#din djarin x reader one bed

[danaewrites]

Helmet Over Heels

part iv: hooked on a feeling

din djarin x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 5.7k

summary:  When your path literally collides with a beskar-covered Mandalorian one night, neither of you expect how that meeting will irreversibly change the trajectory of your lives. 

You’re pulled into his powerful orbit, agreeing to take care of his son in exchange for adventure and freedom– when he’s not off hunting bounties and inadvertently saving villages in need, that is. It’s the perfect plan. Or it would be, if only your quiet crush on the man would stop growing into something more with every hour you spend together. There’s no way he’d ever feel the same, right?

And Din? Well, he’s been trying (and failing) to convince himself that he’s not completely helmet over heels for you since day one. But a Mandalorian can only repress his emotions for so long…

(This fic takes place sometime after Season 2. Din’s back on his bounty-hunting business with a Razor Crest that was never destroyed and an adorable green sidekick who won’t stop chewing on its wires.)

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, slow-ish burn, nicknames, touch-starved din djarin and fem!reader, canon-compliant through season 2 and then Jesus takes the wheel :P

author's notes:

this chapter officially marks the beginning of the *main* plot arc. if you’ve stuck with me this far, please accept my endless gratitude and know that things are about to get exponentially more interesting ;)

p.s. if you want faster updates, my ao3 readers usually get new chapters a week earlier than the tumblrinas <3

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v coming soon!

Weeks passed, and you settled into a routine on the Crest with unexpected ease. You split your days between caring for Grogu—which consisted mostly of cooing enthusiastically at his crayon scribbles and soothing his tired cries until he fell asleep—and testing out which recipes garnered the best reactions from his stoic father. On a particularly busy morning, you’d left a tray of rolls in the oven for too long and didn’t notice the smoke until Mando burst through the doorway in a panic. That was definitely a reaction, though not quite the one you’d been hoping for. And a rather expensive one, too, since he’d broken the automatic closing mechanism with the force of his entry. 

But your nights… the best of your nights were spent in the passenger seat of the cockpit, eyes tracing an endless path through hyperspace until you drifted off to the sound of breaths under beskar. You’d bought enough blankets in Nevarro to stay comfortable in the leather seat, although you still woke up to find Mando’s cloak draped over you when the icy chill of deep space permeated the ship. On a good night, one where he’d returned quickly from a hunt and had energy to spare on conversation, you’d punctuate the quiet with the occasional question. They ranged from serious—whether he’d been born Mandalorian (no), why his beskar was so important (forging and wearing the sacred metal was an essential part of the Mandalorian Creed)— to absurd. 

He’d been rather bemused when you asked him what his favorite flavor of sprinkles was, but you remained stubbornly tethered to your position that questions like those were quite important when judging someone’s character. That was, as long as the interviewee had an actual answer. Apparently, growing up in a hidden Mandalorian covert limited one’s interaction with dessert toppings.

And to your surprise, he returned the gesture. You’d stumbled into the cockpit late one night, wide–eyed and restless. Grogu had been particularly fussy that day, and you’d assumed that the exhausting effort you put in would shuttle you straight to dreamland. Instead, you found yourself tossing and turning for hours in the soft nest of blankets Mando had previously arranged into a makeshift bed for you. So you’d quietly climbed out of the hull, hoping to find some rest under the stars—or at least allow their muted glow to numb your racing thoughts. 

He’d silently acknowledged your arrival by unclasping his cloak and tossing it onto your lap. You’d mumbled a soft “thank you,” simultaneously embarrassed that he knew you preferred it to a blanket and pleased at the attentive gesture. At least he didn’t know why you liked the charcoal fabric so much, you reasoned. Your hand found the button that released the backrest, and you exhaled softly as your torso dipped backwards with the seat. You curled up underneath the cloak, letting its heavy weight slowly subdue your tense muscles into a more comfortable position. 

“I never thanked you for what you did at the cantina.” Mando’s baritone broke through the quiet, low and soothing.

You blinked, gaze traveling from the shooting stars above you to his silver outline in the pilot’s seat. “You don’t need to,” you insisted, but his posture remained stiffly tense.

“I was out of vambrace fuel that day,” he admitted. “Without the alcohol, I wouldn’t have been able to use the flamethrower. And my blaster charges were… limited.” He was silent for several long moments, then spoke roughly. “Without you, I—wouldn’t have made it back to the kid for a while.”

Your heart softened at the way he clearly struggled to get out the words. “You would have figured it out,” you murmured, the sides of your mouth curving up into a small smile. “I mean, my next step was to start chucking spotchka bottles at their scaly faces. I’m sure Mandalorians are trained to use more complex fighting moves.”

At that, he released a wry, surprised huff of a laugh that warmed the atmosphere of the small cockpit and set butterflies alight in your stomach. You scrunched your face up and yawned, choosing to ignore that particular feeling. Slowly, the comfortable silence relaxed you into a peaceful, half–drowsy state. Minutes ticked by in the blur of hyperspace, and then—

“Have you always lived on Nath?”

You glanced over, surprised that he was still initiating conversation. “No, I’m from Odala,” you spoke softly, the word dropping off your tongue like a bittersweet hymn. You watched his gloved hands pause their track across the control panel, his silver helmet tilting ever–so–slightly towards you. 

“Odala,” he repeated. “Isn’t that planet—”

“Destroyed?” You sucked in a breath, wincing as memories rushing through your brain in a flood of sudden pain. “Yeah. By the glory of Imperial superlasers, as if the plague the soldiers brought wasn’t devastating enough.” You looked down at your hands, embarrassed by the sarcastic outburst.

“I just miss it. So much,” you spoke, half–whispering the words. “My family had a workshop there—we crafted music boxes, radios, metal instruments. Four generations of art, wiped out in an instant.”

Mando remained silent, but his posture was attentive—a quiet invitation to continue. 

“I tried to help as much as I could when it all fell apart. Working in the med tents, sending tools from our shop to the rebels. None of it was enough. My mother sold her wedding ring to get me passage on the last cargo freighter to Corellia, a day before the bombing started.” 

You sniffed, trying desperately to regain control of the floodgates that threatened to spill over from behind your eyelids. “I had cousins, as close as siblings, and I just—left them all behind. Didn’t even make it to Corellia before the pilot kicked me off the ship.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” His tone was gentle, but the words were firm. You started to shake your head, but he stopped you, turning fully to face you. 

“You did everything you could. Your family would be proud that you survived.”

At that, your face crumpled. You pressed it into the cloak to hide the silent tears that streaked down your cheeks at his words, saltwater soured by years of pent–up feeling. You never thought you’d reveal those parts of your past to anyone, let alone a man whose face you’d never seen. Somehow, though, his quiet presence grounded you, allowing the waves of your grief to wash over you and slowly recede with your pain. 

You finally looked up to see Mando’s head bowed, his deep baritone echoing an unfamiliar language. “O’r ibic aay’han, ni partaylir gar.”

“What does that mean?” You asked softly, hands twisting the cloak in your lap. 

He straightened, helmet tilting towards you. “In this time of mourning, I remember you,” he repeated, voice stronger but still reverent. “It is how Mandalorians honor the warriors who have gone before us.”

“This is the Way,” you whispered, and he made a small noise of surprise in the back of throat before affirming your statement. 

“This is the Way.”

***

You touched down on Vati in the early hours of the morning, stirred from dreamless sleep by the gentle thump of the Crest hitting the terrain. When you opened your eyes, Mando was gone, but the unmistakable sound of the boarding ramp unlatching echoed up to the cockpit. Curiosity fueled your careful movements as you climbed down into the hull. When you finally stepped out of the ship onto unfamiliar, bluish dirt, your eyes widened with dazed surprise at the sight before you. 

Giant, puffy clouds hovered low in the purple–tinged sky, low enough that it felt like you could touch them if you stood on top of the Crest. The land that stretched out before you was barren of trees, dotted instead with thick bushes and tall grasses that waved in the cool morning wind. And to your right—twin suns peeked out from the horizon, piercing the clouds with dazzling beams of pink and orange. 

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured with awe, head tipping back as you took in the wide, brilliant expanse of the sky. 

“Mesh’la.” You whirled around to see Mando standing behind you, helmet turning from the majestic landscape towards you. Your confusion at the unfamiliar phrase must have been painted across your face, as plain as the wisteria stripes on the bush next to you. He coughed self-consciously, then muttered, “That’s—it means beautiful, in Mando’a.” 

Your face lit up with understanding, and you slowly repeated the word. Your pronunciation was nowhere near the way it’d rolled off his tongue, somehow sounding both fierce and tender, but he nodded. 

“Quick learner,” he hummed approvingly, and stars, now was absolutely not the time for that feeling curling up in your belly to appear at his praise. 

You placed your hands on your hips, turning around before your flushed face could betray you. An idea sparked to life in your mind as you surveyed the majestic landscape. You bent down and snapped a twig off of a bush near your feet, bringing it up to your face. You rolled it around in your palm for a moment, testing for moisture. When none revealed itself, you shot a bright grin at Mando over your shoulder. 

“Want to try something fun?”

Twenty minutes later, you had a fire crackling and a scuffed pan suspended over it on a makeshift tripod. You handed Grogu a pile of branches, showing him how to select the ones that would make the best fuel and carefully toss them into the fire. It was a work in progress; he wasn’t as interested in the twigs as he was the ruby flames, and you had to keep snatching him back before his tiny green hands could get burned. You’d assigned Mando the job of stirring the batter—a surprise, you’d told him. You weren’t sure whether he was the sort of man who’d be too macho to eat something you’d named Pancake Sprinklesplosion as a child, so you figured the mystery might be a good idea. 

When you’d finished flipping the blue bantha–milk pancakes over the fire, you set a towering stack next to the three precious sprinkle jars you’d bought in Nevarro. You fixed the beskar–clad warrior with an expectant beam, pointing to each of the containers in quick succession. 

“Chocolate. Caramel. Rainbow. The three pillars of dessert decoration,” you explained, clasping your hands together with a determined gleam in your eyes. “Prepare for your shiny mind to be blown, metal man.” 

Mando’s helmet tilted slowly towards the jars, then back up at you. “Am I… supposed to eat them?” 

You gaped at him, seriously considering whether you needed to check him for a concussion. The armored man seemed to pick up on your train of thought and cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“It’s just the, uh,” he gestured to his helmet. Your eyes widened again, this time in embarrassment. 

“I’m so sorry, I forgot! I can…go inside, if you want? With the kid?”

Mando hesitated for a few long moments, then shook his head. “No, just—turn around. I’ll do the same.” 

You bit your lip nervously, thinking of all the ways you could mess this up. Kriff, what if the kid twisted around before you could stop him—

“I trust you,” he added, interrupting your panicked train of thought. The sincerity of his tone was enough to settle your nerves into firm determination. Not on your life would you do anything to break his Creed. 

You sighed. “Alright, then.”

You turned around, bending down to strap the kid into his floating crib and sit down on a nearby log with your own plate. You heard shuffling, the melodic clinking of beskar on beskar, and then—a pressurized hiss that made your heart skip a beat. You kept your eyes trained on your pancakes, only glancing to the side to make sure that Grogu hadn’t climbed out of his pod to go looking for amphibious snacks. You didn’t plan on moving from his view for a moment. If the green child thought he had a chance to waddle away on a frog hunt, he’d take it, consequences be damned.

A few minutes passed, and the silence became suffocating. You cleared your throat nervously. 

“Mando? Are you… okay back there?”

“It’s been a while since I saw the sky like this.” He confessed, and stars. Without his modulator, his baritone was richer, deeper—somehow more warm than you’d imagined. You choked on a bite of your pancake. Apparently, your body was either going to make you acknowledge your not–so–little crush or asphyxiate trying. 

“Take your time,” you gasped out, trying not to alert him to the fact that you were currently losing oxygen from the effect he had on you. Kriff, this was embarrassing.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? You thought you’d get over your initial attraction once you became more familiar with him, once you’d knocked him off that shiny silver pedestal in your mind. Yet somehow, the closer you grew to the man, the more you felt a breathless tug in your stomach at his presence. You watched him: interacting gently with Grogu, piloting the ship with an air of assured control, even sacrificing a much–needed storage closet so you’d have a place to rest outside of the cockpit. 

You felt... Safe. Protected, for the first time in your life. It made your heart ache with a strange mix of yearning and contentment, as if having everything you’d ever dreamed of had only encouraged you to search for more.

To your relief, he didn’t seem to notice your internal distress, and you heard the familiar scrape of cutlery against his plate after a few minutes. You settled into a more comfortable position against the log, your head tipping back to watch strange, elongated birds swirl against the painted canvas of the sky. You were lucky to have landed on Vati at the break of dawn—its twin suns would produce an almost unbearable heat during the peak of the afternoon, but the way their soft warmth kissed your skin right now was exactly what you needed. You closed your eyes, letting your chest rise and fall with the rhythm of the wind that ruffled the tall grasses. How long had it been since you’d had the chance to just breathe? Life on Nath had been cold and chaotic, but now you felt at peace—ready for whatever adventure the ship might take you to next.

Grogu’s stomach suddenly gurgled loudly. You glanced over to see that he had somehow gotten ahold of your remaining pancakes, those big, dark eyes staring guiltily at you as he gulped down the last of your breakfast. You sighed as he suddenly looked uncomfortable, his wrinkled face scrunching up in an expression you’d seen very, very often in the last few weeks. Apparently, that next adventure would be changing diapers.

“Not to rush you, metal man, but I think the kid’s going to need the ‘fresher soon,” you called out behind you. 

Your armored companion grunted in acknowledgement, and you heard him stand up behind you. You waited patiently, covering your vision with both hands until you felt him gently tap your shoulder. Your eyes flew open at the touch, and you found the Mandalorian standing in front of you—helmet back in place, as if it had never been moved. You wondered if it was hard for him to put it back on. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal, since he’d been wearing it for most of his life. But something about the way the beskar settled on his shoulders now just seemed… heavier. 

Your gaze trailed down to where his empty plate and the sprinkle jars sat, the latter looking significantly lighter than they were when you’d handed them to him. You gave a delighted wolf–whistle when you noticed how the container with chocolate sprinkles was barely half full.

“Who would’ve guessed that the big, scary Mandalorian has a sweet tooth,” you teased, grinning up at his broad figure. “Stars, at this rate you might get a stomach ache worse than the kid’s!” 

He shrugged in a cocky motion that had no right to be as endearing as it was. You wiped your hands on the faded overalls you’d bought in Nevarro, bending to pick up Grogu before he could make himself sick with more food. You wrinkled your nose when the mischievous green child burped—how the kriff did he make those so nostril–burning? Clearly, his cuteness was a necessary evolutionary mechanism, because no one in their right mind would volunteer to wipe his wrinkly butt for fifty years straight otherwise. 

“Okay, that’s my cue to take this guy inside.” You sighed, surveying the messy remains of your picnic. “Sorry, I’ll be right back to get this packed up—”

Mando interrupted you, shaking his head. “I’ll take care of it. You have enough to handle already,” he insisted, gesturing at the squirming child in your arms. 

He gently nudged you aside and began picking up the dishware that had somehow gotten scattered across the sandy terrain. Your heart warmed at the sweet, unexpectedly domestic action, and you shot him a grateful smile. As you made your way up the boarding ramp, you heard Mando swear under his breath. Then, louder, he called out your name.

“Don’t let him near the cockpit—he puked blue cookies all over it last time, made a hell of a mess to clean up—”

You looked down at the pouty child in your arms suspiciously. “Bantha milk doesn’t go down too well for you, huh?” You turned back to his armored father, an angelic expression on your face as you shifted the kid to your other hip. “Sorry, I can't hear you!” You sang out, sweet as a sprinkle. “Leave him in the pilot’s seat unattended? Sounds great to me,” you beamed, whirling on your heel.

The sound of Mando’s exasperated groan of laughter echoed your steps all the way back into the hull.

***

Somehow, without realizing it, you’d started singing again. 

The girl you’d been before the war—the one who’d so loved the ballads the elders cried out during festivals, each note a fragmented burst of joy—she was slowly thawing, emerging from the icy burial you’d unceremoniously given her on Nath. A soft melody while you showered, an old Odalian lullaby when you tucked Grogu into his hammock… your whirlwind infatuation with music was beginning to sweep you off your feet once again, almost frightening you with how intensely it begged to be acknowledged. 

Like all good things in your life these days, it was Mando’s fault.

You’d been laying on the floor, Grogu blowing raspberries at a nearby sparking wire for your entertainment, when he descended from the cockpit with a mysterious bag in hand. You watched him unfold a panel from the ship’s wall to reveal a surprisingly well–crafted workbench. When he’d started to peel off his beskar chestplate, your hands flew to cover your eyes in a panic. You tried to reach out blindly to cover Grogu’s vision, too, but yelped when your hand hit a sharp corner of the hull instead.

“Son of a porg–kissing nerf herder,” you groaned, rubbing the sore spot. You kept your eyes scrunched tightly shut as heavy boots stepped closer to you, then paused.   

“What are you doing?” Your shiny companion sounded completely baffled by your antics. You winced, wishing that you had a Mandalorian etiquette book handy—a thought that had recurred in your thoughts more frequently as of late. 

“Am I… allowed to look? When you take off your armor?” 

You couldn’t see his expression, but you would bet good credits that his eyebrows were raised behind that silver helmet. “Yes. It is the revealing of our faces that goes against the Creed.” 

“Oh,” you muttered, face red as a Tatooine sunset. You dusted yourself off and stood up awkwardly, trying to regain a bit of dignity as Mando resumed his careful disrobing of the beskar. 

After a few moments, he added, “It’ll be your fault if his first word is ‘kriff’, you know.” His tone was deceptively even, but you sensed the undercurrent of amusement that ran through it.

You shot him a look. “Says you, Mister ‘Dank Ferrik’. At least if this career path doesn’t work out, I can always go be a pirate,” you sniffed. You picked up a fine red cloth that he’d set on the edge of the workbench, curiosity overtaking your embarrassment. “What’s this used for?”

He wordlessly motioned for you to place the unusual fabric in his hand, and you obeyed. You watched as he spun the cloth in an unfamiliar, geometric pattern across the metal of his chestplate, leaving a polished silver trail in its wake. The side of your mouth curved up. “So that’s why you never looked scuffed up when you came into the cantina.” 

He nodded, then walked over to the other end of the hull. You watched his retreating form begin to sort through the supplies in the armory for a moment before your attention was drawn back to the beskar. It shimmered a strange color in the light, like the reflection of the fuel puddles that dripped beneath the Crest. You extended a tentative fingertip and gently flicked the silvery metal, eyes widening when it vibrated with a melodic echo. You hummed softly, trying to replicate its pitch. 

