#also yes shin would fit in with the mandos

[certifiedskywalker]

Teasing Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) Would Include...

Anonymous said:

Hi😊, just wanted to say I'm hooked on your writing it's so good!! And maybe if you're not to busy with other requests could you possibly write a Mandalorian x reader where the reader puts on dyn's helmet and armor while he's asleep and he wakes up to see the reader playfully pretending to be a him like saying "this is the way"

Anonymous said:

i like to imagine the reader lying in bed post-sex with mando with his full armour on after he put it back on and the reader asks "can i ask you something? is it hard to breathe in there?" and he simply answers "no", i know that doesnt sound like the most romantic scenario but the little things like that and small talks with mando just keeps me going you know?

I hope you both are okay with the fact I combined these requests. I thought of a way to incorporate both and...well...you’ll see *wink* this maybe be the steamiest thing I’ve ever written so...be WARNED

Din Djarin is the most serious man you’ve ever met. 

Even after you established your relationship; even after he removed his helmet, revealing to you the most intimate parts of himself

You could not get Din Djarin to take a joke.

So, naturally, this meant you would try to make him laugh whenever the chance arose

But he never did

And it was infuriating because Din was unintentionally funny!

He would say things that would make you giggle.

For instance, with The Child, Din began to explore a whole new side to himself.

On longer trips in the Razor Crest, after you finished whatever maintenance, you’d climb up into the cockpit and catch him talking to the Child.

“I don’t know, womp rat.”

The Child would coo or gurgle in some mock reply.

“You think so? Could be dangerous.”

You’d try to stay as quiet as you could, waiting for the right moment to jump in and make a joke

But it never came.

You were too in love and in awe to interrupt the little play conversation. 

You couldn’t even find it in yourself to poke fun at Din for talking to the Child.

Partly because you didn’t want to ruin the sweet moments with your teasing

And also because there was something about the Child that made you think he understood Din when he talked to him.

Other things Din did still make you laugh.

Since he wore his helmet most times, his unreadable reactions made serious situations humorous with a small turn of his helmet.

And because Din was so professional, he was rather awkward when dealing with others.

Like on Sorgan!

“You can’t live here anymore.”

His lack of social tact never failed to make you smile. 

Even when he didn’t mean to be, Din was funny.

If you did point it out, his unintentional lapse in his stoic nature, he would just brush it off.

“I’m glad I can entertain you.”

“In more way than one,” you’d tease, slipping off his helmet.

His dark eyes were bright at your words and you help but grin.

Your teasing went two ways: humor and seduction.

But it perturbed you that Din could make you laugh, tease you into smiling, but you couldn’t do the same for him.

Not laughing couldn’t be healthy?! Right?

All you wanted was to hear Din laugh.

One morning, when you and Din were still in bed, the need to make him laugh was as overwhelming as the instinct to check on the Child.

You threw your legs out of the cot and started to get up.

“Where are you going?”

Din’s bare hand danced along your lower back. 

Careful yet curious fingers skirted under your shirt and tickled your skin.

You stayed on your shared bed for a lingering moment, leaned into his soft touch. 

He always had a way of keeping you by his side.

“To check on the kid,” you murmured softly.

Din’s dark eyes were barely open as you spoke. 

You turned and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth

“Rest. I’ll be right back.”

A small hum escaped Din’s lips and you took that as a tired submission.

Slowly, careful not to wake him fully, you peeled yourself out of bed and padded over to where the Child slept. 

With a small ‘whoosh’ the sliding down opened up and you studied the peaceful expression along the green creatures’ face. 

How much trouble could a being this tiny cause?

A lot, apparently.

You and Din had gotten shot at more now than any other time in your lives.

But it was worth it.

After all, it was the Child that brought you and Din together in the first place.

Satisfied that the Child was soundly asleep, you began to pad back over to your shared cot(s) with Din. 

As you walked inside, your eyes caught the glint of beskar.

The familiar slope of Din’s helmet held your attention. 

A thought entered your mind and a smile spread along your lips.

It was dumb.

It was stupid.

Hell, it could have been crossing a line.

But you knew, somewhere deep in your soul, that it would make Din laugh.

It had to.

You tenderly picked up Din’s helmet as if it were made of Naboo’s stained glass.

It was heavy, but also lighter than you expected it to be.

The weight dispersed when you slipped it on over your bed head. 

For a moment, your vision was shrouded.

Then the ‘T’ shaped, macrobinocular viewplate flickered to life.

A limited tactical display fell over your vision in a dull red color.

The crimson tint melded into the colors of the natural world; the stone greys of the Razor Crest and the shade of your skin.

You curled your lips together to keep from laughing at yourself. 

You could only imagine how ridiculous you looked with the sleek, Mandalorian helmet perched on your head without any of the accompanying armor applied.

Before you broke into a fit, you peeked around to catch a glimpse of Din in bed. 

His soft features were the perfect antithesis of the serious nature that laid within

The very serious nature you longed to see fractured

Even if only for a moment

And that was what you set out to do

You let out a cough, loud enough to stir Din.

On cue, his dark eyes blinked open, just barely.

“This is the way.”

Your voice was deeper, more akin to static from a droid’s voice.

“This is-” 

You were cut off by your own laughter.

 “The way,” you raised two finger guns and pointed them towards Din. “Fight me.”

Through the red haze, it was hard to tell what Din’s reaction was.

You weren’t used to the altered view; it was all strange to you. 

That was strange and so was the new sound that reached your ears.

It was like a humming

Low, like a rumbling engine

But rich, almost bright.

It was a strangely wonderful cacophony of a sound

A sound that brought a smile to your lips as you realized it came from Din.

He was laughing

Finally laughing!

His shoulders were shaking as he moved to sit up in bed. 

Sheets around him fell from his bare chest and you couldn’t take it anymore

You lifted the helmet from your head and set it to the side.

Unmuffled by the beskar, Din’s laughter made you swoon.

Smiling, you darted towards the bed and buried yourself next to Din’s side.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you to his chest. 

He was all warm and soft; the stress and the heat of the day had yet to set in. 

You let yourself melt into his touch

Your body turned to putty in his hands. 

