#yeah i just wanted to gif mando

[sinsofsummers]

push & pull

5.7k | din djarin x f!reader

summary: after convincing him to help you hide from the guild, you teach mando how to enjoy himself. this is the way. warnings: smut (duh), 18+, mdni. canon-typical violence, but otherwise it's super canon divergent. din is a touch-starved virgin, soft touches, lap-sitting, the helmet stays on, mask kink, din does lots of whimpering, experienced!reader, mutual masturbation, virginity loss (m), praise kink, creampie, brief aftercare at the end. note: look me in the eye and tell me he wouldn't crumble at the thought of skin-to-skin contact. yeah. you can't. anyways this is so long and so self-indulgent. pls forgive me. if mando takes his helmet off by the end of this, mind ur business this is sooooo not canon. note p.2: i'm so sorry this took so long but i was hungover. also this was not meant to be this long. so count this as a big fat thank you for 1.4k as well as my bday present to you guys (for my bday.) impaired editing i apologize.

With the light of both suns in your eyes, forcing you to blink the spots from your vision, you brushed a hand across your forehead. The dry, dusty atmosphere of Tatooine was no joke, and you scowled under the cloth you'd brought with you to cover your mouth and nose.

"Figures," you mumbled to yourself, looking down to see a small pile of sand building on the tops of your boots, the wind blowing it into place. "Why would anyone choose to live here?"

Of course, you weren't looking for a resident; you were looking for a fugitive. The infamous Mandalorion, no less. You'd been given less-than-satisfactory information on the bounty hunter and the reasons for such a high reward for his capture, but it wasn't like you had much choice than to accept the job. Despite what you told yourself, you did actually need the money.

That was before you'd figured out that everyone else in the Guild had been tasked with the same job, turning a high stakes bounty hunting gig into a near-definite suicide mission. Something you didn't want anything to do with.

But alas, here you stood, practically sinking into the hot Tatooine desert. You had to keep shifting your weight to keep at least one foot above the surface. You never knew when you'd have to make a quick getaway. There were still a handful of Guild members left that presented a challenge to collecting your bounty, and of course they were the most dangerous ones.

You kicked a foot forward and watched the sand shift, cursing the trouble that was inevitably on its way. You'd managed to bribe your way to Tatooine, where the Mandalorian was apparently hiding from the Guild. And if you had found the Mandalorian, there was almost no possibility that the others hadn't found him.

Because, if you were being honest with yourself—the one task you excelled in—being a bounty hunter wasn't exactly something you were good at. In fact, you were far from it. With luck and just enough anxiety to keep your feet moving, you'd floundered your way through three years in the Guild, searching for a way out just as quickly as you'd begged for a way in.

So you'd gotten yourself into this mess. Wasn't that how it normally went, though? Quick decision-making skills weren't necessarily a blessing if the decisions you made would determine your chances of living past thirty (spoiler: the chances were significantly slimmer).

You rubbed the dust out of your eyes once more and saw some movement in the distance, the subtle glint of beskar blinking toward you as it reflected the sunlight. Gotcha, you murmured inwardly. The Mandalorian was here, and you were going to get him. Not to turn him in, no; you held no loyalty to the Guild and its cult-like policies.

This job was an escape mission. If he could stay hidden, maybe he had room for one more. You'd cut a deal.

There had to be something you could offer him, if not your skills in combat, or stealth, or—

Or simply human mobility, you groaned inwardly as you felt your ankle roll underneath you, the sand softer than you'd anticipated. It'll be a good day when I leave this damn place.

—

It was a wonder that the two of you had survived. You'd hardly gotten the chance to give your proposal before he was aiming his blaster at you, and then at the Guild members that showed up in droves behind you. It was all you could do to get out of the way, knowing you'd be hopeless in the fight.

Now, with their bodies scattered around your feet, the Mandalorian standing a few feet from you with his chest heaving, and his beloved ship somehow still functional, you had your chance.

"You're not...very good at this," he said, the helmet masking his voice in a way that made it scratch along the insides of your ears as it traveled to your brain. "You do know that?" he asked, but it sounded more like an accidental insult than a real question.

You threw your hands up, letting them fall heavily to your sides. "Yeah, I told you that," you scoffed. "That's why I'm asking to go with you. Wherever you're headed."

His head tilted, the beskar shining in the setting suns, and you wondered what his eyes looked like under that helmet. Would they be sparkling with mirth or lined with mockery?

"I thought you were kidding," he said sheepishly, shifting his weight. "To get me to underestimate you." He looked like the picture of careful relaxation, although his blaster was still held tightly in both hands, poised in case he needed to aim and fire.

You couldn't help the exasperation in your tone as you lifted your head to the sky, squeezing your eyes shut and placing a curled fist over your eyes. "Why would I do that when I don't want to turn you in?"

He didn't answer.

"You know that there's only two ways out of this, right?" He still didn't answer you, just held his blaster taut and his head tilted to the side, so you continued. "You killed every Guild member that's left. Now it's just you and I. If I don't bring you in—which I'm not exactly dying to do—those rich fucks that are more powerful than us are gonna come find us."

"Find you," he corrected. "Why would I want to add another target to my ship?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, they probably will. But that's only part of the first option. Either they come for me, and you leave me here, and I die—also something I'm not particularly thrilled to think about—or the two of us..." you gestured with your hands to imitate the pair of you getting on the Razor Crest and flying away from Tatooine and its dusty expanse of a landscape.

"Could be a third option," he said quietly, "if you think about it." He lifted his blaster until it was lined up with your chest. "I might just kill you and cut my losses."

Fear might have struck you, but you didn't have the energy to entertain the panic unspooling in your chest. "That wouldn't be very humanitarian of you. Besides," you insisted, hands lifting to portray the image of surrender, "I'm light. I'm quiet. I won't stay with you longer than I need to. Once you get me off this planet, I'll find a place for you to drop me off."

He didn't answer for a moment.

"Literally," you pushed once more, "you can open the back door and push me out for all I care. I just want out of the Guild and all their dumb shit."

You'd known Mandalorians to be quiet, pious, and ruthless, but something about the way his helmet betrayed no hint to what he was thinking or how he might respond...it made you more anxious than you'd ever been in your life. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm. "Well...you're not coming with me. Ship's full."

"Your ship?" you said, incredulous. "That thing would be gone without me."

"Damn luck, that was." His voice had gone hard, but his body was still.

This was...partially true. Your mind flashed with a memory of the way you'd accidentally pulled the trigger on one of your blasters, effectively stunning the last Guild member who'd been attempting to strap explosives to the hull of the Crest. It was the only good thing that you'd done all day.

You curled your lip, annoyance rippling off you in waves. Lifting a middle finger in front of the helmet, you scowled. Hope he can see this under all that beskar, you snarled inwardly. "Still counts."

With a soft huff that you could hear come from under his helmet, the Mandalorian lowered his blaster. "One jump into hyperspace. The first little space rock that's big enough to stand on—"

"Perfect," you interrupted firmly. "I'll be out of you...armor...soon enough."

—

You'd missed your stop about three years ago. One jump into hyperspace had turned into four, and then ten, and...now you had your own spot to rest your head at night on the Razor Crest.

On that first day, you hadn't known the Mandalorian—"Din Djarin," he'd introduced himself reluctantly one day—was still traveling with Grogu, the sweet child that had begun his journey across the galaxy, hiding from the Guild. But you'd quickly decided it was nice to have another partner in crime, to interact with whenever Din was in the middle of one of his quiet days.

As the days had turned into months, and subsequently into years, the inability to meet Din face-to-face had become less frustrating, although sometimes you wished you could sneak a glance at his hands, or his wrists, or something that might resemble the human underneath the armor.

Once in awhile, deliciously, you could tilt your head just the right way and look forward at him when he was in the cockpit, his helmet pulling away from the cloth under his armor. Between helmet and armor, a sliver of golden skin would glimmer back at you, just begging to be touched. Of course, you never gave in to your silent desires.

This was not the Mandalorian way; you knew this well. Even when you felt his head turned toward you, even when you were sure his hands were reaching for you when you needed his help climbing somewhere, you kept your distance.

Well, for as long as you could. Until he forced your hand.

It wasn't long before you were unable to keep your hands away from him; going up and down the ladder on the Crest, or climbing over the occasional boulder on the routes you walked along when forced to take a respite on an unknown planet. His gloves were always rough in your grip, but you couldn't ignore the way his hands seemed to squeeze yours, tighter than might have been necessary.

And you'd begun letting your hands linger on the beskar of his armor for moments longer than you should—his helmet, tracing the indented curves of the spot where his cheekbones rested underneath, or on his chestplate, where you swore you could feel him lean into you, as if pressing your hands closer and closer to his skin beneath the armor.

You stood beside him as he sat in the chair in the cockpit, guiding the Razor Crest through the galaxy once more, aiming for some undisclosed location he'd neglected to tell you. He usually did things like that; you'd learned not to be offended by his unbreakable instinct to keep things to himself.

It hadn't occurred to you just how long he'd been wearing that helmet until you looked toward him again and noticed the soft curl of a few brown strands of hair that crept from the edges, kissing the back of his neck. They were short strands, but they were long enough to wink up at you as they curled around each other, begging to be touched.

"Din?" you asked, hoping to distract yourself from the thought.

He didn't look at you, but he tilted his head in your direction, just a centimeter. It was enough.

"Why'd you let me stay with you?" you gripped your hands together, as if they had a mind of their own and couldn't be trusted to remain at your sides. "I was horrible at any aspect of being a bounty hunter."

You were used to the way that it always took him a few seconds to answer, coming up with an evenly-expressed response. This, of course, gave you more time to stare at the tendrils spilling from the edges of his helmet.

"You were a risk," he admitted with a shrug, the helmet (of course) not betrayed anything. His voice was calm, even as he continued softly. "I have a particular...proclivity for picking up foundlings," he said with a tilt of his head toward Grogu, who cooed at the mention of him.

You lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not a foundling, though."

If you could have seen his eyes, you were almost positive that they'd be giving you a look that said, are you sure? Instead, he only spoke in his perpetually smooth voice. "You were lost, though, mesh'la."

You still weren't sure what each word in Mando'a meant—he'd been dropping a few words here and there, as if he knew you couldn't interpret them—but you blushed all the same. Before you knew it, your hands were releasing their grip on one another and reaching up to comb through the curls at the base of his neck.

They were softer than you'd imagined; smooth and thick in your grip. "Alright," you said gently, "maybe I was. I never got to thank you, you know."

Your hands were moving on their accord now, silently twirling the curls around the tips of your fingers. You were used to his silent, immobile exterior, so you didn't think he'd be able to feel the way you pressed your hand to the back of his neck. He'd never said anything before that gave the impression that he was aware of your ministrations, so when he leaned back into your touch then, something strong and addiction bloomed in your gut.

When he spoke, you were surprised to hear how shaky his voice was. After three years of hearing nothing but steady syllables fall from his masked lips, you nearly flinched at the stutter in his voice.

"Thank me?" he said quietly. "For..." you could have sworn you felt his heartbeat flutter rapidly in his neck when he trailed off. "For what?"

You pulled your hand away, pretending not to notice the way he shuddered at the loss of touch, his shoulders slumping as if in a pained relaxation. You hid your smirk. "You're not seriously asking that, right? Without you, I'd probably be dead by now." Or worse, you reflected with a quiet pang in your chest.

Din's response was quick this time, an unusual—but not unwelcome—surprise. "And without your perfectly timed luck, I might be without a ship." His voice was thick, trembling with something that might have sounded like desire had it been someone else speaking.

You didn't even think Din had the capacity to know something as heavy as desire. Well, not that he was incapable of feeling desire, just...you'd never thought about what he might do if he did feel it. Would he shove the temptations down, destined to die in the corners of his mind and body?

Your cheeks warmed at your next thought. Perhaps he took care of it himself in the dead of night on the Razor Crest, or on those mysteriously long patrol walks that he insisted on doing alone.

"Yeah, well..." your answer was pitiful and you knew it. But you were too busy looking at the way his body was slumped in his seat, facing forward despite every limb beginning to turn toward you, as if you were a magnetic beacon.

His fingers twitched in his gloves, angling toward you just as his knees began to do the same thing. "Will you..." he trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Mesh'la," he breathed, and he leaned to the side, as if his shoulder was chasing your touch. "Put it back."

You were going to ask what he meant, but you didn't have to. Even with his helmet on, you could practically see the pleading in his body language. Here he was, a devout Mandalorian, begging you to put your hands back on him.

"Please," he said quietly, almost a question. It sounded so unlike him that you wondered briefly if he'd been killed and replaced with an imposter. But by the way that his hand trembled as he took his focus away from flying the Crest and moved it toward you...this was Din.

"You...okay?" you asked, but you obliged his request in return, replacing your hand at the base of his neck. You watched in an unfurling dizzying sense of satisfaction as he reached up his own gloved hand to cover yours, squeezing it gently. "Din," you started, but he shook his head.

"I've never disobeyed the Way of the Mandalore," he said, his voice muffled under the mask. You strained your eyes, wishing you could see beneath the beskar. "I've never wanted to. Not before..." he brought your hand around to rest on his chestplate, and you could feel the pressure of his chest leaning into your touch. "Not before I knew what it might feel like to want someone like this."

Your eyes widened, but you didn't pull your hand away. "You...what?"

His head tilted down. "For once, I don't know how to manage this." He stood up, and suddenly he was towering over you, the cloth under his armor making your fingers itch to tear it off. "How do I manage this?"

"I..." you couldn't hide your shock. "I don't know. It's...isn't it against your religion? It's not the Way."

Din shook his head. "No, it's not." He spread his hand down your wrist and extended it toward your own chest, the leather of his glove seeping into your skin. "But I've also never told anyone my name. Never heard it spoken since I was a child."

You swallowed roughly. "So?"

He huffed a chuckle. Lifting your hands to his helmet, he let your fingers find the divots of the beskar. You didn't miss the way his chest shuddered with a stuttering breath at your touch. "So," he said, "to hell with the Way. For tonight, at least. I need to know you in every way I wish I could."

Such a harrowing request, given the circumstances. But you couldn't stop your hands from tracing the lines of his masked face. "Din..."

"Please." His voice cracked over the single syllable, and it was all you needed.

To hell with the Way, your thoughts echoed his words, and you nodded softly. "Alright," you acquiesced. With one look down, you saw the tent growing in his pants, sending a spike of desire down your spine, settling in your core. "How'll you have me?" you asked.

He let out a soft noise that sounded like a whimper. "Any way that I can," he choked out, his hand returning to your wrist and enclosing it in his grip. "I'll have you any way you'll have me."

You could hardly speak, so you didn't. With a gentle nudge, you pushed him back into his seat. When he sat back, his legs fell open; there was an inviting space between them.

Standing in the spot, just inches from his face, you stared into the black mass of his helmet, hoping you'd get a glimpse of his face. Of course, you knew he would only go as far as he wanted to. If the mask was destined to remain, then...so be it.

With your eyes on his, you moved his hands to your waist, pressing them to your skin and enjoying the feeling of his leather against your body.

He shook his head. "Take them off," he said, again with that whimpering voice. "Please."

You nodded wordlessly and shed his hands of the barriers, heat pooling in your core at the sight of long, thick fingers, his skin finally exposed to you. Returning his hands to your waist, you tilted your head back at the sensation. You were never going to forget what his skin felt against yours.

The melody of shuddering breaths that fell from his lips was unreal, and you wanted to soak up every second of it. Without more than a second thought, you slid your legs over his, straddling his hips and pressing your chest to his chestplate. His hands remained on your waist, but he let them wander, curling them around to cup your ass.

The feeling of his hands on your body made you unconsciously roll your hips forward, which released a strangled moan from his lips. "Oh, god," he mumbled. "Mesh'la, please take it off."

You paused. Your hands fell to your lap, and your eyes were wider than saucers in the reflection of his helmet. "What?"

He picked up your hands in his own, the rub of skin against skin an intoxicating intimacy. "Please," he begged. "If I'm going to touch you like this, I need to see you, cyar'ika. Nothing in the way."

You were going to argue further, but you couldn't ignore the pulsing need that was clouding your thoughts, the same need that pushed your hips further down into his lap. It was impossible to miss the way his cock twitched against your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

“Are you—”

“Don’t fuckin’ ask me if I’m sure,” he begged, and he squeezed your hips under his hands. “Never been more sure, mesh’la.”

This time it was your turn to let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whispered, more to bolster your own confidence than his own. His resolve was clearly rather strong in this matter, and nothing would change his mind. 

With a hand on either side of the helmet, you gently pulled it up and away from his face, hardly able to believe that he’d agreed to let you rid him of his every barrier. For a moment, as each inch of skin was revealed to you, you caught yourself frantically wondering what he might look like. 

Would he look like anyone else? Would he look familiar to you in that way that only lovers can? Or would he be hiding a deformed brow bone or an abnormally small nose or a crude smile?

Of course, you shouldn’t have even worried. When the helmet lifted off of his head and you let it fall to the floor with a hard thud, you smiled at the face that blinked back at you in wonder. With those brown strands that were just long enough to hang down over his forehead, and the matching brown eyes that twinkled with the moonlight in his pupils, Din Djarin was exquisite.

“I knew it,” you hummed, your eyes tracing every line on his face, every strand of hair that clung charmingly to his forehead. 

His response was a strangled moan, and his eyes fluttered closed of their own accord when you dragged a finger along his jaw, then the hooked line of his nose. “Knew what?”

“I knew you’d be one of the pretty ones,” you grinned, and you leaned down to press your lips to his, swallowing his groan of ecstasy.

You drank it down like the sweetest liquor, the sound pulling your own moan from your chest. His lips were chapped and dry from lack of care, but his mouth was warm and wet and his tongue was deliciously shy as he darted it towards yours. His hands stuttered as they pressed further up your chest and felt for your breasts. You weren’t sure how long he’d last; his chest was already heaving. 

“Din,” you pulled back with a grin. “Din,” you repeated when his eyes remained closed. “Thought you wanted to look at me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice choking in his throat. “I do, mesh’la, I just…I think I might come in my damn suit if I look at those lips too long.”

You cooed, letting a hand search for the roots of his hair, finding a home on his scalp. You curled your fingers in the strands and watched his eyes squeeze shut, his jaw go slack, and felt his hips buck up into yours. “You’re so sensitive, baby,” you hummed, your mind running wild with thoughts of what this could mean. 

“Never been touched like this,” he mumbled, voice cracking again. “Feels perfect, mesh’la.”

“I need you to look at me, Din,” you nodded. “It’ll keep feeling good, I promise. I just need you to look at me.”

When his eyes opened, you could have fallen apart right there at the sight of his glassy brown depths. His lip quivered and you almost thought he’d cry, but then he was letting his hand fall from your chest to your waistband, trailing his thumb along the skin there. “Can I?” he asked gently. 

Nodding, you stood up. “Just keep breathing, pretty boy,” you said softly. “I’ll make you feel good. Show you just how good it can be.” You guided his hands to your waist and let him pull your pants to your ankles, revealing the front of your glistening slit to him. 

Din was just starting to understand the drug-like effects of physical touch, so you weren’t surprised when he leaned forward, fell to his knees, and pressed his forehead to the soft skin of your stomach, breathing deeply as if he were a zealot bent to pray at the altar. 

“C’mere,” you whispered, though unable to hide the growing smirk on your face. There seemed to be nothing more addicting than the sight of the Mandalorian on his knees before you. “Sit back down for me, baby,” you said, tilting his chin up to look at you. “Take those pants off, they look awfully restricting.”

He nodded quickly and obeyed, slipping his pants down to his knees as he sat back on his chair. It was downright sinful—the beskar on his chest but his helmet removed and his cock springing free, the tip red and angry and leaking. “Please,” he begged. “I—”

“I know,” you breathed, stepping closer to him. “We’re gonna make each other feel good now, yeah?”

Din nodded once more, his eyes fluttering shut. “Please, please.”

Well, how were you going to deny him then? 

You straddled him once more, your clit throbbing at the sight of his cock underneath you. But rather than shock him with the feeling of your pussy milking him for all he was worth, you hovered over him, just enough that the head of his cock lay just an inch from your entrance. 

“Mesh’la,” he begged, “please don’t tease. I’ll be good. I’ll make you feel good, I swear to everything I’ve ever believed in—”

A finger pressed to his lips, you shook your head. “I know,” you repeated. “Deep breaths for me, Din.” 

He inhaled sharply and shoved his breath out of his chest. For a moment, his eyes cleared. 

“Good,” you encouraged him, relishing in the look of his wide eyes at the praise. “Such a pretty boy, baby.” You moved his hand to your core, guiding his fingers to your clit. “Rub little circles for me, baby. Make me feel good and I’ll make you feel good.”

He obliged quickly, rubbing tentative circles to your clit in a way that had you smiling gently, loving the sacrilege you were participating in. “Is that g—oh!”

Din’s question was interrupted by your hand reaching down to grip his cock, delivering a quick stroke and making his hips stutter. He tried his best to lift his hips from the chair, clearly aiming for your entrance, but one hand on the beskar on his chest had him sitting back. 

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, “just like that. Just touch me for a while.”

Ever the gentleman, Din kept his eyes on you and his hand on your pussy, pulling sweet sounds from your lips just as you wrecked him beneath you. Your thumb slid against his tip and he almost came; you could tell by the way his breath caught in his throat and his eyes squeezed shut, lip trapped between his teeth. 

You wanted his fingers to wander toward your dripping entrance, but you knew he might not last long enough for any more foreplay. Next time, you thought smugly. 

Now…now you needed him inside you. 

“Gentle, baby,” you reminded him when he gripped your hip too tightly. You didn’t want to tell him you enjoyed the near-bruising strength; that would be for another time. You could already see that you were close to losing him, and you weren’t going to end this experience without riding him until the both of you saw stars. “One more deep breath, yeah?” 

He was a mess of tumbling words in Mando’a that you didn’t understand, and his brow was furiously furrowed, as if it was taking all of his focus not to come on your hand. As a matter of fact, it probably was taking all of his focus. “Please, mesh’la,” he said again. 

You wondered briefly if you’d begin answering that now; treating it as your name. Mesh’la. 

“Deep breath, baby,” you reminded him, and when he obeyed, you sank your hips towards his. The tip of his cock slid in with no resistance; you were wetter than you’d ever been in your life. “Good boy,” you moaned as you kept your hand on his neck, softly cupping the underside of his jaw to look at you. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

The stretch of his cock inside you was delicious, and pleasure licked sharply at your insides, begging for a quick release. You knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together much longer based on the whimpers that still crumbled from his throat, broken and jagged. 

“So fuckin’ pretty?” he repeated, his voice a high squeak. He gripped your hips and threw his head back. “So fuckin’ pretty for you?”

Your breath rushed out of your chest in a strong blow and you had to take a deep breath yourself to calm down. “All for me, Din, that’s it,” you continued, and you lifted your hips up. Dropping them back into his lap, you soaked up the feeling of being filled so completely by his cock. With every shred of patience left in your body, you pushed your lips back to his and tasted his moans on his tongue. 

His hips began lifting into your own, the only clue you’d get to his desperation for more. Without a word, you began moving faster, more rhythmically, as you bounced gently on his cock. With the base of his cock pulsing against your clit at every drop of your hips, you were approaching that edge quicker and quicker. “Din,” you moaned, “baby, I’m gonna—”

“Please,” he said, “I want you to feel good, mesh’la. Use me, please, use me, please…”

You were sure your brain short circuited. With no more patience left in your bones, you picked up the pace and chased your own orgasm, knowing he wasn’t far behind. With every squelch of your pussy on his cock, your moans became less coherent, and you leaned your head forward against his neck. 

Pulling back to press a kiss to his jaw, you felt his loins tense beneath you. Something nearly snapped inside you at the sound and sight and sensation of his pleasure so close to release; at the knowledge that it was you who had done this to him. “Good,” you mumbled against his jaw, getting closer to his ear. “Pretty boy, just for me,” you mumbled. 

Din’s chest tightened and his moans became longer and more high-pitched, true whimpers if you’d ever heard one. “Mesh’la,” he begged, “Mesh’la, I—”

You dipped your head down and, while grinding your hips back and forth on his cock at a feverish pace, you darted your tongue out to his neck. Licking a stripe from the crevice of his neck to the spot just behind the soft part of his ear, you groaned in his ear as you crumbled on him, releasing the tension in your body as you came hard.

Din was ruined beneath you, with his neck bobbing and his eyes shut, his head thrown back. Mouth opened in a wide moan, his voice broken over the sound, you felt his release sink into your fluttering walls. He let out a deep cry of words that you didn’t recognize, but you blushed all the same. With the way that his eyes glossed over when he said it, you were sure it was something that reeked of sin and sweat and sacrilege. 

“So good,” you mumbled again, “you’ve done so good for me, Din.” Your face tucked itself into the crook of his neck, and you inhaled the heady scent that belonged only to him. You sat motionless on his lap, but you could still feel his head pulse inside you at the overstimulation. “Did that feel good?” you asked, your hand reaching up to smooth down his hair comfortingly.

He let out a breathless laugh. “If this is sin, I’ll want more of it,” he replied, his arms snaking around your middle to tug your chest closer to him. “I’ll never know how to thank you,” he finished, sighing deeply. His eyes twinkled at you when you pulled away to look at him. 

You shook your head. “No need,” you assured him. “Just catch your breath, brave Mandalorian. Then we’ll talk.”

He nodded, his eyelids growing heavier with the expense of energy now catching up with him. His cock had grown soft inside you, but he made no move to lift you from him. “I did well?” he asked. This wasn’t surprising; you’d known him to be quietly confident, but the Mandalorian was never one to pass up the opportunity for someone to reassure his talents.

You grinned and leaned forward to press your lips to his hooked nose, fighting the urge to nip at it with your teeth. Next time, you reminded yourself. “You did well,” you nodded. “Feeling okay?”

He splayed his hands on your back and inhaled near your chest, his face buried into the soft skin of your breasts. “Never better,” he reassured you, rubbing his hands along your spine. “So sweet to me, baby,” he murmured, repeating your own affection back to you. 

The two of you remained like that, just wrapped together in a mess of limbs and sweat and come mingling together. When he began to wince with the overstimulation, you lifted off of his cock but remained in his lap. You pulled back and leaned your forehead against his. You watched his lips, plump and sitting perfectly, waiting to be kissed again. 

“What does mesh’la mean?” you asked instead, the word strange and unfamiliar on your tongue.

He looked at you for a long time, bringing a finger up to trace the line of your mouth. “Put your lips on mine again and I’ll teach you,” he offered casually, as if his pupils weren’t still blown wide, his eyelashes still fluttering from the power of his release. 

You smirked. “This is the Way, huh?”

For once in his life, Din Djarin smiled at you. “This is the Way.”

tysm for reading! so glad to be back, i'm sorry if the smut scene seemed rushed and out of pace! again: i was hungover. pls forgive. lemme know what you think!

adding tags here cause i'm going grocery shopping at 8:30pm BYEEEE

this is a good morning fic for @thetriumphantpanda and the aftercare bit at the end was specifically for @cavillscurls i know u crave it girl

the rest of the taggies: @mingiast @iluvurfather @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @darkroastjoel @tightjeansjavi @chaotic-mystery @dinsdjrn @huffle-punk @tommymilllers @milly-louise @struig @butiknewyoudlinger @alejaa-a @worhols @thegreat-annamaria @easaud @country2212 @sleepdeprived-feelalived @pertinentpostmortem @lailaispunk

#din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #virgin!din djarin #din djarin x experienced!reader #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian #star wars #star wars smut #star wars fic

[tremendum]

where to start 

(gif not mine) pairing: din djarin x afab!reader (gender not specified, descriptions of afab genitalia)     rating: explicit.  (18+. mdni.)     requested: yes, here !!! word count: 2.7k  summary:  Din lets out a shaky sigh, finally turning around in the chair to face you, legs spread slightly, "it's not like- I don't not want to- I just haven't-I don't know where to start."  warnings:  SMUT. there’s like no plot. teasing, PiV (unprotected), Din has a praise kink, he begs, inexperience, loss of virginity, brief allusion to rough sex if you squint, yall cant convince me Din isn’t a stuttering little mess, riding in the pilot’s seat!!, sliiiight dom!reader, slight discussion of Din being ashamed he’s a virgin, idk what else tbh  notes:  thank u for requesting this! i just wrote it in like 30 mins haha. i hope yall like it i love my space cowboy boyfriend <3  this is unedited. reblogs/comments always motivate me hehe

   [other din fic          din series (be like me): masterlist  ]

★  

you stare at the cold metal in front of you. 

it stares back silently. 

your hand is itching to just go knock, to raise a few inches and rap your knuckles upon its shimmering, textured surface; it'll be so simple. so easy, definitely one of the easier things you've ever done. 

but the conversation that awaits on the other side- well.

that's not so simple. 

"why don't you go over there, Din?"  a glint of beskar as his head whips to you, alarmed. thrown off. a head tilt of irritation, "excuse me?"  a raise of your eyebrows, "oh, sorry, didn't realize we were playing innocent." you jut your chin towards the young woman who stands, twirling her hair and making bedroom eyes at Din from across the bar. jealousy curls up your throat - he'd been staring in her direction since you'd arrived, too. "come on, she's been staring at you the whole time. go- go do your thing." 

"that isn't funny." he mutters, causing the chilled pint of ale between your fingers to sear you as you flush. tough crowd.  "why do you assume I'm joking, hm?" you tilt your head again and he shakes his head. it's painful, the way you and Mando have been dancing around each other for weeks. a brush of a leather hand on the small of your back, a kind chuckle at something you say, your hands soothing over the thick cowl that hides his sore knots - the ones that form in his shoulders from carrying the jetpack - a murmur of your name when you're in danger, the curling of your hand around his arm in crowded public spaces. you're sure it's torture, but it seems neither one of you can make the move. 

"she's not looking at me like- like anything." he dismisses, arms curling over themselves in a cross of defense. you hum a laugh; who wouldn't look at Mando like that? 

"oh, c'mon. jus'go up and talk to her. she's probably dying for a big man like you to toss her around." you elbow him, winking. a slick, regretting coil of envy curls around your stomach as you take in the way his helmet tilts from you back to her; what the fuck are you doing? you silently beat yourself up, cheeks hot with the swirling complacency that befalls you following several drinks of ale. you sound like a complete moof milker as you let yourself encourage Mando to- to what, pursue another woman? 

how does that make sense to your brain?  

there's an echoing thud as Din slams his fist hard on the bartop. you jump, eyes wide as he shakes his head, turning to stalk straight out the doors, leaving you behind in his anger. 

yeah. the wall has never been so daunting before. 

you know you upset him earlier. he's been cooped up inside his bunk the whole night after you returned alone from the cantina, and no matter how much you've tried to ignore it, you know that it's your fault that you've made him angry. 

your fist raises. 

the metal whooshes before you can make contact, though, and your eyes meet the hard chest of beskar before you can take a step back. a soft oh leaves your lips as his helmet tilts microscopically down towards you for a moment; he's pushing hard past you with a fierce silence and without a second glance in your direction. 

"wait!" you call as he disappears up into the cockpit, the silence sterile in the Crest as he stalks out of view. you chew your lip as you scramble to follow him, knowing you at least owe it to him to apologize for what you'd said. 

he's sitting in the cockpit, fiddling with the controls as you soon start to engage in liftoff protocols; a thudding jolt as the Crest lifts off sends you stumbling into the chair as you stare, wide-eyed, shocked at Mando's abrupt behavior. he didn't even warn you that he was preparing your next track. 

you try; you really do. seven different attempts - yes, you counted them - to get him to speak, casually commenting on the smoothness of the Crest after your last maintenance day, asking him if he remembered the coolant you'd forgotten a few cycles ago, telling him about Grogu catching a flying-Banda and swallowing it whole mid-air; stupid shit. 

all you got in response was silence.

a sigh, maybe - his helmet wouldn't turn anywhere near you, and your glare cuts through the glinting on his head as stars race above you. it was just like when you'd first met, agreeing to go with him and work maintenance or grogu-sit when he needed it, and existing in weeks of silent tension, the man surrounded in so many walls that he could be armor-less and still the most impenetrable person in the galaxy. 

he was cold. you'd pushed him back into the shell you'd spent months working to chip away. 

"Din." you say flatly, crossing your arms. he doesn't respond; not even a huff, or a grunt, or a movement of muscle to indicate he heard the word. 

"look, I just- I want to apologize. okay?" you say desperately, shaking your head. but he catches you off guard yet again as he speaks up, voice heavy and more hot than normal; like he's been stewing with his thoughts for far too long. 

"-I don't want some random woman. I don't just sleep with anybody because I think they're attractive." his voice moves through the cockpit in defiance and you sit back in your chair, blinking for a moment. oh.  

you clear your throat, unsure how to approach what he's said; a sick, twisted part of you scowls at his insinuation that he'd found the woman from the bar attractive; but of course he did. she was. and you're unable, still, to deny the throbbing ache of desire that dully spreads through you at the very dim prospect that you are not just a random woman to him.

"I was out of line. I over-stepped." you try again. 

"do you think I'm upset that you teased me back at the cantina?" he clips, taking you off-guard. your brows furrow, tilting your head, "y-yes?" it comes out like a question of your own, in your doubt. 

he sighs. the weight of it smashes you back as you furrow your brows; he will not go into another bout of silence again, you won't let him. no. 

"what is it, Din?" you ask gently, leaning your elbows onto your knees. 

he breathes out, hand twitching by his side. "I just-"

you're not sure what spurs his sudden admission; be it from frustration or a genuine desire to confide in you, his only companion besides a 50-year-old baby. 

"I don't have- I don't have much experience." he admits, voice laced with embarrassment. he sounds much more unsure of himself than normal. "because of the Creed- I have lived differently than others." 

oh. oh.

you flood with emotion, eyes flying wide. "oh, Din-" you feel like you're on fire in embarrassment, shaking your head in regret, "I'm- I didn't even think about that. I shouldn't have-" 

"please," he almost whimpers it, "stop." 

you do. 

he lets out a shaky sigh, finally turning around in the chair to face you, legs spread slightly, hands on his lap. "it's not like- I don't not want to- I just haven't-I don't know where to start." 

you nod, throat dry. his composure, the sweet genuine tilt in his voice; your underwear slicks as you wait for him to continue. the air feels... thick with anticipation. 

he's breathing more shallowly, his hands gripping his beskar thighs as he keeps your gaze. "I don't...know how to get what I want from..." he stops, his helmet fully facing you. your words are dead on your tongue as you stare at him; your heart thunders as you beg him to say it. 

"from you." he finishes, body still as he awaits your reaction. 

heat spreads through your entire body as you stare at him, fire licking your fingertips. he wants- he wants you. he wants you. 

you swallow your fears in one sentence, "have you considered... asking?" 

your voice has it's desired effect. his chest almost shivers as he lets out a soft breath, hands clenching as you stand from your seat to walk, slowly, towards his chair. you're more than thankful you'd had the thought to change from your hunting clothes; your shorts, breezy and loose, sit barely below the curve of your ass and you don't miss the way Din's helmet moves with the sway of your hips.

his helmet tilts to stare up at you when you set your hands on each side of his arm rests, leaning in close. you can smell his scent as you smile sweetly, "I would say yes, you know." you whisper next to his helmet as he lets out a strangled noise. 

it’s a split second before he shakily groans. "I want you." he finally gasps, "I need you." 

you let out your own shaky breath as arousal floods your underwear, arousal swirling in your stomach. "I want you too, Din." you press a soft kiss to his forehead, the cool beskar tingling your heated, desiring lips. 

his hands remain clenched until you slide yourself onto his lap, settling yourself to straddle him in the pilot's chair, a fantasy you've imagined almost every night since you've met the man. you don't even suggest removing the beskar; he deserves to be comfortable as possible, and you flush when you realize you like the sharp bite of the metal on your bare skin. 

your hands explore the long, sturdy planes of his chest and neck, over the ruched material, threads loose under the tips of your fingers, armor cold. you can feel him under your aching heat; he's already semi-hard, his breath falling from his helmet in breathy grunts as you slowly, gently rock against him. "you can touch me, Din." 

it's like he's snapped to life; hands fly up to your hips, tugging your chest impossibly close as he mutters into your ear, "fuck, cyare." 

it starts slow; your bodies glued to each other, exploring every inch you'd desire to discover before, the blue-electric lights of hyperspace coaxing the two of you into a dreamlike state. 

but he gets desperate quick. 

he's groaning, straining hard and thick against his flightsuit; as your hand falls to palm him as you rock your clothed clit over the material, you're momentarily concerned that if you aren't warmed up before taking him, he may not fit. "you're so big, Din." you whisper as your lips flutter along the seam of skin exposed between his helmet and cowl. he lets out a moan of your name, one hand pulling you by your back towards him, the other digging into the plush of your ass, sneaking under the fabric of your sleep shorts. 

