#din fanfic

[dracowars]

Could you do a din djarin x former inquisitor reader? Maybe he finds out when they are saving Grogu from Moff Gideon in season two. I think Din, Bo-Katan, etc reactions would be so interesting!

forgive me | din djarin

pairing: din x formerinquisitor!reader

word count: 2,6k

summary: where din finds out about y/n's past

a/n: this was incredibly fun to write, i love the inquisitor lore so much!! thank you so much for requesting, i hope you enjoy <3 please don't forget to give feedback and reblog, it means the world to me ♡♡♡

warnings: angst, cursing, violence, mentions of torture, mentions of death

universe: star wars

"I asked you a question", Din says through gritted teeth, clearly not impressed by the warloard as he points his blaster directy at the man laying on the ground in front of him. After you have successfully taken over Moff Gideon's light cruiser with your newly found team, you were finally met with that inkling of hope that was lost for so long. You were sure that, this time, you won. Except you didn't.

"Call back your darktroopers or I won't hesitate to pull the trigger!", you shout at Gideon, almost pitying his slumped figure on the cold surface. The once great Moff Gideon, holder of the darksaber, military leader in charge of the remnents of the Galactic Empire, huddled on the floor, right to your feet. You would almost believe he is scared, almost, if it were not for the slight twitch pulling at the corner of his mouth. Because despite of him being defenseless, vulnerable and alone, he somehow still managed to pull one last ace up his sleeve and take you by surprise. The surprise that is currently waiting to charge through the blast doors, the last layer of protection that saves you from your fate.

"Everyone in this room will be dead but me. And the child", Gideon says with a sparkle in his eyes, trying to find a comfortable position with his hands cuffed.

"I will ask you. One. Last. Time. What do you need Grogu for?", Din interjects, ignoring his threat as he keeps his blaster pointed at him. Even though you can't see his face through his helmet, it is clear that this time he expects an honest answer or he will definitely not hold back. He has grown too fond of Grogu to not get to know why Gideon wants to capture him so badly or what he did to the small child.

And while Din waits for him to think of an answer that won't have him blast his head off, Gideon's eyes lock with yours and it is in that moment that you feel a shift, seeing a change in his face that you can't quite interpret. The answer he gives is not what you expected at all.

"Maybe you should ask your friend here, not me."

Immediately, you take a wavering step back, lowering your blaster while Din slowly turns to look in your direction, his whole posture screaming at you to explain what tiny piece of information Moff Gideon just dropped your way. "What?"

Bo-Katan, Koska and Fennec, all aiming their own blasters at the door, shift their attention to you now as well, ignoring the loud noises created by the darktroopers trying to come through. You can only stare at Gideon, however, and if he wasn't your only way to get out of here alive, you would have put an end to this already. The knowing grin on his face frightens you because it tells you he knows everything. About what you did, about your past, and, above all, about the darkness hovering over it.

"What does he mean by that, Y/N?", Din wants to know, a twist audible in his voice as well now. He does not trust you right now and if you were in his spot, you wouldn't trust yourself either. You have been on this journey together for a long time already, your only interest being the safety of the child, and yet you managed to keep your biggest secret hidden from him. There are things he doesn't need to and simply shouldn't know about you.

"Y/N is very well acquainted with what I did. I would even go as far as to say that we were once considered allies", Gideon answers for you as you can't come up with any rational explanation, too occupied by what is going on in your mind.

"That's not true! Don't- Don't listen to him. I was never on your side, Gideon", you immediately interrupt as you comprehend his accusation, turning to Din who does not know what or whom to believe anymore. His partner, who lied to him since day one, or his enemy, who just revealed the secret that has been haunting you since forever.

"Tell them the truth then, Twelfth Sister."

As soon as the words leave Gideon's mouth, Bo-Katan suddenly points one of her blasters directly at you, no hesitation in her movement at all. However, you can't even concentrate on the deadly weapon aimed at you as you feel like the ground beneath your feet opens up, causing you to fall into the deep depths full of sorrow, darkness and pain that you ran away from for so long. And the fact that Grogu, sitting at one of the consoles next to you, coos at all of this, does not make it any better.

Silence fills the room as everyone slowly but surely comprehends the meaning behind Moff Gideon's words. What he called you, Twelfth Sister, is a title you have not been addressed by in a long, long time and you desperately wish it stayed that way.

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!", you scream at Gideon, your heart beating so fast it hurts. With trembling hands and legs you take a step closer to him, wanting him to not say another word ever again but as soon as you move from your spot, you are faced with another blaster barrel.

However this time it is Din who points his weapon right at you, stopping you dead in your tracks as you feel like you can't get enough air to breathe. The realization has hit him after all.

"N-No! Please, you need to listen to me! I-"

"You are an Inquisitor?", Din asks, not a single hint in his voice as to how he feels, how disappointed he has to be in you. On the one hand, you want him to scream at you, shout at you for keeping this from him, but on the other hand you want him to be able to forgive you, even though you know that what you did is inexcusable.

Since you have no clue how to put everything you want to say in words at once, you only manage to nod, lowering your head as you feel ashamed of yourself. You are waiting for the shot to hit you and when it doesn't, you look up at Din who has not moved.

"Why?", is all he says, staring at you through his helmet. You swear you feel your heart breaking at how he pronounces this one seemingly harmless word.

"I- I don't know. I didn't want all of this to happen. The one second I fight alongside an army of clones, the next I kill all of them and mourn over my dead master", you explain, the memories tormenting you. "They took me. They took me and tortured me until there was nothing left of who I was or what I fought for. They broke me."

You spit out the last part, feeling the anger spark inside of you. Closing your eyes, you feel the panic chase off the anger as you can physically feel the pain they sent you through once more. You sink to your knees, supporting yourself with your hands on the ground, tears in your eyes. They will always have control over you.

"Inquisitors chased down and killed all of the remaining Jedi. You abducted force-sensitive children!", Bo-Katan reminds you of your all-too-real deeds and you can't help but feel bile rise up your throat, making you cough.

"I did.. bad things and each time, it killed me a little more. But when they wanted me to kidnap a child, I didn't. It was then that I noticed it wasn't my way", you say quietly, trying to stand up for yourself about the only thing you did right and that you can be proud of. Because you disobeyed. Because you turned your back on them. Because you left.

"I can't believe you", Din mutters, his voice sounding coarse.

"I promise you it's not who I am anymore!", you try to convince him, all of them actually, but you know it is to no use. Which does not mean you won't try to change their view because, at last, you were a victim too. "Why do you think I am here? Because I made it my task, my purpose, to protect these children! I don't want anyone to experience what I had to. I even killed one of my so-called sisters! I turned against them."

Breathing heavily, you need a few seconds to cope with your emotional outburst, letting your words sink into their heads while you are trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill. But you don't let them because you have shown weakness too many times before. After all, the dark side was only able to overpower you back then because it caught you at your weakest moment, using it to its advantage, turning your despair into pure hatred.

"Please, you have to believe me", you breathe out, your voice breaking in the end as you stare at Din and Din only. You don't care what the others think, you don't care if they will ever forgive you as long as Din does. You get lost in the darkness of his visor as you keep staring at him intently, waiting for any kind of reaction but he just won't budge.

Because you can only see him in this moment what you do notice, however, is how Moff Gideon pulls a blaster out of nowhere, points it at Din and fires a shot without hesitation. Suddenly, you feel transported back to that one fateful day when you lost everything. When your clones, your friends, turned against you. When you lost the only person you ever really cared for.

All intent on not letting fate repeat itself, you reach for the Force and feel the familiar tingle in your fingertips. Within seconds, you stop the deadly projectile mid-air. And even though it takes all your effort and concentration, you still somehow manage to use the Force to push Din out of the line of fire, causing him to slitter his feet across the floor.

It feels like time is slowing down as you slowly walk towards Gideon and, as soon as he fires another shot at you, you parry it with the Darksaber in your hand. Shock and terror are written all over his face before you finally reach him, kick the blaster out of his hands and put the deadly blade to his throat.

"I will not let you hurt the people I love", you spit out, looking directly into his panic-filled eyes. Apparently he did not expect you to still be this powerful after all these years of not using the Force at all and, although you have to admit that you could have blocked thousands of those shots back then when it took all of your strength to defend one now, you felt good. The Force, the light side, came back to you as if it was never gone. Considering that you were still a child yourself when Order 66 happened, never completing your Jedi training, your powers have grown exponentially.

"You don't deserve to be kept alive-"

"Y/N-", Din wants to interrupt, but you continue anyway.

"But I have changed. I am no Inquisitor, I am a Jedi", you say, feeling relief as the final truth leaves your mouth, making it finally seem real. "You will face trial and you will be locked away for life so you will never be able to hurt anyone again."

"You forget that you are still on my ship, with my troopers waiting to kill all-"

"And you will kindly call them back and shut them down right now or..", you threaten, looking at the Darksaber that is terribly close to his throat. You don't show that it actually lays extremely heavy in your hands, not only because it is a unique weapon, but also because it is not yours. Your own lightsaber is buried on Felucia, where no one will ever find it.

Gideon huffs in annoyance but considering that you are only millimeters away from slicing the Darksaber through his throat, he finally gives in and follows your command. The sound of the dangerous killing machines switching off outside the blast doors echoes throughout the bridge and as soon as you are certain that all of them are down, you knock Gideon out with the butt of the lightsaber hilt, sending him to the floor unconsciously.

As soon as he hits the ground, your legs give in underneath you and you slump in, letting the blade dissolve before tossing the weapon as far away from you as you possibly can. Tears stream down your face as all the burden you carried around all those years finally falls off you, allowing you to breathe once more. You know they are all watching you as you feel all their eyes on you but no one dares to say a single word.

That is, until Grogu peeps out from where he was hiding, slowly waddling towards you while cooing. You can't help but smile at him and you feel incredibly grateful that at least one of them has not lost faith in you.

"Grogu", Din calls out strictly as he wants to come even closer to you.

"It's fine. I would never hurt him", you promise and don't even dare to look in his direction, concentrating to look at Grogu's big doe eyes only. That is why you don't see how Din silently gives the others commands and they start shuffling behind you, opening the doors to the disabled droids in order to destroy them one by one.

Din's shadow hovers over you as you wrap your arms around your own waist, not looking at him, too scared of what he might say. One of Grogu's small hands touches your knee as he keeps cooing at you and you can sense that he feels sorry for you. He knows the pain of being seperated from the family you once considered your home.

Hearing a rustling, you hold your breath as Din squats down in front of you, taking Grogu in his arms as if to protect him. If this is the last time you see him, you tell yourself, you at least want to look at him one more time and so you do.

And you feel like you can't breathe when you see him holding out his hand to you, wanting to save you.

"I'm sorry", he whispers through his helmet and you can hear the sorrow in his voice now, strong and clear.

"No, I have to be the one apologizing. I betrayed you and I don't know how you could ever trust me again", you disregard his words and shake your head, feeling so incredibly ashamed of yourself for what you did. Lowering your head and hiding your face in your hands, you can't stop the tears from falling as all those memories come back to you, laughing directly in your face.

But when you suddenly get pulled forward and feel warm hands around you, you open your eyes only to find yourself in Din's - and also Grogu's - arms. He presses you against him, his hand on the back of your head as if we will never let you go.

"It's not your fault, none of it", Din speaks to you, sounding so sure about what he says that it makes your heart beat faster. "You saved us, Y/N."

"I don't deserve your kindness. How can you forgive me? After everything I have done?", you ask, pushing yourself an arm's length away from him so your face is only inches away from his.

"I already forgave you", he concludes, resting his forehead against yours. "But I think it's time that you finally forgive yourself."

[popcornforone]

Negotiations

A Din Djarin fan fic

Autumn collections

Ooooh I’m spoiling you aren’t I, my creative juices are flowing. It’s time for another autumn vibe fic this time with Din & Grogu & what life is like being in this clan. I have 3 vibes in draft & this one the second I asked people was obviously going to be the winner so here it is.

Synopsis:- while after a target on a Forrest planet Grogu gets up to mischief, but you & Din both know negotiating with him & each other doesn’t always go so smoothly.

Word count: 2700

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF TOU ARE UNDER 18! This is mainly fluff however there is mentions of blind folding & oral sex as well as piv sex. Angst, frustration, small amount of pain, mild bad language. Face isn’t revealed to reader. Yea all things considering for me this is rather tame. This is set in start wars not outside of it.

As always thanks for reading my loves. I hope you enjoy this. All feedback is always appreciated.

“Stop” but it’s too late. Grogu has leapt in a pile of autumn leaves 3 times the size as him. You are tempted to follow him in to get him out, but you don’t know what’s lurking in the bottom of this pile. It has also rained recently, so it’s muddy & damp too. You sigh as he emerges about 30 seconds later, covered in muck. He’s holding a small lizard creature he’s found.

“Patu”

You sigh.

