yes-im-gushing

[yes-im-gushing]

Prompt number 9 with Din Djarin? I want to be hurt right now and you write him in the best possible way 🫡

Mistakes

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompt: "I know, I know it hurts." (@promptsbytaurie)

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You cursed as you turned the corner and lost your footing, stumbling into the alley. You failed to regain your balance, instead tumbling down to the stony ground. It tore at your skin underneath your tunic and pants as you at least tried to roll out of the clumsy maneuver, but it was no use.

As soon as you managed to get back to your feet, you were already pinned down by your three pursuers.

Great. You kept your blaster raised even as your shoulders fell in defeat.

You had tried to tell him you were no good for his crew. You didn't have enough training. Hells, he was still training you in any spare time the two of you had, which wasn't much by any means.

Now, here you were, no doubt about to force him into a bargaining position that would make him choose between you and the kid. Thank the Force you had decided to leave the baby in the Crest for this outing.

"Drop the blaster." The hunter snarled as he gestured with his own blaster to the ground. "Now."

You let out a huff and bent down until you were able to set the blaster onto the ground. You kicked it forward, sending it skidding across the stony surface until it found its place underneath another one of the hunters' boots. You kept your hands lifted in surrender, expecting one or two of them to come and cuff you, but they didn't move.

They were waiting, and they were right to, because he would come. He had already been on his way when you had last commed him.

It didn't take long. You could see the reflection of the alley's dim lighting on his armor before he was even fully in view. Din held his blaster out, but two of the hunters still had theirs trained on you, and the third was aimed at Din.

"This is how it's going to go, Mandalorian." The hunter that had spoken to you sneered and pointed towards Din's blaster. "You're gonna put that blaster down and tell us where the asset is, and we won't shoot and kill your friend here."

One of the hunter's blasters clicked. You closed your eyes and let out a shaky exhale, forcing yourself to be calm. It was your own fault you were in this position, anyway.

"I don't think so."

Din's voice was hard, cold, and dangerous. It was so low that it rumbled through his vocoder, threatening enough to bring a chill to your skin. You wouldn't want to be on the other side of his words.

One of the hunters suddenly shot the ground just beside your foot. You gasped in surprise, jumping at the jarring action before making yourself freeze again.

"Don't think we won't shoot, Mando."

Din's helmet tilted slowly. "Don't think I won't shoot, either."

The hunter chuckled. "You take one shot at us, and two of our own go right through their heart."

Finally, for the first time since appearing in the alley, Din's visor met your gaze. You pleaded with him, even if you didn't know what you were asking for. Of course, the human part of you wanted to be saved, but you were the one who had gotten yourself into this mess. He should protect the kid and leave you to your fate.

Din gave his helmet a subtle shake, as if he had somehow been following along with your own thoughts. You grimaced, but weren't given any more time to get anything else across.

"Where's the asset?"

Din adjusted his grip on his blaster, but otherwise remained perfectly still. He didn't respond, instead assessing the situation further as he let his visor scan over everyone.

"Answer," the hunter also clicked his blaster and pointed it towards you, "the question."

Din growled. "Don't..."

He couldn't even get the rest of his hostile warning out. The hunter's blaster lowered and he fired a clean shot straight at your leg.

The force of it instantly brought you to the ground as you cried out in both shock and pain. The air was also knocked from your lungs as you landed awkwardly, unfortunately unable to move due to the fiery agony that sprouted from your thigh through the rest of your veins like wildfire.

You half-gasped and half-sobbed as a pain like nothing you'd ever felt before consumed you and muffled the rest of the galaxy around you. It took several heartbeats, made audible with the blood rushing in your eyes, for you to even consider paying attention to everything else that was going on.

You tried to lift your head and look up, but a gentle hand eased it back down.

"Easy, easy." Din's voice was breathless, but also more gentle than you had ever heard it before. "Breathe. Just breathe."

You winced and still tried to move, despite his reassurance. "But... the hunters..."

"They've been dealt with."

The pure vitriol in Din's words was a stark contrast to the caring way in which he helped you roll out of your awkward positioning on the hard ground. You were soon laid out on your back, looking up only to find his helmet staring back at you with concern that no amount of beskar could ever hide.

"You're safe now."

You wished you could have controlled the pitiful whimpers that left you as more of your adrenaline faded and made room for the pain to blossom even more, but it wasn't something you could control. Your lips trembled as you lifted your fists and lowered them upon your closed eyes.

"I'm sorry." You were still gasping and sobbing as you spoke, something that both pain and shock were no doubt responsible for. "This is my fault. I'm—."

"Don't say that." Din was firm, but no less gentle as he brushed a gloved hand over your head. "That's not true."

He had no time to reassure you further. Din let out a steady exhale, and as you lowered your fists from your face, you saw him giving the alley a quick glance.

"The shots drew attention. We need to leave."

Din looked down to carefully maneuver his arms underneath you, with one steadying your legs as the other supported your back. As soon as he lifted you, your injured leg was jostled, making you cry out as you grasped onto his cowl.

"I know, I know it hurts." Din remained careful even as he swiftly began to move away from the scene. "Just breathe. It'll be over soon."

You closed your eyes and did your best to obey his command. Darkness pulled at the edges of your swimming vision whenever you tried to reopen your eyes, and though you wanted to warn Din that you were falling under, there was no way for you to speak. Your tongue grew too thick for your mouth, and before you knew it, you had succumbed to the darkness wholeheartedly.

When you woke again, you were already on the Crest. You let out a quiet groan as the cargo hold's dim lights burned your eyes that had adjusted to total darkness. It took a few confused seconds for you to remember what had happened, and when you did, you instantly lifted your head from the soft material supporting it and looked around.

Din was nearby, but he was pacing the floor of the hold beside the makeshift cot he had set you upon, his gloved hands pulling tight into fists over and over again with each long stride. You tried to speak to get his attention, but all your dry throat had to offer was a series of coughs.

That at least accomplished your goal of getting Din's attention. He abruptly stopped pacing and instead hurried over to your side. He picked up a canteen and set his other gloved hand on the back of your neck, helping you to drink until you were able to reassure him with a nod.

"Thanks." You steadied yourself with a breath as you sat up fully.

Din's visor never once left you as he gave you a worried once-over. "How do you feel?"

You blinked a few times and honestly assessed your body. The fierce burning agony that had been blossoming from your leg was now reduced to a dull ache, the kind that indicated healing. You nodded at Din.

"Better."

Din let out a visible breath that eased the tension in his armored shoulders. "Good." He hesitated. "It was... they got you good."

You huffed and ran your hand over your head. "Sure, but blacking out from a shot to the leg is still pretty embarrassing."

Din's helmet tilted at you incredulously. "You got shot."

You scoffed. "You get shot every other day."

"I have armor. That's completely different."

"Still. Din..."

You inhaled a breath and willed the exhale to be just as steady, but it wasn't. Your gaze fell to the Crest's floor as you shook your head.

"Something worse could've happened all because I couldn't stay upright, and because I couldn't adapt after the shot went off." You held your arms as if you were trying to make yourself smaller. "I told you that bringing me into your crew was a mistake."

Din didn't respond right away. The silence that hung in the air was tense, and you focused on the way your hands fumbled in your lap as you waited for him to say something. Instead, he moved closer, still remaining silent as his glove brushed against your chin.

Your gaze rose to meet his visor, and Din's grasp on your chin tightened as he held it with his hand. Only then did he speak, his voice so soft that it barely even passed through his vocoder.

"I didn't make a mistake." He gently tugged on your chin until your forehead met the cool beskar of his helmet. "I chose you." His gloved thumb ran over your lips. "You."

You closed your eyes and let out another breath, too overwhelmed by the weight of his honest and vulnerable words to say or do anything else. Din also exhaled, though it was more relieved than anything else.

"All that matters is that you're okay. I couldn't... I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you weren't."

You reopened your eyes at that. Din was never one to admit to anything like that, especially as someone who had seen the worst things the galaxy had to offer—and who had dealt some of the most vicious himself.

"I'm okay." Your voice was light as air as you nodded at him. You gently pulled him closer with your arms wrapped around his neck, resting your head upon his cowl as you kissed a small sliver of his skin. "I'm gonna be okay."

Din just let out another breath, though the weight of his helmet against your head spoke for him. For as responsible as you felt in all this, he felt that weight just as much, if not more. It was a burden you both had to share, lest it consume you whole.

If only he knew how many more blaster bolts you would take if it meant keeping him, and the child in his care, safe—and how much his words of reassurance healed your heart.

[yes-im-gushing]

new perspective

pairing || Din Djarin x f!Reader

word count || 2.8k

summary || teaching the infamous Mandalorian to slow down and enjoy life isn't easy. it takes planning, patience - and silken sheets apparently.

content || SMUT, domesticity, simple pleasures, shower sex, sensual massages (i'm incorrigible), p in v sex, cowgirl position 🤠, slow sweet sex, post-orgasm planning for the future (this is din, after all)

a/n || i know, i know. i can hear it all now. "mel, where the fuck have you been???" celebrating my graduation and then immediately devolving into an existential crisis. but that's okay! not only have i figured out my direction in life, but i've returned with everyone's favorite topic: simping for Din Djarin.