"cyare, please-" he gasps, voice begging, "need to- need to be inside you." 

you smile, kissing the hot skin of his pressure point, tongue slinking up as his heart pounds. "there, that's how you ask, Din." 

you press another kiss to him, your hands moving to undo his flight suit, pulling his thick cock out; he ruts upwards with a sharp moan, hand digging into your ass so hard it may leave marks. 

pre-cum leaks out of him in beads; he's so goddamn hard, whimpering at your touch. you feel your slick dampen your thighs through your underwear, shivering with desire. 

you pull your underwear to the side swiftly, rising onto your knees as he stables your hips up above him. his chest sputters, grunting as you start to move your hips, teasing him with your velvety wet cunt. 

broken grunts of Mando'a leave his helmet, his fists tightening as his helmet falls back to thud against the back of his pilot's chair. "please, mesh'la, please." he mutters. 

you can't wait any longer; soon you're shifting, prodding yourself over his head, gently taking just a bit of him inside you. your gasps are in tandem at the tight, warm stretch; "Din, y'gonna fill me up so well." 

he moans at that, hands rising to hold your shoulders, his thick, muscled arms swallowing your frame as he hums, "fu-uck, n-need you mesh'la." 

you nod, your breath fogging up his helmet as you desperately shift your hips, preparing to take him into you. and then slowly, you let your legs relax slightly. 

"M-Maker-" Din stutters, the weight of his helmet dropping onto your shoulder as you slowly lower yourself; his cock, thick and warm, eases you open gently, the pain of his stretch curling your toes in your boots. “yes,” you hiss, swallowing dryly as your hands, stabilizing themselves on his neck and shoulder, grip tight. 

you have to ease yourself down onto him; his hips buck up harshly, as if he can't help himself, his tip sheathing so far into you that it prods at your tender cervix, causing you to yelp in pleasure. 

"s-sorry." he mutters, hands shaking as he holds on to you, "can't-f-fuck, it feels so- you feel so warm. y'so tight. ’m not gonna-" 

you nod desperately, starting to move yourself, fucking him slow as his hands hold you. 

"feels good. you're so good, you're so good for me." you mutter, causing his cock to twitch deep inside you. he moans loud as you mutter praises, his cock so deep; dragging through your walls, hitting an angle which nudges that delicious spot inside you.

a groan of your name has you smiling as you suck a mark dark onto his neck; you start to build up the pace, the simmering arousal soon spurring you to chase the building pleasure. 

"yes, yes." you nod, peppering kisses over his throat, nails clawing to expose more of the forbidden, golden skin. you feel him clench below you; his hard, cold thighs tense under the beskar, the muscles of his abdomen flexing under the protection as the lewd noise of your connection echoes through the cockpit. 

he's close, you know it. 

you want him to cum, you want him to be consumed by it; you want him to consume you, you want to consume him. you tug him as you maintain your pace, legs burning as you chase your own orgasm. 

"y'gonna cum, Din?" your voice is laced sultry and aroused, fogging his helmet as he nods, broken moans of ecstasy leaving his helmet. "yes, f-fuck- I-" 

"yes, cum, baby." you mutter, his hips soon spurring to thrust up and meet your own movements, the pet name making him shiver. you let out a yell, cracking with pleasure as he holds you immediately to you, his whimpers echoing with your moans. 

he finishes with a moan of your name and a slam of his fist hard onto the console next to you; all of the lights in the cockpit shut off at his action but you can barely notice as his orgasm paints your channel, hot and thick. you're out of breath as he rides out his high, ropes of cum filling you. 

he twitches inside of you as you stutter to a stop, your wetness causing a stain on his flightsuit below you. 

his head lifts from your shoulder, voice wrecked, chest panting. "you didn't- you didn't finish." he sounds confused, embarrassed. 

you flush at his statement - he just had sex for the first time, and is disappointed you didn't cum? you let your hands rub soothing circles over the parts of his shoulders that aren't covered with armor. 

"n-no, Din- that was 'bout you." you sigh, pressing a gentle kiss to the contoured beskar of his cheek. "we have next time." you ensure him, gasping as his hips still rock up into you gently, his softening cock pushing his cum deeper inside of you; holding it there. 

keeping him inside you. 

he stiffens, head rising to look at you. "no." he mutters, his hands dragging down your spine, catching on your hips, sliding back up to grope your breasts. "show me how to make you cum now. please, mesh'la." 

another rush of arousal floods you, shivers running down your body as you grin with a flush. resisting a loud moan of desire, you nod gently.  "okay." 

- 

requests open

- 

#din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader smut #the mandalorian fluff #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut #star wars #din #din x reader #din x reader smut #tremendum’s space cowboy✒️

[thepascalofus]

Supply Run - Exchange (part three)

AO3

Part Two

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x afab!Reader

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

Word Count: 19.1k (HAHAHAHAHAAA)

Chapter Summary: Previous feelings for each other are revealed, and then those feelings are explored. An exchange, if you will.

Content Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI, nervous!reader, soft!!!!!!mando, reader loves facial hair, fluff fluff fluff, helmet comes off, cuddling, SMUT: making out, grinding, PRAISE kink, lowkey size kink, big dick mando, consent king mando (consent king mando is the hottest mando, it is law), m and f masturbation, dirty thoughts of reader and of mando, piv, unprotected and protected piv, fingering f receiving, ass grabbing, a lil nipple play, half naked and naked mando, lovey dovey sex hehehehehe, physical descriptions of reader are as neutral as possible but reader has a vagina

A/N: I cannot thank you all enough for your responses on the first two parts. I also cannot thank you all enough for your patience for part three. It is longer than part one and two combined (y’all voted for me to post in one long part, ya get what ya ask for!), so I think it was worth the wait. Also I didn’t proofread this because I was too excited to post it. Will read over it later though! ENJOY!!

THREE MONTHS PRIOR

A thudding sound was produced by Mando’s footsteps up the Crest’s ramp. Looking up from the article you were reading on your Holopad, your eyes were trained on the lowering ramp. You nestled a bit further into your reading nook–a pile of blankets and some pillows stacked against the wall–as you anticipated the outside air hitting you.

Mando entered the Crest covered in mud. His footprints left a trail up the metal of the ramp. That’s another thing to add to the list of chores, you thought. The planet’s surface was half-swamp, so of course he would come back looking like he just rolled in bantha shit. A struggling bounty that Mando was dragging by the cuffs snapped around their wrists only made the mess worse. 

With a grunt and a push, the quarry was frozen in the carbonite cell before Mando could finish the harsh grit of his, “Dank farrick.” His muddy, gloved hand left a mark on his vambrace when he touched it to close the ramp. 

Silence.

A modulated exhale.

He stood with his expansive shoulders slumped and helmet turned downwards a bit. An apologetic tone crackled through the helmet, “I’m really sorry about the mess,” he slowly said as he used his hands to gesture around him.

Yeah, it wasn’t the most fun chore in the galaxy, but the alternative would be sitting and reading an article on your Holopad. Or sitting next to Mando in the cockpit, the streams of light gleaming off of his armor as you two have a sleepy conversation. They do sound like better alternatives, but you wanted to maximize your time with Mando.

You knew that Mando would help you clean up the mess. More time with Mando greatly sweetened the task of scrubbing the hull.

“I’m going to uh,” he glanced down at the muddy ensemble that covered his body, “go rinse off real quick.” He began his path towards the fresher door and stood still in front of the door. The helmet turned towards his right shoulder, like he was lost in thought. You could tell he concluded his reasoning as the helmet turned back to face the fresher door and he reached up to unlatch his armor. 

First the chest plate was placed on the floor.

Tung.

Then the thigh guards.

Tang. Tang.

Vambraces.

Ting. Ting.

Pauldrons.

Dunk. Dunk.

It wasn’t unusual for Mando to remove his armor outside of the thresher. Occasionally the planet he needed to hunt on was sweltering hot, and removing the armor helped him cool down. Other times it was the inverse, the armor was too cold and he needed to heat up. It made sense to you this time as well. His armor was dirty so removing it before stepping into the fresher helped him clean up easier.

You didn’t realize he would apply the same logic to his mud-soaked flight suit.

Reaching up, his gloved fingers fiddled with the buttons at the top of his shirt. Eventually he was successful in undoing them and brought his hands behind his neck. He gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled it up and over the helmet. Off of his torso and onto the floor.

Plap.

The saturated long sleeve clung to his upper body like a surgical exam glove. Every muscle. Every ripple with his movement. They shined in the light of the Crest and displayed every lean curve of the Mandalorian’s body. Once more he reached up, this time undoing the buttons on his long sleeve.

Oh kriff.

Hands gripping the back collar of the shirt, the removal of the wet, black fabric revealed golden tan skin. Scars littered the expanse of his back from the years of combat he’d endured. The muscles that previously rippled underneath black fabric now gleamed under tan skin, coated with a layer of sweat.

Plap.

Oh kriff.

You were behind the nearly beskar-less man. Knowing he couldn’t see you, your jaw dropped.

Mando stepped out of his shoes, which revealed clean black socks. Hopefully his boots were equipped with mechanisms to keep his feet dry. Lastly, he slid off his gloves.

Plap. Plap.

Veiny, golden hands–matching his torso–were ungloved. His fingers were thick with well kept nails. You supposed that longer nails would make hand-to-hand combat difficult. As he opened the fresher door you watched his hand flex around the handle. His biceps bulged in the process of pulling the metal door open.

Once he was inside the fresher, you heard shuffling. After a minute or two, the door opened slightly. A large hand and toned forearm reached out and discarded his pants and underwear on the floor.

Plap.

The water began to run in the fresher and the pattering of liquid hitting the fresher floor filled the Crest. Occasional variations in the pattering occurred when Mando moved his body underneath the stream of water. 

Then the pattering stopped. Mando must have been drying himself off, the slight shuffling sounds made their way to your ears. Those sounds ceased as well.

The Mandalorian cleared his throat and called out your name, “Um. Hey.”

Blinking a few times, you snapped out of your daydream-like state, “Yeah?” You called in response.

A pause. “Would you mind getting me some pants, please?” His voice was tight–possibly in embarrassment.

Your eyes widened and body sat still, “Uh, yeah sure! Where do you keep clean pairs?” You asked.

“Right side of my bunk. First cabinet on the left.” He raised his voice in order to enunciate his words. 

Before you knew it, you were leaning into Mando’s bunk. Your gaze floated around the space in a quick glance. It was clean and organized. After witnessing his wide and tall frame the bed looked almost too small. Or maybe he just looked that large.

Your hand opened the first cabinet on the left and the other hand selected a clean pair of pants off the top of the stack. They were soft, fleece-like. Realizing they were sweatpants you extended your arm to put them back, but then hesitated as your hand hovered over the pile. Mando just came back from a hunt. A swampy, muddy hunt at that. He should get to be comfortable now.

The sweatpants remained in your hand and your footsteps took you to the fresher door. “I got you a pair,” you shyly announced. 

A squeak came from the fresher door’s hinges as the crack in the door allowed Mando’s hand to stick out of the space. His palm was open, waiting for the pants to meet his touch. Your arm reached forward and placed the soft pants into the grasp of his thick fingers.

“Thank you.” The smooth bass of his voice entered your ears and went south. Air moving through his vocal chords produced warm, honey-like vibrations and they made you melt. “I’ll get the rest,” he concluded, and shut the fresher door. 

You stood and studied your bleary reflection on the fresher door in awe at what you’ve experienced. Mando’s actual voice–without the helmet.

Shuffling began and ended abruptly. Lost in the awe, you didn’t realize the Mandalorian opened the door and took a step out. In consequence, his chest collided with your torso and sent you tumbling backwards. Backwards into a small puddle of swamp water and peaty mud.

“Di’kutla,” Mando let out a now modulated grunt.

Useless, worthless in Mando’a. Your heart stung a bit at the word. It’s not like you wanted to be covered in swamp gunk.

“Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to make more of a mess,” you stuttered, nervous at the potential of him being mad at you.

Without a word, he reached down and hauled you to your feet, large hands grasped you at your waist. You became off balance and placed your hands on his chest for leverage. A slight gasp escaped your throat at the sudden movement–and at touching Mando’s bare chest.

His skin was soft, but rough. Thin black hairs littered his sternum and the surrounding skin. A light trail made its way down his soft, yet toned, stomach and disappeared past the waist of his sweatpants. Once you realized where your gaze settled–the soft bulge displayed behind the black fabric–your eyes snapped back up to his visor and your hands returned to your sides. Mando’s hands brushed the insides of your forearms. The skin on his hands was rough and warm, just like the skin on his chest.

The T shape tilted and then shook from side to side, “I’m di’kutla, not you. I’m the one that pushed you over.” 

His head peered downwards and noticed the placement of his hands, he quickly jerked them back to his sides and nodded, “Let’s get cleaning.”

–

The Mandalorian quickly pulled an outfit together, which lacked his usual beskar–the same black sweatpants, a black t-shirt, and a pair of black socks–and you mirrored his actions. Thankfully, he only caused your clothes to get dirty and not the rest of you. Your clean outfit was more revealing, which allowed you to bend and twist to scrub the mud off of the Crest’s interior.

While scrubbing, you would catch Mando out of the corner of your eye as he stole glances at you. An eyebrow of yours raised at his glances. You shot him a quick, “Don’t worry Mando, I’m getting it all,” in a teasing manner.

Looking back at the beskar-less man, he shook his helmet and chuckled, “I’m not worried about you getting it all. You keep the Crest sparkling clean. Was just…seeing if you needed help over there.” His visor returned to focus on the task of removing the mud from the floor of the hull.

–

The cleaning finished after an hour and a half. You were shocked at the efficiency, but you supposed two people cleaning aided in achieving the cleanliness of the Crest. Scrubbing the silver floors and walls tired you out, and Mando certainly felt the same after his hunt and scrubbing.

Sleep permeated throughout the air of the Crest and nestled itself into yours and Mando’s bodies. Fluid motions weaved your bodies past each other throughout the hull. Mando went back to change in his bunk while you used the fresher for your nightly routine. Once you were finished, you closed all the cabinets in the small space, signaling the return of your nightly products to their original places.

Which usually signaled Mando to stand outside of the fresher door.

His footsteps became louder as he strode to his usual spot across from the metal door of the fresher. You weren’t surprised to see Mando leaning against the wall of the hull.

But you were surprised at the bare chest staring back at you. The dark hairs on his chest littered your vision once more. The Mandalorian’s arms were crossed, which displayed every finely tuned muscle in the dim light of the hull.

You wanted to jump his bones. Climb him like a tree. Feel the expanse of his trunk-like arms under your palms.

“Are you all done there?” His modulated bass crackled through your thoughts. Straightening up and snapping out of your daydreams, you stepped to the side and nodded. Mando’s frame became larger as he approached you. Once your bodies were about to pass each other, an ungloved hand settled on your hip and gave you a slight squeeze.

“Thank you,” he said. His visor met your eyes before he closed the door to the fresher. 

You got comfy in your makeshift bed–a nice pillow, a thick sleeping pad, and a cozy blanket–and waited for Mando to finish his nightly routine. You always tried to stay up and say good night to Mando before you drifted off to sleep.

Facing the side of the Crest the fresher was on, your head hit the cushion of your pillow and your thoughts wandered.

Mando looked so fucking good. Deliciously good.

You’ve had thoughts about him before. Perverse thoughts. But they were never this strong. But you’ve also never seen him this bare this many times.

His strong arms could wrap around you and flood your body with his warmth. Broad hands would travel up and down your back, soothing any negative thoughts away. Warm skin against yours could act like a salve for your worries.

You could think of everything vividly. His arms. Hands. Chest. Even his legs.

But the feel and morphology of his lips was blurry in your mind's eye.

Yet, you wanted his lips so bad–wanted him so bad–that you didn’t mind the unfocused image in your brain.

You wanted his lips to chase after yours like they were a bounty with the highest reward he’s seen. You needed to feel the slick of his saliva mixing with yours. The dancing of your two tongues in a battle of lust. Not only did you pine after his kiss, but you sought everything that would accompany it as well.

Mando’s ungloved hands would run up and down the planes of your body. Squeezing and palming your features as he pleased, expressing his want for you. The comfortable weight of him on top of you as your mouths molded together. His shifting muscles underneath your palms as you copied his wandering hands. You’d trail your fingertips over the never-ending expanse of his firm back. The pressure of his hard shaft would grind against your mound.

And the sounds.

The sounds.

You’ve heard him grunt before, in pain, effort, exertion, while he handled his bounties.

But you wanted to cause the sounds instead.

His lips could slide against yours and vibrate as he lets out a soft groan of pleasure. The bare chest on top of yours would rumble, sending shivers of delight up and down your spine. Your fingers would dig into his back in response, which would only increase the intensity of his groans. His breath would hitch as the head of his cock rubbed against the point in your walls that had you reeling.

And finally his voice.

Modulated or not, you hoped he would reciprocate the want you had for him. Your thighs pressed together in an attempt to soothe the ache between them.

“Maker, you feel so good.”

“Need you right now.”

“You like that, baby? Yeah? Good.”

“Fuucckkk, always so good for m-.”

You were cut off by the squeaky hinges of the fresher door, accompanied by Mando’s footsteps. Still shirtless, he came into one side of your vision and slowly walked to the other side. Your face heated up at his presence and the thoughts you just had about him. He stopped in front of his bunk and looked at you. 

The T of his visor became diagonal, “You okay?” He questioned you.

Realizing he caught on, your face heated up even more as you produced a response, “Y-yeah! Yeah. Just…thinking.”

Nice save.

His helmet returned to its natural positioning. “What’re you thinking about?” He questioned once again. His large hands clasped in front of him just below his waist. Maker, he was huge. Mando put the width of the doorframe to shame as he continued to stare at you.

“Just…” You quickly tried to remedy the one sided awkwardness. “Just thinking about a book I’m reading. The plot is getting more complex.” Your shoulders rose and fell in a shrug to make your answer seem nonchalant.

“What book? Is it the cowboy one?” Mando replied. He leaned against the doorframe to get comfortable.

Your heart throbbed at his thoughtfulness. The cowboy-related book was one you brought up to him a couple weeks ago, when he asked what you were reading. Not wanting to lie to him, you shook your head and told the truth, “No, I finished that one a couple days ago. This one is about,” you trailed off, and then lied, “This is a romance book.” Your face became hot once again. At least you weren’t completely lying.

“Romance?” Mando asked, “What’s this book called?” His helmet tilted in interest. You could pick up a teasing tone if you listened closely enough.

“Oh, I don’t think you’d like it,” you returned. He usually asked for book titles when he was interested in reading them as well. 

His bare shoulders shrugged, causing his chest to flex for a moment. “Was just curious what you were reading.” He sounded a bit disappointed. The door frame appeared to widen as he turned to enter his bunk.

Not wanting to leave him hanging, you made up a book title, “Hunter and Prey.” Your eyes widened at the sheer explicitness of the three words that left your lips. Hunter and Prey? Really? It would have been easier just to tell him what you were daydreaming about him railing you. 

Mando’s broad frame filled the entrance to his bunk once again. “Hunter and Prey?” He said in a teasing tone, one much more decipherable. 

You throw his tone right back at him, “Oh c’mon. The book has romance and adventure. Two birds with one stone.” You’ve told him how much you like adventure books, so hopefully your lie stuck.

The beskar helmet slanted in thought. “I guess so,” he settled his playful response and paused. A playful tone arose from his modulator once more, 

“Don’t get too interested in bounty hunters. I think getting caught is only fun in the books.” His chest, dark hairs splaying across the surface, vibrated as he chuckled.

A slight smile spread across your face at his joke, “You never know, some bounty hunters don’t take their job as seriously as you do,” you stuck your tongue out at him in jest. 

Mando shook his head, probably biting back a chuckle, and faced his torso towards you for the final time that night, “Good night.” 

Still smiling, you responded, “Good night.”

The bunk door shut and only a dim light in the hull remained as a light source. Shadows from different cargo boxes cast themselves across the silver wall. It would take too much work to decipher which reflections on the walls belonged to which items. Warm light from a lamp near your living space casted a blanket of relaxation over the area. You couldn’t escape the feeling, and your body slumped into the material of the sleeping pad.

Once you closed your eyes, you realized your body was the only thing that the warm light seemed to calm down. In your mind, one thought took center stage.

Mando.

The way he leaned against the door frame. A broad expanse of dark hair covered his chest and traveled down past his waist, the horizontal and vertical lines of hair mimicking the T of his visor. Crossed arms were decorated with a smooth topography of muscles. His voice, laced with relaxation and ease. How attentiveness was like second nature to him. 

How far did that attentiveness extend?

You thought about how carefully he listened and remembered details from your conversations. Picking up on things you’ve needed without you even realizing they’re necessary. Like the sleeping pad you’re laying on. The warm, cozy blanket he came back with one day. 

Would he do the same in bed?

Your hand traveled down to your mound. Dipping under your waistband, your fingertips found your clit. Slow motions started to stimulate the bundle of nerves, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. It wasn’t the first time you masturbated on the Crest, you were human after all. But it was the first time you masturbated without assistance–from a book, video, or picture–and were spurred on by thoughts alone. 

He’d probably listen to your breath hitch as his thick, veiny fingers hooked into a spot on your inner walls just right. And he’d continue, hitting that exact spot over and over. With trained precision. Like it was nothing.

Upper teeth bite down on your lower lip as you thought about his fingers inside of you. How thick they are. How skilled he would be with them. Wet seeped from your slit onto your bottoms. The fingertips from your clit reached down to collect your wetness, and you resumed rubbing your clit at a faster pace.

He’d make you cum like it was his duty, as if it was part of his Creed. With confidence. Pride. Mando’s fingers would be soaked, so soaked that he’d raise them to meet your mouth. “Open.” He’d demand.

You knew you’d get that wet for him because you were already that wet for him. One of your hands continued rubbing your bundle while the other dipped into your entrance. A singular finger eased its way into your hole, but you wanted to feel the stretch. The stretch you knew his fingers would easily provide. Bringing another finger against the original one, you prodded at your entrance once more. You pushed into your wetness with two fingers.

That’s it.

Your eyes closed. Jaw dropped. 

Your thoughts wandered to his fingers once more, syncing your thoughts with the way your body felt. 

You’d take his fingers into your mouth and suck your slick from them. Right before they would retract, you coated the two digits in a layer of saliva. He observed his own fingers and understood your silent plea. “You want more, baby?” You nodded. His fingers returned to your wet hole and filled you once again.

Your own two fingers weren’t as thick as Mando’s, so you got used to the feeling of two. You needed more. The circling at your clit kept a constant pace as a third finger joined your other two. Your thoughts jumped to something that wasn’t his fingers.

His cock.

The soft bulge underneath the black fabric of his sweatpants. It was sizable, even when he was soft–you assumed he was soft–so how big would he be when he’s turned on? If his genetics maintained their pattern, he would be big.

He’d lean over you and line his hips up with yours. Each of your legs rested on one of his sides. A large hand would grip your hip to steady you, as he pushed the thick head of his cock into you. Mando would remain attentive. You knew he’d watch your face and listen to your breaths, your moans. His heavy cock found the same spot inside of you that his fingers did.

Your inner walls clenched around your three fingers. The strokes you took were slow and drawn out, savoring the fullness of your warmth.

Once he saw that you were comfortable, he’d pick up his pace. Your moaning increased, littered with, “please,” and, “Mando,” over and over. He’d groan at his name, fucking into you with more strength. Mando put the weight of his body behind his thrusts. Your body shifted up the mattress from the effort he put in. 

A small, wet sound began to echo across the hull, but you were too close to care. The hand at your clit fell into a perfect rhythm with the thrusts of the fingers entering and leaving your soaking hole. You bit your lip as you quieted a moan that threatened to leak from your mouth.

Mando’s broad palm and thick fingers would lace between yours, holding your conjoined hands above your head while he fucked into you. The head of his cock perfectly brushed against a spot deep within your walls. A place that you couldn’t reach by yourself. The Mandalorian’s hot breath fanned across your neck, he panted and groaned from his exertion. 

Another brush against your walls and you squeezed around him. “Fuucckkk,” he’d moan into your neck. He continued his pace and littered your neck in sloppy kisses. “That’s a good fucking girl.”

Both of your hands worked faster. Three fingers fucked into your hole, curled to try and hit the spot deep inside of you. Your other hand increased the pace of the study rub over your throbbing clit. The bottoms you wore felt soaked against your lower hand, yet you couldn’t care less.

Mando’s thrusts would be relentless. Hard. Fast. The weight of his heavy balls slapped against the tighter hole beneath the one he was fucking. 

Plap. Plap. Plap.

Each thrust would be so final. Conclusive. He fucked you like he knew exactly how this would end. His visor hovered over your face. Your jaw was dropped and your eyebrows were furrowed. The horizontal line of his visor filled your vision. His voice was merely a growl, as he demanded, “Cum for me.”

Your body went stiff as euphoria washed over you in waves. Each wave took you apart and brought you back together. The wetness of your hole only became wetter, the sound echoed a bit louder than before. Despite your attention to staying quiet, your orgasm raged on. Every reassembly from each wave of pleasure calmed your being, and your stiff form slumped into your sleeping pad. Your hands kept moving, but at a slower pace. Another wave followed every thrust of your fingers. You savored the warmth your orgasm brought you. Halting your hands, your mind came-to. 

That was the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had.

–

That hunt kriffing sucked, Mando thought.

Cold water ran down Mando’s body as he rinsed himself off in the fresher. Drops of liquid pattered onto the metal floor, pooling at his feet. Everything in his body felt limp, a result of his exhaustion from the hunt. 

The only thing that wasn’t limp was his dick.

Mando was already on the edge of his perverse thoughts. Seeing you, comfortable and cozy, made his heart swell–and his cock. Providing for you was like breathing. After every hunt he looked forward to meeting your gaze and a soft smile spreading across your face. 

Not only did he get to see you comfortable, but he saw you displaying your attraction to him. A display that included dropping your jaw when he took his shirt off.

He caught you gawking at him in the reflection of his chest plate. Your jaw dropped when he removed his final layers, and Maker, it only made his situation worse. Not only was his body dirty, his thoughts were dirty too. 

Before his brain started to spiral, he quickly completed his rinse-off and turned off the shower in the fresher. Stepping out, he realized he didn’t bring any fresh clothes in with him. 

Shit.

You were in the hull and would probably bring him something if he asked for it. But what does he ask for? A full outfit? He at least needed bottoms. He thought of how complicated it would be to explain where multiple things are in his bunk through the metal door of the fresher, so he opted to just ask for one thing–pants.

“Um. Hey. Would you mind getting me some pants, please?” Mando asked. He was a tad embarrassed. He plans hunts meticulously to save the most amount of time, he’s attentive to every detail in combat, and he forgot to bring pants into the fresher with him.

You brought him the pair and the Mandalorian quickly changed. Pausing before he touched the door handle, Mando became nervous. What if your jaw-dropping was one of disgust and not of attraction?

Only one way to find out.

–

Mando laid on the mattress in his bunk and finally let his thoughts wander. They wandered like a desperate quarry. So desperate to find a discreet place to live, but showing themselves at some point in the end.

He thought of the book you were allegedly reading: Hunter and Prey. You were reading a romance novel. About bounty hunters. 

His hardened cock only made his sweatpants tighter. Hips shifting upwards, he sought relief in adjusting his position. The only thing adjusting did was rub the head of his cock against the fabric of his pants. Black fabric created a heart-stopping friction against his tip. 

Dank farrick.

Finally giving in to his perverse thoughts, he let them wander. Just like how he would let an easy bounty wander around town. At any minute, he could capture them and complete his hunt, but sometimes he enjoyed “playing with his food” first.

His imagination put you on center stage. Your hair. Your eyes. The shape of your body and the planes of it he sought to run his hands over. Warm skin would glide underneath his palms and act like a sedative. Calmness washed over his mind. Then he thought of your lips. So delicately crafted. Your lips framed your gorgeous smile, like they were housing an ancient masterpiece in an art gallery.

The smile you gave him whenever he returned from a hunt made his heart melt. You’d be snuggled up reading, bent over the small stove cooking, or hunched over a mechanical issue. No matter the situation, you would look up and find his gaze behind his visor. Something anyone else could rarely accomplish. He finally felt like he had a purpose hunting, besides survival. 

You.

You’d meet him halfway and wrap your arms around his torso. His arms would snake around your torso and hold you in a tight hug. “I missed you,” he’d say. “I missed you too,” your response would vibrate against his chest. His hands would run up and down your back, relishing the feel of your body in his capable arms. 

He groaned at the thought. In frustration of not being able to have you. The simple image of a hug had him reeling, desperate to meld his being with yours. You were so perfect and lived in his damn ship. You spoke with him as if he were just Din, and not Mando. Images of domesticity juxtaposed images of his bounty hunting profession. It was a blessing and a curse. 

The pair of you would retreat to his bunk and turn off the lights. Your bodies would press together as the two of you shared the space of the mattress. He would press his helmet into your hair, smelling the faint scent of you through the metal–and the shampoo you recently bought at a market. He’d use his broad hands and thick arms to bring you closer to him, nearly crushing you via cuddling.

Mando’s face heated up at the thought. Feeling the heat of your body against his was something he would be willing to get on his knees and beg for.

Hands would begin to drift and adventure in a bold manner. His palms would glide up and down your body, stopping occasionally to grasp and rub different areas. He thought of the way your ass would feel in his palms. Soft. A cushion. A spectacle he almost didn’t feel deserving of. His hands would wander north and his fingers would tease your nipples through your shirt. You’d gasp in response and squirm against him.

Maker. He almost forgot. The sounds you would make. The Mandalorian groaned and reached down to palm his cock through his sweatpants. Relief flooded his body like how precum flooded from the head of his cock. Rough palms glided up and down the silky skin of his shaft. Once the friction became too much, he reached into a side compartment and produced a small bottle. Squeezing the plastic sides of the bottle, a small dollop of lube was squirted onto his fingers. He quickly returned to his thoughts and his actions. The lube allowed his large grip to seamlessly run along the length of his shaft.

Shit. Would you be this wet?

After exploring the feel of your body, Mando would pull you to sit in his lap. You’d be in between his legs with your back facing him, your legs resting out in front of you. He’d grip the insides of your knees and encourage you to let your legs fall to either side. Once he was pleased with the positioning he asked, “Is it okay if I take these off?” Rough fingertips pinched at the waistband of your pants and underwear. Getting an enthusiastic nod and a small, raspy ‘yes’ in response, the Mandalorian pulled both articles of clothing off of your lower half. 

He focused his strokes near the tip of his cock. The nerves in the head of his shaft sent electric currents through his body. Normally his self-pleasure sessions weren’t this intense, but you did something to him. You were special. Better than any brothel service. Any piece of pornography. You were gorgeous. Beautiful. Mesh’la. 

He thought of dipping his fingers into your slit. Hopefully, that would pull another gasp from you. Every breathy exhale and pleasured sound only increased his need to hear them more frequently. Starting with one finger, his fingertip would push into your entrance. He’d go slow at first, pumping in and out of your wet sex knuckle by knuckle. Mando would give you some time to adjust to the feeling, and then increase his pace. Moans and gasps fell from your lips much more frequently than before. Your pussy was soaked from just a few fast strokes from his thick finger. If you were comfortable with it, he’d slip another finger alongside the singular one. His pace slowly increased to resume the speed that had your back and shaking legs pressed against his. 

“Ohhh, Ma- Mando-o,” would quietly cry from your throat.

“Fucckkk,” Mando said under his helmet.

Wet sounds emanated from the action of stroking his rough grip up and down his thick shaft. Underneath the helmet, he bit his lip in frustration. He already imagined you could feel heavenly around his fingers, but he needed to feel your slick walls around his cock.

First he would make you cum with his fingers. The orgasm would send you reeling back into his hold. You’d be a shaking and stuttering mess, reaching for one of his broad hands and lacing your fingers between his. An effective way to ground yourself.

“Good girl,” he’d praise.

After you came down from your high, his strong arms would bring you to lay down long ways on the mattress. Parting your legs once more, Mando’s broad hips settled between yours. Glistening folds were presented to him at the center of his vision. You looked delicious. He wished to taste you, but his need to fuck you overtook the pleads from his tastebuds.

His thumb rubbed slow circles on the bundle of nerves between your legs. Your sparkling eyes would meet the gaze behind his visor and your brows would furrow in desperation. He’d do anything you wanted. Anything to please you. 

“What do you want, mesh’la?” His gravelly voice echoed throughout the small bunk.

You’d bite your lip, shyness creeping over your face, but you overcame the feeling. He loved it when you were confident in asking for something from him. “I want you to fuck me,” you requested.

Mando let out a strangled groan at his thought of the words. He loved knowing that you wanted him. He loved when you voiced your desires, sexual or not. Your comfort in his presence was the most potent aphrodisiac Mando could consume. The tip of his cock throbbed at the thought, and his thumb reached up to attempt to sooth the sensation. Bare hips bucked into the air at the touch.

He would line his hips up with yours and prod the wide head of his shaft against your wet entrance. Before pushing in, he reached towards a cabinet to produce his bottle of lube. Mando quickly spread a generous amount over the veiny surface of his cock. As much as he wanted to fuck you, your comfort was his upmost priority. Giving himself a few strokes with his large grip–your eyes trained on his hands–he lowered his hips once more. The T of his helmet stared into your face as he slowly pushed into you. 

Your jaw would drop, just like it did in the reflection on his chest plate. The slick walls of your pussy hugged his thick cock, making his jaw drop in unison.

His wide hand tightened around his hardness. Each stroke had him fucking himself into his grip. Mando’s jaw clenched in concentration, the combination of his hand and thoughts of you were furthering him closer and closer to the edge.

The Mandalorian nearly collapsed on top of you, but he caught himself on his elbows, caging you in his hold. Silver beskar making up his helmet hovered over your face, his eyes trained on yours. A whimper escaped from your throat when the head of his cock brushed against a particular spot. He honed into the point and hit it repeatedly, with precision. 

Your fingers dug into his bare back, most likely leaving crescent marks in their wake. He dropped his helmet into the crook of your neck. The action allowed him to hear every sound you made. Sometimes simple breathy moans, interrupted by his slow, yet strong thrusts. Other times, you’d attempt sentences:

“Ma- Mando. Maker, you feel so good.”

“K-kriff you’re b-big.”

“Mm-mm-mm, don’t, stop.”

A knot coiled in the pit of Mando’s stomach. He threw his head back into a plush pillow and focused his grip towards the tip of his cock. Quiet, slick sounds filled the space of the metal-lined bunk. His breath quickened as his imagination delved deeper.

Mando’s thrusts slowed to a near halt as he raised an arm and propped an elbow to hit a switch on the wall. The space went dark. Everything went silent.

Hiss.

Tunk.

In a hurry, he muttered, “can I kiss you, baby?”

Instead of replying in words, you craned your neck to meld your plush lips with his. Delightful needles ran up and down Mando’s body in pleasure. In disbelief. Feeling your lips on his was something he’s only dreamt of, knowing that completing the action would be a risk to his Creed.

But at this moment, Creed be damned, he craved the motions of your mouth against his. Fighting and expressing a bond that he longed for, slick lips slid against each other in a battle of lust-influenced emotions. Mando pushed his tongue into your mouth, and in the same motion, pushed his cock further into your wet heat.

His mouth swallowed your moans as he rutted the head of his cock against the particularly sensitive spot within your walls. The grip you had on his broad back became stronger. Skin against his hips brushed against the skin of your inner thighs, and your legs captured his body closer to yours. Lips tightened against his, shifting into a portrayal of pleasure, leaving you unable to kiss him properly. In response, the Mandalorian buried his head into the crook of your neck and placed sloppy kisses along your skin.

