#mandalorian drabble

[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.

[radiowallet]

❛ you can be rough. i can take it. ❜ with...... Din!

👀💕

Mmmm, rough Din, you say? Coming right up!

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader Warnings: Vaginal sex, rough sex

He's holding back. You can feel it. In the way his hands grip the sheets just above your head, the gentle press of beskar on the back of your neck, the measured pace of his hips as he thrusts inside you. It's sweet and soft, save for the dig of cold armor biting into your bare skin. You push back, as hard as you can, the tight space of Mando's cot and his overwhelming size, barely giving you the room to arch your back to meet his thrusts.

"M-Mando..."

He grunts above you, his pace slowing even more, his voice dipping in lust, heard even through the modulated sound of his helmet. "Mesh'la?"

"I...you...please..."

He stops all together, buried to the hilt, his cock twitching inside you, his arms shaking where they cage you in. "Tell me what you want, pretty girl?"

"You can be rough, Mando. I...I can take it."

The air stills between you, something broken and pitiful leaving Mando's mouth, and you bury your face into the blankets as your own needy mewl spills from your lips. For a horrifying second you're convinced he'll refuse, continuing on with the safe sweet pace he set moments ago. But before you can beg again, his body is crashing down, ice cold beskar covering your naked body, his hips snapping at a furious pace.

Everything is loud and heavy and too too much and through it all you somehow hear the rasp of his voice.

"Then take it, mesh'la."

[peterpparkrr]

Let it snow

peterpparkrr’s 12 days of holiday drabbles

8. Snowstorm + Din Djarin

Summary: You find yourself stranded in a cabin during a snowstorm with a Mandalorian.

“It doesn’t look like it’s gonna let up any time soon,” Din tells you as he stares out the window of the abandoned shelter you’d stumbled upon.

Thank Maker you’d found this shelter before the storm really picked up, you don’t think the two of you could have made your way out of the storm back to the Razor Crest in the conditions outside. 

“No kidding,” You reply as you come up behind him to stare at the blanket of white outside. You can feel the winds rattle the door and window frames ever so often. And with another gust, you wrap your arms around your middle and look around. “Guess we better get comfortable.”

You poke around to see what sort of provisions this little shack has. There’s a cot bed in the corner with blankets piled on top of it so at least you won’t freeze to death. You find a cupboard with a few ration packs tucked inside. 

“Well, we’re not going to die,” You tell Din as you raise the rations above your head.

When you pop back up you see Din crouched down in the other corner of the cabin, where the small fireplace is positioned. 

You move forward and watch as he builds a fire with the kindling beside the fireplace. 

He builds it up well enough, but can’t seem to get the paper to catch the spark from the flint he found amongst the fire-making supplies. 

You can tell he’s starting to get agitated. 

“Do you want to-” You start to ask.

The sudden woosh of his flamethrower cuts you off as he aims it directly at the pull of wood. The nicely built tent collapses as it bursts into flames.

“...use my lighter?” You finish as you stare at the now roaring fire.

“Sorry,” Din apologizes as he stands up and turns to face you.

“It’s alright, suppose we’re bound to get a little tense in this sort of situation. I certainly don’t love the feeling of being trapped somewhere,” You tell him with a sigh as you pull the collar of your snowsuit more tightly around your neck as you slump down on the cot, leaning back against the wall. 

“Well, it’s like you said, we’re not going to die here,” Din replies as he comes to sit next to you. “We just need to wait out the storm.”

“Then we can head back to the crest and get the hell off this stupid planet,” You grumble.

You both sit like that for a while in silence.

“You should take off your armor,” You finally say.

“Sorry,” You apologize quickly as he turns to look at you, his helmet tilted curiously. “I didn’t mean it like that, it just… you should get comfortable. And it’s not like anyone going to attack us.”

A mechanical hum comes through Din’s vocoder as his hands come up to unclip his pauldrons. And then his vambraces.

You suddenly feel like you’re spying on a private moment and quickly downcast your eyes to give Din a modicum of privacy as he takes off his armor. 

Once the pile of armor on the floor is complete your eyes flicker upward again and you see Din’s helmet already looking back at you from where he sits next to you, now just in his undershirt and pants.

You clear your throat awkwardly.

“Better?” You ask.

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” You reply as you nod awkwardly.

“With the fire, it’s warm enough you can probably take your snowsuit off too,” Din says. “For, y’know, comfort.”

You shoot him a look. You have a feeling his smirking at you under that stupid helmet. 

But you silently stand up and unzip your snowsuit, pulling your arms out before you shimmy it down your legs. You add it and your boots to Din’s pile.

“There,” You say as you wrap your arms around your chest and sit back down.

