fanfuckingfic

[fanfuckingfic]

soap mactavish would eat someone else's cum out of you, sorry not sorry... 🫤 he's into being cucked, he'd watch from afar, tied up with rope by his lieutenant, watching simon riley – his superior – fuck you! all while you're moaning simon's name, telling him how good it feels while johnny burns with jealousy, his eyes glistening and cheeks tearstained as he rocks his hips against nothing, feeling overwhelmed and accidentally cumming in his boxers at the sight in front of him.

afterwards, he will cry into your pussy, crawling towards you and sniffling, eating you out while you degrade him for being so perverse and gross. he's so horny and feels so ashamed and humiliated that this turns him on, almost jealous as he repeats your words in his head. his lick and curl his tongue deep inside your swollen cunt, eating simon's cum out of you before making out with you, his lips swollen and puffy, tasting like simon's semen; bitter. :(

and yes, it's extremely embarrassing for poor johnny when he sees simon during deployment, getting teased for being a cuckold. :(

[fanfuckingfic]

Good Boy

Sukuna is a powerful man. Everybody knows him as the successful and arrogant CEO of the SHRINE company. But they don't know that at home, in the bedroom, he is a very different man. Only you know what Sukuna truly needs to be able to function in his stressful job.

Pairing: Sub!Sukuna x Dom!Reader (female) Genre: smut + fluff Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, BDSM elements, sub+dom dynamic, reader is a soft dom, restraining, collaring, impact play (flogging with a leather paddle), dirty talk, spitting in Sukuna's mouth, praise, edging, Sukuna cums untouched on command, pegging (Sukuna receiving). This is a modern + no-curses AU. Sukuna is a CEO and married to Reader. All things happen with mutual consent. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Dividers by @/benkeibear

Sukuna is a powerful man. Successful and feared by many. A big player in the business world. He makes it look easy, makes it look like he can do all of that effortlessly. He keeps up a high pace, coming to work before everyone else and only leaving after the sun has set. Attending business events and giving interviews for magazines while always wearing a smug smirk on his handsome face. Always hiding his true self behind a mask of professionalism and arrogance.

No one is allowed to see behind that mask. With one exception. There is one person who knows how stressed Sukuna truly is. How tired he is. Only one person knows the toll his work takes on him. Only you. Only his wife.

You are the only one who knows that sometimes the powerful CEO needs a break from everything. Only you know that sometimes this big, strong, and powerful man wants to be on his knees for you, bound and collared, needing to hear you call him your good boy before he is able to cum.

Sukuna hadn't known this side of himself for a long time. Maybe it was because he wasn't mature enough in his younger years. Maybe it was because his past relationships never offered him the amount of trust and love that the relationship with you gives him.

But Sukuna still remembers the day that changed everything. The day that made him discover something about himself and about his deepest needs.

He only wanted to take a short trip to your favorite lingerie boutique to buy a little something for you for White Day. A new set of sinfully expensive lingerie that you could wear for him.

It had been a stressful day at work, a meeting with the CEO of a rival company that had left Sukuna pissed off and on the edge. He hoped to find distraction in picking sexy underwear for his beloved wife, picturing you in it, easing his mind with thoughts of fucking you while you wore that pretty red lacey set with the little heart dangling from it.

But things didn't go as Sukuna had planned. His gaze strayed away from the luxurious red lace lingerie and landed on a display of collars. And all of a sudden Sukuna felt conflicted. So damn conflicted.

At that moment, he couldn't tell why the sight of those collars made him feel so strange. He drew his gaze away again and strolled to another corner of the boutique to look at more beautiful lingerie sets. But he couldn't focus. His thoughts stayed occupied with those leather collars. And suddenly, he found that his feet had carried him back to that one display.

He walked past it several times until he sighed and finally stopped in front of it, took one collar out of the shelf, and let it glide through his fingers. The black leather felt nice in his hand, smooth and warm. He tried to picture it on you, but to his utter surprise, he realized that it wasn't you who he wanted to put it on.

Oh. That is interesting.

He gulped.

His large hand trembled slightly when he brought the collar up a bit. He held it in front of his throat, feeling his pulse accelerate at seeing his faint reflection in the glass display.

What if...

He ground his teeth in annoyance when the shop assistant interrupted his moment by walking up to him.

"I see you are also interested in our Playtime Collection, sir. All collars and restraints are of the highest quality, of course. They offer high comfort and long usage. Do you want to pick one for your wife to go with the lingerie? I would recommend a thinner one in that case, more delicate, and maybe in a matching red? We also have some collars with a diamond charm. That collection is very popular for White Day. Should I get it for you?"

Sukuna stood there in silence for several seconds, too stunned to say anything. A rare moment for the CEO of the SHRINE Company. But he was a professional, after all, and so he turned around to smile politely at the shop assistant, his usual mask perfectly in place, as he informed her,

"No, thank you. This one is perfect. Put it in a separate gift box, please."

He left the shop feeling light-headed, and the bag sitting on the passenger seat of his Porsche seemed to emit a seductive lure the whole drive home, making adrenaline pump through Sukuna's veins.

What if she puts that collar on me?

The thought excited him and made him feel ashamed at the same time.

Never had he imagined he would be into this. Wasn't it embarrassing that a man like him even contemplated something like this?

But underneath that shame was something else. Something he craved: Comfort.

He knew what a collar like that meant. I wasn't just a pretty little accessory. It meant giving yourself to someone. It meant a sub giving themselves into their dom's hands fully. And that was a thought that made him grip the steering wheel tighter.

Wouldn't it be lovely? Wouldn't it be exactly what he needed after a hard day like this? Coming home and letting you put a collar on him? Giving himself into your loving hands? Handing control over to you. He loved you with his whole heart and soul. He trusted you like he never thought he could trust someone apart from himself.

Wouldn't it be so comforting to let you collar him and dominate him completely? Wouldn't it be such a relief to let himself fall into you? To hand control over to someone else, at least for a few hours, in the safety of his home?

The thought made a low groan slip from Sukuna's mouth.

He hid the small gift box in the walk-in closet. It sat there next to his designer watches and golden cufflinks, waiting for him to finally propose the idea to you.

When he did, after an exquisite dinner a few days later, you had smiled at him, slipped on his lap, and petted his hair, eyes filled with love and understanding.

"You want me to collar you? You want to be my... submissive?"

"Yes, that's what I want, darling. Only if you are comfortable with the idea."

"Of course I am. It will help you with all the pressure at work. It will help you let go. You know I am always worried about you with all the high stress levels you have day in and day out. I'm glad you came to me with this idea, Sukuna."

He released a breath of relief and tightened his arms around you. Of course, you understood. You always knew exactly what he needed.

Sukuna laughed softly. How funny it was. Here he was, this tall, buff man with a body full of solid muscles and intimidating-looking tattoos, someone who was feared in the whole business world, while you were so soft and small compared to him. But he knew you would catch him. He knew you would be strong, so he could be weak. He knew he wanted to be on his knees for you.

You did research starting that night. You discussed everything with him, set boundaries, and outlined how you both expected this dynamic to work. You went shopping with him the next day, getting everything you needed. You started slowly and tried things, experimenting to see what you both liked and to find out what exactly Sukuna needed.

That was a year ago. Sukuna has been collared for eleven months now, and he has never felt more liberated in his life. The collar grounds him. The collar takes the pressure off.

Sometimes, when he has an extremely stressful day in the office, he takes five minutes off to close his eyes and imagine coming home and getting on his knees for you. Just the thought of you putting his collar on him tonight helps him get through his busy workday. Just the thought of being allowed to get into subspace tonight makes him get through another meeting.

When you are in public, your roles are reversed in everyone else's eyes. Sukuna is the powerful CEO. The big, muscular hunk of a man in his designer suit who is in control at all times. The one with the smug smirk and the snide remarks. The one who effortlessly navigates through this business party and holds an immaculate speech before mingling with the crowd, where he charms new potential business partners into making a deal with him. And you are the sweet little wife on his arm who looks up at him and depends on her rich and dominant husband to take care of her.

They don't know the truth.

They don't know that you told Sukuna before the party that if he is a good boy tonight and manages to get that potential new business partner on his side, you will let him worship your pussy when you are home again.

Sukuna never expected how easy it would be, how natural it would feel to hand over control to you and let himself slip into subspace. How splendid it would feel to give himself fully to you.

He sighs when you bind his wrists with his tie, fixing them behind his back. He feels warm when you tell him to kneel for you. He is excited by the way you look at him when he is on the floor on his knees for you, with his muscular thighs spread, completely naked while you are still dressed. He loves to feel your gaze on his body, on his muscles, on his tattoos. He loves to see the love in your eyes.

Sukuna groans when your gaze lands on his cock, taking your time to look at him. It's so arousingly intimate. You have seen him naked so many times, have seen and touched his cock so often. But it is different when he is bound and kneeling before you. It makes him so hard that he feels dizzy. Pre-cum is running thickly down his hard length as your gaze inspects his cock and his taut full balls.

He moans when you get up from the bed and stand beside him, putting a hand in his pink hair and tugging on it gently, pulling his head against your hip, petting his hair, and cooing at him,

"My pretty boy."

Sukuna can't help but let out a sigh of relief and nuzzle his face gratefully against your hip. He feels exhilarated when you grab his hair and tug on it, smiling while you look at him and tell him,

"Open your mouth for me, my love."

He does so eagerly, opening up and sticking his tongue out while gazing up at you through his long black lashes. He is well-trained and proud of it. Sukuna has always been a fast learner, driven by his ambitious nature. A man used to working for his well-deserved success. Always striving to be the best. Of course, he had excelled in this task, too. In becoming the perfect submissive pet for you.

He can see the approval and adoration in your eyes, and it makes his heart feel so full. Especially when you praise him for his obedience.

"Such a good boy."

Your fingers caress his hair, making him moan lightly when your nails scratch over his undercut, but his mouth stays open, his tongue still sticking out, eyes fixed on your face, waiting for your command or for whatever you have planned for him tonight. Finally, he doesn't have to make decisions anymore. Finally, he can rest and give himself into your loving hands.

You slowly part your lips, which are painted with the beautiful, deep red lipstick he loves so much on you. His lashes flutter in anticipation. Your hand grabs his chin, gently tilting his head further upwards, and then you spit in his waiting mouth, letting your spit drool into his mouth slowly, showing him that from now on, you are the one in control.

"Now swallow it."

He does so, and your hand caresses his cheek lovingly.

"You are so good for me, Sukuna. You truly deserve your collar, baby."

His cock twitches needily when you put it on him, and he feels the smooth leather wrap around his throat. Your fingertips caress his neck lovingly for a moment before you pull away to let your hands slip under your skirt. Sukuna watches with a lust-filled gaze as you pull down your panties, the lacey red ones he gifted to you. You let them fall to the floor as you sit down on the bed, spreading your legs, letting Sukuna see your glistening wet cunt underneath your short skirt.

"You were such a good boy tonight at the party. It's time for your reward."

Sukuna moans softly when you fasten the leash on the golden ring on his collar and give it a firm tug, pulling him closer until he is kneeling between your spread legs.

Your pussy is right in front of his face, hot and dripping wet. So beautiful, so enticing. He can feel your warmth, can smell your sweet scent. He wants to push his face between your legs so badly. But he waits obediently like the good boy he wants to be. He waits for your command.

"Spoil my pussy, pretty boy. Make me cum on that pretty face of yours."

And Sukuna is happy to obey. He eats you out devotedly. He worships your pussy. Licks it, kisses it, sniffs it, loves it with tender kisses and sweet suckles on your swollen clit, and fucks it with his tongue until you gasp his name and cum on his face.

You reach down afterward to tease his cock. Edging him, running a teasing fingertip over his swollen mushroom head and pressing it against his slit. Giving him a few slow pumps only to pull away again. Circling his tip lovingly, swooping up a pearl of pre-cum, and bringing your finger to your lips to taste him, moaning and praising him for how sweet he tastes.

You coo praise at him for being so strong, for being so good for you, for holding back so long. Sukuna's head is spinning. He is drowning in the warmth of your love, in the sweet comfort of your control over him. His cock throbs heavily, so close to busting his load. But your voice drifts to his ears,

"Uh uh, not yet, my love. Not yet. Take your time, baby. You've been working so hard those last few days. I need you to let go fully before you are allowed to cum. Free yourself from everything. Let go of work and your busy schedule. You aren't the CEO of SHRINE here in this room. You are my pet. You are my good boy. I own you, and I decide everything for you. You don't have to think anymore, Sukuna. I will tell you when to cum. Give yourself to me."

And he nods, breathing heavily as his cock throbs with pleasure and need. It would be easy for a strong man like Sukuna to slip out of his restraints and manhandle you, throw you on the bed, and fuck you into the mattress until he is satisfied. That knowledge somehow makes this whole scenario even more arousing. Because he knows he won't give in to these urges. He will be a good boy. He will be strong. He will hold back as long as you want him to. He isn't the one who decides things here. He is yours completely.

You smile at him, and your gaze travels over his body again until it stops on his hard cock.

"Look at that gorgeous cock of yours. So long, so thick, so strong. And all mine."

When you join him on the floor, Sukuna is already a mess, sweating and moaning, cock twitching needily, his balls sticky from all the pre-cum that ran down his length.

You get on your knees and put your small hands on his muscular thighs, caressing them tenderly as you slowly lean closer to blow air onto Sukuna's swollen wet cockhead, making him groan loudly.

"Aww, so cute for me, hm my prince? Can you be my good boy and cum on command? Can you cum just from me looking at your pretty cock?"

Your words make a low growl fall from Sukuna's lips as his balls tighten and his cock twitches. He gulps and looks at you, maroon eyes burning into yours as he nods,

"Yes, please let me show you how good I can be for you."

You smile and moan softly, your eyes clouded over by lust, and it makes Sukuna's stomach flutter and his heart throb. More pre-cum is trickling down his hot length and runs over his taut balls before it drips onto the carpet underneath him. And your eyes are on his cock and his balls, following that small rivulet of pre.

Your voice is a tender caress,

"Such a sweet boy for me."

Sukuna's muscles are taut, biceps flexed, wrists straining against the tie, pecs, and abs taut, his thighs clenched. Your words drive him crazy. And the feeling of your eyes on him, on his cock, makes his head spin.

There is something so demeaning about kneeling here on the floor, bound and horny, being told to cum on command, being told to cum untouched like some pathetic little virgin who never fucked his load into a woman.

But oh, how he loves it. How it gives him peace. How it turns him on. Sukuna can't help but roll his hips as if fucking into your tight cunt, rutting his cock against nothing, as a shaky moan falls from his lips.

Your hand cups his cheek and caresses it lovingly before it wanders down over his flexed pecs and biceps.

"You are so beautiful. Look at that pretty cock. Look how much you're leaking all over yourself."

His gaze travels down to his cock, and he groans loudly, seeing his angry dark pink, swollen cockhead, messy from all the precum. He feels and sees his cock twitch at the attention, so aroused that you are looking at him. And he feels his balls tightening, feels his thighs spread even more, and he knows he is close, so fucking close.

It's your voice that sends him over the edge,

"Now show me, baby. Show me how that pretty cock cums for me. Make a big mess all over yourself, Kuna. Cum for me. Now."

White hot lights fill his vision as he feels himself cum, cock twitching and shooting his hot cum all over himself in messy white ropes.

The sounds coming out of his mouth are sounds Sukuna would never let anyone else hear. Desperate whimpers and needy mewls, a shaky sob when his cock throbs and shoots another spurt of hot cum all over the carpet and his thighs.

You talk him through it, coo at him, praise him for being such a good boy, telling him how pretty he looks and how pretty his cock is when it shoots cum everywhere. How cute he is when he makes such a mess for you.

And Sukuna's head is spinning. He shoots his whole orgasm all over himself until his spent cock just twitches, but no cum comes out anymore.

He still moans when you make him clean it up, swooping up his cum from his abs and chest and feeding it to him from your fingers. And more moans fall from Sukuna's lips when you tug on his leash to make him lean down and lick his milky cum off the floor. He does so obediently, and when you tell him to open his mouth and stick his tongue out to show you that he really was a good boy and swallowed it all, he can't help but smile proudly.

He is happy, so happy when you praise him and when you take the tie of his wrists and hug him lovingly, praising him for being so good for you.

He feels pride surge through him, filling his every pore. Sukuna is a proud man through and through in all aspects of his life. Confident and self-assured, even arrogant most of the time. But nothing fills him with so much pride as this. Cumming untouched at your command.

This is his biggest accomplishment today. Not that he succeeded in snatching a lucrative business deal from the white-haired Gojo brat. Not that he poached one of the Zenin Group's most important partners. No, his biggest accomplishment today was that he was a good boy for you. The thing Sukuna is the most proud of is cumming exactly how you told him to.

He smiles proudly as he looks up at you. You smile back at him and run a hand through his hair, cocking your head and asking in a voice full of love,

"What do good boys say?"

And Sukuna's smile grows even bigger, and he says loud and clear in his smooth, velvety voice,

"Thank you."

His heart feels so full when you nod, and your eyes fill with pride. You pet him and lean down to kiss him on the lips. Lovingly and tender, showering him with affection.

Sukuna thinks no one in his small circle of people he considers his friends truly knows him. Not even Uraume, who has been his assistant for many years.

No one but you.

You know him. You know what he needs. You know what he needs on the days he comes home with a victorious glint in his eyes. You know what he needs when he comes home tired and stressed. And you also know what he needs when he comes home in a grumpy mood, complaining about work and all the incompetent fools he has to deal with all day.

"What's with that attitude, Sukuna? I think I have to put you in your place again."

Yes, you know exactly what he needs. He told you he wants you to be rougher with him whenever he is in one of those foul moods. That he wants you to rein him in on those days. Because you are the only person who can do that.

Your words instantly shut him up, and he feels himself already slipping into his submissive role as he smirks at you across the table and tells you in his low, velvety voice,

"I would be delighted if you showed me my place, my love."

Soon, his smirk is replaced by soft groans as Sukuna writhes on the bed.

Finally, he is free. He doesn't have to think but can only feel. He can let himself fall into this delicious mix of pain and pleasure, and you catch him with your love.

He is used to being in control. He is used to being a powerful man in his everyday work life. He is used to being a King, so to speak. But not here, not in your bedroom during a scene. Here you reign. Here you are, his Queen, and he is the obedient prince. A beloved, pretty pet.

You trail the leather paddle slowly over his skin. Just a teasing touch, a light caress, tracing his firm muscles while you admire his tall, muscular body spread out for you. Sukuna is breathing heavily, arousal and excited anticipation filling his veins. His cock is rock hard, trapped under his heavy body, pressing against the silky sensation of the bedsheets. Every inch of his skin is highly sensitive right now.

He knows the sweet pain will come any moment now. It makes him heady with lust. You have reached the top of his back, slowly trailing the paddle over his neck and the stubble of his undercut before you pull it away.

A loud, needy groan falls from Sukuna's lips at the same time that the loud slapping sound of the leather paddle connecting firmly with his ass cheeks fills the room.

Finally, he is falling. Finally, he is slipping into the sweet, delirious comfort of subspace. Bound to the bed, spread out for you, this tall, muscular man so utterly at your mercy. It is everything Sukuna needs.

Another firm slap lands on his ass, and Sukuna moans into the pillow. It's a feral sound, low and primal. He promised you to not hold back during your scenes, and he found that it's freeing to let it all out and be loud in bed and let you hear his unrestrained lust.

And your praise makes it even better. A soft hand lands on his firm ass cheek where you just spanked him a moment ago. Such a tender, soothing touch in stark contrast to the hard slap and the sting of the paddle. You caress his ass tenderly while you whisper to him,

"You are my good boy, Kuna. Doing so well for me. Are you ready for the next round? I'll do five this time. Do you think you can take it, baby?"

He nods,

"Yes, please. I'm ready. Please give me more."

It was never as easy and natural for him to beg as here in your bed.

Sukuna takes the spanking like the good boy that he is. He moans and growls and begs for more. And you spank him to an orgasm that makes him almost black out. With his buff muscles tensing up, his toned arms pulling at the restraints as his strong body shakes and trembles, his cock twitching beneath him, soaking the bed sheets with his hot cum, while he sobs into the pillow, a mix of your name and breathless thank yous.

You give him time before you untie him and tell him to turn on his back, joining him on the bed to spoil his cock with slow, thorough strokes until he is hard again and moaning and twitching. You finally straddle his lap and sink down on his throbbing length, riding him until you scream his name and cum on him with your warm cream gushing over him, pushing Sukuna over the edge, too, letting him fill your sweet cunt with his cum as a reward for being so good for you.

It's the end of a particularly stressful week, and Sukuna finds himself unable to relax. The book he wanted to read lies forgotten on the leather couch. He couldn't focus on the words. The hot bath he took didn't help him relax his tense muscles.

But then he hears the sound of the elevator followed by your footsteps as you walk into the penthouse, and he feels his skin tingle.

He is by your side only seconds later, wrapping his arms around you from behind, greeting you with a loving kiss on the neck and a murmured,

"I missed you, darling."

He has been looking forward to this Saturday evening. Has been craving it, knowing what he will get tonight because he worked so hard this week.

"Is my sweet prince ready to get all the stress fucked out of him?"

It's the ultimate level of submission in Sukuna's eyes. And the ultimate comfort.

Yes, Sukuna can be sweet. Yes, he can be submissive. Yes, he can be a good boy. And he proves it to you right there on the bed in a position that is so vulnerable but so freeing.

His face is resting on the dark red silk pillow, his thick muscular thighs are spread, exposing himself to you fully.

His cock is swollen, throbbing hard, pre-cum oozing needily out of his slit and running down his veiny length and into the silk sheets. His balls almost ache from how taut they are. Anytime you are about to peg him, he is so hard that he thinks he will faint.

But the feeling of the leather collar around his neck grounds him and gives him reassurance.

Sukuna groans softly when your hands trail slowly over his muscular back, caressing him, massaging his tense muscles, your voice so sweet and soothing while your lips trail kisses down his back,

"You are doing so well for me, baby. So beautiful."

Your praise makes his cock twitch, and a low groan spills from his lips. You finger him open, taking your sweet time with him, lubing his tight hole up thoroughly, gradually adding more fingers, and leaving gentle kisses on his back. Cooing at him when your fingertips rub against his prostate and needy moans fall from Sukuna's lips.

You pull away, but only to straddle the back of his thighs, leaning down over him to tease him with the slicked-up tip of the strap you are wearing. Rubbing lightly against Sukuna's lubed-up hole, driving him crazy, making him moan and whimper, sounds that he usually would never make. Your warm breath caresses his neck, and your lips brush tenderly over his skin,

"Are you ready for me, baby? Can my prince take my cock?"

His hole clenches at your words, his hips buck.

"Yes, please fuck me."

Sukuna almost can't take it anymore, head spinning from lust, sobs escaping his lips as he forces himself to hold back and not take but only receive as you keep teasing his lubed-up entrance with the tip of your strap, slowly stretching him open around the thick tip.

He gasps loudly when you push the dildo into him fully, his ass twitching around it, even as Sukuna's gasp turns into a hoarse groan.

"So cute. Such a good boy for me."

You sound breathless too, and a moment later, you roll your hips into him, beginning with a slow but deep pace, fucking Sukuna with deep strokes that make both of you moan.

Soon, the pace becomes faster and harder, the tip of the dildo hitting Sukuna's sensitive prostate unrelentingly, making him see stars.

A wild, loud moan falls from his lips, uncontrolled, desperate, full of lust and pain and raw need.

He needs this today. This was a stressful week. He needs to get fucked rough. Needs to get dicked down hard. Needs to get wrecked.

And you give him everything he needs. You fuck him with punishing hard thrusts, torturing his prostate with your thick strap, making Sukuna's body tremble beneath you, making him sob and whine into the pillow, the pillowcase wet from his spit and even some tears.

Instinctively, he begins to rut against the mattress, grinding his leaking cock needily against it. But a firm slap lands on his right ass cheek.

"Stop that. Good boys don't need their cocks rubbed. And you are a good boy, Sukuna, aren't you? You are my very, very good boy, right baby? A good boy like you cums just from my strap, right?"

He nods wildly, sobbing as he answers you, his voice almost unrecognizable, higher than usual, full of tears and raw need,

"Y.. yes! Yes, I am your good boy! Please, please...let me cum on your cock! I won't disobey!"

You moan softly at his plea. Your warm hands run up his muscular back, caressing him, every touch making his cock throb. And you go slow, so slow, pulling the dildo out of him almost completely, making Sukuna whine loudly. But he instantly shuts up when you tug on his leash. He grits his teeth and forces himself to stay still, giving himself to you, waiting for you patiently.

