#oh din! my tin can man!

[beskarandblasters]

breeding kink with din? I know that man would be feral and on his knees my brain goes brr when I think about it

Carry My Warriors

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Summary: After getting married and settling into your new home on Nevarro, Din discovers he has a new kink.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: reader is able/bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), established relationship, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, breeding kink, creampie, some nipple play, slight lactation kink if you squint, use of Mando’a words (cyar’ika = sweetheart, mesh’la = beautiful, riduur = spouse), no use of y/n

You’re just settling into your new home with Din on Nevarro. The past few days have been a blur. The Mandalorians reclaimed Mandalore and you were absolutely sure that’s where Din wanted to settle down with you and Grogu. But shortly after your wedding ceremony Din told you that the three of you were leaving for Nevarro. 

“But… why? You just reclaimed Mandalore… Isn’t this where you wanted to live? you asked, as he prepared the Razor Crest for takeoff. 

“At one point yes but now that we’re a family… I think we should live elsewhere… Karga’s got a place for us there.”

“Really?” you asked, in disbelief that you’re going to have an actual place to call home with Din. 

“Yes, cyar’ika,” he said, turning around and grabbing your hands, “A place for us to be a real family.”

You nodded and felt the happy tears spring in your eyes. He squeezed your hands and went back to preparing the ship. You scooped Grogu into your arms and leaned back in your chair, watching Mandalore get smaller underneath you as you left. You left the treacherous atmosphere and entered space, before Din made the jump to lightspeed. You closed your eyes and tried to imagine your new life together on Nevarro. Your stoic tin man could be a real softie sometimes. 

That was several days ago. You’ve been spending your first few days back on Nevarro settling into your new home; a small house on the outskirts of town. Complete with a pond full of frogs in the front for Grogu. You’re in yours and Din’s bedroom (still a strange concept to you; a real bedroom for the two of you) decorating when you feel Din’s presence behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and your neck flush against his chest. 

See, Din has a small problem that he hasn’t told you about yet… Becoming your riduur and this new, domestic life on Nevarro unlocked something within him. And realized he wants nothing more than you on your back, legs spread open for him with his cock buried in your cunt, pumping you full of his cum. 

You’ll be doing dishes in the kitchen, hips swaying as you hum yourself. And Din will watch you and think about how he could grab your hips, bend you over the sink and take you right there. Or you’ll be on the couch, in your pajamas, reading something on your holo-pad. He’ll notice the way your soft thighs are pressed against each other in your pajama shorts. 

But the worst is when you hop in the refresher together and he’ll see the way the water beads up on your tits and the way you lather them up with soap. His mind goes elsewhere and he thinks about them full of milk and how sore you’ll be and how you’ll need help relieving the tension and oh Maker, he’s got it bad. 

These are the kinds of things he thinks about while he strokes his cock when he’s alone in the refresher or next to you in bed after you’ve fallen asleep. He’s hesitant to tell you about his new fantasy because he’s not sure how you’ll react. You’ve never talked in depth about the possibility of having kids together. But now that you have a stable place to live it’s all he can think about; living a quiet life with you and watching you grow round with his child. It’s all he wants. And you find out about it by accident. 

You’re on your back, thighs spread apart and legs hooked over Din’s shoulders. His helmet is off and you’re looking deep into each other’s eyes. He tears them away for a second to gaze down at your tits which are bouncing deliciously with each of his thrusts and imagines them full of milk. And he’s gone, bursting his load into you in complete bliss. 

“Kriff, Din,” you gasp. 

He’s pulled out of his daze. “Hmm, what is it, cyar’ika?”

“You came inside me! I don’t have an implant, remember?”

“Oh… sorry,” he says, sheepishly. 

“It’s alright. I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you sigh. 

He kisses you and whispers another apology against your lips. You can’t stay mad at him for too long. 

After your little afternoon delight, you decide to get dinner started. Grogu’s down for a nap. You’re standing at the kitchen counter cutting vegetables, feeling Din’s release slowly seep out of you. And to be honest… you don’t hate the feeling. 

Din went into town to grab a few more things for dinner. He spent the rest of the afternoon replaying that moment in his head; the moment he came inside you for the first time. And now he doesn’t think he could go without that feeling. He arrives home, sees you at the kitchen counter and his eyes immediately gravitate towards your waist. He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. You stop cutting vegetables and lean into his touch. 

“I have to tell you something,” he says softly. 

“What is it?” you ask, turning to face him and gazing up into his visor. 

“...I want a baby with you, cyar’ika.”

Your mouth falls open. This is so sudden. And you’ve never talked about kids of your own before. 

“Oh, Din. I don’t… I don’t know,” you say, truly confused. 

“Please, cyar’ika,” Din begs, falling to his knees. He rests the bottom of his helmet against your thigh, visor peering up at you with what you can imagine are the most pleading eyes under the helmet. One of his hands caresses your thigh and you sigh. 

“You’ll look so pretty carrying my warriors.”

“Is this really what you want?”

“More than anything.”

“Okay,” you nod. 

He couldn’t drag you to the bedroom fast enough. He pulls you from the kitchen and into your bedroom. He pushes you down on the bed gently and starts pulling off your pants. 

“What about dinner?” you ask. 

“We can eat later,” he says hastily, removing his armor piece by piece.

You giggle and sit up to take off your shirt. You hear the hiss of the modulator and look over at him, never getting enough of the sight of his face. He looks over at you with the hungriest expression on his face while he slips off his flight suit. You lay down on your back and Din hovers over you, bringing his hand to the inside of your thigh, trailing it up to your cunt. You spread your legs for him and let him stroke your entrance gently. 

“I’m gonna take good care of you, cyar’ika,” he purrs.

You moan in response as brings his head to your cunt, licking a slow stripe up it. Your hands find his hair and tug on it a little, begging for more. He swirls his tongue around your clit in a rhythmic motion. He hums into you, sending vibrations through your core. He hooks his arms around your thighs and brings you closer against his face. You moan at the new and more intense sensation. You feel your core tightening in anticipation of a big release. With one last lap of his tongue you’re coming against his face, soaking the lower half of it completely. Pleasure washes over you in erratic waves as you ride out your high. Din laps up every last drop of your fluids before commenting on how good you taste. 

“You taste so good, mesh’la,” he murmurs before bringing his face by yours. He kisses you as he looks gathers your wetness in his hand, spreading it on his cock. He gives it a few strokes before aligning himself with your entrance. He enters you slowly and sighs at the sensation of your warm, wet cunt enveloping his cock. You hold your breath as he stretches your walls. He buries himself at the hilt, the head of his cock rubbing against your cervix. You exhale and relax as you expand to his size, feeling completely full. He places your legs on his shoulders and leans forward, folding you in half into a mating press. You moan at the deeper angle of his cock and feel tears spring in your eyes. 

“It’s so big, Din,” you whine.

“Yeah, you like that, mesh’la? Want me to fuck a baby into you just like this?” 

You moan in response, too cock drunk to form complete sentences. He chuckles and picks up the pace, driving his length into you with more force. He notices your tits bounce with each slam of his hips and reaches to suck on one of them, releasing your nipple with a loud pop. He moves to your other nipple and does the same thing; lick and suck at it until it becomes a stiff peak in his mouth. He pulls his head back and he gazes down at you with loving eyes, bringing one hand to the side your face and caressing your cheek. You feel yourself arrive at the brink of orgasm, core tightening as the pleasure stirs in your stomach. You come undone around him, moaning loudly as your orgasm overtakes you. Your cunt clenches him like a vice bringing him to the edge, too. He fucks you through your release which prolongs it further but he feels his balls tighten and he knows he’s about to cum. 

“Cum in me, Din. Fill me up,” you pant.

Those words pull his orgasm from him in an instant, coating your insides with his cum. The tip of his cock is tucked into your cervix, pulsating against it. He comes with a loud groan and closes his eyes in bliss before pumping into you with a few more strokes until he goes soft. He stays inside you, keeping you plugged with his cum. He kisses you and whispers, “Thank you, cyar’ika. I’ll take such good care of you when you’re carrying my warrior.”

You kiss him back and whisper, “I know you will, Din.” 

You stay there like that for a while with him still inside you until you hear Grogu waking up from his nap and fussing in his room. He pulls out of you reluctantly and starts to get dressed. You go to get dressed, too, wanting to resume dinner but he stops you. 

“Rest, riduur. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Okay,” you sigh. 

Sure he wants you to rest… but you’re also certain that he wants you to lay down to ensure all of his cum stays inside you. You get the feeling that you’re not going to be leaving this bed for a long time, not until he’s absolutely sure his seed has taken and you’re carrying his baby. You’re not complaining though. 

End note: This request has been sitting in my inbox for two months now, I am the worst 🫣

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[jake-g-lockley]

Heyyy would you please do prompt 2 and (or) 9 with din? <3

Twisted Vows (Din Djarin x reader) 

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Wanna be Tagged?

Prompt: head or shoulder massages, lover’s sick habit ie being too stubborn to let someone else help

A/N: Thanks for the ask lovely!!! DIN SICK FIC!! Please, this tin can is so stubborn, I bet he’s a real hard headed dummy when he is sick. But, ofc we love our Din &lt;3

Warnings: Allusions to sex, Din taking off the helmet, the creed being a real bitch to real life things like sickness, vomiting. 

Word count: 1.6 k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Your eyes sparkled as you looked at the fruits before you, smiling at the shopkeeper. Your Din loved fruits but he never asked for them, he never asked for anything. Before he met you, he would often go days without eating, hopping around from planet to planet in a wild nomadic frenzy. Things only got worse when Grogu made his appearance, Din ate sparingly and gave most of his food to his baby. You loved cooking food, and you loved it when you had someone to feed. 

When you appeared, you gave Din the chance to love food again, to slowly grow into the shell he hunched in after becoming a Mandalorian. He always had shown you his grumpy exterior but you clearly knew about his soft interior. You’d only see his soft side whenever he would take care of his son and more recently, when he would take care of you.

Once you were happy with your groceries you made your slow walk back to your hut, picking some flowers along the way for your flower vase. You opened the ramp to the Crest and were about to slip your shoes off and placed them beside Din’s chunky boots when a peculiar sight caught your eyes.

Your partner’s helmet somehow had grown a pair of green arms and was waddling towards your direction, a spoon in one green claw. You smiled down at your little green monster, wondering where Din might be if his helmet was walking around the house. 

Your answer came almost immediately when you heard loud footsteps followed by a gruff “COVER YOUR EYES!”

You squeezed your eyes shut and heard Grogu giggling as he ran away from his dad. 

“Hey Din! Catch!” you unfurled your scarf and threw it blindly. 

“You can open your eyes now.” you opened one eye to see the big burly man in lounge clothes with your scarf around his face. 

You set your groceries aside and scooped up the thieving babbling toddler, pulling Din’s helmet off to reveal Grogu’s cute face, a loud sigh coming from the man before you . 

“Baby, what did we say about taking your Papa’s helmet?” you gently chastise, kissing his forehead gently as Din stomped towards you, stretching his arms out for his helmet. As Din got closer, you realised something was wrong. He was breathing weirdly, not his usual controlled breathing and his back was hunched slightly. He turned and gagged into his elbow, followed by a weak cough.

“Oh Din, are you okay?” you worriedly questioned, stretching your free arm out to feel his exposed neck but Din stepped back.

You narrowed your eyes at him and Din’s eyes widened under the scarf. 

You whispered “do the thing” into Grogu’s ear and he immediately raised his hand, causing Din to lurch forward and collide with you. 

“Not fair.” Din mumbled in defeat as you touched his neck.

“Din, you’re running a fever, that's it, back to bed or I’m hiding your helmet.” you say sternly.

“Fine, can I have my helmet back first?” he mumbled under the scarf and you nodded, shutting your eyes again as he removed the scarf from his face, dropping it onto his son’s face.

You opened your eyes as soon as you heard the hiss of his helmet and Grogu squealing under the scarf. You tutted angrily at the both of them as Din hung his head.

“Stop having beef with your own child, tin can.” you scolded the overgrown child in front of you, pulling the scarf off Grogu’s head. “Go to your room, I’ll come back with some stuff for you.”

You stared into his visor as you kissed the top of Grogu’s head again. The Mandalorian sauntered off, not before mumbling something under his breath. You smiled as you caught the last bit of his sentence.

“I’m the one who is sick but he gets all the kisses.”

You shook your head and bent down to place Grogu in his bassinet before taking your groceries to the tiny kitchen. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Din tried to lay back and forget how his body was hurting all over. He groaned as he clutched his tummy, quickly slipping his helmet on before running out of his room. You watch worriedly as Din dashes past you and makes a beeline to the refresher.

You hear him emptying the contents of his stomach and your heart ached at the small whimper that accompanied the retching when there was nothing left for him to throw up. 

“Din, sweetheart?” you called as you stood outside the refresher. “You have your helmet on?” 

A small grunt of confirmation makes you throw the door open and you drop to your knees beside the Mandalorian who was now curled against the metal wall. Behind all of his pain, Din’s heart swelled with your respect towards his creed. He wanted to tell you what plagued his head and heart but all he could do was gag.

“Oh Din, maybe I should just leave, I-i don’t know what to do, I can’t help you if you don’t have your helmet off.” you say, your eyes brimming with tears. 

“I don’t know what to do either.” he whispered.

You laid down on the cold floor and curled up, facing Din, taking his hand in yours, an idea sparking in your mind. 

“Shall I suggest something really stupid then?” you say as Din’s mind calmed slightly at your touch. 

He grunted and you took a deep breath. 

“Marry me.” you whisper and through the fog of pure sickness, Din Djarin stares at you as if you were the craziest woman in the galaxy. 

“What?”

“You heard me. Marry me, then I can take care of you.” you say, placing a hand on his helmet, where his cheek would be. 

“You’re crazy.”

“And you’re sick.”

“Fuck.” Din had so much to argue about marrying him. 

He definitely was not a match for you, no matter how much his heart yearned for you, no matter how badly he wanted all of you to be his. 

“Din, I swear on my name and the names of the Ancestors, that I should walk the way of our love and the words that my heart sings shall be forever forged between us.” you say clearly, twisting the words of the creed that Din had used before dipping himself in the Living Waters. “You better agree before you throw up in that helmet, Djarin.”