“Here,” Din says quietly as he wraps one of the blankets around your shoulders, the warmth from his arms and chest radiating off of him as he reaches around you.

“You’re warm,” You comment before you can think better of it. His arm freezes where it’s still draped across your shoulders.

“Sorry- I-” You begin to apologize again.

“Yeah?” He asks. “And are you still cold?” 

“A little,” You reply as you shrug. Before you realize what your response might mean. “Yeah.”

“Sharing body heat is important in situations like this,” Din’s voice replies slowly.

“Yeah,” You breathe out.

“You should lay down,” He gently instructs you.

You shift down from your sitting position to lay on your side as Din moves behind you, lying down next to you before he wraps his arm around your middle and pulls you against his broad, warm chest.

“Is this okay?” He finally asks.

“Very okay,” You reply contently.

Before you know it your eyes are fluttering close and you fall asleep as Din’s arm tightens around you.

And you swear he whispers something, but you’re already asleep before you can try to decipher what he’s said.

[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.

[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

[beskarandblasters]

Enchanted to Meet You

Security Guard!Din Djarin x Senator/F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: Inspired by Enchanted by Taylor Swift! Part of the Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge! This is also way more than a drabble and possibly some of my favorite smut I’ve ever written?!?!

Summary: You’re a senator for the New Republic and tonight you’re forced to attend the New Republic Gala. Senator Xiono won’t leave you alone but that in turn leads you to meet Mando, a security guard at the event. And that leaves you wonderstruck.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, reader has consumed alcohol, creepy guy at the gala, fingering, semi public sex, vaginal sex, pull out method, pet names (cyar’ika, mesh’la), no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Small talk. Painful small talk. Your cheeks hurt from faking smiles and pretending to nod at people’s boring anecdotes. If you fake laugh at one more unfunny story you’re going to lose it.  Everyone here is so insincere, only here to further their own political gain. It’s a gala for the New Republic, sure but what happened to the social aspect of it? It just feels fake, like the whole thing is a facade. 

The only thing that makes tonight semi-bearable is your dress– midnight blue chiffon with silver stars embroidered throughout the fabric. A dress that you’d like to meet someone in if you weren’t surrounded by self-absorbed politicians. 

The gala is decorated extravagantly. The lights on the dance floor reflect gorgeously off your dress and your jewelry. The music is actually quite catchy for a party full of bureaucrats. And the multiple rounds of revnog are certainly helping you loosen up. 

If only you had someone to share it all with. 

You don’t feel like you fit in here. Most of the senators are Coruscant, Chandrila, and other Core planets. You’re from Naboo and that makes you feel like an outsider among the Galaxy’s elite. 

A tap on your shoulder interrupts your train of thought. 

“Care to dance?” 

You turn around, the skirt of your dress swaying with the motion, and find Senator Hamato Xiono. 

“With you? Not a chance.”

“Aw, come on. Perfect opportunity to talk trade routes. The music, the lights… it might make you think differently about voting no on my proposal.”

“Because your proposal lacks any real research.” 

“You’ll change your mind once I’m done with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, stepping towards you and grabbing your arm. 

You attempt to pull away from him but his grip is tight, snug around your wrist. The blood drains from your face and adrenaline courses through you. He’s trying to talk about politics now… at a party? And on top of all that he put his kriffing hands on you. 

“Is there a problem here?” a sultry-toned voice asks. 

You look to your left and find a man wearing silver armor. Tall, broad, an absolute unit. His face is concealed by a helmet that matches the rest of his armor, a T-shaped visor running down the middle. 

Senator Xiono lets go of your wrist and you let it fall to your side. His touch leaves tingling marks on your skin, and not the good kind. 

“Nope. We’re fine. Aren’t we?” Senator Xiono asks, a fake smile gracing his face. 

You look at him and then back at the strange masked man before saying, “I need some air.” 

You walk past both of them, your ears ringing with anger as the other partygoers' faces blur around you. The adrenaline doesn’t start to subside until the cool nighttime air hits your face. 

Alone on the balcony, leaning against the railing and looking at the sea of speeders beneath you. Deep breaths and counting to ten calm you down. And once your mind is finally clear you ask yourself… Who was that man? 

“Are you alright?” the same silky voice as before asks. 

You don’t have to see him to know who it is but you turn around anyway, meeting his visor. 

“I’m fine… But thank you for checking on me,” you say before glancing at the view of Coruscant again. Your hands grip the cool metal railing and the wind causes goosebumps to prick your skin.

“...Who are you?” you ask, still not looking at him. 

“I was hired as security for the event,” he says, not saying who he really is.

“I see…”

You sense him standing next to you at the railing, matching the same pose you’re making, his gloved hand so dangerously close to yours.

