the detour (2) (Din/f!reader)
Rating: E (Explicit)
Summary: Your little backwater home is flyover country for most of the galaxy. Galactic Republic? Empire? New Republic? It’s all the same to you. Strangers fighting over your home. At least, it is until a very familiar ship with a not-so-familiar pilot makes an emergency landing, and needs your help. The mystery man, covered in beskar, so desperate to return to the stars, finds something unexpected on his unscheduled detour.
Warnings: SMUT, PIV sex, oral (m and f receiving), helmetless Din, never-been-kissed Din, things escalate quickly u guys, more body warming, soft!Din, domestic things… let me know if I missed something
A/N: A certain Vanity Fair article had me spiraling back into Din-land once again… My beloved @ezrasbirdie came through with the beta help as always. We’re both In Too Deep with our love of this metal man and we’re happy about it.
Previous || Din Djarin Masterlist
Din takes to farm life with an enthusiasm that leaves you breathless.
It starts the morning after your first night together; you wake, cradled against Din’s warm chest, fingers spread over his stomach. It’s muscular and strong, with a layer of softness that feels good under your palm. Din must like the way you’re absentmindedly stroking the flesh, dusted in dark hair, because he makes a little hum of pleasure and kisses your hairline.
“Good morning, mesh’la,” he murmurs. You nuzzle his shoulder and look up, resting your chin on him.
“Don’t know that word,” you say, gazing up at him sleepily.
“Mesh’la. Beautiful,” he says, sliding his large hand all the way down the curve of your back to cup your bare ass, his dark eyes already molten with need. You lean up to cup Din’s face and kiss him, and he responds with delight, his hands pulling you and wrapping you around him for a steamy, naked morning makeout session.
Despite his obvious arousal, Din seems content to explore you slowly, kissing and touching every part within reach. He grips one cheek of your ass in his strong hand while the other slides up to the center of your back, grounding you in a hot, possessive embrace.
“Someone’s feeling better,” you murmur against his lips, giggling as he responds with a hungry growl and squeezes you harder.
“I don’t want to leave this bed,” he confesses, tilting his head to kiss your neck and making you stretch back in pleasure.
“Mm, tempting,” you reply, breath hitching as he slips his fingers between your naked thighs and gives you a few teasing strokes. “But if you’re feeling that frisky, then you’ll have plenty of energy for farm chores, right?” You give him a half-kiss and pull back, enjoying the squinty pout he gives you in response.
“Right,” Din grunts, tracing a reluctant circle over your back before resting his palm on you for a moment and letting you slip free of his grasp. You pick up your robe from the back of the closet, steadfastly ignoring his longing gaze as you cover your naked body and tie the sash.
“Breakfast first,” you say with a smile. “Then I intend to put you to work.”
Din tucks away a bowl of thick, creamy oatmeal topped with spices and chunks of sugar melon before pulling on one of your brother’s tunics and trousers. You’ve changed into your own work clothes and boots and guide him out back, surveying the field. Foz is already crouched at the edge of the field, using a knife to remove the greens without damaging the root, and you pull your own blade from a pocket, showing Din the technique to preserve the root for next season. Din kneels next to you, watching your hands work and nodding. He’s so big and so quiet; you have to coax responses out of him from time to time. It’s almost as though he forgets to talk.
“You don’t spend much time with other people, do you?” You ask, handing over the blade and pulling out a second one as you both get to work on a row of greens.
Din cringes slightly.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Not a criticism,” you say, a gentle smile on your face. “I know how it is. Being alone so much, you get used to the silence.”
Din purses his lips.
“Yeah, I guess I’ve been alone a lot. For a long time. When I’m not bringing in a bounty, that is. But they rarely make good conversation,” he adds. It takes you a moment to catch the spark of amusement in his eyes.
“A joke!” You say, grinning.
