#mandalorian imagine

[joelsbloodyhands]

Mine

Din Djarin x Reader, The Mandalorian x Reader

Summary: Your employer is pissed when you come back from getting information about a bounty with a bruised hand mark around your neck.

A/N: I kinda just wrote this one because I had a vague idea and ran with it. I think everyone is going to learn very quickly in my writing that clearly jealous/overprotective Din is my fave version of him 🙈

Warnings: reader gets choked and not in the nice way (only talks about it), overprotective Din, Din is your employer but clearly wants to be more, death and m!rder (all in the name of love) 🤗, mentions of blood and bodily harm, mentions of slave traders, fluff with a little bit of spice✨, soft!Din but also a little bit reckless!Din 👀 smut references but not written too explicitly but still MINORS DNI, business associates to lovers arc? 😅 not set at any particular point during the series.

READER does not have a specified gender, they/them pronouns used. Reader does not have a visible disability.

You’d been gone too long and Din was getting anxious.

This hadn’t been his original plan.

The contact for information regarding the bounty had unfortunately been highlighted as a previous foe of his. He’d busted them prior when their bounty puck had fell in his lap over a cycle ago.

Trust Karga to let the man redeem himself by providing intel on high-level bounties with the incentive of remaining out of the hands of the Rebellion that for some reason unbeknownst to Din, wanted his head on a stick.

Why had Din let you go and barter for the information again?

“He won’t suspect me to be a threat.”

Oh right, yeah. That’s what you said.

Except Din was probably worrying about the wrong thing because the biggest threat would be the ex-criminal you were meeting with at Mos Espa Cantina.

“Go say hi to Boba for me. Get the boy fed and I’ll be back soon.”

Din was losing his edge.

On what kriffin planet did he give in to such a request?

You were in danger and he knew it.

He knew it and he still sat in the markets with Grogu, twirling wupiupi coins in his fingers for the past half hour while his son slurped another bowl of pog soup.

Why?

Well, that was easy.

Since the past year you had been travelling with him, Din had grown to have affections for you.

To start he kept you at arms length.

Brief answers to your curious questions turned into nightly talks between your bunks. Subtle touches to guide you through busy and sometimes treacherous places turned into lingering holds in his grasp, fear of losing you to the crowds. He found himself watching you far longer than he ever had before and during times when he didn’t necessarily need to. The sound of you using the fresher while he tucked in his little green son had his heart pounding and a certain area of his armor feeling a little bit too uncomfortable.

He grew more and more protective the further you strayed without him.

He no longer wished for you to venture into dens alone to ask for information on his behalf but he couldn’t deny that you were good at it.

Better than him.

You were calm and collected.

You had a level head.

Something that he could very easily lose control over should Grogu and yourself be threatened by a contact. Though it was the one thing you had learned you could assert yourself over since Din’s change of heart.

You had a job that needed to be done and you were the best person for it.

So Din caved far quicker than he normally would with allowing you to go the cantinas and talk about bounties, pay and information. It sped up the process for Din to track them and also meant he didn’t have to deal with the unwanted chit chat that came with meeting up with Karga.

Something you enjoyed. Something that had Din’s palms itching whenever Karga took your hand to help you stand from the booth, Din’s clenched fist aching to wipe the smug look of his face when he turned back in his direction.

“I like her, Mando. She’s good at getting what she wants.”

He knew you were.

Din wasn’t sure if he was included on the list of things you wanted but you sure as hell were on his.

There was times he had a inkling.

Especially when he was feeding the kid and he caught you looking away when his eyes found you scraping away at your lunch.

Times when you would grab his hand without hesitation and pull him through midnight markets towards the sights of fireworks. Din’s heart warming at the wide smile plastered across your face, the powdery shades of red, blue and green lighting up in your eyes from the sky.

Damn, he was down bad and he had no idea what to do about it.

Technically, he was your employer.

Juggling Grogu and his job was a difficulty. Most of the time he was happy to venture out with Grogu in his carrier or pod but his bounties got, let’s say, brave in their efforts to deter him. Going so far as to aim shots towards the child. They learned his weakness and Din hated it.

So with much reluctance to start, he asked Peli if she would be interested in babysitting him for a price but of course she refused; even with the money on the table.

“Not a chance but I know just the person for the job.”

He had slid the money off the table and walked back to the ship without another word until she scrambled after him.

“Hey, hey, hey! Just hear me out, okay?” Din had sighed, turning back to her from the top of the ramp while she stood hands on her hips and a smile growing. “There’s this kid that needs a job. Call ‘em a distant relative, if you will. They’re desperate. Need money, board, food, water and they’ll make sure your little boy is taken good care of. I swear!”

“Have they taken care of children before?” Din asked inquisitively but also with a half mind to ignore Peli completely and close the ramp in response to her proposal.

“Yeah! Loads of times! They’re a professional!”

Din doubted that very much. He knew Peli’s tactics for selling him an offer and he couldn’t deny that she was good at it.

Fine, he’ll bite. Again.

“Call them.”

He just remembers Peli’s grin, your soft voice on the end of a comlink and then a speeder sounding just outside.

She had presented you to him like a rare gift and he was less than happy to receive you at the time but more than a few rotations later, you had thrown yourself in front of a bounty that had tried to commandeer his ship, their blaster aimed for Grogu in his bunk, taking a graze to the side before Din shot him dead.

You were willing to die to protect his son.

That was more than he could’ve ever asked for.

Later when Din was back at the Crest, you returned.

He had spent the past hours pacing up and down the ramp like a mad man.

Originally, he had planned to detour from the markets with Grogu over to the cantina but you had used your comlink to tell him you were already near the ship.

That was interesting because Din got back to the ship and you weren’t even here.

Which begs the question, why did you lie that you were already nearby?

Maybe he was being paranoid. His fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly, stressing about your whereabouts and the obvious reason as to why he was so stressed to begin with.

So when he’d heard your footsteps up the ramp, your voice calling for Grogu, you were both surprised to see the other staring back.

“Where have you been?” Din questioned gently but you sensed an underlining annoyance to his tone.

“I detoured, sorry,” you sheepishly smiled, holding up a bag of frog meat. “I saw a vendor selling this and I knew Grogu would be happy about it. Not to mention,” you brush past him, eyes focused solely on the sleeping child snuggling into his hammock on Din’s bunk, “it would be nice to see him not eat a whole frog for once.”

You laugh and it eases Din.

Of course he was just being paranoid.

“And the contact?” He says and you remain with your back to him, reaching your hand in carefully to tug the blanket over Grogu’s body. “He give us what we need?”

“He did,” you respond and Din satisfied, presses the button to bring up the ramp and close the hatch. The sound of it whirring so loud, in need of some oiling so much so that you had probably thought he missed your quiet words.

“What was that?” His helmet turns your way when the hatch closes with a loud creak.

“I said, somewhat.”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t being paranoid after all.

Din feels his nerves wash over him, noticing how you’re not even turning around as you address him. He takes you in. You don’t seem discomforted, angry or emotional. You’re incredibly calm.

Though that was worrying.

Normally, you came back from having debriefs with the informants with a story to tell.

“It was quite scary actually. They had this wookie with them but then you’ll never believe this guy! Stood there, blaster in hand, immense glare in his face, goes and shoves a fist in his satchel, I’m ready to throw hands and I shit you not, Din…wookie pulls out a cookie and starts crunching away at it!”

“Have you ever met a Gungan, Din? I think they’re my favourite people I’ve ever met. I mean they were all like, yousa follow us now, okeyday? Seriously! Oh gooberfish! I love them!”

“What do you mean by somewhat?”

You sigh.

This wasn’t good.

“I’m sorry, Din. They gave us the last location. I think that’s the most important thing.”

“What about if they’re solo or run with a crew? We need to know what we’re walking into, otherwise we could get bombarded the moment we land.”

This wasn’t a simple bounty. This guy was one of the worst out there.

A slave trader.

It angered Din to even think about it.

“Something happened,” he doesn’t let you tip-toe around the subject. “What are you not telling me?”

You fall silent and that’s enough for him.

Something did happen and what’s worse, you don’t want to tell him.

He moves towards you and you turn on your heel, ready to protest. Din had only meant to just embrace your shoulder gently to ease you into a conversation he thought you needed to have but the slightest wince had him drawing back almost immediately.

With his steps halted in front of you, the air cold, the crest filled with silence, Din’s visor drops instinctively to your neck.

Was it getting cool? Sure, when it was getting late. Though right now, it was still early afternoon and you never wore a scarf in Mos Espa outside the settlement and in the dunes.

“Did he touch you?”

Din has to bite back the growl threatening to crackle through his modulator.

Your head drops, eyes on the floor and the look of regret on your features make Din pray to the Maker that he’ll kill the man just for the expression on your face.

Then you unravel the scarf and Din wastes no time.

His hand had pulled your collar back gently, his shoulders stiffening at the purpled marks there.

You grimaced before trying for a smile but he sees the way your eyes plead with his, “Before you ask, it looks worse than it feels. I’m fine, Din. Let’s just go.”

He remembers you calling his name after that.

Only once because you knew as you watched him brush past you, grabbing two vibroblades from his armoury and charging down the steps towards the town, that there was nothing you could say to stop him.

And you were right because less than five minutes later, Din’s blades were impaled on the informants hands, stapling him indefinitely to the table at the cantina while onlookers ran completely, hid or dropped their heads from his view.

Then his gloved hands were on his throat, squeezing the life out of him.

An eye for an eye.

You hadn’t explained why the man had strangled you and it was pointless anyway.

He had no right to touch you.

To hell with Karga.

He’d lose an informant but that informant chose to fuck with what was his and that was worth more than any information.

When Din felt the life leave him, he dropped a number of credits to the table, looked up at the barman and walked away. His last words being, “you can keep those,” shrugging his shoulder towards the blades on the way out.

Now back at the ship, you sit rigidly on the bunk while Din gently swipes a lotion of bacta over your wound with a cotton wipe.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.”

Your eyes flicker to his visor and you know he’s evading your gaze.

You sigh and for a moment, he think you’re not going to reply until your hands gently take his, stopping him from tending to you.

He lifts his visor then, meeting your concerned eyes, your fingers intertwined with his on your lap.

“I can handle myself. You know that, right?”

Oh. So that’s what this was?

You were worried he thought you incompetent to end up in this circumstance?

Of course you would think that. He’s your employer. You only want to deliver good work for him.

That’s not all this is anymore though and Din can’t pretend and let you go on feeling like a failure especially with the tears dancing on your waterlines.

“You are very capable, mesh’la but-“ Din sighs.

How can he even begin to explain to you that he’s more angry at himself for not protecting you like he’s supposed to?

Kriff, you’re not even a bounty hunter. Trained to use a blaster as a novice, he noticed how you flinched whenever you’ve had to pull the trigger on his behalf. You’re at your calmest when you’re rocking the small boy before bed, singing lullabies to him in a hushed tone probably so Din couldn’t hear. You had no idea that he stood just above the ladder to the cockpit and listened.

You were ethereal and he couldn’t get enough of you.

That’s why it made his hands shake to even think that anyone would harm you.

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts, he misses the way your eyes widen at the term of endearment he let slip and the quick gesture as you shake yourself from how affected you are by it.

“I just…” you break through his racing thoughts, his eyes latching onto your dipped chin, eyes shadowed in the corner of the docking port, just outside his bunk. You look solemn but rather than feel dread, Din’s heart stills when he notices the flush of pink across your features.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were nervous.

“I just want to be able to do more for you.”

The words play on a loop, almost like they’re colliding against the inside of Din’s helmet, repeatedly soaring through his ears again and again.

“I want to be more useful for you. Ya know?”

Useful? You think you’re not already useful?

“Sometimes I just feel like I have more to offer. I know you brought me in to be a babysitter but I can be more than that. For you.”

Was the carbonite freezing system failing or was it getting hotter in the crest?

Din felt like he needed to tug the shroud off from around his neck. The air was suffocating.

“Please say something?” Your small voice says quietly.

“You are more to me than you will ever understand, cya’rika.”

Your eyes meet his then.

Well, his visor at least and Din curses his creed for having him hide his face at a time when he wants- no needs you to see how much he means what he says.

You’re silent but the increasing rouge of your cheeks is enough to see that you understand him and that perhaps there was some truth in his suspicions.

You felt for him just as much as he felt for you.

“Din…”

And just like that, his eyes roll back momentarily hearing his name leave your tongue like a pleading prayer.

He couldn’t pretend like you weren’t affecting him too.

He needed you to know.

“Get in the bunk, ner kar’ta.”

Your body stills a moment in surprise and you don’t move.

Maybe he misjudged or maybe he’s being too forward but then you stand and without taking your eyes away from him, you seat yourself on the side of his bunk.

Waiting for him.

Waiting for further instruction just like you’ve been doing ever since you walked onto his ship.

One thing he realised he misjudged.

All those times you obeyed every command, it was never out of the need for his money.

You never questioned him, never refused an order but with Din and the matter of Grogu’s safety, it was never a request and that’s all it was to start.

It was just a matter of his sons safety until he realised he loved you too.

Din stands and steps in front of you, you look up at him as he tugs the shroud from around his neck loose.

He notices how your eyes drop to his waist, evading the reveal of his tanned skin while you’re positioned below him. He wraps the material a couple of times before placing the fabric over your eyes.

You don’t move.

You don’t flinch.

You just allow him to remove one of your senses, leaving nothing but darkness over your sight. His heart aches at the trust you have in him, allowing him to render you vulnerable before him.

He ties it behind your head, making sure it’s not too tight as to hurt you.

He’s not the same type of man as the monster from earlier today.

His fingers itch at the memory and he shrugs his gloves off, setting his bare fingers against the cold metal of his helmet.

You await patiently and he watches as you jerk your head slightly at the familiar sound of his helmet releasing.

The sound you’ve only ever heard from a nearby room, hiding away from him when you brought him supper.

You await patiently while Din removes each piece of armor, setting it aside.

Then there’s just silence.

Until you hear his knees hit the ground in front of you and a warm breath hits your neck, a shudder running up your spine.

“Is it okay if I show you something?”

His whispers hit your ear drum in the most delightful way.

You nod dreamily.

Then you feel rough, warm lips graze your neck.

If heaven was travelling at light-speed through space, it was right here and now with Din’s lips travelling along your jawline, mapping out the path to seal against your lips. He tugs gently, coaxing you out of the shy shell you had created when you realised the butterflies he made you feel when you first met had more to do with how attracted you were to him than to how intimidating most people found him.

Every step he took on each planet you travelled, Din carried a powerful aura that most people cowered away from but it only drew you to him more.

You knew Din was strong.

