#din x reader

You shudder awake with a violent twitch, pressing up on your elbow in a split second, prepared to move. You're stopped from moving further by Din's hand on your shoulder. He's knelt beside your cot, visor fixed on you.

You're on a new planet. The foreign atmosphere gives that away in an instant, the chalky taste in your mouth and the swarming heat on your skin. Your jack-rabbiting heart calms a bit.

"Din?"

You know he's only waking you because he must. The momentary calm banishes again as you push yourself up again. Din lets you this time, his gloved hand retreating to his side.

"It's not an emergency." He says, knowing your train of thought already. He tilts his head slightly, gesturing towards the ramp door. "I need to leave the ship. I didn't want you to wake and..."

Your trailing gaze darts back to his visor quickly, swallowing as you fill in the end of his sentence. Din doesn't finish it, but his shoulders readjust in a minuscule motion.

"I'm getting supplies. Watch the kid. Please."

You're nodding before he's finished his sentence. The sleep in your system is already dissipated and you push up, shifting onto your feet and trapping your pained hiss behind gritted teeth as Din rises to his full height.

There's a beep from his valance as he punches a button then a soft hiss as the pressure changes, the ramp door beginning to lower.

It's habit to watch the sliver of the outside grow, the new terrain stretching out before you as the mouth of the ship opens. As expected, a seemingly endless spread of sand greets you. You wrinkle your nose.

Din hadn't indulged the reason or destination of this particular trip. You hadn't asked. A deep slice in your thigh courtesy of a vibroblade and a mouthy Twi'lek had kept you off your feet and eager to rest.

The slice had been by pure luck—or so you thought.

But Din's silence following the patch up in the ship, his quietness suddenly uncanny, left you beginning to wonder if he was questioning your ability to fight. Weighing up your ability to defend.

And if those things were up for debate, certainly so was your position on his ship.

It had just been passed 3 years, almost six cycles if you counted how time passed on your home planet, since you had joined his crusade. Your job had one very simple, very crucial objective.

An objective that was now babbling at your feet, tiny claws reaching out for you.

"Hey, you," You say, reaching down to scoop Grogu up into your arms. He reaches his arms up as he does, making a happy gurgle as you tuck him against your hip.

His round, dark eyes peer up at you, his big ears twitching mischievously and you couldn't help but smile. You turn so he could see the stretch of desert and are surprised to find Din still in the mouth of the ship. He's turned back, his dark visor giving away nothing of his expression.

It's then you get the feeling once more; you're being evaluated. Your usefulness being weighed up. You shift beneath the weight of his gaze, unmoving but still not speaking.

"Did you forget something?" You ask, just to break the silence.

Din finally shifts, his helmet giving a small shake in answer. He doesn't speak, just stares another moment, before he's turning, his cape catching the wind as he strolls down the ramp.

You watch him go, heart in your throat, pondering with an ache of melancholy if your time on the Crest was coming to a close.

Another burbling noise from the little green monster in your arm tugs your attention away. You look down, smile already pulling at your mouth at his clawed hand reaching for you.

"At least I know you still like me," You murmur, letting his cling to one of your fingers. "You wouldn't fire me, would you?"

Grogu makes a noise of agreement, gripping your finger tight. Then he opens his little mouth and tries to direct your finger into it, the clearest declaration of his hunger he can give.

You huff a quiet laugh, turning back to the ship, mentally tallying up your list of things to do.

—

By the time of Din's return, the sun has dipped low in the sky and the dunes glow a scorching orange in its rays.

You see him coming in the horizon, the only figure out on the desolate landscape. You wonder, for not the first time, if he's burning up beneath all his armour. He never seems to use the fresher to cool off like you do.

It's as he reaches the ship, his footsteps heavier than usual and betraying his tiredness, do you realise he's returned with a bag. Your eyes glue to in instinctively but you bite your tongue and swallow the burning question of what the contents of the bag is.

"Get what you need?" You ask instead, hands laying flat on your knees, avoiding the bandage on your thigh.

You're knelt besides the ship wall, sitting on your feet, one of the panels hanging haphazardly by a single screw and a box of tools beside you.

There's a function for cooler air on the Crest but it's been busted since a gnarly shoot up leaving the atmosphere of Coruscant months ago. You've been trying to fix it for weeks, each time with no avail.

Today is no different.

“You haven’t fixed it.” Din says candidly, instead of answering your question.

That suddenly familiar worry of your usefulness shirks up within you.

“Yet.” you counter, aiming for optimistic. It’s impossible to tell what the immovable expression of Din’s helmet means. “It’s not the same problem as I started with, at least.”

After a moment, he gives a short nod as if he understands — which is mean because there isn’t a single thing you can think of that Din Djarin is bad at. Besides talking to Jawas, of course.

He passes you and you force yourself to keep facing forward, even as you long to trail his broad figure. You squint at the tangle of wires within the panel and sigh. It’s feeling pretty fruitless. You were hardly a mechanic to begin with and—

A loud clatter beside you makes you startle, something heavy dropping into your toolbox.

You jump back and after a quick second, realise that it’s Din who had dropped something purposefully. Trying to calm your racing pulse, you lean forward and peer in.

“This might help.” He says.

You blink down at the new tool he’s given you. It’s the one spanner size that’s missing from your toolbox.

The last one had been lost when you lobbed it at an intruder’s head in a blind panic. Not your proudest moment— even if it did distract the guy enough for Din to put him down.

You swallow your heart in your throat. “Thank you.”

You don’t hear him retreat but the part of you that fizzles like a freshly born star when he’s near dims, a giveaway to his movements. You curl your fingers the new tool and try to tell if this a good sign or not.

Behind you, Din clears his throat.

You peer over your shoulder, your brows knitting together — it’s not often he calls your attention so forwardly, much preferring to stand and wait, staring long enough til you notice and flush.

He’s still standing in the hull, one hand curled around and holding the bag he returned with. You twist fully, letting him know he’s got your attention.

For a long moment, he doesn’t move. You stare, waiting patiently and try not to let your eyes roam—especially after the last comment he made when he absolutely caught you staring at the broadness of his shoulders, eyes drinking in the cut of his figure.

You’d be a terrible criminal, cyra’rika.

What’s that supposed to mean? You had retorted, flustering just a bit.

He had turned and fixed you with a tilt of his helmet that meant he was likely smirking underneath it.

You have shifty eyes.

Your face had glowed fiercely at the reminder that just because you couldn’t see his eyes, that didn’t mean he couldn’t see yours.

Across from you in the Crest now, Din coughs awkwardly.

“I,” He starts. One of his hands clenches, the leather crinkling as he does. “I have something. For you.”

Surprise piques up inside you, fiery and delighted. It warms your stomach and there’s no fighting the smile that pulls at your mouth even if you wanted to.

Gifts from a bounty hunter are few and far between and he’d already replaced the spanner. Your bounty hunter in particular doesn't like to spend his credits unwisely.

Even less commonly does he acknowledge that something is a gift—but you've learned to love the quiet hum he gives you when you thank him for something.

"Oh?"

He shifts his weight ever so slightly, the most obvious indication that he's nervous.

You sit up a little straighter. The anxiety from earlier pools in quickly.

He gives a tiny, almost inaudible huff and then, instead of reaching into the bag, he pushes back his cape and reaches back. His skilled hand unclips something sheathed at his waist. He drops the bag and steps forward, his hand outstretched.

You hold your breath without realising.

It's... a dagger, you realise.

A very beautiful blade by all standards. As you press up to your knees, rising to get a closer look, the details of its intricacy begin to call out to you.

The hilt is twined in a delicate, leathery fabric, not yet moulded to any hand. The pommel holds a promise of a shimmer as though it's embedded with a mineral. And the blade itself... A darker metal curls through the lighter one that encases it, like smoke on a sunlit sky.

It's expert craftsmanship, with a precise balance of two metals — and if you stare a moment too long, you swear the darker one matches the hue of Din's armour. His beskar armour.

"Will you accept it?"

It's with the gravel of Din's voice do you realise you haven't moved. You haven't reached out for it, haven't even blinked since he offered it out to you. You exhale, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded.

It's elegant beyond words. It's too much.

Too much for you, too much as a... a... What was it?

A gift? A reminder of your sole duty on the Crest? Of what you nearly failed at during your last mission together? The wound on your thigh seems to throb painfully as if in response.

He's never got you a gift that's anything less than helpful.

"I," You breath, finally tearing your eyes off the dagger and looking up at the visor fixed on you. "Din, I—"

Your gaze drops back to the blade in his hands. This time, you're certain it's beskar twined within the steel.

"It's very beautiful but..." I'm not worthy of beskar. "I couldn't, it's— it's too much. I can't accept it, Din."

The words come out clumsily and you wonder if in your attempt at being polite, you've gone too far in the other direction and offended him. You wring your hand against your thigh, pressing your knuckles into your wound. The pain dances along your nerves, a welcome distraction as you force yourself to meet his gaze.

The hum of the ship fills the space between you and like almost always, you have no idea how to read his silence.

"I understand."

And then he's stepping back, resheathing the blade into its holster in one fluid motion. He does it so quickly you don't see the tremble in his wrist, his hand just a touch unsteady. Above you both, there's a beep in the cockpit.

This time, you do manage to clock his body language, well aware of the way his guard has suddenly been wrenched up and the anxiety in your veins quickens with a sinister twist. Oh stars. You've definitely made it worse. You should've just accepted the dagger.

He turns and wordlessly heads towards the ladder to the cockpit and you watch him desperately, a dozen words caught in your mouth and none of them the right ones to say aloud.

"I—"

Din pauses, one gloved hand on the rung of the ladder, facing forward. He gives you a moment to speak. Your mouth dries.

When it's clear you aren't going to, you catch the slight sigh he gives, his shoulders dropping an inch.

"Grogu will miss you."

What?

You don't even get a moment to consider what he’s said or to digest the implications before he’s climbing the ladder, deft and quick. By the time you’re on your feet, the swish of his cape is disappearing into the hatch on the ceiling.

You stare at it a moment, all your unsaid words suddenly transforming into confusion. Your mouth opens then closes, your hands held out in front of you in evident bewilderment.

“What—” You begin as you take the rungs twice as fast, following Din’s path up to the cockpit. “—is that supposed to mean?”

You’re halfway up when The Crest suddenly lurches to the side with a rumble, the powering of engines thrumming beneath your feet and you stumble to catch your balance. Below you, you hear the familiar hiss of the ramp closing.

Stars, what is he doing? He hasn’t been this eager to leave a planet since a bounty back on Hoth.

“Where are we going?” You ask, forgoing your unanswered question. You shift forward as the Crest continues to rise with a powerful whirling sound.

Casting an eye at the passenger seat, you’re relieved to find it already occupied by your favourite green friend. Grogu coos in your direction at the sight of you and despite the situation, you can’t help but smile.

“I can take you wherever you wish to go.” Din’s flat response has your smile fading, your head whipping around to face him.

But he doesn’t take his focus off the control in front of him for a moment, stoic and silent as he continues to initiate takeoff. The Crest rises higher, the sandy ground of the planet out the window growing smaller and smaller.

Wherever you wish to go?

Does he— does he think you want to leave?

Your head spins in a tizzy as you try to clue together how the hell he had come to that conclusion. The Crest rocks as it breaks through the atmosphere and you stumble again, struggling to keep your balance.

For whatever reason he’s thinking it, he’s wrong.

Action finally possesses you. You surge forward and slam your hand onto the console, killing the power to the thrusters.

The ship stalls with a loud droning noise, coming to a shuddering stop before it begins to float in the darkness of space. The only light is the glowing orange of the planet and stars beyond the glass.