“Not a particularly good one, but yes,” he replies, rubbing the back of his hand over his cheek. A small smudge of dirt gets on his forehead. You reach into your pocket, pulling out a soft handkerchief and dabbing the dirt away.
“Don’t want that running down and getting in your pretty brown eyes,” you say softly, tucking the small cloth back in your pocket.
Foz, who walked up moments earlier, snickers.
“Perks of being a new recruit?” He says. “What about my eyes?”
“You know the ropes around here already, Foz,” you say, slightly exasperated. “We go way back, old man.”
Foz worked for your father, and while he can be prickly - and sometimes drunk - he cares about you. You’re sure he could get more money working on another farm, but loyalty to your father has made him stay, and you’re grateful.
Foz chuckles and extends a hand to Din, who gives him a tight nod, shakes it, and gets back to work on the row of greens.
Once you’ve filled a basket, you show Din where to pile them and move on to the next row. He takes to the work quickly, and soon you’ve cleared a large corner of the field leading up to the crash site, where the N-1 left ruts in the ground.
“We got pretty lucky,” you say, peering more closely under the ship. “The ruts missed most of this row. Won’t lose as many of the greens as I thought,” you add brightly. It means more work, but Din looks relieved.
The suns beat down, high in the sky, and Foz has left for his usual liquid lunch when you slip into the house and back out with a pitcher of fresh juice. It’s bright pink, and when you pour Din a glass, he takes a long gulp, the liquid staining his lips. You can’t stop staring at them.
“What is it?” He asks, wiping the sweat from his forehead with one sleeve.
You shake your head, sipping your own drink.
Din’s eyes drift down to your lips, and then his expression turns playful.
“Think I see now,” he says, grinning. “Are my lips pink too?”
You chuckle, nodding.
“Can’t be as pretty as yours,” he says with a soft, low growl.
You bite your bottom lip and Din sets his glass down on the table outside the barn, taking a bold step toward you.
“Never realized how wonderful lips could be before this,” he breathes, leaning in and crushing his mouth to yours. The pair of you are damp all over, clothes sweaty, and you can feel the heat rolling off Din in waves as he plunges his tongue into your mouth, making you whimper in response.
Reluctantly, you pull back, giving his bottom lip a playful nibble before releasing him.
“Naughty boy,” you whisper, and his eyes darken with delight. “Be good and help me finish up, and you’ll get a special treat tonight.”
There are eight waist-high baskets piled high with the greens, tied off in bunches, by the time the twin suns set. Din’s helped you cut the time for harvest to a fraction of what it would usually take, and your mood is buoyant as you heat a kettle for tea before dinner. You showered after the long day’s work (together, taking longer than strictly necessary), and wrapped up in your robe. You pour Din a steaming mug of tea, which he takes gratefully, easing himself into your father’s old chair and sighing.
“Thank you for today,” you say, setting your mug down on a side table next to him and picking your way over his feet to sit in the other chair. Din reaches a hand out, and you rise from it, allowing yourself to be pulled into his lap.
“Been wanting you all day,” he murmurs, leaning to kiss your neck. You shiver with pleasure, arms wrapping around him.
He’s always so warm.
“You just had me in the shower,” you say, a breathless giggle on your lips as Din grips your earlobe gently between his flat, square teeth and tugs, sending tingles through your body.
“Want more,” he grunts, his hands sinking into the flesh of your waist and lifting to allow you to shift in his lap until you’re straddling him.
“Aren’t you hungry?” You ask, the question followed by a sharp intake of breath as Din’s hand burrows under your robe, cupping you between your legs and rubbing his fingertips over your hot core. You’re still puffy from the heat of the shower and the friction of his thrusts into you against the tile wall. He toys with your folds, grunting in pleasure as wetness coats his fingers.
Pulling them free, he lifts his hand to his mouth and gives his fingers a long, slow suck, making you whimper and drop your forehead to his shoulder.
“Think I earned dessert first?” He asks playfully, dipping his fingers back into the robe and teasing you.