Din slowly sits up and takes your hands, placing it under his helmet and letting you push it off to reveal his face. You stared in shock, not realising that he would be this pretty, despite being sick as a dog.

“Heya, husband.” you whisper as you run a finger down his nose, watching as his eyes flutter close. 

Din swallows and blinks, focusing on your face. Your fingers trace his lips, the ones you’ve had on you before in frantic times when you and Din’s desperations tipped over and the both of you lost control. 

“Your husband is gonna throw up all over you if you don’t move.” he croaked out and you shifted as Din bent over the bowl and retched. 

You rubbed the small of his back and whispered softly to him as he coaxed his stomach to relax. It took you a while to get the dizzy Din to get up from the refresher floor and lead him to his room. You pushed him down and handed him a pill that would calm his tummy, before slowly feeding him fruit that you had cut up for him.

Din could not express anything he was feeling, and he just accepted your unrequited love that you shoved at him. His eyes were downcasted after a while and you realised that he might not be used to someone seeing his face this long.

“Just yell for me if you need anything.” you said before standing to get up, but Din yanked you down despite being the weakest you’ve ever seen him.

“C-could you stay a while?” he whispered, his thumb gently tracing your wrist. 

You smiled and pushed his curls away from his forehead, making his eyes flutter close. 

“Of course.” you assured with a smile.

Din twitched awkwardly and you eyed him, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Is something hurting?” 

“Nah.” he croaked out after a long pause.

“You can’t lie to me, I’m your-”

“Wife, yea got it.” he huffed  and scowled, making you giggle. “My head and neck are a little uncomfortable.”

You nod knowingly. 

“Can you turn over?” you ask and Din hesitated before shaking his head.

You thought his stomach was still making him uncomfortable but in reality, Din just wanted to look at your face. 

You sat on the bed and crossed your legs, laying his head onto your legs. He looked up at you with big eyes, and you skimmed your knuckles across his warm skin. 

You begin with his temples slowly kneading them with your fingers until a soft sigh escapes his lips. 

“A little h-higher?” 

“Of course, love.” 

Din loved it when you called him that. He was your love, your only love, maybe second to Grogu, but he was yours. That reminded him…

“When I get better, I’ll tell you the proper vows.” he whispered, and you blink down at him before realising what he was talking about.

“Oh-”

“Yea, we’re definitely breaking the creed here, but I don’t care. I-i’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time…” he said before taking a deep breath.

“Shh, I know.” you whispered, placing a finger on his lips. 

Din couldn’t help but smile. Despite knowing that you knew, he wanted to hear himself say it.

“I love you, my riduur.” he says as his eyes became heavier by the way you were gently pushing all of his pain away.

“I love you too, Din Djarin.” you whispered as he drifted off to sleep, placing a lingering kiss onto his forehead and smiling down at him. 

Reblogs are appreciated~~~~

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[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter VII : Hysminai

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: Hello tin can man nation, happy Mando Monday and one million billion trillion apologies that it’s taken me a whole goddamn month to update. This has literally never happened to me with any of my stories before, and quite frankly, it feels terrible! All I can say is that like I said in my last note, after this the story changes drastically, and I was having a difficult time crossing the bridge between how we were and how we will be (oh I sounded so philosophical, are you impressed?) I needed to figure out how it was they’d be feeling in the in-between sort of place they’re at in this chapter. Apparently, that took me a whole month to do, sometimes I think I need to get a grip or something idk. 

Anyways, more canon divergence more timeline divergence. so yes, that’s all. Here it is — it’s a little idk — idk how I feel about the chapter after all that, but it is what it is, so tell me what you think!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.0K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER VII : HYSMINAI

Where does unbelief begin?

Anne Carson, Glass, Irony and God

“My fucking back hurts,” he groans, flopping down on top of you. Dirty and sweaty and a little stinky from his unsuccessful hunt today, you push your hands up beneath his shirt, pulling it out from where it’s tucked in his pants to get at his skin, wrapping your legs around the tapered expanse of his strong waist.

A soft whine, as if he thinks he should argue or tell you no but can’t bring himself to. “I’m sweaty,” and then like a confession, or something frightening and shameful, “And tired, and I’m getting old,” he whispers, heavy helmet digging into the crook of your shoulder, crushing your collar bone.

“My poor baby,” you croon at him, one palm stroking the slope of his spine, the other digging beneath the layers of fabric around his neck to get at his tender nape. “You just need a bath, some rest, something to eat. It’ll all be okay after that.” And he groans, great beast that he is, rumbling through the modulator and rolling the curve of the helmet over your shoulder. You press the tips of your fingers into the thick slats of muscles along his spine, feel him jerk at a particularly sore spot, and then melt once you begin to soothe the hurt away gently. His bones seem to sag into you, the entire tremendous weight of him pressing you into the blankets until you feel like you can barely breathe. He’s a huge mass of sweltering, sweaty man, worked into exhaustion. 

To say that it had been difficult convincing him you’d be fine left on the Crest so that he could go out and hunt the bounty you’d come to Yavin 4 to retrieve, would be putting it lightly. First, he’d said you’d be coming with him, and you’d watched, patient and silent, as he’d worked himself into a knot, pacing back and forth, muttering to himself as he talked himself in and out of bringing you along several times over before he’d landed on the decision that no, you could absolutely not come out on a hunt with him – too dangerous. And so, okay, sure, whatever you say, Din. Now come sit and have some soup, and he’d grumbled and huffed and puffed the entire time while you’d stroked all the bare skin you could get at, trussed up in the armor as he was, soothing him back into calm. But then he’d come up with the brilliant plan that you’d simply return to Nevarro, jumping up to pace once again, and he’d tell Karga that he’d be unable to acquire the remaining bounties, return the pucks, and wash his hands of the Guild entirely. That idea had lasted a total of thirty seconds before you’d helpfully pointed out that the two of you still needed credits to live, fuel for the ship, food and supplies. Somehow, it seemed the practical necessity of money had slipped his mind in the midst of his stress. However, eventually, in the gentlest and most placating voice you could muster, you’d bade him to come sit with you, and crouching at your feet while you perched on your stool, fingers pressed to the tee of his vizor you’d told him that you’d learned your lesson, you weren’t going to be caught unawares again, and that he couldn’t abandon his work and his Guild because of what happened. Something about the words had felt, not necessarily like a lie, but like a falsity. There was something frightened and aware within you now. And you didn’t want to examine it closely enough to categorize it for what it truly was yet, but you knew it was there, that it’d been woken and stirred to restlessness with the appearance of the Thalassians and all they’d had to tell you about the whispers of you circulating the Outer Rim. 

And worst of all, you hadn’t told him anything of what they’d said. You hadn’t told him of the claim that there were rumors of the two of you, knowledge of what you are being passed between scheming mouths with cruel intentions. You didn’t want to worry him, you didn’t want to distract him from his work. The thought of him going out there to face unknown dangers while he left his mind here on the ship with you, worrying and fretting and not watching out for himself the way he needed to, with full attention – well, it just wasn’t a possibility. And anyways, you told yourself, liar, liar, liar, you could handle anything else that came your way. You could handle your own worry and your own fear and your own raging thoughts, what you could not handle, and this you knew with absolute certainty, was his worry and his fear. You needed him to be calm, focused, well and happy. Nothing else really mattered besides that, especially not you. 

He pulls you forward, pulling your wrists to wrap around his neck, needy, needy Mandalorian, “I’m sorry. I’m just–” a gruff sound of frustration, “Just worried.” Sometimes you think he’s the one with the ability to read minds, not you. “I’m taking you somewhere,” he says into the crook, “Once we’re done with this one.”

We. Always a we now. There is such togetherness here and now, between the two of you,

“Where?” And it’s a funny thing, always existing in the dark with him now, and you hadn’t thought about it or looked at it closely enough up until someone else, someone bad, had stepped into this comforting darkness the two of you had settled into with each other, made you realize that that's what you’ve been doing, living in the dark again. But now it’s everywhere, glaring and demanding your attention, and you can’t understand how it is that you ended up here again, a different sort of dark, surely, but still the same thing constructed in an altered form, nonetheless. Or perhaps, how or why it is that you’ve pulled him, someone that burns like a flame on their own, into your shadow. And you’ve watched him, and you know him now, so surely it must be that a man such as he could never be pulled or taken or turned into anything he didn't choose for himself because watching him is like watching a man be a god, and for a girl who’d been told all her life she was a god herself while she sat in the place of slave, it is exciting and erotic and so many things. But it is also confusing. 

And there are locked rooms inside of you: lust, grief, apathy. You would like to take a hammer to them all, but it seems that, perhaps, Din is the one taking that hammer to those doors and obliterating them for you. That help you’d always been so afraid of, he’s there to give it to you, and so the easy answer, the right answer, would seem to be for you to take that help… no? To accept what he gives you in whatever way he thinks is best because he only wants what is good for you, to help, to soften, to make things easier for you. To remove that interminable struggle you’ve found yourself in for so long, for your whole life. 

Sometimes it feels like I haven’t been happy my whole life. But I know I feel it with you.

“It’s a surprise.” Another reminder of happiness. 

It only takes him one more outing on Yavin 4, before he returns with the bounty slung over his broad shoulder. Grunts and curses as he wrestles with the heavy weight of it, stuffing it into the carbon freezer. His hair is getting too long, the rich curls peeking out beneath the lip of his helmet in the back, and the sight of them does something strange to you. A small thing like a vulnerability, a reminder that he’s only a man, only human beneath all of that beskar. That thing of fear that’s been roiling inside of you thumps and thumps and thumps, and you try and swallow it and push it down, kill it if you must, but it will not be silenced or settled. As he passes you on his way to the ladder you stop him with a small hand on his chest plate, small and seemingly insignificant in comparison to the great breadth of him – you’ve always liked that, the way that if no one knew you for what you really are, in comparison to his size and strength they’d never take you for the more dangerous one. There’s something comforting in that. You reach up to tuck the soft curls back beneath his helmet, you wish you could reach up to press a kiss to his mouth also. “Hair’s getting long,” you tell him instead. But again, he’d been distracted, worried, forgetting the small things he needed, forgetting to take care of himself. You can’t help the feeling of guilt this brings on, but then he’s gripping you around the waist and pulling you up towards himself, pressing the round of his helmet against your cheek, a hard metallic nuzzle, basically carrying you up the ladder to the cockpit with him, and you’re forced to abandon your guilt and worries for the moment. 

After a maintenance stop in Mos Eisley on the planet of Tatooine, he takes you to the terrestrial ice planet of Maldo Kreis where he tells you he’d once crash landed and come upon, believe it or not, hot springs. Nestled deep into a system of caves that run below the surface of the planet, there live a collection of hot baths. He said that the caves weren’t entirely without their threats, but that if one was careful, the baths he’d found were enough of a desolate little pocket of space that he could relax without fear of discovery. 

You’d told him that you loved water, and so he’d brought you to water he could share with you.

You watch the broad line of his shoulders as he lumbers through the icy snow, he’d wrapped you in all your layers and one of his thick capes over your own cloak so that he was sure you were as warm as possible during the short trek from the toasty interior of the Razor Crest to the cave he was familiar with. He pulls you along behind him, blaster in one hand, your fingers gripped tightly in the other, his tactical light swinging in a slow arc from side to side as the two of you make your careful progression through the dark, near silent caves. Nothing but your short, excited panting, the hollow crack of the all encompassing ice around the two of you, and his low murmurs to watch your step here and careful, cyare and step where I step; ever careful and ever cautious with you. And the cave, when he steps into the high domed cavern, the great echo of the drip, drip, dripping of the ice above melting in the rising steam, and the sight of the baths, like nothing you could have ever imagined. Nothing like the ones on Carosi XII you used to visit in your youth in the moments you found to sneak away. The bath is large, about six by ten meters in diameter and it glows. Suffused by some sort of bioluminescent light at the heart of its basin, some sort of unearthly blue light shining up from its core to alight the cavern and refract against the ice glittered walls. You stand there shocked for a moment, eyes slowly roving the large space, small and shivering and maybe even a little terrified, beside a man that on the surface would seem to the unknowing eye to be just as hard and just as frigid. “Do you like it, cyar’ika? Did I do well?” He asks you in a soft voice that holds something like boyish shyness, vulnerable uncertainty. You squeeze his arm tight, hugging it to your chest and squishing your cheek against the ice cold pauldron, burning the fine skin there. 

“Oh, Din,” you look up at him with that thing you can’t say out loud, but that you’re so entirely full of for him, “It’s so beautiful – let’s get in please. Is it safe? Please, let’s get in.” He makes an indulgent noise in his throat, extracting his arm from your tight hold to wrap it around your shoulders and urge you forward gently. 

“You get in. This is for you, little one.” And you want to argue, to say that it’s not the same without him, that it’s not worth it without him, but the water looks so lovely and warm and an azure so pure and crystalline it looks as though you’d be stepping into the heart of a diamond. He pulls his own cloak from around his shoulders and lays it on the snowy floor of the cave for you to stand on as he removes your clothes in quick, efficient movements, somehow keeping you wrapped in the layers of your own cloak and his extra cape he’d tucked you into so that you’re never entirely bared to the frigid air of the cave until he’s gently wrapping one large, gloved hand around your forearm, the other clasped at your waist to help you step into the warm bath. And that first moment of contact, submerging the tips of your toes in to your calves, knees, thighs, your hips and belly and finally your breasts, that first moment almost hurts, the shocking change from sharp cold to soothing heat burns, your skin going too tight stretched over your bones and then loose and relaxed, all strength seeming to seep from your muscles so that you’re sagging into the pool weakly with an airy moan. You float slowly out into the middle and then suddenly, remembering the most important part of the scene, you turn back to look at him, but he's still at the edge of the pool, slowly going to a crouch on his knees to watch you. He isn’t going to come in, and you try and swallow your disappointment, letting yourself sink down to the bottom, squeezing your eyes shut tightly so that all that remains is the blue glow of the pool’s luminescence. Your bare bottom settles at the base, the rocks hot against your skin, and wait there a moment, feeling as though your at the heart of a womb, nothing but a thought at the start of your life, and then pushing yourself back up, breaking the surface with a gasp, pushing the sluicing water out of your eyes, your lashes seeming to crackle and freeze at the contact with the frigid air once again. When you turn back to look at him with a wide smile, he’s slowly shaking his head at you, pissed off sound rumbling through the modulator at you staying below the surface for so long. 