“Thanks for stepping in back there,” you say, turning your head and looking at him. Your eyes are always drawn to his visor. It should be unsettling looking at something without a discernible face. And yet all it does is intrigue you. 

“He was disrespecting you.”

“He tends to do that.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“I’m sure you deal with much worse… Are you always doing security?”

“I’m a bounty hunter,” he says, turning to face you.

“A bounty hunter?” you ask, facing him too, your eyes widening.

“Mhm.”

You’re not sure why… but that excites you. It’s a contrast from your boring day-to-day routine of paperwork and meetings– a life on your own, living by no one’s rules. 

“Tell me more about that.”

He gestures to a bench in the center of the balcony where you follow him, sitting side by side, thighs touching ever so slightly. You listen to him recount fascinating stories, ones where he’s brave and slaying countless people left and right. But he also tells you a story about the time he was bested by a blurgg. He makes you laugh. And surprisingly he laughs, too.

Maker, his laugh.

You’ve only just met him yet his laugh is like music to your ears. The conversation is so natural, so easygoing. You feel like you can be yourself around him. You hope he feels the same way about you. Your mind starts to wander… What does he look like underneath the helmet?

“Can I tell you something?” you say.

“What?”

“I wish I could kiss you.”

“...Really?”

“But you can’t take off the helmet.”

“You’re right. It’s a part of my creed.”

He pauses for a moment before saying, “Let me show you other things I can do.”

He rises from the bench and extends his hand out to you. You take it, interlocking your fingers with his as he leads you back inside. He pushes through crowds of people, leading you down a hallway and into a refresher. 

He locks the door and turns to face you, looking you up and down as he walks closer to you. You take a step back and feel your back touch the sink. His hands ghost your waist and his helmet cocks to the side.

“Is this okay?”

“More than okay,” you breathe out. 

His hands slide up your waist, caressing the outline of your breasts.

“I may not be able to kiss you… But I can show you a good time.”

He spins you around so you’re facing the mirror. Excitement pools between your legs as you watch him hike up your dress. Not once did you think you’d be having sex in this dress, let alone in the refresher at the gala. 

He leans forward and whispers in your ear, “Bend over for me, cyar’ika.”

You follow his instructions, internally wondering what the nickname means. 

“No underwear?” he asks once your lower half is fully exposed, “Naughty girl.”

You giggle and rest against the sink, gripping the ceramic as he tugs off his glove. He lifts his helmet for a split second, just barely enough to expose his mouth. You close your eyes out of respect and hear him spit in his hand. Once you feel his fingers tease your entrance you open your eyes. His helmet is secured on his head and his body leans over yours, a finger sliding inside you slowly. A small gasp escapes your lips. He barely gives you any time to warm up to one finger before sliding in the second. Not that you’re complaining. He curls his fingers against your walls, pushing against your g-spot. Your moans fill the refresher, gradually getting louder and louder as he brings you closer to the edge. 

“Shhh,” he whispers in your ear, “Be quiet, mesh’la. There are people in the hallway.”

Another nickname. 

You bite your lip and meet his visor in the reflection of the mirror, doing your best to not make too much noise. He pulls your first orgasm from you, knees trembling beneath you as you grip the sink. You bite your lip harder and try to be quiet but it’s hard. It’s too hard when he’s making you feel this good. He’s so skilled with just his fingers but you suppose it makes sense given the helmet. 

Once you’re done coming he pulls his fingers from you, one hand holding your hip as the other slathers his cock with the wetness you just produced. He leans forward again and whispers, “Got so wet for me, cyar’ika. I’m not even done with you yet,” just as he thrust his cock into you. 

A sharp gasp of surprise escapes your lips. He’s large, splitting you apart. If it weren’t for the sink holding you up your knees would surely give out. Your entire body trembles with pleasure and he hasn’t even moved inside you yet. 

You bite your lip again as he draws his hips back, slamming into you swiftly. It’s too hard to be quiet. A whimper forces its way out of your throat. And then again as he thrusts into you a second time. Staying quiet is impossible as he’s railing you. You watch him in the reflection, stone-cold visor staring back at you as you’re reduced to a shivering mess beneath him. Yet he remains his composure, his pace never faltering. 

You wonder what his cock looks like; a clue as to what the rest of him looks like. He wasn’t kidding when he said he could show you all the other things he can do. His cock hits the most perfect angles inside you. And the refresher is not only filled with your moans but also the wet squelching sounds of your cunt. 

Your walls tense up in anticipation of a release. And though your second orgasm hasn’t happened yet you know this one is going to be bigger than the last, thanks to his impressive size. But aside from the sheer size of his cock he knows how to use it. He knows how to melt you into a puddle, putty in his hands as you’re brought to the edge of orgasm. 

