#MANDO YOU CAN TAKE THE HELMET OFF!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-scandalorian · 6 months

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Pairing: Din Djarin x female sex worker!reader Rating: E, 18+ Word Count: 3.1k Content Warnings: touch-starved Din; reader is blindfolded; smut Summary: Mando makes regular visits to the healing baths. Note: A big thank you to @frannyzooey for always enabling my depravity and finding the dope ass images for my header ❤︎

He always waits for you inside the door.

“It’s the least I can do,” he says, when you’re surprised by the unexpected touch the first time. A light hand cups your elbow, guiding you to the middle of the room, until you can feel the smooth tiles that mark the edge of the sunken pool with your bare toes.

The marble is slick with condensation, heated by the same geothermal source that warms the spring water. The air is steamy and humid, braided with the rich scents of cardamom and argan oil, of rose from the petals you know are strewn across the surface of the bath. Candles flicker languidly in the shadowy corners of the room, but you can’t detect any of their light.

When you lower yourself to the floor—carefully, blindly—he checks the tightness of the black silk wrapped around your eyes with gentle fingers. He reassures himself it’s secure, that you can’t see a thing through the fabric in the dark, hazy room. A reassurance he needs every time.

You come to expect it. To expect him.

He’s consistent. He’s hesitant.

It takes dozens of visits before he lets you join him in the bath. You always offer; he always refuses—politely, always so politely: a no, thank you, eventually paired with a fleeting touch. A warm hand placed over yours. Two fingers stroked down the red silk of your dress. If you’re lucky, a squeeze to the thick of your thigh or a graze of your cheek. His denial is so soft, so warm—so regretful—that you ask every time just to hear him want it.

When he inevitably says no, you sit behind him on a velvet cushion on the edge of the pool instead, swathed in the inky blackness of your blindfold, your feet dangling in the warm water, and work scented oils into his skin and tension out of his shoulders, his neck, his arms, his back, his chest. Your existence is reduced to tactile information, your world narrowed to the sensations in your hands—the textures at the tips of your fingers. The taut muscles of his shoulders, the raised scars that litter his arms and chest, the hair dusted over his pectorals, the callouses on his palms. All slick with water, slippery with massage oil.

The helmet stays on for the first handful of visits. You know by the modulated sound of his voice, by the brush of beskar against your wrist when you work a knuckle into the base of his stiff neck. It disappears somewhere around the tenth visit. When he meets you at the door, your name sounds markedly different. You don’t mention it, don’t draw attention to it, but you do enjoy the unfiltered, raw quality of his voice from then on.

The noises he makes when you touch him are always better than you remember. Their tone and cadence mark a gradual progression from high strung and uneasy to mellow and sedate as the tension coiled in his muscles dissipates under your hands. The harsh exhales devolve into low groans, quiet grunts. Sounds of pleasure waited too long to be had, of physical release so desperately needed. Every once in a while, when you work out a particularly stubborn knot, he murmurs a hushed, rumbling oh, fuck.

Once, when you earn a delicious moan paired with a strained, needy fuck, just like that, he bites off the last word so harshly that you know it was involuntary.

It turns you on more than the touch of any client ever has.

Even with the blindfold, you can feel the burn of his eyes on your skin. Its weight is familiar from the start, when you meet him at the entrance to the baths, the echoing stone entry hall with its gilded fixtures and branches of guttering candles. A balled fist rested on the counter, he nods at you in all his armored glory, a cordial gesture that seems to gain gravity and intimacy each time he offers it. The black visor follows your walk down the long hallway to your rooms, dips to your hips when he thinks you’re not looking. Heavy, substantial. Pressure that could be measured, harsh enough to leave an imprint in its wake.

It stays on you until you shut the door between you, leaving you in the antechamber to tie on your blindfold and him in the main room to undress.

When you knock and enter, you can still track his gaze despite the layers of black silk—the feeling of it like a searing brand. Settled on your face when you smile up at him. Dragged over the curves of your breasts when you shamelessly tip forward to trail fingers through the water and they just barely begin to spill over the low cut of your dress. Trained on the movement of your tongue when you part your lips and lick a slow, gratuitous line over the bottom one. Riveted to the dark space between your legs when you spread your knees unnecessarily wide and the fabric of your thin, short dress rides up your thighs.

You tell yourself not to hope for more.

Then one day he shows up, and you can tell something is off. His usual steady, controlled energy has been replaced with a pent-up buzz. He’s worked up. You can hear it in his clipped words, feel it in the extra touches. The hand on your lower back guides you to the pool almost hurriedly.

His shoulders are even tighter than usual when you get your hands on them, his back a series of stony knots. He groans when you work at the tension in his neck, your thumbs digging into the tautness at the base of his skull. And when you offer yourself this time, feeling optimistic that you’ll get your most reluctant no yet, a strong hand guides you slowly and wordlessly down the smooth stone steps to join him in the water.

Reflexively, you pull your dress up and over your head, tossing it behind you before the hem can catch in the water. You lose his touch in the process, but a path of goosebumps down your body echoes the course of his gaze as it pulls along your curves. You can feel his attention, his captivation at your nakedness in the fervent tension that snaps taut between you.

His invitation is so unexpected, though, that once you’re standing in the hot, waist-deep water, you’re stunned motionless. Disoriented. You don’t know where he is for a moment; you feel his hot gaze everywhere, all at once. You never actually thought you’d get this far with him, and now it feels daunting—the darkness of blindfold, the ever-changing line of his limits and preferences. You feel untethered.

Until the water shifts and he touches you.

“Beautiful,” he says, damp fingers following the curve of your cheek so lightly you can only just feel them.

You take his hand in both of yours and kiss his palm, soft lips brushing over rough skin. He catches you under your chin, and one fingertip traces your lips, his other hand settling on your waist, flexing.

You don’t want to push him too fast, and you also want to take full advantage of this opportunity while you finally have it.

You part your lips, and his fingers still.

You let your tongue peek out to circle the pad of one finger, inviting. To your delight, he responds by carefully pushing two fingers into your mouth. When you close your lips around them and suck, he lets out a broken, pained sound, pressing down on your tongue lightly before he eases them back out and drags a wet line down your chin to settle his hand around your throat.

You smile up at him, unseeing, as you trail fingers down his chest, the soft give of his stomach, dipping below the water as you reach the ridge of his hipbone. Moving slowly, always slowly, so he can stop you if he wants to.

Sure enough, his hand finds yours, trapping it against his skin. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to," you interrupt. "I want to touch you.”

It’s an understatement. There isn’t enough time to share all the myriad ways you’ve fantasized about touching him.

“I’ve thought about this since the first time I saw you walk in here in your armor,” you say, letting your voice pitch low. “What you’d feel like under all that metal.”

His hand disappears, and yours slips further down the v of his hips to wrap around the base of his cock. Hard, thick, big like you knew it would be.

“I think about it every time I work my way down your chest. How easy it would be to slip my hands lower...to see if you enjoy having my hands on your body as much as I do.”

He breathes out slowly, but his whole body is rigid as you drag your other hand over his shoulder, down his chest, a granite statue under your touch even as you start to work him over in long, luxurious strokes.

“I’ve been dying to know, Mando.”

His cock twitches in your hand, his skin hot and slick as it pulls over his hard length. He isn’t relaxing into your touch like he usually does, and this white-knuckled, shallow-breath, penitent version of pleasure is not at all what you’d intended for him, what he deserves.

You tip your face up toward his. “I need you to relax for me. Can you do that?”

A rough exhalation. Noncommittal, a little wry.

You step closer, gingerly moving into his space. He lets you. The water shifts around you as you move into him, close enough that your breasts brush his warm body and you can place a soft kiss on his chest. His ribs expand in a rapid, deep inhale, a rough hitching breath, and his hand comes up to cup the back of your neck.

You press him backward with a palm to his sternum, and he resists reflexively, his feet planted firmly. A man not so easily moved. Who is used to doing the telling, not being told.

“Sit for me?”

He relents with a hum, going pliant for you as you back him up to sit on the submerged marble bench. He helps you climb up, strong hands guiding your movements, settling you onto your knees in a straddle over his lap.

You dip your head to find the crook of his neck and lavish open-mouthed kisses on his throat, below his ear, automatically respecting the limits of where his helmet would be, as you move your hand between your bodies. You’ve never touched above his neck and won’t change that now, even though you’re dying to trace the contours of his face, to fit your lips to his.

Perched over him, you can feel his body gradually relax under your attention, his posture softening, his breath dropping into a more natural cadence. His hands find your hips, your thighs, slide back to grip your ass, as you begin to increase the pace of your stroke.

“Have you, Mando? Have you thought about this?”

You feel him nod once against the side of your head. Jerky, frantic.

“Good,” you purr into his skin, letting your teeth drag over his collarbone.

He groans, his hips lifting off the bench to push himself into your grip harder. The heat that always simmers in your core when you’re around him grows and spreads. It’s overwhelming—so much of his bare skin on your bare skin, after so long with so little. Almost feverish as you move together in the hot water.

Your hand pauses mid-stroke; his hands tighten in protest, sliding you a tiny bit closer on his tense thighs. “Do you think about me?”

His ragged breathing stalls. He nods again. “All the time.”

You hum, pleased, and resume the tight pull of your fist. Your own arousal is approaching a blistering point, so hot and bright, and he’s barely touching you—one hand on your ass, the other dragged up your body to palm your breast, his strong thighs pressed to the inside of yours. He rolls your nipple between two fingers, and you gasp.

“Feel so good,” he rasps, the heavy weight of his hands reverent as they catalog the slopes and rises of your body. “Just like I imagined.”

You can’t help but think about how easily you could sit on his cock right now. All it would take is a slight shift and tilt of your hips and you could catch the blunt head at your entrance. He’d stretch you so deliciously—that girth and length—but your wetness would let you work yourself down onto his lap until he was filling you completely. You’d fuck an orgasm out of him, riding him until he found his release in the tight clutch of your body, milking his cock until he shuddered from the oversensitivity.

One day. Maybe.

He’s close—you can tell by the strain in his voice, by his ragged breath, by the way his hands tighten on your ass. By the way he wraps one large hand around yours on his cock, tightening your grip.

“Just like that.”

You’d give anything to see his face when you feel the urgent flex of his hips as he fucks into your joined hands, the jerk and shudder of his large frame as it curves over you, his forehead dropping to rest heavily on your shoulder as he moans brokenly through the pleasure. It’s the most intimate part of all of this—so human, so trusting. So tempting to reach up and touch his face, to put detail to what you’ve imagined so many times.

You regret that your hand is submerged in water, that you can’t feel his hot release slide over the dips and swells of your knuckles. That you won't be able to lick it off your fingers—to taste it, for your own pleasure and for his. To listen to the sounds he’d make as he watched you eat his come.

Instead, when it’s over, when he’s finished, the weight of his forehead lifts from your shoulder and his touch abandons your body. You resist the urge to search it out, to ask for it back.

You imagine how he looks unwound underneath you, his head tipped back against the edge of the pool, muscles slack. His body finally truly relaxed.

Your part is done.

He’s never spent this long here, and you imagine he’s hyperaware of that. Always on a timeline. Some small part of you thought maybe—hoped—this time would be different, that maybe he’d linger, that maybe he’d want to touch you. You slide backward off his lap to take your leave reluctantly, but when you reach blindly for the edge of the pool, there’s the sound of quick movement through the water and he closes a hand around your wrist.

Relief courses through your veins.

He doesn’t say anything, just guides you. You can’t tell what his aim is until he arranges your body over his just so—just the way he wants you. He has you straddle his lap backwards this time, your back flush to his chest, your knees opened wide by the spread of his legs between yours.

You think about what he does for work, the command and skill it requires. Those capable hands and sure grip have wrestled so many bounties into submission—into handcuffs, into rope bindings, into his carbonite chamber—and here they are exerting their power and ability for the sake of your pleasure. Blunt instrument, suddenly fine.

His breath is hot by your ear, his heavy hand settling meaningfully on your inner thigh. “Can I—?”

“Yes. Fuck, please—”

You guide his hand between your legs, desperate, and his mouth finds the back of your neck. His mouth. Stubble scrapes across your skin, soft lips molding to the contour of your shoulder. The heat that’s been building in your body, that started as a low smolder in your core, has been growing to a rolling boil the whole time you were touching him. And his mouth on your body? Like striking a match to gasoline.

The reality of the situation, the surprise of this touch, ratchets your arousal to a precipitous height. It’s the sheer brazenness of it—the unflinching way he’s taking such a huge step. In the name of your pleasure, of his desire to taste you.

The offering of such intimacy, a secret shared.

A warm tongue blazes a lazy trail from the notch of your vertebra to your nape as two fingers slip into the slit of your sex, beginning a slow massage of your clit. Your mind goes blank.

It’s almost embarrassing how easily he makes you come, how little time it takes with his hand between your legs and his lips on your skin. He fucks you with two thick fingers, another swirling over your clit, and you wonder vaguely how he knows how to curl the two inside you just right against your g-spot.

You reach behind you to grip the back of his neck as you arch, your hips circling. He hooks his chin over your shoulder and you go molten at the thought that he’s watching himself finger-fuck you to climax.

“Are you going to—?”

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good.”

It's said through clenched teeth, a gritted jaw. He’s deriving so much pleasure from your pleasure, it's dizzying.

Teeth close over your shoulder and he bites down as you begin shudder and shake, as you clench and spasm around the thrust of his fingers—as you listen to his voice break on a groan as he feels it and draws it out—until the pleasure wanes and you melt back against him, boneless and sated, his strong body an anchor underneath you in the water.

You pant together, your head tipped back to rest on his shoulder, and all you can think about is how fucking close his lips are to yours. You could turn your face and kiss his jaw. He could angle your head and push his tongue into your mouth so easily. You’re so pliant; you want it so badly.

You consider asking. And then you consider the fact that he’s likely thinking about the same thing—your closeness is palpable, the tension a live, shivering thing—and he isn’t doing anything about it. He isn’t fitting a hand to your cheek to maneuver you just so.

You won’t ask for something he isn’t ready to offer.

When he finally does let you go, this visit that was so different from the others ends the same. He guides you back to the exit and hands you the robe that hangs by the door. As he helps you shoulder it on, he murmurs a sincere thank you, accompanied by a rumble of your name.

There’s one notable difference: as you're walking through the doorway, he catches your hand and squeezes it fleetingly before letting it drop.

The door shuts behind you with a click.

As always, a stack of credits far too high will be left in the room for you, and just like every other time, you’ll wait impatiently for his return.

#din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #mando x you #din djarin x f!reader #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x female reader #mando x female reader #the mandalorian x female reader

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tremendum · 2 years

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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

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noisynaia · 2 years

Note

Hey! I really love your Mando fics. Can I request something where the reader is traveling with Din and Grogu on the crest (could be Grogu's babysitter or something) and Din has a huge crush on her and seeing how much she loves grogu makes him want to confess his feelings. Just some nice Mando fluff, can be sfw or nsfw, whatever you feel like. 💕

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐲

Thank you for the request! I had so much fun writing this ♡

word count: 5.7k

pairing: Din Djarin x afab!reader

note: Explicit (18+). Smut and fluff. Thigh riding, unprotected P in V (with use of contraception), creampie. Love confessions. The helmet comes off. The Razor Crest lives. No use of (y/n). This has not been beta nor proof read and English is not my native language.

Din’s heart skips a beat at the sight of you. He has tried to fight the feelings he has developed for you, convinced himself that his feelings aren’t truly as deep cutting as they feel. Tried to be content with the time you would spend with him and Grogu before you eventually would move on and he’d be left with the memories and the fantasies of how it would have been if you had really been his. The sight of you and Grogu is almost too much for him, and it makes it very hard for him to not just give up everything and tell you how you make him feel. Your features are highlighted by the silvery moon light that is shining down from the night sky.

You are beautiful.

Din had thought so from the moment he first saw you. But now, after you have travelled with him and Grogu for almost a year and he has gotten to know you, really know you, ‘beautiful’ simply doesn’t cut it anymore. The word in basic is feeling too banal, too trivial, to describe the true beauty of your being. You are the most beautiful person Din has ever known and he is confirmed in this by you every day.

The way you smile up at him when you walk side by side in a crowded market when you’re on supply runs, always insisting on finding a treat or a new toy for Grogu. The way you always greet Din so happily when he comes back from a hunt, like you truly are happy to see him again, like you have actually missed him… How you will always make sure he is okay and hasn’t been hurt, and how you will insist on helping patch him up on the occasions he is. The feeling of your soft hands delicately placing a bacta patch on his bare shoulder a few weeks ago is still burnt into his skin… The way you take such good care of his son, you look at Grogu like he is the one who hung every moon and every star in the galaxy. The kindness and beauty of your soul is truly bewitching. Maybe that is why he started calling you mesh’la.

The first time it had just slipped out. It was a couple of months ago. He had come back from a hunt late at night, tired and muddy. For a short moment, Din had felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs by the sight he had found. There you were, so lovely, so beautiful, fast asleep on his bunk with a sleeping Grogu curled up beside you, his little green fist closed around one of your fingers.

Din’s heart had yearned by the sight. The feelings you and Grogu are bringing to him are new territory for Din. He has never wanted anything like this before, or at least never let himself admit that he does. But you and Grogu make it impossible for Din to keep lying to himself. The kid is under his care, under his protection, and from the moment he chose the armour instead of the sabre and came back to Din, his ad'ika. Din and Grogu are a clan. A clan of two. A clan that Din wishes was a clan of three.

He had been quiet when he started to walk off to the cockpit, something he usually was good at, but you had stirred awake anyway, like your sleeping subconscious had felt his presence. You lifted your head from the pillow, sleepily blinked until your eyes had found him.

“You’re back.” You had said, your voice had been a little hoarse from sleep, but still as sweet as usual, a tired smile had painted your face as your eyes had found the dark T of his visor.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He had said, but you had just shaked your head and hugged Grogu close against you. Oh, how Din had wished he could have crawled into the bunk and joined the two of you.

“Are you okay?” You had asked, just like you always do after he comes back from a hunt.

“Yes, I’m okay.” He had reassured you before continuing. “Go back to sleep, mesh’la.”

He has never told you what it means and a part of him feels guilty about that. Maybe you wouldn’t like to be called that by him. You are technically his employee, even though the lines between you feel pretty blurry by now. An undefinable bond has been built between you, Grogu and Din. Maybe it is the small proximity there is forced upon the three of you, due to the size of the Razor Crest. Or maybe it is due to the undeniable connection there has been between you and Grogu from the beginning, but your presence on the Crest feels too domestic, too loving, for you to simply be Grogu’s nanny.

Din has felt feelings this past year that he has not been acquainted with before. Desire, jealousy, a desperate yearning, all fairly foreign to him until you had entered his life. It is an emotional disruption he hasn’t felt since Grogu had come into his life.

