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prolix-yuy · 4 months

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Beautiful Release

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: You and Din have an agreement. Simple, clean, easy. But not this time.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, IT'S PEGGING DIN TIME! Anal sex (m receiving), rough sex, sex toys, fingering (m receiving), handjob, frottage, blowjob, swallowing, cumshot, mentions of oral sex (f receiving), mild dubcon (Reader isn't aware of Din's mental state and stops the session to re-negotiate boundaries), painful sex, sex as self-flagellation, hurt/comfort.

Notes: Welcome to my addition to the Peg That Middle Aged Man Event 2024! This idea had been bumping around in my brain and this gave me the perfect excuse to write it. Thanks @wannab-urs for organizing this event, making the gorgeous banners, and giving me a chance to live my fantasies after S3 gave us the most delicious kneeling restrained Din image. I will never forget it, it's burned into my brain forever.

Set after S2 and before The Book of Boba Fett.

Cross-posted on AO3

He’s come to you before, but never like this.

Din always treats your encounters like serendipity, but from the first time you’ve known how far from the truth that is. He finds ways to drift into your path, tilting his helmet like he never expected you to be at this spaceport, which you prefer for its discretion, or in this cantina, which serves a hell of a barium fizz. The niceties always devolve into the silent request, which you never fail to fulfill.

But now, there’s a holomessage blinking on your control panel.

Send me your coordinates. Usual encoding.

It’s brisk, cold, mostly to protect you both, but even then something’s off. He’s never admitted to seeking you out. Something stirs deep in your stomach, consulting the encoding slug he gave you ages ago in case you ever needed him. Funny, the first time you’d use it would be because you think he needs you.

Your winding relationship with Din Djarin began at the business end of a blaster, but you can’t fault him for that. The ship you were flying then had all the hallmarks of a slaver vessel, but when he found your crew of rebel sympathizers he lowered his weapon. One escort and a few short-lived conversations later, and you’d forged a razor-thin alliance.

Your paths wound their way across and through each other for over a year, and in that time Din warmed to you. He gave you his name, his allegiances, his contacts if needed. In return you forged documents and built jammers for his ramshackle ship. Mutually beneficial, and after a time pleasantly warm. His laugh always surprised you, a low chuckle when you turned a phrase just right on him.

And the kid! The curious little gremlin that had been accompanying him more in recent times did help to smooth the rough spots. Grogu’s presence always brightened your days, brief moments of pure joy from his tireless antics. Din seemed to be ever the exasperated protector, but when he tucked Grogu into his arm his aura glowed.

However, the times when Din “stumbled” upon you with seemingly no purpose had little to do with play dates or trades. Well, maybe only in the most euphemistic sense.

It was on a cargo run - cargo being more frightened people fleeing under the guise of your fake shipping business - that Din first encountered what would bring him back to you time and time again. There was a man among the stowaways who took an interest in you, the feeling mutual. He wound his way around like a lothcat in heat, and when you whispered how you might be able to pass the time he enthusiastically agreed.

You weren’t much of an exhibitionist, but the ship wasn’t meant for privacy. So when Din happened upon you bending the man over a cargo crate, your strap slickly splitting him open as he moaned behind your clamped hand, you did feel some mild embarrassment. You weren’t sure how long he watched you thrust into the other man, but the little cough that alerted you to his presence made you turn and take him in.

He was clearly affected, hand gripping his belt as the other clenched by his side. Fascinating. The Mandalorian had surprises in store.

The man garbled about sucking Din’s cock, letting the Mando cum on his face while you pounded his tight hole, but you stuck your fingers in his mouth and picked up your rhythm again. You’d met other Mandalorians in your travels, but Din’s particular religion was much stricter than most. He might take hefty offense if you assumed any of the armor could come off. Instead you let him watch without comment as your companion came all over the side of the cargo crate, soothing him through the aftershocks. As you cleaned him up you noticed your audience fled, and you determined never to speak of this.

It would take two months for Din to come to you.

“People like this?” he asked when you showed him your strap and assortment of attachments. You shrugged, picking out the one you secretly thought he’d enjoy.

“Some do, some don’t. It’s just one of many things I like,” you said, leaning against your bedroom wall as he filled the small space with restless energy. “I’m sure you like plenty of things too.”

There it was. The little roll of the shoulders and flex of a hand that told you Din wasn’t as inexperienced as some would believe.

“Never tried something like this,” he mumbled, and you smiled under the knowledge that he was nervous. Din Djarin, feared throughout the galaxy, and dearer friend than you ever expected, had something he wanted and didn't know how to ask for.

“Would you like to try it?” you said, taking the last barrier away. He tilted the helmet down, fingers restless on his hip.

“Yes.”

That first night you didn’t fuck him, though by the end he was so close to begging you almost came from the sound. Instead you opened him up with your fingers, got him used to the feeling of fullness and how to connect it to pleasure, while he laid on your bed and gripped the sheets so hard you thought he’d rip them. His pants bunched across his thighs, you got to admire the cords of muscle rippling as you made him shake and choke. His cock, velvety and weeping on his stomach, made your mouth water, but you only offered to suck it when he was just on the precipice. Your hot mouth wrapping around his head, two clever fingers stroking his prostate, tipped him over into bliss as he shouted his completion. Pride swelled in your chest at his belabored breath, chestplate heaving and thighs quivering on either side of your head.

When you returned from cleaning up he was already dressed again, despite your protests to wait and let you ease him down from this new experience. He thanked you, awkwardly, and left quickly. Lying in the same bed that night, still smelling of him, you reasoned with yourself. He probably had a lot of feelings to sort out, both around his pleasure and the fact that you gave it to him. You hoped he trusted you enough to know you’d be discreet. And, as your fingers slid into your underwear, you hoped he’d seek you out again.

It was only a week before you were at the same spaceport again, his heavy boots clanking up your ramp. You tried to hide your own nerves, but when Din stood before you and let the visor drag up and down your body, a delicious grin crept onto your face.

“Ready to try more?”

Indeed he was.

He enters your ship without preamble, a brief flit of concern clouding your features at how quickly he disarmed your security measures. You weren’t expecting him for another hour. He must have jumped to get to you.

It’s thrilling, to know the Mandalorian’s need is so great.

But when he enters and closes the door behind him, the energy is…off. Not seductive, teasing, edged like the other times. No, he’s holding his body so tight and so still. There’s nothing aggressive in it, but you glimpse why his enemies fear him. Without a face, and with so much obscuring the flesh beneath, you’re not sure when he’ll strike.

He catches you rummaging through your drawer, the strap in your hand. Assessing, you give him a gentler smile than usual, hands visible, softening your stance.

“Hello, Din.”

He nods, quickly, unbuckling his belt and yanking his cape free. Both fall to the floor carelessly. You press on.

“How about you tell me what you want?” you say, watching him carefully as he opens his pants plaquet. The mouthwatering strip of skin you covet peeks from beneath his top.

“Just need…need this,” he says, and while naturally a man of few words you’d taught him to be more vocal in this respect.

“Okay, Din. How about you kneel on the bed and we start there?” Your voice lowers into a soothing register, reaching for his arm.

“No,” he almost shouts, startling your hand back. He recovers. “No, I want…” You can practically hear him licking his lips on a sigh, slowing himself down. “Can you sit against the headboard?”

Brows raised, you nod. He’s never ridden you before, always preferring to let you take him from behind or on his back. Pulling the strap-on over your leggings, you settle against the headboard and wait for him. He doesn’t take long, kneeling on the bed briefly in contemplation before swinging over your lap. Shucking his pants half down his legs, you can’t resist a giggle.

“Might be better to take them off,” you tease, letting your hands lay featherlight on his hips. A huff crackles through the vocoder but he doesn’t move to disrobe further.

“I’ll open you up a bit first,” you say, one hand reaching for lube while the other snakes its way to his hole. You encounter surprising slickness, but he’s nowhere as warmed up as you get him.

“S’okay, I took care of it,” he mumbles, both hands coming up to grip the headboard above your head. Slicking lube on the dildo, you move to finger him enough to ease your way in.

“Just a little more…”

“I’m fine.”

The curt retort snaps your face to the helmet, now more of a cowled chin and shining halo of beskar above your head. There’s something bubbling uncomfortably under the surface, something you feel the need to drag out by the scruff of the neck, but it’s Din. You never talk feelings with Din. Frankly, you barely talk at all during, or after, any of your nights together.

“Sorry,” he breathes, forcing relaxation. “I’m ready. Please.”

Your eyes linger for a moment longer, then you circle the base of your cock in waiting.

He descends slowly, gritted breaths and sharp blasts of air from his nose echoing above you. You watch the strain in his thighs as he sinks and sinks, his cock only half-hard against his stomach. Leaving a hand on one hip, you stroke soothing paths up and down his lower back, watching for discomfort. Instead he’s marble around you, coiled, body not releasing as usual. Normally when you fuck him he dissolves, rolling his hips back onto you and choking out praises of how good you feel.

None of that comes. He meets the base of your cock and immediately slides back up at an almost punishing pace. He can’t be that acclimated yet, and his pained hisses and grunts only make that more apparent.

“Din, slow down,” you request, hands firmer on his hips to try and even his pace. If he heard you he says nothing, now slamming his hips down on your cock. “Din,” you beseech again, nails starting to dig in. His grunts grow to growls, something from the heat of battle, your headboard creaking from his crushing grip.

Clarity overtakes you, the shudder of his stomach and forceful downstrokes only getting more intense. There wasn’t pleasure in this. Something is eating up Din inside and he’s trying to fuck it out of himself. And he’s using you to do that.

“Din Djarin, STOP.”

The echo of your voice, strong and steely, finally brings Din to a stop with your cock buried deep in his ass. His chest heaves in front of you, limbs quivering from the exertion, but he’s as still as he can be. Gripping his chestplate, you push him back enough to look him in the visor, your anger righteously reflected back.

“You don’t punish yourself with my cock,” you order, teeth clenched and seething. “Do you think so little of me, that I’d just let you rip yourself to shreds without a word?”

Din freezes, but this time you know it’s shame. If you were in a clearer headspace you might have tried reassurance, or asked him to lay beside you and talk about what’s destroying him, but you’re just too upset.

“Is that all you come to me for?” you spit out, knuckles aching from gripping his armor. He’s silent for long enough that you consider throwing him out before he speaks.

“Something happened. And I just want to…be empty. To not think about it every moment.” He leans forward and your visage warps as he presses his forehead to the crown of your head. The anger thrums but starts to ebb as he folds around you. “I didn’t know where else to go. You’ve always taken care of me. More than I deserve.”

The sadness in his voice is palpable, and even with your mouth still sour from his deception you find the compassion to wrap your arms around his middle. The chestplate presses into your cheek, a metronome for Din’s slowing breaths.

“If you have any care in your heart for me, don’t ever do that again,” you grit out. Din’s breath catches.

“I care for you,” he says, and a door in your heart you never realized was cracked widens for Din’s admission.

“I care for you too, you karking asshole, which is why I want you to say something instead of trying to hate fuck your feelings out.”

