#The Mandalorian drabble

[bits-and-babs]

could i be cheeky and ask for some more mandalorian 👀 preferably touch starved din

✦ 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐍 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 2: TOUCH STARVED

din djarin x reader | smut, 18+ | 1.2k words

summary: the child has been getting in the way of you and mando spending time together. after weeks without your touch, he's finally reaching his limit.

cw: f!reader, needy din, slightly ooc din to fit the theme, begging, oral (m receiving), cumming early, reference to f oral.

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 3: PHONE SEX ⇾

Even a kriffing Miraluka, blind as they are, could see how badly Mando desperately wanted you to touch him. The sheer yearning that rolled from The Mandalorian in waves was enough to shift the midichlorians themselves, the fibres of the galaxy trembling whenever you were near him.

Weeks trapped inside the Crest with Mando, far too preoccupied with the tiny green gremlin to pay attention to his needs had taken its toll on the warrior's mentality. Grogu had been pulling at wires, leaving the ship static in dead space and even managed to find a button that sucked the oxygen from the hangar, resulting in a frantic struggle to restore O-Levels to baseline before your lungs shrivelled. A menace to the galaxy, you’d spent more time with your eyes glued to the tiny, green hazard than you had sleeping. 

In turn, Mando was practically trembling with need. He’d let out a shaky sigh every time you sat beside him in the passenger seat, voice-strain evident even with the crackle of the vocoder doing its best to conceal the distress that dripped from each singular-syllable response to your questions. 

In deep space with the child finally down in his cot for a much needed sleep, Mando’s leather gloves creak with the grip he tightens around the controls of the Crest. You hear the grains scream under the pressure as you approach, glancing over the map and the coordinates Greef Karga had offered in Mando’s search for the bounty. It’s cruel, barbaric almost, but you swear you can’t see the digits, numbers far too small for you to see from this close… So you place your palm on Mando’s shoulder, leaning over him in an attempt to get a better view. 

You'd never admit it, but the way you somehow managed to touch him between the Beskar plates of his armour was completely intentional. It was a guilty pleasure, seeing the stoic bounty hunter crumble simply from the pressure of your fingers. His chest heaves, each muscle in his body stiffening under the weight of your fingers. 

Regardless of how heavy the Mandalorian’s stare was, his eyes burning into your skin from behind the tinted visor, you refuse to advance without his request. You pretend not to notice, mouthing the digits of the coordinates to yourself, squinting as though you were unable to see.

It had been weeks of this Loth Cat and Womp Rat game, and poor Mando seems to be reaching the end of his tether.

You finally feel his respove snap when you settle your hand on the nape of his neck, leaning further over his shoulder to ‘check the fuel levels of the Crest was enough to make the journey’. Your fingertips brush the bare skin between the neck of his flight-suit and the edge of his chrome helmet, and Mando nearly doubles over like he's in pain. He chokes out, and you can tell he's already hard, his cock straining against his flight suit.

"Please, please fucking touch me,” Mando’s voice sounds utterly pathetic, a far cry from the vicious warrior that blasted through whole packs of assassin droids.”I can't take it anymore, I ca-ahaaa-" he can't swallow the moan that bleeds through the vocoder when you palm his cock though his suit. You can feel the hard curve of his cock twitch against your palm, even though the thick fabric. A rough squeeze sends Mando’s head rocking back against the seat with a quiet, metallic thunk. 

“It feels like you’ve missed me,” you murmur quietly, feeling his hips jerk against your touch when your voice reaches his ears. Prickling arousal bleeds across your skin at how reactive he is, the usually stoic figure shaking himself apart under your touch.

“M–Missed you so much,” he admits, and you’re almost certain you hear the strain of his teeth from grinding them together, “Hah– Need to feel you on me, nee-d to be in you.”

Offering a soft hum of acknowledgement to his suffering, you spin his seat around slowly. His head seems loose on his shoulders, unable to hold it upright when he sees you sink to your knees in front of him. You almost feel sorry for him, watching how he frantically scrambles to free his cock for you. 

The first drag of your tongue against the arch of his shaft has Mando panic-stricken, his hands grasping the arms of the seat when his dick throbs heavily against your taste buds. 

“Fuck–” He growls, practically choking on his own voice, “C–Can’t!”

“It’s okay,” you whisper against a pulsing vein beneath his velvety skin, “We can do it again…” 

Pre-cum slips from the ruddy head of his cock at your gentle encouragement, a tortured whine rattling in Mando’s lungs. It’s so loud that you wouldn’t be surprised if the sound was bouncing inside the Beskar walls of his helmet. 

Carefully, you trace the tip of your tongue against the salty head of his cock, letting out a sharp breath when Mando takes a tight fistful of your hair. His chest is heaving, barely able to keep from slurring his words when he begs you to take him into your mouth. 

Slackening your jaw, you hum softly as you take just a few inches. Mando, in what seems like a half hearted attempt to escape the overwhelming pleasure, pushes his whole body back against the chair while choking out obscene curses. You’re so slow, trying your best not to overwhelm the poor, devastated man– but the flat of your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock and the tip nudging the back of your throat is all it takes to obliterate his self control. 

Mando sounds almost winded by the force with which he cums. His balls pull up so tight, the fingers in your hair clenching to the point your follicles scream beneath the grip. Underneath the Beskar armour, every muscle in his body flexes before the cum hits the back of your throat. Spurts of thick, salty seed paint the inside of your mouth, violent jerks of his shaft causing Mando’s head to fall backwards again, whimpering as you swallow down– swallow around him. 

“Hoh-Fuck–! Stars,” he babbles, wheezing out your name while the last of his cum drips from his cockhead. Pulling from him when his thighs finally start to seize from the overstimulation, you lean your head against Mando’s trembling knees and giggle. He looks utterly exhausted, slumped in his seat and chest heaving as he sucks oxygen into his lungs. 

“Your mouth– hah–” he wheezes out a slight laugh, so unlike the reserved Mando you met in a bar on Corellia. You’d stopped the child from running off into the crowd, and somehow found yourself with the role of babysitting him while following the bounty hunter on his adventures. “It’s so good…”

“Mhmm,” you hum in agreement, smiling to yourself at the memory of meeting the apathetic, almost grumpy chrome-man as you brush your palm across his thigh and closing your eyes to sweeten the deal, “So is yours. Put it to use and taste me?” You hear the tnk of his helmet touching the ground soon after.

pedro pascal/kinktober taglist:

@xwing-baby , @mybugboy , @pansa-1-san , @pedrosprincess , @cosm1c-babe , @lil-stark , @heart-atttack @crybaby-blue-blog, @ssimelttilgniht @2pacacabra @pauldanosgf @leithatnight @kirsteng42 @dindjarinsmut @s0ftgabby @milly-louise @aynsleywalker @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @uncassettodiricordi @howellatme @mortallyuniquepeach @maviee @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @stvrlights-world @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @girlofchaos @s-u-t @pintsizedsunshine @djarin-dreams @solidly-indulgent @bii-aan-ckaa @casa-boiardi @maelstrom007 @nikisfwn @levi-llama @haunt3dh3art @lundenloves @rentaldarling @cyberpr1m3 @jedi-in-crocs @yunggoblin @spideyman-peter @iaur @cool-iguana @paleidiot

@bloodmoon-bites @wiltedwonderland @doggydale @limegreenbabx @namelesshumanperson @ninahhh-brahh

[divinehedons]

Drabbles??? Like Din eating you out all slow and savoring it, but still making you cum over and over till you're in tears begging for him to fuck you, but maker you just taste so God damn good

YESYESYESYESYES,, may i also add while i have your attention: unintentionally cocky!din djarin x frustrated reader? SO, i present to you:

a taste of paradise

nsfw under the cut, minors DO NOT interact or din will go pew pew!

he gets competitive sometimes, and you enjoy pointing it out at times. you've seen the way he encourages grogu, the way he chuckles, talking in a proud voice whenever the little child makes him proud. he has the same sound whenever you stood beside him, glorious and all his- entirely his.

such was the case of when he had brought you back to his small home, grogu fast asleep as he's pushing you into the nearest bed, helmet pushed off as he kisses you between your attempts to speak, to try and understand what's gotten into him. "din... din-" he shushes you, laying you down amongst the sheets as his gloved hands slowly pushed up your skirts. he looks at you, and you see that starving gaze in his eyes, the soft smirk on his face. he does not wait another moment, even despite your attempts to soothe him, as he sinks between your legs to take a long taste with his tongue.

"maker, riduur, what's gotten into you?" you whisper, and you feel him chuckle once more as his lips wrap around your aching clitoris and just sucking until you cry out in his arms.

when din djarin wants, he does not stop until he satisfies himself. so you allow him, thinking he just wants a quick rush of pleasure.

besides, you always surrender to him anyway.

"that's it, cya're, just give in to it," he whispers, using his gloved fingers to spread you wide open, where you're wet and baby pink, digging into you like you're the very sustenance from life itself. "always so good for me, isn't it?"

he keeps going until you feel your legs shake, whining for him as he only intensifies his minstrations, tongue slipping deep into your cunt, beginning to fuck you with it.

"din!"

"hold it for me, sweet girl, come on, you can do it. just a little more."

a little more, of course, meant hours of teasing you, fucking you with his tongue, his fingers, scratched up by his beard and nuzzled by his nose. no matter how much you beg, how much you try and whine and make all the sweet noises he enjoys.

and you just want to feel the sweet release of an orgasm your beloved dangles just out of your reach. he knows your body more than you could ever understand it, knows just enough to know what would and wouldn't make you tick, make you cum.

"din, maker, you're being so mean, please!" perhaps it was the frustration in your voice, but he stops, looks up at you, your slick coating his beard, his chin...

"oh, adi'ka-"

that is when he finally gives in to you, devouring you until you threw your head back, the riptide all-consuming and so intense, you would be lying if you didn't fade for a moment or so.

