The Mandalorian X Reader - Blog Posts

𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 ;; din djarin

Pairing; Din Djarin x gn!Reader

outline —; Peaceful times with Din Djarin were rare. You relish it.

word count —; 1.1k

WARNINGS —; none.

tags / themes —; reader and din are married, grogu (sweetly) interrupting a moment.

A/N —; *comes back with a massive stars wars obsession* hey, i write for them now. it's been a stressful couple months and i wanted to get something out for my birthday. this isn't beta-read, i just wanted to write. please be kind, thanks.

This galaxy raised warriors, heroes, and peace-keepers. Those who fought in the name of their planet, for the safety of the future, and the love they carry for their family. Those who were victims of war survived… or trained to survive, fight, and endure. 

This galaxy isn’t raised for writers, painters, and performers. Those who coped in whomever’s name, for the sanity of themselves, and possibly for the love they carried for their crafts. Of course, artists don’t only do it for themselves. They create in order to escape; and luckily enough, they don’t press themselves into the cruel hands of the galaxy. Because it isn’t built for them. 

For you, the galaxy seemed to test the waters. Warriors and Artists? Maybe those two weren’t so different, after all. Oh, how history would have written it; when the stars collide, an artist with no place in this galaxy meets a warrior who can’t find a home. Those three long years, what an adventure it has been. 

Din Djarin is a victim of war. Like yourself. There truly is a place for people like you. But whilst Din grew up with the Way, you grew up tracing the sky, seeing shapes in every landscape, and memorising the curve of someone’s face. Often asking yourself questions like; Where does the shadow fall? In which direction does the light come from? If you were simplified, which shapes best describe you? 

Din Djarin is a Mandalorian. Not like yourself. A Mandalorian. A warrior. He trained and connived his way till he stood in this solid home. He grew up hidden, so he stayed that way for a while in his life; often a mystery to the Guild. 

“Din Djarin, do not move.” You warned, tilting your head as the heat of Nevarro’s sun hit your face. The chair, in which you sat, rocked back slightly at your movements. With arms outstretched, thumb against the pencil, you held it feebly upwards, trying to calculate the proportions of the Mandalorian’s body. 

If you could see his face out in the open right now, you would’ve caught on with the fact that your husband — your riduur — was smirking. And decided to tilt his head in the opposite direction for the fun of it. You clicked your tongue in annoyance but a smile adorned your face. “I’ve been in this position for fifteen minutes, ner runi.” Din sighed softly, tapping his ungloved fingers against his forearm. 

“Fifteen minutes more.” You looked at him over the rim of your notebook, sketching away. A light fire went on above your head, face lighting up as the same smile adorned your features. “I’ll entertain you, what’s our son doing?” You asked, raising your notebook down to tilt your head at him again. 

Din chuckled at your demeanour or was it your question? You couldn’t tell, though he answered anyway. “Eating frogs.” 

“Again?” You turned to look at the side to see your son doing so; eating frogs. Entirely, it was your fault for looking away. At the time your eyes left your riduur, Din got up, breaking your focus. “Din!” You laughed as you looked back at him.

Your Mandalorian called your name with the same energy. His next words were spoken in a gentle manner, enough to capture your attention. “I’m tired,” He merely said, extending his hand to you. “Let’s be tired together.” 

You let a relieved breath. Has it always been there? You weren’t sure, though, at this moment, you let it go. You released it when settling your supplies down the chair in which you sat. You released it when you found yourself melting into Din’s hands. 

With the armour off, the world is all but noisy. The only sound prominent are frogs croaking and the gentle breeze of Nevarro’s ambience. He pulled you into his chest and laid his back against the frame of the metal door. 

Music. You could hear music, with your cheeks pressed against the warmth of his chest, and with his arms wrapped around you (and yours around Din’s waist). The world stopped, for a few moments it stopped, and you breathed. Inhale and exhale. The exhaustion left your body through that breath, and you could feel that Din breathed too. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. You could hear his gentle heart, if you listen close enough, you could practically hear his soul. What would it sound like? 

Move. Your body screamed to move, but a part of you wanted to stay like this forever. Though, the feeling caved into you, forcing your head to look at your husband’s visor. Your chin rested on his chest as you asked warily. “Can I kiss you?” 

Modulate. The Mandolorian’s helmet modulated his voice, if he answered in a chuckle, the other might receive it the wrong way. He didn’t want to move. The embrace held a significant peace, one that physically pained him when he moved a muscle. But Din didn’t speak with his brain at the moment, so he removed his helmet, and the beskar fell onto the floor beside them. 

They were in the middle of nowhere, what would you say? — All is well. — That sentence proved its point when Din held your cheeks beneath his hands, and his lips were on yours. He could feel you kiss back, he could feel your cheeks against his, he could feel the lazy smile that tugged your lips. Truly, Din wanted to open his eyes, to get a better look of you without his visor, yet somehow, he couldn’t. 

Din is tired. So tired. His shoulder gave in and melted between your arms; he didn’t know how it got there; your elbows above his shoulder, as your fingers explored his hair. But Din didn’t care, he just melted into your kiss, laughing, nearly crying over the unexpected bliss and peacefulness the day had to offer. 

His desires of staying like this with you continued to grow within each second— 

“Patu!” And then, the moment was sweetly broken. 

Your lips disconnected with a sound, pulling away the moment the sound was in ear-shot. Din’s eyes landed first on the green baby, doe eyed, ears high, and head tilted innocently. 

You saw him slurp a frog. “Grogu,” A waning smile reached your son’s lips when his name was mentioned, without warning, he jumped into your arms. Thankfully, you caught him. “That’s not nice of you. What if the frogs had parents?” You teased. 

Din chuckled beside you, kissing your temple lightly, before opening the door. “Let’s head inside.” He said while bending to get his fallen helmet. The gesture, so simple, caught you off guard. A soft, green hand held the base of your cheek and Grogu joyfully yelled with ‘‘Iek!’

Stepping inside, you looked around, almost nostalgically. This is your home. Reminded by Grogu and Din’s presence, a smile painted your lips. They are your home. “I’ll kiss you once more when he’s asleep.” He muttered before taking Grogu from your grip. 

Maybe there is a place for artists in this galaxy.

TRANSLATION(S);

riduur; spouse, husband, wife ner runi; my soul (*ner; my) (*runi; soul)

♡ PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG TO SUPPORT ME.

I had to go back to this because it was so good. It was quite confusing with the dialogues (like, which character speaks. Because, it's a nice rule; a new paragraph should be started every time a new person is speaking to avoid confusion). Overall; check this blog out, they're so cool !!

The Mandalorian and The Jedi

gif by: frodo-sam

Chapter 1 of The Unforgiving Series!

summary: It was a normal day until you met the mandalorian of your dreams (literally)

word count: 5.5k

content: din djarin x f!jedi!reader, kuiil x platonic!reader, nightmare, canon typical violence, brief mention of blood, slow burnn

a/n: wooo first chapter~~ this is my first time really fleshing out a character's motivations and creating a detailed backstory, so i hope i wrote it in a way that made you want to find out more about her :") this is the longest fic i've ever written omg... if i delayed posting this chapter any longer i could just keep editing and fixing things and it was stressing me out and i promised i'd post it today, so here it is! any feedback is greatly appreciated 🤲 if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist pls don't hesitate to tell me! anyways that's all for now! i hope u like this chapter!!

Nevarro - 9 ABY

It’s been a year since you’ve arrived here. A year since you decided to settle on a volcanic, ashen planet, called Nevarro. It wasn’t your first choice of places where you wanted to settle, it literally being a haven for bounty hunters in the Outer Rim… Nonetheless, it was relatively quiet where you were. That's what you wanted, peace and quiet — right?

In the past decade, you never had a place to call home. You were a nomad of sorts, always moving, never staying in one place for more than a year. You didn't want to deal with the possibility of forming new relationships, that was something you wanted to stay far away from. And now that you've hit the one year mark — so close to saying you've broken the one rule you've followed diligently for so long — if you said that you weren't proud of yourself, it would be a lie. 

It was definitely a hitch in your plans when you were quickly made aware of the existence of a certain neighbor of yours (your only one), when he came so far as to welcome you, as he hasn’t had a neighbor in years. Living not too far off from where you were, he had even prepared you a traditional Ugnaught dish as a gift. You were apprehensive to be on the receiving end of such a kind gesture — most people were not that kind. But your neighbor was not most people, and in your final assessment, you had deemed him not a threat as you had sensed no ill will in his actions.

The overly-friendly Ugnaught called himself Kuiil and he was a moisture farmer. A kind man that offered you work, probably after taking note of your lack of wealth upon seeing your unkempt, barely furnished home. Your work entailed making sure his farm was well kept and taking care of his blurrgs, to which you had humbly accepted. Options were limited to say the least, not unless you wanted to work at a cantina with people or even worse — do bounty work. The idea of having to join a guild did not entice you one bit. And the only person you had to be around was a nice old man, you could hardly complain.

After some months, the two of you formed a mutually beneficial relationship where Kuiil had extra help around the farm including protection — and you, a job. 

Kuiil had also made the annoyingly kind habit of checking up on your mental state. Asking you (an emotionally constipated person) how you were feeling and like routine, you would tell him that you're fine, but of course, Kuiil, a man that you've barely knew for a few months, could see right through your front and could tell when some days were tougher than others. In return for his kindness, you made sure to protect the peace that was created on his farm as well as protecting its less than amiable, beastly inhabitants.

Even after a year of being the only company the two of you had, you continued to maintain a certain level of distance from Kuiil. He knew when not to push your limits when regarding your past and you appreciated that. Despite your reserved nature, he had opened up to you about his early life and how he had been forced to spend it in servitude to the Galactic Empire. Whenever you think about what he’s been through and who he had to serve makes your blood boil with anger.

Your time on Nevarro gave you a sense of normalcy — or how you would imagine what having a normal life would be like.

And it was peaceful for a time, that is, until an influx of bounty hunters started to come through Kuiil’s place trying to hunt down a certain quarry. It got so hectic to a point that multiple bounty hunters would come by asking him for some sort of help (to which he always agreed to), it was a hindrance, really. A hindrance to your wonderful plans of living a somewhat solitary life. 

The Ugnaught had asked you once, if you could do something to help, as he had taken note of your skill, despite you not being exactly forthcoming with all of your capabilities. But you had declined. As you stated that it wasn't your problem and that the effort was simply not worth the trouble. He was not pleased with your answer, but for the most part kept his disapproval to himself.

However, if you saw another bounty hunter asking for help from your Ugnaught neighbor again, you were going to drop kick them to the next sector.

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆｡° ✩ ☼⋆｡° ✩☽︎˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆

Darkness surrounded you. The only source of light appeared from a crack in the wooden door of your closet. Heart pounding rapidly, chest heaving, helpless to stop the horrific event before you. You're on the floor, knees being held close to your chest, as you try to make yourself as small as possible. Rocking yourself back and forth in hopes that this was all a sick dream. A gloved hand begins to reach for the doorknob — and you scream.

Your eyes snap open and your body is upright in a flash, blaster already in your hand, aimed at any semblance of a threat — only to realize there is none. You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe. Repeating those familiar words to yourself as you lower the blaster. Sighing heavily as you fall back onto the bed, rubbing at your sleep deprived eyes, moonlight glistening through the crevices of your hands.

You force yourself to get out of bed and you stumble clumsily, nearly tripping over your own feet. Eventually, you make it to the bathroom to splash your face with water, soaking your long sleeve up to your elbows in the process. You grip the sink as best as you can with trembling hands while your head is down, focusing solely on your breathing in an attempt to calm your senses.

As you lift your head and look into the mirror, you shudder. You’re face to face with your 6 year old self, her eyes emotionless and her finger pointing at you in blame. Your heart seizes when you see that her face is splattered in a thickly crimson glaze — like it was melting away at her innocence from the outside in. No, no, no. You shook your head weakly, bringing your hand to cover your face as you sunk to the floor. It’s not real. It’snot real. It’snotreal.It’snotreal.It’snotreal.It’snotreal.

After some time, when the panic subsided and the shaking stopped, you will yourself to get up from the now, damp ground and prepare for yet another day ahead.

It was a normal day like any other, riding with Kuiil to check the perimeter, that is, until you found someone being attacked by a wild blurrg. Your original thought was: Oh look, it's yet another bounty hunter looking to cause trouble, but what you saw was not what you expected. 

It was a Mandalorian. 

Still, technically a bounty hunter, but it was something new.

On the outside you may have looked normal. Cold, intense stare and all, but inside — your mind was reeling, having seen this particular Mandalorian before. Not in person anyway, but in your dreams. They looked a bit different, perhaps due to the lack of silver beskar, but you couldn’t deny the similarities. On top of that, you haven't seen their kind in years, having believed the survivors were still in hiding after the Great Purge, so this had to mean something. 

You sent a look over to Kuiil in question, as if to ask, should we save them? Even though you very well knew what his answer would be.

He returned with a stern look as if to say, is that even a question, go!

You brought out your blaster instantaneously and shot the blurrg with a dart, swiftly immobilizing it. The struggling Mandalorian thanked you in between grunts while pulling himself out from underneath the wild animal. You only nodded in response, keeping your blaster at hand and it shook ever so slightly. Maker. Remnants of the nightmare still permeated your mind and it — your weakness, was displayed out in the open, to a stranger no less. Your frustration did not go unnoticed by the mercenary.

With your features hidden by the mask, due to the dusty nature of Nevarro, made it so the Mandalorian could only see your eyes. Even so, he was able to catch a glint of emotion that you tried so hard to conceal. It didn’t go unnoticed on your end either, that the eyes that bore into your intense ones were unable to tear their own gaze away.

“You are a bounty hunter,” it’s not a question, Kuiil has seen them enough times to know and it releases the Mandalorian from his trance, and he confirms. 

“I will help you. I have spoken.”

You ride off first, not dwelling on the show of weakness that you’ve just shown, but instead you roll your eyes at your oh-so-welcoming-to-bounty-hunters boss.

“Why are you always so quick to bring strangers into your home? One of these days you're gonna get yourself killed.” You give Kuiil a hushed scolding as you so often find yourself doing these days. 

“Are you alright?” He countered instead, noticing how you looked especially disheveled this morning. “Hey, don’t try and change the subject,” you chide, “But yeah. Don’t worry, I’m fine. I just… had a rough night.” You don’t explain further and he takes what he can get, responding with an unbelieving hum.

The two of you approach his home, with the Mandalorian following loosely behind and finally Kuiil replies, in jest, “If you’re so worried about my safety why don’t you stay and watch him.” 

There was no answer to that — unless you wanted to acknowledge your concern for him is anything more than what you're paid to do. To the silence, Kuiil simply says, “I have spoken.” And walks into his home with the Mandalorian following in step, who tilts his helmet your way briefly in greeting. After he enters, you lower your mask to aggressively huff a breath of air, blowing away the stray strands of hair from your face and eventually entering Kuiil’s home reluctantly.

As you speak quietly to Kuiil, the Mandalorian sits on the right side of the room, beskar covered body, crouched, due to the size of the hut. 

“If he so much as tilts his head the wrong way, I’ll shoot him.” And as you walk over to sit on the other side of the room, you feel his eyes trained on you — for reasons you are sure of to be because he somehow heard you threaten to blast him. Unbeknownst to you, he was just in awe as it was his first time seeing your unmasked face.

“Many have passed through. They seek the same one as you.” Kuiil monotony states, just as he had to the countless others before the Mandalorian.

You take this time to actually look at the armored man across the room. Taking note from earlier that instead of silver, he wore red beskar, with various weapons adorned all over his body. But the helmet remained the same as from your dream. From the diligently polished beskar helmet, to the well worn boots on his feet, you could allude that he was someone who took great pride in his culture. His energy radiated a loyal and reserved soul.

“Did you help them?” He asks, voice low and modulated.

“Yes. They died.” Well that's putting it simply, Kuiil.

The Mandalorian tilts his head in wariness, “Well, then I don’t know if I want your help.” You snicker, sensing his gaze falling onto you before Kuiil continues, “You do. I can show you to the encampment.”

“What’s your cut?” He asks as he turns back to Kuiil and he simply replies in his usual Kuiil fashion, “Half.”

Before leaving, you spoke directly to the Mandalorian for the first time,  “He means half of the blurrg you helped capture.'' It’s become a recurring theme that people found it difficult to make sense of the way in which the Ughnaught spoke, and this was the first and only instance where you had offered any clarification to a passing bounty hunter, to which Kuiil subtly took note of this.

You decided to leave, seeing as your worries were misplaced after sensing zero hostility from the newest bounty hunter to pass through Kuiil’s place. But if you were being honest, you left early because you felt drained from this morning’s ordeal. You didn't have the energy to listen to these two strike a deal and quite frankly, you just needed to be alone. 

So you grabbed some food from Kuiil’s kitchen and bid him goodbye, giving the Mandalorian a brief nod of acknowledgement as well. He returns the gesture. When you exit, you don’t hear a definitive agreement, but you sensed that he would be willing to go through with Kuiil’s plan.

You took off on your blurrg and rode to what you called “home” for the past 12 months. It was a small and quaint place, and from the lack of personalization, a passerby would assume that no one lived here. You barely had any items that were precious to you, most things being destroyed or lost proved it difficult.

Briefly glancing at the wooden box in the corner of your room, you couldn’t shake the feeling of the object inside calling to you, almost like it knew you would call upon it in due time. You subconsciously reach towards it before stopping yourself. Instead, you toyed with the chain of your crystal necklace, lost in thought.

After regaining your composure, you prepared the rations you stole from Kuiil’s earlier before beginning your night routine. A routine that consists of doing everything you can to not sleep.

Oh, sleep. What was once something you looked forward to at the end of a day. Although many moons have passed since you've felt that way, sleeping wasn't the issue, it was the nightmares that came with it. 

In the past decade, many of your sleepless nights were caused by the nightmares that found themselves invading the confines of your mind. A place that was meant to be sacred and shielded, was now only home to your ghosts, your regrets, and your grievances.

It was like an endless loop. If you felt you were making strides getting past your pain and trauma, your thoughts would come back to haunt you in the depths of the night, entertained at your futile attempts of finding peace.

You couldn't dismiss your gut feeling that these dreams were a manifestation of your mind being in some vicious conflict with a foreign entity. Like red blood cells attacking the invading pathogen in order to prevent illness — you couldn't quite explain it. These dreams felt skewed — something separate from the reality you’ve always known. The uncertainty and distrust of your own recollection was slowly tearing away at the seams of your sanity. It made you want to split your brain in two.

In light of that, something to mention was that nights weren't always so bad. 

When you're lucky, your dreams had nothing to do with your past. Sometimes they would just be signs from the force reaching their omniscient hands for you, even in slumber. These “force dreams” that you had called it, had given you what few good nights of sleep you have. That is where you had dreamed about the Mandalorian — it wasn't a dream sequence by any means, it was more like flashes of people or objects. The person that came to you being the Mandalorian in full silver beskar armor, just standing in front of you. And that was usually all the context you got.

In the end, this so-called night routine was a losing game and you know it, but it never discourages you from trying. As the droop of your eyelids becomes harder to manage and your body slowly gravitates towards the plush and softness of your bed. Eyes inevitably shutting closed, you tell yourself as you do every night — I’m only resting my eyes, I'm not gonna sleep…

The next day, to your surprise, you had woken up from the most restful sleep that you’ve had in months. A small thought nagged at the back of your mind that it had something to do with the Mandalorian’s sudden appearance, but you instantly dismissed what you believed was an irrational thought, as you went and got ready for the day. 

Eventually making your way to Kuiil’s, you find yourself witnessing quite a sight before you.

The Mandalorian was being promptly thrown off the blurrg he had been trying to mount for what could've been for the majority of the morning, and you almost felt bad for him. It had been just as bad for you when Kuiil had first coerced you to learn. The mere thought of that time brought shivers down your spine — the countless bumps and bruises you had endured and the mud that clung to every inch of your body was something that was not to be remembered fondly.

As you dismount from your own blurrg, Kuiil greets you with a wave and shouts at the bounty hunter currently on the ground in a starfish position, “Perhaps if you removed your helmet...”

“Perhaps he remembers I tried to roast him.” He grunts out.

Kuiil corrects him, “This is a female. The males are all eaten during mating.”

The Mandalorian just shakes his head and proceeds to get up for another attempt, when he notices you. His shoulders tensing, seemingly self conscious all of a sudden. You walk over to stand beside your neighbor, arms crossed and see the Mandalorian square his shoulders, only to be thrown off once again. You could feel the string of curses going loudly through his metal head.

“I don’t have time for this,” he says impatiently, “do you have a Landspeeder or Speeder bike that I could hire?” He walks over to the two of you. “You are a Mandalorian. Your ancestors rode the great Mythosaur. Surely you could ride this young foal.” Kuiil insists.

He looks over to you like you could somehow help his situation, but you can only raise your brows at him in question as you tip your head in the direction of the blurrg with an encouraging purse of your lip.

He looks between you and the blurrg one last time before trying again. He stalks her slowly, easing her with relaxed words. Approaching her with a newfound determination, you sense the connection formed between the two and are pleasantly surprised when the Mandalorian successfully mounts and rides the blurrg. 

You nod in acknowledgement and you are about to leave to get to work when Kuiil stops you, “Come with us to the encampment. I am in need of your services.”

“What services?” You ask, eyes narrowed. He never asks you to accompany him and whichever bounty hunter that wanted a shot at getting the quarry that day.

“For protection of course. Can’t have an old Ugnaught alone with a scary bounty hunter, right?” Kuiil speaks in a light tone.

“Fine.” You accept begrudgingly, Kuiil always appealing to your slightly protective tendencies.

“Do you have with you your blaster?”

“Of course.” You never leave anywhere without it.

And so the three of you rode off, the two of them in front with you following in tow. It took a journey to get there, but you finally arrived. The three of you, side by side, looked down at the camp when Kuiil states, “That is where you will find your quarry.”

