#ship: candy and din.

[slashaer]

DIN DJARIN: YOU MAKE IT HARD TO FOCUS.

an unexpected journey, and an unexpected companionship. as important as this escapade is — saving a jedi child — candy found that she was enjoying her time with din, in spite of some perilous moments. it wasn't often that she worked with other bounty hunters, but din was proving himself to be someone she could trust — a rare feat for the woman. previous to din's exclamation, candice had removed her cloak and let down her hair, the fiery curls falling delicately down her shoulders. she'd been talking freely about their plans for the upcoming days, painting the journey in as positive of a light as she could. she only falls quiet when din speaks to her in that low voice of his. if she hadn't been getting to know him better throughout this mission, candy might take his words as an insult. it could be misconstrued as a passive aggressive dig at her sometimes loud and overbearing personality. but when candy looks at din, even with his trusty helmet still covering his face, she could tell that's not what he meant. 'i'm sorry, am i distracting you?' candice asks innocently, hiding her smile as she combs fingers through her hair. 'is there anything i might be able to do to help you focus?' @satellitewar.

[loslentesdepedrito]

Paleta

Din gif by: @themandaloriansource My Masterlist

Pairing: Virgin!Din Djarin x f!reader (Both Din and reader speak Spanish, and translations are provided.)

Word count: 11.2k+

Summary: You and Din accept a job to extract a flower from a planet neither of you has been to before. The instructions seem easy enough, but they do warn to be careful with the flower's pollen because of its unknown effects. Inspired by the song Paleta by Wisin & Yandel ft. Daddy Yankee.

Rating: 18+ Explicit content (MDNI) Tags and CW: canon divergent, can be considered dubious consent due to sex pollen, Din is a virgin in all aspects, and reader is not, poor Din being horny since the beginning, slight angst, happy ending, reader is shorter than Din and is carried by him in one scene, mami kink?, unprotected piv, oral (f and m receiving), some nipple play, multiple orgasms, creampie, facial, slight cum eating, shy Din then confident Din. To my knowledge, the Star Wars Universe doesn't have a purple planet, so I borrowed the Purple Dimension from Marvel Comics.

A/N: If you haven't had the chance yet, I beg you to check out the artwork by @immarocketman. This specific Din is exactly what I had envisioned for one of the scenes here. Their talent is remarkable, and I plan to explore more of their blog soon. Also, I mentioned that I was considering leaving and promised to provide an answer, but truth be told, I still haven't decided 😅. More on that in the end notes. For now, just sit back and enjoy the story!

In the passenger chair behind you, Din's voice, agitated and piercing, breaks the silence of the ship's quiet hum. "Can you stop sucking on that thing?" His patience has finally reached its limit, worn down by the seemingly endless hours of watching you indulge in that infuriatingly purple lollipop. He's been forced to watch, and his frustration grows with each smacking pop you make.

Seated in the pilot's chair, you remain unfazed. The tone of Din's voice doesn't intimidate you; if anything, it amuses you. With a nonchalant pop, you remove the candy from your mouth, emitting a deliberate sound that only seems to fuel Din's annoyance.

"No," you reply plainly, still refusing to meet his gaze. You slide the sweet back between your lips and continue navigating the ship.

In the aftermath of a recent encounter with a Rancor that left Din nursing an injury on his left side, he reluctantly handed over the piloting duties to you as you traveled to a planet named the Purple Dimension – the location for your next assignment. Clutched tightly in Din's hand was a holopuck, its contents holding crucial information regarding the upcoming bounty hunt.

As the ship coursed through space, Din's growing frustration took its toll on the holopuck. The round object seemed on the verge of shattering under the pressure of his grip. The puck contained a holographic image of the bounty—an exotic flower—its value measured in credits, along with instructions. The explicit instructions attached required the flower to be carefully extracted and returned unharmed, without its pollen, as it was thought that its pollen could contain a substance that might trigger an unknown reaction.

The substantial payoff stemmed from the fact that a botanist sought to study the flower beyond its native habitat, resorting to placing a bounty to facilitate this unconventional research, as the botanist was unable to travel to the planet where the flower exclusively thrived. The job was one of the most unusual ones you've had, but the reward led to you and Din accepting the job.

Your fingers, warmed by the prolonged contact with the ship's controls, grasp the handles. Four fingers curl around the black handles, while your thumbs press firmly on the top. Your focus stays fixed on the pitch-black expanse ahead, where the distant stars provide the only source of light. Absentmindedly, the lollipop remains in your mouth, licked without the need for your hands.

Abruptly, Din interjects, "It's going to give you cavities," he declares, his tone laden with frustration that transcends the mere mention of cavities—his concern sounding more like a personal grievance.

With casualness, you reply, not quite understanding the intensity of his objection, "I brush my teeth thrice a day."

Din persists, his annoyance evident. "It's going to leave your teeth stained."

Unbothered, you respond, "This one never does," as you continue to indulge in the sweet.

Din, seemingly pulling thoughts out of thin air, desperately tries to dissuade you from sucking that godforsaken candy. "Don’t you hate grape-flavored stuff?" he questions, grasping at any argument to put an end to the incessant sucking of the lollipop.

“It’s very berry-flavored. It tastes delicious; I wouldn’t keep sucking if I didn’t like it,” you calmly assert, savoring the flavor while Din, in a moment of quiet frustration, squeezes the puck once more to stifle a groan at the words ‘It tastes delicious, I wouldn’t keep sucking if I didn’t like it.'

“Just stop freaking sucking the lollipop!” Din suddenly roars, his composure slipping away.

“Who pissed on your breakfast today? Lower your voice, would you? The kid is sleeping,” you retort sharply, whipping your head behind to find Din’s metal helmet tipped back against the red cushion of his chair.

He grumbles.

“Why does my candy bother you?” you ask, shifting your attention back to the path ahead.

“Let’s switch,” Din says, getting up with a slight grit in his teeth that you don’t quite catch.

“You’re hurt,” you remind him, part stating the obvious and part expressing genuine concern.

“I'm better,” he insists, placing his hand right next to you on the control panel.

You gulp and, without uttering a word, rise from your seat, seamlessly swapping places with him. The front of the ship isn’t the most spacious, and when you and Din brush up against each other, a subtle electricity passes between you, and he feels himself crumble at the touch. If it weren’t for his entire body being covered in beskar, you would easily see the physical effect you have on him.

“It’s distracting,” Din mutters, attempting to mask and ignore his feelings once he's settled back into the pilot’s chair.

“Oh, just focus on the mission, tin man,” you roll your eyes at him.

Din sighs out in frustration, and his voice modulator emits a gruff tone. “For the thousandth time, my armor isn’t made out of tin-”

“It’s made from beskar,” you interject, mimicking him with a sly grin as you repeat the exact words.

He doesn’t appreciate your tone, and he turns to give you a hard look through his helmet’s T-visor. All Din can focus on, however, is the way your lips wrap around the round hard candy. It’s shiny, and he can hear the sucking and stickiness echoing in his helmet. He's been twitching and growing in his pants, desperately trying to wield away his arousal without resorting to adjusting himself or deep breaths. Fucking miss my codpiece, he thinks.

With an audible pop, you remove the lollipop from your mouth and extend it to Din. “Do you want some of my candy?”

“No,” he replies curtly.

“Then stop staring!” you retort, emphasizing the word 'staring'. “You’re so tense, Maker, you need to get laid.”

At your words, Din's hands jerk, and the ship plummets.

"Din!" you scream, your stomach churning as your heart lodges itself in your throat. The velocity of descent sends a surge of fear through your veins. One hand instinctively shoots out to grip the ship’s side, desperately seeking something to brace against, while the other clutches the child, keeping him from sliding off his seat.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Din mutters, skillfully lifting the ship back to its original height after the sudden drop.