"that's it... such beauty, cyari'ka..." you slowly open your eyes to see him looking down at you, safe in his arms as he slowly moves you under the sheets with a chuckle. "you see why i sometimes enjoy pushing your buttons?" he murmurs, nuzzling your jaw with gentle kisses as you groan in his arms. "because when you let go like this... you are just so beautiful."

you smile up at him, cupping his face before you slowly lean up to kiss him lovingly. "do you have to be so mean about it, din?"

he hums, slowly helping you into his arms as you finally settle.

"you are my passion and weakness all in one," he whispers as you drift off to sleep, watching you with soft eyes and a thousand unsaid words. "and if it truly does bother you, i won't do it as much anymore."

[sweetercalypso]

When It Rains || Din Djarin

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Exhausted after a long hunt, reader and Din get caught in a rainstorm

Notes: no warnings, just fluff! Inaccurate planet and travel references.

After weeks of traveling the dust planet of Tatooine, you were beginning to wonder if you would ever feel clean again.

The arid land was completely unnavigable, mystified by a dry heat and the endless expanse of tow-colored dunes that marked your journey. The debilitation of exhaustion and sweat made time slip away without notice, and your two-week expedition turned into three, then four. By the time you had caught up to your bounty, the grit of Tatooine sand felt permanently embedded into your calloused hands and cracked lips.

Din was in a similar sun-baked state, and although he’d deny that the weight of his beskar added to his heated agony, the drag of his feet was sign enough that he had grown tired of the dusty, desert planet.

--

You were practically buzzing with newfound energy as Din loaded the bounty onto the Razor Crest. Relief and eagerness bloomed in your chest as you entered the coordinates into the ship’s navigational system, wondering what awaited the two of you at your next destination. The hunt almost never took this long, and the thought of another day spent under the Tatooine suns made you restless for something new.

“Where to?” Din’s tired voice fills the cockpit as he collapses into the seat beside you.

After years of hunting across the galaxies, locations had become easier to recognize than the names of planets or distant star systems; the places you’d traveled had blurred into an endless pool of information that you didn’t have the energy to sort through.

You rattle off the coordinates listlessly, hoping that your companion doesn’t ask much more of you and your fatigued mind.

“Sarka,” he replies, voice crackling softly through his modulator.

“You’ve been there before? What’s it like?”

He pauses for a moment, tilting his head in consideration. “It’s not a desert.”

You hum gratefully, settling back into your seat and closing your eyes as Din takes over the ship’s navigation. “Good enough for me.”

-

When you finally crack your eyes open, you’re greeted with the sight of lush, vibrant foliage swallowing the Razor Crest as Din lands the ship with his usual quiet professionalism.

Heavy, overcast clouds are gathered above the tree line, warning of impending weather much different than that of the Tatooine desert, and thunder rumbles softly above the noise of the Crest’s engine.

Trees billow and flatten under the force of the ship’s landing, and as you peer down at the woodlands, you can almost imagine the feeling of dark, foreign soil under your feet.

You stretch your arms in front of you with a sigh, the lingering weight of fatigue burdening your muscles as you clamber out of your seat.

Before Din ever unloads a bounty from the ship, he likes to familiarize himself with the terrain and prepare for the possibilities of navigating foreign lands. It isn’t often that the Mandalorian is caught off guard, and the odd circumstances of this hunt won’t change his steadfast routine.

Din rises with slow, drawn-out movements, the only indication that he felt the same stiff ache that pulled at your limbs.

He gives a curt nod before leading you from the cockpit and through the ship’s quiet passageway. The only sounds to be heard were the clink of Mandalorian beskar and the soft whir of the Crest’s outer hatch lowering to the ground.

The stark grey panels of the ship’s entryway open to reveal green as far as the eye can see. You rock on the balls of your feet eagerly, fighting the urge to run past the Mandalorian and embrace the lively scene before you.

“Go ahead,” Din says from behind his helmet, amusement evident in his filtered voice.

You grin widely and descend the ramp ahead of your counterpart, gear clunking with each bounding step towards the ground.

Din follows at a careful pace, surveying the area for any sign of threat. Once he’s sure that the only movement around you is the long grass stirring in the wind, his hand relaxes from his blaster and he turns to you with a hidden smile.

“It’s beautiful,” you call out to him, voice muffled by the boorish thunder that cracks through the air.

His response is lost to the sudden patter of rain beating against the ship’s metal exterior. The sound drowns out your joyous laughter as your head tips backwards to welcome the falling water against your skin. Rain trickles over your face and past your parted lips and Din is left speechless by your open display of rejoice.

He can barely hear his own thoughts over the sound of heavy rain against his helmet, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he descends the ship’s ramp to stand by your side.

Drops of water ricochet off his armored shoulders and create small rivulets down the front of his chest plate, washing away the layer of Tatooine dust that still lingered on the metal. His head tips up towards the sky in silent admiration, mirroring you as he considers what the rain might feel like against his face.

Oblivious to your companion’s musings, you shriek happily and praise maker for the weather, cupping your hands in the air to gather the falling rain. Din watches in fascination as the remnants of the Tatooine desert are washed away, leaving you fresh-faced and delighted by the sudden deluge.

“What do you think?” You ask after a moment, realizing that Din had likely never experienced the rain as you had.

Without a word, his hand comes up to your cheek, holding your face in admiration before tenderly wiping the streaks of rain from beneath your lashes. Din’s thumb lingers for a moment, and you wonder if he can feel the water seeping through the thin material of his gloves.

You grab his hand in yours and pull it back from your face, eyeing him cautiously as you peel the now-damp glove away, revealing a small glimpse of the man behind the beskar.

Rain drips into his open palm and his shoulders tense as if he’s expecting a harsher touch. You can’t see Din’s face, but you can imagine his expression as water pools in his hand and runs down his wrist, disappearing into the sleeve of his tunic.

“It’s warm,” he marvels, gentle voice contrasting his formidable appearance.

“Not always,” you chime in, not missing the way Din leans in to hear your voice over the rain. “Just like the people – it’s different everywhere you go.”

He nods thoughtfully, flexing his fingers in your hold, seemingly entranced by the sight of his bare skin against yours.

A moment passes before you remember your foreign surroundings and pull away from the Mandalorian. “We should grab the bounty before the rain gets too heavy.”

“Not yet.” Din’s voice is almost urgent as he pulls you back into him, helmet tipped low to meet your confused gaze.

“Five more minutes?” He asks softly, tenderly, like his request was something entirely unthinkable.

His grip on your hand tightens and you think you’d be content to waste the entire day here if Din asked. A smile creeps onto your face and you nod contently.

“Five more minutes.”

[heavenbarnes]

Follow the leader

The Mandalorian x Female Reader | 18+

Warnings: canon-typical violence, canon-typical allusions to religious imagery, inappropriate use of the mandalorian creed, body worship (and regular worship actually), swearing, oral sex (f!receiving), mentions of anal, unprotected vaginal sex (use protection irl thanks), servicetop!din, needy!din, finishing inside, dirty talk.

Word count: 5.6k

DO NOT repost my work on tumblr or any other site

it definitely isn’t canon but it’s definitely self-indulgent. also i did do my fair share of research to make this make sense but forgive me for any inaccuracies if there are any x

Din Djarin is a man worth killing for. He’s a man worth sparing them all for, too. He’s a man worth dying for and he’s a man worth living for.

You were used to his silence, his stoicism often followed you both around like a chill in the air. But you weren’t used to it when it was just the two of you. Moments suspended in the stars with just yourself, him, and the kid? That’s when he really came alive.

Laying beside him with the heat of his bare skin radiating enough warmth to keep the three of you safe, as the kid nestled between the both of you. He’d speak then, you’d lay with your eyes shut so his helmet could lay discarded with the rest of his armour.

He’d speak about his travels, about his life, he’d speak about anything if you let him- and you did. Oh, did you ever. Drifting to sleep with the dulcet tones of his gruff voice, free of modulation, reminding you that this man was simply man after all.

Maybe that’s the difference, maybe that’s the silence. The kid. 

His presence missing from the clan of three, whittled down to a clan of two without him here and maybe that was it. You hadn’t found family in Din, just Din. You’d found family in him and his strange little son.

He’d found family in the kid and you.

The kid had found family in the two that were meant to protect him. So where was he as you sat across from the remaining member of your family? As you both sat quietly somewhere that never belonged to you? 

You knew what would be swirling around Din’s head. Decisions, decisions that were never meant to involve you. No, you took care of the ship, your home, and you cared for the kid.

No home. No kid. What was left?

You ran your fingers along your worn jumpsuit, brushing over the raised embroidered patch. The mudhorn signet that’d been stitched into your coveralls, the ones you barely took off. The one time you had, leaving them with the nice lady on Mos Pelgo to repair. She’d returned them to you with the addition, nodding kindly to the child in your arms and the Mandalorian over your shoulder.

As the thread gently ran beneath the pads of your fingers, you sucked in your breath with the knowing that someone had to go first. Lifting your head gently, you were met with the dark T-bar of the helmet seemingly gazing in your direction.

The silence was his hurting, he was quiet when you first met him and you hoped that the noise your small family unit drew out of him would always remain. But this was his defense mechanism, the minute things got on top of him, he went quiet. When he did make noise, the pain was threaded through the words terribly.

“He means more to me than you will ever know.”

That could’ve killed you out right, knowing the weight of the worlds was resting on his armoured shoulders. Dragging him down and steadily crushing him under the pressure. From the moment you’d met Din, you’d known that you wanted to destroy with your bare hands anything that threatened his peace.

So someone had to go first, you locked eyes with your reflection in his helmet at opened your mouth before the worry could shut it.

“What’s the plan?”

-

If he had it his way, you wouldn’t be within hailing distance of this ship. You’d be somewhere safe and somewhere only he knew. But, as you’d had to explain, the safest you felt was with him. That was something even he couldn’t argue with you on.

All you knew was that somewhere in this ship, your son was being held by hands that didn’t wish him kind. That was something you couldn’t let lie, both yourself and Din had made an agreement that there was nothing alive that could keep you from protecting that kid.

So you heart was beating in your ears, your blood was running hot beneath your skin, your whole head was ringing as you desperately navigated the unfamiliar terrain to find him. You hadn’t necessarily lost Din, but that didn’t mean you knew where he was.