“Why do you think I want to leave all of a sudden?” You demand hotly.

For a moment, you think Din will continue the silent treatment that he’s all but mastered. His helmet, visor gazing out through the windshield, doesn’t move — until he tilts his head toward you slightly. He sighs quietly.

“I don’t imagine after…” He waves a hand idly and you scan his figure intensely, searching for what he could possibly be referring to.

After…?

It suddenly seems quite obvious.

Even if you had no idea what it had meant to Din, clearly this has to do to you turning down his gift.

“Din,” you say very quietly.

His helmet turns another inch, his chin tilted up to show he’s listening.

You swallow and it feels like your heart in is your throat, burning and bursting all at once. But you have to ask.

“What did the dagger mean?”

Now he averts his gaze, his helmet dipping as he mumbles something, nothing, his voice almost too low for his modulator pick up, a gift, but in the gravel of his murmuring, you hear one unmissable word: courting.

Oh.

Oh.

It was a… courting gift.

A dagger blended with beskar, given as a courting gift from a Mandalorian. It meant you- and him — the hope you had been harvesting, the hope of something more blooming between you two, it had not been unrequited.

Your mind casts back to the exact phrasing as you turned what you believed to simply be a gift too prized for you— it’s too much, I can’t accept.

Maker. No wonder he thought you wanted to leave.

Whatever is crossing your face must be the opposite of subtle because as you grapple to find a response to that, Din’s head tilts back up.

“You didn’t know.”

There's a tiny wobble of relief in his voice.

“No,” You breathe. Blinking hard, suddenly you feel a bit wild because Din all but proposes to you but doesn’t even think to check if you knew the depth of what he was offering? Of the real question behind his gift?

You shake your head. “No, I didn’t know, Din.”

Silence lulls between you, charged and heavy. Even without seeing his face, you know Din must be squirming beneath his helmet — his intentions, his feelings, out in the open and you still staring at him speechless.

You manage to find your voice.

“May I see it once more?”

The request comes out softer than you intend, your courage suddenly quivering in your chest. You will it to rise, to embolden you. Din had been brave — now it's your turn.

Without a word, he shifts and reaches back to release it from its sheathe on his waist. For a split second you see it, the hesitation in his hand.

Then he's holding it out, balancing in his open and trusting palm, held out for you. The thickness in your throat grows.

You swallow tightly and grip your courage, searching within you for that warm, safe feeling that beats like a drum, Din, Din, Din. You seize it tightly.

Eyes fixed on the blade, you ask quietly, "Would you... offer it to me again?"

It's impossible to draw your eyes up, too nervous to see yourself reflected in the darkness of his visor.

"Yes."

Your heart becomes a supernova.

"Will you?" You whisper, finally daring to look up at him.

Your protector, your partner, the man who showed you the softness of his heart and asked for nothing in return. "Will you offer it to me again?"

The subtle motions of Din are something you've come to learn with the years you've spent at his side. Now, staring up at you, the inclination of his armour gives away his surprise.

Then he's rising to his feet only to step before you and sink down, brought to his knees before you. His hand remains steady, the offering held out, and this time the meaning of it cannot be misconstrued in any way.

"Cyare," He murmurs — and it's beloved, it's please, it's don't part from my side for as long as you'll have me.

Something within you trembles and your bottom lip quivers in emotion and then you're moving without thinking, sagging until you're on your knees too.

Equal heights, each of you in a position of devotion, facing toward each other.

Hand reaching out, you clasp your fingers around the hilt of the dagger and say thickly, "I accept."

There's a ragged exhale through the modulator of Din's helmet. He shifts, moving to strip the gloves from his hands and the sight of so much skin from him is enough to make you falter. But there's barely time to recover your stolen breath before his bare hand curls around yours, far larger, the dagger gripped in both of your hands.

His skin pressed against yours burns like starlight. You stutter out a breath, your smile coming so easily at the sight of your joined hands.

Din's other hand raises up and pauses momentarily, halting as if he's unsure if he's allowed before it settles gently on your cheek. You lean into the warmth of his skin and hear another sharp inhale through the modulator.

"I—" He begins, quickly cutting himself off. His thumb on your cheeks begins to wander, soothing over your skin lightly. He urges you forward and you bow your head, forehead pressing to the cool beskar of his armour.

"Thank you."

"You're thanking me?" You chuckle wetly, emotion clinging to your words. His thumb on your face traces another soft circle and you shudder beneath the loving touch, eyes fluttering closed.

“You could have been clearer." You chastise lightly, though your evident joy means your words don't have any real bite.

“I offered you beskar, cyra’ika,” He murmurs, voice warm and full of love. His thumbs draws another delicate circle. “How much clearer could I be?”

His point makes you laugh, eyes opening and seeing your own reflection in his visor. "I don't know," You say, averting your eyes down to your still intertwined hands. You squeeze your hand and feel him echo the motion. Your heart sings.

"Use your words?" You suggest with a cheeky smile, well aware that words were not a strong suit of your Mandalorian.

Din sighs, a faux long suffering one, and the mere familiarity of it makes your heart ache in the best way.

The worries of earlier bubble up within you, the reminder of why you had been so sure the dagger had some other meaning.

“I,” You begin, pulling back lightly and casting your gaze towards Grogu, who had been suspiciously silent as if knowing the significance of the moment before him. “I wasn’t thinking about the beskar, I was being stupid.”

With your free hand, you cover Din’s hand with yours, hiding your face away, which suddenly feels a little warmer. The nudge of your hand against his does nothing to alleviate the glow.

“I thought it was, like,” You mutter quietly, embarrassed. “You were saying I wasn’t doing my job well enough or— or something and I started worrying you were gonna…”

You can’t even finish the sentence with how foolish you feel.

“You thought I wanted you to leave?” Din asks, his voice dubious and warm. Like the mere thought of that is so far from believable that it’s amusing to him.

“Shut up,” you groan, eyes closing as if it can save your from your further flustering.

“Didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to.” You murmur.

His hand in yours tightens, the other on your face coaxing you out of hiding with the gentlest of nudges.

"Never. As long as you want it, I want you with me." He says and in his voice you hear nothing but utter devotion. "Close your eyes."

You follow his command without hesitation, darkness cloaking your vision and you feel his hands retract from yours. The dagger remains in your palm, still cradled in your fingers. Then, there's the tell-tale hiss of his helmet and you inhale sharply.

"Cyare," He says and this time, it's with all the richness and roughness of his natural voice.

The timbre of his voice is like gunpowder sprinkled across your soul and when his hand finds the curve of your cheek once more, it's set alight.

"May I?" He asks. You can feel the soft heat of his breath fan across your lips and feel your heart quiver in response, bursting forward, as if trying to reach him. His thumb soothes across your cheek, full of wanting.

Your nod would be imperceptible if it was anyone other than Din — if his gaze wasn't trained on your face, drinking the details like a starved man, finally with uncloaked eyes.

The hyperspace tunnel finally dissolved into streaks of blue and black, and the old gunship groaned like it, too, was exhausted.

Din Djarin sat heavily in the pilot seat, one gloved hand still on the controls while the other rubbed slowly down the front of his helmet.

Behind him came a tiny, sleepy chirp.

“I know,” Din muttered. “I’m tired too.”

Grogu blinked at him from his seat, ears drooping dramatically in betrayal.

The mission had gone wrong approximately seventeen times.

First, the Hutt they were hired to escort had attempted to betray them. Then pirates got involved. Then the Empire. Then, somehow, an exploding fuel station. Din still wasn’t entirely sure how Grogu had gotten hold of detonators.

The child made an innocent face.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Grogu cooed louder.

Din sighed. “You’re lucky she likes you more than me.”

At that, Grogu perked up immediately, tiny claws tapping excitedly against the seat.

Home.

The ship descended through the atmosphere toward the hidden repair dock tucked deep into the canyon settlement. Warm lights glowed through the dusk, and Din felt that familiar pull in his chest the second he saw the open hangar doors.

Her.

He could already picture her standing there with grease on her hands and that unimpressed expression she always wore when he came back half-dead.

The ship landed rougher than usual.

“Easy,” Din grunted.

Grogu squealed as the ship bounced once.

The ramp lowered with a hiss.

And there she was.

Y/N stood beneath the workshop lights with a hydrospanner hanging from her belt, dark streaks of grease smeared across one cheek. One side of the docked ship behind her was still open from repairs, sparks occasionally flashing inside its exposed paneling.

Din’s heartbeat slowed instantly at the sight of her.

Stars.

Every single time.

She crossed her arms immediately. “You’re late.”

Grogu launched himself down the ramp with a happy shriek.

“Hey, my little green love—”

You barely had time to crouch before Grogu collided with your chest, climbing up you like a tiny monkey. You laughed breathlessly, kissing the top of his head while he made clingy little noises into your neck.

“Oh, I missed you too.”

Din watched silently from the ramp.

He always did that.

Watched the two of you like you were something sacred.

Your eyes finally lifted to him. “What happened this time?”

“Mission complications.”

“That means something exploded.”

“A few things exploded.”

You narrowed your eyes instantly.

Din knew that look.

“I had it under control.”

“You always say that right before you almost die.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

Grogu made a very dramatic sad noise.

You looked down sharply. “What happened?”

The little traitor pointed at Din and babbled furiously.

Din actually stiffened.

“You snitch.”

Grogu barked happily.

Your expression darkened more and more the longer Din explained.

“You WHAT?”

“The Hutt wasn’t the target—”

“You took on three Imperial cruisers for a HUTT?”

“There were not three cruisers.”

“How many?”

Din paused.

“…Two.”

Your jaw dropped.

Grogu slowly hid his face against your shoulder.

“You are unbelievable.”

“It worked.”

“You got shot!”

“It barely hit me.”

“You crashed the ship!”

“We landed.”

“You are impossible to—”

Grogu suddenly grabbed your face with both tiny hands.

You stopped instantly.

The little green child pressed his forehead against yours and gave the saddest little whine imaginable.

Your anger melted so fast Din almost laughed.

“Oh, no,” you whispered, rubbing his ears gently. “You thought I was mad at you?”

Grogu nodded pitifully.

“I could never be mad at you.”

The child chirped triumphantly and immediately cuddled closer.

Din shook his head.

Manipulator.

You pointed at Din over Grogu’s shoulder. “We are continuing this argument later.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t ‘yes ma’am’ me.”

Din almost smiled beneath the helmet.

Home.

This was home.

Later that night, the ship was quiet.

For once.

Grogu had finally fallen asleep in his little bunk after demanding approximately forty-seven minutes of cuddles from both of you.

Din had taken the first real shower he’d had in days, steam still curling through the tiny fresher as he stood shirtless beside the sink.

Water rolled down scarred skin.

Old knife wounds. Burn marks. Bruises spreading dark along his ribs.

New ones.

He stared at them silently in the mirror.

The door slid open behind him.

Din looked up immediately.

You leaned against the doorway, arms folded loosely across your chest.

Your eyes traveled slowly over him.

Not teasing.

Not joking.

Just… looking.

Din suddenly became very aware of every scar on his body.

“You got hurt,” you said quietly.

“I’m fine.”

“You always say that too.”

He watched your reflection approach him.

Closer.

Your fingers brushed carefully over the fresh bruising on his side, and Din inhaled sharply despite himself.

Your gaze lifted instantly to his.

There it was.

That shift.

The air changed all at once.

Din’s hand closed around your wrist before he could stop himself.

You didn’t pull away.

Neither of you spoke.

Then you kissed him.

Hard.

Like you’d been waiting for it.

Din backed you against the wall so fast the metal clanged beneath you both, his hands instantly at your waist while your fingers tangled into his damp curls.