“No Grogu, you know you can’t eat that, both me & your dad have told you that” he little face & ears drop. Sad & like a puppy. As he coos you carefully pick him up, trying not to get dirty yourself. I tell you what Grogu, let’s take this guy home with us” he turns his head towards you. He likes it when you bargain & negotiate. “We are on this planet for a little while, we can put him by the front door of our hut & see if he wants to stay” Grogu nods his head & makes a cute sound which makes you smile as he reluctantly puts the creature in your hand. You try not the be grossed out by it’s slippery texture, & it’s a good thing you only live 5minutes away. You carry both Grogu & the creature back to where you have made home.

The Forrest planet of Devaron is very dense, almost jungle like, it has seasons too. It’s been hard to track your collective target but you both know they are here. You are Dins mechanic when he’s in this sector of the galaxy & you also give him other benefits. There are different screws that are at your disposal. The three of you have found a three room hut, the recently rebuild & salvaged Razor Crest parked about a mile away, which still has most of your things in, a quick escape could be needed at any second. You & Grogu were actually on your way back from it as you needed a few texts to read to check which of the 5 new plants you had discovered were poisonous. That’s when he leapt into the leaves. Your wooden hut is small, a kitchen living areas, a bathroom & a double bedroom. Grogu had his little cot to sleep in so you could both easily just make sure he wouldn’t wake up when Din & you were servicing each others needs. Always in complete darkness, or you are blindfolded so he could take his helmet off to kiss you lips & skin. The only time your eyes have been open when he’s made love to you, has been when his head has been between your thighs, lapping up every drop, telling you how delicious you are as you fluttered away into his mouth, realising you could squirt.

“Mando?” You say when you arrive, you always call out each other’s nicknames when you return to the hut. You also both always make sure your blaster is ready incase someone try’s to ambush you. When the three of you enter together, you talk loudly to give anyone lurking a chance to escape. But today like most days, there is no one here, not even your Tin man. Grogu clung to you slightly afraid, as you checked each room before you put him down in the bathroom & put your blaster in the top of the cupboard. Even he had a little sigh. “We’re all good kid, now let’s get you cleaned up, Daddy is not going to like this if he comes home to you being all mucky”

“Patu” & he shakes his head.

“No it’s not up for discussion kid you smell, you’ve not had a wash in 3 weeks anyhow, we need to sort you out” you start to fill up the basin you’ve been washing him in, & you bring the liquid soap down from the top shelf. You then test the water to see that it’s not to hot for him then reach to add the liquid. It’s not there, Grogu has used the force & put it on the highest shelf in the bathroom, you can’t reach it. “Grogu?” You turn around & show him you’re not happy. “Please bring that back” you sit on the floor & start to undress him “otherwise it will just be in hot water & you won’t like that it… ouch” Grogu has used the force & has flung the shoes that are by the bathroom door at the back of your head & he’s having a giggle at it. “Grogu stop please, you didn’t even let me negotiate…” you duck you can see the bucket flying at you from the left & you grab it on its way back. You know it’s a game but you just wish one Bath time would be simple. You’re tempted to just trap him in the bucket, but you know it will cause issues with your relationship going forward.

“Grogu?” The modulated voice comes from behind you, your shiny tin man, dressed in his beskar. Din is home & both you & Grogus eyes light up. “What are you doing? We know we don’t do that to friends”

“Patu” he points at the soap & shakes his head. Din sighs.

“Guessing you didn’t even negotiate”

“Haven’t been able to get that far, think he’s still angry I wouldn’t let him eat that lizard looking thing outside”

“Kids eh, who’d have them?” You stare at Din for a few seconds. He choose to take Grogu on as his ward & train him as a Mandalorian. Yes you have joined there adventures since but one of the reasons you had never been with Din before properly was because he didn’t want to be apart of a family, he couldn’t see himself having kids or having a partner, it was non negotiable he said at the time. “Fair point I get you” you stand up & kiss the beskar helmet at the place that would be his forehead before your hands trial over those broad shoulders.

“So what do we do Din?”

“I’ll Bath him…”Grogu shakes his head at that too”… while you make cookies, I found some pumpkins about 3 miles away, you could make them into Grogus favourite” even though you can’t see it your pretty sure Din is raising an eyebrow at you.

“But if he’s not wanting a bath he can’t…” your face is then hit by his small beskar top that Grogu wears & he’s leaping towards the basin in nothing “See Grogu, all it took was Negotiating, we just hadn’t got that far yet” but your voice trails off as the gloves & some of Dins armour comes off. The waters of Mandalore are the only place your beskar should be wet, he’s promised to take you there one day. His hands are always so large & soft despite them doing terrible horrible things. They echo your lover perfectly.

“Just because I have a mask doesn’t mean I can’t see you blushing” Din says as Grogu uses the force to get him the soap.

“What can I say, I like your hands baby” you chuckle & you both softly sigh & Grogu starts to splash the water. “I’ll leave you two boys to it” & you head to the kitchen area.

The smell of warm pumpkin cookies fills your hut. You lean against the windowsill waiting for them to bake, as you sip your sunrise caf, you’d recently found some of this while scavenging though an abandoned mine. You’ve made one for Din too & warmed some blue milk for Grogu. It’s his favourite. He might be the worlds oldest child in his 60s but he still loves it to dip his cookies in.

Cooing comes from the bedroom as Din opens the door & carries Grogu in. He’s dressed in a clean robe & is holding a small orange Dahlia. He is placed on the counter & offers it to you & gargles.

“Grogu says he’s sorry” Din says. He’s left his helmet on but he has changed to a more comfortable outerwear, his blaster still in his belt though, always prepared for an unwelcome visitor. Grogu offers you the flower with a beaming smile. Those eyes are so big.

“Patu”

“Awww thanks Grogu, it’s okay I forgive you.” You take the flower & give him a small kiss on the forehead. You then look up at Din. “Where did you find Dahlias?”

“I have my secrets” a chuckle comes from underneath the helmet. He looms over you, towering & large. You’re not small but the size of the man is always so powerful & intimidating. What you would do to remove the helmet & look up his face, just once. The unspoken silence tells you both what you want to know.

“Patu! Patu!” Grogu bounces & points at the oven.

“Someone’s impatience, 2 minutes kid then they need to cool” as you say this Din has taken the flower from your hand & placed it behind your ear so it sticks out, your mousey hair flowing half way down your back. He smiling under all his layers.

“Suits you baby” Din says. He slowly lifts up the bottom of his helmet, his thin lips on display for you to see, as he sips at his drink. “Oooh that does taste good” it’s still odd hearing his voice not be modulated.

As you look at his lips you see the reflection of the world out the window. You turn back around. The sun is setting through the trees. Gusts blow between the branches, as leaves crackle & fall from the trees, a few concours & pine cones also tumbling to the dense Forrest floor. The orange from the sunset poking through at points. It reminds you of home & you return to watching out of the window. Dins large hands go over your shoulders making you shiver.

“Can I trust you?”

“Yes Din” & then you stop breathing. His helmet rests on the windowsill next to you. His face is uncovered.

“Eyes on the beautiful world my love nothing else” his bare hands link around your waist & he lowers his head so it’s on your shoulder. The temptation to turn your head & look at his face is huge, but you resist. You know you have to. Both your heart rates have increased & your hands now rest on top of his as he lets out a sigh. “Perfect, just perfect,” you close your eyes you know what comes next with that tone. He holds your chin & smiles when the sees your eyes are already closed. Such a soft kiss. For a man who does unspeakable horrors & has rules, he’s the softest & sweetest lover of them all. It makes you fall for him even more.

“Patu! Patu” Grogu bounces.

“Ahhh the cookies” you break the kiss eyes still shut, & Din automatically faces against the wall the other side from the oven so you can’t see his face. Grogu has seen his face before even before Din was his custodian so he can see his dads face, but you can’t. You rush to the oven & steam fills the room as you get the cookies out. “Hope you all like cookies that snap.” Grogu doesn’t care, he just likes your home made cookies.

“It will be better than the ships store cupboard” Din says knowing he’s now safe he returns to facing the window watching the sun dip lower. You then look at him. His hair from the back it’s curly & thick & chocolate brown & you sigh. You wonder if there is a stray curl at the front. Maybe he would like someone to kiss him & tease it. Maybe he would like more than just hands on his chin. But you won’t know, you never will.

3 mins of cooling later & you give into an impatient Grogu. The cookie is almost as big as his head but that doesn’t stop him from munching away. The happy little noises escape his mouth & you look down at him.

“Is that worth the wait & the Bath kid?” He nods & then points at his dad. You can see in the excitement in his face that Din doesn’t have his helmet on yet. He’s always very excited by that, clearly something happened in their past to do with his face when he originally showed it to him, that he has a core memory of.

“Would you like a cookie Din?” You ask making sure you don’t turn around.

“You’ve made them, of course I will.” A hand comes over your shoulder as you are leaning next to the counter, it picks up the sweet treat & it’s not soon before you hear him moan a little. “Delicious” he exclaims as Grogu takes a second.

“Don’t want you to ruin your appetite, don’t have too many” you snap a cookie & nibble on it. You’ve made better but this is nice.

“Was that aimed at me or the kid?” Din jokes.

“Both” you smile & so does he. He might not be able to see it this second but he knows which smile you are pulling. Din then grabs you under your arms & lifts you back to standing up. You’re blushing at his touch & him being so intimate despite you not seeing his face. It’s a deep sigh he makes. His lips are in line with your ear.

“Grogu?” Din speaks softly. The kid looks at you both.”do we look like a good couple?” He excitedly laughs before grabbing a third cookie.”then that settles it, the kid says so, so I will work out a way I can show my face to you.” Your hand is on his chin feeling the prickle of his beard hair.

“You’d be willing to do that Din?” Your eyes are watering wanting to turn around & look into the eyes you dream about before you intense make out starts.

“Your song isn’t written yet, & with a new season starting & new purpose In life, I’d like you to share it all with me.” He taps you 3 times on the shoulder & you close your eyes instantly. You know what that means. He turns you around. Your eyes scrunched tightly. He admires all of your features, trailing his index finger down your nose, watching intently as your lips slowly part, the warmth of your breath on his skin. “Mine” he whispers.

“Yours” you reply. It might only be seconds the kiss lasts but it feels like 5hours. The way you allow his tongue to explore each inch. You know his eyes will be closed as this deep passionate kiss takes him over too. The temptation to have a quick look at your man always crosses your mind. Would a 2 second glance ruin everything? You don’t want to risk it. You feel his hands on your hips as you continue the drawn out kiss. He’s pushed you to the window again. You quickly thrust your hands in his hair for a quick feel of those luscious locks. You know why he’s reverted back to here. As the hand leaves your side you both sigh. You slowly pull your lips away from his, waiting til he steps back too. Your eyes open 3 seconds later. His face except his lip are now covered by the helmet. A small smile escapes before he is completely masked again.

“Perfect” you say as you rest your head against his chest. He sighs as he turns you both so you’re watching the last few rays of the sun disappear. Grogu has eaten all the cookies while you made out with Din, as the day turned to night. He’s waddled his way across the counter & is now next to Din trying to look out the window. You scoop Grogu up in your arms so he can see the view as well. The lizard creature for earlier crawls along the windowsill & Din looks down at his misfit of a family that he never wanted but now can’t even think what life would be without either of you.

“Yes my love” he squeezes you & Grogu holds his thumb. “Life is just perfect” & the three of you watch the autumn night start.

[welikethoseoddslove]

Adventure (A Din x reader story pt.6)

Warnings: 18+, injuries, mando holds you down, masturbation (f and m), leather kink if ya squint, gif not mine

Pairing Mando x reader

Previous Ch Summary: You have been beat up pretty badly trying to stay with the Kid, your rib is broken and you're left helpless outside the facility they are keeping the Child in. The Mandalorian comes back for you both and is now treating your broken rib as you lay in his bed.

“Your right side, yes?” He asked softly.

You smiled at him, nodding appreciatively, you undid the blanket and propped yourself up a bit on your elbows.

“I…I can’t-“ you struggle with how to say your range of motion has been decreased so much that you can’t undo the fastenings on your tight shirt. He understands. Wordlessly undoing each fastening and easing you out of them until you’re laying in just your bra and pants looking up at the ceiling.

You turn your head a bit to the side and down and watch him study your bruised side. He places the cream on the floor and takes his right glove off. Leaving it down at the edge of the bed.

Your chest heaves as his pointer and middle finger reach into the pot of cream and come out wet. They are strong looking and thick-maybe it was the sleep deprivation getting to you but seeing them together, and covered in-

Your thighs clenched together.

He places the pads of his fingers on the edge of your extending bruise and you yelp. At the noise he looks up at you. You see the reflection of yourself in his dark visor.

Maker, is that what you look like? Positively wrecked, tits heaving-hmm, you looked good for feeling like you could die any second,

You start to chuckle at your situation but your stomach moving against where his fingers are trying to rub the cream in makes an incredible pain shoot through you.