Din Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Library Blog

Din Djarin is not a man who knows how to take his time. He’s a workhorse, constantly on the go from one job to the next. He simply never learned the skill of savoring the little things in life. A good meal, a hot shower, a full night’s rest, leisure time. All of those things are simply a stranger to him. Any pleasure he takes, usually at his own hand, is perfunctory at best, a release of tension for its own sake.

Until you.

It starts simple - a set of silken sheets that you bring onto the Crest. Din returns to find you sprawled out on the small bed you share with a sleepy smile that makes his chest feel funny. Your fingers fan out against the soft material.

“Come feel.” You murmur. He doesn’t hesitate to tug off the thick leather gloves and brush the fabric with the back of his fingers. You watch as his shoulders soften, his head tilting as he takes in the foreign feeling. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” He says contemplatively. “It’s soft.”

Your smile widens and you shift over, making room for your lover. “Join me?”

“In a bit,” Din promises. The chill of his beskar soaks into your skin as he presses his forehead to yours. His warm palm cups your cheek and he holds you there for a breath before pulling away. “I have some more work to do.”

It isn’t hard to convince him to strip down when he joins you later that night. He’s exhausted, body aching from a long day’s work. He lets you strip away his armor and flight suit until he’s left in his briefs. You’re used to him falling asleep the moment he collapses into bed - but tonight is different. His eyebrows raise in surprise when he relaxes back into the pillows, his fingers rubbing circles against new sheets. Din is a man of few words but it’s obvious how much he likes the new addition to the bedroom.

“Come here,” He whispers, beckoning you to join him. The tension melts from his body as you curl up against his side. He tilts your chin up and kisses you softly, a wordless offer of his thanks that you eagerly accept. Surrounded by the cool sheets and the woman he loves, he falls asleep within minutes. That morning, Din lingers in bed for those first drowsy moments after waking. He wakes you with a few gentle caresses of his hands over your shoulder and arm and a murmur of your name. He looks more rested than usual.

You make sure to buy matching pillowcases the next time you’re out.

With every passing day, Din learns how to slow down and savor the morning. It doesn’t take much to keep him in bed with you a little longer each morning - a few soft touches and sweet kisses, and Din sinks right back into your arms. He rubs his face into the crook of your neck and drifts in and out of sleep, practically purring with every brush of your fingers through his hair. His voice, so deep and rough first thing in the morning, rumbles low in his chest as he murmurs his love into your skin. It’s simple, this early morning peace the two of you share. So simple, but so important.

You slip into the shower with him one random evening. You can’t help it. He’s been gone for two days straight on a bounty hunt and you’ve missed him. His eyes light up with interest as they trail over your naked body, his hands finding your waist and tugging you against him. A shiver of desire arcs up your spine - but you didn’t come here to get fucked silly in the shower. Well, not yet at least. You loop your arms around his shoulders and press up on your toes to kiss him properly. Din groans against your lips, already moving to press you against the shower wall. A gentle tug on his hair is enough to stop him in his tracks.

“Can I wash your hair?” You ask, looking up at him like the picture of innocence.

Din blinks at you, confused. “You want to… wash my hair?”

“Yeah,” You say softly.

There’s no need to over-explain. The two of you have mastered this silent communication over the months you have spent together. He searches your face for a moment before his expression softens, implicit permission given in the way his eyes shine for you. You gently lather shampoo into his thick curls and let your nails drag along his scalp in the way he loves. His eyelashes flutter under your touch but his eyes don’t close. He’s too intent on watching you. The grip he has on your hips tightens as you work, little groans falling from his lips at the simple pleasure of your hands on his body.

He lets you maneuver him and tilt his head back into the water without a hint of resistance. For a man so used to keeping everyone at arm's length, the trust he holds for you is plain as day. His cock twitches against your belly as your fingers meticulously work the suds from his hair. The barest hint of your skin against his is enough to get him riled up, but this…? The press of your slick, bare body pressed against his? His body language begs for more. He leans into the press of your fingers and cants his hips forward, slowly grinding against you with stuttered breaths.

The moment the water runs clear, Din lifts you by your thighs and presses you against the cold shower wall. You can’t help but admire the bulge of his biceps as he leverages you up and nudges your entrance with the head of his cock, searching your face for permission. The hungry kiss you drag him into is all the permission he needs. A new rush of adrenaline seizes his body as he sinks into you. He fucks you hard and fast, pace faltering at the pure heaven of your body. He wedges his hand between your bodies and rubs insistent circles against your clit. He just knows your body too well - within minutes, those frantic bursts of pleasure built into a powerful orgasm that leaves you trembling and weak in his arms.

Din buries his face in the crook of your neck as he spills inside of you just seconds later. Every moan and panted breath echoes through the small shower. You shiver at the feeling of his lips pressed against your neck. He always knows just where to kiss and touch to leave you like putty in his hands. He goes willingly when you guide him in for a real kiss, lazy and slow as the water streams against you. Careful not to let you slip, he lowers you onto your feet and maneuvers you until the water pounds against your back.

You should have expected him to return the favor. Din doesn’t take no for an answer.

“It’s your turn.” He murmurs, too adamant and stubborn to be swayed. You’ve always loved that about him, even when it gives you grief.

You melt into his chest as he works product into your hair, his fingers massaging at your scalp in a way you didn’t even know you needed. Little sounds of satisfaction fall from your lips with every touch. Sometimes you forget just how big his hands are. He palms the back of your head and draws you close enough that your noses brush, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. He just watches you for a moment as he thoroughly washes your hair. He takes in the way you look up at him with an expression so full of love that he aches.

“I love you,” His voice is so low that it almost gets lost in the thrum of water, but you hear it. He can tell by the way your eyes light up, by the soft smile that curls your lips.

“I love you, too.” You whisper back. Din kisses you softly before tilting your head back and rinsing the suds from your hair.

Slowly but surely, you introduce Din to a life he never realized was possible. He learns how to revel in the attention and care you give him. He learns how to give it in return. His thoughts always return to you when he’s on a bounty, knowing he has to return to his little love waiting for him at his ship. Every now and then, he finds something to bring back to you - a little trinket, some sweets, a new book. You always look at him as if he’s placed the entire universe in the palm of your hands. Fuck, he would do it, too. Anything to see you so happy.

Din returns from a week-long bounty exhausted, sore, and with a little gift in hand. It’s just a new robe, something soft and airy for you to wear on those long nights in hyperspace. You gasp softly when he hands it to you, your fingers exploring the silky fabric as if it’s precious - and to you, it is. Not because it’s some rare or expensive treasure. Just because it comes from him.

Allowing you to remove his armor is as easy as breathing. He eagerly accepts every touch and kiss you give him, more than happy to let you do as you please. You set every piece of armor aside with care and neatly fold his flight suit. It doesn’t take any convincing to get him into the shower with you. The burning heat of the water soothes some of the aches that linger in his muscles. A dull throb still follows his every move but he powers through, not wanting to spoil such a pleasant evening with his lover.

He never really learned that he can’t hide anything from you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask as he eases himself onto the edge of the bed.

“Just sore,” He concedes, slowly rolling his shoulders in a vain effort to ease the tension. Your eyebrows furrow as you look him over with a keen eye. All you wear is that scrutinizing expression and the pretty robe he got you, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful. He sighs and reaches for your hand. “Come on, let’s just get some sleep.”

“You can’t sleep if you’re this uncomfortable.” You squeeze his shoulder, frowning when you feel how tight his muscles are. “Let me help.”

Din meets your gaze, your eyes so earnest that he doesn’t even think to deny you. He lets you maneuver him as you please until he’s laid out on his belly with you straddling his hips. A low groan rumbles through his chest when your hands bear down on his shoulders. Every pass of your fingers brings a strange combination of pleasure and pain that leaves him melting into the bed.

Even after all these months, he just isn’t used to the feeling of your skin against his. A simple passing touch is enough to have him shivering, but this? It’s overwhelming, all-consuming in the best possible way. It doesn’t take long for that pain to melt away into pure pleasure. Breathless, needy sounds follow every pass of your fingers. He can't help but rock his hips, grinding his cock into the silken sheets.

By the time you've finished working your thumbs into his lower back, you've reduced the Mandalorian beneath you into a desperate, hungry mess. He goes without hesitation when you urge him onto his back. His hands immediately find your hips and he grinds up into the heat of your cunt. The only thing that stops him from flipping you over and fucking you into the sheets is the gentle hand you place on his chest.

“Let me.” You whisper. Your voice carries a soft thrum of need that leaves him aching. “Let me take care of you.”

His fingers tighten at your hips at the mere brush of your fingers against his cock. That grip becomes bruising as you slowly sink onto him. Pleasure curls through his belly at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him, so hot and slick and perfect - it would be so easy to lose his mind in the rapture of your body. It isn’t easy to keep his eyes open under the onslaught of pleasure, but it’s well worth it. He’s rewarded with the sight of your jaw falling slack and a shiver wracking your body. The stretch, the angle - it’s all new to you. You aren’t used to taking him this way. He isn’t used to letting you.