Din’s chest begins to shake again, but you’re sure it’s laughter this time. You manage a giggle of your own, letting him lean back and look at you again. The motion shifts your cock in him, and his sharp sigh arches your brow.

“If you wanted to forget, you could have just told me,” you say, rolling your hips sensuously up into his clenching hole. Din’s head drops back, grip tightening on the headboard again as you grind into him.

“Please,” he begs, so soft and vulnerable you can’t help but give him what he needs.

Slowly you press up into him, guiding his hips to rock on your cock. You love the feel of his ass in your hands, well muscled and perfect for grabbing, manhandling him just enough to show he can let go. He follows your direction reluctantly at first, but as you plant your feet and start thrusting with more range he loosens. You can feel it in his arms, holding on to the headboard for dear life, and the building rhythm of his hips meeting yours. For a man whose life is violence, you never want to bring that into your sessions. But a light swat on one asscheek pulls the most delicious moan from deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” he groans, bearing down on you even more. Tilting your hips, you arch his back enough that you’re sure to hit his prostate on the next thrust.

“Maker!”

There it is.

“Close your eyes,” you whisper. Waiting a moment, you zero in on that perfect spot inside him and hit it with every one of your thrusts. “Do you feel that? Feel how good I’m fucking you?”

“Yes, fuck,” Din curses, one hand flitting down to squeeze the base of his cock. He’s at full attention now, head bobbing against your stomach. You swell with pride that he’s having to stave off his orgasm so quickly, but you’ll be the one to make those decisions now.

“All I want you to think about is how good you feel,” you purr, tugging his hand away and replacing it with your own. You long for his skin against yours, so you pull up your shirt to skim the head of his cock against your soft belly. He chokes, stuttering away but he’s trapped between your hand and thighs.

“Wait, Maker, I’ll cum if you…” he garbles, but his body keeps meeting your grinds. You shush him gently, stroking from base to tip and smearing precum over the head.

“You will, but only when I let you. You know I’ll make it good for you, make nothing but this pleasure you’re feeling fill that head of yours.” His rapid nod almost knocks you in the head with the beskar, but he manages to tuck into your neck instead. The helmet is a shocking cool against your skin, but the act of burrowing into you must be rewarded. Bringing your arms around him, you press along the length of his body, trapping his cock between.

“I’m gonna pound into this tight ass until you cum all over us. You like that?” The wail Din lets out shoots heat to your cunt, wishing more than anything that you’d opted for a toy that gave you a little stimulation too. Instead you hammer fast and hard, barely pulling out. Your hips and thighs burn with exertion at his bulk on top of you, but he’s frantically bouncing back and rutting his cock into the wet mess your bodies make.

“Don’t stop,” he gasps, and you’re not sure if it’s the vocoder but you think his voice sounds watery. “Please, cyar’ika, don’t stop.”

Cupping the back of his neck, damp with sweat, you whisper, “I’ve got you.”

With a handful of final pumps you’re coated in his cum, sliding around your belly as he seizes over and over. Pressing deep, you hold strong against his shuddering body as he finishes. Each weakening thrust draws him down on you, heavier and loose-limbed.

The armor makes it hard to find the soft spots, so you take to kneading the back of his neck and palming his spine. Before his last aftershock, you urge him higher on his knees so you can slip your cock out - slowly, so as not to shock his jellying body. Easing him down, you hold his head in the crook of your neck and settle him on your lap. His hands slide down from the headboard to your shoulders.

Then you hear it. A tiny sniff, then another. You can’t pretend you didn’t notice them so close to your ear. So you gather the broad man in your arms and hold him. His hands don’t know where to rest, finally winding loosely around your lower back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” you tell him again, and the sniffing starts to recede. His body, however, slumps against yours, and it takes all of your strength not to start giggling.

You fucked the Mandalorian right to sleep. Bravo to you.

When Din finally stirs, a deep rumble in his throat, it’s been almost an hour. Your toes are half numb and you’re dying to shift into any other position, but much like a lothcat falling asleep on your lap, you couldn’t bear to move Din. Especially when he started snoring, one of the most endearing and hilarious sounds you’d ever heard him make.

In the time he slept you wondered what happened. What terrible thing hollowed him out and haunts him. Something keeps him up at night, if the depth of his sleep is any indication. Recent, possibly. Traumatic.

Your breath caught in your throat. If something happened to Grogu you know he would have told you. You ask after him all the time, teasing that you’ll be his Auntie (Din always says he has plenty of them across the galaxy).

Had you seen the Razor Crest fly up? Where was that old bird anyway?

What happened in the time since Din last saw you?

The cycle of possibilities always ends the same. Maybe he cares for you in some way, but not enough for you to ask. No matter how much you want to.

A shift on your lap alerts you to Din waking, kneading his shoulders and neck lightly to alert him to your presence. He’s never slept with you before, but it wouldn’t surprise you to learn that he’s quick to draw at unexpected circumstances. Of which this one definitely is.

“What…” Din croaks, and if not for the helmet you would have offered him water.

“It’s okay, you’re on my ship. You’re okay.”

It takes Din another minute to realize what’s happened. Him, half naked on your lap with your strap pressing against his ass. You, covered in drying cum beneath him. In a flash he’s swinging his leg off your lap, attempting to stand but obviously they’ve gone as numb as yours because he stumbles and crashes out of sight.

“Oh kriff, are you…?” you start to ask, but as quick as he’s out of sight he pops back up again, tugging up his pants and tucking himself away.

“Sorry, that was…I didn’t mean to…do that.”

All of the heaviness and anger and lust fizzles away to laughter as you try to suppress the ridiculousness of the moment. After a moment of indigent head tilting Din’s shoulder also shake, chuckles fuzzing out of the vocoder.

“Oh Maker, what an understatement that is,” you sigh, wiping your stomach with the edge of your bedsheets. Din visibly cringes, hands on his hips.

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologizes, but you wave it off.

“I’ve had much worse, believe me,” you shoot back. Clean enough, you sit on the edge of the bed and look up at the inscrutable man.

“Want to talk about it?”

Din’s stance shifts, helmet tipping down for a moment before coming back to your face.

“...Not yet.”

You hum and nod. “Well, you know how to find me if you do.”

Din nods. “Thank you.”

As he picks up his effects you shimmy off the harness at the foot of the bed, mentally ticking through the steps to clean everything. Din watches you set it down, stilling until your eyes come back to him.

“It gives you pleasure as well?” he asks, which raises one of your eyebrows.

“I mean, about as much as rhythmically hitting your hips against someone can do.” His posture changes into something hard to decipher, so you continue. “I’ve got a few that do more for me, but it depends on the person I’m with. Comfort, boundaries. As you’re well aware.” You gesture to the armor, his chin tucking down to look at it.

“So you’ve never cum with me?” he asks, and a sudden feverish heat blooms under your skin. Din has a sex appeal you appreciate, but have never acted on beyond what he’s asked for. Now, something’s changed so dizzyingly fast you’re scrambling.

“Well, you’re pretty spent after our sessions. And you leave quickly. I don’t ask for more than you can give.”

Din takes a step towards you, putting his belt and cloak back down.

“What do you ask of other people you fuck?”

Your heart hammers in your chest. How can he turn the tables so quickly and spectacularly? Trying to gain the upper hand, you pull a confident face on and speak as breezily as possible.

“Most can’t get it up twice after I fuck them within an inch of their life, so fingers, tongues, toys, any and all of the above are excellent ways to repay the favor.”

He’s even closer now, and the facade is barely holding up. It’s like the vulnerability he showed you can’t possibly be returned.

“You’ve never asked me,” he says, and you can’t believe there’s a note of regret in his voice. The bed hits the back of your legs, and you steady your voice even though those words make your pussy throb.

“I didn’t think it was allowed.” Your voice drops low as Din steps into your space.

“Difficult, but not forbidden.” Din’s hands come to your shoulders. “Sit down, please.”

Your knees fold so fast you bounce on the bed, looking up at him. He joins you on one knee, hands coming to rest on your thighs.

“I broke my Creed. I would do it again, for the exact same reason, but now that makes me an apostate.” His hands come to the helmet, thumbs tucking underneath the lip.

“Din, what happened?”

He pauses, and you swear you can feel his gaze through that smoky visor.

“Close your eyes.”

Darkness surrounds you, then a hiss and a thunk.

Then the voice of a man you care for, unfiltered and bare.

“I’m not ready for anyone to see my face. But I want this, with you. If you can forgive me.”

You could be dreaming still. It would make just as much sense.

“I forgive you, Din. But just this once,” you sneak in at the end just to hear how melodic his laugh sounds. Then his hand splays over your stomach and urges you to lie back.

“I hope you don’t mind teaching me this. I don’t have much experience,” he says, fire licking through your body as he tugs your leggings and underwear off.

“Don’t worry, you’re a quick learner,” you say breathily.

And when he finally kisses you, sweet with your musk on his tongue and your orgasm dripping from his fingers, you teach him how to do that as well.

END

"I need some distraction Oh a beautiful release Memories seep from my veins Let me be empty Oh and weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight.

Sarah McLachlan, Angel (yeah I know I used the sad dog song)

#PMAMC 2024 #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #prolix fics

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djarincore · 5 months

Text

To Touch Darkness

summary: Din is possessed by the darksaber, forcing all of his darkest fears and deepest desires to manifest in a way that threatens to consume you.

pairing: haunted!din djarin x f!reader

word count: 4.8k

warnings: dark, dubcon, biting, blood, oral (f and m receiving), hair pulling, rough sex, overstimulation, possessive behavior, name calling, dirty talk, breeding kink, breath play, degradation, unprotected PIV, manhandling, mainly smut, please read tags carefully and do not read if anything could be potentially triggering!

a/n: there's something so sexy about an emotionally closed off man who gets possessed and all those locked up feelings surface in the worst way possible and he becomes obsessed with his desire hehe

There was something wrong with Din.

You wanted to believe in logical explanations. Grogu was gone, training with Luke Skywaker and shrinking your clan of three to two before you could process your goodbyes. The Razor Crest was ashes—the only home the two of you had known for the years you’d been together. And Din’s creed was broken, leaving him an apostate with an uncertain future. Not to mention he was now in possession of an incredibly powerful weapon, the darksaber, and he didn’t even want the responsibility of its power.

The world was crashing down around him; it made sense for him to change.

But, you were wrong—so very wrong.

Your slow realization began the first night without Grogu. The two of you had gone back to Tatooine with Boba Fett and Fennec Shand, finding an inn to stay at before planning your next moves.

Exhausted, as you laid on your side in bed together, his bare hands wandered over your skin, hot and needy, his mouth trailing down your neck in search of the spot that made you melt beneath him. He knew it well, having spent hours ravishing you in the dark of his bunk long before Grogu was ever in your lives.

You craned your neck to face him with a frown. Maybe now wasn’t the best time; after all, you both just lost a son. “Din, I don’t think-”

With better access, his lips sealed yours in a passionate and frenzied kiss as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your pants.

“Need you,” he grunted, yanking your pants down along with your underwear, “Now.”