Anything to be a good boy for you. Not demanding anything, not taking anything. That isn't his place, and he knows it. He is here to receive. To give himself to you completely. He forces himself to calm his breathing, relaxing his flexed muscles, and you reward him with a whispered,

"Aww, yes, just like that, baby. So good for me. I trained you so well, hm? Now take it, baby."

And you roll your hips into him, pushing the thick dildo back all the way into Sukuna's tight ass, making him moan, loud and broken, as his strong body shudders under you.

You laugh softly and grind your hips against him, rotating them slowly, rubbing the dildo against his prostate, sending shock wave after shock wave of bliss through him. And Sukuna cries out, unable to hold back. But no words are leaving his lips. At this point, he is unable to form them, only loud, unintelligible, needy cries and whiny moans.

He knows he won't last long now, can already feel the familiar tightening in his heavy balls, can feel the pressure inside him build almost unbearably. His muscles flex again, and you moan his name, full of love, followed by the command he needed to hear so badly,

"Aww, yes, Kuna. You're so good for me. You can cum on my cock now, baby."

And he does. Crying out loudly, a wet, unrestrained, desperate sound full of tears of bliss. His ass clenches hard around your strap, his strong body shuddering from wave after wave of a world-shattering prostate orgasm ripping through him. His cock pulses copious amounts of hot sticky seed onto the already stained sheets. Testament to the bliss he found here.

You lean down to kiss his neck gently, trailing tender kisses all over his broad back, fucking him slowly through his orgasm, moaning when you cum on the strap, too, just a few seconds later.

Sukuna closes his eyes and feels some hot tears slip out of the corners of his eyes as you snuggle against him, resting on his broad back, the dildo still buried deeply inside him, and you caress him, cuddle him, and whisper sweet praise to him, telling him how much you love him. And he knows he is in heaven here with you. No matter how stressful his life as a CEO is, he can endure it because he can come home to you and let you take care of him.

To everyone else, Sukuna is the feared alpha male. But to you, he is your good boy, and that's a fact that can get him through any workday.

He will continue to expand his business empire. He will acquire new business partners. He will go to countless meetings and negotiate contract after contract. Sukuna will work hard to make his company the best in the whole country.

But only if he knows he can be on his knees for you every night with the leather collar around his neck and your fingers petting his hair while you call him your good boy. Only when every Saturday he is allowed to cum on your strap.

His success is just as much your success. Because without you, Sukuna couldn't be the man he needs to be.

This was the first time I wrote submissive Sukuna, and it was so much fun!! IT WAS SO EXHILARATING TO WRITE THIS FIC!! Thank you so much to the sweet anon who sent me the ask about my thoughts on sub!Sukuna. He is SUCH a good boy ;) I want to hear him whimper and sob so bad!!

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

[fanfuckingfic]

I love imagining the classic x-men as modern teenagers a la fox apocalypse. scott is the normcore boyfriend. he does not have tiktok or instagram. he owns crocs. he has a twitter account alex made for him and he only follows a daily fun fact account. his most used app is daily crossword. he has autism. at some point he gets instagram just so he can like jeans posts and comment that she looks pretty, his profile picture is a selfie taken like a mom on facebook. he uses 3 in one soap. i love him.

[fanfuckingfic]

craving a little typical but no less sweet au where chaebol alpha yoongi who has never expressed any interest in having a pack or having a mate is spotted leaving a club with omega escort m/c (not spotted- the photos just make it look like that) and yoongi's parents JUMP at the opportunity to try and pin him down with an omega (finally) and hopefully give them some grandpups.

and yoongi, despite his reputation as a ruthless businessman, can't crush his parents hopes- and agrees to enter into a temporary but public relationship with the m/c because of course the company needs to avoid a scandal, and if he's playing white night by 'rescuing' the m/c then that looks better in the company's eyes- it's a modern solution to an age old problem.

only...once she moves in does yoongi realize he was missing something, how much his alpha almost seems to preen? is that the right word for it? when he walks in after a long day and finds her nesting on the couch, or in a puddle of sunlight, maybe he starts doing little alpha behaviors without thinking about it- like dragging his wrists across her things so that she smells like him when she goes out, scenting his apartment in ways he never would, so that she knows where his terriory is and where she's wealcome.

hesitating, watching her sleep and /gaurding her/ when there are moments where she's vulnerable, he finds himself unable to come home without first getting take out for her, obsessing a little over making sure that she's comfortable, fed and healthy. maybe filling his apartment with little nesting nooks because 😠 if he's going to have an omega he's going to make damn sure they're taken care of. yoongi doesn't even realize it's positively affecting him, making him more well rested, more mentally aware of his business dealings, until the 4th quarter reviews come in and he decides that yes he's going to actually try and court her for real <3

[fanfuckingfic]

I don’t think I’ve seen this yet but I seriously need your thoughts on jjk women (heavy on maki and mai (I’m a lil sad barely anyone talks abt mai! orz) and their gf who surprises them by wearing a lingerie for their birthdays as a lil present hehe (i can’t explain it but there is just smth different with wearing pretty lingerie for a pretty woman… gosh I’m melting, I want to be unwrapped by them)

Yeah a lot of people write for male characters, I think the most I've seen written for female characters is in the Arcane fandom.

Pairing: Nobara, Maki, Mai, Shoko, Utahime x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, kissing, lingerie, stripping, grinding, strap-on use, fingering

A/N: I mostly write requests so if you'd like to request more female characters you can.

Nobara picked out what you should wear, it was more like a gift for you. You thought it was odd for her to give you a gift on her birthday but she liked to spoil you with pretty things. You were her pretty girlfriend after all. Well two could play at that game. The look of surprise on her face when you lifted your skirt and reveled that you were wearing what she bought you... she didn't want to take it off but at the same time... god she was you'd look even better naked and fucking yourself on her tongue.

Maki suspected you had something planned for her birthday given how secretive you were for most of the day and how you shied away from her inquisitive looks. You won't tell her what it is, even with all the kisses she gives you but you do give her a clue, it's something that will require her to get her strap-on. You could have said more but it wasn't needed, she was already running to get it only to come back and see you decked out in pretty lingerie, ready for her to slip it to the side and fuck you all the while you're wearing that pretty gift.

Mai did notice you were taking an unusual amount of time getting dressed for the birthday dinner. Stranger was the fact that you didn't sit across form her, you sat on her lap. She welcomed the closeness always, but couldn't keep focused on the food when her hands wondered beneath your clothes, feeling the real reason you sat on her lap. Expert fingers took your clothes off little by little to reveal the prize underneath. She didn't want to move you, where you were was perfect, your breasts right in her face, so much skin to kiss, while you grind yourself on her thigh, leaving a wet spot as you do so.

Shoko saw you putting the lingerie on but didn't say anything. She would never spoil the surprise you had in store for her. Through the night she shows little ways of appreciation for this gift, kissing you when she can, always holding you close, riling you up with the tiniest touches on your neck and thighs but avoiding the most sensitive spots. Does pretend to be surprised when you reveal yourself to her but the one truly surprised is you when she rejects your offer to eat her out. There's a reason she skipped dessert, she wants to eat you, she wants you to ride her face while keeping that pretty lingerie on.

Utahime wants you to wear that all day for her birthday, only the lingerie and nothing else. That would be the best gift in her opinion, the gift of seeing you looking so sexy for her whenever she turns to kiss you, and your pussy easily accessible for her fingers whenever she wants. No time of that special day is spent without her hands, mouth or eyes on you, drinking in every movement, every reaction up until you strip for her at the end of the night and finally let her give you a gift of her own, the orgasm your pussy has been craving.

[fanfuckingfic]

Halloween Masterlist 2023

All stories are 18+ and contain dark content. Please look at the warnings before reading them!! I will add more detailed warnings when I post each story. All characters in these stories are of age. Minors don't interact!

Brother ++ Sukuna x Reader (female) + Yuuji x Reader Genre: Horror

When you start dating Yuuji, you don't know that your sweet sunshine boy has an evil twin who wants to have his brother's girl too.

Warnings: 18+, dark content, smut, consensual sex with Yuuji + noncon with Sukuna. Degradation, humiliation, forced orgasms, pussy spanking, squirting.

Mine ++ Megumi x Reader (female) Genre: Yandere

Megumi loves you. He loves you so much that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. But past experiences taught him that everyone always ends up leaving him. He cannot let this happen. He will make sure the two of you get your happy ever after!

Warnings: 18+, dark content, yandere Megumi, unhealthy relationship dynamics, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, baby trapping.

Death's Bride ++ Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Dark Romance

Death visits your village to reap the souls of the dying, and you end up making a deal with him. If he spares your sister's life, you will join him in his dark Kingdom and become the woman by his side.

Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of death, gore + blood. Reader has to take her own life so she can join Sukuna in the afterlife.

[fanfuckingfic]

Humbly requesting the stay the night prompt of “wait…you’ve been here all night?” Pairing whatever. Just wanting to see this written out 💜

When you wake, the world feels like it’s trying to hammer you back unconscious. 

“Shit…” You say immediately following your groan, pressing the heel of your palm to your eyes to quell the horrible pulsing pain there. The headache feels like it’s trying to carve inside your skull, and you can taste bile still on your lips, tacky in your mouth.

The hell happened last night? You think blearily, blinking in the brightness of late morning sunlight that filters through your curtains. It’s too bright, but when you twist to try and draw them closed your body aches in protest. 

You try to recall the evening from the night before, recalling your giggling laughter as Soap slung an arm around your shoulder and dragged you over to the dance floor of the club. He and Gaz had belted out the lyrics to the songs, muffled by the pump of the speakers, had stumbled over to the bar and ordered more drinks. The rest is a dizzying haze of color and light, but judging from your clothes crumpled and the foul taste in your mouth, you can judge it didn’t go well. 

“Fuckin hell…” You groan at a fresh wave of throbbing at your temples. Yet your stomach rumbles, empty and biting at your insides, and at last it forces you from bed, stumbling down the stairs of your flat towards the kitchen.

Yet as you enter inside you’re startled to find a gigantic, looming figure in a dark hoodie, mask bunched around his nose as he sips from a mug that seems far too small for his massive hands.

“Ghost?” You squeak in surprise, bracing in the doorway with shock clear across your face. 

Ghost looks up at you, dark eyes not smudged with paint and clear behind his plain black balaclava. He doesn’t look surprised to see you at all, unlike you. 

“Was beginning to wonder if you were dead.” He remarks flatly, holding your gaze for a long moment, just enough to make your cheeks burn. You’re still dressed in your clothes from last night, hair messy and makeup likely smudged to shit. Yet Ghost appears entirely nonplussed, at last turning towards the kettle.

“You don’t remember.” He observes, and when you shake your head you groan, the motion far too much for your hangover headache. He glances over his shoulder at you, nodding with meaning towards a chair at the kitchen table. 

“Where’s Johnny…Gaz?” You ask as you gently lower yourself down, cradling your head in your hands. 

“Probably still bollocksed.” Ghost declares, turning and leaning on the counter as the kettle simmers behind him. “They were bog-faced by the time they called me. Said you were fallen from grace, from what I could make out.”

You knew that much, can tell from the way your stomach distantly rolls with discontent. It doesn’t explain why he’s here.

“So what?” You ask, rubbing your temples. “You helped me home?”

Ghost shrugs, mouth quirking with a hint of amusement in a rare glimpse of his expression. “Held your hair while you got sick, made you drink some water, kept you from texting your ex…joking.” He supplies at your aghast expression. “Settled down on your couch to make sure you didn’t wander out into the streets.”

You blink at that, raising your head from your hands and snapping to look at him. “Wait…you’ve been here all night?”

Ghost shrugs again, but this time there’s a strange ounce of guardedness to it, like he’s reluctant to admit he kept watch. 

“...and Soap and Gaz?” You venture, and that makes the wry, barely sinister smile return. 

“Told ‘em to bugger off. Might have to go hunting in some alleys for them later.”

You aren’t sure whether to laugh or be horrified with the dryness of his tone, half-convinced he’s telling the truth. Before you can ask, the kettle whistles behind him and Ghost turns, pouring the hot water into a second mug.

“Bloody sergeants.” He sighs, a little irritated. “Should have never let them take you out. Can’t be trusted when they’re sloshed.”

There’s a tone there that’s frustrated, and rather than it sitting unhappily in your chest it instead makes you smile. 

He was worried.

Ghost turns, sets the mug of tea on the table before you, his hand covering the top. Yet when you reach for it he doesn’t move, and you glance up to see his severe stare leveled down at you.

“No more getting pished.” Ghost tells you severely in a low murmur, and you grimace, duck your head in a rightful amount of shame. 

“No more drinking with the sergeants.” You recite dutifully, and Simon huffs a sound that almost feels like a chuckle.

He stands over you, arms crossed as you blow at your tea, watches as you finish it, and you feel warm under his gaze.

[fanfuckingfic]

Alright...hear me out. Ghost with a fem!reader that wakes him up with a blow job, and he later returns the favor by waking her up by either eating her out or very gently fucking her awake. I am a FERAL for consenting somno.

this, THIS is what i needed to write about😌 smut below (minors—DNI)

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

word count: 908

warning: consensual somnophilia (m! and f!receiving), oral (m!receiving, mentions of f!receiving), slight dirty talk? (basically just simon having a way with words), not proofread

you wouldn’t even know how this whole thing started with simon. you would both probably be a bit tipsy, trying to celebrate his most recent mission with a few sips (an entire bottle) of wine at home.

you would be sitting in simon’s lap, thighs hooked on either side of his hips and leaning back against the hands he was running along your spine. you weren’t even sure you heard him right at first, which made your eyebrows furrow a bit as you met his gaze.

“you want me to what?”

simon rarely got sheepish or embarrassed, but when it came to sex, he was typically a bit more reserved.

“c’mon…don’t make me say it again, sweetheart. that’s fuckin’ cruel to do to a man.” he joked quietly, the touch of his hands on your back becoming a bit firmer as he pulled you closer. “just wanted to give you somethin’ to think about, lovie. i think it’d be bloody sexy to wake up with my cock halfway down your throat."

simon never mentioned it again. but you remembered, letting the idea hang in the back of your mind for weeks. the more you thought about it, the more it excited you. so when you woke up early one morning with simon still fast asleep next you, you knew that it was the perfect time.

you slowly slipped down the bed, nestling yourself under the blankets and between simon's slightly opened thighs. you gently tugged down the hem of his briefs until you could fish his semi-hard cock from its confines, unable to hold back the soft hum that fell from your lips as you felt its heaviness in your palm.

it didn’t even matter that the blanket over your head concealed simon’s peaceful face—all you could focus on was licking a long stripe along the underside of his cock, tongue flicking against the soft pink tip and fingers squeezing along the base. the heady taste of simon bled out on your tongue, making your eyes slowly flutter closed as you closed your lips around him and gave him a gentle suck.

simon’s legs twitched at the sudden stimulation, his brain slow to catch up and stir out of his tired stupor. “mmm…what’re you—oh christ.” his hand found the back of your head beneath the blanket, his other making quick work to push the fabric away from your face and letting his eyes feast on the sight in front of him. “jesus, sweetheart. m’not—fuck, not gonna last long with your throat squeezin’ me like that.”

simon was still half-asleep, his movements slow and sluggish as he shifted further up on the pillows to get a better look at you sucking him off. one hand remained on the back of your head, not as a guide but simply to touch you, the other resting along your opened jaw and fingers brushing at the corner of your stretched lips. he was right—he didn’t last long. it took only a few more languid dips of simon’s cock into the back of your throat before he spilled his cum into your eager mouth with a soft hiss and whimper of your name.

what you didn’t expect to happen after that morning was for simon to return the favor.

you had fallen asleep on the couch one afternoon, legs splayed open and head nestled against the armrest as you slept. it was a blazing afternoon, one so hot that you were only wearing a pair of silk shorts and a tank top—all of which exposed too much and not enough all at once.

simon was walking through the door, arms loaded with his bag of gear and dirty laundry he’d collected while away at base. his eyes caught on your figure immediately, and it took everything in him not to drop the items in his grip. you looked so peaceful as you slept, but simon couldn’t care less about that.

once he had placed this things into a neat pile by the door, simon made his way over to the living room and sunk down on his knees in front of your sleeping form. he didn’t even bother pulling your shorts off of your hips, afraid the movement would stir you from sleep too quickly—so he settled for pressing heated kisses directly along your clothed core, a soft groan leaking from his lips as one arm curled around the thigh propped up against the back of the couch and tugged you closer to his waiting mouth.

a smirk flitted on simon’s lips as your sleeping body reacted perfectly to him, your legs falling open a bit more as you shifted your hips up in your sleep. he continued pressing those kisses along your covered slit until a breathy whine fell from your mouth. he peeked one eye up to notice your tired eyes fluttering open, a soft ‘what’re you doing, si?’ falling from you in a panted breath.

“remember last week? woke up cummin’ down that pretty little throat of yours.” simon mumbled into the heated skin of your thigh as he sunk his teeth into your flesh, pulling away with a lewd pop. his hand dragged up your body, palm pushing against your balmy skin from the top of your cunt until his fingers were splayed on your sternum. “just returnin’ the favor, sweetheart. relax f’me, baby—yeah, that’s it. go back to sleep and let my tongue do all the work, m’kay?”

[fanfuckingfic]

".... whats that one for?"

"hm?" you hum, not taking your eyes off the mirror in front of you as you gently scrubbed your face.

"this one, love," simon says, picking up the pink container of eye cream. the small container looks even tinier in his huge hands and you give it a glance.

"eye cream, its to help with under eye bags and things like that," you mumble as you rinse your face and pick up a bottle of serum. he watches you quietly as you use the dropper and rub the liquid into your skin.

"whats that?"

"this?" you hold up the bottle you were using, "hylaluronic acid."

simon furrows his brows.

"sounds like somethin' johnny would use in 'is bloody explosives."

you giggle and nod,

"kinda, but its good for your skin, repairs the barrier and what not."

he nods, pretending to understand what you're talking about and leans in the door frame of the bathroom, watching you still.

"why are you suddenly so interested in my routine anyways?" you ask as you face the mirror again and apply more products.

simon shrugs. he's not going to admit that he's never thought you looked more beautiful than you do right now. you're in his home, getting ready to go to sleep in his arms. despite his composed demeanor he practically giddy as a school boy with a crush on the inside.

you finally apply the last cream and tuck everything away in the cabinet. you turn to him with a soft smile,

"ready for bed?"

he swears his heart is going to beat out of his chest, fuck how could one person be so pretty? its not fair, he thinks, that you do this to him. but at the same time he's grateful for it, eternally grateful that you chose him of all people. out of the entire world, you were doing your routine so you could lay down and sleep with him.

he mirrors your small smile and grabs your hand.

"glad youre finally done, lets sleep then, love."

[fanfuckingfic]

Unexpected Visitor

Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+

Can be found on ao3 here

Description: You work in a brothel, an exciting new customer enters and you get to service him.

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

It was summer in Imperial City, and had to be the hottest day of the year, you guessed. Thankfully, your normal work attire only included a bra, panties, and a thin robe.

There were pros and cons to working in a place like this during summer. On one hand, it was the busy season and you haven’t felt this rich in years. The heat made everyone horny. On the other hand, customers were generally sweaty and sometimes even stank from it. But you charged accordingly.

It was nearing 8pm and most of the other women were in rooms or on break, which left you welcoming any and all new customers when they walked in.

You could hear footsteps outside the door before the person entered. You were nearly startled by the sight.

Beskar armor, head to toe. It wasn’t hard to tell, the unique shine of it dazzled you.

“Hello,” you started, trying to keep your breathing even. “How can I help you?”

He stared at you for a long second. He scanned the room before turning his helmet to face you again. “How much?” He was straight to the point.

“Depends on what you want.” You informed him, shifting your weight to your left side and putting a hand on that hip, free hand wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead.

He didn’t say anything.

“Handies are 50. Blows are 75. Fucks are 200.” You raise a brow at him, wondering if he’s just got a bad attitude.

The masked man reaches into a pouch and hands you some credits. You count them. 200.

“Come on back… uh-“ you hold out a hand, gesturing, hoping he’ll give you a name.

“Mando.” He says shortly.

“Mando.” You nod, smiling at him as you lead him back to a room. “Ground rules; no violence, no shitting, no pissing. The rest is fair game.”

“Mhm.” He agrees quickly.

Once you’re both in the room, you shut and lock the door. You turn around to see the man placing his gloves on the dresser. It was the only skin on him you could see.

“Gonna take forever to get that armor off.” You observe.

“It’s staying on.” He spoke firmly.

“Okay.” You nod, heat pooling in your stomach. You didn’t know if it was the dominance, the voice, or the way he was disguised by the helmet, but something was intriguing about him.

You weren’t sure how to start things, unable to read his hidden face. You weren’t stupid, you knew that men of his kind couldn’t show their faces.

Nonetheless, you gathered yourself and walked over to him, placing your hands on his chest.

He reached down and wasted no time untying your robe before pushing it off of you. His hands were rough, calloused. They felt like high grit sandpaper against your well moisturized, dewy skin. The bedrooms were hotter than the front of the building, which meant you were sweating even a little more now. You couldn’t imagine how hot he was under his armor and layers of clothing.

The Mandalorian stepped back, admiring your figure as he held your waist. “Mm.” He hummed.

You could almost feel yourself blushing. This was out of the ordinary for you. To be fair, a lot of men you serviced were submissive. You had a dominant side that you used a lot, but it was nice when someone else was willing to take the lead.

He sat on the bed and patted his thighs with each hand, gesturing for you to have a seat.

You nodded, walking to the bed and putting a leg on each side of his hips to straddle him.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in against his chest.

The cold metal made you gasp, but something about the sensation caused you to become wetter. You bit your lip and looked at the visor, having to guess where his eyes were.

“You’re pretty.” He cooed.

You smiled, slinging your arms around his shoulders. “Thanks.”

In one swift move, the Mandalorian flipped you onto your back, getting on top of you while staying between your legs. You tried to hold back a moan, barely able to stifle it.

Mando snaked a hand between your legs, pushing your panties aside and sliding his fingertip between your lips.

“Fuck.” You cursed, eyes closing from the pleasure. You could literally hear how wet you were as his finger slid up and down through your folds.

“Are you always this wet?” Mando asked.

You took a second to answer, opening your eyes and finally shaking your head.

His finger rubbed upwards against your clit, making your legs clamp around him.

“Ah ah, open up.” He encouraged.

You let your bent legs relax, the apex of your thighs widening as he pushed a finger into you.

“Good girl.” The Mandalorian spoke softly, pushing his finger inside until he could feel your g-spot. He curled his finger slightly, letting the rough pad of his fingertip graze against that special place inside you.

You couldn’t help the whine that escaped you, your eyes rolling back into your head.

He continued his ministrations, making your head spin when he pushed a second finger inside. You clamped down around his digits, making a groan come through the helmet.

He pulled his fingers out of you suddenly, bringing them to your lips. You froze for a moment.

He tilted his helmet just slightly, a silent “do it.”

You let your jaw drop and take his slick fingers into your mouth, sucking on them, licking them and swirling your tongue around them, moaning as you tasted yourself.

He pulls his fingers from your mouth after you sufficiently cleaned them, groping your left breast as you feel his hardness press against you.

You hear him groan as his hips push into yours, and you swear to your maker it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.

You gasp as he grips the fabric of your bra cup and yanks it down before grabbing your bare breast with his large hand. He cups it for a moment before moving to rub his thumb over your hardened nipple.

“Mando…” you trail off, watching him intently. You could tell that getting other people off, got him off. You wished he’d take off the damn helmet, put his mouth on you somewhere. Or just put his cock in you already.

Like he read your mind, he pulled back just enough to push the front of his pants down. He pulled out his cock and you practically choked on air at the sight of it.

It was thick, had to be 7 or 8 inches, the head was a deep pink and a bead of precum lingered at his slit. He pulled your panties to the side once more, lining up with your entrance.

He stared down at where his dick met your pussy as he pushed inside. “Such a good girl. Taking my cock.” He muttered, breathless.

You whined in response, breathing hard enough you thought you might fog up his helmet if he were any closer.

Once he was fully seated inside of you, he pulled back out with a slow drag, then back in a little faster this time.

You grabbed the armor over his shoulders, wishing there was skin for you to touch or dig your nails into.

The Mandalorian watched himself pull in and out of you, your juices soaking him so he could move in and out of you easier, faster.

Soon, he was fucking you into the mattress, helmet close to your face. And you were, in fact, fogging up the outside of it (about where his mouth and chin would be).

“F- feel so fu- fucking good.” He stutters, angling his hips to get even deeper inside of you. All the while, his hand finds its way between your legs again, rough thumb rubbing over your clit.