You sigh a breathy, pleased little sound that makes his heart skip a beat or two. Fuck, you might just be the death of him one of these days. It’s a demise he welcomes if it means meeting his end at your hands. That first roll of your hips has his head tipping back into the pile of fluffy pillows, yet another addition of comfort you’ve brought to this bed. You can’t take your eyes off him - the flex of his biceps, the clench of his jaw, the sheen of sweat that glistens on his tan skin. A delicious vision of the man you’ve come to love so dearly. You lean down and press a kiss to his chest, his collarbone, to that sweet spot where his pulse thrums in his neck.

Your fingers comb through his curls, bringing his pleasure-clouded gaze back to your own. His lips part as you set a slow, steady pace. Every rise and fall of your hips makes his eyelashes flutter but he doesn’t look away. He’s too entranced by this, by the pure newness of it all. Heat pulses and courses through your belly with every grind of your clit against him, grows stronger with every needy sound you pull from him. His chin tips up, an obvious plea, and you kiss him. Soft and slow, full of tongue and teeth.

Din doesn’t think he’s ever experienced anything quite as overwhelming as this. He isn’t a stranger to the feeling of your body or the love you somehow hold for him, but this is all new. Every slow rock of your hips sends honeyed pleasure slinking down his spine. There’s no need to rush. He can take his time and truly feel you, revel in the plushness of your thighs and the wet heat of your cunt. For the first time, he lets himself explore your body unhurried. His hands drift up and palm your breasts, his fingers rolling your nipple with a gentle touch. Your head tips back as you hum a pleased little sound.

Din can’t help but press his hips up, rising every time yours fall. He doesn’t take control, doesn’t try to set a faster pace. He just moves with you as fluid as rushing water. His hands shift to cup your ass, his fingers digging in and spreading you out for him. Desire clouds your gaze as he grinds his hips at that perfect angle that makes you see stars. You’re so close - he can feel it in the telltale rhythmic pulse of your cunt, in the way your thighs tremble. Slick drips in little rivulets down his thighs.

“Perfect, so perfect,” He rambles between rushed breaths. “My sweet girl, all mine.”

“Yours,” You promise. “I’m yours.”

All it takes is one perfect rock of his hips to have you falling apart for him. That tension finally bursts through your belly, your cunt tightening around him with every aching wave of pleasure. You lose all sense, all ability to keep your pace, but Din is quick to take over. His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you down, spilling himself as deep as your body can take him. You let yourself melt into his chest, a wave of pleasure shuddering through you with every twitch of his spent cock.

Din locks his arms around your back, all too content to keep your body against his. No complaint comes from you. You just tuck your face into his neck with a spent sigh. The two of you float together in that sweet, exhausted haze. He doesn’t know for how long, but he never wants it to end. He never wants any of this to end. He wants this forever, for every possible moment of his life to be soaked in this contentment. Surrounded by soft sheets and the smell of your perfume. Unhurried and easy, with you.

Months ago, such a realization would have thrown him into an existential crisis. But he didn’t have you all those months ago - this sweet, bright-eyed, spitfire of a woman currently taking a cat nap on his chest. He didn���t have the sweet scent of your shampoo infused in his sheets. He didn’t have your soft exhales ghosting along his throat. He just didn’t know that life could be like this. The moment you shift as if you’re making to get off of him, his arms tighten around you.

“Just a little longer,” He murmurs, his voice sleepy and pleasure drunk.

You're more than happy to indulge him.

[yes-im-gushing]

The truth of it 🤣

[yes-im-gushing]

Memories

Din djarin x f!reader

rated: M

Childhood friends to lovers meet later in life.....kinda

Bo-Katan said that there were different versions of the creed, Din has come to accept that. As he walks through the ever growing camp of Mandalorians gathering on the land over the decimated ruins of Mandalore.

There is a part of him that has lived in isolation for too long, that cringes at the sight of so many people gathered.

This many living mandalorians is a blessing and Din will not scorn that. Even when the clashes break out. Clans with long histories of conflict have to stand side by side now. If his faction, so secluded even before the war, could stand with those that bare their faces, then the other could see past their differences. Past the colors and marking of their armor. Past the names and faces. Past the petty scuffles.

They are all one now.

He chafes past the expectations of his own creed. He stands besides the Nightowl and unites their people under an elected leadership.

The exact rules of his creed have not left his mind for days. His faction has the most rules, the owls claim. They are the most conservative, the strictest. Their ceremonies are things left in echoes from the race before humans walked this twice dead, twice reborn planet.

The basics of the creed are something they all agree on. Loyalty and honor to your clan. Adherence to rank. To be honest and trustworthy. To always offer aid to another in Beskar. To honor, protect, and provide for your clan. To protect and adhere to the code of finding. To be responsible in all things. And to train others.

It was the finer rules that varied. The helmet and adherence to it was the most obvious. Most factions no longer followed this rule. Only two other than Din's own. Many had differing ranking systems, putting elders and trophy hunters above armorers, Or determined rank through challenge.

Some were loose in their definitions of a clan, they collected members more like a fire team. Not taking any oath or public acknowledgment of their clan. They bore no marks of their clans. They coupled and uncoupled freely without the bonds of marriage. They raised no young but their own.

Din could not imagine growing up without others training beside him. The fighting core had not been a clan. Their version of the creed had also been looser than the watch's, but he was surrounded by others, his own age to spar with, to fight and hate and respect as they were changed.

He thinks that was the last time he was surrounded by so many others. The solitude of his adulthood so different than standing among the ranks. That was the first time he loosed his grip on his identity. Being a cadet instead of Din Djarin. That was before his ceremony. Before he took the creed.

It had been difficult to give those parts up. First his home, then his name, his future, his body, eventually his life.

The other cadets had indulged here and there, drinking in all they could of life until they would be sent back to their clans. Made new under their helmets. The creeds they would take were different then too. The similarities were in the preservation of their fighting spirit.

Some cadets had bragged about the things they would get to keep. Their exposed faces, their families, their homes, lives, their short lived teen romances, freedoms Din knew he wouldn't know.

There was a group of them, the more conservative children. Seven in his grade. They gathered only to avoid the others. To call each other by their names while they still had them. To touch their faces and breath fresh air while they could.

Din doesn't remember any of it. Names or faces, such unimportant details.

He does remember a long black braid and green skin. Mirialans were rare all through the galaxy. They rarely left their home planet and certainly never colonized other planets. To see one with their head uncovered was even more of a shock.

He never knew what color their hair was until he saw her long braid swaying against the movement of her body.

Even among the outsiders like himself she was isolated. Her founder was from an aggressive and strict clan. According to the gossip, he'd found her in a slaver's cage. Normally a Mirialan would be returned to their people, after all the closed borders planet would always welcome a member of their own species back. But her founded was also Mirialan and had wanted an heir. Most clans would consider this a breach of the finder's code, to keep a child that could be returned. Her clan was different.

More than her skin convinced the others that she did not belong.

Din had too much of his own business to mind to reach out to the girl. He was never much of a savior. But he could offer her a tension-less silence whenever they were in proximity.

For as little as he offered her, he can't imagine why she noticed him at all.

She spent most of her time like he did, quiet, alone. training or eating she focused on the task and moved along when it was finished. The model of the perfect student. Not breaking a single rule with the others.

No one even knew her name.

They couldn't tell what she was giving up, maybe nothing. Maybe she already had everything taken from her and there was nothing left to mourn.

Din knew though. He knew because of every other cadet in their grade she had chosen to share it with him.

Not in words.

The girl who had nothing to loose had everything to gain. anything at all.

Some cheeky cadets managed to snag kisses and other scandalous moments together. Some bragged about the ones they would return to when they finished their training. Sometimes arranged pairs and sometimes not. Some bragged of their clans lax rules around such matters.

Din did not. The watch had strict rules of pairing. Outside of the Riduurok. When he was officially a Mandalorian, after he took the creed, they would decide when and if he was eligible to be paired.

And anything before would be risky beyond logic for little reward. The instructors were vigilant in their watch of the cadets, having so many of them housed in such proximity.

running into the Mirialan girl had been nothing more than coincidence. He'd gotten in an altercation with another cadet, cut his face open on the other boys fist. He'd been patched up and sent to the laundry to wash the blood out of his shirt.

She was already there, sheets bunched in her arms, smelling of the blood removing cleaner even from where he stood uncertain in the doorway.

They did not speak. She stepped to the side, facing the table to reapply the solution to the fabric and scrub at the blood. He hesitated before he pulled his shirt over his head and stepped to the table, leaving a respectable distance between them. Silently she passed him the solution and moved to the basin to scrub the sheets with cold water.

Her sheets went in the washer and she held the door open for him to throw his shirt in as well.

He expected her to close the door, start the wash. Instead her hands moved with only a moment of hesitance to her waist and then her pants were off as well, slightly bloody, they went into the wash.

Din was frozen, all the swirling pubescent hormones Waring with the standard he'd held himself to before now.

She turned back to the table and hauled herself to the damp surface, her knees parting and affording him a view of her glistening red slit. He is too young and too far into puberty to resist such an invitation.

outside of sparring she rarely made the effort to look any of them in the eye, but in that moment she looked right through him. Her dark eyes more hypnotizing than any temptation he's ever faced.