“But, Din,” you attempted to protest, but it died on your lips when his hand pulled your thighs apart and another wrapped around your waist. His rough palm came in contact with your clit and a finger ran up your folds. You shuddered and gasped when he ground his palm against your clit, urging you to grind against it. You could feel him growing stiff against your ass as he rutted against you.

It was unlike him to be so desperate; Din was all about calm and collected control. When the two of you were in bed together he would never fully lose himself to his desires, a part of him always held back, too afraid to hurt you. His hands would only ghost the column of your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh of your skin but never sinking in and taking what he wanted.

But, you were tempted by that locked up part of himself, by what he could do and how well he could ruin you if he’d just give in.

Both your emotions were running high from your newfound loss; you slowly allowed yourself to succumb to the pleasure he offered to forget your feelings for a night.

Din turned you on your back and his lips returned to your neck, trailing down the slope and through the valley of your breasts. You moaned when his tongue ran over your nipple, building it up to its peak and then moving on to the next, teasing lightly with his teeth.

His finger worked over your clit, massaging circles around it until you were writhing and soaked. He cursed as he stuffed two fingers into you without warning, curling his fingers in your heat. “So tight ‘n wet for me.”

You cried out, shocked by the sudden feeling of fullness. You weren’t quite used to how rough he was being, the words he spoke. As much as you loved his praise and gentle whispers, you couldn’t deny how wet you became from hearing the rasp in his voice or the way he commanded your body with rough touches.

You shifted your hips to adjust to his fingers, but he clawed down on your thighs, forcing you open.

“Stay still,” he growled.

You struggled to comply. Hips jerked in response to his thick fingers pushing and pulling through your slick heat. You whimpered his name, curling your fingers around his bicep. You could feel the tension in your belly building.

Din huffed, his fingers slipped out of you and he manhandled you onto your stomach, propping you up and ready for him.

Your eyes widened. He never liked taking you in this position, said it was too impersonal. He always wanted to see you, kiss you, watch as your face twisted with pleasure, to see your eyes open again and know they were filled with love.

He leaned over, pressing himself against your pulsing heat, allowing you to feel just how badly he wanted you. He whispered low in your ear, rough and heated, “What’d I say, mesh’la?”

“S-Sorry,” you panted, pushing against his cock. You were throbbing, aching to be filled again and again.

“Think you can take me yet?”

You only nodded into the pillows, too distracted by the rustling of his pants sliding off and being discarded somewhere in the corner of the room. His thick cock dragged against your entrance, soaking in arousal.

“I need an answer,” he demanded, pulling your face from the pillows. He cradled your jaw. The tips of his fingers trailed down to brush against the column of your throat.

“Yes! Please, Din,” you begged, pushing your aching cunt against him.

When he slid in, molding you around his cock, you clung to the pillow and moaned. He grunted once he was all the way in, already pressing against that perfect spot that made your entire body tremble. He just knew your body all too well and when he began grinding into you just the way you liked, you nearly fell apart with a cry.

“Such a good girl,” he groaned when you opened around him, adjusting his grip tighter on your hips to control you. His thrusts started shallow, allowing you to adjust to his size, until you begged for more. “Ready, cyare?”

“Yes, please, I need it,” you mewled, rocking your hips back.

The first heavy thrust nearly pushed you against the headboard. He continued at that pace, drilling into your tight cunt. The slick dripping between your thighs was messy and your walls fluttered around him, pulling him deeper until he was groaning and snapping his hips harder.

You swore you were going to break. The angle was different; he was pressing against you in all the right places, filling you to the brim. The building pleasure in your stomach grew and grew. His hand wandered away from pressing bruises into your hip and brushed against your swollen clit.

You jerked away with a pitiful yelp, but his other hand held you down, moving from your hip to the back of your neck once again, pressing your face into the pillows.

“You’re okay,” he soothed. “Doing so well for me.”

“Ah, Din, feels so good,” you whimpered, sinking deeper and deeper under the waves of pleasure as his finger continued moving on your clit, sending strong pulses throughout your body. It rocked you to the very core until you threatened to snap.

The fingers around your neck pressed gently, reminding you he was there, completely in control of your pleasure. The added pressure only served to bring you closer to your climax.

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you managed through your breathless pants.

With a few more thrusts of his hips, you shattered completely with a sharp cry, squeezing his cock until he followed soon after. You rode your highs together, his chest against your back and his mouth to your ear, whispering praises.

As you eased yourself onto your stomach, Din slipped out but continued to hover over you, ghosting fingers up and down your spine to soothe you.

“Did I hurt you?” His concern and guilt took over his exhaustion. Two hands roamed your body, tracing the marks and bruises he created.

You cut off his on coming apology, “I’m fine, Din. I-I actually liked it.”

“Really?” His fingers pressed into your skin. “Are you sure?”

You laughed, turning over to grab his head and pull him down, attacking him with a flurry of kisses all over his face. “I’ll say it one more time—I’m fine, Din.”

Din pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, cradling your cheek in his palm. “You won’t leave, right?”

Your brows furrowed. It was a sudden question, but you had a feeling you knew what brought it out. “No, Din.”

A shadow passed over his eyes, so quickly you swore you imagined it.

“You’re mine?”

Your worry faded into a chuckle. “Last time I checked, we’re married. Of course, I’m yours forever.”

Din pulled you into his chest, an arm draped over your waist, his fingers pressing into your back. He peppered kisses over each splotch of color along your neck. He was clearly satisfied with your answer.

As you drifted off, you faintly heard a whisper.

“Mine forever.”

Din’s behavior only declined after that night. He rarely allowed you to leave his side or wander too far out of sight, claiming it was better this way, safer.

Who knew what kind of enemies he had made after capturing Moff Gideon? There were people after him; they were enemies shrouded in shadow and ghostly whispers he couldn’t explain, but they were there—he was sure of it.

And the only place you could be safe was by his side as he viciously tore his enemies apart. Bounties were no longer given the choice to be taken in alive.

You witnessed Din slice a man’s hand off with the darksaber simply because he grabbed your hand as he begged for his life. And when you asked him why he’d done that, he only shrugged and polished off the darksaber’s hilt.

“He touched what’s mine.”

His words burrowed into your skin for weeks to come.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Every time he held the darksaber you wanted to shy away. The ominous glow surrounding its dark void pulled you into its haze and clouded your rational thoughts.

His words were no longer spoken with adoration and devotion—there was only obsession. He needed you, craved you so desperately. His frenzied hunger consumed you every night. He was rough, needy, as if every second you weren’t wrapped around his cock would turn him into a starved beast. You were never without splotches coloring your skin, never without his touch burning onto every inch of your body.

And you craved him all the same, falling into his arms when he opened them. The need was insatiable, almost painful. To be without him created an ache deep in your heart, a pounding in your skull, and throbbing desire for him to be buried in your weeping cunt.

So, you continued to follow him because you loved him and needed him.

He often talked about Mandalore, not just when it came to bathing in its waters to be redeemed but reclaiming it, becoming its rightful ruler. You didn’t understand where the desire came from. He was so adamant about giving the darksaber to Bo-Katan after winning it from Gideon, not wanting anything to do with the responsibility.

His determination led the two of you to find the Armorer, hoping she’d give him the support and guidance he needed. When you ended up on Glavis, where the Armorer and Paz set up a new forge, you were glad to see them.

It almost felt normal. For the past six months all you knew was Din. Seeing familiar faces brought back a sort of clarity in your mind; the world was more than just Din.

That night you laid with Din in a bed offered by the Armorer in the new covert. You stayed up, haunted by your thoughts. Your recurring dreams, more like nightmares, were plagued with panic and danger, blood and death.

The nightmares started after Din’s change in character and always surrounded him, whether it was him washed in the blood of his enemies or lying in a pool of his own.

Fresh air would do you well. You had to untangle yourself from Din’s arms. Carefully, you slipped his arm off and rolled yourself out of his grasp, replacing your body with a pillow. He didn’t stir and you crept out of the room without a sound.

You hated stumbling around in the dark. Before things with Din began to change, you had no problem with it, but now it felt suffocating to be trapped in the darkness.

The new covert was smaller, made up of narrow walkways with no railing. One small misstep and you’d tumble over into the abyss. A small part of you wanted to turn back, stay with Din where it was safer, where he could protect you, but that thought shrunk the longer you walked down the familiar path toward the forge.

The light in the room beckoned you inside. Paz was sitting on a bench cleaning a few blasters with a rag.

“Come in,” he invited, not taking his focus away from his task.

You slipped into the room and sat on a bench situated against the wall.

“Trouble sleeping?” He asked.

“Sort of,” you said. It was odd to be alone after so long by Din’s side. You almost felt empty.

After a long silence, Paz finally spoke.

“The darksaber is dangerous,” he spat. “The apostate should have never brought it here. It craves power and control. It draws strength from fear and desire.”

You sat, dumbstruck. You felt a moment of clarity, something you hadn’t felt in weeks. Were you truly so blind to the darksaber’s influence over your mind and body? But it all made sense—the lust, the possessiveness. The darksaber was to blame.

You missed Din, the man he used to be and the life you had.

“There has to be a way to help him, right? We can take it away, destroy it,” you spouted off.

Your speech was growing frenzied, your mind desperately raced for solutions to fix a problem you didn’t understand.

“We have to help him,” you begged. You stood and rushed to Paz, grabbing his arm. “Please-”

“What’s going on here?”

Din appeared like a ghost at the edge of the shadowed doorway. Darkness seemed to consume his outline, pulling him further into the abyss.

You slipped your hands from Paz’s arm and stepped away, afraid of what Din might do if you clung to him longer. The sound of the darksaber igniting and echoing screams rang in your ear.

“Nothing,” you were quick to say, but Paz thought differently.

“You’ve changed.”

Din’s low, dark chuckle made your shoulders tense. Confidence seeped in his stance, his posture lax and head cocked. “Have I?”

“You scare your own riduur, brother.”

“She’s not scared.”

Paz stepped in front of you, shielding you behind his large body. “You do not get to decide that.”

With your face no longer in his sight, the confidence slipped into rage. “Stay away from her,” Din growled.

Paz shifted his feet, igniting his vambrace shield. The tension began to rise as both men reached for their weapons.

“Din, stop,” you demanded, stepping from behind Paz. You didn’t want bloodshed—you just wanted him to be free. “We just want to help you.”

“Come here,” Din commanded.

The feeling was undeniable. The heavy push toward him forced your feet toward him. Though your mind wanted to fight it, your eyes gravitated toward the darksaber clutched in his fist. It screamed and called for you, distorted and clear all at the same time.

“Din,” you begged, as if his name would be enough to rid him of the darksaber’s curse.

“I did not ask.”

Like metal grinding against metal, a trilling noise reverberated in your skull, calling you to him with more than just words.

“You do not deserve that weapon nor your riduur.”

Paz’s harsh words were enough to push Din into igniting the darksaber. A pitch black saber with a glow of white and a hollow ringing as it raised, the sight brought a tremble in your legs. The confrontation would only end one way if you didn’t defuse it.

“They belong to me.”

It was like Din’s voice was not his own.

“The darksaber was forged by my ancestors. It does not belong in the hands of an apostate.”

“Then come get it.”

