship preparing to exit hyperspace. You were sure nothing in your life would ever feel as good, as full, as right as the heavy weight of his cock inside of you.

The frantic clutch of your cunt wrung from Mando his own release. He all but collapsed onto you, wrapping you up so that you disappeared into his embrace. You came with a muffled scream, your leg going numb from the release of tension and the weight of the man fucking his semen into you.

Not allowing you reprieve, Mando groaned and collapsed onto his side, rolling you so that you were pressed up against him. His iron-hard cock was still inside of you, throbbing its release, and his hand came down between your legs to tweak at your clit. “Again,” he demanded, and you threw your head back and hit it against his helmet. He shoved the fingers of his other hand into your mouth to silence your cries as you came again, obediently, at the clumsy push of his fingers against your sore cunt.

Your body jerked against him, twitching from the edge of overstimulation. His cock, still streaming cum, slid out of you, pulsing the last of his release over your flushed entrance. For a while, all that could be heard was the sound of your breaths easing back from near hyperventilation. Mando’s grip on you was still possessive, but he shushed you gently and murmured praise into the back of your neck, hands circling your skin to ground your consciousness back down to him.

After that, Mando gently slid from behind you and lifted you into his arms. Your legs still shook from the onslaught, and he carried you quietly to the refresher where he helped you wipe yourself clean.

“All right?” He murmured as he brought a soft cloth to your inner thighs. You smiled sleepily and leaned your head forward to lay against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the cold metal.

“If that wasn’t you being jealous,” you whispered, “Maybe next time I should flirt back.”

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #din djarin #cobb vanth

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beskarandblasters · 28 days

Text

Immortal By Design

Possessed!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist | Story Playlist

Author’s note: I originally had this posted as a mini series, but I decided to make it a one shot instead! (｡◕‿◕｡) To see what this Din looks like, click here! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Summary: Din Djarin picks up a mysterious job at the Bounty Hunter’s Guild from a high paying client that specifically requested him. Once he tracks down the bounty, he discovers two things— you tracking the bounty for different reasons entirely and a lot more than he bargained for.

Word count: 8k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), no Grogu in this universe, possession, cursed object, dark!Din, monsterfucking (I think), Din has heightened capabilities, dub con/noncon, restraints, reader gets captured, oral sex (M and F receiving), rough oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, mir’sheb = smart ass, character death, no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Part One: Possession of Another Kind

It’s a typical day on Nevarro. Din walks through the marketplace, heading towards the Bounty Hunters Guild to pick up another job as part of his normal routine.

Typical. Normal. Ordinary.

That is unless he steps into the Guild.

“Mando!” Karga shouts, beckoning for him to come to his booth. He seems frantic… urgent. Before Din even has a chance to speak, Karga continues, pulling out a tracking fob and setting it on the table.

But for once there’s no bounty poster hologram, no flickering blue lights.

“No poster?” Din asks, cocking his helmet to the side.

“No… But the reward is quite large.”

“How much?”

Karga scans the room, eyes bouncing from person to person. He leans forward, lowering his voice and saying, “A million credits.”

Din can’t believe his ears. There’s no way this is legit. No one on Nevarro or in the Outer Rim for that matter has that kind of credits.

“Sounds like a scam,” Din says, leaning back in the booth.

“It’s not. Droid came here this morning and dropped off the fob. Said they’d back with the reward once the bounty was captured.”

“You know I don’t care for droids.”

“You can’t pass up this reward.”

“…No one else wanted this job?”

“The client specifically requested you.”

Din’s hairs stand on their ends. A shiver runs down his spine. The fact that someone did their research… Someone who knows who he is and specifically chose him for the job is suspicious but also intriguing. And the reward is too prosperous to pass up. This bounty must be dangerous if the client is willing to pay this much.

“Fine. I’ll do it,” he sighs. He takes the fob from the table and slips out of the booth.

“Good luck,” Karga says with a strange look in his eye.

Din isn’t one to get scared, but the circumstances here are undeniably ominous. Between Karga’s strange behavior, the missing bounty poster, and the absurdly high reward, Din has an unsettling feeling coursing through his body. He heads back to the Crest, his mind wandering with the possibilities of what exactly he just got himself into.

He plugs in the coordinates from the fob into the control panel of the Crest. And the location is an immediate red flag…

The bounty is located on Malachor of all places.

Malachor is a barren wasteland of a planet. Din knows the planet means bad news but he doesn’t know why exactly. Something about the Empire or the Sith. The Empire he’s well acquainted with but the Sith? The Jedi? Not so much.

At least if it’s a barren place, the bounty shouldn’t be too hard to find, right? He’s not too worried about the potential Sith connotations just yet. Din’s a capable warrior, raised by the best of the best in the galaxy. He should be able to hold his own without too many troubles.

He sets a course for Malachor and takes off. Nevarro gets smaller and smaller underneath him and the unsettling feeling returns. He just keeps reminding himself of the life-changing reward he’ll receive if he succeeds.

Not if but when.

It doesn’t take too long to get to Malachor from Nevarro. Both are Outer Rim planets. So thankfully, the journey there was rather uneventful.

But when he lands on Malachor? That’s a different story.

He lands the Razor Crest on the desolate surface, grabs the fob, and heads outside. Barren would be an understatement to describe this planet. It’s empty. There’s not a single soul around for miles. It feels like the planet is absent of all light sources. Thick, gray, clouds coat the sky above him. The ground beneath his feet is a rocky wasteland. It’s not hard to understand why there’s no life here; why no one comes here. All of this begs the question; what is the bounty doing here?

He follows the signal of the tracking fob, feeling like he’s walking in circles for ages. His surroundings are the same, with no identifiable landmarks or features around to let him know he’s making progress. He feels his sanity start to slip. The tracking fob keeps beeping monotonously, showing no signs that he’s getting closer to the target. It’s driving him insane. For an uninhabited planet, this bounty is a lot harder to find than he originally thought. He starts to wonder… Is this even worth it anymore? Is it worth his time and frustration?

He interrupts his own train of thought.

Yes. Yes, it is worth it. For a million credits, you’ll spend however long it takes to find the bounty, he tells himself.

Good things come to those who wait. In the distance just over the horizon line, he spots something odd. As he gets closer he can slowly make out what it is– four top-heavy, pyramidal stones situated in a square formation. The tracking fob beeps faster and louder as he gets closer to the stones. Once he’s up close and personal with them he sees just how massive they are. They tower over him and etched in the stone is a language he can’t understand, written in bright red. One of the stones is surrounded by an opening in the planet, a deep hole descending below the surface. The tracking fob only goes crazier as he draws closer to the crater. Only way to go from here is down.

He uses his jetpack to carefully lower himself into the hole, using the lamp attached to his helmet to see where he’s going. Once he feels the ground beneath his feet, he looks around and can’t believe his eyes.

A vast field of stones is buried underneath the surface, each of them etched with the same red lettering he saw up above. And in the center of the field is a black stone pyramid, the tip of it glowing red. He looks beneath him and he’s standing on a cliff. He lowers himself deeper into the field of stones, his hairs standing on their ends. This is unmistakably a bad place.

Something ominous looms in the air, a feeling of dread brewing in Din’s stomach. But he persists, following the trail the tracking fob is taking him. He inches closer and closer to the temple? The tomb? Whatever that pyramid-looking thing is. As he gets closer to it, a disembodied voice calls to him.

Come closer.

…Is it the bounty? The voice didn’t sound like it was speaking out loud… It sounded like it was inside Din’s head.

But how is that possible?

He’s at the opening of the pyramid and it all happens so fast. The tracking fob is ballistic, beeping, and flashing lights rapidly. Everything is a blur around him. It’s like his mind isn’t in control of his body.

All he can hear is the fob going off and the voice talking directly in his ear.

Come find me.

A large box stands before him, blackened stone etched with red, just like everything else in this strange place. He’s not sure what this place is exactly but he feels like he has to be standing in some sort of temple. The box looks more like a tomb, long enough for Din to fit inside of it lying down. This place definitely belongs to some sort of religion. Maybe even a cult. Could this place belong to the Sith? What is he getting himself into?

Open the lid, the voice commands.

He does as he’s told, lifting the heavy stone lid and revealing… an amulet.

Put me on. Don’t be shy, the voice says.

He looks down at the fob in his hand, the beeping is incessant. It can’t be any clearer that this… this thing is what he was sent to look for.

Put me on, the voice commands again.

He takes the silver chain in his hands, the red pendant glowing red just like everything else here. He really shouldn’t put this strange, seemingly bewitched object on but he feels compelled to. The voice is convincing, talking to him like this is what he’s supposed to be doing.

He lifts the chain above his helmet pulling it down around his neck.

Protect me. Keep me close to your heart.

Without thinking he tucks the chain into his flight suit, feeling the cool metal contrast against his warm skin. All of a sudden he feels… different. He’s not really sure how to explain it but he feels better, like he’s more in tune with himself. He feels stronger, more alert, almost like he’s on another plane of existence. It’s exhilarating like someone just gave him the best drugs in the galaxy.

The beeping on the tracking fob finally subsides. Could it be that he was after all this time? That doesn’t make sense. He was sent to track down… an object? No, that can’t be right.

But it does make sense why there was no bounty poster. It makes sense why the client was so mysterious.

Another question crosses his mind…

Why was the reward so high?

His mind swirls with questions and possibilities as to what this all means—the voice buts in, interrupting his train of thought.

It doesn’t matter how or why. It happened for a reason.

He decides the voice is right and revels in his newfound heightened state. Listening to this voice that seemingly comes from nowhere feels right, almost like he’s complete.

As he exits the pyramid a shout rips him from his bliss.

“What have you done?!”

He turns around to find a woman. That woman is you, your brow furrowed and your face aghast. You storm over to him, your eyes looking past him and into the pyramid; into the open tomb.

Din’s speechless, unsure of what exactly your problem is. He was just completing a job. What’s it to you? Mindlessly, his hand gravitates towards the chain under his flight suit, almost feeling the need to protect it.

“You didn’t put it on, did you?” you ask, turning your gaze back towards him.

“What does it matter to you?” he snaps.

“You have no idea what you just did.”

“It’s a necklace. I put it on. It’s not the end of the world,” he deadpans.

“You don’t know what that is?”

“…No?”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. Din doesn’t understand what’s going on, he doesn’t understand why you’re so pressed by this. It’s just an object. It can’t hurt anyone.

“That amulet is cursed by one of the Mortis Gods… the Son.”

“…Who?”

“You don’t know who the Mortis Gods are? The Ones?”

“It sounds familiar?”

Don’t listen to her, the voice chimes in.

“The Mortis Gods were a powerful family of force-wielders. The Son embodied the Dark Side. The Daughter embodied the light side. And the Father held the balance between them until the Son grew too powerful. And then- Actually you know what? I’m not here to give you a kriffing history lesson. The bottom line is the Son cursed that amulet you’re wearing.”

DON’T LISTEN TO HER.

“Why is that a problem?” he asks, getting defensive.

“You don’t feel… different?”

Deny. Deny. Deny.

“No.”

In one swift motion, you’re grabbing a dagger hidden in your boot and reaching for the cowl of his cape. You rest the flat side of the blade against the fabric, glaring into his visor.

“So you don’t mind if I cut the chain off of you?”

Some innate instinct comes over him, the primal urge to protect what is now his. He swats the dagger from your hand, his arm looping around your neck and placing you in a headlock. His other hand reaches for the handcuffs on his belt, grabbing them and enclosing them around your wrists.

Good. This is good.

“What the”

Leave her here.

“What’s stopping me from leaving you here?” he says, tightening the headlock.

“Be my guest. But I’ll just say this– You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“And you do?”

“Yes. I’ve been researching this for many cycles now. You leave me here? You sabotage yourself.”

His grip around your neck softens and he slowly releases you, grabbing your upper arm.

What are you doing? I said leave her here. Stop-

“Fine, but you’re coming with me.”

He bends down and wraps his arms around your thighs, hoisting you over his shoulder. Din’s always been a strong man but everything he does feels so effortless. His senses are heightened. His reflexes are swift. He feels like he’s at his peak; the best version of himself.

You protest, banging your fists into his back but it doesn’t matter. He’s drowning out your angry shouts and listening to the voice.

Fine. Take her back to your ship and keep her as a prisoner. She’s nothing but a loose end.

He makes his way out of the underground cavern and back up to the surface, completely tuning out everything you’re saying. When you try to wiggle free he just tightens his grip, keeping you firmly pressed up against his body.

Once he’s on the surface again, he sees what must be your ship— or what’s left of it anyway. You crash landed here. In actuality, without Din, you’d be stranded here. And he doesn’t miss the opportunity to remind you that.

“Quit complaining,” he says, cutting off your shouts of protest, “Without me, you’d be rotting away here.”

You sigh and Din feels like he could almost hear you roll your eyes. His comment worked, though. Because for the rest of the journey back to the Razor Crest, you’re silent. Only muttering a few words under your breath as he sets you down on a crate in the storage area.

His helmet snaps towards you. He acts like he can’t hear what you said but the truth is he did. You muttered something about how he only cursed himself in the end.

“What was that?” he asks, crouching down in front of you.

“You have no idea what you just did to yourself.”

“And you do?” he counters, “Why is this necklace such a big deal to you?”

“Like I said before, it's cursed.”

“Cursed how?”

“It makes the wearer immortal. But if they were to take it off, they’d die.”

Don’t listen to her. It doesn't matter. No one is taking me from you.

“Did you say… immortal?”

“Mhm.”

“But… how can that be?”

“You really don’t know anything about this? You didn’t mean to put it on?”

“No. I was sent here to track down a bounty. I was expecting a person, not a piece of jewelry.”

“Who sent you here?”

“The client was anonymous.”

You lean back against the metal wall of the Crest, eyes wide and lost in thought. Din’s had enough of your questioning, though. Who are you exactly to question him while he’s just trying to do his job and get paid?

“Who are you?” he asks.

“Does it matter?”

“It does. Clearly, you know what this is. Were you after it for yourself?”

“No! That’s not it at all. I wanted to destroy it. I-”

She’s lying. Silence her.

Surely the voice isn’t telling him to kill you… Right?

Even if that’s what the voice is insinuating, he doesn’t do it. Instead, he grabs you by the arm again and hauls you to the carbonite freezer. You beg and plead for him to reconsider his actions but he doesn’t listen, drowning out your voice and following his instincts again. Soon enough, you’re encapsulated in the carbonite. Without a second thought, Din climbs the ladder to the cockpit and sets a course back to Nevarro. He sends a transmission to Karga, letting him know that he secured the “bounty” that way the mysterious droid will be back with the credits. There are only two things on his mind; collect his reward and learn more about his newfound power.

Part Two: Purge the Poison

Din lands on Nevarro with adrenaline coursing through his body. This is what this treacherous journey has been leading up to– the reward. He takes one last look at you frozen in the carbonite before leaving and heading back to the Guild. He’s not sure how this is supposed to work. He doesn’t have a bounty to deliver. He just has an object, bound to his neck that he allegedly can’t take off. He should be able to collect the credits, right?

Wrong.

The droid never returned.

“I don’t know, Mando. The droid never came back.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” The voice is noticeably quiet for once…

“All we can do is wait. I don’t have a way to contact the client,” Karga sighs.

Din leans back in the booth and closes his eyes. He’s not just angry– he’s enraged. But he keeps his cool, not snapping here in the Guild.

“You know where to find me,” he says, irritation heavy in his voice. He slips out of the booth and storms out of there, heading back to the Crest where you’re waiting for him, still encased in carbonite.

He’s filled with so much pent-up rage that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s bursting at the seams. It’s threatening to bubble up over the surface. It’s about to let itself loose and out into the world. It’ll tear him apart if he doesn’t do something about it.

I know what you can do about it.

He internally winces at what the voice is about to suggest.

Kill someone. Kill her.

He can’t and he shouldn’t. For the time being you’re valuable to him. You mysteriously have much information about the strange item he found on Malachor. Where did you come from? How do you know so much about this amulet? Were you lying when you said you wanted to destroy it?

Once he’s back inside the Crest he gets to work on unfreezing you. He watches as your carbonite slowly melts away, revealing your damp and shivering form. He catches you as you fall forward, keeping you upright. You’re blinking rapidly, searching your surroundings.

“Your vision will return,” he says curtly.

“I know,” you snap.

He forcefully grabs you by the shoulders and drags you to a crate. He sits you down but leaves your cuffs on. He walks to his bunk and grabs his blanket, draping it around your shoulders before crouching down in front of you.

“You’re going to tell me what you know about this,” he says, pulling the amulet out from under his flight suit but never taking it off, “And you’re going to tell me who you are.”

“I already told you what I know about it. You’re immortal until you take it off.”

“And then what? I’ll die.”

“Yup. I’ve been researching it for a long time.”

“Why? What put you onto this?”

“I’m a history professor at Coruscant University. My thesis was on the Mortis Gods which led me to the Son’s Amulet. I spent many cycles trying to figure out if it even existed and where it was hidden,” you explain, looking past his helmet.

“What were you going to do with it once you found it?” he asks, tucking the amulet away.

“Destroy it,” you say, meeting his visor.

“Beat you to it.”

“I know but now you’re the one who’s screwed.”

Don’t listen to her. Think of all the untapped potential you have.

“Whatever, mir’sheb.”

“Huh?”

“Smartass.”

“I’d rather be a smartass than a dumbass,” you retort.

“I am not-”

“You put on a creepy haunted necklace all because the voice told you to.”

He physically feels the blood drain from his face.

“You know about the voice?”

“Mhm.”

Silence her.

But he can’t kill you.

“I bet that voice is telling you to do all sorts of nefarious things,” you tease.

His fists clench and unclench at his sides. You and your smart mouth. If only he could take out his frustration on you. If only you weren’t so valuable to him. If only there were another way to relieve his tension…

“I’d stop talking if I were you.”

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” you counter, mouth forming into a smirk.

“Wipe that smirk off your face,” he answers.

“I’d like to see you try.”

You irritate the hell out of him but he can’t deny how attracted he is to you. Between the sly smirk on your face, the mischievous look in your eye, the little droplets of water beaded up on your skin, and how you don’t seem to be afraid of him even though you should be– Maker, it all makes his cock twitch with arousal.

It’s almost like the voice takes over with the way he swiftly rises from the floor, grabs you by the waist, and throws you over his shoulder.

“What the-” you start.

“Talk a big game, get punished,” he says nonchalantly, setting you down on his bunk.

You open your mouth to speak but you’re at a loss for words, face to face with his massive bulge. He undoes the fly of his flight suit, his cock springing free. You stare at its intimidating size, it's rock-hard and directly in your face. It leaves you speechless.

“Think you can handle it?” he teases.

Maker, he wants to grab your face and shove his cock down your throat– completely fucking your face. He can tell you want it, too, from the way you ogle it with wide eyes.

It’s not gonna suck itself.

He hooks a hand around the back of your head and wraps the other around the base of his cock, forcefully thrusting himself in your mouth. He lets out a deep, guttural moan at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth encapsulating his cock.

His hands move to each side of your face as he thrusts in and out. Your mouth stretches open even wider to accommodate his girth as tears spring in the corners of your eyes.

“Not smirking now are you, mir’sheb,” he says, your tear-filled eyes locked with his underneath the helmet.

You moan in response and he fucks your face even harder. Tears are rolling down your cheeks now and the sight has him ready to bust. With one last thrust into your mouth, he spills his cum down your throat, holding your head in place as he finishes. Once he’s done he pulls out and to his delight but your horror, he’s still hard. It’s the voice, the curse, or the amulet– whatever this is that has him so feral.

He has to see your body, he has to feel you underneath him. But you’re still wearing your cuffs. If he takes them off will you bolt? Will you make a break for it, leaving him here with his cock still wet?

He leans forward and unlocks your cuffs, anticipating your next move. He expects you to run but you don’t, instead you’re sitting here with a wild look in your eye. He reaches for the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head. He pushes you down on the bunk and hooks his hand around the waistband of your pants, sliding them off along with your underwear.

Look at her. She’s lying here so patiently, so obediently for you. Use this opportunity to claim her as your own.

He’s not thinking. He’s following whatever the voice tells him to do. He takes off his helmet, not even thinking about the repercussions he’ll face. He’s got two things on his mind; marking up your body and being inside you already. He sets the helmet down on the floor and takes off his gloves before hovering over you on the bunk. Your eyes widen when they meet his and a shocked expression washes over your face. But why? How do you know he’s taken the creed? Surely a history professor would know that there are all sorts of Mandalorians; ones that walk both ways. It isn’t until he looks over at the small mirror he has hanging on the wall of his bunk.

His eyes. Maker, his eyes. They’re no longer their usual shade of warm brown. His irises are a pale purple shade, eerily glowing. It startles him for a split second before his attention turns back to you, writhing underneath him.

He brings two fingers to his mouth and moistens them, spreading your legs apart and sliding them inside you. You gasp at the sudden girth of his thick fingers expanding your walls. He curls them against your g-spot repeatedly, your pleasure continuously building. In no time, he pulls your first orgasm from you, feeling the way your cunt flutters around his fingers. Your release soaks his hand and once he feels that you’re done, he pulls his fingers from you and soaks his cock with your wetness. In one swift motion, he thrusts inside you, giving you no time to adjust to the newfound length and girth. He plants his hands by either side of your head, locking eyes with you as he fucks you relentlessly, driving his hips into you at an unforgiving pace.

He leans forward and marks up your neck with his mouth, nipping and biting at the soft skin. He moves up and down before switching sides, licking where his teeth just marked you. You gasp and moan at the repeated pattern of biting, licking, and kissing. Once he feels his work is complete he pulls back and locks eyes with you once more.

You fall speechless, unable to form any real words besides deep moans and mangled sobs. Tears continue to roll down your cheeks, your mouth falling open into a soft O. He’s going to cum if he keeps watching you become reduced to a complete mess underneath him. Your walls tighten up around his cock in anticipation of a big release. He feels the way your cunt grips and releases his cock rhythmically. It draws his own orgasm from him, his cock spilling his warm cum with the head nestled by your cervix. He groans while letting out a string of Mando’a curse words that he himself can barely understand, not in his blissful state.

He pulls out and collapses on top of you, his head resting in the crook of your neck. You’re both panting against each other and once the endorphins finally settle regret sinks in. No, not because he had sex with you. Because he took his helmet off.

His chest heaves for a moment and he does his best to hide it, not wanting to seem weak after the power he just showed you. For some strange reason, he’s worried about what you’ll think of him– you who’s so irritating, who gets under his skin like no one else. Yes, he’s worried that your perception of him will change.

“Mando?” you ask, voice soft and concerned, “Are you okay?”

“I… I’m not supposed to do that.”

“Cum inside me?” you tease.

“No,” he says, pulling himself off of you and sitting at the foot of the bunk, “Take off my helmet.”

“Oh,” you say, sitting up and moving beside him, “Then why did you do it?”

“The voice told me to,” he says, placing his head in his hands.

You bring your hand to the back of his neck. At first, he stiffens up, not used to the feeling of someone’s hands there. But once your hand travels up to his hair, rubbing small circles against his scalp, he relaxes.

“You didn’t know? That the voice could make you do things you never thought possible?”

