#din djarin x reader one bed

[imaginedisish]

Sparks (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

A/N: HELLLOOOO everyone!!! Here is the Din Djarin x reader fic I said I’d post. This is my first fic in a few months so please forgive me. I am exhausted, and I’ve been writing this throughout my day (may or may not have been writing and editing in class). Thus, this may be incredibly sloppy. I am so sorry. HOWEVER, this is incredibly SMUTTY so minors SCRAM! I hope you guys enjoy. The song I reference is “Sparks” by Coldplay and it very much inspired this....but so did Cardigan by Taylor Swift. Anyway...enough of me talking...ENJOY!

Summary: Din looking out for you turns into so much more than either of you could have ever imagined (featuring *there’s only one bed*). 

Warnings: Major pining, Jedi!reader, SMUT so 18+, cursing, PIV, fingering/oral (f!receiving) no mentions of birth control so WRAP it before you TAP IT FOLKS, references to canon typical violence and injuries, idiots to lovers, crest still exists bc im a lazy writer... I think that’s it...

Word Count: 3,221

The stars flash by the Crest in a streaky, messy blur. The light reflects off the beskar clad man next to you. The conversation had died down a half an hour ago. Now you and Din sat in warm, comfortable silence. You should really head to your bunk, but you don’t want to. You’re fighting to keep your eyes open at this point. You feel like a child on the back of a speeder, confidently telling their parents they aren’t tired, that they won’t fall asleep on the way home this time. Every second you get with Din counts, even if it means falling asleep in the cockpit and waking up with a sore back. The uncomfortable chair was worth the reward of just being next to him.

But you’d never let him know that. You couldn’t.

It probably went against his code. Or even worse, there’s always the chance he doesn’t feel the same. The thought alone makes your heart sink to the pit of your stomach. You quickly shake it off and glance over at Din. His visor is set on the deep space in front of you.

“You’re tired,” He says, his modulated voice breaking the silence.

“No, I most certainly am not,” You jokingly insist, shifting slightly underneath the blanket he had gotten for you just a few minutes ago.

“Sure you aren’t, cyar’ika,” He chuckles softly. He knows he’s right, and you do too. But you don’t want to fall asleep, not now. Not when he’s next to you, teasing you, leading you on. It doesn’t matter if this ends in heartbreak. You just want to be with him, to hear his voice, to feel him near you.

You smirk at him, and you hope he’s smirking back underneath that helmet of his. “I’m fine, really,” You insist, your smirk turning into an appreciative smile. He nods and turns back towards the stars ahead.

You quietly wish he was still looking at you.

And then, he breaks the silence again. “Your back is gonna hurt tomorrow if you fall asleep out here,” He says softly, intently. Your heart drums away rapidly in your chest. “Don’t need you getting more hurt than you already do because of me…” He trails off. There’s a sense of sadness in his voice. “I’m supposed to look out for you.”

You know exactly what he’s talking about. The blaster shot, just a week ago. Your hand finds its way underneath your shirt, rubbing softly at the wrap Din had resecured over the injury earlier this morning while you were still on Tatooine.

“Din,” You whisper, inching to the edge of your chair to be closer to him. “I’m here because I chose to be, because I want to be,” You pause for a second to stop yourself from giving away more than you mean to. “And I’d be getting into trouble no matter what, with or without you,” You joke. It was true. Maybe it wouldn’t be bounty hunting, and it certainly wouldn’t be Jedi stuff like your parents had tried to force you to learn throughout your childhood, but it would’ve been something.

If you were to be completely honest, one thing you’re fully convinced of is that whatever it would be, it would always be with Din, in every universe, every timeline. Something called you to him, clung you to him. The stars, the force, something. Whatever it was, it kept you here.

He turns his helmet towards you and stares in silence for a few seconds. Your heart flutters uncontrollably in your chest at the attention. You could feel heat rising to your cheeks. He takes a hand off the controls and reaches towards you, resting his hand on your own.

“Thank you,” He mutters through his vocoder. He’s rarely ever this open, this vulnerable with you.

“You don’t have to thank me for being honest,” You whisper, practically unintelligibly. Your nerves are getting the best of you. One more move from Din and you’ll melt into a puddle of words you’ll never be able to take back.

He squeezes your hand softly and pulls away. Somehow, your hand has never felt colder than it does in this very moment.

After a few minutes, his voice fills the cockpit once again. “Just don’t fall asleep out here, ‘kay? Take the bunk if you’re tired. You need rest.” Despite the modulator there’s a warmth in his voice. You could swear there’s even a hint of care, possibly even love…

No, You think to yourself. Maybe you should head to the bunk. Maybe you do need space from Din. What are you supposed to do when you can’t hold these stupid feelings back anymore? What are you supposed to do when the inevitable happens, when he delivers that final crushing blow, ‘I don’t feel that way about you, I’m sorry.’ You stare off into the distance. You could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You were doomed from the start. So foolish, so fucking foolish, You think.

“You okay?” Din’s words yank you from your thoughts. He’s staring at you again, and you’re more than positive that there’s a look of concern hidden beneath that visor.

All you can muster is a quiet yes and a subtle nod. Din nods back, but you know he’s not quite buying it. He looks towards the control panel, quickly flicking some lever on. Your eyes are too heavy to pay attention to what he’s actually doing. “I know I’m not as…open as you,” He pauses for a second, debating what to say next, “But if something’s wrong, I’m here. You can talk to me.”

“I know,” You whisper back. And Maker, did you want to.

The cockpit finally succumbs to comfortable silence once again. Despite your endlessly wandering mind, it was even harder to stay awake now. Thinking about all the possibilities and paths was far too overwhelming. It took up more energy than you had. So, just as Din expected, you drift off to sleep, your exhaustion finally taking hold.

He looks over at you, curled up against the co-pilot’s chair, laying on your side, facing him. You had fallen asleep; he knew you would. You always did. Din smirks, you never did listen. He loved that about you, your stubbornness, your independence. He knows you can’t stay like that though, sleeping on that rigid chair, but he doesn’t want to wake you up. You barely sleep enough as it is.

He stands up from the pilot’s chair and walks over towards you, carefully taking your legs under one arm and your upper body under the other. He scoops you up and walks out of the cockpit and towards the one and only bunk on the Crest.

You can feel the cold beskar against your side, your skin slightly exposed as your shirt rides up your stomach. You absent-mindedly nestle into Din’s chest, your eyes slowly fluttering open.

“Din?” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck. Part of you thinks this isn’t real, that you’re dreaming, and you’ll wake up in the co-pilot’s chair alone.

He shushes you softly, his thumb gently rubbing circles into your shoulder. “I’ve got you, cyare.” His voice is calmer than usual, more relaxed. “You fell asleep in the cockpit.” He approaches the bunk, loosening his hold on you ever-so-slightly as he carefully places you down onto the bed. But you don’t let go of him, you want to keep him close.

Once he’s sure you’re secure in the bunk, his hands slide out from under your body and up to where your arms rest around his neck. He doesn’t let go. It isn’t until you feel his fingers brushing against your bare arms that you realize his gloves are off.

Maybe now is the time to test the waters. You can feel the word vomit coming up, burning your metaphorical and emotional esophagus. And Maker, do you wish he’d just lay down with you, sleep next to you. Maybe the risk is worth the reward.

“Would you stay with me?” The words finally leave your lips. You’re shocked at your ability to ask a question like that. You had never shared the bunk before. One of you always slept in the cockpit. “You should rest too,” You say, trying to cover up your true intentions.

Din shifts a bit in his spot, but he still doesn’t let go of you. You can see the gears turning in his head. “Okay,” He decides. You practically gasp with shock, and you embarrassingly do your best to hide it.

He takes his armor off, but not his helmet, like he always does. You’ll never get over how he looks without his chest plate, his broad shoulders, his tan skin. You move further into the bunk, giving Din space to climb in next to you. He shuts the door to the bunk, and only once the tiny space has been encased in darkness does he remove his helmet.

You’re up against one another, face to face, no space in between – not even an inch. You’d never been with him when he didn’t have his helmet on. Your stomach does a backflip at the thought that he feels safe taking it off with you, even if it’s in the darkness.

He hesitantly drags his hand up to your waist, resting it softly just above your hip. “Is this okay, cyare?” You had never heard his voice unmodulated. It’s clearer, unadulterated. Honey, golden, but still somehow rough. You want to replay every word that he says.

You hum a yes into the darkness. You nervously bring your hand up to his neck, waiting briefly for him to protest – but he doesn’t. “What’s that mean, cyare?” You ask, struggling to pronounce the word.

He takes a few seconds before answering your question. You can’t help but think that you’ve pressed too far. “Don’t worry about it,” He says finally. Yep, pressed too far, you think to yourself.

You quickly remove your hand from his neck, immediately realizing that you’ve crossed a million boundaries all within a matter of seconds. “I’m sorry I just-,”

He grabs your hand before you can get too far away from him. “It means beloved,” He says curtly. “And cyar’ika,” He pauses, and you can hear him swallow harshly. “It means sweetheart.”

You try not to overthink his confessions, or translations rather. They could just be meaningless pet names that have absolutely nothing to do with how he feels for you. Why get riled up only to be brought back down?

But then again, there’s no avoiding this forever, and there’s no time like the present.

“Din,” You whisper. You’re not sure you can finish your sentence. You can feel his breath brush against your lips. “I…” You trail off, noticing how much the bunk smells like him, musk and spice and something else you can’t quite place.

“What is it, mesh’la?” He asks.

You laugh anxiously to yourself. “You didn’t tell me what that one means,” You say, trying to stall, to buy time.

“I’ll tell you once you tell me what’s on your mind,” He says coolly, as if none of this is affecting him. He knows what he’s doing.

You take a deep breath. “I think about you Din,” You mumble nervously. “All the time, and I think I-,”

He cuts you off, stealing the words from you, as if he could read your mind. “I love you.”

His lips come crashing down onto yours in the darkness. The kiss isn’t rushed or hurried, but there’s a hunger to it, a feeling you’ve never felt before. Din wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him – if that’s even possible.

You’re almost upset when he comes up for air. It isn’t enough, you need more. You want to be forged to him somehow, irreversibly, and irrevocably sealed to one another.

“I love you,” You say to him, breathing heavily, your heart beating out of your chest.

“I know,” He says back, his lips meeting yours once again.

His hand slips under your shirt, his thumbs dragging against your skin. Heat rushes to your core and you can’t help but let out a soft moan – after all, you and Din are far beyond touch starved.

He pushes himself up and over you so that you’re held down underneath him. Your hands explore his entire body, his waist, his stomach, his abs, until you finally reach his face. You find his lips with the tips of your fingers. Din peppers them with kisses as you glide upwards towards his nose, then the bags under his eyes, his forehead. You wished you could see his face, but for now this would do. This was more than enough. This was more than you could have ever asked for.

“Wanted this for so long, cyare,” Din says between breaths. He burrows his head into your neck, nipping at the exposed skin. “Wanted you this whole time,” He says, his lips pressed against your ear. It sends a shiver down your spine.

His hands move further up your body, pushing under your bra. “Please Din,” You mumble. “Need you.” And that’s all the permission he needs. He pushes your shirt up and over your head, throwing it somewhere in the mess of bunk, along with your bra.

He rolls his thumb over one nipple before moving to the other. “You’re so fucking perfect, so beautiful,” He sighs, pinching your nipple slightly before trailing down towards the waist band of your shorts. He tugs on the fabric and dips his hand inside. He feels the outside of your panties, already soaked through. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already so wet for me mesh’la.”

You squirm underneath him. You need him to touch you, to do something, anything. “Din,” You mutter. “I-,”

Before you can finish your sentence, he’s yanking your shorts and your panties down your legs. He climbs back over you, his hand trailing up your inner thigh before diving into your folds and settling on your clit.

“Wanna make you come, pretty girl,” He whispers against your ear, his fingers making quick work of rubbing your clit. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing. His words alone could send you over the edge.

You shudder under his touch as he quickens his pace. “Feels s’good,” You moan into his mouth as his lips come down onto yours.

“Doing so good for me,” Din murmurs. “Being such a good girl.” You can feel yourself getting closer and closer as Din’s fingers press harder against your clit, circling faster. You throw your head back and moan his name.

Then, out of nowhere, Din’s hand leaves your heat. You need more, you need to feel him. “Please don’t stop,” You beg shamelessly. The covers shuffle as he moves, and you can feel the weight of the mattress sink a bit.

He doesn’t give you much time to grieve the loss of his fingers, his tongue dragging up the inside of your thigh. “Oh fuck,” You whimper as Din’s mouth meets your heat. You can feel his beard softly scratching against your legs. He brings his fingers towards your folds, pushing inside. “S-shit,” You stutter as Din pumps two fingers in and out of you.

His tongue alternates between swirling around your core and sucking roughly against your clit. “You taste so good, so fucking good,” Din’s voice vibrates against you, making it harder to hold on. “Can’t wait to be inside of you.” His fingers pick up their merciless pace, pumping in and out.

“Din, I-I can’t…” You trail off, unable to finish your sentence. You’re on the brink, you can’t hold back any longer.

“I’ve got you, pretty girl,” Din coos. He laps at your folds in between sentences. “Let go for me mesh’la.”

You feel your walls tightening around his fingers as waves of searing hot pleasure wash over you. “Din!” You cry out, his fingers still pushing in and out of your folds, his mouth still sucking softly against you. He slows his pace as you come down from your high before finally pulling away from you.

He pushes himself back on top of you, his forehead coming up to rest against yours. You reach down, your fingertips brushing against his erection.

“Need you inside of me, Din, please,” You beg, jerking him off gently through his pants. Din groans audibly, and you stop for a moment to hook your fingers under his waistband. Din helps you, shoving them and his boxers down his legs and casting them off into the mess that you two had made.

He grabs his cock in his hand, jerking it off a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. You can feel the head of his length as he pushes through your folds and sinks all the way inside you. You can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as he fills you up. He moans your name, and it hangs in the air, reverberates against the walls of the bunk.

“So fucking tight for me,” He groans, pulling himself out of you to pump back in and bottom out. He’s so deep inside of you, hitting the right spot with each thrust. “You feel so good.” You clench around his length at the sound of his voice.

He reaches down, the tips of his fingers once again finding their way to your clit. Din immediately begins rubbing rough circles, just as he did before. He finds his pace, rutting in and out of you rhythmically. It isn’t long until you feel yourself growing closer to your peak.

“Din,” You sigh, barely able to get a word out. “I’m so close.”

“M-me too, pretty girl,” Din stutters, somehow finding a way to pump into you harder and faster. “F-fuck, taking me so well.” He presses harder into your clit, circling around your core. You bring your hands up to his back, digging your nails down into his skin. It was too much. You could feel yourself getting closer with each thrust. You can feel your walls tightening uncontrollably around him. “That’s it, good girl. Come for me.” And you can’t help but give in.

“D-Din!” You practically scream his name, coming undone around him. You throw your head back, seeing sparks and stars as you hit your peak. Din is close behind, his pace growing sloppier as he comes inside you. He slowly thrusts in and out before pulling out.

He takes a deep breath, his forehead coming down to rest on yours.

“You’re so perfect,” He whispers, his breath ghosting your nose. “Shouldn’t have waited so long to do that…” He trails off, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I love you Din,” You say, still out of breath. “I always have. I would’ve waited longer if I had to.”

He kisses you again, even gentler than last time. “I always knew you’d be the death of me,” He chuckles. You can feel his laugh vibrate through his face, through his whole body. No beskar, no hiding. “And I promise, I will always love you, cyar’ika…

“Always.”

Yeah, I saw sparks

Yeah, I saw sparks

And I saw sparks

Yeah, I saw sparks

[someplace-darker]

Kinktober Day 8: Voice Kink | Din Djarin

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader (no y/n)

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warnings: 18+, PWP, voice kink, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, reader is afab but no pronouns are used.

Summary: Din left a message for you before leaving, and you can't help but listen to it over and over and dwell on just how good he sounds.

A/N: and here is the late day 8! I did it, two in one night. We'll see if i can do 9 and 10 tomorrow. I hope you enjoy the second din fic on the kinktober list! There will be more of him.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

You shouldn’t be laying on Din’s cot, two fingers deep in yourself as you pinch your eyes shut and listen to the holo he left for you before leaving on repeat. Din has only been gone for a week now, and yet you can’t seem to get a grasp on your own sexual frustrations long enough for him to come home and take care of it for you. God, sometimes you truly do wonder if he purposely sounds like he’s two seconds away from fucking someone just to throw people off. Keep them on their toes. 

Though you know there’s a slight difference between when he’s normally speaking and how he speaks when he’s so deep inside of you that you’ll feel him for the next few days after. Usually you reserve those sessions for off days so you don’t have to chase a bounty with a wobble in your gait because Din fucked you within an inch of your life the night before. When he’s fucking you his voice is clearer, the helmet and thus the voice modulator taken off and cast to the side so he can whisper the filthiest things you can possibly imagine in your ear, so he can kiss you like he’s never kissed you a day in his life. Like it’s going to be the last time.

But it never is.

“Be good for me while I’m gone, cyare. I’ll be back soon enough.”

You curl your fingers within yourself against the spot you know will make you feel the most, chills prickling against every inch of your skin. You wait until the recording starts over before doing it again consistently, faster now.

“Be good for me-”

The angle at which your wrist is sat hurts now, you’ve been fucking yourself for the past hour, cumming a few times but it’s not enough. Even after all this time, you still keep going. You can’t get enough of it. Your head thrashes to the side, panting into the thin pillow beneath you as you lower your other hand to rub your middle finger around your clit. “I will,” you sigh out like the holo will speak back “I’ll be good.”

“-cyare-”

Your eyebrows pull tight as you speed up, heels digging into the thin mattress (if you could even call it that) to keep your legs from sliding. The deep timber of his voice echoes in your head, reaching each corner of your mind as the twinge in your stomach grows stronger. “Oh fuck,” you whine, rocking your hips down onto your hands “Din.”

“Oh, mesh’la,” his voice is louder, clearer than the recording and you yelp, closing your legs over your hands as your eyes open and glance out of the bunk. Din sits on a crate, leaned forward with his forearms resting on his knees, helmet inclined towards you. Your heart slows just a bit at the sight of him, still fast from the cut off orgasm and scare that he had given you. His visor is trained on you and you truly cannot tell if he’s looking back at your stare or if he’s looking at your clenched thighs. 

“You don’t have to stop,” he speaks, the sound of his voice having even more of an effect here now that he’s in front of you. 

“I didn’t hear you come in,” you respond, slightly embarrassed at being caught fucking yourself to the message he left. Also mortified that you didn’t know he was back until he was already sat down and speaking. How long had he been sitting there?

“You’re not very quiet, cyare,” he muses, a tinge of affection in his voice. God, you missed him. “I haven’t been here long. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Your limbs seem to relax themselves and you pull your hand away from your clit to reach over and turn the holo off. “Just missed you,” you whisper, still eyeing his form to see if he’ll make a move. He seems perfectly content to sit and watch, not making any move to join you on the cot. Din did make it perfectly clear that you could keep going, and you were so close before, you can start where you left off. 

Unclenching your thighs you allow your legs to part once more, baring yourself to the Mandalorian in front of you, a sharp inhale crackling through the vocoder. You return your hand back to where it was, circling your clit and pumping your fingers in and out of your cunt, biting your lip to hold back a moan when Din groans and palms himself through his pants. 

“Talk to me, please,” you plead with him, rocking down onto your fingers as you listen to his groans.

“You look so pretty like this, mesh’la,” Din responds immediately, knowing exactly what you need from him in this moment “did you touch yourself like this everyday I was gone? Listen to that and imagine that I was inside of you?” 

His words and the cool air inside the razor crest wash over you, nipples hardening almost painfully and you resist the urge to grope yourself, too invested in cumming. Din’s hand drags up and under the waistband of his dark pants, gripping his cock in his hand as he watches you get off just from his voice alone. He fists himself at the same pace at which your fingers plunge inside your cunt, imagining the way he’ll fill you after this. 

“Yes, Din,” you gasp, taking his sentence with stride, finding just the right angle that makes your back arch and focusing on it. All you need is a bit more from him.

“Come on, bid jate par ni,” the language slips off his tongue with ease, almost completely exhaled. He pumps his cock faster, growling when the waistband restricts his movement, giving up and pulling himself from the confines of his trousers. 

Din’s voice and sight of his dick hard and weeping at the tip is the final straw, your back arching up as you cum another time that night with a shout, rubbing yourself into overstimulation. He watches you, cock twitching in his hand as he follows after you, cum coating his chest armor in thick ropes until he can’t anymore. You both sit in silence for a few minutes, panting and staring at each other.

Eventually you start laughing, emotions mixed with pleasure coming to a head. Din chuckles with you, tucking himself back into his pants before standing and walking to the edge of the cot. He looks you up and down before reaching a gloved hand out for you to grab. You reach for him as well, allowing him to pull you up. It’s a bit odd to be completely naked in front of him as he’s completely clothed. 

Din leans forward to press his helmet to your forehead and you close your eyes, relishing the moment. You truly did miss him. He pulls away first, gesturing his head to the very small ‘fresher. “Let’s get cleaned up, mesh’la. Then we’ll head to the next planet.”

Grinning, you start helping him undo his armor, glad to have this moment.

[wild-karrde]

I came across a really good Din fic in my for you page. It’s like trope cat nip; mutual pining, forced proximity, one bed, friends to lovers It’s wonderfully written and Din isn’t out of character in it either. It’s called Enkindle by @oscarseyebrow (https://at.tumblr.com/oscarseyebrow/enkindle/yvqskldra4nw)

OOOOOOOOOH this fic is checking a lot of my boxes. TROPE CAT NIP INDEED. I can't explain it, but I've always loved the forced proximity and/or one bed tropes with Din. Can't tell if it's just because he'd be THE MOST awkward (until... you know, he isn't), but I just LOVE fics like this.

I will absolutely have to check this out! Thanks so much for the rec!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[galactic-star-bruiser]

Killer

leave me alone, im on a Phoebe x mandalorian kick.

All Mando's POV. (f!reader)

talk of injuries, but nothing more. 

pining, and fluff

song: killer by Phoebe bridges

.,.,,.,.,,,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,,.,.,.,.,

Sometimes I think I'm a killer

I scared you in your house

I even scared myself by talkin'

About Dahmer on your couch

The way she watched me as I worked, her soft gaze tracing the way I moved over the weapons I was cleaning, the way she would leave clothes around the ship, and the way she listened to even the most gruesome stories I have.

It was somewhere between those times that I fell in love with her.

“Are we going?” She’d ask me excitedly, ready for any adventure. 

I did everything in my power not to give into her. 

She moved as if there was a flame beneath her. Wild, sprinting, flailing, yelling, and laughing.

She was a fighter. Brutal. Vicious. 

But when it was just us.... She was softer than anything I had ever known.

But I can't sleep next to a body

Even harmless in death

Plus, I'm pretty sure I'd miss you

And faking sleep to count your breath

The endless nightmares where she’d wake up screaming and find her self on a different part of the ship than the bunk she slept in, those screams broke me in ways I never knew anything could. 

Her innocence stripped with one heinous, tortured, scream. 

I’d always find her and walk her back to bed, careful not to touch her or linger too long. I knew I'd ask if she wanted me to stay with her if I did... God, did I want to stay with her. Hold her in my arms and protect her from the evils of the galaxy.

The way she gently cleaned my wounds, even be them just grazes to soft flesh, made my heart ache. 

Can the killer in me

Tame the fire in you?

Or is there nothin' left to do for us?

There were nights that I thought nothing would come of the small touches we shared, or the time that had elapsed since we started traveling together. 

The night of the fire.

I had went back to Peli for a repair before a fire broke out in the ship yard. I had never been terrified before this... not of the flames, but of finding her.

We stayed the night in a small, dingy hotel with a smell of mold that hung in the warm air. 

I sat on the end of the single bed with my head in my hands, scared of what was to become of my ship.

Her small hands reached to touch one of my armor clad shoulders, a sign of reassurance that only sent waves of electricity through my body.

I couldn’t help but think of the concern that washed over her face all the way to the hotel, never breaking the stare that she held against me. 

I watched her face as the innkeeper said he only had availability for one bed rooms. She just nodded in compliance. I was expecting a grimace. 

There was nothing in the world I wanted more than to touch her and to hold her against me. I wanted to feel her soft hands on my bare face, telling me everything was going to be alright.

I knew that would never happen for me. I was loyal to the creed even if it broke my heart.

I am sick of the chase

But I'm hungry for blood

And there's nothin' I can do

The only way that I knew to show my devotion and love for her was through protecting her... even if she could do it herself, it felt good to keep her safe. Keep her with me.

As I sat on the bed, she sat next to me, close enough so I could feel the heat radiating from her body.

“Are you hurt?” I asked. 

“No.” She answered too quickly. 

“Youre lying, let me see.”

She seemed too exhausted to fight with me and complied by lifting the back of her shirt over her shoulders and letting me examine the cracked, fire burnt, angry red skin of her back.

“Cyar’ika...”. The word tumbled out of my mouth and I could only hope that she didn’t know its meaning. I felt vulnerable, as if all of my armor had been stripped.

She winced as I spread the blue bacta across her back. It took a few minutes but I could feel the muscles in her back relax under my touch.

“Thank you... Din.” She whispered. The way she said my name made me want to cry.

“You can have the bed... you’re in pain” I said solemnly, making my way to the floor next to her. 

“Would you mind staying with me tonight?”

Her soft whisper wrapped its way around my throat and It made me unable to speak. I just laid beside her.

She traced the lines of my helmet and she was shaking.

“Youre safe now...” I whispered, scared to put my hands on her in fear of hurting her and breaking my own heart. I knew I couldn’t have her... even if I could, how could someone like her look into the eyes of a vicious killer like myself? Someone who constantly put her in danger and couldn't even kiss her?

“I know.” She answered back, making me smile softly even if she couldn’t see it. 

Can the killer in me

Tame the fire in you?

I know there's somethin' waiting for us

I am sick of the chase

But I'm stupid in love

And there's nothin' I can do

And there's nothin' I can do

[beskarandblasters]

Caught in 4k

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Summary: You catch Din watching porn and discover his secret; his breeding kink.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), established relationship, porn, heavy on the breeding kink, daddy kink kinda, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, helmet comes off, pet names, no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

It’s been a long week. You and Din have barely seen each other. That seems impossible given the small confines of the Razor Crest. Your schedules have just been opposite from each other lately. And it’s driving Din insane, in more ways than one.

