#mandalorianess

[psyzook]

Everyone is so thirsty over Din Djarin, and because of it there is so. much. smut fanfiction. And I’m absolutely astounded by it.

You’re telling me this guy is feral and horny? I don’t believe it. He is a anxious, touch-starved, gentleman who has no idea how to express emotion. He’s the nervousness of Jenna Marbles’s dog, Kermit, personified and in a tin can.

#din djarin #the mandolarian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandaloria/reader #the mandalorian #the mandolorian #din dijarin fanfiction #din dijarn #din dijarin x reader #din djarin smut

[taissabelle]

The main character, played by Pedro Pascal, picks up a child who's supposed to save a daying nation. He travel around, all cranky about it, through the adventer, develops deep emotional attachment to the child, and risk his ass for them. Which one is it ?

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the mandaloria/reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the child #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #baby grogu #joel and ellie

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret ☆

A MANDALORIAN SERIES MASTERLIST

[ COMPLETED ]

✩ a bodyguard!din x princess!reader fic ✩

series summary :

Married off to a prince on a planet that you hate? New husband doesn't know you, and doesn't want to know you? New husband gifts you a personal Mandalorian body guard as a wedding present? Mandalorian is a wiseass who won't leave you alone? Lucky you.

18+ mdni

do you like kitschy, campy romance novels? if you're reading this, I hope so.

behind the scenes & chapter notes + other extras (spoilers) :

chapters 1-5

chapter 6-15

spotify playlists

Lysa & Elaine information

the bks screen adaption

bks q&a

bks what if's

reader is generally not described past being picked up a few times, and having hair long enough to be put up

✩ chapters containing smut!

chapter one : honeymoon (6.7k words)

[ Absurd.

That is the only word that comes to mind as you stare at yourself in the mirror. “His favorite color is blue.” ]

chapter two : silent treatment (7.4k words)

[ Something is wrong. You bolt up from the pile of blankets that you call a bed and your eyes dart around the closet as you furrow your brow trying to discern why you feel so much different. ]

✩ chapter three : the smitten paladin (4.6k words)

[ You’re starting to think the planet isn’t the reason you’re so hot all the time.

You had woken up this morning feeling a bit better than you thought you’d be, your stomach is full of butterflies but you're still standing and considering the night you had you’re gonna take that as a win. ]

chapter four : sarad'ika (6.8k words)

[ Sarad'ika. 

You won’t forget it this time, you can’t. So you write it in your book, just under Mando’s favorite color you write the two little words that have been keeping you up at night. ]

✩ chapter five : lunar interlude : just a man (5.0k words)

[ Absurd.

It’s absurd how much the job pays. Din’s not even sure he should take it at this point because it’s too good to be true. ]

✩ chapter six : torment (5.1k words)

[ Okay, maybe you didn’t think this through. 

You didn’t think he’d actually come in and now suddenly the door is shut and you’re alone with him. ]

✩ chapter seven : just friends (3.1k words)

[ Maker it feels like it’s been an hour and you’re both just laying here. He was just inside of you; it shouldn't be so hard to find something to talk about at this point. ]

chapter eight : solar markets (5.3k words)

[ It’s nice to wake up excited again. 

You wish you could say that it happened more often but hopefully it will from now on. It’s going to be your first time leaving the castle grounds since you got here. ]

✩ chapter nine : shuk'la rules (5.6k words)

[ You need sex.

Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. ]

✩ chapter ten : lunar interlude : briikase gote'tuur (4.1k words)

[ He’s grateful for the break from you, even if brief. 

That’s not to say that he doesn’t enjoy every moment he gets to be in your presence but the more time he spends with you the harder it gets to remember that this isn’t real. ]

chapter eleven : he loves me not (4.6k words)

[ Something is wrong. 

All day it’s been wrong. 

He’s different. Distant. ]

chapter twelve : pretend (4.4k words )

[ Two days.

That’s what you’re willing to give yourself. Two days to get over it. One to get it all out of your system and one to pull yourself together. ]

chapter thirteen : lunar interlude : vercopa (3.5k words)

[ He did it.

He did exactly what he knew he needed to do.

So why does he feel worse than ever? ]

chapter fourteen : condemned (4.9k words)

[ You’re having trouble sleeping. 

You have no problem falling asleep, it’s mostly staying asleep. There’s a million different things that consume your thoughts and everytime you drift into unconsciousness you find yourself jolting awake, barely able to stay asleep for more than an hour at a time. ]

chapter fifteen : two tea parties (5.4k words)

[ “What did you do to her?”

Her voice breaks through his sleepy haze as he sits up properly. 

“Excuse me?” ]

chapter sixteen : absolution (4.6k words)

[ There’s a visceral sense of dread when you wake up, for several reasons. 

The glaring obvious culprit of your discomfort would be the fact that today’s your husband's birthday. ]

chapter seventeen : the apostate’s cabin (3.5k words)

[ Just Din. 

It’s sinking in as you walk in silence, holding his hand tightly as he pulls you towards his home. ]

chapter eighteen : portrait of a man (5.4k words)

[ It’s deliciously warm when you wake. You can feel his heartbeat and you can feel the soft traces of sunlight dancing along your back. You stretch in his arms slightly but freeze up as you feel him nuzzle his chin into your hair, planting a kiss against your hairline. ]

✩ chapter nineteen : reverence (7.3k words)

[ You really want to. 

You couldn’t possibly want to more than you currently do. 

It’s actually a bit mean. That he’s left you here in this state. ]

✩ chapter twenty : like real people do (8.4k words)

[ Mando and Din. 

All you can think about right now is how there must be two of them. 

You’re playing with his curls. ]

✩ chapter twenty one : te mirci't (9.0k words)

[ “It means I love you.” 

You aren’t entirely sure how long you stare at him, looking rather silly with your jaw practically on the floor. ]

✩ chapter twenty two : it’s you that i lie with (11.3k words)

[ Naboo has several trading ports. 

You could get him on a cargo ship. That would be the most inconspicuous form of transport. It would help if he was willing to ditch his armor. ]

✩ chapter twenty three : lunar markets (15.0k words)

[ Sneaking out of the castle gets easier every time you do it. 

It only takes a few minutes and you’re walking outside towards the forest trail, Din’s hand in yours, still giddy. ]

✩ chapter twenty four : lunar interlude : riduur (7.8k words)

[ He doesn’t deserve this.

How could he possibly be deserving of you? Yet somehow you make him feel as if he is. With your soft touch and the way your eyes get just a little bigger when you see him. ]

✩ chapter twenty five : wedding bells (11.7k words)

[ Four days of Leo. 

You were upset that Din was leaving you but you got over it rather quickly with the promise of his hasty return. ]

chapter twenty six : crucifixion (12.7k words)

[ “My room is too big.” 

He bursts into genuine peals of laughter and you gently smack his arm.

“Don’t laugh, it’s a serious issue! My room is enormous.” ]

chapter twenty seven : the apostate (6.0k words)

[ Silence.

That’s all there is in his brain. 

It’s hard enough as is for him to hear. It doesn’t help when he’s been beaten half to death. ]

✩ chapter twenty eight : a place for us (8.4k words)

[ You’d spent the better half of the day trying to get on top of him. 

Every time you managed to get close he’d simply set you down on the nearest surface with a kiss on the cheek and go back to doing whatever he was working on. ]

chapter twenty nine : the best kept secret (epilogue) (6.1k words)

[ The morning sun is warm against your face, you bask in it, unmoving and only half awake until you feel a tiny hand slapping your cheek. The illusion of tranquility is immediately shattered as you softly laugh. ]

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #the mandaloria/reader #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #slowish burn #forced proximity

[pedritapascal]

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro is daddy #pedro x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #dave york #equalizer 2 #fanfic do personagem pedro pascal #joel miller #fanfic #pedrito #the mandaloria/reader

[wandasfifthwife]

Din Djarin | misunderstandings

Din Djarin x fem!reader

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

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

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your injury, is it hurting that—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My heart.”

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

[notquitecanon]

Sacrifice & Devotion // Din Djarin x Reader

Hurt comfort lil fic

here's a fun lil game of spot the dialogue I stole from criminal minds!

tw: no mentions of gender, mention and description of canon typical injury, mention of canon typical violence, reader is a bounty hunter, specifically a sniper, unedited, written in one sitting while I pulled an all nighter

fics where two idiots who are obviously in love are so terrible at pretending to not be in love that it circles back around to one of them thinking its unrequited/being so oblivious they still don't notice are my bread and butter

Summary: Reader and Mando both have insecurities that are starting to boil over and cause some heavy miscommunication. It takes a blaster wound for them to talk it out.

You had stalked off to lick you wounds before the Crest’s engines even cooled, finding a cozy rooftop with a good view of the city, dark enough to feel concealed but enough ligh to tend to yourself. 

Mando hadn’t been able to catch you, he had to deliver proof of service to your contractors. The waiting credits were much needed to repair the ship’s latest malfunctions if either of you wished to leave this system in the next rotation. 

Not to mention the med pac that would need replenishing after you were done. In favor of not bleeding out, you had started with the most severe, the blaster wound to your shoulder. The med scanner had informed you it was primarily superficial, but was at risk of infection. 

You sniffed, for something so superficial, the wound sure was leaking blood like a broken tap. The scanner had suggest a bacta infusion, but after your last hunt, the last bacta infusion was only half full. Still, even half would slow the bleeding and lower the risk of infection. You hissed after spraying it with a coagulant and then cursed with the auto-injector of the syringe delivered the half dose of bacta. Next, you moved onto bandages, wrapping the gauze in looping circles. 

Metal clinked quietly behind you, alerting you to your company. Mando hovered in the shadows until you turned halfway towards him, like he didn’t want to startle you but also didn’t want to attract you frustration if you hadn’t cooled off yet. 

His modulator didn’t hide the concern in his voice, even if he tried to, “Those are too loose, you’ll get an infection.” 

“Well, are you gonna lurk in the shadows or come help me?” You sighed, nodding to the other discarded cargo crate beside the one you had pulled into the light, “How’d you find me?” 

Mando looked around as he approached and sat beside you, like it was obvious, “Easily accessible rooftop, city views and eyes on the ship. Removed but still involved. Sniper’s paradise.”  

You tried to ignore the flush of heat up your neck, sometimes between the very few words Mando spoke it was easy to forget  how astute his observations could be. It always shocked you when he voiced his perceptions of you, and flustered you when they were correct. So you cleared your throat, “Where’s the kid?”

The bounty hunter chuckled before stepping to the side, revealing the pram, closed, “Little one’s been asleep since we hit atmosphere.” 

Mando waited a moment before holding his hand, “Let me help you with those.” 

You licked your teeth before offering the roll of bandages to him. His gloved fingers closed around it before unraveling your previous handiwork. Fortunately the bleeding had mostly stopped, but you didn’t miss how his visor paused on the stained smears of blood down your arms and across your clothes. It made you bristle all over again, which he obviously noticed since he quickly started wrapping the injury before you rescinded your cooperation. It pained you to say he was right, your wrappings had been way too loose. Still, the tightness made you flinch more than you were proud to admit, making you feel like a child at a doctor’s office. Especially with how gentle he was being, how sincere his apologies were with every flinch. Your frustration welled back up at his gentility, your jaw setting which only made the split of your lip hurt worse. 

“You’re upset.” He observed, taking the bacta gel and spreading it on a cotton swab so he could dab at the open slice across your thigh which gave him the perfect excuse to drop his gaze from yours.  Sometimes you wished you also wore a helmet, make it a little harder for Mando to read your emotions. Make him play body language trivia during every interaction of every day, “I shouldn't have left you alone. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. You have every right to be upset."

Especially, if he was going to to read them incorrectly and break your heart in he process. Of course he thought that’s what you were upset about. The Mandalorian- all beskar steel, blaster smoke, and the worlds he balanced on his shoulders. 

You slumped your shoulders, ignoring the ache from your newly bandaged wound. You averted your gaze off to the Razor Crest, watching half a dozen workers frantically making two dozen repairs. Mando sighed, gingerly working the bacta into the gash with one hand, meanwhile you became acutely aware of his other gloved hand holding your thigh still. Gentle, yet firm, and his thumb was rubbing soothing circles against your exposed skin.  Mando took so much on himself and never expected any sort of reciprocity, didn’t know how to accept it. It filled you with anger all over again.

“Mando. I’m not mad at you for not being there to protect me.” You shook your head, glancing at his hand on your thigh before meeting his visor. You wondering if his eyes were as sad as his posture let on, quickly followed by a train of thought about his eyes that you decided to misattribute to the blood loss. 

“I should have been there. That sleemo never should have gotten close enough to touch you, much less do this.” He growled, taking the tube of liquid bandage and squeezing it across the gash. 

“Yeah, Mando, you should have been in two places at once and done my job for me. You’re right.” You groaned sarcastically, trying to snatch the tube out of his hand only to have him catch your wrist. Seeing your sharp look, he dropped your wrist but didn’t hand over the tube, instead finishing his application in silence. 

“Oh my stars- that was sarcasm Mando. I’m being facetious.” You were gobsmacked, did that helmet cut off airflow? Was his brain so oxygen deprived that he thought you truly expected that of him? How deep did this self martyrdom run? 

“You really don’t trust me, do you?” You finally asked, breaking  all contact to retract your legs from him. If he kept rubbing those circles on your thigh… you might do something dramatic, “I know I’m not a Mandalorian, and I’m probably not the best bounty hunter you’ve ever met, but if you can’t trust me to do my job then why let me keep tagging along.” 

