Din Dijarin X Reader - Blog Posts

din & bo katan: *intense arguing and stare offs*

axe: *whispers* 10 credits says they’ll kiss

koska: we shouldn’t bet on that, that’s wrong

axe: …

koska: …

axe: …

koska: *whispers* 20 credits

just thinking about how in this scene din was probably thinking he might d!e and the only thing going through his head is how he’ll never see grogu again srry I just needed to feel something

still crying over how gently and politely din held her wrists (I am touch starved)

People I write for

Headcannons, imagines, x readers, bulbs, fluff and smut all accepted but I don’t write angst sorry my page is to bring joy not tears :) and I will make a master list later

Marvel

Bucky Barnes

Steve Rogers

+ there 1940s version because pre serum Steve will always have my heart

Peter Parker

Stucky x reader

Stony x reader

Leo fitz

Daniel sousa

+ all the actors

Harry Potter

Harry

Ron

Draco

Cedric

Fred

George

Bill

Charlie

Viktor krum

Remus

Sirius

Wolf star x reader

James

Remus x Sirius x James x reader

Albus potter

James Sirius potter

Teddy lupin

Louis weasley

Fred II

Hugo

Scorpius

Narnia

Peter

Caspian

Edmund

Starwars

Luke

Han

Poe

Kylo

Ben solo

Anakin

Obione

Din djarin

Merlin

Merlin

Arthur

Mordred

Percival

Lancelot

Gwaine

Riverdale

Archie

Jughead

Reggie

Fp

Other people

Ahkmenrah

Roger Taylor

Enoch O’Connor

Harry styles

im sure I have forgotten some people so please request and I will write for any character I know well, I don’t really write for characters I don’t know or like just because I don’t want to get them wrong for you guys but please request and have an awesome day - love C 🐾

Name || To drink wine under the stars

Pairing || Modern!Din Djarin X NB!Reader

Summary || A date Din and you planned takes a turn before taking another

Word Count || 1.334

Tags/Warnings || Idiots in love, Angst with a happy ending, No Use of Y/N, Modern!AU, Feelings!, Unestablished Relationships, Insecurities, Grogu Mentioned, Din is low-key (very much) a simp, Probably OOC Din, A bit of a rushed ending, No Beta We Die Like Men

A/N || I present a small piece of fiction made for Bouquets of Pedro Creativity Challenge by @happypedrohours

Based on this prompt: Din Djarin & late for a date

English is not my first language

If you find any grammar or spelling mistakes, let me know so I can fix them

Masterlist

Star Wars Masterlist (Not finished yet)

It's been such a long time since he's been to a place such as this. The restaurant was luxurious, maybe a bit too much in his opinion. The staff, the food, the decorations, it all screamed expensiveness.

His suit was probably even worse. It felt tight, unnatural. He wasn't used to wearing clothes other than completely regular. The best he could usually do was a white shirt with some pants, that was it. After all, why would he need anything else?

You. It was you. You were the reason he needed something else. You didn't force him, per se. He did it voluntarily. Grogu was still small and didn't care about how he looked but you? He wanted you to see him.

You were so special to him. Kind, funny, engaging, drop dead gorgeous. In the darkness that was his life, you were the moon illuminating his path. Guiding his way home.

Home to you.

At first, it surprised him when you agreed to the date. If he didn't know you, he would think it was a joke. A cruel mockery of how he, of all people, could think he had any chances with someone so divine. You meant it however. The smile on your face, the sparkle in your eye, it all proved your words.

Sitting at the table reserved for the two of you, he both loved and regretted he asked in the first place. What if you didn't like it there? What if he made a fool of himself? So many things could go wrong and wouldn't be able to stop any of them if it came down to it.

Knowing you though? You wouldn't care less about things that trivial. His mind flickered back to the memory of you.

You.

Sweet you.

The way you held his hand when he'd asked you out because it trembled so much. The way you listened so intently to what people had to say even when you felt unheard. The way you cared for Grogu as if he were your own and not your coworker's son.

Yeah, you'd understand.

Check the time.

Check the time.

Why weren't you there yet?

You were supposed to arrive at 7 PM. He arrived earlier of course. He didn't want you to wait in case he arrived later. And suddenly, he was the one waiting. It's been, what, 10, maybe 15 minutes?

Probably traffic, he told himself. He knew how it was these days. Everyone always rushed, as if unable to take a break. You were most likely in a taxi, trapped in a traffic jam.

Everything was fine.

It's been 30 minutes now. Where were you? It was getting frustrating. Especially when waiters came and went, always asking questions about his order. He wouldn't order. Not until you arrived.

He tapped the table, eyes fixated on the candle in the middle. The fire was so bright and yet, it couldn't compare to your smile. He'd kill to see it at least once. Just for a second, not even that. Even if it wasn't directed at him, even though he'd prefer if it were.

But no.

You weren't there.

He sent you so many messages, called a few times, all worried for your possible safety. What if you were in a car accident? Were you walking and someone decided to attack you? Did you hit your head when leaving your home? The possibilities were endless, every new one worse than the last.

He didn't seem to notice when an hour passed. Nor the second. He wouldn't dare look at the time, his attention constantly shifting between the building’s entrance and your completely untouched seat.

A sigh slipped past his lips when he finally forced himself to do so. It'd been over 2 hours. He couldn't wait any longer. He promised Grogu he wouldn't take too long, the kid needed him after all.

He hated it. The pitiful look the waitress gave him as he paid for the unexpectedly expensive wine he ordered, taking the unfinished bottle with him.

The February air chilled him more than he'd like, his hands freezing from the coldness of the bottle in his hand.

All the while, his mind struggled to come up with a reason for your absence. Maybe you were actually hurt? That was the only explanation that didn't make him question your lack of messages.

Or maybe you simply didn't like him and didn't know how to voice it.

Honestly, he wouldn't blame you. He didn't consider himself particularly likeable either. Messy, awkward, rugged and always tired. Why would you desire that?

The thought stung.

Was he really so bad that you, the kindest creature he'd ever met, couldn't accept him?

It was probably for the better.

“Din! Din wait!”

That voice. The voice so angelic that a part of his soul left his body any time he heard it suddenly called his name.

Turning his head towards where it came from, there you were. You weren't waving at him as you attempted to run, breathless with reddened cheeks from the cold.

You were a mess too to be honest. Dishevelled hair, slightly messy fancy clothes as if you barely managed to put it on properly along with loud gasps for air.

To him, you looked like a deity either way.

“I'm so, so sorry. I-I was tired from work and took a quick nap a-and I overslept the alarm and when I woke up it was already late,”

you rambled on and on about how sorry and ashamed you were for leaving him in the restaurant all alone, especially considering how expensive the reservation was. He didn't utter a word throughout the whole speech.

He didn't care if you noticed his silence. Or the tiny smile on his lips. Or the softness in his eyes. He was simply glad to see you, his day suddenly brighter than before.

And then, you fell silent. Your eyes stared up at him, searching for any sign of anger, of disappointment. There was none. Just pure unfiltered adoration.

“Don't worry. I'm just glad nothing bad happened to you,”

his words made your eyes widened, those twinkling in the soft light of city lamps. How beautiful, he thought. Then again, he thought that about every single thing you did.

His sharp gaze detected how the tension in you shoulders fell, a small sigh of relief escaping into the chilly weather.

“Could I make it up to you in some way?”

you were so kind. So desperate to make sure he wasn't disappointed, to make sure you kept your promise of joining him on a date that night.

He didn't need any persuasion.

Grogu was already dreaming away in his bed when Din joined you in the backyard of his home. You didn't notice him at first, making it the perfect opportunity to admire you.

There you were. In his garden. You were silent, staring up at the moon which felt like a shiny trinket compared to you. The soft smile on your lips as you snuggled into the blanket he lent you made his heart skipped a beat. A silent wish passed through his mind, a prayer of stopping the time so that he could worship you in his mind for eternity and more.

“There you are, I was getting worried,”

you smiled as you noticed his presence. He didn't reply as he sat down next to you, stealing part of the blanket and snuggling closer to you. You offered the wine but his mind was only on the brief brush of your hand against his. It all made his head spin.

When you rested your head on his shoulder though? He was afraid he'd faint. Or maybe cry.

You chose him. Nothing could convince him otherwise. And even if you didn't, he wouldn't mind.

He didn't need much to be happy after all. Even if it didn't last long, all he needed was to drink wine under the stars, right by your side.

Disclaimer:

I do not own The Mandalorian or any of its characters. The Mandalorian is the property of Jon Favreau and Disney. This fanfiction is written purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended for profit. Please support the original work!

My introduction!

This account is ACTIVE!

Yes I’m taking requests!

I am MULTI-FANDOM

*IF YOU DONT LIKE ANY OF THE THINGS THAT I MAKE, PLEASE LEAVE.*

————————————————————————

Hi, My name is Kitty! And I’m a fanfic writer. I’m in lots of fandoms so you’ll see things from all over! Though I’ll mostly post TOKIO HOTEL fanfics.

Some fun facts about me!

• I LOVE to read!

• I love to listen to music, it’s kinda my therapy😅

• I like to draw here and there.

• I love to read, so if you have any book recommendations please send!

• How I originally got into Tokio Hotel was b/c I saw a post about Tom while doom scrolling and I thought Tom was hot. But then I started to listen to their music and actually liked Tokio Hotel b/c of their music and not only b/c of Tom.