When Grogu had come crashing into his life it had been an upheaval beyond anything Din could ever have imagined. He was so used to not having anyone around, let alone a small child that was so dependent on him. It had been confusing and foreign, but Grogu had climbed into his heart and carved out a space there. A space that Din never wants to become empty again.

Din had never been aware of how lonely he actually had been before Grogu. It had been a hard realisation, but he couldn’t deny it any longer, especially when he thought that he had lost him. Forget hunting bounties and fighting ferocious creatures, handing his foundling over to the Jedi was the hardest thing Din has ever had to do. Din had ended up caring more for Grogu than he had ever thought possible, he had removed his helmet for his foundling, the little green child had given din a whole new purpose in life.

And now Din is a changed man. Grogu has changed him, down to the very atoms of his DNA. Din had never thought he would have what he now has. He had been settled with the way his life had been- lonesome and brutal, in order to support his covert and give back to the Mandalorians that had taken him in, or he had at least used to think so…

But seeing you now, there is really no way of running from his feelings any longer. You are gently bouncing Grogu on your hip as you point out a constellation for him, but the youngling seems to be more interested in playing with the hem of your tunic than looking at the stars over your heads. The silver light from the planet’s moons illuminates you and bathes you in the shine.

Din had landed the Crest on the little planet not even twenty minutes ago and even though it was past Grogu’s bedtime you had insisted on letting him have a couple of minutes in the fresh air before putting him down for the night. Din had not objected, the three of you had been in space for almost a week straight so a little moonlit night stroll before bed had sounded tempting.

A light breeze sweeps over you and Grogu lets go of your tunic to instead nuzzle himself close against your chest as he lets out a cute little yawn. You let out a low chuckle before looking up at Din and his heart skips a beat for the second time this night. The stars are reflecting in your eyes and you have a sleepy smile on your lips.

“I think it is time to get our little one here back to his bed.” You chuckle while you hitch Grogu up a little higher on your hip.

‘Our little one…’

Our!

Dear Maker how Din wished that you had meant it in the way he secretly yearns for.

“Yeah, let’s head back to the ship, mesh’la.”

—

Grogu is sleepily blinking his big eyes up at you as he slowly snoozes off in your arms. You let out a content sigh as you plant a kiss on top of his little green head before carefully placing him down into his little hammock. The sound of his small soft snores echoes through the little sleeping chamber. You are never gonna get tired of this. You smile down at the little sleeping figure as you back away, turning the switch for the door to give the youngling peace to sleep.

You look around the hull for Din, but you don’t find him so you climb up the ladder to the cockpit where you find him sitting in the pilot chair. He looks like he is lost deep in his thoughts, looking out through the window at the night dark meadow where he had docked the ship.

“Hey.” You say as you approach him, sitting yourself down in the passenger seat next to him.

“Hi.” He says without looking at you.

A silence falls over the cockpit, not necessarily an uncomfortable one, but it does feel loaded with something you can’t really put your finger on. Din had been silent for the entire walk back to the Crest and you wonder if something is bothering him. Maybe he is just tired. You had told him to take the bunk tonight when you made it back to the ship, but he had refused. You were supposed to be taking turns sleeping in the bunk under Grogu’s hammock, but it has been weeks since Din has slept in it and wasn't like he did it often before that. You feel bad about it, his back must be killing him after all these nights on the hard mat on the floor.

“Din is-” You lean forward in the passenger chair, leaning slightly towards him to try and catch his attention. “Is something wrong?”

He finally looks away from the window and turns his helmet towards you, and despite only being met by the dark visor of his helmet you just know that his eyes under it are locking with yours. The thought of that always sends a little shiver through you. You know that you shouldn't think about it. Maybe it is wrong, an insult to his creed, but you can’t help but fantasise about the man he must be underneath all the beskar. He is handsome, that is for sure. It doesn’t even matter in what way, it is deeper than that. He is a handsome person no matter what he actually looks like under the helmet and armour. You have seen some of him in glimpse. A bare hand as he removes a glove to get a better grip on as he fixes a clasp on a crate, or the time he had gotten hit in the spot between two pieces of armour and you had helped him getting it bandaged. His face is still a mystery to you. It is a little weird not to know what he looks like, especially considering that you have fallen in love with him.

You had not meant to fall in love with the Mandalorian. You had tried to fight it, but it was a fight you had no chance of winning. You know that you are being silly, but you sometimes get the idea that he might feel something for you too. It also doesn’t help that you have ended up loving Grogu as much as you do. You don’t think you could love him more if he had been your own. It is kind of scary, the thought of the day din decides he doesn’t need you anymore. That your feelings for Din never will be reciprocated hurts, but you will be able to get over it with time, but the day you will have to get separated from Grogu… Oh, that day is going to kill you.

“No, mesh’la nothings wrong.” Din shakes his head, he isn’t looking at you anymore, back to looking out at the night. “I was just lost in my own thoughts.”

“Oh, okay...”

You sit in silence for a little while, you don’t know if you should go and let him be alone with his thoughts or if you should break the silence. You are just about to open your mouth to say something, what you don’t even know, but the silence feels too much. Din beats you to it though.

“The kid, he uhm…” His voice is much softer than usual, almost close to a whisper. “He really likes you.”

“Well, I really like him too.” You say, you can’t help the soft smile spreading on your lips.

“I’m glad you do, mesh’la…”

“You know… You keep calling me that, but you have never told me what it means.”

“I guess I haven’t…” His voice is low and a little shaky through the modulator.

You don’t know what it is with him tonight, but something feels different.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your fluttering heart. “Are you gonna tell me?”

He freezes in the chair, sitting more still than usual, if that is even possible. He is almost reminiscent of a statue. The silence builds, and you begin to regret that you asked. The air between you feels charged, but you can’t figure out with what. It feels like whatever his answer is gonna be it is gonna fundamentally change something between you. You are starting to think that he is going to ignore your question when he finally breaks the silence.

“Beautiful.” His voice sounds a little weak, almost like he regrets telling you, but he continues in a more confident tone. “It means beautiful.”

Beautiful… He’s been calling you beautiful all this time? The word always falling so naturally from his lips, soft and earnestly.

The rapid beats of your heart against the restraints of your ribcage thumbs loudly in your ears. You can’t believe what he just said. He is finally looking back at you again, but any signs of what he is feeling are hidden behind the dark reflection of the visor.

“You call me beautiful?”

“Yeah, I do… Trust me, if anything or anyone has ever deserved to be called that, it is you.”

You can not believe that this is really happening, is there really a chance that he might feel the same as you?

“I don’t know what to say.” You say, the hope that has bloomed in your chest is scaring you.

“You don’t have to say anything. I actually would prefer it if you don’t… I’m sorry if I have made you uncomfortable.” He stands up from the chair, turning his back to you.

“Din please don’t go…” You grab his wrist before he can get to the ladder and disappear down the hull. “Din, I need you to tell me how you feel, please… I need to know.”

“Dank farrik.” He curses under his breath and turns around to face you again. “I don’t know how to do this…” He shuffles anxiously from one foot to another.

It is always so surprising to see Din like this, the usual confident and stoic bounty hunter all anxious and nervous, but you have seen it a few times before. He might be a tough and hardy bounty hunter, but put the man in a social setting and he can get nervous. But this is a whole new level.

“Grogu he…” He pauses, the sound of his breath sounds shaky through the modulator of his helmet. “He means the world to me. I love him, he… he is mine. I never thought that I would have that, my life was never set on that path, I didn’t think I was ever meant to be anyone’s buir, but… now I can’t imagine my life without him in it. It was hard for me to accept that I wanted someone around, but I couldn’t deny it any longer.”

His words come out with so much emotion, you have never heard him like this before. You know that he loves his son, he shows that every day, but hearing him say it like this… The rawness, the emotions. Your vision starts to turn blurry as the tears start to build in the corner of your eyes. You want to be a part of that love so bad.

“What I’m trying to say is…” He takes a shaky breath through the modulator, his shoulders are tense under the shoulder plates of his armour and his gloved hands are curled into tight anxious fists. “Now I can’t imagine my life without you in it either.”

“Oh…” Your lips part, you are founding yourself dumbfounded. Is this really happening?

“I want you to be a part of my life, both our lives…” He is actually shaking as he tells you this. “I don’t want to just be a clan of two anymore… I want you mesh’la.”

You suddenly understand. The way you will sometimes worry that he is avoiding you, or how you sometimes feel like your presence is making him uncomfortable. It makes sense now, you rise from the chair and close the distance between the two of you. You search for the eyes under the helmet, even though you can’t see them you want him to know that you are looking at him - the man and not the Mandalorian. You realise how hard this must be for him, he has been hidden away for all of his adult life, physically, but emotionally too. You reach out for him, placing your palms on the sides of his helmet.

“Din…” You start out, it is probably just something you imagine, but it is like you can feel the heat of his skin through the beskar on your hands. “You already got me. I’m already yours.”

“Really?” It is Din’s turn to sound like he doesn’t believe what he is hearing.

“Yes, Din.” You can feel the tears sliding down your cheeks now, and you can’t keep the grin off your face as you nod up at him. “I’m yours, okay. Yours and Grogu’s.”

“And we are yours... Kriff, mesh’la I’m all yours.” He gasps through the modulator. He rests his forehead against yours, the coolness of the beskar is feeling nice against your warm skin. You stand like this for a moment, simply enjoying the intimacy of the closeness, your hands cradling his helmet and his resting on your hips. The silence stretches until Din finally breaks it.

“I want to kiss you so badly.” He confesses.

“I know.” You say, but you know that he can’t and that is okay. You have accepted that things with him are going to be different than it would have been with others, so the shock you’re feeling when a loud hiss is echoing off the durasteel walls is big. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut without even thinking about it. Your hands land over your closed eyes, like an extra protection to make sure you don’t see him.

“What are you doing?!” You shriek as you hear the loud thud of beskar landing on the metal floor. Din has removed his helmet! He didn’t even give you a warning so you could close your eyes before, you had been quick so you haven't really seen him just gotten a quick blurry peek.

“Open your eyes, mesh’la.” His voice is so low and soft, it is so close to a whisper, you almost miss it. His fingers brush against your hands to make you remove them from your eyes. His bare hands, you notice, and the skin on skin contact makes a hot shiver run down your spine. “Please.” He adds.

You can’t believe this. First you learn that he has been calling you beautiful for months, then he tells you that he wants you to stay with him and Grogu and now… Now Din is helmetless in front of you and he wants you to see him?

“Are you sure?” You stutter.

“Yes, mesh’la.” This time he speaks with his whole chest, like he has never been more sure about anything in his life. The sound of his voice without the modulator of his helmet hits your ears and you feel like you might cry. It’s deep and rich, reminding you of the sonorous melodies played on a f'nonc horn.

You inhale a shaky breath before removing your hands from your eyes and slowly blinking them open. And there he is. Din Djarin, your Din Djarin, staring back at you. You let out a little gasp as you take in the sight of him. You can’t believe that this is what he has been hiding all this time. You knew you would like the way he looked, because it would be him, but the reality is still exceeding all expectations you had. Din Djarin is gorgeous. The brown hair, that curls up at the ends, matches the colour of the irises of the prettiest most soulful eyes you have ever seen. His strong jaw is covered with a short, slightly patchy, beard that frames his face nicely. A moustache is framing his mouth. A mouth with the most kissable lips you have ever seen.

Another long silence breaks out between you, both of you are shocked by the situation.

“Hi…” He finally says and it is all that you need to break out of your haze.

“Hi.” You smile at him, maybe the brightest smile of your life.

You reach out for him, you need him closer.

“Do I disappoint?” He asks, but he is smiling too now.

“Hell no.” You shake your head with a laugh, the thought of this face disappointing anyone is an absurd idea.

“You’re beautiful.” You whisper, your hands find his hair, wrapping your fingers in his soft locks. He leans his forehead down to rest against yours again. It had felt good before, but this - his skin against yours, oh that is heaven. The two of you stay like this for a while, enjoying the affinity between you.

“What about that kiss?” You finally say and it is all he needs to hear. His lips crash onto yours. It is like a switch has been turned, the softness from before replaced with an intense hunger. The kiss is heated and needy, like he is desperate to taste you, wanting to map out every corner of your mouth. His hands are on your hips, a tight grip as he pushes you closer against him.

You gasp into his mouth as you feel the solid curve of his bulge press against your pelvis. It is sending a warm shiver through you that settles in your lower stomach. You press yourself into him, slightly grinding your hips against his clothed cock which pulls a low groan out of him. His broad hands squeezes your hips, guiding your rhythm as you rock against him.

“Do you really want this?” You ask him

“More than anything.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Do you?”

“Yes!” You nod wildly. “I’ve never wanted anything or anyone as badly as I want you.”

Your confession makes him let out a deep groan from deep within his throat, it makes a new shiver run through you. His fingers find the hem of your pants which he starts to slide down your legs. You take over, kicking the garment of your legs as you push him towards the pilot’s chair.

“Sit.” You command. You don’t know what it is, you are usually not the commanding type, but you are feeling wild tonight, drunk off of Din’s lips.

Something flickers in Din’s eyes at your sudden bossy tone. “Yes, ma’am.” He mutters as he sits back in the seat, his strong thighs spread out and a cocky smile on his lips. Fuck, he is going to be the death of you aren’t he?

You take a second to enjoy the view, before walking over to him, stepping between his thighs. Your hand lands in his hair as you look down at him through hooded eyes.

“Come here, mesh’la.” He whispers as he reach out for you, gripping your hips and pulling you closer. You lift your leg over him, straddling his broad lap.

He groans at the pressure, as you start to rock your clothed cunt against his muscular thigh. You suspect that he can feel the warmth of your dampness through the fabric. Din adjusts his hold on your waist, helping you set a rhythm as he begins to move your hips. He is moving you slowly at first, but the eager sounds you’re letting out is quickly making him pick up the pace. You purr out his name as you feel his thigh flex under you.

“Kriff… Doing so good for me, mesh’la.” Din curses under his breath. “Looking so pretty.”

“Mmm..” You hum out, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you keep grinding against him until you can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck, Din, I...” You whine, feeling the fabric of your panties getting gradually more and more damp against him.

“I need you, Din” You remove your head from his neck so you can look deeply into his eyes. His brown eyes are burning you, his hands coming to a still.

“Okay, yeah…” He nods at you, his pupils are blown wide and a flush is covering his cheeks. “Ne-need you too, mesh’la.”

His eyes are still locked with yours as he moves you, making you lift yourself up from him so he can start on removing some of his armour plates. You use the time to get rid of your tunic, leaving you in only your bra and panties. He ends up removing most of his armour, leaving him warm and soft for you.

He pulls you down on him again, connecting your lips once more as his hand dives down to your panties, sliding his fingers under the hem and finding your clit which he begins to stroke with slow, firm circles after coating his digits with your wetness, making you moan into the kiss.

“Fuck, mesh’la, you’re so wet. All soaked, just for me. My sweet, sweet girl.” He whisper against your mouth.

He keeps circling your clit with one hand, setting a faster pace as his other hand finds your breast, squeezing it gently through your bra, making you let out another desperate moan. Your hands find the clasp at your back, fingers fumbling slightly from eagerness as you open the latch before zealously removing the item from your body. Din lets out a pleased groan as your exposed breasts appear. His free hand, that isn’t occupying your clit, eagerly kneads the soft plumpness of one of your tits before taking its nipple between his fingers and gently twisting it.

“Oh, fuck… Fuck, Din, I…” You whine out, feeling your orgasm approach. You don’t think you have ever felt it come this early before, but he has you so riled up.

“I know baby, I know.” He encourages. “You can mesh’la, you can come for me.”

It is all you need to hear, the last string that holds you together gets cut and the warm euphoric waves of pleasure wash over you. His name is falling from your lips over and over again as you ride out your orgasm.

“Did that feel good?” He asks you with a kiss to the top of your head when you’ve finally come back down from your high and now has relaxed into him.

“So good.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He says and you can hear the smile in his voice without even looking at him.

“Wanna make you feel good too.” You say letting your fingers find his cheek and gently stroke his cheekbone. “Want you inside me.” You feel how his cock twitches underneath you from your confession.

“You sure mesh’la?” He asks, placing his hand under your chin to gently holding your head up as he look deeply you in the eyes for your answer.

“Very.”

“Okay.” He hums, pressing a gentle kiss onto your lips, but it very quickly turns heated.

Your hands reach down between you, finding the buttons of his pants which you quickly begin to unbutton. The angle is slightly awkward, but you manage to get the last button undone without breaking the kiss.

Din taps your thigh to make you step back for a second so he can pull down his pants and free his cock. Your eyes widen at the sight. You had gotten the idea that he was big from what you had felt when you grinded against his bulge, but nothing could prepare you for the view that met you. He is big. His cock is throbbing and thick, laying heavy against his stomach, the tip is already dripping with precum and you feel your mouth water by the sight.

You slide your panties to the side as you readjust yourself, and start to slowly sink down on him. You’re really taking your time, both so you can adjust to the imposing size of him, and so you can enjoy the sounds he’s making for you as you slowly take more and more of him, until you finally are taken the entirety of him.

“You are so perfect…” He sights. “Cyar'ika you have no idea…” He adds before he starts on leaving hot kisses up and down your neck.

‘Cyar'ika.’ Another word you don’t know the meaning of, but you are too far gone in your shared pleasure to stop up and ask him the meaning.

The two of you sit like this for a little while, letting you adjust to him, but you soon can’t take it anymore, you need some movement.

You lift yourself a little from the chair before sinking back down on him, making Din choke on a throaty moan. His hands stay on your hips, as you begin to bounce on him in a slow, but steady rhythm, but he occasionally slips them down to your ass, squeezing the soft plum skin with his broad hands. It makes you go wild. You pick up your pace.

“Dear, Maker…” You gasp “Din, you’re feeling so good.”

“You too, mesh’la. So fucking tight.” Din praises, lifting you up with his strong arms and pulls all the way out of you before slamming back into you, filling you up again. “So warm, so perfect.”

His hips now meet yours with every bounce as he thrust up into you, burying himself so deep inside you it has you bite down hard on your lower lip to not scream loudly and wake up Grogu. The sound of Din’s heavy balls slapping up against your wet cunt, as well as the loud creaks of the chair, is echoing from the walls and it is honestly the hottest thing you have ever heard. Your arms have begun to shake as your grip on the armrest of the chair is getting tighter and tighter. You keep bouncing up and down on him as you feel your second climax getting nearer and nearer.

“Oh, kriff… Mesh’la you’re so tight.” He groans through gritted teeth.

“I… I won’t last much longer.” He warns. His thrust falters a little as he gets closer and closer to his release.

“It’s okay, you can come, baby…” You pant out. “Please come for me, Din”

He let out a throaty groan at your encouragement.

“I have an implant.” You add. “Please, I want to feel you inside of me.”