You knew not many could beat him in a fight, yourself included but that was the whole point.

Din would never abuse his strength over you.

Ever.

Though, you wish he would, in special circumstances.

Like right now.

“How do you feel, cya’re?” Din inquires breathlessly, lips pressing soft kisses down your throat while you bite back the urge to be vocal.

“I wish we’d done this sooner,” you say uneasily, your hands gripping the bunk below you.

Din’s chuckle hits your ear, reverberating against your ear drum exquistively.

“Din?” He hears your voice rattle with every nestle of his lips stroking over your skin.

“Yes, mesh’la?” He raises his head, lips brushing the underside of your jaw, watching your lips turn up into a small smirk. Though you couldn’t see his expression returning yours, his adoring smile awaited your next words patiently.

“You killed him, didn’t you?”

You feel a thumb smooth over your bottom lip.

“He deserved it,” you shake your head slightly, fighting away an amused smile on your lips that he quickly wipes away, replacing with an expression of longing when his lips meet your ear.

“You’re mine.”

[ddejavvu]

Mandalorian and Jedi!Reader, maybe where Mando tries to bring reader in for a bounty some ex imperial put on her head and he ends up having a MASSIVE crush on her instead

Soft Din has my heart 🫶🏻

"Can you stop that?" Din throws a scathing look over his shoulder where you're occupying Grogu in a rear seat of the unmarked freighter he's piloting. This job wasn't an easy one; Jedi aren't often willing to be tracked, but now that he's got you, he needs to deliver you without arousing any suspicion, which a shiny new ship is not useful for So, despite the smell of livestock that lingers in the walls of the ship, you're all piled into its boring, beige cockpit.

"What, making him laugh?" You scoff at Din, fingers still carefully poking and prodding at the baby's sides where he squeals with laughter, "It's called happiness, Mando. You should try it sometime."

"He's little," Din reaches out to scoop Grogu into his grip, tugging him away from you, "You're gonna hurt him. You're supposed to be a bounty, not the entertainment."

"Have you forgotten he and I were raised in the same temple?" You reach for Grogu who's staring pleadingly at you over Din's shoulder, one of his little hands outstretched, "I used to feed him mashed meilooruns."

"And now you occupy your time by liberating imperial cruisers of their fuel."

"Can't chase me if the tank is empty." You shrug, "Hey, Grogu, honey, watch this!"

You use the Force to snag Din's blaster out of its holster, and when he grabs for it, you use your other hand to lift Grogu over his shoulder and back into your lap.

"See? Stealing is easy and fun," You grin at the expressionless beskar mask staring your way, and Grogu giggles in delight where he's back in your lap.

"Stealing gets a bounty placed on your head. I'll be sure to buy some mashed meilooruns for the kid with the credits you'll get me."

"Right," You scoff, "You're gonna show up to meet this imperial goon squad, you're gonna hand me over, and they're just gonna let you waltz out of there fifty-thousand credits richer despite having a force-sensitive child in your possession?"

Din's leather glove creaks as he tightens his hold on the controls.

"Face it, buckethead, the only way you're getting those credits is if I help you. We'll fake 'em out, you keep my saber and toss it to me after they pay you. Then I'll chop 'em up and we can get outta there before they get their hands on Grogu."

Prolonged silence seems to be all that Din can offer in your presence aside from stinging quips, but he hears Grogu's babbling giggle break the tension where you've tapped a finger at his button nose. The sound eases some of the weary tension that's been on Din's shoulders since the second he'd made a deal with Imperials, and he's glad he has his helmet on to prevent you from seeing the way that the annoyance in his face softens.

"Fine. But there's no way you're coming with us afterwards. I'm dumping you on the first stable planet we come across, and you're not getting any of the credits."

"Poor Mando," You croon to Grogu, "Ahsoka didn't teach him about projecting his feelings, did she?"

Grogu rambles back to you in some unknown attempt at language, and before Din can ask what 'projecting' means, you're grinning up at him.

"You've got a deal, Mando; no money, no free rides around the galaxy. Just keep getting soft under that bucket of yours, and we'll figure out a better plan on the way out."

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 29

Din Djarin + Excessive Cum

Hey yall, super late to finish kinktober, hows everyone doing? Changing my major has been a lot more work than I imagined besides usual classwork, so its only now ive had any free time to write. But I still want to finish kinktober, even if its late.

On the shorter side, since I just wanted to finish kinktober.

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Din Djarin let out a shaky whine, soft and quiet enough that the vocoder of his helmet almost didn’t pick it up. He was never one to make much noise, even when you guys had been apart for long when bounties were drawn out, or when you were busy in return.

The only way you could truly tell it had been too long, was the way Din couldn’t control his hips, and how they jolted and twitched into your hands or mouth. Hed jump and jolt like a rabbit, giving short and fast thrusts of his hips as if he couldn’t control himself or his reactions.

He was always so full after you two had been apart. Din never saw a reason to get off on his own. There hadn’t been much need for it before you two got together, when all that mattered to him was bringing credits back to the clan. And after you two became an item, Din only felt it made sense to allow you to be the one to bring him that pleasure.

Hed never known what he was missing as your hands twisted and pulled at his weeping sensitive cock for the first time, his balls so full you almost cooed at him in pity. It must have been so uncomfortable to be so backed up, to be so incredibly full and heavy, ready to blow from the smallest of touches.

The lack of skin on skin contact Din experienced only added onto it, making him even more sensitive as he oozed and dripped in your hands. It seemed as if his body was trying to catch up to the many years of neglect he had given it, now that it knew you were there to empty his balls when they got too full.

It left Din desperate and panting whenever you got your hands on his dick, after you would remove as little armor as possible to get to his crotch or ass. Sometimes he felt like an animal, his jaw hanging open as his eyes glazed over under his helmet. The Mandalorian felt as if you knew the exact expression on his face, even if you couldn’t see it, making him pulse even more.

You were always shocked at just how much Din could cum, no matter how many times you tried to empty him out or milk him like some kind of cattle. It only ever resulted in Dins noises getting so loud that his vocoder crackled at the volume and pitch, his legs shaking as he tried his damnest to fuck into your grip, no matter how sensitive he was.

There was so much to catch, so much to swallow, there had even been a few times where the sudden gush of spend had made some of it shoot out your nose, only making Din moan even louder when he saw it.

it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that someone who never got down and dirty with another being, had a lot of fantasies, and luckily for Din, you were willing to try out most of them, even if that meant allowing Din to stand or kneel above you and spill his seed all over you until he was drained dry.

It was attractive, sure, but also made a real mess. Lucky for the both of you the ship you spent most of your time on had the ability to air out, or else the entire thing would reek of your intimacy. And the closet full of cleaning supplies was restocked regularly. In the end you just liked making Din feel good, and you couldn’t blame him for shooting like a firehose. At least it was hot.

[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/

[entitled-fangirl]

I know you made her your riduur.

Din Djarin x reader

Summary: Din finds his little clan held captive by Moff Gideon with the Darksaber. He intends to do anything to get them back.

Warnings: kidnapping, mention of blood, fighting, threatening

Author's note: I'm a huge sucker for protective Din, so any requests of that is more than fine by me...

Masterlist

..........................................................

The door slid open to a sight Din never wanted to see.

Moff Gideon held the dark saber above the Mandalorian's clan.

Y/N and Grogu.

The two were in cuffs, the child in the woman's lap.

When she saw the familiar beskar, she let out a breath of relief, "…Mando…"

He stepped through the doorway slowly with his blaster pointed at the man. But he knew it did no good.

"Drop the blaster." Moff Gideon commanded.

When Din hesitated, Gideon lowered the blade closer to the woman's head. 

The soft white glow from the saber illuminated the woman and child's faces, only spotlighting their concern gazes on the Mandalorian.

But Din could barely see it through the red anger that was clouding his vision.

"…Slowly."

Din obeyed, setting the blaster on the hard metal floor.

Y/N shifted in her chair, "Don't… please."

But Din didn't care. 

As much as her frail voice made his stomach drop, he would do anything to guarantee that he could keep hearing her voice forever.

Even if that means surrendering.

"Now kick it over to me."

And Din did so. He pointed to his family, "Give me the kid and the girl."

"They are just fine where they are."

Just to tease the beskar-wearing warrior, Moff Gideon menacingly brushed the blade back and forth, mere inches from the girl's head.

She grimaced slightly, looking down at the child.

Moff Gideon didn't care to even look at them, "Mesmerizing, isn't it? Used to belong to Bo-Katan. Oh, yes. I know you've been traveling with Bo-Katan. A friendly piece of advice, assume that I know everything."

Din shifted his weight to his other leg, as he contemplated what to do.

"Like the fact that your wrist launcher has fired its one and only salvo. And that only two weeks ago did you make this pretty girl your riduur."

Din's voice hardened through the modulator, not only tired of the situation, but angered by the mention his weaknesses. "Where is this going?"

"This is where this is going: I'm guessing that Bo-Katan and her boarding party have arrived at the bridge, seeking me or, more accurately, this." He held the saber up. "See, but I'm not there. And I imagine that they've killed everyone on the bridge, the murderous savages they are. And now, they're beginning to panic.

"You see, she wants this. Do you know why? Because it brings power. Whoever wields this sword… has the right to lay claim to the Mandalorian throne."

Y/N's eyes shift up to Din at this information. She takes note of the light glow that reflects from his armor.

"You keep it." Din says immediately, "I just want the girl and the kid."

Moff Gideon tilts his head in consideration, "Very well. I've already got what I want from the kid. His blood. All I wanted was to study his blood. This child is extremely gifted and has been blessed with rare properties that have the potential to bring order back to the galaxy."

Din finally lets his gaze move to the woman and child. He takes notes of the small cut on Y/N's cheek, the unshed tears that sit in her eyes. The child seems unscathed enough, but his eyes are just as saddened as the girls.

"I see your bond with the child," Gideon continues. "Take them."

Din steps forward.

Moff Gideon's voice becomes low, "But you will leave my ship immediately and we will go our separate ways."

Din nodded, moving to his little clan.

Gideon stepped forward to let the Mandalorian do so.

When his gloved hands connected with Y/N's, Gideon ignited the saber, swinging it right into Din's back.

Y/N had never been more thankful that Din wore beskar. 

He grunted at the impact, immediately blocking the next swing with his armored arms.

He managed to get the battle away from the two hostages as he lured Moff Gideon into the hallway. 

As much as Y/N wanted to help, she knew she was in no state to do so. And she could help Din the most by protecting the child.

She stood up with him in her arms, moving towards the sound of the saber hitting beskar.

She stayed in the doorway, watching the two fight.

Finally, Din got the upper hand and kept his spear pointed at the defeated Moff Gideon who slouched on the ground.

The dark saber had been thrown from his hands, and now resided on the floor near Y/N. She hesitantly picked it up and pocketed it.

"You're sparing my life? Well," Moff Gideon smiled, "This should be interesting."

Din took a moment to remember the girl and child. He turned to see them standing in the hall a few feet back. He motioned them towards him.

Y/N immediately walked to him.

Din managed to get the cuffs off both of them, and only then did he relax.

His hand wandered to Y/N's cheek, lightly grazing over the cut there.

She leaned into his touch, "You came for us…"

"Of course I did. I made vows to you, and I intend to keep them." He lets his eyes wander down her frame, "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, hugging the child to her, "We're just fine. Are you… are you alright?"

His helmet moved just barely in a nod, "I'm alright now."

She smiled, reaching into her pocket with the arm that didn't hold the child to retrieve the saber. "Here…"

If only she could've seen his own matching smile under his helmet, "Thank you, cyare."

He turned back to Moff Gideon, letting his voice harden once more to the warrior he was, "Let's go."

And just like that, Y/N felt safe next to the man who would kill anything that stood in his way.

.........................................................................

[hyperactively-me]

tension

You've seen his face countless times, but every time the helmet comes off, it's as though you're seeing him for the first time over and over again. His expression is more than it's normal stoicism; it's vulnerable, raw. His big brown eyes come into contact with yours as you reach up, your fingers gently brushing through his messy curls. Din closes his eyes for a brief moment, savoring the contact. "Hi there, handsome," you murmur softly, allowing your fingers to linger on his strands of hair. "You clean up well, don't you?"

massaging din’s sore, aching muscles ... leads to ... yeah. I'M SORRY (not sorry at all) PUT ME IN HORNY JAIL FOR THIS IDC. it started off so innocent but then the horny monster came out and took over.

tags: smut, OILED UP DIN DJARIN, I REPEAT, OILED UP DIN DJARIN. established relationship

Din has no issue praising and worshipping you with nothing but love and adoration. In fact, it feels like second nature to him.

When he's the object of your praises, though, he doesn't know how to act. He's caught off guard by your doting attention, your quiet praises, your gentle touches.

The gruff exterior that comes so naturally to him becomes a bit more pronounced when faced with compliments and affection.

His usual response was to deflect and downplay, wanting to be the one in control, the one doing the praising rather than receiving it. It's not that he didn't appreciate your words; it's just that the vulnerability of accepting them was difficult for him.

In those moments, you read his body language like the back of your hand. You could see the conflict in his eyes, a mixture of gratitude and discomfort. He had been alone for most of his time in this cruel galaxy, had spent so long being self-reliant, not needing validation from others, that being on the receiving end of such genuine affection challenged his identity of being the stoic, impenetrable Mandalorian.

So, when he finally comes back to the Razor Crest after catching an elusive bounty, you know exactly what to do to put him at ease, to show him how much you love him, your riduur.

You catch his hand before he can take any of his armor off.

"Don't. Let me do it," you say gently, tugging his hand away.

He stares at you with that ever stoic expression you know he has on his face right now beneath the helmet. A few beats pass, and he relents, letting his wrist fall limp in your grip.

"Thank you," you whisper quietly, now running your hands up his shoulders.

You start with his baldric and belt, catching it in your grip as you unfasten the clasps. It's surprisingly heavy in your hands, and you're already a bit weary to take off the beskar.

Next, you slip his worn brown cape off his shoulders, the rough material scraping across your fingers. You can still feel traces of warmth around the part that was settled around his neck and shoulders.

Din stands before you, now with his baldric, belt, and cape out of the way, the beskar armor still encases his form. You take a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship of the beskar, tracing the shiny metal with your fingertips. The material is cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the warmth of his body you can barely feel radiating off his form. Din still stands rigid, hands flexing at his side.

His gaze remains steady, a silent acknowledgment of your request. You take charge again, delicately unfastening the clasps of his shoulder pads and removing the plates, and you can feel just how tense even just his shoulders are.