Almost there. Jaw clenched and teeth gritting, Mando fucked into his fist at a brutal pace. Soft pants accompanied the slick sounds in filling the space of his bunk. Maker, he hoped you were asleep. He didn’t know how much louder he’d get, and more importantly, how much control he had over his volume.

Unable to maintain a steady grip on his back any longer, your grasp traveled to the soft, wavy locks of his hair. The Mandalorian groaned. He didn’t realize how much he craved that simple contact, one many took for granted. Your fingertips massaged his scalp, and it was as if you massaged all of his worrisome, negative thoughts away. 

“Oh, kriff Mando, keep going. F-fuck, you make me feel s-so good.”

A few more firm, yet gentle thrusts of his cock made you squeeze your soaking walls around his shaft. His balls felt heavy against your ass. He knew he was close.

“Mando, oh, oh, Mando, I’m gonna cum,” you whined out, the sound filled his ears as he continued his pace and his languid kisses against your neck.

Mando squeezed his eyes shut. Teeth dug into the thin skin of his lower lip, the hairs of his mustache tickled the skin directly below his lip. Large hands maintained the quick pace along the silky skin of his cock. Just a few more strokes and he was done for.

A knot twisted and turned in the pit of his stomach, and he fucked into your glistening seam with more vigor. Your moans became strangled whines. Each escaping gasp climbed octaves until you finally snapped and clamp your pussy around his cock.

“I’m cumming, oh fuck. Oh, Din!”

The Mandalorian snarled as thick streams of cum erupted from the head of his cock. Translucent, white liquid covered his stomach and chest. His head spun as the waves of pleasure washed over him. The sensations dug themselves deep into his bones and he felt like he was floating. A cloud of ecstasy trapped him and he didn’t want to leave. Seeking to draw his orgasm out longer, he continued fucking his hand until the sensations became too much. Mando’s chest dramatically rose and fell in the aftermath. Panting, he looked down at the mess he made on himself.

That was the strongest orgasm he’d ever had.

Reaching towards a different cabinet, he grabbed a soft towel and began wiping up his mess. Thoughts rushed throughout his mind, in contrast from his usual mindset after masturbating. In the chorus of wandering thoughts that still occupied his mind, one made itself bold and prominent.

Maker, he needs to ask you on a date.

–

Mando stood a meter or two in front of you. His hands hung uselessly by his sides. Posture slightly askew, you could sense he was doubting himself. Thick fingers played with the strings on the bracelet while he waited for your response.

Your jaw went slack, eyes widened. So you weren’t crazy. Everything added up. He made caf for you every morning. The small ‘good nights’ he gave you every night. The even smaller ones with an added word in Mando’a, one he never said around you. The things he told you, about his son, about his feelings, that he never said to anyone else. How he was careful around you, trying not to look intimidating. He tried to make you comfortable at all times.

He cared just like you cared.

You placed one foot in front of the other, giving Mando time to back up if he wanted. He remained in place as he waited for your approach. The armored man stood like a statue in the hull. The beskar and the metal of the Crest became one. If you didn’t focus on him too much, he almost looked like a statue erected in the middle of the hull. As the toes of your boots met the toes of his, you snaked your arms around his waist and pressed your head to his chestplate.

Mando instantly wrapped you up in his solid arms. His helmet was buried into the crook of your neck, the cold metal delightfully stung your skin, and he squeezed you. The Mandalorian’s large hands ran up and down your back as his hold refused to let you go.

You didn’t want to let him go either. Your body sought fusion with his warmth, with his being. All of the comfort he provided. All of the safety that he gave you. It seeped through his body to yours. A sense of peace washed over you.

Mando’s helmet shifted towards your head more, the modulator crackling near your ear, “Is it safe to say we feel the same?” His broad hand continued to rub along your back. The warmth from his palm created the most soothing sensation you’ve experienced. Bringing yourself out of the state of bliss to recognize the question he was asking, your brows furrowed. He almost sounded uncertain of himself, voice tinged with hope.

You leaned backwards to look into his visor. A Mandalorian. The Mandalorian. Sworn to a creed of combat and honor. Mando didn’t have a problem taking down a dozen people at a time, but confessing his feelings to you made him nervous. A small chuckle escaped from your chest at the realization.

The corners of your eyes crinkled from your laughter. His helmet tilted in confusion. “Yes, Mando, we feel the same.” You raised a hand to hold the crook of his neck, rubbing your thumb along the fabric of his cowl.

He pulled you into another hug, this one with more space between the two of you, so he could look down and into your eyes. Your hands rested on his chest plate, and his rested on your waist. A rumbling feeling against your hands made your head tilt in confusion this time. Mando continued to clear his throat. His breaths got slightly quicker.

“I feel like I need to explain th-,” the Mandalorian cleared his throat once again, “I need to explain the condoms.”

Your eyes widened. He doesn’t have to explain himself, but if he wasn’t going to the brothel, why did he need them? Mando only expressed interest in you, as far as you know.

Oh.

Oh.

The beskar-clad man’s chest rose and fell with a deep inhale and exhale, preparing himself for explaining the condoms on the receipt from the market.

“I was going to ask you out on a date. Just something simple,” he shrugged and brought his covered eyes to meet yours, “I bought your favorite snacks, got us some takeout, and I was going to give you the bracelet then. I just wanted to be prepared in case anything…escalated.” 

Cheeks burning, you took Mando’s hands into yours. You smirked and gave him a light chuckle. “You would try to fuck me on the first date, Mando?”

He looked down at the floor of the hull and shook his head. “I’d only do what you’re comfortable with,” he said, giving your hands a squeeze. 

“You also don’t even know if I would have said yes to a date,” you teased him.

A low rumble resonated from his chest, he hooked a finger through one of your belt loops to pull you closer. “I think I might have made a fair assumption.”

Hands glided up Mando’s chest, and you clasped them behind his neck. “You’ll never know unless you ask…” Another rumble came from his chest. A hand snaked its way from your waist to your chin. Mando’s index finger and thumb grabbed your chin and made you look at him face-to-face. 

“Well, would you like to go on a date with me?” The beskar helmet tilted and gleamed in the faint lights of the Crest’s hull. 

“Yes, Mando, of course I do.” Your eyes took after Mando’s helmet and they gleamed with joy. The dull silver of the hull starkly contrasted your excitement. Warmth between the two of you radiated and exploded throughout the space. Your energies seeped into the metal of the Crest just as your feelings seeped into each other's consciousness.

Mando’s large hand returned to rub long lines up and down your back. “I got your favorite snacks, some takeout…” He reminded you as his speech trailed off.

“How soon can we go on the date?” You asked eagerly in response. Snacks, takeout, and Mando sounded like the perfect combination. A perfect way to turn around the anxious thoughts that clouded your mind not even an hour ago.

“We can do it now…?” Mando suggested slowly.

“Yes! Yes please!” You bounced in place and threw your arms around the Mandalorian. He reciprocated your hug with an even tighter squeeze and pulled away from you.

“Let me find a good place to park the Crest,” Mando walked away and climbed the ladder to the cockpit. You went to follow him, but he turned and stopped you at the base of the ladder. “You stay down here, it’s going to be a surprise.” Before you could respond he bounded up the ladder and began takeoff.

–

Mando pressed his vambrace and the ramp slowly revealed the market in the distance. Lights flashed and others were lit in different colors. Rolling hills were lit up by the faint glow. The sun was fully set, which allowed the sky to display an array of stars.

“This is beautiful, Mando.” You turned towards the man in silver and he wasn't looking at the sky. Not looking at the gorgeous colors streaking out from the center of the market, onto the landscape. Not even the different lights and colors that lit the small town.

His gaze was focused on you.

“I was hoping you’d like it.” He took a few steps closer to you with the market bag, a blanket, and two pillows in hand. Stepping in front of you, he laid out the blanket where the hull’s floor meets the ramp. Reaching into the market bag, he took out an assortment of snacks and a takeout meal for each of you.

“Mando, you didn’t have to do all of this,” you chuckled in amazement.

“I didn’t have to, yes. But I wanted to,” he bends down to sit on the blanket and he offers a hand to help you down. You took it and plopped down next to him, your thigh brushed his as you reached for different food items. Mando leaned on his arms placed behind him, watching in amusement as you enjoyed yourself.

The assortment he managed to purchase amazed you. Each item was something you’ve mentioned to him before. A shiny bag of one particular food, a box filled with something else, and a steaming takeout container of another dish. Relishing the diversity of it all, thoughts of Mando’s enjoyment prodded your mind.

You turn to him, “Aren’t you going to eat?” 

His helmet turned towards you and he waited a second. The helmet. No kriff, he can’t eat with you.

“I’m sorry, I for-.” Mando stopped you.

“You know I don’t mind when you eat in front of me,” he started.

He was right. You felt bad in the mornings when you sipped on your caf and indulged in your breakfast. He was probably hungry after a night’s rest. The Mandalorian told you at the time, “I’m used to it. Mandalorians never bonded over food or eating.”

Expecting the same reasoning to leave his mouth and filter through the helmet, you were shocked when he chose a different path.

“I’ve been planning this for a while, mesh’la,” he paused and adjusted his positioning on the ground, “I’ve been thinking of ways to eat with you…” He explained, and then trailed off. 

He’s been thinking of ways to eat with you. To eat. With you. Something he’s never done with you before. In the past, you’ve tried to get him to, even saying you’d wear a blindfold, but he never wanted to take that step.

And what does mesh’la mean?

“You don’t have to, I understand if-.” You began to tell him.

“I think I found a way that I would be comfortable with,” Mando said.

“What is–. Oh, Maker!” You squealed as Mando scooped you up and placed you in his lap. Your back to him and your legs tangled with his. As soon as you settled, the Mandalorian took his takeout container and brought it between your back and his stomach. 

“There’s one rule,” his modulator crackles in your ear as he rests the temple of his helmet against your actual temple, “you can’t turn around.”

“I won’t,” you squeaked, heart beating out of your chest, “I swear to you.” 

The cold feeling of the beskar disappeared from the side of your head. What you didn’t expect was the hiss of the helmet breaking its seal around Mando’s head, even though it was implied. What you definitely didn’t expect was for Mando to place the helmet just enough forward that you could see it in your peripheral as you ate.

You forgot Mando was a human. He had a head and a face. And his face was not the one that peaked at you from the corner of your eye. His face is the one directly behind your head.

The popping sounds of the food container being opened snapped you out of your thoughts. Mando’s utensils clinked against the sides of the container as he gathered food to put into his mouth. 

“Mmmm,” he grunts out, his mouth probably full of food. A few more seconds went by, “that’s really good.”

His voice.

His unmodulated voice.

It was like honey dripped over your body. Soaked through your skin and traveled through your veins. Soothed you. The warmth between you two increased yet again. Not just physical warmth, but the warmth you felt when you discovered new things about each other. When you discover new ways to care and new things to remember.

“What’s on your mind?” His large, calloused hand found the crook of your knee and gave it a light squeeze. His other hand set his empty food container to the side. That was fast, you thought. But you suppose he eats for business, not for pleasure.

“What does mesh’la mean?” You asked him as you marveled at the sight of the market again. His knees pressed into yours and the hand not on your knee snaked around your waist as he pulled you closer to him. 

He tucked his face into the crook of your neck. His breath fanned over your ear and he tightened his arm around you as he spoke, “Mesh’la is Mando’a,” he hummed as he pecked a quick kiss onto your neck, “Mesh’la means beautiful.” 

You smiled, face heating up, and hummed another question, “and what does cyar’ika mean?”

Mando buried his face into the back of your hair and left another quick peck on your head. He pulled away to mutter near your ear, “Cyar’ika roughly translates to sweetheart.”

Your torso vibrated against his, that’s really sweet, you thought, but you wanted to tease him a bit, “First date and you’re already calling me beautiful, huh? And you’ve been calling me cyar’ika for a while now.” A smirk splayed across your face.

The Mandalorian went stiff and asked, “For a while?” Confusion radiated from him and his beskar.

Your smirk morphed into a small smile. “Sometimes I wait up for you when you go on hunts, or I happen to be awake when you come back,” your heartbeat picks up at your confession, but you continued, “I like hearing you say good night to me. It’s…comforting. But then you started tacking ‘cyar’ika’ onto the end of it.” You shrugged like it was nothing.

Mando shifted underneath you, realizing he’d been caught red handed. Then he countered with, “One year of being crew partners and you’re already planning matching bracelets, huh?”

He got you there.

Softly giggling, you reach an arm backwards and bat a hand at his chest, playfully tapping him. A chuckle comes from behind your head. His hold around your waist fastens and he brings his wrist donning the bracelet out in front of you. He wraps his large hand around yours, the one with your bracelet on your wrist. You peer down and admire the identical weavings of thread.

Mando’s throat clears behind you and he speaks softly next to your ear, “I think you have good taste. It matches my armor,” his knee comes up to nudge yours. A moment of silence followed, “The green is for my son, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” meekly comes from your throat. The broad grasp covering your own gave your hand a squeeze. Mando rested his chin on your shoulder and faced the crook of your neck. Soft breaths fanned over your exposed skin.

“Did I get his color right?” You questioned. He previously said Grogu was a light green color, and you hoped the color on the bracelets mimicked his color.

The Mandalorian brought your joined hands up to focus on the color of the light green thread weaving from between the silver and brown. When he spoke, his tone sounded strained, “Yeah, yeah that’s probably it.”

When Mando last spoke to you about his son, he said it’s been a year or so since he gave them to the Jedi. A year without his little one, the bundle of joy that Mando cherished. Then the reason for his uncertain answer and strained voice washed over you.

“You,” an exhale steadied your soft speech, “You can’t remember his color that well, can you?”

A shaking breath made the man’s torso shudder against yours, “No, I can’t,” he admitted in a tight voice. His face pressed deeper into the crook of your neck and he held you close to his chest. You rubbed circles along the back of his hand in comfort. Hesitantly, you brought your other hand behind you and ran your fingers through his hair.

The texture of it made your heart melt. It was longer than you thought it’d be, you assumed he would keep it short so it didn’t bother him within the confines of his helmet. Soft waves brushed through your fingers. Your fingertips lightly scratched at the roots of his hair on his scalp.

You thought your heart melted, but Mando melted exponentially more. The large frame that was his body nearly crushed yours with the tension he released. A soft groan left his throat and vibrated against your neck. Mando’s body loosely wrapped around yours in a protective shell.

“I was hoping that the green on the bracelet would make you think of him. It could make you remember,” you explained to him, continuing the scratches against his scalp.

Then it was silent. Sounds of your exhales and the small rustling sounds of your fingers through his waves of hair were the only ones that traveled to your ear drums. The Mandalorian was heavy against you, boneless, acting as a beskar-weighted blanket. His warmth permeated from his body to yours. It was comforting. He was comforting.

Then a sharp inhale from Mando, “I have to thank you,” he began.

You nearly snapped around to respond, but you kept your gaze trained on the twinkling lights of the market. “For what?” You asked.

“For everything,” he added.

Was Mando really giving you a job review right now? On your first date? “Mando,” you chuckled and shook your head, “I’m just doing my job.”

“I’m not talking about the job, cyar’ika.”

Your eyes widened. Oh. No words exited your mouth.

Mando continued, “I need to thank you for making me feel safe. You’re, you ju–,” he sighed in annoyance with himself. “I’m sorry. I’m not too good at this.” His strong arms gave your waist a squeeze. 

Before you could reply, he resumed his train of thought. “You make me feel emotionally safe. I know I can tell you anything. Share whatever is on my mind. And you’ll be there for me,” a deep inhale interrupted his speech, “and I haven’t had that since I had Grogu.” 

His tone was strained once again and he shook his head while it was nestled near your neck. Gaining composure, he explained, “People look at me and see this bloodthirsty Mandalorian. They’re scared of me. Kriff, I’m sure some have mistaken me for some emotionless droid,” his speech snarled at the word.

You smirked at his distaste for the metal beings, but you didn’t want to interrupt his thoughts with a snide remark.

“But you see me as human. As a man with emotions and thoughts. You talk to me like I’m just a guy that happens to be covered in beskar.”

That was where you butted in, “Because that’s what you are Mando. And you’re not just some guy. You’re a Mandalorian, an actual one, the ones that no one seems to recognize today. Mandalorians are bound to a Creed of honor. Mandalorians stick to their word. They rescue. They protect. They care,” you paused to grasp the hand laying on top of yours, “You’ve told me enough about your Creed for me to realize that very little of it is truly about being solely physically and mentally intelligent. It’s about the combination of those strengths with emotional intelligence. Because what is using your head if you aren’t using your heart too?”

Mando was silent behind you. His body was stiff, no longer relaxed. Shit, did you offend him? You weren’t Mandalorian, should you have been interpreting the Creed?

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be analyzing your Creed like that. I’m not Ma-”

“No,” he stopped your speech, and resumed his, the baritone of his voice being small within his throat, “You got it all right.” Strong arms squeezed you. Mando held onto you as if someone threatened to take you from him. His face returned to its spot by your neck and he whispered, “Maker, you’re perfect.”

The words sent chills down your spine. Before you could fully relish in the implications of his phrase, small kisses were being planted up and down the curve of your neck. Eyelids closed, you bit your lip at the brushes of his lips against your skin. No longer distracted by the visuals of the market lights, your attention focused on the feeling of his face on your neck. Soft lips meticulously placed pecks up your neck. His face slid against your warm skin, leaving a prickling sensation in its wake.

Prickling…your eyes widened and you straightened up, just slightly.

Mando froze in his tracks, voice laced with concern, “you okay?” 

You cleared your throat and let out a small chuckle, “Yeah, yeah, I just,” your body vibrated against his as you chuckled again, “I just realized you have facial hair,” you explained as your face heated up. Half in embarrassment of not realizing earlier, and half in excitement. You loved facial hair.

“Oh. Yeah,” he hesitated, “do you not like it? I can shave if you-.”

You stopped him before he could finish, “No! No, I mean. I like facial hair,” you explained sheepishly.

A smirk grew on Mando’s face, and you didn’t even have to see him to know it was there. Stubble prickled on the skin of your neck once again. This time, the man rubbed his face across the slope in front of him in an attempt to tickle you.

A giggle bubbled out of your chest and you twisted in his hold. The fanning of his breath over your neck created a delicious warmth on your skin. Warmth that soothed the pin pricks from the man’s stubble. Mando’s trunk-like arms caged you in and kept you tight in his grasp. He stopped after only a few seconds, placing soft kisses on the skin that he just scratched.

The kisses down your neck became more intense. Mando would graze his teeth against your skin and tighten his hold around you. The small marks trailed further down your neckline. Receiving the trail of small marks felt like a dream. Each mark gave you a slight pinch, sending your hips rocking backwards to grind against him. 

A soft moan left Mando’s lips and vibrated against the skin of your neck. His grip tightened near your waist and brought your hips closer to his groin. Soft lips returned to your neck, the other side this time, and began placing small hickeys down your skin. One place in particular, where your jawbone meets your neck beneath your ear, sent your ass grinding down into his lap. 

Then you feel him.

And you kind of freak out.

He’s big.

Were you ready for this? Of course you’ve dreamt about it, you kriffing came to the thought of it, but the opportunity overwhelmed you. Your mind raced. You felt like you didn’t consider all of the factors that went into this. 

Sure, you’ve had sex before, but what if you weren’t good enough for Mando? You’re still clothed and he already has you hot and bothered. You haven’t done anything to him yet. You had to do something or else you’re going to be a dead fish in bed. Were you ready to actually do something with him?

Your hips stilled, and of course Mando noticed.

His actions also paused, “You okay, cyar’ika?” He asks softly. Mando’s words make their home in your heart and you melt. You are okay. You’re with him. But being with him made you anxious. Mando didn’t deserve to put up with shitty sex.

“I just,” you paused and shifted in Mando’s lap, “I think I need to lie down,” you lied to him. He quickly reached for his helmet and sealed it back around his head. The pair of you organized the garbage and the remaining snacks, quickly getting ready for bed.

–

You were almost there. You could’ve done it. You dreamt about it for months and yet you chickened out. His hands were right there, and you got up and went to bed. Dank farrick.

Mulling over your thoughts, you laid on your bed and stared at the ceiling of the Crest’s hull. You could masturbate to the thought of him again, sure, but it just wouldn’t compare. The thoughts of Mando’s hands, his broad chest pressed against your back, the warmth of his legs wrapped around yours haunted your consciousness and refused to allow you to fall asleep. 

It was only amplified by the thought Mando put into the date.

“I’ve been planning this for a while.” He said.

How long? He happened to get your favorite snacks, your favorite takeout, he went back to get the bracelets, and he parked the Crest to get an amazing view of the light-filled market. Mando put all this thought into the date and he made some moves on you.

Your heart and clit were beating at the same loud pace. 

In an attempt to focus on something other than the ghost of Mando’s hard-on on your lower back, you opened a side door and exited the Crest. The door opened and closed quietly with your careful treatment of the doorknob.

The market is still it up beautifully, projecting the colored waves of light onto the surrounding hills. You sat just a few feet away from the Crest, knees tucked up towards your chest, your chin resting on your kneecaps. After a couple minutes of sitting outside, you found that the best way to distract yourself was trying to count all of the different vendors you could see. The lights made it difficult to distinguish one stall from another, and it didn’t help that the market was sizable. 

Forty four, forty five, forty six…

“Do you mind if I join you?” The voice came from the exact man you were trying not to think about. But he was also the exact man you wanted.

You looked back towards him and patted the ground beside you. He accepted your silent invitation and plopped his body down next to yours. A breeze swept through the night landscape and left you covered in goosebumps, slightly shivering. Mando must have noticed, since he draped his long, black cape over your shivering frame. His arm followed the embrace of the cape and pulled you closer towards his heat-radiating body. The other arm snaked under your legs and he barely lifted you, so you settled into the shape of his body. Just like Mando’s cape, silence fell over the both of you. His grip around you remained tight while he did his best to warm you up.

“Why are you sitting out here?” He whispered to you. The helmet crinkled his voice, resulting in the crackling of the syllables. Delicacy laced the syllables that flowed into your ears, despite their choppiness. 

Your shoulders rose and fell and you followed it with a sigh, “I was just thinking too much. Couldn’t fall asleep.”

The shoulder leaning against Mando vibrated when he hummed in understanding.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He offered.

Your head fell to his shoulder to rest. The pair of you talked about a good majority of things. Whatever ended up on your or Mando’s mind. You found it to be a great stress reliever and knew that the Mandalorian did as well. If you didn’t get it out, by talking to Mando, the regretful feeling would just ruminate in your brain forever. At this point you highly doubted that this was a conversation topic that could cause Mando’s feelings about you to change.

“I just feel dumb.” You deadpanned.

“Dumb? Why’s that?” He responded immediately.

You paused and considered your choice of words. Being blunt was probably the best course of action. It was Mando after all.

“You wanted to do more with me and I rejected you,” you sighed and pressed your face into his shoulder.

Another quick response followed, “That’s completely okay. You don’t have to do something just because I want to do it. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable earlier. I meant what I said. We’re only going to do what you–.” 

Your head left his shoulder and faced his helmet to look into the depths of the thin black line running horizontally across the beskar. His speech stopped at your action.

“I wanted to do it. I wanted you to do it,” you admit.

Mando’s bones turned to jelly beneath you–you didn’t realize how tense he had gotten–and yet his helmet tilted in confusion.

Before he could ask the question, you answered, “I was nervous. I haven’t done anything like that in a while. Maybe I wasn’t going to be good in bed.�� Your face returned to his shoulder to nestle itself into the crook of his neck.

His embrace tightens around you once more. The T shaped gaze dropped to meet yours and he shook his head from side-to-side.

“Cyar’ika,” his chest jumps from a chuckle, “all you have to do to be good in bed is lay on the mattress,” he slowly grits out. His voice is so smooth you’re surprised his speech is still modulated. Still in doubt, the corner of your mouth pinched upward and your brows bunched together.

He noticed the uncertainty of your expression and slowly added, “I also haven’t done anything like this in awhile,” a pause was accompanied by the shaking of his head and a harsh exhale, “and I’m kriffing nervous too.” 

A small smile spread across your face at the confession. It did make you feel better. He was going through the same emotions you were. The somersaults of butterflies that wound your stomach into knots. Lightheadedness that flooded through your bodies at the sight of the other. Your emotions were so strong, these physical responses accompanied them.

The Mandalorian’s actions put you in a state of awe for the trillionth time. He does things that would make you freeze, panic, scream for help, for his help. Physical conflict was like breathing to him. It was involuntary. Completed without thought.

So many nerves bubbled within him. All because of you. All he had to do was confess his feelings to you and his composure shattered into a million pieces.

A million pieces you would pick up and put back together. You would reassemble the puzzle that was Mando over and over again. If it meant spending time with him, you would do it for eternity. Each time finding a new piece, a new feature to treasure and combine with the rest. 

Mando continued to hold your body and your gaze. The combination of him and his cape have warmed you up considerably, and you find yourself being languidly pulled closer into his torso. Your butt settled between his two thick thighs. Both of your thighs settled on top of one of his. The warmth and physical contact was appreciated, and you rested your head on the Mandalorian’s shoulder once more. 

You’re quite literally being cradled by him. One of his toned arms finds its way behind your back to keep your torso against his. The other arm found its way to your knees, holding you closer to him as much as possible. A gloved hand runs up and down your thigh once he’s satisfied with the method of cuddling. 

The friction his leather hand creates on your thigh is delicious. Every bit of heat from the contact is being transported throughout your body. You felt heavy and relaxed. But the heat from his hand turned into a burning need. The strokes up and down your thigh got riskier. His hand made its way farther up your thigh. Thick fingers splayed across your clothed limb, the wide spread covered more surface area, which drove the heat from his touch right to your clit. On some strokes, his thumb would graze the inside of your thigh. Almost there, but not close enough.

Bathing in the warmth of his touch, you didn’t realize your eye contact with Mando was maintained. He must have noticed your expressions morph into ones that you make when deep in thought. His thumb grazed the inside of your thigh once more, and you bit your lip at the tingly sensation on your bundle of nerves.

That’s all he needed to see what was on your mind. Still maintaining eye contact, his hand stopped on your upper thigh. Mando’s grip gently tightened as he spoke. The modulated voice sailed across a smooth sea of honey as he laid out his words.

“Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it. Anything, mesh’la.”

You got your do-over. There’s no way you’d reject him now.

The bone of your teeth grazed your lip. Eyes closed, you took a deep breath and gained some composure. Mando’s helmet filled your vision once you opened your eyes. His chest rose and fell in anticipation.

A small smile made its way onto your face. “Can you pick up where we left off?” You suggested.

Rumbling emanated from his chest, his grips on your back and your thigh tightened in delight. He pulled you closer to him in a hug and buried his modulator near your ear.

“Here or in the Crest?”

“Crest.”

The beskar man helped you onto your feet and led you back inside of the Crest. Once the door was shut and locked, and once Mando triple-checked the security systems, he sauntered over to you. His hands found their way to your waist as he pushed you back in the direction of his bunk. 

His bunk.

Before you could fully process it, you were lying on the long bed watching Mando as he stood, removing his armor from his body piece by piece. Just his flight suit remained on his large frame. He hardly gave you time to admire him before he sat beside you and pulled you into his lap once more. The Mandalorian’s hands–now bare–settled back into their previous positions. 

Feeling more confident than you were before, you leaned into his neck and placed light kisses along the curve. A deep groan rumbled from his chest and his hands ran up and down your body. You playfully bit the skin of his neck and sucked, bringing a hand up to rest on his neck to keep it in place. Your hickey-like kisses trailed upwards towards his jaw. Once you met the juncture where his neck met his jawbone, you sucked on his skin harder and left a light mark. 

He loved that. The grip on your thighs and waist became impossibly tight as he growled. Every noise that escaped from his helmet went straight to your clit. Your hips ground downwards onto his thigh, but to no avail. A look of desire painted your face but a sound of frustration–desperation–left your mouth.

Mando hummed in agreement. The low tone through the modulator questioned you, “Where do you want me to touch you first, mesh’la?”

You turned into a puddle. A horny, wet, puddle.

“I’ll do anything.” He said conclusively. 

Biting your lip, your brows furrowed in delight at the sensation of his grip. The hand on your thigh was higher up your thigh than any time before. Warmth from his palm traveled from the neurons in your quads to the nerves in your clit.

“Rub my clit? Please?” you asked. Desperation leaked from your mouth at the request. If Mando didn’t put his hands down your bottoms in the next thirty seconds, you were sure you were going to explode.

Mando’s chest vibrated as he chuckled, “Mmmm. I like it when you ask nicely. Good girl.”

Oh. Fuck.

You were molten beskar in his hands, at his forge. You trusted him. His skill. His knowledge of you. His perceived obligation to you. And you were ready to be shaped. Molded. Created into something new. With his support. 

His stare remained on your face as his fingertips found your clothed clit. You tensed at the contact and his motions slowed. 

“That alright?” He asked, concern melded to the grit of the voice that left the modulator.

A confirming hum vibrated from your throat. Your nod accompanied the sound.

“Have to hear you say it.” He responded. At first you thought he was teasing you, but the tone he used and the intense stare that was glued to your face said otherwise. 

“I need to and I want to make sure you’re alright every step of the way, yeah?”

You nodded up at him.

“Good,” he reacted to your body language, “then be a good girl and tell me if this is okay. Tell me how it feels.” His voice dropped incredibly low with his demand. It was gentle, but firm.

A shaky exhale escaped from your mouth as you whispered your reply, “I-I want you to keep going. It feels so good.” Wide eyes looked up at Mando and he continued his motions.

The friction of his fingers on your clothed clit was delicious. Each movement sent sparks up and down your limbs. Your head fell to rest on Mando’s shoulder as he maintained his pace. His gaze remained glued to yours. 

Then you realized he was wearing too many clothes. The friction against your clit was amazing, but you wanted as little friction as possible between your bodies. Reaching down, your fingers tugged on the edge of Mando’s shirt.

“Can I take this off?” You asked.

“Of course,” he replied. Thick fingers deftly undid the buttons at the top of his shirt and you aided him in pulling it over his head. The tight long sleeved layer was removed in the same fashion. Mando’s chest, littered with dark hairs, filled your vision. Broad plains of skin rose and fell, making his pecs stand out on his chest. Strong shoulders that framed his chest only made his body look wider.

While you were gawking at him, Mando slid his hands partially under your shirt and around your waist. His fingertips pinched at the hem of your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” He echoed your previous question.

You nodded and muttered, “yes,” in response, helping him pull the fabric over your head. 

His fingers became more confident and he applied more pressure, quickening the strokes of his fingertips over your clothed bundle. Your jaw dropped in response. As you returned Mando’s stare, your eyelids drifted downwards over your eyes, but not all the way. Your breaths were more audible, bordering on being moans.

Mando seemed to love your reactions, the hand you placed on his neck rumbled as he let out a guttural moan. He picked up his pace in response. The clothing between your bundle of nerves and his fingers created the perfect friction. Wetness pooled in your underwear with the increasing speed of the Mandalorian’s thick fingers.

Then his digits left your clit.

You let out a slight whine, disappointed at the loss of his touch. Before you could question him, his fingers dipped just below your waistband. Not enough to really feel anything. Just enough to make a point.

Making eye contact with Mando, his visor tilted in questioning.

“Can I pull these down?” He asked gruffly.

You nod at him, knowing your gaze is burning into his from behind his beskar. 

“Do it,” you half demand, half plead, “it feels so good when you touch me.”

His helmet drops next to your temple in reaction to your words. A crackle escapes the modulator with his harsh exhale. Without hesitation, his hand slid down past your waistband and brought your bottoms with it. Mando threw them to the side and slipped his hand down your underwear. His fingers easily found the pressure point of pleasure past your mound.

You thought the feeling over your clothes was delicious. The feeling of his bare hands on your bare clit was divine. Nothing could replicate the feeling. Nothing came close to the sensations he willed your body to produce. The sensations he produced with just his fingertips.

Mando resumed the slow pace he set previously. He was testing the waters, seeing if the feeling was just as good before. Your hips bucked up into his hand and another exhale left his helmet, this one quicker.

“Mmmm, okay, okay,” the modulator let out a soft understanding.

His fingers sped up to reach the fast pace he had set over your clothed clit. This time, the feeling was a thousand times more potent. The fibers facilitated most of your pleasure before, but now it was all Mando. Rough skin on his fingertips, created by years of pulling triggers and colliding fists, produced amazing friction. A feeling so electrifying you swore you could feel every ridge and valley of his fingerprints.

Your cunt squeezed around nothing and you mewled in desperation. Mando’s helmet still stung your temple with the cool temperature of the metal. His breathing was heavy, arm stiff, making sure your pleasure was maintained.

One circle around your bundle. Then another. And another. The pleasure was phenomenal, which caused your wetness to leak from your hole.

Mando looked down and groaned at the sight.

“Ffuucckk. So wet for me.” He gritted out, continuing the pace of his fingertips around your nub.

Your hips attempted to follow his motions to make more friction, but to no avail. Mando’s fingers were amazing, but his digits just on your clit weren't how you wanted to cum.

The sentence flowed through your brain: “Have to hear you say it.”

Before when you were sitting in Mando’s lap, his fingers inching towards your waistband, you didn’t know if you were ready. You didn’t know if you would be enough. Hesitation blocked your desire and you worried about taking too much and giving too little.

But now you wanted it all. 

Everything you thought about before. His hands. His fingers. His lips. His unmodulated voice. His cock.

You needed it.

It was as if Mando had a switch to turn you off and on. The motions of his fingers wavered your switch off and on, and your confidence flickered on. No more shyness. You had to be direct, and then you would get what you were desperate for.

“Mando…mmmm…M-Mando,” you attempted your request.

His fingers slowed, his attention divided between your speech and your clit. “Yes, cyar’ika?” His grip on your back tightened, indicating that he was listening.

You bit your lip in nervousness, but mustered up the confidence to finally say what you needed, “I want you to f-finger me,” you said between waves of pleasure.

Mando stopped altogether and dipped his fingers lower, edging his reach towards your hole. One finger prodded at your entrance and that feeling alone made you squirm.

More liquid seeped from your seams and your thoughts returned to the ones you had earlier today. You wanted to kiss him. So badly. 

Biting your lip at the thought, you accidentally stuttered out, “I-I w-want.” You realized your request was ridiculous and buried your face in his shoulder, acting as though nothing ever left your lips.

His fingers trailed upwards along your wetness and then back down, hesitating before he began your request. Confused, you brought your head up to look at him.

“What do you want, baby?”

Baby.

Kriff.

You shook your head, “It’s nothing.”

His helmet tilted in a, “I know you’re lying,” type of way. “It isn’t nothing, and we both know it,” he gently reasoned. A large hand ran up and down your back, the other rested on your sex. 

Shaking your head once again, your eyes widened and the corner of your mouth turned up in matter-of-factness, you whispered, “You wouldn’t do it.”

Immediately, “Try me,” he calmly demanded.

Kriff it. The most he would do is reject you.

“I want you to kiss me.” You confessed.

The T of his visor stared at you blankly. In contrast to the steady gaze of his helmet, his chest heaved and lowered at a faster rhythm. 

Then you were on the mattress, Mando was standing up in his bunk, going for the door. Dread hit you like a brick wall. 

“Mando, Mando I’m sorry. I knew it was ridiculous! I-I shouldn’t have even asked,” you pleaded to him.

Then it was dark. And a large pair of hands were on your waist. 

Hissss.

Your brows furrowed in confusion and your eyes remained wide in a pleading expression. 

“Relax.”

The word dripped from Mando’s lips and traveled to your ears. His tone was like thick, warm honey. A soothing bass resonated throughout the room and into your bones. Once the tone reached the marrow within them, they turned to jelly. Your body slumped into Mando’s broad hands.

A dip in the mattress alerted you to his positioning within the bunk. He sat beside you, hands remained around your waist, and he gave you a slight tug as a request to move closer to him. Once you were close enough, Mando slid you into his lap to resume your previous entanglement. 

Your head relaxed on his shoulder and he pulled your torso closer to his with the tree-trunks he had for arms. Instead of his hand slithering down to find the band of your underwear, it traveled up your arm and towards the crook of your neck. The Mandalorian’s thumb rubbed soothing circles on your jaw, just in front of your ear. He shifted a bit, and then you felt warm air fanning over your face.

