#mandolorian imagine

[kaleidescope-writes]

Here's a Preview

So as some of you may know, I'm writing again. But I don't want to just jump back into the multiple series that I was working on before the hiatus, mainly because I feel like I'm extremely out of practice. Instead, I'm going to post some drabbles and oneshots that I had planned but never executed. This will also be an intro for me to start writing for other characters and people that I didn't write for previously. The first one I want to do is a Din Djarin x reader fic based on this scene:

(The scene where they're in each other's minds and Rey drops Darth Vader's helmet, revealing her location to Kylo)

Would anyone like to be tagged?

Side note, I plan to post this later today, so yea. Keep an eye out for that.

Ok, so update. I was gonna make it a 2 parter, but decided against since the title would be how it ends and I don't want that. So, good news, it's gonna be longer. Bad news, I'm posting it tomorrow instead.

#mando x reader #mando fanfiction #the mandolarian #the mandalorian #din dijarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x female oc #din djarin x gn reader #pedro pascal #pedro x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #star wars imagine #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian imagine #mandolorian imagine #mando x you

[oliviajdjarin]

Din Djarin: Languid

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Excerpt: “Can we do this now?” he asked, resting his nose against your cheek. His breaths coated your face. “Please?”

You smiled, burying your hands in his hair. Your eyes drifted closed in bliss. “Yes, Din. I want you. Right now.”

He kissed your cheek and placed your hands back on his armor. “Please get this off of me, and please keep me awake.”

And you did.

Warnings: sleepy, love-filled sex between a married couple. Wife!reader, grogu’s asleep, unprotected sex, mostly just kissing and feeling up. NOT breeding kink. A bit of cockwarming.

A/N: Once again, Happy Dincember everyone. I cannot explain how grateful I am for almost 3,000 followers without crying.

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated :)

Pedro Masterlist

(GIF from Pinterest)

The familiar scuff of his boots on the Crest floor pulled you from REM sleep into barely languid, and the heat of your body from the cot’s covers warmed just so.

Your riduur was home.

Due to how out of it you were, it took you a few moments to realize that no, this wasn’t a dream. This was real. The two-day mission turned five, turned seven, turned nine, turned twelve was finally over, and your numb body somehow found the strength to prop itself up and drape yourself with the blankets.

You sat like that, all wrapped up in your cocoon, smiling to yourself with your eyes closed, for a few moments. You then stood up slowly, taking the blankets with you, and squinted your way out of the bedroom. Your eyes were no wider than slits, and you thanked the maker for muscle memory.

You swallowed the sleep from your mouth and rounded the corner, feeling your muscles ache with stretch, still in a daze. Your head was beginning to swim with dopamine, and with one last yawn, you made it to the cock pit.

The sight before you halted you instantly.

There was your husband, wrapped in wealth and impenetrable metal, leaning over Grogu’s tiny bassinet. He must have gotten fussy when Din opened the airlock, and Din had immediately taken care of it.

You’d have to thank him for that later.

He sat Grogu up, patting his back, and fed him small bites of maple bar. His favorite.

“That’s it buddy,” he whispered. “Swallow. There ya go.”

You stood and watched this encounter, soaking it in. It was moments like this that you missed the most when he was gone—moments so domiciliary and domesticated that they etched into your heart implicitly. These moments were so wrapped in rarity that you could not even daydream about them or yearn for them, because you didn’t even know they existed. Like watching a Mandalorian brush his teeth, or chop an onion, or change the sheets, or breathe at night. They were the memories you would recall when you were old and graying, unable to describe them in a way that did them justice.

You wrapped yourself tighter in the blankets, just watching and basking in the glow of it. Eventually Din laid Grogu down, tucking him in, and traced his face with his leather-bound glove.

“Goodnight buddy,” he whispered, and turned to you.

You looked up at him in all his sheathing, and smiled.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi,” he whispered back. He smelled of metal and woods with a hint of gunpowder. In the nearly pitch black of the room his shoulders still appeared as broad as ever, his armor was caked in mud, and his weapons belt hung a noticeable amount lower than usual.

You took a moment to soak in the fact that you would look at him like this for the rest of your life.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, moving closer to you.

“You didn’t,” you replied, “your boots did.”

His chuckle underneath the modulator was nothing like it was out of it, but it was enough to bring you home.

“You know I like being up for you when you get back,” you said, looking up higher at him as he came closer and closer. The warmth of the blankets and increased blood flow were not the only things warming your insides now. “Let me be your docile, obedient wife for once.”

You could feel the smirk on his face. “Yes. Obedient and docile, perfect for you.”

He made it to you, wrapping his hands around your waist. Your hands laid on top of his cooled beskar chest and chills etched up your spine as you looked up at him with a smile.

He pressed his forehead firmly against your own. The smell of forest and frost on him engulfed you. “My wife is none of those things.”

You hummed. “No, she isn’t.”

He began slowly walking you backwards into the bedroom, as if you were swaying in a dance, and your hands crept up to his helmet.

“Why didn’t you wake me up when the kid was fussy? I could have taken care of him.”

His gloved hands trailed up your back and the exhaustion in his voice was present. “I missed him. Wanted to take care of him.”

You smiled and pressed a kiss to his visor, tasting a mix of ice and salt that burned your chapped lips. “Okay.”

The back of your knees hit the bed frame and you stopped, creeping your hands underneath Din’s helmet.

“If you take this thing off me I’m not going to be able to keep my mouth off you.”

He said it so nonchalantly, as if that was a normal thing to say, and the fatigue of his voice and body language liquified you even more. Your still drowsy state was not helping matters.

You felt euphoric, in a perfect state of conscious and unconscious, like you were still in a dream. It was paradise.

“That’s exactly what I had in mind,” you said, removing the sheets wrapped around you. You let them fall onto the bed before reaching back up for him, slowly rising the helmet off of his head. The familiar hiss coated your ears as it rose, and the chocolate eyes that were yours forever met your own.

He smiled in the dark, illuminated by the moon. He brought his mouth inches away from yours, breathing in your breaths. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you responded, and he kissed you.

Immediately, the taste and feel of him washing over you threatened to crumble you to the floor. Din hands on your waist were the only things keeping you upright.

He kept you standing like it was nothing.

He kissed you slowly and deeply, taking his sweet time tasting you again. Your hands worked their way up his body, tracing his beskar all the way up to his hair. Your tongue met his at the same moment your nails scratched his scalp, and he pulled away from you to groan.

“Can we do this now?” he asked, resting his nose against your cheek. His breaths coated your face. “Please?”

You smiled, burying your hands in his hair. Your eyes drifted closed in bliss. “Yes, Din. I want you. Right now.”

He kissed your cheek and placed your hands back on his armor. “Please get this off of me, and please keep me awake.”

And you did.

Piece by piece, you disrobed the Mandalorian from his beskar down to complete nudity, watching his eyes open and close as he began to drift to sleep as he stood. A few times you had to lean him onto you to prevent him from falling, and he kissed around your pulse point every time. Whispering gibberish.

Finally you squatted down to remove his boots, and just like that, he was naked in front of you. His purple under-eyes stood out in the moonlight, as well as a new scar across his abdomen. Your irises coated in worry, reaching up to feel it, but he stopped you.

“Tomorrow,” he said, kissing you more passionately than he had all night. “Tomorrow.”

Then he disrobed you.

The rough skin on his hands tracing you lit you on fire, boiling you enough to keep you conscious. He was the slowest with your panties, pulling them down your thighs like an art form. You scratched your nails down his warm back, and that seemed to speed him up.

As soon as the fabric hit the floor Din lifted you into his arms, laying you down flat on the cot before crawling overtop of you.

“Din, you’re tired, I can—”

“No,” he said, burying his head in your neck. “Wanna be close to you.”

You couldn’t say no to that.

He took the sheets you had discarded and covered them over the two of you. You could see nothing else but him, and you were completely surrounded by the scent and warmth of his skin.

“Maker I missed you so badly,” he said before kissing you hard enough to make you whine. You pulled him as close to you as possible, tracing his body as he kissed and kissed and kissed you, memorizing your mouth. The passion and heat in you were rising, and with one trace down his haired chest with your nail, he pulled away. He traced his hands over your face, pushing your hair away to see you fully. You traced his face too, noticing his scruff had turned into a full beard.

You always liked that look on him.

“Y/N,” he whispered. “My Y/N.” He spoke as if you were unbelievable

“I’m right here,” you responded, holding his face in your hands.

“I just want to be inside of you,” he whispered, almost pathetically. “Can we just skip to that part?”

You smiled, laughing loudly, and kissed him quickly. “Yes.”

He huffed a laugh and kissed you again, nice and slow, like he had been the whole night.

He kissed you and felt you for so long that you didn’t know if he would make it. His movements slowed and slowed as he went on, touching you and tracing you so meticulously it was like he was painting you from nothing.

Finally, with a firm kiss to your jawline, he entered you tortuously. You exhaled in pure pleasure, and your body threatened to rapture already.

He was a dream come true.

Din halted when he was as deep as he could go and tucked his head into your neck. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika riduur.”

You kissed the side of his head. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, adol akaan.”

And that’s when he started to move.

As he moved in and out, in and out, in and out, dragging each thrust on and on to feel every inch of your folds. He felt all around you, re-memorizing you; how you skin felt, how your body had changed, and the exact rhythm of your heart.

Tears spilled from your eyes as he moved, and you moaned his name over and over, grateful for the return of it in your tongue.

“Keep—keep doing that, saying my name,” he said as he moved. “Almost forgot I had it.”

You repeated it over and over again, clenching around Din when he began to shake. He swirled his shaking fingers around your clit, and with one last clench, the both of you went.

The covers above your heads did little to hide the sound of your synchronization, and it was then that you really started to drift. Din was so warm inside you—filling you up completely—and his body had you trapped in a cave of sheets and serenity. You were perfectly satisfied with your husband safe and sound in your arms, and your body began to fail you.

You felt Din prop himself up and press kisses around your face and your mouth, and your lips tingled with the intensity of it all. He rubbed his nose against yours and pecked your lips before laying back on top of you, pulling the covers raised above his head off as he did. You were hit with fresh air, and were inches away from bliss before Din whispered one last thing in your ear.

“Goodnight, docile and obedient wife.”

You drifted off with a smile.

None of this was a dream. This was real.

Your riduur was home.

Mando’a Translations:

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika riduur: I love you/ I will know you forever, my sweet wife.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, adol akaan: I love you/ I will know you forever, even through war.

Tag list: (I apologize if your tag is not working/not added. Let me know if you’d like to be added!!)

@leahkenobi

@cityofidek @burned-dorito @tiredbuthappy @punkiwiki @lovesbiggerthanpride @darth-voder @samanthacookieone @torchbearerkyle @stardust-galaxies @c4psicles-blog @joelsflannel l @mysun-n-stars @tateelii @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @l0calgoth @thesmutslut @alastorhazbin @grincheveryday @martinsmomo @letaliabane @cathenan @big-ol-boat @niiight-dreamerr @jezebel1945 @call-me-doll-face @yelyahcardella @letskeepthislo-ki @misspearly1 @petals-opento-the-moon @just-a-sewer-goblin @em---r @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @l0calgoth @thesmutslut @alastorhazbin @grincheveryday @reader8679 @torchbearerkyle @stardust-galaxies @c4psicles-blog @joelsflannel @mysun-n-stars @tateelii @darth-voder @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @cockscombkingdom

@lexloon @pauphs

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin angst #dincember #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #the mandolorian fanart #the mandalorian smut #dincember 2022 #star wars fanfiction #star wars #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #narcos #javier peña x reader #the last of us #joel miller

[flowersforjude]

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | A night in a beautiful meadow and an innocent question leads to a startling confession.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1,422

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Literally none. Just an oblivious reader and nervous Din. Fluff rised to the max.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Guy’s, this made me weep with how cute it is. So, just fair warning I guess?

masterlist | read on ao3

Like most things, it started with a simple question.

“Cyar’ika, can you hand me that wrench?”

You were helping Din with some repairs on the Crest when you heard that word for the hundredth time.

As you picked up the tool, your mind wrestled with the wandering thoughts of what that word meant. Din called you that all the time. He’d throw some others in the mix every once in a while.

Mesh’la.

Cyar.

Cyar’ika was the most common, though. You didn’t speak a bit of Mando’a, so you had no clue what he was calling you. He could be calling you the worst thing ever, and you wouldn’t even know. But even with his rough exterior, you highly doubted that he was referring to you as anything too horrible.

With every cyar, mesh’la, or cyar’ika your curiosity grew. But you didn’t voice your questions out of fear that you’d overstep some invisible boundary. You and Din were close—well, as close as the Mandalorian would let himself get to you. He’d told you his true name, so you counted that as progress. He still had so many secrets, though. So you didn’t want to push him to reveal stuff he wasn’t ready for. You would take whatever he’d give you. You would have him, however you could.

But sometimes your interest was almost too much.

Like at daybreak when he would touch your shoulder oh so gently and say, “Good morning, cyar.” In that deep, velvety cadence his voice had in the mornings.

