COMPLETED 18+‼️Imagines of Y/n & Pedro Pascal character or Pedro himself.
Do not read unless you are 18+.
Most of them are my favs from Tumblr.
Mature content are in this book.
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Character: Din Djarin (Mando) Show: The Mandolorain
Summary: Mando wanna have some late night fun with reader.
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It was just a trip to the 'fresher. You normally didn't have anything to drink near the sleep cycle. Wanting to give the Mandalorian plenty of space and time to do whatever it was that he did while you were sleeping.
You had spent six months on the Razor Crest with him. And it seemed like you were no closer to knowing anything about him. Beyond what body language and the few words he spoke gave away.
You know that your attire was inappropriate for gallivanting all over the ship, but it is pitch black and you didn't have time to dress. The urgent call of your bladder demands to go NOW.
Scampering across the cold metal floor of the craft, you zip into the cramped 'fresher and give a sigh of relief as you take care of your business, completely in the dark. If you had turned on the blinding light, you might have seen the armor and clothes that signified that Mando was less than decent himself.
You slide the door open, your toes frozen on the steel floors. The thin shirt you are wearing is large on you, skimming the top of your thighs and brushing the bottom curve over your ass. It was one that you had swiped from Mando. Something about the worn soft shirt made you sleep well in the isolation of your small bunk.
Halfway in the hold, you run into a solid warm wall. Stumbling and losing your footing, you bore it/him to the ground with a grunt and a curse.
"Oh! Oh s-shit!" In an effort to get off of him, your hands are sliding all over for purchase.
Until an unfiltered moan stops you. Hands grab your hips, hot palms under the shirt that had ridden up past your belly button, making Mando very aware of the fact that you didn't wear underwear to bed.
"S-stop mo-oving." He grunts beneath you.
Your knee is over his groin, your frantic scramble making you rub him enticingly. You freeze and feel the flesh harden and grow underneath you
Short fingernails scratch at your hips, biting in as he shifts your knee away from him. You are centered on him, your bare core on his equally bare stomach.
Your sharp inhale seems to echo in the quiet ship. "I'm...I'm sorry."
"What are you doing up?" The normally modified voice is smooth, rich as it comes unfiltered from his mouth. You find yourself wanting to hear him talk about anything to enjoy the sound.
"'Fresher." You mumble as you wonder if the heat you are feeling radiating from him is embarrassment or if he naturally runs hot.
"Mmmmhh" He doesn't seem upset. His thumbs rubbing circles on your hipbones. You are scared to breath, unwilling to break whatever spell has fallen over the two of you. He normally would have already created a distance between you. Never allowing himself to get too close.