You pull his face up to you, kissing him hard. Your lips connected passionately as you both get pushed over the edge. His fingers dig into your hips as he comes, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer.

You moan out his name, as your walls clench down around his cock. You feel how his dick twitches inside you as he comes undone. The warmth of his release coats your inside, and you dote on the feeling of being filled by him, milking every drop of his release as he keeps pumping into you, fucking his cum deep into you. You feel like the two of you have melted together as you both ride out your climaxes. Tears of pleasure are wetting your eyes. You have wanted him for so long, never thought that you would have him, never thought that he would feel the same as you.

You find his lips again, kissing him as you both ride out your climaxes. He hums content into your mouth and you can feel the smile on his lips. His hands are leaving your waist and he is instead cupping your cheeks, gently holding your face and the rough and heated atmosphere is soon turning soft.

“Are you okay?” He asks while caressing your cheek with light strokes of his finger pads.

“Yes.” You assure him with a small smile. “More than okay.”

He smiles back at you. He has the prettiest smile in the galaxy you decide. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, mesh’la.”

You don’t know the meaning of his words, but they fall from his lips with such warmth and care that you it has your heart flutter with warmth in your chest.

“What does that mean?” Your voice is nothing but a whisper.

“I will know you forever.”

“That is beautiful.”

“It’s…” He looks into your eyes, the deep mahogany of his irises make your heart clench. You can’t believe that these are the eyes that has been looking at you from under the helmet all this time. “It’s how we tell people we love them.”

“It is…?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I love you, mesh’la.”

He loves you… Din Djarin loves you.

“I love you too, Din.” You say before connecting your lips again in a long passionate kiss. “You and Grogu.” You add when you eventually have to pull away for air.

He smiles at you as his eyes are filling with grateful tears. You, Din and Grogu – a little clan of three.

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absurdthirst · 6 months

Text

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

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6.1k

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

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

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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

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|| MasterList || The Mandalorian MasterList ||

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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atyourmerci · 7 months

Text

✩Your Galaxy✩

✩ ✩

Abby Anderson / Mandolorian AU

Summary: Abby as a Mandolorian. No specific relationship to reader yet (will obv get into if this turns into a fic).

Warnings: smut, MDNI, some fluff holy fuck Madda wrote fluff?? Fingering, cunnilingus, switch!abby, switch!reader, cannon typical violence, no y/n, only description of reader is having hair, making up shit about space and Star Wars uni that I don’t know!!!it’s fine!!!

A/N: hey babies, so I’ve been sittingggg on this idea for a sec and idk if it will gel with you guys so pls lmk if this would be something you’re interested in. I guess this is a blurb?? If you wanna see it turn into a fic pls let me know:))

✩ ✩

Mando!abby who takes off her gloves so she can feel how wet you really are, even when you promise her.

Mando!abby who let’s you trace your fingers along her face in the darkness of the night so you can imagine what she truly looks like. The first time you weren’t expecting her vulnerability, she had just fucked you senseless as you laid there heaving when she pulled your shaky fingertips to her defined face, allowing you to let them roam freely.

Mando!abby who took her helmet off for the first time when you were laid inbetween her thighs, lapping at her swollen clit. She wanted you to hear her pathetic whimpers that no one else had. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly when you heard the rustling of the helmet come off, but she trusted you… “k- keep going baby I- jus’ wanna watch you”

Mando!abby who couldn’t help but to admit her real name with you as she had you bent over her bed, helmet off heavy breathed over the shell of your ear, driving her soaked fingers into your needy cunt. “F-fuck Mando…” you pathetically breathe out, muffled by the thin white fabric of her bed. “Abby,” Mando remarked flatly. It took you aback at the unrecognizable name, your body froze as your mind raced, did she call you the wr- “call me abby,” she corrects herself. A guttural breath you didn’t notice you were holding escapes your lips. Abby…Abby. A delicate name for the otherwise ruthless murderer. The name swirled aimlessly in your mind over and over again…abby.

Mando!abby who’s secret you knew. She was able to go unrecognized as a woman in her field, tweaking her modulator so her voice came out husky, her build making her larger and more threatening than any other mandolorian you had seen before. She didn’t want them to treat her differently, think less of her ability. You accidentally stumbled upon her well held secret when she came back to the ship with a gash across her abdomen. She tried hiding it from you, but it came up so close on her chest you unknowingly forced it out of her. You froze at the sight of her black bra peeking under her tunic, cheeks flushed. “Don’t say a fucking word,” she bit under her breath. You internally pulled yourself together with your new found information on the mysterious killer, wild eyed averting your gaze back to her cover eyes, eyes that you’ll never see. “Okay.” You said with an attempt at confidence. An attempt at reassurance. She had no reason to trust your word, but she did.

Mando!abby who insists on showering your body even if the lights are on. A stupid fucking ship. If the shower was running the lights had to be on. This was an automatic off zone for you when things started with you and abby. Not only could you see her face, but her entire body would be revealed to you in the intimate space of the well-lit shower. Her body that you had only seen bits and pieces of in desperate, heavy breathed moments, but never her face. But when you had returned from a rather brutal hunt, blood caked in your hair, she insisted to clean you off. “B-but abby-“ before you can protest she began removing your blood soaked clothing out of your sight behind you, “just close your eyes, I’ll stand behind you. I’m not leaving you by yourself for another moment,” the tang of her sweet voice fluttered your ears, unmarked by the hardness of the modulated voice of her visor.

Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed

#abby anderson #the last of us #abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #the mandolarian #mando fanfiction #mando smut #abby anderson tlou2 #sub abby #abby angst

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pedrito-friskito · 2 years

Note

hey kay bb!! hope you're doing well 💖

mando has been on the brain lately so i'm requesting fluffy smut with him pls 🥺😫 (the yearning is *extra* today)

niiiiiiiiik my darling my dear hope you are also well 💗

ok…this got away from me. I blinked and suddenly a plot! exposition! SMUT! (multiple scenes at that) all the things. I’m a slut for Din Djarin and it really jumped out on this one.

(smut below the cut, a full plot, the helmet comes off, a bit of inexperienced!din, reader is kind of a bad ass, descriptions of bodies, unprotected p-in-v sex - wrap ur shit even if ur in space ok)

sleepover saturday

uncharted territory

(word count 9.1k - it REALLY got away from me okay)

gif by @aceofwhump

Then you are a Mandalorian no more.

Din Djarin aches in a way he has never felt before, much more powerful than any injury he could ever sustain. His Creed, demolished. His son, gone. His life, upended. As he staggers out of the Covert, trying to think of where to go next, he cannot shake the feeling of lost that settles around his shoulders like a cloak.

Maybe coming to Glavis was a mistake; maybe he should have stayed back on Nevarro, kept taking jobs from Karga until he finally had enough credits to take the old man’s advice, get himself a camtono full of spice and disappear into the Twi’lek healing baths until he forgot the whole thing.

The truth of it? He knew he could never forget. There wasn’t enough spice in the galaxy to help him forget it all. It wasn’t possible. And the larger part was that Din didn’t want to forget.

His leg aches as he walks. The bacta Paz had sprayed him down with had helped some, but the ache runs deep, and the drills the Armourer had forced him to run with the Darksaber had only made matters worse. He should find a place to lie down, to hide for the night before he decides what he plans to do next, where he plans to go.

Where will he go?

You are a Mandalorian no more.

The echo of the words make his head split, and for a moment, he has half a mind to wrench the helmet off, to launch it off the ring, let space swallow the beskar whole. But he stops himself; it feels as though his armour is all he has left.

His armour, and the Darksaber. The right to the throne of Mandalore.

Maker, he can’t think straight. The ache only worsens, his limp more prominent, and it gets to the point where he can take no more. He falls onto the nearest crate, his injured leg stuck straight out in front of him. His body feels twice as heavy, his head even more so, and he tips it back against the wall to lighten the load. He’ll rest just a moment, he’ll just shut his eyes for one—

“Mando?”

Din pulls his blaster from his holster as his eyes shoot open. There’s the sound of shuffled steps, something metallic hitting the floor, a murmured dank farrik! He hits a button on his vambrace, turns off the thermal setting on his visor.

“Sweets?”

You look exactly the same as he remembers. It’s been ages, but he could never forget your face. He knows what’s underneath your clothes, too, and the memory speeds to the surface of his mind faster than a pod-racer.

Before he had an in with Peli on Tatooine, the Razor Crest routinely parked and tuned up in Hangar 3-5, he had you. You were well-known within the Guild, had more than a few contracts with different gangs and hunters in the galaxy. If something on a ship broke, you were the one to fix it, and you had enough heavily-armed thugs on your side to make anyone think twice about trying to mess with you.

Some called you the Mechanic, simple and descriptive. Others, those you let a little closer, knew you as Sweets, a moniker earned by your penchant for candies and treats. You’d let your favoured clients off easy if they were short a few credits, but had something sweet from the far reaches of the galaxy to offer in lieu of the missing cash.

Din knew he was one of your favoured clients, perhaps your favourite. Or, had been. You’d crowed endlessly about the Crest, desperate to get your hands on it any time he hauled it in for service, whether it actually needed it or not. Sometimes he genuinely needed something fixed, some times he’d found some candy or sweet in a far off corner of the galaxy that he’d brought back just for you.

Other times, he just wanted to see you.

You were sweet in other ways, too. He knew first-hand. And he knew he was the only client you let into your bed. He’d been drawn to you the first time you’d been introduced — a common contact between you and Din sent him your way when the Crest was in serious need of a tune-up, and you were the closest mechanic he could get to without doing more damage to the ship.

Your knowledge astounded him, to start. You were barely into a diagnostic and you knew exactly what needed to be fixed, what parts you had and didn’t, how many credits it was going to cost him. And you hadn’t even set foot on the ship yet. Your competency drove him wild, only spurred on when he brought you aboard the Crest to give the interior a once-over, eager to see if he’d kept everything original, or if you had any modifications to offer that he might be interested in. Din followed you around the ship silently, answering whatever questions you had, mostly just watching you work. It was intriguing beyond belief.

“That’s not much of a bed,” you’d commented, cocking your head to the side when you hit the button that opened the bunk. “When’s the last time you had a new mattress?”

He just shrugged.

“One thing you should know,” you said over your shoulder, descending the Crest’s ramp, heading back towards the entrance to your shop. “I don’t use droids.”

Din nearly fell over. “That’s not a problem.”

“Good,” you replied, tapping at your data pad, your brow scrunching. “It’ll take longer than your usual hangar; I do everything myself.”

“I’m happy to wait,” he said, dipping his helmet, thankful it was hiding the way he was raking his eyes over you. I don’t use droids. Had someone made you in a lab somewhere, on some backwater planet, just for him? “I know she’s in good hands.”

The grin you’d offered him was sweeter than anything he’d ever seen, and you shooed him out a moment later, muttering something about getting back to work.

When he returned three days later to retrieve his ship, he almost didn’t recognize it. You’d repainted most of the outside panels, replaced all the ones that were missing, and the engines were so shiny Din could see his helmet reflected in them. Inside the Crest was another story; you’d outfitted him with a carbonite cell system, top of the line and primed for use. That meant no more mouthy bounties, no more wasting durasteel cuffs and gags when he could just hit a button and have a quiet ride back to the Guild.

And in the bunk, a new mattress, complete with a pillow, and bolted on the wall, a mount for his helmet.

“You don’t sleep with that thing on, do you?”

“The carbonite system,” he nearly sputtered, rubbing a gloved hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t have the credits, I didn’t—”

You poked the toe of his boot with your own. “Call it a gift, Mando. Let’s just say I shouldn’t have had the thing hanging around to begin with.”

“Is that gonna cause me any problems?”

“Nope,” you replied, popping the p. “Wiped all the identification numbers from the system. No one will know where it came from. Except you.”

He stared at you a long moment. “Except me.”

He was sure to pay you in full, plus the candied flowers he’d found at one of the vendors in the markets. You’d smiled again at that, and while Din committed the sight to memory, he also promised himself that he wouldn’t let it be long before he saw your smile again.

And he kept that promise. The next time he landed the Crest in your hangar, it wasn’t because he needed a tune-up or new parts. He’d struck gold at a black market on Coruscant; his bounty had lead him into the belly of a sweet shop, and after the Gungan had been dealt with, Din did some hunting of his own. He took as many boxes as he could carry, trying to take one of each flavour, a few extra of the ones he’d seen on the shelf in your shop.

“What in Maker’s name are you doing here?” you’d called as soon as he landed, stepping out of the shop and into the hangar, your hands on your hips, cocked to one side. “You ruin my handiwork that fast?”

“Not exactly,” he’d replied, walking down the ramp, his arms laden with goodies. Your eyes had gone huge. “I come bearing gifts.”

“For me?” you cried, gasping as you took the boxes from him, tongue poking between your teeth. “Mandalorian, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

He’d never been so grateful for his helmet at that exact moment. He might have crumbled to dust if you’d seen how red his cheeks were. “I-I owed you,” he stuttered out, “for the carbonite.”

“You didn’t owe me anything,” you quipped, swaying from side to side on your feet, staring down at your treats. “I told you, it was a gift.” You gave him one of those smiles again, and Din felt his stomach twist at the glitter in your eyes. “Why don’t you stay a while? I’ll feed you and everything.”

You disappeared into the shop, and Din paused a moment before following.

He saw you disappear behind a dark curtain that had definitely seen better days, and Din followed your further to discover there was an apartment of sorts attached to the shop. Apartment was perhaps too kind a word; it was one large room, a kitchen to one side, a large futon spread in the middle. Trunks and boxes and crates stacked along the far wall, a few grease-stained jumpsuits littering the floor. You stumbled over your feet trying to pick them up, tossing the offending fabric into a nearby crate, before you turned back to him. “What are you hungry for?”

You served him first. Noodles with dark sauce and some kind of shredded meat you thought was bantha but weren’t quite sure. But, as you stated with a shrug, “it’s good, and it hasn’t killed me yet.” After you slid the bowl across the table to him, you turned back to the stove and stayed that way. After a moment, Din wasn’t sure what to do, but then your head turned slightly, your eyes trained directly to the left, not wandering towards him over your shoulder. “I won’t look. Swear.”

He lifted the helmet just enough to shovel the food into his mouth. You were right, the mystery meat was good, and the sauce you’d made to go with it was even better. He nearly inhaled the food, not wanting to keep you too long, and when the helmet slid back down, the mechanism hissing back into place, your head turned again, still not looking at him.

“You’re safe,” he said, sliding his empty bowl back across the table.

You turned fully, serving yourself, and he expected you to sit across from him, keeping a bit of distance between you, but instead, you rounded the table and plunked yourself down on the stool right beside him. You ate much slower than he had, and Din let his eyes graze over you. The streak of engine grease on your cheek, the scar that split your lower lip, the intricately messy way you wore your hair. A silver chain sat around your throat, strung with a tiny silver ring. It disappeared down the front of your shirt most of the time, but right then it sat awkwardly, the chain caught on your collar, the ring sitting in the hollow of your throat. He resisted the urge to reach out and fix it.

The jumpsuit you wore was nearly identical to the ones you’d hurriedly swiped off the floor. Torn on one knee, zipper unfurling beneath your chest, a symbol he didn’t recognize patched onto your thigh. You’d tied the sleeves around your waist like a belt, a dirty rag tucked in at your hip. The Mechanic, herself. Sweets.

He thought you were beautiful. He had a feeling you’d look beautiful in anything.

Or nothing.

Din was distracted by your thumb at your lips, swiping a drop of sauce from your chin and sucking your finger into your mouth. His flight-suit was tight beneath his beskar to begin with, and you weren’t helping matters. “So,” you said simply, reaching for your food again. “Tell me a story, Mando. A good one. Best bounty you ever caught.”

The conversation filtered between you two easily. You were a good listener, easy to talk to, and Din felt like he couldn’t stop talking to you, telling you about his first kill, his first bounty. His first ship, before the Crest. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you about the before, before the Guild, before he was just the Mandalorian, when he was just Din Djarin. A foundling. Part of him wondered what you think, what your reaction might be to his past, but a larger part forced his mouth shut.

At some point, he turned himself towards you on his stool, one arm braced on the table, the other resting on his thigh. After you finished your food, you leaned heavily on the table, your head pushed into your palm, legs crossed at your ankles, swinging slowly, the toe of your boot tapping his shin every once in a while.

He could see you were tired, the way you started covering your yawns and rubbing at your eyes. “I should go,” he said, starting to get to his feet. “You’re tired, and I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Your hand flashed out quick — not quick enough to startle him, though — and wrapped around his wrist. You’d managed to wedge your fingers right into the space where his glove met his vambrace, and he felt you against his pulse, against his bare skin. “You don’t have to leave, Mando.”

Din. He wanted to tell you. My name is Din.

Slowly, his own hand reached out, hovering in the air, shaking more than a vibroblade. He saw your eyes trace its path, watching until it lowered, dropped until the flat of his palm met the curve of your thigh. His gloved fingers wrapped around the meat of your leg, his thumb pressing towards the inside.

He heard you gasp.

He moved forward an inch, and his hand moved higher, thumb riding the seam of your jumpsuit. You hummed, fingered squeezing around his wrist, and Din moved closer, until he had one leg between yours. He let his hand wander higher, listening carefully to the changes in your breathing, the hitch in your throat. The heat between your legs was almost stifling, and something feral in the back of his brain screamed for more.

Whatever snapped in him, it seemed to break in you at exactly the same time. You both shot to your feet together, and Din’s hands moved to your waist, to where your sleeves were knotted at your waist. Yours roamed his chest plate, fingers tapping along beskar until you hooked them in his cloak. He halted his own hands, ready to help you remove the fabric, but you handled it just fine on your own, finding the hidden snaps with ease.

His blood turned to flame when he felt your fingers along his throat, seeking his pulse in another spot. “You should stay,” you breathed out, your voice barely above a murmur. “Please, Mando, I want you to stay.”

He forced himself to nod, his mind now preoccupied with ripping his gloves from his hands. He needed to feel you, no barriers in between.

He needed to see you, something in him screamed, no barriers in between.

He silenced that voice before it could spur him further. Busied himself with diving his hand beneath the waist of the jumpsuit, the broken zipper catching on his wrist. You were even hotter beneath, and he sucked down a breath when he found you wet, slick coating his fingers.

Your body leaned into him, chasing his touches, and he hooked his other hand around your thigh, lifting you up and backwards onto the table. He could feel you watching, your eyes moving from his helmet down his front, to where his hand was jammed beneath the jumpsuit. He crooked one finger, testing, pressing it into you, and grinned beneath his helmet when you moaned.

Din hooked his arm under your waist, lifting you just enough that he could maneuver the jumpsuit over your hips, down your legs. His cock jolted between his legs at the sight of you bare, leaned back on the table, your chest heaving. Even though the visor, he could see how slick you were, the evidence shining on the insides of your thighs.

He wanted to taste you.