The threat was evident in his words. A new challenge for the darksaber was approaching, one that would only end in death to mark the true keeper of its power.

Paz stepped forward. The ringing became louder, unbearable.

“Stop!” You threw yourself in the middle, arms outstretched. “That’s enough!”

You carefully stepped toward Din, hoping your wavering smile would make him sheath the darksaber and forget Paz’s words. “Let’s go to bed, okay?”

Din grabbed your arm and tugged you away. When Paz stepped forward again to follow, you stuck your hand out to shoo him away. He had the best intentions, but you didn’t want to see him dead.

When Din returned the darksaber to his belt, the ringing didn’t stop. You wanted to run, but you wouldn’t leave Din to be consumed by the darksaber’s influence.

Din dragged you back to your bedroom; the silence was tense. His grip around your arm burned and he squeezed until you let out a whimper. “He’s turning you against me, trying to take what’s mine.”

He threw open the door and pulled you inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

“It wasn’t like that,” you whined, clawing at his hand. Maker, your head was pounding. “He only wanted to help.”

“Help?” He scoffed. His other hand came to grip your jaw, his nails digging into your cheek, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “Don’t fucking lie to me. Just admit you want to leave me too,” he all but roared.

It was fear speaking. His hand trembled as he held you. Like a caged tiger lashing out.

Your eyes burned as both of his grips tightened. “No,” you managed to squeeze out of your puckered lips. “Never.”

“Prove it.” He released you with a shove, sending you tumbling to the floor, and sat on the bed. He began to unbuckle his pants.

You stared at him wide eyed, slightly dazed from the fall. He was never this rough or demanding, even when he was buried deep inside your cunt, taking you over every flat surface available.

“Don’t sit there and look dumb.”

His words brought you back. Your legs clenched and shame flooded through you.

It wasn’t right. You were supposed to be convincing him to get rid of the darksaber, not getting aroused when he threw you around with impressive strength.

Your head was screaming; the pounding against your skull made you fear something would burst out of it. You couldn’t focus.

You needed to…

Your hands were on him. You freed his cock easily and got to work without a second thought. You just wanted to—needed to—please him.

Stroking his thick cock with your hand, your thumb brushed over the weeping tip and smeared pearls of precum over him. You felt saliva begin to pool on your tongue as you leaned forward to take him into your mouth. Your lips wrapped around his cock, taking as much as you could until you reached halfway. You stroked the rest of him with your hand.

“That’s it,” he sighed, a hand reaching to press against your skull to guide you.

Your head bobbed, tasting the saltiness of him on your tongue. You moaned when evidence of your arousal began seeping into your panties. You attempted to shift your hips and angle your heel against your core to give yourself some stimulation. Your clit rubbed against your heel, a weak pressure but managed to send a shudder through you.

When Din sensed you were more interested in getting yourself off, he forced you down his cock until you choked. Tears pooled in your eyes as you tried not to gag. Your hand clawed at his hip, begging for air.

“Take it,” he ordered, his voice nothing but a harsh bite. He could feel your throat fluttering around him perfectly—a mouth made just for him.

You blinked away your tears and tried breathing through your nose.

“You want to come so bad you’re going to fuck yourself on your heel? Heh, what a naughty little slut,” he said, clicking his tongue.

You nearly jolted at that word, eyes widening. It was always mesh’la or cyare; on rare, gentle nights it was riduur—never slut. Your brows furrowed, but he paid no mind.

His hand guided you along his length, deep and quick. His breaths came ragged as he used you. He pulled you off at the height of his pleasure, biting back a groan.

“Get up,” he demanded.

You gripped the bed for support as you stood on weak legs before his seated figure. The throbbing in your core grew stronger when his hands came to slide up your waist, beneath your shirt, to cup your breast, running both thumbs over your hardening nipples.

“This is mine,” Din rasped, pinching one of your nipples until you yelped. Another hand trailed down, slipping into your panties and cupping your leaking cunt. “And this is mine. Every fucking inch of you belongs to me.”

He dragged a single digit through your folds, gathering your arousal on his finger before dipping into your warmth. Your hands flew to grip his shoulder pauldrons when he began moving his finger and grinding his palm against your clit.

“There is no running from me,” he growled. He ripped his hands from your body and stood in a mass of intimidating silver armor. “I’ll make sure you remember that. Take your clothes off.”

You were pushed on the bed before you could blink and Din was removing the rest of his armor and clothes. Each plate clashed against the floor, the sound of anticipation. You followed his orders, quickly shedding off your clothes, revealing yourself to the cold night air.

By the time you were naked, his helmet was all that was left. He revealed his face, finally. The eyes you loved were void of any emotion other than lust. Dark eyes scanned your body as he stalked toward you and slipped onto the bed.

Laying flat on your back, you awaited his next demands. It would be wise to listen. There was no telling what kind of beast you’d unlock with one wrong move, yet you were shamefully eager to discover it.

When he knelt between your legs, devouring your glistening pussy with his starving eyes, he pushed your legs wider, bending your knees up toward your chest.

Din lowered himself onto the bed without tearing his gaze from your cunt. He wet his lower lip before kissing along your inner thigh.

“Stay.” Was his only command before he dove into your sweet cunt. He dragged his flat tongue slow up your slit and against your clit.

You held onto your trembling legs, pulling yourself open for him, as he delved into your folds. He devoured you, using his hands to spread your lips wider as he fucked you with his tongue, eating you like he was starving.

You clawed at your knees, trying to keep your legs open, as breathless pants slipped through your lips. Your orgasm was approaching fast and if he didn’t let up or give you a break, you’d come all over his face.

Maybe that’s what he planned. Once he began to rub your sensitive clit, ignoring your whines, you knew it was over.

“Ngh, Din,” you gasped, giving up on holding your legs when the overwhelming rush of your impending orgasm flooded you. Your legs locked around his head, fingers tugging his hair as your hips moved to reach your high.

“That’s right,” he moaned into your cunt, encouraging you to ride his face further, clawing your thighs.

You met your peak with a sharp cry, grinding against his face as his tongue lapped up your release. His hunger was insatiable; he cleaned any drop of your arousal that leaked from your cunt. When he finally emerged, he swiped his thumb over the corners of his mouth and sucked that off as well.

“No one else can make you feel like this, huh?”

You caught your heaving breath. “No one.”

Hands slotting beneath your knees, Din spread you open once again. Your body was still shuddering, sensitive, when he slotted himself between your legs. His cockhead caught against your opening and you groaned, still twitching from the aftershocks of your orgasm, “W-Wait, Din.”

“Quiet,” he growled, grabbing your neck. His hand squeezed, cutting off your breath, leaving no room for any more argument.

The usual loving gaze he kept was gone, gentle hands and loving gestures, replaced by something darker—a locked away desire bubbling to the surface.

You hated how much his voice and his complete control made your body tremble. You needed him to satisfy you.

He entered you without another warning, forcing himself into your cunt despite the resistance of your tight walls. He didn’t give you the chance to adjust to his thick cock filling you.

You yelped, clawing at his arm. The lack of oxygen and his rapid thrusts made your mind spin. There was nothing but Din as darkness crept into your vision—it would only be him forever.

“Gonna fuck a new baby into you,” he grunted.

That would have given you pause if you weren’t so caught up in bliss, trapped in the haze of pleasure he gave you. You only moaned, words were lost to you, your tongue nothing but a heavy mass.

“You want that, don’t you?” He cooed, “To be swollen with my kid. You’d never be able to leave my side.”

He released your neck and you gasped for air, grateful with each breath you could gulf down. His hand slid down your chest until he reached your stomach and pressed down; he could feel the bulge of his cock moving inside you.

“Right here. Feel that?”

The pressure from his hand brought tears to your eyes. He was relentless—he fucked you until you cried, helpless under his strength. Your body was nothing but a doll for him to break and mold beneath his touch.

Your sobs were silenced by his lips, rough and heady, devouring every gasp and cry. You tasted blood, felt the sting of your lower lip from where he bit. Din trailed kisses and sucked marks onto your neck as you writhed beneath the attention you were too weak to deny.

His hand slid lower, his thumb grazing your sensitive clit. You came without warning, arching into his thrusts and clawing at his back with a sob.

He continued, unphased by your cunt clenching around him, allowing you to ride out your high to the point of almost painful overstimulation.

Your chest heaved, begging for a break he would not offer. Your legs fell limp against the bed. “C-Can’t,” you choked.

It was too much, too sensitive. And when he hit that perfect, spongy spot inside you, your back arched with a violent cry escaping you.

“You can take it,” he encouraged, hands slipping beneath your thighs to push them to your chest, spreading you wider and letting him go deeper. “You’re gonna be good for me, yeah?”

All you could do was nod through his punishing movements as he worked closer and closer to his release. He muttered breathless promises until they trailed off into nothing but grunts and groans.

“Give me another one.”

“Maker, I could stay buried in you forever.”

He was lost, taking all the pleasure for himself as you laid there whimpering, twisting your hands around the sheets or running them down his back. You ached all over, but you could feel another climax building, twisting inside you.

Din cursed, the harsh groan came before he sank his teeth into your shoulder. You weren’t sure if you screamed or not, too consumed by your orgasm and him filling you. Your hands desperately clawed down his back the deeper his teeth dug.

“D-Din,” you stuttered weakly, eyes falling heavy under the pain; your face twisted.

He let you go after his teeth made their mark on your skin, a sign for anyone else foolish enough to challenge him for you. He pulled your limp figure close to his chest and held you in his arms until your breath evened.

You were fading, succumbing to your exhaustion and his warm embrace. Though there was a thought floating around in your meddled brain, something important.

Din shifted inside you, not pulling out yet. You could feel the mixture of your cum stuffed inside of you and slowly leaking between your legs. It was just the two of you, lost in the aftershocks of your orgasms.

Whatever the problem was, it must not have been important if you couldn’t remember—it could be dealt with…eventually…you just…wanted to…sleep.

Lulled by the sound of vibrations, like a strange ringing, you slipped into a deep slumber, wrapped in Din’s arms, and were pulled into darkness.

Nothing was wrong.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader smut #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction

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writerlyhabits · 1 year

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Hello, may I request a one-shot of the Mandalorian x Reader who somehow gets frozen in Carbonite during a fight, then wakes up blind with the Carbonite sickness? I'm a sucker for that kind of hurt/comfort stuff :)

Listen, I lost my creative juices halfway through this, and didn’t get them back for quite a while… 😬 So I’m sorry that this has taken so long, or if it’s not really all that good, but I’m kind of happy to just throw it into the abyss and let you guys have it 😂😂

Thanks @deceiverofgodss for suffering through this with me, ily 💛

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: hurt/comfort 💛, carbonite sickness, temporary blindness, brief mention of canon-level violence, sweet loving soft amazing Din, the helmet comes off 👀, Grogu is heartbreakingly adorable, I think that’s it?

At first, all you could feel was cold. Biting and endless, you couldn’t decipher any other feeling than the all-consuming cold seeping from your bones.