That was until you heard it.

The unmistakable sound of beskar against beskar, the grind of steel fighting against itself. Your feet picked up before you had much say against it, skidding along the smooth ground and rocketing you around the corner.

Your man, your beautiful man, knees digging into the floor as the pressure nearly overpowered him. Gloved hand desperately reaching for his spear, scattered just out of reach beside him. His back neared closer and closer to the ground behind him as you heard the strain of exertion rip through his teeth, even through the modulator.

Moff Gideon, destroyer of your worlds. The Darksaber tight within his clutch as he wield it against the greatest thing you’d ever been able to call your own. He threatened Din’s peace, he threatened the life of your son, he threatened your own.

There was no question about it, no second thought, no moment of hesitation. Your boots thumped against the floor as you closed in on him, dropping to your knee and sliding briskly alongside him, your arm shot out to catch the back of his leg.

As Gideon stumbled to his side, your fist collected the material of his cape, tight within your clutch you wound it around your wrist. Out like a shot, you drew it across the front of his throat and brought him down to his knees. Looming above him, you stepped up behind him as your shadow cast in front of him like the harbinger of his fate.

Your left hand tugged up tighter on the cloth of his cape, hearing the remains of air leave his throat. Your other hand darted out over Gideon’s shoulder, knocking his hand that still desperately tried to clutch the Darksaber. The more you tightened your hold on the cape, the easier it was to release the weapon from his grasp.

Twisting your right hand around, the handle slipped into your hold and you pulled the saber back till it was only moments from his throat. Any last attempt to fight against you died as you wrenched your left hand up and steadied the saber in it’s place.

Looking down over the man, you were reminded that he was merely man after all. All that he had done, all that he’d attempted to do but never quiet succeeded in. You wondered if he’d ever expected it to be you? Your voice rang through the ship as you gripped both hands tighter.

“They mean more to me than you will ever know.”

Before you could follow through, the sound of your own name being called drew your attention to Din. Clutching his spear and standing up, he rest a hand out in defense as he quietly talked you down. “Don’t, don’t kill him.”

“He has tried to take everything from me-”

“I know, and he will suffer for it,” His voice remained level but you knew what lay behind it, the first time you’d ever heard him speak in what sounded like real fear. “Let it be right, let them take him away.”

Din Djarin, a man worth killing for. A man worth sparing them all for.

You dropped your hold on the cape, watching the heap of evil fall to the floor as he struggled to regain his breath. Stepping over the pathetic shape of him, you began closer to Din but immediately caught sight of the way he stepped back.

“Din, please,” You held the Darksaber out towards him. “Take this.”

You expected him to take it from your grasp and holster it with the rest of his array of weapons. Instead, he moved back further and knelt suddenly, arm resting against his knee as he bowed his helmet.

“Din, I don’t understand-”

Opening your mouth, it closed itself just as quickly when Din said your name and followed through with the words to make your blood run cold.

“The rightful ruler of the Mandalore.”

-

When Din got set in his ways, budging him was like the first meeting of the rock and the hard place. This was something he was not shifting on, this was set in stone, this was the way.

So much so that the Darksaber sat retracted through one of the loops along the waist of your coveralls, handle resting on your hip. It felt heavy, it felt out of place, it felt like it belonged to someone- anyone else.

“Din, this cannot be the way,” You attempted to reason with him. “You aren’t even allowed to take your helmet off but I can be ruler of the Mandalore?”

“It states that whomever wins the-”

“Darksaber in battle becomes the ruler of the Mandalore, but there has to be a clause, a not a Mandalorian clause.”

“Moff Gideon is not a Mandalorian, yet he would’ve been ruler, had you not defeated him.”

He had you there. Not only were you protecting Din, protecting your family, but there was something knocking at the back of your brain in that moment that said you could not let Gideon wield the Darksaber.

So you must’ve been listening when Din had explained it to you, contrary to popular belief. That didn’t mean that you had ever intended to wield it yourself, you’d assumed that you could’ve passed it off to your lover and it could’ve been a nice secret between you both.

“Just take it, you’re actually a Mandalorian,” You began to retrieve it from your waist. “We all know you’re more deserving.”

But he wouldn’t falter even a bit, another firm no as you tried to hand it over to him. “The way is the way.”

“Well then we can fight, we all know I would never stand a chance against you.”

“I’m not fighting you, my love, I would never want to fight you.”

You huffed petulantly, reluctantly holstering the saber. “You don’t seem to mind a fight when I end up underneath you.”

“What?”

“What?” Whilst unable to see his face, you could still tell that he’d hold an expression of unwavering duty or something. “I’m just saying that I would let you win and-”

“Exactly, that is exactly why I’m not fighting you for it,” He interrupted as he stepped towards you. “For it to be right it’d have to be a real fight, and I don’t have it in me to ever do that to you.”

A gloved hand came to rest against your cheek, very gently rubbing along your skin. The petulance resurfaced as you rolled your eyes but surrendered nonetheless. Sensing your unease, feeling it under his touch with his perpetual understanding of you, Din spoke up quietly.

“I’ll take you somewhere, so you can better understand.” The helmet gently rest against your forehead so it didn’t hurt you. “I promise we can make this work.”

-

“It’s true, whoever wins the Darksaber is the rightful ruler of the Mandalore,” The Armourer’s voice nearly shook you as she inspected the weapon in her hands. “However, the civilisation has been destroyed.”

You tried not to show the light in your eyes at that, as she referred to acts of literal genocide. Rather you furrowed your brows, gazing to Din before turning back to the Armourer and Paz. 

“So, with all due respect, if there is nobody left to rule then I do not need to rule?”

The Armourer’s helmet gave away no telling, unlike Din’s, there was no reflection to speak to or to guide you. If you thought your man was good at being stoic, the Armourer must’ve shown him how.

“The three who stand before you are some of the only survivors, are we not left to rule?”

The voice at the back of your head said “stop talking” and that voice seemingly sounded a lot like Din. Whilst he didn’t actually speak, he gently reached his hand out to brush against your hip in an act of support. He was still there, you weren’t actually doing this alone.

The Armourer handed the saber back to you and once again it felt out of place in your hold, even as it effortlessly slot back through your belt loop, it felt like a growth that was taking over. The space remained quiet until Paz spoke up.

“Do you know who created the Darksaber?” He asked, voice strong and all consuming.

You didn’t answer, whilst it was technically a question it was beginning to feel incredibly rhetoric. You’d acquired the weapon by accident and travelled all this way to see if you could get rid of it, did you look like someone who knew it’s lore?

“Tarre Vizsla, who I am descended from,” He carried on, armour audibly shifting as his presence loomed over you. “He created the weapon you wield.”

The light shone at the end of the tunnel as you desperately gestured to the object of his desires and your current nightmares. “Then you should have it, you should-”

“Descended or not,” The Armourer silenced all parties with her words. “Have I not made it clear who is the rightful owner?”

And so it is. Done, laid to rest with a simple sentence. You felt Din’s hand rest on the small of your back as he lead you away. There was no mistaking the feeling of eyes boring into you as you retreated, Paz Vizsla did not seem a man you would wish to make an enemy of.

An ally? Perhaps.

-

Considering the civilisation was destroyed, there wasn’t really a lot of options for living quarters. Din had wanted to leave straight away, but you’d convinced him to give it one night. Considering they were in the presence of the rightful ruler of the Mandalore, the Armourer had managed to find you somewhere to sleep.

If this was the ruler’s suite then, maker, you’d hate to see what everyone else was bunking in.

Peeling the sleeves of your coveralls down, you let it hang around your waist as you removed the Darksaber off your hip. You let it rest in your hands, feeling the weight of it as you scanned over it slowly. It wasn’t necessarily a heavy object, but you felt the unspoken responsibility that it garnered as you studied it.

Cocking your head slightly, you could see Din’s helmet was on you as he removed his gloves and cape. As he lay the cape down on your side of the bed, as he always did, the helmet didn’t leave you. That wasn’t a surefire way of saying that he was looking at you, but you got the distinct impression.

“What does this make you, huh?” You gestured towards him with the retracted saber. “Ruler-consort?”

A hint of a laugh resonated from the modulator, closer to a huff of breath through his nose. “Technically, it makes me your servant.”

The smile on your face faltered, the corners of your mouth tugging down a bit as you felt his words resonate deep in your chest. “Oh.”

Two heavy steps towards you. “It means I serve you.”

And there it was, there was a feeling you’d never felt before. He still loomed large before you, broad and tough, imposing presence that was never overlooked. But there was an edge to it now, there was a shift.

If you knew one thing about the man before you, it was that there was one thing he took incredibly seriously, his creed. The same creed you were now at the very centre of, he’d always followed it religiously. Now, he followed you.

“I won’t lie,” You muttered, bottom lip tugged between your teeth. “I could get used to the sight of you on your knees.”

In a second, Din wordlessly dropped to both knees before you. Your breath caught in your throat, staring down at the helmet tilted up towards you. That reflection, your own face staring back at you was mottled colour but you saw it nonetheless. You saw power.

You weren’t really sure what possessed you to do it, but with a flick of the wrist you extended the Darksaber until it glowed before you. Carefully, you drew it over Din’s left shoulder, up the curve of his helmet and down his right shoulder. You watched the way the light bounced off his armour, illuminating the small space around you.

“Is this what you want?” You asked, voice still quiet it like another above a whisper might tear through the moment.

Din let the question linger in the air for a moment before he spoke. “I want to serve my ruler, this is the way.”

Retracting the saber, you stepped over to lay it down with the rest of your things. Din remained knelt in the centre of the floor, diligently waiting for your next command. Feeling no rush, feeling no pressure, you stepped back around in front of him.

Bringing both hands, you gently cupped the edge of his helmet and tilted it up so you could stare straight through the T-bar. 

“This is the way.”

In the next moment, you felt his bare hands wrap around the backs of your thighs as he leant you back onto the bed. You felt the warmth of his cape beneath you as his fingers went to the laces of your boots, unthreading each and discarding them over his shoulders.