Suddenly, an idea struck you. You glanced over at Mando—he was still working, seemingly consumed by the arduous task of reloading his ammo. You carefully picked up his pauldron and tapped it against the side of the chestplate. A clear, proud note rang out, albeit much louder than you’d expected. Your face broke into a delighted smile at the sound, reminded of the wind chimes your mother had hung above your cottage door.

“Having fun?”

You startled, turning around to see the tall man leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, observing your little experiment. Your face heated as he pushed off the hull and walked towards you. He nodded at the glimmering plate in your hands. 

“You are not the first to appreciate the sound of beskar. It is traditional for each Mandalorian clan to have a warrior who plays the bes’bev, the sacred war–flute.”

You peered up at him curiously. “I thought beskar was only to be forged into weapons or armor.”

He tilted his helmet in acknowledgement. “Yes. The end of the bes’bev is sharpened to double as a long knife.”

You carefully set his pauldron down on the cloth with a thoughtful hum. Stars, your grandfather would have been instantly inspired by the musical weapon. The workshop would’ve been full of prototypes within a few days at most, a meticulously crafted instrument in your hands within the week. It had been too long since you’d so much as whispered a tune, you realized with a start. Perhaps it was time to start reconnecting with your once–beloved hobby.

Suddenly, your ears perked up with apprehension. The ship was quiet. Too quiet. You scanned the area, a feeling of dread creeping up on you as you realized what was missing—

The room suddenly lurched, sending you flying into the side of the hull. Your hands grasped for purchase on the edge of the workbench, but just as you were about to pull yourself up, the ship spun again and your ankle twisted beneath you with a violent snap. You gritted your teeth, trying your best to ignore the sudden shoot of pain up your leg. 

“The kid,” you breathed, Mando seemingly coming to the same realization. He swore loudly and fumbled his way to the ladder, narrowly avoiding slamming into the workbench. You slid across the floor, hoisting yourself up onto the ladder after him with a wince. When you finally entered the cockpit, he’d already crossed the room in two quick strides, snatching Grogu up from the control panel. But the damage had already been done—the ship shuddered once, twice, then abruptly dropped out of hyperspace with a dull roar. Mando tossed the misbehaving green child to you, and you quickly buckled him into his seat with a stern look. 

“What’d he do?” You called out from the back of the cockpit, frantically trying to make sense of the flashing lights near the door.

“Don’t know,” he yelled back, voice barely audible over the sound of the sputtering engine. “Damn it—asteroid field coming up, get ready—”

You paled, whipping around so fast you might have broken something in your neck. “Did you just say asteroid field?”

But it was too late for him to respond, as the intimidatingly large space rocks spun closer and closer to the Crest’s glass panelling. You scrambled to strap yourself into the second passenger seat as Mando skillfully piloted the ship through the dangerous patch of space. You didn’t understand how he did it—it was like he knew where an asteroid would appear before it even flickered on the radar screen. He’d grown quiet, gloved hands moving smoothly across the controls like he was locked in a dance with the machinery. 

Yet despite his best efforts, he couldn’t predict every meteorite. You breathed a sigh of relief when a burnt–sienna planet came into view, signaling what you assumed was the end of the asteroid field. But right when you had started to relax back into your seat, a fragment of rock broke off from a passing meteorite and slammed into the side of the Crest, sending it spinning on its side through the field. A gasp escaped your mouth at the impact, your arm reaching out to hold onto Grogu as the ship hung upside–down. 

“New plan,” Mando muttered, flicking a series of switches on the transmitter. A squeaky voice crackled to life over the comm. “You have entered airspace under control of the Mos Eisley Spaceport. Please state your reason for—”

“Engine failure, requesting immediate emergency landing,” he interrupted, doing his best to balance the ship as it hurtled towards the surface of the planet. 

The voice paused, then continued, sounding more annoyed this time. “Request denied until further information has been given—” 

Mando scoffed in frustration, punching the button to end the transmission. He guided the shaking ship through Tatooine’s heated atmosphere, just barely regaining control of it before it crashed into the open hangar. You waited for him to carefully stand up before rushing over to Grogu, checking the small green baby for any injuries. Seeing none, you gathered him up into your arms with relief, but not before sending him a look that promised a very serious scolding in the near future. 

You followed Mando down the ladder, but you couldn’t contain a tiny whimper of pain when your injured ankle hit the rungs. You closed your eyes, steeling yourself against the throbbing feeling, and slowly continued your downward climb. When you reached the ground, you found Mando staring at you. Oops.

You shot him a bright smile, praying that he’d buy your cheerful act until you had time to fix your injury on your own. You thought he might have been about to say something—but the moment was interrupted by the sound of the boarding ramp hissing open, clouds of steam obscuring the entrance to the hull. He immediately stepped in front of you and the kid, hand poised on his blaster. When the dust settled, a short figure with wild, curly hair appeared, soot-covered hands reaching up to pop off dusty welding goggles. The woman gave an impressed whistle at the sight of Mando, spreading her hands wide.

“Phew, what an entrance!”

***

Peli Motto was not someone who lacked personality. She kept up an incessant stream of chatter as you subtly limped into the hangar, commenting on everything from the smoke pouring out of the Crest’s left engine to the ineffectiveness of her droids. She’d eagerly stretched out her hands to hold Grogu when you first stepped off the ship—a request that made you nervously look to Mando for approval before granting it. She was certainly one of the odder characters you’d met so far in your travels, but she seemed to hold genuine care for the kid beneath all that boisterous energy, and that was good enough for you. 

“I gotta say, Mando, when I saw your ship crash into my hangar, I thought there was a good chance you’d died trying to pilot the damn thing.” She shook her head incredulously. “Musta been quite the asteroid field,” she muttered as she surveyed the damage to the ship. 

“How much will the repairs cost?”

She made an exaggerated walk around the outside of the ship’s hull. “Hmm.. the wiring here’s toast, the engine repair’ll cost me a few good tools, and—kriff, it’s not even legal to fly with a stabilizer this outdated!” She paused, giving the Crest a final once-over. “Seven hundred credits.”

Mando scoffed. “Seven hundred? Even a Jawa wouldn’t charge that much.”

Peli shrugged, unbothered. “Take it or leave it. No discounts, even for cute little womp rats like this one,” she spoke, ruffling the wiry hairs on the kid’s head. 

Mando grumbled under his breath, but reluctantly dropped the money into Peli’s eager hands. He turned to head back up the boarding ramp, but she stopped him. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where do you think you’re going? My droids need to work on that overnight, unless you wanna pay for an extended stay,” she exclaimed. 

Mando crossed his arms. “And we need to sleep overnight. I’m not making them—” he jerked a gloved hand towards you and the kid—“stay outside in the hangar.”

Peli brushed aside his annoyed tone with a wave of her hand. “Ah, I have a spare room in the back. A bit dusty, but I suppose you can use it.” She shrugged. 

“There’s only one bed, but I assume that won’t be a problem, considering…” she waggled her eyebrows at the two of you, and your face heated at the assumption. 

“We’re not—” you started, unintentionally speaking in unison with Mando. You glanced over to the tall man, making awkward eye contact for several long seconds before he sighed and turned back to Peli. 

“Fine. But I’m not handing over another bag of credits,” he warned. The smaller woman rolled her eyes, but acquiesced.

You made your way to the tiny room, slumping against the speckled wall with exhaustion. You bent down and inspected your ankle, wincing, as you tried to remember where you’d stored the last of the bacta spray. First the scrape on your cheek from the Tradoshan’s claws, and now this—apparently, you really couldn’t catch a break when it came to needing medical attention.

You heard a sudden noise and turned, only to see Mando paused in the doorway—his gaze trained on the bruise already forming on your ankle. Kriff.

“You’re injured,” he stated, his deep baritone sounding strangely frustrated. 

You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him that it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle (a lie—it hurt worse than the time you’d accidentally pressed your palm onto the hot cantina stove), but he’d already left. He returned before you had the chance to question his disappearance, carrying a scratched black case under one beskar-clad arm. 

“Sit on the bed.” His tone brokered no room for argument. You gingerly limped over to the old mattress, fighting back a sneeze when dust puffed up from the sheets. Mando clicked open the medkit and began sorting through the supplies. 

“I can do it,” you spoke softly, but he tugged the case away from your outstretched hand.

“I know.” He found a small packet of bacta gel and motioned for you to hold out your ankle, carefully dabbing the tincture onto your aching skin with a cotton pad. 

Minutes passed as you waited for the cool gel to dry. The silence became suffocating—the armored man seemed angry about something, and you hoped to Maker that it wasn’t you. 

“I’m sorry,” he spoke suddenly. Your eyes widened. Of all the things you were expecting him to say, that wasn’t anywhere on the list. You had a feeling that his apologies were rarer than the beskar he wore, especially when they were spoken with this much sincerity.

“You shouldn’t have gotten hurt—at the cantina, or back on the ship. I… understand, if you feel that this is too much to handle.” He crouched down, wrapping a rolled-up bandage around your ankle.

You shook your head incredulously. “It was my fault that Grogu was left unsupervised,” you began. “It’s my job to make sure he doesn’t get into trouble. If anything, you’d have every right to kick me out after today,” you muttered. 

At that, his helmet snapped up to meet your gaze. He sounded almost offended. “I wouldn’t just drop you off at the nearest outpost,” he scoffed. 

You blinked, feeling rather exposed. Somehow, he’d guessed the thing you were most terrified of happening on the first try. “Well, then I’m not leaving,” you replied. Your mouth curved up in a tiny smile, and you tried for some humor. “The kid’ll have to work harder if he wants to get rid of me, anyway.”

Just then, the door swung open. Peli stepped inside, cooing at a drowsy Grogu in her arms. 

“Hey, the little womp rat looks ready to go nighty–night!”

She paused, taking in your position—Mando’s hand on your ankle, you smiling down at him from your seat on the bed. You flushed bright red as you realized exactly what it looked like. 

Peli’s eyebrows raised as she eyed the two of you. “On second thought, he and I will just spend some bonding time together instead.” 

Mando shot to his feet. “That won’t be necessary,” he began, but Peli was already halfway out of the room. 

“Don’t forget to name the next one after me!” She called out, shooting you a wink over her shoulder as she slammed the door shut.

You both stayed frozen in place for a moment after the curly–haired woman’s departure. Eventually, Mando cleared his throat. 

“You take the bed. I’ll, ah…” he gestured awkwardly to the pile of throw pillows and scratchy blankets on the floor. You didn’t have it in you to argue, nodding mutely and desperately trying to avoid eye contact. He walked stiffly across the room to the light switch, cloaking the room in a blissful darkness that hid the crimson splotches of embarrassment on your cheeks.

You buried your face in your hands, praying that whatever deity was listening would take you now before you had to face Peli again in the morning.

taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @lilly-aliyah @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl @aheadfullofsteverogers @dindjarinsmut @orcasoul @maellem @pigeonmama

comment if you'd like to be tagged for any of my works/fandoms in the future! :)

read on: part v coming soon!

p.s. @djarins-cyare thanks for the extra motivation to build on my sprinkles idea!! your 'sweet' comment totally made my day and inspired a couple hundred extra words about the Pancake Sprinklesplosion TM <333

[livingbreathingdreams]

Bed-Sharing Fics 🧸

• JOEL MILLER • DIN DJARIN • FRANKIE MORALES • JACK DANIELS • DIETER BRAVO • BUCKY BARNES • CAPTAIN SYVERSON • HARRY STYLES •

🏕 Camping ⎮ 🌶 Spicy, consume at your own risk ⎮ 🌸 Slow burn [because I’m a sucker for endless buildup] ⎮ ⚪️ Friends to lovers ⎮ 🧡 Personal favorite

//

Joel Miller

❤︎ Sleeping Bag @quin-ns 🏕

❤︎ Rubbing your partner's back until they fall asleep @softlyspector

//

Din Djarin

❤︎ First time sleeping together @littleferal

//

Frankie Morales

❤︎ First time sleeping together @littleferal

//

Jack Daniels

❤︎ First time sleeping together @littleferal

//

Dieter Bravo

❤︎ warm up @ezrasbirdie

//

Bucky Barnes

❤︎ One Bed, Two Buddies @bucky-bucket-barnes ⚪️

❤︎ Bucky and The Bed @that-damn-girl 🌸⚪️ (a whole ass bed sharing series)

//

Captain Syverson

❤︎ sparse sleep @quietmyfearswith

❤︎ And there was only one bed @doll-r-t

❤︎ The Night of Many Firsts @delicate-moon-princess 🌶

//

Harry Styles

❤︎ Hey Angel @watchmegetobsessed 🌶🌸⚪️

❤︎ SLEEPLESS @watchmegetobsessed ⚪️🧡

❤︎ First night sleeping over @harrysfolklore

❤︎ changes @sunflowervolvimp3 🌶🌸⚪️🧡

❤︎ Pink Fairy Lights @kwritingbooks

❤︎ Residue @bopbopstyles 🏕🌶⚪️

❤︎ Perhaps the World Ends Here @iconicharry 🏕

❤︎ Only Human @tobesobri 🌸⚪️🧡 (another whole ass bed sharing series)

[wild-karrde]

I came across a really good Din fic in my for you page. It’s like trope cat nip; mutual pining, forced proximity, one bed, friends to lovers It’s wonderfully written and Din isn’t out of character in it either. It’s called Enkindle by @oscarseyebrow (https://at.tumblr.com/oscarseyebrow/enkindle/yvqskldra4nw)

OOOOOOOOOH this fic is checking a lot of my boxes. TROPE CAT NIP INDEED. I can't explain it, but I've always loved the forced proximity and/or one bed tropes with Din. Can't tell if it's just because he'd be THE MOST awkward (until... you know, he isn't), but I just LOVE fics like this.

I will absolutely have to check this out! Thanks so much for the rec!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[galactic-star-bruiser]

Killer

leave me alone, im on a Phoebe x mandalorian kick.

All Mando's POV. (f!reader)

talk of injuries, but nothing more. 

pining, and fluff

song: killer by Phoebe bridges

.,.,,.,.,,,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,,.,.,.,.,

Sometimes I think I'm a killer

I scared you in your house

I even scared myself by talkin'

About Dahmer on your couch

The way she watched me as I worked, her soft gaze tracing the way I moved over the weapons I was cleaning, the way she would leave clothes around the ship, and the way she listened to even the most gruesome stories I have.

It was somewhere between those times that I fell in love with her.

“Are we going?” She’d ask me excitedly, ready for any adventure. 

I did everything in my power not to give into her. 

She moved as if there was a flame beneath her. Wild, sprinting, flailing, yelling, and laughing.

She was a fighter. Brutal. Vicious. 

But when it was just us.... She was softer than anything I had ever known.

But I can't sleep next to a body

Even harmless in death

Plus, I'm pretty sure I'd miss you

And faking sleep to count your breath

The endless nightmares where she’d wake up screaming and find her self on a different part of the ship than the bunk she slept in, those screams broke me in ways I never knew anything could. 

Her innocence stripped with one heinous, tortured, scream. 

I’d always find her and walk her back to bed, careful not to touch her or linger too long. I knew I'd ask if she wanted me to stay with her if I did... God, did I want to stay with her. Hold her in my arms and protect her from the evils of the galaxy.

The way she gently cleaned my wounds, even be them just grazes to soft flesh, made my heart ache. 

Can the killer in me

Tame the fire in you?

Or is there nothin' left to do for us?

There were nights that I thought nothing would come of the small touches we shared, or the time that had elapsed since we started traveling together. 

The night of the fire.

I had went back to Peli for a repair before a fire broke out in the ship yard. I had never been terrified before this... not of the flames, but of finding her.

We stayed the night in a small, dingy hotel with a smell of mold that hung in the warm air. 

I sat on the end of the single bed with my head in my hands, scared of what was to become of my ship.

Her small hands reached to touch one of my armor clad shoulders, a sign of reassurance that only sent waves of electricity through my body.

I couldn’t help but think of the concern that washed over her face all the way to the hotel, never breaking the stare that she held against me. 

I watched her face as the innkeeper said he only had availability for one bed rooms. She just nodded in compliance. I was expecting a grimace. 

There was nothing in the world I wanted more than to touch her and to hold her against me. I wanted to feel her soft hands on my bare face, telling me everything was going to be alright.

I knew that would never happen for me. I was loyal to the creed even if it broke my heart.

I am sick of the chase

But I'm hungry for blood

And there's nothin' I can do

The only way that I knew to show my devotion and love for her was through protecting her... even if she could do it herself, it felt good to keep her safe. Keep her with me.

As I sat on the bed, she sat next to me, close enough so I could feel the heat radiating from her body.

“Are you hurt?” I asked. 

“No.” She answered too quickly. 

“Youre lying, let me see.”

She seemed too exhausted to fight with me and complied by lifting the back of her shirt over her shoulders and letting me examine the cracked, fire burnt, angry red skin of her back.

“Cyar’ika...”. The word tumbled out of my mouth and I could only hope that she didn’t know its meaning. I felt vulnerable, as if all of my armor had been stripped.

She winced as I spread the blue bacta across her back. It took a few minutes but I could feel the muscles in her back relax under my touch.

“Thank you... Din.” She whispered. The way she said my name made me want to cry.

“You can have the bed... you’re in pain” I said solemnly, making my way to the floor next to her. 

“Would you mind staying with me tonight?”

Her soft whisper wrapped its way around my throat and It made me unable to speak. I just laid beside her.

She traced the lines of my helmet and she was shaking.

“Youre safe now...” I whispered, scared to put my hands on her in fear of hurting her and breaking my own heart. I knew I couldn’t have her... even if I could, how could someone like her look into the eyes of a vicious killer like myself? Someone who constantly put her in danger and couldn't even kiss her?

“I know.” She answered back, making me smile softly even if she couldn’t see it. 

Can the killer in me

Tame the fire in you?

I know there's somethin' waiting for us

I am sick of the chase

But I'm stupid in love

And there's nothin' I can do

And there's nothin' I can do

[mellowswriting]

new perspective

pairing || Din Djarin x f!Reader

word count || 2.8k

summary || teaching the infamous Mandalorian to slow down and enjoy life isn't easy. it takes planning, patience - and silken sheets apparently.

content || SMUT, domesticity, simple pleasures, shower sex, sensual massages (i'm incorrigible), p in v sex, cowgirl position 🤠, slow sweet sex, post-orgasm planning for the future (this is din, after all)

a/n || i know, i know. i can hear it all now. "mel, where the fuck have you been???" celebrating my graduation and then immediately devolving into an existential crisis. but that's okay! not only have i figured out my direction in life, but i've returned with everyone's favorite topic: simping for Din Djarin.