Or when you’d just had a close call on a mission and he would rush to you, frantic, and place his hands on your cheeks. “Are you alright, cyar’ika? Are you hurt?” The words would leave his lips in a hurry and sometimes jumble together. You knew what he was saying nonetheless.

It was those moments when he showed you gentleness, concern, and care that you found it hard not to blurt out everything on your mind.

“What does cyar’ika mean?”

“What does cyar and mesh’la mean?”

“Do you know what it does to me when you touch me?”

“Do you love me as much as I love you?”

But you kept quiet and let the thoughts mingle in your mind. You were just going to leave well enough alone. Hoping that possibly ignoring your curiosity would make it, and your developing feelings fade away. That proved to require arduous effort, which you found yourself lacking day by day. And eventually, your efforts proved to be in vain.

The night it happened, the Crest had landed on some forest planet. Din had just wrapped up a difficult hunt, so he perched the ship on the first globe he could. You and the kid had been cooped up inside for days now, so as soon as the hatch opened, you were both bounding down from the cockpit.

The kid ran into the tall grass of the field, chasing frogs and crickets with the moonlight guiding his expedition. You stood close to the ship, just watching him with a loving smile. Din came to stand beside you, quite as ever, but his presence was a comfort you relished in far too much.

The first blink of light had you curious. The second and third and fourth flashes had you in awe.

The serene meadow was set ablaze with glittering brightness. Fireflies floated high and low, strung about the tall grass like hundreds of flawless silvery stars. They blanketed the grassland far and wide, down to the glimmering lake in the distance.

“Oh wow,” you breathed. You ventured farther out into the plain, turning in a slow circle, absolutely awestruck.

You could hear the child’s gurgling laughter from nearby. You couldn’t help the giggle that erupted from your throat. The dazzling excitement from the whole experience makes you somewhat astounded. You've never seen anything like this before. Something so beautiful.

You face Din, still standing guard at the front of the ship. “Isn’t this spectacular?” You questioned.

You could hear the airy chuckle get past his vocoder. “It’s certainly something.”

You rolled your eyes in a very childish manner and tilted your head in confusion. “How could you think this is anything but…what’s the word for beautiful in Mando’a?”

You’ve caught his full attention now, seemingly catching him off guard. He appears stunned beyond words. Beyond thoughts as well perhaps. You don’t understand why. It was just a simple question, but it seemed to have knocked any rational notion from him.

What you don’t know is that while you look at him with such sincerity in your eyes and you wait slightly nervous for his response, his brain is nothing short of a mess.

“Din,” you begin. “If I’ve crossed a line somehow-”

“The word is mesh’la.”

That stops you short. Your heart thudded to a halt for several seconds as you took in the sudden confession.

“Mesh’la,” you repeat softly.

You have no idea that his knees almost buckle at the sound of your voice speaking in his mother tongue.

Your face heats at the implication. Mesh’la means beautiful. Din calls you Mesh’la. Din calls you beautiful. He thinks you're beautiful? Or was it meant as something like a courtesy? Was he just being a flirt? No, Din wasn’t the type. So he must think it if he calls you it.

“Y/N.”

You speak up before he can get another word out. “You think I’m beautiful?”

He nods. “Yes.”

A grin tugs your lips up ever so slightly. Realization dawns on you as your mind recalls all the affectionate exchanges that you fooled yourself into thinking were merely friendly.

A coo from below takes your attention for a moment. The kid is at your feet with his arms stretched up for you. You hold him in the crook of your elbow as you close the distance between you and Din. When you stop in front of him, a radiant smile is permanently placed upon your lips.

“And uh, cyar’ika,” you whisper. “What does that mean…?” You’re a little hesitant to let all your questions come to light. A small part of you still worried you’re reading too much into it.

He takes a deep breath, and you try to ignore the anxiety coursing through you. “Cyar’ika…” He’s never sounded this breathless before. “It means sweetheart.”

The blood rushes to your cheeks with a new fury, painting your skin scarlet. It terrifies you a little that you can’t see his face, that you can’t read the expressions he is wearing right now. You think you know where this is going, but not being able to sense the situation from the other person makes it hard to be sure. You can see that he’s tense, possibly waiting for you to tell him that you were uncomfortable. But you weren't; you were a nervous wreck, but you were not uncomfortable with this knew information in the slightest. You were trying to figure out how to move forward with this without seeming like a lovesick fool.

After waiting an eternity trying to get a hold of yourself, you make a decision. You slowly bring your hands up to him, gently gliding along his arms until they reach the broad expanse of his shoulders, and then the cool surface of his helmet.

You can feel his panic, but you softly sush him. Eventually, your hands still on the side of his helmet, where you imagine his cheeks would be. You picture them flushed like yours. Even through the impenetrable beskar, you feel like the heat of his skin is melting into yours. You imagine how it would actually feel to be skin to skin with him. If you ever had the privilege to experience that, you were sure you could die happy.

What happens next is a surprise. Din clutches your hands in his and brings them down between you both. He then slowly touches his forehead to yours. The shock of cold metal draws a gasp from your lips.

“Ni ganar hid ner kar'taylir darasuum teh gar par chaaj'yc too munit, cyar’ika.” A whispered admission comes from him.

You can’t help but laugh as you have no clue what he said. “What?”

He chuckles along with you. “I said that I have hidden my love from you for far too long, sweetheart.”

Your heart cracks open with so many emotions that it’s overwhelming. It aches inside you, but the pain is welcome because you’d rather have this, him, than the uncertainty you lived in for so long.

I poured over this for days, and I still feel like something isn't right. But oh well, maybe it'll come to me later. 🤷‍♀️

#pedro pascal #the mandolarian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandolorian x you #the mandolorain imagine #din djarin #din djarin x y/n #din djarin imagine #din dijarin x reader #star wars #star wars imagine

[entitled-fangirl]

I know you made her your riduur.

Din Djarin x reader

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

Warnings: kidnapping, mention of blood, fighting, threatening

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

Masterlist

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

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

Y/N and Grogu.

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

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

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

"Drop the blaster." Moff Gideon commanded.

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

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

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

"…Slowly."

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

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

But Din didn't care. 

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

Even if that means surrendering.

"Now kick it over to me."

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

"They are just fine where they are."

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

She grimaced slightly, looking down at the child.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Din steps forward.

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

Din nodded, moving to his little clan.

Gideon stepped forward to let the Mandalorian do so.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stayed in the doorway, watching the two fight.

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

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

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

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

Y/N immediately walked to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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#fanfiction #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mandalorian imagine #mando #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandolorian #the mandolarian #the mandolorian x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal

[bbygirlpascal]

Behave (Pedro Pascal x Fem Reader)

Hi friends! Sorry about the lack of posting last week, I was on vacay in Disney, it was a really great break from reality hehe. But I’m back now and will be posting weekly. Hope you like this one. <3

18+ ONLY. Please don’t interact with my posts if you are under 18.

Includes: unprotected sex, choking, demanding, teasing, solo play, public play.

Summary: This doesn’t really have a story line, mostly just smut. Reader wants to see if Pedro will behave in public as she teases him all night. ;)

Pedro couldn’t keep his hands off of you all day. You were both getting ready for an event you got invited to tonight. Going to events with coworkers of Pedro’s was always fun, but tonight you both just wanted to be in bed together, fucking each other senseless.

“Mama, you can’t wear that dress tonight,” Pedro says to you, looking you up and down hungrily.

You furrow your brows together, “But, this is the dress I’ve had picked out all week.”

Pedro walks up behind you and looks at you through the mirror you’re standing in front of. He wraps his lips around your earlobe giving it a soft bite and sending shiver down your body. “If you wear that, I don’t know if I’ll be able to behave myself.”

Your cheeks became flush and your pussy was aching from his words and his touch. You bit your lip, “Well, you’re just going to have to behave aren’t you? Cause I’m not changing,” you walk away from him and grab your shoes. As you bend over to put on your shoes, Pedro looks over to see you are not wearing any underwear.

You feel his finger run up your slit and let out a breath, gripping onto the bed post. “You’re killing me baby,” Pedro says to you, still toying with your pussy. “I want to taste you now.”

You turn around to face him and your met with his fingers in your mouth. You swirl and wrap your tongue around them, slowly bobbing your head up and down. You know what this does to Pedro and you were in the mood to be a tease all night, testing to see if he really will behave himself. Your eyes met his and he was watching your every move, fixating on your mouth around his fingers.

You let his fingers come out of your mouth with a pop, “You’re just going to have to wait, we need to go. Now.”

You grabbed his hand as he dragged his feet behind you and you both made it out the door into the car. The company that was hosting the event tonight had arranged a driver to pick you both up so you climbed your way into the back seat of the SUV. You both exchanged small talk with the driver and silence fell upon the vehicle, the sound of the radio softly filtering through to the back seat where you and Pedro sat.

The middle seat was empty between you and Pedro, you turned to face him, your back to the window. You brought your legs up resting them on the middle seat, exposing your pussy to him. You watched him shift uncomfortably, as you spread your legs a bit wider. Bringing your hand down to your pussy, you starting rubbing circles on your clit, and dipping them into your dripping sex. You could hear the wetness of your pussy as you continued to play with it, teasing Pedro to the point where you could tell he was about to burst through his pants.

He brought his hand up to your leg, rubbing your calf and nudging your leg open wider so he could get a better look. You quickly closed your legs, making sure he knows you can’t touch him right now. The car came to a stop as you realized you had arrived at the plaza.

You made your way into the event room, your arm looped around Pedro’s. He took a quick pit stop in the bathroom to readjust himself. You both once again made small talk with other guests at the event, Pedro’s hand resting on your lower back and lowering to caress your ass every now and then. Once you two had found your table you took a seat.

You placed your hand on Pedro’s thigh, eventually creeping your way up to his cock. It’s still semi-hard from your performance in the car and you smiled to yourself. You started to palm him through his pants, feeling his cock grow harder. Pedro let out a sigh and shifted in his seat.

He leaned over to whisper in your ear, “Don’t make me take you home and punish you,” he said with a clenched jaw. Just what you wanted.

You continued to tease him throughout the night and once you both had finally made it home, you closed the door and Pedro pinned you against it. His face inches from yours, as he wrapped his hand around your throat, placing his thumb against your lips.

“Did teasing me all night make you wet? Hmm?” he asked you as he slid his fingers into you. “You think it’s fun for me to be hard all night while you sit there with that pretty smile on your face as you rub my cock and play with your pussy?” he pumped his fingers in and out of you, making you moan and whimper as he curled them toward your g spot. You bit your lip as he fingered your pussy, hearing how wet you were for him made you even more aroused.

You wrapped your leg around him, but he moved it away. “No, now it’s my turn,” he said nipping at your jaw. He traveled open mouthed kiss all down your body, starting from your neck, to your collarbones, to your chest. He pulled down the top of your dress, exposing your tits and started sucking and flicking his tongue on your nipples. Placing soft kisses on them, making you shiver at his soft touch.

He eventually pulled your dress down to your ankles as he worked his way down your body, softly touching every inch of your body with his mouth. He lead you to the bedroom and laid you down on your back. He took off your shoes, kissing the tops of your feet all the way down your leg. He stopped at your inner thigh, teasing you by hovering his mouth over the sensitive skin, licking and sucking on your inner thigh.

Your hips squirmed, so desperate for friction on your pussy. “Mmm, not yet princess,” he said to you. He rose up and took of his shirt, unbuckled his pants and dropped them and his boxers to the floor. His cock was already hard and dripping with precum. You bit your lip, craving his cock inside of you.

“Please Pedro, I’m sorry,” you whimpered. He ran the tip of his cock onto your folds as you sharply inhaled at the friction you wanted so bad.

“Touch yourself,” Pedro demanded. You brought your fingers down to your clit, rubbing circles on it, bucking your hips towards his cock as he continued to tease you with it. “Good girl, you’re behaving now.”

He thrusted his cock into you completely, filling out your walls perfectly and making you cry out. He pulled out completely before diving back in, his cock stretching you out. The pleasure washed over you and he continued to thrust into your pussy. He bent down and connected his lips to yours, you both sloppily kissing each other, tongues squirming around each other, and your moans muffled into his mouth.

“Turn around baby,” he said breathlessly as you turned around for him, pushing your hips up into the air. Pedro spanked you harshly, the sting subsided quickly as he slapped you again. He entered his cock into you, he felt even bigger from behind. He wildly thrust into you, the sound of skin on skin filling your ears. His hands dug into your hips as he guided your on his cock.

You felt that familiar feeling in your pussy as his balls slapped against your clit.

“Baby, I’m gonna come,” you said to him.

“Come on my dick baby.”

He thrust into you harder and you felt your walls contract around his cock. Pushing your hips up even more to feel him deeper inside of you.

“Yes, just like that baby,” he said, still thrusting into you. He pulled out his cock and turned you around, you took his tip into your mouth, he used his hand to pump his shaft and you felt his load cover your tongue as you swallowed.

You got up onto your knees, facing Pedro as he kissed you all over making you fall back on the bed.