His hands slid up your calves, just under the legs of your jumpsuit as he covered as much skin as he could. You felt one of his hands retreat, following it’s movements with your eyes as it went to the edge of his helmet. You instinctively shut your eyes as you heard the sounds of beskar meeting the floor.

Soon, you felt featherlight kisses against the top of your feet, kissing their way up your ankles as he ran blunt fingernails down the expanse of your legs. Shuffling forward on his knees, he reached for the top of your suit where it hung at your waist.

Lifting your hips so he could get it the rest of the way down, Din shimmied it off your legs and threw it with the growing pile he was making in the corner of the room. His kisses moved up over your knees until they met the plush of your thighs, strong hands separating them until he had one leg over each shoulder.

You could hear him mumbling between each kiss on your inner thigh. “Perfect- perfect girl, whatever you want, take it- yours.”

You couldn’t dwell on it, couldn’t think too hard on it or else you might burst. Rather you let your head fall back as his lips edged closer to the lines of your undergarments. As his fingers hooked in the hem, you began to edge off the tank-top you’d been wearing beneath the coveralls.

He stopped you before you could even begin. “No, let me.”

Sitting up further, you let him slide the fabric off of you as you heard a heady moan rip from his chest. Falling back onto your elbows, you felt his hands slide from your stomach up to your chest, fingers tweaking at your hard nipples as he felt around.

“Beautiful, so fucking beautiful and all mine.”

“All yours, Din,” You cooed, blindly reaching a hand out to card through his soft curls. “You’re so good to me.”

He could’ve lost it, part of you thinks he might’ve as his face dived between your thighs. You felt the hard ridge of his nose press straight into your cunt, the unmistakable sound of him drawing in a long breath to become overwhelmed with your scent.

Kisses across your covered mound, along the curve of your hip and the soft skin of your stomach. He began to tug the underwear down, soon leaving you completely exposed to him. Maybe it was the lack of sight, maybe it was just him, but you could never find it in yourself to feel embarrassment around him.

The number of times Din had fucked you fully clothed, armour still on, sometimes a rifle and bandolier still on. He’d strip you bare and expose every aspect of you to himself and you would always let him. Hard to deny him when his mouth leaked praise like a faucet.

Hands gripping the underside of your thighs, Din angled your hips up until your cunt was sitting against his mouth. You wished you could’ve opened your eyes, seen how he looked on his knees with his back arched and a mouthful of you. But you loved him enough to be content in assuming he looked devastatingly beautiful.

His tongue split you up the middle, immediately honing in on your clit and working it’s way around. Your fingers tugged tight on his curls and pulled him forward, hips driving into his mouth. It spurred him on like you wouldn’t believe, broken moan going straight into you and making you lull your head in delight.

“Din, you sound so beautiful,” Wisps of your voice flooded his senses. “I need to hear you, come on.”

An ultimatum, if you can’t see him then you’re sure to be able to hear him. And he won’t deny you that, he groans as he buries his face in even deeper, sloppy wet sounds of your swollen pussy against his tongue. It’s dirty, it’s depraved and it should make you want to hide your face.

Not when he does it, not when you can feel the bed shift and you know that he’s currently rutting his hips in the edge of it. He’s working his hard cock against the solid frame of the bed in a desperate attempt to get himself some friction.

Din Djarin was the first man you met to come in his pants untouched from going down on you. It was the first time he went down on you too. He writhed and he cried out your name, tongue buried so deep inside of you as he made a mess of his own pants.

Every time since then, you could swear it was the first time. He’ll do it if you let him, part of you thinks he likes doing it. Likes the way you coo his name and clean him up, telling him how good he’s done and how sweet he sounded coming for you.

That same part of you thinks that’s how you’ve ended up like this, why he was so quick to fall to his knees, why he was so adamant in not letting you give up that Darksaber. That second one probably had a little bit more to it, but the undertone was still there.

Din Djarin was a strong man, he was a fighter and he was a protector. He could take down men twice his size and he could take you down with a couple words and a tilt of the head.

But as it would turn out, he was put into existence to serve. 

And he did it very, very well.

His tongue slid down to your entrance and prodded further, breaching the tight grasp of you. You could feel the wetness, it was pooling along the split of your ass and no doubt making a mess of his cape. This cape had seen some absolute sights, he still wore it with pride.

Din traced his tongue down to the tight ring of muscle, making you jolt forward and grip him tighter. You felt the tension in his shoulder release beneath your legs, tongue eagerly moving back up to your clit. If he could spend the rest of his days with his head buried between your thighs, he would in a heartbeat.

Your whole body was burning white-hot, the coil in your stomach wound impossibly tight as his tongue fucked it’s way into you and the curve of his nose was against your clit. 

“Din, maker, you’re so good,” Hands threading through his hair and pulling him in hard, you found your hips rolling against his mouth. “Be good for me, lick my cunt.”

The most ragged moan tore straight from him, his mouth moving even faster as you fucked yourself into his face. Muffled words fell against the sensitive area he was in. “Yeah- pretty girl, use me, fuck my face.”

His name was like the writing on the wall, the only thing you could seem to say as you felt the wave of pleasure cresting against you. You came, hard, devastatingly hard as Din never relented in his ministrations. It wasn’t until you had to push his face away, allowing yourself a moment to breathe when you immediately felt his lips take purchase elsewhere on your body.

Your hands searched for him, until he took them in his own and pressed them to the hard line of his armour. He must have been standing, you could hear shuffling and you could tell you were resting right above his belt.

“Off, take it all off.”

That was all you need to say before you heard the armour fall, you felt the breeze of his underclothes coming free and being discarded. He took your hands back, laying your palms flat against the warm ridges of his stomach.

“You feel so good, so warm, so-”

“You can ride it,” He cut you off, dragging your hands up his chest and across every scar. “You can use me, ride these if you need.”

His abs were tense beneath your touch, years of hard work and fast moving had left him toned. There were hints of softness to it, his age had meant the muscle wouldn’t always be so firm, but always fucking perfect to you.

You could imagine sitting on his abs, feeling the ridges of each of them beneath your clit and how good it would feel underneath you. But no, he was desperate to get you off and desperate to serve you. But you were purely desperate for him.

“No, come here.” Pulling him forward, you felt his chest touch yours as your legs wrapped around his waist.

Once his face was secure in the crook of your neck, you let your eyes open just enough to see the tanned skin spanned across his back. Littered with scars, with hair, lines and signs of a life that has been lived. You saw the raise of his ass, soft skin and an arched back as he clung to you.

You closed your eyes again, tilting your head so your lips were just ghosting along his ear. “I’m your leader, yes?”

Nodding furiously, you felt his hips jolt forward into your own. Hard cock sliding through the slick split of your cunt. You bit your lip, trying not to focus on the way the fat tip caught under your clit and nearly made your eyes open.

“Words.”

“Yes, yes- whatever you say, it’s yours.”

He’d never sounded so needy before, not in this way. Sometimes after a long hunt, a long time away from you he’d come back and he’d be needy, but he’d never let you hear it. He’d drag you down the bed, tear the clothes off your lower half and pump you full with the come that’d been waiting for you since the day he left.

But this? This was pure neediness, this was whining and nearly crying for you to just do something, or let him do something- anything for you.

“Then I want you to fuck me like I deserve, understand?”

You’re lucky he didn’t come right then, he could’ve, easily. But rather he sunk his teeth into the join of your neck and shoulder and pulled his hips back. He reached between the both of you and ran his fingers along your sopping cunt.

Where you were ready to feel the head of his cock meet you, instead you felt his hands at your hips as he was standing up. The weight of his chest left you as you felt yourself being turned over. Laid on your front, he put one hand between your shoulder blades to keep you down and the other grabbed your thigh.

He bent your right knee, curving it up to your side so you were truly spread open for him. You heard his tongue against his finger tips, before he ran those fingers along your pussy to spread your wetness even further. Soon you could hear his fist close around his cock, pumping it once, twice, before he lined it up.

He was big, undeniably big and there was no use trying to deny it as he stretched you opened whilst pushing in. Din’s large hands cast against your waist, pushing his hips forward as he pulled your own down against him. Settled in to the hilt, he gave you one fleeting moment before he thrust forward.

You couldn’t help it, the heady whine flew straight from your throat and died out with a pathetic moan. You could put him on his knees, you could use him for your pleasure, you could rule over him. Still, you knew that he would always have you right where he wanted you.

Even as he gripped you tight, fucking you steadily as his mouth ran off about every filthy thing he wanted you to do to him. All you could do was nod and babble his name, when the tip of his cock was punching right where you needed him- there wasn’t a lot room to do much else.

“My perfect girl, fuck yourself on me, take what you need.” His hands lifted for a moment, allow you to roll your hips back and feel the way he sunk even deeper into you.

The sounds, the wet squelch of your pussy wrapped around him was sweet music to the man above you. Mando slipped one hand beneath you, trapped between yourself and the mattress he quickly found your clit and rubbed neat little circles against the sensitive bud.

“Maker, Din,” His named was ripped from your chest. “You, all I need is you and you’re doing exactly what I need.”

The most salacious moans coasted off his lips, hips stuttering for only a moment before he picked back up. That’s all he ever wanted, he wanted to be everything you needed. Long before you ever held the Darksaber, Din had longed to serve you.

His eyes dropped to where your bodies met. The sight of his cock disappearing into the tight clutch of your pussy, wet and creamy as you slid along it. He drew his lip between his teeth, biting hard enough to draw blood as he kept rhythm with his hips and the rub of his fingers.

“Right there, keep it right there and I’ll come for you.” Your voice sounded strained, almost alien to you as you felt the fever that was ready to break.

“Come for me, sweet girl, let me feel it,” He never relented, keeping that perfect pace and not changing a fucking thing. “Let me hear it, say my name.”

That was all you could manage, his name like a childhood prayer as it tumbled past your lips and filled the room. No doubt filled the surrounding rooms but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Din stayed right behind you, pulling you tight down onto him as his hips stalled.

His free hand slid up the length of your back, clutching your shoulder and pulling you close as he filled you up. Your name and sweet moans littered the room as he came, hard lines of his body softening as he fell against you.