He looks at you straight in the eyes, all you can see is your almost naked reflection, but you stare back.

“This is going to hurt, but I need you to stay as still as possible, the quicker I can get this on the better. Bite down.” Distracted by your own image you didn’t realize he was holding his discarded leather glove out in front of your lips.

“Open.”

You physically have to fight the urge to moan at the command. But you open your mouth and bite down on the rolled up glove. You can feel yourself getting wet. Stars, (y/n), get your mind out of the gutter, he’s just applying-

A firm hand holds down your left hip. The pressure is exhilarating. Until you realize why he’s doing it. Too keep you from twisting around when he-

His left hand makes quick work of rubbing in the cool cream. Shockwaves of pain shoot through you and you fight against the hand holding your hip to the bed, trying to get away from it. After what felt like forever, of writhing around, he takes his hands off of you.

“The ointment needs a few minutes to soak in and maybe then you can get sleep."

He said without looking back up at your face, gingerly placing the blanket back over you. Not-you notice-trying to put your shirt back on, though.

As he stands you look up at him, his glove still between your lips…beads of sweat starting on your brow, still panting from the fight you put up.

He swallows, hoping you don’t hear.

He bends down and takes the glove from your mouth.

“I’ll see you in the morning” he says gruffly

“Thank you.” You say up to him. He turns and leaves without acknowledging it.

The Mandalorian walks towards the cockpit. He’s hoped beyond hope she hadn’t just seen the large bulge in his pants.

The cockpit, the only other place he can think to go where he could have some privacy, the only other place apart from his bedroom, where a shirtless woman is laying. Where he had just…put his hands all over her.

And did her thighs press together when he asked her to bite down on his glove, or was he imagining it?

He slumps down in the pilot’s chair and groans. His pants are tight and uncomfortable. He takes off his other glove and throws it on the command center with the other one…he gets distracted by how the other one still has her teeth marks on it…and some of her spit…

His head falls forward with a moan as he palms the tight fabric containing his rapidly hardening cock.

He clicks a button that shuts the door behind him.

Back in his bed your side begins to go numb. It’s bliss not being able to feel the rib anymore. But it lets you focus on other-more pressing feelings…

Like the hot throbbing of your pussy. You slide a hand down under your pants, just running a finger over your underwear feels like heaven. You gasp at how pent up you are.

You realize you hadn’t touched yourself since you stayed at the valley, sharing a small house with the old man hadn’t amounted to having much-private time. This was long overdue.

You slipped your hands below your underwear and felt how wet you had become. It was dangerous what that man could do to you without even meaning to. You reached your other hand up and rolled your nipple under your bra between your fingers, pinching it, you gave a deep moan and began to circle your clit.

You replayed how you writhed against him, but his large hand was never moved, splayed across your hip.

The complete submission you felt when you opened your mouth to accept his glove.

How his thick fingers had dipped into the pot of ointment and came out covered…

Now I know you wanna keep reading, here you go. 

[onceinamando]

Stowaway Chapter 2

AN: Hi everybody! Let's goooo next chapter. I'm still busy setting things up, setting the scene, but getting Din and you to interact was definitely fun. I hope I'm able to stay true to who Din is as a character while also cracking that tough shell. Lots of slow burn and tension to come, because thats the BEST part :P. Let me know what you guys think! And should I make longer chapters? It would take longer to write and post, but if you'd prefer that lemme know :)

Warnings: Description of weapons, some tension, some swearing.

Word count: 2074

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The silence is suffocating. You just sit there for hours upon hours, with nothing to look at but a shiny helmet, green ears and the lines of stars streaking by. You don't know how he's able to sit so perfectly still for so long. And the awkwardness you feel is slowly eating away at your self control to stay silent. Eventually you can't stand it anymore.

"Am I a prisoner?" You ask, pretty sure you are, but not able to think of another question to break the silence.

That continues.

You're pretty sure he heard you. Is he ignoring you?

"Mr Mandalorian sir, I need to pee." You try again. This time you see his shoulders slump slightly, but you still don't get a response.

"I'll uh, just go downstairs then." You say, getting up. You slowly sidestep the chair while watching the Mandalorian for hints of movement. He stays stock still. You keep retreating backwards, and startle a bit when you hear the hiss of doors opening behind you. You retreat further into the next cabin and wait until the doors hiss closed in front of you and you lose sight of the Mandalorian.

For the first time in hours you're able to take a deep breath. You climb down the ladder as best you can with bound hands, and then turn to look at what you now have to assume is the urinal. Obviously this ship was not made to cater to anybody that doesn't stand up and pee. You stare at it very hard, wondering how on earth you're going to manage to relieve yourself.

"This is ridiculous." You mutter. You look around, wondering if there is possibly another solution. Your eyes land on a small round bucket type thing, and you shrug to yourself. You're no stranger to having to do things the hard way, or the gross way. Growing up on a small farming planet taught you to get your hands dirty, and your time spent as a combat medic for the Resistance made your stomach strong.

So you grab the bucket, pull your pants down, and crouch. And oh sweet stars it feels good. You hadn't realised just how much you needed to go until now. When you're finished you pick up the bucket and empty it into the useless urinal. Flushing it makes a loud sound that you're sure can be heard all the way up in the cockpit.

But if he's going to ignore you, then you're going to take advantage of it and try to amuse yourself down here. Now that one basic need has been fulfilled, you find yourself noticing another. You're so kriffing hungry. You take in the hull before you.

You didn't notice how cluttered it actually is on your way in, you just noticed wide open space in the middle. But the walls are full of stuff. Parts for the ship, nets, containers filled with who knows what. And to your left is a large locker. You move forward to open it up, your curiosity getting the better of you.

As you open the doors you gasp slightly. Every weapon known to the galaxy has got to be in here. You can't even tell what most of them are for. What on earth does someone need such a variety of weapons for, you wonder to yourself.

Turning slightly you notice a little storage locker. You press the button and it slides open, revealing a cot and a net hanging above it, that looks like a make-shift little bed for the kid. This must be where they sleep. You think about sleep, but shake youself. As tired as you are, your hunt for food is not yet over.

You start to dig through the containers, opening the smaller ones first. You're surprised at just how much of it is scraps of metal and parts for the ship. You're pretty sure you could build half a ship with all this stuff. By the time you're opening your fifth box to only find tools, you're starting to lose hope you're going to find anything edible. You groan and rest your head against the container.

"What are you doing?" A gruff voice asks close by. You jump up almost hit your forehead on his helmet. He was bending over you when he spoke, and you hadn't realised he was so close. You stumble back a bit, heart pounding.

"Are you one of those species that eats metal? The only thing in any of these containers is scraps and parts and tools." You ask him, flustered.

"Do you always answer a question with another question?" He asks lowly, taking a step towards you. You huff and hold your ground, not going to allow him to intimidate you further. You stare at him, almost challenging him.

"Only when I have important questions to ask." You say. He takes another step towards you, and you suddenly realise just how tall he is. He's close enough that if you leaned forward a little, your forehead would rest on his chest. This forces you to look up at him, and you have to actively control your rapid breathing. His proximity is slowly eating away at your resolve to not be intimidated.

"Then ask an important question." He says quietly. You suck in a breath at the implication. Like you haven't asked an important question yet. Anger bubbles up inside you, but you remain calm, knowing he's trying to rile you up. He tilts his face lower, and you can feel him looking at you through the helmet. You stare at the dark T shaped visor where you think his eyes are, willing yourself not to blink.

"Food. Where can I find food." You ask, and it comes out as a mumble. You internally kick yourself for sounding afraid, knowing you just lost whatever this interaction was. Not looking away from you, he points and your eyes follow to a container against the opposite wall. The little one right at the very top. You look back at him, and he still hasn't moved an inch. You stand there for a few more minutes until You realise grumpily you won't win this standoff especially not with your stomach beginning to eat your liver. So you take a step back and walk over to the container.

You open it and see a couple packets of rations, and while it isn't restaurant quality, you're just so glad there is actually something edible on this ship. You pick one up and open it, trying to work with your hands still cuffed and shaking from hunger. You pop a cracker into your mouth and almost forget to chew, practically inhaling the nutrition. You turn around and find the Mandalorian still staring at you.

You realise you didn't ask if you could eat the food. You blush a little in embarassment, scolding yourself for your rudeness. He didn't throw you in Carbonite, so as much as you want to fight back against his intimidating presence, you have to remember to at least be somewhat grateful to him. There was nothing that stopped him from turning the ship around and dropping you back at the transport, but he didn't.

"Am I going to stay cuffed the whole time?" You ask, and the little part of you inside that just scolded you for being rude throws a massive fit and almost walks out on you. You were supposed to say thank you. The Mandalorian doesn't say anything and only walks towards you. He stops again in front of you and you lift your hands up a little. He bends closer to you, and you feel your heart beating against your chest like a war drum.

He doesn't stop moving closer, and you're so shocked you don't remember how to move or breathe. You just stand there and stare at him with big eyes as he leans in, so that there is barely 10cm between the two of you. He continues to look down at you and your heart sits in your throat. He lifts his arm and you watch out of the corner of your eye as he reaches around you and grabs two packets of rations. He then pulls away from you, turns around and walks away, climbing the ladder and disappearing.

You stand there for a while, dumb struck. You're not sure what happened to your body in that moment, but when he was so close to you your mind just started to short circuit. You stare at the ladder where he disappeared and sink to the ground, absent-mindedly munching on your rations while pondering the great mystery of the armoured man.

What were his intentions? Why did he let you stay on the ship? Who was he? Your head was spinning with all these unknowns, and you wondered to yourself exactly who's ship you got on. You finish your rations and feel your eyes start to get heavy. At least now you know you aren't in immediate danger, so maybe some shut eye isn't so bad.