You set them gently to the side and start to work on his chest plate, easing it away from his torso with careful precision. The beskar plates release with a loud clinking sound, revealing the fabric of his flight suit beneath. You can clearly see Din's chest rise and fall with a steadiness that betrays the controlled exterior he presents to the world. With a small grunt, you ease the heavy beskar chestplate to the side, shooting Din a look when he tries to take it from your grasp.

"You said you would let me do it," you whisper, a playful yet stern glint in your eyes.

He sighs through the voice transmitter, yet allows you to continue your process of taking his armor off.

His shoulders sag forward ever so slightly as the weight of the chest plate is removed from his body, grunting with relief as he rolls his shoulders back a few times.

Next, you move on to his vambraces, unlocking the beskar from his arms. As you work on removing the vambraces, the sleeves of his flight suit ride up and you notice the subtle scars and markings on Din's forearms. You're careful to not drop the one loaded with bullets and other small weaponry.

Your hands move with a practiced gentleness, and you can sense Din's quiet appreciation for the care you're taking.

As the small pieces of armor joins the growing collection of beskar beside you, the room is filled with a sense of intimacy, a shared vulnerability palpable between you two.

Din stands before you now, the upper half of his body free from the encasement of armor. The warmth of his skin is more perceptible, and you can see a slight relaxation in his demeanor.

You move lower now, unfastening the straps securing the beskar that adorns his thighs. Your hands brush against his skin, and that's when he starts to shift side to side. You smile to yourself as you set the pieces to the side, letting your hands drag from the back his knees down to his shins to remove the final pieces.

Beskar greaves protect his shins, and you get on your knees to remove them. You don't miss the way his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you on your knees before him, but he refuses to move a muscle.

Carefully, you unfasten the straps securing the beskar greaves, allowing them to slide down his shins. Your hands move with a deliberate gentleness as you catch them, setting them on top of the stack of armor. Now that all of his armor is removed, you can clearly tell Din is now more relaxed, not as rigid.

His head his angled directly at you, the black t-visor of his helmet piercing through you. You smile softly up at him, pushing yourself to standing but not without him grabbing your hand to help you up.

You know what he's thinking. You know what he wants. He'll just never say it.

You press up onto your toes, placing your hands on his shoulders. His hands finally move, coming to rest on your waist as you lean into where you think his ear would be.

"Later," you whisper seductively, and he firmly squeezes your waist in his grip.

You take a step back, now turning your focus back to his leather gloves. Taking his left hand in yours, you spread his fingers out so you're able to slip his glove off his easier. The leather glove comes off smoothly, revealing his calloused yet gentle hand beneath. You set the glove aside, repeating the action on his other hand.

Din watches you with that unyielding gaze, his helmeted face betraying no emotions, and the tension in the air does anything but subside.

As you remove the second glove, you can't help but admire his hands; how large they, how strong they are. They're the tools of a warrior: skilled and precise, calloused and graceful. With his hands now bare, you step closer to him, your fingers tracing the lineaments of his palm. The warmth of his skin contrasts with the coolness of the beskar that once covered him. His hands are strong, yet there's a gentleness in the way he allows you to explore them.

You finally look up to his helmet, clicking your tongue with disapproval. You couldn't really get his shirt off without stretching out the neck over his helmet, and we can't have that, can we? Poor shirt, all stretched out. Oh well! Looks like we have to see your beautiful riduur's face!

You run your hands on the underside of his helmet, tracing the hard edges with the pads of your fingers. Suddenly, you latch onto the edges and slowly start to pull it up and off his head. Din's breath catches as the helmet is lifted, his nose twitching ever so slightly.

The helmet comes clean off, revealing his face, his dark hair tousled from the snug fit. You're met with his intense gaze, and for a moment, your own breath catches in your throat.

You've seen his face countless times, but every time the helmet comes off, it's as though you're seeing him for the first time over and over again.

His expression is more than it's normal stoicism; it's vulnerable, raw. His big brown eyes come into contact with yours as you reach up, your fingers gently brushing through his messy curls. Din closes his eyes for a brief moment, savoring the contact.

"Hi there, handsome," you murmur softly, allowing your fingers to linger on his strands of hair. "You clean up well, don't you?"

His lips twitch in a hint of a smile, eyebrows quirking at your playful comment.

"Are you going to finish, cyar'ika? Or are you going to finish undressing me with just your eyes?"

You roll your eyes at his remark, fighting back a laugh at his nonchalant comment.

"I guess I do have some unfinished business," you reply, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt.

You guide his shirt up and over his head, pulling it off his form and letting it fall to the floor. You're met with his tanned, toned chest, marked with scars, the silent stories of the battles he's fought.

You run your fingers lightly over the contours of his chest, savoring the feeling of his tight muscles and soft stomach. He shivers under your touch at the way your nails drag across his skin, pressing into it ever so slightly. Din watches you closely, his gaze never leaving your hands. With a soft smile, you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his skin between his shoulder and upper chest.

Din's fingers find their way to your hair, but you pull back, now grabbing the waistband of his pants. You tug them down quickly, helping him step out of the pant legs, but leaving him in his loose boxers.

You reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and guide him to the bed. There's no rush, no urgency. For both of you, it's a moment to savor, to appreciate each other in a quiet, peaceful moment. Before he lies down, you pull him down for a chaste kiss, savoring the way his lips taste, the way his patchy mustache tickles your face. As he finally moves to lay down, you wordlessly motion for him to lie on his stomach, and he complies. He settles onto the bed, propping himself up with his forearms.

You retrieve a bottle of oil from a nearby table, and the gentle scent of lavender fills the air as you warm the liquid between your palms. You straddle his lower back, and immediately Din is biting his tongue to withhold any premature sounds.

The moment your hands come into contact with his broad shoulders, he's a goner. Your touch is firm yet tender, your fingers finding all of his knots and tension, coaxing them to release.

The room is quiet, save for the occasional satisfied hum or grunt from Din. As your hands move down his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, you slowly feel the tension in his body dissipating.

Your fingers trace the faint lines of his scars, and you can't help but marvel at the beauty of the man beneath you. He finds solace in your touch, a promise that in this moment, he can let go and just relax.

Din's body responds to your touch, his tension gradually melting away. Your hands move with a soothing rhythm, exploring every inch of his back and shoulders. The oil makes his skin glisten in the soft light of the room, and you revel in the way his body looks as though it was carved by the Maker himself.

As your hands work their way down his spine, you occasionally lean down to press soft kisses on his back. The combination of your mouth and hands on him causes Din to shudder, the sensations pulling him into a deep state of tranquility. The rise and fall of his breath shifts into something more rapid, yet you don't catch on quite yet. You lean down, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of his neck, and he responds with a soft hum of contentment

Shifting off his back, you move down to his thighs and calves, continuing to massage his muscles with the same deliberate care. His fingers twist into the thin sheets of his bed, groaning as you knead into his thighs. The tension in Din's muscles seems to subside even more as you move farther down his legs, the oil dripping from your hands creating a smooth glide as you knead his skin.

As your hands move down his legs towards his feet, you notice the subtle tremor in his muscles, a sign that your touch might be affecting him more than he's letting on. You can't see that he's biting the inside of his cheek, stifling every pathetic groan he wants to let out.

You reach the soles of his feet, and he reflexively curls his toes at the sensation. A small chuckle escapes your lips, and you gently press your thumbs into the arches of his feet, eliciting a low, appreciative groan from him.

With a soft smile, you decide to shift the massage to his upper back and shoulders again, allowing your hands to linger in the areas that are the most tense from his heavy beskar. As your fingers work their magic, you lean in close to whisper in his ear.

"Almost done," you murmur, your warm breath sending shivers down his spine. "Does it feel good?"

Din responds with a throaty, affirmative noise, and you can't help but smile at the effect you're having on your typically stoic Mandalorian.

Your hands trace patterns over his skin, kneading, massaging, and occasionally trailing higher than expected. His breathing becomes more uneven, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body.

The atmosphere in the room drastically changes from innocent and relaxed to something more sultry, the air thick with repressed tension. You can sense Din's arousal, the subtle shifts in his breathing, the way his muscles tense beneath your every little touch. A playful smile crosses your lips, realizing the effect you're having on the usually composed man.

The occasional brush of your fingers against more sensitive areas elicits involuntary reactions from Din, his groans growing more audible.

"Enjoying this, aren't you?" you tease, your voice a sultry whisper as you lean down to place soft kisses along his shoulder blades.

"Teasing me, aren't you?" he growls back, looking back at you with a heated expression.

"Maybe a little." You smile innocently. "But the best things are worth the wait, aren't they?"

Din responds with a low, husky chuckle, a sound that reverberates through the room.

"Yes," he states simply, his voice catching in his throat when you slide off his back.

You beckon him to turn over onto his back, and he complies. Once again, you straddle him, now sitting directly on his hips, over his crotch. Taking more lavender scented oil, you lather it onto your hands and start to knead into his chest. His hands reach up to grip your ass, squeezing your flesh.

You feel Din's chest rise and fall faster as your hands start to work over his toned muscles. The oil slicks up his chest, and your fingers glide smoothly over his skin. You can practically feel his desire for you that simmers beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. Din's gaze is intense, and you meet it with a playful yet innocent smile.

"Fuck, cyare," he groans as his hands trail up your sides, the touch possessive yet gentle.

As your hands continue their ministrations on his chest, you lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss. The taste of his mouth is intoxicating, and Din responds with a hunger that surpasses your own. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you to grind you down over his crotch, and you can feel the pressure of his cock against your core.

"Easy there, Din," you murmur as you pull away from his lips. "We've got plenty of time."

The sound of his name rolling off your lips never gets old to him, and he shudders at the sound.

You sit back, your hands now trailing down his abdomen as you move to sit in between his thighs. Grabbing his hands, you knead into his palms with your thumbs, maintaining an eye contact that you know drives him absolutely crazy. Din's eyes are dark with arousal, and he watches you with a hunger that sends shivers down your spine.

Eventually, you finish the massage after you feel the tension fully dissipate from Din's body. He lies there, relaxed and content, basking in the afterglow of your touch.

Without waiting any longer, you finally give the man what he wants. You bring his hand up to your mouth, and without hesitation, you stick two of his fingers in your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his thick digits as you maintain eye contact with him, eliciting a low growl to escape from the depths of Din's throat.

"You- you fuckin' tease, mesh'la," he growls as he starts to sit up. You take your free hand and push him back down, not letting him sit up.

You push his fingers deeper into your mouth, sucking them harder as your tongue runs over the pads of his fingers. Your other hand comes up to his thigh, resting dangerously close to his now fully erect yet still clothed cock.

After a moment, you release his fingers with a wet pop, a mischievous glint in your eyes. Din's breathing has become more ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly with anticipation and arousal.

"Feeling better?" you ask innocently, sliding your hands up and down his thighs.

Din nods, swallowing thickly as he locks his eyes onto yours. Without breaking eye contact, you start to slide off your shirt, slowly revealing your skin beneath. Din's gaze intensifies as you slowly lift it up and off your form. Once your shirt is fully off, you let Din rove over your form, and you revel in the way he looks at you with a thirst that mirrors your own.

He tries to reach out for you again, but you stop him.

"I'm still not done. Be patient," you say gently, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

"Mesh'la, how can I be? I have to reward you; you've been so good to me, too good for me—"

You press a finger up to his lips, silencing him.

"Please, let me make you feel good. Please. You always take care of me. Let me take care of you. 'M gonna make you feel so good."

He takes a beat, studying your face with his mouth slightly agape.

Finally, he nods in agreement, his eyes on fire. You remove your finger from his lips, giving him a sickeningly sweet smile.

Your hands trail over his shiny, slick chest, down to the waistband of his boxers. Din's fingers twist in his bedsheets, a silent reaction for what he wants: more.

With deliberate intent, you dip your fingers beneath the waistband, teasingly close to his cock. His arousal is quite evident, straining against the fabric, and your fingers brush over his length; a feather light, teasing touch. He watches you with a hunger that's impossible to ignore, and you can't help but feel giddy at the way you make him feel so good, so appreciated, so loved.

Din inhales sharply, his knuckles going white at the grip he has on his sheets. You move your hands back up and delicately hook your fingers into the waistband, pulling it down slowly. The boxers slide down his legs, revealing his cock, and you discard the fabric on the floor.

You take a moment to appreciate your Mandalorian naked in front of you, vulnerable, and yet as powerful as ever in his raw masculinity. What a sight for sore eyes. Every square inch of his skin is coated in the lavender oil, his skin shining under the dim lighting of the Razor Crest. His body is sculpted perfectly, strong and lean, the power of his muscles evident from one look. The scars that span his skin, small and large, have their own story. You reach out, tracing the lines of a particularly prominent scar on the side of his abdomen with gentle fingertips.

Din studies you with a soft intensity, his eyes holding a warmth that he reserves for you, and only for you.

Your eyes trail up to his face, studying every lineament and pore, every little hair and freckle. He's so extremely handsome you could pass out.

How he chose you, you're not sure. All you know is that this man who has promised to be your protector, stay by your side, and be your partner loves you, and you love him.

"You're beautiful," you murmur, pure admiration coursing through your veins as your fingers now trace the curve of his jaw and the contour of his lips. "Absolutely perfect, in every single way. My big, strong, handsome riduur."

Din's mind goes blank, face and ears heating up as his mouth falls agape. He just studies your eyes, your lips, your nose, every little unique feature you have. Swallowing thickly, Din nods his head just a fraction of an inch, but you catch it; he's acknowledging your words, accepting them in his own way.

Your fingers finally find their way down the shaft of his cock, shifting your attention to his member. His breath hitches as your hand wraps around the base, and you begin to move in a slow, teasing rhythm. His eyes flicker to the sight of your hand wrapped around his cock, staring at the way you pump your fist up and down. Your thumb brushes over the sensitive tip, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Din.

You lean in, pressing a tender kiss to the base of his neck, then to his chest. You start to kiss down further, from the top of his chest to his happy trail.

"Kriff..." he mutters, his hands loosely grabbing at your face.

You keep moving, now pressing kisses on the length of his member. His grip becomes sloppier as your lips trail down his cock towards the tip, pressing a feather light kiss on his leaking slit. He grunts as the sensation, sensitive and aching for your pretty lips to be wrapped around his cock. You give a swirl of your tongue around the tip, earning a sharp, deep moan from Din.

"Kriffing- perfect," he groans, his hips bucking a few times at your touch, begging you for more. His fingers weave through your hair, a silent encouragement.

With that, you finally lower your mouth over his cock, eliciting a long, drawn out moan from the man. You rest your hands on the base of his cock, pumping the bottom half of his length while your mouth takes the top half. Din absolutely revels in the way your mouth feels against his cock; hot, wet, and velvety soft. His head rolls back against his pillow as your hands squeeze tight around the base, stimulating every inch of his length. You take him in your mouth inch by inch, sucking his cock gently at first, but providing more pressure the farther down you go.