With one last thrust of his hips, you’re coming around his cock. You’re fully whining and moaning now, bordering on screaming. For a moment you forget you’re in a public refresher, completely blissed out. He doesn’t remind you to keep quiet this time, watching your face in the mirror as you cum. 

“Good girl,” he praises, slapping your ass with his bare hand. You let out another small gasp but it’s cut off by a moan of pleasure. He continues thrusting into you through your high, prolonging it even further. Stars dance in your vision and there’s a strange haze around Mando in the reflection. This…. This is euphoria. All from a man you just met tonight. 

He hangs on until you’re done coming, pulling out of you right before he comes. He paints your ass with his release, a modulated groan slipping out from under the helmet. You wish you could see his face as he cums. You can only imagine what he looks like, eyes closed and mouth open as cum leaks from his cock. 

Once he’s done he quickly reaches for a towel, cleaning up the mess on your ass. He tosses it in the trash and helps you stand upright as you smooth down the skirt of your dress. 

“That was incredible,” you breathe out, voice still high-pitched from your two climaxes tonight. 

He grabs your hand, thumb rubbing against yours. You glance down at his bare hand and you’re greeted with tan skin. You can’t help but wonder about him, more of his story, more of what he looks like. You could’ve stayed on the balcony and talked with him for hours. But you’re not complaining about what just happened either. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, cyar’ika,” he says. 

But before either of you can ask what that and the other nickname means, there’s a knock on the door.

“Mando? Are you in there? You’re needed on the dance floor. There’s been an incident,” a man’s voice says. 

“I’m sorry…” he says, putting his cock away and bending down to grab his other glove, “I’ll find you after?”

“I’m okay! Go do your job,” you tell him. 

He lingers for a moment, looking at you one last time before leaving the refresher and meeting whoever is in the hallway. You hang back for a moment until they’re both gone.

You glance at yourself in the mirror, ensuring you’re presentable before returning to the gala. There’s a bunch of commotion and groups of people are being ushered out. It must’ve ended early due to whatever incident happened on the dance floor. It’s all so overwhelming, loud noises and bustling crowds of people. 

You spot Mando, talking to none other than Senator Xiono and another small group of people. You roll your eyes. Mon Mothma’s going to have to reprimand him. You figure you’ll just wait around until Mando’s done but another security guard comes up behind you and shouts. 

“Everyone out! Party’s over!” he shouts, ushering you out with the sea of people. You open your mouth to protest but he shouts, “Let’s go! Get a move on!”

You glance over your shoulder at Mando, who’s still talking to Senator Xiono. His hands are on his hips as Senator Xiono argues with him. Mon Mothma’s there too now. It looks like he’ll be a while much to your dismay. 

You follow the crowd outside, trying to wait on the platform for Mando but yet again security guards are ushering people into speeders. It isn’t until a guard practically shoves you into one that you accept your fate. You’re leaving whether you like it or not. 

You stare at the tapestry of stars above you, replaying the night’s events. You were dreading coming to this event and here you are leaving… enchanted; wonderstruck. As the speeder takes you back to your hotel you wonder to yourself…

When will you see him again? Is he promised to someone else? Is there some other woman waiting on him somewhere else in the Galaxy? What did those nicknames mean? 

The walk to your room is spent with your cheeks on fire, staring at the floor smiling, giddy like a little kid. Tonight was magical, flawless up until you were ripped away from each other too soon. 

There’s one thing for certain, you were enchanted to meet him. 

[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.

[lincolndjarin]

this is a request!! i would loveeee to see desperate din and him begging. he’s always in the suit and never really around people so it would make so much sense for him to be touch starved and needy. like he meets reader for the first time and all his needs and feelings he ignored for years come to the front and he’s just down bad 😩

a/n : sorry this took forever to get around!! i haven't written drabbles before so i hope this is okay <3 thank you for the request !! (i read online that some people get annoyed when drabbles are over 100 words if that is true feel free to tell me to knock it off LMAO cause some people say its just a short fic so idk i'm lost and know nothing.)

anyways, i changed a little bit of your request to keep it short, hope that's okay!!

pairing : din djarin x afab!reader

word count : 0.6k

warning : 18+ mdni, smut, no plot this is just porn, sorta sub!din, begging, din's lowkey a boob man in this, nipple stuff idk the proper tag here sorry, praise, premature ejaculation lowkey (din gets a little over excited), handjobs

It was surprisingly easy to convince him to take the armor off. Almost like he was waiting for you to ask, from there he was putty in your hands, crawling into the sleeping cubby, panting before you've even touched him.