You remember seeing scraps of cloth and blankets in one of the containers, and you get up to go and pull some out. You grab a reasonable bundle and make yourself a little nest on the floor, knowing that you easily get cold. You wrap yourself up and drift off the minute you get settled.

~~~

Din climbed down the stairs with Grogu in his arms. The kid was tired and so was he, but with a stranger on the ship he was not going to be able to sleep. He reached the bottom of the stairs and saw a bundle of blankets on the floor. He walked over and saw your forehead peaking out through a gap in some of them. He contemplated you, this strange person that snuck onto his ship without him knowing.

He had to admit, you were good at being sneaky. If he hadn't gone into that chamber and seen your heat signature through the wall, he would never have known you were there. That also reminded him that he needed to be extra cautious. He couldn't let it happen again.

Grogu suddenly wiggled out of his arms and slid to the floor, waddling over to where you were lying. He pointed at you and looked up at his dad, his eyes full of questions. Din didn't know what to tell him. He knew nothing about you except that you were a stowaway, you worked for the New Republic and you were a doctor.

Were you really only on this ship because the transport was dead in space? Din had seen the state of the ship and was inclined to believe you, but years of experience warned him to be cautious around you, because anyone could lie. You were absolutely going to stay cuffed until they reached Nevarro. Grogu started to climb into the blankets and Din reached forward to stop him.

"Hey, no. That's not your bed." He muttered, trying not to wake you. He picked up Grogu who made an upset sound and reached out to try and get back to the blankets. Din couldn't blame him, you made a little bed that looked comfy as hell, but he didn't trust you, and couldn't let Grogu sleep there. He carried Grogu to the compartment with the cot and opened it up. He placed Grogu in his little hanging bed and patted him, waiting for the kid to fall asleep.

Eventually Grogu's breathing came in long deep breaths, and looking behind him, Din saw that you were also still passed out. He decided to stay here, and lie down on the cot so he could watch Grogu, and leave the door open so he could watch you too. Climbing in he lay down with a soft grunt, the aches from sitting in a chair for hours starting to feel slightly better.

And so Din stayed like that, watching his son, and watching you. Wondering what the next few days would hold, and thinking about how much he secretly had enjoyed making you so flustered when he had gotten too close. He smiled only slightly to himself, knowing that eventually you would learn that if you challenged him, you would lose.

The rhythmic breathing from his son and from you started to lull him slightly, and before he even realised he had sunk into the dreamscape.

[kurogxrix]

me when the READER in the X READER has a name:

like babe the fic ate but i do NOT look like an Aurora🙁

[kitsune024]

Star Wars & The Mandalorian Fanfiction

The Two-Faced Temple by XrDragonix

Din had felt a sense of dread.

From this, from before, from everyone he seemed to run from- but no, this wasn't running, he told himself, this was a job.

A simple job. A mindless task.

Yet, the sense of dread grew more and more as he approached the temple, weighing him down as if to suffocate him.

---

A simple job turns out to be a lot more trouble - oh and The Jedi is back.

Chapters: 5/5

[flightlessangelwings]

Being inclusive with your reader insert fic is a kindness. It tells people of color (poc) that you are considering someone who does not look like you in your fic. It shows love and dedication to our craft. It tells poc that they belong here too and they can see themselves in your story.

Poc aren’t look for activism in fic, we know fandom isn’t that serious, but we should be able to have that same level of escapism when we turn to fic and fandom. We belong here too. This space is for everyone, not just one group of people.

Just to give a few examples of how simple it can be: say “skin warmed” instead of blushed, say “cradled your head” instead of running fingers through hair, say “angles yourself to kiss” instead of standing on tiptoes, use italics to indicate Spanish to take out a throwaway line of “you didn’t understand Spanish” things like that. Small changes that do not impact the fic at all but make a world of difference in inclusivity!

And for anything you can’t/don’t want to change, simply add warning in the beginning. Things like hair descriptors, anything reader might wear, some backstory for reader (especially involving family or where the story is set), readers job, things like that. A lot of times just having that heads up before the fic makes a world of difference!

And one example of kindness we as writers always worked to change: until recently (just a couple years ago) it wasn’t common to label the gender of the reader. But those who aren’t female asked writers to label it so they know which to read and which to avoid, and now it’s common to label the gender/pronouns of the reader. So it is possible! It just takes effort! And I’m a writer myself so I know it can be done!

We can pretend to be a bartender or a bounty hunter or an actress or anything else. But we shouldn’t have to imagine we’re a white one.

[fixforthesoul]

OPEN LETTER TO FANFICTION WRITERS ON ACCESSIBILITY; PLEASE READ.

first of all, thank you for spending your time, seldom acknowledged and definitely deserving of a compensation you are not receiving, to entertain us. i’m speaking on behalf of more than just blind readers, but everyone. you’re sick as hell.

i’ve summoned you to provide some information you may not already know. i know a lot of you like fonts. especially those who cross post their work on wattpad. i admire any and all acts of aestheticism to a degree, and can understand the desire to use them. (blind folk, sorry y’all. momma’s making a point.) 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔣𝔣 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰, it’s cute. 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 is a little cuter to me, if i had to choose. or maybe 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈?

now, sighted folk: if you’re on mobile, i implore you to participate in a little exercise for me. select this text and scroll through all the copy/paste/define/‘search the web’ options until you get to the speak portion. if you need to change a setting for your phone to do so, would you mind? i’d really appreciate it.

please make your phone read aloud part of my post, and be sure to include any bits with those super cute fonts. 𝕚’𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕪 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒, 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖. 𝕚 𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕝𝕪, 𝕚 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕤𝕢𝕦𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕥𝕪𝕡𝕠𝕤 𝕚 𝕔𝕒𝕟’𝕥 𝕤𝕖𝕖.

whether you participated and discovered it for yourself or you thought this was a crock of shit you’d rather not sniff, i’ll tell you! screen readers cannot dictate words using those fonts. at least, on a majority of devices. not mine, or any of my mutuals elsewhere.

you do not have to change your behavior on my behalf, but please be aware that fonts limit access to your work.

blind readers do exist, i exist, and i am bound by the same feelings of dogged longing that make other sad horny bitches read angsty, smutty, father-wounded nonsense.

thanks for making it this far. i really hope my sincerity is being conveyed, reading makes me so happy and i’m not the only person on this app who relies on accessibility settings more often than not. do with this information what you will, and have the day you deserve!

[ddejavvu]

grumpy beefy mando falling for soft!reader in her “grandma era” - all she wants to do is crochet, bake and frolic around the galaxy with mando and grogu 🫶🏽

"He doesn't like hats."

You glance up at Din from where you're testing a length of crocheted stitches beneath Grogu's chin, ensuring that the hat inspired by the local flora of the forest planet you've found shelter on won't fall off if he gets too rigorous in his play.

Grogu coos beneath the flower hat, but whether it's in agreement or protest you can't tell.

"He likes this one," You decide, when the little green terror before you doesn't fight as you maneuver his ears through their designated slots, "And he doesn't have to wear it if he doesn't want to."

Your fingers slip the little white button through the slot you've left in the band, and the hat is secured around Grogu's chin; the cutest little flower you ever did see.

"Oh, honey," You gush, scooping the child up and tucking him into your arms, "You wanna see your hat? C'mere, let's look."

You crouch in front of the tree stump that Din has settled on, holding Grogu up to the man's beskar chest plate. It's freshly polished, but not completely reflective, so at the right angle, Grogu catches a blurry, slightly distorted version of himself in a very pink hat.

His legs are still too small to kick in excitement, but his arms pick up the slack, flapping about while copious amounts of baby babble streams from his mouth. Evidently he's pleased with your handiwork.

Din stays silent while he offers his armor up for Grogu's viewing pleasure, but the child's hands soon find the soft strap beneath his chin and tug.

"I told you he didn't like hats..." Din murmurs, not to be cruel, but to fill empty space in the air when your shoulders deflate slightly.

"I thought he'd like it if it was softer," You hum sadly, helping Grogu take the button out of its clasp so that he can tug the hat off of his head, "I just figured he didn't like the helmet you gave him because it was uncomfortable."

As soon as you've freed Grogu from the confines of his flowery prison his hands slap against the shiny metal of Din's armor. He takes the child out of your hands but Grogu keeps his hat tightly clutched in his fist, and, with valiant effort, pushes the hat into Din's helmet, insistently cooing something that sounds suspiciously like buir.

Your giddiness returns, and you circle Din like a hawk, "Oh, you want your buir to wear it? Let's see," Amidst Din's protests you balance the too-small cap on his helmet, and he stills if only to save the hat from slipping and dying a muddy death on the ground below.

"It doesn't fit me." He grumbles, body stiff as he keeps it balanced on his head. Grogu seems pleased with his buir's new headpiece, squealing and showing off his newly-emerged teeth in a grin.

"I'll make you a matching one!" You declare, snatching the hat off of his helmet to give him the freedom of movement again, "Grogu, baby, what color should Din's be?"

"Bah!" Grogu decides, and your steps still where you're racing back towards your shelter.

"Uh... how about purple?" You suggest, and another resounding 'Bah.' is all the encouragement you need.

[popcornforone]

Petals

Chapter 1 of Womps Tattoos

Master list

Go back in time to 2018 me. No tattoos, no real knowledge of who Pedro Pascal is… today I’m looking forward to getting my 5th tattoo, one of Dins mask on my right leg. I am so excited for it. & so I started to write this because I believe it is cannon that Din is covered in Tattoos.

This is an out of universe Din, but characters from The Mandalorian are included in this. I know some of you don’t like that but I wanted to put Din in a different universe. He’s still our Tiny Shiny Tin Din. This may at some point turn into chapters.

Synopsis: After your first successful mission, it is tradition to get a tattoo which can be added to going forward, so you go to Womps after a colleagues recommendation, & get a lot more than just some ink.

Word count:4800

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Mentions of war & rebellion & death & trauma, this is just setting the world up mainly. Pining & hero status. Smutt will come later.

As always thank you all for the read my loves it’s really appreciated. All feed back is welcome.

“Mission complete” echos through your head set as you hear the last hostage has been taken to safety. Your first covert mission is complete & you sigh in relief that it went relatively smoothly. No one died & your job of scouting for the team & checking everyone’s welfare & status has gone well. It’s tradition that on your first mission you take a back seat to see how everything works, next time you will be on the second wave of attack going in as back up ready to help survivors &, if needs be, to take shots that will save others.

It is also tradition to start your tattoo after your first mission. It can be your choice what you go for, but it needs to be something that can be added too. Lots of the guys go for stars or bullets or a tally chart, simple & easy. But you want something that can grow much like you have since you’ve been given this second chance in life & have been brought up to live this life. You want a Tulip head on your right shoulder, which going forward you can add petals, stems & other flowers & floral decorations to it. You are blooming with your new purpose in life, so you think your growing tattoo should do the same.

“Womps is the best place to go to get your tattoo” Paz announces as you talk getting off the hanger. He’s been here for the last 8 years & is proud of the teeth his tiger on his back is growing. Today he lead the mission so he will be adding a cub to his tiger in the next few days. “The guy who runs it doesn’t say much, wears a hood & dark glasses all the time when he’s not actually tattooing, no one really sees his face, but he is one of our most decorated members of the team. He never got a tattoo at all, until he single handedly won the battle of Dantooine & then he…” he pauses. You are from Dantooine you know about the battle & the power struggle & the silver knight who concurred the insurgents who rebelled. You saw him in silver look down at you as you cowered in fear protecting your parents from the battle, the courage you’d displayed in your earlier exploits had disappeared. Paz can see your eyes thinking, even from behind your visor to obscure your face. “… well let’s just say he is a walking gallery now, he felt a grate sense of responsibility for what he did & since then he’s captured every moment & memory he has in ink. He brought the shop to make sure he could complete the tattoos on his body, but he learnt along the way. He now makes more of a living from body art then he does as a mercenary.”

“If this is who I think it’s about, is it true that no one has ever seen his back tattoo?” You ask stepping into the chemical pod for decontamination, nothing is getting into the base. “Nope no one, Rumour has it he was inspired by something for it, he is waiting for inspiration to strike again before he reveals it.”Paz giggles as you walk back to your rooms ready to remove your masks “I mean it’s all gossip, but we do miss him on some of our medium size missions, maybe one day when your more experienced & make point on a large mission, you will get to work with him, but in the mean time, his tattoos will do for now”. Paz parts to his bunk & so do you, finally able to remove your visor & mask. You know your face needs concealing for this job & it is for everybodys safety, however once you make a first wave your will receive a full helmet to wear, your mould is already cast ready for this. You only have to cover your face on base & everyone here has an alias. You could have met Paz in real life multiple times & never known it. You only have a number at the moment, your alias will eventually present itself to you.