He is not a mandalorian yet, and he is breaking no creed yet. He thinks as he swells hard in his pants, the air suddenly too cool on his shirtless chest.

---

It had been a youthful rebellion. He wasn't proud of it. And in his lowest spiritual moments, he was even ashamed.

But it wasn't a memory he could fully cast from his mind. His first encounter with sex was a scene more salivating than many that came later. It wasn't his only rebellious period. A few years after he'd been appointed beroya for the covert he'd become lonely and bitter. He'd allowed himself to become associated with honorless criminals. He fell to a handful of temptations in that time.

But he hadn't enjoyed it. Most acts of rebellion were not dissimilar to intoxicants. Sex, violence, and reckless stunts. There was a certain thrill to it. A temptation to try, but often in the throws of it all Din felt was dissatisfaction.

It was all an outlet for unpleasant emotions, but when they were all drained away there was nothing else to fill the space. He only felt empty.

Moving forward he'd dedicated himself to truly being a pious man. He performed his labor for the covert. Dedicated his efforts to the care and raising of the next generation.

All he had to sustain himself in the quiet moments were his memories. Though sometimes he would use memories of Xi'an and the other woman to get where he needed to go, they were not exactly pleasant memories.

As juvenile as it was, her prefers the older memory. Worn with use and faded around the edges. It holds more than the quick rutting did. It holds sensations. Strong hands on his arms. A smell like strong tea and leather. The softness of skin beneath his bare palms.

He's thought of it so many times, constructed her piece by piece. Green skin flushed dark. A long black braid draped over one shoulder. A heel pulling at his shin. Hands holding his pants by the waistband. A glistening red slit breaking open on his cock.

It's all just fragments. But they're familiar and so deeply ingrained in him now. Even the sway of a dark braid can get him hard. Too many days spent amongst the night owls with their helmets off and he has to close himself into his ship. Fuck his fist until he can behave like a man again.

-

She's made of fragments he's sure of it. The woman in the purple armor. She's the founder of one his students. She isn't of the watch, but she keeps her helmet on. She observes his training, sometimes participates. When her long braid isn't tucked under the strap over her shoulder for combat, it's loose and long behind her back.

Black as night and swaying with her movements. Every inch of her skin is covered and he does not recognize her clan symbol. She is not recognizable. She's just blurry around the edges, unknowable in the same way the girl from his memories is. She adheres to the code. Well enough that he knows nothing about her. As well he shouldn't.

But he can't help himself when she creeps into his memories. The worn out picture of the girl so faded and conceptual in his mind filling out into her shape. It's shameful how he moans at the thought. A tangible women a better fantasy.

He will behave like a man he promises himself. Refusing to let his sight wonder in her direction as she instruct the younger group on blaster safety. He will not leer like some drunkard in the streets. He minds his own group. Keeps his mind on the task.

She does not socialize with him anyway. Preferring to retire to her own room like him. She only speaks to him when necessary. Approaching him the first day to make introductions. "You're Din right?"

He hadn't asked for her name then, but she'd offered it anyways.

He refuses to think about it. Won't let the fantasy become solid all the way through. Won't let himself think the name as he cums all over his lap.

It's just bits and pieces. The way that the girl's braid over her shoulder had become wrapped around his hand like Xi'an's head tail had been. He imagines a boot digging into his shin. Instead of a bare heel.

But he won't let it become the woman. Not fully. Not clearly.

-

The kid would not settle down tonight. It was late now and he still had things to do. His clothes were filthy from the training grounds and there were dishes piling up. He needed to tidy up and have his diner. There were others drinking and socializing in the hall. Some private rooms filled with friends and clan members still loud at this time of night.

Din passed by them discreetly, hoping not to be caught by a friendly drunk. He dropped a bag of garbage down the shoot to the incinerator. Freeing up a hand to palm the sensory for the laundry room door. It slid open revealing an empty room. He shuffled his things into one of the machines checking the pockets as he went. Not wanting anything to damage the machine. He was closing the thing and thumbing the settings when the door slid open behind him.

Boots passed by him, stopping at another machine and stuffing a load in. There was enough blood rushing in his ears that they felt warm.

This wasn't one of his memories. He needed to get a hold of himself. Feeling caught, even though he was only standing there, he continued to start the machine. standing straight when he was finished.

He turned back to the door, not looking to see who else had entered when he noticed it. The red light on the side of the scanner panel. The door had been locked. Din stopped abruptly.

His hand reaching for a blaster that wasn't there. But there was a knife in his boot if it came to it. He did turn now, to assess the danger.

It was the woman in purple. But the edges of the heated fantasy were not blurry and comforting now. They were sharp. She'd locked the door. Locked both of them in here together. It was a petty move really. He could just as easily hit the switch and unlock it. It wouldn't take a second. But he was cautious now.

She finished starting her machine and turned to him now, the table still between them. She rested her hands on the table, tilting her visor at him. "You are Din Djarin aren't you?"

He nodded once.

"Do you remember me?"

He said nothing. Not sure what there was to say in a situation like this. He had no idea what her intentions were. His mind running through so many sinister and sexy possibilities.

She didn't continue. Waiting and watching him. Looking for any tells.

After a moment she stood straighter and backed up until she reached the bit of counter meant for folding clothes, then she braced both her hands on the edge and climbed up on it. Her knees spread open in front of him.

"Do you remember?" she asks again. Breathlessness apparent through the vocoder.

He is a man. He will act like one. But this is better than his memories. This is a real woman. And he is a real man.

He approaches.

His hands pulled to the plates over her thighs. He doesn't even look at them, doesn't know what they look like. The very identity of a Mandalorian is crafted into the angles of their armor. Does she wear knee guards for heavy artilery? Does she have trauma plating? Are there colors or designs there that speak about her life?

He can't tear his gaze away from the tilt of her helmet. The way the visor narrows in the corners like a coy look. The way the braid hangs loose over her shoulder.

Her knees slide around his hips like they were made to fit there. So different than any memory of knobby knees. Everything is being over written now. Cloudy half sensations falling from his mind at this new stimuli.

The heat of her seeps through the fabric of her pants, even under the armor. Her hands slide up his chest plate. Spreading leather covered fingers over his shoulders.

"Do you remember me?" she asks again. Her voice crackling in a strained way.

His hand rises from her thigh and gently curls over the long braid running his thumb down the center of it reverently.

"The laundry room, when we were in training?" he asks, unsure despite everything.

He feels her helmet nod once while his gaze falls to his hand wrapped around her hair.

Does he remember? it seems like such a stupid question. He remembers it every time he wraps his hand around his cock. But maybe...maybe he doesn't. Maybe he only remembers a version he made up, added to over the years as all the real details were lost to time. He doesn't remember her being so warm.

He doesn't remember thighs around his waist like this. Doesn't remember the arch of her throat the way it stretches out before him now.

Her hand slides down his abdomen, muted by the layers he was wearing. But when the heel of her palm presses hard against the line of his cock he can't help the shudder that rattles him.

His hand tugging her braid absently.

"Didn't think you'd remember me." He confesses.

"Never, stopped thinking about you." She hisses.

Din shudders a laugh grabbing her wrist and pulling it away from his bulge before she tries to rub him to completion through his pants. "Couldn't have been that good for you."

She tilts her helmet at him. "The rutting? no. You were good though."

Din is too distracted by the glint of her visor, the bareness of her words, the feeling of her wrist in his hand. That's why her second hand surprises him when it tugs him closer, pressing him tight to the space between her legs.

It takes him a moment to find his voice, "Me?"

She nods. "So quiet and well behaved. Used to slam me into the dirt and offer me a hand up. Eat our lunch together in perfect silence. Never asked stupid questions. Never tried to kiss me behind the climbing wall."

His next laugh is confused. "That does it for you?'

"Respect? Honor, manners, skill? Principles, dedication? Din you treated me like a Mandalorian before I was one. Then I went and gave you my virginity." She shrugs. "It's hard to forget that."

"Why? I never understood that."

She tilts her helmet forward into his shoulder. Not a keldabe but close enough. "Because you didn't ask. Never asked for anything. Never acted like you deserved anything."

"I-I didn't"

Her head raises and Din lets go of her wrist as she leans back on her hands. "Do you now?"

"Do I-?"

"Deserve it? Do you deserve it?"

"No one deserves it."

she hums leaning towards him again, her voice pitched lower this time. "Then, do you want it?"

Din has to swallow around the clog of words that rush up his throat. He manages to squeak out an undignified "yes" as her boot knocks into his calf.

He can feel her grin. Feel it the same way he can feel his own grin behind his helmet. The way he can feel Boba's or even Paz's sarcastic grins.

He feels it like the grind of her heel into his leg as she tilts her helmet back to look him right in the visor. "I'll bet you've learned a thing or two since then. Why don't you show me?"

Din can feel the determination in his hands. In the way that they curl against the metal washing machine. He wants to get his hands on her- in her as quickly as possible.