Mando’s helmet was kind of doing a little spiral motion as if trying to follow your logic, “What? I trust you, of course I trust you.” 

“But not enough to do my job.” You snipped, “If you trust me so much why do your part of the job and mine before I even get the chance? Always swooping in to finish things, even when I have it under control. Why call me your partner if I’m basically a piece of cargo you have to feed? Why keep me around if I’m such a hinderance?” 

Mando actually flinched back at your sudden outburst, and you quickly looked away, maybe you had let more of your own insecurity show than you meant to. But it was all true. If he told you to take care of the perimeter, he’d flush out the inside and do a perimeter sweep before you even got to a good stakeout spot with your rifle. If you were both engaged in hand to hand combat, he’d recklessly rush his fight so shoot your opponent for you.  

The armored warrior was silent for a good long while, his visor watching you as you started to squirm under his gaze. You were about to interject, tell him to drop it and not worry about it, but as you opened your mouth he held a hand up to stop you, “I have no reservations about your skills. I trust you with my life.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, reopening the cut through the one over your left eye, “Then-“ 

Once again, he interrupted you by saying your name quietly… reverently. You went silent. 

“When I went against the guild on Nevarro, you were the only guild member to stand with me. I never would have made it off planet with the child if you hadn’t intervened. You gave everything up to help me, you didn’t know me and yet you threw your life away to help me escape with the child. You could have earned enough credits to retire three times over by turning me in, you’ve had chance after chance to betray me, and yet,” He paused to look at you, really look at you, “You’ve risked your life time after time for the child, for me. You devoted yourself to this quest as if it were your own. How could I do any less than you?” 

His gloved hand reached for yours, his thumb grazing over your split knuckles from a up close encounter with a pirate, “Every time I allow someone to hurt you, it’s an affront to your sacrifice.” 

Your eyes softened, letting him dab that bacta cream across the marred skin, “Mando, we’re bounty hunters. Getting hurt is an occupational hazard. I knew the risks when I did what I did.” 

He was silent; his visor tipped away from you over to the pram where the Child slept, “You do too much for us.” 

“Hypocrite.” You teased, trying to lighten the mood. His confession had eased your frustrations, a balm to your own insecurities. Of course this had come from a place of protectiveness, how very… Mandalorian. Considering him for a moment, you angled your body back towards him. You knew all this duty weighed on him, and often there wasn’t much you could do to help, but at the moment, on your perfectly chosen rooftop, you knew what he needed. You handed him a new cotton swap and the small bacta patches that would prevent the cuts on your face from scarring, “Do my face so we can find some dinner?” 

He nodded quickly, taking the supplies and pulling you a bit closer to him, so close that you knee overlapped his own armored thigh, and you were close enough to count the scratches on his chest plate, even in the dim light. The slight lean taxed your sore core and back muscles, so you steadied yourself by placing a hand on his knee. He almost jerked, but cleared his throat, taking a moment to relax again. Your lip tugged up, he unconsciously moved closer. 

You let him work in silence for a long pause, enjoying the night breeze. He gingerly cleaned each cut and scrape, gloved fingers grazing your cheeks, the slope of your nose, your lips and a whole bunch of other places you knew weren’t injured. You tried not to let your breath catch, in case that would spur him to stop. 

Eventually, he stopped pretending to be using both hands, leaving his left one cupping your cheek ’to keep you still’. You leaned into the touch, allowing the softness of the moment before your next bounty or side quest came along. You liked when it was just the two of you, Mando talked a lot more, he was unintentionally one of the funniest people you knew.

You were shocked to find his company so enjoyable after all the rumors of him being only slightly more human than an assassin droid. Sure he was stoic, usually silent, focussed, but he was also kind, more compassionate than he would admit, and unwaveringly loyal.  Dank Farrik, he made it hard to stay mad at him. 

Closing your eyes (a big sign of trust for a sniper), you laid your hand over the one cupping your cheek, “Mando, I didn’t make this sacrifice expecting anything from you. I just wish you’d let me help you more, you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I hate seeing you hurt, more than I know how to explain.” His voice was gruffer than usual as he placed a patch over the split in your brow. Your hand on his knee squeezed gently. 

“I don’t need you to protect me, I need you to know that, especially at the risk of your own safety.” You reminded him with a softness to your voice that you seldom used to anyone other than the Child. A thumb brushed across the peak of your cheek before moving a stray piece of hair so he could patch a scrape under the corner of your eye. 

“I know that, ner kar’ta.” His tone matched yours: soft, gentle, intimate. Your head cocked to the side, but Mando wasn’t feeling up to explaining so he continued on, placing another patch across the bridge of your nose, “Still, I think I’ll stay on the job a while longer.” 

________

After dinner and chasing the pit droids out of the Razor Crest, it was time for some well needed rest. Mando had managed to scrounge up some light dosage pain medication when he stopped to replenish the medpacs. Not enough to leave you delirious, but strong enough to make you drowsy and a little loose with your thoughts. Nothing you’d regret, just a couple more direct than usual questions for you beskar wrapped bunkmate. You watched him putter around the cargo hold from your cot with half lidded eyes, as he went through and checked over everything the droids might have touched.  

“How much longer?” You couldn’t help but ask, wondering if your days with the Mandalorian were already numbered. Mando’s helmet turned towards you before sliding the circuit panel back into the wall. 

“Sorry, I’m almost done. Try to get some sleep.” He answered quietly, trying to minimize the noise he made as he moved about the small space. 

“Not that.” You waved him off, the motion much clumsier, heavier than usual, “Protecting me- a fool’s errand by the way. You said you’d stay on the job a while longer.” 

Mando sighed, moving towards his rack, the one with the closing door that he’d tried to give to you, but you refused. It was the only place other than the privy he could remove his helmet, you refused to let him give that away. He flicked lights off as he went, leaving only the dim glow of button lights to reflect on his armor. He was silent long enough that the darkness lulled you into a bit of a half sleep. Maybe that was his goal, still he answered you. Quietly, in that same reverent tone he’d said your name with earlier that evening. 

“Every single day for the rest of my life.” 

Exhaustion, blood loss, and narcotics dulled the effect of that declaration, but you heart still clenched at the sincerity of his voice. Your eyes wouldn’t open anymore and your thoughts were becoming increasingly sluggish with every beat of your heart. 

“Thanks, Mando.” You breathed, listening to the clicks of his armor being disassembled and neatly placed away, finally the hiss of his helmet being disengaged, knowing it must be dark enough he wasn’t worried about you seeing his face. 

“Din, that’s my actual name. You can call me Din when it’s just us.” He breathed into the night, barely registering in your mind, but you tucked away that information where you’d remember it tomorrow. You heart clenched again at his offer to you, showing how much he trusted you. 

“Thanks, Din."

-----

Ner K'arta - my heart

now that's what I call shitty writing

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #the mandaloria/reader #the mandalorian x reader

[gingerlurk]

Honey

Din Djarin x f!Reader

A Lovers' Crest one-shot (Here's its Masterlist)

Summary: You and the Mandalorian hatch a plan to trap an elusive bounty. And Din Djarin absolutely hates it. Until he doesn't.

[Or, the characters from Lovers' Crest have a little post-story adventure! Can be read standalone.]

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, pwp, unprotected piv (be safe), creampie, semi-public sex, (there's an unconscious guy in the room), established relationship, Din lifts you but damn he is a strong strong man, Reader described: wearing a dress, heels, having longish hair, does a lil pole dance. I know this isn't how a 'honey pot' situation works but oh well it's just a bit of fun.

A/N: What's this? It's the first fic I ever wrote. Posted to AO3 in June last year. No idea if it's anything anymore, but it dragged me out of a desperate writing slump - and led me to write the longer fic - so I will always feel affection for it.

--

‘No.’

‘Oh, come on!’

‘I said no!’

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t like it. It’s not a good idea.’

‘It’s a great idea. And… all we’ve got.’

So, Din Djarin sits in an upscale-style club sharing a table with Mythrol mobster Earl Gorstrik. 

The crime boss has been an elusive target for months, and a royal headache for Greef Karga. Taking out shipments of essentials, extorting construction projects and all manner of agency rackets, Gorstrik’s activities had pushed poor old Greef into upping the reward to nearly double.

‘Just get this fucker out of my business, please,’ Greef had begged him last time they’d dropped into town.

Then you had proposed an idea that had set his blood to boil, a constant roll that continued to this very moment. He’d remained unconvinced by the whole plan, but especially by your assertion that you would be sure to ‘really make it worth his while’. Din is dubious.

He doesn’t even get to have Grogu for company. This is not a child-friendly mission.

Gorstrik is yammering in his ear.

‘Seriously, Mando,’ he slurs. ‘I’m so glad a man of your calibre recognises the value of partnering with my… endeavours…’

Din is barely taking it in. Why are these types always so verbose? He mutters something about ‘needing to expand prospects’ and that sets the mob boss off to wax lyrical about property scams.

Din swears he’s going to ditch this whole, terrible attempt, when the music pounding in every corner of the place transitions to one of heavy bass and soaring synths.

Earl Gorstrik slaps at Din’s shoulder. ‘Oh excellent! It’s starting. Ever been to one of these Mando? No, bet not. Haha! Sit back and enjoy!’

Lights dance on the raised catwalk that dominates the middle of the room. Long, shiny polls descend from above, dropping within arm’s reach of the stage. A tall, lovely twi’lek female struts into view. Skin-tight body suit and stratospheric pumps. She reaches up to a poll and spins, smiling at the whooping and hollering rising from the patronage.

A short, sultry routine ends as the poll she holds rises back toward the ceiling. Din follows it, and her, up to spy the lofted gang plank that vanishes into an upper area.

Gorstrik leans into Din’s space.

‘You like that?’ he breathes. ‘Best part? If you spot someone you really like, you can arrange your own little meeting. Heh, up there,’ he points to the disappearing legs of the performer. ‘Just wave down a tender.’

Two human males saunter to neighbouring polls. They look to be twins. A stunning display of athleticism and strength concludes as they too rise upwards. Din spots several hands frantically waving at the establishment’s staff.

Fed up, Din is about to take his leave – to go find you – when a vision walks onto the stage and sucks all the air from his lungs. He’s locked rigid in his seat and his cock swells so fast it’s almost painful.

An adept lighting droid starts with revealing a pair of black, luxurious stilettos that step with languid grace down the catwalk. Silhouetted legs are shown to be bare as they curve up, all the way up – impossibly far – to the hem of a scant black dress. Deliciously tight and hugging every single curve.

Reaching the pole at the very end of the stage, the vision twists to face away from the crowd and is lit up all at once. The Mandalorian’s eyes are wide and his mouth has fallen open behind his helmet, made utterly transfixed by what he’s seeing onstage.

Glossy hair cascades over bare shoulders, swishing gently as you turn back to the crowd with a flourish. Your glittering eyes lock onto Din’s visor for a split second and he fair nearly blows his load then and there. 

You take hold of the pole and give a single lazy spin, letting Din’s eyes roam every inch of you. Then you slide down the pole some and spin again, extending your legs so the sides of your knees and shins skim the flooring. 

A few of these rotations before you tuck your long legs under you to stand for a moment. You make one swaying motion to put momentum into the pole and swing yourself up, using a turn away from the audience to open your legs, kick up and cross them to lock over the pole. 

With your lush thighs riding the cool metal, you lean back and extend an arm out to the audience, gazing upside down into the pulsing darkness.

You let the pole drift back to stillness, allowing every set of eyes in the place drink in your figure, bust heaving, hair falling below you and swaying. Then you swing your upper body upwards, grasp the pole and drop your hips so your legs release out into open air and propel it all into a renewed twist. 

After a moment, you plant your heels and the pole lowers with you as you sink into a narrow squat, facing away from the audience, which is by this time splitting the air with pitched screams and shouts.

You look over your shoulder with mischief in your eyes and the whole place goes ballistic.

The pole begins to rise and you move with it to stand. You let it slip along your figure, waiting until it is moving past your head to slide your arms around it and lift from the floor. It is given to look as if you’re floating on air, still twirling and giving an exquisite 360 view of your legs.

As you vanish into the loft, Din’s reverie is interrupted by a waving hand next to him.

He turns, Gorstrik is beside himself. A frenzy of other hands bat at the air, but Din’s table companion always gets first flush.

‘God damn,’ he exerts. ‘What a show. You do not get enough of that type of cream around here anymore.’

Din fights to quell the incredible urge to rip this pig’s head clean off his shoulders. He channels it all into issuing the slightest shrug he can manage. Gorstrik scoffs.

‘Suit yourself, man,’ he stands. ‘I’m getting my ass a front row seat to the encore. M’sorry, Mando you understand. Particulars can be worked out with my second here.’ He gives a vague wave to the pinch-faced twit next to him and scurries toward the elevator.

Din seethes.

Your voice crackles in his helmet, whisper quiet.

‘Staff access is on the residential side, basic hatch code to get in. Stairs, then make a left. My booth is second along.’

He makes a grouchy show of ‘only doing business with the actual boss’ before leaving the irate lieutenant at the table.

He stalks onto the street and rounds the building to the alleyway that connects the red-light district to the high-density worker housing. Spotting the door you described, he makes short work and slips inside. Climbing the stairs two at a time, he’s trying to concentrate and stop his mind wandering to all the ways this could go wrong.