His fingers tickled and brushed over patches of newly exposed skin, sending shivers through your entire being.

“Is that what I sound like?”

“All the time,” you wheezed through laughter.

A moment after, your back was pressed against the cushion of the cots and Din was all you saw.

He held himself up, waiting above you with his arms on either side of your head. 

Ah yes, this was a different form of teasing.

This was the other kind of teasing that Din didn’t know he was good at.

He still smelled of yesterdays work and sweat

His hair was a knotted mess from wearing his helmet and somewhat restless sleep

Yet he looked stunning to you

And, by the Maker, did you look stunning to him.

You lifted a wandering hand up to Din’s scruffy jaw as he looked down at you. 

In gentle touches, you brushed your fingers along the column of his throat.

You saw his shoulder and arms tense at your touch.

“I like the way you laugh,” you whispered.

Din grinned.

“Do you?”

You nodded as your fingers trailed down from Din’s throat to his shoulder.

Muscles beneath your touch tensed a second then relaxed.

With your other hand, you reached for his face.

You cupped his jaw and brought his lips close to yours.

“We have to get moving,” Din mumbled.

The chapped flesh on his lips brushed against your own.

A smile spread at the sensation.

“We do,” you tilted your chin up with your teasing tone. 

Another low sound, not a laugh, slipped from Din’s lips.

A groan.

“I like the way you sound.”

Din’s wide grin turned to a knowing, closed-lipped smile.

You, finally, closed the gap between the two of you and kissed him.

You melded together perfectly in a warm dance of limbs.

After that, it was hard to tell where you ended and where Din began.

You ‘worked’ together so well, too well maybe.

As you ‘worked’, Din’s serious demeanor returned but not completely.

When you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled, you could feel Din smile against your skin.

It was those little things you noticed; the little things you felt. 

Afterward, when you laid out on the cots still trying to still your racing heart, you looked at Din. 

He was getting ready to face the day. 

Shoulder pauldrons and breastplate on, he moved to the final shin guard.

Even covered in layers of beskar and a body stocking, Din looked amazing.

Silently, Din reached for his helmet.

Before he could put it on, you lifted your hand out to him.

“Wait.”

Din turned and, knowing exactly what you wanted, he brought your hand to his lips.

His lips were still wet from before.

When he leaned down to kiss your forehead, you let out a hum of approval.

Smiling, Din pulled away and placed the helmet on his head. 

"Can I ask you something?”

The visor turned to meet your gaze and you knew, in that instant, Din was all business again.

“Of course.”

You smiled cheesily.

“Is it hard to breathe in there?" 

Din almost laughs but the sound gets caught in his throat.

He almost says ‘yes’ simply because you’re there, in your shared bed, looking like that and looking at him.

Din almost says ‘yes’ but he knew teasing could be dished out both ways.

“No,” he said curtly.

You couldn’t see the smile hidden beneath his helmet

But you could feel it

And that was all you needed.

[hearts-hunger]

dralshy’a ka’ra (brighter stars): chapter two || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

chapter one

Series Summary: In the lake country of Naboo, you and Din romance each other under summer’s brighter stars. || Part Two of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: Din takes you to bed, and you both realize something you’ve been wanting but haven’t spoken to each other about.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut | Word Count: 4.3k 

Warnings: smut, skinny dipping, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, talk of babies and birth control, gratuitous mando’a (special thanks to this translator!)

A/N: This one’s tender, y’all ♡ Mr. and Mrs. Djarin are very partial to soft giggly lovemaking, and I hope you are too! ♡

“Din... how many more kriffing steps am I going to have to walk up tonight?”

He stopped and looked back around at you, at least five steps ahead, looking no worse for wear even though he was the one in tons of beskar. He cocked his head and you thought you could see the tell-tale shake of his shoulders as he laughed.

“Not that many more,” he soothed, his voice amused. He closed the distance between you and held out his hand to you. Mollified by the gesture, you took his hand; before you could thank him, you surprised even yourself with a squeal of protest as he tossed you over his shoulder like a wayward child.

“Din!” you half-laughed, half-yelped, your hands flailing uselessly against his back. He gave the back of your thigh a firm pat as he started up the steps again, carrying you up the incline like it was a stroll in the park.

“You don’t have to carry me up, Din,” you giggled. You rather liked being toted around so ungracefully, and you liked the way his arm stayed snugly over the back of your thighs.

He gave a light grunt, the only indication that carrying his wife up a staircase on the side of a mountain was the slightest bit difficult.

“Didn’t want to listen to your whining any more,” he teased. “Besides, we’re almost there.”

You settled as much as you could over his shoulder, content to let him take you the last bit of the way up. You’d gotten off the ferry - which you’d thoroughly enjoyed - and started up the winding steps carved into the mountain towards wherever Din was taking you. It really wasn’t that bad, but you were impatient to get there and a little fussy at how Din didn’t even seem short of breath. You should probably invest in a little Mandalorian-style endurance training; then again, when you had a very fit Mandalorian-style husband, the matter didn’t seem that pressing.

You had been nearly there, and Din set you down gently after a few minutes. He kept his hands on your waist, and you raised a brow at him.

“Close your eyes before your turn around,” he said. You smiled and did as he said, letting him steer you until you were facing, presumably, the place where you’d be staying through your trip.

“I don’t know if you’ll like it,” he said, and he sounded endearingly nervous. “I tried to pick somewhere I though you would like, and I... I hope it’s ok.”

You gave a soft laugh. You weren’t picky, and you were sure whatever place Din had picked out would be lovely.

“Okay,” he said. He rested his hands on your shoulders, their familiar weight comforting to you. “You can open your eyes.”

You did, and you couldn’t believe Din had been nervous about it at all. It was a gorgeous little villa, all light stone and climbing vines, warm and inviting. You looked back at him with a grin and hoped he knew how well he’d done.

“Can we go in?” you asked.

He chuckled. “Of course.”

You opened the front door and saw it was even prettier on the inside. You left Din’s side to look at everything, to explore every room - it was open for the most part, and most of the main room was taken up by a huge, inviting bed and a large fireplace set into the wall with a cheery fire crackling away in the grate. The entire right wall of the main room led out onto a shaded terrace with a pool that overlooked the lake and the surrounding mountains, so you’d be able to watch the sun rise from your bed in the morning and enjoy the sunlight all day. 