As your heartbeat gradually regulates, you steal a glance at Grogu, finding him still peacefully asleep. You sense you hit a delicate spot with Din, prompting you to let go of the teasing for now.

Wanting to shift the conversation, you say, “I wonder why no one else took the job. It’s great pay for what seems like a relatively easy missio- I mean job.” The planet you're headed to isn't popular; people don’t say why, but not many choose to visit.

“You get the money and don’t question shit,” Din says even though he has the same question.

Choosing not to press further, you turn your attention to the window. Up ahead, there's a thin, straight brown light, expanding seemingly from the horizon and stretching into what appears to be an eternity.

“We’re going to pass through the barrier now,” Din announces. The brown light grows more pronounced as the ship steadily approaches.

You tighten your seatbelt, securing yourself further, and place a protective hand on Grogu. Din steers the spaceship forward, and the moment the ship makes contact with the barrier, it propels forward at a rapid speed.

The sensation makes your head a bit fuzzy, and when you open your eyes, you're mesmerized by the surreal sights. Before you, four massive planets come into view. Oddly, they all appear to be precisely the same size. Each possesses a unique hue: Red, Purple, Green, and Yellow, standing in perfect alignment against the vast backdrop of the black vacuum of space.

Din goes straight for the purple planet, and as you draw closer, you're granted a more detailed view. The Purple Dimension, unlike its counterparts, lacks a ring. Indentations mark its surface, and as you approach, bodies of water and stunning mountain ranges become visible. Din tilts the ship, guiding it into the planet's atmosphere. The moment the ship breaches the surface, sheer awe envelops you. The bodies of water below cast an ethereal glow with bioluminescence, and the entire landscape bathes in an even color due to the indigo-tinted sky.

While you try to absorb the beauty of your surroundings in the darkness, the ship lands on a plain, sending purple dirt flying with the impact.

Din flicks off some switches, and you unbuckle your seat belt. “What do we do with Grogu?” you ask, standing up.

“We take him.”

“Are you sure? I can go and retrieve the flower, and you stay here with the kid,” you suggest.

“No. We’ll all go,” he declares, leaving no room for argument.

“Okay then. You’ve got the tracking fob, right?”

He hums in confirmation and retrieves the holopuck, activating it to reveal a holograph. A large flower materializes, towering at least 8 inches minus its stem. Eight petals surround a prominent style, with smaller styles adorning the central one. The holograph lacks vivid color, displaying only muted hues of blue that make it a challenge to discern the flower's true colors from the image alone.

“The target is on the water,” Din informs, and as if on cue, the child wakes up. You both cast a quick glance at the child, who begins to coo and blink up at both of you. It's a familiar routine for Grogu; he knows when you both have jobs and patiently waits for one of you to leave so he can follow.

“It was explicitly stated that the flower needed to have its roots, so…,” you bend down to retrieve an item you purchased. Unbeknownst to you, Din's gaze lingers, tracing the contours of your form as you unfold a blanket from what seems to be a ceramic container. He tries to maintain composure, but he can't help the involuntary hitch in his breath, his eyes irresistibly drawn to you. You finally stand back up, and with a smile, you unveil a flower pot.

“La compré para plantar la flor por si acaso (I bought this to plant the flower just in case),” you say, the sincerity in your voice softening the edges of your teasing banter. The idea of the flower handing in the flower lifeless after your efforts is not an option.

Din, his gaze lingering on you, manages to tilt his head slightly and inquire, “¿Cuánto te costó?” (How much did it cost you?)"

“No mucho (not a lot),” you brush him off casually, heading towards the exit with the flowerpot cradled in your arms. There's no need to call for the little boy; he immediately follows you in his floating pram.

“Esta niña (this girl),” Din grumbles, hands on his waist, shaking his head. He gives himself a silent pep talk, repeating that he can't entertain certain thoughts about you. Wishing for just five minutes—hell, two minutes—to work himself and spill over his fist, so he could stop the relentless thoughts. The thoughts that have replayed in his mind throughout the entire journey persist, and he knows they'll linger, continuing to haunt him.

After a few deep breaths, Din speed walks to the exit, his heavy footsteps echoing throughout the ship. He finds you and Grogu outside, with you carrying a bag over your shoulders, facing the water.

You're absorbed in the breathtaking sight, and it reinforces why you love your job as a bounty hunter. Yes, you deal with tracking down criminals, and yes, your renowned career is undeniably dangerous. But sights like this one make you believe it's worth it, plus traveling with Din and the baby is an added bonus. Grogu is an adorable kid, and Din is… Din.

You hear the Razor Crest's door closing and quickly capture a mental picture of the landscape. The ship lands on a purplish mountain range, not tall enough to obscure the view of the river below, yet sufficiently elevated. The sky, a dark shade of purple, accentuates the breathtaking brilliance of the stars. All the purple stretches out for miles, and even the majority of the forestation is painted in indigo hues. You turn your head by 90 degrees and are met with plum-colored plains stretching as far as the eye can see. Back to where the ship landed, there appears to be a beach, the sand's natural hue indeterminable against the sky's purple tint. However, the water is unmistakably translucent, a purplish-blue adorned with white sparkles, bioluminescent in nature. A few feet from the shore, a large forest comes into view, and hints of green seem to intermingle within the purple foliage. It's a strange sight, seeing such distinct biomes coexisting within a close distance, a landscape unlike any you've seen before.

“C’mon,” Din says, taking the lead. You and the child follow, catching up to his long strides. The ground beneath you feels somewhat familiar, similar to your home planet, yet you know better than to let your guard down. There's always a chance of something lurking, ready to trip you up, as you've learned the hard way before.

Silence envelops your trio until you reach the edge of the mountain. Grogu heads in a straight line, beginning a slow descent.

“Wait,” Din orders, making the first move to ensure the steps are secure before stretching out his gloved hand. You hesitate for a moment, apprehensive about making a fool of yourself at the slightest contact. Eventually, you wrap your fingers around Din’s hand, shivering at the unexpected warmth beneath his glove's black palm, contrasting with the cold yellow exterior. Din guides you as you land on the flat part of the mountain, offering a mix of instructions in a steady rhythm. “One foot in front of the other, watch your step, cuidado (careful),” he advises. This pattern continues as Din takes the lead, guiding your descent until you reach the base, where Grogu patiently waits.

Once you reach the sandy shore, you follow Din, who has the tracking fob out. He heads to the left, where many boulders create a makeshift wall. From the mountain's top, you had noticed the forest in that direction, just a few steps beyond the boulders and near the deeper part of the water. As you follow Din, you feel the temperature rising, and gradually, a wave of heat washes over you. The sun's intensity beats down, and warmth starts to cling uncomfortably to your skin.

Amidst the heat, a realization strikes you: you have something in your bag that could melt." Quickly unzipping the black bag, you retrieve a chocolate bar, its usual vibrant red wrapper transformed into a different hue by the planet's purple coloring. The word 'Tronky' is written in its original white letters, standing out against the altered shiny plastic. The wrapper displays an image of the candy, resembling a tree trunk with a few hazelnuts and a single leaf. The candy itself is thin, requiring only a few bites to finish.

Din, on high alert, hears a crinkle and turns to look behind. He's met with the sight of you biting into the wafer chocolate bar. As the hazelnut spread hits your tongue, you moan in delight. Din's boot gets stuck between a rock on the sand, and his body lurches forward. Before he can plummet to the ground, he manages to hold himself up with a large boulder. The wind blows his cape as he straightens up. Knowing better than to ask if he's okay, you pretend you didn't see and walk next to him, just in case he trips again. The crunch of the wafer blends in with the soothing sounds of waves crashing on the shore.