Lips pressing warm kisses to your shoulder, starting at one and cresting over your spine as he moved to the next. “My beautiful girl, my everything.”

-

Quietly, you shifted out of bed beside Din and moved towards your coveralls. You kept your head forward, not wanting to turn suddenly and accidentally catch a glimpse of him. You could still hear his peaceful snores, sleep wasn’t a common occurrence for him so you’d die before you ruined it for him.

Slipping your clothes back on and shuffling to the door, you slid it open as slowly as possible. The weight mixed with the age of it did not have luck on your side, doubled down with the fact you couldn’t even check back to make sure your man was still sleeping.

Nevertheless, you snuck out of the quarters and trekked quietly back to where you came from.

You could hear him before you saw him, deep breath and armour shifting as he moved about. He stopped once he heard you, turning back over his shoulder to watch you walk up to meet him.

He stepped up, tipping his helmet towards you in respect. You waved your hand a tad frantically, trying to get him to stop before it made things even more uncomfortable between the two of you.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

You took perhaps one of the deepest breaths of your life, looking up towards the man with the weight of responsibility sitting on your shoulders. You thought back to the Mandalorian you’d left sleeping, to everything he’d ever told you, to every decision that had lead you to this point.

“Paz, I need a favour,” You spoke, unsheathing the Darksaber from your side and extending it before you. “I need a fight.”

[firstofficerwiggles]

I don’t know what it is but I am really in my feels about Din this week and I’m low key emotional about how much he would snuggle in bed 🥹

Like I just KNOW he would wrap himself around you as much had he physically could because it calms him and makes him simultaneously feel like he’s protecting you and makes him feel safe. I’m thinking full on something like full on arm over your waist and fingers intertwined, legs tangled together. This whole thing makes me just 😭🥺🥰

Yesssss, I agree so much with this. Din is so touch starved he would just love the chance to get to cuddle with you and when he finally feels comfortable he's 100% wrapped up in you as much as he can get. More fluffy thoughts on this under the cut...

I like to think it starts off slowly, like maybe when you're sitting next to him sometime. Perhaps there's not quite enough room, so you don't have a lot of choice except to sit close. Din realizes how much he enjoys the feeling of you pressed up against him, the feel of your body and its warmth. So, the next time he sits down next to you, he purposely sits close even though there's plenty of room. He starts letting his arm rest on the back of the seat, so it can brush your shoulders, not holding you exactly, but getting as close as he'll allow himself.

Later on, you're the one who becomes more bold. You're sitting next to him by a campfire. It's been a long day and you finally have time to relax. You let your hand wrap around his arm in the space between his armor. You joke to him that you'd like to rest your head on his shoulder but with his beskar it won't be very comfortable. Din responds by reaching up to remove his pauldron, a clear invitation. As you snuggle closer, you swear you can hear a contented sigh leave him.

Somewhere in your travels you encounter a room in an inn with only one bed (oh no!) and rather than let him sleep on the floor as he so generously offers, you insist that he join you. The room is pitch black so Din feels comfortable removing his armor, and as he crawls into bed with you he's determined to be respectful and not touch you. He's lying there, body held rigidly away from you, when you decide that simply won't do and cuddle up to his side, your hand resting on his chest. Din absolutely melts at that, and before you can say anything, he's wrapping his arms around you, pulling you to practically lie on top of him as he snuggles you close.

After that night, Din can't go back to the way things were. He has never slept better than he does when he gets to cuddle you. You never really talk about it, but whenever there's an opportunity to share a bed and cuddle, you both take it. Din also becomes more inclined to hug and touch you during the day when the opportunity presents. Small things that he never dared to do, like squeezing your arm to get your attention, or wrapping an arm around your waist as you walk through a crowd are now all permitted, and he never misses the chance to be close to you.

One night you're in bed with Din curled around you, and although you're starting to drift off to sleep, you can tell that he seems to be fighting to stay awake.

"Din, go to sleep, I know you're tired."

"Don't want to, cyar'ika, don't want to miss the best part of the day."

[dilf-din]

Silver Spring (Din Djarin x reader)

WC: 1200

Summary: I was listening to Fleetwood Mac today and had a lot of feelings. Some angst but mostly fluff

A strong wind whipped through the grassy hillside you found yourself perched atop of. This planet’s sun quickly sinking into the sea below you casting fiery rays of pink and orange on the water and sky alike. The sound of the tide coming in was drowned out by the salty wind rushing around the three of you. Grogu leaned against the basket you had brought from the crest carrying your dinner for tonight. His little chest rising and falling, his little hands rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

You had been begging Din to park somewhere green for a few days so you and the child could stretch your legs. The last few weeks filled with countless hours waiting for his return. The two of you reading and rereading his little board books, tossing a ball against the wall, singing songs and dancing around the hull. You were so clearly full to the brim with cabin fever when he came back. He stood on the open ramp, arms crossed watching you twirl with Grogu wrapped tightly in your arms. You were singing him a nursery rhyme from your home planet while the little green child broke out in giggles. He was the first one to see his father, wiggling out of your grasp and tottering to him with his arms up.

Din knelt to meet him, greeting him with a, “Hey little guy.”

You bent over catching your breath and smoothing out your tunic from your little romp.

“Looks like you two were having fun,” Din remarked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“If you take us somewhere pretty, we can all hold hands and twirl like kids in a school yard,” you panted, “I don’t think there’s room for all three of us here though.”

He chuckled at your response, “We’ll see.”

“Please Din,” you pleaded, “If you leave me here again to come up with another dance routine I’m going to lose my blasted mind.”

Of course he obliged, saying that you were ahead on quarries and credits and it would be nice for the child to have a break. The underlying tone of his voice implied that it was just as much for you and you knew it.

You were always thankful for his good moods, when he allowed room for frivolity instead of his usual strictly business mindset. You stretched your legs out in front of you. The sea grass tickling you through your thin pants.

“I’m going to take him to bed if you want to try to get a fire going,” Din said standing and plucking Grogu’s sleep heavy body up and cradling him gently in his strong arms. “Figured we could stay out here a little while longer if you wanted.”

You smiled at the thought of it. He had never said it in as many words, but you knew he had grown to miss your company, especially when he was gone for long stretches of time.

“Will we be able to keep a fire going with all this wind?” you called to him.

“It shouldn’t be an issue,” he said over his shoulder, continuing towards the Crest. It was parked partially under the cover of some trees about a hundred meters from where you had all gathered to eat. You trailed behind him looking for some drier wood pieces littered amidst the yellowed, dancing blades.

When you were satisfied with the pile you had made with a little extra to hopefully last a few hours, you set to making a small pit. Using the flint you kept tucked into your belt, you had a nice fire going in no time. You were just sitting back to admire your work when you heard Din’s footfall approaching from behind. You drew your arms around yourself as you caught a chill from the wind, his gloved hand extended offering down your shawl for you.

“It gets cold here pretty quickly,” he said smoothly, kneeling down to sit as well. There was a rock jutting out of the ground that you had gotten somewhat comfy against, large enough for both of you to sit and enjoy the fire and hide from some of the biting wind.

“Thank you,” you replied wrapping yourself in the warm layers.

You sat in a comfortable silence for several minutes, watching twin moons rise higher in the onyx sky casting glittering reflections on the wild sea surrounding you. You had taken to plucking some of the longer grass and braiding it to keep your hands busy.

“Din,” you started. His helmet turned slightly towards you, “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said calmly.

“Have you ever been in love?”

He had been sitting still this whole time but you could feel his presence tense slightly. He took a long time before replying, “Why do you ask?”

“I just wondered,” you said, nothing detectable in your voice but innocent curiosity.

“Have you?” he asked after a beat.

You chuckled softly, “Yeah, once. Or at least I thought. I was young, we both were. We never would have lasted what with my plans to leave Tattooine. He was content to stay there, and I just always needed,” you paused, “more.”

Din hummed in contemplation. The silence wrapped around you both again. A low howl of the wind, the crackle of the fire, his steady breaths through the modulator. By now you had several braided strands and were working them into one big braided piece. You couldn’t tell, but he was watching you intently through his visor, the deft sureness of your fingers. He thought of how nicely they would fit in his own.

“I have,” he broke the silence again, “Been in love before.”

You hoped your face didn’t give away how shocked you were to hear that. Not that you couldn’t see someone falling in love with Din, you just always imagined he had been the same. Stoic, married to his work.

“We were also young. I met her on Nevarro when I first got in good with the guild. A local crime mob didn’t like the way I had busted a few of their guys, I went in to find a quarry one day and was met with her corpse instead,” he finished, his boot digging into the ground and loosening some of the soft earth. The nervousness of him sharing something so heavy was obvious in his body language.

“Oh Din, I’m sorry, I-“

“You didn’t know, it’s okay.”

You allowed the silence to settle in again.

“Was she pretty?”

He waited awhile before giving a simple, “Yes, she was.”

A mix of emotions were battling out in your chest right now. Guilt for bringing it up, sadness for the grief he must carry, jealousy at his heart longing for someone else. You tried to stamp out those feelings any time they came up, but it happened so frequently now, it was getting harder to ignore.

“Like I said, we were young,” his voice startling you. “It was, we didn’t know what we were doing really. It was different.”

You paused. “Different than what?” you drew your gaze to his helmet glowing orange in the light of the fire.

The wind roared wildly around you and you almost thought that you imagined the next word that fell from his lips.

“This.”

[ddejavvu]

grumpy beefy mando falling for soft!reader in her “grandma era” - all she wants to do is crochet, bake and frolic around the galaxy with mando and grogu 🫶🏽

"He doesn't like hats."

You glance up at Din from where you're testing a length of crocheted stitches beneath Grogu's chin, ensuring that the hat inspired by the local flora of the forest planet you've found shelter on won't fall off if he gets too rigorous in his play.

Grogu coos beneath the flower hat, but whether it's in agreement or protest you can't tell.

"He likes this one," You decide, when the little green terror before you doesn't fight as you maneuver his ears through their designated slots, "And he doesn't have to wear it if he doesn't want to."