————————————————————————

Fandoms I write for

Tokio Hotel

Supernatural

Marvel/MCU(every part of it)

The Boys

Arcane

The Last of Us(show + game)

Game of Thrones + The House of Dragons

Star Wars

*I will write for these fandoms on my own accord and when I get requests for them*

————————————————————————

Fandoms I’ll occasionally or are open to write for

Harry Potter

Invincible

Avatar: The Last Air Bender

Narcos

The Maze Runner

The Outsiders

Call of Duty

Teen Wolf

Halo

Any other fandom that you want me to write for via request

*I will occasionally write for these on my own accord. I will mostly only write for them if they’re requested*

————————————————————————

Things I will write or are fine with writing

Fluff

Smut+lemon

Angst

Age gap(1-6yrs. 10yrs max. I will NOT go any higher unless requested. Even then I may not do it)

Au’s

Female and gn reader, sometimes male reader(I’m a girl and I’ve still yet to experiment w/ m!reader. I may never do smut w/ m!reader though I’m super open to anything else. I just need time to get used and comfortable with m!reader.)

Reader of any sexual orientation(I’m completely find w/ it. I’m gay myself)

Reader of any race and religion

I’m fine with doing dom and sub things/undertones

Ships! I’m completely fine with writing for these(just as long as they aren’t pedophilic or incest or anything weird)

Real people/celebrities(this will only be fluff and angst. I will NOT be doing smut. I feel uncomfortable doing that type of stuff knowing some of these people have whole ass family)

Writing horror/describing gore. I’m completely fine w/ it.

————————————————————————

Things I will NOT write under any circumstances

Incest of any kind(siblings, step-siblings or parents, bio parents, anything like that)

R@pe/non-con(this is disgusting. If the story somehow has r@pe in it, it’ll only be mentioned and if there would be a r@pe scene, it’ll only be mentioned)

Piss or shit kinks(self explanatory. The only body fluids that will be evolved in any way in any of my fics will either be spit/saliva, or cum. That’s it.)

Innocent!reader(this means that reader is so fucking innocent that reader doesn’t even know what a orgasm is. This lowkey pisses me off. Just not my type of thing.

Big age gaps(10yrs is the max I will go. I’ll only go over if requested, even then I may not do it)

Fics that deliberately are racist, sexist, homophobic, or bring down any sort of group of people. (By this I mean if a fic is requested and it’s very clear that the base line is any of these things, I will not do it.)

Romanticizing things like r@pe/non-con, stalking, kidnapping, being drugged, any of those things. (Honestly I’m so happy that people are realizing of bad this is and how many books have this in them and the amount of authors that do it. It’s genuinely disgusting. Like would you actually want that to happen to you IRL? I don’t.)

Underage things. Under no circumstances will I ever write underage.

Proships Lima self explanatory. (If you don’t know what a proship is it’s ship that’s considered “problematic” in a fandom. The ship can consist of incest, a problematic or worrying age gap, most of the time one of the people being a minor…, things like that.)

————————————————————————

Requests

Whenever you wanna request anything it’s totally okay to go into detail. Honestly I kinda want you to so you’ll like the fic(:

Requests will take about 3-7 days to finish as I have many other things going on in life and I can’t fully dedicate all of my time to fics.(I’m also a major procrastonator….😬)

Pedro Pascal Characters

Main Rec Masterlist

The Mandalorian

Narcos

Triple Frontier

WW84

Kingsman 2

Game of Thrones

The Mentalist

Prospect

The Great Wall

HUMAN

“𝗙𝗼𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗰𝗼𝗰𝗸𝘆, 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗯𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗷𝗲𝗿𝗸…𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝘀𝘁.”

        “𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗰𝗸-𝘂𝗽, 𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗽𝘀𝘆𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗵…𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗯𝗮𝗱 𝗲𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿.”

      Myrah Koor was a mystery. She worked alone and she worked hard. For a while, she was the best bounty hunter the Guild had ever seen. At least, until a certain Mandalorian came along.       After a small hostage situation, the two team up to find the bounty of a lifetime… twice.       Traveling the galaxy, the unlikely pair takes down enemies, saves the day, and makes a few friends along the way.

𝗗𝗶𝗻 𝗗𝗷𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻/𝗠𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝘅 𝗢𝗖 𝗔 (𝘀𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗳) 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆

          I am not in association with Disney or Lucas Films. The only thing I have the rights to are my characters and their stories. There may be some alterations here and there, but overall, this follows the general plot to the first season of Disney’s, The Mandalorian.

          As always, I would love to hear comments and recommendations. Your guys’ opinions make my day (and my writing) better.

          Enjoy Human! :)

𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲 | 𝗼𝗻𝗲 | 𝘁𝘄𝗼 | 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 | 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿 | 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲 | 𝘀𝗶𝘅 | 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 | 𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 | 𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗲 | 𝘁𝗲𝗻 | 𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲 | 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 | 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 | 𝗳𝗶𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 | 𝘀𝗶𝘅𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 | 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 | 𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 | 𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝗼𝗻𝗲 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝘁𝘄𝗼 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝘀𝗶𝘅 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 | 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗲 | 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 | 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆-𝗼𝗻𝗲 | 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆-𝘁𝘄𝗼 | 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆-𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 | 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆-𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿 | 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆-𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲 | 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆-𝘀𝗶𝘅 |

Stay Safe Part One: Should Have Known Better

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Hello everyone, and welcome to my latest indulgence. This tale will run parallel to the show, picking up between episode three [The Sin] and episode four [Sanctuary], so spoiler warnings for all portions!

Our story begins a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…on Nevarro, to be specific. Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @helplessly-nonstop @huliabitch @culturalrebel

[And here is the playlist for this (now completed) series! Be warned that this post does contain spoilers for all chapters of Stay Safe, so if you would rather just have the playlist without additional exposition or breakdown, you can find it here!]

Keep reading

The Mandalorian - Fic Recommendations

Main Rec Masterlist

@oloreaa

orbit: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 -> Mando and you have a cuddle arrangement

Vencuyanir -> Elana only has two objectives when she is taken away from Arvala-7: keeping Bean alive and getting away from the Mandalorian

@dindjarindiaries

Masterlist

Security -> An ex-princess forced to hide and fight for your life, you’re now on the run with a Mandalorian and a foundling, trying to protect the three of you from the threat of death that creeps around every corner accompanied by a tracking fob.

@the-last-airblender

Run -> While the Razor Crest is being repaired on the planet of Duugan, someone offers the Mandalorian a job

@unstoppableforcce

waves crash. ships don’t -> there’s a storm. on the small planet, out further than the trio ever imagined the outer rim stretched, it seemed there was always a storm. the lightning strikes. the waves crash. he collapses to stop in your home, given no choice but to be met with the onslaught of memories, of you, of your perfect smile, of everything you were before he left. the waves crash. he wonders when you last smiled. he wonders if it’s all his fault…

@hdlynnslibrary

Dusty Trails AU -> US Marshal!Din Djarin

@writings-of-a-hufflepuff

Putting Down Roots -> Alternate Universe with Din Djarin and the reader who’s the local school teacher. Din starts as a bounty hunter but becomes the Sheriff of your small town since no one else will take up the job.

@auty-ren

The Offer -> You find yourself making an unexpected friend who repays a debt to you. After being welcomed into their home and settling into a new life among Mandalorians, you catch the eye of one of the beskar wearing warriors. A man renowned for his leadership and capability, shows you a gentler side of the warrior race and offers you something unexpected.

@mandolovian -> Masterlist

All of This -> He stretched his hand against the inside of your wrist, scratching gently at the soft skin there, pressing against your pulse and huffing out a breath when he registered just how fast it is.

@forever-rogue

step into daylight -> on the run for your life, you’re finally tracked down by one of the most fearsome bounty hunters in the galaxy - the Mandalorian. Expecting him to end your life then and there, you’re surprised when he spares your life and takes you in and nurses you back to health. You’re even more surprised when you meet his small green son and eventually discover that you have much more in common with the tiny creature than you could have imagined…

@sunshinepascal

Permanent -> holding Din's hand in public leads to more (NSFW)

@mandobls -> Masterlist

@absurdthirst -> Masterlist

@bestintheparsec

Healer -> You’re medically trained and meet the Mandalorian by chance. Over time, you become more than just a crew member.

@concussed-to-pieces

stay safe -> Our story begins a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…on Nevarro, to be specific.

@jabbajambler

Human -> Myrah Koor was a mystery. She worked alone and she worked hard. For a while, she was the best bounty hunter the Guild had ever seen. At least, until a certain Mandalorian came along. After a small hostage situation, the two team up to find the bounty of a lifetime… twice. Traveling the galaxy, the unlikely pair takes down enemies, saves the day, and makes a few friends along the way.

Powerless (sequel to Human) -> Over the months spent on the populated planet of Coruscant, Myrah Koor has focused on her abilities, trained in the temple ruins, and polished her young niece’s abilities. Yet something still isn’t right. When the Mandalorian, Din Djarin, struggles to locate others of his kind, he is left with no other choice but to recruit his old partner. Through (many) arguments, encounters with family friends, and a few mishaps, the two just might be able to return the Child to the Jedi and rekindle a lost friendship.

@vercopaanir

The Lovely moon series -> As an indentured servant, you never thought you'd make it out of town, much less off-world. You don't really need your vision to see a priceless opportunity when a Mandalorian presents it to you, though.

@frannyzooey -> masterlist

Take me to church part 1 -> Set in a brothel in the late 1800’s in the Wild West; you’ve only been working there for a month when Din Djarin shows up. A bounty hunter who makes stops into town between jobs, he is known at the inn for his generous appetite and demanding preferences. Asking for you one night, he is pleased to learn you are well suited for him: your sweet nature soothing to his gruff temperament and surprising him with your ability to handle his rougher tastes. Demanding that you be made available to him every time he is in town, neither one of you is ready for where this request leads.

@ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa

Of constellations and creeds -> Everyone loves the Alpha and Omega Fated Mates for Life troupe so, what if The Mandalorians were a society of Alphas, a dying race because your sisterhood of Omegas are becoming more and more rare by the day? You and Din were mated before you were born, your futures written in the stars–and that pissed you off, both of you. At least in the beginning.

@syndxlla

More to love -> Marrying Prince Korkie would be your inevitable doom to a life of tea parties and being seen and not heard, why should you agree to that when you’re worth so much more?

@mandoinevarro

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker Series -> It's been six months since you last saw the Mandalorian. Five since he escaped the siege that he caused, since he left you stranded in Nevarro with nothing but a grudge and your memories with him to warm you at night. You're not angry. He was only a costumer in your store, this is fine. It's completely fine. But then one day he decides to show his beskar face in Nevarro again, and maybe. Maybe it's not fine after all.

@tiffdawg

The Light of Stars -> In pursuit of the Child’s people, the mysterious Jedi, Din Djarin and his foundling find hope in a woman who shares the kid’s strange powers. Newly partnered with the Mandalorian, you are trained in the ways of the Force, but you’re no Jedi. You’re just trying to find your place in the galaxy.

@wille-zarr

In Fields of White part 1 -> fleeing from the life you wish more than anything to forget, you are left to navigate the galaxy alone as a wide-eyed wanderer. in the process of evading the dangers linked to your previous life, your destiny is forever altered when you cross paths with an intimidating mandalorian and his unusually gifted child.

@light-yaers

no saints -> Working on Nevarro hadn’t offered you much in the way of human contact; that all changes when an unlikely deal is struck between you and the Mandalorian.

Fan Fic Masterlist

All These are of fan fics that I like

Pedro Pascal Characters

Peaky Blinders

Harry Potter

Stranger Things

Loki

House of The Dragon

Unrestrained

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: Explicit, 18+ Word Count: 8k Warnings: sex pollen and therefore DUB CON, use of restraints, dirty talk, descriptions of previous injuries/blood/violence, masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral (m and f receiving), RIMMING (f receiving) Summary: When Mando is drugged on a job, he begs you to restrain him because he knows he won’t be able to keep his hands off you—but the restraints don't hold. Notes: Thank you to the anon that suggested this alternate version of Unfettered!

Masterlist

You were sitting on a crate in the hull, cleaning your disassembled blaster when the ramp jolted and started to lower with a mechanical whir. You knew it was Mando returning from his solo job—the nav had beeped a little bit ago to announce that he was in range—so you didn’t bother looking up from your task when he strode into the ship.

He slapped the control on the wall and kept his hand pressed firmly to the panel, frozen in place, as the ramp closed slowly. You caught the limited movement in your periphery while you worked, thinking vaguely that he must be exhausted.

“How’d it go?” you asked, rubbing an oily rag along the barrel of your blaster.

Mando didn’t respond. No sigh, no grunt. Nothing.

That grabbed your attention. Mando was never talkative, often relying on one-word rejoinders, but he always answered direct questions, especially from you. Lately, he was even initiating conversations during the long stints in hyperspace between one bounty and the next.

You looked up and were surprised to see that there was no quarry in sight—it was just Mando standing at the far end of the hull, his gloved hand still pressed to the control panel like he couldn’t bring himself to move. He looked… agitated. You could read the tension in his body; the fist hanging by his side was clenched, and his shoulders were drawn up.

“Mando?” you asked, the confusion apparent in your voice, as you set your blaster down and got to your feet.

“No,” he gritted. Without moving from his position, he whipped his head around and held up a palm to halt your advance. “Don’t… Don’t come any closer.”

“What—?”

He pointed a threatening finger at your chest. “Stay. There.”

You were so shocked by his unexpected command that you obeyed, staying rooted to the spot.

That’s when you really took in his appearance: he was shaking, the hand pointed at your chest trembling slightly. His armor was dirty—smeared with what was unmistakably blood—and his cape had a new ragged tear up the side. His chest was heaving as if breathing alone was a herculean effort.

When he saw that you were listening to him, he nodded stiffly and wrenched his hand away from the wall. Then, with leaden steps, he walked over to a large storage crate and dragged it into the middle of the floor. Each of his mechanical movements looked like it required every ounce of his control to execute.

“Why—?”

He grunted, ignoring your question again. You watched in stunned silence as he stripped off all of his weapons, even his vambraces and spare ammo, with stunted, jerky motions and dropped them into an unceremonious pile on the floor next to him. Mando usually spent hours caring for those weapons, so it was jarring to see them discarded carelessly like that.

He crouched and ripped the lid off the crate, letting it clatter to the floor. He rooted around, and when he straightened a moment later, he was holding chains—thick, hefty chains with menacingly large iron links—in his gloved hands. You watched in confusion as he set down the heavy tangle on the floor with a clank and hunted through the strands until he located the ankle restraints. He extracted them and began to fasten them around his own ankles, one at a time. Your jaw dropped.

“Mando, what the fuck are you doing?”

He whipped his helmet up to look at you and commanded: “Help me with this.”

You scrunched your eyebrows together: “Why?”

“Just do it.”

“I’m not going to chain—”

Before you could even finish your sentence, he snarled: “Just shut up and fucking help me.”

You stood there, dumbstruck, and cycled through several emotions in rapid succession. Your initial shock was immediately replaced by irritation as you registered his rude words. Anger flickered brightly across your consciousness, but it was quickly supplanted by confusion: he had never spoken to you in that tone of voice, let alone told you to shut up. Finally, fear settled in, thick and weighty, like a fog threatening to choke you.

You approached him slowly, kneeling on the other side of the tangle of chains.

“What happened to you?” you asked gently, reaching out to touch his arm.

He jerked away immediately, so quickly that he almost lost his balance. He thrust out an arm to steady himself on the wall behind him.

“Don’t—don’t touch me. Please.” His voice was suddenly small, almost quavering.

Your heart rate kicked up again.

“Mando, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s going on.”

He looked up at you, voice slightly softer but still firm and urgent. “Help me with this, then I’ll explain.”

You stared at him.

“Please,” he repeated—beseechingly.

He was begging you. That was when the real fear sank in.

Without another word, you helped him get the wrist cuffs in place. Then, standing beside him, you followed his directions as he instructed you to secure the ends of the four chains: two to bolts on the wall, and two to bolts on the floor. The two on the wall were affixed to his arm restraints, the two on the floor to his ankles. Initially, you left slack in the chains, plenty of room for him to move, but he insisted that you tighten them enough so that his back was almost flush to the wall and he couldn’t extend his hands out any further than the natural reach of his long arms.

He sighed, shoulders slumping in relief, when you clicked the last restraint in place.

You looked up at him. Mando was strung up against the wall of his ship, arms hanging by his sides, suspended about a foot away from his body, and his legs were splayed slightly in a wide stance, boots a couple feet apart.

It was quite a sight.

If you weren’t so worried about what was happening, you’d definitely be having some… ideas. They were completely inappropriate ideas, especially considering the stark reality that the two of you were nothing more than hunting partners.

“Th-thank you,” he breathed. “Now, p-please, step away from me.”

You reluctantly complied, taking several careful steps backward, keeping your gaze trained on his visor.

“Okay, I did what you asked. Now tell me what happened.”

His breathing was still labored. “H-hit with a bio-dart, aphrodisiac drug. Strong… Heard of them before, but never encountered one until now.”

You gave him a skeptical look, raising one eyebrow. “An aphrodisiac drug as a weapon? I thought that was a myth.”

“Apparently not.”

You surveyed him again as the reality of the situation washed over you.

He continued, words spilling out of his mouth in a rush like he was running out of time to explain: “H-had to get back to the ship. Didn’t trust myself. Left the body there. I’ll go back for it later. No-no time to bring it back. I had-had to—before I—”

His whole body tensed suddenly, cutting off his own sentence, and he threw his head back as an ugly sound tore from his chest.

You stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Fuck, are you okay? Does it hurt?”

You panicked, desperately trying to think of some way to help him as he flailed.

He writhed for another moment then thankfully stilled, slowly raising his head to look at you. He sounded wrecked when he spoke again: “No, no. It doesn’t hurt, not exactly. Not yet at least. It’s—it feels like…” He trailed off, glancing toward the floor.

You prompted him: “Like what?”

Before he could answer you, another wave wracked through him, and he thrashed against the restraints. You fought the urge to cross the space and soothe him. Even in the most stressful, life-threatening situations, Mando was always the picture of composure: calm, collected, calculating. So, it was unnerving to see him like this—overcome and out of control. You were itching to touch him, to ease his discomfort somehow. After another moment, he stilled.

When his visor found your face again, he rasped: “It feels like if I don’t fuck you right now, I’m going to die.”

His words hit you like a slap in the face. You swallowed hard, staring at him… all thoughts suddenly gone, mind completely blank.

He filled the fraught silence, straining forward slightly, his voice dipping an octave: “I want to fuck you so badly, baby.”

Your heart dropped at the unexpected pet name, a wave of wetness unapologetically gathering between your thighs.

Fuck. This was not at all the situation you had imagined—Mando drugged and chained up—but you had definitely dreamt of him saying some version of those words to you… on a regular basis, like maybe every night you ever spent with him on the Razor Crest.

He spoke again, trembling as he said: “This is fucking torture, you standing there, looking like that. And I can’t even fucking touch you. Shit. Shit. Shit. I want to—I want to touch you.”

Without your explicit permission, your feet moved you one step forward.