Din Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Library Blog

Din Djarin is not a man who knows how to take his time. He’s a workhorse, constantly on the go from one job to the next. He simply never learned the skill of savoring the little things in life. A good meal, a hot shower, a full night’s rest, leisure time. All of those things are simply a stranger to him. Any pleasure he takes, usually at his own hand, is perfunctory at best, a release of tension for its own sake.

Until you.

It starts simple - a set of silken sheets that you bring onto the Crest. Din returns to find you sprawled out on the small bed you share with a sleepy smile that makes his chest feel funny. Your fingers fan out against the soft material.

“Come feel.” You murmur. He doesn’t hesitate to tug off the thick leather gloves and brush the fabric with the back of his fingers. You watch as his shoulders soften, his head tilting as he takes in the foreign feeling. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” He says contemplatively. “It’s soft.”

Your smile widens and you shift over, making room for your lover. “Join me?”

“In a bit,” Din promises. The chill of his beskar soaks into your skin as he presses his forehead to yours. His warm palm cups your cheek and he holds you there for a breath before pulling away. “I have some more work to do.”

It isn’t hard to convince him to strip down when he joins you later that night. He’s exhausted, body aching from a long day’s work. He lets you strip away his armor and flight suit until he’s left in his briefs. You’re used to him falling asleep the moment he collapses into bed - but tonight is different. His eyebrows raise in surprise when he relaxes back into the pillows, his fingers rubbing circles against new sheets. Din is a man of few words but it’s obvious how much he likes the new addition to the bedroom.

“Come here,” He whispers, beckoning you to join him. The tension melts from his body as you curl up against his side. He tilts your chin up and kisses you softly, a wordless offer of his thanks that you eagerly accept. Surrounded by the cool sheets and the woman he loves, he falls asleep within minutes. That morning, Din lingers in bed for those first drowsy moments after waking. He wakes you with a few gentle caresses of his hands over your shoulder and arm and a murmur of your name. He looks more rested than usual.

You make sure to buy matching pillowcases the next time you’re out.

With every passing day, Din learns how to slow down and savor the morning. It doesn’t take much to keep him in bed with you a little longer each morning - a few soft touches and sweet kisses, and Din sinks right back into your arms. He rubs his face into the crook of your neck and drifts in and out of sleep, practically purring with every brush of your fingers through his hair. His voice, so deep and rough first thing in the morning, rumbles low in his chest as he murmurs his love into your skin. It’s simple, this early morning peace the two of you share. So simple, but so important.

You slip into the shower with him one random evening. You can’t help it. He’s been gone for two days straight on a bounty hunt and you’ve missed him. His eyes light up with interest as they trail over your naked body, his hands finding your waist and tugging you against him. A shiver of desire arcs up your spine - but you didn’t come here to get fucked silly in the shower. Well, not yet at least. You loop your arms around his shoulders and press up on your toes to kiss him properly. Din groans against your lips, already moving to press you against the shower wall. A gentle tug on his hair is enough to stop him in his tracks.

“Can I wash your hair?” You ask, looking up at him like the picture of innocence.

Din blinks at you, confused. “You want to… wash my hair?”

“Yeah,” You say softly.

There’s no need to over-explain. The two of you have mastered this silent communication over the months you have spent together. He searches your face for a moment before his expression softens, implicit permission given in the way his eyes shine for you. You gently lather shampoo into his thick curls and let your nails drag along his scalp in the way he loves. His eyelashes flutter under your touch but his eyes don’t close. He’s too intent on watching you. The grip he has on your hips tightens as you work, little groans falling from his lips at the simple pleasure of your hands on his body.

He lets you maneuver him and tilt his head back into the water without a hint of resistance. For a man so used to keeping everyone at arm's length, the trust he holds for you is plain as day. His cock twitches against your belly as your fingers meticulously work the suds from his hair. The barest hint of your skin against his is enough to get him riled up, but this…? The press of your slick, bare body pressed against his? His body language begs for more. He leans into the press of your fingers and cants his hips forward, slowly grinding against you with stuttered breaths.

The moment the water runs clear, Din lifts you by your thighs and presses you against the cold shower wall. You can’t help but admire the bulge of his biceps as he leverages you up and nudges your entrance with the head of his cock, searching your face for permission. The hungry kiss you drag him into is all the permission he needs. A new rush of adrenaline seizes his body as he sinks into you. He fucks you hard and fast, pace faltering at the pure heaven of your body. He wedges his hand between your bodies and rubs insistent circles against your clit. He just knows your body too well - within minutes, those frantic bursts of pleasure built into a powerful orgasm that leaves you trembling and weak in his arms.

Din buries his face in the crook of your neck as he spills inside of you just seconds later. Every moan and panted breath echoes through the small shower. You shiver at the feeling of his lips pressed against your neck. He always knows just where to kiss and touch to leave you like putty in his hands. He goes willingly when you guide him in for a real kiss, lazy and slow as the water streams against you. Careful not to let you slip, he lowers you onto your feet and maneuvers you until the water pounds against your back.

You should have expected him to return the favor. Din doesn’t take no for an answer.

“It’s your turn.” He murmurs, too adamant and stubborn to be swayed. You’ve always loved that about him, even when it gives you grief.

You melt into his chest as he works product into your hair, his fingers massaging at your scalp in a way you didn’t even know you needed. Little sounds of satisfaction fall from your lips with every touch. Sometimes you forget just how big his hands are. He palms the back of your head and draws you close enough that your noses brush, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. He just watches you for a moment as he thoroughly washes your hair. He takes in the way you look up at him with an expression so full of love that he aches.

“I love you,” His voice is so low that it almost gets lost in the thrum of water, but you hear it. He can tell by the way your eyes light up, by the soft smile that curls your lips.

“I love you, too.” You whisper back. Din kisses you softly before tilting your head back and rinsing the suds from your hair.

Slowly but surely, you introduce Din to a life he never realized was possible. He learns how to revel in the attention and care you give him. He learns how to give it in return. His thoughts always return to you when he’s on a bounty, knowing he has to return to his little love waiting for him at his ship. Every now and then, he finds something to bring back to you - a little trinket, some sweets, a new book. You always look at him as if he’s placed the entire universe in the palm of your hands. Fuck, he would do it, too. Anything to see you so happy.

Din returns from a week-long bounty exhausted, sore, and with a little gift in hand. It’s just a new robe, something soft and airy for you to wear on those long nights in hyperspace. You gasp softly when he hands it to you, your fingers exploring the silky fabric as if it’s precious - and to you, it is. Not because it’s some rare or expensive treasure. Just because it comes from him.

Allowing you to remove his armor is as easy as breathing. He eagerly accepts every touch and kiss you give him, more than happy to let you do as you please. You set every piece of armor aside with care and neatly fold his flight suit. It doesn’t take any convincing to get him into the shower with you. The burning heat of the water soothes some of the aches that linger in his muscles. A dull throb still follows his every move but he powers through, not wanting to spoil such a pleasant evening with his lover.

He never really learned that he can’t hide anything from you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask as he eases himself onto the edge of the bed.

“Just sore,” He concedes, slowly rolling his shoulders in a vain effort to ease the tension. Your eyebrows furrow as you look him over with a keen eye. All you wear is that scrutinizing expression and the pretty robe he got you, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful. He sighs and reaches for your hand. “Come on, let’s just get some sleep.”

“You can’t sleep if you’re this uncomfortable.” You squeeze his shoulder, frowning when you feel how tight his muscles are. “Let me help.”

Din meets your gaze, your eyes so earnest that he doesn’t even think to deny you. He lets you maneuver him as you please until he’s laid out on his belly with you straddling his hips. A low groan rumbles through his chest when your hands bear down on his shoulders. Every pass of your fingers brings a strange combination of pleasure and pain that leaves him melting into the bed.

Even after all these months, he just isn’t used to the feeling of your skin against his. A simple passing touch is enough to have him shivering, but this? It’s overwhelming, all-consuming in the best possible way. It doesn’t take long for that pain to melt away into pure pleasure. Breathless, needy sounds follow every pass of your fingers. He can't help but rock his hips, grinding his cock into the silken sheets.

By the time you've finished working your thumbs into his lower back, you've reduced the Mandalorian beneath you into a desperate, hungry mess. He goes without hesitation when you urge him onto his back. His hands immediately find your hips and he grinds up into the heat of your cunt. The only thing that stops him from flipping you over and fucking you into the sheets is the gentle hand you place on his chest.

“Let me.” You whisper. Your voice carries a soft thrum of need that leaves him aching. “Let me take care of you.”

His fingers tighten at your hips at the mere brush of your fingers against his cock. That grip becomes bruising as you slowly sink onto him. Pleasure curls through his belly at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him, so hot and slick and perfect - it would be so easy to lose his mind in the rapture of your body. It isn’t easy to keep his eyes open under the onslaught of pleasure, but it’s well worth it. He’s rewarded with the sight of your jaw falling slack and a shiver wracking your body. The stretch, the angle - it’s all new to you. You aren’t used to taking him this way. He isn’t used to letting you.

You sigh a breathy, pleased little sound that makes his heart skip a beat or two. Fuck, you might just be the death of him one of these days. It’s a demise he welcomes if it means meeting his end at your hands. That first roll of your hips has his head tipping back into the pile of fluffy pillows, yet another addition of comfort you’ve brought to this bed. You can’t take your eyes off him - the flex of his biceps, the clench of his jaw, the sheen of sweat that glistens on his tan skin. A delicious vision of the man you’ve come to love so dearly. You lean down and press a kiss to his chest, his collarbone, to that sweet spot where his pulse thrums in his neck.

Your fingers comb through his curls, bringing his pleasure-clouded gaze back to your own. His lips part as you set a slow, steady pace. Every rise and fall of your hips makes his eyelashes flutter but he doesn’t look away. He’s too entranced by this, by the pure newness of it all. Heat pulses and courses through your belly with every grind of your clit against him, grows stronger with every needy sound you pull from him. His chin tips up, an obvious plea, and you kiss him. Soft and slow, full of tongue and teeth.

Din doesn’t think he’s ever experienced anything quite as overwhelming as this. He isn’t a stranger to the feeling of your body or the love you somehow hold for him, but this is all new. Every slow rock of your hips sends honeyed pleasure slinking down his spine. There’s no need to rush. He can take his time and truly feel you, revel in the plushness of your thighs and the wet heat of your cunt. For the first time, he lets himself explore your body unhurried. His hands drift up and palm your breasts, his fingers rolling your nipple with a gentle touch. Your head tips back as you hum a pleased little sound.

Din can’t help but press his hips up, rising every time yours fall. He doesn’t take control, doesn’t try to set a faster pace. He just moves with you as fluid as rushing water. His hands shift to cup your ass, his fingers digging in and spreading you out for him. Desire clouds your gaze as he grinds his hips at that perfect angle that makes you see stars. You’re so close - he can feel it in the telltale rhythmic pulse of your cunt, in the way your thighs tremble. Slick drips in little rivulets down his thighs.

“Perfect, so perfect,” He rambles between rushed breaths. “My sweet girl, all mine.”

“Yours,” You promise. “I’m yours.”

All it takes is one perfect rock of his hips to have you falling apart for him. That tension finally bursts through your belly, your cunt tightening around him with every aching wave of pleasure. You lose all sense, all ability to keep your pace, but Din is quick to take over. His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you down, spilling himself as deep as your body can take him. You let yourself melt into his chest, a wave of pleasure shuddering through you with every twitch of his spent cock.

Din locks his arms around your back, all too content to keep your body against his. No complaint comes from you. You just tuck your face into his neck with a spent sigh. The two of you float together in that sweet, exhausted haze. He doesn’t know for how long, but he never wants it to end. He never wants any of this to end. He wants this forever, for every possible moment of his life to be soaked in this contentment. Surrounded by soft sheets and the smell of your perfume. Unhurried and easy, with you.

Months ago, such a realization would have thrown him into an existential crisis. But he didn’t have you all those months ago - this sweet, bright-eyed, spitfire of a woman currently taking a cat nap on his chest. He didn’t have the sweet scent of your shampoo infused in his sheets. He didn’t have your soft exhales ghosting along his throat. He just didn’t know that life could be like this. The moment you shift as if you’re making to get off of him, his arms tighten around you.

“Just a little longer,” He murmurs, his voice sleepy and pleasure drunk.

You're more than happy to indulge him.

[ariiiloves]

I've been waiting to read this series!! I've seen it a lot here in tumblr and probably have like four screenshots of different chapters so I wouldn't forget about it AND HERE I AM STARTING IT and oh man I gotta say, I'm loving this

Im so intrigued because you are giving mando a new life, taking the offer Karga proposed, he's finally "living a normal life" after so much chaos so that makes me so happy and excited to know what's coming.

And with reader, as soon as I read "reader is hiding from a shady past" I KNEW I NEEDED TO READ THIS.

I'm so excited

A Fresh Start [1]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: use of fake name, reader is hiding from a shady past

Word Count: 4,506

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Chapter #01: TWO PORGS, ONE BLASTER

Chapter Summary: The Marshal is looking to hire a nanny, and you just so happen to be moving into the city.

“remember to live while you’re busy surviving.” -d.j.

Din Djarin was busier these days than he ever had been before. Even compared to years ago, when he was picking up dozens of bounty pucks and collecting quarries left and right, it was nothing compared to now. If he had known that being Nevarro’s marshal would be so hectic, he may have never accepted it. At the thought, he sighed. That was a bold faced lie. He still would’ve taken the job in a heartbeat because the pay was better than anything he had ever made previously. Speaking strictly in terms of credits, it was significantly less than the various bounties he’d pick up, but the job brought him peace of mind. It brought safety to Grogu. More than just safety, it gave the child the opportunity to grow and learn in an environment where he wasn’t at risk. They had settled here a couple of months ago, and for most of that time Grogu had been happy and free of night terrors. It was a blessing Din couldn’t quantify. He’d work every second of every day if it meant the child grew up safe and loved.

Seguir leyendo

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Fifteen Weeks

Din Djarin x Cam Girl Reader AU

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI)  Summary: It's been fifteen weeks since Din Djarin first entered your life, now you can't imagine it without him. You take a leap of faith in your relationship and visit him at his farm. Warnings: Smut, loss of virginity, face sitting, premature ejaculation, unprotected p in v sex (reader is tested and has an IUD, protect yourselves IRL), mentions of sex work, anxiety, Din is bad at feelings, farmhouse emotions, goats!, yes I made Din Djarin a schnauzer owner don't judge me. Words: 5,050

A/N: Here it is folks, the follow up to Fifteen Minutes, which I originally wrote as a standalone. Thank you to @goodwithcheese for speaking so highly about Fifteen Minutes thus making me revisit this draft and finally finish it. I also want to thank @frannyzooey for taking a look at the bare bones of this months ago. I really love these two and I’m so glad they finally get to eat soup together.

Masterlist

___

“So, where ya’ headed?” the Uber driver asks, turning toward the departures terminal.

“Just to see a... friend."

“Hm. Must be a special friend to catch a flight this early.” 

“I guess he is,” you smile through a yawn.

___

Waiting to board. Can’t wait to finally see you! xxxx🙂

Hitting the send button, you shake your head still finding it hard to believe you’re traveling almost halfway across the country to meet a man. A man you’ve fallen head over heels for.

Can’t wait to see you too. See you soon.

His response arrives just in time. A nervous rush of excitement courses through your body before turning your phone off for departure. 

You wonder if your seatmate can feel your leg shake as the nerves tap out against the plane floor. Sure, you’re excited, you’re ready to meet Din in person but there still is trepidation twisting inside of you. You’ve never done anything like this at all. You’ve never met a client and now you’re on a plane headed to one. You’ve known him for only four months, but the connection the two of you share is something you’ve never believed to be something you’d find. You’ve dealt with enough men wearing wedding bands who tell you they love you, that you’re the most beautiful woman they’ve seen, that you’re their whole world. Love is a ridiculous concept when you charge ten dollars a minute. 

With Din, it’s different, it’s something that can be named, can be felt, can be solved, and yet so many questions about it remain. What do you call the quiet silence that exists between the two of you, happy to be on the phone keeping each other company every night? The small laugh and head shake he does whenever you tell him he’s cute? The random texts of his life that always brightens your day? The way he nods with zero judgment when he hears the ding of your new client alert? What do you call the decision that got you here on this plane? 

You read the same page over and over in your book. Will you sleep in his bed tonight? 

You give up on reading and stare forward at the little map on the seat screen. What does he smell like?

You look out the window and watch the clouds disintegrate around you. Is he just as nervous as you?

You turn the volume up and try to drown out your racing thoughts. Will this all be worth it?

Two hours left to find out. 

___

You step off the escalator, eyes scanning the crowded baggage claim area for the reason why you’ve taken a six hour flight halfway across the country. Your hands grip the backpack strap tighter trying to calm the nerves overtaking your heart and brain.

There, right there, leaning against a column alone in the shadows is Din and the brown eyes you’ve only dreamt of seeing in real life. He straightens when you make eye contact, but makes zero attempt to move, still frozen against the column. You lose the fight to hide your smile and excitement hurriedly shuffling over to him, he smiles as you get closer, the same shy half grin he gives when he says good night. His hands slip out of his pockets as you approach. Goodness, he’s so big and handsome, he could be a heartbreaker of all sorts to anybody he sets his sights on. The phone doesn’t do his beauty any justice.

“Hi,” you smile.

“H-hey, I can’t believe you’re… here,” his voice sounds even smoother and deeper in person.

“I am,” you shuffle on your feet. Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.

He tucks his hands back into his hoodie pocket, his silent rejection shoots a pang of longing through you. 

You thought it’d play out like a grand romantic movie, you’d jump into his outstretched arms and he’d never let go. Din’s rejection fills you with jealousy… screw all of the happy couples. You hate those movies now.

Touch me.

Of course he’s nervous, you’re nervous too, you’re just better at hiding it. He still leans against the column, shielded by the liminal space.

“Do you have luggage?” He’s right in front of you and yet you’re too scared to touch him, too anxious you’ll scare him away. 

“Nope, just my backpack and carry-on.” 

Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.

“Oh, okay, did you want to leave then?”

“I didn’t come here to see the airport Din,” you place a hand on his hoodie clad arm. He looks down and stares. 

Did you overstep? You couldn’t have, you just watched this same man orgasm for you last night while chanting how he couldn’t wait to paint you with his cum. 

