#mando x fem!reader

[spacecowboyhotch]

Ambrosial

summary: he knows your scent— he knows your heart and now he knows your people.

pairing: din djarin x fem!black!reader

contents: longing, pining, fluff, cultural differences

wc: 2.5k

an: this has been a longggggg time coming but this one's for you @cptn-nash and for all of the black women who feel left out of fandom. there’s always space for you.

pedro characters masterlist

The crest always smells like citrus with a hint of cinnamon these days. If Din closes his eyes he can imagine himself standing in an orchard with you by his side.

The warm, fresh smell is all thanks to you— to your hair, your people, and your culture. All things that you hold close to your heart and in turn, Din tries to respect. But, it is not lost on you that he cannot understand the importance of hair to you and your culture completely, not when his is hidden inside of a helmet day in and day out.

What he does know is how much he enjoys yours— watching the way your curls move when you walk, how they pile into the crown when you tie them up, how a bit of them spill out of the silk scarf you wear at night when Grogu refuses to sleep without you and the two of you take over his bed. He has to tear himself away from the sight of you—dark skin lit up in the moonlight and his foundling in his arms— slinking off to your bunk. But there is a reward when he gets there— the sweet, concentrated scent of you rests on the fabric of your pillow.

In the deepest recesses of his mind, there’s a place where there’s just the three of you. Din holds to his creed, unwaveringly so, but here there is no worry of exile. No worry that you or Grogu will be taken away from him on one of your adventures through the galaxy. There is just you, holding his son, curls blowing in some light evening breeze. There is just him, wrapping his arms around the both of you, his nose pressed into the crown of your head as he is able to succumb freely to your scent. He doesn’t let himself go there often, not when he is so unsure that he will ever have it.

The two of you are charted for a bounty when you ask him to make a detour that is quite out of the way— you need something for your hair. And while he’s more than happy to make sure your needs are met, he has to ask.

He glances back at you, his voice soft and not unkind as he asks, “Could you not use my things?”

If you didn’t share the fresher with him you doubt he even had things. He does, though they aren’t as intricate as yours. There are worse things than smelling like the Mandalorian, yes but proper hair care is sacred to you and your people.

You smile at him, shaking your head, “No, it doesn’t work like that. There are specifics, rituals, ingredients.”

“And it is…strict? Necessary?” You can practically hear the confusion in his voice, his lack of understanding.

“As necessary as this,” You murmur, leaning forward and raising a hand to cup the cheek of his helmet.

He blushes within the space of his helmet, unable to bite away the grin that spreads across his face. You and Din teeter on the edge of more— never explicitly naming or acknowledging any of the affection that passes between you, but undoubtedly knowing that the other is devoted. There’s something particularly sweet about his dedication without words. There is no doubt in your mind that he cares for you, but with this lifestyle, with his creed, neither of you make any move to change your relationship.

This is enough. It has to be.

When the silence sits thick between you for a beat too long, you start to ramble, “Like I told you before, hair is integral to our culture, it helps build every facet of relationships in my village. It sounds silly, but it's the basis of community. We would not be nearly as devoted to each other without hair at the center.”

He hums, delicately taking one of your curls in between his fingers. He studies it closely through the dark t of his visor, noticing the intricate way that it spirals. You let out a soft, shaky breath– feeling his eyes on you is something you’ve become used to, but the effect it has on you never dissipates.

“I could show you,” You murmur shyly, feeling the fascination in his gaze.

“Show me?” He repeats cautiously.

“Show you how my momma taught me to take care of it,” You suggest. After a moment of hesitation, you add, “Show you my home as you’ve shown me yours.”

The two of you have gone to Mandalore—just once, to show Grogu what should be his home and collect water from the sacred waters. You’ve always tried not to put too much stock in Din letting you tag along— where else were you meant to go if you’re his travel partner?

His helmet tilts, shock in his sandy voice, “You would take me to your home?”

You gaze with the black void of his visor breaks for a moment before you look up at him through your lashes, “Of course I would, so that you could see where I come from, how I’ve become who I am. You let me see yours. Would you like to see?”

He nods, finally releasing the curl that he was still holding between his fingers.

“Chart the course and then I will show you why I take so long in the fresher,” You say, backing out of the cockpit.

He meets you there just as you finish turning everything the correct way, labels up. You keep it all in a bin that you take to and from the fresher, not wanting to take up too much space.

You can’t see his shock but you can hear it in voice, in the way he tilts his helmet as he says, “This is…a lot.”

You laugh softly, before explaining, pointing at various bottles as you do, “There are different products for different times of year, holidays, special occasions.”

“Special occasions?”

“For one’s birthday or wedding. Even for a funeral. All milestones in life, from beginning to end.”

“And you must have all of it at all times?”

“You are to be prepared for all of the days of your and your neighbor’s life. If we were to meet someone from home during our travel and they were in need of something, then its my duty to help. It is our custom. Our way so to speak.”

Din hums in understanding. He understands living life a certain way more than anyone you’ve ever known. He starts to understand the importance— but this is just the beginning. He wants to know everything about your people, to fuse the two of your cultures into something loving and uniquely your own.

—

It takes the night to make it to your home, allowing you to arrive in the morning. You’d sent a communication to your mother as soon as Din had agreed, and she had excitedly responded, eager to see you after such a long stint away. Eager to meet Din, though you’d given her no indication that things had progressed romantically between the two of you.

When you wake in the morning, you find Din a little nervous to have the conversation that made you toss and turn most of the night. You know that he’s quite fond of Grogu, that he loves him with all his heart. You feel the same way, happy to take care of the little creature in any way that you can. It’s a bit confusing, raising a child with Din despite not knowing explicitly what you are. But, you love Grogu. Though you don’t let yourself think about it much, you love Din. You’d do whatever you could to make things easier for the two of them.

But what would your mother think about such an arrangement?

Din tilts his head at you in concern when you inhale a nervous breath, fingers twisting in your lap. He reaches for your hands, steadying them. “What’s wrong? Have you changed your mind?”

You gaze down at his gloved hand that covers nearly both of yours before you shake your head, assuring him quickly, “No, no, I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Then what is it?” He asks gently.

“I know that Grogu is yours, and I’m not ashamed or embarrassed. But, I think it best he stays on the ship while we visit my mother. I don’t want her to assume anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

He’s quiet for a moment, but you can practically hear the gears turning in his head. “You were nervous to ask me this.”

You snort, “He’s your son, Din, of course I was nervous.”

“I understand,” He says, squeezing your hand in reassurance. “The next visit, we can introduce him to your mother.”

The next visit. He plans to make this habitual?

“You’re sure?”

“It’s your home. I’m sure if you’re sure,” He declares with a shrug. As if the decision is that easy for him.

“Thank you, Din.”

He simply squeezes your hand again before clearing his throat, saying that he needs to make sure Grogu is taken care of before you two land.

—

When the ship door opens, you and Din are met with a plethora of people, headed up by your mother. Din can’t help but notice how much of her is in you— the same rich color of your skin, the curls though they are greying. Some of your beauty comes from her, and some of it is uniquely you.

She gathers you into her arms immediately, hugging you tightly. She guides your curls back so that her lips are at the shell of your ear, “We’ve missed you. I’ve missed you.”

“I know, mama. I’ve missed you too,” You whisper back, pulling back to give you a watery smile.

She turns her curious gaze to Din, looking him up and down. “This is who you’ve been traveling with. A Mandalorian who will keep you safe.”

Din nods his head, and you about melt with embarrassment at the way she’s sizing him up.

“Yes, mama, this is Mando. He is my—“ You start to say but Din cuts you off smoothly, extending his hand to your mother.

“Her partner. Din, Din is my name,” He murmurs, taking her hands into his.

The smile on your mother’s face matches your own— wide, flustered and accompanied by warmth that spreads through your entire body. He may be encased in metal but he can always make a woman swoon.

“Din. Thank you for taking care of my daughter.”

“Mama,” You scold, giving Din a nervous smile.

“It’s a pleasure,” He murmurs to her, his voice just as sandy and nonchalant as ever.

Your mother starts to guide you towards the villages, and Din offers you his arm which you take readily. You’re happy to walk in silence as your mother catches you up on all the happenings— who’s married, given birth, changed professions, or died. All of it goes in one ear and out the other as you try to digest what’s just happened.

He gave her his name. What more is to come?

Eventually, the two of you are sequestered in a corner of your mother’s house as she helps another woman with her hair when Din turns to look at you. You raise a brow at him in question.

He leans closer to you, speaking in a hushed voice, “One day you will teach me to care for my own appropriately.”

“What do you mean?” You whisper back.

You feel his gaze meet yours through his helmet as he says, “When you are truly mine and I am truly yours.”

Your heart skips a beat before pounding rapidly in your chest. You stare into the dark t of his visor, mouth open in shock. He’s full of declarations today, ones that you had hoped would be true but never got your hopes up for. He simply nods his head at you, one of his gloved hands coming to tangle with your own.

Meeting your mother has clearly changed things— all that’s been left unsaid is now cleared up with just a single sentence from him.

His hand doesn’t leave yours as your mother shows him around the village, introducing him as your partner to everyone she can get to speak to her. Din feels a little sheepish, heat creeping into his cheeks by your mothers candidness, by the curious stares of those she speaks to. You keep him close, answering any questions and doing all of the talking if anyone is curious enough to bypass your mother and speak to the two of you.

You don’t even let go to hug those you recognize, holding onto his hand firmly as you wrap an arm around a few of those you encounter. At this, Din’s flush deepens, butterflies in his stomach.

You make him feel like just a man— the most ordinary man in the best way— like he isn’t bound to his creed or this life of hunting. You make him feel like he’s just your Din. A man so desperately in love with a woman that he’d do anything she asked and then some.

Your mother sends you home with droves of oils and butters and soaps. Some of them are for you, but by the labeling and color you can tell that many of them are for Din. There’s a variety, as with the helmet she couldn’t properly see the texture of his hair and gather the corresponding products. It’s your mother’s way of telling you she approves and you hold her tight, murmuring a soft thank you as you bid her goodbye.

The two of you unpack Din’s things, setting the bottles and containers up in a perfect line. You even fetch your own, adding more clutter that both of you are immediately quite fond of. It means more than Din could know, but he’s starting to learn.

He invites you into his bed that night and unlike all of the previous times he stays, gathering you into his arms in the pitch-black space. For the first time, you feel him. He buries his nose into your hair the way he’s always dreamed about.

That night once you’re asleep, Din heads to the fresher, curious about all of the things your mother had sent off with the both of you. You spent a lot of time here earlier— even more than usual. As soon as he’s inside, he sees why. You’ve labeled everything step by step and added his name to the products that are his.

He spends an ungodly amount of time under the water, closing his eyes as he succumbs to the sweet smells. And though they all smell wonderful, he finds himself reaching for your things. He wants to be surrounded by your scent.

When he slides under the covers beside you later, he smells like citrus— that telltale hint of cinnamon. He smells like you. One day, he’ll let you bury your nose in his hair so that you can smell him too. Until then, his helmet is filled with the scent of you and he will have it no other way.

#din djarin x black!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #mando x black!reader #mando x reader #mando x fem!reader #black!reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fanfiction #arson writes

[wandasfifthwife]

Din Djarin | misunderstandings

Din Djarin x fem!reader

tw: pinning after each other, sorta confessions, misunderstandings, reader used to be mandalorian, reader gets a bit insecure, din is confused, mentions a past-gunshot wound, hurt/comfort, happy ending

a/n: idk if this fandom alive anymore but I still love this man sooo, enjoyment is wished upon whomever this lands upon. This is shit writing and I’m so sorry. I’ll re-read and edit later (if you read and enjoy this now… thank you for loving me at my lowest fr)

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You’ve been on his ship now for almost a year, the months feeling like they were slowing down the further time went by. He originally treated you like a co, only asking what was needed, very obviously separating you from his personal life.

The ship had crashed some time ago, the both of you stranded on a desert planet for almost two months. Something had shifted, changed, and it got worse. The air felt thinner when he was close and your heart would pound.

You felt he cared to listen when you began to share small details about you like where you grew up, what scares you, how you got a scar on your forearm. You felt he began to change too.

“cyar’ika,” his tone is straightforward, “go to bed, you’re just straining your muscles now.”

It scared you when he began to use that instead of your name. You were too frightened to ask what it meant. The only tone he speaks in is monotone and he wears a helmet, it’s hard to read him. Everytime you think you begin to understand, you feel him slipping further away.

You hear a banging sound, one that happened because you drop the boxes from your grip.

“Was only trying to help,” you quip, stepping beside him to enter into the ship.

He shuts the door behind you, asking about the kid. You arrange the boxes so they’re out of the way, “he fell asleep minute after you left.”

He hums, the sound muffled slightly from his helmet. You stand near him to try and get the last package, though with the distance and your strength the box ends up falling to the ground and on your foot. You almost go still from the pain, chest growing tight as you tried to work through the pain. The mandalorian takes the box off of your foot as soon as it fell, a hiss sounding from him.

His body is tense when you try to walk, obvious pain showing on your face. He’s oblivious to how it cringes even more at the name. Sitting yourself down, you cradle your foot, tears coming to your eyes and you blink them away. The sight of tears startles him.

“Your injury, is it hurting that—?”

“No,” you cut him off, “I’ll be fine, I think it just bruised it.”

He offers you a hand, “ner sarad. Get off the floor.”

You swat it away and attempt to get up on your own. How stupid could you be? He’s only ever called you these names in an accusing manner. You had hope, but now that you’re looking back, you’ve lost it.

Last week he used it when you had gotten shot in the shoulder after chasing him for hours. About a month ago you remember him using his language in an angry manner when you argued.

A quiet sob escaped you, “why are you always getting angry at me?” You go limp when his hands come under you, lifting you so he can place you down on his bed. You’re stuck between wanting to push him away and pulling him closer to you. He works on removing your shoe and lifting your pant leg with a sigh.

“The words I’ve been using are terms of endearment,” he gently rubs his thumb over the already forming bruise, “cyar’ika means beloved.”

“I thought you were cursing my name out, using them as expressions of anger.”

“I started using them since you mentioned you were mandalorian once.”

He pats your thigh, getting off the ground to grab the medical supplies. You wince as he wraps your foot tightly, “I was, but we’ve never used those terms. We only called one another by our given name. I didn’t know those words existed.”

“And I’m a fool for assuming your clan was the same as mine.”

“Not a fool,” you smile at him, “you were trying to flirt and I interpreted it as sarcasm. I’m the fool.”

He stands, a hand coming to cup your cheek, “I can teach you, ner kar’ta.”

Your hand covers his, a shiver going through you at the warm feeling of his glove, “what is ner kar’ta?”

“My heart.”

#mando x reader #mando #the mandaloria/reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #hurt/comfort #reader is female #mando x fem!reader #din djarin x fem!reader

[nobedofroses]

The Garden of Eden, Part III

Summary: Din Djarin x sex worker!fem!reader. You aren’t accepting clients on the day celebrating love, but can you really say no to the Mandalorian?

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: reader is a sex worker, discussions of sex work, smut (18+): grinding, nipple play, unprotected p-in-v sex

A/N: part three 10 months later! that being said, this should be viewed as vignettes into some of their interactions with an overarching theme rather than a narrative plot lmao if that makes sense. They just wanna be horny on fake Valentine’s Day, but happy real Valentine’s Day to all of youuu 💘

Part I, Part II, Directory

(self explanatory hot gif)

⫸⫸⫸

The planet on which the Garden of Eden was located had an annual holiday celebrating love. It celebrated any type of love; familial, romantic, platonic, and any other kind you could think of. Not as big as other holidays, it didn’t have planet-wide festivals, but there were decorations, markets, and food devoted to it. 

It also happened to be one of the only days during the year that you elected not to work. You hadn’t grown up with the holiday, but it was so sweet that you adopted it as your own. Besides, you knew all of your clients should be spending it with their loved ones instead of you, the fuckers. 

Some of the other courtesans also took the day off to celebrate and take part in the festivities. But other than getting some of the specialty food and drinks to take back with you to your room, you liked to spend the day by yourself. You treated it as time to get back in touch with yourself and do any kind of self-care that took longer than you typically had time for. Essentially an entire day when you could just love yourself. 

About midday, you were moisturizing after your long bath when you heard a light knock on your door followed by a moor decisive but short one. Thinking maybe one of your regulars had sent you a gift (not unusual), you slipped on a short satin robe and opened the door to find Lilas and Lys standing in your doorway. Lilas looked unsure and Lys the exact opposite; you always found it funny that they had become so close, but Lys was protective and Lilas accepted their infrequent verbal communication, knowing how to understand them in other ways. But they were empty handed. 

Quirking an eyebrow, you leaned your hip against the doorframe, “You both know I’m not taking any clients today. Madame knows too.” 

“Yes, it’s just that…” Lilas trailed off, looking to Lys for assistance, who rolled their eyes fondly and continued, “It’s Mando.” 

Immediately all of the nerves in your body perked up. Whenever you knew he was near you couldn’t help your reaction. Hell, you were already starting to get a little bit wet. But today was your day. The reason you didn’t take clients was your own, and what would it mean if you made an exception? But it was Mando. 

For others, you wouldn’t even consider it, but with him… there was a bond, an understanding there that you didn’t have with any other client. Any other person. 

Since you preferred to avoid thinking about the emotional aspect, your mind wandered to the physical, how he made you feel better than anyone else had. Better than you could yourself most of the time. Maybe letting him visit you, letting him make you feel good was an act of self-love in and of itself. Maybe— 

“We already told him it was a long shot. We can go tell him no,” Lilas rushed out, taking your long silence for a rejection of the idea. 

“No, um, you can tell him yes, but he has to wait thirty minutes,” you shifted, thinking about how you wanted to get ready for him if this was actually happening. 

“Extra?” Lys asked and you met their eyes quickly. There was a small warning in their gaze and you nodded, grateful for the reminder. 

“Yeah, same as the wake-up cost. Can you tell him?”

They nodded and you smiled briefly before the two walked away and you shut the door. You slumped against the door, instantly starting to question whether you should have done that or not. 

But then you straightened. You didn’t have time for that. If you were going to take your time and get ready for him the way you wanted to get ready for him, you needed to start now. 

___

Thirty minutes later, Din was being escorted upstairs and to your room. He hadn’t known about Love Day; it seemed like planets he visited were always having one sort of celebration or another. So he was surprised that you weren’t accepting clients. And then more surprised that you accepted him. If you had taken the day off, he figured you would be spending it with someone special. But apparently you had been alone. Not that you weren’t special all by yourself. 

Times like these were when he was happy he didn’t speak very much because fuck that was awkward. 

When the courtesans knocked on the door, Lilas and Lys if he was remembering correctly, you told them it was open. Lys pushed it open and the two of them gave him a once-over as he walked past. He was used to being the intimidating one with all of his armor and weapons, but something told him those two were to be feared. 

He entered the room and noticed all the differences to how it was normally. Everything was blanketed in a soft, peachy glow, and instead of the larger light in the ceiling, there were a couple lamps dimmed with scarves over their shades and a few candles. 

The room also smelled like you. Or the fragrance you wore. It wasn’t overpowering, but stronger than it was normally when you had only put it on yourself. Din glanced around the room, finally noticing you on the cushy chair you never seemed to be sitting in. You had been observing him like he had been observing your room. There wasn’t much of an expression on your face, like you were waiting for his reaction and would adjust your response based on that. You were a professional, after all. 

He gestured around the room, “Is this permanent? Or is it for… Love Day?” 

You smiled at his awkwardness and shook your head, “This is what I do when I have a day to myself. Makes it feel different than just where I do my work.” 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’ll pay double,” he told you quickly. 

You smiled again, humming, “That could be good.” 

He was cute, always, but especially when he was being generous and kind. 

You stood then, and could tell even with the helmet and visor that he was looking you up and down. Having traded in your satin robe for a sheer mesh one with lacy edges, he could clearly see the pink lingerie underneath. A see-through corset and a flouncy skirt that did not hide the fact that you weren’t wearing underwear underneath. 

“Is that— is it a traditional Love Day outfit?” he asked, his voice coming out even raspier than normal. It was hard to tell with all the armor and padding, but you were pretty sure you could see his hard-on already. 

“Mmm, maybe more traditional for those that celebrate Lust Day instead,” you said with a giggle, walking over to him to lead him to the bed since he seemed to have forgotten that was where he should be heading. 

Once he was at the edge, he remembered himself and started reaching for the scarf he kept for you. But you put your hand on his arm and said, “I want a different one. You start with the armor while I grab it.” 

He normally didn’t take any armor off until you were blindfolded, but Din reasoned that there was nothing wrong with you seeing the flight suit underneath. While he worked on his vambraces, you went over to a lamp, switched it off, and grabbed the scarf from over top. As long as the light in the room wasn’t tricking him, it was pink as well, but darker than the candy pink of your lingerie. 

You held out the scarf to him and he didn’t bother inspecting it for sheerness, completely trusting that you understood how important it was to him for you not to see his face. 

The familiar feeling of him tying the scarf around your eyes made your body flush with warmth and you sighed, excited for what was to come. Instead of moving to the middle of the bed, though, you just sat on the edge and waited. 

By the lack of armor-removal sounds coming from the mandalorian, you could tell he was confused, so you thought you should enlighten him, “Love Day is my day for myself, so I want to do it my way today.”

You didn’t ask if it was okay or try to negotiate, you just told him what you wanted and waited for his reply. If he really didn’t want to, you would do it his way, but you would be disappointed in some deep way that you didn’t know would mend. 

Three seconds went by before his voice came out clear, “Your way.” 

Relieved and so excited, you couldn’t help but beam and bounce up and down on the bed a little bit, urging him on to, “hurry up and get undressed!” 

He chuckled, amused by your eagerness, and also spurred on by it. While he liked being in control and often felt he had to be to protect his creed, he was excited to see what exactly your way was. 

Once he was undressed, he reached for one of your hands and held it to let you know he was ready. With another smile at the warmth of his skin, you stood and exchanged places with him, briefly running your free hand along his side to feel his muscles and little soft rounded tummy. 

“Get in the middle of the bed, Mando,” you told him, and if there was ever a time that Din wanted you to know his name it was now. But he held his tongue, knowing that would open a door that should stay bolted shut. 

You let go of his hand so he could move and were glad to hear him shifting around, clear evidence that he could follow orders. Once the sounds stopped, you climbed on the bed as well, finding his legs and straddling him at the hips, not quite lined up where you knew his already hard cock was. He could wait a little bit longer, you wanted to drag this out. 

He didn’t move to touch you and at first you were surprised until you realized he was waiting for you to tell him and you were very, very pleased. 

“Touch me, Mando. But only over the lingerie,” you told him in a voice equal parts sweet and stern. 

Din’s hands came to your waist over the corset and he brushed his thumbs in a wide arc, just barely skimming the undersides of your breasts. You shivered and he smiled in satisfaction; he always loved to see how his touch made you feel. 

He could see your nipples harden through the translucent pink and his mouth watered, wanting to hear the little moans you made whenever he sucked on them deep. But he settled for touching them in teasing circles, before gently scratching his short nail over the peak. Your muscles jerked at the sensation and you gasped, your hands moving to his shoulders to try and stabilize yourself. 

His cock was hard between the two of you and while you weren’t touching him he swore he could feel the damp heat emanating from your cunt. The fabric of the little “skirt” you were wearing brushed his cock whenever you shifted and if Din wasn’t careful, that could be enough to undo him. 

He ran his fingers down to the hem of the corset and tugged on it, “Did you buy this?” 

“Why? Are you jealous?” you smirked. But after a couple seconds of him not answering, you kept on since you possibly shouldn’t know whether he was jealous anyway, “I did, wanted something nice all to myself. Can’t wear something this expensive with clients or it’ll get ruined.” 

Din didn’t want to remind you that he was a client and risk you hiding the lingerie away, so he rested his hands on your waist and said, “Did you wear it all day?”