#pedro pascal fanfic rec #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrito #hbo the last of us #the last of us hbo #hbo tlou #the mandolorian #the last of us #agent whiskey #game of thrones #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot

[spctrsgf]

a confession

summary: dreaming about losing the one person you couldn’t was bad enough, but now you can’t look at him without seeing that very image. and your counterpart isn’t gonna take that lightly.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: language, descriptions of blood and death, nightmares, PTSD of a sort?, angsty and then fluffy, friends to lovers cus im a sucker for it hehehe

a/n: i sincerely apologize for all the old (as in i initially wrote them a while ago) fics i've been posting, i've been working on this one oscar fic but i'm so demotivated to write it since i haven't seen scenes of a marriage and i need to a bit to write it :/

but enjoy din in honor of season three!

The kid tugged on your shirt, reaching for the piece of meat you were dangling over his head, garbling angrily. You laughed at his antics, lowering the treat and letting him eat it ferociously. Your gaze drifted to the hull door again, worry gnawing in your stomach in the wake of Din’s absence. 

As if thinking of the man summoned him, the hatch creaked to life, lowering to reveal your companion. Your shoulders slumped and a smile caressed your lips at the sight of him in all his glory. You rushed over, taking the quarry in a hurry to have him to yourself. The quarry grumbled as you yanked her by the arm, shoving her in the carbonite chamber with no hesitation. 

You slammed a hand on the button to your left, sealing her in. You turned around then, bouncing on your toes in excitement to spend time with your favorite person in the universe. You expected to see him standing near his armory, disposing himself of a few of his weapons. But instead you found him crumpled and on the floor, frantically fidgeting with his chest plate. “Din?!” You scrambled over, helping him pull off the offending piece of armor.

You worked diligently to get off the rest of his armor, growing increasingly worried at his labored breathing and shaky hands. You pulled off his shirt, bracing yourself for the damage-

No.

No amount of preparation could brace you for this.

A bullet wound punctured through his paling skin, gnarly and red. “Din, oh my god-“ you shot up to grab the bacta, huffing at the mere seconds you lost from getting up and grabbing it. You fell to your knees, tears falling freely from your eyes as you willed yourself to move as quickly as possible. “You’ll be okay.” You murmured.

“I-“ Din tried to gasp out words, but was cut off by a sharp inhale of pain.

“Don’t speak, please.” Your voice was hitched with alarm as sprayed him with bacta.

“Y/n.” He was barely breathing now.

“No,” you shook your head and sprayed more bacta. “You are going to be okay. I won’t let you die out on me-“

“Cy- cyare.”

“No, Din, do not give up on me!” Your hands cradled the beskar helmet. “I can't do this without you-“

“I’m s-“ his chest barely lifted and his grip on your hand was loosening. “Sorry.”

“Din Djarin, don’t you dare-“ your eyes fell to his chest, watching it inflate one last, shaky time before settling down to a stop. His hand dropped from yours, lifeless. 

“No,” you gathered his hand in yours again. “No no no no-“ you dug through the med kit, looking for anything that could bring him back to life. Your fingers shook and your vision blurred and your heart pounded in your ears, but you still came up empty handed. You cradled his body in your arms, sobbing hysterically at the loss of the man you loved.

“Din, you stupid oblivious idiot, I loved you. I still do, and I always will.”

You shot up abruptly from your makeshift bed, nearly screaming at the sudden change of scenery. Your face was soaked with tears and your body with sweat as you regained your bearings. Your previously tense shoulders fell in relief when you couldn’t find your beskar covered companion covered in blood on the floor. 

You stood up from the floor, running a hand through your tousled hair. The fresher was a few steps away, and you walked in to come face to face with yourself in the mirror. You could see the bags hugging the bottoms of your eyes, as well as the small sheen of sweat and your red eyes from crying. Your hands shook slightly as you attempted to tame your appearance.

Your hands. 

You whipped them down and into your line of sight, flipping them this way and that to check if there was any blood. When you found none, you deemed yourself presentable enough to leave the room. 

You ventured back into the hull and through your daily chores, falling into mindless motions. You hummed a tune, hoping it would erase your previous nightmares.

It was so real. You could feel the brush of his gloved fingers, smooth and worn, smell the mix of the woods and metallic blood, see every flash of the hull lights on his beskar. You could hear his labored breathing loud and clear, even though you weren’t dreaming anymore. You could hear the nickname he’d never called you in real life but the one you’d found out was a word in Mando’a.

You shouldn’t be dreaming about this, it was crazy. You and Din weren’t- he didn’t feel the same. Din was quiet, but he was assertive. If he felt something, he would tell you. Right? Had the years of solitude caught up to him? He was never nervous, he caught people for a living. There was no way he would be worried about this. You were delusional, you decided. This was crazy and he didn’t feel the same.

You realized at that moment that you hadn’t seen Din all morning. Your breath caught again as you shoved down your fear, telling yourself it was for the better. You didn’t know what would spur from you after seeing his helmet, whether it would be waves of relief or crushing pain. 

The sound of a garble echoed from your right side, following the sound of the hull door opening. You could hear the heavy footsteps of the very man that had been occupying your thoughts all morning.

Speak of the devil. 

Your hands tightened around the sheet you’d been folding, holding your breath for the words he’d never say. You held still in the exact same position, the only part of your body moving being the rise and fall of your chest. Din’s movements slowed to a stop, and you could feel his gaze on you. “Sorry we’ve been gone,” he started, causing you to jump in surprise. “I went to take the kid for a walk.” 

Your jaw tightened, but you managed out an “it’s alright.”

He paused again. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, forcing your hands to work again at folding the sheet. 

You expected him to let it go. He always did: never pushed and prodded, just let you mellow out until your feelings subsided. But instead he came up beside you, grabbing one edge of the sheet and folding it in towards yourself. You swallowed sharply and drilled your eyes into the sheets, only nodding in thanks.

He huffed. “Y/n.”

“Din.” You responded in the same even tone.

“You're gonna tell me what’s going on? Or am I gonna have to pry?”

You grabbed his end of the sheet, finishing the fold. “Leave it be.”

“You’re not looking at me.”

You turned to place the sheet down at the edge of the bed. “Astute observation.”

He scoffed. “That’s not normal. You always look me in the eye.”

“Din,” you paused facing away from him, hands starting to shake. ”please.”

The next moments were a blur. One second he was behind you, the next he was in front of you, merely two inches away. You didn’t react quick enough, weren’t able to tear your gaze away from him. Your eyes met the thin strip of his visor, and oh boy-

The blood, running along the rim.

The way his head fell backwards in pain.

The shallow breaths, accentuated by the modulator.

“I’m- I’m sorry.”

You tore your eyes away with a startled gasp, turning and sprinting down the open hatch door. You had to get out, you had to get away from it. Everything about him was too much like a nightmare, it was too real. The image had to be imprinted onto the back of your eyes, it was so vivid. 

You willed your breath to slow and calm as you walked, but even the thought of that was hard. You ventured a little ways away from the Razor Crest, finding a nice rock expertly placed between two trees. You settled against it with a rattled sigh, gazing out into the forest. If you squinted, you could see the ocean from here: it’s shimmery sheen and the deep cobalt blue that filled it. 

The thought was calming. Seeing the wilderness in a way you hadn’t before, learning to appreciate the little things you’d been lucky enough to see and experience on this never ending ride with Din.

Din.

Shit. The calm left you as soon as it came, swept away by gnawing guilt and unsaid feelings. All those things he would have been able to experience, all of the things you needed to tell him but never quite could. It was too late.

You shot up abruptly, sending a sharp pain to your head and tunneling your vision. You shook your head with a groan, deciding to venture away from the spot that now reminded you of him. Of what you could have shown him-

No. You scolded yourself for going down that track, focusing on putting on foot in front of the other. You met the silver metal of the Razor Crest some five minutes after, leaning against it in hopes to take some of its cold for yourself. The feeling also calmed you, but you were sure it’d be gone as soon as it came. This was Din’s-

The crunching of boots cuts your thoughts short. 

You considered running. It would be fruitless, though, even if he couldn’t see your legs right now; he was undoubtedly faster than you. You considered yelling at him to stay away as well, but did you really want him to? You compromised, turning and giving him your back. You curled into yourself, hunched over slightly as he rounded the corner. 

To say Din was confused was an understatement. You’d been acting weird all morning, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done something to upset you. Even now, when he passed the last of the ship obscuring his view, you hid from his gaze. What did he do? What should he do? He didn’t like this, the cold shoulder, not one bit. He had to fix this. 

You could feel it on your back, his inquisitive gaze. You knew what the silent look meant. You sighed quietly as you waited for his evaluation, knowing he’d nail it on the dot. You waited for the quick sentence, the sounds of his footsteps squelching receding into the distance.

But he didn’t do that this time.

This time was different. He knew it, you knew it. You both knew that this wasn’t just a dream about losing your family or having to run away from your home or the kid, it was deeper, the pain was deeper. You knew from the sharp intake of his breath that he wasn’t going anywhere unless he got a real answer from you, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to give it yet. 

His hand landed on your shoulder in the midst of your thoughts, causing you to jump. “Maker, Din-“ you started your sentence, but were abruptly cut off by him spinning you around. You kept your eyes firmly at his feet, not wanting to spark another burst of panic. “Y/n.” His voice was surprisingly soft compared to his normal brisk tone.

You nodded.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s really nothing you need to concern yourself with, Din, I’ll be fine.”

He paused, and you wondered if he was going to take your sentence and leave you be. “Bullshit.”

Your eyes widened, and you nearly threw your head up to meet his visor. Din had sworn before, but never at you. “What?” 

“You heard me.” His voice was hard.

“I’m telling the truth.” You were not.

He chuckled, actually chuckled. “You’re a really bad liar, you know.”

“I know. I used to be really good.” You deflated. 

Din squeezed your shoulder. “You gotta talk about it, y/n, trust me. Solitude and nightmares are not a good combo.”

“You’re not gonna like it, Din.”

“Try me.”

Your hands clasped together so you could fidget with the ring on your finger. “It was- the kid and I were waiting for you after a mission. You were taking a while, I remember, and we were starting to get antsy. And then you came back and I was so excited to see you and I grabbed the quarry-“

“I wouldn’t let you do that.”

You huffed.

He sighed. “Sorry, go on.”

“I grabbed the quarry and put him in the carbonite chamber that you think I don’t know how to use but I do, and then I turned around,” your breaths became shaky. “You were on- on the floor. You were bleeding and you were barely breathing and you were struggling and you kept trying to talk and I was telling you to shut the fuck up because I was trying to save you and I tried and tried but I- I couldn’t. You were dead. You were gone and I couldn’t do anything and I tried everything in that stupid first aid kit, I tried the bacta and the gauze but you were- you weren’t with me and I swear my heart was ripped right out of my chest.” 

Your shoulders slumped in shame but also in relief, in letting go of that burden you’d been carrying for less than four hours but had ripped through every fiber of your being. Your declaration hung heavily in the misty air, Din not moving a single muscle. You assumed he was processing your words, but right now those very words were gnawing at your brain.

You waited patiently as he contemplated, or at least you thought he was. The slight incline of his helmet was leading you to think that, but he was slightly hard to read at the moment. You began to kick the ground as you stood rather awkwardly, not making full eye contact and rather looking over his shoulder. 

The shake of his helmet in your peripheral told you he was in fact alive and awake, easing some pressure you hadn’t even noticed was on your chest. His hand still rested on your shoulder, which twitched as if he wanted to move it but decided otherwise. “Wow.” He said finally. 

Your eyes went wide in fear. “You don’t have to say anything, we can go inside and pretend this never happened. I can do that.”

“No, no, it’s alright,” his helmet tilted up and away from your face. “That was just a lot.”

You smiled sadly, your eyes meeting the leafy ground. “Yeah.”

You two simmered in the silence for a while longer, him surely going back to thinking in his head. You didn’t know what to expect at this point: Din had surprised you so many times in the past ten minutes that you weren’t sure any of your old rules applied anymore. And frankly, that was making you very nervous. 

You were trying to train yourself for the unexpected when Din made his next move. His hand left your shoulder to cup your jaw, tilting it upwards to meet his visor. Your eyes automatically went left to trace the reflective surface of the Razor Crest, eliciting a huff. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“Because if I do, all I can see is your lifeless body and the smear of blood from where I grabbed your face.”

“Um, okay,” He frowned in defeat and then in confusion. “Wait, why are you so scared of losing me?”

You huffed. “Are you serious? Because I care about you, Din. More than I should, probably. You gave me a home, and you treated me as somebody. How could I not care, how could I not worry about losing you?”

Silence, and then-

“So you’re in love with me?” His voice was aloof, but you could hear the nervousness seeping in. 

Your head rotated to meet his visor, calculating the tilt and his stance. Your brain reeled and tried to shove your nightmares into your head, but you pushed them away from the foreground. “I am, got a problem with that?” You willed to match his tone with your own.

He drew back slightly, and you fretted, but you held your ground and waited. You weren’t going to run away from your feelings this time. He held your stare, stepping towards you. “Not at all.”

You swallowed. “Alright, I guess that’s settled.”

“Mhm.”

“So..”

“Yes?” 

Oh, so he was gonna make you say it? “Din. C’mon, don’t be this way.”

“Be what way?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“No, care to enlighten me?” You could hear the smile.

You gritted your teeth. “Fine, never mind. I’m going to check on the kid.” If he didn’t want to say it, then it wasn’t coming out.