“Oh, Din,” you gushed. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said affectionately. “I’m glad you like it.”

You put your arms around his neck, wanting to be held; he obliged you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“You didn’t have to do all this for me,” you said, a little bashful.

He tapped his helmet against your head. “I wanted to,” he said. “You deserve it, for putting up with me and all the trouble I get us into.”

You laughed. “I like trouble. And I like you very much.” You kissed his visor. “But, I also like that pool very much.”

You unwound yourself from his arms and decided to be a little spontaneous; you undressed for him then and there, discarding your clothes in a heap on the floor without a care in the world. You smirked a little at how he watched you - you could imagine how high his brow had quirked in surprise and intrigue - and teased him further by unhooking your bra and offering it to him, dangling it by the strap.

“Um, thanks,” he said, his voice cracking a little. It was so sweet that you almost took pity on him, but you liked knowing how you affected him and gave him a coy smile as he took your bra from you and held it a too-tight grip.

He looked so collected, hidden behind his beskar, and you desperately wanted to see him; you wanted to see how he looked at you, to see the expression on his face as he watched you. More than anything, you wanted to touch him; you wanted to feel his skin on yours, to feel his warmth. You resisted the urge to help him undress and gave him one last tease instead.

“Come have a swim with me, Mando,” you said, tracing a finger down his chest plate. “Don’t take too long getting your armor off.”

Before he could answer, you walked out onto the terrace and dove into the pool with the practiced ease of someone who’d spent every free moment in her youth swimming in the lakes and rivers of Naboo. The water was wonderfully cool on your skin, and you surfaced to a darkening sky with the first stars shining brighter than you’d ever remembered them.

You swam over to the edge of the pool, propping your arms on the edge and watching your husband with unabashed attention. He was always careful with his armor - even in your more frenzied trysts, he always took the time to put all his armor together so he could find it easily if he needed to. The gloves and belt came first, then the thigh and shin plates, vambraces, and pauldrons. His chest plate followed, then his boots. It was an intricate ritual, the putting-on or removal of his armor; you’d always loved to watch it, to see how methodical he was with it.

He turned to place his armor neatly on the settee at the foot of your bed, and didn’t turn back towards you when he took his helmet off. You smiled to yourself; it was his own way of teasing you a little, making you wait to see him. He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the beautiful brown curls, and placed his helmet next to his armor.

He made quick work of the flight suit, and you felt a warm and comfortable desire as you saw the planes of his back, the ridges of his lean and hard-won muscles. When he turned to face you, your breath caught in his chest; maker, he was beautiful, and you almost couldn't believe he was yours.

His dive was graceful, but he surfaced with a grin and a little splutter. He swam around for a minute, enjoying the feeling of the water on his skin, basking in the warm night air; you watched him with a lovesick smile, endeared by how much he was enjoying himself.

“It feels so nice,” he said as he swam over to you, his expression happy and relaxed and open. You loved how expressive he was; he had never really learned to make his face unreadable, and was more honest and open in his expressions than anyone you’d ever met. 

He took you in his arms, drawing him close to you; you rested your arms on his broad shoulders and sank into the feeling of his skin on yours. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, studying your face like you were something precious. You kissed him deeply, sweet and messy and wanting.

“Did you like my little show, earlier?” you asked, tracing your thumb over his bottom lip. He grinned.

“Yes, I did,” he said. “I wanted to come in after you, beskar and all.”

You laughed at the mental image of your husband in the pool in all his armor. “Good thing you have a little self control, then.”

He gave an affectionate hum of agreement as he nuzzled against your neck, kissing light love marks into your skin. You tilted your head back to allow him better access and carded your hands through his wet curls, pressing against him as closely as you could. 

He pulled you close and led you into deeper water; when you couldn’t touch, you let him carry you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and felt a thrill of pleasure at the way his breath caught in his chest.

He made to kiss you again, and though you knew he wanted more, you only gave him a quick, chaste kiss. He raised a brow and watched your face for an explanation.

“Patience, my love,” you said with a smile. “I want to do something first.”

You put a hand to his cheek, tracing over the features you knew so well; he relaxed and settled for rubbing circles against your hips. 

He was beautiful, the ruggedness of his strong features softened by the gentleness of them. His brow, dark and noble; his mouth, soft and quick to smile. You brushed back a few dark curls that fell over his forehead and traced down the line of his nose; his expression scrunched up a little at that, and he gave a gentle laugh.

He let you take your time like you wanted, gazing at you with his lovely brown eyes framed by dark lashes and laugh lines. You brushed your fingers over his jaw and dipped your fingers to his collarbone, feeling his pulse jump a little at your touch.

You put your fingertips on his mouth. “I love you.”

He kissed your fingers. “I love you too, cyar’ika.”

You moved your fingers and kissed him, softly and slowly. He was patient and deepened your kiss gradually, groaning softly against your mouth when you pressed your hips against him. You felt the way he responded to your touch and felt yourself respond as well, that familiar tight heat making itself known between your legs.

“I want you,” you said, already a little breathless. He kissed your collarbone and moved his hands to the small of your back.

“Now it’s your turn to be patient, cyare,” he said, his voice warm and full of desire. “Lean back for me.”

You did as he said, letting him support you with his hands on your back; the stars were brilliant now that night had truly fallen, thousands of them in the cloudless sky. You fleetingly wondered if you remembered any of the constellations, if you - 

“Kriff, Din,” you breathed, all thoughts of the stars gone the second you felt his mouth on your breast. He chuckled against your skin, steadying you as you gave a soft moan.

“Do that again,” you said.

“Don’t worry,” he assured you. He swirled his tongue over your nipple, moving one hand to knead your other breast, gentle and determinedly patient.

“So beautiful,” he said, kissing down your breastbone. Then, his voice deepened a little as it always was when he spoke his native tongue. “Mesh’la, ner cyare.” Beautiful, my beloved.

His voice and his mouth on your skin made you flush with desire, and you raised yourself up to kiss him, impatient and needy. He kissed you back just as deeply, his hands moving all over you; you gave a choked moan when his cock met your heat, and you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing against him, needing friction.