“No,” he sighs.

“You really had no idea what you were getting into, didn’t you?”

“Did you think I was lying?” he asks, turning his head and glancing at you.

“Honestly… yes.”

“I wasn’t. I was sent to Malachor for a bounty.”

“And the tracker led you to the amulet?”

“Mhm.”

“But why would someone send you there?”

“I’m not sure. I should’ve never taken it but the reward was high.”

“How much?”

“...A million credits. I know it sounds too good to be true.”

“Did you go to collect the reward yet?”

“Yeah. The client never showed up to pay.”

You fall silent for a moment, lost in thought. His eyes search your face for some sort of answer and once again, the voice is noticeably silent.

“Do you still have the tracking fob?”

He gets up and grabs it off a shelf in the storage area, sitting beside you on the bed and handing it to you. You activate it and study the mysterious absence of a bounty poster. You turn it off and hand it back to him, asking, “Was there anything else… weird about the job?”

“The client supposedly requested me specifically.”

“Strange…” you trail off.

Both of you sit in uncomfortable silence, trying to put all the pieces together.

“Why would someone want to make you immortal?” you wonder out loud.

Din’s guess is as good as anyone’s. He’s been trying and failing to wrap his head around what he got himself into.

“Mando… I think you were set up.”

“What?! By who?!” he asks, his purple eyes locking with yours again.

“I can’t answer that…”

“...Will you help me find out who?”

You pause, looking at him with a sort of pity in your eyes. Without saying a word, he pleads with you, his strange-colored eyes begging for help, something to save him from this impossible situation he’s found himself in.

“I really don’t want to but… You did save me from being stranded on Malachor,” you sigh, “But fine. I’ll help you.”

The two of you have to start somewhere.

Part Three: Legends Never Die

“If I’m going to help you, I think I deserve to know your name,” you say.

Do not tell her.

For once he can’t listen to the voice. This amulet, this voice told him to take off his helmet. Something he’d never do. His creed is the most important thing to him. And this… whatever it is overpowered his respect and devotion to his creed. That just won’t do.

If he’s going to get rid of this thing, he has to learn to trust you.

“Din Djarin,” he says with a sigh.

You tell him your name and the both of you feel like you’re finally starting somewhere.

“What do we do now?” Din asks.

“Well, we’ve established you were set up but we need to figure out why. What does this person have to gain from doing this to you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I know. I’m just thinking out loud.”

“You said this amulet is from one of the Mortis Gods?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know much about them.”

“They were just an extremely powerful family of force-wielders.”

“Where were they from?”

“Mortis.”

“Oh,” Din says, feeling kind of stupid.

He’s not familiar with this kind of stuff— the Jedi, the Sith, the Force. As far as he’s concerned, he’s just a regular person, trying to make a living in the galaxy by bounty hunting. He didn’t piss off anyone important that he can recall.

“Can you take me somewhere?” you ask, snapping him from his thoughts.

“Where to?”

“Coruscant. I think we need to make a little trip to the university’s library.”

He grabs his helmet off the floor and replaces it on his head.

“Let’s go,” he says, reaching for your hand to help you out of the bunk.

He helps you to your feet, letting you get dressed while he puts on his gloves. You follow him to the cockpit, sitting in one of the passenger seats while he prepares the Crest for takeoff. It’s silent between you two, an awkward silence. He’s unsure of what your relationship is exactly. At first, you were his prisoner. Technically, you still could be. And then he had sex with you and he feels awful about the implications in which it happened. You were handcuffed in his ship and at not only his mercy but the voice’s mercy, too. And now here you are, helping him when he’s been nothing but an asshole to you.

Don’t think like that, the voice tells him.

He can’t listen to it now. His own guilt is louder than the voice.

Once you’re in hyperspace he turns to you and says, “I just want to say… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For capturing you. For… what we did earlier.”

“You’re apologizing about the sex?” you ask with a smirk.

“I wasn’t sure if it was okay.”

“It was.”

“It was?”

“Stop overthinking it.”

“…Really?”

“You’re acting like I didn’t enjoy it.”

“You did?”

“Was it not obvious?”

“Yes. I mean no. I just…. I don’t know anymore.”

“Hey,” you say, leaning forward and grabbing his hand, “I know you have a lot going on in your head right now. And I’m sure a lot of it is confusing but I’m here to help in whatever way I can.”

“But why? Why do you want to help me even after I was so terrible to you?”

“I just… I feel bad. You had no idea what you were getting into. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“Of course. But don’t get sappy on me.”

“Got it,” he says, spinning around in his seat and facing the control panel again.

It doesn’t matter what you find, or what you research. You’re stuck with me.

All he can do is close his eyes and try to drown out the voice.

He’s walking side by side with you towards the university, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He’s anxious about what you’re about to find. But what’s his place from here on out? Is he supposed just to drop you off and reunite with you when you’re done? However long that will be…

Standing in front of the library, he prepares to bid you goodbye, confused about why he’s got a pit in his stomach.

“I guess I’ll see you when you’re done?” he says, mentally wincing in anticipation of your response.

“What? Why?”

“I just assumed-”

“You can stay.”

“I can?”

“If you want. I’m not sure how long it’ll take and it might be kind of boring but… you’re more than welcome to stay here with me.”

He pauses, thinking about what you said. He’s welcome to stay but do you want him to?

“Do you want me to?”

Kriff, he didn’t mean for that to actually come out.

“I do.”

“Okay then,” he says, walking into the library with you.

The library is packed with students and as you walk through the aisle picking books off the shelves, they turn their heads when you pass them by. He’s used to it but for some reason this time it makes him self-conscious, as if they’re piercing into his soul and aware of the secret he’s harboring.

After you have your collection of books you bring him to one of the study nooks in the back of the library away from all the prying eyes. He watches how your brow furrows when you’re lost in thought, scanning the pages for anything to help him out of this mess. He feels a bit useless, watching you pour yourself over book after book for hours on end while he sits and does… nothing.

You put your elbow on the table, resting your head in your hand. As you lean to the side, your neck becomes exposed and Din’s eyes settle right on a spot that looks like the perfect place to sink his teeth…

Stop, he tells himself.

But he fears the voice has taken over and he’s no longer looking at you with adoring eyes, but lusting ones instead.

Take her here, now. Bend her over the table. Who cares about anyone who sees?

His cock twitches in his flight suit and he doesn’t think he can take it anymore.

“Din?” you ask softly, setting down your book.

“Hm?”

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

“What do you mean? I thought you had to do research.”

“Well, yes but I can just continue researching in my office,” you say, eyes looking past Din and scanning the library.

“Why? Are you worried about people looking at us?”

“No! No, that’s not it at all. I just wasn’t sure if you were-”

“Who cares? But if you want a little more privacy then why not?” he says, standing from his seat and gathering the books.

He shuffles them to one arm and grabs your hand, proudly leading you out of the library without a single care in the world about who may be looking at him.

“Where to?” he says, turning to look at you once you’re outside.

“Across the quad in the North Tower.”

He nods and grabs you by the hand again, not caring about the people stopping to stare, many of whom are your students. You keep your eyes on Din, on the sunlight bouncing off his helmet, watching as his cape billows in the wind with his confident stride.

He lets you take the lead once you’re inside the building, walking up a grand staircase until you arrive at your office, a large room with high vaulted ceilings and towering bookshelves. Floor-to-ceiling windows draw natural light in and a long wooden desk sits in the center of the room. He sets the book down on one of your chairs and grabs you by the waist, setting you on your desk. He grabs the waistband of your pants and practically rips them off of you.

“So much for researching,” you say smugly, looking up at him with a grin.

“Gonna have to do something about that smart mouth of yours, mir’sheb,” he says darkly.

His hands gravitate to the bottom of his helmet. A look of realization flashes in your eyes and you reach your hands out, trying to stop him. But he’s stronger than you, grabbing your hands and forcing them by your sides. He pulls off his helmet, revealing the same matted curls and piercing purple stare. He spreads your thighs apart and kneels on the floor, face hovering over your cunt. He licks one slow stripe up your cunt before flicking his tongue around your clit. His strong arms lock around your thighs, keeping your cunt flush against his face. His eyes don’t leave yours, looking up at you as he slowly eats you out. The eye contact is intense, almost too much to bear. But when you try to look away he stops, starting to pull his face away until you look at him again. With one last swirl of his tongue around your clit, you cum against his face, thighs shaking against the desk. He laps up your release, moaning at the taste until you’re done. And now he just has to have you.

He stands up and pulls out his cock from his flight suit, stroking it a few times before gathering some of your release with his fingers and slathering his cock with it. He reaches forward and swipes away the contents of your desk, pushing you down so you’re lying against the wood. He thrusts into you in one slow motion, staying still inside you for a moment before drawing his hips back and slamming into you repeatedly. He pulls off one glove, tossing it on the floor and bringing his thumb to your clit. One hand grips your hip while the other rubs circles around your clit. He glares down at you, his body towering over yours as he rails you against your desk. You cum around his cock, eyes locked on his once again. The sensation of your cunt gripping his cock pulls his orgasm from him, warm cum spilling inside you with a grunt. He pulls out of you and sits in your desk hair, holding his head in his hands. You scramble off the desk and reach for his helmet, kneeling in front of him and lifting his head. He looks at you with the same look in his eye like last time, like he just let himself down. You replace his helmet on his head, cupping the hollow part where his cheeks would be.

“It’s okay,” you say softly.

“I know,” he sighs, “I would just like to do… that without feeling bad.”

“About the helmet,” he quickly adds.

“I know,” you chuckle, “I’m not offended. I get it. But I can’t lie and say that the eye contact wasn’t hot.”

“It was?”

“It was. But it would be hotter if it were your choice, not the other way around.”

“Right… Thank you… for understanding.”

“Of course,” you say, rising from the floor and grabbing your pants, “But back to business.”

“Back to business,” he agrees.

Months go by with Din glued to your side, helping in whatever way he can with the research. You think you might have found some sort of motive behind why someone would do this to him but the question of who is still a mystery.

“To travel to another galaxy?” Din asks.

“I think so. It’s just a theory.”

“There are other galaxies?”

“You think we’re the only one?”

“I guess not. But why?”

“That I still don’t know. And I’m just assuming about the traveling to other galaxies thing, too. The planet Mortis was said to be in a different realm.”

“Interesting…” he trails off. “How much longer do you think?”

“I’m not sure. If you think you have to get back to Nevarro, I understand.”

“I don’t want to leave you. But maybe I’ll go check the Crest for any transmissions.”

“Okay, sounds good. I’ll be here,” you say, looking up at him from your desk.

He caresses the side of your face, his gaze lingering on you before he leaves, walking through the campus and back to the docking yard where the Razor Crest is parked. On the way there, he thinks about his time here and how one good thing came from this… you. If he’s forced to be a monster all his life, at least he has someone that understands. But then there’s the other thing… He’ll be a monster all his life, until the end of time, outliving you and anyone else he may care about. He tries not to think about that.

Once he’s inside the ship he sees that he has a transmission from Greef Karga, which could mean one of two things; Karga’s got bounties and he’s wondering where Din is or the droid actually returned.

He presses the button for the transmission to play and listens;

“Mando! I’m not sure where you’ve been but the droid from that strange bounty returned… It didn’t bring the reward, though. It said his client will meet you where you captured the bounty in the first place. Strange request, I know. But supposedly the client will have the credits. Just be careful.”

Back to Malachor, it is.

He bolts from the Crest, anxiously heading back to you to tell you the news. You’re where he left you, of course.

“I have news.”

“Oh?” you ask, looking up from your book.

“I received a transmission from Karga. The droid returned. It said to meet the client on Malachor.”

“Really?”

“Yes… So what do you want to do?”

“We go to Malachor,” you say, rising from your chair.

“Let’s go,” he says, with a tip of his helmet.

As you’re sitting in the cockpit of the Razor Crest, you grab his hand as he’s preparing the ship for takeoff.

“Whatever happens… I love you, okay?”

He stops, turning to look at you, stunned by what you just said. He feels it, too, but it breaks his heart knowing that this love will end in one of two ways; he’ll outlive you or he’ll choose to take off the amulet. And both choices make him unsettled.

“I love you, too,” he says, squeezing your hand before turning to face the control panel.

This is it. Months of research have led up to this.

The familiar sight of Malachor comes into view. He lands the Razor Crest by the same pyramidal stones he saw months ago. So far, no sign of anyone. Surely they’re waiting for Din in the Sith temple, ending this where it all started.

He takes you by the waist, holding you as he lowers himself down to the temple underground. He gave you a blaster before you left the Crest, turning to make sure you have it drawn before proceeding further.

As you head towards the pyramid, someone from behind you clears their throat. You both spin around, blasters drawn and ready to aim at whoever’s there. It’s a man, someone neither of you recognizes. He’s wearing all black and his hair is gray. There’s a lightsaber attached to his belt but he hasn’t drawn it… yet.

“I’ve been expecting you,” he says, glancing at Din, “It seems you brought a friend.”

“Who are you?” Din asks.

“A Sith,” you say in disgust.

“Not a Sith,” the man says, looking over at you.

“Then why did you lead us here?” Din asks.

“Din Djarin,” the man says, “Do you know the significance of that amulet you’re wearing?”

“It belonged to one of the Mortis Gods.”

“Very good. And do you know why I sent you to find it?”

“You want to use him to travel between the galaxies.”

The man looks at you again, taking a step closer.

“Clever girl,” he says, “But do you know why?”

“I know you,” you say, looking at him and the way his face is illuminated with red light from the temple behind you.

“Do you?”

“You’re… You’re Baylan Skoll.”

“Clever, clever girl. Look at the two of you, both so smart. But neither of you have answered my question… Why?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. What could you possibly be trying to find in another galaxy?” you ask.

“Mortis?” Din adds.

“So close yet so far,” Baylan tuts, “Forget about Mortis. I’m searching for Peridea.”

Din looks at you, searching for answers but the truth is… you don’t have any.

“What do you want with Peridea?”

“To bring Grand Admiral Thrawn out of exile,” Baylan says.

“...Who?” Din asks.

“You’re funny,” you snort.

“I’m being serious. With the Mandalorian’s immortality, nothing is going to stop me.”

“Why Din?” you press.

“He doesn’t have the reputation of being the best bounty hunter in the Galaxy for no reason.”

“I can’t let you bring Thrawn back to the Galaxy,” you say, raising your blaster.

Baylan draws his lightsaber and ignites it, a vibrant orange hue emitting from the blade. Din raises his blaster, too, and a fight ensues. It doesn’t matter how much you shoot at Baylan, he just deflects all the blasts with his saber. He inches closer towards you, deflecting your blasts faster and faster as he corners you against a stone. He knows he doesn’t have to do anything to Din and he just assumes the voice will take over, forcing Din to join Baylan’s fight against you.

Join him and kill her. Join him and kill her. Join him and kill her!!!

But Din doesn’t.

Instead, he raises his blaster at the back of Baylan’s head. Baylan turns around, getting ready to defend himself against Din but it’s no use. With one blast to the head, Baylan falls to the ground. It turns out the urge to protect you was stronger than the voice’s pull to get him to join Baylan.

Din rushes over to you, putting his blaster back on his hip and pulling you into his arms.

“It’s… over?” he asks, feeling your racing heartbeat.

“I think so,” you sigh.

“But you’re stuck like this,” you say, pulling back and looking at him.

He knew it could end like this, with him living out his days without you once you pass.

Or… There was a third option all along.

“What are you going to do?” you ask, snapping him from his thoughts.

He fiddles with the chain around his neck before saying, “Take this off when the time is right.”

You nod, leaning against him just a little bit longer before leaving the temple together, hand in hand.

Mando dividers/support banners by @saradika-graphics !!!

Thank you to @pedgito for beta reading, reassuring me that this was any good, and helping me plot this all out 🖤

@pedrostories

#din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #pedrostories #star wars fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x you

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ichorai · 1 year

Text

would that i ; din djarin.

track twelve of WASTELAND, BABY!

pairing ; din djarin x gn!reader

synopsis ; din didn’t consider himself a very jealous person. no, he wasn’t affected at all when the kid seemed to want to spend more time with you than him. not even a little bit.

words ; 1.5k

themes ; fluff, mild pining, kinda sunshine & grump trope

warnings / includes ; grogu eats a frog, mando gets v flustered, reader jokingly calls him daddy lol

main masterlist.

Bag hitched over your shoulder, you tugged on your hiking boots, bending over to double-knot the laces. “Hey, I’m going out to the market to grab some spare parts for the ship,” you called to the brooding Mandalorian in the cockpit. You were met with a quiet grunt in response. Finished with your shoes, you straightened yourself up and peeked your head into the front of the ship, watching Din work on some frayed wires by the control panel. “I’m taking the kid with me.”

This made him halt in his ministrations, and he turned to you. “Isn’t it easier if he just stays with me? Keep him here.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you nodded stoutly. “Alright, lemme ask him. Hey, bub,” you cooed, picking up the tiny creature from his floating carrier and setting him on the ground, equidistant between the two of you. Grogu peered at you with wide eyes, before rounding his head to look up at Din, then looked to you once more. He let out a garbled noise of confusion. “You wanna go to the market with me or stay with Mr. Grump over there?”

Silent, Din watched as Grogu began waddling towards you, seemingly excited at the prospect of going out to explore.

With a hum of satisfaction, you scooped the kid up into your arms, shooting the masked man a victorious smirk, before striding towards the exit.

“Be back before sunset!” he barked out, earning him a mock salute from you, then proceeded to incoherently grumble under his breath about how going to the market was really a one-person job, whilst fixing up the banged up ship definitely required more than a single pair of hands.

Clementine flames licked at the air greedily, crackling as Din tossed another wedge of wood into the fire. The setting sun cast long shadows over the secluded, wooded area your little group was hunkering down in, sparsely lit with the heated glow of the fire and the cold luminescence of the distant stars in the sky. You sat on the opposite end of the fire, blowing warm air into your palms to ebb away the numbing cold sewn into your skin.

The kid was snuggled up to your side, cooing as he tried to grab floating embers of the fire that drifted past him, carried away with the frigid night breeze.

Din studied the two of you, his mask betraying no expression whatsoever. Though Din was a man of few words, he was also a man of keen observations, always entirely aware of his surroundings. He noticed the way the orange of the fire tinted your skin with a near angelic glow, how the rustling of leaves behind him seemed to perfectly accompany your tinkering laugh as you smiled at the kid’s ministrations, how your eyes brightened with all the galaxy’s light within your irises.

His attention was reluctantly drawn away from you when the kid waddled off to the side, having spotted a bulbish frog—which, presumably, looked like a tasty snack to him.

With a gentle smile, you got up and circled around the fire to sit beside him, foliage crunching beneath your haunches as you settled down.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, just audible enough to hear over the pops of the flames. “You’re thinking so loudly.”

There was a moment of silence, the quiet weighing heavily over the both of you.

“It’s nothing,” he replied finally. “Nothing to worry about.”

Not wanting to pry, you hummed in thought, about to tell him that you’d be all ears if he had something to say, but promptly held your tongue when you caught sight of the kid swallowing the poor one-eyed frog whole.

“Spit that out!” both you and Din ordered at the same time. You glanced at each other, and your shoulders shook as you began to laugh, the corners of your eyes crinkling with such genuinity that was rare to find these days.

You couldn’t see it, but a trace of a smile slowly appeared behind Din’s helmet.

The kid had finally fallen asleep—it took hours of you setting him firmly on your lap and telling him to shut his eyes until he began to relent, curled against your stomach and stealing your body warmth. Sleep was tugging at your own sleeves, whispering gentle static into your ears and weighing down your eyelids.

Din had passed by the two of you multiple times as he tended to the many laborious upkeeps of the ship, silent as a ghost, but his mere presence was loud enough for you.

It was only when the ship’s door slid open did you startle out of your half-unconscious state, blearily rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You glanced down at the small form on your lap, gently patting his little wrinkled head.

Carefully, you got to your feet and lowered Grogu into his floating carrier, tucking him into a mottled brown blanket with nimble fingers. The kid stirred mildly at the jostling movement, but settled down when you hushed him quietly.

Satisfied that he wouldn’t spring awake and scamper out of his carrier to swallow down more frogs, you left the ship, sliding the door shut behind you.

The night’s chill was stronger than it had been a couple hours ago, the cold steeping into your muscles and freezing your bones. The moon bathed the forest in a hazy, pearl-hued luminescence, reflecting softly against Mando’s armor. He was watching the vast, dark forest, broodingly quiet. You came to stand beside him, shivering slightly.

“Done with all your little errands?” you asked, trying your best to keep your teeth from chattering. You took his silence as an affirmative. “You really like keeping yourself occupied, huh?”

More silence. In the distance, a frog croaked.

“I would’ve been more than happy to help you if you’d asked, by the way. You didn’t have to do all that by yourself. I used to be a mechanic, you know?”

Din risked a glance to you, holding his breath for reasons unbeknownst to him. You looked awfully serene basking in the sweet cold of the night, which made his chest ache with a tender kind of longing he couldn’t quite put his finger on. A life he knew he couldn’t have, perhaps.

He tore his eyes away before he could dwell on that thought too much.

“What are you doing out here? It’s real cold out,” you murmured, angling your head to look at him. It sometimes frustrated you just how unreadable he was—not even considering the mask, he rarely ever gave anything away with his body language. You wondered what went on in his head. “Are you okay?”

For the first time since you came out, Din spoke. It was tentative and slow—fittingly cautious in nature. His voice sent a thrill up your spine—it wasn’t often that the two of you would genuinely converse about something other than the ship’s upkeep. “The kid likes you.”

A surprised look splintered through your expression. Of all things you expected him to say, that most certainly wasn’t one of them. “Well, yeah, I’d hope so. I love the little guy, even though he eats like a starved wampa.” You narrowed your eyes at him, the beginnings of a smile painting across the corner of your lips. “Oh, maker, you’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Before he could formulate a proper response, you stepped closer to him with a teasing glint to your eyes that he misliked. You patted his chest in mock-comfort.

This close, he could see the fine details of your features much more clearly—he noticed the small, faded scar across the bridge of your nose, slightly darker in color than the rest of your complexion, he noticed the soft curve of your cupid’s bow, and he noticed the slight arch to your eyebrows, as if expecting him to say something.

Oh, right. He should probably say something.

Din flushed hotly beneath his helmet, finding himself at a loss for words.

“I’m sure the kid loves you just as much, if not more than, he loves me,” you surmised, still with a teasing lilt to your words. “After all, we both know he considers you his guardian—if he could talk, he’d definitely be calling you father. Or, actually, that might be too formal for him—maybe daddy, or something. Pops, even.”

Din huffed, amused. “The kid wouldn’t call me daddy,” he deadpanned, finally finding his tongue.

You beamed devastatingly gleeful, and he could just about feel his heart disintegrating into sand and spilling through the crevices of his ribs.

“Why not? I think it suits you.” You shrugged, still grinning so wide it was a wonder your face hadn’t split into two. Oh, you were going to be the death of him one day. “I’m gonna head back in—I’m freezing my ass off out here. Good night, Din. Or should I say daddy?” You barked out a laugh, clearly pleased with your little joke, before trudging away from him, chortling to yourself along the way.