Then there was a warmth… was it warm? It was certainly warmer than the hell you’d been in, that had to count for something. A firm grip held you close, cradling you into their chest as you laid sprawled against their lap on the ground. As the feeling in your body gradually came back – or maybe your brain was just starting to thaw out – you recognized the warmer surface that was pressed against you in so many places.

Beskar.

The next thing to hit you was the smell of leather and fire, a smell you were no stranger to. The smoke that rose off of weapons you handled in your day-to-day life, and the buttery smoothness of well-worn leather gloves that were smoothing over your cheeks, filling your nostrils with the familiar scent. Gloves you’d felt caress your skin countless times before.

It started quiet, the muffled sounds of the world around you. A deep voice was speaking, accompanied by soft footsteps making quiet clangs against the metal flooring beneath you. How many people were here? Where were you?

You felt your brows furrowing as you tried to focus on the sounds filtering through your ears, and you gave an experimental tilt of your head to see what kind of motion you could pull off. It was very slight, but it was movement. It was probably only noticeable to whoever was holding you if they were paying very close attention.

“Mesh’la? Can you hear me?” You made out, the voice above you laced with concern and panic.

Din.

You opened your eyes slowly to let whatever light beyond your eyelids filter in slowly, allowing your body to take the recovery process one step at a time.

But the light never came.

Maybe your eyes weren’t open?

“I told you she’d be alright, Djarin,” you heard in a thick accent from a few steps away. “She’s a fighter.” That gruff voice was Boba’s for sure, but you still had no way of confirming what you were hearing. Were your eyes just… adjusting?

“Make yourself useful and figure out how to get more light in here, she can’t see anything,” Fennec’s unmistakeable lilt snarked, and with an amused grunt fading away with matching footsteps, you knew she’d thrown her jab at Boba. Yes, more light. That’s all you needed, everything was going to be alright.

“Talk to me, how do you feel?” Din said above you, and you realized you hadn’t acknowledged him in your confusion. You made an effort to use your vocal cords, a few experimental groans coming out before you could manage any words.

“I feel… tired.” You heard a quiet, shaky laugh come out from under Din’s helmet, and it didn’t take much longer before you felt the familiar Beskar of his helmet on your forehead. You steadily lifted one of your arms to reach for him, your body still coming back to temperature, and he met you halfway. If your eyes weren’t already closed, they were now as you savored the feeling of his hand in yours, how irrationally warm it made you feel to have Din wrapped so tightly around you.

You heard Fett’s distant sound of triumph and a sputtering of electrical devices in the room around you. When Din slowly lifted his helmet, you attempted to open your eyes one more time.

“There she is,” Fennec sighed, and your stomach flipped. “How’s the light, is that a little bit better?” She asked gently.

You still couldn’t see anything.

“Mesh’la… what’s wrong?” Din’s voice was quiet, smooth. Like he was trying to keep himself calm in order to comfort you. “Hey, look at me, I’m right here.” Your heart jumped to your throat, your head beginning to spin when you thought about how impossible such a simple task sounded when all you could see was black.

“I… I can’t,” you whispered, unable to stop the quiver as you finished speaking, the panic starting to set in. You didn’t know where you were trying to go but your body went into overdrive, legs scrambling for some kind of leverage to sit yourself up. Before you could go far, Din’s hand squeezed yours a little tighter, the arm wrapped around you firm as he pulled you into a sitting position while keeping you curled up against his chest.

“You can’t what?” Din’s voice was too calm, it was unsettling. Usually knowing that he was able to keep his calm in a less-than-ideal situation would be comforting to you, encouraging you to do so yourself and realize that you were okay. But it had never been this bad before. He wasn’t going through what you were. It was easy for him to find his calm, he could still see.

“The bounty… what happened? What did he do to me?” You settled for, working yourself up as your brain reeled for an answer, an explanation, any morsel of a solution.

“Easy princess,” Boba said from across the room. “Take it one step at a time, comin’ outta Carbonite isn’t as easy as taking a clam from a Gungan.”

Carbonite… you could vaguely piece together a memory of fighting. Some slimy bounty you and Din had picked up as a side job on your way to Tatooine to visit with your friends in Mos Espa. What was supposed to be a standard grab-and-go mission had turned complicated fast.

“You held your own,” Din’s voice said above you, no doubt watching you try to remember. “He caught us by surprise and managed to kick you back into a carbonite freezer. There was no way you could’ve seen him coming.”

As he said it, the memories came back to you. Stalking around a dark warehouse beside your Mandalorian, lights scanning for any sign of movement. You’d heard a clang come from beside you, and before you could alert your partner that you were going to check it out, you’d been knocked against a metal container. You were able to process hissing sounds as your head stopped spinning, and as you shouted back out to Din, you watched him tearing to get to you before everything went cold.

“How… how long was I in there?” you tried quietly.

“A few hours at the most,” Fennec answered. “Mando reached out to us pretty quickly, and as Daimyo of Mos Espa, getting clearance wasn’t an issue. When we got there, Djarin was rooted to the spot next to you with a dead Trandoshan not too far off.”

“We thought it’d be best if we defrosted you here at the palace,” Boba chimed in. “Give you time to acclimate without rushing you outta there.” Then there was a familiar gurgle, small noises that went directly to your heart. “And give the little one a chance to run around.”

“But he’s been too worried about you to go anywhere,” Din reasoned softly. It was hard to tell if your eyes were still open, but you could feel the tears coming nonetheless at the thought of Grogu waiting patiently beside you.

“Can I..” You wanted to ask if you could see him, but that seemed like a redundant question. “Where is he?” You heard the hesitant thump of Boba’s boots against the metal floor as he approached you.

“Hold out your hands, mesh’la,” Din urged, releasing your hand while keeping you close. You did as he said, and before you could ask why, you felt a familiar weight being set in your arms.

There were little hands on your cheeks and Grogu’s familiar gurgle of attempted words that were usually matched with his little toothy grin… What little restraint you had was shattered, and you felt the tears welling up in your eyes, and start to roll down your cheeks where they collided with your foundling’s fingers. Din pulled you closer as you cried, and you curled into him with Grogu in tow.

“Why can’t I see, Din?” you whispered, and you heard how broken your voice sounded. It at least matched the way you felt; broken.

“Carbonite takes its toll,” Boba started, and you felt Din’s body make a small, quick movement. You could only guess that he’d snapped his head up at the daimyo’s dramatic choice of words. “I just mean that there are usually side effects… but I’ve seen people come outta carbonite after weeks and turn out just fine.”

“So… how long will it take me to get my vision back?” you choked, trying to put a stop to the stream of emotions that continued falling as you listened around you. Din’s leather-clad hands rubbing soothing patterns into your back was definitely helping on that front. “If I get it back.”

“Don’t say that,” your Mandalorian’s firm voice countered. “You weren’t in there long. Your body will recover.”

“He’s right,” Fennec piped up. Not being able to see where your party stood in the room was proving to be a strange sensation, figuring out where the speaker was in the room proving to be its own mental sport. “Unfortunately, there’s no way to tell when it will wear off. Carbonite affects everyone differently, so we could be waiting a few hours, a few days, a few weeks... It depends on how your body reacts.”

There was a heavy silence in the room as Fennec’s words settled, forcing you to come to terms with the reality of the situation, and how little you could plan around it.

Din, surprisingly, was the first to break the silence.

“I’ll be here by your side each step of the way,” he started, his serious tone reassuring, backing up the weight of his promise.

Unsurprisingly, Din kept his word.

In the days that followed, Din was with you every moment possible. He was there to help you up in the mornings, tender touches and slow movements in the private quarters your clan of three took up in the palace. His hands rarely left you as he helped you maneuver around the space, and had endless amounts of patience as you worked together to get through the day.

Grogu definitely took a little bit to adjust. He was used to you picking him up and smothering him in affection too many times throughout the day to count. Now you often felt him at your feet, making soft sounds as he asked for you to lift him up. But when he started to understand that you couldn’t see him, his response broke your heart.

Each morning Din would put Grogu in your arms, and without fail, those little hands would find your cheeks right before you would feel a strange sensation course through your body… He was trying to use his powers to heal you, much like you had seen him do with Din in the past. You wouldn’t let him do it for so long that he would tire himself out, but the two of you entertained his efforts – at the very least to make him feel better, but also to see if it would even work.

In staying by your side, Din took to showering with you, too. Trying to convince him you could handle it was followed immediately by fumbling with the soaps until they clattered to the floor, and Din was knocking on the fresher door in moments. It was kind of amusing, at first, when he would step in behind you and you could hear the clang of the water against his helmet.

Amidst the confusion and the disorientation of your lack of sight, the silver lining had been the day Din fully realized how much he could get away with when you couldn’t see him. Your entire relationship you kept your eyes shut tight – or left the room altogether – when Din removed his helmet, honoring his creed. But now he could go without it whenever he so chose… as long as it was in the confines of your room.

Waking up to his soft kisses had been a warm welcome, one that was met with his enthusiastic affection scattered across your face. “We should do this more often,” he sighed, making you laugh against him as he kissed your cheek, the scratch of his facial fair tickling your skin.

You grew accustomed to roaming your hands around his body so you could navigate to his soft curls, combing through his hair and massaging his scalp with your nails. You mapped the planes of his face with your lips, traced his pouted ones with your fingertips… and by the Maker, you were basking in the sound of his voice without the vocoder filtering it through his helmet. You could hear his smile when he spoke, could hear even the smallest huff of amusement his helmet usually kept from being audible, and his comforting tone wrapped you in a warmth you wanted to stay in forever.

…

“Mesh’la,” you heard as you slowly came into consciousness. You gave Din a sleepy smile as he peppered kisses over your cheeks, the scratch of his mustache tickling your skin. “Someone’s here to see you early this morning,” he whispered, and you felt his side of the bed shift as he sat up. You kept your eyes closed through the whole process, like you did every morning, wanting to soak up the softness of your little family for just a little bit longer before facing the disappointment of not being able to see anything.

In the last week, there was… some improvement. You knew you should be grateful for any steps forward your condition was taking, even if they were slim, but after the first few days, it just became exhausting. You could make out the vague shapes of the figures around you, and you could tell the difference between light and dark, but that was about it. Din had been ecstatic when you reached out for him that first morning, his excitement growing each time you turned towards him as he leaned in to give you a kiss.

You just wanted to see again.

When Din’s weight returned to the bed – your eyes still closed – he brought with him a familiar bundle that was set directly on your stomach. Grogu didn’t wait for your hands to find him before he was crawling clumsily up your body, and you shared in Din's laughter as you each gave him a hand to help him to his destination.

“Well good morning to you too, little one,” you smiled, pleasantly surprised by your foundling’s newfound eagerness to get started with the day. “You must be hungry if you’re wanting to get this over with so quickly.” There was only a babble in response as he situated himself on your chest, and you could just imagine him reaching his little hands out to make it to your cheeks without losing his balance.

Din grunted as he shifted, this time getting up off of the bed, no doubt to go tend to make Grogu something to eat before it got past the point of no return. And yet, when his little hands finally reached you, there was no urgency. With your eyes still closed, you focused closely on the feeling that began spreading through your body, breathing deeply when the familiar feeling of weightlessness his powers brought you relaxed your muscles.