The Mandalorian then tries to offer him payment but he refuses with a shake of his head, “Since these ones arrived, this territory has been an endless stream of mercenaries seeking reward and bringing destruction.” You frown at that.

“Then why did you bring me?”

“They don’t belong here,” you spoke directly to the Mandalorian for the second time since he’s arrived, “The people that live here come to seek peace and there will be no peace until they’re gone.” He stares at you for a moment.

“Then why do you help?” He looks between you and Kuiil.

“I have never met a Mandalorian. I’ve only read the stories. If they are true, you and my friend will make quick work of it. Then there will again be peace.” You snap your head to your friend looking for an explanation, only for Kuiil to turn to leave, “Kuiil.” 

He looks back at you with much finality and resolve “I have spoken.” And just like that, you are left with the Mandalorian. You scoff at the absurdity of it all, “Maker, I hate when he says that.” 

“It’s alright, I don’t need your help. I can do this job on my own.” He says, trying to be as polite as possible while you both get off of your blurrgs. You were quiet for a moment. He didn’t need you? You brushed off the light ache in your chest, he was just another bounty hunter passing through, it wasn’t like you knew him very well — so why was it bothering you so much? The feeling slowly dissipated, but was then quickly replaced by a feeling akin to being splashed in the face with cold water. Nostalgia poured over you from the slightest presence that you could only guess was coming from the encampment. It was a presence familiar to you, often felt when in close proximity to other force sensitives.

Your brows went from furrowed to raised, “Oh, really?” You say, suddenly amused as you glance over to the camp, “I mean — I suppose you're right. But, what would you do if, let’s say, another bounty hunter was here out on the same job as you?”

You could just see the gears turning in his metal head, clearly confused, until he snapped his head over to the encampment and took out his scope to find that you were not talking about a hypothetical situation, but you were talking about what you were seeing.

He sighs in frustration, “Droids.” The way in which he spoke that single word had told you a lot. “Do what you want. That IG unit just made this a lot more complicated.”

You only shrug. You had an inkling that the bounty hunter had not wanted the hassle of bringing a stranger along for his job, but you were going to go with him regardless. You wanted to find out whose presence you were feeling. It had to be the quarry who Mando, and all of the others before him were looking for. Remembering the sensation again and you shoved away the dread creeping at your core, and forced yourself to remain indifferent to whatever the outcome. It’s not your problem.

As you both made it down the hill, the faint energy that you felt earlier grew stronger, and it was coming from the heart of the camp. Before you could move any further the Mandalorian stopped you with an outstretched arm. You look at him in question, “He’ll probably shoot because he won’t know I’m with the guild. So stay behind me and you won’t be hit.” You nod, going along with him, “Makes sense.”

And what do you know, he was right. The second Mando made his presence known, the IG unit aimed his blaster to his chest with an unnatural quickness. Time slows down and focusing solely on your breathing, you feel the outcome already. Hearing the click of the trigger so clearly, grabbing him by the arm, and before Mando could be hit, you immediately shifted his body closer to you, the shot just missing him. 

He was seemingly stunned for a moment, his back just centimeters away from your chest, and the close proximity making him unable to think. But, he quickly recovered, remembering what he was here for.

“I’m in the Guild!”

“You are a Guild member? I thought I was the only one on assignment.”

“That makes two of us,” he says as he motions for you to follow him to a nearby wall as cover, “so much for the element of surprise. And thanks.” He turns to you, "You, you have… very good reflexes.” 

“Don’t mention it.” You said briefly, wanting the topic to be forgotten.

“Sadly, I must ask for your fob. I have already issued the writ of seizure. The bounty is mine.” Well, isn’t this droid annoying.

“Unless I’m mistaken, you are, as of yet, empty-handed.” The IG unit seems to recognize its predicament and willingly agrees to split the reward. 

“— I require an answer if I am to proceed.” While the bounty hunters are busy defining the terms of the agreement, spotting movement from the corner of your eye, you swifty brought out your blaster and shot him, causing him to fall off of the building. “If you guys are done, I think we should get going ~ “ You say in a singsong manner as you walk away, drawing closer to the source of the energy.

You look back to see someone sneak up behind the Mandalorian and without wasting any time you shoot them, the blast just missing the side of his metallic head. He sends his thanks with a nod of his helmet and you continue forward until the tracking fob leads the three of you to a large door. While you’re constantly getting shot at, the IG unit provides good cover for the two of you to get closer, only to find that the door just so happened to be locked. Now you’re surrounded with no way out unless you can somehow get the door open, “ — I will initiate self-destruct sequencing.” The droid suddenly states and both yours and Mando’s head snaps in its direction. “Whoa, you’re what?” 

“Manufacturer's Protocol dictates I cannot be captured. I must self-destruct.”

“Do not self-destruct!” Mando orders.

“Yeah. How about we don’t do that.” You try and say as convincingly as possible to a suicidal droid. 

“Cover me!” You and the IG do what Mando says as he tries what he can to get the doors to open. You’re getting overwhelmed by the heavy blaster fire and you’re starting to wonder if you’ll need to use more than just your blaster. “How’s it going over there?” You shout.

“Go! Go! There’s too many!” He shouts back as he runs to stand beside the droid. You guys continue to return fire but they have you pinned. Through the dust you see the mercenaries bring out a larger weapon. 

You try to get their attention, “Guys?”—“I will initiate self-destruct.”—“Do not self-destruct! We’re shooting our way out.” Mando says not hearing you, as he went around the wall to start shooting.

“Guys!” You repeat. “What!” They finally saw the gun you were warning them about, “Okay,” Mando said as they both quickly returned to their place behind the wall. “New plan!”

You were done with this. Cowering behind a wall, with nothing but a meager blaster at hand — your impatience was painfully obvious. “Argh! Draw their fire! l got this!” You were done waiting and as soon as that blaster rifle turned, you left your position and reached your hand out, grabbing the gunman and launching him up into a wall. “Go!” You shout at Mando because he was just staring at you and he eventually snaps himself out of it and gains control of the rifle to use their own weapon against them. 

You guys continued firing until you finally got rid of them all. By the time you were finished, your heart was beating rapidly in your chest from the adrenaline. From the thrill. You had missed the feeling of wielding the force, the years in hiding and fear of attracting unwanted attention to yourself, prevented you from using the full extent of your powers. The force gave you a sense of comfort and you felt whole again. It made sense for you to feel fulfilled, your relationship with the force being closely utilized for the training you had undergone ever since you were just a child. Combat. Bloodshed. These were integral parts of your character — your livelihood. It was your damn purpose for existing. 

It was already unnatural for you to settle, to be without action and this just cemented the fact that this was not the life for you. Was this why Kuiil had been so adamant for you to help the Mandalorian with his job? For you to realize this?

Collecting yourself with a deep breath, you rejoined the bounty hunters. “You okay?” The Mandalorian sounded concerned about your prolonged absence.

You lightly nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Well, now we just need to get the door open,” you heard Mando say, “uh, do you think you could do something about that?” Oh. He was asking you.

“Yeah. I think I could work something out.” You respond straight faced, with only the slightest hint of amusement in your voice.

Raising your hand in front of the large door, you manipulated the metal like it was merely a piece of paper. The whine of metal crushing pierced through the air and you pushed it to the side, leaving a gaping hole in your wake. Your steps halt, noticing neither bounty hunters following in step with you, “Um, you coming?” Not understanding that you’ve just displayed a literal inhuman amount of power like it was nothing.

Only the droid replies mechanically, “That is physically impossible. I must inquire how you are able to perform such —” “Nope. Not happening.” You did not have enough patience today to be interrogated by a bounty droid. “Are you gonna get this bounty or not?” You look at the ever-so-still Mandalorian at your side, eyebrows raised. The tin can looks like he just blew a fuse and appears to also want to ask a question about your unusual abilities, but thinks better of it, “Yeah.”

Amidst the settling dust, you sensed a lone mercenary holed up in the corner and you step inside first, seemingly checking out some random boxes. You knew what the mercenary would do before he even did it. It was a little show all in good fun, a little game that you liked to play with people who would wish you harm. Feigning ignorance to their advances, and when they so foolishly believe they caught you by surprise, you turn at the perfect moment to see their confidence fall, and see themselves fall at your hand as well.

But what you didn’t account for, was the Mandalorian making quick work of the mercenary and you couldn't deny that he piqued your interest. Was he that important of a mercenary to show up in your dreams? When not a single one of the previous mercenaries ever showed up in your visions, what was so special about this one?

You thanked him and he nodded in response, “Anyone else?” He announces for anyone willing to try and get in our way, only for silence to be returned.

“The tracking fob is still active. My sensors indicate that there is a life form present.” The droid says as the three of you begin to walk towards where the tracking fob’s beeping beats faster and faster with each step you take.

As much as you wanted to head directly towards the source of energy that has been poking at your psyche for the past 40 minutes, you decide it's best for Mando to find the bounty for himself. It is his job after all, nothing that has to do with you. You kicked away your curiosity and reminded yourself that whatever - whoever you find here is just a quarry and nothing else.

The beeping intensifies as it leads Mando to a hovering pram. As he opens it, your breath stalls at what you see next. Two long, furry green ears peeking out of a tattered brown cloth. This couldn’t be the bounty…

“Wait — they said 50 years old.”

“Species age differently. Perhaps it could live many centuries.” The child coos softly as if it had just woken up. “Sadly, we’ll never know.” The IG unit says as it raises its blaster directed to the child. But the Mandalorian stops it with a hand, “No. We’ll bring it in alive.”

But the droid persists, “The commission was quite specific. The asset was to be terminated—” 

Thump. Steam rises from the entry blasts coming out of its head. Simultaneously, thhe pair of you return your blasters into its holsters, “So predictable…” you sigh. The two of you glance at each other in a shared understanding, before redirecting your attention to the quarry. 

“So… this is who all of those bounty hunters were looking for?”

“Yes, but… I didn't know it would be a child.” He responds rather hesitantly.

Keeping your hands at your sides, you watch as the bounty hunter tasked with bringing this quarry to his employers, reaches his gloved hand out to this child and the child also reaches for him.

♡ next chapter →

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The Before and After - Masterlist

The Before and After (E)

The Middle - Part 1 (E) - Coming Soon

The Middle - Part 2 (E) - Coming Soon

KINKTOBER DAY 5: Fucking Machine -Part 1

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Set between seasons one and two.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (from The Mandalorian)

Summary: He did his best to ignore the sounds of moans and groans of sentient species fucking or getting fucked by machines, but they only made him harder. Din subtly tried to rub at his cock while following the droid, but the thing heard him groan and stopped, looming down at him with unreadable eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t wish to pay for my time?”

“Not interested, just show me the room.” If the droid had been a person, he would have felt bad about how gruff his voice was, but the droid only nodded and proceeded to open a small room that was vacant despite many false pussies on display begging to be fucked.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, fluff and smut, romantic angst/tension, yearning, unrequited love (or so he thinks), PIV sex, robot brothel, Din tries to get over his feelings for you by recalling a fling he had years ago but it doesn't help, explicit sexual description of Din's one night stand with an OC made up for the story (in case anyone doesn't like reading stuff like that in reader inserts), semi-public sex

Word Count: 5,416

Throughout his lifetime, Din had faced a number of problems. Some came with the territory of being a Mandalorian, some from being a bounty hunter, and others from the consequences of his own actions. His beskar and Creed often attracted problems, his large heart often caused problems, and his stubbornness in his older years often kept him from solving his problems. And you? You were his biggest problem.

He had reluctantly agreed to share a ship with you after the Crest was destroyed and he and Grogu were reunited. The N1 Starfighter was fun, but over time he came to admit that it wasn’t practical. So he stored the small ship on board your much spacier one and opted to use it more for leisure than for work.

At first, Din wasn't sure how switching off jobs was going to work. But it came far more naturally to the both of you than he had expected. When Din was free to bounty hunt, you tagged along and waited his time out on the ship or in the nearby towns. When he wasn't working, he preoccupied himself with fixing up your ship or finding small work nearby while you were out. It brought in the credits a lot faster, and Din could admit that it was nice sharing a space with someone who respected not just his Creed but his silences and space as well.

Din wasn’t sure when he started to find you attractive, but his infatuation was becoming a bigger problem day by day. Din found subtle ways to touch you when moving past you on the ship or at a market regardless of how much space he actually had, and he tried hard not to linger or stare but it was hard. When you were nearby, he was pulled into your gravitational pull and he couldn't look or keep away for long.

It was a problem.

He convinced himself that his attraction was temporary. Space was lonely and with just you and the kid as his companions, it was bound to happen. And just like the stars before you, his feelings too will fade into a distant memory.

He’s such a fucking fool.

Din was far too into his own head to even consider whether or not you were also interested in him. He’s never been good at picking up cues like that, and although he’s no stranger to sex, romance was always a weak spot for him and often led him to make choices that worked against any blossoming feelings he had for a potential partner. So he resorted to what he did best with problems such as these: he withdrew into himself.

Din cut back on the touches, the lingering, and found excuses to be elsewhere on the ship. But the distance he created only made his feelings more intense, and with the ship being yours, he was constantly surrounded by the reminder of your existence.

He knew he had to either leave or scratch the itch he had for you or risk ruining this friendship and partnership. All he had to do was wait for the next planet to find a brothel while you were on one of your jobs and he could satisfy that need, maybe make it a habit every few months or so if needed. To Din, it was a solid plan and the hope of it had him in a better mood.

Luckily for Din, he didn’t have to wait long. One of your jobs led you both to the planet M4-78, one he hadn’t heard of, and one that surprised him he hadn’t. The planet, although some-what populated, was mostly run by droids. 

His knee-jerk reaction when exiting the ship was to take out his blaster, and even with your coos of reassurance, it was hard not acting like a startled loth cat with every droid citizen he encountered. Din knew he had to get laid and get the fuck off that planet. And luckily for him, there was a brothel on that god-forsaken planet and he immediately took off for it once you left and Grogu was down for his nap.

Unluckily for Din, because of the underlining fact that the planet was run by droids, that meant the brothel was run by them as well. 

Din didn’t know what he was expecting when he walked through the metallic doors, but being greeted by a tall droid with a snatched waist, curved hips, and a pussy on full display was not it. Nor the fact that not only was the brothel ran by droids, but the prostitutes available were only droids as well.

If Din ever had a midlife crises, it had to have been in that moment. Here he was, a man known for loathing droids, made to decide on whether it was more dignified to walk out sexually frustrated and risking lashing out at you and others because of the humiliation and lack of release, or giving in to his desires (and dare he say curiosity) and coming out of this better than he had felt in awhile.

That’s how he found himself rejecting the pussy droid’s services but allowing her to lead him to a backroom that was more affordable (and less shameful) for Din so that he could get in and out as fast as he could.

He did his best to ignore the sounds of moans and groans of sentient species fucking or getting fucked by machines, but they only made him harder. Din subtly tried to rub at his cock while following the droid, but the thing heard him groan and stopped, looming down at him with unreadable eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t wish to pay for my services?”

“Not interested, just show me the room.” If the droid had been a person, he would have felt bad about how gruff his voice was. But the droid only nodded and proceeded to open a small room that was vacant despite many false pussies on display begging to be fucked.

Din didn’t budge until the door shut behind him and he moved into the room tentatively, feeling extremely out of place but unable to ignore the need for release. The room was a siren call to his desires and Din decided he could hate himself later for his decision.

A variety of species were carved into the wall to look like the women were bent over and had pushed the back of their thighs, ass, and lower back into a hole for strangers to fuck anonymously. Even Din had to admit he was impressed with the variety.

Wookie, Twi’lek, Zabrak, Chiss, Togruta, human… if the species was sentient, their female sex organs were on display, waiting to be used any way the client wished. And Din’s feet betrayed him by taking him all the way to the human fleshlight, hovering over it and staring it down like a prize worthy of worship.

Of course, the skin was wrong. It wasn’t your shade and it didn’t have the same texture. But eyeing the little fob on the wall next to the sex object, Din knew he just had to swipe his vambrace over it to pay for the time he wanted and make any changes he wished to better suit his needs. Which meant he could make the human rump in front of him look exactly the way he imagined you’d look, and the idea of it made his cock twitch violently and ooze more pre-cum than he knew he was capable of producing. 

Before Din could swap his vambrace, he backtracked hard to the bright orange Twi’lek rump instead which even had lekku sticking out of the wall where the head would be if the pussy was attached to a real person. 

Din gazed down at his temporary ‘companion,’ if he could even call it that. Just as he was impressed with the species available, Din was impressed with how realistic the mount was. The lighting helped fake the idea that the object belonged to a real person, but with his helmet, he was able to pick up on how slightly off the color and texture was of the skin. 

But for a moment, he could pretend. And for a moment, he could try to resist the temptation of you even if he desperately wanted to go back to the human fleshlight and indulge in all of his desires. But the fear of that making his feeling worse rooted him in place behind the Twi’lek pussy.

Din swiped his vambrace and when the screen popped up for preferences, he was quick to turn the Twi’lek from the bright orange it originally was to a vivid teal, ignoring the purple options with a shuddering thought of his romps with Xi’an back in the day, and adjusting his companion further until her lekku had pronounced purples stripes and her thighs were littered with freckles. 

Din took a step back to admire the mounted pussy in front of him, a near-perfect copy of a fling he had had years ago who became one of his favorite go-to memories when space got lonely and he only had his hand to keep him company. 

It had been a bit after his run with Ran and not too long before Grogu came into his life. A pit stop on a tiny planet used as a halfway point for many travelers into the galaxy and out. A planet where people passed through but never stayed for long.

While waiting for his ship to be fueled and fixed, Din had stepped into the town's only cantina with every intention of ordering a drink and making it clear he didn’t want to drink it or be talked to. And it mostly worked. That is until SHE walked in. 

The teal Twi’lek was all legs and curves, a body fit more for a holo actress or exotic dancer than whatever the fuck brought her to that backwater planet. Her teal skin and green eyes glowed whenever they were caught in the rotating lights in the dim cantina, her teeth white and sharp, and her smile wicked in a way that had made Din yearn for the ability to kiss without breaking his Creed. Her breasts, although small, were round in her swoop neck tank and her short skirt paired with the length of her legs left little to the imagination. 

Like many men in the cantina, Din was a moth willingly caught in this woman's flame. And all it took was for her to catch his stare from his shadowed place in a booth, a quirked lip, and a subtle head nod for Din to abandon his seat and follow her into the back alley where she promptly dropped to her knees and snatched his member out of his pants before the door behind them could fully shut.

Din remembered the way the Twi’lek had gazed up at him with those big green eyes, lips tight around his cock, and the way she squeezed her breasts up to cradle his balls as she sucked him off. She had been beautiful in the cantina and was just as beautiful on her knees with her features highlighted by a singular streetlamp pouring in light from just down the way.

Din had stroked her lekku and face reverently. And when she swallowed his cum like a champ, Din had her bent over a crate, ass up, skirt shoved over the roundness of her ass, and legs pressed tightly together to pronounce her fat pussy further just like the mount in front of him looked now. 

Din slipped his fingers down the slit of the fleshlight, admiring how wet it got from his touch, but also unable to not compare it to the real thing he had known so intimately at one point. But that was then and this is now and he had to get back to the ship before you did.

The Mandalorian unclipped his belt and opened his flight suit, allowing his stiff cock to pop out and hit his stomach with a dull ‘thud.’ Din hissed at the feeling the air felt against his member, whimpering at how sensitive and red it was against his belly as it oozed even more pre-cum. He took himself in one hand, the other gliding up the thigh and right ass cheek of the mount in front of him. The pussy was dripping now, and Din forced himself back into the memory of the alleyway and how the Twi'lek's pussy shone in the dim lighting much similarly.

Just like how he had before, Din at first notched his cock at the entrance, but then dragged the head down to rub her clit with it then back up and let it slide through the ass crack as if he were aiming for that hole. He recalled the way the woman froze and moved to correct which hole she wanted him to fuck when he grabbed her arm and lowered his member to slide home into her wet channel, holding her wrist on her lower back and locking it in place.

Din groaned at the feeling of the fleshlight around his cock, surprised at just how real it felt, and grunted at how tight it was gripping him. He couldn't even compare it to any partner he's had, it was the equivalent of what you'd expect a pussy to feel on a porn actress. Something that is so undeniably good that reality may not hold a candle to with the expectations created, but somehow this did. And that both excited him and soured his mood all at once.

Focus.

With the mount lacking arms, Din had to settle his hands on the fake Twi'lek's hips and focused once more on grounding himself within the memory. And it didn't take long for him to snap his hips at the same hard and fast pace he had fucked the Twi'lek with. Din closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his balls slap against the fleshlight's lips, and allowed himself to indulge in the wet heat. In the background of his mind, he remembered the breathy moans his fling let out along with the occasional high-pitched whimper that made his cock twitch and pound even harder until she made the same sounds more frequently until he could tell she was close to coming. 

Holding her hand in place, Din took the other from her hip and slowly dragged his hand up and down her bare skin, the loving gesture a complete duality to the rough fucking he was giving her. In the alley, his fingers found her implant. Din knew he won't find the same implant in the fake pussy, but his fingers still followed the same path they had with the real thing. 

Lost in his thoughts again, Din watched as the teal skin suddenly changed to your color and tone. Din still imagined himself in that alley, but the figure he was fucking and gazing down at was yours. The twi'lek's sounds changed octaves to better suit the ones Din was used to hearing on your ship. Her moans and whimpers faded into the ones he had heard when you had accidentally dropped a tool on your foot or how out of breath you got when you had to jog to keep up with his long strides. 

Din's grip on his fantasy weakened, and when he remembered gazing down at the way the Twi'lek's ass jiggled with every hard thrust, suddenly it was your ass doing the jiggling instead. It was your body clinging to the metal beneath you. Your body that was bent over the crate in an alleyway and taking his cock like you were born for it. Your face and hair that was doused in sweat, not the shiny lekku from recollation that turned to gaze up at him with your cheek pressed to the cold metallic surface of the crate. It was your mischievous smile, not the fling's wicked grin, and wink that reminded him of the implant he had just felt in his memory and had Din cumming harder than he had in his life into the prosthetic pussy, and the sudden jetson of his hot seamen triggered the mount's own just as it had triggered the Twi'lek's orgasm as well, feeling the fake pussy's trapping muscle camp down at him to milk his cock until it relaxed enough to let his cock go.