But there's one more thing in the way. A mandalorian's armor is made to be hard to remove by anyone but themselves. The magnetic mounts were placed in such a way that it was difficult to remove. And their under clothings were similarly unique. A mess of layers and straps. Flack vests and belts and clasps that made it difficult to get underneath. It was a protective measure. And a matter of respect. Only a spouse every knew how to really undress another.

"Will you- will you let me, Mesh'la?"

Her hands find their way to his waist again urging him back far enough that she can slip down from the machine. Her hands are practiced in their movements, only a few tugs until the bottom half of her clothing falls slack. The fabric sagging down. Her Beskar stays in place though and it isnt until he slips his hands over her hips that he realises why.

She's using a magnetic mounting system reinforced by harnesses. The straps of the harness wrap around her waist, resting the weight of the armor against her hips. He runs his thumbs along the straps. Taking a shuddering breath as he wedges a finger beneath, feeling the weight of it.

"Do I need to remove my armor for you, vod?" she teases.

Din shakes his head. "No. don't." He swiped his thumbs along her hip bones again before his hands become suddenly firm. Her boots scuff the floor as he turns her around, facing her towards the machine now.

She may have been about to say something. Or maybe just make another one of those commenting humming noises she keeps using on him. But she's silenced by the thwack of a glove plopping down on the machine beside her. His warm hand finding her hip before it traces its way down to cup her sex.

He takes a minute to press against her. To feel the flesh and learn it. The course hair, the plush give of tender flesh. The silky texture of her innermost fold as his index nudges against it.

He doesn't move. Just feels. Lets his hand warm her. Waits for the heat between their bodies to build up until she feels hot against his palm.

"You just gonna hold it?" Her voice isn't as unaffected as she tries to make it.

DIn lets his helmet rest on her shoulder. "Yes." His hand presses firmer, but not by much. His fingers shifting just enough to feel a hint of moisture cooling in the space between them.

She shifts at the heels. Her hips tilting back at him. "Din." she says firmly.

And he can feel the way her lips slide over his palm, damp but not wet yet. He grunts in frustration but spreads his fingers out on either side of her lips, dragging them gently up and pressing against the junction at the top.

It's a gentle pressure and a subtle gyrating motion. Less focused on the nerves and more on moving all the flesh with it.

"Well you're close. I'll give you than. Why don't I just-"

Din presses his body closer to her hooking his helmet over her shoulder. "Will you just be patient?" He growls. He has her more bent over now, his chest against her back, her body resting on her elbows.

He slides his fingers down again feeling for the spreading wetness that clings to the hair. Dragging is back up with a gentle pressure over and over until he can get her slick all the way up to her clit.

The flesh swole hot and slick under his. Softer than anything against his fingertips. He presses down in a gentle stroke, again and again until her nerves swell to and stand stiff under his attention. Then he circles and slides his fingers down again to keep them slick while he plays with her.

There's a tension in her shoulders as she lets her neck hang. The weight of the helmet a strain from this position.

The wetness is spreading all around where his fingers touch and further still, dripping through the cleft of her cheeks. "So impatient." he admonishes. "Can't wait for me to get my feel."

She huffs a breath, hips shifting against his hands. He can feel the wet trail she leaves all the way up to his wrist. Din tenses his hand grasping her firmly by the cunt. He waits for her to still before he slides a finger into her heat.

She makes no sound loud enough to be picked up by the modulator but this close he can feel it vibrating through her.

"Let me show you." he insists, sliding the finger free and sliding two in together. The angle grinds the heel of his hand against her clit as he pumps his fingers.

"Wish you'd show me something- something else." She's baiting him. He can tell by the way her voice wavers. But he doesn't want to resist her. He wants to fuck her with his hand until it's dripping down her thighs. Show her exactly how much better he's gotten at sex since his first time.

But she wants his cock and he isn't strong enough to deny her. He takes a moment to press it against her for a moment. Her thigh hot even through the fabric of his flight suit. The pressure is so good he's worried for a moment that he might blow this all too soon.

Instead his hand retreats from her cunt, traveling up her body to clutch at her breast plate, dragging her to stand close as he frees his cock.

He wants to slide it between her thighs. Rut there until he can paint his load all over those puffy lips. But he will prove himself. Even if the effort makes him bite down on his tongue.

He grasps it instead. Firmly. The pressure grounding him as he slides just the head through her slick once, twice. Just enough to coat it, then he bends at the knees, positioning the head at the entrance, feeling the swollen flesh give as he presses in. Feeling muscle spread. Hot and wet and so soft.

He can't remember what it was like before. The hot clutch of her. His fist has worn against the memory of that sensation until only his hand remained. But this, he wants to remember this for the rest of his life. The way he has to work past the clench of muscle as she lets him in.

Another noise passes under the lip of her helmet. High and wanting. "You're certainly bigger now."

He wants to laugh. Wants to come up with something sly to say. But Din isn't a man of words. He lets his body respond for him. His hand pressing flat against her stomach while he pulls her back by the breast plate. Making her body arch against him. Their bodies pressed together from top to bottom. Perfectly aligned as he pressed his hips harder into hers.

She's taken most of him. Her legs spread wide enough to make space for him even as he pulls her body to the edge of her balance. Letting him twist her body into position for him. Letting him spread her open on his cock like this. Her helmet leant back against him.

"Better?"

The sounds she makes is half choked off as he pulls her down on him harder. Shoving fully into her for just a moment. Still too much resistance in her muscles to make him believe that's very pleasant.

"hmm?"

"Am I better than last time?"

It takes her a moment to put her words back together. DIn doesn't Stop the subtle thrusts that bully her muscles open for him as he waits for her response.

"Make me cum, then I'll tell you."

He likes the challenge, more than he thought he would. He releases her from the angle, slow enough that she regains her balance on her own. He lets her sag for a moment before repositioning her. Pulling her hips back against him and pressing her down against the machine.

It's much easier to swing his hips into her now. The angle letting her loosen up enough to take him easily. The slick glide too easy, too perfect.

She groans, pressing back into his thrusts. The rhythm messy and desperate as they both work off each other. Meeting in uneven places. Gasps shuddering through her every time he's buried it deep.

"Touch-me."

He has to shift forward. spread his feet and lay across her back. Brace himself with one hand as he fumbles for her clit again. His fingers sliding too smooth through the slick that's gathered there. Just above where his cock is plunging in and out, her clit stands tall. The movement of their bodies alone rubbing her against his hand.

She's dripped down her thighs now. His thighs too. The slick gathering between his fingers and dripping down his knuckle.

That spot behind her helmet where her neck is long and almost exposed without the beskar. The place where she's vulnerable is stretched just ahead of his visor. Her braid snaking out from the fabric.

He wishes he wasn't wearing his now. Wishes he could burry his face into that space and smell her. He settles for nuzzling his helmet there instead. Hoping the hard press of his armor to her vulnerable neck will mean to her what it means to him.

She cries out. sudden and loud and her body shakes as she clenches hard around him. He nearly bites his tongue off trying not to blow his load. Waiting through several more thrusts as her body clutches at him. Sucking him deeper.

It's too much. Too good. Din is only a man.

He pulls out gripping his hot cock in his bare hand as he tugs it. His fist familiar. He cums hard, covered in her slick. Covered in her. Drippin with her as he shoots into the fabric gathered between her thighs.

Every hot twitch of his cock makes white spread behind his eyes but he pulls back anyways, watching as his cum soaks into the dark fabric. Marks up her clothes.

He's unsteady on his feet now. Nearly swaying back as he runs his thumb over the harness on her hips again. Watching the dark fabric drink up the fluid from his hand. The curve of her ass cheeks glistening with their fluids.

"Mesh'la." he murmurs deliriously as the endorphins cloud his brain.

She stretches. No doubt stiff in her lower back from the position, but the stretch just spreads her out in front of him. Her cunt fucked out and still open from his cock. White cum clinging to the hair around the hole.

Her joints pop as she straightens up. Her hands going to pull her clothes back into order. His cum now pressed up against her as she redresses.

His brain is still thick. And his cock is still out. He should do something about that. He winces against the sensitivity but stuffs it back into his pants.

She turns around, Still more disheveled than she should be. Something off about the way her clothes sit now.

She looks him over before shaking her head. "We better hope we don't run into anyone on the way out. We won't fool them."

Din glances down at himself noticing the dark spots where she dripped all over his thighs, something even shining over his beskar. His cock gives a weak twitch that makes him wince.

Her hand is on his shoulder and he looks back up at her, trying to think of anything but her pussy weeping all over him.

"We'll have to pick one room to keep the kids in, if we're going to do that again. can't always meet in the laundry room."

"If?" he says pathetically.

She laughs. "Come on, Beroya."

[yes-im-gushing]

Competance

Din Djarin x reader

Rated: T for dirty talk

Din gets turned on when you help cover him in a shoot out.

No smut

----

There was still smoke in the air. Carbon stinging your nose. The skirmish had been fast and explosive. Narrowing down the enemies location and practically pounding down the front door.

The mandalorians had been marginally more stealthy than that but not by much. Something about having so many of them in the same place made them bolder. Din's usually careful demeanor thrown aside for the gunslinger you knew was hidden under his skin far sooner than expected.