Could be going wrong.

Why has he let you be alone with this scumbag. That was incredible. What if you’re not quick enough. Hells, fuck! Where had you learned that? What if… So fucking sexy. Why didn’t he just… Maker but that was incredible. He follows your directions and slaps the booth’s open panel.

The door slides across to reveal the scene. A small, velvet-lined room. One long bench against the far wall with a floor to ceiling one-way window looking out over the club floor. Your back is to the door and you’re settled in that narrow squat again, heels spiked into the floor, nimbly cuffing the unconscious Gorstrik, who is sprawled out by a drinks stand.

‘Just in time,’ you say. You peak over your shoulder at Din and slowly, agonisingly, start to rise up. Knees straighten first, keeping yourself bent at the waist. Ass on full display, the hem of your dress has ridden up to show just a hint of cheek. Finally, you lift your torso and turn toward him, something droll to say on the tip of your tongue.

You don’t get the chance. Din has kicked the door hatch closed and barrelled into you. Hands grip your waist first, pushing you back into the wall, then reach down to lift your knees to lock them at his sides. Holding you up, he paws at your ass.

‘Where’d you get this dress,’ he growls into your ear, letting you loop your arms across his shoulders and use the purchase to grind yourself against his erection.

‘Boutique in the main square,’ you mutter, eyes already closed and focused on lust. ‘Only used some of the advance.’

‘It’s obscene.’

‘Mmm, I don’t have to keep it.’ You rub the front of the dress against his chest plate, pushing your breasts into the firm pressure. ‘Could turn it to scrap for engine cleaning,’ you tease.

‘Absolutely not,’ he grinds out. He rubs at your thighs until the dress inches up, exposing your soaking panties. ‘This dress,’ he grunts. ‘This dress is for me now. You’ll wear it for me.’

‘Fuh—Fuck,’ you huff. ‘Thought you’d like it.’

‘Mmm, so fucking divine,’ he keens. He leans back a little. ‘Help me out here, love. Get this cock out for me.’

You reach a hand down and fumble with buckles and garment until you can push his pants low enough for his screaming hard on to bounce free. You immediately move your hand and tug the edge of your underwear aside.

‘Now Din,’ you moan, looking down. ‘Fuck me n— ah!’ He sheaths himself home in one go, piercing you to the wall. 

Hips sitting flush, Din trembles at your tight walls stretching and fluttering around him. He lets you adjust. ‘Oh fuck, so ready for me. That performance of yours get you just as worked up as me, did it?’

Humming an affirmative, you reach up to brace your elbows on top of each pauldron, locking your hands together behind his helmet and nuzzling your face into his neck. Like this, you can tilt your hips back and forth to grind into where you two are connected, his pelvis making a perfect surface to work at your aching clit.

It’s so goddamn sensual when you use him like this.

He holds onto your ass and helps you along by lifting you up with each one of your thrusts, creating a harsher connection each time. You writhe and work yourself against him, legs shaking with effort.

‘Din, Din,’ you lift your head with a gasp. He watches your eyes screw shut and your mouth fall open to release harsh, pained puffs of air. You’re so close, he can see it. You press your face into the sharp curve of his helmet and whisper, ‘Din, tell me t--’

‘Come for me, mesh’la,’ he snarls into your ear. ‘Do it, come now.’

You cry out and smack your head back against the wall. Din loses himself in your blissed out features. In the feel of your legs spasming around him, tightening muscles drawing aching throbs out of his cock. You push your hips in tiny little circles to suck down every drop of your climax. ‘That’s it, beautiful. That’s perfect,’ he murmurs to you. ‘You’re perfect.’ 

Huffing harsh breaths, you open your eyes and smile at him. 

He pulls out of you and takes your quivering legs from around his middle, dropping them to plant your heels on the floor. Then he pushes off the wall, spinning you to face the bench and bending you over. A heavy boot nudges at your ankles to spread them apart. He’s back inside you in one intense thrust of his cock.

This position affords you the view through the one-way window, so you’re both looking down at the bustling bar floor. 

Din begins to move, barely letting any room between your bodies as he grinds hard and deep. You shuffle your feet wider to give him even more. He chokes out a groan.

‘When you were on that stage,’ he hisses from behind, hands in a bruising grip on your hips. ‘Fuck, when you were up there, everyone down there wanted you.’ He sees your head turn to roam over the crowd, you look over your shoulder again at him, eyes unfocused and lustful.

‘Oh yeah?’ you say, hands sliding a little on the bench with your movements. ‘All of them?’

‘Every. Single. One.’ He punctuates each strangled word with a harsh, deep thrust. ‘Wishing they were here now. Wishing they could have you like this, know the feel of your clenching pussy. Sucking me in so hard, can- can barely pull myself- out…’   

He grips a fistful of your dress and uses the leverage to drag himself back before pistoning into you again. The obscene sounds of your slick flesh pumping against each other fill the air.

He’s so deep he can feel the pressure building within you again right as you slam your fingers hard against your clit, letting the friction of his furious thrusts carry you over the edge into another orgasm.

‘Fuuuuck,’ you both groan in unison. He loops an arm across your front and slings you up, back flush to his chest as he drives up into you. His rhythm is starting to falter, the haze of pleasure reaching toward unbearable. You know what he needs and how to bring him over the edge with you. He trusts.

‘But none of them can have me,’ you gasp. ‘Only you. Only you- know- this- pussy, Din.’ The final words are accompanied by the last few slams of his hips as he spills inside you with another strangled moan. He feels, as always, like his soul is being sucked from him and drained into you. It goes on for an age, wave on wave as you squeeze and clench around him. He finally slows.

His hand moves from your chest up to cup your face, fingers sifting through the hair at your shoulder.

As he huffs deep breaths into his helmet, you squeeze again and he gasps in near pain.

‘N-n, please mesh’la, you’re gonna kill me.’

‘Mm, sorry, thought you liked “the feel of my clenching pussy”.’

‘Oh I do, I do. Hope you let me feel it again when we’ve actually finished this job.’

‘Admit it was a great idea,’ you clench one last time and at that he withdraws from you. Groaning a raspy sigh. He turns to your captured prize.

‘Honey pot,’ he mutters. ‘Ridiculous.’

--

Din tucks himself away and bends to hoist the limp quarry over a shoulder, readying to exit. 

You adjust your dress, feeling delicious as Din’s seed slides past the hem. A job well executed and a fucking great time had by all. You grin to yourself. You’re going to walk down the street with this man’s spend slicking your thighs together. It’s filthy and you love it.

--

Thanks for reading! Have a great day and drink some water x

#din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you #the mandaloria/reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader

[xxchumanixx]

Matchmaker

The Mandalorian x reader

Summary: Greef Karga takes it upon himself to help two fools find their way together.

Warnings/Tags: hurt, fluff, comfort, mentions of character death, a little angst (but only if you squint), spoilers for season 3

Word count: 2.652

Authors note: Hello my loves! Just finished season three of The Mandalorian, and I can't help but write something for my beloved Din! Seriously, I love him so much.

Also, I somehow wrote this not in past tense, but present tense. Don't know how that happened, but I'm okay with it.

Enjoy!

"What's up with you?" Greef Karga speaks up, head tilted as he tries to analyze your face. Spurred by his words you sit straighter in the chair opposite his, hoping to mask what's on your mind from the clever man.

But he knows you, he knows the tell tale signs when somethings up with you, when somethings bothering you.

His eyebrows rise, and you sigh in defeat.

Of course you can't hide your feelings from him. Over the time you've known him now, he somehow became a father figure for you.

"Do you think he'll settle down, now that he has a home here on Nevarro?" you ask, even though you already know the answer. The likelihood of him settling down, is even smaller than him returning your feelings for him.

You love him, even if you've never seen his face before.

Greef snorts in amusement, sending you a smirk that says the same thing. Never would Din Djarin settle down - at least not in the near future.

"Why are you asking?" Greef questions, brows furrowed. "Are you hoping he'll stay with you?"

Eyes widening, you stare at the magistrate, who dares to chuckle at your reaction. "What?" he quips, smirking. "Do you think I haven't noticed the way you're looking at him?"

You're mouth opens to protest, but you can't manage to utter a single word. He's right, and he knows it too.

"Do you love him?" he wants to know more serious, leaning forward on the table between you. You choke on your breath, chuckling to cover up the uneasy feeling that's suddenly cursing through you.

You still though, sighing, before your head falls into your hands, elbows propped on the table. Wiping over your face you look at Greef, who patiently waits for your answer.

"I do." you reply, feeling the goosebumps creep up your bare arms. He nods, suspicions confirmed. "You haven't seen his face, yet." he points out, cocking a brow.

"Don't need to." you respond, shaking your head. "He could be a Gungan for all you know." he remarks, though grinning as you send him a pointed look.

"He once told me about the mandalorian marriage, how he would be able to remove his helmet in front of his wife." you explain, looking down on the table as your cheeks flush.

"Hit you pretty hard, huh?" he asks with a smile, but before you can answer someone speaks up from behind you, causing you to flinch in your seat.

"What hit whom?" Din wants to know, and you refuse to turn around, stiffening, as your cheeks go even more red.

Greef clears his throat, chuckling. "Oh, nothing, mando." he replies. "Just talkin' 'bout old times."

You are thankful for the older man's explanation, sending him a grateful look. He nods almost unnoticeable, before you stand up.

"I'm gonna go look for something to do." you tell them, briefly looking at Din, before your gaze averts again. Grogu stands behind him, cooing up at you.

"Oh, could you take him with you?" Greef asks, pointing at Grogu. "I want to discuss something with Din, that's not for the child's ears."

Din nods in approval, as you look at him questioningly.

Smiling down at the child you scoop him into your arms, before you leave the room.

Din looks after you and the child, even after the door has already closed behind you again. Greef clears his throat, averting his attention back to him.

"You want to discuss something with me?" Din wants to know, taking a seat where you had been sitting only moments ago.

He'd be lying if he said he wants a job - it had only been a few days since you landed on Nevarro again and settled into the cabin Greef had prepared for you three.

After the fight on Mandalore he is glad to have a break from the constant fighting and traveling.

He could tell you are too, finally being able to catch more than just an hour or two of sleep. The child is happier as well, being able to play with the local kids.

Greef folds his hands on the table, looking at Din with a sigh. Unbeknownst to the magistrate, he rises a brow under his helmet, looking at him expectantly.

"Do you plan on staying?" Greef asks, looking straight at where he believes Din's eyes must be. Din tilts his head, not sure what his friend is getting at.

"Maybe, why?" he gives back warily, brows furrowing. Greef only nods, leaning back in his chair. "And what about her?" he questions further, eyes still fixed on the warrior in front of him. Din licks his lip, feeling his heart rate pick up at the mention of you.

He'd love for you to stay with him, but he'd never make a move on it. You were too precious to him, for him ruining you.

"What do you mean?" he wants to know, leather creaking quietly, as his hands flex in a nervous manner. Greef huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "You know exactly what I mean, Din."

Din sighs, looking away. He in fact knows what the older man is hinting at, yet he tries to play dumb.

"I don't know what you mean."

Greef rolls his eyes, frustration seeping through, as he silently curses at the mandalorian. "Do you love her?" he asks him the same question he had asked you earlier.

Din's eyes widen under his helmet, as he believes he must have misheard him. "I have to go." he mutters, pushing himself out of the chair. "Do you love her?" Greef repeats louder, and Din stiffens, back turned towards him.

"'Cause if you do, you should tell her."

Din can't help but huff at his words, turning back around to him. "And why should I do that?" he demands to know, taking a step closer. "So she takes the first ship to another planet?"

"Because she loves you!" Greef responds angrily, standing from his chair. "Because she loves you and she asked me the same question earlier - Asked if you would stay, or if you'd leave her behind."

Din is taken aback by his words, body freezing.

His heart goes rigid in his chest, hands sweating, but he stays still. "She doesn't know me." he mutters, shaking his head. "She doesn't know your face." Greef responds. "There's a difference."

Din swallows, wiping his hands on his thighs, even though he wears gloves.

"She told me about the mandalorian marriage." Greef explains, licking his lip. "Said that you'd be able to take the helmet off in front of your wife."

Din winces, shaking his head again.

"She wouldn't want me." he insists, looking down. "Are you sure about that?" Greef responds, causing Din's heart to jump dangerously at the prospect. "She said she doesn't need to see your face to love you."

Din breathes in shakily, biting his lip, before his gaze meets his friends. Greef nods encouragingly, silently telling him to finally make a move on his feelings.

You are important to him, and he can tell that you are struggling with your feelings for Din. Pushing you two in the right direction is the least he could do for you.

Meanwhile, you are sitting with the child in between a group of kids. They had spotted you, asking if Grogu could play with them, and invited you to sit with them.

Din neares the group, already having spotted you due to the height difference - not because you seem to radiate under the sun, glowing like a goddess to him.

Of course not.

He stops behind you, taking a moment to watch the child jump on the numbers the kids had scribbled on the ground with chalk.

It looks like something out of a book, he notices. The peaceful and calm atmosphere seems strange to him.

Clearing his throat, he gets your attention, motioning for you to follow him with a tilt of his helmet. Asking the kids to look after Grogu, you stand up, following him.

He walks a few feet away, only stopping when no one's in earshot anymore.