Catching his breath, Din was shocked at just how hard he still was despite the impact of his orgasm. The evidence of his memory and fantasy overlapping dripped around his penis and down his balls before falling to the floor below where a drain was strategically placed. Din glanced at the monitor and saw he still had 20 minutes remaining of his session and he shook his head hard, his years of discipline kicking in with very little effort. 

Din had taken the woman two more times in the alley, dragging her from the crate to be pushed into the wall where he fucked her from behind, and then propped up on the crate where Din held her legs wide with his elbows as he plowed into her, her breath fogging up his visor, and her trapping muscle locking them together for a minute before letting him go once her body recovered from her own climax.

Din kept his eyes squeezed shut, slamming himself into the fleshlight, doing all that he could to focus on the smallest details within the memory. But that didn't stop the Twi'lek from continuing to turn into you and making the same sounds as you, no matter how hard he kept ripping himself from the fantasy and back into his one-time reality, recounting the way the Twi'lek gripped his cock and her tits bounced and lekku swayed with each rough thrust.

Even after cumming hard into her the third time, Din remembered just how hard he still was, and how she giggled when he ground his hips into hers rather than shaming him for how badly he desired her. Din couldn't remember the specifics of how he got from the cantina and to the hotel where the woman was staying, but he did recall the teasing glances and touches she gave him on the way to the building. The way she would stop abruptly and grind her ass into his crotch as if ensuring he was still hard.

And Din especially remembered the moment when the elevator door shut, how he wrapped his arms around her from behind, shoved her skirt up, ripped her panties clean off of her, and punched his cock into her the moment he had his member free. Din remembered the way he thanked whatever god was out there that they made the Twi'lek as tall as she was for him to do this with so easily.Din had kept his eyes glued to the screen as the elevator shot up to the floor she was staying on, slamming into her over and over again, barely leaving her cunt for long. One hand clutched her right breast, the other covering her mouth, his head pressed against hers to hear the muffled noises she made with every hard thrust he gave her.

Just as her floor approached, Din grunted and shot his fourth load into her and stepped away, allowing the skirt to fall back into place just as the doors opened to reveal a human female and Chiss male waiting for the elevator. Din placed his hand on his fling's lower back and guided her out on shaky legs, not bothering to acknowledge the couple regardless if they picked up on what had happened or not.

Din ground his hips into the fake pussy, remembering the way his hand had dropped from her lower back to squeeze her ass and patted it, encouraging her to lead them to her room. Watching her hips naturally sway had Din mesmerized, and he had become instantly hard again when he saw his seed finally dripping down the inside of her thighs. It had taken everything in Din not to take her right then and there against her hotel door. 

Din was barely able to keep his hands off of her when the door finally opened and shut behind them, his helmet adjusting to the darkness of the hotel room. He recalled it being small, but modest, with a shockingly good view from the wall wide window. In his moment of distraction, the woman had stripped herself of her clothing and shoved Din onto the bed where he happily fell on his behind, ready to just admire the view in front of him for a moment.

The planet, because of its lack of permanent residents, had far less pollution and therefore a much clearer sky. The window reminded him of his view from The Crest, and he allowed himself to fall into the scene that he's had forever etched into his mind of just how stunning the Twi'lek was in that light. But when Din opened his eyes, instead of seeing the woman from his one-night stand, you stood in her place. And he wasn't sure if he was impressed or horrified that his mind could imagine you so vividly, with your nude body shrouded in the shadow of the night but highlighted by stardust. But whether or not Din closed his eyes in the present-day or in his reminiscing, there you stood in all of the beautiful glory he wished to see you in.

A beep chimed from the monitor next to the mount, alerting Din that he had ten minutes remaining of his session. But the warning fell on neglectful ear.

In his mind, Din knew it was the Twi'lek who sauntered over to him naked as the day she was born only to take out his member and mount him without breaking the eye contact she tried to make with his visor in the way. But all he saw was you, and how you would walk with that unique stride of yours, eyebrow cocked the slightest bit amused, and unable to hide that charming grin of yours as you straddled him and slid down on his cock. He knew you'd try to hide the way the stretch from that angle would make you feel, but he'd see it. With you, he saw everything. How could he not?

In the memory of his once reality, Din knew the Twi'lek rode him like she was trying to tame a wild Blurgg. The way she had thrown her head back, eyes screwed shut, breasts pressed against his breastplate, and lakkus jiggled with her enthusiasm never failed to get him hard at the image of it all. But in his fantasy, you stared down at him as you rode him. Not hard, not like you're trying to tame a Blurgg, but passionately consistent that grounded him. That commanded his attention, his devotion, his focus.

The night he had had with the Twi'lek had been intense, sexy, and animalistic. When she rode out her high after riding him, he had spun them around with his cock still rooted in her and drilled her until she came undone again. He took her bent over the bed, pushed up to the window with her breasts against the glass as he took her from behind, and up against the wall. Despite those facts, Din still couldn't stop the image of you from taking her place. And the harder he fought it, the weaker his resolve became. And when Din realized it was futile to fight what his heart, cock, and head wanted; he gave in and welcomed you as his fling's replacement.

He'll deal with the shame and guilt later, consequences be damned.

Where the night with the Twi'lek woman had been intense, sexy, and animalistic; a night with you in that hotel room would have been passionate, sensual, and intimate. Yes, he would have let you ride him if you wanted to, but he would have worshiped you. He would glide his ungloved hands over every inch of your body as if you were a heaven-sent goddess, not one that inspired lustful desires and one-night stands, but one that beckoned him home to a body that was fertile with all that he could ever need. A goddess that needed to be reminded that it was HER altar he knelt at and prayed to and willingly sacrificed to.

A beep chimed, letting him know he had five minutes remaining but he was too far lost to care. 

Yes, he would have flipped you over as well onto the bed, but instead of the quick way he had drilled his hips into the Twi'lek, he would've snapped his hips in a slow but deep rhythm that would both have you begging for more but also struggling with the intensity of every stroke. He would have hitched your legs over his hips with one hand, the other bent over you with his head close to your face so that he could gaze into your eyes.

Din's hips stuttered into the prosthetic pussy when he realized that, in his fantasy, he was not only naked but also helmetless. And the idea of it didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. He had never taken his helmet off in front of anyone since he swore The Creed, but if he ever considered the possibility with anyone (other than Grogu), it would be you. Din knew that should scare him, but instead it just caused a deep ache. One that he tried to ignore through the feeling of the prosthetic pussy pulsing around his cock. 

He allowed his fantasy to act out the way he would kiss you deeply, and drag his tongue over every inch of your body as he ground his hips into yours. He allowed himself to imagine the way he'd suck hickies onto your neck and leave bite marks in places for you to find days later. Marks that he'd then darken once more on The Crest when you had hours to kill in hyperspace and Grogu was napping. He imagined your skin being salty from sweat and tangy in a way that flesh just is, but the taste would be uniquely yours. And Din knew once he had a taste, he wouldn't be able to stop devouring you any chance he got.

Din imagined the way he'd wrap himself around you until the both of you weren't sure where you began and he ended. When he fucked you from behind, it was with his whole naked body laying on top of yours, his knees spreading your thighs for him to fuck you in the same, hard rhythm while holding his face against your cheeks and whispering sweet nothings into your ear while you drooled and took what he gave you. 

Because, unlike the Twi'lek, you didn't have legs for days. No, your legs were shapely from the work you did, arms toned where it counted. Your waist may not have been tight or breasts small and perky, but you were soft in ways that Din wasn't able to indulge in. Soft in a way that had him imagining coming home to a hearty meal and a woman who loved him unconditionally for who he was, even when his own body will eventually soften with age. The Twi'lek was chiseled in ways the gods would envy, but you were sculpted by the hands of the muses who the gods would praise.

Yes, he would have pushed you against the glass for the world to see, but instead of your breasts, they would see your bare back so he could fuck up into you and gaze into your eyes with the galaxy highlighting your figure in a beautiful blue silhouette. Two celestial bodies in one. And when he was done with you, your body was slick with how many times he made you cum, skin riddled with evidence of his kisses, his own seed dripping out of you... he would remain inside your body as he curled around you in a protective embrace, arms tightly around you, and allow his breathing to match yours.

Din's mind finally wandered from his fantasy and back to the memory where, after he fucked the Twi'leck on every surface of that hotel room, he had allowed himself to lay on the bed with her draped over him and his cock wedged inside of her. He remembered how he waited until she was sound asleep for him to roll her over gently and carefully slip out of her, watching her closely so as to not wake her and sighed when she flinched but didn't wake up from the lack of weight within her pussy. 

Din, like the shadow he is, had adjusted himself and slipped off into the night. He had gone back to his ship, paid his fees, and took off never to return to that planet again. There had been times he had hoped to run into the woman again, but he never did and it was for the best. But times like these made him wonder if maybe he should try to find her if you couldn't feel the same for him, but that had been years ago and she most likely had settled down by now.

Din spilled into the prosthetic pussy with one last sigh and, after a moment, allowed himself to slip from its warmth just as the timer beeped. Din watched his seed spill out of the pussy and drip down to the floor, his fingers ached to push it back in, but the cleaning cycle of the fleshlight had started to douce the inside, and soon his seed was replaced with cleaning fluids for the next customer.  

The Mandalorian sighed and resisted the urge to lift his helmet enough to rub at his eyes and the bridge of his nose. Instead, he tucked himself back into his pants and looked himself over to ensure he wasn't bringing back any evidence of his transaction home to you. His heart fluttered in excitement at the thought of being in space with just you and the kid again, but he had to admit the whole transaction left him feeling empty and lonely. If not even his memory could help him get through this, Din wasn't sure what could.

Leaving the prosthetic pussies behind, Din walked through the door and made his way down the first hallway of many to find his way out when a noise had him stop in his tracks.

The brothel earlier had been filled with faint moans, groans, and wet slaps coming from the private rooms he had passed when he first arrived. But a single moan caught his attention and Din went as still as he normally did on his hunts and listened. And he didn't have to wait long before he heard the same breathy moan again and realized the sound he recognized as your own. Were you there as well? Din's heart raced, torn on leaving you to what you came to do and pretending he had never been there to witness such a beautiful sound, or tracking down your sounds and listening in on just who you were imagining was fucking you the way he had done himself. 

The latter won over, Din's feet moved on their own before he could make up his own mind on what to do and they led him down two halls until he was right outside the door where your breathy sounds and soft moans were the most prominent. He amplified the sound on his helmet, heart hammering in his chest when he realized that the sounds really were yours. He couldn't tell just what kind of treatment you had paid for by sound alone, but his cock was hard and demanding to know what was fucking the girl of his dreams when he was right here with a perfectly good cock of his own. But he couldn't intrude, not when he didn't know what you were there for or who you wanted to be with.

But just as Din swallowed his pride and turned to leave, there was a hitch in your breath that had him freeze in his tracks, and another that made him turn around with every intent of finding a way in. You had moaned his name.

"Din."  

PART 2: Coming soon

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I have no idea why this fic took me as long as it did, but it kicked my ass regardless of this being the first story I was inspired to write for Kinktober 2022. I was genuinely shocked to not find any fics on robot brothels or sex machines with how horny this fandom is, and I had to change that. I think it's so cool we have worlds where we can fuck sentient alien species and we have robots who can sass us in beeps but we haven't written about robot pussies and dicks?? God has abandoned me and I'm okay with it if it means getting more potential fics like this so ENJOY.

I also didn't edit the end, so I'll be fixing the mistakes in the next day or two. In case anyone was like "damn bitch you write like this?" Nah it's 5 A.M and I have lost all control over my life so you're welcome.

For whatever reason, my posts since October 8th haven't been showing up in any of the tags I post them in, if anyone has any advice I'd appreciate it! I let Tumblr staff know already but I've been bummed that my work hasn't gotten its usual foot traffic but I'm glad I figured out why.

So thank you to anyone who liked, engaged, and reblogged my stuff since!!

Day 4: Tied Up

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Set between seasons one and two.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary:

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, fluff and smut, romantic angst/tension, bondage, PIV sex, rope bondage, mutual pining

Word Count: 1,673

You had been tied up in the past before by other lovers, usually hands and/or feet bound by rope or binders. You had imagined going further, but you never met anyone who had ventured past the basic binding in bed to really explore that area. Or trust, for that matter. That is, until you met Mando.

You barely knew the man, and wouldn’t even say you had found him attractive when you first met. He was a giant wall of silver with very little indication he had much going on other than being a good bounty hunter and father figure to his green ward. It wasn't until you had witnessed the way the warrior had tied up his bounty and manhandled the creature into carbonite that the neutral feelings you had for him changed so dramatically that you nearly gave yourself whiplash. You hadn’t even noticed the way your thighs clenched at the sight, but Mando noticed. He always did. 

When your physical relationship started with the Mandalorian, it started the same way it had with others: in binders and rope. But unlike past lovers, you came to the realization that Mando had a few tricks up his sleeve that others hadn’t that added so much more spice to the act you know so well. 

If your legs were bound together, he’d throw your legs over one shoulder and bend you in half. If your wrists were tied in the front, you’d be manhandled to hold onto something above you as the warrior held up your body as if you weighed nothing and fucked up into you, hitting spots you didn’t know existed. If you had your hands bound behind you, they’d be used as leverage for the Mandalorian to fuck into you harder and faster from behind, the way your ass and breasts jiggled from the force would make your body ache for days after. It was glorious.

The ropes were always loose enough to wiggle out of if you needed to, but tight enough to get the job done. And that was enough. For a while. 

It wasn't that you were unsatisfied, Mando (or Din, as you’ve learned to call him) was a tentative lover who got off on your own pleasure. You couldn’t think of a time when you weren’t left satisfied. Or fathom there ever being one. Din knew your body better than you did, using old methods that were always certain to get you off, but continuing to find new ways to ensure that sex never got old.

But the longer your… whatever-ship with Din went on, the more your mind wandered to ways you could take the simple binding further. And you weren't sure which shocked you more: that you wanted Din to tie you up so tightly you couldn't move, leaving you vulnerable to take whatever Din gave you; or that you trusted him enough to have that kind of power. 

You hadn't noticed the soft sighs and prolonged glances you gave whenever Din brought out to use on you, but he noticed. He always did. 

You were so caught up in your own head that you hadn't even noticed how distracted Din had gotten both during sex and on jobs. It wasn't until Cara had asked where Din was did you finally notice his longer absences, and it was hard to not overthink it. Especially when you found out one day he had returned without seeing you and left with new pucks. 

After a month or two of little communication and only one quick sexual visit did you finally concede that Din was done with you. The rejection stung and humiliation sat in your chest, mocking you with the reminder that if you had asked Din to tie you up like you had wanted, the humiliation would be replaced with deep shame and you're glad you hadn't put yourself through that ordeal.

It's why you were shocked to find the Mandalorian darkening your doorstep well past midnight a few days later, his broad frame taking up the width of your door, his figure silhouetted by the darkness of your dwelling and the bright stars that painted the sky behind him. Without a word, he stepped in. And without a word you let him enter. 

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but the new rope that Din took from the bag Grogu normally warms was not on your list of top ten guesses.

It was long and thin, the red material appeared smooth in your living room's dim lighting. It wasn't anything you had ever seen before, and you couldn't help squeezing your thighs waiting for an explanation. For the distance, for the absences, for the lack of communication, and for showing up without calling you first.

And with a soft, "do you trust me?" crackling from the man's helmet, you couldn't stop yourself from answering back with a breathy "yes." The pain, the rejection, and the sting that had been haunting you the last two months were replaced with the trust you had for him and you figured you'd deal with the shame and humiliation of that choice later. If it ever came. 

You had never heard of shibari and weren't sure where Din learned it (not that you wanted to know and something told you you didn't), but it was everything you had wanted from past partners and were too afraid to ask Din. Yet, somehow, he had noticed. He always did. And you were a fool for thinking he wouldn't. 

That's how you found yourself on the floor of your bedroom, tied up in a way that left your naked body bent and exposed in a way that Din could use you any way you wanted. You were bent in half and spread in a way that exposed you to the world. The robe bound your wrists to your legs with intricate braids and knots, the kind made by nimble fingers and sure hands. The same hands that were stroking down your back and sides and grasping the flesh of your ass. You had never been more scared and horny in your life, your tentative excitement had you dripping wet without Din needing to even touch you. 

With you firmly on your back, your breasts swollen from the way the rope was tied around them, Din was able to slide home into your tight canal with little prep. Your groans entwined like a beautiful aria, but instead of railing you like he normally did, Din ground his hips against yours and set a slow but deep rhythm that punched the air from your lungs with each thrust. Your fingers and toes curled and your position forced you to look into the blank visor staring back, your cock-dumb reaction reflected back to you. 

Being unable to move, bent the way you were, with nothing else to do but take what Din gave you and stare up at him was the most vulnerable you've ever felt. It was as much intimidating as it was arousing, unable to look away even if you wanted to. You weren't sure what Din was thinking, or what inspired him to lean down and rest his forehead against yours, but it made sex with him this time around feel that much more intimate than just two friends with benefits trying something new in the bedroom. It was a feeling you welcomed wholeheartedly and you did your best to push your forehead back against his, eyes shutting.

The next thing you knew you were being flipped onto your stomach, your breasts squished against your chest almost painfully, Din's hand gripping your hair. You silently thanked the maker that Din had enough foresight to lay a blanket down on the ground underneath you just as he slammed home and fucked you like you were used to. The metal plates of his thigh armor dug into your bare skin with each hard thrust, his balls slapping against your clit in a brutal rhythm.

In this position, you struggled to breathe with how hard he was pounding down into you. Din curled up around you in a protective huddle, so close your fingers could graze his armor with every twitch of your fingers reacting to being fucked into oblivion, and the heat of his body radiated past his armor to cause goose bumps to litter your skin. An ungloved hand (when did he take the gloves off?) reached underneath you and rubbed your clit in time of his thrusts, aiding the slap of his balls against the sensitive spot already. You knew logically he had his helmet on, but his head was so close to your ear that it almost sounded like you could hear the unfiltered breathing and soft moans that were too quiet for the modulator to pick up.

Your orgasm hit you like a speeder bike, the pressure so intense you felt it push Din from deep inside you, and the gush of wetness along with the unique tightness caused Din to groan in surprise and grow rigid, his own release blindsiding him. You felt the hot gush of his cum mix with your own, the pressure causing both to leak out around his girth and down his balls and dripping to the floor below. He stayed like that, grinding into you, both of you catching your breaths and doused in sweat. 

Din rested his forehead against the back of your head, and you smiled when you felt his hand unclench itself from your hip and slide up to awkwardly hold one of your bound hands in his. You knew whatever happened tonight was new territory, one you'll have to discuss with Din eventually. But for now, the warrior was still rock-hard inside of you and you were ready to take whatever he was willing to give.

And maybe you will ask him who taught him how to do this so you can send them a thank you basket for leading up to the best night of your life. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

If the last bit felt rushed or wrapped up lazily, you're absolutely right about both. I got behind in this due to work drama and wanted to finish this before posting the next few stories but struggled with remembering how I originally wanted to end it. So please do enjoy, I promise the next two fics are going to be worth the wait I've had these filthy thoughts for at least a month now so suffer with me in horny jail on here.

xo

Billie

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Day 4: Tied Up

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Set between seasons one and two.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary:

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, fluff and smut, romantic angst/tension, bondage, PIV sex, rope bondage, mutual pining

Word Count: 1,673

You had been tied up in the past before by other lovers, usually hands and/or feet bound by rope or binders. You had imagined going further, but you never met anyone who had ventured past the basic binding in bed to really explore that area. Or trust, for that matter. That is, until you met Mando.

You barely knew the man, and wouldn’t even say you had found him attractive when you first met. He was a giant wall of silver with very little indication he had much going on other than being a good bounty hunter and father figure to his green ward. It wasn't until you had witnessed the way the warrior had tied up his bounty and manhandled the creature into carbonite that the neutral feelings you had for him changed so dramatically that you nearly gave yourself whiplash. You hadn’t even noticed the way your thighs clenched at the sight, but Mando noticed. He always did. 

When your physical relationship started with the Mandalorian, it started the same way it had with others: in binders and rope. But unlike past lovers, you came to the realization that Mando had a few tricks up his sleeve that others hadn’t that added so much more spice to the act you know so well. 

If your legs were bound together, he’d throw your legs over one shoulder and bend you in half. If your wrists were tied in the front, you’d be manhandled to hold onto something above you as the warrior held up your body as if you weighed nothing and fucked up into you, hitting spots you didn’t know existed. If you had your hands bound behind you, they’d be used as leverage for the Mandalorian to fuck into you harder and faster from behind, the way your ass and breasts jiggled from the force would make your body ache for days after. It was glorious.

The ropes were always loose enough to wiggle out of if you needed to, but tight enough to get the job done. And that was enough. For a while. 

It wasn't that you were unsatisfied, Mando (or Din, as you’ve learned to call him) was a tentative lover who got off on your own pleasure. You couldn’t think of a time when you weren’t left satisfied. Or fathom there ever being one. Din knew your body better than you did, using old methods that were always certain to get you off, but continuing to find new ways to ensure that sex never got old.

But the longer your… whatever-ship with Din went on, the more your mind wandered to ways you could take the simple binding further. And you weren't sure which shocked you more: that you wanted Din to tie you up so tightly you couldn't move, leaving you vulnerable to take whatever Din gave you; or that you trusted him enough to have that kind of power. 

You hadn't noticed the soft sighs and prolonged glances you gave whenever Din brought out to use on you, but he noticed. He always did. 

You were so caught up in your own head that you hadn't even noticed how distracted Din had gotten both during sex and on jobs. It wasn't until Cara had asked where Din was did you finally notice his longer absences, and it was hard to not overthink it. Especially when you found out one day he had returned without seeing you and left with new pucks. 