You let yourself sink down until only your eyes remain above water. Stretching your toes to skim the bottom of the warm rocks at the base of the pool, and you watch him watch you, that intensity of his, so powerful it spears his visor, suffuses your entire body, moving through your limbs like electricity and pooling at the tips of your fingers and toes. You know he can see the distorted shimmer of your naked body beneath the surface of the water, the tips of your breasts, the line of your belly down to the apex of your thighs, your hair floats away from you in ghostlike fingers, as if they were reaching towards him. You suck in a tiny bit of the slightly brackish water, hold it on your tongue, and when you let your mouth break the surface you spit it towards him in a crystalline arc. “The water’s so lovely. Come hold me,” you flirt at him. He’s crouched at the edge of the pool like some metallic sentinel, entirely still, frozen in time and space. You’ll remember him like this always, you think, silent and riveted only on you. That silence of his that sometimes says so much, echoes in your mind like a shout. The helmet cocks slowly to one side, entirely predatory, and if you hadn’t come to know him as well as you have, you’d worry for a moment that he’d seem entirely unaffected, but you can make out the tiight grip of his fingers around the cap of his bent knee. The restraint in the lines of his limbs he holds himself with, and the tips of your breasts go tight and aching at the display of want, subtle and silent as it is. The stillness and the silence, he uses it as a weapon when he likes, and sometimes they hold him in reserve, but other times, they tell you so much. “Please, come join me. I won’t look. I’ll be good,” you whisper, mouth just above the surface of the water, and slowly start to tread closer to him. “I promise.”

The hand over his knee tightens, and he makes a pained, frustrated sound, spit through the modulator. He looks around the cave again, visor slowly scanning the dark crevices and passageways, and you know he’s scanning once more for heat signatures. “Turn around,” he says quietly, vizor finally coming back to you. You obey silently, treading water to the far end of the pool, as far from him as you can go, giving him space and time and privacy to divest himself of the protections of his Creed. Protections he’s ridding himself of for you. You reach the stone ledge on the opposite side of the hot spring and rest there, arms crossed over the edge and chin propped on your folded wrists, and you close your eyes and listen to the sound of him giving himself to you, the disengaging of the magnetics that hold his armor together, the hollow drop of a pauldron, another, chest plate, vambraces, the thigh and shin guards. Then the heavier thud of his helmet, and the sound of his naked sigh, your heart drops into your stomach. You bring your face down into the cove of your folded arms, hiding away, heart racing as fast as a small, hunted creature. Your water warmed arms and neck are steaming in the frozen chill of the surrounding cave, but your lower half is enveloped in all of the sensual heat of the pool. The warring sensations shiver through you, up and down the length of your spine like electricity, the back of your neck prickling and breaking out into gooseflesh. Your entire frame trembles in anticipation, everything inside going tight and hot as a flash fire, and then loose and shaky, wet and molten. You hear the rustle of clothing, his softly pained grunt and sigh from what must be him bending to shuck his boots and pants, his back hurts, and then the splash of disturbed water and a different sort of groan, one of pleasure as he submerges his sore body in all the heat of the pool. You can’t help the almost silent answering whimper that claws its way up your throat, he calls to you so strongly always, that string from rib bone to spine that you’re terrified of being without one day. Terrified of the sort of lost you’ll become if it were to ever be severed. His movements go still suddenly, all sound seeming to cut off from one moment to the next, a pressurized sort of silence so immediately jarring that for a single second of panic you’re tempted to turn around to make sure he’s still there, but then: the whisper soft pressure of a single finger dragging straight down the line of your spine. His hand unfurling to spread entirely at the small of your back, pressing you hard against the stone wall of the pool. The facade is jagged, but warmed by the volcanic heat source deep within the core of the planet, and the incongruous sensations have you breathing out a whimpered moan. “Hi,” he presses a kiss to the ball of your shoulder, the top of his dark head flashes in your peripheral vision and you snap your eyes shut quickly, and then the press of his long, hot body all along your back. His chest, his groin and the already hard cock there, the rounds of his knees at the backs of yours. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you away with him, lets your bodies float out into the middle of the pool. The heat is more concentrated here, as if the pool possessed its very own beating heart, warming the rest of its body, and the two of you float there, quiet, with him wrapped around you like this, the soft press of his plush mouth every once in a while, and the deep hums and rumbly sounds of his relaxed contentment. You lay your head back on his shoulder and sit in the quiet risk of this with him, but everything is so well and so peaceful that you let your mind close away that worry and that fear and that door that’d been opened inside your mind, just for now.  The galaxy is exceptionally still, here in this place with him. 

“You’re happy,” he reads your mind all the time now and amongst all the risk that surrounds the two of you, nothing bests that. “I did good. You’re happy.”

“You’re perfect,” you say in return, turning your face into his throat, hiding yourself away in his skin.

“Tell me something else that makes you happy,” he says, and a furious flush of heat floods your face, you, you want to say, you make me happier than anything, a swift frantic throbbing starting up at your throat, wrists, the backs of your knees. 

But you hold your tongue, think of another thing you’d once thought you couldn’t live without. “My blade, I think,” you say slowly. “I told you once that I, perhaps, should not have made another lightsaber.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know if I deserve it anymore. But… she’s beautiful and unique and comforting. And I wanted one. I wanted to be the bearer of a lightsaber, and so I forewent what I thought I should do, and did only what I wanted to at the time.”

“And now? Do you still think you don’t deserve it?” His voice is gentle and tentative, and you’re sure he knows these questions will only aggravate old wounds. But there is also a part of you that wants him to know anyway. Amongst all the things within you that you’d like to keep from him forever, there are others which you’d like him to understand about you, as well. Things no one else has ever or will ever know. 

“Yes, maybe more than ever.”

An admonishing click of his tongue. You know there are certain things you believe about yourself that he doesn’t agree with, you can sense it within him, and it’s the greatest gift he constantly gives you, the benefit of his doubt. “What else do you want?”

You lift your head from its hiding place in his neck, chew on the thought, peek down at his bare arms wrapped around your middle. Something about seeing them so out in the open, water strewn, the soft dark hair covering the golden brown skin and sinewy muscle feels like breaking a rule. You hold your palm hovering just beneath the surface of the water, let the tips of your fingers break the glass-like edge, the glowing light that burns beneath the rockbase of the pool suffuses between them,“Absolution, perhaps.” You.

“From what?”

“Everything.”

“From who?” You have no answer for that – a moment of shocked speechlessness. The entire galaxy. Him, above all, him. “Because you aren’t going to get it from me,” voice grave and sad and serious, gentle, as if he’s telling a very young child a very big thing. “I have nothing to absolve you of, and so I cannot give it to you.” A lie he does not know is a lie. 

I know, you breathe in the smallest voice you can. As if the quiet will prevent the words from going out into the world. Acknowledgement breathes life into a thing, and you do not, cannot, acknowledge this truth. That you have started to fear that even if he knew the truth of it all, that it would still not satiate your guilt, silence it. That, most terrifying of terrifying truths, you fear you are the only one who can give that to yourself. You wish, very badly indeed, that you had the courage to tell him the whole of it, every bad or terrible thing, the worst thing, that you could be yourself entirely. You want to ask him how he finds the courage to be so brave and so mighty all the time? You would like to say: This is me at my best. I am asking you to endure it. I know it is selfish, but it’s what I’d like anyway.

The sight of the heavy end of the Thalassian’s stick hurtling towards you flashes in your mind, the sound of your bone crunching beneath the weight. Years and years of beatings and darkness and horror. You shut your eyes to it, focus on the sound of his breaths, the drip of water, the luminescence of the pool’s hot stones glowing through the thin membrane of your eyelids, the electric blue seeping into your corneas. 

“What are you afraid of?” You ask instead. You suspect that the answer to your own courage does not necessarily lie with him, and so you alter the framing, cast it in a more revealing light. “What sorts of things worry you?” 

He thinks on it for a moment, lets his arms slip from around you to tread water, and then stillness, the sound of him cupping little pools in his palms and letting them trickle back into the bath. “I’m getting older. I worry about the day I realize I’m weaker, slower. What that’ll do to me, what it’ll feel like – to realize the tool… weapon, I’ve relied on for so long is failing me, my own body.”

“You’re not that old,” you laugh lightly, “Only the disposition of an old man.” He bumps his spine into yours, turned to face away from you now.

“Brat.” You love this game of questions. Your favorite of all the games you play together. 

“If you can look into my mind,” he says slowly, “Could you also erase my memories?” Your stomach churns with the change in direction.

“Perhaps. I… I’m not sure – I’ve never tried to do that.” You hum in nervous consideration, “I could rework them, maybe, change them. But it would be difficult to pick and choose without running the risk of wiping a mind completely, I would think.”

“Yeah… I guess that makes sense.” He’s quiet for a moment, and you listen to the rustle of the water, the lapping of his movement slicking up against your naked back. “What am I thinking about right now?” He asks suddenly, and a flush of angry heat sizzles across your face. 

“Don’t ask me those things. It’s not a game, Din.” A hypocrite in your own mind.

Another silent pause, and you can hear a smile in his voice that forces your annoyance away. “Play with me anyways,” and he bumps his back into yours again, then turns to pull you to his chest once more, drags you slowly bobbing through the water to the far end of the pool to rest on the ledge there. 

The two of you sit there back to back, and you wrap your arms around your bent knees, resting your chin against the dome of your joint and close your eyes. All of these games… But you let the Force wrap around the both of you slowly, a bubble made entirely of yourself, let it slink around him, snake up his ankle to his knee. Another up the curve of his back and over the hill of his shoulder, up the column of his neck and over his face, your power licking and tasting as it goes, feeding off of him. You listen to him gasp and can’t help but smile a little. You feel him everywhere, always, you wish – hope, he feels you like this always too. And then in, gentle as possible, like piercing the thin, delicate membrane of a piece of fruit skin, a transparent membrane, and it’s like you’re running your fingers over the contours of his present thought, held just there, tasting it off the tip of his tongue: it’s you. He’s thinking of you, and the sight of yourself within the space of his mind is jarring like a snapping bone, ragged edges of white ivory, blood red marrow. You want to jerk away immediately at the sight of yourself, but you pause, take in the sight of yourself asleep earlier on the Crest. He’d woken before you, and you’re naked and vulnerable, cheek smushed against your folded hands, hair a bedraggled mess. He drags the pad of his thumb over the swell of your breast, feels the smoothness of your skin, leans forward and crowns a fading bruise along the slope of your shoulder with a kiss by the same mouth that had placed it there earlier. You can almost taste the scent of yourself on his tongue, and you smell like him, like you belong to him. The thought that you do, that you’re his follows, charges in on the tail end of your mingled scent. Ownership so pure, so intrinsic over another being should seem wrong, no? But it’s merely fact here, as he looks upon you. And he lo– 

You pull yourself back, blinking away furious, overwhelmed, distraught tears. Tears of exaltation and such grief. This is how he sees me, you think. I am beautiful and good in his eyes. Perhaps, the greatest lie you’ve ever made him believe. 

The Thalassian crone’s voice cracks in your mind, worth nothing more than an invisible and illusory thing, The Force. He doesn’t see it yet, he still believes in the game, but fate is about to best the both of you, you’re certain of it. And you feel so fucking angry at the thought, at the reminder and memory. So frustrated that they’d found you, that they’d pierced the bubble of happiness the two of you had secluded yourselves in these past weeks together, that you were letting them disrupt it. That you couldn’t let go of the past. 

“What do you see, cyar’ika?” His voice is gentler than the water. 

“Me.” Your tears salt the pool. 

“That’s you,” he whispers, reaches back to grasp your hip. And you want to argue, to make him see the fallacy for what it is, but it’s such a lovely lie. You can’t bring yourself to ruin the dream. A sob breaks in your throat, spills out, and he turns in the water, hugs your back to himself. His face is right there, so close, out in the open. You can almost touch the dream. “Don’t cry, little one. I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry–” you gasp, press a hand over your mouth, swallow the horrible outpour back down.

“I’ve never resented my Creed more than I do right now.” He says it through clenched teeth, as if he knows he shouldn’t. “Not being able to look at your face, not being able to have you see me, to kiss you – I want to kiss you so badly.” Your heart drops down into your stomach. 

“Don’t. Don’t – you can’t. You don’t want that.”

He’s silent for a moment, stiff, and then slowly: “Why not?”

How to be honest without splitting yourself open? “You can’t give that to me, Din. I don’t– I don’t deserve it,” your voice ends on a shamed whisper. The idea of him trusting you with that last, most important thing, the sight of his face. It could never happen. Never.

“So many things you think you don’t deserve… It’s my choice, isn’t it?”

“It would be the wrong choice.”

“I’ve never done it, you know? No one has seen my face since I was a boy. The night you told me we ran the risk of you seeing me in my memory– sometimes I feel like I can’t even remember it myself. Like that isn’t even a possibility because the memory doesn’t exist. Like the face I occasionally glance at in the mirror isn’t actually me.” You could understand this so well, the phenomena of being wholly unrecognizable to yourself, and it was moments like these, when he said something that reminded you so entirely of yourself, that showed you how alike the two of you were in certain ways, that frightened you more than anything. That brought that keen sense of knowing into awareness. That made you awake to that thing you felt for him that you could not yet name or acknowledge. Acknowledging a thing brought it to life, after all. He presses another kiss over the bruise, intensifies it further with a pull of his mouth. “I never want anyone to know something about me that you don’t know. If I were ever to give it to anyone, it’d be to you.” As if he’s the one who possesses the power to read minds, not you, and you're pressing your hand over your eyes and turning in his embrace, blindly, madly shoving your face towards his and stumbling for his mouth. He grasps you around the waist, another hand to your jaw, squeezing so tight your bones feel set to burst, and with a snarl, he kisses you. Blindly, madly, like everything else this thing between the two of you has been, so full of risk. Your name in his mouth is a savage thing full of sharp teeth and want and violence, and you breathe a warbled moan into him as he pulls you further onto his lap so that you’re straddling him, aching cunt nestled against his hardness. “I never want anyone to know something about me that you don’t know,” he breathes again, licks the words onto the surface of your tongue, and you’re sure he’s trying to break you, to leave an imprint, a brand, a burn inside of you in the shape of him. Something that hurts worse than anything else ever has. It’s unfair, it is almost a cruelty, for Din– Din does not always know how a thing will end as you do. He’s absolved of such a curse, and so he must not suffer the certainty in which you’re sure there will come a time when there is a whole life of things about him which you’ll not bear witness to. It makes you cry harder, it makes you want to scream and rage and draw blood, to drink him down so that you might keep him forever. Please, please, let me keep him, let me keep him. You sob into his mouth, pull at his hair so hard he whimpers, subdues you with sharp teeth and pinching fingers. 