You leave your bunk & check the availability at Womps. There’s a box you can tick for first time missions which you do. They know where most of their business comes from. There’s availability tonight at 9pm to be initiated. It says to make sure you eat 2hours before & to bring water with you. You don’t even check the name of who’s tattooing you, this place is recommended & comes with its own mythology, you request without hesitation the appointment. You leave & head out into the real world, in your normal clothes. All the other people just casually walking past of you. How many of them are familiar faces & voices that you know, but also have no idea if they are. You go to your home & eat before contacting your father to tell him about your mission. He’s now elderly & being looked after by your two younger sisters, while you live this new life & provide for the family. You miss them & you mourn your mother who died shortly after the battle & rebellion but that & your previous down hill spiral inspired you to be the person that you are today.

Womps is a short speeders ride away, at the back of the city, in a dimly lit shadowy area. Manoeuvring the Speeder is a bit of a challenge with all the people moseying around, looking in shops, carrying on their everyday life, having no idea exactly what you have done & what you will become. Reaching the tattoo place is a mission on its own, but you are pleasantly surprised when you get there. It’s not as run down as you had imagined in your mind. Green lights of every shade illuminate the shops sign. All the outside looks like it’s coated in beskar, the silver & tin gleaming & reflecting back at you. You automatically feel at home here, the vibe matches yours & you know already that you are looking forward to frequenting here on future occasions.

When you walk in there is a small little dum serise droid which leaps up & starts fussing about & runs into a counter a few time. “All right, all right” you hear come from the back. A lady with frizzy hair walks out, in rougher clothes torn through clearly her love of work, graft & craft that she is proud to were. “Now who do we have here?” The beam on her face as she looks you up & down & try’s to work you out & what you’re going to want. “Hi, I’m the 9pm?” You reply. “Oh I know that, I know that” she smirks “I’m Peli, I’m the face of the business as well you know, the main guy doesn’t show anyone his face, hell I’ve only seen it once & he screamed at me for 4 days afterwards.” She laughs & then sees the concerned look on your face “oooh don’t worry sweety, it’s okay, it just means he will keep his hood up & glasses on all the time he is looking at you, however those brown eyes, oooh once you see them, no eyes will ever look the same” your so intrigued as to who this man is but Peli gives you no time to think or dream. “You need to fill out these 3 forms of consent & then I’ll take you though, have you had an idea as to what you want your covert tattoo to be?” She asks as she leans on the counter while you sign your life away.

“I’m feeling a tulip, just starting with the head & the outline & then slowly creating a beautiful floral piece that goes down my shoulder & back” you say as the droid rushes up to you with a mask which you look at confused “aww ain’t that pretty, floral, he doesn’t often do such feline items but i know his outlining will be fantastic” Peli check over the paperwork & counter signs. “Now as your part of the covert, this is so he doesn’t see your face, as your tattoo will be on the top of your shoulder, once he isn’t facing you, you can remove it, but I’m sure you know the rules about privacy all to well. To me you’re just a happy friendly customer, im happy to see your face, but to him you are part of his creed, be it the first mission like today or your last, so please respect his rules.” You nod, the rules are important, you don’t want to break them even if you aren’t on the base. You slowly put the mask on, it’s black but light & has eye holes so you can see where you are going & Peli leads you into his tattoo room. “Fresh meet Mando” she shouts as she pushes you through the door frame & leaves you in the room alone.

Ornate frogs decorate the top of the walls, guns & weapons take pride of place on the shelves along with several helmets & visors, all damaged. Letters from those whose lives he has made better pinned across the ceiling, which has a huge Mythosaur painted across it, half in silver, the other in dark green. The work bench is tidy, ready to go & so is the bench for you to sit on while he creates his art, except for one little thing. At the end of the bench is this small creature almost child like, sitting there in a brown robe. It’s eating macaroons, but is getting them out of the packet on the snack table & using the force to get them. You make a little gasp noise & the creature turns around & coos at you. “Hello buddy, you okay” you walk across to him & kneel next to him stroking his head which makes him smile & his ears twitch. His hand raises to touch your face as those big eyes look into yours.

“He likes you” comes a gruff voice from behind, one full of sorrow, but also feels a bit lustful. You quickly stand up & turn around. Standing before you is a towering man, wearing black & silver robes, sleeveless so you can see all of his tattoos trailing up & down his arms, his clothing is tight, you can see all of his abs, a chest so well defined. His mercenary boots still worn above his ripped jeans & his outer robe is hodded so it covers part of his face. Big mirror reflective glasses cover his eyes & a bandanna is around his mouth. You can see his necklaces handing outside of him robes too. “Sorry I didn’t mean to disturb him, he’s just a sweet little…” “Womp rat” the man says, “that was my name for him until he joined my clan, I rescued him & now he is mine to teach. His name is Grogu” Grogu responds to his dad. “Hi Grogu, I’m…” but your remember what Peli said “I’m 8944, m1, I’ve yet to be give a proper covert name yet” you smile. The man sighs, seeing that you & Grogu already have a strong connection, & he uses the force to get a macaroon for you to eat as well. “I’m Din” the man finally says after sighing watching Grogu use the force for food.

He picks up Grogu who automatically try’s to start taking off his hood “no buddy, we have guests, you need to go with Aunt Peli okay” Grogu then coos & looks across at you who is still smiling at the child & then looks back at Din & he garbles something, Din then sighs, looks back at you & then Grogu, “maybe, but only time will tell.” Peli then walks in & takes Grogu & the child & I wave at each other goodbye. “Sorry about that, he’s young & gets up to mischief. Please take a seat on the bench.” Din points at the seating bench where the child had just sat, & you wipe a few crumbs away before you sit down.

“So first mission,” Din says as he starts to prepare what he needs to tattoo you. “Congratulations, I’m guessing if the missions keep going well, we will keep seeing each other” Din is smiling behind his bandanna covering his mouth, something about you seems familiar. “Yea first of many, you came highly recommended by Paz, he’s training me” “he’s still going?” Din cackles, “I told him to give it up this year, he has a boy now, he needs to take things a little slower now he has responsibilities, but he always was married to his work” Din sits down on a stool & scoots across the room to you. He’s in line with you & he grabs your hand. For hands that are so large & firm, he makes beautiful find art. He hold yours with both of his.

“Before we start, & I know it’s tradition, but these tattoos aren’t for everyone. Just because it’s what people do, doesn’t mean that it’s for you. I want to make sure that you are aware of that. Do you understand what I am saying” his rough tones to his voice also have a calming influence on you. A soothing manner to this dark mysterious man who kills. “Yes Din I do, I have a small tattoo from back home else where, but I want this” Din then leans over & grabs his sketch book & flicks through a few pages before showing you a small simple tulip outline. “This is what I propose to start with, this way, if you don’t enjoy this you still have a completed tattoo, no one will judge you badly, but you will still have something to show for it” it’s such a simple outline that Din has drawn, but it’s exactly what you want, it’s like he some how knew. “Let’s get to it Din” you say with a smile, you know it will sting, but it will so be worth it.

“Take off your shirt, & your right bra strap. I need you to sit on the bench for me facing away from me” Din lifts up part of the front of the bench, so you can lean on it to keep still while he tattoos you. “Once your face away from me, you can take off your mask, but I need you to keep it close incase I need you to put them on at any moment” “yes Din” you unbutton your green shirt & put it to the side & slide off your right black bra strap. Din then starts to braid your long sleek black hair as you sit down & face away from him, & remove your face mask. “It’s easier if i do this, it makes you more comfortable with me & it also makes sure your hair isn’t in my way” every time Din accidentally touches your skin, it gives you goosebumps, ones of desire, never has just a man’s voice made you feel so much. The damp cloth he uses is cold, enough to numb your skin but not make you over react.

“Ready? Last chance?”Din whispers into your ear softly as you hear the vibrations from the needle. You notice his large over sized glasses are now on the table next to you. The temptation to turn around is huge but you know the rules, it’s not fair on either of you if you do that. “Yes Din I am” you sigh & then you gasp slightly as the needle breaks through the skin & into your flesh. The first few pricks always hurt the most, but after that the sensation of the pain is incredible. Almost soothing despite its sting. “Still good?” Din asks as he dips the needle into more paint. “Keep going.” Your shoulders relax as Din really starts work on your tulip outline.

“So why did you join the covert, you’re not from around here?” Din asks a few minutes into his creations. “I’m from Dantooine” Din stops, for a second as you say that. Clearly he was there as his sigh is very deep, you can feel the sorrow in his tone. “Did you lose anyone?” He asks softly before returning to doing your tattoo. “Not directly, we were lucky, however due to the memories of the revolution my mothers health took a turn, she was stressed & emotionally ruined & never got over it & then…” “you don’t need to say anymore, unless you want to 8944” Din interrupts, clearly hearing your voice strain a little. “What happened was atrocious for both sides, however there is now peace & a government that listens to its people & respects their vote.” “My father & my two younger sisters are still there, helping rebuilding their lives & the planet, but I wanted to contribute more that just that, so I came here to Theed & joined the covert to try & find my clan & place in the galaxy. I used to fly & build speeders back home & organise races which picked up a lot of attention so my skills when I applied to join the covert were really appreciated & that I’d be a valued asset to the team.”

“Was there a moment during the revolution that made you want to leave, or did you hide & were you safe?” Din asks as he starts work on the next petal, admiring how smooth your skin is & how relaxed you are as he creates his art. He slides his hood down as he’s starting to over heat & lowers his bandanna so it’s not across his mouth. If you turned around now his face is uncovered & youd see his big brown eyes & a smile that would make everyone swoon if they were able to see it.

“I had to protect my family & business but I knew I wasn’t ready for war, but there was this moment of vulnerability after my earlier courage, when I saw the silver knight. He wore all his beskar & just glanced at me & all I remember were his words which were*Talent without training…” but as you complete the sentence he says it in unison “…is nothing”. We both pause, the hum of the needle stops & I hear his breath catch.

“Were you from the upper side of the market by the lake?” He asks “yesssss” your reply is drawn out from nerves you’re suddenly very tense. His empty hand cups your chin & positions your face to look at the nearest helmet, the one that’s gleaming, the one that looks like it is ready to be worn at any given second. “I am the silver knight” he finishes & you shiver & start to well up.

“Din you saved us. You single handedly ended the war, you protected so many people, you saw so many atrocities, how can I ever repay you, silver knight I am in your service, I am yours” you pledge your allegiance on the spot to the silver knight. This Mandalorian changed & saved your life & made you a better person & now a man who is capable of doing horrific things, is delicately & softly tattooing your back like he’s just a normal guy. “save your pledge for the covert” Din replies when he returns to his senses, he is having his own moment trying to place you exactly, but he thinks he knows who you truely are. “they need you more than I do” “but the world needs you fighting it’s battles Din, your the best at what you do. What you did for my people, we will always be grateful for” you start rambling again in a nervous energy & Din shhhhs you. “Petal please, calm down, it’s okay, maybe when you come back to the next part of the tattoo we can discuss it a little more. Because I need you to understand something about me…” Din states as he starts work on the top of stem of your tulip “I’m not a good person & I think that mission made me even worse or better, but as long as you have peace & are happy on Dantooine now, then we can save that chat for another day” his tone is husky & his breathing is fast but his hands & crafting as still so delicate that you almost forgot that you were being tattooed. “Yes Mando” you reply. You can’t see him smile behind you but if you could, it would be the biggest smile you’ve seen in years on anyone’s face, he loves it when people call him that.

He asks you about your family & how you are finding the covert & life now you’re here in Theed, which is different from your home world. It’s just simple small talk but you feel each little bit of information you give, you gain more trust with him, it’s like he’s testing to see if you are going to make it or not. He feels comfortable & connected with you as he finalises the last few lines on your stem.

“Right I think we are done but I need you to not freak out at what I’m about to do okay, do you trust me?” Din asks as he puts the needle down “I’ve trusted you with my life Din before, I’m sure this will…. Ahhhhhhh” you’re interrupted as cool water is poured over your fresh tattoo to clean it & it stings & it makes you gasp. “What was that?” You screech. “Water…” “yes I worked that part out Sherlock but why…” “if you’d let me finish…” he tuts & you gasp as a bit more is dabbed onto you this time “water from the living waters of Mandalor, where everything is forgiven & we are re born.” He says calmly. “By going on a mission today you are on your journey, to joining our covert & pledging yourself to this life for a minimum 5 year period. Part of your new life is a rebirth so it’s only right that I should christen your tattoo with some of our water.” This all makes sense now & you appreciate the small gesture from Din. It does make you feel more like you belong to this group of people now, a more spiritual connection.

“I need you to close your eyes for a few minutes while i position you by the mirror so you can see the flower & what I propose to do going forward” Din says & you immediately shut your eyes tight & feel the bench be wheeled slightly ready for you to turn your head so you can see what he’s done. Din looks at you with your eyes shut & he goes to grab his glasses but he sees your bottom lip quiver slightly, from excitement at seeing your new tattoo. His thumb trails across your chin as he turns your head & he watching all the tension rise in your body at his touch. He knows now what Grogu saw in you. Grogu from your stroke of him to Din then holding his child, knows that this is a deeply personal connection & one that he knows he will relish each time your name appears on his list of clients. He wants his hands to flow across your skin more than the ink & for all of a few seconds he think of kissing you to sooth away the past pain that the two of you have. But he is a man of honour & of his creed & covert. He will ask you for your consent whenever he touches you be it for tattooing, kissing or anything further that may blossom between you.