After a month or two of little communication and only one quick sexual visit did you finally concede that Din was done with you. The rejection stung and humiliation sat in your chest, mocking you with the reminder that if you had asked Din to tie you up like you had wanted, the humiliation would be replaced with deep shame and you're glad you hadn't put yourself through that ordeal.

It's why you were shocked to find the Mandalorian darkening your doorstep well past midnight a few days later, his broad frame taking up the width of your door, his figure silhouetted by the darkness of your dwelling and the bright stars that painted the sky behind him. Without a word, he stepped in. And without a word you let him enter. 

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but the new rope that Din took from the bag Grogu normally warms was not on your list of top ten guesses.

It was long and thin, the red material appeared smooth in your living room's dim lighting. It wasn't anything you had ever seen before, and you couldn't help squeezing your thighs waiting for an explanation. For the distance, for the absences, for the lack of communication, and for showing up without calling you first.

And with a soft, "do you trust me?" crackling from the man's helmet, you couldn't stop yourself from answering back with a breathy "yes." The pain, the rejection, and the sting that had been haunting you the last two months were replaced with the trust you had for him and you figured you'd deal with the shame and humiliation of that choice later. If it ever came. 

You had never heard of shibari and weren't sure where Din learned it (not that you wanted to know and something told you you didn't), but it was everything you had wanted from past partners and were too afraid to ask Din. Yet, somehow, he had noticed. He always did. And you were a fool for thinking he wouldn't. 

That's how you found yourself on the floor of your bedroom, tied up in a way that left your naked body bent and exposed in a way that Din could use you any way you wanted. You were bent in half and spread in a way that exposed you to the world. The robe bound your wrists to your legs with intricate braids and knots, the kind made by nimble fingers and sure hands. The same hands that were stroking down your back and sides and grasping the flesh of your ass. You had never been more scared and horny in your life, your tentative excitement had you dripping wet without Din needing to even touch you. 

With you firmly on your back, your breasts swollen from the way the rope was tied around them, Din was able to slide home into your tight canal with little prep. Your groans entwined like a beautiful aria, but instead of railing you like he normally did, Din ground his hips against yours and set a slow but deep rhythm that punched the air from your lungs with each thrust. Your fingers and toes curled and your position forced you to look into the blank visor staring back, your cock-dumb reaction reflected back to you. 

Being unable to move, bent the way you were, with nothing else to do but take what Din gave you and stare up at him was the most vulnerable you've ever felt. It was as much intimidating as it was arousing, unable to look away even if you wanted to. You weren't sure what Din was thinking, or what inspired him to lean down and rest his forehead against yours, but it made sex with him this time around feel that much more intimate than just two friends with benefits trying something new in the bedroom. It was a feeling you welcomed wholeheartedly and you did your best to push your forehead back against his, eyes shutting.

The next thing you knew you were being flipped onto your stomach, your breasts squished against your chest almost painfully, Din's hand gripping your hair. You silently thanked the maker that Din had enough foresight to lay a blanket down on the ground underneath you just as he slammed home and fucked you like you were used to. The metal plates of his thigh armor dug into your bare skin with each hard thrust, his balls slapping against your clit in a brutal rhythm.

In this position, you struggled to breathe with how hard he was pounding down into you. Din curled up around you in a protective huddle, so close your fingers could graze his armor with every twitch of your fingers reacting to being fucked into oblivion, and the heat of his body radiated past his armor to cause goose bumps to litter your skin. An ungloved hand (when did he take the gloves off?) reached underneath you and rubbed your clit in time of his thrusts, aiding the slap of his balls against the sensitive spot already. You knew logically he had his helmet on, but his head was so close to your ear that it almost sounded like you could hear the unfiltered breathing and soft moans that were too quiet for the modulator to pick up.

Your orgasm hit you like a speeder bike, the pressure so intense you felt it push Din from deep inside you, and the gush of wetness along with the unique tightness caused Din to groan in surprise and grow rigid, his own release blindsiding him. You felt the hot gush of his cum mix with your own, the pressure causing both to leak out around his girth and down his balls and dripping to the floor below. He stayed like that, grinding into you, both of you catching your breaths and doused in sweat. 

Din rested his forehead against the back of your head, and you smiled when you felt his hand unclench itself from your hip and slide up to awkwardly hold one of your bound hands in his. You knew whatever happened tonight was new territory, one you'll have to discuss with Din eventually. But for now, the warrior was still rock-hard inside of you and you were ready to take whatever he was willing to give.

And maybe you will ask him who taught him how to do this so you can send them a thank you basket for leading up to the best night of your life. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

If the last bit felt rushed or wrapped up lazily, you're absolutely right about both. I got behind in this due to work drama and wanted to finish this before posting the next few stories but struggled with remembering how I originally wanted to end it. So please do enjoy, I promise the next two fics are going to be worth the wait I've had these filthy thoughts for at least a month now so suffer with me in horny jail on here.

xo

Billie

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Day 3: Back to Back (Anal)

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Set before season one.

Pairing: Din Djarin x M!Reader

Summary: Perhaps it was the drink, or the hypnotic haze of the club, but you could’ve scorn one moment you were standing before your acquaintance with benefits. So you weren’t sure how you ended up in the one-room bathroom in the back, but you weren’t complaining as the warrior wasted no time in bending you over the sink and yanking down your pants, his gloved finger swiping over the vibrator in your ass with a pleased hum.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: unprotected sex, rough anal, the reader is AMAB and is implied to be a cis male but I don't use gendered pronouns so it should be safe for my trans and nonbinary friends out there with penises. Peni? Dicks.

Word Count: 1,509

You wouldn’t say you and The Mandalorian were friends, if anything you were acquaintances who knew one another extremely well physically, but not much else outside of that. Not friends, not strangers, just acquaintances with benefits. At least, that's the best way you could put your relationship with the warrior.

The Mandalorian only stopped on your planet once every few months whether it was for fuel, supplies, a quarry, or all the above. You had only met because you managed one of the two spaceports available for ships to dock in town, and he had become a semi-regular customer since. Only staying a few hours at a time, maybe the extremely rare night, but never longer than that. Yet you couldn’t complain. 

He paid on time and he paid well, he was a great father as far as you could tell with his green ward, and he was kind. It was just a bonus that The Mandalorian happened to like how you worked with your hands outside of his ship and now it’s become an expected routine for the warrior to warm your bed while his ship warms your port.

The Mandalorian was a good lay, the best you’ve ever had, probably. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud. But the metal man wasn’t there, hasn’t been for a few months, and you were horny now. And you’d be damned if you waited for the best dick in the galaxy to show up to get the job done.

That’s how you found yourself in one of the more seedy cantinas, dressed in tight pants and a see-through shirt that rubbed your nipples in a way that was borderline teasing you as much as it teased the men and women ogling you through the haze and flickering lights of the club’s darkened atmosphere. 

This wasn’t the place you took a date, no. This was the place you found a warm body to either take home or fuck in a dark corner and never speak to again. You had passed a few bodies shrouded in shadows when you first entered, anonymous silhouettes in different positions that barely alluded you to their species and assigned gender. Your cock twitched in your pants with anticipation at the barely audible moans that found their way above the deafening music.

With a drink in hand, you leaned against a door frame, keeping your body language open to those who sought a companion whether for the evening or just for an hour. You’d take either or. Your cock wept red and tender, made even more sensitive with the vibrating ring around your member. 

It pulsed as if dancing to the beat of the club, your balls hugged by the saddle that wrapped under your sack and was the anchor point for the small, vibrating dildo tucked into your ass to enhance your erection further and preparing you for any eager suitor. 

You felt the room shift despite nothing being visually out of sorts. Yet your skin prickled and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up; you tried to hide your smile in the sip you took from your cup. Glancing to your side was your long-awaited warrior, his armor mesmerizing in the ever-changing lights and fog machine as he loomed over you, hands clenching and unclenching. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the way his chest moved with eager breaths.

Perhaps it was the drink, or the hypnotic haze of the club, but one moment you were standing before The Mandalorian oozing with want, and the next you found yourself in the one-room bathroom in the back being bent over the sink. The warrior was not gentle as he yanked your pants down, his gloved finger swiping over the vibrator in your ass with a pleased hum. He tapped the base and you groaned from the way the dildo's beat briefly shifted in your ass. 

Mando must have been as pent up as you, he didn’t command you to beg or even prolong the need to scratch the itch you both had with teasing and foreplay. He gently took the vibrator and slipped it halfway out, then worked it back in, continuing until he built up a slick rhythm that didn’t offer any resistance.

Satisfied, he let the dildo hang between your legs by its connection to the cock ring, still pulsing against your thigh and wet. He didn’t make you wait, and you sighed in relief when he notched his penis at your entrance and pushed his thick cock into your ass, not stopping until his hips met yours. He let out a loud, long moan that made your cock even harder.

The Mandalorian wasted no time, slamming into you in the way you had been craving. Despite being muffled by the walls, the slap of his hips against yours matched the volume of the music that leaked into the bathroom. Your eyes squeezed shut, enjoying the feeling of being railed, knowing if you opened your eyes to gaze at the scene behind you you'd lose your load sooner than you wanted to. Your knuckles paled with how tightly you clung to the sink, unbashfully letting out breathy “AH-AH-AH”s with every hard thrust that caused the warrior's heavy balls to slap into your own.

The man's hands slid from your hips and to your ass without a hitch in his pace, and you felt him spread your cheeks. You bit your lip to hide your smile, not needing to look to see the way the man is gazing down where you were joined. He loved watching the way his dick slid so easily into your ass, the way your hole bloomed for him with every thrust, mesmerized by how well you could take his thick, long cock like a champ. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I honestly went back and forth between writing this for a reader with a vagina and a penis and opted for the latter, as you can see, because I recognize the lack of work explicitly made for those with peni-dicks and I want y'all to know that I see you and you deserve some hot smut just like everyone else. I got you.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Kinktober Day 1: Dirty Talk

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Pre First Season of The Mandalorian

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Innocent teasing takes an unexpected turn.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: dirty talk, mutual pining, non-con dirty talk (both are into it), some humor, implied smut

Word Count: 847

In the time you had known the man, you were certain The Mandalorian wasn’t fond of you. Tolerated you, yes, but fond? Eh. And you were fine with that. Although, at one point, you had wondered if maybe the metal man had a thing for you.

It had been earlier on in your working relationship that you had noticed lingering stares when he thought you weren’t looking and unnecessary touches when he passed you by. Always finding ways to look and touch, but just for a moment. Never anything longer.

You were the Guild’s go-to hacker and resident tech genius, the person one would hire when they needed to get into someplace they couldn't get access to or a second set of eyes. It was on a surveillance job for Mando when you accidentally spilled your freshly made caf on yourself during a job and noticed the way Mando faltered in his step through one camera you had hacked.

At first, you thought you had imagined it and shrugged it off as a glitch. Nothing changed between you and Mando after, so you let it go. But when another incident involving smacking your knee hard into the bottom of your ship’s control board left you groaning into your mic unintentionally, your eyes flicked up to the monitor that had access to a camera in Mando’s helmet in time to see the stutter in his step from his own point of view.

You couldn’t hide the smile from spreading across your face even if you wanted to.

If you bumped or spilled anything while on a job with him, you ensured any groan or whimper would be followed by a breathy “fuck” that was probably more sensual than needed but you couldn’t help it. Watching his reactions from the safety of your ship brought you more satisfaction than they should have.

The touches grew longer and bolder, and he stopped being as careful about his lingering stare. The mindful but short-lived interactions were slowly being replaced with needier tension that oozed off of the Mandalorian in waves. It didn’t take long for others to notice as well, but when you weren’t in the safety of your ship, you played the role of cluelessly uninterested well enough. Maybe too well.

The groans, moans, whimpers, and sensual swears walked so that sultry responses to any of Mando’s work-related questions over the intercom could run. Some weren’t dirty, just the tone, others you turned into innuendos whenever you thought was subtly appropriate.

“The power behind the thrust was remarkable. When entering hyperspace, that is.”

“Is that what you came for? It’s so big, how will it fit? In your bag, I mean.”

“Have you ever wondered what happens to nuts in space? I need to stock up on my rations and I just realized I’ve never gotten a container of nuts before.”

“In regard to taste, the teabag was better the second time around. Remind me to lend you some next time we meet up, I think you’ll like the flavor.”

Listening to Mando’s hitch and change in breathing, the adjustments in his steps, and the deeper his voice became while talking to his bounties after hearing you brought you all the joy you needed. You were sure to mute yourself when you touched yourself but eventually became bold with that as well.

At the end of the day, Mando was still a man and even warriors have limits. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that enough was enough, but it did when after a particularly sensual moan and many slipped-in innuendos later that you heard the Mandalorian say “fuck it” to himself and abandoning the stakeout he had been occupying the last twenty-four hours.

You ripped your hand from your pants as you tried to understand what was going on. Was there an ambush? Did the quarry flee? Fuck, you were hired to do one job and you might’ve screwed this up for Mando. In your panic, flipping through cameras near and within the bounty’s hideout, you missed how fast the Mandalorian was running or how he wasn’t heading in the direction of his own ship.

Loud, consistent bangs ripped you from your thoughts and the yelp that left you was humiliating, wondering if the reason Mando abandoned his post was that the quarry had somehow realized the warrior wasn't working alone and that his partner was parked on the other side of the city from where he was hiding.

A gasp left your lips when, instead of seeing the bounty, your eyes took in the tall and imposing figure of the Mandalorian looking up at you through your own camera. You smoothed your hair and caught your breath before lowering the lamp, prepared to bombard the warrior with questions regarding the mission when he pushed you against the closest wall, chest heaving.

"M-mando?" you tried to keep your thoughts clear and willed yourself to ignore how hard he was as he ground himself against your hip.

“You’ve played your game for too long, it’s my turn. Now strip.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I know it's not full smut, but I wanted to play around with this with literal wordplay cause I love it when people are able to make anything sound dirty and we all know Din would go feral after a while. I have a few of these written but haven't had the time to post so expect a few back-to-backs in the next day or so. See all you horny sluts soon enough! Enjoy, it'll get spicier with the other shorts.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

KINKTOBER 2022

Due to my current obsession being Mando, I'm dedicating the whole list to just Din. Sorry, everyone. I love Ezra but I felt weird only writing for two men instead of more, but I don't feel as strongly about other characters as I do with Din so I don't want anyone to get their expectations or hopes up.

But for now, if you're a slut for Din like me, enjoy the upcoming fics! I may switch a few days around depending on factors or switching out the kinks but for now, this is my official list.

DAY 1: Dirty Talk (Din Djarin x GN!Reader)

DAY 2: Cockwarming (Din Djarin x GN!Reader)

DAY 3: Anal (Din Djarin x M!Reader)

DAY 4: Shibari (Din Djarin x F!Reader)

DAY 5: Fucking Machine (Din Djarin x F!Reader) Part 1 | Part 2

DAY 6: Sex Pollen (Din Djarin x reader)

DAY 7: Spanking (Din Djarin x M!reader)

On a Hot, Hot Day (Din x Reader Insert)

Sequel to On a Cold, Cold Night.

Post The Mandalorian season 2, Pre-Book of Boba Fett

Summary: On a desert planet with the looming threat of a sandstorm rolling in, you find a ghost from your past buried in the dunes with you being his only chance at survival before the storm hits.

Rating: T

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, depiction of depression, brief but mild mention of attempted suicide, alcoholism, and a shit ton of FLUFF.

Word Count: 8,180

On a hot, hot day, the double suns above caressed your skin like an overzealous lover that caused sweat to drip from your hairline and pool uncomfortably in the dip of your lower back. In front of you: home. Behind you: a gale wails in agony as a large tsunami sand wall races after you. The wind whipped at your face, your goggles your only form of protection from stray sand plucked from the ground from the acceleration of your speeder bike, racing against time and nature.

Based on the placement of the nefarious suns, you calculated you had about ten minutes left before you reached the safety of your dwelling and the sandstorm hit, the howling behind you letting you know you had about twenty before the desert blizzard hit and would strand you for a few days once you got home. And just as you approached the ruins of an old temple, the last landmark of your journey, the brightness of something metallic shining in the harsh, desert light nearly blinded you into crashing into a broken column. You wanted to pull your goggles aside to wipe your eyes so badly, but the threat of sand making the sting worse and scraping your face stopped you from doing so.

At first, your mind chalked up the metallic shine to a scrap the Jawas had left behind or hadn’t found yet. But as you passed the ruins, the last stretch of the landmark approaching, you couldn’t help but rethink your assessment. When do the Jawas ever leave anything behind, and when are they ever not aware of alien scrap in their desert? Against your better judgment, you turned your speeder around to hunt down whatever it was that caught your eye. Whether it was curiosity or a nagging feeling on the back of your neck not caused by the suns, you couldn’t say. But something beckoned you either way and who were you to not heed its call?

Your eyes picked up the shine of silver and you had to squint through your goggles to keep your focus on whatever had caught your attention as you approached it. Wavering between broken pieces of the forgotten building jetting out of the sands and ducking when the wind threw something larger than a pebble at you from the intensity of the approaching storm, you finally found the source of what caught your attention.

You parked your speeder and hopped off, approaching what at first looked like a heap of shiny metal untouched by time, your excitement of having an easy payout dampening your logic. But as you grew closer, the scrap turned into the form of a large man, sprawled halfway buried in a dune. Your heart raced at the discovery and ran to the figure to aid them, but immediately froze when you took in the specific details you hadn't seen from afar. 

The body was a Mandalorian.

The helmet’s black strip for eyes bore right into you, daring you to come any closer. You matched its intensity behind your own goggles, body rigid, unsure if the man was waiting to see who’d make the first move. But he didn’t budge. A gust of wind shoved you towards him, making your decision for you. The push nearly had you fall face first into the sand, but you managed to land safely on your knees instead. But when you realized how close the wind had brought you to the Mandalorian in front of you, your head snapped up waiting for the man to strike.

But nothing came.

The gust that pushed you had shoved more sand onto his body, burying him further. And a reminder of the storm that had been nipping at your heels for the past hour. You glanced towards the sea of sand, now much closer than what was comfortable, and you turn back to the Mandalorian. 

“Fuck.”

You stomp the ground in irritation at your good heart and started to scoop the sand away until more of the Mandalorian’s body surfaced. When enough was out of the way, he slumped against you and it took everything in you not to fall over from his weight. Another glance back at the storm told you you had fifteen minutes to get home, and the heavy body in your arms made you wonder if the rescue was even worth it. Was the man under the armor even alive? If he was, would he survive at all if you just left him there?

Knowing the answer and not liking either outcome, it took everything in you to drag the legendary warrior out from the rest of the sand. From his satchel, empty bottles of the local whiskey rolled out, one stopping at the toe of your boot. You scrunched your brow but knew you didn’t have time to analyze this new discovery. With strained muscles that screamed with every step you took, you manage to drag the Mandalorian back to your speeder and with great effort, flung him onto his stomach on the bike and hopped on behind him, taking off with one hand on his back in a weak attempt to keep him from slipping.

Over the roar of the speeder and the approaching storm, you couldn’t be too sure but you thought you heard a weak moan from the man. The thought made your heart flutter with hope and relief that he was alive, but you decided to celebrate later in the shelter of your home.

By the time you made it to the mouth of the cave where the back wall had a single wooden door built into a natural hole in the stone, the storm was minutes away from swallowing you and your metal companion alive. It had become near impossible to both steer and try to keep the Mandalorian from falling, and you thanked whatever deity was out there that they gifted you the luck to get you both home alive and safe.

With haste, you secured your speeder once in the cave’s mouth and fastened an anchor and protective cloth over it. Throwing your backpack over your shoulders, you tugged the Mandalorian off the bike and ungracefully dragged him the ten feet it took to get to your front door, nervously fumbling with the keys to unlock it, and slamming the door shut the moment you both were securely inside. You barely had enough time to lock the door and slam the barricade blocks down to keep the door from blasting open when the storm finally hit. The winds and sand screamed and wailed and scratched at the thickness of the door and the stone walls of your home, but had no effect on the strength of the wooden door and its built-in barricade. You were able to let go of the breath you didn’t know you were even holding, shoulders slumping in the relief you hadn’t felt in maybe two years.

The place you called home was a humble abode carved into the cave itself from perhaps centuries prior with the help of both man and nature. You had found it by accident about a year ago when you were out scavenging for things to sell to get by on the desert planet. It had been mostly hidden by the dunes and the harsh contrast of sun on stone, the shadows cast over the rock formations made the entrance look like a dip in the rock and nearly undetectable to the naked eye.

Although the structure had long been abandoned, you were surprised to find a bed frame and basic pieces of furniture made of solid wood left behind. It wasn't a lot, just enough for you to use until you could make the place more livable and homey. And despite the primitiveness of the house, you found whoever had made it their own had gone out of their way to use every crevice in a modern way. Dips in the walls were used as shelving and a fireplace and stove were built into the stone's crevices like they had belonged there all along.

You had been especially shocked to find that the home had a working natural sanistream, the tub a deep dip carved in the ground within the grotto. Whoever had carved it created a piping system that utilized the planet’s natural pockets of water deep in the ground without damaging the natural formation perfect for the tub. Between a working bath, toilet, and sinks; you felt like you had hit the jackpot of indiscreet housing that was both practical and comfortable all at once.

Glancing down, you finally took in your new companion for the next few days. Your eyes roamed over his body freely now that you no longer had the threat of the storm whipping at your backs.

You couldn’t tell how badly the man was hurt or where he was hurt exactly from the black thickness of his flight suit and the armor he wore. With a shaky hand, you slipped off a glove and bent down, slowly reaching for the man's neck to give him time to stop you if he truely was alive and perhaps even awake. When he didn't snatch at you or groan in defiance, you dug your two fingers under his cowl until you felt the texture of human skin. 

It was cold and clammy, but the faint pulse promised you a sliver of the man’s chance at survival now that you’ve found him. You swore, grateful that he was alive, but panicking now that you knew you had three days to either revive this man like the dying houseplant he was or live with a corpse for the next few days.