You shook his hand from your jaw and pushed past him, making sure to bump his shoulder on the way out. Your breaths were heavy after the confessions and the lack of his own, fueling into anger as you stormed into the ship. The Child sat in his hammock, staring right at you. His pearly black eyes felt like they stared through you and relayed everything that had happened out in front of him.

You sighed, venturing over to him and sitting on the edge of Din’s cot. “What did I just do, Kid?”

He garbled eagerly.

“Yeah yeah,” you leaned against the frame. “I know.”

He garbled again. 

“Jeez, you don’t have to be rude about it! I know I fucked up.” Your eyes were shut in frustration.

The kid was silent.

“Kid?” 

The sound of the hatch door closing was the only response, and you opened your eyes to see the Mandalorian staring right at you.

Blood dripping down his-

No. Stop.

You shook your head to clear the nightmares, but it wasn’t working as well as you were hoping it would. You opted to tilting your head back again, closing your eyes. The silence ensued, and you could feel the heat of his gaze. “You gonna say something?” You asked, not moving.

“Yeah, I was.”

“Was?” You tilted your head.

“You look tired. Maybe later.”

You opened your eyes. “I’m listening.”

He sighed, and you could see him fidget with his gloves out of the corner of your eyes. “Do you know what you just declared to me?”

“That I loved you, yes.” It was out in the open now, no reason avoiding it.

“And if I say I love you too, you know what that means?”

“That we’ve got a romantic bond?” The Kid peeked over the edge of the hammock to stare at Din.

“No,” you scoffed and he glared at you. “Well, yes, obviously, but what I meant is that you’re committing to me, and vice versa. We’re bonded. For life.”

You nodded, looking at his visor, which was turned upwards. “Okay, yeah. What about it?”

“That means seeing-“ he met your gaze. “Seeing my face.”

Your eyes widened. “Your face?”

He nodded.

“No way,” You stood up and walked over to him, the shock tinting your vision. “Are you joking? Cus it’s not funny.”

“No, I’m not.” His voice sounded confused by your actions.

You pondered the hesitance in his voice with a fine toothed comb. “Do you not want to?”

“No, I want to, it’s just-“

You nodded. “No one has seen you without it.”

“No one in a very long time.” He confirmed.

“Whenever you’re ready,” you grabbed his hand. “You can tell me you love me if you do, you can take off your mask and show me that beautiful face of yours. Whenever you want, okay? I’ll be here, I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You smiled up at him, going to turn around, but then his hand was gripping your hip and halting you.

“I love you.”

Your head tilted in confusion. “But what about what you said-“

“Yeah. That’s right now.”

You full on grinned. “Really? Um, okay.”

“Are you ready?” His hands rested on the edge of his helmet.

“Never been more ready.”

And then you heard a whooshing sound, hardly audible over your pounding heart. Your hands twisted together as you waited in anticipation, excited and nervous. The prospect of putting a face to his voice and his name was thrilling, and the fact that you were the first to see his face in years? That left you with a fuzzy warmth in your stomach. 

You couldn’t pull your eyes away as the beskar was pulled upwards, revealing his face. Your gaze followed the path of the helmet as you saw his sharp jawline, the little speckles of his two day aftershave, the mustache that he seemed to be keeping in well order, the contour of his nose, his deep brown eyes, the mop of hair that was unruly but had been matted down by his helmet.

You met his eyes again, finding them on you wearily, his lip caught between his teeth as he gauged your reaction. Your breath caught at the real eye contact and the way he couldn’t conceal his feelings. You could see the nervousness in his face, even in his stance. Everything about him seemed so clear now, and you broke into a wide smile. 

“You’re beautiful.”

#i need to write for din more often #also this is so dramatic lol i apologize #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #din djarin fluff #um idk what other tags to use lol

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

my little flower

kinktober, day twenty-seven

a/n: no words, just :( because this is both so sweet and so sad and so just yummy yummy

warnings: din djarin x reader, smut, fantasy au, warrior!din, angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, long-distance relationship, there is some war going on, cuddling, cockwarming

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

Silver armour and sharp sword scattered on the floor, you couldn’t cling to the longed-for warrior fast enough when he finally returned, even if it was just for one night. Entangled in his lap, it was impossible for you to get close enough to him now that he was finally home. 

Cock embedded deep within you, throbbing as you hugged him with your warmth, “I wish you wouldn’t have to go back out there…” you uttered, head resting on his broad shoulder. 

“Oh, my little flower,” Din sighed deeply, his palm caressing over your spine as you melted further against him, “I know… if I could stop this war in a heartbeat, I would,” you bit down on the inside of your cheek, not wishing to spend what precious time you had on tears, “stay back here forever with you and never pick up a blade again.”

Eyes unfocused, you let out a low exhale, “but you have to…” knowing what would happen if he didn’t. 

“Yeah…” he sucked in a pained breath as his gentle touch continued to flutter across your skin, “just try and focus on right now… I’m here, I’m in your arms, you’ve got me, you’ve got all of me.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #kinktober 2023 #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #pedro pascal smut #star wars smut #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin au #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin x y/n #din djarin fanfiction #star wars imagine #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandolorian x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #the mandolorian x you

[cherry-writes-yanderes]

“Stay still.”

You couldn’t help it, it wasn’t exactly comfortable sitting in the lap of someone with full armor on. His deep, slightly crackled voice in your ear was another reason you couldn’t sit still. The cool beskar was pressing on your skin as you heard him let out a deep sigh, causing you to shiver slightly. “You said you wanted to try this with someone... Why not me?” He asked softly. You could feel his eyes burning through your skin, staring into your soul. You hesitated to answer as your eyes wandered over to the blaster on the floor and the Amban sniper rifle still attached to his back. This man was indeed dangerous, your brain scrambled with thoughts of how many ways this man could kill you. But instead, he chose to grab you by the hips and put you in his lap. Another sigh, this one a sigh of comfort, comes from his voice filter, his gloved hands rubbing your hips with a gentleness you never knew Mandalorians had.

“You won’t be trying this with anyone else.” He ordered, his voice still soft as not to wake the Child.

#just a little snoot to keep you guys occupied ;3 #while I catch up on requests! I promise I am!! #yandere mando #yandere mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #mandalorian #the mandalorian #yandere star wars #yandere headcanons #din djarin #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #star wars fic #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian x you #yandere din djarin #short fic #short fiction #little snoot #yandere fanfic #yandere #star wars #yandere fanfiction #cherrysmessedupthoughts #star wars yandere fic #mandalorian fanfic

[pagesfromthevoid]

Cowboy Like Me | d.d. | 8

Din Djarin x princess!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Din likes taking orders from pretty girls

Author’s Note: I am a SLUT for romance and longing touches. Click here to see the inspo for her dress and the inspo for her circlet

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

The Dress

In the following weeks on Sorgan, Din and her had fallen into a comfortable routine. He picked up work at the common house, typically small things to keep him busy. If he couldn’t find work, he resumed training with the villagers who were still interested in being able to defend themselves. 

Today, she trailed behind him, chatting his ear off about wanting to defend herself. Din didn’t think it was necessarily a bad idea, but he didn’t want to embarrass her if she wasn’t great at first. 

“Teach me to shoot,” she ordered, standing with her hands on her hips. She had taken to wearing the clothes of the village, though today she wore her travel set and holster once more. “Or are you afraid you’ll hurt my delicate sensibilities?”  

The villagers looked between the two, some of them clearly trying to hold back their laughter. However, after giving them a pointed look, they dispersed almost immediately and went on their way. Din narrowed his eyes under the helmet.

“I won’t go easy on you.”

“I would expect nothing less from a Mandalorian.”

The two locked eyes, but she refused to back down as an innocent smile spread over her face. Princess or not, she was defiant and determined to get what she wanted from him. He stepped towards the crate of weapons, picking up a lightweight blaster and looked it over. For a moment, he considered what it meant to present the gun to her –though she ruined the thought by plucking it out of his hands with far too much confidence.

“You’re going to hurt someone if you keep acting up,” he warned, turning to face her.

“You seem to be under the impression that I’ve never used a blaster before,” she countered, her smile turning into a sly grin.

“Why do I need to teach you to shoot then, princess?” 

It had taken about two weeks for him to realize that the title only made her stop talking because she liked when he said it. And when Din finally realized the effect it had on her, he certainly started to drop it in conversation more often. Truthfully, he didn’t know why she liked it when he called her by her title –usually, it was when he was feeling more snarky than usual that he used it –but he also didn’t care. 

He liked the way she looked at him when he said it. How she would lick her bottom lip just barely and look away for a moment, flustered. Then when she would turn back to him, the corner of her lip caught between her teeth to keep herself from reacting further.

He loved it.

“Because,” she explained simply, looking over the weapon in her hands. “Just because I’ve used one before does not mean I know how to use it correctly.”

“At least you’re self-aware.”

It was her turn to narrow her eyes at him, mocking offense as she stepped in front of him. “Sometimes I think you like riling me up, Mando.”

“It’s easy.”

“Keep it up,” she warned, though she had returned her gaze to the blaster to look over the safety and the trigger. “And you’ll learn that two can play at that game.”

Instead of responding, Din took the blaster from her hands and held it out in front of him. Their flirting took a step back as he began to explain the different pieces of the weapon to her, taking his time to ensure she understood. It was moments like this –where they could be flirting or teasing or whatever seconds before only for her to listen intently to his directions the next –that he knew she was something else. All she wanted was to understand, and ask questions.

He loved that too.

When he held the weapon back out to her, she took it carefully. However, his hand didn’t move from the weapon, instead moving to cover hers as he held it up.

“Don’t put your finger on the trigger yet,” he explained, standing beside her with his hand hovering at her elbow. “You need to fix your stance before you do anything.”

“How do I –,”

But Din was kneeling beside her already, spreading her legs apart carefully. His hand pressed against the back of her knee, bending it just slightly, before he pulled one foot back some. He stood slowly, one hand trailing up her thigh over her hip, then up to her elbow. She glanced over her shoulder at him as he positioned himself behind her, one hand on her elbow and the other on her weapon again. 

He leaned in close, guiding her aim towards the target. “The more you practice, the better you’ll get at aiming without my help. Which will make it easier to draw your weapon in the moment.” He pushed her finger back into the trigger position, then released his grip on her. “Fire.”

She pulled the trigger, just barely missing the target. Her shoulders sagged, disappointed in herself, as she lowered her weapon. But Din rested his hand on the small of her back. 

“Not bad for a first lesson,” he reassured, though he took the gun from her. “You need to get better at your stance and your aim will get better.”

“I think I was distracted,” she admitted, turning to look up at him. That sly grin returned. 

“You’ll have to learn to ignore distractions,” he pointed out, stepping away from her to set the blaster back in the crate. “Or you’ll get killed.”

He could feel her stare on his back, and when he turned back around, her arms were crossed over her chest. Her grin had turned into a soft smile, and she shook her head. Din raised a brow under his helmet, tilting his head to the side as she made her way over to him. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” she promised, standing on her toes and pressing her lips to the cheek of his helmet. “Let’s go find the baby and have lunch.”

Din smiled, offering his hand to her to take. It was a simple motion, one that meant more than outside eyes would understand. But she took it without hesitation, pulling herself close to his side as they returned to the village.

Grogu was with the children, chasing frogs —no doubt trying to eat one. As Din was about to scold him, she laughed and scooped the baby up and rested him on her hip. It was a hell of a sight to behold —her with his son on one hip and her other hand in Din’s. He’d never get used to it, and maybe he shouldn’t, but stars, he adored every second they had together.

Upon returning to their hut, she set Grogu down and pulled out the food that Omera had dropped off for them. They had taken to making their own food most of the time, but when the village came together, Omera would put together meals for the three of them and leave it for them. 

She had asked within the first week of living there to be taught how to prepare meals. Din thought it was genuinely hilarious to see Omera confused by her request. They had settled on not revealing her heritage —not because they didn’t trust the people, but because they didn’t want to cause a stir. It was easier to just tell Omera that she had never prepared krill before. 

Grogu started going through her bag as she set up dinner, pulling out her dress and circlet once again. Din reached out to stop him, but it was too late as the baby held up the fabric of the skirt over his face. 

“That’s not yours,” Din scolded as she walked over with two bowls, setting them on the floor where they had made their makeshift dining space. 

“He’s fine,” she promised, moving to gather the kid’s bowl and sitting on the floor. “At least someone can enjoy it.”

Din sat behind her, pressing his back against hers. She faced the entryway, and Grogu dropped the dress to climb into her lap. This became part of their routine —sitting back to back, with her watching the doorway as Din removed his helmet to eat. It was such a small thing, but it meant so much. Maybe it broke the Creed; but he wasn’t willing to admit it just yet. 

“You can still wear it,” Din suggested, resting his helmet beside him. “There’s no reason you can’t.”

“Besides the fact that I’m waist deep in a swamp every day while hiding from my mother?” She was teasing, and he could hear it in her voice. But he knew she was being serious.

“Well, yes, besides that.” He lifted his tea to his lips, taking a long sip before he shrugged. “You’re not running right now –or in a swamp. If you wanted to wear it, you could.”