What is it? What is it, cyare? Tell me, and I’ll fix it for you. I cannot overcome your anguish. Your eyes are filled with darkness again, and I wish you wouldn’t cry. I know everything, and I’m still here.

You bury your face in his neck, mouth at the warm, damp salt of his skin, try and control your anguish. He doesn’t deserve these hysterics. He doesn’t deserve this. So many lies he doesn’t know you’ve embroiled him in, and you feel unfixable, like you’ll always disappoint him, like it’s inevitable. The Thalassians had been a savage reminder of this. Finally, the hiccuping cries settle, the ricocheting stone in your chest resting, and you prop your chin on his shoulder to look out at the dim surrounding cave. Steam rises off the surface of the warm pool, and the yawning mouths of the branching tributaries are pitch black holes descending into absolute darkness. You wonder, first, what it would be like to become lost in that maze of pure dark, you remember, second, that you already have been. 

“I haven’t been to a hot spring since before,” you murmur, unseeing, feel the ruffle of his overlong curls tickle your damp cheek. “I used to steal away to the ones on Carosi XII sometimes. I loved it–”

“Before…” He smoothes a large, rough paw up the sensitive line of your spine. Calluses catching at your skin, scraping and inciting. Drawing back down in a swoop to press at your tailbone, nestling his throbbing erection more snuggly between the lips of your sex. 

“My escape.” Quietly, as if speaking of it too loudly will undo the entire thing. 

“Ah.”

“It was so dark for so long,” you confess, voice full of air and ghosts.  

Both arms wrapped around your back now, he presses you tight as possible to himself, squeezes all the air and memories of the past out of your lungs. “What did it cost you? The dark, your freedom?” You wish he wouldn’t ask such things, you also want to tell him anyway. 

“Hard to define. My soul, I think. But I’m getting it back.” A soft hum, one that understands. “Have you ever felt like that… like you’d lost your soul?”

“Once or twice, maybe.” A bite to the line of muscle connecting your neck and shoulder, a slick slide of your hips ending in a jolt of pleasure. “A soul is a finicky thing to keep hold of constantly. Don’t you think?” You’ll never be happy anywhere else besides right here with him. Of this you’re absolutely certain.

“Undoubtedly. Slippery little fuckers – souls,” and his laughter is always such a gift, almost a benediction. You wrap your hand around his throat to feel the humming joy of it there, and it pulls your own from your heart, matches his happiness in the way he deserves. He deserves to have his joy reciprocated. To be with someone capable of such unadulterated happiness, that can give it to him and return it to him and amplify it ten fold. An illusory sort of thing… and Din, Din, Din deserves more than a non entity, more than something non existent. Your Mandalorian deserves so many things. You never thought it would be like this when the two of you first started this, that it would require so many things of you you’re not sure you can give. You press a soft kiss to the shell of his ear, eyes closed and safe, fingers twined through the damp curls at the back of his head. You wonder if they flop down over his forehead, if they’re laying slicked and soaking wet, pasted against his skin. You wonder what color his eyes are – dark, you think, dark and warm and rich like his hair. His scruff is grown out too, beard scratchy and a little scraggly. It leaves burns and raw marks on your skin that you press at when he’s away, not looking. The reminder of his mouth at your cunt and breasts. Another kiss to the rounding of bone behind his ear, the scrape of teeth over his jugular, the flavor of his collarbone. An entire sun inside the heart of a single man, and you wonder what that makes you. The dark sky that consumes him, perhaps? That steals the light? 

“What does your Creed cost you?”

“Everything,” he says, and your name shouts at you from his mind. The two of you are so alike in so many unknown ways again and again and again. And so many things frighten you, terrify you. You feel afraid of everything and weak and half made, only half a girl, half a creature. You don’t want him to be anything like you. You want him to be only himself full of all the greatness and goodness he possesses. 

He slides his palm between your thighs, rough fingers whispering and teasing, and then he’s pulling your hips back and notching the wide head at your entrance, wedging that thick cock inside of you, in, in, in, bumping at the mouth of your womb. No preamble, no warning, only claiming. You lay your head on his shoulder, so strong and broad, and watch your tears slide over the hill and down the valley of his back; your moan is ragged as you take him within you, and he burns inside of you like a fever. Or not like a fever, like a second heart, and there’s no reason to cry, you want to tell yourself, console yourself. He’s here, he’s as close to you as he can possibly be. And you’re happy, you are, but you are also aware. You are also yourself. You also know so many things about yourself and fate and destiny that he does not. 

“F–feel so– so fucking good, cyare.” You wrap both arms more tightly around his neck, bury your teeth in his skin, and he grips your ass with one hand, the other wrapped around your breast and pulls you harder onto his cock. “Always.”

“Din,” you whimper, clit grinding against the bone of his pelvis, little toes curling in pleasure as you moan for him.

“Yeah? Like that?” You feel him spread his knees wider beneath you, deepening the angle, and you brace your feel on the stone ledge behind him to leverage yourself better on his lap, ride him. “Fuck, yeah – just like that.” He wraps a fist in your hair, “Close your eyes. Let me see you – need to look at your face,” and he tugs your head back, chin tipped to the ceiling of the cave, throat bared, mouth hanging open. 

“Din, no– wait,” he takes too many risks. “You’re being careless–”

“Am I? I don’t give a fuck,” he grits. “I have to look at you, I have to. You can’t say no to me, you can’t tell me no.” He fucks up into you quicker, hitting that spine melting spot inside of you. “No one fucks this cunt like I do. No one,” he growls. 

No one, no one, no one. I have to look at you.

“Din, please–” you beg for something unknown. 

And he tells you that he knows and understands while he drags his fingers through your wet hair. “I know it’s so much,” and he pushes his hips up again, your cunt letting him in that little bit further, opening and blooming for him. He is changing – a changing sort of man. A phenomena of nature. He is changing you into something different. You can feel it like this hunger that cuts you in two. You fold yourself into the dream that soon your past self will be lost to you entirely if the two of you continue like this, but what worries you is that you are, in turn, changing him, as well. And you aren’t certain that whatever change wrought upon him by yourself would be something good, something that wouldn’t be damaging. 

But you… the sun could only ever change a dark thing for the better. And it was true that together you could do such incredible things, but you would not let yourself be destructive with him. You would not let yourself destroy him. “I’m not going to open my eyes,” you tell him. “I’m not going to open my eyes.”

And he begs: “Please,” but he does not say that which he’s begging for, and you won’t ask. He bends his head and pulls on the tip of your breast, sucks as much of the heavy weight of it as he can into his mouth, you’re so beautiful, he murmurs, fingertips gripping your bottom, slithering down to pet at the place where your cunt is stretched swollen around the thick root of him, wedges his fingers on either side to feel where he enters you. You rest your cheek on the crown of his head, wrapping your arms around him so that his face is buried in your breasts. The feel of his cock throbbing and swelling within you is maddening, and you’ve done this more times than you can count now, yet each time feels like there won’t be enough room within you to take him, that he’ll cleave you in two, cunt stretched to obscenity, to almost pain. The whole sun inside of a man like a god, inside of a girl who only ever wanted to be a god and failed. The whole sun illuminating the darkness into flame, and your cunt begins to pulse and flutter around him, pleasure like agony surging up your spine in electric sparks and pooling in your pelvis, tightening around him to rouse his own orgasm to spill forth and coat you from the inside. He groans savage and wanton and yours into the deep crevice of your breasts, you feel his tongue licking into the space between, tasting and branding, and you wrap around him like vines. 

Perhaps… one single moment of truth now. 

You realize you’ve never loved anything before in your entire life. You’ve never had anything to love. Din is the first. The memory of your parents, always too weak, too far removed to have ever been anything more than an acute yearning, but him, he is here, he is alive, he is with you, and you love him. 

And Din deserves so many things, but he does not deserve this. He does not deserve such a fate, such a damnation – the love of a creature such as you, a thing you’d not wish on your worst enemy. After all, it’s an impossible thing to swallow an entire sun, it’s an impossible thing to abscond entirely from the darkness. I’m sorry, you whisper as he stills within you, and he presses you so tight, as if he could squeeze out the very seed of wrongness that still lives within you.

You love him, and they will always come for you. As long as you’re alive, as long as the dark exists, as long as The Force exists they will always come for you. And one day they’ll go through him to get to you. Like some sort of grotesque chant in your mind, endlessly, without mercy, this is the only truth that remains. 

I’m sorry, you say again and again and again. 

“Cyare, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what it is.”

And a lie to comfort can surely not be such a bad thing, if done with the right intention. Surely, it cannot be such a terrible thing. “It’s only that I’m so happy,” and you know, as soon as the words leave your mouth, that he won’t believe you, but he says nothing anyways, and it only makes you feel worse, for you know that his reticence only comes by way of his own fear. He's scared for you, scared of you, of the fact that he can feel that roiling shift within you, between you, and hasn’t yet managed to solve the riddle of it, of you. You realize that here and now, he’s scared of you. And the truth of it sears you, makes you feel worse than anything the Thalassians could have ever done to you, but this is the true mark, this is the scar forming, invisible above the injury. This is the true consequence, the worry and the apprehension and the seed of fear they’d planted between the both of you. 

“I believe in you above everything else,” you tell him in lieu of all the rest, in lieu of your love. 

He’s silent for a moment, the sound of his swallowed fear, “Why does it feel…sometimes, like all you’re doing is saying goodbye to me?”

Like a lancet through the throat, like dying, something worse than the darkside, but somehow, your voice is measured and even when you tell him, “I don’t think, even if the worst happened, that I’d ever really be able to say goodbye to you.”

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[floral-force]

Hiiiiiii it’s me again to annoy you with another ask! Usually you see Din being the dense one not getting the hint about reader’s feeling for him, how about the other way round, denser than beskar, the reader just doesn’t pick up or getting on ANY of the hints or actions poor Din is doing ( which A Very shy Din think he’s doing a good job showing them about his intention ). Reader is someone just hitching a ride to Tatooine to stay with her Aunty Peli for a while. Thank you! <3

okay I am so sorry this took forever for me to respond to. my adhd brain is messy. I can only hope that my (fluffy) take on your request hits the spot. I think our tin can man definitely has the potential to be awkward and clumsy, and I love the thought of reader being oblivious. so, here it is!

(requests are open! search the tags #prompt requests or #prompts and send me an ask!)

Denser than Beskar - Oneshot

din djarin x gn!reader

summary: Your beskar-clad taxi pilot is an awkward man, and you decide it's due to his limited social interactions. Under the armor, a nervous Din Djarin thinks his flirting and hints are obvious. Will he be able to share his feelings before you're lost to the sands of Tatooine?

words: 2.2k+

warnings: none, but my blog is entirely 18+. no minors.

read on ao3 | fic masterlist

You sat in one of the co-pilot’s chairs in the Razor Crest, reading something on the datapad in your hands. The blue shades of hyperspace cast a rather soothing glow throughout the cabin, the gentle thrum of the engines an accompanist to your periodical yawns. You wiggled the toes of your boots from their perch on the edge of the control panel. A square button blinking red caught your tired eyes and you sighed, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand. It was getting harder and harder for your eyes to stay focused on the glowing white letters, and you found yourself needing to reread sentences and, eventually, entire paragraphs.

A heavy rhythm of clangs on the ladder made you sit up straight and drop your feet to the floor. You’d already been scolded once before for resting your boots on the control panel and didn’t intend on making the same mistake twice. The Mandalorian walked behind you, rummaging around for something, metal clanging around and distracting you even more from your reading. He let out a modulated, frustrated huff that was quickly replaced with a satisfied hum after a few moments. A gloved hand brushed across your shoulder and the back of your neck, sending a shiver up your spine. You kept your eyes trained on your blurry datapad, furrowing your brow.

Your beskar-clad taxi pilot sat in his worn chair in front of and to the left of yours, a grunt making you turn your head. He was bent forward over the control panel, a screwdriver turning in his steady hand. 

“What’re you doing?” You inquired, holding your datapad in your lap, cheek still resting in your palm.

He startled and the tool went sideways, a loose screw falling to the ground and rolling towards your feet. You bent over to pick it up, and his fingers brushed over yours. 

“Oh, oops!” You laughed nervously, fingers fumbling with the tiny thing. You looked up as you straightened and noticed that he was staring at you—or was he? His eyes could move under the helmet, he didn’t need to move it every which way.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, holding out his right palm. The left clenched the screwdriver in a vise grip that you only noticed because of the creak of his leather glove. 

You smiled at him, placing it gingerly in his hand. “Happens all the time. I’m always chasing after random parts for my aunt.”

There was silence as he got back to his task and you to yours. 

“Do you—” The Mandalorian cleared his throat, “Do you like working with her?”

You shrugged, eyes barely registering the Aurebesh in front of you. “It’s alright.”

There was a modulated exhale—a chuckle? —and you looked over at him quizzically. “What?”

“I just can’t see someone like you repairing ships and rewiring droids,” he said, another screw loosened and falling into his large hand. 

You turned your chair to face him again, back and neck straightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His beskar helmet snapped to look at you, screwdriver frozen. “I didn’t—I meant—”

“Go on,” you urged, interrupting his stutters.

He sighed and dropped his hand to his lap and tilted his head back. Blue streaks melted together on his helmet and armor, capturing your eyes’ interest more in five seconds than your datapad had in what felt like hours.