“You asked to take me to bed,” you said against his mouth. “Take me, then.”

His grip on your waist tightened, but his smile was gentle as he realized how much you wanted him, how needy you were for him. “As you wish, riduur.”

You didn’t want to spare the time, but you didn’t want to get the bed soaking wet either, and grudgingly took a moment to towel off as you got out of the pool. You consoled yourself with watching Din dry off, seeing the way the water shone on his skin in the firelight.

“Come here,” he told you, tossing his towel over the arm of the settee. You did as he said, tipping your face up for a kiss; he gave you one, but it was clear he had something different in mind. He picked you up by the waist and laid you back on the bed, standing between your legs, hovering over you and giving you feather-light kisses all over your body.

“Din,” you whined. As sweet as it was, you needed him to touch you with more than these teasing little glances. 

“So needy,” he cooed, lowering himself to his knees between your legs and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. He kissed your thighs, his scruff rasping against your skin. “What do you want, my love? Tell me what you want from me.”

You gave a little gasp as he nipped at your inner thigh. “Um - I need - ” You almost blushed. “Touch me, please, Din.”

He hummed in agreement, inching closer to your heat. “How do you want me to touch you, cyar’ika?”

Oh, hang it all - he was enjoying this little game, and you knew you’d have to play along. You bit your lip; how could he still make you as nervous and fluttery as a schoolgirl after all this time?

“Your tongue,” you said, the words coming out a little tight. “Please, Din.”

He gave a soft, pleased laugh, and you knew you’d given him what he wanted.

“Hmm, like this?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he spread your legs further and licked a slow stripe over your heat, maddeningly patient as his tongue swirled over the places he knew made you moan. He was rewarded for his efforts as you keened and twisted the sheets in your grip, utterly entranced by the feel of his tongue on your heat, his nose nudging against your clit.

“Jatisyc,” he rasped in Mando’a, giving a last skillful touch to your entrance before he moved to suck on your clit. You tangled your fingers in his hair.

“What - ” you gasped. “What does that mean?”

He lifted his head and grinned at you as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Delicious,” he said, hovering over you, leaning on his forearm beside you. He kissed you, and you gave a gasping moan as he eased two fingers into you.

“Please,” you managed. You weren’t sure what you were asking for, but he seemed to know; he rubbed his thumb over your clit and you saw stars.

“Din,” you said desperately. He took his time and set a steady pace, stopping his kisses every so often to watch your face, and his look of adoration alone was almost enough to drive you over the edge. You gripped his shoulder and moved your hips against his hand, feeling yourself come unraveled beneath him.

“Oh, Din, ‘m gonna cum,” you gasped. 

“Maker, you look so beautiful,” he said, his voice deep with pleasure. “I love you so much, cyar’ika. Cum for me, my love.”

You could feel every callus on his work-hardened hands, strong and yet holding you like you were the most priceless treasure that might break apart with too strong a grip. He curled his fingers and hit the spot that made you tumble over the edge, moans and breathless curses falling from your lips.

He caught your moans against his mouth as he kissed you, drawing out your orgasm as long as he could for you. You babbled your thanks as you tangled your fingers in his hair, bringing him down to lay on top of you, deliriously happy in the crush of heat and limbs and kisses.

“I love you,” you said breathlessly. “Thank you, thank you.”

He chuckled and gave you sweet, sloppy kisses under your jaw. “My pleasure, cyare. Thank you for letting me.”

You kissed there for a few minutes before you realized it couldn’t have been that comfortable for him, and you parted just long enough for both of you to get on the bed. He hovered over you and kissed you everywhere he could reach, worshiping you with his touch and his steady praise.

“My love, ner cyar’ika riduur,” he murmured against your skin. “Mesh’la dala, my dear heart.”

You were almost embarrassed when you felt the sting of tears; sometimes you couldn’t believe how deeply he loved you, how desperately he desired you.

He gave a soft, sympathetic laugh when he kissed away a single tear. “Cyar’ika,” he said gently, trying to soothe you before he even knew what was wrong. “What is it?”

You hid your face against his shoulder. “It’s silly,” you said quietly. “Sorry.”

“No, cyare,” he said, kissing your neck with every gentleness, the roaming of his hands turned from teasing more to comforting. “Tell me. Are you unhappy?”

You kissed his cheek, nosed against his jaw. “No, I’m... happier than I’ve been in a long time,” you said truthfully. “Just... thank you for loving me the way you do.”

His smile was soft and a little wobbly with his own emotion when he lifted his head to look at you. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “I know I could live a thousand lifetimes and never love you like you deserve, but I vowed to love you faithfully, and I will be pleased to do so until my dying breath.”

You allowed yourself a little smile; he was always so poetic when he got romantic and emotional, and you wouldn’t have him any other way. You kissed him, feeling the depth of his conviction to live by your riduurok, your love-bond, your marriage vows.

“Vercopa baar bal runi tome solus, cyar’ika,” he said against your skin. You knew it was Mando’a, but you could only translate some of the words.

“Tell me what that means,” you said. He smiled.

“Let our bodies and our souls be together as one, my beloved,” he said tenderly.

“Oh,” you managed, a little dazed with pleasure at the thought. “Oh, Din, you should say that to me more often.”

He chuckled and settled himself between your legs. “Alright, my love?”

You nodded and carded your fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of his curls. He took his time easing into you, catching your moans against his mouth until he was buried to the hilt inside you.

“Beautiful,” he said, like he would never say it enough. He brushed your hair back from your face and studied you with so much love that you couldn’t help but give him a beaming smile.

“That good already?” he asked, low and affectionate.

You laughed softly against his mouth as he kissed you. “It’s always that good, Din. Even just being with you.”

“Hm. I’m not sure if that’s a vastly generous compliment of my company or a low blow at my sexual prowess.”

You really laughed then, and he laughed with you, and it was a heady mix to hear his laughter and feel him deep inside you. You thought of what he’d said - let our bodies and our souls be together as one.  

“I love you,” you said. “And I love your company, and I think you’re mind-blowingly good in bed. How’s that?”