His helmet was off. The room was dark. Yet you knew that you were looking him right in the eyes. You knew his face was centimeters away from yours. The series of events amazed you. If the lights were on, his Creed would be broken. You didn’t know if the Creed had a clause about being helmetless in the dark, but you knew this situation was risky.

And yet Mando was willing to put his Creed at risk. Just to kiss you.

As if he was reading your mind, his thumb halted its motions. The air that fanned over your face did so with a higher intensity.

The honied voice washed over you again, “I’m going to kiss you now, mesh’la.”

In shock, you could merely nod and whisper, “Please, Mando.”

You daydreamed–and actually dreamed–about this moment for months. Months. Different visions clouded your mind. Soft, supple kisses could be placed on your lips. Feather lip and hesitant in how they approached. Or the kisses could be rough and demanding. Muscles and embouchures would battle in combat motivated by lust.

In reality, Mando was a mix of both. His lips were soft, yet firm. Intention laced the way he moved his mouth against yours. Saliva soon wet both pairs of lips in your entanglement. Your mouths fell into a synchronized rhythms of pecks, tongues, soft bites, and sloppy kisses.

You were so focused on his lips that you didn’t notice the calloused hand making its way down your underwear. His fingers rubbed your clit once more and your hips bucked into his hand. Teeth clashed together as Mando smiled into your kisses.

He placed shorter, close mouthed kisses on your lips and pulled away to speak. Tension from the waistband of your underwear alerted you to Mando’s gesture.

His warm breath fanned over your face, “Can I take these off, baby?”

You nodded vigorously, realizing he couldn’t see you, you stuttered out, “Y-yes, please.”

In haste, the underwear was peeled from your legs and thrown into the darkness of the man’s bunk. Warm, wet lips crashed onto yours once more. You reached up and tangled your fingers into his hair. Soft waves traveled through your hands as they ran through his locks. 

The Mandalorian let out a low groan at the presence of your fingers in his hair. Firm and demanding lips met your mouth, and small bites pinched your lower lip from time to time. You supposed that this was one of the first times someone carded their fingers through his hair. 

Then you felt a rough finger at your soaking entrance. You clenched your walls around nothing in response. His fingers needed to be inside you. Fantasies have filled your mind’s eye about them for months. They’re thick, and you know the digits would stretch your wet hole. Thoughts of the tasty feeling manifested into words.

“Kriff, plea-please Mando. I want your fingers in my pussy,” you pleaded.

He stopped kissing you, but his breath remained close. The motion that was in his lips translated to his finger. One thick, large digit sunk into your wet heat.

From between the clouds of pleasure that fogged your head, you heard Mando’s syrupy voice in your ear, “You’re going to cum like this.”

Your body melted into his. Reaching up, you grabbed where you thought his face was. After a second of wandering in the darkness, your hand cupped his jaw and kept his face in front of yours.

Soft moans and gentle groans emanated from your chest. Each individual knuckle of his finger rubbed along your walls and left its own unique feeling. Mando pumped his middle finger into you slowly. After you were used to the feeling, it was as if his finger was the one pulling moans from your throat.

Mando picked up his pace and you began to pant, moans mingling between your loud exhales. Gripping his jaw and his neck, you anchored yourself to him. His large arms were easily holding you against him, and his torso was solid, but the deft finger in your wet pussy made you feel like you were levitating off of him.

“Maker, baby. I knew your pussy would get fucking soaked,” he gritted into your ear.

Wet sounds of his finger pushing in and out of your heat filled the darkness of his bunk. Your legs were spread wide in his lap, allowing Mando room to curve his wrist to push his finger along the tight walls of your sex. His fingertip traveled and searched, like a hunter after a bounty, and it finally found its reward.

Your hips jumped into his hand at the euphoric feeling. Awe swept over you. You thought Mando was going to be attentive, but attentive was too light of a word for his focus. 

Groaning, he remarked, “Mmmm. That’s it, huh? That’s my girl.”

The Mandalorian was obsessed. His obsession led him to hit the pressure point on your soaking walls over and over again. Mando’s chest rumbled when your pussy clenched around his fingers. Resistance against his fingers only spurred his actions further.

The grasps of your hands tightened around his face and neck. Every muscle in your body clenched. Your face was screwed together from pleasure. Not only was your body taught, your moans were too.

“Nnnghh, oh fuck. M-Mando, yes.”

All because of one of Mando’s fingers.

Your grasp on his jaw shifted when he inquired, “You want another finger, mesh’la?”

Without thought, you moaned in response, “Yes! Oh Maker, please Mando!” 

An empty feeling in your pussy almost made its way to your brain, but then you felt the stretch. Two of his fingers made you see stars, and the delicious stretch created by his thick digits went right to your clit.

His chest vibrated against your shoulder as he let out a deep, rumble, “That’s my good girl.”

A whimper escaped from your throat and your hips ground onto his fingers.

“I- mmf, I thought about this so many times,” you admitted.

Mando growled, “Fuck. Yeah? Tell me what else you thought about.”

His fingers picked up their pace, hitting that soft spot on your walls repeatedly. The Mandalorian made you a whimpering mess in his arms. More wetness weeped from your seams, dripping out past his thick fingers.

“I-, oh, fuck, I th-thought about y-your cock,” you confessed another fantasy that plagued your thoughts.

“Mmmm. What about my cock, cyar’ika?”

The sounds of your wet pussy and both of your moans filled the small space of Mando’s bunk. 

Shhlkt. Shhlkt. Shhlkt.

“H-how you’d st-stretch my pussy w-with it,” you managed between whimpers and shaky exhales.

Fingers fucked into your messy hole faster and faster. “Is that what you want, mesh’la? Need me to stretch your pretty pussy out?”

“Yes, yes. Oh-oh fu-fuck, please,” you begged him. The hand on his jaw brought his lips down to meet yours. Mando’s tongue immediately dove between your lips, wrestling with yours in vigor. Rough, scarred skin was grounding in your hands. Each pump of his fingers tightened your muscles, curling your figure into his strong hold.

“You want my cock next, baby? Hm?” He cooed at you, never faltering the rhythm of his fingers.

Your mouth fell away from his when your jaw dropped. “Mh-mmm-mhm. Yes, please!” You squealed in reaction.

His face leaned down to hover in front of yours, “Then cum on my fingers, pretty baby,” he growled to you.

Shhlkt. Shhlkt. Shhlkt.

A few more pumps and your wet walls clamped down on Mando’s thick fingers. Broken gasps left your mouth as your body stiffened in his strong arms. Your legs shook and you left crescent marks on the man’s back.

Despite your body-shaking orgasm, the man continued his motions until you placed a hand over his to push it away. Your limp body slumped into his, the waves of pleasure left a warm sensation glowing in your skin. 

No amount of dreaming could have predicted the feeling of Mando beckoning an orgasm from you like he swore to do it. The situation you were in wasn’t exactly what you dreamt of, but the reality was so much better.

A strong hand grazed your back, leaving a trail of heat from its up and down motions. Another hand pulled you in closer to him, and the warm air from his breath made its presence known on your face.

The tone he used starkly contrasted the growls from earlier, “How was that? Are you feeling okay, cyar’ika?” A deep tone, covered in honey, was laced with a small amount of concern.

“Mando…holy shit,” you said breathily. 

Silently chuckling at the state you were in, the Mandalorian peppered light, slow kisses on top of your head and over your face. You relished in the feeling. His lips mimicked the sentiments of the kisses he placed on your wrist earlier in the night. 

“This means everything to me.” 

The phrase echoed in your mind. Of course Mando let you know before that. He didn’t have to say it, but it showed in his actions. Every cup of caf. Every conversation. Every inquisitive response he would give after you told a story. Every small intention behind each action built up within you, and you guided Mando’s lips to meet yours.

Your lips moved in sync and in slow motion. Ridges and valleys imprinted on your lips and in your memory. If Mando was dedicated to his Creed, you would be dedicated to the set of lips pressing against yours. The set of lips that made you laugh. The lips that reassured you. The lips you looked forward to hearing produce words everyday.

You didn’t even know what they looked like.

And you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. They were his lips. Mando’s lips. That’s all that mattered.

After a long stint of sloppy kisses and crescendoing moans, Mando removed his lips from yours. He was panting and en route to placing the same sloppy kisses onto your neck. His plump lips traveled down, leaving saliva marks in their wake, and then they trailed back up, settling next to your ear.

The thin skin of his lips tickled the shell of your ear as he spoke, “Still want me to fuck you, baby?”

Baby.

He’s said it before, but the word still made you squirm a small amount in his arms. Your teeth imprinted on your lips before you let out a meek, “Yes, please.” If the lights were on, Mando would see your wide eyes and your scrunched together brows. As if you had to beg him for it.

Kisses between the two of you resume as the Mandalorian shifted both of your positions on the mattress. His strong arms still clutched your figure as he slowly leaned downwards, until the pair of you were lying on the bed. Both of your hands reached up and weaved your fingers into the soft waves on his head. Mando’s thick hands traversed the planes of your body, randomly grabbing onto you and giving you a slight squeeze where his hands were.

“Uhhhgg, fu-fuck,” left his chest and escaped from his throat when you gave his hair a small tug. One of his firm, capable hands reached down and encouraged you to spread your legs. In the same motion, he shifted upwards to settle between them. 

Your locked mouths never broke. Mando’s lips remained on yours as if he were tethered to them, like they were the only thing keeping him in this universe. His groin pressed against yours and your hips bucked upwards at the feeling. Your mouth watered, like it was somehow conditioned to, after sensing the large curve of his cock covered by black fabric.

One of your hands reached downwards and palmed his shaft through the clothing. Mando’s hips ground down into yours in response, and he let out a low growl.

Your fingertips found the elastic waistband of his sweatpants and tugged on it in suggestion. Before you could even ask the question, the Mandalorian sat up, leaving your upper body to feel the cold air of the bunk. 

Shuffling came from in front of you. Then a soft, muted, plop.

The man was back onto you like it pained him to be away. Moans and rumbling exuded from his chest as he kissed you. Firm muscle of his tongue lapped against yours, challenging you to lustful combat. You accepted and the volume of your pleasure joined his. A couple kisses felt like forever, but it was the best eternity that you could be stuck in.

Mando’s body shifted lower to grind his hips against you once more. His thick shaft slid through your folds. A whimper came from your mouth as the head of his cock grazed your clit. Moans from the man only became more gravely, animalistic. The grit of the vibrations could have convinced you that he put the helmet back on–if his mouth wasn’t sealed to yours.

Swollen lips broke the seal from yours and Mando’s head fell into the space between your head and your neck. Heavy breathing flooded the audio in your brain. Rough hands ran up and down your inner thighs, intermittently squeezing the flesh there. 

A chaste kiss met the side of your head, above your ear You could feel the slick on his lips against your ear as he gently demanded, “Tell me what you want.”

Without hesitation you replied in a whining whisper, “Please put your cock in my pussy.”

The side of your head vibrated when he let out a blissful groan into your hair. His broad chest left yours as he sat up and pulled some items from a nearby drawer. Your face heated in anticipation.

Sounds were the only thing available to you to figure out what he retrieved. A crinkling and then a tear echoed through the bunk.

The condom.

Rubber noises made their way to your ears as Mando rolled the condom onto his shaft. Maker, you wish you could see him. Those large hands forming a strong grip. The thick head of his cock leaking before he puts the contraceptive on.

You thought you’d feel him shift back towards you, but then a short pop echoed through the bunk. Like he just opened a bottle of shampoo. 

Silence. 

Then the slick sounds of his large grip stroking his shaft filled the air.

Your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness. You were definitely wet enough, but the consideration for your comfort made liquid seep from your pussy.

The mattress shifted around you as he lowered his torso towards yours. One side dipped much more and the slick head of his cock teased your entrance. A small moan left your throat at the contact.

Mando paused when he was lined up with your wet hole. A wet kiss was placed on your forehead before he asked, voice strained, “Are you ready for me, my cyare?”

“Yes,” breathy and quick, passed through your swollen lips.

Maker. His cock was thick. The feeling of him pushing into you was fucking amazing.

The walls of your pussy wrapped around him. A delightful stretch pricked at your soaking entrance and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Mando was slow and careful as he pressed his wide shaft into you. Movement ceased once his balls laid flat against the flesh of your ass.

You were so lost in the new sensations that Mando’s heavy breaths suddenly made their way into the foreground of your mind. Warm air fanned against your face and his strangled moans vibrated against your chest. Head heavy, his face found its way to the crook of your neck.

“Oh, f-fuckkk. Kriff, cyar’ika, you put my dreams to shame.”

Your arms weaved around his torso and your fingers ran down his back. His face only pressed further into you, and your walls were straining against the thickness of his cock.

“Mmm-Mando. Please. Fuck me, please.”

Another rumble from his chest vibrated against you. His hips shifted backwards, and the thick head of his cock dragged against your walls. The pair of you moaned in unison, amazed by the feel of the other.

His torso rose up and slipped from your hold and you involuntarily whined. A small, gravely chuckle left Mando’s lips, “You want me back down there, baby?”

Your hands reached into the darkness and collided with the man’s chest. Hairs brushed against your fingers as you attempted a grip to pull him back down. Before you could adjust your hands to pull his shoulders down instead, he lowered himself once more and nestled his head in the space above your shoulder.

“I-I-, nngghhh,” you tried to justify your desire, but the ridges of his cock grazed against the warmth of your pussy just right. But then you tried again. “M-makes me f-feel safe,” you let out a whimper.

“Aghhh, fuck baby.” The speed of his thrusts picked up, but his strokes were still long and languid. “Want you to feel safe with me,” he grunted as his breath fanned over your neck.

You always felt safe with him. Without question. In populated cities with shoulder-to-shoulder crowds. Out in the wilderness, the forest canopy darkening the forest floor. At a run down market with nasty glares being sent your way.

“I always have,” you manage to clearly respond.

Another deep groan resonated in your ear drums. A large, calloused hand found your arm and dragged its grip towards your hand. Thick digits intertwined with yours, and the pace of his hips picked up once more.

The hair above his shaft created mind-numbing friction on your clit. Each stroke sent a shockwave of bliss through your body. The bliss made its way back down to your pussy. Wetness dripped out from around his thick cock. Soft, wet sounds filled the space of Mando’s bunk.

“Kriff, cyar’ika. Maker, you’re fucking soaked for me,” he gritted out into your ear. His mouth found yours and weak, distracted kisses were placed on your lips. 

Fingertips dug into the skin on his back. You reeled into his touch. His thick cock still left a tinge of stretching throughout your walls. Each thrust of his hips soothed and invigorated the sensation in your pussy. You thought back to your fantasies and masturbation sessions. Squeezing three fingers into your soaking hole just to get a taste of how he’d feel. Now you have the real thing. And it’s so much better than your fingers buried deep in your cunt.

“What’re you thinking about, mesh’la?” The smooth baritone filled the air around you.

You bit your lip. How the hell did he know you were thinking? Small gasps left your lips, releasing the skin from the hold of your teeth. You knew he wanted you to say it, but your cheeks became hot in embarrassment.

You probably waited too long, because Mando grunted out, “I can tell you what I’ve been thinking, baby,” a soft grumble came from his chest, “been thinking abou- fuck. About how much of a good girl you are for me.”

Mewling left your throat and you tightened your wet pussy around his hard length. Mando growled and quickened his pace in response. A combination of moans and exhales from your chest were punctuated from each of his thrusts. Thick fingers splayed across the underside of your thigh and shifted your hips slightly upwards.

 He found the spot. The same one his fingers came familiar with.

Brows furrowed and eyes scrunched, you moaned out a whiny, “O-oh-oh, Maker. Mando!” 

“Tell me what you’re thinking about, my cyar’ika,” Mando repeated.

“Y-your cock, oh k-kriff, your cock, Mando,” you let out a shaky breath to conclude, “I’ve been thinking about your cock.”

A low hum came from the man, “What about it, mesh’la?”

You let out a keening noise when Mando reached down and grazed your clit with his thumb, drawing circles on your sensitive nub. Strong fingers splayed across your lower stomach as he rested them there. He listened to your moans and shaky breaths and concentrated on a technique. The Mandalorian figured out your body and had it down to a science. Every movement and sound that resonated from your body was a signal to him. Sound waves from you were like signals, and he replied to your every call.

His hips remained flush against yours as he gave your cunt shallow thrusts, repeatedly brushing the firm head of his cock over the most sensitive point deep within you. The combination of stimulations made your pussy clench around his shaft. A guttural moan emanated from Mando in response.

Your fingertips dug into the broad expanse of his back when you confessed with a whine, “Th-thinking…fuck…you’re so-o bi-ig.”

The thumb rubbing your clit sped up, and Mando’s other hand tightened its grip around yours. You let out a breathy sigh, your cunt only became tighter around him. The Mandalorian’s bunk was filled with the sound of your combined moans, heavy breaths, and light plaps of skin against skin.

Visions of what he looked like fucking you flashed through your mind. His huge shoulders, strong arms, veiny forearms, thick fingers. The delectable tree-thunk thighs accenting his toned waist.

You pictured a man with dark hair, probably brown eyes, with the softest lips your pair have ever met, framed by dark stubble. The man would be focused, brow furrowing in concentration. His eyes rolled back into his head and his jaw fell open when you tightened around him. Just like Mando, he’d growl in response to your wet heat, and bring his jaw back up to tighten it while he focused on you.

His hands. His cock. His voice. His lips. Kriff even the feel of his hair and skin. Each component came together to melt you into a puddle of pleasure. Moans escaped from your throat in higher and higher octaves. Sentences didn’t exist anymore, as you could barely form them.

“Think, oh shit, Ma-Mando. Think I-I’m gonna cum,” your voice sounded desperate as you alerted him.

Harsh breaths blew onto your face from Mando’s focused exertion. Your lip was captured under your teeth for the umpteenth time. Only tight whines left your throat. Pussy squeezing around Mando, your body followed suit. Thighs wrapped around his waist and the embrace of your arms held him close.

The Mandalorian left lazy kisses across your face and muttered endless praises.

“Such a good girl.”

“You’re so perfect, mesh’la.”

“Not going to last long after you, my pretty baby.”

Then his kisses paused from being placed on your face. “Hey,” Mando said to get your attention, “listen to me, cyar’ika.”

You whimpered in acknowledgement, but Mando wasn’t having it, “Have to say yes for me,” he let out between strokes.

“Yes-yes I’m listening,” you quickly blurted. 

Almost lost in your pleasure, you realized you had to actually listen to him. To comprehend and process his words. Not that you weren’t listening to him, but the motions he pressed into you made your mind blur together. Your mind snapped to attention at his words.

Mando spoke in a gentle, yet commanding, tone. The grip sealing your conjoined hands together tightened.

“My name is Din.”

Din.

It was simple and to the point, just like how Mando was. No wasting any time. No frills. No banthashit. Just Din.

Then the tight knot in the pit of your stomach snapped. Sounds that once poured from your body ceased as your figure curled into his. The pleasure was something you couldn’t have fathomed before this. Every cell in your body ignited in a passion filled radiance.

“Din! Din, oh fuckkkk, Diiiin!”

Your wet heat clamped onto Mando’s thick cock, sending him into a frenzy of growls and grunts. His calloused thumb remained on your clit until the spasms of your orgasm fizzled out. Then you were left empty handed, but your body lifted up slightly off of the mattress. The Mandalorian snaked his arms behind your shoulders, his hands under the pillow cushioning your head.

Sloppy kisses met your mouth. Tongues pushed into mouths to wrestle with their counterparts. It was like Mando wanted to memorize every ridge of your lips and tongue. To add them to his Creed. Worship them forever.

His head dropped next to yours and your ears were filled with breathy grunts.

Plap. Plap. Plap.

Softly bounced around the metal walls of the bunk.

“Wanted this for so long, baby.”

“Always thought about you, fuck, I think about you all the time.”

The intensity of his grunts increased and you could feel his cock swelling inside you. Soft lips brushed against the shell of your ear, hastily whispering out, “Where do you want me?”

Digging your fingers into the waves of his soft hair, you eagerly responded, “In the condom, Din.”

“Fuucckkk,” he groaned.

His cock started to twitch within your warm walls. The speed and depth of his thrusts no longer followed a formula. Your head raised slightly when large fists balled the bedsheets into his hands. One of your hands drifted up and down his back, soothing him through his release. He was shaking with every excess thrust he gave your wet heat.

Then his heavy body slumped against yours. Mando’s breath was still heaving, sending strong winds across your neck. Open mouthed kisses were gently placed onto the skin there. Your fingers massaged his scalp and he let out a satisfied sigh. Silence filled the space of the bunk.

What if he regretted this? Was this just a one time thing?

“Mand-,” he cut you off with both his voice and the motions he put the pair of you through.

Suddenly you were on top of him. Your head found the plush meat of his relaxed pecs and you laid your head on them. A firm grip from Mando came to wrap around you. His strong arms held you against him like someone threatened to take you away. Mando’s fingertips traced languid shapes across your back. The tip of his nose dug into your scalp as he pressed a couple soft kisses in your hair.

“Din. Call me Din, cyar’ika.”

Your cheeks rose in temperature at his insistence. Fighting your nerves, you asked, “Is this a one time thing?”

The Mandalorian stiffened underneath you. Here it goes. You’ll have to crawl off his body and resort to the sleeping pad in the hull.

“No. Mesh’la, of course not,” a low baritone soothed your worries. Your head slumped onto his chest even more. Feeling nervous, yet confident–even though you literally just fucked him–you brought a hand up to feel his face.

His hand resumed its drawings of small shapes on your back. Humming came from beneath you when your hand made contact with his stubble. Your thumb grazed the short hairs and your fingers followed the curve of his jaw.

His lips felt as soft as they did when they were on yours. Your fingertips reached upwards a bit more. Longer hairs tickled at your digits and you let out a small giggle.

“Mmf, what, pretty girl?” His tone was laced with sleep and curiosity.

You smiled at him in the dark, “You have a mustache,” you told him in a whisper, as if he didn’t already know. A smile from him creeped up under your touch.

“Mmm. Yes, I do,” he replied matter-of-factly. 

In a teasing tone, you inquired, “Who’s that for?”

A low chuckle from Din’s chest made your head rumble. The hand on your back ceased its movements. His nose dipped down to find yours, aiding him in lining up his mouth to kiss you. A gentle kiss was placed onto your lips, and you were acutely aware of the hairs that made up his mustache.

He sighed in content and murmured, “At first it was for me. I don’t know. I just liked it,” his shoulders went up and down in a shrug, he continued with a hum, “but you like it. So now it’s for you.”

Your face became hot at his words. Slightly embarrassed, you nestled your face into his chest. The thin hairs there wisped at your face. 

Sleep quickly caught up to you and your whole body relaxed against Din’s. His large frame made for a comfortable bed. Muscles, none of them tense, gave you a plush surface to melt into.

Din’s strong arms wrapped around you. He continued to press soft kisses into your hair. Right before you slipped out of consciousness he whispered to you.

“I meant what I said,” he paused to wait for a response. You didn’t register him speaking until it was too late, but he continued his sentence nonetheless.

“I’ll do anything for you.”

Supply Run - Review (part four) (Coming soon)

#the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fic #mando fic #mando smut #mando x reader #mando fanfic #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #mando fluff #din djarin x you #thepascalofus fic #thepascalofus #supply run #supply run fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal edit #mando

[pedroshotwifey]

Beg For It

Pairing: Virgin!Din Djarin x afab!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Tags/warnings: piv sex, oral (m), cock worship, virgin din, premature ejaculation, teasing, humiliation, sub din, dom reader, degradation, cockpit sex™, embarrassment, age gap (younger reader), din djarin's monster cock, helmet stays on, pet names, snarky reader, experienced reader, stuff I'm forgetting (c'mon guys, it's me.)

Summary: You make a shocking discovery about Din and decide to do something about it.

A/N: Hey babes! Sorry if you're waiting on TTF or FB rn, but my brain does not want to cooperate atm. TTF 4 should be out relatively soon, but I'm not sure about FB. I hope you like this fic, bc I have no idea where it came from 🤣 My asks are always open in the meantime!!

***

“Fuck, it’s tight in here,” you complain as you stuff yourself into the small alcove exposed by the panel that was just removed from the Crest’s wall. 

“And a fucking mess. Do you ever organize this shit, Din?” 

The exasperated sigh that comes from behind you is enough to answer your question. 

You roll your eyes as you reach for the tangled ball of wires in front of you. No wonder the lights have been flickering. You’re lucky it wasn’t anything worse than that. 

“Who would even be doing this shit if you didn’t have me? Not like your broad ass could fit in here.” 

Mando scoffs behind you. 

“We got along perfectly fine before you,” he argues. “Grogu could fit in there, I’d have him do it.” 

Now it’s your turn to laugh. 

“Yeah, that would go over well.” 

Din ignores your quip as he comes up to your side and nudges you with his boot. 

“Hey! Can you not?” You turn your head to bite out at him even though he can’t see you. 

“Scootch over,” he demands. “I need to see what you’re doing so you don’t blow the ship up or something.” 

“Wow, it’s really reassuring to know how much faith you have in me, Mando.”

You swear you hear him bite down on a laugh and you smile despite yourself. You squash yourself to the side as much as you can, allowing a small gap so Din can peek in beside you. He groans as he lowers himself to his belly. 

“Poor old man,” you can’t help but tease. “Bad knees getting to you?” 

“Shut up,” Din quips. 

You don’t actually know how old Din is, but you’re placing your bets on late thirties or early forties. Definitely older than you either way, but not quite old enough to be deserving of your quips. That’s not going to stop you, of course. 

By the time he’s looking inside, you’ve untangled the mess of wires and separated the two that need to be switched. 

“Damn it, Mando, you’re blocking my light. I can’t see shit.” 

He sighs for the umpteenth time today. 

“Really? There’s plenty of light,” he argues. 

“Yeah, maybe when you have a fucking night vision mod in your helmet. Get up and tell me what to do from there.” 

He obeys but you swear you hear him mutter something about being bossy through a groan. 

“What have you done so far?” 

“I’ve separated the red and blue wires from the rest.” 

“Okay, go ahead and pull them both from their outlets.” 

You try to pull them off, but you can’t quite reach the outlets on the back wall. 

“Damn it,” you mutter. 

You shove your knees under yourself and arch your back in attempt to push yourself further into the wall. Straining a bit, you’re able to grasp both ends and successfully tug them towards yourself. 

“Got it, what now?” 

“Put the red wire where the blue wire was, and the blue where the red was,” Mando instructs. His voice sounds much raspier than it had a second ago, making you quirk a brow. 

“You okay there?” you ask as you finish the task. 

“Yup,” he croaks. 

“Okay, I’m coming out.” 

You start to wriggle yourself back, and you hear Din make a strangled sound before biting down on it. It’s not until you feel your ass waggling with your movement that you realize what has him so worked up. A sly smirk quickly spreads across your face as you decide there’s no harm in teasing him a bit. 

You groan and arch your back further as you back out, your ass up in the air as much as you can get it. You take your sweet time sitting up once you're out, and you can almost feel the heat coming from Mando by the time you do. You turn around to face him only to find that he’s avoiding your gaze, his hands clasped together casually in front of his crotch. You honestly wonder who he thinks he’s fooling—there’s not much that could hide a tent that size. 

“What’s the matter, big boy?” you ask sweetly. “You look a bit flustered.” 

“N-nothing.” 

You have to physically bite down on your lip to avoid laughing at his voice crack. You’ve never heard him struggle so much. He clears his throat and tries again. 

“Nothing’s wrong, cyar’ika.” 

“Hm. You sure? Because I’m pretty sure you were checking my ass out a second ago.” 

Din chokes on nothing as soon as the words are out of your mouth. 

“I was not!” He bites out in a panicked tone. 

“Nothing wrong with it, I get it. I’d check out my ass, too,” you laugh and shrug. He looks down at his feet and your brows furrow. This might be the most flustered you’ve ever seen him. 

“Dude, it was just an ass, not a big deal. I’m sure you’ve seen much more than that,” you chuckle lightly. 

He slowly looks up at that, and time comes to a stop as things click into place in your head. 

“Holy shit,” you say, bewildered. “You haven’t seen more than that. You’re a virgin aren’t you?” 

You grin when he says nothing in response. No fucking way the Mandalorian hasn’t fucked or been fucked before. Hell, you’ve wanted to fuck him since you came aboard this junk pile of a ship. Damn, you’re going to take this opportunity and fucking run with it. 

“Poor baby Din, never had pussy before,” you coo at him as you stand all the way up. “What’s the matter? Is it too small? Maybe you don’t even like pussy. You want a big strong man to fuck your ass?” You know you’re just spouting anything you think might get under his skin at this point. 

“N-no,” he bites out, though there’s not much conviction behind it. You continue walking towards him, forcing him toward the cockpit’s pilot seat. 

“No? You don’t like cock, Din?” 

“I think you need some help, big guy. You clearly need someone to dominate you, since you don’t have the balls to step up yourself. You’re lucky I’m here, I can show you how good it can be.”

Din’s hands move closer to his clothed cock to hide the twitch that ensues from your words. You see the movement and it only spurs you on. He gulps again as you keep walking toward him.

“No, I-”

“Take a seat, Mando.” 

He crosses his arms and stands up straighter, leveling you with a defiant stare you can practically feel through his beskar helmet. 

“I will do no such thing.” 

“Oh,” you reply, crossing your arms and returning the look. “But you will.”

You glance down at the impressive bulge in his flight suit, smirking when you catch him shift ever so slightly under the weight of your gaze. 

“I think you want to sit down for me, Mando. And I think you’re going to be begging for my cunt by the time I’m done with you.”

You take a step toward him, and you can see the subtle way he stops himself from taking a step back in response. You stop in front of him and let your hand down to graze his covered length. There’s a sharp intake of breath barely heard throughout the hull. If you had been standing where you were a few seconds ago, you would have missed it. 

“Sounds like you already want to, actually.” 

You cup him fully now, and a strangled sound slips through his tightly sealed lips. 

“Poor little virgin Din, doesn’t even know how good he could have been feeling all this time,” you tease, giving him a light squeeze. 

“S-stop,” he grits out, uncrossing his arms to grab your wrist with one hand. Your movements come to a swift stop. 

“Ask me again, and I will,” you tell him. “But I don’t think you really want that, do you? I think you want to stick your dick inside my warm pussy and come your dumb little brains out.”

There’s a brief silence as you stare each other down, and you can almost feel the way he starts to consider his options. 

“I-”

You give him another squeeze, tighter this time, and his hips buck forward as another animalistic sound tumbles from his tongue. 

“Fuck, please,” Din whines as he gives up trying to hold back. You grin wildly at the sound. 

“Please, what, Din? What do you want?” 

“P-please fuck me!” 

Your hand flattens against him and starts to rub sensually up and down, giving him enough friction to have him shivering with each pass. 

“Okay, baby. Sit down like I told you to, and I’ll take care of you.” 

He nods as you start to lead him backwards, the back of his knees hitting the cockpit chair and forcing him to follow your instructions. 

“What a good boy,” you lean forward to coo at the side of his helmet, right where his ear would be. “Why don’t you take your cock out for me?” 

You push yourself away from him, your hands placed on either arm rest as you lean over him. Din hesitates for a moment, clearly not used to the kind of vulnerability you’re asking him to surrender. 

“Go ahead, baby. I promise I won’t make fun.” In fact, you know you won’t. Judging by the massive tent in his pants, there is absolutely no way that Din Djarin is anywhere near small. Not that you’ll tell him that, of course. 

You stare intently as he gulps and lets his hands trail down to unbuckle his belt and shakily pull his zipper down, revealing his boxers. He waits a beat before pulling himself completely out, and you have to fight to keep your jaw from dropping when he does. 

“Holy shit, Djarin,” you gawk. “Well, your dick definitely wasn’t the problem. Scared some people off if anything.” Honestly, it almost scares you. You don’t think your hand could even fully wrap around it if you grabbed it right now. 

You look back to his helmet, making what you hope is eye contact. Judging by the way he shifts in the seat, you’re pretty sure you’re spot-on. 

“You’re so pretty, Din. It’s a shame nobody’s ever told you.” 

“T-thank you,” he breathes, his head turning slightly. 

“I want you to put your hands on the armrests while I show you how pretty I think you are.” 

He hesitates, obviously still not sure about any of this. 

“Go ahead,” you prompt. “Unless you want me to cuff you to the damn chair.” 

At this, he quickly obeys your request and lets his hands go to grip the rests. His cock slaps up, hard and leaking against his covered stomach. He twists his neck all the way to the side, avoiding eye contact as much as he can manage. As much as he’s resisting giving in, you can see how his chest heaves with desire. In this case, the lust is simply stronger than the embarrassment. 

You quickly bring a hand up to grab at the bottom of his helmet, roughly jerking his head back to look at you. 

“You’re going to watch me while I suck your cock. If I see you look away, you’re not going to like what happens after.” 

Din shivers and nods, shaken slightly by your authoritative tone. 

“Say ‘yes, ma’am’.” 

You watch his throat bob as he gulps down his nervousness. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathes out. 

“See, you can be such a good boy when you put your mind to it.”

You slink down to your knees and place your hands on his thick, tense thighs. With your eyes level with his cock, you’re able to watch the way a spurt of precum dribbles down from the tip. 

“Look at that, baby. Little dick is drooling already and I haven’t even touched you.” 

Din tenses and clenches his hand but makes a point not to look away. Good, at least you know he’s listening. Who knew how easy it is to tame a Mandalorian? A little humiliation and degradation can go a long way. 

You lean forward, grabbing hard onto his thighs in reminder to keep his hands where they are as you stick your tongue out to scoop up the precum leaking down his shaft. His hips jut forward, and you swear you hear a quiet whine from his helmet. You can’t help but chuckle lightly.

You decide not to waste your time with little licks, and instead lean forward to take his entire tip into your mouth. Now you definitely hear a whine. You struggle to shove more of him into your mouth and down your throat, his girth making it much more of a task than it needs to be. 

You can feel yourself getting wetter just from the thought of how deliciously he would stretch you out in other places. It really is a damn shame he’s kept this absolute monster tucked away for so long. 

His fingers twitch at the same time his head slams back into the headrest, though he keeps it angled down so he can keep watching you. You have to swallow a few times to work him all the way down, and by that time you can almost feel the way he’s tightened up to restrain himself. 

You take pity on him and pull back, resisting the urge to gag as his weight drags across your throat again. A string of spit connects you to his shiny cock as you smirk up at him. 

“Tell me how it feels, sweet boy.” 

“F-feels s-so good, c-cyare,” Din squeaks. 

“Yeah, you want more?” 

He nods furiously and you immediately flick the tip of his swollen cock, earning you a strangled yelp as his hips buck wildly. 

“What’s the matter? Finally got your dick wet and suddenly you forget how to speak?” 

He begins to shake his head before catching himself and giving you a verbal response. 

“N-no–I mean, yes, yes I want more! Please touch me,” he thrusts his hips forward again, though you're not sure if it’s voluntary or not. 

“Alright, since you asked so nicely.” 

You quickly grasp him and start to pump him furiously, leaning to him again to drool on his tip. The extra lubricant makes your hand glide more smoothly, your pace picking up to the point where you can see his balls drawing up. 

You work your mouth in tandem with your fist, worshiping his throbbing cock with open mouthed kisses and gentle nips on the exposed skin. You close your eyes for a second to savor the way he feels between your lips, and the salty flavor that graces your tongue. If you died with Din Djarin’s dick in your mouth, you would die a happy woman.

“C-cyare, I-” 

He cuts himself off as you quickly pull yourself away, leaving him with nothing but your cooling spit to focus on. 

“No, no, no–ung–I, p-please!” 

You laugh at him as he thrusts up, trying to find some kind of friction. His voice sounds wet, almost like there are tears in his eyes. 

“Aww,” you stand back to admire his writhing body. “Poor thing can’t remember anything but ‘please’. That’s cute. Not hard to get you dumb, is it, Mando?” 

You start to strip in front of him, and his hands come up from the armrests. 

“You better not be moving your fucking hands, Din,” you warn. “I know where you keep those damn binders, don’t think I won’t use them.” 

He groans but lets his wrists back down. His feet shift instead since there’s nothing else he’s able to move at the moment. He whines again as your top comes off with your bra, and then your pants with your panties. 