“Mmm, no, I’ve been relaxing, sleeping in, taking a bath. I was just getting ready and was gonna invite some of the others to my room to watch some shows and maybe fool around a bit. Or just cuddle, who knows,” you mused, getting a little distracted by what your plans might have been.

Mando shifted underneath you and you raised a brow underneath the blindfold, “Do you like that? Would you ever want someone to join us?” 

Immediately, Din shook his head, and then told you, “No, I don’t like to share.” 

The steely edge in his voice sent a thrill down your spine and you made a little moaning sound before telling him, “More, touch me more. Anywhere.” 

He used his hands on your waist to pull up closer and then arch your back, leaning forward so he could mouth at your nipples through the fabric. Something about him being too eager or too obedient to take off the lingerie made you very hot and you wanted his cock, now. 

You tried reaching underneath you to palm him, but the way he had maneuvered your body meant your arm wasn’t long enough. But you really didn’t want to stop him from what he was doing to your breasts because it felt so good. Finally, you decided that you could wait for his cock if he was touching your clit instead. 

So you put one hand over his where it was on your waist and started guiding it down between your legs, saying, “Here too. Want you to make me so wet I don’t even need your fingers to stretch me first.” 

Din moaned around your nipple, fingers sliding through your wet folds and thinking you must be nearly to that point already. But he dutifully found your clit with his thumb, the rest of his fingers and palm splayed out possessively over your mound. 

Soon you were moaning in earnest, your hips trying to rock against his hand without accidentally pulling your breasts from his mouth. It was the best dilemma to have, and would have gladly came that way, moaning encouragement and telling Mando how fucking good he was making you feel. 

But when Din felt your wetness drip onto his cock, he couldn’t stand it any longer. He had been hard and leaking precum practically since he had seen your lingerie, and now he needed your pussy. 

He pulled back after one more soft bite to your nipple and used his now free hand (since it was no longer holding your breast exactly how he wanted for access) down to his cock, stroking himself in time to the circles he was rubbing on your clit. 

His breath was heavy, but his tone was determined when he said, “You’re ready now.” 

You could hear the sound of his hand on his cock and got instantly jealous, moving down quick enough that he couldn’t stop you from pushing his hand away when you found it and grabbing his cock yourself. The thick weight of his cock felt just right in your hand, and you knew it felt even better in your pussy. You lowered your hips until his tips brushed against your lips and then started swiping it through your folds to get it wet, your free hand braced on his shoulder for support. 

“Gonna ride— oh fuck,” you moaned as his tip pressed against your clit, “ride you, Mando. Till you fill me with your hot cum.” 

He moaned, his hands on your ass now, squeezing and feeling you up to keep from pulling you down onto his cock. 

“Do you want that, Mando?” 

“Yeah, fuck,” he groaned, hips starting to move up towards your because he needed to be inside of you. 

“T-tell me.” You were torturing yourself as much as him, but you wanted to see just how much he would do whatever you told him. The thought that there might not be a limit made more slick drip down onto his cock. 

He hesitated, moaning instead when you twisted your wrist as you stroked him, but even his pretty moans weren’t enough. “I said, ‘tell me,’” you told him firmly, pressing your nails into his shoulder briefly as a reminder. 

“I want you— dammit,” he cursed as you started lining up his tip with your entrance, hoping you would be able to let him push in if he just said it right, but the soaking warmth distracted him. “Want you to ride my cock.” 

You smiled big and bright, but it quickly melted away into a gasp of pleasure as you sunk down quickly on his cock, taking him all the way to the hilt. 

“Fuck, fuck me,” Din said under his breath, feeling like he was fucking you for the first time again. Which would really not be great since that had only lasted a minute and he wanted this to last forever. 

“I know, just getting, oh, just getting used to how big you are when I’m on top,” you told him, misinterpreting his quiet curse. 

All that did was make him moan again, and he couldn’t help but using his hands on your ass to try and get you to move. If you didn’t move, he might lose his mind.

Now that his cock was fully inside you, you put both hands on his shoulders to brace yourself and started rocking on his cock. Since you were still getting used to the stretch and just how fucking deep he was inside of you at this angle, you didn’t lift off of him very much, just grinding your hips forward and back, fucking yourself about an inch on and off his cock in the process. 

You thought about apologizing for not doing more, but all that came out of your mouth was a breathy moan as somehow his cock was pressing against all the best spots inside of you and the base was grinding against your clit at the same time. You did it again and then again in rapid succession, losing focus on everything that wasn’t his cock. 

Din couldn’t believe his view. Without any guidance or even words from him, you were practically humping his cock, over and over again, letting out these little whines and whimpers that had him throbbing inside of you. He couldn’t see your eyes, but based on the way your head was slightly tilted back and your senseless moans, he would guess that they were rolling back in your head. Oh and fuck, your mouth had been open to make all these sounds, and you were just starting to drool, a nearly overwhelming juxtaposition to how hard you were riding his cock. 

He pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth, an open mouthed kiss to get the spit from your skin, and that was enough to ignite another desire in you. You turned your head to catch his lips and kissed him, and Din was more than happy to absorb all your little sobs. Your kisses were artless, just warm presses of your mouth against his, but Din loved them, loved that you were so fucked out on his cock that you were breaking one of his unspoken rules to only kiss once after sex because apparently you just wanted to that bad. 

After a bit, though, you got too overwhelmed for even that and pulled away to drop your forehead to his shoulder, whining and crying in his ear, “Mando— Mando—” 

With all his attention focused on you, Din hadn't realized how close he was, how fucked out he was too, and before he could even begin to think better, he told you, “Call me Din.” 

Even in your dazed state, you knew what he meant, that Din was his name. The excitement you felt to know it outweighed any coherent thought over whether he should’ve told you, and you said to him, “Oh, Din, I think I’m gonna— Din!”

It was like just saying his real name was enough to make you cum, and you did, fucking yourself with the same short, deep thrusts that kept his thick cock buried inside of you as you clenched around it, covering him in another coat of slick. The pleasure of your high shot through your entire body, sending bursts of heat and desire through all of your nerves and all of your senses until your voice broke and your thighs shook, slowly coming to a stop because you no longer had the strength to keep going. 

It wasn’t until you lifted your head to offer him a kiss and an apology that you needed a second to recover before you could start fucking him again, your body shifting with the movement and revealing a stickier mess between your legs and up inside you that you even realized Din had cum at the same time. You figured out what had happened with a breathy laugh, understanding that one of the waves of warmth that had gone through your cunt hadn’t just been your orgasm, but his. 

That’s when you felt how heavy he was breathing too, and heard his little fucked out moans, your senses too overloaded to have heard the minute before. 

You still weren’t quite back to normal, but you wrapped your arms around his neck and settled yourself more perfectly on his cock, making him whine just a little. You kept from trying to get him to make that perfect sound again by reminding yourself that your legs were absolute jelly, and leaned in to kiss him instead. 

It was relatively short, both you just remembering how to breathe, but sweet and tender like he always was. 

You smiled, kissed his cheek, and said, “Din, I like it.” 

Despite himself, he blushed and grinned shyly, glad you couldn’t see. He tried to think of something clever to say but all that came out of his mouth was, “I like you.” 

A smile unlike any other filled your face and you moved your hand until you found his jaw and brushed your thumb over the grown out stubble that was there, that you loved feeling on your thighs. “I like you too. Can you stay a couple hours?”

Your hope was that the quick transition to logistics would prevent any awkwardness or realizations of being in too deep. 

It seemed to work, as Din chuckled, ducked his head so his nose could nudge at your neck and inhale your scent before asking, “Why? Already want me to fuck you again?”

Your chest got warm with slight embarrassment but even more excitement when you realized his dick was already starting to harden again. You did your best to answer his question, “Well, y-yes, but I also wanted to– oh—” but you got cut off as he deftly maneuvered himself to be kneeling, using the inertia of the motion to get you on your back below him, all the while keeping his cock pressed deep inside you. 

“You were saying?” Din asked, nipping at your pulse point and just barely starting to rock his hips against you. 

“W-was I?” you asked breathily, the smooth slide of his cock fucking away all coherent thought. 

“You were. I think you were about to say that this time, you want to do it my way,” he murmured, his deep, resonant voice washing warm tingles over your skin. 

“Yes, Din,” was your quick reply, earning a snap of his hips into you that made your pussy tighten and breath stutter. You hoped he could stay all day.

⫷⫷⫷

#din djarin #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x fem!reader #mando #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x fem!reader #mando x fem!reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #mando smut #mando fanfiction #smut #fic #series #nobedofroses #the garden of eden

[imaginedisish]

Two Weeks (Din Djarin x Reader)

Chapter 1 (Chapter 2 coming soon)

A/N: Hi everyone! Here is my first chaptered Din Djarin x Reader fic. I’ve got big plans and I hope y'all like it. Requests are still open. Bruce Wayne x Reader coming next!!! Thanks y'all!!! Enjoy :) (also this is gonna be based on Two Weeks by Grizzly Bear but each chapter will have it’s own name after this)

Summary: After running away from Luke’s training, Din is tasked with bringing you back to him. What neither of you anticipated was the connection that would come with being stuck together for two weeks.

Warnings: Eventual smut!!! So imma put an 18+ warning just to be safe. I don’t think this is going to be too slow of a slow burn (like I’m talking smut by the next chapter or chapter 3 so...), canon violence, implication that Din got another Razor Crest bc im lazy, creepy/sexual harassment-y Twi’leck, and my favorite: the one bed trope muahaha.

Word Count: 3,605

The holobooks glow a cerulean blue, illuminating the dimly lit shelves that stretched on for what seemed like miles. The library was unsettlingly quiet, too quiet. The silence gave you more than enough time to drown yourself in your own thoughts. 

You can’t help but go over that last conversation you and Luke had shared just two months ago. It plays over and over again in your head, tempting your brain to split open with guilt. 

“I’m not picking a side,” You shouted, storming towards the X-Wing you intended to take from Luke.

“But by leaving you are,” He insisted. “You’re giving into your fear, your hatred, your emotions.” His voice was stern, yet calm. It annoyed you. How could he possibly be so collected at a time like this?

“No!” Your shout was now a scream. “Leaving isn’t the same thing as picking a side.” You could feel your throat closing, growing hoarser with each syllable. “I’m done being an apprentice. I’m done serving someone else!”

And with that, you left.

You knew you had made the right decision, but you still felt undeniably guilty. You didn’t want to hurt Luke, but you needed to save yourself. You wanted to go down your own path, to make your own choices. 

After all, you had spent the first fifteen years of your life with the Empire. You’ve never known the full story, but you were apparently kidnapped by the Empire before you could crawl. They knew you were force sensitive, and so you always assumed you had come from some powerful Jedi Knight. Once kidnapped, you trained under Vader as an apprentice. While it was in small doses, you had brought out the light in him. Then, the Rebels found you during the Battle of Yavin, and took you in.

So, when Luke began training you, he was shocked to see that you already knew an abundance of Jedi skills. He realized that whatever was leftover of Anakin Skywalker had trained you. However, your Sith training was still certainly prevalent. But because of this, you felt as though you could use both sides of the force comfortably. You tried to explain to Luke that you found balance in using both the light and the dark, but he refused to understand.

Luke often treated you like you were something that needed to be cleansed, like something that wasn’t enough. He immediately forced himself into the traditions of the Jedi. You, on the other hand, knew that would be a mistake. 

You decided to steal the X-Wing and fly to Nevarro. You sold the ship and found a job as an archivist at a brand new library on the planet. Things had been going well, but today you simply couldn’t stop thinking about your past, about Luke. You could feel something coming, something that was connected to-

Suddenly a shiny figure covered in Beskar approached your desk. You swallow harshly, immediately sensing that he isn’t just here for the books. 

He’s here for you. 

“C-Can I help you?” You stutter. Your eyes flash under the desk, checking quickly to ensure your sabers are still there. Although, they aren’t quite yours. One was your father’s — whoever that was — and the other was Vader’s. Luke had given you your father’s, while you found Vader’s in the destruction of the Second Death Star. You never told Luke about it. 

“I’m looking for a Jedi,” The Mandalorian’s modulated voice snaps you back to reality. You know he means you, even though you don’t consider yourself a Jedi. You reach your hands out and attempt to discreetly force pull the sabers to you. 

You fail completely, as one knocks over a paper weight and a canteen of water before flying into your hands. 

“Guess that’s you,” He states matter-of-factly. 

You leap over the desk and sprint into the stacks, igniting your sabers in the process. The blue and red beams reflect against the gray marble floors, your boots pounding with each step you take. 

You look behind you, noticing that the Mandalorian is gaining on you. His armor clatters as he closes the space between the two of you. 

You concentrate your energy, bending down into the floor, and leaping up, bouncing from shelf to shelf until you reach the top of a bookcase. You look behind you again, and the Mandalorian is now climbing the shelves. You pause for a moment, knowing that he isn’t going to make it up as quickly as you did. 

“Who sent you?” You question as he continues up the case. 

His gloved hands finally reach the top. “A mutual friend,” He says, his voice a bit strained through his helmet as he pushes himself up. 

You point the red saber towards him as he stands just a few feet away from you. “Are you with the Empire?” You ask, swallowing the fear in the back of your throat. “Because if so, you can fuck off. I’ll kill you before you can take me back to wherever you’re stationed now. I’m not going back,” You can feel tears stinging in the corners of your eyes. “I-I’m not going back,” You say again, stuttering. 

The Mandalorian takes a single step towards you, slipping his blaster back into its holster. He puts his hands in the air, “Maker, no, I’m not with the Empire,” He takes another step towards you, and you slowly lower your saber. “It’s okay,” He breathes. Despite the helmet, you know he’s looking into your eyes. He can feel your pain. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

You close both sabers, still clasping the hilts tightly in your hands. “So, then who sent you?” You press, apprehensively closing the space between you and the Mandalorian. You feel as though you can trust him. You can tell he isn’t here to hurt you. If he was going to, he certainly would have already.

“Luke Skywalker,” He finally admits. “He asked me to bring you to him.” 

You scoff, shaking your head as you turn away from the Mandalorian. “No kriffing way am I going back,” Your voice is callous and coarse. You sit on the edge of the bookshelf, your heels tapping against the shelf below.  “He couldn’t even come get me himself,” You whisper, looking off into the distance. 

The Mandalorian stands next to you, and that’s when you sense something else. 

You look up at him, his armor glimmering in the blue light, and see a little green figure peeking through the brown sack around his waist. You smile softly, instantly feeling the force coursing through the little creature. 

“Who’s this?” You ask, reaching out towards him. The little guy reaches towards you too. Before the Mandalorian can stop him, the child falls into your arms. “The force is strong with him,” You say as you scoop him up. 

“His name is Grogu,” The Mandalorian remarks, snatching the child back. He reaches a hand out to you, “But now isn’t the time for introductions. I have to get you back to Luke.” 

You breathe deeply through your nose, sighing audibly as you exhale. You take the Mandalorian’s hand and stand up. “I’ll go with you on one condition.”

“I don’t negotiate with bounties,” He states nonchalantly. 

You roll your eyes. “The condition is that you bring me back here once I’m done talking to Luke. I don’t intend to stay with him for more than ten minutes.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, pondering your proposition. Finally, he nods. “Fine,” The Mandalorian huffs. “But then my condition is that I’ll do some bounties on the way, and you’ll stay on the ship with the child.” 

You arch your brow and shake your sabers. “You want me to stay on the ship? The wanted, force sensitive, Sith Lord-Jedi?”

The Mandalorian chuckles softly. For some reason you can’t quite place, your heartbeat speeds up at the sound of it. “Maybe I’ll think about it,” He says, walking away from you and jumping down from the bookcase. You follow closely behind him. 

“What’s your name?” You ask as you head towards the doors of the library. 

He doesn’t answer right away, as if he’s unsure of how to respond. “You can call me Mando,” He says finally. You nod. 

Mando. 

You grab your cloak from one of the hooks in the foyer of the lobby, and swiftly put it on. You lift the hood over your head, ensuring that you stay at least somewhat hidden, and exit the library.

—————————————————————————

After a mile or two of walking, you and Mando come across a cantina. He stops in front of it, carefully grasping his blaster. His visor looks down at you, and you meet his gaze. He’s heeding a wordless warning. 

But you didn’t need any warnings. You could handle yourself. 

You nod once and Mando presses a button that opens the door. You walk into the dark bar, music blasting from the speakers. 

“So, what are we doing here?” You ask, your eyes searching the cantina. 

Mando nods over to a corner booth. “You see that Twi’lek sitting next to that guy?” Mando asks, and you nod. “He’s coming back with us, whether he likes it or not.” 

“How do I help?” You question, moving your cloak to the side to grab your sabers. Mando reaches down to your hand in response, his gloved fingers wrapping around your wrist. 

“Not like that,” He says, his grasp still firm on you. You can’t help but notice the contact, the closeness. “Go sit in that booth over there,” His voice is barely audible as he points to the booth a few seats away from the Twi’lek. “And take the kid,” He says, pulling the bag off of him and handing it to you. You wanted to roll your eyes at the lack of importance in your job, but the cuteness of the kid quickly makes you happy to be of service. 

You head over to the table and sit down. Grogu wiggles out of the bag and into your lap. A feeling of safety washes over you as he makes himself comfortable, and there’s no doubt in your mind that Grogu is attempting to communicate to you that his father isn’t as bad as he appears to be. 

And you’re quick to believe him.

It’s clear that the child loves Mando, as Grogu fills your mind with images of the Mandalorian going above and beyond to save him, putting him above all else, sacrificing his own happiness just so Grogu can live a good life. It makes your heart warm. It gives you a certain feeling, a feeling you haven’t felt…

Ever.

“I get it little guy,” You whisper to him, rubbing his head with the fist of your hand. He coos and giggles as you squeeze him closer to you. 

But those feelings of safety and comfort and warmth turn into nothingness the second you feel a hand grip your shoulder tightly. 

You whip your head around to see another Twi’lek. “Can I help you?” You snarl condescendingly. 

The Twi’lek chuckles. “That’s no way for a woman to talk to a man who’s interested in her,” He answers. You roll your eyes. 

“Interested in what about me, exactly?” You question, placing the kid in the space next to you. “In getting your ass kicked?” Your voice is firm and growing louder with each word that leaves your lips. 

He brings his hand up to your chin, lifting it up so that you’re forced to meet his gaze. You grab his hand in response, trying to pry it off of you, but it’s no use. “You need to learn how to behave yourself,” He growls. You contemplate force pushing him off of you, or reaching for your saber and chopping him in half right here, but you know that would ruin Mando’s bounty, and it would blow your cover. 

“Let me go,” You demand, your eyes searching the room for some sort of escape. There was nothing you could do without giving up your spot. You look over to the other booth, attempting to catch Mando’s attention. You can hear the child screeching behind you. Your heart pounds in your ears. “Please just let me go,” You’re begging now. You don’t know what else to do. 

The Twi’lek scoffs. “Not happening. Not until you learn how to-,”

Two blaster shots ring out, and the Twi’lek immediately jumps back in fear. 

“You kriffing touch her again and you’ll end up like your friend here,” Mando says, holding up the lifeless body of the bounty. “I should kill you for just talking to her,” His voice is commanding as he closes the gap between himself and the Twi’lek. 

You grab the child and pull him into your chest. You can feel his fear, and you’re sure he can feel your own too. “It’s okay,” You whisper. “I’ve got you now.” Mando watches how you’re caring for Grogu out of the corner of his eye. Something stirs within him, something he can’t quite place. 

He storms over to you, bounty in tow, and grabs your arm. His gloved fingers once again find their way to your wrist, and he guides you out of the cantina. 

Just behind the cantina is a ship. You figured Mando had planned that whole thing out. Dragging a bounty for miles on end doesn’t exactly sound like fun. Regardless, you wanted to forget what had just happened. You had been through enough for one day, never mind an entire lifetime. 

“What kind of ship is this?” You ask, trying to make conversation. Mando’s grip on your wrist tightens, and he stops in his tracks. 

“You just almost got killed, or…” He trails off, looking down at the ground. “Or worse, and you want to know what kind of ship this is?” His voice is no longer strong or confident, it’s shaky and unsure. You’re shocked at how much he cares for your wellbeing. Even inside the cantina, something had come over him. No one, including Luke, has ever shown so much care for you before.

That’s when you feel the tears pricking at your eyes. That’s when you finally register the weight of what tonight’s events could have meant. 

“I-I’m sorry,” You stumble around your words, staring down into the orangey-tan sand coating your gray boots. 

Mando shakes his head, his arm moving up to rest on your shoulder. He rubs softly and breathes deeply. “No, don’t apologize. I’m being too hard on you,” He whispers. “Are you alright?”

You nod once. “I think so,” You reply, settling into his touch. It’s relaxing, warm, and you’re enjoying it far more than you should. You don’t know what it is, but there’s something endearing about him, something that lures you in and keeps you hanging. You want to hold onto the feeling, to keep it in your pocket and wear it around your neck whenever you can. 

He keeps his hand around your wrist while the other pulls the bounty along as you walk up the ramp together. He drops your wrist and yanks the bounty over to the carbon freezer. He makes quick work of the Twi’leck as you look around the ship. In the corner, underneath the cockpit, is a single bunk. Your exhaustion makes the makeshift mattress look extra comfortable. You could fall asleep standing up, to be honest. 

Mando finishes with the now dead bounty and stands by your side. You hand him the bag with the kid in it. He peers inside and catches a glimpse of a sleeping Grogu. You hear him chuckle through his modulator and you can feel that feeling again, that feeling that makes your heart want to burst. 

You smile softly. “So how long am I going to be a burden on you,” You joke, your smile widening. 

“Two weeks,” He says plainly. 

For some reason, two weeks didn’t seem long enough. 

Mando’s visor meets your gaze again. You can’t help but yawn, your exhaustion thoroughly catching up with you. 

“You should get some rest, we’ll be on Tatooine tomorrow,” He says, his voice equally thick with tiredness. “My bunk is down there, you can take it.” 

You furrow your brows. “What about you?” You ask. You really were going to be a burden on him. 

“I’ll take the cockpit,” He says back, pointing over to the uncomfortable looking chairs at the front of the ship. 

You shake your head. “We can share, it’s fine,” You insist. But Mando doesn’t listen. He walks towards the cockpit. 

“Maybe,” He finally responds, “But for now I’ll stay up here. I have to put in the coordinates and get us on course anyway.” 

You nod. “Goodnight,” You whisper, your voice coated with fatigue. 

“‘Night,” Mando whispers back as he takes his seat. You do as he says and waddle down into his bunk. 

Normally, something like this wouldn’t seem comfortable to you, being that the mattress was probably no more than two inches thick and the blanket was incredibly thin, but you were far too tired to care. It felt like heaven just to lay down, so much so that you drift off to sleep before Mando can even take off. 

—————————————————————————

There’s lightning, and a hooded figure. You can see Mando and the child on the other side of whatever platform you’re on, maybe on a rock somewhere off in the distance. Your sabers glow in your hands. You try to run towards the figure, but you’re stuck. You can’t move. 

The figure reaches out their hand, and force lightning pours out from their fingertips. You drop your blue saber and extend your hand out, electricity shooting from your fingers with twice as much force. Your eyes glow a threatening, dark yellow.

You scream out as the hooded figure fights back, increasing his force, stepping closer towards you. 

“The Mandalorian and the Child are mine now,” He says, his voice cold and cruel. 

“No!” You shout. “N-“

“No!” Your eyes open wide as you push yourself up on your forearms. You practically smack your head on the roof of the bunk. You’re shivering. You can’t tell if it’s just the temperature of the ship, or if it’s a product of the nightmare you just had. 

But that wasn’t just any nightmare, it was a vision. You had never seen that place, that planet before. And the pain you felt, it stemmed from a place, a feeling you just haven’t felt yet. 

Love, true love.

You can hear the clunking of metal above you, and seconds later, Mando appears at the entrance to the bunk. 

“Are you alright?” He’s panicked and practically shouting. 