Din watched as you slipped back into the ship, your words ricocheting in his head over and over again. He exhaled heavily.

He was digging himself a deep hole here—and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to stop.

#the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fluff #din djarin x you #star wars fanfiction #din djarin imagines #din djarin drabbles #din djarin angst #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian x reader #sw fanfiction #sw fanfic #star wars fanfic #the mandalorian fanfic

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baddestbittyontheblock · 4 months

Text

pedro pascal fic recs

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

˗ˏˋ☆ˎˊ˗ nervous by @amazonabxtch pedro pascal x actress!wife!reader | reader as an adult (around her 40’s) and I wrote her as a latinamerican, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of unprotected sex, mentions of covid pandemic, a bunch of cuteness and fluff

-what was supposed to be a normal q&a, it turned into pedro teasing and making you blush

˗ˏˋ☆ˎˊ˗ the happiest place on earth by @pascallllllll1 pedro pascal x reader | pregnancy, suggests smut but no actual smut, 2k

-reader and pedro pascal have a daughter named Esmeralda and they go to disney for the first time. they dress her up in a Grogu costume and go visit the mando and everybody go crazy to see pedro and his daughter.

˗ˏˋ☆ˎˊ˗ flashing lights by @bbygirlpascal pedro pascal x fem!reader | 18+ nsfw (smut, unprotected, public sex, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, daddy kink)

-you and pedro are at a red carpet event and he just cannot take his eyes off of you the whole night so he's gotta do something about it.

˗ˏˋ☆ˎˊ˗ dizzy spells by @pascallllllll1 pedro pascal x reader | mentions use of IV’s/needles and unplanned pregnancy. age gap relationship (very legal), 1K+

-pedro being the caring and loving boyfriend he is forces reader to get looked at after experiencing dizziness and fainting.

˗ˏˋ☆ˎˊ˗ crimson tide by @pascallllllll1 pedro pascal x reader | blood, period talk, swearing, mentions over the counter pain medication, brief daddy kink(common this is about Mr “I’m your daddy” what do you expect?), unprotected sex

-reader gets her period and pedro helps;)

˗ˏˋ☆ˎˊ˗ the best kisser by @fooled-around-and-fell pedro pascal x fem!reader | romance, fluff, flirting, sex jokes

-you were interviewed by vanity fair for their lie detector episode which went viral.. and pedro happened to watch it as well.

˗ˏˋ☆ˎˊ˗ high by @writersblog20 pedro pascal x reader | smoking weed, drinking alcohol, age-gap, sexual tension, reader gets picked up, smut, p in v, no condom (please do use a condom), mention of panic and anxiety (just one sentence or so) oral female receiving, squirting, daddy kink, dirty talk, pet names, pedro being called: papi, creampie, blowjob, soft sex, soft pedro, overstimulation, aftercare and fluff, 4k

-after a very shitty day, your neighbor, pedro helps you to relax in every way possible

#pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #daddy pedro #pedro pascal blurb #fic recs #pedro pascal imagines #fics recs

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

A Fresh Start [1]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: use of fake name, reader is hiding from a shady past

Word Count: 4,506

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn't meant for everyone.

Chapter #01: TWO PORGS, ONE BLASTER

Chapter Summary: The Marshal is looking to hire a nanny, and you just so happen to be moving into the city.

“remember to live while you’re busy surviving.” -d.j.

Din Djarin was busier these days than he ever had been before. Even compared to years ago, when he was picking up dozens of bounty pucks and collecting quarries left and right, it was nothing compared to now. If he had known that being Nevarro's marshal would be so hectic, he may have never accepted it. At the thought, he sighed. That was a bold faced lie. He still would’ve taken the job in a heartbeat because the pay was better than anything he had ever made previously. Speaking strictly in terms of credits, it was significantly less than the various bounties he’d pick up, but the job brought him peace of mind. It brought safety to Grogu. More than just safety, it gave the child the opportunity to grow and learn in an environment where he wasn’t at risk. They had settled here a couple of months ago, and for most of that time Grogu had been happy and free of night terrors. It was a blessing Din couldn’t quantify. He’d work every second of every day if it meant the child grew up safe and loved.

At the thought of his son, he picked up his pace toward the repair shop run by Peli who had ventured from the sands of Tatooine to the growing and thriving Nevarro. She was usually the one who watched Grogu while he was working. When Peli couldn’t, there were a handful of others in town who were more than happy to help out. Din was eternally grateful that the community was willing to go above and beyond as a favor to him. In the beginning, he had actually brought Grogu with him on the job. It wasn’t absurd. Back in the day, when his journey with Grogu first began, he brought the child along on bounties. A day in the life of a small community Marshal was actually quite tame in comparison. Still, that wasn’t normal, and Din wanted normal. School would be starting up soon, as summer ended, and Din was excited to get Grogu enrolled.

He had a stable job and they had a home. Starting Grogu's education was the next step in establishing picture perfect normalcy.

The loud noise of Peli’s shop filled the air as he got closer. All three of the garage’s hanger doors were lifted and open, and Din could see it had been a busy day for the mechanic. Ships, speeder bikes, droids. There was a large collection of mechanical works being actively repaired.

“Peli! Marshal's here!” A mechanic barked out the moment he stepped into the garage. Din turned his way, but the employee didn’t bother looking up from the work they were occupied with.

Din pressed further into the shop. Helmet glanced around, looking for a blur of chaotic green, but his eyes didn’t land on his son. “Mando!” Din spun in place as the curly haired woman marched up to him. Peli was one of the few people in Nevarro who didn't refer to him as Marshal. She said she didn't want it to go to his head. Other mechanics dove out of the way to avoid her path. Though she was short in stature, Peli could command a room with voice alone. Her jumpsuit was covered in splotches of engine oil. “Took you long enough!”

“Peli.” Din nodded in greeting. “Where’s Grogu?”

“Your son,” Peli jabbed a finger in his direction, “ate a handful of bolts today.”

Din stiffened. “He what!? Where is he?”

“Just joking. He didn’t.”

“Peli, that isn’t funny.”

“It’s not a joke.”

Din resisted the urge to palm the front of his helmet into his hands. He let out a weathered sigh, “Did he eat metal bolts or didn’t he?”

“Not today. No telling about tomorrow.” Peli scoffed. “This shop is no place for a kid! I’ve been telling you that for weeks now!”

Din set his hands on his hips. “No, you haven't.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking it!”

The sound of familiar babbling alerted him to his son’s presence, and Din turned in time to see Grogu quickly waddling in his direction. Argument with Peli forgotten, he grinned and scooped up the child who continued to babble enthusiastically.

“Hey there, you little womp rat.” Din rubbed his belly and Grogu wrapped his arms around his hand in response. The sound of his laugh made Din chuckle himself. As important as his goal of normalcy was, Din missed the uninterrupted time he used to have with his son. There was a lot wrong with their previous adventures, a lot of danger, but nothing beat the long days in hyperspace and hiding where his only responsibility was to care for the child. “I heard you’ve been giving Peli trouble.”

Grogu laughed again⏤ not even attempting to hide his guilt. Peli wagged her finger in his direction once more. “You see? It’s only a matter of time until he swallows one of my tools. Then what would we do? I’d be a tool short!”

“I’m sorry, Peli.” Din chuckled. “School will be starting up soon. You won’t have to watch him during the day then.”

“He’ll still need watching after, won’t he? Your work day isn’t done until evening!” Peli argued. “And what about the nights when you get called into work?”

Din winced, but he kept his head still so Peli wouldn’t notice. She wasn’t wrong. There had been a handful of times when Din's presence was required at the station and he was forced to drop Grogu off with Peli in the dead of night. She lived in a small apartment beside the shop, and her shop was on the way from their home to the station. Stopping to leave Grogu with her was too easy to resist. It wasn't like he could leave the child at home alone.

Grogu began to tap on the side of Din’s helmet and he began to bounce the child in his arms to distract him. “I’m sorry, Peli. I really appreciate everything you do for us. You know that, right?” Peli waved his words away with a huff. As brash and grumpy as the woman could be, especially on a busy day, he knew Peli loved spending time with Grogu and he knew that complaints aside she’d always be willing to help out. It was why he was so grateful for her. “My hands are tied right now. I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Hire someone, you lug!” Peli scoffed. “Get a live-in nanny.”

“Live-in nanny?” Din questioned, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

“Yeah. Someone who can watch little bright eyes around the clock when you can’t. Someone who’ll be there at 3AM when you get called into the office. Why do I gotta come up with all the good ideas around here?”

Din didn’t love the idea, but he couldn’t deny the merits of it. Once upon a time, he would’ve shot it down immediately. However, he wasn’t who he once was. Din had learned that going out on a branch to trust someone didn’t always end bloody. The community was filled with people Din had taken a chance on and was rewarded in his risk. He had friends he trusted, and they never would've been in his life if he hadn't taken the risk in the first place.

“Where…” Din cleared his throat. “Where would I even find one?”

“Whoop, whoop!” Din and Peli both turned to see a mechanic a few feet away. They had been buried under a speeder bike but jumped up in excitement. Dirty goggles hung around her neck and the light pink color of her skin made the black grease stains stand out more. “Howdy, Marshal Mando.”

“Nima.” Din greeted with a nod. He didn’t know every single person who worked for Peli, but Nima was Peli’s right hand mechanic. The young Twi’lek was extraordinary with a wrench if Peli was to be believed, and Din knew it took a lot to impress the older woman. “How are you?”

“Real swell.” Nima stepped closer, rubbing her hands on a rag tucked into her overall pocket. “Not to be nosy, but I heard you got a job that needs filling and I have a cousin who needs a job.” Din tilted his head and waited for her to elaborate. “My cousin is moving here⏤ well, let me clarify, she’s not my actual cousin by blood. We’re cousins by marriage. Her mom’s sister married my mom’s brother. We⏤ wait, they actually got divorced like a year ago so I don’t know if we technically⏤”

“Nima!” Peli barked. “The point!”

“Right, right, right.” Nima shook her head. “My maybe not cousin is moving to town, and she’s looking for work.”

Din lifted a hand to lightly grasp Grogu’s hands as the kid tried to pry his helmet up. “Does she have experience with kids?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Nima nodded. “She’s a superstar with kids. Total magic.”

Peli slapped her hand against the beskar of his chest plate then pointed at him. Din sighed and gave them both a slight nod. “I’d be willing to meet her, but that’s it. No promises.”

“She’ll be in town by the end of the week!” Nima cheered. “I’ll bring her around!”

Grogu began to whine, and Din thanked both women before making his way out of the garage. It was time for dinner and the child was quick to get fussy when a meal wasn’t on its way. Plus, Grogu had gotten accustomed to nights in the privacy of their home when Din would remove his helmet. It had become a part of their routine.

“Buir, buir, buir.” Grogu chanted.

“I know, I know.” Din chuckled as he unlocked the front door. Once in, he used his free hand to pull his helmet off and tucked it under his elbow with a smile.

Grogu patted his face in excitement. “Buir!”

“Let’s get some dinner ready, ad’ika.” Din stepped further in. Hearing Grogu speak Mando’a warmed his heart. Hearing him speak at all warmed his heart, really. Din was convinced his son knew more basic and Mando’a than he’d shown. The few things he did say he only said in the safety of their home. Another reason Din was excited for school to start, he hoped it’d excite Grogu into speaking more.

Din set the boy down so he could move around the kitchen easier, and he couldn’t bite back the smile of ease on his face. He loved his life, he loved his son, and Din didn’t think things could get more perfect than what it was right now. He just hoped adding in a new face wouldn’t disrupt their routine.

You absentmindedly let your fingers trace the ugly, jagged scar along your collarbone. The wound had healed months ago, but there was something about the rough skin that haunted you. It didn’t hurt. If anything the tissue there was numb, and that bothered you more than anything else. For some reason, it felt wrong that you weren’t in pain.

The transport ship rumbled to a stop as it landed, and it snapped you back into the moment. You straightened in your seat and glanced out the window. A year and a half ago nobody ever spoke of Nevarro. It had been a blip in the Outer Rim for bounty hunters and those hiding from the New Republic. Now, it was a bustling trade post flourishing with life. From where your ship sat on the landing pad, you could see the white and gray buildings of Nevarro stretching out into the black, glassed land of the mountains that sat on the edge of the lava plains. It still wasn't a very large community. Not yet, at least. Your eyes scanned the land beside the landing pad. You had lived in the beautiful greenery of Naboo, the bustling cities of Coruscant, and the sandy dunes of Tatooine. This was vastly different in comparison.

You let a few others leave before rising yourself. As you followed the very small crowd off the ship you stretched your legs out best you could without stopping. It had been a long trip from Mos Espa to Nevarro. The second your feet stepped onto the landing pad you heard your name being screamed by a familiar voice. It was almost odd to hear it said aloud after so much time, but the voice of your old friend kept you from flinching. A broad smile crossed your features and you barely had time to turn before you were tackled in a hug.

“Oh, I missed you so much!” Nima cheered in your ear. She squeezed you tight enough that all you could manage was a small pat on her back considering she had your arms pinned to your side.

“I missed you too.” You wheezed. “And now I’m beginning to miss air.”

Nima released you, taking a step back, and you sucked in a large breath. She bounced in place, her pink lekku whipping around her, “I’m so happy you’re finally here! It’s been way, way too long!” It was true, and seeing Nima brightened your mood significantly. “How was your trip-”

The beginnings of your name began to slip from her mouth, but your hand snapped out to cover her lips. Her eyebrows rose in confusion, and you just offered her a sheepish smile. "Soran. Call me Soran. Remember?" Her eyes widened and you could see a flash of regret in her eyes. She had simply forgotten. "It's okay. No biggie. Just... Soran, okay?"

"I'm so sorry. I just got so excited." Nima apologized. "Don't worry, I didn't use your real name with anyone in town or anything." You nodded and made your way to where luggage was being placed on the landing pad from the storage bin. Nima walked a step behind you. You scooped up your bag, wrapping it around your shoulders, and Nima looped one arm through yours. "I'm so happy you're here."

The words were said with such sincerity that it warmed your heart. It made you wish you had taken her up on her offer ages ago. She began to drag you across the landing pad toward the start of the town. Her cheery attitude and happy-go-lucky demeanor was contagious. She was talking up a storm, something about work, while you gazed at the street you walked down. The path was paved and the street was filled with people milling about happily. A few vendors sold goods in the open at stalls, and you could hear the music of a band from further down the street. It was a cozy and warm atmosphere, and it wasn't the kind of place you expected Nima to settle down.

You met Nima during your teenage years when part of her family married part of yours. The two of you had grown close and without a doubt she was one of your closest friends. Family really. It was why at your absolute lowest you had caved and accepted her invitation to join her in Nevarro. Nima worked at a local mechanic shop which turned out to be her calling. She had always been good at tinkering with anything mechanical, but she was thriving under the instruction of the woman she worked for. At least, that's what she was constantly telling you. Nima had found her happy place, and you were ecstatic for her.

“⏤and Peli is still awesome.” Nima continued. “When we're not busy, she's letting me work on this old Razor Crest with her. It's some sort of secret project and the ship is in really bad shape, but I'm learning so much. It’s the best job ever.”

“That’s amazing, Nima.”

“Oh! And speaking of awesome jobs, I got you one.”

Your eyes widened. “Huh?”

“A job and a place to live. I got it covered.”

“Wow. I’m…seriously impressed, Nima. So, that means your boss is okay with me helping around the shop with inventory and stuff?”

Nima paused, then cursed in her native tongue. “I knew I was forgetting to do something. I was supposed to ask Peli about you.”

“If you didn’t ask her if I could work there, then where am I working?” You questioned in confusion.

“So, the Marshal has this super cute kid, and he needs a round the clock nanny.” Nima gave you a thumbs up. You blinked in shock, unable to find the words to voice your disbelief. She took this as a victory cheered. “I knew you’d love it.”

You shook your head. “No, no. This is a bad idea.”

“What? No way.” Nima shook her head with a pout. “You need a job and you need a place to live. I got you both in one. Two porgs, one blaster.”

“I⏤That’s⏤You said it wrong.” You said.

Nima furrowed her brow at you. “No, I think you just don’t get it. It means, like, you have two problems, the two porgs, and one solution takes care of both. One blaster.”

“It’s two porgs, one stone.”

“Why would I use a stone to hit a porg when I have a blaster?”

“You wouldn’t, but if you had a blaster you could shoot way more than just two porgs.”

“Yeah, but you only have two porgs right now.”

You waved your arms in the air as if you could swipe away the pointless argument. “This is⏤ No. We're done with that. My point is, this is not a good idea. I’ve never been a nanny before. The last time I baby-sat a kid was literally ages ago, and it was for a few evenings. I didn't live with the kid or the family.”

“You’re great with kids. I’ve seen it!” Nima argued in your favor.

“Being good with kids is not the same as helping raise one.”

Nima shrugged. “Nuance. Besides, everything else in town right now is part time work and you said you wanted a full time job.” You had said that. The more time you spent busy, the less time you had to think. That was the plan at least Bury yourself in pointless work. “I mean, you could pick up the job of local physician.”

You stiffened. “Nima⏤”

“Our main doctor sucks. Like you wouldn’t believe. Laziest asshole this side of the Outer Rim. It's the one fault of Nevarro in my opinion.” Nima scoffed. “You would do so much better⏤”

“Don’t.” You said firmly, and Nima grew quiet. “I’m not… I’m not doing that right now. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m not allowed to⏤ to⏤” You cleared your throat. “I’m not allowed to practice medicine until the trial is over. Officially.”

Nima squeezed your arm. “The trial will be over before the year's end, at the latest, and there is no way they aren’t throwing that kriffing asshole in jail for the rest of his miserable life.” This was the exact thing you wanted to avoid. It’s literally why you ran away in the first place. “Nothing about what happened was your fault.”

“Nima, can we not?” You blurted. “I just…” Your lungs felt heavy and even though you were more than capable of breathing none of the air you sucked in was rewarding. “Tell me more about the job. The Marshal’s kid.”

Nima shot you a concerned look before nodding. “Right.” She forced a smile onto her face. “He’s a Mandalorian and his son is a 50 year old precious, green gremlin.”

“Um, what?”

Nevarro was shockingly beautiful. You had heard it was, and that it was slowly becoming a staple of the Outer Rim, but hearing it was different than seeing it with your own eyes. The population was about four thousand and it was constantly growing. Every single person you passed took the time to greet Nima, and she took the time to introduce you. It hadn’t been an exaggeration when Nima said it was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone. The two of you emptied out at the end of a street into a large, open plaza. In it's center sat a tall bronze statue of a droid.

“That's the Magistrate's building.” Nima pointed to the tall, intricate building behind the droid statue. It was active with people going up and down the stairs that led into the building. “Magistrate Karga is super cool. He used to hand out bounties to hunters. Wild shit.”

“So, the Magistrate was an Agent of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild and your Marshal is an actual Mandalorian?”

Nima nodded. “The Marshal's Deputy used to be a Shock Trooper.”

“Wow. I’m not sure I’m qualified to even live here.” You mumbled.

“Don’t be silly. You’ll fit right in.” Nima slotted her hand into yours and began to drag you down the street. She had taken you to her small apartment first, to give you time to set down your belongings and wash up, but she was quick to pull you back out into the streets. It was cute how eager she was to show you around Nevarro, and you could tell between her and everyone you met how proud they were of their community.

Nima pointed out a few shops as you passed, but it was clear that her aim was to take you to the Marshal's station. You shot her a dry look that she only grinned at in response.

“Seriously?”

“He needs somebody super soon and you need a job. Plus, a place to live. You think I want you on my couch for the rest of your life?”

You shoved her with a laugh. “I haven’t slept on your couch a single night yet, and you’re already tired of me?”

“Just come on.” Nima dragged you building nestled amongst others. It was decorated similar as the rest of the town with white bricks and dark blue flags.

The Marhsal's station wasn’t overly large. Outside, parked to the side, were a few speeders and inside the front doors was a small lobby with a woman sitting behind a desk. Nima greeted her by name, introducing you in a rush, before pulling you through. The receptionist didn’t seem surprised by this behavior and didn’t make the moves to stop either of you. You wondered if Nima came barging in here often. Was she close to the Marshal?

The hallway from the lobby led into a clean and brightly lit room. The back wall was made of windows where the lava plains could be seen since the station was at the edge of town, and there were three desks planted in the center of the room. Off to the left side were two cells, cordoned off with silver bars, and you found yourself happy to see no one was currently being held in custody. Despite having the cells present, the entire room had a casual feel to it. A dart board was hung up on a wall, darts sticking out of it, and the desks were covered in office supplies and holopads.

“What’re you doing here, trouble maker?”

“Cara!” Nima cheered as a large woman stepped into the room from a different door. She untangled her hand from yours to rush over and greet this Cara woman with a hug. She was tall and broad, and the tattoo band around her right upper arm hinted to you that this must be the Deputy Nima mentioned earlier. The ex-shock trooper. She surely looked like someone who used to work in that line of action. “I brought my cousin by to say hello!”

Cara’s dark eyes rolled over to you in amusement. “Yeah. I see the family resemblance.”

"This is Soran." Nima introduced you with the name you had adopted months ago for the sake of anonymity. “And this is Deputy Cara Dune. Resident badass.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” You offered your hand. “Can I call you Cara or do you prefer Deputy badass or…?”

Cara chuckled. “Cara works.”

“Where is everyone?” Nima glanced around the room. “I’m looking for Marshal Mando.”

“Hey, Mando!” Cara yelled back through the door she came in from. She marched past the two of you to drop down into a chair at a desk. She rested her hands behind her head and casually kicked up her legs. “Our generator out back keeps cutting out.”

Nima's eyes widened, curious, “Oh, yeah?”

“It’s been a wreck since early this morning.”

“Cara, it’s making that noise again. Can you call Peli?” A deeper, modulated voice called out. You straightened in your posture as a Mandalorian dressed in silver beskar stepped into the room. Everything you knew about Mandalorians came from legend and stories. You had never met one before. The Marshal’s broad figure and confident, yet casual pace, screamed power. A blaster was hooked to his hip. He was the picture of intimidation, and you’d find yourself nervous if it weren’t for the baby carrier strapped around his chest⏤ the one with a large eared, small green toddler tucked safely in place. It cooed happily with his hands wrapped around the fingers of the Mandalorians gloved hand.

Nima clapped her hands. “Don’t bother Peli! I’ll fix it right now!”

“I’ll show you where it’s at.” Cara pushed up.

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out and you watched in shock as your friend abandoned you with the Mandalorian and child. You blinked in shock, mouth held open. Suddenly, Nima stuck her head back in the room. “Oops. Mr. Marshal Mandalorian, this is my cousin I was telling you about.” She grinned at you. “Cousin, this is the mighty Marshal Mandalorian and his adorable green bean child I told you about.”

With no further words, she left once more. You were gonna kill her. Most definitely. The sound of a throat clearing made your eyes snap back to the man standing across from you. His silver helmet had a t-shaped visor of black glass that gave you no hint at the expression he wore. The two of you just stared at one another for a long moment. Awkward silences were the bane of your existence and you tried to avoid them at all costs. To a fault, arguably. You thrust a hand out to him with a nervous smile. "Hi. You can call me Soran. I'm the cousin Nima always talks about, but I'm not her actual cousin, er..."