Mando shook his head back and forth violently, helmet jerking like he was trying to clear unwelcome thoughts by sheer force. “Dank ferrik, this is really fucking with my head. I’m-I’m sorry—I’m not myself.”

Only one question came to mind, one thing you were desperate to know.

“So…it’s just the drug?”

You waited, holding your breath, hoping he knew exactly what you were asking him.

He snapped his helmet up, meeting your gaze. He sounded surprisingly sober for a moment. “No. It’s not,” he stated bluntly. “I always want to fuck you. It’s just now I… I can’t control that urge.”

Suddenly, the drafty hull felt hot, suffocatingly so. You inched forward again.

His confession flooded you with courage. “What if… what if I want you to fuck me?”

Mando whined, body convulsing, shoulders collapsing forward as far as they could against his arm restraints. You were so shocked by the foreign sound that you actually took a step back—you’d never, ever heard him make a noise remotely close to that. You’d cauterized gaping wounds for him, removed a jagged blade from deep in his thigh, witnessed him take a blaster bolt to the side, sutured countless lacerations with no local anesthetic… but you’d never heard him whine. It was high and needy, desperate and pathetic as it grated through his modulator.

“Don’t-don’t say that, please… don’t fucking say that to me right now… I c-can’t handle it.”

The chains creaked ominously, the links clanking together as he shifted against them.

“But, I mean it. I always want you to fuck me,” you continued, ignoring Mando’s feeble requests.

You squeaked and flinched back again when Mando suddenly lunged forward, hands gripping the chains and pulling hard. His arms and legs were immediately wrenched back, his beskar-clad torso straining toward you. He panted: “Gods, you don’t know how long I’ve dreamt of you saying-saying that to me, mesh’la.”

Even through his visor, his stare was scalding, his gaze scorching your skin as he surveyed you, helmet trailing all the way down and back up your body.

You stepped toward him.

He jerked his head to the side suddenly, tearing his gaze away, and whined again—more quietly this time, more resigned. When he said the next words, you could hear how tightly his jaw was set: “Not like this. I-I won’t fuck you for the first time like this. I-I won’t forgive myself if I hurt you.”

You took another, much larger step forward.

“You won’t hurt me.”

He whipped his helmet up to watch you again. His voice was dangerous now, menacing, as he growled: “Yes, yes—I will. You don’t understand what this feels like. I can’t control myself—it’s a fucking miracle I didn’t take you the moment I walked back onto the ship and saw you sitting there—so kriffing gorgeous—and it’s only gotten worse.” He let out another frustrated growl, then continued: “I don’t just want to fuck you, I want to wreck you, I want-want to wreck you until you can’t walk and then fuck you again. I want to tear you apart. Ruin you with my cock.”

He said those words like a threat, but you couldn’t help the way they sent heat coursing through your veins, a shiver down your spine. You stepped toward him one more time. You were almost within his reach.

“DON’T,” he ordered, voice deadly serious. “Really, I can’t control myself. S-stay back.”

Even as he told you to stay away, he reached a hand out for you, legs and arms straining forward, trying to get closer to you. His mouth was saying one thing, his body begging for another.

You stayed where you were, just out of his reach, and asked: “How long will this last?”

“I don’t know… I hope no longer than a few hours. It’s already been at least an hour since I got hit. But it’s-it’s gotten worse.”

You could hear the exhaustion and exertion in his voice. He was barely holding it together, and you knew you needed to do whatever you could to make this easier on him, not harder. So, you shoved down your own selfish desire and with great reluctance, stepped away from him. You sat back down on the crate across from him and said, “Then, I guess… we’ll wait it out.”

He nodded vaguely, leaning against the wall behind him with a loud sigh.

You sat in uncomfortable silence for several long minutes. You busied yourself by reassembling your blaster. Every so often, the restraints jangled loudly when Mando was wracked by a brutal surge of need and struggled violently. You tried your best not to flinch every time it happened.

Eventually, he disrupted the silence by saying your name.

Before you even looked up at him, though, you knew—you knew that Mando was gone.

His voice had dropped several octaves, and it sounded different… honeyed, charming, drawling, depraved. It was fucking sultry. When you looked up at him, you immediately noticed his body language. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what exactly had changed, but something about him was off.

All you knew was that, suddenly, a dangerous stranger was standing across the hull from you. For the first time, you were truly grateful for those thick fucking chains.

His voice was smooth and calm when he said: “I need your help, sweetheart.”

You looked away from him, studying the silver sheen of the blaster in your hand instead. The way he rasped the word sweetheart would be burned into your brain for the rest of your life. It made your whole body feel hot.

“Come over here, beautiful,” he coaxed. “I’ve wanted you for so long, and now I know you want me too—you can’t hide from me anymore, princess.”

Princess. You didn’t answer. You just sat in silence and shrieked internally.

He said your name again—this time more urgently—then abruptly changed his tack: “Maker, this hurts so much now, it burns—I need you to make it stop hurting. Be a good girl and help me.”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek and shifted on the crate, pressing your thighs together.

When you didn’t respond, he tested a third approach, his voice pitching low and sensual: “Please, cyar’ika, don’t you want me? I’m so fucking hard for you right now. I’ll make you feel so, so good, make you cum again and again. Just-just let me touch you. Let me show you.”

You stayed quiet, trying to remember how to breathe. He was playing all the angles—appealing to your conscience and your libido. The second strategy was harder to ignore.

“Come here and feel how hard I am for you.”

Fuck.

His voice was pure sin, purring and growling for you. He was fucking luring you in with it, and he seemed to know it. He said your name one more time, and your resolve cracked a little.

You looked up at him, setting your blaster down beside you.

Mando seemed encouraged by the eye contact, trying one last tactic. He cocked his helmet and rasped, “Are you wet for me?”

Your eyes widened, but you somehow managed to keep your lips pressed together.

Yes.

He continued as if you’d answered aloud, as if he already knew you were: “Show me.”

You stared at him, unmoving.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he nodded down at your lap, his voice suddenly much lighter, as if he was thrilled to have identified this loophole. “You don’t even have to touch me. You can keep your clothes on. It’s completely safe—just-just touch yourself for me...and I’ll tell you all the things I’ve imagined doing to your body.”

Sweet fucking hell.

Every part of you was screaming to listen to him. You wanted this. You wanted this just as much as he needed it.

“Please,” he whined, rolling his head to the side as if the thought alone made him burn.

“I don’t know—”

He fixed his visor on your face again. “I need—I need this, mesh’la. And so do you. It’ll help. I know it will. Don’t you want to help me? And don’t you deserve to feel good?”

Fuck… yes.

And he was right after all: what was the risk? It would be completely safe. He was shackled to the wall for fuck's sake.

You nodded dazedly, fairly sure this was somehow still a bad idea but struggling to find the will to care.

Mando was thrilled. “Fuck, yes, go on,” he encouraged, straining forward against the chains. “Feel your pussy for me.”

You surrendered to the rasping command of his voice immediately: you scooted back on the crate to lean against the wall, your legs crossed and knees open, and slid a hand under your waistband. Mando’s helmet followed your movements like his life depended on it. You could hear the staticky pull of his labored breath through the modulator. When your fingers found your clit and you whimpered and looked up at him, he let out a stuttering groan—a filthy, orgasmic sound that echoed through the hull.

“That’s right, show me how wet you are.”

Before you had the chance to think too hard about what you were doing, you swiped your fingers through your soaked folds and extracted your hand carefully, holding it out in front of you, so Mando could see—even across the hull—how your fingertips glistened wetly under the lights. He surged forward at the sight, the chains creaking threateningly, and hummed deep in his chest.

“Mmmmm,” he purred, slumping back against the wall. “I can’t wait to taste you. Make yourself cum for me now, and later, I’ll taste you and make you cum again. And again.”

You shoved your hand back into your pants and shuddered when you started rubbing slow circles over your clit, your eyes fixed on the hungry void of Mando’s visor. He wrapped his gloved fingers around the thick chains and clenched his fists tight. Every single muscle in his body seemed taut, his spine perfectly rigid as he leaned forward again to watch.

He quirked his helmet to the side suggestively and spoke softly while you touched yourself, painting you a picture: “Later, when you let me down from here, I’m going to take my time with you. I’m going to strip you bare and put a blindfold over your eyes, so I can kiss every inch of your body. I’m going to drag my tongue through your wet cunt and suck your clit until you come apart for me.”

The links squeaked as Mando shifted, slowly struggling further and further forward.

“I’m going to make you cum on my tongue so hard it hurts, and then I’m going to kiss it better.”

You whimpered, your fingers feeling like an inadequate replacement for his mouth, but his words were making up the difference. He was shoving you towards a climax without even touching you.

“Are you going to let me fuck you after I make you cum on my tongue?”

You nodded, too overwhelmed to scrape together a verbal reply, your fingers slipping wetly over the peak of your throbbing clit.

“Good... because I’ve thought about fucking you on every surface of this ship, beautiful. I’ve made myself cum thinking about bending you over the exact crate you’re sitting on right now and making you take my cock from behind. I’ve imagined fucking you up against the ladder with your legs wrapped around my waist. And whenever we’re in the cockpit together, I always think about pulling you onto my lap and letting you ride me right there in the pilot’s seat.”

You whined and squeezed your eyes shut, all those images too much to take. You moved your fingers faster, and you could feel Mando’s restraint slipping the closer you got to orgasm.

“Yes, just like that—I need it,” he panted. “I need you. Look at me when you cum.”

Your eyes snapped open at that, and you saw that he was actively fighting his way forward now, pulling until all four of the chains were taut, his boots slipping over the metal floor, his voice getting louder and louder as he talked you through it.