“Please.” You gasp.

“Tell me what you want.” He orders.

“More.” Your hand reaches down to press his thumb harder into your clit.

He obliges, rubbing circles against you hard enough to make your eyes cross.

You arch your back as your climax quickly approaches, the cold beskar on his torso pressing against your stomach.

“M- Mando, gonna cum-“ you barely get the words out before your orgasm rips through you like lightning.

“Ahh, good girl. Fuck, such. A. Good. Girl.” He emphasizes each word with a hard thrust into you and you’re certain you black out for a moment.

When you come to, he’s still fucking you hard, thumb on your pleasure button like before. He was relentless and you knew you were going to cum again.

“Almost. There.” He groans.

You nod in agreement, unable to form any words as you wipe sweat off the side of your face.

Suddenly, his cock is twitching, shooting ropes of cum deep into you as he fucking whines.

This tips you over the edge once more and you’re nearly screaming, eyes squeezed shut as you spasm around him.

He keeps thrusting for a good 10-20 seconds before slowing to a stop. He keeps his dick inside of you for a few minutes as it softens, finally pulling out with a groan.

He’s breathing hard through the modulator as he scoots back and stands up from the bed, tucking himself back into his pants.

He faces you and clears his throat. “Thank you.” He grabs his gloves, and as quickly as he came, he was gone. He shuts the door behind himself, leaving you there breathless and leaking his cum.

You hoped he’d come back.

[fanfuckingfic]

For the smut prompts! How about #27 “I just want to please you” with Din!

Oh god, Din would. You're so right.

I was feeling a little more inexperienced!Din action for this one, so here is my humble offering. Consider this a sequel of sorts, but you don't have to read that if you don't want to.

|| Soft Moments 2 ||

Prompt List - send me a number and a character, and I'll try to write something! Prompt #27: 'I just want to please you.'

Masterlist Follow @jazzelsaur-writes and turn on notifications to see when I post new stuff!

Paring: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x GN!Reader (same pairing from this kinktober fic, but not necessary to read in order to enjoy this one). Word Count: 1,086ish Warnings: NSFW; Smut; the helmet comes off (but they're in the dark); kissing; a little dry humping; Din gets you off with his hand; come tasting; lots of general softness. A/N: Not beta'd. Written into Tumblr and yeeted out for your enjoyment. Still working on finding my voice for Din, but I want to give this man everything, so please bear with me.

*

Time moves differently in space.

You're not sure how long you've been cramming yourself into Din's bunk each night, sipping on each others' lips and grinding your bodies together until you both see stars, but it's been long enough that you crave more.

You think Din might, too.

His hands have gotten braver. He's let them rove the planes of your body, even slipping them under the hem of your shirt, his fingertips brushing along your hips and sides. You couldn't get over their softness, those orange-tipped gloves protecting him from the harsh outside world.

In here, though—this cramped metal cubby-turned-love-nest—he can be as soft as he'd like. And you're all too willing to encourage it.

He's tracing a pattern into the sensitive skin on your lower back, curious little circles he uses to traverse every part of you he can reach. His kiss slows, syrupy and lazy and sweet—he's gotten so good at kissing you, discovering all the ways you like it with his soft, effortless grace—and when you cup his stubbled jaw to deepen it, he responds in kind. His tongue glides over yours, plush lips slotting firmly against your own, and your hips rut into his beyond your control.

You swallow his groan like someone who hasn't had water in days.

His hand squeezes at your hip, eager with an edge of desperation, his pinky barely sliding under the elastic of your pants. Your surprised gasp stops him in his tracks.

"Sorry, I should've asked," he starts, his hand a second from pulling away. You settle yours over it, keeping him in place.

"You don't have to ask, Din. I'll take whatever you give."

"I don't want to harm you," he whispers, his hand as still and sturdy as beskar, though he makes no attempt to remove it. "I just want to please you."

His raspy confession sounds like hurt wrapped in hope. Your Mandalorian has doled out far more pain than pleasure throughout his hard life, which makes these moments with him all the more cherishable.

Your thumb strokes his arousal-warmed cheek, and you smile into a kiss so he can feel it.

"You won't hurt me. I promise."

Din sighs a relieved breath, washing warm and sweetly over your face.

"Yeah?"

You nod. "Yeah. You can touch me as much as you'd like."

Din's forehead presses to yours, a low rumble of Maker reverberating off the bunk walls. You hear him swallow, gathering courage on his tongue before his ring, middle, and forefinger follow the same path as his pinky under your waistband. Collectively, you hold your breath until his hand glides to where you've ached for his touch for ages, burying a pleasured groan into his mouth when he reaches his destination.

Warmth washes up your spine in rolling waves, an ocean on fire, as Din's hand slowly discovers how to draw more noises from your lips. He's careful but curious, exploring first with his fingertips, then his palm, and finally—finally—his entire hand.

He takes his time, his hand drawing heat across your body as he works and learns you, your skin breaking out in pleasured goosebumps. Clumsily, you attempt to reach for him to reciprocate, but a protest catches in his throat.

"No, just you right now. I won't be able to focus if you…" he trails off, shuddering at even the thought of you returning the favor, and you tuck the idea away for another night like this.

"Just this is good," you hum, pleased, trailing your fingers to card through his hair.

"Yeah?"

"Mm, yeah," you answer, nodding into a kiss. You swear his chest puffs up, and his hand moves more confidently, blurring your mind with pleasure. "Oh, Maker, Din–" you bite off, your face sinking to press into his broad chest.

You breathe him in—the metallic tang of beskar, the musk of leather, the sweetness of his skin—groaning out his name once more when he finds the perfect rhythm.

"Just like that." Your hips buck into his hand, sparking white-hot arousal through your belly, a coil poised to unfurl and spread like wildfire.

"I'm close," you whimper, fingertips tugging his curls. Din growls, smashing his lips to yours in a sloppy, desperate kiss—more desperate than ever—his hand working you in earnest. You gasp into his mouth, your shared breath sharp and searing, crackling like a blaster charge through the atmosphere, pleasured tension building within your body.

Din's pleading whine woven onto your tongue tips you over the edge.

Stars spark behind your eyelids, pleasure blinding all your senses to just the fiery heat coursing through your blood, winding and weaving and curling to your toes. Your breath catches in your chest, Din's name snagging on your tongue, his lips spilling gentle praise into the tiny space between your heated faces.

Pleasure flows, each wave weaker than the last, settling into a gentle, pleasing warmth akin to sitting fireside. Din's learned your body well, even while taking things so slow, and he knows exactly when to pull his hand away to prevent your pleasure from twisting into pain.

His competence and confidence in this underdeveloped skillset of his advances with each passing day, just as you knew it would.

But your Mandalorian is full of surprises.

His groan is positively lewd as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, a depraved slurping sound bouncing off the durasteel.

He's tasting you.

Shit.

His groan deepens, and his hips rut desperately into yours; your pleasure-soaked mind is too slow, and it isn't until he moans your name around his fingers that you realize he's about to come just from tasting you.

His hips stall against yours, coming with a foreign swear before his breath sucks in around his fingers, and you coax him through it, your fingertips stroking his sweat-damped strands off his forehead. His hips jolt as pleasure wracks his body, and you know you'll think about this moment for the rest of your life.

When he catches his breath, you hear his fingers pop from his mouth, his voice raspy from use.

"I didn't know you'd taste so good," he admits, sounding awe-struck.

"I bet you'd taste good, too," you whisper, leaning in to kiss him and chase the taste of yourself on his lips. Din whimpers at the prospect, his mind considering the thought before breathing a heavy, satisfied sigh.

"I suppose you'll have to find out."

You laugh into his shoulder, planting your lips there with a pleased hum.

"I suppose I will."

*

A/N: I actually didn't intend for this to get as horny as it did, but... I'm not sorry.

[fanfuckingfic]

Losing you nearly

Rating: R. We are going dark places here today. And then very, very soft places. Summary: After getting attacked out of the blue, your usually so stoic Mandalorian loses all composure as he fears for your survival. A/N: This was a request that I really loved and I enjoyed writing this a lot. I tried my best to get in all the feelings, so you're in for a rollercoaster. Warnings: Blood, bit of gore(?), panic, anxiety, near death experience, violence, tooth rotting - sweetness “Something isn’t right.” You wouldn’t have to have said it. The second Din turned to look at you he knew. Your sweet and soft smile had turned to the collected and sinister look that you had when you went to hunt with him. Calculating, cold and this time…there was that small crease between your eyebrows. Worry. Maybe even Fear.

Din didn’t think a woman like you would fear anything. But there you were, next to him looking scared. It physically hurt him. Like a Mudhorn had rammed him in the gut. Immediately, his face mirrored yours underneath the helmet. He didn’t want you to feel scared. Ever. Not around him. Another immediate reaction was his motions, that he followed through automatically. His right hand wandered to his holster, a deep breath in, squaring his broad shoulders, quickly scanning the area. Nothing. Calm. No weapons. Thermal scan…nothing. A crying Rodian kid on the corner. Nothing. Empty. He relaxed. Only slightly. Ever so slightly, before turning to you again. Taking a step towards you he had realized that you had come closer as well, nearly pressed up against his beskar armor and thus he stumbled into you, his hand automatically reaching to hold you. You didn’t mind the closeness. Not at all. Quite the contrary, you seemed as if you wanted to crawl underneath the armor with him. He’d never quite seen you like that. You were mostly a stoic yourself, he supposed it was normal. Most Jedi he had met had shown similar behavior, although you had become more and more open with him during your months together. Now you were actively seeking contact and he found himself enjoying that. It flustered him - but in a way that he very much enjoyed. You looked beautiful today. You always did, but even more so today. Basking in the sun, wearing a silken beige dress, your hair worn open. He loved it when your hair fell freely over your wonderful soft shoulders, down the curve of your breasts and- He concentrated, looking up again. The market was…quiet. It was Nevarro…what was supposed to happen? Since Cara had cleaned the place out, it was too comfortable and safe if anything. Slow rustling, all kinds of species. All kinds of soft flowers and spices and fabrics and food stored in the middle of the street in brightly painted vending trucks. Kids running through the alley, laughing away happily. It was simply put - nice. No wonder you decided against taking your saber out today. After he had assured you, that this was the first really safe place you visited after weeks of danger, you had dressed comfortably and let your hair flow a bit. Grogu now leaned out of his newly built hovering pram, his little hands grasping the edge, staring out with his big brown eyes. Mando smiled softly at him. Not that the kid could ever see, but somehow the Mandalorian was sure that he noticed none the less. You were upset enough. No need to get the kid scared too. He couldn’t calm him however. Those big eyes were trained on his Master and his ears quickly lowered in worry as he seemingly noticed your state. Din still held you tightly, his hand resting on your hip. As long as you didn’t complain he surely wouldn’t give up on the touch. You were usually so careful to stay at a professional distance - it was a rare occurrence to be able to touch you, he wouldn’t let that opportunity slip. He noticed you pressing up even more against him. Backing up into him, your back now nearly flushed against his metal clad chest. He felt the need to comfort you. “I scanned the place. No fire weapons. All is fine.”, he spoke, slowly. You were so close a whisper would do - but he tried to speak in a normal tone, tried to assure you you were safe. A Devaronian suddenly stood before you, glaring down at the three of you and you excused yourself from standing in the middle of the road. With a soft sigh you moved to the left, then gestured for the Mandolorian behind you to do the same. No need to have that conversation all out in the open. Mando tilted his head, unhappy with your departing form. Whatever had triggered the sudden fear in you, it was persistent. You turned your head up to look over your shoulder, right into his Visor. “It’s a tingle. Something is wrong…we shouldn’t be here.”, you insisted. Your face was so close. That Din couldn’t think about much more than that in that very moment. Yet there was still that worry on your

features. “Look around. We’re in Navarro. Things are fine. I have friends here. It’s midday. The people move slowly. All is good, Jedi.”, he tried again. Voice calm, deep and sedative. You sighted. You could see all that yourself. But the force did not lie to you. You felt it shivering through you. It was wild, stirred, as if screaming at you to leave. To run while you could. Anxiety washed over you in waves. Your heart began hammering, your pupils diluting slightly, your breath becoming erratic….your stomach hurt. Noticing that your panic only seemed to increase, he decided to be a bit more direct. “Lady Jedi….my Jedi…”, Mando spoke suddenly. It was with a deep sigh that his touch then graced your skin. His hand traveled from your hip to your shoulder. Both hands resting on your shoulders now, turning you in his grasp to look at him. Standing an arms length apart, he softly tilted his head. He watched you for a little while. Your hands ever so slightly forming fists, your whole stance tense, your chest moving in a fast and uneasy rhythm that he wasn’t at all used to from you. Cyar’ika…my love, my darling jedi, his mind wandered at the sight before him. “Have I ever not protected you? Calm down. All is well.”, he tried again. Your eyes searched for his. The sinister crease on your forehead slowly merging into a worried frown. “Have my abilities ever failed us?”, you asked in return. He sighted, a by now very known, modulated slow sigh. No. They never have. You’d always been right in some way. “What do you expect us to do?”, he asked. He knew he lost this quarrel. He always would. If you set your mind on something in that stubborn pretty head of yours, you would go through with it - and he could never bring himself to deny you. “You do remember you wanted to come here to get supplies before we leave?”, he reminded you, nudging his helmet forward. He was right. You exhaled shakily, turning your head away from his pretty visor. Since when had you begun thinking of his helmet as pretty? Have you been standing this close the whole time? Your gaze traveled slowly. From His helmet over his strong arms. His hands were warm as he held you, even through the leather. Before his broad beskar frame you did feel safe….at least in a way. Still, the force was uneven. Restless around you. You grit your teeth together. A pressed sigh escaped you as you nodded slowly. “You are right…still…finish the shopping list and let me take the kid and head back to the ship, or to Cara, or Greef alright? What do you say? No trouble in that. Maybe I just…caught a fever. Who knows.”, you suggested to him, looking straight into where you always supposed his eyes were. You knew he wouldn’t deny you. For whatever reason, the broad strong Mandalorian before you had a soft spot for you and your judgment. Maybe because of your teacher-position to his Foundling, only the Maker knew. “Yeah…You know what. That’s okay. You go lay down please. Get some rest. Drink something. Maybe it’s the sun. It’s hot today.”, he approved, nodding softly. His hands fell from your shoulders and you smiled. Softly. You turned to your left, bowing down ever so slightly. Grogu’s eyes widened in surprised joy, squealing in happiness as you lifted him out of his little crib. Holding the child close, you couldn’t help but to smile softly. Mando threw you a surprised look. As surprised as a helmet could look at you. You didn’t answer him, just pressed the Kid against your chest and smirked playfully. “You could leave him with me.”, he proposed. “No. Don’t feel like it.”, you answered. “You could just leave him in the hovering pram.”, Din gestured. You shrugged, your lips pursed inquisitively. Grogu turned his head to his father also, his little mouth still turned to a toothy smile. “You start to like him.”, he challenged, humor evident in his tone. Maker you looked lovely with his foundling pressed up against you. So motherly, so womanly. Gorgeous. “I always liked him. He’s my little Student.”, you mocked, turning your head to nuzzle the

kids face, “my teeny tiny Padawan.” How I wish that were me. Little lucky womb rat you. - the Mandalorian before you puzzled, before nodding. Grogu squealed, looking straight at him. Once again giving the man the feeling that the little one could read his mind. Mando chuckled softly before shaking his head and turning around. Throwing one last look over his shoulder to watch after you two filled his usually so guarded heart with a pleasant warmth. Wizard. What a beautiful thing you were. With his happily squealing Foundling in your arms. Your light dress was long enough to nearly graze the ground, yet elegantly clung to the curves on your body. Your lovely wonderful body that often rested so beautifully on the seat in his cockpit, or stood so strongly next to him when you covered him on the field. He was truly blessed to have you close. Even though you would probably never be more to him than his foundlings teacher, it was sweet serenity to have you nearby for those last few months. He had enjoyed every minute of it. Still did. Always would. Your thoughts haven’t been that sweet, as you wandered through the small crowd on the street. Your heart still wasn’t any calmer. Your body still slightly tense. There had to be something to keep you from being so anxious. It wasn't normal and you did not enjoy it in the slightest. So you started whispering to the kid. “Come on Grogu. You feel it too, do you not? Danger looming. Something is off. Your Buir can’t convince me otherwise and still - excuse me - He does calm me a bit…”, you were interrupted as a large hand got hold of your shoulder. “Oh no no no, pretty thing.” The voice sent shivers down your spine. Dark and deep and…with mal intentions. The Force seemed to shudder around it. The danger, whatever it turned out to be, had been closer than you planned for it to be. “Excuse me.”, it spoke again. Your mind raced. So did your heart. It would be smarter not to turn around. The child was pressed to your front. You wouldn’t want him between the stranger and you, so you turned your head. Giving the man that had a hold on you a sly glance over your shoulder. It was the Devaronian, that you had made space for earlier. Tall. Tall. And very broad. Strong. Too strong for even you. Thinking fast, you assessed the situation. You weren’t armed. You had counted on the Mandalorian not leaving your side. And for there to be no trouble on a friendly planet like Nevarro. You could force push him. Then run for it. Devaronian’s had a reputation to be slower than humans. Maybe there was no trouble at all. Oh but there was. You knew there was. Think. Think. “A shame. Could’ve sold you. I like Twi’leks better…but I’d make a damn sweet exception for you.”, he rasped on. You glared. Still unsure on how to handle it. Mind tricks could work. Maybe. It was your best chance. Priority number one was to protect the little Padawan in your arms. “Oh you wouldn’t want me. You’ll let me go.” Your voice was sweet as honey as you spoke. Your hand gesturing a small circle as you tried to force your wish onto his desires. “No. Not here for you. I’m here for the Quarry.”, he grinned, his hand tightening on your shoulder, painfully. You jerked. The pain was horrid. The man was at least twice your size and his hand damn near broke your shoulder into splinters with a light squeeze. And then it happened. Too fast. Way too fast. But Jedi reflexes were a curious thing. And seemingly something the Devaronian did not know about. No wonder Mando did not find anything as he had scanned the place. A Devaronian was in no need for a blaster. And as he had forcefully pushed you around, it had been a simple knife that was aimed for the child. The force spoke to you. Moved through you and you pushed Grogu aside, pressing him to your left instead. A simple knife that was, thanks to your reflexes, now stuck to the hilt underneath your ribs. You could feel it. Plunged deep inside you. Your breath hitched. Eyes wide. Under your ribs up to…did he puncture your lungs? Your heart

had stopped beating. Out of shock? Yes Breathe. You can breathe. Lungs are fine. Stomach isn’t. Rib isn’t. Your mind raced.

He held you close. You could feel his breath on your cheek as he spoke through gritted teeth. “Damn Mando’s. Thought they were smart. But here that idiot is. Leaving his little Lady to carry a quarry that the empire pays so very much for. “ It didn’t hurt. Not at first. The pain didn’t immediately shoot through you. In this very second the air stood still. The people had stopped moving and there was only you, the force and the child, safely tucked into your other arm. He had aimed for Grogu. Clearly only needed him dead. Idiot. The Empire wouldn’t want him dead. Don’t think about that now. Not now. Your heart stood near still as you breathed slowly. Concentrating on your training. On gathering yourself. On staying calm. Now came the pain. There it was. Loud and nearly unbearable. You saw stars and only the low squeal to your left brought you pack to your senses. Enough to move enough to… “Oh…”, you whispered. Slowly lifting your head from the bloody mess that was your stomach. When he looked into your pained and glaring eyes, he saw only amber brimming in them. Trust in the force. And if the force was a little bit dark in you today? So be it. “I’m far from a ‘little Lady”, you now hissed through gritted teeth. There it was again. Priority Number one. Protect the Padawan. In an instant your own small hand had gotten hold of the knife's handle, forcefully pulling it back, ripping it out from underneath your flesh. You couldn’t stop the low cry that escaped you as you did, but there was something holding you up. Oh the force. Strong. Strong through you. Flowing through your veins. Holding you up. You had never felt it that way. Not so…not like this. Powerful, steady and…Angry. So Angry. Hateful even. Your eyes glowing in a fiery amber you stared at your reflection in the bloodied knife, close to losing consciousness. “And nobody touches my Padawan.”, you noticed yourself threaten now. As if it was the force that spoke through you. Not yourself at all. Your senses returned. Clarity returned. Protect the Padawan. In a swift motion you swung the knife, plunging it deep into the Devaronians chest. A damn shame you were to small to reach his throat. It wouldn’t stop him for long. But it made him stumble in shock. Long enough for you to gather all strength you had left to stand upright, focus and - You pushed. Not physically. But through the force. Stronger than you probably had ever before. You saw the Man before you kicked off his feet. The invisible force pushed him further away until he hit the next possible brick wall, a good few feet to your side. That damn race was near indestructible but the house definitely looked like it took some sweet damage. The loud thud echoed through the street immediately , making heads turn and the air stand still for a moment. The rustling stopped, the voices stopped, Kids stopped in their play. And then you took your chance. A deep breath, holding Grogu close, trying to stay upright. You couldn’t run. Not after being injured that much. So you did the best thing you could do. “MANDO.” It was a horrid scream really. Desperate. Mortal agony sounding terrifyingly frail as your usually so serene and calm voice broke away mid word, ripping through the absolute silence - like the knife that had ripped through your flesh. And before you had time to do any more, you felt strong hands on you. Protect the Padawan. “Nasty Bitch.”, the Devaronian hissed. The Pain in his voice filled you with a ping of pride, just until he threw you like a ragdoll through the street. You didn’t remember much. Hit your head. Hard. On the gravel. Rolling on the ground. Holding Grogu close and tight, keeping the damage off of him. Skin ripped open by the gravel. You had come to a stop laying flat on the ground, faced down. Felt gravel on your forehead as you tried your best to push yourself up to all fours. Blood on the ground, blood on your hand. Blood on your head, running into your eye. Moaning in pain. Maker the pain. Your hitched breath. That impact had

taken the air straight from your lungs. Your stomach was bleeding like crazy. Poor kid. Had to witness that. “Protect the Padawan. “ This time you’d whispered it to yourself. A reminder. An agenda. Carefully you’d let go of Grogu, setting him unto the ground beneath you.

His squeal tortured you. Hurt more than the wounds. “I’m sorry. I’m fine don’t you worry about me.”, you muttered, tasting blood in your mouth as you did. You had made it onto all fours. Looking down at the small child beneath you. All you saw was blurry. But he seemed fine. He was fine. Seemingly you caught all the damage. You did good. You smiled. A small and frail smile. But proud. Protect the Padawan. Danger is still present. You pushed yourself up. No. That didn’t work. Your muscles gave in immediately and you slumped back down again. Maker your head. The world seemed to spin around you, your head thrumming with the worst migraine you ever had. Your breath was shallow now. You were losing blood. Fast….and your head, your damn head. Protect the… You tried again. Tried at least to look forward, There he was. Big and broody. Coming straight for you again. You must’ve looked horrid. Head bloody, dress soaked in red, skin ripped open, dust covered. You twisted to the Side, pushing the curious child back behind you. Don’t let him get near the Child. Protect the Child. Protect… You tried to look up at the huge figure before you. To glare at him as he rolled his shoulder back, his teeth gritted, hand balling into a fist. You breathed hard. Trying to breathe at all. If that fist hit your head then that ugly Devaronian would be the last thing you saw. The desire to turn away flooded through you. The last thing you wanted to see…maybe the sky…the child? No you couldn’t look at the child. You couldn’t have the child watch as yet another of it’s Master got killed right in front of it. And before any of that could happen. Before anything touched you. There was a flash of shiny and perfect silver. A breath of air. A familiar Visor. And finally, darkness overcame you.