He misses how you feel when you sleep, your back pressed up against his chest with a protective arm slung around your waist. He misses your conversations in bed, recapping your day to each other, being the person you both come home to at night. 

But he also misses having you underneath him, squirming under his cock. It’s been too long and the urge to cum is getting uncontrollable. 

He doesn’t normally masturbate. Unless you’re right there with him, telling him what to do, whispering in his ear, and making him melt. But this is a special circumstance. It’s been days since he came and he feels like he’s going to burst. When he arrived back at the Crest you were already gone, running your errands. He doesn’t know when you’ll return and the ache in his balls is painful. 

He sits in his bunk, looking at your data-pad at the foot of the cot. He’s watched porn videos before but it was always with you, right before the two of you are about to have sex. If you’re not here to help him out, who’s to say he can’t watch something to give him a bit of inspiration? 

He searches for a video, something to satisfy a certain kink he’s been hiding from you… his breeding kink. 

Maker, he can’t stop thinking about it. You have the implant so you wouldn’t actually get pregnant. But it would be fun to pretend, to talk about knocking you up as he’s balls deep inside you, pumping you full of his cum.

His cock twitches against his flight suit.

Kriff.

Yeah, he needs to cum. Now.

He clicks on the first video under the breeding kink search results and pulls his cock out. But he wants to be extra comfortable. He lets go of his cock and takes off his helmet, setting it on the floor beside the bunk. He spits in his hand and returns to jerking off, watching the holo-vid with wide eyes. It’s a man and a woman. He has her on her back, folded into a mating press, moaning in her ear about how he’s going to breed her, make her his, telling her how pretty she’ll look carrying his children. 

He thinks about you carrying his children and his cock gets even harder. How everyone will know you’re truly his.

“I’m gonna fill you up, baby. You want that? You want daddy to breed you?” the man in the holo-vid says.

“Yes, daddy. Please, I want it so bad,” the woman whines as the man is pounding her.

He thinks about you, shuddering underneath him while he has his way with you. Maker, where are you? This is certainly getting the job done but it could be so much better than this. 

He’s so enthralled in the experience he doesn’t hear the exit ramp lowering. He doesn’t hear your footsteps. He doesn’t hear you set your bags down. 

You lean against the door frame and he still doesn’t notice you. 

“Gonna stuff you full of my cum,” the man moans.

“Yes, daddy. Please. Breed me. Fill me up,” the woman whimpers.

Your eyes widen at those words. 

Breed me. 

You had no idea about this secret little kink of his.

“Din?” you say, ripping him from his bliss.

He startles with a jolt, almost dropping the data-pad. He looks at you with wild eyes, skin slick with sweat all while his hand is still wrapped around his cock. 

“Cyar’ika, when did you get back? I’m sorry you had to see that. I-”

He’s rambling so you cut him off.

“How long?”

“How long what? How long have I been masturbating?”

“How long have you had… this kink?”

“Uhh.”

“You can tell me.”

“A while,” he says, putting his cock away and standing to meet you.

“How long?” you press.

“For a long time! I just never told you about it.”

“Why?”

“I just… I was afraid you would judge me.”

“When would I ever?”

“I don’t know…” he starts, trailing off. But then he realizes… You didn’t explicitly say no. 

“Please, can we try it?” he says, falling to his knees. His are wide, pleading with you.

“I have the implant,” you chuckle, “You’re not getting any babies from me for a long time.”

You run your fingers through his curls and look down at him. It’s just dirty talk. It’s not like you’ll get pregnant. But it’s still funny that you caught him in the act, that you discovered his little secret. 

“Please. It’s all talk, cyar’ika,” he begs.

“Fine. Show me what you’ve been watching.”

He blinks twice in disbelief as you start to get undressed, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it on the floor. He stands and grabs your waist, bringing you close and planting his lips on your neck.

“Really? You mean that?” he moans into your skin.

“I’ll try anything once,” you shrug, “But let me finish getting undressed,” you say with a chuckle.

Reluctantly, he takes his hands off you, letting you get undressed while he does the same, shedding pieces of armor and putting them in a neat stack on the floor. You watch as he strips his flight suit, his cock springing free from the fabric as he kicks off his boots. 

You two stand in front of each other, completely bare and admiring every little detail. It doesn’t take long for his hands to be glued to you, fingertips sinking into your skin, holding you tight as if you’re going to slip away. He directs you to the bunk, gently coaxing you to lie down. He hovers over you, large hands palm your inner thigh, You spread your legs apart and he marvels at how wet your cunt is already. 

“You’re so wet for me already, cyar’ika,” he teases, running two fingers along your entrance. “Bet you want me to pump you full of my warriors.”

Bet you want me to pump you full of my warriors.

Your mind just about short circuits at that. A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine. He brings his fingers to your mouth and like a reflex you open it, knowing what he’s asking for. You suck his fingers, getting them nice and slick for him. You maintain eye contact the whole time, obscenely swirling your tongue around and putting on a show for him. His mouth falls open, watching you suck his fingers like such a good girl until he can’t help himself anymore. He needs to feel you coming around his fingers now. 

He takes his fingers back to your cunt, thrusting both of them inside you slowly. Your breath hitches at the sudden girth inside you. His other hand grips your chin as he lowers his face to hover above yours, looking into your eyes deeply. 

“You can take it,” he reminds you, curling his fingers against your g-spot.

He lets go of your chin and lowers himself in between your thighs. He watches the wetness seep from you, running down his fingers and onto his hand. He goes for your clit, mouth latching around the sensitive spot and sucking for dear life. This man is aching to make you cum like his life depends on it. 

Your back arches up off the bunk, the tension in your core breaking loose. Your cunt clenches his fingers and he hungers for that feeling around his cock. He continues to pump his fingers in and out of you throughout your release, mouth never leaving your clit. It borders on overstimulation until he’s finally done satiating himself, getting drunk off your scent and taste. 

When he looks up at you his chin is dripping. He swipes the wetness away with his thumb and pops it in his mouth, moaning at the taste. Always such a slut for you and only you.

“You taste so good, cyar’ika… so sweet,” he moans, swiping two fingers up your cunt one more time for a final taste. 

He rests on the back of his heels as he strokes his cock, collecting more of your wetness to lubricate himself. He looks down at you, lips curled into a smirk as he tells you the filthiest things. 

“Gonna stuff you with cum, mesh’la,” he says, hovering over you and aligning his cock with your entrance. Just before he thrusts into you he adds, “But not until you beg for it.”

You go to respond but you’re cut off with a moan, his cock entering you and splitting you apart.

“Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl and beg for me to breed you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, voice high-pitched and filled with arousal. 

He draws his hips back and slams into you, hands resting by either side of your head. The look on his face is one of pure lust, fueled by a primal instinct.

“What are you waiting for? Beg.”

“I want you to breed me,” you beg, eyes wide and pleading with him. He thrusts into you over and over again, an unforgiving pace as he makes your cunt his. 

“Not good enough.”

“I need you to breed me,” you whine, voice incessant and needy. 

“Tell me how bad you need it.”

“So bad,” you whine, “More than anything.” You reach your hand up to his hair and entangle your fingers in his locks, tugging on them as he rails you. 

A deep and guttural moan escapes his throat like you just unlocked something inside him. His thrusts grow faster and harder. Your second orgasm is nearing, core muscles tensing up in anticipation again. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over. 

“I’m gonna-” he starts, cutting himself off.

“Please. I need it. Fill me up,” you beg, just as you finally cum. The sensation of your orgasm draws his own from him. At long last, you’re filled with his spend, cock pumping in and out of you, sending it even deeper inside you. 

He’s delirious at this point, moaning over and over. 

“Mmm gonna pump you full of my warriors.”

“You’ll be so pretty carrying them, mesh’la.”

“And everyone will know you’re mine.”

With one final rut of his hips, he’s done, pulling out of you and lying beside you on the bunk. It’s silent between you two as you catch your breath, the small bunk only filled with the sound of labored pants. 

“So… About that implant.”

You grab the pillow and playfully smack him with it, laughing as he puts his arms up in defense. 

“Don’t push your luck!”

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Too Sweet

A/N: Hi friends. I haven't written anything in a while, as I've been tussling with my mental health and raging SAD from the weather near me. Please accept this Mandalorian drabble? Rambling? Takes place between the end of season two and Din's appearance in the Book of Boba Fett. Tags: The Mandalorian, Mandalorian x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader, Mandalorian x F!Reader, Apostate!Din WARNINGS: None Summary: You've been a safe place for Din Djarin for years. He comes to you at his most vulnerable, but always has to leave before you're ready. Title inspired by the Hozier song of the same name.

Word count: 1.6k+

Hours later, you’re still in shock.

Din Djarin is in bed next to you, sans helmet.

It wasn’t unusual for him to be in your home- hell, it would be more unusual for him not to be there between jobs. Your Mandalorian had spent years visiting, hovering somewhere in between a lover and a partner. He shows up in the afternoon one day, and is gone early in the morning before you wake. When he returns, beaten and bruised, you chastise him for leaving without saying goodbye. The routine was comfortable. Familiar. 

Except every other time he had been there, you had never seen his face. 

It feels like a dance each time he comes. You tend to his wounds quickly but gently, lathering cuts and bruises in bacta before wrapping bandages or slings where necessary to let the medication heal. Once you’ve played nurse, Din secludes himself to your study to eat dinner. And each time, without fail, he leads you to the bedroom to extinguish the fireplace and blow out your candles. His hands find your body, and he ravishes you in the darkness. 

Key word being darkness.

Today was the same song and dance. He’d limped into your cabin without greeting, shaking snow from his armored body and settling himself into a kitchen chair while you fussed. A tube of bacta and half a roll of bandages later, he silently trudged away to eat in the study. There was a distinct lack of little green child with him today, which was a major concern after the past year. You suspected it had something to do with the oppressive sense of sorrow following him through the house. So you carried on with your usual routine, asking little to no questions. It wasn’t until he’d crowded you up against the sink, bowl still in your grip as you rinsed it, that he spoke. 

“Mesh’la.”

Strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, and you leaned back into an unarmored chest. In hindsight, you chastised yourself for not noticing the words lacked the electrical buzz of a vocoder. 

“Din.” You returned.

He only grunts, right hand gliding up your side. It grips your shoulder, and presses until you turn to face him, bowl still gripped in your damp fingers. 

“You know, words are- Din!”

The porcelain bowl shattered as it collided with the kitchen floor. You’d dropped it out of pure instinct, hands flying up to cover your eyes. As much as you’d tried to forget what you saw, it was burned into your brain. Wavy hair, long nose with a scar crossing the bridge of it. Big, brown eyes that couldn’t possibly belong to someone so stern and ruthless. It flashes across your mind, and you almost tear up at the thought of Din breaking his Creed after all these years. 

But he’d pulled your hands away and explained - while your eyes are still pinched closed- that he was an apostate. The Child was returned to his own people, but at the cost of Din’s Creed. It had taken minutes of coaxing and reassurance, but you’d opened your eyes and cursed the universe for being so cruel as to hide such a face. From the set of his brow to the nervous biting of his lip, you basked in seeing so much bare skin. It took less time for him to attach his lips to yours and lead you out of the kitchen.

He’d taken you to bed, and now here you sit. 

Your room isn’t anything special. Quaint and cozy if nothing else, with two small windows that face out over the mountain’s edge. A fireplace flickers opposite the bed, its warmth trickling out to the sheets and heating your toes. Two bookshelves border either side of your headboard, with a nightstand tucked on Din’s side of the bed. On it, the usually extinguished candles burn bright. 

The firelight flickers against Din’s tan skin, highlighting each bead of sweat and curled tendril of hair where it sticks to his forehead. He’s naked, back propped against the headboard and covered in a maroon sheet from the waist down. You’ve donned a short silk robe, black and bordered with laces where it plunges between your breasts. You lay between his legs above the sheets, head on his chest. One of his large hands caresses your scalp and trails to the ends of your hair. The other hand is occupied by a half-full glass of old Corellian whiskey. 

You trace a line of yellow bruises on his hip where they extend below the sheet on his lap. 

“What happened to you?”

His chest rumbles. “I fought an Imperial Moff. And Imperial battle droids.”

Your eyes widen, and you sit up. Din’s hand leaves your hair to grasp at your waist, pulling you to face him.

“Stars, Din.” You reach out to touch a patch of black and blue skin over his collarbone. “No wonder you’re so beat up. I’ll get you some more bacta before we go to sleep.”

He lifts your fingers from his collarbone to his mouth, kissing each fingertip. “You’re too good to me, cyar’ika.”

“You deserve it.” Is your instant reply. 

If there was anything you knew about Din, it was that he never quite comprehended the good he brought to the world. 

The Mandalorian brings the whiskey to his lips and takes a swig. You opt to push an errant curl behind his ear. 

“I’m not a good man,” Your name falls off his tongue like honey. “Spent my whole life as kyramud.” 

You tilt your head at the Mando’a. He’d called you some pet names for years- mesh’la, cyar’ika. But this… kyramud was new. Without his helmet, hearing anything out of his mouth was like a drug. But Mando’a warmed you to the core, building off Din’s comfort and fondness when he spoke the ancient tongue. You yearned to know more. 

“Teach me Mando’a.” You kiss him gently, tasting the whiskey where it lingers on his lips. “So I can tell you why you deserve every bit of kindness.”

Din adjusts your legs so you’re sitting square between his, rear end on the bed and legs straddling his waist. He props you up with the ridiculous amount of pillows lying around. 

“I’ll teach you anything you want.” Din strokes your knee. “Where do I start?”

You chew on your bottom lip. “What am I to you?”

“Ner cyare.” He pauses, debating. The whiskey makes another appearance, and you’re distracted by his Adam's apple bobbing deliciously in the column of his throat. “Naysol uj par ni. Each day I see you is aay’han.”

“What does that mean?”

Din tilts your chin up. “My beloved. Too sweet for me.”

You blush. “What about the end? Ay-hen?”

“Aay’han. Mourning and joy. At the same time.” He finishes the whiskey. “I mourn when I leave you here.”

Much to your annoyance, tears prick your eyes at the reminder that when you closed them, he would be gone before you woke. “Don’t remind me. Please.”

Din leans forward to capture your lips with his. The sensation only serves to make the stinging behind your eyes worse, and a single tear drips down your cheek. He’s quick to kiss it away, large hand curling into your hair. You climb all the way into his lap, suddenly desperate for closeness. His skin is hot and damp, and you’ve never felt anything better. 

“Ni ceta. I never meant to hurt you.”

You sniffle against his neck. “Just promise me you’ll say goodbye from now on.”

He wets two fingers with his tongue and extinguishes the candles before cradling you in strong arms. Two words are murmured into your hair, quiet but sound.  

“I promise.”

You grip him tighter than ever, warmth sadly fading as the dread of morning envelopes you. 

*

The reflection of daylight off snow-covered ground wakes you. 

It bounces in your windows, bathing the room in cool white light. You blink slowly, a heaviness settled on all of your limbs. It’s a familiar soreness that aches from your shoulders to between your legs, dredging up memories of the night before. Din’s bare face, and all the sweet words in Mando’a that he tried to teach you before you remembered he can never stay as long as you’d like. You sigh, letting one of your arms dangle off the edge of the bed. The thought of turning over and seeing the candles, thinking about him blowing them out on each visit was too fresh. It’s easier to lay and stew in your sadness, watching fluffy flakes of snow fall. The clock on your wall reads ‘1457’, another unintentional reminder of your late-night escapades.

You hate to admit that the feeling makes you tear up again. So you lay in bed, curled beneath a thick comforter while the fireplace crackles its last few breaths towards your feet. It’s easier to stare at the snow than it is to close your eyes and think about Din. 

“Damn it.” You breathe. 

“What are you damning?”

You swear that you stop breathing for a moment. Despite the fact that he had already spoken, you ask aloud, “Din?”

The sounds of bare feet padding across the floor nears, and the Mandalorian appears in your vision. Barefoot and clad only in a pair of loose gray lounge pants that tighten at his ankles. His abdomen is without cover, displaying an array of healing bruises and deep scars. You sit up, letting your feet hang off the bed. 

“You’re still here?” You look at the clock again. “At 1500?”

Din smiles, kneeling in front of you. He presses a mug of steaming Caf into your hands and a kiss to your forehead. 

“If it’s alright with you… I might be for a while.”

It’s your turn to smile as he smoothes away your bedhead. 

“No arguments.” You sip at the warm mug. “I’ll keep taking my Caf in bed, though.”

___________________________________________________

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[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika

Dark!Din Djarin x Jedi!Female Reader

Warnings: corruption arc, murder, death of minor character (i don't wanna spoil it but I wanna make sure no one is caught off guard. it's axe woves), possessive behavior, loss and anxiety, light smut, mentions of being intimate

Word Count: 7,842

Summary: Din Djarin is a man who lost everything. His home, his son, his Creed. But at the end of the day, he still had you. He still had you, and he was determined to keep you.

[a/n: if dark fics aren't your forte, don't worry this isn't super dark. well, not as dark as i originally planned to go. more psychological horror than physical]

.

"i denied death for you. and i'd die for you again. kill for you. i'd tear the stars down from the heavens to fashion you a crown. you are my heart. my queen. i'd do anything and everything you ask me."

-Jay Kristoff

.

Looking back, you had no chance of not falling in love with Din Djarin. Even despite having plenty of reasons not to. You were on the run from the Empire, trying to keep a padawan safe from them. He was hired to collect said padawan as a bounty. He was a Mandalorian. You were a Jedi. Needless to say, the odds had been stacked against you both, but falling for him was the simplest thing in all the worlds.

You had a lot of reason not to, sure, but you also had no chance in avoiding it. Not with the way he put you and Grogu above everything else⏤ even himself. Not with the way he balanced trusting you to hold your own in a fight versus protecting you when you were overwhelmed. Not with the way his hand would softly brush against you as if he wanted so badly to touch you but thought himself unworthy. Not with the way his hoarse voice whispered your name in the softest concern and care.

Never before had you put any belief in the concept of soulmates, it seemed silly, but after meeting Din you weren’t so sure. The two of you seemed made to fit one another. Complement. Make the other stronger, better. The way you both understood one another, the care and love that came so easily… It was as if you loved him in another life. Like the two of you were destined to find one another in every lifetime. Made of the same stardust and shaped by the galaxy itself.

You loved Din Djarin. You loved him so damn much, and it made watching him crumble that much harder.

“Din.” You mumbled. Boba had swooped back to pick the lot of you up after the successful rescue mission. Though calling it successful seemed…bittersweet. Grogu was safe, but Grogu was gone. You wandered closer to where Din sat in a chair. He had isolated himself the moment you all boarded the ship. He was slumped over, elbows on his knees, and head hanging down. You knelt down by his side and squeezed his arm. “Hey. I wanted to check on you.” Din nodded, but stayed silent. His helmet stayed facing down, away from you, and it broke your heart to see him so devastated. “Tell me what you need, baby. I can stay or I can give you some space.”

Again, Din did not respond, but he turned his arm just enough to grasp you by the hand. You gave it a slight squeeze and just stayed there. For the rest of the flight neither of you moved. You knew Din felt like he couldn't complain. Grogu was safe with Skywalker, set to train and harness his gifts. Softly, you reassured him that whatever he was feeling was alright. He stayed silent.

Boba and Fennec’s goal was to reach Tatooine so you and Din tagged along. It wasn’t far. You all got there in a matter of hours and when you parted ways, Boba encouraged you or Din to call him if anything was ever needed. It didn’t take long for you to get a room at an inn. 

That night in bed you held Din close. The room had been darkened so even if you did open your eyes all you could see was his silhouette. He loved you with soft touches and thankful whispers, and when the both of you were spent and exhausted Din collapsed into you. Typically, he liked being the big spoon. Din loved wrapping his body around yours, all encompassing, as if he needed to protect you even in sleep. However, tonight, Din clung to your side⏤ an arm draped over your waist as he laid his head on your bare chest. You held him close, raking a hand through his hair tenderly.

The room was filled with quiet breaths, and when Din spoke his voice was so hushed that you nearly missed it.

“Don’t leave me, cyar'ika.” He seemed to beg. “I can’t lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You said firmly. Holding onto him tighter. You continued to whisper promises of staying by his side long after he fell asleep.

Din wanted to find the covert. That was what he told you he needed. You had no qualms with that. You wanted to do whatever you had to in order to help him find some semblance of normal. Coruscant was not one of your favorite places in the galaxy, but you’d walk through hell as long as Din was by your side. As you followed him, his eyes tracking signs and clues you couldn’t see, your own gaze continued to drift to the saber hanging from Din’s belt. His newest acquisition.

Ages ago, when it had been time to build your own lightsaber, the kyber crystal you chose had really chosen you. Everybody had certain strengths, even within the Force, and yours was reading energies. Your kyber crystal seemed to sing to you. The energy it gave was warmth. It was protective. It was loyal. Building your lightsaber had been a time honored tradition you treasured. Having it hang from your hip was something you did not take lightly. It gave you strength.

The energy coming from the darksaber felt…wrong. It was hard to put into words. It was muted to you, as if trying to hide, but still the darksaber seemed to weep a negative energy into the air itself. You didn’t like it, but you had no significant reasoning why other than ‘it feels bad’.

When the two of you reached the covert, Din was adamant about you coming in with him. Even when you told him you thought it was a bad idea, he still tangled his hand in yours and dragged you in. Just as you thought the other two Mandalorians there were unhappy with seeing you. In part because of the lightsaber on your hip, but more so because you were not their kind. You were not Mandalorian. Auretii. That’s what the Armorer called you. An outsider. It wasn’t inaccurate. 

The interaction started bad and only got worse.

Paz Vizsla challenged Din for the darksaber, a man you knew that Din considered to be a brother even despite rough disagreements in the past, and watching Din use the saber sent a chill down your spine. It was too heavy in his hands, and with every swing the blade was more difficult for Din to use. You could see it in his stride. You didn’t know how to explain it⏤ it was always difficult to explain the way an energy felt to you⏤ but the saber was fighting. It was annoyed.

Din won the battle.

“Din Djarin, have you ever removed your helmet?” The silence that followed the question broke your heart. “Have you ever removed your helmet?” You felt useless watching Din endure this pain. It was the same watching Skywalker carry Grogu away. You were a witness to his suffering. “By Creed, you must vow.”

“I have.”

“Then, you are a Mandalorian no more.”

The walk back into the depths of Coruscant was silent and painful. You slipped your hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I’m here. I’m not leaving. You will not lose me. Din returned the squeeze, but the pain was radiating off him in palpable waves. A feeling washed over you and your eyes darted to Din’s hip where the saber rested. Smug. It felt smug. 

The two of you walked into the covert as Mandalorian and Jedi, but left as Apostate and Aruetti.

You had the opinion that Din never got to properly mourn the loss of the Razor Crest. With everything going on at the time, it seemed like the least of the problems you both had. However, it's loss was felt now. Even in the short time you spent with Din and Grogu, the ship had become a place of comfort. For Din, the Crest had been all he had for so long⏤ it was his home. It held all his belongings and in a singular second it was all gone.

That aching wound was constantly festering, but when the two of you were forced to ride in public ships to get from world to world you could tell it stung Din the most. That’s how you’d have to get off Coruscant, but a small victory came in the form of a message from Peli. 

“Din, you’re not gonna believe this.” You grinned as he returned from whatever errand he had to do. “Peli has a possible Razor Crest replacement. She just messaged me. If we can just get to⏤”

“No.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but Din took you by the hand and began to travel the opposite way of the small inn you were staying in. “What?”

“I found a ship. Here. Already purchased it.”

Surprise washed over you. “Wait.” You tried to get him to stop and look at you, but Din seemed like a man on a mission. “You bought it already? Without even asking me?”

“It was my credits.”

The words stung. It was so dismissive. Nothing like the way Din usually spoke to you. He always discussed big decisions with you, just as you did with him. The two of you were a team. Through and through. Din seemed to sense your displeasure and his steps faltered.

“Cyar'ika, ni ceta.” Din murmured. You recognized the apology. He turned and settled a hand on the side of your face. “I…I don’t know what came over me. I suppose I was just excited.”

“It’s…” You lifted a hand to cup the one tenderly caressing your cheek. Din had just lost his Creed. The cornerstone of his existence. Of course, he’d be short. You’d be more worried if he wasn’t showing signs of being upset. You gave him a tight lipped smile. “No, I’m sorry. Are you alright? How do you feel?” Din didn’t respond. “Baby?”

He shook his head, his voice quiet. “I’m just ready to be off world.”

“I understand.” You gave him a smile. “Show us our new home then.”

Din let out a small chuckle and you took that as a victory. He led you to a yard of ships and pointed out a black ship with burgundy accents. It was nothing special. It wasn’t the Razor Crest. However, it had enough space for the both of you.

“This is nice.” You explored the cargo hold. 

“It’ll do.” Din countered.

You jumped when you heard the ramp closing and as Din passed you to get to the cockpit, he set his hand on your lower back to take you with him. As you settled in the passenger seat, you watched as Din familiarized himself with the control panel. When the ship reached the atmosphere, you leaned forward.

“Hey, maybe we should go see Peli anyways. Say hello.” You suggested. “She can look the ship over and tell us if we need anything…” Peli would just rip you off, but she was a familiar face. Boba and Fennec were on Tatooine as well. You thought Din could use more than just you. A reminder that he had more in his life than he thought. “Din?”

“No.” Din replied. He placed in a set of coordinates and you recognized them to be Nevarro. Well, maybe that would work. Karga was there. Cara too. Last you heard, Mayfeld was kicking around the newest establishment. The ship slipped into hyperspace and Din held a hand out to you. When you took it he yanked you toward him and you fell onto his lap. “We’re needed in Nevarro. Karga.”

He said it as if the name was enough. Before you could ask for further clarification, Din was tossing his gloves aside. He hit a button that shaded the windows, dimming the room till it was nearly impossible to see then he whispered to close your eyes. It was natural for you to do just as he asked. His hands grasped at your hips, pulling you down to grind against your core, and a pair of lips began to leave open mouth kisses along your neck.

“Cyar'ika…” Din breathed as he wrestled your shirt off you. Rough and desperate. Yanking your breast band off with it. The moment you were bare to the chilly air of the cockpit, Din’s hot mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, teeth grazing sensitive skin, and you moaned. Din pulled away and you already missed his mouth. “Need you. Need all of you.”