It's too dark to see him but you can feel how different this is from the quickies in the cockpit or the stress induced sex against the side of the ship from a mission gone wrong. His kisses are hot and feverish against you skin as he latches onto your nipple with a whimper. You've never felt his mouth on your flesh and suddenly it's your greatest regret. Denying yourself such a thing. Attentive is an understatement, his tongue lapping at the meat of your chest, wanting feel the weight of it in his mouth.

"Maker, Mando, slow down..." You laugh breathlessly, nothing could have prepared you for the whimper against your breast. You feel the line of spit as he pulls away briefly.

"Please?" His voice has never sounded like this, an unfamiliar breathy whine is stifled as his lips wrap themselves back around your nipple, lewd wet sounds filling the tiny space. His cock rests fully erect between your thighs, the warmth coming off of him is suffocating as he groans against your breasts, burying his head between them.

You feel the vibration on his lips as he moans against you.

"M-More, more, please." He drags his mouth from your chest to your throat, settling there now, it's like he's trying to find your pulse with his tongue.

After that it's like the words are being pulled out of you, you aren't sure where they come from, you've never talked like this before.

"More what, sweet boy?"

His hips snap forward seeming involuntarily, you can feel him starting to grind against your thigh, desperate for whatever he can get.

"More you." He mumbles, high pitched and demanding.

You let your hands touch everything.

The parts of him no ones seen, let alone touched, in decades.

It's like every single inch of his skin is sensitive. You scrape your nails down his back and sound you draw from him is downright pornographic.

He gives up on any attempt to keep his mouth on you, he's too busy writhing and begging when your hands travel southing, running your fingers through the dark thatch of curls that starts on the bottom of his stomach.

"Touch me- please touch me. I'll be good, I promise to be good just touch me." He's positively breathless by the time you wrap your hand around his stiff and aching cock.

You watched him kill three people today, with zero hesitation. The most ruthless killer you've ever known. And right now he's humping your leg and biting your shoulder to muffle the obscene sounds he's making.

You let one hand travel back up, pinching his nipples, trying to draw more of those delicious noises from him.

With that he's trembling. There's no more words as you start to stroke his length, alternating between his nipples with pinches and soothing rubs of your thumb over the pebbled buds.

You don't even have to move your other hand, you simply hold it still as he fucks it, his head resting beside yours, the only sounds you can hear are his gasps for air and soft airy moans.

It takes a minute at most.

It's the fastest he's ever finished with you.

Normally he finishes with a low groan but now the only sound filling the cubby is a drawn out, shaky whine.

You feel his release against your palm. Hot and sticky as he rides it out, rutting against you until he's finally satisfied, murmuring a slurred "Thank you, thank you, thank you." against your skin.

You turn your head to press a kiss into his temple.

"Good boy."

[iron-strangers]

That's my girl!

aka Din watches you fight with the biggest heart eyes in the galaxy as Wildest Dreams (Taylor's Version) plays in the background (a WIP of my 3+1 fic)

gif credit @1038276637

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Length: 690+ words

Tags: Mand'alor Din Djarin, Swearing, Kid Fic

A/N: Written in Expanding Clan Mudhorn universe. Link to the series on ao3, tumblr

-

“I challenge you for the Mand’alor’s hand in marriage.”

The lively chatters around the market shifts into a quiet whispers when a challenger appears from the crowd. She has her full armor on, holding her blaster up for everyone to see. Shrugging, you took your squirming fourteen-months toddler from his birikad (baby harness) into his buir’s (father’s) arms before walking into the fight. Aranar laughs, clapping his chubby hands and pointing at you. “Bu-ee! Look, momma!”

“Yes, Ar’ika, momma’s gonna kick some s-h-e-b (ass), so we have to stand aside and let her do her thing, okay?” Din sighs, bouncing the boundless energy out of his toddler, getting a ‘Kay! and a grin from his son who’s currently munching happily on his small portion of uj cake, with that sweet tooth no one will ever doubt that he truly his momma’s son. Aranar is getting a lot of ‘copikla’ (cute) from every passer-by, enthralled by his mop of dark curly hair and his adorable toothy smile.

“I accept your challenge,” you smile, turning your saber on. The snap-hiss of lightsaber ignition rips through the air and Aranar whoops. “Bu-ee! Pu-pel!”

“Yes, good job Ar’ika! Momma’s laser sword is purple!”

“How many time should I tell you it’s called lightsaber.” Kryze sighs, holding her head in her hand. She insisted to come during their visit to the newly opened Sundari Market for this exact reason, security of the Ven’alor Mand’alor. “You married a jedi, osik (shit), you have two jet’ika.”