He pushed the thought away again. Another time, when he wasn’t smearing the inside of his flight-suit with precum, when you weren’t keening into his touch as he dragged his fingers against the sensitive skin between your legs, when he could turn the lights off and shed his armour, bare himself to you the same way.

You moaned again when his fingers found your clit, drawing a sloppy circle that had your muscles tensing against his hand, knees closing against his hips. “F-fuck, Mando,” you ground out, tipping your head back on your shoulders. “You’re good with those hands.” Another stuttered breath as he twisted his wrist, curling two fingers just inside your entrance, thumb stretching up to swipe over your clit. “Really good.”

He was grinning beneath the helmet again, eyes glued to your face as he pressed further, fingers threading deeper into you. He could feel everything, the twitch of your thighs, the clench of your cunt. You reached out with one hand, using the other to balance yourself, and closed it around his elbow, your fingers digging into the thick fabric so hard he was shocked your nails didn’t bite right through.

“How do you like it, Sweets?” he asked, leaning forward until he was nearly hovering over you. Your hand moved from his elbow to chest, fingers hooked in his armour. “Tell me what you need.”

Your hand moved again, this time moving straight down his front, past his waist, right between his legs. His cock throbbed as you palmed him, a cat-like grin on your lips as you tilted your head level with the visor. You leaned up slightly, pressed your lips to the beskar edge that mirrored his jaw. Another squeeze, and the slow pace of his fingers faltered, his head nearly smacking into yours. “I need this.”

Din couldn’t hold back anymore. Something in the way you stared up at him, eyes tracing over the helmet, told him you didn’t want him to.

“I like it rough.”

It all happened in one fluid motion. He pulled you closer, right off the edge of the table, and you spun in his grip, leaning forward over the table, planting your hands flat. The jumpsuit slid further towards your ankles and you arched your back, your ass grinding against his hardness, and Din groaned audibly, tilting his head towards the ceiling. Your legs spread as much as the jumpsuit would allow, and Din worked his own zipper down, freeing himself from the flight-suit. You made the most delicious noise as the tip of his cock smacked against your ass, the tip dripping with precum.

Your head turned as he took himself in hand, tapping your ass with his cock again. “Maker,” you breathed out, your eyes widening. “I knew you’d be big.”

Beneath the helmet, Din turned crimson.

He planted his other hand between your shoulders, tipping you forward. You went willingly, eyes rolling back as he pushed his hips against your ass. He could see how wet you were as you bent, slick still dripping down your thighs.

There was nothing stopping him from dropping to his knees right then and there, lifting the helmet just enough to drag his tongue through your cunt. The thought alone made his cock pulse.

But then your hand reached back, twisting in the fabric covering his hip, and he couldn’t wait any longer. He bent his knees slightly, notching himself at your entrance, and pushed inside.

The noise you let out was nearly enough to make him cum right then and there. He knew he wasn’t gonna last, and judging by the sounds you continued to make and the way you were bearing down on him, hands clenched into fists on the tabletop, he didn’t think you were either. He set a fast pace, the space filling with the slick sound of him driving in and out of you, your moans echoing each move. Din’s gaze dropped, trained on the sight of his cock disappearing to you. Your hand flapped at his hip, scrabbling for purchase, and he wrapped his fingers around your forearm, groaning when you did the same.

He was right; you didn’t last long, and neither did he. Your entire body clenched as you came, one hand slamming against the table, nails digging deep into his wrist. It spurred his own orgasm, that coil at the base of his spine snapping, and he pulled out, cumming hard across the curve of your ass.

Silence settled over the both of you as you caught your breath. Din couldn’t help himself, rubbing his bare fingers over the expanse of your back, tracing over your spine. You arched a bit into his touch, making a satisfied noise before you lifted yourself off the table. You turned to him, leaned up to press a hot kiss to his bare throat. It made him shiver.

“Think we could do that again?” you murmured, lifting a finger and dragging it along the edge of his helmet. “Maybe you take all the metal off.”

Din cleared his throat, trying to ignore the way his cock twitched, already wanting a second round. “Helmet stays on.”

You stared at him a long moment, smile on your lips. “Helmet stays on.”

He kept close to you after that night. He rarely took bounties that took him to further reaches of the galaxy, loathe to admit that he was always within a few parsecs of your hangar. He brought you a long-distance commlink so he could tell you when he was coming back, so you could contact him if you ever needed him. He didn’t worry about you, per se; you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, and he knew for a fact you knew how to shoot the blaster you kept holstered on your thigh when he wasn’t around.

But then the comm went quiet. He called, you didn’t answer. A lead weight formed in his stomach, and he pushed the Crest’s engines are fast as they’d go. Carefully, though — he wouldn’t dare ruin any of your handiwork.

When he landed in the hangar, the lights were all off. It didn’t help his worry, and it only grew worse as he sprinted off the Crest, heading straight for the shop door.

It was locked, but the lock was no match for his vibroblade and a bit of brute force. Inside, the space was empty. no trace of you left inside. There was no sign of a struggle, no blood smeared on the floor or the wall, but it didn’t ease his mind any. What if someone had come for you, spirited you away in the dead of night to some backwater planet? Dank farrik, what if someone had put out a bounty on you? His mind reeled, raced, chewed him up and spit him out.

He never meant to get so attached to you.

Din switched the settings on his visor, finally determining that all the footprints he could make out on the floor were your own. Then he saw it, sitting on the edge of one of the shelves in the kitchen. The commlink, perched precariously, just enough out of sight that no one else would think twice, but not Din.

He thumbed through the screen, saw the icon flashing with a recorded message. Your face lit up the screen instantly, and he stifled the way his stomach clenched. You looked…scared. Not hurt, not injured, but scared.

“Someone sold me out,” you said, your voice distorted and warped. “I can’t give you details. I can’t really tell you anything. Just know I’m going somewhere safe, and I’ll miss you, Mandalorian. Take care of yourself.”

Your eye were shiny as you reached out to cut the recording, and Din’s heart sank into his toes.

He put the commlink in his pocket, and returned to his ship.

He’d watched the message so many times the words were engraved into his brain. The change in your voice, the way you’d blinked harder the more you spoke. The way you paused in the middle, glanced over your shoulder with a shock of fear in your eyes.

And now here you are, standing in front of him, a pile of metal spilling out of a crate tucked beneath your arm, that same streak of fear in those big eyes. Eyes that have haunted him all these years. You nearly drop the crate as you crouch, your gaze zeroing in on the wound on his leg. “Maker, Mando, what the hell did you do?”

“Long story,” he groans out, wincing as you adjust his leg slightly, leaning to the side so you can get a better look. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” you reply, getting back to your feet, retrieving your crate of parts. “C’mon, let me clean you up. You look like hell.”

Din goes willingly, not sure what else to do, his mind racing from the combination of the Covert and you appearing out of nowhere. He lets you pull him slowly to his feet, tuck yourself under his arm. “Sweets,” he starts to protest, but you drag his arm around your shoulders.

“Shush,” you whisper, glancing around as you start to lead him in the opposite direction he’d been going. “Lean your weight on me.” He does as you say, nearly crumbling with relief. “There you go.”

The ache only worsens as you go, Din resisting the urge to lean his head against yours. When you finally turn him towards the door, he thinks he may topple over completely, but you’re quicker, producing a remote from your pocket. The door slides open, revealing the inside of a hangar, and you all but carry him through, discarding the crate of parts the moment you’re through, hitting the button again once you’re inside. The door slides shut, and Din lifts his head enough to look around. It looks nearly identical to your old hangar.

Then he hears a curious little beep, and looks down to see a tiny droid scurrying towards you. A BD-1 unit; he recognizes it from Peli’s, though yours is a little more rusty around the edges, the cleaner bits of metal painted grey and yellow. “Not now, Shrimp,” you grit, waving at the droid. It beeps loudly back at you, like an arguing child, and Din stifles his laugh.

“I thought you didn’t use droids,” he mumbles.

“He came with the hangar,” you reply, moving him across the hangar. Shrimp follows a few more steps before darting off, disappearing into a pile of crates. “Couldn’t bring myself to scrap him. Besides, not like he’s much help; tiny thing can’t even lift a socket wrench.”

He laughs out loud this time, and when you pull him into the shop, he laughs again, despite himself.

There’s a shelf of sweets above the workbench.

There’s no curtain between the shop and the apartment, instead another sliding door, another remote. Din lets out a low hum when he sees the apartment beyond. More than one room, furnished with actual furniture. It’s…nice. It’s really nice.

You deposit him on the couch, propping his leg up on the table in front of it. “Wait here,” you mumble, pointing a finger at him before disappearing into another room.

He doesn’t move, but hooks his fingers into the edge of his helmet and yanks it off, depositing it on the couch beside him. He sucks down a breath of unfiltered air.

You gasp as you walk back into the room, nearly dropping the silver case in your hand. “Mando, you—”

“Din,” he says instantly, reaching down, tugging his gloves off, tossing them onto the helmet. “My name is Din Djarin.”

“Din,” you repeat, slowly, like you’re tasting his name on your tongue. The corner of your mouth quirks. “Din…Djarin.”

He just nods. You approach him carefully, like you’re walking towards an injured animal instead of a man, the silver case clutched against your chest.

“Your helmet,” you start, gesturing vaguely. A memory sparks. He told you before — not in so many words — about his Creed, his upbringing. You’d asked, and he’d answered. It wasn’t information he gave willingly. The second time he had you, when you were sprawled out completely naked on that old futon, writhing and moaning beneath him, when he’d shed almost all his beskar, felt the warmth of your body pressed up against all of him. Afterward, when you’d both been sated for the time being, you’d peered up at him from your place on his chest. “Do you ever take it off?” you asked, your voice laced with sleep.

And he’d answered.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says now, eyes darting towards the curve of silver. “I’m not a Mandalorian anymore.”

“What?” you ask, your brow furrowing. He wants to reach out, let his thumb ride the space between your eyebrows, feel it smooth over as he kisses the spot. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” He trails off. Loaded question. What does it mean? Truly? “My name is Din Djarin.”

There’s still confusion etched into your features, but you don’t question him further. Your brow doesn’t loosen, and you perch on the table.

“What’s in the case?” he asks, jutting his chin towards the silver case still in your hands.

You look at him for a long moment, eyes sweeping over his face, over his features. Like you’re committing him to memory. He’s doing the same, almost scrutinizing your face, trying to remember what it looks like without the filter of his visor, what you truly look like, with no barriers in between.

He could taste you easily now.

The thought catches him off guard, the throb between his legs a welcome change to the pulsing of the wound on his thigh. The bacta the Covert had given him has worn off almost completely, and the pain is climbing.

“B-bacta shot,” you stutter out, shaking your head slightly as you flipped open the case. Your eyes moved to the wound on his leg, peering at the plates of beskar, the flight-suit, the discarded helmet on the couch. “That needs to be cleaned.”

Din just nods.

“Think you can walk to the bedroom?” you ask, shoving the silver case into the chest pocket of your jumpsuit. He recognizes it — the tear in the knee, the patch on your thigh. You fixed the zipper. “It’ll be easier.”

It’s slow-going, getting him back to his feet, shuffling carefully to the bedroom. You ask him if he wants to bring the helmet; he just shakes his head.

What does that mean?

Your bed is unmade, but Din barely notices. The scent of you is amplified in here, and he’s sucking down breaths like he’s been deprived of oxygen. You help him lower to the edge of the bed, and he starts on the armour. You sink to your knees in front of him, setting the bacta shot on the mattress beside him. He removes a pauldron with shaking fingers, and you’re right there to take it from him, your movements sure, setting the metal carefully onto the floor, waiting for the next piece.

“You disappeared,” he says, after more pieces of beskar have been removed, when you’ve moved onto his boots, setting them both carefully at your side.

Your brow had just smoothed out, and it pinches again. “I had to. I left you a message.”

Din pulls the zipper on his flight-suit, reaches into the pocket sewn into the lining, and produces the commlink. “I know.”

Your lips part as you look at the piece of metal, dwarfed by his hand. “You found it.”

“I did.”

Bottom lip caught between your teeth, you look back up at him through your lashes. “It wasn’t safe.”

“You’re safe now,” he says, and you reach for the bacta shot. “Tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” you reply, your voice bordering on stern. “Somebody sold me out.”

“I knew that much,” Din mumbles, and you shoot him a glare.

You sigh. “Let’s just say, there were some parts in the hangar that shouldn’t have been there, someone wasn’t happy with some work I did, and then next thing I knew, there were Imps on my tail. So I disappeared.”

“You could have told me where you were going.”

You shake your head. “They were listening. Tracking every message I sent out. I couldn’t let you get roped into it too.”

“You could have gone to the Guild,” he says. He’s too distracted to notice you pull the syringe out of the case. He doesn’t see the needle until you’re pushing it into his muscle above the wound. He grits his teeth audibly, hands curling hard around the edge of the mattress. “Dank farrik.”

“Sorry.”

“I would have come for you,” he says, breath hitching in his throat as you push the plunger down. It feels like his body has been flooded with ice water, his teeth chattering for a moment before the cold turns to a woozy sort of warmth that spreads through his chest like Corellian fire whiskey. He blinks hard, slow, one eye than the other.

“Can you stand?” He nods. Or thinks he does. “The bacta will help, but I need to put a bandage on that wound, at least.” More nodding. He’s vaguely aware of you draping his arms around your neck, your arms sliding around his waist to haul him up. He plants his feet beneath him, forces his weight over his ankles. His movements are slow, languid, like he’s moving through water. You manoeuvre one arm out of his flight-suit, pushing the fabric down his shoulders, until it settles around his hips. The metallic sound of the zipper seems to echo through his brain, and he knows you’re touching his waist, moving the fabric slowly over his injured thigh. But it doesn’t hurt.

All he can feel is you.

You sit him down again, work on pulling the suit off completely. Your hands are warm, soft, gentle against his bare legs, and he nearly buries his nose in the crown of your head when you bend down. Once the flight-suit has been removed, leaving him in his boxers and undershirt, you disappear again, and Din’s not sure if it’s thirty seconds or thirty minutes.

Something cold presses against his thigh, and he flinches. “Does it hurt?” you ask instantly, and your voice is clear, then muffled, then clear again. “It shouldn’t.”

“Nuh-uh,” he slurs out. He hears you laugh, and the sound is like tinkling bells. He wants to hear it again. “Sweets.”

“Yes, Din?” Clear, muffled. His name is a song on your lips.

“You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“Mesh’la,” he mumbles, and then his eyes fall shut, his body slumps back, and he thinks you laugh again. He’s not quite sure; sleep is too busy yanking him under.

Din wakes to the sound of running water.

He’s disoriented, confused, not sure where he is until he pushes up on his elbows, looks around, drinks in the sight of your bedroom. The memory floods back; the Covert, then the hangar, taking the helmet off, the bacta shot that knocked him out.

But more importantly: you.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes. How long was he out? He can’t be sure; there’s a window on the far side of the room, but time on Glavis is different, artificial nighttime and starlight instead of sun. His armour has been moved from the floor, neatly piled on a dresser against the wall, his boots on the floor underneath. His flight-suit is spread out on a worktable in the middle of the room, and he can see from his spot that you’ve tried to mend it, patching the spot the Darksaber had cut open with a square of fabric. It’s looks to be the same kind of material, but the colour is darker. Beneath the sheets, his leg is wrapped in cotton bandages, and there’s no sign of blood seeping to the surface.

His head turns in the direction of the noise of the water, and he pauses, waits for some kind of pain to prick through his body, but it never comes. He feels…good. Well-rested. His eyes follow the sound, and then he sees it.

The door to your bathroom is wide open, and from his spot on your bed, he can see directly into the shower. You’re inside, steam pouring over the top of the glass wall, and Din’s whole body jerks. He never forgot what you looked like naked, and it’s been a long time, but somehow it still feels like the first time. He can feel the blood rushing south, and his hands clench in the bedsheets.

He just stares, watching the water move over you, cascading down your spine, rolling in rivulets over your curves, following the lines of your body. He wants to follow them too, wants to read you like a map only he knows the key to.

Dank farrik, he’s missed you. He hadn’t realized how much.

The water shuts off, and he sees you reach for a towel, wiping your face first. He sinks back down on the bed, wondering if he should feign sleep, feeling like a kid caught doing something he’s not supposed to. But before he can— “You’re awake,” he hears you call, and looks back just as you wrap the towel around your middle. “I thought you’d be out for the night.”

Din coughs, shifting the blankets, trying to hide the tent that’s formed in his boxers. “You don’t close the door?” He doesn’t know what else to say.

You laugh. “I live alone,” you say, stepping out of the bathroom, walking towards the dresser his armour sits upon. “Force of habit.”

He clears his throat. Loudly. Pauses. “…it’s a nice view.”

Your tongue peeks between your lips as you walk over to him, still in just the towel. Your hair is still dripping, water droplets dotting your shoulders. You sink slowly onto the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

“G-good,” he spits out, adjusting himself, making more room for you. “Really good.”

The corner of your mouth quirks. “I’m glad. You scared me, Man—” You catch yourself. “Din.”

A drop of water splashes down from your hair, starts a path down your upper arm, and Din reaches out, catching it on his finger. You watch his hand, lips softly parted, and he continues the path, drawing his hand up and down your skin, the backs of his knuckles against your bicep.

“I wondered where you were, all these years,” you whisper. There’s longing in your voice, he notices; the same feeling sits like a weight on his chest. “I never stopped wondering.”

“I’ll tell you sometime,” he whispers back. There’s something forming in the air between you, thick like the steam that still foams from the open bathroom. Din can almost taste it, and the thought he’d had in your living room resurfaces, making him twitch beneath the sheets. He could taste you so easily now. “It’s a long story.”

The corner of your mouth quirks. “I got nothing but time.”

So does he, he realizes. He’s without a ship, without his son, without anything anchoring him to one planet or another, to any sort of path. He’d been wandering already, trying to find the Covert, and now he is unmoored once more, yet somehow managed to find his way back to your hangar.

To your bed.

His hand stops chasing water droplets, and he sees your teeth sink into your lower lip. He lowers his palm until it rests on your bare thigh, and he can feel how your skin is still hot from the shower. “I never kissed you,” he rasps. “Before.”

Your head shakes slowly, and you turn towards him more fully. The towel is loose around your chest, your hand holding it in place, and he reaches for it, slowly uncurling your fingers from the fabric, until your grip falls slack, and the towel goes with it. “You should fix that,” you murmur.

“I’m out of practice.”

Your lips twitch again. “How bad?”

“Few decades,” he says softly. “Since before I swore the Creed.”

“You were a child.”

“It was a childish kiss.” He pauses, moves his hand again, brushes dripping locks of hair from your face. “I don’t want to kiss you like that.”

“Just…” Din leans in slightly, tilts his head to the side. “Do what feels natural.” You mirror his movement, and his eyes are glued to your mouth, to the way your lips stay parted even when you’re done speaking, the way your collar lifts with shuddered breaths. He sees your hands move the towel out of the corner of his eye, pulling the fabric away from your body completely until you’re bared to him, head to toe.