The sound he made against your mouth was low and rough.

Hungry.

Stars, he’d missed you.

The kiss turned messy almost immediately, all breath and restrained frustration and months of near-misses between missions.

“You drive me insane,” you mumbled against his lips.

Din laughed once under his breath before kissing you again, harder this time.

“You like me insane.”

“I like you alive.”

His forehead pressed briefly against yours before his mouth found your jaw, then your neck.

You gasped softly as his hands tightened on your hips.

Without the armor, without the helmet, without all the layers between you, Din always felt overwhelming.

Large hands. Warm skin. Quiet little sounds he only made around you.

“You worried about me?” he murmured against your throat.

“You almost got yourself killed over a Hutt.”

“Mhm.”

“I should hit you.”

“Mhm.. Try me..”

Instead, your hands slid into his hair, tugging gently.

Din groaned softly against your neck, kissing lower, pressing his hips on yours while you laughed breathlessly at the sound.

“Careful,” you whispered.

“You started this.”

“You pinned me to a wall!”

“You kissed me first.”

You opened your mouth to argue—

Tiny footsteps.

Rapid little pitter-patters approaching the fresher.

Both of you froze.

Din lifted his head slowly.

The door slid open.

Grogu stood there holding his blanket.

Silence.

The child looked at Din.

Then at you pinned between him and the wall.

Then at Din’s mouth on your neck.

Grogu’s face scrunched instantly.

A tiny offended growl left him.

Like: yuck.

You burst into laughter immediately, covering your face.

Din closed his eyes in defeat.

“Kid…”

Grogu made another judgmental noise and waddled over, demanding uppies with both hands.

Just like that, the moment shattered.

Din stared down at him for a long second before reluctantly picking him up.

Grogu immediately wedged himself between the two of you possessively.

You laughed harder. “I think he’s jealous.”

“I noticed.”

Grogu glared at Din.

Din stared back.

“…I fought pirates for you.”

Grogu blinked once.

Then deliberately snuggled into your chest instead.

Little traitor.

Guys, would you like some Mando smutt??

Tell me by the comments 🙏

@ababysupernova

@onlydrawnbad

@myswficlist

@accusitorial-fic-enjoyer

@littlemisspascal

@mariwinns16

@coffeebeforewater

@terecord

@leithatnight

@lokiofstoriesalwaysthemselves

@djarins-cyare

@shsoba05

@sjdraws-00

@moondirti

@teehee-47

@jbarness

@reileth

@essence-stealer

@itchyfly

@stagerightlauren

@jackieblogsstuff

@ellenmunn

@xoxo-lyss

@onlydrawnbadreads

@brighterthanlonelywords

@dotyoureyez

@cheekychaos28

@purrpledesblog

@aegocrazy

@dear-ickis

@tobethlehem

@newpathwrites

@cas-reads

@littleredpandanaps

@roughdaysandart

@breniii

@epple-benene

@feral-ferrule

@lindsaychops

@thedoctorknits

@greensabereyesforcevictim

@chickenshitt03

@dinnerisserveddjarin

@dindenimchicken

@everythingiwanttoread

@nightlore106

@xoxo-lyss

@sleepingghoule444

@patatslt

@leeroyjagginz

Guide:

Cyare: Beloved

Cyar'ika: Sweetheart

Burc’ya: Friend

Riduur: Spouse/Partner

Buir: Mother/Father

The steady beat of music tangoed with the delicious smells wafting up from the collection of pans on the stove. Fresh baked bread turned golden brown in the oven, peppers and onions brightly popped and crackled sweetly in the wrought iron skillet beneath the steady push of the wooden spatula in your hand, and a the savory scent of spiced meat cascaded up into the last rays of sunshine that slid through the window into brightly lit kitchen.

You hum under your breath along with the familiar tune, swaying your hips back and forth while you cook, but your mind isn’t here. It's back in bed with Din. The memory of the last few hours with him made your skin feel radioactive, electric, charged with some unstoppable energy that would launch you into space at any moment.

The wave of heat that travels through your body has nothing to do with the warmth from the oven.

Flashes of the hours you'd spent together after you exchanged vows bring a pleasurable shiver down your spine. The heat of his breath against your throat when he moaned your name, the heavy caress of his rough hands against your soft skin finding places no one else ever had, the feeling of his body on top of yours fitting perfectly between the cradle of your thighs as if he was always meant to be there, and the shine of his eyes and wide smile as he made love to you with his dark hair falling through your fingertips.

You’d held on to him so tight, afraid that he would vanish at any moment. Afraid that this was some dream or fantasy that your mind had twisted together and you'd wake up back in your bed in your small apartment alone, but you hadn't.

You'd woken up in Din's arms, his body curved protectively around yours, with the soft sound of his breathing in your ear. It's how you wanted to wake up every single day for the rest of your life.

He's my husband.

The thought makes the warm feeling rekindle, traveling from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, rivaling the stars in the heavens above. You didn't know if you'd ever be able to stop smiling, because it was perfect. Every moment the two of you had spent together over the past few hours was perfect. It's all that you'd wanted for so long and now that you had it, you never wanted to go back to the way things were before.

The difference between your life before and after were as stark different as black and white. You'd never been so happy, never felt so light. You couldn't wait to spend the rest of your life exactly like this, being with Din, going to bed with him and then waking up with him, taking care of him-

You let out a happy sigh and continue to push the spatula around in the pan.

Sometimes you couldn't believe this was how it all turned out, how one impulse decision in the middle of the night when you bought the shop sight unseen could turn into something so beauteous as this.

Everything had fallen into place so seamlessly after that single moment of you scrolling through your holopad blanketing your face with blue light, a beacon of hope in the darkness of your brother's spare room. You'd never expected to fall in love, but yet here you were, living in a world that seemed to be bursting with light and life.

Din and you had fallen asleep somewhere in the afterglow, drunk on one another, sheets tangled over your bodies while you rested your head on his chest and Din's hand dragged lazily over the smooth skin of your back. When you'd woken up beside him you’d taken a few indulgent moments to memorize your husband's face.

It was a little odd to wake up in bed with a strange man, the whisper of sunlight tracing over the unfamiliar strong jaw, the arching brow, thick black lashes, and hook-like nose. Somewhere in your sleep laden mind, you'd fought to rationalize that this was Din. The same Din who you loved with all your heart, and the same Din who you'd exchanged vows with only hours ago to become his riduur.

Mando'a was still strange to you.

The words coming out heavy and chunky against the tip of your tongue whenever you tried to say them, but it was Din's native language and you were happy to learn that piece of him, just as you were happy to learn the parts that Din had tried to hide for so long from you.

The scars that mapped over his body were raised and unfamiliar beneath your fingertips as you dragged them over Din's skin. Each one was a memory, a reminder, another part of him that your heart longed to know.

Din had told you without question.

The soft curve of one over his collarbone, the jagged scar on his lower back, the perfectly round mark on his thigh- each story Din whispered into the warm air of your shared bedroom. But even then you could hear the hesitation in his voice and saw the surprise in his eyes when you kissed each one and told him how much you loved him despite the things he thought you wouldn't be able to stand.

The cold metal hewn armor was only a mask he wore, a shroud of silver that he kept secrets with, a shield to protect but to keep people out. And now that you saw what lay beneath there was nothing to keep you from him ever again.

You would be disappointed. Not in Din of course, but because you didn't understand how you were going to be able to stand not seeing Din now that you had all of him.

Din hiding himself away in his armor was like not being able to look at the beauty of the moon on a cloudless night, when all was still and the rest of the world slowed to bask in the silver light that stretched over the bare plains.

It had been difficult enough to leave the bed. The chill that came when you'd finally inched out of Din's grip was lonely, different than the warmth of his embrace, but you couldn't go back, not now.

Not when you knew he hadn't eaten breakfast and Grogu would be home soon. It was never a bother to take care of either of them and just because you had a new title did not mean that you were any less the woman you were. So you softly tip-toed out to the kitchen, clad in one of Din's shirts that hung much too long that it was anything less than descent, to make dinner.

Din's arm comes around your waist, jarring you from the memories of before and earning a gasp of surprise, as he pulls you back against the warm, bare expanse of his chest. His lips lazily kiss one of the marks he left earlier against your throat, the prickle of his mustache over soft flesh sending a pleasurable reminder down your spine.

"Why aren't you in bed riduur?" He whispers, voice like honey dripping from full lips.

"I wanted to make us dinner." You reply as you release the spatula and lean further back into his embrace, gently finding the arm that he has wrapped around your waist.

It was what you had missed the moment you left your place beside him. The feeling of him so close to you, the tensing of his muscles around your body that brought warmth and love surging upwards into your heart. Your fingertips lightly trail against the warm skin of his arm, rocking back and forth to the song playing on the radio.

"And I wanted to wake up with you in my arms." Din murmurs.

Your breath catches in your throat.

The idea of making dinner felt silly now because you realized what you had deprived Din of. When you'd woken up beside him, it had been one of the best moments of your life. Seeing the way his face lost all the worry lines in sleep and Din looked years younger, how the mahogany colored strands of his hair fell forward across his brow, and memorizing the plains of his face.  It was how you wished to spend each morning the rest of your life.

It now dawns on you that perhaps you should have given Din the same wonderful feeling that you'd had when you woke up beside him. Allowing him to hold you closer to him and whisper in that glorious rumble of his voice that he loved you the second he woke because he didn't need to hold it in anymore.

"I'm sorry." You turn in Din's arms to press a kiss directly over his heart, feeling the stumble of it's beat against the soft cushion of your lips. “I didn’t mean to disappoint you-“

You raise your eyes to Din’s, watching the way they’ve turned golden in the last few glimpses of sunshine. Seeing him like this made your heart flutter and to know that you were one of the only ones who ever would made it all the more special.

He's only wearing a dark pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips, each little definition of the muscles of his chest and arms like the well worn bark of a strong oak. Your fingers itched to trail over the warm ridges, to memorize the criss-cross of scars over the burnished bronze of his skin that made Din all the more real. Thin silvery traces of memories Din shared with you without question as you laid a kiss to each one.

“You could never disappoint me.” Din replies, leaning down to capture your lips in a feverish kiss that makes your legs turn to jelly. If Din hadn’t been holding you up, you were sure you would have melted into a puddle on the kitchen floor.

You moan softly into his mouth, bringing your hands up to lock behind his head while standing on tip toe to reach him. Yet it didn’t seem to be enough. You wanted more.

He backs you up against the counter, taking great care as he lifts you onto the chilled countertop away from the stove, so you won’t have to stretch upwards as far to kiss him. The smile on his face makes your own pull at the end of your mouth, greedy hands tugging him closer because you can’t stand the few centimeters between the two of you.

A voice inside your head whispers that Din is still too far away, that you need to melt into him, to lose the rest of the world and gain all of him. You did not understand how you would ever go back to the way things were before when the two of you were in public, how you would stand to look at your husband in his armor when you knew what laid beneath.

His large hands rest warmly on your waist, eyes tracing over your features.

Din looks happy which only makes you smile wider because it’s all you wanted for him. The first day you met you could sense how alone he was, how the dark shroud that followed behind him seemed melancholic- a part of you thought that it was nice to be lonely together. Yes he did have Grogu, but Din was different. You were happy to be the one who got to make him smile like that each day, happy that whenever he seemed to be with you Din wasn't afraid to show you these little parts of him.

“Are you well?” Din murmurs, softly pushing back a strand of hair that has fallen into your face, hand lingering on your cheek to keep your gaze focused on him. His expression is hesitant, brown eyes filled with concern. It’s odd to see him without the helmet, to know the way he looks at you feels more intimate than anything the two of you had done earlier.