He smiled as he kissed you, and you gave a shaky breath when he started to move.

“Very sweet of you, cyare,” he said affectionately. “I’ll do my best to be mind-blowingly good for you, alright?”

You knew as soon as he snapped his hips against yours, he’d have no problem with that whatsoever. He was slow and patient, as he always was, careful and attentive and tender. He rocked his hips against yours fast enough to make you desperate for him but slow enough to bury himself deeply with each thrust and kiss you like he wanted, making you moan and twist with pleasure beneath him.

“Din,” you said, over and over. His hand found yours and held tightly, like you were the only thing tethering him in the whole galaxy. You felt your pleasure crest between your hips.

“Oh, please, right there,” you said. He rubbed your clit in time with the steady drag of his cock in and out of you, and you knew you were close.

Then, with a clarity that snapped you out of the haze of pleasure and made you gasp with realization, you remembered something very important.

“Din!”

He stopped immediately, hearing the change in your tone; you knew it had to have been hard for him, and his expression held a slight grimace as he looked to you.

“What is it, love?” he asked, breathless. 

You met his eyes and almost didn’t know how to say it.

“Um - I - ” You blushed. “I’m not on my birth control.”

He looked a little bemused, and with good reason - you’d been taking birth control for as long as you’d been married, and you’d never talked about coming off of it.

“You - you what?” he asked. “Since when?”

“I ran out of them,” you explained. You hadn’t meant to come off of them, but you’d completely forgotten it had even happened. “I ran out of them right before we crashed on the frozen planet, and in everything that happened after, I...”

He nodded. “Yeah, I can understand forgetting it in all the confusion.” He glanced between you and then looked back at your face in question.

“Should we stop?”

And oh, you were so in love with him you thought your heart would break with it.

“No,” you said quietly, thinking about your conversation earlier, when the plural “kids” had slipped out, and how much you’d wanted to tell him then and there - you wanted to have another baby with him.

“I...” You felt nervous and shy, even though you knew you didn’t need to - you could be honest with Din, even if you didn’t know what his response would be. Even if he didn’t want more kids, he’d be kind and gentle with you when he told you so.

“I want another baby,” you said softly.

You waited for him to answer, but you saw it on his face before he spoke.

“Really?” he asked, delighted and eager and more in love with you than you deserved. “You really want another baby?”

You nodded, and you couldn't help a smile when he laughed out loud.

“Maker, I love you so much,” he said, kissing you with that big grin on his face. “I want another baby, too. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”

You were a bit overwhelmed with relief and happiness and sheer adoration for your husband, and you held his face in your hands as he kissed you.

“Let’s have another baby,” he said.

He looked so beautiful to you just then, his smile soft and warm, his curls catching the firelight, his strong body relaxed and comfortable against you.

“Okay,” you agreed, happier than you had ever been. “Let’s have another baby.”

With a kiss that said just how deeply he loved you, he started to move again, steadily bringing both of you back to the edge you’d very nearly been at before. Each snap of his hips seemed more deliberate now, intentional - he wanted to please you, and he wanted to make a baby with you. You hoped it wouldn’t take long to achieve the latter, but you knew neither of your would mind trying until you got it right.

He drew you to your orgasm with skill and tenderness, and he followed soon after as you tightened around him and breathed his name over and over. He kissed you fervently as you came down from your high in each other’s arms, praising you and thanking you and telling you how happy he was.

He cradled you tenderly against him as he lay beside you, running his fingers over your skin, soothing and gentle. You pressed against him, wanting his warmth, wanting to be as near to him as you could.

“Remind me how you say ‘I love you’ in Mando’a,” you said, putting your hand to his cheek. He smiled.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” he said, his voice warm and tired and affectionate. “I hold you in my heart forever.”

You repeated it back to him, fumbling a little on the finer points of the pronunciation - you loved it when he spoke it to you, but Mando’a had never been your strong suit. He didn’t seem to mind, though, as he kissed you and held you closer.

“I love you too,” he said. “I could never tell you how much, cyar’ika.”

You cuddled closer to him as he drew the blankets over you, resting your head against his chest as you listened to the crackling of the fire mix with the sound of his steady breaths that were evening out towards sleepiness. He gently brushed his fingers through your hair and hummed a gentle lullaby, and his kiss on your forehead was the last thing you felt before you fell asleep safely held in your husband’s arms.

Read chapter three!

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekchic, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl​, @stardust-galaxies​, @theorganasolo​, @qhbr2013​ ♡

series taglist: @kyjoraven​, @sarahjkl82-blog​, @remmysbounty​, @bitchin-beskar​, @cosmicbreathe​ ♡

let me know if you’d like to be added to either taglist! ♡

[raiseyourcups]

Cabur

Chapter Five

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character Warnings: none, it’s a pretty chill chapter setting up Sorgan Word Count: 2.8k Also on AO3 

Masterlist

Summary: Our trio makes it to Sorgan but will they be able to stay?

They landed in a clearing in the middle of nowhere and Aili was quick to head down to the gangway. She was already tired of being on this ship with the Mandalorian just silently sitting and staring. She didn’t have anything but the silence on her own ship but even that was more comfortable. She couldn't make out what the Mandalorian was telling the Child, who really needed a name of some sort, but she could imagine that he wouldn't listen. Her suspicions were confirmed when she noticed the small kid waddling after Mando. She bit her lip to stop from smiling.

The Mandalorian opened the gangway before he finally looked down at the Child beside him. Aili could hear him let out a sigh, it sounded crackly thanks to his helmet's voice modulator. 

“He’s not going to stay if we leave.” Aili said quietly. She tried hard to keep the amused smile off of her face but it wasn’t working. The Mandalorian looked at her before looking back down at the Child. 

"Ah, what the hell...come on, kid."

The three of them walked through the wooded area silently, Aili making sure to take in everything around them. She knew the Mandalorian was probably doing the same thing, just because they hadn’t been followed didn’t mean they were in the clear. They came across what looked like a community hub in Aili’s opinion, maybe a common house. Everyone was talking amongst themselves and absolutely no one looked ready to start throwing punches.