Din loved you with rough hands and frantic begging. When the two of you were spent, breathless and sweaty, you slumped against his body. Din trailed his hands up and down your spine as if he couldn’t fathom not touching you.

“I can’t lose you.” He murmured in your ear. “Not you, cyar'ika.”

“You won’t.” You reassured him. “You won’t lose me.”

The reason Din stopped in Nevarro, stopped to see Karga, was for bounty pucks. You had never seen him take so many at once and he said less than ten words to the High Magistrate of Nevarro before dragging you back to the ship. 

A distraction. You convinced yourself. It was just a distraction. 

Din needed something to keep his mind busy and what better than bounty hunting? As long as you were there to keep an eye on him, make sure he’s cared for, then everything would be alright. It might take time, but it would be okay. That’s what you told yourself. Over and over and over. You wondered if the reassurance was more for your benefit. 

The first couple of bounties went normal, but slowly things began to feel…different. Wrong. The quarries Din brought in were more often cold than warm these days. He seemed to be favoring the darksaber as well. It had gone from a weapon used as a last resort to one of his regulars. Din got better with the weapon after every quarry, and the saber’s energy felt like it was singing. As wrong as it all felt, Din seemed himself still. In fact, he almost seemed closer to his normal self. The aching sadness and mourning wasn’t so present. 

“Din?” You called out from where you sat at the small table. Rather than staying on the new ship, the two of you had rented a room at a local inn. It put you closer to where the current quarry was hiding. “You in the mood for something specific? For dinner, I mean?” Din had stepped into the bathroom to clean up and still had yet to come out. “Baby?”

Concern began to take root, but the door opened and you felt it slip away only to be replaced by shock. A stranger in familiar armor stood in the doorway. Din. Din was helmetless. You quickly shut your eyes with a curse. Heavy footfalls crossed the room to stand in front of you and you felt Din’s warm hands on your cheeks.

“Cyar'ika, look at me.”

“Din, what are you doing?” You gasped. It had been nearly two months since the covert, but even then he kept his helmet on. Never took it off. You didn’t understand what had suddenly changed now so suddenly. “I⏤”

“I want you to see me.”

“But⏤ But, why now?”

Din’s thumbs were tracing your cheek and he wouldn’t answer your question. He murmured again for you to open your eyes and you hesitantly peeked through your lashes. Din stood towering above you. From where you sat, you had to look up to admire his features. His appearance was never important to you. You fell in love with the soul inside that armor. Din always swore you’d see his face one day, but the context would be different. He’d whisper about a future together as you both laid tangled in bed. 

He was handsome. Strong features, pretty dark brown eyes, scruff along his jaw. And his hair, you were finally able to see the dark slightly loose curls that you’d run your fingers through. You slowly stood and lifted a hand to trace his features.

“Am… Am I okay?” Din asked. 

The phrasing of the question was odd and it took you a moment to garner a guess. You cupped his face with a broad smile. “You’re more than okay. You’re perfect. Maker, it’s kind of not fair how handsome you are.” You kept your tone teasing and Din chuckled. The sight of his smile warmed your chest. “What brought this on?”

“I am an Apostate.” Din said firmly and you felt your own smile falter. His dark brown eyes stayed locked onto yours and though they held the depth and soul you always knew they would there was something else there. “I am no longer Mandalorian. Why should I hide my face any longer?”

“Din…” You mumbled. Concern leaking into your voice. This was quite the huge and sudden leap to make. “You⏤”

He leaned in and pressed a light kiss against your lips. The kiss turned deeper as Din began to devour you. Needy and wanting. Desperate. Soon he had you picked up into his arms so he could slam you against the wall. It always felt like Din craved you⏤ that wasn’t in debate. Right now though, he was like a man starved. As if he had never had never had you before and was worried he’d never have you again.

Din loved you like a man possessed. Pressed between him and the wall he was unrelenting. Still, held tight by the man you were in love with, Din moaned and begged for you to stay with him. He didn’t even pause to let you reassure him. Just praised the way you felt and pleaded for you to be his. 

There was something wrong with Din.

As you sat in the dingy alley, panting heavily from your near death experience, that was the first thought to occur to you. A hunt had gone wrong. One of the quarry’s allies had gotten the jump on you. You had taken a few hits, saw an opening to save yourself, but before you even had a chance the goon was being ripped off of you. Din had saved you, but it didn’t feel like being saved from where you sat.

Din had ripped the man off you and rather than use the darksaber he chose to beat the goon bloody with his hands. Blood splattered in the alley, on his otherwise spotless armor, and you found yourself trembling. The man who had been attacking you was long dead, but Din did not stop. His face was twisted in rage and hate. You called out his name, more than once, and eventually he paused in his onslaught to catch his breath. His chest was heaving from exertion and you could tear your eyes away from the red that stained his silver beskar.

Slowly, Din rose and stalked toward you. For a brief moment, you didn’t recognize Din. You didn’t know the stranger towering over you. He knelt down and reached out to cup the side of your face. The hot blood of the man Din had slaughtered smeared across your cheek. You could feel it and it sent a chill of fear down your spine. The hate began to dissipate from his eyes. There was a softness you recognized now, but for the first time you’d describe Din as hollow.

“Are you okay, cyar'ika?” He breathed. You nodded nervously. Din grabbed you by the arms and pulled you to stand. He let out a sigh of relief and wrapped you into a tight hug. He pressed you against his blood stained armor and laid his head on top of yours. Din shook his head, a shaky breath slipping from his lips, “I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you. No one will take you from me. I swear it, cyar'ika.” 

Relief and love radiated from Din, but all you could feel was the humming possessive energy that the darksaber blasted into the air around you both.

The sensation of dropping out of hyperspace woke you up. You blinked and reached out to a cold bed. Din had gotten up and was now dropping you out of hyperspace? You pushed up and slid out of bed. You found Din in the cockpit and the sight of an unfamiliar world hung in view just outside the ship. 

“Where are we?”

“Mandalore.”

You sat down in the passenger seat and grabbed Din by the knee forcing him to set the ship to drift and turn to face you. “What the kriff do you mean Mandalore?” Din didn’t respond. He leaned back in his seat and just stared at you. You were still trying to get used to seeing him without his helmet. Din rarely wore it these days. Even in a fight. “Din.”

“We’re meeting allies here.”

“For what?!”

“We’re recovering our home.”

Din was answering the questions as if you were being ridiculous for even asking them. As if you had been privy to this knowledge. Frustration made your temper flare. “Din, are you serious!?” He didn’t react and somehow that was worse. “We need to talk.”

“Then talk.”

Things had only gotten worse with Din. You were scared of what he was capable, but never in relation to you. No matter how cold his eyes grew, no matter how lost in got in a brutal fight, no matter how bitter the darksaber made the air, you knew Din wouldn’t hurt you. That knowledge was ingrained in your very soul. What worried you⏤ what kept you awake at night⏤ was your worry for Din. He always said he couldn’t lose you, but it felt like you were the one losing him.

“Baby.” You murmured and rose to take a seat in his lap innocently. Just trying to get closer to him. You cupped his face and at your contact the cold, distant look in his eyes briefly cracked. Din stared up at you in adoration and love. “I’m… I’m scared.”

Din furrowed his brow and sat up. His arms wrapped around your waist. “Don’t be. You never have to be scared. I’m never going to let anything hurt you.”

“No, Din, that’s not what I’m scared of.” You replied. “I’m scared for you. I’m worried about you.”

“I’ve never been better, cyar’ika.”

You raked a hand through his hair trying to convey every ounce of passion you felt for him in the simple motion. “Din… I’ve been wanting to say this for some time.” You shook your head. “The darksaber.” There was a flash of something unrecognizable in his gaze, but you pressed onward. “It’s… dangerous. You know when I told you about my lightsaber. It’s energy.” He nodded. “The darksaber gives off an energy too, and I don’t like it.”

“What do you mean?” Din asked.

“It feels like,” You winced and struggled for a description to match, “poison. Din, baby, it feels like poison.” Din shook his head as if he still could not understand what it was you were trying to say. “I think it’s a bad influence.”

Din scoffed but the curl of his lips made it seem like he wasn’t taking your statement seriously. “Cyar’ika, it’s a sword. It can’t influence me.”

“It’s not just a sword, Din. It has a kyber crystal in it and⏤”

“Are you trying to tell me I need to get rid of it?” He pressed. You gave a small nod. “I can’t. I need it.” You opened your mouth to argue, but his arms tightened around you. “If we’re going to take Mandalore back, recover it, then I have to use the darksaber. Be Mandalor.”

Your eyes widened. “Since when did you want that title??”

“But more importantly, I need it to protect you.” He whispered, ignoring your question entirely. Din leaned his forehead against yours and the touch was so soft and reverent that you shuddered. He took in a slow deep breath. “You are my priority. Always. The darksaber grants me the power to keep you safe.”

You pressed a tender kiss to his lips and Din’s breath hitched. As you spoke, you kept your lips close enough to brush against his with every word. “You never needed it before. And I’m not helpless. You know that.” Din closed his eyes and you dragged your fingers through his scruff. “We were fine without the darksaber. We don’t need it.”

Din leaned in to capture your lips with his. For the first time in a very long time, the kiss was slow and patient. He took his time tasting you and he leaned back to allow your hands to travel and explore him. It was so reminiscent of the days before everything fell apart that you almost cried.

Eventually, he pulled back and focused his heavy gaze on you. Din gave you a small smile, a hand tracing your jawline. “No, cyar’ika. The saber stays.” Your own smile faltered and fell. He left one last chaste kiss on your lips. “I love you. I will protect you.”

Your life on Mandalore was odd. Din left you out of the loop of everything. All you knew was that more and more Mandalorians arrived by the day to follow Din Djarin. It didn’t surprise you. The Din you knew and loved was a natural born leader whether he liked it or not. He had a magnetic draw to him. You didn’t see that side to your Din very much anymore. 

The city around you was slowly being rebuilt and you pondered your next move. Two months you had been on this rock seeing Din from a distance. Watching him turn into someone you didn’t recognize. When the palace was reestablished, a sentence you found obnoxious and ridiculous, Din moved you there to stay. He’d work all day, drift into your shared bedroom at night, and you mourned the days where everything was easier. Simple.

“Cyar’ika.”

You glanced over your shoulder to see the Mandalor approaching. The king of this world looked like Din, still stared at you as if you hung the moon and stars, but all you could see was the darksaber. It’s possessive energy clung to the man you loved. Two Mandalorian guards followed behind him, and you briefly admired the thick, fur lined cape that hung off one shoulder.

Din came to a stop in front of you and motioned to himself with a sheepish smile, “What do you think?”

“Very regal, Mandalor.” You teased softly.

Din drifted closer and took your hands in his. “Ni ceta, cyar’ika.” He mumbled. “I know I haven’t been around.”

“You’ve been busy. I get it.” You shrugged and tried to keep the bitterness out of your voice.

“But you come first. You always come first.” Din said firmly. “Things will be better from here on out. We’re stable. We’re established. And… I have a surprise for you.” Nervously, Din lifted your hands to tenderly press a kiss to them. “I have no right to ask, but will you give me your time today.”

It was so sweet. It was so Din. You were too overwhelmed to do anything but nod. Things could always turn around, you told yourself. All your time here, distanced from Din, you had planned. He needed a little exposure to his old life. You were the only person Din kept. Maybe seeing Boba and Fennec, seeing Peli, seeing Karga, seeing anyone would bring him back to the surface more permanently. You had even wanted to get in touch with Skywalker or Ahsoka to plan some kind of visit. If Din could see Grogu, you had no doubt he’d snap back into reality. He’d set aside the darksaber. The issue was, Mandalore still had thick storm clouds that prevented any outside interference or messaging. 

You felt isolated.

Din looped your arm through his and you walked by his side down the long hallway. You weren’t sure where he was taking you quite yet, but he spoke casually about his day and asked about yours with real interest. His smile was so warm and sincere that you could almost ignore the negative energy that damned saber gave off.

“Where are we going?” You asked as Din turned down a hall you knew would lead outside. “If we go out, I’m gonna need to grab my jacket.” Mandalore’s seasons still confused you and it almost seemed like the previous attacks had thrown the natural order out of balance. Lately, it had been rather cold.

“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you.” Din chuckled. He paused by the doors and you couldn’t help but glance at the two silent Mandalorian guards still standing near. Movement made you glance back in time to see he had shrugged out of his thick robe. Din settled the heavy article on your shoulders and you were surprised by the warmth it encased you in. “Comfortable?”

You nodded with a small smile. The robe smelled like him. Din captured your face in his gloved hands and you gazed up at him in awe. Din was in a good mood. It had been so long since you saw him like this. Light hearted. Excited. “Are you happy?” The question fell from your lips before you could even think.

“Of course.” Din replied quickly. His tone suggested he was surprised you’d ask. “I have you.”

“You’ve always had me.” You mumbled.

Din’s face faltered, only for a second, before he bowed his head to rest on yours. Forehead to forehead. “Ni ceta.” He breathed the apology out sincerely. “I know things have been hard and…you’ve put up with so much. I’m so thankful for you, cyar’ika, and my greatest regret will always be making you question that.”

“I never questioned it.” You lifted a hand to place on top of his own. “I love you, and I know you love me. I’ve just…been worried about you, baby. I want you to be happy.”

“I am.” Din replied. “You make me happy.” He closed the space to press his lips to yours. Tender. Loving. Passionate. Din’s tongue traced the curve of your lower lip and you allowed him to deepen the kiss. Your hands shifted to tangle in his hair. Din pulled you closer, flush against his body, and it didn’t even matter to you that two other Mandalorians stood off to the side as witness to this scene. Din pulled back, separating the two of you, but he quickly set two more chaste kisses against your lips as if he couldn't bear the thought of being apart. Din whispered a promise under his breath. “For the rest of my life, I will make you happy. I’ll keep you safe.”

You had endured the hell of watching Din suffer and begin to lose himself in sorrow. Perhaps, this was the light at the end of the tunnel. Din had found stable ground, and he was now returning to a man you recognized.

Din turned away to push open the doors, but he kept your arm looped through his. The courtyard which typically sat unused and in a semi state of shambles had been cleaned and polished. Mandalorians as far as you could see stood waiting and as Din walked you down the path you spotted a medium sized platform, nearly a stage, and on it was a chair⏤ no, a throne. That was the only word to describe the heavy, dark metal seat. Standing on the platform, you recognized Bo Katan. She stood on one side of the throne. On the other side stood two others that you recognized, you had seen them with Din often, but you didn’t know their names.

“Din?” You whispered his name.

He shot you a smile but continued on. Suddenly, you found yourself on the platform standing beside Din as he faced the crowd. He lifted one hand, as if in greeting, and you stared at him as he spoke Mando’a. His voice was loud and firm. Powerful. This was a king among men. You never thought Din Djarin of all people would look like he belonged in this setting. You knew he had the attributes that would make a fair and just king, but Din had never enjoyed the spotlight. The future he craved, the future he painted while speaking to you in the dead of night, was a humble one. A home, some land, a family. Peaceful.

A bark of Mando’a, in a voice you vaguely recognized, interrupted Din and you watched as his shoulders stiffened. The crowd parted and a Mandalorin in dark blue armor approached. Axe Woves. That was his name you believed. You didn’t know what he was saying, but you could feel the tension in the air.

Din set his hand on your waist and pushed you back. You only stumbled back a few steps before Bo Katan took you by the elbow and dragged you back further.

“What⏤ What is going on?” You asked.

“Challenge.” Bo Katan said. Din drew the darksaber from his belt and as it came to life you felt your own heart plummet. It’s poison was spewing in the air⏤ suffocating you. Smug. Arrogant. Angry. Insulted. You sucked in a sharp breath. “Axe Woves has challenged Din for the darksaber. For rule.”

The fight started in a clash of weaponry. 

It was a blur of beskar, but all your eyes could focus on was the arc of the darksaber. The burning glow that was now seared into your eyes. Seared into your brain. You wanted nothing more than to take that damned thing and throw it into the darkest pit you could find. Every time you watched Din used it, you hated it all the more. The fight did not last long.

Axe Woves was a good fighter, but he was not Din Djarin.

Soon, the air was silent as Din held the edge of the darksaber just under Axe’s jaw. Close enough that the man had to have felt the heat. Axe was breathing hard, but you couldn’t see his face⏤ his back was to you. Din stood where you could see his face and he looked to be the picture of calm. 

“Cetar.” Din demanded. Bo Katan whispered, her eyes not leaving the scene, as she translated the Mando’a. ‘Kneel’. Din asked him to kneel. You felt a chill run up your spine and it wasn’t from the cold air. The darksaber was singing. Excited. Eager. It craved and craved and craved. Din repeated the command. “Cetar.”

“Nayc.” Axe replied. You didn’t need that word translated. 

At the sound of his refusal, you watched a flash of an emotion you didn’t immediately recognize in Din’s eyes. However, it was clear to see the way his lips briefly curled up into a smirk. You opened your mouth to scream, but all your words caught in your throat. Thick, heavy, and unwilling to be heard. Before you could overcome your hindrance, Din shoved the darksaber through Axe’s chest with not even a singular hiccup of hesitation. Your mouth hung open in shock and disbelief, but the horror didn’t land until Din leaned in and used his vibroblade to slice through the man’s neck in one swift motion. Blood sprayed out and the darksaber was screaming in pleasure.

“He had to make an example.” Bo Katan whispered. “It’s unfortunate, but Woves brought this upon himself.”

Din deactivated the saber and set it back onto his belt. While Axe Woves’ body slumped to the ground, Din tucked the still bloody vibroblade back into his boot’s holster. You stared at him wide eyed and horrified as Din marched back to the platform. He spoke before the crowd again, but it felt like your ears were ringing. The man you fell in love with would never have cut a man down in cold blood. The duel had been over. It didn’t have to end with blood. 

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Din as he crossed the platform to sit on the throne. His legs were spread out in dominance as he lounged in the seat radiating confidence and pride. His eyes snapped to yours and Din held his hand out to you. Bo Katan gave you a small nudge and you stumbled toward the throne with hesitant steps. Din’s cold features melted away as he stared up at you as he always did, loving, but it only made the splattering of blood on his face that much more daunting. 

When you placed your hand in his, your fingers were trembling. Din squeezed your hand in comfort and he carefully pulled you back so you sat in his seat. Bo Katan was addressing the crowd and you stared and stared at Axe Woves’ dead body. Still laying on the courtyard’s ground, the pool of blood around him growing larger and larger.

You felt Din’s breath on your neck. His hands settled on your hips as he sat up to press his chest against your back. His breath was replaced with his lips. Din mumbled about how much he loved you and how important you were to him against your skin. All this time, all the hope you had, was for naught. The man at your back was a stranger.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Din pressed another hot kiss to the back of your neck. "But I just wanted to show you our new throne, my queen. Surprise."

As it turned out, the light at the end of the tunnel had turned out to be just more hellfire.

In the dead of night, you ran. 

You had hoped Din would return to his senses, become the man he once was, on his own accord. You hoped he had only needed time, but this had been proof. You were out of your depth. Din needed more than just time, he needed more than just you. As soon as you got past the thick, stormy atmosphere on Mandalore, you’d call for help. 

The plan had been to take Din’s ship. It was the only one you were familiar with the controls enough to not have to worry about running into any issues. As it turned out, flying was not going to be the biggest problem you faced.

“Cyar’ika.”

Your blood ran cold. Slowly, nervously, you turned around to see Din stood not far away. His shoulders were slumped in disappointment, and the look in his eyes could only be described as absolute and total devastation. He took one step forward and you took one back. Din’s jaw locked.

“Din…”

“What are you doing?” Din murmured. 

You shook your head. “Listen to me⏤”

“Listen??” Din scoffed. He took in a shuddering breath. “How could you⏤ Cyar’ika, I… Why?”

His voice cracked and you felt your heart ache in your chest. Din took another step toward you and you held a hand up which brought him to a sudden halt. You pressed your lips together then tried to explain that you were doing this for him. “Din, you’re not…you’re not yourself. You need help.”

“I need you.” Din replied firmly. “Everything is fine.”

“You murdered a man in cold blood today.”

“Is that what you⏤ You truly think so little of me?” Din asked. “It was a duel, cyar’ika. A challenge on my rule. I had no choice.”

You took a step toward him. “Din, you slaughtered him. And you enjoyed it.”

Din’s eyes darkened and the energy that slammed into you was possessive. For so long, you assumed that was how the darksaber felt. However, seeing the way he stared at you now, you realized the possession went much further than how the saber felt for him. He stormed forward and on pure instinct your hand drew your lightsaber without activating it. A warning. His steps stuttered. You didn’t know it was possible to visually see a person’s heart break, but you were witness to it right now.

“Cyar’ika,” Din whispered, “I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”

That was true for the man you fell in love with. 

Was it still true?

“I…I…” You struggled to find your words.

Din held his hands out, palms up, in surrender. He took slow steps toward you as if you were a skittish animal he was trying to calm. The tenderness in Din’s gaze cracked your resolve. He reached out and let his hands slowly drag down your arms until they reached your hands. You felt your body tremble. It was easy to make the decision to run when you stared at Din’s features covered in blood, but now? His warm, brown eyes reminded you of every soft touch and tender word of love. 

“Just come back with me.” Din whispered. “Talk to me, cyar’ika. I know…I know things haven’t been right.” He squeezed your hands and pushed the one holding the lightsaber back to your hip. “Let me fix this. Let me make this right. Give me a chance.”

Din leaned forward to set his forehead against yours. A familiar motion that brought you comfort. You let out a soft sigh. One more night. You could spend it talking with Din, gauging a better plan, and it wasn’t like you would be able to leave right now anyways. Not with him right in front of you like this. The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just going to let you walk away and the absolute last thing you wanted to do was fight him. 

“Please?” Din pleased.

“Okay.” You murmured. 

The bright smile of relief that crossed his face made your heart flutter. Din pulled you into a tight hug and he clung to you like a lifeline. This would be alright. This would be okay. You’d make sure of it. Din slipped his hand into yours and carefully tugged you alongside him. The entire walk back to your bedroom was silent. Din’s thumb traced patterns against your skin.

“I love you.” Din said the moment you were back in your shared room together. His words came out as a desperate ache. “I’m sorry…”

“No, Din, I…I love you. I will always love you.” You replied. “I was leaving to help you.” Din’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I just think you’ve lost sight of your path.” You pressed your lips together then settled your hands on his chest. “I think we should leave Mandalore. Not forever, just⏤ I think we should visit Boba or Karga. Peli? Or… Or maybe we can reach out to Skywalker. Try to visit Grogu.”

Din’s eyes widened at the suggestion. 

He wrapped his hands around your wrists then lifted your hands so he could press a soft kiss against one palm then the other. Din nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow. I’ll be better, cyar’ika.” You gave him a small smile and he leaned in to crash his lips against yours. The way his lips moved against yours made you feel like he was trying to physically beg you to stay with him. Din had never been a man of many words, he’d whisper kind sentiments, but he always showed how much he cared by action. “I love you.” Din’s mouth dropped to your neck as his hands began to tear at your clothes. “You are everything to me.”

 Your hands reached out to unlatch Din’s armor. It was muscle memory for you. How many times had you done this exact same action in the dark during your time with him? Too many to count. His besker fell to the ground and the second he was bare of any armor, Din scooped you up and carried you to bed.

In the morning everything would be okay.

You’d make it so.

A familiar hand caressing the side of your face is what you woke to. You forced your eyes open, groggy, to find that Din was sitting on the side of the bed leaning over you. He wore his armor once more. Din leaned down and pressed a feather light kiss to your forehead.

“Ni ceta, cyar’ika.”

“Din?” You questioned.

“I want you to know that everything I do is because I love you.” Din said. “I’ve lost everything, but you.” He cradled the side of your face. “Even this, accepting the title and responsibility of Mandalor, I did with you in mind.”

There was a tone in his voice that was making you nervous. Slowly, you sat up and shook your head, “Din, I never asked you to do that.”

“I know.” He replied. “But this is how I protect you.”

“Din⏤”

“There is nothing in this galaxy that will harm you while I’m around.” Din said firmly. He stood up off the bed and gave you a tight nod. “I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you. This won’t last forever, I swear it. But I can’t leave anything to chance. Not when you mean so much to me.”

Din began to walk toward the bedroom door to leave and you stared at him in confusion. Quickly, before he could leave, you threw the blankets off your body and jumped out of bed. There was a heaviness around your left ankle, a coldness, and with every movement came a rattling. You glanced down to see a shiny, silver chain locked around your ankle. It trailed to the wall beside your bed.

“Din.” You breathed. He stopped but said nothing. “Din?” He turned around with sad eyes. Panicked, you began to rush toward him, but a few feet away from him the chain caught your ankle and you nearly fell to the floor. Warm hands caught you by the arms and pulled your back to your feet. Teary eyed, you shook your head. “What have you done?”

“It’s temporary.” Din repeated himself. “Just until I know you won’t hurt yourself by leaving.”

“Hurt myself⏤ Din, I⏤”

“Cyar’ika, I'm doing this for you. To protect you.” Din gave you a tight lipped smile of regret. “Or until I can make you understand.” Din leaned his forehead against yours. The soft action you loved ruined by his words. “You are mine, cyar’ika. You are mine, and I am yours.” That look of possession was in his eyes again. “And because you are mine, I have to take care of you. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.”

Din was beginning to step back so you quickly cupped his face between your hands. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be. As softly as you could manage, trying to bite back the fear and panic in your voice, you mumbled. “Din, baby, you’re losing yourself. I love you, but you’re losing yourself and it’s breaking my heart. Let me go. Let me help you.”

He turned his head and gently kissed the inside of your palm.

“Maybe I am.” Din murmured. “But if that’s the cost of keeping you, then it’s one I will happily pay.”

Din left without another word and you crumpled to the ground in tears. You mourned for the man you lost and cursed the man who took his place.

mando'a translations

ni ceta: i'm sorry cyar'ika: darling, sweetheart cetar: kneel nayc: no

[inklore]

home is where you're mine

premise: in nevarro you and din can finally breathe and spend your days christening every surface of your home.

pairing: din djarin x (f)reader

word count: 911

warnings: eighteen+ content, established relationship, riding, unprotected p in v, tiny little taste of possessive!din, domestic life, public-ish encounter, 'etyc' means dirty, 'mesh’la' means beautiful.

note: did i have an absolute panic attack over actually writing in the mando world instead of doing an au? yeah yeah i did, but thanks to my bbys @psychedelic-ink and @pedrito-friskito i got over it and wrote this filth <3.