“Y-yeah,” You mumble. “Sorry if I woke you, it was just a nightmare.” That wasn’t the complete truth, but you figure he isn’t exactly ready for the truth just yet. 

After all, you did just meet. 

“Are you sure?” He presses. He isn’t buying it, and he’s completely right not to. 

You sniffle and stir a bit under the covers. “I think so,” You lie again. You weren’t sure at all, and you certainly weren’t ‘alright’ in any capacity. 

Mando sighs heavily through his modulator. “Do you want to talk about it, cyar’ika?” 

You were shocked at how kind he was being. He could be so tough, so cold to his bounties. “What’s that mean, cyar’ika?” You question, trying your best to change the direction of the conversation. 

“That’s not what’s important right now,” Mando says, dismissing your question entirely. 

You smirk, attempting to convince him that you’re okay. “I’m fine, I mean it.” 

Mando nods once and begins to slip out of the bunk. But as he leaves, you begin to regret telling him you were fine. His proximity to you had made the pain go away, just for a moment. Now you were back to being anxious and cold. Genuinely, you were freezing. You must be in deep space by now. You were more than positive that you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep like this. 

You groan, embarrassed to call him back just as you had kicked him out. “Mando,” You call out. He’s back within seconds. “Can you…” You trail off, trying to find the right words. “Would you…” It’s impossible. 

“I’ll stay with you.” 

It’s like he can read your mind. 

He strips off his armor, save his helmet, and slips in next to you. He brushes up against you for just a second, and practically pulls away instantly. 

“Maker, you’re freezing,” He says. Suddenly, you feel his arm slowly wrap around your waist, hesitantly pulling you tightly against his chest. “Is this alright?” He asks. You’re too stunned to speak, so you simply hum a yes. 

After a few minutes of lying like that, with your back up against his chest, you begin to feel better. Still, you can’t help but feel guilty, like you’re a burden to him, like this is something he has to do. You’re supposed to be powerful. You were a Jedi, a Sith, and yet a Mandalorian is being forced to take care of you. 

“You don’t have to stay, you know. You can go back to the cockpit if you-,”

But he cuts you off. “I told you I would stay.” And so, he did.

Two weeks, You think to yourself. Two weeks.

And then you drifted off to sleep, without nightmares, without visions.

Just like yesterday

I told you I would stay

Would you always?

Maybe sometimes?

Make it easy?

Take your time

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian #din djarin x reader smut #din djarin x jedi!reader #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x female!reader #din djarin x oc #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin imagine #mando x reader #mando x reader smut #mando x fem!reader #mando x female!reader #mando x oc #mandalorian x reader smut #Star Wars fanfiction #din djarin smut #mando smut #din djarin x reader fluff #din djarin one bed #mandalorian one bed #one bed trope #din djarin friends to lover #mando fanfiction #mando imagine #mandalorian fanfiction

[prolix-yuy]

Series

I Think of You: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Oneshots

Possession: Din Djarin x F!Reader x Cobb Vanth

Legacy: Din Djarin x Original F!Character

Beautiful Release: Din Djarin x F!Reader (written as part of PMAMC 2024)

Playlists

I Think of You on Spotify

#series masterlist #fanfic masterlist #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x fem!reader #mando x fem!reader #mando x f!reader #mando x female reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #i think of you series #prolix fics

[lahooozaherr]

I Will Always Find You

Chapter 4

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: angst, fluff, yearning, pining, shooting a blaster with Mando (aaaaaay) vague description of dress on reader (listen, I said it was “traditional Naboo” dress but I don’t know if such thing exists I just love that dress Padme wears by the lake lol but I’m leaving it as vague as I can incase y’all want to imagine something else, I only describe having an open back) (wanted to give Mando some skin, ok), reader runs hand through hair and has strand brushed away but no actual description of hair, Din tries to not have sexy thoughts lol

MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI. AGELESS/BLANK ACCOUNTS WILL BE BLOCKED.

My tag list (instructions & requirements)

Summary: You and the Mandalorian spend part of your “hooky” day relaxing in a place special to you. Later, he helps you get ready for the festival. Both of you are full of conflicting emotions as realizations surface and the end of the week looms.

A/N: Welp, this is getting done later than I intended. I recently visited my grandpa who is in the dying process. I had a good weekend with him and my family and tbh I thought I would be writing/reading in my spare time then but it didn’t end up happening, but that’s ok! I was able to come up with more things I wanted to add to it before so I hope everyone enjoys it. I promise we’re getting close to the smut lol I just have story building I gotta do. Also, I realized I already messed up the timeline I was trying to work with so look forward to me fixing that when it becomes more relevant. And by timeline I mean, it def takes more than a week between this and the flashback opening of the first chapter, so I’ll edit that. I’ve also been doing my best to leave reader and some other things as vague as I can but if that starts to sound weird pls tell me, I just want anyone reading to be able to see themselves in this. I also fixed the series master list banner since I kept have nagging feelings about the pictures I originally chose lol.

Song Inspo: Unfair by The Neighborhood

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Masterlist

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Din only really has himself to blame for getting himself in this position, he tells himself.

He was almost immediately mesmerized by you, and he let his heart and not his mind take the reins. That was mistake number one.

He went from experiencing loss, trying (and failing) to cope with that grief, to here. With you. He knows he has to face his feelings, because meeting you has flipped his inner world upside down. 

Every night he leaves you, images of you replay at the forefront of his mind’s eye. At first he’d brushed it off, chalking this up to some playful banter with a bored princess. But then he entertained it, learned more about you, watched you, and found himself enchanted by you. 

Somehow you had made your way through the cracks of his armor. Not exactly his Beskar, but the one he built around his heart. 

He hasn’t slept much tonight, opting to use this time to reflect and at least try to gather himself. He can no longer ignore what you do to him. How the sound of your voice has become music to his ears. How your touch sends electricity throughout his body from your delicate squeezes in the spaces of his arm that are not covered in Beskar. The way your eyes almost always find his own, despite the helm covering.

When he saw you help that lost child, when you opened up to him about your own mourning and conflicted emotions about your position, he almost snapped. Something possessive, or maybe more so protective, wanted to wrap himself around you. Prevent you from having to do this anymore. He could tell you didn’t want this. Maybe you wouldn’t say it, and he couldn’t out loud, but he could feel it.

He doesn’t know what to do with his own life and hasn’t for a really long time. Now, he’s coming to terms with his feelings, and desire, for you. 

But the life he leads isn’t a life for you. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself. This life is dangerous…..and lonely. He knows he couldn’t ask you to become his just as much as you can’t, or won’t, abandon your position. It’s easier to accept that answer over the latter.

He’s let this go too far, but he can’t help it. You bring something out in him that he tried to forget he had. It’s like he simultaneously knows he can’t make you his, and that’s he’s too scared to. Which is saying a lot; a Mandalorian afraid? But not just over anything. Over experiencing that kind of love and then losing it. He can’t go through that, on top of the rest, it’s too much. 

Yet Din ignores his instincts and indulges in you. He wishes your affectionate glances were reserved for only him, and no one else. 

Catching you yesterday was almost the final straw, taking every fiber of his being to not rip away the garment bag that separated your bodies. His helmet picked up on the wild thrum of your heartbeat; and maybe he wasn’t certain how you felt but it had to mean something, right? Even if neither of you can say it. 

For now, he will force himself to settle for what he has with you until this job is done. 

—————————————————————————

“Mando?”

Din is wrenched out of his head, coming back to himself. Both of you are on a small boat steered by a droid, him across from you. He must have been lost in his thoughts on the short sail to the area you spoke of. 

You wave a hand across his helmet’s eye-line, “hey, are you in there?”

He cocks his helmet, turning back to you, “where else would I be?”

You let out an amused huff but your eyes search his helmet, concerned but observing. Returning your hand back to your lap, “is something wrong?”

“No, Cyare.”

Your face heats up, looking away quickly thinking he wouldn’t notice. It brings him instant satisfaction, the way he flusters you sometimes. The boat comes to a stop as you stand to gather the basket you brought with you. 

“One of these days, I’m going to find out what those names mean.”

Din carefully stands in the boat, stepping over the side to the dock as it approaches, “you can sure try.”

Although, the thought of you finding out has Din’s face heated, another moment to be thankful for the helmet. 

He steps up onto the dock, connected to the other side of the lake you departed from. An expansive field full of greenery and flowers, surrounded by a forest in the short distance. It was tranquil and private, just like you had described to him. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” You remark, maneuvering your way out of the boat until his hand drops in front of you, offering help. You stop first, looking up to him to smile before taking it. His strong arm helps lift you out of the boat, effortlessly.

“I would come here to just be alone,” you continued on as you adjusted the basket and yourself. You decided on wearing a simple set of a tunic and leggings for this portion of the day, saying you’ll change later. The combination hugged your body’s curves in a way the dresses didn’t and Din certainly didn’t mind. 

He mentally scolds himself for wandering towards such thoughts. 

He follows you as you trek through the field, heading deeper towards trees that provide shade. Picking a spot, you drop the basket and plop down next to it. Sighing and stretching your legs before settling to lean against a tree, you close your eyes and inhale. Din lowers into the spot next to you, facing the view. 

Several quiet moments pass before you speak up again, “my mother found this place.” This caused Din to look at you, waiting for you to say more. You look into the sky, tightening your lips, not quite smiling and not frowning either.  

“It means a lot to you,” Din states. At this point he could tell how sentimental certain things were to you, he has very few things like that for himself. 

“It’s special to me, there’s a lot of good memories here. Time spent with her, many books….the first place I learned how to shoot a blaster.”

Din snorts before he realizes he’s even done it, you smile, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“You? You can shoot a blaster?” He teases, emphasizing the first ‘you’.

“Are you underestimating me, Mandalorian?” Batting your lashes at Din. He can hear his heartbeat in his helmet while trying to conjure an image of you, aiming a blaster in hand.

“No….” He trails off. Your eyes trained on him with a determined expression. “I just don’t expect a princess to know how to shoot.”

“Well Mando, it looks like there’s even more for you to discover about me.”

“Alright, prove it,” he shifts to stand. He offers his hand again and you take it, firmly. When you completely stand, you're closer than he had originally intended and he can feel the tense air between you. He brushes a thumb across your knuckles before letting go. 

You give him a sly grin while motioning your hand towards him, “alright, hand it over.”

“Hold on, let’s find a better spot.”

The two of you don’t stray too far, walking into the small forest behind the tree you were previously leaned up against. Din stops and points to a different tree just a few feet away, “hit the middle of that one.”

Usually, Din wouldn’t be so keen as to just hand anyone his weapons. But, you weren’t just anyone, were you? He sets the blaster in your hand, switching off the safety. 

“Thank you,” you mutter, situating the blaster in your dominant hand, with the other coming up to steady it. 

Raising your shoulders, you assume your stance and level the blaster for aiming. He watches from behind, arms folded and observant. So far he could say you’re doing everything you’re supposed to and is already impressed, not that that shows. 

Taking a deep breath through your mouth and out your nose, your supporting hand drops and your finger twitches on the trigger. In a split second, the blaster fire perfectly hits the middle of the tree. Lowering the blaster, you let out a “Hah!” You puff your chest with pride, looking back at Din for his reaction. 

If Din didn't think he was in trouble before, he definitely is now. He hadn’t realized just how attracted he would be to a trait like that in YOU, and suddenly the armor is too hot for him.

He almost can’t bring himself to say anything in response, it feels like his heart jumped into his throat. A self-satisfied look on your face as you set your other hand on your hip, “you seem…speechless? Hard to tell.”

You were right, and that was saying a lot for Din, considering he’s not much with words to begin with. He quietly clears his throat and reaches to take the blaster from your outstretched arm, “Count me impressed.”

You beamed, but this time it’s shy as you try to look away from him as he takes the blaster. He’d tell you that was cute if that wasn’t so out-of-character for him. 

“What made you take this up?” Din asks as you return to your spot on the grass. 

“Father said ‘pick a form of self defense’ and that was my choice,” you mimic your father’s voice and shrug. “I just happened to hit it off with blasters, and now I prefer them.” 

“But have you ever actually had to use one?”

“No. I guess, fortunately?”

A silence falls, you fidget with your hands as he settles next to you, once again. 

“I know that part isn’t impressive,” you add, dejectedly.

“It’s not bad. I’m glad you haven’t had to yet,” Din then turns his head towards you. “Any more surprises?”

Your lips curl at the edges, biting your lip and stifling a giggle, “for now.” You wink at him and turn to dig through the basket you brought with, setting out various fruits. 

Din’s eyes focus on the food but says nothing. 

“Don’t worry,” you assure him, while taking a bite out of one you’d chosen. “It’s just in case you want it. I felt rude not at least trying, I can give you privacy if needed.”

Din mulls the thought in his head for minutes, considering the setting. He feels a twinge in his stomach, anxiety coming up as he shoves it back down. He’s grateful for how understanding you are when it comes to his boundaries. He hasn’t been given a lot of that when it comes to his helmet and his creed. The galaxy so far has insistently been against him when it comes to those. 

“I appreciate it,” he says. 

—————————————————————————

You choose for today, and just today, you’ll pretend. Pretend your obligations don’t exist, that you’re not a princess. That you’re just you, someone capable of being so much more than what she’s just been slated in life. Capable of being more with Mando. 

That’s when the realization finally sets in, just how deeply you’ve found yourself in love with him. You realize it’s only been several days since you’ve met him, you haven’t even seen his face! But that didn’t matter to you, you have never felt so drawn to and comfortable with someone before in your life. 

You also can’t say you didn’t let it happen, and it’s tragic almost. It didn’t help that the two of you had almost immediately fell into a rhythm together. Two stars in sync with each other’s gravitational pull, becoming a careful dance.

You can’t be with him, and he can’t be with you. But that’s assuming he feels the same way, and that you’re not really sure of. It might be better to not know. You can’t abandon your life, and he shouldn’t have to worry about you.

It hurts immensely. 

“Here, I’ll do this,” you say, shifting your body to sit back to back with him. “I can’t see you this way, and I won’t look.” 

Mando says nothing at first, visor trained on the spread you’d set out. His lack of response causes you to feel insecure. 

“I’m sorry, maybe that’s too much-“

“No. You’re fine. It works.”

You give him a small nod before turning back to face away from him. You focus your eyes on anything else; trees, hills, the sky. You hear a hiss escape from where you feel him shift to lift his helmet and your heart stops. How would it be to see that face? But you would never betray that trust he’s just displayed. 

Mando doesn’t completely remove the helmet, just lifting it enough to take bites of the fruit you’ve laid out. Fair enough, though. Whatever works for him and makes him feel most comfortable is more important to you. 

Moment’s of peaceful silence pass as you take in the sounds and scenery around you while partaking in some of the fruit you snagged. Beautiful, lush green forest and fields, a clear and beautiful sky, the silent chewing from your armored companion. You wish you could live in this moment forever.

Reality finds ways to drift back into your thoughts though, always somewhat present and hard to escape. You let out a quiet sigh, leaning your back against his. You feel him tense up, subtly. But before you can think twice about it, he relaxes back into it, giving you a small amount of physical contact. You’re relieved he allows you this.

‘I’m glad we did this,” you break the silence. “I needed a break, as brief as it may be.”

“Thank you for including me,” he says in his unfiltered voice, helmet still lifted. Your heart in your chest speeds up from hearing it. As much as you love his voice with the modulator, the actual, naked sound is music to your ears. His voice is still low but with a rich timbre. 

Worrying your bottom lip, you lean your head back onto his shoulder. He allows for that as well, maybe indulging you. It’s comforting, but also sad. 

“There’s a chance I could not become a senator, like my father.”

Mando stills, “Is that so?”

“Sort of,” you begin to explain. “We still have democratic elections. There’s a possibility of me not being elected.”

Mando gives a low hum, “What would you do then?”

A million ideas including him run through your mind at that question, but you don’t say. “Technically I’d still be serving in some capacity, it’s how our family has always worked.” Part of you had hoped he'd have something to offer, more to say to that.

It’s quiet again, this time more somber. You’d been thinking about this detail for a while, and it still felt like no way out, and you feel ashamed for even trying to look for one. Mando doesn’t respond yet, replacing his helmet to its normal position. 

You sit up and turn back to him, looking into his visor. Helmet already trained on you. 

“Thank you,” he all but whispers, barely picked up by the modulator. You give him a gentle smile in response, “Of course.”

After the afternoon had worn on some more, and some comfortable quiet moments had passed as the two of you relaxed together, you signaled it was time to go. 

Your heart tightens in your chest at the thought of every minute passing, becoming less and less time with him. You’ve tried hard to not focus on that, nor show that emotion. You want to enjoy the time you have left.

—————————————————————————

You and Din return to your suite at the palace, stopping just before the door. He assumes his regular place in front, waiting to watch you disappear inside for the time being. 

But you don’t go inside, you stop just at the threshold. You stop in your tracks, seemingly contemplating something. You turn back to him, avoiding his gaze but also not as you start to run a hand through your hair. 

“You can come in to wait for me…..if you want.” 

It’s silent again, but tense. Din can feel his heart in his throat now, mouth dry as he tries to swallow it back down. His resolve crumbles enough for him to step forward, towards you. In his usual fashion, saying nothing, he strides past you into your living space. You step to the side to allow him in and he nods to you on the way. 

Upon entering your temporary living space, he takes in the details of proof that you’ve been there. One side of the room is a luxurious, wide bed with accompanying side tables, a couch sits at the end of the bed. Across the room from there is a table with books, a rack of clothing, a vanity and dressing screen for your privacy. 

“The couch is probably the most comfortable,” you mention as you saunter past him. “Make yourself at home.”

Din does so, looking out-of-place as he cautiously sits in the middle of the soft couch. Posture straight and gaited, he looks as stiff as he feels. He is painfully aware of the effect of the whole situation on the inside of his flight suit. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable, he just never expected to be in such a private setting with you.

It’s been too long since he’s felt this kind of need and genuine desire, and that also scares him. He feels like a doomed man, mentally cursing to himself that if only you had met under different circumstances. 

You press a button on a panel on the wall near the dressing screen and all lighting in the room fades to a softer, yellow hue. You step behind the screen, bending to start removing your shoes. 

Din has to suppress the almost audible gulping sound that leaves him when he realizes he can see your silhouette through the dressing screen. He doesn’t know if you know he can see you like this and is too stunned to even say. 

“I’m happy we happen to be here right as this festival is happening,” you state. “I haven’t been to it since I was a teenager.”

He watches your shadow begin to undress, slowly peeling off your layers one by one until you’re in your underwear. Your hands move to undo the clasp on your chest band, causing an audible ‘snap’ noise. You move sideways, emphasizing a perfect outline of your front and back. He imagines your breasts must be as soft and enticing from their outline in the shadow. 

He feels a twitch in his flight suit pants then immediately seeks to contain that by resting his ankle on his knee, bouncing it repetitively to keep himself ‘busy’. He almost jumps out of his skin as you walk to the edge of the screen, only to stop just before the end and reach your hand and naked arm to the rack where the garment bag you picked up yesterday hung, plucking it.

It’s certainly not out of place for him to have nothing to say, because at the moment he can’t even muster a word. He’s way too distracted now and hopes you’re not looking for a response.

You maneuver yourself into the dress, swaying your hips side to side to slide the fabric over your body. Din unconsciously flexes his hands, imagining how those hips would feel beneath them. 

When you finish fitting the dress onto yourself, you emerge from behind the screen. When you notice him, your expression is curious and he fears he’s been caught until you ask, “are you ok?”

Din crosses his arms and stands abruptly, guarding the subtle expressions of his body language as much as he can. Give offers a curt, “Yes.” He immediately notices how flattering the dress is on you, laying perfectly with your back being the most exposed. 

You narrow your eyes at him briefly and turn to seat yourself at your vanity. Din takes the opportunity to roam the small space, observing the table of books and reading material from the event that had been unceremoniously placed there. 

You adjust yourself in the mirror of your vanity, fixing your hair. You look back at yourself with a determined look, twisting your arms to place your hair where you need it. Din watches your meticulous routine from behind, eyes flitting between your actions and yourself in the mirror. You can see him in the reflection as you work. 

“It won't be too long, but it’s a process,” you murmur, moving to grab various pieces of makeup to apply. 

Din can barely manage to offer any words as he imagines what it would be like to casually approach you, placing reverent kisses on the back of your neck and shoulders. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he finally says. 

You shoot him a questioning look where you see him in the reflection of the mirror, “are you sure you’re alright?”

Din forces himself to visibly relax, it’s uncanny how well you’ve been able to pick up on his mannerisms since you’ve met, “everything is good with me.” He feels like he sounds unconvincing and your lingering eyes in the mirror don’t help. You shrug and return to your tasks.

That companionable silence has returned as Din watches you apply your makeup, you mutter to yourself absentmindedly here and there as you move to each next piece. Some time passes before you set down your items and pat your lap, giving yourself a last look over in the mirror before standing. 

The way you look takes his breath away. He was almost shocked when he first saw how casual you’d chosen to be today but loved it all the same. He loved seeing another side of you and right now is no exception either. He felt domestic just from being allowed to watch you put yourself together. 

He wants to take you apart. 

—————————————————————————

“Well?” You query Mando as you turn side to side to get a good look over yourself in the mirror. “Do I look alright?”

He’s paused then steps closer behind you, looming over your shoulder at your reflection, you look at him. You feel your heart rate quicken under what feels like his eyes raking over you. It takes everything in you to resist the urge to turn into him and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Beautiful,” he offers the one-worded response, but that's all that needs to be said. 

You turn to him, smiling, staving off a heat that threatens to take over your cheeks, “thank you.” He cocks his helm to the side in response. 

You stride past him, noticing his helmet visibly follow. You sway your hips ever so slightly as his visor scans you up and down. Getting closer to your door, you look back and flash him a grin and gesture with a nod, “I saw that.”

“No you didn’t,” he throws back at you, sarcastically. You snicker in response, “Come on, shiny man.”

Mando stalks towards you and stifles a chuckle, “I get a nickname too?”

“I tried, not sure how I feel about that one.”

“Not as fun as mine, mesh’la.”

—————————————————————————

The festival is bustling, vendors sell their wares and trinkets while others offer delicious and exotic street foods. There are large displays of flowers and accompanying decorations across the town and performers scattered entertaining the masses. 

You point out these things to Mando as you stroll through, your hand back in its place in the crook of his elbow. He doesn’t have much to say but you know he’s invested in your excitement and what you say. 

Here and there you'd explain the meaning behind certain displays and performances to educate him. You figure you can do the same for him as he’s done for you when he’d allowed you to poke at him about Mandalorian customs. You’d share similar traditions from your own planet and how they coincide with each other. 

You tried your best to be in the present and stop worrying about tomorrow, when you’ll inevitably have to say goodbye to the Mandalorian. You’re going to miss the camaraderie the two of you had unknowingly built together in the short amount of days. You’ve never found someone so in sync with you. 

Regardless if he has similar feelings, it’s heartbreaking all the same. It’s too scary at this point to ask. If you’ve learned anything about him this past week, it’s that his actions speak louder than his words. Although it seems he reserves many of those words and actions just for you. A self-indulgent thought you keep tucked in your heart. 

Day slowly turns into night, the sun giving way to a beautiful, pink setting in the sky. You finish up a snack you’d bought earlier as you nod at Mando, “fireworks should be soon, we should find a good spot.”

“Fireworks, huh? They really go all-out here.”

“It’s Naboo,” you laugh. “What do you expect?” 

“Do you have a spot for that too?”

You scoff in response, “of course I do.”

And that you did. It’s a bold move, but you offer him your hand, “follow me.” He takes your smaller hand in his gloved one, and it feels warm. Safe. 

You lead him along, navigating through other festival-goers until you find yourself in front of part of the forest that lines the city. He doesn’t question it though, and you bring yourselves to a small path in. When you’ve arrived, you’re at a small clearing on the side of the larger lake the show will display over. 