"I'm thinking about staying." he begins, after a short silence. You nod, brows furrowing slightly. "How come?" you ask. He takes a moment longer to answer, gaze wandering behind you to the kids still playing with Grogu, before he looks back at you.

"Mandalore is still in reconstruction, and we will have to stay somewhere in the meantime." he explains, your heart picking up its pace at his choice of words. "We?" you ask, hope flaming up in your chest.

Would he stay with you, or let you stay with him, now that Mandalore is going to be rebuilt?

You had been spending time with the mandalorian for almost the whole while he was traveling with Grogu now, but never really had a place to stay at.

Except for Nevarro now.

"Grogu and I." he responds, and your heart cracks as he extinguishes the flame, before it had really become one.

Your face falls and you do your best not to let him notice, as you force yourself to smile, nodding with tears pricking in your eyes.

"Sure." you mumble, biting your lip, as you look down.

"And you if you want to."

You're heart stops at his words, gaze snapping back to his.

He swallows, heart racing in his chest. He's nervous, hands sweating in his gloves, as he tries to study your reaction.

"Really?" you want to know, fearing he'd take it back. But he nods, taking a step closer. "I talked to Greef." he admits, tilting his head.

You huff, now knowing why he came up with the topic in the first place.

"Of course, you have." you mumble, looking away from him. How much did Greef tell him? You should have known something was up, when he asked you to take the child with you.

He makes a sound like he wants to say something, but it gets stuck in his throat. "I like you." he then presses out, fists clenching at his sides.

He hates to talk about his feelings, never really having been good at it.

Your heart jumps, breath hitching in your throat as you look back at him. "I like you and I want you to stay with us." he adds, voice shaky even through the modulator.

You're not sure what exactly he means, goosebumps covering your arms at the prospect. "What do you mean you like me?" you ask, swallowing at the nerves bubbling up.

He sighs, helmet tilting downwards. "I mean that-" he sighs again in frustration, arms moving at his sides, as he seems to fight with himself, before he looks back up at you. "I mean that I have feelings for you, Y/N."

Your heart stutters in your chest, before it doubles its speed. Blinking rapidly, you try to process his words.

"I-I have feelings for you, too." you stutter, taking a step towards him. He inhales shakily, relief flooding him.

No matter what Greef had told him about your feelings for him, he still could have been wrong.

The relief momentarily blocks out the fear he's feeling, but it returns just as fast as it was gone.

"But I'm scared, cyar'ika." he voices, not giving you a chance to respond further, heart fluttering at the endearment. You had only heard it once before, and you were sure it meant something special.

"I don't want to bring you in harms way even further, because you'd be my weak spot."

You blush, still shocked at his confession.

"But the child is a weak spot, too." you remind him quietly, tilting your head as your brows furrow slightly.

"I don't want to end up like Paz." he whispers, voice cracking. "And another weak spot would only add to that possibility. When something happens to me you'd be left on your own. When something happens to you or the child-" he shakes his head, swallowing.

"I wouldn't know what to do."

You take another step closer, hand finding its way onto his arm, trying to comfort him. "Din, that won't happen." you assure him, trying to catch his gaze through the helmet.

"Paz had a son." he arguments, shaking his head at you. "His son lost his father." "He was a foundling." you retort, still feeling bad for the boy. "He'll learn to live without him, he still has a family: the other mandalorians."

Paz was a good man, he had sacrificed himself for his people, leaving behind his son.

"And what's with my wife, Grogu, kids of my own?" he questions. He's agitated, body trembling at the thought of disappointing you.

Your eyes widen at his words.

His wife, kids of his own.

He seems to notice what he said, a gasp leaving his lips, as his eyes widen as well. "I-I mean-" he stutters, panic creeping into his voice, but you smile at him.

"Din, you don't have to keep doing the dirty work for the rest of your life." you give back softly, silently hating that you can't see his eyes.

He snorts, taking a step back, so your hand falls from his arm. "And credits come flowing, sure."

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. "We will find something that's less dangerous. Aside from that I'm sure Mandalore will have a place for us, a job. We'd manage."

"You're saying that like it would all be so easy for us." he gives back, shaking his head as well. You nod, licking your lip. "I know it's not always going to be easy, but I'm sure we'll manage." you repeat, closing the distance again.

He falls silent at that, only staring at you.

He can't seem to grasp why you were willing to spend your life with him - a mandalorian, someone who's made more enemies than he can possibly count.

"And now let's get back to the point where you told me you have feelings for me." you rasp out, taking your hand in his.

His hand tightens around yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles as he exhales shakily.

"Do you know how long I hoped for you to say those words?" you chuckle, smiling up at him. He huffs, shaking his head with a chuckle of his own.

"I was sure you wouldn't want me." he breathes out, licking his lip. You huff, smile widening. "You have no clue, Din." you tell him. "And even if I don't know what you look like yet, I'm sure I will love it as well. It's not only your face, Din. It's you - everything about you, the way you care for the ones you love and how you do everything to protect them. It's you I love, not only the face I have yet to see. And if I have to marry you to see your face, I can't wait."

He's stunned at your words, mouth agape even though you can't see it.

He's never heard such beautiful words directed at him before. Hearing them come out of your mouth, only makes them more beautiful.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum." he mutters, his voice soft. You tilt your head at him, not sure what he said. "It's mando'a." he says, and you swear you hear him smile under his helmet. "It means I love you."

You inhale sharply, eyes widening, and he wonders if he took it too far. "It sounds so beautiful." you reply, smiling broadly at him. He sighs in relief, smile returning.

"Ni kartayl gar darasum." you try to repeat it and he laughs, lightly shoving you at the way you mispronounce the words.

"We'll practice that." he assures you chuckling, wrapping his arm around you, to lead you back to the kids.

"For now let's focus on marrying so you can finally see my face."

cyar'ika: sweetheart

#the mandalorian #the mandaloria/reader #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x u #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

[neo-nomatrix]

She’s a princess, and you’re a Mandalorian

That’s something no amount of potion will ever change

Din Djarin x reader

summary: A princess has fallen in love with a mandalorian, and he can’t seem to figure out why

a/n: reader is from the made up kingdom of Avana

word count: 824

Mandalorians do not love, it’s simply a fact. If someone so happens to fall in love with one it would never be a princess.

You met Din Djarin when he crashed outside of the grounds of your kingdom. Villagers who lived near the gates of Avana soon started to talk about the mysterious ship that landed in the forest.

“Princess! Have you heard?” One of your mothers advisors asked.

“Heard what?”

“The ship that crashed outside, near the forest,” she said.

“Is anyone going to help?” You wonder.

“Technically, it’s not our grounds, so we don’t have to,” she finished before getting back to her papers.

How could they do that? Just leave someone, presumably helpless all on their own? You honestly thought it was horrible how they decided to just look the other way. You decided to take the matter and do something about it.

You packed a small bag with food, water, first aid, and a small dagger just in case. As you approach the ship you can tell it’s been through a lot of damage. Half of it is lodged into the ground with plenty of scratches and marks to prove its been through hell and back.

You enter through the small opening on the side of the ship, prying open the metal.

“Maker,” you whisper to yourself as you take in your surroundings.

“Hello!” Your voice echoes through the ship, yet no response.

You search through each room until you reach the cockpit. You glide your hands on the panels and intricate details of the room. Your hand grazes over a leaver that’s clearly had the top screwed off, wondering how that would even happen.

You halt in your steps as you feel the front of a blaster pressed against your head. Your shaky hands are lifted in the air as you slowly turn around.

“Who are you?” A gruff, muffled voice says, less of a question and more of a demand.

“I just want to help you,” You say, slightly scared.

“Answer the question.”

“I’m the princess of the kingdom who’s gates you’ve crashed in front of,” You say slightly aggressively.

“We have mechanics, we can fix your ship,” you mention.

“They sent a princess to look at a shipwreck? Without backup? I’m doubtful,” He says, finally putting down his blaster.

Dank Farrick, he’s got a hot voice.

“You can trust me okay? If you do, you're more than welcome to stay in the castle. Have a bed, a warm meal,” you offer.

“What’s the catch?” He wonders.

“You have to talk to me. Have dinner with me, I swear you’ll enjoy it,” you promise.

He starts to wonder why you’re acting like this. Why you’re treating a stranger with such kindness.

“Fine,” he relents.

_

You send mechanics out to the wreck and you bring the man to your castle.

“It’s breathtaking don’t you think?” You ask him as you sit down at the table, pointing out the paintings on the ceiling.

“Quite,” he murmurs.

“What are you?” You ask, taking a spoonful of soup.

“I’m a mandalorian. I’m afraid I can’t take off my helmet to eat,” he admits.

“Oh that’s alright, I don’t mind.”

“Why are you doing this? I haven’t done anything to spark your kindness, so why?” He asks.

“I don’t know why, but I seem to have taken a liking to you. One that I cannot explain. But it’s a feeling I've had since we first met,” you smile.

Love. That feeling is love. You and the mandalorian both know it.

“What will it take for me to see your face?”

“We would need to be bonded by blood.” He says.

“Hm, interesting,” you say, eating more of your soup.

“I still don’t understand. You’re a princess, I am not the kind of person you should be taking a liking to.”

“Are you saying you don’t like me?” You wonder.

“No, I’m not saying that. I’m saying you shouldn’t like me.” He says.

“But I do! I really do. And, once your ship is fixed, I’d like to go with you wherever you’re going. I know that’s a lot to say but I think it would be nice.”

“It’s dangerous. It’s not the kind of place for someone like you. There would be a point that I won’t be able to protect you. And that’s something I'm not willing to do,” he admits.

“I know you might not believe it but I don’t need protection. I do just fine on my own,” You say, but you know he’s still not convinced.

The back and forth goes on between the two of you before he reaches a decision.

“If I take, and I mean if, you do whatever I say, when I say it. No questions, you just do it. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” you respond.

Din still doesn’t understand why you like, maybe even love him so much, but he definitely isn’t complaining.

#pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x reader smut #pedro pascal x reader #the mandaloria/reader #the mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #star wars x reader

[abbonation]

Kinktober Day #9, Din Djarin

WOOOOOO!!!! The largely uninspired Abbo returns with a 2.3k cockwarming fic 😍😍 literally unheard of! Any whoosies, yeah. It's hot, it's explicit, what else do we want from Kinktober, anyway?

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY!!! Cockwarming, AFAB!Fem!Reader with little (Or a lot ;) of chub <3) the crest DIDN'T DIE,

He had tried to restrain himself, he really had, but when he watched your eyes as you lowered your robes down your shoulders and onto the cold floor of his ship, he knew this wouldn’t last long.

You’d traveled in the Crest with him while he was without Grogu and then became somewhat of a caretaker to him when he returned from training with Luke. You had seen the very near destruction of Crest on Tython and, now, you were all back together again; living and traveling through space on the never-ending journey that was his life. 

Through the nearly two years of close proximity, you had grown close. He knew your quirks and you had grown accustomed to his- and, despite his best efforts, he had developed rather intense feelings for you. Never acted upon, never spoken of but you had to know. By the way your look lingered on him both in and out of battle. By the way your head turned when he talked with others, it felt like you were two magnets hovering against the others’ pull, never close enough to click together.

Then, you encountered a beast that the local planet-dwellers later told you was called a Boma. He knew you shouldn’t have gone separately but he really needed some time to be alone and splitting up under the guise of catching your quarry faster would allow him time to do what he needed to keep his sanity. You agreed to meet back at the Crest before sundown and use the comms only when necessary to conserve their power- however, when he hadn’t heard from you and started to notice the darkening sky, he worried. 

“Hey- you okay? On your way to the Crest yet?” 

"—"

After a few moments of silence, he tries again, “Are you there? It’s gonna be really dark here really soon.” 

A shrill scratching sound chirps through the speaker on the comm and, instantly, he knows he needs to find you. When he does though, after racing back to the Crest and turning around to follow your trail instead of his, it’s been nearly an hour and he finds you walking towards him, pulling behind you a creature nearly the size of yourself.

He jogs over shouting, “What the hell happened to you?”

“Well, I guess I can tell you the whole tale. If you’ll carry this thing the rest of the way,” You smile and shrug up at him and he feels his stomach clench as he realizes just how anxious he’d been to find you, and how much better he feels now that you’re here.

-

“So it just ran up to your legs, smelled your cape, and started attacking?”

“That’s what I said, right?” You deadpan. 

“Why would it wait to attack you until it could smell you?” 

“Mando, I don’t know, can we just get some food and get back to the ship, my ankle fucking hurts from where I fell.”

In the small town is where you learned of the nature of these “Boma” . They were just your run of the mill beast, but apparently they had a real liking for eating Mandalorians. 

“Well, at least I know it wasn’t my stench that he didn’t like,” you joked to him over your dinner. 

“We’d better get back though, I’m… really tired.” You had this look in your eye though. One like you weren’t very tired at all. One like how you look right after battle.

So you thanked the bartender and made your way back to the Crest, confirming Grogu’s safety in his pram and fixing a couple glasses of Ne'tra gal for you and your Mando. He swallowed and tried to shove down the one thought in his brain since dinner. You smelled like him. 

“Thanks for trying to save me. Even if I didn’t need your help.” You hand over his glass and sit on a crate across from him in the hold. 

“I just didn’t hear you respond to my comm, I was worried,” He looks at the bottom of his cup. 