The first thing you noticed as you regained consciousness was the pain. Dull. But…manageable? A hand reached to your head. Your thrumming and horrid head. The head was still bad. Still Horrid. Your vision still blurry. And…different. Lost one eye? Or just patched up? You moaned softly, doing your best to push yourself up and have a look around. You spotted Cara. Sitting at the back of a dimly lit room. Her usual look, sitting wide legged. It was a bit blurry to see but she did have streaks of blood or mud on her face. You guessed the former. You were glad to see her. A bit Anxious not to see the Mandalorian, but he was most likely taking care of… “Is the child safe?”, you quickly asked, voice so hoarse you had to try a second time. Cara watched you for a while. Then she sighted and simply nodded. “You..shouldn’t be up yet. But it’s good to see you toughing it out, Lady.”, she threw you a small reassuring smile. Why didn’t she get up? Why didn’t she come over? She just sat there. Kind of weary, kind of tense. Hands folded between her legs, looking not at you, but past you. Feeling stiff but mostly alright, the memories came back to you. Slowly. You still wore the same dress. The now brown stain of blood covered nearly the whole stomach and chest area. The fabric was cut open. Carefully you drifted your hand over your stomach. The wound was completely closed. “I see the child put it’s hands on me…or did anyone else magically develop healing powers?”, you asked, lifting a brow. Anyone else....someone else quickly flooded your senses. “Is the Mandalorian alright?”, you quickly followed up. Cara tried not to chuckle. You could sense through the force that she was in a sorry state though. She was extremely weary. Just very…aware. What else did you feel? Your connection to the force seemed unstable. It ached. Like a bad bruise. Or a strained muscle... You had definitely overworked yourself by throwing that Devaronian. Speaking of - what had become of the beast? Even for Din, Cara and some help he must’ve been hard to put down. You reached out again. Slowly and carefully. Not over doing it. There was something…dark. Known. But Dark. All dark side really. Anger and Hatred and Selfhatred and Fear and Attachment. Force…you had been pretty lost there for a moment. But it was for your Padawan. It was to protect, right? You wouldn’t just turn because of some minor situation like that, right? You’re eyes still had their perfectly natural hue, no amber glow…right? You needed to know. And since there was no mirror in sight, someone needed to tell you. “Cara…come over here please…”, you asked of her, holding a beckoning hand out as you placed your other on your aching head. Palm pressed against your forehead, head hanging slightly low. “Sorry Lady…I can’t.”, she answered. Her voice seemingly had found her strength again. She sounded much better now that she knew that you were alright. And you were. It wasn’t that bad really. You didn’t even get shot. In the end it was a knife to the stomach - which was completely healed already, thanks to your resourceful little Padawan, and a grand roll-around in some gravel- which had most likely ended in a concussion, but nothing too bad. “You…can’t?”, you asked, pushing your aching head up to look at her once again. She leaned back, arms crossed, trying to give you a small smile. It was a sad excuse for a smile really. She looked terribly tired out. “Nope.”, she answered again, with the same smile. You frowned, your confusion quickly turned to worry. “Did you get hurt?”, you quickly asked, true and honest worry in your words. Cara yet again, denied: “No i’m fine really. Apart from some bruises.” “Bruises…”, you whispered, frown on your face, confusion written all over your features, “Did you get into a fight with that Devaronian? How bad is it?” Cara leaned even further back, shaking her head. “Nope. Devaronian didn’t hit me. Didn’t get the chance.”, she shrugged, with a small sigh. You stared blankly at her. Now you were just lost. What in the

stars was going on. “Dank Farrik Dune, just please, tell me what’s going on?”, you begged, eyes gazing longingly at her. You had just noticed that you adapted your Mandalorian's speech patterns there, and cursed yourself for it. Too many questions and way to little answers from that woman. Actually - she had posed more questions for you than she had answered! She sighted, once again, shaking her head. “I can’t come closer, or over to you - because he won’t let me.”, she finally explained. Great. Another riddle. “Who. Cara.”, you pushed her, this time actually angry. This constant guessing was hurting your already dying head. She didn’t answer. Just held her hands up as in retreat, nudging her head towards…you? No, not you. Behind you. You hadn’t even thought about turning your head. Having been happy enough to see any soul sitting and waiting for you to wake up, you hadn’t expected another. But carefully turning your head, looking way beyond your shoulder, you saw him sitting at the bedside. Watching. No Guarding. The first reaction you felt was a weight that was lifted off your aching chest. How good to see him in one shiny piece. Your brows furrowed and your gaze softened. “How is Grogu?”, you asked, your voice filled with compassion and worry. A tense silence settled. Mando took his time. At first he didn’t even seem to have heard you. He sat in the darkest corner of the room. Leaned over himself, his elbows resting just above his knees as he looked at the ground. The weight was put right back on your chest. He wasn’t alright. Not at all. “Mandolorian. What happened…?”, panic settled in. Gone was the calm demeanor of your Jedi self and you felt dark swirls of the force once again swirling around you. Attachment, worry, fear. Fear. Fear. Cara already told you the kid was fine. “Where is my Pada-” “Kid’s asleep he’s…whacked but unharmed. Snoozing away. Don’t…it’s…fine.”, he finally answered, seemingly out of pity for your anxious state. It worked however. And your shoulders sank as you calmed down, breathing slower. “Oh so you can talk again, huh big guy?”, Cara challenged from across the room. You threw her a questioning look. She sounded Angry with him. Mando didn’t move an inch. He had sounded….horrible. Pained. Worked up. Shaky. “Why…what….why isn’t he letting you come to me, what…?”, you tried to gather your thoughts, gesturing between him and her before shaking your head in confusion. “Oh why won’t you tell her Mando?”, Cara spoke a big louder again, there was some hidden anger in her words. Maybe not all too hidden. Mando yet again, stoically stared at the ground, unmoving. “What is going on.”, you finally stated, completely out of it. “How long have i been under? Why are you bruised, why are you deadly quiet, Answers, now or I’ll get angry.”, you threatened, pointing first at her than at him, raising your voice ever so slightly. Ever so slightly was still a lot for a usually stoic Jedi and made the Mandalorian to your side jerk. “Well short version…our dear Mando mauled a man in the middle of my streets. Took me and two men to get him off the bastard. Not that he didn’t deserve it. He then waited for a Medic to put you back together and guarded your side like a kriffing Rancor ever since! But he can probably tell you in more detail.”, she now sighed, huffing as she got up. “Now that I know he’s back to his senses and that the killing spree’s over with, i’ll leave you to it. But if anything happens, scream. I’ll be in here in a sec.”, Cara threw both you and the man to your right a warning glare, then a small smile before she shook her head and left the room. The door resounded loudly as it was pulled close behind here. Then the silence settled. You sat still. Suddenly just as still and quiet as the man next to you. Shock flooding your system. What was he thinking? You didn’t even dare to imagine. Turning your head for the first time completely, you watched him. Sticky blood covered his beskar. It stuck to his helmet, his pauldrons, his leather

gloves were soaked in it. He sat still however. Hunched over and ever so silent. And there was only one question on your mind. “Are you okay?” Part II - A Mandalorian's Viewpoint In a book on Mandalorian culture, one that you had stored safely away it the Razor Crest, stood a nice little passage that Din Djarin hadn’t read that many night ago, when sleep did not come to him. It had struck the man in his inner most core. And the words had rang again and again as he sat there, having guarded your bedside. “In direct opposition to their infamy as a ruthless enemy, Mandalorians cherish family and shower affection upon those they love and care for. After all, ‘To protect and defend oneself along with one’s family’ is on of the Resol’nare. The Six tenets that defined what it truly meant to be a Mandalorian. Any who wished to be considered as such, was expected to abide by them.”

Din of course knew of these things. They had been taught to him, repeated over and over since he had been saved by the people that he now called his own. On this day however, he held them dearer to his heart than usual. Near meditative in his state. Repeating them to himself. Trying to find reason and meaning in what exactly had occurred. In what he had done. He was a mess, really. Loads of feelings and thoughts and reminders of his ideologies brushing through his troubled mind. As he sat. Still. Next to you. If he’d tried to bring them into order. The biggest standout would be Anger. Anger towards you. Anger towards himself. Hatred towards the bounty-hunter that had dared to touch his family. He was angry at you. Why he didn’t quite know. Maybe because you put yourself into danger. Because you put yourself between yourself and his foundling. And therein lay the conclusion. He couldn’t be angry at you. You endangered yourself - to protect his family. You did not give in and lay low - again, to protect his foundling, your student from harm. You went out there unarmed - yes, because he had promised you his protection. You strayed from him - yes…because he let you. Conclusion found. It was his fault. His and his alone. He should’ve listened to you. He should have been with you. Should have stayed closer. Damn the kriffing market or the supplies - he would never, never again let you leave. Not even slightly stray. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. He….couldn’t even look at you. There you lay. Nearly ripped to pieces in front of him. It was pure luck and skill on your part that you were alive. He’d failed you. And the child. Completely. Maker he hated himself for it. In the last hours he’d wanted nothing more than to rip the helmet off his head and throw it away forever. He wasn’t worth the Beskar. He wasn’t worthy of being a Mandalorian. He was a coward, a failure. He was worse than…than…anyone really. What could he even do? He’d didn’t just let you get hurt. You nearly got killed. Came so close to it. And he…He’d just lost it. Din looked down at the ground beneath him. A small puddle of blood gathered beneath his feet, on the stony ground of the darkened room. It seemed black in the bit of light that trickled through the drawn curtains. He had drawn them close himself. You had nearly had your skull cracked open. He could only imagine that you wouldn’t enjoy the bright afternoon sun when you woke up. If you woke up. His hands clenched into fists again, his whole body tensed. Playing the memory over and over again. The second that his heart had stopped beating. He was so sure that he’d lost you right then and there. It was his absolute worst nightmare come true to see you…see you - he couldn’t. The images kept crawling into his head and he could neither stop them nor endure them. Just as he could not stop himself from hitting the Devaronian again and again and again until he saw the Beskar plate on his hand stuck in nothing but red mush as three people forcefully pulled him from the corpse. He hadn’t lost himself like that in…maybe never. He used to be like it. A long time ago. Rougher. Cruel even. But never this. Never like today. It was fueled by fear and Anxiety and loss and Sadness and hatred. So much Anger flowing through him. Nobody got to even touch you or the child. Seeing you laying on the gravel ground, completely still, your own blood engulfing you made him…what did it make him? Unhinged? Possessed?’ He didn’t know. To be quite honest he didn’t really remember much. He wanted to marry you. He loved you. To build a future with you. To life like he had always dreamed of. With a clan and a destiny of his own and that man had taken it all from him. His ambitions, his dreams, his hopes. All gone in one, horrid scream that still made his hair stand up and his stomach turn in a way that nearly got him to choke. So he remembered that. Your scream. Your blood curdling and horrified scream for help. Mando. It would have been the last of your words. And if

he had found you and the child dead after his rampage, if he would have been too late - he knew that it would have been the last thing he heard as well. He would’ve rather died an honorable warrior's death with his own knife plunged right beneath bis beskar, than to live with the shame of having his family killed right before him. Dark. Dark thoughts. Dark thought was all he had had in these last hours. It was dark thoughts that made him run towards you and the child. Dark thoughts that brought him to maim and murder the man that had hurt the two of you with his bare hands. Dark thoughts and dark places. But yet again he reminded himself of his tenet. To clear himself of the guild of it all. “To protect one’s family.” The foundling was his family. And you…you were supposed to be his family. One day. He wished for nothing more than to call the two of you his. Then to have the Child decide against a Master and stay with you. Than you to stay with him. To speak the vows that would bind you. So what else was he supposed to do? He had gone a bit far. That was certain. He had fought off Cara and the boys when they tried to haul him back, off that dreaded corpse. He had not spoken a word after it all. Couldn’t bring himself to. Not until he knew you would wake. Not until he knew you would be fine. If both of you would’ve died, his decision would have been made for him. But Grogu was fine. He was well. How you did so good in protecting him, he did not know. He only knew his love for you was absolute. You were strong, striking and a Mandalorian at heart. You had put your life up for a foundling. And he knew he would never love another. Never. Not when he had known you. Noone would ever rival you. And if he had lost you… A groan escaped him, his hands reaching for his helmet. His muscles tense. His whole body ached and yet the pain was nowhere near to what you must feel. To what you endured. To see that monster put it’s hands on you. You looked so small. So fragile in that moment. Fragile was a curse word in Mando’a. But you weren’t fragile in a sense of being weak. You were beautifully fragile around him, because you allowed him to be your armor. And he hadn’t been there. And then you had woken up. Only hours after it all had happened. Only hours after he had kneeled on the street, holding you in his arms, pressing your near lifeless body against his as he again and again tried to wake you. Pressing his helmet up against your forehead, whispering to you as tears streamed down his cheeks, as your blood soaked his clothing. It was the first time after Karga had nearly lost his arm, that he was truly glad for his foundlings healing abilities. Maker knows if you had survived that stomach wound without the little one. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you. He only saw his failure. Din didn’t even know if he could ever look at you again. To see the Medics rush in and handle you like a lifeless doll on that table made him dizzy. He remembered needing to crash into a wall to hold him up. He never had a problem with blood. Never with gore or with anything. He had cut of limbs and Heads and what he had done to the Devaronian had been far worse and still. The sight of you weakened him. You. Cara had tried to usher him into the next room, or to hold the child and just move away but he couldn’t. He took his exhausted little Kid in his hands and finally turned away to breathe. His helmet resting against the far wall. Cara didn’t need to see his face to have known in what immense pain Din had been. She could basically watch him being eaten alive. But here you were. Alive and well. Worrying for the child's safety still and for his. And after all you had been through. You had asked him, him of all people: “Are you okay?” It made him tense up. Salty tears running down his cheeks and burning in his eyes as he held his helmet in his hands once again. He was a failure. An absolute and utter failure. He should be the strong one. He should be in control, he should be there for you.

Din concentrated. He knew he was strong, he knew he could do this. All his life he had trained to be not just a murderous weapon but Strong. It was the Way. Breathe. For her. You had questions. Start there. “How long have i been under? Why are you bruised, why are you deadly quiet, Answers, now or I’ll get angry” - you had said. So he answered. “I…you were under for….a few hours. Two. I think.”, he muttered. Even through the Modulator he sounded horrid. Shaky and like he’d just cried his eyes out. Well he was in fact, Still crying his eyes out but what gives. “Cara was bruised because she tried to get me to stop. I am deadly quiet because…”, he fell silent. He knew you were watching him. Felt your inquisitive gaze on him, He felt nothing short of awful. “Because you deserve this helmet, this armor more than me. Because I feel unworthy.” He heard your soft sigh. It felt good to have spoken the truth. Good to have that off his chest. “Mandalorian…come over here please…”, was all you answered. Din closed his eyes as he heard your voice. You sounded better than he thought you would. Much better. Calm again. Still he couldn’t. He wouldn’t be able to look at you, not in this state not while- “Please. I beg you.” Din noticed his hands trembling. Who was he, if he denied you. Without being able to stop himself he had gotten up. Your eyes still on him. His eyes as well. He tried his best to look straight down. At his own, blood smeared and impure armor that didn’t seem so shiny anymore. It wasn’t far to the bed from where he had sat. Two uncertain steps and he already felt your hand reaching for his. He wanted to pull back he needed to pull back but - Yet again he couldn’t. Staring down at your hand, that looked so very small as it held his, your thump lovingly brushing over his bloodied gloved knuckles. You so rarely touched him. This time his enjoyment seemed bittersweet however. “You’ll get your hands dirty on me.”, he rasped. Now he just sounded defeated. Dark, deep voice so very worn out, and sluggish. “I’m plenty dirty myself.”, you muttered, watching up into his visor, that was still trained on your hands. He barely noticed that you pulled up the blanket that had covered your lap. The white fabric suddenly blinded his vision. “What are you-” “Hold still…”, you muttered back. As you finally pulled back, he watched you perform the same act on his breastplate. You were cleaning him up. You then took the fabric away from him, resting it back on your lap. It was red and brown from the residue and his vision now slightly better, but more…smudged. “Why are you cleaning me up.”, there was pure confusion in his voice. Sad and tired confusion, you now worked to run your hands up his left forearm. There were bloody marks on your arms and hands were you had met the gravel. It made him flinch to see them. Every bit of pain you felt, he felt at least tenfold. “May I?”, you asked tenderly. “Again, what are you…” “I take that as a yes.”, you simply interrupted him, carefully taking off his glove. First the left, then the right. “Thought so…”, you whispered, as you saw the damage. Leather or not his knuckles were bleeding badly. The skin rubbed off painfully, most likely from hitting a broader man repeatedly. But you just guessed that. One of your hands left his. You felt up your head, noticing the bandage that was wrapped around it. “Don’t - Dank ferrik woman!”, you heard him complain as you opened the bandage. It softly fell from your head and landed on your shoulders, where you quickly detangled it from your head, hair and neck and gathered it in your free hand. “I’m fine…It’s just a concussion…I probably looked stupid with it around my head anyways.” you explained, a small gentle smile on your lips. Mando watched in disgrace as you lightly patted blood and skin away, caring so lovingly for his wounds. Din didn’t understand why you wasted your energy on him. Yet he couldn’t pull his hand away either. He wanted you to touch him. He wanted to touch you. To hold you close. To

shed the armor, pull you into his grasp and never let any danger come close to you ever again. “You don’t look at me, Mandalorian.”, you spoke softly. It was an accusation more than it was a observation. It still made him feel horrible. Made him feel disgraceful and guilty. “I can’t.”, he simply answered. Slowly. Modulated voice completely still. He was so very thankful that the helmet covered the worst of his weakness. “Do I look that horrid?”, you had asked, sadness filling your voice, “Do I need a helmet from now on? Maybe I’ll get a silver one. We could match.”, you tried to make light. Obviously. But he still heard your voice break slightly. It was that moment exactly that he had to look up. He had to. No matter how much pain it would deal him, he had to at least be that respectful. You cried. A silent tear rolling down your cheek. Washing away blood and dust. Yet your expression seemed calm otherwise. You were once again, being so brave for him. So steady. He couldn’t but reach out to you. Feeling his own tears yet again welling up behind the helmet. As his hand touched your cheek, you immediately leaned into him. His breath stopped there for a second. “Gar mesh’la.”, he whispered. Your cheek against his palm, you closed your eyes and he watched you, watched you in utter awe. Watched you like you were his life , like you were the stars and the moons and the sun and he couldn’t but smile. For the first time in hours he smiled at that simple gesture. At the simply touch of his skin against yours, only hours after he had thought to have lost you and the child forever. You exhaled shakily, opening your eyes again, to look into his visor. “Speak basic with me, Dear Mandalorian. My head hurts to much to deal with Mando’a at the moment”, you explained softly, a lazy smile on your lips. He smiled as well. Nodding his head. “I said you don’t look horrid. Not at all.”, he answered you. You nodded in return. Your hand reaching for his, thump running over the scarred back of it. Enjoying the feeling of his skin on yours as you absent mindedly stared at his helmet. A realization came upon you. He could see it clearly reflected in your gaze. And when you spoke the words, it send shivers down his spine. “You saved my life. Mandalorian. I owe you a life-debt” The words were muttered. Softly and with a hint of precaution, as your big and lovely eyes innocently looked up into his. You looked at him as if you had just said yes to a marriage. Full of expectation and delight and a hint of fear. And yet… “A…life-debt?”, Mando asked. …he didn’t know what to do with that. He started blabbering soon after, his voice agitated and at loss as he began: “I…I didn’t save you at all. I was to late. I Failed. I am a failure. You nearly got killed and I-”

You shushed him with a soft shake of your head and a light squeeze of his hand. “A Life-Debt is a promise. An…An oath. When someone saves your life you declare that you owe them to stand by their side. Knowing your lives can’t easily be disentangled anymore.”, you explained, your eyes still not leaving his. Din took a shaky breath. Did it mean what he thought it would mean? Was this a Jedi-thing? His heart began racing and his stomach dropped and yet he felt warm and glad and didn’t quite know what to do with any of it. “I…But you saved Grogu. Also. And it isn’t the first time we save anyone and-”, he tried, but your shaking head yet again brought him to silence. “It is not the same. With Grogu…yes. But mine and Grogu’s life are already entangled. I owe you. Mandalorian. Whatever you want whatever you need, only mutter the words. You have saved my life. You didn’t have to but you did. I have no idea how you took down that beast but you did…whatever it had cost you to channel the energy to do that. I…i just can’t believe it still. But it is clear that the force wills us together and -” “Hey…” It was him this time., that stopped you from rambling. You were tired. Worn out. And he would not take any advantage of that. “Lay down for now. Please. Whatever the force wills - I will you to lay low for a while.”, he encouraged you. You looked at him so differently. Not at all like he felt. Not at all like he was a failure but as if life had turned around for you. As if he was the Mandalor’ himself. The way that he usually looked at you. You still held his hand. Squeezing hard. He didn’t mind. You could break his hand and he would still be happy about the touch. “Please.”, he added. You watched him as he softly put his other hand on your shoulder, guiding your body down onto the soft pillow. You allowed him too. “Will you stay with me?" You had asked so softly. So tenderly. The words had left your lips before you could stop them. It had been your heart that just poured out of you as you looked at him like that. You regretted it immediately. You shouldn’t have been that forthcoming. You didn’t want to push him. He had already done enough and yet. When he moved, you held your breath. His hand, his rough yet warm hand had carefully made it’s way behind your neck and he leaned in now, pressing his beskar helmet to your forehead in the most tender and soft way that you had ever felt anything against your skin. You breathed slowly, closing your eyes, drifting into the notion, your hand holding tightly onto his. When he let you go, after a good minute of staying close, his voice was low and full of fondness. “Cyar’ika. I will never not stay with you from now on.” Your heart jumped at that. Were you still dizzy? Did your head get hurt that much? You did not now if it was for the best what was unfolding here. He was your Students Keeper. Your relationship had always been professional. You were a Jedi. You could not get attached. Not to a Mandalorian of all things. This was not good and this… He had moved only slightly to get the chair closer to the bed. Sitting down. Watching you, not letting go of your hand. …This was good. At least for now. There was no shame in it. No harm. Was there? “Are you comfortable?”, he asked. His voice so very low again. So tender and so soft as he spoke to you. You nodded, brows slightly furrowed. “Can I…see Grogu. I need to see that he is fine.”, you asked of him, trying to calm your racing heart. He smiled underneath the helmet. “He is. You protected him so well, my Jedi. Stood fiercely. I’m sure he’s sleeping…”, he turned his helmet to the side, eyeing the door, “But i can bring him over if you’d feel better then?” You nodded. Softly. And that’s how you fell asleep. With a Mandalorian holding your hand. Your Padawan sleeping, leaned against your side just above our hips, snuggling into you. Din had left after a good few hours. He needed to stand for a while. Needed to move his aching body. Mando did as promised however. Not straying to far. Leaned

against the doorway, still an eye on the two of you. His heart a bit softer than before. “How is she?” He turned to his left. Watching Cara. There she stood. Glancing inside the room that the man blocked once again. Just like a kriffing Rancor... Her arms crossed before her chest, she smiled at the thought. “She’s tough. She’ll be okay.”, he muttered. Silently not to wake any of you, “I’m…sorry for being rough on you. You only meant to help. I couldn’t help myself there ...should’ve had myself under control.” The woman nodded, then smiled, then bumped his shoulder with hers. “It’s fine Mando.”, she spoke, then her smile fell, “It was horrid to look at. She really stood her ground there.” He nearly gulped, back to watching you. “She did. It should never have happened. I should have-” “Hey. Stop it.”, she warned, her hand on his shoulder now, giving him a friendly tug, “You did good. A little too brutal maybe but good. Asshole is dead. They are fine. All is good. Happy Ending.” He sighted. A deep and soulful sigh. She was right. After everything and all that happened…Cara was right. He still couldn't quite shake the images yet but...she was right. A soft and tender silence settled. The two of them watching the two of you. “She is beautiful.”, Cara nearly whispered. Leaning against his shoulder, her eyes trained on you. You. Still bloody here and there. First bruises turning a soft blue. Hair scattered on the pillow, lips slightly opened, chest rising and falling in a hypnotizing rhythm. Mando stood perfectly still. “She is.”, he muttered back. With an unyielding certainty. As if he’d always known. Cara nodded slightly. His answer - His tone - His stance had already answered her next question. She was simply curious if he would be brave enough to answer it as well. “You love her.” Her voice was clear. It was already certain. Still. It needed to be said. He needed to say it. Only once. He sighed deeply, his hands before his chest, and let his helmet hang low. Cara watched him intently. There was a newfound tension in the air. “Because I saw you holding her out there.”, she continued, giving him the push he needed, “And my Mando’a isn’t good, but i know an ‘I love you’ when I hear it.” He thought back to that. To you in his lap. Unconscious. To your soft expression and all the blood. To his arms around you, his hand holding your head up, his head pressed against yours, rocking your back and forth as he whispered. No. Nono. Nonono no please. No. Cyar’ika. Stay with me. Please. Don’t. Please stay with me. Cyar’ika my love, my heart stay with me. I- “I love her. Yes.” Cara nodded. Not that she didn’t already know that. Not that it wasn’t obvious. But it seemed that he himself hadn’t really known it until today. Or that he hadn’t been sure. Well he was sure now, she thought. Squeezing his shoulder in solidarity. Leaving him be. Watching over you. If you like the story - those here can be read as a part of it! Mando falling hard for you Mando having a crush on you @animefan3223 @shinymoonstarfish @imokayunlessyoumentionendgame @that-girl-named-alex @frau-moon @leeeggggsssssss and of course @beardie-mama Thank you all!