“I meant to say that you’re too—”

His words were interrupted by a rapid beeping, and he immediately got up, tools still in hand, dashing to the ladder. All you did was watch him with a stern face as he tossed the stools on the seat to his left, then climbed down the ladder to the hull, visor catching your eyes and then dropping to the rungs underneath him. You rolled your eyes and turned off your datapad, deciding to finish it at some point during your visit with your Aunt Peli.

Who did this guy think he was? You shook your head and folded your hands over the dark screen in your lap. You didn’t even acknowledge him when he climbed back into the cabin, opting to keep your eyes trained on the hypnotic blue shades swirling around the ship. The small green baby gurgled as the Mandalorian placed him in the pram nestled behind your chair. How someone so broad, intimidating, and gruff could have a child was beyond your understanding; all you knew was that your aunt loved the tiny creature almost as much as he did. He’d mentioned it in passing, his voice and phrasing awkward. It had struck you as odd that someone so imposing could be so unsure. You hadn’t paid it too much mind, though. You’d brushed off his awkward attempts at conversations and the way he tapped your shoulder to get your attention, chalking it up to his relatively solitary lifestyle. You understood, though, why your aunt liked him—he was capable, no-nonsense, and had an occasionally funny quip. The journey with him hadn’t been uncomfortable despite his social stumbles, and he’d been making sure you were comfortable and taken care of the entire time. 

His comment in the cabin was the first one that had made you feel slighted. Although you were grateful he’d waited until now to make a snide remark, you were annoyed that your positive perception of him was marred. Your aunt had complimented him up and down, quelling all your anxieties about him, saying she trusted him with her life. Your bubbly aunt would be disappointed to hear about this, and a part of you debated telling her, especially since he was so awkward and fumbled many of his interactions with you.

The creak of old leather yanked you out of your head—probably for the best, you figured. The Mandalorian took his place in the pilot’s chair, turning to look at you. He seemed to hesitate, helmet quickly tilting down then back up. You caught the way he clenched his fist and heard him clear his throat. 

“I’m dropping out of hyperspace. Strap in.”

You raised your eyebrows and did as told. “No ‘please?’” you teased, a little annoyance underneath it.

“I-I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He turned back to the control panel without another word. 

When you opened your mouth to apologize for the smart comment, he pushed the blinking button and the ship dropped out of hyperspace with a whoosh, the beige planet of Tatooine in full view against the black backdrop of space. You were pushed forward with the sudden change in momentum, and the Mandalorian turned to look at you after an “oof” escaped your lips. You assumed he was checking on the cooing baby behind you, but when he didn’t change his gaze, you nodded to assert that you were fine. It was only then that he turned back and began the landing protocol.

Your heart buzzed as you descended into your aunt’s hangar, her mop of curly hair moving below and arms guiding the Mandalorian. Upon touchdown, the engines started to grind to a halt, gloved hands pressing a few more buttons and flicking a switch on the control above. Before you could move, the Mandalorian was unbuckling your safety belts, his hands deft but nervous. You looked at his helmet, the visor avoiding your eyes until he was finished.

You rose and stared at him, gripping your datapad in your hands. “I, um, I guess this is it,” you shrugged.

“I suppose it is.”

He gestured to the ladder and let you climb down it first, joining you in the hold a few moments later with the baby in a satchel across his body. You stood by the door, the canvas pack you’d brought with heavy in your hand. The tap of his boots on the metal floor was joined by intermittent babbles and gurgles, and you almost blushed when he stood incredibly close to you, an armored arm brushing yours. He met your inquisitive gaze with his beskar-covered one, making you squirm. He broke it to press a button and lower the ramp, bright light making you wince as your eyes adjusted.

“There they are!” Peli shouted, a smile splitting her face. 

You grinned and ran down the ramp into her open arms, holding her in a tight hug. She pulled away and held your arms in her hands, taking you in. A broad shadow shaded your aunt and her gaze shifted up over your head. You turned around and stood at your aunt’s side, gulping at the sight of the Mandalorian, his armor glinting in the blazing suns’ light.

“Thanks for getting my shefele here safe and sound, Mando.” 

You stared at the sand under your boots, suddenly embarrassed. Heat rushed to your cheeks at your aunt’s nickname for you—little lamb—and you hoped he didn’t know what it meant. The canvas bag was heavy in your arms and the heat from the twin suns was even more imposing than it was before.

The Mandalorian nodded, and her face lit up when she saw the green baby, reaching out for him. There was a sigh, and then an excited coo from the baby as he placed the cooing child in your aunt’s waiting hands. She cradled him close, then looked up again at the Mandalorian.

“This little guy and I have some catching up to do,” she beamed. She looked at you. “Go on and head upstairs, that bag looks heavy.”

The beskar helmet trained its visor on you. He said your name with an oddly gentle tone, immediately catching your attention. “I can take your bag.”

“It’s okay, I can do it,” you said, stubborn feet already turning to move.

Your aunt groaned and yanked on your arm, her tight grip holding you back. “Mando, are you seriously gonna let my shefele carry their own stuff up to their room? Come on!”

“Auntie, it’s okay, I can do it,” you entreated, embarrassed once again.

“No, no, he could use the exercise,” she joked. “Show him where your room is.”

When you didn’t answer, he held out his hand. “I insist.”

You rolled your eyes. There was never any room to argue with your aunt, and you knew the Mandalorian wouldn’t budge either. You conceded and handed the man your duffel, turning and walking to a door a few meters away. He followed you inside and you silently walked up the narrow stairway. Without a sound, you turned left at the landing and punched in an entry code to open a door and walked into your room, stepping aside so the Mandalorian could set your bag on the floor with a grunt.

“Dank farrik, that thing is heavy. What do you have in there?” he asked with a huff, hands on his hips.

“Stuff,” you said simply.

Yet another tense silence fell over both of you, coating the air with anticipation. You looked at the cement floor and shuffled your feet, throat suddenly dry.

The Mandalorian mumbled your name. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

“It’s okay.”

“It…it isn’t.” He shook his head. “I meant to say that I..I think you’re good-looking. The, uh, words came out wrong.”

You looked up at him, heat rushing to your cheeks and lips parting slightly. You exhaled a shaky chuckle. “Yeah, you definitely messed that up.” You nudged your duffel with a sandy boot. “Was this an excuse to get me alone?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I just thought you were being polite.”

“I don’t think pretty people should have to carry their incredibly heavy bags,” he asserted. 

Your breath hitched when he took a few steps toward you, closing the distance. His chest was only inches away from yours, helmeted gaze never breaking away from your eyes. A shaking hand came to rest on your forearm, sliding down to hold your clammy hand. Thank the Force for the leather glove, you thought as he squeezed your hand in his large one.

“Are you this nice to all the pretty people you meet?”

The beskar helmet shook in denial. “Only the ones I like.”

You smiled and bit your lip, swinging your joined hands. “I never would’ve guessed.”

“Maybe I was a little too subtle.”

You shrugged and beamed at him. “Maybe I’m just dense.”

“That too,” he hummed. You gave him a playful, exaggerated gasp, quickly breaking and grinning when you heard a quiet, modulated chuckle. There was a beat of silence, then he took your other hand in his. “What would Pel—I mean, your aunt say if I came back at the end of your trip here?”

“To do what?” you inquired, raising an eyebrow. 

He ran his thumbs across the backs of your hands, shrugging his armored shoulders. “Take you back to Coruscant, or maybe take you somewhere you haven’t been before. If you’d like that,” he quickly added.

“I think that if you let her babysit that little green cutie, she’d be more than okay with it.” His shyness was endearing and making you smile like a little girl with a crush. “I haven’t been to a lot of places, so your options are very open.”

“Good to know, mesh’la.” 

The term of endearment was so soft on your ears, entirely unexpected from someone as stoic and intimidating as him. You wanted to know what it meant, but you decided to let it be for now. When he came back in seven days, you’d ask him then. Judging by the way he was caressing your hands and the way his chest was nearly pressed against yours, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he’d be calling you mesh’la or reverently murmuring your name.

fic masterlist

shefele (SHEH-fuh-leh): yiddish term of endearment; means "little lamb/sheep" mesh'la (MAYSH`lah): Mando'a; means "beautiful"

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#din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin fic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x gn!reader #gn!reader #the mandalorian x gn!reader #din djarin fluff #filled request #my fic #floral answers

[mccn-bcys]

hiii my love, can i request “were you really about to leave without saying goodbye?’ + din?

pairing: din djarin x reader

warning: fluffy, Din being cute

a/n: anything for you, my love! I hope you like this!

________________

"Were you really about to leave without saying goodbye?"

Dank Farrik

You'd caught him.

He thought you were asleep. You had laid down to take a nap with the kid, he thought he could sneak out and be back before you woke up.

Of course you'd hear when he even thought about stepping off the Crest.

He sighs as he turns around to face you. And just as he thought, you were standing there, arms crossed as you gave him a look.

"Cyar'ika..." he started to try and explain, but at your raised eyebrow he knew there was no winning this one. He sighs again as he closes the door to the Crest, stepping back in. Once it's just the two of you, he takes off his helmet amd sets it down. "I was hoping you'd still be asleep by the time I got back."

You almost hadn't heard him. You'd been too busy taking him in. Drinking in his bronze skin, the curve of his nose, those deep dark eyes, his rogue curls. He was truly beautiful. No matter how many times you saw him without the helmet, you were always left breathless by him.

"And where exactly were you going?" You asked, biting back your smile.

You knew he'd never leave without telling you so. Whether it was a job or even just to walk into the marketplace to get some supplies. You were curious as to why he was leaving without saying something. It's not that you didn't trust him. A bit worried maybe.

He used to not tell you if he was leaving or not. He used to barely speak to you. You'd never know when he was coming back or if he was coming back. It had worried you sick, especially since you had been harboring some strong feelings for him. One night he'd came back after leaving without telling and he was in pretty bad shape. It was that night that he'd found out about your feelings, and it was then that you had found out about his. It was also the night you two established the rule: 'No leaving without telling the other goodbye.'

"I was...going to go to the market," he answered honestly.

"For what?" You narrowed your eyes slightly.

"...Supplies?"

"You just got supplies two days ago, what could we possibly need?"

"Chocolate?" Of course that hadn't been the actual reason, but considering that the kid is a menace and likes to sneak into Din's Stash cabinet, he had quickly run out of the sweet treat. Your eyes narrowed a little more as you pursed your lips.

"You needed chocolate right now?"

"Oh I can't have cravings?" He asked playfully, still hoping you'd buy his poor excuse.

"Din," oh he loved how his name rolled off your tongue. "Come on...I won't get mad, I promise."

He sighed defeated. You're stubborn. And you've always been able to read through him, with or without the armor.

"I was going to go get you a present..." he admitted shyly, looking down at the ground as his cheeks turned a little pink.

"A present?" He nodded. "What for?"

"I don't know...just thought you should have one. You've been doing so much lately and I wanted to show you that I appreciated you...that I...I- uh, I-"

The words were hard for him to get out. He'd said them before, but they were still new. He felt silly saying them, they made him feel like a little boy, all giddy inside. But you knew what he was trying to say. You smiled widely as you cut him off.

"I know...but you don't have to get me anything, you know that?"

"But you deserve it, cyar'ika." He insisted. How were you supposed to no to that pout?

"Alright...but you know the rule." He grinned.

"Of course, I'll be back soon," he promised.

"Din," you said warningly.

"Goodbye," boy did he make sure to load that with those words he couldn't say.

"Goodbye, my silly tin man," you said, grinning at him as he chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before he's slipping the helmet back on and opening the door again before stepping out.

He might've gotten you a few presents instead of the promised one...to make up for his rule breaking.

________________________

send me a sentence and a character

#din djarin my love #din djarin x you #din x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin #din dijarin x reader #ask games #drabble #anything for you my dear

[iusedtobeshadow]

Soft

Title: Soft

Pairing: Din Djarin x Gn! Reader

Warning: Mention of injury

"Oh that was close, too close for my liking", you said, trying to catch your breath in the process. Easy bounties were not tokens of troubles most of the time, they were easy after all but this one truly took a turn for the worse.

You had joined Mando on this bounty since it was suppose to be an enter, get and leave situation. Mando was ofcourse against it at first but the child wanted to accompany him and you had nothing important to do so you joined forced with the kid to peer pressure the tin can man to let you two go. Maybe that was a mistake.

You sat on one of the chairs in the cockpit with a sigh, watching as the mangalorian pressed some buttons and moved some controllers, piloting the ship to the next destination.

The Razor Crest never got tired of surprising you. For such an old ship, it was still a beauty. Never in your years of being a mechanic would you have thought you would encounter a pre-empire ship.

"You should've stayed on the ship", Mando said. Your eyes drifted to the floor, he was not wrong, you should've stayed inside the ship but you didnt.

Your thoughts were cut out when you heard a pained groan escape Mando's mouth.

"Are you-"

"I am fine", Mando said cutting you off.

You sighed. You both knew he was lying. His moves were hesitant and he let out quiet groans of pain from time to time as he moved.

"Sit down big guy, i'll bring the med kit. Take your armour off only if you can, don't force yourself", you say already leaving the cockpit before you could hear a protest.

You were never interested in learning the arts of medicine but when you work with someone like Peli, you get forcely introduce in things one was never interested in.

"Now where is that kit?", you asked yourself as you started looking. You then heard a familiar "coo" close by.

You turned around to find the child slowly walking towards you with its hands up.

"Why hello there buddy, by any chance have you seen the medic kit?", you asked the child jokingly as you lift it up, holding it with one arm.

The kid lets out another "coo" like sound and you chuckle.

After some more looking, you finally found the medical kit. You opened it just in case anything is not useful which to your luck, everything was good and intact.

"Hey, sorry for the wait. The kit was basically playing hide and seek anD- OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY!-". You quickly turned around before you could see his face.

"You can turn around now, the helmet's on", Mando said.

"Don't worry Mando, I saw nothing", you stated as you turned around. You knew about the mandalorian code since you were a kid. They cared for secrecy out of all and their "This is the Way" thinking. That's why you never asked Mando and respected his privacy, which you noticed he greatly appreciated even if not shown.