The skin on Din’s neck feels as hot as your body does. The sun, having gone down hours ago, did little to cool the warm air—the humidity that’s clinging to your body and making sweat gather at your brow and run down your spine as your breath heaves your chest with your ministrations. 

There’s an ache in the heel of your foot that you ignore. That does not deserve a second thought, maneuvering around, or changing of position when this one feels too good. 

When Din is letting you take control, letting your fingers move to the only skin visible and hold onto it like a lifeline. Like you’d float away from the building pleasure if you didn’t have something, some kind of contact that wasn’t his gloved hand bunching up your dress at the top of your ass so he can grip and pull you down onto his length. The only helping hand he’s giving.

Since the two of you had made—what you hoped was—a permanent home in Nevarro. Until another bounty called Din away, now giving you a place to safely wait for his return. A cabin big enough for the three of you. A space that wasn’t covered in scrap metal and piles of weapons or debris. 

You know, in truth, that you’d live under any conditions if it kept Din on your side. The child on your hip or by your feet. 

But this place felt special. Like the three of you could finally take a deep breath and let your guard down for half a second without feeling remorseful over it. 

The porch had quickly become Din’s favorite spot to relax. To put his feet up and watch the sky, the terrain—Grogu, as he basked in the daylight and played with his food. 

Which is where you found him tonight after the child had drifted to sleep and the two of you were alone. The planet seemingly quiet when it knew the two of you needed it. When you leaned against the doorway and Din held out his hand to you. Pulling you into his lap. A calming silence shared between the two of you as you took in the stars. 

A moment that seemed too good to pass up. To not continue to take advantage of the space you had been given to have Din inside of you. 

No need to sneak around or find a darkened corner. 

It’s as if the two of you needed to break in every surface within the new space. Home. 

Your cheek pressed into the wall, a counter, a table. Your fingers leaving indents in the fabrics of seats, beds, and blankets. It was only right that you carry on that same streak in Din’s favorite spot. 

“Should we-” he began, the shake of your head cutting him off as your hips rocked against him. As he grew the more your sweet whimpers fell, and your fingers danced along the beskar of his chest plate. “Etyc,” his gloved hand coming down to tap at your ass, making you grin.

It didn’t take long for you to free his cock and position him at your entrance. To get yourself this close from the motion of your hips, the angle making the fabrics of his pants rub against your clit with each gyrate. Each time he bucked up into you just a little harder than the last. 

You let out a gasp when the warmth of his glove covers one of your breasts. His fingers pull down the—now—flimsy fabric from your shoulder to reveal it to him. To rub his thumb over your nipple in circles that make your moans grow in octaves. 

“Mesh’la,” Din groans. 

If this were in the darkness of your room, your roles would be reversed. Your vision cut off from him while he saw you in full. Running his mouth along your body. His teeth nipping at your breast until your body was pushing against him for more, to be filled by him. 

And if you asked him to take you to your bed right now, he would. Happily. He’d draw out your orgasm by making you fuck his tongue, pulling away when you were at that precipice only to shove his cock inside your trembling walls. Repeating the actions until you’re begging him to let you come. 

You have many nights for history to repeat itself, though. 

Right now, you’re so close, and the way Din’s hips are moving in tandem with your own lets you know he is too. That neither of you could move even if you truly wanted to because your pleasure is too much. Coming to that crescendo that makes you see a galaxy behind your eyelids when you can feel him twitch against your clenching walls from reaching your climax together. 

The gloved hand at your breast trails up the column of your neck, gripping your chin to bring your forehead to the warmth of his helmet before splaying the palm over your mouth. “The sounds you make when you come are just for me.” He grunts, your hips moving in unison one, two, three more times before you’re both coming. Your moans fall into his hand. Caught and absorbed by the fabric as your body clenches and trembles against him. The deep bravado of the groan he tries to bite back shakes your chest as you lay against him. “Mine,” mixed into the jumble of words he spews breathlessly. 

[mellowswriting]

did you miss me?

pairing || Din Djarin x f!reader 

word count || 4.2k

summary || Din proves just how much he missed you while he was away. 

content || pure poetic smut, rough but loving sex? is that a thing?, blowjobs, deepthroating, face fucking, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms Din is pussy whipped and painfully in love, thorough aftercare, dorks in love

a/n || not me coming back from my mini hiatus with pure smut 🤠 no one is surprised, right? 

It’s been too long since Din has felt your lips against his skin. By too long, he means just a little over a week. Call him dramatic but he’s certain it’s a miracle he survived without you at all. He wasn’t meant to be gone for so long. He’s far too used to waking up and falling asleep next to you, teasingly smacking your ass as you walk by, dragging you close and fucking you against whatever surface is available. Din can feel your absence tugging at his skin, pulling him taut and tense. He’s grown… attached. More attached than he imagined himself capable of, in fact.

So when Fett came to him for help, Din was less than enthusiastic to leave the little world of calm you created together. It took a bit more cajoling than usual. It will take two days at most. We can compensate you. Then you can take your pretty little lover out somewhere nice. Din rolled his eyes at the light teasing from his fellow Mandalorian, but he couldn’t deny the prospect sounded like… fun. Something he hadn’t sought out in a very long time. So Din looped you in on the plan, fucked you nice and thorough, and very begrudgingly left you in his bed to help his friend.

Two days quickly became a week. He really should have known that this would happen but Din is a man of his word. He stays and fights by his friends’ sides, and undeniably wins the entire ordeal for them. The celebration afterward would have been tempting if he didn’t know exactly what was waiting for him back home. Fett didn’t even bother trying to convince him to hang around; he just tossed Din a bag of credits and a knowing grin, which Din pointedly ignored. He took a quick shower before he headed off, all too aware that he wouldn’t be wasting a second once he has you in his arms again.

Din sees you before you see him. He half expects you to startle when he wraps his arms around you from behind - an elbow to the ribs, a kick to his shin, something. But you just lean back into his chest with a surprised but happy sound, the blaster you were stripping abandoned on the counter. Your hands rub down his forearms until you reach his hands and deftly tug his gloves off, carefully setting them aside before lacing your fingers with his. Ease trickles down his spine as he takes in the feeling of your skin against his. Din never realized just how much he needed this. He’s so starved for affection that he feels like he just might die without yours. It doesn’t help that you’re just so… you. Soft against his scarred hands, firm against his stubbornness, so understanding of his inexperience.

“Did you miss me?” There’s a thread of humor in your tone that sends a flare of want burning through his body. He wants to sink his teeth into your shoulder, a small punishment for your teasing, but his hands are too busy to reach up and take off his helmet.

“Of course,” He says instead, the modulator in his helmet doing nothing to hide the raspiness of his voice.

You turn in his arms and Din is graced with your beautiful smile. A thread of concern laces through him as he takes in the tension that lingers in your body and the exhaustion-induced darkness under your eyes. You never sleep well without him. It must have been a late morning for you; you’re still wearing the tiny shorts and old shirt you love to sleep in. He catches a glimpse of the peak of your nipples through the thin material of your shirt just before your chest presses against his beskar. “Yeah? How much?”

“Help me out of my armor and I’ll show you.” That’s all it takes to encourage you to lift his helmet off.

Din drags you in for a blinding kiss the moment the helmet is out of his way. It’s a far cry from the first time he pressed his lips to yours. There is a confidence that surges through him - it ignites his need for you into something palpable and ferocious. Unrelenting. He digs his fingers into your thighs as he hauls you up into his arms and blindly stumbles his way into the small bedroom. Your bright laughter fills the air as he drops you on the bed and for a fleeting moment, genuine fondness soars over his lust, mixing into one devastating need. The two of you eagerly strip away each other’s layers, armor and clothes falling into a pile on the floor.

“Come on, get the fuck - get off.” You grumble under your breath as you finally unclasp his pants enough to strip him out of them. Din’s chuckle dies in his throat at the feeling of your fingers around his aching cock. Fuck, it feels so good it almost hurts - but that doesn’t stop him from greedily chasing more. His hand wraps around yours and guides it along his length in long, tight strokes, and the intensity of finally feeling your touch has his eyes fluttering closed. You huff a quiet laugh at his antics but don’t hesitate to give him even more - little kisses peppered along his belly and gentle caresses to his sensitive inner thighs. He’s so lost in the weight of your worship that he doesn’t even notice when you slip to your knees in front of him.

Din jerks in surprise at the warm, wet slide of your tongue along the head of his cock. A guttural sound rips through his chest as his fiery gaze meets yours, his jaw slack, lips parted as the heat of your mouth slowly envelopes him. His hand falls away as you work him further, instead coming to rest on the crown of your head. He doesn’t pull your hair or try to push; he just rests his hand there, gently caressing your hair as you roll your tongue in practiced swirls. Every inch you take further sends him reeling, pulls out those desperate little sounds he knows you love. Pride swells in his chest as your nose brushes the short, curly hair at the base of his cock. It isn’t easy; Din isn’t exactly a small man, in any sense of the word, but you still work him until your jaw aches and drool drips down your chin.

“Fuck… you’re so good,” Din’s voice is gruffer than usual, all deep and gravelly, and it does something to you. He watches with rapt attention as you go all soft and pliant for him, a muffled whine vibrating against his cock. His hips jerk unbiddenly at the feeling and an apology is poised to fall from his lips - but you just whine again. “Oh, is that what you want? You want me to fuck your pretty little face?”

You nod as best you can and Din has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check. It ignites something almost animalistic in him when these moments align so perfectly; his need to be in control rises to meet your need to be taken, and the two of you become one. Din’s wide palm settles at the back of your head to steady you against the slow, steady pace of his thrusts. His free hand grabs one of yours and laces your fingers together, and the familiar unspoken agreement passes between you.

Squeeze my hand if you want me to stop.

The muscle in his jaw jumps at the sight you make. Unshed tears shine in your eyes as you gaze up at him, your lips stretched around the thickness of his cock. His fingers drift across your cheekbone and the steady pace he’s built falters as you instinctually lean into the familiar touch. Din’s heartbeat stutters. It's so simple, the absolute trust you show him. Even as your throat flutters around the almost too-big stretch of his cock, your eyes glimmer with so much love that Din nearly drowns in the overwhelming wave of intimacy. His stomach tightens, his stamina dashed in the wake of your beauty. It's enough to force him to pull you away. He can’t finish now, not like this. Not until he has you laid out beneath him, trembling and sweat-slick under his nimble fingers. He has been fantasizing about it for days, the idea taking the front stage of his mind and consuming all of his attention.

“Fuck, wait…” Din grits out through clenched teeth. His blunt fingernails dig into the thick muscle of his thigh as he tries to drag himself away from that edge. You just smile up at him, all too aware of the effect you have on him, and Din can’t help himself. He guides you up with a hand on the back of your neck and kisses you fiercely, completely unbothered by the taste of himself lingering on your tongue. He grumbles against your lips, “You’re too good at that.”

You don’t have long to preen under his praise. Din has the body of a hard-working man; he’s thick, all well-built muscle and startlingly fast reflexes as if he was handcrafted by the highest divinity. He’s powerful. And he has no issue in using that power to manhandle you onto the bed. Din kneels on the bed and uses his broad stature to his advantage, your thighs forced to part as he braces them against his own. The opportunities feel endless with you lying so close, so exposed beneath him. Din aches to worship every inch of your body. He wants to tease you with his tongue and fingers until you beg him, until his name falls from your lips, all sugared and desperate and ethereal.

Din hums a pleased sound as he finally lets his touch gravitate between your thighs. You’re so warm, so slick. “I haven't even touched you and you're so wet…”

“Yeah, well,” You chuckle breathily. “I missed you, too.”

That whispered confession makes his heart lurch. He has to sink his teeth into the delicate, already sore flesh inside his cheek to rein in the instinct that rears its head; that old animalistic instinct that screams at him to bend you over and fuck you, raw and unrelenting until he has his fill. He knows he’ll give in to it soon, but first… first he needs to show you the devotion you deserve. A shudder wracks through your body at the insistent exploration of his fingertips as they delve deeper into your pussy, teasing at your entrance before sliding up to brush against your clit. He’s entranced by the petal-soft feeling of your skin; so soft, so warm. He could stay like this for hours.

But then your breathing goes unsteady and you grind against his hand in a feeble attempt for more. “Please, Din.”

The fragile hold on his self control snaps.

Two fingers sink into your pussy and Din moans at the feeling of your wet heat tightening, trying to draw him even deeper as if he isn’t already buried knuckle deep. His other hand braces against the pillowy flesh of your inner thigh to keep your legs spread wide. He isn’t letting you hide from him, not tonight. Those two fingers curl up, driven by muscle memory and an overwhelming need to make you see stars, and he’s rewarded with your cries of pleasure. His fingers are thick and calloused from years of hard work, and he knows just how to use them to make you scream.

Din works your pussy in eager strokes, easing his fingers out of you only to introduce a third on his way back in. He watches with bated breath as you devolve into a whimpering, writhing mess. The sheets are your only anchor against the onslaught of pleasure. Your fingers twist the expensive fabric so tight that your nails threaten to tear right through it, but you can’t help it - not when his thumb is rubbing precise circles over your clit until you see stars. Your hips roll and a strangled whimper falls from your lips, and Din can feel it. He can feel the intensity that radiates from you the closer he draws you to a devastating orgasm.

You’re just so easy for him to read. Every hitch in your breath, every jerk of your hips, every rhythmic pulse of your walls. The siren song of your body is impossible to resist. You whisper his name, lovesick and aching, and Din knows you’re close. Some small, cruel part of him wants to leave you right there on the precipice with euphoria hanging just outside of your reach. The bigger part of him, though? It won’t rest until you break for him.

“Let go,” Din rasps, leaning closer to kiss your thigh. The roughness of his stubble makes you jerk in surprise. He can’t take his eyes off of your face, too enraptured by the sight of you falling apart just from his touch. “Fuck, you look… you’re so beautiful, cyare.”

The praise sends you trembling. You manage to meet his eyes for a mere second before you throw your head back into the plush pillows, a broken cry choking through the clench of your teeth as you rock your hips down into his touch. Din lets you take and take without hesitation until you finally shatter. The violent arch of your spine forces Din upright to give you the space you need, his hand still working you through your orgasm in steadily slowing strokes.

“Fuck, that - you… so good, you did so good for me.” Din trips over his words in his haste to praise you but it still affects you all the same. You give him that love-drunk smile as he presses closer to hover over you, his broad form caging you in against the bed. He knows you’re still lost in the bliss of it all but he just can’t help himself from dragging his lips along your jaw and neck, leaving sloppy kisses and teasing bites in his wake. It has been days since he had the chance to properly shave and the rough feeling of his stubble against your skin makes you squirm and laugh brightly. “You have no idea how - fuck…”

He can’t even find the words to tell you just how much he needed this, how much he needed you, but he doesn’t need them. You whisper ‘I know,” before kissing him, your tongue teasing his soft lower lip, and Din whines. A sound of pure need and adoration. He crowds closer to deepen the kiss and he can’t help the small canting of his hips as his neglected cock nudges your thigh. It isn’t easy to ignore the ache that has been building but he wants to give you time to really come down and recover - he is an excellent lover, after all. But he isn’t the only one who has been impatiently awaiting this moment.

The shock of your fingers wrapping around his cock has Din breaking the kiss with a rough gasp, those dark brown eyes widening as they lock with yours. He can see his own lust mirrored in them as you guide him closer and line him up, too impatient to wait for him to move of his own volition. You’re breathtaking in your need for him. It never fails to stroke his ego, to make him feel like the most desirable man in the world. An unspoken question passes between you, one you answer with your thighs wrapping around his waist, and Din’s willpower to ignore his urges vanishes.

Din sinks into your wet heat, doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt and the head of his cock nudges your cervix. He usually pauses there, just to give you time to adjust to the obscene stretch, but the animal instinct that burns between you is too much to ignore. His blunt nails bite into the soft flesh of your hips as he pins you beneath him, keeping you still and unable to escape the sharp, fast shove of his hips - as if you would dream of trying. The entire bed shudders and jerks under the weight of Din’s strength.

It doesn’t take long for Din’s large hand to find its way to your throat, his forefinger and thumb digging into the hinges of your jaw. He doesn’t restrict your breathing; Din just wants to keep your eyes on him as he fucks you brainless. Your lips part with a small gasp and an awed, pleasure-struck smile blooms across your face, and warmth unfurls through Din’s body at the sight you make. So beautiful, so intoxicated by his touch. He can’t deny you when your chin tilts, your wordless request for a kiss met by a soft brush of his lips. Such a soft, gentle thing should seem out of place in the deliciously harsh treatment of your body, but it doesn’t. It feels so right that his chest aches with it.

Din’s nose brushes yours as he hitches your hips higher and suddenly your back arches, his name cried out right against his lips. He drinks in the sounds of your ecstasy, the very nectar of the gods he needs to go on. The slight shift in angle only deepens as he damn near presses your body in half, your knees pressed back into your chest. The sharp shift makes you feel even tighter, especially as your pussy throbs deliciously around his cock. You whimper a broken sound because you know just how fucked you are. The position isn’t easy for either of you to hold but it just hurts so damn good, a perfect pinch of pain against endless waves of pleasure that makes you gush around him. Din doesn’t fuck you like this until the very end, when you’re both eager for release and clawing for that last little bit to throw you over the edge.

The earnest press of his thumb against your clit sends you reeling, the sensitivity almost too much to handle, but you both know he won’t rest until he hears you scream his name again. It’s sharp and electric, and Din knows just how to play your body until you break. Your hips jerk away on instinct before surging forward once more, driven by greed and pure, unadulterated pleasure. A whisper of ‘just like that’ is all the encouragement he needs to work through the burn in his thighs and keep his sharp pace, his violent thrusts shoving you further up the bed. It’s so fucking worth it just to feel your pussy tighten around him so hard you nearly force his cock out. Your thighs tremble and your hand flies up to press against his chest as you choke out a vague warning, your words nearly unintelligible as the surge of your orgasm gushes from you to wet his thighs and belly.  

The feeling makes his rough pace stutter in shock and Din growls your name, fascination and lust burning hot in his tone as realization washes over him. It’s the only thought playing on a loop in his mind - he made you fucking squirt. He’s always wanted to see it, to feel the wetness of your cum on his skin. Delight and pride sing in his veins as he falls into a sloppy pace of short, rough strokes. Your slick drips along his thighs in little rivulets down to soak into the sheets and Din finally breaks. He doesn’t pull out - some filthy part of him wants to see his cum mixed with yours, dripping from your fucked out hole just so he can shove it back in with his fingers. He wants you marked as his, just as you have marked him as yours.

“Was that…” Din asks, his dry throat making his voice even rougher. “Did I really make you…”

“You did,” You answer his half-finished question with a breathy chuckle - as if you haven’t just rocked his entire fucking world.

You welcome the heavy weight of his body sinking into yours. Even with the ache in your thighs and back from his rough manipulation of your body, you let your legs shift back down to his waist and stroke the soft curls at the back of his head. Din kisses the valley between your breasts, a small offering of appreciation as he buries his face in your chest. The exhaustion of the last days - hell, of the last hours - vies to take over. Din lies in the embrace of your arms and your cunt, your overstimulated walls pulsing around his softening cock, and he finally feels at peace. At home, safe in the bed you share. But the urge to care for you is much stronger than the urge for sleep.

Din carefully untangles your body from his. Your disgruntled little groan is shushed with promises of a quick return and a fleeting kiss to your forehead. He has his own little ritual for those moments after he’s fucked you senseless. Water, a soft robe, maybe a snack or two, and a small cloth soaked in warm water. He catches a glimpse of the little smile on his face in the bathroom mirror as he wrings the excess water into the sink. It all feels so… right. For once, he isn’t searching for somewhere, for someone. He feels lucky. Din takes his armful of goods and that little smile of his back to you - and he nearly drops it all at the sight of you.

You are glowing in the aftermath. A light sheen of sweat illuminates your body in the low light, shows off the curves of your body as you lie prone in the expensive sheets he bought just for you. The crook of your elbow hides your face from view, but he already knows the blissful expression that is tucked away there. It is seared into his memory, one of his most beloved memories. Every ounce of tension has left your being; you’re loose and relaxed without a care in the universe. Elegant and beautiful with the evidence of his presence drying on your thighs, darkening the curve of your hips in the shape of his fingers. You are a goddess in your own right and Din knows he will spend every moment of his life worshiping at the altar of your body. He revels in that knowledge, takes the utmost peace in it.

Life may be chaotic and uncertain, but this… this is eternal.

In these quiet moments, he knows you crave his touch more than anything. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, skin on skin as he eases you through the submissive haze. Din settles close to you, propped up on his elbow, and sets about taking care of his lover. You wince just slightly as he passes the cloth along your sore cunt. Murmured apologies are met with dismissive hums. No words need to be said for your message to get across. I loved it. Don’t apologize for giving me what I want. Still, he pays close attention to the marks he left on your body. The soft floral scent of your favorite lotion lingers in the air long after he’s finished using it to ease the knots in your muscles.

Din loves taking his time with his aftercare. Once he has you cleaned up and rehydrated, he snuggles in close and lets his hands wander. His fingers trace nonsensical patterns into your plush thighs, over your belly, and up your sides. You shiver as his fingertips trail over your ribs and shoot him a warning look that he knows all too well. His sweet little woman, so sensitive to his touch. He does know better than to tickle you, so he instead slips his fingers beneath your jaw and tilts you up into a soft kiss. While he has you enraptured by his lips, his hand falls to your chest, cupping your breast in his large hand and groping you shamelessly. It's so silly that you pull away with a playfully incredulous laugh and Din can’t help but smile, one eyebrow raised as he takes in how beautiful you look.

“I really did miss you, you know.” You say as you reach up to brush his hair away from his forehead. Din sighs and captures your hand in his, drawing it up to his lips to kiss each of your fingertips, your knuckles, even your palm.

“I love you.” The words fall from his lips without thought. It startles him, his own candor. The vulnerability of it. But just as anxiety begins to crest, it’s burned away by the bright grin that blooms across your face.

You tug him closer, your lips brushing his as you whisper, “I love you, too.”, like a little secret, just for the two of you - and you kiss him. You keep kissing him, pulling him down until his body is pressed fully against yours. Din doesn’t know how long the two of you lay there, languidly kissing and whispering little confessions of love, but he knows he would stay there forever.

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty eight : a place for us

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ☆ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 8.4k

summary : the not so secret happily ever after.

warnings: language, fluff, mild angst, pregnancy, smut, din has a lot of insecurities, they're having a couple of problems but the biggest one is lack of communication, breeding kink, pregnancy sex, oral f!recieving, p in v sex, masturbation, creampie, come eating, din comes really fast but it's sweet, nongraphic childbirth, domestic bliss, ro making things up about star wars lore

a/n: this is it my loves, i truly hope that this is the ending people wanted. i'm extremely happy with it and i'm extremely emotional so im gonna go sit down lmao.

☆

You’d spent the better half of the day trying to get on top of him. 

Every time you managed to get close he’d simply set you down on the nearest surface with a kiss on the cheek and go back to doing whatever he was working on. 

You haven’t had sex. 

Not since everything happened. 

You’ve tried, a few times but it never seemed right, you always asked if you could stop, opting to just lay together instead. You were making yourself sick with worry that he was unsatisfied so you took a day off from the meetings and the royal duties to just stay in the cabin and watch him work. 

You just want to do something nice for him. 

He does everything. 

He cooks your meals, he rubs your feet, he spends his entire day working, he’s nearly tripling the cabin in size, and he does it all on one leg. 

Well, not technically on one leg, he has the prosthetic but still. He hobbles with no complaints around the house and all you do is sit all day in the castle, talking. 

So you try. All day. 

Until the two of you are getting ready for bed.  

“Come on. Seriously, I'm fine.” You put your hands on his shoulders as he got into bed beside you. 

“Stop trying to seduce me.” He kisses your temple, rolling you onto your side as he fills in the space behind you. “You don’t need to force it.” He lifts his bottom half onto the bed, carefully removing the steel leg, setting it onto the floor next to him. One of the only pieces of his Mandalorian days he chose to keep. He had all of his armor melted down, save for his helmet, some of it was forged into a new leg, but the majority was given to the foundlings. 

“I’m serious! I’m in the mood.” You aren’t and he knows it, so any efforts to roll over and face him are stopped as he wraps his arms around you, one hand resting protectively over your stomach. 

“You’re not.” 

“I’m desperate for it.” You whine loudly but he only laughs, his nose bumping against the back of your neck. 

“Go to sleep.” You can hear the grin in his voice. 

You wait a moment in the silence.

“Are you sure?” You start trying to turn again. 

“I swear to the Maker-”

“Okay! Sorry!” 

Maybe it was hormones, or maybe it was just everything that had happened. But during your first trimester no matter how hard you tried you just couldn’t seem to find the energy to be physical with him. It was as if your libido vanished entirely. You tried several times but he always just kissed your forehead and told you to relax. 

“You’ve given me everything I have ever wanted, I need nothing else from you.” He laughs against your spine as he kisses you there. 

“You’re sure?” 

“What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m fine?” 

“Let me take care of you…” You whine, trying to push back against him as he holds you in place.

“Stop worrying about me.” He continues to chuckle, hot against your skin as he kisses your cheek before pulling the quilt up over you both, it only takes a few minutes for him to start snoring behind you. 

☆

You want to completely disassemble the monarchy.

Din wants you to be as relaxed as possible during your pregnancy. 

Neither one of you has been getting what you want. Turns out being queen doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want, there are limits, limits that have you arguing with your dearly departed husband's family most days. 

You spend the better part of the next month in and out of the throne room, looking down at the table Kodo’s family set up below the throne. You argue over everything, you want to destroy everything that they stand for and obviously they don’t agree. 

So you have to compromise. 

At the end of the day it ends up being better than nothing. 

The royal family no longer has any political power over Naboo citizens, but they get to keep their titles, including your own. They’re ceremonial now. 

The royal family can no longer collect taxes from the people but they get to keep all their funds currently in the vaults. 

The people get to vote in new leaders but the royal family gets to have automatic representation on the council. 

It’s a give and take but when you finally get a chance to walk through the city with Din the people look happy and you can’t help but feel a rush of pride at the little changes. The little smiles you see every now and then, the way people stop to talk to each other, the way people look at you. 

It’s different.