They brought something out in each other. A kind of energy that reverberated across this isolated little battlefield. The ghost of what the mandalorians used to be.

Even between just Boba, Din and the Night owls. A group that held little kinship with each other, it was still magnetic.

You were lost in it. The movement of their bodies.

The enemies fell from windows and rooftops and from their feet to puddles of their own blood. Fell under fist and boot.

You couldn't help being pulled into it. Sitting back with your bow, pulling it back until your hand brushed your cheek, catching sight of an enemy raising a blaster towards Din and Boba and loosing an arrow between the two men. The spark of the plasma bolt shining purple as it streaked over Din's armor, throwing your target to the dirt beside another Din had dispatched only a minute before.

His arm raised again to point his blaster up to the ledge above and your eye followed as your arm pulled back in rhythm with his sighting the man kneeled there, ducking to avoid Din's aim. But from your position you had a clear sight and you released another bolt not bothering to wait and watch the body fall.

Eyes back on Din. You Watched the angle of his shoulders, trying to guess which way he'd swing his aim next. Watching the space over his head, the path in front of him. Another enemy appeared, they could have been anyone, they were tucked behind a pillar, unseen. Din was still dealing with the enemy in front of him and you didn't have the time to wait for the enemy to pop their head out. You aimed for the light glinting off their blaster and blew their hand right off.

Din's sight flew to the explosion moving to get the wounded enemy in his sights and blasting a hole through them, a spray or blue blood from the other side the only confirmation you'd needed.

It was over before you knew it, climbing down from your perch to join the others as they cleared the structure. The Nightowls crawling over the brick like sand beetles.

You hold your bow low but don't holster it. Not until the rest of the mandalorians are regrouping and discussing the next move. Din appears at your side a hand unexpectedly firm around your wrist.

There are still bodies and blood on the ground as he leads you away, the whole place reeking of a fight. You struggle not to pinch your nose closed against the smell, unsure why he's even acting like this.

"Din?" you question as you turn down an empty alley between the building and the garage.

You catch sight of his shoulders again, tense even under the armor. His stride faster than it was before.

"Where are we-?" You're cut off as he turns on you so suddenly, gripping your bow where it's strung over your shoulder and using it to drag you to him.

"You told me you could shoot a bow." his voice is accusatory, dark and heavy. "You didn't tell me you could shoot a man's hand off at thirty yards."

You try to laugh it off, the sound of it uncomfortable even to your own ears. "I don't make it a habit of bragging about my marksman skills to Mandalorians, Din be serious."

He is serious, you know it. The line of his shoulders, the ones you'd been observing so carefully before is curved into you now. All of his attention focused only on you.

"What will it take to make you brag?" he demands.

"I don't- understand the question." Where exactly is he going with this?"

"What will it take to make you brag? Taking my kill? Covering my ass? Disarming a man from a sniper's perch?" He shudders, a full bodied thing that runs from his body into yours.

Is this some kind of post battle killing fetish? Would you be a bad person if you decided you could be into that? Would you be a bad partner if you decided you weren't?

"Din, what are you trying to say?"

His hand gripped your bow harder worrying it as he kept you close. "You have skill you used to kill my enemies and avenge my people. If I had armed you sooner-"

Your brows furrow. "Hey, it's ok, plasma bows aren't easy to find. There's only like three systems in the galaxy that even make them, and on of them is Dathomiir. It took some time to find one."

He shakes his head, a breath crackling from the modulator in what sounds like a annoyed grunt. "If I had armed you sooner, I would have known, when we were alone, that you were so competent."

The way he says compentant sounds like an insult. He said it the way you'd heard men say slut. You have to not grimace. He sounds so serious, really digging for his words here. "I'm sorry? did you think I wasn't- uh- competent?"

Done with struggling for his words Din uses his grip on your bow to turn you around, suddenly your back was pressed to his chest, his armor and your bow between in you in a way that wasn't at all comfortable.

Still he crowds around you until your leaning against the wall. "If I had known, I could have fucked you somewhere that wasn't full of bodies and nosey mandalrians with heat vision."

His hands are on your hips now pulling you in until your ass was pressed to one of the few parts of his body that wasn't covered in armor, but it was hard all the same.

"I could pull your fucking pants down and fuck you right here. Make you cum on my cock. Reward you for every clean shot." There's another shudder that goes through both of your bodies.

"Want to smack my cock against that spot on your cheek where you pull your bow back."

It's filthy. Insidious in a way that you know is going to invade your thoughts every time you feel your hand brush against your cheek.

His hands tighten once more around your hips, not grinding you back against him, just holding you there. The pressure no doubt crushing his cock.

"Damn it." He hisses, fingers manually loosening one at a time. He pulls back from your body like your covered in a thick layer of glue, like its a physical struggle.

You could cry. "I- don't. Aren't we-?"

Din's breath crackles hard. "I'm not going to fuck you in a puddle of a strange blood." He hisses. More pissed with himself but it doesn't change the way it makes you shrink.

"But-"

"Come on. I want to finish this."

He won't walk away from you. Won't take more than three steps in any direction your not heading in. He'd glued to your side. Hard in every line of his body. Like he's turned to metal all over.

It's the gunslinger, you realize, watching the line of his arm stay pointed at your hip, always poised to grab, to drag you into him. A permanent target for him to orbit.

[yes-im-gushing]

Hello to the Two followers of this blog, I am going to be pivoting the content of this mostly abandoned blog to be my own personal smut Blog. I am making an announcement so you are aware of the change and you may opt out of following at any time.

[yes-im-gushing]

Ambrosial

summary: he knows your scent— he knows your heart and now he knows your people.

pairing: din djarin x fem!black!reader

contents: longing, pining, fluff, cultural differences

wc: 2.5k

an: this has been a longggggg time coming but this one's for you @cptn-nash and for all of the black women who feel left out of fandom. there’s always space for you.

pedro characters masterlist

The crest always smells like citrus with a hint of cinnamon these days. If Din closes his eyes he can imagine himself standing in an orchard with you by his side.

The warm, fresh smell is all thanks to you— to your hair, your people, and your culture. All things that you hold close to your heart and in turn, Din tries to respect. But, it is not lost on you that he cannot understand the importance of hair to you and your culture completely, not when his is hidden inside of a helmet day in and day out.

What he does know is how much he enjoys yours— watching the way your curls move when you walk, how they pile into the crown when you tie them up, how a bit of them spill out of the silk scarf you wear at night when Grogu refuses to sleep without you and the two of you take over his bed. He has to tear himself away from the sight of you—dark skin lit up in the moonlight and his foundling in his arms— slinking off to your bunk. But there is a reward when he gets there— the sweet, concentrated scent of you rests on the fabric of your pillow.

In the deepest recesses of his mind, there’s a place where there’s just the three of you. Din holds to his creed, unwaveringly so, but here there is no worry of exile. No worry that you or Grogu will be taken away from him on one of your adventures through the galaxy. There is just you, holding his son, curls blowing in some light evening breeze. There is just him, wrapping his arms around the both of you, his nose pressed into the crown of your head as he is able to succumb freely to your scent. He doesn’t let himself go there often, not when he is so unsure that he will ever have it.

The two of you are charted for a bounty when you ask him to make a detour that is quite out of the way— you need something for your hair. And while he’s more than happy to make sure your needs are met, he has to ask.

He glances back at you, his voice soft and not unkind as he asks, “Could you not use my things?”

If you didn’t share the fresher with him you doubt he even had things. He does, though they aren’t as intricate as yours. There are worse things than smelling like the Mandalorian, yes but proper hair care is sacred to you and your people.

You smile at him, shaking your head, “No, it doesn’t work like that. There are specifics, rituals, ingredients.”

“And it is…strict? Necessary?” You can practically hear the confusion in his voice, his lack of understanding.

“As necessary as this,” You murmur, leaning forward and raising a hand to cup the cheek of his helmet.

He blushes within the space of his helmet, unable to bite away the grin that spreads across his face. You and Din teeter on the edge of more— never explicitly naming or acknowledging any of the affection that passes between you, but undoubtedly knowing that the other is devoted. There’s something particularly sweet about his dedication without words. There is no doubt in your mind that he cares for you, but with this lifestyle, with his creed, neither of you make any move to change your relationship.

This is enough. It has to be.

When the silence sits thick between you for a beat too long, you start to ramble, “Like I told you before, hair is integral to our culture, it helps build every facet of relationships in my village. It sounds silly, but it's the basis of community. We would not be nearly as devoted to each other without hair at the center.”

He hums, delicately taking one of your curls in between his fingers. He studies it closely through the dark t of his visor, noticing the intricate way that it spirals. You let out a soft, shaky breath– feeling his eyes on you is something you’ve become used to, but the effect it has on you never dissipates.

“I could show you,” You murmur shyly, feeling the fascination in his gaze.

“Show me?” He repeats cautiously.

“Show you how my momma taught me to take care of it,” You suggest. After a moment of hesitation, you add, “Show you my home as you’ve shown me yours.”

The two of you have gone to Mandalore—just once, to show Grogu what should be his home and collect water from the sacred waters. You’ve always tried not to put too much stock in Din letting you tag along— where else were you meant to go if you’re his travel partner?