“So formal.” You smile wider, pulling his hand from your cheek so you may kiss the rough palm.

His skin heats, cheeks turning the dusky red you love so much, as a soft sigh breaks free from his parted lips at your gesture. A flicker of something soft flashes through his eyes, body visibly relaxing where it rests between your legs that dangle off the counter.

To see him like this, soft and happy, made you feel as if you were floating miles above the planet. You wonder when the last time Din felt this way was. When he didn't have to carry the weight of his actions, when he didn’t have to fight tooth and nail for survival in a dangerous universe, and when he could take a few moments to exist rather than survive.

It brought you comfort to know that you were the one to do this to him, to give him these precious seconds of reprieve, to be someone who he didn't feel like he had to hide from.

“I was worried that I was too-“ He clears his throat. Din drops his gaze away from your face, something that looks remarkably like shame flickering through his eyes when he . He rephrases. “That I was not as gentle as I should be. That I-”

“I liked it.”

Din's head jerks up, his familiar brown eyes locking with yours, making a heat travel through your body to the apex of your thighs.

Truthfully, there was an pleasant ache between your legs, a reminder of the time that Din and you had spent together, but it's lost in the pleasurable shiver that traces through your body when Din looks at you like that. Despite Din's concern, he had been nothing but gentle with you, placing you above himself in every way, taking great care to make sure that you were comfortable. Each caress of his rough hands against your delicate skin was soft and reverent, each movement of his body above you had only brought an arching build of pleasure, and every hungry kiss only made you beg for more.

He held you as if he was afraid at any moment you would fade away. There was no malice, no greed, and no selfishness in the way that Din had treated you, only the care and love that you had seen since the first day you met him.

The man beneath the armor was every bit the one you had fallen in love with and nothing like the cruel bounty hunter that the other people on Nevarro believed him to be.

"You didn't hurt me Din." You whisper with a comforting smile, tugging him closer to you. “Nor will you ever.”

His forehead drops to yours with a content sigh, hands gently fiddling at the end of your (his) t-shirt where it sits on your thighs. It had been the first thing you grabbed from the floor, soft against your skin and filled with the heady spicy scent of your husband.

 "Then you are happy riduur?" His question is tentative, exhaled on a quiet breath that wafts over your face.

"Always, when I'm with you."

The words are barely out of your mouth before Din is kissing you again. His strong hands on your waist pull you forward to the edge of the counter then up into his arms with such strength and swiftness that you make a startled squeak into his mouth. But Din only swallows it with a moan.

You begin to lose yourself in languid twist of his tongue in your mouth and the tickle of his mustache against your upper lip. He tastes like morning dew that glazes over the world before the rising of the sun. The heady smell of a thunderstorm before it rolls over the plains. The sharp tang of cinnamon against the tip of your nose that you sprinkle onto fresh dough.

Addictive and maddening.

"Where are we going?" You breathe as Din's lips trail to your throat again, the scruff of his cheeks scratching against the delicate skin, your fingers threaded through the soft mahogany strands of your husband's hair.

"To our bedroom riduur." He purrs into your skin sending a pleasurable shiver down the length of your spine.

"But what about dinner?" Your fingers tighten in his hair as Din adjust you in his arms, each soft pad of his feet shaking where he cradles you in his strong arms. "Aren't you hungry?"

Din's eyes glimmer in the last shades of sunlight that seep over the hardwood floors and turn his eyes the color of honey. "I am." His body tightens around yours, a silent answer that brings warmth pooling into the pit of your stomach.

I guess dinner can wait.

The first silver strands of moonlight slip beneath the thick curtains of the bedroom catching on the sharp angles of Din's face. The hooklike curve of his aquiline nose that nudges into your cheek, the supple curve of his bottom lip that occasionally brushes your mouth, the strong jaw that lays beside your own on the soft pillow the two of you share, the dark eyes that gleam with mirth, and the furrow of his brow where his forehead rests against yours.

You're not sure where you end and where Din begins, bodies tangled together under knotted sheets, the spicy scent of him that you'd come to know enveloping you, the last few traces of pleasure bathing the two of you in a warm glow, but you don't care, because it feels like you've waited an eternity for this moment.

Not even the silvery beams from the moon could fit in the space between the two of you.

"Din?" You murmur.

"Hmm?" His eyes blink lazily, a tawny auburn that shines in the darkness of the room.

Your fingertips toy with the hair at the back of his head, earning a low pleasurable rumble that vibrates up from where his chest touches yours.

"Are you happy?"

There hadn't been time to ask him the question he asked you when you stood in the warmth of the kitchen. The kitchen you now knew that Din made for you. Another thoughtful gesture from the man you loved with your whole heart.

Din exhales, the press of his hand against the smooth skin of your back brings your body further into his as if there is still space to do so. Din's lips brush against your mouth, the prickle of his mustache a pleasant reminder.

"Yes."

He was.

Din could not remember a single moment in his life that he had felt this happy. For the first time in forever, Din Djarin felt peaceful, content. He'd spent so many years empty in the still silence of space believing that this could not happen to him, that he was not worthy of the love you showed him. He was still afraid that this would be a dream and he'd wake up in his bunk with the cold silence outside his ship and only the stars to guide him through the celestial sky.

But no.

This was real. The soft supple form of your body nestled into him, fitting perfectly as if you were always meant to. The gentle touch of your hands against him, cradling his face, stroking against skin that had never known so soft a caress. The lush imprint of your kiss over each scar on his body, and the sounds of your voice breathing and moaning his name into the warm air of his (and your) bedroom. Din could still see the happy smile on your face as you'd said the vows to him, could feel the flutter of his heart when you touched his face for the first time.

It was everything that Din thought he'd never have.

You were everything he thought he'd never had.

When he'd woken up without you in bed, there was some self-deprecating part of his mind that said you'd left, that he'd been too rough, that he'd hurt you and that you'd come to your senses and run screaming back to civilization to tell the rest of Nevarro of the terrible monster who lurked on the plains. But then he'd found you in the kitchen, singing, cooking, looking so beautiful in the golden glow of the sun from the window, standing there in his shirt, hair still mused from sleep, smelling more like him than yourself, and so happy it made Din feel like he was going to melt down into the floor.

Today might be the best day of his life and he made a promise to himself that each day would be the best day of yours.

The twinkle in Din's eyes makes you thread your fingers in his hair once more and bring his mouth to yours.

It would have been a perfect moment if not for the loud banging on the front door followed by Max's voice shouting your name.

Din growls and pulls your body into his possessively at the sound of Max's voice, something dark flashing in his eyes. It sends a thrill scuttling through your body, goosebumps prickling on your arms and legs.

Your brother's voice follows also shouting your name as he bangs on the front door of Din's home.

You groan and lean your forehead into Din's shoulder. "I should-"

"No."

"Din-"

"No."

 You sigh, gently taking his cheeks in your hands. "We can't just hide in here."

"Yes we can. I don't want you going out there and talking to him." Din growls out the word 'him' and you know that Din is not talking about your brother.

"Din." You whisper his name, thumbs rubbing softly over his cheeks. "Please don't be jealous of Max."

"I'm not." He huffs, his hand scatting down your side to hook your left leg up over his hip so he can attempt to pull you closer to him.

"Yes, you are. It's cute." You press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. "But I don't want you to be-"

"I am not jealous!"

"Din."

"What?" Din grumbles.

"I love you."

His eyes brighten and the frown on the end of his mouth twitches up into what could be a smile. "I love you too."

You still weren't used to hearing him say it, weren't sure that you would ever be able to, especially in the wonderfully warm rumble of his voice that always made you want to sink into it like the first few sips of a soothing cup of tea before bed.

Your fingertips comb through the thick curled strands that fall forward over his forehead. "I don't want you to be jealous of Max, because I love you, no one else. I wouldn't have married you if I didn't. I want you to trust me-"

"I do trust you." Din presses his forehead against yours. "I don't trust him."

"I'll talk to him."

"No."

The banging on the door intensifies.

"Din."

He frowns at you for another few seconds, and your brother shouts your name at the door again.

"Fine." He finally huffs out.

You press another kiss to the tip of his nose, before pulling yourself reluctantly from his arms, to find your clothes where they were scattered on the floor of Din's bedroom.

Our bedroom

A little voice corrects in your head.

There's mud caked on the knees of your sweatpants, from when you'd fallen on top of Din earlier, but you don't care. You dress as quickly as you can, feeling the warmth of Din's gaze on your body as you do, and cast one more mournful look in his direction as you open the bedroom door.

Blankets are bunched up around his waist where he sits up in bed, watching you with a glint in his eyes that makes you want to tackle him back into the bed. The moonlight is back, finding each dip and curve of taunt muscle of Din's arms and torso.

I've never hated my brother more than I do at this moment for interrupting this.

You stomp down the hallway, whatever soft fluffy feeling you had in the bedroom, lost as the memories of what your brother and Max did to Din earlier this morning wash over you, bringing the same wave of anger that you had. You still didn't understand why they had felt the need to treat Din that way, to mock him with the feelings he had such a hard time expressing.

It was cruel. Especially to bring Max along to act as some sort of catalyst to spur Din to action. Not to mention now it hurt you to see how much it hurt Din that Max had done that, the insecurity it brought within Din to compare himself to someone he thought was better than him.

When you knew in your heart that there was no one better than Din.

And you wanted your brother to get along with Din, especially now that Din was your husband.  You needed them to get along because you loved your brother-

Well, maybe not right now, but…

They were the two most important men in your life, and you wanted them to be some sort of cordial, but like always Ezekiel hadn't taken any of this seriously and you weren't sure if Din would ever want to be around your brother after this.

You open the front door.

Max and Ezekiel are both standing there, helmetless, their brilliant armor shining in the dim light that spills through the doorway, looking sheepishly at where you're standing in the doorway.

"What do you want?" You say, crossing your arms over your chest.

"We-um-" Ezekiel clears his throat. "We made you these."

He's holding out a plate of what appears to be burned cinnamon rolls. Something must have gone wrong with the batter, because each one is the size of a hockey puck and completely flat. Not to mention the icing is an ungodly gray color that looks the consistency of gravy, laying over the top like a sealant.

But it was the thought that counted.

Something inside softens the longer you stare at the almost unidentifiable objects laying on the plate.

It was the first time that your brother had ever tried to cook something for you. In all the years that you’d been taking care of him, you had shooed him away from the kitchen whenever you visited, let him enjoy the perfectly browned rolls, the savory soups, and sweet buns from dough you worked with soft hands.

It was comical to think of these two men, in formidable armor, cooking and screaming at one another in a small heated kitchen while they tried to make cinnamon buns.

Maybe they should have tried to make biscuits, less steps.

You take the plate and place it on the small chest of drawers just inside the front door. It too looked hand carved, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride at knowing how handy your husband was. He'd finally admitted to you that he made the kitchen just for you, that he'd wanted you to have a place that felt like home, leaving you absolutely speechless. You'd coaxed Din back under the covers with greedy fingers, to show him how much you appreciated the gesture.

"And we're sorry!" Max pipes up.

"For?" You raise an eyebrow

"I'm sorry for kissing you." Max offers.

"And?"

"For hurting Din's feelings." Your brother interjects.

"And?"

"For hurting your feelings." They both say together like a well rehearsed band.

"And?"

"What else?"

Your eyes narrow. There was a part of you that wanted Din out here so they could apologize to him too, but you knew it would take him too long to put on his armor, and you also didn't want him to be upset again. Not when you’d spent the past few hours living in the soft glances and smiles, when Din looked at you like you were the sun and he wished to bask in your glow.