“Yeah well, this bad boy here had my back,” You lightly tap your thigh a couple times where your knife sheath lies and his eyes zero in on the spot as he moves up his helm slightly to sip. 

“I- know you can handle yourself. I just-” He trails off. 

“You just what?”

“.. I just want you to be- protected.. From everything.”

You smile gently at his visor and he can feel his cheeks heating at your stare. 

“You know that’s not possible, Din.” 

He wishes he could show you the power you hold over him. He has to look away from your eyes when you say his name. 

“Have I,” You swallow and steel yourself, “Have I ever shown you any of my scars, Mando?”

He looks up again, your face looks different now. You look more.. hungry?

The ale in your blood and food in your belly fuels your courage and you stand from your crate, walking over to stand in front of the Mandalorian. You place your hands on his shoulders and bend your knee up and place your foot on the ledge of the crate he sits on, inches from where his dick is imprinted into the fabric of his flight suit. 

He says your name and looks up at your face, “I- what are you-”

“Do you want to see, Din?”

He realizes then, you feel it too. He’s been so blind and his head swims at the confirmation of this.

“Yes, show me.. please,” He places a gloved hand at your ankle under the hem of your robe and begins moving it up your calf. 

You press on his shoulder to stop his hand and raise the hem of your robes up to right above your knee, down the skin right in front of his visor runs a jagged line of skin thicker than the rest. 

“This one I received when I killed a man who was trying to stop me from leaving his bed.” Din swallows and looks at your face, he’s speechless.

You move your hands to pull the hem higher and stop again, right above your knife sheath, so that the fabric is caught in the crux where your thigh meets your hip and is tucked under your belly. 

“These are from a cat on my home planet,” What looks like little claw marks blossom from the side of your thigh. He moves his thumb up to brush over them, and you smile at the memory of your friend from home. 

“And, Din,” You step down from the crate and stand between his open legs. He’s aching to touch you now. Running his palms up and down his thighs to avoid doing something he’d regret. You move your fingers up to the buttons at your neck that fasten the robe to your body and unbutton each one carefully, taking deep breaths, “These will be a different type of scar. Ones on the inside, ones I won’t soon forget.” You drop your robe to reveal your body to him, your underwear the only remaining coverage. Din sucks in an audible breath from the vocoder and stands from his spot. 

He chokes out your name, backing you over to the wall next to his sleeping quarters. “Do you know what you’re doing? Do you want this? If we do this, things will be different.”

“I know that- I want them to be,” You lean up to whisper into his ear. “You think I can’t hear you in your bed nearly every night. Rubbing yourself raw at the thought of me- of this?” You place your hand where his thighs join and he buckles, dropping his helmet down to your own shoulder and thrusting his hips into your palm. You reach your other hand from where it toys with the curls that peek out from under his helmet to cup his ass, pushing his hips forward into you. 

“Please,” He moans. 

You turn to his bed and pull yourself inside, moving backward into the dark space. “You liked that the creature smelled you on me, huh?” You chide him. He stands at the threshold as if deciding whether to make the leap. To change his life forever. 

“You wanted to come save me from it yourself so something would know I belong to you, right?” He leans forward into his room, hands resting on the top wall, tent in his pants more than obvious now. 

“Or were you just too busy jacking that cock in the forest to notice anything?” 

The choice is out of his hands now, he’s not acting of his own volition. He kicks off his boots and crawls in above you, quickly closing the door and locking you both into silent darkness. 

When he continues to say nothing even as you hear the ruffling of clothes and sheets as he arranges himself you whisper out, “Din?” 

From mere inches above you, you feel his breath fan down on your face and realize he’s removed his helmet, his hand moves over your belly, between the space where your breasts splay out and up to cup your throat. “Yes?”

You shudder at his unfiltered speech. “Do you- are you-” Suddenly you’re the one at a loss for words when he leans his forehead to rest on yours, and runs the hand that was holding you down your side to your thigh. 

“I did like that you smelled like me. I really liked it.” He punctuates his words with a thrust into your belly. 

“I want to lay you in this bed and fuck you every day so that you never stop smelling like me.” Another thrust. “Would you like that, sweet girl? Would you like to lay here and be my cock sleeve? Just for me to use whenever I want?” You’ve never heard someone speak to you like this, much less the ever-reserved Mandalorian, you’re shocked into silence by his tongue and he continues. 

He moves your legs to open for him and you reach down to stroke over his thighs where he kneels above you. He groans at your touch, “So sensitive, Din. C’mere.” He moves down to lay his lips on yours, he gets more comfortable the longer you lick and nip at each other, and he keens when you run your hands up over his scalp and give his hair a very light tug, 

“Oh, please, do that again, mesh’la,” You continue running your fingers through his hair and move to lick up the column up his throat. His noises are free-flowing now, heavy breathing floating through the air in his bunk. 

He lifts his head to make room between you and presses his crotch into your clothed pussy. You can feel your arousal making your underwear slick against your entrance, and clench to thrust up against his stiff dick. 

“Fuck, that's- that’s perfect, sweet girl.” He does it again, setting you into a rhythm of humping while he rubs over your tits, rubbing your nipples between his fingers when you show him that’s what you like. 

“Fuck Din, you feel so good,” You moan out to him and his hips stutter, “I’ll cum if we don’t stop, I- want you to feel good too-” So you slow your movements and move to push down your underwear, “Take off your pants Din, we’re gonna start slow, okay?” 

You maneuver to be on top and line his cock up at your puffy entrance. “Do you feel that, Din? How, mmm, how wet you’ve made me?” 

“Y-yes, I’m so hard for you,” He moans out. 

You rub your clit with his tip a few times and notch his head just inside “I don’t wanna come yet-” he huffs into your ear.

“You won’t, I’m gonna slip down and then we’re gonna get you used to me, okay?” 

A deep rumble leaves him when you start to slide down his thick length, stopping when your clit rubs into his pubic hair. “Jesus, Din- you’re.. fuckin’ big” You flutter around him unintentionally and he thrusts against you, holding onto your lush hips. 

You lay down over him and he roves his hands over your back, resting one against the back of your head and the other ghosting over your ass. 

“Can we just stay like this for a minute?” He asks.

“We can do this as long as you need,” You tell him, reveling in the way his pubic bone bumps against the hood of your clit. He stretches your walls deep, which you can’t say you didn’t expect- but to know you were right feels good. You sit up some when he pulls his feet up the cot, giving you room to lean back against the top of his thighs, and, with him still inside you ghost your fingers down over your breasts and belly to tease over your cunt. 

“Are you touching yourself?” Din questions. 

You clench at his voice, “Yes, Din. I’m– gonna rub my clit until I come around your cock and then you’re gonna come too, okay?” Your voice is much more high pitched and your usual level-headedness has obviously gone.

“Fuck, I wish I could see you, your tits bouncing in my face,” you feel his cock twitch inside you and rub two fingers around your clit, working up speed. 

“You wanna watch my face when I cum, huh, Din? Wanna see me give in to your pleasure?” 

“Ngh fuck yes, that's all I want, my sweet girl, my mesh’la.” He’s grasping at the sheets of his cot now, desperately thrusting up into your cunt. 

“Mm, fuck, are you ready?” You whine out as you feel your walls start to flutter from the stimulation, “Are you ready to come for me, sweet boy?” 

“Oh fuuuck, yes I’m gonna- I’m-” And he does. He pushes your hips down onto his cock to keep you still as he empties inside you, limply thrusting for another few seconds as you come down. 

You move to get off his cock and he holds you still again, so you opt to just lay back down on his chest resting your face next to his. 

“Can we just.. stay like this for a while?” You can hear the smile in his question. 

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x reader smut #din djarin one shot #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandaloria/reader #one shot #kinktober #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #x reader fanfic #reader insert #plus size reader #chubby reader #spankbank

[davosmymaster]

Hope, Confessions

TAGS AND WARNINGS -  +18, Minors DNI (more like minors don’t read), smut, masturbation, p in v, light choking, creampie (wrap it before you tap it), more like making love, love-struck Din, marriage proposal (kinda), angst, hurt/comfort, reader is heavily implied to be shorter than Din. My lack of star wars knowledge is also a warning. I wrote this right after finishing season 2. This fic happens right after Grogu leaves. Talks of cheating if you squint.

PAIRINGS - Din Djarin x fem!reader

WORD COUNT - 4.6k

SUMMARY - Din lost everything that day. Well, almost everything. He still has you to keep him sane, to keep him from giving up on everything he once was. (or Din tries to return his beskar to the Mandalorians but you won’t let him.)

English is not my first language

 The continuous growl of the engine was both what lulled you to sleep and woke you up that day. Still half unconscious, in that dreamy, sweet and comfortable state when you're neither awake or asleep; your hand stretches over the mattress looking for heat, for that silky skin where your head rests over most nights and the heartbeat under. Far from finding what your subconscious is looking for, your eyes open when you notice the cold sheets on Din's side of the bed.

 Despite having your eyes open, you still see nothing.

 "Din?"

There's no response, and having made sure he is not in the room with you; you take your sleep mask off. The room is as dark as usual. Small, narrow, cramped with things you fail to find a purpose for. When you had first been in his room, he hardly had a makeshift bed on the floor. It was, above all, an uncomfortable mattress with loud springs and a blanket. The next day, after you had shared your first night together, he had replaced it with a proper bed with a base and sheets. Your own bed has been long forgotten since then.

 You get your cargo pants from the floor and put them back on, deciding to check on him. Worry tugs at your heart while you remember the last few days; and it is even worse when, by pure muscle memory, your legs bring you to the corner where Grogu's hovering pram used to be, just outside Din's room. The kid's not there anymore, and you hardly doubt he will ever be again. If your heart is broken just by the sight, you can't even begin to imagine what it is like for Din. Not after all you both did to get him back to safety.

 Something flashes in the corners of your vision, then. And you follow it, finding his armor and helmet gently rearranged on the floor. There's a folded blanket underneath as if he didn't want the beskar to be in contact with the metallic ground of the ship. Crouching down, you take his helmet in your hands and close your eyes, shaking your head.

 "You idiot..." you whisper. "You should have come to me..."

 There's no need for him to suffer in silence the way he does. Why would he torture himself that way?

 The coldness of the beskar is something you are used to, but carrying Din's helmet in your hands fills you with a type of dread you're not sure you can explain, not even to yourself. He had always been so adamant about it, not wanting to risk it even when you two were in bed.

 The first time he had taken it off around you, he had blindfolded you with your own shirt. He had been drooling to have a taste of your lips. From then on, you had used different things to cover your eyes, all so you could sleep next to him, calm his anxious dreams and simply stay.

 But that was back when Grogu lived in the razor crest. There was a time when you couldn't begin to fathom the idea of Din without Grogu by his side, and still couldn't. But now things are different, vastly different. And as Grogu's presence isn't there anymore and you are now carrying Din's helmet —the two things that make Din who he truly is— you wonder what man you'll find once you enter that cockpit.

 "Mando?"

 He's sitting in his usual place, in front of the controls, fumbling with buttons and levers. From where you stood, you can have a peek at his brown hair and the skin on the back of his neck. Despite all the efforts he had done at the beginning, this isn't the first time you see him without the helmet.

 "Mando," you insist.

 He doesn't respond, stubborn like only he can be. He doesn't respond for the very same reason that he left his armor and helmet in the hallway; he doesn't believe himself to be a Mandalorian anymore.

 "Din..." you whisper.

 There's a creaking sound as the chair turns on itself, and before you have the whole sight of his face, you close your eyes and cover them with your hand. The other, stretching in his direction, offers him the helmet.

 He doesn't take it.

 "You can uncover your eyes, mesh'la."

 You shake your head.

 "Not until you put it back on."

 He sighs in your direction.

 "There's no need for it..." he says, the sorrow coming from his lips tastes bittersweet. Not having to wear the helmet is a relief, in a way, but a curse once you know what it entails. "I'm not a Mandalorian anymore."

 You don't know what to say, don't know what to do, either. Your figure stays there, unseeing and frozen for a few seconds. You still don't give up.

 "This is a non-negotiable, Din."

 He waits, hoping you will give up at some point; but you don't. Beskar, especially the amount of it needed to make a Mandalorian helmet, weighs a lot and your arm begins to tremble from the effort of holding it in his direction. You had never regretted more having artificial gravity.

 "Okay..." he whispers, then takes the helmet and you wait for him to give you a sign. "Done."

 You open your eyes, but the sight is not at all what you had expected. You should have known better than to just blindly follow his command. You should have listened for the modulator.

 A pair of brown eyes stare at you, full of concealed grief. The helmet gently cradled on his lap. He is only wearing his black flight suit, which allows him a kind of movement that his beskar armour doesn't always allow. For example, one of his legs is crossed under the other now. And he seems almost... relaxed. Despite having told him repeatedly how much you wanted him not to be so stressed, constantly looking for jobs to get done and credits to take, the odd mixture of calmness and despair just concerns you further. If that's even possible.

 "You..."

 "Told you," he says. "Not a Mandalorian anymore."

 You are angry. Want to be angry at him for lying and forcing you to look at his face. But you find yourself unable to express that rage, not against him, at least; not when he looks like a kicked puppy. The man in front of you is a version of Din that you never thought you'd encounter. Therefore, he is a Din that you don't quite know how to handle.

 You want to be there for him, though.