“I want—I want to see it. Cum for me.”

You were so close—your head lolling back against the wall, your eyes falling closed as your body started to tense—when an angry metallic whine and the pattering of several small objects hitting the floor made you freeze and snap your eyes open. Your hand was still shoved down the front of your pants, your fingers paused against your clit, as you watched the durasteel panel that Mando’s right wrist restraint was fastened to began to peel away from the framework of the ship, several of the bolts already missing.

The piercing sound seemed to jolt Mando out of his drugged haze. As you watched, he seemed to turn back into himself again. He stepped back against the wall, putting as much distance as he could between the two of you.

“Run.”

You withdrew your hand in a quick motion. “But I—”

“Do it,” he growled, his chest heaving. “Now. The cockpit. Lock the doors behind you—the manual emergency lock, so I can’t override it.”

You stayed rooted to the spot, trying to work through a storm of conflicting emotions in the space of a second. You didn’t really want to run; you wanted to stay, you wanted to cum, you wanted to help him. You wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt himself breaking out of those restraints.

Mostly, you wanted him to fuck you.

“Go.”

Even as he ordered you to leave, Mando grasped and yanked the chain connected to the loose panel, twisting his torso and leaning forward to make full use of his body weight. The durasteel barely put up a fight. It fell away from the wall almost immediately, crashing to the floor.

In the tense silence that followed, Mando lifted his head to look at you.

In a ferocious voice you didn’t recognize, he roared, “RUN.”

Adrenaline seemed to take over then. You jumped to your feet and hauled yourself up the ladder as fast as you could, flinging yourself into the cockpit and slamming your palm against the control panel to shut the heavy doors behind you. You forced the manual lock into place with a satisfying click, then with your back against the cold metal of the doors, you slid to the floor.

You waited there, taking deep breaths to calm your pounding heart, and looked around the dimly lit cockpit. Some buttons flashed on the console, and a smattering of muted stars was visible through the viewport over the pointed tops of the trees. You could hear Mando’s ongoing struggle down in the hull: a series of grunts, bellowed curses, loud metallic scrapes and whines.

After several minutes, there was one final crash, and a victorious roar rang through the ship. Then, silence fell.

He was free.

Some combination of relief and excitement overwhelmed you, sending a heady cocktail of adrenaline and desire skittering through your veins. You waited with baited breath, every inch of your skin tingling with exhilaration. He was coming for you.

For you.

A fresh surge of arousal flooded your core, your eyes falling closed as you rested your head against the doors.

After all the time you’d spent pining for him, after all those hours you’d watched his big hands work expertly over the console, after all days you’d admired the obscenely wide spread of his shoulders, after so many nights of sleeping feet away from him, your skin on fire just thinking about him… he was finally coming for you.

And now you knew the truth: all those times you’d thought about him, he’d been thinking about you too.

Some rude, insistent voice decided to remind you then that no matter how much you wanted to—fuck, you wanted to—you couldn’t let him in. He didn’t want you to.

No, that wasn’t right. He thought he shouldn’t. That was completely different.

He definitely wanted you to let him in. He'd wanted to fuck you long before the bio-dart. And that’s what mattered, wasn’t it?

The quietest sound—the unmistakable scrape of a boot over metal—made you snap your head up, your eyes wide. He was on the other side of the doors. Every nerve in your body seemed to be on high alert, positively humming at his closeness. You were separated by only a few inches of metal.

“Sweetheart.”

Your pussy clenched at that one word.

“Open the doors,” he murmured, his voice all silk and solace.

You could hear subtle movement on the other side of the doors, the hollow clank of his helmet as he rested his head against the heavy metal.

“Don’t you want me?”

Yes.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to keep the word from bursting out of you. There was an answering smack and a sudden reverberation against your back, and you knew Mando had slammed his clenched fist against the outside of the doors. Your silence was killing him.

“The drugs have plateaued. I promise you: I’m not gonna hurt you. I’ll make you feel good—so good—I swear. Open these doors, and I’ll show you.”

You were fully aware that it would be absolutely absurd to trust him in this moment. It made no sense whatsoever to take him at his word.

And yet.

“I’ll turn these lights off, and I’ll take my helmet off, so I can taste you—so I can taste every part of you,” he purred. “Don’t you want that?”

YES.

Suddenly, every light on the console was extinguished, and the viewport blackened, the glass becoming completely opaque, until the cockpit was bathed in total darkness. Mando was a man of his word after all.

You were left in the pitch black, thinking about Mando taking off his helmet—taking it off for one single purpose. The thought of his mouth threatened to sink you: the heat of it on your neck, on your lips, on your cunt… all over you. It threatened to erase every trace of logic or restraint that had ever resided in your brain. It dragged over every part of you, promising care and pleasure and him. It was overwhelming enough to spur you to your feet. Before you knew it, you were standing, your hand on the manual release for the doors.

As if he somehow knew, as if he could read your mind, Mando spoke then.

“I’m ready when you are,” came the rasping whisper from the other side of the doors.

Your heartbeat seemed to crescendo as you released the lock on the doors and instinctively scampered backward as they creaked open. You expected Mando to rush inside, to flip the lights back on, to be on you right away.

Instead, silence endured in the pitch black darkness. Thanks to his helmet, you knew he could see you perfectly; you, on the other hand, had no idea where he was. Your heartbeat ratcheted up impossibly higher, a spastic staccato against your ribcage. Your voice seemed to catch in your throat, unable to express any of the questions that were rattling at your consciousness.

What was he waiting for? How did this massive man covered in metal move so quietly through a metal ship? Shouldn’t he fucking clank at the very least?

Finally, the faintest rasp of a leather sole on the floor gave him away. He was silently making his way into the cockpit.

After all that build up, all that waiting, he was toying with you.

The audacity.

Well, fuck, if he wanted to play games, you were more than happy to oblige.

You could see nothing in the oppressive gloom, but you could feel him getting closer to you. Some innate, long-dormant prey instinct seemed to awaken in you then, and you backed further into the cockpit. You paused, braced against the console. When every single hair on the back of your neck stood at attention, and you felt certain he was closing in, you took a risk.

You sprinted past him, and Mando roared.

You dodged his grasping hands, feeling the faintest brush of leather on your arm as you slipped around him and threw yourself out of the cockpit, slapping the door control as you went. The doors clanged shut behind you, cutting off Mando’s frustrated grunt, and you barrelled forward, hoping your memory of the layout of the Crest was good enough to serve you in complete darkness. Your hands found the top of the ladder blindly, and you managed to get your feet onto the first rung without plummeting straight down into the hull. You climbed down as fast as you could, knowing the closed doors would buy you mere seconds.

Just as you dropped down onto the floor of the hull, you heard the doors slide open again. You scurried to the far end of the ship and slipped behind a stack of crates. You weren’t even really sure why you were still evading him. Hiding was pointless when he had the advantage of his helmet, but if he insisted on playing, you weren’t going to be the one to surrender first.

A grunt and a thud announced his arrival—then, nothing.

For several long moments, he let your blood pressure tick ever upward.

But eventually, the slightest creak of metal gave him away again. He was close—somewhere off to your right. You edged to the left, certain that you had a vague idea of where he was. You backed up slowly, relieved when you bumped against the solid metal of the wall.

You waited there, straining to hear the tiniest movement.

Nothing. Silence—heavy, oppressive silence blanketed the ship, making it hard to breathe. You couldn’t make out a single sound in the darkness, and the sheer anticipation was starting to make you sweat. Mando must be frozen too, somewhere out there in the gloom, waiting for you to make a move.

Was he even breathing?

Your stubbornness was quickly giving way to horniness. Your determination to outlast him deteriorated, and you opened your mouth to call out to him.

Instead, you let out a scream of terror when the metal behind you shifted, but the shriek was immediately muffled when a large, gloved hand clamped firmly over your mouth. Mando wrapped his other arm around your middle, pulling you completely back against him. You whimpered against the tight clutch of worn leather, the heady smell of blaster residue invading your senses, your heart threatening to burst from your chest.

The metal of his helmet was cold against your ear when he whispered, “It’s just me, sweetheart.”

You let out a quiet, needy whine in response, the icy fear in your veins melting into something warmer, something thicker. You tipped your head back, resting it against his cold, armored shoulder and ground your hips against him in silent invitation. He purred through the modulator, and he rolled his hips once against your ass in response. The temporary hot, tight press of his hard cock against you made you moan into his hand.

“Are we done playing, love? You want me to fuck you now?”

He lifted his hand away from your mouth just long enough for you to gasp, “Yes, please.”

His gloved fingers closed over your lips once more, and he kept you there, fitted tightly against his chest.

“You gonna take my cock like a good girl?”

As he spoke, he rolled his hips against you again, and you nodded frantically against his hand.

Approval rumbled through his chest—you felt the satisfied reverberation against your back as much as you heard it. The arm that was curled around your middle like an unyielding iron bar loosened then, and that hand wandered down your body, the leather of his glove dragging over your shirt—slow, weighty, distracting. You whined in disappointment, writhing weakly against him, when it didn’t dip under your waistband, instead continuing its path over your pants until it settled at the apex of your thighs. You parted your legs reflexively, and he shoved his thick fingers between them.

He stopped there, his palm cupped over your clothed cunt, his fingers poised so fucking close to where you were throbbing for him, unmoving.

A threat. A promise.

“Then beg for it.”

You involuntarily clenched your thighs together around his hand, unintentionally increasing the pressure on your aching clit, and your jaw dropped open just as the hand over your mouth disappeared again. The words spilled from your lips before you even knew what you were saying.