It’s happier, it feels safer. 

It makes spending your first trimester with the Harand’s completely worth it. 

And it’s a good thing you came to an agreement and got everything sorted out when you did because you don’t want to get out of bed most days during your second trimester. 

You feel great, no more nausea and your energies even up. 

You’re just so kriffing horny. 

Morning, noon, and night. 

Din’s finished the added rooms in the cabin so you’re both tasked with getting everything in order in your own room and in the nursery but you don’t let him get much done. 

If you had any worries about leaving him unsatisfied those first few months they’re gone after the first week of your second trimester, you’re more than making up for it. You’re actually worried about him keeping up with you. 

Of course having a bed you love helps. It was the first thing Din made when he started working on the cabin. A bed that wasn’t too big but fit you both perfectly, and you make sure to put it to good use. 

It came on suddenly in the last week of your first trimester. 

You had woken up early one morning craving something you hadn’t wanted in quite some time. So you rolled over, tracing a finger along his bare chest until his eyes fluttered open, his breath hitching as he gave you a sleepy smile. 

“Morning.” His voice in the mornings always reminded you of how he used to sound through the modulator, low and raspy. 

“Good morning.” You whispered back, letting your hand drag down his stomach until he stopped you, kissing your forehead, you shuffled towards him, feeling his cock hardening against your hip. You furrow your brow in confusion as he starts getting up. “Is something wrong?”

“You don’t need to force it for my sake.” You know he isn’t upset, he’s never voiced concerns about your sex life but he’s convinced himself that you just don’t have a sex drive right now. When in reality you’ve woken up almost painfully needy. 

“Din-“ You start, reaching towards him. 

“Sarad.” He took your hand in his as he situated his leg. 

“Do you still want me?” You won’t be upset if he says no, after all you haven’t wanted him very much recently. 

“Always. But I’m not gonna let you pretend for my sake. Your hormones are different now, maybe after the baby is born you’ll feel a little different, if not, I’ll still be sleeping here next to you every single night. Nothing’s gonna change that.” 

“But-“

“I’m gonna take a shower.” He kissed your hand and left the room, leaving you hot between your thighs and suddenly worried that he’d never believe you were ready. 

You had brushed him off and been clearly uncomfortable often enough now that he had resigned himself to making no more attempts. 

He took a lot of showers. 

And you could pretend you didn’t hear him groaning your name through the door but it still sent a pang of guilt through you that no amount of reassurance could change. 

You hear the water turn on as you lay back in bed with a frustrated sigh. 

You have the galaxy's most devoted husband, you could tell him you never wanted to touch him again and he’d never ask why. He’d simply love you from a little further away, and you love him with all of your heart for that but in that moment you just wanted to be fucked. 

So you rolled over and stuck your hand in your nightstand drawer, searching for the cold metal of the vibrator you’d bought ages ago. When you finally found it you experimentally tested the buttons, grinning when you realized it still worked. You set up some pillows against the headboard to lean against them, bending your legs at the knee as you reach under your nightgown, finding your thighs sticky, your panties doing nothing to contain the arousal coursing through you. 

For a second you’re worried you’ve forgotten how to do it but the moment you switch on the toy it’s like riding a bike. The motions, the patterns, all of it comes rushing back and in just a few shakey breathes you're already on edge. 

You can hear him over the buzzing, you hear a few thuds, closing your eyes you imagine him on the other side of the wall. 

Without his helmet.

You haven’t been able to think about him like that since he abandoned his creed, now it’s all you can think about. 

His hand up against the tile, steadying him. The other wrapped around that pretty cock of his. You turn up the vibrator as you picture the water cascading down his skin, making his curls straighten out as he pulls back his foreskin, his pretty pink tip’s probably leaking down his shaft. 

“Din-” You whisper to yourself, focusing on the grunt you can hear faintly followed by the strained sound of your name. Your stomach tightens. His eyes are probably squeezed tightly shut, creasing in the corners as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “Din, please.”

“Kriff.” He hisses out loud enough for you to hear clear as day. 

You hear him stifle a moan, is he biting his own hand? You decide it’s for the best that you do that now as well, covering your mouth with your palm. You chase the tightening in your stomach, dipping the toy into the wetness pooling at your entrance and back up to your clit. You’re so focused on getting off that it barely even registers when the water turns off in the other room.

“Fuck-” You whine softly, turning it up one more setting.

You open your eyes when the door creaks open, Din stepping back into the bedroom with a towel held loosely around his waist. You squeeze your thighs together, your eyes watering as a gasp is forced out of your stomach, your body convulsing briefly. 

Maker, you’re more pent up than you thought. 

You wet your lips with your tongue as his grip on the towel tightens, his eyes go wider than you’ve ever seen them and he coughs. 

“M’gonna go make breakfast.” He manages to mumble out as the tips of his ears burn up, he gets dressed rather hastily before rushing out of the room.

When you go to the dresser to find something to wear you pick something that rides up on your stomach. You don’t really have a bump yet, Din insists that he can tell, often kissing you just above your belly button when he does but you don’t really notice a difference. 

You meander out into the kitchen, already having to yank down the front of your top. 

Maker, maybe you are showing. 

You innocently look through the conservator as he sets the table, frowning as he pouts himself a mug of caf. You’ve been wanting some for weeks but he won’t let you have so much as a sip. 

“I think I’m gonna make some cinnamon rolls tonight.” You sit down at the table as he sets a plate of buttered bread with meat and eggs. 

“That sounds lovely.” He kisses the top of your head, bringing you a glass of juice and a few vitamins before sitting beside you. “Do you need me to go into the city and get anything for you?”

“No, I think I’ve got everything I need. What are you doing today?” 

“House work. I need to fix a few things and install the heaters, it’s gonna be cold when the baby gets here.” You’re rather excited for winter, you haven’t seen snow since you left Hoth. It’s already started to chill outside. Naboo has long autumns and you aren’t due until the winter. 

“Do you need any help with that?” You ask as you take a bite of the rich dense bread, already knowing the answer. 

“No, you just relax today.”  Ever since you finished all your royal business Din hasn’t let you do any work around the house. 

“I got that package from Elaine a few days ago, I could finally unpack everything.” You nod towards the crate in the living room and he’s already shaking his head. 

“I can do that when I finish up the heat-“

“I can’t just sit around all day everyday.” You point your fork at him as he gives you an apologetic look. 

“You could if you wanted to.” He says hopefully before you flick a piece of sausage at him. He easily catches it out of the air, popping it into his mouth. 

“Oh and we should have sex tonight.” You try to say it as casually as possible but he immediately chokes on his food, coughing briefly before clearing his throat and taking a sip from his mug. 

“Mesh’la, how many times do I have to tell you not to worry about that.” 

“It’s not for your sake, it’s for mine.” You’re not even halfway done with your breakfast as he takes his last bite. Quickly standing and rushing his dishes to the sink. 

“We’ll talk about it later, I gotta get started on some stuff.” He’s walking around you carefully, avoiding your angry glare as he makes a hasty escape towards the third bedroom. 

“If you don’t listen to me I’m not letting you pick the middle name!” You yell after him but all you get in return is a muffled chuckle. 

You finish your breakfast, taking your time as you chew, feeling rather frustrated despite the orgasm you already gave yourself less than an hour ago. 

The third room is currently your makeshift laundry room, you keep anything that doesn’t have a proper place in there. Currently Din is fixing the window in there so you take it upon yourself to do a load of laundry. You empty the washer, filling it again as you turn on both machines. 

“Mind if I watch you for a bit?” You smile at him as he nods, wiping a bead of sweat from his hairline. You take the opportunity to hop up on the dryer when he turns back to his work. 

You close your eyes, letting your head roll to the side a bit as you lean forward. You smile to yourself, a wave of deja vu washes over you as you think of everytime you’ve teased him prior. You get lost in the memory of the two of you in the library, you briefly forget your goal entirely as you rock yourself back and forth, humming softly to yourself. 

Your thoughts eventually drift to how he had touched you that night and when you finally come to your senses your face is hot as your fingers grip your thighs. When you look at din he’s staring at you slack jawed.

He clears his throat, his face going red as he quickly goes back to work, finishing up quickly before getting ready to leave. 

“Help me down?” You hold your arms out to him and you swear he gulps as he steps over the laundry basket to grab you under your arms, setting you down. 

“All good?” His voice is strained as he watches you nod. 

“Perfect.” 

Except it isn’t perfect. 

The bastard remained unconvinced. 

And you remain frustrated out of your mind. 

He takes a break after installing the heating system, when he sits on the sofa, sipping a glass of water you take it upon yourself to finally go through the baby clothes Elaine sent you. The large crate is marked with a calligraphed L&E. You carefully break open the top, opening the envelope placed on top of the many fabrics. You can’t help but smile when you see who it’s addressed to. 

Princess,

Is it still princess? ‘Queen’ seems like a bit much, although you should have seen the High Magistrates' face when we told him the Mandalorian married royalty. 

He wants to visit when the little one is born but unfortunately we won’t be joining him. Elaine’s a bit sensitive to the cold but we’ll see you when it warms up. She’s terribly excited to be a godmother, even if she doesn’t show it. When Din told her the sex she started sewing immediately. Took two weeks for her to make all this, you can expect more soon. She can’t seem to help herself, our house is full of tiny socks and hats. 

The shop’s doing well. Karga alone buys enough clothes to keep us in business but things are good. I still don’t know how Elaine sews as much as she does or as well as she does but she hasn’t slowed down since we moved. 

She misses you, even if she acts all tough about it. I miss you too, we’ll visit as soon as it’s spring. 

Send pictures of the nursery when it’s finished. 

Love, Lysa 

You look down at the contents and are taken aback at the sheer amount of baby clothes you’re faced with. You grab the first thing that catches your eye, little green overalls. 

“Oh my gods.” You hold them up for him to see. Din’s gaze goes soft as he stares at the fabric. He slides off the sofa to sit on the floor beside you, taking them as you begin looking through the rest of the clothes. 

“Are you sure he’s gonna fit in these? They look small.” He holds the overalls in front of his face as you fish out a handful of striped socks. 

“That’s how big newborns are, my love. He’s gonna be small.” You unfold a large patchwork quilt, marveling at the craftsman ship as Din gives you a skeptical look. 

“These are just so… tiny.” You laugh a bit at the sudden anxiety in his voice. 

“I thought Grogu was a baby? You should know how small babies are, how old was he when you found him?”

“Fifty.” You shove his arm. 

“Funny.” You stop laughing the second you find a little gray hat with black yarn patterns. “Maker, you’re gonna die when you see this.” You flip it around in your hands, showing him the mock design of his helmet, the thin cross of his visor. 

“No kriffing way.” He takes it from you as you fight off a grin. 

☆

When you’ve finished going through everything Din packs it all back up, taking it to the nursery as you bake, simultaneously trying to think of different ways to seduce your riduur. 

You shoo him away when he tries to help, eventually he settles on sitting on the couch. Reading from where he can see you. 

You’re strongly considering just getting “stuck” in the washer and calling him to help you, you’re pretty sure you saw that in a holo at one point. 

By the time you finish baking you still have nothing, taking them out of the oven and icing them before placing one on a plate and making your way over to him. You pull yourself up into his lap, gently taking his book and setting it down beside you. 

“Mesh’la.” He says in a stern tone, his voice wavers a bit as he struggles to keep his composure. 

“I thought you like my baking?” You pout and somehow he falls for it. 

Pregnancy has made him even more infatuated with you, if that’s even possible. He’s somehow more gentle with you than ever before. 

“Of course I do.” He mumbles sweetly, leaning forward to kiss your cheek. You tear off a chunk of the pastry, something you’ve done before, and bring it to his lips.

“Open.” You say sternly and he immediately does, letting you feed him. If it’s possible for a man to be both extremely relaxed and extremely stressed out then that’s what Din currently is. 

You stay in his lap.

Feeding him until the plate is empty, he even licks your fingers clean and you’re so mesmerized by the plush softness of his mouth that you can’t help yourself.

You fall forward into him, and he flinches. 

He never flinches. 

You immediately back up, crawling off his lap as you give him a look of concern, trying to figure out if you’ve hurt him. 

“I’m- I’m sorry.” He swallows, avoiding eye contact. 

“Don’t be sorry.” You whisper it, leaning forward, resting your head on his shoulder, he takes your hand in yours. 

“I just- I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this for me.” 

“Why are you so insistent that I don’t want you?” You finally just tear the band aid off. 

Silence.

Briefly, you know he’s deciding if he should say it or not. 

“You stopped wanting to have sex when I took the helmet off.” He blurts out and you nearly fall off the couch at the absurdity of his reasoning. 

“Din that has noth-“

“And it’s fine. There’s no reason for you to pretend to be attracted to me just for the sake of my ego. You can love me without loving,” He gestures at himself. “this.”

It makes you want to cry. 

To think that he thought you were withholding your affections because you didn’t like how he looked. It makes you even more upset to know that he was okay with that, he was willing to live a life believing that to be true and simply never touch you like that again. 

“Look, I still have the helmet, we’re going to make this work.” He whispers. His leg bounces up and down until he suddenly stands. “Give me a minute?” He’s already headed for the door. You sit there, a little stunned.

You decide to give him space, you can talk when he comes to bed. You dress in a thin brown camisole and green panties, you try to make yourself look nice, hoping maybe he’ll relax at the sight of it but based on the look he gives you when he comes into the bedroom you’re a little worried it’s having the opposite effect. 

“I love you and-” You start but he just collapses into bed next to you.

“Please- mesh’la I can’t, this torment is unbearable.” His hands clutch the fabric of your clothes, his fingers trembling. “You’re making this extremely difficult for me.” He’s downright flushed as he pleads with you. 

“I won’t stop until you believe me.” You insist further as he sinks his eyes into you, his pupils swollen and frantically searching your face as he swallows loudly. “You couldn’t be more beautiful to me. It had nothing to do with you, I just- I needed a little time after everything.” You whisper sharply, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time. “I’ve been waiting to wake up. I keep thinking you’re gonna disappear and I’m going to lose you all over again and none of that is your fault.” The room is quiet aside from your combined breathing. 

“Are you sure? Really sure?” He’s speaking so quietly you barely hear him as his fingertips ghost the exposed skin under the bunched up fabric of your top. 

“Look, I’m not going to force you to touch me, but I don’t know how else to get my point across and if you really want me to stop all of this then I will-“

“Don’t stop.” He whispers, barely audibly as his hands hold your face, lips pressed to yours. Your head falls back into the pillows as his mouth immediately makes a beeline south, kissing your sternum, you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him back up. “Please- I wanna taste-” He downright whines as you pull his bottom lip between your teeth.

“After.” You pant into his mouth. “I can’t wait, I need you.” 

You do, terribly. 

You guide his hand between your legs and his fingers push your panties to the side in an instant, his mouth falls open in a silent moan as he feels the wetness there. He eases a finger into you as you whine impatiently. “I don’t wanna wait-” You reach down to grab at his wrist but he just kisses you again to silence you.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” He mumbles, he listens to an extent, pushing in a second finger. The stretch is delicious. You feel like your skin is on fire as you try to push yourself further onto his hand. 

“I don’t care, please Din I need you so bad. I need your cock.” Your brain is foggy, you're so turned on right now, you’d do anything to feel him inside you. 

He nods, shoving his trousers down and pulling his shirt up over his head as you squirm out of your own clothing. Almost immediately he looks overwhelmed, his eyes don’t know where to settle as they make their way down your body. Finally he swallows, taking his cock in hand, tip pink and pretty as he strokes himself so you can see how he’s already leaking, just for you. 

He eases himself into you, slow and steady as you try to stay still. It’s all too much, his thick length pressing deeper and deeper into you until you’re both gasping, forehead to forehead with him fully seated within your heat. 

“Okay?” He manages to spit the words out despite the way his chest heaves as you nod. 

“Din fuck me please I can take it.” You plead with him, he looks skeptical so you rock your own hips, it isn’t much but it’s enough to make your eyes roll back as you nudge him deeper. 

“Look at me.” He whispers as you blink, trying to focus on the warmth in his eyes as he searches your expression for pain. 

“You’re so pretty.” You mumble out. He looks a little surprised by the sentiment, his tongue poking out between his lips as he looks at you. 

Has anyone ever told him that? 

“Thank you.” Is the last thing he says before slamming his hips forwards, the head of his cock bumping against your cervix. His thrusts are erratic and needy as he watches your face intently. He’s so worked up and it’s been so long and the combination of it all has him practically whimpering against you within minutes.

“I can’t- I- It-” He begins to stammer, his lips are wet and swollen, his eyes fight to stay open, pupils darting everywhere like he’s trying to take in as much as he possibly can as his cock pulses inside you. 

You want him to come. You want to watch him, watch his face, as he finishes. You want to see him hot and desperate just for you, you want to know that you made him feel this good after just a few minutes. 

“I wanna see, please, please Din.” You lay back, gasping with every stutter of his hips, taking in the sight as he squeezes his eyes shut. 

“I- I- kriff, love you so much.” He hisses out as his hands fist the sheets. The veins in his neck stick out as his mouth falls open, an obscene moan is ripped from him as he rocks his hips forward one last time, you can see where the two of you are connected. His cum spilling out around his length, forced out by the sheer girth of him. His breathing is staggered as he slumps forward, kissing you with a fire that you didn’t realize you missed so much.

He doesn’t kiss you nearly as much as you want before his mouth is already moving down your body, any complaints you have never make it past your lips. It feels too good when he touches you like this.

He squishes the bridge of his nose into your stomach, just below your belly button as he kisses the soft skin there. His mouth hasn’t even made its way between your legs yet and he’s moaning into your flesh, his fingers kneading the meat of your hips. 

He pushes your thighs wider apart and you swear you see him drool at the view he’s presented with. 

He looks up at you, his eyes wide and needy, waiting for permission. You nod a little too quickly and he dives into you. His tongue immediately works its way into your still dripping hole, he’s everywhere, precise and deliberate as he pushes his own seed back into you. 

“So- fucking- good-” He mumbles to himself as if you aren’t even there before flattening his tongue against your clit, it’s enough to have your thighs closing around his head, the cool metal of his hearing aids stings your flesh as you come undone. Your vision goes white as you whine, high pitched and breathy. 

He doesn’t stop for a second, eating like you’re a goddamn buffet. When you catch a glimpse of his face his jaw is slick with a combination of the two of you. His eyes are dark as your head falls back, you want so desperately to watch but it’s too much, all you can do is whimper and grip his hair. 

He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bundle of nerves until you’re coming all over again. You collapse back into the pillows, already exhausted but smiling so hard your face hurts. He sits back on his ankles, lifting your legs as he kisses your calves. 

He’s perfect like this. 

Tan, scarred body on display to you in the warm lamp light. Skin covered in a thin layer of sweat that makes his hair curl and stick to his forehead. His eyes are dark as his tongue pokes out, swiping across his lips to taste the remnants of you, his cock stands proud against his stomach, already hard and aching for you once more. 

“Don’t relax just yet, I’m not done with you.” He mumbles into your tender flesh, hands grabbing your ankles as he yanks you forward, slotting himself between your legs again. 

It’s a good thing because you certainly aren’t done with him, you can’t get enough of him for the next six months. 

Further into your second trimester nothing’s changed. If anything you’re even more insatiable. If it was possible to get pregnant twice you’d have done it by now. 

You also make a point to kiss his face as much as humanly possible, you can’t help but wonder if anyone else ever has.

He likes it in a way you aren’t yet familiar with, he leans into your lips at every opportunity, eager to feel your mouth against the apples of his cheeks, the sensitive skin of his eyelids, the sharp angle of his nose, and the prickles of the stubble on his chin. 

And you are more than happy to indulge him. 

☆

The third trimester wasn’t much better but you managed to better manage your time. You went on walks, even if they were short, you’d insist on walking around the gardens or the markets whenever you could. 

You didn’t think it was possible but somehow Din’s become even more protective. If he had things his way you’d sit in the cabin all day while he stared at you from a few inches to your left. 

With that sharp protectiveness has come a silence, it takes a few days for you to notice but you realize just how quiet he’s been. It’s subtle but you know something's off. Word’s become soft arm touches, he holds you a little tighter at night and he never asks if you need help anymore, he just does everything before you can even get to it. 

It’s seemingly a couple of things. 

You know something is bothering him but he’s become sort of shy. 

When you walk the markets he’s still viewed as a member of your staff but you don’t hide things anymore. You’ll feed him by hand if you buy a snack cake, you’ll hold his arm as you walk. He’ll even kiss your forehead if the opportunity arises.   

But he’s timid. 

And it isn’t until you’re visiting Vivian that you realize what it is. You had been telling her about how hard it’s been for you to decide on a shade of green for the nursery when he had hidden his face in your hair. You had entangled your fingers in his and thought of it as nothing more than an act of affection from him but it started happening more often. 

And then it clicked.

He only ever did it after being directly addressed, when people were looking at him. You finally brought it up one night when you’d been trying to get comfortable on the couch, your protruding stomach making it exceedingly difficult. 

You’ve got two talking points to cover, the sudden shyness, and getting to the bottom of his silence, although you’ve got a sneaking suspicion as to what it’s about. 

You eventually settled with your head in his lap and your feet up on the arm rest, smiling up at him as he played with your hair. 

“You know you can wear the helmet when we go out if you want.” You finally blurt out as he gives you a confused look. 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Well I know that you still have it and you just seem a little… uncomfortable sometimes without it.”

“I thought you liked my face?” He says it with a teasing tone but it has you sitting up out of the position you struggled to find for so long.

“I love your face. But I also want you to be comfortable.” You press a long kiss into the coarse facial hair of his jaw, he’s been so busy with house work and you it’s gotten longer than you’ve ever seen or felt it. 

“I’m comfortable with you.” He turns his face, nudging his nose against your lips until you kiss him there as well. 

“I just noticed that you’ve been a little tense, especially during outings.” You tilt your head, giving him a lopsided smile as he stands, leaning down to cradle your face in his hands. 

“I’m just not used to it, cyare.” He stands, examining the space in the room. “I want to put a fireplace in before the baby comes.” He mumbles as he moves the loveseat, making space against the wall.

You seize the opportunity, might as well kill two birds with one stone. 

“Speaking of when the baby comes, I thought we were going to visit your little one at some point?” 

His shoulders stiffen up for just a moment before he shrugs.

“I guess I’ve just had other things on my mind, nerves about the baby.” He doesn’t look at you, instead he measures the space on the wall with his hands. 

“I thought you were excited to be a dad?”

“I am a dad, and I am excited.” He’s mumbling, he hasn’t talked about Grogu in ages and it’s making you worry. 

“You’ve been quiet.”

“I’m always quiet.”

“Not with me.” 

He turns and stares at you for a moment before clearing his throat. 

“I’m scared.” He sits back down beside you and you wrap your arms around him as best you can with your bump in the way.

“Of what?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I’m scared that the baby won’t like me, or that I’ll mess them up, or something like that.” It is so much easier to tell when he’s lying, now that you can see his face. You never would have thought his cheeks would get so rosy. 

He’s a natural with kids and he’s been more excited than you are for the baby, he even spends all his free time embroidering the baby’s name into their clothes. 

“Din.” You say sternly, pulling back to look at him.

He chews the inside of his cheek a bit. 

He whispers something but he’s so quiet you can’t hear him.

“Din, please.” You take his head in your hands and force him to look at you. 

“I’m scared that if we go to get Grogu he won’t want to come home with us.”

A pang of sorrow hits your heart. 

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Maybe he’s happy there, maybe he’s forgotten all about me.” He looks hurt in a way you’ve never seen him before, if you weren’t days away from your due date you’d get on a ship and take him to his boy right now. 

“He hasn’t forgotten about you.” You take his hand. 

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you. And I know that I’d never forget you.” He still looks unsure as you stare into those sad eyes of his. “We have to at least try, it would be better to know. This baby already loves you, that’s enough of an indicator to me that Grogu feels the same.”

“You have no proof that this baby already loves me.” He finally cracks a smile at what you’re implying.

“Come here.” You lay your head back down in his lap, making a second desperate attempt to get comfortable. You grab his hand, lifting the fabric of your top until your stomach is exposed, placing his large palm over the swell of your belly. “Talk to him.” 

“What am I supposed to say?” He’s looking at you like you’re insane but you just shrug.

“You talk to him all the time.”

“Yeah but you never put me on the spot like this.” With his freehand he rubs the back of his neck. 

“Just do it.” He takes a deep breath, his thumb rubbing small circles into your skin. 

“Hello ik’aad.” He says softly, looking up at you for approval as you nod. “I’m excited to meet you soon, little one.” You watch as the taut skin moves ever so slightly, a little kick against Din’s fingers. His eyes go wide as he sits there a little stunned, you put your hand over his. 

“He does this most of the time when you talk to him. He likes your voice.”

“What else should I tell him about?”

“Anything.” 

He smiles at you, the corners of his eyes crinkle before he smiles at your bump.

“We painted your crib today, we decided to leave the walls alone but we wanted something to be green.” He carries on excitedly as you continue to feel the little flutters within you. “And- and someday you’re going to share a room with your brother.” You smile as your little one reacts to his fathers voice, you sit up, facing him.

“No more worrying. And if you’re going to worry then I want you to tell me.” You kiss as much of his face as you can. “Okay? Do this for me, please?”

“Okay.” He nods as you give him one last kiss on the lips. 

You move to sit between his legs like you used to in the nook, you find yourself a book as he puts his hands back on your bump while you read. 

He spends the rest of the night talking to your stomach. 

☆

Arin Kuiil Djarin (Harand) was born with a full head of hair. Dark, messy curls that you could make out even through your tears when he came into this world. 

The future monarch. (A ceremonial position.) 

A screaming ball of tears in your arms, crowned king from birth. A boy everyone knew as the only son of the recently departed Kodo Harand. 

Your “royal advisor and personal guard” was beside you the entire time. Holding your hand and kissing your sweat slicked forehead as he whispered to you, telling you just how strong you were. It was one hell of a night but when the morning came suddenly you were parents to a strong, loud little boy.

Din held him first, after he cut the umbilical cord the doctor handed him to him. You watched as he cradled the tiny crying baby in his arms, shushing him softly as he rocked him. It took only a few whispers from his father before Arin calmed down, gasping faintly as Din slid into the bed next to you. You laid your head against his arm, unable to tear your eyes off of the tiny miracle.  

“Do you wanna hold him?” Din’s voice cracks as he continues to stare at him. 