Your fingers slip the little white button through the slot you've left in the band, and the hat is secured around Grogu's chin; the cutest little flower you ever did see.

"Oh, honey," You gush, scooping the child up and tucking him into your arms, "You wanna see your hat? C'mere, let's look."

You crouch in front of the tree stump that Din has settled on, holding Grogu up to the man's beskar chest plate. It's freshly polished, but not completely reflective, so at the right angle, Grogu catches a blurry, slightly distorted version of himself in a very pink hat.

His legs are still too small to kick in excitement, but his arms pick up the slack, flapping about while copious amounts of baby babble streams from his mouth. Evidently he's pleased with your handiwork.

Din stays silent while he offers his armor up for Grogu's viewing pleasure, but the child's hands soon find the soft strap beneath his chin and tug.

"I told you he didn't like hats..." Din murmurs, not to be cruel, but to fill empty space in the air when your shoulders deflate slightly.

"I thought he'd like it if it was softer," You hum sadly, helping Grogu take the button out of its clasp so that he can tug the hat off of his head, "I just figured he didn't like the helmet you gave him because it was uncomfortable."

As soon as you've freed Grogu from the confines of his flowery prison his hands slap against the shiny metal of Din's armor. He takes the child out of your hands but Grogu keeps his hat tightly clutched in his fist, and, with valiant effort, pushes the hat into Din's helmet, insistently cooing something that sounds suspiciously like buir.

Your giddiness returns, and you circle Din like a hawk, "Oh, you want your buir to wear it? Let's see," Amidst Din's protests you balance the too-small cap on his helmet, and he stills if only to save the hat from slipping and dying a muddy death on the ground below.

"It doesn't fit me." He grumbles, body stiff as he keeps it balanced on his head. Grogu seems pleased with his buir's new headpiece, squealing and showing off his newly-emerged teeth in a grin.

"I'll make you a matching one!" You declare, snatching the hat off of his helmet to give him the freedom of movement again, "Grogu, baby, what color should Din's be?"

"Bah!" Grogu decides, and your steps still where you're racing back towards your shelter.

"Uh... how about purple?" You suggest, and another resounding 'Bah.' is all the encouragement you need.

[moonyflesh]

-> Oscar Isaac as Poe Dameron in “Star Wars: The Last Jedi” - (2017).

[devils-dares]

Head to Bed

summary: nodding off on the razor crest

pairing: din djarin x gn!reader

wordcount: 438

warnings: none

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

comments and reblogs appreciated!

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Din-”

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

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

“I know how scary you can get.”

“I’m serious.”

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

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

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

“Mando?”

“Shh.” The bed sinks on one side.

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

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

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

[ichorai]

would that i ; din djarin.

track twelve of WASTELAND, BABY!

pairing ; din djarin x gn!reader

synopsis ; din didn’t consider himself a very jealous person. no, he wasn’t affected at all when the kid seemed to want to spend more time with you than him. not even a little bit.

words ; 1.5k

themes ; fluff, mild pining, kinda sunshine & grump trope

warnings / includes ; grogu eats a frog, mando gets v flustered, reader jokingly calls him daddy lol

main masterlist.

Bag hitched over your shoulder, you tugged on your hiking boots, bending over to double-knot the laces. “Hey, I’m going out to the market to grab some spare parts for the ship,” you called to the brooding Mandalorian in the cockpit. You were met with a quiet grunt in response. Finished with your shoes, you straightened yourself up and peeked your head into the front of the ship, watching Din work on some frayed wires by the control panel. “I’m taking the kid with me.”

This made him halt in his ministrations, and he turned to you. “Isn’t it easier if he just stays with me? Keep him here.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you nodded stoutly. “Alright, lemme ask him. Hey, bub,” you cooed, picking up the tiny creature from his floating carrier and setting him on the ground, equidistant between the two of you. Grogu peered at you with wide eyes, before rounding his head to look up at Din, then looked to you once more. He let out a garbled noise of confusion. “You wanna go to the market with me or stay with Mr. Grump over there?”

Silent, Din watched as Grogu began waddling towards you, seemingly excited at the prospect of going out to explore. 

With a hum of satisfaction, you scooped the kid up into your arms, shooting the masked man a victorious smirk, before striding towards the exit. 

“Be back before sunset!” he barked out, earning him a mock salute from you, then proceeded to incoherently grumble under his breath about how going to the market was really a one-person job, whilst fixing up the banged up ship definitely required more than a single pair of hands.

Clementine flames licked at the air greedily, crackling as Din tossed another wedge of wood into the fire. The setting sun cast long shadows over the secluded, wooded area your little group was hunkering down in, sparsely lit with the heated glow of the fire and the cold luminescence of the distant stars in the sky. You sat on the opposite end of the fire, blowing warm air into your palms to ebb away the numbing cold sewn into your skin.

The kid was snuggled up to your side, cooing as he tried to grab floating embers of the fire that drifted past him, carried away with the frigid night breeze.

Din studied the two of you, his mask betraying no expression whatsoever. Though Din was a man of few words, he was also a man of keen observations, always entirely aware of his surroundings. He noticed the way the orange of the fire tinted your skin with a near angelic glow, how the rustling of leaves behind him seemed to perfectly accompany your tinkering laugh as you smiled at the kid’s ministrations, how your eyes brightened with all the galaxy’s light within your irises. 

His attention was reluctantly drawn away from you when the kid waddled off to the side, having spotted a bulbish frog—which, presumably, looked like a tasty snack to him. 

With a gentle smile, you got up and circled around the fire to sit beside him, foliage crunching beneath your haunches as you settled down. 

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, just audible enough to hear over the pops of the flames. “You’re thinking so loudly.”

There was a moment of silence, the quiet weighing heavily over the both of you.

“It’s nothing,” he replied finally. “Nothing to worry about.”

Not wanting to pry, you hummed in thought, about to tell him that you’d be all ears if he had something to say, but promptly held your tongue when you caught sight of the kid swallowing the poor one-eyed frog whole.

“Spit that out!” both you and Din ordered at the same time. You glanced at each other, and your shoulders shook as you began to laugh, the corners of your eyes crinkling with such genuinity that was rare to find these days. 

You couldn’t see it, but a trace of a smile slowly appeared behind Din’s helmet.

The kid had finally fallen asleep—it took hours of you setting him firmly on your lap and telling him to shut his eyes until he began to relent, curled against your stomach and stealing your body warmth. Sleep was tugging at your own sleeves, whispering gentle static into your ears and weighing down your eyelids. 

Din had passed by the two of you multiple times as he tended to the many laborious upkeeps of the ship, silent as a ghost, but his mere presence was loud enough for you.

It was only when the ship’s door slid open did you startle out of your half-unconscious state, blearily rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You glanced down at the small form on your lap, gently patting his little wrinkled head. 

Carefully, you got to your feet and lowered Grogu into his floating carrier, tucking him into a mottled brown blanket with nimble fingers. The kid stirred mildly at the jostling movement, but settled down when you hushed him quietly.

Satisfied that he wouldn’t spring awake and scamper out of his carrier to swallow down more frogs, you left the ship, sliding the door shut behind you.

The night’s chill was stronger than it had been a couple hours ago, the cold steeping into your muscles and freezing your bones. The moon bathed the forest in a hazy, pearl-hued luminescence, reflecting softly against Mando’s armor. He was watching the vast, dark forest, broodingly quiet. You came to stand beside him, shivering slightly.

“Done with all your little errands?” you asked, trying your best to keep your teeth from chattering. You took his silence as an affirmative. “You really like keeping yourself occupied, huh?”

More silence. In the distance, a frog croaked.

“I would’ve been more than happy to help you if you’d asked, by the way. You didn’t have to do all that by yourself. I used to be a mechanic, you know?”

Din risked a glance to you, holding his breath for reasons unbeknownst to him. You looked awfully serene basking in the sweet cold of the night, which made his chest ache with a tender kind of longing he couldn’t quite put his finger on. A life he knew he couldn’t have, perhaps.

He tore his eyes away before he could dwell on that thought too much.

“What are you doing out here? It’s real cold out,” you murmured, angling your head to look at him. It sometimes frustrated you just how unreadable he was—not even considering the mask, he rarely ever gave anything away with his body language. You wondered what went on in his head. “Are you okay?”

For the first time since you came out, Din spoke. It was tentative and slow—fittingly cautious in nature. His voice sent a thrill up your spine—it wasn’t often that the two of you would genuinely converse about something other than the ship’s upkeep. “The kid likes you.”

A surprised look splintered through your expression. Of all things you expected him to say, that most certainly wasn’t one of them. “Well, yeah, I’d hope so. I love the little guy, even though he eats like a starved wampa.” You narrowed your eyes at him, the beginnings of a smile painting across the corner of your lips. “Oh, maker, you’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Before he could formulate a proper response, you stepped closer to him with a teasing glint to your eyes that he misliked. You patted his chest in mock-comfort.

This close, he could see the fine details of your features much more clearly—he noticed the small, faded scar across the bridge of your nose, slightly darker in color than the rest of your complexion, he noticed the soft curve of your cupid’s bow, and he noticed the slight arch to your eyebrows, as if expecting him to say something.

Oh, right. He should probably say something.

Din flushed hotly beneath his helmet, finding himself at a loss for words. 

“I’m sure the kid loves you just as much, if not more than, he loves me,” you surmised, still with a teasing lilt to your words. “After all, we both know he considers you his guardian—if he could talk, he’d definitely be calling you father. Or, actually, that might be too formal for him—maybe daddy, or something. Pops, even.”

Din huffed, amused. “The kid wouldn’t call me daddy,” he deadpanned, finally finding his tongue. 

You beamed devastatingly gleeful, and he could just about feel his heart disintegrating into sand and spilling through the crevices of his ribs. 

“Why not? I think it suits you.” You shrugged, still grinning so wide it was a wonder your face hadn’t split into two. Oh, you were going to be the death of him one day. “I’m gonna head back in—I’m freezing my ass off out here. Good night, Din. Or should I say daddy?” You barked out a laugh, clearly pleased with your little joke, before trudging away from him, chortling to yourself along the way.