"Fuck— fuck- ing perfect, pretty girl," he groans breathlessly, making you hum in satisfaction. His hips involuntarily buck up as he feels the vibrations from your hum, causing the tip of his cock to poke the back of your throat. You choke on it, but you steady your breath enough to keep going down.

Din fights the urge to fuck your mouth, gripping onto his sheets tightly with one hand as his other hand tugs at your hair. You release a quiet moan of your own when he pulls your hair, encouraging you to take him deeper.

Din's eyes are half-lidded now, a primal need burning within them. He watches you with an intensity that makes your own desire flare. His sounds of pleasure, the way his hands feel on you has yourself throbbing with need, your core painfully clenching around nothing. Your panties are surely soaked through by now, your arousal having built up just by making him feel good. You press your thighs together, alleviating the throbbing pressure in your pussy.

You continue to move with purpose, lowering your hands to knead his oily thighs as you take his entire length in your mouth, the tip of cock hitting the back of your throat with each bob of your head. You suck your cheeks in, running your tongue along a prominent vein with each stroke.

His ragged breaths and the soft squelch of your saliva and mouth on his cock fill the room, and suddenly, Din is pawing at you. The need for more becomes undeniable, and Din, unable to restrain himself any longer, pulls you up with a sense of urgency.

"Wanna- come in you—" he gasps, pulling at your neck.

You press your thighs tighter together at his admission, moaning on his cock.

"Kriff, cyar'ika, j- just, please," he grunts, and you lift your head off his cock, saliva dripping down your chin.

When you finally look up at him, his eyes are blown wide with need, and he's fully sitting up now. You feel the sudden shift as he drags you onto his lap, his still erect cock pressing into your stomach. You push up onto your knees as Din's hand desperately claws at the hem of your pants, yanking both your pants and panties off at the same time as he mouths the tops of your still covered breasts. Once your bottoms are off, he unclasps your bra expertly, letting it fall to the side.

Once you're bare in front of him, he laps his tongue over your breast, sucking at your nipple as his other hand squeezes and massages your other. The sensation send an electric jolt through your body, and a soft moan escapes your lips. Din's touch is both possessive and tender, his free hand coming to knead the flesh of your ass.

In one solid motion, Din is lifting you up high by your hips, positioning you over his cock. Utterly desperate and aching for your cunt around his cock, he slams your hips down, splitting you open on his cock inside your dripping cunt. Your hands fly up to his shoulders, a warbled scream and moan slipping from the both of you as he plunges deep inside of you, filling you up perfectly. You give yourself a moment to breath, steadying your breath. When he rolls his hips once, you whimper.

"Maker, y- you feel so good," you moan, biting your bottom lip in pleasure.

You squeeze his cock tightly, back arching as you feel every ridge of his cock inside you. His hands squeeze your hips tightly as your hands run down to his chest, and you start placing open mouthed, messy kisses on his jawline and neck. He lets you adjust around him, giving you some time to feel his cock molded perfectly inside you.

"Take me so good...s- so kriffing p- perfect, my beautiful riduur," he growls, fondling your breasts as you sit on his cock. Your thighs press against his as you try to clench your thighs at his words, darting your tongue out to give his skin kitten licks.

Ever so slowly, you start to roll your hips against his, moaning at the sensation. Din hisses, forehead falling on your sternum, his hot breath fanning against your breasts.

"Riduur," he groans again, darting his tongue out over the tops of your breasts again. "Ride me."

Your hands find their way into his dark curls, tugging at them lightly as you start to lift yourself up his cock. The drag of your pussy against Din's cock makes him shudder in pure ecstasy, moving his head to rest in the crook of your neck.

"You- you're the best thing that's e- ever happened to me," you whisper in his ear, then you sink all the way back down on his cock.

He moans, sucking bruises onto the junction between your shoulder and neck. Din's face is flushed from your words and the way you feel on top of him. You lift yourself up a few inches and drop back down, relishing in the way he feels underneath you.

"Never thought I'd find s- someone like you, cyare," he admits in his gravelly voice, tightening his grip on you. "Someone I- I could c- come back to."

"You're m- my home, Din," you reply, your voice a breathy whisper.

You start to set a steady pace, rocking and grinding on his cock. Din grunts at the sudden change in pace, helping you up and off his cock as his broad hands help lift you up and down by your hips. With each bounce, his cock stretches you out deliciously, dragging along your slick walls with ease.

You move your hand down to your catch your clit, circling the bud slowly, building up the pressure bubbling in your core. Your back arches as you start to tease yourself, pussy clenching harder around his cock. Din's head is thrown back in pleasure, hands firmly on your hips as you keep bouncing, reveling in the way you squeeze slightly tighter around him.

Your walls start to flutter around him at the stimulation of your clit, picking up the pace as you chase your orgasm. You lock eyes with his, the rhythm of your hips against his causing him to paw at every square inch of your body.

With your free hand, you guide his strong jaw towards your face, capturing his lips in a searing, passionate kiss. You don't stop moving on top of his cock as you slip your tongue into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on his bottom lip with each kiss. His lips are warm and demanding against yours, responding with a fervor that has you leaning back.

The taste of Din is intoxicating, yet something you can never quite put your finger on. His low growls mix with your soft moans, your hands threading in his curls.

Din breaks the kiss, but rests his forehead on yours. His pants mingle with yours, warm breath tickling your nose.

"Can't believe I'm so lucky," Din grits, and without hesitation, he deftly maneuvers you until you're lying on your back.

You admire the way his chest heaves with a controlled intensity as he hovers over you, his cock still fully sheathed inside you to the hilt. Moving his hands, he presses your legs up against your chest, angling them in such a way to allow for a deeper penetration. The newfound angle sends waves of pleasure coursing through each of you, each movement building up the pressure in your lower muscles.

"Maker, Din," is all you can say as his cock reaches deeper inside you. You're utterly engrossed in everything about him; how perfectly he fucks you, how he protects you, how he always puts others before himself, how he never backs down from a challenge.

You watch as his mouth drops open when he starts to move again, pounding into you with a slow, measured pace. Every motion has your hot, soaking walls sucking him in greedily.

"Fuck me so perfectly, you're perfect," you murmur as Din pulls your legs up onto his hips, effectively spreading you wide open. His whole chest presses flush against yours, kissing your words away when he leans in.

Your hands fly down to grip his forearms that cage you under his body, nails pressing into his skin as he fucks you slowly. Each thrust is met with a soft whimper into Din's mouth as he takes his time, relishing the way your chest feels against his own. The measured pace of his movements builds a heavy tension in your core, drawing out the pleasure and anticipation with each deliberate stroke.

Din's hand finds your clit again, pressing his thick digits against your swollen bud. The added pressure sends electric pulses through your body, and your back arches involuntarily as the pleasure intensifies. Your pussy clenches around his cock, drawing a throaty groan from Din, who revels in the tight embrace of your walls.

"So strong, s- so good," you gasp, your words punctuated by your unrestrained sounds of pleasure.

"S' perfect, cyare," he murmurs against your lips breathlessly, pressing a kiss on your lips once again. He nips and bites at your bottom lip relentlessly. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face closer to you as you mewl into his mouth. Your fingers find their way back into his soft hair, scratching your fingernails on the base of his scalp.

With each enthusiastic response from you, he quickens his pace, the unforgiving rhythm pushing you both closer to the edge.

The feeling of his cock moving inside you faster and harder elicits a cascade of moans and whimpers from your lips, your clit being stimulated nearly to the point of your impending release. He's fucking you hard into the mattress, unrelenting in the way he wants to feel every part of you.

Din, ever the attentive man, knows you're about to cum just from the way your face contorts, from the way your body reacts to the slightest touch.

You can also feel him nearing the edge, the tension in his body reaching its peak with each stroke. His skin is warm and still slick with the lavender-scented oil, intoxicating your senses and making your mind go blank.

"Please, come in me," you beg, wrapping your legs around Din's waist to pull him closer to you. "Please, please, Din."

His skin glides against yours, your hands travel across the expanse of his back, feeling the flex of his muscles as he moves with unrestrained strength.

Din's eyebrows are pinched in pleasure, mouth parted open as he pants. His fingers find the sweet spot of your clit, causing you to nearly scream in pleasure.

"That's it," Din encourages, coaxing your orgasm out of you as he maintains the pressure around your sweet spot.

Before you know it, you're cumming around Din's cock. The first contraction of your cunt around his cock has Din shuddering from his own orgasm, the feelings of your muscles spasming around him pushing him over the edge. His breathing is erratic, hot against your skin.

You writhe underneath Din, whimpering his name as you ride out your orgasm. Din pulls you in for a messy kiss as he cums inside of you, cupping your jaw with one hand as he guides your lips to his in a searing kiss.

Settling down from his orgasm, Din falls on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Your hands run up and down his back, soothing him with the light scratching of your nails against his skin.

The gentle scratching of your nails against Din's back seems to lull him into a state of relaxation, his body going lax on top of yours. His breath and mustache tickles the sensitive flesh of your neck.

Both of you are still panting, trying to catch your breaths from your shared climax. Din's weight atop of you feels grounding, a comforting, welcoming presence that reminds you once again that he is yours.

"Feel better?" you inquire softly, your hands coming to rest around his neck.

Din lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours with a tenderness he reserves only for you.

Din mumbles in agreement, his body completely pliant in your hands. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, the remnants of his panting gradually subsiding.

"Thank you," he murmurs, eyes studying your face intently. "Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum."

Your fingers move from his neck to gently trace lines over Din's flushed cheeks, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"I love you."

Din's eyes soften even more. His hands, calloused and strong, come up to gently cradle your face. Thumbs brush over your cheeks in a tender caress, as if he's committing the feeling to memory.

He pulls you in for another kiss, a sweet, tender meeting of your lips in the aftermath of your care for him.

A thank you, if you will.

As Din's lips part from yours, he rests his forehead against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

You snuggle close to him, the scent of lavender surrounding you both. In the quiet aftermath, the only sound that remains is the beating of your hearts.

. . .

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) Masterlist

[backtothefanfiction]

Brown Eyes | A Mandalorian Imagine

Summary- Turns out, there’s so much more at stake than just life or death if you get injured

Length- short

Warnings- mostly fluff, mentions of injury

A/N- this just popped into my head so I of course had to write it out for you guys before I can sleep.

You’ve been lucky. Real lucky. All this time spent travelling with him and the kid and you haven’t gotten injured once. Which is even more lucky when you think about what your travelling companion does for a living. Or at least that’s what you think to yourself as you now sit hold up in the hull of the ship, your hand holding tightly to the blaster wound at your side.

It was your own fault really. He had told you multiple times to not do wander off or let the kid roam around outside the ship when he was on missions like this- but did you listen… No of course not. It’s not like anything had happened the last 15 times you had let him stretch his legs and get some fresh air and Din had been none the wiser.

He had also told you before that people were looking for him and the kid, which was another reason to lie low, but you didn’t think the situation was a shoot on sight kind of deal. You had both just been enjoying the meadow Din had landed in and the nearby tree line when the first shot had burned its way through the side of a tree. Then came another- and another. You felt one of the blasts burn across your side, but you couldn’t stop, couldn’t acknowledge it. You just had to get out of there.

You had tried to shoot back, scooping the kid up in your arms and running for your life back to the razor crest. The moment you were through the doors you had closed the hatch and placed the kid safely in his cradle, closing the top for extra protection as blaster fire began to hit the side of the ship.

You had frantically began to press buttons to get it up in the air and away from them. As you just about cleared the tree line, the crest half protesting from your hasty take off, another beep, the beep of the coms, sent a new wave of adrenaline through your body.

“What’s happening? Why have-“

You don’t let him finish asking his questions. “They found us. They found the kid.” You quickly informed him. Although you were trying to block it out, you knew from the strained way you were talking he’d know you’d been hurt.

“Is he safe? Is the kid safe? Are you both safe?” He quickly asked through the com link.

“Yes.” You said quickly back, if not a bit breathily, as you fought to steady the ship in the air and move it away from the meadow and the wooded area, instead heading towards a mountain ridge, hoping it would provide some cover.

“I’m sending co-ordinates,” he said- and you could hear the beeping of him typing in the location to send to the crest through the com, “meet me there.”

“Okay.” You said, gritting your teeth against the pain in your side.

The adrenaline coursing through your body had been just enough to see you to the rendezvous point, a large cavern on the far side of the mountains. You just had enough focus to land the crest inside, shutting the engines back down, before climbing back down into the hull to check on the baby. When you opened the cradle, you weren’t surprised at all to find him sleeping in it, the stress of the situation exhausting him. Knowing he was safe though filled you with relief.

Finally safe, knowing Din was on his way, allowed you to finally relax. The only problem was, without the adrenaline coursing through you, you were becoming more and more aware of the pain in your side. You lifted your hand to cradle it protectively as you hobbled to a bench along the outer wall and sat yourself down.

You sneered as you took it in, all blood and charred skin. It made you light headed. And that’s where you were now, eyes closed, head tilted back, resting against the wall. Deep breathing your way through the pain trying to think of anything else to pass the time while you waited for Din to return. He’d know how to deal with this.

You must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew you were being jostled awake, a frantic voice calling your name between curses. It felt like a fight to open your eyes. They were so dry and heavy.

“Come on baby, I need you to wake up. Stay with me now.”

You felt him prod at your side and you let out a small groan as your head lulled heavily to one side. You just wanted to go back to sleep. It didn’t hurt when you were asleep.

“Fuck.” He groaned, his voice ragged and desperate.

As you continued to fight to get your eyes open, your body seemingly working completely separately to your brain right now, you heard his heavy feet begin to charge around the small space searching for what- you did not know with your eyes closed.

You felt him return to you, his hand resting on your thigh and you assumed he was resting on his knees before you. Knowing this was something you definitely had to see to believe, you finally fought to open your eyes. But it was difficult, they kept trying to close again, your head rolling from side to side as you fought to stay conscious, fought to look at him on his knees before you.

You knew his fingers were fumbling with something and you sneered as his fingers jabbed at the wound again.

“Uuuhhh owwwww.” You complained.

“Fuck.” He said again. “I can’t fucking see shit.” He complained.

Your eyes grew heavy again and you more sensed him lean away from you than saw him, but the sudden hiss of compressed air coming from his helmet had them seemingly fly open and you watched him lift the helmet from his head.