[fanfuckingfic]

The Mandalorian having a crush on you would include...

Hello there. I just posted a headcanon version for this but something overcame me and I wrote them all out into this. You can read it on it's own or as a second Part to: The Mandalorian falling hard for you would include You can find the Headcanon version here Warnings: Some nudity, little bit of violence, one sided to mutual pining I. Being his center of gravity A longing, modulated sigh escaped from behind the Beskar helmet.

Having settled the Ship safely into hyperspace, Din leaned back in his seat, sighting. It’s been about a month since he had hired you as a Teacher for his foundling. While not a Jedi, you had at least some control of the force. And since Jedi were rare to come by these days and mostly because of your good looks, charme and the Mandalorian’s tremendous and overwhelming crush on you - you were just the perfect candidate for the position. Din had just informed you yesterday, that you three were headed to Nevarro. “I need some new jobs…”, he had explained yesterday, voice a bit raspy. You had sat outside, levitating a small stone before you, pushing it back and forth between Grogu and yourself with the most elegant hand gestures. You had watched him, as he stood to the entrance of the ship, hands on his hips, armor shining in the sun. “I told you, Mandalorian, Credits are not a problem. I have got plenty.”, you had answered him. You looked lovely in white, he thought. You usually wore black robes - which he loved, but this stirred something different in him. A deep sigh escaped him. You had talked about that. You didn’t care in the least about credits. He on the other hand felt the need to pay you for your service of teaching Grogu while on the search for a Jedi-place for the two of you to stay. “You know how I feel about using your credits.”, he muttered, pressed. He knew about the amount of money that you somehow held. Maker knew where you’d gotten it from. You had thrown him a gentle smile and a nod. The small stone dancing on the tip of your finger. “Whatever you desire, Mandalorian. Nevarro it is.” Grogu had squealed in approval. Grabbing after the stone. Your choice of words made his stomach turn in the most exhilerating way. Din sighted yet again as he stared outside the great window in the cockpit. The stars rushing by, the soft silence that had settled in the ship. It all seemed much more wholesome, homely and warm since you had joined their little clan. Where there once was loneliness and the never ending cold of space, Din now only seemed to feel the warmth that got emitted from the ship. And while he had promised to give you some distance, as hard as that was on a ship as small as the Crest, he couldn’t keep himself from seeking you out any time he’d get the chance. It was strange. Din never thought the loneliness of his way of life had bothered him until he had you close. You were like a constant center of his gravity: It was like a proximity to you and the child had become a must in his everyday life. Wherever you moved on the ship - he wanted to be there. Glancing around the corners, trying to spot you. Watching you cook or watching you meditate. Mostly, he used the excuse that he was keeping an eye on his Kids training. He wasn’t. At least that wasn’t his main focus. Although it did turn him soft whenever Grogu managed a specifically hard task and looked at him happily, with his big brown eyes, as if saying: 'Look Buir, are you proud?' He wanted the two of you close. Always. With Grogu he understood why. He was his foundling. His little one. But you? What were you to him? He din’t know yet. All he knew was that you brought him calm just as much anxiety. You made him nervous in the best way. He decided to hold back. Just a little longer. Finding back to his roots. Running after you two wasn’t very Mandalorian of him, was it? Yet…wasn’t his whole life designed to care about ones clan? To proximity and family and aliit… Sitting upright, still staring out into the stars, he tried to control himself. He couldn’t be so enamored that he rushed up to see you right after he made the jump to hyperspace. At least a little time was appropriate. A little. … Okay enough. He really had no self control when it came to you and the child. II. Being strangely….shy Speaking of Un-Mandalorian…there was his other problem. You made him a coward. Stepping down the ladder, he first noticed it. A soft voice. Silk like, so calm it even made him sleepy. Trying to be as quiet as possible

in a suite made of metal, he stepped forward, glancing at the source. There you lay. On his bed, on your stomach, a book before you. Your legs dangled in the air above your body, Grogu was nestled between you and the book, snuggled against your chest, his head resting against the crook of your neck. “Mandalorians, a cultural group, composed of clans with members from multiple species - were mostly bound by language, code and common creed. Originated in the Outer Rim Territory, on the desert planet of Mandalore…who would have guessed that name…they played a particularly important role in the galactic history as legendary warriors against the Jedi….we don’t like that part, do we?”, you asked, tilting your head. Grogu glanced right back into your eyes, sighting a soft “Patu…” Din stood completely still. His heart was just about leaping out of his chest. He couldn’t pinpoint why. Because you lay on his bed? Because you held his child close? Because you had decided to buy a book on Mandalorian culture even though they were extremely hard to find and even more expensive once you found them? Or maybe, just maybe because it showed him that not only did you care, you cared that the child, his child, needed to know about his fathers culture. You were on his ship to teach Grogu the way of the Jedi. And he had been so scared that the Child would forget about him. You had just in that very moment, taken that horrid fear of his. “Mandalorians flourished not just across Mandalorian space but across the galaxy at large, colonizing worlds like Kalevala, Krownest and Concord Dawn…uh!”, you suddenly smiled brightly, making Grogu look up again. “I’ve been to Concord Dawn…Do you know who’s from Concord Dawn? The Great Jango Fett! Did you know the planet was damaged so much during the many wars it endured, that a good portion of it was blown away, leaving a huge crater on the surface? It really is something. We’ll take you there some day…”, you exclaimed happily, bopping the little one’s nose with your finger. He answered with a small coo and a toothy grin, touching the book again. “Ah yes yes. You’re thirst for knowledge is unyielding…let’s see…”, you teased the bundle in your arms. Knowing fully well he wanted to go on to the sides with pictures on them Din kept staring from a distance. Still halfway hidden away by the wall, lurking in the shadows of his own ship. He knew he wouldn’t have to spy on you. Yet he didn’t want to interrupt the moment. He also didn’t know you had been to Concord Dawn and was quite intrigued to hear more of your little anecdotes. You so rarely spoke of yourself…he should be more inquisitive. “There we go…here, some pictures.”, you pointed out, finally having found some illustrations in the book. Handmade books were more than rare these days, but you had always been a collector, so the price had not at all mattered. You’ve known the second you had spotted this book on a run down marketplace that it was a must have. You cleared your throat, getting ready to start reading again. “The legendary Mandalorian armor is feared across the galaxy. Visually distinctive with its plate patterns and menacing T-shaped visors…menacing?”, you doubted out loud, softly shaking your head. “Now now, the Visor isn’t menacing, your Dad isn’t menacing, is he? I’d say it suits him very well…”, you continued, “The author clearly hasn’t met a handsome, lovely Mandalorian like yours.” Din, standing completely frozen, was afraid his heart was beating so loud that you could hear him. You had of course noticed him already, smiling softly to yourself. He didn’t have to know you knew. “Your….how do you call your Mandalorian?”, you asked the little one with a soft and guiding tone of a tender teacher. “Hu…?”, Grogu cooed, looking up at you. “We learned that word already, remember? He is your…”, you tried again. “Patu!”, Grogu exclaimed. You chuckled sweetly, shaking your head. “You’re thinking of…Paru…it means…formation or something, if I remember correctly, excuse my Mando’a”, you smiled down at the Child.

“The Word was Buir, Grogu. He is your Buir.”, you spoke, affectionately, softly stroking the tired little thing. He cooed and you chuckled again. “Close. But not quite. We’ll keep practicing.”, you assure him. Mando turned, his back now pressed flush against the wall of his ship. No. No. He couldn’t take it. He was dying. Head completely red, heart hammering against his chest, shortness of breath. And warmth. Maker he felt so warm, he was damn near melting in his suit all of a sudden. Before he did something stupid, he rushed around the corner, heading straight for the refresher. An icy cold shower would do the job. III. Posing Yes. Right. That. Din wasn’t someone to pose. He hunted in the shadows. One of his strengths was to stay hidden. To be overlooked before striking. Yet he needed to get your attention somehow. And the only time he remembered, where he got all the attention, was when he showed up in the Bounty Hunters covert in his new armor. He made heads turn. The things he would do to make your head turn… You…so serene and gathered and you had magic, for kriffin’s sake. He was a man in a helmet. So yes, posing wasn’t something he did. But he wanted to see you, needed to see you and he wanted to be seen by you. He sighted a long sight, the hot water running through his dark locks and down his neck. He never liked cold showers anyway. So his idea of taking a cold shower had quickly turned into a scorching hot one, that filled the small refresher with steam. He enjoyed showers. Always had. To strip off all the armor, all the scratchy fabric, all the dust and dirt, all the blood and residues of jobs that clung to him - to be clean and free just for a while. Free… He couldn’t stop his mind wandering again. He’d like to see you free one day. He’d noticed soon enough that he loved seeing your skin. Din also knew very well that he was the very last person in the Galaxy to demand anything like that from you. He was completely dressed in metal - literally from head to toe. You never saw his face, maybe once or twice his hands. Yet there he was, sighting when you dressed up to go train with Grogu or left with him on a mission. He loved seeing you in action though. With your black robes that seemed to be made from the finest materials, your leather gloves reaching up to your elbows and those near thigh high black leather boots that made your legs seem so endlessly long. Even in your turtlenecks, he enjoyed gazing upon every curve when you fought next to him. Din smiled underneath the water that hit his skin. Fondly reminded of that one time that you suddenly appeared out of nowhere and rushed after his quarry that he’d thought lost. He was so stunned by seeing you move he nearly froze up. You had stopped the fleeing Chiss with a gesture of your hand. He could see your muscles tensing under the fabric - as if you were pulling something invisible - before the Quarry was forcefully pulled back and landed in the dirt just before his very own feet. As Din had looked up, you had had the most beautiful Amber shine in your eyes. He wondered what it meant, maybe something Jedi, but then again, it was gone as fast as it had appeared. “All yours, Mandolorian.”, you had spoken softly, as you had walked up to him. All yours He had wished to hear those words muttered, not just about some Quarry. Din took a deep breath. Mandalorian or not he was just a man…his hand traveled from his ribs down to his thigh. All Yours - Maybe in another context, maybe when you lay in his bed, just like you had when he saw you there and maybe then he would lean over you and- “Dearest Mandalorian?” Din felt his body flinching. Hard. His eyes wide , head still leaned against the wall of the shower. He swore that sometimes, it felt like you could read his damn mind. His hand immediately rushed to stop the waterflow and he tensed, turning his head. Your voice had come from behind the door to the refresher. Knowing that only the metal door separated you from his completely bare form made his stomach twist.

Strangely, the best way he’d ever felt it. Lightheadedness flooded him and maybe.. “One second!”, he called, rushing out of the shower. His reflexes and need to answer you stronger, than the thinking part of his brain. Before you could call him off, telling him that you just wanted to head to bed, he had opened the door. What stood before you, was maybe the strangest sight you had ever seen. There stood the Mandalorian. Completely undressed, steam around him, his body still wet, only covered by a towel that was clumsily thrown around his hips and strangely enough, his helmet. For a moment you started. Your eyes glued to the muscular chest and chiseled abdomen, scattered with scars. You didn’t know what you’d been expecting. There stood one of the greatest warriors in the galaxy and somehow you hadn’t expected him to look so..so… You forced your gaze up, blinking quickly. Kriff that had been some obvious staring. You had no idea the Man before you was just as nervous, having just now noticed how bare he really was and felt his blood rush to his head. Thank the great Mandalor for the helmet, he thought. “I just wanted to say that your little one fell asleep. I’d put him in his little bunk above your bed.”, you finally spoke after a solid minute of silence. “Thanks.”, he stammered, staring straight at you, his heart still beating as if he’d just ran a marathon. “I’m sorry..i feel like our Training drains him of all energy….”, you muttered. Suddenly it was you who was blabbering. “No! Not at all.”, he held out a hand, trying to calm you, quickly grabbing the towel with his other hand to hold it in place, “he uh…it’s what he needs, right? You’re a blessing really…” A Blessing… You smiled softly, nodding along. Your gaze once again traveled up to him, turning your head slightly to look at his hand. A great scar ran along it. From his thumb upwards along his forearm. It hadn’t really scarred yet. Pink flesh still visible. Without much thinking you reached out, taking hold of it. The Mandalorian froze up. Your hands were cold. Maybe he was just hot. His skin was still warm and wet from the shower…yet…you had touched him. Him. His skin. Held his hand carefully between yours, your index finger tracing along the scar. Forcing his gaze away from your hands, he looked into your eyes. You seemed so soft with him, concerned even. It made him nearly melt to a puddle before you. “Fresh?”, you asked, suddenly in a whispering tone. He kept staring. Not daring to move a muscle. He noticed that you had asked a question when you looked up at him, your compassionate gaze finding his visor. “I…yes. A few days ago”, he answered. His voice deep through the modulator. You nodded softly, looking back at the scar. It ran exactly at the part of his skin that wasn’t covered by the infamous beskar. You gazed down upon his wound again, pursing your lips slightly, noticing just how hot his skin was beneath yours. “I’m sorry to touch you with my hands all cold like that…”, you apologized. Din stared you down. Hard. He wanted to say something in the means off: ‘I’d loved to be touched by your cold hands’ Say it. Come on. Tell her. Say it you coward! - his mind urged. “Yeah…”, was all he brought out. Through the Modulator it sounded harsh. Near angry. You quickly pulled your hand back at his response, frowning. Di’kut! Idiot! What did you do?!? - he cursed himself. “I can try to do something about it if you want to, it’s deep. Sewing it could still aid the healing process…i hope.”, you continued in a whispering tone. He did not know why you spoke so softly. Maybe to not wake the child. Maybe because this moment was as intimate to you as it was to him. Maybe because he’d just been rude by mistake. “It’s fine. Really.”, he blocked, trying to act tough. You looked up at him again, all the toughness vanishing from him. “Is it?”, you asked, raising a brow. Silence settled. “No…”, he answered. He wanted to be touched by you. Even under those circumstances. “Tomorrow morning then. First thing. Before you

leave.”, you ordered gently, with a small nodd. He missed your touch already. You sighted. Longingly? Did he just hear a longing in that sigh? “I will head to bed. I would’ve liked a shower but it seems you’ve used all the hot water.”, you teased, smiling up at him. He wished you could’ve seen his face. “I’m so sorry.”, he spoke. He still wasn’t used to sharing his living space with a full grown other adult. You believed him, then chuckled, holding up a hand. “It’s all fine dear Mandalorian. You’ve deserved it.”, you answered slyly. Before he could ask you to stay, you had turned around, leaving for your corner of the ship. IV. Being inquisitive Morning had come and gone and with Grogu squealing, you had taken care of the scar on his forearm. Watching you caring for him had softened his heart even more. He still wanted to ask you about the book you bought. And about your travel to Mandalorian ground. And about your abilities as a Jedi. What even was a Jedi? A clan of sorcerers, the armorer had once told him. So many questions swirled around him as he turned his head to look at you. He sat next to you. Draped in complete silence. There was still an hour to go before you reached your destination and you had decided to join him in the cockpit. You sat perfectly still. Your legs folded underneath you on the small seat, that was definitely not meant for meditating on and your eyes were closed. That serenity that had made him fall for you had surrounded you again and even his foundling seemed to enjoy it. Sitting still in his crib, staring at you the same way he did. He wanted to say something. Anything. He wanted to know you. At least a little. What was there to talk about? He let his gaze drift over your form. He couldn’t exactly say: Hey, you’ve got the cutest nose and the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen. You’re hair looks like Nabooan silk and your lips make me want to rip my helmet off. So what was there to talk about? Scars. Not exactly pleasant but at least…something. “Fresh?”, he asked. You slowly opened your eyes. Noticing the Mandalorian watching you intently. He looked lovely. When the light of the stars danced on his beskar. You couldn’t exactly follow the line of his gaze, so you threw him a questioning look. “The one on your arm.”, he tried again. You looked down to your left arm, where a white scar disappeared beneath your sleeve. “No…”, you answered, “A long time ago.” He nodded slowly, settling in a comfortable silence again. “It is from my Master.”, you added after a small while, making his helmet shoot up. “Your Master?”, he asked, his voice something between shocked and worried. “Yes.”, you answered, your finger brushing over it with care. “As in…as in slavery?”, Din asked, a little out of breath suddenly. He couldn’t believe that any of that harm came to you. It couldn’t be true, he would hunt them down and- “No no, not like that.”, you suddenly chuckled, calming him immediately. He released a sigh, his tensed up muscles slightly relaxing again. “My Master as in teacher.”, you explained. “Oh…so it was…a training mishap?”, he asked, very curious. You went silent, staring ahead. Memories of red and black and fierce amber eyes flashed before you. “No…no not at all…more like a lesson.”, you muttered. Din was right back at tensing up again. “What kind of lessons do you Jedi teach?”, he asked, anger filling the modulated words. You shook your head, offering him a gentle smile, trying to calm his nerves. “None like these. He was no Jedi. Not at all. the Jedi are calm, collected and controlling their emotions. But there is another side to the force, you see?”, you offered an explanation. He leaned back in his seat. “There are multiple sides to this?”, he asked, tilting his head. You nodded again, glancing at Grogu now. “Only two. Dark and Light. The Jedi are in the Light. I needed to learn that it was the right way.”, you continued, Mando clinging to every one of your words. “So you had multiple teachers?”, he asked, seemingly very curious. “Yes.”, you

nodded, “Which means i know the importance of finding just the right one for Grogu.” He nodded at that. “I understand that now…”, he muttered, both of your gazes at the Child now. Time after time you noticed the Mandalorians' curiosity. It had only grown over time. Like: “What is that on your hip?”, his deep voice rasped as you had stood together on on a lone planet. “A…how do you call it again? Jetii’kad.”, you had answered, arms crossed gracefully in front of your chest, as you stared ahead. “A Sword?”, he asked, “I heard only legends. They are supposed to cut through anything but beskar. I wouldn’t have believed it, hadn’t I seen it myself on the Jedi we met before you.” “This is true. On the good Lady Tano”, you answered gently and with a soft smile on your lips that made him swoon. “Why do you never use it, if it’s supposed to be so mightyful?”, he asked, tilting his helmet questioningly. A small silence followed and he asked himself if he’d hit an unpleasant spot with that question. You had flinched slightly, your soft smiled had disappeared. “It doesn’t feel right to be used by me.”, you answered, quietly. Yes. He had. Or: “I tried not to ask. I did. But I have to.”, he challenged you. “Ask away, Dear Mandalorian”, you teased, looking up from behind your book. He took a deep breath. Dear Mandalorian. It sounded so sweet coming from your full and lovely lips. Your beauty was blinding to him, sitting there on his ship like you lived with him already. “Your credits…you gathered quite the stack of them, how did you…”, he asked. Having gathered all his courage. He knew it was a personal question. But that’s how he wanted to know you after all…Personal. You lowered the book into your lap, sighting softly. He noticed how uncomfortable you seemed. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer if you don’t wan-”, he started, but you interrupted him. “Crimson Dawn.”, you had answered. He was stunned into silence. “Crim…Crimson Dawn?”, he muttered. “Crimson Dawn.”, you confirmed. He nodded, then just turned away. “Okay Then.” You chuckled darkly, looking back at your book. “All questions answered, Mandalorian?”, you asked, entertained by his reaction. “All of them.”, he called back, almost at the other side of the ship already. Worrying harder about you than he ever had before. V. Gushing over you

“There’s something i need to tell you.” You quickly turned around. You had wandered off through the ship, about to go look for a certain blanket that your young student loved especially much, as you had heard the mechanic-yet-soft voice behind you. How did he sneak up like that? Had you grown so comfortable around the Mandalorian that you no longer noticed his presence? Most your days were spent on planets. Where he was working and you went out with Groguto train him. Yet you always came home to Him. Slept in the same room as him, only separated by a blind. He was always around you in some way. You two had gotten close over time. Unwillingly maybe - but without any resistance of either of you. Either way - he had never before frightened or even startled you like that. Your guard had never been that low. Holding one hand to your heart and the other on your saber, you tried to collect yourself. Noticing your rather strange reaction, the tall man before you seemed to change his posture. His shoulder slumped a bit, his helmet leaned forwards. - he was worried. It was strange to see the Mighty Mandalorian convey so much communication through gesture and posture alone. You supposed one had to work around the boundaries that the beskar set. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”, he tried to calm you. You noticed the care on his modulated voice and smiled softly, as you looked up into the oh so known visor. A visor that had become quite familiar and homely. Your hand slowly left your racing heart and you stood up straight, taking a deep breath. “Everything is fine, what can I do for you?”, you asked, still a bit rattled. He tensed again. Only if slightly. You often wondered what happened inside that helmet of his, only catching glances of emotion and thoughts from time to time. Right now - his mind was impenetrable. He was…upset. In a way. But that was as far as you could reach. A modulated sigh escaped him as he turned his helmet to the side, seemingly looking for something at the off wall of the ship. The truth was that he wasn’t at all looking for something - Din just couldn’t look at you. “It’s about our destination,'' he admitted. “Nevarro.”, you tried to confirm, tilting your head slightly. “Yes…”, he muttered, voice deep. A voice that sent pleasant warmth through you. You leaned back, onto the crate behind you. Giving him time and space to speak. He frowned, then sighted again, then finally turned his head to you. “Nevarro is a bit of a mixed bag for me. I’d like to scout ahead. See how things are going before you and the kid come.”, he finally got out the words. Now it was our turn to frown. Was he worried…about you? “You know I could come.”, you proposed, not quite understanding the need to stay. “I know…”, he admitted. You felt bold that day. He’d been so strangely distant for a while now. Always around you bet always talking around the bush. It was time you got him to speak some truth. “But you don’t want me to. You want me to stay with the Baby.”, you guided him, trying to get him to speak full sentences. “He’s not a Baby.”, he protested and you smirked. Watching you for a while, he let his helmet hang low, hands on his hips now. “You are worried something could happen to us.”, you read him. “It’s not like that.”, he muttered in response. “No?”, you asked again, smiling gently. You liked this little game. It wouldn’t hurt the tough man before you to just admit at least the smallest amount of his feelings. At least for the Child. “It’s…kind of like that. Maybe.”, he groaned, “Why are you so eager to clarify that, Jedi?” You smiled even wider, trying your best to hide it, your hands now folded before your chest, your eyes soft as you watched his form. “You try to protect us.”, you continued to tease. “What if I do? I know you can protect yourself - i don’t want to undermine you but-”, he started, having looked straight at you again only to be frozen in place by your beautiful sly smile and your curious eyes on him. “But?”, you asked, trying to get him to finish. He fell

silent. Taking a deep breath. You had learned to enjoy the sound of his modulated breathing. “But I’d like to try. To protect you. He’s my foundling and you…you are…”, he stopped himself. Not quite knowing how much to admit. You have become so much to him. The woman I love? - no, too much The reason I enjoy coming back to the ship again? The thing I look forward to after my jobs? An Asset? - too cold….think Mando…My Partner - is that too far also? The woman I want to throw my helmet off for? The one I would like to hold at night? The- “It’s tremendously kind of you. Mandalorian. Noble even. I’ll wait with Grogu for as long as you deem reasonable. Just get me on the Com. I’ll be there when you deem it safe.”, you decided to end the silence and thus his rapid thinking. Mando nearly faltered. “You think so?”, he asked. Nearly a whisper. He was afraid the Modulator didn’t even catch it. He saw the answer in your silken gaze, honest and true. “I do, my Mandalorian.”, you nearly whispered back. Your voice as sweet as an angel’s to him. And so he had landed, packed up and left. Leaving Grogu and you to wait things out on the ship. You had sighted, walked over to your favorite spot and began reading once more. Not much more to do until he returned…