You’re just as beautiful as he remembers. If not more.

The tip of his nose drags along the slope of yours, and his hand slides from your thigh to your hip. “I need you closer, Sweets,” he murmurs, and you nod against him, your foreheads tapping together. There’s a bit of shuffling, the blankets moved back, his tented boxers exposed but barely acknowledged as you climb into his lap. He revels in the way you look above him, your knees pressed either side of his hips. You’re hesitant to lower your weight onto his leg, and he guides you slow, giving you a quiet it’s okay as you settle onto him.

He doesn’t feel any pain; he just feels you.

Once you’re comfortable, your hands clutching at his shoulders, he adjusts his grip on you, palms skimming up your spine, mapping out your ribs and the curve of your ass. You make a quiet noise when he squeezes one cheek, the movement propelling you forward, making your hips roll into his, your core pushed against his hard cock. It makes him hiss with pleasure, and he slides one hand up to your hair, knotting his fingers in it and dragging your mouth down to his.

It’s not artful; he’s sure it doesn’t look pretty from the outside. There’s a lot of teeth and tongue, the fumble of hands as he tries to get you even closer. He’s sure you’ve been kissed better than this, and it makes his cheeks heat, makes him pull away, tucking his chin towards his chest. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Hey,” you say softly, your hands moving to cup his cheeks, tilting his face back up towards you. “It’s okay. Just…follow my lead?” You say it like a question, your thumbs swiping over his face, through the smatter of facial hair along his jaw. “I got you.”

Din nods, lets his lips part as you cock your head to the side, leaning in slow. You kiss his top lip and then his bottom one, giving him just enough teeth that he wants more, wants it harder. He grips your hips as you move, but your kiss stays tender, slow, your tongue a wet heat against his own. He’d dreamed of this, of kissing you, and this one — albeit the second attempt — is everything he ever imagined.

Finally, your mouth grows more insistent. He’s hard as steel between his legs, and he can feel how hot you are, your wetness spreading across his boxers with every roll of your hips. Your mouth is sweet, almost sugary, and he finds himself chuckling against your lips, still trying to get you closer. Your stomach presses to his as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him harder, your tongue licking into his mouth.

“Sweets,” he grinds out when you start pulling at his undershirt, insistent to get it over his head. He lets you, and when you lower your head again, your mouth moves to his throat instead, and it makes him moan. “Mesh’la, wait, please, I need—”

You pull back instantly, your eyes bright with worry. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“I want…” His eyes drop, tracing a path down your body, his throat growing dry when they land on the apex of your thighs, the glistening wetness he knows he’s caused. He lets one hand follow the path his eyes made, rubs his thumb over your clit. Your whole body shivers. “I want to taste you.”

Your eyes go big, pupils blown with lust, and Din uses your momentary shock to his advantage. He’s stronger than you, perks of the bounty hunting lifestyle, and he flips you easily with one arm around your waist, his other hand hitching your thigh over his hip. You squeak as your head hits the pillows, clinging to him until you’re laid out beneath him.

It’s his turn to kiss his way down your throat, and he does, laving his tongue against your pulse as he makes his way down your body. He pauses at your chest, moves to the side to close his lips around your nipple. It makes your back arch, a high-pitched noise falling from your mouth, and he grins against you, giving you just the edge of his teeth before he’s wandering across your chest to give the other the same attention.

You’re a writhing mess by the time he’s settled between your thighs. He can’t keep his eyes still, raking over every inch of you, trying to remember every part. He can see the muscles in your legs jump as he traces his fingers over them, the more sensitive parts of your skin making you keen.

With your legs spread, he can see everything, and his mouth waters at the sight of your wet cunt, walls fluttering around nothing as he teases you with his fingers, collecting your wetness on the tips before drawing them to his mouth.

He moans at the taste. Of course, you’re sweet. Deliciously so.

“Din,” you groan out, propping yourself up on your elbows. He can feel you watching, and his gaze flicks up to yours as he drops his jaw, lowers his mouth to you. Your eyes roll back for a moment, one hand moving to knot in his hair, and Din moans into you. His tongue explodes with the taste of you, sending shocks down his spine, making his hips rolls into the mattress, seeking relief.

Just do what feels natural, your words echo in his head. So he does. He licks into you, wide stripes with the flat of his tongue, smaller kitten licks to your clit. He can’t get enough of your taste, hooking his hands around your thighs, pulling himself deeper into you. And you guide him some, your hand in his hair an anchor of sorts, tugging slightly to get him right where you need him, a gasped oh fuck, right there! reaching his ears.

It’s not before long that you’re smacking at his shoulder, muffled moans on your lips with your teeth sunk into your lower one. He detaches from you, gets one more good look and lick in before he’s following your grip, kissing every inch of you he can reach as he makes his way back up your body.

“I need you inside me,” you slur, your hands reaching down, pushing at his boxers. His cock springs up against his stomach and he groans, the sound growing louder when you wrap your fingers around him. “Please, Din, I want to cum on your cock.”

It’s a miracle he doesn’t cum right then and there, hearing your words turn filthy. And filthier still as he hauls himself over you, plants one elbow beside your head, looks between you, reaches down to line himself up and—

Freezes.

He can feel your eyes on his face, features pinched with anticipation. Your hands have found homes along his ribs, fingers tapping out rhythmless patterns. Hips lifting, you must see something in his expression, because you move a hand to his chin, lifting his eyes to yours again. “Din,” you say, and a shiver shoots down his spine again at the way his name sounds on your lips. “It’s okay. We can stop, if you need to.”

“No!” he nearly shouts, and feels himself flush, lowering himself slightly, careful not to drop all his weight on you. “No, that’s not what I…I don’t…”

“Don’t what?” you murmur. Your voice is quiet, understanding. You give a soft laugh. “I know you’re not a virgin, but if you don’t want to, it’s okay, I won’t say any—”

“It’s not that,” he cuts you off, petting his hand over your still-damp hair. “I want to. I want you. It’s just that…” He chews at his lip. “No one’s ever seen my face, while we…when I…”

Realization slides through your features. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have to look,” you say quickly, skimming your knuckles along his cheek. “I can turn over, if you like, if that’s easier than—”

“No,” he says, not a shout this time, but firmer. “I want you to see, Sweets.” He drops his chin, emboldened by your softness, your understanding. He kisses you soundly. “I want to kiss you while you cum.” His words pull a silky noise from your throat.

He breaks the kiss as he takes himself in hand, pushes into your dripping cunt. You’re hot, clenching down on him instantly, arms draped around his neck as he lowers himself further, latches his lips to yours. He hitches one of your legs high on his hip, drives into you deep. He had you close on his tongue already, and he rolls his hips hard, catching something deep inside that makes your entire body seize.

“Yes, Din, please, oh gods, please, please, please,” you’re babbling against his lips, one hand pressed flat between his shoulders, the other knotted in the back of his hair. “Yes!”

Just as he said, he kisses you while you cum. He feels it pulse through your body, your limbs taut and then lax, still holding him close. Your hips chase his, cunt clenching tight as a vice, and Din’s not far behind you, pleasure lighting a fuse down his spine.

You pull your lips from his just as he starts to spill in you. Your hand moves to grip his chin, and you force his gaze to yours. He gasps and your mouth mirrors his, lips parted in a soft o, turning to a grin as he grinds into you, painting your insides as deep as he can go. It feels like an implosion, his bones rattled in his body, but then set on the softest bed of silk as he collapses into your chest. You hold him close, petting one hand through his hair, breathing deep and slow until his own evens out, matches yours, until your heartbeat syncs with his.

“Mesh’la?” he calls after a moment, cheek still pressed to your sternum.

“Yes, Din?” you reply, your voice scratchy as your nails start to drag along his scalp. His eyes are heavy.

“I missed you.”

He can hear the smile in your voice. “I missed you too.”

Din wakes alone in your bed again.

He thinks it’s the next morning — the rest of what he assume to be evening was spent in your bed, both of you naked and wrapped in each other. Again and again and again, he pulled pleasure from your body, let you pull it from his, found your bliss together. By the time you were both too tired to move, sprawled on the mattress, your head on his shoulder, you’d whispered, “You’re a good kisser, Din Djarin.” And then you were asleep, Din not too far behind.

He dresses quickly, boxers pulled back on, undershirt in his hand as he pads out of the room. He finds you standing in the kitchen, a steaming cup of caf in your hands. The droid — Shrimp, he dimly recalls — is perched on the table, beeping out a message to you. You’re nodding along, blowing the steam off the top of your caf, and your eyes flick to him as he steps into the kitchen.

“You know Peli Motto?”

Din’s brow crinkles with confusion. “You know Peli?”

You scoff. “That woman taught me everything I know.”

“You’re joking.”

“Swear on my hangar.”

Din just laughs, walking around the table. He slides an arm around your waist once he’s close enough, leans into kiss the side of your head. You lean into him. “Why are we talking about Peli?”

“She sent me a message,” you say, offering him your caf. He takes a sip, only feeling more confused. “Asking if I had any spare ships laying around my hangar. A replacement for her Mandalorian friend.”

Din balks. He hasn’t told you about the Crest. “Sweets…”

You step away from him, pressing a hand to his chest as your eyes go wide with realization. “Din Djarin, what did you do to that ship?”

“I didn’t—”

“Din.”

“It was Imps,” he says, trying to reach for your hip. “It wasn’t—”

“Where is the Razor Crest?”

He sighs heavily, and reaches out to take the cup of caf from you again. “Now it’s nothing but a scorch mark on the planet Tython. It was the Imps. They took my son.” The words are out before he can stop them.

Your eyes go so wide he’s worried they might pop out of your skull. “Your son?”

“It’s a long story.”

You pluck the caf out of his hands, walk around the table, pull out a chair and sink into it. “I got nothing but time.”

#sleepover saturday #my fics #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #din djarin headcanon #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian headcanon #the mandalorian fanfiction

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chaotic-iguana · 1 year

Note

HI OMG UR FICS ARE INTOXICATING WTH!!!

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

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

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

Enough

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

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

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: none, just a lot of angst and fluff

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

So later that day, after the supply run when you had fed and put Grogu to sleep, he approached you in the cockpit. He shuffled uneasily behind you, shifting his weight from side to side as he waited for you to break the silence. But uncharacteristically, you just continued to stare into hyperspace without a word. When Din cleared his throat, you turned your head his way. But your gaze was flitting around; your hands fiddling nervously in your lap. Why were you apprehensive?

“Are you…” Din swallowed, unsure of how to phrase his question, “okay?” Are we okay?You looked up at him then, your eyes wide with anxiety, before looking down at your lap again. Could you be…scared? Of me?

But then you took a deep breath; the nerves fading from your face and giving way to a look of complete resignation, your shoulders slumping with the weight of inevitability. Your gaze met his visor, and he could see that your fingers were lightly curled into fists.

“I don’t really know how to do this, Mando.” Another deep breath. The colour has faded from your face and suddenly you seemed so small, folded in on yourself, that Din had never had to wrestle harder with his own self-control to stop himself from pulling you into his chest and holding you; comforting you, until you’re back to your bouncy self. “You know that I like most people, right?” He nods; you do seem to like and be liked by most people he’s come across, even the ones he would deem unworthy to so much as look at you.

“I’ve always really enjoyed meeting new people, and making friends. Life is easier when you’ve got people, right?” You’re rambling again, but instead of the usual enthusiasm lacing your tone, crippling worry dripped from your every word. Are you leaving him?

“I think-I know that I like you more than I like everyone else. Anyone else. I like everything about you more than I’ve ever liked about anyone else and I just…” you trailed off, gulping. “It feels like you and Grogu are my family, already. And I guess I just can’t help but wonder if you might want more than this, like I do. I-fuck it-I’m in love with you, Mando.” And then you’re shying away from him again, biting your lip as you search his visor for a reaction.

You’re in love with him? This has to be a joke. Din waited for the catch, standing unmovingly in front of you as if waiting for one of your signature punchlines to come tumbling out of your mouth. When it doesn’t, he just gaped at you, his mind overwhelmed with too many thoughts to even say anything. A part of him had never been happier than this moment right here; never loved you more than right now. But the other, more dominant part of him was practically reprimanding him. And what now, idiot? Profess your undying love to her and subject her to a life as the wife of a bounty hunter? No comfortable homes, no proper vacations or even neighbors. A life on the run. With you, dikuit - a man who has never been loved enough to understand how to reciprocate. There is nothing you can give her. There is nothing you can do.

Din bristled under your gaze, suppressing a wince at the words that came out of his mouth next. “You mean to tell me that you are in love with a man you have never even see the face of? A man who hasn’t even told you his name? Stop lying to yourself. There is no ‘family’. You are the child’s caretaker, and nothing more. It would be best for you not to forget that in the future.” He wanted to slap a hand to his mouth, to bite his tongue - anything, anything not to see the way you wilted in front of him as his words registered. You slumped further in the chair, shoulders curving inwards as you brought your knees to your chest to curl up into a protective position, as if he was hurting you. Frustrated by the fact that he could neither pull you in his arms to comfort you, nor find it in himself to continue spewing bullshit he didn’t mean, Din just turned and walked away. He pretended not to hear the muffled crying echoing through the ship that night.

——————————————————————————————————

That had been three weeks ago. He’d gone for a hunt right after, returning within the week. What he found back at the ship made a part of him wish he wouldn’t have returned at all. Your eyes sat bloodshot on hollow cheeks, sunken in your face as dark blotches formed under them. You were quiet, even with the concerned child - all the singing, humming goneas if it had never been. Grogu kept gesturing to you when he father looked his way, as if asking what was wrong. Din knew what was wrong. He just didn’t know how to fix it. He couldn’t find it in himself to leave you alone again, so he’d been mumbling excuses to you each morning as to why he was still on the ship. You’d never answer, just offering him the barest dip of your chin. Din hadn’t just rejected you-he’d been cruel about it. And he hadn’t slept since the night he’d spat those pathetic words at you in an effort of self-preservation, either. The moment kept replaying in his head over and over: your initial nervousness, the words you’d said to him, and your wince at the ones he’d reciprocated with.

But like he’d admitted: Din Djarin was not a strong man. For you; only for you, he would crumble. To see your usual cheeriness replaced by this emptiness nearly made his knees buckle. You’d stopped eating, too - quietly slipping your food to Grogu, whose concern was overridden by his constant hunger. He’d done this: out of fear of hurting you, he’d reduced you to a mere shadow of what you used to be by doing it anyways. Out of his fear of fucking it up, he’d gone and done that exact thing without even trying to make it work. It was unacceptable to him, to go without hearing your laugh or your jokes or your humming. Not to see you giggling with Grogu. Fix it then, dikuit. So he would.

Din walked into the cockpit, picked Grogu up from his place on the floor, and whispered a soft apology to him before shutting him in his cot. Grogu, ever-understanding, had just pressed a claw to his helmet and nodded as if wishing him luck. Thanks kid, I’m going to need it. He’d seen your confusion when he had taken Grogu out of the cockpit, but youremained mute. Walking back towards you, Din could feel his chest hurting at the way your hands shook and your eyes glossed over when he got closer.

“I’m sorry.” His words have no effect; a tilt of your head is the only proof you offer to show that you heard him. Ironic, isn’t it, to be at the receiving end of what I do to others all the time? “For how harsh I was. I didn’t mean it.” Your mouth opens this time, but he raises a hand to stop you. If he doesn’t get this out now, he never will. “I was the one lying to myself, not you. I fell in love with you a long, long time ago, ner’karta. But I was scared-still am-because I have nothing good to give you. Not like what you deserve. My creed alone means that I can’t show you my face until we get married. My job doesn’t allow me stability. I have never been…loved. I do not know how to love you properly. All I know is that it doesn’t feel like a good morning until you say it, that I feel myself flushing under my beskar when you smile at me, that I have to bite my lip to stop a chuckle when you tell me your jokes. All I know is that since you’ve come into my life and made it brighter, it seems I can’t face the darkness alone again. These past two weeks have been hell, cyar’ika. I cannot bear to see you like this. Please forgive me. I will drop you off anywhere you wish to go.”

And then your face is twisting and you’re sobbing - large, shuddering sobs that alarm Din when they begin. He reaches a tentative hand out towards you slowly, giving you more than enough opportunity to slap it away. When you don’t, he steps closer and pulls you into his chest. As I should have done then. You shake with the force of your hiccups, and Din reaches to rip off his gloves before wrapping his arms around you, a warm hand coming to cradle your head against him. All he can say is a feverish repetition of “I’m sorry, I’m sorrymy love, please forgive me”.

By the time your tears subside, you can hear sniffs coming from under the helmet too; his modulated voice cracking and giving away his own crying. “Y-you don’t get to-to decide for me. You can’t decide whether or not you can offer enough or whether you can love me properly or not. Just love me, Mando. All you have to do is try.” Your voice is so fragile, so tentative as you speak into his chest that Din’s heart aches at the pain he can hear in it. You continue, “I don’t need stability from you, nor do I need your name or face. To have your heart is enough.” And though you can’t see it, Din has to shut his eyes and brace himself against the weight of his own tears this time. His chest warming, butterflies in his stomach as he tucks you impossible closer.

“Like I said, cyar’ika, you’ve had it for a very long time.” And then you’re smiling again, as Din’s knees threaten to buckle from the force of emotion that wells up at the sight. You’ve pulled back from his chest, but stay close enough to graze his helmet with your nose.

“Is that so, Mando? Do I want to know how long?” You whisper back, somehow looking straight into his eyes despite the visor.

“Din.” At your frown, he clarifies hesitantly. “My name, cyar’ika. Din Djarin.” You beam brighter, repeating it to yourself. “Wait - cyar’ika? You started calling me that last year, when you were annoyed I bought that fuzzy green hat with frog ear and Grogu tried to eat it on the way home. I thought it was like a swear word, or something -not that I think you would swear at me, you just seemed very annoyed, you know?”

A chuckle slips past his modulator, before he gives in completely. “Close your eyes, please.” When you comply, he rips his helmet off and cups your jaw with his hand, thumb stroking your cheek. Leaning in, he presses his mouth to yours gently, leaning back to look at you. “Beloved, cyare. It means beloved.” Before he can say anything else, your hands tangle in his hair, and suddenly you’re pulling him back into another kiss. And another. And another.

You two remain so wrapped up in each other that you actually forget to leave the cockpit until Grogu stomps in, having apparently broken out of his cot, and begins babbling at you both angrily, before seeing the smile on your face after so long and hurtling towards you at full speed, nearly tripping on his robes in the process before you catch him in your arms.

It was true, though. You didn’t need Din to go out of his way to give you anything. This was enough.