“Din-“ you groaned, but he didn’t respond. You watched him as he reached again for the med pack, getting out a pair of scissors and cutting away at the fabric of your top around the wound. He then grabbed a bottle of clear liquid, wetting a pad with it, which he then wiped carefully around the wound. Your eyes squeezed tight and you hissed in pain.

“Hold still now baby, hold still, I’m nearly done.” He says. Your only thought though is when did he start calling you baby?

There’s a reprieve as his hands move away again and your breathing starts to come back into your control. There’s a rustling sound of a packet and you open your eyes again to watch through blurry eyes as he removed a bacta patch from its packaging. You close your eyes and rest your head back against the wall again as he carefully lines it up, before sticking it down over the top of the wound.

You must have fallen asleep again, because when you wake next, you’re lying down on a cot with bandages wrapped around your middle. As you shift, the blanket placed over you shifts, exposing your skin to the cold air. You surmise you are back in hyperspace.

You pull yourself from the bed groggily. Your side still feels tender but it’s nowhere near as bad as it was, the bacta patch clearly doing its job. You slowly begin to follow the sounds of the kid’s babbling up to the cockpit where he is sat resting on Din’s knee. He quickly goes quiet when he sees you.

Din turns himself in his chair to check what he already knows. He’s relieved to see how much better you’re looking already. There’s more colour to you skin and the fact you are moving around speaks volumes to your alertness and body’s responsiveness.

But when you lock eyes on him your brain can only think of one thing. “You took it off.” You say, your eyes blinking at the vague memory as you take in his once again helmeted form in front of you.

“Yes.” He says as if it is merely just a matter of fact.

“You have brown eyes.”

“Yes.” He says again bluntly, clearly not wanting to give these facts more attention than they need.

You frown. “You called me baby.”

He’s silent then. There’s a long pause between you both as he turns himself away from you. “You scared me.” He says as firmly as he can. “Don’t do that again.” He says more strongly, but it just makes you smile.

For the first time since you boarded his ship, it’s clear to you he is able to care for someone other than the kid. “I won’t tell any one.” You reassure him.

He’s quiet for a moment- and you worry he’s not going to say anything at all- when he finally says, “Good.”

A few seconds later you’re dropping out of hyperspace and it’s like the whole ordeal never happened in the first place.

[dameronology]

how about what would happen if the star wars boys made you cry 👀

ok i kinda did this in the scenario that you're arguing and they make you cry

characters: din, poe, finn, han, luke & obi-wan

din djarin

he is HORRIFIED the minute tears spring from your eyes

maybe you're fighting, maybe he got stressed and said something in the heat of moment, whatever it is, he's immediately forgotten about what he was mad about and he's by your side, floods of apologies coming from his mouth and gloved hands taking yours

he just kinda pulls you into his chest and holds you for a moment and my GOD he wants the world to swallow him up because he loves you more than anything in the world and he normally hates whoever makes you cry but right now it's him

truth is, you know din and you know that he would never do anything to intentionally hurt you so as far as apologies go, it's one you accept pretty quickly

he's gonna apologise for like a week after that

even if it becomes annoying

poe dameron

poe just sort of freezes and has this "oh fuck" look on his face

"oh god, don't cry. please don't cry. did i make you cry? oh my god. i made you cry."

and then he probably starts crying too

because he always wants to cry when you cry but the fact that he's the one responsible for it? woo boy

he swallows it down though and doesn't let you see because he doesn't want to seem like he's taking away from what he's done

his immediate reaction is to want to hug you, but he waits for a moment to see if you'll let him because he doesn't know if you're gonna swing at him tbh

if you let him, he holds you fucking tight. he doesn't apologise then and there, though, not until things have calmed down - normally a few moments later - that he says sorry and you know it's from the bottom of his heart

he goes out his way over the next few days to make it up to you; flowers, dinner, a romantic trip to a distant planet, but above all, he makes an active effort to never let it happen again

and that's what matters most

finn

honestly finn looks like a kicked puppy

because he tries so hard to never argue with you or get mad EXACTLY FOR THIS REASON and he has failed in his attempts and oh lord he wants to die

he doesn't jump immediately to apologising, mostly because he wants you to say what you need to say and he doesn't want to talk over you

and he listens!! he wants to know what he did and what he said so that it never happens again

then he apologises, and it's always straight to the point but still eloquent and meaningful

finn isn't gonna be the kinda guy who apologises for days (oh, din) or goes out his way to shower you in sorry gifts (ah, poe) because mostly he just wants to move on from it and get back to a good place with you but it's like...not in a way that he forgets about it??

it's more of a thing that he hates things being off with you. like it literally kills him inside. so he encourages you to both move forward and get back to the good stuff.

but he also makes it clear that he has learnt from it

han solo

han literally doesn't know what to do. he can barely handle people crying at the best of times but when a) it's you and b) you're crying because of him?

his immediate reaction is to run, because it's han and he always wants to peg it away from every single issue but his chest hurts at the idea and it hurts even more when he knows he's the bastard that made you cry

he just goes silent and is kinda 🧍‍♂️for a second because his brain is computing but then he realises that he does know what to do when you cry and that's attack the thing that upset you

then he realises that he can't do that and goes "well i can't fucking blast myself, so i don't really know what to do right now" and it's stupid and dumb and oh my god han read the fucking room but at least it breaks the ice a little bit and you smile

because, despite everything and despite han being...well, han, you know he's trying his best and the fact he's even still in front of you is actually something of a miracle

that's your cue to rip into him, by the way, because even if you're crying it is canon that the only way to get han solo to listen to you is to tear him a new one (or three) so he will stand there and take the bollocking

after that, he apologises. han isn't good with words so it's a little bit spacey and awkward but the intent is there

but he also makes it abundantly clear that he never means to hurt you and you know, from the bottom of his heart, that he means it

luke skywalker

luke literally stops in his tracks and he's holding you immediately and going "i didn't mean that, i really didn't mean that, please don't hate me"

literally his entire facade his gone - the stubbornness, whatever he's arguing about - just disappears and he realises immediately that none of it is worth making you cry

so the man is literally holding you before your tears even start and he's already apologising over and over

he does want to listen to you though and hear what you have to say, so he's all ears

tbh, it's hard to stay angry at luke for long because you know he's completely pure intentioned and good hearted but you can absolutely opt to give him the silent treatment or take space for as long as you need and he will let you do it

after that, he buys you flowers and will make it up to you in every way he knows how

obi-wan kenobi

out of everyone on the list, obi-wan is the one who is the most shooketh to his core when he realises that he's made you cry

because he's so chivalrous and loving and might as well live to serve you so the idea that he's hurt you is quite possibly his greatest fear come true

his immediate reaction is to give you space. he'll apologise first and let you know that he's ready to talk whenever you are, simply because he doesn't want to overstep or push you to make up until you're ready

but as soon as you are, he's all ears and listening to everything you have to say

again - and i feel like i'm saying this for every character here lol - you know that he'd never hurt you intentionally and although that's the main, the proof is in the pudding when he actively listens to you and makes an effort to avoid it happening again

[kaleidescope-writes]

"So that's where you are..."

Din Djarin x reader

18+, Minors DNI

Tags: Established relationship, swearing, protective!Din, No use of Y/N, no mention of the show's plot, mention of violence, Din's sexy ass voice, year long wait

Pretty sure I missed something, if I did lemme know!

Should I make a part 2?

You knew this was a bad idea. You knew this wasn't going to end well. But you were too far in to stop now. You'd been traveling with the infamous Mandalorian for months, looking for jobs and trying to keep the little green monster safe. It's been rough for the three of you, especially since many of the available jobs would compromise the three of you and put Grogu in inescapable harm. "There are more jobs out there, safer jobs." Din would say. But none of them would pay half as much as those he deemed "too risky." Not only that, they were scarce throughout the Galaxy. Every planet you landed on only had a few jobs Din was willing to take.

It was funny to you. Before Grogu came along, the last thing on his mind when taking a job was whether it was too dangerous. You'd often have to scold him for caring so little about his own safety, claiming he had no sense of self-preservation. Grogu changed that. Grogu was his wake-up call. Now he cares more about the safety of all three of you than how many credits the job offered. You were struggling to buy provisions and keep the Razor Crest in good shape. Peli was a big help, giving you a discounted price on repairs, but it still wasn't enough sometimes. Sometimes you had to scrape the bottom of the barrel just to have enough rations to make it to the next job. Despite wanting to stay optimistic, you knew you couldn't keep this up, it wasn't practical. You had a few conversations with Din about your concerns, but he kept reassuring you that it was fine. "Yours and Grogu's safety is what matters the most. We'll find other jobs, but I can't let anything happen to either of you." But that wasn't enough to make your worries dissipate. You still didn't have enough credits to buy the supplies you desperately needed.

That's what brought you here. You told Din that you were going into the next town over to try to find cheaper supplies for your travels while he took the next job. You hated having to lie to him, but it was getting harder to get by. The last time you visited Peli, you bargained asked for a favor. You asked her to send one of the droid-piloted ships in her possession to the next planet you were headed to, in exchange for a portion of the credits you'd get. You then had it take you to a different planet in the solar system, one you knew you could find one of the jobs Din refused to take. So here you were, waiting in an isolated corner of one of the grime-filled, crowded bars that bounty hunters frequented. You were looking for the zabrak that had offered Din the job a few days prior. He'd said that it was about killing a mercenary that had double crossed him a few months back. They weren't exactly well-known, but they'd made enough of a name for themselves in the underground for other hunters to stay away. Din said he could've taken care of it, but the only thing that stopped his was the very thing you were tired of hearing about. You knew you could handle it. Din had trained you well enough to take a job like this yourself, but he never really gave you the chance to prove it. You didn't need to. He would always be there to make sure you didn't. But now you had to.

A chirping noise coming from your belt pulled you out of your thoughts. Pulling out your holoprojector, you started to feel uneasy. You'd been gone for hours, he definitely noticed by now. As reluctant as you were, you knew that if you didn't respond, he would be absolutely mad with worry. Despite trying to get the job done as secretively as possible, you knew that worrying him would make it harder for him to understand why you decided to ignore his wishes for you to stay safe and stay near him. You knew you had to answer. The moment the hologram took the form of his helmet, the pressure in your stomach became harder to ignore. "Where are you?" His deep, modulated voice asked. You debated continuing the lie you previously used to leave his side, but the way he tilted his head towards you served as a warning against it. "I came looking for another job," you replied bluntly, "We need more than a few credits to get by this time." A deep exhale sounded through the hologram, he was upset. "You weren't in the next town over, I looked for you in every shit hole bar I could find. Where are you?" he asked more sternly He knew you'd gone farther than that, there was no doubt in his mind. That didn't deter you from accomplishing your original purpose here. You needed the supplies. That was something even he couldn't deny anymore. "Looking for another job," you repeated, knowing he wasn't going to stop asking, "I'll go back when I'm done, I just need you to be patient."

"Cyar'ika, tell me where you are. I'll pick you up and we can find a job together," Din tried, his voice easing up a bit as he spoke. Your stomach churned more, preparing another avoidant response. "Ah, there you are!" A very distinct familiar voice called over the noise of the crowd of drunkards, "You changed your mind then? You'll take the job?" Approaching your secluded corner of the bar, the zabrak you were looking for announced his presence out enough to be heard by your concerned lover. You felt your heart drop to your knees, knowing damn well Din would recognize the shrill, raspy voice of the man that had previously offered him the job. You turned your attention back to the holoprojector in your hand, attempting to end the projection before he'd fully realize where you were. But you weren't fast enough, as a deep hum resounded from his image followed by a sentence that would upturn your anxiety.

"So that's where you are."

*********************************************

A/N: Heyo! I know it's been almost a year since I posted the preview, sorry for the delay. Also, I meant to make this longer, but I figured if anyone wants to read more I can make a part 2. Love you guys, stay safe, stay proud, stay strong! 💖

Also, if my irl friends find this, not you fucking didn't 🫵😠

[jake-g-lockley]

Hi, can I have prompt 1 with Din Djarin?

Hypnos (The Mandalorian x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be Tagged?

Prompt: Accidentally falling asleep in each other's arms

A/N: Hi there! Thanks for the ask, I literally love Din so so much, he’s baby and this prompt suits him. Oh to wake up in this mans ARMS UGHHHH

Word Count: 485 words

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You tried hard to focus on the flame before you but your eyes were swimming with sleep. The Mandalorian was stretched out beside you, leaning back against his bag his helmet tilted up to the night sky. Grogu slept soundly in your arms, snuggled against your chest and your head kept nodding forward, pushing your nose into his big green head.

It had been a long day of running and you were tired, so tired. But you will yourself to keep awake, worried that someone would come and snatch the child straight out of your arms while you slept. Oblivious to you, Din was watching you as your arms tightened around the sleeping child, the unknown feelings of love washing over his heart like the waves of Kamino.

He knew you were keeping awake for the child and his mind broke slightly as you kissed the top of Grogu’s head murmuring “Its ok I’m here.” whenever the little green thing would mumble in its sleep. He was tired too but he wanted to keep you safe, stopping himself many times from pretty much ordering you to close your eyes and relax. The flame before you was hypnotising and you just wanted to let it embrace you as you rocked yourself and Grogu into a soft trance.

“You could just sleep, you know?” The modulated voice snapped you out of your trance and you turned to see the Mandalorian looking at you, the reflection of the flames dancing softly on his shiny beskar armour, bathing him in a glow.

The softness in his voice soothed you and you relaxed, nodding and settling Grogu down before curling up beside him. Sleep took over you instantly and your dreams were pleasant and happy. You dreamt of the Mandalorian, watching as he pulled your sleeping body against him, slotting Grogu between the both of you and wrapping his arms around you.

You woke up in the early hours of the morning to a whoosh of cold air, finding your cheek pressed against a cold metal. You blinked and tried to sit up but were met with resistance. You found yourself staring down at a beskar breastplate and suddenly you realised that your dream had just become a reality. The Mandalorian was snoring softly and his helmet pressed against the top of your head as his arms tightened his grip around you.

He smelled of blaster fire and after a while of breathing him in, you realised that his gloved thumb had been rubbing soothing circles on your biceps and you felt your face flame up at the sweet gesture. It pulled you back to sleep and you relished in his body warmth, nuzzling your nose against the space between his helmet and shoulder plate, where his soft balaclava covered his skin, imagining how sweet life could continue being if you were to wake up like this every single morning. 

Reblogs are appreciated ~~~

[pagesfromthevoid]

Cowboy Like Me | d.d.

Din Djarin x princess!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: none

Author’s Note: Ahahahah fuck here we go again. Here’s to @bookxish and @ablondieproduction for helping me get this started and consequently probably ruining my life in the process :^)

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

The Princess

Karga slid a single puck across the table before he leaned back in the booth. “Client wants the quarry back alive.”