“I never doubted you,” he proclaims. You feel like you can ‘hear’ a smile in his tone. You turn your nose up with a ‘hmm!’. You hear a faint chuckle that barely escapes his helmet’s modulator. 

The sun is finally set, giving way to a beautiful, clear night sky. You take in a deep breath of air and admire it, smiling to yourself. You look down and notice he’s still holding your hand. You don’t say anything or move it, for fear of ending the small contact. He doesn’t try to break it up either. 

One by one, lights lift into the sky and explode. The fireworks are bright and loud and your spot is the perfect and more private place to view them. You instantly become entranced in them, their reflections flash in your eyes.

You suddenly feel a familiar shift in energy, one that you’ve been feeling all week. From the times you feel his eyes on you for long periods of time. Sometimes even when his helmet isn’t exactly pointed towards you. A feeling almost hard to explain, you just know. But you don’t turn to face him just yet, preening under what feels like his warm gaze, while you can. These last few moments are difficult to approach, no matter how hard you shove back the emotions.  

What will it be like after tomorrow? Will you feel a hole in your chest? A part of your heart that knows and wishes to know him that will forever be empty? Will you always spend the rest of your life asking “what if”?

You finally turn to him and he does the same. But there are no words. You’re both silent, save for the sounds of fireworks in the background. You look into his visor and admire the reflection of the bright, colorful explosions that play out on his helmet. It’s beautiful. 

A tension builds between you, again. But what could be said? It’s too painful to say out loud. You’ll have to speak through your actions, just as he does. 

You slowly lift the hand you’re still holding, cautiously bringing it to place over your chest where your heart pounds. You fear it might be too much when his hand stills, but then relaxes in place underneath yours. You just want him to feel your heartbeat, and he acquiesces. 

But he surprises you again, after a moment passes, holding his hand over your heart. He brings his other hand up to remove his glove, carefully plucking from his fore and middle finger, sliding it off then placing it in his pocket. 

With his now bare hand, he gently tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. Instead of bringing his hand back, he caresses the side of your face. You can feel him hesitate at first, hovering slightly above your cheek, seeking silent permission. You oblige by nuzzling into his palm, relishing the feeling of his bare skin on yours.

The setting is calm but the storm in your chest is otherwise and you wish you could remain like this. Tomorrow is coming too soon, it’s too much. But you know, and he knows. 

When the show ends, the two of you remain that way for a short while after. You can’t bring yourself to end it any sooner but after some time, you decide to rip off the bandaid. When you slightly move from his hand, he returns it to himself but without putting the glove back on. 

When you return to your room, after a solemn and quiet walk back, you swear you can still feel the warmth of his skin on yours. It’s all he can give right now and you’ll hold it dear to you. 

—————————————————————————

Settling down for the night, you walk around the room to fade the lights back to the yellow hue. You sit on the couch as you read the last of a book you’ve had your nose in for the last hour. You glance up, down, then quickly back up again when you notice the silhouetted shape of something from behind your dressing screen. 

Hurriedly putting the book down, you set for the screen to investigate. Behind it is the pile of clothes and one of your suitcases that had made up the shape. You realize, to your mortification, that anything behind casts a shadow than can be seen.

That means. That earlier. That he could. He could see- Oh MAKER. 

Mando'a Translated:

Mesh'la = Beautiful

Cyare = Sweetheart

@dindjarinsmut @impala1967666 @kittenlittle24 @angel-with-a-heart @leithatnight @i-usually-main-bards-tho @dins-riduur-anthe @fatima-marisa @lalalalemonade11 @n7cje

Next Chapter

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x fem!reader #bodyguard!Din x Princess!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #mando x you #mando x reader #mando x fem!reader #din djarin x female reader #mando x female reader

[sirowsky]

A Little Menace

I recently had some trouble with the neighbors, and of course, my good friend @deadhumourist managed to turn it into an idea for a story. So, here's a lil thing based on her idea.

Rating: Mature Warnings: Includes ornithophobia (fear of birds), cursing, improper thoughts, modern!din, din djarin x female reader, Grogu is a human boy here. Word Count: 2080 Author’s Masterlist

Link to Part 2 Link to Part 3 Link to Part 4 Link to Part 5

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   He’s just a kid, he doesn’t know any better…    That’s what you keep telling yourself as you throw some clothes on to run outside and stop your next-door neighbour’s kid from breaking your birdfeeder.

   The thing is, this isn’t the first time he’s been messing with it, nor will it be the first time you talk to him about it, and he’s always apologetic once you catch him, which makes you think that this is about getting attention.

   But you’re not his parent. It’s not your job to teach this kid how the world works and it’s not fair to him that he should have to endure getting repeatedly told off by a stranger, when you suspect that it's his dad’s attention he really wants.

   “You know your dad will have to pay for that if you break it, and it wasn’t cheap.”

   He flinches at the sound of your voice, spinning on his heels to look at you, and taking a few steps back, but he doesn’t run away.    Your apartment is on the ground floor, and your balcony door is just a few feet from the feeder, so by the time he’s registered the sound of it opening, you’re already close enough to grab him, should you need to.

   The thing is about the size of a large suitcase, cylindrical in shape and housing over fifty feeding-stations that varies in the types of seeds or other kinds of feeds that it can hold. Large nets for peanuts and Plexiglas containers for small grains, for example.    It’s mounted on a big metal pole that’s been driven six feet into the ground to anchor the whole thing, and at the base of it, a separate type of feeder accommodates the magpies and other larger birds, to keep them away from the little guys.

   “I’m trying to help the birds survive winter, why are you trying to hurt them?”

   It’s a pretty solid construction, so in truth, the kid would have to work really hard to actually break it, but that doesn’t mean he can’t still damage it. Plus, it scares the birds when he throws sticks or sometimes even rocks on it.    Today though, he’d tried to sneak up on some blackbirds sitting on the ground and feasting on dried mealworms, doing his best to kick them as they scrambled to get away. Thankfully, he’d missed them all, but it had seriously pissed you off.

   As always, he doesn’t answer you, but he does meet your eyes and you can see that he’s close to tears. Real ones. His body-language shows you shame and regret as clear as day, and you just can’t figure out what he’s trying to accomplish with all this.    You sigh and cross your arms over your waist. He’s not your kid to teach, but this has to stop, and if his dad isn’t gonna take care of it, then you’re just gonna have to.

   “I told you last time that if this ever happened again, I’d be marching you home and having a serious conversation with your father, and I keep my word, kid.    So, you can either come with me calmly, or I can drag you there, what’s it gonna be?”

   He looks worried, but after a moment’s deliberation, he slowly comes to your side and walks with you through first your balcony and then your apartment, out your front door where you immediately ring the bell of the apartment directly to your left.

   Despite living next to them for over two years now, you’ve never seen his father. You’ve heard him bustle about in the kitchen, and their bathroom is wall to wall with yours, so you hear it every time the bathtub is filled or drained. But you don’t actively listen to your neighbours, you just register the sounds that are loud enough to cut through your music or sounds of the tv.    Since you’re not the nosy type, you haven’t been running to look through the peephole whenever you’ve heard the door open, but he comes and goes like any regular person so if you had, you would’ve seen him.

   The door opens, and you automatically begin to explain why you’re standing there with his son, in the hopes that he won’t get angry with you.

   “Hi, Mr. Djarin, I’m sorry but your son-…” you trail off when your gaze connects with a pair of deep brown and slightly sad-looking eyes that are studying you closely, in between glances at the boy.

   “What did he do?” he asks, his voice soft and low, and somehow making you feel like you wanna purr.

   “Uh…” you’ve almost forgotten your reason for bothering him. “He was being mean to the birds in my yard. I would’ve let it go if it was the first time, but he’s thrown things on my feeding station and nearly damaged it a few times too.”

   He sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose, before sinking to one knee and beckoning the kid closer.

   “Grogu, I’ve told you so many times now… the birds aren’t dangerous. If you leave them alone, they’ll just eat and leave.” he tries to remind his son, and you idly wonder if you’ve ever heard a name like that before.    But the kid doesn’t answer, so Mr. Djarin looks back up at you.

   “He’s afraid of birds. The smaller ones are more skittish, so he can ignore them because he knows that they mostly keep their distance. But the crows and magpies and the bigger ones are bolder, and they frighten him.” he explains calmly, with a very apologetic undertone.

   You’re struggling to pay attention, though, because he’s kneeling just two feet in front of you, looking up at you with puppy-dog eyes and you can’t help but wonder what he’d look like buried between your legs.    If you’d known that he was this fucking beautiful you would’ve been glued to that peephole every time you heard him at the door.

   “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” you try to sound diplomatic, but you’re not sure what to do about the situation.

   One the one hand, it makes sense that he would be so aggressive towards the larger birds if he was hoping to scare them away for good, and that he’d be inclined to destroy the feeder to try and keep them from coming back.    But on the other hand, his actions are still not acceptable and no matter what he feels, he isn’t entitled to destroy people’s property.

   “I’ll pay for any damage he’s caused, of course.” he offers, and a streak of compassion stings your chest.

   He’s a single father, doing his best, clearly exhausted and unsure of how to ‘dad’ correctly sometimes, and you simply can’t be upset with either of them anymore.

   “Well, actually the feeder is homemade, so it would be hard to put a value on it. But he hasn’t broken anything yet, and I think I might have an idea on how to keep it that way.”

   The idea came to you as you were speaking, so you take a beat to try and piece it together in your own head, before you try to explain it.

   “What if Grogu spends some time with me and the birds every day from now on?” you offer, kneeling on the kid’s other side so you can talk directly to him. “We can start by just watching them from the balcony with the windows closed, and I can tell you all about them so that maybe you can understand them a little better.”

   He’s just staring at the floor, refusing to look at either of you, but you genuinely want to help him, now that you know what this is about, so you try again.

   “Sometimes things are less scary when you understand them better. Like, how big dogs can seem scary but when you know how to make them happy, they’ll get all goofy and cuddly.    Or like how spiders can feel really creepy when they’re crawling on your skin, but when they’re just sitting in their web in a corner somewhere, they’re actually saving you from flies and mosquitos and other bugs.”

   That earns you a curious look as he lifts his head to meet your eyes, so you try your luck with one more attempt to win him over.

   “If you promise to work with me on this, I promise that you can help me build that huge LEGO Millennium Falcon, I saw you eyeing in my living room. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.” you say, and he perks right up, shooting you a bright smile and nodding enthusiastically, so you turn back to his father.

   “If that’s okay with you, of course.”

   “Yeah, absolutely.” he grins at you, and something warm and pleasant pools in your stomach at the brightness of his eyes.

   “Great! I work from home, so just bring him over whenever it suits you.” you say, while pushing yourself up to standing again, and he mirrors the motion.

   “This is really so kind of you, thank you.” he offers, and you just shrug.

   “I’d rather help than hurt him. He seems like a good kid.”

   Grogu tugs on his father’s pantleg then, and points into the hallway of their apartment. His dad just nods, and the kid runs inside, disappearing around a corner.

   “Does he not speak?” you ask.

   “Not much around strangers, and a lot less than other kids overall. But he seems to know the language pretty much fluently and I’ve taken him to doctors and specialists and no one can find anything wrong with him.    It’s like he’s just more comfortable not speaking, for some reason.” he explains, and you find yourself listening closely and studying every feature of his voice and how his expressions shift only in the most subtle ways.

   “Well, I’m looking forward to getting to know him… both of you, better.” you say, before you start backing towards your own door.

   A small smile creeps into his eyes at that. Something tender and almost bashful, and you suddenly want nothing more than to rest your palm against his cheek, to see if he’d lean into your touch.    You braid your fingers together behind your own back to keep them in check. The last thing you wanna do is scare this gorgeous man away.

   “Um, I’m a carpenter and I work daytime, so I’ll bring him over tomorrow after dinner, if that’s okay?” he says, and his voice is low and unsure. You wonder if he’s unaccustomed to attention, or just finds it generally difficult to know how to respond to it.

   “That’s fine.” you say, as you reach your door and stop, still facing him. “And, just so you know, I’m happy to help if there’s anything else you need. Like I said, I work from home so I’m always around.”

   “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” his smile widens a little, before he turns to head back inside, but then stops on the threshold. “My name is Din.”

   You smile back and give him your name in return, and he nods and repeats it, memorizing it, making your skin prickle at the sound of it on his tongue, as you’re suddenly picturing him saying it under very different circumstances.    That thought alone makes you feel hot and uncomfortable, and you quickly dip your head forwards to keep him from noticing, before turning around to head back into your home.

   “See you tomorrow then, Din.” you croak with your back to him, your voice now hoarse with embarrassment.

   “I look forward to it.” he says, just before closing his own door behind him, and you stop dead on your threshold, turning back to stare at his door because his tone caught you completely off guard.

   He’d sounded… alluring. And now you’re wondering if perhaps he finds you just as attractive as you find him. If perhaps the prospect of his son not becoming a menace wasn’t the only reason that he looked forward to seeing you again.    You step back and close your door, turning to lean against the nearest wall while you try to stop your heart from bouncing around between your lungs.    How have you never known that such a gem of a guy has been living next door all this time?

   And suddenly you find yourself feeling quite happy that the kid messed with your birdfeeder.

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Thank you for reading, and feel free to criticize, I'm always looking to learn and grow as a writer.

@deadhumourist @idreamofboobear @tanzthompson @winter-fox-queen @tiffanyleen @shsoba05 @toomanystoriessolittletime @nolanell @myfavpedrothings @harriedandharassed @bruxasolta @tintinn16 @pedrostories

#the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian oneshot #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x female reader #mando x fem!reader #modern!din #the mandalorian modern au #modern au #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[lady-phasma]

Impenetrable

Chapter 1 of 5 (cross posted from AO3)

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Dar'Nîla (Togruta OFC)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, general smut, p in v sex in later chapters, D/s if you squint, plot if you squint. Written in first person fem!reader.

Summary a/n: Mando and Dar'Nîla meet and she's quite brazen. Reference images for Dar'Nîla after the cut. I wrote this during season 2, around episode 5. No beta. 2k words.

This is my reference for Dar'Nîla from the video game The Old Republic.

I saw him walk into the cantina. I watched him over the top of my mug as he went to the bar. You couldn’t not watch him. The beskar he was wearing was so new it reflected everything near him.

What could a Mandalorian possibly get at a bar? I thought. Do they use straws? No, that’s too banal.

I couldn’t stop staring. I knew he could feel all of us watching. But how many of those eyes were trying to determine how difficult it would be to seduce him while assuring him you wanted his armor to stay on? Probably only mine.

I sat my drink down, placed my front lekku meticulously to frame my breasts, and shimmied my shirt down just a little. The thin, white fabric pulled tight across the rise of my breasts and my purple skin shone through bright and unmistakable. The leather vest rode just below like a corset. I wasn’t great at being feminine but I could give a good show. My shitty, practical boots and plain leather pants were about as unfeminine as it could get. The one asset the pants had was how they stretched tight against and accentuated my ass. I checked the room and saw I had no competition so I stood, smoothed my pants over my hips, and walked to his table.

“Hi,” was somehow the best I could manage. I was never this forward.

His head turned, deliberately slow. I was immediately aware of the advantage he had over me: he could see facial expressions that I only had to guess at. This was going to be tough.

“Yes?” he responded.

I slid into the chair across from him and propped my elbows on the table, my breasts on my arms. I was going to make this easy for him because that would make it easier for me. One lek fell in front of my carefully arranged display and I brushed it aside.

“Um, yeah, hi! I’m Dar’Nîla,” I managed.

“Hi.”

“You don’t say much do you?” I beamed at him. “I’ve heard about you. They call you Mando.” I flashed my blue eyes at him.

“Some do.”

“ Can I call you that?” I played with a crumb on the table that I found, suddenly, much more fascinating than the blank surface of his helmet.

“Sure. What’s on your mind… Dar….?” He trailed off.

“‘Nîla,” I finished for him.

“Dar’Nîla, right. What’s on your mind?” he asked again.

I stammered. I’m never great at flirting and usually better at it when I don’t have a clue that I’m actually doing it. He was just so unsettling, so disarming. He was no one. Only what I projected onto him until he spoke or moved. Those were the only glimpses allowed into his personality. How could I possibly find something to flirt about? It was like talking to my reflection.

I investigated the table, ran a finger around an old ring from a glass. This place was filthy. But my mouth had gone incredibly dry. I flagged a hand at a waitress and ordered another beer. I looked him in the eye.

“What’s on my mind is that I would very much like to have a beer with you, ahem, near you is more accurate I guess, get to know you a little better, and then try to get you in my pants since there’s very little chance I could get in yours.” I blurted all of this out at once so that he couldn’t interrupt me and so I wouldn’t lose my courage.

That was the best possible moment for my beer to arrive. I buried my face in it and looked up at him. His head was tilted just slightly. Curious? Maybe. Offended? He hadn’t run for the door. Yet.

“Well, Dar’Nîla, that was quite the speech. Did you have anything specific in mind?” he asked.

I could feel his eyes on me and hear the smirk on his lips. I don’t know if he’d had one or one hundred women but he definitely knew how to manipulate me. I gulped some more beer, mostly to give myself time to think of an appropriate answer.

“Ummmm we could sit here and talk, since you’re so chatty and all, or we could get me some dinner and make our way back to your place. Get to know you better along the way?” I looked into my beer as I said the last bit. I couldn’t look at him. I was able to say all that about pants a moment ago and now I only wanted to crawl under the table. He made me feel like he was pure and I was… was what? Unclean for having these thoughts. But I knew that wasn’t true from the way he moved. The way he stayed.

His movements were slow and deliberate. He stood and reached for my hand at the same time. His gloved fingers lifted mine and I followed. I dropped some credits on the table for the beer before we walked out.

The suns were setting. The street vendors’ food crackled over fires and the smells drifted and mingled around us. I was working hard at playing it cool. I was quite sure I was not succeeding. I made a lot of assumptions about him. I assumed he wouldn’t be eating. He probably ate alone. So I stopped at a food stall and swapped some credits for a meat on a stick. Not sure what it was exactly but the sizzling fat smelled delicious. We carnivores aren’t terribly picky eaters when we’re very hungry. I tore off a mouthful.

“So, do this often, do you?” I asked as I chewed and swallowed. I was so nervous around him that I forgot all of my manners. He completely disarmed me.

“No.”

Fuck, would I ever get more than one word out of this man? I licked sauce off of my finger and looked at my boots as we walked. When I looked up he was staring at me.

“Me either,” I said. “In fact, I don’t really talk to people I don’t know. I just… I don’t know, I thought I would risk it.”

I looked back at my feet and blushed. Hard. I could feel the heat rise from my neck, first deep violet then light pink as it hit my white cheeks. All the way up my montrals and down my lekku. Sheesh. This was embarrassing.

I felt him pause. I stopped a step ahead and turned back. He seemed to be searching for something, listening maybe. God it was so hard to tell with that helmet. He turned and looked past me.

“Here,” he said and he slid a hand around mine and started walking. I’m glad he had his back to me because my mouth hung open. I shook myself out of the shock and followed.

He gave a few credits to a man selling frozen, shaved juices. I stood, mutely, watching his movements. His head tilted just enough for me to imagine he was smiling. Maybe his helmet was more expressive than I thought. He handed me the shaved ice. The evening was hot even after the suns set. I wouldn’t have thought to get this treat for myself but since he was buying. Why not? Bounty hunters aren’t hard up for credits.

I stared at the cone of ice as if I had forgotten how to eat. I looked up at him questioningly.

“I would like to watch you eat it,” he said. It was flat with no inflection. I couldn’t object or give it back to him. I couldn’t tell him he was weird and to keep his stupid shaved juice. In fact, I wanted the opposite. My body tingled like I had touched a live wire. I wanted to perform for him. I looked directly at him and licked the sweet ice. The movements of his helmet were almost invisible but once I knew what to look for I began to see them more clearly. This one seemed to be focus, intensity, just the slightest forward tilt. I tasted it again. My face was on fire. I wanted to die from embarrassment. I could guess a million reasons he wanted this but none of them mattered.

There was nothing in the world at that moment but the two of us. The noise of the street around us faded away. I could see my distorted reflection in his helmet and that inspired me to take a longer lick from my ice. I closed my eyes, wiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. He took a step closer to me. This could not actually be happening to me. This was all a fantasy I created and I was still sitting in the cantina.

No. He walked closer and put a hand on the small of my back. He guided me toward an alley. He was touching me. I felt like I was shaking all over. We stopped a few feet into the alley. He took the cone from my hand and dropped it by my feet. I was frozen. What was happening? The Mandalorian actually wanted me? He wanted something. I wasn’t sure what but here we were.

He stepped toward me and I moved back so that I was pressed against the dusty wall. He put his hand on it beside my head. His body turned away from the street so that his cape hid me almost entirely. I exhaled. I had been holding my breath but in this small world he created for us I started to relax. To feel less embarrassed.

“Well?” he said. He was so cryptic. This air of mystery was almost overdone. Almost an act, yet… yet not.

“Well…” I replied. “I’m beginning to think this is all on your terms, so what would you like?”

He thought about this for a moment. His free hand started up and then fell back to his side. His helmet moved slightly. Then his hand was on my waist. Gentle but squeezing just a bit. I tried hard not to react but his grip was strong. I grazed my fingers over the vambrace on his forearm. His fingers tensed when I touched the metal. I traced a line up his arm and then down to his chest. Trying to read his mind was excruciating.

Slowly, letting him see the direction of each movement as it began, I placed one hand on his side and the other on the vambrace near my head. I felt the rough fabric of his shirt under my palm, the muscles underneath moving with his breath. I slid my hand around to the small of his back and pulled him closer. I pushed my hips out to meet his. I moaned through my teeth when I finally felt his body on mine.

The cuisses covering his thighs were hard against my legs. But that wasn’t all that was hard. I moved my hips just enough to feel that, yes, The Mandalorian was enjoying himself. I had read his mind well enough it seemed. I moved my hand down to his ass and pressed against him as much as either of us could stand.

He muttered something and abruptly grabbed my waist with both hands. He almost picked me up as he moved me away from him. He placed me at arms length with the concentration a child has with the placement of a doll. I think he really wanted to tell me to “stay put” or something like that. So, I crossed my arms across my chest, jutted one hip out, and pouted.

When he saw the look on my face he shook his head.

“My ship isn’t far from here,” he said.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x ofc #mando x togruta ofc #din djarin #din dijarin x oc #mando x oc #the mandolarian #mando fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #mando smut #din djarin smut #mando x f!reader #mando x fem!reader #din dijarin x reader

[moon-sang]

i love ur work so much and would love if you could write about mando and reader knowing each other from the past but he was mean to her and she was nice and them meeting once again but he’s nice to her this time and feels bad about the past.

hi! Thanks so much I’m glad you enjoy my writing 🙂, ofc I’ll do this request it’s so unique!!! ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~

Regret ~ Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: With you, is the last place Din, expects himself to be... especially after your rather...harsh past together. 