Refusing to think twice, you immediately began disrobing him of the heaviest of his armor and gear. The cowl came off easily, but you fumbled for far too long with this breastplate and vambraces. Your fingers went numb with the effort, and no relief came when you tossed the armor aside once it was free. Your hands rested on the indented cheekbones of his helmet and you hesitated. Was there a rule about this? You genuinely couldn’t remember, and it wasn’t like you had time to search for an answer on your datapad anyway.

With trembling hands, you unclasped the helmet and slid it off slowly, inch by inch until a firm jaw with disheveled salt and pepper facial hair was revealed, followed by extremely chapped lips, a sharp nose, and a mop of dark brown curls. You placed the helmet on the ground with more reverence, eyes roaming over the man’s face, fingertips brushing his features.

The Mandalorian’s face and neck were flushed, other parts ashen. His breathing had quickened since taking off his armor, his chest heaving with exertion and discomfort. Your hand jerked back when his eyelids fluttered open and you couldn't stop the hiss from escaping your teeth at the glossed-over look his eyes gave you. Through you, not at you. This was worse than you thought. He mumbled something you couldn’t make out, a shaky hand raising as if to touch you, but his arm fell limp and his eyes rolled in the back of his head. You immediately cupped his cheeks and gently shook his head, willing him to reopen his eyes, but he was out. 

“Kriff.”

You quickly stripped yourself of your own gear, kicking your boots into a box with slippers and some flats, and hanging your outer layers and the Mandolorian’s satchel on a rack beside the door. You turned to face the man in question, wincing. 

“I’ll be right back, just... just going to put this away. Okay?”

You awkwardly held up your backpack of supplies as if he could see it, then skittered off to the kitchen. You unceremoniously dropped each item in its place, including a hole in the natural rock formation that had been turned into a natural refrigerator, and booked it back to the warrior. You sighed, rolling your neck, already feeling how bad your knees and back will ache when you drag the Mandalorian deeper into your home and to your precious sanistream. You’re already looking forward to drawing a hot bath for yourself when the temperature that night drops and the Mandalorian rests. But for now, his life was in your hands.

With a strength and determination you hadn’t felt since your time on the run, you wrapped your arms under the warrior's armpits and dragged the Mandalorian towards your sanistream. You willed yourself on through bated breath and sweat threatening to blind you as it dripped from your hairline. Through eroded hallways smoothed over with time and water from times long gone by and lit with bioluminescent moss-grown as lamps, your back and knees screamed for a break but you knew if you stopped you’d struggle to find it in you to continue again.

The man in your arms groaned weakly only a few times during your trip to the fresher, but otherwise remained still. You nearly cried from relief once you make it to the fresher, the curtain hung up for privacy a beacon of success. The ribbon at the end of a long race. With a burst of energy, you pulled the Mandalorian the rest of the way in and slumped to the ground with him in your arms, your back against the wall, panting. Your clothes clung to you with your sweat despite how cool the cave kept the abode naturally.

The bathroom glowed a warm yellow from the bioluminescent moss, bright enough to see what was important, but soft and dull enough to be kind on strained eyes and tired minds. The never got over how romantic the moss made your home feel in the darkest of spaces, reminding you of something straight out of a fairytale your adopted mother had read to you as a child. 

With the first moment of peace you’ve had since finding the warrior and the storm, you’re able to really feel him against you. Broad shoulders and a strong body that unintentionally flexed wherever you touched him. And with him so close and the elements no longer a threatening distraction, you’re able to truly smell him and you realize he reeks of alcohol. You couldn’t stop your nose from scrunching at the newfound stench and gag from the sweetness that only came from the whiskey bottles you had found him with in the dune. Had he been drinking and wandered off into the desert one night after having one too many? Being out there sober without protection was already a death wish, but drunk?

As gently as you could, you dragged the warrior with weak arms and legs to the sanistream’s tub and thanked whatever god was out there that the original owners thought to utilize the natural formation in the rock rather than build a tub. You weren’t sure how you would’ve gotten the Mandalorian in otherwise and your back ached at the idea. 

Laying the man down next to the tub, you carefully pushed his hair out of his face and wiped away the sweat from around his eyes with the delicate touch of your fingers, heart clenching for him. You really hoped he pulled through.

You barely had the energy to unlace let alone take off his shoes. You ended up ripping them off the moment they were loose enough, and tossed them somewhere behind you to be collected when the man was more stable. You sighed through trembling fingers to unbutton and unzip the flight suit, struggling to peel the thick fabric from the man’s torso, and cursing when you saw yet another shirt hiding beneath. You managed to lift his shoulders enough to slide the flight suit off, then nearly ripped the shirt trying to tug it off with the grace of a newborn bantha. 

You tossed the shirt aside and worked the flight suit under him, struggling to hold his hips up as you slid the offending garment down and had to yank them over thick thighs and calves. Not that it mattered in a medical sense, but you were thankful he had at least worn long johns underneath the suit. Yet you still peeled that article down as well and were even more relieved to see the man wore brief shorts underneath. You forgot just how cold space could get.

With one last burst of energy, you managed to drag him into the tub with you and let him rest against you as you took a moment to catch your breath, his weight falling on you knocking the air out of you. You reached over and turned a knob, welcoming the ice-cold water as it filled the tub. The sudden coldness jolted you and your flinch caused the Mandalorian to groan. You rubbed his arm in an apology, waiting for the tub to fill enough.

Once the water height engulfed the man enough to help bring his temperature down but not enough to drown him if he were to slide or slouch, you carefully slid out from under him and placed his head softly against the tub’s edge.

His breathing had calmed and when you placed your hands on his face, you were relieved to feel the skin was less clammy and had lost a little of its flush from the cool relief. You let your fingers drag down to his neck and your shoulders relaxed, feeling the pulse beneath your fingers beat a little stronger.

Convinced he wouldn’t drown, you hesitantly parted from the warrior, giving him one long last glance, then allowed your tired legs to carry you back to your home’s entrance. Outside, the wind continues to scream and sand scratches to get in, but they fall on deaf ears as you collect the Mandalorian’s armor and helmet and carry it to your room, briefly checking in on the man as you pass the fresher.

The only rooms not needing the bioluminescent moss were the rooms on the upper incline of the cave where they each had large holes turned windows facing the desert. Large sheets of the same transparisteel used on ships had been wedged into place and protected the rooms from the harsh and unforgiving desert environment. By the time you had found the place, the thickness of the space glass had aged with dust, still not enough to block the view but enough to make it look smokey and orange. 

The space you designated yours had been an abandoned bedroom, the furniture still there but collecting dust. From what you could tell, it might’ve been a couple’s room. No photos had been left behind to give you a clue as to who once lived there, so you couldn’t confirm, but the hunch was formed by the size of the bed along with the amount of space the wardrobes and vanity had. Far too much space for just one person, but you weren’t complaining. Especially after living in the tightest, most uncomfortable places while on the run all those years ago. It almost felt like a gift from the gods, and you accepted it with gratitude. 

You had to replace the sheets and clean the mattress and rugs, but after that and a good dusting, everything was as good as new. Minus the windows, which you cleaned the inside of but couldn’t for the life of you bring yourself to clean the outside. Maybe one day you’ll get a droid for that. One day.

The geometric rugs kept the room warm at night and the stone walls kept it cool during the day. When you needed the light, and the desert was kind, the stars and moon were often enough. But when a storm raged, just as it was now and you couldn’t see a thing out of the window, you settled on using old lamps that used bantha fat and oil, resources easy to obtain and took awhile to burn through. 

You were greeted to your room bathed in a dark orange hue, the furniture drenched in long shadows. Your bare feet patted over the soft rugs and over to the vanity where you placed the armor on its table, the last being the helmet that was tucked under your arm.

You held the helmet in your hands, gazing down at the black strip. It stirred a memory for you, of a snowy planet and an abandoned cabin. Of a time when you had been on the run from an abusive slave owner who had taken your adopted family away from you. Had taken you far from the life you were comfortably living.

After breaking your arm and being ill-prepared for a blizzard, you honestly thought your end had come. All the running, killing stealing... it had felt all for naught but you welcomed the embrace of death as it reached for you. You barely remember the day before the storm hit or the days waiting it out, just the moment you had come to, bandaged up and with a comlink waiting for you on your dresser containing the half-assed obituary declaring you dead.

The only memory, if you could call it that, from those blurry days was of a Mandalorian. Tall, broad, and hovered over you like the personification of Death. You remember trying to reach out to him and touch him, but that was it. For the longest time, despite your wounds being bandaged, the cabin boarded up, a fire waiting for you, and even some cooked food in the fridge… you had wondered if you had hallucinated him. If maybe a kind stranger had shown up and you mistook them for a Mandalorian or if you had in your delirium done it all and just didn’t remember it.

But gazing down at the helmet, you knew that the Mandalorian had been real. The lullabies sung to you were too far away for you to make out the lyrics, but the melody was close enough now to tickle your ear from time to time. You often dreamed up stories of places you had never been to, with creatures you had never seen. And some part of you, deep down, knew that they hadn't been made up by your brain. The Mandalorian haunted you in all the best ways possible, the personification of Death turned into one of a guardian angel. 

The Mandalorian had been Death incarnate if you hadn’t been injured. If you hadn’t been sick. He probably would have dragged you back to your owner with no mercy and you wouldn't be alive in this beautiful home in the desert with luxuries you didn’t know existed for people like you. Your near-death experience gave you a chance at life.

It’s why seeing the Mandalorian out in the dunes had startled you. The memory, although comforting, reminded you that you had been the man’s prey if you hadn’t luckily unlucky with your health. And seeing another Mandalorian so close to your desert home made you wonder if he was also a bounty hunter. And if he was, did it mean you had a bounty on your head again? Were people aware you actually were alive and well? And what about the alcohol?

But most importantly… was this the same Mandalorian from all those years ago? His armor had been red if you remembered right, and the armor in front of you was pure silver. 

You shook your head and placed the helmet on the vanity’s countertop, too fatigued to compare the warrior of your past and the warrior of your present. You hesitantly let the helmet go, but not before you let yourself get caught up in its blank stare. It took everything in you to pull away from its grip and willed yourself out of the room.

The warrior hadn’t drowned when you returned, and his body was less flushed and clammy. When you took his pulse, gratitude washed over you that the man was on his way to recovery. The worst appeared to be over, but it would still take a few days before he’d become coherent again.

You drained the tub and pulled out a towel to wipe him down. You struggled to get the man dry, sliding back into the tub with him. You attempted to pull him out but the strain in your back and knees reminded you of the daunting task at hand to get him into your room and you swore. You really were going to need that hot bath later.

The towels had been too small to use to drag him back, so you opted to get your spare sheet and yanked the warrior onto it after managing to drag him out of the tub. With most of his body on the cloth, you managed to drag him the rest of the way to your room and dropped the sheet to the ground once it was next to your bed with a huff. 

You couldn’t tell how much time had passed thanks to the storm, but based on how much dimmer the room was, you guessed it was approaching evening. Your legs felt as if they’d give out on you when you stood, but you ignored the weakness in favor of turning the lamps on before it got too dark and you had to fumble your way in the darkness.

Glancing over at the warrior’s slumped figure, you sighed and prayed to the gods for one last second wind.

You wrapped your arms under his and with the last bit of your strength, you manage to get him onto your bed in an ungraceful sprawl just as your body finally gave out from the strain. 

You let yourself lay on the ground, staring up at the stone ceiling. You allowed your body to feel the deep aches, cradling the discomfort and reminding yourself it wasn’t permanent. You listened to the Mandalorian above you breathe deeply, the very life inhaling and exhaling through his nose was like a melody, lulling you to a doze. 

From your place on the ground, you watched as the room went from a deep orange to nearly black, the death of the day witnessed with gratitude from your unmoving spot. The oil lamps were your only source of light, and where the sun through the storm bathed the room in oranges, the lamps washed the room in yellow pastels. 

Shaking the sleep from your head and rolling the fatigue out of your shoulders, you groaned as you sat up and leaned against the mattress for emotional and physical support. When you were ready, you dragged yourself to the kitchen and made yourself the simplest food you could make with whatever was left over of your energy, mindful of making enough for two.

When you came back, you placed the bowls of soup on the nightstand next to a canteen of water. You looked over your guest now that he didn't have armor or his suit in the way. The man was, at least to the naked eye, doing much better. But his flushed skin had turned sickly and his lips now bled from being cracked and dry. It was hard not to feel worried. 

You helped him sit up and cradled him in the crook of your arm. You took the canteen from the nightstand and did your best to unscrew it, then held it up to the warrior’s mouth. You helped him tilt his head back until a little water trickled through his lips. His Adam’s apple barely bobbed, barely accepting the gift at the alter of his sickbed, just enough for him to let out a content sigh and become even limper in your arms and you carefully laid him back down and tucked just the top sheet around his shivering body. 

You decided to feed yourself and relax your back, allowing the Mandalorian to sleep a little longer before attempting to feed him. When you were done, you cleaned your bowls and left them in the sink, and returned to his side with a damp washcloth. 

You cleaned the sweat from his forehead, brushed his hair out of his face, and dabbed at the places you knew would bring the most relief. When the washcloth was no longer cold, you went back to dip it in water and returned, placing it on his forehead and leaving it to rest there. 

You washed his clothes and hung them up to dry, not before emptying pockets of the most random items outside of weaponry accessories, including a round silver ball that you cradled in the palm of your hand. Despite its simplicity, you sense the object had enough meaning for the Mandalorian to want to carry it on his person and you placed it on the nightstand for him to wake up to when he was ready to return to the land of the living. But you failed to find any evidence that the man was a bounty hunter. At least not a bounty hunter looking for you. 

Slipping into your bed beside him, you rubbed his arms and ran your fingers through his hair and hummed to him, a tune from your own childhood and a tune you vaguely remember from the days spent incapacitated on the snowy planet. You told him stories of your travels, and what you had done since the incident you’ve dubbed “The Miracle.”

You weren’t sure if the man was the Mandalorian that had saved your life, but you decided to talk to him as if he was. It was strangely comforting, like talking to an old friend after a lifetime apart. You talked to him with the same familiarity you had with your family, the familiarity that you missed with your whole being. It was bittersweet, but you welcomed the feeling with open arms.

You laid next to him the rest of the night, dabbing at his forehead with the washcloth when he groaned in his sleep and holding him to your breast when he threatened to thrash around whether it was from a nightmare or discomfort. Caring for the big man in your arms felt so familiar and comforting despite not knowing if he was there by coincidence or if he had planned on turning you in. He was clearly a seasoned professional based on the weaponry you pried off of him, and that fact confused you more as to how he had allowed himself to nearly perish in the desert, far from civilization. How had he gotten there? And why?

You never did get that bath you wanted, but you didn’t complain. The discomfort was a reminder that you still had a lot to live for, and the man in your bed was a reminder of your own miracle. 

When morning came, just before the sun rose, you pried yourself from the Mandalorian and found some old curtains hidden away. You installed them just as the sun started to peek through the angry winds and sands billowing by the window. It kept the room relatively dark without completely blocking out the light and you were happy to discover it made the room that much cooler when the heat of the day radiated through the transparisteel and cloth. 

When you changed out the washcloths you had placed on his chest, neck, and forehead; you wandered down to the kitchen to make breakfast, rubbing your eyes and feeling the fatigue from the last twenty-four hours. The lack of sleep breathed down your neck, but it was far from claiming you despite the threat.

You rummaged through each built-in pantry and the fridge with eyes half open, taking out what you needed to make a type of cinnamon oatmeal you hadn’t had since your childhood. Pouring it into two bowls, you made your way back to your room as the warrior began to stir.

Heart rate speeding up, you placed the bowls on the nightstand and were at his side in a second, holding his hand. He struggled to wiggle out of the sheets, but was otherwise completely out. You rubbed his arm and made soothing noises, assuring him that he was okay. Your touch seemed to soothe him, and he sighed, stilling in place.

You propped him up against you in the crook of your arm and helped him eat, cooing words of encouragement with each successful scoop until the bowl was empty. You set the bowl down and changed out his washcloths, then finally allowed yourself to eat your own breakfast. You watched over the warrior with empathy. 

When you placed the bowls in the kitchen sink, instead of returning to the warrior’s side, your feet led you back to your front door. Outside, the angry howls of the wind had softened and the scratchy sand was less threatening against your door and the walls. The storm was thankfully almost over, give or take another day or two. But your eyes fell to what you had really come there for: the Mandalorian’s satchel, hanging from the rack on your wall just where you had left it. Guilt gnawed at you, but you had to know why the warrior was out in the desert like a sacrificial lamb and what that meant for you when he awakens.

With trembling hands, you take the satchel and sit on the floor, your legs naturally crisscrossing beneath you. You open the satchel and slide your hand in, the room too dark for you to fully see what was in the bag. You took out a few pouches of credits, enough to make your eyebrows nearly rise off your face. You gently kept them in a pile so as to not lose them, ensuring they were tightly shut.

Just like his clothes, you pulled out the most random items, the most prominent objects in the bag being more of the empty bottles of whiskey you had found with him in the dune.

One, two, three… you weren’t even sure how many there had been when you found him in the desert. And with reluctant unease, you concluded that the man wasn’t there for you, nor had he wandered into the desert after a night of drinking. He had purposefully found that place in the sand with every intent on letting the alcohol and harsh weather take him from this life. You couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks even if you wanted to.

Wiping the stray tears away, you continued to pull out items that thankfully didn’t feel like bottles anymore, but profound sadness was replaced with confusion when the items in question were discovered to be baby essentials. A clean handmade onesie, a few clean cloth diapers, an empty baby bottle, and two small hand-stitched stuffed animals. One looked like a half-assed bantha, the other resembled a frog you recalled seeing on Sorgan. 

You nearly dropped the items and the bag as if they had burned you. You scrambled to shove everything back in and hang the satchel back up, your heart racing and heavy in your chest. You let your tears stream down your face, welcoming the painful potential truths you had just learned regarding the man in your bed. Whether the child those items were for was dead or just no longer with him, you weren’t sure, but your heart went out to him either way. You understood the pain of losing parents, but a child?

To keep your thoughts from spiraling, you spent the next day in a strict routine. Replace the Mandalorian’s washcloths, dampen the top sheet to give him comfort, feed him easy-to-swallow foods, and rest by his side when there wasn’t anything else to do but wait.

On the third night, you listened to the final stages of the storm outside as you rested in your bed with the warrior. You turned and faced him, unable to sleep. You had snuffed out the lamps an hour ago and could only make out his features from what little light the moon was able to give you through the fading storm.

You placed your hand over his heart, softly smiling at how much stronger the beat of his life felt beneath your palm. His breathing had evened out earlier, his face only slightly flushed and skin no longer clammy. You suspect he’ll wake up within the next twenty-four hours, and you were still deciding on if you wanted to stick around for that or not.

So you made the most of the night, holding him to you, humming, and telling him any other stories you had forgotten to mention. You pretended he had been that Mandalorian that saved you all that time ago, regardless if he was, thanking him and whispering about how good of a man he is. You sensed maybe he thought otherwise, and you couldn't leave without him knowing. Even if it only came to him at night in the form of a faded melody.

You had no idea if he could hear you, but in a hushed tone, you begged him to continue living. Whether his baby was out there waiting for him in another galaxy or in another life. You told him you relate to his pain in your own way, that you had empathy even if you couldn't fully understand it, and reminded him of how proud he should be of himself for the good things he had done rather than focus on the sins he may or may not have committed. 

You packed your things as the storm gave one last swan song before fading into the sands of time. In the early morning hours of a new day being born, you admired the man you had shared the last few days with. In the blue light, he looked like a painting. His face was now at ease, pain-free, eyelashes resting softly on his cheeks rather than scrunched with discomfort.

Standing next to the bed with only what you could carry on you just as you had since and just as you will continue to do, you realized in the light of a new day that this was how you wanted to remember the Mandalorian, you realized. Not as Death personified, or as a dying warrior in an unforgiving desert. But as a man who had lost his way and found a second chance in the form of a girl who he hesitantly saved all those years ago.

You'd be gone by the time the sun peeked over the horizon. Whether it was the fear of the bounty hunter having a change of heart, or telling others where you were, that you were alive… you couldn’t risk it. But you left behind enough for the Mandalorian to know that, even if it was just the briefest of moments, he had been loved and cared for and seen even if he didn’t think he deserved it. And someday, you hope he could forgive you for saving him just as he had saved you all those years ago. 

But before you could go, there was just one last goodbye you had to leave behind. 

Din had expected to either wake up in the dark void that awaited all Mandalorian who had lost their way, a pit at the end of one’s treacherous life where they're left to rot away from the memories of those who live on; or to wake up in the dreamy realm among the stars where his memory is honored by Grogu and maybe even Cara and Karga and anyone else who might’ve deemed him worthy of glory for all eternity.

He hadn’t expected to wake up with a nasty migraine, nearly naked in a bed that was not his cot in a room that was not his own in a house that he definitely didn’t live in. 

Panic began to set in, but Din’s muscles were far too fatigued to move faster than Endorrian tree sap. The most he could do was weakly sit up until he was able to prop himself against the wall behind him with a heavy groan.

Din blinked away the heaviness of sleep from his eyes, wincing at what little light that the dark curtains allowed in. The strip of light was enough to highlight basic furniture in the room, including the bed he was in and the entryway of the door. His flight suit, long johns, and undershirt had been folded for him and sat at the foot of the bed, waiting for him to wake up. 

He strained his ears but Din failed to hear evidence of anyone else in the stone home with him. He truly was alone, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that just yet.

Din allowed himself to relax, hands dumbly resting on his lap over the sheets. He struggled to recall the last of his memories. Din vaguely remembered the Jedi's rejection to see his son and his heart throbbed remembering the exile from his covert before that, the sting of nowhere else to go…

Din truly thought he had nothing else to live for. With Grogu training to be a Jedi with no promise Din would ever see him again, his covert’s rejection, being the ruler of a dead planet, and not knowing if the waters the armorer had mentioned even existed for his redemption… Din had left his N-1 with Peli along with whatever else he couldn’t carry, gifting what remained of him to the unknowing mechanic. He hadn’t been sure what his plan was, just that he wanted the pain to stop. To have the noise in his head stop. To have the ache in his heart just stop. He wanted whatever relief he could be given. 