“MY Mandalorian”, Din whispered to himself. Over and over again. He had made sure the ship was far enough from trouble if anything was to happen. It was about an hour of walking before one was to reach the city. An hour of repeating your words, thinking them through and through and through. Noble. I Am noble for protecting them. And kind. No one had ever called me kind. And I am hers. Her Mandalorian. Her noble, kind Mandalorian. What does she mean by that? Maybe…that I am the one Mandalorian she knows? Maybe because I am protecting her. Maybe…because she wants me to be hers - as I want her to be mine. Could I call her my Jedi? Would that be appropriate? Would she feel the same about it, as I when I- “Mando!” It was his time to flinch. It was not at all alright for a Mandalorian to be caught off guard and if he was so deep in thought, he didn’t even notice Cara, then things clearly weren’t right. The woman stood at the gates to town, a grin on her face as she noticed the familiar silver beskar. “Dune…”, before he could really greet her the woman had thrown her arms around the armor, pulling him close. The air left Din’s lungs and for a second there he smiled underneath the helmet, muttering: “Good…good to see you too Marshal.” She let go of him, holding on to his Shoulder plates as she pushed him off her at an arm's distance. “Don’t call me that Mando…I'm off duty for today. I knew it was your rosty Razor Crest I saw on the Radar! What brings you here and…where is the little guy?”, she chatted along, turning her head to look out for the missing companion. Although the sun had just risen on the dry, volcanic planet, the air was already hot and sticky and the walk had dragged on for quite a while. “About that…”, Din finally got to say a word, just to be quickly interrupted again. “Tell me about it when we grabbed a drink, yeah? I’m dying out here and Greef will be happy to see you. “, she quickly proposed. “Yeah…that sounds good.”, he continued, taking a look over his shoulder. He couldn’t see the ship by a long shot. But somehow he still longed for the two of you already. Knowing that things seemed fine on Nevarro only urged him to go back and get you more. The sooner the better. He didn’t at all like to be apart from you two. Not just the kid as he noticed, but you also. “Mando!”, Greef Karga called. It was like Din had never left. The Cantina was rebuilt, Greef looked a bit grayer, but still sat on his seat at the same table, drinking the same drink. Some things just didn’t seem to change. He turned his head slightly as he entered. Staring at the place where he nearly died. Right there he had lain. In the middle of the room. Nearly slipping out of consciousness. Now the Cantina was full, buzzling and repaired again. “Karga.”, Mando offered, a bit colder than he wanted to sound. “Sit sit. What brings you to my dear Nevarro?”, he teased, grinning at the helmet before him. Mando reluctantly sat down across from the man, making room for Cara to sit next to him. “Jobs. Mostly.”, he answered. He watched Karga pointing over to the Bar Droid for drinks, although he knew full well the Mandalorian wouldn't be having a single sip in front of them. “Ahh I see, and the Child? Where is the little Menace?”, Greef then continued, gesturing at the empty space between them. Mando turned his head to Cara, then back to the man across from him. “I also want to know, don’t say you’ve given him away after all we’ve done for the little guy.”, Cara teased, knowing fully well the Mandalorian before her would never even consider such a thing. “He’s…at the ship.”, Din explained. “You left him alone at the ship?”, Greef asked, shock written on his features. “All by himself?”, Cara joined, frowning hard. Mando grew uncomfortable. Why he didn’t know. Telling his friends, the few that he had about you turned out to be harder than he’d thought. “He’s…with his teacher. At the moment.” “His what?” “Teacher?” The two of them blurted out at the same time, throwing each other an unbelieving glance. “Yes.”, Mando

simply answered. Taking hold of the drink the Droid had brought them. He felt the urgent need to chuck the alcohol right then and there . “So you found someone to teach him the hand thingy better? Can that teacher do the hand thingy too?”, Karga asked, playing with the glass in his hand as he demonstrated the gesture he referred to. Mando rolled his eyes underneath the helmet. “That’s good news! Where did you find a teacher?”, Cara interrupted , then before he could answer continued, “So that means no reuniting with his people? You keep him and that teacher around?” Mando felt his heart beat rising slightly. He would certainly like it that way. The three of you. Together. For…ever. “About that…yeah, we aren’t a hundred percent sure yet. We keep looking for the kid’s people non the less.”, he explained, clearing his throat. He was clearly being uncomfortable and both of them noticed that straight away, throwing each other a suspicious look. “And…you brought that teacher here with you? To Nevarro?”, Cara asked. “Ah…yes. They'll join us later on.”, Mando explained. “And you stay with that teacher on your ship, yes?”, Greef continued, still looking rather at Cara, than Mando. “I…yes I do. I mean we do travel around a lot.”, Mando kept answering, frowning underneath the helmet. Starting to notice something was off about those two. Cara smirked, then looked down at the table. “So…the two of you. On your tiny-ass razor Crest?”, Cara teased now. Mando noticed in that very moment what exactly was going on. His heartbeat quickened yet again and he let go a slight growl, looking down at his cup. “It…works well enough.”, he answered, trying to stay friendly. “Ah. I see. You…you and that man, you travel around, sharing your little ship, raising your kid…”, Greef continued gesturing something. It was at that point that Cara turned to her side, not able to hold back her chuckle any longer. “It’s…she’s not what you’re referring to at the moment. She’s just his teacher.”, Mando tried to start, soon interrupted again. “She!”, Greef called, a grin on his face. “Oh a she…”, Cara smiled, turning her head, “I knew you were off when you walked into town!” “Our Mando’s in love, can you believe it!”, Greef exclaimed, clapping his hands together grinning at Cara. “I’m not….were not!”, Mando tried to save it, but was soon undermined by their joined laughter. “It’s fine Mando it is! We’re happy for you! How does it work with the…”, the man gestured to his face. Cara had meanwhile slung her arms around the man's neck pulling him close happily. “Is she looking like…like you know, the child? Or do they all look different?”, Cara asked. Din, pressed into a corner, overwhelmed by the whole situation just stared at the table, thinking about it being a grave mistake to come to Nevarro in the first place. Noticing his silence Cara let go of him, turning to face him. “Oh come on Mando, we’re just joking.”, she proposed, pushing his side in a friendly manner. He sighted, still clinging to his cup. “So alright alright.”, Greef also calmed down, looking at the man's helmet, “She’s your kids teacher - tell us about her! We’re dying for some news here Mando!” He sighted again, thinking hard about it. And then it just happened. He began talking. And talking. And talking. More than both Cara and Karga had heard him talk combined at all. He was calm. And collected. And sweet in his descriptions. About how he found you. And your capabilities. How you cared for the two of them. About the Magic you possessed and about how graceful you looked when you used them. About your constant reading and your wisdom. And about how you always seemed to know what either of them needed. About your softness to Grogu. And about your calm demeanor. Your fighting style, your strange yet breathtaking eyes and you’re tendency to leave treats and sweets from different planets you visited on his nightstand. And while he did, he noticed Greefs gaze shift. From his helmet upwards. Up up up over Mandos shoulder. And how the man's face suddenly changed

and his expression turned to a very surprised one. “Say Mando…all your babbling…and you didn’t once cared to mention you’re dating the kriffing Queen of Naboo?”, he asked dryly, both Din and Cara frowning at that expression. “What? No i’m not dating anyone and…what are you on about Greef?”, Mando asked, confused about the man’s expression. “Mando…a damn Holo Model just walked in here, holding your child. You are telling me that Beauty there is Yours?”, Karga explained further, gesturing to the entrance behind the two of them. Both Mando and Cara turned their heads so fast, they nearly snapped their necks. It was true. There you stood. In the most elegant and beautiful black dress that Din had ever seen. Your hair flowing freely down your back, looking soft as silk. The soft fabric and golden details on your garment flowing ever so softly in the gentle afternoon breeze as you looked down to the green Bundle savely cradled in the nest of your arms. While all the eyes in the Cantina were on you, you only had eyes for Grogu. And then, as you looked up, for your Madnalorian. You smiled brightly at him, waving softly just as the child did - and it nearly took his breath away. “I…excuse me…”, Mando quickly rasped out, immediately standing and rushing past Cara to run to you. Cara, who turned around with her mouth hanging slightly open, staring at Greef Karga, in pure disbelief. “How”, was all the man brought out, staring after the three of you still, “Does that tincan get a woman like that?!” Cara raised her brows in complete and utter shock. “I uh…I don’t….don’t ask me. She surely isn’t the woman I was picturing…”, she chuckled, “But if they’re not dating…I’ll gladly try my luck.” Greef threw her an aggravated look. “Only after I had my shot.”, he challenged. “What are you doing here? I didn’t call you yet and…”, Mando had jogged up to the two of you. You could strange enough both hear and feel the worry in his words. Even the Visor on his helmet suddenly looked as if it was frowning. He wanted to be angry. For you taking that walk from the ship all by yourself, for taking Grogu out, for carrying the small guy - which you never did before. But he just couldn’t be angry. He stared at you. You and your gentle smile as you held his child so close, which didn’t at all seem to want to leave your arms, even for his Buir. He stared and he couldn’t find a single angry or displeased word in him. Not one. “Well…We wanted to see our Mandalorian.”, you spoke, so soft, so full of tenderness, looking up into his visor. He could’ve fainted then and there. “Oh he’s lost.” “Gone.” Cara sighted and Greef chuckled along. @animefan3223 @shinymoonstarfish @carrietrekkie @imokayunlessyoumentionendgame @that-girl-named-alex @lam-ila

[fanfuckingfic]

The Mandalorian falling hard for you would include…

Hello there. I've done a series like this on Poe before - but the urge overcame me to do it for Din as well. This is a little mix up of headcanons woven into a small story. P.s. - due to requests there is now a Part 2! I. Incapability There were only two, and exactly two situations in Din Djarin’s life in which he was incapable of finishing a contract. The first one was when he looked into a pair of the sweetest brown eyes he had ever seen and saw his young-foundling self in them. The second was when he laid eyes on the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and landed, subsequently, on his back, on the ground, speechless and with his heart hammering wildly against his chest.

Mando was a talented man, a professional at what he did. Precise and deadly. The Bar was crowded. The only reason Mando had stopped at it, was because Grogu did not stop cooing. The second he had heard the little one's tummy growl, he couldn’t stop himself and his fatherly instincts and headed for the closest possibility to get a quick bite to eat. So there he was now, sitting at a rustic table in a full bar, watching his surrogate Son devour a bowl of soup. And even though Mando did plan on not even listening in to the idiocy of some of the loud, drunken guests, he once again failed his own ambitions. “Is that Witch even worth it?”, a ruggish Trandoshan cursed. “Worth it? Oh she’s real valuable. I hear on Zyggeria they hold them as high-servants. Everything from security to…you know, entertainment.”, a disgusting chuckle followed. Silence settled and Mando found himself yawning. Always a strange move in the helmet, but there he was, staring ahead through the room, his head resting against his hand.

He listened in again. To the voices in the room. Discussing matters of home and domesticity and the price of fruit at the market place and then- “Well if she’s so damn valuable we need some help. Trying it on our own really hasn’t worked out well…”, the Twi’lek’at the bar muttered, anger clearly apparent in his tone. “Help…I see some potential help…”, the Trandoshian next to him hissed. Mando rolled his eyes. He knew they meant him. Could feel their eyes on his beskar. On the one hand, he wasn’t in for jobs at the moment. On the other…he really didn’t look forward to finding that so-called Jedi Stone and thus part with Grogu. So wasting some time on a job didn’t seem all too horrible. And so the Mandalorian had agreed before the three Bounty Hunters even had the chance to address him.

The clan of two had started their journey into the meadow the next morning. If Din didn’t know that they were on the hunt, he would’ve thought this whole experience a ‘Family-binding adventure hiking-trip’. The planet was beautiful. Lush, dark greens grazed the soft hills, the suns shone brightly, the sweetest smell of flowers lay in the air and feathered creatures sang and flew through the sky like little dancing loth cats. Grogu was noisy since they had left the Crest that morning. Constantly gazing out of his bag, showing his little toothy grin, watching the creatures in awe. If to eat them or to enjoy their dance - Din didn’t know. But he enjoyed the little One’s happiness nonetheless. “Yeah it’s nice.”, was all he added to that, smiling underneath his helmet. It was days and planets like this that urged and seduced him to take off the armor for once and enjoy the warm wind on his skin. Maybe dive into the crystal clear water. The water that softly brushed up against the shore to their left, splashing in near meditative rhythm. The Mandalorian turned his head to watch the waves lazily slap against the cliff. It was strange to think that in a serene setting like this, there was his bounty waiting. Danger lurking. His gaze graced over the meadow before him, scanning the area. It would only be a minute of walking more, before he reached the end of the cliffs - which was rather strange, since his tracking beacon was telling him he was rather close and he still hadn’t spotted a single soul around. He hadn’t. The little foundling, resting in the bag on the Mandalorian's hip however, did. Mando turned his head, noticing Grogu getting antsy. “Hey…”, he muttered, turning to his upper body to watch the child gesturing to their right, holding out his little hands, cooing loudly. “What is it? Seeing something interes-” Without further ado, he had turned to follow the child's gaze and pleading, stopping completely still as he spotted what was causing the ruckus. Or rather, who. To their right, engulfed in beautifully blooming high bushes, was a small pond. The air was light, the water stood completely and perfectly still and before it sat, in meditative pose, the most angelic looking being the Mandalorian had ever laid his eyes on. His heart jumped. He felt his muscles tense. His gaze softened. Something about that woman sitting there was so calm, so serene, as if her pure soul brushed against his, filling his heart with peace and- And Grogu felt it too, other than his surrogate father he felt it was the strong force signature of the meditating woman and he cooed loudly and happily at feeling something so close to what he knew from home. The noise caused You to open your eyes, gazing ahead. You had felt something disturbing your peace. But you were too much in a daze to really notice anything. Also in a daze, was the Mandalorian standing before you. It was hard to tell if Mandalorians were looking, gazing or staring, but he surely looked straight at you. Mando knew he was on the staring side of things. Mouth slightly hanging open just by the sheer picture before him, goosebumps on his skin. He didn’t at all know what just happened to him. He wasn’t a boy anymore. This shouldn’t happen but…but your eyes. Your soft and stunning eyes. And your hair, flowing ever so softly in the wind. He couldn’t even start about your body as a whole and watched completely smitten as you gracefully stood up. His eyes tracing your form, up and down and he didn’t even notice himself frowning, completely and utterly lost by the sight of you. You looked so soft. He knew nothing of softness. Only of hard beskar steel and of harsh bedding and the cold hard feeling of metal against his body. Even seeing you for the very first time he wanted nothing more but to bury his head in the softness that was you. The Mandalorian before you shifted his head, tilting it to the side as if curious. His hands at his sides, his shoulders low. Not at all about to attack. Oh your eyes. He couldn’t get enough of your eyes. So endless, so pure, so

absolutely shocked. Shocked? Why were you shocked? - he asked himself. So very lost in thought, he didn’t even hear the annoying and loud beeping that emerged from the device in his hand. You on the other hand had. Your eyes wide in shock and horror that they would send a Mandalorian after you. A full blown, all beskar, trained killer and 'perfect warrior' Mandalorian. Ruthless and harsh and you decided at that moment, you would have to act quickly. He was here for your head. Yet another hunter thinking of you as prey and so you held out your hand, using the force to pull the weapon off him. Din felt enamored. Like in a trance watching you. Still not in a fighting pose, still curiously staring at you, he noticed a tug. Was fate pulling you two together? He could feel it! Some…power just pulled him towards you like a magnet, he didn’t at all fight it until he noticed - it wasn’t fate, and it wasn’t him that was pulled, it was the spear on his back. In a seconds notice it had detached itself from its resting place on his back and flown into your hand. At the impact, you felt the beskar Vibrating angrily, as if it knew it did not belong in your hands. You acted quickly. The Mandalorian had stumbled forward and without sparing another second you had rushed him, your foot placed before his shin, the back of the spear pressed on his back as you shoved him off his balance, throwing him to the ground. He landed face first, only now noticing that a fight had even broken out. Quickly turning his head up, he only saw you for a second again, gesturing something with your hand and before he could react, he felt his body move on his own, being flung through the air. Mando hit a tree. Hard. Thankfully only with his back. Still, he coughed, feeling the air being pushed out of his lungs as he gravity once again pulled him to the ground, this time facing upwards. He took a few breaths, collecting himself, staring up to the perfectly blue sky, his back aching horribly. Being thrown around like a rag doll wasn’t part of the plan - well, instantly falling in love with his target at first sight wasn’t the plan either but things just seemed to happen today. His vision of the blue sky was suddenly tainted by the spearhead of his own beskar lance being pointed directly at his visor. You stood above him. Looking unimpressed and angered. And oh so beautiful, maker you were beautiful and fierce and… “It’s not very clever for a Mandalorian to carry a weapon made of the only material in the galaxy that could pierce his armor.”, you spoke, spite in your voice. You were right, he thought, and your voice sounded so very seductive when you were right. You could have held the spear to his throat. Piercing him where the armor left a gape for you to hit his tender flesh instead of hard metal. But you tried to make a point. A very dominant point.

For just a moment he wanted to raise his arm and throw you off with fire. But he soon noticed he couldn’t. Why couldn’t he? He was incapable. The second he looked up into your fierce eyes, there was no way that he could. He lay at your mercy and he would rather do so than hurting you. Completely and utterly incapable of hurting you, he stared up at you. Watching you in awe and questioning his sudden swell of heart. “Tell me, Mandalorian, would you like to die by the very metal that protected you since-”

“Patu!” Both of you turned your head to the side to see the Child crawling out of his makeshift resting place on Mando’s hip. A sigh of relief escaped Din as he saw the little one apparently unharmed. You stopped for just a moment. Watching the little being in awe. Grogu stared up at you. Eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, probably asking himself why you were holding the tip of a spear to his fathers head. Mando slowly pushed himself up, trying to de-escalate but you quickly put him back in place, pressing the Spear down, the tip now resting on his visor, making him gulp. “Your Foundling?”, you asked. Din found his heart beating faster at how soft your voice sounded all of a sudden. Yet he didn’t want to make another quick move, you were right, after all. The beskar could very well end up in his eye socket if you wanted it to. His helmet forever destroyed.

“Yes…he is.”, he answered. Slowly. His voice as friendly as possible through the modulator. You quickly turned your gaze back to him, finding yourself liking the deep voice beneath the helmet. “Why would you bring him into battle…if he’s a foundling he’s probably been through enough already…”, you scolded him. Mando found his chest tightening. Yes. Yes you were so right. So full of compassion now that it touched his heart, since only in a few minutes of knowing you, you had shown him and his religion more respect and understanding than many have in years knowing him. “He uh…he’s hard to keep in the ship.”, he admitted. Trying to just be as honest as possible. You watched Grogu for a while, but kept the push on the Mandalorians head steady to let him know you were still very much aware of him. He gazed up at you in awe. Hating himself for it. His life was threatened. Why did he gaze up so lovingly? Why did his stupid heart flutter at the sight of you above him? What was wrong with him? “I would rather not kill a foundling's father…especially not in front of him, if only for his sake.”, you muttered, tilting your chin in Grogu’s direction, “You think we might find a way to…lay our differences aside for today?” Mando breathed hard. No one had ever addressed him as Grogu’s father before. No one had ever let him just….go after he tried to kill them. You beautiful thing just ticked so many of the right boxes for him. He didn’t know if to hate you or himself for it. “Yes. Yes I would very much like that.”, he quickly answered, clearly very much in favor of the Idea, “You…you are Jedi? Right? You pushed me up against that tree like…like…” As you slowly lifted the Spear from his helmet and stepped back, you watched the man in beskar before you sitting up, starting to ramble. Before addressing you further, he had turned to grab the Foundling. “Are you okay? You got hurt? No?”, he muttered silently, looking at the child in his hands, turning him around to scan him for any bruises. You watched in surprise at the softness of the scene before you, before your eyes met his visor again. He held the child close in his arm as he stood up, now watching you. “I am not a Jedi.”, you corrected him, “The Jedi have been hunted and murdered. So our people are not that different, Mandalorian.” He watched you closely. There was deep sadness in your voice. “But I was trained by one of them. So you could say I know the ways of the Force. Even if not all of them…”, you admitted, “That's the whole reason why you come after me to kill or capture me, isn’t it?” Mando watched you tilt your head at him, seemingly interested in his motives. “Oh I…”, he quickly turned his head to the beacon that still beeped loudly at your presence, before taking a step and crashing it with his boot. Your eyes widened. Surprised at the sudden change of heart from the man, you stared at him. The child in his arms cooed approvingly. “Let’s forget about that, okay? I’m very sorry.”, he explained, holding out a hand in peace. You carefully watched him. He carefully watched you. Watched you as your eyes glided over every piece of armor on his body, just to travel back up again, up to his outstretched hand. Reluctantly you stepped forward, placing your hand in the man’s gloved one. “Apology accepted”, you nearly whispered, not taking your eyes off his. He felt seen by you. As if you looked right through the helmet. “I’m Mando.”, he offered, squeezing your hand ever so softly. He watched you lifting a curious brow, before you told him your name. His hand felt strangely empty as you pulled yours out of it. “My Foundling he’s…he uh he has the same abilities as you. I am Looking for a Jedi at the moment. To train him.”, he quickly explained. He stuttered. And he just said that. Why would he say that to a stranger? Why would he stutter? he wasn’t the type to stutter. What was happening here?

You watched him, then the child curiously. “Well I…”, you started, sounding a bit overwhelmed, “I uh…” You sighted, your hands now on your hips. That was one hell of a quick change of events this morning. First he wanted to kill you, then he wanted you to what? Raise his child with him? In a mere 10 minute exchange? Did he have a ring on him as well? You sighted yet again, exhausted and confused before shrugging. Deciding to just go with whatever the force intended for you. At the moment you were pursued by bounty hunters and an ally did not seem like the worst of ideas. So you decided to talk business, were business is talked about the best: “Are you hungry? I life…just a few minutes away and-” “Patu!” Grogu agreed, stretching his little hands out towards you. “That’s a yes…I suppose.” Mando explained, looking down at the small green bundle in his arm. II. Blabbering Mando was not the type of man to talk a lot. He knew that. Everyone knew that. Why in the name of the maker he could not stop himself around you was an absolute mystery to him. He had accompanied you to a lovely little house on a hill. You had told him to sit at a small table in the garden and he had listened. Why he listened, he did not know. When you returned after a few minutes, bringing three cups with something warm and sweet in it, you settled elegantly next to him and it began. “Thank you. I mean it.”, he started. You looked up at him, through your full and beautiful lashes. He felt smitten. “It’s okay.”, you answered sternly. “I tried to kill you. I Suppose. I didn’t know you were…that you are Jedi. Or not Jedi. You know what i mean. I mean you just explained to me that you are not Jedi but…”, he rambled on. Couldn’t stop himself. The way you looked at him with that soft understanding gaze just opened him up. “You got trained. By a Jedi. And I was just here because…it’s my job. You know.”, he gestured with a hand. You asked yourself why he called you Jedi instead of a Jedi but it made sense. It was how the word Mandalorian was used - and he simply seemed to advert his language to that. Then he looked down for only a second, reached over to the table to give Grogu his cup that he was begging for. The child sat in his lap and one of Mando’s hands engulfed him lovingly, securing him tightly to his spot in the man's lap. “It’s uh…my job to get people. Some people came at me. Offered me money. I need to feed the little one you know and-”, you noticed him blabbering and quickly nodded. “No hard feelings, Mandalorian.”, you raised a hand, again elegantly, as he noticed. “…Good. I wouldn’t want anything standing between us.”, he answered. You raised a questioning brow at that. “Nothing hard. I mean.”, he corrected himself, raising his free hand. You raised your brows even higher, looking a bit shocked. “No hard feelings! Between us…i meant”, he corrected himself a third time. His voice sounded pressed and disappointed at himself - even through the modulator. The smallest smile played over your lips as you averted your gaze, to look over the meadows in the distance. Mando cursed underneath his helmet, ever so slightly. What was wrong with him?!? Before he could process his extremely odd behavior he looked up again, seeing your full lips smiling. That was it. That was what was wrong with him. It nearly killed him. Like you took hold of his bare heart and pulled it straight through his chest. Maker he was falling. Hard and fast. This wasn’t good. Again he asked himself, what was wrong with him. What just happened? It was your eyes. No. Your lips. Or those cheekbones. Nope...your fighting capability...or that hair that looked so kriffing soft to his touch...or maybe... Even Grogu noticed, looking up to him questioningly. “So…your little one needs training.”, you carefully changed the subject, pulling him out of his thoughts. He looked up to you again, trying to concentrate this time, taking a deep breath, before answering: “Yes…I was told by one of your kind that he is strong, but needs guidance.” That came out good. He

managed this time, felt a bit proud about it even. “I see…”, you answered, turning around on your chair. Mando watched, confused. Your back was turned to him. Your hair got softly blown over your shoulder by the warm wind. You seemed calm and serene. Why would you turn away? Your back to a man that just tried to kill you? Did you notice him staring? Could you? Helmet and all? “Did I…say something?”, he asked, treading carefully. He heard you chuckle softly and his heart damn near jumped out of his chest. “No, Mandalorian. I am giving you space to drink..”, you explained, a soft smile on your lips still. “Oh…thank you.”, he answered, feeling very dull all of a sudden. “Why don’t you call me Mando?”, he asked, more like blabbered again, but he couldn’t really help himself when you were that sweet, could he? “It’s not your name.”, you answered plainly, taking a sip, watching the scenery before you. “Huh…that’s true…but ‘Mandolorian’ just seems to long for most people.”, he explained. “It’s not your name either though.”, you teased, tilting your head, “But I think it’s beautiful.” He chuckled darkly, happy you couldn’t see the heat that rose to his face. “I’ll call you by a name when you give me the right one.”, you proposed. He silently agreed. You heard the Helmet shifting off. More than a pleasantry, your ‘turning away’ was a test. A test of trust. You had turned your back to him, now you challenged him to take off the helmet around you. Knowing that you could turn around any second. You were surprised to hear that he had passed your test. Knowing that he probably was very much aware of your little game. “Why is there a bounty on your head?”, he asked. He felt strained without his helmet on. But if you wanted to know that you had his trust, he would prove it to you. He was not stupid. And he knew there was an arrangement to be found here. You just had to play your part and this could become a great opportunity for both of you. You listened closely to his voice. The voice without a modulator. Strong and manly. Yet soft and in a strange way, gentle and well mannered. “That was…a rude thing to ask sorry I-” he started talking again as soon as he noticed you didn’t answer right of the bat. You shook your head, gesturing it was alright. “Even though the empire has fallen…people still hunt for force sensitives. I trusted the wrong people. Now i pay the price.”, you explained, trying to stay vague. “The price being?”, he asked. “Constant running. Constantly being attacked…I can protect myself but it exhausts me.”, you spoke slowly and with a sigh. It made his heart ache. “I can imagine.”, he puzzled, trying to push you in the right direction. Grogu tried to look up at him and Mando quickly shielded the child's eyes before he could see his face. You heard the helmet being put back on. “Yet I don’t think you need protection. With your abilities.”, he spoke again, this time with the modulator back to slightly distort his words, “Turn around please.” You did as he asked of you and once again he was a bit blown away by your beauty. “It was…very good thank you.”, he managed to say, gesturing at the cup. You smiled reassuringly. Resting your pretty head on your hand, you gazed at him. You knew exactly what he was getting at. Knew exactly what game he was playing. He needed someone to teach the boy. You needed protection and a ride. “Like I said. I can protect myself.”, you teased. “Someone watching your back would be a relief though, wouldn’t it?”, he asked, leaning forward also. “Oh sure sure. For you as well…I suppose. It’s always safer when you have a partner.”, you suggested, tilting your head. “As long as it is someone you can trust.”, he challenged. “Yes, Yes…someone you can turn your back to. Or trust with respecting your religion.”, you alluded to your situation. “Exactly.”, he simply added. His heart was pounding. “Exactly.”, you spoke, so softly and silently, that it was a mere whisper. You sighted, looking down at the table, before you decided to be honest with him.