"Please," Your brother says your name, eyes pleading "We're both sorry about what happened, but we really were trying to help him."

"Help him what?"

"Find the courage to tell you how he feels." Max says. "You're so amazing, and kind, and a total catch, honestly if he can't see how great your are or if he won't admit how he feels then you should just-"

Din's muscular arm appears around your waist, tugging you back into his armor plated chest. He stares down at your brother and at Max from under his helm.

"She should just what?" His voice comes out through the modulator in a low growl, so different that the way you'd heard him speak to you earlier.

Soft, like budding flowers reaching up to the sun.

Bright, like the first few glimpses of sunshine after a thunderstorm.

But it would be a lie if you said you didn't like the way he was holding on to you like this, a little part of you rejoicing in the fact that Din was a little jealous.

"Um." Max stutters, visibly surprised by Din's appearance.

"Din." You sigh, raising a hand to where his arm wraps around your waist subconsciously, fingers, finding the edge of where his gauntlet ends and his glove begin. You rub soothing circles against the burnished skin of his wrist, feeling the raised edge of a jagged half moon scar that Din told you he got from a bounty that bit him.

His helmet tilts down to look at you. "Yes riduur?"

The heat of your cheeks rivals the molten lava of Mustafar, when he calls you that, a reminder of everything that the two of you had done for a majority of the day, transporting you back to the darkness of the bedroom and the feeling of Din's touch against your sensitive skin finding places that made you gasp his name and hold him all the more closer to you.

"Alright fine, if Max won't say it I will." Ez states, narrowing his eyes. "My sister is wonderful, amazing, and if you keep leading her on and keep treating her like this I'm going to have to kick your ass. She may have accepted your courtship, but that doesn't make her your riduur. You haven’t exchanged vows and you don't get to be so damn possessive of-"

"We have." Din states.

"What?" Ezekiel's mouth drops open.

"We have." Din repeats.

Max's lips pull up into a smirk, his eyes shifting to where Din's arm is around your waist. "Well that explains why you've got that honeymoon glow-"

"Shut up!" You exclaim, cheeks heating all over again.

"And now, if you'll excuse us. I'd like to take my riduur back to our bed unless there's something else you have to say." Din's voice is monotone through the modulator, but a shiver travels down your spine at the insinuation, not opposed to the idea at all.

When Din feels it, his arms tighten around your waist and it makes you long for the feeling of his skin against your and his soft lips finding places on your body that you never knew existed.

All you want is for your brother and his friend to leave so your husband can take off his helmet again.

"B-but-" Your brother looks as if he's trying to pass a kidney stone. His left eye twitches, head jolting back and forth from Din to you, not quite comprehending what Din's saying.

"Hey guys!" Cara's voice cuts through the tension, appearing just behind your brother's left shoulder.

Grogu coos and squirms in her arms, reaching for you, little hands opening and closing happily. You pull him into your arms, gently rubbing his soft ears between your fingertips.

Grogu curls himself under your chin, fingers playing with the hair that falls forward over your shoulders with a happy smile that you mirror.

"Hey buddy." You whisper, holding him close to you.

Cara's gaze shifts down to where Din's arm is around your waist then back up into the helm with a knowing smile. "I guess you guys had a nice talk."

Din nods once.

"Then then got married." Ezekiel grumbles under his breath.

Cara doesn't looks surprised in the least.  "It's about time. Din never stops talking about her, it's annoying. Never heard him talk so much about someone before. Plus when he doesn’t see her, he gets even more moody than usual."

Ez barks out a laugh, turning to look at where she stands beside him. She barely reaches his shoulder, wearing her usual all black outfit, her hair pulled back from her face into a ponytail.

"Can't imagine him more moody." He holds out his hand. "I'm Ezekiel, the brother."

"Cara, the friend." She takes his hand, squeezing it tight, but your brother only smiles.

"And I'm-" Max begins to speak.

"We all know who you are." Din huffs. "Now get out all of you, it's late and my riduur is tired."

He unceremoniously slams the door, shutting the three of you up into the darkness of your home.

We can have them over for dinner tomorrow night, no harm done.

You shake your head, huffing out a laugh at Din's reaction. "Din they were just-"

Din's helmet is gone within an instant, his lips finding yours, backing you up against the door. You make a surprised sound in the back of your throat, before sinking into him. Your free hand moves up the hard ridges of his chest plate, longing to feel the smooth warmth of his skin beneath the palm of your hand.

His forehead leans against yours, eyes dark in the light of the living room. "I'm sorry I-"

Your hand grips the front of his armor and brings him back down to you. Din groans into your mouth, his hand planted firmly beside your head when he deepens the kiss. His nose nudges into your cheek, mustache scratching against your upper lip, tongue tangling with yours, and each moment he stands there with you, all you can think is, it's not enough, you need all of him.

"Don't apologize." You murmur, kissing his chin with a smile. "I missed you too."

It was ridiculous to miss someone that was standing right beside you, but you did. You missed Din, all of him. Every scar, every sigh, every glorious inch of skin that he hid beneath his armor- you didn’t know how you going to survive without seeing his smile, his frown, or his beautiful eyes on you.

Perhaps the solution will be to never leave our home. I think I could like with that.

Grogu makes an excited squeal where he's stuck between the two of you, making Din pull back a millimeter, forehead laying heavily against yours, while staring down at his son.

"Sorry buddy." He mutters, gently stroking one of his ears.

Apparently, you're also not close enough for Din either, because he wraps his free arm around your waist to pull you into his chest. The hard points of his armor, poke into your skin, but you don't care, it’s still not close enough.

Grogu only squeals in response, the light catching in his black eyes.

"Buir" Grogu gurgles touching your cheek with his clawed hand, his dark eyes blinking as they lock on your face.

It was an odd word, even odder sounding coming out of Grogu's mouth. Occasionally you'd hear a gurgled rendition of your name whenever Grogu stayed with you and Din was gone. But this was different, it was clearer, purposeful.

You look up at Din silently asking for a translation.

His brown eyes are crinkled around the edges with his smile, forehead resting against yours. "He called you mom."

You feel your heart tremble in your chest, eyes glazing with tears as you look down at the little creature in your arms still holding on tight to your cheek. His three fingered claws bite into the smooth skin, but you don't mind it at all.

“That’s right sweetie.” You whisper to Grogu pressing a kiss to the top of his head and earning a happy squeal from your son. “I’m your buir.”

And later that night, after the two of you tuck Grogu in, and Din takes you to bed, you realize that this is where you were always meant to be.

In a small house on a starlit plain, on an almost empty planet, on the outskirts of the galaxy, in the embrace of a Mandalorian with the stars shining brightly overhead with a kiss of sugar on the tip of your tongue and a hint of spice as you curl further into Din's arms and fall into the sweet abyss of sleep.

A/N: I just want to say thank you so much to everyone who loved this series as much as I loved writing it 💗 All the wonderful comments and reblogs were appreciated and loved 🥰 This will be the tentative end of this series, but I do have some ideas for fics later in the future! Again, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! The comments really keep me going! If you'd liked to be added to my taglist for fics in this universe in the future please let me know!

Taglist:

@jollyhunter @scoliobean @pressedwater @littlebear423 @bookloverkat

@scorpio-echo @windsweptarmadillo @foxin5billion @silas-aeiou

@mezzprior @st0nedbitch @elita1 @aegoniipascal @tiedyedghoulette

@flowerydindjarin @carolineesnell @cl0udl3ss-sky

@dotyoureyez @sunflowerfive @sonthingwithl @fefa-la-printcessa

@heartfluttered @polaxred @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @anoverwhelmingdin

@escapefromrealitylol @angrydragon90 @kmc1989

@insertclevernamehereplease @swissy23 @hkl0ver @honeycola-umbra

@princess76179 @alastorfang @y14m1n3 @little--spring

@looopylooony @kneelforloki @barrythefab

Din spends nearly an hour asking practical questions- Can you pilot? Can you shoot? Do you know basic first aid? What would you do if pirates boarded the ship?- before Grogu climbs into your lap and beings playing with one of your jacket strings

Din doesn't say anything, but his shoulders loosen almost imperceptibly. That's all the recommendation he needs

You spend considerable effort preparing balanced meals, introducing vegetables, fruits from distant systems, and carefully portioned proteins. Grogu stares at the plate, looks at you with enormous pleading eyes, then immediately points toward a passing frog outside the ship. Din hides his amusement while you explain- for the hundredth time- that live amphibians are not an acceptable food group

The first time Din leaves Grogu in your care for a bounty, he spends nearly twenty minutes preparing despite the mission itself only requiring a few hours. He checks every seal on the Razor Crest twice. He shows you where the emergency medical kit is, then shows you again. He explains Grogu's eating habits, the safest settings for the ship's heating system, which planets have edible frogs, and which ones definitely do not

Yet over time, those precautions begin to disappear. One day he leaves without repeating where the medical supplies are kept. Another time he simply nods toward Grogu before walking down the boarding ramp, offering only a quiet, "I'll be back before nightfall."

You begin inventing little games to keep Grogu occupied

Empty ration tins become towers for him to knock over with the Force. Navigation stars become bedtime stories about ancient explorers. You teach him simple card games he can't quite understand but insists on winning anyway. Every time he succeeds at something- even something as simple as stacking blocks- you cheer like he's conquered the galaxy

You manage to coax a tiny flowering plant into growing beneath one of the cockpit windows using recycled water and stubborn determination, much to Din's quiet disbelief

The ship begins carrying the comforting scent of warm soup, fresh caf, and baked bread instead of fuel and blaster residue. Din never comments on the changes directly, but every time he returns from another exhausting hunt, his shoulders relax just a little as he steps through the boarding ramp

Grogu becomes increasingly convinced the two of you belong together long before either of you realize it yourselves

If Din is working on his armor, Grogu steals your datapad until you're forced to sit nearby while waiting to retrieve it. Whenever you and Din are working on opposite sides of the ship, Grogu somehow manages to wander back and forth until you're standing beside each other again

Grogu even begins refusing to nap unless both of you remain in the room. Whenever Din stands to leave, Grogu reaches out with the Force and tugs gently on his cape until he sits back down beside you again. Din mutters, "He's doing that on purpose." You smile, and Grogu looks far too pleased with himself

Then, one evening after an especially brutal series of missions, you find him asleep in the cockpit. Not simply resting with his helmet tilted back as he sometimes does, but genuinely asleep. His breathing is slow and even. His shoulders have finally loosened. Grogu is curled against one side of him beneath a blanket while you quietly occupy the other seat, reading by the dim glow of the control panel

Din is not a man who fills silence with unnecessary conversation. Most days aboard the ship are punctuated only by practical observations, navigation updates, or the occasional dry remark delivered so quietly you're never certain whether he intended it as a joke. Yet somewhere along the journey, you begin finding comfort in those sparse conversations

You learn the subtle changes in his voice that most people would never notice. The way it softens when he speaks to Grogu after the child wakes from a nightmare. The almost imperceptible warmth that slips into his tone whenever he says your name. The low rumble of quiet amusement hidden beneath otherwise serious words whenever you tease him about his inability to admit he enjoys the "little family" you've built together

Sometimes you'll find yourself working alone in the cargo hold while Din repairs equipment in the cockpit, and hearing him call down the corridor to ask a simple question somehow makes the entire ship feel less lonely

You often wonder what mornings would feel like if they always began the way they do now- sharing breakfast around a cramped little table while Grogu steals pieces of food from both of your plates

One morning, you wake to find your favorite blaster missing from the workbench where you'd left it the night before. Panic lasts only until you hear the unmistakable sound of welding tools humming softly from the cargo hold. Following the noise, you discover Din seated at his portable forge, your weapon completely disassembled across the table

Before you can ask what happened, he gestures for you to come closer. "The trigger pull was uneven," he says matter-of-factly, already focused on tightening a component you hadn't even realized could be improved. "Barrel alignment was off by two millimeters. I fixed it."