WARNINGS: Guilty!Din, Soft!Din, Angry!reader, angst, dehumanisation, past trauma (a little), mature language, fem!reader, Suicidal thoughts (nothing explicit), pls tell me if I miss anything. 

~~~~~~~~~~

As a man, Din Djarin, regretted a lot of things. They all found a place at the bottom of his stomach at night, when he so desperately tried to get some sleep. Whether that was freezing bounties that caused him no trouble, shooting an innocent person, or the time he sacrificed someone, to get out of a rather sticky situation, the list could go on forever. However... there was one particular regret that made his stomach churn. And that was what he did to you. 

The two of you were no older than 14. You had attended the same schooling he had, despite the fact he was a Mandalorian. He was rather..harsh on you. Harsh was an understatement. He was downright rude to you. The worst part about it was that the two of you had to sit next to each other in accordance to the teachers seating plan. 

He remembered when he dunked your head into a bucket of water, and held you down until you begged for air..... he remembered how he shoved you into your locker and hit you if you tried to scream, he remembered his pathetic little team who would encourage his violent behaviour, but most of all... he remembered the hurt on your face when he told you ‘you should quit drawing, because you’re horrible at it’. He knew very well drawing was how you escaped reality, and he watched how your heart shattered the moment he said that.. it was written all over your face. 

After graduation... he never saw you again. Maybe he thought of you every now and then, how you were so fond of pursuing a career in some sort of art... For your age you were pretty damn good at drawing, even Din had to admit. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering what art industry you worked in... Did you even remember him? Probably not, you probably purposefully forgotten about him by now...Din was pulled back to reality, and out of his thoughts, when something hits his chest. Din stumbled for a moment, but he made sure to make a quick recovery. Who in kriffing hell would bump into a Mandalorian? Din decides it was probably best to let go of the anger building in him, for the sake of his sanity, and whoever it was who bumped him. The person who had seemed to be the one who accidentally hit him was knocked to the floor, with a hand resting on their head, eyes squinted in pain. And DIn was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he was wearing BESKAR. Panic slowly rising in him he offers a hand to the woman. “You ok? Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was goi-” Din cuts himself off as the woman took his hand and stood. Lush h/c hair illuminated her features, a forest of e/c shades rested within the rounded orbs of her eyes. Her skin was plump and s/c coloured, the sun giving her the perfect luminance. Was it.... could it be....Y/n? 

Y/n looked just as surprised as he did under the helmet, but her shock was short lived, quickly replaced with her pupils dilating, her eyebrows creasing, and her face forming into a scowl. So she did remember him, and she was NOT happy to see him. “Well, watch where you’re going next time bucket head.” She snaps, before attempting to shove him out of her way, which only caused her to hit more beskar on his shoulder. She hissed silently (which didn’t go unnoticed by Din) and made her way grouchily around him. Before Din could process what he was about to do, his hand was shooting out and grabbing her wrist, not harshly, but firm enough to keep her still. Why did he do that? 

~~~~~~~~~~

Your head quickly whipped around, facing the all too familiar Mandalorian, you had grown to hate. “Let go of me! What’s your problem?!” You say through gritted teeth. “I-” Din starts. He didn’t even know what to say.... you were nothing like how he remembered you.... your sweetness was replaced with a harsh venom, your patience had run scarce... was that... all because of him? Instead of reminding you of the past, Din decides to try his best to hold up a normal conversation. “uh...How...How is your art going?” he tries to rid the strain in his voice, but he was sure you could hear it, even through the modulator. “Art?” you repeat, confusion replacing your once creased and angered face. “You... you liked drawing back at school..” Din awkwardly reminds you. “Oh... I don’t draw anymore.” you admit.. surprisingly honestly. “But why?! You were so good at it!” The words fell out of Din’s mouth before he could process them. “Really? Naw, I didn’t know that... especially after you said I should’ve quit drawing, because of how bad I was at it” You practically yell. You...You quit...drawing.... because of....what he said? He never wanted.... that. “I..” Din starts again. “I am sorry.” he sincerely apologises. You chuckle dryly at his apology. “Sorry doesn’t fix it. You put me through hell... You know... I stole your gun once, and pointed it to my chin, I would’ve pulled the trigger if one of your loser friends didn’t drag me out of the room, laughing at how pathetic I was.” You admit, slightly biting your gum. “let’s put my hate for you aside for a moment and ask the obvious question..... why me? Why did you have to bully me, every-day?” You exaggerate on the last bit. Din is silent for a moment, as you watch him through laser focused eyes. “I was young, and stupid, I wanted to assert dominance over someone after the covert took me in, because I wanted to feel better about myself... you were...an easy target.” Din honestly admits. “Why was I an easy target?” you question as tears began to blur your vision at the memory. Strangely, Din finds himself placing a hand on your shoulder as he chooses his words carefully. “Because you were kind... everyone knew you didn’t even know who your parents were, and how they abandoned you, even though you were blood related, yet... you were still kind, still cared for others, you were everything I wasn’t, even though you had a more traumatic backstory, and it killed me... so I took advantage of your kindness... and I really regret it.” 

It took you a moment to process everything he said. He was being sincere with you, you knew he was telling the truth... but.... Did you have the strength to forgive him? It turned out...you did. “Ok.” You reply, just above a whisper. Din cocks his head at you. “I forgive you, Mando.” you whisper, wiping a tear that managed to shed away. He must have expected you to march off or tell him to get lost because when you said you forgave him, his body seemed to jolt for a second. “I’m sorry... what?” he whispers. You slightly chuckle at his cluelessness. “I, Y/n L/n, forgive you, Mando.” You dramatically reply. Din slightly chuckles too, but... things seemed to go silent after that. 

So you broke it. 

“So... you uh...wanna go out for some coffee?”

#Mando x reader #Din Djarin x reader #Din x reader #The Mandalorian x reader #The Mandalorian #Angst #Fluff #The Mandalorian Fluff #The Mandalorian angst #fem!reader #Mando x fem!reader #Mando x y/n #Din Djarin x you #Mando x you #Din x you #The Mandalorian x you

[chaoticgeminate]

Blessing of Vision

Part of the Iridescence Fictional Universe Forest Affairs Series Pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader Rating: T Word Count: 2.4k Notes/Warnings: This takes place after a few chapters into the story of these two, the series as a whole is rated Explicit as there will be adult content.

Power danced through your veins, a storm of energy within your own body that was magnified by the light of the full moon, and you could feel the growing swell of it as you walked through the tree grove behind your cabin. Your feet were bare and the breeze was hardly noticeable, mostly because of your moonspun silk robes, and with each step closer to your altar the voice of the forest around you was growing louder. Every tree, every bush, every flower was responding to your heightened power. In your hands the beskar helmet was cradled reverently, it’s black T-visor like a void in the reflective metal catching the moonlight, and its bearer walked behind you at a sedated pace.

Din had been surprised initially, when you offered to modify and improve the spell work on his armor, so long ago when you’d both first survived the chaos that followed your initial meeting. He’d refused at the time due to distrust, nerves, and general caution to keep his Creed intact; that changed as the two of you learned just how deep the connection between you ran, and, it didn’t take long for his walls to come crashing down. A clan of three, he had told you in a soft and loving tone as he removed his helmet for the first time without your sight being obscured, and now he trusted you with more than his life.

He trusted you with his heart.

Under the glow of the moon your altar was majestic, the natural rock platform and its stacked stone slabs that formed a small table glowing under the silvery light, and the tree that was wrapped around the center most vertical stone was in full bloom to match the moon’s cycle. On the back of your neck you could feel the mark of the Huntress warming, blessing you with her presence and power, and you knew Din felt it too since his gloves creaked from how hard he balled his fists.

Ever since the Moon Goddess had chosen him to be yours, your Consort and your conduit, the power you radiated during the full moon would flow between the both of you. This bond had allowed him to take control of the Dark Saber, to conquer the ancient curse that had once held the blade of raw magic in its clutches, and with each day that he held the blade the malignant energy remaining in the soul of the blade was cleansed more and more. The bloody past of the blade, the scars left upon its inherent self, were healing in his hands.

There was still much to do, more threats working behind the scenes to try and break you both and destroy your Clan, but he had nearly the full support of his people and he had you.

You climbed up onto the raised stone table, sitting with your legs crossed as the skirt of your robes bundled around you hips, his helmet sitting in your lap in the center of your crossed legs, and you felt Din step up against your back. Lurking around the outside of the alter’s reach you could feel Wellyn patrolling, your Familiar was a protective and loving friend, the cat síth blended into the darkness as she continued to set up her own circle of protective magic. While your altar was on your land, which had wards of its own, you weren’t so arrogant as to assume intruders impossible.

“On this night, the Huntress clear and watching from above, I bestow upon you a Blessing of Vision my Consort; to ensure that you will always return to me after a hunt, that we both may continue to serve the Goddess until She deems it time to call us to her arms.” Din looked up from your lap at the sound of footsteps in the brush, hands raising to cover your breasts since the fabric was sheer enough that the sage green glow of your magic made them visible in the dark.

Your protector -Koska- nodded once in greeting but you were already focused on your spell, no fancy words but it was a complex thing to do when the target object was beskar. The metal was known because no magic spells could pierce it, turned into armor since even a little coverage could stop even the most advanced of spell casters from doing severe damage to their target, and in the case of the Forest Hunter Sidhe -the Mandalorians- they had become the enforcers of the Moon Goddess in that they used the metal more than their own magic to ensure that her Priests and Priestesses had the strongest of a defense against their foes.

Adding spellwork to beskar was time consuming, exhausting, but the end result would be beneficial to Din and by extension it would be beneficial to you. Blessing items was not as simple as using an incantation and forcing your magic around or into an object like some people made it seem, it was much more in depth because in order to avoid destroying the targeted object by condensing magic around it the trick was to reach into the smallest molecules of the object and weave your magic into the molecular structure of it. With beskar natural anti-magic properties you had to work the blessing into the very small T-shaped piece of paper-thin kyber crystal that was already loaded with spells.

Which meant navigating the pinpoint small areas where the beskar was folded on and over itself in a way to create the divot for the crystal to sit which allowed the spellwork on the kyber crystals to work.

You were no armorer but the craftsmenship of this particular piece was stunning. You were careful in how much of your hands made contact with the metal, too much magic at once -and on a night with the Goddess’ power so strong in your veins- could lead to your magic being redirected back into you instead. Turning your focus more onto your magic, you could feel the greenery around you pulsing with life and answering the flare of your power as everything danced in a wind that didn’t exist.

He would never not be in awe of you, the sheer power in your frame, and Din kept his eyes on Koska as the other Mandalorian leaned against a tree with her crossbow drawn. He still didn’t trust her, even if she’d denounced her allegiance to Kryze, but he knew that the second she even remotely had a thought of striking you or him down that Wellyn’s spells would activate. For now he protected your modesty, while you weren’t as modest as some Sidhe it was still present with people you weren’t comfortable around and Koska was one of them.

Why the Goddess had chosen her as your protector was something you both understood, the other woman was a Naiad and tied to the moon as intrinsically as one of her Priestesses or Priests, but Koska had neglected her role as your protector for decades in favor of her loyalty to Kryze. It infuriated Din to know that for over a century you’d been forced to weave the strongest protection spells you knew, depend on Wellyn and your plants, because Koska refused to fulfill her oath to the Huntress.

The fact that she’d come crawling back to you after Kryze’s true nature came to light, and that you’d been willing to forgive her, proved to Din that you were a much better person than he was.

Koska’s helmet tilted to look over and watch, Din knew what she was seeing, the bright green glow with traces of silver that reflected off the helmet and cast a colored hue against you and his face and the stones around you. She was seeing the trees and grass and bushes move with life that people forgot they had, no wind to make them dance and tremble, seeing the magnitude of your power with her own eyes. His expression was a warning, a threat, and a reminder that he would protect you but that you could also handle her yourself if she did try anything.

Din had taught you how to fight, insisted on it so you never had to depend on your magic, and Koska had seen you take down golems twice your size without using any spells; Bo Katan’s enforced idea that you couldn’t be a good Priestess if you depended on your physical prowess proven wrong right here and right now.

Wellyn jumped up high to climb into the tree on your altar, flower petals raining down, and the swell of magic began to pull at his own; he could feel you in his veins, feel you in his heart, and feel you in his very soul as your magic tugged at his. The sensation was like a wave, magic pushing and pulling between the two of you with a tide of its own, growing stronger with each pass; he didn’t use magic like you did, he couldn’t case spells and never really would. But this? This was more than enough for him to understand how addicting the feeling of calling so much power could be, he understood how the Dark Saber -a blade of raw magic- had enticed so many to corruption and further darkened the blade, and yet he didn’t understand it.

How anyone, even you, was willing to have this much power at their fingertips freely and not be cautious was baffling; you’d never shown caution or hesitation in your prowess as a Priestess, in your prowess as a spell caster. Feeling this always moving energy, this always growing swell, between the two of you was almost terrifying knowing that one wrong move could lead to you both being hurt if there was any accidental backlash or if you had to cancel your casting out should the altar be attacked.

He knew it was your confidence, your trust that you were safe between Wellyn’s spells and Koska’s presence, and your confidence in the Goddess that she wouldn’t allow anything to harm either one of you. Din respected the Huntress, revered her for giving him a second chance at life and then leading him to you, but his faith was not nearly as strong as yours.

No matter how many times you used him to amplify and to act as a center point for your magic, that you called on this bond the two of you shared, he would never be able to fully adapt to the feeling of it -you- in his very veins.

It took an hour for you to complete the Blessing, the draw on both of you much less between the full moon light and the fact that it was a shared burden, but Din was focused on Koska’s unmoving form. As the last glow finally faded, leaving only the moonlight to illuminate the clearing, he found himself waiting to see what the other Mandalorian had chosen to do. He kept it from you -because he knew you’d be enraged and likely go after Kryze yourself- but Boba Fett’s spies had confirmed her meeting up with Kryze again, given an offer to return to the former Princess’ faction, if she killed you.

But Koska nodded once, now that the spell was done, and walked away; Wellyn jumped down to follow her, the cat síth navigating the dark on silent feet, and Din felt you lean back against his chest before you were shifting so you were on your knees facing him. The height of the stone pedestal made him have to look up at you and he smiled when you leaned down to rub your nose to his.

“Let’s test this out, yea?” Din pulled his hood back and you slid the helmet down, the spells on the kyber activating at the touch of his aura, and he looked around slowly. The shine of colors was almost stunning for a second but he could see the barest outline of green on all the plant life, the green and silver aura that surrounded you, a glance at his hands and he could see the faint crimson red of the fire nature magic he’d never trained.

Even the darksaber had a deep purple and black glow around the hilt.

“You should be able to get dampen of the effect-“ Din wasn’t quite sure how it worked, other than thinking that he didn’t want to see it, but the spell responded to his will and the effect disappeared; he supposed that, as you’d said before, the most important part of spellcasting was the will behind the magic rather than the incantation or ritual process. Which made sense; given that he’d seen Boba’s Priestess cast a seal spell using eye drops for salt, eye pencil for the chalk to draw the circle, and a coin as the item to seal the wayward demonic entity within

“You truly honor me, my Priestess.”

“Because I love you, my Consort, and I want you to always come back to me.”

“Not even the Immortals could keep me from you, cyar’ika.” He helped you down and followed you through the grove, seeing Wellyn waiting at the door to be let into your cabin, and Din smiled as you went to change before he set the kettle to boil and glanced at the scroll from Skywalker again.

“Be safe, I will be cautious around Koska while you’re gone.” This training session he would be doing was going to last for months, to learn how to effectively use the dark saber as it was meant to be used, and while he was happy to get to see Grogu again he would miss you. But Skywalker had been clear, you were forbidden from joining him, your magic was too powerful and would interfere with the natural energy of the small southern township where the psychics who joined the Jedi religion called home.

“Reeves was seen with Kryze again, if there are problems Fennec is willing to stay here or Boba will host you at the palace, be more than cautious.”

“If Kryze tries anything, by her own hand or through others, I will kill her. Mandalorian or not.”

Din nodded, knowing you were serious, and lifted his helmet up enough to kiss you. It would be enough until he was able to come back to you.

All Fics Taglist: @haylzcyon @wordsnwhiskey @pagannightwitch @radiowallet @tauralmie @amneris21 @trickstersp8 @practicalghost @rominaszh @alwaysdjarin @alexxavicry @all-the-way-down-here

Just Pedro Taglist: @maievdenoir @beecastle @littlemisspascal @writeforfandoms @AynsleyWalker @lovesbiggerthanpride @mswarriorbabe80

Alt Taglist: @imtryingmybeskar @fan-of-encouragement @grogusmum @sizzlingcloudmentality @deadhumourist @prostitute-robot-from-the-future

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x fem!reader #iridescence fictional universe #forest affairs #mando x fem!reader #mando x f!reader #sidhe mando #sidhe f!reader #fantasy au #mandalorian fantiction #chaoticwrites

[fairies-in-the-garden]

a worthwhile purchase

pedro pascal x fem!reader | 3k words

summary: your new robe grips pedro's attention… leaving the both of you very pleased you bought it

warnings/notes: explicit (18+). smut. p in v. oral (fem receiving). established relationship. mutual teasing (but dominant pedro) some soft pedro. pretty much filth with some lead up.

a/n - first post!!! i've been writing for years but only now have the guts to post anything. sorry if it’s a bit too wordy (i just love writing detailed description) i really hope you enjoy - this one was very fun to make :)

--- --- ---

with a flick of the light switch, you make your way out of the darkened bathroom to join pedro in bed. the thought of curling up sweetly beside him almost as warm as the new robe, fresh from the dryer, that delicately hugs your figure.

to your surprise, he is sitting on the end of the bed, patiently, seemingly awaiting your arrival. the sound of your soft steps against the hardwood floor catches his attention, his head turning to you approaching in the doorway. instantly, his expression shifts - a look all to familiar, happily so.

“what?” you say a few times, at first with genuine curiosity, then more so with slight tease. you can’t help but smirk at him, against your best attempt at remaining unaffected by his gaze.

you’re stuck standing in your place against the doorframe; his affect on you strong as ever. nevertheless, you try to fight it - the best way you know how.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you say, teasingly. you know the meaning beneath that look. but you also know that how you approach this moment, makes the reason for that look’s presence even more avid.

“like what?” he plays along, per usual. he has that way of never breaking character. that way of not revealing his fatal smirk until he wants to.

“like a kid in a candy store.” you reply, coyly.

“i can't help it, it's how i feel.” his head tilts to the side, as to take you all in. his stare burns into you, and you love the way it stings just right.

blushing, you walk towards him; pedro’s eyes never dropping their gaze upon yours. his legs spread instinctually to allow you closer, yet his hands stay prudently at his side. you step in as far as possible, thighs touching thighs. as you place your hands at his ever-so-tense shoulders, his hands wrap swiftly around your wrists, grabbing hold of them gently. his eyes remain locked on yours as his lips, in which your timid gaze has fallen to, part to speak. “when did you get this?”

at first, your mind is too blissed out to understand what he’s referring to, but his fingers quickly bring you back to reality. one of his hands now trails to the sleeve of your filly new robe; black and satin, draped over your body in the most heavenly way. the front hangs open, exposing your figure beneath it.

“today,” you state plainly.

“any particular reason?” he says suggestively.

“i like the way it makes me feel.”

“i like the way it makes you look.” he says, eyes widening at his own words as they scan up and down your frame. you scoff slightly in response, unconvinced of his words of praise.

“i’m not even in my sexy underwear.” you find yourself to say in a whisper, though not exactly sure why. probably the nerves from his longing eyes now back on yours.

“i still think they're sexy,” his lips remain parted slightly, as if to say more. his hands fall from their place on your arms to your hips, his fingers hanging gingerly from the waistband of your panties. then he continues, shyly like a child, but with enough charm to kill a village, “can i take them off?”

his hard, dominating gaze falls soft for a moment as he begs beneath you. with the slight shift, a surge of confidence rushes through you.

“i suppose.” you say teasingly, feeling as though you now have the upper hand.

his hands make their way around your waist to your back. icy, their touch sends a shiver up your spine. abruptly, to your dismay, you exclaim "jesus your hands are cold!” your eyes fall shut, head thrown back, as your hands grasp the hair at the back of his head for support.

“not for long.” he claims, the smirk in his voice evident. and just like that, as usual, your short-lived dominance has been stolen. your eyes remain shut for a moment, as if to prepare yourself for what’s to come.

“look at me.” you tilt your head down before slowly opening your eyes; eyelids hanging low as if to cover yourself somehow. but theres no staying covered when pedro is like this.

he looks up at you, pupils enlarging as he takes you all in. you feel his hand gently trace circles on your lower back. you watch him intently as he leans forward, placing a kiss between your breasts. the contact makes you shudder, your breath hitching and becoming heavier, more needy. you’re convinced he must be able to hear your heart beating from the outside; it’s certainly all you can hear in the moment. he hums as he pulls away from the lingering kiss.

“i love that after all these years you still react that way.” he thinks he is in control here, and although you know he is, you’re desperate to act the opposite. after a moment of collection, you have the courage to speak.

“and still, after all these years, i'm impatient.” you say giving him a certain look.

“i’m gonna take things slow.” - again with the assumed control, you think.

“i’ll allow it.” you say proudly, managing to remain serious and self-assured. he chuckles at your words, a defeated grin taking over his lips. that’s better.

both of pedro’s hands trail up, locating the clasp of your bra and undoing it in a swift, skilled motion. you’d hoped he’d find your wearing it to bed silly, leading to this eventually; but this is all the more greater than you’d anticipated.

your breasts spill out slightly, though still somewhat contained by the straps wrapped around your shoulders. pedro’s hands slowly snake out from behind your back, carefully caressing your waist on the way. reaching both arms up the billowing sleeves of your robe, he grabs ahold of the straps, gently bringing them down around your arms.

“now that's real sexy, huh?” you say sarcastically at the odd maneuver. he watches you intently as you speak, spellbound by you. you’re not even sure he heard what you said. then his eyes make way to your chest, your breasts bouncing out from your bra, now fallen to the floor.

“really sexy.” he says, eyeing your now exposed chest.

his hands find their way around you again, pulling you in to close the gap. you fall into him, your legs lazily finding their place on either side of him for support. eager, his mouth finds way to your breasts, leaving a trail of sweet kisses across your skin. the warm, wet sensation leaves you entranced. your chest rapidly heaves as he works his magic. coming up for air, he looks to you, eyes darkened with lust, before diving back in for more - this time to your mouth.

his kiss starts sweet, tender, and deepens to a rough, sloppy fashion. your hands, still tangled in his hair, move down to the neck of his shirt, pulling on it as if to signal him. he obeys, lifting his arms up, not breaking the kiss until the last necessary moment. once his shirt is off, thrown somewhere across the room, he goes right back for more.

his hands are immediately back to your waist, nuzzled under the soft satin of your robe. your lips go numb from the euphoria of it all. gently, he grabs your bottom lip with his teeth, nibbling it softly. releasing it, with one last peck to your mouth, he pulls away. you whimper at the loss of contact.

“can you lay down for me?” he asks tenderly as he rises, guiding you up with him. you happily take his supporting arms, finding that your legs are no help in the process. eyes lock as you nod, biting your lip as you turn with him, your body now the one at the edge of the bed. 

he leads you benevolently to lay on your back, using his knee to spread your legs as he does. your body melts into the mattress, completely at pedro’s will - and he lives for it.

your back arches as you adjust yourself on the bed. pedro’s rough hands lay softly on your knees, holding them open as he watches over you. “fuck,” his tone is rough before it turns sweet, “look at you...” you wonder if the words weren’t meant to slip out. you blush at them regardless. 

as his hands slide up your thighs, your eyes squint shut in anticipation. pedro, however, wildly gazes down at you. “so wet for me already, huh...” he says brazenly, noticing your already soaked panties. his hands linger closer to tease the skin just before your still clothed pussy, achingly taking his time.

“pedro,” you whimper. the pace, although clearly stated earlier, is driving you crazy with need. he ignores your words and continues his game. climbing onto the end of the bed, he hovers over you. his hands now on your waist. his eyes locked on your burning face. you watch him, dazed, waiting for him to make his next move.

his fingers dance around the waistband of your panties, beginning to tug at them, then stopping all at once. you grunt. he laughs to himself, then proceeds again. looping around the hem, pedro pulls them down painfully slowly. the cool air of the room hits your most sensitive spot in a delightfully, erotic way. 

as you lift your hips for him to remove the tangled cloth the rest of the way, he helps you - raising your legs the rest of the way then resting them over his shoulders when done. leaning down, you feel his hot breathe right where you want it.

with a kiss to each thigh, ever so close to your throbbing center, you let out an agonizing moan. “pedro, please.” you sound desperate, but you don’t care anymore.

“what?” acting coy, he begins to pull back to look to you, but you force him back down with your legs before he has the chance. you hear that smirk in his voice again when he speaks, “what do you want, baby? tell me.”