“I can’t promise you that I'll be able to train your foundling.”, you explained. Looking down at your hands, playing with the cup between them. He took his sweet time to answer. But when he did, he sounded honest and genuine. I can’t promise to always protect you. But if you come with us, and train my boy, then i will give my life to try.” You looked up into his visor. He stared you down. You liked those conditions. A few hours later, you found yourself on the Razor crest.

III. Gazing There were moments when Din cursed his helmet. Like when he wanted you to see him. When he needed you to look into his eyes and see the feelings he held, or the smile he threw you. There were also moments when he was more grateful than he ever was for the helmet. Like now, were you were stretching and working on the upper corners of the ship. He stood close to you, leaned against a wall of the Razor Crest, watching you messing with his ship. When you had reached the ship, you had decided that it was for once: not child friendly and secondly: not really suited for two people to life on. “So this is where you sleep.”, you had sighted, standing before his bed, hands crossed before your chest. “Yes.”, he answered, shrugging slightly, as he stood right next to you. He never cared much about comfort. “And the child?”, you asked. “In the…in the cabinet. Most of the time..”, he admitted. You threw him a disappointed look. He nearly crumbled beneath it, visibly flinching. “And me? Where would I stay? How would you eat without being seen by me?”, you challenged, now turning to face him and not the makeshift mattress that he called a bed. He frowned underneath the helmet. You could sleep in his bed. With him. And you could just get married. So the helmet would be no problem. - he daydreamed. “Well we…”, he muttered. “We need an extra wall. And you need a real bed. And we need a real kitchen in here…and a little space up there for the kid…”, you thought out loud, sighting, you added: “We’ll get some things from my space…then we’ll head to the market.” He frowned harder. “All that will…cost us…”,he worried. You threw him a look over your shoulder as you headed out. “You won’t need to worry about credits.”, you smiled. So there he was, watching you work. Watching your body move as you hammered and build. Wearing a tight pair of pants and having shed down to a simple top, he hardly could keep his eyes off of you. Barely could work around you. This break that he took? - it was well deserved. He wasn’t used to company. Especially not female company. Especially not being so smitten. So he kept watching. Watching your hips move and catching glances at your chest whenever you hoped down from the cockpit, suppressing a longing sigh at the back of his throat. What had he done. Weeks with you hadn't changed that occurrence much. It got worse, if anything. The Razor Crest shone in new beauty and in a strange way, that he couldn’t explain, you two had transformed the ship to something resembling a home for the three of you. Mando still wasn’t used to someone around him all the time. He especially wasn’t used to you being so…nice. Even if you were officially just: His son's teacher. You treated him with respect. Were curious about his upbringing and way of living. You cooked for the three of you and you trained Grogu with love and care. He was truly and utterly lost. He also was used to always being completely in armor. Dressed from head to toe. Even his hands rarely left his gloves. Seeing you, on a hot planet on a sunny day, sitting outside with Grogu in a Meditative stance, your shoulders bare and the rest of your body covered only by a soft silk dress that flowed delicately in the soft breeze made him…feel things. He stared at you. Couldn’t stop himself. Couldn’t not imagine his hands running over your shoulder, down your neckline, over your cheek. Softly placing his helmet against your forehead in a Mandalorian kiss while his hands roamed over your back and up to get entangled in your endlessly soft hair. He was so amorous it was sickening. The way you moved. The way you smiled and laughed. The way you sat with him on long journeys, listening so very genuine to the stories you made him tell. About memories he sometimes didn’t even remember having. The way you handled Grogu, with such care and softness and yet a guiding hand. The way you cared for him when he returned from a job. The way you watched his back when you when with him on jobs. The way your eyes scanned his helmet,

the wonder he could see in them as you puzzled what he might look like. It nearly ate him alive. It did every night when he laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling, knowing your were barely a few strides away. And that it was dark in the ship. That he could just head over and have you feel him. Just the thought of touching you would make him dizzy. And so he stood watching you for minutes on end as you meditated with his beloved foundling, or made stones levitate around you, or showed him how to bring trinkets to him, through the air. And when you turned your head to him, smiling softly at him, trying your best to suppress a small chuckle. Knowing he did not know, that you could catch glances of all the sweet and not so sweet thoughts in his head. The man really had no idea about anything Jedi, you thought, hearing Grogu coo in agreement. "I'll tell him in time...", you'd promise.

To be continued? If you like it?

[fanfuckingfic]

Shine and Polish

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Request: "Din catches you cleaning/polishing his armor for him (something usually only done between courting Mandos) and gets all shy explaining the implications to you send tweet"

Warnings: mild language, mature themes, Din in sweatpants, I think that's it?? Idk it's a short one

AN: I want to formally apologize to all of you who sent Din requests to my inbox that have been sitting there for a while, I promise I see you, I just had such a hard time finding the right motivation and inspiration for these pieces. Hopefully I can get the others pumped out in a decent timeline as well 🤞 Thanks @deceiverofgodss for bullying me into working on this, ily 💛 I hope you guys enjoy!

The beskar armor was a large part of his intimidation. It widened his frame – which was admittedly big enough without it – making him bulkier, heavier, a force to be reckoned with. It represented the history of warriors before him, Mandalorians through generations maintaining their reputation of being a people you don’t come back from a fight with. The dark visors and emotionless helmets only helped on that front, he couldn’t even count how many people had tried to back their way out of trouble with one silent look from him. 

Each beskar’gam was unique to the Mandalorian wearing it, and they take special care to make sure it looks as intimidating as wearing it makes them feel. Some go out of their way to paint their beskar, symbolizing their journey with specific colors and designs of their heritage. For Din, it’s keeping the pure metal shined and polished – it turns heads and sends a whisper through the crowd at the mere sight of him. 

It takes a lot to keep it that way. 

He’d had to get his new armor after the Mud horn, but getting out the mud caked into the rest of it had taken much longer than he cared to admit. Being swallowed by the Krayt Dragon and then walking through the Tatooine desert had left him scrubbing the dried goo from crevices he didn’t know existed for hours after you and the kid had fallen asleep. And now, he could only imagine the hassle it would be getting all the blood that kriffing Nexu had gotten all over his armor. 

Din was damn near ready to collapse when you all had gotten back to your room at the inn, but he could feel the dirt and grime that was building up underneath his flight suit. He watched you launch Grogu into the air a few times, hugging him close as you flopped down onto one of the small beds, and sending a wink Din’s way. 

You were a saint. With the kid nestled into your arms and properly distracted, he began stripping off his Beskar and setting it down on the caf table. He’d have to get to it after he got out of the ‘fresher. One more glance over at you, smiling to himself as little green hands grabbed your cheeks to try and escape your barrage of kisses, and he slipped into the bathroom. 

The reflection looking back at him in the mirror was rough, to say the least, but when the hot water pounded into his skin the rest of the galaxy faded away. 

It felt like heaven. He let it run across his face as he tried to revive his hair, though he didn’t know what difference it would make, it would be flattened under the helmet again once he stepped out. The pressure of the water worked wonders on the knots in his shoulders. He’d have to find a way to get those out sooner rather than later. Maybe he could sweet talk you into helping… He could just imagine how your nimble fingers would feel gliding across his skin, easing his muscles, gripping his shoulders while he-

No. That was enough of that. Dangerous territory Djarin, keep it together. 

You’d been traveling with Din for… well, it had been a long time now. You’d been with him through thick and thin, been there well before he’d picked up a strange bounty from an imperial imp, and fallen in love with the little green bounty just as much as he had. And after having lost the kid and gotten him back, a handful of times Din had still yet to tell you how he felt. At least, not in a way you’d be able to pick up on. 

Each day that passed where he would choke on his words, he watched you instead. He knew what would catch your eye as you walked through the markets on rural planets, he knew your favorite foods and could tell what you would get for yourself – often before you did. He knew how to read your body language as well as you had come to read his, and you were so in tune with each other that it felt as if you’d known each other your whole lives. 

So why couldn’t he just fucking say what he meant? Instead, he stood by your side and watched as that pretty smile formed on your cheeks, watched your eyes sparkle in the starlight, watched you smother Grogu in loving affection… All he ever did was watch. 

He wanted to take your hand for more reasons than pulling you along behind him, he wanted to do it for no reason. He wanted to stand too close and put his hand at the small of your back, brush his bare thumb across your cheek to comfort you, hold you close to keep you warm late at night. He wanted to run his hands over all your curves, see your pupils blown wide as you looked up at him, feel you quiver beneath him as he-

Dank farrik, cut it out. Din turned the water ice cold to shake himself of the thoughts, pushing them back into the corners of his mind where they belonged. He couldn’t afford to think of you like that, not while he kept watching without saying a damn word about how he felt. 

He took his time leaving the room that was now filled with humid air and steam from his shower. It had made it easier to clean the blood that had splattered on his helmet, polishing it to look as clean as he felt. He dressed in a fresh set of lounge clothes – an investment he’d made at your insistence, and one he’d thanked you for every time the soft clothes draped against his skin – and placed the helmet back on his head, ready to face the rest of his party once again. 

With you, he was prepared for anything. He loved your wild spirit, a shining beacon of your warmth in a galaxy that was otherwise cold and unkind. What he wasn’t prepared for was to see you sitting on the floor with his beskar in your hands, half of the pieces on the caf table having been cleaned and polished. 

It was times like these he was thankful he was hidden behind the helmet, because his cheeks were burning in an incriminating shade of red. 

“I like your pants, Din,” you smiled, only looking up from his shoulder piece to give him a playful smirk. And was that..? Of fucking course it was the one with his signet. Cause that’s what he needed right now. “Those the really soft ones I convinced you to get on Naboo?”

“I- yeah… they’re uh, nice,” he managed, feet rooted to the spot, unable to take his eyes off of the way you were being so delicate with his armor. 

“Oh, they’re nice. Well, aren’t you chatty.” Any other time, he might’ve laughed. Currently, his brain was rewiring itself. His lack of response must have been noticeable because now you were setting your rag aside and giving him a concerned look. “Is everything okay?” 

If ever there was a loaded question, that would be it. 

“Yeah, just fine.” A cock of your eyebrow told him that you didn’t believe him, but he couldn’t seem to get any words of consolation out of his mouth. A few more beats of silence passed, Din tried swallowing the lump in his throat a few times, and then he saw something in your expression shift. You were figuring it out… Your focus shifted back down to the shoulder piece in your hand, drifted to the others on the caf table beside you, and found his again with worry in your eyes. 

“Have I done something wrong?”

“No,” he was quick to assure you. “No, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Are you sure? I haven’t broken some sacred bond between you and your armor?” His heart was hammering in his chest, but you were still able to get an amused huff out of him, which you had told him were barely audible outside of the helmet. He shook his head to answer your question, and in response, you set the now shining shoulder piece back with the rest of his armor. “Will you tell me what’s going on then? You’re freaking me out.”

Maker, where would he start? 

He took a deep breath and decided to take a seat on the floor across from you, leaning against the side of the table. He bent his knees so his feet were flat – grounding him, in a way – his arms rested on top of them. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, possibly giving the appearance that he was relaxing, giving his body a rest. It couldn’t have been farther from the truth. 

“When a Mandalorian cleans another’s armor, it’s a representation of trust,” he started, figuring it would be better if he led with an explanation instead of a blunt answer. “The one removing their armor becomes vulnerable, unprotected by their beskar; they are trusting the other with that vulnerability. And as the other polishes the armor they’ve been trusted with, they help prepare them for battle.”

“That’s beautiful,” you whispered, and only then did he dare look at you. A soft smile graced your cheeks, very visibly put at ease at not having made some great offense to his creed. 

“It’s… a very common courting ritual.” Your eyes widened, and your lips parted in realization. Din didn’t know if he wanted to grab you, pull you into his lap and tell you exactly what had been on his mind the second he saw you with his armor… or if he wanted to run from the room until you could both forget about this entirely. 

He was on the verge of opening his mouth to take it back, to assure you it didn’t always have to mean something that significant – even if that would be a lie – but you beat him to the punch. 

“Tell me more,” you lilted, head tilted in curiosity. “What else do courting Mandos do?” His nerves would have done well with a very large glass of spotchka to have this conversation, though having a sober judgment was probably in his best interest. 

“Mandalorians are big on hidden meanings, a lot of what we do tends to symbolize something bigger.” 

“I’ve noticed,” you smiled, easing his nerves enough to get another small laugh out of him. 

“In a way, it’s somewhat similar to any other relationship. Building trust, getting to know each other, spending time together. The difference is in that underlying meaning, our rituals intended to show how together you both will honor the Resol'nare.” He paused to give you a minute to take it in, stop him if you needed further explanation, but your evident eagerness prompted him forward. “They usually represent how you will contribute to the community together, how you will provide for one another. How you will rear children together.” 

That last statement made his heart skip and sent an electric shot through his body – and to a part of him that didn’t need to be present in this conversation. 

“I guess that makes sense, there’s no Resol’nare in a non-mando relationship, but you still try to figure out how a life together is going to look,” you agreed. “Are most of your rituals like this one? Providing acts of service to your partner?”

“A good many of them, yes. Polishing armor, cleaning weapons…” You were too clever for him to get away with this, he saw the slight tilt of your lips as the same realization hit you both; he always cleaned your weapons for you. Even after he’d taught you how to clean your blaster, he would hold out his hand and make some kind of excuse about it being easier since he was already cleaning his own. 

He could recover from this. “Some gift handcrafted weapons, and if their bond is strong enough, those weapons will bear the other’s signet.” He’d yet to give you a mudhorn, that one was easy. Given, there weren’t very many items that had a mudhorn on them in passing, otherwise he might not have been able to resist the temptation. But while he was in the clear, he watched the slight drop in your demeanor. 

“Are you allowed to so openly wear someone else’s signet?” 

“Not on your armor. But with a weapon, it is a gift that you may carry the other’s signet while courting, not necessarily that you may wear it as your own.” You nodded in understanding, and he waited for that slight knowing smile to come back to your cheeks, and was surprised at his disappointment when it didn’t. He was in the clear, you wouldn’t suspect him… 

And maybe he didn’t want that anymore. 

“That one is more formal, but there are others to do with hunting and providing,” he said quickly, acting on instinct to try and reel you back in. “A basic, instinctive display of protection; bringing meats and hides from your hunt, preparing their favorite foods…” He couldn’t find the words to continue anymore when your gaze met his visor and softened. You figured him out, and his heart may have been beating in his ears, but he was no less confident in his quiet admission. 

“Din?” you asked gently, and he said your name in acknowledgement. “Have you been flirting with me?” 

“Yes.” The sparkling smile that spread across your cheeks sent a warm feeling through his body. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I needed time. That was the only way I knew how to do anything about it without making a fool of myself, or ruining one of the few good things that I have,” he smiled, and you turned away from him to hide your own flustered expression. 

“That’s not fair! I didn’t know that’s what you were doing,” you laughed. 

“That was the point,” he smiled, and you shook your head exasperatedly as your gaze settled back out into the room. He followed your line of sight, landing on the child as he sat happily in the cocoon of blankets and toys you had crafted for him on one of the beds. 

Din felt a familiar ache as he watched his foundling, one that longed for these little domestic routines with your mis-matched family. He tried to ignore them because of the desire for you they had a tendency to inspire, despite the fact that no matter what he liked to call you, the three of you were a family in your own way. And yet, this time felt different. It felt comfortable. 

He caught your movement in his peripherals, turning his head slightly to find you grinning curiously at him. “Now that I know… how do you feel?” He took a second to inhale before he responded, steadying himself. 

“That depends. Other than your piqued interest, I still don’t have an answer to how you feel.” He was sure you saw right through him; he wasn’t an ignorant man, he could assume how you felt based on your response. But he’d done enough of that. Besides, it was your turn to be the one spilling your guts.  

“Well… I’ll tell you that now I know where I’ll pick up dinner tonight.”

“That’s not what I-” 

“The cantina we passed in town, they have that soup I know you love,” you started, quick to cut him off and make him see your damn point. “I don’t know if it counts because I didn’t prepare it, but that’s the best I can do for now. You’re just gonna have to read between the lines, Mandalorian.” He only stared at you for a few moments, taking in your growing smile, warm and mischievous in a way that was so unique to you. 

You were flirting back at him. 

You liked him. 

Instead of finding words to reply, having used up his usual quota, Din shifted in his place on the floor to reach out for you. Your soft laughter lit up his entire body as he pulled you closer, and you slid into his lap with ease. He could no longer deny himself with your half-spoken admission, giving in to the part of him that needed to have you close as often as he could manage.

Thanks for reading!! If you’d like to be notified when I post a new fic, be sure to follow @writerlyhabits-library + turn on post notifications! 💛

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[fanfuckingfic]

Kinktober Day 13—Dry Humping—Din Djarin

Din Djarin x gn!reader

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Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x gn!reader Summary: Sometimes, you and Din share a bed. Word Count: 2.1 K Rating: Explicit | 18+ only! Warnings: NSFW! Allusions to masturbation, lots of kissing, dry humping, cumming in pants. Inexperienced/touch-starved Din, the helmet comes off, a sprinkle of feelings. A mention of a brief illness. Very vague in the Mando timeline, no mention of Grogu. A/N: This fic is dedicated to the one, the only @radiowallet who encouraged me with all the love in her heart as I dipped my toe into the Din-pool (and helped to allay my fears around all things Star Wars), and honestly, has just been one of the best people I've had the pleasure of knowing. 💜

*

The first time you shared a bed with Din, it had been out of necessity.

An inn on the edge of the outer rim, with a final vacancy, the bed at the center of the room. 

One bed.

You could’ve laughed, but you were too tired to care. 

Thankfully, it was large enough for you both. With little fuss, you crawled in, savoring the luxury of all things soft—sheets, mattress, pillows. Din yielded most of the space to you, sticking to the edge, never bothering to remove his boots or an ounce of beskar, the pillow beneath his head compressing with the added weight of his helmet. His deep, modulated breaths lulled you into a safe, secure sleep that night.

You woke early the next morning, entirely too warm, a heavy arm draped across your torso, the hard press of beskar between your shoulder blades, the press of something impossibly harder at the small of your back. Your body knew what it was before your brain fully woke up, responding in kind, a lightning bolt of arousal up your spine. You shifted just enough to take the weight off your hip, sore from staying in the same position for too long, but it was enough. Din woke with a start, bolting from the bed, a soft apology rasping through his modulator.

While he tasked himself with finding a suitable breakfast, you fell apart on your hand, the scent of leather and blaster smoke still embedded in the sheets next to you. 

Neither of you mentioned the position you woke up in as you made the day-long trek back to the ship.

The second time you shared a bed with Din, it had been an accident. You had been sick with a terrible bug, the blankets on your cot soaked in sweat, your feverish dreams frightful, causing you to call out for him in a haze of delirium. He helped you into the ‘fresher, encouraging a cool shower, before tucking you into his bunk, promising he’d keep watch over you while you slept.

You still don’t remember much from that night. It comes to you in flashes, pieces of the memory lost to a body fighting a fever. Din’s soft, comforting coos. The back of his bare hand brushing over your forehead. The clank of beskar as he stripped down to his flight suit. You’d been too delirious then to realize just how significant that had been—this stoic man shedding his amour in your presence.

The following morning, you woke, fever subsided, his warm chest beneath your cheek.

Din hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but then, you hadn’t meant to drape your body over his. He roused, only briefly, his arm pulling you snugly into his side, a contented sigh crackling through his modulator, and you both found a few more hours of much-needed, peaceful sleep.

From there, you often found yourself in Din’s bunk on purpose, seeking quiet comfort in the inky darkness.

Your touches were tentative but curious, fingertips brushing collarbones, shoulders, and arms until they intertwined, savoring the feeling of skin on skin. Your legs tangled in a swish of soft fabric, Din eventually caving in and wearing the set of sleep clothes you’d purchased for him in an attempt to give the hard man a spot of comfort he often denied himself.

In the dark, you mapped out the planes of each other’s bodies, memorizing every dip, curve, and wrinkle your fingertips could uncover.

It was a delicious kind of agony to have the bounty hunter’s hands on your body; his gloves shed, his skin lingering over yours, savoring a sensation he never sought with anyone else for as long as you’ve known him. It was electrifying in its own right, feeling his touch graze your arm, the exposed sliver of skin at your hip, the hollow of your throat. You couldn’t see him in the dark, but you could feel him everywhere, overwhelming every other sense with just the brush of his hands.

One night, his hand ventured above your neck, palm curling over your jaw, his thumb settling over your lips. Brushing the pad across them once, he asked a question, his whisper so low the modulator barely picked it up. 

“What does it feel like?”

It only took you a moment to understand.

Din’s never been kissed. 

Your lips pursed against the pad of his thumb, doling out the softest kiss you could muster.

“It’s…nice,” you started, feeling his thumb tug slightly on your bottom lip. “It can be a lot of things, actually. But nice is definitely one of them.”

Din’s thumb traced your lips for a few beats, quiet breaths filling the dark bunk.

“Would you like to find out?” you finally whispered, feeling Din still next to you. You held your breath, wondering if you’d gone too far, stepped over a boundary you had no intention of invading, and then you heard it—a shaky, unmodulated breath, followed by an even shakier yes.

You allowed him to take his time, pulling you close, his mouth hovering over yours, warm breath ghosting across your cheeks. Your hand settled on his chest, directly over his rapid heartbeat, fingertips stroking the fabric of his shirt to soothe him. 

“It’s okay,” you murmured, and then Din stole the breath from your lungs, pressing his lips to yours. The edge of his helmet dug into the bridge of your nose, but you didn’t care, the cool beskar a nice contrast against the heat of his mouth. Din whimpered, his fingers digging into your cheek, and you molded your lips to his in two more soft, sweet kisses.

He sought more, pressing his mouth to yours more firmly, uncharacteristically uncoordinated, his teeth scraping your bottom lip in a way that sent chills down your spine. You gasped, fingertips gripping his shirt, and he pulled away.

“Did I hurt you?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“No, Din. I’m good. We’re good,” you paused, licking your lips, tongue desperately searching for even the slightest lingering taste of him. “Was that nice?”

“Yeah,” Din breathed, his voice modulated once more, and you tried to ignore how disappointment sliced through you.

If Din needed to go slow, you were happy to let him choose the pace.

You’ve spent each night in his bunk since.