The soft clanking of dishes from the living area of your room in the palace brought you back to the present, which meant that it was time to start moving through your day, and giving Grogu a chance to rest after using his powers once again. You opened your eyes as you sat up, hoisting Grogu up with you and returning the little smile that spread across his cheeks…

His smile. You could see it.

You could see.

“Hi baby,” you whispered, your throat suddenly feeling very constricted as you took in the sight of your foundling. His big, dark eyes bore into you as his ears perked up at the attention he hadn’t seen from you in so long. He gurgled happily as he used his grip on your cheeks to encourage you to lean forward, pressing his little forehead against yours.

You heard Din’s broken voice say your name, speaking softly as if he was scared to break whatever trance he was in. Without thinking, you lifted your head from Grogu’s and turned to look in his direction, and for a moment you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

Din stood frozen in place when he met your gaze, his warm brown eyes speaking a thousand words that would never pass his lips. His dark curls that you had felt so many times sat in a mess atop his head, matching the scruff and facial hair that decorated his golden skin. The prominent nose you had felt was more handsome than you could have ever imagined, the pouty pink lips you had traced time and time again as inviting as ever.

You had imagined this moment a thousand times, thought of every possible situation or turn of events that might ever lead to seeing your Mandalorian without his helmet. Your worst fear was that it would be an accident – like it was now – and that his expression turning into disappointment, anger, or something worse that would mean he wanted nothing more to do with you.

But the face looking back at you had nothing but anticipation and adoration written across his striking features.

“Mesh’la…” you whispered, trying the Mando’a endearment on your tongue. The corners of his lips began to turn up in a tentative smile, and the sight you had just gotten back started to blur with the water flooding your eyes. “Beautiful… Din, you’re beautiful,” you sobbed. The last thing you saw was Din rushing to your side, quick to wrap his arms around you and kiss the top of your head as you closed your eyes once more, letting the happy tears flow freely across your cheeks.

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

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #anonymous request #thanks for requesting shit from me #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the book of boba fett #boba fett #fennec shand #carbonite sickness #carbonite #angst #din djarin angst

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gatorbites-imagines · 5 months

Note

Boba Fett w gun play? I feel like he’d definitely appreciate a reader who knows his way around a blaster haha.

Boba Fett x male reader

headcanons

I can imagine Boba likes a partner who knows their way around any weapon. This is bounty hunter Boba, before he ends up in the sarlacc. I just think Boba being so turned on by his partner being dangerous is so Mandalorian.

You were a fellow bounty hunter, your specialty was force users and the highly skilled. This didn’t mean you just hunted Jedi, but all force users, and by God were you good at it.

You and Boba met when put on the same bounty, some extremely skilled warlord that ruled an entire cluster of planets. Working together you guys were able to take him down, and Boba got the first glance of how skilled you were with a blaster.

After that you two became allies, then friends, and then lovers. It was a slow process, as bounty hunters don’t trust easy, especially other bounty hunters. But Boba was younger at the time, and cockier than he is in the future, so he doesn’t give up.

Even before you guys started dating, seeing you fight always left him feeling heated and hot blooded, his codpiece fitting uncomfortably with how hard it made him to see you flip your blaster in and out of its holster and switch to a different weapon.

He knew he was head over heels when you pointed a blaster in one of the gaps in his armor, digging it into his flightsuit and leaving a mark, threatening to kill him right then and there. And instead of fear, he felt like he was gonna burst inside his flightsuit.

It was better than any adult entertainment for Boba to see you cleaning your blasters. To see you take them apart piece by piece, clean them up, and click it back together again, always had him panting to himself.

It takes a bit for you to realize just what kind of effect you have on Boba. Because of his cockier attitude and just being younger than he is in the Mandalorian series, hes got a higher drive and is more grabby.

It’s not unusual for Boba to come up behind you and squeeze your hips and ass, or for him to say all kinds of dirty things over comms during bounties. But he is especially twitchy and antsy when you show off.

It hits you just how much he likes it when he walks into your shared room to see you sitting there in nothing but your boxers, trying to fix a jam in one of your blasters, and he turns right on his heel to march into the fresher to get off.

Even when he comes back out of the fresher without his armor, he still stares a little too intensely when you finally fix the blaster. If he hadn’t just gotten off, Boba would probably have popped a stiffy again.

From then on you start to show off on purpose, using a blaster when you don’t actually need too, or maybe handling your weapons a little more lewdly.

Like, theres no reason for you to lick one of your knives, or use spit to clean up a spot on your blaster, but you do it anyways, just to see Boba start shuffling around, trying to be subtle about how hard it makes him.

Boba would realize you had him figured out pretty damn fast, because you make a habit out of staring him in the eyes when you are cleaning up the barrel of your blasters with a rag, making sure it gets real clean and shiny.

Neither of you really say anything, and maybe that’s a problem that comes with you both being younger adrenaline hungry bounty hunters, as you guys don’t discuss kink a whole lot either.

One day when you guys are getting steamy, nothing too extreme, just Boba pressed up against the wall, his codpiece off, and flight suit opened, one of your hands twisting and jerking his length, you put your blaster into the mix.

With your other hand, you press the cold barrel of the blaster against his cock, making Boba’s eyes shoot open and immediately look down, his noises growing louder and hungrier, his hips twitching, and pupils blown huge.

He ends up cumming all over your blaster, which you just tsk about and complain about, but you both know its just all for show.

Sometimes to make Boba more desperate, you don’t even have to use the blaster in any way. It just being visible on your belt as him awake and aware, you pretty much pavlov him to get a stiffy when you walk around in little clothes and your blaster on you.

One of Boba’s favorite things you do, is when you make him hold your blaster in his mouth. The safety is always on of course, and its never actually turned on, but it always has his eyes rolling and his cock dripping.

You probably end up with a blaster just for this, since you can’t let Boba slobber all over your actually good blasters, since it could ruin the technology. It is pretty hot to see him flatting his tongue around the barrel like he’s sucking you off though, so sometimes you’ll use your favorite blaster on him.

When he’s older, after the sarlacc, he still has a thing for blasters, and just weapons in general. If you end up allowed to use a garderffii stick by the Tuskens, it gets him as hot and bothered as your blasters used to do in your younger years.

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joyfullyart · 1 year

Text

The hanged man bound by the Creed

I’m baffled how beautiful this turned out to be. This is my love letter for @ryehouses and her fanfic “a simple thing”. I poured my heart and soul into this piece and I hope you will appreciate. I was also thinking it can be a fanart for the season 3 but the series goes the different way. Not gonna lie, I was little bit sad about that. Hoewer this is exactly why fan works exist. The story is set up after the season 2 before the BoBF was released.

Now I will dive more into the details of making this painting.

The whole idea was to show Din’s struggles and emotions through his journey in this story. “The Hanged Man” is the card of sacrifice that is needed to move forward, as a representation of righting a past wrongdoing or just steadying himself before moving forward. To reevaluate and learn to live with the new Way. And that’s exactly what this story is about. Din is dar’manda, he removed his helmet, he is not mandalorian anymore, his covert shunned him. He has a saber he doesn’t want. Without the kid everything is meaningless. He has nowhere to go, so he just sinks more and more into depression. But Boba is there, steady as a mountain. He helps Din to understand himself, he sets him on his new path, the new Way he can walk.

The hammer in the corner is the covert. The shame and guilt Din feels when his alor’s and brother’s judgement falls on his head, strong as beskar.

The figure with the darksaber is Tarre Vizsla, the first Mand’alor representing Din’s future with the weapon, the heavy searing burden.

The blue flow is the Force. It is like a cloud, a mist that drifts from living creature to creature, set in motion by currents and eddies.

Lastly, there is a castle basking in the Tatooines suns, representing Boba Fett. His strong presence, Din’s safe space.

I was inspired by @penumbra_cosplay photo shoot and use them as a reference for the pose, so please check them out!

And the whole style is inspired by Alfons Mucha’s paintings.

To those who read all of this, I thank you. I was a journey! Love you and see you next time. 💜

#JoyfullyArt #digital art #art #artists on tumblr #art blog #procreare #fanart #the mandalorian #din djarin #the book of boba fett #boba fett #shibari #bobadin #art noveau #yea I ship them #i love them #ast

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captainkirkk · 9 months

Text

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

fill in the blanks by mindshelter

"You?” Tim blurts. Holy shit. “You’re Kon?”

A nod. “Are you in any pain?” he asks again.

Kon’s skin is sun-kissed, cheekbones dusted with a fine smattering of freckles; he is, without exaggeration, the prettiest person Tim has ever seen. “No, I’m—great,” he says, fidgeting. “Do you, uh, come here often?”

Kon raises a brow. “To the medbay?” he intones. “Definitely more often than I’d prefer."

Fault Line by sElkieNight60 (+ podfic)

Part 1 of Tectonics

"You’re invulnerable…” he whispers, but it’s clear that fact falters in his mind.

Confusion writes its way into the lines on Conner’s face and Clark takes a step back as though physically pushed.

“You’re not invulnerable.”

It is a statement, dull like stone.

“N-no, sir.”

— 🦸 —

OR: Conner's not as invincible as Clark thought. Suddenly, he's a lot more human.

Danny Phantom x DC

The Business of Family by Spaced_Ace

Jazz remembered the way their parents loomed in the living room as they’d laid out that verdict. Ever-present weapons gleaming, standing in such a way that they blocked access to both the front and back entrances. Their eyes had been what struck her the most of that horrible tableau. What made her stomach fill with jagged stones and drenched her back in a frigid sweat. The way they looked at her little brother, their gazes cold and hollow and -

Hungry.

(Things are not well in Amity Park.

With the GIW getting more and more aggressive and their parents becoming ever more suspicious of Danny each day that passes, Jazz knows that they're running out of time. It's not safe, and their options are painfully limited. Out of sheer dumb luck or a little intervention from Clockwork, she manages to discover a distant relative that just might be their salvation.

If asked Oswald Cobblepot would say that it's just good business. Adopting a few kids had done wonders for Bruce Wayne's reputation, why not his? It's not like he can't afford to put them somewhere out of the way if they get to be a problem. It's just business. Nothing more.

(His soft heart says otherwise))

The Witcher

Words of Love by ForestWren

"I should warn you,” Jaskier said between kisses in the soft darkness of the shed, “That I know some… very interesting people. You may want to avoid meeting them.”

“I’ve dealt with the Redenian court for decades. Your friends can’t be worse than that.”

Five times Radovid meets Jaskier's friends and family, plus one time they are alone.

Star Wars x The Mandalorian

Master Skywalker: The Absolute Worst by PrinceJakeFireCake

"Din got to his feet. He patted Boba on the shoulder affectionately.

“You should watch the recording of Skywalker fighting the death troopers,” he said, then pressed a kiss to Boba’s cheek and told Grogu to stop eating his blocks.

Boba watched the recording. He was pretty sure he would never be the same again. He was positive that he never wanted to meet Skywalker ever again.”

Boba Fett falls for Luke Skywalker. It isn’t the funnest thing he’s ever done.