“Din,” you snap him out of his stare, “come on, I’m ready to leave.” 

You know he’s not trying to reject you, but his nervous aloofness is overwhelming when all you want is for him to touch you… just once. 

“I—uh, here, let me take your bags,” he mumbles, reaching past you to grab your suitcase. “It’s really cold, do you have a heavier jacket?” 

“No, but I’ll be okay,” you reassure. The cold won’t sting nearly as much as Din’s seemingly innocent rejection.  

“Here,” he pulls the collar of his hoodie over his head. “I’m used to this cold. You aren’t.” 

You take the bundle of black fabric from his outstretched hand, not realizing just how cold you were until you put the hoodie warmed by his body heat on. It smells of him. Faint hints of campfire, wood, leather, citrus, and cinnamon. You wish you were wrapped up in Din himself, touching him, smelling him, tasting him. Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Whatever is happening inside of him seems to be bleeding over into your mind. You’re now second guessing every decision to come here. He was excited last night, he texted you this morning how he couldn’t wait to see you, is he disappointed? 

“Yeah, of course,” he nods and turns towards the door, walking away in quick strides leaving you alone in the dark corner near that damn column he’d rather touch than you. He has your suitcase and backpack, so either this is a really expensive way to get robbed or he has zero clue how his actions are affecting you. 

He turns back to you as he reaches the automatic doors, his eyes wide with guilt when he spots you still standing in the same place he left you. Well, at least he feels bad. 

You let a deep breath out to steel yourself and walk to him.

“I-I’m sorry, just not used to ever having to… you know…”

“I know, it’s okay Din,” you gently smile. What in the world have you gotten yourself into?

“I’m just—“

“Nervous. I know Din, it’s okay. I understand this is a lot.”

“It is, but just… know that how I’m acting is not how I’m feeling. I’m really happy to have you here. You’re so… beautiful and I—thank you for being here with me.”

There it is. Everything is worth it now. The early morning Uber to the airport, the neverending TSA line, the cramped airplane seat, the nervousness you feel. You’d do it all again to hear that sentence. 

“Of course, I know. You’re okay,” you take his hand. If he’s not going to do it, you’ll do it. “Come on, let’s go.” 

His eyes stay downcast staring at your hand wrapped around his.

You clear your throat to get his attention, his eyes snap up to yours. “Din, let’s go.”

“R-right. Of course. Right.” 

He leads you out the door, gripping your hand harder when the bitter wind lashes against your skin. 

The two of you weave your way through the parking lot until you reach a large silver truck. It’s clean with a few dents and scratches. Well taken care of but old. 

Din opens the creaky door and helps you step up. The black leather seat is smooth as you slide across it.

Din places your luggage in the back before opening his door and deftly stepping in. 

You hide a deep exhale when he starts the engine.

He clears his throat and you look over. “It’s–uh nice to see you in here.”

“I’m glad,” you smile, turning and reaching your hand out to touch his cheek. Your thumb finds the little heart patch on the side of his face, you’ve been thinking about how it’d feel since you first saw it. You can’t help yourself, he looks so delicate, as if he’s aching to be touched but too scared to ask for it. You’re holding a scared fawn in your hands. Don’t scare him, don’t move too quickly, let him figure things out on his own. 

His lips part as he inhales, deep brown eyes staring into yours, the nervousness radiating off his skin fills the truck cabin. You wish you could just throw caution to the wind and force him to tell you exactly how he’s feeling, to slide across the bench seat and beg him to take you right here in this airport parking lot. You don’t. You pull your hand away and put your seatbelt on.

“I can’t wait to see your home. I’ve never been to an actual farm before.”

___

You’ve seen glimpses of Din’s home in random pictures he’s texted you or your nightly FaceTime sessions, but you never imagined just how picturesque it could be. A large white two story farmhouse situated in the middle of a vast expanse of green grass, a small tin roofed barn sits to the side with a herd of goats happily grazing. Din’s life must be so peaceful here, very different compared to your townhouse in the middle of suburbia.

“It’s beautiful,” you muse as he pulls into the driveway. “I can understand why you never wanted to leave.” 

The truck stops in front of his home, a german shepherd and a little schnauzer run down the porch steps and head for Din’s truck.

“They’ll be fine with you, but let me get out so I can control them.” 

Din gets out of the truck, you chuckle to yourself as his clipped directions to the dogs are drowned out by excited barks. 

He opens your door and reaches his hand out.

“Grogu! Boba! Back!” Din shouts as he helps you step down. His raised voice makes your heart skip a beat. You didn’t know he could ever be this loud.

“It’s okay, I like your dogs, you know I think they’re cute,” you bend down and tap on your knees to beckon them over. “This must be Grogu,” you scratch his soft ears. “He does have big ears.”

“They’re not that used to other people.”

“Hmm,” you stand up and pat the top of Boba’s head, “sounds like someone I know.”

He chuckles as he walks up the porch steps and unlocks the front door. 

Warmth fills your body as you walk over the threshold. White walls, worn floorboards, antique furniture, all of it taken care of and clean. Tidy and well kept up, a lot like his truck, aged but in better shape and made to last; a far change from your newbuild townhouse and IKEA furniture. 

“Diiin,” you breathe, “it’s beautiful in here. Like… I knew you lived in a nice house, but wow, between this and the farm… when do you sleep?”

“I sleep enough. I’ll go get your bags, make yourself… at home.”

You take a seat on his couch, it’s perfect for him. Beige, simple lines, nothing fancy, not too comfortable, but probably the height of cozy after a long day working on a farm. Grogu jumps up and sits next to you, his little bearded face panting happily next to yours. You scratch his chest and praise him as he inches closer towards you. Boba stays near the entry, waiting for Din.

“Think he likes you,” Din says as he places your bags by the steps. “Don’t take Boba’s standoffishness personally he’s–”

“Like you. I know,” you smile.

“Did– what would you like to do?”

“Can I see the computer where you first talked to me?”

“Um, yeah,” he walks down the hallway leaving you behind yet again, “it’s just in here.”

You shake your head and rise off the couch to follow, obviously he’s not used to company.

You walk into a small office, everything has a place, efficient and tidy, perfectly Din. Paperwork stacked in neat stacks, a calendar with his sharp writing all over it hung on the wall, today’s date circled with your name written in the box. 

A black monitor sits on a mahogany desk. 

“This is the computer, huh?” you ask, running your hands across the black keyboard,

“It is.”

“So this is where it all began? You sat there, clicked on my picture, and now look. I remember when I first heard your voice,” you face him taking both of his hands in yours, “it was so deep and warm, it lit something inside of me.”

You guide his arms to wrap around you, his hands rest on your lower back.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you after our first session ended. There was something so pure and mysterious about you, I knew you weren’t lying about wanting to know. It wasn’t some kink you had, I knew you needed help. I felt lucky to be the one to show you.” 

He sighs as you rest your head against his chest hearing the rhythm of his heart. “I closed that window so many times before finally agreeing and joining. I-I kept on thinking about how I could talk to someone as beautiful as you, all it would take is just a click. You were so pretty.” 

“Just a click,” you whisper, craning your neck up as Din lowers his head. His nose bumps against yours, his plush bottom lip is captured between your lips, another part of him you’ve wanted to touch since you first saw him. You finally kiss him, sweet and tender, his lips molding to yours perfectly. He pulls you in closer, his tongue hesitantly dipping into your mouth as you lick against him. The past fifteen weeks have finally led to this moment inside of this old farmhouse office in the middle of nowhere. Your Din and his soft lips, tense hands against your back, your soft coos mingling with his low groans, you could stay in this moment forever, if it wasn’t for Din’s phone beeping in his pocket. 

“I’m sorry,” he pulls away, a bashful smile adorns his face, “I need to go take care of the goats before sundown.”

“Of course.” 

He hugs you, planting a soft kiss against your forehead and inhaling your scent before leaving. He’s warming up…

___

Din loves soup. You know this by the nights you spend with him over the phone. The man eats soup almost every single night. Soup with bread, soup and a baked potato, soup and steak, soup, soup, soup. 

You can’t blame him, the stew and homemade rolls he serves you for dinner are delicious. He shyly tells you it’s his speciality when he places the porcelain bowl in front of you. 

You could get used to the farm life. A fire burns in the fireplace while the tv plays Din’s favorite movie he’s been wanting to show you, some film about a galaxy far far away and an unlikely hero. The man loves space. 

His arm slung across your shoulder lies heavily on you, warming you inside and out. Grogu sleeps on your lap, softly snoring as you pet his gray fur. Din occasionally sneaks a kiss against your hair, you don’t know if you’ve ever been more comfortable in your life. 

The movie ends, a grand symphonic score plays over the credits. 

“That was really good,” you smile towards Din. “I liked it.”

A grin slowly stretches across his face. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, thank you for showing me it.”

“You’re welcome,” he gazes at you, the same look he smolders through the phone, like he can’t believe his luck that you’re talking to him. 

You attempt to fight a yawn and lose. Your eyes blink tiredly at Din when he reaches and rubs his thumb against your cheek. 

“Did you want to,” he clears his throat, “sleep in my room with me tonight?”

“Only if you want me to Din.”

“I, uh, I do.”

“Okay, I’d like that.”

___

The airplane and long day washes off and rinses down Din’s shower drain. You use his washcloth and think of his hands touching you. You smell his soap and think of inhaling the scent as he holds you close. You don’t know what’s about to happen once you leave this room. If you’re this nervous, how does he feel? 

Din looks up from the book he’s reading and watches you step out of the bathroom shyly padding over and getting into bed.

“What are you reading?” you whisper.

“Some book about a cowboy warrior in space…”

“Sounds interesting.”

“It’s good.”

“You know,” you look around the simple bedroom, “I see this room all the time, but only the wall behind your bed, hardly anything else. It’s been really nice seeing more of your life.”

He nods, blinking back to his book. 

The night can’t end like this. 

You grab the book from his hands and place it on the table.

“What are you thinking about Din? I never know what’s going on inside of you.”

“H-how pretty you look wearing that.” 

You look down at the pink silk tank top and shorts and swallow down a smile. You specifically wore it because you know how Din’s eyes light up whenever you put it on. “It’s my favorite because it’s so soft. Do you want to feel it?” 

He turns to you wide-eyed and gives you a solitary nod. 

“Go ahead Din.”

His tan hand splays across your stomach, golden toned skin rests against the blushy silk of your tank.

“S’soft,” he murmurs to himself.

“Here,” you place your hand over his and press down, “really feel it.”

His eyes angle down watching your hand navigate his around your stomach to just below your breasts. His mouth sits slightly agape, thick brows furrowing in concentration as you slip his hand underneath the fabric, his trembling calloused fingers making contact with your skin. 

“Am I soft here Din?”

“Y-Yes,” he stammers. 

“Touch me, as little or as much as you want. Wherever you’re comfortable doing, okay?” you remove your hand from his. “I came here for you… whatever you want… I want..”

“I want to,” he gulps, “I want to touch you all over.”

“I’m all yours baby.” 

His shoulders deflate with a groan, he trails his hand higher to cup one of your breasts. The tips of his fingers peek out of the top of your tank. Tan, well worked strong hands lay against your smooth skin. The sight makes you moan, your teeth gnawing at your lip, trying to qualm the temptation to touch him further. 

“Take it off Din.” His dark brown eyes beam up to yours. “Go ahead baby.” 

He grabs the hem of your tank top, softly bundling it in his hands and lifting it over your head leaving you bare chested. 

“Kiss me and touch me baby,” you gently will. 

His lips form over yours, his hands return to your skin, petting and caressing your breasts before you cover them, pushing them farther down your stomach. His breaths quicken against your mouth when you slip his hands underneath the band of your shorts. 

“Fuck,” he pants against your lips when his hand meets the wetness seeping from your pussy. “Fuuuuuck.” 

“You feel me baby? That’s how wet you always make me, ever since the first time we talked and all you were was a black square with a sexy voice. It’s like we were destined in the stars.” 

“God damnit, you’re so soft,” Din’s hips buck into the air, his head thuds against the headboard when his thick finger slips in between your folds. “I-I-I oh god, I’m– I think I’m going to cum. I’m sorr–” 

“It’s okay baby, I’m here, cum for me.” Your hand reaches down and grips his hard cock through his black sweatpants. “Cum for me Din.” 

You feel a warm wet spot spread against your hand, pulling a moan from you.. 

“I’m--agh– sorry,” his big eyes stare at you, a hint of shame rounds them. “You feel so amazing.” He pulls his hand out of your shorts.

“No,” you whimper at the loss of contact. “I like it baby, I like that you like me so much that happened. Please don't apologize. Keep touching me if you want to. Do you?” 

“God,” his eyes shrink in determination, “yes I do.” 

“Okay baby.”

You sit in between his stretched out legs, lifting your hips to take off your shorts, spreading your legs wide, much the same way you do for your clients. 

He stares at your exposed skin, eyes mapping every dip, curve and dimple of your body. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “I can’t believe you’re here… for me.”

“Of course I am baby.” 

His fingers trace the plains of your legs, moving their way up to your thighs. His face set in a determinative scowl, eyes fixated on your core as he inches closer to it, now aching and soaked for him. 

“I-I’ve never done this.”

“I know baby, you remember our first call?” 

He nods.

“Remember what I told you what I liked?”

Another nod.

“Do that for me baby, touch me. Make me feel good.” A thick finger meets your lips, tracing a line up from your entrance to your clit before softly rubbing a circle around your sensitive nub. He remembered.

“You’re so wet for me,” he breathes out, his eyes staying planted staring at your pussy beguiled by his own actions.

“I am Din, only for you. I think about you every time. I-I,” you moan when he sticks a finger inside, slowly pumping it in and out, “I only want you.” 

“Only want you too, baby. C-can I taste you?”

“Ye–oh my god, yes Din, I’m yours, do whatever you want to me.” 

“I’m yours, anything you wa–”

“Sit on my face,” he growls. 

“O-of course.” 

You crawl towards him, leaving a chaste kiss on his lips before straddling his face, your dripping cunt hovers right over his mouth. He grips your ass and pulls you down, smothering himself with all of your slickness. You cover him like a mask, he worships your taste like a religion, moaning and groaning into your sweet pussy. Your praises about how good he’s doing and how amazing you feel incant out of your mouth as he takes you to paradise. Plush lips suck and savor you, your hands grip the bed frame like a precious artifact, his devotion to you and your pleasure pulls a melting orgasm from you. 

“Din, Din, Din,” you pray at his altar, knees bowed and quaking against his ears as he drinks your offering down. You’re shattered, everything you’ve ever believed in replaced by Din and his idolatry of you. 

You move your lust drunk body off and lay down next to Din. His face shines with a gloss of you, his tongue peeks out and licks his lips, before sending you a shy smile.

“You’re amazing,” he incredulously mutters. 

“You are too,” a doting grin lights your face before pulling him in for a kiss. You can taste yourself on him, a moan leaves your throat at the realization. 

Strong arms envelop you, pulling you closer to him, his hard cock juts against the soft skin of your thigh. 

“Already?” you pull back and tease. 

“C-can I feel you?” 

“Feel me?” 

“Yes, c-can I… can we….?”

A rush of anticipation thrums through your body at the implication of his nervousness.

“Yes Din, we can. Are you sure this is what you want tonight? We can wait.”

“N-no. I want you, I-I want this,” he moves his sweatpants down, kicking them off. 

“Okay baby, okay,” you kiss him, grabbing his face, petting the soft hair of his sparse beard.

He rolls on top of you, cradling your head between his strong forearms, a heated kiss licks into your mouth as his naked weight covers you. Your legs open in a silent offer for Din to take everything you have. You can just feel the heft of his cock ghosting against your entrance. 

He looks down at you, brown eyes wide, plush mouth parted, brows softened with adoration. 

You send him a silent nod and smile when his cock enters you, feeling a sense of honor that you’re the one Din has chosen for this. You wouldn’t have it any other way. The green accept button, the reserved man dressed in all black, the deep voice, the connection between two screens. Now, you’re here with Din, moaning and rolling your hips to accept the length of him.

His neck strains when he sheathes his cock fully inside of you, panting and groaning as he slowly rocks back and forth.

“You … feel … like … heaven… I love your pussy… I love your body…. I�� love you.”

He freezes at the divulgence, body locked in shock at his slip. 

Your face lifts in a reassuring grin. “I love you too,” your hand grabs his chin, bringing his lips to yours. 

You love him, you’ve known it for so long, but here in this farmhouse bed you can hear it, you can feel it. 

Your bodies meld, hips meeting, lips locked, he gives you everything, you give him everything. Your pussy clenches around his slow, full strokes. This is making love. 

“Baby, I-I.. I’m going t–” he strains. 

“Go ahead Din, I got you.” Your hands trail up and down the expanse of his smooth back. He grunts, burying his head into the crook of your neck, fevered breaths hit your skin as his cum fills you.

He rolls off, pulling you to his side and kissing the top of your hair. 

“Wow… I.. are you okay?”

“What?” your head perks up.

“You didn’t… uh–”

“I did when you fucked me with your tongue Din, I’m very happy and satisfied.” 

“Oh, I just… I want to make sure you’re good.”

“Baby, I am very good. Trust me.” 

“I love you,” he breathes.

“I love you too Din…” you rest your head against his chest, the exhaustion of the day settling in, quickly lulling you to sleep. This is the way to go to bed.

___

The faint sound of running water gently rouses you from the most peaceful slumber you’ve had. The sun has barely peaked over the horizon, the room’s still shrouded in a lazy darkness. 

Din’s long sigh echoes against the tiles of the shower like a siren song. 

You pad out of bed toward the bathroom, pushing the door wide open. 

Your mouth drops at the sight ahead of you… Din’s muscular, toned golden body shines underneath a glistening sheen of water. He runs a gray wash rag across his stomach, the mop of dark, curly hair right underneath his hand beckons you to look farther down. You’ve seen him so many times before, almost every night, but this is the first time you’ve been able to see all of him in person. Din is a big man, his cock matches his stature. Just as long, just as broad, just as golden. God, he’s gorgeous. 

You knock on the doorframe catching his attention, surprise tensing across his whole body. 

“Good morning,” you purr, “can I join you?”

He nods, his cock grows visibly hard when you walk over and get in. The warm steam, Din’s naked body, and the smell of Din’s cedar body wash engulfs you, this is the way to wake up. 

“Mmm, the hot water feels good,” you sigh, leaning your head against his chest. Din’s cock rests heavily in between you, tempting you to touch it. “Want me to wash you?”