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 5 months

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Shining Din Djarin x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: You want Mando to make you shine. Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving), exhibitionism (you let Din watch you masturbate), p in v sex, creampie (reader has an implant), light sub/dom vibes, Din gets handcuffed by his own binders, sensory deprivation with the help of Din's helmet. Words: 3,735 A/N: This idea has been dancing around in my head for the past week, thanks to @frannyzooey for her thot night post and kind motivation. Also, shout out to "Ghost In The Machine" by SZA. I dunno man, this is the first time I've ever written Din and wow, he was fun.

Masterlist

Mandalorians want for nothing, so why did he want you so bad?

Months of you joining him on his hunts, a damned demand of Karga. “She’s young and capable, she’ll be good for my little friend to have someone else to take care of him. I won’t take no, you owe me.”

Your little trinkets taking up precious cargo in his small ship, your pretty face always shining through the display tempting him to give it all up just for a glimpse of the color of your soft skin, your beautiful body keeping him up and frustrated at night while you sleep soundly on the cot you insisted you needed. The only reason why he caved is because he was tired of you sneaking into his pod and leaving his blankets smelling like you.

The kid, the damn kid loves you, adores you. He’s pretty sure he loves you more than he loves him. The way you talk to him with your sweet voice, the way you run over to him whenever he lets out a frustrated cry, the way his kid looks held in your arms as you soothe him.

He was frustrated, he was at his breaking point. You’re so beautiful and so delicate and yet you call him out on his shit, you keep him in line. He’s never wanted anybody like he wants you.

He hated facing you after stepping out of the fresher, always feeling like you can look behind the beskar he’s covered in. Like you know he just came on the shower wall imagining the cold, flat metal is the warm, silky skin of your tits.

Tonight, in the middle of nowhere on this backwater planet, you trounce around the fire in your gauze sleep gown, smiling and laughing as the kid chases you. You look like an angel, lit by the flames licking across your skin casting your body in a deep amber glow. He tries to focus on the gun he’s cleaning to keep his attention off of you but he can’t stop staring. He counts the minutes until it’s the kid’s bedtime. He has to do something about this, either he needs to take you back home or he needs to feel how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock. Taking you home would be easier.

——

“Well, that didn’t take long,” you say, leaning against the opening of the ship.

He nods at you, his helmet still downcast focused on cleaning his armor. He’s gotten used to you obviously, he’ll at least remove a piece of armor in front of you. Never the helmet, you understand that, but seeing him without his usual chest piece makes you so wet he might as well be fully naked.

You’re going mad, the Crest isn’t a big ship and he’s a big man. If you have to feel the cool touch of beskar against your skin as you move past him one more time you just might explode.

You’re used to getting what you want, you’re smart, you’re clever, you’re resolute. Like Karga always tells you, “you have spunk kid, nobody will ever be able to tell you no.” That’s why you put the white nightgown on, he might be wearing a helmet, but you can always tell just how much he likes what you’re wearing by how hard you feel his stare behind that faceless mask, you really feel it whenever you wear this.

“He’s tired,” you walk down the ramp, “I think all I did today was play with him, don’t know why he needed so much attention.”

“He knows you’ll always give him it.”

“Really?” You roll your eyes as you sit across the fire from him. “At least he’ll sleep through the night, you’re welcome by the way.”

“Hm,” he nods, still preoccupied by shining his armor.

“Think it’s shiny enough, big guy?” You lean over, your hands resting on your knees, the neckline of your dress dipping farther down as you lean forward to look at him above the fire.

“Just about,” he’s rubbing his chest plate harder and faster… you know he’s avoiding looking over at you.

“I love how your armor reflects the flames,” your voice coming out lower and huskier. “I love being able to watch the fire burn on your chest, like your heart’s been set aflame.”

His hand pauses, the cloth he was using sits idle against the metal. His helmet tilts up, you feel his eyes back on you.

“Is it shiny enough for me to see that now?”

A single nod before he lifts his armor over his head and attaches it. “I can see,” you whisper.

He stares forward, his eyes are on you, something has shifted in the air of this small circle around the fire.

You lean even more forward, the plush of your breasts almost spilling out of your dress. You watch his chest rise as he takes a deep breath in.

“I wish I could shine like you,” your confession leaving your mouth as you run a hand up and down your neck and chest.

“You shine,” the modulated voice sizzles through you.

“Yeah? How bright can I shine for you tonight?” Your hand dipping underneath the fabric of your dress petting back and forth across your breasts.

“As bright as you want for me.”

“Sure about that? I can burn really bright. Can I see if I burn bright in your armor?”

He straightens, sitting taller and nods.

You rise off the rock, grabbing the bottom of your dress as you stand, lifting it up over your head.

You pad over to him naked, the crisp breeze of the forest hitting your skin. It truly feels like you’re the only two people on this whole planet. His hands clench into fists as you stand in front of him.

“Can’t see much, just the outline of my body in the flickering light. What do you see?”

“You,” the modulated crackling as he chokes out, “all of you.”

You lift one of his hands, grabbing the edge of his glove. “Can I?”

He nods.

You remove it. Thick fingers, well manicured short nails, trails of veins running through strong muscles. Your cunt begins to weep as you think of what his hand would feel like between your legs. You’ve seen his bare hands before, sometimes he gives the kid it to entertain himself with, sometimes he needs his hand bare to repair something. But, you’ve never seen it this close. It’s the only body part you’ve seen of his, you imagine the rest of him to be just as golden, just as toned, just as thick as his hand.

You rest it on your hip, a moan escapes your mouth at the contact. He lets out a huff of modulated air as he grips your skin.

“Maker,” you whisper into the night sky, just his hand on you igniting something powerful. He tests you, running a lazy line up to your chest and back down to your hips, the path sets your skin ablaze. You want him to go lower, you want one of his thick fingers to push inside, you want him to feel how wet you are.

“See, sometimes you shine too bright, and it does things to me. Sometimes I can’t look away and it makes being around you really hard for me and I have to sneak my hand down at night ‘n try to dull that ache. I think you feel the same way… sometimes I can hear you in that fresher,” his head raises towards you, his grip tightening now searing against your skin, “the walls are thin.”

“I hear you… I-I listen.” Maker, his voice. You’ve never heard his voice this way, the shame dripping out of the tinny speakers.

Your eyebrow raises at his confession. “You listen to me?”

A solemn nod, downcast.

“Hey,” you touch the edge of his helmet, lifting it so he can look at you. This is the first time you’ve ever touched it. In fact, this is the first time you’ve actually touched him, besides a quick brush as you move past or put the baby in his arms. “I like that. Would you watch me if you could?”

His helmet nods in your hold.

You can feel the tensity radiating off of him, you know he’s a hunter you know that under all of those layers he’s screaming to get out, to attack you, to make you his bounty.

“You know, I see you hunt people all of the time. I can’t explain what it does to me to see your big body in the distance walking towards us and the ship, your bounty cuffed and subservient to you. I love the power you hold, but I think you’d like someone else to have that power over you. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Can I have that power over you?”

“Yes.”

“You want to watch me?”

He nods.

You turn away from him, grabbing the blanket folded on the rock you were using earlier to look up at the stars with the kid, laying it on the ground by the fire. You settle yourself on it, the warmth from the flames heating your body. You lean back on your hands, locking your knees together.

“Tell me what you want to see, you’re such a being of few words, talk to me.”

“Open your legs.”

You separate your legs, spreading them open, your pussy is on full display for him, dripping for him. His hands rest on his knees as he leans forward.

“Touch yourself,” he whispers out.

You trail your hand down to in between your legs, rubbing a line from your clit to your hole.

“Am I shining here for you?”

“Yes,” the modulator crackles as he hisses.

Your fingers light a trail around your clit, your hips cant up whenever you rub against the tight bundle of nerves. You’re putting on a show for him, biting your lip and staring straight forward into the small window of his helmet. Even though you can’t see them, you know his eyes are only focused on you. You moan into the night, tilting your head back to look at the stars as your finger dips into your entrance.

You can hear his breathing over the squelchy sound of your finger pumping in and out of you, your head turning back down towards him when you hear a low groan. His hands are gripping his knees, he’s leaning over as far as he can as he watches you fuck yourself.

The way his large shoulders are rising and falling rapidly as his breathing quickens makes your body ache, your palm knocks against your clit as you add another finger and fuck yourself.

“Do you want me to cum for you like this?”

“C-c-can I touch you when you do?”

Oh, his voice. It’s so heavy and yet so light. You’ve never heard it like this, he sounds so young, so excited, so unlike the scary Mandalorian that secretly intimidates you, not that you’d ever let him know.

“Come here,” you shuffle your feet wider, spreading your legs as far as you can. “Kneel down.”

He moves lightning quick, a dash of metal appearing in between your legs. He’s so fucking big, so fucking broad, so fucking handsome, so fucking strong, he drives you crazy and all you’ve ever seen of him is his hand.

He takes his other glove off and throwing it to the side before tentatively placing his hands on your knees, the feel of his rough palms planting against your soft skin bringing you closer to your climax.

“Cum for me,” he whispers. You wish he didn’t have that damn helmet, you wish his real voice could float across the air and land against your cunt.

His hands grip you harder as your hips begin to rise and fall while you writhe against the soft blanket, your cunt tightening around your fingers as you pull yourself onto the cliff and leap down into the ocean of your pleasure.

You don’t break eye contact with Mando, his firm stare you feel behind that damned black shield shattering your heart and your pussy into a million pieces as you scream out into the vast wilderness of the night.

His hands chart a path across your knees, his touch so gentle versus the way he was just clutching you as you came for him.

“Did I shine for you?” Your voice comes out smaller and more delicate than you wanted.

“Brightly.”

“Can I make you shine bright for me?”

“Yes.”

“Can I have my way with you, the way I want it? The way I’ve dreamed about taking you?” You sit up, his hands still rub your legs, as if once you’ve given him permission to touch you it’s all he wants to do now.

He nods.

You turn your head to the side, looking at all of his now clean weapons laid out on the table. The binders are still there, their presence has been on your mind since you saw him pick them up earlier to clean.

“Can I borrow something from over there?”

“What?”

“Can I borrow your binders?”

“Y-yes.”

You rise up off the blanket, moving quickly to pick them up, as if you don’t do this right now, he’s going to back out. You’re now the hunter. You pick them up in your hand, they’re heavier than you thought, the metal is cool against your touch.

“Can I cuff you like I caught you… like you’re my bounty?”

His deep growl as he tips his head back shoots a wave of pleasure through your body, you can only assume it matches what he’s currently feeling. You love that the two of you are now sharing in each other’s pleasure instead of hiding it behind the thin metal walls of a spaceship.

“Yes.”

You can’t hide your smile as you stalk towards him, like he’s now caught and you’re ready to get your reward. He hasn’t moved from where he knelt in front of you as he watched you fuck yourself.

“Can you take your vambraces off for me?”

He deftly removes them without a word, laying them next to him.

“Can you do something else for me?”

He nods.

“Can you show me how to turn your volume and display off in your helmet? You saw my cunt, you heard me fuck myself, but you’ve never felt my pussy or mouth. I want you to only feel it now.”

“Dank farrik,” he grunts. “Yes.”

He picks up a vambrace, putting in a couple of codes, his fingers driving you crazy as they move across the small buttons.

“Press this when you want it,” he pants out as he hands it to you.

“Thank you. Put your hands in front, raise them up.”

He follows your instructions. He looks so good like this, kneeling in front of you ready to serve, you like having this power over him. This must be how he feels whenever he catches his prey.

You grab one of his arms, pushing the sleeve up of his flight suit. His skin is just as bronzed as you expected it to be, born that way, hidden away for years underneath fabric and armor. You do the same with the other arm, the sight of his toned and hairy forearms causing a wave of heat to spread over your body.

You put a cuff over his wrist, locking it in place. You look up at him, checking to make sure he’s okay with this. He nods his approval as you slip the other cuff on and lock it. He’s now bound, still kneeling, his thick legs supporting him as he lowers his hands down.

“Good?” You whisper as you stand tall in front of him. “Lay on your back, put your arms over your head.”

You’ll never not be shocked at how big he is, yet how easily he moves in his large body. He takes up the whole blanket. Your mouth waters as you notice how his pants are tented as he lays down for you.

“I promise I won’t remove any more armor or your helmet, but I will help myself to you. I want you to be as loud as you can be, let yourself go, let me have the power, you deserve it. I’m going to turn off the display and your sound, is that okay?”

“Yes, Maker, yes.”

“If you need me, say Lothal,” you hit the button he showed you, Din’s head thuds against the dirt as you imagine he’s now cast in complete darkness and silence. You listen to his deep breathing as you look down at him. Fuck, this is going to be good.

You settle on the ground kneeling between his spread legs, just like he did for you. Your hands move across the rough fabric of his flight suit, his hoarse groan rumbles through his body when you caress his thighs.

“That’s it, that’s it baby,” you whisper to nobody, the thrill of seeing him like this letting go for you makes your head spin.

The shape of his hard cock straining against the zipper of his flight suit beckons you. You run a hand across it, his whole body shudders. He’s panting, the sounds of his struggle soaring into the air causing goosebumps to prickle against your skin and your cunt to clench.

You lick your lips as you unzip the zipper, grabbing the heft of him and lifting it out. Maker, Maker, Maker. He’s so wide and firm, just like you knew he would be. Swollen, throbbing, fucking gorgeous, precum leaking down his tip.

He lets out a rasped “ahhh” as you wrap your fist around his length. His skin is so soft, so silky, so firm. Your thumb swipes across his tip, collecting the precum on the pad of it, bringing it to your mouth to taste him. He tastes delicious… salty and musky. You sit back and watch him lay there vulnerable only for you, his exposed cock twitching in the light of the fire. Your head, heart, and core are heavy with want for this mystery of a man… you wonder if anybody has ever had him like you do right now.

“Mesh’la?” His voice breaks you out of your daze. Mando’a, you’ve never heard him speak it. You make a note to yourself to look that word up on your datapad later.

“I’m here,” you say before realizing he can’t hear you. You place a hand on his thigh and gently squeeze it as you lay in between his thick thighs, his legs caging you in.

You angle your head forward and seal your mouth over the head of his cock, his whole body shivers as you suck him. He feels so good in your mouth, you love the slight stretch of your lips as you move his length down your throat.

Your eyes water as you take him all the way down, his tip hitting the back of your throat making you gag around him. You slide him out of your mouth, grabbing him at the base and slapping his length against your lips, you revel in the sting it leaves against your skin as you stick him back in and bob your mouth up and down, your tongue tasting the salt of his skin.

You hollow your cheeks around him, the combined sounds of ecstasy coming out of the speakers of his helmet mixed with the slurp of your lips soundtrack the night as his hips begin to lift when he begins fucking into your mouth.

You know he’s close, the way his moans garble, the way his hips begin to stutter as you swirl your tongue against him. He chokes out a protest as you slip him out of your mouth, leaving him pulsing. You’re selfish, you want what you want and he’s given you the opportunity tonight to take whatever you want from him.

You grab his vambrace before sitting down and straddling his thighs. Reaching down you grab his cock, angling him to rub between your soaked folds, the tip bumps against your swollen clit and you yelp.

You want him to watch, you want him to hear. You hit the button on his vambrace, his helmet instantly pops up, the black T of his helmet angled to look right at the apex of your thighs.

“Wanted you to see this,” you say as you rise up, grabbing his cock and slowly sinking yourself down on it.

Your body accepts all of him as you roll your hips, getting comfortable around the feeling of being stuffed so full of him.

“You feel so good in me, I knew you would, let me do the work, let me fuck you,” you whimper as he stretches your tight hole.

You use him to fuck yourself, he lays perfectly still like you asked him, you never imagined he’d listen so well to your instructions. He’s panting for you, his arms still raised above his head, his wrists straining against the cuffs, hands forming tight fists as you begin to pound him.

You move your hand down to start rubbing circles around your clit, you’re on the edge of another orgasm, you can tell he’s even closer.

“You can cum for me, I have the implant, I want to feel you pump your cum inside me, cum for me Mando.”

His helmet bobbles as his body shudders underneath you.

It destroys you, the feel of his big cock spearing you as he empties himself into you, the sound of the garbled words he’s grunting as he tilts his hips up into you, the feel of your fingers tracing your clit, the heat of the fire warming your already feverish body.

You strangle his cock as you orgasm, your slick mixing with his spend inside you as you lean forward on him, laying your body on top of his. You reach up and remove both cuffs, throwing them to the side as he shakes each hand out. You stare into his helmet, you can make out the reflection of your face in the black T of his visor.

“I can see myself shining in you now,” you say as he wraps his arms around you.

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2kiran · 11 months

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◜ᐢ..ᐢ◝ ᶻz ➜ din didn’t know how it lead to this. you were his bounty and you made him chase after you then, eventually, he got to you. he was annoyed at you for being so stubborn when he caught you. but now? he’s completely at your mercy.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𖤐 pairing ☆ din djarin x dom!m!reader ˖ ࣪ ˖ cw ıllı bonus. helmetless!din. thigh riding. use of sir. blowjob [ giving ]. orgasm delay/denial. praise + degradation. ⪩⭔⪨

At first, a plan was quick to formulate in your mind. Intent on escaping his harsh grip as you were seconds away from boarding the Razor Crest. Unfortunately, you didn’t succeed. The Mandalorian’s reaction time was better than you expected. What was happening now, though, completely makes up for your earlier humiliation.

The feared and brutal bounty hunter, was on your thigh with his face bare, reduced to a whimpering mess.

“Shame that you have to wear that helmet of yours all the time. ‘s a waste for your pretty face.” He seemed utterly helpless, eyes pleading to you to end this enjoyable torture.

You guided him on your thigh, so slowly that he got quickly frustrated. “Faster...ah!” You sped up your movements briefly, only to slow it down again, earning a whine from him. “So impatient. We’ve only begun.” He shook his head, “Sir, I ca–can’t. I need—” You interrupted him, “You can. Be thankful that I haven’t already left after you’ve embarrassed me.” He moaned lowly as he rocked against you just right, “I’m sorry, f-fuck.” His hands rose, gripping your shoulders for dear life.

“It’s too late for that.” You lifted him away from your thigh, making Mando let out a sob. You put him on the crate you were sitting on and you pulled down his boxers, revealing his leaking cock. “I’ve barely done anything to you.” You leaned in without warning, licking up from the shaft to the tip. “Ah! Fuck, fuck,” He instinctively bucked into your warm mouth, a breathy moan escaping him as you hummed. The vibrations were dizzying his brain.

“Mmngh...Feels s’good. You’re doin’ so good...your m–mouth, ngh!” Your own cock strained against your pants at his words, laced with bliss. You surfaced, pulling off him to breathe. He groaned in disappointment, “No! I was s’close.” He slurred, a frown on his lips.

Oh.

He deserves this punishment.