He remembered thanking the Maker that whiskey and other alcohols found their way back into cantinas after the Hutts’ downfall. Din remembered getting as many bottles as he could with whatever credits he had on his body and made the final trek into the desert, convinced he’d never return. He remembered finding the best spot to watch the suns rise, lifting his helmet back enough, and losing track of the swigs he took of the alcohol before blacking out. 

Din at least had enough sense to be horrified with his choices in that moment of pain and rejection now that he was sober and awake.

With a grunt and more effort than he cared to admit, Din managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed and rub his face into his hands, deciding to freak out over the fact he’s been helmet-less later on. One crisis at a time. 

The light caught something shiny and Din turned his attention to the nightstand and froze. Grogu’s silver ball sat there, patiently waiting for him to notice it. It sat on top of a photograph of a familiar cabin on a snowy planet he vaguely remembered years ago, but the fatigue and migraine of surviving yet another near-death experience prevented him from connecting those dots.

Din sighed and inched over to his flight suit, grabbing the now clean material, and he chuckled at how it was probably the cleanest it has been since he first bought it. He pulled each article on sluggishly, and if he hadn’t been so tired he would’ve been embarrassed by the slowness of his movements. 

Once dressed, he stumbled over to the vanity on weak legs and clung to the counter when he got to it for dear life. He glanced up at the mirror and flinched at his reflection, taking in how hollow his eyes were and just how pale he had allowed himself to become from his own negligence. But he had more color in his eyes and face than he previously remembered, something he guessed was thanks to whoever nursed him back to health.

This time, he purposefully re-clasped his armor to his body with the same reverence he had when cleaning his weapons. A holy ceremony he cherished through and through. Once dressed with the shine of his religion, he paused, admiring the polish job his host had given it. 

Din stared down at his helmet with the same animosity it had towards him. Judging him, reminding him that he no longer was a Mandalorian. But he couldn’t find it in him to give up the armor nor the helmet, regardless of the shame he felt.

When he lifted the helmet, he was surprised to find something fluttered out from underneath it. When Din bent down, he gasped, touching the offending item with unsure hands. He stood up, staring at the photograph with horror and awe. It was of him, laying in the very bed he had woken up in. The morning light outlined the sharpness of his features while softening the age from his forehead and eyes and the scars that littered his body.

It was the first time Din ever thought of himself as anything other than ordinary. Was this how his caretaker viewed him? He couldn’t help but blush, grateful that someone could see him in a light he never thought was possible. That that kind of softness and gentleness was available to people like him, regardless of the things he had done.

Din flipped the photograph over to see handwriting scrawled on the back. It read:

“In case we never meet again, you are a good man, Mandalorian. Never forget that. I know I haven’t.”

Din grew dizzy and had to cling to the vanity again as the familiarity of the cabin photo and now dawned on him. The snowy planet, the cabin, a quarry… had his caretaker really been the girl from all those years ago? 

As Din collected his things, he found more photos scattered here and there throughout the humble abode. Din wasn’t sure if his caretaker had intended to leave them behind for him to find, or if she had just forgotten in her haste to leave, but Din found comfort in them. 

They were photos of places Din didn’t recognize from the girl’s journal, ones that she must have taken well after Din had saved her life. Was this her way of thanking him? Of telling him she’s lived life fully since he let her go? 

Back then, he hadn’t had the heart to bring her in warm or cold when she was recovered enough. He had rememberd the digital photo he had taken of her when he first found her and was unsure of her likelihood of survival. When he had his change of heart, Din had sent the photo to the man who put a bounty on her head and claimed she was dead. The man bought it, no questions asked, but only gave Din half the credits promised. Din couldn’t find himself to mind it. 

When he saw the half-assed obituary the man wrote, he sent it to the com he left behind for her to use when she was recovered enough. He wasn’t sure until that moment that she had gotten it, and he’s relieved to know she had. Din hoped he found it as humorous as he had.

Not sure if she planned on coming back or not, Din ended up pocketing every photo he found regardless. He grabbed his things and a canteen of water the girl must’ve left behind for him and left the home behind, preparing himself for the long trek back to Peli and the optimism he now had for the future. 

The photos ended up getting him through the desert, back to Peli where he got an earful from the eccentric woman for disappearing on her, and to the next planet. They became his safety blanket at hotels and after lonely trips to brothels, and he had kept them close to his heart under his armor when he was called to help Boba back on Tatooine and had expected to die in combat.

Grogu coming back into his care was not part of the plan, nor was surviving the whole ordeal, let alone succeeding. But the photos that became a massive source of comfort for Din became a source of comfort and hope for Grogu as well. Din would show him the photos before bed and tell him the stories he faintly remembered a soft voice telling him as he drifted in between consciousness.

This time, Din never forgot about her. He could vaguely recall how she looked, but it was her voice and the gentleness that lingered whenever he needed a reminder that there was kindness in the galaxy if you were patient enough to find it. And a reminder that the miracle he had given you that cold, cold night all those years ago ended up being the very miracle he needed to find one hot, hot day. It led him back to himself, his own creed, his son, and another chance at life after far too many second chances. 

The gentleness Din chose all those years ago led him to his own miracle. Thanks to her, he was finally free

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Contemplating some of my favorite fics and how I'm happy they exist but also sad AO3 doesn't have a chat option because I have some thots™️ I really want/need to talk to someone about but I don't have many friends who are as into Mando let alone Star Wars as I am or read Din x reader inserts (hence why I'm here).

So this is my Bat-signal for anyone out there who's read Babysitting for an Alpha by Much_Ado_Abt_Novels and or An Exchange of Credits by ninaloveshiddles to slide into my DMs to cry, rage, and gush with me over how beautiful these fics are and how they've honestly been living in my head rent free these past few weeks. Especially An Exchange of Credits the last chapter has had me angsting and yearning all week and I could use a support buddy right now.

Post The Mandalorian season 2, Pre-Book of Boba Fett: Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: The universe had a habit of pushing you and the Mandalorian together and tearing you apart at inconvenient times. With the Crest and Grogu gone and how expensive a new ship is, the universe forces the both of you to take on jobs that require you both to be away from each one other for long periods of time. To keep the love you have for one another strong in lonely stretches of space travel and planet-hopping, a compromise is made that tests your relationship.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Open relationships, smut, rough sex, romantic sex, F/F/M threesome (sort of), hook-ups, make-up sex, porn with plot, angst and fluff and smut, porn with feelings, unsafe sex, brief Din/OFC and reader/OMC. If I miss anything let me know!

This is the most romantic, filthiest thing I've ever written and probably not the most romantic filthiest thing I'm capable of writing, so enjoy the ride! The ending is worth it I promise!

Word Count: 7,197

The complication of the present is that there’s always an after. And where there’s an After, there’s a Before. A Before time, a Before moment, a Before person. Before choices affecting the After in ways one couldn’t begin to comprehend, and a cycle that tends to repeat itself.

Before there was Grogu, there was you. You, who took on more odd jobs than Din even knew existed. You, who went into every opportunity and job with enthusiasm that made Din’s reckless choices look like logical plans. You, who grated on his nerves when it was always you who could provide him with what he needed when no one else could. It was like the universe had created your very existence just to be his personal annoyance and greatest confidant. 

It wasn’t until After Grogu that Din was able to truly appreciate your spirit and tenacity. What he once believed to be a nuisance to his very existence was now as comforting as a child’s blanket. Over the years, just like the jobs in your life, things just fell into place not when he wanted them to, but when he needed them to. As if the universe and you were conspiring together to make him miserable and happy all at once. 

It was Before the Razor Crest was destroyed and Grogu had been taken by Moff Gideon when the line between friend and partner started to blend with lover. Underneath dark skies with the vast amount of stars twinkling down on them. Underneath the canopy of trees protecting you from the rain of whichever planet you met up. Underneath galaxies and supernovas and unforgiving suns on desert planets. 

The best job that fell into place after all that time wasn’t working as a translator for some noble or speech writer for a corrupt politician. It was being his missing piece, the very thing that filled the black hole in his heart right next to the one that Grogu filled. He thought when he got the kid back, the After would be you and him and the green bean finding a new ship and traveling off into the great, wide void, happily ever after. Wherever the universe took them, they’d go willingly.

He hadn’t expected such a different After.

Din hadn’t expected Grogu to be taken from him the moment he got him back. Din hadn’t expected to inherit a dead planet. Din hadn’t expected to be broke with no son and no covert to go back to and no Creed. If the universe worked so hard and for so long for his clan of three to be together, then why was it working so hard to keep them apart again?

That’s how you went back to the original Before. The Before where you took on more odd jobs than Din knew existed. The Before where he was nothing but a cold bounty hunter, married to his Creed. The Before where the universe was cruel and annoyed him and put everything it possibly could in his path to make him absolutely miserable. 

But it wasn’t as bad as the original Before. Sort of. He still had you. 

After Grogu was reunited with the Jedi, after Din inherited a dead planet, after the Crest was blown up and everything he knew crumbled in his hands; he begrudgingly agreed to buy a small property on whatever planet you both could afford. It would serve as a home base while you found work and saved enough to buy a ship and finally have that After you both originally thought you'd have. The After you both deserved. 

Din reinstated his membership with the Guild and you hustled for whatever job landed in front of you, regardless if it was dangerous or demeaning. It was what started your first major fight, when he found out you had pimped out your body to some rich senator while finishing a different job in Coruscant for enough credits to both feed you for a month and also make a dent in your ship funds. 

Din knew you hadn’t slept with the man out of infidelity, he just wished you had at least talked to him about that option before acting on it. But he also knew it was your body and your choice and he respected it. But that didn’t stop the hurt from taking root in his chest. Or the damage his pride took, knowing that you had to resort to that when he could barely afford public transportation to and from the Guild with a quarry. 

Din knew he was being irrational and cruel. But with the pain from everything the universe had thrown at him in the Aftermath of losing it all, Din took up a job through the guild that would pay almost as much as pimping yourself out had but would also keep him away from you for a number of months. Something he had agreed not to do, the both of you coming to the conclusion that no amount of money was worth being too far from one another for too long.

But the Aftermath left him hurt and hollow and prideful, and with very little communication, he took off one morning while you were still asleep for the bounty that would keep him away from you for a few months.

He watched Jakku, the only fucking planet he could afford to even buy you a house on, grew smaller and smaller and his heart ached worse and worse with every mile wedged between you two. Din regretted the way he left instantly, knowing you’d wake up cold in your shared bed to an empty house with half the armory gone. No goodbye, no lingering hugs or Keldabe kisses…

When the first month crept around the corner, Din was miserable. He missed you so much. He missed your gentle touches and laughter and the way you made the morning caf better than him. He missed the Crest and his son and his independence. He hated every transport ship he had to take, but he’d remember how you sold your body and the hurt and anger had him suck up the discomfort and pain and the yearning he had for you.

That was what might’ve led him to nearly make a horrible mistake.

He had finally caught the quarry after two months of playing cat and mouse. Din had cut off the man’s head, as he had done with other quarries, and stuffed it in a burlap bag. His adrenaline was high, chest heaving from the kill, and that was when he ran into her.

She was a random woman on some random planet but god, she looked so much like you. Same hair length and color, same face shape and lips… but the eyes were all wrong. They didn't have the same comfort and soul yours did, regardless if the color was close.  

She had come on to him and Din had been so close to bending her over and fucking her on a crate in an alleyway at the transportation hub waiting for his ship to Nevarro. He had his hand on her back, pressing her into the crate, other hand going for his zipper. 

Din had abruptly left like a phantom before he could go any further, shame washing over him. The trip to the Guild felt like it was mocking him with how slow it was, almost as if it purposefully was making him have to think about how badly he almost fucked up and how badly he had fucked up leaving you behind without saying goodbye and only checking in here and there. And it was equally slow going home.

Getting off the transport ship when he got back to Jakku was a blur. A blur of racing off the ship before everyone else and grabbing his weapons from the cargo hold and racing home as the sun was setting.

You had been folding laundry when Din more or less kicked the door open. You promptly dropped the clothes, hand going to the blaster you keep at your hip at all times, but he was there before you could touch the weapon.

Din crushed you to him, all the pain being replaced with a yearning he only had for you.

He didn’t bother waiting. He took you right there, pressed against the wall. Then he had you bent over the couch, on top of the table, in the shower with the lights off, and in your shared bed. Din couldn’t get enough of you, your smell, your taste. He fucked and whispered his apologies into your body all night long, your gasps and moans your only response.

He was finally home in every sense of the word, but the guilt sat heavily on his shoulder.

“I almost made a horrible mistake,” he whispered into the night, flat on his back with you curled under his arm and splayed over his bare chest. Din blankly stared up at the ceiling, fruitless with the pitch darkness of the room. You drew circles into his skin with your fingers, quietly waiting for him to elaborate.

Din swallowed the lump in his throat and told you about his trip, his frustrations, how sorry he was for leaving the way he had. That he understood now you did what you had to do for both of your well beings. He told you about the quarry and the adrenaline rush and how it almost lead to his infidelity.

Your hand stopped its movement and Din could’ve cried. He wanted to snatch your hand as you drew it away and place it on his heart instead and keep it there forever. But he let you retract your hand and felt you sit up in the darkness.

The years Before and After let him know that you were looking at him, even if you couldn’t see him, and he with you. But he didn’t feel judgment nor pain, just empathy and melancholy. Din felt you straddle his waist and his hands immediately rested on the dips in your hips, stroking the naked skin there.

It was then, in the After of his mistake and your fight, you proposed a proposition. One he never thought you or he would ever consider, especially not with a shaky voice.

“I think we need to reconsider the long distant jobs. I know we don’t want to be apart, but with the money you brought in and how much more we could if we both did…”

Now it was Din’s turn to trace circles into your skin, listening with a patience he didn’t know he had.

“I’m sorry I hurt you by selling myself. I didn’t think… I didn’t…”

Din sat up and captured you in a kiss that he hoped conveyed just how much he loved and forgave you. When he pulled away, he gently placed his forehead against yours as your voice drops to a whisper.

“I think we should consider taking on longer jobs. Just until we can save up for maybe a small ship, then a bigger one. Just work our way up. What we have now isn’t working as fast as we want and I don’t want that to hurt us... our relationship... our future..."

You splayed your hand on his chest, basking in the warmth of his breath tickling your face.

“And…I think until we can have the same stability we had on the Crest… and as long as you’re comfortable with it... maybe it might be best for us to have an open relationship?”

You had waited for his response and Din let the idea buzz around in his head in silence. He didn’t really want anyone else, just you. But the months away and the loneliness of the job and space… He thought back to the woman who looked like you but wasn’t you and imagined himself fucking her with no guilt. It made him hard thinking about it and he felt you giggle and wiggle around in his lap. Din slapped your ass to keep you still.

Din didn’t want anyone but you, but if he could have guilt free relief when he needed it, he would be okay with it. But the idea of you with another man made his blood boil. And as if sensing that, you pulled him into a long kiss and grinned into his lap.

“It doesn’t have to be forever, just for now. Until we get a ship, until we can settle somewhere else without worrying about money... just for now, okay?”

“Okay, but I think we should establish some rules.”

“Agreed.”

The rules were simple: Don’t fuck friends and don’t fuck people the both of you know. Check in regularly regardless if either of you take on a partner, and whoever warms your bed comes second to your relationship. If anything changes, everything needs to be put on hold until a conversation could be held, and always have implants checked and yourselves tested for STDs if going in raw. Unplanned pregnancies or health issues will be dealt with accordingly, together, regardless of the outcome.

It was easy enough, but Din knew he only wanted you. That anyone he bedded would never replace you, and he knew you felt the same way. 

It wasn’t long before you both took on jobs that kept you away from each other for about a month, then two months. Din had been good, not really feeling the need to have a partner. 

But a new rule was added when he got home and found out in those two months you had bedded a partner and his jealousy got the better of him: don’t talk about your partners without being prompted. It wasn’t your fault, you were excited to show Din a new thing you had learned in the bedroom, but his jealousy spoiled the first evening home you two had together in months and he regretted it. The self-loathing alone kept him up all night, "sleeping" on the couch. 

The tension was still there when you both left for your next jobs, and he held onto the guilt when he found a partner himself after being gone again for two months. He made it up to you with the new oral technique his fling had taught him, you not asking where he learned it, but taking the knowledge better than he would've. Better than he had reacted previously.

That’s how you found yourself eight months after the original agreement, four months into your own job with two more months to go, squeezed into a tiny corner of an alleyway in broad daylight with an absolutely gorgeous Mirialan fucking into you like you’re the last lay he’ll have in his lifetime. With only his fly open and your pants pulled down enough for him to get the job done, but otherwise fully clothed.

The man was technically your employer, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Was it ethical? No, but you couldn't care less. He had hired you on as a bookkeeper for the historic collection he was transporting from one planet's museum to the next in the same galaxy. You had maybe three more planets to hop on your trip, and lately, all you could think of was Din. You were lonely, horny, and wanted your tin can man. But after the first month, and noticing the Mirialan show interest in you, you risked it all to hop into bed with him.

You had just talked to Din that morning, the both of you catching up on your regular weekly calls. A month ago Peli had called with the promise of a ship for cheap. It hadn’t been a Razor Crest like Din had hoped when he went to check it out without you, but it was something. And after a long talk, it was agreed upon that the N1 Starfire was a good enough ship for either of you to use when the other can take a transport ship. 

It would bring in more credits and opportunities, things you couldn’t afford to lose out on. Especially when you were so close to being able to get the fuck off of Jakku and sell your house for something hopefully far better on a planet that wasn't riddled with thieves and scum. And you wouldn’t have to worry about being apart any longer. The After you both craved and wanted. But before you could achieve that, the Mirialan's cock ramming into you reminded you that you’re still in the Before part of that plan.

A shift behind you had Fas’s large cock hit a more vulnerable spot within you and you couldn’t stop the gasp and moan from escaping your lips. Fas put his hand over your mouth, bending both of your knees farther as he fucked up into you relentlessly. You tried your hardest to keep standing, knees weak, but grateful that the Mirialan had one hand on your hip and the other on your left breast. You clung to his arms, the only anchors keeping you from completely collapsing. 

You wished he had bent you over something or let you lean against the wall, but there was something extremely erotic about being fucked standing doggy style and your guts rearranged in a position you couldn’t do with Din due to his height. Not this easily, at least. And especially not standing up. 

Fas groaned himself as your walls tightened around him and you were dunked into an intense orgasm that made your vision go white. As if he felt your body give, Fas wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace as he pistons into you for another minute then grunts, slapping his hips one last time against you as his hot seed filled you. The warm thickness from it triggered a weaker orgasm that you groaned out, grinding back against him, letting the haze of it drift through you. Mirialan's cum, for whatever reason, was far thicker and hotter than a human's cum. You learned that the first time you slept with him, and the shock of it made you go right into a second intense orgasm that had your limbs trembling for half an hour after. 

“Fuck.”

Fas hissed as he pulled out from you and immediately spread your ass cheeks to get a full view of your pussy. His thumb circled your asshole while he patiently waited for the thickness of his species' cum to reach your entrance and threaten to spill out of you. When he sees the hint of white at your entrance, he sighs and tucks himself back into his pants before he pulls your own back up, gently. He kisses your shoulder, patting you on the bottom, then cupping your clothed cunt as if willing his cum to stay inside of you.

“I won’t lie, I’ll miss your humor, skills, and this sweet pussy.” He rubbed the fabric over your mound and your body jolted from overstimulation, his grin only widening upon seeing and feeling your pants gain a new wet spot.

You roll your eyes and turn around to face him, leaning against the wall for support. When you had explained to Fas your arrangement with Din the first month you considered sleeping with him, Fas had been hesitant in a way that made you swoon at how much of a gentleman the man was to everyone. He reluctantly caved and that’s how you ended up fucking like rabbits whenever the chance arose and loneliness hit, whether it was in the showers of the ship or in an Employees Only portion of the museum, or in a brightly lit corner of an alleyway barely hidden by boxes and a sheet.

“I still can’t believe your Mandalorian is okay with this,” he mumbles to himself as he traces the shape of your cheek, unable to hide the yearning he had for you from his blue eyes. You give him a small smile.

“Unless you want your arm broken, I wouldn't tell him you’re one of my hookups.” Your smile widens at his chuckle, thankful you found someone so charming to shackle up with when the itch needed to be scratched. But it just made you long for Din even more. 

“You really miss him, don’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

When Fas took your hand, at first you assumed he wanted another round, but instead he slipped a bag of credits into your hand. It was the rest of what you were owed for the next two months. You stared at him in bafflement and it was his turn to grin at you.

“I’ve accidentally overheard a few of your calls with him," he shrugged. "And never not talk about him, regardless if we’re working or fucking.” His words make you blush. “I’ve got the next two planets, you should be with your Mando.”

“Are you sure?” the shock tightened your chest, filling it with concern and excitable yearning. You reached to give the bag back, but Fas just pushed it back towards you.

“I can tell you miss him, and you’ve been a great asset on the team the last four months, but I've got this. I’m twice divorced and I’d give anything to have someone like you in my life. But I know your heart belongs to this mysterious warrior and I can’t find it in me to keep you apart.” He shrugs, sheepishly. “And I'll admit if you stick out your employment I may find it harder and harder to let you go. So it’s best for you to find your way back to your Mando and let a man wish he had found you first before the warrior had.”

You couldn’t help dragging him into a hug, pouring your gratitude into your squeeze. Before he or you could change your mind, you let him go and ran back to the ship you had called home the last few months to collect your things. And before you could blink, you were on the next flight back to Jakku, giddy knowing you’d be surprising your Mandalorian with your presence for the first time in three months.