“Osik!” Aranar parrots, laughing without caring how his buir is going through all five stages of grief in three seconds. “Kryze! I swear to the Manda-”

Din is cut-off by the sound of lightsaber hitting beskar. You deflect blaster bolts with the force and hits the challenger on her pauldron. You swipe your saber low, aiming for her leg. She jumps and brings her other hand up, shooting grappling hooks out of her vambrace, straining you. You groan as you fight against the ropes until it budges a little, enough for you to slash it with your saber. You pull on the leftover rope, sending the challenger towards you and you punch her in the middle of the T-Visor of her helmet, sending her to the ground with a loud crack.

“That’s my girl!” Din cheers, earning snickers and adoration from the passer-by. Flustered behind his helmet, he nuzzles Aranar’s soft curls, pointing and narrating the fight to the baby. “That’s your momma, ad’ika. Isn’t she the best? Buir and momma will teach you just how to fight like that when you’re ready, ner ka’ra (my star). You’ll be unstoppable.” Din can't take his eyes off of his riduur (wife). You fight with grace, your steps calculated and you never miss your attack. Every hissing sound of lightsaber meeting beskar only adds to his love and adoration.

She shoots another round of blaster bolts and you deflect them all to the ground with the force, careful not to let stray bullets hit the crowd. You stalk over her, the tip of your saber dragging on the ground. You flick your hand and her blaster flies from her hand, crumpling in the air when you curl your hand into a fist and brings the tip of your saber up to her neck, so close to her pulse point. 

“Yield,” you command. She stutters, forfeiting the fight and scurrying back to the crowd.

“Anyone else want to challenge our clan?” Your question is met by silence and you smile, turning the saber off. Addressing the crowd to go back to their activity as the purple light disappear into the hilt of your lightsaber. 

Aranar lights up when he sees you, making a grabby hand and asking you for uppies. Smiling, you pepper the laughing boy’s cheeks with kisses and lift him up to your shoulder. Din leans his helmeted forehead to yours and leads his family away from the crowd.

“Hey, Kryze made Ar’ika swore back then.”

“By the force- Kryze!” 

Yeah, that’s my girl, Din smiles adoringly behind his helmet, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together before you can go smack some sense into Kryze.

-

[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."

[midnightdjarin]

din having the time of his life teasing you because you get jealous (din djarin x female reader)

i’ve been thinking a LOT about the episode in s1 called “the prisoner” where din meets up with that group and it’s hinted at that he (most likely) had a romantic relationship with xi’an… like imagine if you were with him at that moment…

you’ve been super irritated and crabby ever since it let slip that din had a past with xi’an. it was ridiculous and you would NEVER admit it to din, but wow, were you jealous.

you were convinced that the ex-imperial sharpshooter, mayfield was his name, was trying to instigate a fight, because man was he not helping things.

the two of you were looking at din and xi’an from across the room. she decided that it was a good idea to get real close and touchy. when her hand landed on his chest plate, you thought were about to tussle with a stranger.

“you’re just gonna let them do that?”, is what came out of mayfields mouth.

you cut a nasty glance at him, “i don’t need you as an instigator, imp.”

he just laughed, amused at how riled up you are, “no need for the attitude, princess.”

you didn’t even look at him as you deadpanned, “i’ll kill you.”

you had just about enough of this situation when you heard xi’an laugh, so you got up and walked towards them.

“are we ready for the mission, or do i need to set up a dinner table and candles for the two of you?”

you regretted saying it almost immediately. the internal cringe you were experiencing was intense. you were so incredibly jealous.

everyone got on the ship except for you and din. he hasn’t said a word to you. he had just stared silently at his surroundings until the two of you were alone.

you awkwardly nodded and looked at the ground, “so, xi’an huh?”

you thought for sure that he would be angry or embarrassed at your little tantrum moment, seeing as how he still hasn’t said a word. after a few seconds you see- his shoulders shaking? is he- is he laughing?

your suspicions are confirmed as soon as his laugh can be audibly heard, and you were puzzled to say the least.

“are you seriously laughing?”

he puts his hands on his hips and levels his visor at you, nodding his head, “yes.”

you thought for second to perhaps throttle him, but he was needed for this mission after all.

you grew frustrated, “I’m so glad that you think this is funny, din.”

his hands didn’t leave his hips, “cyare, listen to yourself. are you serious?”

you look at him, no amusement in your expression whatsoever.

he sighs, “look, mesh’la, yes, we have a past together, but not a good one. she was not and never will be right for me. you are right for me. you. only you.”

it’s your turn to sigh, “i’m sorry-“

dins hand goes to your chin, “don’t apologize. you getting all jealous and worked up over her was very entertaining. i love that little scrunch that your nose gets-“

you slap his hand away and roll your eyes but he keeps talking, “every woman in this galaxy could be standing in front of me, and i would spot you first, cyare, every time.”

you put on a small smile, “because of my huge forehead?”

