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#tired space dad

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Mando: So.

Mando: Just to review here.

Mando: I have no ship.

Mando: My son is gone.

Mando: And my creed is broken.

Mando: BUT THANK GOD I HAVE THIS STUPID SWORD I DIDN’T WANT THAT GIVES ME RULERSHIP OF A PLANET I HAVE NEVER EVEN SEEN AND THE ONLY WAY TO GET RID OF THIS RESPONSIBILITY IS TO RITUALLY GET MY ASS KICKED.

Everyone else on the bridge of the Imperial Cruiser: ………

Mando: LOVE THAT FOR ME.

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ok but let's ask for the real questions

where are the bts pics of pedro pascal and timothy olyphant because i need them. for reasons.

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this man must be stopped.

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MY DAD JUST SENT THIS TO ME

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one (1) tired space dad in a nutshell

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brown eyes……… i can’t believe Jon Favreau reads rough day

You: “Do you have brown eyes?”

Din Djarin: “Yes.”

Jon Favreau at 4am:

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From Instagram. Artist Zackspolitation

Thanks @pedroisakeeper

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everyone commenting on how din was basically a wall for fennec to hide behind and how he kept running at the force wall like “what was he thinking” HE WASN’T 

din is a HIMBO, ok, he is pure of heart, thicc of thigh, and dumb of ass. he has two braincells and both are occupied with loving and caring for his son. din might be clever, and a good bounty hunter, and even dangerous, but he’s still a himbo. don’t look for a deeper thought process because there isn’t one! if Grogu is in danger he can’t even spare half a braincell to come up with a plan, he literally just goes “PROTECC BABEY” and that’s it. the man walked into a place he knew was full of ex-imperials and stormtroopers who had paid him a lot of money for the baby and had no exit plan. all din knows is fly ship, shoot gun, and love son. that’s it.

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#best Star Wars quote ever

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Unexpected

Part1

(The Mandalorian x Reader)

Rated: E

Summary: You’re having some fun on your own, when he hears you. What happens next, you didn’t expect.

Notes: So, as much as I love bigbaddom!Din, I can’t help but wonder about ¬fearless capable lethal bounty hunter who’s sexually repressed because apparently he comes from some ultraconservative cult. And here we are!

You fucked up. You fucked up big time.

You stare at your own reflection in the tiny cracked mirror in the fresher, and all you can see is your dumb face staring back at you.

You sigh. This was unexpected. And now that you think of it, it’s all on you. Letting your mind go wild, as usual. Making up these little stories in your head that eventually get rooted in there. And now you have to deal with it.

“You should have told me sooner, sweet girl” he rasps, is modulated voice next to your ear making you shiver. You can feel the cold beskar against your temple, as he whispers to you. “I should have known you needed some attention, little thing”. 

His fingers rub between your legs, little circles over your clit, just slow enough to keep you on edge.

“Mando, please…” you whine.

He chuckles. Fuck, if that’s not the most erotic sound you’ve ever heard. “You sound so good when you beg for me, sweet girl”. His other hand pinches your nipple and you gasp, arching your back, needing more. “Should make you beg more often” he mutters into your neck. 

“Please, Mando- I need- fuck, Mando, please…” you moan.

“Tell me” he commands, low and rough. “Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need” and fuck if he doesn’t sound like he wants to rip the words out of your mouth.

You’re almost there. Almost.

“Fuck… I…” you can feel it coming. So, so close. “Pleaseee...”

...and suddenly the lights turn on.

“Girl, what’s wrong?”

You gasp and pull the blanket over your chest, clinging to it like your life depends on it. You blink a few times, trying to get your sight to cooperate at the sudden brightness in the hatch. The scent on your own fingers reach your nostrils and it hits you like a slap.

Shit. Shitshitthiscannotbehappeningpleasenotellmethisisn’thappening.

Yet here you are, in your little nook between two cargo boxes where you’ve made your makeshift bed. Sweating, panting, hair sticking to your forehead, and wanting nothing more than hide under the blankets and never come back.

He heard you. You got carried away, and he fucking heard you.

“What’s wrong?” he repeats, walking down the last step into the hatch.

“Uhm...I…, no, I…” you stutter. This cannot be happening.

“Are you in pain?” 

For some reason your brain starts working again. He sounds... worried. He takes a step towards you, but you can’t help it. You cower against the wall, and he stops immediately.

“You don’t… don’t be scared. What’s wrong?” 

He sounds… soft. Why does he sound so soft? You gather all your strength and look up at him. He’s slightly slouched, one of his hands up in surrender. Does he think you’re scared of him?

He can’t be fucking serious. The ache between your legs won’t let you think straight, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing. You close your eyes again, take a deep breath, and try to find something to say. Very, very unsuccessfully.

“You’re sweating. Are you ill?” So fucking soft, it’s alarming.

“No, Mando…” you want to explain, but you can’t remember any words at the moment.

“Are you in pain?” And he sounds genuinely concerned. It can’t be. It just can’t. “Can you hear me?”  

Fuck. Does he ----really not know what you were doing?

“Mando, I’m… I’m fine, I just...You startled me.” You find the will to stare at his visor for a few seconds, waiting for him to realize what he just walked into. Hopefully he’ll just leave. You can die from embarrassment later.

So. You thought you’d grown accustomed to weird awkward silences around him. You didn’t.

“Is there anything you need?”

Holy fuck, he did not just say that. 

And here’s the thing. You’ve thought about him saying those words. It’s one of the many scenarios you’ve concocted  in your mind, during those long nights by yourself in your little nook. After the baby is asleep.

Sprawled on the floor, murmuring his name, rubbing yourself just the way you need to make it last. Then he’d walk in, and say something along those lines. “Let me help you, sweet girl” or “If you needed some relief all you had to do was ask.” Oh, yes. That’s one of the good ones.

But this isn’t like that. His voice doesn’t have that rasp, his breathing doesn’t change, his voice doesn’t lower that bit that makes the words just perfect.

He’s concerned. He’s actually asking. And that’s how you know for sure. He has no fucking clue.

Something tugs at your chest, and gives you enough momentum to react.

“I’m fine, Mando. Thanks for checking, I just… need to go back to sleep.” you assure him, as steady and calm as you can manage. You’d try to give him a smile if you could get your face to cooperate.

He stays there for a beat. “Good” is all he says, before turning around and climbing back to the cockpit.

You listen to his footsteps as he returns to the cockpit, and then the lights go out. 

So there you are. Alone, in your little nook. Wet, and aching. Breathing hard. Confused. Sweating. You were aware you didn’t know much about him. That much was true. And your little fantasies may have made you see him as something a little different than he actually was.

But this just was… unexpected.

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so I’ve decided to write a little something

I haven’t written in a while, but I’m simping for the tin man so hard, I couldn’t help it

and listen, I’ve been lurking for months, reading all the soft din, and the rough din and i mcfreaking love it BUT I need some inexperienced din

especially since we know he comes from an ultraconservative strange cult, I can’t help but wonder

because I just know there is something there

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Din using his son Grogu’s name

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I'm constantly torn between

sexually experienced iusedtobeabadguyandwenttobrothelsallthetime depraved rough din

and

Touchstarved almost a virgin idontknowwhatishappening soft din

although both versions have never kissed anyone because helmet and stuff