Din watched as you slipped back into the ship, your words ricocheting in his head over and over again. He exhaled heavily. 

He was digging himself a deep hole here—and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to stop.

[bits-and-babs]

Hi sweet Jas, can I please request some forced proximity smut? A tight space and a whole load of sexual tension 😮‍💨 the character is up to you! Thank you!

𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 — 𝐃𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍

» PAIRING : The Mandalorian x Reader

» CONTENTS : Dry humping, dirty talk, Greef Karga and his loveable bullshit. Not proof read, who has time for that?

» DIN MASTERLIST : here || MAIN MASTERLIST : here

“Mando- Mando!”

You cry out as the durasteel walls of the trash compactor suddenly brace against your palms in your feeble attempt to prevent the kriffing things from smushing you.

Lodged between you and one of the walls, The Mandalorian stands firm. He, too, had been shouldering the advancing walls. The silver sheen of his beskar armour reflects your terrified expression, eyes frenzied as you realise they’ve stopped.

“Are you alright?!” Greef Karga’s voice sounds from above, no doubt shouting down the rubbish chute. This was the last time you were offering yourself up for a bounty mission on an Empire fleet ship- not even for five thousand imperial credi—

“We’re fine,” Mando’s raised, modulated voice sounds tinny in close quarters, hurting your eardrums. “If we let go, it’ll crush us.”

“I’ll find a way to get you out!” Karga calls down the chute, “Wait there!”

You cringe slightly at the order, finding it hard enough to safely unwind your limbs from The Mandalorian that had tangled in your desperate attempts to survive the compactor, let alone leave the blasted thing.

“Can’t wait anywhere else.” The Mandalorian’s response, muttered sarcastically, makes you huff out a laugh. He turns his face back to you, the beskar steel helmet barely brushing your nose.

One of his palms rests beside your head with his arm locking you in place, while his left leg, situated between your own, pushes the toe of his boot into the wall. Your own hands are settled on the opposite side of the compactor, trapping his body between your forearms. It’s a tight squeeze.

Blackness stares back at you, his tinted visor obscuring the view of his eyes. Besides the shaky rise and fall of his chest plate, thanks to his exertions in trying to stop you both from becoming Jawa Juice, Mando offers no insight into how he’s feeling.

Swallowing thickly, you cast your eyes to the darkness above your heads. It’s ridiculous, but you can feel his body heat from the breaks in his armour, covered only by his undersuit. It makes your heart flutter, the biting scent of leather.

“… I apologise,” his voice cuts through the silence and causes you to jump, “This-… This is uncomfortable for you.”

“‘S okay,” you mumble weakly, attempting to smother the butterflies that launch in your stomach at the soft, soothing whisper of his voice.

Silence settles between the two of you again. Despite your attempts to loosen up, the searing gaze through The Mandalorian’s visor feels as though it’s settled on your face, burning a hole into your lips. Stars, there must be fumes in the rubbish beneath your feet, driving you crazy.

Swallowing, you avoid his line of sight by looking at literally everything else. The woven flight suit that conceals his neck, the contours of his shoulder plates. Was that a Mudhorn-?

The sharp inhale through your nose as his knee brushes against your heat practically ricochet off the walls, eyes finally snapping to his visor against your better judgement. Unmoving, he offers nothing to infer he even noticed how he effortlessly set your body alight as though he’d triggered the flamethrower on his vambrace. Surely not. Surely he’d just been adjusting his foot to hold the wall better!

“You’re fogging up my eyeshade.”

It’s mortifying. Condensation from your heavy breaths is steaming up the silver beskar of his mask. The Mandalorian’s voice is flat but rich, and you can’t read his tone through that fucking modulator!

“S-orry,” you stumble over your apology when his thigh drags between your thighs deliberately, the second syllable coming out in a pathetic little squeak.

“Don’t be,” he says. “Don’t hold your breath.” He catches you before you even manage to still your lungs in embarrassment. “I want to hear them.”

His admission has the air trapped in your throat expelling in a quiet whine, unable to stop the noise from slipping out when he slooowly grinds his thigh up and forwards, rolling your clit between the layers of fabric.

“Hoh- '' you heave another breath, the mist encroaching across the beskar of his mask and mattifying the shine of the pure metal. “Oh fuck-“

“Don’t move,” he orders calmly. It sounds less like an order and more like an observation. “You need to hold the wall.” Yes. Yes, he has to remind you that you’re in a life-threatening situation, because the simple friction is enough to numb your brain with the thrill.

You whimper softly, shaking your head. The tip of your nose drags against the cold metal of his mask, sweeping through the misty dew and exposing the shine beneath. Stars, you can see your expression through the track you leave behind. It’s obscene, jaw slack and eyelids heavy as you mindlessly grind your hips down on the cuisse beneath you.

“So desperate you’re willing to risk your life,” he murmurs, watching you use him to get off like you’re a fragment of kyber- the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. “You like this? Using me to get off when your life hangs in the balance?”

“Y-ou starte-ahh-“ your pussy clenches as he drives his thigh up to match the roll of your hips. It grinds just right, and you arch against the throbbing hum between your legs.

“I started it,” he nods slightly, the low lighting flickering off the grooves and concaves of his mask, “I did. But you wanted it first. Burning for it.”

He’s right. Fuck, The Mandalorian is right, and you’re too far gone to be ashamed by his observation. If you weren’t on the brink of an obliterating orgasm, you’d be mortified that he’d found it so easy to read you.

You stifle a sob by biting the flesh of your lip as your clit drags against the smooth metal again. Trembling, your own thighs nearly give out entirely as you begin to crest the euphoric surge he’s pulling from you.

“Yes,” he breathes, his voice haggard as he watches you, “That’s it. That’s it, ther-“

“There!” A loud call bounces off the walls of the compactor room. A loud beep splits your eardrums, and suddenly the walls fall away as they draw back. The sudden lack of support has you falling into the chest plate of The Mandalorian in front of you, your orgasm blurring away between your thighs with the sudden lack of attention.

“Knew I could find the button!” Karga chuckles, the compactor walls falling in place to reveal your boss standing with his hands on his hips, grinning with a complete obliviousness that has you wanting to punch him in the face. With an ion cannon.

You sag against The Mandalorian slightly, devastated by Karga’s interruption. The little sigh you let out is pathetic, almost childish in nature.

“A thank you would be nice!” Karga chastises you, “I’ve never seen someone look so ungrateful to have their life saved!”

You swear you hear The Mandalorian huff a chuckle behind that stupid fucking mask, and you decide he was deserving of a punch with an ion cannon too.

-

-

[divinehedons]

BABE, babe, i need more of Din in Fallen Gods, PLEASE

thank you so much for reaching out! this bounty hunter lives on my mind rent free, so here's what's been on my mind:

cw: pregnancy, implied non/dubcon, implied predator/prey dynamics, i just really needed to get this out of my head, okay

no thoughts, just overbearing din djarin and pregnant reader post the events of fallen gods.

upon finding out about your pregnancy, the mandalorian would absolutely spoil you. adi'ka, come have some fruit. so much of it, day after day after day, following your every move, monitoring even the air that entered your lungs. all for our cyari'ka. our little one is too precious for anything dangerous.

you'd run, of course, you're perfectly capable. you leave him a message that you just want to be left alone. only that makes it worse. he hears your voice, and it sends him on a rampage across the galaxy, the bounty hunter on your scent like the shadow you can't quite shrug off. you know how the mandalorian works. you know how capable he is. and you know he's chasing after you. it's almost so easy for him. everything is too easy when he thinks of the life growing in the warm cradle of your flesh- little heart beating and calling for him across the galaxy. he had found you once when all signs pointed to your death. finding you again was child's play.

it still takes time. when he does find you again, your womb has filled out with your unborn child. you left without the bump evident against your skin, and now, your steps are stilted. by the maker, you waddle now. he sees the way you sit, the way your breath comes out in shaky intervals as sweat bead your forehead.

it's all the more easier, then. all the more easier to lay you on the nearest surface, chuckling at the way you groan at the relief it brings your back. cya're, how could you bear all that when you obviously needed my help? he tries to imagine how you must have borne the brunt of such a pregnancy. the morning sicknesses, your changing body, the desires and cravings you could not have afforded on the run. dank farrik, you probably couldn't even reach around to touch yourself in those long, lonely nights.

he smiles as you whine, kneeling down before you- his divine little creature, the very fount of existence from which he pictures future warriors are born. sweet darling, an angel on such a cursed galaxy, still strong to do battle with the days.

you haven't even given birth to this child, and he already imagines fucking another in your willing womb.

it's alright, adi'ka. i'll take care of you, now.

he fucks his tongue between your folds, tastes your sweet nectar, and swore he saw the maker. so begins a night that you would feel for days after. you would come twice by his mouth, once with his fingers fucking you as he delighted himself in the taste of your tight, untouched, puckered little asshole. even so, you'd cum three more times on his cock, until everything hurts and you're begging him to stop.

he'll hold you in the darkness, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as your child kicks against his hand, letting him know you foster a warrior in your belly.

it's alright, cya're, i'll keep the both of you safe from everything. no danger shall touch you as long as I stand.

you try not to wonder. and yet the thought is there. what if he's the one you should be protected from?

[sweetercalypso]

elaine! i am requesting a lil drabble 😘

🎬 - my favorite movie is pride and prejudice (the keira knightley version obvs) and I would love to see how our beloved DIN would fit into this universe 🌚

cw: mentions of drinking; the hand-flex moment is so Din-coded and I’m glad we’re finally talking about it!! (0.5k)

Spending your night in a dimly-lit cantina wasn’t something you’d planned, but the atmosphere of the Mos Eisley had been unexpectedly pleasant – much like the sight of the infamous steely-gazed bounty hunter sitting across the room.

His distinctive beskar had been the thing to catch your eye, his usual polished appearance now reflecting the tavern lights with an uncharacteristic ease. It was hard to tell if he was enjoying himself as much as the other patrons, but you thought you’d spotted his foot tapping along to the music once or twice in a moment of repose.  