Your thoughts were cut off by another groan that came out from the Mandalorian's mouth.

"Okay Mando, show me your boo boo", the Mandalorian scuffed but did so. He had a big nasty cut on his leg and a few bruises on his arms and without any more waiting, you got to work, putting the kid down beforehand just to have more hands to work with.

There was a comfortable silence between one another, Mango letting a groan out from time to time.

"Alright, apart from the cut on your leg, youre as as good as new-", you stopped and got up. "I will leave the medic kit so you can check if you have any cuts on your...face".

Mando stayed quiet for a moment which was your sign to leave the cockpit but as you did, he grabbed your wrist, with enough force to stop you but not enough to hurt you.

"Wait, you have a cut", he said while tapping a part of the cheeck area of his helmet.

"I do? Didn't even notice. Was that why you were staring holes to my head while i treated your cut?", you said

"Yes, sit", he "ordered", and sit down you did.

"Didn't take you for the medical type, Mando"

"It comes with the job, where's the kid?", Mando asked while he cleaned the wound on my arm.

We then heard a "coo" sound, big eyes staring right at us and Mango looked back, almost like a smile.

You chuckled, "soft".

He looked back at me with a puzzled look.

"You've grown soft, Mando", you said while looking at the child.

The mandalorian closed the kit and gave it to you.

"I'm not the only one", he said, looking directly at you.

"We've both grown soft".

#din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin #gn!reader #gn!mc #gender neutral reader #x reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x y/n #din djarin x reader #injury

[flilisskywalker]

Can we talk about sex in The Mandalorian? Let’s talk about sex in The Mandalorian.

Because holy bantha, the third season is filled with sex. “But it’s a kid’s show. It has a green baby that helps sell toys.” True. It’s also a show that likes to flirt with the idea of sex between Din and Bo-Katan. 

In chapter 19, after they leave Mandalore, Bo says she would invite him for a feast in her castle if he was helmetless.

You could say she is just inviting him to eat some food, but considering she fed that tin can with pog soup in the Mines and her lips parted when she watched this man bathing in full armor (She’s been horny for him since The Heiress), that invitation is not for dinner.

It’s for SEX.

Then in chapter 22, an episode surrounded by romance, Din and Bo go to a planet called Plazir-15. Plazir is the french word for PLEASURE. Exactly, PLEASURE. One of the concept arts for the episode has written in aurebesh on one of the buildings “LUST Alley.” 

In the droid bar, the bartender says random shit no one cares until he brings out of nowhere that HUMAN LIFE IS SHORT and immediately after he says this, Bo-Katan smiles at Din.

 If you watched enough movies, you know that when two characters who are very close realize their life is short, they do something about it. THEY FUCK. 

Jon Favreau is basically telling you that they should be fucking their brains out. 

Oh yeah, they also receive a key to Plazir (PLEASURE), which is metaphorical as hell.

Then in chapter 23, Din receives from Greef a bottle of Coruscant liquor for SMALLER GATHERING. Hmm, I wonder who the hell is the smaller gathering. Definitely not the person he spent the whole season glued to. Definitely not Lady Bo-Katan Kryze *winks* 

Then in chapter 24, everybody thought they crushed the DinBo dream, but during Grogu’s adoption, Din’s helmet is wet and now the documentary confirmed there is a scene of him being redeemed again. 

BUT WHY THE HELL THIS MAN WHO DOESN’T LIKE TO REMOVE HIS HELMET FOR ANYTHING WOULD HAVE TO BE REDEEMED. 

Unless...

He took off his helmet. 

BUT WHY WOULD HE REMOVE IT AGAIN? 

The question is not why, my friends, the question is TO WHO. 

And the answer is obviously Bo-Katan because this woman was hungry for this man since season 2. Add this to Katee Sackhoff joking that her favorite part of the finale was when they had sex in the Waters, which I’m not even sure it’s that much of a joke anymore. 

In conclusion, Din and Bo fucked in season 3. 

#the mandalorian #star wars #dinbo #mando season 3

[lady-charinette]

My tin can man out here being a hypocrite

"He's too young to fight."

"I'm his ward, proceed."

Oh Din...

#the mandalorian #mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian spoilers #din djarin #grogu #greef karga

[darklordofthesimp]

Perfidy (Din Djarin x Reader)

Din was having trouble with a bounty. You, on the other hand, couldn't get rid of them. You became the bait in his plan for a successful hunt, a plan that he failed to mention.

A/N: Classic angst, betrayal, lies, oh my! AND THERE WILL BE NO PART 2. YOU WILL ALL SUFFER.

Category: Angst

Warnings: Sexual harassment, Inappropriate Touching, Swearing

"I saw your bounty today," you muttered, more to yourself than anything. The man you'd been trying to converse with for the last ten minutes was otherwise distracted. It was usually the case that after unsuccessful days, the Mandalorian would check out and wallow in frustration. The commonplace event didn't make it any less irritating.

You dragged your jumper over your knuckles, desperately trying to tempt your body heat to spread. The temperature of the Crest was frigid and your fingers ached from the cold. Distantly, you missed the hot suns of Tatooine, the warmth that would beat against your skin as you worked, it was blissful in comparison to this.

The spoon clattered from his hands, startling you from your thoughts. You shot him a questioning stare and he cleared his throat, setting the Child to the floor. The little one was off in a flash, he was rarely allowed to explore without supervision and you had no doubt you'd find him in your tool bag later.

"You-" he shook his head, "you saw the bounty?"

You nodded hesitantly.

"Where?" The word was harsh as he leaned in, finally allowing you his undivided attention. You weren't so sure you wanted it now.

"The market," you stammered confusedly. "Well, I couldn't get rid of him actually..."

There was a short silence as you let your eyes drag back to the man before you. He was watching you and although you knew it wasn't you that he was interested in, you still felt heat rise to your cheeks.

"Turns out he has a thing for humans," you rolled your eyes, disgusted by the memory. "Apparently he harasses them every day down there. Remind me to never go back."

The memory of his grimy hands gripping your body made your stomach churn. It was only with the intervention of a kind shopkeeper did the Trandoshan stop his groping.

Your companion said nothing, leaning back into his seat. He was characteristically quiet, but this was a different type. Of course, you were sure that he had to know that chasing a bounty in bright reflective metal was going to alert them. It wasn't the first time he'd had to wait and definitely not the first time that you'd run into them first.

You swallowed hard, letting loose a shaky breath. "The sooner you get him the better."

"Yeah," you said quickly, maybe too quickly. You stood up and gathered your things, offering him a tight-lipped smile. "You're doing the shopping from now on, though."

He nodded his agreement and you both settled into another silence. Shifting in your seat, you suddenly felt uneasy. You hadn't wanted to remember the events of the day, and now you felt as though you were going to be violently ill.

"Are you okay?" He asked hesitantly.

The hunter remained quiet as you left.

___

"I need you to pick up something for me."

That was what you had woken up to. It was an unpleasant way to say 'good morning', you supposed, there couldn't really be anything good about it now. There wasn't the tiniest sliver of anything pleasant regarding those markets or the creatures that lingered there.

"There are specific flight suits I need," he asserted, folding his arms. Your eyes narrowed. Hadn't you just told him yesterday that you wouldn't be going back to that Maker-forsaken flea market? The tin can knew that you'd been harrassed, didn't he care?

You snorted internally, of course he didn't. You were his employee, no matter what your feelings were, he saw you as a tool to be used. Not a companion, not a friend, nothing more, simply a solution to his technical problems.

And with that, you rolled your eyes. "I'm your mechanic, not your dry cleaner. Get your own shit, Mando."

The hunter's arms fell from his chest and he let his fingers rest against his belt. With a slow stride forward he sighed.

"Please," his voice was low and imploring, a tone he had never taken with you. To make matters worse he said your name, not your last but your first. "I can't do this by myself, I need your help."

You squinted at him. "Are you guilt-tripping me?"

"No."

"You are."

"Listen," he threw his hands up in exasperation and you leaned back. No matter what he said, you would not be going back there and you couldn't believe that he was even suggesting it. The Mandalorian cupped your shoulders, gloved fingers twitching against your hot skin.

Your lips parted, watching him with blatant surprise.

"Please, as a friend. As...what we are, I need your help."

The words stunned you. Not only had he dropped that he considered you to be a friend but what he had implied after? The feelings that you had dug a hole for and buried were beginning to resurface and you clenched your teeth.

"Fine," you growled.

___

The market was just as you remembered it, hot and stuffy, reeking of spices and meat. You hated it. Tugging the hood of your cloak lower against your face you exhaled hard.

Flight suits, come on.

You knew the vendor that the Mandalorian would need his things from. The unfortunate part of that is it would land you in the same sector that you had last seen the Trandoshan. That was a character you had no intention of coming into contact with again.

Distantly, you wondered if your companion had found him yet, you hoped that he'd roughed him up some and thrown him in carbonite. It would be a small piece of justice to help you sleep at night.

"Hello there, little thing."

Your heart leaped into your throat. No, no, no, no.

"You thought that cloak would hide you?" A hand rested against the small of your back and you scrambled forward, spinning on your heels. The lizard grinned terribly, hands raised as if to signal peace.

"Oh, my morsel is jumpy today!"

"Leave me alone," you snapped. Your stomach churned violently, low and lurching. This is exactly what you had been trying to avoid, you weren't even anywhere near the vendor yet.

The bounty crooned, shaking his head with a mocking pout. "Come now, that's not what you really want."

You were backed against an abandoned cart, and with a quick observation, you knew that the nearby merchants would be of no help. Downturned eyes purposely avoiding the disaster unfolding, it made you sicker than you already were.

"Get the fuck away from me," you snarled, searching the cart for a weapon. A jagged piece of wood was the best you could find and you knew it wouldn't do much. Not with that blaster mounted on the Trandoshan's belt.

The slimy creature approached slowly, "You'll beg me to be closer. They all do."

He was tall, easily towering over your cowering frame. They were known for their strength and warrior prowess and you were in no position to do anything but run. You were boxed in, attempting to run would only mean running straight into his arms and exciting him further.

"Fuck off!" You screamed, your voice hoarse. "Somebody fucking help me! Please!"

Your cry broke off into a sob as his hands settled on your hips, that reptilian tongue tracing his mouth grotesquely. You wanted to throw up, there was nothing you could do but pray. Pray that someone would gain the courage to help, pray that Mando found you, pray that the bounty would just kill you first.

"We're going to have fun-"

The sentence finished in a choked gasp. You hadn't even registered the blaster shot.

You whimpered when the creature fell forward, his steaming body collapsing against your frame. His face fell into the crook of your neck and you let loose a wretched scream. "Get off, get off, get off."

As if an unknown deity had heard your prayers, the limp lizard slid from your body to a crumpled pile on the floor. Your chest heaved, tears burning the skin of your cheeks. You could barely breathe.

The Mandalorian was before you in an instant, "are you hurt? Are you okay?"

You said nothing, throwing yourself into his arms without a second thought. You had never given him a handshake, let alone a hug, but at that moment you didn't care. You cared about nothing other than the fact that he had saved you and protected you where others couldn't.

Din's arms came around you easily, holding you tightly to his chest. It was enough to open the flood gates. You cried, and you did it hard. Convulsing gasps, racking sobs, jumbled words, it was a blur that you made no effort to remember.

"You're okay, Cyar'ika, You're okay."

His words were maundered, the same sentence slipping like a prayer.

"Let me take you home."

__

You sat quietly, watching the Mandalorian as he busied himself in the cabin hold. There was no real reason for him to be down there, you knew. He was lingering to keep an eye on you, gauge your mood, manage your needs and ensure that you were okay.

It was sweet... but it wasn't adding up.

The flight suits hadn't been mentioned, and while that may be because the priority has shifted, it could also be because he already had enough. You remembered that he had bought a bunch on the last planet you'd visited. He'd called it his yearly restock. Yearly.

On top of that, the hunter had told you he would be in the suburbs, searching the huts and consulting the people. Nowhere near the markets. Considering that was the last known sighting of the Trandoshan, why would he send you to the markets and search in the opposite direction?

Why had he even asked you to go there in the first place? You told him. You told him that the bounty had harassed you, that he had an obsession with 'pretty little humans'.

He would never purposely put you in harm's way, he barely allowed you off the ship. There was no way.

There was no way.

But as you watched him, in the dim lighting of the cargo hold, guiltily lingering, you thought you could be wrong. You prayed you weren't.

You wantonly begged any deity who could hear you, hoping that they would dispel your fears, that you were wrong and just shaken from the events of the day. You wished it wasn't true, that he genuinely cared about you and hadn't just done what you thought he had.

But the lead that settled in your chest, dragging your lungs down to your stomach, said otherwise. You asked anyway.

"Did you know?" You pondered quietly, unable to force the words out louder. It felt like the air had been stolen from you, your sentence barely a rasp.

The Mandalorian fumbled the spanner in his hand and it clattered against the table. Those broad shoulders stilled, and every ounce of his body turned to proverbial stone. He made no move to face you, another red flag that sent heat crawling through your system. Red rage licked at your face, a poison exploring every crevice beneath the skin.

"Din," you snapped, acid dripping from his name. "Did you know?" "

The warrior turned, and he did it torturously slow, as though he was hoping you would be gone by the time he faced you. He was silent. You knew then that he was guilty.

The floor felt as though it had been ripped out from beneath you, your heart pounding in your ears, so loud that you couldn't hear your own thoughts. He wouldn't.

Your vision swam, the hot tears threatening to spill over your lashes. Searching his features did nothing for you, there were no eyes to look into, no mouth to watch for expression, no skin to touch.

His fingers twitched by his side, a habit of anxiety.

"Cyar'ika," his words trembled. "I'm sorry."

Sorry? That was all he had to offer? An apology?

You couldn't process what was happening. You had been so fucking stupid. So stupid as always, never seeing things or people for what they truly were. So fucking desperate to be loved like a dejected pet that only wanted affection.

He was a Mandalorian.

Why had you ever thought that there could ever be anything between you? Why did you think that he's be anything other than transactional?

He was smart, so, so smart. The hunter had known that you were the perfect target to draw the skittish Trandoshan out. He also knew that you would never have agreed to be bait had he asked you outright.