You can feel his fingers as they move your face to the right place. You also notice your face still has nothing on. He’s not covered it. As much as your eyes are shut he can see all your features. Maybe this is a test to see if you dare to look upon the silver knight in all his glory. But you remain strong & keep your eyes shut, scrunching them so you don’t even sneak a little peak. “Open your eyes” Din whispers in your ear. It’s a deep & shallow whisper, making every nerve in your body leap to attention, you had no idea Din was even kneeling next to you. You hear him move & you look back at the mirror facing you. Your Tulips outline is beautiful, crisp & neat, like it was about to be animated by Disney for its next princess story. You are in love with it & you can’t wait to see how far it grows along with you over the next few years. It’s only then you realise Dins hood is up over his head & he’s facing the other way so he can’t see your eyes glistening in delight at your new ink.

“I’m guessing by the silence & gasps you like it” Din states as he put his glasses on & you yourself reach for your face mask “Din this is wonderful, I can’t wait to add to this, I’m looking forward to my next mission to see what you will add next.” You say & then put your face mask on. He glance as you do this & you voice muffles slightly so he turns back around, face covered once again, hood up. Looking all moody & broad. “First tattoos are on the house” he says “just make sure you come back to me for the rest of your flower & I’ll know if you don’t” he chuckles. You roll your eyes at him under your mask. “Din you’re the only man I trust to make this even more beautiful, your hands work magic, thank you”. You say & you put your green shirt back on & Din discusses the after care with you as it’s his job to do so.

“Well thank you very much Din. This has been a day I will never forget” you say as you ready yourself to leave “yea first missions & tattoos are a big step…” “actually…” you interrupt which stops him in his tracks. If you could see his eyes you’d see they were livid that you interrupt him “I met my hero today, you. Without you I wouldn’t be here or know peace for my people so thank you” you walk back towards Din & clutch both his hands as a promise. “When my time comes I will pledge allegiance to your covert” Din is taken a back by this but before he can protest, as you are on your way out saying good bye to Peli, Grogu & her droids.

“Since when are the first tattoos free Mando?” Peli screeches after she watches you ride off on your speeder. “They aren’t, but she’s the reason I’m here, she has no idea who she is, & I want her to just think that she’s normal for a small amount of time” Din says, his hood coming down as he tidied up & then picks up Grogu so he’s back on the bench. “Why who is she?” Peli ask “she the flower that cures all” Din declares. Peli looks confused & then it clicks… “oooh wow no wonder Grogu wanted to come see you both & not stay with me”.

You admire your tattoo when you get back home & take a picture to send to your family. It’s only then that you realise your hair is still braided, from when Din did it at the start. You go to undo it but you don’t, you leave it. While your tattoo heals, this braid will remind you for as long as you have it, about those delicate hands the silver knight has as he looked through your soul & made you at ease. This will be your calming influence going forwards. That the man who was your safety & salvation is now in your life. What you have no idea of is how what you did that day helped shape both your lives as to what they are now.

Chapter 2

[itshelia]

Me when I see another fic series that I've been following for decades isn't posting anymore, and won't probably post ever again: (it got canceled)

[endlessthxxghts]

Solace

Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x afab!reader || W/C: 4.3k

Summary: You help Din release his frustrations after he comes back from a weeklong hunt.

Content/Warnings: Canon divergent around season 3 (no Grogu here; one tiny reference to Living Waters). Reader is able-bodied, but there are no specific physical descriptions. Pet names for both reader and Din (fem pet names for reader). Implied established relationship (you've seen his face and call him Din) - THEY'RE IN LOVE. Reader knows a bit of Mando'a. Helmet comes off. 18+ MDNI. This is 100% porn. Boot riding...blanket..riding...(there's a lot of riding lolz). Multiple orgasms. Cunnilingus. Din is a talker when his mouth isn't occupied. Blow job/face fucking. Unprotected P in V sex. Reader is on whatever form of birth control they have in space LMAO, so #twinkie time😋. Hints of a breeding kink. Praise kink (lots of it). Switch BDSM dynamics. Soft Dom!Din along with subby/desperate!Din. Sub!Reader and soft Dom!Reader. Please let me know if I missed anything! Xx

A/N: First picture was made by @djarin-desires, and honestly, this whole oneshot was inspired by this post they made! I literally could not stop thinking about these pictures all day, so I just had to write my ✨thots✨ down. I hope you enjoy!! Other two photos are found on Pinterest - middle does not represent anything about reader’s physical appearance.

MASTERLIST || FIC NOTIFS BLOG

“Oh, shit-” you gasp. “Din, please,” eyes rolling back in pleasure, your body shivering in its nakedness compared to his fully armored form. 

“What is it, sweet girl?” he coos, his fingers caressing your cheekbone, pushing the hair from your eyes. 

“Need- stars- need more,” you cry out, your current situation proving to only bring you to the edge, but not carry you off of it. 

“One more like this, cyar’ika, then I’ll give you what you want,” Din reassures you, his leather-clad thumb running across your bottom lip, hooking himself in your mouth for you to make a mess of. “I wanna see that boot soaked, you hear me?”

Din always gets like this when he comes back from a weeklong bounty hunt. He gets hard. Dominating. In need of control. To take back the situation that got out of hand. 

You were sitting on the ground cleaning one of his blasters when he came in. He was tense. Weirdly quiet. He’s always quiet, but not with you, not for a few years now. He threw the bounty into the carbon and froze him, his chest plate rising with every breath. You knew him well enough now to know when he’s seething, and this was it. 

“Din?” you called out softly. 

He just points his helmet at you, the visor staring you down. 

“Everything okay?”

“What do you think?” He responds rather harshly.

“...Din,” you whisper, feeling every ounce of anger in those four words.

You like how it ends in these situations, though. It always ends with him a whimpering mess beneath you. There’s usually some kind of switch. He takes a third orgasm out of you, and always on the third, he becomes needy. Desperate. He just wants to be inside of you. To be balls deep and stay there, to release all of his tension while being wrapped up in you. 

You’re his solace. His warmth. His home. He always needs you. But right now, he needs his control back, so even though it’s you who’s in control by the end of the night, you stay prettily on your knees and obey dutifully. 

“I hear you, Din,” you struggle to get out with his thumb holding your tongue down, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth. 

Your thighs are on fire from your constant back and forth motion, the squelch of your slick rubbing across his shoe sending blood straight to his groin. He can feel himself itching to make you rise, to spread your legs and split you open until he can’t hold himself up anymore. But he knows you’re close even though you whine and plea for more. He knows your tells—the way your eyes struggle to stay open, the sweat beading at your temples, the way you slowly start to clamp down harder and harder on his thumb. His personal favorite, though, he discovered in this new position, is the way you start hugging tighter onto his leg, your chest rubbing against his thigh plate in an attempt to cool yourself off, but you’re just so close, the cool beskar doing nothing to ease the heat. 

“Just like that, pretty girl, come on,” Din groans, the sight before him truly testing his strength. You two have done many things together, but this? This is something new, and Din isn’t sure how long he can last. “I know you can give me one more, baby. Just one more, and then I get to feel you, come on,” he pleads, voice bubbling up into a whine. 

Oh, he’s starting to break, already? 

The thought is what sends you over, your hips stuttering in their rhythm as your arousal pours out of you, your clit shooting a sharp sensation up your spine at the sensitivity. “Dank farrik, you’re so damn gorgeous when you cum all over me, baby, so so gorgeous,” he pulls his thumb out and spreads your drool across your mouth, cradling your cheek softly in his palm as you shake in his grasp.

“Oh, fuck- oh yes, yesyesyes, Din,” you sob, head falling back between your shoulder blades. 

“Oh, my sweet girl, Maker, you’re so beautiful,” he coos, leaning down to let the forehead of his helmet rest against yours, your hot breath fogging his visor. He smiles to himself as his vision blurs momentarily. 

Din’s hands situate themselves beneath your armpits, pulling you up to your feet and supporting you as you allow your limp legs to gain their strength again. “Can I taste you, cyar’ika?” He asks as he wraps his arms around your waist, guiding you to sit on the armory crate in the corner of the hull. 

“Thought you said you wanted to feel me?” you retort, a small smirk forming on your flushed face. 

“Yeah,” he says as he drops down to his knees. “My tongue goes first.” Even with his helmet on, you can still hear the shit-eating grin with his comment. 

Din reaches for his helmet, the hiss of air signifying it’s about to come off never fails to cause butterflies to erupt in your belly. The minute his chocolate brown eyes meet yours, your heart grows two sizes greater. Your hands reach for his face. “There’s my pretty boy,” you whisper. 

His heart nearly jumps out of his chest at your words. He turns his head to kiss your palm. “My pretty girl,” he responds, bashful. “Lean back, baby.” You lay yourself back, body resting against the metal wall as his hands settle underneath you. 

Din brings himself forward, the flat of his tongue starting at the bottom of you and licking upwards—slowly, thoughtfully, calculated. He takes his time moving through your soaked folds, as if he’s mapping it out for the first time even though he’s mapped your body more times than the amount of bounties under his belt. 

The way you moan under his touch has him groaning into you, his fingers tightening their hold, his face more flush against you. He can’t get enough. His licks turn less controlled and more hungry; he uses his lips to help rub the surrounding area as he suckles every part of you he can, drinking you in, bathing in your slick as if to reclaim himself, as he did not too long ago in the Living Waters of Mandalore. His nose nudges your sensitivity as his tongue claims your entrance, the softness of your walls dancing with the softness of his tongue makes you breathless. 

Your fingers find their way into his curls, grabbing on in an attempt to ground yourself, to keep your soul beside him as he brings you to the brink of ecstasy for the fourth time since he’s been back. You whimper in distaste as his tongue leaves your hole, but the disappointment is quickly replaced by a whimper of desperation when his mouth wraps around your throbbing bud and he sucks. “Just- oh, fuck, Din- just like that,” you let out, your hips involuntarily lifting to buck into his face.

He’s quick to bring his mouth back down to your entrance, licking up every drop of the sweet nectar you always keep him full with. His nose massages your bundle as he drinks from you, and the action prolongs your climax and syrupy moans; Din works to pull as much as he possibly can from you. It’s been a week of rations and shitty meals he can sneak. So when such a delicacy is placed before him, solely for his taking, oh, he’s not going to waste a single drop. 

By the time he’s satisfied, the bottom half of his face is covered in your shine, the armory crate’s ledge is soaked, and you’re completely blissed out—face flushed and sweaty, tired eyes, a weak smile… to the average eye, you appear properly satiated. Although, Din knows that you are far from it.

“You alright, sweet girl?” Din asks, rising to his full height again. He brings his hand out for you to take, pulling you up to stand. Delaying your answer, you wrap your hands around his neck and pull him in for a messy, open-mouthed kiss, all tongue with your flavor embedded in each and every one of his taste buds. You moan into the kiss, pulling away with a bite to his plump bottom lip. “Perfect, baby,” you smile, pulling him to the makeshift bed—a pile of blankets—in the hull that you two sleep in. 

You drop yourself down onto your knees, beginning to work his armor off from his legs as he starts on his shoulders. With you helping, he’s down to his flight suit in no time, and your mouth salivates at the sight. As soon as the last clink of the precious metal leaves his body, you’re leaning your face into him, into his bulge, pressing sweet little kisses to its covered form. You can hear Din’s breath hitch, his cock twitching under your touch. “Need you in my mouth, Din,” you say as you look up at him, his eyes already hooded over at the sight of your mouth near his length. “My turn to taste you, huh, pretty boy?” You ask in a teasing tone, his face too hot to register that you’re waiting for a response from him. 

He finally registers the question when your hand dips into his bottoms, his hardness meeting your hand eagerly. You look at him expectantly. 

Although technically it’s his cock’s turn to feel you, he cannot bring himself to deny you or your skillful mouth. He cannot bring himself to deny anything you want, really. “Y-yeah- yes, baby, your turn,” he says shakily, the anticipation putting his body into sensitivity overdrive. 

He helps rip the rest of his flight suit off, and without giving him a second to breathe, you’re already spitting in your palm and working the length of him the way you know he loves. You use your mouth in tandem, your tongue licking from his base to his tip, and instantly, a loud whimper comes from the back of Din’s throat at this particular touch. 

You’re delighted by his reaction, so you repeat the motion a few more times to pull more of those sweet sounds out. “My baby is so sensitive here, isn’t he?” You pump him with your hand as you speak, placing a wet kiss to his tip when the foreskin pulls back to expose it. 

“Kriff…” he moans, his head suddenly too heavy to maintain upright. “Mesh’la, please,” Din begs. 

With one more kiss to the tip, you stop your hand’s movement completely. “Please what, baby? Use those words, honey,” you look up at him, eyes wide and full of promises to please—as soon as he vocalizes what he wants. 

His chest is heaving already at the sight of you, on your knees and looking up at him again, yet this time around, you’re the one calling the shots. 

He prefers it this way, he thinks. Sure, he comes back from a particularly frustrating hunt and ends up taking his stress out on you. Sure, it’s the most beautiful sight seeing you so worked up and at his mercy. But he is always the one in the driver seat—calculating everyone’s every turn, every action before they even have the chance to act. Din’s mind is always active, always alert. Yet, when you have him like this, in this yielding state, it’s like his mind gets to be quiet. With you, under your touch and under your gaze, Din is able to exist in your presence without a worry. He’s finally able to just be. Not a bounty hunter, not the big and tough Mandalorian everyone fears. No, he’s Din. Your Din. Your sweet boy. Yours. And that’s the greatest honor to ever bestow upon him. At least, that’s how he sees it anyway. 