His helmet tilts, shock in his sandy voice, “You would take me to your home?”

You gaze with the black void of his visor breaks for a moment before you look up at him through your lashes, “Of course I would, so that you could see where I come from, how I’ve become who I am. You let me see yours. Would you like to see?”

He nods, finally releasing the curl that he was still holding between his fingers.

“Chart the course and then I will show you why I take so long in the fresher,” You say, backing out of the cockpit.

He meets you there just as you finish turning everything the correct way, labels up. You keep it all in a bin that you take to and from the fresher, not wanting to take up too much space.

You can’t see his shock but you can hear it in voice, in the way he tilts his helmet as he says, “This is…a lot.”

You laugh softly, before explaining, pointing at various bottles as you do, “There are different products for different times of year, holidays, special occasions.”

“Special occasions?”

“For one’s birthday or wedding. Even for a funeral. All milestones in life, from beginning to end.”

“And you must have all of it at all times?”

“You are to be prepared for all of the days of your and your neighbor’s life. If we were to meet someone from home during our travel and they were in need of something, then its my duty to help. It is our custom. Our way so to speak.”

Din hums in understanding. He understands living life a certain way more than anyone you’ve ever known. He starts to understand the importance— but this is just the beginning. He wants to know everything about your people, to fuse the two of your cultures into something loving and uniquely your own.

—

It takes the night to make it to your home, allowing you to arrive in the morning. You’d sent a communication to your mother as soon as Din had agreed, and she had excitedly responded, eager to see you after such a long stint away. Eager to meet Din, though you’d given her no indication that things had progressed romantically between the two of you.

When you wake in the morning, you find Din a little nervous to have the conversation that made you toss and turn most of the night. You know that he’s quite fond of Grogu, that he loves him with all his heart. You feel the same way, happy to take care of the little creature in any way that you can. It’s a bit confusing, raising a child with Din despite not knowing explicitly what you are. But, you love Grogu. Though you don’t let yourself think about it much, you love Din. You’d do whatever you could to make things easier for the two of them.

But what would your mother think about such an arrangement?

Din tilts his head at you in concern when you inhale a nervous breath, fingers twisting in your lap. He reaches for your hands, steadying them. “What’s wrong? Have you changed your mind?”

You gaze down at his gloved hand that covers nearly both of yours before you shake your head, assuring him quickly, “No, no, I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Then what is it?” He asks gently.

“I know that Grogu is yours, and I’m not ashamed or embarrassed. But, I think it best he stays on the ship while we visit my mother. I don’t want her to assume anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

He’s quiet for a moment, but you can practically hear the gears turning in his head. “You were nervous to ask me this.”

You snort, “He’s your son, Din, of course I was nervous.”

“I understand,” He says, squeezing your hand in reassurance. “The next visit, we can introduce him to your mother.”

The next visit. He plans to make this habitual?

“You’re sure?”

“It’s your home. I’m sure if you’re sure,” He declares with a shrug. As if the decision is that easy for him.

“Thank you, Din.”

He simply squeezes your hand again before clearing his throat, saying that he needs to make sure Grogu is taken care of before you two land.

—

When the ship door opens, you and Din are met with a plethora of people, headed up by your mother. Din can’t help but notice how much of her is in you— the same rich color of your skin, the curls though they are greying. Some of your beauty comes from her, and some of it is uniquely you.

She gathers you into her arms immediately, hugging you tightly. She guides your curls back so that her lips are at the shell of your ear, “We’ve missed you. I’ve missed you.”

“I know, mama. I’ve missed you too,” You whisper back, pulling back to give you a watery smile.

She turns her curious gaze to Din, looking him up and down. “This is who you’ve been traveling with. A Mandalorian who will keep you safe.”

Din nods his head, and you about melt with embarrassment at the way she’s sizing him up.

“Yes, mama, this is Mando. He is my—“ You start to say but Din cuts you off smoothly, extending his hand to your mother.

“Her partner. Din, Din is my name,” He murmurs, taking her hands into his.

The smile on your mother’s face matches your own— wide, flustered and accompanied by warmth that spreads through your entire body. He may be encased in metal but he can always make a woman swoon.

“Din. Thank you for taking care of my daughter.”

“Mama,” You scold, giving Din a nervous smile.

“It’s a pleasure,” He murmurs to her, his voice just as sandy and nonchalant as ever.

Your mother starts to guide you towards the villages, and Din offers you his arm which you take readily. You’re happy to walk in silence as your mother catches you up on all the happenings— who’s married, given birth, changed professions, or died. All of it goes in one ear and out the other as you try to digest what’s just happened.

He gave her his name. What more is to come?

Eventually, the two of you are sequestered in a corner of your mother’s house as she helps another woman with her hair when Din turns to look at you. You raise a brow at him in question.

He leans closer to you, speaking in a hushed voice, “One day you will teach me to care for my own appropriately.”

“What do you mean?” You whisper back.

You feel his gaze meet yours through his helmet as he says, “When you are truly mine and I am truly yours.”

Your heart skips a beat before pounding rapidly in your chest. You stare into the dark t of his visor, mouth open in shock. He’s full of declarations today, ones that you had hoped would be true but never got your hopes up for. He simply nods his head at you, one of his gloved hands coming to tangle with your own.

Meeting your mother has clearly changed things— all that’s been left unsaid is now cleared up with just a single sentence from him.

His hand doesn’t leave yours as your mother shows him around the village, introducing him as your partner to everyone she can get to speak to her. Din feels a little sheepish, heat creeping into his cheeks by your mothers candidness, by the curious stares of those she speaks to. You keep him close, answering any questions and doing all of the talking if anyone is curious enough to bypass your mother and speak to the two of you.

You don’t even let go to hug those you recognize, holding onto his hand firmly as you wrap an arm around a few of those you encounter. At this, Din’s flush deepens, butterflies in his stomach.

You make him feel like just a man— the most ordinary man in the best way— like he isn’t bound to his creed or this life of hunting. You make him feel like he’s just your Din. A man so desperately in love with a woman that he’d do anything she asked and then some.

Your mother sends you home with droves of oils and butters and soaps. Some of them are for you, but by the labeling and color you can tell that many of them are for Din. There’s a variety, as with the helmet she couldn’t properly see the texture of his hair and gather the corresponding products. It’s your mother’s way of telling you she approves and you hold her tight, murmuring a soft thank you as you bid her goodbye.

The two of you unpack Din’s things, setting the bottles and containers up in a perfect line. You even fetch your own, adding more clutter that both of you are immediately quite fond of. It means more than Din could know, but he’s starting to learn.

He invites you into his bed that night and unlike all of the previous times he stays, gathering you into his arms in the pitch-black space. For the first time, you feel him. He buries his nose into your hair the way he’s always dreamed about.

That night once you’re asleep, Din heads to the fresher, curious about all of the things your mother had sent off with the both of you. You spent a lot of time here earlier— even more than usual. As soon as he’s inside, he sees why. You’ve labeled everything step by step and added his name to the products that are his.

He spends an ungodly amount of time under the water, closing his eyes as he succumbs to the sweet smells. And though they all smell wonderful, he finds himself reaching for your things. He wants to be surrounded by your scent.

When he slides under the covers beside you later, he smells like citrus— that telltale hint of cinnamon. He smells like you. One day, he’ll let you bury your nose in his hair so that you can smell him too. Until then, his helmet is filled with the scent of you and he will have it no other way.

[yes-im-gushing]

The way to communicate

Being a while since I did a Din Djarin x female reader.

It was rare for Din Djarin to get angry.

It's hard to say if it was because of his creed or if it was in his temperament, but he did his best to always keep his cool.

Becoming the father of a little green gremlin who had a hobby of getting into mischief probably forced him to be even more patient than he was before finding the kid, or meeting Y/N.

Even when the little one put himself in danger, Din didn't scream. Maybe he knew it wouldn't have any effect on Grogu, but he gently picked him up, using an equally gentle voice to scold him.

“I already told you not to do that.” he often sighed, patting the child's head. "You know you risk choking if you swallow a whole frog. Especially since you've already had two meals, you're not hungry."

“Gah !”

"No."

Y/N watched the scene with sparkling eyes and trying to hide her smile, because a great Mandalorian warrior, no matter how patient, probably wouldn't like to be thought of as adorable. He was supposed to be scary and awesome.

When he was with Grogu, Din Djarin wasn't scary at all. He didn't scream when the little one drew on the walls, or hid in a corner, or played with the buttons. Never.

Of course, it wasn't the same with enemies or bounties. He didn't like killing, he would avoid it if possible, but he had no problem accomplishing his mission without the slightest remorse. It was the Way.

Honor, strength, and protection of his clan were his priorities. As he was patient, Din was discreet. A man of few words, preferring actions.

Because of this, Y/N wasn’t sure where she stood in relation to his family. After she helped him find a former Empire general, while risking her life to protect his son, they had stayed together.

At first, Din had considered himself indebted to her. Then, he offered her a job, seeing that she took good care of Grogu when he was absent and that she had some knowledge of mechanics, very useful when the ship had some problems.

But could she consider herself a member of the clan ? Y/N wasn’t sure.