You nod, a little scared about how small he is but you hold your hands out regardless as he carefully transfers him into the crook of your arm. You’re holding your breath as you look down at him. 

When he’s safe in your arms he finally opens his eyes. 

He is just a little copy of your riduur. 

Dark curious eyes scanning your face as you burst into another wave of tears.

“He’s perfect.” 

“He’s perfect.”

You both whisper at the same time, laughing softly. You hold him tightly, Din’s arms wrapped protectively around both of you. 

Your entire universe in one little medcenter bed.

☆

You go on a lot of walks.

It helps you get out of the house and people love to see Arin. Din wears a baby carrier Elaine made with the little one strapped to his chest while you hold his hand. Everyone loves to see the little king, telling you that he’s such a good baby.

People often say he looks just like his father, you always laugh and smile at your brown haired boy.

He really does.  

He acts just like his father too. Even as a baby you can see his personality shining through. He likes to fight you on a lot of things, mostly vegetables and wearing his socks, but he loves you endlessly, your little mama’s boy. You never thought you’d see the adoration from Din’s eyes in someone else's but here he is, smiling up at you like you’re the sun, just like Din.

Your son was one year old when you met your second son. (Technically your eldest.)

You had urged Din to go to him sooner but he always found excuses, finally he told you he wanted to wait until Arin was a little older. On his first birthday you finally convinced him, and your family took a trip to a planet called Ossus. 

And you met a little boy who you loved as a son from the moment you met him. 

He certainly wasn’t what you were expecting but the moment he saw Din you recognized the look in his eyes as the same look Arin gives him first thing in the morning. And from that moment on you knew he was yours. 

You couldn’t ask for sweeter boys in your life. 

You finally found your peace.

Your freedom. 

Things are a little different now but you never find a reason to be upset about it. You just learn to live with it. 

Sometimes Din has to cut up any fruits or vegetables you’re preparing for dinner because the wet slicing sound makes your heart race. 

You sleep with a lamp on because Din trembles when a room goes completely dark, when he asks why you don’t turn it off you tell him you just like having it on because you know he’ll never tell you just how afraid he was when he was trapped beneath the stone and earth. 

You wrap him in blankets when winter comes and cradle his head against your chest, desperate to keep him warm. You see the vacant look in his eyes when a chill settles in his bones. The moment you see him shiver you bundle him up and drag him to bed, warming him with gentle and precise kisses until his eyes soften up again. 

Din always wakes you up if he’s leaving the room after you’ve fallen asleep. It doesn’t matter if he’s going to the fresher or if he’s going to grab the baby and come right back. Because he knows that if he isn’t there when you wake up, you will freeze up in terror and cry softly to yourself until he returns. 

On stormy nights, when the wind blows a certain way that resembles a low wailing, Din will always find an excuse to send Lysa a transmission, asking how Elaine is doing. 

You learn to live with the little thing’s because sometimes you can’t heal completely, but you live regardless. You have reasons to endure. 

You endure for Din. 

You endure for Grogu. 

And you endure for Arin. 

Din always says he was born to love you.

You agree but that wasn’t all he was born for, he was born to be a father. 

Arin and Grogu taught you to be a mother, but Din was made for fatherhood. 

That’s what you think about, as you sit in the loveseat by the fire, book in hand. You aren’t actually reading it, you’re too busy watching the scene on the floor in front of you. Your sons peek out of the pillow fort they’ve built against the sofa, Arin covering his mouth as he holds in a giggle, staring at you with his wide brown eyes. You give him a small wave, watching as he darts back inside. 

“Are you staring at your mother, young man? Staring is very rude.” You hear Din’s voice from inside the fort, a large bump in the blanket roof where he sits. More giggles follow as he crawls back to the small entryway, you watch as he shrieks when Din drags him back into the fort, taking his place and mimicking the little boy as he stares at you.

He looks at you with a devotion that never wavers. 

“You’re my creed. Everything I have, everything I am, it’s all for you. For both of you.” 

He still tells you that often. Except now he says for all of you. 

He crawls out of the fort, his face red from exertion as he makes his way over to your chair, like he’s under some sort of spell that pulls him towards you.

“How are my girls, buir sarad?” Din’s out of breath as he grabs the armrests of the chair, caging you in as he kisses you. 

“Tired.” You grin at him as he kneels down in front of you, resting his forehead on the bump you’re cradling with your freehand. You set your book down on the end table next to you, content to watch as he knocks his nose against the strained fabric of your dress. 

“Sarad’ika.” He smiles, kissing the top of your stomach, you don’t mind losing your nickname to someone it suits more. “Let me put them to bed, I’ll be right back.” His lips turn up as he stands, looking down at the two boys with drooping eyes and mouths open in yawns.

“Go with your buir now my loves, I’ll come tuck you in in a minute.” You groan as you stand, Din scooping up both babies with ease. 

“Haav ca’nara.” Bed time. He whispers, carrying them towards the fresher, you hear the water run as he washes their little faces and brushes their teeth. 

You tidy up, folding blankets and rearranging pillows as you hear water splashing from the other room followed by a loud sigh. You stifle a laugh as you watch your boys running from the fresher down the hall towards their room, a soaking wet Din soon follows. You continue to clean, waiting until it gets quiet before making your way out of the room. You walk past the nursery, empty and waiting for its next occupant, towards the door with the faint glow of a night light. Peering in from the doorway you see all your boys in one room. 

Grogu and Arin lay in their respective beds, each is far too big for the small boys but they’ll grow into them. Grogu’s already asleep as Din kneels beside Arin’s bed, brushing a curl out of the little one's eyes. 

“Goodnight, ik’aad.” He leans down, kissing his son's face, earning a sleepy smile from the boy. 

“Night, buir.” He mumbles out, he doesn’t speak often, quiet like his father, but when he does it’s always clear. 

Din smiles, standing, kissing your cheek as he passes you, going out into the main room to lock up as you make your way to Grogu’s bedside, watching his eyes flutter as you press a kiss into his wrinkly green forehead. 

“Goodnight, my love.” You mumble before turning to Arin’s bed, sitting beside him as you watch him fight sleep, trying to keep his eyes open. “Sleep now my little love.” You murmur to him, kissing your fingertips before bringing them to his forehead. 

“Goodnight mama.” He yawns out as you watch him finally succumb to sleep. 

You leave the door open a crack, letting out another groan as you rub your stomach, Din waits for you in the dimly lit hall, holding out a hand which you happily take, letting him pull you into an embrace. 

“No more babies after this one, my back is killing me.” You give him a stern look as he brings both hands to your bump. 

“You have given me everything, I wouldn’t possibly ask for more.” He whispers. “Although I do think we could handle one more.” He raises his eyebrows at you and you can’t help but laugh.

“Fine, you carry the next one then.” You reach behind him, pushing open the door as you grab the collar of his tunic, pulling him into a kiss while you laugh against each other. 

“I love you.” He mumbles. 

“I love you too.” There is no hesitation. There hasn’t been for a long time. 

And you go to bed. 

In your perfectly sized bedroom. 

On your perfectly sized mattress. 

With your Din. 

☆

a/n : this is technically the last chapter of bks <3 :,) epilouge in one week. q&a tomorrow so send your asks with questions. all my love to everyone whos read this far.

i no longer have a tag list !! follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates !!

[netherfeildren]

At the Restaurant

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this, and his eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him.

-OR-

the Christmas situationship AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Modern AU; Christmas fic; Angst; Fluff; Miscommunication; Emotionally unavailable idiots; But also idiots in love; Toxic relaationships; Situationship; There is nothing well adjusted about any of this pls don’t come into this house if that’s what you’re looking for; Trigger warning for man with an avoidant attachment style; Condolences to all my fellow victims of The Situationship; Size Difference; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Oral Sex (F!Receiving); Frankly some pretty pathetic behavior; Girl stand UP; Fuckboy Din; Plan B and Delusion as a form of birth control; Pull and pray baby pull and pray; Possessive Behavior; Jealousy; Insecurity; Trigger warning for Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift references

A/N: Hello and welcome to my contribution to the holiday fic pool! This is not at all what I was planning as my holiday piece, but I woke up a few mornings ago and was just completely taken hold by this. Much love and thanks and gratitude and all the kisses in the world to my friend @f0rlornmyths for all the help on the idea and brainstorming and for the gorgeous edits she made for this little story. Mai baby, this is all for you, and I know it's not the Christmas gift I promised you, but I swear, one day that too will get written.

I’m wishing you all the happiest and most relaxing of holiday seasons. I think of you all constantly and wish you all the best always, and I hope you’re taking care of yourselves during this time ❣️🎄��

Word Count: 8.2K

Read on AO3

He gets this sparkle in his eyes when the bar’s extra busy, cheeks flushed and curls damp with sweat and this shine that speaks; that tells of all the things he does that make a woman belong to him whenever he’s giving her his singular attention. Eyes that laugh and crinkle at the edges with happiness. Eyes that tell you how much he does or does not want you at that specific moment. And he’ll laugh and blind the room into seduction under the Christmas lights, and then he’ll turn, suddenly remembering you’re here for him, and look at you all serious-like, while you sip on your tequila soda, with two limes always because he knows that’s how you like it, and it’ll be a serious, cool look for just a second before it blooms into the best smile anyone’s surely ever had in all history, and you love him. 

It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this. You’ve never practiced restraint of this kind either. A restraint that suffocates and kills and could probably be taken as a form of self harm were you in a righter, more clear mind, but it’s the only thing you have left against him. Din. A control over yourself that falsely feeds you the illusion of power. You never call him. Never. Any interaction, any late night fuck, any time he comes over and comes inside you, it’s always, always because he calls you, he looks for you. You never beg, not with words at least, and you never text first and you never ask him if you can see him, and it’s the only way you tell yourself you maintain even a semblance of control. And at night, when you’re alone and it’s dark and you’ve only got the cat for some sad company, or you’re crying in bed because he hasn’t called, and you know he’s not at work and he’s obviously not at home, so he’s somewhere you don’t want him to be, that false sense of control that says you’re never the one reaching out, it’s always him coming around so surely that must mean something… it’s all you have at the end of it. 

He’s not your boyfriend. He never has been. And there’s always been that excuse you use to soothe yourself with of, well, we’ve never really talked about it, and he’s not really my boyfriend, so it doesn’t really matter. Does it? Doesn’t it? You’re sure you don’t know anymore. And you tell yourself, lie to yourself, comfort yourself, whatever it is your tired heart needs in that moment, because it truly is so tired, the push and pull is the most exhausting game in the world, that if he’s coming to you it’s because Din’s choosing you. Even if just for a night, even if just for now, even if tomorrow he’ll be with someone else, he chose you for tonight, and so surely that must mean something. It’s the worst thing you do to yourself, but it feels so good in the moment. You just can’t help yourself. 

“Another one?” He calls over his shoulder with a smile.

 You’d had a little bit of a… well, you don’t really know what to call it. A falling out, perhaps, because the two of you never have fights. You never fight, you never discuss the things the two of you should discuss, like feelings or anger or resentment or boundaries and wants and needs. Nothing. Nothing that indicates anything that might define what it is the two of you’ve been doing for two years with each other now. Fights are something couples do, and you two are not a couple. But up until three days ago, you’d not heard from him for two weeks. Two weeks of nothing, of hearing from your friends that they’d seen him out with his friends and other girls who you know probably mean nothing, even less than you do, but still. It’d made you insane. A little bit irrational, and so when you and your friends had gone out over the weekend, picked up a group of guys at the new bar you’d chosen for the night, since Din’s bar was off limits at the moment, and brought them back to your apartment at your roommate, Bo’s, insistence, well, you’d thought you’d give him a taste of his own medicine. After a slightly tipsy, teary eyed rant, explaining to your new friend for the night, a one Toro Calican, who had a very nice smile and very pretty eyes and not at all bad arms, all about your terrible situation with this man who you were not really in a relationship with, but who you have sex with, and only with him, regularly, unprotected, enthusiastically, but who is still not your boyfriend and not even anything close, he’d arranged himself very nice and cozy-looking in your bed with your twinkly lights sparkling in the background and your pink pig stuffy which Din loved to make fun of you for, and you’d taken a very tasteful, in your opinion, picture of him for your Instagram story. Again, a taste of his own medicine. 

Din had been at your front door forty five minutes later, angry. Angrier than you’d ever seen him before, and not at all trying to hide it. Pushing past you and into your apartment all tall and broad and wearing your favorite dark blue hoodie he knows you love, curls mused as if he’d been pulling his fingers through them in agitation. There’d been a sneaky, smarmy little devil inside of you doing a happy dance at that moment, and his eyes when he’d turned to glare at you after giving poor, Toro – casual, entirely unbothered, Toro with his big smile stretched across his handsome face as he’d looped an arm over Bo’s shoulders where he’d been sitting beside her on the couch – a look that said Din had half a mind to take him outside and wipe the floor with him. But your new friend had laughed him off, taking Din’s terribly cocky onceover, the sort he liked to set people down with, in stride. All arrogance and the sort of self assuredness only a man who knew what he was made of and how to take care of himself could possess. He was too hot for his, or your, own good. 

And when he’d turned and pushed you into your bedroom, a little tipsy, a lot desperate and pleased and wet, because yes, finally you were getting exactly what you wanted, exactly as you’d asked for it, and he’d flipped your skirt up and ripped your panties down and buried his face in your cunt from behind, all: this pussy’s mine, what the fuck was another dude doing in your bedroom? You’d been nothing but pleased giggles and hiccupy little moans as you’d come on his tongue just as he’d demanded of you. 

It was wrong. The two of you were wrong and maybe even bad for each other, but also, and this was only your own personal, fanciful discernment, addicted. A mutual addiction. The way he fucked you, hard and deep and possessive, like you belonged to him. Tugging you up by the hips and pulling you back onto his hard cock, the wet slap of your pussy dripping for him so that it surely echoed through the thin door of your shitty little apartment for the man who’d threatened what Din saw as rightfully his could hear exactly what was happening in here. You should have cared more about this ridiculous display of a pissing contest. You should have been bothered by it. You absolutely were not. And when he’d gone harder than stone, shoved deeper than you could comfortably take him so that you were coming around his cock one last time from the stretch and sting of it, and he’d filled you to leaking without even asking, you’d not even blinked at it, had been nothing but contented sighs.

It was all wrong, wrong, wrong.

Even worse, you’d never been on birth control. It made you sick, tired, moody, and the two of you worked around it… sometimes… kind of. Condoms when you remembered, usually ripped off mid fuck, pulling out… also sometimes. Never very responsible or dedicated to the practice of safe sex and level headedness, more focused on how fucking good it always felt when he was inside of you like this all bare and wet and hot and his. And if he fucked other girls, well, you tried not to think about that. Got tested, told yourself you were the only one he didn’t use protection with because you were special when they were not. And if there was, that last horribly misguided whisper that said, well, if he’s taking this risk with you, then obviously that means something too, right? Then so be it.

Again, like you’d said, bad for each other. 

But he always gave you so many reasons to be stupid, delusional, like the way he’d kissed you before he’d gone the morning after, while you were still sleepy and warm and a little sweaty from where you’d been pressed together so close through the night, wet and sticky between your legs from his come. He’d wrapped his arms around you and pressed you so, so close to his chest, nipples bare and tight against hard muscle and wispy hair. The musky sleep smell of him as he’d started at your shoulder, mouth slow and damp, kissed and nibbled his way up your collarbone, your throat, your jaw, settled at your ear to taste that soft place behind, pressed his tongue there to feel the echo of your pulse moving through your whole body, the flutter of his long lashes against your skin because he’s just that close. Your toes had curled and spasmed, little and cold, bracing against his hairy shins and big feet, hard cock nestled between the warmth of your thighs. And he always makes the best sounds, you know, deep and rumbly and all man. Familiar sounds that you’re able to replay again and again in your mind afterwards when he’s gone, sounds that make it easy for you to pretend he’s yours because you know them so well, and you want to keep him so bad it makes your stomach hurt. Gotta go get the kid, he’d said, by way of explanation for why he wasn’t pushing up into your come soaked cunt and having you one more time again, but he’d stayed and kissed you. And when he’d finally found his way to your mouth, sipping on you, tasting behind your teeth, along the wet of your tongue, that was all that really mattered anyway. 

Sometimes, he kisses you like he loves you, and it makes you hate him. 

He hadn’t called in the three days since then, but he’d been kind enough to DoorDash you a Plan B and a bag of your favorite Dove dark chocolate bites, and you want to hate him and maybe even run him over with you car, you really do, but then tonight, out of nowhere while you’d been at home telling yourself you weren’t going to cry, tired and sweaty from lying under your duvet for too long, fingers slippery between cunt and cotton, too many unsatisfying orgasms and a tear worthy film already chosen as your excuse for later, he’d sent a: come to the bar tonight, baby, I want to see you. And well, he’d come looking for you, right? He’d texted first. So really, this was all him wanting you and choosing you.

You need help, electroshock therapy, a lobotomy, anything. But you’d gotten your butt up and dressed, begged Bo to come out with you, and now here the two of you sit, good friend that she is, waiting for him to finally come over and say more than three stringed together words to you. Shaved, lotioned, perfumed, pathetic little ass sitting at the end of his bar in a too sticky, too uncomfortable stool waiting for him. Always waiting for him.

You shake your head no at him and his proffered next round. No you don’t want another fucking drink. What you want is his attention. 

And the worst part is, probably the worst, for there are so many bad parts to this, is that you don’t truly think he’s a terrible person, Din. He’s just so… he’s just– you don’t know. Sad, busy, exhausted, selfish, overwhelmed, so many things. But not bad, not actually a bad person. You’re sure of it. And it might look so differently from the outside, like you’re nothing, like he uses you, and sure, in ways, he does. You’re not so stupid or naive to not see this for what it is, because if there is one thing that is crystal clear here, it’s that you’ve always known what this is and what it is not. But you also see him. You also know him, as hard as he’s tried to keep you at arms length, to not let you see, to not let you in, you’ve weaseled your way inside anyways, or, better said, and something you don’t let yourself dwell on too much for the things it makes your stupid brain and heart feel, he has never been very good at not letting you see him. Because despite all the truths of how this thing between the two of you is, or is not, there is also something, as small as it may be, that is real here. 

So no, Din is not bad, or not all bad. And it’s easy to call them excuses, but you’re not so sure that’s the only thing they are, the ways in which you justify his behavior or yours. Because there is also context to him, and his life, and the things that drag his attention away from you when you so desperately need and want it, why you know he won’t commit to one single thing because he knows how easily lost a good thing can be. 

You take a pull from your straw, paper, and it’s already coming apart in wet flakes on your tongue because this dumb bar he works at pretends to be swanky, and paper straws are obviously a signifier that it’s not the cheap, shitty dump it actually is. Mean, but you’re in a bad mood tonight. Peli, the owner, had him string up multicolored lights and decorations everywhere for the holiday season, and it sort of looks like Santa threw up in here, but it’s also nice. Cozy or comfortable or welcoming, something happy and cheerful about the crowd surrounded by the sparkle of the holiday and loose from the heavily poured liquor. Or maybe it’s just that you know he put up the decorations. That he’d been good and patient and helpful as the older woman, eccentric and curly haired and a little stern and potty mouthed as she is, but always kind to him, had directed him as she pleased. Giving orders so that the bar could look as lovely and warm and cheerful as it does now. He always looks at her with such care and warmth, and you alway see it, as much as he tries to hide it. 

He’d added a splash of sweet grenadine and a maraschino cherry into your drink tonight, and called it your slutty Shirley Temple, said you looked like you needed something sweet followed by one of those cocky little winks he thinks make him look hot, they do, but you tell him only make him look like an asshole. All of which you know is only his way of telling you, without actually telling you, that he’s going to be shoving his cock down your throat later tonight. Something sweet… yeah, sure. There’s nothing sweet about him. 

He always tells you so many things neither of you want the other to know with his eyes. The stupid things, the silly things, the real things, it doesn’t really matter. He can’t ever help it. 

The first time he’d told you about his parents, you’d thought: this is it, this is something real. The come down had been a singular type of devastating you don't think you’d recovered from to this day. They’d died in a home invasion, a robbery gone terribly, terribly wrong, when he’d been two months shy of eighteen; left him with too much responsibility and too much grief for a boy of seventeen to bear, to ever be able to grow into without growing a little bit skewed in the process. When he’d introduced you to his little brother, the first time, you’d been better prepared, better in control of yourself and your expectations. But still, still you’d let a small, small part of you let it mean something. Grogu, Greg, but they used to watch this cartoon together about this man, a warrior, a space cowboy of sorts, who finds a little green baby, more frog looking than baby looking, called Grogu and takes him in as his own, bringing him along on all his adventures through the big, wide galaxy. They’d always joked that Greg looked like the frog baby, and so, Grogu. 

The first time he’d asked you to come over, you’d forced yourself to not throw up as you’d seen the text come in, had to force away thoughts of this has to mean something, please, please, let this mean something more. And the kid had been asleep already anyways when he’d smuggled you inside, quick and quiet, locking the door to his bedroom behind you, messy and lived in and Din, Din, Din everywhere, pressed you into his rumpled mattress, and fucked you til you’d cried and bit your tongue until you’d tasted blood to keep in all the things you had inside to tell him. And in the morning, when he’d made you a cup of coffee and oh, isn’t he nice for that? The kid had stumbled out of his bedroom, dinosaur pj’s and sleep rumpled curls the same warm mahogany shade as his older brother’s turned pseudo father, and he’d had his waffles while you’d sat there between the two of them as Din’d clucked around making lunches, sipping from your mug trying as best you could to be a good girl and not whip around and scream at the man that this has to mean something more, please. 

The kid had eyed you skeptically, as if you’d had two heads, little fuzzy brow cocked high up towards his curl covered hairline while he chomped loudly on his waffles. More syrup than bread, but who were you to judge? 

“Are you Din’s girlfriend?”

And rather than drop dead on the spot or bear the devastation of hearing the refusal come out of his older brother’s mouth, the second you’d seen Din’s own eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, mouth falling open to probably tell him no, absolutely not, she’s nothing even close to being my girlfriend, you’d said as easy as you could manage, “No, we’re just friends.” Even added in a fake, tepid smile as you’d said the words. And now, as time’s passed since then, when you think back on the memory, you tell yourself that you’d imagined the frown and scowl that’d pulled Din’s face down into something that looked a little like annoyance or anger or confusion. He’d never done anything to make you think you were anything otherwise, and so what good did it do to dwell on the maybe false memory of his look of disappointment at your words? None at all, surely. 

But you’re pretty sure you’re the only girl that’s ever been let into their space like that.

He’s at the other end of the bar now, engrossed in a conversation with someone who’s too sparkly and too pretty and too blonde to be anything but trouble for you. His tall, deceptively lanky form that you know beneath the dark baggy, long sleeved tee he’s wearing is strong and muscled and warm as a furnace, curved over the lip of the bar to lean further towards her. They’ve been talking for about five minutes now, yes, you’ve been counting, and your heart is doing that horrible thing it does where it hurts so bad it feels like it’s ripping in half all on its own. You want to look away, especially as you watch the long, gorgeous form of his hand, big, strong hands that you know exactly what they feel like wrapped around your throat, clutching your breasts, lift slowly towards the glowing Christmas lights necklace the girl’s got hanging around her neck, the cheery red and green lights nestled deep in her cleavage. He plucks at the necklace, giving it a little tug and says something to her that has her throwing her head back, and she sparkles, she really does, with those sort of laughs that tinkle like bells or something equally fucking ridiculous.

“We should just go, babe,” Bo says from beside you, glaring down at him so intensely you’re shocked he hasn’t keeled over dead at this point. 

“Just a little bit longer, Bo, please.” 

“God, I can’t watch this shit anymore.” She pushes up and out of her stool with a roll of her eyes, but passes a loving hand down the back of your hair as she goes. “I’m gonna go try and pick up that red head sitting in the back. She’s been eyeing me all night,” she smirks at you. 

“You cannot date another ginger. That is too much ginger for one household.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re in love with the devil, I can do whatever I want. And I can’t watch him anymore, I don’t have the stomach for it.”

You try and protest as she walks away from you, tell her that you’re not in love with him, that he’s not the devil, that you don’t have the stomach for it either, but she’s gone before you can muster your lies. When you turn back towards the bar he’s abandoned his Christmas lights blonde and is pouring drinks for a group of frat guys, checking I.D.s and making easy, charming conversation. He’s strange in that way, quiet and reserved by nature, which you know now because you know him, but he puts on a face in here, in Peli’s bar in front of the customers and the pretty girls and the people expecting him to perform for them, making nice and pleasant. It’s just one more thing that feeds your delusion, the fact that you see his smile for what it is, the too handsome, too shiny version you know isn’t the real one. 

You know that despite the fact that Bo loves you, she also thinks you’re a little sad, a lot weak, when it comes to him. Maybe even, and you know she’d never say this because she’s a good and loving friend, but maybe even a little pathetic or desperate. And maybe you are, or definitely, you don’t really care about the details of it at this point, but maybe there’s also something about him that’s slightly desperate too. Desperate for love or attention or companionship. Maybe that’s why he always feels the need to search for it in so many different places. Maybe he wants it so bad he’s scared of it. Or maybe he’s just easy. Maybe he’s just a whore. 

You don’t know if the why’s of it all really matter anymore. 

He serves the group their shots and beers, all of them clinking their glasses together loudly, hooting and wishing each other a Merry Christmas, and you want to snap that it’s not Christmas yet, it’s still the twenty third, it’s a special day that should be remembered, but you turn away. Try to swallow the heat in your face and throat, take deep breaths. Bo’s right, the two of you should go, but when you turn to search for her, she’s deep in conversation with the red head, gorgeous, strong and tall and just her type. Their two heads huddled closely together beneath the red lights that turn their hair both brighter shades of auburn. And you know you can’t interrupt. At least one of you should have a good night tonight. But when you turn back around, ready to join the frat bros in on their shots, he’s there. 

You swivel in your stool, catching yourself on the lip of the bar, digging your nails into the wood grain until it hurts, staring at him in silence. 

“What?” he asks with that slightly provoking smile he forces on you when he knows you’re bothered and refuse to open your stubborn mouth and just speak up. 

“Nothing.” Stubborn, sullen. Terrible.

He hums, laughter dancing in his eyes that pisses you off. He knows you’re bothered, knows you won’t say anything about it either. “Want another?”

“Sure.” You might as well get drunk if you’re going to have to watch him be a jackass all night long. 