“touch me,” you say instantly, breathlessly, “now.”

in lieu of words, he breaks the distance. his mouth crashing into your pussy, spreading you open with his warm, eager tongue. he aims straight for your aching clit. a whimpering mess, your back wiggles and arches with every movement. your hands grasp hopelessly at the sheets before moving to his hair. his head bobs beneath your hands, your body squirming pleasantly beneath him.

“oh fuck,” you let out as his tongue works at all the places you need it most.

“that’s it baby,” his words are tender as he pulls away briefly. a whimper is all that fills the air as you mourn the loss of his sweet contact. with composure, you lift your head to look down at him. his face shiny, lips dripping with your slick, his eyes fixated on yours. 

with a smirk he spits directly on your clit. your back arches at the euphoric sensation. eyes rolling back, your head follows swiftly with a thud to the pillow beneath it. before you can even plead for him to hurry up, pedro dives right back in for more; eager to clean up the mess he’s made.

your legs struggle to remain open, closing in around his head, as the feeling in your lower stomach builds more intensely. his hands, wrapped firmly around your thighs, hold you down and open for him. breaking contact with your aching slit once more, he speaks softly against your inner thigh, “use your hips baby, take what you need from me.” with a kiss to your warm skin, he resumes his favorite activity.

this time he aims further down, fucking your hole with his skillful tongue. your hips remain still beneath his touch, too focused on keeping a steady breath. but he is clear in his demands; he always is. pressing his nose to your clit, the motion of his work creates the perfect rhythm for an increasing high. tightening your grip on the curls by his neck, you wiggle and grind beneath his face. with every flick of his tongue, every bounce of his nose on your throbbing bud, you’re tugging, pulling at his hair. soft, pleased moans vibrate against you’re wet folds.

“oh god,” you exclaim, “fuckkk,” your words dissolve into a pathetic whimper. he takes this as a sign to go harder. mouth now returning to your clit, he begins to suck, his hand now nearing to join it. two rough fingers slip up and down your opening, acclimating them to your pussy. teasingly slowly and with intentional force, he fills you up just right.

“pedro please,” you huff out in agony. removing his mouth from your wet slit, he looks up to you; pretty as a devil. fingers still working your pussy he speaks, tone low and full of lust, “please... what?” you know the game he’s playing at.

not an ounce of the teasing confidence you earlier tried to possess is left in you as he tires you from the inside out. when you don’t speak quick enough, his rough fingers begin to bend, curling up into you in an assertive manner. 

a frustrated “fuck,” leaves your lips, quivering from the overstimulation. “please,” he watches as your chest rises and falls with heavy, shaky breathes, “i need you...” you know that’s not going to satisfy him to the extent he desires, so you breathlessly continue, “i need you to fuck me.”

fingers slipping out of you with a pop, pedro brings them to your mouth with dark eyes searing into your own. “open,” you oblige with no contest. taking his dripping fingers into your mouth, your tongue licks the mess you’d made of them clean.

with swiftness, he’s at the end of the bed, on his feet before you; eyes never leaving yours. your own, heavy with lust, look hungrily up to him. your shaking fingers find their way to peaked nipples from their place clutching the sheets beneath you. circling your raised peaks you begin to thrust your hips at nothing; eager for the presence of him.

pedro’s hands are at his waistband. rapidly, he undoes his belt with ease. jeans falling to his feet, he wastes no time in fully removing them before he’s grabbing you by the hips to pull you to him. 

adjusting himself to your entrance, he spits on your open, throbbing pussy once more before he slides in with delicious ease. you pull your bottom lip in to stop the whimper that begs to fall from it.

“that’s it baby, atta girl.” one of his hands presses firmly down on your right hip, holding you in place. at the same time, his other hand lingers up to grab ahold of your breast. the room, dim and hot, is filled only with the sounds of skin on skin, of whimpers and moans, of pure, overwhelming pleasure.

his thrusts are steady and deep before he suddenly pulls out, running the tip of his cock firmly against your aching clit. your back arches involuntarily, head digging firmly into the pillow for support. with efficiency, he’s back inside in an instant. 

he’s huddled over on top you now, his chest on yours, craving to be as close to you as he can. as he dips his head into the curve of your neck, hot breathe fans across your skin sending a shiver down your burning hot spine. your rapid pulses and shaky breaths begin to sync as pedro pounds up into your g-spot. your arms go suddenly to grip his shoulder’s for support as he hits it just right.

head still buried in your neck, he leaves sweet kisses behind your ear, nipping at the soft the skin here and there. with his thrusts becoming sloppier and slower he speaks, “you close baby?” your walls clench from his words, your back arching under his weight. “fuck,” he hisses.

“cum for me baby,” he demands before softening his tone, “can you do that?” he slips out slightly before diving deep into you again. hard and fast, he works your body to climax. spasming, inside and out, you begin to whine and cry out. clenching down tight around his cock, you have so much built up energy you simply don’t know what to do with. your nails dig into the toned muscles at the back of his neck as you squirm beneath him. “yeahhh, just like that baby,” he hums, coaxing you through your orgasm.

the pressure in your stomach builds and builds before it collapses like a wave against the shore. gasping for air, your hands caress pedro’s head as he follows right behind you. with a final rough thrust, he’s done for - the tough man that held so much power over you, now a whimpering mess at your will.

“oh fuck baby, fuck,” he whines. 

moments pass, your bodies still entwined as you come down from your shared breathless high. with a kiss to your temple, pedro finally removes his twitching cock from within you. a low and gutural groan escapes him as he slides through your tight walls one final time.

falling to the bed beside you, his arms stay tenderly wrapped around your body. laying there easing your breath, you look around the room. layers of clothing lay scattered about, but the only thing you care to take note of is your new robe tousled on the floor. a lazy smirk creeps onto your flushed face.

pedro, watching over you with admiration, brushes the unruly hair from your face. noticing your gaze fixated on something, he follows it. with a soft chuckle and a tender squeeze to your hip he states into the still calm after the storm, “i’m real glad you got that thing.” he plants a warm kiss to your shoulder. turning to face him, you sink into the depth of his big brown eyes.

“me too,” you hum, blissfully.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #husband pedro pascal #joel miller #javier pena #din djarin #mando #the mandalorian #pedro pascal fic #pedro smut #pedro fluff #pedro pascal fandom #javier pena smut #joel miller smut #established relationship #fem reader #x reader #pedro is daddy #pedro #fairies-in-the-garden

[talaok]

I just saw the video of the interviewer and Pedro where she called him daddy and asked how he was doing and his response was, “I’m alright, mama.” And I am in DESPERATE need of a fic. Wherever you want to go with it.

pairing: Pedro Pascal x interviewer!reader

a/n: This wasn't supposed to go like this. It's much more fluffy than I expected, but oh well, hope you enjoy.

You were nervous, as always.

The two years you'd been doing this flew out the window each time you knew you had to interview him.

It was such a stupid thing, a schoolgirl crush, but as much as you reminded yourself just how idiotic it was, the feeling never quite faded.

You had no idea what it was, the way he shook your hand the first time, the way his eyes never left yours, the sweet sound of your name rolling off his tongue...

It was all in the back of your mind, locked and loaded for you to remember.

You try to be calm with him though, playful even, but god if he doesn't make it hard.

He and his handsomeness and what you firmly believed was involuntary flirtatiousness.

You were taking a deep breath when you saw the flashes on the carpet starting to die down.

fuck.

It was time.

just like magic, he appeared before you in a few moments, followed by his assistant.

They exchanged a few words and you saw Pedro's eyes focus on you while the men beside him explained to him something to his ear.

You swallowed thickly, his gaze draining all the breath out of you.

God, he was beautiful, even his outfit fit him to a t.

Before you had gotten enough time to properly freak out, he was walking towards you.

"good evening Pedro!" you said cheerfully.

"good evening to you too Y/n"

You had to remind yourself his assistant had probably just reminded him of your name, and that he didn't just know it on the tip of his tongue.

You knew what you needed to say next, but the pit in your stomach informed you it wasn't a good idea.

You forced the fear down.

"so how're you doing daddy?"

He chuckled, and you couldn't help but stare.

"I'm alright mama" he grinned, and you swore you could feel your brain leaking out of your ears, as it had melted.

mama?

"you don't like that?" he noticed the expression on your face.

"I-I do" you blushed "maybe a little too much"

What the fuck

Why the fuck did you just say that?

He laughed softly, a smirk tugging at his lips " That's interesting" he spoke, and you felt like you were about to die, so you decided to change subject.

"so, if you remember-"

"I remember" he interrupted

"let me ask the question first" you laughed

"I don't have to, I remember every interview with you" he smiled "You're not easy to forget"

oh

If you were having troubles breathing before, your lungs were now completely useless.

"I-" you gulped, your eyes glancing at the expecting man behind the camera.

"It's alright sweetheart, what was the question?"

You were as red as the blood flowing beneath your skin.

"You really wanna get me fired, don't you?" you joked.

"that's the last thing I want" he shook his head "how else would I get to see you?"

"well there are other ways," you said before you could stop yourself.

He smirked, and you noticed his eyes scanning your face "I know there are" he said "Maybe I should get to work on those"

and just like that, your heart stopped.

did he mean...?

You couldn't think about it, not now, you had an interview to carry on, or you were actually gonna get fired.

"You have to stop"

"stop what?"

"I can't interview you if I have a heart attack, Pedro" You smiled, and he reciprocated, his eyes playful and yet somewhat... adoring.

"You're right, I'll stop," he said "What's the first question, mama?"

this bastard.

__ __ __

"thank you very much," you said, ending the interview.

"thank you" he smiled, as the camera shut off and the cameramen slipped away after murmuring something to your ear.

You could hear all the other interviewers shout and call for him, but for some reason, he didn't move.

"You should go," you told him "They're all waiting to interview you"

"I know," he said as if it physically pained him "but first I wanted to do something I've been thinking of for a while now" 

"what's that?" you asked

"ask for your number"

You froze. Every molecule of your being stilled in shock.

"I-" you stuttered "a-are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"b-because you're Pedro Pascal"

He grinned "And you're y/n y/l/n, the most beautiful and charming woman I've ever met"

Your mouth couldn't help but to break into the dreamiest of smiles, and according to Pedro, the most breathtaking too.

"where?"

he frowned

"Where do I give you my number?"

he too, broke into a smile, relief washing over him as you accepted "here" he patted his pockets "Put it in my phone" he said, handing it to you.

You did, your fingers threatening to type wrong as they trembled.

"done" you said, giving it back

"I gotta go now" he sighed "but..."

your eyes shot up to his

"please don't change your mind sweetheart" he begged

"wouldn't dream of it" you promised, earning a big smile, as he backed away into the crowd on the carpet.

You put your hands on the metal fence in front of you, exhaling deeply as you let your head fall between your shoulders.

did that just really happen?

Did I finally go completely crazy?

And then, just as you were about to accept your fate as a soon-to-be psychiatric hospital patient, your phone dinged.

Two new messages from an unknown number lit up the screen.

-hey mama

-so do you have plans for tomorrow night?

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x fem reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal interview #the last of us hbo #the last of us #tlou #tlou hbo #the mandalorian #narcos #joel miller #javier pena #mando #pedro pascal x interviewer!reader #fluff

[imaginedisish]

The Only Exception (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!!! Ahhh here is the Din Djarin x reader fic I said I’d post. This has been sitting in my WIPs since late November/early December. This is what I was working on before I got sick. I’m so happy it’s done. I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out, although I may have written something similar to this already. It’s very much inspired by “The Only Exception,” by Paramore. I’m hoping I didn’t use this song as a title yet....Oh well. ENJOY!

Summary: Din has been wildly overprotective of you lately, but maybe it’s because there’s something lying deep below the surface that’s been threatening to bubble over...

Warnings: SMUT!!!!! 18+ Please!!! Oral (f!receiving), fingering, PIV sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cursing, canon typical violence, Jedi!reader, Razor Crest still exists (and it’s def bigger in my head than it is in the show), praise kink, friends to lovers, angsty but fluffy and smutty dw, I only proofread like 2 times so it may be bad (it’s 3:16am...so...we die like men!), AFAB reader, uhhh I think that’s it...

Word Count: 3,078

“I swear to the Maker, if you don’t get back on the Crest now, I’m gonna-,”

Din is cut off by the sound of your lightsaber clashing through the plastoid armor of the stormtrooper to your left. You swing your saber around, showing off more than you need to. You throw it down the alleyway, feeling through the force as it cuts through another stormtrooper before finding its way back to your hand.

“You’re gonna what?” You say, tilting your head to the side. You point your saber to the stormtroopers scattered around the alleyway. “I just saved you.” You close your saber and cross your arms cockily.

Din shakes his head, his gaze refusing to meet yours. “And where’s the kid? You just left him on the Crest?” You roll your eyes, turning your back towards him as you remove your cloak from your shoulders. There, in perfect condition, is Grogu, secure in a little carrier on your back.

“You really think I’d be that dumb?” Your words have a callous edge to them. Din had been far moodier than usual over the past few days, and with that came a strange overprotectiveness that you hadn’t seen before. It was starting to feel as if he thought you were going to mess up, that you couldn’t take care of yourself. “You think I’d put the kid’s life at stake?”

“That’s not what I meant.” The anger in his voice has all but melted away. You’re shocked by how defeated he sounds now.

You inhale deeply, taking a moment to calm yourself down. “So what did you mean, Din?”

“We don’t have time for this now.” He’s curt and almost a bit cold, his modulated voice echoing off the walls of the alleyway. “We need to get back to the ship.”

You hate the way he’s brushing you off, ignoring you, pushing you to the side. You didn’t need this; you didn’t need to put up with his shit. Not anymore. “What is going on with you?” The words come out louder, more aggressive than you meant them to.

Din takes a single stride towards you, his broad figure practically shoving you against the wall in the process. “We are not doing this here.” The feeling of him being so close to you clouds your mind. You can’t form a coherent thought, never mind a sentence. You want to say something, to stand up for yourself, but you can’t. “Now cut the shit so we can get back to the ship.” There’s that anger again, that finality in his voice.

In the distance you can hear stormtroopers chatting, whispering your name, mumbling on about Grogu, warning each other about the Mandalorian. Din was right. There was no time to hash this out here. You nod, finally caving in. Din takes a step away from you, immediately grasping your wrist in his hand before making a break for the Crest, just on the other end of the alleyway.

Somehow you make it without being seen. Din lets go of your hand, motioning for you to get on the ship. You make a b-line for the back and carefully remove Grogu from his carrier, placing him in his crib. You stand frozen in place in front of it, watching his eyes flutter open and closed as he slowly drifts off to sleep.

You don’t want to move. You rather watch the child you had come to care so deeply for sleep peacefully than deal with a massively enraged Din. The oncoming fight would most definitely wake Grogu, so maybe it was best for you to hide in the little corner that you had come to call Grogu’s bedroom, completely unnoticed. But obviously, that’s not an option. You begrudgingly step towards the end of the hull and decide to keep your hands busy by organizing the tiny stock of food that lined a makeshift shelf along the far wall.

You can hear Din’s heavy steps on the other side of the ship, presumably heading up towards the cockpit. After a few seconds and many annoyed grunts from Din, the ship is lifted into the air and away from danger.

You try your best to bring yourself to get angry at him, to yell some explicative across the hull of the ship and spit a curse in his helmet-covered face. You wanted the consequences, for him to storm over and scream back. But you couldn’t – because things weren’t normally like this. Din had always been kind, caring, protective even.

He'd leave the cockpit to grab a blanket from his cot when you fell asleep in the co-pilot’s chair. He’d come back and gently, yet silently, tuck you in with it. It was the only blanket he had. Sometimes you’d wake up in his bed, having been carried into it at some point during the night. He’d be awake, taking care of the child, flying the Crest, making sure nothing and no green baby woke you up.

You’d be lying if you said his doting behavior didn’t draw you to him, that it didn’t make you crave him. Every soft touch on your shoulder, every time you pretended to be asleep just to feel his arms wrap around you as he brought you to his cot. You’d let your stares linger a little too long from time to time, pushing past your reflection in his armor, searching for some sort of sign that maybe he feels the same.

You wanted him to come up behind you, rest his hands on your hips, squeezing softly at the exposed inch of skin where your top and your pants just can’t seem to meet, and whisper in your ear in that husky, modulated voice that he’s sorry, that he’ll make up to you by-

“Never, ever, do anything like that again.” You practically jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice. You quickly turn around, not realizing how close Din had gotten to you. His chest is practically flush against yours, the proximity causing you to stumble back against the shelf, threatening to bring it down with you.

Din immediately snakes an arm around your waist, keeping you from falling against the cold metal floors below. Your arms instinctively reach up around his neck to stabilize yourself. You’re glued to him now, and you don’t particularly want to let go. You swallow harshly, intimidated by the way the beskar clad man seems to tower over you, by the way you can smell him, by the way his forehead practically touches yours.

You take a deep breath, furrowing your brows and doing your best to collect your thoughts despite the fog that the moment seemed to create in your brain. “Do what? Save your ass?” You spit, instantly regretting the harshness of your words, even if he deserves them.

“You weren’t supposed to leave the ship.” He’s stern, his voice somehow punishing. “You were supposed to stay here with the kid.”

You shake your head, feeling far too much like a child caught playing in the front seat of their parent’s speeder. “You needed my help! You would’ve died out there without me! And I can handle myself,” You yell, trying to ignore how you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours. “If this is about risking the kid’s life, I promise you I wasn’t. I would never put him-,”

He cuts you off, “I know you wouldn’t, that’s not what this is about.”

What? You think to yourself, confused beyond belief. If this wasn’t about the child, then what could this possibly be about? “So then what’s the problem?” You ask, more aware of the way that Din is holding you against him now than you were before.

You can hear Din inhale deeply through the modulator. “You.” A shudder rolls down your spine. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” There’s still an edge in his voice, but he’s calmer now, almost pained, as if considering your death in some dark corner of his mind.

“Sorry that my death would be such an inconvenience for you,” You say sardonically. “It’ll be hard trying to replace me with some other force-wielding wizard that’ll be willing to babysit for you, since clearly that’s all I am.” You wanted the words to sting him, to hurt him, and maybe they did, but it felt like a punch in the gut to simply think them. You wanted to grab the words from where they still hung in the air and shove them back into your mouth, to swallow them so that they could burn in the acid of your stomach.

Din tilts his head down, crushed, defeated. Your heart winces. Fuck. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His stare finds yours again, and you quickly look down at his shoulder, too embarrassed to have him look you in your eyes.

You shake your head. “But Din, that’s the problem,” You say, somehow finding the courage to meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you mean. How am I supposed to know what you mean if you won’t kriffing tell-,”

“Fucking hell, I don’t want to lose you!”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

Din looks around the hull, as if the words he was searching for were hiding, wrapped somewhere around its silver walls. “I can’t lose you. And before you ask, no, it’s not because you train the kid or whatever the hell you think it is.” You can feel the pain in his voice, guilt quickly filling your gut. “It’s just…” He trails off, silence hanging heavy in the air.

“Well…what is it?” You mumble, struggling to force down the lump in your throat. You wish you could see his face, to get a sense of his expression, an inkling as to what he was really feeling.

“You,” He says, as if those three letters held some secret, omniscient being or meaning. To him, they did. It was you. You were the thing that kept him up at night, the thing that made him want to show every facet of his being for the first time in his life.  “You’re reckless and careless and sometimes you drive me absolutely insane.”

You scoff. “Wow, what a glowing review of my services!”

Din shakes his head. “You don’t fucking get it. You’re so much more than that, because even though you drive me crazy,” He pauses; the modulator picks up his breath as it catches in his throat, “I know I’d never be able to spend an entire lifetime without you in it.”

You’re speechless. An entire lifetime? “Din I-,”

“Close your eyes.”

“What? You just said all that and you want me to close my-,”

“Just close your eyes. You trust me, don’t you?”

Of course I trust you, smart-ass, You think to yourself. So, you do what he says, shutting your eyes firmly. Then there’s a hiss, and then something clunks loudly against the floor. And then…

It’s warm, and soft, and smooth, and all those other perfect words someone would use to describe the perfect kiss. He has a mustache under all that metal, and now you know, because it tickles ever so gently just above your upper lip. His hands squeeze your hips just a bit tighter, pulling you further into his chest.

His lips press deeper into yours, hungrier. You keep your eyes closed tightly, your hands sliding up and into his hair, combing gently. He moans into your mouth at the touch as he guides you away from the shelf and towards his cot.

“D-Din,” You stutter in between gasps.

“What is it, mesh’la?” He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

You can feel the heat pooling at the bottom of your stomach, but there’s something stopping you, something telling you that there’s no possible way this could ever be real, that it wasn’t a set-up, that it wasn’t a dream. “Do you really want this?”

“More than anything.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you silently wish to yourself that you could see it. “Do you?”

You nod, repeating his words, “More than anything.”

His lips find yours again, his knee nudging in between your thighs as he pushes you down onto his cot. He’s on top of you now, his hands on either side of your body. “Wanted you for so long…” He whispers in your ear. “Wanted you this whole time.” Fuck, he was going to kill you.

Din presses sloppy kisses into the crook of your neck, leading up to your jaw. His hands stretch under the hemline of your shirt, his fingertips gliding across your stomach and towards the edge of your bra. You shudder as he reaches underneath, slowly inching towards your chest.

Something was changing within him, and that something was you. You made him want to throw his Creed away, to ignore all he had been taught his entire life. How could you ever possibly be something he shouldn’t have? He needed you.

More than anything. And you needed him.

“Please,” You beg. “I need you Din, please.”

And just like that, something within him finally switched.

“Open your eyes, cyare,” He’s so quiet you almost miss it. His fingers dip underneath your bra, rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger teasingly before doing the same to the other. “’Want you to look at me when I make you come.”

Panic rises to your chest. “W-what, are you sure? What about the Creed, what about-,”

“It doesn’t matter, not if it means I can’t have you.”

You wait a moment, giving him time to change his mind, but he doesn’t. You let your eyes flutter open, his curly hair and brown eyes flooding your vision. And Maker, there’s that smile, the smile you’d only heard through laughs and sarcastic, snide quips. You swear your heart skips a beat, maybe even two. He was perfect. Of course he was fucking perfect.

“You’re beautiful,” You whisper, your hands finding their way to his cheeks, his neck, your fingertips carefully running over his lips. His forehead rests down on yours, his eyes closing softly, reveling in the intimacy.

Din lifts himself off you and makes his way down your body, settling in between your legs. His fingers hook the waistline of your pants, tugging them down and throwing them somewhere in the hull. He feels your core through your soaked panties.

“So fucking wet for me, pretty girl,” He coos, practically ripping your panties as he pulls them down your legs. “Need to taste you.”

“F-fuck, Din,” You breathe sharply as his tongue laps at your clit, your hips lifting off the mattress. Din presses an arm across your hips, keeping you down against the cot, his free hand spreading your slick, teasing your entrance.

“’Tastes so good,” He rasps, his voice vibrating deliciously against your core. “Doing so good for me sweet girl.”

His mouth sucks harshly at your clit, taking the small bundle of nerves into his mouth, lapping at you like he was starving. You wanted more, needed more.

“N-need you, Din,” You whine, your hips fighting against the arm that held you down. He pushes you down further into the mattress, his mouth pressing even deeper onto your core.

“Not done with you yet,” He grunts, pushing two fingers into your entrance, pumping in and out, fast and hard. You could feel yourself growing closer with each thrust.

You moan his name like it’s a prayer, and in this moment it is. “Din, please, I, just…” But you can’t finish your sentence. It’s all too much, his fingers, his tongue, his voice, him. He was everywhere and everything all at once. And yet you needed more.

“Use your words, sweet girl,” He says patiently, nonchalantly.

“I want…” Your words fail again. “I…need you to f-fuck me, please.”

But he doesn’t stop, he keeps going. “I said I wasn’t done with you yet.” You could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, teetering just on the edge.