“Que rico (So good),” you mumble to yourself, throwing your head back.

Against his will, Din looks at you, captivated by all your features illuminated against the purple light. He plays with his cape, determined to focus on the tracking device to avoid crushing it. Din tries to ignore the sounds you think you’re hiding, silently praying you'll finish that chocolate bar soon. As the forest comes into view, he turns to tell you where to go. However, what he sees nearly has him stumbling again. You’ve finished the bar, and melted chocolate sits on your bottom lip.

“You’ve umm…” Din points at his own lips over his mask.

Confusion clouds your expression, and you stand there, looking bewildered. He points back at his helmet, “your…” he trails off. Still not understanding, you remain puzzled, and he puts the tracker in his pocket before stepping forward.

“Tienes chocolate en tu labio (you have chocolate on your lip),” he says in a low voice, placing one hand behind your head while using the other to touch your lips. You feel the soft and grainy texture of the leather against your skin, and you gasp, parting your lips. Din wipes off the chocolate in one smooth flick of his wrist. In that moment, he's thankful for his training, as it's the only reason he manages to slowly withdraw his hands, fighting the urge to put his finger inside your mouth.

Your brain short circuits, and you're only capable of whispering, “gracias (thank you.)"

Din nods his head and continues walking toward the forest. As you approach, you notice at the edge there's a large flower.

“Hey, is that what we’re looking for?” you say excitedly, pointing to the glowing flower that stands out.

Both of you pick up the pace and eventually reach it. There's no need to delve into the forest since the plant is a good two feet away from the trees, near the shoreline.

“Magellanica sinensis,” Din says, identifying the flower.

“Wow,” you exclaim in amazement as you gaze at the flower. “Wow,” you exclaim in amazement as you gaze at the flower. It's an exact replica of what's on the holopuck. In person, the eight big petals' exterior is a deep shade of purple. When you look closely, the inside of the flower displays a lighter color—you guess it's pink. As you observe, specs on the petals of different sizes become apparent, and you can't help but admire the dark veins running through the petals, resembling ink spilled and delicately bleeding through the vibrant hues of purple. You also notice seven stamens with equally spaced, fluffy anthers forming a circle. Similar to a hibiscus flower, this plant has one tall pistil. You inhale deeply as the pleasant aroma that makes you think of apples hits your nose when you lean closer. The water surrounding the plant captivates you as well. You feel an undeniable impulse to step into the water, but Din's voice pulls you away from that tempting idea.

“You brought the tools?”

“Yes,” you affirm, scrambling to take them out of your bag. Kneeling on the lilac-purple sand, you retrieve the gardening tools: a shovel, a large hand rake, and gloves. As they lay before you, you glance up at Din, finding him looking down at you, illuminated by the soft purple glow. Your breath catches in your throat. He’s so beautiful.

Little do you know, Din is thinking the same thing about you. There you are on your knees, looking up at him, and he can't help but imagine you in that same position in a different scenario. It's what he thought about last night in his room, tugging and tugging at himself, spilling on his sheets. Every time he succumbs to such desires, a pit of guilt and shame envelops him—just like now, snapping him back to reality.

“Please gather soil in the pot, and I'll remove the plant from the ground,” Din instructs, an unusual 'please' slipping from his lips. You nod, and he hands you the rake while he takes the shovel. Not bothering to get up, you crawl a little to the right, away from the flower, and start scooping soil onto the orange pot, careful not to disturb any loose leaves. As you work, a good layer of soil forms on the ceramic, creating a small pile ready for Din once he puts the flower inside.

He asks for the recipient, and you swiftly hand it to him. Watching attentively, you see him gently add the glowing plant to the flowerpot. The roots are surprisingly long, and you're thankful you opted for an extra-large pot. Your intuition about the flower's size was right—it's almost the size of your head, and the roots add even more height.

“Pásame la tierra,” Din requests, looking at the plant and realizing it needs more soil to cover the roots. You comply, handing him more soil while he reminds you to keep your distance since the obvious powder over the petals still needs to be cleaned.

“It’s getting too dark; I’ll take it back, and you take the child to his room. I'll clean the flower before we depart,” Din decides, prioritizing your safety and the kid's.

You collect the tools, put them back in your bag, and finally get up.

“You and the kid go first,” he insists, leaving no room for argument.

After walking back past the boulders and climbing the mountain, you take Grogu to his room, tucking him into bed. A smile creeps onto your face as you recall shopping with Din and his stress about finding the best mattress. You lost count of how many vendors assumed you and Din were parents to the same child, making references to you as his wife. Din was glad he never took off his mask in front of others, as he got flustered every time someone made that assumption.

With the baby quickly asleep, you quietly make your way back down to see what's taking Din so long.

You're walking down the dock when you hear Din cuss.

“Are you okay?” you ask, alarmed at the possibility that he might have hurt himself while carrying the heavy pot.

“Yeah, I just hurt my side, and it’s still tender,” Din grits through his teeth, aware that he can't hide the truth from you; you'd see right through any lie.

“Come here,” you beckon, but it’s you who walks to him. You guide him to sit on a bench and position yourself between his knees. Din avoids meeting your gaze, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Sensing his discomfort, you ask, “Do you think it’s bruised?” You notice that before you arrived, he had peeled off a small part of his body stocking over his side.

You catch a glimpse of his exposed skin, only the second time you've seen it—the first being when he took off his gloves while you were injured and bleeding out two months ago.

“Can I touch you?” you whisper.

Din can't handle the question, especially with the way you're looking up at him. His arm jerks over the bench. He feels the flower pot and, through his cloudy and hazy mind, briefly remembers he placed the flower there. But it's too late; he accidentally knocks it over, and it plummets onto the ship’s floor.

The pot shatters, and you're both engulfed in a cloud of yellow dust. Shocked, you gasp and inadvertently inhale the powder. Violent coughs rack your body, and you close your eyes to shield them from the unknown substance. The powder doesn’t relent; it keeps engulfing you, and your throat constricts. Uncomfortable sensations intensify and your senses heighten. The thumping of your heartbeat becomes almost deafening, and you scramble to get up.

Din, shielded by his suit, doesn’t feel the same effects, but he sees your struggle and panics. All of his instincts are screaming to do something and in a desperate move, he takes off his helmet with an audible hiss. The powder rushes toward his nostrils, and he can't prevent inhaling it. Quickly, he lifts it off his head and rushes to place it over yours. You feel a cold metal sensation over your head, and your vision darkens. Confused, you raise your hands to your head, realizing Din's helmet is now covering you. The powder is less potent with the beskar helmet, but since you lack the full armor, some dust still infiltrates your system. Amidst the odd sensations and confusion, one emotion surges to the forefront: desire.

Knowing Din's helmet is over your head, you suddenly realize his face is exposed. Though tempted to open your eyes, you resist, knowing his creed means everything to him. You actively fight against yourself to keep your eyes shut.

Now, it's Din who is the most exposed. He holds his breath to avoid inhaling the substance, but he quickly discovers that not breathing only intensifies the burning sensation in his throat, forcing him to open up his breathing—what the powder wants.

Din can't endure it any longer. He takes you by the hand and pulls you urgently, all his instincts urging him to claim you as his own. As he guides you to his room to escape the relentless pollen, he can feel himself growing harder with each step.

The slightest friction from his suit elicits a sigh of relief. You hear him, and it causes the dampness between your thighs to intensify. Both of you, eyes still closed, manage to reach Din’s room.

He pushes you inside and closes the door. For a fleeting moment, he questions whether keeping you in the same confined space as him was a mistake. Then, he hears your sweet voice.