“Please, Mando, I want it—I need your co—”

You were cut off by your own surprised squeak when you heard the pneumatic release of his helmet so close to your ear. You held your breath—stunned into complete silence—as you felt him maneuver the cold beskar up and off his head. It clanged dully when he set it down somewhere behind him.

The complete darkness meant there was, thankfully, no chance of seeing his face, but just knowing he was that close to you… his lips, his tongue… after all the things he’d promised? After he’d admitted all the things he’d thought about doing to you? It was a lot to take in.

You shuddered when his exact words came back to you.

I’m going to make you cum on my tongue so hard it hurts, and then I’m going to kiss it better.

For a moment, all you could feel was the rise and fall of his sturdy chest behind you and his humid exhale against your cheek. His mouth was inches away from yours. Your tongue darted out flit across your lower lip.

If you turned your head and angled it just so, you could probably—

With a low growl, Mando interrupted your train of thought. He dipped his head and dragged his tongue up the side of your neck—one slow, languid pull of velvet that melted away any and all of your coherent thoughts. Your head lolled to the other side, giving him all the space he needed to taste you. He took the invitation gladly, greedily laving his tongue over the expanse and sucking hard kisses into your skin.

Hot. Wet. Bliss.

Somewhere in the back of your hazy brain, you knew you were supposed to be doing something.

What was it he’d asked you to do?

Mando worked his way up the column of your neck at a leisurely pace, blazing a searing trail across your sensitive skin, and you sagged in his arms, muscles weakening as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. All the while, you were painfully aware of the insistent pressure of his unmoving hand on your cunt, the press of his hard cock against your ass through so many layers of fabric.

When he reached it, he sucked your earlobe between his teeth, the teasing scrape somewhere between delicious and ticklish.

His lips ghosted over curve of your ear, and he whispered, “Beg for my cock, and I’ll bend you over and fuck you right here.”

Desire flashed up your spine. His unfiltered voice was sexier than the one that came through his helmet. It was warmer, fuller, rawer—ten subtle shades of red, as opposed to the one monotone hue that came through the modulator. It was Mando with no dilution, unadulterated in all his low, rasping glory.

It set something off inside you, obliterated what little composure remained.

You had no excuse—there was no incapacitating drug coursing through your veins, no bio-dart to explain your desperation—and yet, you felt that same exact urgency that Mando had described earlier when he was still in chains.

You felt like if he didn’t fuck you right now, you might die.

“Please, please fuck me. I want you to. Please, I need it,” you pleaded. Something commanding seeped into your tone then—that urgent feeling made material—and when you continued, your voice was unyielding: “Now, I need it now. ”

He snarled, rendered wordless by his own need reflected in your voice, and shoved your pants and underwear down your thighs in one rough movement. He ripped them down your legs until you lifted one foot, then the other, tossing them away into the darkness. Your shirt followed suit. When you were completely bare, he flipped you both around without warning.

“Hands out,” he said, his voice all authority.

You obeyed immediately, your hands flying out to brace against the cold metal wall as one of his large hands slid up your back, following the line of your spine, to rest between your shoulder blades and press you forward. You folded, and he nudged your feet apart and gripped your hips, pulling your ass up and back—manipulating your body into the exact position that he wanted it: open and ready.

You heard him unbuckle his belt behind you, the metallic clink sending a hot shiver down your spine. Your jaw fell open, a quiet, pained moan slipping from your lips, when the blunt head of his cock was rubbed up and down—it slipped so easily up and down—against your soaking wet cunt. You pressed your hips back, and finally, he fitted the head against your entrance and eased himself forward—stretching you slowly, agonizingly slowly. He was thick and long, so he worked you open with shallow thrusts, one hand on your shoulder, the other on your hip to hold you in place as you parted slickly around his girth. You both moaned when his hips met the plush of your ass.

“Fuck me, Mando. Please, fuck me hard.”

Letting out a low growl, he pulled his hips back and obeyed.

The only sounds that filled the hull were the obscene slap of skin against skin and your panting breaths. In the complete darkness, it was easy to get lost in the rhythm, in the slick push and pull, in the deliciously tight fit. The hand gripping your hip wandered inward, seeking out your clit.

Mando curled himself forward then, fitting himself along the curve of your back, and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck. He paused to say, “Let me feel you soak my cock.”

You moaned in reply, reaching back to tangle one hand in his messy curls. Somewhere in the back of your hazy brain you registered this new piece of information, and it made your heart squeeze: Mando has soft, wavy hair.

With his fingers moving deftly over your clit, his cock filling you perfectly, it took less than a minute to reach your peak. His thrusts faltered when you spasmed and tightened around him—letting out a keening moan as the pleasure washed through you—and you knew he was close too.

“Inside—” you panted. “Cum inside—”

He snarled and pressed you closer to the wall, forcing you both upright. The metal of his thigh plates was cold against your bare legs, his forearm braced against the wall inches from your face. He kicked his pace up higher—a punishing slap slap slap—as he impaled you again and again on the rigid length of his cock.

When he came, his teeth threatened to break the skin on your shoulder, and you whined at the sensation, at pleasure tinged with pain. He let out what would have been a shout had his jaw not been clenched tight and canted his hips in an achingly slow motion—once, twice, three times—as he worked out his orgasm, releasing inside you.

Even after he’d finished, after he’d slumped his weight against you, pressing you into the unforgiving metal of the wall, he was still hard—throbbing hot and insistent inside you as you both attempted to catch your breath.

Eventually, he eased out of you, and you turned in his embrace. Immediately, his gloved hands found your cheeks, and he crashed his lips against yours, his bold tongue finding its way into your mouth right away. The kiss was messy and hot, a tangle of tongues as you swallowed each other’s moans.

Your eager hands wandered down his cold armor and settled on his hips, and you pulled away from him to sink to your knees. He let out a groan when he realized what you were doing and leaned heavily against the wall, bent over you, as you wrapped your lips around his cock. He shuddered at the heat of your mouth engulfing him, one large hand coming down to cradle the back of your head as you swallowed him down.

His hips bucked forward, and he grunted, “Fuck—yes—”

And time passed like that, in a darkened blur—everything was a hazy cloudburst of arched spines and bruising grips, a riot of golden sensation, warm and syrupy and tactile. You worked your way through Mando's layers until he too was stripped down, discarding armor and clothes throughout the hull.

Mando was fanatical in his pursuit of your pleasure, a devoted acolyte at the altar of your body. You came three times for every one of his orgasms. It was like a fractured dream: hot, sweaty limbs tangled together; broken moans and heaving sighs; pleasure sharpened to a euphoric peak by small, deliberate doses of pain.

His bare hand closed loosely around your throat while you rode him right there on the cold floor of the hull. His feet slipped across the smooth metal as he braced himself to cant his hips up and up, stunted thrusts in time with the movements of your hips. You could tell your nails were going to leave scarlet half-moons on the undersides of his biceps when you tightened around his thick cock. The rhythmic slap of sweaty skin against sweaty skin rang throughout the echoing ship. Words fled you both, and you were left with purrs and cries, with shaky keening and thundering pants.

The burning urgency—the fire and the fog—of the drug slowly wore off of him: you could tell by the way his movements became less desperate and more measured, by the way words eventually returned to him. He was completely himself again: your Mando. Time slowed, and the pleasure became leisurely, luxurious.

But even without the drug sharpening his need, the mutual hunger remained.

Some time—and innumerable orgasms later—you had finally made your way into his bunk, and you were flat on your back at the top of the cot, legs spread, his head buried between your thighs, your hands tangled in his waves. He was making good on his promise to taste every part of you, and even in the dark, you could hear how much he was enjoying it. He was moaning as he worked his tongue over your puffy, slick lips, circling the aching peak of your clit. You could feel the way he was humping the mattress, his hips stuttering, shaking the metal bedframe.

“Taste so good,” he slurred.

You whined when he slid two thick fingers inside the hot clutch of your cunt, hooking them up in time with the flicks of his tongue. When you came, blood rushed loudly in your ears, cutting off the sound of your own cry of pleasure. You were vaguely aware of the fact that Mando was also cumming: his hips thrusting frantically, jolting the cot, and he groaned against your pussy in an unmistakable way, spilling against the rough surface, entirely untouched. Your own orgasm rolled through you, tensing and arching, seemingly endless. When it finally ebbed, your grip relaxed, fingers slipping from his hair as every muscle in your body went limp.

“Turn—turn over for me,” he breathed, sliding backward to give you space.

You flipped over for him, bracing yourself on your elbows and knees, expecting him to fuck you again. Instead, you felt him settle behind you, and his large hands gripped your thighs and traveled up, kneading the supple flesh and spreading your asscheeks. You gasped when one of his long fingers trailed between them, instinctively looking over your shoulder even though you couldn’t see anything in the dark.

“Can I touch you here? Can I taste you here?”

His voice was low and hoarse, like sandpaper rasping over the smooth surface of steel.

“Yes,” you breathed, desperate to feel him anywhere—everywhere. After hours of this, you were on the verge of delirium—you wanted him to turn liquid and seep into every part of you, until you were inundated, until you drowned in it.

The first hot glide of his wet tongue over your asshole made you both shudder: your elbows gave out immediately, your cheek landing on the cushion of your forearm as goosebumps sprang up all over your skin. And the large hands spreading your ass jerked and tensed, his fingertips digging into your giving flesh.