 In no time, your fingers are brushing his patchy beard in the gentlest way possible. At first, his big brown eyes are stuck in yours; and even though he is sitting and you are standing, the height difference is still noticeable because his eyes and yours are not that far apart. Din looks at you in that specific way, the way he only does when he thinks you're not aware of his presence. With so much longing in those dilatating pupils.

 His eyelids drop, revelling in your touch. But the moment is short-lived, as in the same exact moment his shoulders relax, he grabs your wrist and pulls it away.

 "You should buckle up," he says. "We're leaving hyperspace soon."

 "Where are we going?"

 Not before putting the helmet down, Din swivels the chair back to the controls. It is obvious that he is simply ignoring you, because all he does is look through the glass into the endless void. He taps a button or two trying to distract himself, but he's not really doing anything.

 "Din, where are we going?" you ask him again, your hand now gripping his shoulder.

 "I'm not a Mandalorian," he repeats. And at this point, you start to wonder if he is trying to convince himself or he is this deeply traumatized from betraying his creed. "Beskar belongs to the Mandalorians. I'm gonna hand over all the beskar I have."

 "What?!"

 The sound that comes from your mouth is half a shout half a whisper. Soon, you're turning the chair back in your direction, your body bent over your middle and your hands gripping both armrests tightly. You look into his eyes for any sign of mocking, but your Mandalorian has never been the pranking type.

 "Please, Din..." you almost beg. "Tell me you're joking."

 His jaw clenches. Hard. His eyes swim to somewhere behind you, far away from there, trying to distance himself from you emotionally and mentally as he cannot do it physically. But his eyes still well with tears.

 You've never seen him cry for obvious reasons. And the sight clouds your mind. It sends a blaster shot through the middle of your chest. You pray to the maker that he won't let those tears spill, because you don't think you'll manage not to break if he does.

 "You can't," you tell him. "Din, you can't. It's your armor, your helmet. No one else should ever have it."

 A muscle in his jaw ticks. He's clenching his teeth so hard that you can't help but think that it has to hurt. Your palms quickly find the edges of his face, and your thumbs gently massage the skin there, trying to soften his grip with gentle circles. You see him try to take a deep breath, but it is then that he breaks.

 A sound, like that of a hurt animal, rips through his chest. His forehead quickly falls forward, trying to hide his tears. In a second, your arms find their home around his broad shoulders while he lets a few tears slip into your shirt. He sobs into your collarbone. Inconsolable.

 "It's okay, baby," you still try. "Let it all out."

 You caress his back ripped by the earthquakes his tears cause. At some point, one of your hands travels to the back of his head and they get knotted in the short hair there. It takes him a while, but he eventually slips into that kind of numbness that follows the tears.

 When he's done, you don't dare to get too far away from him. You take a seat next to him, on the chair Grogu used to occupy, and take his hands in yours giving a gentle squeeze.

 "I miss him," he says, as if he could read your mind.

 You nod, wiping the wetness from your face too. There's not much you can say about the matter. There's no other way in which you could express, those three words are enough.

 "Me too."

 Rather than lecturing him, telling him once again how necessary it was that Grogu trained with a real jedi, you just accompany him through the sadness. Anything you could ever say, he already knows. Feelings are not logical. His heart doesn't understand that the kid is safe and sound, happy, training to expand his control on the Force. His eyes don't see that. All he sees is the absence, the lack of that part of him that he unknowingly gave to his child, the very same part of him the kid took with him and now he is missing. Like a table with three legs or a ship without an engine or a medkit without bacta.

 "Din, you can't give your helmet and armor away," you try again.

 He shakes his head, the curls of his brown hair waving in the air. His eyes are fixed on your fingers while he plays with them, caressing them, drawing circles over your palm, tracing the lines that supposedly form your future.

 "This all has to do with you taking your helmet off in front of those people, right?" you ask him, although there's a fear in your chest that it could be another reason. "Or is it because... of me?"

 His neck snaps in your direction in front of him. He is breathless when he asks.

 "What?"

 "Is it because I saw your face first?" you ask him, needles pricking your lungs as you ask. "Those times... I'm sorry if I- insulted your faith... I-"

 "No," he responds in a thready voice. His palms land on your knees and he squeezes, trying to comfort your shivering form "Of course not. How could you say that? No, you didn't insult anything. It's okay."

 The weight that lifts from your shoulders is heavy, so heavy that you can't help but let out a sigh of relief.

 "I'm sorry I never told you before," he says then, and you quickly get your hands off of your face to look at him. "I never knew how. I kept trying to find a way to explain it, but I didn't know how."

 Your face twists into a confused grimace.

 "Din... what are you talking about?"

 He takes a steadying breath and decides to just say it.

 "I consider you to be my riduur," he says, shielding himself in the fact that you don't know what that word means in Mando'a. "That's why I can- could take my helmet off around you. It's okay. That's allowed."

 You frown at the strange word.

 "What is that?"

 He swallows the lump in his throat. Even after all of this time, he's still terrified of getting rejected. The pain that causes him the fact that you might not want him to the same extent that he wants you is killing him. It would kill him, that's certain, if you would confirm his suspicions right now. With no kid and no identity, he doesn't want to think about the possibility of losing you too.

 For a second, he considers lying. But doing that would mean the complete obliteration of your trust and his own mind.

 "It means partner..." he says. And your body goes stiff for a second, but he cannot stop there. "As in... husband, wife..."

 He watches you attentively, like a mere witness to a terrible accident; knowing that whatever happens now is solely his fault. But, at the same time, knowing he has no power over your actions and feelings.

 Din watches you blink repeatedly. Your jaw falls from its hinges, lips lightly parted. Even now, he wants to kiss you. He always wants to kiss you.

 "And... you consider me your riduur?"

 He nods for a moment, liquid chocolate dances around in his eyes. Melting. Warm. And you can't help but think that he is so handsome. With that silky patchy beard, and the small heart the lack of hair forms next to his chin. It's like he was born to be hugged by your arms, and kissed by your lips.

 "Yes," he insists. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. "But I should've asked you before-"

 You interrupt him.

 "Are you telling me that the first time you showed me your face..." you start, your mind coming back to that night when he lazily made love to you, allowed you to kiss every inch of his face, tug from his hair until he moaned. "...are you telling me that was you accepting me as... your wife?"

 He wants to say something, anything, but the words don't come. His mind is also lost in that night, in the way your face lit up when you saw him for the first time, how you complained that he was so handsome and it was so unfair for the galaxy to have that pretty face covered. Just to make up your mind a split second later and happily realize you were the only one who he would grant that sight to.

 He doesn't say anything, but doesn't have to.

 "Oh, Din..."

 Before he can close his eyes, you're on him. His fingers curl over your waist, the place where his hands always end up no matter what situation you're in. It feels natural, like his hands are a magnet drawn to your flesh. He dips the pads of his fingers under the hem of your shirt, and the contact of his naked cold fingers —always covered by the gloves— make you gasp in his mouth. As a consequence, he gasps too, feeling your exhale stuck in his own lungs.

 Your knee is buried in the leather of the chair, between his knees; enclosing him into a tiny little space that he doesn't want to get out of. Your lips are warm, your tongue, warmer. And as his teeth nibbles at your lower lip, your body seems to melt under his touch. His hands get into action, a featherlight touch grazing your clothed inner thighs, burying the pads of his fingers into the fabric until your legs open. He presses a single digit to where he knows your entrance is.

 "Ah..." you moan, gripping his shoulders tightly. He is enamoured with how air leaves your lungs when he touches you, there's pride in that, too. And he rubs, taking more moans from you. "Din..."

 "Keep doing that, cyar'ika."

 He stands and grips the back of your thighs, urging you to close your legs around his hips. The next second, he has you pinned against the right side of the control panel, one that is pretty much empty and has only a few colorful buttons here and there. Your lips only part from his to remove the top of his flight suit. It has a lot of Velcro and straps, although it doesn't look like it at first glance. When you groan in frustration, Din tugs at his own clothes and in two seconds his chest is bare. You barely have time to close your lips around his pulse point before he unzips your pants and gets rid of them and your panties.

 Laying against the console, your thumb delineates his swollen and wet lips. His pupils are so big there's barely any chocolate in there anymore.

 "I'm so mad at you..." you gasp, breathless. "You should've told me before. I would've made it special."

 He remembers that night. He remembers how soft your skin was, your wide eyes when he took the helmet off. Your lovely words that made him, the Mandalorian that he was, blush. That night hadn't been premeditated. He had been wondering for some time what a riduur would look like for him, what it would feel like, and all his thoughts ended up coming back to you. He felt the urge to show you his face, for you to truly know him, and he simply responded to that urge.

 It was simple as that. Easy. As love you should be.

 "I'm sorry," he says, even if there's not a tinge of regret in his voice. He cannot feel any, not when he knows he is soon to be squeezed by your warmth. "Still, I don't think it could have been more special."

 "You get so cheesy when you're hard."

 You both chuckle. That is, until he brings the head of his thick cock to your clit. Rocking back and forth, he rubs you with it, swallows your moans and makes them his own. You can feel every crease, every swollen vein. You clench around nothing, your own heart beating down there.

 "Din," you gasp. "Please, Din. I'm ready."

 Without stopping yet, he leans into your neck and licks just below your jaw. You're still wearing your t-shirt and, by the way the zipper of his flight suit grazes your inner thighs, he didn't get completely naked either. You're still glad you could take off his shirt; his chest is boiling against your own, even if still clothed. The curve of his biceps is your favorite place to hold on to.

 "A bit more..." he says, and a moan follows.

 "Please, my riduur," you beg. "Please, give it to me."

 With a single thrust, he enters you. The sudden stretch makes you see stars, your thighs trembling on each side of him. He nestles deep in your insides, reaching places your fingers could never. He pushes your knees against your breasts, waiting just a second, looking at you and checking that it doesn't hurt, that he wasn't too rough, didn't get caught up in the moment.

 He rolls his hips back, and thrusts.

 He's slow, deep. One of your knees inevitably ends up over his shoulder when he leans in to kiss you, to drown your moans or merge them with his own, you're not sure.

 "My riduur..." he murmurs into your ear. "Mine, mine, mine."

 "Oh, fuck. Din," his own enthusiasm for the word has you clenching around him now that you understand the meaning of it. You never thought you'd be able to get turned on by a single word in Mando'a. As it was known to be, across all the galaxy, a brute language, borderline aggressive. Everyone joked about how even saying 'I love you' sounded as if you were cursing someone.

 He curls his fingers around your neck and presses you against the console, there's a snarl tugging from one of the sides of his lips. The sight of Din fucking you is, most of the time, what brings you near the edge. The gentle touch of his lips to your neck, what makes you come undone. Still, nothing compares to the way he chokes you; the way the pads of his fingers press against the sides of your throat and it is your own arousal that makes you feel like you can't have enough oxygen. He is not doing it that hard, the bridge of his palm nowhere near your windpipe, but you feel breathless nonetheless.

 He growls. And it is the only good thing about his helmet, really, the fact that his growls with the modulator sound so much deeper.

 He is thrusting mercilessly. His stamina so high he doesn't feel the need to slow down. Not like you do when you ride him, something that always fills you with envy.

 "You cum first, cyar'ika," he says, bringing his thumb to your clit. His cheeks have the faintest shade of red. A round, fat drop of sweat runs down his sternum, and you can't help but lick it clean. It is salty and sweet at the same time.

 He doesn't have to work you up much, he flicks his thumb twice, drawing tight circles over your bundle of nerves as he kisses your womb with the head of his cock. And just like that, ecstasy runs a marathon through your veins, leaving goosebumps behind and locking your thighs in its place.

 "Oh," Din lets a long moan out, as he feels you clenching around him impossibly tight. "Oh, that's it," he buries his nose into your hair, his thrust becoming sloppier. "That's it, my riduur. Milking my cock so good."

 By the time you regain your own breath and vision, a split second later, he's filling you up with his seed. The sounds make you drool. The feeling of him balls-deep in you is comfortable, familiar. He is warmth and safety and home. And there's no other place any of you would like to be right now than the arms of one another.

 "Thank you," he says.

 He doesn't know why. Not consciously, at least. Maybe it was because he never thought he would be this close to anyone. Maybe because he had been so touch-starved once that even holding hands made him nervous back then, and now he gets to experience this. Maybe it is because he finally is naked —both literally and figuratively— with someone who knows all his virtues and sins. Maybe because he has taken this as a yes, that you accept him as your riduur and he couldn't be happier.

 Maybe it is all of it.

 You love the way he is a ruthless warrior to everyone's eyes, yet still melts at the faintest of your touches.

 Cradling his face into your hands while he is still inside you, you bring the topic back. Hoping that now that he is content and comfortable, he will at least listen to you.

 "Din, please," you say, and by the way your eyes are looking at him, he knows he will do whatever you want him to. He will fly into a supernova if you ask him right now. "Don't give your armor away. You're my Mandalorian. I'd hate to see you regret that too."

 Din sighs, both mentally and physically tired. Yet a part of him knows you're right. What else would he be without his faith, his purpose? Without it, he was a blank canvas, and he wasn't sure he would be able to fill that void with anything. Being a Mandalorian was a big part of his identity and pride. Would he ever be able to forgive himself if he gave everything away?

 "You weren't always a Mandalorian," you tell him. "And before the initiation ritual, plenty of people saw your face. You were not Mandalorian before, and then you were. Why can't you swear to your Creed again?"