It would have been easy to ask the Mandalorian directly. He would then have clearly answered whether he saw her as a member, or as just a flying partner who took care of his child.

Asking the question directly meant taking the risk of having to face reality and accept the possibility that she wasn't as important to Din as he and Grogu were to her.

She therefore preferred to say nothing and take advantage of the time offered to her with them, experiencing many adventures, as well as wonderful moments.

Until the announcement.

"There are no new contracts at the moment and Grogu needs some rest, so we'll head back home to Nevarro."

"Oh. Okay. I'll probably go to Coruscant then. You can contact me if necessary." Y/N said without looking at him, continuing to play with the kid.

"… I'll drop you off."

The silence in the ship grew colder than calm as they headed toward Coruscant.

Rather than wait to get there, Din decreed that it was necessary to make several stops to buy supplies, check that they had enough energy, that the engine had no problems, and lots of small details that wasted their time unnecessarily.

"We could do all of this on Coruscant. It's not that far."

“I don’t want to take a risk.”

"But we checked everything before the last mission and…"

“I said we were stopping for water !” the Mandalorian then repeated with a loud voice and violently placing his hands on the dashboard.

This made Y/N jump, but also Grogu, who stared at his father with wide eyes, full of surprise and fear. Visibly ashamed of his reaction, Din sighed before muttering that he needed to cool off, leaving them alone in the cockpit.

Things didn't get better when they arrived in Mos Eisley. Not really wanting to stay idle, Y/N took advantage of the little one's nap to go for a walk in the market, while Din chatted with Peli.

She didn't want to go to Coruscant at all and all these stops might have been a blessing, but like with a bandage, she knew it would be better to leave right away rather than torture herself like this.

It was normal that the clan wanted to go home to rest. It was normal that she wasn't invited since she wasn't part of the clan.

What was less normal was Din's behavior, who seemed to avoid her as much as possible and be tense whenever they were in the same room. He had no reason to be angry with her, who continued to work normally despite her sadness.

The situation was also complicated for Grogu, who felt that something was wrong between the two adults. The poor kid ate less, sticking to Y/N every chance he got. It was almost impossible to get him off.

So Y/N wanted to take advantage of this little moment alone to get out of the ship and clear her head.

She didn't expect to be caught by bounty hunters who had spotted the Mandalorian's arrival. Despite Moff Gideon's death, there were still some people who wanted Din Djarin's head.

Since he was training Grogu to be a fighter, Din had also shown her some techniques, so she could defend herself if needed. Although he always added that it wouldn't be necessary, since he would be there to protect her.

Fighting a nice Mandalorian who held back his punches was one thing. Trying to do the same thing with three guys who didn't care about hurting her was something else.

Fortunately for Y/N, when she had just taken a blow to the nose which had made her fall to the ground and the leader of the gang approached to pick her up, Din arrived at that moment, quickly shooting the brigands without missing a target.

He then ran to pick Y/N up and take her back to the ship to tend to her injuries. Wanting to help when he saw her bleeding, the kid used his powers before his father had time to grab the first aid kit.

The panic subsided, a long silence returned, only broken by the little noises of Grogu asking to be carried by Y/N. But when she moved to lean towards him, the Mandalorian spoke.

"What possessed you to leave alone ? Without a word, without saying where you were going ? You were lucky that I noticed your absence and went looking for you."

"I didn't think I needed permission. And I didn't ask to be attacked."

"That's not what I said. But you could have gotten kidnapped ! You could have died ! Why didn't you tell me you were leaving ?! I thought… I thought that you left us. That you had gone to find another means of transportation to Coruscant."

“Why would I do that, since you’re taking me there ?”

“Don’t pretend to be stupid !” Din then shouted, pointing at her, almost scaring her.

The gesture probably scared Grogu more than her, who knew he was going to do nothing but scream like an idiot, but something happened that they would have thought impossible.

With his powers, the child pushed his father against the wall of the ship, as far away from Y/N as possible, then he jumped on her knees, clinging to her while moaning in fear.

The two adults remained frozen. Even though she couldn't see his face, Y/N could guess Din's shocked and hurt look, who understood that his son had thought he was capable of hurting the one he seemed to consider his mother. He saw fear in Grogu's eyes.

"No, I… I shouldn't have shouted." he whispered as he sat on the ground, lowering his head in shame. "Sorry."

"It's okay. I know you weren't going to do anything."

“Obviously he doesn’t know.”

“He doesn’t like shouting.” Y/N said, stroking Grogu’s head to comfort him. "He doesn't like arguments. We should go to Coruscant quickly, it would be better for everyone."

“You really want to leave us so quickly ?”

Din's voice almost broke at the end of his sentence. Y/n stared at him, but he didn't raise his head to look back at her, thus not seeing that she didn't understand his question.

"… You're the one who wants me to leave. So you can return to your home to Nevarro."

"… I meant our home. Grogu, you and me. I thought… I thought you understood, Cyare, but you rejected the invitation. I thought I misunderstood and that you didn't want to to be part of our clan."

“You mean… I’m part of the clan ?”

"Of course." the Mandalorian whispered, finally looking at her. "Mesh'la, we have traveled together for so long. We fight together. We raise Grogu together. I know our customs are different, and we haven't taken our vows yet, but…"

"Our vows ?!"

"… Yes. I've been courting you for a while. You accepted the gifts. You train with me. You let me kiss you. I didn't think it wasn't clear. Forgive me, cyare, I shouldn't have had any illusions."

Words were less important than actions to the Mandalorians, even if they had certain songs and rites. Y/N totally didn't understand that receiving a weapon and touching the helmet with your forehead had special meanings, and Din hadn't told her that.

In his corner, Grogu had only understood that his parents loved each other, because that was obvious, and they just needed to be together to be happy. The rest didn't matter.

All it would have taken was for Din to take them back to Nevarro without opening his mouth, and Y/N would have been surprised but delighted to be welcomed into their little home. Instead, he had tried to communicate, and it had been a disaster.

Now the son was afraid, trembling against Y/N who was processing the fact that Din had been thinking about marrying her for some time, until he realized that he had done everything wrong.

He had yelled at his clan, even if it was because he was afraid of losing Y/N. He hadn't known how to protect them properly. He was covered with shame.

"I don't want to go to Coruscant."

Since he didn't move, too busy determining if he had poked his head by being thrown by the Force, Y/N slowly got up, keeping Grogu close to her, to join him on the ground.

"I was disappointed that you didn't ask me to come. It wasn't clear to me that I was part of the clan, but it was my dearest wish. To stay with you and the little one. If you still want of me…"

“Cyare !” Din sighed, taking her hand. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“Bah ga ba !”

Grogu stirred then, patting his father's hand insistently so that he let go of Y/N's, his large eyes piercing the Mandalorian's berskar.

"... I have already apologized."

“Pato !”

"… I'm sorry for scaring you, and for yelling at Y/N. I won't do it again. I will never hurt any of you. And I'll make sure there are no misunderstandings before drawing conclusions."

“Aaaaaaaah.” was Grogu's response, who smiled again, holding out his arms to be picked up by Din, who complied without hesitation.

This made his parents laugh. They hadn't laughed in a long time.

The ship's coordinates were changed to go directly to Nevarro. No need to make any more unnecessary detours, since all the stops they had made so far were useless. Din was only trying to buy time, not knowing how to get Y/N to stay.

“So, you talked about vows ?” she said shyly as they landed, the kid sleeping on top of her.

"Later, Mesh'la. My request wasn't very romantic."

“Mandalorians worry about romance ?”

"No. But I imagine it will please you."

Y/N could have said she didn’t need all this. Knowing that he saw her as a member of his clan, as the mother of his son, was enough. But she didn't want another misunderstanding that might hurt Din, and she would be happy to be his wife, so she just nodded.

There was no more arguing, no more shouting. Not even when Grogu swallowed the ring that Din had the Armorer make. He simply sat down in a corner, grunting while tapping his helmet, while the little one hiccupped, regretting having eaten the little shiny circle.

“We can get it back in a few days.”

"No."

“We’ll clean it up.”

"Cyare, there's no way I'm giving you a gift that was eaten by the kid and which passed… Hmm !"

Luckily, the ring was spat out, but it took a while for Din to agree to take it back, and then officially offer it to Y/N. He insisted on going to Mandalore to purify it in the waters, while announcing to his peers that he would soon have a riduur.

He didn't bring Y/N and Grogu with him on this trip. The little one was too tired, and someone had to watch over him.

“Karga could have kept him.” Y/N remarked when Din had returned.

"He would have ended up losing his mind after Grogu destroyed everything in his office. I don't think the kid would have liked to be left alone either. Besides…"

"What ?"

"You are beautiful, Mesh'la. Some Mandalorians might have wanted to take you. I would have had to fight and kill them to prove that you are mine. I preferred to avoid that."

It sounded ridiculous, but he said it very seriously, his tone quickly becoming dry and somber.

Din Djarin did not often get angry, except when it concerned the protection of his clan, when someone tried to hurt them or take them from him. He hid his anger and jealousy beneath his armor, but it was there, ready to come out against those who had the audacity to confront him.

But never against Y/N and Grogu. Only for them.