“Are you asking me to play dress up for you, Din?”

“Maybe I am.”

She didn’t respond, other than a soft hum as she sipped her own tea. There was a silence that fell between them, one that often did when they were comfortable and didn’t have much else to add. Din couldn’t deny he was curious to see her, in person, dressed up in her royal regalia. The pastel green color of her gown was lovely, and he was certain it would look beautiful on her. While he was very fond of her civilian wear, he wanted to see his princess as a princess –if only once.

As he finished eating, he set his bowl to the side then took a deep breath before he slipped his helmet back on. Her back moved away from his and the floor of the hut creaked as she stood up. Wynta, Omera’s daughter, came to the door and knocked, poking her head in as Din turned around.

“Can we play with Grogu? My mama is setting up a circle to tell stories.” He glanced at Grogu, who was already waddling his way to the front door. So he simply nodded as Wynta lifted him into her arms and hurried off. “Thank you, Mando!”

Left alone now, with the sun setting, he glanced down at her. She was looking at her dress and circlet, left half pulled out of her bag. There was a longing in her eyes, one that suggested she really did want to wear it again.

“Put it on.”

“Hm?”

“I want you to put it on.”

For a moment, she simply stared at the pile of elaborate fabric, as if she was debating if she would. When she didn’t move, Din stepped around her and lifted the gown into his hands. He had removed his gloves to eat, and decided there was no reason to put them back on. The feel of the material of her dress was something he had never felt before, though it wasn’t nearly as soft as it looked. It caught the dying light of the sun, shimmering like the stars themselves. He held it out to her, though he did not push further than that.

She glanced between him and the gown, taking a breath before she motioned to the clothes she wore. Her voice shifted, as if taking on the role of princess once more. “You will have to help me, then, Mandalorian.”

Din lowered the gown, holding it tight in his fist, before he set it back down on her bag. He stepped forward, reaching out to unbuckle the holster on her thigh. While her clothing was not nearly as elaborate as his armor, he took his time to remove the belt that held the holster. When that was pulled off, he set it down neatly on the floor. Then he kneeled in front of her, running his hands down her legs, until he reached her boots and started to unbuckle those. 

They slipped off without a fight, which made it easy to take her socks off next and leave her barefoot in front of him. Her hand tilted his chin up, drawing his gaze up to her for a moment before she motioned for him to stand up. When he stood back up, staring down at her through his visor, she crossed her arms in front of herself –and simply pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor. Then, as if that was not enough to cause every part of Din to short circuit, she unbuttoned her pants and dropped them next. 

Standing before him, a thin bandeau and underwear between her being completely bare, Din’s mouth ran dry. But she was not done –she unfastened the bandeau and let it drop next, leaving her with nothing but her underwear left. Thankful for his helmet, which hid the fact that he was looking her over as if he was about to devour her entirely, he reached out, instinctively and longingly, and tried to pull her in. But she swatted his hand away. He swallowed hard, looking at her face finally.

“Give me the gown,” she ordered, nodding to the heap of fabric on the floor. 

Din did not hesitate, taking the dress from the floor, and holding it out to her. She looked unimpressed by him, taking the gown from him to slip into with ease. She shimmied it over her hips, pulling the sheer sleeves over her arms. The neckline plunged, deep enough to expose the expanse of her skin. The gold chains that accented the bodice were unhooked, and she stood before him, holding out her wrists.

“Fasten these for me, Din.”

He nodded slowly, taking her wrist in his hands and hooking the chains around her wrists together. Then, he kneeled before her again, fastening the hooks of her bodice. His hands rested on her waist when he finished, staring up at her through his visor with nothing but pure longing. Her hands rested on his shoulders, returning the intensity of his gaze. 

“I need my circlet now.”

Swallowing hard, he nodded once and stood, retrieving the piece. The feel of it in his hands was familiar, and he looked it over for a few seconds before he looked back at her. The gold on it was fading, clearly not actually made of it, but the metal underneath was a familiar cadence. Din hesitated, not sure if he should ruin the moment, before deciding against it. Then he set it on her head softly and stepped back.

She stood with her shoulders back, straight and proper, with what could only be described as a royal smile. 

“Well?” She asked, bringing her hands together in front of her.

“You are…,” but there weren’t words to describe her beauty. None that did her any justice.

“Leaving the galaxy’s best warrior speechless?” She teased, smiling at him playfully. “Do you know what I miss most about my life on Senex, Din?”

“What?”

She stepped forward, bowing far too formally for someone like him, and then held out her hand. “Dancing.”

“Dancing is a dangerous game,” he pointed out, though he took her hand anyway.

“Not anymore dangerous than what we’ve been doing,” she countered, pulling herself close to him. “Do you know how to?”

“No, but if I’m gonna teach you to shoot, I’m sure you can teach me to dance.”

———

Taglist (CLOSED): @r4iner @sgt-morgan @mingeniee @darling1darling @teriolan-blog @venusfalling @double—take @sunshine96 @demisexuallover @mxtokko @ellesvoid @waddafaknik @c-ms1ut @kokoirne @sl-ut @munsons-queen @intense-sneezing @geekrenaissance @dancealongthelightofday @tizylish @ruleroftides @aheadfullofsteverogers

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandolorian x reader #the manadalorian #din djarin imagine #mando x reader #the mandalorian imagine

[pedge-stuff]

I just had the worst and saddest possible day ever and all I wished was someone here, just to hug me under my cold covers. Can you please make something up with pedro and reader please?

I'm so sorry you are going through this?? I hope things have improved since you submitted this. Sending love your way.

—————————————————————————

okay (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked,“ per usual.

a little, plotless shorty for your troubles.

thanks, as always, for everything.

TW: a very brief mention of disordered eating

summary: sometimes, you just need to be held.

—————————————————————————

"I'm okay," you whisper. "It's okay, really. I just need a little bit."

Less than convincing.

There is a dip in the mattress behind you. Even with your eyes closed, covers pulled over your head, turned away from him entirely, you can tell he is settling against the headboard, atop the duvet.

Pedro doesn't speak. Doesn't touch you, either, but you're not really sure if you're grateful for that; sometimes, being touched when you're like this feels so intolerable, it takes your breath away. Other times, a soft touch feels like the only thing that can hold you together. Trial and error, involving a lot of shitty and unfair antagonisms, has taught Pedro to give you space before he gives you love.

This is why you suck, your brain supplies. Nothing more— your mind is too fucking tired to even dissect your insecurities properly. You just feel bad.

Not without reason; at least, not today. Three missed calls from your mother, with whom you are barely speaking to, anyways. (It turns out being engaged to Oberyn Martell is about the only thing that could cure her passive aggressive homophobia. A bit too late to be water under the bridge, at any rate.)

Three missed calls, and some really shit news.

So, you're in bed. Under the covers, hiding, as if 8:30 is a totally normal bedtime.

And things are decidedly not good.

The tears come, silent and steady.

A warm press of lips to the back of your neck startles you; hot puffs of breath where his nose is buries into the hair curled at your nape, just a moment, before pulling back. It does not feel as bad as you'd feared.

"Sorry," you croak, blindly reaching behind you; squeeze what feels like his knee, in what you hope is a marginally reassuring gesture. "I'm fine, baby, you don't have to sit here with me." Pedro is early to bed— neither of you are really night owls— but not this early.

He makes no effort to move. "Can I..." A tentative hand, between your shoulder blades.

You can't help the thin whine that accompanies your shaky exhale. Fucking pathetic. But you turn, slowly, rolling over to face him. You'd assumed he was up against the headboard, but he's shifted down now, head on the pillow beside you.

Smiling, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Wordlessly, he tucks an arm over your waist. He's always been strong, biceps as thick and sturdy as tree limbs, but the Gladiator training has added a layer of muscle just about everywhere. (Including his stomach. Abs are slowly stealing the small belly there, and while you're proud of the work he's putting in, you secretly miss the softness.)

"I don't know what you're thinking," Pedro whispers, mouth brushing against the top of your head. "But I'm so sorry, honey." He rubs the length of your spine, brow furrowing at the feeling of unfamiliar protrusions. Stress and an irregular schedule has sent good eating habits by the wayside; your body is shrinking, while his grows.

It's been the shittiest fucking month. He's been gone, you've been busy, and neither of you have gotten enough of the other. Back in New York three days now, but this is the first night you've been able to stay in together— and, of course, you've ruined it.

"Just happy to be with you," Pedro says, as if reading your mind. "Maybe this strike'll last forever, and I'll never need to go back to Morocco. Sorry, Paul Mescal."

You laugh, despite yourself, thick with tears. "I'm gonna miss the fan selfies, I think. What're they calling you? Pee-paw?"

Pedro groans, punishing you by pulling you tighter against him. Your face is squashed against his chest. Not a hardship. He smells clean, spiced. Familiar. Comfortably, and safe.

"You're engaged to the oldest man on the internet," he laments. "In Twitter years, I'm dead."

The squished hug is short-lived, breaking as he rolls back, gently, to get a better look at you. Cups your face, puffy and wet and gross; brushes twin thumbs over your cheeks, with a fond smile.

"There you are," Pedro whispers.

"I'm okay." Another sniff, but the threat of tears seems to have subsided. Today was shit, but it's over now; you're here, together, with nothing but time and sleep ahead of you.

"It's okay that you're not, sweetheart."

But you are. You're with him.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #din djarin #javier pena #javier pena x reader #din djarin x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the mandolorian #narcos

[helpinghanikan]

Star Wars: Kinktober 2023

Day 3: Face sitting (Din Djarin)

Kinktober Masterlist

As far as anyone was concerned Din was as conservative as anyone in the galaxy. Barely anyone has seen a Mandalorian without the helmet. Those that have either refuse to say what’s under it or change the answer every time.

For now, you were still in that first group. Sex hasn’t changed that either. So it was a bit of a shock when he asked you to sit on his face.

Not one to say no, you were already getting your pants off.

Your eyes were squeezed shut while Din guided you into position. When you opened them you were facing the wall of your little sleeping cubby. Although everything inside of you was screaming to lean back and get a quick look. But you weren’t the kind to take advantage.

“If it becomes too much, you better tap.” You warned him, lowering yourself down onto his face.

He was going to say something stupid; you just knew it. This was the only reason you had to place yourself down faster than you would have any other time. Hearing Din say something like; ‘this is the way’ when it comes to dying by pussy wasn’t how you wanted the evening to go.

He manages to moan out a “careful,” when you press down. His hands, free of gloves and warm as the sun, hold your thighs tightly. Squeezing them and trying to move you himself since it was hard to give you direction.

You were already hot and wet just from the suggestion. His tongue licking through your lower lips was a great start. Experimenting with your hip moving, rolling forward and back against his mouth. Letting how tightly he holds your thighs be the guide for how fast you should be moving. By the way he was holding you, he seemed to be pretty okay with you moving fast and hard as you want.

“Din, oh my God!” You call out as his tongue slides into you.

The cubby has always been too small for more than one person. Add in the nights where both you and Din sleep and the air is way too stuffy to breathe correctly. Add in when Grogu snuggles with the two of you and it’s a hard place to sleep in.

None of those times were compared to now. But you didn’t really care about the heat.

The orgasm is building from your crotch upwards. A warmth that tingles through your body until it reaches your fingers. It wasn’t like a normal orgasm when Din pounds into you from behind. That was like trying to land a plan. Focusing on all the little things that have to come together to make the climax happen.

In this instance, it’s all Din’s doing. Yes, you're moving your hips, but he had to get you to cum. It creates a sort of power he has over you.

That power starts to expand into an orgasm. Shaking through your chest and fogging up your head. The orgasm took the wind from your chest, gasping and moaning out. Your hips rocking through the orgasm until, by miracle, Din taps out.

“Good job,” You panted, maneuvering yourself off of him.

It’s only due to the force of habit that your eyes closed. You sit against the wall while Din rustles around the room, getting his helmet back on. Only then does he come closer; cool metal pressing against your forehead in an affectionate gesture.

“I’ll be sure to thank Fett when we get back.” He says, pulling you close against him.

#reader insert #Din djarin #Din Djarin x reader #kinktober 2022 #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #the mandolorian x you #the mandalorain

[oliviajdjarin]

Din Djarin: Oxytocin

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Request: via @feministfanboi  “ Shut up shut up shut up this is SO HOT I need moreeeee I need the hunt riling him up so that she asks him to use her to let off team (steam) and then once they wind down a bit he takes his time making her come undone more the way he wants to treasure her (bonus points if the armor stays on the first round but he walks her through taking it off him afterwards). I'm so happy I found your writing and can't wait to read everything you've written for the hottest tin can.”

Excerpt: “The granite was cold against your legs, causing you to release a small gasp. Din sat you down quickly and held you by your waist, pressing his chest against your own. The metal was lukewarm through your shirt.

“Tell me you don’t want me to stop,” he whispered, using one hand to keep you steady and the other to pry open his weapons belt.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you replied, and his belt dropped to the floor. He began removing his pants next.“

Tell me you want this.”

“I want this.”

“Good,” he responded, a husk already in his voice. “Because I fucking need this.”