"Right." The Mandalorian replied. He shook your hand. "Call me Mando."

"Mando? Like, short for Mandalorian?" You chuckled, and he didn't reply. You rubbed your hands against your pants. Thank the Maker, he had been wearing gloves and couldn’t feel your clammy palms. If you hadn't already decided to murder Nima for abandoning you in this situation, you would've chosen to do it for offering your services to this man. A service you weren't even qualified for. Still, you needed work, a lot of it, and if this was your best option you'd do what you'd have to. “So, is this your son?”

At the question, the child began to babble happily. His adorable, nonsensical words were a good distraction from beating yourself up over asking such a stupid question.

“Yes. This is Grogu.” He responded. The modulator gave his voice a husky quality that was hard not to notice. Grogu was still babbling, but now he released his father’s hands to reach out to you. He opened and closed his hands in a grabbing motion and at the small child’s request you couldn’t help but lift a hand up to him. Grogu grasped at your finger and you offered him a small smile. “Nima says you’re looking for a job.”

Your eyes snapped up from the kid to Mando. “Uh, yes. I am.” It was silent between the two of you again, save for Grogu’s happy voice. “To be honest though…" Your brain screamed at you to lie. Tell him you had an extensive history of babysitting and were well suited for the job. However, lying had never come natural to you. It always left a terrible taste in your mouth. You sighed, "I’m by no means a professional nanny. I’m actually not even an amateur one.” Mando didn’t respond or move his head in any way to hint his thoughts. You cleared your throat. “What I mean is, I like kids, and I’m responsible enough to keep one alive." You winced at your wording. "I just- I’m a quick learner and I'm dedicated to the work I put my mind to.” Grogu tilted his head in the cutest manner you had ever seen, but his father stayed silent. You let out a low whistle. “I am not doing a very good job of selling myself, am I?”

As seconds passed, you were tempted to throw yourself out the back window and find the nearest river of lava to jump into. Just to hide from your embarrassment. Finally, he spoke, “Where are you from?”

Your eyes widened at the direction his question took this conversation. “Oh. Naboo. I was born there, grew up there too, but I lived in Coruscant for a long, long time. Only recently moved to Mos Espa on Tatooine. That's where I just came from.”

“What kind of work do you usually do?”

As if this casual interview couldn’t get worse. You rolled various answers around in your head before settling on the best thing you could. “I worked in a medical clinic.” He was quiet and you assumed that meant he wanted more. As much as you hated lying, as terrible as it made you feel, this was a necessity you reminded yourself. This kind of lie wouldn't hurt anyone. It would protect you, keep you safe. “Receptionist." You blurted. "I scheduled appointments, re-supplied the stock, counted out credits. That kind of stuff.”

“Work…keeps me busy.” Mando said. “I just need someone else around. Keep an eye on the kid while I’m out and sometimes at night if I get called in.” Your eyebrows rose. “I haven’t ever hired a nanny before. I’m... not sure what it’s supposed to entail or the usual pay. I just need help.”

You nodded. “I can do that. I can be helpful. I’m not sure of the pay either, but I’m also not picky. Maybe just a trial period, and see how it goes? A learning curve for both of us.”

Mando nodded in agreement and held out a hand for you to shake. A sigh of relief left you and you tried to pull your hand away from Grogu who refused to let go of your fingers. You lifted your opposite hand to awkwardly grasp his outstretched hand and shook it once. You didn't quite know how to feel about this acquisition. This wasn't where you thought your life would end up. The thought of starting this job filled your belly with nervous energy. You had to succeed at this. Honestly, you were just happy the Mandalorian was willing to give you a chance. More than anything that was what your life needed. A chance. An opportunity. A fresh start. On the plus side, learning how to do a completely new job would be a good enough distraction from your past, surely.

A/N: if you see this on AO3 and think ‘omg she stole this’, I promise I didn’t. That’s me on AO3 too. Pinky swear.

#the mandalorian #din djaren #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #Female reader #mandalorian and grogu #grogu is a little shit #but a cute little shit #cara dune #peli motto #nevarro #star wars #i'm still stupid bad at tags #but whatever #protective din djarin #good dad din djarin #nanny AU

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ilovepedro · 5 months

Text

Woven in the Stars | din djarin x f!reader

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Chapter 1 - Stitching Serenity

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2.5k

Chapter summary: As he adjusts to life on Nevarro, Din Djarin ventures into town with his son, Grogu, to gather supplies to finish settling into their new home. While shopping, he has a chance encounter with you - a local seamstress. The two of you make an instant connection, as he's drawn in by your beauty and kind heart. After striking up a deal with you, Din heads home after a long day, where suppressed feelings of loneliness and desire arise.

Chapter warnings: slow burn, domestic!Din, dad!Din, mutual pining, yearning, loneliness, bit of flirting, inaccurate star wars info, male masturbation, Din Djarin is referred to as Din and i’m not sorry, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: happy mando monday! we’ve got another series, babes! buckle up - we’ve got mega pining incoming. Din is a very special character that i hold close to my heart. 🩵 he is so complex, and i want to handle him with so much love and care. i hope y'all enjoy this introduction to the series! feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments or in my asks/dms 🫶🏼

Divider by @saradika

Light blazes through the cracked window, his room rapidly warming up from the brutal Nevarro heat. Din stirs as he hears his son babbling from his room right next to his. Rising to his feet, he pads into the next room, greeted by an excited Grogu. Din scoops him up out of his bed, and carries him into the kitchen.

Grogu’s been babbling a lot more, Din is curious if he’ll say his first words soon. He fixes up Grogu’s breakfast and sets him in his chair at the table along with the food. Making sure his son doesn’t choke while eating, he makes a mental list of things they need to get today at the market.

Beams, wire, fence lining.

Grogu spills some of his breakfast on his tunic, eliciting a sigh from Din.

New clothes for Grogu are added to the list.

After breakfast, Din changes Grogu out of his messy tunic into a spare one he keeps in the drawer for laundry days. Settling Grogu back into his tiny bed, which Din so proudly made himself, he places his favorite ball and a stuffed frog Greef Karga had gifted to him inside to keep him occupied while he gets ready.

He trudges into the refresher, turns on the shower and strips down before stepping into the water. While scrubbing, Din makes another mental list of chores he needs to do around the farm.

Tend to the yard, give the starfighter a tune-up, begin building the fence around the pond.

He steps out of the shower and dries off. Dressing in the refresher, he slips back out into the hall and back into his room.

He’s still adjusting to this new life, never knowing such tranquility and domesticity before. They haven’t got much yet, but he’s trying his best. Wanting to give his son a new, calmer life after all they’ve been through.

Sliding on his helmet and tacking on his remaining equipment, he slings the sack Grogu likes to occasionally ride in over his shoulder. He pads back into Grogu’s room, scooping up his gurgling son as he’s entertained with his toys, and placing him into his pram. The clan of two sets off on a long day of gathering things for their new home.

Sauntering into the markets, the clan heads in the direction of the hardware stand. Buying a few beams, wire, and a few sheets of metal fencing to build a fence surrounding the pond in his front yard. Din efficiently packs the supplies together and slings them on his back.

The fabric stand catches his eye, noting that he and Grogu do need more clothes, and even some new bedding.

As Din peruses through the selection of handcrafted items, picking up a new set of sheets for himself and garments for him and his son, Grogu wanders off in his pram to the stuffed animals.

Din perks up at Grogu’s babbling, seeing that his son has picked up a stuffed bantha. “No, Grogu. Put that down, we’re only buying things we need right now.” Grogu’s ears droop as he whines. “We’ll come back in a few days. I promise, kid.”

“Do you need help with anything?” A sweet voice breaking through the bustling air.

You appear from behind one of the cloaks that are hung up on display, kindly smiling at him and Grogu. Din’s breath hitches in his throat at the sight of you. You look radiant, ethereal - your beauty rendering him speechless for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Uh, no, ma’am. Is this your stand?” He asks, feeling flustered.

“It is. Do you like that one, baby?” You ask, crouching a bit to get on Grogu’s level, who’s cooing at your words. “Take it, sweetheart. It’s okay,” you gently tell him.

“Oh no, I’m sorry. We’re only buying necessities today. Will you have any more next week?” You smile up at the mandalorian. “Nonsense, it’s on the house,” you tell him, giddy as a toothy grin plasters your face. “I’m afraid I can’t accept, ma’am. Thank you for your generosity, but-”

“You mandalorians are always so cordial. I insist it’s on the house. It’s alright, sweet boy. Go on, take it,” you say. Grogu squeals and squishes the stuffed bantha into a bone crushing embrace, your heart melting at the sight of the little green child.

“Thank you, ma’am. That’s very kind of you. Could you at least let me pay for it?” You playfully roll your eyes. “Is your helmet sound proof or something? It’s on the house,” you smile, winking at him.

Thank the stars Din wears this helmet, or else you’d be able to see how red he is underneath.

“I surrender. You drive a hard bargain. I’d at least like to pay for the clothes and these sheets. Are you the seamstress in charge, ma’am?”

You perk up at his question. “I’ll allow you to pay for the clothes, and that I am!”

You’ve got a bit of a spunky personality, from what Din can gather.

“Do you happen to take commissions? These shirts will fit him fine, but if it’s not too much trouble, could I possibly ask for some smaller ones that’ll fit him a little better? I’ll even pay double whatever you normally charge,” he rambles. A twinkle glints in your eyes, your face hurts as you can’t stop smiling at the flustered mandalorian.

“I do take commissions. And no need to pay me double, I’m more than happy to help at whatever price works for you,” you kindly respond. The mandalorian huffs out a modulated chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thank you very much, ma’am. Could I stop by tomorrow with him to get his measurements? We’ll be in town again gathering more supplies for our new cabin. We’re still settling in and I want him to have enough clothes,” he tells you.

“Sure! I’ll be here for the next week until dusk or whenever I sell out, whichever comes first. Are you liking Nevarro so far?” You curiously ask, wondering if he’s got a spouse at home.

“We are. It’s a much quieter life than our past one, but… it’s a nice change. Just want to make sure the kid has everything he needs.”

You nod at his answer, unable to stop the next words tumbling from your lips. “Does your spouse need any custom garments as well, or just your son?”

“No spouse. It’s just me and my son,” he quickly blurts. Your smile reappears at his answer, silence brewing amongst you two. Grogu’s gurgling cuts through the air, both of you turning to look at the excited child in his pram.

“You’re a good dad,” you softly tell him.

“Thank you. You’re a very kind woman. Thank you for being so kind to my son,” he quietly says, fondly staring at Grogu who is occupied with his new toy. “Of course. I can tell he’s a sweet kid. Also helps that he’s adorable. I can fold those by the way,” you say, hands out awaiting his items.

“Oh, thank you very much,” the mandalorian says gratefully, intently watching you fold his purchases as he searches for his next words. Not wanting your conversation to end just so he can hear your sweet voice.

“Do you make those stuffed animals as well?” The mandalorian asks you. “I do.”

“You’re very talented,” he compliments. Now it’s your turn to feel flustered, heat surging throughout your body - and it’s not from the blistering Nevarro heat.

“Thank you very much,” you gracefully tell him with a bashful smile, silently asking for the items in his hands

“I might just have to commission you for one of those as well,” the mandalorian says as he hands you the credits for the sheets and garments as you fold them.

“Apologies, as well, for not introducing myself earlier. I’m…Mando. It was nice meeting you,” Mando says, trailing off at the end while packing everything into his bag.

The market bustles now, making you shuffle a bit closer to him so he can hear you, as you timidly give him your name. He quickly repeats it, burning it into his memory. The gap between you both having grown smaller. Catching a whiff of your sweet perfume, Din’s knees nearly buckle.

Of course you’re the embodiment of sweetness - and he longs to have a taste.

Flashing him your dazzling smile, you stick your hand out, awaiting his grasp. His face grows hot as he shakes your hand, both of your touches lingering. You gaze deeply into the slit in his helmet, hoping he can sense a sliver of desire from you.

You shuffle even closer, nearly fully flushed against his beskar. “It was nice meeting you too, Mando. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Your voice hushed, your words only meant for him to hear.

“Yes, we’ll be back in the morning,” Mando says just as quietly. Your smile softens as you glance down to your conjoined hands. You pull away, realizing your hold on his hand lingered for a tad too long.

He clears his throat before turning to his son. “Come on, Grogu. Let’s go,” he barks, causing Grogu to snap his head up and look at his father.

“Bye, baby! Oh, hold on a second!” You say, fishing in your pocket and pulling out a piece of candy. “Here you go!” You squeak as you hand him the sweet treat. His eyes light up and he gurgles in excitement. He hurriedly takes the candy from you, unwrapping it to shove it in his mouth.

“Grogu, what do you say?” His father sternly asks him. Grogu looks up at you and babbles what you think is his version of ‘thank you.’

“You’re welcome, Grogu. Bye bye!” You giggle as you wave off the clan.

Din makes one last stop, purchasing some things to make dinner. He carries his bag of garments and sheets in one hand and the bag of ingredients in another as his hardware rests on his back. He lugs everything back home as Grogu entertains himself with his new toy.

Opening the door, Grogu rushes in first in his pram as Din trails behind and shuts the door. He tosses the bags onto the couch and settles the hardware in a corner of the living room. Grogu babbles as he plays with the bantha you gave him, giving Din the perfect opportunity to quickly cook him some soup for dinner.

It’s different not living out of ration packs, and actually having time to cook a real, hot meal. Domesticity is so foreign to him. The thought of sharing this new life with someone - with you - quickly infiltrates his mind. His mind swirls as recalls his encounter with you today while making dinner.

How did you become a seamstress? What’s your story? Do you give away stuff for free to other customers? Or was it because you’re interested in him? Is that why you had asked if he had a spouse? Or were you just being polite? Why does he care so much? He hadn’t thought about the other merchants this way, but there is something about you that has pulled him into your orbit, making him unable to shake you from his mind.

Grogu’s cooing pulls him from his trance, the soup he’d prepared had boiled over while he reeled through his thoughts. Din exasperatedly cleans up the mess and serves Grogu dinner, who scarfs it down the second it’s placed in front of him. As his son eats, Din continues reeling.

He’d been fine with being alone all these years. Why is he starting to feel this way? He and Grogu have been living here for a few months now, so why is he suddenly feeling a sense of desire? Longing? Even loneliness? Could it be the paternal instinct to provide more for his son? Or could it simply be you?

A tiny burp drags him back into reality. Grogu tiredly yawns, his belly full after a long day at the market with Din. His eyes droop, along with his ears. Din scoops him up and heads to Grogu’s room. He places the green child in bed, placing the stuffed bantha you’d gifted him alongside him.

Din shuts the door and walks into his room next door. He continues to think of you while stripping his armor. He’d suppressed his feelings of loneliness for years now, but something about you had brought them to the surface.

Perhaps it was the way you treated Grogu with such sweetness, so maternally. Or perhaps it was your divine beauty which shines so brightly, penetrating from within your kind heart into the external realm. Whatever it may be, Din could not seem to shake the overwhelming feelings of yearning and loneliness - needs craving to be fulfilled by someone, by you.

Sighing as he removes his helmet, he changes into sweats and opts to sleep shirtless tonight. Padding into the kitchen, he puts the dishes from dinner into the sink, grabbing a glass in the midst of everything.

He knows his son is a Jedi and can overpower him at any moment, but Din still places his spotchka on the top shelf of a cabinet. He just hopes for the best and trusts Grogu won’t get into it.

Swiping the spotchka from the high point, he pours himself a hefty helping and chugs it. Helping himself to two more glasses, he begins to feel the effects, his eyes glazed over and heavy.

Placing the spotchka back on the top shelf and his empty glass in the sink, he walks back to his room and pulls his blanket back. Settling into bed, he still can’t get you out of his head.

His cock twitches at the thought of you, palming himself through his sweatpants. Images of you flash through his mind as he takes himself out of the confines of his sweatpants. His length springs out and bounces onto his stomach, thumping in the processing.

Din spits into his hand and winces as he strokes his cock. He’s so hard it hurts. Closing his eyes, he sighs as he strokes himself up and down, gathering the bead of precum that has dribbled from his tip and smearing it along his length.

The memory of you smiling as you appeared from thin air has him thumbing at his sensitive head. Your sweet scent lingers in his nose, smelling of florals, candy, and a hint of musk. He picks up the pace at the recollection. His breathing grows ragged as he remembers the glint in your shimmering, kind eyes. A fire burns in his veins, balls throbbing as he nears the edge.

He recalls how his skin felt electric beneath his glove as you shook his hand. The thought of your lingering touch sends a jolt of lightning through his veins as he replays the sweet sound of his name fluttering from your lips.

He wonders if his real name would sound just as sweet.

At that thought, he teeters off the cliff and plummets into his orgasm, painting his stomach with his spend while he groans your name. There’s so much cum, he’s definitely going to have to use his new bedding tonight.

He swims through the treacherous waves of his climax, sweat sheening his body. His hair sticks to his forehead and the back of his neck, a heady bliss crashes over him as he tries to catch his breath. He hasn’t cum that hard… ever.

He pants as he throws an arm over his face. Attempting to steady his breathing, he exhales a deep sigh. He’s never been so frustrated with himself. He’s always had more self-control, more discipline when it came to his desires. It’s unbelievable, and downright embarrassing, how quickly he caved at the thought of you. He doesn’t even know if you’re interested in him that way. It’s not like he could give you everything you deserve either, so long as he follows the Way.

Rising to his feet, he pads into the refresher to clean up the mess he made on his stomach. He heads into the living room, rummaging through the bags he carried in earlier. Slipping into the new pair of pants he purchased from you, along with grabbing the new sheets, he trudges back into his bedroom. He strips the bed and replaces the sheets with the ones you crafted and sold to him.

Groaning, he plops himself onto the mattress and stares at the concrete ceiling. Scintillating moonlight shines through the cracked window while the embarrassment and guilt sink in.

How is he supposed to face you at the market tomorrow?

An exhausted sigh rumbles from deep within his chest. He's never been more eager to wear his helmet ‘til now. He turns on his side before nodding off - hoping for a dreamless sleep, one free of you.

thank you for reading! may the yearning begin 🫡 i’m setting these two up for a slow burn hehehe

we will learn more about reader and her story in the next chapters!! i just wanted to introduce Din’s mindset after settling into a calmer life with Grogu

i want to delve some more into Din’s mind and examine his loneliness since we only catch very brief glimpses of it in the show. we know he gets lonely though, an example being apart from Grogu for 2 years. he’s a human after all underneath all that armor. a complex one at that with being an orphan and having to hide himself all the time.

anyway, i hope you enjoyed! let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters <333

tag list: @gracieheartspedro @undrthelights @tinygarbage @party-hearses @bastardmandennis @nostalxgic @pascalpvnk @javierpena-inatacvest @mandoisapunk

#fic: woven in the stars #din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin smut #din djarin series #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader #mando monday

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happy-beeeps · 1 year

Text

To Build a Home

WC: 4.2k

Pairing: din x reader

Synopsis: You’re on the hunt to make this house on Nevarro a home, but you’re wrestling with feelings of inadequacy in you and Din’s relationship after he adopts Grogu but doesn’t take you as his riduur. Fluffy, emotional hurt comfort, domesticity, slice of life, Din is a fisherman for 30 seconds.

Warnings: none really! Vaguely ooc Din but I think I got it back. Ever since that one episode of The Bad Batch I’ve just been dying to send Din fishing

A/N: HAPPY MAY THE 4TH!!!!

Fun fact, when I started this blog three years ago it was because the Mandalorian had just come out and people had only just started writing Din fic. I was in the trenches with the other mando fic pioneers. Technically this is the same reader as my first ever longfic “I don’t do droids” which I’ve semi abandoned BUT I do plan on making a better spin off version soon! It's not at all necessary to read that to understand the reader’s backstory though!

* * *

You’ve been to markets before. The familiar fast paced environment had always been something of a vice to you when you traveled with Din, the reprieve from being crammed on the crest or a short expedition for something to snack on. Once or twice Din himself had even accompanied you, with the baby wrapped around your chest in a bundle of fabric, his hand interlaced with yours. Now, though, you’re alone for what feels like the first time in years. You’re wandering through the market at a speed so slow it’s almost comical, taking time to touch, to see, to hear.

It’s exhilarating.

Nevarro has grown since you had first been here, and you can’t say it’s been particularly easy for you to return, to immerse yourself in a system that’s caused you so much pain. There are nights you find yourself thrashing at the sheets at the image of Din’s body crumpling under fire as the rest of you were forced down through the halls of the covert, or the ice that filled your veins when you realized your son had been taken. That Nevarro is gone, however, up in ash like the volcanos that dot the landscape of this system. You have a home here, a real house, and you’re determined to make it into something to rid both you and Din of your nightmares.

You left Din and Grogu at the house and took the small speeder he had been restoring for you back to the city center, parking it just outside the bustling square, ready to go if need be. Old habits die hard, you guess. The city itself now brims with life, families duck in and out of each other as they weave through the streets, droids pull carts of fresh produce. It’s all very exciting, very reassuring.

“Lady Djarin!” A booming voice calls, one that stops the people nearest to you as they part ways to make space for the figure coming through. Greef Karga walks through the parted crowd, offering handshakes and smiles to those he walks past, before coming to stop at you and extending his arm. “Going shopping?”

You blush slightly at the moniker, Din had been clear that you had been made part of his clan and while you were by no means married, you appreciate the sentiment. “You know if I let Din make decisions on the house it’d stay as barren as the day we moved in.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he chuckles, escorting you through the streets and alleys. It really is beautiful here, with overflowing greenery practically spilling out of the windows of the residents, flowers of numerous bright colors dotting shopfronts and the hair of those who walk past you. “Have you been to our markets before?”

You glance at him and quirk up an eyebrow. “Have I ever had much time for shopping when we’ve been on system?”

“You’ve got a fair point.” He leads you farther, until you approach a colorful alley with storefronts boasting fruits, silks, and small goods that stretches farther than you can see. “I recommend the flowers from the Togruta woman halfway down, if you were to pick some up,” and pats your hand before leaving you to your own devices. He knows you well enough at this point to know that you aren’t unable to defend yourself, and that you do occasionally appreciate the rare moments you get away from father and baby.

It’s not that you don’t love them both dearly, you do, so much so that you keenly remember the feeling of bringing a vibroblade up to the chest of Moff Gideon before you were quickly thrown aside. You’ve got the scars to prove it. You adore them. You also needed a moment of peace, to think and feel and make a home out of the house you were so graciously gifted. Besides, you can’t help but feel a little lost in your place in life now, as the dust has settled. Din had clearly adopted Grogu as his son, a fact you really couldn’t be happier about, but where did you land? You had waited with baited breath for him to ask the Armorer to add you to their song, but he hadn’t. Instead the three of you left soon afterwards, planning to meet up at Nevarro after he went to talk to an old friend with the New Republic. You had grown to resent his little two seater N-1, much preferring the space of your trusty fighter.