“You had a taste, don’t be greedy,” you reply, nipping at his jaw and then swinging your leg off him to stand up. “Come have some dinner and we’ll see about something sweet after that.”
Din stands, towering over you as he follows you into the kitchen, taking a seat at the small table and folding his hands.
You reach into the pantry, retrieving a small bag of spices. After the tea kettle whistles, you pour it over the tea leaves in two cups, then empty the rest of the boiling water into a large dish, adding two packets of noodles and protein, along with a handful of greens, and a generous shake of the spices. Clicking the flash oven on, you open the door and slide the dish inside to bake.
You sit next to Din, who’s sipping his tea and watching you with a look of warmth on his face.
“What?” You ask, cocking your head slightly to the side.
“Nothing, I just— it’s nice to be taken care of a little. Can’t remember the last time someone made a meal for me, uh, more than once.”
His hand dwarfs yours as he reaches for it.
“I know it hasn’t been very long, but—“
The oven beeps sharply, and you shake your head, rising to lift the dish out with gloves and serving the baked pasta onto plates.
“Sorry the protein isn’t better. It’s usually just me I’m feeding,” you say, heat rising in your cheeks. “Um, what were you saying?”
Din shakes his head.
“Never mind. This smells delicious. Really, thank you.”
“Least I can do when you’re helping me so much,” you reply, grinning. “Dig in,” you say, gesturing to him to eat.
Din takes a forkful of the pasta and hums with delight.
“The spices,” he murmurs, “it’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted.”
You smile triumphantly.
“That’s the same mixture my father used. Works on just about everything,” you reply, winking at him. “Maybe I’ll give you a little bit as a parting gift,” you add, feeling a sudden pang in your chest.
You don’t want him to go.
Din looks at you, and you could swear the smile on his face turns a little sad.
After dinner, you clear away the table and Din insists on helping clean up. It’s no use resisting him, and you find yourself maneuvering around your small kitchen shoulder to shoulder with a very large man. He’s eager to help, drying and putting away dishes, wiping down surfaces, and before you know it, the kitchen is clean and Din is watching you cast about for something to do.
He’s so unflinching when it comes to what he wants; and he’s clearly decided he wants you. He watches you like he plans to chase you through the house and mount you, and the look on his face has you feeling simultaneously nervous and aroused; a prey animal face to face with its greatest threat.
He steps close, arms bracketing you against the counter, as you look up at him, your heart beating a staccato rhythm against your ribcage.
“What if I didn’t have to leave for good?” Din asks, his eyes two pools of midnight as they pin you in place. “What if I got my kid and we- we came back?” A light flush colors the tops of his cheekbones. “He’s a little ball of mischief, but I think you’d like him-”
“Yes,” you reply, without an ounce of hesitation. “I want you to come back. Both of you. Come back to me and stay,” you add, and then he’s kissing you again, gathering your body in those firm, strong arms, and you stop thinking altogether.
Within moments, he’s lifted you into his grip, the movement making you squeak with joy as he carries you to bed, one firm hand gripping your ass as you cross your ankles behind his waist. He’s so big. You feel dwarfed by his sheer size and when he rests you down on the bed, crawling over you, looming over you– you feel delicate in his embrace.
He nuzzles his way to the waistband of the soft sweatpants you’d tugged on before making dinner, lips dancing along your belly as he rucks up your shirt to press tender kisses to silky skin.
“Wonder if you’re still wet,” he whispers, urging your hips up and then easing the pants over the curve of your ass and down your thighs and fuck- you can feel the slick at the tops of your thighs, where you’re soaked for him. You have been all night.
He doesn’t waste a moment, his hungry mouth licking up the shiny juices gathered on your pussy, making you whimper aloud.
“Maker,” he grunts, sinking one finger - then two - into your core. “You’re not just wet, you’re-” he prods gingerly, “-you’re all soft and puffy, just fucked out and perfect.” Din presses his forehead to your hip, eyes full of concern as he gazes up at you.