Warnings: smuuuuuut, dom din but actually dom reader, rough sex, unprotected sex, kind of a size kink, descriptions of scarring and concussions, swearing, very off canon, zero foreplay, probably unsanitary fingering, a soft ending.

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Thank you for your patience on this request @feministfanboi I hope you like it.

Pedro Masterlist 

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

You had known the Mandalorian for a decade, but Din Djarin for only a month.

And it had been the best month of your life. 

After years of fighting for jobs, clients, pucks, a seat at the table - any table - Carga had finally had what he called his “stroke of genius.”

“The two of you,” he said, the two of you seated uncomfortably close in a cantina booth. “Together.”

“Together?” you questioned.

“Together,” he repeated.

You and Din just sat and stared. Not saying a word.

“I’ll pay you triple,” he said finally.

Turns out, it was a stroke of fucking genius.

After ten years of constant competition between the two of you, you understood each other’s minds better than anyone else in the galaxy. Your weak spots. The way you fought. The way you planned. The way you hunted. The way you reacted when an enemy caught you by surprise, and the way you recovered. Because of this constant unconscious education between the two of you, you were perfectly complimentary. Working off each other without even needing to speak the words - catching on when one was winded and needed to be covered, understanding when one could forge ahead and the other could guard from behind, and most importantly, when the other was injured.

Injured enough that their body literally could not go on, in Din’s case.

You had slowly begun to learn all his small quirks as well - how he would kill for a homecooked meal after a long mission, how his lower back region always tended to bother him after a lot of running, and how, no matter what, the weapons closet always remained pristine. 

Pristine. 

You wished you could recreate the noise he let out when he found your weaponry beginning to spill over into his half of the cupboard.

After a month of slowly cooling your personal vendetta against the bounty hunter who always seemed to be one step ahead of you, it had become...comfortable. Weirdly, exquisitely comfortable. The type of comfortable that didn’t require a constant dialogue between the two of you. It was enough to just sit, watch the stars, ask each other a few questions you had always wanted to know, and then allow the silence to permeate once more. It was more than enough.

You wish Carga had this stroke of genius years ago. It felt good to be known, admired, then chipped at with questions in order to be known some more.

You had a feeling Din felt the same way.

With a new round of pucks in your pockets with targets in the general area of Coruscant, you were grateful to be known, even just a little bit. You needed it for that dung-hole of a planet.

The first puck was a knock-out - some big-wig’s daughter ran off with a guard of hers, proclaiming that their love was stronger than any alliance an arranged marriage would bring, demanding the daughter be set free from the “chains of bureaucracy,” etc.

Your eyes got a fierce rubbing after skimming that report.

Din asked to do this job alone - claiming it would be easy enough for one person, and that he was in desperate need of some fresh air. You appreciated his honesty, smiling at him politely while your brain deciphered the sentence using your growing encyclopedia of Din-Djarin-code.

I need some alone time.

You tended to agree. Some time alone would do you good, clear your head, revitalize you. Your temporary lodging was nice enough - a full kitchen, bath, and two bedrooms. You were almost looking forward to it.

You helped him clean his weaponry as well as you could, learned his plan for the capture inside and out, and sent him on his way with a blaster in one hand and a dozen credits in the other.

You placed an internal bet that it would take him no longer than a day at the most, a few hours at the least. You began to prepare a meal for him when he returned, full of peppers and seasoned, well-marinated chicken. 

Maker, if past you could see you now.

The meal was coming along well - the smell of cayenne, garlic, and sweet peppers filling the hut, carrying you away to a time before you knew the taste and texture of blood - when an object hit the side of the shelter. You could tell it was a blaster by its unique clang. You had no time to even flinch before the circular front door opened up like a spider web set aflame.

Din stood straight and tall, looking straight at you, before stomping into the bathroom and closing the door.

“Mando?” you questioned, walking slowly to the door. You pressed your ear against the wood, listening for a response.

Nothing.

You realized that, despite all that you had learned of him in the past month, you hadn’t learned how he raged. You could feel it on your skin, a cool, chilling, silent seething that imbued even through a solid door. You couldn’t label what endorphins the feeling was sending through your brain, nor the stirring in your lower stomach.

Maybe you just didn’t want to. 

“I’m going to open the door,” you stated, and waited for a rebuttal.

Nothing.

You sighed and pulled the door open slowly until it was only ajar, and found Mando seated against the bathtub, head in his hands. His shoulders were so tense and high they touched the area of his helmet that covered his ears. His breathing was heavy and quick, making it apparent that he was slowly simmering.

This position was eerily similar to the one he was in when he told you his name.

He had gotten hit in the head hard - very hard - and sat himself on the edge of a bathtub in the exact same way - head in his hands, shoulders tight, breathing rapid. He was so dizzy he couldn’t keep his head up, mumbling something about a rogue trandoshan that got him right under the chin. You prepared an ice pack for him, as well as pain meds and a warm water bottle, when he muttered something incomprehensible.

“What?” you asked, turning around to look at him.

He muttered the same thing again.

“Mando, I can’t understand you.”

“The trandoshan got away,” he said, and just as he began to slowly tip forward, he mumbled something else. “And my name is Din.”

Neither of you ever brought it up. You wondered if he even remembered it. 

Maybe today would be that day.

“What happened?” you asked him quietly, and he responded quickly.

“I had her,” he said, “I fucking had her.”

You walked into the bathroom and kneeled in front of him, looking up into his visor. A silent invitation. 

“He was with her. Her guard,” he continued. “And I saw the way he...the way he looked at her. He was ready to fight me. He was ready to kill himself if it meant she had even a few seconds head start. He didn’t even hesitate.”

A beat of silence passed between you.

“And I just...I couldn’t do it.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you saying you let them go?”

Another beat of silence passed before he nodded.

“Why?” you questioned.

“Because...” he started, and then looked up at you. You could feel his eyes burning into your own. “...because I couldn’t stop seeing you in her.”

He was still full of rage, sending chills down and across your spine, but a softness came over him in that moment. A softness that almost scared you, because you knew what he meant. You knew what he was trying to say.

I would do the same for you. 

Suddenly, the feeling in your lower stomach made sense. The endorphins flooding your brain made sense. The want to give him comfort made sense. The depth of your need to see him for what he was and understand the exact plans of his jobs and the inability to relax when he was gone made so much fucking sense. 

Despite the fear of how this mutual understanding would change your relationship, the anxiety of not knowing what to do next, and the shock of being wanted, you smiled. Despite it all, you smiled, and you stood.

His rage was still permeating, his body was still clenched, like he needed something to funnel his anger into. A vessel to work it onto, to bleed it out of himself.

You slid your thumb across his cheekbone, drunk on your ability to always know exactly what he needed, and whispered, “Din.”

A visible chill went down his own body when that word passed through your lips.

You leaned forward slightly, and said, “Use me.”

He looked at you then - really looked at you - before standing up completely. You didn’t know if you had ever stood this close to him, his broadness and masculinity washing over you as the size difference between the two of you was highlighted more than usual.

You liked it a lot more than you thought you would. 

At the same time, however, a bead of anxiety dripped into your brain. Questions on whether or not you overstepped, or read him wrong, or crossed a line joined the wonderous high in your overwhelmed brain.

Instead, Din replied, “I knew you heard me,” before lifting you by your waist, carrying you across the lodge, and setting you on the kitchen counter.

The granite was cold against your legs, causing you to release a small gasp. Din sat you down quickly and held you by your waist, pressing his chest against your own. The metal was lukewarm through your shirt.

“Tell me you don’t want me to stop,” he whispered, using one hand to keep you steady and the other to pry open his weapons belt. 

“I don’t want you to stop,” you replied, and his belt dropped to the floor. He began removing his pants next.

“Tell me you want this.” 

“I want this.”

“Good,” he responded, a husk already in his voice. “Because I fucking need this.”

He pulled his pants down completely, one piece of cloth now separating you from him. Sweat dripped down your back and heat pooled in between your thighs at the thought. You itched to touch his skin already, thinking back to the uncountable amount of times you had dreamed of his body. What it looked like, smelled like, felt like.

Maker, if past you could see you now.

Din seemed to be in a haze, not even hesitating to remove his underwear and let himself free, and not even noticing how your eyes widened at the sight of him.

Maker. 

He didn’t give you any time to process before tearing off your own shorts and underwear in one go, and immediately lining himself up. He held you close to him, his gloved hands working their way into your hair to keep you pressed against his chest. His hands on you were demanding, yet dancing across your body with a gentleness you had come to know only recently. It set your insides aflame. You reached your arms around his waist and tucked your face into his neck, desperation to be as close to him as physically possible crawling across your skin.

“Take a breath,” he whispered, before he entered you without a drop of mercy. 

He slid home so quickly you couldn’t even release a noise before he started pumping in and out ruthlessly. Practically splitting you in half, impailing you with heat, rapture, and a wholeness that had every speck of oxygen leaving your lungs. You could feel yourself dripping onto the hardwood floor, spit beginning to paint his armor with sinful beads, and your head spinning so fiercely you could only describe your feelings to him with whines.

Din, on the other hand, had seemingly unlocked a flapping tongue.

“Maker,” he grunted, zero qualms against noise or depth. “Y/N, I’m inside you, fucking shit.” 

His pace grew more relentless, the heat of pleasure beginning to drip down your legs and feet, toes curling at the sensation. He kept you pressed against his chest, sweat and metal filling your nose, giving you whiplash at how fast your life had flipped in the manner of minutes.

His fingers crept down to your clit, pressing and rubbing against it slowly, then pulling away, and repeating the process. You whined right where you imagined his ear might me, gripping his cape until your knuckles were milk white.

“Fucking wanted you in my ear like this since I first saw you,” he whispered to you, like he wanted no other soul to hear, only you. “Made me feel so fucking dirty, so fucking gross, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop. You were in that fuck grey jumpsuit you always wear…shit…and your boots. Couldn’t get you out of my head.”

You were near tears at this point, your body trembling and your mind warping at the thought of him wanting you like that - like this - for so long.

“Always a pain in my ass,” he groaned, his pace deepening as he found new crevices and waves inside you that had you scratching down his back. Your nails dug in so fiercely your ears rang with the sound, effectively leaving likely permanent markings on his back. 

You dug your nails in harder.

You arched your back, beginning to meet his pace with the roles of your hips.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned. “You like me talking about you, don’t you? How your legs look in those damn tight cargo pants, how your hips fill them perfectly, how your shirts hug you so fucking right I can’t help but picture it the moment my eyes close.”

Tears are leaking from your eyes now, his fingers torturing your clit and his cock hitting a place inside you you didn’t even know existed until him. You wished to kiss him as you came, kiss all around his face and neck, breathe in his panting breaths, exchange tastes.

Instead, you pressed small kisses across the armor atop his collarbone, panting and whining louder and louder.

“You’re...you’re so tight around me. Look so beautiful with me in you.”

Your head fell back, any blood to your brain was miniscule, and the edge of the cliff was inches within reach.

“Din,” you groaned, almost pathetically. “Din please.”

“I’ve got you, come on mesh’la,” he whispered, “Let go for me. Come undone for me.”

And you did. With one last snap of your hips against his, you came. You could not make any noise, only capable of dropping your head forward onto his chest, squeezing his cape so tightly you could have sworn you heard a tear, and basking in the wave of warmth that flooded your body from your brain to your feet. Your mind was muddled - coated in pleasure, only pleasure, and only him. Your muscles ached with it, twitching and clenching in such ecstasy that you wondered if you would ever speak again.

It was proven that you could when Din pulled out of you faster than you could blink. The emptiness of it made you whimper like a child.

“Din, what -”

“I’m not done,” he said huskily, the cool rage and high intensity obviously not worked out of him. He pulled your limp body into his arms and tossed you onto the couch, pinning you on your stomach with his hips. Your body felt ruined, exhausted and devoid of all energy and vigor. Din didn’t seem to mind.

He held onto your hips, angling them so that his still pulsing member was lined up just right, before pulling you close enough to him to whisper into your ear.

“That woman who taunted me for a decade, outsmarted me constantly, stole my fucking jobs,” he whispered, breathing so heavily through his modulator you could barely understand him. “She’s mine now, isn’t she?”

Your aching, mindbogglingly sensitive cunt pulsed for him - was helpless for him. You whined, pressing yourself back against him for some sort of friction. Din stopped you, halting your hips with the strength of his fingers alone. 

“Isn’t she?” he questioned once more.

You nodded profusely. “She is.”

“That’s what I thought,” he mumbled under his breath, and pierced you with his cock once again.

You could tell he was chasing his own high, practically clamoring for it as he railed himself into you like a man fucking for his own life, and with your heat already beginning to sore, you felt the rise of your own once again.

You wanted him to come - all over you, inside of you, every inch of skin you possessed. You wanted it now. 

So, you resorted to the only way you could connect with him up to this point - your words.

“You didn’t have this armor yet,” you whispered, reaching back to push his helmet into your neck as you began to meet his thrusts with your hips. Shirt so full of sweat it was translucent. “You had this helmet though.”

His pants became whimpers.

“Fucking loved looking at your thighs, every time our paths crossed,” you continued, a wicked smile etching itself onto your face as you spoke. “And when you got this shiny shit - maker - fucking lost my quarry to you that day. I remember that. You wanna know why?”