Original Works

Call Me Menace by wingedcat13

You, Synovus, are a respectably terrifying supervillain. Your main rivals, a pair of superheroes named Legionnaire and Athena, are actually respectable as heroes. You hate having to stoop to kidnapping their child - but you hate more what the kid's behavior implies.

if it don't hurt now (just wait a while) by quandaries_and_contradictions

Part 27 of mage in a wolf pack

When the hunters first take him, Jaime knows everything will be okay.

He’s scared, of course. He wants his mom and dad and little sister. But he knows it’s going to be okay — because the wolves who protect his town will come for him. Lada’s mother and father and papa won’t let the hunters get away with this. All he has to do is hold on until they get here.

Months later, he's not so sure.

Stranger Things

No One Rides For Free by weird_witchcraft

"Are you okay Harrington?” Eddie asks gently, “Need me to get anyone?”

“No one to get,” replies Steve, so soft Eddie barely catches it. “You think I want anyone seeing me like this?”

Eddie Munson stumbles across Steve Harrington crying next to a bush at Tina's party and makes it his mission to cheer him up.

Clone Wars

mirci't be uja by ihathbenobiwankenobied for whitchry9

Obi-Wan is usually good at keeping track of his blood sugar levels–because he has to be–but this time, it’s out of his control.

(Or, a diabetic Obi-Wan is thrown for a loop after crashing on an unknown planet. Stim does his best to keep his General alive)

#hopefully this makes your monday a bit better #weekly fic round up #my posts #sw recs #original works recs #stranger things recs #dc recs #dp recs #witcher recs #fic recs

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dindjarindiaries · 4 months

Text

Bloodlust (Part Nine)

summary: You and Din return to Boba Fett’s palace and to your normal lives, adjusting to the new but pleasant change this job has given you.

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

warnings: mild smut, strong language, fluff, sexual references, food & depictions of eating

rating: M

word count: 4.485k

masterlist ⟹ part one

You look up from where you’ve been tying off your boot to watch as Din puts on his last piece of beskar—aside from his helmet. He’s testing all the pieces now, gently rotating his vambraces and easing each weapon into its appropriate place. The smile tugging at your lips is instinctive, especially after going so long without seeing him in his armor.

Sure, it’s covering up a tempting view, but if you’re being honest with yourself, it’s just as alluring on its own. For a moment, you study his shoulder pauldron and remember his wound underneath it, but the memory of you wrapping it just an hour or so ago brings a wave of relief. Hopefully, the weight of the metal isn’t too much on the blaster burn.

Din catches your eye from the hold, the corners of his mouth also tugging upward in a smile as he makes his way over to you. His gloved hand rises to your chin as you remain seated in your chair. His sparkling brown gaze reflects the blue lights of hyperspace as he searches your eyes.

You speak up before he has the chance to. “You were right.”

Din lifts an eyebrow. “That’s nothing new.” The amusement in his tone makes you huff as the furrow in his brow becomes more serious. “But what did I get right this time?”

Your hand covers his vambrace and runs along the metal. You remain cautious, so as to not accidentally activate any weapons, and let your fingertips trace and dips and curves in the hand-crafted metal. “You’re just as beautiful with your beskar on.”

Din’s gaze softens, his cheeks turning a light shade of red. “Beautiful?” You hum and nod. Din shrugs and looks away, his jaw circling in shyness. “I… don’t remember saying that.”

“It was something along those lines.” You’re the one who reaches for his face now, and you hold it as you urge him to look at you again. “I added my own twist to it.”

Din’s gloved hands gently hold your wrists. “Yeah?”

You slowly blink at him and nod. “Yeah.”

One of Din’s hands slides to the back of your neck, urging the two of you closer together until his mouth’s on yours. The kiss is slow and passionate, taking its time as if the ship won’t drop out of hyperspace at any moment. He tilts your head back more to deepen it, his mouth feeling every inch of your own like he’s savoring it. You’re just as eager and hungry for him, knowing that once your ship’s on dry land, Din’s helmet will keep you from seeking what you’ve been able to have freely this past week.

The two of you only pull apart when your lungs begin to burn for air. Din’s forehead rests against your own, his eyes still closed as he chuckles to himself. “I remember now.” His voice is rough from his lack of air, but his tone is soft. “I thought I’d be bolder in my armor.” Din opens his eyes and raises his brow. “Turns out it’s you who’s bolder with my armor on.”

You shrug and laugh. “We’ll see once that helmet goes on.”

“Right.” Din lifts his head from yours, though the movement is slow, as if he’s pushing against an invisible force to separate himself from you. He finds the helmet that sits in the hold and tightens his jaw. “I never thought I’d want to keep it off.”

You find his gloved hands and thread your fingers through his. “Well, a lot’s changed in the past week.”

Din’s gaze finds yours again. He tilts his head and gives it a shake. “No, nothing’s changed.” He steps close enough to press a kiss to your forehead. “The truth’s just finally come out.”

You beam and shake your head in shyness. Din walks back towards the hold and you stand from your chair to follow him. He takes his helmet between his hands and faces you. His brown eyes instantly give you a once-over, and you do the same to yourself. The corners of your mouth curl up in a devious smile. “Really?”

Din blinks a few times, snapping himself out of a daze. “What?”

You cross your arms and shift your weight to one hip. “After all those revealing outfits I had to wear this week, and it’s my tactical gear that does it for you?”

Din tucks his helmet under one arm and raises his free hand towards you. “Hey.” He gestures to himself. “Did you not just do the same to me?”

You fight the urge to smile. “That’s different.”

Din chuckles. “No, cyar’ika, it’s not.”

You relax again and blink at him sweetly, closing the distance between you and setting a hand on his cuirass. “Are you telling me ‘no,’ my love?”

Din takes a visible and audible deep breath, his jaw flexing in his private struggle. He lifts his helmet towards his head. “You’re lucky I’m more stubborn than you.” Din lowers the beskar over his head, concealing his face from view for the first time since your mission began a week ago.

Despite losing the view of his face, you can’t help beaming at the familiar look of his helmet. Din’s certainly a handsome man underneath the metal, but it was this look that you fell in love with long ago. Your hands hold his beskar face as you urge the metal to kiss your forehead.

Din’s hands hold your elbows. “I guess you’re okay with this view, too?” His modulated voice sends a sweet rush of nostalgia through you.

You nod. “More than okay.” You press a kiss to the T-shape of his visor. Din gives your elbows a gentle squeeze in silent response. “The voice is a plus.”

Din chuckles at that. His gloved fingers slide up your arms, beginning a gentle exploration over your shoulders and down your sides. “Is that what does it for you?”

You don’t break your gaze with his visor. “It always has.”

Din hums, the sound crackling through his modulator. “If your mouth wasn’t so tempting,” he lifts a hand to run his thumb over your lips, “I’d have a suggestion to make.”

Your brow lifts as a familiar knot ties low in your stomach. “I’m still listening.”

As if the galaxy’s plotted against you, the ship drops out of hyperspace. Din tilts his helmet and pats your cheek with his hand. “Another time.”

You exhale to push the frustration aside before you and Din head back to your seats in the cockpit. As Din lowers the ship towards what’s now Boba Fett’s palace, you can’t help smiling to yourself at the memory of your first descent a week ago. It feels like eons ago, but at the same time, it feels like no time’s passed at all. If only you had known then what you know now.

Once you fully land inside Boba’s hangar, Din powers down the ship and stands. He waits for you to do the same, his gloved hand finding your lower back the same way it has this entire week—as if Din doesn’t even have to think about making the motion. “Ready?”

You nod at him, beaming endlessly as he walks forward and takes both your packed bags in his arms. The two of you are instantly met by Boba and Fennec, similarly to your first arrival a few days ago, and your smile gets bigger.

Seeing them again lets the normalcy of your life before this job sets in. For as many good things as you got out of this job, you got just as many that were bad, and having a reminder of your normal life is nothing short of relieving. You and Din had certainly made the most of it, but now you can have all the good things you want: the familiar grittiness of your day-to-day life spent right by Din’s side.

“There they are.” Boba’s voice is a warm announcement as he opens his arms towards the two of you. “I was beginning to think you may never come back.”

You laugh at that, fighting any embarrassment the best you can. You’re suddenly jealous Din’s helmet hides his own for him. “I mean, the luxury of it all was nice,” you respond.

“Well, it sounds like you two fit right in.” Fennec smiles, a knowing expression painted on her face, as two of Boba’s staff—including the same Twi’lek woman who had helped you before—step forward to take the bags from Din.

“Thank you for your help.” Boba nods in respect. “What you’ve done for us is invaluable.”

“No need.” Din nods back. “As I said before, you helped us to get the kid back.” Din shifts his weight, and this time, it’s even harder to resist comforting him. “We’ll always be at your disposal.”

Boba offers one more nod to acknowledge his words. “I believe this calls for celebration, then.” He gestures with his arm behind him. “Follow me.”

Boba and Fennec lead the way up to the throne room. As you walk, you glance up at Din, your worry for him still instilled in you as you bring yourself close enough to his side to whisper to him. “Are you okay?”

Din turns his helmet to look at you. “Yeah.” His hand finds your lower back again, his helmet tilting at you. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You give him a once-over, hesitant to make him more upset. “Grogu.”

Din’s armored chest stalls for a moment, but he taps your back in reassurance anyway. “We can talk about it later.” His thumb runs over your back, and despite the layers of your tactical gear, you can feel the motion as if it was right upon your skin. “But don’t be worried. I’m all right.”

You search his visor the best you can. “Promise?”

Din nods dutifully. “Promise.”

You nod, content to believe him for now as you face the way ahead again. Din’s hand falls from your back, and as reluctant as you are to no longer feel his touch, you know it’s the best thing to do in this situation. You’re not the least bit ashamed of your relationship with Din, but the last thing you need to do is flaunt it.

When you arrive at the throne room, there’s already a lavish table set up with a massive feast, certainly more than the four of you could ever dream of consuming in one sitting. You huff as you take your place next to Din at the table. “Looks like we’re not done with luxury just yet.”

“It’s the least we can do to thank you.” Boba removes his helmet and smiles with appreciation. He hesitates as he looks at Din. “I know a feast may be a bit of an obstacle, but…”

“That’s all right.” You wire your jaw shut to keep it from dropping when Din lifts his helmet off his head. “One more meal won’t hurt.”

Boba and Fennec share a look, but you can only notice it out of your periphery. You can’t stop staring at Din, as if his face wasn’t just exposed to you a matter of minutes ago. He raises his brow with amusement at you.

Shit. If he’s doing this on purpose, he won’t hear the end of it later.

“In that case…” Boba takes a breath and nods towards the table. “Take your pickings, as much as you’d like.”

You manage to pry your gaze away from Din’s to face Boba with a small smile. “Thank you.” You focus on your food as you load up your plate. The heavy weight of Din’s bare gaze is like a thermal heat source, and every time he glances your way, you can feel the warmth of it on your skin.

It’s purposeful, then.

You only look up at him when you’re finishing a ronto kebab, pulling the perfectly roasted meat and flora from the stick with your teeth as your gaze never once strays from his. Din’s jaw visibly tightens as he finally looks away, but it’s not the heartiness of the meal that’s made Din’s face flush. You smile to yourself in victory—but it’s come at the cost of the knot in your stomach returning.