The Mandalorian didn’t reach for the puck. “Unless you have more, I’m not interested.”

“You will be when you hear how much they’re willing to pay,” Karga countered, a sly grin on his face. “Thirty thousand, with an extra five if you bring the quarry back before the end of the month.”

It was moments like this that the helmet was an excellent asset. The hunter’s brows had shot up in surprise, disbelief surely written in his features as he considered just how much that was —more than enough for fuel, for food and supplies. He couldn’t believe that one quarry was worth that much.

But the helmet hid the surprise just fine.

He took the puck, about to switch the hologram up but Karga stopped him.

“I’m gonna recommend you keep the details to yourself, Mando,” he warned, and for once, Mando considered listening. “She’s not missing because she’s a helpless damsel who got taken by an enemy. She’s missing because she wants to be missing. She’s been gone several days already. No one seems to be able to find her.”

Mando turned the hologram on, leaning back as the image of a young woman in Senate regalia faltered before him. The maroon color of her gown was accented by the gold chains that hung from her hands and ears —but what caught his attention were her eyes. He couldn’t tell the color; it didn’t matter. Her eyes were wide, cast to the side as if she was looking at something that surprised her. The rest of her face showed her emotions well, even if her body language was stiff. She was beautiful, in a frustrating way. A way that suggested she knew but didn’t want others to notice.

Another reason to appreciate the helmet —he noticed things that people didn’t want noticed. But they never knew.

He recognized the man behind her as the senator of Senex. Last Mando had heard, the senator had died. They had yet to find a replacement.

“Any idea why she doesn’t want to be found?” He asked, switching off the hologram and pocketing the puck. The whole thing felt ridiculous; searching for a missing princess like in a children’s story. But money was money.

Karga shook his head. “Rumors; whispers. But nothing I can confirm.”

“Helpful.”

“You want it or not?”

“I took the puck, didn’t I?”

Karga hummed, leaning back. “Good luck, Mando. I hear she’s a fighter.”

Behind his visor, Mando rolled his eyes.

Everyone was a fighter until they met the Mandalorian.

*****

She left him at the altar.

Oh, Maker. She left her fiancé at the altar.

No, no. She didn’t even make it to the altar. She didn’t even make it to the wedding.

What was she thinking? Was she thinking? Of course she was; she had to have been thinking because why else would she have left? Anyone in their right mind would have left too —no one truly wanted to marry someone old enough to be their grandfather. Not without a valid reason.

And her reason was far from valid.

Her reason wasn’t even hers. It was her mother’s.

But Maker —she left —what? Two? Three days ago? — without anything but the dress she wore, an empty backpack, and the credits she had been putting aside for years. No food, or water. No resources. Surely not a change of clothes, which she had to buy immediately. She had stuck out like a Wookiee among Ewoks. After several days of dancing around going home or staying missing, she finally decided she couldn’t go back. Not any time soon.

So, there she sat in a cantina, backpack tucked close to her side. The clothes she wore were far from royal. Instead of the decadent colors of gems, she wore a muted sort of brown tunic, with a scarf that covered her head and shoulders like a hood. She blended in well with the civilians around her, which was what she wanted.

Until she caught a glimpse of a Mandalorian across the room.

Looking at a hologram of her.

She nearly choked on her drink.

Maker help her —they’d put a bounty on her. And a Mandalorian was clearly in the middle of picking it up. If she left now, it would draw his attention. So she waited him out; kept her eyes down, breathing steady. If he left first, she would be fine.

*****

Back on the ship, Din sets the puck on the control panel and turns it back on. The kid sits in his crib, playing with the knob to shifter, but Din can’t bring himself to take it from him. It’s the only thing keeping the kid from crying, and he needs to focus on getting the coordinates for her last location.

The kid looks up at the hologram though, cooing at the image as he makes grabby hands for it.

“No,” Din commands, his voice soft but stern behind the modulator. Then he sighs with exasperation: her last known location was there, on Nevarro. He should have known better.

Sometimes he wondered if Karga liked omitting details. Just to be inconvenient.

The kid babbles but goes back to his ball as Din eyes the image of the young woman in the hologram. He catches every detail —the curve of her cheekbones, the angle of her nose, the fullness of her lips. Back to the length of her hair, where it’s pulled back to be out of her face but stray curls seem to escape.

But he can’t pinpoint her eyes. The color doesn’t capture in the hologram —not well at least. He’s good with details, but he can’t make this one out and it bothers him.

The kid reaches out again, babbling happily as he does so. Din gently pushes his hands away before standing up.

“Let’s go find a princess, kid.”

———

Taglist: OPEN

[joelsbloodyhands]

MANDALORIAN IMAGINE

Din gets jealous when you cuddle an ewok

WARNINGS: None just Din being a jealous tin-man 😌 however if you don’t like cuddling, this is not the fic for you.

A/N: Let’s be honest, how can you not want to cuddle an Ewok? Also, there’s no way in hell Din would ACTUALLY just let you pull him up to a treehouse. That man would have you thrown over his shoulder so quick- (I need to stop before I re-write this fic) 😫 also I should mention Din probably knows what ewoks are but for the sake of this fic and my sanity, let’s all pretend he has no clue (since it wouldn’t be a surprise anyway considering how he barely understands what a Jedi is) 🤭

READER does not have a specified gender, they/them pronouns used. Reader is in an established romantic relationship with Din. Reader has parent relationship with Grogu (no gendered title used). Reader does not have a visible disability.

“I can’t fathom why you’re terrified of Porgs and not of Ewoks,” Din sighs as you laugh excitedly at the fluffy creatures bringing you random stormtrooper helmets that look like they’ve seen better days. “That was one time!” You huff, eyebrows narrowing at him as you stick a tongue out towards him. He chuckles as he watches you murmur thank you’s to the waddling balls of fur. “Yet it seems to happen every time we encounter them,” he mumbles amusingly causing you to shush him.

You had landed on Endor, finding refuge in the lush forests, surprisingly cool on this sunny planet. It hadn’t meant to happen. Encountering pirates on the way to Batuu, the ship was damaged and thus you landed safely onto the green planet unscathed. It had meant to be a quick stop until you had alerted Din to the sighting of something “small, round and fluffy” lurking around the ramp.

Din had been quick to try to deter you, his hand on his blaster as you approached the small bundle of fur, raising a sharp spear your way until you offered it the same blue cookies Din often tried to persuade you not to buy Grogu every time you went to a market. Though much to his surprise, the small creature with large eyes, snatched the snack and gobbled it right up quite happily mumbling some unintelligible language Din couldn’t make sense of and nor could you for that matter, still taking its offering hand and letting it pull you into the forest with Din at your heels and a laughing Grogu in his satchel.

Din had protested the short journey to a cluster of high tree houses, spiralling up into the great trees. The little creature had beckoned you up a wooden set of stairs. Din had taken your wrist, looking up at you from the bottom of the steps and could you see his face, you knew he’d be pouting unhappily.

“Please, mesh’la. Come back to the ship. We don’t know these creatures.”

You had understood his concern of course but part of you yearned for a detour. An adventure. You had both been travelling to and from planets, often with Din disappearing for days on end to collect bounties for credits while you babied Grogu and took care of the ship in his absence. Part of you felt too cooped up in the ship, almost selfishly thanking the maker for causing it to go to disarray and landing you somewhere new.

The small creature babbled up to you as Din’s fingers travelled to yours, intertwining your fingers and gently tugging. You looked back to him, “it’s getting dark, Din. We should spent the night at least.”

He sighed as he watched you turn back and with great difficulty tried to communicate to this brown fluff ball if they could give you some place to rest. Din meanwhile looked down at your son, his big eyes blinking up at his buir with intrigue towards his parents new friend. Din shrugged at him in response as the small boys eyes found the back of your head again cooeing.

The bug-eyed creature had brought the both of you to an empty treehouse, one a lot smaller than the others surrounding the area above. It chattered away in a language neither of you understood but it seemed to quickly learn that it was better to show you with gestures than with words. You had thanked the critter by giving it the rest of the cookies from your bag and offered up a parcel of bantha meat to cook that Din had realised you must have snatched from the pantry on the way off the ship. He smiles underneath his helmet, you were always prepared to take care of everyone.

That’s what he loved most about you.

“What do you think, Din?” You had asked, breaking through his thoughts as he lifted his head to watch you take off your jacket. The small creature had taken the parcel quite happily, waddling excitedly with it out of the house.

“Just one night, cya’rika,” he gently asserted, watching you pout but nod understandably.

“Okay but you have to admit this is pretty neat,” you open your arms twirling on one spot, your eyes looking up towards the top of the house.

A staircase ran around the outside walls, circling to what appeared to be an open topped roof with a balcony. A small table sat in the centre of the room, carved intricately out of wood with what appeared to be a couple of woven moss pillows on either side. Some woven sleeping mats and fur blankets folded neatly in the corner. A fire lantern hung from the staircase and the glow of a fire from outside the hut cast light through the doorway.

Din had to hand it to the creatures, they were rather skilled considering how dopey they looked.

He turned his attention back to you, watching you now pull out two mats and lay them side by side before folding up blankets and placing them down as pillows, setting up your sleeping space. Grogu babbled up at Din who mindlessly lifted his son out of his satchel, watching him scurry off to you, a small hand taking hold of your sleeve as he watched you get everything prepared.

Din wandered off towards the table, removing his weaponry and gear. As he removed some of his armor; opting to keep his chest piece on (just in case), you stood contentedly brushing off your thighs as you overlooked your sleeping arrangements with the small child now gripping your trouser cuff, big brown eyes following your movements. “There,” you clasped your hands together, looking at your son with delight who cooed almost understandably at your cheeriness. “Are you hungry, ad’ika?” The boy cried out happily at the mention of food while Din tried to control his exceeding heart rate that fluttered whenever you spoke in his native language.

It wasn’t your first language.

You had picked up the odd phrase here and there, asking Din to teach you the proper pronunciation. He did so with ease, not really thinking you would adapt or desire to even use it. Safe to say, he was surprised the first time you used the word ad’ika to describe Grogu when singing him to sleep one night. Then his legs nearly gave out under him, the first time he heard your sweet voice call him riduur.

He hadn’t taught you that one.

So the question was; who did teach you?

“Bo told me it means partner,” you had admitted, nervously rocking on your heels at his stuttering reaction. “Did I say it wrong?” You blushed, your lips trembling and eyes watering, worried you may have offended him. Din stepped towards you before stopping himself. If he got any closer, he didn’t know what he’d do but he knew for sure, he wouldn’t want to stop once he started.

“No, cya’rika. Your pronunciation was perfect but-“

“But?” You had interjected, your eyes now on your feet. Din could only recognise the expression as though you were waiting for rejection and that was something Din was absolutely NOT going to do.

“Cya’rika?” You lifted your gaze to his visor, “Riduur means a lot more than partner. Bo told you that, right?”

You frowned in confusion and your body shook anxiously as you stumbled to explain, “Well, she corrected me because I called you my boyfriend and she said the proper word for us- I mean, for you and what you mean to me…that word would be riduur.”

Din fell silent.

Bo you fiend, he mentally tsked.

“It doesn’t mean boyfriend, mesh’la,” Din found himself saying, thinking it would probably be best to rip the bandage off and let you know now to help you realise that you would want to stop using it.

“Oh?” You narrowed your eyes in surprise and he could see the cogs working your brain about why your friend would say that to you.

“Um, it means- well, riduur is- it’s, you’re calling me your husband.”

Your eyes widened and Din had thought he knew how red your face could get but right now your cheeks were as bright as the lava fields of Mustafar.

“It means- I…I called you my husband?” You clarified, your heart pounding erratically.

Din walked to you then silently and your eyes followed his visor until he was stood so close, your head tilted back to meet his gaze. He ran his eyes over your features, noticing that you seemed almost afraid. Not of what he would do. He knew that but afraid that you had upset him.

“You don’t have to stop,” he murmured, a light breath leaving your lips.

“What?” You implored and Din could see the way your body reacted. His eyes on your thighs tensing and the way the knuckles in your hands stiffened, your tongue peeking out to wet your lips.

“You can call me your riduur,” he tilted his head, awaiting your reaction but your cheeks merely bloomed even more crimson than before.

“Ner riduur?”

Din smiled. Your voice interrupting the memory as he met your eyes, now kneeling before him with a small clay bowl of cooked meat and an array of greens.

“Are you hungry? Our friends have cooked the meat and we’re sharing it out. They seem quite pleased. This is for you,” You offered the bowl to him. Din tugged his glove off his hand, taking the bowl with his fingers grazing your warm ones.

“Thank you, cya’rika. I’m glad to hear you’re getting along well with them,” he watches as you beamed happily at his words.

“They seem docile,” you appraised, eyes on the doorway with a finger swiping your chin thoughtfully. “Although I believe them to be perhaps territorial when threatened. They would make for useful allies.”

Din grinned under his helmet.

This was just like you. You find the good in everyone.

“However,” you began and Din’s smile immediately slipped.

“However?” He urged as your brows narrowed.

You laughed, “I did have to sternly inform them that Grogu is our son and not food.” You stood, turning from him while Din scrambled with his words.

“Ner riduur, I don’t like the sound of this. We should leave-“

“Gotcha,” you turned swiftly on your way out the door, winking at him as he let out a heavy sigh. His heart momentarily starting back up again.

“That wasn’t funny,” he poked at the meat with the wooden spork.

You giggled, “I had to say something to get you to lighten up. Grogu is fine. In fact, he’s more than fine. They actually seem to be steering out of his way. He’d used the force earlier to get more meat for his plate. I had to scold him. Not the ewoks.”

“Ewoks?” Din’s shoulders lifted interestedly.

“Yes,” you nodded, “that’s what they are called. The creatures. The Ewok species. One of them had an old book with a description of this planet and the inhabitants.”

“Interesting,” Din looked to the doorway, listening to the small sounds of cheering and clashing of dishes.

He turns back and meets your smile, immediately growing self-conscious at the way you’re staring at him. You giggle when his visor darts down to the bowl and wander towards the doorway, hovering a moment with your hand against the small weaved shutter.

“Enjoy, ner riduur, I’ll make sure our son doesn’t eat too much,” you wink and Din hums lightly under his breath, feeling the overwhelming need to clear his throat when his face grows hotter at your intense eyes.

He hears you giggling again when you shut the door behind you, ensuring his privacy to remove his helmet as he eats.

He doesn’t feel alone as he does though.

Distantly, he can hear the babble of foreign voices and your laughter as well as Grogu’s whines for very likely something more to eat. Din takes his time, eating and surveying your conversation from afar. Something he takes great pleasure in.

