#ok but I just realized they both have long hair (and deep voices... 😳) too lmao 🥴

[deaconsleatherpants]

I still love the thought that while we already have Rapu as the sun, from all we've seen so far Haxan might as well be equated with the moon... 👀🥺

[the-scandalorian]

Ok, I was scrolling fast past your masterlist. Somehow my brain turned "Mando in a tailored suit" into "Mando in a towel". I will never know peace, again.

I'm just imagining sitting there minding your own damn business, and him walking out of the fresher with the towel hung low and his chest and arms still wet. You just 😳 but quickly try to hide it, but something about the tilt of his helmet tells you he absolutely knows. And you just know he has this cocky, self-satisfied look in his eye. And you just feel yourself get very hot and need to excuse yourself very quickly for some ~privacy~...

I feel like there's more, but I am no good with the words (obviously), and my brain is currently melting in need of some privacy of my own. 🫠🙃

first of all, absolutely loveee this thought. second of all, you are great with words. thank you for sharing this delicious idea with me x

gn!reader cw: spice, references to a blow job ***

Mando set the Razor Crest down on a planet with plenty of fresh water, and you both get to indulge in the rare pleasure of long, hot showers.

You've just finished drying off and pulling on clean clothes when the refresher door slides open with a quiet slip of metal, and you look up. Mando steps out, accompanied by a generous amount of steam escaping the tiny space behind him.

Your jaw drops open in surprise.

You're accustomed to seeing him in layers of duraweave and beskar, completely concealed. His helmet, of course, is still in place, but the towel slung low around his waist is...small. The threadbare cotton hugging his narrow hips and strong thighs leaves everything else on display for you.

Somewhere remote, in a better functioning part of your brain, you register that the towel in your hands is large and plush—he clearly gave you the nicer one.

He pauses in the doorway for a moment because his visor is fogged with steam. Mando reaches up to adjust it, and you take advantage of those few seconds to quickly and quietly admire what you never get to see—all the parts you've imagined (quite accurately, apparently).

His body.

His wet, muscular body.

His strong, broad shoulders and the natural taper of his waist.

His golden brown skin is glistening with fat droplets of water, clinging to his chest hair, trailing slowly down the taut slopes of his biceps. A few are following the deep v of his hips or sliding over the soft swell of his belly, to be ultimately caught in the trail of dark hair that disappears under the towel.

It would be too easy to drop forward onto your knees and lick up those droplets of water with a gentle drag of your tongue. Too easy to tug that towel free of its loose knot.

Your mouth waters reflexively at the thought.

You wonder if he's the type to accept that pleasure passively, his hands hanging by his sides and his helmet tipped back while you do the work for him, letting you luxuriate in the taste of his salt and the guttural scrape of his moans.

Or if he's the type to fuck your throat with the controlled thrust of his hips and the steadying hold of his large hand on the back of your head, the lip of his helmet rested against his chest so he can watch himself disappear, again and again, into your mouth until he gets to hear you choke, just a little.

Both. Definitely both.

Gentle...then rough. Give and take. Just how you like it.

The thought jolts you.

More time must have elapsed than you realized because when you drag your eyes back up his body, the steam has dissipated, his visor is clear, and his head is cocked to one side as he regards you with naked curiosity.

So much for subtlety. You snap your jaw closed, embarrassed.

"Everything okay?" he asks, an obvious trace of amusement in his voice.

"Yeah," you reply, forcing a neutral tone and gesturing vaguely at his body, "just not used to seeing you without the armor. Caught me off guard."

"Mmm," he hums, unconvinced.

He turns to leave, and you're treated to one final view—his chiseled shoulders, his strong back, the contours of his tight little ass visible through the thin towel... then he pauses and looks back.

"Next time, you get the small towel."