You suddenly take him back in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. “Oh! ‘M go–gonna—” On cue, your mouth was off of him again. Tongue ghosting over his tip. “What... why’d you stop?” He panted, “Do you think you deserve to cum?” His eyes widened, “I’m... I’m so sorry. Need your mouth on me. Please.” Your thumb rubbed lazy circles into his thigh to calm him down, “You can do better than that, yeah?” Tears brimmed at his waterline.

“Please... I need you. Need you to help me cum, to help me feel good, please. I’m sorry.”

“Stand up.” He followed your order, his shaky legs threatening to give up on him but you quickly pinned him to the wall. Swiftly, you took your pants along with your boxers off. Mando felt drool build up under his tongue at the sight of your cock. “Open your mouth for me, pretty boy.” He opened his mouth and you shove in three of your fingers, taking him by surprise. “What’re you waitin’ for? Suck on them, slut.” He did, surprisingly obedient and filthy.

Once he coated your fingers with his saliva, you put one of them into his hole. Then a second, scissoring him. Then there comes a third. “You’re taking me in so well, huh? Greedy little whore.” His dick twitched, his teeth biting on his bottom lip to muffle his sounds. You lined up your cock and slid it in, filling him up instantly. Din’s tears finally flowed down, staining his cheeks, “Please,” he weakly begged, voice more of a whisper, “Please fuck me, sir.” You couldn’t help it. Your hips drew themselves back, pounding into his entrance. The way he moaned your name seemed like it’s the only word he ever knew. You could consider it poetical, but it was absolutely whorish.

Mando swears a silent oath that he’ll never admit that he wants you to ruin him — to make a mess out of him in front of those who fears him.

But if you’re lucky enough, you could fuck it out of him.

“I’m going to—” He half-warns, “Don’t. Not until I say you can.” He quietly whimpered, choosing to keep silent. Mando knew better than to complain. He could only shut up and be your little toy.

The once silent Razor Crest was filled with his moans and the sounds of his squelching hole. You leaned in and kissed him, sliding your tongue into his mouth. Successfully silencing his moans until you pulled away, “You’re better when you’re quiet.” Your hand met his cock, setting up a quick pace, “Cum for me.” Almost on command, he came onto your shirt. His hole sucked you in so tightly, sending you off the edge.

You pulled out of him after a few moments, some of your cum dribbling down your cock. You kissed his tear-stained cheek sweetly, “Good boy.”

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

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devils-dares · 1 year

Text

Head to Bed

summary: nodding off on the razor crest

pairing: din djarin x gn!reader

wordcount: 438

warnings: none

a/n: my first din djarin fic! this was inevitable with @galaxysgal convincing me to watch the mandalorian and putting up with all of my shitty star wars questions.

comments and reblogs appreciated!

-----

Hyperspace was calming. It was quiet and calm and even flying through space without any pirates or looters was calm. You’d been sitting in the Razor Crest next to Din, who was currently flying the craft. You were beginning to nod off, catching yourself before your chin dropped too low.

Din was watching as you tried your best to fight the slumber, smiling under the mask as you snapped awake again. He waited a few more minutes until you actually fell asleep, leaning on the side wall, to wake you.

You felt a hand on your thigh, eyes opening to find the beskar helmet staring back at you.

“Head to bed,” he says, “I can fly for a while, take the kid.”

“I don’t want you to be here up alone, we’re about to go through open space.”

“Just for a little bit, I need to stop for fuel, and then we’ll be right back on our path.”

“Din-”

“I will be fine,” he presses, “look, the kid’s snoring in your arms, head to bed.” You look down to find him drooling on your shirt, ears drooped down in his slumber.

“Okay,” you give in, truly too tired to argue, “but you have to promise to wake me if you need some rest, or if you meet anyone giving you any issues.” He laughs.

“I know how scary you can get.”

“I’m serious.”

“By the time I’ll need rest I’ll be able to put it on autopilot.” He reasons. Your hands rests on his shoulder for a few seconds before you head down the ladder and climb into Mando’s bed, placing the kid on his hammock.

You can vaguely remember the ship landing on some fuel site, and Mando’s armored footsteps clunking across the ship floor. The takeoff wakes you again, but you settle quickly, falling asleep only seconds after waking.

A little while later, the panel to the bed slides opens. Squinting, you make out Mando’s silhouette, shedding piece after piece of beskar.

“Mando?”

“Shh.” The bed sinks on one side.

“D’ya need me to fly for a while?” You ask, voice rough and groggy from sleep.

“No, just stay facing that way.” You hear a few clicks, and then he presses himself up against your body in the tight space. You can feel his breath on your neck, realizing that he’d rid himself of his helmet. His hand snakes under your shirt, calloused fingers running over the much softer skin. His chest is pressed flush against your back, and you can feel his breathing even out slowly.

“Night, Mando.” You say, but he’s already fallen asleep.

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b1rds3ye · 1 year

Note

I really love your masked reader headcannons!! Especially the LED mask ones. I think it’s such a fun concept and the way all the boys react/ accommodate the reader and their preferences is so sweet!

So idk what your familiarity to Star Wars is but there’s a people (Mandalorians) who traditionally wear armor that covers their faces and bodies pretty much all the time. As such there’s something called a kelblade kiss and what that is is when two mandos press their helmeted foreheads together as a way to show affection when they’re all armored up. I was thinking about this and how the 141 would react if the masked reader leaned their forehead against them in lieu of kissing their cheek in a moment where they wanted to be affectionate but leave the mask on? If you have thoughts I would love to know! <3

OMG THIS IS SO CUTE!! I was raised on the og Star Wars trilogy, even the prequel 3 by George Lucas but I've completely fallen off since Disney's taken the reigns 😭😭 BUT YES I know Mandalorian I didn't know they had the little kiss thing though IT'S SO SWEET TO IMAGINE

Any physical contact with Price is generally rare when he's on duty, it comes with him just being busy and the natural commanding presence as captain. But when you first press your forehead against his, John's initial confusion gives him a respite from the stress of the military now that his entire focus is on you. It seems he needed the affection more than you did. Now your little forehead taps are his lifeline. Your mask always gets his bucket hat tilting off angle, the front rim a little crumpled when you pull away, but it always leaves him wearing a fond grin that is for you and you alone.

It's a little awkward trying to do it with Ghost, not only is Simon inconveniently tall but his own hard mask makes such a gesture of affection have the tact of a kid shoving the faces of two plastic dolls together. Simon is solid and immovable, and is far too entertained by you nearly self-concussing as you tap your forehead against his, stumbling back in a slight daze. Still, the intentions aren't lost on him and they're very much appreciated. He doesn't do them back, but in more serious moments, he lets you stay, forehead against his. He can't see your eyes but he makes sure you can see the emotions swimming in his.

Soap absolutely adores them! It's your own little form of affection and he loves the little quirks that come with your mask. But for whatever reason, he's taking your little forehead touch as a competition. "Did nae feel a thing!" Johnny would complain, taunting you to go harder next time. At this rate he's just asking to be clobbered across the head but he believes that if it's from you, that's a damn blessing and whatever bruise that comes from it he'll wear with pride. He always reciprocates in kind. It's more of a headbutt with his over-enthusiasm but he must have a forehead of steel or something because he always pulls away beaming.

Your little forehead taps always leave Gaz giggling and bashful. It's been a little harder as of late since he now wears a cap with a hard brim, for a while Kyle thought your lack of recent "mask kisses" was because the two of you had unfortunately drifted apart. He now foregoes the cap whenever you're around. When you enter the room he gives an exaggerated bow down to you, jerking his head up to signal to his forehead and he won't move an inch until you greet him with a forehead tap (this also happens if you ever have to leave the conversation). He tried to give a forehead tap back once but he was a little too enthusiastic and needed frozen peas to the head for the rest of the day.

Call of Duty Masterlist Masked Reader Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #/*avery actually writes*/#/*avery checks the mailbox*/#anon mail ❤️#/*cod x masked reader*/

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bits-and-babs · 2 years

Note

i’m so sorry for your loss. i hope you’ve received a lot of requests though and are managing to stay distracted 💛

could i please request some soft period sex with din djarin? i’ve been loving your din fics lately and there really aren’t enough people out there writing for him, so thank you for doing god’s work!!

𝐂𝐘𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐒 — 𝐃𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍

» PAIRING : The Mandalorian x f! Reader

» CONTENTS : established fwb relationship, feeeelinggggs, period sex (duh), p in v sex, he talks you through it, cream pie (must I say it again, *wrap it kids*). He removes the helmet but you don’t see his face. Romantic as Mando can get. 18+, kiddos.

» AUTHORS NOTE : thank you for your condolences sweet pea. I’m doing much better with all these asks to work through!

» DIN MASTERLIST : here || MAIN MASTERLIST : here

“You’re in pain.”

For a man that doesn’t like droids, the voice that floats through The Mandalorians modulator sure sounds droid-esque. His tone is flat, devoid of emotion as he tries to ascertain the reason for your scrunched-up brows.

“I’m fine,” you dismiss awkwardly. The Mandalorian would have to set you alight with his flamethrower vambrace if he wanted to pry the information out of you.

Your period has started, settling a creeping pain across your lower back that kicks into what you can only describe as cramp-hyperspace. You’re both irritable and needy simultaneously, desperate for his attention yet frustrated by his presence all at once. Besides, you couldn’t call what you and The Mandalorian had a ‘relationship’. Sharing a cot every once in a while to ease the frustration built in a tin can in hyperspace wasn’t exactly marriage, was it?

A leather-clad hand gently finds its way onto the small of your back, rubbing slowly against the tight muscles there and soothing the ache that’s so intense it feels like it may pull away the flesh from your spine.

“I heard…” The Mandalorian hesitates for a moment, a twang of nervousness sounding from the tip of his tongue. “I heard that release is… is good for the pain.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach when his visor tilts to you, taking in your expression. His hand slides along the curve of your ass ever so gently, a ghost of a touch that feels more likely to be a figment of the force than something the big, burly Mandalorian could muster.

“Mando-“

He’s on you in a second, grabbing underneath your ass and hoisting you upwards in a strong lift that makes your head spin. You push your forehead to the smooth, cold metal of his helmet as he struggles to pull your pants down. He doesn’t get them past your knees, pushing your back against the wall and groaning as he works at his flight suit.

“I-I’m bleeding, Man-“

“I don’t care,” he rasps, voice dripping with arousal as he pulls his cock out from his pants. You can hear him work at it for a moment, his breath picking up as you whimper. “If you want me to fuck you- if that’s what you need- stars- I’ll give it to you, pretty baby, give you anything you need.”

He’s babbling, pushing your panties to the side and swiping his gloved fingers through your folds until the leather catches on your clit. You gasp loudly, the slight friction enough for your hips to jump off the wall.

Mando doesn’t hesitate, lining the head of his cock against your entrance before pushing into you with such ease. You take him so well, your body desperate to be filled by him that it offers no resistance at all. A groan tears from his throat like someone had punched him straight in the gut, wheezing slightly when he feels the head of his dick bitch against your cervix.

It should hurt, and it does, but stars, it feels so good, too. Your back is arching against the cool durasteel, tears welling in your eyes as he rolls his hips impossibly deeper. The coarse hair on his pubic bone grinds just right against your clit, and your walls clamp around his cock while you whine out his name.

“I know, Baby Girl, I know,” he breathes, his hips starting a languid, steady pace that has you digging your fingernails into the pauldrons on his shoulders. It stretches you out just right, your hips raising to meet each thrust as you sigh out his name in what could only be described as some kind of prayer.

“MmmMando,” you moan, head tilting back until your crown hits the wall behind you. Eyes cast to the heavens, they tear up as tendrils of pleasure work their way up your spine, Mando’s hips already working you towards bliss in a way only he could.

“Close your eyes, Pretty Baby,” you hear him groan, his voice gravelly. You do so without question, eyelids heavy already with the intensity of the pleasure building between your thighs.

There’s a shift, a mumble of ‘keep ‘em closed’ that sounds too loud to be him, and then his lips are on your neck. Nando’s lips are on your neck, kissing and sucking at your skin as he ruts into you at a blinding pace.

“Ohmy- Mando-“ you choke out, tears streaming down your cheeks at the overwhelming rush of adrenaline, of emotions. The coarse hair of a trimmed beard you didn’t know he had bristles your skin, and he whispers a moan against the junction of your shoulder.

“Fuck, Baby,” he chokes out, his hand gripping at the flesh just beneath the curve of your ass where he holds you up. “So fucking wet, so tight for me, Baby. That’s it, I know, I know, I can feel it-“

You’re arching into him, moaning louder. The sound of your keens bounces off the walls of the hanger, ricocheting back into your ears as you feel your orgasm work its claws into your abdomen.

“I’ve got you,” Mando soothes you, even with the strain in his voice, “I’ve got you, m’here.”

It sends you dropping through space, plummeting past the stars and the planets as he hits something vital inside you. You’re cumming, bliss spilling through your body and momentarily blinding you as everything blurs before your eyes. It roils through you, tears you apart at the seams like you’ve been stretched and ripped open in the best way.

You must be screaming, must be wailing and sobbing his name, because Mando is offering you a chorus of ‘I know I know I know’. You’re so tight around him, gushing on his cock and his hips stutter, spitting out your name against the column of your throat in a voice that’s unmodulated and crystal clear as he cums, filling you up when he spills inside of you.

You’re both panting heavily, legs like jelly and bodies buzzing with a burning afterglow that could compete with the twin suns of Tatooine.

“M-Must have made a mess,” you whimper, voice cracking. Your eyes stay firmly shut, even when you hear him chuckle and feel him press a kiss to your jaw.

“That’s what a shower is for, isn’t it?”

You share the shower, share a cot in your moments of frustration on this tin can in hyperspace. Mando takes his helmet off for you, kissing and whispering utter bantha-shite while he smoothes your discomfort… Maybe it is a marriage proposal, after all.

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noisynaia · 1 year

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Hi! Can you do a Din x F!reader where when Din is visiting Greef Karga and telling him about how he wants to redeem himself, but then Karga asks him if that's really what he truly wants? Maybe the reader takes Grogu somewhere while they talk and he asks Din something like, "Have you ever considered not going back to Mandalore? You can be happy here with her." Or something along those lines? Thanks! You have a great talent! ♡

𝑊𝐻𝐼𝑇𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝐸𝐿𝐷𝑆

Thank you so much sweet anon 💕 This is such a lovely idea and I had such a great time writing it. I live for soft Din who just yearns for happiness but needs a little help realising that he is deserving of it. 💗

word count: 5.4k

pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

note: Mutual pining. Love confessions. Found family. The helmet comes off. Din has his first kiss. The Razor Crest lives. No use of (y/n). This has not been beta read and English is not my native language.

You are sitting in the passenger seat of the cockpit with Grogu, who is softly babbling, in your lap as he cradles his beloved little silver ball with both of his tiny hands. Din is sitting in the pilot chair next to you, getting the Razor Crest ready for landing. You can’t help but stare at him as he skillfully manoeuvres the ship. You have been travelling with the Mandalorian and his foundling for a little over a standard year now and what had started out as a small crush on Din has now bloomed into so much more, even though you had tried to fight it and protect your heart you have fallen utter and deeply in love with him.

The three of you are on your way to Nevarro to talk to Din’s employer Greef Karga. You have been with him to Nevarro a few times before and you are exited to be back, but you can’t help but worry that this might be your last time on the planet, at least while travelling with Din and little Grogu.

You have tried to fight your feelings for Din, but no matter how badly you tried there was nothing you could do to stop yourself from falling. You know that you are only setting yourself up for heartache, knowing that there is no way that the two of you ever could be together, even if he reciprocated your feelings which you don’t think he does. He is Mandalorian after all and you are not… Even though he is now an apostate. But that is why he will be travelling to Mandalore, to proclaim his creed and seek redemption and you can’t help but have a feeling that that journey won’t involve you which hurts. You know that your stay on the Crest always has been temporary. Just a job, after all. Just a needed help looking after Grogu. Staying on the ship with the little youngling while Din is out hunting bounties, but you feel like Din soon will tell you that you no longer will be needed.

That you will be parted with Din is going to hurt, but losing Groguis going to be unbearable. You have ended up caring so much for the little green kid, loving him so much, you don't think you could love him more had he been your own child. It is terrifying, the thought that you one day will have to say goodbye to him. You try not to think too much about it and you shake your head as Din is landing on the barren ground that constitutes as the spaceport of Nevarro City.

You cradle Grogu in your arms as you descend down the ramp with Din, the warm glow of the late afternoon sun is reflecting off his beskar making him look even more impressive than usual. You can’t help but feel proud to be walking by his side as you step through the pillars of the tall arch that open Nevarro City up from the spaceport. You are met by Karga that are walking towards you, arms spread in a welcoming gesture and a big wide smile lighting up his face. You can’t help but giggle when you notice that he has two small droids in tow, holding the ends of his long robe so it doesn’t drag along the ground.

“Mando, my friend! I was beginning to fear you would never return.” Karga greets him before turning his attention to you, offering you a great big smile. “And I see your beautiful travel companion hasn’t left you yet.” He lets out a friendly laugh. “You haven’t got tired of that old bucket head yet my dear?” You let out a giggle, you have missed the older man’s friendly, teasing banter.

“Not yet.” You smile at him. “Besides, this little one makes me stick around.” You say, looking lovingly down at the little child in your arms.

Grogu is shrieking with happiness at the familiar face and Karga looks at him with an even wider grin on his face than before, if that is even possible. “And would you look at that, my favourite little green baby! How are you doing kid?”

“Grogu.” Din says in a flat but not unfriendly tone, looping his thumb in his belt.

“Come again?” Karga turns towards the Mandalorian.

“His name, It’s Grogu.” Din clarifies.

“Huh, if you say so.” Karga shrugs his shoulders before taking Din’s gloved hand in his, placing his other hand on the armour of Din’s upper arm in a welcoming gesture. “Now come, come! A great deal has happened here since your last visit.”

It is true that a lot of things have happened, the city is looking amazing, many of the buildings are new and shiny, more trees and greenery than ever before, even the people on the street look more vibrant and happy.

“Yes, a lot of things have changed here. It doesn’t even look like the same place.” Din lets out.

“Yes, yes! We have a construction boom going on in the city, it is all rather exciting. But now come, come! It has been a while and I’m sure we have plenty to discuss.” Karga smiles, clearly proud of the new state of the city. “The two of you are very welcome to join us, of course, but I will not take offence if you would prefer to take a look around instead, it will probably be more exciting for the little one.” Karga addresses you, gesturing to Grogu. “I will happily offer one of my droids to give a tour of the new city if you are interested or maybe show you to the healing baths, those Twi’leks know what they’re doing, very soothing.”

“Thank you but I think we will be alright. I think we will go to the bazaar, find something nice for this one.” You smile down at Grogu who is happily cooing at your words.

“Good choice, you have to spoil the little bogwing as much as possible, being spoiled is an important part of being a youngling. And make sure you go to the fruit market. The meiloorun melons are most delectable this time of year.” Karga states before turning to Din. “Well, shall we, Mando? I’m sure we have a lot to discuss.”