It was an unfamiliar sensation—not unpleasant or uncomfortable—but new and alluring, half because of how it felt and half because of how much he seemed to be enjoying it. He moaned against you, and one of his hands found its way around your hip to your overstimulated clit. He started rubbing slow, meticulous circles around it as his tongue worked languidly against your asshole, savoring this new part of you.

You pressed yourself against his searching mouth, arching your back. He was as patient as he was determined, working his tongue and his fingers as if steadily edging you toward your peak was bringing him just as much pleasure. You whimpered against the cot when he slipped two fingers inside your aching cunt again.

When you came, every part of you pulsed for him, your cunt around his fingers, your tight asshole against his tongue. He groaned at the feeling of your body tensing and releasing—tensing and releasing just for him—on his fingers and his tongue, the tangible cadence of your pleasure as addictive as it was ephemeral.

He was panting when he pulled back, and you slumped against the cot, rolling onto your back, limp and sated and exhausted. He collapsed somewhere below you, his head resting on your thigh, and the two of you lay like that—completely spent and incapacitated.

You felt lazy and sedate, like a cat who’d slept too long in the sun.

Eventually, you felt Mando stir and back out of the bunk, his weight shifting the mattress, but you were too close to the verge of sleep to reach out for him or ask him where he was going. When he returned a few minutes later, he had a warm, damp cloth in his hand. He shuffled up beside you and ran it over the sensitive parts of you, over the sweat and the slick, gently cleaning you up, and to your sleepy delight, he followed the trail with soft kisses, pressing his lips to every part of you—retracing each step of the night, retreading the pleasure like a familiar path.

Kissing it better.

You hummed at the sensation, at the comfort. At what they promised.

After placing a final kiss on your temple, he disappeared again.

You missed his touch.

But Mando returned minutes later, this time with a full water bottle, coaxing you to sit up and drink before he let you settle back down on the cot. When he was satisfied that you were comfortable and cared for, he crawled up next to you and pulled you into his side, dragging a blanket over both your bodies and draping a heavy arm across your middle.

“Thank you,” you murmured, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. You felt him smile.

“Sleep, mesh’la,” he whispered, his calloused fingers stroking your cheek.

“Mmm,” you replied, your eyelids drooping closed, a drowsy smile on your lips. “Night, Mando.”

“Din,” he said quietly. “Call me Din.”

warmth of you

summary: din djarin takes on an engineer to his new ship, trying to fill some of the emptiness that grogu left behind. he’s surprised to find that you’re filling all the other missing pieces of him, as well.

rating: E (warnings: SMUT; this is the softest, possibly most wholesome smut i’ve ever written, but it’s still smut. PIV, girl on top, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, kissing [the kissingggggg]; self-doubt, some angst, FLUFF THO)

pairing: din djarin x fem reader

word count: ~3900

note: SHOUTOUT as always to @starlightmornings for betaing. also, to @charnelhouse, @wyn-dixie, and @danniburgh for being bad influences and encouraging this. AND ALSO to @thepoisonofgod because this whole thing is really her fault. when i heard the idea of naked tattooed soft!din, it was over. i couldn’t resist it. anyway, this is emotionally wrecked af post-s2 softboi din djarin and i wrote him how i thought he’d be, i hope you enjoy him and love him as much as i do. please go take a look at this incredibly beautiful drawing that @thepoisonofgod​ did of our sweet soft!din: warmth of you