You walk down the alley, stopping to feel the fabrics and scarves that line the booths. One stall boasts brightly colored blankets, and you rustle through the soft blankets before you find a warm cream color dotted with tiny, multi-colored, embroidered flowers.You hand the shopkeeper the credits, and continue to walk down the street, doing your very best attempt to not buy everything you touch, though you aren’t sure you’ll succeed.

“Fruits! Fresh fruits here!”

“Instruments for the finest songstress!”

“Silks and scarves, keep warm when the sun sets!”

“A treasure for the finest student, primers for language!”

It’s this last seller that stops you in your tracks, reminding you of the reason you first met Din anyways. Sure, your role had grown now, twisted into something beautiful and pure, but aside from being lover, mother, confidant, and pilot, you were at your core, his translator.

“What languages do you offer?” You say, walking into the old man’s small storefront. It’s cool inside, with walls painted a deep blue with light blue outlines of nearby star systems, like a map projected. He’s got datapads and even a few books of flimsi strewn around, tucked into cupboards, as well as collectibles from systems you could only dream of visiting.

“What language do you need?” He grins, pulling out a datapad from his pocket and opening a menu that seems to scroll for years. “I offer most standard tongues, as well as a few more useful in the outer rim. You strike me as someone who’s looking for something a bit more unique.”

“I’m a translator by trade,” you say, scrolling through the offerings until you find something that stops you. “Standard is my craft.”

“A scholar then,” he pauses, and takes the datapad away from you. “When was the last time you learned a language for yourself?”

“I learned Kaleesh when I was younger,” you shrug, and the shopkeeper laughs.

“What does a woman like you need a war-tongue for?” “All the best people in my life are fighters.”

“Perhaps the language of a friend then, a spouse?” he offers, and you stop in your aimless wandering around the shop. Of course, how could you have been so stupid.

“I’ll take one basic primer, for a child, and anything you’ve got on Mando’a.”

Your arms are beginning to tire from the amount of things you’ve picked up: you’ve got toys for Grogu, fruits and vegetables, some meat for dinner, the blanket, your downloads, a few silks to hang for drapery, seeds, and a rug that’s set to be delivered in a rotation. You’re about to turn back, content with the amount of credits you’ve ran through in a day when you notice her, the Togruta woman and her flower stand. She’s inarguably stunning, with wide eyes and lekkuu that stretch down her chest, her markings intricate and carved down her face in an eye-catching way.

“Hi,” you begin as you walk up to her, she’s pruning a bright orange flower now, and she glances up from her work to offer you a smile. “Your flowers come highly recommended by magistrate Karga.”

She scoffs and sets her flower down, offering you a worn hand to shake. “I’m Obesha.” She gestures to the blooms bursting from her cart. “What are you looking for?”

“Well, I’m relatively new in town, me and my,” you struggle to find the word. Din isn’t your spouse, but he’s more than your boyfriend. Frankly, lover feels a little too intimate for this woman you just met. “Companion and our child just settled outside town and I’m looking for something to brighten up our home.”

Obesha grins, before plucking a variety of blue, yellow, and white flowers carefully, tucking in pieces of greenery amongst them. “Turning a house into a home is one of the most challenging, yet rewarding things a being can do.” She gingerly plucks at the leaves, pruning it to perfection, before wrapping the bouquet up in a light gray cloth, which for some unbeknownst reason feels softer than anything you’ve felt before.

“What is this?”

She hums and turns back into her shop, coming out with a larger swatch of fabric, this one decorated with finely worked sheer lace, dyed the same blue-gray as the fabric on the outside of the bouquet. “It’s custom in my village to wear these for special occasions,” she pulls the wrap up to model it on herself, and you’re struck by the way the light filters through the lace. “It’s deceivingly warm and very beautiful.” She folds it up into a small square before handing it to you, “consider it a housewarming gift.”

Your mouth falls open as you struggle to reach into your bag for the credits. “Please, let me pay you, I have the money.”

She extends a hand forward to hush you, then gestures back down the alley. “Pay me back by letting me know what your family thinks of my arrangement.”

* * *

You’re distracted your whole ride back, which you admit probably isn’t the best thing for you to be as you navigate the desert. It’s not a particularly long ride to your home, which you’re grateful for, and you smile as the familiar form of the ships parked outside the small cabin beacon you in. Din and Grogu must not be home, considering he usually rushes to you to take anything you’re carrying and you can typically hear Grogu’s coos before you see him. It isn’t a surprise then, when you walk in to find the house empty, and notice the small message flashing on the datapad he’s left behind.

Gone fishing just down the springs.-D

It’s a habit he’s picked up after the brief time the two of you spent apart, when Grogu went to live with the Jedi and Din went off on his own. He came back to you quickly, finding you easily while you worked as a translator on Tatooine, with the daimyo you and Din had gotten to know very well. He never left without a message again once he had you back, and you smile as you swipe the note away.

“Time to organize!” you clap to no one in particular, and begin setting things up around the home. You tuck the new blanket in along you and Din’s bed (a concept that still feels so foreign after the places you’ve been sleeping recently) and the toys on a shelf in the small room you’ve begun calling Grogu’s nursery. The rest is relatively simple, tucking fabrics along windows and placing fruits in the kitchen. You put the bouquet down in the middle of the small table, and are sure to add fresh water to the vase. It’s really coming together, you have to say. The cabin isn’t particularly large, the majority of the house consisting of one large room that works as kitchen, living, and sleeping space (which you’ve done your best to section off,) a small ‘fresher off towards the back, and the small room you and Din have given to Grogu. It’s perfect for your little clan of three, and you don’t find yourself wishing for more from the space, settling down on the couch and digging into the Mandalorian language pages on your datapad.

You aren’t sure how long has passed when your legs want for movement, and you set the datapad down and opt to go find your fishermen. It’s still blazingly hot on the surface, so you forgo the small shawl and walk towards the direction of the springs. You and Din had both dipped in them on your first night here before you realized the springs died off into a small, cooler pond a short walk away. There, Karga had explained, there was a thriving population of fish and other reptiles that were open for fishing.

You spot them before they spot you, Din’s shiny helmet reflecting in your direction. It’s another thing that’s had your gut twisted in on itself. You’ve seen Din’s face, the day Grogu left you had seen it. In that moment you had fallen deeper in love than you realized even possible. You were absolutely supportive of him and frankly, you were elated he’d been able to be welcomed back into his covert, but you couldn’t help but feel like an absolutely terrible person for it. Honestly, you hadn’t expected this move to domesticity to churn up so many emotions for you, particularly when this is the thing you’ve basically been dreaming of since the two of you first kissed.

Now, he’s perched on a rock, pole in hand, while Grogu sits on his knee, eyes fixed on the pond. You walk up quietly behind him but years of experience have him turning his head to spot you walking. Grogu turns too, and you can swear he gurgles out something to the effect of “buir!” as he bounces up and down on his father’s knee. You move in to scooch beside Din, who happily makes room for you, as you run a hand down the side of his helmet.

“Hi,” you breathe, and his hand, not on the pole, moves to find your fingers.

“Hi.” He murmurs back, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I got some things for the house,” you lean over to scratch Grogu’s ears, “Got some stuff for bug and some food for dinner.”

“Can I cook for you?”

Your cheeks bloom at the words, “Sure, I’ve never had your cooking.”

“Never really had the space to do it,” he shrugs, “but I do now.”

You settle into a comfortable silence after this, and he sets Grogu down to splash in the edge of the pond and rests the fishing pole on the side of the rock. With his hands free, he heaves you up onto his lap and slides his arms around your waist. “Did you get anything for yourself?”

“One or two things,” you wave a hand in the air, “got a language learner for Grogu, thought we could try and teach him basic.”

“Please, as if we need to give him more ways to say ‘No’” He groans, but you can tell from the shake of his shoulders that he’s laughing, and he pulls you in closer to his chest. “We haven’t caught anything all day.”

“Mmm… so he clearly doesn’t get his patience from his father.”

“No, he gets it from his mother.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. Sure, you know you’re his mother, but hearing those words, after the adoption, it floods you with a warmth that has you wishing you could just kiss him right now.

“Cyare,” he starts, his hand coming to rest on your cheek, but is disrupted by the sound of violent splashing. You both jump up just to see Grogu standing at the edge of the pond, fish in hand.

“I guess only one of you had trouble today,” you nudged him playfully before going to scoop up the baby, while he dropped the fish in the pond.

It’s been dangerously quiet inside the house, and you’ve been relegated to sit out on the small bench on the front porch. You appreciate Din cooking but the simple fact that you aren’t entirely sure he knows how to cook slipped your mind when you agreed. Now, you try not to think about that fact, and dedicate yourself to the datapad in your lap. You’ve seen some familiar words, buir and cyare, even the diminutives Din calls you late at night, cyar’ika and mesh’la. You’ve always wanted to pick up his mother tongue, and you want to kick yourself for not doing it sooner. Now, you’re devouring it, trying to learn it all. It’s a rich language, more complex than most you’ve learned. You’re so wrapped up in your reading that when Din opens the front door you jump, and he leans forward to grab your hand, guiding you out of the chair.

“I think it’s done?”

“You aren’t inspiring a lot of confidence here,” you laugh as you walk inside, sitting down at the table next to Grogu. Din brings over the pot and you peer in. He’s done what looks to be a solid job, the vegetables are chopped a little more rough than you could’ve done, and you can tell the meat is slightly overdone, but considering it comes from him, you spoon it onto your plate like it’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten. You pour some out in front of Grogu and you feel Din’s eyes practically burn holes in your head.

“Yes?”

“I want to know if you like it.” He’s so quiet, the voice sounding almost shy. You reach over and place a hand atop his.

“There isn’t a universe where you make something I don’t love.”

You both begin eating in silence, (his use of seasoning is surprisingly impeccable, and the meat is only a touch rough) when he starts up again. “The flowers are a nice touch, and the drapes.”

“Thank you,” you blush. “I just wanted to warm it up here.”

“Maker knows I don’t know what I’m doing, we’re lucky to have you.” He reaches over and taps you on the chin before turning his attention to Grogu, running a rag on the table across his mouth as he manages to smear every bite of food across his face.

After dinner, the two of you work to clean the kitchen while Grogu plays with one of the new toys you brought for him in the living room. You and Din are chatting, about nothing, about everything, when the warmth of the moment hits you, and you lean your head on his shoulder. He’s since dressed down to just his helmet, and you can feel the warmth of his skin radiate beneath his shirt. “This is nice.”

“What, dishes?” he laughs, but you can feel his arm snake loosely around your hips as he sets the last plate down.

“Just, this” you gesture to the house, to the pile of dishes, to Grogu playing, “it’s nice to have a home.”

“I already had a home,” he pulls you in closer, you can smell the sweat of the day and his spiced aftershave from where your head falls on his chest. “When Grogu falls asleep, I want to take you somewhere.” He pushes his forehead on yours, before moving to sit on the floor with Grogu, leaving you standing in the kitchen, grinning like an idiot at the scene before you. This is your family, your clan. Husband or not, Din is the love of your life, you’ve lost him and the baby once and you don’t intend to do it again. You set down the cleaning rag and join the two of them on the floor, happy to oblige in whatever game Grogu is playing.

* * *

“Where’d you get that?” Din asks as he leads you down the rocky sides of the springs.

“The florist, it’s shockingly warm.” You pull the shawl tighter around your form and Din stops suddenly. You're back at the pond from earlier only now it looks different. There’s a small blanket strewn across the rock you had sat on earlier, and he scrambles to light a few assorted candles that litter the ground. Even the scenery appears to have changed, as tiny yellow lights dot the air.

“They’re actually tiny lifeforms,” he says, gesturing to the yellow dots, “Karga told me they come out at night over here.”

“It’s beautiful, how come we haven’t been here yet?”

“Just waiting for a good time to get you alone.” He pulls you closer to the rock and the two of you sit down, your back pressed to his chest as you watch the sky turn a deep purple color as the yellow lights dance in the sky. You sit like that in silence for a moment longer when his voice comes out, rumbling and warm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong, why?” You sputter, and you want to smack yourself for how incriminating that sounds.

“You’re hiding it, and hiding it well. But something’s wrong,” his voice comes low to your ear now, still modulated and heavy but him. “What I don’t know is why you won’t tell me.”

“I’m… It’s really not a big deal.”

“Can I guess?”

“If you want.”

“Well,” he breathes in, like he’s holding his breath, “I commed Bo.”

You whip your head around at that. He must have been really concerned to enlist the help of one of your favorite Mandalorians.

“Oh? What did Bo say?” “That I’m a nerf herder.”

You snort at that and settle into his chest again. “Sounds like Bo.”

His hands come up to turn you towards him, and he pulls your legs so you're facing him, your legs wrapping around his waist. You’re close like this, if you leaned forward you could rest your forehead against his. “You doubt me, what I feel for you.”

“That’s not really the way I would put it,” you murmur, and he closes the gap for you, bringing his helmet to your head. “I just was worried… that I wasn’t a part of your clan. You’ve adopted Grogu, and that makes you his father. But I’m just-”

“His mother. Cyar’ika, I haven’t been fair with you.” His hands move to press small circles into your back. “I shouldn’t have let you feel doubt in me, in our clan. You are to Grogu as I am. You’re my-”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” you breathe, and it’s your turn to cut him off, whispering the sweet words to him in the echo of the world. You can hear his breath hitch as he grabs you tighter. “I’ve been practicing all day.”

“You don’t need to speak my language to be a part of me. You already have been for longer than I can say,” he murmurs, and his hand goes to the back of your head. “Gar solus ner aliit, gar solus but buir.”

It takes you a moment to catch up with the translations, the sweet words he’s whispering, and Din uses this moment of thinking to bring both his hands up to his helmet, disengage the locking mechanism, and pull it off, resting it on the rock beside him.

“Din!” you shout, and smack your hands over your eyes, but he’s faster than you and catches your wrists in your hands.

“Look at me mesh’la.” And you do, you drink him in with everything you have, bringing your hands to trace his lips, his nose, eyes refusing to leave his. “I finally have something to offer you.” He whispers, his lips so close to your ear that you swear you’ve died. That must be the case. You’ve simply ascended into the great beyond. “I didn’t add you to the song on Mandalore because I wanted to have something to give you, something to promise you forever.”

You look past his shoulder to the silhouette of the cabin. “Our house.”

“Our home.” He holds your cheeks in his hands, and you can tell he’s been as starved of this as you have. “You’ve made it a home.”

His lips are on yours in an instant, and you’re devouring him like you’ve been starved. Sure, you’ve kissed him since he put his helmet back on, but the weight of all of this, of his helmet being gone, of you seeing him again, it’s like the first time all over again.

“Din, your creed.” You murmur between kisses.

“Save me the trip back to Mandalore and marry me then.”

You pull back, searching his eyes for any joke, and you want to cry when there isn’t one.

“I told you, when I had something to offer you.”

You’re laughing and crying now as he fiddles with the lace hem of your shawl before delicately draping it across your head. “My riduur.”

Even with your expert knowledge of linguistics, the vows are clunky and foreign in your mouth, but with Din smiling at you, you have no complaints. He scoops you and his helmet up almost immediately, walking you back into the cabin and tossing you onto the bed. He breaks from your gaze for just a minute to go into the nursery and emerges with a sleepy-eyed Grogu.

“Hi baby,” you croon as Din places him on the bed and he waddles towards you.

“He loves his buir” Din whispers as he falls into bed beside you. The little green cover stealer is quick to settle between you and his dad, his hands reaching out to press on both of your foreheads. You look over at Din, whose eyes are once again finding yours.

“Welcome home.” He whispers.

You mean to tell him that you love him, that you’re happy to be married to him, but sleep

finds you first. Not that it matters.

He already knows.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din x reader #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mando

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nerdieforpedro · 5 months

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Sard’ika Sessions

Session One

Fanfiction 18+

Main Masterlist | Sard’ika Sessions Masterlist I Din Djarin/The Mandalorian Masterlist

Summary: Your first session with The Mandalorian test both of your boundaries.

Warnings: Din Djarin in his own warning, currency for sexual services, HANDS, slight body worship, thigh-riding, temperature play, beskar use, body insecurity, limited eye contact, fingering, overstimulation, angst (always), liberties taken with The Way and Creed, discussion of pregnancy prevention, no name use (Din will call reader by nicknames)

Notes: I’ve wanted to write for Din for a while. He’s one of my favorite Pedro Boys I hadn’t written any fics for until now. The Star Wars world is huge and has such a significance for pop culture in general. It’s all intimidating, but this idea wouldn’t let my brain go. So I had to write it to get it out. This is The Way.

I did use some Mando’a in this fic. Kept it limited to a few words because despite researching I still found it confusing and didn’t want to mess up too badly:

The suffix of (‘ika) denotes turning a word into a nickname but should only be used in private.

Sard’ika = flower (reasoning behind this nickname is explained in later sessions)

Mesh’la = beautiful

Word Count: 2,384

The Mandalorian is aware that you listen for his heavy footsteps. Always ready at your door in what he requests, a simple green slip. Depending on his tastes for the time spent with you, he may want simple cotton or a more decadent silk. He is well aware that he is using you for his own desires. He tells himself that this is what you’ve agreed to and it is mutual use. He pays you in credits after all.

His idle thoughts concern him.

Half of them are of his charge - his son who is training with a Jedi. He misses him dearly, the little whomp rat troublemaker changed his life, if asked, the Mandalorian may admit that his son led his beskar clad body to you.

The other half are reminiscing of what he has done with you and planning when he can do it again. Possibly with new accessories.

While he was talking to Greef about yet another bounty payout, Grogu had wandered over to you, poking your calf. He allowed you to pick him up and talk to him, hold him. This intrigued Mando. After he finished with Greef, he was walking over to you to reclaim his son when he heard you tell the child, “What I wouldn’t do for some more credits? Honest work doesn’t pay much little one. I’m only good at hunting numbers.”

An offhand remark. You may have been joking, but he remembered meeting you before, a few times. On a few occasions, if Greef was busy in some meeting or whatever that man did, you’d be the one to confirm his bounty objective was met and issue his credits. Mando did attempt to control more carnal desires with self-sessions while the child was asleep and with visits to the pleasure house, though due to his beskar, he drew attention.

Your soft curves, delicate looking skin and wide hips enticed him. Not soft spoken, he enjoyed the way your voice echoes in his helmet when you speak, he may have recorded your short greetings to listen to at later times. Eyes that betray your interest in the enigma that the Mandalorian knows he is. It’s one of his largest advantages. He wonders what exactly you want to know about him and is it the same bodily knowledge he seeks. After hearing your comment, he eagerly awaits when Greef either cannot or will not meet with him. The reason matters not. It means he’ll be able to speak to you directly again.

The day comes. The shock on your face is adorable, the warrior wonders what other faces you are capable of making and what actions will inspire them. He was ready to appeal to your expressed need for money to his son and possibly a deeper interest you may have held in him. He wasn’t sure about the second part. You inform him of the location of your home, to come after you finish your shift. Already knowing when your shift ends, the bounty hunter arrives ten minutes before you do. Explaining that the oncoming person was later, you apologize, there was no need, but he thanks you anyway, grateful that your curiosity aligned with his.

Entering your home, it’s simple, but decorated with pictures of plants and planets. It appears lived in and he finds that cute like you. The Mandalorian wants to break you in slowly, no need to rush things. He finally has you to himself in private.

“The only items I will remove are my gloves. Understood?”

Your compliance is appreciated with his boundary and with your clothes. Erect nipples speak to him, gloves are off and his large hands each hold a breast. Massaging them is its own reward for his patience, months have passed since he’s felt another person’s flesh. The low hum from his helmet as his hands begin to roam your body is palpable, he watches as you shudder from his touch.

Leading you over to your small loveseat, he sits, hands running down to your thighs. Pushing them apart, observing your slick, curious about its taste. The visor turns upward to you, “Sit on my thigh. Make yourself come Sard’ika.” (flower - nickname) Watching you hesitate, the hunter taps his right thigh and holds your hands, placing them on his shoulders. “Use my armor to show me the sounds you are capable of sard’ika. I chose you for your plush body. Do not delay, no credits if I am not satisfied.” His tone is stern with a hint of desperation. He’s close to having you in the first position he wants.

Nodding, your knees place themselves on both sides of his armored thigh, their cool surface has you let out a soft, “Ahh. Mmm.” Your hum as he feels your body start to relax has his calloused hands run across your skin from your thighs to your hips. The Mandalorian had wanted to hold the jiggly flesh since the first time he saw you get up from your desk to go wherever the credits are held. His helmet had hid each time he licked his lips, and undressed you with his eyes, your hips wigged, still easing yourself down on his thigh. The warrior is finding himself impatient, and lifts his thigh to finally touch your wetness. A soft chuckle is heard as you gasp from the temperature change, but it feels wonderful. You hadn’t realized how hot you were, your continued hums you made, biting on your bottom lip to not scream in front of him. Sliding up and down this man’s precious beskar. Protection that he wore and used day in and day out being used now for pleasure, specifically yours was swelling your chest with pride. A sudden slap to your ass, interrupting the squelching sounds of your cunt against the metal finally made you yell out. This pleased him greatly, he did not want you to be quiet, but he would tell you later, he wanted you to focus on continuing to drip on his beskar so he would smell it when he went on his next bounty. “M-Mando, what else do you want me to do?” You asked meekly, your core was starting to clench against nothing, desperate to have something to press against. His helmet tilted.

“You haven’t soaked my thigh yet Sard’ika. Do you require my help to do so?” His voice was amused seeing your face, watching you try to not only keep yourself quiet but appeared to be looking away from his helmet. “You can ask for my help. In return, you must climax and look at my visor.” Your nod did not move him, grinding your wet cunt on his metal only gave you so much, just a little push, any added stimulation. You decided since he hadn’t moved, you would, pulling on his shoulders afford a new angle forward so your nipples would brush across his breastplate as now not only was your slit in contact with his beskar but so was your clit.

“I-I can do-do it. M-Mando.” Through staggered breaths you informed him that you would finish your task he had given you. The Mandalorian felt himself throb under his armor and flight suit. He had already been half swollen when he arrived to your doorstep, the friction was driving him mad, but he kept telling himself he had a plan. He would stick to it. Now, looking right into his T-visor made you whimper his name as you finally soaked his beskar, your mouth agape, falling forward with your head on his shoulder, panting.

“Such a sight Sard’ika. I will take more from you,” The bounty hunter softly ran a hand up your back, pulling your slip up, exposing more of your skin. “This is no longer needed. You’ll be on the couch, you must continue to focus on my visor.” After your slip was thrown to the floor, his forearms were suddenly under each one of your legs as you were lifted in the air, holding on to him in a panic, your hand touched his helmet before pulling itself back to his shoulder. As he turned toward the couch he stopped, still holding by your legs.

“Sorry Mando. I didn’t mean to. You picked me up. I panicked. Please put me on the couch.” Your eyes turned away from his visor, he cleared his throat.

“Your legs were too weak so I had to lift you. What was surprising about that silly Sard’ika? Do I need to tell you again why I chose you?” Laying you gently on your back, his hands ran up the sides of your body, touching your face. You closed your eyes, unsure if you should look at his ungloved hands. “I told you. Look at my visor. I think I’ll change what I was planning then.”