The Mandalorian chose a table away from everyone else but not too far back just in case they had to run. He picked up the Child and placed him on the seat next to him and Aili sat on the other side of the little green kid in order to flank him just in case something happened. 

Aili did a quick glance from one end of the common house to the other and noticed a woman sitting against the far wall by herself. Hmm, interesting. What was she doing here? Aili let her gaze fall onto the proprietor walking their way figuring they wouldn’t have any trouble from the woman in the corner. She knew when someone was trying to hide from their past, she saw it every time she looked in a mirror.

“Welcome travelers, can I interest you in anything?” The proprietor, a woman who had probably spent her whole life on Sorgan, came up to them with a smile on her face.

“Bone broth, for the little one.”

“Well you’re in luck ‘cause I just took down a gringer, can I interest you two in a porringer of broth as well?" The proprietor asked, eyebrows raised in the hopes of a bigger sale. 

“Yes, please.”

“No.”

Both Aili and the Mandalorian said at the same time. 

Aili tried not to glare at the Mandalorian. She wasn't sure how he wasn't hungry but she hadn't eaten anything since before they left Nevarro. She smiled up at the proprietor and makde her next words drip with sugar, “I would love some, ignore him. He gets a little grumpy after a long flight.”

“Oh where did you come from?”

“Would you believe if I told you we came all the way from Batuu?” Aili wasn't stupid. She wasn't going to tell the woman the truth, that way if anyone showed up asking about them, the information wouldn't match. Nevarro was a ways away from Batuu after all. And if they were lucky, Karga was dead and no one knew to ask for a Mandalorian travelling with a woman and child. 

“Really?”

“We got to talking with someone who said Sorgan would be just as beautiful as the Spires and so we decided to come right over. But the trip was very long, could we actually get a porringer to go so he can have some later when he’s less grumpy?” Aili could almost feel the glare the Mandalorian was giving her behind his helmet but she didn’t care. For someone who wanted to lay low he was exceptionally bad at making himself less intimidating. Playing up the odd couple and their alien kid would work in their favor making them fit in easier. And if Mando wanted to stay here for longer than a night, they needed to fit in.

“No problem for someone as nice as you."

“Thank you."

She was about to leave when the Mandalorian made a sound. “Excuse me, but that one over there. When did she arrive?" He tilted his head towards where the shock trooper that Aili had spotted earlier was sitting. 

“Um, I’ve seen her here for the last week or so," the proprietor shrugged her shoulders, unsure why they wanted to know.

“What’s her business here?"

“Business? There’s really not much in Sorgan so I really can’t say. I mean she doesn’t strike me as a...log runner.” She trailed off as Mando placed several coins on the table between them. Aili hid a cringe behind her hand. “Thank you, sir. I’ll get that broth to you right away and I’ll throw in a flagon of spotchka just for good measure.”

“Really?” Aili asked as soon as the women left. “You call that laying low, asking questions and bribing someone, and where are you going?”

She glared at his retreating back and wondered if she should follow before deciding that if he wanted to get his ass handed to him by a rebel shock trooper then he could be her guest. But she wasn’t about to leave the kid on his own and the proprietor was so nice that she would feel bad if they just left now. Besides she had given too much of a cover story for them to just leave. She thanked the proprietor when she placed the bowls of bone broth in front of her and the kid and even though she could tell the kid was itching to follow Mando, she was able to get him to take a few sips of his broth.  

"Want to go see what he's up to, kid?" Aili asked, looking down at the Child. He let out a coo and she picked him up, bowl and all. She gave the proprietor a quick nod, pointing back at their table to let her know they would be back.

As soon as she stepped outside she heard boots dragging on dirt and small grunts. She looked up towards the sky and asked for any higher power to give her the patience to deal with this. She put the kid down and they both walked over towards the sounds.  Well, she walked and the kid shuffled after her. 

Aili looked down at the two with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips. She was not amused by them choosing to fight each other rather than talking it out. The Child seemed to be amused though, sipping his bone broth contently as he watched them. They both slowly looked over when the kid took a loud slurp of his broth. 

“Anyone else want some soup?” She didn’t wait for either of them to get up, turning on her heel and scooping up the Child so they could head back into the small cantina. She heard them get up to follow her back and they all sat down at the table. There was a short silence between them before the shock trooper broke it. 

“Cara Dune.”

“Aili Verdella.”

The Mandalorian stayed quiet but neither of the women were that surprised. 

“So, shock trooper?” AIli asked, her curiosity needing to know if she had gotten it right from her earlier glance. 

“Saw most of my action mopping up after Endor, mostly ex-Imperial warlords. They wanted it fast and quiet so they’d send us on drop ships. No support, just us. Then the politics started and I didn’t care for that so I left.”

“How’d you end up here?” The Mandalorian asked. 

“Early retirement of sorts. Look I could tell you were Guild, thought you had a fob on me, that’s the only reason I came at you so hard.”

“I figured.”

“So what are a Mandalorian and an...ow!” Cara was cut off by a sharp kick to the shin. She glared at Aili who gave an icy stare back. The Mandalorian looked between the two of them, eyes narrowed from behind his helmet. He didn’t like not knowing something that everyone else knew. 

“What am I missing here?”

“My leg slipped, sorry,” Aili said before Cara could say anything. “He skipped on a bounty and now we need somewhere to lay low.”

“Well, unless you want to go another round, this planet’s taken.”

“Clearly,” Aili said. She knew better than to steal someone else’s hiding spot and she figured the Mandalorian was the same way. 

They stayed in the common house until the kid finished his bowl of broth before they headed back out. The proprietor had come by before and gave them the bowl she had promised to save for the Mandalorian along with a bottle of Spotchka. They made it back to the Razor Crest shortly but not quick enough to make it before the sun set. 

“I need to make some repairs before we leave,” Mando said, already going into the ship and returning with a tool box. 

“Need help?” Aili asked as she watched the Mandalorian place the tool box into the ground before he went to move onto the ship again. 

“No.”

“Not even to bring out your lights?” Aili didn’t much care for the Mandalorian’s tough guy, ‘only I can help myself’ attitude. It wouldn’t help in the long run at all and the sooner he realized that, the sooner she could help him. 

“Fine.”