You blink, turning the weapon over in your hands after he finishes. The grip fits more comfortably. The sights line up faster. The balance feels lighter without sacrificing stability

Weeks later, he reinforces your holster so it draws more smoothly. Another month passes before he quietly replaces worn wiring in your stun baton with higher-grade components salvaged from an Imperial cache

You mention once, in passing, that your shoulder aches after carrying your pack during long hikes. The next morning, he has redistributed the weight inside it without saying a word, somehow making it noticeably easier to carry. You complain about the cockpit growing cold during hyperspace travel, and two days later he has repaired a heating vent you hadn't even realized was malfunctioning

In the beginning, Din simply brings back interesting objects- pretty stones polished smooth by alien oceans, unusual coins from distant systems, handcrafted trinkets sold by local artisans

But over time, the gifts become increasingly thoughtful. He remembers passing comments you made weeks earlier, details you assumed he'd forgotten. After you mention admiring the constellations visible from a forest moon, he later surprises you with an old star chart preserved inside a weathered durasteel case. When you once confess that you've always wanted to learn more about Mandalorian craftsmanship, he quietly places an old carving knife in your hands one evening, explaining that it had belonged to a craftsman who taught foundlings generations ago. "Needs sharpening," he says, almost dismissively. "Thought you might get some use out of it."

If Din is subtle about his growing feelings, Grogu is anything but. The child seems determined to speed along a romance that neither of you is prepared to acknowledge

Whenever Din returns with another small gift tucked into one of his belt pouches, Grogu immediately begins chirping excitedly and pointing toward you before Din has a chance to present it naturally. If Din hesitates, suddenly embarrassed by the simplicity of whatever he's brought back, Grogu simply reaches into the pouch himself using the Force, levitating the little trinket directly into your waiting hands

“Just need to pick up one more thing and then we can go.” You reassured but still hurried along, struggling to keep up with the taller man. He grunted, sounding annoyed but with a large hand placed on the small of your back, you knew he was just tired.

You took your time sorting through the fabrics on the cart, allowing the baby to feel some of them. You kept the softest fabrics in your hands, intending to make more clothes for him since he had quite the nasty habit of destroying them beyond repair. “What a beautiful family.” The vendor cooed, “I’ll even give you a discount so you can take care of that baby of yours.” You opened your mouth to protest but were quickly stopped by your companion.

“Thank you.” You felt your entire body flush as he stood closer, taking credits from his own store to pay for you. As he led you away, you spoke up. 

“You didn’t have to pay for me, Mando. I do have my own money.” He didn’t respond at first, humming under his helmet. 

“It’s my money cyar'ika, I spend it how I wish.”

Your heart pounded as you looked upon the powerful warrior, strong body towering over you, glowing in the light of the setting sun. 

Silent tears fell as you kept your head down, listening as goodbyes were said. Your heart broke as you heard the Jedi begin to walk away, the boy you had grown to love as your own giving a small cry, calling out for his father. There was a whispered ‘I’m sorry’ from Mando, his voice clear without the modulator in his helmet. 

You didn’t speak as you followed him back to the Crest, your heart broken, your arms empty without the little one in them. Mando climbed into the cockpit, slamming the door behind him. His rage and anguish filled the ship, only compounding your own sadness. You lifted up one of Grogu’s little tunics, the colour meant to emulate his father’s armour, that had been laid out on the table as you did laundry. 

Sobs ripped through your chest as you clung to the small outfit, collapsing onto the metal floor, bending over yourself as if it would sooth the incredible ache settling in your chest.

——————

Mando hadn’t spoken to you in a week, taking all his meals in his bunk or the cockpit, grunting in acknowledgement when you told him of the dwindling supplies in the ship’s store. You were no better. That little boy had become your son over the months he had been in your care but now he was gone and you found yourself struggling with your purpose.

You were hired to take care of him when Mando was on a hunt, nothing more. You were just a live-in nanny for the boy, you knew Mando chose you because you weren’t a threat. You were big, sure, but soft, your hands absent of calluses. You weren’t a danger to him, never posing a threat even in those rare occasions where you became furious, usually when Mando had unnecessarily risked his life.

You mothered both of them, keeping them fed, making sure the ship and themselves were clean. And giving Grogu lessons that Mando would sometimes listen in on if they were traveling between worlds and he had nothing else to do. It was what you loved, caring for others. But now, there was no one to care for.

Mando could handle himself, and now that the child is gone, he could easily get rid of you, not having to worry about another mouth to feed, another person to protect. He could easily leave you on some planet somewhere just like when he found you.

It wasn’t like you had any other use. You weren’t even pretty to look at, let alone fuck, no matter how much you yearned. You had, regretfully, developed an overwhelming, devastating crush on the bounty hunter pretty much as soon as he hired you and that had turned into full blown, heart-stopping love. 

Every moment you spent with him was torture but every moment without him was pure agony. But you knew he would never look at you, not when he had women like Omera. Small women with pleasant faces who could actually keep up with him. Not someone like you with a stomach flap and stretch marks and acne on your breasts. Not someone who could barely run and got winded after multiple trips up the ladder to the cockpit. You didn’t deserve him.

Your bags had been packed, all your things collected and carefully stored, you were just waiting for the day when the Crest would land on some stretch of planet and he would tell you to leave, maybe you would even get a thank you for your job, but you doubted it.

The ship vibrated beneath you as you sat on one of the many crates, a ball of yarn sitting between your folded legs as you used your fingers to crochet a little bantha. Making little toys for Grogu was a habit you still kept even without his presence. You already had a small box full of the little stuffed creatures in some kind of hope that Mando would bring them to him if ever he saw him again. Or maybe, you’d just sell them to get some credits when Mando kicked you out.

You hummed under your breath, being hyper aware of the volume of your own voice, not wanting to annoy the bounty hunter, even if he was locked in the cockpit. The soft yarn tangled around your arm as you put the finishing touches on the animal. Using the small pair of scissors from your sewing kit, you snipped off the extra yarn and winding the ball back up.

With a heavy sigh, you kissed the little head of the bantha before slipping to your bare feet, a shiver rolling up your spine from the cold metal, and wandered over to the small collection of things for Grogu. You carefully pulled the cover off and delicately laid the plushie on the top of the ever-growing pile, quickly shutting the lid before you could cry again.

“We’ll be landing soon.” Mando’s deep voice broke the silence of the hull, pulling you out of your self-deprecating spiral. 

“Yeah, ok.” You muttered, keeping your head down as to not look at your boss, knowing that one glance at his berserker would send your mind reeling, wanting to beg him to let you stay but you just shuffled off to your make-shift room to gather your things.

The cockpit door slammed shut once more and the rumbling beneath your feet increased as the ship entered the atmosphere. You sighed and checked your things one more time, sitting on your cot and pulling on your boots, waiting for the next stage of your journey.

Your breath was caught in your throat but you forced yourself to take a deep inhale, filling your lungs completely as the Crest settled down, jostling you slightly. You steeled yourself for the doors to lower. When they did, a frighteningly cold wind whipped through you, almost knocking you off your feet.

In the distance, you could see the dark outlines of buildings against the horizon. It would be a long walk but perhaps it would give you time to think about what you were supposed to do next. With one last pleading look up to the shut cockpit door, you stepped off the ship and drifted off into the dusty plateau.

“You haven’t asked any questions about the armour.” You looked up from the collection of educational holo programs you had been organising and met the mandalorian’s steel gaze. There were times, you felt, where he could see directly through you, observing your every emotion and thought you tried desperately to keep locked away.

His favourite blaster was half disassembled on the table in front of him, something he only did when the kid was asleep for fear of the little womp-rat stealing pieces for his own amusement. He seemed to fill up the limited space of the ‘kitchen’ with his bulk yet you couldn’t bring yourself to fear his size when he had been so gentle towards you since the moment you were employed.

You cleared your throat and occupied yourself with the various videos before you answered the man. “I don’t think there’s anyone that doesn’t know at least something about a mandalorian’s armour, even if it was just an unfounded rumour they overheard once. Besides, it’s not really my business to ask questions about your wardrobe or lack thereof.” You giggled to yourself, just barely catching the huff of annoyance from him.

“Just because I wear this armour, doesn’t mean I don’t change my clothes beneath it cyar'ika.” You levelled him with a knowing look, one that was far more brave than you felt.

“I think you’re forgetting which one of us does the laundry here.” He grumbled something unintelligible, making you laugh as you turned back to your work, a comfortable silence settling between you. From the corner of your eye, you could see the bounty hunter shift in his seat, said armour glittering beneath the warm light of the Crest. 

He grunted as he finally settled, his back against the wall, his thighs spread. You grinned in his direction, your chest warming with the domesticity of the moment. “You gonna tell me about it then? The creed?”

His head dipped towards you, his fingers still skillfully cleaning the barrel of the blaster. “Mask stays on, I fight, I build something new with a clan of my own.”

“Poetic. Seems like you have it all figured out.” The holopad beeped with an alert, pulling your attention away from him and just barely missing the sigh of disagreement that escaped him.

“Could I get a room for the night?” The inn-keeper gave you a look but complied anyway, snatching the small pile of credits you left on the counter.

“All the way down the hall, last door on the right.” 

The walls of your room were bare save for the cracks in the brick and a singular window that seemed an afterthought to whoever built the inn. You sighed and threw your bag onto the bed, it wasn’t like you would be here for long. Surely there was another ship out there willing to take you on as an extra hand or at least give you a ride to somewhere that would. You’ve made due before, this time wouldn’t be any different.

You chose to ignore the ache in your chest at the thought. 

Noise from the cantina next door drew you from your spiral of self-misery. You knew it was never going to last but for some stupid reason, you had hoped it would. Mando had never hesitated when it came to you, he didn’t underestimate your abilities nor your drive like so many others had done, maybe that was why you had stupidly let yourself believe that he actually liked you.

Maybe a drink would help. Or twelve.

The dense smoke that filled the cantina made your eyes water as soon as you stepped inside, burning your nostrils in a way that pulled your mind from the pit in your stomach for the first time in days. Even on a planet as desolate as this, the bar was crowded, bodies filling every available space as they clambered for drinks. You pressed through the throng, the allure of something that could burn a hole in your throat calling to you. 

You didn’t care that it was probably made out back of the cantina in a distillery that hadn’t ever been cleaned, nor that if the mixture was wrong it could turn you blind. You just wanted to feel something other than the gaping void in your chest that the child and Mando had occupied. 

A credit slammed onto the dusty counter earned you a glass of the fluorescent green liquid that would make you forget, for just a moment at least. The glass was drained in a second and then slammed back onto the bar, another credit joining it. The bartender didn’t even give you a look, all-too-used to the sight. You would think about consequences tomorrow, about how you would have to start over yet again, to be at the mercy of another employer who would most likely berate you, remind you over and over again of your worthlessness. Eventually, you would forget about the Mandalorian, tucking him away into the recesses of your mind for nights when you would succumb to your weakness and fantasise about what could have been.

The blaring music began to fade into the background as you lifted your third shot, intending for it to follow the first two but you suddenly stopped, the rim of the glass resting on the fullness of your bottom lip. The hairs on the back of your neck raised as you felt the crosshairs of a predator’s gaze settle on you. You looked out of the corner of your eye — No one else seemed to notice the target suddenly scrawled on your back.