“Din, it hurts,” you say, on the verge of tears.

“What hurts, cyar'ika?” he questions, feeling a pain of his own. He recognizes the ache he's experiencing—a longing that hurts, the pain of not being able to reach you, entwine his body with yours. He wonders if the powder is affecting his virgin ass differently.

“I-” The words catch in your throat, and with eyes shut, you sit down on Din’s mattress. It's so soft, and the scent of him surrounds you. With trembling hands, you lift the helmet off your head. “I just… I feel like my body hurts,” you reply vaguely.

“Where?” He rasps, eyes flying open as he sees you lying down and squirming on his bed. His resolve crumbles, and he has to physically restrain himself against the wall to resist walking toward you.

“Uhh,” you breathe, the sound morphing into a moan. “Between my thighs,” you admit, unable to lie. Your entire focus is consumed by the desperate need to touch yourself, to feel Din's touch.

“Din,” you whine, and the plea only makes him clench his fists, fighting the urge to go to you. “You should leave.”

“Can’t leave you alone,” Din chokes out, his gaze fixed on you as you start unbuttoning your pants.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you repeat, your hand finding its way down to your core. Despite any potential embarrassment, the overwhelming sensation induced by the pollen outweighs everything. With Din in the room, you can't resist the burning desire.

As your hand slides underneath the soft fabric of your panties, instant relief washes over you. Rubbing circles over your clit, you thrash on Din’s bed, succumbing to the frenzy of desire that the pollen has ignited.

Din can’t bring himself to close his eyes. A little voice demands him to keep his eyes open and to touch you. He hears your whines, and he feels his body temperature rise. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he bites the leather, tasting its texture briefly. He doesn’t dwell on it too long; he rips his head away, and the glove dangles between his teeth. Frantically, he repeats this for the other hand. Now, his hands and head are bare. Din's gaze is on you again, and he sees that now you’ve got your entire hand between your thighs. A strangled noise escapes his throat, and you keep moaning, causing sweat to bead on Din’s forehead without any physical exertion.

With your eyes still closed, you don’t know what Din is doing. Following your instincts, you have your entire hand between your thighs, your index and middle fingers delving deep, while your thumb works on your pearl. Wet squelching sounds, along with your moans, fill the room.

“So wet,” you mutter unconsciously. It’s true; you have so much slick that it’s dripped onto your underwear, feeling uncomfortably wet.

“‘M so-oh!-sorry.” Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as the relentless effect of the substance refuses to subside. Frustration mounts with each attempt, as you’ve tried every flicker on your pearled nub that would usually get you to your climax at this point, but nothing.

You huff and slide your free hand underneath your black shirt. When your hand makes contact with the bare skin, goosebumps erupt across your body. The scalding warmth of your hand travels to your right breast, and as your fingertips hit the smooth fabric of your plain black bra, you bend the cup to reach your nipple. It's pebbled and sensitive to the touch. You hiss but find some pleasure when you roll it between your thumb and index digits.

“Din, I’m so sorry. I can’t stop,” you confess, apology evident in your tone as you work both hands in a feverish attempt to reach your peak. Feeling it build and build, it doesn’t come. Mortified by the silence you think, I’ve made him uncomfortable; he’s going to hate me and kick me o-

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he pants, and amidst the haze of desire, you hear the distinct clatter of metal hitting the floor.

“Din? ¿Qué estás haciendo? (What are you doing?)” you ask, not panicked by the idea of him being naked, but rather concerned that the drug might be compelling him into actions he doesn't want to take. You can say with full confidence that you’ve certainly entertained fantasies involving Din, though not this exact scenario, but the thought of him touching himself has fueled countless fantasies that ended in a mess on your bedsheets while you stifled your own cries with your hand.

Your curiosity battles with respect for his privacy; you so badly want to open your eyes and see him, but you know he's never allowed you to see him before. You won't risk making things worse by breaching that boundary.

“Din?” you ask again.

“Uhh,” comes his broken moan. “Cyar'ika- ahh,” he pants, “p-perdóname, perdóname (forgive me, forgive me),” he utters apologies, and your heightened hearing sharpens. The wet sounds of skin against skin reach your ears, and your heart rate spikes as you realize what he's doing – fisting his dick between his hands.

When the realization crosses your mind, you sit up suddenly. Din takes in your disheveled state – hair tousled, chest heaving, pants unbuttoned and unzipped. He's scared that he might have crossed a line and spooked you. But in your mind, it's quite the opposite. You feel the need to go to your own room; if you stay with Din, you'll break.

“I should go to my quarters,” you say, attempting to get leave. However, you take two steps and stumble.

“No, please. I… I need you,” Din pleads. He's terrified of what this situation means for him, yet he can't bear the thought of you leaving.

“Din, I don’t know what I’ll do if I stay,” you confess. Conversations about your sexual lives have remained nonexistent, as any attempt to bring up the topic with Din has been met with him tensing up.

“Tell me if you want me to take you to my bed. If not, I’ll leave, I promise,” Din says sincerely.

Your mind spins at the thought of finally being with Din, but then, logistical concerns invade your thoughts. You bring your palms over your eyes, ready to shield them just in case you open them involuntarily.

“You don’t have your helmet,” you point out.

“I want you to see me,” he says, and you hear him walking over to you. He gently touches your hands, slowly prying them away. You can feel the heat radiating from both of you, your bodies near boiling. Even though your eyelids are closed, you sense a soft blue light hitting your eyes.

“Mírame (Look at me),” Din whispers.

"Din, your creed… it means everything to you," you murmur with your eyes shut, your concern and care evident in your voice, not wanting him to sacrifice a fundamental part of himself.

He lifts his gaze, and in the soft glow of the room’s blue lights, his eyes speak volumes. "It’s not my creed that means everything to me. It’s you.” He's more than just a Mandalorian at that moment; he’s a man longing to share a part of himself with someone who understands—someone who means more to him than any set of rules or traditions ever could. He’s a man eager to bare every fiber of his being in a way he has never done before to the woman who holds the key to his heart.

"Din," you whisper, your voice carrying a subtle tremor of emotion. The weight of his admission washes over you like a gentle wave, a profound realization of the depth of his feelings. Your heart skips a beat, and a cascade of butterflies takes flight in your stomach as you grasp the tenderness of his words. As it dawns on you that he's opening up, willing to share this intimate part of himself that he's guarded so fiercely, it feels like he has unlocked a door to a chamber of his heart that few have entered. You find yourself standing on the threshold, touched by the privilege of being allowed in.

Your eyes flutter open, and a rush of emotions floods your heart as you see him for the first time. He's older than you, his black hair carrying beads of sweat on his temples. His eyes, a captivating shade of brown, reflect your own gaze back at you. You're drawn to the aquiline nose that gives his face character, and you have a fleeting desire to trace its pattern with your finger. His lips, the lower one slightly plusher, hold a subtle pout, and above them, a well-groomed mustache adds a touch of rugged charm. Stubble decorates his strong jaw, and you notice patches of bare skin, hinting at his inability to grow a full beard – a delightful detail you can't wait to tease him about later.

As you take in the sight before you, Din notices your expression but struggles to decipher it. Your parted lips and tear-filled eyes stir a fear within him, a nagging doubt that he's made a grave mistake. She hates what she sees. This was a mistake. I never should have told her-

"You're so beautiful, Din," the words flow from your lips in a breathy whisper as you tenderly caress his face. His rugged features soften under your touch, but in the midst of this beautiful moment, an involuntary twitch stirs within him.

In the corner of your eye, you catch the movement and let your gaze fall to his lower half. A gasp passes through your lips as you take in the full extent of him. Din, however, misinterprets your reaction, and he finds himself entangled in self-deprecating thoughts. Insecurity gnaws at him as he wonders, Maybe she's seen better. Am I not big enough?