 "It doesn't work like that," he says, and his following words sound bitter even if he didn't mean to. "A promise is unbreakable, it's not something you can do a thousand times. You wouldn't forgive me if I took advantage of your trust a thousand times, would you?"

 Your lips part, and he could have sworn he heard your heart breaking. The thing that scares him the most, however, is that you say nothing. You yourself don't even know if that is true, if you'd be able to not forgive him a thousand times.

 "I- I didn't mean to say that..." he says, his heart is pumping aggressively in his chest. He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't want to screw it up even more. "I'm sorry. I would never- I-I hope you know that."

 "I know, Din," you whisper, kissing his cheek once. "I know. Still, there has to be a way."

 Finally, he slowly pulls out. His cum runs down your thigh as soon as he leaves, and he uses your own panties to clean the path it draws in your flesh. You pull up your pants and in a moment, he is fully dressed again. A part of you wants to whine, cry for the loss of his warm skin against your own, the familiar weight of him over your body. Perhaps the sight of him cleaning you up had turned you on. Again.

 He throws your panties in the laundry basket in the fresher. By the time he comes back, the blissful glow from fucking you is almost gone again. This time, however, you're not letting him bury himself in sadness again.

 He lets you hug him and kiss his forehead, once again leaning against the control panel. His smile appears a second time today, even if brief. But your heart flutters in your chest, happily.

 "If there's no other way..." you tell him, looking into his eyes so he understands your next words. "I want you to know I still love you. Mandalorian or not. And I wanna be there to help you through whatever you're going through."

 "I love you too," he responds, pecking your lips once. Your face between his calloused, warm hands. "Maybe if I could make them forgive me somehow... earn the helmet back..."

 It is just a spark of hope, but it is enough for both of you. Your eyes lit up at his words, and he sees it and knows he has tro try. Even if he knows you love him all the same Mandalorian or not.

 "We go?" you ask him, urging him to get out of hyperspace wherever the other Mandalorians are. Part of you hates that their judgement will dictate if Din can "become" a Mandalorian again or not. But this is his faith, and if this is how the whole thing works, then you'll do whatever means necessary to make sure he succeeds.

 He nods, a sprinkle of hope shining bright in his eyes.

 "We go."

#din dijarin x reader #pedro pascal x reader #the mandaloria/reader #Din Djarin/reader #The mandalorian fanfiction #The mandalorian fanfic #Din Djarin imagine #star wars x reader

[secondaxispoint]

Din Djarin x Male!Mando!Reader

Pairing: Din Djarin x Male!Mando!Reader

Warning: None!

Content: Fluff

This is from Din’s perspective so the reader has a nickname. No use of y/n. Hope you guys enjoy!

Partners

Din had been so used to living alone that when another Mandalorian offered to join him in his travels, it took him a while to come to terms with it. The man was quiet and intelligent. He was a bit taller than him and had a broad frame. Din had watched the other hunter in action and was surprised he had never met him before. His reddish tinted beskar and durasteel armour looked similar to his own, Mandalorian sigil forged proudly on his shoulder.

Once Din had stepped on board, along with his new partner, he was pleasantly greeted by Grogu. He smiles under his helmet and leans down to pick the creature up. He turns to the other man and starts introductions.

“This is Grogu, Grogu this is…”

He pauses, releasing that he never got a name from the other hunter. He looks up from the little beast he held in his arms. A bit of tension left his shoulders when he heard the warrior laugh through his helmet and step a bit closer.

“Jackal. Nice to meet you little guy.”

Din watches as he leans down and reaches a hand to Grogu who giggles happily and grabs one of his gloved fingers. 

“You can get to know him after we get out of here. For now you should get familiar with the controls and layout of the ship.”

Jackal nods and Grogu releases his grip. Din puts him down and makes for the small area where he keeps his weapons. Jackal’s rifle is still clasped to his back and his blaster is still on his hip. He’d have to clear a spot for the other’s weapons. But for now, Din puts his stuff away and leads the man to the very front of the ship. When he hears Jackal’s footsteps become irregular, he looks back to see that Grogu has attached himself to the taller man's calf.

“Y’know it would be easier for both of you if you just picked him up.”

He heard Jackal stifle a laugh as he bent down to pick up the clingy child. Once he had Grogu securely in his arms, he continued on behind Din.

It took a few hours, but the three finally found a safe place to rest for a while. Jackal volunteered to stay up a bit longer due to the lack of space in the ship. Din felt sort of bad but trusted the man to his own devices. He tried to retreat back to his and Grogu’s cramped sleeping quarters but the little one refused to go with him. Grogu climbed up and forced himself into Jackal’s lap. He chuckled and told Din that it was okay and that he would watch over Grogu while he slept.

Din had slept through most of the night, only waking when he heard a quiet knock on the shudder. He opens it to see Jackal standing with a sleeping Grogu in his arms. He silently shuffled out of the sleeping area and offered it to the other. Jackal had a bit tougher time fitting in the makeshift bed but he made it work. Din stretched and prepared himself for the day.

Two years later, the three of you were still together. Din and Jackle had been dancing around their feelings for eachother for over half of it. They shared little moments here and there but never explicitly confronted the other about it. Neither of them wanted to ruin the partnership that they had been building. So feelings continue to go unacknowledged. At least they do until a bounty goes sideways and Jackal almost gets himself killed trying to save Din.

So they both sit in the Razor Crest, panting and bloody. The ship was completely silent besides the ragged breaths coming from the hunters. Grogu was safe and sound with Peli, far away from the shit storm the two created for themselves. Din noticed the stiff and pained posture Jackal had taken. He stood and walked over to the medical area, grabbing a kit, and bringing it back to Jackal.

Din assisted Jackal, laying him down on the floor, and taking his armour off. Albeit not being the cleanest place to tend to an open wound, it was all they had at the moment. With his chest piece off and his weapon put aside, Jackal helped pull the undershirt up enough so that Din could tend to his injury. He had a large vertical gash on his lower left abdomen. Din saw that his midsection was littered with varying healed scars.

He stitches up and bandages the slash before leaning back giving the other some breathing room. Sitting back on his heels, he watched Jackal’s chest rise and fall steadily. Jackal reaches a hand to Din, which he grasps in his own. He helped the man sit up and get up into the co-pilot’s seat in the control room. He grabbed a fresh set of clothes for the injured hunter and gave him some privacy to change. Din stood outside the door, nervously swaying back and forth.

He waited for Jackal to trudge out, hand on his side. Din let out a sigh of relief and offered Jackal his armour back. He didn’t put it back on, instead opting to set it aside and sitting back down in his seat with a groan. Din moved behind him, too restless to sit. He put his hand on the back of Jackal’s chair and spun it around. He wanted to make absolute sure that his partner was going to be okay.

Jackal tilted his head, confused. Din knelt down in front of him with his hands on both sides of the armrests. Jackal said nothing but leaned forward slightly. Din moved his hands down to Jackal’s knees, not pressing any further, just simply setting them there. Din could hear his breath hitch through his helmet. Jackal sat stiff and still until Din started to pull away. Neither man said anything. Jackal grabbed one of Din’s hands and pulled him up to eye level. Slowly leaning forward, Din gently touched his helmet to Jackal’s. He leaned back and sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

Jackal asked, genuinely concerned. Din looked up, and got an idea.

“Do you trust me?”

Din asked the man in front of him.

“With my life.”

The ease with which he said it made Din a bit dizzy.

“Sit tight.”

Din walked to the control panel and Jackal heard him flip a few switches. The lights dimmed and then turned off fully, leaving the men in almost complete darkness. Din carefully moved back in front of Jackal and kneeled in front of him once again. He slowly takes his helmet off and audibly sets it down, hoping Jackal knows what he’s implying. Luckily he does.

He hears Jackal take off his helmet and gently presses it into his hand for him to put down. After placing the helmet down next to his own, Din leaned back up. He stopped about an inch away, he could feel Jackal’s breath on his face.

“Is this okay?”

Din asked in a hushed tone. Instead of responding, Jackal closed the distance between them. The kiss is slow and meaningful. Almost two years of pent up feelings and unresolved tension shone through their intimacy. Jackal moved his hand up and rested it on the back of Din’s neck, the other cupped his jaw. Din tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

Jackal was the first to pull away for air but Din didn’t want the kiss to end. He moved down to pepper Jackal’s neck in love bites and small kisses. Din felt a groan rumble in the back of Jackal’s throat. He finally pulled back and listened to the other man pant in the darkness. Din started to stand up but before he could, Jackal grabbed his hands once again. Only this time he pulled Din towards him.

Din was tugged into Jackal’s lap. Once he was comfortable and not anywhere near Jackal’s injury, Din grabbed both sides of his face and yanked him in again. This time their kiss was more heated. Hands wandered. They both made the most of it since they were probably never going to see each other's faces. Jackal felt the stubble on Din’s face, and ran his fingers through his soft hair.

Although Din couldn’t see, he could imagine what the man in front of him looked like. Flushed cheeks with half-lidded and glossed over eyes. He felt as his cheeks started to burn at the thought. Din was shocked back into reality by a pained groan coming from Jackal. He jumped out of the man’s lap and apologised for losing focus.

“It’s alright Din I’m okay. But maybe we should take a little break for today.”

Jackal chuckled lightly and Din smiled into the darkness. Din fumbled around the ground and grabbed the helmets, putting his on and handing Jackal his. Once both of the Mandalorians were covered, Din slowly turned the lights back on. He saw Jackal, still seated, with his clothes a bit ruffled. He was breathing a bit heavier than normal but other than that he looked okay. He walked back over and offered to lead the fellow hunter back to the makeshift bed with a concealed smile. Jackal accepted his offer gratefully, and the two packed themselves in the small space. They both slept peacefully for the first time in years.

#the mandolarian #the mandaloria/reader #the mandalorian x reader #din jarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x male reader #din and grogu #grogu djarin #x male reader #male reader insert #male reader #pedro pascal

[papurgaatika]

All The Quiet Nights You Bear

Pairing: din djarin x gn!reader

summary: Din Djarin is not warm, he does not drink hot drinks, or sit in steamy baths. But for you, he can try.

Tags: angst, din djarin my sweet boy,, bathing, yes this is just giving Din a bath, fluff, hurt/comfort but I'm hurting all of you and comforting him, mention on Din's mother, angst with a happy ending, tooth-rotting amounts of intimacy, non-sexual nudity, no use of Y/N and no description of reader

word count: 1.8k

A/N: Before I start! This is my first official fic that wasn’t a bullet-pointed list I keep in a locked notes app on my phone so I am begging y’all to please be gentle with me. I want to give a MASSIVE shout-out to @joelsdagger for not letting me off the hook and making sure I stick with this, literally would not have been able to do this without her. So the fic: basically I got in the shower one day and thought about Din just being soft, and thus this was born! Fair warning that I Will by Mitski was in heavy rotation while writing this. I literally love him like a real person and he makes my heart hurt and I want to take care of him, so I got self-indulgent. I also don't really know the star wars universe so this is me making shit up as I go!! Anyway!! Peace and love from me I hope y'all love it as much as I do!!

Din Djarin is cold. He slept under the thin sheet he kept in the bunk of the crest for years, his beskar was always cool to the touch, he took cold showers. The idea of warmth never put him at ease either. It seeps into him, clinging to his body under his armor, reminding him of his blaster right after setting it off. He wants to crawl out of his skin anytime he finds himself on a dry planet, sweltering under its suns. 

Din wasn’t used to just how quiet life ended up being on nevarro. Grogu was in school most days, there was relative peace in the area, yet he still found himself clinging to his old self. Never relaxed, always on edge like he was waiting for a fight to break out. You find yourself watching him more closely, recognizing his routines, wanting to put his mind at ease. But how could you? He still took cold showers, quick and precise about it. Never lingering to enjoy the feel of water on his skin, never stopping to relax.

He thinks that the last time he truly took a hot shower was before he took the creed, when his parents were still alive, when he was only Din Djarin the boy, not a mandalorian. It hurt him to think about it, to picture his mother. Her face had grown fuzzy in his memory after decades without her, but he could feel her. The way her eyes were always soft and warm, her voice like the gentle rain that lulled him to sleep when he was young. He missed her. He missed the way she used to hum while warming the water for his bath, the smile on her lips when he would run up to her. He had tried once, to take a warm shower, to try and remember the oils his mother used to use when he was young. It had ended in him slouched over in the bathroom, the steam almost too much, silent sobs tearing through him. So no, din djarin did not take hot showers. 

But you? You were warm. So warm he felt like he was melting every time he even thought about you. The way you kissed his fingers, the gentleness you have while holding Grogu, the look in your eyes when you lay with him. You were all warm showers. The steam that tumbles after you when you open the door lingers around you like it's trying to surround you, to crowd your senses, to be all over you. Everything that din wants to do to you. He would chase after you throughout the whole galaxy if it meant you would say his name, soft and sweet like he was being saved just by hearing it. 

You were the only warmth that he craved. The only heat he allowed himself to enjoy, to truly want. And so when you call him over to the bathroom, voice soft and gentle, he comes. He will always come to you. You smile when he enters the room and takes in the scene in front of him. The bathtub full of water, steam rising from above it. You, with an expression warm enough to rival the water, eyes locked on his. “Come here,” you whispered, taking his hand in yours. He was uncharacteristically slow to move towards you, but you stood there, hand still waiting for his. Your hand took his, your thumb tracing over the side of his fingers so soft he could barely feel it. “Din-” you whisper looking up at him, “let me take care of you, sweet boy” 

That was your boy. The one you were working so hard to melt, to make him soft around the corners. It was rare that he wore the armor anymore, his days usually spent at home with you and Grogu, the need to hide no longer necessary. You bring his knuckles to your lips as a silent promise to be gentle, to not let him break. “Is that okay?” you ask, hand still holding his. 