He groans a yes. 

“You can wash me too,” you propose, squeezing a dollop of body wash onto your palm, running it across your chest before leaving suds on your hands. “Go ahead Din.”

Drops of water land against your skin as his trembling hands slowly reach for your breasts. He massages and kneads, both palms laying against your tits, his touch turns more searing when your hands land on his chest, rubbing in the soap along the dusting of hair stretched across his broad body. 

Your nipples pebble under his nervous, firm touch and undivided attention. He hisses when your hands slink farther down, running across the damp curls of his happy trail leading you to his cock standing between his thighs, thick and dripping. You wrap a fist around his length, his knees weaken causing his body to smash against the wall, his face grimacing in pleasured agony.

“Fuck,” he pants, water rains down into his wide open mouth, splashing out with every exclamation of your name he repeats as he cums all over your stomach. 

Your tongue runs up the column of his neck to his mouth, swallowing his rapid breaths. 

“You feel so good against me,” he gasps against your lips. “I can’t believe you’re here.” 

“I am baby, I am,” you coo, wrapping your arms around him, wishing you could live in this tiny shower forever. This is the way to wake up.

___

Din settles on the porch swing next to you, pulling your blanket wrapped body close to him. 

“Is this what you do every morning?” 

“Just about,” he says before taking a drink of his coffee. 

“It’s nice,” you yawn, “early but nice.” 

He chuckles, “You get used to it.” “Mm,” you rest your head on his chest, smelling the fresh dew and hay on his flannel jacket. 

“I really like you being here,” he softly says.

“I really like being here too.”

“You know,” he gulps, “you can do your job here… with me.”

___

A/N: Thank you for reading! This ending makes me feel:

[pentechnics]

Can't Get Enough

pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader rating: E | explicit | 18+ only word count: ~1,200 tags: nsfw, hate sex, angry sex, penetrative sex, throat/breath play, rough sex, multiple orgasms, angst, reader and din hate each other yet can't get enough, din makes you sad, no physical descriptions of reader, no y/n

notes: This isn't my usual style, but I just kinda had to get some stuff out. Not really edited or fully flushed out, for that matter. But hopefully posting something new will help me get further in my other work! I have something due for the d20 writing challenge and I am so sorry that one hasn't happened dfghjsfkl

taglist under the cut❤️

He slammed you against the wall with a loud thunk.

Your throat was sore from exertion, your pulse quickening with each groan he released.

His hand found your neck again and held tight, forcing you to look into that visor and see your own lust-blown gaze reflected back at you.

Fuck, he pissed you off. He got to see you like this, but you didn’t. Every time you two wound up like this, it felt like another charge added to an invisible tab. Like he owed you something, because you always gave him everything.

The thought was brief, soon vanquished by another angry thrust, pain and pleasure melding together and turning your brain to mush.

You peered in deeper, willing his eyes to show themselves. You channeled every ounce of mental energy you had left into him – how much he hurt you, how angry he made you. How angry you were at yourself to have given into this again.

And why? Nothing ever changed. He’d come over, both of you would be pissed as all hell, take it out on each other, and then he’d leave. Neither of you walked away feeling any better.

… You never stopped to wonder why he kept coming back. It took two to keep this up, after all. You sucked on his thumb when he stuck it in your mouth, wrapping your legs around him to bring him deeper into you.

You hated this. You hated that it always came down to this for you to feel something. Ever since the two of you broke up you’ve been searching for something, but hell if you knew what it was.

You hated that he was still your answer. You surely didn’t love him anymore, but you hated that you still needed him.

Especially because he doesn’t need you.

He rammed into you, deeper and deeper, sending you into convulsions. You screamed into the humid air, grasping at his shoulders for dear life.

His own cries followed, a loud ‘fuck’ echoing into the darkness. He pried you off the wall and threw you down on the bed, putting the full force of his weight into each delicious stroke.

You couldn’t help the whines that spilled out of you. He had a way of dragging out every single sensation until you were drowning in it all. Drowning in him.

It was infuriating.

You pulled yourself up to his shoulder, kissing and biting at his salty skin. A gorgeous, vindicating sense of pride soared through you when he let out a whimper. 

You liked to think you were the only one who could make him do that.

It made him pound harder into you. Your bite matched, his skin muffling your screams.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you panted.

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Good.”

He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. Swears piled out of you. Your heart was pounding, your blood on fire. He had the nerve to fucking chuckle.

“You like that, don’t you?”

 “Bastard.”

He did it again. You wailed.

“Shit,” he whispered.

Any wittiness he had was gone. His pace became manic, one goal in mind. Your eyes rolled back as he continued to ram his cock against your g-spot.

“Close your fucking eyes,” he growled, pressing a hand over them.

The sensations grew stronger without the distraction of sight. Especially after hearing the familiar hiss of his helmet and feeling the subsequent mouth on your neck.

Your moan echoed around you both. Your hand came up to press against his head.

“Din-“

Your orgasm erupted without warning. He used his hold on your head to press you into the mattress, fucking you through it without relent.

“Yes, keep coming, baby.”

Wave after wave of pleasure had your legs flailing and your back arching. Stars appeared before you. The onset of tears built up behind your eyes.

“I’m not fucking done,” he mumbled.

His free hand began to swirl your clit. You thought you couldn’t scream any louder, yet he proved you wrong.

Your muscles tensed up all over again, that sweet coil threatening to break with each tiny movement.

“You better fucking come again,” he said through gritted teeth, like he was holding himself back.

The combination of thrusting and tight circles on your clit had you coming undone again with ease. Your second release was stronger, your body’s convulsions all the more erratic.

But he didn’t stop.

His hand left your eyes to grip your hips, and you had to fight with yourself to keep from looking at him.

“One. More.”

He pulled you to the edge of the bed and dragged you onto his cock over and over. The new angle was steeper, hitting something deeper inside that you weren’t aware existed.

“Oh god,” you sighed. “Right there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whined.

He let out a groan and picked up the speed. You threw your arm over your eyes, afraid you wouldn’t be able to control yourself for much longer.

His breath was labored, accentuated with deep heaving. He wasn’t going to last much longer, which meant—

“Runnin’ out of time, baby, you better give me one more.”

You squealed with each pulse of contact with your g-spot, but his words made a bead of annoyance interrupt your trance.

No, you thought. You’re not gonna get what you want this time.

You squeezed your muscles, clenching his cock tighter between your walls.

“FUCK,” he shouted. “Feels so good-”

His grunts were too much to bear, each one scratching that sweet spot in your brain that went straight to your pussy, but you had to hold back. He had to break first. You gripped the sheets with your free hand and clenched your jaw, desperate to keep the impending third orgasm down.

His grip on you tightened.

“Oh, fuck you,” he spat.

“You already are, dumbass.”

You didn't recognize the graininess of your own voice. But what came after told you it worked.

He leaned over you and continued the rapid pace, both of you moaning into the air just before coming in a heap of screams and roars.

He buried his head beside yours as he rode out his pleasure, taking yours with it.

He eventually slowed to a stop, standing back up and taking care to pull out the condom with his spend without spilling, just as he did every time.

You heard the plop of it getting thrown in the trash before he leaned over you once more, caging in your frame with his arms.

“Look at me.”

“I haven’t heard the helmet-”

“Look. At me.”

Even through his labored breathing, his voice was unwavering. He put his hands on either side of your face, forcing your gaze to meet his when you did peek your eyes open.

The tiny amount of air that had replenished in your lungs was gone.

He was a vision: skin glowing with sweat, eyebrows scrunched with a crease in the middle, sharp cheekbones and a hooked nose…

… But those fucking brown eyes. They were just downright unfair.

You put your hands over his wrists to keep his hold in place. A glimmer of hope dared to emerge in your head – is he letting you see him because he actually did care? Was there still something in him that loved you?

But then he let out a deep chuckle. Your heart broke all over again.

Why’d I even bother?

“You’ll never get enough, will you?”

You gulped. It always came down to this. But this time, you’d seen the truth.

Not only was this his last playing card, but you had a winning hand.

A confident grin bloomed across your face, the satisfaction already tasting so sweet now that you got to say this directly to his actual face. You’d get to see that smug expression die.

You’d get to finally be the one to let him down.

“Neither can you.”

****

taglist: @booksarekindaneat @bluemacaron @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @whataenginerd @girlofchaos @christina-loves @literallydontlook @the-little-ewok @salome-c @dear-fifi @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @keldabe-kriff @kurlyfrasier @booksaremyyoga @elegantduckturtle @artsymaddie

[sanarsi]

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Hello to everyone interested in this year's Kinktober by me!

Here you will find a few things I would like you to familiarize yourself with:

All stories are written by me and all of them are intended for MDNI so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

All stories are fiction and are not intended to offend anyone.

This is Kinktober with only Pedro Pascal characters such as:

Joel Miller – The Last of Us Oberyn Martell – Game of Thrones Din Djarin – The Mandalorian Javier Peña – Narcos Jack Daniels “Agent Whiskey” – Kingsman: The Golden Circle Francisco (Frankie) “Catfish” Morales – Triple Frontier Marcus Moreno – We Can Be Heroes Dieter Bravo – The Bubble Reed Richards – The Fantastic Four: First Steps Marcus Acacius – Gladiator 2

Please read the warnings under each of the works I wrote before reading and do not interact if any of them discourage you. Some stories are not for everyone and that's okay!

I do not allow my works to be copied and distributed without my consent.

All works will be available under this hashtag - #sanarsi kinktober 2024

Main Masterlist

Day 1 – Threesome

QZ!Joel Miller x f!Reader x QZ!Tess

You have no way to pay for the goods. Tess finds a way for you to pay, Joel joins with pleasure.

Day 2 – Hunter/Prey

dark!Din Djarin x f!Reader

Din has one problem with you, you often like to run away from him. Luckily he loves playing this game with you.

Day 3 – Monsterfucking

monster!Oberyn Martell x f!Reader

Your poison lessons with Oberyn went wrong when he accidentally drank the wrong potion.

Day 4 – Food play

Marcus Acacius x prostitute!f!Reader

General likes to brighten up his evenings with your companion. This time he's in the mood for more fun.

Day 5 – Edgeplay

dark!Din Djarin x f!Reader

Din learns to control the new power that has been given to him. However, the Darksaber has an influence on its owner and you will be the first to know about it.

Day 6 – Pregnancy

husband!Jack Daniels x wife!f!Reader

Jack finally made you carry his baby. The sight of you with your rounded belly makes him unable to get enough of you.

Day 7 – Sensory Deprivation

boyfriend!Frankie Morales x f!Reader

You and Frankie like to experiment in bed and this time you took the initiative to play with him.

Day 8 – Uniforms

husband!Reed Richards x wife!f!Reader

You try on your new uniform for the first time. Reed can't keep his hands to himself at the sight of you.

Day 9 – Massaging

Javier Peña x prostitute!f!Reader

Javier is one of your regular and favorite clients. You are always willing to fulfill all his requests but today he needed more from you than just sex.

Day 10 – Knife play

post-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

After Joel killed all of your comrades, he kept you as a reward. Unfortunately, you weren't willing to cooperate, so he used more drastic methods to make you obey him.

Day 11 – Face Sitting

Dieter Bravo x f!Reader

Dieter has run out of drugs, so he asks you to keep him occupied.

Day 12 – Handjob

Oberyn Martell x prostitute!f!Reader

Oberyn is busy discussing important matters for the kingdom but he can't resist taking care of you as you sit thirsty on his lap.

Day 13 – Bondage

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Din tests new bondage techniques on you and decides to take advantage of how defenseless you are.

Day 14 – Sex Toys

husband!Marcus Moreno x wife!f!Reader

You and Marcus have decided to spice up your married life, so you're more than willing to let him test out on you the toys he bought.

Day 15 – Gun play

Javier Peña x prostitute!f!Reader

You've always been interested in Javier's work, but you've never brought it up with him before. He finally decides to show you what a DEA agent is capable of.

Day 16 – Wax play

lover!Marcus Acacius x f!Reader

Marcus loves watching you arch in pleasure beneath him, but he loves watching you squeal in pain and pleasure even more.

Day 17 – Mirror Sex

coworker!Jack Daniels x f!Reader

One of your missions went wrong and you ended up stuck in a mirror maze.

Day 18 – Nipple play

Dieter Bravo x f!Reader

Dieter loves spending lazy evenings cuddled up to you, but sometimes he also likes to interrupt you a little while you're reading a book.

Day 19 – Thigh Riding

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Din is often busy piloting the ship, which is why he doesn't have as much time for you as he would like, and because of that he doesn't mind for you using him for your own pleasure.

Day 20 – Double Penetration

Reed Richards x f!Reader x Marcus Moreno

Two superheroes have decided to save you from trouble, and you want to repay them.

Day 21 – Bath Sex

Jack Daniels x f!Reader

You were used to Jack often coming back hurt and sore. You always took care of him after each mission and bandaged his wounds but this time he needed more than just a few bandages.

Day 22 – Teasing

fiancé!Javier Peña x f!Reader

Your fiancé can't keep his hands to himself even when you're at a family dinner

Day 23 – Glory Hole

Dieter Bravo x f!Reader

Dieter sometimes had drug cravings and now he found himself in one. He didn't know how he ended up at a run-down gas station in the middle of the night but he knew he had met a nice woman who wanted to make his time more pleasant.

Day 24 – Voyeurism

Oberyn Martell x prostitute!f!Reader

Oberyn liked to please himself in many ways. Today he wanted to watch you and your friend have some fun together.

Day 25 – Somnophilia

boyfriend!Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Frankie often likes to cuddle in his sleep. He is also very sensitive to your touch, which is why you can't help yourself when he moans your name in his sleep again.

Day 26 – Ice play

pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Joel uses every moment your daughter is away to keep you in bed. He also likes to spice up your sex life with things he reads on the internet.

Day 27 – Public Sex

boyfriend!Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Your trip to see a movie took an unexpected turn when it turned out you were almost alone in the cinema.

Day 28 – Dom/Sub

lover!Marcus Acacius x f!Reader

After his failed conversation with the Emperor, Marcus needs to feel like he's in control of everything. You just so happen to be everything to him.

Day 29 – Period Sex

husband!Marcus Moreno x wife!f!Reader

Your husband helps you with period pain.

Day 30 – Praise Kink

Reed Richards x student!f!Reader

Reed likes to reward you for a job well done.

Day 31 – Hate Fucking

coworker!Jack Daniels x f!Reader

Another mission with Agent Whiskey tests your patience to the limits. The dislike is mutual, so you end up in each other's arms to numb the negative emotions.

COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

[jolalibrary]

i’d look for you

din djarin x f!reader | masterlist

summary: din offers you something else in a field of wildflowers

warnings: 18+, allusion to smut ONLY. soft!din. idiots who have feelings but don't know what to do with them. jo's writing din so it gets weirdly poetic again. wordcount: 2k notes: pairing is the same as other din fics by me. but don’t need to read to enjoy. written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna Challenge - this fic has made me smile so much, I hope it does the same for you.

“Can you do something for me?”

The question hangs, burns, in the air of his bed. Your eyes blinking awake, having been roused from slumber by his gloved hand on your cheek.

You’re aware he’s waiting, biting the inside of your cheek, as you nod.

Swallowing the longer answer which burns on your tongue, finding it now tastes of acid and wrongness, having been trapped inside for so long, having let it overstay its welcome.

You suspect he knows it all anyway. Likely as easily able to read you, as you are him. Able to hear the words you don’t say, just from the way you stare at him, like a written passage all on its own.

He helps you up, but doesn’t hurry you. You almost smirk at the purposeful, cautious touches on your side, trailing his gloved hand along the curve of your back as he leads you to the refresher, awakening thoughts more sinful than you suspect is his intention.

It’s then he tells you the time, but shares nothing else about why the ship is quiet.

“What about—”

“He’s asleep.”

Your mouth clamps shut, taking the clothes he hands you as you bury the rest of the questions. Each piece you slide on, you don’t shy away as he stands waiting. Letting him stare, letting him take in the sight of you in more light than he can when your bodies usually writhe.

Are you admiring me, Din? you want to ask. Do you feel the invisible string between us too?

Sometimes, you dislike that he told you the shade of his eyes, because you look for them. Peer through the visor with more hope than you’d allowed yourself to have before.

“Can you turn around?”

It should sound like a command, but his tone is softer, more brittle. Something unspoken within it, tightening around each letter, bending and forging with it—likely things he’ll never admit.

Still, you obey. Closing your eyes as you feel him behind you, his presence crowding and looming—recollecting when he’d been barer than he is now, draped over you.

If you will it enough, you swear you can feel his breath fluttering over your shoulder—remembering how he makes you feel full and sated, content and happy. The last time, you’d been in a haze, fucked out, blissfully aware of the naked fingers resting at the base of your neck as you came down and the way he had tilted your head back and swallowed your whine like he knew it belonged to him.

You do, you think, belong to him.

Not because he has taken, but because he has earned—he has proven. A thing which rises to the tip of your tongue and sears alongside the other words which linger and ferment.

“Trust me,” he says.

Not a question, but an ask. And you don’t mean to, but an unintentional gasp escapes at the feel of the soft, smooth fabric when it slides over your eyes. Light fades as though he clicks his fingers, blanketing you in night in the middle of the day as it tightens around your head—rendering you quiet, shyer, almost smaller, as your sense is removed, willingly given but taken all the same.

Then you stand, breath hitching, anticipation threading through your veins as you wait. For him to move, to speak, to do. Each second stretches into eternity, making a protest wish to appear. A change of mind, a declaration of wishing to do something else, than this.

But, you don’t speak it. Instead, dancing your fingers against the tops of your thighs, waiting, not patiently, but not rushing.

“Relax.”

You snort to smother the shiver that darts down your spine at his voice.

Unsure how one does such a thing when you hear the ramp going down, subtly listening to the sound of water running. You feel lost, adrift in a sea of darkness—of nothingness—with every fibre of your being yearning for a familiar anchor, teeth rolling over your bottom lip as you fight the urge to whisper his name into the void, a silent plea for reassurance amidst the engulfing uncertainty.

Din, you think.

Wondering if he can hear his name in your mind. If he’ll come to your calling, hold your hand; allow you to ask if this is necessary, if this—

“Breathe.”

And you do.

Chest filling, lungs flooding—his gloved fingers sliding between your bare ones, rooting you as he repeats it. Calmness spreads through you inch by inch, in the same way he makes pleasure surge through your muscles.

He gives you a minute, a moment. Likely waiting until your head turns in the direction you think he’s in, before he leads, offering stony orders to be careful—one that almost makes you grin until your steps take your soles to meet something softer than his ship.