A sudden impulse takes over, and before you realize it, you find yourself on your knees, looking up at Din with blown pupils. The groan that escapes from deep within his lungs is a mix of surprise, desire, and fulfillment. His mind races with the realization that his once-confined dirty dreams are now becoming a reality. A fleeting question crosses his mind: Should I tell her?

"Can I?" you ask, your eyes fixated on his erection, your mouth watering. "Can I touch you?" You clarify.

"Yes, please," he responds, his heavy-lidded eyes looking down at you intently.

Taking a moment to admire Din, you notice the trimmed patch of dark hair leading to his belly button. His thickness is accentuated by veins running along, but your focus zeroes in on a prominent blue vein down the middle, forking at the end. He's cut, and whether it's the blue light or the effect of the powder, you notice a purple hue at the tip, where he's leaking pre-cum. From above you, Din pleads for you to do something.

You oblige, and you take him into your hands, smearing the liquid down to his base. There's an abundance, allowing you to thoroughly coat him. At your touch, Din's head falls backward, and his thighs tremble under the intensity of having another person’s hand on him for the first time.

"Uhn," he breathes out at the sensation of your warm hands enveloping him in a tight grip. Your fingers struggle to wrap fully around his thick length, Oh, he doesn’t fit in my hand, you realize. Adjusting quickly, you bring your left hand to join, both hands working together as they move up and down, utilizing his pre-cum as natural lubrication. Mindful not to cause any discomfort, you bring your mouth closer, preparing to add saliva to further coat him.

"Umm… I've never done this before," Din confesses in a tone you almost miss.

His words cause you to pause, confusion evident on your face as you squirm on your knees. The yellow dust in your bloodstream seems to intensify your need for him by a million.

"Handjob?"

Din appears panicky, realizing he admitted to something he wasn't sure how you would react to. There's no taking the words back, and he opts for honesty. "Everything," he confesses, looking away from you.

It takes a while for you to process his admission. "Oh!” He's a virgin?

Din exhales, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "I just killed the mood, didn’t I?"

"No, no, no, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Really, I'm just shocked. It’s just, it’s you. You’re so beautiful. I mean, I was, um, attracted to you when I met you. I wouldn’t have guessed.” Your voice turns into a hushed whisper. "Although things make sense now.” You tap on his side to make him look down at you. "I’m sorry for assuming," you say, fully honest and apologetic, and then get up.

He looks at you with eyes filled with shame and embarrassment.

"Come here," you say with a reassuring smile and slowly guide him backward until the back of his legs are touching the bed. You raise your hands, place them on his shoulders, and gently press down. Now with Din seated, you kneel once more.

Your eyes can’t help but be pulled to his glistening dick. "Do you want this? Are you sure it's not just the powder? Because I feel it too," you pause, exhaling as the ache in your cunt intensifies. "But I need you to want this with me. It's okay if you don't. We can do other stuff until the effects wear off."

"I do, I do want you," Din nods desperately.

You can sense the sincerity in his words, and the mutual need between you two becomes increasingly difficult to resist. Knowing you can't delay both of your desires any longer, you lower your head slightly and purse your lips. Once you feel a decent stream of saliva accumulate in your mouth, you spit on Din's cock.

"Uh, fuck," he moans in a pained voice. The sight of you spitting on him triggers primal feelings within him, desires he never realized he had until this moment. Now that he's seen it, he knows he wants you to repeat it, as long as you're willing. The urge to tell you to do it again is strong, but when he sees you opening your mouth and guiding his cock into it, coherent thoughts are replaced with pure gibberish.

His head breaches your lips, and the immediate warmth that surrounds his length is otherworldly. "Oh, oh," Din chants, the sensation feeling entirely foreign but undeniably pleasurable as your tongue dances along his sensitive tip.

Sitting back on your knees, you take a moment to admire the man before you. Din throws his head back in pleasure, but as soon as he realizes he can't see you, he quickly brings it forward to look down at you. Despite his best efforts to keep his eyes on you, they occasionally flutter close. Each time they do, he pries them open, forcing them back open, but against his will, they shut again.

He must feel overwhelmed, you think. You want to take it slow, build up to it, but the drug-like substance won't allow for such restraint.

Din opens and closes his mouth, clearly wanting to speak. "You can say it," you encourage him, though your words come out muffled. You peer at him through your eyelashes, continuing to suck.

"It- ah… feels good. You make me feel good."

"Oh, Din, good boy," you praise in your head, his words causing everything in you to flutter, making you more determined to bring him even more pleasure. To reward him, you take a deep breath through your nose, attempting to relax your throat. Once you feel sufficiently relaxed, your hands find Din's hips, careful not to press on the red-blue bruise on his left side. Gripping him firmly with both hands, you rise on your knees, sitting taller, and push your mouth against him in one swift motion.

Din jolts, sitting down abruptly, and “Nngh,” a strangled growl escapes him at the sudden sensation of having his entire dick shoved down your throat. His breathing intensifies, unsure of what to do with his hands. He resorts to gripping his sheets, and sweat begins to dampen his hair, falling onto his forehead.

Maintaining him in the depths of your throat for a few moments, you try your best to stifle any urge to gag. As you begin to pull away, Din lets out incoherent mumbles.

Your fingertips ghost over his injury, then press gently, eliciting a broken groan. "Does your side hurt?" you ask, retreating your fingers.

Din felt a surge of desire when you pressed on his bruise. Though he's embarrassed to admit yet another thing, considering how you tried to hold back for him, he decides to be honest with you. "A little, but… I like it.���

“Oh?” you say, surprised. “Well, we'll explore that next time,” you tell him, quite excited to discover more about what makes him reel.

You remove your hand from his left side and bring it to his shaft. Your fingers sprawl across the thickness, and Din feels them move over his veins. The sensitivity makes him pant out, “Yes, yes, yes.”

With his dick pointing up, you bring your head to the level of his pecs and envelop his tip with your lips. “Oh, fuck, ohh,” he grunts, then loses control of his hands, and his elbows give out. Stumbling backward, his back hits the mattress.

“Din!” you gasp in concern, but your words come out incoherent since you still have him in your mouth. Before you can rise on your legs and lean over to check if he’s okay, he sits back up, his stomach moving. Observing the way the slight roundness of his stomach jumps, you find it attractive and groan into him.

“Ah,” he says, mouth dropping and eyes fluttering.

You relish the effect you have on him, bobbing your head over the tip repeatedly. Instead of going further, you focus on licking his slit every once in a while, savoring the pre-cum that's leaking onto your fist.

While he's a mess above you, Din is captivated by the color and shape of your lips. Her lips… over me… it’s, uh, so good.

Desiring some friction, you rock your hips, though it's to no avail. You whine into him, the vibrations causing Din to groan. Shit, shit, shit, he pants in his head as the heat in his stomach snaps.

Feeling him pulse in your mouth, and judging by his sounds, you know he’s about to cum. Your slick sticks to the inside of your pants at the thought of swallowing his load. Din frantically tries to warn you to get off, “Cum! I’m- ahh,” you don’t let up; you just increase your pace. In the blink of an eye, hot, salty liquid explodes in your mouth. You try to take as much as you can, but you can’t swallow everything fast enough. Gulp after gulp, there’s more, and it spills from your lips onto your right hand that’s wrapped around his base, even landing on the dark patch of hair on his pubic area.

“Oh, fuck,” Din moans, drawing out the K, his hips unconsciously raising ever so lightly, rocking more of him into your mouth.