It was nearing midnight when the band finally abandoned the stage and the crowd began to grow restless, signaling to you that it was time to leave.

You’re halfway through the room when the Mandalorian in the corner rises from his seat to follow you outside.

Most would’ve dreaded his company, some might’ve even ran before he’d had the chance to slide out of his booth. But something about him put you at ease, even if others couldn’t see past his armor.

The night air was colder than expected, causing you to wrap your arms around yourself with a shudder. Just as you reach the top of the stairs, the clink of beskar echoes from behind you.

“Please, let me.”

His voice is deep, grainy from the modulator inside his helmet. When he speaks, his head dips in a slight bow, like he’s addressing a person of distinction. He holds his hand out to you, palm open for you to place your hand in his.

The small staircase leading down to the street seems much more treacherous with an evening’s worth of fruity drinks dulling your senses, and you silently thank your maker that someone had been there to steady your descent.

Din doesn’t say much as he leads you down the stairs. He takes slow, calculated steps that match your pace just right, standing by your side as you pause at the bottom, slipping your hand from his grasp.

His fingers curl in on themselves, chasing the fleeting spark of your embrace. Even separated by layers of beskar and thick leather gloves, he feels the need to touch you, to be as close as he can without breaking his creed.

The flex of his hand goes unnoticed, much to his relief. He tries to find something to say, something to keep you there with him, but you’re gone before he can string together anything worth your time.

You murmur a small “thank you” before turning in the direction of your hostel with a last glance over your shoulder at the odd bounty hunter at the bottom of the stairs, still standing in the same spot you’d left him in.  

Din breaths a heavy sigh once you’re out of sight. He stretches his hands reflexively in his gloves and thinks about you at the cantina bar, wondering if he can delay his departure from Tatooine long enough to find you again.

[heavenbarnes]

to know him is to love him

The Mandalorian x female reader

i had this thought when i was driving this morning so i quickly wrote it down. no real warnings, maybe a little angst, maybe implied intimacy but it’s just a thing.

“Then you must not know me at all.” You knew that’d sting, it’d hit him where it hurt most.

That’s one of the dangers about loving someone and being loved. They’re equipped with an arsenal of what’ll hurt you worst and you’re simply left to trust that they’d never use it.

Desperate times, desperate measures.

“I know you better than anyone.” His voice cut as he spun to face you, his cape whipped through the air and cracked against his armour.

“Then you would know that I could do life over- a million times over, and it would always be with the same man.”

His helmet refused to give anything away but if you knew him like he did you, his expression must’ve faltered just a bit. It would’ve been a hard line, tensed jaw, but when you spoke it would’ve softened an infinitesimal amount.

“You would know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you-“

“Spend the rest of your life staring into steel?”

Your brow furrowed, an incredulous look stretched across your features as you shook your head. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?”

He didn’t answer, he stood like what he thought was an unreadable mountain. But that’s the thing, he could be unreadable if you chose to leave him be. Not you, you wanted to understand, you didn’t see any other way. You took every moment you had with him to read him, understand what a simple turn of the head or weight of a footfall might mean.

“When I look at you,” You tapped the back of a fingernail against his helmet until it chimed just a little. “I see myself looking back at me.”

You turned your hand, gentle fingertips running along the hard edge of his helmet and into the contours that held the face you’d learnt to trace.

“I see the love in my eyes and the smile on my face, all of that- you gave me. I see a reflection of you, the love you give me is written across me so I will always see you.”

You heard the groan of leather as his fists clenched and unclenched slowly. He was fighting, fighting against the part of him that wanted to grab you and take you to where you both slept. He didn’t want this to be another of those moments, that ends with words unspoken because mouths were preoccupied.

He needed to hear this.

“I won’t spend my life staring into steel, I will spend my life looking at the man I love- even if he must be armoured at all times.”

“It’s safest this way.” He finally spoke, fist unclenching and resting against the curve of your hip. “I can protect you, put myself before you- literally not-“

“I know,” You soothed, hand dropping down till it rest on the armour firm against his chest. “You never have to explain yourself to me.”

His hand rest against yours, holding it close to his chest. If the layers weren’t there you would felt the steady thrum of it, he would’ve been able to tell you it beat for you. The implication was there, part of you knew, part of you would always know.

“I do you know you better than anyone, that’s why I find it so consuming sometimes,” His voice was verging on a murmur but you always understood. “I know you’ll never leave me so I know I’ll spend my life protecting you.”

You tilted your head, resting it against his chest until he cradled you against it like he had your hand. His other arm wrapped tight around you and held you close, like he was afraid you’d drift away. He knew there was nothing to be worried about, he worried all the same.

Your voice was quiet so it wouldn’t reverberate off the steel. “I know, I know you.”

[firstofficerwiggles]

Hi Wiggles!! How’s your Valentine’s Day?? I’m spending mine alone but am Yearning™️ for the one and only Din Djarin

Like just imagine it’s the end of a long day and snuggling up to his side in bed. He’s so warm and tucks you under his arm while you rest your head on his chest. Running your hand over his stomach around to clutch his side pulling even closer to him. You hear a gentle chuckle and look up to see his love struck face before he runs his hand through your hair pulling you up into a kiss 🥺

AWWWWWW! This is so incredibly sweet and is such a great Valentine's Day thought. I love the idea of coming to bed after Din and snuggling up to him. You get to relish seeing him all relaxed and comfortable, knowing that you're the only person privileged enough to see him like that. His curls are tousled, he looks a little younger, his expression soft and almost boyish. You think he's asleep and you're trying hard not to wake him, but as soon as he knows you're there, he can't help but open his eyes to see you. He loves seeing you like this too, and he adores the sweet intimacy of sharing his bed with you.

When he pulls you up to his mouth, his kiss is sweet and tender. He's a little sleepy so he's extra soft and gentle. His hands roam over your body, feeling your warmth and simply enjoying his freedom to touch you as much as he wants. Reluctantly, he breaks the kiss, knowing that if he doesn't stop now, neither of you will get any sleep. So instead he helps you adjust back down by his side, your head returns to his upper chest, his arm wraps protectively around your back. Your fingers trace a heart on his skin, before you settle down, his hand coming up to hold yours. You toss your leg over him, entwining it with his strong legs, loving that feeling of being all tangled up with him. Din lets out a soft happy sigh and you drift off to sleep, feeling secure and loved.

[dilf-din]

The Betrayal

WC: 800

Rating: T

Summary: mandalorian!reader watches as Din is taken by Moff Gideon

Warnings: canon typical violence, death, ANGST, chapter 23 spoilers for the Mandalorian

Shots rang overhead. The sound of beskar on beskar making your ears ring. Your whole party was pinned down by blaster fire. You stood strong in front of Grogu, caught in hand to hand combat with whatever new breed of trooper had just ambushed your search party, stabbing him in the neck with a vibroblade and watching him crumble. You didn’t know how long you would be able to hold them off. Already outnumbered with more waves on the way, you were sure of it. Minutes felt like hours when you could deal little to no damage to a body so well protected. Your eyes scanned for Din, seeing him take out trooper after trooper.

Bo-Katan’s voice rang over the noise calling your party further into the cave. You urged the IG unit to follow covering it with a blaster knowing it was doing little to no good. You had lost sight of Din in the chaos. Your chest tight as you scanned the bodies for that gleam of silver.

Of course he had was leading the pack, reckless but in control as ever. Until he wasn’t. You heard the bay doors closing and your blood ran cold. There he was. On the other side. Alone. The mandalorians that had charged forward with him cut down in an instant.

You launched your body into the thick glass knowing good and well it wouldn’t produce a scratch. His name shrieked from your lungs as you watched him get overpowered. Paz’s hand on your shoulder silently urged you to take a breath. Your heart thrummed in your ears echoing off of the helmet around you. How could you breathe when the one who makes it possible was standing out of your reach with a gun to his head.

The sound of Moff Gideon’s voice brought you back down to earth, or rather, Mandalore. He spoke of purging your people, and the blood that was running like ice in your veins was closer to boiling. You pushed IG-12 further into the shadows, blocking his body with yours once again. You would do anything to keep Grogu out of his sight. He had one member of your clan in his clutches, and that was enough. You rolled your neck getting ready to rain hellfire on him for the last time.

Bo-Katan rushed to the back of the pack and started to cut an opening in the thick steel doors using the dark saber. Grogu watched intently, his brown eyes reflecting the white hot blade. Gideon’s speech rang on about how he had invaded your planet, stolen your resources, killed your people. Your hand itching to grab your blaster and silence him once and for all. The vengeance for what he had done to Grogu, what he attempted to do to Din, the satisfaction of your hands being the reason he drew his last breath making you blind with anger.

But then he placed his own counterfeit helmet on his head and flew off into the distance. The troopers holding Din down now dragging him out of your sight as he thrashed with every ounce of strength he had. The bay doors opened once more as Paz now led the attack gunning down the entire squadron with ease. You rushed to the front to cover him with your own blasters while the rest of your party filed single file through the escape route that Bo-Katan had opened up.

“We’re clear, fall back!” she yelled as the last members filed back into the hall. Your presence fell deeper into the hanger, your hand on his shoulder willing him to follow, but he stood strong.

“We’re not leaving you behind!” she yelled.

“Go, there are too many,” he yelled back, voice even, you could tell his mind was made up.

“Suum ca’nara, ner ori’vod,” you whispered through tears, slowly pulling your hand off of his shoulder.

“This is the way,” he said resolutely, slamming the button to the bay doors one last time, locking you and Bo in safety.

“No!” she lunged forward. You both stood in a heavy silence before you nodded your head towards the opening. She reluctantly followed, knowing he would die with honor.

As you snaked your way through the roughly hewn hole, you thought of Ragnar. Every shot you fired from now on would be for him. Every blow you dealt. Every swish of your blade. For him, for Grogu, and for all the other foundlings subject to exist in a world with so much vile hatred for their kind.

Tears stung your eyes as you tried to center your mind on the only thing that mattered: getting Din home.

Mando’a translations

Suum ca’nara: rest peacefully

Ner ori’vod: my older brother, trusted friend