He starts to move about, gathering the things for your cocktail. “You like the grenadine I added?”

“Yeah, it’s good.”

He looks at you with a half smile and a cocked brow as he measures the shot. He never makes your drinks as heavy handed as the others, says you’re a bad drunk. Whatever. “Yeah? You like the Christmas decorations?”

“They’re nice.” He hums again at your sullen tone. And you want to be nicer, happier, peppier, whatever it is that would be enough to make this all right and better between the two of you, inside of you, but you just can’t. You can’t force yourself into a shape that’s okay with being without him, and it’s getting harder and harder to pretend it’s something you’re capable of. 

He adds your two limes and tops the drink off with a Santa printed mini umbrella Peli had gotten an order of in bulk, pushing the glass into your hand. He braces his hands against the bar edge, watching you as you bring the drink up to taste, peering over the edge to keep your eyes on him. The lights twinkle over head, washing him in a glow of greens and reds and warmth, and his eyes do that terrible sparkle you hate in return. 

Sometimes you think he likes it when you’re pissy. Turns him on or something which sickly, stupidly, in turn, riles you up, knowing he’s turned on by your anger. 

You take a long pull of the fizzy, mildly sweet drink, licking your lips of the tang and bubbles when you pull it away, and watch as his eyes go a little hazy, glassed over as he watches the wet of your tongue peek out to lick up the drops of sweet liquor. You watch a swallow pass through the strong column of his throat, and his gaze is still on your mouth when he cocks his head at you. “C’mere,” he murmurs, eyes shifting to take in the crowd, the customers and the status of their drinks before he’s tugging at your hand over the bar, drawing you out of your seat and along the length of it from the other side. 

“To where?” You whisper at him, nerves of excitement, of want, fluttering in your belly and throat all fizzy and sweet. He tips his chin at the cracked open door of the stock room, the warm glow from within peering out, and then back again once over at the crowd before you’re at the end of the bar, and he’s tugging you inside after him. You tip your chin over your shoulder just before he kicks the door shut behind you, taking in Peli’s knowing look and the laughing shake of her head, and then it’s just the two of you. Hungry and hurried as he’s pulling you into himself, big hands immediately cupping your ass to tug you up into him with a cracked groan. “Want to fucking kiss you so bad,” he licks into your mouth, tasting like the coffee he drinks too much of and the cinnamon gum you know he’s always chewing. 

“Din–” and you’re about to protest, say that everyone’ll have seen the two of you come in here, Peli, the blonde Christmas light girl, that the whole bar is going to think he brought you in here for a quick fuck, but you and he both know you don’t really care if anyone thinks that. That probably, if you’re really honest, you’d be glad for everyone to think you’re his that way. So you kiss him back. Arms looping around his neck to hang off of him, fingers twining in the thick curls at the nape of his neck, the hair there so silky smooth, cool at the ends but warm and damp at the roots. And this is what you were talking about, when he kisses you like he loves you which makes you hate him. All tongue and teeth and desperation. His mouth sliding against yours, spit slick and heat heavy. Big hands kneading at your ass, clutching at the short skirt of your dress, pulling it up so he can shove his palm between the nylon of your tights and your warm skin and cup you over the wet mound of your cunt. 

“Fucking warm and soft for me, baby.” He kisses his way down your neck, licking at your cleavage, tugging at your ear. “You smell so good,” and he squeezes you against himself, dragging his palm back and forth over your pussy as best as the constricting tights let him. “I can’t wait to fuck you later.”

“Me either, Din,” you say because there’s nothing else to say besides, I love you. Please, love me back. He groans into your mouth, pressing you back into a little arc hooked over his arm, something frenzied and a little sloppy about the way he kisses you like he wants you so much he can’t control himself. And when the two of you stumble out a few minutes later, hair tousled and flushed with heat, the shine of your lipgloss transferred onto his own lips and those sparkly eyes of his cranked up to blinding so that the whole bar can see what it is the two of you have been up to in the stock room, there’s nothing but sweet, fizzy pleasure suffusing your belly. Even if it isn’t real, everyone else thinks it is, maybe for tonight that can be enough. 

-

“The tree’s really cute,” you say as he helps you out of your coat, unwrapping the scarf from around your neck, round and round until he lets it slither from his hand onto the messy floor of his bedroom. 

“Yeah, well, G wanted a real one so… my ass went out and got him a real one.” 

You reach up to card your fingers through the floppy curls falling over his forehead, pushing them back to twist in your fingers and pull his head down towards yours. “Good brother,” you murmur against his mouth. You want to ask him if he remembers what tonight is; wanted to ask him all night but kept your mouth shut for fear of that utterly vacant look in his eyes when he’d have no idea what you were talking about. 

He settles into your kiss, knees bent to come down to your level, sighing deep and long as he licks at you slowly, sucks on your bottom lips, a gentle nip. “Looked so pretty for me tonight,” he says, and he’s such a good kisser, and all you can say is a breathless thank you, trying to swallow the immediate lump in your throat back down because the only other thing to say would be you’re right, it’s all for you, or I hate it when you say these things to me, I hate it when you’re nice to me and then turn around and act like I’m a stranger, like I’ve never meant anything to you at all. You press up higher, insistent, on your tiptoes, trying to get closer, more of him. He runs his hands up the length of your spine, one arm banding around your waist, the other coming up to twist in your hair, tugging your head back sharply and pulling your mouth from his. 

“What do you want, sweet girl?”

And what a cruel, terrible question. You, is what you should say. Ruin the moment or the false magic, glass shattered on the white cloth. And so, “Fuck me,” is all you say instead because that’s all this is anyway. He peers down at you, fathomless look on his face, no more bright sparkle in his eyes, something more like an ember. You think you like this look better, it’s more for you, and there's something satisfying about that. 

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”

He pulls your clothes from you slowly, and he can be so tender sometimes, slow and precise in the things he does, the way he moves. Sometimes he fucks you hard and fast and sloppy. But not always. Other times he does it in a way that is much, much worse. Slow and deep and intentional. He lays you out across his messy bed and spreads you open for himself. Starts at your feet, kissing the soles and the creases and marks over the arches and around your ankles from your tights and boots. Up the slope of your calf, teeth dragging sharply, a little too hard over the muscle. He kisses the backs of your knees, a place only he has ever thought to kiss, and you won’t cry, but you’d like to. His tongue along the soft of your thighs, stubble chafing and tickling, and when he finally gets to your cunt, soaking wet, glossy with your slick for him, his tongue drags up your slit slow and teasing one second, deep, fucking inside of you the next. He makes you come on his face twice before he even thinks of being nice and letting up. Sucking on your clit, taking each soft lip gentle, gentle between the edge of his teeth and tugging so soft you almost don’t feel it. He licks and licks and slurps up your wet, and you know he enjoys this because of his own sounds. When he rips his t-shirt over his head because he’s steaming with sweat and want, the zip of his jeans ringing so that he can get his fist around his cock and jack himself while he licks up the splash of your second orgasm. 

He kisses you everywhere when he’s had his fill, twists and turns you this way and that, groping and kneading and taking every inch of you in so that no spot of skin is left uninspected or untasted. Pulls you up and under his arm so he can peer down at you from behind, lemme look at that little asshole now, he says all nasty the way he gets sometimes, and spreads your cheeks apart. You brace yourself against the column of his throat and hold on to the bulge of his bicep and try and breathe through your mouth and pray for control and temperance and the will to not spill all your truths to him. Difficult, when he manhandles you like this, when he pets and licks and kisses you all over and tells you how pretty all your holes are for him. 

His cock is so hard when he finally settles on his knees between your spread thighs, on your back again so that you can see his pulse in the tiny, subtle beat of his erection as it stands up, curving towards his flat belly. No condom, and you want to say thank you for letting you feel him like this. 

He pushes your knees wide and grips his cock, twisting his fist around the sticky glossed head, flushed red almost purple. You love it when he’s this hard, when you know it’s all for you, when you know you’re the only one in this moment that can fix it for him. 

“Get it wet for me,” he nods his head at your slick cunt, parted and bared to him just like he likes. You dip your fingers into the well of wetness, play in it, watch the shiny string of slick stretch between your pussy and fingers, and no one makes you as wet or as desperate as he does, and like he can read your mind he tells you, no one makes me as hard as you do, and you do not tell him that that isn’t something you want to hear, that that isn’t something that makes you feel good. The reminder that there are others. 

You wrap your slippery fingers around his cock, coating him in yourself and when you pull him towards you, notching him at the mouth of your cunt, and finally – finally, I’ve been waiting for this all night, and you can’t even tell who says it – it’s so fucking good that all the rest of it is worth it for this singular feeling right here. 

He pushes in, in, in, heavy balls pressed against the wet curve of your bottom, and you’re so soaked it’s slid down between your ass, marked his sheets with you, swings his hips back all smooth and wet and shoves back inside. His mouth is at your tits, folded over you, caging you in, biting and sucking on bare, tight nipples he tells you belong to him, cunt he fucks hard and deep he tells you also belongs to him.

He pulls an ankle up over his shoulder, changes the angle and drills into you hard and fast, other knee hooked over his elbow so you’re pressed and folded and presented to him just how he likes and needs, and he makes you say his name over and over, tells you exactly how he wants you to come on his cock just for him. His pelvis bumps your clit on every push forward, too thick cock wedged inside your cunt so that you’re stretched around him and no matter how many times you do this, it always hurts just a little. Like everything else the two of you do together. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans. “You take it so fucking good. Don’t come yet– don’t come. With me– wait for me. I want it together.” And you do cry at that, when he changes the angle once more and shoves in hard against your g-spot, the fat tip of his cock punching against it over and over so that there’s heat pooling at the base of your spine, stars flashing behind your closed lids, your breasts going hot and heavy and tight, stomach clenching with the effort to stave off your orgasm and do as he asks. He breathes into your mouth, and it’s all hot and damp skin and your sweaty limbs sliding against each other, open mouth to open mouth. 

“Now,” he says, pulls you onto him deeper with a tight grip on your ass, long fingers wrapped over the curve so that he can feel the wet, stretched place where he takes you, makes you his. “Take the whole fucking thing,” he whispers against your lips, and as your cunt goes tight as a knot, painful in that way that only he can make it, that’s so good, that way that always keeps you coming back for more, you finally start to cry real tears. Not just from his cock but from the whole of him, from everything he does to you. Your heart beats fast, fast, fast, and you count the days in the month til your period, the little game you like to play with yourself when the two of you are bad like this, and then decide you don’t really give a fuck as he starts to fill you with the heat of his come.

He stays inside of you for too long after the last throb of his cock. Rubbing his lips all over your neck and shoulders and tits, tasting you and giving you too much time to memorize the pattern and cadence of his breathing. And when he pulls out and pulls back to look at the slick, puffy sight of your cunt full of his come, he bends to lick you clean like he always does. Gives you one more orgasm, the last nail in the coffin or your heart. 

Sated and spent, you glance at the clock, and it’s officially Christmas Eve. You know he goes all out for Grogu, milk and cookies for Santa, stockings and gifts, the works. He is an exceptionally good brother, all a child could need in a father figure, and there had never really been any chance of you doing anything else besides loving him. 

When you pull the gift from your bag, heart in your throat and halfway to regret but more resolve than you’ve ever had in his presence, you tell yourself that if this brings on the end of everything, that you’ll find a way to be okay with it. If you’ve gone too far, done too much, you’ll accept it, count your losses, and what great losses they’ll surely be, but you’ll move on as best you can. 

You’d picked some pretty, baby blue paper with little red robins on it, a soft gold ribbon tied around the package. The sight of it makes you want to cry. You’d tried so hard, you really had. 

He’s quiet when you put it into his hands, staring down at it like it’ll reach out and bite his head off if he blinks even once. Swallowing several times before he says, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know. It’s– it’s for the both of you, kind of.” Him and his little brother.

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“No– that’s okay. I know. You didn’t have to.” Your voice comes out all breathless and full of nerves. You should’ve put your clothes on before you did this, made for a quicker, easier get away if necessary. 

He pulls the wrapping apart slowly, gently untying your ribbon, long fingers carefully picking at the little pieces of tape at each end so that he doesn’t tear the paper and disturb the robins. 

“Where did you get this?” He says when he’s finally unwrapped it, his voice telling you instantly that you’ve made a terrible mistake. 

“It– it was in your drawer. I–”

“You went through my stuff?” He says, eyes snapping up to yours, finally looking away from the photograph you’d copied and framed for him. A picture of him and Grogu and his parents. Grogu, a baby, Din, a boy of maybe eight, gap toothed, cheesy grin and messy curls between his smiling parents. They looked, very much, like a deliriously happy family, and you’d thought it such a shame it was stuffed in his sock drawer when you’d found it, left to be forgotten. You’d only wanted to do something nice for him. 

“N–no. I mean… not intentionally. I was looking for my extra clothes – the ones you told me to leave here – and I–” your lashes flutter, overwhelmed. He suddenly looks so angry. “I saw it in your drawer. I didn’t mean– I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, I–” You don’t know what to say. All of your falsely held control in tatters at your feet and tears in your eyes as you take in the horrible look on his face. Shocked, angry, hurt, but his gaze leaves the photograph again, shifts back to your face at the crack in your voice. 

He presses forward, as if to reach for you, realizing you’re about to cry. “It’s fine.” I’m sorry, Din, you murmur again. “It’s just–” He shakes his head, a frustrated noise in his throat, his voice all graveled and cracked like yours. He seems so much like a boy in this moment. A child confronted by a past he was too young to lose when he did, forced into the shape of a man too soon. “You know that this–we–” He motions between the two of you.

“Yes. I do,” you cut him off quickly. Assuming what he’s going to cut down here between the two of you before he gets the words out. He doesn’t need to say it, not out loud. He doesn’t need to be that cruel. The strength it takes the both of you to bite your tongues in that moment, as you take each other in, swells to a near painful pressure, and there is something so sick here between the two of you. His eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him. 

“Thank you,” he finally says quietly, and you can’t answer, looking away out at the dark night through his murky paneled window. It looks like it’s about to snow, all the ingredients for a perfect Christmas at play. The room is so warm and his bed is so comfortable, and you feel so full of fragile and soft things inside. “You’re going to see your family tomorrow?” He still has the picture frame in his hands, fingers smoothing methodically over the edges, thumb swiping gently over the happy faces inside. 

You clear your throat, “Yeah, tonight. I’m going to my parents house, spending the night there.” And it’s on the tip of your tongue to invite the both of them to come too. You know your parents would love to have them, you would love to have them there, him, but the words stick in your throat with the fear of his rejection, and the two of you fizzle awkwardly into a heavy silence. 

You look out at the window again, too much of a coward to look into those bright eyes, but you can feel his gaze on you, singing the side of your face, and suddenly you feel him scoot over towards you. Deep sigh, dragging the duvet with him, wrapped around his bare shoulders all messy hair and flushed cheeks still steaming from your sex. No one should look like he does. No one. It’s the most unfair thing that’s ever happened to you in your whole life. He grips you around the bend of your bare knee, pulls you halfway into his lap, and your eyes are still fixated out on the night, the dark much safer than anything that lives inside this room.

“You remember when we met?” He says. The tears are back. “It was tonight.” Two years ago.

You tip your chin at the window. “At the restaurant…”

“...Down on eighty seventh street. Two years ago.”

“Yes.” You finally look at him. “I remember,” you whisper. Your mouth feels so dry, your heart so flinty.  

“The place had all those string lights put up, and we sat at that table outside in the back behind that group having their Christmas work party. You remember?” Of course you do. You only can't believe he remembers. He’d been wearing an olive green half zip sweater, and he’d smelled of laundry detergent and whiskey and cinnamon gum when he’d kissed you for the first time. 

“I had the best old fashioned I’ve ever had at that place. We should go back. And it was so cold, you remember? You never stopped shivering.”

“Yes, Din. I remember.”

“That was a good night.”

“Sure it was,” and it comes out with a bite you can’t help, for so many reasons you can and cannot explain. 

He gives one of those non committal hums he loves to provoke you with, that little glint back in his eyes. “Sure it was? What?”

“Nothing.”

“Is there something you wanna talk about?” The white elephant in the room, come to ruin everything, shatter all the glass, disturb the dust in your hair and break your heart. 

He tips your head back by your chin, two fingers holding you there, never letting you go. You shake your head at him caught up in his grasp like that. “No. I don’t want to talk about anything.”

And he gives you the strangest look, and for one second you wonder suddenly if that look you’ve always taken as provoking is not so much teasing, but more pleading, more knowing. “No…” he says, chews on his thoughts, strong, scruffy jaw with the heart shaped patch moving side to side. “I know you don’t,” and leans forward to press one single soft, chaste kiss to your open mouth. “You know what you are?” He says then, and the look is now entirely unknowable, confusing. 

Your eyes flick back to the window. “What?” Back to him again, breathless. 

“You’re my girl.” And out of the corner of your eye, you can see that there, finally, is the Christmas snow.

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[fettuccin-e]

A Kind of Demon

Kinktober Day 3: Monster AU

Tags: Din Djarin x Reader, Incubus!Din Djarin, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv, Din has a demon dick lol, force sex? yeah pretty much, fingering, overstimulation, making up my own demon lore as I go (w/c: 1.7K)

A/N: SO I have never, ever written something like this so this was way way out of my comfort zone, but I wanted to try it out! I really like incubus!Din, so I might come back to him again, who knows. Din does have like "force powers" in this, but since it's not the Star Wars universe, it's just like demon magic lol. (I am using prompts from this list by flightlessangelwings!)

You should be terrified of the power he has over you. 

You’d hadn’t meant to summon someone like him, something other. He looks vaguely human, or is just human-shaped, but he’s covered in a dark, metallic armor that makes him seem more mythical than man. And the power he exudes cannot be explained as anything other than supernatural. 

He calls himself a Mandalorian, a word that seems made up, not of this world. It’s a type of demon, he tells you, his sentences controlled and short, the type that you’d summoned. A kind of incubus.

“I didn’t summon a fucking demon!” you yell, throwing object after object at him, anything you can find. They bounce off of his dark armor, and he stands stock still, unfeeling and utterly monstrous. He says your name in a way that has your knees buckling on the spot, from fear, of course. 

“I have been summoned to you, whether intentional, or unintentional. Your unconscious needs have brought me to you, and I cannot leave until my duty has been fulfilled.” His voice is clear and deep through the metal helmet shielding his face, and try as you might to peer into the dark visor, all you can see is nothingness.

“What does an incubus even do?” you shout, throwing your hands into the air. He chuckles in a truly demonic way, terrifying and somehow endlessly charming.

“Are you lonely, little one?” he said, stepping forward and looming over you like a fucking predator. You don’t answer, staring straight ahead into his armored chest, lips pursed. Why the fuck would he have to know that? Your, frankly terrible, sex life is none of his business.

His gloved hand reaches forward to nudge your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, even though you can’t see his eyes.

“All of these needs, trapped in your pretty little head, I can feel them. I can see them. Fantasizing in the dark night after night with your fingers in your pussy, desperate for someone to take care of you. I can see everything you want, and I can do it for you. I can take care of you, little one.” You swallow, harsh and painful, like sandpaper down your throat.

Your pussy soaks through your panties as he murmurs darkly into your ear. “You only need to say yes, girl, and I will make you feel so, so good.”

Your head swims, your knees weak and your body aching as you whisper a yes.

God, you should be terrified. Terrified of the way he takes control so easily. How, with only a touch, he makes your clothes vanish like nothing, leaving you bare to his invisible eyes. You should be scared for your life at the way you can feel his power all around you, touching every inch of your shaking body, pressing you backward to lay on your bed. Instead, your pussy leaks between your quaking thighs. A force, his force, you realize, invisible and yet so solid it might as well be his hands, strokes across your body, against your throbbing clit. A choked moan rips its way out of your throat. 

“That’s right girl, let me take care of you,” he murmurs, looming over you as he steps forward to kneel on the bed. “I can take any form you want, just tell me. Is there someone you desire?”

Oh. You’d hadn’t realized it was an option, for him to take the shape of someone else. He could be anything, you realized, a crush, a celebrity, even yourself. The realization makes you stock still, wracking your brain for someone, anyone. But looking up at him, with his dark visor and broad chest, God, you don’t want him to be anyone else. Just the sheer sight of him has you desperate enough.

“No,” you breathe, a little too eagerly. “No, this- this is fine.”

He pauses. All of him, his chest, his mouth, the force he has enveloping you. You both stare at each other, stock still and silent. And then, he moves. 

He’s got you turned over on your sheets in seconds, your face pressed into the mattress as he hikes your hips up. You clutch desperately at the sheets as he sinks two thick fingers into you, gloriously human but somehow not human at all. There’s no way he could be human when he finds that spot so deep inside, the spot that you can barely reach half the time, immediately.

“Holy- holy fucking shit, oh fuck,” you choke on your moans as he grinds the pads of his fingers into you, sending lightning ricocheting up your spine. Your hips twitch back into his hand without your permission, desperate for the kind of touch you haven’t experienced in so long.

“That’s it, girl, take what you need from me,” he growls, fucking his fingers into you at a pace that is truly obscene. His force surrounds you, a warmth that cannot be explained in earthly terms. It ghosts across your nipples, surrounding them and pulling on them in a way that brings tears to your eyes. It moves down and presses hard on your clit, flicking across it in a way that feels like a fucking tongue. You can’t hold back the way you scream.

He sinks another finger into you, stretching you out more than you have been in months, years. Maybe I have needed this, you think. Maybe I did summon him.

He leans over you, close enough that he is able to murmur directly into your ear, “Think you can take my cock, little one?”

The whine you let out is downright embarrassing. “Please.”

You glance behind yourself, to where the Mandalorian has his thick fingers buried deep in your cunt, to where he’s pulling out his cock with the other hand. That, for the first time, is distinctly inhuman. His cock is huge, so big that you have a brief thought about it splitting you in two, right down the middle. Rigid bumps run down his length, and the tip is thick, leaking, and oh shit, you want him in your mouth, you want him in your pussy, you want him fucking everywhere. 

“Fuck me,” you whine, and the demon chuckles. 

“Do you really think you can take me, girl?” He growls.

“I wanna try, oh please, please, I need it, ah-” he cuts off your whining by ripping his fingers out of you, leaving you empty and gaping. It doesn’t last very long before he notches the head of his cock against your entrance and pushes.

The stretch seems fucking endless. You can only clutch the pillows and sob as he breaks you apart on his thick cock, reaching so deep you swear you can feel him in your fucking lungs. It should hurt, God it should hurt, but his force only makes you relax as he pulls you back onto him. You feel dizzy with it, the way that force keeps licking maddeningly at your clit, pulling at your nipples while the biggest cock you’ve ever had settles deep inside.

You cum. Just from the way he sinks into you, fills you like you’ve always been empty, and you’ve only been missing him all your life. You writhe against the sheets, clutching at your pillow as you convulse around his cock. It’s debilitating, destructive, and all you can think of is how much you need more.

“It’s- oh fuck, it’s- I can’t,” you sob over your words, tears leaking down your cheeks, but you can’t help but press back into his body, trying to get him as deep as possible.

The demon snarls, using a thick hand to reach forward and grab your wrists together, pinning them to the small of your back. He pulls his hips back, slowly, so slow that you can feel every bump drag endlessly over your walls, before he drives back into you so hard the breath is knocked out of your lungs, the tip grinding deep into that spot he’s able to find so easily.

Then, the Mandalorian fucks you. No, fucking is too gentle. There is no earthly term to describe how he destroys you in a way that is so pure, so primal. He holds onto your wrists and drags you back onto his cock with every thrust, keeping you at his mercy while you can only moan and cry as he rips you apart into a million little pieces. You feel like a bitch in heat, getting fucked like that is all you’re meant to do. The demon uses you like a fucking toy, his force sucking at your abused little clit endlessly.

You can hear little grunts escaping his mouth with every thrust, tiny uh, uh, uhs that have your head spinning. You’re pretty sure you’re drooling, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when this man, this demon, is fucking you within an inch of your life, ruining you for anyone, anything else.

Your pussy makes obscene noises around him, echoing throughout the room as your headboard smacks hard against the wall. You can barely even make a noise anymore, overwhelmed sobs forcing their way out of your throat every time he reaches deep, deep into your body. 

“I can feel you clenching for me. Are you going to cum for me again?” He growls. “Go on then, little girl, make a mess of yourself.”

Your mouth opens in a silent scream as you squeeze tight around his cock, your body trembling in his hold. He fucks you through it, prolonging it, and it’s too much, it’s too fucking much. Your vision blurs, your head light and fuzzy, and you can only gasp wetly as the world blinks into darkness.

As your eyes blink open again, you’re warm. Your sheets feel clean, smelling of lavender and chamomile, and your room is blissfully, astonishingly quiet. You sit up in bed, a twinge going through your arms, and you nearly scream as you look across the room to see the Mandalorian standing still in your doorway, unmoving.

“Are you alright, girl?” he says, like he hadn’t just ripped you apart in every way that matters.

“Uh,” you cross your arms over yourself, feeling strangely vulnerable. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

He nods, once. “Good. My duties have been fulfilled.” He doesn’t let you get a word in.

You blink, and the Mandalorian is gone.

[jake-g-lockley]

Heyyy would you please do prompt 2 and (or) 9 with din? <3

Twisted Vows (Din Djarin x reader) 

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Wanna be Tagged?

Prompt: head or shoulder massages, lover’s sick habit ie being too stubborn to let someone else help

A/N: Thanks for the ask lovely!!! DIN SICK FIC!! Please, this tin can is so stubborn, I bet he’s a real hard headed dummy when he is sick. But, ofc we love our Din &lt;3

Warnings: Allusions to sex, Din taking off the helmet, the creed being a real bitch to real life things like sickness, vomiting. 

Word count: 1.6 k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Your eyes sparkled as you looked at the fruits before you, smiling at the shopkeeper. Your Din loved fruits but he never asked for them, he never asked for anything. Before he met you, he would often go days without eating, hopping around from planet to planet in a wild nomadic frenzy. Things only got worse when Grogu made his appearance, Din ate sparingly and gave most of his food to his baby. You loved cooking food, and you loved it when you had someone to feed. 

When you appeared, you gave Din the chance to love food again, to slowly grow into the shell he hunched in after becoming a Mandalorian. He always had shown you his grumpy exterior but you clearly knew about his soft interior. You’d only see his soft side whenever he would take care of his son and more recently, when he would take care of you.