He nods, not trusting his voice nearly as much as he trusts you, and you smile. God that smile. Din Djarin would live in that smile if he could. The only smile he thinks will be in his mind like his mother’s. You reach for the hem of his shirt, not pulling at it yet, just letting your fingers rest on top of it waiting for any indication that he was okay with it coming off. You hear a small hum leave his throat and you help him take it off. This was a sight you would never tire of seeing. Tan and broad, his tummy soft under your fingers likely because of your cooking, and god was he beautiful. “Always so pretty to look at” Your fingers trail on his chest. You place a kiss over his heart, a gentle reminder that it was yours and that yours was his. 

You watched as he removed the rest of his clothes, admiring the vision that he was. Yours, yours, yours. You nudged him to the bath, waiting for him to get in. He didn't think he could do it. It was hot. It was like the ones his mother gave him. It was not like him. He was not soft or warm, he was cool and hardened from years of fighting. But it was like you. It was for you. And for you, he could do anything. He let out a soft hiss as his feet hit the water, the temperature still taking him by shock slightly.

“It's okay, just relax. I've got you” Your words pulled him from his thoughts, looking over at you with a tilt of his head.

 “You’re not getting in cyar’ika?” he sounds disappointed, almost like he wants to beg you to hold him, but you shake your head at him. 

“This isn’t for me din, just want to help you relax okay?” You move to sit on the stool you put behind the bath, grabbing the basket full of oils and shampoos and letting them fill both of your senses. You use a cup to grab some of the water and pour it over his curls, the strands dampening and sticking to the back of his neck. You take the time to press a soft kiss to his head, nose and lips wet with the water. You pop open the bottle of shampoo you had fought to find. Din rarely spoke of his life before the creed, but you knew enough to set out on a search for it. The aroma of the shampoo grew easier to smell when you poured it into your palm, sandalwood and something almost citrusy being massaged into his hair. Your nails rake over his scalp and press into his forehead where you know he gets headaches. A soft groan leaves his lips, his eyes fluttering shut. 

“Is this alright my moon?” you whisper, not wanting to disturb the peace that had settled into the room along the steam of the bath. 

“It’s perfect my sun,” he replies, words uncharacteristically soft for him. A small smile finds its way to your lips as you continue to massage the soap into his hair before rinsing it out, taking care to not get it in his eyes.

 “Scooch up, I'm gonna do your shoulders” You dip your toes into the water, legs resting against his thighs before grabbing the soap and a washcloth. 

“So pretty for me Din,” a kiss on his neck “always so perfect,” another one above his collarbone “don't know what I would do without you.” a third kiss on his shoulder, right above a scar he had gotten over the course of his career. You let the soap run down his back gently, watching the bubbles drip down and hit the water. You rub small circles into his skin with the washcloth, running water over it to rinse off the soap, before moving to his arms. Even before you had seen his arms, you had known that he was strong. Hunting bounties all day, fighting, piloting the crest, had led to his arms and hands being known for violence, for having blood on them. But not to you. To you they were the ones that draped across your body at night, the ones used to hold your son while you were out in the markets, they were warm and strong and perfect. They shielded you and protected you, and while you didn’t think you could do the same for him, you were willing to try. Your fingers trace patterns over the scars and freckles he has, goosebumps forming on his skin.  He is sitting in front of you in the bath, the water so hot at one point, that his skin is a little red. Your hands are in his hair taking time to wash it, to truly wash it. Your nails rake against his scalp as the shampoo lathers, before you rinse it out taking care to not get it in his eyes. You massage the conditioner into the ends of his hair, before leaning down to press kisses onto his shoulder. 

“Thank you for letting me do this for you my moon” you murmur resting your chin on his shoulder. He lets out a soft hum that you can feel as you’re pressed up behind him. “Thank you for doing it, my sun.” you can feel the water growing colder than you would like under the two of you, so you make quick work of rinsing the rest of the conditioner out of his hair, lightly curling a few strands around your finger as you finish. Neither of you wants to make a move to get out, the warmth of each other making the water’s temperature almost obsolete, but a sneeze betrays him getting a giggle from between your lips, and din swears it’s the sweetest sound he will ever hear. He can feel your lips curled into a smile as you let your forehead fall to rest on the back of his shoulder and shake your head. 

“Time to get out I think,” you say, reaching over to grab a towel for yourself before stepping out and pulling it around yourself. Din stands next, taking his towel from your hands and wrapping it around his waist before pulling you into him, a surprised “oof” leaving your mouth as he holds you against his chest. You blink up at him, eyes twinkling at just the sight of him and raise an eyebrow waiting for him to speak. 

“Thank you cyar’ika,” his words tremble slightly as he takes a deep breath “Really, this was amazing.. Thank you.” He presses a chaste kiss to the top of your head before letting one of his hands capture yours, interlocking your fingers together. “Anything for you my love” you whisper back before nodding softly to your shared bedroom “Come now, let’s just rest for the day.”

#din djarin #mando #the mandalorian #din dijarin x reader #the mandaloria/reader #star wars fanfiction #the mandolarian fanfiction #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian one shot #din djarin x y/n #the mandalorian x y/n #papaya writes <3

[unofficial-writing]

As long as I’m here

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!reader

Warnings: angst (if you can call it that), mentions of blood/wounds, some fluff, Din is a baddie, allusion to smut but not really, protective Din, TW: Kidnapping

Summary: Moff Gideon sent troopers to retrieve you as bait for Mando but he’s not letting that happen.

Word count: 1.2k

«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ «̶ ̶̶̶ 　　　　 ̶ ̶ ̶»̶  ̶̶̶ ̶ »

Nevarro’s sun neared the horizon. It would be dark soon, providing a little more cover than you had now. You slid cautiously behind a building in order to avoid interaction with a group of imperial troopers that walked on the main street.

A few buildings down the alley and you started to notice the stormtroopers matching your route on the other side of the building. Your body stiffened at the realization and you turned down a series of twists and turns. Once you finally glanced back, you noticed only two out of six continued their pursuit. The rest were nowhere in sight.

Coming to the end of the alley, you ducked into one of the buildings— which you hoped was empty. As you descended the stairs, you came into a dimly lit room stacked with shelves of what looked like ship parts

As you crossed the room toward the other door, the click of blasters hit your ears and you stopped; your hands falling to hover discreetly over the weapon concealed in your thigh holster.

“Hands up,” came the irritating voice of one trooper. You scoffed, scanning the room slowly. Four were already around you and the other two came down the stairs behind you, blocking your easiest exit.

When he repeated himself, your blaster was out in less then a second and two troopers quickly fell dead where they stood. When you aimed for the third, four barrels stared you down, pointed directly at your head from only a few feet away.

“Drop your weapon!” One demanded. You cursed under your breath, lowering your weapon to the ground. The second it was out of your grip, your hands were cuffed behind your back and a cover was placed over your mouth.

You waited until you were escorted out of the building and under the slowly darkening sky before attempting your first escape plan.

You ducked under the arms that held you and prepared a blow for him. There weren’t really any good options with your hands tied and mouth covered so your escape ended in failure. You found yourself held by two troopers with guns pointed at your skull.

On the walk through town, you caught the eye of Cara Dune. She knew you but likely wouldn’t recognize you in this state and lighting. A flicker of fear twisted at you, despite your incredible ability to conceal it.

Dank Farrik, you cursed to yourself while trying to come up with an escape route. You became increasingly aware that the longer you waited the slimmer your chances got.

«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ «̶ ̶̶̶ 　　　　 ̶ ̶ ̶»̶  ̶̶̶ ̶»

Cara Dune sought out the Razor Crest immediately, catching the Mandalorian by surprise with her approach instead of yours.

“Is y/n here?” She asked, scanning the hull but only finding Grogu and Din.

“No she went into town.” He answered simply.

“Dank Farrik, then that was her.”

“What?” Mando set down what he was doing and turned to give Cara his full attention.

“Troopers have her, they’re—” She didn’t need to explain further.

“Watch the kid.” He said, walking down the hatch door with his weapon in hand. Cara looked down at Grogu who looked back at her.

«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ «̶ ̶̶̶ 　　　　 ̶ ̶ ̶»̶  ̶̶̶ ̶»

Gloved hands held you in place as you limped, dragging your feet as much as possible to ensure they had to pull you along. Your second escape attempt— which took place just before you were ducked into an abandoned-looking building— resulted in a blaster wound to the upper thigh and an injury to the head.

Your head injury wasn’t severe but you were extremely dizzy, and despite the pain you found yourself able to walk.

After traveling down a small tunnel, you stood in a cargo storage unit. Due to the dizziness and what was probably blood loss, you had to be practically held up.

“Why aren’t we just taking her off planet?” One of the troopers asked, which was met with a short-tempered response.

“Moff Gideon wants her brought up to him.” He answered. “It’s not dark enough yet, people’ll get suspicious.”

The first stormtrooper scoffed. “We don’t have to worry about suspicions.”

“I think you do.” You jumped a little at the new voice, but you recognized it instantly. Din seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He stood across the room with his weapon pointed at the group. In response the trooper holding me pressed the barrel of his hand blaster to my neck.

“Give her to me.” Din’s tone was slow and clear. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Come any closer and both of you die.” The three other troopers aimed their blasters at Din.

“I’ll repeat myself only once.” He didn’t hesitate. “Give her to me.” One of the troopers cocked his weapon, the movement quickly being responded with a brief flash of light and three out of four soldiers falling dead. The last stood a little more shakily, holding you in place.

The Mandalorian turned his head, his helmet coldly staring at the stormtrooper. The trooper hesitantly let you slip out of his grip, handing off your unsteady body to Din, who pulled you to him by your waist to hold you up.

“Take something of mine again,” he threatened with an edge of hatred in his tone. “And the consequences will be much more severe.”

He turned to lead you out, with his blaster still pointed at the trooper. He shot first, barely touching Din’s armor before it was countered. You both watched the last trooper fall to the ground.

Now in the empty cargo room, Din set you on a crate and removed your handcuffs and mouth piece. Sitting up rather than standing, your dizziness was much more manageable.

Din cut a slit in your pant leg, to examine the wound. “Undressing me here?” You asked in a sarcastic tone.

“Not yet.” He responded to your joke but by his tone, you could tell he wasn’t in the joking mood. You could feel his tense demeanor even through his armor.

“I’m ok, Din.” You stated, attempting to make him feel a little better.

“I know,” he replied. After a long pause he sighed. “He couldn’t get me, so he went for you.”

You knew it was normal for Din to keep his thoughts inside his head, even more so when outside the Razor Crest. This was no different.

Moff Gideon’s act infuriated him. There were two things in the galaxy that he’d lay down his life for; Grogu and you. The thought of nearly losing you to the empire was reasonably anger inducing.

You rested your hands on either side of his neck, your fingers finding the only spot on him that wasn’t concealed by armor. He instantly relaxed at your touch, raising his hands to meet yours.

"As long as I'm here, nobody is taking you anywhere." He spoke calmly now that his anger had subsided. I gave him the makings of a smile and he helped me back onto the ground, leading me out and back in the direction of the Razor Crest.

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandaloria/reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x y/n #din djarin x female reader

[fullcollectivecloud]

COMING SOON…

#pedro pascal #the mandaloria/reader #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorian #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack whiskey daniels #jack whiskey daniels x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader

[ilovemensthings]

Clutching Vulnerability [Din Djarin]

pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader

warnings: comfort, fluff

As Din stood before you, his helmet clutched in his gloved hands, you could sense the weight of his vulnerability. Slowly, hesitantly, he lifted the helmet, revealing the face he had concealed for so long. His expression was a mix of apprehension and longing, as if he feared your reaction. But you simply gazed at him, your eyes filled with empathy.

His features were weathered, marked by battles and hardships, yet undeniably handsome. Your heart swelled with affection for this warrior who had captured your heart. "Din, you are truly handsome," you said softly, your voice full of sincerity.

A mixture of relief and disbelief crossed his face as he registered your words. The tension in his shoulders seemed to ease as he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Stepping closer, you reached up to brush your fingers against his cheek, your touch gentle and reassuring. "You don't have to hide who you are from me, Din. Your strength and character shine through, no matter what."

His eyes, which had always seemed so fierce behind his helmet, now held a vulnerability that drew you in even more. He leaned into your touch, his stubbled cheek warm beneath your fingertips. "It's been so long," he admitted in a low voice, his gaze fixed on yours.

"I'm glad you trust me enough to share this with me," you replied, your voice a soothing balm. "You're not alone anymore, Din. I'm here for you."

His hand covered yours on his cheek, his grip firm yet gentle. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice raw with emotion.

Leaning in, you pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, a silent promise that you would always be there to support him. And in that moment, as he held your gaze with a mixture of gratitude and affection, you knew that your bond with him had deepened beyond words.

From that day forward, Din Djarin continued to fight for what he believed in, no longer burdened by the weight of his hidden identity. And you stood by his side, a constant source of comfort and strength, reminding him that he was loved just the way he was.

#din djarin #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djaren #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandaloria/reader #the mandalor