“Are you too sore, mesh’la?” he whispers, lips brushing over your hip. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”
He’s fucked you more times in the past 24 hours than you’d been fucked in the past five years, and yet – you absolutely do not want him to stop.
“No, you’re just- big. Might take me a bit to adjust,” you whisper, and he shoots you a feral grin, drawing the soft, puffy lips of your pussy into his mouth and licking them generously, like a sweet dessert he wanted to devour.
“I want- I want to taste you, too,” you whisper, and he leans back, grinning.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replies before his lips and tongue resume their work and you’re screaming within minutes, another wild release coursing through your body.
“How badly is your ship damaged?” You ask, leaning against Din on the porch swing. You can see the outline of the N-1 in the field, illuminated by starlight. It’s mostly intact; the passenger compartment blessedly unaffected by the rough landing.
“One of the engines took the brunt of the impact,” Din replies, his fingers stroking the nape of your neck. “Shouldn’t be too hard to fix, once I find the key parts.”
You pause, looking thoughtfully at the ship.
“Can I see inside it?”
You feel rather than see Din’s answering smile, the curve of his lips rising against your temple where he has you cuddled against him.
He’s slow, deliberate as he takes your hand, guiding you out into the field as insects chirp loudly. Your feet stuffed into your boots, you plod along after him, curiosity making your body hum as he lifts the door of the ship, letting you climb inside.
“I’m not sure we’ll both fit,” you say, chuckling.
Din seems to take that as a challenge, hoisting his own body up and into the cockpit. You squirm around, settling in his lap.
It’s a tight squeeze.
“You definitely can’t fly like this,” you say, chuckling. “More room down by your feet, though,” you add, scooting off his lap and gazing into the space there. You kneel between his legs, and feel a shot of tension go through the muscles of his thighs as he shifts to accommodate you. Then you’re looking up at him and oh- oh.
You smile, palms sliding up and over his thighs through the sleep pants.
“What- what are you doing?” He asks breathlessly, licking his lips.
“I’m going to suck you off, right here in your ship,” you reply, voice low, steady and direct. “Do you like the sound of that?”
“Yes, f- fuck,” Din grunts as you press your mouth to him through the pants, lips warm on his length. He shifts eagerly, helping you free his cock from the confines of the pants, undoing a convenient button, and then he’s silky and velvety and hot in your hand. You give him one firm stroke, then two, then your lips part and you take him onto your tongue, the head of his cock glistening under the starry sky with a droplet of wetness. Your thumb brushes over his slit and he jerks, whimpering in pleasure as you tease him, tongue swirling around the head of his cock and then taking him deep, cheeks hollowed to suck on him.
“So- so fucking good,” he grits out, his large palms spreading over your head, fingers gripping you and easing you forward; barely restrained thrusts urging you to let him fuck your mouth, your throat, right there in the crashed ship. You nod, mumbling encouragement and letting him do it, letting him claim you with his cock like he had multiple times in the past day. This man was a stranger not so long ago, and now you wanted nothing more than to keep him forever. Taste him forever. Fuck him, and be fucked by him, until neither of you could move or think or speak.
“Perfect, so perfect,” he whimpers, hips stuttering until his balls tighten and you feel his hands grip tighter and then he fills your mouth without warning, his cum hot as he spills inside your lips. You swallow, drinking from his body as you urge him to keep fucking your mouth, his whimpers and cries fading as he finishes at last.
“Are you all right?” He asks, hands gentle on your face as he looks down at you, crouched between his legs on that ship.
“I’m good,” you reply hoarsely, rubbing your cheek against his knee. “Been dying to try that ever since you crashed here.”
Din grunts, his thumb brushing over your sticky lower lip.
“Filthy girl. Fuck. Now you’re really never getting rid of me,” he adds, smiling down at you.
“Good,” you say, grinning. “That’s good to hear.”
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