Your fist clenched, wanting nothing more than to smack your head hard for your sheer fucking naivety. You were embarrassed, so humiliated you couldn't even begin to put those feelings into words. Nothing could describe the overwhelming landslide that overcame you, there was no word strong enough for it.

When he knew you wouldn't cooperate, he tried a different tactic.

"Please, as a friend. As...what we are, I need your help."

Your ears could have bled at the memory of that voice, of that sentence, of that manipulation.

Mando approached you, spurting apologies to console. You heard nothing.

"You used me," you sobbed.

Hands gripped your body, "we will have such fun together, you and I, little morsel."

"No, no, no, listen," Din pleaded, hands raised to signal peace. But you didn't want peace. You wanted to leave. You wanted him gone.

You could still smell the salty sweat of the bounty, his tongue flicking toward your face to try to capture your scent.

The racing beat of your heart, your desperate screams for help, the realization that you may be dragged into slavery by a cruel and sick master. The thought that you would never see your bounty hunter again. You'd thought that your life was at the end.

He had let that happen.

For a job.

For credits.

"You knew I loved you," you struck your palms against the beskar plating of his chest. "You knew I'd do anything you asked if you sweetened it a little."

He whispered your name, grasping your wrists. Din was shaking his head, but he couldn't deny what you were saying, and you both knew it. You both knew that you were right.

"You knew and you used me and you sent me out there!" The tears warbled your voice, nearly indecipherable words delivered in a grating scream. "You didn't fucking care! You never did! You just let him... You let him-"

The man before you didn't let you finish, hushing you softly as though calming a restless baby. "Of course, I care. I would never have let him do anything, please, you have to know that. I would never-"

"But you did!" You bellowed, the words a condemnation of every promise the Mandalorian had ever made, any lie of protection he had spewed. He was deceitful, he had played you, he had been smarter than you.

And you were too soft.

You ripped your hands from him, stumbling away from his grip. The sight of him used to set your heart alight, every prayer that he would finally notice you falling on deaf ears. You only wanted a sliver of his attention, anything that would show you he cared.

But now, as you appraised him, the vision made you sick.

"Please," he whispered, reaching for you from where he stood. You smacked his hand away, baring your teeth. The hatred you felt was unlike anything you had ever experienced, it was almost a spiritual possession. Every ounce of your body buzzed with rage, your fingertips electric with violent fury.

It felt better than the hurt.

Anything felt better than his betrayal.

"I hope to never see you again," you said, a frightening calm washing over your body. "I hope you get everything you deserve."

"Where will you go," he shook his head. "Let me take you back to-"

"And when you do finally get what you deserve," you interrupted, turning on your heel, "I will not be at your funeral."

There was only silence from behind you.

It was all he knew to do, you realized as you grabbed your satchel from the floor. He could offer nothing more than that endless, infuriating, unsatisfying silence.

You hoped he would one day choke on it.

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #din djarin x y/n #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #baby yoda #grogu

[jessicas-pi]

Ok. I’m asking about Mandalorianakin since I was a part of that original fic rambling/enabling. 😄

But if that’s taken I want to know about Bo-Katan and Her Tin Can Man because that’s new!

(And I want you to know that I’m not asking about Time Heals ON PURPOSE because I’m really looking forward to the next chapter!)

Aw, thanks!!! :)

I got a couple asks about Mandalorianakin, so I think I'll share a snippet of Bo-Katan And Her Tin Can Man. That's my silly little working title for the fic I'm writing for the Sabezra-Dinbo joint ship week!

Oh, and it's also a sequel to 11.

Here's a snippet!

Bo spent the whole way to Nevarro thinking about what she could possibly say to explain her presence, but in the end, all she needed to do was remove her helmet, and before she could say a word, Din told her she looked like she needed a day off. “That’s… why I’m here,” she replied, and he stepped to the side in his doorway and let her into his house, nodding to Ragnar as he followed Bo-Katan inside. “Bo,” announced a robotic voice, and she startled a little, only to see Grogu in a high seat at the table. There was a sort of control panel full of buttons in front of him, and he was rapidly smacking his hand on one of them. “Bo. Bo. Bo. Bo. Bo. Bo.” “Hello, Grogu,” she said, smiling for maybe the first time in weeks. Grogu stared at her, then hit a different button. “Up. Up. Up. Bo. Up. Bo. Bo. Up.” “He wants you to pick him up,” Din said, a trace of amusement in his voice. “Bo. Bo. Yes. Up. Yes. Yes. Up. Bo. Up. Yes.” “Clever,” she remarked, stepping over and lifting up the obliging little one. “How has his training been going?” Din didn’t answer until she looked at him. “Grogu is capable, but also… stubborn.” “I knew someone like that,” Bo-Katan said quietly. “An excellent warrior. Brave, skilled… but afraid of the damage she could cause.” Din titled his head, just a little, so Bo-Katan explained. “My sister. In her youth, she was the greatest warrior Clan Kryze had, until she abandoned those ways and led our people to choose pacifism. Then, I saw it as a betrayal.” “And now?” “Now I think she was wiser than many of us, in some ways.” Bo-Katan shook her head. “But I came here to get away from politics, not to bring them with me.” Din nodded once, then spoke in that deliberate way he had. “There’s a festival tonight. I was going to take Grogu. If you and Ragnar would like to…” She looked at the boy, and he nodded eagerly. “We would love to.” And now she and Din were walking through the streets of the city side-by-side, shoulders almost touching, Bo-Katan’s heart was racing once again, and a little voice in her head kept telling her that she had a chance at always feeling this way—all she had to do was to say the word.

#guess who else is at the Nevarro festival?? If you guessed sabine and ezra and ezra's adopted kids you would be right! #dinbo #fic snippet #fic sneak peek #thanks for the ask!! :)

[dindjarindiaries]

Hey Molly!

Spud here, just stopping by to spread a little bit of positivity in your inbox 🐸🩷

Firstly just wanted to say how much I love your entire blog layout and aesthetic aaah it's always such a delight to be greeted with lots of Din and plenty of hot pink. He really suits that colour!

Honestly, I love your blog so much, it feels like such a safe, welcoming place to be and your posts about Din are always hilarious. It feels so nice to know that I'm not alone screaming into the void about that tin can man while we wait (im)patiently for the Mando movie heheh.

I appreciate all the work you put into creating a friendly place here and participating in Dincember was so much fun, such a cool idea and it helped me to connect with new people and I loved reading your entries for that. Hope to do it again this year and I will eventually make my way through your writing too hehe. (My tbr list is embarrassingly long atm🫣!)

Anyway, hope you have a lovely day and thank you for interacting with me! Sending hugs🤗 and this gif of Din as a parting gift:

(I was going to insert a soft gif but then I saw this one and yeah. YEAH...)

I took my time getting around to this because OH MY WORD!!!! HOW SWEET!!!! Thank you so much for taking the time to send this my way! And the GIF??? Oh it's perfect, many of you all here know how much I love Chapter 6 Din Djarin!!

Sending you all the same love and light back! 💞

#you are a sweet sweet soul my friend #nice things #you have spoken

[firstofficerwiggles]

Uhm, would it be possible to do a letter from both Luke Skywalker and Din Djarin? Like not at the same time but a romantic one where the reader is in a polygamous relationship with both of them for your 1200 follower celebration? If not a romantic one with Luke is just fine. Something sweet, lots of pet names maybe spicy but not a necessity. I’m 24 but I don’t know if you can tell by my blog. If you can’t like I said spicy isn’t necessary. I work in a care home for the mentally disabled helping care for people who can’t care for themselves and when I’m home I work on a novel I’m writing. I’d love if either of those could be mentioned in it. I don’t really have anything specific in mind other than maybe mentioning my hobby of painting landscapes. Maybe I painted Luke or Din one in it? I dunno.

This was an interesting idea so I came up with a bit of a twist on my original idea. Instead of a written letter, let’s say Luke was recording a message for you and Din just couldn’t stay silent and had to chime in. They’re on a mission together for the New Republic…

Luke: waving to the camera Hi love! We hope you’re doing good at home. This mission is off to an interesting start.

Din: leaning into view with a sigh If by interesting you mean we got lost and almost crashed, then yeah, it’s been interesting.

Luke: pushes Din lightly Now, now, don’t upset our sweetheart, we’re all fine, totally fine. Things might not have started well but they’re on track now. 

Din: skeptical huff

Luke: sheepish smile So anyway, love, we’re here and we’re good, but we miss you very much. I hope your work isn’t too stressful today. You’re so kind and you take such good care of the people there.

Din: They’re lucky to have you, cyar’ika. He nods to emphasize his statement

Luke: all smiles Yes, just like we are. 

Din: Just remember to take care of yourself too. We don’t want you to wear yourself out.

Luke: Yes, maybe take some time to do some painting, it always seems to relax you. And you know how much I’m looking forward to seeing that one with Din and me that you’ve been working on.

Din: You’re very talented, cyar’ika.

Luke: You’re incredible, sweetheart, we both appreciate seeing the art you create. He shivers a bit It’s getting a little chilly here, I wish you could be here for cuddles. I guess I’ll just have to make do with our tin can man here.

Din: does his oh really? helmet tilt I’ll make us a fire, I wouldn’t want your little butt to freeze. He chuckles and looks at the camera I wish you were here too, cyar’ika, you’re much softer and you smell the best out of all three of us. 

Luke: sticks his tongue out at Din and starts a fire with his lightsaber 

Din: laughs Well, look at that, our Jedi has many tricks up his sleeve. You don’t have to worry, cyar’ika, we won’t be too cold without you, but we will miss you like crazy.  

Luke: softly smiling we’ll be home soon, sweetheart but until then remember how much I love you.

Din: I love you too, cyar’ika, with all my heart.

They cuddle up together by the fire and wave at you

Send in an ask for Wiggles' 1200 Follower Celebration

#the mandalorian #din djarin #luke skywalker #din djarin x reader x luke skywalker #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #wiggles follower celebration

[chalterdh22]

Chapter 46: Do You Want Me to Tell Everyone?

We all had a nice, relaxing evening and went to bed early.  When I woke up, I had Grogu curled up next to me in my bed.  I slowly got up to go to the refresher and to look to see what time it was.  It was just approaching 6 am.  I then peaked in our spare room and Din was in there sleeping.  Good, he got back ok.

I walked out to the kitchen to make some caf.  While that was brewing, I walked outside.  There was a chill in the air still, that would soon go away by the suns beating down on this planet.  I loved the early mornings here.  They were on the quieter side, before it got crazy in this town.

“Good morning!”  Mom yelled, waking up half the block.

“Shhhh, dang mom, people are still trying to sleep!”

“So, are you guys taking off soon?  Or do you get to hang out around here and, I don’t know, maybe help on a project or two?”  Knowing mom, one or two projects meant we’d be working for her for at least a week. 

“I’m not sure.  I’ll ask when Din gets up what the plan is.”

“Oh, I see, he makes the decisions!  I get it!  Your father was like that too and look what happened there.”  I shook my head and walked away.  “I’m just saying!”  She yelled back at me, and if they weren’t up already, they would be now.  Right on cue, Grogu came waddling out.

“Hey little man!  Sorry she woke you up.”  He waddled past me and went to mom to pick him up.

“Well, would you look at that!”  He was snuggling in her arms looking up at her.  “Are you hungry?  Well, that’s a stupid question, Peli, of course you are!  You’re a growing boy, aren’t ya!”  He made a few noises at her as she went into the kitchen. 

I walked back inside and sat at the table, just watching them.  She baby talked to him, and he loved it!  I know what he’s capable of, but still, he’s still a little kid too.  He needed that kind of attention as well.

A gloved hand set on my right should and squeezed it lightly.  I looked up and him, smiled, and told him good morning.

“Good morning.  Did you have a nice time yesterday?”

“We sure did!  We talked about you the whole time!”  Mom yelled from the kitchen.  I felt my face grow beet red.  He quickly looked down at me.

“Oh, we did not!  Stop teasing him!”  Giving mom the stink eye.

“Oh, calm down, ya tin can, it’s not all about you!”  I think at this point he was thinking just get me out of here.

“Anyway, when do you want to leave?  Mom says she has a few projects we can help her with if we wish to.”

“Projects?  What kind of projects?”

“Nothing too stressful, maybe two days, tops!”  She’s still banging around in the kitchen.  He looked back down at me.

“It’s up to you.  I’m cool with staying a few extra days, but I didn’t know your schedule.”

He sighed.  “We can stay two days, TWO, Peli!”

“Yeah, I heard ya!  Geesh, keep your helmet on!”

After we all ate breakfast, mom showed us her two “little projects.”  Honestly, they weren’t that bad, and it’d give me an excuse to stay longer, which I didn’t mind.

At the end of the day, we had all been wiped out, organizing, and moving parts for mom, to make room for her new ship.  She was like a kid, bouncing up and down.  Even Grogu wasn’t this hyped up usually!

That evening, as we were just sitting on the floor in the living room, relaxing, I told mom about the job I had, and quit.  But that was always there for me. 

Then she proceeded to tell us about all these people and how they were trying to rip her off and owe her money.  She was a fantastic storyteller and if you didn’t know her, you’d feel bad.  But most of this was her own doing. 

She was sitting in between Din and I and Grogu was hopping from one person to another for extra play time before bed.

“Ugh, you’re so hyper!  Come here, you little womprat!”  I grabbed him and started tickling his neck and belly, until he had a full-blown laugh going on.  “I’m going to tickle you until you get tired!”  Well, that didn’t work, he just hoped to mom’s lap, wanting the same thing, which she obliged with kisses too.

And then, he hopped onto Din’s lap and looked up at him with his big eyes. 

“Aww, he wants some daddy tickle time.”  Mom pointed out.  Din grunted and moved his finger under his little chin, which actually made him giggle, and then he hopped back to me.

“You know, when Suri was a little kid, I used to get her good when she’d walk by and wasn’t expecting it!”  I felt my face growing red again and let out a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, mom, you sure did get me,” I said and started shifting away from her.  “It’d scare me more than anything!”