“I’m so close,” You pant in between ragged breaths.

And then, abruptly, he pulls away, leaving you cold and empty. Before you can even think to sit up or reach out for him, he was back, his hips resting against yours, his pants and armor now somewhere scattered to the side. You could feel his cock throbbing against your inner thighs. He lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you.

“Din,” You whimper. “Plea-,”

He buries himself inside you, cutting you off, stretching you out. “So fucking tight,” He praises, pulling all the way out before thrusting back into you, filling you up again. “So soft, so perfect.” His fingers find your clit, circling the nerves roughly.

His forehead rests on your own as his left-hand searches for your right one. His fingers intertwine with yours just above your head, keeping you from drowning, cementing you there with him. It all feels so good, each pump, each circle at your clit. You can feel your walls clenching around him.

“Taking me so well,” He soothes, rocking into you. “Such a good girl.” It was all too much, his words, his cock.

“I-I’m gonna-,” You choke, white heat flooding your vision. You know Din isn’t far behind, his hips stuttering against yours.

“Come for me, sweet girl, that’s it,” Din moans, sending you over the edge. You feel yourself shattering underneath him, falling apart into a million pieces, only to be put back together again. His name slips off your tongue as he comes inside you.

His hips roll slowly against yours, gently rocking into you a few more times before pulling out.  

He shifts a bit so that you can comfortably lay on his chest. After all that, there’s only one thing you can think about.

“You wouldn’t be able to live without me?”

You look up at Din. His smirk stretches into a smile. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I wouldn’t, no.” He says it so matter-of-factly, so simply, as if it was common knowledge. “I need you. I always have.”

“I need you too.” He was the only person you had ever needed, the only exception. You didn’t need to tell him. He knew. Always has, always will.

You are the only exception

You are the only exception

And I'm on my way to believing

Oh, and I'm on my way to believing

#din djarin x reader smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you smut #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #din djarin x fem!reader #the mandalorian #mando x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin imagine #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader smut #Pedro Pascal x reader #Pedro pascal x reader smut #Pedro Pascal smut #din djarin x reader fluff #din djarin x reader angst #mando smut #mando x y/n #din djarin x jedi!reader #mando x jedi!reader #mando x fem!reader #the mandalorian x reader smut #mando imagine #din djarin x y/n

[chaotic-iguana]

HI OMG UR FICS ARE INTOXICATING WTH!!!

Can I please req a Din Djarin where he and the reader are travelling together and reader is bubbly/sunshine personality and then she admits her feelings and Din doesn’t reciprocate at first.. then her personality changes and she’s all sad and he can’t stand it!!!! Cause he does love her and he can’t bare to see her that way!!!

Super angst and fluff please 😭😭😭😭 THANK H IF U DECIDE TO WRITE THIS 🤍🤍

HELLO THANK YOU SO MUCH!! ofc im writing anything u request lysm ur the best plus the prompt is so adorable ahufsdkfjhfs. just to try sumth new, im gonna switch it up and do this one from din’s pov. lmk what you think!!

Enough

Summary: Din rejects reader when she confesses her feelings to him even though he feels the same, only to regret it later.

Pairing: Grumpy! Din x Sunshine! Reader (no use of y/n)

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: none, just a lot of angst and fluff

masterlist

——————————————————————————————————

Din Djarin was not a good man. He was aware of this, which is why he was careful not to get to close. Not to taint things with his darkness; the destruction that seemed to shadow him wherever he went. He learned to turn his head away when you sung softly to the child, to clench his fists and keep himself from reaching for you when you giggled at your own terrible (adorable) jokes, to steel himself against your pleas to purchase every single fuzzy fabric you saw, no matter the form. Socks, blankets, shirts, trousers, even a kriffing hat, which Din stopped and let you buy just to stop the stares he was getting from people at the way you were practically jumping in your spot, pointing at the shop’s display. 

But despite his best wishes, Din was not a strong man, either. Not as strong as he needed to be, to resist you. You, with a beaming smile that never failed to make him blush under his helmet; with tender, caring hands that looked so soft that Din wanted to rip his beskar off so you could brush them against him, just once. Your hair, which smelled so sweet that Din could catch traces of it through the beskar. Your eyes, almost siren-like when you blinked up at him while rambling away about something. The way you scrunched your nose with a snort when you couldn’t hold in a laugh. The fact that you had never, ever asked for his name - or an explanation of his helmet, for that matter - even when he knew you hadn’t heard of Mandalorians before. The lilting notes of laughter in your voice before you turned to him with a sly smile, offering him with a witty quip he would have killed others for voicing, before throwing back your head and howling. No, Din was nowhere near strong enough to stand a single damn chance against you. 

He could hear you humming to yourself and the baby while you heated some broth, stopping to lean down and pepper kisses all over Grogu’s face as he cooed happily. Walking into the cockpit, he grunted in acknowledgement of your “Hey, Mando! Sleep well?” before turning to the child and nudging his helmet against his wrinkly forehead. When he turned around to see a gentle smile gracing your face in acknowledgement of the scene in front of you, he straightened up and cocked his helmet as if daring you to comment. 

He was itching for a fight: something, anything to stop the sweet torture of your presence which seemed to breathe life into your surroundings, no matter where you stood. You’d find a way to brighten a graveyard, Cyar’ika. Your smile tightened slightly before you presented him with a bowl of his own, brushing past him to take the child in your arms and leave the cockpit. Every muscle in his body was tense, his mind begging him to let you stay, to apologise for his hostility. To hear you prattle on about something menial while he ate, to revel in the domesticity of being with you. Not like that, of course. You were simply too good for him. Too perfect; too pristine. Your eyes too bright and your heart too soft for him to be worthy of your love. And so Din slipped off his helmet, ducked his head, and ate in silence.

He had noticed that lately, you still spoke to him, but you’d leave with the child more often. He could hear conspiratorial whispers sometimes, the child nodding and babbling his own input as if the two of you were hiding something. You weren’t awkward around him, per se, just less readily giving of your laughter, your jokes, your mindless chatter. All Din knew was that his mind would not rest unless he confronted you, and soon. A restless yearning for your erratic, unnecessarily bright gestures gave way to the anxiety spooling in his gut. Had you finally seen him for what he is?

So later that day, after the supply run when you had fed and put Grogu to sleep, he approached you in the cockpit. He shuffled uneasily behind you, shifting his weight from side to side as he waited for you to break the silence. But uncharacteristically, you just continued to stare into hyperspace without a word. When Din cleared his throat, you turned your head his way. But your gaze was flitting around; your hands fiddling nervously in your lap. Why were you apprehensive? 

“Are you…” Din swallowed, unsure of how to phrase his question, “okay?” Are we okay?You looked up at him then, your eyes wide with anxiety, before looking down at your lap again. Could you be…scared? Of me? 

But then you took a deep breath; the nerves fading from your face and giving way to a look of complete resignation, your shoulders slumping with the weight of inevitability. Your gaze met his visor, and he could see that your fingers were lightly curled into fists.

“I don’t really know how to do this, Mando.” Another deep breath. The colour has faded from your face and suddenly you seemed so small, folded in on yourself, that Din had never had to wrestle harder with his own self-control to stop himself from pulling you into his chest and holding you; comforting you, until you’re back to your bouncy self. “You know that I like most people, right?” He nods; you do seem to like and be liked by most people he’s come across, even the ones he would deem unworthy to so much as look at you. 

“I’ve always really enjoyed meeting new people, and making friends. Life is easier when you’ve got people, right?” You’re rambling again, but instead of the usual enthusiasm lacing your tone, crippling worry dripped from your every word. Are you leaving him? 

“I think-I know that I like you more than I like everyone else. Anyone else. I like everything about you more than I’ve ever liked about anyone else and I just…” you trailed off, gulping. “It feels like you and Grogu are my family, already. And I guess I just can’t help but wonder if you might want more than this, like I do. I-fuck it-I’m in love with you, Mando.” And then you’re shying away from him again, biting your lip as you search his visor for a reaction. 

You’re in love with him? This has to be a joke. Din waited for the catch, standing unmovingly in front of you as if waiting for one of your signature punchlines to come tumbling out of your mouth. When it doesn’t, he just gaped at you, his mind overwhelmed with too many thoughts to even say anything. A part of him had never been happier than this moment right here; never loved you more than right now. But the other, more dominant part of him was practically reprimanding him. And what now, idiot? Profess your undying love to her and subject her to a life as the wife of a bounty hunter? No comfortable homes, no proper vacations or even neighbors. A life on the run. With you, dikuit - a man who has never been loved enough to understand how to reciprocate. There is nothing you can give her. There is nothing you can do. 

Din bristled under your gaze, suppressing a wince at the words that came out of his mouth next. “You mean to tell me that you are in love with a man you have never even see the face of? A man who hasn’t even told you his name? Stop lying to yourself. There is no ‘family’. You are the child’s caretaker, and nothing more. It would be best for you not to forget that in the future.” He wanted to slap a hand to his mouth, to bite his tongue - anything, anything not to see the way you wilted in front of him as his words registered. You slumped further in the chair, shoulders curving inwards as you brought your knees to your chest to curl up into a protective position, as if he was hurting you. Frustrated by the fact that he could neither pull you in his arms to comfort you, nor find it in himself to continue spewing bullshit he didn’t mean, Din just turned and walked away. He pretended not to hear the muffled crying echoing through the ship that night. 

——————————————————————————————————

That had been three weeks ago. He’d gone for a hunt right after, returning within the week. What he found back at the ship made a part of him wish he wouldn’t have returned at all. Your eyes sat bloodshot on hollow cheeks, sunken in your face as dark blotches formed under them. You were quiet, even with the concerned child - all the singing, humming goneas if it had never been. Grogu kept gesturing to you when he father looked his way, as if asking what was wrong. Din knew what was wrong. He just didn’t know how to fix it. He couldn’t find it in himself to leave you alone again, so he’d been mumbling excuses to you each morning as to why he was still on the ship. You’d never answer, just offering him the barest dip of your chin. Din hadn’t just rejected you-he’d been cruel about it. And he hadn’t slept since the night he’d spat those pathetic words at you in an effort of self-preservation, either. The moment kept replaying in his head over and over: your initial nervousness, the words you’d said to him, and your wince at the ones he’d reciprocated with. 

But like he’d admitted: Din Djarin was not a strong man. For you; only for you, he would crumble. To see your usual cheeriness replaced by this emptiness nearly made his knees buckle. You’d stopped eating, too - quietly slipping your food to Grogu, whose concern was overridden by his constant hunger. He’d done this: out of fear of hurting you, he’d reduced you to a mere shadow of what you used to be by doing it anyways. Out of his fear of fucking it up, he’d gone and done that exact thing without even trying to make it work. It was unacceptable to him, to go without hearing your laugh or your jokes or your humming. Not to see you giggling with Grogu. Fix it then, dikuit. So he would. 

Din walked into the cockpit, picked Grogu up from his place on the floor, and whispered a soft apology to him before shutting him in his cot. Grogu, ever-understanding, had just pressed a claw to his helmet and nodded as if wishing him luck. Thanks kid, I’m going to need it. He’d seen your confusion when he had taken Grogu out of the cockpit, but youremained mute. Walking back towards you, Din could feel his chest hurting at the way your hands shook and your eyes glossed over when he got closer. 

“I’m sorry.” His words have no effect; a tilt of your head is the only proof you offer to show that you heard him. Ironic, isn’t it, to be at the receiving end of what I do to others all the time? “For how harsh I was. I didn’t mean it.” Your mouth opens this time, but he raises a hand to stop you. If he doesn’t get this out now, he never will. “I was the one lying to myself, not you. I fell in love with you a long, long time ago, ner’karta. But I was scared-still am-because I have nothing good to give you. Not like what you deserve. My creed alone means that I can’t show you my face until we get married. My job doesn’t allow me stability. I have never been…loved. I do not know how to love you properly. All I know is that it doesn’t feel like a good morning until you say it, that I feel myself flushing under my beskar when you smile at me, that I have to bite my lip to stop a chuckle when you tell me your jokes. All I know is that since you’ve come into my life and made it brighter, it seems I can’t face the darkness alone again. These past two weeks have been hell, cyar’ika. I cannot bear to see you like this. Please forgive me. I will drop you off anywhere you wish to go.” 

And then your face is twisting and you’re sobbing - large, shuddering sobs that alarm Din when they begin. He reaches a tentative hand out towards you slowly, giving you more than enough opportunity to slap it away. When you don’t, he steps closer and pulls you into his chest. As I should have done then. You shake with the force of your hiccups, and Din reaches to rip off his gloves before wrapping his arms around you, a warm hand coming to cradle your head against him. All he can say is a feverish repetition of “I’m sorry, I’m sorrymy love, please forgive me”. 

By the time your tears subside, you can hear sniffs coming from under the helmet too; his modulated voice cracking and giving away his own crying. “Y-you don’t get to-to decide for me. You can’t decide whether or not you can offer enough or whether you can love me properly or not. Just love me, Mando. All you have to do is try.” Your voice is so fragile, so tentative as you speak into his chest that Din’s heart aches at the pain he can hear in it. You continue, “I don’t need stability from you, nor do I need your name or face. To have your heart is enough.” And though you can’t see it, Din has to shut his eyes and brace himself against the weight of his own tears this time. His chest warming, butterflies in his stomach as he tucks you impossible closer.

“Like I said, cyar’ika, you’ve had it for a very long time.” And then you’re smiling again, as Din’s knees threaten to buckle from the force of emotion that wells up at the sight. You’ve pulled back from his chest, but stay close enough to graze his helmet with your nose.

“Is that so, Mando? Do I want to know how long?” You whisper back, somehow looking straight into his eyes despite the visor. 

“Din.” At your frown, he clarifies hesitantly. “My name, cyar’ika. Din Djarin.” You beam brighter, repeating it to yourself. “Wait - cyar’ika? You started calling me that last year, when you were annoyed I bought that fuzzy green hat with frog ear and Grogu tried to eat it on the way home. I thought it was like a swear word, or something -not that I think you would swear at me, you just seemed very annoyed, you know?”

A chuckle slips past his modulator, before he gives in completely. “Close your eyes, please.” When you comply, he rips his helmet off and cups your jaw with his hand, thumb stroking your cheek. Leaning in, he presses his mouth to yours gently, leaning back to look at you. “Beloved, cyare. It means beloved.” Before he can say anything else, your hands tangle in his hair, and suddenly you’re pulling him back into another kiss. And another. And another. 

You two remain so wrapped up in each other that you actually forget to leave the cockpit until Grogu stomps in, having apparently broken out of his cot, and begins babbling at you both angrily, before seeing the smile on your face after so long and hurtling towards you at full speed, nearly tripping on his robes in the process before you catch him in your arms. 

It was true, though. You didn’t need Din to go out of his way to give you anything. This was enough. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore

#din dijarin x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #din djarin hurt/comfort #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x female reader #mandalorian hurt/comfort #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mando x reader #mando x reader smut #mando x y/n #mando x you

[random-thot-generator]

Don’t Leave Me Hangin’

MANDO x FEM READER

Summary: Reader gets stuck aloft in one of the Kom’rik’s cargo nets and has to call out to Mando for help. Filthy Mando smut ensues.

Warnings: explicit language, swearing, explicit sexual content, porn without plot, well, maybe a tiny little hint of plot, oral- f receiving, PiV, squirting, cum play(?), it’s messy- nuff said, Kom’rik sex, improper use of a cargo net, reader is an idiot who should think things through, Mando is an opportunist, no use of Y/N, maybe? bondage - Mando doesn’t help her out of the net like- immediately, but reader ain’t complainin’

(N/A: The brain fog has FINALLY lifted, and I wanted to write about my most recent random filthy thot. This is the result. It’s a long-ish, smutty one shot. Reader & Mando are in a situationship - friends-with-benefits type deal. I’m picturing like a live-in nanny/housekeeper kind of thing, but I don’t think I ever specified. This is post-season 3, and Mando’s living his best life on Nevarro. He and reader are in a Kom’rik, because I need room for my smut to flourish, and I didn’t want to resurrect the poor old Razor Crest from the ashes. If I missed any tags, let me know. And I hope you enjoy.)

Word Count: 4280

You really should have thought this through better.

That was your first thought after the cargo net stopped swinging, and you regained a modicum of composure. You winced at the sound of the net’s straps creaking under the strain as you tried to shift your weight and then froze. You remained completely motionless, afraid to even breathe, for several more moments.

“Shit...” you whispered in a quaking voice, peering down at the floor of the cargo hold several meters below you. You then glanced up at the winch mechanism above your head, praying it held. How in the hell were you going to get yourself out of this?

It had seemed like such a good plan at the time. You had just stepped out of the Kom’rik’s small ‘fresher, having showered and changed into your sleep shirt before bed, when you’d felt the ship drop out of hyperspace with a small lurch. You heard something clatter in the cargo hold below and blew out a tired sigh, knowing it was probably nothing but also knowing you wouldn’t be able to rest until you checked it out.

Grumbling under your breath, you had climbed down into the hold. Only the emergency lights were on, the ceiling and corners hidden in shadow, but you spotted something lying near a tier of shelves attached to the hull’s interior wall. It was one of the kid’s favorite cookies, the teal ones with the creme filling. Peering up into the gloom, you spied an opened foil sleeve of cookies perched on the edge of the highest shelf.

“How the hell did he even get up there?” you said aloud, shaking your head. Jedi training aside, the kid was far too much like his dad, a little risk-taker. You heaved a sigh, with no small amount of exasperation. 

Stars only knew what else he had left up there. Come to think of it, you had given him your datapad earlier to watch cartoons and hadn’t seen it since. Sighing in frustration, you began looking for a way to reach the top shelf. The propulsor lift was still charging, so that was a no-go, and you didn’t see a ladder of any sort that wasn’t attached to the ship already.

And then you had spied the cargo net.

It was dangling by its hooks from a mechanized winch and pulley system attached to the ceiling. It was used to keep extra containers suspended above the floor to free up space, its track running the entire circuit of the area for maneuverability and convenience. Designed to hold several hundred kilograms, you were certain it could support your own weight. You could use it to lift yourself up to the shelf, retrieve whatever was up there and then lower yourself back to the ground. Easy peasy, jogan squeezy.

Detaching the control pad for the winch from the wall, you climbed inside the net, lacing an arm through the holes for a better grip, and then planted your bare feet on the cross sections of the heavy straps. It was a bit shaky at first, but once you gained your balance, you quickly ascended until you were at eye level with the top shelf. Tucking the control pad under your chin, you reached up to feel your datapad under your fingertips and sniffed in amusement. You’d have to give Grogu a good talking-to in the morning, but for now you at least had your datapad back. Slipping it and the sleeve of cookies off the shelf, you shuffled the objects around, your grip on the net slackening.

It was then that the Kom’rik made another jump into hyperspace, making the ship jolt with the transition. You shrieked when the net began to swing wildly, feet slipping out from under you as you let go of everything in your hands to hang on for dear life. Panting for breath, heart thundering in your chest, you clung like a monkey-lizard to the straps and prayed the net didn’t break.

So, there you were, hanging above the hold like a piece over-ripe fruit, arms and legs entangled in the net with no way down, because, of course, you had dropped the winch’s control pad when you dropped everything else. You could see it lying on the floor below you, right next to the broken casing of your datapad.

“Shit!” you repeated, leaning your forehead against the straps and huffing out an angry breath. Could this situation get any worse, you wondered. You’d have to yell for Mando to come get you down, which you weren’t looking forward to, but who knew how long it would take before he even came back this way? What if decided to just sleep in the cockpit? Would you end up hanging there all night?

The thought made your awkward position in the net feel even more uncomfortable. Your feet had slipped through the holes, so your legs were now dangling under you, the straps cutting into the tender meat of your thighs. One of your arms was still threaded through the net while the other one was pinned close to your side. You could feel the cold air of the hold settling into your bones and making you shiver, the thin material of the tunic doing little to stave off the chill.

You knew that the longer you hung there, the colder you were going to get, the number your limbs were going to grow. Your feet were already stinging and your teeth chattering. There was no help for it. You had to call for Mando.

“MANDO!!!”

Your voice bounced back at you, making your flinch. Holding your breath, you waited to hear his boots thudding against the metal floor overhead, but nothing. He hadn’t heard you.

“MAANN-DDOO! HEEELP!”

You waited. Still nothing.

Oh, stars, maybe he had fallen asleep in the cockpit. after all. With the door sealed, he would never hear you. Panic began to creep in, shortening your breath as it constricted your lungs.

“MANDO! PLEASE! I’M STUCK IN THE HOLD! MAN-DOO!!!”

“What the hell are you doing?”

You heard his voice coming through the ship’s comm system and could have cried in relief. You’d forgotten the cams located throughout the ship. Stars, he’d probably been watching you this whole time. You were never in danger.

“I... I’m stuck, Mando.”

A gravelly bark echoed in the hold before turning to static. Great. He was laughing at you. “Obviously. Listen, I need to recheck the coordinates in navi and set the autopilot, then I’ll come get you down. Just, uh, hang tight,” he drawled, another garbled sound slipping out of his vocoder.

You bit your tongue to keep from saying something you might regret. You were in no position to taunt or snark back at him right now. “Fine,” you mumbled, and slumped into the net.

It was only a few minutes before the sound of his heavy boots were thudding across the metal floor above you, his footsteps music to your ears. You heard the clang of his armor hitting against the ladder before he slid down into view, feet landing with a solid thump in the hold. He approached at a leisurely pace, seemingly in no hurry, then stopped to stare up at you. His helmet tilted back, black visor glinting in the low light. Planting his hands on his hips, he tipped his head, first to one side and then to the other.

“M-Mando? What’re you doing? Can you get me down now, please?”

Mando hummed, his stance shifting. His arms dropped down to his sides, hands curling into fists. “You must be getting pretty cold, huh?”

You bunched your brows up in consternation. “Um... yeah? It’s fr-freezing down here.”

He nodded slowly, keeping his visor trained on you. “Hmm. Thought so. You’re not wearing anything but my old tunic. It’s not covering much. Is it?”

You quirked a brow at the change in his voice. His smooth baritone had dropped an octave or three, and it had a distinctive husk to it now. His tone was the one he used when the two of you were alone with the lights off and he was taking you apart, dark and sinfully seductive. It made you squirm despite your precarious position, and the net began to slowly sway back and forth. The edge of a strap slid into the crease where your thigh met your hip, and you felt your lower lips part. A low groan issued from his vocoder. Your mouth fell open.

Sweet Maker, your pussy was on full display for him. You hadn’t bothered with underwear after your shower, planning on putting on a clean pair once you got back to your sleeping quarters. Heat surged through your body, both from embarrassment and unexpected arousal.

“Mando...” Your voice sounded so small and breathy in the cavernous space.

“I can see everything, pretty girl,” he told you, taking an unconscious step closer. He was almost directly under you now, peering straight up at your exposed sex. Mortified, you felt the slow trickle of your arousal easing out of your channel. You weren’t dripping, not yet, but the thought of him standing beneath you, staring at your most vulnerable parts had your breath panting out in little puffs. “You... Are you going to... get me down, now?”

You heard the back of his gauntlet scrape the metal floor as he picked up the control pad for the winch. His breath was rasping through his vocoder, the sound of leather creaking as he moved underneath you. You felt the winch catch and then begin to whir as the net began to lower back to the floor.

“Thank the stars,” you whispered, anxious to be back on solid ground again.

You didn’t quite make it, though. You were still a few meters above the floor when the winch came to a sudden stop, leaving you to sway like the pendulum of a run-down clock. “M-Mando?”

“Look so pretty like this, sweet girl,” he murmured below you, and you felt his gloved fingers trail across the back of your thigh. You gasped at the contact. “Close your eyes,” he husked out, voice gone to gravel.