“So,” Fennec begins, using a tone that sends you into alert as you stop what you’re doing and look at her. “You two were truly the talk of the town during this retreat.” She kicks her legs up on the table and takes another bite of her bantha leg. “How’d you do it?”

You watch Din’s brow crease at her question. “What do you mean?”

“How should I put it?” Fennec shares a mischievous look with Boba and shrugs. “You were the ‘it’ couple.” You look down at your food and control your expression the most you can. “All our sources confirmed this.”

Din answers without being fazed. “We were new faces.” He takes a sip of his drink and returns Fennec’s shrug. “That’s what happens in those circles. They always want to know more about the people they know the least.”

“That’s true.” Fennec smiles to herself. “We didn’t realize you two worked so well together.”

Working well together is a damn understatement, but you stop that line of thinking before it can bring on memories that are too dangerous to share in a place such as this. Din looks at you, and you nod at him before looking at Fennec. “Well, we’ve been partners for a long time now.”

“Ah, yes.” Boba’s the one who speaks up now, leaning back in his chair as he looks at Fennec. “I wonder how well we would’ve fared if it were us.”

Fennec tilts her head. “Not nearly as well as them.”

Din exhales gently. “Performances aside,” he cuts his gaze over to you, “let’s make sure the business side is all clear.”

“Certainly.” Boba crosses his arms and nods at Din. “Your intel has already proven to be very helpful. I hadn’t been aware the Hutt twins were… well, let’s just say displeased with my new position.”

“We’ve strengthened our fortifications,” Fennec adds. “Thanks to your warning, we’re now prepared for any kind of force they might try to send our way.”

Din nods at that. “Good. I’m glad we were of use to you.”

Boba and Fennec exchange a look before Boba speaks again. “We were, however, curious as to what your ‘unfinished business’ was.”

Din furrows his brow. “Pardon?”

Boba’s gaze slides over to you. “The last time we were in contact, you referenced some ‘unfinished business.’”

You scoff and take a long sip from your drink. “Let’s just say being the ‘it’ couple wasn’t ideal.”

“I see.” Boba’s brow lifts in genuine concern. “I do apologize for any hardships this job may have caused.”

Din shakes his head. “Don’t worry.” He steals one quick glance at you. “It all worked out.”

You have to sip your drink again to hide your smile. You don’t miss the smile Fennec earns as she, unsurprisingly, catches on to the unspoken message. “I’m sure it had its advantages. I mean, the Cantonican Sea is an infamous place of luxury.” She crosses her arms and smiles wider. “Did you enjoy swimming?”

You nearly spit out the drink you haven’t swallowed yet, but you maintain your composure just as you’d trained yourself to do all week. Even Din has to take a break to look at his plate as he shrugs. “We… weren’t focused on recreation, swimming included.”

“Understandable, and appreciated.” Fennec lifts her cup and toasts it in your direction. “I just heard some whispers about you two and water, so… I wasn’t sure.”

You and Din share a sly look. It takes everything in you not to burst out laughing. Once the memory of your kiss in the water washes over you, though, the last thing you feel is amusement. You cross your legs and take another sip of your drink. “Well,” you begin once you’ve swallowed your drink, “like he said, we weren’t really focused on recreation, but we did have to enter the water to keep up our act.”

“Yes, of course.” Boba answers this time, nodding to emphasize his understanding.

“And you’re right, Fennec.” You don’t look at Din, trying not to make it too obvious for them to figure out, but you do enjoy watching him shift in his chair as you go on. “The waters were simply luxurious.”

Fennec hides her smile with her cup. “I can imagine.”

“All in all, it really was a nice little vacation.” You gesture with your head over to Din. “And we got shit done.” You raise your drink. “Looks like it was a win for everyone.”

“Indeed,” Boba agrees as everyone lifts their drinks with you. The toast ends, and as soon as you and Din both clearly prepare to depart—with Din having slid his helmet on once again—the Twi’lek woman from before enters the throne room in a rush.

“Lord Fett,” she announces, cutting a nervous glance at you and Din, “something’s missing from each of the bags.”

You go stiff at Din’s side, your thumb circling the ring that’s still around your finger. Boba just looks at the two of you with a hardly concealed smile. “I know.” He lifts a reassuring hand in her direction. “That’s all right.”

The Twi’lek offers him a confused look, but she steps away anyway. You and Din glance at each other, and the smile that overtakes your lips cannot be stopped.

“Well,” Boba sighs, despite the smile on his own lips, “enjoy your nuptials.” He gestures with both hands to you and Din. “Consider those a gift for the occasion.”

Din just nods at his friend in gratitude, likely too embarrassed about being caught to say anything. You just chuckle and join him in wishing Boba and Fennec a proper farewell. Din sets his hand on your back as the two of you leave, and you can feel the warmth of their stares on your back.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, Din tilts his helmet. “Damn.” He looks over at you. “I really thought we were gonna get away with it.”

You finally release the laugh you’ve been holding, letting your head fall against his arm. Your hands meet and your fingers lace through his own. “I guess subtlety really isn’t our specialty.” You lift your entwined hands and kiss his gloved knuckles. “Even when we’re not acting.”

Din gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “We were never truly acting, cyar’ika.”

You beam at him, resting your head against his arm again. “You’re right.”

The rest of your walk back to the ship is spent in silence, though it’s contemplative. The space between you is as humid as the air before a storm, with something electric brewing there. You know it’ll overpower both of you as soon as you get the ship into the air.

These thoughts make it a blur as you board the ship and help Din to get it running. You have no idea what Din’s set as your next destination, and quite frankly, you don’t care. All you can think about is waiting until you’re safely in hyperspace to stand and make your way over to him, letting him swivel in his chair to face you before you hold the lip of his helmet in your hand.

“So,” you begin, your voice soft and sweet as you go on, “what the hell was that all about?”

Din’s gloved fingers drum along his armored thighs. “What do you mean?” Din’s modulated voice is just as soft, proving he does, in fact, know what the hell that was all about.

“It seemed like you got quite a rise back there out of me having to see your face.” You run your thumb over his visor and lift your brow. “Is that true?”

Din tilts his helmet, his hands rising to meet your waist. “Well, that depends on how it actually made you feel.”

“Yeah?” You make yourself comfortable, easing yourself upon him until his armor chest is against your own. “Should I show you, then?”

Din’s hands travel around you, securing themselves much closer to your back and thighs. “It might be easier than using your words.”

You wrap your arms around his neck. “I agree.”

With that, Din stands, easily taking you with him as you wrap your ankles around each other to help you stay around his waist. Neither he nor you are patient enough to wait until you’re further back in the hold, and Din sets your back against the first wall he can find, his body content to hold you in place. He frees a hand from you to grab his helmet, but you stop him, holding his wrist as you give his helmet a once-over.

“Wait.” Your voice is breathless in your desire as you bite back a smile. “Keep it on.”

Din tilts his helmet. “I’m not sure I can resist you, cyar’ika.”

“Let’s at least try.” You hold his helmet between your hands. “I fell in love with this face, too.” Your fingers trace down his beskar until you take a hold of his cowl, tugging it down enough for you to get access to the warmth of his neck. “Didn’t you have a suggestion about this, anyway?” Your breath fans over his skin. “Might as well try it out.”

Din exhales, a trembling breath that becomes a sigh once your lips latch onto his neck. “Damn, you’re convincing.”

You smile against his skin, continuing your sweet attack on him as he easily gets the two of you into place. For as new as some of this is, it’s already become easy for you to learn each other, with every movement being perfectly purposeful and breathtakingly gentle. You’re content to remain buried in the warmth of Din’s neck and to hear the pleasured breaths falling from underneath his helmet until he consumes every last sense and nerve ending in your body.

That’s all it takes to make you want to fall apart in the sweetest way. You stay buried where you are for now, but your lips part only to spell out your pleasure to Din in a way you could never comprehend—but that’s enough for him.

“Yeah, cyar’ika,” Din pants, the metal of his helmet resting upon your head as if he’s trying to bury himself in you, too. “I feel it, too.”

You strengthen your resolve and tighten your grasp around him, lifting your lips to his skin again as you kiss it the way you would his lips. Anything else you have to say, or at least would say if your body wasn’t already speaking for you, remains a hum against his hot skin.

“Atta’ girl,” Din rasps, if his voice can even be called that. It’s rough in the way you’ve only heard in moments like these, sweet yet forced through the tightness of his throat you can feel underneath your lips. “That’s…” he has to pause to speak to you the same way you’ve been speaking to him, “shit, that’s perfect.”

His words make you never want to stop, but your actions are fueling him in a way that makes your resolve crumble in the most pleasing way. The more it intensifies, the less you can keep yourself in place, and soon you break apart to lift your head and cry out for him. You at least manage to stay close for now, your forehead finding his helmet as you ground yourself to him.

As if he isn’t already grounding himself to you in the most beautiful and utterly perfect way.

But you need more. It’s hard to imagine how you can handle it, but you grasp onto whatever you can get. Your hands at the back of his neck find loose strands of hair that you take a hold of, tugging tight but only in a way you know he can handle. When Din finds your most perfect place, your head falls back to meet the metal behind you, your body trying to both stay as close as possible and also distance itself from what should be an unattainable pleasure.

That’s when Din breaks. “Fuck.” He lifts a hand from you to tear off his helmet in one smooth movement, the beskar hitting the floor and rolling away carelessly. His lips are on yours a moment later, each intelligible word and sound you have for one other being passed on from each touch of your tongue as you become one in the way the stars themselves surely intended.

It’s not long after that you at last fall apart, and Din soon does the very same. Each heavy breath you take against his lips is another sweet pleasure, your mind trying to fight through the haze of your love so you can focus on the golden flecks of light that enter Din’s gaze the more you return from your place in the stars. Your shared heaven, however, isn’t an easy place to escape, and so you wait with your forehead against his own for him to help you back to reality.

“So,” Din’s first word is a pure rasp, his voice now roughened from the way he’s sweetly abused it, “where do you want to get married?”

You can’t help laughing at that, shaking your head as you kiss him. “How about wherever the hell we land next?”

Din smiles and chuckles with you. “Sounds perfect.”

Your hands, which lost themselves in his hair the moment he tore his helmet from his head, continue to move through his brown waves in consideration. Din’s lips are already red and swollen from your sweet connection, his hair mussed from both your handiwork and his helmet. He’s flushed in the most perfect way, and you’re certain you don’t look much different.

And to think just a week ago, you weren’t sure if he’d even be able to pretend he thought of you as anything more than a business partner.

“So much for what happens on the job stays on the job, right?” You smile at him, recalling the words he’d said the moment you first flew into Canto Bight.

“Right.” Din returns your smile before his lips brush against yours. “Fuck that.”

With that, he captures your mouth with his again, an addictive yet beautiful display of affection that says more than those simple three words ever could—and promises so much more for the future you’ll finally have together.

masterlist ⟹ part one

#the final part! at last! i hope it was worth the wait :)#thank you for all the love on this miniseries! <3 #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #bloodlust #dindjarindiaries

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