Fully naked and obviously soaked, you stalk toward him yet again, stopping to place your hand on his shoulder as you climb into his lap, careful not to touch his cock just yet. You settle your thighs over the tops of his and spread your legs. 

When you look up at him, he’s staring you back in your eyes, refusing to look down. You smirk once you realize why. 

“Don’t get shy on me now, baby boy,” you say. “Go ahead and look at my pussy, I know you want to.” 

You watch him slowly lower his gaze and breathe out a curse once it lands on your seam. Leaning forward, you whisper again to the side of his helmet. 

“You can move a hand, Din. Spread me open.” 

He visibly trembles at your command but lifts an arm none-the-less. You feel his fingers trail gently down to where you want him, but he stops just short. 

“T-take my glove off, please. Want to feel you, cyar’ika.” 

You smile at him and carefully bring his hand up to pull his glove off, his dick twitching as you do so. You lick your lips as a tanned and scarred hand is revealed. It’s ridiculous how attracted you are to that simple appendage. You wish you could see his entire body, but you know that’s not a likely scenario. 

Once his glove is discarded on the floor, he moves back to your cunt and sucks in a harsh breath as he feels you. 

“You’re s-so wet,” he says in a way that makes you unsure if he meant to say it out loud or not.

You laugh quietly and guide his hand so that he can prod at your hole, to which he chokes. 

“That’s all because of you, sweet boy.” 

You move your hips forward, and his fingers slip through your seam, your slick collecting on the rough pads. You grasp his wrist to bring his hand to your lips, opening your mouth to suck your tang of the digits at the same time as you let your pussy push against the underside of Din’s cock. 

Another animalistic noise accompanies the way his entire body jolts at the sudden contact. With a pop, you pull his fingers from your mouth to make room for the giggle that bubbles up from your throat. 

“Poor baby’s so sensitive!” you exclaim as you grind against him, making him groan with each pass. Both of his hands grip down hard, one on the rest and the other on your thigh. The man has a fucking grip, you’re sure there will be five little bruises littered across your skin tomorrow. You wonder how good that grip would feel on your hips as he drills himself into you from the back, and file that thought back for another day. 

You shudder as his tip bumps up against your clit, sending little shocks up your spine and making you dizzy. 

“Gonna fuck you now, baby boy,” you breathe. “You want that? Want to stick your cock inside me?” 

“I-ungh-yes, yes!” 

“Yeah?” you ask as you keep up your movements. “Beg for it.” 

“P-please,” Din asks a bit too quietly for your liking. You would bet all the credits you won that he’s blushing under that armor right now.

“Oh, come on now, you can do better than that.” 

There’s a short moment where you think Din isn’t going to do it, and a lump of disappointment gets stuck in your throat. Luckily, he doesn’t make you sit with it for too long. 

“Please, please put my d-dick in your pussy, want to feel you, please! I-I can’t–I want–”

In the middle of his babbling, you lift yourself up and line his cock with your entrance, slowly lowering yourself down. His hands fly to your hips at the same time his thoughts fly from his brain, unable to think of anything but the way your tight pussy is parting to welcome his fat tip. 

He’s never felt anything quite this pleasurable before, the sensation nearly blinding him as you work yourself down onto him. 

Your head tilts back as Din holds onto your hips for dear life. The combination of that pressure along with the burn from his cock stretching you out is almost too much. You can feel a heat bubbling at the base of your spine, and he’s not even all the way inside of you yet. 

“Oh, god, that’s so good, Din. You’re so good.” 

He whimpers in response, though part of that may be due to the fact that your hips are now flush to his. You’re both panting, a sheen of sweat coating both of your bodies. You can’t see the perspiration on Din, but you can feel the moist heat emanating from him. 

You open your eyes, not realizing they had been closed in the first place. You’ve never been this fucking full in your life. You swear you can feel him all the way up to your throat.

“M–plea–please move,” Din begs and lets his helmet rest on your forehead. His entire body is shaking with the effort of not blowing his load too quickly. 

You grant his request, starting to rock your hips as you bring a hand to settle on his neck, delighted to find a damp mess of curls peeking out from his helmet at the nape. Din gasps as you tug lightly while lifting your hips. 

You start a slow but steady rhythm, your skin slapping against each other each time you bottom out. His heavy cock drags against your walls, making your toes curl. A little whine sneaks out from Din’s concealed lips every time you sink down on him. 

A lewd moan tumbles from your lips as you feel him punch against your cervix, tucking in further than you’ve ever been able to reach before. 

“Fuck, Din! You’re so deep, baby!” 

“I’m not g-going to last l-long, Meshla,” Din strains. 

You ride him harder, taking that as a challenge. The tight thatch of hair at the base of his cock catches on your clit as you slam down on him, bringing you further to the brink. Something white hot flashes within your body, blinding you momentarily. 

You’re not even able to tell him you’re close too before you’re clamping down on him, and he’s shouting as he loses control. Your moans tangle together as you soak his dick, your legs trembling unlike you’ve ever experienced before. 

Din wraps his arms around you as he thrusts up into you, spilling himself within your heat. You’ve never in your life seen or felt anyone come as much as he does. Every time you think he’s done, you feel another spurt of his seed clinging to your walls.

By the time you’re both coming down, your ears have started ringing and your breathing has calmed down enough for you to get a word out, though you’re not sure Mando’s quite capable of that yet. 

“Y-you good?” you manage to gasp. 

You feel Din nod against you, and give yourself permission to lean against him. You’re wrung fucking dry. If this is what it feels like when you’re on top, what might it be like when Din’s in charge? The thought makes your body shudder and your pussy quiver. You sit in silence with him for a while until he finally breaks it with a voice just above a whisper. 

“C-can we do that again?”

You laugh at hearing the last thing you expected to come from his mouth after that. 

“Fucking maker, Din.”

***

Thank you for reading!! Please consider interacting if you enjoyed this!

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #pedro pascal smut #smut #the mandalorian #mando smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fic #the mandolarian #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #mando x reader #mando x you #mando fanfiction #din djarin #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fic #sub!din djarin #sub character #dom reader #sub!character

[sunflowersteves]

Hey!! Congrats on your milestone! So happy for you!! 💕

🌼 Can I please get the prompt 'tap' with Mando? 💕

ty tarren!!! and happy follower celebration to u too!!! and absolutely, love, mr tin can has my heart and I love him sm.

warnings || none, fluff

Din watched as you entertained Grogu, a wide smile on your face as you run in circles near the beach.

The waves crashed against your ankles, sun glistening against your skin. Grogu’s eyes were wide and giggles erupted from his small stature.

Din could feel something swarm beneath his chest—a mixture of warmth and comfort that he wasn’t sure what to make of.

He watched for what felt like hours, the slow motion of your feet padding across the sand and Grogu’s wide smile. He felt whole. He felt happy. It wasn’t something that he had ever afforded himself before, but it was new.

It wrapped around him and gave him a skipped beat of his heart. He would do anything for the two to you, that much he knew. It captured him whole and pulled him down into the peaceful depths of pure desire to love.

He turned around, walking slowly to distance himself. His heart was pounding against his ears and throbbing against his helmet.

He needed to do something different, something to distract him from the encompassing feeling that was going to swallow him whole.

He tended to his ship. He made as many modifications to the smaller ship as he could possible. It didn’t take long, though. The ship had much easier maintenance than the Razor Crest—no matter how much he missed the grey ship.

He could hear you before you even started walking up to him. You whispered sweet words to Grogu and his chest thumped hard when he heard the words, “your dad,” leave your lips.

You had Grogu in your arms. His little body was slipped over in exhaustion and he made little hums, as if to acknowledge he was listening to you.

You stop near the ship and look up at Din. He busies himself even more, the distraction barely working anymore. You reach up and tap him on the shoulder, it was so gentle he almost couldn’t hear the sound of his beskar. He turns around, the urge to be near you was encompassing his thoughts and he couldn’t help it.

“I think we should find an Inn soon.”

He nods. He drops the hypo wrench into his basket of tools. He takes a step closer and your chest restricts—the feeling of warmth spreading through you.

He pauses, trying to find the right words. “You’re good at that.”

Your head tilts to the side. “At what?”

You’re very clearly out of breath. You were heaving up and down, a bead of sweat glistening against your temple. He had worn you out with all of the playing around. The little baby in your arms just snuggles closer into your chest.

“Taking care of him.”

You hum, a smile stretched out onto your face. “You’re good at that too.”

He wants to shake his head, but he doesn’t. He knows his morals aren’t always the best, but he tries. He really tries.

Instead, he continues to stare at you—heart seizing in his chest at the sight of his little family right before him.

“Cyare?”

Your heart skips at the nickname. “Yeah, Din?”

“I…I, dank ferrick, I lo—” He curses at himself, at the world. He couldn’t say those three little words even though he knew he felt them.

“I know.” You say, smile wide and cheerful. Din almost glows in return. You know. Holy shit, you know.

You caress the cheek of his helmet, and he almost preens into you—even if he can’t feel it. “I love you too.”

#vic’s spring time sleepover ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [8]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: pining, it’s mutual, they’re both just oblivious to the other, mention of fake name use, also I didn’t proofread this as much as I should’ve probs (that’s a warning right?)

Word Count: 3,494

Summary: When  you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a   Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child.   However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night,  you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a  far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned  out to be  exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you  fall more  and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears  its ugly  head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Ch. #08: YOU’RE HIS HOME

Chapter Summary: First day of school, first day of school!

"I feel this gravitational pull towards you. Like the universe & all the galaxies had a talk and said, 'yeah, it's time'." -Gawn Birdie (On How We Find The One)  

You had a weird mix of excitement, anxiety, and trepidation swirling in your gut. It was Grogu’s first day of school. You were excited at the prospect of him having fun, learning, and making new friends, but it didn’t dull the anxiety you felt. What if the other kids were mean to him? What if he hated it? You wondered if this was how your mother felt on your first day of school. Not that you were his mother, you reminded yourself. As you cooked breakfast, you scoffed and shook your head. You were the nanny. You couldn't let that line in the sand blur.

 “Nanny.” You mumbled to yourself plating Grogu’s favorites. An omelet and fruit. You called out for the kid. “Grogu! Breakfast!���

 You set his food onto his high chair’s tray and began to move around the kitchen packing his favorite snacks to take with him. Grogu’s happy babbling made you glance over your shoulder. He bounded into the room and you picked him up to place him in his seat.

 “Are you excited for school today, Grogu?” You asked while packing.

 “ ‘lek!” He replied, voice muffled from a mouthful of food.

 You paused in your work to reach out and rub his head. “Can you say that in Basic? Can you ‘yes’?” He repeated the word though it came out sounding more like ‘ye’ then ‘yes’. You understood him though which meant his teacher would too if it came up. You lightly bopped his nose with your finger. “Good job, baby. So smart.”

 Grogu preened at your praise. You wondered if he would speak up at school. Maybe not initially, but how long would it take for him to grow comfortable enough to do so? Even if he didn’t speak, he had never had a problem conveying to others what it was he wanted, but you wanted him to practice more.

 “Morning.” Mando greeted.

 He stepped out from the back hall into the kitchen wearing his full suit of armor. You returned his greeting with a smile. “Good morning.” Mando walked around the kitchen island to sit at the bar stool next to Grogu’s high chair. Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Shouldn’t you be heading out?”

 “I’m going in late. Wanted to be there for his first day drop off.”

 A slow smile grew on your features. You already knew Mando was an above average father, but it was little moments like this that were a reminder. It was one of the many things you found you liked about the man. You motioned to the stove. “You want me to make you breakfast?”

 “No.” Mando raised a hand to shake it. “Don’t worry about me.”

 With a nod, you set the dishes you used to make breakfast into the sink and ran some water into each item briefly. “Hey,” You turned back to Mando as you dried your hands on a dish towel, “I’m gonna run and change then grab his book bag to pack up real quick. Is that alright?”

 Mando chuckled. “I think we can survive, but I’ll call out if breakfast takes a bad turn.”

 You rolled your eyes in amusement and left the kitchen. It wouldn’t take you long to change out of your pajamas into simple day clothes. Just something that would keep you from looking like a bag lady on the streets. Once ready, you swung by Mando’s room to snag the small book bag he had bought for Grogu over the weekend. While in the room you found Grogu’s drawer and packed an extra change of clothes for the boy just in case.

 “Grogu, you’re making a mess.” Mando’s voice drifted toward you as you walked down the hall back into the kitchen. You spotted him standing in front of the high chair trying to keep Grogu from trying to swallow half his omelet whole. The innards were beginning to fall out. “Ad’ika, nayc.”

 “Did breakfast take a bad turn?” You called out.

 Mando glanced over his shoulder with a sigh. “Apparently. I spoke too soon.”

 He wrestled the omelet out of Grogu’s hands and you didn’t step in to help. Instead, you packed the snacks you made into the bag alongside the extra set of clothes. Bag ready to go, you turned and leaned on the kitchen counter to just watch Mando try and clean Grogu while he continued to stuff more omelet into his mouth. These were the kind of mornings you could get used to way too easily.

 Grogu disappeared into the building with the other students, and though he could no longer be seen, you and Mando stood there staring for a second longer. The walk to school had been a cheerful event of letting Grogu walk on his own and following behind him. The morning was calm and anyone you passed greeted the three of you happily. As you had neared the city's center, you noted parents walking their own children to the school. When Mando shifted in place, you turned your attention to him.

 “Off to the station?”

 “Yeah.” Mando nodded. “I’m going to try and get off in time to be here with you for pick up.”

 “Alright.” You motioned down the street. “Can I, uh, walk you to work?”

 Mando stayed stock still. You had gotten good at reading his body language, understanding the tilts and nods of his head, catching onto the emotions that wafted off of him, but this still left you clueless. When he stood frozen it gave you nothing to work with. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Sure.”

 The two of you walked side by side in the direction of the station. You let Mando set the pace, and he chose a slow stroll. For the first minute or so, the two of you were in a comfortable silence. You were mentally trying to puzzle out a way to ask Mando the questions bouncing around in your head. You wanted to know more about Mandalorians, but you didn’t want to overstep.

 Mando spoke before you found your words. “How have you been sleeping?”

 “Oh.” You hadn’t expected him to ask about that. “Pretty good. Dreamless sleep. The best kind.”

 Apparently all it had taken to cure you from that repetitive memory was sleeping a few hours in Mando’s bed with Mando and his son. Not the solution you thought you’d find, but you were hardly complaining. In fact, all it took was one night of passing out with Mando and Grogu within reach to make sleeping in your own bed feel lonely. You were even tempted to ask to sleep in the bed again. Tempted, but not stupid enough to actually go through with it.

 “I wanted to, um, ask you about something, Mando.” You started and were caught off guard when he stopped walking to look at you. You offered him a nervous smile. “If that’s okay?”

 “I thought we were past you being timid.” He said. “I don’t want you to be scared to ask me anything, cyar’ika.”

 His words settled your nerves. You chuckled. “I know. I’m not scared, but this…” You shrugged. “I wanted to ask you about your culture and Mandalorians in general. I just didn’t want to blind side you with it.”

 Mando nodded. “I appreciate that.” He began to walk once more and you followed. “Ask.”

 Alright. Now you had to figure out what to ask and what order would be best. You paused to think it over and Mando gave you the time without pressing further. You twisted your lips before just picking one. “You can’t take your helmet off, right? Not in front of anyone but Grogu?” Mando nodded in confirmation. “Why? Is it because he’s your son? Can Mandalorians only show their face to their family?”

 “Yes. There was a period of time where… Grogu was separated from me.” Mando said. You frowned at this. “It wasn’t sudden. I knew it would come. My entire goal was to one day return him to his own kind, but…” He tilted his head. “It was still difficult. He came back though⏤ to stay. Once I knew I wouldn’t have to lose him, we went through gai bal manda.”

 “What’s that?”

 “An adoption ceremony. At that point, he officially became my foundling.” Mando finished. There was a beat before he added a clarification. “That’s why I can show him my face. If I married, I could show my riddur my face as well.”

 You connected the dots. “Riddur.” Whenever you spoke Mando’a it sounded so awkward, but you loved when Mando spoke it. The way the words rolled off his tongue in that hoarse voice. “Wife?”

 “Yes.”

 “Okay.” You hummed. “Is it safe to assume you don’t have a riddur?”

 Mando let out a breathy laugh. “It’s safe to assume that, yes.”

 “Does that mean only Grogu has ever seen your face?”

 This time Mando didn’t reply immediately. But, in the same way that he gave you the time to think through a question, you gave him time to think about his answer. After a minute passed, you were worried you had insulted him in some way. You didn’t think that question was so bad.

 “I was a foundling.” Mando said. “A Mandalorian saved me and took me in. As a child, I took the Creed. That’s when I was given my first helmet. No living creature saw my face until recently.” You listened intently as his spoke. His voice stayed firm and strong, but there was an underlying tone that conveyed his hesitance. “I showed my face to save Grogu then again to say good-bye. I never should’ve put the helmet on again.”

 Your eyes widened and you nearly tripped over your feet. “What do you mean?”

 “In showing my face, regardless of the reason, I broke my Creed.” Mando admitted. “I…” His feet slowed to a stop again and when you paused beside him he shifted to face you a bit. “I am not Mandalorian any longer. I am an Apostate.” You weren’t sure how to respond to that. It seemed silly to you that a man so dedicated to his creed and people could be exiled simply for showing his face⏤ especially since he did so to save Grogu. However, this was not your religion. It wasn’t your place to input your opinion into the conversation. The creed, no matter how ridiculous it seemed to you, was extremely important to him. You respected that. You respected him. Mando sighed, “I have to travel to Mandalore. Bathe in the Living Waters found there in order to redeem myself.”

 “I thought…” You narrowed your eyes, “Wasn’t Mandalore glassed? I heard stories that⏤ that the world was destroyed.”

 “It was.” Mando nodded. “There are rumors that the planet has recovered enough to be visited. It’s no longer poisoned.” There was so much hope in his voice that it brought a small smile to your face. “I planned to go, but Karga offered me the role of Marshal here. As much as I wanted to go…” Mando didn’t speak for a moment, his hands drifted to his hips as he shrugged. “Grogu deserves a home. A safe place to grow.”

 You tilted your head a bit, trying to gauge how to word this, “Right, and I think it was very… honorable of you to make that decision, but you should know, Mando.” You lifted a hand to set on his arm, the beskar cool to the touch. “You’re his home.” Mando stared down at you silently. It was scary how powerful Mando’s gaze could be considering his face was hidden. Maybe that was for the sake of the universe. You weren’t sure you could withstand looking directly into his eyes. “That kid adores you. Wherever you go in the universe, home is when he’s with you.”

 Mando gave you a slight nod, appreciative, and he cleared his throat. “Thank you. For saying that. You didn’t have to.”

 “I’m just stating the obvious, silly.” You laughed. The two of you began to walk again in peace. There was a small pit in your stomach as you realized you’d never see his face. You’d never know what Mando looked like. It didn’t matter, not really, but you were much too curious to not mourn that realization. He was still Mando. The man who hired you to care for his son, your friend the Marshal and Mandalorian. Regardless of the technical definition, he’d be Mandalorian in your eyes. You had never met a man as strong, admirable, loyal, or honorable as him. So, nothing would change, but you’d always wonder.

 ‘Brown’, you thought, ‘He has to have brown eyes’. Maybe a soft brown like sunlight passing through a glass of amber whiskey. It had to be warm though. That’s what being around him felt like, that’s what you imagined his gaze to radiate. Lying in the grass letting the sun pour over your skin. A thick blanket being wrapped around you on a cold, winter night. A mug of caf held between your hands. It didn't matter that he was covered head to toe in the silver, cool to touch beskar. Mando was just warm.

 “What are you thinking about?” Mando questioned.

 Your eyes widened at being caught. You couldn’t exactly tell him you were daydreaming about the color of his eyes. Instead, you held up two fingers. “Two more questions.” He nodded. “First, that thing you do with Grogu, where you set your forehead against his, is that a Mandalorian thing or just a you thing?”

 “Mandalorian.” He answered. “Kov’nyn.” You repeated the word and Mando chuckled at the sound. “It’s…technically it means head butt. It’s a way of showing affection.”

 “Mandalorians would use a type of attack to show love.” You snickered. Mando surprised you by stepping close enough to lightly bump his shoulder into yours as you walked. Up ahead, you could see the station coming into view. “Is it just a family thing?”

 “No. Any kind of affection. Friends, family, lovers. It just depends on the context of the action.”

  “Alright,” You nodded and came to a stop outside the station’s front doors. Mando stayed beside you giving no intention of running in. “Can I ask you my second or am I out of time?”

 “Ask, cyar’ika.” Mando chuckled.

 You pointed at him. “That. What does that word mean? You never told me.” You watched his shoulders stiffen. The movement so minute you nearly missed it. You crossed your arms with a playful smirk. “Come on. It can’t be that bad. You’re not walking around calling me an idiot or something are you?”

 Mando scoffed. “Never.” You raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed. “It just means… The best translation is…” He shrugged. “Sweetheart. I suppose.” The smirk fell off your face and a warm sensation ran through your veins. This entire time, he had been calling you sweetheart? You knew that technically didn’t mean anything romantic, but the term of endearment made you soft regardless. Mando held his hands out toward you as if you were a startled animal about to run. “I can stop. I didn’t mean⏤”

 “No.” You shook your head, pasting a smile on your face. “Don’t.” He tilted his head and you cleared your throat feeling embarrassed yourself at how that sounded. “I, um, it doesn’t bother me. I like it.” To be honest, coming from Mando, you would rather him call you that than the fake name you had given. It felt right. You reached out to lightly knock your knuckles against his chest. “I guess this just means I need to find a nickname for you, huh?”

 “I guess so.” Mando chuckled. “What’re you going to do today?”

 “Huh.” Your eyebrows raised at the question. You honestly hadn’t thought about what you were going to do with all the free time you had while Grogu was at school. “I don’t know. Maybe clean up the house some. Go shopping? We need groceries. Uh…”

 Mando set a hand on your shoulder. “Do something for yourself today. Relax.”

 “I don’t know if my boss would be happy with me lounging on the job.” You joked.

 He shook his head. “I wouldn’t lose any sleep worrying about that, cyar’ika.” You bit down on your lower lip hearing his term of endearment for you come from him. Mando’s hand trailed down your arm to lightly squeeze your hand. “There isn’t much your boss wouldn’t let you get away with.”

 Mando’s hand fell away from yours and you watched him trail into the station. As you stared at the door where he disappeared you repeated the mantra in your head repeatedly. He’s your boss. Mando was off limit. He was just your boss.

 The day was non-eventful and dragged on slowly. Din had a feeling it had something to do with Grogu’s first day of school. It felt odd to send him into the building without someone by his side⏤ someone he trusted explicitly. He knew how important it was though, and Din didn’t want Grogu to feel any of the hesitation he felt. Din didn’t want it to ruin Grogu’s day.

 Though he had been so worried to drop Grogu off, he was excited to see how his son’s first day in school went. His feet carried him down the path back towards the school. Walking down the street of Nevarro, the same one he did this morning, his thoughts drifted to you. Din didn’t think he was going to end up talking to you about his Creed or his postponed future plans to travel to Mandalore to redeem himself. He surprisingly felt good about the conversation though. He liked that you knew that about him⏤ he wanted you to know that about him. It was an important part of his life, and you were slowly becoming important to him as well.

 The smile you wore when he told you what ‘cyar’ika’ meant was going to haunt his every dream for the foreseeable future.

 In the distance, he saw a small crowd standing outside the school. Parents waiting for the class to end. Din scanned the mass of people quickly and found you standing off to the side waiting patiently as the others did. Maker, you were pretty. Every single day it seemed like he noticed something new to admire. You were a kriffing work of art. Din could bask in your glow all day and never tire. As if you could feel his gaze, you turned and noticed him. Your face brightened with a grin, your hand lifting to greet him, and Din swore he felt his heart stutter. Dank farrik, you had him feeling like a teen with his first crush.

 “Hey, Mando!” You said as he grew closer. “How was work?”

 “It was fine. Non eventful. Did you spend some time relaxing today?”

 You chuckled. “I did. Spent the afternoon reading, and I got lunch with Nima.” You elbowed him in the side, a little nudge. “Plus, I even had time leftover to buy groceries.”

 The sound of laughing children had you both turning to face the school’s doors. A teacher stepped out and said good-bye as a group of older children rushed out. When they had passed, a different teacher led a line of young children out the door and toward the crowd. The kids began to disperse, eager to see their parents, and the teacher confirmed the sighting of each parent before letting them run away. Din saw Grogu bouncing in place, tugging on the edge of the teacher’s skirt, and when she glanced down at him Grogu pointed across the crowd. She nodded happily and Grogu took off away from her.  Din laughed and opened his arms in time for Grogu to leap into his chest.

 “Did you have fun, ad’ika?” Din chuckled again. It was moments like this that reassured Din of the choices he made. Grogu was happy. That was all he could ever really ask for.

 “ ‘lek! Buir,” Grogu continued to ramble on. After a few more lines of nonsensical babbling, Grogu abruptly stopped and turned his head to look around. His eyes landed on you, just a few steps away with a warm look drawn on your features, then reached a hand out to call you closer. “K’olar! K’olar!”

 Grogu was begging for you to come near, and you didn’t need to know Mando’a to understand what his son wanted from you. Din took a step closer, to meet you halfway, and he tried to hand Grogu over to you. Rather than leaping into your arms, Grogu grasped onto one of your outreached hands and just held on while staying in Din’s arms. The action made it so Grogu was nestled between the both of you. You showed no sign of discomfort from being so close. Instead, you held Grogu’s hand, resting your wrist against his arm, and used your other hand to lovingly rub his head. Content with his position, Grogu went back to babbling about his day.

 You listened intently. Nodding along and interjecting with vague questions to encourage Grogu to continue. Meanwhile, Din could only revel in the bubble of bliss that surrounded all of you. Din wanted to wrap one of his arms around your shoulder, pulling you in even closer, and that thought was dangerously tempting. You were Grogu’s nanny. You were off limits.You were not his to hold.

mando’a translations

Ad’ika: son nayc: no Gai bal Manda: adoption ceremony Riddur: spouse Kov’nyn: Headbutt Cyar’ika: Darling, sweetheart Buir: Father Ko’lar: Come

#the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #protective din djarin #good dad din djarin #din djarin #mando x reader #mando x you #Female reader #reader insert #nanny AU #nanny!reader #star wars #the mandalorian/reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #slow burn

[prettypiscesgal]

Just call my name - Din Djarin

Summary: After Mando suffers a head injury, you’re quick to go help, even though he denies he needs it

Warnings: none

Listen while reading:

Ain’t no mountain high enough - Marvin Gaye, Tammi Terrell

“Mando!” You shout, watching him lay on the ground, groaning in pain, his head was lolling back and forth as if trying to keep himself conscious.

He managed to take down the bounty, but not without taking a few blows. You watched as he collapsed on the floor once he completed the bounty. Now, you were sprinting towards him.

“Mando.” You say, collapsing on your knees beside him and shaking his shoulders. “Come on, time to get up. The kid has been whining for you.” You say, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and helping him up.

He groans as you bring him to his feet before he pushes away from you, “M’fine.” He gruffly replies, straightening himself out.

You scoff at him. He always just wants to seem so tough. You know he took a hard blow to the head, you only hope it’s not too bad. You don’t know how to treat it when you couldn’t take off his helmet. “Mando.. You’re stumbling around. Just let me help.”

“N-no, it’s fine.” He stutters out, stumbling towards the ship. “Just need to take a lil nap..”

He sounds drunk and you’re nervous. Why’d he always have to be so stubborn? “Mando, you’re not fine. And you can’t go to sleep, you could have a concussion.”

“Pfft. Concussion? Nuh-uh” You almost want to laugh at how he tipsy he sounds. He turns around to look at you, motioning to himself, “I’m in perfect condition.”

“Really?” You cross your arms, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes. Watch.” He does a couple spins, as if that is supposed to prove anything. Then, he begins to fall toward, catching himself as you reach out, ready to catch him.

He giggles to himself and now you’re really concerned. Tired of his antics, you grab his hand and drag him towards the ship. He stumbles messily behind you, trying to keep up as you drag him.

Stepping onto the ship, you throw him into a chair and go search through the medicine cabinet. The most you can do is find some pills for him to take. You hear a soft cooing and turn around to find Mando on his stomach, feet kicking in the air and he plays with the kid.

“Aww, you’re so cute aren’t you?” He whispers to the little child, rubbing his ears as it happily coos.

You smile to yourself, pulling Mando up by his cape and plopping him back into the chair. Him and the child both whine at the fact you have broken them apart.

“Okay, I found some medicine I need you to take. It’s our best option. Do you have any other injuries?” You asks, wanting know if there is something you can treat without breaking his creed.

“No, ma’am.” He replies, you can hear the smile in his voice and if makes you flush.

“I’ll leave you alone to take it then. Do not fall asleep.” You point a stern finger at him. He nods once in reply.

You pick up the child on your way out, glancing back one more time before climbing into the cockpit. You hear him mutter what sounded like, “Night, mesh’la.”

-

“Mando?” You call out. No response.

You curse as you climb down from the cockpit. You hope he isn’t asleep, but you know deep down he probably is. You just hope his helmet is still on.

You thank Maker when you find him passed out, helmet still on, but at least the medicine is gone. You smile softly, walking over and shaking him.

“Mando?” You whisper, “C’mon, time to get up.”

He groans, shaking his head in protest before turning to look at you. You give him a soft smile, thankful that he isn’t dead.

“How’re you feeling?” You ask.

“Better.” He grumbles, seeming like his old self again, “Sorry about..”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s quite funny to see the big bad Mandalorian giggling and spinning around.”

He lets out an embarrassed chuckle and you know if you could see his face he would be beet red. “Yeah..”

“I’ll go get you some water.” You say, starting to walk away before a hand grabs onto you.

“Thank you.” He says softly, the softest you’ve ever heard him say anything. Your whole face flushes at the sudden intimacy.

“You’re welcome, Mando.” You mutter back at him sheepishly, eyes trained on his helmet as if you could see his eyes from underneath it.

“Din.” He replies.

“Gesundheit.” You reply, turning to leave again and he chuckles.

“No. Din. That’s my name.” You turn back to him in shock.

“What?” You gasp, running back over to him as he stands up on wobbly knees.

“Mando, why would you tell me that?” You rush out nervously, “Is that breaking your creed-”

“Shh.” He replies, cutting you off as he holds your arms, trying to calm you down. “Don’t worry about it, mesh’la”

“You said that last night.”

“Said what?”

“Mesh’la.” You murmur, looking up at his helmet and seeing your reflection in it, “What does it mean?”

He goes silent, just staring down at you. The only sense you have that he hasn’t knocked out again is his hands, which are now brushing down your arm to hold your hands in his. You look down at the gesture with a blushing face.

“Beautiful.” He finally speaks and it catches you offguard.

“Huh?”

“It means beautiful.” He admits, bringing your hand up to his helmet and holding it against where his cheek would be, sighing as if he could feel the touch.

“Are you sure you’re not shitting me and it actually means dickwad or something?” You whisper and smile brightly when you’re met with a deep chuckle.

“I would never lie about something like that.” He whispers in reply and you feel your face heat up. “You’re a little red. You alright?”

You can hear the teasing in his voice and you roll your eyes at him, “Fuck you, Din.”

“Not what I expected to hear when you first said my name, but it still sounds so good coming from you.” He admits and you’re not sure you could get anymore red.

“You know, you should get a concussion more often. It makes you such a romantic.” You tease him and he laughs, bringing his forehead to rest against yours, the cool metal a harsh contrast against your burning skin.

“As long as you take care of me after.”

“You know I always will. Just call my name, Din.”

“I always will, Y/N.”

#din djarin #the mandalorian #mando x you #mando x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #mando x y/n #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian x you #mandalorian fluff #din djarin fluff #grogu djarin #groguthechild #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader

[creedslove]

Hey, can I have a story like this: The reader's dog, whose name is Mando or Grogu, runs away (maybe during a thunderstorm). Fortunately, the dog has a collar with an address and phone number. Pedro is the one who finds the dog and phone calls to the reader. And they meet when he returns dog to her. Of course the reader is grateful so he invites Pedro to dinner and he agrees!

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Warnings: none, just fluff

A/N: this is short and sweet and also kinda silly. I wasn't going to write anything as I'm sick but I figured I would feel better if I spread some Pedro love 💕

You checked your phone each passing second in hopes to see if someone had any news of your puppy. Your sweet little Mando had been missing for more than twelve hours and your heart was shattered. 

Ever since that stupid thunderstorm the night before, your lovely stray pup had run away in fear as the loud thunder noises were too much for his small sensitive ears and when he found just the tiniest gap in the fence after you forgot the door half open, he was gone. 

Luckily to you, Mando had a collar with all the information someone with good intentions could contact you but you were truly worried about someone who didn't have good intentions… you tried avoiding these thoughts but at the same time they kept intruding. Your dog was so cute, you worried someone would also think your dog was cute to the point of keeping it to themselves.

It was mid afternoon when your phone finally rang and you answered in a heartbeat. 

The relief you felt washed over you like a crashing wave when the male voice announced he'd found your puppy. He suggested a bakery some blocks away from your place and you arrived there in less than fifteen minutes. 

You looked all over for your puppy and the moment you heard his small barks you rushed to him, thankful to know your puppy was alright. 

"Mando!!!!" You squealed and saw when he jumped off the man's lap and ran to you, sniffing you all over and scratching your legs softly wanting all the petting in the world. 

You picked him up and giggled, scratching under his ears and chin seeing how he wiggled his tail. You checked on him to make sure Mando was alright and finally took a look at the man who had your dog. Your smile died as you noticed who he was. 

Pedro had a soft smile on his face and took off his sunglasses.

"So… Mando?" He asked finding it amusing how your cheeks took a crimson shade. 

"I-I…" you stuttered feeling so embarrassed and shy at his presence, he was taller than you imagined and he looked stronger too.

And holy shit he was way more handsome in real life than in the picture as if that was even possible. 

"I'm sorry, hi… my name's Y/N and you're Pedro… yeah, my puppy's name is Mando, and I obviously like your work, but I swear to God I don't call you daddy on the internet or keep making glittery edits of your pictures'' you blurted out all at once making him laugh. 

"It's alright, Y/N… I think Mando is adorable and well, he was very hungry and scared when he showed up in my backyard this morning, so I gave him plenty of water and ran by the store to get him some dog food, I hope it's alright" he said gently and touched your hand, seeing you were nervous at his presence. 

You nodded and smiled "sorry Pedro, I know I'm acting weird, I was just not expecting to see you…meet you" you blushed "but it was very nice of you to take care of Mando and return him to me… do you think we could maybe have some coffee or a slice of cake?" You pointed at the bakery entrance and smiled big as he nodded. 

"Sure, let's go, Y/N" he placed his hand on the small of your back and walked you inside. 

You felt so lucky to have found Mando and Pedro in only one afternoon.

_____

Got any requests? Send them in!

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal headcanons #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal request #pedro pascal requests #pedro pascal fluff

[alltheirdamn]

A Bounty for Reward (Mando x f!reader)

CHAPTER 4

Summary: It was bound to happen eventually, right? Warnings: SMUT (finally, finally, finally!!), masturbation (f & m), unprotected PIV sex, creampie, mentions of blood & violence, language, umm.... missing anything else?? Word count: 6.5k A/N: I told y'all it was coming 👀

tag list: @deceiver-of-gods @drunkennunicornn@orcasoul @spacecatbowtie @dins-riduur-anthe

You woke up with a raging headache. Which fucking sucked. But your back had finally stopped aching, and you thanked the Maker that Mando let you use his bed. Last night had been weird between the two of you; something unspoken and tense. You clenched your thighs while you remembered how hard he was when he spoke to you. Maybe your grogginess had played tricks on your brain, but you could still picture the outline of his cock straining against his pants. Being stuck on this ship with him was slowly starting to wither away your self-restraint. For most of your life, you retracted away from any man and their advances; you hated how they stared and spoke to you. Kesi had weaponized your body until you became hollow inside. Men disgusted you. They had only wanted one thing, and you were forced to give it away. But something about Mando made you rethink how a man could act and make you feel. And it was fucking confusing. 