You didn’t even bother to ask why, just snapped your eyes shut and held your breath, waiting. You heard the slap of leather on the floor, guessing it must be his gloves he’d just taken off, and then you felt his bare fingers tracing the straps that dug into your thighs. His fingertips grazed along the edge where the strap met the skin, the sensation making you tense as heat spiraled in your belly, diffusing through your pelvis to spread in a hot rush of slick that trickled out to cool along the petals of your open folds.

“Oh, mesh’la,” Mando cooed, dark and low. “You’re dripping for me, pretty girl.”

A whine escaped your lips, breath catching in your throat as you felt his fingers slide through your arousal, gathering your essence on his fingertips. There was the pneumatic hiss of air as his helmet disengaged and then the ring of beskar ricocheted around the hold as he dropped it to the floor. You could hear the lewd, wet noises he made as he suckled his own fingers, moaning at the taste of you.

“Don’t move, baby girl.”

“Oh, Maker...” you whimpered in a quaking whisper.

You could feel your walls clenching in anticipation. Mando had never used his mouth on you before, said he’d never gone down on anyone before, but as the winch whirred back into motion only to grind to a stop again a moment later, you guessed you were about to find out if this would be his first time.

When you felt his hair tickle the backs of your thighs, an eruptive shudder passed through your entire body. When his nose grazed over your clit, you jolted in the confines of the straps hard enough to send the net swaying, but he caught you and brought you back to center.

“Sh-shh... Easy, baby girl. I got you...” He paused, sniffed. “Fuck, you smell so good,” he hissed out in a rush, and you heard him inhale, could feel his nose right at your parted lips. It was so filthy, so obscene, what he was doing, but it made you quiver with lust, just the same.

His hands came up to grip your ankles, holding you in place. “That’s better,” he murmured, hot breath gusting over your damp folds, eliciting another shiver from you. “Let me hear you, pretty girl. Want to know how good I’m making you feel. Okay?”

You nodded your head furiously, swallowing in an attempt to bring a bit of moisture back into your parched mouth. “Y-Yeah. Okay, Mando.” You didn’t even care that it came out as a whine.

The first touch of his tongue had you choking on air, hips stuttering, not sure whether to rock forward or away from the lapping muscle, but his strong hands held you fast, not letting your squirm away. He dragged his tongue in a slow, hot line from your entrance to your clit, and you moaned like a porn star. You could feel his cheeks bunch up as he grinned at your reaction, and then he flicked his tongue over your pulsing clit again, pulling a sputtering,” Ha-aaa-aaah!” from your gaping mouth.

“You like it when I do that?” he purred lowly into your folds. “What about when I do this?” He enveloped the sensitive bud with his lips, tongue flickering over it with feather-light touches, making you writhe and grind against his mouth. He groaned, then suctioned his lips around it and sucked, pressing his tongue firmly against it. Your plaintive wail echoed throughout the ship.

“Fuck me...” he moaned, panting for breath, his voice shaking. He was completely wrecked. With a desperate snarl, he dove back in with a vengeance, tongue laving your inner folds, twirling around your entrance, lapping at your juices before kissing and sucking at your puffy, parted lips. He was devouring you whole, winding the coil in your core into a taut vibrating spring of tension. Your thighs were shaking uncontrollably, your breaths wheezing out of your lungs in desperate pants.

“Mando! Mando, I...” 

You couldn’t even voice a coherent thought, couldn’t tell him what was about to happen, but he seemed to understand, nevertheless. His fingers slid along your pulsing folds to catch at the rim of your entrance, circling it once before slipping inside. Your walls immediately clamped onto the digits, muscles undulating to pull them deeper. He growled at the feeling and latched onto your clit again crooking his fingers in a come-hither motion, the strokes sharp and quick as they tapped out a devastating tattoo against the spongy membrane of your G-spot.

The world went white behind your pinched eyelids, and you weren’t even aware of the choked scream that tore out of your throat as you were blindsided by your orgasm. The spring in your core gave way with a snap and warmth flooded from your center to gush out around his fingers and over his arm, splattering his lower face, cowl and chest plate.

“Ha!” he crowed. “That’s it! Fuck yes!”

You were barely hanging on, your very bones liquefied as you twitched and groaned with each consecutive pulse of your climax. If you had oozed out through the holes in the net to pool at his feet, you wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised.

“So fuckin’ good, for me. Look at that. Fuck, I need — nngh!”

You heard the motor of the winch whir back into life, then felt the cold sensation of the floor touch the bottom of your feet. You couldn’t have held up your own weight if your life depended on it, however, and so folded up with the netting as it came to rest on the floor. Strong hands lifted you out the mess of straps, hands moving over you, manipulating you as he whispered feverish words in Mando’a  like some fervent benediction.

You felt your back come to rest on top of the netting, the worn fabric of his cape spread out beneath you to serve as a barrier against the rough material. You had yet to open your eyes, jaw slack as you floated somewhere high above your physical body in a state of pure bliss.

Mando placed his calloused hand over your eyes, unwilling to test fate more than he already had. He felt crazed, rabid with lust, his only desire to be buried balls-deep in your cunt.

“Need to feel you, sweet girl,” he gasped at your ear, his breath stuttering against your neck. “Please, I need — “

“Yes! Stars, please, Mando. Want to feel you inside me. Do it...”

He whimpered as he lifted himself away long enough to scrabble at the closure of his pants, shoving them down with his underwear to the top of his thigh plates, a frustrating exercise to complete one-handed. When his cock sprang free of its confines, he moaned in relief, pumping it roughly a couple of times as he spread his leaking precrum over the head with his thumb. With a grunt, he fell between your thighs, notching himself at your entrance, inhaling a deep breath before he sank into your greedy, grasping cunt with an audible squelch.

“Fuuuckin’ hellll...” he moaned out as he slid inside your fluttering walls, grunting again when he felt them collapse around his cock and seize it in a vice grip. It was a struggle to draw himself back, the sensation making his balls draw up tight against his body. “Too good... too tight... Gonna make me cum...” he mumbled under his breath, fighting off his orgasm. When he had withdrawn a about halfway, he couldn’t stand it anymore and plunged back in, thrusting hard enough to shift the netting beneath you.

You sobbed, the feeling of being so full overwhelming, your shaking legs coming up to wrap around his hips, ankles locking over the flexing muscles of his ass. He was driving into you with abandon, the toes of his boots squeaking on the floor to find purchase, bracing his body against yours. His other arm he shoved under your back, fingers hooking over your shoulder to pull you down on his cock to meet each hard thrust. He was growling, muttering curses in multiple languages, hissing as you clenched and pulsed around him.

“Ah, fuck, sweet girl, I’m gonna — Shit! Fuck, baby, where do you want — “

“Inside... Want to feel you cum in me...” you moaned out, another orgasm rising like a massive wave in your core. “Ah, fuck!” you whined.

Your words snapped that last thread of control he had, and he surged forward, thrusting in wild, arhythmic strokes that sent you careening over the edge. Your climax washed over you like a euphoric wave, slow and liquid, a golden warmth that engulfed your lower half before spreading like molten honey.

Mando could feel your walls clamp down and spasm, milking his cock, drawing him in deeper. He threw his head back and came with a bellow, a primal, jagged roar of triumph. His chest lifted as his back arched, his cock exploding inside your walls, pumping ribbons of his thick seed deep into your hungry cunt.

He barely managed to throw an arm out to catch himself before falling forward. He was trembling above you. and when his elbow buckled, his head fell to your chest. His nose was smooshed into the side of your breast, his panting breaths teasing the sensitive bud of your nipple into a hard little nub beneath the thin material of his tunic. He gave a dazed grin at the sight, wishing he had the energy to take it in his mouth, but he wasn’t sure he could even lift his head yet.

“Stars, pretty girl. I think you’ve killed me.”

A breathless wheeze of laughter burst out of your chest, and you reached up to pull down the hand now splayed limp over your face to your lips. You left a lingering kiss in the palm as you crooked your other arm over your eyes, just so the temptation to peek wouldn’t get the best of you. You felt him lift his head with reluctance, his weight shifting, before his lips pressed to yours in a sweet, chaste kiss.

“You alright? I know I went pretty hard this time. I didn’t mean to lose it like that, but — “

Your hand came up to touch his face, landing on his neck instead. You slid it upward to cup his jaw, the feel of his patchy beard against your palm endearing. “Don’t you dare apologize,” you told him and drew him down for another kiss. “It was perfect. The best I’ve ever had,” you whispered against his lips.

He sighed, smiling against your mouth in relief and pleasure. When he shifted again, he saw you grimace. “Did I hurt you, sweet girl?” he rushed to ask, lifting his weight off you.

You giggled and shook your head. “No, it’s not that. There’s something cold and sticky all over your chest plate. It feels... icky.”

He glanced down to see your release from earlier smeared over his beskar, and he chuckled, low and dirty. “That’s your fault,” he teased. “You drowned me when you came the first time.”

Your mouth dropped open and, if not for his hand coming down to hold your arm in place, you would have jerked it away from your eyes to stare at him in shock. “I did not!” you gasped. mortified.

“Oh, you did, pretty girl,” he crooned. “I want to make you do it again.”

“What? N-Now?!”

A full-on laugh rumbled out of his chest this time. “No, sweet girl. As much as I’d love to, I don’t either one of us is going to be able to go another round after that last one.”

“Oh, thank the Maker,” you blurted out, and then winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean —”

He sniffed in amusement and pecked you on the lips. “I know what you meant, mesh’la.” Sitting back on his knees, he rubbed at his face, grinning at the sticky feel of your spend drying in his mustache. He was positively covered in your cum, and he fucking loved it. His poor cock gave a valiant twitch before he tucked it back into his pants and stood. “C’mon, sweet girl. Let’s get in the shower.” He retrieved his helmet, slipping it back on before bending to take you by the hand.

You groaned. “Just lemme sleep here. Can’t move right now.”

“You’ll freeze down here,” he chided you. “Now come on. I’ll help you.”

You whined as he hauled you onto your feet, and you staggered on your shaking legs. He shook his head and turned his back to you, bending his knees slightly. “Hop on. I’ll carry you up the ladder. Otherwise, we will be down here all night.”

You made a face at him, but wrapped your arms around his neck anyway, making a weak hop to get onto his back. Grasping your thighs, he hitched you up a little higher and stood, then trudged towards the ladder at the opposite end of the hold.

“Oh, stars,” you moaned out behind him, dropping your forehead to his back. “Do you think we woke Grogu? We were, uh... ahem... We were, you know, a little loud,” you whispered.

“Well, the ship’s still flying, and I didn’t hear anything break while we were down here, so I’m going to say no.”

You giggled. “He’s gonna get it tomorrow morning,” you vowed. “He was the reason I got caught up in that stupid net in the first place. He somehow managed to get on that top shelf with a whole sleeve of cookies and my datapad.” You paused, moaned again. “Shit. My datapad. It broke when I dropped it.”

“Don’t worry, mesh’la. We’ll get you another one, and I’ll talk to Grogu myself tomorrow morning, right after breakfast. Okay?”

You sighed, a little grin tugging at your lips. “Okay.” You heaved a sigh, tightening your grip when Mando started to climb up the ladder. “I know one thing. I’m burning that stupid net when we get back to Nevarro.”

Mando huffed and shook his head. “Like hell you are. We’re bringing that home with us. It’s going up in the bedroom, right above the bed.”

You gasped in shock, rearing your head back. “Mando!”

His rumbling chuckle bounced off the metal walls of the ship, and a warmth like the sun bloomed in your chest as a smile as big as the Dune Sea spread across your face.

“Okay, fine. We’ll discuss the cargo net later. But right now, I want a shower.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mando purred, and you could hear the grin in his voice. Taking your hand, he led you into the ‘fresher.

Despite Mando’s earlier doubts, you found out that you both did indeed have another round left in you.

(End notes: Just wanted to mention @saradika because she created the dividers and banners I’m using. She makes them for free. You can check out her masterlist on her blog. Her fics are *chef’s kiss* too.) 

#din djarin x fem reader #mando x fem reader #din x fem reader #mandalorian x fem reader #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #din x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #mando smut #din djarin smut #mando fic #mandalorian fanfic

[sirowsky]

A Little Menace 2

That didn't take me very long. Thank you guys for all the love for part 1, it was massively inspiring :)

Rating: Mature Warnings: ornithophobia (fear of birds), cursing, yearning, more improper thoughts, modern!din, din djarin x female reader, no use of y/n, no description of reader. Human boy Grogu. Word Count: 2518 Author’s Masterlist

Link to Part 1 Link to Part 3 Link to Part 4 Link to Part 5

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   Your doorbell rings at almost exactly 5pm, and you have to stop yourself from running to the hall with excitement.    Even though you’ve changed outfits five times and gone over every inch of it before settling on this one, you still check your appearance one last time in the hallway mirror, before opening the door.

   “Hi, guys!” you call out a little too loudly, your excitement spilling into the two short words and quickly overflowing. But you’ve been waiting all day and now they’re finally here, Grogu’s response being a reserved but polite smile, while Din is grinning almost as wide as you, making that pleasant warmth return to your stomach.

   “Hey. Good to see you again.” he responds softly, instantly making your knees weaken.

   “Likewise. Please, come in.” you offer, stepping aside to let them pass before closing the door behind them.

   They’re not wearing any shoes since it wasn’t exactly a long walk over, so you invite them into the living room without pause and then immediately set to work. Partly because you don’t want to give the kid enough time to start doubting whether he’ll be able to do this, and partly to distract yourself from the fact that his father smells intoxicating.    Had he trimmed his patchy little scruff of beard since yesterday? And who the fuck had told him that it was okay to wear a white Henley over those arms and chest?

   You wonder if it’s deliberate. If he knows exactly how that shirt accentuates his form and is being passively flirty. The way his jeans hug his ass and thighs makes you think yes, definitely deliberate.    Not that you ogled him while he made his way into the living room, or anything. (Yeah, right…)

   “Okay, Grogu, listen to me. I know you’re worried, but the first thing I want you to know, is that I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise. Do you believe me?” you ask, putting a hand on his shoulder, and he meets your eyes.

   He looks nervous, but seems to want to trust you, and after a few beats, he nods.    You take his hand and gently tug him along towards the balcony, stopping by the open door and kneeling next to him.    The feeder sits five feet above the ground, so its fully visible above the metal lower third of the glass walls that enclose the balcony, and the smaller birds are in the middle of their evening feeding routine. Another half-hour and they’ll all be gone for the day.

   However, the metal partition does hide the larger birds, hopping around on the ground, so the kid shouldn’t have to endure his worst fears on this first attempt to help him overcome his fear of them.    You don’t say anything at first, you just watch him closely, gaging his reactions and trying to learn just how frightened he is, how slow you’ll need to take this and where his hard limits are.

   “If you get really scared, just tell me and we’ll close the door, okay?” you say, and he nods slowly, keeping his eyes on the little finches, tits, thrushes, sparrows and robins, darting back and forth from the feeder.

   “See that little yellow one? That’s a yellowhammer. It actually lives about half a mile away at the edge of a big field, but because it hasn’t been a great year for grass-harvests, it’s been struggling to find enough food to feed its family. So, it comes here about three times a week to top up on quality grains.” you explain, and he follows the little bird with his eyes.

   You keep going like that for a few minutes, pointing out the different species and their characteristics until he seems perfectly at ease. Then you crawl on your hands and knees past the doorway and out onto the balcony, whispering for him to do the same, and he drops down and makes a show of being discreet and silent.    You crawl right up to the sliding door that leads out there, and he bravely follows, trusting that you won’t open it, so you take him in your arms and whisper in his ear.

   “They can’t see us through the glass, but just in case, move slowly and only peer over the edge.”

   Your conspiring tone makes him giggle, despite his nervousness, and he mirrors your movements as you slowly raise your head above the metal edge, just enough that you can see over it.    And when one of the birds turns its head towards you, you gasp theatrically.

   “Do you think it sees me?”

   He snickers and drops his head down below the edge again.

   “No, no it’s gone back to eating. It didn’t see me. Phew.” you exhale, dropping down next to him with a smile. “Do you think that’s enough for today, tough guy?”

   He nods, but still with a big grin on his face and you point towards the door, mouthing ‘go’ at him and following him when he crawls back into the apartment, where Din has taken a seat on the sofa where he could see the whole thing.    He’s smiling too, breaking into a laugh as his son gets up and jumps into his lap, clearly pleased with himself for getting so close to the birds.

   “Great job, kid! Was it scary?” he asks, while you get up and close the balcony door to help the boy feel safe.

   Grogu nods and hugs his dad, who chuckles and looks at you with sparkling eyes, making your knees wobbly again, so you sit down on your coffee table in front of the sofa, to keep from falling over.    Christ, he’s even more beautiful today somehow.    How in the hell are you gonna be able to do this every day without jumping his bones at some point?

   “You did really good, Grogu. I’m proud of you.” you say softly, and the boy lets go of his father’s neck and turns towards you with a proud grin, and even though he doesn’t say a word, you know what he’s anticipating. And you see no reason to keep him waiting. “So, how about we break open that box of LEGO now?”

   His eyes go wide and he all but leaps out of Din’s lap and runs across the floor, over to your work desk where the big cardboard box is sitting underneath it.

   “Hey, wait for me you rascal!” you call after him, earning you a fresh bout of giggles as you get up and chase him.

   The construction is too big for the desk, so you bring it back to the sofa and the wide expanse and sturdy nature of the oak coffee table, where you let him do the honours of breaking into the box.    You wouldn’t have thought that a kid so young would be this good at something this advanced, and you watch in amazement as he slowly and methodically follows the instructions, while you and Din mostly just support him by helping him find pieces and interpreting some of the more difficult instructions.

   “How old is he?” you ask his father, while Grogu’s focused on a hunt for a tiny black piece that he needs to find before he can move on.

   “Six, but he looks smaller than that, I know.”

   “He also looks a lot smarter than that.” you say, not even trying to hide the impressed tone that seeps into your words, and Din preens at the compliment.

   “Thank you. Most people think he’s kinda strange. Cute and lovable, but unusual. And I can’t really blame them because he kinda is, but he’s also so clever. He picks things up in no time, and even though he doesn’t speak much, he’s already the best in his class at spelling and word comprehension.    He already has a basic grasp of maths and geometry, and his memory is incredible.”

   The look in his eyes as he watches his son is undeniable unconditional love, and it makes something inside you want to claim him.    It’s a primal thing, something to do with your brain registering him as a good provider and wanting to keep him, fully prepared to let him mark you as his in order to have him. But knowing that makes no difference.    Suddenly your skin is crawling and heating where you sit next to him on the sofa, your eyes locked on his plush lips, as if trying to will him into noticing your desire.

   But when you don’t say anything, he turns to look at you, and your brain snaps back to reality. You quickly turn your attention on the kid again, working away on the opposite side of the table, while every inch of you is still drawn to the man.    Leaning forwards and taking a few deep breaths, you do your best not to peer at Din from the corner of your eye, to see if he noticed your exaggerated interest.

   “How’s it going, Grogu? Need any help?” you ask, feebly attempting to mask the tremor in your voice with a nervous disaster of a cough, resulting in the very worst outcome you can imagine.

   Because instead of realizing that your nervousness is because of him, Din seems to assume that you’re struggling with something else and tries to soothe you by putting a hand on your back, between your shoulder-blades.

   “Is something wrong?” he asks, leaning closer with concern evident in his voice.

   He’s just being kind and caring, but his touch is sending streaks of hot cravings through your body, setting every nerve alight and flooding you with a tingling that’s altogether way to pleasurable to be anywhere near appropriate.    You bounce out of your seat, way too fast, and since you’ve been sitting there for over two hours straight, you end up having a sudden blood-pressure drop, swaying where you stand as the room falls out of focus.

   Your skin tingles in a very different and highly unpleasant way now, as you dip your head and bow down, putting your hands on the tabletop while you wait for the spinning to ease up.    And of course, he’s right there, now with both hands on you, one returned to the same spot on your back and the other carefully but firmly gripping your nearest shoulder, to keep you from toppling over in any direction.

   “Ugh, I hate that.” you groan, while gradually righting yourself up, doing your very best not to slap his hands away. Or worse, pull him closer.

   “Are you alright?”

   Still such genuine concern, even though he barely knows you.    Stupidly, you turn your head to the side to look at him, finding him so close now that if you leaned forwards, your nose would bump into his chin. Inhaling his scent, not perfumed but clean, some residual essence from his soap maybe, but mostly just him, your brain once again falters.

   “God, you’re beautiful…” you hear yourself say, before the mist clears and your mind abruptly starts working again.

   You don’t panic, but your stomach drops and something cold moves through your blood as shame crashes over you. This is so blunt and completely unlike you, and even though it is a compliment, it’s tactless and more than a little improper, especially in front of his son.

   But then Din smiles, flashing a sweet dimple and it infects you as you recognize the same bashfulness that you’d seen in him out in the stairway yesterday, and he dips his head forwards to hide from you, just as you’d done when he’d said your name.    You don’t dare to assume that he’s feeling the same level of attraction as you are, opting to ascribe his embarrassment to the general awkwardness of the situation instead.

   “I’m sorry, that was… I didn’t mean to say that. Not that it isn’t true!” you fumble through your own thoughts and try to explain better. “I just didn’t mean to say it out loud.” as if that sounds any better… “Wow, I’m gonna shut up now before I bury us both under a mountain of awkwardness.”

   He chuckles, still with his head bowed.

   “No, that’s okay.” he says softly, then raises his head just enough to shyly peer at you through his eyelashes. “Thank you.”

   And there go your knees again, turning all squishy and wobbly. Damn it.    Willing them to work, you step back and clear your throat, addressing both your guests.

   “Well, this was fun, but I think we’re gonna have to pick it back up tomorrow.”

   Grogu makes an unhappy noise at that, the first sound beyond laughter that you’ve ever heard from him, and his father goes to kneel next to him, where he’s working away on the LEGO, although still only maybe a twentieth of the way to completion.

   “Hey, buddy, don’t worry. We’ll be back tomorrow.” he says, but the kid’s face turns sad, and you can see Din’s heart break a little, knowing that he’s gonna have to drag his son away from the puzzle.

   You sit down next to Grogu and beckon him to meet your eyes.

   “I promise that I’m not gonna touch anything until you get back. That was the deal, right? You come and learn about the birds, and we work on The Falcon together. Okay?” you ask, and he perks up a little.

   He nods, and Din mouths a silent thanks behind his son’s back, so you wink in return before all of you get up and move to the front hall.    You open your door for them, and linger, watching as Din lets Grogu into their apartment and then turns back to you.

   “Do you think we could…” he pauses, his eyes darting off to the side for a moment before he seems to chuckle at himself. “Would it be terribly improper for me to suggest that all three of us have dinner together tomorrow?”

   You blink, struggling to absorb what he’s asking at first.

   “Oh…” is all you can muster, until it dawns on you that that’s not an answer. “Y-yeah, that sounds lovely. I can cook, if you like.” you finally manage, and he grins.

   “Sure, I won’t turn that down. Can we come over as soon as we get home, then? Around 4pm?” he asks, almost timidly, but with a quiet confidence hiding behind the words.

   You nod, unable to coerce your voice into making any more sounds, because suddenly you’re wondering if he really did misread your reaction to his touch, or if it was all entirely deliberate.    Had he noticed the craving you had to be radiating at him, and decided to test you?

   “I look forward to picking things up where we left off…” he trails off with a smile, leaving that sentence lingering heavy in the air between you, all but confirming your suspicions, before calmly closing his door.

   You stand there, staring at the blank wood, trying to remember how to breathe, and wondering how in the hell you’re gonna survive being around him for a full hour longer tomorrow.

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Thank you for reading, and feel free to criticize, I’m always looking to learn and grow as a writer.

@deadhumourist @idreamofboobear @tanzthompson @winter-fox-queen @tiffanyleen @shsoba05 @toomanystoriessolittletime @nolanell @myfavpedrothings @harriedandharassed @bruxasolta @tintinn16 @pedrostories @littlemisspascal @sj-draws00 @gallowsjoker @spishsstuff @little-mrs-morales

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