#mandalorian fic

[wwinterwitch]

new vows – din djarin x gn!reader

summary: the first time din ever removed his helmet in front of you

pairing: din djarin x gn!reader (no pronouns used)

word count: 2.5k

warnings and tags: fluff and angst + good ending, insecure!din, established relationship, kissing, the helmet's removed, doesn't follow the plot of the show at all (it's just din, reader and grogu being a happy family)

author's note: oof i hate how this turned out but my best friend read it and told me to post it so here we are, i hope it doesn't suck as much as i think it does

a reblog and/or comment on my posts really help me out as a content creator so thank you in advance if you take the time to do either!

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Din was observing you and Grogu from the entrance of the Razor Crest, arms crossed across his chest as he leaned against one of the walls of the ship. He smiles to himself when he hears the child giggling after you put a flower at the top of his little head, immediately reaching out with some difficulty to grab a flower from the ground and offering it to you.

"Thank you, Grogu. It's very pretty!" you say to the baby, who looked absolutely thrilled to realize you liked his gift. 

The kid stands from the ground, lifting both of his arms as a sign that he wants to be carried. Already familiar with the gesture, you quickly lift him up from the ground before laying on your back in the middle of the landscape filled with lilac and light pink flowers. The baby giggles again, holding onto you as you both lay there.

Din's smile fades just enough shortly after that when the inevitable thought pops in his head again. That annoying and sudden thought that always makes an appearance during the day. 

At first he didn't mind, finding ways to always push it away before it got to him. However, it's been more and more frequent these past couple of days and it's becoming a bad habit he seems unable to control at this point, and it's starting to really annoy him.

His mind is filled with all these doubts and insecurities. Not only because of the content of what he's thinking, but because it's completely impossible to push it away now. Almost like an avalanche, it falls down the mountain at a rapid, devastating speed and it only seems to get bigger as minutes pass. It destroys everything in its way. In this case, the prime and only victim is Din.

Perhaps the worst part is that it always ruins what should be pleasant moments. If Grogu is looking up at him from the ground begging to be carried, the thought is there. Whenever you wrap your arms around him or grab his hand when the two of you are exploring yet a new planet, it's there. Even when he's trying to sleep right next to you, hearing the faint sounds of the baby already asleep, you can bet that thought will be there to torture him.

Because all of those little moments he shares with his partner and son remind him of the fact that neither of them even know who he is. Sure, they know how he is, but not who.

Every touch is not really a touch, it's just skin brushing against a uniform. Every exchange has a helmet hiding his features. They can hear him laugh, but they don't see his eyes squinting just enough and the smile that adorns his face. They can hear him remind them of his never-ending love for them, but they don't get to look into his eyes as he says it.

And it hurts because his mind has tricked him to believe none of those moments are real. Because they've never seen the man that claims to care for them so much, none of it is genuine. It's just touching a uniform and hearing empty words coming from a helmet. It almost makes him feel like a droid rather than a human, leaving him longing for that real connection. 

He knows he probably shouldn't, but he craves that actual contact, which is something he never felt before you two showed up in his life. 

Being a Mandalorian and living by their code was easy. He never even considered breaking his vow because nothing and no one was ever worth it. What could possibly be more important than this? That's what he would always ask himself and he wasn't able to come up with an answer– until you and Grogu showed up.

Now that you two are here, it's obvious to him that his priorities have changed. He wants to commit to an entirely new code. To prove his undying fidelity to his family and make a vow to the two of you.

But that brings another set of insecurities that make this entire situation a lot more difficult for him. As much as he needs to truly feel connected to you, he's terrified of what that connection means. It's obvious that in order to obtain that, he needs to take off his uniform. Most precisely, his helmet– which is something he has never done in front of anyone. Ever.

So that's when his mind is yet again filled with negative thoughts. What if you don't like what's under the helmet? What if you already have a picture of him in your head and he disappoints you because he looks nothing like it? What if you suddenly don't love him anymore because he's not what you expected at all? And what if Grogu rejects him too? He couldn't deal with either of you not liking what has been hiding underneath all the Beskar.

That's the complicated mess that's been haunting him for a few weeks. That inner struggle he has tried to keep hidden from the two of you. Should the helmet stay on despite being an obstacle to reach the depths of connection he needs to have with his family, or should he remove it and risk rejection? Is it better to settle or search for more?

He feels pathetic. The supposedly fearless bounty hunter is terrified of even thinking about taking a risk. Going on adventures used to be a lifestyle. Now, the mere idea of it is enough to fill his mind with self-doubt, making it almost impossible for him to make a decision.

He thought about it later that day when the three of you were already inside the Razor Crest and getting ready to go to bed, really considering his options and trying to create different outcomes to this hypothetical conversation that kept playing inside his head.

You were telling Grogu a bedtime story when Din joined the two of you. He sat on the bed and listened to you speak as he watched the baby, who was struggling to keep his eyes open at that point, holding onto the little blanket covering his body. 

By the time the story was over, Grogu was already completely asleep. You carefully brushed his face with your pointer finger in an affectionate manner, smiling down at him before focusing on Din.

"Ready to go to bed?" you asked.

"You'll tell me a bedtime story too?"

The comment made you laugh. "I think you're a little old for bedtime stories."

"Ouch. I'm not old."

"I said a little old," you quickly correct, putting both of your hands on his shoulders. He quickly lifted a hand that was resting on your hip a few seconds later. "Not the same as just old."

You smile down at him as he gently caresses you from your hip all the way down your thigh before his gloved fingers trails back up. Your smile inevitably takes him to the dark corners of his mind again because he knows you won't be able to see him smiling back at you.

His next words came out very impulsively. "Can we talk?"

Evidently, you were a little concerned after hearing that given the tone he used. "Is there something wrong?"

"I've just been thinking a lot lately...there's something that's been bothering me and it won't leave my head."

"Okay..." you said, trying to be receptive to what he was saying but still having no idea of what's going on.

"Neither of you know what I look like," he decides to simply confess. Why would he try to over explain something that is actually quite easy to say? "And I've never...you know, actually touched you," he adds, his helmet titling towards his hand still resting on your hip, hinting at the glove covering it.

"I mean, yes...but that's because you're a Mandalorian. It's what your people do, right?"

Din nods after your words. "It's part of our code, but...I don't know. It's been bothering me because lately this entire uniform feels like an obstacle. I still feel like it's a part of me but...it also stands in between us."

"I've told you how I feel about the suit," you quickly say in a soft, reassuring voice. "I don't mind it one bit."

"I know, I know. This isn't because of something you did or said," Din explains. "I guess my priorities have changed."

"You mean...?"

"I mean, I care more about connecting with you than with my traditions. I've started to question things I never took a second to consider before you and Grogu showed up. I want to be able to touch you– really touch you. And I want to look at you and talk to you. Not through a visor and a modulator," he further explains, feeling like a weight is lifted off his shoulders. "I don't need to be a Mandalorian when I'm with you two. I just need to be Din."

"Oh, darling," you start affectionately, feeling so incredibly in love with the man sitting in front of you. "Whatever it is that you want and need, I'll support you no matter what. Helmet or no helmet, you're still the guy I fell in love with."

"Really?" he asks with evident worry.

"Of course," you immediately reassure him.

"I guess it took me too long to talk about this because...well, I didn't know if you'd like what's underneath the uniform."

"Din," you call in a very serious voice, hoping that'll hint just how much you mean your next words. "I love you so much. I love you because you're the kindest man I've ever met. You're loyal, passionate, brave...and you care so much about me and Grogu. I could stay here and mention a trillion things about you that make me fall in love with you every single day. You're the one I want to spend the rest of my life with and nothing in this world is ever going to change what I feel."

He was quiet for what felt like forever, simply staring up at you while you held the helmet in between your hands so you could stare directly at his visor where his eyes should be. 

"You can't see it but I'm smiling, by the way. This is a good silence," he offers, which immediately makes you laugh.

"Is it okay if I take it off and see that smile for myself?"

He hesitated before answering. "Are you sure you won't change your mind?"

"I promise I won't change my mind."

There was another pause before he finally answered. "Okay..."

You start to remove his helmet in a gentle, slow manner. If he wanted to stop you, he could at any second. You really didn't want to rush it because you still wanted to give him a chance to back down if he wanted to. 

The fact that he wears the helmet all day in front of you has never been an issue. You fell in love with the person he is, whatever he looks like couldn't possibly matter any less to you. That love is not going anywhere. Ever.

It looks like Din is confident in his decision because he doesn't stop you at any point. He continues to keep one of his hands attached to your hip and the other rests on his lap for a few seconds until he uses it to help you completely remove his helmet.

Still holding it with both of your hands, you look down to admire his face. You can tell by his expression that he's terrified as he stares back at you, impatient for any hint of rejection. He was still expecting to see the disappointment all across your features before you take a step back from him and reveal he's nothing like what you expected.

But that disappointment never appeared. Instead, he's relieved to see the smile forming on your face before you leave the helmet next to him on the bed, immediately reaching out to grab his face.

Din practically melts under your touch, closing his eyes and focusing on just how good it feels to have your skin touching him for the very first time. The way your soft fingers trace his cheeks before they move down to his jaw...it feels like absolute heaven.

And you take your time with that. Your digits explote his features as if contemplating them wasn't enough. You needed to touch every inch of his face in order to truly appreciate what's in front of you. 

The most beautiful sight ever. The man you love so much, looking even more handsome than you could've ever predicted. From his soft brown eyes to the hint of a beard, he's so perfect you can't believe you're seriously this lucky.

"So?" he dares to ask. Hearing his voice without the modulator for the very first time almost made you feel goosebumps all over your body. How is this man so pretty?

You could've just said that. You could've stood there and told him over and over how pretty he is, but it didn't feel like it was enough. No words would ever begin to explain the admiration you have for this man, even before you knew what he looked like.

After feeling his skin for the very first time, you could only crave more. It was probably that inefficiency of words and the need for more contact that made you lean down and kiss him for the very first time.

He kissed you back instantly, the grip on your hip tightening just enough as he completely gave in to you.

It was evident you were his first kiss, but that detail couldn't be any more insignificant right now. His lack of experience didn't bother you. All you could think about is how lucky and happy you are to have him as your partner.

The kiss lasted for a few more seconds before you pulled away, failing to hide your smile when you saw his face. It was evident he was already missing the way your lips feel against his. 

You stare at him again for a bit, caressing his flushed cheeks, before you finally decide to speak. "Does that answer your question?" Din was still too lost in his thoughts to reply out loud, so he simply nodded. His reaction after your first kiss made you giggle, and you swore right there that you've never felt happier in your life. "Good. I'd like to kiss you again if that's okay."

Another nod, this time looking more desperate, was all you needed to kiss him again. You got more comfortable as you sat on his lap, knowing you'll be there kissing him for a bit, feeling his arms wrap around your lower back to keep you close as soon as you sat down.

And as he holds you in his arms, he knows he made the right choice, silently vowing to be yours for as long as you allow him to.

[stardust-kenobi]

A Good Night's Rest

Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Summary: Din was your best friend, but you wanted him to be so much more. Turns out he feels the same way.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: SMUT, drinking, helmetless din, virgin!reader, SOFT MANDO <3

A/N: we will all collectively just pretend there’s a little guest room in the razorcrest, otherwise everyone’s fuckin on the cold floor ok and we cannot allow it.

“Dammit” You cursed at the dreaded transmitter that was probably older than you were.

Being a mechanic had its perks, but it truly had its challenges, too. Especially when you’d been assigned long-term work on a ship as old as the Razor Crest. Of course, a perk to that would be traveling with a Mandalorian. It was a rough couple of months getting him just to hold a conversation with you, but almost a year later, you'd never been more connected or closer to anyone else in your whole life. He was undoubtedly your best friend.

“Don’t worry about it. That thing has never worked right” Din said, startling you as he entered the cockpit. He was dismissive of the transmitter, which was all the more reason you wanted to fix it.

Sighing out in frustration, you accepted defeat. For now, anyways.

“I’ll get it figured out eventually” You assured him.

“If you say so" He chuckled softly.

"Are you doubting my capabilities?" You teased him.

"No, I am doubting the probability of that thing ever working again"

"That's fair" You smirked before looking back to your unfinished work.

"How are the engines looking? Are we good to go?" He asked.

"Yep. Everything else is looking good. Are we leaving tonight?"

"I'd like to get a good night's rest first. We can leave in the morning" He confirmed, leaning against the metal siding of the cockpit.

"Sounds good to me" You smiled back softly, subtly admiring his stance beside you.

"I'll probably go to bed soon" Din said, his sleeplessness showing itself in his voice.

A fun idea crept into your mind.

"Why waste such a perfect night to break this baby in?" You giggled as you pulled the bottle of liquor from the cabinet in the cockpit.

"How did you get that?" He said with a head tilt, questioning where and when you had the opportunity to acquire alcohol.

You raised your brows and shrugged your shoulders, "I stole it"

"Well, I assumed that" Din iterated, taking the bottle into his hand and observing the label, "but I am not surprised"

You watched as he looked around, as if trying to find some reason why he shouldn't indulge in some light drinking with his best friend tonight.

"I'll just be drinking all by myself, if you're not joining me" You raised your eyebrows at him.

"Fine” He gave in, sitting himself down in the pilot’s seat next to you in the copilot’s seat.

For a little while, you two indulged in the intoxicating effects of the liquor. You knew your limits and so did he. You stopped just before feeling your inhibitions slip away but felt fuzzy enough inside to enjoy the feeling.

Respectfully, you opted to look away whenever he took a sip, so as to not catch a glimpse of even his chin as he tipped the liquor into his mouth. His movements were slow as he set his glass down, and with your peripheral vision, you noted that he was done. With all the time you’d spent around him, you couldn’t actually imagine him actually having a face, he was just a helmet with a gentle voice. But you loved him.

Oh stars, you loved him…

The chances of him feeling the same were slim, but one more sip and you might just tell him.

As you stared at him, you were met with flashbacks of one particular night not too long ago. Din had accidentally walked in on you masturbating, and you didn’t notice he was there until a couple of seconds had passed. He couldn’t make himself look away from you in such a state, but the guilt of unintentionally invading your privacy ate at him every day since. Since that night, things had been a little bit awkward between you two

Not a single word was exchanged between you two, he just slowly walked out. You probably didn’t come out of your room for another day, and even now, you still hadn’t talked about it.

What he didn’t know it was him you were thinking about while you pleasured yourself.

“This stuff is…” You began, holding the bottle out and tilting your gaze at it.

“Strong?” Din finished your sentence.

“Very” you giggled in response.

Din stared at you for what felt like forever, the tension pulling tighter between your gazes. There was something so odd about the way his head pointed in your general direction just gave you butterflies. You wished so desperately to look into his eyes for real.

“I, um” He began, tripping on his own words before his thoughts were fully developed.

“What is it?” You tilted your head.

He paused, and looked at the ground, before turning back to you.

“I need to sleep” He sighed.

“Okay. It just seemed like you were going to say something?”

Please let him say that he loves you too.

“I don’t think I’ve drank enough to say it”

“Maybe I have” You pondered. It spilled off your tongue like honey, “I'm in love with you"

Okay where the fuck did that confidence come from?

He was still. More still than usual, if that were even possible. The thumping of your heart against the restraints of your chest rang terribly loud in your ears. If he’d said anything in the seconds that followed, you wouldn’t have even heard it. Any attempt to read his emotions was blocked by the shining reflection of his visor.

But he was silent, and you could only guess why…he didn’t feel the same way about you.

“I’m..” He tried to begin, but fell short of his words.

“Don’t” You began as mortification consumed you, “don’t say anything”

He remained stoic, and painfully quiet. Providing no goodbye or goodnight, you got up and made your way to your quarters on the Crest. Din didn’t stop you. He didn’t flinch, in fact, he barely breathed.

The frigid metal against your arms shot chills down your spine as you leaned against the door you had just closed behind you to your room.

The distant sounds of his footsteps carrying across the ship, led right to your door very shortly after you stormed off.

"Y/N" His soft, modulated voice rang the other side of the door, following a gentle knock.

What do you even say to him now that you've confessed something so bold to someone you're in such close proximity to all the time?

You slowly pulled the door open and were met with Din’s towering figure.

"I'm in love with you, too" He admitted quickly.

Now you found that it was you whose words were failing them. A choked breath hitched in your throat as you processed what he said.

"Y-you do?" You stuttered in disbelief.

"Yes. I did not know what to say before. I wasn't expecting you to say that" He said softly, his tone growing timid.

You stepped back and let him enter your crowded quarters, which truly was only enough space for your small bed and a cabinet. The forced proximity to him heightened the tension even further. You sat on the edge of your bed, and he mirrored you, finding only inches of space next to you.

"I want to kiss you" You blurted softly.

"I want to kiss you too, Y/N. I'm sorry I can't" He responded, cautiously placing his hand on your knee.

"I know what you can do" You suggested.

Your trembling fingers wrapped around the gloved material of his hand and guided it in between your legs. There was no resistance from either of you, but you sensed his nerves as well as your own.

The shifting of your hips told him you wanted him to move. He rubbed against your aching and sensitive bud through the rough of your pants. You wanted him bare against your skin, but you knew this needed to be slow.

Too shy to just let him watch the look of pleasure upon your face, you buried your head into his shoulder while he rubbed your clit. He groaned as you let a faint whimper escape you…a sound he’d only dreamed of hearing before.

"Are you sure?" He begged for reassurance.

"Are you?" You countered him.

“Yes” He assured with no hesitation, like he’d been waiting for you for years.

“I’ve never done this before” You muttered lowly, ashamed to admit it, but knowing it was necessary for him to be aware that you were a virgin.

“Ever?” He leaned back.

You shook your head in confirmation.

Din froze in his tracks, halting his rhythmic motions at your core. You worried he wouldn’t want to be your first. You worried it would be too much pressure for him to make it special for you.

He pulled away completely.

Something you’d never seen him do before caught your immediate attention. Slowly, his fingers curled underneath the bottom edge of his helmet and lifted it from his head. He didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Din what are y-”

You couldn’t even remember to breathe as his face came to view. His brown hair lay so perfectly pressed to his head, restricted for so long by the constraints of his mask. He wasn't a stranger. This wasn't unfamiliar. It was him.

And he was beautiful.

His creed meant nothing to him in that moment…the moment he finally was able to stare into your eyes for real. Nothing mattered to him except you. A lump grew quickly in your throat, and you welcomed it as a tear fell from your eye.

"You deserve for this to be special, Y/N. You deserve to look into the eyes of the man who loves you"

The rapid fire of your beating heart skipped over itself. His voice was smooth and raw...and scared. His entire life has been spent hiding away from everyone he has ever cared about behind that helmet. But now...he truly sees you.

"Din" You breathed.

The second that his lips brushed against yours, the world around you fell silent. Fingertips trailed along your jaw before moving to wrap themselves in your hair. Din was delicate and careful. He worried he'd break you if he didn't control his desire that had pent itself up for months of being near you.

You were tremendously overwhelmed with surprise and butterflies, which fueled your hunger for him as he found familiarity in your lips, and pressed harder into the kiss. His trembling hand returned in between your legs, applying pressure against your clit through your pants.

Din was no stranger to sex, but he was a stranger to your body, and a stranger to loving you in the way he was always aching to.

“I’m going to take care of you, Y/N” Din whispered against your lips.

He motioned for you to lie back, and guided you with his arm pressed gently into the curve of your back. You fiddled with the clasp of your pants, but his hand replaced your own and successfully unfastened it. You worked to remove them, but Din helped you peel them down your legs.

Nothing could have pulled your admirable gaze away from him. There were no words to describe how beautiful he was. Din hovered above you, staring right back in disbelief of having you beneath him like this. Your fingertips traced the line of his jaw, your palm finally resting against the scruff of his cheek. His eyes fell shut, being so touch-starved that he melted in your grasp.

Din knew that he wanted to stay like this forever, but he also knew how badly he needed to be inside you. As he stood to his feet and removed his armor, revealing the soft material beneath it that clung to his skin, your thighs clenched together in anticipation. With his continued help, he carefully lifted your shirt above your head, revealing you wore nothing beneath it. The guttural moan that grazed your ear when he saw your breasts sent a wave of heat between your legs.

His finger looped around the hem of your panties and awaited your confirmation before eagerly removing them.

You were nervous. Stars you were so nervous. Somehow you found comfort in studying his face, watching his reaction to seeing your exposed body on display for him.

Your lips intertwined again. The supple caress of his hand traveling up your thigh sent chills down your spine. It only took one light touch against your folds for him to feel how bad you wanted him. Suddenly you felt one finger slide inside of you.

He broke away from devouring your lips, “Is this okay?”

“Yes” You breathed.

What he did with his fingers felt beyond anything you’d ever done to yourself. He curled his finger as he pumped it in and out of you, savoring the sound of your slickness wrapped around his digits. You grinded against his hand, signaling him to move faster.