The smell greets you first. It’s crisp and sweet—unlike anything you’ve encountered. Then the drizzle, how it forces your clothing to bind to your skin in a way that should feel suffocating, but instead feels freeing. Lips beginning to stretch, teeth showing as your cheeks ache with the intensity of your grin.

It’s then you feel him move behind you, the squelch of his boots signifying it. His chest meets your spine, the ghost of his touch along the side of his neck, before you feel the fabric over your eyes, loosen and light begins to seep in.

Then, it goes from nothing to everything. It being almost too much to take in all at once—the unveiled surprise, the thing he’d wanted you to see in its wonder and not in pieces as you descended.

And—

“It’s beautiful.”

It being the delicate blooms that stretch out before you. Each one a mysterious burst of colour against a backdrop of greenery. Vibrant splashes of colour, all wild and free, rising from the ground like the scenes from books you used to read. With each sway and ripple in the breeze, you spot more flowers. All of them stirred by the falling rain, watching each motion, all in awe; lost for words.

Distantly, you become aware that he’s moved to the side of you, but you’re unable to tear your eyes from the world. Not able to take your sight from the striking array of hues, every colour flower you think you could ever imagine swaying. Because there are iridescent blues and purples; there are some that glow with luminous gold and reds that look stained with blood. Shares you can’t even name, but are drawn to, reluctant to steal your gaze until you spot another.

Fingers reaching out, knee bending, you touch one, find it softer, more delicate than you ever thought. Tears springing to your eyes, chest swarmed with warmth as you admire the way the stems twist and spiral in graceful arcs, all beaded with the sparkling mist that continues to fall.

“What do you think?”

“It’s…”

Words fail you, a thing you’re not sure he could ever believe.

The only conscious thought is that you wish to live amongst them. No words exist that can describe how serene you feel; how as wild or as drenched as the petals you admire.

Because it’s then you really notice the rain, coming to sit amongst the living and the flowers. Ground soaked with it, it falling in torrents. Each droplet is a percussion against your skin, seeping through the layers and soaking you to the bone.

It's a different kind of loveliness. It’s all free, raw and unyielding, a mosaic of shades that aren't bowing or converting into a glistening canvas of liquid silver—even if the skies try to.

In truth, you thought you’d seen rain. But this is something different.

It is more akin to the sky having been ripped open, split in two, cracked, all but pouring its tears upon the land in a symphony of water and wind. Your fingers dig into the dirt, feeling his equally soaked thigh press against yours as he joins you, feeling him watching, studying, even if you can't see his eyes.

“My mom used to say that a flower sprouts when a person leaves us,” you say, soft, barely your normal volume. “I always wondered where they did—I guess I know now.”

Shifting, you peel your sight from the flowers to see his legs extended, his body so close to yours. So much so, it would be easy to lean into it. Into him. To press your drenched clothing against his equally drowned frame, seek warmth, and take what he will offer you in the brightness of the day.

“Din,” you continue, tuning in to the gruff noise he makes for you to continue, as you move your shoulder closer.

His head turns, the front of his helmet facing you.

Allowing you to see a bead slide gracefully down the silver, moving like a serene symphony—as others fall, and then another. All being left by the sky above, weaving paths you wish to trace with your fingers.

You shouldn’t, but you want to wipe each away with your touch, rest your palms against the places his cheeks should be and will your hands to remember the warmth you know they can be.

“Can you remember the last time you felt the rain on your bare skin?”

Silence. Rain slides against leaves before rolling down to the soil below. The sound increases and decreases in odd waves as the storm tries to square itself against the sun, against the blossoms which rise like an army unwilling to cower.

“No.”

His reply is rough, croaked out through the modulator—caked in openness you’re not sure he wishes to show.

And, it makes a memory resurface. Sharp and clear. The first time you’d felt him unmasked, the vulnerability etched into his features—frame tense, rigid. Nervousness flowed through him as easily as the blood that races. How you’d kissed him, felt his cracked lips gain confidence against yours as his muscles rippled under your palms.

In a different way than then, you reached out, offered comfort—providing something you’re not sure he easily is given.

“A person could get lost here,” you sigh, the words practically tumbling out.

A stillness follows, one only punctuated by the rain. That is, until he shifts, until you hear him exhale, before adding, “Not you.”

Dragging your eyes from the landscape, you watch as more droplets slide and skate down his helmet, against his armour. Desperate to cling. It’s nothing but mesmerising, making him appear like he’s made of the sky. Reflections of the flowers there, muted shades mirroring.

“No?”

He’s silent for a moment. Just one. “Wouldn’t let you. I’d find you.”

Smirking, you turn back to the view. “You’re good at that—practically a professional.”

He allows a beat, lets your shoulder settle against him—the heels of your boots digging into the ground of this place, hoping a little bit clings on and comes with you.

“I’d look for you.”

Breaking your gaze from the flowers and the falling rain, you rest them on his helmet. On him. On the space you think the brown eyes he’s told you about are currently watching you.

It’s slow to appear, taking its time to spread up into your cheek as the implication of his words ring out. Look, not find; search but not hunt.

“I wouldn’t run to begin with.”

You feel it, the shift, slight tilt of his head at your words.

And you swear you hear him breathe good, light almost airy—before gloved fingers find their way between yours again. Soaked, sodden. But neither moving as seconds become minutes.

“Cyar'ika?”

You hum, preening, almost blooming under the name he’s just begun using. Nestling further against him, watching the flowers sway and turn in the rain before his gloved hands come in front of you—a bunch of flowers held out to you, offered, given.

“My hair is brown too.”

You smile, taking the bunch, bringing them to your nose. “That’s nice to know.”

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Too Sweet

A/N: Hi friends. I haven't written anything in a while, as I've been tussling with my mental health and raging SAD from the weather near me. Please accept this Mandalorian drabble? Rambling? Takes place between the end of season two and Din's appearance in the Book of Boba Fett. Tags: The Mandalorian, Mandalorian x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader, Mandalorian x F!Reader, Apostate!Din WARNINGS: None Summary: You've been a safe place for Din Djarin for years. He comes to you at his most vulnerable, but always has to leave before you're ready. Title inspired by the Hozier song of the same name.

Word count: 1.6k+

Hours later, you’re still in shock.

Din Djarin is in bed next to you, sans helmet.

It wasn’t unusual for him to be in your home- hell, it would be more unusual for him not to be there between jobs. Your Mandalorian had spent years visiting, hovering somewhere in between a lover and a partner. He shows up in the afternoon one day, and is gone early in the morning before you wake. When he returns, beaten and bruised, you chastise him for leaving without saying goodbye. The routine was comfortable. Familiar. 

Except every other time he had been there, you had never seen his face. 

It feels like a dance each time he comes. You tend to his wounds quickly but gently, lathering cuts and bruises in bacta before wrapping bandages or slings where necessary to let the medication heal. Once you’ve played nurse, Din secludes himself to your study to eat dinner. And each time, without fail, he leads you to the bedroom to extinguish the fireplace and blow out your candles. His hands find your body, and he ravishes you in the darkness. 

Key word being darkness.

Today was the same song and dance. He’d limped into your cabin without greeting, shaking snow from his armored body and settling himself into a kitchen chair while you fussed. A tube of bacta and half a roll of bandages later, he silently trudged away to eat in the study. There was a distinct lack of little green child with him today, which was a major concern after the past year. You suspected it had something to do with the oppressive sense of sorrow following him through the house. So you carried on with your usual routine, asking little to no questions. It wasn’t until he’d crowded you up against the sink, bowl still in your grip as you rinsed it, that he spoke. 

“Mesh’la.”

Strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, and you leaned back into an unarmored chest. In hindsight, you chastised yourself for not noticing the words lacked the electrical buzz of a vocoder. 

“Din.” You returned.

He only grunts, right hand gliding up your side. It grips your shoulder, and presses until you turn to face him, bowl still gripped in your damp fingers. 

“You know, words are- Din!”

The porcelain bowl shattered as it collided with the kitchen floor. You’d dropped it out of pure instinct, hands flying up to cover your eyes. As much as you’d tried to forget what you saw, it was burned into your brain. Wavy hair, long nose with a scar crossing the bridge of it. Big, brown eyes that couldn’t possibly belong to someone so stern and ruthless. It flashes across your mind, and you almost tear up at the thought of Din breaking his Creed after all these years. 

But he’d pulled your hands away and explained - while your eyes are still pinched closed- that he was an apostate. The Child was returned to his own people, but at the cost of Din’s Creed. It had taken minutes of coaxing and reassurance, but you’d opened your eyes and cursed the universe for being so cruel as to hide such a face. From the set of his brow to the nervous biting of his lip, you basked in seeing so much bare skin. It took less time for him to attach his lips to yours and lead you out of the kitchen.

He’d taken you to bed, and now here you sit. 

Your room isn’t anything special. Quaint and cozy if nothing else, with two small windows that face out over the mountain’s edge. A fireplace flickers opposite the bed, its warmth trickling out to the sheets and heating your toes. Two bookshelves border either side of your headboard, with a nightstand tucked on Din’s side of the bed. On it, the usually extinguished candles burn bright. 

The firelight flickers against Din’s tan skin, highlighting each bead of sweat and curled tendril of hair where it sticks to his forehead. He’s naked, back propped against the headboard and covered in a maroon sheet from the waist down. You’ve donned a short silk robe, black and bordered with laces where it plunges between your breasts. You lay between his legs above the sheets, head on his chest. One of his large hands caresses your scalp and trails to the ends of your hair. The other hand is occupied by a half-full glass of old Corellian whiskey. 

You trace a line of yellow bruises on his hip where they extend below the sheet on his lap. 

“What happened to you?”

His chest rumbles. “I fought an Imperial Moff. And Imperial battle droids.”

Your eyes widen, and you sit up. Din’s hand leaves your hair to grasp at your waist, pulling you to face him.

“Stars, Din.” You reach out to touch a patch of black and blue skin over his collarbone. “No wonder you’re so beat up. I’ll get you some more bacta before we go to sleep.”

He lifts your fingers from his collarbone to his mouth, kissing each fingertip. “You’re too good to me, cyar’ika.”

“You deserve it.” Is your instant reply. 

If there was anything you knew about Din, it was that he never quite comprehended the good he brought to the world. 

The Mandalorian brings the whiskey to his lips and takes a swig. You opt to push an errant curl behind his ear. 

“I’m not a good man,” Your name falls off his tongue like honey. “Spent my whole life as kyramud.” 

You tilt your head at the Mando’a. He’d called you some pet names for years- mesh’la, cyar’ika. But this… kyramud was new. Without his helmet, hearing anything out of his mouth was like a drug. But Mando’a warmed you to the core, building off Din’s comfort and fondness when he spoke the ancient tongue. You yearned to know more. 

“Teach me Mando’a.” You kiss him gently, tasting the whiskey where it lingers on his lips. “So I can tell you why you deserve every bit of kindness.”

Din adjusts your legs so you’re sitting square between his, rear end on the bed and legs straddling his waist. He props you up with the ridiculous amount of pillows lying around. 

“I’ll teach you anything you want.” Din strokes your knee. “Where do I start?”

You chew on your bottom lip. “What am I to you?”

“Ner cyare.” He pauses, debating. The whiskey makes another appearance, and you’re distracted by his Adam's apple bobbing deliciously in the column of his throat. “Naysol uj par ni. Each day I see you is aay’han.”

“What does that mean?”

Din tilts your chin up. “My beloved. Too sweet for me.”

You blush. “What about the end? Ay-hen?”

“Aay’han. Mourning and joy. At the same time.” He finishes the whiskey. “I mourn when I leave you here.”

Much to your annoyance, tears prick your eyes at the reminder that when you closed them, he would be gone before you woke. “Don’t remind me. Please.”

Din leans forward to capture your lips with his. The sensation only serves to make the stinging behind your eyes worse, and a single tear drips down your cheek. He’s quick to kiss it away, large hand curling into your hair. You climb all the way into his lap, suddenly desperate for closeness. His skin is hot and damp, and you’ve never felt anything better. 

“Ni ceta. I never meant to hurt you.”

You sniffle against his neck. “Just promise me you’ll say goodbye from now on.”

He wets two fingers with his tongue and extinguishes the candles before cradling you in strong arms. Two words are murmured into your hair, quiet but sound.  

“I promise.”

You grip him tighter than ever, warmth sadly fading as the dread of morning envelopes you. 

*

The reflection of daylight off snow-covered ground wakes you. 

It bounces in your windows, bathing the room in cool white light. You blink slowly, a heaviness settled on all of your limbs. It’s a familiar soreness that aches from your shoulders to between your legs, dredging up memories of the night before. Din’s bare face, and all the sweet words in Mando’a that he tried to teach you before you remembered he can never stay as long as you’d like. You sigh, letting one of your arms dangle off the edge of the bed. The thought of turning over and seeing the candles, thinking about him blowing them out on each visit was too fresh. It’s easier to lay and stew in your sadness, watching fluffy flakes of snow fall. The clock on your wall reads ‘1457’, another unintentional reminder of your late-night escapades.

You hate to admit that the feeling makes you tear up again. So you lay in bed, curled beneath a thick comforter while the fireplace crackles its last few breaths towards your feet. It’s easier to stare at the snow than it is to close your eyes and think about Din. 

“Damn it.” You breathe. 

“What are you damning?”

You swear that you stop breathing for a moment. Despite the fact that he had already spoken, you ask aloud, “Din?”

The sounds of bare feet padding across the floor nears, and the Mandalorian appears in your vision. Barefoot and clad only in a pair of loose gray lounge pants that tighten at his ankles. His abdomen is without cover, displaying an array of healing bruises and deep scars. You sit up, letting your feet hang off the bed. 

“You’re still here?” You look at the clock again. “At 1500?”

Din smiles, kneeling in front of you. He presses a mug of steaming Caf into your hands and a kiss to your forehead. 

“If it’s alright with you… I might be for a while.”

It’s your turn to smile as he smoothes away your bedhead. 

“No arguments.” You sip at the warm mug. “I’ll keep taking my Caf in bed, though.”

___________________________________________________

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[pedropascallme]

☆Kinktober 2024☆

Day 2: Thigh riding

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) thigh riding, little bit of dirty talk, this came out so much fluffier than I'd intended but I'm not mad about it, if I missed anything please let me know!

He didn’t turn to look at you when you walked into the cockpit—didn’t so much as flinch when he heard your steps on the metal floor. He could see your reflection in the transparisteel, your soft shape reflecting off the canopy of the cockpit and into his visor.

“Mesh’la…” He breathed it through the modulator. You smiled as you closed the gap between yourself and him; wrapping you body around the back of his chair, splaying your hands on his chest and joining him in looking into the nothingness of hyperspace.

“How did you know it was me and not the kid?” You leaned your head against his helmet.

He didn’t respond, but you had a feeling that somewhere under all the metal, he was smiling.

“You know, sometimes I worry that you have the same freaky powers that he does.” You continued, dragging your hands over the armor on his abdomen. You knew he couldn’t feel it, but it was more for your own benefit.

“Why is that?” Even through the modulator, you could hear the gravelly amusement in his voice.

“You know too much.” You smiled, removing yourself from him to stand in his line of sight.

“Do I?”

He was goading you, in his own way. Maybe to someone else it would seem like the vague, brief response typical of a Mandalorian, but you knew he was working towards something. And it made you falter just a bit.

“Sometimes…” You shrugged, the shy smile on your face was directed towards your feet as you spoke.

“Just because I know you well, doesn’t mean I know too much.” He still hadn’t moved, letting you stew in uncertainty and the glare of the gaze you couldn’t see.

There was a pause then. You considered the weight of his words.

He was right. He did know you well. Your scent, your touch, your taste—he knew it all, better than anybody else ever had.

But beyond that, he recognized what you wanted, how you wanted it, even when it was something simple and would be, to many, seemingly unnecessary.

It just startled you to have someone—especially someone like Din—put in the effort.

“Did you come up here for something?” He broke the silence, pulling you back in.

“You weren’t in bed. I just figured you’d be here.” You played with your hands. “How long are we going to stay in hyperspace?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’ll see.”

“Ok,” you nodded, and despite his apparent standoffishness, you knew it was just Din being Din. It was simply how he was.

You knew he’d crawl back into bed eventually, when the thoughts stopped racing and he could take the time to appreciate your weight and heat against him.

You turned to leave, and he finally decided to move.

“Mesh’la,” his hand caught you by the stomach, forcing you to hang back. You looked down at him, bringing your hand up to cradle his. “Come.”

You took a step back, rounding the chair to stand in front of him. He spread his legs, situating himself comfortably and easing you into a straddle over one of his thighs. You leaned into his chest, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“You don’t want to sit and enjoy the quiet?” You asked, almost rhetorically, “Just look at the stars pass by on your own?”

You felt his hand come to rest on your lower back before he dragged it down over the curve of your ass and began to knead gently over your bed clothes.

“You came here for something.” It wasn’t a question this time. His hand swept upward, palm pressing into your back to force your body flush against him.

“Did I?” You held out, if only for a moment longer, just to see where it would get you. “You’re the one who knows me so well. You’ll have to be specific…”

He craned his neck to lean his forehead against yours, and his helmet pushed into your skin in a manner almost verging tenderness.

“Move your hips, mesh’la.” It was all he said before leaning back, removing his hands from you and opting to simply watch on.

“Din…” You whined, but your halfhearted protest didn’t stop you from doing as he said. You swayed your hips over his thigh, sliding over his armor and wrapping your hands around his neck.

He didn’t say anything, but his head tilted back slightly.

“I can’t,” you tried to argue, tried to get him to take pity on you so that he would put in the work and let you feel him. “Please—too smooth, it’s not enough.”

“Doesn’t seem to be stopping you from trying.” He growled, and he was right; you continued to grind your hips against him in a desperate attempt to find the friction you needed.

Your pleas caught in your throat, morphing into a whimper.

“You complain every time,” Din caved only a little, placing a hand on your hip, thumb brushing the dimple where your thigh met your abdomen, “But what always happens?”

You moaned into his neck, letting the metal that adorned him amplify your sounds.

“What always happens?” He pressed on, slowly beginning to push and pull on your hips in an attempt to help you.

“I cum,” you whispered it, a dirty secret meant just for him. “I always cum for you.”

He let out a deep hum, and you complied with the pressure his fingers dug into your skin; slowing your movements and allowing him to set the pace as he dragged you across the beskar.  