“What do you mean?” You heard a small snort as Mando rolled himself down your body, between your legs. You propped yourself on your elbows, curious what he was going to do. “Mando?” Your voice was unsure, but you soon covered your mouth, feeling a single rough finger touching your clit. The instinct to close your legs was thwarted by the hunter’s broad shoulders and beskar.

“You’ll keep your self open and let me explore you Sard’ika. If you won’t follow directions to look at my visor, then I won’t be able to enjoy watching your face as I learn your swollen cunt. It is….” The finger circled your clit before trailing down to your opening and entered smoothly. Finally having something to clench, the wet sounds from your core made Mando quicken his breathing. His free hand had to adjust his flight suit under his armor for his precum was soaking them. He wanted to free himself and plunge into you, but he kept telling himself that there would be a next time. “...perfect for a flower such as yourself. Will you cry for me mesh’la?”

You wanted to ask him what he meant by the word he used, but your mind was muddled. He was commanding you, but didn’t appear to want you to touch him, instead he was set on you having orgasms. One of his hands reached up and took your from your mouth. “I will hear you cry Sard’ika. No more hiding.” Another finger was inserted and you felt a stretch, it burned slightly but your juices soon took that away with the pleasure from their thickness and abrasive skin grating your insides as they clamped around them.

“M-Mando, please, slow down…I-It’s too much…” Tears formed at the edges of your eyes. The continued stimulation was overwhelming, your hips pushed forward as your came a second time, screaming before becoming flaccid on the couch. The warrior’s fingers soon came to a stop as he sat you up, covering you with a throw blanket he found on the other end of the couch.

“You did well Sard’ika. I am satisfied. I shall leave the credits on your table. Taste this and describe it to me.” He brought his two fingers soaked with your nectar as you parted your lips, not questioning him. Your viscous fluids were tangy and slightly sweet, you told him. A low rumble came from his chest before he put an arm around you and put the area above his visor on his helmet on your forehead. You’re sure that means something, just not what, just like the words he used. There were questions he had about why he chose you, why he appeared to be intimate with you on top of the acts you were performing with him. Once able to move, you reached and held one of his hands, he hadn’t put his gloves back on yet.

“Is this alright? I just wanted to touch them once. You’re much more gentle than I thought you’d be Mando.”

The Mandalorian pasused. It was only supposed to be an exchange. Credits for sexual release. He didn’t anticipate such a longing for intimacy. Maybe it wasn’t only carnal desires he had for her. After all, he had given you a nickname in his language, two actually.

“Call me Din Sard’ika. The next time we meet, you’ll call me by name, but only when we are alone like this.” Your nod earned another soft headbutt, then he rose to put his gloves back on. “Can you wear the emerald again next time? It complements your caramel skin mesh’la.”

“Yes I can. Din. Um, what does that word mean? And the other one? Shad-Sar’ka? I think. You called me by them a few times.” You stood and wobbled a bit, following him to the table where he removed the credits from his bag that he had left on the table when he came in. He strapped it to his back again under his cape.

“I will inform you as we continue our,” Din paused for a moment. What would one call these? Meetings sound formal, this was not a date, “our sessions together.” He was not ready to tell her what they meant. It would involve other questions. More pressing matters were to be spoken of. “Are you on any methods to prevent pregnancy? Future sessions will involve penetration.”

Your eyes widened at his question, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected. “I’m not but I can start. I haven’t need to for - I just haven’t need to.” You settled on. He didn’t ask about any of that, how long it had been and why. Mando nodded and put a hand on your shoulder.

“You do not need to start. As part of The Way, men are sterilized until certain life events are met. Mine have not been, but if it would make you feel safer, you’re welcome to. I thought it best we spoke about it first.” His explanation was sound and quelled some of your anxiety, though you had more questions about how sex with a Mandalorian would go exactly. The two of you agreed to next week, he did get a new bounty from you earlier in the day. Anticipating the week to follow, the remaining days we agonizingly slow. You ended up buying three different jade slips, each with different fabric for those hands of his to remove from you as he saw fit.

Next: Session Two

Space buddy tag list: @rhoorl @for-a-longlongtime @trulybetty @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @maggiemayhemnj @missladym1981 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @morallyinept @sherala007 @yorksgirl @beabliss @daddy-dins-girl @mandoisapunk @saturn-rings-writes @magpiepills @mrsmando @djarins-cyare @goodwithcheese @fhatbhabie @beefrobeefcal @sp00kymulderr @laurfilijames @legendary-pink-dot @undercoverpena @secretelephanttattoo @megamindsecretlair @alltheglitterandtheroar @gwendibleywrites @iamasaddie @perotovar @legendary-pink-dot @soapjay @joels-shitty-puns @linzels-blog @i-own-loki @dindjarindiaries @sin-djarin @djarinsimp @iamafadedmoon @drawingdroid @pedrodascal @anoverwhelmingdin @theywhowriteandknowthings

#pedro pascal characters #din djarin #din djarin x plus size reader #din djarin smut #the mandalorian #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal

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imaginedisish · 1 year

Text

Home (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey everybody! Here is a new Din Djarin fic! I don’t know if I’ve done this trope already...there’s a good chance I did. I had a version of this fic in my WIPs for a while, and I don’t think it ever made it out of the doc, so here it is. I hope you guys like it! It’s heavily based on “Home” by LCD Soundsystem.

Summary: Din learns the truth about your past...

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), praise kink for sure, hurt to comfort, friends/idiots to lovers, Jedi!reader (implied conflict/is training Grogu), implied kidnapping (Inquisitors kidnap reader as child), cursing, Crest still exists because I’m lazy, probably grammar mistakes because again, I’m lazy.

Word Count: 3,661

Your lungs burn painfully as you sprint through the forest, dodging trees, maneuvering through the thicket. You swear Grogu is giggling in his little carrier strapped carefully onto your chest. “This is not funny, little guy,” You mumble in between breaths. Grogu babbles and giggles some more in response.

This was not how this training session with Grogu was supposed to go.

BANG! You flinch a bit to the left as a blaster shot whirls by, smashing violently into a tree, leaving a burning gaping hole in its wake. You make a sharp turn to avoid the tree as it crashes down in front of you. The dark troopers were closing in on you and Grogu; you could feel it. It was only a matter of time until they circled around you, blasters pressing at your back.

Another. BANG! The tree to your right comes crashing down a few feet away. You turn around for just a split second, searching for Din, for something, for a way out. They were gaining on you, you could see them coming from over the hill.

You press a button on your comlink. “Hey Mando?” You practically shout into it. “Things are getting a little messy over here.” Your words are panicked, jumbled.

“I’m almost there,” He reassures. “What’s going on?”

“Well, they’re-,” BANG! That answers his question.

“Just hold on, okay?” You can hear the fear in his voice; it wasn’t something you were used to. Din was normally confident, but this time there was a sense of insecurity, as if this time was going to end differently than all the others. As if he was afraid you weren’t going to make it.

You take a deep breath and navigate away from the now burning, fallen over trees. You turn around; the troopers were even closer than they were before. You swear there weren’t this many a few minutes ago. You turn to the left, trying to find another way out, but it’s too late. You were surrounded. You weren’t fast enough. Maybe this was the end.

“I am not getting killed by a bunch of droids,” You huff, raising your hands above your head. But the troopers don’t stop, they continue to creep closer towards you and Grogu, raising their blasters, readying to shoot, aiming to kill. “We are not going down like this kid,” You whisper, Grogu’s ears picking up as the words slip from your tongue.

The troopers finally stop, their metal joints freezing in place. Their blasters are still pointed towards you and Grogu. You swallow harshly, staring at your reflection in the metallic armor of the dark trooper directly in front of you. You watch closely as their robotic fingers hover over the trigger. You had one shot, one chance to get this right. You shut your eyes, waiting for it.

All at once. CLICK. BANG.

Your hands extend out. You can feel the energy pulsing through you. It’s controlled and stable. You slowly open your eyes, and hovering in the air are at least twenty violently shivering blaster rays, threatening to finish the job if you let go. You can feel the rays dancing under your fingertips, struggling against your grasp. You shut your eyes again, the tension of each one growing. You couldn’t hold this forever.

A new feeling abruptly shocks your system. It’s a certain power you haven’t felt in years. It rattles your bones, sending shockwaves throughout every inch of your body. There’s something delicious about it, tempting even. It’s powerful, yet intrusive, quickly invading your senses and taking over. You allow it to course through you fully. You can almost hear something calling out to you. Let go.

And so you do.

With a swift motion, you release the energy building up inside of you. It’s a radical feeling, but still somehow familiar. The shocks flow through the palms of your hands and out of your fingers. There’s a slight sting. It’s almost painful. And that’s when you remember exactly what this feeling is. Your eyes open wide, and you watch as electricity, and the blaster rays, shoot out towards the dark troopers, decimating them immediately.

Fire consumes the trees around you, embers quickly filling the air. You’re not sure if the electricity you just shot out of your hands caused this, or the blaster shots, or the dark troopers themselves. Most likely, it was some sort of messy combination of all three, which meant that you were in part to blame.

“Cyare?”

And Din saw the whole thing.

He’s standing just a few feet away from you. You can see the flames and carnage reflecting against his armor, and in the center of it all is you. This wasn’t a side of yourself that you wanted him to see, or even know about in the first place.

But it was too late for that now. “Din, I can expl-,”

He cuts you off, curt, emotionless. “We need to go.” You nod, taking slow strides towards the ramp of the Crest. You pass Din along the way. You want him to say something, to look at you, to move at the very least. But he doesn’t. He’s motionless, frozen in the aftermath of what you had done, of the secret you had tried so very hard to cover up.

You reluctantly step into the Crest, taking Grogu and his carrier off your shoulders, placing him in his crib. You throw the carrier to the ground. He gurgles something entirely unintelligible. There’s a tiredness in his grumblings. Good, you think to yourself. At least he’ll be asleep when you and Din have it out.

Din’s steps echo against the walls of the Crest. You know he’s disappointed. You can feel it. You should’ve told him the truth, told him who you were, told him that person isn’t who you are anymore. It’s certainly not the person you are with him. Din makes your past seem like some non-existent, intangible, fictional far-off tale. It was like he made you forget. No. He changed you, altered your brain chemistry, made you feel like you mattered. And not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

You needed him, and it scared you. You were almost afraid of the connection, of the dependency.

But he needs you too, you just don’t know it yet.

You wait a minute, trembling a bit in the hull, watching as Grogu’s eyes struggle to stay open. Within a few seconds, they’re closed. Din’s figure finally appears in the doorway. He’s apprehensive, tentative, as if he hasn’t made up his mind about coming inside. Your stomach knots, twinging as he finally steps all the way inside, pressing a button as the ramp shuts behind him.

He looks over at Grogu, fast asleep in his crib. A modulated breath escapes from under his helmet. It’s a sigh of defeat, of dejection. You build up the courage to stare into his visor, half expecting to get an indication of how he’s feeling. But there’s nothing, no sign of life save the shallow breaths slipping through his vocoder.

“Din, just let me explain.” It’s a plea, a solicitation for forgiveness.

But he isn’t buying it. “Did you lie to me?” There’s no anger in his voice, no agitation, not even an ounce of annoyance. It’s hurt, pain, possibly even betrayal, and that feels far worse than any vexation or outrage ever could. “Last time I checked, Jedi don’t use the force like that.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes breaking away from his glare. You know he’s staring at you under his helmet, searching for answers, trying to convince himself that what had just happened was a figment of his imagination. But it wasn’t. It was you. The past had caught up with your present, and now they’d fight for control.

“No, they don’t,” You pause, breathing deeply before continuing. “The Inquisitors kidnapped me when I was a kid. I was saved just a few months after the first Death Star was destroyed.” There’s a moment of relief before the fear of waiting for his response kicks in. You had told him the truth, and he wasn’t running away. Din was still in front of you, listening to every word you had to say.

He takes a few steps toward you, slowly closing the distance between you and him. “You could’ve told me that,” He whispers. “You should’ve told me.” He’s more assertive the second time around.

“I didn’t want you to think that I-I was still like that.” You can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, begging to be blinked away. “I d-didn’t want you to t-think I was some monster.”

“What are you talking about?” He finds himself being drawn even closer towards you, his gloved hands gravitating to yours, his fingertips brushing against your wrists as he presses his palms into your own. Home. The word flashes in your mind in big bright lights, your hands fitting perfectly into his. “How could you think I’d ever see you like that?”

“I could tell you were scared, when you saw what I did…” You trail off, your heart beating wildly out of your chest. “Maybe I shouldn’t be training the kid. Maybe I’m not…” Din shakes his head. “Not what?”

“Not good enough,” You mumble, fighting back sobs. “If I can’t let go of my past, let go of those feelings…”

“No.” There’s no hesitance in his statement, no question, no consideration. Din means it. “Don’t think like that, mesh’la. You’re more than enough, more than the kid and I could’ve ever asked for.”

“But I-,”

He cuts you off again. “You protected Grogu. You protected me.”

“I lied to you, Din,” Your voice is soft, quiet, timid. “I did something I’d promise myself I’d never do again.” You blink a few times, letting the inevitable tears stream down your cheeks.

Din squeezes your hands lightly and lets go. Before you can internally grieve the loss of contact, he pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you. He had never been so gentle with you, so kind, so soft. This was so unlike him.

You sob into his beskar covered chest. The cold metal feels good against your burning cheeks. “I-I’m sorry.” You croak out, your voice reverberating through his armor.

“It’s alright,” He mutters, the top of his helmet coming down to rest on your head. “I’ve got you, it’s gonna be okay.” You sniffle as he whispers sweet reassurances in your ears, reminding you that you’re good enough, that he’s right next to you, that nothing bad is going to happen. “You should get some rest.”

You nod, and Din pulls you from his chest, stepping away from you and into the cockpit. You wish he was still next to you, his body pressed against yours. The closer you get to Din, the more dangerous things become. Luke and Ahsoka had told you the dangers of maintaining connections, building relationships. Ahsoka had been more forgiving, given that she believed in a more balanced way than the Jedi did. But Luke…Luke had been warning you for years.

Honestly, you didn’t care anymore. You wanted to forget Luke’s grating voice, to dispel each ideal he forced into your head. You wanted Din, needed Din. He was all that mattered now.

Forget your past This is your last chance now And we can break the rules Like nothing will last

Luke’s warnings fade away as you search through your clothes for something more comfortable to wear. Naturally, there’s nothing clean, nothing that Grogu hadn’t spit up on.

There’s one shirt of Din’s that you had borrowed a few nights ago when he was out on a hunt by himself. It still smells like him, feels like him too. You like how you look in it, the way it hangs too long on you. You like that it’s his and not yours. You slip it on and walk out into the hull and towards the cockpit as the Crest takes off.

You can’t see it, but his eyes settle on your reflection in the viewport. He turns around to get a better look. His shirt is massive on you, falling just above your knees. He hadn’t expected to see you in his clothes, but fuck did you look good. He couldn’t hold back anymore, not after today, not after you had sobbed in his arms.

He needed to remind you of who you are. He needed to tell you what you meant to him. Maker, he needed you to know everything, how he wants every inch of you, how much he cares about you, how much he loves you.

You can tell he’s looking at you now. You’re suddenly incredibly self-conscious. “I-I’m sorry,” You stutter. “I took i-it the other day without asking…should’ve told you I had it.”

He clutches his fists as the Crest comes out of the planet’s atmosphere. He presses a button, putting the ship on autopilot. “You need to stop apologizing,” He says, pushing his palms into the arms of the pilot’s chair and standing up.

You tilt your head to the side, confused and somehow even more apologetic than you were before. “I-I didn’t mean to offend you-,” “You’re not offending me, you never could.” He closes the gap between the two of you with one small step. “So stop saying sorry.” There’s an urgency in his voice, and an undeniable sense of certainty, like he had thought hard about what he was going to say, as if he had wanted to say this for an incredibly long time.

“Sorr-,” You cut yourself off, a smirk spreading across your face.

Din’s hands hover over your waist, softly settling down, waiting for you to protest. But you don’t. “Is this alright?” He asks.

“Y-yes,” You stutter. Din’s grip becomes firm against your hips. You hum at the contact, slowly pushing your body closer to his until your chests are flush against one another’s.

The tension is palpable. This is no longer him simply trying to comfort you; this is much, much more than that.

He makes the first move, taking a step in between your spread-out legs so that your back presses into the wall behind you. You can feel a pulse of heat shoot down to your core. “You need to know what you mean to me,” He whispers, his knee pressing lightly into your clothed cunt. You hold yourself back from grinding against him. “Need to show you how I feel about you, how you make me feel…” He trails off, letting himself get lost in the moment

Your hands snake up to the base of his neck, where his flight suit and his helmet meet. Your fingers slip under the fabric, exploring the exposed skin there. You’ve always wanted to feel him, to let him feel you. But this was never the deal, this was never something you expected. These were uncharted waters, a feeling that was so far shoved to the back of your head that you were positive this would never happen.

But this is happening.

He tugs the shirt up so that his hands can slip underneath. “Take off your gloves.” Your voice is breathy as the plea slips out. “Wanna feel you.” Din nods, quickly pulling them off before gluing his palms back to your skin. His calloused fingertips graze over your stomach, sending chills down your spine. “Din,” You whisper as he trails towards your bra, dipping underneath. His thumb brushes over your peaked nipple. You shut your eyes, letting your head fall back against the wall.

“What is it, pretty girl?” He asks, teasing you, his fingers pinching your nipple lightly. “Tell me what you want, need to hear you.”

He was going to be the death of you. “I-I want you to f-fuck me,” You beg, shamelessly grinding against his knee, searching for some sort of relief. You can feel your wetness pooling in between your legs. “N-need you to touch me Din, please.”

Din nods, his hands slipping out from under your shirt and down to the waistline of your panties. He drops to his knees as he slips them down your legs, practically tearing them off of you in the process. His fingers glide up your inner thigh as he stands. His palm finally settles against your cunt, the heel of his hand pushing into your clit, his fingers teasing at your opening.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, such a good girl,” He praises, moving a bit so that his fingers find their way to your clit. You moan out at the sudden pressure. “You like that? Like my fingers there?”

You hum a yes, unable to pull any sort of coherent thought together as Din’s fingers swirl around your clit. “N-need more,” You mumble. “W-wanna feel you, please.” You can feel his erection against your leg, throbbing in his flight suit. But Din doesn’t stop, his fingers continue their unrelenting circles at your core.

He moves his hand ever so slightly, shifting the angle so that his thumb brushes against your clit, and his fingers begin to tease your folds. Your head falls against his shoulder at the feeling. His fingers suddenly thrust into you, pumping in and out.

“You’re so perfect,” His honeyed, modulated voice rasps. He watches as your chest heaves against his shirt, your back limp against the wall of his ship, your head pressed against his shoulder. Fuck you looked so good like this, taking him, letting him make you his. And Maker, you felt good doing it. Nothing would ever compare to this, to the feeling of having him this close to you. “Doing so good for me.”

“Din,” You whimper. “I-I’m so close.”

He smirks under his helmet. He was going to make you come on his fingers. You clench around him, his fingers hitting the spot you need him in most every time. “That’s it sweet girl, just like that,” Din whispers, his thumb mercilessly toying with your core. You can feel yourself coming undone around him, like a wire snapping in two, heat spreading fervently across every inch of your body.

“D-Din,” You stutter, pulling him against you, his fingers still buried inside you, his thumb still drawing gentle circles. You needed more, you needed him closer than humanly possible. You bring a hand down to his erection, jerking him off through his pants. “N-need you inside me, Din.”

He doesn’t waste any time undoing his belt, shoving his pants off. He’s so fast you’re not even sure any of it happened in the first place. He lines himself up with your entrance. “Are you sure you want this?” He asks.

There’s no question. “I’ve always wanted this, Din, always wanted you.”

He rests his forehead against yours. “…‘always wanted you too, mesh’la.” You gasp as he buries himself inside of you with one thrust, splitting you open. “So fucking tight, so perfect,” He praises you again, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at his words. He gives you a minute to adjust to him before pulling out and shoving himself back in. You’ve never felt so full, so whole, like he’s tearing you apart just to put you back together.

“Feels s’good,” You murmur as Din sets his pace. It starts slow, his hips rolling against yours with each thrust. He’s taking his time, exploring every inch of you. His thumb finds your clit again. The sensation is almost overwhelming. You’re already on the borderline of being fucked out.

You can feel your core pulsing as he works at you, toying with you. His thrusts become quicker, needier. “So perfect for me,” He soothes, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek, brushing away a tear you didn’t know had escaped your eye. “Taking me so well, wanted to do this for so long.”

You were already practically there. Every pump, every praise, every swirl pushes you closer to the edge, threatening to throw you over, to split you in two, and Maker, you wanted it.

“Din I-I-,” You can’t even get the words out.

“I know, pretty girl, I’ve got you,” He coos, fucking you into the wall, his thumb still beating away at your heat, his other hand still holding your cheek. Your legs are hooked around his waist, your fingers digging into the beskar that dawns his shoulders.

Your walls flutter around him, and you can feel yourself falling apart around his cock. Searing white heat floods your vision. You can feel a few cool tears against your hot cheeks. You look into his visor as you come. You want him to see you, to know how he makes you feel. “F-fuck, Din, I-I love you.” The confession doesn’t bother you as it slips out. It’s natural, like you had said it countless times before.

And you’ll say it countless times after.

It’s what sends Din over the edge. “S-shit,” His voice is shaky, breathy, broken, his cock twitching inside of you. You can feel him fill you up, pumping in and out a few more times before stopping, still buried deep inside you. His forehead rests on yours, your body limp against his. “I love you,” He confesses back. “So fucking much.” You shut your eyes, letting yourself melt around him. “Can we stay like this, for just a little while? Don’t wanna leave you yet.” You hum a soft yes in response. You didn’t want him to go anywhere either.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you in, keeping you held against his chest. There it is, that same feeling from before, the one you felt the very second you joined this little clan of three.

Home.

If you're afraid of what you need If you're afraid of what you need Look around you, you're surrounded It won't get any better

And so, goodnight

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absurdthirst · 1 year

Text

One Night on Tatooine {Mando x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8.4k

Warnings: Mentions of safe words, vaginal sex, cream pie, oral sex (male receiving), helmet riding, praise kink, removing helmets, mentions of marriage/children

Comments: When Mando comes back to Mos Eisley to have Peli work on his mech droid, he finds her gone and you watching her bay. When he agrees to let you do the work, he finds he wants you for more than just a mechanic.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || The Mandalorian MasterList ||

You look up when you see the ship land in the bay. Peli had left you in charge for the next few days while she went to fetch new parts. A rare trip outside of the spaceport for Peli, still not leaving Tatooine but she had ventured outside of Mos Eisley. The ship is slick, one you recognize from Peli’s stories and when the infamous Mandalorian appears, you are taken back.

Peli has told you stories during your brief employment in her spaceport of the brave Mandalorian and his foundling, Grogu, and you must admit you’d been intrigued and eager to meet the beskar clad legend. When his boots hit the sand, he’s just as intimidating as you imagined and he doesn’t hesitate to approach you. “Where’s Peli?” He asks, the child in his arms coos at you.