Din watched you, enamored with your expression and how you melted for him just by the touch of his hand. Stars began forming in your eyes as the haze of your orgasm crept up slowly. Din felt the walls of your cunt tightening slightly as he went faster.

“It feels so good, Din, please don’t stop”

And he didn’t stop. Stars, he’d do anything you asked of him. Especially now.

With the arching of your back, Din knew you’d reached your release. You cried out for him, digging your nails into the skin of his neck, shutting your eyes tight, overwhelmed with pure pleasure.

“Look at me, cyar’ika” He instructed. Your eyes flew up to stare deep into his beautiful brown eyes.

Your release overtook your entire body, sending a heated flash of vibration across your skin, tingling and centering at the thrusts of his fingers.

“There you go sweetheart, you’re doing so good” He praised.

You rode out your high as he talked you through it. Unable to fathom the total ecstasy you were feeling. Your breathing was heavy as you floated back down, and you then realized how tightly your hands were gripping his body. As you flashed him a smile, he softly smiled back, his eyes scanning your body and face.

As you reached for his pants, he hurriedly removed his shirt followed by his pants, now leaving him completely bare for you too. You stared at his cock, impressed by his size, and clenched your cunt around nothing as your body begged for him.

You spread your legs for him, as his hips situated themselves to fit perfectly between them.

“I’ll go as slow as you need me to” he assured you, “I don’t want to hurt you”. Just then, the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance, before he finally buried himself completely inside of you. A whimper of slight discomfort escaped you, and Din planted a soft kiss upon your open mouth to soothe you. You were so tightly wrapped around him that he almost lost it immediately. It was such a wonderful new feeling to experience being this close to Din.

Your body adjusted itself quicker than you anticipated to his size. He began to thrust slowly, still giving you time to relax. A lustful whimper fell from your lips, showing Din that you were experiencing pleasure rather than pain now. Once his thrusts found perfect and steady rhythm inside you, he began to moan softly with you. 

Your eyes meet and lock on each other while he continues to curl his hips passionately into yours.

“Does that feel good, Y/N?” He moaned and kissed your neck gently.

“Yes, Din” You managed to mumble through your new feeling of pleasure.

The sensation of him filling you was overwhelming, and your skin burned with such a wonderful fire. You were sure that you’d never get enough of his lips against yours.

“You are so beautiful, cyar’ika” He whispered, his hand traveling down between your breasts, familiarizing himself with the feeling of your skin against his. Taking one of your breasts into his hand, he squeezed it gently.

“Harder” You begged him. He looked at you with uncertainty, but wouldn’t dare deny you.

He began fucking you faster, now. As his cock brushed against your most sensitive spot inside you with every snap of his hips, your moans grew louder and more intense. Din loved every sound you made. He was quieter than you, but his whimpering was music to your ears.

“Y/N, I won’t last much longer” He faltered in his thrusts as he got close to his release.

You nodded and pulled his face into yours, kissing him hard. Your lips against his pushed him over the edge. His fist gripped the sheets as he came, his moans deeper and louder than before.

“Fuck, Y/N” He cried out.

The warmth of his release coated your walls, and you cherished the feeling of truly being filled by him. All of him.

The room was filled with only the sound of your beating hearts and the gradual rate of your breathing coming down to normal. Din was careful when he removed himself from you, and the second he did, you already missed feeling him so close. He lay next to you, your warm bodies still pressed close to each other. The silence between you spoke louder than any words you could manage to speak.

“Are you okay?” He asked while caressing your cheek.

You smiled warmly at him. There was a soreness you felt inside, but it was a sensation you welcomed if it meant that Din was the one to take your virginity.

“I’m more than okay” You assured him, “that was everything I ever hoped it would be”

“I love you, Y/N” He said sweetly, warming your soul as he said it.

“I love you, too”

———————

Taglist: @lokigirlszendaya

[izelascendant]

Helping Hand.

Din Djarin x f! Original character

words: 3,912

summary: Sharing a room comes with all sorts of problems. Problems that can be fixed by helping each other out. Lending a helping hand, if you will.

tags: Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Helmetless Din Djarin, Lights Off, Squirting, Multiple Orgasms, Come eating, Wet & Messy, First Time, Sexual Inexperience, Handjob, Vaginal Fingering, Simultaneous Orgasm, Smut, Porn with Plot (?)

author’s note: If you couldn’t tell already, I have a thing for Din Djarin in the dark. Also I’ve just been booming with ideas.

Din exited the shower, pausing briefly before heading back into the dimly lit room. Despite the darkness, he could make out her silhouette on the top bunk. With her back turned, he presumed she was asleep.

She wasn’t.

She had been awake for some time, grappling with a sense of guilt over the tension that had hung between them since the events of the previous night. Determined to address it, she finally broke the silence by speaking up. "I kept you up last night, didn't I?"

Her words shattered the silence, catching Din off guard as he believed she had been asleep. Stunned, he stood frozen by her bunk in the darkness. Uncertain about the source of the tension, he was determined to diffuse it. "Don't apologize," he whispered, aiming to offer reassurance and put an end to the lingering unease.

A few more seconds of silence lingered before she finally sat up "You heard," she said, her words carrying a sense of uncertainty, as if unsure whether it was a question or an affirmation.

"I did," he confessed at last, his tone betraying a curiosity about the direction the conversation might take. A palpable silence settled between them, punctuated only by the sound of their breathing. He almost sensed that his own heartbeat might be audible in the quietude.

Eventually, she broke the quiet with a quiet admission, "It helps me sleep." Her tone held a tinge of embarrassment.

Her confession seemed to intensify the heat coursing through his body. "It helps you sleep?" Uncertain of what else to say, he let the question linger in the dimness of the room.

She swallowed, her voice still hushed. "I wasn't trying to wake you," she explained. "Like I said, it helps me sleep. And since we share a room, I can't—" She trailed off, still feeling a little hesitant about the subject.

"You can't what?" he persisted, sensing an inexplicable need to hear her articulate the words distinctly. The conversation stirred within him a range of emotions he couldn't quite identify.

Did she really need to spell it out for him? She let out a small huff "You know what," her voice was low and slightly raspy, "touch myself, make myself—" She halted once again, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

A surge of heat coursed through him, and arousal pulsed once again. His heart skipped a beat when she stopped short of the final word. "You can say the whole thing," he whispered, his tone encouraging. "You don't have to be shy about it." The intimacy of the moment hung in the air, the unspoken tension reaching a new height as he urged her to express herself fully.

Her cheeks burned, a vivid display of the lingering embarrassment mixed with adrenaline. “Making myself come. Having an orgasm helps me sleep.” She mumbled.

"Is that—is that what last night was?" he whispered.

A soft "yes" escaped her lips, the admission hanging in the air like a delicate thread. While she felt a desire to be mature about discussing the subject, the underlying tension stemmed from the fact that—she secretly thought of him while pleasuring herself.

The overwhelming situation left him speechless, his mind filled with questions and imagery. He pictured her pleasuring herself, feeling the overwhelming desire and arousal that filled him. The feeling was new and intense, like nothing he had felt before.

“Was it only once? Or did you—?” He could barely speak, the tension growing thicker.

Din's words made her face warm up again. “For Maker’s sake, Din,” She was a human, a flesh and blood person with desires that were natural. “I have needs just like you and everyone else. Yes, I–I masturbate. I enjoy pleasuring myself, is that so hard to believe?” She mumbled back, unsure of what his intentions were, or where the conversation was headed.

“It’s not hard to believe. I do too,” he finally managed to say as he continued to feel his heartbeat increase.

“So what’s the deal?” Her voice rasped a little. “I’ll be more quiet next time.” She sat back, her voice lowering even further. “Or if you want, I’ll do it outside of the ship.” There was a hint of humor in her statement, despite her sheepishness.

“No, no,” he was quick to respond. “You can—you can be as loud as you want.” She could say or do whatever she wanted. He was hoping that she knew why.

His words caught her off guard, confusing her once again. She mumbled a simple 'What?' to his statement, unable to process the interaction herself.

“It's okay.” he started off, but then his words failed him once again, as his tongue twisted and stumbled over them. “What I'm trying to say is that you can—you can do what you want," he said quietly.

Then he tried his best to finish the thought, “I don't want you to tone it down.”

“You like it?” She questioned in a whisper. She was being enveloped by the arousal she knew so well, almost as if it had been there the entire time, waiting for her to let it take her.

“Yes,” he whispered, not trying to hide his feelings one bit. He was not sure what to say or how to respond after that. He was still getting the same feeling from last night that she had left him with—an overwhelming sense of heat and a rush that he didn’t know how to deal with.

“Din?” Her voice, slightly raspy and hushed, pierced the air once more. The unspoken tension lingered, and it was evident that there was something on her mind, something she wanted to say or ask, but the words eluded her.

“Yes?” he whispered, still mesmerized by the sound of her voice after she had spoken.

“I want to hear you,” she paused, thinking about just how bold her request was, “just like in the shower.” The room held a suspended silence as she paused, contemplating the boldness of her thoughts and the request that hung on the tip of her tongue.

“And you listen to me too—both of us, touching ourselves.” She whispered.

Her admission hung in the air, and a heavy silence settled between them. “You mean, you want to hear me while—” he could not come up with the right words. The idea of him touching himself for her to hear was making her go crazy. He found it so arousing to think of.

“Please,” She whispered, the room held a heightened sense of awareness as she shuffled in her cot, the audible sound of her removing her shorts adding a layer of intimacy to the charged atmosphere.

“Get into your bunk.” She said softly.

Her words seemed to act as a signal, and he didn't ask any questions. Climbing onto his bunk, the darkness shrouded him, leaving him unable to see anything. Yet, he made his body as comfortable as possible, anticipation hanging in the air. The feeling of suspense was almost overwhelming, but there was a strange allure to it, a shared moment in the dimly lit room that held a promise of something unspoken and intimate.

“You can hear me, right?” she inquired from the top bunk, her breath slightly labored. She ensured that he could detect the sounds of her movements in her cot.

“Yeah—Yeah, I can hear you just fine,” he mumbled. The moment she started to move around in her bed, he was already starting to get excited.

She swallowed and shimmied out of her skivvies, allowing herself to lay completely bare in the darkness. Her breathing started off heavy as she slowly touched herself, the quiet atmosphere allowing every single lewd sound coming from her to be audible.

“Are you,” she swallowed, “doing it too?”

Her words, her gestures, and the sounds of her self-indulgence were driving him to the brink, leaving him utterly exposed in the darkness. His breaths grew heavier, and he felt a pulsating intensity building within him.

“Y-Yeah,” he replied after a few seconds of waiting.

Almost instantly, she emitted a contented hum upon hearing his words. Her labored breaths transformed into soft moans and whimpers. "Keep going, I want to hear," she murmured, giving in to the sensations without restraint. Her mind was hazy, and her entire body felt warm and moist.

Now unable to contain himself, he couldn't remain silent any longer. The symphony of her moans and whimpers created an illusion that she was right there in his bunk, beside him. His breathing escalated, becoming rapid and audible, spiraling out of his control. Small, desperate moans escaped him as the intense sensation surged within. The realization that she was engaging in this act solely for him sent waves of unbridled arousal through his body.

She had never encountered anything quite like this before. While she had engaged in self-pleasure, it paled in comparison to the current experience. It felt as though they were each treated to their own exclusive performance, as if the sounds they made were tailored solely for mutual pleasure.

“I’m close.” She cautioned, uncertain whether the words were spoken aloud or merely a product of her internal thoughts.

His sounds grew more aggressive, and his breaths became increasingly heavy and abbreviated. “So am I,” he breathed out.

His deep groans were akin to heavenly music for her. They were sufficient to induce her eyes rolling back and her back arching as she fervently manipulated her fingers. A choked moan escaped her, sensing her body growing hotter and weightier. "Din," she moaned, injecting a personal touch into the moment, even though they couldn't see or physically feel each other. It all revolved around the sensations and sounds they shared.

The realization that she was seeking him out, and not just anyone else, stirred emotions within him that he never thought possible. Her voice, above all, was the ultimate turn-on, resonating as absolutely perfect to him. The sounds emanating from the darkness carried an intimacy and heat that heightened the experience even further. “I’ the same,” he replied. “I’m just about—there.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, the hand not otherwise occupied tightly gripping the sheets. She didn't dare alter her pace; she was on the brink—just needing that extra push to propel her across the finish line. "Please," she panted, "say my name," she begged. The room resonated with the explicit sounds of both of them edging closer to their climax.

Her words unleashed a powerful sensation within him, surpassing anything he had ever felt before. Despite the desire to prolong the experience, he wasn't sure if he could hold out much longer. Her words were driving him to the brink of madness. Unable to resist any longer, he blurted out her name. The proximity to climax was so intense that he couldn't resist the overwhelming sensation. "Say my name."

She let out an almost squeal, her limbs squirming within the sheets. "Din—" she choked out, "I'm com—" Those were her final words before her breathing became even more erratic, and she felt as though she might have seen stars.

A wave of heat and pleasure engulfed him, and he released one final moan before finally finding his peace. His entire body twitched, and his breath grew heavier. He lay still in the darkness for a moment, absorbing the magnitude of what had just transpired. It was utterly mind-blowing.

Afterwards, the only sound that filled the room was their combined breathing, still heavy but gradually slowing down. Her mind remained foggy, her body warm and slightly sweaty. A moment of silence passed between them before she decided to break it. "I squirted," she remarked with a slight chuckle at the vulgarity of her own words.

Her words and her chuckle broke him from his state of thought and he felt a wave of heat wash over his body once more. “I came too,” he said back, breathing heavily.

She was still feeling bold. The thought of what they had just done dawned on her, and she started to realize what had just happened, but she didn’t want to lose the feeling of lust just yet. “In your hand?” She asked.

He let out a smirk and a short, quiet chuckle as she asked this question. “It had to go somewhere,” he said quietly.

She giggled faintly. Her breathing was still audible. After a pause she spoke again. “Show me.” She murmured. “Bring your hand here.” Her voice was full of excitement and boldness.

He emerged from the lower bunk, cautiously extending his hand, which bore the remnants of his release, towards the edge of the blanket to show her. His curiosity lingered, eager to receive her reaction.

She touched it, feeling the consistency. “It’s still warm.” She noted. Her voice was still dripping with lust.In the dimness, their vision obscured, she took hold of his hand and gently guided it closer to her mouth. Her heart pounded, and after a momentary hesitation, she acted impulsively—without thinking, she ran her tongue along his hand.

Her description of it being warm ignited a frenzy within him. The realization that she was right there, experiencing the same sensations, made it all the more intense. It became the most arousing sensation he had ever felt, prompting a quiet groan to escape from him.

"Salty," she added quietly, allowing his finger to gently graze her bottom lip. The entire experience was incredibly erotic, heightened by the pleasure of hearing his breathing. Sensing his enjoyment, she murmured, "I made a mess of myself."

His heartbeat pounded so intensely it felt like it might burst out of his chest, and the sensation of impending release gripped him once more. He shifted his hand to where she had touched herself, then slowly brought it to his mouth. It took a moment for him to summon the courage to follow through.

She released a long breath as his fingers met with her core, which remained warm and wet. His unexpected move caught her off guard, but she welcomed it without any complaints. Her cheeks burned with desire, and she let out a shaky breath, an intense yearning for him welling up within her.

"How do I taste?" she whispered raspingly, her words soft yet filled with desire.

He savored the taste and sensation, taking his time before slowly swallowing, he whispered, "Divine," in response.

His words had a profound effect on her, melting away any remaining barriers. "Din," she murmured yearningly, her mind still clouded with lust.

The thought that they were lying right next to each other, sharing the same sensations, sent waves of satisfaction through his body. "Just like you," he replied quietly, acknowledging the intimate connection they shared in that moment.

“Kriff,” She murmured slowly. She was surprised at just how much his words were able to fuel her own arousal—and she had a feeling he knew what his words did to her. She sat up, sensing his heavy breath close to her.

“My sheets are wet.” She stated, following up with a brief pause. “Can I come down to your bunk?”

Without a moment's hesitation, he was ready for her to join him. "Yeah," he whispered back, "come here."

He heard her descend from the top bunk, bringing her blanket with her. She placed it down in the space he had made for her in his bunk and lay down, positioning it just below her hips. The blanket, already damp with her previous release, served as a makeshift towel for the time being. As she breathed out, she felt the warmth emanating from his body, not too far from hers. There was an irresistible allure to it.

“I’ve never been so worked up.” She murmured, almost in admiration. She drifted her legs apart, her feet shuffling through his sheets. “I’m still soaking.” She said in a slow and tantalizing breath.

They were in such close proximity that the air between them felt suffocating. His hands slowly traveled up to her thighs, feeling the dampness on them. Uncertain about what would come next, he surrendered to the instinctual impulses of his body.

She emitted a faint whine, her breath shaking with anticipation as she felt his hand drawing near. Sensing her heightened pulse between her legs, she gently guided his hand, pressing it down a bit to let him truly feel her warmth and wetness. The palm of his hand rested on the patch of hair at her pelvic area, while his fingers explored between her folds. She swallowed, allowing her mouth to hang open in the midst of the intensifying sensations.

Her warmth enveloped his hand, and his mouth hung open as he absorbed the overwhelming sensations. "Gods," he breathed out slowly, continuing, "You're so warm."

Her whimpers and moans alone were enough to captivate him, and the sensation of her warmth was all he needed. Placing his hand on her hip, he moved his fingers delicately between her folds, feeling the warmth intensify. He let out small chuckles. "I almost feel like my hand is melting," he remarked between heavy breaths.

She emitted a gentle chuckle of her own. Then, she brought her hand closer to his hip, letting it graze along his warm skin. "Can I touch your hard-on?" she whispered, full of eagerness and curiosity. His hand was right where she needed it, and she desired to place her hand right where he needed hers.

“Yes, please,” he murmured back to her.

She went for it, slowly exploring him. Taken aback by the sheer length and thickness, it was an entirely foreign experience for her—foreign yet undeniably exciting. She swallowed, feeling around aimlessly.

"I've never," she began, uncertain of how to articulate what she wanted to say, "I don't know how to—"

Her sudden halt caught him off-guard for a moment but he quickly realized that she was in need of guidance. He took his hand and laid it on hers to guide her in the correct way.

She found it even more arousing when he placed his hand over hers to guide it. A soft moan escaped her, and her breathing became heavy and shaky once more. Deciding to reciprocate, she placed her hand onto his where his fingers were exploring. "Right there," she whispered, "that's where it feels the best," indicating as she guided his fingers to her most sensitive part.

"Ok," he whispered, allowing his fingers to follow her guidance. He kept his hand still on top of hers, refraining from moving his fingers for a moment, allowing her to take control. Eventually, he started moving his fingers in gentle circles, synchronizing with her needs.

A louder moan escaped her, a clear sign that he was hitting the right notes. Her breathing transitioned into whimpers, and her eyes fluttered for a moment. Despite her own pleasure, she remained focused, wanting to reciprocate and please him just as much. In response, she sped up the pace of her hand wrapped around his length.

“Does that feel good?” She breathed out.

He released a groan of his own in response to her touch, finding it absolutely amazing and feeling on the brink of breaking from the intensity of the sensations. Yet, the sounds of her whimpers and moans spurred him to continue. "It feels so good," he muttered, punctuating each word with small moans. "Keep going—"

She swallowed, panting hard, feeling a slight boost in confidence as she could tell she was pleasing him and heading in the right direction. "Your fingers," her words tumbled out amidst moans and heavy breathing, "inside me," she mumbled.

The thought of his fingers being inside her sent a wave of heat throughout his body. "Maker," he murmured softly, his breathing becoming heavier with each word.

She guided his fingers, breathing heavily. Once they were in just the right way, she felt her body sink into the mattress, the heat intensifying, and she couldn't help but moan. "Oh gods," she tried to control her breathing, "stars,”

"Curl your fingers," she gave one last indication.

"I've got you," he assured, letting his fingers curl up inside of her, following the direction she was leading. The more he made her feel good, the closer he felt himself getting to the edge.

His actions elicited a cry of pleasure from her, and her grip around him tightened as she stroked more vigorously. "I-I'm not gonna last," she struggled to speak, her head tossing and turning against the pillow behind her. The overwhelming stimulation brought her to the brink of ecstasy.

“Neither am I,” he responded hoarsely, his breath becoming even shorter and he began to feel his legs quiver slightly. “I—So good,” he groaned, his fingers still curled, as she had indicated. “I’m so close.”

She practically screamed, gripping the sheets as tightly as she could, her legs spasming and her back arching in the throes of ecstasy. Barely giving herself time to recover, she shifted her focus to him as he approached his own climax.

"Gods," he moaned, taking control of her hand, guiding her fingers further and further as he approached his climax.

"Yes," she panted, delighting in the sensation of his release. They both lay back, their breathing patterns erratic, bodies sweaty and overheated. As enjoyable as it was, it left them both utterly spent.

"Stars," she whispered. "I don't even know where to start." She lingered, her gaze lost in the dark. Her breathing started to calm down, and she felt her whole face was hot and flushed.