They made quick work of setting up the lights in a way that he would be able to see what he was doing but not be too bright in the dark forest. The last thing they needed was to be found because they were shining a literal beacon leading to them. Aili sat on the back gangway as Mando worked on some of the wiring under one of the landing gears. The kid had gone to sleep a while ago, something they were both grateful for since he was a handful already. Aili still wasn’t sure she really believed that he was 50 years old. 

There was nothing but the chirping sound of whatever bug life Sorgan had when Aili heard hesitant footsteps coming their way. No bounty hunter would be that obvious or that hesitant. She hopped down and made her way to where Mando was just in case. There were two locals looking scared out of their minds. No threat to anyone except maybe the bugs flying around. But she kept to the shadows of the ship for now.

“Excuse me.” 

The Mandalorian made no move to acknowledge them but Aili knew that he had to know they were there. 

“Excuse me, sir.” The other local tried this time, voice a little louder but nonetheless scared. 

“There something I can help you with?” Mando moved under the landing gear, not stopping what he was doing. Aili took note that he sounded more than a little annoyed. 

“Uh, yeah. Raiders,” one of the men said.

“We have money,” the other added quickly. 

That caught Aili’s attention. She had a decent amount of credits saved up but didn’t know about the Mandalorian. Eventually though they would need more money now that they were obviously blacklisted from the Guild and on the run. 

“You think I’m some kind of mercenary?”

“You’re a Mandalorian, right?” The one man said and Aili cringed. Not all Mandalorians were mercenaries and she had only heard rumors of one during the war. So this man’s comment was ill-advised. 

“Or at least wearing Mandalorian armor? That is Mandalorian armor, right?” The other man sounded more in awe of seeing an actual Mandalorian than his friend. 

“It is.”

“See? I told him. Sir, I’ve read a lot about your people...tribe. If half of what I read is true--”

“We have money.” The first man interrupted before the other could go on a rant. 

“How much?” Aili asked, walking out of the shadows and bringing their attention onto her now. She could tell Mando wasn’t interested but that didn’t mean he had to be an ass about it. 

“Everything we have. Our whole harvest was stolen.”

“We’re krill farmers.”

“We brew spotchka, the whole village chipped in.”

The Mandalorian turned to look at the small pouch the one man was holding. “It’s not enough.”

“Come on, Mando, we don’t even know what the job is,” Aili could tell they were desperate people. It took desperate people to come looking for what they hoped were mercenaries. She assumed they had seen them flying overhead when they came in to land. 

“It’s not enough,” Mando said, looking straight at Aili before turning to the men. “Good luck.”

“This is everything we have, we can give you more after the next harvest.” The men jumped back when the gangway started opening and Aili glared at Mando. He was being a kriffing ass to these people for no reason. 

“Come on...let’s head back.” The dejected sound in the man’s voice pulled at something in Aili. She never had been able to ignore the desperate and unprotected. Hadn’t been able to since she was 18 and stupid. 

“Stay there.” Aili said to them before storming over to Mando. “Hey! Stop being an ass and maybe think about helping them.”

“No. It’s not enough and we’ve already spent too much time here.” He didn’t even bother to look at her as he spoke which made her annoyance with him just about shoot up into the atmo. 

“Is that the best you can come up with?” Aili turned on her heel to call back towards the locals. Maybe their village would be in a place they could lay low for a while. She really needed a break from the Crest before getting back on it with the buckethead. “Hey, where’s your village?”

“About a day’s ride from here, middle of nowhere. On a farm, weren’t you listening?”

“I was, he wasn’t.” Aili said before continuing. “You have lodging?”

“Yeah. Absolutely.”

Aili turned to face the Mandalorian with one eyebrow raised. The helmet stared back at her for a long moment before his shoulders went up and down in a sigh. He turned towards the krill farmers, “Come up and help”

“You’ll help us?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry about him,” Aili said as they walked up the gangway. The four of them made quick work, unloading everything the Mandalorian deemed necessary. Aili grabbed her bags and the kid from the little cot the Mandalorian still dared to call a bed. Her back had actually ached for the first time in a long time when she slept on it the one time. 

“I need one more thing, give me those credits.”

“Where are you going?” Aili asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. It wasn’t like they needed any ammo or even more weapons. Between the two of them they could fit a small army. 

“To get a shock trooper.”

“Huh, good idea, I knew you had a brain in there somewhere.”

“Stay with the Child.”

“Obviously,” Aili said as she hopped onto the repulsorlift and made sure the kid was okay. She moved a few of the boxes around knowing they’d need more room if they wanted to be comfortable in any way. 

“So are you and the Mandalorian like…” the more excited of the two men trailed off and Aili gave him a deadly stare. 

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Aili said bluntly. They let silence fall over them after that which Aili was thankful for. It didn’t take much longer for the Mandalorian and Cara to show up. The two women exchanged short nods before everyone climbed onto the repulsorlift. The repulsorlift began to move and the Mandalorian began to explain the job to Cara. 

“So we’re basically running off a bunch of Raiders for lunch money?”

“They’re quartering us in the middle of nowhere. Last I checked that’s a pretty square deal for somebody in your position. Worst case, you tune up your blaster.  Best case, we’re a deterrent. Can’t imagine there’s anything living in these trees that an ex-shock trooper couldn’t handle.”

Cara stared at him before conceding and turning to speak to Aili. “Is he always like this?”

“A condescending pain in the ass?” Aili asked before smirking and shrugging. “Wouldn’t know, only been stuck with him for a few days and they have been long.”

“Are you two finished?” The Mandalorian asked before stretching out to lean back against one of the bags he had brought off the ship. Cara and Aili shared one last glance before settling down as well. They all drifted to sleep, Cara on one side and the Mandalorian on the other. Aili wound up in the middle with the kid to keep him warm.