“Peli isn’t here. She went to purchase new parts. I am her new mechanic. How can I help?” You offer, knowing that this Mandalorian will insist on Peli but you will try to accommodate him.

Din huffs out a grumble under his breath. He had expected Peli to be here, the one that is most familiar with the starfighter - considering she helped him put the damn thing together. Grogu squirms, reaching out towards you and coos again. “She doesn’t want to hold you.” He murmurs, setting the child on the sandy floor to go explore while he straightens back up to look at you. Sighing, he contemplates going somewhere else because he knows he will be distracted by you and he was planning on leaving the kid here while he found a quick job to pick up. Now he was going to be sitting at the hanger. “What do you know about droids?” He asks, pointing at the mech droid he had broken down and added to the ship.

You stand up straighter, knowing that he is assessing your capabilities and you can understand that. “What don’t I know about droids?'' is the question. Peli hired me because of my expertise. Where did you pick that guy up from? Looks like he’s been through the worst of it.” You can already tell the droid needs an overall from body to drive. “You want me to fix ‘em up?” You ask, looking down at the child who is now by your feet, tapping on your boot. “Hey sweetheart. Aren’t you just the cutest little thing in the galaxy?” You coo, bending down to caress the child’s ear.

Din watches as Grogu gives you a sharp toothed grin, reaching for the shiny zipper on your boots. “Grogu.” He reaches into his belt and pulls out the silver ball from the Razor Crest. “Play with this and don’t mess with her zippers.” His helmet tips back up towards you. “He likes to get in the way.” He warns, knowing the child will do what he wants despite his warnings.

“He’s cute enough to get away with it.” You chuckle when the kid plays with the silver ball in his hand, almost cooing in victory. “So…you want me to fix that droid or are you gonna wait on Peli to come back?” You can tell her doesn’t trust you and you won’t push him.

He sighs and looks around again, planting his hands on his hips. He wishes Peli was here but he can’t wait for too long. “If Peli trusts you….” He trails off, looking back at you and is struck by how pretty you are. It’s been a long time since the pull of attraction curled in his belly and he’s slightly shocked. He’s not had time or opportunity to do anything about it since having the child with him. “I’ll go get the kid something to eat and then come back.”

“Very well. Whatever you want, Mando, I’m here for you.” You tell him, sensing the frustration that seems to vibrate from his very being and if you can lessen it by fixing the droid, then you will feel like you’ve helped him. “See you soon, little man.” You coo at Grogu, already enamored by him.

You shouldn’t have said that to him. His cock twitches in interest at the x-rated images that immediately flood his mind. Making him grateful that he has to bend down and pick up the little one. Instead of answering you, he turns and starts walking towards the hanger doors, trying to banish the peak of flesh he had gotten from your mechanic’s suit not being zipped up the entire way. “Let’s get you something to eat.” He tells Grogu, needing to get his mind off of what he would rather be doing.

You watch the Mandalorian go, his shoulders broad and gait strong, and you can’t deny the thrill of attraction that rushes through you. You wonder what he’s like under all that beskar. His voice is modulated but sexy and you know you’ll be thinking of him in your bunk later.

Once the kid has eaten, Din brings him back to the hanger. Unwilling to be on the streets in Mos Eisley for too long considering he continuously has problems on Tatooine. He should get a transport to see Boba, but he honestly wants to see how you are doing with the droid. It had given him fits and that was why he had come to Peli. Ignoring the thought that he really wants to see you work.

When Mando returns, you have already started working on the droid, stripping the unit down to the bare essentials so you can clean everything, work on the programming and get him working. “How’s it coming along?” He asks and you look up from where you are kneeling down on the floor.

“It’s coming. Just needs some TLC.” You are level with his crotch and you swallow, briefly wondering if the Mandalorian only takes off the codpiece to fuck or if he likes to blindfold a partner, you wonder if he’s ever gotten a blowjob. You shake your head, trying to ignore your train of thought despite unconsciously leaning closer to his crotch.

Din grunts, feeling his cock starts to harden when he imagines you with his cock down your pretty little throat. You would look good wrapped around him. Thankfully his helmet covers the riot of thoughts and expressions. “Good.” He rasps out, thinking about something else that needs some TLC. The child recaptures his attention and squirms to be let down. “Be good.” He warns the mischievous creature, knowing that he will get into trouble in a heartbeat.

You swallow harshly at the rasp you can hear through the modulation. The child waddles over to you, cooing and you reach out to pat his head. “You want a droid friend?” You ask, knowing the child must want friends that don’t involve his adoptive father. “I will make sure this one protects you and is there for you.” You tell the child who grins and waddles off towards the bunk area. He’s clearly been here before.

“I’ll get him to bed. It’s been a long day.” Mando declares, making his way towards the child and he scoops him up to carry him to the bunks Peli has set up for guests. You wonder if the Mandalorian will rest in there or if he will remain in your company while you continue working on the droid.

“There’s some food in the cantina area if you want to eat in privacy.” You offer, “I just cooked up some gornt.”

“Thank you.” Din appreciates that you understand without being rude that he would need privacy to eat. He might after he makes use of the sonic shower. It’s been awhile since he’s been able to use one and he needs to take a piss. Setting the kid down on the bunk, he softens as Grogu immediately snuggles into the blankets and closes his eyes. “Night kid.” He murmurs softly, smiling at his answering coo before he steps out of the bunk room and enters the small ‘fresher to clean up.

You decide to finish working on the droid in the morning. The parts have been cleaned and you need to reprogram the mech but you don’t have it in you to do that right now. With a sigh, you stand up and make your way into the compound, surprised to find the Mandalorian coming out of the fresher in just his flight suit, beskar no doubt secured somewhere. “Oh that’s good timing. I was about to have a shower.”

Din inhales sharply, the top of your suit has been stripped down, revealing a thin and worn tank top underneath. Large amounts of skin on display. And you’re sweating. He swallows, turned on by the sight of the dewy hue of your skin and if he were a man who could take off his helmet, he would run his tongue along the drop and see if it tasted as good as it looked. His cock immediately starts to stiffen and instead of letting you by, his hand comes up to block your path. “Are you done?” He demands, half afraid you are.

You raise your eyebrows at the arm that blocks your path, your stomach twisting with both nerves and anticipation. You’ve been feeling this tension between you and the Mandalorian since he arrived. “I’m not finished yet. I just cleaned it up. I gotta, uh, reprogram tomorrow.” You confirm, chest heaving slightly as your heart thumps.

He watches you closely, noticing the way your breathing picks up, his HUD showing that your pulse has increased and your body temperature is rising. You don’t seem worried, you seem like you are waiting for something, anticipating it. “So we have to stay tonight.” He speaks slowly, his voice dipping down slightly into a deeper pitch.

You shiver at the way his modulated voice lowers. “Is that so?” You hum, crossing your arms, making your cleavage more pronounced. You’re on the precipice of something and you wonder if he will make a move or if he will leave you hanging.

His helmet tips down, pointed at your chest and his own breathing picks up slightly. Heart rate spiking, not unlike when he’s nearly caught a bounty. Slowly, he drags his gaze back up to your face, watching you for a moment to see if you would squirm or drop your arms. You don’t. His blood rushes south and starts to fill his cock. “Say no now.” He growls out, giving you a warning. “Or tell me your safe word.”

His words send a rush straight through you and you gasp in response. “My safe word is rebel.” You inform him, suddenly dripping wet with need for him. The anticipation makes you exhale as you wait for his next move.

Din’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist and turning both of you so that he is pushing you into the ‘fresher. It would give you some privacy so you aren’t exposed if anyone comes into the hanger. His groan filtering out from under the helmet as he pushes you over the sink and presses up against your ass.

You gasp in shock before you moan when you feel his body pressed against you. Loving how you can feel him without the beskar creating a barrier between you. His cock is hard against your ass and you grind back onto him. “Mando. Please. Just - just fuck me.” You beg, looking into the mirror to watch his helmet.

He chuckles even as his hands start to move over your skin, wishing that he has his gloves off, but he won’t take off more than he has to. His armor is already off, otherwise he would be wearing that while he fucked you. It takes too long to remove and often he’ll lose interest in fucking if he went through the motions of removing it all. Instead of answering you, he rips your tank top in two, freeing your breasts and cupping them in his hands and squeezing harshly while he ruts against your ass.

The roughness of his touch has you ready for him to slide inside of you and you are panting when he pinches your nipples. “Oh fuck, yes baby. Please. I need - I need you inside of me Mando.” You beg, grinding back against him.

“Shameless.” He huffs, twisting your nipples again to make you gasp out before he drags his hands down your stomach to where the rest of your mechanic’s suit is bunched up. Loving the access to your skin and how soft and warm it feels under the sensory pads of his gloves. “You just want me to shove my cock inside you and fuck you?” He asks, pressing his helmet up against your ear. “Without fingering you?”

“Depends on how impressive you are, Mando.” You tease, grinding back against him. “I’m so wet right now you could probably slide inside of me without foreplay.” You whimper when his gloved fingers dive past the waistband of your suit. “Please Mando.” You beg, needing something, anything.

He growls, yanking your pants down and kicking your feet apart. Your ass is pushed back against his crotch so that he has to lean back to unzip and pull his throbbing cock out. He would have given you his fingers, made you cum before he fucked you - but the way you beg so sweetly had him impatiently. His hand slides around your sternum and he yanks you back against his chest, making sure he can see your face in the mirror. “You asked for this.” He warns with a snarl before he lines up and drives his cock deep into your pussy.

You cry out, loud enough to wake the child in the bunker next door so Mando slaps his hand over your mouth, his cock practically in your guts as he buries himself deep inside of your cunt. There’s a sting since you haven’t had sex in a while but you love it, knowing you’ll feel him tomorrow. You whimper against his hand, reaching up to grip his forearm as you press against his chest.

“Good girl.” He practically purrs it, loving how tight you are around him. His hips flex forward and he grinds deep into you before he pulls nearly all the way out and drives forward again. Starting a punishing pace that has his hand vibrating with your moan.

You are squealing, grateful it’s muffled against his glove, and you close your eyes. “Open your fucking eyes. Want you to watch me fuck you.” He orders with a growl, making you open your eyes and you struggle when he’s hitting down deep inside of you, stretching you out.

He fucking loves it. You are taking every punishing roll of his hips and squeezing his cock like a vice when he’s balls deep. He groans in your ear, watching your eyes for any signs of discomfort because of his hand over your mouth. Your cunt is perfect, exactly what he needs right now. The arm not holding you against him slides down so he can rub your clit.

You moan loudly against his hand, hips bucking as you grind down onto his cock while he rubs your clit just right. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him with your cum as you fall over the edge, thighs shaking.

He groans, hips slowing down because he feels himself starting to get close and he doesn’t want to cum too soon. He needs to ride this out and work out more of his frustration on your cunt. He pushes deep and just grinds into you until your legs stop shaking and he pulls out and turns you around to hoist you up on the sink and drags a leg of your pants off you so he can step between your thighs.

You reach for him, grabbing onto his shoulders, and you moan at how bulky he feels, strong and muscular beneath the flight suit and you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer as you look into the visor. “Come on Mando, fuck me harder.”

He chuckles at your brazenness. Shaking his head slightly as he takes himself in hand and slides back into you. “Be careful what you wish for, Mesh’la.” He warned, sliding deep and pressing his helmet against your forehead.

You pull him closer, gripping his shoulders, and you moan when he pushes into you, hitting a new angle. “Fuck Mando. Feels so good.” You pant, your forehead bumping against his and your breath fans over the beskar, fogging it as you cling to him.

“Good.” He grunts, reaching up and holding onto your shoulders. “Tight little cunt.” He praises, looking down to watch his cock work into you. “Needs to be fucked often.”

You whine your agreement. “Yes. Yes. Been too long. Fuck, you feel so good.” You let go of him to tilt backwards, changing the angle and he hits something perfect inside of you. “Oh fuck yes. Yes Mando. That’s so good. So good. Wanted - wanted you as soon as I saw you. Wondered what your cock would be like.” You admit breathlessly, chest heaving as he works you towards another orgasm.

He huffs out a goan, knowing that he had wanted you from the moment he had seen you too. “Thought about bending you over the engine panel.” He manages through puffed out breaths as he rocks into you frantically. He wants to feel you cum again. Soaking the fabric of his flight suit before he’s done with you.

You fucking love hearing this Mandalorian talk. In the half day you’ve known him, you can tell he isn’t one for talking but right now, telling you how he wanted to fuck you from the start, it has you soaking his cock with another bout of arousal. Making a slapping noise echo in the ‘fresher. “Maker. Oh Maker.” You pant and he reaches up to grip your neck,

“Mando. My name is Mando.” He growls.

“M-Mando.” You choke when he tightens his grip and it sends you over the edge. Knowing he could easily kill you makes you cum, thighs shaking around his cock.

Hissing, he grits his teeth under his helmet. His hand tightens on your neck slightly as your cunt flutters around him. The tight grip you have on him makes his eyes roll back. When he feels your cunt start to loosen up, he wraps his hands around your hips and hoists you up into his arms. He manhandles bounties around so you aren’t a problem. Turning around and slamming your back against the wall.

“Oh fuck!” You shriek, surprised and so turned on despite your orgasm still wrecking you. You swear you’re about to pass out from the pleasure when he starts to pound into you. “Oh fuckkkk.” You sob, head hitting the wall as he ruins you.

He doesn’t stop. Slamming you up against the wall again and again as he drills deep. Pinning you up with his body while he tries to make sure that you can’t walk by the time he’s done with you.

You can only cling to him, unable to believe how he’s making you feel. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so much pleasure in your life. The way he is pushing deep and his fabric clad thighs hit the back of yours…you would scream but nothing escapes when you open your mouth, too lost to the pleasure. It doesn’t take long for him to make you cum again. This time he hits something so tragic inside of you, it’s like a firework going off and you let out a silent scream while you gush, soaking his suit.

His head tucks against your shoulder, slamming his fist against the wall while he works you through your releases and speeds towards his own. Rolling his hips frantically. “Fuck, fuck Mesh’la.” He hisses, panting through his modulator. Gasping when he feels the tingling in his spine before he drives deep one last time, burying his cock in your walls while he lets out a growl of your name.

You sigh when you feel him painting your walls with his cum, thanking the Maker for your implant as he works himself through his high and you are almost unconscious from the pleasure you just experienced. Unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It was intoxicating. “Fuck.” You pant, eyes closed as you relax.

“Fuck.” He agrees, panting quietly. He keeps you pinned against the wall for another moment before he lets you down. Your legs buckle and he chuckles quietly. “I did it right.”

You lean against him for support, gripping his flight suit and you just about manage to find your balance. “Maker Mando. You make all the girls collapse?” You chuckle breathlessly, shifting back to lean against the wall so you can let go of him. “I’m sorry about your flight suit.”

“Wanted you to soak it.” He hums, watching a small drip of his cum fall out of you and hit the ‘fresher flood. “You could have had another orgasm if you hadn’t been so impatient.” He muses with a grin under his helmet.

You huff, shaking your head. “Impatient? I just - I wanted you to enjoy yourself too.” You stroke his covered chest and you step back from him. You shift from one foot to the other, reaching for the paper to clean his cum from between your thighs as your jumpsuit tangles around your ankle.

He chuckles and watches as you clean up, tucking his cock away. “I was always going to enjoy myself.” He promises. “Sorry about ripping your shirt.”

"It's okay. I have more. It was...it was hot." You admit, pulling your overalls up to cover yourself. You aren't sure what to say now that the deed has been done, what has been building all afternoon between you. You want him again but you know he will be leaving once you have fixed the droid.

He hums and turns back towards you. “Go take your shower.” He urges you, knowing he will need to take another one later but for now, he will wait until you are cleaned up.

You nod, walking over to Mando and you lean up to press a kiss to the beskar helmet over where you think his cheek is. "Thank you Mando." You smile, stepping back from him to turn on the sonic shower, stripping out of the jumpsuit with no care to him still being in the 'fresher. He's seen it all anyway.

Even though he’s just fucked you, his cock twitches and he decides that he won’t wait. Instead he steps into the shower fully clothed, knowing the sonic shower will clean his flight suit as well. “You are beautiful,” he murmurs. “So much skin on display.”

“Maker!” You gasp, not expecting him to step into the shower with you. “Mando. What are you-” You moan when he pushes you against the shower wall, his fingers finding your clit and you whine, “Mando. Shit. It’s -” You can’t believe he’s still wanting you. Most men would’ve gone by now and passed out from their orgasm.

He hums, watching your eyes close at his touch. It’s been a long time since he had someone just give themselves to him like you have. He rubs your clit while he reaches over with his free hand and presses the button to start the sonic shower watching you while the dirt and sweat vibrates off of you, his fingers still between your legs. “You gonna let me crawl into your bunk tonight?” He rasps. “Fuck you through the night?”

You moan, nodding as the shower adds to your vibrations, his body crowding yours and it’s intoxicating, making you tilt your head back against the wall to look up at his helmet. “If you want. You can do whatever you want to me. Any - anyone that can make me cum like you do can fuck me whenever he wants.”

Din groans in approval, chest puffing out in pride that he’s gotten permission from you to have you again. That you enjoyed his rougher treatment. He feels more relaxed than he has in months. HIs fingers work your clit like he was piloting a ship, steady and firm. The wetness of your cunt seeping into the leather and he will remember how wet you had gotten his flight suit. “Cum for me again and I’ll take you to your bunk.” He promises, imagining stretching out on top of you and filling you again.

You whimper at his words, knowing you’ll ache in the morning but it will be worth it to have him inside of you again. The expert way his fingers are working your clit have you whining until you go silent, mouth falling open while you clamp down around nothing, cumming for him like he wanted.

He shuts off the shower, your clean body limp and leaning against his when he pulls you away from the shower wall. Guiding you out of the ‘fresher and leading you, naked, to the bunk he had assumed was yours. It’s not Peli’s and there are small personal items and tools scattered around. “How many times do you normally cum with a partner?” He asks as you sit down on the bed.

“I, uh, I’m lucky if I cum once.” You admit, “most of my partners didn’t care about my pleasure. Before I arrived here, I was working in a cantina, fixing droids in my spare time just to make ends meet and Peli found me and gave me a place to live. As for my partners…they were passing through, just wanting to find their pleasure and not care about mine.”

Din scoffs under his helmet, rolling his eyes at the people you had slept with. “Pleasure is supposed to be mutual.” He hadn’t always felt that way, when he was young and brash he probably didn’t please as many partners as he thought. But because he couldn’t take off much or use his mouth, he had tried to make sure that he gave pleasure through other means. You lean back on the bed and he shuffles slightly, reaching for the zipper of his flight suit.

You watch as the Mandalorian starts to unzip his flight suit, letting you see inch after inch of skin, some parts marred with blemishes and scars, others painted with tattoos. "Maker." You moan, unable to stop yourself from surging forward to press your lips to his skin as he continues working the zipper down.

Din moans loudly, closing his eyes as your lips touch his skin and makes him quiver at the sensation. “It- it’s been a long time since I’ve- since I’ve taken off my suit.” He confesses breathlessly. “The helmet stays on though.” He can’t break his creed again. Not for something like sex.

You hum in understanding, kissing every inch of skin he exposes to you and you want him to know how beautiful he is. “I don’t mind.” You promise, helping him take the suit off of his shoulders and you shift to straddle him once he’s naked, your lips kissing along his shoulders while your hands caress his back. When your skin touches his, he shivers beneath you.

He gasps, hands gripping your hips and he turns so that he can stretch out on your bunk. Letting you stay on top of him in a very rare move. The only people who have ridden him have been fellow Mandalorians, sure they would not try to remove his helmet. Trusting you with this intimacy.

You stretch out over him, covering as much of his body with your own, and you lean closer to kiss along his beskar helmet, down to his neck and you shift to kneel between his legs. "Fuck." You moan at the sight of his cock, reaching out to grip it and you moan when a drop of pre-cum leaks, making you lean closer to flick it with your tongue. The salty tang makes you hum in delight before you wrap your lips around the head, taking him into your mouth while your eyes meet the visor.

Making a choked noise, his hand reaches for you. “Y-you d-don’t have t-to do that.” He pants out, even while your mouth works over his cock. He can’t give you the same so he doesn’t want you to feel as if you have to suck his cock. Even if it feels amazing.

You pull off of his cock for a moment. "One thing you should know about me Mando is I never do anything I don't want to do." You smirk and take him back into your mouth, deeper than before, and you caress his thighs, wanting to feel every inch of flesh he has gifted you the opportunity to see.

Din groans, a filthy sound that peeks out from under the edge of the helmet. Watching you eagerly suck his cock like it’s your favorite activity, he shivers when your hands brush over his skin, igniting nerves that were normally suppressed by clothing that covers him.

You slide your tongue over the side of his cock, gripping the base and twisting your wrist while your eyes burn into the beskar helmet, wishing you could see his expression. You feel him twitch in your grip so you move quickly. Straddling him and sinking down onto his cock in one swift move, wanting him to cum inside of you. "Fuck." You moan, feeling him so much deeper in this angle.

“Dank ferrik!” Din yelps, hips bucking up and he can’t stop himself even if he wanted to. Feeling his cock harden even more and his balls pull tight against his body. Your mouth and cunt pulling his orgasm out of him before he could even realize it. His hands hold you in a bruising grip and his mind goes completely blank while hot ropes of cum fill you to the brim again.

You smile, loving the way he easily falls apart beneath you. You rock your hips, feeling his cum push out of you and it makes you moan as you work him through his orgasm. “That’s it Mando. Just feel.” You order, caressing his arms.

“Shiiiiiiit.” His head tips back and exposes the bottom of his chin as he rides out his high. Relaxing into your bed to gasp while he tries to catch his breath. You didn’t cum. He realizes this as soon as he can think about anything else other than how much pleasure you had just given him. “Fuck.” He groans, reaching up to cup your cheek. “You didn’t cum.”

You shrug, “it’s okay.” You promise and he shakes his head.

“No. Come here.” He uses his strength to lift you off of his cock, moving you up his body until you are hovering above his helmet. “Ride it. Want to see your pussy while you make yourself cum on my helmet.” His words make your cunt clench and you shift to press your cum soaked folds against the beskar.

It doesn’t matter that his cum is smearing over the beskar and his visor. It’s what he filled you with and he can still see those pretty lips as they drag over his helmet. Making him groan as his softening cock lays against his pubic hair. His hands squeeze your ass and help you grind against him. “I can smell you.” He moans, “you smell so delicious.” One hand moves from your ass to swipe through your folds and he gathers some of your combined fluids to shove into his mouth under his helmet.

You almost cum from seeing him taste your combined fluids, the fact that he does that nearly makes you cum. When you feel his wet fingers dig into your ass, you move faster. The ridges of the beskar hitting your clit just right and you moan in response. “Oh fuck Din. I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum.” You whine, hips bucking wildly.

“Do it.” He rasps out, wanting to see you fall apart, to watch your cunt spasm right in front of his face. Your head tilts back, a loud cry wrenched from your lips and he groans, soft cock twitching as it tries to get hard again, but he needs more time.