"Neither do I," he whispered back. A quiet stillness settled in the small space they shared. Although the air wasn't as hot as before, it still carried a warmth. He let his gaze linger on hers for a moment before allowing it to wander off to the ceiling, absorbing the sight of her next to him and the profound connection they had just experienced.

The air hung heavy with a certain scent—a mixture of pheromones and sweat, not unpleasant but a testament to the intensity of their exchange. She took a deep breath and sat up in his cot, her eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room, trying to discern his location.

"Wipe yourself off with my blanket. It's soaked anyway," she said with a hint of amusement. She stood up from the bunk. "I'm gonna pee. I'll be right back," she warned calmly before slipping into the fresher.

He remained where he was, taking a moment to adjust his clothes and clean up the aftermath between his legs. In a state of slight embarrassment but overwhelming satisfaction, he examined the soaked blanket—undeniable proof of the intensity of their encounter. The experience had brought him a level of satisfaction during orgasm that he had never felt before, leaving him in a state of self-reflection and contemplation.

She, too, found herself uncertain about the situation, aside from the fact that she had enjoyed it. Upon her return from the fresher, she climbed back into the top bunk. Her breathing still somewhat heavy, she felt a sense of peace mixed with exhaustion settling in.

She leaned her head down from the top bunk. "I enjoyed every moment," she said in a straightforward manner, as if feeling the need to set the record straight.

"I did too," he breathed back from below. It was a simpler response, yet an important one for him. Lying still in the bed, he felt more relaxed than ever.

Despite the night's craziness, it felt fulfilling.

[din-miller]

Yaihadla

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word count: 800+

Summary: Pregnancy is a wonderful, beautiful thing. Breast tenderness, not so much. It's a good thing you have a caring husband to take care of you

Warnings: fluff, pregnant reader, female reader, married couple, implications to sexy times, nonsexual nudity, title means pregnant in mando'a

You thought the worst part of being pregnant was the insecurity that came with the weight gain of growing another life inside you. It's not. Though you'd rather take that over this any day of the week. Din can chase away any insecurities you have but he can't chase away the tenderness of your breasts.

Though Din is nothing but persistent and would gladly try to kiss away the pain.

Normally you'd indulge him in his 'you can make anything better with a few kisses' method of fixing every problem, but right now the brushing of your nightshirt against your hardened nipples is making you want to scream bloody murder. You shift in the co-pilot's seat, leaning forward a tad so your shirt falls from your skin without causing a scene.

"Is something wrong?"

You glance up at your husband, meeting the back of his helmet. You blush at being caught. While you might be a good bounty hunter you can never sneak things past Din. You straighten up, toying with the hem of your shirt as you ask, "Would you mind if I take my shirt off?"

Your husband's grip on the Razor Crest's throttle slips at your words, making the ship jerk to the side. His head snaps your way and he chokes out; "I'm sorry?"

"My breasts are sore," You explain and slowly lift up the bottom of your shirt, giving him a clear view of your panties and a sliver of your rounded stomach. When all he does is stare in your direction, you repeat yourself, "Would you mind if I take my shirt off?"

"Would I mind…" Din trails off in disbelief, words stumbling over each other as he continues, "No, I-I have no, um, no complaints here. Whatever makes you feel comfortable, mesh'la."

You can't see his expression but you know his eyes are blown wide – half from shock, half from rapidly growing lust – and his mouth parted, tongue unconsciously wetting his lips.

"I think I'll forgo wearing a shirt to bed tonight too. The material is irritating my breasts." You sigh, shifting in discomfort again. You know your husband wouldn't mind in the slightest if you fully strip naked and strut around the ship.

If you weren't so sore you might have actually done so. Unfortunately all you can manage is the lamest strip tease in history as you awkwardly tug your shirt over your head, wincing when the fabric brushes over your nipples.

Din's chair is spinning towards you before you can even blink, his arms resting on his knees as he leans forward. You let a cocky grin slip across your features, throwing your shirt at his gawking helmet. He catches it and tosses it aside without any remorse. His helmet follows, then his shirt is next to add to the growing pile.

"Ner cyar’ika, your beauty is beyond words," He pushes himself from his chair, kneeling between your parted legs. One hand freely dances along the stretched skin of your belly, and the other paws at the side of your thigh, "The shape of you with my ad’ika brings me to my knees time and time again."

You have to clench your jaw because now is not the time for hormones to trigger tears. If you start crying now, having said to Din that you're sore, he'll start fretting over you.

His eyes drift from your face to lazily trace the curves of your swollen breasts. Transparent lust swallows his pupils and threatens to ignite a fire inside you.

You know this isn't going to go anywhere tonight. Even if your hormones change and you want to jump his bones until you're boneless and satisfied; you've already expressed your discomfort and Din's too much of a good man to give in to his own burning desires knowing it would end up with you in more pain.

Din's hand comes to lightly trail a path following his greedy eyes, avoiding touching your sensitive nipples as they drag across the skin of your breasts, "They've gotten bigger, ner kar'ta."

You glance down at them too, "Have they?"

He hums and gently cups both of them, "Mmm, heavier too. When you're not feeling sore I'm going to kiss the pain away. For now how about we turn in for the night? I'll even sleep up here if it's more comfortable for you."

"You know the baby doesn't like when you're not in bed with us," You gesture for him to help you up, "We don't sleep well unless you're holding us. Protecting us."

Din pulls you up and spins you around so your back is pressed against his chest. His left hand finds yours and brings them both to lay over your bump. His other hand trails up your thigh until it finds his favourite prize. He gives the elastic band of your panties a snap, mouth hot against the skin of your neck as he smirks, "These coming off too?"

[sushiwriterhere]

breathe you in

summary: "The only one of your senses that seems to be clear, that seems to be working, is touch. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, amplifying every brush of his fingertips to a thousand."  rating: explicit (18+ mdni) pairing: the mandalorian x f!reader word count: ~4.7k (oops) warnings: sex pollen (dub-con), mando is not affected but reader is, dom(ish)!mando, fingering, spanking, nipple play, no use of y/n. please heed the warnings. notes: this is dedicated to the lovely, the talented, the amazing @tremendum ily!! tysm for encouraging my mando addiction + hope you enjoy :,) this is my first time writing mando so pls pls tell me what you think! my other works are here tagging: @joelscruff @joels6string @pedgeitopascalreads @magpie-to-the-morning @softlyspector @dindjarindiaries @tulipsbymybed @ezrasbirdie @anchoeritic tagging ppl whose Pedro work I love!!! Lmk if you’d like to be added/removed :)

You know you should say something to Mando when you start feeling the tips of your fingers tingle and the edges of your vision go shock white. It must’ve been a plant that grazed you or one of the patches of sunlight you stepped through, swimming with dust and pollen.

Leave it to you to get high on accident with Mando protected by his helmet, stalking through the undergrowth just a few feet in front of you. You can’t help but notice how broad he is, just how deftly he moves through the forest and clears a path for you and the Child to make it back to the Crest. God, the Child. Is he okay?

You whip your head down to look at him, somehow feeling guilty at the thought that he too, might have inhaled something or gotten injured. It’s your unofficial job, making sure that he’s safe (that and making sure the Crest doesn’t fall apart). But he’s tucked away inside the floating cradle, its little doors shut with him likely sleeping away soundly on the inside.

So it’s just you.

Your head swims slightly, but you keep your eyes fixed on the Mandalorian in front of you, hoping whatever it is that’s happening to you will at least hold off until you get back to the ship.

The pathway back for you is cleared by Mando stalking through the undergrowth, disregarding just how loud the fallen branches snap under his weight. You shuffle along and try to maintain composure as you feel your body temperature spike, and sweat start to bead along your hairline.

A relatively peaceful walk through a cool forest like this one shouldn’t be making your breath come as quick as it does. It shouldn’t be making you tremble like a leaf in the wind, your stomach cramp.

Time slips away from you when you get back to the ship. You think you might’ve muttered something about needing to use the ‘fresher but you’re not sure. All you can feel is the cramping in your lower abdomen, the way the hair on the back of your neck is plastered to you with sweat, and the way your mouth is somehow simultaneously flooded with spit and dryer than the desert, all at the same time.

When you stumble into the ‘fresher, the stale air feels like a momentary reprieve from how warm you are. You can feel your pulse hammering in your throat, and you’re sure you look like a crazed animal. What sets you off balance most, however, is the intense and burning need you feel, centered between your legs and spreading to the very tips of your fingers.

You barely get the door closed before you’re shoving your pants and underwear halfway down your thighs and slamming one palm into the wall so you can bite into your bicep to try and stifle your moans.

But it doesn’t alleviate what you’re feeling. In fact, it just makes your mind fixate on the Mandalorian even more. His broad shoulders, the thickness of his fingers always covered by those gloves, his strong thighs and waist that you know would be behind all the power of him thrusting into you.

You let yourself indulge in that fantasy, easily slipping your fingers into yourself. Your wrist tweaks at the angle, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

That’s how he finds you, three fingers buried in your weeping cunt, standard issue pants just barely shoved down the middle of your thighs, palm braced against the wall. You hadn’t even turned the shower on.

He calls your name from outside the door, “Are you alright?”

You fight the keen high in your throat at the sound of his voice, the cramping worsening as if in response to the thought of him. Fighting the shake in your voice you try to respond, but instead let out a small wail.

“I’m coming in.” Mando’s voice is authoritative, clear in his intentions. He thinks you’re hurt.

“Mando, wait— ” But before you can finish your sentence, the door is opening.

You know how you look, sweat along your forehead and plastering your hair to your neck, arousal dripping down your wrist steadily, body trembling. Mando doesn’t move from where his body is halfway through the doorway slightly tilted forward, hand clutching the frame, gloves stretching against the tension of his grasp.

Before he can say anything, an explanation starts tumbling out of your mouth—as if you were the one to catch him three fingers deep in himself. “I think I inhaled something while we were out and I know you’re always telling me to be more careful, and I checked that the kid wasn’t harmed he’s okay, but Mando I don’t know what’s wrong with me—!”

You cut yourself off with a gasp and you can feel the tears streaming freely down your face, but the next words you don’t mean to say, “Mando, please help, please. I need—I want you.”

This isn’t how you wanted this to come to light. You wanted it to be something natural, the sort of thing you heard in stories of love truer than the galaxy itself. Sometimes, you thought it might be happening in the way he’d relaxed around you, indulged your pleas to leave the Crest and shop at a street market. Maybe it was your imagination, but you thought he might be staring at you as you dozed off in the co-pilot's chair, feeling his gaze as it watched you through your reflection on the windshield.

At your begging, he moves. Instead of pouncing on you or slamming the door shut, he quietly walks over to you, pulls your hand away from your pussy that hasn’t stopped absolutely drenching your thighs, and scoops you into his arms. You scramble to clutch at his chest, beskar making for a lousy grip against your soaked hand. You’re confused and overwhelmed but the pain subsides, ever so slightly.

Closing your eyes tightly to preemptively fight vertigo, you feel him moving through the body of the Crest til you reach his quarters. He rarely ever sleeps there, that you know. But now, he moves to open the door, the slight hiss as it opens and shuts signaling that you’re inside.

Inside the room is pitch black and the air is stale, but ice cold. Like when you entered the ‘fresher, it brings momentary relief against what feels like a thousand degree fever burning you up.

You can’t understand if he’s rejecting you, if he’s moving you here so he doesn’t have to witness this. You start to spiral slightly and try to cling to him as if that might change what’s about to happen.

As he lays you on the bed, you whimper and grasp at his shoulders, until his voice is the one that breaks the moment, “I’ll take care of you, mesh’la, I’m not going anywhere.”

You almost weep with relief as he begins undressing you, pulling your pants and underwear, both embarrassingly soaked, off you. He doesn’t take off your tunic, apparently going for efficiency. You keep your hands tangled in the sheets, afraid that if you touch him he might change his mind.

What you don’t realize in your haze as he spreads your legs and removes his gloves, is that he can see everything through his helmet. He can see the way that your tunic sticks to every curve of your breasts, your nipples hard and your chest heaving with arousal. He can see the way that your cunt glistens with slick, your clit swollen, your hole pulsing and clenching around nothing in desperate need.

Whatever you inhaled is clouding all of your senses. You can’t seem to get enough air into your lungs so your mouth hangs open, panting. All you can smell is Mando–that combination of polishing oil he applies to his armor, sweat, and something distinctly him that he always carries. There’s a buzzing in your ears that only breaks when he speaks or exhales loud enough for the modulator to catch it. You can’t see for shit, the room completely dark and beyond that, your eyes are shut tightly trying to regain some semblance of composure.

You jolt at the first graze of his fingers against your thighs, barely registering the fact that his bare skin is touching yours. His hands are strong and calloused, gripping you tightly and forcing your knees apart. Your hips buck weakly and a whimper escapes your lips.

The only one of your senses that seems to be clear, that seems to be working, is touch. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, amplifying every brush of his fingertips to a thousand. He moved his hands over your hips, your stomach, and back down to your pussy.

When he finally lets his fingers dip into your cunt, you try and jam your legs shut from how overwhelming it is. He shushes you gently and makes sure to prop you open with his knees and a firm hand on one of your thighs.

His pointer finger pushes through your curls, ghosts over your lips, barely dipping into you. He circles your clit, avoiding the bundle of nerves, seemingly focused on spreading your wetness over your cunt. As if that was necessary—you feel like you’ve been aroused for hours, potentially wet from your pussy down to your knees.

Your first orgasm is a weak, pathetic thing. You almost miss it when the tip of Mando’s finger just barely enters you, far thicker than one of your own. It hardly does anything to break the fog in your mind. In fact, it only serves to make your more aroused as you clench desperately down on his fingertip and thrash feebly in his hold.

A sharp exhale echoes loudly around the room, crackling and odd through his helmet. He lets his fingers pet your weeping cunt and in the dark he lifts and spreads his fingers to watch your cum hang sticky in between them.

“Mando,” Your chest is heaving from the effort of trying to gasp out a coherent thought, “Please, I need more.”

He shushes you again, and tells you sternly, “Be patient, sweet thing.”

But you can’t be patient. Your first orgasm has only intensified the cramping in your abdomen that’s begging to be soothed by his cock filling you.

When he finally pushes a finger into you, you wail and moan. He’s still holding you down so you can’t escape the way he crooks his finger inside of you, petting at your walls in a way that makes your mind spin more than it already is. Another finger and you can’t seem to figure out why you’re fighting him, your hands finally moving to grasp helplessly at his beskar-clad thighs as he twists his wrist and makes a come-hither motion with the fingers he has buried in you.

He works his fingers in and out of you at a relentless pace. At one point he seems to tire of the way you won’t stop thrashing in his hold despite him propping you open, and so he grabs both your wrists in his free hand, pinning them above your head and your body down with the line of his.

“Hold still,” He commands softly.

Maybe if you were more lucid you would have noticed the shift in his demeanor as he lets himself settle into taking your pleasure for his. It’s no less doting, no less sweet, but it has a biting edge not unlike the way a burst of sour fruit brings both the bite of acid and the satisfaction of something almost saccharine. Nevertheless, he seems to know what you need better than you do.

The weight of his body soothes the ache in you, allowing the haze to clear just slightly. At that, you force yourself to hold still, force yourself to simply take the way his fingers make you feel. His shoulders blanket yours easily, and his thighs are strong and powerful in between yours.

Your second orgasm is only marginally stronger than your first, still failing to break the spell of your intoxication. He can feel the way you spasm around his fingers, the way your wetness wets the wrist of his flight suit in a way that makes him pull out, lift his helmet just slightly, and press the digits into his mouth.

You hate the immediate emptiness you feel. You clench fruitlessly around nothing and try to breathe out a plea that’s almost crushed out of you by his weight. Your mind floats aimlessly as you try to focus on regaining your breath, two orgasms normally more than enough to satiate you when its your own hand, but not even close to enough in this moment.

His frustration is palpable as you continue to whine and beg, but he reminds himself that you’re so strung out on whatever is in your system that you can’t help it. You’ll get all you need in time.

“Mando, please,” You can’t seem to understand why he won’t heed your pleas, why he’s still holding out on you.

Except, he isn’t, not really. Especially when he makes quick work of flipping you into his lap and settling you against him as he’s propped up against the wall. Especially when he has you on your knees spread over his thighs, his cock hard against your back and your wrists still pinned together but this time behind your back.

“Patience,” He urges as he pulls his cock out of his flight suit with his free hand.

He coats himself in the combination of your arousal and his spit, the combination doing something deadly to how badly he wants you. You’re still half delirious, unsure of how this will end.

When he finally, finally, lets you sink onto his length, you think that might finally be what breaks the spell. You can feel just how heavy and thick he sits inside you as he slowly nudges you down. He seems to last forever, but also just long enough at the same time. The head nudges at some spot deeper inside you than you can ever manage to pet with your own fingers.

You can feel yourself clenching around him, trying to adjust to his girth. More than anything, you want him to move. You want him to fuck you so hard it steals your breath, so the pain and burning desire finally fades.

But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t move to prop his feet up on the mattress so he can thrust up into your tight heat. Instead he keeps your hands pinned between your back and his chest so both his hands are free to work up your top. You spasm around his cock and you’re sure you’re staining the crotch of his pants where he’s still wearing them.

“If you’re a good girl, if come like this, I’ll give it to you the way you want it, I’ll fuck you deep with my cock,” He almost croons. The helmet has always distorted what you imagine to be the true tenor of his voice, all lovely and smooth and chocolate rich.

You’re not sure what he means, “like this”, until his fingertips brush over your nipples, until his hands grasp your tits in a firm grip. You jerk in his hold involuntarily, but one of his forearms is already pressed against your ribs as if anticipating your inability to hold still the way he wants you to.

As he continues to play with your nipples, you almost want to tell him that you can’t, not like this. That you’ve tried before and it never got you there, that you just can’t. But the words escape you, and all you can do is try to breathe through the onslaught of sensations. Every exhale comes out a desperate, debased whine.

He pets over your nipples, twists them, even tweaks them in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. It borders on painful as he keeps you pinned to him, not letting you move even a centimeter away from the pads of his fingers. There’s no discernable pattern, as if he’s experimenting with what draws out the most whimpers, what makes you twitch most.

A particularly rough pinch draws a groan from you and one of his hands smooths down your stomach. The way he circles his fingers around where your hole is stretched open around the base of his cock is filthy. The way the tips of fingers prod at the edges of you around him, as if testing if there’s still room for something beyond the sheer girth of him makes your chest heave with the promise of more.

Finally, he touches your clit and rocks his hips up ever so slightly. You gasp wetly as your third orgasm washes through you. Your cunt squeezes him tighter than he ever thought possible and he has to steel himself against the feeling that tugs at his gut at the sound of you panting and the way you respond to the slight shifting of his hips with a weak attempt at riding him. Cumming on his cock brings you light relief, but to your dismay it still isn’t enough.

“You still with me?” Now his hands are petting your sides, and his hips are still.

You respond to a question he didn’t ask, “Need more, Mando,” You whimper.

When he lifts you off his cock, it takes the little lucidity you have not to wail in protest. He manhandles you face down, hips up in between his spread legs. He moves too, settling on his knees behind you, cock level with your cunt but he doesn’t press into you.

The position change allows you to relax a bit, but now you’re more empty, you think, than when you started. You start to whine, to protest, before he pushes into you again. Until you realize that he doesn’t keep going, his hips don’t meet yours. You try and wiggle backwards, take a mile where he gives you an inch, but the grip on your hips is firm.

Stuttering slightly, you try and beg for more, “I-I thought you said if I was good, you’d fuck me the way I want.”

He doesn’t budge, instead one of his hands comes between your legs to stroke your clit in a way that makes your thighs tremble.

“You were good,” He hums, “But give me just one more.”

You lurch forward on the bed when his free hand comes down on your ass with a crack. A broken moan leaves you and you realize you’re begging for him to do it again. He ignores you momentarily, choosing instead to smooth his hand over the heat of your skin where he just spanked you.

The sting of his palm on your other cheek stands in stark relief in comparison to the way he keeps drawing lazy circles around and over your clit.

Despite the way you can feel the way the haze, whatever the source, has begun to leave your system, it still clings to you. It amplifies the way his fingers feel on your clit just enough for you to cum again, squeezing the head of his cock. It’s a dizzying contrast, the way you’re split open on just the beginning of his length, the rest of you clenching on nothing.

He rocks you on him just barely, just enough to draw out your pleasure into the biting overstimulation that comes with four orgasms. Distantly it occurs to you he must be enjoying this somehow, the head of his cock just barely in you as your walls flutter in desperation and arousal, his hands holding your hips so hard you know you’ll bruise. The pain of his fingertips is almost soothing.

You beg for mercy as best you can–beg for him to fuck you properly, you promise anything you think might get him to fill you again: cumming on his cock as many times as he wants; swallowing him down til you can’t breathe and tears streak your face.