The sound of the cockpit door opening only amplified the throbbing inside your head. You wanted silence— for the first time in forever. As badly as you craved his presence, you craved the solitude even more. Which made no fucking sense since you had spent the majority of the last several days alone. 

“Sleep okay?” Mando’s modulated voice broke the silence. 

“Hmph.” You rolled over, pulling the blanket over your head. The throbbing wouldn’t stop, and it was driving you crazy. 

“Wanna get off the ship?” He asked. 

Of course, you did. You wanted nothing more than to feel the sun on your skin again, to breathe in air that wasn’t recirculating around you. Peaking out from under the blanket, you saw Mando staring at you; helmet tilted to the side. Was he amused with you? 

“Yeah,” you sighed, wrapping the blanket around you as you sat up. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Good. Get dressed.”

Something about the dominance in his voice had you clenching your thighs together again. He watched you unwaveringly as you stood and grabbed your pants from the floor next to the bed. Your head still throbbed, but now so did your cunt. He was screwing with your mind. 

Mando stalked away to open the ramp as you finished putting on your shoes, and you followed him mindlessly. 

“Put this on,” he demanded, handing you your hooded jacket, long since abandoned after the first night. 

You slipped it on, pulling the hood over your head. The idea of leaving the ship had you buzzing with excitement. You knew you were on Nevarro, and maybe you could find an escape–although a small part of you was reluctant to leave. There was a cocoon of safety in Mando’s grasp, but you wouldn’t give up on the hope of freedom just yet.

The sun glared down on you through parted clouds as you trailed behind Mando’s armored body. He had instructed a group of men to carry out the bounties from the carbonite chamber, and now you followed him into the heart of the city, where you were overly aware of the commotion as Mando walked through the crowds. Some eyes lingered on you, and the paranoia began to set in. Was anyone searching for you? You still didn’t know where Kesi had gone, and the fact he was still alive set your nerves alight. You quickened your pace to match Mando’s, afraid of falling behind and into the blur of bodies. 

“Where are we going?” You asked. 

Mando focused on the busy streets as he nodded toward a cantina tucked away into one of the alleyways. 

“Guild business?” You guessed. 

“Something like that,” he huffed.

You trailed him inside, drowning out the mindless taunting of men outside the entrance. You had grown accustomed to their snide remarks and sexualized jokes; it didn’t phase you. But you noticed how Mando sized each of them up, and their words and laughter died out as you walked past. 

The cantina was loud and crowded with what you assumed were other guild members. You were acutely aware of their weapons strapped to their belts. Unease coursed through you as you remembered you were still wanted, and it only made you want to stick closer to Mando. He led the way towards an empty booth near the back of the cantina, gesturing for you to sit. You slid into it, tugging your hood further over your forehead and eyes. 

“Stay here.”

You swallowed, nodding as he turned from the booth and walked away. He joined a man a few stalls over, sliding into a spot with a direct view of yours. It was unclear whether Mando was staring at you or the man before him, the direction of his helmet giving away nothing. 

Minutes passed by without issue, and you grew fidgety in the booth. Your eyes darted around the cantina, wondering how easy it could be to slip out and run. You had done it once before with Mando, but you hadn’t been successful. But he hadn’t been preoccupied last time. He wouldn’t abandon his meeting just to catch you, right? It was laughable even to think he’d let you slip away. Sighing, you shrunk back into the leather padding, slowly returning your gaze to him. His helmet was cocked sideways, facing directly at you. Maker, your heart plummeted into your stomach. He could paralyze you from that stare alone.

So, you played along. 

You gave him a slight grin, leaning your chin into your hand as you eased forward. You watched him, transfixed, and noted how his body straightened. Whoever he was talking to was blissfully unaware of your effect on him. He gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head, and you chuckled. This was fun. Like last night, you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip and observed how tense his body became. He had been so awkward last night with you, and you had considered it may have just been who he was, but maybe it was more than that. Maybe you turned him on, and warmth bloomed in your stomach at the idea of it. Having that sort of power over a man–let alone a Mandalorian—was thrilling. 

The teasing was entertaining until it wasn’t. Shortly after garnering another shake of his head, a drunken patron fell into the booth, his drink sloshing onto the tabletop. You retracted back, hugging your arms to your chest. The man gave you a toothy grin, his words slurring as he introduced himself. 

You lied about your name, offering a polite smile. He took another gulp of his drink, slamming it down all too charismatically. 

“Y’sure are beautiful,” he slurred. “Would like to take you home.”

“You wish,” you rolled your eyes. 

The stench of his breath wafted toward you as you squirmed in the booth. His drunken smile from before was replaced with an apparent frown, clearly displeased with your remark. Reaching over the table, he pawed at your body, trying to find anything to grab. You lurched forward, sending a resounding slap across his face. 

“Don’t fucking put your hands on me,” you growled. Fuck, you wish you had your vibroblade again. 

A few heads turned at the sound, their voices hushed as they regarded the scene between you and the drunken man. He was pissed off now, reaching out for you again, this time more successful with a quick grab of your wrist. You reached for his drink, shattering it against the table. Gripping a piece of the broken glass, you held it at eye-level toward him, a snarl forming on your lips. He held up his hands in protest, eyes glazed over in fear. 

“Do it!” You shouted. “I fucking dare you!”

The crowd around you grew silent, but you could only focus on the glass tightening in your grip. It pierced your skin until you felt the slice of it dig into your palm. The blood dripping from your hand unphased you as your heart thrummed with adrenaline. Let him fucking come near you. Let him try to touch you again. A glint of silver danced in your peripheral, and Mando approached the booth with a hand on his blaster. 

“Out,” he demanded, grabbing the man by the collar. He tossed him to the ground with little effort, his helmet glancing between him and you. You lowered the shard of glass to the table, wiping your palm against your pants. Mando’s chest rose as he inhaled, and he silently extended a hand towards you. Your impulse was to flinch, but you trusted him not to hurt you, so you took it willingly. His gloved fingers wrapped around yours, and you trailed him out of the cantina without another word. 

Pulling you into the alleyway, Mando pushed you against the wall and surveyed your body. Your breath hitched as he grabbed for your injured hand, turning it over to inspect the cut. It was still bleeding, but you had long since forgotten the pain. Everything had been a blur. Tugging it from his hold, you cradled your hand into your chest and stared at the black visor. 

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “Just a cut.”

“He touched you.” It wasn’t a question. 

You only nodded, scanning the alley for any stragglers from the bar. You hadn’t meant to get so angry or violent, but it seemed to be an ongoing thing with these unwanted advances. Kesi had ruined you in the worst way possible. Staring up at the passing clouds, you forced your tears back and focused on breathing. Mando would never take you back out of the ship now that you had gone and made a fool of yourself. 

“Stay here,” he ordered.

**

Mando had been acutely aware of her presence inside the cantina. She had been taunting him with small smiles the entire time as he tried to focus on the conversation with Karga. Had last night sparked something between them? It was clear she was trying to push his buttons, see how far she could take the teasing until he snapped. At this rate, it wouldn’t be fucking long. Under the protection of his helmet, he found his eyes wandering towards her each time she shifted in the booth. 

And then someone slipped into it with her. He stiffened, watching their interaction unfold in front of him. Karga was blissfully unaware of the spectacle as he rambled about taking more pucks, yet Mando had long forgotten what they were discussing. His hand itched towards his blaster as the man leaned forward into her, only to be shocked to see her send a sharp slap across his face. Rage filled his veins when the man did it a second time. But then the sound of glass shattering rattled around the loud cantina, silencing everyone. Her voice raised above everyone as she dared him to touch her again. Mando took note of the glass in her hand and quickly vacated the booth to step in. 

A multitude of thoughts swarmed his mind as he hauled her out of the cantina into the alley. First, someone had put their hands on her. Second, she was a force to be reckoned with when angry. And third, she was bleeding. Mando didn’t know which made him more upset. But the fear in her eyes was enough to make him see red. 

And he had been itching to kill someone since he returned for her on Tatooine. 

Mando pulled the blaster from his hip as he entered the cantina again. The tension in the air was palpable as he stalked towards the man still cowering on the floor. He aimed the blaster at his chest, unphased at the sheer terror in the man's eyes. 

“Mando!” Karga yelled, stepping over the man and into the direct line of his outstretched arm. 

He lowered the blaster, glancing between Karga and the man. His finger twitched against the trigger, just waiting for the moment to shoot. 

“Now, now,” Karga bristled. “No need for violence here! Right?” 

Mando’s jaw clenched, and he stepped towards Karga. He held up his hands in defeat, giving Mando one of his signature grins. 

“Just let it go, Mando,” he urged. 

But Mando couldn’t let it go, no matter how badly he wanted to. He had never been a man to act so impulsively, but the sight of her shaking and bleeding was enough to fuel the rage inside his heart. Every fiber of his being screamed to protect her. 

“Move,” he gritted out. 

“Walk away,” Karga demanded. 

But Mando didn’t falter, nor did his grip on the blaster. He held it at waist level, flicking it to the side until Karga got the hint. He didn’t give a second thought to it as he put a hole in the man’s chest. The rage inside him didn’t let up, but he forced his weapon back into its holster and exhaled for the first time in minutes. 

“I’ll be back in a week with more bounties,” he nodded at Karga. 

Karga had nothing to respond, his focus on the dead man lying on the cantina floor. 

Mando returned to the alley, finding her still standing paralyzed against the wall. Her eyes were rimmed red from crying, and his rage was replaced with some form of guilt that slithered its way into his heart. He should have known taking her here would be dangerous. But she had been trapped within the confines of his ship for nearly a week, and he wanted to grant her some freedom—even if it wasn’t exactly what she wanted. 

“Let’s go,” he grumbled, extending his hand. 

She hesitated. But then she slipped her delicate hand into his, and he led her out of the city and back to the Crest. Mando still buzzed with the lingering anger from the cantina, but he shoved down those emotions and forced himself to focus on her. She was quiet as he guided her to sit on one of the crates, and he searched his med pack for some bacta. He found what he needed, including something to bandage her hand, and crouched in front of her, reaching for her hand. Reluctantly, she let him take it, unfurling the tight fist she had made. The cut wasn’t deep, but enough to scar— a scar that could have been avoided had he not been so selfish in taking her with him. He wanted to give her a moment in the sun, a moment away from this fucking ship. This space between them was growing smaller, and he needed to find any way to create some distance. But they were just spiraling closer together. 

“It’ll sting,” he muttered. 

She nodded, sniffling back more tears. He sprayed the wound and felt her body twitch from the pain. He unraveled the bandage and started wrapping it around her hand. It felt so small in his, so soft, and his fingers worked slowly as he tied it off. Rubbing slow circles over her palm, Mando lifted his head to look at her, only to find she was already focusing on him. Those big doe eyes stared straight through his visor and into his soul—picking him apart piece by piece. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

He mindlessly drew those circles over the bandage until her hand closed around his. With a soft squeeze of her fingers, she drew his hand to her lips and gently kissed his knuckles. The breath stalled inside him, watching as her lips grazed over his gloves. Despite all he had done, all he was, she was giving away small pieces of herself to him. And he selfishly wanted more. But he was undeserving of it, and everything he was raised to become shouted for him to stop. 

“I killed him.”

Her mouth stopped moving against his knuckles. He pulled away and stood over her, her eyes trailing up his body. There wasn’t an ounce of remorse or fear in her eyes when he said those words—instead, a smirk played on her lips.

“Good. Fucker deserved it. Could’ve done it myself if you let me.”

Mando laughed, a genuine one he hadn’t heard in a while. She continued to surprise him. 

“You ever kill someone?” He asked, piecing back together his medpac to stow away.

He looked over his shoulder to see her shaking her head. Something about it relieved him, knowing she didn’t have death on her hands, but she was willing to do it. Mando wondered if her being around him long enough would change that, would make him the dangerous one. 

“I’ve wanted to,” she sighed, standing from the crate and moving towards him. “So many times.”

They were only feet apart now, and Mando felt the thrum of his heart in his chest growing faster. Her hair was disheveled from the hood on her jacket, and without thinking, he reached out to tuck a strand behind her ear. She didn’t flinch from him for the second time today. He felt triumphant knowing he had won her trust, even in the smallest of things.

“I hope you never have to,” he spoke. 

Her eyes were still glossy with earlier tears, but a firmness in her look told him enough. Someone had used her before—in what way, Mando could only guess. He had started piecing together the things she had offered him, and nothing amounted to being a criminal. She didn’t sell spice, she didn’t use it, she hadn’t killed anyone… She wasn’t worth a bounty. Not that she wasn’t worth it, just that she didn’t deserve it. 

“How many have you killed?” She whispered, breaking through his spiraling thoughts. 

“Enough.”

“What does it feel like?”

Mando sighed, letting his hand fall away from her hair. “For a Mandalorian, survival is everything. If death forces us to defend and survive, then it is the only answer.”

“It’s part of your Creed, right?” She asked.

Sharing something so intimate and sacred with someone other than a Mandalorian felt foreign to him. 

“This is the Way,” he nodded.

“The Way,” she echoed.

Then she let out a small laugh, the corners of her lips creasing into her cheeks. Mando cocked his head to the side, trying to understand what about this conversation was so comical.

“I think that’s the most you’ve said to me,” she grinned.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself, too. She was starting to fester her way under his skin, force him out of his comfort zone, and slowly enjoy the presence of another for the first time in his life. He sort of enjoyed it. 

“Bacta might wear you out a bit,” he cleared his throat, quickly changing the subject. “Bed’s all yours.”

She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. Mando made quite the effort not to stare as her forearms pushed up her breasts. 

“Where will you sleep?” 

“Cockpit,” he replied. “Don’t sleep much, honestly.”

“Take the bed,” she insisted. “I’ll be fine on the floor.”

It was tempting—sleeping near her. But Mando didn’t trust himself; didn’t trust he wouldn’t find his way into the bed with her when she clearly didn’t want that. He wouldn’t abuse the trust he had built with her, no matter how much he ached to be between her thighs. Fuck, he needed to let off some steam.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Gonna use the refresher and be on my way.”

She nodded slowly, clearly not convinced, but relented. Retiring to the bed, she gingerly crawled in and wrapped herself in the blanket. Mando watched as she tucked her injured hand close to her chest and noticed her eyes still locked on him. If she looked at him any longer, Mando would lose his cool.

Ducking into the refresher, Mando let the water rain down on him and flood his mind. He was achingly hard, and it wasn’t long before his hand wound around his cock, stroking slowly. He tried hard not to picture her, her big eyes, or how she’d bite her lips. He tried not to think of her legs wrapped in his sheets or the swell of her breasts under her shirt. But the harder he squeezed his cock, the stronger those thoughts became. He imagined how tight she’d feel around his cock, and the noises she’d make. He stroked himself faster, feeling his muscles tense on the precipice of release, and with one long stroke, he was grunting into the tile walls and spilling himself onto the floor.

**

You tried to erase the sound of his orgasm from your mind; you really did. But Mando had long since retired to the cockpit, and you found your uninjured hand snaking down past the waistband of your pants and sliding through your wet folds. You hadn’t imagined those noises—you knew that. You had spent years listening to the disgusting sound of men orgasming, but this was different. His voice was rough and unmodulated, and fuck if it didn’t make your core ache with need. It had been so long since you had touched yourself like this, and part of you knew how embarrassing it was. You were trapped on the ship with your bounty hunter, rubbing circles around your clit imagining how his tongue would feel instead.

Fuck.

Your body wound itself tight as you teased your way closer, basking in that momentary bliss before your climax crescendoed, hoping, for your sake, your noises would be quieter than his. Burying your head into the blankets, you exhaled a moan and felt your body spasm around your fingers. Maker, it was the best orgasm you had in a while. And all you could think about was him. 

Your body was exhausted from the short time on Nevarro, but the bacta was slowly wearing off, making your hand throb in pain. You didn’t regret what you did. And you were telling the truth when you said you wished you had killed him. Maybe that would make you a murderer like Mando, but you wanted to reclaim yourself piece by piece, even if that meant some people had to die. 

Restless in the small bed, you found yourself climbing the ladder to the cockpit and knocking softly on the metal door. A moment passed before it slid open, and Mando looked over his shoulder at you silently. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” you explained. “Can I join you?”

He grunted in response, tilting his helmet towards the empty seat beside him. You squeezed yourself through the small space, taking note of the control panels and functions. You weren’t thinking about stealing his ship, but knowing how it operated was interesting. Plus, the mechanic in you was just eager to see such an old ship and its hardware. The cargo hold had been your sanctuary the last several days, and having a new scenery was a nice change. Seeing the galaxy expand around you in a vastness you couldn’t fathom was even nicer. 

“I’ve never really seen the galaxy like this before,” you commented, leaning forward to watch the stars pass. 

“Really?” Mando asked, his visor focused on the space in front of you. 

You shook your head, a tinge of sadness crawling up your chest. “No. Any time I’ve traveled to different planets, I’ve always been… put away, I guess?” You cringed at even the thought of it.

Kesi made sure to hold you in the shittiest part of a ship when he took you to and from spice trades. You were confined to solitude before meeting his clients and then deposed just as fast. The last few years of your life were spent between ships, inns, and shady cantinas. That’s why you craved your life back on Coruscant—you could go anywhere and do anything. 

In your peripheral, you saw his head turn to you. Your emotions were bubbling to the surface, and you continued to stare out the windshield at the stars instead of meeting his gaze. You didn’t fully trust yourself not to cry. You didn’t cry often; you wouldn’t let yourself succumb to those emotions, but something about the admission left a lingering feeling deep within you. 

“It’s—,” you laughed, trying to shake back the tears. “It’s not a big deal. Really.”

“Kesi hurt you.” 

Mando said it plainly like it was a fact and not a question. There was no use holding back the tears, but you turned away to wipe them, hoping you could still look strong. You were learning how to take back the power that Kesi stole from you—including your own emotions.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said, tucking your legs into the seat.

Mando gave you a stiff nod and leaned back in his chair. Silence surrounded you, wrapping you both in this strange comfort that you didn’t necessarily hate. You enjoyed the quiet, even with him beside you. 

“Where are we going?” You eventually asked.

“Adelphi. Got a bounty there.”

“Can I join you?”

“No,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You weren’t surprised he said no. Bounty hunting was his lifestyle, not yours, and you had to continuously remind yourself you weren’t anything but a bounty to him. But the lines were blurring between being a bounty and being… a friend? Maybe calling him a ‘friend’ was a bit extreme and premature, but you were enjoying the company as much as you could tolerate it. 

You still wished to regain your freedom, but for now, you’d enjoy being in his presence. 

The nav panel started blaring for the descent, stirring you awake in the chair. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, but the planet before you was bright and proved to be a new day. Mando flew the Crest through the atmosphere and towards a deserted beach. The landing was smooth, and before the wheels could finish sinking into the sand, Mando was out of the chair and moving through the cockpit. You followed him into the ship's hull, watching as he collected his sniper from the armory wall and slid it over his shoulder. He grabbed one more thing before shutting it and turning to you. Extending his hand, he revealed a wrist comlink and motioned for you to give him your arm.

“It’s synced up to mine,” he explained, lifting his wrist. “I’ll notify you when I get close to the ship so you can prepare the chamber.”

He wasn’t taking you on the hunt…but letting you help, which meant a lot. 

You let him slide the comlink onto your wrist, and you turned it over to inspect the technology. You’d never used one before, but you had some basic knowledge to get you by. When he called, you would answer; simple as that.

“Won’t be more than a few hours,” he assured you.

“Okay,” you nodded. “Um, be safe.”

Mando tilted his head to the side, and you imagined he was smiling at you. Maybe he was, or maybe he was just as stoic as his voice and body language. Either way, you meant what you said because without him… well, you didn’t really know. You could take the ship. You could fly back to Coruscant. But would you be safe? 

“Be good,” he ordered, his voice strained. 

His words sent a shiver down your spine, as it did every time he was more authoritative with you, and you wondered how many times you could get off before he came back. Idiot. Forcing yourself out of your mind and into the present, you watched him walk out onto the sandy beach and close you back into the confines of the ship. 

Just a few hours, you told yourself. 

Hours later, Mando com’d you to open the ramp. You had busied yourself with the carbonite chamber again, trying to find solutions for the valve issue. You sat down your tools and glanced at him as he made his way into the hull, his beskar dripping in the afternoon sunlight. He had his bounty in tow, this one alive and heavily bruised. His skin was flushed red, even more so with the trail of blood that leaked down his chin. The bounty’s eyes never left yours, his teeth barring a smile scary enough to make your skin crawl.

“Keep moving,” Mando grunted, shoving the bounty toward the carbonite chamber. His helmet glanced at you, confused by the tools at your feet. You shook your head in response, nonverbally giving him the ‘okay’ to use it.

“I didn’t know you kept pets around, Mando,” the bounty’s voice was hoarse, a cough spurting more blood onto his clothes. 

Mando was quick to push the bounty into the chamber, his hand punching the buttons to capture and freeze the tattered body that stood in front of you. There was a momentary pause in the freezing process, but then it started up again to continue. Mando’s helmet looked down at the tools again, slowly raking over your body to meet your eyes.

“What’s this?” he asked, an edge to his tone still noticeable.

“I wanted to see what else I could do to help with the freezing component,” you explained, shifting your weight under his glare. “I thought I would fix it before you returned. It stalled a moment right now, but it just needs a simple system restart to help the carbonite process run smoother.”

“Hmm,” was all he responded.

There wasn’t much space between you and Mando, the smell of smoke intoxicating the air around you. His chest rose and fell with heaviness as if he was recovering from running miles— which he probably had. There was something so infatuating about his demeanor after a hunt; the combative urges inside him still burning under his armor. The emoting rage still fizzled inside his muscles as his hands tensed at his sides. His stare had you paralyzed, your body pressed against the wall of the cargo hold. Something inside you flickered, your core growing warmer the longer he stared. There were so many unspoken words, so many lingering needs. The silence stretched longer, and you began to worry something was wrong. He wasn’t saying anything; he was just standing there.

“Mando,” your voice was meek, more than you expected. All your confidence was forlorn; wanton need taking control of your body.

He stepped closer, hands placed at either side of your head until he had you boxed in, his thigh nudging your legs to spread apart. Instinctively, you did, grinding your hips upward against his knee as he positioned his body in between your legs. You should’ve been embarrassed, but you couldn’t help yourself from giving in to the urges that lingered inside you. His helmet angled down to look at you, and you felt the amusement of his stare even through the visor. You would never see his face, but the fierce need to know the look in his hungry eyes consumed your thoughts. Maker, to see the way his eyes danced with rage and desire was enough arousal in itself.

“Tell me to stop,” he choked out. “You shouldn’t want—.”

“I want this,” you whispered. 

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his chest press against yours. The smell of combat still lingered on his clothes, and you knew he had hurt someone just hours before returning. He should scare you; you should be terrified of Mando in all aspects. But you were undoubtedly infatuated with him, constantly under some spell that continued to draw you in. He intrigued, puzzled, and challenged you to defy all hatred you once had for any man. The closer you got to the fire, the further your emotions were stripped away, burning in the chaos he created around you. 

Taking control, you brought his hand down to your hips, guiding it to your zipper, and moved it slowly under the elastic waistband of your underwear. The leather of his glove was warm to the touch, catching softly on the slick skin of your cunt. His fingers took control, dipping between the wet folds and slowly teasing your entrance. Instinctively, your hips bucked forward, the need for his fingers inside you growing stronger. He knew it, too, as his fingers circled your clit slowly— agonizingly. The ache in your core grew stronger, your heartbeat drumming loudly inside your ears.

“Please,” you begged, your head falling against the wall. 

Mando’s free hand moved to pull your face forward, his hand encapsulating your jaw with a firm grip. His thumb traced over your lips, teasing your mouth open and gathering the saliva that pooled on your tongue.

“Please, what?” His voice darkened, the monster inside him lurking around the corner. All he needed was a nudge; then, you could have what you wanted.

“Fuck me.”

As if a switch flipped inside of him, Mando’s hands moved to yank away your pants, tearing the fabric of your underwear in the sequence of events. It didn’t register in your head how quickly he was able to shove you up the wall and collect your legs around his waist. Your thighs squeezed against his hips, flesh meeting the cool touch of his armor. It rippled goosebumps up your body, the temperature spiking higher in your core. A low growl left his throat as he undid his zipper, angling the length of his cock against the soaking entrance of your cunt. Everything inside you clenched around him, a stinging pain lasting only a second as your body stretched to fit his thick cock. Maker, it hurt, but he felt so fucking good. 

The cargo hold around you grew louder with the mixture of your whines, his grunts, and the disgusting sound of your cunt around his cock. He wasn’t just fucking you; he was wrecking you with each thrust that pounded into you harder every time. Mando’s strength leveraged his control as he gripped your hips high enough to angle himself right at the apex of your cunt. Everything around you blurred into a haze of euphoria and rapture as he brought you to the brink of an orgasm. He could sense it, too, the thrusts coming into a steady rhythm as it hit your core with feverish force. 

“Fuck, Mando,” you gasped.

The shudder that erupted from you paralyzed his movements, your cunt clenching with each throb that rippled through your body. Your nails dug into the fabric of his suit as you muffled a scream into the cowl around his neck.

“No,” he bit out, yanking you back with a fistful of hair. “I want to hear you.”

Mando pulled you from the wall, tossing you down against a wooden crate, toppling a few loose items in the mix. Burying himself to the base of his cock, Mando placed your legs over one shoulder, folding over you as he drilled into you with a force so blindingly hard you couldn’t hold back the screams that escaped you. He was ripping into you, the brute force of his thick cock bringing you to the edge of another orgasm. A gloved hand carded through your hair, gripping the tendrils under the nape of your neck until you had no choice but to stare into the visor of his helmet while you came wholly undone. 

Another orgasm tore through you, tears pouring down your cheeks as you gave way to the release that shook your thighs. Mando let out a satisfied moan, his hips rocking into you slowly, his body tensing up as he spilled himself inside you. He filled you perfectly as if every part of him had been made for you and you alone. 

Mando remained there for a moment, a firm hand rubbing your calves to soothe the tension in your legs. Your head fell back against the crate's edge, your eyes blacking out to the space around you. A thin layer of sweat pooled on your chest, small trails falling down your shoulders and neck. Everything smelled of smoke and sex, and your core clenched again with lingering aftershocks of his thrusts. Mando stifled a grunt, feeling your body respond against his cock, and you felt it growing harder again inside you. 

“Maker,” he exhaled, fingers trailing up your legs as they kneaded the plush skin of your thighs. He dug into your hip bones with bruising force, a small yelp leaving your throat.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispered, bowing his head over your body. 

You moved a leg shakily over his head, situating it on his other shoulder. You had him framed between your legs, staring at the perfect outline of a terrifying man. He could kill you— hell, he even had every reason to do it if he wanted. But instead, he was infatuated with you, the power your body held being a stronger vice than the power to kill you. That power thrummed in your veins, and you desperately latched on to it, afraid you’d lose it again like before. 

Reaching a hand down, Mando made small agonizing circles around your clit. Thrusting himself into you, this time working slower and deeper, his movements were focused on making you cum again. His cock slipped in and out messily, the mixture of his cum and yours being the perfect lubricant to fuck you with.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he grunted, his thumb pressing down on the bundle of nerves that throbbed harder with every stroke. 

“I’m gonna cum again,” you cried, biting your lip to stifle another scream. 

His movements deepened, his hips grinding against your ass as he took you to the base of his cock and kept you there. His weight trapped you, the pressure on your clit sending your mind reeling as you focused on the surge of another release pounding in your abdomen. 

“C’mon,” he crooned, his thumb rubbing harder, “You’re right there, cum for me.”

His voice shot you into another wave of release, your mouth crying out for him. Your legs clenched around his neck, drawing him deeper inside you as the throbbing in your ears grew louder. You could hardly hear him as he punched out your name, cumming again inside you. 

Slumping over your body, the heaviness of his helmet rested on your shoulder as both your chests rose and fell with heavy breaths. His fingers tangled in your hair, smoothing strands from your sticky forehead. You were disgustingly sweaty, the tattered shirt sticking to your skin along with the dirt that rubbed off from his armor. 

“You’re fucking heavy,” you chuckled, pushing against his chest plate. 

Mando let himself rise momentarily, only to fall back onto your chest lazily. Coughing out a laugh, you nudged his side, urging him up from his position. 

“Not yet,” he huffed, helmet settling against your shoulder again. “Just wanna stay here a minute.”

Please stay, you thought to yourself.

#mando x f!reader #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #smut #idk please like it

[samantha-rae-velcher]

Past comes to haunt, future to save

Din Djarin x Fem reader

Requested by: none

Warnings: Jealousy, Swearing, violence, sexual tension, use of a knife, spicy at the end.

A/n: 18+ NSFW if you don't like the Warnings please don't read

___

They had gotten a communication from some guy that Din knew from way back, apparently they used to fly together. Y/n was not happy with this, she could feel something wrong the minute they landed the crest in the hanger.

"I don't like this." She said as Din turned in his chair, getting up to leave the cockpit. "Hey."

Y/n grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop.

"Do you trust this guy?" She asked.

Din looked down at her hand that was gripped to his bicep.

"This doesn't feel right." Her voice came out just above a whisper.

Din gently caressed her cheek, making Y/n close her eyes.

"I don't like this either. Any sign of trouble, we'll leave."

___

Din and Y/n walked around the hanger with the man, he seemed smug. She kept glancing at the ship, making sure no one was fucking with it.

The three of them went back down to the crest, the man introduced them to a guy called Migs Mayfield. And a Droid that looked like a bug they called him Zero. A big red ugly mother fucker with horns.

"That's Burg." Mayfield said.

Y/n made a disgusted face when Burg shaped up to Din, she took note on how her mandalorian didn't budge even when the red man attempted to scare him.

"I thought you said you had four." Din's voice was gruff, it made a shiver run up Y/n's spine.

"He does." A woman said from behind them.

Y/n turned and furrowed her brows at the sight of a purple Twi'lek. Her fists clenched and uncleaned as the woman stalked closer.

"Hello, Mando." She whispered.

"Xi'an."

Y/n looked over at Din, his voice sounded full of adoration. It made her roll her eyes and look at the razor crest.

"Tell me why I shouldn't cut you down where you stand?" Xi'an suddenly came at Mando only to have Y/n's blade against her throat.

"Because I will fuckin kill you." She growled.

The giggle she let out was sickening, it made Y/n sneer.

"You're his new companion?"

Y/n felt Din's hand press against the small of her back, causing her to lower her weapon and step back.

"Its nice to see you too." Din murmured.

Xi'an smiled and came closer to Mando, she ran her knife down his chest plate and made a clicking sound.

"Ive missed you." She tapped it against his armor and attempted to make eye contact through the visor. "This is shinny. You wear it well."

Mayfield looked over with a confused expression.

"Do we need to leave the room or something?"

The main man that called them there, stepped up and pushed his way into this dog shit of an interaction.

"Well, Xi'an has been heartbroken since Mando left our group."

"Awww." Mayfield mocked. "Are you gonna be okay sweetheart?"

"I'm all business now." Xi'an pointed her dagger at Din. "I learned from the best."

Y/n shook her head and flipped her hands in the air, as the jealousy rose in her.

"That's all well and good! Can we get the fuck going!?"

"What's wrong? Are you scared Xi'an will take your Mandalorian owner."

Y/n grabbed Mayfield by the front of his shirt and pulled him close.

"I am not his pet."

"Sure looks like that to me."

___

Y/n, Mayfield, Xi'an, and Burg all sat in the cargo hold as Din was watching over Zero's shoulder in the cockpit.

"How long have you been with Mando?" Xi'an asked.

"Since he collected his bounty and handed me over, but I kicked the ever loving shit out of the men who wanted me. And I snuck back to his ship and opened the door for him when he arrived."

Mayfield's brows shot up his forehead. "You were his bounty?"

"Yeah."

Burg began digging through Dins stuff, opening the door to his weapons closet, only for Din to shut it in his face. The red devil lookin fucker turned and tried towering over Mando again, growling and huffing.

"You wouldn't scare a sleeping kitten. Sit your fat red ass down!" Y/n yelled.

Mayfield joined in. "Im a little particular about my personal space too, let's just get this done and you'll never see our faces again."

"Tell me why we even need a Mandalorian." Burg grumbled.

"Because apparently they are some the greatest warriors in the galaxy."

Burg looked between Mayfield and Din.

"Then why are they all dead."

"You flew with him Xi'an. Is he as great as they say?" Mayfield asked.

"Ask him about the job on Alzok III."

Everyone looked over at Din.

"I did what I had to do."

"Oh but you liked it." Xi'an smiled and pointed her knife at him. "You see, I know who you really are."

"D- Mando....what is she talking about?" Y/n asked.

Din shook his head. "You don't have to worry about it."

Mayfield chuckled. "He never takes off the helmet."

Xi'an fallowed in his humor and shook her head, they looked over at Y/n.

"You ever seen his face?" Mayfield asked.

"No, and if he ever takes off the mask....I hope I'm blindfolded."

"Why?"

Y/n glanced at Din, then back at Migs.

"This is the way."

Her words made Dins heart race. He never knew that she respected his creed, he always thought she found it a nuisance because she couldn't see his face.

"Your just as weak as he is." Burg said in a gruff tone, making Y/n spin around and get right up in his face.

"Neither of us are weak, and you'll find that out come whatever the fuck it is your planning."

___

The group had finally gotten to the prison ship, they were running through the corridors fighting off droids all the while listening to zero over the ear piece.

Y/n pulled Din into a corner, she held her finger up to her lips and kept her grip on his bicep. Four droids passed by, Y/n looked over watching them walk up the hallway. She could feel Dins gaze on her, his thumb came up to caress her cheek.

"You don't have to be jealous." He whispered.

She locked her eyes on his visor, the deep black was almost bone chilling. If he was anyone else, she would be afraid.

"Jealous of what? Xi'an? I'm not."

"I never mentioned Xi'an....you did."

Y/n felt his hand move to her hip, gently squeezing. Her breath hitched at the warmth his hand spread over her body.

"Din I-"

"Hey are you guys coming!?" Migs yelled from down the hall.

The five of them made it to the control room, zero was babbling about a organic signature in the room but Migs didn't listen.

"Yeah yeah, open the door!"

They entered the room and man jumped out of his chair, pointing a blaster at them. Burg and Mayfield circled him, the man was obviously scared.

This went on for a good few minutes, Din trying to talk him into putting his weapon down. Mayfield yelling at din, both of them pointing their blasters at each other.

And it all led to Xi'an killing the poor bastard.

"Would you all shut up." She said in a bored voice.

Din looked over at Y/n who was glaring at Xi'an. He had never seen such anger in her eyes, she looked as if she wanted to kill her.

"You didn't have to kill him."

Xi'an stood, her smile made Y/n sick. "It was quicker than negotiating. none of you had it under control, so I killed him. All you were doing is waisting time."

Xi'an then ran out the door, the others fallowing until Din stopped and turned back to Y/n. She was standing there looking down at the poor man's body.

"Y/n, we have to get moving." He whispered.

"This is what you did? Killed innocents when they stood in your way? Is that what you did?"

"No."

"I'm having a hard time believing that." Y/n got closer, she could feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. "What was Xi'an talking about back on the ship?"

"Hey Mando! You coming!?" Mayfield yelled from down the hall.

"Something is going on." Y/n whispered, handing him the distress beacon the man was holding. "They're up to something and I don't fuckin like it."

With that she made her way to the others, Din looked down at the dead officer on the floor as he left the control room.

The group ran through the halls once more, Burg battered down on a big droid and threw it to the floor. A droid came walking around the corner yelling "Intruder alert!", Y/n grabbed it by the neck and slammed it into the wall, pulling it's head off. Sparks flew as it's body fell limp, the prisoners cheered and hollered as the group continued down the hallway.

They made it to the cell, Mayfield opened the door and inside was a male Twi'lek. Y/n frowned, this guy was no doubt Xi'an's brother.

"Qin." Din said.

"Mando, funny the man who left me behind us now my savior."

Burg grabbed Y/n and threw her into Din, they stumbled into the cell and landed on their backs. Just as the door was about to close Din fired his blaster, it bounced off the door and the walls. Mando covered Y/n as the blaster bolt hit him in the beskar.

"I told you this wasn't right! Did I not say they were up to something!?" She yelled, clenching her fist as she landed a punch to the door.