You could hear his gulp.

“Because I wanted you like this - behind me, ruining me, making me sweat, panting in my ear, coming inside of me, all with that fucking armor on.”

He was slowing down, but getting deeper and harder. Like his cock was even begging you to go on.

“Din,” you whispered, meeting his thrusts head on, “come inside me.”

And he did. He filled every inch you wanted him too, and held you close as he did. Rubbing designs across the skin of your stomach underneath your shirt. Massaging your scalp. Whispering verses of mando’a you couldn’t recognize. All while fucking you through his orgasm.

You smiled, eyes closed, letting the stars behind your eyes overtake your vision, and the feeling of him inside you overtake your every sense.

He slowed down as the last of his cum painted itself across your cunt and thighs, but he remained inside you as he collected his breath, and you collected your own. He squeezed your hips.

“You okay?” he questioned, sex dripping across his tone.

You nodded, swallowing thickly. “More than okay.”

He coughed out a chuckle - one that was full of disbelief, joy, and maybe a little fear - before he slowly pulled out of you. You dug your nails into his helmet at the feeling, unconsciously chasing him with your hips, but he delicately set you down on the couch completely. You braced yourself on the arm rest, your body nearly giving out on you from the transition of full to empty, whole to half, complete to ripped apart.

You wiped the sweat that had culminated on your lip before turning to look behind you, expecting Din to still be sitting, flexing those delicious thighs, getting used to the feeling of emptiness himself.

Instead, you found him already standing, heading into the kitchen, and beginning to slide his underwear back on.

“What are you doing?” you asked, sex present in your voice as well.

Din didn’t respond, only looked up at you as he began to button up his pants.

“The sun’s setting,” you stated, “you never wear your armor when you sleep.”

“I do when...when it’s necessary,” he refuted.

“When it’s necessary?” you questioned, turning your aching body around to face him completely, wincing. “What are you talking about?”

He remained looking at you, his breath slowing slowly from the rapid pace it was before. “I didn’t...I didn’t know if you would be...comfortable...seeing me like that. After...all that.”

You looked him up and down, a small smile coming to your face.

“I just didn’t know,” he repeated, “I wanted to respect that.” Your smile grew big enough to reach your eyes.

“Come here,” you whispered, gesturing to the empty space on the couch next to you he occupied only seconds ago, and he obeyed. He sat down gently, inhaling deeply when you unbuttoned everything he had rebuttoned. 

“You’re very sweet,” you said, smiling up at him, your lips tingling with the urge to kiss every inch of his visor, “but I always want to see you without all this.” You knocked twice on the beskar covering his chest, the echo it caused over the metal loud in your ears. “You act more like you.”

He said nothing, just kept breathing. 

You removed his pants before bringing your hands back up to his metallic covered chest, gaze connecting with his, and asking, “May I?” 

It felt stupid. Frivolous. Downright ridiculous that you were asking to take off his armor after he spent the better part of an hour cracking you open. Still, he had proven he respected you, he deserved the respect back.

After a beat, he nodded, and you began taking off each and every piece of his armor, and setting each piece down delicately on the floor. Halfway through, he began to chuckle, and you chuckled with him. 

“What?” you asked, a wide smile returning to your face.

“Nothing,” he defended, “I just thought I’d have to teach you how to do this.”

You connected your gaze with his once again. “In case you haven��t noticed yet, I know you pretty well.”

He hummed, contentedly. Your gazes, however, did not disconnect.

You couldn’t help yourself in that moment. Maybe it was the oxytocin still flooding your brain, or the high that comes with physical exercise, or the pleasure of just sitting there, talking with him, but the question that had always been on the tip of your tongue finally wiggled free.

“What color are they?” you asked. “Your eyes?”

You wished you could see a centimeter of his face, a millimeter, even a shadow, because you could not read him. He was frozen, yet positioned confidently, more vulnerable than you had ever had him, yet the most expressive part of his body remained covered in the strongest metal in the galaxy.

He played it safe with his reply. “Guess.”

You smiled, relieved as the rope of tension slithered off of you, “purple.”

“Close.”

“Green?”

“Closer.”

“Blue?”

“Not quite.”

“Perfect,” you said before you could stop yourself, “I’ll bet their perfect, whatever color they are.”

You looked away, removing the rest of his armor until he was only down to just his helmet, when he finally said, “Brown. They’re brown.”

You looked into where you hoped his eyes were and said, “That suits you.”

He hummed again.

He was down to his undershirt and underwear, practically naked in your eyes. You knew he slept without a shirt on. You had no proof of it - no quick glance into his room in the dead of night, a comment he made that you stored away for use later, nothing. You just knew he did. 

Your final thought before slipping your fingertips underneath the cloth material was I have everything to lose.

His skin was smoother than expected, sprinkled with a thick layer of hair just under his belly button, as well as a small scar deep enough for the skin to protrude just so. It was warm, homey, right.

You looked up at him as your fingers crawled higher and higher, slowly slipping the entirety of his shirt over his head. He never made a sound. Only raised his arms for you, silently egging you on. Like his body was saying you wouldn’t. 

I would, your fingers replied as you slipped his shirt completely off. 

He was tanner than you expected, sprayed with moles, tinted with scars, and muscles so defined and so him you swore he was airbrushed. Molded by a material of softness and perfection. 

Your fingers looked perfect splayed across his chest.

You realized, as your fingers explored his chest hair, that his body was slowly sinking in on itself. He was closing himself off without words. Not in a way that showed he was not enjoying himself, but in a way that showed he had enough defenselessness for one night.

You tended to agree.

You smiled, and pulled him into your arms, laying yourself flat on your back, and allowing him to completely shield your body with his own. Lay his full weight on top of you. 

“Y/N -”

“Sleep here,” you pleaded, “let’s sleep here.”

He allowed his body to slink and settle itself upon you, sliding his hands underneath your back, sweeping your legs from under you so he could wrap them up in his own.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he stated, and you laughed.

As the sun fully set, his skin became littered with stars instead of streaks of sun, and the weight of what had happened between the two of you finally settled upon both your body and your mind.

You had him in your arms. In your body. In your soul.

Finally.

With tears in your eyes, you asked yourself one final time.

Maker, if past you could see you now. 

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#din djarin imagine #DINOvember #DIN #UGH DIN #dincember #din x reader #din djarin #din djarin fluff #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandolorian fanart #the mandalorian smut #star wars fanfiction #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

[flowersforjude]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐀 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | A day at the market with you and the kid has Din going over all the reasons he’s falling in love with you.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1,253

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | None, just some soft Din. There’s some pining and whatnot.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I’ve jumped on the Pedro Pascal train with the premiere of The Last Of Us and I binged both seasons of The Mandalorian in two days, so expect much more Din Djarin, Joel Miller, and Pedro Pascal content. For those of you who follow me for my Elvis stuff, don’t worry. E is still top on my list and he won’t be going anywhere.

masterlist | read on ao3

He has to keep stopping himself from reaching for your hand. His glove-clad fingers itch to wrap themselves around yours. He wants to feel the warmth from your skin seeping into his through his gloves. He wants to pull your body closer to his so that your shoulders touch as you walk around the market.

You’re talking about something funny the kid did the night before, and he finds himself struggling to pay attention. Not because you're boring him but because the very sound of your voice makes him lose concentration. Your soft lilt is so captivating and hypnotic. It’s like the whole world stills, and the only thing that matters is the ethereal sound of you speaking.

“And then he–oh Din, look at this!” You gasp as you halt in front of a booth selling textiles.

A blue blanket embroidered with green designs along the edges hung in your arms. It looked to be made of some kind of thick material. Sure to keep you warm in the coldness of space.

“It’s perfect for him, don’t you think?” You smile brightly as you lift it up to inspect it properly. Din has to force himself to keep breathing.

Your gaze goes down to the child held in Din’s arms. The creature in question locks eyes on the blanket and immediately reaches for it. He coos up at you as if asking for permission to touch it. You giggle softly and nod to let him know it was alright.

“I think he likes it,” you laugh. “We should get it. He needs a new one anyway.”

He knows this isn’t true. He knows back on the Crest there is a pile of blankets stacked in one of the cubbies under his bunk. He knows that they got there because of situations like this. “He has many blankets already, cyar’ika.”

Din knows you know this as well, but you’re so enamored by the kid that you just can’t help yourself. Din is too, though; that’s why there’s a growing collection of children's things on the Crest. At some point, you guys are going to have to stop spending so many credits on things like this. But the happiness he can see from you and the kid overrides all else.

You huff playfully and fix him with a look he knows will ruin him. “Yeah, but do you know what that means?” You ask. “It means we’re the best parents in the galaxy.”

He can’t help the grin tugging at his lips under his helmet. His parents.

You two were not a couple, but you’d been with him almost as long as the child. You had first met on Tatooine. He was there on business and had gone to the cantina in hopes of buying some information he was in need of. Instead, he found you pressed against the back wall by some lifeform you clearly didn’t want the attention of. He came to your aid despite hardly ever doing so before. He blamed the kid for making him go soft. You had thanked him profusely, and he was just going to leave it at that, needing to get back on track. But the surprised gasp leaving your lips at the sight of the child poking his head from the bag made it clear that wasn’t happening.

One thing led to another, and you were watching over him while Din went about his business on the desert planet. When the time came to leave, he shocked you and even himself by asking you to join him. His excuse being he was in need of a full-time babysitter for the kid. In the back of his mind, Din knew this was going to be the start of something troublesome.

That’s how he found himself where he stood now. Sighing as he took the heavy blanket from you. “I’ll buy it. Go look around a bit more; we’re leaving soon.”

You beam up at him and skip off to a nearby booth, the items laid out have your full attention. He’s extremely thankful his helmet hid the love-struck look that possessed his face at the moment.

He glimpsed a pair of brown leather gloves lying on the booth. They looked to be your size. His mind traveled back to a few days ago, when you’d mentioned you could use a new pair. Something about how there was a hole in one of the fingers.

Should he?

He glances down at his son to find him already looking up at him. The baby can read the situation far too well. His gaze on Din is practically dripping with expectations. His little green head turns from his father to the woman he sees as his mother and back again. “Stop it,” Din mutters. He paid the vendor for both items and looked around for where you had bounded off to.

That was something Din had come to love about you. Your endless energy. It was a strong contrast to the tiredness he often felt, but in the time you’d been with him, he felt your spirit rubbing off on him. He also noticed that he smiled more. Before, he didn’t have anything to warrant smiling frequently, but with you by his side, he found he did. You had brightened the light in his life that had already reappeared with the kid.

He found you at a booth that seemed to sell children's toys. You began to enthusiastically wave him over once you found him in the crowd. He shook his head and chuckled as he walked in your direction.

“Find anything else?”

You take a quick glance over the items before turning to him. “No, let’s go home before I spend all my credits on kids toys,” you laugh.

Home. Your home.

He tries and fails to keep the fuzzy warmth from spreading through him. As a Mandalorian, the most important thing to him was family. You and the kid were his family, and his main mission in life now was to protect you both. He’d been so sure that you only saw him as a place to lay your head. Employment, and maybe after all this time, a friend. But here lately, with his feelings growing and you doing things like calling the Crest home, hope started to sprout in him that possibly you felt more.

“What do you have there, little one?”

The sudden question had Din jerking his head downward to the child. Sure enough, your gloves were being waved around in his tiny green hands. You take the gloves from him and look closely at them. Your brows come together as you tilt your head to the side.

“These aren't mine,” you state. “They're way too new looking, and they’re too small for you..”

He remained silent while you spoke, and only once you trailed off did he clear his throat.”Very keen observations, cyar’ika.”

Your face became even more confused at his bad joke.

“Did you get me new gloves, Din?”

“Yeah.” He has to clear his throat once again. “I remember you mentioned you needed new ones.”

He tries to pretend he doesn’t notice his pulse quicken when you look at him like he hung the stars. It’s when you look at him with that that he has to stop the urge to rip his helmet off and kiss you breathless.

“You are the kindest man in the galaxy.” You say softly.

He’s not, but he hopes he’ll be enough for you one day.

I hope you guys enjoy this! I thought something short and sweet would be a good way for me to begin writing for Pedro and his characters. More to come soon!

#pedro pascal #the mandolarian #din djarin #din dijarin x reader #din dijarin fanfiction #the mandolorian x reader #star wars #star wars imagine #pedro pascal imagine

[entitled-fangirl]

His perfect little Cyar'ika.

Din D'jarin x reader

Summary: Mando had been gone too long, leaving the reader to worry. She has a breakdown, and he comes back in time to comfort her.

Words: 1,634

Warnings: Makeout session, sad thoughts, lots of crying (mostly from me, but the reader too, ig)

Author's note: This is now my all-time favorite one I've written and I stand by that.

Masterlist

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

It had been days.

Days since her Mandalorian had left on a hunt. She had patiently waited the four days he reassured her it’d be. Here she was on Day 6, anxiously awaiting his return. 

The sound of the child brought her from her thoughts.

She walked to the cot, picking him up. He was a sweet thing, his large eyes always looking at her in love. She was head over heels for this little guy. The day he would be returned to his kind would be the day she is ruined.