“You said–,” You hiccup through what you realize are light sobs of neediness, “You said you would f-fuck me if I gave you one more.”

Instead of replying, he pulls out and lays you on your back. Then, he hitches your thighs up and presses you in half with your ankles at your shoulders. His cock slides wet and hot against your cunt, still soaking from all your previous orgasms mixed with the copious amounts of precum that have leaked from him. He kneads at your ass and thighs like a lothcat with one hand while again holding your wrists above your head with the other.

When he finally slides into you, it knocks all the remaining breath out of your lungs. You don’t fight his hold any more, all your strength sapped and simply willing to take what he gives you. Your head lolls to the side, mouthing at what skin you can reach where he’s pushed his flight suit up over his elbows.

When he finally fucks you, it’s unhurried but each stroke is deep and powerful. You can hear the way his grunts come through the modulator of his helmet and distantly, just barely, it registers in your fucked out mind that he’s muttering absolute filth to you.

“The sweetest cunt I’ve ever had, ever tasted. Maker I can’t believe this is what it took for you to let me take care of you, sweet thing. Always talking back, always trying to prove you know what’s best, even when I’m making you cum. Not so loud-mouthed now, are you?”

The words make your head spin and you can’t decide if you want him to stop since they’re driving you quickly over the edge again or if you want him to keep going, to keep confessing his deep seated desires to you. He makes the decision for you as he lifts the lip of his helmet over his mouth.

“Want you to hear my voice when I tell you how badly I’ve wanted to have you like this. How badly I’ve wanted to have you in my bed. I can hear you through the walls you know, touching yourself and moaning my name, even when you think you’re being quiet. You dirty little thing, you’re so good to me.”

Your fifth orgasm feels like a supernova as he continues to fuck you deeply. It starts in your pussy and spreads to the tips of your fingers, leaving you gasping for air and crying out his name in repeat.

“There you go,” He says, “Cum on my cock like a good girl. You’re doing so well. Maker, you’re so fucking tight.”

That orgasm isn’t what breaks the fog in your mind. It’s him.

You can feel how close he’s getting and you decide, preemptively, to beg again, “Come inside me, please, Mando, please, I need it.”

He groans brokenly as he finishes inside you and the warmth of his come finally clears your mind. You clench rhythmically around him, hoping to milk him for everything he’ll give you. The motion of his hips doesn’t stop, the coarse hair at the base of his cock grinding against your clit sending skittering sparks throughout your body.

When his hips finally stop rocking against yours, it’s finally quiet in the room again. Your body finally feels like it’s your own again, and you can sense the ache in your hips from the way he’s got you pressed in half, the light sting on your ass from where his hands came down hard.

Lifting himself from you with a groan, you hate the way you feel empty, like something is missing, when his softening cock slips from you. You briefly consider begging him to stay with you like that, but your mind whispers, another time.

Instead, you let him stand and shuffle about in the darkness, clearly tucking himself back into his pants. He shucks off your tunic; it makes a heavy sound as it hits the ground somewhere next to the bed. You let him lift your limp, exhausted but finally satiated body, and carry you back to the ‘fresher. You never turned the light off.

Mando turns a small jet of water on and washes you with steady hands between your legs, soapy hands running over your breasts, your shoulders, and your thighs. You try to say thank you, try to ask him if this will change things, but you’re too exhausted to form words. He shines under the artificial lights.

He wraps you in a towel and places you gently into his cot that barely has room for two. It’s then that you realize that since this ordeal started, since he picked you up like you weighed nothing more than a single ration pack, that he hasn’t stopped touching you.

Not when he had his way with you, not when you begged for more, not when he coaxed one more orgasm from you. He kept some part of him in contact with your skin so you knew he was there the entire time. His hands never left you in the ‘fresher as you did your best not to shake like a leaf.

You protest weakly as he goes to leave and the lack of physical contact registers in your exhausted mind. It’s the first thing that’s come to you clearly since you inhaled that substance in the forest.

He strokes your hair and gently murmurs, “Let me change. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

You want him to stay, to abandon fresh clothes and stay there with you. But you don’t have the ability to voice it. Instead, you let yourself sink into the cot and breathe in the scent of him in the sheets and in the pillow next to your head.

He returns within a few moments, helmet still on but this time stripped of his body armor and apparently in a new flight suit. When he shuffles you over to make room for himself, you exhale deeply in relief.

Next to you, he’s heavy and warm. He pulls you impossibly close to him, your head tucked into his chest and your legs tangled together.

He speaks first, “Are you alright?”

Part of you wants to pretend to already be asleep, but you’re sure if you don’t confront this now, you’ll never do it.

“I think so.” A beat passes. “I’m sorry.”

With his hand ever so gently under your chin, he tilts your head up so you’re making eye contact with the helmet. Even though you can’t see his eyes you’re sure you’re staring into them. You wonder what color they are.

“No reason to be sorry, you needed my help. I wasn’t too rough, was I?” You think he sounds unsure of himself, that maybe he thinks he got too caught in the moment.

You stroke your fingers across the helmet where you imagine his cheekbone might be, “No. It was exactly what I needed. I’m just sorry that you had to find me and feel responsible, I never wanted—“

He stops you by pulling you into his chest, muffling the rest of the sentence. You think you hear the hiss of his helmet release but you’re not sure till you feel his lips on the crown of your head. You hold your breath.

With his lips pressed into your hair, he murmurs softly, “You have never made me take on a burden I didn’t ask or want to take on. You take care of the Crest, of the Child, you have to let me do the same for you.”

The helmet hisses shut again when he tilts your head up to face him. One un-gloved finger strokes over your facial features, so gentle and tender in comparison to the way you know he’s capable of violence. You’re silent and you let your eyes slide shut, the exhaustion overtaking you.

And that’s how you fall asleep: in the arms of the Mandalorian, content and with a glimmer of something new to come tomorrow.

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Need | Din Djarin x Cobb Vanth

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Please heed these warnings and the warnings put in place on each individual fic and chapter.

Warnings:  Porn with Feelings; Porn With Plot; Anal Sex; Anal Fingering; Anal; Anal Play; Blow Jobs; Prostate Massage; Oral Sex; Lube; Cobb Vanth deserves his own warning; Din Djarin being an anxious idiots; Idiots in Love; Pet Names; mesh'la used liberally; uncut Cobb; Helmetless Din Djarin; the helmet doesn't stay on; set between s2-3; Yearning; Pining; a splash of angst.

Summary: Set post-S2 but pre-BOBF Din can't stop thinking about Cobb, it burns a hole in his chest brighter and hotter than a Supernova. He just needs a taste of intimacy, just a small taste. That'll be enough, right? My first proper M/M fic and I'm so nervous, I hope you enjoy it! Dedicated to my dude @immarocketman, I love you so much <3 Thank you @for-a-longlongtime and @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for beta'ing for me <3 Wordcount: 5.5k Read on AO3

Take it off, or I will.

The words had slipped out of the Mandalorian’s mouth without thought. But the way the marshal’s eyebrows twitched up, followed by the swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip made Din’s insides churn. He’d repeated them the night of the Krayt Dragon’s slaying, when Cobb was naked but for his briefs perched atop Din’s naked form as he lay back on Cobb’s bed. The helmet stayed on that night, but all Din could think about was doing the unthinkable.

He wanted to put his mouth on every inch of the marshal’s body, he wanted it more than anything in the galaxy.

~*~

It’s been over a year since the incident with the Krayt Dragon, and all Din can think about is Cobb. He’s alone in one of the bunks Peli keeps spare for him. His cock is achingly hard as he lays naked, sheets crumpled at the foot of the bed. Peli knows not to disturb him. Ever since he landed on Tatooine with Shand and Fett, he’s been in a slump. Without Grogu things have felt off, wrong, lonely.

Loneliness is not something Din is used to feeling, he hates it with a burning rage that violence can’t seem to quell. Loneliness is something Mandalorians of The Watch steel themselves against, it’s a distraction, a flaw. Wandering alone in the galaxy, providing for the Covert, taking on some of the most dangerous cretins in the universe. None of it leaves room for loneliness.

Loneliness gets you killed.

Take it off, or I will.

The words rattle around Din’s mind as he finally relents, his thick fingers wrapping around his length as he slowly jerks his cock. Cobb’s smug grin is burned behind his eyelids as his hand becomes slick with precome. He squeezes his shaft harder as he imagines Cobb’s lips wrapped around his cock instead of his hand.

He remembers the hot, wet, heat of Cobb’s mouth, the brush of his beard against Din’s thigh. He fixates on the memory of trying to pull out before he came.Cobb instead gripped his ass and held the heft of Din’s cock on his tongue as he erupted into the marshal’s mouth.

“Kriff,” Din hisses into the silence of his room.

His orgasm hits him like a blaster bolt, he comes with a strangled groan that echoes off the walls of the small guest room. His balls tighten and throb as he feels the spike of pleasure burst from his core and up his spine. His breath comes in jagged gasps as white splatters of come coat the dark curls at the base of his cock. His spend leaks down his length, pooling hot against his abdomen as the oppressive heat of Tatooine holds the moment in obscene stasis.

Din lies there for some time, letting the haze of post-orgasm euphoria roll through his body. He doesn’t know what he expected, but the loneliness persists. It gnaws at him as he tries to find the energy to get up and clean off.

~*~

Even in the low light of dusk, the buzz of the thoroughfare speaks to the change in the small town of Mos Pelgo as Din makes his way to the cantina. He slips in, making his way to the back of the bar. He doesn’t want to draw attention, but he needs to see him. Even if it’s just a glimpse. He tells himself that it’ll be enough. It’s a lie, but a convenient one.

It doesn’t take long for Cobb to saunter in, checking in with the bartender. It’s a brief conversation, punctuated with a nod in Din’s direction from the barkeep. Din’s blood runs hot then cold as Cobb makes his way to his table. He has a bottle of something golden in one hand and two short cups in the other.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Cobb says with a smirk as he stops just short of Din’s table, “This seat taken?”

Din grunts in assent, not finding the courage to speak as he nods to the chair on the other side of the table. He’s sweating through his flight suit, and it has nothing to do with the desert planet’s atmosphere. Din knows fear, he knows how to manage something as abstract a concept as fear. But what he feels right now is dread. Dread is a weight on his chest that anchors him in place, trapping him without a means to escape.

He should never have come.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favourite Mandalorian. How’ve you been?” Cobb asks as he eases himself down onto the seat opposite. He eyes Mando up and down as he notices the way Din shifts in his chair.  

Cobb pours two measures of the spirit before raising his cup in toast. He expects Mando to decline, as always, but his eyes widen as he watches his friend lift the cup. In a slow, purposeful motion Mando pitches his head back in the gloom of the bar. His free hand shifts his helmet up and he brings the drink to his lips, tipping back the liquid in one swift flick of his wrist. In the low lighting Cobb can’t see anything but the act in itself unsettles the marshal.

“Been better,” Mando answers as he reseats his helmet, “You?”

“Things are fine here, thriving since you last visited, we’re working with the Tuskens more and more, it’s a mutually beneficial arrangement,” Cobb says with a guarded expression, he’s trying to figure out what’s eating at his sometimes-friend, sometimes-lover.

“Good,” Din nods, his visor flashing in the low light, “That’s good.”

“Want to tell me what’s on your mind?” Cobb presses as he pours another measure in both their glasses. Mando doesn’t drink this time, instead holding the small container between his thumb and forefinger.

“Nothing,” Din grunts before swirling the liquid around his glass, his helmet dipped low as he avoids the topic. They sit together in silence for some time, Din’s gaze is fixed on Cobb’s face.

He takes in the way Cobb’s beard is fuller than before. His forehead bears deeper lines, crow’s feet crease at the corners of his eyes. It’s been just over a standard year, but the harsh binary suns of Tatooine have taken their toll. However, Cobb’s eyes are brighter than ever, his swirling light brown irises still sparkle with the fire of arrogance but hold a softer glow. Contentment, a wealth that cannot be measured in credits, but in fulfilment.

“As riveting as this is,” Cobb sighs as he stands up, “I’m going to head home, it’s nice to see you Mando, bottles on me.”

“Wait,” Din grabs Cobb’s wrist with lightning speed, his thick gloved fingers firm on the other man’s arm.

“You ready to tell me why you’re really here?” Cobb’s eyes sparkle with challenge, he knows why, he just wants Din to admit it.

“I came to see you,” Din says softly, his voice only just picking up on the vocoder in his helmet, “I missed you.”

“You missed me?” Cobb purrs and Mando’s stomach twists as he feels something like shame flood his system.

“Forget it,” Din snaps as he pulls his hand away, already on his feet, “Enjoy your evening, marshal.”

But Cobb squares up to him, blocking his path out of the cantina, he pushes him back against the wall. Din’s breath hitches in his throat as he watches Cobb’s broad hand flatten against his chest plate. Din’s hands hang limply at his sides as he finds himself startled for the first time in a very long time.

“You missed me, Mando?” Cobb’s voice drops a register as he repeats his question, a sly smile twitching at the corner of his full lips.

“Yes,” Din breathes as he watches Cobb’s eyes drift down to the growing bulge in Din’s flight suit. He can’t help but hold his breath as the other man steps closer, his lips but a hair’s breadth away from the Mandalorian’s helmet.

“Didn’t think you were allowed to miss people like me, Mando,” Cobb says as he looks up into the inky blackness of Din’s visor, “Does it help to know I missed you too?”

Din’s jaw goes slack as he feels the tight knot of negative emotions in his chest unravels. It’s like he’s broken free of a garotte, he feels lightheaded, dizzy, and so very aware of how close Cobb is to him now.

“Cobb,” Din says softly as he scans the room, conscious of any prying eyes to what has turned into such an intimate moment.

“Come home with me,” Cobb says softly as he steps back, giving the Mandalorian some space, “Unless you think you can’t live up to last time.”

“Are you sure?” Din asks as he practically vibrates as he holds himself back. His fingertips itch with the need to touch Cobb’s bare skin again.

“Never been surer of anythin’ in my life, now come on, we’ve got lost time to make up for.”

The pair exit the cantina together, close enough that their fingertips brush as they walk. Pinky fingers touching every few steps. It’s like a silent exchange of intent, flirting wordlessly as electricity sparks between them with every caress of bare skin against textured leather.

Din angles his helmet subtly, letting himself drink in the slight form of the marshal. Cobb unknowingly mirrors the action and his lips curve into a wide smile as he catches the Mandalorian checking him out. Neither say a word until the door to Cobb’s home hisses shut behind them.

There’s a shift in the air between them as Cobb brushes past Din, his hips swaying as he enters the central room in the small hut. Din watches him go, salivating at the deliberate change in the marshal’s gait. His dick strains against the tight flight suit as he tries to control himself. He doesn’t want to spoil this, not with eagerness, not with mindless pleasure.

He wants to do this right.

“Do you want a drink?” Cobb calls over his shoulder as he reaches the far side of the room, reaching up to grab earthenware cups from a high shelf. Din treads lightly as he comes up behind Cobb, his Beskar barely making a sound as he moves. There’s a thrill in this, moving soundlessly in Beskar is no easy feat, it’s something usually reserved for quarry.

“No,” Din says softly as Cobb yelps, Din’s firm hands find purchase on Cobb’s hips.

“I see, right down to business, never struck me as the desperate type Mando,” Cobb laughs but Din growls in response as he grinds his clothed cock against Cobb’s ass, pinning him to the counter.

“I don’t want a drink,” he rumbles as one hand snakes up to grip Cobb’s neck from the front, thick fingers framing Cobb’s jaw, pulling him back against Din’s armoured form, “I want to taste you.”

“I like this side of you, Mando, so bold,” Cobb purrs as he abandons his quest for mugs, he turns in Din’s grip, “How do you propose going about tasting me?” He asks as he leans forward, Din’s thick fingers are still wrapped around Cobb’s neck and the marshal leans into the pressure as he rests his forehead against the cool Beskar of Din’s helmet.

“Going to put my mouth here,” Din glides his hand up over Cobb’s jaw, gloved thumb brushing over his lower lip, “and here,” he trails his fingertip back down his chin, lower, lingering over Cobb’s sternum, “and here,” Din growls and his cock aches at the intake of breath from the marshal.

“Wish I could see you,” Cobb breathes, and he flinches, the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. Cobb is about to say something, anything to walk back from his slip up. Din smirks beneath his helmet, it’s a twisted grimace turned smile as he realises there’s no point holding back any longer.

“Take it off,” Din commands as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of Cobb’s pants, “Take it off, or I will.”

“Mando, what are you-?”

“Take it off, or I will.”

There’s a charged silence as Cobb tries to move, his body is frozen in place as he fights against the voice in the back of his mind. He knows this is forbidden, he knows it’s a big kriffing deal, but that makes it all the more enticing. His dick twitches in anticipation.

“Are you sure?” Cobb’s breathing hitches as Din’s free hand cups his face, gloved thumb rubbing through his thick, silvered beard.

“Please.”

It’s a plea brimming with desperation, filled with an unspoken need. It’s exactly what Cobb needs to hear.

“Seein’ as you asked so nice,” Cobb smirks with bared teeth and Din’s stomach twists as he feels the flutter of anxiety gnaw at him. He drops his hand from Cobb’s face, both hands move to Cobb’s waist and Din holds himself steady.

Cobb brings both hands up to cup the concave cheeks of Din’s helmet, fingers splayed across the angular Beskar as he holds the object of Din’s Creed in the palms of his hands.

“Close your eyes,” Cobb says softly as he presses his forehead to the Beskar in front of him, “Trust me.”

Din does as instructed, his eyes clamp shut as he tightens his grip on Cobb’s waist. The hiss-click of his helmet depressurising has him shuddering, there’s no going back now.

“Keep ‘em shut,” Cobb coos as Din feels the helmet lift away, the thick, humid air of the evening hitting his skin like a smothering blanket. He gasps as he forces his eyes to stay closed. Tension twists through his whole body as he hears his helmet being set down somewhere to his right.

“You’re beautiful, Mando,” Cobb’s voice is breathless, awestruck and filled with deep reverence that makes Din’s lips part in desire.

“Kiss me,” Din commands and he cringes as he hears Cobb chuckle.

“So needy,” Cobb whispers as he places his hands on Din’s face, just like on his helmet, he spreads his fingertips under Din’s jaw, thumbs pressed into his cheekbones as he takes him in. He studies the neatly trimmed facial hair, with clear patches where it refuses to grow. He salivates at Din’s plush lips, plump and so full. His eyes are still closed, his brow furrowed, and Cobb wants nothing more than to see those eyes open.

“Cobb, please-,”

Din groans as Cobb’s lips brush over his own. Cobb smiles at the guttural sound as he takes Din’s top lip between his own, pulling on it lightly before bumping his nose against the strong plane of the Mandalorian’s own. He releases his lip gently, their short breaths mingling in the space between them as both men pant from the brief exchange.

“Wanted to do that since the moment I saw you, Mando,” Cobb whispers, lips brushing over one another once more as he speaks, “Didn’t care what you looked like under here, just knew I needed this.”

Din’s grip is unwavering on Cobb’s pants as he leans forward and presses their foreheads together. Slowly, Din opens his eyes and groans as he sees Cobb’s flush cheeks, plump lips, and striking brown eyes for the first time without a helmet on.

“Stars, you’re gorgeous,” Din growls as he leans back, looking up into the marshal’s hooded eyes. There’s a moment of charged silence where neither is sure who will make the next move.

“You sure this is ok?” Cobb asks as he looks down, abashed at finally being shown Din’s face. It’s Din’s turn to cup the other man’s face.

“I wouldn’t have come if I wasn’t sure,” he promises as he tilts the marshal’s head up to look at him once more, “I’ll explain everything later, but for now?” Din asks as he presses his lips to the corner of Cobb’s mouth, lips brushing his silvered moustache as he speaks, “Let me taste you, all of you.”

It’s Cobb’s turn to moan as he turns his head to kiss Din once more. This time there’s an urgent hunger to it, their lips crash together, mouths ceding to tongues as they waste no time in consuming each other. Din’s tongue dips into Cobb’s mouth as he backs him towards the bedroom. His hands are on the marshal’s shirt, pulling at it with thick, eager fingers.

The back of Cobb’s knees hit the bed and he flops backwards, pulling the Beskar-clad man down on top of him. Din plants his hands either side of Cobb’s head as he lands, softening the blow of his heavy, armoured form from crushing the marshal.

“That was reckless,” Din growls, but his face is alight with desire as he sees his lover’s face flushed and needy beneath him.

“You make me reckless,” Cobb responds with a wink and Din fists the bedsheets with both hands as he drops his head low, nudging the other man’s head to the side with his nose. His lips brush against the thatch of silver hair that lines Cobb’s jaw, and Din smiles in triumph as the marshal arches up against him.

“I want you to strip for me, can you do that?” Din whispers as he grinds his cock down onto the other man’s equally hard bulge. The friction from Cobb’s pants and Din’s flight suit makes both men groan, Din’s breathy and desperate, Cobb’s low and thick with desire.