Once you were happy with your groceries you made your slow walk back to your hut, picking some flowers along the way for your flower vase. You opened the ramp to the Crest and were about to slip your shoes off and placed them beside Din’s chunky boots when a peculiar sight caught your eyes.

Your partner’s helmet somehow had grown a pair of green arms and was waddling towards your direction, a spoon in one green claw. You smiled down at your little green monster, wondering where Din might be if his helmet was walking around the house. 

Your answer came almost immediately when you heard loud footsteps followed by a gruff “COVER YOUR EYES!”

You squeezed your eyes shut and heard Grogu giggling as he ran away from his dad. 

“Hey Din! Catch!” you unfurled your scarf and threw it blindly. 

“You can open your eyes now.” you opened one eye to see the big burly man in lounge clothes with your scarf around his face. 

You set your groceries aside and scooped up the thieving babbling toddler, pulling Din’s helmet off to reveal Grogu’s cute face, a loud sigh coming from the man before you . 

“Baby, what did we say about taking your Papa’s helmet?” you gently chastise, kissing his forehead gently as Din stomped towards you, stretching his arms out for his helmet. As Din got closer, you realised something was wrong. He was breathing weirdly, not his usual controlled breathing and his back was hunched slightly. He turned and gagged into his elbow, followed by a weak cough.

“Oh Din, are you okay?” you worriedly questioned, stretching your free arm out to feel his exposed neck but Din stepped back.

You narrowed your eyes at him and Din’s eyes widened under the scarf. 

You whispered “do the thing” into Grogu’s ear and he immediately raised his hand, causing Din to lurch forward and collide with you. 

“Not fair.” Din mumbled in defeat as you touched his neck.

“Din, you’re running a fever, that's it, back to bed or I’m hiding your helmet.” you say sternly.

“Fine, can I have my helmet back first?” he mumbled under the scarf and you nodded, shutting your eyes again as he removed the scarf from his face, dropping it onto his son’s face.

You opened your eyes as soon as you heard the hiss of his helmet and Grogu squealing under the scarf. You tutted angrily at the both of them as Din hung his head.

“Stop having beef with your own child, tin can.” you scolded the overgrown child in front of you, pulling the scarf off Grogu’s head. “Go to your room, I’ll come back with some stuff for you.”

You stared into his visor as you kissed the top of Grogu’s head again. The Mandalorian sauntered off, not before mumbling something under his breath. You smiled as you caught the last bit of his sentence.

“I’m the one who is sick but he gets all the kisses.”

You shook your head and bent down to place Grogu in his bassinet before taking your groceries to the tiny kitchen. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Din tried to lay back and forget how his body was hurting all over. He groaned as he clutched his tummy, quickly slipping his helmet on before running out of his room. You watch worriedly as Din dashes past you and makes a beeline to the refresher.

You hear him emptying the contents of his stomach and your heart ached at the small whimper that accompanied the retching when there was nothing left for him to throw up. 

“Din, sweetheart?” you called as you stood outside the refresher. “You have your helmet on?” 

A small grunt of confirmation makes you throw the door open and you drop to your knees beside the Mandalorian who was now curled against the metal wall. Behind all of his pain, Din’s heart swelled with your respect towards his creed. He wanted to tell you what plagued his head and heart but all he could do was gag.

“Oh Din, maybe I should just leave, I-i don’t know what to do, I can’t help you if you don’t have your helmet off.” you say, your eyes brimming with tears. 

“I don’t know what to do either.” he whispered.

You laid down on the cold floor and curled up, facing Din, taking his hand in yours, an idea sparking in your mind. 

“Shall I suggest something really stupid then?” you say as Din’s mind calmed slightly at your touch. 

He grunted and you took a deep breath. 

“Marry me.” you whisper and through the fog of pure sickness, Din Djarin stares at you as if you were the craziest woman in the galaxy. 

“What?”

“You heard me. Marry me, then I can take care of you.” you say, placing a hand on his helmet, where his cheek would be. 

“You’re crazy.”

“And you’re sick.”

“Fuck.” Din had so much to argue about marrying him. 

He definitely was not a match for you, no matter how much his heart yearned for you, no matter how badly he wanted all of you to be his. 

“Din, I swear on my name and the names of the Ancestors, that I should walk the way of our love and the words that my heart sings shall be forever forged between us.” you say clearly, twisting the words of the creed that Din had used before dipping himself in the Living Waters. “You better agree before you throw up in that helmet, Djarin.”

Din slowly sits up and takes your hands, placing it under his helmet and letting you push it off to reveal his face. You stared in shock, not realising that he would be this pretty, despite being sick as a dog.

“Heya, husband.” you whisper as you run a finger down his nose, watching as his eyes flutter close. 

Din swallows and blinks, focusing on your face. Your fingers trace his lips, the ones you’ve had on you before in frantic times when you and Din’s desperations tipped over and the both of you lost control. 

“Your husband is gonna throw up all over you if you don’t move.” he croaked out and you shifted as Din bent over the bowl and retched. 

You rubbed the small of his back and whispered softly to him as he coaxed his stomach to relax. It took you a while to get the dizzy Din to get up from the refresher floor and lead him to his room. You pushed him down and handed him a pill that would calm his tummy, before slowly feeding him fruit that you had cut up for him.

Din could not express anything he was feeling, and he just accepted your unrequited love that you shoved at him. His eyes were downcasted after a while and you realised that he might not be used to someone seeing his face this long.

“Just yell for me if you need anything.” you said before standing to get up, but Din yanked you down despite being the weakest you’ve ever seen him.

“C-could you stay a while?” he whispered, his thumb gently tracing your wrist. 

You smiled and pushed his curls away from his forehead, making his eyes flutter close. 

“Of course.” you assured with a smile.

Din twitched awkwardly and you eyed him, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Is something hurting?” 

“Nah.” he croaked out after a long pause.

“You can’t lie to me, I’m your-”

“Wife, yea got it.” he huffed  and scowled, making you giggle. “My head and neck are a little uncomfortable.”

You nod knowingly. 

“Can you turn over?” you ask and Din hesitated before shaking his head.

You thought his stomach was still making him uncomfortable but in reality, Din just wanted to look at your face. 

You sat on the bed and crossed your legs, laying his head onto your legs. He looked up at you with big eyes, and you skimmed your knuckles across his warm skin. 

You begin with his temples slowly kneading them with your fingers until a soft sigh escapes his lips. 

“A little h-higher?” 

“Of course, love.” 

Din loved it when you called him that. He was your love, your only love, maybe second to Grogu, but he was yours. That reminded him…

“When I get better, I’ll tell you the proper vows.” he whispered, and you blink down at him before realising what he was talking about.

“Oh-”

“Yea, we’re definitely breaking the creed here, but I don’t care. I-i’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time…” he said before taking a deep breath.

“Shh, I know.” you whispered, placing a finger on his lips. 

Din couldn’t help but smile. Despite knowing that you knew, he wanted to hear himself say it.

“I love you, my riduur.” he says as his eyes became heavier by the way you were gently pushing all of his pain away.

“I love you too, Din Djarin.” you whispered as he drifted off to sleep, placing a lingering kiss onto his forehead and smiling down at him. 

Reblogs are appreciated~~~~

Taglist: @fandxmslxt69 @joygirlmelii @wolfbook87 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @minigirl87 @alexxavicry @marygraceee @lia275 @euphoricosmo @violet-19999 @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @bubblezuku

[beskarandblasters]

breeding kink with din? I know that man would be feral and on his knees my brain goes brr when I think about it

Carry My Warriors

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Summary: After getting married and settling into your new home on Nevarro, Din discovers he has a new kink.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: reader is able/bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), established relationship, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, breeding kink, creampie, some nipple play, slight lactation kink if you squint, use of Mando’a words (cyar’ika = sweetheart, mesh’la = beautiful, riduur = spouse), no use of y/n

You’re just settling into your new home with Din on Nevarro. The past few days have been a blur. The Mandalorians reclaimed Mandalore and you were absolutely sure that’s where Din wanted to settle down with you and Grogu. But shortly after your wedding ceremony Din told you that the three of you were leaving for Nevarro. 

“But… why? You just reclaimed Mandalore… Isn’t this where you wanted to live? you asked, as he prepared the Razor Crest for takeoff. 

“At one point yes but now that we’re a family… I think we should live elsewhere… Karga’s got a place for us there.”

“Really?” you asked, in disbelief that you’re going to have an actual place to call home with Din. 

“Yes, cyar’ika,” he said, turning around and grabbing your hands, “A place for us to be a real family.”

You nodded and felt the happy tears spring in your eyes. He squeezed your hands and went back to preparing the ship. You scooped Grogu into your arms and leaned back in your chair, watching Mandalore get smaller underneath you as you left. You left the treacherous atmosphere and entered space, before Din made the jump to lightspeed. You closed your eyes and tried to imagine your new life together on Nevarro. Your stoic tin man could be a real softie sometimes. 

That was several days ago. You’ve been spending your first few days back on Nevarro settling into your new home; a small house on the outskirts of town. Complete with a pond full of frogs in the front for Grogu. You’re in yours and Din’s bedroom (still a strange concept to you; a real bedroom for the two of you) decorating when you feel Din’s presence behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and your neck flush against his chest. 

See, Din has a small problem that he hasn’t told you about yet… Becoming your riduur and this new, domestic life on Nevarro unlocked something within him. And realized he wants nothing more than you on your back, legs spread open for him with his cock buried in your cunt, pumping you full of his cum. 

You’ll be doing dishes in the kitchen, hips swaying as you hum yourself. And Din will watch you and think about how he could grab your hips, bend you over the sink and take you right there. Or you’ll be on the couch, in your pajamas, reading something on your holo-pad. He’ll notice the way your soft thighs are pressed against each other in your pajama shorts. 

But the worst is when you hop in the refresher together and he’ll see the way the water beads up on your tits and the way you lather them up with soap. His mind goes elsewhere and he thinks about them full of milk and how sore you’ll be and how you’ll need help relieving the tension and oh Maker, he’s got it bad. 

These are the kinds of things he thinks about while he strokes his cock when he’s alone in the refresher or next to you in bed after you’ve fallen asleep. He’s hesitant to tell you about his new fantasy because he’s not sure how you’ll react. You’ve never talked in depth about the possibility of having kids together. But now that you have a stable place to live it’s all he can think about; living a quiet life with you and watching you grow round with his child. It’s all he wants. And you find out about it by accident. 

You’re on your back, thighs spread apart and legs hooked over Din’s shoulders. His helmet is off and you’re looking deep into each other’s eyes. He tears them away for a second to gaze down at your tits which are bouncing deliciously with each of his thrusts and imagines them full of milk. And he’s gone, bursting his load into you in complete bliss. 

“Kriff, Din,” you gasp. 

He’s pulled out of his daze. “Hmm, what is it, cyar’ika?”

“You came inside me! I don’t have an implant, remember?”

“Oh… sorry,” he says, sheepishly. 

“It’s alright. I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you sigh. 

He kisses you and whispers another apology against your lips. You can’t stay mad at him for too long. 

After your little afternoon delight, you decide to get dinner started. Grogu’s down for a nap. You’re standing at the kitchen counter cutting vegetables, feeling Din’s release slowly seep out of you. And to be honest… you don’t hate the feeling. 

Din went into town to grab a few more things for dinner. He spent the rest of the afternoon replaying that moment in his head; the moment he came inside you for the first time. And now he doesn’t think he could go without that feeling. He arrives home, sees you at the kitchen counter and his eyes immediately gravitate towards your waist. He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. You stop cutting vegetables and lean into his touch. 

“I have to tell you something,” he says softly. 

“What is it?” you ask, turning to face him and gazing up into his visor. 

“...I want a baby with you, cyar’ika.”

Your mouth falls open. This is so sudden. And you’ve never talked about kids of your own before. 

“Oh, Din. I don’t… I don’t know,” you say, truly confused. 

“Please, cyar’ika,” Din begs, falling to his knees. He rests the bottom of his helmet against your thigh, visor peering up at you with what you can imagine are the most pleading eyes under the helmet. One of his hands caresses your thigh and you sigh. 

“You’ll look so pretty carrying my warriors.”

“Is this really what you want?”

“More than anything.”

“Okay,” you nod. 

He couldn’t drag you to the bedroom fast enough. He pulls you from the kitchen and into your bedroom. He pushes you down on the bed gently and starts pulling off your pants. 

“What about dinner?” you ask. 

“We can eat later,” he says hastily, removing his armor piece by piece.

You giggle and sit up to take off your shirt. You hear the hiss of the modulator and look over at him, never getting enough of the sight of his face. He looks over at you with the hungriest expression on his face while he slips off his flight suit. You lay down on your back and Din hovers over you, bringing his hand to the inside of your thigh, trailing it up to your cunt. You spread your legs for him and let him stroke your entrance gently. 

“I’m gonna take good care of you, cyar’ika,” he purrs.

You moan in response as brings his head to your cunt, licking a slow stripe up it. Your hands find his hair and tug on it a little, begging for more. He swirls his tongue around your clit in a rhythmic motion. He hums into you, sending vibrations through your core. He hooks his arms around your thighs and brings you closer against his face. You moan at the new and more intense sensation. You feel your core tightening in anticipation of a big release. With one last lap of his tongue you’re coming against his face, soaking the lower half of it completely. Pleasure washes over you in erratic waves as you ride out your high. Din laps up every last drop of your fluids before commenting on how good you taste. 

“You taste so good, mesh’la,” he murmurs before bringing his face by yours. He kisses you as he looks gathers your wetness in his hand, spreading it on his cock. He gives it a few strokes before aligning himself with your entrance. He enters you slowly and sighs at the sensation of your warm, wet cunt enveloping his cock. You hold your breath as he stretches your walls. He buries himself at the hilt, the head of his cock rubbing against your cervix. You exhale and relax as you expand to his size, feeling completely full. He places your legs on his shoulders and leans forward, folding you in half into a mating press. You moan at the deeper angle of his cock and feel tears spring in your eyes. 

“It’s so big, Din,” you whine.

“Yeah, you like that, mesh’la? Want me to fuck a baby into you just like this?” 

You moan in response, too cock drunk to form complete sentences. He chuckles and picks up the pace, driving his length into you with more force. He notices your tits bounce with each slam of his hips and reaches to suck on one of them, releasing your nipple with a loud pop. He moves to your other nipple and does the same thing; lick and suck at it until it becomes a stiff peak in his mouth. He pulls his head back and he gazes down at you with loving eyes, bringing one hand to the side your face and caressing your cheek. You feel yourself arrive at the brink of orgasm, core tightening as the pleasure stirs in your stomach. You come undone around him, moaning loudly as your orgasm overtakes you. Your cunt clenches him like a vice bringing him to the edge, too. He fucks you through your release which prolongs it further but he feels his balls tighten and he knows he’s about to cum. 

“Cum in me, Din. Fill me up,” you pant.

Those words pull his orgasm from him in an instant, coating your insides with his cum. The tip of his cock is tucked into your cervix, pulsating against it. He comes with a loud groan and closes his eyes in bliss before pumping into you with a few more strokes until he goes soft. He stays inside you, keeping you plugged with his cum. He kisses you and whispers, “Thank you, cyar’ika. I’ll take such good care of you when you’re carrying my warrior.”

You kiss him back and whisper, “I know you will, Din.” 

You stay there like that for a while with him still inside you until you hear Grogu waking up from his nap and fussing in his room. He pulls out of you reluctantly and starts to get dressed. You go to get dressed, too, wanting to resume dinner but he stops you. 

“Rest, riduur. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Okay,” you sigh. 

Sure he wants you to rest… but you’re also certain that he wants you to lay down to ensure all of his cum stays inside you. You get the feeling that you’re not going to be leaving this bed for a long time, not until he’s absolutely sure his seed has taken and you’re carrying his baby. You’re not complaining though. 

End note: This request has been sitting in my inbox for two months now, I am the worst 🫣

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[devils-dares]

Head to Bed

summary: nodding off on the razor crest

pairing: din djarin x gn!reader

wordcount: 438

warnings: none

a/n: my first din djarin fic! this was inevitable with @galaxysgal convincing me to watch the mandalorian and putting up with all of my shitty star wars questions.

comments and reblogs appreciated!

-----

Hyperspace was calming. It was quiet and calm and even flying through space without any pirates or looters was calm. You’d been sitting in the Razor Crest next to Din, who was currently flying the craft. You were beginning to nod off, catching yourself before your chin dropped too low.

Din was watching as you tried your best to fight the slumber, smiling under the mask as you snapped awake again. He waited a few more minutes until you actually fell asleep, leaning on the side wall, to wake you.

You felt a hand on your thigh, eyes opening to find the beskar helmet staring back at you.

“Head to bed,” he says, “I can fly for a while, take the kid.”

“I don’t want you to be here up alone, we’re about to go through open space.”

“Just for a little bit, I need to stop for fuel, and then we’ll be right back on our path.”

“Din-”

“I will be fine,” he presses, “look, the kid’s snoring in your arms, head to bed.” You look down to find him drooling on your shirt, ears drooped down in his slumber.

“Okay,” you give in, truly too tired to argue, “but you have to promise to wake me if you need some rest, or if you meet anyone giving you any issues.” He laughs.

“I know how scary you can get.”

“I’m serious.”

“By the time I’ll need rest I’ll be able to put it on autopilot.” He reasons. Your hands rests on his shoulder for a few seconds before you head down the ladder and climb into Mando’s bed, placing the kid on his hammock.

You can vaguely remember the ship landing on some fuel site, and Mando’s armored footsteps clunking across the ship floor. The takeoff wakes you again, but you settle quickly, falling asleep only seconds after waking.

A little while later, the panel to the bed slides opens. Squinting, you make out Mando’s silhouette, shedding piece after piece of beskar.

“Mando?”

“Shh.” The bed sinks on one side.

“D’ya need me to fly for a while?” You ask, voice rough and groggy from sleep.

“No, just stay facing that way.” You hear a few clicks, and then he presses himself up against your body in the tight space. You can feel his breath on your neck, realizing that he’d rid himself of his helmet. His hand snakes under your shirt, calloused fingers running over the much softer skin. His chest is pressed flush against your back, and you can feel his breathing even out slowly.

“Night, Mando.” You say, but he’s already fallen asleep.

[ourautumn86]

comin in hot with a twt link! (Dont know if i did wrong or not im new to these ^^) Idk if you write for din djarin or not but i can just imagine him doing this as he takes out his frustrations on your pussy cause the bounty went sideways. but this could also be seen as joel if a smuggling deal went wrong. Your pick! <3 much love!!

https://twitter.com/OrgasmGifs/status/1619378756648574978?t=XxqL71XHdg891aZOifJB5g&s=19

oh lord, this is pure filth. 😭😮‍💨

din djarin x fem reader!

minors don’t interact, +18 content!

cw; rough sex, choking, manhandling, dirty talking, degradation, praising, piv sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cockwarming, dom! din x sub! reader, nipple playing, name calling (whore, slut…), …

“fuck.” your eyes shot open when you heard something crashing on the salon, along with the voice of who you recognized was din, your boyfriend.

your eyes still felt heavy with sleep, but your mind was slowly coming alive as you got up from bed.

“din?” you called out for him, he was giving you his back, armor still on except for his helmet—which he had thrown across the room—. he looked exhausted, but mostly of all exasperated, furious.

he didn’t seem to have heard you, and you stepped closer. “din, what’s-“ but before you knew it, there was a hand pinning your wrists to the wall behind your back and another surrounding your neck. from your lips fell a gasp that got caught in between his as he furiously kissed you. he groaned, pushing you harder against the wall, all air leaving your lungs. he was kissing you as if you were the last thing he could hold onto.

“din, what’s going-” you moaned when his clothed thigh pushed in between your naked ones, roughly pressing against your panties and your cunt. your hands messed with his hair and tugged when he freed your wrists and pulled your shirt upwards ‘till your bare chest was exposed for him to lick and suck onto.

“shut the fuck up.” he ordered, quieting you, letting you know what you needed to do, and that was to close your mouth and take what he gave you. and if what he needed to gave you was his anger, his frustration, and stress. you will take it.

you whimpered when his lips sucked on your nipple, the hand that now stood free grabbing at your hip to grind you on his thigh, making you sigh and whine, your panties growing wetter and wetter at his roughness.

“din…” you begged, and he groaned on your chest, sucking bruises that now beautifully decorated your perfect tits.

in a swift motion he was manhandling you with his strong arms, pulling you back into your room and pinned you onto the bed under his weight. it was rough, the way he kissed you, the way he pulled off your shirt, the way his hands were digging on your skin. but it hurt so good…

“fuck.” he muttered against your nipples when a high pitched and pornographic moan left your lips as his fingers sneaked inside your panties and met your wet core, his fingertips dripping on you.

your hips jolted against his touch when he teased you, his fingers dipping on your slick and merely brushing your clit, making your whole body shake in need. need for him.

“din please…” you begged, and he smirked.

“what a good girl…” he muttered against your neck as his fingertips pressed against your clit, making sparks fill your vision. “such good manners…” you whimpered, the praise only making you eager for him, needier. “being so good to me.” you screamed when he suddenly plunged two of his thick fingers inside of you, immediately finding your g spot. you couldn’t help but arch your bag, your eyes shutting close as he started to fuck them in and out of you. “listen to her…” he smirked, his dick painful hard in between his thighs at the sounds your cunt was making for him, sticky and perfectly ready for him to fuck into. “so ready for me…” you moaned, your cheeks burning due to the sounds that your arousal surrounding his fingers made.

“din…” you sighed his name, your hips rocking onto his fingers, needing him deeper. needing him to go harder, treat you badly, love you in that harsh way that made your mind reel… you were whimpering as he split you open with his fingers, brushing your g spot with every curl of his digits. it was needy, and harsh, it almost hurt, but you couldn’t possibly need him anymore than this. your whole body was like a magnet begging for his touch, needing him to touch you.

his patience seemed to be running out as he saw you fall apart, his cock pressed against your thigh as he grasped at your tits, tugging at the nipples just like he knew you liked.

the air in your lungs disappeared when in a quick flip he had down on your stomach, his rough hand landing a harsh spank to your ass, making you jolt and hiss.

in between the dizziness and hunger that enveloped you, you heard him push down his pants and underwear, too far gone to even care about the fact that you were beautifully naked under him and he was still on his goddamn armor, completely dressed.

you whined as one of his hands pulled you upwards so your ass would be sticking out for him, your glistening pussy begging for attention, your slick coating your mound and your thighs. you were soaking wet, drowning in desire.

he didn’t even tease you, didn’t even wait for you to get adjusted to his size before he was fucking you open with his huge cock. his tip brushed your cervix with every harsh thrust and you were withering and dissolving under his touch.

“fuck.” he groaned, his whole body shaking at the feeling of your cunt tightening around him and sucking him in every time he’d try and pull out just to thrust back in. it was as if your body was begging for him to stay inside, to fuck you full of him, for him to not go. “so good…” his pace spiked up, and your hands were holding onto your sheets for dear life, your body shaking with every snap of his hips against your ass. his balls met your cunt with every one of them, getting soaked on you. they felt so heavy… so full and ready to empty themselves in you… “you’re always so fucking good to me, pussy so ready to be filled up, huh?” he teased, and you whimpered as your walls tightened around him, making him groan. “such a fucking slut for dick. look at you…, already so close to cumming all over my cock…”

“din!” you cried out when his dick reached that deep spot inside of you that no one had ever been able to reach before, making your sight go blank.

“you gonna cum, honey? gonna cum for me?” his breathing was ragged, his pace needy. the sight in front of him was like heaven; you drooling all over your sheets, moans getting cut off by his thrusts and your cunt dripping only for him. you nodded, begging for him to let you cum, he almost bursted at your cries. “go ahead baby, soak my cock.” and you did, with moans and whimpers falling off your lips, your mind going black at the strength of your orgasm, which made your whole body shake and your walls to get impossibly tighter around him.

“shit.” he groaned, fucking you though it, feeling your cum coat the curls on the base of his cock, the wetness and warmth of it.

“din!!” you whimpered when his pace only sped up, the overstimulation becoming too much. you tried and get away from him, crawl your way on the bed, but he only tugged you closer, pinning you down onto the duvet ‘till only your hips were detached from it, spreading you open for him to fuck into. his right hand harshly gripped your neck from the back of your head, making sure you wouldn’t move, that you wouldn’t get away from him. you were sure there would be bruises on his fingertips decorating your waist tomorrow morning, but you wouldn’t care. “din, please…”

you screamed as he started to piston inside of you, unable to quiet your sobbing and whimpers. “don’t fucking move.” he groaned, feeling his own release start to build. “take it. be the good whore you are and fucking take it.” he gritted in between his teeth.

your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, your jaw slack and spit dribbling to the sheets. your mind felt hazy, your body heavy as he fucked you towards your second orgasm, which was building faster and harder than the first.

“that’s it. good girl.” he smirked when your own body started to thrust backwards, begging for more. “good. fucking. girl.” his thrust cut every one of his words.

“din, gonna cum, gonna-, fuck!” your eyes were rimmed by tears, your legs shaking and about to let you fall onto the mattress. thank god he was holding you up, manhandling you just like he would a goddamn toy for him to fuck.

“that’s it baby. cum for me. good girl.” you were falling apart as he hit your sweet spot one, two, three more time before your orgasm came crashing down like a tidal wave, drowning you under water. “fuck, so fucking tight.” he groaned, his cock twitching at how your walls were tightening. “gonna cum baby. gonna fill this pretty and wet cunt of yours.” you moaned. “yeah? you want it, baby? want my cum?” you whimpered, nodding, babbling however you could multiples ‘yes’ that slurred their way out of your lips. “fuck. take it baby, fucking take it.” he groaned, and his cock twitched as he emptied himself inside of you, painting your pussy on cum and filling you up so good you could only wither and moan at the feeling.

you fell with him to the mattress, your bodies sticky and spent. he had for sure fucked his frustrations in you.

he quickly undressed, holding you with your back against his wide chest, his strong arms surrounding your waist. you whimpered when his soft cock pushed his cum all inside once again when he seated himself in your cunt. “i know baby, i know…” he cooed, leaving soft pecks and kisses in the expanse of your neck and shoulders. “gotta keep it all warm and inside for you baby.” he muttered against your skin, and soon enough your eyes were closing once again, now completely spent due to his rough fucking.

-

a/n; oh lord, hope y’all liked it, love you! 😭😮‍💨