As nonchalantly as you could, you lowered the glass back down, pushing it to your right, where it was snatched up by the patron next to you. You weren’t in any real danger, somewhere in your hind mind assured, but you had seen what Mando could do when he was pissed and you doubted your hasty departure had made him happy. Though, you were surprised he noticed this quickly, maybe he had wanted something from you before he left the Crest.

People stepped out of his way as the hulking mass of beskar walked towards you, crossing half the length of the room in only a couple steps. “Cyar'ika.” His nickname for you, which he had not uttered in what seemed like forever, almost stopped you, but you couldn’t waver now. A woman close to the door moved closer to her companion, opening up your escape.

You ran.

Dust kicked up under your boots, no doubt leaving a trail for him to follow, but you hoped that he would get the hint. He had to have known that your time aboard the Crest was done, his child was gone, there was no use left for you and you had to leave before he figured it out and kicked you off himself.

You slipped into the now abandoned inn, silent save for the sound of you trying to catch your breath. This is what you wanted.

In your spiral of self-induced misery, you didn’t hear the heavy footfalls of the bounty hunter until it was too late, maybe if you did, you could’ve gotten away before he reached your door. Just as you thrust the ancient key into the lock, a huge hand landed on your shoulder, the strong fingers gripping the bone tightly, almost enough to make you wince.

“Why did you go?” His modulated voice was cold like the armour he wore, unyielding as you blindly tried to reach for the handle.

“It was time for me to leave.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look back. You tried to pull away but he held you tighter. 

“You want to leave me?” If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve swore he sounded sad. Your head tipped up to meet his gaze.

Without the filter of your wholly sober mind, your thoughts spilled from your lips. “We both know I’m just a burden to you. You’d be better off without me.” 

“No.” He sternly replied. 

“No? What do you mean ’no’?” 

“I mean no.” The door opened with a slam that made the thin wall tremble and suddenly, you were shoved into the dusty room, trapped with a man who you gravely misunderstood. Mando appeared as stoic as ever, all while he shut the door behind him, the lock snapping into place once more.

“You won’t leave me too.” He snarled and you gasped but it was quickly cut off as Mando spun you around, pressing your soft body into the hard wall of the inn.

A massive gloved hand clamped down on your hip as the other was planted by your head, caging you in, unable to escape the huge mandalorian. “You’re mine.” 

His chest heaved against your own, keeping you pinned in place as you struggled to breathe around the lump in your throat. He had never gotten this close to you before and it was entirely confusing. The cold metal of his chest plate pushed into your breasts making your nipples harden with the chill. Fear crawled up your spine quickly as his helmet tilted in the way it always did when he was observing a bounty.

“I fucking own you cyar'ika or did you forget about our contract already.” The leather of his gloves creaked as his grip tightened on your hip. You swallowed down a wince, unable to have a single thought other than how large he seemed like this. “You don’t get to leave.”

“Contract?”

Faster than your empty mind could comprehend, your employer’s hand flew to the belt that sat across his slim hips and pulled, drawing your gaze downwards. Though the plates on his thighs and the cup between them remained firmly on, from this close you could see the way his flight suit strained behind it. You forced your eyes back up to the dark line of his visor as he pulled something from one of the pockets on the belt before dropping it carelessly to the floor.

“Arms up.” He barked.

You balked, remaining frozen when you finally saw what was in his hands. A pair of cuffs.

“Up. Now.” Mando grabbed both your wrists in one massive paw and forced them above your head without so much as a peep of resistance from you. The cuffs closed around your wrists with a hiss that made his shoulders ease ever so slightly. His other hand remained on your hip, his thumb pressing into the bone like he was trying to ground himself.

“Mando what-“

“You were gone. I came down and you had taken off. I thought you were hurt or lost, but no, you were running away from me.” His head tipped down, scanning the length of your soft body that wasn’t pressed against him. “And now, you’re saying that I don’t want you, need you.” He kneaded the plush flesh of your hip as he stepped closer, now the whole length of him pushed against you, blocking your view until all you could see was him.

“You were wrong.” You tried to protest but he chose in that moment to press his leg between your own, forcing a whine from your lips before you could even think of smothering it.

“You belong to me.” The world flipped on its axis, knocking the wind from your lungs as the bounty hunter flipped you onto his hard shoulder. You almost expected him to throw open the door and carry you back to the Crest but the Mandalorian tossed you onto the bed in the center of the room, leaving you breathless and very confused.

“I-I can give you back the credits you gave me if that’s what you want.” He yanked at the fasteners on his forearms, letting the armour fall to the ground with a clatter. “Or something…” You trailed off as the beskar on his legs followed, somehow hoping that this was going in the direction you had wished for and it wasn’t some cruel joke he was playing to get back at you.

Mando scoffed beneath his helmet as the chest plate joined the rest of the set, leaving him standing over you in the dark grey flight suit you had seen dozens of times before, but never like this. The front was pulled tight by the heft of his cock pressing against the suit’s seam, a darker patch slowly growing where his bulk ended. 

“You haven’t seen it have you?” With your wrists still bound, you were pliant to his touch. His hands pulled at the shirt you wore, examining it before he suddenly gripped it tight and ripped the fabric apart.

“Hey!” Fear raced through your veins as your body was exposed to the man you had fallen for, you knew he would turn away, find you so wholly disgusting and unattractive that he would leave you on this bed in an inn that could barely be called that on a planet you didn’t know, taking your heart with him when he did. 

“Mesh'la.” His whisper crackled with the modulator in his helmet, but you heard it all the same.

“Please Mando, I’m sorry I left but we both know my usefulness ran out a long time ago. There’s nothing else of me that you want.” You tried to lower your arms over your stomach but he caught your wrists once more and forced them back over your head, keeping you exposed to him.

“I want all of you.” He tugged at the zipper of his suit with his free hand, slowly revealing his own lean body to you. Dark hair speckled his tanned chest, leading down to a soft stomach littered with scars that only added to his beauty. You knew he was strong, immensely so to get his job done, but seeing his strength laid out so plainly to you almost had you drooling. He ripped away the rest of your shirt without much more protest, tearing the fabric apart until all that remained was a thin strip in his hand. “This stays on.”

With more delicacy than you thought him capable of, Mando wrapped the fabric around your eyes, binding it behind your head, blinding you and then removing his touch from you entirely. “Mando, I don’t understand.” Your voice had grown weaker.

“You will.” He assured before another dull thud rang through the room. “I’ll make you understand just how badly I will always need you.” It took you a moment, disoriented from being blindfolded, but you suddenly realised that there was no modulation in his own voice.

“Mando?” 

“Trust me mesh'la.” It was then that his touch returned, burning hot and trembling with desire that you had never felt before. He touched your body with reverence, the tips of his fingers tracing each mark and marr with a soft admiration. “You don’t know what you do to me. So gentle, so soft, so perfect.” Lips followed each careful brush of his fingers.

“I’m not-“ You choked on the protest, tears burned behind your covered eyes.

“I tried to stop myself. I cannot give you the life you deserve but I couldn’t let you go, not after- You are my greatest sin. And my saviour.” Your pants slid down your legs before the weight of the bounty hunter replaced them, your skin flush together, no barriers between you. “And I am never letting you go.”

You tensed in surprise as he pressed his cock against your pussy, letting the heat between you grow unbearable. “I’m not any of those things. I’m not enough.” He froze, though he didn’t pull away.

“You think I’m lying to you.” Anger seeped from his pores. “I don’t lie to you, cyar'ika. Ever. I know you can feel how hard you make me, I’m always like this around you.” His hips pulled back, the tip of his cock falling to notch at your entrance. Even barely pressed into you, you burned with the stretch.

“It’s too much.” 

“You’ll take it.” And with that he blissfully, tortuously, began pushing into you. “You were meant to.” Your back lifted from the thin mattress, arching into him as you took more and more, the length of his cock almost never ending. Your hands curled into fists, your nails biting into the flesh of your palm.

Pain swirled with pleasure, muddying your mind more than any alcohol or spice ever could. Your jaw dropped open as he finally reached the hilt and stopped. “Remember to breathe.”

He drew back and then punched into you, forcing your body further up the bed. You didn’t even get a chance to draw in a breath before he did it again and then again and again until the frame beneath you shook with his power, threatening to collapse if you didn’t move with him.

You yanked your arms down, planting your hands on the solid muscle of his chest like you could steal the air from him in return but Mando grabbed the cuffs and pulled them back up over your head. “Breathe.” You gasped at the reminder, the pain suddenly morphing into blinding ecstasy.

“Please!” You begged, not knowing if you were pleading for mercy or for him to give you more. His lips descended on your neck, coarse hair scratching at the sensitive skin that only fed into the growing feeling in your stomach. His cock hit at something deep inside of you that set your nerves alight.

His body moved against yours perfectly, a dance of pleasure he somehow knew all the steps to already.

“I need you.” You lamented, the words flowing from you like a dam burst inside you. “I was so scared, I needed you and I couldn’t lose you too.” Tears wet the makeshift blindfold, making the fabric darker with each one that fell. 

“I’m sorry, it was all my fault.” He kissed up your jaw with each word. “You were my responsibility and I failed you, both of you.”

“He was mine.” You cried, chasing his lips. You thrust your bound hands into his hair tugging on the thick curls until you could feel the tip of his nose brush yours. “Please, I need-“ He smashed his lips to yours but then quickly pulled away, his voice ringing through your ears once more.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde”

“What’s it mean?” You slurred but instead of an answer, you received a snarl of frustration.

“Repeat it.” His hand pressed down on your stomach like he was trying to feel his cock pounding into you beneath the layer of fat but he only succeeded in adding more pressure to the already building mountain inside of you. You wailed, thrashing beneath him in some vain attempt to escape the pleasure he was inflicting on you but he didn’t relent for a second. He growled and threw one of your legs over his shoulder, forcing himself even deeper inside you.

“Repeat it.” He hit your g-spot with every thrust, brutally pushing you higher and higher. 

“I can’t! I don’t understand!” You sobbed.

He groaned as you tightened around him, your pussy desperately trying to suck him in. “Repeat this; We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors.” 

“We are one when together.” The cuffs unlocked and your fingers tangled together with his. “We are one when parted.” Your legs wrapped around his waist. “We will share all.” One of his hands cupped the back of your head, pulling at the knot on the blindfold.

“We will raise warriors.” He repeated with you before he yanked off the fabric. The light blinded you for a moment before he became clear. A halo of warmth surrounded his head, illuminating the delicate, harsh features of his face, a face that had not been seen since he was a child.

“My riddur, my wife.” He cupped your full cheek, wiping away the tears that had been steadily leaking from your eyes. “Say your husband’s name when you cum. Let me feel it.”

Your hips rolled upwards, matching his gentler thrusts as you squeezed his hand. “My husband.” His smile punched a hole right through you, tying the knot in your stomach even tighter.

“Din.” He supplied with a moan against your lips. Your legs wound tighter around him, pulling him into you.

With one more deep roll of his hips, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock brushing your swollen clit, you fell, succumbing to mind-numbing pleasure as you howled his name over and over again. Din shuttered above you, desperately trying to keep up his pace to ride out your orgasm for all its worth.

“Kriff.” He gritted his teeth, his hips catching as his own end barrelled into him. Your thighs sealed him into you as he let out a growl. “I’ll make sure you remember you’re mine with my child in your belly.” Din pinned you to the bed with his hips as molten heat exploded within you, filling you with everything he had. 

Your breaths mixed as you both finally came down from your highs, leaving you sore but pleased. There was so much left to ask, to say, the air was thick with it, but there was only one assurance you could utter to the man above you, in you.