“the biggest and prettiest forehead in the galaxy, really.”

“very funny.”

he lets out a soft chuckle then puts a hand on your shoulder, “i will love you and your big forehead even through death. now, let’s get this mission over with, and try not to kill xi’an, no matter how tempting.”

you chuckle as well, “okay, just make sure not to kill mayfield. he did refer to me as a princess earlier-“

his head whips in your direction, and you put on an innocent smile, “what? are you jealous?”

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Family - Din Djarin X GN Reader

Title: Family

Din Djarin X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Grogu

Drabble

WC: 500

Warnings: Maybe a bit bittersweet

You hummed softly as you held Grogu in your lap, letting his little grabby hands pull at your hair, making a mess of the strands that you had brushed earlier. You smiled as he giggled happily when he managed to grab a handful, twisting it around his little fingers. "Will you miss us?" You asked the child, who squeaked in return looking up at you with his big eyes. You nodded, smiling sadly, "Silly of me to ask that. Of course, you will." He cooed softly at that, reaching out to place his little hands on your cheeks. 

His little fingers were soft against your cheek. You were going to miss him so much. He was like your own son. No, he was your son. He was your baby. He was yours and Din's baby. You were both going to miss him so much. You would miss his smile, his laugh, his cute little noises, his cuddles, kisses, and his hugs. Even if you and Din were able to visit... It didn't matter, because you already missed him so much. 

He looked up at you, his large eyes shimmering with tears. His little lip quivered slightly but he kept them at bay. He couldn’t cry now. Not in front of you. If he cried, you would start crying. And then you wouldn't be able to stop. Grogu waddled closer to your lap, resting his head on your chest as you wrapped your hands around him, leaning down to nuzzle your face into his head gently.

Din watched after he climbed down the ladder, pausing at the beautiful scene before him. His family. You hold his son close, his son holding tightly onto his shirt, his son looking up at you with those big eyes. Din felt his heart clench in his chest, the overbearing weight of knowing he'd have to leave his son behind settling heavily on his shoulders. He shook his head, trying to clear away the dark thoughts clouding his mind. The last thing they needed right now was another sad moment. He needed to focus on the positive, that is, how happy you two looked and to enjoy the time he did have with Grogu.

Din wandered over, standing close beside you as he placed a warm hand on Grogu's back, making him babble. Din turned to you, his brown eyes soft. "What did he say?" He asked you as you continued to smile.

"Grogu said he misses you. You've been gone for a while." You answered, and Din hummed, turning back to his son.

"I've been charting our course, we'll arrive in two cycles." He explained to you, and you hummed in response.

"At least we'll have two more cycles together." You smiled, as Grogu reached out to Din, who immediately took him in his arms, cradling him securely against himself.

“Yes,” Din spoke up softly, peering down at Grogu with a small smile. “We will.” You simply smiled back, resting your head on Din’s shoulder.

[imnotselfryed]

hi there👋🏼 I saw your pinned post and I thought I should pop by with a request;

non-sexual touches with Din Djarin. maybe like he's showing reader how to fly the ship or he's helping her grab something from the top shelf and his hand's on the small of her back. idk, i just find it cute

I'll totally understand if you ignore this tho

Of course Anon! Din is just so AGSHSHSJ

Touches [d. djarin headcanons]

word count: 363

content/warnings: tooth rotting fluff

If you were to ever try to reach for a cup or something from the top shelf and you're like “damn it” and call for him, guarantee he’ll probably chuckle at you and with EASE?! gets the cup down for you.

he’ll hold the lower part of your back so you don’t try to hurt yourself and reach for it again

for sure will pick you up a bit to move you over so he can get the cup

after he gets it and hands it to you, he’ll even give you a peck on your forehead or a forehead touch (if he didn't have the helmet)😻

SPEAKING OF FOREHEAD TOUCHES

since my guy is super touch starved (i just know), and he can’t always take his helmet off, he does these super cute forehead touches where its either a small soft tap to your temple or putting his helmet to your forehead is how he shows his love

And oh boy if you guys are out in public HAHA where tf do you think you're going??

if you're in the market 100% no money back guarantee he’ll have his hand on your waist while walking and tighten his grip on it if something doesn’t feel right

he’ll also be right behind you if you have to actually shop and he is side eyeing everyone

you're hand will also be right in his as you walk

because you're his top priority (beside lil gogurt)

omg he’d absolutely adore teaching you how to fly the ship or use his pulse rifle

like he’d hold his hand on yours, what you're supposed to press, etc

nah but if you're sitting on his lap while flying the ship his arms are wrapped around you while you're (probably) wreaking havoc driving that thing like he’d be so proud

and if you shoot something with the rifle after learning how (especially at targets) HE’D BE LIKE “*SNIFFLES* THAT'S MY GIRL”

If it's now night and you're just cuddlin’ being cute while gogurt is sleeping in his hammock, he’ll probably play with your hair (long or short) he’ll run his fingers through it to help you relax <3

[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.”