Once his high subsides, you remove yourself from him and rise from your knees to touch his face, looking to the side. “Din,” you call, and since he doesn’t move his head, you shift to the side of the bed to be face-to-face with him. Your heart breaks when you see his coffee eyes brimming with tears.

“Baby,” you say softly, and it prompts Din's tears to fall. “Why are you crying?” you question gently.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “dank farrik, I’m so pathetic,” Din shakes his head.

“You’re not pathetic, Din,” you assure him.

He inhales sharply. “It’s just that this is the first time… the first time I’ve, um, orgasmed from the hands of another person. For so long, I could never do anything because I was taught it was wrong. I even felt guilty the first time I touched myself, and I just can’t help but feel like I’ve committed some big transgression.”

For a moment, you're stumped. You want to comfort him but are unsure if you'll make things worse while he’s vulnerable.

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” you decide to say. You sit next to him, mindful not to touch him. “I hate that you feel like that. Because what we did shouldn’t make you feel bad. We’re two consenting adults—well, as much as we can think straight because of that weird pollen,” you say, and Din laughs, making you smile. You continue, “Single adults. You shouldn’t feel guilty, Din; it’s natural. We can stop if you want. I won’t think any less of you, I promise,” you bring a hand to your chest and make an X over your heart.

"I still want to continue," he says, reaching for your hand. "I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but everyone has always instilled this belief in me. It feels good hearing from someone else that I shouldn’t feel guilty."

"Okay, baby," you tell him. "What do you want to do next?" You want to make sure the ball is in his court and that you’re not guided by the drug in your system.

"Well, I’m still hard," he says, and you look down to see that, indeed, it's true.

"Oh, wow. I’d take that as a compliment, but I’m pretty sure it’s because of the flower.”

"I want to do something for you now," Din says, rising to his feet and pushing you to lay down on the soft mattress. You instinctively part your legs, and he's the one on his knees now, playing with the unbuttoned button. "May I?" he asks in the sweetest voice.

You lift your hips, and Din hooks his fingers on the waistband of your pants. He begins to slide them down quite fast, leaving you in your panties. Maker, I can see through her underwear, Din mutters in his head, melting at the sight.

"Your thighs, they’re all wet," he comments out loud.

You giggle and cross your hands at the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. "That’s all ‘cause of you, baby," you say in a sultry voice as you unhook your bra and throw it behind you.

Din loses his train of thought when he sees your exposed chest. He stares, mouth agape.

“They’re so…pretty,” he says, mesmerized and blushing. Suddenly, he begins to paw at your panties, rips them off you, and hooks your legs over his shoulders with ease.

You gasp in shock, and it turns to a whine when Din dips his head between your parted thighs, licking an experimental stripe from your tight hole up to your clit. “Ah! D-Din!” you sit up a bit and tangle your hands in his black curls. He groans into you, driven by pure instinct and fragments of recollection from what he had heard when he was working by himself. Attempting to recall bits he had gathered here and there from conversations in bars.

He laps at your juices, his tongue dancing over your most sensitive points, closing his eyes, fully enjoying the taste, moaning out so lovingly almost as though he was the one receiving pleasure. Shit, Din growled in his mind, she tastes so good. You were a moaning mess above him. He was a little sloppy, but his eagerness and hot tongue more than made up for it.

“Mmm…You’re doing great. Just here,” you say and tell him how to touch your clit. After a few words of guidance, Din has it wrapped around his lips.

“Ohhh!” you yelp and rut your hips against his mouth as he sucks your bundle of nerves. His eyes shut in sheer pleasure, the sultry sounds of your moans fueling his desire. You are surprisingly close, and your entire body is covered with a sheer layer of sweat. Your arms and abdomen tire, and you lay down. You raise your head a little, just enough to see Din use his tongue against your pearled nub and bring one hand from your hip to your thighs. You watch in excitement as he lets go of your right leg over his shoulder and flips his wrist on his ventral side. Very gently, he takes his index and middle finger and presses them against your entrance.

"Is this okay?" he rasps, pushing more of his fingers into your slick warmth.

You nod your head fervently, loving the way his thick fingers stretch you open. “Mm… I love your fingers," you gasp. "So good- they feel so good."

Din thrusts his fingers deeper, feeling your warm, wet walls clench around him already, feeling you sucking him in further.

"You're getting wetter," he observes, his voice a low growl, not expecting a response.

"Th-that's ‘cus you're," you pause to huff, "making me feel so much pleasur- ah!" you scream when he presses against your sweet spot and you continue to tell him he's doing a good job. "You can try opening and closing your fingers," you suggest.

He scissors his fingers and unexpectedly wraps his lips around your sensitive bud, sending electric pulses of pleasure coursing through your entire body.

You moan and writhe, lost in the pleasure he’s providing. "Your mouth, Din! Oh, Maker- fuck!" The words tumble from your lips, a symphony of desire, as your body quivers with impending release. "Din!" His name escapes your lips in a sharp, forced breath as you shatter into blissful climax.

In the depths of his mind, Din revels in the satisfaction of making you cum. The only twinge of regret is that he couldn't witness the ecstasy on your face, still occupied with his fingers buried inside you, working with his tongue on your swollen bud. He’s panting and you tell him to come up. Unaware of your plea, he continues his fervent attention, his fingers and tongue working together. You tug at his hair, urging him to rise. When he lets up, he slowly withdraws his digits and relishes the gasp you elicit.

Face to face with you, like a sculptor admiring his masterpiece, he adores the way your hair sticks to your forehead, and your expression is drenched in post-orgasmic bliss.

"Kiss," you command, pulling him closer, lips hungry for him.

He complies, and the moment his lips meet yours, it feels like a burst of lightning goes off in his head. His heart leaps wildly in his chest, and inside your stomach, a flurry of butterflies suddenly and furiously takes flight. A low groan escapes him when your tongues meet.

The air seems to dissipate in his lungs, and reluctantly, he tears his mouth away. Panting, his forehead touches yours as he confesses, "I've never tasted myself before."

"Do you like it?"

"From your lips? Yes," he admits, a shy tone lingering in his voice.

You've decided you like making him blush, so you lean in and whisper into his ear, "Maybe you'll like it even more when you're licking it from my pussy."

A low groan escapes Din, and he pushes you back into the mattress. Catching your mouth, the first kiss you shared had been softer and hesitant, but this one is all-consuming. He pours every pent-up feeling he's harbored for you into the searing kiss. You feel his hard length pressing against your hip, prompting you to break the kiss and spread your legs as far as you can with Din hovering above you.

"Are you ready, baby?" you ask Din, running your fingers along the contours of his face.

Not trusting his words, he nods, his eyes filled with a hunger matching yours.

“We should stay in this position so you can control the movement," you suggest, still feeling the lingering effects of the flower, though now slightly subdued after Din made you cum.

“Are we okay to um…” Din hesitates, not knowing how to initiate the conversation about protection.

“I’ve got an implant, oh, and you can come inside if you want.”

Din looks down at you, a near-helpless expression on his face. You wrap one leg around his waist, and he grips himself in his hand. His breathing hitches as he guides himself to your entrance. You notice some hesitance in his eyes, so you lift your head to kiss his nose and whisper that it's okay.

Din presses his tip inside you and lowers his entire body to yours, careful not to crush you. His mouth seeks yours to muffle the noises he's sure will escape his lips any second now. Ohh, Maker. How does she f-feel this good? Din asks himself, unable to believe that such pleasure exists. Of course, I can only find it in her, he concludes.