“Sure thing, handsome,” Cobb groans as he watches the Mandalorian retreat a few steps, hands already making quick work of his armour as his dark brown eyes never leave the marshal’s. Cobb kneels on the bed, removing the stained red bandana from his neck as Din drops his cape. The pair can’t stop smiling as they undress.

Cobb removes his overshirt, off comes Din’s pauldrons, his chest plate. Cobb kicks off his boots and Din’s vambraces are placed in a pile of ever-growing Beskar. Belts come off in unison and the rumbling chuckle around the small room is infectious.

“This is a lot slower than last time, Mando,” Cobb quips as he works at his pants, shoving them down as Din removes the last piece of his armour. He sets the boots to the side, clad only in his dark flight suit now.

“Please, Cobb,” Din says as he unzips the top half of the suit, “Call me Din.”

“Din,” Cobb says as he kicks off his pants, discarding them as he sits in just his tight black briefs, “I like it, punchy.”

Din shakes his head, his cheeks burning from how hard he’s smiling at the flirtatious man before him.

“Did you talk this much last time?” Din growls affectionately as he shrugs off the top half of his suit, baring his tan skin, adorned with tattoos that range from dark inky blue to luminous icy tones. Cobb licks his lips as he maps the inked, scarred, tapestry before him.

“Last time I didn’t get much time to talk, I recall my mouth was otherwise occupied,” Cobb flutters his eyelashes playfully up and Din and the Mandalorian shakes his head in disbelief.

“Well, that won’t be a problem this time,” Din says with a wolfish grin as he strips the last half of his flight suit off, “On your back, briefs down marshal.”

“So bossy, where’s the romance, the wooing Mando?”

“Din,” he corrects Cobb as he frees his cock from his briefs, kicking them off with the flight suit, “And if you wanted to be wooed, you wouldn’t have let me fuck your pretty little mouth so easily last time.”

“You’ve got me there,” Cobb says as his cheeks flush bright red before he pulls his briefs down. Din groans, palming his cock as he strides over to the bed. Cobb leans forward, eager to touch Din again but he’s reprimanded with a gentle shove to the sternum and a tsk from Din.

“On your back, mesh’la,” he says as he gets on his knees in front of Cobb, “Let me return the favour.”

Cobb does as he’s told, but he props himself up on his elbows, he doesn’t want to miss a single second of Din’s handsome face now he’s had a glimpse. Din parts his lover’s legs slowly, palms flat, fingers digging into the firmness of his muscular thighs. He places soft kisses to the inside of Cobb’s left knee, chaste, teasing brushes of his plush lips and stubble that make Cobb tremble beneath him. There’s a soft tang of sweat on Din’s lips as he makes his way up the inside of Cobb’s thigh, he laves soft swirls of his tongue over his lover’s skin as he makes his way up to the apex of Cobb’s thighs.

“Such a gorgeous cock,” Din mutters, almost to himself as he settles his torso between Cobb’s legs, keeping him open wide. His one hand cups Cobb’s balls, the other wraps gently around the base of his dick. Din’s own cock throbs at the way precome beads pearlescent at the tip as he pulls Cobb’s foreskin back a little to reveal the ruddy head.

Din eases his lips around Cobb’s cock, flattening his tongue as he hollows his cheeks to accommodate the marshal’s length. The bitter, musky taste of precome coats Din’s mouth as he groans around the thick weight of Cobb’s cock in his mouth. He eases himself down to the base, the telltale tightness in his throat from the panicked thrill of being so full, so close to gagging, has Din leaking over his own shaft.

“Kriff,” Cobb lets out a soft, breathy cry as Din worships him.

Din eases back as he runs the tip of his tongue over the ruddy head, suckling gently as Cobb shudders and whines beneath him.

“I could listen to you all night, mesh’la,” Din hums softly as he runs his tongue down the underside of Cobb’s shaft.

“Din, please,” Cobb whines as Din slots his mouth over one of his lover’s balls, rolling his tongue over it as he hums.

“Said I wanted to taste you,” Din says as he dips his tongue lower, his palms pushing on the backs of Cobb’s thighs as he angles his ass off the bed, “I’m taking my time.”

“Patience isn’t one of my virtues, Din,” Cobb says, voice light and breathy.

“Hmmm, then what do you want from me?” Din asks, hoping beyond hope it’s what he’s been thinking about since he fucked his fist only last night.

“I want you to fuck me,” Cobb says through gritted teeth as Din dips his head lower, his hot tongue inching lower to Cobb’s taint, teasing just shy of his asshole.

“Kriff,” Din groans against the soft weight of Cobb’s balls, “You want me to fuck this tight hole with my cock, marshal?”

Din brings his middle finger to his mouth, soaking it with his saliva before he slides his hand underneath Cobb. He teases his slick finger over Cobb’s exposed asshole as his balls reast heavy in Din’s palm. Cobb groans and bucks his hips up at the sensation, a soft series of pants follow as Din presses the pad of his fingertip to the puckered ring. Din licks a slow stripe up Cobb’s shaft before flicking his tongue against the head of Cobb’s cock.

“Quit with the teasing,” Cobb hisses as Din refuses to breach his hole, the wet heat of the Mandalorian’s mouth on his tip only drives the pitch of his voice higher.

“Not doing this without lube. You do have lube, right?”

“I’m not some inexperienced pup,” Cobb huffs indignantly as Din looks up at him from between his knees. The Mandalorian’s dark eyes are addled with lust as he wraps his lips around Cobb’s cock before sinking down to the base, “It’s in my nightstand,” Cobb’s head falls back at the way Din sucks his cock, mouth tight and tongue unrelenting as it massages the underside of his shaft.  

Din bobs his head up and down torturously slow as he savours the weight of the cock in his mouth. He finally releases it with a wet pop before sitting back on his heels, watching how the strong man before him twitches and pants for him. He knows Cobb is close, and as much as he wants to know what it’s like to have the marshal finish inside his mouth, he has other plans.

“On all fours, facing the headboard.”

The command is curt and without fanfare, Din’s own restraint is running thin. He wants to bury himself inside Cobb, carve a space out inside the other man that no-one else can fill. He wants to lay claim to his body and soul, the way Cobb – knowingly or not – has already claimed his own.

Cobb watches Din over his shoulder as he makes his way to the nightstand. Din rifles through the drawers to find an assortment of plugs and dildos nestled amongst different containers of lube. One large black dildo catches Din’s eye, and he relishes in the challenge of meeting the marshal’s expectations.  

“Adventurous,” Din says absently as he looks over his shoulder to see Cobb grinning wolfishly at him.

“This isn’t my first rodeo, handsome.”

The pet name stirs something in Din’s lower belly, a tight twist of desire that has his balls throbbing and his dick twitching. He says nothing, grabbing the open container of lube from the drawer before squirting a few pumps into his hand.

Din glides the liquid over his cock and shudders at the way it feels. It’s wet, sensual, filled with promise as he kneels on the bed behind Cobb. He bites his lip as he runs his free hand over the swell of Cobb’s ass, cupping and kneading the firm skin. His fingertips brush over Cobb’s asshole and Din can’t help but smirk at the way his lover’s body reacts.

Din squirts some lube onto his fingers, making sure some of the liquid drips over the puckered hole before easing his middle finger inside Cobb. The lube lets Din slide in with little resistance, the tight heat of Cobb’s asshole is divine as Din gently feels for his prostate.

“Dank Farrik!” Cobb cries out, his body stutters and Din wraps a supportive arm around his waist, holding him up as he nips at the curve of Cobb’s ass.

“There it is,” Din purrs as he varies the pressure on Cobb’s prostate, “Want me to fuck you here, nice and deep?”

“Din, please, I’m so close, please just fuck me,” the marshal begs and Din smiles as he feels heat stirring at the base of his cock, he knows he’s going to blow his load in seconds the moment he’s inside Cobb.

“Alright,” Din growls as he eases his finger out, “Tell me if it’s too much, ok? Didn’t give me much time to work you open,” Din says, without a trace of humour in his voice as he squirts some fresh lube over Cobb’s needy little hole. It gapes ever so slightly from Din’s thick finger and the sight makes Din squeeze the base of his cock to try and calm down.

“I’m a big boy, Din, I can handle-,” Cobb starts but a deep snarl catches in his throat as Din lines up the tip of his cock at Cobb’s tight hole before he can finish his sentence.

“Relax, mesh’la,” Din says softly as he grips Cobb’s hips lightly, his thumbs soothe over his lover’s skin as he holds him steady, “I’m going to take care of you, ok?”

Cobb’s face is pressed into the bed now, his arms giving out on him as Din eases the tip inside him. He still manages to convey a muffled “Mhm!”.

“Kriff,” Din groans as he lets the lube do the work, he eases into Cobb at a painfully slow pace, but Din promised Cobb – and himself – he wouldn’t rush this.

Cobb writhes as Din presses deeper, his skin slick and his whole body consumed by the feeling of being split open. It doesn’t take long before din is fully sheathed inside Cobb, his brow furrowed and his mouth agape as he feels the way Cobb’s walls clamp around his cock. It’s heaven to be buried so deep, to be so close to his lover, but it’s not enough.

“Din,” Cobb tilts his head to the side, cheek pressed into the mattress as he looks sideways at the Mandalorian, “You’re gonna have to move, I’m desperate here.”

“I can’t say no to that,” Din grunts as he slowly eases back out, the tightness of Cobb’s ass is like a vice. It makes Din feel lightheaded as he starts to ease back in, the tightness is blinding as he fills Cobb over and over.

Din rolls his hips forward with every thrust into Cobb’s tight ass, grinding against his prostate as he drops a hand to fist Cobb’s cock. There’s no more burn or stretch for Cobb, the only thing he feels is the tightness in his balls as he feels the sudden rush of his orgasm approaching. The slow, firm pumps of his cock driving him to the edge as he feels so utterly consumed by Din.

“Din,” Cobb mewls as the sound of skin slapping skin fills the air.

“I’ve got you,” Din breathes as he leans back on his thighs, pulling the marshal back against his chest, cock buried deep inside him as he changes the angle, “Come for me, mesh’la, let me see you come undone,” he presses his nose into the sensitive skin behind Cobb’s ear as he pants against his jaw from behind.

“Maker,” Cobb groans as he leans back on Din, he’s so full.

Cobb feels his dick twitch as Din’s cock fucks up into him, nudging his prostate with every upwards snap of the Mandalorian’s hips. Cobb comes with a cry as Din thumbs the head of his cock while rolling his hips up, grinding up into his ass. Hot spurts of come explode from Cobb’s cock, covering his abdomen, coating Din’s fingers as he shudders through overstimulated aftershocks as Din picks up the pace.

“There you go,” Din snarls as he takes the marshal’s lobe between his teeth, nipping at the skin as he feels the coil of pressure in his abdomen snap. He falls forward, pushing Cobb back down on all fours as he fucks down into Cobb’s ass with fervour. He manages another few hurried, stuttered thrusts before he’s coming hard.

His vision blurs at the edges as he empties himself inside Cobb’s ass. He lets out a soft groan as his fingertips dig into Cobb’s hips. He stills finally as he rests his forehead between Cobb’s shoulder blades.

Din’s thighs are weak, and his grip is slipping as the only sound in the small bedroom is the heavy panting coming from both men as they come down from their high. Din eases out of Cobb slowly, making sure not to pull out too quickly. Din’s breath hitches at the sight of his come leaking out of Cobb’s tight asshole. The viscous, pearly spend dribbles down the marshal’s balls, Din has to fight the urge to lean down and lap it up.

“Come on,” Din wheezes as he struggles to keep the marshal from falling into the come soaked sheets, “’Fresher.”

“Yessir,” Cobb slurs happily as he lets Din manhandle him upright.

“How was that for you?” Din asks with worry tinging his voice as he regains clarity, concerned he had gone too hard.

“You kidding?” Cobb laughs, his voice sounding less floaty by the minute, “That was the best fuck I’ve ever had Mand- Din,” He corrects himself as he stumbles over to the toilet to relief himself. He flops down onto the toilet seat and grins up at Din. Din feels like the sound of Cobb relieving himself should make him feel bashful, but there’s something oddly comforting about it. It feels domestic and familiar, like they’ve done it a thousand times before.

“I’m glad,” Din says, still in awe at the sight of Cobb’s face, he reaches out and cups his lover’s cheek gently, “Thank you.”

“Thank me?” Cobb scoffs as he stands, cupping Din’s jaw in a perfect mirror as he really looks at him “Thank you,” Cobb says softly as he presses his forehead to Din’s, “Thank you for coming back.”

Din pauses, unsure what to say as emotion overwhelms him, tears pool in the corners of his eyes as he leans forward to kiss Cobb. It’s a slow, gentle series of lips sliding over one another, with no intended goal, no meaning or fanfare.

A stolen moment, an unspoken admission, a silent promise.

“Now clean up and get your ass to bed,” Cobb murmurs against Din’s lips, “I’m beat.”

Din laughs as Cobb grabs his ass affectionately before slipping out of the Refresher.

The Mandalorian crawls into bed minutes later, nestling into Cobb’s side as he loops a strong thigh over the other man’s waist.

“Promise not to wait so long next time?” Cobb asks, already falling asleep, his lips pressed to the crown of Din’s head as he speaks.

“Promise.”

Din lets his eyes fall shut as he finally feels the knot in his chest unravel, leaving only one thought in his mind.

Home.

[flaccid-rats]

I want a star wars time travel fic but not like. A fix it ‘kill Palpatine and stop the fall of the Order’ fic. I want a time travel fic where Din Djarin, due to Force shenanigans caused by his gremlin son, keeps getting thrown into various points in time and no matter where he ends up or what time he’s in or how hard he tries to avoid it he ALWAYS ends up getting the Darksaber and subsequently has to try (and fail) to talk his way out of being Mand’alor

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Fluffy Din Djarin blurb?

Maybe he's trying to convince her to let him go on a run into town to grab supplies but she's not having any of it, worrying about him and practically clinging to him?

uh DUH THIS IS SO CUTE.

"I'll only be gone for a little while. You and the kid can stay here and- oomph." My cheek hits Din's chest and he laughs, arms briefly out to the side as he looks down at me, head tilted inquisitively. "What's wrong?"

"I just got you back." I mutter against the beskar plates with a sigh, eyes shutting as tightly possible, trapping the tears behind them while his hand reaches up to cradle the back of my head.

"What do you mean?" He asks, gruff voice making my stomach flip and I smile a bittersweet grin, feeling like he's already so far away.

"You just got back from getting a bounty. You've barely been back for ten hours." I look up at him with a huff, chin resting on the chest plate of his armor and he sighs, modulated breath sounding through the machine but I can feel his breath from under his mask. How I so desperately wish I could lift it up and see his face.

"I like to be busy." He shrugs as if it's the simplest thing on earth but it just makes my brows furrow deeper as my arms trap him to me, hands tightly secured behind his back.

"Be busy with me." I plead, feeling a gloved hand on my cheek as I allow my eyes to flutter shut, a smile taking over the previous pout on my lips and he laughs heartily. "That's not what I mean." I mutter, sensing the fact that it sounded like an innuendo and, though unintended, it's still funny.

"Are you trying to tell me that you miss me?" He asks and I giggle, nodding my head as he traps my face in his hands, resting his forehead against mine.

"I miss you, Din." I coo, setting my hands on his chest so I can almost feel his heartbeat beneath my hands.

"Then I'll stay." He gives in, shoulders relaxing a bit as Grogu coos beside us, both of our heads tilting down to look at him with happy grins. I guess we're having a family day in.

[gone-to-fight-the-fairies]

Allure

Summary: Din sees where all of his missing shirts have gone.  Paring: Din Djarin x jedi!Reader Warnings: minor violence, sex heavily implied, longing & lust. Word count: 850 A/n: This has occupied my mind for months and I’m very happy to finally share it with all of you!

Din has to turn his helmet away and focus solely on the intruder.

He can handle a tracker, another bounty hunter after the child. A crook too sloppy for the guild to ever consider. One who didn’t consider the clank of the Crest ramp lowering in the dead of night. One who didn’t do their homework and didn’t know that there was a Jedi onboard. Din could watch him squeal and choke under your hold. His legs dangling inches off the ground, kicking and scratching the walls, trying to get a grip on a force beyond him. Din wouldn’t even mind if you killed him. Anyone who dared to lay a hand on the kid was dead in his eyes. But what Din can’t handle the sheer sight of you at this ungodly hour.

An oversized shirt, Din’s flightsuit shirt, drapes over your frame. The shoulders is too wide and the fabric slings to the left exposing your own shoulder. The fabric is scrunched from sleep and lands dangerously high on the thigh.  

And maker, that could’ve ended Din right there. 

You’d been asleep in his bunk. A room where custody rotated around the clock. Where you slept at night while Din flew the Razor Crest and he slept mornings into the afternoon on sheets scented with you. Where he’d imagined sleeping beside you on more than one occasion. And usually more than sleep entertained his mind.

Din’s heart thumps against his chest and can’t focus on the intruder. He watches you wield the force. When you lift an arm the bottom hem lifts just enough to see a thin, tight line of fabric just beneath. He has to tear, rip his eyes, like a lion from its meal, away from the sight. But Din’s claws dig into the memory, and even when his eyes land elsewhere they’re clouded from the thought.

Din imagines that this is how you always looked in his bed while he was only feet away in the cockpit. In his shirt. He only has a few and knew a couple were missing, but if he’d known this is where they’d gone he would’ve given them all. 

Giving into temptation, Din disappears into his own fantasies. He imagines you curled up on his cot, your breast making mounds in the fabric as the rest curves around your frame. He pictures himself climbing into bed, the small cot too small for the both of you so he settles on top of you, exploring your soft skin, tugging that pesky piece of underwear, leaving you solely in his shirt. Bunching up the material, gripping it in the palm of his hand as his flesh met yours-

Din shouldn’t imagine you like that. Grogu’s teacher, a Jedi. 

Well- someone strong with the force. You didn’t like the term Jedi. But when the occasion rose, you had the intruder flush against the ship’s walls, tightening your grip around his throat. A very un-Jedi-like thing to do. But Din didn’t mind.

You would do anything to protect Grogu. Your commitment drew Din in, and your personality sealed his fate. And now your physical… attributions made Din’s armor grow tight. And he hoped, prayed that you were too occupied to notice.

This was not the time. He should be helping, instead of standing there like a womp rat. But you had the problem handled before Din’s boots left the ladder. 

The ramp lowers and Din anchors himself back into reality. The bounty hunter drops to the floor with a clank sure to wake the child.

“What are you doing?” Din asks, but his eyes remain on the hunter. 

“Go.” You ignore Din, directing the impromptu order towards the bounty hunter. “And tell everyone that the child is not only under the protection of the Mandalorians, but also the Jedi.”

It takes a second or two. The man's eyes dart between the night sky and you before sprinting into the forest and disappearing into the night. 

Din no longer has an excuse, he has to look at you. And you were just as breathtaking as you were moments before. Maybe more. “Why did you do that?”

“I really didn’t feel like disposing of a body right now, and I think you have other things on your mind.”

Din’s jaw slacks. Though his face is hidden he feels as though you can see right through the beskar. 

“I can sense what you feel, you can’t pretend that I don’t,” you stalk towards Din. The dark look in your eyes make Din feel like prey. “It’s the same way that I can sense when you think about me in the cockpit all alone at night. ”

“I shouldn’t, I’m sorr-”

“You think I wore this,” you pinch the shoulder of the sleeve. “by mistake?”

Din blinks. He feels like an idiot. 

Your eyes shift for a moment before Din sees something mischievous in them. “Grogu is still asleep. You can show me what you were thinking about, if you like.”

Maker, you would be the end of him.

[moralesispunk]

Claraste (Din Djarin x Female Witch! Reader)

Previous chapter / Fic Masterlist

Summary: Din stays at the farm for longer than ever before, giving the both of them time to think about what life could be like if he stayed

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, talk of contraceptive tea, feelings, this is third person but there are no descriptions of the witch other than using she/her pronouns so I have labelled as reader insert in the hope it can come across that way (although please tell me kindly if not and I will update to x oc), canon typical violence

Word Count: 4.3k

Din had stayed for longer than ever before. Two whole weeks where the walls they had thrown up between them began to crack and splinter until they could finally dream of a life he could - would - build here. 

The morning after the first night had been the only sense of reality they gave into, a contraceptive tea slipping past her lips as she leaned against the uneven wooden rail around the cottage porch while watching on as Din got to work weeding around the edge of her flower patch. One day was all that was said as the tea steeped in the delicate mug and Din nodded, his hand sweeping from her hip only covered in a thin slip dress to her low belly as he kissed her cheek.

Kissed.

Her fingers ghosted over her lips that still felt bruised in the bright light of day from how they had kissed the night before, like it was the first and last time they would ever get the chance to give in to the temptation. Until now, Din’s helmet had been the last barrier they had kept up between them and now that it was gone…

The sun caught his dark head of hair as he stood up from kneeling by the flower patch and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand as he turned to look back at her, his face still mostly covered by the frown she had heard in his voice for years but his eyes holding a softness she had yearned for.