And that’s how you found yourself walking in on Din balls deep in an absolutely stunning Pantoran. Her indigo skin shone in the dim lighting, head yanked back as Din gripped her lavender hair tightly in his fist. She was still mostly clothed, pants shoved down enough to get the job done, shirt pushed up and bra band down to expose perk breasts that bounced with each hard thrust Din gave her. 

He took her from behind like a wild animal, pressing her into the wall in front of them, the rhythmic wet slaps of their bodies connecting honestly impressive. Din hadn’t noticed you come in, his head thrown back, completely lost in the pleasure the Pantoran’s pussy gave him. The high-pitched breathy noises caught in her throat made you wet and you couldn't help clench your thighs together at the sight and sounds.

Din tilted his head a fraction, barely noticeable to anyone else, and froze mid-thrust when the darkness of his visor lands on you. His head fully snaps in your direction and you could’ve laughed at the image before you: a moment of passion frozen in time like a high-quality porno.

The Pantoran caught her breath and did her best to look in your direction with how tightly Din still held her hair, and you could feel both of their nerves radiating off of them from your presence. It wasn’t like you caught him cheating, this was part of the arrangement, but it also had been a rule to not meet those you slept with while away. But for whatever reason, that broken rule and the scene before you didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. You could almost sense Din torn on continuing or pulling out of her and ending his affair right then and there, so you made the choice for them.

You closed the door behind you to keep out peeping eyes, despite the fact that you and Din lived on the outskirts of whatever civilization Jakku claimed to have. You let your eyes drag over them hungrily, licking your lips.

“Well, Din? Don’t stop on my account, you promised this pretty thing a good time and I hope you intend to keep that.”

Without breaking eye contact with his visor, you slipped off each clothing item you had as you sultrily sauntered over to the couch, until you were just in your panties. Din’s helmet followed your movements and only stopped when you plopped down on the couch. You widened your legs and placed one foot on the chest you use as a makeshift coffee table to reveal the wet patch forming in your underwear.

“And when you’re done, I want you to fuck me. Understood?”

Din let out a guttural moan, hips involuntarily jerking, causing the Pantoran to moan as well. As if he had never stopped, Din immediately went back to pistoning his hips into her, harder than he had before, causing her to let out a shriek.

You spread your other leg still rooted to the floor, wetting your fingers and dragging them down your body until they land on your clit. Din might be railing this woman three ways to next week, but his helmet was glued to you. He groaned at the sight and reached around to roughly grasp the woman’s breasts, each movement precise and graceful as if he was putting on a show just for you. And maybe he was? The idea of it was hot as is, let alone seeing it unfold.

Din pulled the woman away from the wall and, while still inside of her, guided her to put her hands on the crate you'd been using as an accent table. Din knocked the lamp to the ground, not bothered when it smashed in pieces as it hit the ground. His choice had given you a better view of the show and the woman could now see your own actions. When her honey-glazed eyes rested on you as you fingered your sex, they rolled back in her head as she let out a whine. 

Din’s hips stuttered and he swore, grasping her hips and spreading his legs to slap into her at a different angle.

“Her pussy clenched watching you play with yourself, cyare.” 

“Good. Finish her Din, I’m waiting.”

Din shoved the girl’s feet together and widened his own stance, ramming into her even harder and faster than he had before. Her voice was caught in her throat, tears streaming down her cheeks and she finally came, hard and spazzing on Din’s cock. Her knees gave out and Din gently laid her on the floor, never taking his gaze off of you. When she was fully on the ground and comfortable, Din pointed a gloved finger at you.

“Get on your hands and fucking knees,” he growled in a tone you hadn’t heard before. A voice that made you drip and immediately flip over with your knees on the chest and hands on the couch, looking at him over your shoulder in a sultry manner.

He was behind you before you could blink and shoved his cock into you with urgency, still glistening and pearly white from the Pantoran’s hot pussy. The dirtiness of that fact alone made you groan and clench around him, sweat beading at your brow.

Din immediately jackhammered into you, hands cupping your tits, body curling around yours. He fucked you like a loth cat in heat, shoving himself into you as if he couldn’t be any closer. His dick glided against your walls, the speed causing the heaviness of his balls to slap against your clit with little to no mercy with how he’s putting his full weight into each thrust. The wetness from your own arousal and the Pantoran’s caused a lewd wet slapping sound as his balls found a rhythm against your pussy and the both of your and the Pantoran's slick drenched whatever exposed skin Din had displayed. 

Din muttered filthy words into your ear loud enough for his fling to hear, but only muttered words of love and affection and how happy he was to have you home quietly enough for only you to hear. It was the missing ingredient needed for you to groan and cum, your whole body growing tight then spasming with Din’s continued relentless pace.

The Mandalorian, without stopping, placed one boot on the chest next to your hands and, like the Pantoran, gripped your hair and pulled it tightly as he fucked into you, finding his own high. 

You glanced over your shoulder to find the Pantoran was watching intently, fingering herself, and just like it had been enough for her to orgasm from when you touched yourself, it was all you needed to have one more surprise orgasm that milked one out of Din.

He slammed his hips into yours, grinding into your pelvis, and filled you with spurt after spurt of hot cum with nothing but a satisfied grunt and tight limbs. When he was done, Din sighed and held you to him, flipping you over to sit on his lap on the chest, his cock still nestled in you.

“God, I missed you.”

Din ran his hands over your body, your face, and nuzzled your cheek with his helmet. As much you wanted to melt into his embrace and never let go, you couldn't conveniently forget about the woman he had brought home that was still propped up against your wall.

Din whined as you slipped off of his softening cock and slid on your panties before his spend could drip down your thighs. You pulled on your shirt and reluctantly tugged on your pants as well before wandering into the fresher, wetting a clean washcloth, and coming to the Pantoran’s side. You gently opened her legs and washed away the evidence of her and Din’s affair, then helped her back onto her wobbly feet.

Pulling her pants up the rest of the way and buttoning them for her, you then took her hand and lead her to the front door. She glanced back at Din and awkwardly waved, but he just nodded at her in stoic acknowledgment that made you chuckle. As if he hadn’t just given the poor thing arguably the best lay of her life.

The walk down the path from your home to the road was slow, but not awkward. The Pantoran rang her fingers together, glancing at you shyly as you walked her out.

“Thank you for keeping him company.”

The Pantoran gave you a shy smile, fiddling with her hair. Now that you have better light and aren't distracted by their coupling, you realized the Pantoran was around the same height as you with a similar build and hair length. It was almost like looking at yourself if you hadn’t been born human.

“He and I ran into each other when we both arrived to Jakku. I’m only in town visiting my brother for a few days, and we ran into each other when I was heading home from the cantina. He told me about your arrangement and at first I wasn’t sure if he was just saying that to get into my pants guilt free for the both of us, but figured if Mandalorians are an honorable people, he had to be telling the truth.”

“He was,” you confirmed with a soft smile, grateful that you and Din had both found at least one good person to sleep with that were kind and genuine. It made your heart flutter. “One of our rules was to not meet or talk about our flings, so I'm sorry if I almost ruined that for you. And I’m sorry I didn’t ask for consent before jumping in, I should have. I got caught up in the heat of the moment.” 

You bit your lip when you realized how badly that could have turned out if the Pantoran hadn’t been okay with your choice to stay and watch let alone participate. She stopped in her tracks as you arrived at your property's gate and spun around, eyes wide. 

“Are you kidding me? That was really fucking hot! But I appreciate that sentiment, you’re a good woman. I get why he loves you so much.”

You could feel your face burn, caught off guard with the confession.

“What do you mean?”

The Pantoran sighed wistfully, leaning against the fence and staring off into space. “He talked about you briefly when we first ran into each other at the transport hub, then outside of the cantina, and even before he absolutely fucked my brains out. He wouldn’t stop talking about you. Wouldn't shut up about how much he missed you and even apologized that this couldn’t be anything reoccurring or serious. He just talked about you like he couldn’t stop himself from letting the world know you existed. It’s how I knew he wasn’t sleeping with me to cheat or be disloyal, a man with that much yearning doesn’t talk about his partner like that and then goes behind their backs and cheats on them." She shrugs. “At least I hope not.” She sighs wistfully again. “But you’re so lucky to have a man like that. Does he have a brother?” she joked. 

You laughed, unable to stop the grin from spreading across your face and you leaned against the fence next to her. “Not that I’m aware of, but thank you for telling me that. It’s been really hard being away from him for so long, and knowing he feels that way makes me feel… strangely better about our situation? I guess I was worried that one of us may drift apart or find someone else with how unideal this arrangement has been work-wise.”

The Pantoran put her hand on your shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze. “Look, I may be just a random hook-up, but even I can tell this only brought you guys closer together. And I’m really happy for the both of you.” She opened the gate and let herself out, closing it behind her. She turned to face you with a grin that matches your own. “Thank you for being a good host, and I am sorry again you walked in on us either way. I’m glad it ended the way it did, it gives me something to look forward to one day knowing that someone out there who can give me the same love and sex you two have is out there waiting for me.”

You shrug and lean closer, your grin turning sultry. “I’m not sure how long we’ll be on Jakku for, but next time you’re in town and we're still around, feel free to give us a knock.” You winked and her indigo skin flushed purple, honey eyes drowned out by the blacks of her blown-out pupils. She gives you a shy smile regardless. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She blew you a kiss and turned on her heels to leave. You watched her walk down the street until you couldn’t see her anymore, the sun setting and casting long shadows. You took a deep breath in, savoring the love blooming in your chest with this newfound knowledge, then turned to return to the love of your life waiting for you on the other side.

You barely had the front door shut and locked before Din was on you, smothering you in his now armorless embrace. He had darkened the room while you were gone and his lips kissed any part of you he could reach while crushing you to his body with the desperation of a man trapped in a desert and had just found an oasis.

You didn’t complain when he stripped the both of you down, swatting your hands away from taking your own clothes off. You didn’t complain when he lead you to your room and made love to you for hours into the night, hours After the Pantoran had left.

Where the raw desperation that had been there earlier was now replaced with deep but slow thrusts and grinding that left you panting and sweating and moaning into his mouth. Din rested his weight on top of you, not leaving an inch of you untouched. His mouth consistently stayed hovering over your mouth and sucked hickies into your skin as if he was afraid you’d disappear again.

In the After, you basked in each other’s presence. Chest to chest, legs entangled, lips grazing, and noses lightly bumping lazily into each other.

“God I missed you so much,” he mumbled into your lips. “I’m sorry you had to come home to that, if I had known-“

You kissed him and he sighed, leaning into the action. You pulled away and pecked his nose. “Don’t, I wanted to surprise you. Fas realized how much I missed you and gave me the rest of my pay. Told me to go home.”

Din paused at this and abruptly sat up. Even in the darkness, you could tell he was looking at you.

“Are you serious?” his shocked excitement made you grin. “Runi, that’s fantastic! I’m so proud of you, that was really generous of him.” Din’s hand found your stomach and gave it a gentle rub, thick fingers grazing the underside of your breasts. 

Despite the happiness in his tone, you could sense hesitation in the slight tremble of his fingers. You placed your hands on top of his, your own digits rubbing into his skin.

“Din, what’s wrong?”

You allowed the silence to linger, content with the feeling of his skin on yours. Finally, he laid back down and draped his arm over your waist, nuzzling his face back into the crook of your neck.

“The bounty ended up being worth way more than was promised alive. The man who put the bounty on the quarry hadn’t expected him in any way other than dead.”

You furrowed your brows, not sure where this was going. “Din, isn’t that a good thing?”

Din took a deep breath and exhaled your name. “It means not only can we sell the house, but we can go elsewhere and not worry about money. At least not for a little while.”

You opened your mouth, a million questions running through your mind. But Din propped himself up on his other arm and cradled your face, his touch distracting you.

“Cyar’ika, you deserve better than Jakku. If you’re okay with it, I was thinking we could settle on Nevarro. Karga and Cara have turned it into a paradise since we last visited, wee wouldn’t have to worry about either of us needing to sleep with a blaster under our pillows or wonder if someone will steal our things while we're away on a job.” 

Din swallowed, hands trembling. “We’d have the protection of the Guild right in town and be able to afford a nice place. I could work nearby with Karga which doesn’t require me to be away for more than a few hours most at a time, maybe a week if something is needed off planet. A house on Nevarro means we might not be able to get a ship just yet, but I figured it was a start. More credits, less time away from each other, and we'd be surrounded by people who we can trust. People we call friends. What do you think?”

Your shocked silence filled the room but it wasn’t long before you flew into Din’s arms like he had before and he held you close, nose buried in your neck. 

“When can we move?”

Din chuckled, rubbing your back. “In a month? Is that okay? We still need to find a place and transfer everything over. One of us will need to fly the N1, but I’m sure Cara or Karga can give the other a lift to Nevarro.”

“What, you have a problem with public transport, Mr. Djarin??” He laughed and pinched your hip. 

“No, but why make one of us wait to be together any longer than we have to?”

You rested your chin on his shoulder, his body a furnace, but a welcome heat despite the scorching warmth the planet radiated being suffocating as is.

“And our arrangement?” you whispered, unsure of where that would stand. You felt Din sigh.

“Honestly, as much as it had its moments of being fun, I just want you. You’re the person I want to take home, the person I want to wake up to, the person whose body I want to get lost in. I know Nevarro may not offer long-term jobs to keep you as close as I’d like, and until we get a proper ship, I’m aware you may still need to travel to bring in credits. So I’m okay if you need to scratch any itch you get while you’re gone, but once we settle in on Nevarro, I was hoping we could go back to it just being us. Like before. But I understand if it’s not what you want.”

“Din, like you said, as much as this has been fun, you’re all I want. I appreciate you wanting me to be fulfilled in every way possible if you can't do it yourself, so I’ll need to think about it. But I’m absolutely okay with things going back to just us when we're ready.”

You pulled away reluctantly, his grip tight around you but gave you enough room to cup his face in your hands.

“I love you, Din Djarin. And no matter what the universe throws at us, I’ll always find my way home to you. I hope you know that.” The deep kiss he pulled you into told you he felt the same, and the hardness of his cock pocking your thigh solidified that fact.

Before there was Grogu, there was you. And After Grogu, here is where you’ll be. 

After you sell the house on Jakku and make the move, things do fall into place just like the jobs you once had in the years you’ve known the Mandalorian. Din was given a well-paying job along Karga’s side that didn’t require him to hunt down bounties across the galaxy. And not once has he had to step on a public transport since.

After a few more months of accepting jobs that took you away from home for a few weeks at a time, you settled in yourself with a job at the local school as a language teacher. The house you bought with Din was bigger than anything you thought you’d ever be able to own, yet despite its size, it was still humble and homey. A place one could maybe grow a family one day.

When Din got the emergency message from Boba needing his help on Tattooine, you didn’t think twice and encouraged him to go. After all, you were here in the Before, and you’ll be here in the After, no matter what the universe throws at you. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I had come up with this idea a while back ago that was partially inspired by @thestrangestinthisstrangeland 's really hot fic "Can You Kiss Me More" and the destain I have for the lack of F/F/M fics in the Mando fandom. Or healthy portrayals of open relationships. Had to fix that fact.

I also came up with this fic to explore open relationships more. I consider myself to be queer leaning on the ace side, like not sex repulsed or anything, but the idea of having one partner is more than enough and the idea of dating overwhelms me. So I've been fascinated with how people can have open relationships or be in poly relationships with ease. It's really admirable.

The Mando fandom made me realize I may be a little bit of the jealous type and the idea of my partner sleeping with other people while I'm gone bothers me a little. But I think being able to write how Din and the reader both feel for each other is what helped me understand that my insecurity comes from not wanting to be cast aside for someone better. I don't think people realize how much trust goes into making open relationships and poly relationships work, and writing this fic made me appreciate that fact even more.

If you're polyamorous or in an open relationship and find this to not portray either or appropriately, please do let me know and I'll do my best to be as inclusive and correct as possible! All are welcome here and I want everyone to be able to feel at home in the reader inserts I've made available to them!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

On a Cold, Cold Night

Pre-Season 1 Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: T

Warnings: brief severe broken bone and wound description, otherwise mostly fluff

Word Count: 4,735

Summary: On a planet with the looming threat of a blizzard rolling in, an abandoned cabin and quarry on the verge of death has Din making choices he thought he'd never have to make in his profession.

On a cold, cold night, the Mandalorian waded in thick snow, guided on his journey with just the sensors in his helmet and the full moon lingering above him in the night sky. The wind whipped at his armor, tugging at his cowl, and screamed at him to turn back. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

If it hadn’t been for the odd shape highlighted in the moonlight, Din would never have been able to spot the cabin amongst the backdrop of trees and snow, even with the sensors in his helmet.

He had been relying on tips and hushed whispers to find his latest bounty, and if it hadn’t been for the continuous cold, Din may have even enjoyed this hunt. But snow whipped at his beskar as he trudged through thigh-high snow, its icy hands no match for the brute strength harbored underneath all the metal and padding.

Din stopped and scanned his surroundings, but no heat signature could be picked up from the white hills and trees that tower over him. A perfect place to hide out and snipe if one had the skill to, but as far as he could tell, he was alone. And he wasn’t sure what to make of that just yet.

He continued forward, the snow straining his already tired muscles. As the cabin grew nearer, the tracking fob on his belt began to blink faster and faster, its annoying beeping a comforting sound of relief, knowing that this job will soon be over.

But as he grew closer, he couldn’t help but feel as though something was… off. The cabin itself was old and decaying, a structure that has undoubtedly housed generations far before Din was ever born. No light peeked through broken windows and no sound nor movement could be detected with the naked eye.

Din paused again and amped up the sensitivity of his heat sensor mode and eyed the cabin. It was faint, and he nearly missed it, but he found a trace of a heat signature unmoving within the structure’s walls. He waited, so still, he could’ve been mistaken for a tree. But the body his helmet picked up didn’t move for the five minutes he observed.

Something was definitely wrong.

This bounty was supposed to be a considerable threat, from what Din recalled of his puck and the information Karga gave him. Another runaway wanted by their father, a deadly stray who had taken out plenty of bounty hunters before Karga practically begged Din to take the job. It was a pity the father wanted his kid alive, the job would’ve been so much easier if he could’ve dragged a dead body back between the snow and cold.

The criminal in question hadn’t come with a photo, nor gender, just their age and some basic information that was enough for Din to go off of. They had planet hopped for the past year before disappearing, and his search led him to the very cabin he now stood before.

Din hesitated, but the blinking light and sound of the fob were adamant that his quarry was indeed inside. He let out a sigh, trying to peer in through the darkness of the cabin before caving and trying the door.

To his surprise, it opened rather easily. He waited for the inevitable, the sound of a blaster going off, the blinding flash, the pressure as the plasma bounced off his armor and destroying whatever is unfortunately in its path. Instead, he was met with a deafening silence and contrasted darkness caused by the moonlight pouring through the window.

Din took a step and the wooden floors creaked and gave a little underneath his weight. He waited, but still was only met with silence and darkness. He closed the door behind him and blended into the shadows, eyes flicking over whatever was exposed by the light of the moon.

He could faintly make out furniture within the one-room home. A table with two chairs appeared to be pushed up against one wall next to a window where the moon can be seen through the ice-tinted glass. The circular rug laid at his feet took up most of the living space, disheveled and faded with time and love.

The rest was too dark to see, and he immediately tapped his helmet for his night vision feature. The cabin really was modest, but his eyes were immediately drawn to a figure lying in the cabin’s only double bed.

He could see the scratch marks his quarry had made pushing the bed closer to what Din can now see is a fireplace. Darkened wood and soot have stained the firebox, but the last fire it held had snuffed out a long time ago.

Despite being inside and no longer assaulted by the cold, brutal winds; Din could still feel just how chilled the cabin was regardless. The air lightly whistled through the cracks and broken pieces of the windows that should have been boarded up long before the storm ever touched down.

For once, Din felt a tad out of his element. He was used to violence, fighting, a struggle, begging, or bribery. Not silence, not darkness, and not a barely warm but still alive body laying on a bed as if they were a gift from the maker Himself for Din to easily snag and be on his way. Din considered calling out to his target, to ensure it was even them, but his voice got stuck in his throat. And the now fully lit up fob on his belt told him his hunch was correct, regardless of the silence and lack of facial features to identify the quarry.

After hesitating, Din finally found the nerve to quietly make his way over to the body on the bed.

His target was hidden underneath layers of musky, old, moth-eaten blankets. The top of their head poked out from underneath, but everything else was tucked away from sight. With more caution than he was used to, Din slowly peeled the blankets back and gently nudged the body from facing opposite him to laying on their back.

Din flinched. He knew his quarry’s age, but he was still surprised to find that the child he was after was a grown woman a lot older than he was made to believe, and also at how fragile she looked. She barely had the energy to shiver from the lack of warmth, limbs stiff as if in rigor mortis.

The girl was ashen, lips a grayish-blue, and her clothes were stiff as if glued to her from the cold. Din sucked in air, looking her over, wondering if she was even worth the credits to bring back. It had taken him, a healthy human male, hours to trek through the snow to find her from the nearest village. In this state, would she even make the trip alive?

Would she even survive overall?

Fists clenching and unclenching as he overlooked the girl, he monitored how shallow her breathing was. Din sighed and knew he was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Out of caution, he took a photo of the girl just in case his next actions resulted in failure.

He tucked the quarry back into her blankets and sifted through the room until he found tools, rusted, but still in rather good shape. The sparseness of the cabin was infuriating, and he ended up needing to break the table down to use the flat parts to board up the windows.

He swore the whole time he was outside, fighting with the brutal winds and the cold to nail each piece of wood until he couldn’t see the glass anymore. It meant the cabin was even darker when he returned, but he doubted his sleeping companion cared all that much at the moment.

Din grabbed the remaining pieces of the table and snapped them into smaller fragments, each leg was broken in threes and placed them in the fireplace. Adding some dried unused paper he found in a chest near the bed, he used his flame thrower to ignite the kindling and the fire in the hearth roared to life, strong and resilliant. Din allowed himself to breathe and enjoy the warmth the fire brought as he kneeled in front of it.