Meanwhile, you feel your body temperature rising. He's unbelievably girthy, and you feel all of his veins and ridges as your body molds to his. Din presses his knees on the mattress and thrusts more of himself into you. Your breath is stolen from your lungs when your body works overtime to open up. Din felt you tense and muttered apologies after apologies, but you reassured him that you were okay; it was just taking you a while to fully take him. He stilled and slowly withdrew himself as much as he could. Your body was not letting him go, and he was only giving you less than half of his cock to open you up. When you begged him for more, he complied, and he pushed more of himself faster this time. You spread your legs wider, and when he bottomed out, "Ah! Uhn…Di-Din!" you cried, and your eyes shut closed, overwhelmed.

“Hah– fuck,” Din spat out, hips suddenly stuttering, feeling your soft, velvety walls tightening. No, no, not yet, Din scolds himself. He grits his teeth and stops moving to get himself to calm down.

When he stops pounding you, you close your legs around him, making you tighter.

"B-baby, don't do that," Din chokes.

You open your eyes and see that he's looking at you intently, so you spread your legs apart once more. When they touch the mattress, Din pulls out, leaving just his head in, and quickly thrusts himself back into your pussy.

In response, you squeal and claw at his back. That seems to give him more motivation, and he continues to brutally take you. The room is filled with the sounds of wet squelching noises, moans, grunts, you calling out his name, him calling out yours, and skin slapping skin as his balls repeatedly hit against your cunt.

With the ferocity he's taking you, he sees your breasts bouncing, and he can't resist lowering his head to catch a nipple in his mouth. His hot tongue is flickering over your pearled bud, and you tell him, "Bite- uhn- bite it gently and… and then run your tongue against it.

Din follows your command eagerly. As he ruts his hips against yours with unrestrained fervor, his teeth sink into the tender flesh of your nipple, biting gently before his tongue dances over the aroused bud. The initial pain transforms into a pleasurable sensation, prompting you to wrap both legs around his hips, meeting his wild thrusts. As the crown of his head brushes against the deepest part of you, you can't help but wail.

"Oh!" you moan, feeling your body shudder as the tension in your stomach reaches its peak. Clinging to Din, in a matter of seconds, waves of pleasure cascade through you, and a steady stream of liquid pours out, covering both your thighs, his abdomen, and the bedsheets. Simultaneously, Din cries out your name, his hips losing their rhythm as he feels you clenching around him like a vice. You feel him pulsing, and immediately after, he spills. Rope after rope, he fills you up with his warm seed. His body collapses on top of yours, and for a moment, his vision blacks out. His hands rest next to your head, and he moves his head to mumble incoherent nonsense directly into your ear.

Both of you catch your breath, and you soothingly run your hand up and down Din's back. He responds with tender kisses on your forehead before raising his head.

"Thank you," he pants, his breath still ragged, and quickly adds, "Was that okay for you?"

You laugh lightly. "You made me squirt."

"Oh," he blushes, "It's probably due to the flower."

"Maybe… I mean, it's never happened with someone else and certainly not this much by myself.”

Your mind is still hazy, and you don't hear his response. "I wish you'd cum on my face," you say, not mindful of your words. Then you feel him twitch inside you. You gasp and ask him, "Din, are you still hard?"

He doesn't reply; he just looks down sheepishly at where you and him are connected.

A mischievous smile plays on your lips. "Can we try something?"

He brings his gaze back up and nods. You untangle your legs from him and bring your arms to slowly push him off you.

He gets the message and slowly pulls out of you, causing both of you to groan at the loss. Once he's no longer inside you, you sit up and ask him to get off the bed. Without an explanation, he's confused but does what you ask.

You scoot up to the edge of the bed and then get on all fours in front of him. "I want you to fuck my face."

Din's mouth parts into an 'o' as you take his hardened length into your hand, guiding him between your lips. When you taste yourself on him, you moan, and so does he. He feels heavy against your tongue, and the sounds coming from him are heavenly.

You pull back to tell him, "If you don't like something, let me know." Then, you begin to take him deeper until you reach the thickest part of him.

"You-" he begins but stays quiet. Does he want to say something? you question in your head but go back to moving your head at a steady rhythm. Very lightly, you scrape your teeth carefully to avoid biting him or drawing blood. At the sensation, Din bucks his hips forward, and he whines. Again, he sounds like he wants to talk but decides against it. You want to hear whatever he needs, so reluctantly, you pull back but keep stroking him in your hand.

"¿Por qué no me quieres decir lo que quieres? (Why don't you tell me what you want to say?)" you ask, looking at him through your lashes.

"I-" he groans when you use your thumb to circle the slit at his tip, "'M not good at the dirty talk."

"Say whatever comes to mind. You won't scare me off," you promise, and then envelop him in your mouth once more. To get him more comfortable with showing him you can handle him being rough, you take one of his hands that are awkwardly at his side and bring it to the back of your head. His large hand sprawls like he's holding a small ball, and experimentally he moves your head closer to him, making you move further on his length. He hears you struggle and is about to remove his hand in fear, but you raise your hand to hold his in place. You relax your throat and slightly move your head further, then let your hand drop. Din understands and begins to guide you to take him deeper. Feeling your hot mouth wrapped around him was causing him to spew curse after curse, still not confident enough to say what he so desperately wanted. Take her, Din. Rómpele el cerebro con maldad. She wants you to be rough with her. But if you don't want her, another man would certainly happily take her off your hands and make good use of her mou- and just like that a switch flipped in Din.

"Is this what you want, Cyar'ika?" he asks and then in one go, presses your face into his pelvic area. Thankfully, your throat had already been opened up by the time you silently asked, more like begged, for him to fuck your face so it wasn't too painful to take him down your lower throat suddenly.

"Mhm," you whine, and you do everything you can to stimulate a nod.

"Good, baby," he answers, and in an animalistic pace, he thrusts his hips over and over. Your eyes water, but you love it. You love the way he looks blissed out, with his eyebrows lifting every time his cockhead touches the back of your throat. You love the way he’s letting go, and you love that you’re the first person to see him like this, and if you play your cards right, the only one.

This time when your nose hits his dark patch of hair, you take an arm to still his movements. Once your hand cups around his waist, you inhale his smell—it's musky and somewhat sweet. The scent intensifies your desire for his cum, so you drop your hand and resume your ministrations.

“Fuck!” he grunts in surprise when you massage one of his balls with your fingers. "Good girl."

He didn't give you any indication he didn't like it, but still, you look up at him and see him already peering down at you. “Shit, you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth," he praises, fueling your moans. The vibrations reverberate through him, and he opens his mouth to tell you, “Your mouth feels fucking fantastic. This is why I was jealous of your stupid candy."

"What?" you muffle into him.

"When you had that bright purple lollipop in your mouth. You-ah-you kept on sucking it, making all of those noises and saying how good it tasted. I kept thinking about having your mouth on me, and it was driving me crazy.”

You giggle, thinking about the ridiculous idea that he was jealous of some sugary treat.

"¿Crees que es chistoso? (Do you think it’s funny?)“ He doesn't take your laughter lightly and harshly snaps his hips against your face. His lips curl into a snarl, and wet sounds along with Din's grunts echo throughout the room. Amidst his brutal pace, his hazy mind thinks, Is she okay? Quickly, he opens his eyes to see if he didn't take it too far, only to see one of your hands in between your thighs, fingers working deep inside of you. It only encourages him to keep slamming his cock, driven by the pleasure coursing through his veins and seeing your oh-so-pretty lips molding him perfectly.

“Oh, fuck, I’m close-“ he warns, releasing the grip he has on your head. You scramble to detach yourself from Din, causing a long string of saliva to form once you pull off him. Your jaw is a bit sore to continue sucking him off, so you resort to taking his base into your hand and angling his dick with his tip pointing upwards. His eyes bore into yours, waiting for your next move.

Instead of your lips wrapping around his dick, they lower to his sack. You suck his left ball, and your hand fondles the other one.