Din had never said out loud that he had also let himself dream of a quieter, steadier life and for as long as she had known him - from the second time he had visited her here - she knew that he was keeping it locked up inside his chest for protection. At first it was a fools dream - a Mandalorian thinking he could ever be the kind of man who would live the life of a dutiful husband and father on a quiet stretch of land on some forgotten planet and a witch thinking that there was anything other than a lonesome life where she was but a page in the novels of others, healing them or feeding them before they went onto their adventures, written in the stars - but now… Now ten years had gone by where he would return at least twice a rotation of Terra and he would slip into her life like he had never left, telling her stories of the planets he had seen and the people he had met, but they were growing tired and she felt it in her bones.

She loved Din more than she had loved anyone, but with that love came the yearning for a full life. The yearning for a husband to wake up to every day who would kiss her bare shoulder as she woke up like Din had done this morning. Who would help her on the farm. Who would listen to the made up adventures she had in her mind and would make promises of showing her even an inch more of the galaxy than she had ever seen. Who would hold her, cherish her, let her love him, perhaps one day raise children who knew what love was like, just as she had as a child when she watched her own parents.

She knew they would have to give themselves more than they ever had before - whether by finally giving in to how their hearts and souls had twined round one another over the years or to let go, let each other move on.

What was between them was a love like that created between Astra and Terra. Terra had watched the bright star - Claraste - every night like the rest of the stars until one night it came hurtling towards her and chipped Terra right out of her arms. 

She had watched Din like any other traveller on his first visit, cautiously and with interest, and then every time after that until… until they were more. 

Even if it made it harder in the end, she told herself that she would enjoy what she could for now. That she would ask him before he left, and not a second sooner, and it was easy enough when he dropped whatever tools were in his hand and she left the mug abandoned by her side as he stalked across the farm towards her, his knees bending and his arm wrapping around the backs of her thighs as his mouth crashed to hers and he carried her inside.

*****

Two weeks, longer than ever before, and the pain in her chest ached harder than usual as he finished tying up his bag and turned to her.

His helmet was still off, perched on the middle of the table and waiting to be slipped on the second he was ready to go, and she found her eyes racing across his face to commit every last bit to memory. The dark brown of his eyes and the tiny glimmer of gold around the edge. The bump in the ridge of his nose and the scar that ran across it. The pout of his bottom lip. The lines of a hard life that edged his eyes.

“I’m going to visit the child,” he said, his hand flexing and releasing by his side.

“Tell him I said hello,” she replied, her voice hollower than he had ever heard it before and he found his legs carrying him across the room before his mind had even caught up, his hands holding the sides of her face.

“Something is wrong.” There was no question in his words and it only made her chest ache more from how well he knew her. 

Her hands raised to cover his and slipped them from her face to where she instead held them between their bodies.

“Yes and no.” His brows pinched together and she sighed. “I’ve always accepted this life for what it is, Din. I was never angry that my parents had been murdered, never sought revenge for their lives that were stolen away and mine that was displaced. I’m glad I didn’t, I don’t think I have it in me to be vengeful, but… I can’t sit by and let my life go by without doing something.

“I love you, Din,” she said, and the way he reacted to hearing those words for the first time - his mouth falling open and his shoulders softening - lodged under her ribs and right by her heart as she continued to talk. “No matter what we decide, I will always love you, but I need…” She trailed off with a sigh. 

“More,” Din finished for her and she nodded.

“I know I can’t ask you to promise me anything here and now but… when you come back I need you to have an answer for me, Din. It’s the only thing I’ve ever asked you.”

His thumb brushed across her knuckles, dark eyes flicking back and forth between hers as he swallowed heavily and nodded. “I swear it.”

It wasn't a yes - or a no - but the unease was forgotten when his mouth crashed against hers, her wrists tangling behind his neck and his hands squeezing and roaming her body. His palms weighed heavy on the bottom of her back and back of her neck as he walked them towards the kitchen table and his tongue pressed into her mouth.

When her back met the edge of the table he pulled away long enough to lift her dress up and over her head, his mouth kissing down her neck and shoulder as he lifted her onto the steady oak surface and with a palm in the centre of her chest he laid her down against it and remained towering over her. 

It took everything in him not to rip his clothes from his body and fill her now, instead taking his layers off slowly as he kissed and touched every inch of her beautiful body beneath him, marvelling in how her eyes tracked each movement with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth until her entire body was covered in goosebumps and she wrapped her hand around his cock, tugging it once in a way that wasn’t painful but made him hiss - and her smirk - nonetheless. 

His palm wrapped around hers, holding her still as he raised an eyebrow down at her and he had to stop his knees from buckling as he watched the shiver wreck through her body - her chest heaving in need and anticipation as he gathered her wrists in his hand and held them against the table above her head. 

“I have the chance to taste you once more before I leave,” he said as he bent to kneel before her spread legs, his forefinger and thumb spreading her open and his warm breath fanning her when he spoke again. “I won't be leaving till I take that chance.”

His shoulders kept her thighs open for him, the scruff around his jaw tickling her soft skin as he licked slowly up until his lips wrapped around her clit and he sucked. He did this again and again, her thighs tensing and releasing over his shoulders. 

When her head rolled to the side and her back arched from the table, she caught sight of Din’s reflection in the mirror peeking out from behind a chair, his strong profile kneeling between her legs and his hand-

She let out a low moan, her hips urging him closer against her as she rocked in time with his hand that stroked his cock. The sight of him on his knees before her, pleasuring himself while bringing her pleasure, was enough to thrust her over the edge and she came with a choked gasp as her thighs pressed to the side of his head and he guided her through each wave until the heel of her palm tapped his forehead. 

He stood with a low growl, like it took everything in him to pull away from her, and when his body draped over hers to meet her mouth in a kiss she caught sight of his chin and bottom lip that was shining with her before she could taste it on her tongue. 

With his hand planted by her head and the other palming her hip, she reached between their bodies and lined him up as he rocked his hips once and slid inside her fully. They groaned together, their kiss not ending until she took his face in her hands and pulled back enough to look into his eyes before looking down to where their bodies met as he continued to thrust into her. 

“More, Din. I need more-”

In an instant he had slipped from her, lifting her body off of the table and settling her on the floor where she stood on her toes and bent over the table as he slipped inside her once more. 

With his hands gripping her hips and her body bent over the table, she felt him spearing his cock inside her so deeply that she couldn't barely gasp a breath. Her nails raked down the wood and she pushed her hips back to meet him thrust for thrust, her mind completely empty of any worries about her past or their future until all she could feel was Din, Din, Din…

She hasn't even realised she had been chanting his name like some prayer to lost Gods until his chest was pressed to her back and his lips brushed the shell of her ear. 

“I’m here, I’m right here.” 

His thrusts slowed and instead he moved slow and deep, his fingers slipping over where they met and deftly circling her clit as his mouth slanted over hers the second she turned her head to meet him in a kiss. 

She never wanted it to end, and from the way Din had built them up before letting them fall back until they were both slick with sweat she knew he was thinking the same. He did it again and again until the coil was wound so tight that she was certain there was no stopping her from falling over the edge and so she did, her moans high pitched and swallowed by Din’s ferocious kiss as he fell over the edge with her. 

She was so consumed by wave after wave, crash after crash of pleasure that she could barely feel the table that was digging into her hips until bruises would no doubt be forming. 

They kissed until he softened inside her and slipped out, his mess slipping down the inside of her thighs as their kissing slowed until only his forehead was resting against hers and his breath was fanning her chin. 

Her eyes fluttered closed as he kissed down her back, reaching for a cloth and cleaning her gently and taking the moment of peace to let his eyes roam her face once more. It was the same face he had seen for the first time those ten years ago, a few more lines by the side of her eyes and a few grey hairs - ones he had counted under the moonlight the night before when she had thrown her hand up and proclaimed she had at least a dozen, much to his amusement. 

They said few words as they passed each other the clothes that had been stripped before and his cheeks were still flushed pink as he lifted the helmet from the table, her chest still slick with sweat that made him want to lick across the skin visible from where her dress was still untied. 

“Din, I-” She stopped as soon as his eyes met his, her bottom lip pulling between her teeth and she jerked her chin in a nod - holding something back like she had already said too much to say even more. “Tell the kid I said hello.”

He nodded, his helmet slipping over his head with practised ease before he lifted his hand and held her cheek, his thumb stroking across the round fullness. “I will. And I will return, I swear it.”

Still no yes or no, no answer for their future that lay in the balance, but it was enough for now as he picked up his bag and began the walk back across the farm. He didn't look back until he reached the edge, finding her still at the top of the steps with her arms wrapped around her waist and her chin lifting in a wordless goodbye as he did the same for now. 

****

It had been three months since Din left, not long by any stretch when compared to some of the breaks between his visit before, but ever since his shadow had disappeared through the thick trees surrounding her land she had found herself searching for him on the horizon every morning and night. 

This morning was no different, yet as she opened her door and looked out to the tree line she felt an unease she had never felt on the sanctuary of her farm before. Her palms grew sweaty and the back of her neck prickled in awareness but at what she couldn't tell. She found herself spending the day collecting essentials from around her home - a few trinkets that caught her eye and pulled at her heart too - and had even packed them into a bag no matter how stupid she felt. 

It’s nothing, she told herself again and again and yet still she climbed onto her hands and knees and found a bag that had been tucked beneath her bed, packing it to the brim until the sun began to set. 

If for nothing else, the long walk she took to the stream after the bag had been tied up and tucked by her door was more of a distraction than a necessity since the well by her house had been filled by rain the week before. She had gone slower than usual too, finding plants and mushrooms she had pocketed with the intention to dry out when she got home, but when she made it to the edge of her farm and stopped the tune she had been humming she heard the heavy sets of footsteps rushing behind her.

Not taking a second to think, she dropped the bucket full of water to the ground and ran. 

Her feet hit the freshly farmed land harder and faster than ever before, faster than when she was a child and ran through the bare, damp land of her home planet alongside the only friend she can remember - Beron, a freckled faced boy with bright red hair who would make her laugh as he chased her through the thin lifeless forest pretending to be whatever monster their parents had told them stories of the night before. 

But she didn't feel like laughing now. It was only fear that raged through her veins as she bounded up the steps of her cottage and fled inside before slamming the door behind her. She could barely hear the men’s laughter over the blood pounding in her ears and she let her body slide down the door, crawling to the edge of her bed where Din had made her hide a blaster years ago. 

He had practised with her a few times over the years, finding old trees to use as aim, but he had refused to leave her without her having some sort of protection against any raiders who could stumble across her farm. She had argued against it at the time but had never been more glad for the cool metal that her hand curved around as she pulled it from between the mattress and wall and crawled back to the window. 

“Come out little witch,” a rough voice called out to her and a few of the other men laughed, horrible laughter that made her eyes prick with tears. 

She held the cool metal against her chest, squeezing her eyes shut as her whole body shook and she silently called out into the galaxy for Din, the name of the only person she wanted - needed - and his name roared in her mind like she could call to him wherever he was. 

****

Every time Din approached Terra, the same wave of calmness washed over him. His shoulders inched down from his ears, his brow unfurrowed, his mind stopped racing. It's like the kid knew where they were going too despite only being here twice betore; his small hands pressed against the glass and his breath fogging it up as Din began the descent over the trees. 

The kid cooed and Din huffed a laugh. 

“Yeah. She missed you, too.”

He landed his ship - one a lot smaller than the Crest that had cleared a wide circle of land for his arrival every time - flicking off every button as the engines went from roaring to silent and he patted the small pocket of his belt to check the ring of beskar one final time. 

It was never an important part of Mandalorian tradition to give jewellery as part of a promise, but he had seen the ring she wore in a necklace around her neck and she had told him how it belonged to her mother given by her father. He knew that coming back with an answer he had to prove it more than just words - he had to show her that despite needing more time before they could settle in any one place, he would be the man to give her that life. 

But the second Din landed on Terra, he knew something was wrong. With the soles of his boot on the mossy ground and his hand raised to stop Grogu from climbing down any further, he scanned around him until he could find what was wrong.

There was almost so much wrong that Din had to grip the edge of the ladder to stop himself from keeling over with nausea. The moonlight felt dull, the wind howled when it was usually quiet, the grass was a lifeless kind of green… Everything had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge and his hand reaching for his blaster as the other tucked Grogu safely into the bag already hanging from his shoulder.

The walk to the farm was one he has done more times than he could count but he had never felt like this while doing it, never gripped his blaster and took each step with such care like he did as he rounded the last line of trees. 

His heart was in his throat as he took in the scene before him. 

Raiders - twelve of them dressed in black - circling the cottage like prey waiting to pounce. Some of them held ageing blasters, others simple sticks that had been whittled down to a sharp point, three of them held burning stakes that were flickering towards the thatched roof.

“Come out little witch,” one of them  - the leader - snarled. He took one step towards the door, then another, and before Din could move he caught the glimmer of silver in the moonlight.

A blaster - his blaster that he had tucked between her mattress and wall and begged her - with her hands in his - to use if anyone caused trouble, was tucked in the corner of the window and aimed directly at the man.

“Don’t take another step,” she called back, her words steady to the ears of a stranger but laced with fear he had never heard before as someone who recalled the cadence of her voice every night before he slept.

The man took no heed, his boots crunching one more step before a red blast shot from the window and the man collapsed to a heap on the ground. Din turned as quickly as he could, setting the child behind a tree and pointing a shaking finger in his direction,

“Stay here. Don’t come out until I call for you.” 

He only waited long enough for Grogu to cower back against the tree before Din took off running towards the blasts and fire that had erupted. He watched as she defended her home to no end, fighting off brutes twice - three times - her size as they tried to take hold with one now dragging her out of the cottage. Her eyes met his across the farm in shock, widening for a second long enough to be distracted as one of the men took an off-centre shot that grazed along her hand and forearm and she hissed at the burn.

The rage that flowed through Din was like none he felt before - not when he was a helpless child and his parents were murdered, not when he was a young man with more emotion than he knew what to do with, not when Grogu was taken and he felt more panic than rage. No, these men were fighting a losing battle as Din slashed through them and up the steps - these men who were trying to hurt the person who was more his than anyone in the universe. He tucked her behind him as he fought against the ten men left after he took down the one still on her porch to defend both her and the cottage.

She took down two with steady aims he had made her practice and Din easily took down the other eight with shots from the blaster and slices of the saber, but it was too late for the cottage. He gripped her wrist and tried to pull her down the steps, away from the flames engulfing her home as she beat at his arm and shoulder with a fist until she managed to slip free and race inside.

He bellowed her name, his foot barely over the threshold before she came running back out with a back tucked under her arm and her hand over her mouth as she coughed against the smoke. His hand wrapped around hers and he dragged her to the middle of the field, no matter how hard she tried to dig her heels in and turn back again. 

By the time they reached the middle of the field - far enough away for him to deem them safe as he called out to the kid - he took her face in his hands and looked into the eyes where all life was seeming to drain from. 

“Are you hurt? Are you okay? Are-”

She waved him off, letting her bag fall to the ground and soon following it as she sat and stared on at the fire. 

She sat in the middle of the field with Din and the child watching on behind her as the home she had built burned to ash. She had nothing but the small bag beside her, one she had the unnamed urgency to pack today.  

It had some clothes, some medicine, some things that she held dear to her heart that perhaps were not the most practical weight to be adding to an already heavy bag. Everything else… She watched it burn until the sun began to rise and the smoke went with it. She watched it until the silent sobs gave way to steady to tears to the emptiness in the hollow of her chest that made her so tired there was nothing to do but collapse to the ground, letting sleep take over as Din called her name, shaking her shoulder to try and rouse her using a name he had only called her once before.

“Rion’nag.”

[writingsofestella]

vespera - ch. 0

Apostate!Din Djarin x Ex!Jedi!OC -(no use of Y/N Canon Divergent - some plot changed for sake of story, the razor crest lives )

tws // general canon violence, usage of blasters and weapons, mentions of death, minors DNI 18+ only, angst, mature content, more tags to be added later on

a/n: first chapter of the new story. posting this into the void and hoping someone likes it to read it. this story has been spiralling around in my brain for weeks now and i wanted to share it and get it out there. let me know what you all think, and i hope you like it.

wc: 2637

It was nice to see people celebrating. With all of the chaos in the galaxy, it was good to see celebrations of happiness, now and then. Children laughing and chasing each other, adults holding one another tightly, neighbors helping neighbors, excitedly talking and cheering.

The great stone water fountain in the middle of the small village hadn't been running for years. The marshal had seemingly had the only working fountain in the entire town in his home. Of course, he was a businessman first, and couldn't help but use that to his gain. Man had to make credits somehow, he claimed.

How ironic it was that after an anonymous tip, the people investigated the water lines that ran through the town, through the buildings, only to find that the pipes had been turned off and rerouted. The marshal, who had claimed to have his people's best interests at heart, had pled innocence.

It was also ironic how, overnight, he ghosted the town. By morning light, the great fountain in the center was bursting forth with fresh water from the underground spring. Other smaller fountains in the town were filled with water once again, restoring life to the dying town.

If someone were to be paying attention, they'd think it strange that all this seemingly happened within the few weeks after the stranger had arrived to their little town.

The hooded stranger paid them all no mind, as she stood in the shadow of an alleyway. She leaned against the cool stone wall, taking comfort in it.

The heat that bore down on the planet Utov from its' two suns was almost unbearable for her to handle, which might have been another reason the town's fountains were now back in order.

Maybe she just hated seeing old men in power.

It was all just coincidental, of course.

One of the townsfolk, a young mother with a kid on her hip, excitedly came up to her. She had a wide smile on her face, relief and joy evident on her once worn and tired features. "Fyra, isn't it amazing? We won't have to worry about water anymore!" 

Fyra smiled from under her scarf. "It is. What does the little one think?" She asked, looking from the mother to the child. 

"Oh, he's got all sorts of ideas in his head about who did it." The mother, who was named Siane, teased, lightly. 

The kid, a young boy no older than six, looked at Fyra with wide eyes and a toothy smile. "You did it, didn't you?" He loudly whispered. "They said it was a shadow in the night, that no one really saw who it was!" 

"Hush now! We don't want to be bothering our traveler with that." Siane lightly chastised, teasingly pinching the boy's ear.

He let out a whine in protest, squirming.

Fyra simply gave a tilt of her head, amused. "What a shadow that must've been then." She responded lightly, holding her fingers out and wiggling them playfully. 

The boy giggled, and reached his own little hand out for her to take. She squeezed his hand playfully, before letting it go. Fyra didn't miss the inquisitive look she received, however, from Siane.

"These kids and their imaginations." She sighed out, shaking her head, but there was a happy smile on her face. "We're going to Danthi's later to celebrate. Are you coming?" Siane asked, tilting her head slightly.

"I don't know. I might, might not." Fyra said, undecided yet. "You know I'm not one for large celebrations." She said.

Siane let out a snort, shaking her head. "Yeah, I can tell. You're over here sulking in the corner instead of coming out and celebrating with us."

"I'm not sulking, I'm in the shade." Fyra retorted, shaking her head.

Siane let out an exasperated sigh, and then shook her head. "Alright, alright. Well, if you wanna go, you know where we'll be at." She says, as her little boy starting squirming to be let down and go run around with the other children. "I'll see you later then." She said, and with a nod, was being dragged out to the crowd by her child.

Fyra let out a quiet huff, that smile still playing on her lips, as she shook her head. She slipped away from the main celebration, making her way down the alleyway. She might go get a drink later, maybe something refreshing since she felt parched already from the day.

As she walked around the corner, however, a sinking feeling filled her stomach, and the hairs on the back of her neck and her arms stood straight up. She held her breath as she slowed her steps.

Without warning, a vibrocord whip flew past her head and she swerved, just in time to avoid getting trapped in it.

The culprit of the vibrocord stepped around the corner as it whipped back to its owner. A Mandalorian, in worn, chipped armor, appeared in the shadows of the alleyway. The only thing new on him was his beskar helmet, which stared down at her, unrelenting. His fingers twitched over the blaster at his hip.

A bounty hunter.

All the way out here.

"That's a rude way to say hello." She found herself saying, body tense, ready to run.

"You're a hard woman to find." He spoke back, voice rough through the modulator in the helmet.

"Maybe that's the point."

He gave the slightest tilt of his head. "They told me not to bother speaking to you, just to bring you in." He spoke out, voice even, controlled. "But I'll offer you a deal. You can come with me peacefully, or, I can drag you, kicking and screaming."

"That's not much of a deal." She retorted back, her body tense with the adrenaline filling her to run once again. Her heart raced as she tried to will the Force to calm her, help her think rationally so she'd make it out of this alive.

"Murderers with a bounty of their head don't usually get deals at all." He retorted, taking a threatening, stalking step toward her.