“Y-your mouth, mesh’la, p-please,” he says softly. Your eyebrow quirks up. You want just a little bit more. “Want your- need your mouth on me, baby, please,” he breathes out, attempting and failing to ease the neediness in his voice. 

You hum triumphantly before you begin pumping him again, your hand focusing on his base while your mouth lavishes his leaking head. You swirl your tongue around, the salty flavor of him quick to override your senses, and Din lets out a strangled moan, his hips softly bucking in your grasp. 

Your hand releases him, letting your mouth take full control. You grab onto his thick thighs for stability, breathing through your nose as you let the tip of him reach as far back as you can handle. He gasps when he hits the back of your throat, the twitch of his body triggering your gag reflex, your throat tightening in on where he’s most sensitive. “Oh, fuck,” he grunts, fighting his hips to stay in place and let you do your thing. 

You garble something incoherent, humming into his cock as you pull yourself on and off of him a few more times. Pulling back for a small breather, you use your finger to collect up the spit-arousal mixture from the sides of your mouth and pump it on his erection, his hips twitching once again at your ministrations. 

You know what he really wants right now, but with his head in cloud nine, you know he’ll never ask for it himself. “You wanna fuck my mouth, Din?” You ask bluntly. 

His entire face and chest turn red faster than the speed of light. He sputters in his response. “I- oh my Maker, mesh’la, is that- are- are you sure? I-”

You cut him off by leaning in to kiss his thigh. He softens in your touch. “Din, pretty boy, it’s a yes or no. One word. Choose.” 

“Yes,” he replies, not a single hesitation in sight. 

“Good boy,” you purr. “See what happens when you say what you want from me?”

You shift yourself to a more comfortable position sitting on your haunches, fluffing the blankets underneath you to soften the ache of the metal floor. You look up to Din who’s watching you eagerly but with a softness that tells you to take all your time in the world. Doing this isn’t just for him, though. Letting him take control of you here turns you on just as much as it does him, maybe even more. 

You take one more glance into his thirsty eyes, and, well, okay… maybe he enjoys this slightly more. Nonetheless, you don’t take your time because you can feel the butterflies in your core beginning to flap once again as Din brings himself closer to you, lining himself up with your mouth.

“Don’t waste this opportunity, Djarin. Better use me good, yeah?” You tease, leaning your head back slightly as you stick your salivating tongue flat out, waiting for him to enter. 

His entire body shivers at your words. “Yes, ma’am,” he says under his breath, focusing on easing himself into your mouth as steady as possible, trying to maintain some ounce of self-restraint he’s inevitably going to lose. 

Once his tip is in your mouth, his hands find their home rooted at the base of your air, his thumb reaching forward to caress the apple of your cheeks. He doesn’t move at first, apprehensive in the case he might hurt you. He’s always like this at the beginning, and every single time, you reassure him it’s okay. 

You let out a muffled mhm, his signal to keep going. Din’s fingers flex, guiding your head further in as his hips slowly meet you halfway. He’s holding his breath, you can tell in the way his belly twitches. But the moment your swallow reflex triggers around him, he’s gone. “Oh, shit-” he moans ragged, his hips never fully retreating before he’s bucking into you again. “Oh, sweet girl, fuck-” he gasps. “Always so perfect, feel so perfect around me, stars, baby-” he praises, his hips moving at a comfortable, steady pace now. 

You moan around him, eyes rolling back at how good and heavy he feels coasting the expanse of your tongue. Your spit drips further down your chin and neck with each thrust, the messiness of it all mirroring itself between your thighs. Your hands leave the expanse of your thighs and reach for the blankets underneath you. As best as you can, you shuffle them in between you, using it to grind your hips on it, giving you a much needed relief. The material catches on your clit deliciously, pulling a muffled gasp from your throat, sending the sensation up Din’s spine. 

“Oh, fuck, look at you,” he groans, his eyes fighting to stay open at the raw pleasure coursing through his veins as he starts thrusting into you harder, faster. “So pretty, baby, fuck- thank you, pretty girl,” he rambles. “Maker, you feel so damn good.” 

Your moans and whines don’t stop, they reverberate off each metal wall and into his ears, providing him with the sweetest song. Din, ever the talker, is long lost in the way you feel and the way you move. 

“Keep moving those hips, sweet girl, rub that pretty pussy on our blankets, baby.” 

“Gonna cum like that again, baby? Gonna make a mess where we sleep?” 

“Shit, gonna make me lick it up and clean it? Please make me clean it, baby,” he whines, his hips beginning to falter. 

The last thing he says to you is what sends you over the edge, your fingers gripping the blankets below you, bringing it flush against your core as if it were Din’s curls you’re hanging onto. Your hips speed up, chasing the orgasm that is just right there, and with one last thrust forward, you’re cumming. You’re breathing heavily through your nose, tears streaming down your face as you whimper around his dick, begging for the one thing you know he’s not gonna give you. 

With a few more thrusts, you can feel his cock start to twitch, and just as you suspected, he pulls out of you before he can finish. 

“Baby, no,” you cry, leaning yourself forward, chasing after him. Right away, he’s dropping down to his knees, hands still on either side of your face as he’s finally eye level with you. 

“Baby, cyar’ika, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please,” he repents, his chest rising and falling heavily, still out of breath from edging himself. “I just- I didn’t- I… I wanted to cum somewhere else, baby,” his voice falls quieter, shyer. 

Your scowl fades, forming into a more mischievous demeanor, more hungry. You can’t quite argue his reasoning. Because, you, too, would very much like him to finish… elsewhere. “Yeah, baby?” You taunt. “And where do you wanna cum, sweet boy?”

He swallows thickly, his needy eyes on yours, blacked with a ferality he’s addicted to. “In- inside,” he whispers. 

“Inside?” you’re quick to repeat. “Wanna cum inside me, sweet boy? Fill me up? I’ve made so many messes today, is it your turn to make one, baby?”

He leans in to meet your kiss, but you pull away slightly. Answer me, your face tells him. 

“Y-yeah- yes, stars, yes- fuck- please, baby, I wanna cum inside you, wanna make a mess of you so fucking bad, please-” he starts to answer. Satisfied, you cut him off with your lips on his.

You wrap your arms around his neck, lips never breaking the seal, you pull him over you as you lay yourself down on your guys’ bed, scooting farther up for your head to reach a pillow, your back barely missing your puddle of arousal. Din multitasks, grabbing one of the other near pillows and placing it underneath your hips as your body lands on the ground. Your legs are already hooked onto his waist, not giving him the space to stray too far. 

Once you’re settled, Din’s hand is cradling the back of your head while the other reaches for his cock, covered in your wetness and leaking with his own arousal. He guides himself to you, running his tip along your slick folds, stopping to tap on your clit before bringing himself back down to your entrance. He breaks the kiss when he does this, his eyes laser focused on where you two connect. His hand on the back of your head pushes to angle you down, so you can watch, too, both of you observing and listening to the lewdness of it all. 

Finally, his head catches at your entrance, pushing himself in slowly. He’s always a stretch, always something you’ll never quite really get used to, but you love the feeling. Obsessed, even. There are some days where you rile him up on purpose just so he gives it to you, no preparation or foreplay. On those days, he has you screaming, your fingernails digging deep into his back to tether yourself to reality in some kind of way. On his softer days, you have to beg him to, reassure him that it doesn’t hurt—in a bad way. 

As soon as he’s seated all the way to the hilt, he pulls back out entirely before he thrusts back in. You both moan out at the action, your pussy immediately releasing a fresh new wave of arousal around him. “Oh, fuck,” you both mutter at the same time, your eyes meet, and a euphoric smile graces each of your faces. 

“Y-you feel so good, baby, s-so fucking big,” you mewl, your hands tightening their hold around his neck, both the tips of your noses kissing each other. 

“It’s like you were made- fuck-” he stutters, his hips slowing for a brief moment, allowing himself to really feel you. “It’s like I was made for you,” he corrects himself. “I was made for you,” he says again, leaning in to slot his lips against yours.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” you say against his lips. I love you. “And I was made for you,” you squeak out, your head bobbing back and forth as the pleasure brings your mind further and further into space. 

“Shit, mesh’la,” he grits between his teeth. His hips speed up at that, loving the way his native tongue sounds on yours. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” he repeats back to you. “I’m yours, cyar’ika. Yours,” he murmurs, his head crashing into the crook of your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting at the sweaty flesh. 

He sits up on his haunches for a second, hooking the crook of his elbows into your knees before leaning back over you—the angle allowing him to hit so deep and allowing his pubic area to stimulate your pulsing nerve with every thrust in—you scream out as he repeatedly makes you feel things that no one has ever been able to do, not even yourself. 

“Din,” you keen, his name leaving your mouth like a sinful prayer. “Din, baby, please, I think I’m gonna- fuck-”

“Gonna cum again for me, pretty girl?” He smirks. “Fuck, I’m never gonna stop saying this- you’re so fucking perfect. Come on, baby, cum for me, fucking soak me. Soak me before I make you fucking overflow with me, my sweet girl,” he snarls, his lips meeting yours in a bruising kiss, truly a dance of tongue and spit as he fucks into you at the same pace that brought you to yet another climax. 

Your hands yank on his fluffy curls, back arching into his body as much as this restricting angle allows you to. “Din, oh my-! Fuck- so fucking good, fuck-” you wail out, your heart beating out of your chest as your pussy pulses around his cock, making an utter mess between your two lower halves. 

The flutter of you and the instant wetness consuming him is what sends Din to his finish line. He continues thrusting, shakily, through his own orgasm, his load coating every inch of you, both inside and out. You wanted a mess, so he truly gave you a mess. 

He releases the hold on your legs to wrap his arms around you, his entire body flush against yours as your legs wrap themselves tightly around him again. He’s still inside you, his hips softly still moving in and out as he leaves kisses all along your lips, your jawline, your neck. 

The way you feel, full of him and him, has your hips meeting his small advances, both of you reveling in the aftershock of your highs as you use the pleasure to ease you back down. 

“You okay, mesh’la?” Din asks eventually when you both come to an exhausted, satiated halt. 

“Perfect, my sweet boy,” you smile, repeating your sentiment from earlier. “You okay, though?” You ask hesitantly, and not about what you two just did together. He brings his lips to yours. Soft, and not in a way to arouse you again. In a way that says thank you and I love you in a way spoken tongue will never be able to convey.

“I will be,” he answers truthfully. “Pick a planet, you can pick me apart after we get food.”

“Sounds like a deal, baby.”

“Come, let’s get cleaned up.” He kisses your forehead before he untangles himself and pulls you up to your feet as well, both of you making your way to the refresher. 

In the corner of his eye, he sees his now semi-shiny boot, starting to dry off in the midst of everything else you two did. He smirks to himself. 

You catch it, of course. “What’re you smiling at, Djarin?”

“Nothing,” he says nonchalantly. “Just… I clean my armor and boots after every bounty.”

“And?” You ask, still not realizing where he’s headed. 

“I don’t know if I wanna clean my boots anymore.”

Your eyebrows raise to the middle of your forehead, eyes bulging out of your face. “Din!” you slap his chest. Then, your face goes stern. “You will be cleaning those boots more often if you want me to do that again."

Oh. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

End notes:

Thank you so much for reading, I really hope you guys enjoyed this one! Please let me know what you guys think, I really love hearing your guys’ reactions and feedback!🫶

Also, did y’all clock how many orgasms reader had in this damn thing?! Coochie of fucking steel fr 😭😭

Moon divider by @saradika-graphics 🩶

@pedrostories

[morgpeko]

Hurt/comfort this, enemies to lovers that, NO ONE talk about the joys of crack treated seriously

[biggestsimponhere]

The next person i see make the reader or OCs love interest call them “kid” is gonna get clocked in the face. That’s not something you say to your ROMANTIC love interest. Like how’re you gonna call them kid but also want to fuck? Explain that to me please. Because you say kid and i think youre my new father figure. You all need to be STOPPED.

[yeollie-plz]

12 Days Of Pedromas ‘23

Starting December 14th, I am going to be doing a post everyday until Christmas to celebrate Pedro and the holiday season!

Extra info here!

Day One: Hate sex with Costar! Pedro Pascal

Day Two: Virgin! Reader x dbf! Joel Miller

Day Three: 3some with Frankie Morales and a special guest

Day Four: Phone sex with Pedro Pascal

Day Five: Wedding night and breeding kink with Joel Miller

Day Six: Cockwarming with Din Djarin

Day Seven: Pool Sex with Exhibitionist! Agent Whiskey

Day Eight: Lactation Kink! Joel Miller

Day Nine: Stripper! Reader x Javier Pena

Day Ten: Pegging with Oberyn Martell

Day Eleven: One night stand with Frankie Morales

Day Twelve: Rough sex with Din Djarin

Make sure to keep an eye out for all the posts and enjoy reading! 😉

Main Pedro Masterlist

[undercoverpena]

cold, lips blue

din djarin x f!reader | masterlist

summary: din takes you to see the snow, and then uses his body heat to warm you up.

warnings: softest smut soft!din. p in v. no use of y/n. loosely season one/two. same reader as isn't it - but no requirement to read. wordcount: 3.1k

With him, you’re discovering wonderlands.

Eyes finding places your dreams couldn’t even manifest, dream or conjure—shades coming to life, appearing in mixed colours and strong hues.

Each sight makes your heart do a double take as you steal extra seconds from plans to take it all in.

Today’s wonder is all white.

It’s littered with occasional grey stones and slightly blued pebbles. The piles of them doing their best to intersperse, to be a break in the rolling snow-covered hills. Provide some form of depth, give something for your eyes to latch onto—to prove there’s vastness.

The first solid thought you’d had when the hull door opened was, it’s bright. Almost uncomfortably, so,

Eyes squinting instantly, forcing yourself to see through your lashes, forearm coming up to shield you further as the wind howled and flakes began their escape into the ship.

Eyes squinting instantly, yet you force yourself to see through your lashes, forearm coming up to shield you further as the wind howled. Its mournful wail echoes through the air and flakes dance in a frantic ballet, their delicate forms swirl like spirits wishing to escape into the ship.