The cabin, although still cold, was much more comfortable than when he first arrived. Din had turned his fob off and placed it in his pack and unhooked his cape to dry off on a hat rack nailed into the wall.

Din glanced over at the girl, but not much has changed. Once he felt warm enough himself, he stood and checked on the girl. Her breathing was less shallow and the sensors in his helmet told him she was starting to grow warmer, but it may be a day or two before he can get her to a healthy enough state to drag her back to the Crest where he can treat her properly before throwing her into carbonite.

With nothing to do other than wait, Din dragged a chair close to the quarry’s bed and sat, arms crossed, gazing into the fire.

The cold jolted him out of a sleep he didn’t remember falling into, his body slightly trembling. Din wasn’t sure how long he had been out for, but it must have been for a few hours. His body trembled and Din squinted into the cabin, confused, until he realized the fire had started to die out.

Din swore under his breath and took the poker next to the fireplace and stabbed at the kindling. The fire breathed to life before it weakened, threatening to snuff out again. Din frantically tore through the cabin and picked up any books and loose paper he could use as kindling.

The fire accepted Din’s offerings happily, jumping back to life as it washed the room in hues of oranges. Din sighed, shoulders tense, eyeing the fire as if he didn’t trust the thing to keep going. Outside, the wind rattled his makeshift blinds, and the cabin groaned under the pressure of a storm he hadn't known was coming when he had come to fetch the quarry.

With the panic of the fire now gone, a new panic crept up on Din. He quickly stands and tugs the blanket back to look over his girl and sucked air through his teeth, seeing just how worse off she looked.

Just like the fire, sometime in the hours of his sleep, she had changed positions, her front facing the fire as if trying to get warm. But unlike how he found her before, the quarry’s glazed eyes were open and gazing at him from beneath hooded lids, barely lucid.

The quarry licked her chapped lips in vain, the small smile pulled at the cracks in her lips, causing the crevices to start to bleed. But the cold made the blood move more like tar than life’s vital liquid, and Din couldn’t help but flinch at the sight.

“I should’ve known death would come for me in the form of a Mandalorian.”

She weakly lifted a shaky arm as if to reach out to him, but the limb immediately fell limp and her eyes rolled back into her skull. Din swore and ripped off his gloves, forcing her to look at him but her eyes remained shut.

“Hey, girl, I need you to stay awake. Can you hear me?”

He swore when he realized how icy her skin felt under his fingers. She felt like a marble statue, and for the first time since he took this bounty, Din began to seriously panic.

Din pushed down the blankets once more to really take the girl in. It couldn’t be just the cold making her this weak this fast. Din honestly was angry at himself for not realizing that the arm she hadn’t used, the one that she had cradled close to her body since he first found her, was broken. Even through the makeshift bandage job, Din could tell the way she tried to set it hadn’t been good enough and most likely had been done in haste between the storm approaching and perhaps a hunt gone wrong.

Din emptied out his own pack, found his med kit, and immediately arranged a bacta needle and the tools he needed to properly set the bone. He gently peeled the fabric from her arm and hissed at the wound that awaited him.

The skin was rotting around the opened juncture of the wound, and he could see a small flash of white where her bone was. Luckily for her, it was a clean break, but unluckily for her, she may lose the arm if his medical skills and the bacta don’t cut it.

Din rummaged through the small kitchen’s cabinets, pleased to find some canned foods and dried meats that could hold them over for at least a week, and took out a big pot and plopped it in the sink. He used his flamethrower on the spout and prayed to whatever god was out there that it would warm the pipes enough to get some water for him to clean the wound before giving the girl proper medical care. He sighed with his whole body when the pipe managed to spit out enough water for him to put in the pot and for him to clean a piece of cloth and his hands before freezing over again.

Bringing the pot over, he waited until the water was still warm enough to be pleasing, but not enough to scald. Din held his breath and gently apologized as he quickly re-set her arm properly, and she flinched hard enough for Din to need to hold her down so as to not re-injure herself.

After setting the arm in a make-shift splint made up of remaining wood and cloth from his cowl, he took the other now clean cloth and dabbed it into the water and gently patted it around the wound. The woman jolted and let out a long, hollow moan that made Din’s skin erupt in goosebumps that weren’t from the cold.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts, but it’ll be over soon. I promise.”

He’s not entirely sure why he’s trying to soothe her, Din doubts she could even hear him, but it made him feel less…useless as he cleaned the wound the best he could and redressed it with bandages from his med kit. He considered the catalyzer, but between the cold and any infection, he feared that would be the last shock her body needed to completely give out.

Din pulled away and watched her shiver, tears streaking down her face. He tucked the blankets back around her with care, bare fingers brushing hair out of her face with a gentleness Din didn’t even know he was capable of having. The girl was beautiful in her own right, and perhaps in other life, he would have pursued her for different reasons. 

Between keeping the fire going, ignoring the wind's howls, and the adrenaline still buzzing in his ears; Din couldn’t get back to sleep even if he wanted to. He sighed and got up, stretching, feeling his back pop. He put his items away and began to clean up the mess he made in a panic. Din paused when he came to the spilled contents of what appeared to be his quarry’s bag. He wasn’t sure how he missed it in his haste to keep the cabin shut tight, warm, and clean, but it now splayed itself in front of him as if beckoning for him to open it.

Aside from enough credits to last another six months, a toiletry bag, a med kit with expired medicines, an old-fashioned camera, and a handful of clothes; Din couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. But while shoving the items that spilled out back into the bag, he felt something bulky partly sticking out from inside of the bag’s walls.

Din brushed his fingers along the outline until he found the opening of a secret pouch. He dipped his fingers into the secret compartment and pulled out a small but thick book. The traditional material nearly threw Din off in and of itself, but when he flipped it open, he was even more shocked to find it wasn’t a book: it was a combination photo album and journal.

He wasn’t sure what possessed him to read the entries or even look at the photos, but Din felt a pull that he couldn’t quite shake, even if he felt slightly wrong for peeping into someone’s clearly private catalog. Why would a wanted criminal take the time and energy to capture photos, print them, glue them into a book, and write within its columns? Why couldn’t a data pad suffice? He knew the risk a digital journal could have, but it still felt like so much effort to make a physical book that he knew it wasn't about this being made out of safety, but rather love and passion.

The book’s binding and paper told Din it was handmade, and very well loved. He flipped through random pages, eyes moving over pictures of painted skies and clear oceans and lush forests. Some photos were selfies of the quarry, handheld, others looked like the photo had been perched on a rock or taken by a local of the area. There were a few photos here and there of what looked to be local lovers you might've picked up on your travels, and he tried not to stare too long at any selfies of you kissing a stranger or a point of view shot of them holding your hand from behind. He didn't know why jealousy briefly flashed in his heart, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. 

Din settled back into his chair, unable to look away. The quarry wrote of each of the places she visited with such love and devotion, and each passage was written in letter format, always starting with “Dear Dad,” and ending with her name and hearts drawn around her signature.

Brow furrowed, Din flipped the book back to the first page and really took a look at the photos within the first few pages. The photos were older, more bent and wrinkled, and featured a much younger version of the woman fighting death in the bed mere feet away. Sometimes she was alone, other times she posed with a woman much older than her, other times it was with an older man, a few times all three of them.

The quarry didn’t exactly look like the older couple, but there was love there. The way the man looked at the woman with such deep affection it made Din’s heart ache, remembering the way his own father looked at his mother before the war. The woman was beautiful, with laugh lines and wild hair tied up with a rag. Who were these people?

Din stared at the photo of the man in the photo, finger absently running over the image. The man in the photo and the man who hired him to bring his daughter home were two very different men. In coloring, in age, in kindness.

The man who hired him didn’t have an ounce of the love and gentleness in his face and words that Din could feel that the man in the photo had for his partner and daughter, regardless if the quarry was his by blood or not. Din couldn’t deny the love only a father could give to his child. The love didn't speak, but rather screamed at him from every photo as he turned each page and saw the quarry’s backstory come to life.

A pained groan had Din snapping the book shut with the same guilt and sheepishness of a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar would have. He blinked over at his quarry and stood abruptly, dropping her journal. When had she started to shake so violently?

Din was at her side in a split second and found himself holding her good hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. Her eyes were half open and glazed, blankly searching the ceiling as if trying to find an answer to unspoken questions within the wooden beams.

Her hands were icy to the touch, brow damp with sweat, clothes and hair clinging to her head and figure and shaking uncontrollably. Din swore and didn’t think twice to unclasp his armor and slipped off his boots. He slid into the bed and immediately held her to him, his larger frame enfulfing her in his embrace.

The quarry unconsciously clung to him, shaking so violently it made Din’s teeth clink together in his own mouth. But he held strong, rubbing soothing circles into her back and pulling the pile of blankets tighter around them, ensuring her back was to the fire.

After what felt like hours, the quarry slowly stopped shaking and settled into his arms. Din glanced down at her to find her face was relaxed, although flushed, and still damp with sweat. Her breathing mellowed and, for the first time since he found her, she looked to be at ease.

Din gave her a few hours, dozing with her in his arms, and rubbed her back absent mindedly with one hand. When he finally found the will to move, he pulled away from her and checked on her wounds, pleased to find the break and gash were healing nicely thanks to modern medicine.

For the next three days, when Din wasn’t holding her to him in bed and either reciting stories from his childhood or humming to her, he changed her bandages and washed the sweat from her face. When she was lucid enough, he fed her whatever he could find in the cabin, and when she had the energy, he helped her relieve herself in the cabin’s tiny bathroom before tucking her back into bed where she’d promptly pass out.

In those three days, when Din wasn’t taking care of her, he found himself drawn back to her photo album journal, flipping from one page to the next until he felt like he had memorized every detail there was to absorb.

And in those three days, Din knew he had to make a hard decision. One that would either lead a girl back to a jailer (or worse), or one where he would have to risk finding his way back to the guild with barely enough fuel and food but not enough credits to feed himself or refuel when he gets there. He loathed to think he’d have to borrow money from the covert’s savings, or deal with Karga’s smug smile knowing he had a Mandalorian in his debt.

On the fourth day, the storm let up and Din could see the sun shining through the cracks of the boarded-up windows. He glanced at the quarry and knew she was well enough by now. He could drag her through the remaining snow back to the Crest without the worry of infection or frostbite, and he could be in hyperspace by noon the next day.

All he had to do was move.

You weren’t sure how long you had been out for, but your body felt like it had been hit by a heard of banthas. Your muscles strained with the slightest movement and you couldn’t stop the pained moan from leaving your lips even if you wanted to.

When you found the energy to open your eyes, you had to squint to make out the cabin thanks to the sun shining through the cracks of the cabin. When had you boarded up the windows? It had been on your list of things to do before the storm hit, yet you had no memory of getting the chore done.

With another groan you slowly sat up, your body feeling tense yet weak at the same time. A fire burned as weakly as you felt in the fireplace, keeping the extreme cold out while still keeping the cabin on the chilly side, and you had to wonder yet again when you had found the time to make the fire in the first place.

Memories of days before came crashing down on you, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut at the intense headache that threatened to split your brain apart so suddenly.

You remembered going out to gather wood. A deer had startled you and you had tripped on a branch and tumbled down a steep hill, breaking your arm. Your arm!

You pulled your sleeve up to find the arm had been lovingly bandaged at some point, the bone back in its rightful place. Outside of a dull ache, you weren’t in any pain. You poked at the bandage and hissed, but your actions didn’t cause blood to leak to the surface and stain the bandaging. You didn’t remember dressing this, either.

You remember dragging yourself back to the cabin, hours later after getting yourself lost between the cold, the adrenaline rush, and the pain from the break. You remember desperately trying to get warm after being out in the snow for hours, finding your way back into bed after collecting every blanket the cabin had…

A Mandalorian.

You remembered the ghostly image of a Mandalorian standing above you, and your brain convinced you that it was the personification of Death coming to guide you home after so long. You remember gentle hands and kind whispers, vaguely, like a faded childhood memory. There, but not quite.

You glanced around the cabin to find that you were alone. You swung your feet over the edge of the bed and listened, waiting. But no one was inside the cabin with you, or outside, perhaps no one for miles as you had originally planned. Had the Mandalorian been a fever dream? You glanced back down at your makeshift cast and knew that you couldn’t have hallucinated him, there’s enough evidence to tell you that much for certain.

A beep caught your attention and on the nearby dresser was a fob and a small holo-pad you had never seen before. You weakly rose to your feet and stumbled over to the dresser, leaned your good arm against it, and squinted down at the devices.

The tracking fob was either dead or just not picking up on your DNA, and tapping it made the screen light up but your bounty headshot didn’t come up. You glanced down at the round holo-pad communicator, the piece of technology small enough to fit in your hand and had clearly seen better days.

The holo-pad blinked with a message from a com link you didn’t recognize. Your fingers lingered over the button to receive the message, shaking with hesitance. Before you could lose your nerve, you tapped the button and pulled your arm back as if it were being pursued by a wild animal.

You gasped and sucked in air, eyes zoning in on the image in the hologram. Anxious eyes scan the document, wondering if your tired eyes misread what was in front of you, if maybe you’re hallucinating the whole thing.

But there in front of you was a picture of yourself, much younger, grinning back at you. It had been a time when things were simpler and when your adopted parents were still alive and well. Before…before…

Your name was printed in bold letters, and right under it: DECEASED; followed by a half-assed obituary you knew had been from your owner. It lacked significant details about your life but put on enough of a show for those reading it who didn’t know you or your situation to believe the man who wrote it truly cared.

It was strange, seeing your own eulogy, gazing into eyes that were once yours so long ago. You thought of the ghost of the Mandalorian that had been there clearly to collect your bounty but had a change of heart. Did he figure out who his employer was? Did your well-being make him change his mind?

You had a million questions racing through your head as fast as your heartbeat within your chest. But amidst those buzzing questions, one statement made its presence known that made your knees weak and shoulders sag with relief, eyes tearing up:

You’re finally free.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

This was the first fanfic I've written in probably 10 years. Honestly, the Mando fandom alone has some of the most beautiful writers I've ever come across and it genuinely inspired me to come out of retirement. I had a falling out with a friend in a fandom I was once in over a decade ago and it was too painful to write. But now that I've healed and moved on and found love and inspiration in the Mando fandom and reignited my love for Star Wars in general, I'm ready to jump back into it.

I have a few spicy ideas and a few spicy/sweet chapter story ideas as well. I'm hoping once things even out at work I can create a writing schedule for future works whether it's a one-shot or chapter story to have something to look forward to outside of my career goals and advancements. It really means a lot you read this and I hope to see you again on my journey back into writing! ❤️ I may create a tumblr for my fics, still deciding, I don't quite understand Tumblr cause I'm #old but I'm willing to give it a try if it means making friends in the fandom and sharing my work!

Also, this was my first time using this site in a decade, and lemme tell you I am so proud of myself for figuring out how to tag and create bookmarks and even the page breaks. If you have any advice on how to best navigate this site as a writer, please do let me know I'd love to hear it!

Kiss Your Scars

Din Djarin x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Part of the Equal Partners series. Link to masterlist in bio.

Warnings: Smut, oral (m & f receiving), body worship, slight praise kink, first time together, tender smut, soft!Din, the Child being adorable

Thank you to @tintinwrites​ for giving this a beta read!

~

“Alright little guy,” you held the child in your arms as he cooed and giggled, “You’ve had enough excitement lately. It’s time for bed.”

Din watched with amusement as you took care of the child. It had only been a day since the big battle and blowout on Nevarro, and ever since then the child seemed more lively than ever. But, you took such good care of the child, and Din felt his heart swell with emotion as he watched you with him.

Just as you turned to set the child down in his little cot, Din called your name, “Will…” he started when you turned around to face him, “Will you stay in my quarters tonight?” he asked as he was uncharastically nervous.

You smiled softly at him as you felt your heart pound in your chest, “Of course,” your voice was soft as you felt equally nervous. 

The two of you had just recently confessed your feelings that you each had for the other, and things felt different since then. It wasn’t a bad different, but unsaid words hung in the air between you and neither of you had addressed it yet.

Din nodded and watched you tuck the child in before you turned back to him, “Let me just clean up first, ok? I’ll be there in a few.”

“Alright,” he almost sounded disappointed, but he didn’t say anything more.

Keep reading

You Deserve It (The Mandalorian x Reader) [SMUT]

hello!!!! this is my first fic for this fandom (and of course it had to be smut lmao)

based off of a drabble by @mandadoration and probably an ask sent to @zeldasayer (i love both of them please check them out!!!!)

so anyway:

summary: You are a mechanic for the famed Mandalorian, but in a typical hyperdrive jump, your relationship changes. (porn w/o plot…yeah)

warnings: smut, cockwarming, swearing (obvs), breeding kink if u squint

lmk if u want to be tagged in future things!! i have a few in planning rn and more on the way!!!!

here it is on ao3!!

—

The Mandalorian was sitting in the captain’s chair when you returned from putting the child to sleep in the hull. You sighed and plopped into the copilot’s seat. Mando hired you as a mechanic for his hunk of junk he called his ship, but inevitably you turned into a jack-of-all-trades with the kid and the bounty hunters after it. You two were now heading for one of Mando’s contacts who could offer a haven for a couple of days.

“Kid’s asleep,” you said, propping your legs over the armrests of the seat. “You need me for anything?” You let your head fall against the back of the chair. It had been a long day and all you wanted to do was fall into your cot down in the hull and sleep through the hyperdrive jump.

“Yeah,” Mando grunted from the control panel. “Take off your clothes.”

Keep reading

To Die, To Sleep

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Wordcount: +1.8K  Request: Din has a nightmare about losing you. You comfort him. Warnings: Violence. Rough Sex in a lil space. 

It’s all wrong. 

There are three suns in the burnt sky - purple clouds that drift and sag into the horizon. City streets cluttered with trash and fragments of ships - broken, shattered droid parts. The road is obsidian, slick with oil. 

The galaxy weeps platinum rain - shiny and silver and warm as it runs down his face.

His face.

Keep reading

Updated: March 11th.

* = explicit/mature content.

Headcanon Masterlist

AO3 | Ko-fi

Take the Bait - part 1* | part 2* (Din/Boba threesome).

Cutting Corners*

After Dark*

Take the Bait - part 1* | part 2* (Din/Boba threesome).

Antisocial*

NSFW Alphabet*

A Slip of the Tongue*

Ease Into It*

Coming soon.

Coming soon.

Coming soon.

Coming soon.

Din Djarin || trans!reader & m!reader recs

Jango Fett

I devoured this story.

It became one of my favorites here.

Everything is so amazingly written and makes you feel so much emotions 😭😭😭

Can't wait to read the rest of this beautiful story that broke my heart with the "we have something beautiful here, but I have to go home soon and I can't continue what we have" plot 😭😭😭

Competing For Christmas: Masterlist

Modern Din Djarin x Female Reader

Summary:

 After a recent breakup, you decide that you still want to join your town’s Christmas Competition - and are encouraged by friends to ask your brooding coworker to be your partner. 

Unwilling to get too close and let your feelings for the man ruin your new friendship, you attempt to keep your distance. But he’s also keeping his distance - and maybe even throwing the competition to an extent - to protect a secret of his own. 

Series Warnings:

This is pure Hallmark cheese, but just to cover my bases:

- Each individual chapter lists warnings/specific summaries. Smut chapters are marked with *

Part 1: The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year 

Part 2: Oh, Christmas Tree

Part 3: Jingle Bell Rock 

Trivia Questions / Christmas Bingo Sheet / Word Scramble

Part 4: Frosty The Snowman

Cookie Inspiration 1 / Cookie Inspiration 2 / Aprons

Part 5: Holly Jolly Christmas: The Date / The Snowman Event

The snowmen: Frosty / The Snowman / Pigpen’s snowman

Interlude: Under My Tree (Din’s POV)

Part 6: Let It Snow: The Aftermath / The Scavenger Hunt

The scavenger hunt: Clue list / Bonus items

Part 7: Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas 

Epilogue: Here Comes Santa Claus 

Art: 

Din and the cookies (chapter 4) by @valkblue

Din and Grogu portrait by @guiltypleasure-art

*chapter titles and release dates are tentative and may shift slightly. More chapters may be added as I write. We will see what happens!

I have no words to describe this gem!

touching din | din djarin

Summary: The three times that Din bends his own rules and engages in physical touch. 

his primary love languages are acts of service and physical touch. i will die on this hill. i started this one just to indulge in the thoughts of touching his lovely face. it’s been in the works for a while and although i know it’s far from perfect, i’m glad that it finally gets to see the light of day! warnings: bad language, potential incoherence? idk i’m very tired but i hope you like it tags: plenty of fluff, plenty of indulgent, sfw touching, and then a good handful of angst. rollercoaster central. this takes place over a period of time, so part of it comes after finding out grogu’s name, which is why he’s referred to as many things! word count: 4650 written by: archie

The travelling between planets would’ve been excruciating if not for your life partner and your adoptive child. The three of you made rather an unorthodox family. A runaway from Corellia, a Mandalorian and a… a sweet ball of green. An unorthodox family, indeed, but loving.

The Child chirped and bubbled away on your lap, apparently having a conversation with you while you sat in the pilot seat. You listened attentively, made agreeing noises at all the right moments, the lights of hyperspace travel filling the cabin with slow flashes. He really was so cute. You’d tell him it often, and you’d tell him that Din thought so too, even if he’d never say it. That much was obvious.

It was in the way he carried him, the way he protected him. The occasional pat to his head, or the quiet rub to his long ears as he slept. He wasn’t the type to openly say it, but it was clear, and that was what counted.

The Child reached out to the knob atop the gearstick, fingers wiggling.

“Baby, no. We have to always ask Din about the ship, hm?” You bounced him gently on your knee in an effort to ease the sad coos- but there was no need. A gloved hand reached around you, exposed fingertips closing on the ball. It was unscrewed and placed into the waiting green hands, content whirs and chatters soon filling the air.

The warmth in your chest grew into a smile as you dropped your head back, peering up at the helmeted man that stood just out of sight. “That’s a yes, then?”

A nod. “That’s a yes.”

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