Din pulled her over by the arm, he gripped her wrist and examined her hand. Her knuckles her bleeding and her hand was shaking.

"Calm down." He said, pressing his forehead to hers. Y/n closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his cold beskar against her skin.

"Din, they know the kid is in the bunk. If they get to crest chances are they're gonna hurt him."

"That's why they won't make it to the crest."

___

Mayfield and the rest of the fuck head brigade made it half way back to the ship when Zero came on the coms.

"Zero to Mayfield, we have a problem."

"What is it!?"

"They have escaped."

"AHH!" Xi'an yelled. She pointed her dagger at migs, getting really close. "I told you we should've ended them."

"I know I know."

Suddenly the lights turned red, they all felt their hearts jump into their throats as the door closed between them.

"Brother!"

"Zero! Where is he!?" Mayfield yelled. "Zero!?"

"Sister." Qin said. "Go with the Devaronian. Find Mando and kill him, Mayfield and I will try and make it back to the ship."

___

Y/n fallowed Din through the corridors, they ducked into a large vent and Din held his finger up to his helmet, motioning for Y/n to be quiet as Burg and Xi'an ran by.

When silence covered the area, Y/n let out the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Din looked out of the vent and started to leave when she grabbed his arm and pulled him back in.

"You go after Burg, and I go for Xi'an." Y/n whispered.

He nodded and left the vent, Y/n crawled further in and went up an air shaft. She made her way through the ceiling until she found the female Twi'lek, Xi'an was creepy through like the vial little roach she was.

Y/n dropped down, landing behind her. Xi'an turned around and threw her dagger at Y/n. She caught it and ran at the Twi', grabbing her shoulders and kicking her in the stomach. Y/n flipped her over her shoulder and slammed her head against the wall, successfully knocking her out.

Y/n ran up the hall with Xi'an in tow, she was about to run passed a cell when she saw Burg out cold laying on the floor. She shrugged and harshly threw the Twi'lek in there with him.

Y/n was rounding a corner when she heard footsteps behind her, she spun around and took a swing, her fist was caught and she was held against the door of another cell. To her surprise and pleasure it was Din, she felt warmth rush to her core when she realized what a vulnerable spot he has her in.

"Din." She said, her voice just above a whisper.

"Don't attack if you can't over power your opponent."

He released her wrist, slowly sliding his hands down her arms, making Y/n shiver.

"Have you found Mayfield?" She asked.

"Not yet."

"We should probably start looking."

"Yeah....we should."

Y/n kept her eyes locked on Din's visor as she moved around him. He tilted his head and fallowed her with his gaze.

"You coming?" She asked.

He nodded and they started towards the exit. Y/n turned in the direction of where she could hear Mayfield trying to contact Zero, she nodded to Din and he began walking to Mig's voice. Y/n on the other hand kept going towards the ship, she made it to the latter just in time to run into Qin.

She felt a blaster press to the back of her neck, a dark chuckle rang out from behind her, making Y/n cringe.

She turned around and raised her hands up, Qin stood there with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

"Mando's little woman." He said. "He down graded from my sister to you?"

"If you ask me I'd say it was an upgrade."

"No one asked you."

"I don't need your permission to speak."

Qin chuckled and began rambling off about how he was gonna hold her as a hostage and Mando was gonna give him the crest and how the two of them were gonna be stuck here and blah blah blah.

Din came up behind him and smacked Qin over the head with a droid arm. Y/n smiled as the Twi'lek fell to the floor with a loud thud.

"The kid." She said, turning around and scrambled up the latter. Y/n froze when she saw Zero pointing his rifle at Grogu, she felt rage as she ran up and knocked him over. Y/n ignited her lightsaber, slicing through the middle of the droid.

The sound of Din dragging Qin up the latter startled Y/n. She quickly hid her saber and ran to help.

___

They had gotten rid of Qin and the man that hired them, and now they were on their way to God knows where. Y/n and Din sat in the cockpit, watching the stars race by. She bit her lip as she remembered being pressed against the wall by the mandalorian, the sound of his voice as he stared her down.

The thought of what he could've done to her in that moment made a quiet moan slip past her lips. Din's head slowly turned towards her, Y/n's heart raced when she felt the heat of his gaze burning into her.

"Y/n." He said in a gruff tone.

"Hmm?"

"Come."

He wasn't giving her opinions here, that was a command. Din held his hand out for her, she stood up and took it as she slowly made her way into his lap. Y/n could feel his erection through his flight suit, he grunted as she pressed her hand down and palmed at his cock.

Din gripped her hips, pushing her off and turning her to face the control panel removing her leather belt and pants, he then brought her back down against his chest. Din spread her legs with his so she was exposed for all who dared to take a gander at his woman.

"I won't be gentle, little one." He whispered.

THE END ❤️

Part 2?

I hope you enjoyed

Reblogs are welcome 🤗

#fyp #foryou #fanfic #foryoupage #x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female oc #din djarin x original character #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #din djarin smut #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandolorian x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x f!reader

[moon-sang]

ᴋʟᴜᴛᴢ ~ 𝔻𝕚𝕟 𝔻𝕛𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕟 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

(gif does not belong to me)

REQUEST: Reader goes to grab food and essentials with grogu while mando is out. Reader accidentally trips and scraped her knees (deep wound of some sort) and in the midst breaks grogu’s fall. Reader is hesitant to tell mando what happened but quickly realizes soon after (reader probably showing signs of hurt, limping etc). Fluff and comfort.

SUMMARY: You had always been a klutz... but this one fall may just change the relationship you have with Din.

WARNINGS: Fluff, angst, Soft!Din, fem!reader, description of wound, mature language, pls tell me if I miss anything!

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

It’s not your fault.

It’s not your fault you were born such a klutz.

It’s not your fault you ran out of food on the Crest.

It’s not your fault you had to go out and get more supplies, whilst Din was on a hunt.

It’s not your fault a stone got caught in between your feet.

It’s not your fault you fell, and took most of the impact to protect Grogu. 

......Except... it was.

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

The burning hot air of Nevarro attacked the new scrape on your knee, pulling a hiss out of you. Kriffing rock, getting in the way of your walking! The child cooed in your arms as you limped your way over to the Crest. You didn’t even want to look at it. You could just feel how deep the wound was, you knew you would probably faint if you actually looked at it. 

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

After what seemed to be forever, you finally made it to the Crest. The familiar ship practically called you to it. 

“Now listen buddy.” You start. “I don’t want a peep out of you, we keep this a secret from Mando, yeah?!” All you get as a reply is a bunch of gurgles. A sigh makes it’s way to your face as you continue to hobble over to the hatch of the Crest. 

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

The inviting cool air of the Crest relieved some of the stinging on your knee, but not nearly enough. You groan in pain, and ghost your fingers over the sensitive skin. You should probably patch it up before Din get’s back. 

Your fingers curl around the handle to a drawer, and pull it open. Finally something to patch your wou-.... Where are the medkits? FUCK! You had to buy some of those as well! You forgot them when you tripped! You bang your head on the cold chrome coloured wall of the Crest. “This is just great” You practically yell. With a frustrated groan you flop onto your ‘bed.’ 

“Hey kid, you wouldn’t mind going to the markets for me would ya?” you joke, looking at the confused gremlin. A chuckle leaves your lips when he frantically shakes his head. “Didn’t think so.” you whisper. 

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

A few hours later Din arrived. The bounty was knocked out cold and most likely going to be put in carbonite. “Hey.” You greet, attempting to hide your wince and the pain in your voice. You get a nod in return, from the tin can. “How was the kid, cause any trouble?” You shake your head gently. “No, he was good for once.” he nods and turns to the kid, gurgling on the floor. “And what about Y/n? Did she hit her head, stub her toe, or trip anywhere?” He asks him. “Ha.Ha. Very funny.” You mock. Din was very familiar with your clumsiness by now. He’s seen it day after day, and the worst part about it is.... he finds it amusing. He chuckles at his own joke and makes his way to the cockpit. 

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

It wasn’t until much later Din called you to the cockpit. It was easy to say ‘one sec’ or ‘yea! I’m coming’ but it was easier said than done. Every step to the ladder felt like you were pulling weights tied to your feet. 

When you finally managed to get a hold of the ladder, it was like staring up at mount Everest. It looked so tall, how were you gonna make it up there, with your bad knee? “Y/n? You coming?” Din yells from the cockpit. “Yeah!” You yell back. You could do this. With a huff you step on one of the rungs of the ladder. The pressure on your bad leg pulled a hiss out of you, but you kept going. Step, and pull up, repeat, step and pull up, repeat. That’s all you needed to do. Why did it feel so hard? Finally, after what seemed to be forever, you made it to the cockpit. And why were you panting from climbing a kriffing ladder? 

“What’s up?” you grit out. “The kids been stressing out and crying, I don’t know what’s wrong with him, could you take h-” Din cuts himself off when he turns his seat to look at you. You cock your head at him in confusion. “You want me to take him?” You finish for him. “No.” he replies bluntly, placing the kid on the floor and standing up. “Din...what’s.. going on? What’s wrong?” You hesitantly ask. “You tell me.” came his modulated reply. “What?” You practically whisper. “Do you know how pale you look? Kriffing hell you’re even sweating!” He stresses. Your breath hitches. Was the.. wound.. infected? Kriff it did take a few hours for Din to get back, you were bleeding out for quite some time. Tears well in your eyes but you hold them back. Things were getting overwhelming for you, and..... was Din talking? Whatever he was saying, you couldn’t hear, things were muffled. Your head pounded and a searing hot pain went through your leg before your vision went completely black.

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

When you opened your eyes next, you were nested in Din’s bunk. You knew straight away because everything in there smelt like him. Beautiful. “Din?” You slur out, eyes closing again. “Shh, I’m here.” He hushes soothingly. You attempt to sit up, but you find Din gently, but firmly, pushing you back down. “No. Lay down. You need rest.” He orders. You groan in response. “My knee, woun-” You’re cut of by Din. “I dealt with it.” he whispers. You nod and a tense silence spills over the two of you. Finally, he talks. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He questions, a tiny amount of anger laced in his voice. “Didn’t want to.. distract you from the...kid. You respond, voice coaxed in sleepiness. Din sighs and slumps next to you on the bed, cradling your cheek in his bare hot hand. “How.. did you stitch...wound? We have.... no...medkits.” You slur yet again. “I had some spare in my drawer, you should’ve told me mesh’la.” He soothingly whispers, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Mm sorry” you whisper. He places a gentle kiss of your forehead, and quickly pulls his helmet back down. “Just tell me next time ok, You scared the kriffing shit out of me.” He chuckles. You giggle with him. “Ok.” 

Din pulls you closer to him and wraps and arm around you. You nuzzled into his warm chest... and just stayed like that for a moment, because... it was a strange routine the two of you had. Then there’s something crawling onto you. At first you think it’s a giant spider... but then.. an all too familiar cooing sound rings through the cot. You chuckle along with Din. “No buddy, we didn’t forget you, come on in.” You whisper as you and Din make a small space for him in between the two of you. Gleefully he jumps in, and you all snuggle in with each other. 

~ I hope you liked it!

#Din Djarin x reader #Mando x reader #Din x reader #Fluff #Din Djarin fluff #Mando fluff #The Mandalorian #The Mandalorian x reader #Mando x you #Din x you #Din Djarin x you #Mandalorian x you #Grogu #baby yoda #Mando x y/n #Din x y/n #Din Djarin x y/n #Mandalorian x y/n

[noorhal]

Okay, we haven’t had like a central romantic story in The Mandalorian. Yeah, there was a glimpse of it with Mando and Omera - and yeah, i’ll bring how different is the interaction of Din with Omera vs Din with Bo.

For a bit, it seemed Din might have been tempted to stay in Sorgan with Omera and her daughter. Grogu loved being there with the children. However, there’s something quite interesting: at this stage of their story, Din was still known as “Mando” and Grogu as “The Child”. Their identities were just this Long Wolf and Cub traveling across the galaxy, looking for a place to be safe, running from whoever wanted The Child.

Of course there was chemistry with Omera. However, when she tries to convince him to stay, she tries to remove his helmet:

He stops her from removing it, and he tells her:

“I don't belong here. But he does.”

At that moment, no one knows his name, and his bond with The Child is growing but he wants him to have a safe, quiet life. However, we know this is not possible, and he leaves with his former bounty.

Fast forward to Season 3. We know him as Din Djarin, and we know The Child as Grogu. Their bond is stronger than it was so much than Grogu decided to leave the Jedi to go back to Din, whom he sees as his father. Din might haven’t yet acknowledged him as his son, but his posture changed:

“Wherever I go, he goes.”

He has broken his Creed by showing his face, and he looks for redemption. However, before that, he made a promise: when he looked for a certain heiress’s help, he promised to join her in her efforts to recover Mandalore after rescuing Grogu. And he tried to keep his promise by showing up at her castle in Kalevala. However, there was a tiny fact: when saving Grogu from Gideon, Din disarmed him of a weapon Bo-Katan wanted to recover from the imperial Moff.

But let’s go back a little bit - when they met.

Since the moment they met, Bo has brought up Din’s condition as member of a cult - that’s true. She’s called him a zealot, in more or less words. However, to begin with, she’s saved him even before she introduced herself! Her first words to Din: “Take my hand”. And the shot of her hand pulling him out of the water was totally a choice to bring out a parallel to the flashback we got from Din when he was a little boy rescued by Mandalorians:

Skip to Episode 3, after she has saved him twice in Mandalore and they’re going back to Kalevala. She asks him flirtatious if he won’t be taking off his helmet anymore to invite him to a feast in her castle, then he replies: “This is the way”. And what Bo does? She replies “This is the way” to him. Even if at a certain point she made snarky and even offensive comments against his beliefs and the Children of the Watch, her actions show she respects him, to the point that when he takes her to his covert, not only she follows their rules and stay but also gets invested - she helps saving Viszla’s boy and then plan the liberation of Nevarro. And Episode 6 gives us such a powerful moment where she defends him in front of everyone:

And as he gives her back the Darksaber, the last shot is truly intentional showing them together. And I believe that, if Din decides to walk both worlds and removes his helmet, he will choose to do it, and Bo will not press him to do so.

#the mandalorian #bo katan x din #bo katan kryze #dinbo #bo katan x din djarin #bodin #bokadin #din djarin #bo-katan kryze

[millersdjarin]

I Only See Daylight

Chapter Five

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: E (eventually)

Chapter warnings/tags: slow burn, dad!din, bonding, flirting, injuries (not in detail), negative self-talk, mentions of past trauma/abuse, teasing

Chapter Length: 5.5k

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notes: mando's new ship is basically just a bigger version of the razor crest. im not even sorry for this lack of imagination. :)

i don't wanna think of anything else now that i thought of you

Mando’s cooking left you feeling warm, full, and��taken care of.

He had, of course, cooked for you while you were in the cave, made sure you had enough to eat. But all you had was meat and rations. Here, at your hut, he found ingredients to make a proper stew, and spent a couple of hours at your stove. It was hard not to watch him in his silent concentration. 

He could have left by now. He’s got what he needed from all this, and you’re safe in your home, recovering well from your injuries. He could just take his ship, fly to the other side of the planet, and never think of you again. 

But after you and the kid ate—kriff, it was good—he sat at the outside table opposite you, and said, “I think I’ll head out in the morning. If that’s alright with you.” 

You’d swallowed a gulp of water, nodded. “Yeah. That’s fine by me.” You thought of your spare tent, much smaller than the one the storm had shredded. Then you thought of the empty space on the floor inside the hut, how it’s just the perfect size for two sleeping mats. “You can sleep in the hut. If you’re comfortable with that.” 

He’d hesitated, but nodded. “Thank you.” 

So now here you are, long before the sun will rise, just watching him. He’s asleep, you assume, his chest rising and falling evenly. The kid is tucked in beside him beneath the blanket, and it’s so kriffing cute, his little eyes fully closed, ears twitching in his sleep. One of his fingers is wrapped around Mando’s hand, holding him close. 

Not for the first time, you wonder about their story. How they found each other, and how they became so close. 

You don’t sleep. Just doze on and off, at best. There’s a painful dread stirring deep in your belly, spreading to your chest, under your ribcage. You try with all your might to squash it down, to fight it with logic, with the knowledge that you shouldn’t care that you’ll be alone again in a few hours—in fact, you should be happy about that—and that wanting them to stick around is not only stupid and naive, but also selfish. 

It’s just, they’re the first people to ever make you feel…safe. Accepted. Free to just be. 

You never though you’d find that. Hell, you thought you’d spend the rest of your days here alone, not a soul in sight. 

And now that it’s coming to an end, you can’t help the anxiety nibbling through your defences. The wall you’ve built around your heart, around this life of solitude. And you know it’s stupid not just because of all that, not just because growing attached is a surefire way to get hurt; but it’s also stupid because Mando was always going to be here only temporarily. You were just supposed to help him get off-world. Go on a hike. Do a good thing. 

It’s turned into more, and you shouldn’t have let it.

So, above all else, the only thing you can do now is to not let it show.

When the sun rises, Mando stirs. You’re in the kitchen making two cups of caf, and before you turn to look at him, you hear him yawning. It comes out all funny through the helmet, of course, but it’s still endearing. 

While Mando eats and drinks outside, you pack up a little parcel of berries and herbs that you found on your hike, wrapping it in some old paper and securing it with a string. The kid helps, although mostly he just steals berries when he thinks you’re not looking. You slip in a little gift, too, to remember you by; a piece of the tent that was shredded during the storm. It’s a joke, really, just something to get him to laugh. Because you’ve only heard that a few times, but it’s so lovely. 

Except, of course, you won’t be there when he opens this package, when he laughs.

You’re trying not to think about the fact that they’re leaving. That you’re not just going to miss Mando, but the kid, too. If someone had told you a week ago that there would be a bounty hunter with a child that you’d somehow form an attachment to, you’d have laughed in their face. 

“For your travels,” you say to Mando, handing him the parcel. You let your hands linger on his, feeling the leather beneath your palms, somehow becoming a familiar feeling. 

He looks at the package, then to you. “You didn’t have to…” 

“I wanted to,” you interrupt with a smile. Slowly, you pull your hands away. He twitches his towards you, like he wants to follow them, but holds himself back. “So, I guess you’re on your way, then?” 

Wordless at first, he nods.

You feel something tugging at your leg. Little arms wrapped around your good calf. Looking down, Grogu is there, staring up at you with wide eyes, ears turned downwards sadly. 

As you pick him up, you say to him, “Alright, kiddo. I’ve packed some of your favourite berries in there, but you’ve got to let Mando have some as well, alright?” 

He tilts his head, listening. Lifts up one of his little hands, and brushes it down your cheek. His face is sad with a tiny extra wrinkle in his forehead. Gently, you take hold of his hand as it falls from your face, and lift it up, giving his knuckles a little peck. 

“I’ll miss you too,” you say, smiling. Mando’s eyes are on you; you can feel them. Warming and comforting and uneasy. You look to him, and give a sad smile. “You’ve got the city on your map, right?” 

Parcel still in hand, he nods. “Yes. Only thing on this planet.” 

“It sure is,” you remember your first conversation with him, when you told him that there was nothing for miles. When you decided to help him. Some kind of melancholy settles in your chest, too far inside for you to push it away. With one last look to the kid, you wait for Mando to put the food package in his satchel before passing Grogu back to him. The kid clings to your arm for as long as he can, then when he’s against Mando’s chest, tucks his head into his cowl. 

You just stare at Mando, entirely aware of how absurd this is. How much of a strange image it is, this strong man of metal with a soft little child in his arms. You’ve been with him for almost a week now, and the contrast still isn’t lost on you.

“Take care of yourself,” Mando says into the heavy quiet. 

“I will. You, too.”

He nods. Still, he hesitates, not making a move towards the ramp, even though there’s really nothing else to say. You can’t bring yourself to look away, so you just wait. Maybe the longer you’re quiet, the longer he’ll let you stay like this; in this new little world you’ve found yourself in, where suddenly being alone again doesn’t look like any fun.

It startles you just a little when he steps forward. At first, you’re not sure what he’s going to do, but then he holds his hand out for you. 

Tentative, you reach out, and accept it. He doesn’t shake it like a greeting or a farewell. He just holds it, holds you, the bare skin of your palms separated only by his gloves once again, lingering long enough for you to feel his warmth. 

“Ret'urcye mhi,” , he says, ray-toor-shah-me. 

It takes a moment for your brain to catch up to the fact that you’re not glitching out; he’s speaking a different language. His voice sounds like poetry in whatever he’s speaking, tongue curling over the words, breath brushing across them like a prayer. 

“It’s Mando’a,” he explains at your confused frown, his hand still in yours. “The language of the Mandalorians.” 

“You speak that?” 

“A little, yes.” 

“What does that mean? Ray…tor…me?” 

“Ret’urcye mhi,” he corrects gently, giving your hand a squeeze that might be involuntary or purposefully reassuring. “It means goodbye. Or…” 

Your eyebrow twitches up hopefully. “…Or?” 

“Maybe we’ll meet again.” 

A breath escapes your lips, a new feeling sliding in beside the sadness inside you. Something like hope. Reassurance, even, that Mando isn’t the only one hoping that might be true. “Maybe we will,” you breathe, feeling yourself smile. 

With one last, lingering squeeze of your hand, he nods once, and pulls away. Some part of you tells you to reach out, pull him back in. The part of you that has already accepted the fact that you like him, and you like his company. 

The rest of you, though, pushes it away. 

Mando leaves the door open behind him. You stand in the doorway, watching as he walks away, the morning sun glinting off his armour. Grogu is looking over his shoulder at you, reaching out one of his hands like a wave. 

You wave back, finding your smile turning teary. 

You watch until they’re gone, disappeared into the tree line. Then, you just stay there for a minute, gathering yourself. Coming back to your senses. 

It’s quiet. So quiet. 

The smells and sounds are back to normal. No more burning engine oil, no more clinking of Mandalorian armour or cooing of little green Grogus. Just the forest around you, the distant trickling of the creek. 

You used to like it. Solitude. You never thought it would take just one person and his son to change that. But maybe that’s just it; maybe it’s that they’re the first decent people you’ve ever met, and that is drawing you in, making you vulnerable. Maybe you’re just being naive, foolish. 

That’s why you’re here in the first place. 

But, Kriff. In the distance, you see the glint of sun as it reflects off of his ship lifting into the air. You only just see it by the time it’s high enough above the horizon, a tiny silver dot getting further away. 

You close your eyes. So much, you wish that could be you. Leaving. Being free. Choosing where to go, instead of being stuck somewhere just because it’s safe. 

-

The idea only makes a little bit of sense, when Din thinks about it. When he rationalises it.

Having someone else along with him for a little while might not be such a bad thing. It’s been him and Grogu for so long, but they’ve been thrown around from place to place and fight to fight for most of their time together that they’ve never really settled into a routine. At least, not one that couldn’t stand to be changed. 

The ship is bigger now; an extra pair of adult hands could be helpful around here. 

And he hates to admit it, but it can get pretty lonely. At night, when the kid is asleep and everything in the ship is quiet, Din used to appreciate just having the silence to himself. The space to think, to meditate, to consider his next move. 

But things feel different now.

Somehow, after the last week, everything feels different. After you. 

So, once the hyperdrive has been fixed—for an extortionate amount of money, too; trust a backwater planet with only one city to charge that much, because they’ve got you right where they want you—he could just leave the planet’s atmosphere, go back out into the endless Galaxy and find his next bounty. Earn money, keep them under the radar. There are still bounties on him and Grogu; at least, there are stragglers who haven’t quite got word yet that the Imps who wanted the kid are long gone. There’s no one to pay the bounty, but they don’t know that. So Din knows they still have to lay low, stay moving. 

He could just do that. Just him and the kid.

But he can’t stop thinking about your eyes, every time he told you about a distant world. Every time you asked to hear about one. The way you’d confessed into the quiet of the cave that you wanted to see the Galaxy. 

He can’t stop thinking about you, period.

It’s a problem. He knows it’s a problem. He’s not blind to the way he feels when he sees you, how it felt the first time he saw the bright orange sun shining on your face, through the wispy strands of your hair in the gentle breeze. When you touched his hand for the first time, just the brush of fingers. When you were injured, and you tried to push him away, to get him to leave you alone when you clearly needed help, he knew what it was he felt in his chest. Right in his very core.

It’s something he’s not felt before.

And it would be fine, except for the fact that it’s not. He knows he can never have that, with anyone. His life just isn’t cut out for something like that. He has the kid, and that’s all he can give.

And he’s still…finding himself again, after everything that happened. After being excommunicated, realising that he was more than his helmet, more than the thin line he constantly had to walk within the Creed between doing what was right and keeping his face hidden. The disillusion with all he’s ever known is still eating away at him. 

He doesn’t even know where his heart lies, let alone whether or not it’s strong enough to give to someone. Whether or not he’s strong enough. If you’d even want that.…

He knows there is so much he can’t give you. So much that you deserve. 

What he can give you, though, is a way off this planet and into the stars. 

So it’s not really because he needs an extra pair of hands. It’s not even because he’s lonely. But that's just the problem: since when has he felt the need to tell himself, or anyone, anything but the blunt truth?

Finding the piece of the shredded tent in the food parcel you made for him is what does it, in the end.

He doesn’t fly away and never look back. 

When he climbs into the cockpit for the first time after it’s been fixed, still sitting on the platform at the repair shop, he sets the coordinates for the other side of the planet.

Kriff.

He’s screwed here, isn’t he?

-

It’s been two days since Mando and Grogu left. It’s been sunny every minute since. Flowers are blooming in the clearing in front of your hut, bright pinks and yellows in tiny little buds. It’s still so quiet, and for a while, you’d been able to convince yourself that you were enjoying it. 

But now, with insects dancing in the beams of sunlight cast in front of your home, the silence is deafening. You can’t pretend anymore.

It’s coming up to noon when you hear something strange. You must be hearing things; it can’t be that someone else has crash-landed here. That would be two in one week, which seems pretty impossible. Maybe it’s a nearby shindl making a nest. 

Though, it sounds too…mechanical for that. No, it’s definitely the rumble of an engine, the sky too clear for it to be thunder. 

Just in case, you head inside, but sit beside the front window, peering out from one of the corners. Your blaster is at your hip, sniper rifle by the door. If it’s another crash, this time the people might not be as nice as Mando was. 

Minutes later, you see it.

The familiar flash of beskar in the sunlight. The calm, collected steps he takes, the swing of his arms. The satchel, a tiny green head poking out from the top. 

No. You’re imagining things. The poison has come back, and you’re feverish, and delusional. 

Except you’re not. 

“Mando?” You question to yourself, closing the clasp on your holster before standing up and heading outside. Sure enough, it’s him, striding casually across the grass towards you, the kid cooing happily from his place in the satchel. They stop in front of you, just feet away. “What are you doing here?” You ask, a smile twitching at your lips.

He’s quiet at first, because of course he is. “I brought you some food from a market,” he says, fishing out a canvas bag hanging heavily with produce. “To say thank you.” 

You smile and take it from him, brushing your fingers together, definitely on purpose this time. “You didn’t have to do this,” you assure him, but peer inside the bag anyway, finding bright fruits, grains, vegetables, and some circles of cheese. Cheese. Kriff, it’s been a while since you had cheese. Looking up at him with a wide grin, you step closer. “Thank you.” 

He nods. The kid distracts you, then, reaching out a hand towards you in the way he does when he wants to hold your finger. Of course you’re unable to resist him; you thought you’d never see either of them again, despite what you may have hoped.

“I have something to ask you,” Mando says. 

“Oh?” 

“Come with me.” 

Your eyes shoot up to him. “That…didn’t sound like a question.” 

His helmet tilts. “…Will you come with me.” He rephrases, still not pitching his voice at the end of the sentence like it’s a question, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. 

It makes you weak in the knees. You put all your weight onto your good leg, disguising it as resting your bad one. “What are you talking about?” 

“You said you wanted to travel,” he says. “I can take you wherever you want to go.” 

There’s that warmth again. Right in the centre of your chest. Even if it weren’t for the sincerity in his voice, you would know that his words are genuine; he’s never said something to you that isn’t. “Mando…” you whisper. His offer settles on you, under your skin and into your bones. You wish you could say yes. Wish it was that simple. “I don’t…have anywhere to go, or anything to my name. I can’t…I can’t leave.” 

“You can stay with me. With us,” he gestures to the kid, who is still holding one of your fingers in earnest, big eyes staring up at you hopefully. 

You gaze into Mando’s visor, wishing you could look into his eyes, search his face. He really means this. He wants you to go with them. To stay with them. And every single inch of you yearns to agree to it. “It’s not that simple,” your voice comes out in a whisper. Tears hang in your throat, sting at the backs of your eyes. 

Fuck, you’ve already had to let him walk away once. Now you’re going to have to do it again, and this time, it’ll be after you’ve turned down the best, most sincere offer you’ve ever been given. 

“Why not?” Mando asks.

Your chest tightens. As if on instinct, you pull your finger away from the kid’s grasp. “Mando, there’s…” looking away, you shake your head. Images come to mind of the place you were in before here. The place you fought so hard to escape; the people who would still try to find you and bring you back if they ever got the chance. Fuck, you thought Mando had been sent here by them, at first. There’s nothing they won’t do. “There are people…who want to hurt me,” you confess into the breeze, words so small that he might not have even heard them. You cross your arms over your chest, defensive. “I can’t leave. They’ll find me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, considering. His visor is still on you. “I can offer you protection,” he says. 

And, Gods.

You have to close your eyes. A painful pang hits your chest. Yearning, the feeling of having something you want so badly so close but yet so far. You’ve felt like this before. For so many years you wanted to escape your family, and it took you your whole life to find the courage to do so. 

You don’t doubt that Mando could protect you. Hell, you know no one will mess with you if you’re hanging around with a Mandalorian. At least, not anyone with half a brain. 

But this? Leaving this planet, this safe haven that you’ve found and created for yourself, leaving it all behind for the sake of following your dream to see the Galaxy? This might be even scarier than the escape that took you decades to plan. 

“You don’t have to say yes,” Mando’s voice comes through the chaos of your thoughts. “I would understand. We don’t know each other well. But I will protect you from whoever it is you need protecting from, and I can bring you back here if and whenever you need.” 

“And what if the people who want me are hunting me for good reason? Maybe I’m some ruthless criminal.” 

The helmet tilts along with the lilt of a smirk in his voice, “I…doubt that’s true. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

Without moving your head, you move your eyes from the floor to him, and feel that warmth blooming, a familiar kind of comfort that his presence brings to you settling in. “I can’t tell you about it,” you whisper. “I just…I can’t.” 

“I’m not asking you to.” 

“But to protect me, don’t you need to know who you might have to fight?” 

“…In a sense. But, you know, I could use an extra pair of hands around the ship. You’d be doing me a favour, too.”

You look away again. “Mando…” you sigh. You’ve run out of reasons to say no. 

He’s the first person you’ve seen in years, and somehow the first person you’ve ever really trusted. Maybe it’s the kid, maybe it’s his gentle voice and demeanour beneath the armour, maybe it’s how he protected you against the storm, stayed with you when you needed him, patched you up. 

Maybe it’s because he’s different to how you thought he’d be. 

And maybe that’s more comforting than it is scary.

You look up at him. Bite your bottom lip. “Are you sure about this?” 

“Yes.” 

Of course he is. Look at him: all wide shoulders and casual stance, standing here in front of your home like he’s always been here, like he’s always known you. Staring at you like he can never stop. It’s harder to look away from you.

“Alright,” you decide. It’s too quiet, so you say again, “Alright. I’ll come with you. If—if you’re sure.” Melancholy shifts to make way for a new emotion, something you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. Excitement. Anticipation of something good.

He lets out a breath. You wonder if he’s smiling. 

The kid definitely is. He makes a happy shriek, waving his hands about excitedly. 

You laugh, reaching out to gently bump his nose with your fingertip. Then you look back to Mando, squinting in the light that’s reflected off of his armour. “Thank you,” you say, so quiet he might not have heard you. “I mean it.” 

He nods once. “Take your time getting ready to leave. The ship is just in the nearest clearing. We’ll be waiting for you whenever you’re ready.” 

As he walks away, you watch him go, admiring the swing of his hips and arms despite the fact that that should be the last thing on your mind. 

Kriff. 

I’m leaving. I’m actually leaving. 

A stir of panic swirls in your stomach, right in the pit. 

You expected that. 

It’s okay. 

I’m okay. 

-

He presses something into your hand, closing your fingers over it, holding your fist. 

“Ret’lini,” he says, rayt-lee-nee through his modulator, close to your face. 

“What does that mean?” He lets you go and you open your fist, finding a commlink sitting in your palm. 

“Just in case,” he translates. 

You look back up at him. “Thank you,” you say, feeling like you’re going to be saying that a lot, and put the link in your pocket.

You’ve only got a small bag of belongings. Just some clothes, some leftover meiloorun, and the necklace you brought with you from your old life that will now come with you into this one. It was from your aunt, the one person you trusted before she passed.

Mando shows you his quarters. They’re down in the hull, tucked behind a door that gives a gentle hiss when it opens and closes, with two bunks, one on top of the other. The bottom one covers most of the width of the room, slightly bigger than a single bunk but smaller than a double. The top one is definitely single, and between them both there’s a hammock made from a mixture of leather and soft fabric, with a little frog toy sitting in it. 

The ’fresher is next-door, hidden behind a similar door, just a simple toilet, sink, and an open shower. A shower. It’s been a while.

Then, on the main deck, a small living area with a kitchenette, leading into the cockpit where there are three seats; two up front and one directly behind the copilot chair. 

Once you’ve put your bag on your bunk—the top one, where a little light sits on the wall, diffused by a metal sconce—you head into the cockpit, finding Mando in the pilot’s chair, Grogu in the one beside him. Mando is looking at holomaps, twiddling with controls on the panel in front of him and above his head. You wonder what it all does, how well he knows the ship. 

“Where are we going first?” You ask, tentatively sitting in the third chair behind Grogu. 

“Any requests?” 

“Uh…I don’t know much about the Galaxy. Is there anywhere you need to go? Or want to go?”

“There’s a Guild outpost not far from here. I could do with picking up a job.”

“The Bounty Hunters’ Guild?”

“Yes. But if you’re not comfortable with that…” 

“You have to make your money somehow,” you say. You didn’t go into this thinking that Mando would just stop bounty hunting altogether because of you. 

He looks back at you, just the side profile of his helmet visible. “It doesn’t bother you?” 

“I’ve seen worse,” you say, then wish you hadn’t, and look away. “I don’t want to interrupt your life.” 

He looks at you for a minute, then turns away again, pulling up a holomap. “We can go to Nevarro,” he says, pointing at it on the image in front of him, not that that helps your understanding of where the hell it is in the Galaxy. “I’ve got friends there. While I find a suitable job, you could go to the library, think about places you might want to visit. Have a look at some maps.” 

He says it like he’s just fine with you rocking up and saying Hey, Mando, take me here. Take me there. 

“Do you moonlight as a taxi service?” You tease, throwing a smirk at the back of his head. 

He huffs a laugh. “I’ve been known to.” 

“Wait, really?” You find yourself laughing. The idea is funny; this scary Mandalorian just ferrying people back and forth. “I don’t believe you.” 

“I’ve been roped into it,” he says, sighing dramatically, “not my proudest moment.” 

You smile at him, not sure if the fact he can’t see the fondness on your face is a good or bad thing. “So what’s this, then?” You ask, only finding courage because he’s not looking at you. “Am I another one of those shameful moments?” You’re mostly teasing. Mostly. But a part of you genuinely feels guilty for taking him up on his offer, and if he wants to back out, now is the time to do it. You want to give him chance before taking off. 

Surprising you, he closes the holomap, and spins his chair to face you fully. You sit back, suddenly overwhelmed by how small this cockpit is, or how small it feels. “You know that’s not what this is,” he says, “…don’t you?” 

Nervous, you swallow. “I’m…not used to people helping me just because they…well, why are you helping me?” 

He considers this for a moment, his hands splayed on his knees, helmet tilted slightly as he looks at you. “I could use the help,” he answers, though his voice is smaller than usual, no conviction in it.

“So I’m an employee?” 

“No,” he answers. He seems flustered, all of a sudden, though you can’t put your finger on what gives you that impression. “It’s not like that.” 