Din turns his head back at you, his visor looking straight at you and you know that his eyes under his helmet must be locked with yours, it is a thought that always sends a warm rush through you and makes your heart beat a little faster.

“I’ll find you later. You have your com on you, right? ” He asks you which makes you roll your eyes with a teasing smile on your lips even though you still feel your heart beat a little faster than normal by his gaze.

“Of course.” You say, picking up the little device from your pocket to show him. “But we will be fine. You worry too much.” You say as you put the comlink back in your pocket. “I’ll call you if a reptavian is out to eat us or if we are about to be abducted by pirates or, I don’t know, maybe a kowakian is stealing Grogu’s meiloorun.” You tease him, he is always being so overprotective.

“Ah, ah. You must remember, a man is always allowed to worry about the people he loves. ” Karga chuckles while giving Din a playful pat on the back. Your smile falls at this and you feel your face heat at his comment. Din clears his throat awkwardly. You know that Din cares for you, but in what capacity you’re not sure, he is always making sure that you are safe and comfortable. He, of course, loves Grogu dearly, but Karga’s innuendo about Din loving both of you has your heart beating even faster than before.

“Shall we.” Din comments quickly, clearly flustered by Karga’s words too.

“Sure.” Karga exclaims. “It was lovely to see you again, now go and enjoy the city. I think you will find the place quite pleasant, we have built a new school too, great for the little ones.” He tells you, gesturing at Grogu, like he is trying to sell the idea of settling down here before turning to leave with Din.

You watch the backs of the two men as they walk up the stairs before they disappear into Karga’s building. You shake your head slightly before looking down at Grogu. “Shall we?” You ask him, echoing Din’s words from before. The little kid gurgles happily up at you which makes you smile widely. Maker, you love his cute little face so much.

You walk down the bustling street to the bazaar. You have to admit that the changes to the city really are very impressive, you could actually imagine living in a city like this. You start your shopping, a ration run was long overdue anyway and besides the needed basics you find a lot of other things too. A new robe for Grogu, happy to find some small enough to fit him, Maker knows he needs more, you feel like you are constantly washing the few he has. You also find a few things for yourself and you are happy when you find a booth that is selling Din’s favourite brand of nutrition packs, and in his favourite flavour too, not that he has told you that they are his favourites, but it was easy to figure out as they always are the one he picks.

“So, is it melon time now?” You ask, looking down at Grogu after you have paid for the nutrition packs. Grogu is cooing happily as if he understands and you chuckle down at him making your way to one of the fruit stands.

Karga was right, the meilooruns look perfect, ripe and mouthwatering. You smile at the elderly Twi’lek behind one of the booths, placing Grogu down on the ground before you start picking out the tastiest looking fruits, making polite conversation with the fruit seller while still keeping an eye on little Grogu. You pay for the fruits and the Twi’lek behind the booth hands you the last one. You feel Grogu tuck at your pant leg as he looks up at the fruit in your hand, clearly very interested in the orange-red melon that is almost bigger than his head. You chuckle at him, bending down to let him hold it which makes him let out an excited shriek.

“Good job!” You coo at the youngling as he proudly holds the big fruit with both hands, waddling over to the basket that you have lowered for him, where he, with a little difficulty but complete determination, lifts the fruit up to join the rest.

“Aw, what a good boy, helping mama out.” The Twi’lek coos at Grogu.

Your heart clenches at the woman’s comment and you yearn by the idea of actually being the little green kid’s mother. You smile at the fruit seller and then down at Grogu

“Yeah, he is the best.” You sigh softly.

Grogu is looking up at you with those big bright eyes of his, softly babbling before reaching his tiny arms up towards you in a gesture to tell you he wants you to lift him up. You are happy to oblige, picking him up and nuzzling your nose against his little chubby cheek before leaving a soft kiss on the same spot.

“Well, sweetheart I think that was all.” You tell him with a smile. “Your dad is probably also finishing up with Karga about now.”

“Why don’t you take some of these too, on the house, for being such a sweet boy.” The Twi’lek says, putting a few pika fruits and some jogans down a brown paper bag.

“Oh, no, that’s too kind of you.” You try to politely decline the woman's sweet offer but she just shrugs you off.

“Now, none of that. We like giving gifts here on Nevarro.” She smiles at you as she shakes her head, making her lekku’s swing from side to side, before looking at Grogu. “Why don’t you give these to your father, little one? Proof that you were nice and helpful while out shopping with mom?” She smiles at Grogu who is cooing and making grabby hands at the bag and you can’t say no to him, so you let him take it and thanking the sweet Twi’lek before going out to see if Din is finished at Karga’s. You can’t help but feel at peace here, people have been so sweet and welcoming.

—

Karga is pouring himself a glass of spotchka, offering a glass to Din, just like he always does, which Din declines, just like always does. “Hm, so today isn’t the day I’m gonna see your face either.” The older man jokes, lifting his glass to take a sip of the strong beverage. Din only scoffs at the comment.

“I came to tell that I won’t be able to take any bounties for a while.”

“Well, I am happy to hear that, Mando. Finally ready to give up that tumultuous life of yours?” Karga says with a big smile on his face. Now this was not the reaction Din had expected, confused by the man’s words.

“I have shown my face. I have to go to Mandalore to seek redemption in the living waters.” Karga’s smile falls as Din tells him this.

“Oh, Mando. Now I had hoped that you had come to tell me that you were ready to come quieten down here in Nevarro City.”

“I have taken off my helmet, I need to go to Mandalore.” Din tries to explain, but Karga does not seem to see that as a problem, waving a hand in the air as if what Din is telling him isn’t an issue in the slightest, like Din hasn’t broken the most holy of creeds, cutting him off with an unconcern look on his face.

“Well, have you considered not going?” The other man simply states.

“I am an apostate now.” Din tries again but it still doesn’t seem like an issue to Karga.

“Isn’t that just all the more reason to stay here. You might be considered an apostate among your people now, but here you will be welcomed with open arms. You could hang up your blaster, settle down and give the kid some stability, maybe even add a new little one to the family, I’m sure that lady of yours would enjoy that.” The older man says with a wink followed by a deep belly laugh before continuing. “Now, I don’t know how ugly that mug of yours is under there.” He says gesturing at Din’s helmet. “But I know that ain’t gonna scare her away, even a qartuum could see that that girl is enamoured with you.”

Din feels his face heat up under the helmet at Karga’s words. “She isn’t my lady.” Din mutters, not able to suppress how deeply he wish that you actually were.

“Hmm.” Karga hums, not sounding convinced. “If you say so. But, Mando, my friend, I have known you for a long time, since you were a young man and I don’t think I have ever seen you as happy as you are now, with her and the kid. I know you keep insisting that there is nothing going on between you and her, and that might be the truth, but you can’t convince me that you don’t want there to be.”

Din wants to protest, to tell the man that his statement is wrong, but he knows that it would fall for deaf ears, and he would give himself up anyway, Din has also always been a terrible liar. Of course he want’s something between you. His employer has seen right through him, hit the head right on the nail. Din has over the last few months started to come to terms with the fact that he has fallen completely and utterly in love with you. It is scary, completely unknown territory and Din doesn’t now what to do with these feelings he has for you, sure that you don’t feel the same - but, as little as he likes to admit it, a little hope has bloomed in his chest by Karga’s words. ‘Even a qartuum could see that that girl is enamoured with you.’ could that really be true?

Could you really feel the same for him as he feel for you? No, of course not, Karga is just teasing like he always does, right?

“I can’t hang up my blaster. It’s not that simple.” He sighs, shaking his helmeted head.

“But it’s not that complicated either.” Karga says, taking another sip of his spotchka before continuing. “You deserve some happiness, Mando and I think she can give you that. This is just an old man’s advice and you can do with it as you will, but I hope you believe me when I say that all I want is to see you happy.” He finishes this drink, setting the now emty glass down on the table before pulling out something from the pocket of his extravagant outfit.

“Now go back to that girl and that Grogu of yours and treat them to a nice dinner, I know how much that kid loves to eat.” He chuckles. “I have a nice prime tract set up, right over by the hot springs. You can spend the night there, I’m sure she will appreciate having somewhere nicer to sleep than that old ship of yours.” Karga says with a smile as he slides enough credits for a nice dinner and then some over the table along with a keychip and a little piece of paper with an address scribbled down. “Think about what I’ve said okay? It’s a nice place and it can be yours if you want it.” He adds, gesturing to the key that Din is now clutching in his gloved hand.

Din simply nods at the man and mumbles a quick ‘thanks’ before leaving. Karga’s words ringing in his head as he makes it down the busy street to the bazaar to find you and Grogu.

—

The house Karga has lent you is beautiful, which makes perfect sense, the High Magistrate has always struck you as the type of person with an eye for finer things, the makeover the city has gotten is proof of this. You had taken a little tour of the house, not able to stop yourself from fantasising about what it would be like to live in a place like this. It’s nice to pretend even if it’s just for a single night or two, you hope you get a chance to try out the soothing hot spring in the backyard before you have to leave again. It will probably be soon, you know how badly Din itches to travel to Mandalore to redeem himself. The thought making a tight knot form in your stomach, you and Din havent really talked much about it or talked about what was going to happen with you. You don’t even know if you would be allowed to come with him as a non-Mandalorian. Maybe the time you have been dreading so badly finally has come, Din telling you that he no longer needs your services and that he will travel to Mandalore with Grogu and reclaim his creed without you. It makes your little tour of the house feel so much more bitter sweet, the fantasy of the three of you living in a place like this seem stupid and silly.

You can’t help yourself from dragging your feet towards the open door of the room in which Din is currently putting Grogu to bed, watching them from the doorway. You are in complete awe by the sight of Din sweetly tucking Grogu in for the night, placing the warm blanket over the little kid who is placed on the soft bed. The contrast of the two is always a sight. The big brute bounty hunter, clad from head to toe in shiny, intimidating beskar, and the tiny little kid with giant shiny eyes and wobbling ears.

Even though you have known for a while that you love and care deeply for both Din and little Grogu, now as you watch them, you know that the love you have for the both of them is deeper than anything you have ever felt before. You love the little green kid as if he was your own and you have fallen deeply in love with his armour wearing dad.

Your heart yearns so bad by the sight of them, the love Din has for his little foundling is so bewitching and you find yourself stepping into the room, softly tip-toeing over to the bed, feeling yourself being pulled in like a magnet. Din looks up at you when you reach the bed. His helmet conceals his emotions but he doesn’t seem to mind that you have come over to them. Grogu has already snoozed off, Din pats the empty space of the bed next to him, encouraging you to take a seat which you do. The two of you sit there in silence for a moment looking at Grogu as he sweetly sleeps. You wonder how many more of these small moments you have left with them. You suddenly feel like you might start crying. You sigh as you stand up, stepping over to plant a soft kiss on Grogu’s forehead before turning your gaze to Din, giving the man a weak smile as he rises from the bed too. The two of you quietly stepping out of the room and towards the living area.

You sit down at the soft sofa, Din sitting down in one of the comfortable arm chairs. A silence falling over you as you both seem to be occupied with your own thoughts.

After Din had found you and Grogu at the bazaar he had taken you out to one of the nicer places to eat in the city. Fancy, but not too fancy to bring a kid. Din had, of course, not been eating, but you had made sure to get some food back with you to the house that he ate while you were out in the backyard playing with Grogu, giving him privacy to take off his helmet. He might have taken off his helmet that time for Grogu, and now is an apostate for it, but he still follows the creed.

It had been a good evening, one you wished you would have many more of, but that just seems like wishful thinking, but Din had been very quiet. Not that he has ever been a huge chatterbox or anything, but he had been quiet even for his standards. You can’t help but wonder if something is wrong, now that you also sit in silence here.

“Din?”

“Hmm?”

“You are being awfully quiet tonight, anything on your mind?” You ask in a low voice, close to a whisper, feeling a little unsure if you should even ask him this.

“Oh, Karga just said some things to me. I don’t know, I guess it just made me get stuck in my own thoughts, I’m sorry about that.” He says with a slight shake of his helmet.

You open your mouth to answer but he continues before you get to say anything.

“Do… Do you like it here?” His voice is softer than normal and slightly shaky.

“Here on Nevarro?” You ask a little confused, mirroring his soft tone.

“Yeah, here on Nevarro… Wo-would this be the kind of place you could see yourself live in?”

“If I was living in a house like this? Absolutely!” You grin at him, but Din doesn’t seem to be in on the joke, his shoulders tense as he fidgets with the leather of his gloves.

“Well, Karga he… he offered it to me, the house here... Well, to us. To uhm, to stay.” He adds.

Us… Could he mean? Your stomach does a flip until you realise what he means by ‘us’. Him and Grogu, of course, the clan of two. You look over at him, offering him a weak smile as you imagine it for a second, Din and Grogu living in a place like this, the warm blanket of domesticity covering them.

“That sounds nice.” You say, giving him a little smile. It really would be nice for them to have a quiet life, but you know that it is never going to happen. That isn’t the life of a Mandalorian.

“Yo-you really think so?” He sounds startled and you can’t help but giggle softly at him.

“Well, yeah, of course. I can imagine you preparing lunches for Grogu in the morning, lots of meriloons for snacks, of course, and then taking him to school.” You say with a playful smile on your lips, remembering Karga’s comment about the new school they had built. “And, all the other kids thinking Grogu has the coolest dad ever with all that beskar.” You laugh softly at your little fantasy.

“So I would be a cool dad, huh?” He finally chuckles along with you.

“Oh, yeah. The coolest.” You nod. “How many other parents wield the dark sabre?” You snicker.

“No one, I guess.” He chuckles again and, kriff, how you love the sound of it.

“Oh, and you would bake for all of the bake sales, obviously!”

“Pff, of course, I would!” He plays along. “I would bake all the pika cakes needed. Hell, the little one gets them for free.” He says, nodding his head in the direction of the kitchen where the bag with the fruits Grogu was gifted at the market lies. “But you would have to help me taste test them, make sure that we come with the best cakes. Can’t lose my cool dad status because I’m being outshined by another parent with better baking skills.”

Wait is he saying that you would be there too, in this hypothetical scenario?!

“Would I?” Your tone has lost all the playfulness from before, now low and unsure but also hopeful.

He stiffens, shoulders getting tense again. “Wouldn’t you?” His voice is now soft and a little shaky through the modulator.

You can’t believe the direction the conversation has taken. “I guess I would if you want me to.” You confess.

“I do. I really want you to.” He whispers your name. The visor of his helmet trained on you and you know that he is looking directly into your eyes. “I would want that. I never thought I could have that, but with you… With you and Grogu, that is all I want.”

“Din I…” You feel how warm tears are slowly falling down your cheeks now. “I want that too. I want you.” You get up from the sofa and he rises from his chair, the two of you slowly approaching each other until you stand with only a few inches between you.

“I don’t want to go to Mandalore, not anymore.” He whispers. “I don’t…” He takes a shaky breath, like he is getting ready to tell an earth-shattering secret. “I don’t mind being an apostate.”

“Din are you sure you don’t want to go..?” You can’t believe his words. You are happy, of course you are, but this is his creed, his life, his whole identity. You need him to be sure.

He doesn’t answer you, just standing still in front of you, like a statue. You start to think that he might have regretted telling you this, that he is realising that he does want to go to Mandalore and that he just got caught in the moment for a second, but then he moves. It is like everything is going in slow motion, it takes you a second to realise what he is doing as he brings his hands up to the side of his helmet, a loud hiss sounding through the room before he removes the beskar from his head.

A little gasp escapes your mouth as you take in the sight of his unhelmed face. You are met by a pair of the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen, tender and bright, like the twin suns on the planet you grew up on. His hair, that is slightly mussed from the helmet, is a deep brown which matches the colour of his eyes. Dark stubbles are adorning his jaw and a trimmed moustache is framing his upper lip and you notice how soft, how kissable they look. There is no doubt in your heart as you stare into the his eyes, this is the man you love, reaching your hand out to softly cup his cheek, making sure to not make contact with his skin until he lean against your hand himself, not wanting to overwhelm him if he isn’t ready for your touch yet, but he does lean in, letting out a little gasp as your palm gently cups his cheek.

“Hi.” You whisper, finally breaking the silence.

“Hi.” He echoes as your palm rests against his bare skin, fingers slowly brushing over the stubbles of his cheek. A faint, sheepish smile on his lips and a slightly unsure look in his eyes, clearly not used to being looked at and not knowing how to react to your gaze without his helmet. He has nothing to be shy about though. He is so gorgeous and you are gonna let him now.

“Din, you are beautiful.”

He doesn’t answer, still taken in the feeling of being touched without the armour. You let him take all the time that he needs and a little while goes by before he finally breaks the silence.

“I kind of want to kiss you, cyar’ika.” He confesses, voice barely more than a whisper.

“You can.” You tell him your voice is soft, a mellow smile on your lips as you stare into the deep umber of his eyes. He nods slightly, giving himself a moment to let the idea of finally being able to kiss you sink in, you don’t rush him, letting him do it in his own tempo.

“I-I’ve never kissed anyone before.” The words are coming out soft and shaky, almost apologetic, as he confesses this to you. It doesn’t surprise you, it must be incredibly nerve wracking for him, after so many years behind the helmet, standing bare and exposed in front of another human being. It makes sense that he never has kissed anyone before considering the creed he has lived by. You can’t help but feel a little giddy by the idea of being the one to give him his first kiss, a soft and loving gift he can carry with him forever.

“Din, that’s okay.” You reassure him before adding with a slightly cheeky grin. “It’s not like I mind teaching you.” This makes him smile too, letting out a low sound, the ghost of a laugh, you have heard that sound before but never without the modulator of his helmet and you feel your heart flutter warmly.

“I’m glad you don’t.” He whispers gratefully as he begins to lean in closer until your lips meet in a soft, sweet kiss. His hands moves up to cradle your face, gently cupping your cheeks with his broad hands. You hum content into the kiss, your lips moving slowly in sync, a part of you wants to deepen the kiss letting your tongue explore his mouth but you hold yourself back, this will hopefully be the first kiss of many and you want this one to be sweet and soft and not overwhelm him.

You finally have to pull away to catch your breath, finding those beautiful eyes of his that you have already fallen completely for.

“I love you.” You whisper into the quietness and he smiles at you, the prettiest smile in the galaxy, before leaning in to capture your lips in another kiss.

“I love you too.” He mutters against your lips. “I have for a while.”

You let out a choked gasp, not believing that this is really happening, that Din really loves you too.

“I think I’m ready for something new.” He tells you softly, placing a sweet kiss on the top of your head before resting his forehead against yours. “A new beginning right here with you.”

“That sounds good.” You smile. “But I think you might have to kiss me again, as your official taste tester I need another sample.”

He lets out a low laugh before kissing you again. A kiss that tastes like the beginning of something beautiful.

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