“We will get him back, I promise.” You pressed your lips to his, the scruff of his facial hair poking your skin yet you reveled in the feeling, you may never feel it again. He sighed into the kiss as he slowly softened inside you.

“Do you remember that day in the market? That was the day I knew you were mine, my aliit, my clan.” 

You smiled at him. “That’s the day I knew too. I never thought you’d feel the same.” He kissed you again, his lips unsure but eager against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping him close for just a few seconds longer.

“It’s time we go, find our son.” He pried himself from you and began to gather the discarded pieces of his armour as you attempted to recover from his attentions. The silence and occasional grunt of exertion as Din forced the cold metal back into place, eased your mind. He was here, he came for you with no hesitation and he proved that you were the one he wished to build something new with.

You threw your legs over the edge of the bed, shakily standing as he donned the last of his beskar. You reached for your pants but instead picked up the final piece of his armour. He swung his head around, far too much like Grogu used to when he had lost something, taking a hesitant step further from you in his search. You cleared your throat, immediately bringing his big brown eyes back to you as you lifted the helmet.

“You ripped my shirt.” You reminded him with a smirk, looking down at your bare chest. 

With a sheepish look on his face, Din yanked off his cape and bundled you up in it, making sure you were completely covered before taking the helmet held lovingly in your hands. His smile was the last thing you saw on his face as he placed the helm back onto his head, once again becoming the Mandalorian. He swept you into his arms, keeping your body tight to his chest as he stepped into the hall.

“We will get him back.” He repeated, holding you closer. 

Star Wars Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3sloth @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @lucypaulette @mooniequeen @slutfor-fictionalmen @km-ffluv @black-rose-29 @Minedofmoria @relatednative @starboygf @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @strawb3rrywh0r3

Star Wars

@certifiedhunter @person-005 @midnight-shadow-cafe

Din Djarin

The dim lights of the Razor Crest’s lower deck hummed softly around them, the ship’s usual mechanical drone a distant backdrop as the only sound was the wet, desperate slide of skin and heavy breathing.

​Din sat on the edge of the narrow berth, his beskar stripped away, leaving just the helmet as a cold, strict barrier between his face and yours. His wrists were locked securely behind his back with reinforced cuffs. The position forced his shoulders back, chest broad and exposed, every muscle in his abdomen taut as a bowstring. A delicate pink satin bow was tied tight around the thick base of his cock, like a ridiculous, mocking contrast to the raw pulsing reality of him. It kept him trapped right at the edge, aching, throbbing, denied.

​

You straddled him slowly, knees planted on either side of his hips, sinking down inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt inside your heat. A low, guttural sound tried to claw its way out of his throat; he swallowed it ruthlessly, jaw clenched beneath the helmet.

​“Easy, Mando,” you murmured, your voice a low, wicked purr, as you rolled your hips in a lazy circle. “Look at you. So disciplined. So calculated.”

​He shuddered, his gloved fingers twitching uselessly against the small of his back. “Cyar’ika,” he rasped, the Mando’a falling from his lips like a prayer and a warning. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

​You laughed softly, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you lifted yourself until only the tip of him remained inside you, then sank back down with deliberate slowness. The wet slide made him twitch hard inside your walls.

​“Am I? Because it feels like I’m winning.” You leaned in, lips brushing the edge of his helmet. “Every time I clench around you… you get so much harder.”

​The friction made him buck, a helpless, involuntary movement.

​“Does it hurt, Din? Being this full and not being allowed to do a thing about it?”

​He tried to thrust into you, chasing a release you refused to grant, only for his hips to be pinned by your weight and the cuffs.

​A sharp exhale escaped him instead of the moan he refused to release. “You think this is breaking me?” His voice was steady, almost smug, even as sweat beaded at the base of his throat. “I’ve survived worse than a pretty little tease riding my cock.”

​The smartass comeback sent heat pooling low in your belly, but you refused to let it show. Instead you tightened around him purposefully, grinding your clit against his pelvis with each downward stroke.

​“Such a mouth on you, yet you’re sensitive tonight,” You dragged your nails lightly down his chest, circling a nipple, and felt his cock jerk violently inside you. “It's almost adorable how you think you’re still in control here.”

Din’s head tipped back slightly, the helmet catching the light. He bit back another sound, turning it into a low growl. “Keep talking, cyar’ika. But I can feel your cunt pulsing around me, getting wetter every time I talk back.”

​You reached down, your fingers ghosting over the satin bow, and with one sharp, deliberate tug, you tightened it. His thighs locked, the muscles corded like durasteel cables under your knees.

​“Mommy’s in charge tonight,” you whispered, the word slipping out like velvet sin. You rolled your hips faster, riding him with shallow, torturous strokes that kept him right on that razor edge.

​The new title hit him like a blaster bolt. His entire body shuddered, a broken, involuntary moan finally escaping before he could lock it down.

​“Kriff… Mommy—” The word came out raw, shocked, and so deliciously submissive that your own control wavered for a heartbeat. You recovered quickly, clenching around him as you set an agonizingly slow rhythm, deliberately withholding the deep thrusts he was begging for.

​“Oh, listen to that,” you cooed, voice dripping with teasing affection. You cupped the side of his helmet, thumb stroking the cool beskar. “My big, scary Mandalorian just called me Mommy. Does that feel good, baby? Letting go like this?”

​Another tug on the bow. Another agonizingly deep grind that made his cock throb helplessly inside you. “You’re doing so well. Taking my pussy so deep, staying so hard for me even though you’re dying to fill me up.”

​He fought it, but his hips betrayed him, bucking up to meet your rhythm in a desperate plea for more. “You’re… evil,” he managed, his voice slurred and wrecked.

​The pink bow gleamed between your bodies, holding him right where you wanted him: desperate, leaking, utterly at your mercy.

​“Cyar’ika—fuck—Mommy, please—” He groaned, long and low, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. The slip made you moan too, but you leaned in and kissed the forehead ridge of his helmet, keeping your pace steady.

“That’s it. Tell Mommy how much you need it. You’re such a good boy, Din.”

​“Kriff… Mommy,” he gasped, the title falling from his lips like a broken prayer this time. His voice was wrecked, the vocoder doing nothing to hide the raw desperation bleeding through.

​You smiled against the cool beskar of his helmet and whispered, “Good boy,” again, letting the praise sink into him like a drug. Din’s whole body trembled beneath you, the iron discipline he clung to finally fracturing under the relentless heat of your body squeezing around him.

​“You feel—fuck—you feel so good inside. So tight. So wet. I can feel every inch of you… milking me. Kriffing perfect.”

​The words hit you like electricity. A full-body shiver raced down your spine, pooling hot and liquid between your thighs. You had to bite your lip hard to keep from moaning too loudly, your rhythm faltering for just a second as you sank down on him again, taking him to the hilt. The knot tightened slightly with the motion, keeping him cruelly denied, his cock throbbing angrily inside your fluttering walls.

​Din’s head dropped forward, helmet pressing against your collarbone as another helpless groan tore from his chest.

The cuffs rattled behind his back as he strained against them, muscles bulging with the effort. “Never felt anything like this,” he rasped, words spilling out faster now that the dam had cracked. “Your slick heat… so warm. So fucking soft and greedy around me. Every time you move—ah—I swear I’m losing my mind. You’re squeezing me so perfectly, Mommy. Like you were made for me. Please…”

​You rolled your hips in a slow, devastating grind, dragging your clit against his pelvis while keeping him buried deep. Another violent shiver rippled through you at his praise, your nipples tightening against his chest. Hearing Din Djarin, the most feared bounty hunter, fall apart like this, babbling about how good your pussy felt, was almost too much. Heat flushed across your skin, but you forced your voice to stay steady, teasing.

​“Look at you,” you cooed, sliding your hands up to firmly grip the sides of his helmet, your thumbs stroking the cool metal jawline to tilt his dark visor up toward you. You tugged him slightly closer, making him hiss. “My big, strong Mandalorian breaking apart. Telling Mommy how good she feels. Are you going to come just from my words, baby?”

​Din let out a wrecked sound, half moan, half growl, that vibrated straight through you. His hips bucked up as much as he could, chasing the tight, slick heat of your body.

​“Yes—fuck, yes. You’re ruining me. So hot… so wet… I can feel you dripping down my cock. Mommy, please let me fill you. I need it. Need to feel you come around me...please. You’re driving me insane.”

​Every filthy, reverent word sent fresh shivers cascading down your spine. Your thighs trembled as you rode him harder, faster, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting growing louder in the small bunk. You could feel your own orgasm building, coiling tight in your belly, but you kept the pace torturous for him, clenching deliberately around his throbbing length with every rise and fall.

​“That’s it,” you praised breathlessly, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of his helmet. “Such a good boy for me. Telling Mommy exactly how much you love her pussy. Keep talking, Din. I want to hear every desperate thought in that pretty head while I use you.”

​He shuddered hard, another broken moan escaping as you swiveled your hips just right. The smooth satin chafed delightfully against your own slick folds with every thrust, a constant reminder of your control. And beneath you, the legendary Mandalorian was unraveling completely, sensitive, vocal, and utterly yours.

​Din’s voice cracked again, raw and desperate beneath the helmet. “Mommy… please. I’m so close. Your pussy feels too good—I can’t—fuck—I need to come inside you.”

​You slowed your movements to a torturously lazy grind, keeping him buried deep while you stroked the side of his helmet with gentle fingers. Your voice stayed perfectly even, sweet and composed, like you were discussing the weather instead of wrecking the galaxy’s most disciplined bounty hunter.

​“Yes, of course Mommy will let you come, baby,” you cooed softly, smiling as another shiver of pleasure ran down your own spine from the way he throbbed inside you. “You’ve been such a good boy for me tonight. So patient. So sensitive. I think you’ve earned it.”

​He let out a relieved groan that bordered on a whimper when you reached between your bodies to untie the pink satin bow. The moment the fabric slipped free, his length twitched hard, flushed darker and leaking steadily. The sudden absence of pressure made him gasp sharply.

​“Thank you—kriff, Mommy, thank you,” he rasped, voice thick with need.

​You gave him one more slow, indulgent roll of your hips, squeezing around him lovingly as you watched his thighs tremble beneath you. His breathing grew ragged, chest heaving, every muscle straining as he raced toward the edge he’d been denied for so long.

​Then, right as his cock started to pulse violently inside you, right as his whole body tensed like a coiled spring, you lifted yourself smoothly off him. The wet sound of him slipping free echoed obscenely in the bunk.

​Din’s hips chased you instinctively, thrusting into empty air with a broken, guttural sound that was half-moan, half-sob. “No—Mommy—wait—”

​You knelt beside him on the cot, watching his cock stand rigid and angry, glistening with your slick. It jerked and throbbed helplessly against his abdomen, the denied orgasm still hovering cruelly just out of reach. A thick bead of precum rolled down the side as he strained against the cuffs, shoulders flexing powerfully.

​“Fuck—please,” he growled, voice wrecked and shaking. The legendary composure was gone; only raw desperation remained. “I was so close… Mommy, I was right there. Put me back inside—please. I need to come. I need your pussy. Don’t do this to me… cyar’ika—Mommy—”

​His helmet tipped toward you, the vocoder catching every fractured breath. The big Mandalorian looked utterly ruined, sweat-slicked skin, chest rising and falling rapidly, cock twitching visibly with every heartbeat, still right on the razor’s edge with nowhere to go. The sudden loss after your sweet promise had him trembling, fighting the overwhelming urge to beg even harder.

​You reached out and traced one teasing fingertip along the underside of his throbbing length, watching it jump at the feather-light touch. Your voice remained calm, almost tender, as you leaned in close to his helmet.