Some nights you merely clung to one another; others, you explored more kissing. Each time, his helmet lifted a little higher off his head, until he eventually abandoned it somewhere in the darkness of the bunk. Your fingertips traced the edges of his face, trying to commit everything to memory—the stubble along his jaw, the patch of facial hair over his top lip, the arch of his nose, the soft silk of his hair. In return, he kissed you in earnest, deepening it each time, only startling once, the first time you brushed your tongue against his.

“Okay?” you’d asked, thumb stroking his cheek. You felt him nod beneath your fingers, his response breathless.

“More than okay.”

Things got easier from there. 

Now, most nights end with the two of you wrapped close in one another, kissing the air from the other’s lungs.

Din, a quick study, took no time to learn precisely how you liked to be kissed and never failed to deliver. He always started out with slow, soft, breathy pecks that simmered for some time until he allowed them to bloom into deeper, heated, eager kisses.

Tonight, it’s all-encompassing.

He licks into your mouth with reckless abandon, so unlike the man the rest of the galaxy knows as a fierce bounty hunter, sending a new kind of thrill through you. He’s keen tonight, groans planted on your tongue, strong fingers curling into your thigh, drawing it up and over his hip, slotting you together.

You feel him, hard and pulsing under his soft sleep pants, jutting against where your body wants him the most.

“Oh, shit, that feels good,” you utter against his mouth, feeling his lips curve into a rare, somewhat shy smile. He hums, pulling you in for another kiss, slotting his body tight to yours. Your back presses into the bunk wall, trapped between the cool metal and Din’s warm bulk, and there’s nowhere else in the universe you’d rather be.

Din’s the first to move his hips, drawing surprised gasps from you both, a shudder running through you. He pauses, lips hesitating over yours, a raspy question catching in his throat. 

“Okay?”

“More than okay,” you confirm, drawing his mouth back over yours. 

Din grinds his hips against you, plundering your mouth with his, your senses suffocating until he’s filled up each one, blinding you with pleasure. You can’t get enough, your mind skittering away, waves of heat sloshing low in your belly, Din moaning into your mouth, just as affected as you. As his desperation skyrockets, his hips grow more insistent and sloppy, deliciously uncoordinated in the best possible way. 

Everything feels like floating, your skin buzzing from head to toe, pleasure rocketing down your spine, and settling at the base. With a grunt, Din’s hips halt against you, pressed in so close you swear you can feel his heartbeat between your legs.

“We should stop, or I’ll–” he bites off, lips moving to your neck, his voice like gravel against your skin. He sounds fucked out and breathless—carefree—as if his only obstacle in all of space is two thin pairs of sleep pants. If he asked, yours would be off in a blink, but you’re all too aware that he prefers this slow pace the two of you have been taking. 

Your fingers tuck into his silken strands, giving a slight tug, and Din’s whimper is music to your ears. 

“If we keep going, I will too,” you admit, drawing a foreign curse from his lips. His fingers grip your hip crushingly tight, a strong clutch you’d stop at nothing to find yourself under every evening, and his mouth seeks yours in the pitch black once more.

He ruts against you again, his movements firmer than before, each thrust of his hips sending liquid fire up your spine. You whimper into his mouth, your kisses frantic between puffs of gasping breath, tongue attempting to dance between each moan. Din shifts, planting one foot on the bunk wall behind him, the thunk a loud echo through the small, dark space. The extra leverage allows him to crush your bodies together, with nowhere else for you to go, succumbing to the flow of pleasure between your bodies. 

Everything pulls in tight, banding across your stomach, and you pull your mouth from him just to catch your breath. Sweat breaks across your brow, Din’s hips stoking the fire in your belly with each stroke, his skin heated and damp to the touch when your forehead finds his.

A grunt drops from his mouth, pitching up into a soft whine at the end, and his hips shift into something sloppy and erratic against your own. He’s right there; you both are; you can practically taste it in the air between you.

You suck in one last breath and then hear Din’s gasp, and that’s all it takes for you to break. 

Pleasure courses through your veins, exploding across your skin, forcing your eyes shut even in the inky blackness around you. Din’s groans join yours, bouncing off the bunk walls, his hips rutting into yours with a level of desperation you’ve never seen from the man, your name a prayer on his lips. You cling to him, riding through your orgasms together, surrounded by him, his breaths the only thing forcing air into your lungs.

You never knew it was possible to drown in another person.

You can think of worse ways to go. 

Din’s hips begin to slow, syrupy rolls drawing tendrils of pleasure from you both, his mouth meeting yours in a messy kiss. He softens against you, his breathy pants ghosting over your lips, his fingertips soothing the bruise-tender skin on your hip. Your hand cups his jaw, thumb stroking over a week’s worth of stubble, sharing a few sickly sweet kisses. You pull away, blinking your eyes open into the dark, briefly imagining the color of his eyes. 

Brown, you think, warm and soft, just like he is in these quiet moments between you.

“Was that okay?” you ask, and you can hear the smile draw across his pleasure-warmed cheeks, curling up under your hand. He chuckles, amused, a touch embarrassed, endearingly adorable all the same as he gives you his answer. 

“More than okay, Mesh’la.”

*

A/N: This was my first go at writing Din. While I enjoy reading all sorts of versions of him, including large and in-charge, something in me wanted to explore the idea of a Din who's never been kissed before. I wrote this all in one morning, letting the idea flow. I hope you enjoyed it! 💜

[fanfuckingfic]

Soft for you

Summary: You had a rough day and it turns out your Mandalorian is capable of so much more care and softness than you'd ever expected. Warning: So much pining. So much softness and adoration. Some nudity. Basically just heartwarming stuff to make your day better. A/N: For the people who have rough days and want to read something nice to channel those good Mando-dreams before bed Din Djarin stared ahead, feeling utterly helpless. His heart hammered against his chest, his muscles tightened and his stomach seemed to turn and yet all he could do was…standing at the hatch and staring into the ship. He’d never seen you like that. Beaten, bloody and angry? Yes. Sad also. But never like that. Never….defeated. He decided then and there to do something about it.

A low sigh escaped him. A deep frown on his face as he watched you enter his ship. The whole way back you hadn’t said a word. The whole way. You had draped yourself in frustrated silence and he was absolutely unsure of how you were feeling or what you were going through. The job had went completely sideways. You were to play Bodyguard. It was easy enough. Well it turned out it wasn’t. And it was nobody’s fault either. Nobody’s. There was a sniper - things happened - you couldn’t have known. Jobs went sideways. It was just the way things went. Sometimes life took strange turns that seem utterly nonsensical and still - one had to life with that. He had tried to tell you all that. But you had shut him up, angrily glared at him and since then you had made your way back in silence. Still draped in the girls blood you had tensed up, shut yourself of and simply strutted alongside him all the way back to the ship. Neither him nor you got hurt. So all damage that was done was….psychological. And Din wasn’t very good with dealing with that. He could wrap you up, patch you up, care for a severed limb if need be - but this? He wasn’t good with it. Had no idea what to do. When jobs messed him up he would sit in silence and just eat it all up. It was an absolutely bad coping strategy but it was his way to deal with it and it worked. However with you…he didn’t want you to eat it up. Or push it down. His heart ached just seeing you like this. Not that he’d ever tell you, but he wanted you to feel...well feel good. Feel safe and alright. The second you had entered the ship you had went straight for the refresher. He was still left standing on the hatch. Feeling mighty uncomfortable in his inability to be helpful in any way. Din sighted again. Helmet hanging low. He had to do something. No matter how much you’d argue with him. He couldn’t help himself. Stepping in, he carefully closed in to the Refresher with light steps. You hadn’t closed the door behind you and he glanced in, seeing you standing in front of the mirror, before knocking softly. You turned your head only slightly, already noticing his shiny reflection in the mirror. Din waited patiently to be invited in, but your silence prevailed. After a few seconds and you continuing examine yourself he decided to enter, softly closing the door behind him. The refresher was small. Tiny really. So the broad Mandalorian really had to squish into a corner to give you at least a little space. He watched you closely. As you threw water up into your face again and again, trying desperately to get the blood washed off your face. Your client had stood right next to you as it happened. Din hadn’t had a single drop on his armor while you seemed quite soaked in red staines. Din wasn’t good at reading people. Not really. Mal intentions, yes, but not this. You seemed…frustrated, if he had to take a guess. Utterly and completely. Probably angry. Probably angry at him. The thought made his stomach twist. Oh no. You were angry at him. Of course. It had to be it. He had dragged you with him on that job. Had not seen the danger. He had failed and now you were angry and- “Do you want to get Grogu? Or should I?”, you asked, breaking his vicious circle of damning thoughts. Your voice was cold. Precise. Angry. Displeased. He couldn’t even think of enough negative words to describe it. Din only knew he hated it and he would never want to you speak like that ever again. “I…”, he started, then closed his mouth again. Something had changed in your posture. You had been so tense. So strained. Now you seemed to slumb down, really. Having stepped a step back from the sink, lowering your head to look down, bowing over it. “He can stay with Cara for a bit longer…”, he finished. Carefully. Treading lightly to finally speak with you again. You nodded. Weakly. Your hair covering his line of sight to your face. Maker he felt horrid. Was there nothing he could do? Nothing? What did people do to pick others up? To make them happy? He hated himself for not

knowing. Cursed all those years that he lived all by himself, completely unlearning all kinds of social skills. “I want to help you…” You turned you head at him. He had sounded…insecure? The great Mandalorian before you. Broad and tall and strong sounded so very fragile. So very lost. You were so pent up. So angry. Trying your very best to keep your emotions settled like your Master had once taught you. It was all eating you up really, but this man. This man right there, standing timidly in the corner, melted your heart. If things hadn’t been enough already today, your Mandalorian being all soft for you definitely brought you over the edge and you pushed yourself up, standing before him, just … letting go. Your shoulders hang low, tears in your eyes and frown on your face you looked straight at him, shrugging softly. All strength had left you really. And if he wanted to help you…ferrik, then you would take any helping hand. “I…I just want to get all the blood off of me and it…it just won’t come off I…”, you started, noticing only now how timid you sounded as your hand ran through your hair. Before you could say another word the man before you had stepped closer in an instance, softly grasping your shoulders before turning you away in the softest manner. He had rushed past you, grasping in to the shower to put the water on hot. You frowned, looking up at the familiar helmet. “I’ll get it off. Give me one second.”, he muttered. You stared at him. Wide eyed. Was he serious? Was the great Mandalorian, killer and feared bounty hunter going to go all soft caretaker on you? Little did you know that Din was just as surprised by himself. He had just….acted. Right now his heart was beating a parsec a minute and all he could do was stay with his plan and keep going. So he did. He moved around you again, opening the cupboard and grabbing your brush, that he knew you kept in there. Then he sat down on one of the crates in the corner, placing his hand on his thigh. “Come here.” You turned your head to watch him. Still slightly shocked by his behavior. Mando had always been nice to you. Sure. He was respectful and helped were he could while you taught his little One, yet still. This was taking niceness to another level. His voice though…it did things to you. So soft and yet demanding as he gestured at his thigh. Your gaze wandered back up to the helmet. “Are you sure? Won’t I be too heavy?”, you asked, carefully. A small chuckle could be heard through the Modulator, as he once again patted his thigh. “Come here now.”, he demanded again. Even softer this time. Taking a shaky inhale, you head over to him. You tried to be as gently as possible, sitting down onto his thight, noticing quite quickly that no, you were not to heavy. The man was build like a tank and you soon found yourself enjoying the closeness. So did Din. Who still was uncertain about what he was doing, but got bolder and more sure of it by the second. Maker you looked so very beautiful all close to him. Slowly he took off his gloves, placing them to the side. He would want to run his fingers through that hair. Through every strand and every soft wave. And so he did. Took that leap of fave and let his hand run through your hair as he’d longed for so often. As carefully as he could, he placed the brush up against your head and began brushing downwards. You tensed. Noticing how warily he was brushing your hair. How concentrated he was not to do any harm as he worked away, entangling your dirty strands. It took a few strokes for you to relax. To just give in and accept. Accept that after this horrid day he was right there for you. Without even really noticing you had closed your eyes. Giving in to the soft strokes and the slight touch of his thigh between yours. A small relaxing sigh escaped you and little did you know that it send shivers down Mandos’s spine. Who probably enjoyed this even more than you did. Having you close. Like this. He’d lie if he’d say he hadn’t imagined it a thousand times. Even as your hair

was completely brushed, he still couldn’t stop himself going through it again and again. Not wanting you to part from him. You were close to falling asleep right there on his lap. You were exhausted and angry with the world. And that Broad man behind you just gave you a kind of peace and security that you hadn’t imagined for the life of you.

You were still angry at the world. Still frustrated. But you wanted to cling to him. Let him shield you from it. Just for tonight. “Carefull.”, he warned suddenly, voice all raspy. You turned your head, noticing that he had put the brush aside, wanting you to get off. “Oh…sorry.”, you whispered, parting from him and standing up. You hated the separation. Could have stayed on the man’s lap for an eternity really. He quickly rose to his feet behind you. His hands placed on your shoulders. “Come here now.”, he urged softly, his hands roaming down your body. Yet again you tensed slightly, not knowing what he planned on doing next. When you felt his hands, his real hands, no gloves, on your waist, slightly lifting your shirt you felt as if a thousand butterflies went of inside your tummy. Wide eyed you stared ahead, not moving as you felt him tucking your top higher and higher, until you lifted your arms for him to take it off completely. You didn’t know if to be shy or shocked or completely enamored, as you crossed your arms in front of your chest, turning you head to look over your shoulder. There he stood. Tall behind you, holding your shirt in his hands. “I’m not looking, no worries. I’ll just turn the Water on and get the temperature right and then I’ll be off.”, he explained, helmet bowed respectfully. You were frozen. Completely shocked at just how loving, adoring and absolutely chivalrous this man was behaving. “I…yes. Thank you…”, you near whispered. Noticing the embarrassing blush on your face as you looked into the mirror. A blush that Din didn’t think at all embarrassing. If it were up to him he’d shut down the lights and get in there with you. Fulfilling his greatest wish. But he was being extremely bold already. No need to make it worse. He had meanwhile softly pushed his way past you, feeling out the temperature of the water to be not too hot or too cold. You could use up all the warm water you had left - he didn’t mind in the slightest. And if he’d had to sell his Razor crest for you to feel better again, he would without hesitation.

“Okay. Should be good. You take your time. If there’s anything you need. Call me”, he assured you, nodding one last time, trying not to look at your barely dressed self until he went over to the door, leaving. You were left, puzzled. Reluctantly getting undressed and stepping into the shower. An hour ago you felt horrid. Drained and tired and worried and angry and now? Now you stood in your underwear, hair brushed and warm water flowing down your back. Staring at the metal wall before you. All worries forgotten. All that stayed was…moments of an beskar clad man letting your sit on his lap and lovingly brushing your hair before undressing you. What was that? Why did he do that? You blushed again, heat suddenly rising to your head. Not just your head though. You felt comfortable and warm in the water and you ran your hands over your hair, down your face, washing away all the trouble and worries, leaving only the memory of one Mandalorian and his rough hands brushing up against your sides as he pulled the fabric off your body.

You emerged from the refresher a good 20 minutes later. Hair damply hanging over your shoulder, towel wrapped around your bare body. The ship was cold compared to the small now steamy room and you felt goosebumps on your arms. Din had basically shot up the second he had heard the door open. He had set on a nearby crate, arms comfortably crossed before his chest - until the moment he had jumped up to walk towards you. You. He halted for a second there to look at you. Only wrapped in a towel. Your beautiful hair running down your back, your lips and cheeks reddened from the hot water, your eyes trained on him. The memory of you sitting in his lap, so close to him and of the feeling of your soft soft skin hadn’t left him for even a minute as he’d waited for you. It made him nervous. You made him nervous. All Din wanted was for you to be okay again and he would make sure he’d succeed. “How do you feel?”, he asked, coming to a halt just before you. You looked up at the tall man, smiling shyly. “Better. Really. Thank you.”, you answered with a small nod. “You’re cold…”, he noticed, eyes trained on your arms, then roaming up to the crease of your collar bones, lingering there for just a while, “Here, i thought you might…” He held some brown fabric out for you and you took it, holding it in your hand for a moment. This wasn’t yours. The fabric was rough and washed a thousand times and…and…it was his. You noticed with a slight raise of your brows as you looked at it, feeling the fabric in your hands before you looked back up at him again. The red on your cheeks was definitely not coming from the heat of the water now. “Ah how…thoughtful of you…”, you stammered, trying not to sound to blown away by the gesture. The Mandalorian reached his hand up in a gesture the could be called ‘scratching one’s head’, yet he noticed soon enough that the helmet was in the way and it ended up just rubbing the metal instead. “Yeah I…You know what, you stay right here, get dressed, I’ll get you the tea I made.”, he muttered, obviously just as nervous as you before quickly walking away into the other direction.

He made you tea?!? You stood completely frozen, then looked back at the piece of clothing he’d given you. One of his shirts. You sighted nervously, looking one last time before dropping the towel. You stood bare naked in the middle of the ship, watching the Man's back as he stood in the kitchen, sweetening your tea. You asked yourself if this was how he felt sometimes. That any moment you could just turn around and see his face. You started to understand that feeling better now and quickly decided to slip into the shirt.

“Done?”, he asked carefully, having heard the rustling of fabric. “Yeah I…”, you muttered, falling silent again as he turned and…stared at you. Even through the helmet you knew he was staring. Staring straight at you. What you didn’t know was that if Din wasn’t in love already, this would’ve been the moment. The shirt was too big on you. Obviously. What he hadn’t been prepared for was just how lovely you would look in it. Having it reaching up just above your knees, sleeves hanging over your hands, your eyes wide as you looked back at him. His gaze crept lower and for a good while he watched your long, beautiful legs. “Want to sit with me?”, you asked, tilting your head. He still hadn’t moved and you decided that the strange and awkward silence should be broken before it turned into more tension.

“I’d love to.”, Mando answered. Quick and honest. You two settled on a crate that was just high enough for you to dangle your legs down and you stayed for a while. In comfortable silence as you drank your tea. The weight of the day slowly returned to you but with it settled comfort and calm this time, in the form of a man in a helmet. “It’s really good. Thank you.”, your voice rang and made him turn his head. “Huh? Oh.”, he answered as he saw you gesturing to the cup in your hands. He tried not to look too long. You melted his heart with those big eyes, sweet smile and alluring figure in his shirt. “Why…are you doing all of this for me?”, you asked, carefully. He frowned underneath the helmet, lowering his head. Your side was pressed up to his and he enjoyed it. Even enjoyed it in the silence that you’d been sitting in up until now. “I suppose I…”, he started, taking a deep breath in, “I suppose I wanted you to feel better. I’m so sorry for what happened.” He was a bit afraid of saying that: A bit afraid of your answer. And the pause that you took surely didn’t better that. “It wasn’t your fault.”, you whispered. Hands still locked around your warming cup. He turned his head again, gazing at you. “It wasn’t your neither.” he reminded you. Hoping you would take it different this time. He only heard you sigh as you stared into your tea. Taking a few calm breaths. He watched in silence at how your chest rose and fell again, knowing he’d probably always think about that now whenever he’d wear it. “I know. I am sorry for having snapped at you earlier on. It wasn’t very Jedi of me.”, you explained, a small sad smile on your lips. Din didn’t answer. He was glad, above all things, that things seemed settled. “It was…a rough day.”, you explained. And then something happened that made his heart fluttered and his hair stand on edge. You leaned over to him, your head up against his shoulder, one of your hands let go of the cup and found his thigh, giving him a light squeeze. He didn’t dare move. His whole body felt hot and as if he was going to burst but he held still. Not to disturb you. Closeness. Closeness he had been hoping for for so long with you. You were basically cuddling up against him and was so erratic he didn’t know what to do with himself. Even just holding your hand had sat him on edge. This level of contact was unprecedented and- “Wait.”, he suddenly said. You quickly pulled back, afraid you had crossed a line with him, only to see that he was…he was removing his armor. First the shoulder piece. Then the chest piece. He worked quicker than usual. One fluid motion and just like that, the metal came off. Then his outer Shirt, leaving him in his helmet and one of the same long sleeves shirts that you were wearing. You had watched in awe and in surprise at that. Not daring to say a thing. Then he moved back on the crate, his back now resting further behind on the wall. “Now.”, was all he said. You gazed at him. Confused and hesitant. And it was right then and there that a wave of insecurity washed over him. Wait, Had that been too much? Panic flooded him and his face fell to a frown, not sure how to react now. You were just sitting up there, watching him with a but of caution written all over your expression. Din knew he was a bit touch starved. Maybe even a bit too engaging with you. And now he’d gone to far. He and his stupid need had pushed you away and - He halted. Freezing up as you finally moved. He watched every of your movements with full attention as you pushed yourself further back, closer to him. You halted just mere inches before him, frowning softly. “Are you sure?”, you asked, leaving him the space to deny you. “Sure.”, he simply answered, knowing that answer with all his being. And then, just like that. It happened. You had nestled yourself into his side, his arm around your timid frame, pushing you up to him. Heaven. Din rested his head against the metal crate behind him, trying to slow his breathing. It wouldn’t use a thing. He knew that.

You had your hand on his chest and his racing heart was giving him away anyways. But he tried his best, forced himself to enjoy the moment. To just forget about that and enjoy someone touching him, hugging him, having him close. You placed your head against his shoulder, finding a comfortable position. Your hand carefully sneaked over his chest, trying to hold on. A soft chuckled escaped you, breaking the silence. He turned his head, just slightly, not to bump your head on his helmet. “What is it?”, he asked, worry obvious in his voice. You simply smiled. Then began to caress him. “You’re too broad for me. I can’t even reach across.”, you mocked, not able to get that smile of your face. His chuckled was deep and you could feel the vibration as you lay snuggled into him. “Sorry?”, he asked and you knew he had a smug look in his face behind that helmet. You grinned at that, softly shaking your head, only burrowing it further into his warm body. You got bold, moving your leg to lie over his thigh, snuggling closer so your front was pressed up against his side. The small push of his hand on your back only encouraged you. “Comfortable?”, he asked. His voice was deep. Honest and soft. Caring, really. You closed your eyes. Taking a deep breath. His scent was everywhere. On him. On you. Especially on your shirt. “Yes.” you answered. Noticing just how tired and worn out you were. And just how soft and warm he was. You slumped deeper, resting your head on his chest now, nuzzling up underneath the brim of his helmet. A soft sigh escaped him and you smiled. Happily knowing this was just as wonderful for him. “Is this…still a professional relationship between us?”, you asked, raising a brow. Not moving however. You felt him tense slightly. He began to draw small circles on your skin with that hand that rested on your back, hugging you close to him. “I…It can stay that. If you want it to. I won’t push you.”, he answered. You knew there was more to that answer. Knew he wanted to have more of this, just as bad as you wanted to. But you were also Grogus Master. And he was still a Mandalorian. Things just weren’t that easy. No matter how blissful this seemed. As if reading your mind, his raspy voice sounded off again: “For today just…let me hold you. Forget about your worries for just a little while okay?” You felt his hand on your cheek. Ever so softly caressing you as he placed a strand of damp hair back behind your ear. You melted into him, closing your eyes shut. “Yes…I think I needed this.”, you answered. Nearly a whisper, holding on tightly to him.

Feeling his warmth. Listening to his beating heart. Feeling him breathing calmly underneath you. Such a wonderful man. Right here in your arms. You closed your eyes. Just soaking it all in. “I think I needed this too, cyar’ika.”, he whispered after many minutes, not sure if you had fallen asleep at that point. To his surprise. You answered. Your voice groggy and silent. “I still don’t know that word.”, you explained and it made him grin . “That’s quite alright.”, he whispered back. An hour later, having stayed with you like that, he moved. He enjoyed watching you sleep so soundly. But noon was nearing and he had to get Grogu. He also knew you’d probably have a stiff neck if you kept laying like that on the hard metal of the crate. So he had lifted you off with ease and carried you to his bulk. Tucked you in - and about 30 Minutes later he had placed the Little One next to you, where he’d also snuggled in and fallen asleep. Din watched the two of you. Knowing that he was looking at his life’s purpose, wanting nothing more but to join you. To hold you again. He decided differently though. Walking up to the kitchen, preparing food for when you’d wake up, taking care of your bloody clothes and making sure the ship was neat and tidy again.

You had learned that day that there wasn’t much to worry about in this galaxy, when a Mandalorian loved you. @animefan3223 @shinymoonstarfish @imokayunlessyoumentionendgame @that-girl-named-alex @frau-moon @leeeggggsssssss @beardie-mama @why-always-me-gosh-please @lizziel1410 @momolulukai @hymnofthevalkyrie @sunshinerainbowmurderkitten @sunipostsstuff @louist91syndrome @dream-alittlebiggerdarling