“Relax,” it was a command, one you obeyed immediately as you melted against him, giving in completely to his hands on your body and letting him put in the work for you. Arms still slung over his shoulders, you hands fell lower on his back, searching for purchase.

You could feel your slick coating his leg beneath you, the raw chill of the hardware that protected him absorbing your heat and making for a smoother ride. He pushed your hips back, tilting you forward and ensuring that your clit felt the stimulation of his thigh beneath you with every tug of your body towards him.

“Din—” Your mewl was barely audible beneath the thrum of the ship surrounding you, but he heard you.

He knew.

He raised his leg slightly, pushing it up with his toes and flexing under the beskar to give him the leverage to push you down hard against him.

You came with a weak gasp, clawing at his back and letting your fingernails drag lazily over his armor. He gently paralleled your movements, gloved hands rubbing shapes into your back.

Your head felt light, but your limbs rested heavy as you sagged against him.

“Wasn’t so hard.” His hands stopped moving, coming to rest on your thighs where they were still spread around his leg.

“Only because you helped,” you sighed, “Only because it’s you.”

That earned you a squeeze, possessive but chaste, where his hand sat on your leg. You squeaked out a happy response.

You began to stir after a few minutes, the slick between your legs creating a gluey tension between your bodies.

“I should check on him,” you started to move, separating yourself from Din, “If he’s up, he’ll be hungry.”

Your attempts to stand were thwarted as Din wrapped an arm around your waist. “He’s still asleep.”

“How do you know?” You let him pull you back towards him, repositioning you to straddle his waist rather than just one leg.

“Freaky powers.” Din’s visor bore into you, and for a moment you felt like you could see his eyes—big and brown, just as he had described them to you.

You laughed, the intimacy and his wit sparking something deep within you, as it always did, and your body came to rest again, slumped against him.

“Stay, cyar’ika.” The quiet request only served to magnify the feeling he’d sparked inside you.

“Don’t have to beg, Din,” you grinned, lips creating streaks on his armor and your breath fogged the metal on his chest. “I will.”

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 31st

Day 31: FREE FOR ALL

Mando x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Breeding ceremony, voyeurism, public sex, helmet stays on, aphrodisiac, breeding kink, breast play, multiple rounds, cream pie

|| Kinktober List || 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.

“Din! Din! Din!” The screams of pleasure echo throughout the halls, the rubble cleared and the forge once more lit. Mandalore is inhabited by Mandalorians again and now, new life is being conceived. 

Visors and eyes are fixed on the dias, the platform providing a unique view of the bed that has been placed there for this purpose specifically. Watching as your body writhes and shakes.

Your vision is hazy, clouded with lust and all you can see is the flash of beskar on his helmet as you bounce on his cock. The thick length feeling like he is pushed up into your throat while you rock on him. The jorgon juice that you had both drank before the ceremony making it hard to stop even though you have cum multiple times already. Your cunt leaking with his spend from countless orgasms. 

****

“Din Djarin.” You turn your head, hearing his name being called and nerves flutter in your stomach. No one can see it, it doesn’t show on the expressionless visor of your helmet, but you are barely resisting the urge to fidget. 

Watching as the Mandalorian in question pauses for a moment, as if he is surprised that his name was the one called before he steps forward towards the dias and where the Armorer stands beside you. 

You swallow, watching his long legged gait as he stalks with determination towards you. It’s a swagger in his steps, even though he always denies it when called on it. Everyone can see it, it’s ingrained in him from his years as a bounty hunter. His accomplishments marked by his fame in the parsec, the Outer Rim whispers of fear and awe. He is the mandalorian. 

Once he is in front of the Armorer, his armor nearly glittering in the flames of the forge, you hear her speak your name, the sound of it echoing through the great hall of Mandalore. “-has chosen you as her donor.” 

The crowd, helmeted and unhelmeted alike, start to beat their fists over the heart of their chest plates. The loud sound reverberated around the room. “Haav! Haav! Haav! Haav!” They start to chant, the word is quiet at the beginning and then starting to lift above the pounding of their fists, the approval of the crowd apparent when no one challenges it. The entire gathering shouting for the two of you to make your way to the bed on the dias. 

This is his chance to reject you. To melt back into the crowd and refuse the honor that you have ultimately bestowed upon him. You shiver slightly, although you seem to be the very picture of poise, statue still in your armor that will soon be stripped from your body. 

Din tilts his head slightly, his visor fixed on you and you can feel his eyes watching, gauging. The orange tips of his gloves flex at his side slightly and he twists back to look at the clan of Mandalorians that have now made this once abandoned planet home again. Breathing new life into the Creed that has all but been wiped clean of the galaxy by the former Empire. Hoping to grow your ranks and raise warriors. 

“I accept.” The clanging stops instantly, the shouting that echoes through the halls quiets. No one moves as Din steps forward again. “I accept.” He repeats, louder this time. 

The Armorer nods, motioning behind her and a tray with a cup is brought forward. “To aid you on your mission.” She hums as she picks up the chalice. 

You know that the helmet will stay on. It must, for his and your Creeds to remain intact. The ones who remove their helmets now understand why you keep your faces covered and no longer ridicule you for it. Both sects of Mandalore now coexist together for the good of your clans. 

When it’s offered to you, you take the chalice, lifting the bottom of your helmet and taking a sip of the slightly bitter, sweet drink. The tang of it laying heavy on your tongue and immediately heating up your body as it slides down your throat. 

Handing it to Din, you groan softly as he hooks his fingers under the edge of the helmet. Exposing just a bare inch of his throat, giving you a glimpse of his skin. The bulb of his Adam’s apple, the scattering of some facial hair, brown in color against the light tan of his flesh. 

You will create a child with this man. Not knowing the color of his eyes or the curve of his nose. You will take his cock, his seed, inside you and pray to the Creed that it takes root. That he plants a warrior in your belly to grow and birth. 

He swallows a mouthful of the liquid, groaning as he lowers the cup. Allowing the Armorer to take it from him. He reaches for the weapons belt at his hips and unclips it, handing his blaster to the Armorer to hold onto. Entrusting his weapons to her. 

Heat flares in your core, feeling the slickness starting to gather between your thighs as the juice starts to work. Biting your lip under your helmet when your fingers start to strip off your gloves to reveal your hands. 

Din hisses, his visor fixed on you, standing with his legs braced apart, you can see that his cock is starting to tent the fabric of his flight suit. Magically, assistance appears. Dozens of hands slowly and ceremonially strip the armor from his body and yours. The elders respectfully set aside the beskar, until the two of you are standing bare except for your helmets. 

His cock is heavy, stiff as it juts up from his groin and you lick your lips in anticipation. You have taken cocks before, but you are eager to feel him inside you. Pressing your thighs together as he reaches for you. 

Din cups your tits, fingers twitching and his moan is breathless under his helmet. Making you wonder when was the last time he touched someone without his gloves on. Seemingly overwhelmed as he rolls your nipples between his fingers and tugs on them to make you gasp his name quietly. 

He chuckles, the low sound almost cut off from the modulator. “You chose me, cyar’ika.” He reminds you, teasing and toying with your breasts as the crowd watches silently. Witnessing your coupling. “These tits will nourish our ad. Make them strong and healthy.”

Din normally doesn’t speak much, but now he seems to say everything that rolls through his mind, the jorgon juice lowering his defenses, relaxing him even as it makes him harder than a rock. 

“I did.” You nod, reaching out and wrapping your fingers around his length and making him hiss your name, immediately thrusting his hips forward into your grip. “This cock will plant a warrior in my belly and I will grow round with a child.” 

The voyeurism of the moment isn’t lost on you. The silence is poignant as heads turn, watching where you both fall to the bed. Witnessing the way that you straddle this mandalorian’s waist and start to sink down on his length, your cunt taking him with a low groan from both of you. 

You need a moment, panting softly as he stretches you out, his hands on your hips in a bruising grip. His own sounds come through his modulator and you wish for a moment that you could see his face. To see if it is twisting in pleasure like your own is. 

****

“Gon-gonna fill you up.” Din hisses, his hips rocking up with jerky thrusts, pushed deeper inside your tight walls. “Breed you.” 

Your eyes roll back, fingers digging into his chest where they are propped. “Yessss.” You whine. “Fill me up. Want it, want you to breed me. Breed me, Din” 

“Warriors.” He grunts, bracing his feet on the bed to thrust up harder. His hands pulling your body down. “You’ll give birth to warriors. My warriors.”

Your walls clench down around him, cunt spasming at the gravelly proclamation. It’s what you desperately want. To raise warriors for the survival of your religion. Your head tilts back, chest pushed out to display your tits as you start to cum again. Crying out loudly again, feeling him starting to take over the pace as he rocks his hips up. 

Din’s hands hold tight to your waist, his visor fixed on yours and you feel the way that his body is tensing, even as you shake on top of him. He’s about to cum once more. The bed beneath you is soaked in your juices and his cum, both of you sweaty and breathless. He lurches up, rolling you onto your back and he starts to hammer into you. Stealing your ability to cry out as you take his desperate thrusts. 

Stiffening, Din roars out a shout, cock twitching against your cervix as he paints your womb with his seed. Cumming in wave after hot wave as he grinds deep, pushing deeper into your body as if to plant it directly into your egg. 

This time, hours after the juice has been drunk and your bodies stripped of your armor, you no longer feel the need to continue. Din collapses on top of you, his helmet buried against your neck as he pants breathless. The slow, muted clap of gloved hands starts. One, two, three, on and on as the two of you lay together. If you were to look over his shoulder, you would see one hundred Mandalorians clapping, their applause starting to build in the chamber and ring out through the halls. Hopefully filling all of Mandalore with their hopeful cadence. Gifting you with their wishes that your union will result in warriors to wear beskar and walk The Way. 

[multific]

A Warrior

Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: You are awaiting his arrival.

As you sit on the edge of your chair, eagerly awaiting the return of the Mandalorian, your mind races with anticipation. 

The sound of his ship approaching grows louder and louder, sending a thrill of excitement through your veins. 

You can't help but wonder what adventures he has been on, what dangers he has faced, and what treasures he may have acquired.

You were also thrilled to finally see your son.

When he sent word of his arrival home, you could barely contain your excitement.

You cooked all of his and Grogu's favourites as you waited for them.

Finally, the familiar whirring of the ship's engines fills the air, and you jump to your feet, rushing to the window to catch a glimpse of the Mandalorian's arrival. 

The ramp lowers with a hiss, and there he stands, clad in his iconic armour, a stoic figure against the backdrop of the setting sun.

As he strides towards you, you can't help but feel a sense of awe at his presence. 

The Mandalorian is a legend in his own right, a warrior of unmatched skill and determination. 

You can't help but feel a surge of pride that he has chosen to return to you, to share his stories and his victories.

That he chose you.

As he enters the room, you can see the weariness in his posture, the weight of his battles etched into his features. 

But there is also a glint of satisfaction, a sense of fulfilment that comes from a job well done.

He hands you Grogu as you smile at your little one and hug him. 

You also offer a smile to your Mandalorian before you offer him a seat, pouring him a drink as he regales you with tales of his latest exploits.

You knew he wasn't the hugging type.

You hang on to his every word as he talks, captivated by his storytelling prowess and his quick wit. 

The Mandalorian may be a man of few words, but when he speaks, his words carry weight and authority. 

You can't help but feel privileged to be in his presence, to witness firsthand the legend in action.

As the night wears on, you find yourself drawn deeper into the Mandalorian's world, his stories of adventure and danger. 

"You need to sleep Djarin. You must be tired."

"Put the kid to sleep first." you smiled at him as you left so he could finally eat and drink.

Soon, Djarin came into your shared room. With his weapons safely put away, he joined you in your comfortable bed.

He let out a long sigh.

"Finally home, the kid missed you."

"Only the Kid?" you asked as you turned on your side to face him. He was lying on his back as he let out a low hum. 

"Maybe, I missed you too Meshla."

"Would be weird if you didn't miss your wife, Djarin." his arms moved as he pulled you closer to his body, with his armour also gone with his weapons, he only had his helmet on.

You felt his warmth fill you under the covers.

"I hate leaving you." he admitted.

"I know. But we do need credits to survive."

"I'm sorry that this is the life I can offer."

"Don't be. I was well aware of all of this when I met you and then later we married. If I wanted comfort and luxury I would have married Boba." Djarin pinched your side as you let out a laugh.

"Please, don't let yourself worry about that. I love you, and it is all that matters."

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum." (I love you) he whispered before he finally allowed his body to relax and fall asleep.

The Mandalorian may be a warrior, but in your eyes, he is a true hero, a beacon of hope in a galaxy filled with darkness.

And he just happened to be your husband.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Mine

Summary: A speeder ride with you gets Din more worked up than he anticipated. Good thing there's no one around and he could just... take care of his little problem.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Rating: E

Warnings: established relationship, smut (public sex, unprotected sex), feelings, Din is just really horny for his girl, marriage proposals

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The heat was slowly killing you. 

You still weren’t sure why Din insisted you had to come with him to visit Cobb Vanth. Not that you didn’t like spending time with Din. Especially one on one time with Grogu staying behind with Peli. 

But hourlong rides on a speeder through the hot desert were something you very much did not like. 

No matter how close you got to sit in front of Din while he piloted the speeder back towards civilisation. It would be a couple more hours before you would reach the gates of the city and you allowed your head to rest back against Din’s chest, the Beskar of his chest plate surprisingly cool to your heated skin. 

You had pulled a linen cloth over your head after getting sunburned so bad once before, only bacta helped, your head and body now shielded from the sun. Maybe you could sleep. Din wouldn’t let you fall from the speeder. 

Din on the other hand was slowly dying. 

You were constantly wiggling against him, trying to get comfortable. He heard every single sigh you released, could practically hear your thoughts. 

He knew how much you hated being out in the heat and on a speeder. 

You had told him about the accident you had with your father when you were younger, how only sitting on a speeder now made you uneasy. And he knew he should have left you back in the city. Maybe pay for a more comfortable room at an inn so you could enjoy some relaxing quiet time now that you were all free. 

But the selfless part of him wanted to have you with him on this little expedition. He had planned to ask you to marry him last night when you had smiled at him in the moonlight, but the words had been stuck in his throat, overwhelmed with how lucky he was to call you his. 

You continued to wiggle in front of him, most likely trying to figure out a position that would be comfortable for the next few hours. 

Which was fine. He wanted you comfortable. 

The problem was all your wiggling against his crotch made him hard.

See, last night he had many plans for you, plans that involved celebrating you hopefully saying yes to his proposal, but you ended up being so exhausted from the day long travel that he had to carry you to your bed where he watched over you all night instead of making you scream his name. 

It was insane to travel back today but Cobb hadn’t even been there for their meet up and you both decided it was better to travel back and then leave the planet. 

Somewhere colder. 

Somewhere he would finally ask you to marry him. 

„Din?“ He heard you ask. He tilted his helmeted head towards you, feeling you shiver as the cold Beskar rubbed over your skin, the linen cloth falling from your face. 

„Can you find a spot for a quick break? Somewhere with shade?“ You asked. 

„Of course,“ he promised, already looking around, the many sensors in his helmet looking for a spot, finding one only a few minutes later. 

You hummed satisfied as you saw the spot he was approaching with the speeder, a mountain formation with some dead trees in front of it. 

Din groaned when you pushed your body back against him and he could hear your gasp of surprise when you felt him hard against your ass. 

The speeder slowed down until he parked it right under one of the old trees in the shade and he took a deep breath, enjoying the little shade the mountains and trees were providing.

The spot looked like a dried out waterhole. 

You closed your eyes, pulling the fabric that covered your face down completely to take a deep breath, your body resting against Din’s. 

He brought one of his gloved hands down to rest on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. Biting your lip you pushed your ass against his crotch and you felt him tense for a moment before his other arm wrapped around your middle, pulling you even closer against him. 

„All your wiggling made me hard,“ he groaned and a small smile came to your lips. 

„And you driving this made me wet,“ you said and his fingers on your thigh tensed.

„What are you gonna do about it?“ You challenged and you could feel the deep breath he took, his chest rising against your back before his hand dropped down between your legs, cupping your clothed pussy. 

„I’m gonna fuck you on this speeder. In the middle of the desert,“ he said and you hummed. 

„Yes,“ you gasped, his fingers rubbing against you. Your lips parted, your head falling back against his chest.

The next moment he was off the speeder, turning you around so you were sitting with your back towards the handlebar, his hands protectively keeping you up as he stood between your legs. His helmet tilted, looking down at you and you sucked your bottom lip in, letting go off his hands, to take your top off, hearing him groan through the modulator of his helmet as you exposed yourself to him. 

He ripped his gloves off, his hands cupping your tits in his big palms. 

„Such a good girl for me. Letting me fuck you out in the open, huh?“ He hummed and you nodded eagerly, and he pinched one of your nipples, making you moan. 

„Lay down for me,“ he whispered and you slowly let your back lay down on the worn leather of the speeder, your hands coming to rest behind you, holding onto the handlebar.

Din’s hands ran up your thighs until his fingers hooked into the waistband of the pants you were wearing, 

„Up,“ he hummed and you obeyed, arching your back first so he could pull your pants and panties down before you raised your legs and he took them all the way off, leaving you laying completely naked in front of him. 

„Maker, you’re beautiful,“ he said in awe and you smiled up at him as he stepped closer, his hands parting your legs, his finger slipping through your wet pussy, humming as he found you wet and ready for him. 

Biting your bottom lip you watched him as he unbuckled his belt, followed by the sound of his zipper and finally his hand pulled his beautiful cock out of his pants, his fingers closing around his length, pumping it slowly as his helmet tilted down to look at your pussy. 

Your eyes closed as he used the tip of his cock to play with your clit, circling it before he slipped it through your pussy, pushing into you just so the tip filled you before he pulled out again, playing with your clit again. 

„Always so wet for me,“ he praised and you whined, one of your legs hooking behind him, wanting him inside of you. 

„Please Din,“ you whimpered, looking up at him, „Fuck me,“

And finally he did, pushing his cock into you in one deep thrust, pushing the air out of your lungs as he filled you completely.

„Yes….“ You moaned and he slowly began to move at first, letting you stretch around him, getting used to his girth, because no matter how often you took him, it was always a stretch.  His hands pulled at your legs so they were laying over his shoulders before he took hold of your hips, fucking into you faster, harder, making you cry out. 

„Wanna make you mine,“ he grunted, his fingers digging into your skin as he fucked you harder. 

„I’m yours. Always will be,“ you whined, already feeling close. 

„Yeah?“ He asked and you nodded. 

„Fuck yes,“ he groaned, changing the angle of how he was fucking into you, hitting that one spot that made you see stars, and you moaned his name. 