[ddejavvu]

okay din djarin request! what about din being reader’s first kiss? with shy-ish reader maybe? he acts tough but I just know he’s a huge softie for shy!r

Technically, it might be a little unfair to sneak up on Din after his shower. Your feet graze slowly, carefully, over dirt and rocks, planting themselves in areas that will cut up the soles of your shoes the least. Then they hit tile, and you know you're approaching the showers. It's hard navigating with your eyes closed, but you'd rather ram into a wall than compromise Din's way of life.

Fortunately for you, you don't ram into a wall. You hear the sound of water being rung from a cloth, then a dry towel grating through Din's hair. God, you wonder, what color is his hair? What does it look like? Is it long? Is it short? Is it-

"Y/N?" You hear, Din's voice much less tinny without the helmet on. It's still deep, rough, though, and it sends a shiver up your spine. You startle, and you nearly drop your hands from over your eyes, but you catch yourself.

"You can't be here," Din scolds, already scrambling for his helmet, "I- You can't see me, not like this."

"My eyes are covered," You promise, and you hear him still, then shift, probably turning to face you.

"Did you need something?" Din asks, slightly less tense this time. It's still there, and you wish you could see the accompanying look on his face. Is it stern? Is it curious? Is it pretty? You bet it's pretty.

"I.." Now that you're here, you don't know what to say. You take a deep breath, pressing your hands further over your eyes, "I like you, Din."

He's silent; deathly so.

"And- I think you like me, too," Now you're glad you can't see his face, and you try to hide more of yours like you'll simply disappear, "And if I'm right... I want you to kiss me."

There's more silence, and you blabber to fill it: "I've never been kissed before. And I want you to do it, I- I want you to be my first."

"But if you don't want to," You feel pathetic now, shoulders sagging, lips trembling ever so slightly, "I guess I'll-"

"Stop." You hear, Din's voice suddenly inches away from you. You gasp, and your breath holds stiff in your chest.

A hand slides over your own, gentle in pressure but rough in texture. Din's hand keeps your hands pressed to your eyes, and his other comes to ghost against the underside of your chin.

It's better than you could have ever imagined. He tilts your chin up, soft and sweet, and his lips press against you hesitantly. You've never seen Din as anything but confident and stony, now you're sure if you opened your eyes and tore your hands away from your face you'd see a loverboy staring back at you. His lips are soft, but there's a mustache prickling against your skin. His kiss is such a sweet juxtaposition from his sleek armor, the beskar plating that you've dozed off against countless times since meeting and travelling with the Mandalorian.

He barely puts pressure there, he gives you just a taste. All he does is lock your lips, and hold it there. It lets you soak him in, and you hope he can feel the giddy adoration that you're pumping into the embrace.

Then, just as gently as he'd kissed you, he breaks away.

Cold air rushes to hit your lips, a chilling contrast from Din's warm, soft ones. He's still lingering by your face, you feel his breath on your skin, but he lets his hand slowly fall away from your own.

"Don't open your eyes," He warns, voice impossibly soothing and husky, "I want you to put my helmet on."

"Okay," You stammer, pressing your hands more flush to your face as his footsteps recede. Then you hear the scrape of metal on stone, and he pulls at your hands with a bare one of his own.

"Keep your eyes closed," He reminds you, "You need both hands."

"Okay," You nod, letting him peel your hands away from your eyes, though you keep them squeezed tightly shut.

"Feel it?" He asks, slipping his helmet between your hands. You nod, fingers tracing the curves you've only explored with your eyes before now.

"Reach up," He tells you, pushing your elbow. You do as you're told, and he takes hold of your forearms to guide the helmet over his head.

Lowering it feels like hell. You feel like he's slipping away from you, like whatever connection you'd had will disappear with his lips. But his hands stay on your arms even after you secure the helmet on his head, and he takes your face in his hands.

Gently he thumbs at your eyelids, voice once more filtered through his helmet, "You can open your eyes now."

A familiar sleek design greets you when your eyes open, albeit a blurry one from how hard you'd been squeezing them shut. Your eyes linger on the horizontal stripe, where you know his eyes are beneath the helmet, wishing you could gaze into them and see his soul through them.

All you can do is lean forwards again, pressing a soft kiss to the cold beskar, where his cheek would be. He keeps his hands on your face, but he lets you pucker your lips against his helmet, and you hope that he's blushing beneath the metal armor.

[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.

-

-