You shake above him, thighs pressed against the now warm beskar and your hands slap against the wall behind your bunk as you try to balance yourself. “Fuck Mando.” You pant, grateful you aren’t smothering his face since you aren’t sure if you can move yet.

He hums, reaching up and caressing your spine gently while you are catching your breath. “So beautiful.” He praises, loving how you had just let yourself go with him. “You look so good like this on my helmet, that cunt is so pretty. Did you enjoy that?”

You giggle, breathless and still reeling from the orgasm. You shift to lay down beside him, resting your cheek on his shoulder. “That was - I’m lost for words.” You admit with a smile, “no one has ever made me cum like that and that much.”

He loves the feeling of your body stretched out along his. His arm curls around your shoulder and he hums. “Good.” He murmurs softly, fingers stroking your skin while he can. “You will sleep well.” He huffs happily.

“Oh definitely.” You murmur, already sleepy and you know you should get up and help him clean up, clean yourself up. “You need to clean and polish your helmet.” You smirk against his shoulder, “I made a mess of it.”

“I will do that later.” He murmurs, feeling your body start to get heavier as you relax against him. You will be asleep soon and he doesn’t want to move away from you right now. The kid is still asleep and he wants to be selfish for another minute. “Sleep, mesh’la. You deserve it.”

You can’t deny him or sleep even if you tried. He’s warm and just the right amount of muscle to make you feel secure as you doze off in your bunk. You feel safe for the first time in forever and you have the Mandalorian to thank for the best sleep of your life.

****

When you wake up, Din is back in his armor. He hadn’t wanted to leave your bed but he needed to. He had to clean up before the kid woke up and reality intruded. He had slept with you in his arms for a couple of hours, which was all he really slept at a time anyway. He had gently eased away from you and watched you for a moment before gathering his clothes to go back to the ‘fresher and cleaning up again. His gloves are on and cupping your cheek with a cup of broth for you in his hands when your eyes. “Hey, it’s time to wake up.” He murmurs softly.

You blink, wincing against the light until you see the Mandalorian above you, dressed in his full glorious beskar, and you notice the cup of broth in his hand and the other caressing your cheek. You turn to kiss his covered palm, smiling up at him. “Oh. Thank you.” Your voice is croaky from sleep and you move, shifting to sit up so you can take the cup.

You look beautifully sleepy and Din steps back. “I’ll leave you to get dressed.” He offers, shuffling slightly - awkwardly - in the face of the morning after. He wants to make sure that he didn’t hurt you and that you don’t regret it. “Are you- you okay this morning?”

You nod, “a little sore but I feel good.” You grin before you sip the broth, sighing in content at the warmth. “It was amazing. Thank you for last night.” You tell him as he hovers in the doorway. You need to shower but you are on cloud nine with the aches in your body from last night.

“Good.” His helmet dips quickly in a nod and from the other bunkroom, he hears the baby coo. Grogu is awake. “Well, I better get him before he gets into trouble.” He huffs, knowing that if he’s not careful, the kid will be into trouble in a heartbeat.

You watch him go, smiling into the broth and you hear him greeting the kid, making your smile transition to a grin. You desperately needed last night, you are aching but in a good way. You loved how rough he was yet so gentle after, such a contrast from the strong Mandalorian. You finish the broth and stand up on aching legs, deciding to get into the sonic shower again before you continue working on the droid.

“No.” Din shakes his head as he looks at Grogu, denying the kid but he’s not giving in. The tiny little three fingered hand presses against the now cleaned cheek of the helmet. He’s not going to remove it right now. “You need to eat.” The kid coos at him, making him huff slightly. “We are leaving in the next couple of hours and we aren’t stopping for a snack.”

You find Mando trying to feed the child and you giggle at his frustration when the child tosses the food on the food and laughs at the frustrated Mandalorian. “Maybe he wants something sweet. I got something for you, little man.” You promise, walking over to your secret sweet stash in a drawer in the parts area. You bring the cake bar back over to the kid, opening the wrapper. “Here you go.” You offer it to him and he grins at you.

“Great.” Din grunts and puts his hand on his hips. “Kid’ll be bouncing around for hours in the cockpit.” He doesn’t mind, as long as he eats something. Din himself has already eaten before he ever woke you up. He snorts when Grogu looks up and coos at him before he tears into the cake.

You chuckle, watching the kid demolish the cake. “Sorry. He’s just so cute, it’s hard not to want to spoil him.” You reach out to caress the child’s ear. “I still need to reprogram the mech so he has a few hours to get it out of his system. You need supplies? I can watch the kid while you go out.” You offer, knowing he probably wants some space after last night.

“No.” There’s nowhere that supplies would fit on the starfighter. He didn’t even have room for a weapons locker. It upset him, but he carried the darksaber and his other weapons on his body so it didn’t affect his ability to protect himself and the kid. “Do you need a hand?” He asks, waiting to stay around you.

“Yeah actually, you can. Thank you. Would you mind grabbing the tools on the side over there?” You ask, working on the motherboard. You want to program the droid to protect the child and Mando while also having some sass since Mando seems to like your own sass. Maybe it will remind him of you when he’s far across the galaxy. “Thank you.” Your fingers brush his gloved ones as he hands you the tools and you look into the visor before you continue working.

He grunts in acknowledgement, shifting his feet slightly in the sand and picking up a ratchet spanner so he can check a few of the seals on ship. He opens a panel on the side of the ship and tries to be casual. “So, uh, are you planning on staying on with Peli?” He asks, biting his lip under the helmet where you can’t see.

“It depends. I’m guessing that I will outstay my welcome when she finds a droid that can work on other droids.” You chuckle, knowing Peli puts her droids above anyone else. “For now, it’s nice to have a place to call home. I’ve been jumping from place to place and I have been grateful to not need to pack up my things and move on so fast.”

Din nods, understanding that, although for him it’s a way of life. He hums and wonders where home originally was for you. “Wish I still had my Razor Crest.” He murmurs. “It was a little easier when I had a ‘fresher” He chuckles. “And a vac tube.”

“I can only imagine how hard it is to move about all the time. Especially with this one.” You point at the child who is chasing one of the smaller droids around. You chuckle and turn back to the programming, knowing the Mandalorian probably wants to make a quick exit now that he has been fed and fucked. “I like the star fighter. Makes you even more intimidating…it’s sexy.”

Din chuckles and can’t even help the slightly cocky stance as he faces you. “You think I’m sexy?” He asks. “With or without the armor?” He’s curious to know if it was just an armor kink or if you had liked it when he stripped down. Especially because he never does that.

You turn to look at him, leaning against the counter. “Both, but you without the armor? I could barely breathe. You are - you are sculpted by the Maker and you take my breath away. You are beautiful Mando. Both with and without the armor.”

“You’re the first person I’ve taken off everything with in a long time.” He confesses quietly. “It was very memorable.” He sighs and closes the panel. “Think you’ll be here when I come back?”

You smile, happy he wants you to be here when he returns. “I’m sure I’ll be here when you return…unless Peli has had enough of me.” You snort, crossing your arms. “Why? You wanna have some more dirty sex when you return.” You wink, grateful the child is occupied with a rock that the droid kicked up.

Din snorts. “If I still had the Crest, I’d be offering you a spot on my crew.” There was no crew, but he would make something work to have you there with him. Fixing the ship and sleeping in his bunk.

“Yeah? You’d want me making a mess on your ship?” You tease, knowing he’s being serious but you know if you let yourself give in to that fantasy, you’ll both get hurt. “I doubt I could squeeze in with the mech.” You chuckle, a little nervous about how intense this has become. You’d go with him, you know you would and that’s terrifying.

“You’re good with the kid.” He’s noticed that too, not just how good you fuck. Right now it’s not feasible, not with his mission. “But I doubt you would want to go to Mandalore.” Hell, he doesn’t want to go, but he needs to.

You are surprised at his mission, “you are going to Mandalore? But I thought - I thought it was destroyed?” You frown, remembering the stories you were told as a little girl.

“It was.” He walks over to the tool rack and puts the ratchet spanner back. “I have to see what is left and find the living waters.” He doesn’t know why he is telling you this, but he does.

You watch him inspect the tools and you continue working on the droid. When you are finally done reprogramming, you rebuild the mech and within moments, it beeps while it comes back to life. The child tilts his head in response, cooing in excitement and you turn to look at the Mandalorian, wishing you could see his face. You are finished with the task he assigned which means he is free to leave.

Din looks around the bay for a moment before he walks over to you. He takes credits out of his belt and hands them to you. “For the repairs.” He murmurs. When you take them, he steps closer. “Close your eyes.” He orders, deciding that he’s going to give into his desires.

You are anxious but obey, closing your eyes and you are surprised when you feel his lips press against yours. His gloved hands cup your cheeks and the kiss is a little clumsy but your heart pounds in your chest. You squeeze your eyes together when he pulls back, a soft smile on your lips and you reach up to touch them, unable to believe he just kissed you.

“Tell Peli that she should keep you around.” Din walks over to Grogu and picks the baby up while the hoist puts the mech droid back in the Star fighter. He turns back towards you and wishes that there was something else wrong with the ship so he could stay longer. “I’ll be back.” It’s almost a promise but he knows you might not be here when he does come back.

You open your eyes, knowing he can promise but he can’t guarantee. You already accepted that this would be a one time thing but it doesn’t stop your heart from aching. “I’ll be seeing you Mando.” You declare, hoping that you can say it and it will come true. Once Grogu is in his seat, you walk over to the Mandalorian. “Be safe.” You request, caressing his chest plate.

He nods, “I’ll try.”

You step back, biting your lip as he gets into the star fighter. This is likely the last time you’ll see him, certain Peli will kick you out before he returns. You wave when he lifts up, watching until the ship is but a spec in the sky.

****

It’s been six long months since he’s seen the dry, dusty planet but Din shifts slightly in his seat as he makes his way to Peli’s hanger. He wants to see if you are still there. The kid coos in his lap and Din hums. “Yeah, we’ll get you some food.” He promises, concentrating on the landing and trying not to look for you in the shade of the hanger. Once the engines are shut down, he opens the canopy and sets Grogu on the transparisteel before he climbs out.

Peli comes out, followed by her hoard of droids and she grins when she sees the ship. “Mando!” She greets him when the hood is opened and immediately takes the child, cooing at him and telling him she is going to get him something to eat. Mando can’t help but look around the hangar, looking for you, and he hears a clanging and you stumble through the doorway.

“That stupid droid just squirted me with oil.” You curse as you wipe your face until you pause, seeing the Mandalorian standing there. “You’re back.” You gasp softly.

“I said I would be.” He walks towards you, the feeling in his chest telling him that what he had decided on the way here was right. He hadn’t made a bad choice. He reaches out when he’s close. Swiping away a spot you had missed before he drops his arm again. “Mesh’la.” He murmurs before he takes a deep breath and reaches up to remove his helmet.

Peli’s eyes widen and you inhale sharply, almost reaching out to stop him, but when his face is revealed, your heart pounds. “Mando-” You choke and he shakes his head.

“Din. Call me Din.” He orders and you grin, reaching up to cup his cheeks.

“Din.” You whisper, in awe of how handsome he is. His beautiful brown eyes staring at you like you’re the only thing in the galaxy.

“Well I missed something.” Peli huffs, but Din ignores her, leaning into your touch.

“I have a lot to tell you, Mesh’la.” He hums. “But I need to make sure that what happened, what I thought you felt for me, wasn’t a fluke.” He bites his lip and turns to kiss your palm. “Would you leave with me?”

You glance over at Peli, feeling guilty for leaving her in the lurch. "Don't look at me, sweetheart. You got a handsome man asking you to leave with him? I know my answer." She grins and you bite your lip, turning back to Din. "Yes!" You squeal, surging forward to wrap your arms around his neck. "Yes, I would."

He chuckles. “There are some things you should know.” He warns you, pulling you close but looking into your eyes. They look so different without his helmet. “We- I am the leader of Mandalore.” He admits quietly. “I need- children. I need to lead my people from the shadows.”

You raise your eyebrows as you lean back to look at him, "you need - wow. That is - are you - do you-?" You stammer, unsure of how to ask the question. Does he want you to be the mother of his children or does he want a Mandalorian. "Do you - do you have someone in mind?" You ask quietly and Peli rolls her eyes.

“Mesh’la, I want you to come back with me.” He explains, reaching up to cup your cheek. “To marry and have children with me while I rebuild Mandalore.”

You are surprised but your heart pounds in your chest and you surge forward to press your lips to his. "Yes. Yes. I, Maker, this is crazy but I want that. I want to be yours, to have your children." You murmur against his lips.

“Well it’s about time you settled down. Mando!” Peli crows. “But hey, uh, would you consider leaving the kid with me?” She asks as she looks down at Grogu.

Din shakes his head. “The kid comes with me.” He tells the older woman as he smirks and leans in to kiss you again. “I’m also stealing your mechanic. She’s going to the the Manda’lor’s riddur.”

You grin, shocked but so happy to be his. You are excited for the future and you will be by the Mandalorian's side. His riddur. You look down to see the child who waddled over, offering you a goofy grin and you bend down to pick him up, holding him between you and Din. Your new family. "The Manda'lor's riddur. I like that." You smile up at Din.

"Just remember to name one of your kids Peli." Your boss claps, a wide smile on her face.

"Middle name." Din compromises and Peli pouts, making you giggle. Din never imagined a droid would help him find his riddur but now he finds he loves the mech that rides in his ship who beeps happily at the new couple.

#pedro pascal #the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian imagine #mando fanfiction #mando smut #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x f!reader #mando imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin

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talaok · 1 year

Text

Close your eyes

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Summary: After a few months of living in your new cabin on Nevarro, Din confesses to you he's ready to take the next step.

warnings: smut| oral sex (f receiving) and baby-making sex

[I know his name isn't Din but I couldn't bring myself to call him Djarin, sorry]

"he's getting really good at it" you sighed happily.

You and Din sat on the porch of the new cabin Greef Karga had granted you.

The air smelled fresh, the sky was beautiful as the sun set, and your head rested on Din's shoulder while his arm kept you close.

Grogu was "playing" with the frogs inhabiting the pond right in front of the house, although I'm not sure the frogs would have called it that.

Everything was alright.

After all this time, these fights, these adventures, everything was fine, actually, more than fine.

It was perfect.

"he is" he agreed, his thumb stoking your side "but he still needs training"

You scoffed "Please, he could beat you with a flick of his hand"

He laughed "he wishes"

"don't worry" you pretended to reassure him "There's no shame in being the least strong of the family"

"least strong?"

"weakest sounded mean" You bit down a smirk

"You think you could take me?"

"I know I could take you"

" Sweetheart, there's only one way you can take me," he said "and even for that you needed training"

you felt heat rise to your cheeks at the remark, and it was as if you could see the smug grin tugging at his lips even through the helmet.

"Don't flatter yourself mando" You placed a hand on his chest "there's many ways I can take you" you explained "What you're thinking of is just the one you like the most"

His hold on your side got tighter "I sure do like it"

"do you?" you mocked, raising a brow " Would have never guessed it" you giggled, hearing him chuckle also.

Your eyes trailed to the sun behind him, its light almost completely engulfed by the horizon.

"it's getting late," you said "The kid needs to go to sleep" You got up, walking to Grogu.

He didn't offer much resistance today, and you were able to pick him up with just an annoyed coo.

"say goodnight to Daddy" You stopped in front of the entrance, facing him towards Din.

He emitted the cutest sound you've ever heard, and as always, your heart warmed.

" 'night kid" he waved in return, before you stepped into the house.

In the few months you'd been living here you had managed to already make it a home.

Pictures and memories filled each shelf and empty space on the wall.

Grogu's room was small, but not any less full.

Din had built him a course where he could jump from the floor to the wall and to the ceiling thanks to some wooden panels.

The kid loved it. What was hard most times, was making him stop.

"alright" you smiled, setting him down into the crib Din had created for him "It's time to go to sleep sweetpea" You kissed his forehead, earning a happy coo "Sweet dreams" you whispered, glancing at him once more before turning to the door.

You almost gasped as you saw Din standing there, casually leaning on the side of it.

You shook your head, laughing a bit as you followed him outside, closing the door behind you.

"you scared me" you scolded him

"I'm sorry sweetheart," he said, stoking your cheek.

He paused for a second, like he was hesitant, before speaking again.

"you're really good with him," he said

"I know"

"I mean... you're good with kids"

"thank you?"

He let out a breathy laugh,

"he seems happy"

"well he's got a family" you smiled "We all do"

"right, but don't you think he's a bit..."

"What?"

"lonely?"

your mouth gaped open

"You mean...?"

"Maybe he needs someone his age to interact with"

"like a brother?" you intertwined your hands behind his neck, "you think we should give little Grogu a brother?" you grinned, not able to hide your excitement

You could hear his breathing from underneath the helmet.

he was nervous.

"would you like that?"

you paused, stunned at the fact he even had to ask.

"I would" you smiled so wide your cheeks hurt "I would really like that baby"

He let go of a sigh of relief, and you wondered for a moment, how long he'd been worrying about this.

He gripped your waist, his hands loving yet hard.

"then we better get to work" he smiled, not giving you any warning before picking you up.

A little squeak fled your throat as you grabbed onto him.

"Eager much?"

"you have no idea" he purred, kicking the bedroom door open and closed in one swift motion.

He sat on the bed and you ended up in his lap.

"Close your eyes, sweetheart"

You were just waiting to hear that.

It was such a simple sentence, and yet it meant so much.

It was the symbol of trust and passion, but most importantly, of love.

It was his way of saying he would trust you over anything, and your way of saying it back.

You closed your eyes, the world going pitch black once more.

You heard a familiar sound, and then something hit the ground,

his helmet.

Seconds passed, but the anticipation was so strong your skin felt on fire, and then, like water in the desert, came his lips on yours.

He kissed you sweetly, a way of thanking you, of loving you, and you kissed him back with everything you could.

Your hands went to his face, stoking and palming all you couldn't normally feel, while he was holding yours between his fingers like you were about to slip away.

"You're beautiful" he breathed, leaning back ever so slightly,

"you too" you smiled, making him laugh.

"you can't see me"

"I can feel you," you said "I know you're handsome"

He kissed you again

"I love you"

"I love you too" you promised, but were quickly cut off by your own gasp as he quite literally manhandled you so your back was on the bed.

"maybe give me a warning next time?" you chuckled, as you felt his hand on your thighs.

He was kneeling in front of you.

"oh but I like the pretty sounds you make" he kissed your skin

"do you?"

"I do" he kissed you again, his trail getting closer to the hem of your skirt "I like them a lot" another peck "Although I do like some other sounds you make better"

"Like what?" you asked playfully

He grabbed the end of your skirt "Like the ones you make when you're desperate for me"

"desperate?"

"yes, desperate" he murmured, pulling your skirt off.

Your mouth opened but you forced the gasp climbing your throat back from where it came from, making him chuckle.

"I'm never desperate"

You couldn't see it, but you could feel the smug smirk on his lips.

"Are you now, sweetheart?" he mocked, his fingers grazing your panties and making you hold your breath.

"I actually seem to recall many times where you were the one begging"

touché, he thought

"That's because you tease" he explained, his torturous fingers still just dancing on where you needed him the most.

"so you're telling me that I stopped touching you right now you'd be fine with it?" the bastard asked.

"Din..."

"What?" he kissed your clothed cunt "You wouldn't be desperate would you?"

you sighed, frustrated "No, just-"

"What, baby, what is it?"

"don't stop"

"why?"

God, you hated him so much.

You'd never taken back something so quickly, but he was able to do that. That taunting asshole.

"Because I need you" you confessed "Please"

He smirked "There she is"

You didn't even have time to breathe that your panties were off of you.

He spread your legs, and you had to bite your lips in anticipation as he gripped your thighs.

"you're so wet baby" he groaned, his breath fanning against your core.

"I wonder why, you bastard"

"Easy there" he kissed your clit, making you gasp "Wouldn't want me to stop,"

"Baby-"

he didn't let you finish as he finally dove in, his tongue tasting all of you before he started focusing on your clit.

"Oh my god" you whined, already a mess.

He was holding you firmly as your whole body begged to move.

"fuck baby, please" you moaned loudly, as he kept going unfazed.

It felt like a fire had started inside your body, and once his fingers grazed your hole, a bucket of gasoline spread it everywhere.

"din!" you cried once he pushed them in, your hand going to grip his hair.

"That's right, say my name sweetheart" he murmured as he pumped his digits in and out of you.

A filthy sound spread through the room, and you were shutting your eyes so forcefully you were seeing white dots.

"fuck, din" you breathed, feeling yourself get closer as he sucked your clit so perfectly.

His fingers curled inside of you, hitting your spot and making you cry, but his mouth didn't stop, licking and worshipping all of you.

"c'mon sweet girl, come for me, I know you're close" he murmured "I can feel it," he said, before resuming his work somehow even more intensely.

Shocks of pleasure kept coursing through you, but as he curled his fingers one more time, you were sent over the edge, your orgasm washing over you powerfully as you gripped his locks for dear life.

Who cares if you hurt him. He caused this.

"shit" You let out a breath, once you were done and he leaned away.

"You're so beautiful when you come honey," he said, taking your hand still on his head and kissing it softly " I wish you could see it" he murmured, leaning away.

You whined, reaching for him through the dark behind your eyelids "Where did you go?"

"I'm here baby" You heard some noises and then a louder one.

He had taken his suit off.

When you felt him again, he was holding your waist. Not for long, however, as his hands quickly started exploring your body, spreading goosebumps with his touch.

Then finally, you felt his digits infiltrate under your shirt, and in a moment, you were fully naked.

Next, his lips were on you, on your jaw, your neck, your collarbones, all painted with the sweetest of tiny pecks as he kept caressing your body.

One of your hands went to his back, keeping him close, while the other trailed down his bare chest longing for his manhood.

"please baby" you whined "I know I said I wasn't desperate before but I take it all back" you laughed softly "Please, I need you"

"You need me?" he kissed your mouth, and you nodded

"I do"

"I do too" he purred, kissing you again before positioning himself at your entrance.

"you ready?"

"please"

And just like that, he thrusted into you.

You moaned far too loudly as he groaned.

For as many times as you'd felt him, you could never quite get used to it, he still stretched you in the best way.

"god" he growled "you feel so good sweetheart" he started moving "You're perfect"

There were so many things you wanted to say, but his dick hitting you so deep was causing troubles to the communicating part of your brain.

"I can't believe you're mine" he spoke, "that you want this"

"of course I do" you moaned " I want to be yours Din" you cried "only yours"

The bed was creaking underneath you, and his thrusts were soft and sweet, but god if they weren't deep.

"I want to have your kid"

"you do?" his breath fanned over your mouth

"I do, Din" you promised "I want to have another mini-you that will help you make me go mad" you laughed "I want to have a bigger family" you breathed "to be yours, forever"

He couldn't do anything but kiss you, hoping that at least one percent of his adoration for you passed through.

"I love you more than anything y/n" he said "and I want to give you my kid" he swore "to see in them all I see in you" he continued, as his thrust continued undaunted "and to grant them the best mother one could ask for"

You smiled widely, feeling tears prick your eyes.

"then do, baby" You intertwined your hands behind his neck, bringing his lips to yours "give me your kid"

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