She cursed internally. She thought she'd gotten far enough away to not have any bounty hunters follow her this far out.

She had thought wrong.

"How kind of you." She retorted, voice dry as she took a cautionary step backwards. "Too bad I'll have to decline your deal."

With a roll and a duck, she narrowly avoided the vibrocord whip that shot past her head. Without hesitation, she used that momentum to bolt forward. 

Right Into the busy marketplace. 

She didn't hesitate. Ducking and weaving in between people, she ignored the yells of profanity as she pushed through. She could hear his footsteps, heavy and powerful, chasing after her. The screams and yells of the people they pushed through.

She could only hope the people would slow him down enough for her to escape. She pushed herself further into the crowd, no longer pushing, blending in and moving with the crowd. 

Sharply, she turned into an alleyway, a small cantina set in the back. Making her way, briskly, past the couples lingering outside, she was quick to get inside. It took her a minute to blink, for her eyes to adjust, but she was still moving. She couldn't stop. Her heart raced, chest heaving, as she tried to keep the panic at bay.

The cantina wasn't busy, most crowds outside still in the marketplace, celebrating. There were a few people she knew inside, people she had helped, setting up for the party.

Her eyes landed on the bartender, who was hanging something up. 

Danthi, with her greying hair pulled back into a tight bun and a towel over her shoulder, immediately shot up to look at her. Her hazel eyes locked onto her.

Frya pulled down the cloth over her face. "Danthi-" She sucked in a panicked breath. 

"Oh Fyra! What's got you so panicked, you look like you've seen a ghost!" She immediately gushed out, coming down off of the ladder to her side.

"There's a Mandalorian after me." She said, trying to reign in her fear. "I don't know how he found me but-"

Danthi gently grasped her arms, standing in front of her. "Calm down, breathe." She said, voice soothing. She started to lead her behind the bar. "Hey, you two!" She yelled at the two sitting near the door. "Whoever distracts the Mandalorian gets free drinks for the next month." She barked out.

The two aliens grinned. Downed their drinks. They cracked their necks, then walked outside, casually, as if not going up to face a Mandalorian bounty hunter. 

Danthi turned back to her. "We knew this would eventually happen, right?" She said, continuing to lead her around the bar. Pushing open the half door, she led her in. 

"Yes, but I didn't think it'd happen so soon- I just came back here not that long ago." She breathed out, adrenaline pumping through her veins.

"There's a trapdoor leading to underground tunnels. Follow it, straight, 'till it dead-ends. You'll find a transport droid that'll take you to a port." She ducked under the bar, grabbing a canvas bag, giving it to her. "Take this and run." 

Fyra was overwhelmed with emotion, with information. She tried to control it, letting the Force in to try and let it wash over her again. "But what if he comes in here?" 

She gave a shrug, a grin growing on her face. "I'm not scared of any man, let alone a Mandalorian." She tucked Fyra's scarf better atop her head. "You need to go. Let this be your payment for helping us." She said. "Let us help you, just this once." 

"Danthi-" 

She pulled Fyra into a tight, quick hug, before pulling back. She pulled out the key from under the collar of her shirt, unlocking the trapdoor.

It looked dark, dimly lit. Like a dungeon or a tomb for the dead, dust and dirt spewing out down below.

Looking back up to Danthi, she gave one more look. "Thank you." She breathed out. 

"Go. May the Force be with you." She smiled, giving one last squeeze of Fyra's arms. 

They could hear yelling outside. An argument. She could sense the rising danger just outside the cantina doors.

"Come on, Mando! Don't you ever take a day off and drink?!" 

"You think there's a living bein' under that armor or do you think he is the armor?"

The two women locked eyes again, and Danthi all but pushed her down the trapdoor. 

She landed on her feet, half stumbling, with a cloud of dust, dirt, and sand shooting up around her. Jerking her head back up, she got one last look at Danthi's confident, grinning face, before it was sealed back up.

And she was left in complete darkness.

Swallowing thickly, she took in a steadying breath. Letting it out, she reached to her side for the silver-hilted weapon she kept at her side. Her fingers ran over the worn but familiar buttons, but she did not ignite it. Instead, she reached for the flashlight she kept on her belt.

Yellow flickering light ignited in the tunnel as the flashlight came to life. It casted shadows against the walls, down the endless tunnels. Little creatures of the darkness slithered back into it, hissing and clicking noises following as they disappeared back into their darkness.

Ignoring the shiver that ran up her spine, she slid her scarf back over her face. She started walking down the tunnel, heading straight and true as Danthi told her. She tried to keep her memories in check. She was not being left behind in a tomb. She was not being abandoned by her Master. 

There was, however, someone hunting her down once more.

She could sense danger up above her and she had no doubt that it was the Mandalorian. Quickening her steps, she continued down the tunnel, trying to keep herself calm and grounded. She had to keep moving, had to keep going. 

Reaching the end of the tunnel, she heard a noise that made her heart drop to her stomach. It was the sound of flame, and then, metal melting. 

She turned off the light, sliding it back onto her holster, swift. Jumping up onto the ladder, she could hear the metal trapdoor being melted, falling away and crashing to the ground. She pushed away any and all thoughts about Danti being hurt. She couldn't. She couldn't let herself slow or let Danthi's efforts go in vain to get her out safe.

She was fine. She had to be.

Rapidly, she climbed up the ladder, using her shoulder to try and open it. "Dank ferrik!" She hissed out when it didn't budge. With a lift of her hand, she swiped it across the lock. 

A click resounded and it flung open. 

She pulled herself up and out, finding herself in another alleyway, on the outskirts of town. Heaving for air as she pulled herself up, she saw the transport droids with the sandships, hovering and waiting. 

Shoving the trapdoor back, with a loud, resounding SLAM and another flick of her wrist, it locked behind her, sealing it shut. She bolted toward the ship, not caring if anyone was out to see her frantic movements. 

She slid to a stop in front of the sandship, wide eyes, heaving chest, looking at the R2 droid in the ship.

"I need to get to the port. Now." She commanded.

It beeped in response. A question of where she wanted to go.

"Doesn't matter. Closest one. One that can get me off-planet." She retorted, hopping into the sandship, tying the bag Danthi had given her around her back and under her shoulder. 

Within seconds, she was taking off, zooming across the dry, hot desert. She felt the blaster before she heard it, the heat flying past her ear.

She gasped, ducking down immediately, head shooting back to look behind them. 

The Mandalorian had made it out, standing with a blaster in hand. A shiver raced down her spine as their gazes locked. 

He fired again, and she did not hesitate to use the Force to project an invisible shield around them. 

The droid screamed in fear and the ship dipped to the side, swerving. She slammed into the side of the ship with a forceful exhale.

She sucked in a fast breath, pain in her ribs. "It's alright!" She yelled to the little droid, breathless from the impact. "I got you, keep going!" 

The droid sped along, and she used the Force to protect them from any other blaster shots, seemingly redirecting them as they flew past them.

The Mandalorian's form, shining and reflecting the dying suns' light, stared her down, slowly lowering the blaster as he grew smaller and smaller behind her. 

She knew, without a doubt, he was not giving up. Mandalorians, as they were, never gave up, never stopped, until they were dying. This would not be the last time she saw him. She only hoped she was far enough way when she did that she could escape him again.

With the rising stars and moon above, she could only hope to the Force that she'd have the strength to keep one step ahead. That the universe would guide her where she needed to go.

As he disappeared with the town growing steadily smaller and smaller, she let the town, and its' people, go from her heart. She would hold their kindness in her chest, but she knew she probably would never be able to come back again.

The life of a Jedi in this galaxy would never be safe.

all writing is my own. please do not redistribute, repost, or share on other platforms. thank you

[azurethevampire]

MLtP: I Would Do It Again

A/N: Long time no see! :D As it’s been a while since I wrote anything more than school assignments and job applications, the characters might seem slightly off. Hopefully I didn’t mix up anything since it’s also been a while since I watched either the Mandalorian or the Book of Boba Fett. 

I’d like to add that this is just one possible way things could have gone in my Mando’s Lessons to Parenting verse since I’m not exactly sure yet if Eva - or in this case the reader - will stay with Din after the ending of s2 or if there’s something else in store for her.  

Words: 809

Summary: When you ask if Din Djarin is mad at you and little Grogu for something that he alone made the decision about, the Mandalorian is faced with a difficult question. If given the chance, would he do it a different way? 

Set around Chapter 5 (ep 5) of the Book of Boba Fett

 °•-•-•-•-•-•°

 °•-•-•-•-•-•°

“Are you angry with me and Grogu?” 

The question, spoken softly so that you wouldn't wake up the mother and her child sleeping on the next row of seats in front of you, alerted Din Djarin that you weren't sleeping like he had thought.

Behind his helmet, Din Djarin was frowning. Turning his attention to you, he tilted his helmet-covered head slightly. 

"Angry about what, kid?" He asked, puzzled. 

You kept your gaze on your lap where your fingers had picked up the hem of your new tunic to pull at any loose threads (or any threads you could pick loose with your nails) from the fabric. You would ruin the tunic's hem if you continued doing that. Din had lost count of how many times he had told you to stop picking holes on your clothes.

He gently grabbed your hand to stop you. You wrapped both your hands over Din's leather-covered one. 

"I heard what the Armorer said to you", you confessed after a moment of silence, making Din's heart pick up pace a little. He had thought you had been sleeping in the other room at the time. Had you seen him battling with Paz Vizsla, almost losing the Darksaber in the process? Your next words made something inside him crash into a hurting wall. "It's our fault. You wouldn't have taken your helmet off if it wasn't for me and Grogu. And now you were kicked out of your Tribe because of us. She said that you are a Mandalorian no more and that's our fault…"

Din's first instinct was to correct you that no it wasn't your and Grogu's fault. But then a thought came to him. It was partly true, what you were saying. Without you and the kid, he probably wouldn't be in this situation now. He wouldn't have been kicked out of the Tribe. Instead he would still be doing bounty jobs all over the galaxy, and drowning himself to work  job after job, trying to get rid of even some of that feeling of loneliness that had sat inside him so long. That is, if he wouldn't be dead already by a job gone wrong. 

He hadn't felt that loneliness for many months. Because of his foundlings. Almost naturally the three of you had formed a clan of three and as Din had grown to care about you and Grogu— had begun to think about you two being his children— the part of him that had felt missing for longer than he cared to remember, was filled.

Knowing what he knew now, would he take his helmet off in front of Bo-Katan and her crew, Skywalker, you and Grogu if he would have a chance to go back in time to that moment? Or before that, back on Morak?

The answer was clear. Yes, he would. Because he did what he did for his kids. And he would do it again even knowing the consequences. He had known he was breaking rules, and he had done it anyway. 

"It's not your fault, Y/N. Or Grogu's", Din said, twisting his upper body slightly to better face you. Your head was still tilted down, eyes cast on your joined hands. Din's free hand rose to your chin, gently tipping your head upwards so that he could see your eyes. 

"Look at me, kid", Din's voice was soft. The tone one that you had never heard him use towards anyone but you and Grogu. "I alone am responsible for my actions." 

As Din continued, a bang of sadness and longing made itself known to him, but it was replaced soon with an even more powerful feeling of rightness. The words he spoke were true. "The Armorer and the rest of them can keep their Tribe. If I have to choose between you children and them, you will always be my first choice. I might not be a part of the Tribe anymore but I'm still a Mandalorian." He leaned forward until his helmet touched your forehead, his hand now moving to rest on the back of your head in a comforting gesture. "I would do it again." 

"You would?" you asked, voice quiet and surprised, and Mando could see tears shining in your eyes. 

Din squeezed the back of your neck gently before pulling you to rest against his side, head tucked under his helmet. "Yes, kiddo." 

There was a silence, and for a moment Din thought you had fallen asleep. But then your quiet voice broke the silence. "So, you're really not angry with us? With me?" 

"No. Not about that", Din reassured. "But I'm starting to get irritated by the fact you haven't been sleeping when you were supposed to." 

"I'm sorry." And Mando could tell you meant the apology. 

"Get some sleep, kid. I'll wake you when we land." 

[galactic-star-bruiser]

Bounty (Din x F!reader smut)

SMUTTY ONE SHOT 18+ Minors DNI! Please!

Din x f!reader

Warnings: rough din, a plot if you squint hard enough, unprotected sex... its just pure smut idk what else to tell ya, but it does get sweet at the end w a lil aftercare

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I laid there in the street, propped up my my elbows.

Moonlight illuminating only the beskar clad man that towered over me. 

“I can take you in warm, or I can take you in cold” he growled behind his helmet, hand clenched around the blaster in his holster. 

“Haven’t we already played this little game before, Mando” I smirked. 

We had. He’d been hunting me for a few days at least and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious as to what it’d be like to be caught by him. He cornered me earlier in a bar but I got away from him...somehow. Maybe he let me. Maybe he liked the chase.

He sighed and reached down, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and lifting me so that I was eye level with him. 

“No more games.”

With that I was put over his shoulder and my hands were shackled along with a piece of fabric shoved into my mouth to keep me quiet. 

At least I was getting one half of what I imagined a night with him would be like.

He walked with me on his shoulder all the way back to his ship, hand never leaving my ass to keep me still. He could’ve picked my legs to hold onto...but I wasn’t complaining. 

I was thrown with a little more force than expected, earning a grunt through my gag. 

He dragged my by my shackles, then he stopped and crouched down to my eye level.

“You’ve been a very bad girl. I think I’d like to teach you a lesson before putting you in the hands of another man.”

Fuck

His gloved hand was gentle on my face, causing a moan to escape from me. For that, I had earned a light slap. 

“No noise.”

I nodded in compliance and he lifted me once more, throwing me onto the small cot-like bed in the back of the ship.

I sat myself up, back against the headboard, and I couldn’t help but stare at him. Something about his armor turned me on more than anything and I could feel heat pool between my legs. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” He asked, cocking his head to the side with one knee now on the bed. 

I smirked as much as the gag allowed and shook my head ‘No’.

He chuckled, low, and it rumbled through his body, “What a fucking tease.”

Within seconds he flipped me onto all fours, ass in the air.

His fingers traced the area of my pussy through my tight, thin, pants.

I couldn’t help but moan and whimper, earning a hard smack to my ass.

That mark would be there in the morning

I heard a piece of armor fall to the ground and the seductive way he slowly undid his zipper. 

I’d fucking kill to see his cock right now

He rubbed his rock solid self across where he had just been touching, “already so wet for me, huh? You’ve probably dreamt of this before didn’t you, you little slut?”

I could only respond by moving my ass closer to him, trying to feel every inch of him. 

He tutted, mockingly, “So desperate for me.”

With those words he tore the fabric of my pants just enough to get access to what he wanted. 

A low moan and a genuine tone replaced his arrogant one, “what a pretty fucking pussy for me” he whispered mainly to himself. 

His rough gloved thumb found my clit, then dipped into my heat. 

I tried my best to be quiet for him, and whimpered with pleasure. 

With his other hand he grabbed my throat and pulled me up so that my back was on his chest, “Its okay, baby. I wanna hear how good I make you feel now. No one could fuck you better than me, isn’t that right?”

He removed the fabric in my mouth and I nodded yes, all the air in my body felt as though it had been punched out of me. 

His grip tightened and his fingers inside of me quickened their pace, “I didn’t fucking hear you. Answer me when I ask you a question.”

I yelped, “Fuck...yes...I’m sorry.. fuck... no one could fuck me better than you.”

“Thats what I thought.”

He let me fall back, face first to the bed, only able to catch myself with my elbows, wrists still cuffed together. 

“Please” was all I could whimper, leaning further into his fingers, the gloves making them feel even bigger than they looked. 

“If you like my hands baby, then you’re gonna fucking love whats between my thighs.”

something in that arrogant tone made me want to rip off every piece of fabric that kept his skin from touching mine

“Fuck me... please, fuck me.”

“Well since you asked so sweetly.”

Without warning he was splitting me in half and didn’t give me even a second to adjust. 

He was bigger and longer than I could’ve imagined, or ever had inside of me. 

I screamed, burying my head in his pillows. 

“Thats my good girl. Fucking take it.”

He pace never faltered, even when he slid completely out of me only to slam back in. 

The sounds of my ass slapping against his armored thighs sent my body into overdrive and I couldn’t control the embarrassing noises that slipped their way past my gritted teeth. 

I groaned when he left me, my pussy clenching around nothing, missing the way he completely and utterly filled me. 

He flipped me onto my back, sat back on his haunches, and lifted me onto his lap. My shackled hands were slipped over his helmet, and my arms had no other choice but to be wrapped around his neck. 

“Oh, cyar'ika, those noises you make... don’t fucking stop.”

He got his wish once his cock found my opening once more and he used his hands to lift me up and crash me back down onto him.

I could feel my wetness on his armor, my thighs resting on his own as I sat on his lap, completely surrendering to pleasure.

The position and the heat coming off of his own body made my head spin, and he hit something in me that I didn’t even know existed. 

“Fuck...fuck I’m going to cum.” I moaned, now starting to roll my hips as he moved me along his shaft.

“Be a good girl and cum on my dick, I want to feel you.”

That was all I needed, now shuddering and seeing stars.

But he wasn’t done. 

“On your knees, precious.”

I complied instantly and he moved me to the floor to face him as he sat on the edge of his bed. 

I opened my mouth and let the drool run down from my tongue. I was still shaking, he didn't even give me time to come down from the high he just gave me.

He didn’t just want my mouth to suck him off, that was evident enough by the way he held my head in place and fucked my throat.  

The spit and gagging didn’t stop him and I felt him began to twitch and tighten in me, my tongue dragging across him as he grunted.

He pulled out quickly, painting my face with a satisfied groan of pleasure. 

Multiple ropes of hot cum found their way across my mouth and cheeks, and I closed my eyes, humming with content. 

I opened them once more and watched the last of it leak from his swollen tip. 

“So pretty with me all over you face.”

He wiped my face with the fabric that was still wet from being stuffed in my mouth earlier. 

The Mandalorian put his elbows on his thighs and leaned closer to my face as I sat, still on my knees.

“I might just keep you. Who knew you were such a good fuck?” He said, still raspy from the moans.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you Mando?” I teased. 

He just hummed, agreeing, but too cocky to answer me in earnest. 

He undid the shackles on my wrist and I soothed them by rubbing my hands over them. 

When I tried to stand, my knees buckled and my legs were still shaking from pleasure. 

He caught me by my waist and moved me to the bed. 

It smelled like him and I was beginning to feel more than just the pure animalistic sexual attraction to him. 

He pulled me onto his chest, now laying next to me and patting my hair.

I liked his soft side. 

[dindjarinandlysakane]

The Sweetest Taste | Chapter 7 - Trouble?

Din Djarin is happy on Nevarro. He has a home, a family, what more could he want? But when a woman turns up selling bread and cakes at his doorstep, how can he not fall in love? And how can he also stop her from getting hurt at the hands of her partner behind closed doors? Will the hero save the girl and get the girl? Warm and sweet fluff/romance/hurt/comfort fic.

Masterlist

Chapter 7 - Trouble?

----

“Do you know someone by the name of Crix Val’shif?”

Din was stood inside the Chief Magistrate of Nevarro’s chambers.

He had come straight here since his run-in with the thug known as Crix on Lysa Kane’s doorstep, and he was still seething.

Grogu was happily sat on Karga’s tabletop helping himself to handfuls of poit-nuts, watching as his father paced nearby.

Greef Karga, who was sitting on a grand, high-backed chair in the centre of his large and imposing desk, cocked an eyebrow up towards Din.

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” he replied. “Why? Trouble?”

Din gave a huff, stopping in his tracks.

“I’ve just got a bad feeling about him,” he said in a low voice.

Karga was silent for a moment, eyeing Din.

“Anything to do with the lady I saw you escorting to the Bazaar earlier?” the Chief Magistrate said in an interested tone. At this, Grogu also gave a chirp.

But Din merely shot him a look, causing Karga to raise both hands either side of his head in defeat.

“Alright, alright,” Karga muttered, before lowering them and tapping away at his holographic datapad. “If you think this guy is bad news then I’ll trust your instincts.”

Din moved over to the desk and watched as Karga searched Crix’s name in the extensive database.

Grogu who had eaten his way through half a bowl of nuts, waddled over to Din, reaching for him.

His father of course obliged, lifting his son beneath his tiny arms and settling him against his chest with one gloved hand.

“Hmmm,” murmured Karga after a long moment or two.

“Anything?” Asked Din quickly. But Karga shook his head.

“Couple of bar fights but that’s it,” he said with a sigh. “Nothing notable.”

Din gritted his teeth together.

There had to be something on this guy.

“Want me to ask around?” Asked Karga. “See what I can find out?”

The masked Mandalorian gave a nod. 

“Thank you.”

…….

Five long days had passed since the incident on Lysa’s doorstep. And the Mandalorian had been on edge ever since.

Crix’ threats had meant very little to him, but the thuggish man’s foul attitude had not gone unnoticed. And neither had the bruise that marked Lysa’s, otherwise smooth, skin.