You don’t like the strange feeling that’s suddenly settled between you. You want to look into his eyes, read them. Want to understand him and his voice and what he means when he doesn’t say things entirely candidly. So, changing the tone, you give him a smirk, and say, “So you are a taxi service.” 

He laughs again, this time a surprised kind of chuckle. “I’m not dropping you off anywhere in particular, so you’re going to rack up quite the fare.” 

You smile, and he leans forward. You find yourself leaning forward too, though you don’t know why. “I’ll find some way to pay you,” you say, your voice dropping to a lower tone, going for teasing, but ending up somewhere else, somewhere that you definitely didn’t intend to— 

Nope, that came out all wrong, you did not mean it to sound like that—

“I mean—” you stammer, backing up again, “I—didn’t mean…I meant I can find something to give you—I mean—”

The helmet tilts, and you stop talking. 

You’ve seen this before. The tilt, the stillness as he just watches you fumble. He knows exactly what you meant in the first place, and is enjoying your floundering. 

“I know you’re making fun of me under that helmet,” you frown, folding your arms over your chest. “And it’s rude. Stop it.” 

He leans back against his chair, his splayed hands dragging up thighs in a way that is, quite frankly, far too provocative to do in front of a child—“The helmet has its uses,” he says. 

You stammer for a response, for some kind of retort. But your cheeks are burning red still from the insinuation that you would pay him with a service and you can’t form a sentence right now. 

“You blush a lot,” he says it quietly, like he’s just saying it to himself, or he didn’t mean to say it aloud.

Your brain actually malfunctions. 

“I—what?” 

He stays still, quiet, stares for just a second longer before he quickly looks away and turns back to his control panel. Like he’s caught himself. Like he definitely didn’t mean to say it. “Nothing. Are you ready to go?”

“I…yes,” you answer. Welcoming the change in topic, you gaze out of the window, at the forest stretching ahead of you, the spring flowers swaying in the breeze. Five years you’ve been here, made a life for yourself. Found a type of peace that you never thought you’d have. 

It hasn’t been easy. And it hasn’t been what you would choose, if you’d had another choice. But it’s been your home, and you’re going to miss it.

But it’s time to make a different choice. And you’re okay with that. 

“I’m ready,” you say, even though he didn’t ask you again. 

He glances back at you, and nods. 

“Are you, though? I might be terrible to live with and then you’ll have to drop me back off here in a day’s time,” you tease. 

Grogu hops down from his seat and starts to tug at your leg, asking for you to pick him up. As you do, Mando fiddles with switches and dials, and the engines start to power up behind you, roaring to life. 

Mando eventually says, “I can find my way back here if you’re trouble.” 

You smile at him, getting the kid comfortable in your lap. His tone is teasing, deadpan. You could hear him talk like that for hours and not get bored; banter with him, wondering if he, too, blushes a lot.

Which, come to think of it, is something you’re going to think about a lot. The fact he said that to you. The fact it seemed like he didn’t mean to say that to you.

You distract yourself by watching the world fall around you as the ship lifts off from the ground. The roof of your hut pokes up through the trees, its small clearing coming into view once you’re up in the air. The sky gets nearer, the ground gets further. 

You take a deep, controlled breath. That murmuring feeling of panic stirs again, deep in your belly, but now is not the time. Looking away from the window and the closest thing you’ve had to a real home fading beneath you, you look instead at the kid, who is gazing up at you with wide, loving eyes. 

“Hey, kid,” you murmur, quiet enough that it’s just between the two of you. He coos back, lifting his finger to brush it down your cheek. 

You close your eyes. 

Take a deep breath. In, out. 

There are so many more stars up here than you ever could have imagined. 

notes: as always thank you for being here. all interactions are appreciated, but comments and reblogs especially make me happy and help with my engagement :) posting schedule is mondays and thursdays!

take care of yourself!

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[pagesfromthevoid]

Cowboy Like Me | d.d. | Epilogue

Din Djarin x princess!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Smuuuut. Oral (m receiving). Fingering. Body worship. PinV sex. Creampie. Mild cockwarming if you squint. Tiny bit of sub!Din but you realllllly gotta squint.

Author’s Note: Everyone thank @ablondieproduction for this. Also, ya know how I said the last part was the finale? I lied turns out. Gif from @obikenobis

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

The Wedding Night

“Well, well, well —you leave with a kid and come back with, what? A princess?” Peli greeted as Din held his hand out to his wife, helping her off the ship. Grogu was in his other arm. 

She still wore her gown, stained with her blood as well as Credence’s, and it trailed behind her as she walked off the ship. Peli stood with her hands on her hips, staring at the three before her in confusion and disbelief. 

“Peli,” he returned with a nod. Immediately, the mechanic reached out to take Grogu in her arms, and the child coped excitedly at her. “This is my wife.”

“Excuse me?” Peli exclaimed, and even her droids stopped what they were doing to see what was going on. “You got married and didn’t invite me?”

She laughed —bright, genuine and the only thing that Din wanted to hear for the rest of his life. “It was a bit last second,” she offered simply, extending her hand to the mechanic to introduce herself. “I’ve heard your mechanic skills are the best in the galaxy.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what he told ya.”

Din let out a sigh –vaguely resembling a chuckle – nodding back to the Crest. “Think you can fix it in the next week?”

Peli moved around the ship, examining it closely. “What the hell did you do to do this thing?”

“Got married,” he offered as a simple explanation. Next to him, she elbowed his side with a playful grin. 

Peli stopped and looked back at him, brow raised. “Mando, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were messin’ with me.”

“But you do know better, Ms. Peli?” She asked, grinning still. 

The mechanic scoffed, making a face. “Just Peli. And I do. Which means that you two actually got married on this thing —what? During a firefight? How romantic.” 

Both laughed at the last comment’s clear sarcasm, earning a giggle from Grogu who basked in the joy that came from both his parents. Peli seemed struck by the sight, and Din wondered if he’d ever actually laughed in front of her before. He couldn’t remember the last time he properly felt this happy, however. 

“Y’know what? Lemme watch the kid for the night,” Peli offered, bouncing Grogu on her hip. Din knew she would offer that regardless, because she always did. However, her next offer threw him off. “You two go get yourself a room and really enjoy your wedding night.”

Din thanked the Maker for his helmet, because the blush that he felt took up his neck and face and seeped over his features. But his princess didn’t hesitate to take his hand, her grin turning to an eager smile. 

“And as a wedding gift —I’ll charge ya half what the repairs are.”

Din rolled his eyes, but she was pulling him towards the exit of the shop without a second thought. “Thank you, Peli! You are wonderful.”

He swore, as he was hurried out the door, Peli said to Grogu, “Maybe you’ll get a sibling tonight.”

*****

There was no hesitation as soon as they got into their room at the inn. Her hands were on him, revealing his face to her. Anyone else would have called her desperate for how she touched him –how she needed to taste him on her lips and see every part of him like it was the first time, every time. The dark curls that fell over his eyes, which could hold every star in the galaxy if she could capture them all. Everything about Din Djarin was beautiful, and she thanked the Maker for every second she got to touch him.

His helmet was discarded to the nightstand without much thought, and her mouth was on his as soon as it was out of the way. Din responded with fervor, yanking his gloves off and tossing them aside so his hands could card into the hair at the base of her neck and pull her into him. His lips were chapped, but soft and pliant against her’s, allowing her to be in as much control as possible. She liked how he melted into her touch; how he let her decide how far it could be taken. The feeling made her shiver in excitement, and she felt a rush of desire wash over her. Her tongue traced his bottom lip, before she pulled it between her teeth. Din is who deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth and exploring the depths of her. 

When they broke apart, foreheads resting against one another, she closed her eyes for a moment to breathe. Din’s hands were still in her hair, though loosened now, as he peppered short, sweet kisses over her cheeks, nose, eyes –wherever his lips could touch. 

“I need out of this awful gown,” she breathed, opening her eyes to look up at him.

“I happened to like the dress,” he admitted, just as breathless. His fingers traced over the scales of the armor that covered her body, trailing down as he lifted the skirts, showing off the remnants of battle. “Bloodstains and all.”

“You would,” she teased, reaching up to run her fingers across his jaw with a soft smile. 

While it would not be the first time that she and Din touched one another, it would be the first time she could see him when they did. And she wanted to see everything. The blindfold heightened every other feeling, but to see him –every part of him –was something that she had been longing for the moment they landed on Sorgan so long ago. 

The stubble along his jaw scratched her fingers, but she basked in the feeling as she mimicked his motions. Her eyes traced over the armor covering his chest, over the mudhorn signet that matched her dagger, as well as the mythosaur that was etched into his pauldrons. She had felt him under her hands before; the skin under the armor. The scars that littered his body from battle and blaster shots. There was something about feeling him that dialed her desire up higher and higher, but being able to see him…Maker help her, she was growing impatient.  

She wasn’t a fool; she knew by marrying him that they would not have a peaceful life. Such was the way of the Mandalorian. But what moments of peace they had –moments like this, in that inn, alone –she was going to savor and enjoy. 

“I want to see you,” she finally whispered, looking up at him. “I want to see all of you, Din.”

She watched his throat constrict as he swallowed; how his breath hitched when she said his name. Her hands traced back up to his shoulders, slowly but surely beginning to remove the armor that hid him from her. Din stood, allowing her to take her time –to appreciate everything that he had to offer her. As she moved her way down, taking pieces of his beskar with her, she admired each part of him she could. With the beskar out of the way, she pulled the pieces of his flight suit next, all but tossing the top pieces off onto the floor to reveal the broad expanse of skin she had only ever touched blindly. While he still wore the bottom half of his suit, she was content –if only for a moment –to admire what she saw before her.

Her fingers traced over his collarbone, down into the dip that formed right at the base of his throat, then back up over the otherside. There were scars all over –ones she had felt before but could finally see properly. New ones –still fresh, still trying to be held together –and old ones alike marred his skin, but as she touched each one, she couldn’t help but find each one beautiful in its own right. 

Din’s hands reached for her waist, but she shooed him away with an adoring smile. “You’ve been able to see me this entire time,” she reminded him gently, slowly bringing herself to her knees in front of him. Her hands unfastened the buckles of his boots, slipping them off him with ease, before her hands reached back up to his stomach. He swallowed again, meeting her gaze as her nails dragged down his stomach and stopped just above the button of his pants. “Let me see you come undone for me.”

Her lips pressed against his lower stomach, her tongue just barely grazing over the skin there, as her hands worked the remainder of his flight suit off of him. His hands were trembling by his sides, and when she looked up at him, his eyes were closed as if he was trying to hold himself back. A devious smile spread over her lips, and Din hummed as he felt it against his skin. As she pulled the remainder of his clothes off of him, she pressed soft, wet kisses lower and lower until she was sitting on her knees with him bare before her. 

“Look at me,” she ordered, though her voice was soft as her nails dragged over the exposed skin of his thighs. 

Din finally opened his eyes, dropping his gaze to her as she carefully took his hardened length in her hands. He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to keep himself composed, but she didn’t want him composed. She wanted him undone from her touch, her mouth, her love. 

She’d felt him before —his size, buried deep inside her —but she wanted to feel him everywhere. And so with a careful stroke of her hand, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the tip of his cock. He let out a strangled sound, legs shaking. She hummed softly, glancing up at him once more, before she pulled back just slightly. 

“Sit on the edge of the bed,” she commanded, pushing him backwards. 

He didn’t hesitate to follow orders, sitting down and spreading his legs open for her. She settled between his knees, leaning her head against his thigh to simply admire the beauty that was her husband —staring down at her with pleading eyes. 

“Look at you, mesh’la,” she murmured, earning a groan from Din as she used his language against him.

“Please,” he managed to finally say, and she couldn’t deny him her touch any more. 

Sitting up on her knees, she took him in her hands once more and dragged her tongue over the underside of his cock. He threw his head back at the sensation, nails digging into the sheets of the bed, as she licked the head and budding precum clean off. Then, without warning, she wrapped her lips around him and took him entirely into her mouth, allowing herself only a moment to adjust to the feel of him on her tongue. 

His hips bucked involuntarily, but her free hand —the one not working his cock as she began to suck him off —dig into the meat of his thigh. A silent warning to wait so she could take her time. His breathing was heavy, but his eyes stayed on hers as she set the pace. Her tongue traced over the veins of his cock, back over the head, and she hummed in delight as one of his hands found purchase in her hair. 

Still in her bloodstained gown, on her knees in front of him, she slowed her motions —allowing Din to use his grip on her hair to control her next movements. There was a moment of hesitation —as if he was waiting for explicit permission. So she pulled back with a satisfying pop, a string of saliva shining between her lips and his cock. 

“Fuck,” was all he said, staring down at her with his hand tangled in her hair. “I-I need you, riduur. I won’t —I can’t last —,”

But she simply hummed in response, pulling back entirely to rest her hands in her lap. She looked up at him as he sat up fully, waiting for him to make his move. Din leaned forward, his hand in her hair guiding her up to meet him in a heated kiss. It was all teeth, and tongues, tasting himself on her as he started to pry the gown from her body. 

Unlike his beskar, her armor was only held on by a handful of buckles that trailed up her spine. Once undone —the dress simply dropped to her feet, pooled there like a sea of chainmail, blood and tulle. The underwear she wore —that, and nothing else —were the next to be pried off of her and when it was out of the way, Din’s hands were on her hips and pushing her into the sheets of the bed —all without breaking their kiss. 

Her hands tangled into his hair, bringing him as close to her as she could manage as his hands roamed over every curve of her body. He laid on his side, half on top of her, and he pulled her knee up against him. His fingers, thick and warm and quick, delved between her thighs and he groaned when he felt how wet she was. 

They broke apart, just enough to touch their foreheads together, as Din pressed a finger into her. She arched into the touch, his free hand gripping the calf that was pulled against him as he pulled out and pressed back in at a slow, almost painful pace. A second finger joined the first, and she gasped at the feeling of him inside her —she desperately needed more; needed him. 

“Please, Din,” she begged, taking his jaw in her hands to make him look at her. Seeing him —seeing him see her —made her heart swell as she gasped from his fingers curling inside her, against a string of nerves that made her cry out. “Oh Maker —Din —I —,”

His pace didn’t slow, however —he sped up his ministrations, trailing his lips over her jaw and down her throat. She writhed under his touch, each bite and kiss like fire under her skin, as she clenched around his fingers. Her hands pulled at his hair, tugging the curls between her fingers as she cried out his name as if he was her Maker and his name was the only prayer she needed for salvation. 

But too soon, he pulled his fingers from her and she fell into the bed with an empty, cold feeling where he once was. Din brought his fingers up, tapping just barely against her lips and she didn’t hesitate to take them into her mouth. Tasting herself on his fingers only fueled the fire that was blazing through her, and when he pulled his fingers from her mouth, she hauled him back into a kiss. 

He was hard against her thigh, and she was desperate to feel him fill her again. Snaking her hand between their bodies, her fingers wrapped around his cock once more. His moan was swallowed into their kiss as his hips bucked into her touch. With each buck of hips, she could feel his head just barely brushing against her core. 

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips, wrapping her leg around his back to pull him closer. “I love you, Din.”

Understanding what she wanted, he shifted just enough to press into her slowly. “I love you too, cyar'ika. More than you could ever know.”

She kept her eyes on him as Din slowly but surely bottomed out in her, filling her with all of him. He dropped his head, burying his face in the crook of her neck as their bodies connected and filled with warmth. While she wanted him to move, and bring her over the edge that she was already teetering off of, she also wanted to see his face with his cock buried inside her. 

“Look at me,” she begged, pulling his face away from her neck. 

He took a breath, opening his eyes slowly to look down at her. Her hands found his jaw again, holding him there as she pressed her heel into his back, trying to bring him even further into her. He rested on his elbows above her, slowly pulling out of her before thrusting back in. 

She gasped, throwing her head back as he set the pace —slow at first, but picking up speed as he pounded into her. Her fingers dug into his jaw, keeping his eyes on her as she opened her mouth in a silent cry.

He pushed himself up, drawing her in by her hips, as he thrusted into her —hard but passionate, meeting her eyes as he pressed his hand against her lower belly. She gasped at the sensation, arching off the bed when his fingers brushed against her clit. She cried out his name, chasing his touch, pleading with him harder, please, oh Maker!

Din was clearly eager to please, drawing his hips back and pulling out almost entirely —only to snap them back again and fill her. There was no helping herself as she closed her eyes, grasping at the sheets as he kept it up. His fingers circled her clit, pressing down and following the grind of her hips as she begged and pleaded with him. 

His other hand gently wrapped around her throat, fingers just under her jaw to guide her gaze back to him as his thrusts became erratic. Her hands wrapped around his wrist, meeting his gaze as the buildings coil inside her finally snapped and she screamed out his name. 

But his movements didn’t stop; spurred on by the clenching of her cunt around his cock, his movements only got harder and faster as he fucked her through her climax. Even as she came down from the moment, eyes full of stars and tears, he didn’t slow until with one more —two more thrusts —and he was spilling over into her. She could feel his cock twitching inside her, feel the warmth of him spreading throughout and dripping out of her. But she didn’t care, falling back into the bed as he dropped to his elbows above her once more. 

They stayed like that for a long while, with him buried deep inside her and their foreheads touching. The room was thick with sex and pleasure, and eventually, Din slid his softening cock out of her. She whined at the loss, but he buried his face in her neck once more, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close to him. 

She let out a sigh, running her hands through his hair. Din rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him to lay on top. He reached up, pushing the hair from her eyes, and she rested her hands on his chest, smiling down at him. 

“Gar cuyir bid mesh'la,” he whispered, touch lingering on her cheek. 

“Mm, can I guess?” He nodded, returning her smile with one of his own. “I think you just called me beautiful.”

“I did —because you are.”

“So are you, Din.”

———

Taglist (CLOSED): @r4iner @sgt-morgan @mingeniee @darling1darling @teriolan-blog @venusfalling @double—take @sunshine96 @lovelessprick @mxtokko @ellepascal @waddafaknik @c-ms1ut @kokoirne @sl-ut @munsons-queen @intense-sneezing @geekrenaissance @dilf-din @tizylish @ruleroftides @aheadfullofsteverogers

#din dijarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian #mando x reader

[dino-fart]

Hello! Could you write about Din Djarin x Fem!Reader? The reader is a Mandalorian just like Din. Both fell in love with each other, however neither knows how to take the first step, since they are inexperienced in everything that is romantic feelings, sexual relations, etc. That this set in the second episode of the third season. You can add smut to it, only if you like. Thanks in advance ✨

You stood by Bo Katan when Din walked down the steps and repeated the creed. You shifted nervously by the Mandalorian princess. "He'll be fine. Don't worry." She put a hand on your shoulder. You nodded and continued to watch. "Too bad he didn't take all of it off, would've been a nice show for you~" Bo Katan whispered and winked at you.

You blushed under your helmet. You had fallen in love with Din, even more so when he took off his helmet. It was when he was saying goodbye to Grogu. He always had your back and kept you safe and you the same. You had no idea if he felt the same though, he was good at hiding his feelings.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you looked up to see Din falling into the water. You and Bo Katan dove into the water to save him. Bo Katan was able to lift him up and used her jet pack to fly up toward the water. You followed right behind her to keep them safe. You and Bo Katan nearly screamed at the sight of the ocean monster and made haste to get out of the water.

The three of you and Grogu were now under the cover of one of the broken buildings in the civic center. Bo Katan made a campfire while Din gained consciousness. You had tried your best to get the water out of your helmet but you were struggling. "Would be easier if you took it off~" Bo Katan smirked. You sighed...She was right and she knew it.

You moved your gloved hands to the ends of your helmet and lifted it off of your head. The water fell down your armor and you gasped for breath. You coughed violently and settled down after a few minutes. You looked over at Bo Katan only to see her smiling widely. "Feel better?" She asked.

"Yeah." You said softly and pulled the hair tie out of your hair that held your bun.

"It's nice to see such a pretty face." Bo Katan teased.

You blushed and stood up to walk over to the other side of the area to redo your hair. Din let out a grumble and sat up slowly. Bo Katan whistled loudly so you couldn't hear Din sitting up. She was tired of you two avoiding each other's feelings, now was as good timing as ever. You finished tying your hair in a long braid and turned around to walk back over to the campfire.

You froze when you saw Din standing a few feet from you. "Mando..." You said nervously.

"You took off your helmet." He said.

"I-I know...Y-You weren't supposed to see." You looked away in shame.

"She couldn't breath, Din, you want her alive or what?" Bo Katan chimed in from her spot. Din didn't respond and moved his hands to the end of his helmet.

You gasped softly, "N-No, you can't, you just bathed in the waters!"

"It's okay...Only here...And only this once...Twice I guess..." Din said softly and pulled his helmet off of his head. You felt your heart skip a beat as you saw his face again. Din's gaze was soft and comforting.

"I knew you two would come around." Bo Katan smirked.

"I'm not abandoning the creed," Din said quickly then turned back to you. He walked toward you and gazed at you. You blushed softly and smiled a little.

"H-How do I look?" You whispered.

"Beautiful and strong." Din leaned in to press his lips against yours. Your heart did a backflip when his lips made contact with yours. You kissed him back and gently cupped his face. He pulled back slowly and rested his forehead against yours.

"Just so you both know, I am not taking you to the waters again. I'll just pretend I saw nothing." Bo Katan said.

Author's Note: I'm a hoe for Bo and Din

Tagging:@deepbatched, @vikingqueen28, @leonkennedyslefthand, @stewardofningishzida, @icytrickster17, @onlinecemetery, @marki-moo0, @absolute-not-original, @creamecafe, @scrubb, @nightingal3-tales, @alliethedaydreamer, @strangesthirdeye, @alexa-33, @zombiedixon89, @sunnsettee, @deliciousfestsalad, @kiaradaniell, @freyafriggafrey, @criticalroleobssedperson, @avengersfan25, @lunamoonbby, @androgynouspersonapricotfan, @foxcantswim, @namorkawaiiwife, @starkiller-queen, @kyuupidwrites, @luciamajer, @renatas10, @ayamenimthiriel, @gaiagurl05, @dipsylou, @pinkthick, @hansai, @andywinter16, @iambored24601, @3-cheese-tortellini, @cumbrbatchbenedict, @ironstrange1991, @aribas-stuff, @rianumochi, @vibaracal, @lostpirateinwonderland​  

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #requests

[asgardwinter]

remember that night?

summary | After months since he left you behind in Nevarro, Din Djarin was knocking at your shop. As always, it wasn’t anything besides business to have him come back, or so you thought.

pairing | Din Djarin x fem!Reader

warnings | SPOILERS FOR S3EP01!, tiny angst and discomfort, a lot of reminiscing about the past…

word count | 3k

author’s note | ok, so… I’m trying something out here and I hope it’s reasonable… I might continue this through the other episodes — it only depends on my inspiration and time… Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy this!! I wrote this while listening to “Remember That Night?” by Sara Keys.

Misc. Characters masterlist | join the taglist! | Main Masterlist

Welcome to Nevarro, independent trade anchor and Outer Rim Hyperlane port. The greeting droid said through the comms. Please state the purpose of your visit. 

Din Djarin didn’t know what he felt as he prepared to land in Nevarro. The planet brought back mixed emotions to the surface, things he kept to himself during the last months and didn’t plan to relieve.

“Here to meet an old friend.” The mandalorian announced. The thought of someone else passing through his head before stating the Magistrate as the friend.

… 

“Is there a problem here, Magistrate?” 

Until Din decided to step into the discussion there were a lot of sharp words and hidden threats exchanged. The pirates were clearly after some trouble with the High Magistrate, but he also knew that Greef Karga was great enough at looking after himself and Nevarro. The truth was that he didn’t want to overstep or get into something if there wasn’t a clear need to.

But the conversation had gone long enough for his personal taste.

“Is there a problem here?” Greef repeated the question, this time looking to the pirates. “What do you think?”

“Not if you serve me a drink.” Vane continued to insist on the drink request — that was also not so much of a request.

“Not in my school.” The Magistrate was firm.

“You hear that, boys?” He started his dramatic number with his colleagues, making a very dramatic pause. “His school.” And finished it with a laugh at his current adversary. “You paid us for murder and mayhem inside these doors. Sounds like you went soft.”

“You think so?” He showed the gun, ready in its holder, a direct response to Vane’s threat. “Try me.”

The staring contest continued, the tension was up and everyone in the audience was waiting to see who would shoot first in that duel.

No surprise to see it was Greef Karga, the blaster falling from Vane’s hands.

“Tell Captain Gorian Shard that Nevarro is no longer friendly to pirates. Now get out of here.”

The other pirates were ready to counterstrike, turning to shoot the High Magistrate. But the mandalorian was of great help, shooting two of them while the other was taken care of by Greef. The people around the scene were tense, some even screamed with surprise, Navarro really had changed. 

In the end of the confrontation Vane was standing there alone, hurt and with no back up.

“Get out of here, Vane. Now.” Greef repeated himself.

“Sure you wanna let him go?” Din was a bit worried, looking at the pirate that was already running from the scene to save his skin.

“Yes.” He nodded. “He'll let it be known that Nevarro is respectable now and not to be trifled with.”

Soon the droids were cleaning the scene up and leaving the street exactly as it was before the small struggle, just as if pirates had never touched the place.

“Yes, sir, right away.” The droid started to complete the task, running around to communicate the responsible droid squad.

“I gotta level with you, Mando. I need a marshal.” Greef confessed.

“What about Marshal Dune?”

“After she brought in Moff Gideon, she was recruited by Special Forces.”

“And what came of Gideon?” Din was curious about it.

“Ugh. He was sent off to a New Republic War Tribunal.” Yeah, that wasn’t truly the best of news but it’d do the job. “So... What do you say? Are you ready to put on the stripes and collect a healthy…”

The mandalorian’s eyes got lost somewhere along the street, a gate that was clearly very well made was open and he could have a peek inside a workshop. A new one that wasn’t there the last time. Between scattered pieces from ships and droids, tools that were high quality even with some dirt covering them from regular use, he found a familiar face.

You.

Very concentrated on the machinery placed in your working table you barely listened to the shooting outside. Din couldn’t really count the huge amount of times he called you out for that same thing.

You need to pay attention to your surroundings even when you are working inside the Crest.

That seemed like a lifetime ago. And you looked just the same from that distance.

That hurt even more,

“You'd make a very fine lawman.” Grief repeated himself.

Din picked up the conversation from where it had stopped. “Why not request one from the New Republic?”

It was going to be a hell of a discussion.

… 

Life in Nevarro was quite simple after Din left.

Right, you couldn’t deny the huge hole left in your heart that had the exact shape of one mandalorian and his small green foundling. You could only sit on the sleepless nights and remember your times on the Razor Crest with them.

But did someone ever die from a broken heart? Well, maybe someone had, but not you.

You made everything work in your own way, just like you were used to doing before you crossed paths with Din Djarin. You were a damn good mechanic, that’s how you met him in the first place, so it wasn't a problem to get your own workshop to attend the region.

You had your bad days too, the competition between the mechanics in the region wasn’t that healthy and you might have used Din’s reputation to your own benefit. 

All with the best of purposes.

But with the whole remodeling of Nevarro it got easier and less threatening. Being in the good graces of Greef Karga was great too, really helped with business and the prestige around the planet. You specialized your abilities in droids as well as ships, expanding your business and even getting two reasonable assistants to help you with the demand.

It was a good way to live.

Not as good as traveling around the galaxy with Din Djarin and Grogu. But reasonably good.

You could say that at least you had a story to tell, telling people you visited some planets, got into adventures, was trained in self defense by a Mandalorian and almost defeated him in a hand-in-hand because you already knew how to fight… 

If you thought enough you could almost hear his laugh through the modulator from that day, the way his hands held yours and you shivered even with his and your gloves in the way.

Those were all good stories. 

Bitter memories now.

So when a huge wall of beskar entered your shop you were more than surprised. 

Of course, you did expect that he would eventually come back to Nevarro, given how much the place was growing as an independent trade center in the Outer Rim.

But you didn’t expect him to be right at your door.

“Din Djarin.” You said looking at his shiny helmet.

Your eyes went searching for the small green frame that was always glued to his father and you smiled to see the little guy. You missed him so much.

“Grogu, it’s very nice to see you.” You winked and he cooed at your gesture. “And what brings you here to my humble shop?”

Din continued to be silent for some time, his helmet showing he was looking around, maybe for any threats because he didn’t trust you right? Just the same man you remembered him to be.

“We need to reconstruct IG-11.” He announced and you were suddenly in a laughter crisis. “What?”

After breathing for about five times you recovered yourself. “Find another droid.” You advised. “IG-11 was destroyed.” He continued to stare at you from behind the cold helmet, until you felt the need to explain yourself. “Look, I’m not a big fan of the disposable way most people view droids these days, but he can’t be recovered. Besides, I can make you a pretty reliable droid and…”

“It’s that droid or nothing.” He was short at his answer.

“Do you even have the pieces?” You asked him.

Easily, he placed IG-11 — or what was left of him — in the top of your table. It was much more than you thought there was in the first place, but it was still far from good news.

“He has hooked up to power and we even woke him up, but we believe he defaulted to his old programming.” DIn started to explain as you examined what was left of your old friend. “He tried to attack Grogu and I had to shoot him.”

“Several times, if I may point.” You looked surprised to see the several recent blaster marks.

There wasn’t much to analyze or diagnose, the droid seemed like a lost cause. The memory circuit was broken and it would take forever to find or make a new one, as well as no promises you would recover IG-11 as he was in the moment of his death.

“We took him to the Anzellans but… I wanted your opinion.”

That was new. Din Djarin assuming he wanted you to say something about the situation? The world wasn’t the same anymore.

“I don’t believe I can fix him Din. Rebuilding a body is a piece of cake, but the memory circuit is jammed, lost actually.” YOu explained, still looking at the drawing for something more exhilarating than that. “I can’t make a new one right now and those are impossible to find these days. And if you find it, they are extremely expensive… So no IG-11 for now.” You concluded, getting away from the working desk.

“What if I find you this circuit?” He considered. “Can you fix it?”

“I’m sure I can. But, even for you, it would be a complicated mission.” You were still trying to put some sense in the head of your the mandalorian. “I’m sure a new one would be…”

“No. It’s IG-11 or nothing.” There was the stubborn man.

“What do you even need him for?” You asked, turning from the starfighter’s parts you were organizing on a shelf.

“We are going to explore Mandalore.” 

It sounded even crazier than the plan of fixing IG-11.

“We? What? How’s that?”

“Me and Grogu.” He detailed. “I need to find the living waters under the mines of Mandalore. Because of… Mandalorian reasons.”

“Oh, I see.” You understood he didn’t want to tell what that s=was about, so all you did was hide the little it hurt you. “If you bring me that piece I can fix it, but just know that you don’t deserve it.”

“I’ll be leaving in the morning to find it.” 

That was the last thing he said before exiting your shop and leaving you behind with your work. You were going to need some alcohol after that interaction, you thought as you just hoped for the day to end sooner.

…

One thing that came with all the change in Nevarro was the nightlife. Of course the bars were still filled, but the patrons had changed from pirates to different types of trades and merchants. So when you chose a random bar on your way home it was less crowded than it’d been a couple months ago, a bit calmer too.

You didn’t need calm.

In a matter of seconds your usual drink was in your hand and you account missing a few credits.

You just wanted to forget that Din was in town, that you had seen him, talked to him and offered your help with IG-11. That was such a terrible idea even for you. You heard him call your name and it was like a sign to down the cup in one gulp.

Kriffing hell, you were even imagining his voice? Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to drink after the encounter…

But it happened again and you turned to look, already cursing yourself for the insanity of it.

And there he was.

“What are you doing here?” Was the first thing you could think to ask.

“Gathering information.”

“Okay. There are other seats in the bar though…” You pointed to the area in the back filled with empty chairs.

Din didn't answer. Instead you ordered another drink and he rushed you to pay for that, leaving some credits on the counter.

“I don’t want you to pay for my stuff.” You warned him without looking at his face. “Don’t want to owe you a single credit, Djarin.”

“Well, I believe I owe you, am I wrong?”

It was time for you to stay in silence. He did owe you, not in a monetary way though, it was more about the time you wasted though you had something.

And that’s how, after several months of distance and no interactions, you found yourself drinking— and by drinking you meant you sipping on a suspicious alcohol and staring back at that huge wall of beskar — in the company of Din Djarin. It could’ve been the very same bar in Nevarro if it wasn’t for Greef Karga’s remodeling of the place.

“I saw you got the kid back.” You tried to start some conversation between the two of you.

“After I completed the mission he found his way back to me.” He explained in such a shallow way you don’t even try to extract more of it.

You wouldn’t try to make a grown ass man talk to you. At least those two were together again, it was easy to remember how the mandalorian was without the little green friend.

That could’ve been a little push towards that fucking night he just disappeared.

You remembered how vague he was with explaining his new mission, and tried one more time to talk to the man, more out of curiosity than the pleasantness of the conversation. “What is the truth about that whole Mandalore thing?”

“I need to bathe in the living waters under the mines of Mandalore. Because I removed my helmet and I am no longer a mandalorian.”

“So, sort of a redemption?”

He nodded and your eyes found the wall behind him.

Silence again.

If you closed your eyes you could pretend it seemed so much like those late nights inside the Crest. You’d sit side by side and just stay there enjoying the presence of each other — or at least that was what you thought you were doing.

Now you were just trying to not lash out on him, trying to be the bigger person and ignore the past for a second. You could come back to hating him after he left again, even if you never managed to hate him properly how you should.

If you maintained the good behavior you could at least have some more time with Grogu, who you missed even more than the mandalorian.

“Thank you for your help.” He said.

“It’s going to cost you.” You reminded him. “I don’t work for free. Only with a small exception for family.”

That word loomed above you two, weighing more than a whole spaceship. Your old spaceship.

And just as if he was reading your mind he talked a few more words. “There’s no space in the starfighter.” 

Your heart skipped a beat. “What happened to the Razor Crest?”

“It’s a long story.” Din told you, adjusting himself in the bar’s stool. “But it doesn’t exist anymore.”

It was just one more thing into that pile of wreckage that was your relation with Din Djarin — if you could even call it that. You knew already you were a fool to expect that it could all be some sort of misunderstanding, a terrible joke the universe was playing on you, but it was real life.

The mandalorian was just a huge jerk.

“There’s no space in the starfighter.” He repeated himself, more serious this time as if that was possible.

“Oh, I see.” It was your turn to be blank and right to the point. “Believe me, I do. So, if this isn’t some catching up with friends what is it?”

“I—” It wasn’t the first time you saw the mandalorian falther to answer something, but was one of the few of those.

“Why are you here, Din?” You spat it before he could continue. “Why did you really come here tonight? Shouldn’t you be preparing to find that goddamn piece?”

“That’s just what I’m doing.”

“You know Din, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” The alcohol was giving you a bit more courage and that was all you needed to do what you wanted and dreaded for those last months. “Why did you kiss me that day?”

The mandalorian was mute to your question, not a word or a move slipped out of his armor and you decided you were best by yourself trying to heal from something you had imagined.

“Well, I guess this explains a lot.”

You got up from the stool you were sitting and downed the rest of your drink in one large sip. Turning to go out the cantina, you stopped in your tracks once more, just to ask Din one more thing.

“Just one thing.” You were a bit more loud with those words. Nothing that would turn looks towards you but just enough to prove a point. “What the fuck was I to you this whole time we travelled around?”

“You were my mechanic.” It was like default words, like he was a droid programmed to say. “The Razor Crest was a huge job for someone to do it alone.”

What were you expecting anyways?

“I’m going to reassign the job to the Anzellans. They are better with lost causes anyway. And reliable to hire.” You warned him, with a tip in the end because you just couldn’t help yourself. “Goodbye, Din Djarin. I… Don’t show up anymore, ok? It’s just too hard to see Grogu if I can’t spend time with him.” You whispered the last part, walking towards the door and, later, to your room in the back of the shop.

The streets were not too crowded, it was working days anyway so not many people were drowning themselves in drinks or the nightclubs around town. You walked slowly, trying to postpone the moment where you’d lay your head on the pillow and have deep reflections slipping inside your head with no invitation.

At least you knew he wouldn’t stay too long in town.

Right?

#asgardwinter writes #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian reader insert #mando x reader #din djarin angst #mando x you #star wars reader insert