„There it is,“ he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. 

„You gonna be my good girl and cum for me?“ He asked and you only nodded, your lips parting, gasping for air every time his cock hit that spot. It only took another couple of his thrusts for you to cum, body shaking as he fucked you through your orgasm. 

„Always get so fucking tight for me. Gonna make me cum,“ he groaned and you nodded. 

„Please Din. Please cum inside me. I wanna feel it,“ you whimpered, clenching around him as he continued to fuck into you, a small smile sneaking to your lips as you felt him twitch, inside of you, pumping his cum into you moments later, groaning your name until he stilled, his cock still inside of you. 

You let go of your grip around the handlebars when he reached for you, letting him pull you up against his chest, shivering when you felt the cold Beskar against your skin.

Your eyes were closed when you saw him reach for his helmet, pulling it up just so he could kiss you softly, his lips moving over yours. 

„Marry me,“ hummed against your lips and your lips parted in surprise, your arms crossing behind his back, wanting to be even closer.

„Yes,“ you smiled, shrieking when he pulled his helmet off to kiss you properly. 

[whxtedreams]

Familiar yet Foreign

A Din Djarin x f!reader oneshot

Summary: In the depths of Canto Bight, you find something you thought you lost; his trust.

Written for @burntheedges roll-a-trope challenge - my trope was fake dating/marriage.

Word Count: 3.7k

Tags: fake marriage, untrustworthy reader, mentions of past injury, one bed hehe, protective!din, unwanted male attention, fear of loss, handcuffs, thief!reader.

Main masterlist - series masterlist

Canto Bight, the infamous, glitzy gambling hub, was a paradox.

On one hand, it was no place for a thief like you. With security cameras, guards and wealthy patrons on high alert.

On the other hand, the place was ripe for a skilled crook like yourself. With the promise of hefty winnings on the casino floors and in private games, temptation was everywhere. The dimly lit alleys and extravagant parties provided perfect cover for those with the expertise and daring to take advantage of the high-stakes environment.

In a way, Canto Bight was both forbidden territory and an opportunity waiting to be seized.

The only problem was you had made a promise to the Mandalorian you were traveling with.

The Mandalorian, or rather, Mando, had stood in front of you where he had sat you on a crate on his ship earlier that day. His arms crossed over his chest. The glare you knew he gave you, hidden behind the helmet.

"Listen," he said, "you're going to sit here and you're going to stay out of my way. You're not going to cause any trouble, not going to bring any attention to yourself. You're going to stay right here. Got it?" His voice was cold and unwavering and his stance made it clear that the matter was non-negotiable.

You had waited ten minutes after he left before you left.

There was too much to see and steal after all.

The city was a sprawling, pulsating beast by night. The dimly lit alleyways and shadowy rooftops were your playground as you navigated discreetly through the city. You moved like a ghost, flitting from one venue to another. From the lavish cantinas to the high-rolling casinos. Your fingers were nimble and sure, plucking riches from the hands of the wealthy as easily as if they were picking ripe fruit.

You had missed this, the thrill and adrenaline of a thief's life.

Mando was like a jailer recently, keeping you caged on his ship. He had refused to let you leave for months. The reason was clear - your error. It wasn't just a simple slip-up; it had led to an injury that had stained both Mando’s and your hands with your own blood. It had caused the bounty hunter's protective instincts to kick in. He was determined to keep you under his watchful eye, his actions both a punishment and a precaution. The atmosphere on the ship had turned heavy with tension, the silence broken only by the hum of the engines and the occasional sigh or muttered curse from the stoic warrior.

He used to talk to you, used to seek out your company.

It had been months since a conversation lasted more than five seconds.

You felt so lonely.

The air of Canto Bight was like a drug, a potent mix of excitement, opulence, and thrill. It was just what you had been craving. The atmosphere was electric, the glitz and glamor everywhere you looked. The streets were filled with people eager to gamble, party, and seek out adventure. The promise of a good time and the chance to escape your mind was intoxicating and you found yourself drawn in like an Alderaan furry moth to a flame.

You were navigating the cramped, labyrinthine ventilation shafts as you tried to avoid detection of the guards. They had thrown you into the trash filled back alley as you tried to enter the high states casino. It was a risky move, but you had done it many times before.

You were skilled at getting into places you shouldn’t be in after all.

 However, this time, your luck ran out the moment you crawled out of the vent and made a turn into a narrow corridor. Unknown to you, the hallway was not empty. You turned the corner and head butted into a solid, metallic surface. As you looked up, blinking in surprise, you realized with a pang of dread that you had head butted Beskar.

Mando.

Shit.

"I can explain," you said. The words tumbled from your mouth in a rush as Mando’s gloved hand grabbed hold of your wrist.

“We can talk about that later. I need you.” He said.

You trailed behind Mando, your footsteps echoed softly in the dimly lit corridors. The music from the cantina below was a distant, booming pulse. Its sound muffled by the thick walls but still strong enough to fill the air. The occasional glimpses of flashing lights spilled out through the doors you passed and it painted the floors in a deep purple hue, providing the only source of illumination in the otherwise dark and ominous hallway. You could feel the tension in the air and the Mandalorian's steps ahead of you seemed purposeful.

Mando came to a sudden halt in front of a guard that stood in front of large golden double doors. His hand that had been grasping your wrist just moments before moved to rest on your spine. You felt a slight pressure, a silent command to stay put. You looked up at Mando, confusion and curiosity in your eyes as you tried to puzzle out his actions.

“Mywife,” Mando said.

His what?

Before you could open your mouth to voice your confusion, Mando’s hand gave a sharp tug at your shirt and pulled you against his chest. The sudden movement caught you off guard and you stumbled into him, your back now pressed firmly against the cool Beskar. The question that had been forming on your lips died on your tongue as you felt the solid presence of the warrior behind you.

The guard looked you over, his expression skeptical as he took in your bewildered face. He raised an eyebrow and directed his attention back to Mando, his tone unimpressed. "You sure about that?" he said.

“It’s new,” Mando replied.

“Very new,” you said.

Your gaze shifted from the guard's face, which was locked in an intense, one-sided staring contest with the Beskar helmet behind you. To your left, a framed sign on the wall caught your eye. It was a gaudy, overblown declaration advertising a casino room beyond was open to married couples only.

Oh.

“My wife and I would like to play Sabacc. Now.” 

The guard sighed.

“Fine, but one wrong move and I will throw you out. Mandalorian or not.” The guard grumbled as he opened the door for you to step through.

Mando steered you through the threshold of the doors and into the crowded, lively room beyond. Round tables were strategically placed throughout the space, each occupied by couples absorbed in either their game or live Fathier Racing holograms. Groups of people roamed the floor as they moved from table to table, eagerly watching the games and races unfold. Along the walls, secluded booths provided intimate spaces for groups of people, their conversations hidden behind the low, padded barriers. The air was thick with tension and excitement. The hum of chatter and the clink of credits filled your ears.

Credits to steal.

“I can feel your fingers twitching.” Mando said.

You stole a glance at Mando. His helmet faced away from you as he scanned the room. His gaze moved from table to table, taking in every detail just as you had but for an entirely different reason. His hand was still pressed firmly against your back, its weight a constant reminder of his presence. It was familiar yet foreign. You could feel the slight tension in his touch, the subtle way his fingers pressed through the fabric of your shirt. A silent signal for you to stay close.

You clenched your fists tightly, the action a meager attempt to control the tension that coursed through your body. Your fingers dug into your palms as Mando turned his helmet to look down at you. You could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, even through the visor of his helmet. You took a deep, steadying breath, maintaining the neutral expression on your face despite the hammering of your heart against your ribcage.

"Are you going to behave?" The low hum of his voice behind the modulator sent a shiver down your spine as he spoke. You swallowed hard, struggling to find your voice as you nodded stiffly in response.

“Always.”

He scoffed; the sound muffled through the modulator in his helmet. His hand tightened in your shirt as he gripped the fabric firmly.

“I don’t need a repeat of last time.”

Despite the gruff and frustrated tone in his voice, there was a hint of gentleness in the way this hand smoothed the fabric of your shirt, his touch surprisingly careful. With his guidance, he led you to an empty booth at the back of the room. The dim lighting provided a secluded area away from the main gambling tables. You could sense the tension in his stance, the controlled strength and power coiled beneath his armor. As he motioned for you to sit, his presence loomed over you like a shadow.

As you settled yourself on the cold metal bench of the booth, Mando’s voice cut through the hum of the casino. "If I tell you to stay, will you?" His visor was trained on you, the purple dim lights above the booth casted shadows across his already intimidating visage.

You nodded.

He shifted his weight and rested his hands on his hips. He then cocked his head to the side, his gaze locked onto you. He exhaled, the sound a deep, mechanical huff, as if he were gathering his thoughts or summoning some inner strength.

With a swift, practiced movement, Mando unclipped a pair of cuffs and secured one around your wrist. You felt the cold metal pinch against your skin, the sound of the click as the cuff locked into place. Without a second thought, he attached the other cuff to the heavy table leg, effectively tethering you to the booth.

“You understand why I don’t trust you?”

You nodded again.

Because you do. You really do.

Once you were secured to the booth, Mando leaned in close. The cold, hard surface of his helmet mere inches from your face. In a low, firm voice, he informed you that he would return once he had acquired the information he needed or captured the bounty he was hunting. The weight of his words and the situation's gravity settled over you like a leaden blanket as he took a step back, his figure disappearing into the crowd of gamblers.

So, there you sat, bound to the booth. The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. You could have easily slipped free the cuffs and you knew Mando was aware of this fact as well. This waiting game was a test, a trial to see if you could be trusted again. If you had the discipline and restraint to stay put despite the temptation to flee.

You waited for him.

Around the two hour mark a burly Weequay pushed his way into the booth beside you. The weight of his body caused the metal bench to creak and groan under his weight. He settled into the space with a smirk, his eyes scanned you up and down with a leery gaze.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you said.

"You here all alone?” The Weequay leaned back, his arm slid over the back of the booth and came to rest behind you with a casual familiarity that immediately set your nerves on edge. He chuckled softly as his eyes lingered on your bound wrist. “And handcuffed?” His other hand reached for your bound wrist.

Just as you were about to snap a retort at the Weequay, a deep shadow fell over the booth. Your eyes instinctively lifted to find the source. In front of you stood the imposing figure of the Mandalorian, every inch of his body radiated tension and anger. His hands were clenched tightly by his sides, his stance wide and aggressive, as if he was barely holding himself back.

The Weequay's face twisted into a frown as he turned around, his gaze locked onto the imposing figure behind him. The cocky expression fell from his face and he visibly tensed, his body jolted in surprise at the sight of the armored warrior. He swallowed hard; his confidence vanished like smoke in the wind.

 "If you want to leave with your hand attached," he stated, each word punctuated clearly, "I suggest you take your hand off my wife." Mando's voice was as cold and hard as the Beskar he wore, the threat in his words clear and unequivocal.

The Weequay's eyes widened in surprise at the term "my wife," and his head whipped over to look at you. He stuttered over his words, his eyes darted between you and the Mandalorian. He hastily slid out of the booth; his apologies spilled out of his mouth in a rush as he took in the sight of the furious Mandalorian towered over him. In a heartbeat, he turned on his heel and scurried away, disappearing into the crowd.

The moment he left; you could see the tension in Mando’s shoulders relax. In his hand was a drink, the condensation on the outside of the glass glinted in the casino lights. With a nod, he placed the drink on the table beside you. The liquid within beckoned to you, the cool, cold condensation a tantalizing promise of relief. You practically lunged for the drink, your parched throat relishing the cool liquid as you downed it all in one gulp.

“Your wife, huh?” You smiled as you put the empty cup on the table.

After watching you practically inhale the drink as if dying of thirst, Mando bent down as he ignored you. With a swift motion, he unlocked the cuff around your wrist and freed you from the booth. He then stood straight again; his gaze fixed on you.

“Got the information I needed. We can head back to the Crest.” He said as you rose from the booth.

Mando’s reaction was instant as you reached out and grabbed his wrist, his body jolted at the unexpected touch. He turned back to face you.

“What?”

You looked up at him, your hand still wrapped around his wrist and suggested, "What if we get a room? With an actual bed, maybe?"

He stared at you.

“I may have stolen enough credits, so I can pay for it myself?”

His visor betrayed no reaction, but his body seemed to tense beneath your hold. Then, he nodded.

Mando seemed to consider your suggestion for a moment before he spoke, his voice gruff beneath the modulator. "Fine," he said, the word coming out as a reluctant agreement. He then adjusted his grip, his fingers wrapping around your wrist instead. "But only because you didn't run off," he added as he pointed his finger at you, a note of subtle approval in his tone.

As he pivoted on his heel and began to lead you through the casino, you couldn't help but smile to yourself. There was a sense of triumph in the way he tugged you along, your hand encircled by his sturdy grip. The sound of the casino faded into the background as you followed him through the corridors and to the lobby.

The moment Mando reached the counter, he reached out and rang the bell. After a moment, the guard from earlier emerged from the back room, his expression a mix of tiredness and irritation. The guard let out a long sigh, leaning heavily on the counter as he recognized the armored figure before him.

"Two rooms," Mando said. With a flick of his hand, he tossed a small stack of credits you stole onto the counter and it clattered against the hard surface.

The guard darted from the credits to Mando’s helmet and raised his eyebrows. “Two rooms?” He asked.

Mando remained still as he stared at the guard.

 "Now, why would a husband and wife need two rooms?" he sneered, a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. The guard crossed his arms across his chest, as if challenging the Mandalorian's response. The tension in the air thickened as he stared at the guard, his grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly.

“One. Room.” Mando said and you felt the anger radiate off him.

The guard raised an eyebrow at Mando's tone, seemingly surprised by the man's demeanor, but he quickly snatched the credits from the counter and handed Mando one room key.

With a swift, almost violent motion, Mando snatched the key and remaining credits from the counter. The guard's fingers barely moved out of the way in time.

It wasn’t until the door shut behind you with a soft click and a sense of isolation enveloped you that you noticed Mando's shoulders relax again. His rigid stance loosened as if shedding the tension that had been weighing heavily upon him. The dim lighting of the room cast dramatic shadows across his armor, but for a moment, in the quiet of the room, he looked less like an intimidating warrior and more like a man struggling to hold onto his composure.

He walked past you, his movements purposeful and measured and made his way to the chair in the corner of the room. He spoke as he sat down, the sound of the chair creaked slightly under his weight as he folded his arms. "I'll take the chair," he stated, his voice flat and matter of fact. He leaned back in the chair, the metal of his armor clinked against the wood.

You sat down on the edge of the bed closest to him, the springs of the mattress dipping slightly beneath your weight. You looked over at Mando seated in the chair he had claimed as his own. "I'm sorry," you said.

His helmet flicked up to glance at you, but other than that he didn't move.

You sighed.

“I’m sorry you can’t trust me like I want you to.”

“I did trust you.”

You looked up at him and nodded slowly.

“I trusted you to trust me and you-” he stopped himself with a deep sigh and shook his head, “Do you know I still find your blood in the Crest?”

Your eyes closed involuntarily as shameful memories flooded your mind. Flashes of his shaking hands on your bloody body in the dimly lit corner of the Crest. The memories played out in quick, vivid snapshots, like photos being shuffled in a deck of cards. The sound of his angry, raised voice echoed in your head. Its volume and intensity were a stark contrast to his usual collected and calm demeanor.  His hands tearing at your clothes to get to your injuries. His hands holding you down as you cried. Your cold body drenched in your own blood. His cries as he held you. You could almost feel the fear that oozed from him, a fear you had never seen in him before, and it terrified you more than your injury had.

“I can’t see you like that again,” he said.

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes again, the memories still lingered like ghosts in the back of your mind. Without uttering a word, you nodded in acknowledgment.

You turned away from him, your focus shifted to the bed that seemed too large and too empty for just you. The words "Sleep with me?" left your lips before you could second-guess yourself, your voice almost a whisper in the quiet room.

“What?”

“I miss you Mando. I won’t touch you, I just - miss you.”

Without a word, he stood from the chair.

Mando did not take his armor off like he used to. He did not slip under the covers, instead laid on top of the sheets. He did not hold you close to his chest like he had for countless months.

The distance was palpable; not just the space between your bodies, but also the distance between the connection you once shared.

Instead, you found yourself clutching the soft fabric of his cloak in your hands as you laid beside him. The scent of him that had once seemed soothing and comforting was muted by the metallic smell of his armor. Fatigue tugged at your eyelids, your mind teetering on the edge of sleep as you held onto his cloak. The bed seemed too large, too desolate without his embrace.

He was so close yet so far.

Familiar yet foreign.

As you were on the verge of that sweet surrender of sleep, his arm moved around your waist and pulled you gently closer to him. His touch was unexpected, his movements cautious yet deliberate. Your body slotted against his armored form, the cold touch of his armor against your skin a sharp contrast to the unexpected warmth that spread through you at the contact.

“Can I trust you? Will you trust me to keep you safe? Because I can’t see you like that again and I need to know if I can trust you to listen to me when it matters most,” he said. You could hear the strain in his usually calm and collected voice. The underlying hint of fear in his tone.

You nodded into his side, the strength of his grip on your waist a comfort. You had no intention of leaving his side again, the memories of his angry voice and shaky hands was still fresh in your mind. You wanted to stay close to him, for him to trust you in the way he once had.

He nodded as he sat up in the bed, his movements methodical and practiced. You silently watched as he began to remove his armor, each piece came off with a series of clicks and scrapes as he unclasped and untethered the Beskar from his body.

He left his armor stacked neatly on the chair; each piece placed with a level of care. Then, he returned to the bed, the mattress dipped slightly as he slid under the sheets. His body warm against yours.

You could have cried.

You did cry.

The warmth of his bare hand against your stomach as he pulled your back against his chest emanated more than just physical comfort. The solidity of his body against yours was a reminder that he was there with you. His touch was firm yet gentle, his fingers splayed over your stomach in a way that suggested he was afraid of letting go. You sank back into his embrace, the steady beat of his heart against your back a soothing lullaby you had not been able to sleep without.

You weren't alone anymore.

Notes

Did I stay on track of fake marriage? Maybe? – listen I tried. I sat down to try and write this three times and scrapped it three times before I finally stuck with this. But regardless, I had a lot of fun doing this! I haven’t necessarily written in the Star Wars universe before, only AU’s with Din so this was very intimidating. I did, however, like writing it. It was just scary because I didn’t want to describe something incorrectly or not write it correctly?