[rebelhan]

hello i would like to humbly request something with the making out on a cowch meme, pref mando please and thanks <333333

picture of cowch at the bottom for your reference... you have been warned

pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

word count: 1.3k+

warnings: crack fic, making out, fluff, furniture shopping, meme at the bottom of the post

a/n: i literally cant believe i wrote this... anyways yes its a crack fic and yes i wrote it seriously.. i really struggled to keep this short............. i advise that you read the fic before looking at the pic so you might enjoy actually enjoy it.

ao3 link

requests open! masterlist

It’s not the strangest piece of furniture either of you have seen, but it is definitely in the top ten. You shouldn’t have been so surprised, after all, Mos Eisley is known for its strange wares. It seems to be some sort of animal, one neither of you have laid eyes on before, though that’s not out of the ordinary. No amount of time is enough to visit every corner of the galaxy.

And yet no matter how strange the item in question is, both of you seem to have become enamored with it. Din has already gone to find the owner of the piece and ask for the price while you’re still studying the black and white monstrosity. The gears are already clicking in your head, mentally mapping the cargo hold of the Razor Crest around the piece. It should fit.

You see Din walk back to you out of the corner of your eye. “It should fit,” you tell him.

He nods in acknowledgement. You are of one mind on this decision it seems.

“How much is it?” you ask.

His shoulders droop. He lets out a long stream of air. It sounds metallic passing through the filters on his helmet but you know what it means.

“Fifteen hundred credits.”

You suddenly feel lightheaded and it’s not from the blistering heat of Tatooine.

You sit down on the sofa in question, training your gaze on the beskar clad man. The sun reflecting off his armor makes him nearly impossible to look at. The couch has been slowly roasting under the sun since the market opened and the heat it has absorbed seeps into your skin even through your clothes.

“Pragmatically speaking,” you say, “there is no need for us to buy this. It would fit in the cargo hold but it would be tight. It doesn’t even look nice.” You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself more than anything else.

Din sits beside you, spreading his legs wide and slinging one arm behind you. The tassets covering his thighs are uncharacteristically warm against your legs, you aren’t used to the feeling given the ever cool temperature of the Razor Crest.

“And fifteen hundred credits is a good chunk of our savings. Or at least a month or two of work,” he says. His voice is warm and low, so smooth that no filter in his armor can strip him of his ability to send a shiver down your spine.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you acknowledge the cost, but your consciousness is dedicated to staring at his legs. He takes up space, claims it for himself. He looks relaxed, an uncommon occurrence that has your mouth watering. Heat surrounds you on all sides, between the hulking man of metal, the ghastly piece of furniture you sit on, and the scorching desert air. It takes one glance towards the dark visor of his helmet for him to know exactly where your mind is. He’d be lying if his mind hadn’t also been there since the moment he saw the couch.

“So we shouldn’t buy it,” you say. Your voice comes out breathless. Even as you say it you’re regretting the words. It wasn’t so much about the couch itself, but what activities could potentially occur on said couch. Din’s meager cot was far too uncomfortable for the appetite the two of you shared. And though it was ugly, Maker was it ugly, something pulled you both towards it and you could not pull away.

“No we shouldn’t,” he says. You pick up on the slight strain to his voice and feel a little triumphant in the fact that you aren’t the only one picturing the possibilities.

You place a hand on his helmet and guide his head towards you. He lets you do as you please, leaning where you direct him, until you press your forehead against his. Din freezes. You focus your eyes on the visor, and though you can’t see his face, you know he’s staring right back. His helmet doesn’t pick up on it, but his breaths come out shallow and ragged.

It’s likely no one around you knows enough about Mandalorian customs to understand exactly what is happening. It feels private. But Din rarely even holds your hand outside the Razor Crest and you know this is all too much for him. You know that he’s heating up like a furnace inside his armor.

He breaks in ten seconds.

The couch is yours in thirty more.

It’s not as much of a hassle to get the sofa to the Razor Crest as you thought it would be. It helps that both of you are of a one track mind and Din brought his jetpack with him to Mos Eisley’s market.

It’s a little more difficult to drag the thing up the Razor Crest’s ramp. By the time it’s situated in the cargo hold, the both of you are more than a little out of breath.

He moves quickly. His hands shift over his vambrace and the ship is sealed. You dart to his cot and grab the blindfold. It’s secure over your eyes just as Din flicks off the lights in the cargo hold. You hold your breath when you hear the telltale whoosh of air that releases when his helmet is undone, until the clang of the metal hitting a surface resounds through the cabin.

Then it’s the slap of his leather gloves falling against a table. And then you feel his hands on yours, tugging you gently. There’s an echoing thunk and you know he is seated on the couch. Then your shins hit his.

He grabs at the back of your thighs, urging you forward until you lift one leg after the other onto the sofa, your thighs caging his. His hands find your waist, pushing down, settling you in his lap. The metal of his tassets is hard, insistent, even through your clothes.

You are surrounded by his armor beneath your hands, surging up to find the warmth of his skin, his scent, dark spice and earthy. He rucks up your shirt, splaying his fingers across your ribs while your palm finally, finally, finds his chin. His stubble is prickly on your fingertips, but it’s the last thing on your mind when you pull his lips to meet yours.

His lips are soft. You are surprised by this every time you kiss him. How a man made up entirely of hard lines and a literal steel gaze could be so soft is entirely a mystery to you. But then you feel his grip tightening, undoubtedly pressing bruises into your skin, and his armor digging into your thighs as you pull yourself impossibly closer to him.

He drags his tongue against you and you oblige, granting him entrance. He licks into your mouth. He is somehow wet heat and cold metal, all at once, overwhelming your senses entirely. His hand crawls up your spine, pushing you towards him. You jolt into his chest when the cool steel of his vambrace meets your skin.

Then he’s kissing at your jaw, marking a trail down your neck in little bites. One of your hands slides into his hair instinctively, finding purchase in his thick hair, urging him on, and the other blindly grasps at the back of the couch. In the dark of the Razor Crest, on the other side of your blindfold, your knuckles turn white as Din sucks a harsh mark at the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Din.”

His name falls from your lips in a whisper, but it’s loud to your sensitive ears, amplified by the loss of your sight.

He stops his assault on your neck to chuckle into your collarbone. You feel the sound vibrate in your bones. 

“I’d say the couch has already been well worth the price, wouldn’t you?” he murmurs into your skin.

He follows his question by biting at your pulse point and you can do little else but nod at him, your breath leaving you in little ragged bursts.

------

thank you for reading! here’s the cowch meme if you made it this far