“Nah, you loved it! See!”  And as quick as a cat, she poked my side and a stupid grin appeared on my face.  I kept scooting away, looking at Din like he should do the same, but he just stayed, sitting next to her.  Grogu then jumped from my arms back to mom’s.  “And I know you love it, little guy!”  She was poking him and making him squeal.  It really was adorable.

Grogu then tumbled off her lap, waddled to the middle of us and fell down, seated, like he had had enough.  I got this weird sensation happening, that made me squirm, and I noticed Din was starting to do the same thing.  I quickly grabbed him and said no, and then blew raspberries on his tummy.  He started to sink into my lap, like he was finally getting tired, as we all were.  I couldn’t dare let him use his powers in front of mom though, especially that!

I rocked him for a few minutes and realized he had passed out now, so I took him in the room that Din was staying in.  I quietly put him in the little cot, covering him up.  Leaning in to kiss him goodnight, I heard a weird yell come from the other room.  Great, now what? 

I started walking out there to tell them to keep it down, when I noticed Din, holding my mom’s wrists firmly in place telling her no, but giggling as he said it.

“What’s going on?”  I asked cautiously.

“Suri, did you know Mando here is ticklish?  Is this for real or what?”

“Mom, leave him alone before he hurts you!”  I was only half serious when I said that.

He released her wrists as she was still smiling, eyeing him up and down.  “Oh, come on Mando, you know you liked it.  Although, I didn’t hear a real laugh come from you.”  She said as she put a finger to her mouth.

“Mom, let it go or I’ll give him permission to use a blaster on you!”

“Ha, what will people say if they found out this guy can be taken down by a little tickling!  People would pay good money to see that!”

“Peli, no!  You can’t say anything.”  I could tell he was now serious.

“Ok mom, you had your fun.  Just stop.”

“Well, maybe I can keep my mouth shut, but I want to hear a real laugh, Mando!”

I looked over at him, trying to gauge what he was feeling.  He definitely wasn’t mad, but he was nervous.  It was like she would expose him or something.

“Mom….” I said sternly. 

“What?  I never get to have any fun!  Let me have my fun!”

“Your fun is making others suffer!  Don’t do that to him!”  I all but was shouting now, actually getting mad at her.  I think Din sensed the tension growing.  He sighed.

“It’s fine, Peli.  Just for a minute though.”  He said pointing a finger at her.  Oh no, I thought.  Her minutes weren’t minutes.  She’s worse than a kid sometimes, I swear.

“Din, you really don’t…”  I couldn’t even get the last few words out as she reached for his sides and started digging.  He let out a huge, barking laugh, and curled over towards her, like he couldn’t even handle it.

Then she must have snuck her hands up to his upper ribs because he stiffened up his arms and threw himself back taking her with him.  “Pelllliiii, pppleeeeasee ssttttoooppp!”

“Oh, no, you gave me a minute and it’s only been like 10 seconds!”

“Mom, let him go!  He can’t even breath right now!”

“Nah, the womprat is fine, see!”  She pulled her hands out of his armpits, as he was breathing hard, but still breathing. 

“Theereee, arrre yyyyou done?”

“Nope!”  She then grabbed a hold of his thighs, which made him jump about a foot in the air.  This poor guy.  And I just sat there with a grin on my face.  I just couldn’t help it.  My tiny, little spunky mom was taking done a fully suited Mandalorian.  And yes, I know, he could have stopped it at any time, but he played along.

I finally got up and grabbed her arms.  “Ok, ok, I think he’s laughed enough!”  She finally leaned back against a chair with a smile on her face that would never come off.  I reached for Din, who was laying on his back breathing hard, still twitching a little.  “Are you ok?”

He just shook his head yes.

“Of course, he’s fine.  It doesn’t kill anyone!”

“Well, not yet!  Seriously mom, don’t say anything, for real!”

“Oh, calm down you two!  Geesh!  You’re worse than kids!”  She stood up and yawned.  “Well, that exhausted me.  Good night you two!  Sleep tight Mando!  Ha!”

I shook my head and looked back at him, still lying there.  “I’m sorry, she’s the worse.”  He nodded in agreement.

#pedro pascal #grogu #star wars #the mandalorian #mandalorian and grogu #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #grogu djarin #mando #tickle scenarios

[phoenixkaptain]

Absolutely adored the second season of the Mandalorian. It was so worth it, it was so cool, it was so fun, I loved it.

Highlights!

Frog lady. Frog lady and her frog husband and their frog baby and the frog language and she hops!!! I love frog lady, I want her to have her own show, I love her.

Din trying to tell Grogu how to wire his ship is exactly how it feels trying to explain something to a child. It was too realistic. It was also very funny.

Boba Fett! What a cool guy, he should have a book series, or a tv show or something. He seems neat.

Not to be a lesbian about Cara Dune but oh my god. Oh my god. Ohm ygod.

Luke Skywalker, my boy, he’s returned! He’s so cool! He crumples up the robot like a tin can!!! I love him and I love that he wore his most dramatic cape to come. He knew he would have to make a good first impression and by golly he did it. Did you see his cape??? Did you see it? He’s so dramatic I love him.

Speaking of jedi: Ahsoka!!!!! She looks so cool and she emerges from the mist and she does the horror movie villain thing, just like Din, they should be besties!!! I love her.

I love most of the characters actually? I didn’t like Mayfeld all that much until he shot that guy in the neck. Honestly? Fave scene. That guy deserved being shot in the neck and worse. 10/10, Mayfeld is redeemed, I’m glad he’s there :)

Din Djarin is a puppy dog of a man, please let him wear his helmet. It’s his emotional support. No one would ever take him seriously is they could see those big brown eyes. And those curls? And that moustache? I just want to ruffle his hair and pinch his cheeks and give him a slice of pie or something, he’s adorable.

All in all, loved it. 10/10. Love the message that the old ways are outdated and change is a good thing. 1000/10. Seeing Moff Gideon so scared he tries to off himself is worth every second of his screen time. 1000000/10. Can’t get over Din Djarin being the cutest little deadly bounty hunter in the galaxy.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #ahsoka tano #cara dune #boba fett #frog lady #luke skywalker #star wars #i love evil people being scared #i love cocky evil people being scared #i love the guy who said he knew everything being taken by surprise #i love that grogu asked his dad permission #before leaving with a stranger #i love luke skywalker #nothing specific just him in general #why is din so cute??? #i know he’s killed people #i know he’s a merciless bounty hunter #but every time i see that silly little moustache #i am willing to forget all of it #the inane ramblings of a madman #long post

[pedrito-friskito]

✨kay’s ultimate pedro ranking✨

ok ok ok ok @mandosmistress did this a while back (like a few days lmao what is time) and tagged me and I HAVE BEEN T H I N K I N G let me tell you.

so without further ado, under the cut is my (not so definitive) pedro pascal character ranking…..! (based mainly on attraction/how much I enjoy writing them)

FRANKIE MORALES. frankie. frankie frankie frankie. my man. sunshine of my life (haha see what I did there). there is just something about this character that really crawled into my chest, wrapped himself around my heart and said ”hi I live here now” and I’m cool with it. handsome in that rugged way, a little bit damaged, and good with his hands? done. hook, line, and sinker.

DIN DJARIN. oh the sweet soft-spoken tin can space man. in all honesty, him and Frankie fight for the top spot on a daily basis and sometimes the beskar-covered bounty hunter wins, and he truly was my pedro gateway drug so he’s gotta be high on my list.

JAVIER PEÑA. ohhhhhh mama I love me some Javi. (do I mainly blame my gargantuan crush on @the-ginger-hedge-witch and her brilliant Crush series YES AS A MATTER OF FACT I DO) something about those tight fuckin’ jeans and the stache and the aviators like yep honey take me I’m yours

JAVIER GUTIERREZ. sunshine baby angel too good for this world I just wanna give him a little kiss and carry him around in my pocket and make sure no harm every comes to him (no I haven’t written anything for him yet but I been thinkin’ thots okay)

DIETER BRAVO. ✨the trash man✨ another one I just wanna carry around in my pocket, also the hair does things for me (same with Javi G) like just let me run my fingers through it and I’ll die a happy gal. questionable life choices maybe, but we’ve all been there, right?

OBERYN MARTELL. oh my HEART. *cue adele* we could have had it AAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLL. I would say spoilers but it was legitimately 8 years ago but he was so CLOSE and then so SQUISHED. tbh oberyn is the most intimidating to me to even think of writing but maybe someday….

MARCUS PIKE. I do really like Marcus. cheesy as hell? check. bit overboard sometimes? double check. BUT I really like the history of the character we got in limited scenes AND I have a fic idea for him I’ve been sitting on FOREVER and I def have to use it soon!

PERO TOVAR. okay I love me a grungy fantasy man okay like that’s my bread and butter. add in the grouchiness and the obvious way to his heart through his stomach? it’s go time, baby, I got plans for him too!

JACK DANIELS. oh darlin’, he hits the middle of my list for the sole reason that pedro and that whip awoken something in me that hasn’t shut up since I watched that movie and if you don’t think I’ve watched that clip where he pushes his jacket back and it’s a crystal-clear shot of his ass you are WRONG

EZRA PROSPECT. fits the grungy, violent thing pedro seems to work with half the time, and honestly, the linguistics of this man make my head spin (the main reason I haven’t written much for him because it’s a looooot of effort to try and think up dialogue for him!!!) BUT I do love that little moon-touched spot and the scar and the smile and just ugh yum

THE THIEF. full disclosure: I haven’t read a lot of fics about the thief (if anyone has recs let me at ‘em) buuuuuut I really like the whole vibe he has and the outfit? spectacular.

MARCUS MORENO. the glasses definitely do it for me but idk something about him I just…meh. have definitely read some fab fics about daddy moreno (maybe I’ll revisit him at some point). still hot, still delicious, just not my number one fav.

MAX PHILLIPS. maybe not the biggest asshole pedro’s played but definitely up there? I sat through the movie just for him, honestly the scene of him on the couch made it worth it and the smarminess is something else, but idk if I could ever write him! (kudos to all that do!)

DAVE YORK. ok ok ok ok OKAYYYYYYY. listen. he’s the baddie (and like a really bad baddie) so I gotta put him low on my list as far as attraction goes (plus I have mixed emotions about P without facial hair but I digress…) BUT I do have ideas. they are on the horizon. keep your eyes OPEN.

MAX LORD. I haven’t even watched wonder woman 1984 and I know he needs to be down here. maybe I’ll get some form of intoxicated this weekend and power through it, just for shits and giggles!

well KUDOS if you made it this far, this was actually so fun to do!

tagging a few pals just because, no pressure 😇

@prolix-yuy @pedropascalsx @mandoblowmybackout @mindidjarin @allfoolsinluv @iamskyereads and obvi anyone else who wants to play!!!

#pedro pascal #kay talks to people #mutual bbys #the ULTIMATE SHOWDOWN #pedro pascal characters

[flilisskywalker]

This is a Mandalorian season 3 finale rant (There might be cursing because I need to vent my frustrations)

Yeah, I really hated the season 3 finale of Mando. It’s the most boring, uninspired poorly directed, written and edited Star Wars in a fucking while. Easily the worst episode of Star Wars television as a fucking whole to me

what the fuck happened 

It's sad because I was enjoying this season, but holy shit, for a show that was always good because of its emotional beats, they sure missed a lot of them (Unless your name is Grogu, of course, ops. Din Grogu urghhhhhh).  It was so fucking emotionless and fucking anticlimatic.

I have to be honest

I don't care that much about Grogu. “But the show is about him.” He is not the main relationship that Din has in this season! That is Bo-Katan. It's ridiculous how these characters have grown close to each other since the Mines and the writer finds the most emotionless way to reunite them again and split them again and the director just doesn't extract fabulous performances of them as well and the editing just chooses the most uninspired shots. 

It fucking bothers me the most is that this show is so concerned with what's coming next that they are forgetting what makes Star Wars so fucking cool: The relationships. Bo-Katan and Din have been saving each other's asses, sharing different perspectives to each other, swearing loyalty and they don't even get a goodbye scene.

“Maybe because they are not saying goodbye.” 

BULLSHIT. 

It's like you get The Force Awakens with Rey and Finn becoming friends, but without the moment that solidifies the bond from Rey’s part, which is when she says: "We'll see each other again. I believe that. Thank you, my friend." Was it so difficult to have them aknowledging the journey they went through together before they went separate ways? I just don’t get it how you miss such a simple and obvious emotional beat like this. 

It doesn’t fucking stop there. Of course.

Bo-Katan does not seem happy at all when she lights up that Forge. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. I WONDER WHY. Could it because a fucking tin man who promised to serve her until her life was over is not fucking there? And people will say “You’re delusional.” No. This woman was flirting with him two episodes ago, she’s been looking at him since the Mines in a way that she does not look at any other Mandalorian (and you all can deny it however you want, but the way Katee is directed in those scenes just don’t lie) and they just make him go away. 

You fucking with me? You gotta be fucking with me. 

And you think that’s all? 

Hmm. Not really. 

Ragnar loses his father, who was also clearly the Armorer's favorite son and there’s no reaction, no aknowledgement of his death. Instead we got a whole "take the creed" scene, like, godamnit, have some fucking compassion for crying out loud. 

Moff Gideon destroying the darksaber is so awful. It doesn't work as a symbolism because he wanted that thing. It should've been Bo-Katan who destroyed it and that would pay off Din's line about the sword not being what determines who she is as a leader. 

Oh and Gideon dies, but not really because we know characters don’t really die in explosions in Star Wars and it’s so. fucking. ridiculous. What a moment this would be if this kill belonged to Bo-Katan. Because... I don’t know, the whole season is about her. 

*takes a deep breath* 

I fucking hated this episode. 

*takes another deep breath* 

Wake me up when Din and Bo are a duo again and they are allowed to have their romance. 

This finale was so not the fucking Way. 

Not even in Star Wars TV. Probably easily my most hated piece of a Star Wars media. “You are a Rise of Skywalker enjoyer.” I AM. Because you know, for all its flaws, at least that films understand emotional bits and this finale just doesn’t.

#the mandalorian #mando season 3 #dinbo #moff gideon #bo-katan kryze x din djarin #din djarin x bo-katan kryze #din x bo-katan #bo-katan x din #din x bo #bo x din #star wars #rant