Din was almost certain he knew where that bruise had come from, but without any proof to back up his hunch, what could he do? Lysa had made it clear to Din that she hadn’t wanted him to intervene or interfere. And as much as Din wanted to rip Crix limb from limb for speaking to her the way he had, the Mandalorian had agreed so far to abide by her request.

But as the days had drifted by, Din had begun to grow concerned.

Lysa had promised a weekly delivery to his and Grogu’s cabin, but now it had been nine days since her last arrival here on her landspeeder.

Din had even put off going to chase after another bounty hunter job, in case he missed her.

But for her to not even turn up?

Din, who had been sat at the scrubbed wooden inside his small cabin cleaning a couple of spare engine parts from his Starfighter with a greasy rag, had been staring into space for at least a minute.

A deep frown line was pressed between his brows, obscured behind his beskar helmet.

Would he be an idiot for going to Lysa’s place just to check if things were ok?

Din knew he liked her…as a friend of course, that was all it was. But nevertheless, he could still be concerned about the welfare of a friend, couldn't he?

Din’s attention was drawn suddenly by Grogu hopping up onto his lap.

The Mandalorian shook himself quickly from his stupor.

“Hey buddy, you wanna head into the city with me?”

Grogu chirped, cocking his head to one side in interest.

“I wanna chase up our missing delivery,” Din explained, letting out a heavy sigh.

----------

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

[larkoneironaut]

Working on the POV banners for my Din Djarin romance fic! I will post the art in the middle of each banner when it’s finished, they deserve the attention - and when I finish writing (currently at ch. 17 of ~30) I will post the full banners with the fic 🖤

Wish I had Elikai's wavy hair, ngl 😩

[prolix-yuy]

Bloom

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: Mando offers a lesson in restraint. And blasters.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, grinding, descriptions of male and female bodies, allusions to sexual acts, female masturbation, descriptions of PiV sex, we’re fantasizing about one (1) sexy space dad in this house. 

Notes: Don’t we all just love some weapons training? Someone explain to me why it is so attractive when Mando does it, because I have never found it sexy in real life. I’m also dedicating this installment to my Star Wars sister @amywritesthings because we just keep yelling at each other about how much this trope worms into our brains and I feel like she’s owed this as a treat.

Takes place directly after A Sweet Response to Tragedy. Like literally the next day. 

Cross-posted on AO3

I Think of You Series Masterlist

The blaster in your hand is warm, sweaty along the grip and sticking to your palm. Your wrists are tired, your trigger finger stiff, but you raise the barrel to aim again before firing a bolt.

Zzzst!

“Miss,” Mando says, and you sigh comically, dropping the blaster from its durasteel target and tilting your head up to the sky.

“I don’t think this is a ‘practice makes perfect’ situation, Mando,” you huff, looking over at him. He’s sitting on a fallen tree, one elbow on his knee as the child stomps around in the dirt.

Earlier you’d been distracted by a, “Hey, kid, no-'' and caught Mando pulling a fat earthworm out of the child’s hands. The scowl of displeasure on the child’s face preceded one of the funniest things you’d ever seen the pair do. The child lifted his hand and squinted, met with a shake of the helmet, but much to your surprise he managed to get the worm back from Mando, plunging it right into his mouth. You’re not sure how, seeing him smacking his lips with pride, and it obviously baffled Mando too. He slapped his thighs and made a noise that sounded like a confused massiff, which made you double over laughing long enough that he threatened to leave you behind.

Now his posture is more languid, twirling a piece of grass between his fingers and watching the child searching for more snacks.

“Am I performing this feat for no one?” you ask, waving the blaster wildly. That gets Mando’s attention.

“Kriff…don’t do that,” he straightens up, looking like he’s going to give you another talking-to about blaster safety.

(not like you’re already so cautious you almost threw up the first time you touched it)

True to his word after that one evening on the Crest, Mando opened up the artillery cabinet and brought out a small blaster pistol, approaching you like a skittish loth-cat. The weight of yesterday’s market trip was still on your mind, but you’d coached yourself to breathe through the twinges of rejection you felt.

(not right now, but not forever)

The Crest was still parked on the dense forest planet, Mando waiting on a part to upgrade the cabin climate system. He’d stood in front of you, the blaster looking tiny nestled into the folds of his gloves, as you stared at it with the same pit in your stomach as before.

“Would you like to try again?” he asked. His posture was open, not pushing, offering a part of himself up to you.

(you knew you had to take it)

“Okay,” you sighed, gathering up the child from the cot and settling him in the crook of your arm. “Be warned, it’s not going to go much better than last time.”

Mando sidled up to you, his helmet tilting as he pressed a button to lower the ramp.

“I don’t have any complaints about last time,” he murmured, and you were hit with a blast of heat to your face as you remembered what exactly “last time” entailed.

(you straddling his lap, his hand on your face, rolling to pin you beneath him, hands clasped above your head)

(dampened by echoes of his words - I don’t know how to give you this)

“Cheeky,” you threw back, trying to calm yourself as the ramp lowered. “Are we at least far away from anything I could possibly hit?”

“We will be,” Mando replied, coming to stand beside you as the ramp lowered. Sunlight cut through the seal of the ship, painting you golden as it drifted down your body. You felt Mando’s hand skim past your elbow, turning your head to look at him. The light gilded his beskar, the shine almost too bright for you so you squinted against it. The child cooed and you tossed your head at Mando.

“Check out you dad, Bean, he’s so shiny he could be used as a spaceport beacon,” you joked. The child turned his head and smiled at Mando, who then watched you both for a long moment even though the ramp had long since touched earth. His hand came up to cup the child’s cheek as he squinted against the glove. The visor lingered on the child, then turned to you. It was often impassive, but the ghost of his touch told you what emotions were running through him.

(fondness)

(conflict)

“Let’s go,” he said, stepping back from you both a little quick, as if he’d caught himself in a thought he shouldn’t be having. You followed him down the ramp, bouncing the child a little to watch his big ears flap.

“Alright Bean, I’m sure you’ll find this entertaining.”

It hadn’t gone nearly as bad as the first time. Mando was quieter with you, slower and more cautious. The blaster was loaded this time, but a much smaller and less powerful model than the one he keeps on his hip. It fit easier in your hand and you were getting the hang of aiming, the noise of the bolts still a little too loud for your nerves.

You’ll admit you let the frustration that permeated the first blaster training taint the beginning of this one. After struggling to aim the pistol yet again, a few exasperated huffs from Mando egging you on, you finally spun around to face him.

“How old were you the first time someone held a weapon at you?”

He took a half step back, stunned at the outburst. You were gritting your teeth, angry at the world for making you have to learn this and taking it out on the only person who was trying to help. It curled shame in your stomach, that you said those words to him, and it only soured you more when he answered.

“A child.”

You both stood and stared at each other, letting the outburst blur the edges of your vision. You nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Me too.”

Mando nodded back, and you scrubbed a hand over your mouth, rolling your shoulders.

“I’m sorry. I’m just…upset that I’m upset. I know I shouldn’t be, and I’m angry that I haven’t unlearned it yet.” It was a mouthful of words but the truth, and somehow saying it out loud makes the monster so much smaller. Mando didn’t say anything, but he came closer to you and put his hand on your shoulder. You leaned into his touch as you watched the toes of his boots come to rest by yours. The understanding that you both were children of violence (probably very different kinds of violence) made the lesson less like a teacher to a student and more like allies.

The shooting space Mando chose was a small clearing within a tightly wooded forest, the canopy of trees letting the light dapple in. The dirt and dead leaves on the ground crunch and shuffle pleasantly underfoot, and the air holds the pleasant smell of forest rot that ushers in rebirth. You think after this practice it would be nice to lie down and watch the branches shift in the breeze, the kid climbing over you, Mando sitting quietly nearby.

(If only you could hit the kriffing target.)

You’d been at it for over an hour, changing your stance, which eye you used to aim, holding the blaster at a variety of angles while Mando called out encouragement from several feet away. Your frustration is back to boiling over, and Mando can surely feel it coming off you in waves. He leaves the kid hunting under rocks to come by your side, looking out at the makeshift target field he put together with a few pieces of durasteel scrap.

“Don’t you dare say anything snarky,” you warn him, overly nervous at this perfect marksman, deadly hunter surveying the scene. You’ve left some scorch marks on the landscape, but nothing of significance on the actual targets. Letting the blaster hang at your side, you pointedly don’t look at Mando.

(told you this was a lost cause)

“Okay, show me,” he says, and you go through the motions of getting into position, lifting the blaster, lining up the shot, until he steps so close behind you it almost makes you misfire.

“Hold,” he says, his voice close to your ear. You keep the blaster aimed as he leans over your shoulder. His chest is pressed lightly against your back, and in an exciting development he extends his arm along the length of yours, fingers coming to rest on your hand. He doesn’t have to lengthen his arm, could have taken a half step back and reached just fine, but the way he’s curling himself around you, molding his practiced form around your inexperienced one, is easing some of the tension from you.

(and growing another kind of tension)

“Fire,” he says, and you tug gently on the trigger. The bolt flies wide even though you swear you have the target in your sights. Mando hums and wraps his hand around yours.

“You’re losing form right when you pull the trigger. Try to keep the position for a second longer.” He stiffens his arm, the other hand coming to your hip to offer a grounding weight. “Again.”

You squeeze off another round and it’s closer now. Your mouth drops open.

“Kriff, that’s an actual improvement.” The surprise in your voice reverberates a chuckle from Mando’s chest into your spine, and you have to fight not to push back against him.

“Still a little loose at the end,” he says, (you have no idea Mando) shuffling closer to you to press the length of his body up yours.

(Kriffing Maker, you’re not going to be able to concentrate like this)

You swallow hard and line up the target, beskar surrounding you as if you were the true Mandalorian, and you fire a shot.

Ping!

You’re stunned for a moment before the wonder bubbles up.

“I hit it.” A nervous laugh barks out of your chest. “Maker, I actually hit something.” You leaned back into Mando’s chest and the hand on your hip snakes across your stomach. Your elation ramps up a dizzying amount as he pulls you into him, his hand pushing the blaster down to your side as he lets you lean back. The helmet brushes against your hair as you hear his own soft chuckle.

“That you did. How are you feeling?”

You ponder the sensation running through you. Excitement at completing a task. A low-level of dread at the idea of having a person in your sights.

“Conflicted,” is the best you can come up with.

“That’s appropriate,” Mando says, and you think you’d be able to concentrate better if you couldn't feel how warm and solid he is behind you.

(Maker-damned sexy mountain)

As if he heard your thoughts, the hand around your waist slides back, the gloves tracing along the fabric of your waistband. The middle finger takes an extra moment to circle the button of your pants before resting back on your hip, and with a step back you’re left without his reassuring pressure against you.

“Again, no cheating this time.” You throw a dirty look over your shoulder.

“Not cheating, learning,” you throw back, but the strength of those words is weakened by seeing him stand with his hip cocked, hand on his belt with his helmet tipped far to one side.

(he knows he looks good like that)

“Then show me what you’ve learned,” he drawls out and you roll your eyes, turning back to the makeshift targets.

(hold a second longer than you think)

You will your muscles to commit this to memory, the same as everything else done in defense of your life, as you lift and fire the blaster again.

Ping!

You shouldn’t be enjoying this but you’re feeling accomplished, and a little more confident. You’re not hitting bullseyes, nor are you wildly accurate, but you’re hitting a target the size of a man and that’s good enough for you.

(you should never need to learn more)

You shift to another target, taking the breath, firming your stance before firing.

Ping!

(is Mando closer to you?)

You swivel on your heels, trying to add speed to your arsenal.

Zzzst!

You tut to yourself, not used to firing while moving, but you re-center and try again.

Ping!

It’s close to the edge but still a hit. You lower the pistol and start turning towards Mando but he’s on you with the silent stalk of his profession.

You stifle a gasp as Mando pulls you tight against his hips, feeling the thick length of his cock press against your ass. Both hands fly to your waistband, deftly unbuttoning them. You have a moment to recognize his right hand is bare before he’s sliding it into your pants, cupping you over your underwear.

“Kneel,” he growls behind you and you drop, his body following you fluidly. He’s got you caged in between his legs, wrapping his arm around you to pull you back against him. His fingers stroke against your clothed cunt, pressing lightly to tease at your clit.

“Fuck, Mando,” you gasp, hearing his wrecked breaths behind you. “Did that…turn you on?”

“Can’t you tell, Mesh’la?” he teases, his voice deep and raked over gravel. His hips roll against your ass, the helmet resting against your shoulder. “Makes me want to fuck you here in the dirt, take your pretty little cunt, looking so beautiful, kotyc, Mesh'la…” Mando loses his train of thought as he searches for your breast under your shirt, dragging his thumb over your nipple to harden under his touch. You haven’t had Mando’s hands on you in ten years. Not like this, not hot and possessive. It’s just as intoxicating as the first time.

“M-mando, the kid…” you gasp, wrenching your head back over your shoulder.

“Kid’s too busy looking for bugs,” he groans, “Need to feel you.”

(well that’s a pair of underwear wrecked)

He pushes against your back and you can’t help but fall forward on your hands and knees, fingers digging into the leaves and silt of the forest floor. Mando folds over you, hand coming down into the dirt beside yours and draping his body over you. The cape flutters over your silhouettes, and if anyone stumbled upon this glen it would look like the Mandalorian was searching for his dropped reading glasses.

He’s not, of course, he’s backing his hand up to slide his fingers into your underwear, maneuvering you back into his folded hips so you can feel his achingly hard length. He’s palming you, not sunken into your core yet but dangerously close. Your arousal must be slicking his palm, those thick talented fingers so close to where you need him. You close your eyes, the bliss of being enveloped by him fighting against how dangerous this could be.

(anyone could find you here)

But he’s so close and breathing so quickly next to you, it makes your head spin. You look down at your hands, planted in the dirt side by side, and you slide your fingers over his gloved ones. There’s debris and bits of grit between you, but to touch him even if it wasn’t ideal was the constant in your life.

“Kriff, do you think you can take me if I put it in right now?” He says, voice dark and chocolatey smearing across your shoulders. You gasp at the image; Mando ripping down your pants and filling you, just the wetness of your arousal guiding him in. You whine, knowing how he’ll stretch you, the burn of his cock with no foreplay, and you grind back against him.

(Want it want it want it)

(Maker you can't and you hate that you know it)

“Mando, fuck, we can’t, not right here with…”

Mando lifts up on his knees, tearing his hand from your pants (no wait come back) and wrapping both around your hips, gasping in a few deep lungfuls of breath.

“Dank farrik, you’re…Kriff, I’m sorry, I know,” he stumbles over his words, hands rubbing frantic circles on your hips. You huff out a laugh and look over your shoulder at him. The sunlight flecks him in gold, his chest rising and falling as he tips the helmet down from the canopy back to your face.

“Mesh’la, you don’t know what you do to me.”

You stifle a moan at his hazy confession, but your eyes search for the child.

(where is…where is the child?)

“Mando, I don’t see him,” you stutter.

“What?” he slurs out, voice sounding drunk on the heady feeling of arousal.

“Where’s the kid?” you say more forcefully, and the edge of fear in your voice seems to snap Mando to attention. He pulls you up to standing with him, the casual strength of it making you dizzy.

“Kid?” he calls out, tearing himself from you and leaving you standing with a rucked-up shirt and open pants in the forest. You could care less though, because you’re also calling out for the little green gremlin.

“Bean? Where’d you go?” you shout, buttoning yourself up and trying not to sound too scared.

It takes three heart-pounding minutes before Mando thinks to look into the hollow at the end of the log he was sitting on. The child raises his hands and chirps in the universal sign of “found me!” You slump down in the dirt as Mando fishes the kid out.

“I just taught him hide and seek,” you groan, a hand against your forehead as you will your heart to stop pounding. Stealing a glance at Mando you see him shaking his head, but in the exasperated way that makes you think he’s smiling under the beskar.

“Lesson’s over, time to head back,” he says, and your heart drops but also thumps heavily.

(what just happened there?)

You don’t say anything as you walk back to the Crest, watching Mando out of the corner of your eye. He’s stiffer now (maybe still a little stiff from your activities) and you can feel awkwardness wafting off him like heat from a turbine.

(hope he doesn’t regret it)

Back on the Crest, Mando puts the blaster back in the armory, locking it up. You open some ration packs for dinner, eyes lingering on the fresher foods you’d obtained, but you’re feeling too sapped of energy to try cooking.

(another day)

Eating in silence, Mando is still antsier than you expected. It’s not like you hadn’t had his fingers (amongst other things) between your legs before. And the words whispered in the cockpit not a day earlier made you think he wanted you.

(at least as a lover if not something more)

Maybe this was a step too far for him, a desire he wasn’t prepared to indulge. Maybe he was embarrassed that a Mandalorian should feel a need this heavy.

You hoped not.

After the soreness of the day, your new bed is a welcome respite. The child is still riled up from the earlier excitement, but after several minutes of chattering and playing with the silver ball he still adores above all else, you see him start to fade. You know you should put him in his hammock but you’re warm and settled into your bed, and the child has plenty of room. You decide to let him crash with you for the night, but just as your eyelids pull with sleep Mando’s knuckles rap quietly on the wall.

“He’s almost out,” you whisper, and Mando pulls back your curtain partition. The helmet tilts down at the child curled on his side, his ear pillowed under his head and hands holding the ball tightly in sleep. For a little rabble rouser who always keeps you on your toes, he can sure tug at your heartstrings.

“I’ll put him up,” Mando whispers, gathering the sleeping body so carefully. It always touches you to see such a large, imposing man handle the small being with such care. He tucks him into the crook of his elbow with a long look at his face.

“He’s pretty cute when he’s not giving us heart attacks,” you say, and you almost choke on the us that comes so quickly to your lips.

(are we an us?)

Mando turns his head back to you, and the visor draws slashes of heat across your bare shoulders.

“I’m sorry…for today. I got carried away. I didn’t mean to…take it so far.” The confession furrows your brow.

“How far did you mean to take it?” you ask, and you’re surprised at the sultry tone you hear. Mando seems to be too, as his hand grips the partition cloth tighter.

“I…I’m not…I wasn’t…” he says, and you raise an eyebrow at him with a sleepy smirk.

“I thought we’d gotten to the point where we understood each other, Mando,” you ask with a teasing lilt, watching his thrumming silhouette.

(Maker, I want to fuck you)

(Kriff, Mando, wanted to for weeks)

“I know what I said, I just…” Mando murmurs, trying not to disturb the child. The hand gripping the cloth eases, his fingers rubbing against the weave in a way that broadcasts nervousness.

(always at war, even when there isn’t anything to fight)

“I don’t want you to feel like…you have to take what I give you. You can ask for things, and you can tell me off if I’m…being too forward.” The admission makes you chew on your lip, thinking for a moment as he stands in your gaze. It’s gentlemanly in a way, him wanting you to know you have agency and that you can deny him if what he offers is not enough. It’s also deferral, though, another way for him to deny what he wants. Another attempt to place distance between you that doesn’t need to be there.

“Mando, I would very much like to continue with this,” you purr out, turning onto your back so the visor can roam the swell of your breasts under your top, the drag of your hand to lie on your stomach. “Just not when the kid’s present.” You wink at the last statement.

(seducing Mando? Who are you?)

“I want you, Mando. I want this,” you say, with just a little less teasing, “Whatever it might turn out to be.” You hear an audible swallow and receive a short nod, which makes you close your eyes and stretch, arching your back. You fall back on the bed, blinking slowly as the hot stare of the black T rips up and down your body.

“Goodnight, Mando,” you say, the words releasing him as he steps back from your bed.

“Goodnight Mesh’la,” he returns, letting the blanket fall back to obscure your sleeping space. You hear him put the child to bed, shutter the door, then silence.

In the dark of your bed you let your hands drag into your underwear much in the same way Mando’s did. Closing your eyes and drifting back to that forest clearing, you construct the ending you wanted from that moment. Mando’s body heavy over yours, his cock buried inside you as he fucked you into the dirt, fingers teasing you to completion as he chases his release and yours. The image of him taking you like this, powerful and encompassing but with the soft reverence that got you addicted to him in the first place, makes you cum hard and fast.

Then, as you drift back down and into slumber, you contemplate how to court (your) the Mandalorian. The conflict he suffers is still half shrouded from you, but you hope that your words can offer him some clarity, or at least help him make a few decisions. For all of his stature and presence, you may need to be the grounding force in this cautious partnership. Maybe it’s just a matter of letting Mando ease into the idea that you want all of him, even if he can only imagine himself in your bed for now.

And in the morning, as the caf percolates and Mando passes you in the hallway, maybe the heaviness of his visor and the time he spends letting it wander makes you believe that not forever could be sooner than you hoped.

END

“this life Has been A landscape Of pain

And still, Flowers Bloom in it.”

― Sanober Khan

The story continues in Episode 7: Ache