A few minutes later, Din stands, his mouth dry from his meal, deciding to venture to find if these creatures have anything to wash their local veggies down with.

He abandons his bowl and the hut, following the light sounds of laughter and foreign voices. In front of one of the treehouses above, Din watches the gathering of Ewoks dancing while playing music. While intrigued by their customs, a flash of green appearing in his peripheral catches his attention and he swiftly turns his visor downward to find his son waddling towards him from out of a nearby hut a lot smaller than the others.

Din bends down, picking Grogu up when he reaches for him.

His son babbles to him in a mumble of incoherent words and mando’a.

“Where is your parent?” Din says. His visor flashes up towards the party above again but you don’t appear to be among them. If you were, Din was pretty sure you’d be prancing around happily like the rest of them.

Grogu babbles again, more increasingly and Din catches the words for “in there” translated from Mando’a. His head turning towards the hue of amber glow emitting from the small hut, shadows dancing from inside.

Din walks toward the door but stops almost instantly before his boots can cross the threshold.

He’s still when he sees you.

Your back to him, crouched down, he watches as you offer your hands to a darkened corner, murmuring soft reassuring words.

Din’s heart paces.

He’s not sure what you’re talking to but nevertheless it has him concerned when his hand lowers to the blaster at his thigh.

Though just as quick as he could hover his hand above it, your hands take the smaller furry ones pulling the shaky ewok from the confines of its comfort bubble. “It’s okay,” you murmur, “see? You are safe.” Din’s heart warms, his hand relaxing at his side. “We are no threat to you,” you whisper and Din goes to turn, a smile on his lips at your tenderness towards these creatures until he sees the way you wrap your arms around the small thing.

He freezes.

You lift it up into your arms, it’s little legs hanging loosely at your side as you clutch it tightly in your embrace, swaying side to side and rubbing your cheek affectionately against its head with a small giggle.

Din’s heart races so fast, he’s afraid the sound of his pulse is echoing through his helmet from his temples.

What in the maker-

The sound of Grogu blowing a loud raspberry fills the silence.

Din steps back suddenly just as your head snaps in his direction at the door. His feet already carrying him as quietly as possible back to your treehouse, patting a jealous Grogu and repeatedly shushing him as he protests in speedy babbles.

A few minutes later and after some pacing, Din ultimately resolved to putting his still babbling son to bed while thinking, if the little womp rat could coherently speak in more mando’a, he was most likely mocking him for running away at the sight of you.

Once Grogu was tucked in and secure, (there was no other balcony from the second floor, just an arched window), Din stomps back down the wooden steps, removing his chest piece and gloves. These small creatures may run in packs but if they were trouble, Din was more than sure he could handle them unarmed.

Once slumped against the tree bark, his ears honing for Grogu’s steady breaths and satisfied with the gentle sound, he lets his eyes fall closed a moment until the growing thud of boots flashes them open again.

You still at the door frame, taking in the relaxed fold of Din’s body in the corner of the room, your eyes frowning between the sleep space you had set up and his position.

When you notice the slight tilt of his head, you put your hands on your hips.

He’s watching you.

He’s awake.

“What?” You inquire, your eyes taking in the silent Mandalorian in front of you. His body stretched out lazily, arm folded against his chest with his back braced against the bark of the treehouse.

Din doesn’t respond.

He’s still fighting the need to shift his body, the discomfort setting in at how hot his face is getting under his helmet. The words burning at the tip of his tongue not quite ready to release. He sighs and you roll your eyes in response, your tired body carrying you up to the second floor to check on your sleeping child.

Leaving the grumpy metal man to his thoughts, Din tries to ignore his desires for you, attempting to drift off to rest but getting a constant flash of the image of you cuddling the Ewok tightly in your arms. Din groans mentally at the sight of your cheek pressed against the top of its furry head, a smile stretched across your face pleasantly. You smooth your fingers through its fur and sway gently from side to side.

Din had yet to hold you like that.

Or hold you in anyway at all.

He had only recently admitted to his feelings and doing so in a rather reserved manner. The closest he’d gotten to touching you was holding your hand. It hadn’t progressed any further since. He wanted to wait until you instigated any physical touch but when you hadn’t, Din just assumed it was unwanted on your part. So he feared the idea of trying to touch you even with your consent.

Did you really want him to? He’d never actually asked. Should he ask? Would you reject him?

He’s not fluffy and his beskar is far from soft but his body can be quite warm after spending most of the day under clothing and armor.

“Din?” Your voice called out in the night.

Oh kriff.

His thoughts had carried themselves to his bed.

The both of you now laying side by side.

A small space between your sleep mats preventing him from feeling your warmth.

“Yes cya’rika?”

Din had watched with stiff hands as you walked back into the hut earlier completely unaware of what he had witnessed. You’d probably think him completely stupid for making such a big deal out of the whole thing. I mean really? Din was older than you and yet he was being completely childish.

Was he really jealous about seeing you hold another creature in a way you had yet to touch him?

“Why are you so quiet?” You questioned.

“Are we not sleeping?” Din replied, matter-of-fact.

But his question left room for an answer and he gets it when he hears you roll over, propping an arm up and looking at his back.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since I came back to rest. What’s wrong?” He feels your eyes burning a hole through his helmet if it were even possible.

“Is it so unusual for me to be quiet, mesh’la? You always said I was deadly silent.” He chuckles, trying to make light while his insides flutter dangerously.

You hum, “This is true but I think there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Din shudders and he’s thankful you can’t see the movement through his padded suit.

“Everything is fine,” he speaks.

“Why do you lie?” You’re sitting up completely now, cross legged and he can picture your arms over your chest.

“Cya’rika,” he turns back around and sure enough there you are, eyebrows furrowed, arms folded facing him. “I do not lie.”

You exhale, “Din Djarin.”

When you’re using his full name, it’s never a good thing.

“Do you remember when you told me to always share our feelings with one another?”

He sighs. “Yes, I remem-“

“Less than a cycle ago, when Grogu was sick, you took him to Peli and went to the market for medicine. You woke up early and took him. When I woke up, I was beside myself with worry. When eventually you returned in the evening without him, what was my reaction?”

“You were very upset, mesh’la,” he sits up, wanting to provide you with his full attention, knowing you were concerned. It still bothered Din to this day that he overlooked how upset you had been.

“I was very upset, yes and when you told me where Grogu was, what did I say?”

“You told me I made you feel insufficient as a parent because I didn’t tell you our son was sick and made you feel that you couldn’t care for him so left him with a friend who would know what to do.”

“That’s right. I was very angry. I retrieved my son, came back and locked ourselves in our bunk without you until he pulled around from his fever. And what did you say when I finally let you see him?”

“To tell me when you’re upset. So that I can apologise and understand what I had done wrong because I don’t always realise it. It’s been a long time since I’ve shared my life with another human.”

“And what did I tell you?”

“To do the same.”

“So that leads us back to the present, my love,” Din’s visor lifts, his heart pounding at the sweet term on your lips. “Tell me what is wrong?”

Din’s body trembles but he swallows a lump in his throat, avoiding your gaze, he lets his thoughts release from his tongue, “Earlier I saw you with one of the creatures.”

You frown but nod, “the ewoks?”

Din nods, “Yes. I saw you holding it rather tightly.”

You seem puzzled until your eyes widen, realising what he’s saying.

“You seemed rather happy when you were holding it. I just thought, well I was curious if that was something you would like to do again?”

It’s silent. It’s so silent Din can hear the rustling of the trees through the forest.

“You mean if I would like to hold the ewok again?” Your voice comes out uneasily, clearing your throat awkwardly.

“I meant, if you would like to hold me?”

Din’s jaw tightens, his eyes closing. He’s so sure you’ll reject him. Why did he even say it? He should’ve just told you something else like how he was worried about the way you joked earlier about the ewoks wanting to eat Grogu, he should’ve just-

“Would you like me to hold you?”

Din’s helmet lifts immediately. His visor on yours and he swears while his head was dropped in denial, you’ve inched closer to him.

“Speak the truth.”

Din’s heart races at your words, his eyes running over your body, you’re practically crawling across to him and his shoulders lift and drop quickly with each uneasy breath he takes.

“Yes,” it’s urgent.

It’s pleading.

But before he can say anything else, your body is curled up into him, your legs trapping his broad ones, your arms slipping under his and flattening deliciously over his aching back muscles. Your head nuzzles up on his chest and Din looks down at your bodies, realising just how perfectly you fit together.

And then you squeeze.

Ever so gently but with enough pressure to send a wave of euphoria drowning out every unsure thought in Din’s mind.

“Is this okay?” You speak softly and Din bends to it, your voice and body draped over him like the softest blanket. His arms loosen, his hands finding refuge over your shoulders, the other weaving his fingers through your hair. You’re so soft. So warm. His fingers tugging gently through your strands, sending aches through your body. Maker, how you’ve longed for him.

“Yes. Is it okay for you?” He needs to know. He needs to know if you wanted this just as much as he does.

“It’s perfect,” and then you lift your head, your mouth inches from the underside of his visor where he swears you must be able to feel his breath escaping there and you do. You have to fight the urge to lift the helmet only so far as to press a soft kiss against those lips you have yet to feel, “You’re perfect, ner riduur.”

You shuffle your head back against his chest, “I’ve always wanted to do this.” You release a satisfied sigh, “I thought you wouldn’t like it.”

Din mentally groans, his arms tightening around you.

“I..I thought you’d reject me, ner kar’ta. That’s why I never asked. I’m sorry,” his voice drips with regret. Every night could’ve felt like this.

You giggle and Din feels his whole body relax at the sound.

“Such fools aren’t we? We got there in the end. So I guess I was wondering if we can do this every night?”

Din chuckles, a finger twirling around a strand of your hair, the other resting at your hip, “I was hoping we could. If that’s okay with you?” He takes the opportunity to tug you closer. His hands working over your back now while you shiver happily at the touch.

“Absolutely,” your lips tip into an amused grin, “especially since you got jealous. I need to make sure your needs are sated it seems.” You let your forehead tip against his helmet in a kiss momentarily and Din wished more than anything right now that he wasn’t wearing it at all.

Din doesn’t even argue with your accusation. He was jealous and he knew you’d find every way going forth to gauge that reaction from him again.

“Goodnight, Din,” you giggle, reading his mind.

“Sweet dreams, ner riduur,” he gently nudges his helmet against your head in return, feeling you relax, your eyes closing and gradually falling asleep in his arms.

Din smiles, watching you breathe slow, the puff of your chest felt against his own.

Maybe he should let you drag him on adventures more often if this is how they end.

[ddejavvu]

i think sitting on din djarin's lap would actually heal me.

like girl those thighs HAVE to be comfortable, no one can tell me different

there's my two cents for you! lysm!!

happy may the 4th! send me star wars requests/headcanons and we'll have a party <3

--

oh yeah. they're muscled but they're not rock-hard, there's some pudge to 'em that flattens out when you nestle yourself into his lap. they're the perfect blend of firm and comfortable and they're warm to boot, especially when din's been armored up all day and he's sweating his brains out, so you'll always have a cozy little spot to sit, provided grogu hasn't beaten you to it.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Ur recent Wally post lit a fire in my head lol. If you’re up for it could I request a FTM Din Djarin getting eaten out? Was thinking a quickie type scenario: helmet on, (most of his) armor on, squirming in the pilot seat?

FTM Din Djarin x male reader

Drabble

Mixed terminology for his bits. Still new to writing FTM characters x reader, and even newer to writing oral, so let me know how it is.

Dins thighs tensed against the captain’s seat of his ship, toes curling inside his boots as he exhaled shakily, his vocoder not even picking up the sound. But the quiver in his legs and the creak of his gloves at he gripped tighter onto the steering, trying to keep the ship on course as a suck could be heard from between his thighs.

Din was half slumped in his seat, having scooted his hips far out enough for you to wrap your lips around his t-cock and hook two of your fingers in his wet hole, curling them as you rub his sensitive bundle of nerves with the flat of your tongue. His hips jolt upwards as a punched-out noise leaves him, his cunt only growing wetter around your fingers as they press against that sensitive spot inside him.

He had no idea how you had convinced him to do this, or why he had allowed you to crawl down under the control panel, or why he had sat still as you pulled off the codpiece of his armor and opened up the bottom of his flight suit.

Because of the way he lives, Din was very sensitive in most areas of his body. His high stress lifestyle also meant he didn’t get to touch himself a lot. This resulted in him almost jumping out his seat the moment you licked through his folds, teasing his hole before focusing on his sensitive engorged t-cock. Hormone treatment has left him bigger than most, which only gives you more to suck on and tongue at, much to Dins pleasurable misery. The hormone treatment had also made it harder for him to get wet naturally, but your sinful tongue and fingers easily coaxed it out of him.

It was only because of his helmet that you didn’t get to see just how red his face was, or how sweat was pouring down his face and most of his body, as his layers and armor did little to keep him cool in this type of situation. You could hear from his shuddery breaths and the moans that passed through his helmets microphone, that he found this just as good as you did, if not more.

Pushing a third finger into his slit, Dins hips canted forwards with a sharp gasp, the noise quickly becoming a cracked moan as you pulled your mouth from his t-cock, only to rub it in cruel small circles with your thumb. It was enough to force him mercilessly over the edge, his hold tightening around your fingers as his back arched and he moaned loud enough for his helmet to crackle.

Normally you would have ended it there, but Din let out a breathless keen as you withdrew your fingers with a slick noise, only to replace them with your tongue, as you lifted his leg just enough to access to his cunt easier.

Din was quick to grasp at your hair, his noises turning higher and higher pitched as he hurdled into overstimulation in a way that hurt so good. His still armored thighs quivered like leaves on a tree, his free hand smacking blindly at the control panel to put the ship into autopilot.

At the familiar click of autopilot, Dins other hand found your hair as well, dragging you even closer to his wetness, the wet slurps and licks only fueling the heat inside him further. Dins vision was almost swimming as feeling of orgasm brewed in his abdomen once more, feeling borderline painful at how quickly you had pushed him from one orgasm to the next.

Returning your lips to his t-cock, he almost screamed as you gave it a cruel suck, just barely scraping your teeth against the hard bundle. It had his feet planting onto the floor, his hips lifting off the seat as he wailed, wrenching your face deeper into his crotch, a soundless wail leaving him as pleasure-pain thundered up his spine.

Your lips became covered in his slick, the front of your shirt soaking in his juices as they squirted out of him, his entire body quivering and tense. You could tell from the little bit of skin exposed under his helmet that his jaw was open, stuck in an open moan as he rode out his orgasm against your face. All you could do, was rub lovingly at his thighs as he shook and whimpered, catching him as he fell limp back into his seat and situating him correctly.