taglist | masterlist

reblogs are LOVED and APPRECIATED <3

~~~

i. Din hated the new ship.

It was too new and too big and too shiny. Every surface was bright, gleaming, blinding. It was too damn clean. He missed the grime of the Crest. He missed the mess of having a child.

He missed the kid.

Keep reading

Miss You

Firstly, thank you so much for the love and enjoying the little preview. I am feeling slightly better, I think real life stress was getting the better of me and with lock-down rules constantly changing it just became a bit much, haha.

Since everyone was so amazing I wanted to gift you with the completed version :D

Summary: Reader has been feeling lonely and lost since the capture of Grogu. With Din being solely focused on looking for him he has overlooked those in front of him. Step up Boba to help you and to also show Din how much you've missed him.

Warnings: Explicit 18+, Unprotected Sex, Slight Sad Thoughts

"That blaster is going to disappear if you clean it anymore, cyar'ika"

Your hands froze as you lifted your head to look up at your host who had been kind enough to take you and Din in when the child was taken.

"Sorry, I wasn't really paying attention."

Boba Fett sat down on the container that you were on, "A woman with a blaster in her hand, not paying attention, I know how that scenario ends all too well."

You allowed a small smile to form on your face as you double checked that the safety was on and placed the blaster down next to you.

“So, care to explain to me why you have been down here for the past few hours?”

“I was just bored,” you lied, keeping your eyes glued onto your lap.

“I never thought anyone who had to travel with me would be boring.”

You bit your lower lip, trying not to let your emotions show but Boba was no idiot.

“How about you tell me what is actually wrong?”

You rubbed your hands nervously over your thighs back and forth, “It is Din and Grogu,” you whispered, “I feel like I have failed Din by not being able to protect him.”

Boba grabbed your hand to stop your annoying movements, “None of us could, this burden isn’t yours alone.”

You ran your other hand through your hair, frustrated looking up at the metal ceiling, “I know,” you tried to swallow the lump that was forming in your throat, “It’s just, I think maybe a part of Din feels that I am. He hasn’t been really talkative lately, and I know he is absolutely terrified for him and so am I but,” you actually gripped his hand harder. Somehow Boba being there gave you the strength to continue.

When Boba had met the both of you and offered to aid you in getting Grogu back he didn’t say a word or judged you two. He didn’t question Din’s way but through that Din was actually comfortable taking it off around him too. He even could crack a joke here and there and he used the same pet names on you as Din did. Din said it was because it was kinda a way of showing they were now a pact or something, you still couldn’t fully grasp all the ways Din followed.

Boba’s appearance didn’t frighten you or revolt you as he had initially thought. You had heard rumours about how he had looked before but you couldn’t expect a man to look his best after defeating death.

“But?”

“But...I need him to know I am there for him and I need him too,” you whimpered, “I just want him to hold me, I want to feel him close to me again. He barely sleeps, I am usually eating alone and it just hurts so much,” you couldn’t fight a few tears that had fallen, “I miss him,”

You sniffled and cleared away the tears, “I am sorry, I am probably sounding horribly selfish,”

Boba tilted your chin to look at him, his brown eyes showed compassion and concern, “Princess, I see how you take care of him, hell you immediately decided to take care of Fennec and I in whichever way you could and you owe us nothing.”

He shifted closer to you, you took in the warmth of his body and noticed just how much wider he was then Din. His muscles hardened with age, slightly soft in some areas but it made him...him. You leaned in closer to him, “I just need to feel wanted and whole again, even for a brief moment. Just to be in the moment, you know?”

Boba looked at you as you tried to put your argument together. You seemed so lost and unfortunately he didn’t really know how to express through words how to help you or help others period. So, he did the only thing he thought would work. He whispered your name, shushing you as he brought one hand to your cheek and the other loosely around your waist pulling you in.

You nuzzled immediately into his hand, "Oh princess," you closed your eyes, soaking in the feeling. His hands were rougher than Din's, fingers thicker too. You knew this wasn't Din but you didn't care. Your body hurt more as you took in his heat, inhaling deeply his smelt of blaster powder and the desert.

"What has that silly Mandalorian done to you?" He leaned into you, his nose brushing against yours as his lips ghosted over you. You sighed into his touch as he left fairy light kisses on your forehead, cheeks and slowly back to your tempting lips. "Leaving a pretty little thing like you so touch starved"

You sniffled slightly as you felt the familiar ache in your chest return.

"Oh no, little one," he tilted your chin and brought his lips to yours. Your eyes widened as you felt something awaken inside you, the yearning you had been feeling melted away as you reached to pull Boba in closer. His kisses weren't as soft or gentle as Din's. Boba was a selfish lover as he nipped at your lips, demanded entrance with his tongue, his grip on your chin tight. He was clearly in control here.

You were able to pull away, your breathing ragged. You looked at with eyes glazed over

"Boba...I need you," you begged, trying to move closer to him.

"How do you need me, princess?" His mouth had wandered over your neck and down to your collarbone. His warm breath left trails of searing goosebumps as you burned for more.

You arched your back like a loth cat, mewling as you slammed back down on Boba's cock. Your body was singing as you continued to chase that high, that itch that you missed so much. Grasping onto the man below you, his low grunts urging you to go catch it. To go get the thing you deserved.

"Make me feel whole again."

**********

You froze when you heard the door hiss open, Boba continued to rock against you paying the new visitor no mind.

"Mesh'la what is going on here?" You barely heard Din as your pulse drummed through you and Boba's praise as he hit that soft spot inside of you.

"She was missing you," Boba responded before you could fumble your words together.

"D-Din I-"

"Show me," he rasped as his rough leather hands scratched at your breasts as he approached behind you.

You tried to lean into his body but he had already pulled away from you and sat on the couch in the room. Leaving him with a perfect view.

"Put on a pretty little show and show me how much you missed me."

You nodded to Din as you ground your hips against Boba's. Looking back at Boba, you took his large hands and placed them on your breasts. His hands nearly enveloped your chest as he gently massaged them.

"Suck, please," you purred. Boba grinned at you, deciding to make this a game to him.

"Suck on what, princess?"

"H-her nipples," Din groaned, he had removed his armor and had unzipped his flight suit and was fisting his cock.

"They are very sensitive."

Boba sat up, adjusting you on his cock plunging in deeper as he took one nipple in his mouth. His brown eyes looking at you as he sucked till it had hardened and then circled his tongue around your nipple

"I miss having you inside me, look how wet his cock is from my juices," you whimpered as you cradled Boba's head. You lifted your hips just till only the head of his cock was inside. Making sure to pause for Din to have a view and sliding back down onto him.

You heard Din groan, "Your pussy looks like it is stretched to its limit, mesh'la "

Boba ceased his ministrations on you as he flipped you onto your back. Hiking your legs higher above his waist he had a clear view of you. Pleasure coarsed up your spine and bloomed in your chest.

"She was feeling empty. I was simply more than happy to oblige," Boba purred, as he kissed you deeply again, choking a sob out of you.

"I miss being under you, feeling your weight envelop me. I miss- fuck Boba! Yes right there oh god don't stop!"

Boba had clearly become impatient and began fucking you again. Your cunt was like a vice around him and even though he had initially done it to get a quick fuck out if you, you were too precious to be taken only once.

"Come on, girl," he grunted as he kept his pace, "Why don't you remind him how you look when you cum"

You gripped his shoulders, grinning up at him as you felt the familiar tingle starting from your toes and flooding through your body. You tried to match his thrusts but your body was like jelly and you couldn't catch a rhythm.

"I'm so close," you closed your eyes, resting your forehead against his. You were in limbo, your body was weightless amongst the onslaught of Bobas movements, your chest burned with the ache you had for Din and the new found emotions for Boba, knowing that this was going to change the dynamics for good.

"Cum for him, cyar'ika," Din was now fully unclothed, standing upright near you and trying to chase his own release.

"Cum, little one. Let go. I will make sure you don't fall too hard." Boba whispered hotly in your ear, "I want to feel you."

You bit your lower lip,scrunching your face focusing on you and only you. One slight change in angle which allowed Boba to brush up against your clit was all that you needed. You threw your head back, calling Boba's name you finally reached your peak. Your breath was sucked out of you as every part of you tensed and released all at once, shuddering and fluttering around Boba

"Yes, that's my girl,what a fucking pretty sight. " Din drawled out the last words as he felt his own release, it was messy as it coated his hands and splashed up onto his stomach. He did not take notice as his seed dripped onto the floor, as he was too entranced by the two of you.

"Beautiful," Boba murmured into your soft, now tangled locks. "Where do you want me, princess?"

"Inside," Din responded for you. You looked at Din, slightly surprised but you could see that he was enjoying the show quite a bit.

You turned to look at Boba, "Inside, please. I need you to fill me."

Boba did not need to be told a third time as his thrusts were wavering, slamming particularly harsh into you before releasing deep inside. Din could see the throb of his cock as he pumped into you, you moaning at every pulse.

Boba rested his head on your chest, your hearts beating erratically together. You held him close, tracing softly along his back, praising him for how amazing it felt. With one last kiss, he slid out of you.

"I think she has one more in her, don't you think, Din?" He asked, as he sat up and swung to the foot of the cot.

You looked at Din through thick lashes, as you held out your hand to him. He took it, bringing it to his face, rubbing it along his stubble, kissing it softly as he leaned over you, never letting go.

“I am sorry, cyar'ika,” he whispered as he kissed your lashes, his voice trembling.

You pulled him close, as he aligned himself with you, sheathing himself within you. You felt the tears at the corner of your eyes, “No Din,” you half moaned, half sobbed, “I am sorry,”

He fit perfectly, he wasn’t as wide as Boba but he was able to reach those places that no one could before him.

You both became one, your limbs intertwining with each other. Gifting each other with kisses, chasing away each other’s tears. Words did not need to be said in this moment for how you two had missed this moment so much. The ache in both your hearts resided as you retraced every known scar, dip in your bodies and every little birthmark.

His rough stubble against your neck as he panted against you, trying to pull you down into another release, grounded you. It was a reminder that he was still here and he had not left you. His hands around your back pressing into him as he brought you both to your peaks was a silent promise that he was going to try to be there for you, always.

You arched your back, crying out as that familiar feeling quickly returned. You felt Boba stroke your hair as he whispered for you to cum.

He looked up at Din, “Remind her what she has been missing, Mando,” he ordered, “Claim her as yours again.”

Din sputtered and cursed a ‘yes, sir,’ as he finished inside you as you came one last time. Being already full thanks to Boba this one was messy as your juices easily dripped out of you as Din gently thrusted to come down from his high.

He collapsed in your arms, kissing the dip in your collarbone, thanking you and apologizing all at once.

“With the Child being gone, I got so focused...” he explained as you stroked his messy locks, kissing him between words.

“Din, it is alright. We will bring him back.” You whispered into his hair, inhaling deeply taking in his scent.

Din sat up from you, laughing as you winced slightly as he pulled out.

“A bit much?”

You shook your head, smiling.

Boba had left for the refresher coming back with two damp towels. He threw one at Din and then gently cleaned up the mess between your legs being extra careful around your swollen lips.

Din cleaned himself and tossed it to the side. You looked at both men as you got up and unfolded the extra cot. Without a word you rearranged the bedrolls so your back wouldn't dig into the metal edges between the two.

You looked at Boba as Din was putting on some sleeping pants.

"Stay, Boba. Please."

Boba and Din kinda gave each other a look, you weren't sure what was going on between the two but it seemed like they were trying to figure this whole new dynamic out.

"I sleep on the left," they both said at the same time.

"Respect your elders, Din," Boba argued.

“This is my room,” Din spat back.

"And my ship!"

Boba dimmed the lights as Din got in (he got the right side btw) and Boba followed after. You pressed your back up against Boba holding his hand that he draped over your waist. You felt the rise and fall of his broad chest against your bareback. You gave him a soft kiss as Din placed you on slightly his chest, your other hand in his.

You flopped onto the now larger makeshift cot, "Both of you can sleep on the floor for all I care," as you curled up under the blankets, “I am going to sleep.”

Din and Boba stopped as they saw your small form in bed.

You felt yourself finally drifting off, “Thank you,” you whispered, pulling the two boys closer to you. The last thing you felt before falling asleep was both of them placing soft kisses on your head and murmuring words of promises to never let you feel alone again.

Permanent Tag List: @ahoeformando @tibbietibbs @hyperspace-spicedreams @darthmama1618 @deewithani @fuckyeahbeskar @kavecika @tacticalsparkles

Musings

summary: Thinking you’re asleep after he’s returned from a long hunt, Din muses about you to himself. (counterpart to Reveries)

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader

note: This is just a little drabble born from my brain while I lay here in bed, typing away on my phone at 12:30 in the morning.

warnings: soft!din, loads of fluff

rating: G

masterlist

Keep reading

The Mandalorian Alphabet

AN: I make no excuses. You know why you’re here. Your prize is over 5k words of this absolute nonsense. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @wrestlingfae @renegademustelid @toxiicpop​ @helplessly-nonstop​ @culturalrebel​ @sinnamon-bunn​ @literal-fand0m-trash​ @hoodedbirdie​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @kateb013​ @hxldmxdxwn​ @lizajane3​ @thewaythisis​ @oh-no-who-am-i​ @crownofmanga​ @talesfromtheguild​ @pascaliprincess​ @kylolover96​ @lukesrighthand​ @lackofhonor​ @lightan117​ @misssilencewritewell​ @theorderoffallenstars​ @fan-g0rl​ @thefineandnobleartofavoidance​ @crookedmoonsaultpunk​ @roxypeanut​ @teaofpeach​ @oloreaa @zombiexbody​ @dudeodin​ @66wookies​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @anonymouscosmos​ @pedrosbigdorkenergy​ @thirstworldproblemss​ @nelba​ @marydjarin​ @absurdthirst​ @hopelikethesun​ @hdlynn​ @sarah–heyy​ @duker42​ @space-kates​ @miscellaneousjunkk​ @cryptkeepersoul​ @mostly-megan​ @shadylightbearherring​ @missfronkensteen​ @chasingeverybreakingwave​ @silvereyedblackwolf​ @the-feckless-wonder​ @ginger-demon-01​ @hardcorewwetrash​ @djarin-junk​

Wheeze okay, I think I got you all! I hope you like it! 💚

Keep reading

You

Pairings: Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: smut, no y/n, minor mentions of blood, fluff, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), vaginal sex, established relationship, mild hurt/comfort, Grogu is the cutest, Din loves his mesh’la

A/N: Another soft!Din piece because I can’t get enough of him. Hope you enjoy :)

Summary: You were used to him being gone for a couple weeks at a time, and even though this would be his longest trip yet, you didn’t want him to see the sadness that weighed on your heart. He turned to leave but before you could stop yourself you blurted it out, not with great urgency, more like a plea. “Be careful.” He froze, his back still turned to you. Not knowing what to do you spoke again, now just above a whisper. “Please.”

-

“Shit!”

You drop your tools and instinctively bring your finger to your lips to sooth the pain, and soon you taste iron. When you pull your hand away you see a small bead of crimson on your knuckle. Nothing too bad, just punishment for letting your mind drift elsewhere.

You hear a soft whine behind you and turn to see the child staring at you, his head tilted with concern.

“I’m ok,” you assure him and wiggle your fingers. “Just a small one.”

You stretch your arms out in an invitation and he excitedly waddles towards you. When you scoop him into your lap he immediately goes for your injured finger, grabbing it with his three fingers to inspect. The sweet act of concern makes you giggle.

He looks at you with those big black eyes and you raise an eyebrow. “Healing not your area of expertise?” you joke.

You set him down to place your tools back in the toolbox and stand to store them where they belong. When you turn back to the little green boy he’s smiling at you, eyes drooping slightly.

“About time for bed, don’t you think?”

Keep reading