She walked with him for a bit until his breathing calmed, signaling he had fallen asleep. She gently set him down in his cot again, admiring his sleeping form.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there. She’s brought out from her thoughts again by the feeling of a tear running down her face. She’s crying, and she hadn’t even realized it. 

She walks away from the child’s sleeping area, not wanting to wake him. The door shuts behind her, but that’s as far as she makes it. She collapses on the hard metal floor of the ship, a loud sob leaving her lips.

She felt vulnerable. Alone. Scared. Anxious. Above all else, she just wanted her Mandalorian to return. She pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her forehead against them, letting the sobs comes out freely. 

Mando was an unusual man… if he was a man. She wasn’t sure what he was, but she knew he was strong and courageous. He had shown that time and time again. His heart, while shown as one of stone, was actually quite vulnerable and caring. She loved that about him. She loved his voice. She loved his mannerisms. She loved HIM.

She doesn’t hear the bay doors open to the ship. And she doesn’t hear Mando step up them. What she does hear is a soft, “Mesh’la?” His voice coming through the modulator.

Her head snaps up in fear and surprise. She’s ecstatic to see her Mando, but beyond that, embarrassed to be caught crying so harshly. She quickly stands, her hand wiping at her face. “I’m sorry, Mando. I’ll go get cleaned up,” she says, her voice broken by the hiccuping of her diaphragm.

She takes four steps before his gloved hand grabs her wrist. 

“No.”

She turns her body around to look at him. No? What did he mean? 

Mando wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he knew it felt right. His heart dropped at the sight of her body racked with her sobs. He worried about how long she had been like this. Her glossy eyes brought a dreaded feeling in his stomach he hadn’t felt before. But even then, her eyes puffy and red, her face covered in tears, she was still beautiful to him. She always had been. He wished he could rip his helmet off every day just to see her sweet features without the filter. Comfort wasn’t his strong suit, but he’d have to make do now.

A silence ensues as they stare at each other.

He’s the first to break. “Sit.”

It’s not a question. If it was a question, he’d have asked it differently. No, this is a command. She knows him well enough to know he only commands when they’re in danger, or he’s scared. But she also knows not to ignore his commands, so she does so, moving her body to sit on a nearby crate. 

He follows her, kneeling in front of her. “Mesh’la,” his voice comes through the helmet, “What has happened?”

She shakes her head, embarrassed to admit her faults. Her hands wipe at her face again, trying to keep her composure.

He heaves a sigh, barely heard by her. “Tell me.”

Another command. “I… it’s… it’s nothing. I was being childish… and… it… I’m sorry…” A soft sob raked through her body, as hard as she had tried to fight it.

His hand comes up to rest on her leg, a silent sign of comfort from him, but also a sign to continue.

This makes her weep, letting out all of the feelings she was trying to bottle up. “You... you left… and I was… I tried… you didn’t come back and I… worried… I was so worried…,” each sentence stopped by a hiccup.

If only she could see the smile under his mask. “Mesh’la, you worried for me?”

The tears didn’t stop, and it didn’t seem that they would be stopping anytime soon. He did what his head told him to, as ridiculous as it sounded. But she needed something to ground her, and fast.

He pulled a glove off of his hand and took her hand in his, rubbing the top of her hand gently.

She stared in disbelief at him. “The... your… your code…?”

He said nothing, still rubbing small circles on her hand.

He thought it would help, but it didn’t seem to because she continued to cry. His mind went into overdrive.

He pulled her from the crate gently and into his lap. His arms wrapped around her shaking frame as he pushed her gently into his armor. 

She gladly accepted, resting her head in the crook of his neck between two plates of beskar.

He closes his eyes at the feeling. Only a piece of fabric separates her skin from touching his. Never in his life had he considered breaking the code. But if keeping it meant a life without her, then by god would he break it. 

His ungloved hand ran through her hair before his calm voice came back, “close your eyes.”

She lifted her head up. “..w…what?” She sniffled.

His gloved hand touched her cheek. “Close your eyes, Mesh’la. Trust me.”

She does so without another word. She was a sweet thing. He was so corrupt. He worried he may ruin her. But he couldn’t worry about that now.

He checked to make sure her eyes were closed before both of his hands reached up, taking off his helmet carefully.

More tears escaped from her closed eyes, but she heard the sound, and she knew what he was doing. “Mando?”

A soft kiss is pressed to her neck.

“Din.”

A sharp breath from her, “What?”

She feels his smile against her neck. “Din. I’m not Mando to you anymore. Not ever again.” His lips move up her neck towards her jaw, placing a light kiss there.

She lets out a soft breath, relaxing in his touch. His scruff lightly scratched at her as his lips trailed to her face. He pulled back suddenly, his touch gone. She longed to open her eyes, but she knew better.

He simply stared at her beautiful face. God, was she a beauty. He stared at her enough with the helmet but now? He never wanted to put it on again. He wondered if her eyes were as bright as he imagined. She was perfect. His perfect little Cyar’ika.

She sat still, focusing on her breathing. Staring at the back of her eyelids was never really a difficult prompt until she was put into this situation. She didn’t know what he was thinking, and she couldn’t see his face to know. She couldn’t even look at his body language. She was completely blind and it worried her. 

Perhaps he was regretting what he was doing. Maybe he was thinking about what planet he should leave her on now that she’s caught feelings. But the silence in the room was killing her.

He was in heaven. If heaven was real, this was it for him. Her beautiful face her in front of him, seeking his comfort. Worried for him. God, she was worried for him. No one had ever said such words, and his heart was overjoyed when they were muttered. 

She broke the silence, her voice soft and worried, “D…Din?”

He couldn’t take it anymore. His ungloved hand moved to the back of her head quickly, pulling her in for a kiss. The other hand rested on her hip.

She jumped at the feeling, his facial hair tickling her face. It took a few moments to register what was happening before she began to kiss him back.

She wanted to run her fingers through his hair. Pull at it. Rest her hands on his face. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t overstep his boundaries.

God, he wanted her to overstep all his boundaries. His other hand moved to one of hers, pulling it up his torso to his face.

It’s like he could read the girl’s mind. The one hand resting on his cheek, feeling the scruff there, while the other found its way to the base of his neck, pulling at the soft curls that lay there.

He groaned. He had never had this feeling before. She was perfect, so perfect. He would let her ruin him any day.

She was the first to pull away, out of breath. She panted, her eyes still closed, her lips puffy and face slightly red.

He was smiling brighter than the sun.

“Thank you, Cyar’ika.”

She let out a soft groan. His voice was so beautiful. It’s as if he had hung the moon for her. “For what, Din?”

She could hear the smile in his voice for the first time ever, “I’m not quite sure.”

The sound of the child crying brought them both to reality. He let out a content sigh, reaching for his helmet. 

He couldn’t wait to take it off again.

#the mandolorian #star wars fandom #star wars fanfiction #mandolarian fanfiction #mando x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #mando #mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #star wars imagine #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine

[bbygirlpascal]

Caught (Pedro Pascal x Fem Reader)

REPOSTING THIS AGAIN: accidentally deactivated my account cause I'm truly a dumb bitch.

18+ NSFW: Please don't interact with my page/posts if you are under 18.

Summary: You remember the last time you and Pedro showered together, and since Pedro isn't home yet you do the deed alone until you realize who is in the doorway...;)

Getting home and taking all this winter clothing off and getting into a hot shower is all you needed right now. It’s the dead of winter and you simply could not take it anymore. You’re so sick of waking up and being freezing the second you step out of the door. Pedro was shooting a project in Calgary and although you enjoyed staying with him throughout the filming, you could not wait for it to be over so you could both be back in that California sunshine.

You got prepped for your shower, putting on your favorite music to belt out to. Letting the anger of dealing with this bitter cold wash away as the steam swirled around you. You couldn’t help but remember the last time you were in this shower with Pedro. The way his hair clung to his face as it got wet. How he rolled his head back as he washed his hair. His manhood glistening with droplets of water splashing off of it. You felt your core pulse just at the thought of it.

Stepping out of the shower, still aroused at the thought of Pedro, you made you way over to your bed. Pedro wouldn’t be home for at least another couple hours so you took things into your own hands for the time being. Opening your bedside drawer you pulled out your toy and clicked it on. You took off your towel and tossed it to the side of the bed. Your skin chilled from the cool air in the house, making your nipple hard. You guiding the toy to your aching core, a moan quickly escaping your mouth as soon as it came in contact with you.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back into your pillows, fully immersed in this euphoric feeling. You grabbed at your nipple for extra satisfaction. Letting the toy do it’s work on you, letting out heavy, shaky breaths as it vibrated your clit perfectly. You opened your eyes and almost yelped as you saw a shadow in the door frame. Your cheeks immediately reddened once you realized who it was.

“What a sight to come home to,” Pedro said, licking his lips with a smirk and making his way over to you.

You hurried to close your legs and cover yourself, as if he’s never seen you naked before, but he put his hand on your knee and opened them up again. “No, don’t stop. I want to watch you,” he said, his eyes hungrily looking at your pussy.

“Re- really?” you stuttered, cheeks still on fire.

“Mhm, I want to see you scream my name as you cum.”

With that, you brought the little pink toy to your clit once again. You could feel Pedro’s eyes on you and it made you wild. Still slightly embarrassed that he caught you, but loving that he was liking what he was seeing.

You turned the toy up a notch, the buzzing filled the room and you started moaning and biting your lip as the toy assaulted your clit.

“How does that feel, baby?” he said to you and started rubbing your thighs. “Does that little toy on your clit feel as good as I do? Huh?” he said and tilted your face towards his with his finger.

“Mmmm, no Daddy. Your cock gets me off better,” you said to him almost whimpering. You were about to cum, you could feel it building up in your tummy. “Make me cum Daddy, please.”

Pedro took a hold of the toy and practically threw it off the bed. He lowered himself in between your legs and licked up your slit. Your mouth fell a gape and you let out a deep breath, no toy could compare to how it felt when he was in between your legs. You grabbed his hair and pushed him further into your sex, craving that friction. You started grinding your hips against his tongue, his heavy breathing and sloppy wet sounds making you go crazy.

“Just like that daddy,” you said to him. He brought his hand up and started to finger your g-spot and you were about to turn into dust. “I’m gonna cum baby, holy shit,” he hummed against your pussy and you exploded. Your legs shaking around him as he lapped up your orgasm hungrily.

He got up on his knees and lowered his jeans. His cock sprung out of his boxers, deliciously hard. He ran his tip up and down your folds before he fully entered himself into you. You both let out a groan, loving every minute of that familiar sensation. His cock stretched you out perfectly as he slowly moved in and out of you slowly, like pleasurable torture.

“My pretty girl takes daddy’s cock so well,” he said as he lowered onto his hands so he was hovering over you. Your mouths locked together in sloppy, wet, hungry kisses. He picked up the pace of his thrusts and that with his mouth locked on your neck, giving you goosebumps was like sensational suicide. You couldn’t take it, letting moan after moan escape from your lips.

“I’m gonna cum princess, god,” Pedro said breathlessly, his hips rolling at a steady pace and hitting you just right. He came up, grabbed your legs with each of his hands and slammed into your pussy. “Fuck baby, look at me,” he demanded and you looked right into his eyes as he finished inside of you. You both were out of breath as he rolled over to lay beside you.

“So why were you using that toy without me anyways? Hm?” Pedro said a chuckled, you playfully slapped him.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic rec #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x y/n #hbo the last of us #the mandolorian #the last of us #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fluff

[brewsterispunkk]

Mando Fic Recs🖤

as always: all credit goes to the authors. these are just works ive thoroughly enjoyed and am just trying to share them and give them exposure!

******

• @charnelhouse ‘s mando masterlist ~~~ i wish i could pick just one fic to recommend but the truth is that these are all god-tier. no skips.

• king of cups by @gaiuswrites ~~~this series is amazing. i binged it in like one sitting a while back.

•mutual by @the-scandalorian ~~~ all of this writer’s work is fantastic, but this one especially!

• nighthawks by @pedros-mustache ~~~ I’ve followed this story for like a year, and it’s absolutely amazing. flawless. they do enemies to lovers so so SO well.

• healing pains & road to recovery by @liltangerineart ~~~ so so cute. the PINING. amazing.

• literally everything by @absurdthirst ~~~ this masterlist is just *chefs kiss*. Sweet and smutty and all of the above.

• silent voice by @writeforfandoms ~~~ sweet din with plus size!reader.

• lighthouse by @mandoblowmybackout ~~~ din falls in love. thats it thats the fic.

• reunion by @whirlybirbs ~~~ friends to lovers and a reunion with our beloved . this one is so good.

• maybe it’s a sign by @outercrasis ~~~ modern!din & a road trip. i think about this one at least once weekly.

• silence in the stars by @moralesispunk ~~~ post-grogu softness and hurt/comfort. amazing.

• of constellations and creeds by @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa ~~~ ive reread this multiple times and every time it hits. a must read.

•and, of course the obvious: rough day by @no-droids

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandolorian season 2 #mando imagine #mando #mando and grogu #mando x you #mando x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din x y/n #din djarin smut #din djarin headcanon #din darjin #din x reader