A string of slick was connected from his slit to your mouth as you pulled back from him, grinning wolfishly up at him as he glanced down at you. Din didn’t even need to say anything for you to know he was flustered and embarrassed, especially when he noticed just how soaked your face and shirt was. The microphone of his helmet picked up a few warbles of his voice, mixed with a few half-formed apologies.

With a shake of your head, you told him not to apologize since it was really hot, as you closed up the bottom of his flight suit once more, and clicked the codpiece of his armor back in place. Din gave a slight wiggle of his hips as you stood up, clearly uncomfortable with how wet his crotch was, but he was too embarrassed to say anything about it as you shot him a wink.

The choked noise that left him as you wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand was like music to your years, an almost peacock like pep to your step as you sauntered towards the fresher to clean up. Who but you could say they had someone as dangerous as Din wailing and squirting on their face? It truly did things for your ego, a fact Din liked to remind you about regularly. But those times, you were always quick to show him it wasn’t like reasonless ego, much to Dins pleasure.

[archieimagines]

Imagine ranting to Din while he repairs the Razor Crest.

finally, it’s written! this request has been sat on my list for a while, so to those who requested it, thank you for your patience! requested by: @ackermanbitch​ and an anon! written by: archie support me on ko-fi!

this is inspired by @yournewwriter‘s gentle prompts: moving you by the waist.

If there was one thing you could do, it was talk.

At first, Din hated it. He hated how you’d walked into the Crest like it was your home when he was only offering you a lift to a nearby system, he’d hated how you’d talked the whole time… and he hated how he’d accidentally grown fond of you.

He became glad to offer you a temporary place by his side when your situation shifted and you needed a residence, but there was no way he was expecting you to stick around for this long and still have so many stories to tell.

Somehow, tuning into your rambles both passed the time and helped him focus. He could fly easily with your words taking up a different space in his brain, and all the hours felt so much shorter, like he’d been travelling the universe beside you. You somehow kept him cheerful and engaged, even in the tough times. You had a natural knack for knowing what kind of story to tell, how to echo and fix his moods with your own experiences, which gave him an outlet for his own emotions. 

And that’s how it was right now, his mood utterly foul as he worked on repairing the Crest after a sticky run-in, but his scowl was placed on hold. Or at least, directed to Mr Narvo, your old, snail-esque colleague in that restaurant on Corellia.

“I swear, I hadn’t done a thing wrong. The order was correct, I did everything to match what the stupid customer had asked for, but he really just-- You know what?” You wandered by him as you talked, frustrated and pacing as all the irritation from working at that restaurant came right back. “I think he’d decided that it would be a bad day for me already. He slithered in and just knew he was gonna try and get me fired.”

You paused your pacing, facing the beskar-clad warrior as he retracted an arm from inside the ship’s panel.

“-And he just kinda blinked at me. You know that eye thing?” Your hands, which had been flapping around animatedly, lifted to hold invisible spheres above your head. “Like the antennae lean forward and just look at you and squint and- honestly it’s so annoying because I can feel how he’s judging me but like? At least my eyeballs aren’t half a metre above from my head, right?”

“Right,” came Din’s voice as he dipped into a toolbox, proceeding to reach back into the side of his ship and twist some valves. His voice was a dry monotone, but he hadn’t once told you to shut up yet, so that was all you needed to continue your spiel.

“Right! So I just- I don’t mean to be rude, but I kinda do- I couldn’t keep it in, okay?” Din halted your pacing and handed you the metal tool, reaching into the Crest again. “… I told him to go stick his eyeballs in the dishwasher.”

Din paused. He turned to look at you. You were almost sure he’d tell you that it was a low blow, or that it wasn’t worth such a threat, but his modulated voice rose with a question. “And did he?”

“Wh- No, Din. Why would he-“

He shrugged one shoulder, stepping away to rummage in the toolkit once more. “That guy was purposely villainizing you, day after day. The least he could do would be-“

“If the universe was a decent place he’d be blinking bubbles, I know,” you chattered on, wandering once again. “But unfortunately, the universe is horrible, Narvo is still out there terrorising colleagues and-“ You stopped dead, peering down at the helmeted man, busy with his tools. “He got me fired.”

Din stopped his hands, visor raised up at you. Of course you couldn’t see his expression, but you didn’t need to as his disbelief met your ears. “It worked?”

“I know!?” You toyed with the tool, the weight falling from hand to hand, gripping it with each as if to decide which hand would better suit hitting Narvo in the eyeball with it, mouth running a mile a minute all the while. “He went straight to the manager, clearly he’d been building up some bullshit case of all the things I’d apparently done wrong— which I always had a particular reason for, by the way, and they were never even against the rules—”

The irritation still buzzed in your veins, even if it was months ago. What started as your attempt to take Din’s mind off the frustration from a damaged ship had turned into a surprise therapy session that seemed to uproot some sort of inferiority complex, and now you were just airing out your issues without even being aware of Din bustling around you.

“Like, I’m a good worker, you know? I take pride in that because I actually care about what I put into the universe, I strive to make this shitty place better for the people, unlike Narvo. He was just there to feed his own-”

Gentle hands on your waist had you startled, and your gaze shot up to the visor, eyes wide and an unmistakable heat to your cheeks. He’d never touched you like this before.

You couldn’t help leaning into his hold, heart beating like crazy-

A gentle pressure from one hand had you stepping aside, and then it was gone.

He leant past you, reaching into the metal hood of the ship. You’d parked right in front of it without even noticing, far too wrapped up in the fury of your tale.

“Keep going,” he spoke, and you fumbled to find your words again, fiddling with the tool in your hands.

“Wh- What was I saying again?”

A gloved hand reached back to take the tool from your hands. “He was just feeding his ego by preying on you. It’s better to keep away from characters like that.”

Your stride finally came back to you and the story continued in your mind, but the sure flutter in your chest was going at full force. “Right, I learned that by now.”

“You want me to put a hit on him?”

You scoffed. “Din, please. …But if we stop off at Corellia, he’ll shit himself when he sees me with a Mandalorian.”

A soft breath of laughter, so quiet you almost missed it. “Then that’s our next stop.”

[entitled-fangirl]

Such a pretty sight.

Din Djarin x reader

Summary: Toro Calico drags Mando into his hunt, which drags the Mandalorian's riduur and child into it as well.

Warnings: blasters, cursing, kidnapping, weird comments

Masterlist

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"Where are we going?"

Din turned back to look at his riduur. "I'm finding work."

This didn't help her confusion. "Then why am I coming with you?"

He turned to start walking again, "Because Mesh'la, you need a break from the kid. Now, put your mask back on."

She huffed under her breath but didn't argue.

When she started traveling with Din, he had given her a mask that fitted the bottom half of her face. It was simply for her safety, considering the wanted child they carried with them.

…

"Hey, droid, I'm a hunter. I'm lookin' for some work." The Mandalorian leaned on the bar, Y/N awkwardly standing behind him.

"Unfortunately, the Bounty Guild no longer operates from Tatooine."

"I'm not looking for Guild work."

The girl's head snapped up. What is Din doing?

"I am afraid that does not improve your situation, at least by my calculation."

A voice came from across the cantina, "Think again, tin can."

Y/N could feel the slight annoyed feeling in Din purely by his stance. He turned to look at the man who had interrupted them.

"If you're looking for work, have a seat, my friend." The man was young and cocky, Y/N could tell that much. "I'm Toro, Toro Calico." He pointed to the table he was sitting at, "C'mon, relax."

Y/N stepped forward slightly, her voice slightly muffled through the modulator of her small mask, "Mandalorians don't relax."

Toro smiled, "How about pretty girls?"

Din scoffed under his mask and moved to sit at the table, Y/N following behind.

Toro puts down his Bounty Puck, "Picked this up before I left the Mid Rim. It's Fennec Stand, an Assassin. I heard she's been on the run since the New Republic put all her employers in lockdown." He stared into Din's visor, which gave him nothing to read from him.

Din's deep, even voice calm through the modulator, "I know the name."

"Well, I followed this tracking fob here. Now the positional data suggests she's headed out beyond the Dune Sea." Toro looks over to Y/N with a charming smile, "Should be an easy job."

Din was getting annoyed, "Well, good luck with that." He got up from the table, holding his hand out to help Y/N stand. 

Toro was surprised, "Wait, wait, wait, hey. I thought you needed work?"

Din turned sharply, "How long have you been with the Guild?"

"Long enough."

"Clearly not. Fennec Shand is an elite mercenary. She made her name killing for all the top crime syndicates, including the Hutts." He balanced his weight onto his other foot, "If you go after her, you won't make it past sunrise."

He grabbed Y/N's wrist gently, pulling her away from the table. 

Toro groaned and moved to follow them, "This is… my first job. You can keep the money, all of it. I just need the job to get into the Guild." He scoffed, "I can't do it alone."

Din considered the plea, "Meet me at Hanger three-five in half an hour."

Toro looked relieved. But Din wasn't done.

"...bring two speeder bikes and give me the tracking fob."

Toro's eyes widened, his gaze shifting from the Mandalorian to the girl before he smashed the fob against the wall.

Din's head tilted in anger, and even his riduur was nervous.

Toro smiled, "Don't worry, got it all memorized."

Din's voice lowered, "Half an hour."

The man nodded. He turned to Y/N again, "And do I get to know your name before you leave?"

Her eyes widened, her lips slightly parted under her mask in slight shock. She turned to Din.

But before she could answer, Din's voice broke through, "No."

And he grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the cantina.

Toro yelled on their way out, "Looks like you're stuck with me now, partners."

…

The walk back to the Razor Crest was tense and she was unsure what to say. 

They walked up the ramp.

As she went to say something, Din stopped as if he hit a brick wall.

She stopped behind him, "…Din?"

The kid was gone.

Din ran out, leaving Y/N behind. 

He kicked at the droid near the Razor Crest, his voice a low growl, "WHERE IS HE??"

Peli Motto ran out with the child in her arms, "Quiet! Oh!" She shushes the child, "You woke it up."

Y/N wandered down the ramp, watching the exchange.

Din is enraged. "Give him to me."

"Not so fast. You can't just leave a child all alone like that. You know," she remarked, "you two have an awful lot to learn about raising a young one."

Y/N stepped up to meet Din. She looked to the woman, "Please. I'm his mother, Please."

Din went rigid at the confession. 

His riduur considered herself the child's mother.

Peli Motto sighed, handing the child to Y/N. Y/N immediately took the child back into the ship, a content smile on her face.

Peli held her hands on her hips, "Anyway, I started the repair on the fuel leak. There you go. I had a couple setbacks I want to talk to you about. You know, I didn't use any droids, as requested, so it took me a lot longer than I expected."

Din moved back into the ship, grabbing his bag.

She smiled, "But I figured you were good for the money since you have a few extra mouths to feed."

Din stopped, "Thank you."

…

Din met Toro in the Hanger, leaving his riduur and child in the ship. 

Toro sat on one of the speeder bikes proudly, "Hey, Mando, what do you think? Not too shabby, huh?"

Din expected the bike carefully.

Toro opened his mouth again, "What? You didn't bring the lady with you?"

Din turned slowly and angrily, but took a few deep breaths to make himself relax. "No."

Toro laughed, putting on his goggles, "Shame really. Would've been a pretty sight."

And he took off on the bike before Din could retaliate. 

Din followed behind. 

…

Y/N sat in the Razor Crest with the ramp down for hours while the men were gone, happily entertaining the child, and making small talk with Peli who continued her work. But soon, Peli had finished and made her way into her home for the night.

The Mandalorian's riduur babbled with the child and he walked around happily.

She heard footsteps and peaked her head up, hoping for Din to have already returned.

But he hadn't.

Toro did.

And he was aiming his blaster at her.

"Stand up, girl."

Her eyes widened in fear, shifting to the child.

Toro's tone became angrier, "I stand, stand up."

She did, holding her hands up.

"Now, get the child."

Y/N leaned down and picked up the child as intructed. "Toro, please…"

"Quiet. You're gonna do as I say."

…

Now at nightfall, he was finally making his way back to the Razor Crest.

The whole plan had gone to shit and the man had abandoned him.

Or had he?

Cause now Din saw the speeder bike outside of the Razor Crest.

He took out his blaster, carefully approaching.

"Took you long enough, Mando."

Toro emerged from the dark of the Razor Crest ramp. He held Y/N tight to his chest, and in her arms sat the child. His blaster was against the girl's temple uncomfortably.

"Looks like I'm calling the shots now. Huh, partner? Now drop your blaster and raise 'em."

He took a moment to study his riduur. She no longer had her mask. Her eyes were wide in uncertainty, and she held the child close to her chest in comfort. 

He couldn't handle the sight.

So, he dropped the blaster, and held his hands behind his head.

Y/N let out a gasp, "Mando…"

Toro grabbed at her neck harshly with his free hand, "Shut it."

The man leaned his head down to hers, his lips gently touching her ear, "I want you to go cuff him. Give me the child."

She gave out a small whimper, but knew there was no way to fight it.

She gave Toro the child and took slow, hesitant steps with the cuffs towards her riduur.

Toro took this time to monologue, "You're a Guild traitor, Mando. And I'm willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape." He held his blaster towards the child.

Y/N, who had no reached Mando at this point, gently called out, "Don't touch him, please… please…"

Toro scoffed, "Cuff him, pretty girl. I'm waiting."

She nodded, moving towards Din.

Din had something in his hands behind his head.

"…Bringing you in won't just make me a member of the Guild, it'll make me legendary."

Mando took that as his opportunity.

He pressed the button on the remote in his hand, making a bright light and small explosion that blinded Toro.

Din grabbed Y/N and hid behind the nearest wall.

And blaster fire was all Y/N could hear and think about.

Until Toro was shot and fell from the ramp.

Y/N cursed, following closely behind Mando to the body. He reprimanded, "Stay back, Mesh'la."

She couldn't help it, "…the child…Din…?"

The child was no near to be seen.

She began to look around as Din inspected Toro's dead body.

Finally, she heard his babbling from behind a nearby crate.

"Oh, thank the maker… C'mere." She held the child close, kissing his little bald head.

When Din had turned back to his riduur, a smile came across his face beneath the beskar.

Toro was right.

She is such a pretty sight.

He stepped close to the woman and child. His gloved fingers lightly grazed the cut on her forehead.

She shook her head, "M'fine, Din."

He nodded. "Let's go, Cyare."

The little family left Tattooine in the Razor Crest. 

Din may have had fewer credits than he hoped to make out with, but he had much more that he was grateful to have. 

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