Stepping outside, more snow finds refuge on your cheeks, forehead and nose, resting there momentarily, before vanishing as though they’d never existed. They leave behind only the sensation, a fleeting tickle, like the echo of a memory. Just like a kiss, its presence lingers, an imprint on the skin, brief yet unforgettable.

Just like him, you suppose. Just like all the kisses the two of you have shared.

The last one, in particular.

The softness of it. The way he so cautiously slanted his mouth over yours, cupped your head in his hand and spent seconds, minutes mapping out your lips before he even slid his tongue past your teeth.

You’d made notes of things too—the low grunt he tried to bury in his throat, the way his body slowly relaxed itself on top of yours. All welcome, a weight you’d forever wear.

Forever. An odd word. Seven letters, and yet it expands through space and time. It’s ever-lasting, yet could be gone in a moment.

Turning on the spot, your senses tune in to the sounds of it crunching under your boots. Bits of it find shelter within the worn seams, seeping into the crevices as if seeking solace in the fabric that has weathered so much, all over-worn and loved.

You’re glad, in a sense.

Even if your toes grow colder and liquid begins to slide under the arch of your foot—it just means you can feel more of it. Soak as much of it in, and let it solder itself to you, so a piece of it lives within when the three of you turn your back on this place.

You hear him follow, and all you think is that he's welded a part of himself in you too.

A fragment at first—and now you’re sure he’s carved himself something larger. It's less about ordering you to stay behind, grasping for you in dark spaces that turn into heady nights spent panting. Now, it’s more about crawling in beside you because you know to wait, trusting him to always return. It's more about the way you can map his face with your palms—bask in the sensation of his breath on your collarbone...

Cold stretches there now.

You’re sure if you slide open your layers, the skin would pebble before it would begin to ache—to become desperate for cover. You wonder if your bones would want to shake and shiver; whether your blood would slow, if your mind would become a little less heavy?

“This okay?”

He speaks—making the two words slice through the howl and the heavy breaths you’re consuming.

Asking it as though a smile hadn’t been stitched into your face since the moment he’d told you he had a surprise. A treat. As though he hadn’t watched a twinkle in your eye because you know he doesn’t make half-promises and he does not give without thought.

“More than okay,” you reply, voice gentle, it flowing from your lips as you let your gaze rest on him.

Let it sit there.

Allow your mind to begin to walk away with itself as you recall the way he jolted, the soft murmur he exclaimed when he danced between being awake and asleep.

You wonder if he regrets this. Whether the way you curled into him to soothe had been a step too far; whether your palm flat to his cheek, knuckles tracing the stubble that leaves welcomed burns along your thighs, had been too much for him.

He hadn’t said as much.

Not even once.

Sighing, letting it trickle past your mouth, you stare up—the sight of frost falling seemingly coming from nowhere and yet somewhere. Lost in it. Attempting to trace, to find the origination, only to find yourself struggling to see, to focus—too bright, you think again, chin dropping, eyes closing as you take another deep breath.

It’s why it slips out, is spoken before you realise it’s left your lips. It travels in wispy condensation, hand outstretched, palm upturned, as the words fill the silence: I’ve never felt falling snow.

You hear the sound of his boots crunching snow, the gap between the two of you closing as you flick your eyes to him—not halting him, but rather ensuring he knows you see him.

The dangerous side and the gentler side; the one who hunts and the one who caretakers. And all the rest in the middle.

You drop your gaze to him—the one more beloved than ship, principles or bounties. Snow resting atop his green head, ears twitching when certain flakes make contact.

Then, you stare at the helmet. Silently asking, all done in an exchange, a purposeful distraction—with a reply given in a tilt, a descent of his beskar-covered shoulders before the child was placed on the ground.

“I’ll be gentle.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about.”

You snort. "You trust me, Mando?"

He says nothing, which says a lot.

And you allow a deep inhale to follow—one that flows ice through your nose, forcing it to crash into the sides of your lungs as you almost gasp.

It’s a different kind of cold here.

A lot of things are different now.

You don’t concede to the ache in your bones or the weariness in your jaw from the relentless clenching of your teeth. You hide it beneath a veneer of stoicism and resolve.

Because if you do, the three of you will leave.

Stubbornness, some would say; utreekov he would say.

All under his breath, later translated when your mouth wraps around his cock—when you hollow cheeks and trace the tip of your tongue along the slit as salt kisses the roof of your mouth.

He decides for you when you blow into your gloves. A firm declaration, bold: Grogu needs to sleep.

It is less a question, and more of a statement; not quite an order, but he leaves little room to argue. The child picked up, scooped practically from the ground, leaving you to face the back of them both.

If you were closer, you’d likely see your dismay reflected in the beskar. The ball in your hand melting, before you let it fall in a half-formed lump to the ground. Letting it reunite with others similar to it before your soles flatten it, crush it back into nothingness.

You shiver, with no attempt to hide it this time, his eyes no longer a threat—no necessity to fight it or bury it. Letting it rumble through you as your teeth move on their own accord. Knowing, without touching, that your lips are likely colder than the melting snow that had been in your hand.

It might not have been the case if you hadn’t taken six snowballs to the face in the last so many moments.

The balls had been cupped and formed in your palms before you'd thrown them, only to have them flung back at you. A test, an experiment. A training session for Grogu and another thing ticked off from the list of things you’d ever done.

Yet, still, there are many things left.

A never-ending listicle—but, there alongside the ones for him are even more questions you're not sure you'll get an answer on.

They won't be shared. You won't whisper them to him when you’re both bare and catching your breaths. They'll rot inside of you, leave them tucked behind sinew and held back by stronger muscles than you have anywhere else.

You know the protocol when you are back in the warmth.

Silently disrobing, entering the refresher—followed by dressing and the rest of your usual routine as the other two sit up top, one resting and the other doing his utmost to avoid.

A thing that rarely bothers you, except now, your skull throbs—pounds. A sudden desire to call out his name, to ask him to come, for no reason other than to be held. The back of your hand finds nothing but chill, cold and sweat when it brushes your forehead, an unsteadiness to your walk as you manoeuvre—so reminiscent of the first few days on the ship—his name being swallowed.

Bed, you think.

Moving slowly, each step is akin to a baby's crawl until you finally grasp the comfort of it before sliding up further into it, encasing yourself, wrapping until you’re closer to a ball than a person.

You’re not sure how long you lie, how much time passes, but when he calls your name it sounds distant—far off.

And, so he calls it again, and again. A chant, a melody, it carries around the walls and greets your ear each time. There's just no energy to reply, nothing else inside of you than being curled and willing warmth to stretch out across skin, muscle and ossein.

Maker.

He breathes it. Allows it to flow out. But, it isn’t until his hand knocks away the sheet, fingers brushing over your calf do you hear him hiss.

“Kriff, you’re freezing.”

You murmur something, mind willing for an I know but not entirely sure what hits the air. Barely able to do more than remain still, to stop yourself from shivering.

Worth it, you add. Repeating it, the bridge to the song of your name he'd begun earlier, until you open your eyes and find yourself in the dark.

It's all-encompassing in its cloak of midnight, the darkness enveloping you like a heavy shroud, pressing against your skin with an oppressive weight, suffocating any glimmer of light and casting you into a realm of shadows and ambiguity.

Then you hear him undress.

Able to tell now, able to spot when each item is placed down—like a strip tease you’ve never been privileged to actually see, but the routine is all but memorised.

You want to reply, tell him you'll be fine as a tremble rips through you—finding it’s easier to keep your teeth together. Easier to tremble and shiver and shake.

That is, until you feel him shift, the presence of him looming before his body begins to smother yours.

It's all broad, heavy—heartbeat hammering against your skin as it ripples a kind of tune through your bones. But it's the warmth you grasp for; bring closer. Your fingers digging into skin and muscle, needing him flush to you more than you need to breathe.

It’s not romantic, but in a way it also is.

Even if shrouded in a blanket of faux night, there’s something intimate about the way he feels around you. It's far softer, slower movements.

His fingers find your cheek. Thumb brushing over your lips, likely cold, lips blue, as you bite back the instinct to let it slide into your mouth. Fight hollowing cheeks around the appendage, remind him how good your mouth can feel.

Instead, you focus on him. How this time, neither of you said this wasn’t it. This wasn't the place—isn't it. No entertainment that snowy-topped hills and rolling mounds of ice could be a place he could ever leave you.

You’re thankful, more than grateful.

Wishing to say as much as you shift your body under his, his thigh slotting more gracefully between yours, so much so, that makes you whimper. A sound that makes his head move, shift quickly.

A shyness falling over you, a veil of it, weightless but still there.

You're sure he's reading you, scanning you, deciphering everything the noise could mean even in the dark.

But, it's obvious that you want him. A thing you almost shrug out, but he shifts again, purposefully rocking his thigh, intentionally pulling another whimper that proves that you're throbbing. That you need him. More than a requirement, more than survival—

Warm me. Keep me warm.

Fingers sliding to his waist, resting, thumb stroking as you nuzzle your nose against his cheek. A sign without words, a signal that flashes in its own way.

Your wants rolling, clumping. Not too dissimilar to the snowballs you had made earlier—them all compacting, hardening.

Please, Mando.

Even if he thinks you just want him, you want more than the solid length of him inside of you or his palms on the back of your thighs.

It's a thing which circulates, and you ponder over it. Turn it over when you wake before him and let sit on the back of your tongue when he's showing you what buttons and switches mean on the ship.

Because you want to know his smile, the shade of his eyes—see the faces he pulls when he tilts his head and know the unfiltered sound of his laugh. You want him to never let you go. To never let you slip under, to hold you, to always be—

“Mesh'la…”

You hadn’t known you’d been speaking out loud. Letting confessions fall, like the earlier snowflakes. Except they hadn't landed softly, or gently. But rather laboriously, thickly—making the small space feel much narrower.

Realisation slams your heart into your chest, halting thoughts, and silencing your apparent babbling.

Head turning, silence doubling—air tightening—before you think and speak, “Should be saying that t-to you.”

He hums, it vibrating through him, fluttering over where your chest meets his. “I’m not... not mesh'la.”

“Don’t need to see you to know that you are, Din.”

You’re cautious with it, his name.

Barely used, barely warranted. A thing given to you one night when your face was buried into his neck—a silent promise made when he’d handed it to you. An offering.

You feel his head rise, each of his muscles taut, and you close the gap, moaning your gratitude into his mouth, all messy.

Rustling sheets sounded, suddenly aware of him. Feeling him. Pressed against you, heavy and leaking, as the rest of him remains tense. Caged in his bicep, mouth unwilling to release yours, to be anywhere but reading the rest of your wants straight from your tongue.

"Got you," he moans, signing it against you as he moves, positions himself before you can feel him nudging at your entrance, "I've got you."

And he does.

Slick with need for him, in a slow thrust, he sinks into you. Deeper and deeper. Clutching onto him, hanging more imperatively to him as he pauses, lets you adjust—mouth sliding over yours as he waits for the sign to move, to go, permission to further set you aflame.

You think each time you’ll be used to how he stretches you, how delicious it feels. How you’re so full, so content, and how he feels all warm and soft against you. But this time it’s different. Not just in the way he moves, but in the way he kisses you, in the way he murmurs soft phrases to your neck and collarbone.

Some you make out and make heat rush to your cheeks. Some you begin to try to translate before a drag of his cock sends the words spiralling into a mess of letters that fade as quickly as they were spoken.

Toes curling, fingers digging further into his waist and shoulder—leaving something on him, even if he’ll bury it in armour.

It's a thing you’ll know. He’ll know. A thing which makes him bite down on your shoulder and ask for more.

A demand which makes your back arch, makes you drop a curse as your vision blurs and your toes curl as his pace picks up.

Because you’re trembling for an entirely different reason now. So close to fracturing, to coming apart—letting have it all, the good, the bad and the parts which have rotted before he lay beside you. Seeing stars in a galaxy of nothing all because of him—I’m close, so close.

"Let me feel you."

All gruff, grunted into your neck as you tighten, clench, tangling fingers into his curls for leverage.

It should feel like falling, but it doesn’t. Never does.

It feels like an explosion. A pause—like you’re floating, not rising or descending. Just there. Flames roaring through you, burning away any leftover chill, as you flutter and howl out his name.

You writhe, whine. Moan. Paint the small space with nothing but pleasure and thankfulness and Din, oh, Din, as he tells you how good you are, how well you take him.

And, he’s not far behind. Can tell from the babbling and then the choked back where he emits as you croak back inside. Internally pleading, wishing, crossing fingers and toes that he does so, when you feel him spill into you when your name sounds both sweet and sinful as he groans it.

As he buries a word that sounds similar to mine into your neck, hips stuttering and stammering as you wrap a leg around him in response.

Yours.

There’s a moment.

The air tightens when breaths are caught and heads are clearer. The space the two of you are in is on edge. Subconsciously tensing. While you, after the softness of the moment, are unsure whether you’ll be rewarded with more or something akin to the opposite.

He answers by pulling you closer, no space between the two of you. Just sweat and skin and nil else, as his mouth and hot breath rest against your cheek, your own fingers finding purpose in his curls.

That’s when you hear it, a whisper, barely discernible from his heaving breaths: They’re brown. My eyes are brown.

Smiling, you swallow.

Nodding, something you hope he can feel.

Because a shade is something, far more than you had this morning—and it’s plenty enough, for now.