"Fuck, yes," he moans, his eyes fluttering shut. You love that he’s gotten more vocal; it makes the heat between your legs burn hotter. When you alternate your actions, it causes him to whimper out your name in a broken moan. You feel him pulse, and since you don’t want it to be over yet, you kneel in front of him and trail your lips upwards, licking the veins on the underside of his dick. His cockhead is leaking again, and you can’t help but run your tongue there, collecting the liquid that has dripped lower, almost to your fist.

“Chúpale ahí, mami, así, así (Suck it in there, mami, like that, like that),” Din whines, and his words cause you to whine too. You want his cum now, you decide, and one last time, you wrap your lips around his purple tip and run a hand down to his base to play with his balls. You feel him pulse, his stomach tenses, his thighs shake, and “a- uhn!” You close your eyes and stick your tongue out. His hot seed comes out in ropes. It paints your breasts in white iridescent cream, and it hits just below your eye. With your mouth open, some of his cum lands on your tongue. He’s panting and letting out strings of your name along with curses. Once you’re sure you’ve milked him for every last drop, you let your grip off and swallow his spend. Mmm, he tastes salty and like apples, you muse. When you open your eyes, Din’s just finished composing himself. His lashes flutter open, and when he sees you peering up at him, he gives you a smile brighter than the hottest sun.

“Ven aqui (come here),” he beckons, and you rise to his height, throwing your arms around him. He meets your lips for a kiss and quickly scoops you up to carry you. With you in his arms, he walks to his bathroom with the intention of taking a shower. You separate your lips from him to talk.

“So, the mami thing,” you start, and he buts in with a groan. “Escucha pues (listen to me),” you scold.

He playfully rolls his eyes. “I’m all ears,” but then his expression changes. “Wait, did you not like that? I’m so sor-“ You cover his mouth and kiss his nose.

“You’ve really gotta let me finish my sentences, baby,” you say, playing with his sweaty curls around the nape of his neck. “I loved it. I was just wondering if papi was on the table for you.”

“Woman,” he exhales like he’s in pain. “Let’s shower and then go a few more times.” He feels himself grow again and quickly opens the bathroom door.

You grin at his response. “Did you know that shower sex is a thing?”

Extended A/N: In my previous post, I mentioned that this story might be the last one I share before leaving this website. I haven't had the time to finalize my decision yet. I appreciate those who reached out – thank you 🩷. To give you some context, I considered leaving due to some negative interactions I received. I often portray my characters as Spanish speakers, and unfortunately, that has led to some unfavorable responses. However, as I mentioned earlier, I haven't made a final decision yet. Anyhow, thank you for reading, and have a lovely day 🫶🏽!

[sporadicthingcollection]

Smash or Pass: Part 2/4 (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: It's the last stop before the Grand Line and you slink away for a quiet evening. The universe, however, decides to clown on you. Sequel to Kiss, Marry, Kill. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Warnings: Violence, description of injuries. Word Count: ~3.7k.

A/N: Someday I'll figure out the best way to make a tag list on here (if anyone has any experience with that hmu). Hope you enjoy this one~

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PART 2: In which you lend a helping hand, provide clown care, and tell a joke.

Swords clash. Punches fly. Bodies go flying. The band launches into a rousing up number. You admire their dedication until a chair flies past your head. You should get out of here.

You get to the door, but you stop. Where’s Buggy? He was just right there, but there is now occupied by a man with a big hat and a bear club.

More importantly, why do you care? Well, you know why you care. You just went over this. It’s because you’ve got a stupid little crush. You shouldn’t care but you’re so liquored up that you do. This was probably his plan all along—

A guy comes at you with a sword. You duck beneath him, punch him in the dick, and throw him out the door and into the street. No cheap shots in a bar fight. 

And then you see it: a candy cane-striped patch deep in the throng. You skirt the edge of the brawl to get closer to it.

For a drunk guy with no hands, Buggy’s doing pretty well. Kicking, headbutting, body part separating. Cheap shots galore. You suppose it helps that he’s not fighting to win, but to get the hell out of here.

He’s almost at the edge when a mountain of a man hooks him around the neck with a wire of some kind. You expect him to separate his head, but his eyes go wide and he thrashes to no success, scrabbling at the wire.

Oh, that’s bad. Real bad. What do you do? C’mon, girl, think! There’s gotta be a way for you to lend a helping—

Hands! There they are! Smacking into everyone and everything as he tries to recall them. You grab one and then the other. You look around to return them but now there’s a whole scuffle between you and him. Three very large men all whaling on each other. There’s no way you’re getting through that.

“Hey!” you shout. He can’t hear you over the din. “Buggy!”

Still nothing. The pirate pulls tighter. He gasps and struggles.

Somewhere in your brain, you know this is the perfect moment to make a break for it. He’s occupied, won’t see you leave, and can’t follow you back to the ship.

But you can’t leave a man to die just to save your own skin. Especially when the brawl started because he was trying to defend you. C’mon, think of something!

…Oh. Duh.

You take a deep breath. You hold his hands over your head. "Hey, big nose!"

Buggy's head whips towards you as his eyes fly open, burning with white hot rage. It vanishes as he sees your trophies, replaced with awe.

It's a nice look on him.

One hand zips out of your grasp to jab his assailant in the eyes. The other grabs you by the collar.

You shriek as your feet leave the ground, lifting you up and over several dozen brawling sailors. It sets you down gently behind the bar, safe from the throng.

You’ve never flown before. You’re not a fan. But you are grateful, even if he did put you down so far from the exit. “Thanks,” you croak.

The hand shoots you a finger gun. You can practically hear the click of his tongue as the thumb flexes. How’d he hear you over the chaos?

Right next to your ear, a low voice says, “Don’t mention it.”

You scream and throw your elbow back, colliding with something hard. The low voice grunts as you jump away, and you turn to see Buggy clutching his nose.

You grimace. You know how pointy your elbows are. “That’s your own fault, sneaking up on a girl in the middle of a fight.”

He gives you an incredulous glare. “That’s not your line. You’re supposed to say…” He assumes a high-pitched voice. “‘Oh, thanks for the help, Captain Buggy! My hero!’”

You really hope you don’t sound like that. “Go soak your head. I saved you!”

He sneers at you, but he strokes his throat. An ugly ring of bruises will certainly be there later. “I had it under control.” 

“Bullshit!”

“I’m sorry, did you want to be dragged into an alley and used like a two-bit whore—“

A loud crack cuts him off. He blinks, looking more shocked than anything. His eyes roll back, his shoulders slump, and his head lolls forward. The rest of him follows and Captain Buggy, your hero, goes down like a sack of potatoes.

He hits the floor in a big puddle of assorted spirits, making a slap that you can only compare to when a pancake hits the ceiling. It would be funny if...

...actually, it's pretty funny as-is. You wish you were sober enough to commit the sound to memory.

Anyways, a chair in a bar fight really ought to be cheating. Then again, this is a pirate bar. The patrons are pirates. You are pirates. Everyone is pirates. It's pirates all the way down in here.

You catch the chair as it swings at you, and you see your assailant is, in fact, not a pirate. It’s the bar matron, scowling.

“You,” she grumbles. “This is your fault, you know that?”

“I didn’t ask him to help.” You yank the chair from her hands and toss it away. “And I didn’t ask to get felt up.”

Her eyes widen. “Is that what…?” She sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. “Guess I can’t be too surprised about that. The boys have been spoiling to fight all night.” She looks down at Buggy. “Sorry ‘bout your boyfriend.”

Boyfriend. You really hate that you don’t hate the sound of that. But that would eventually make you Mrs the Clown and that you cannot abide by.

You wrinkle your nose. “Not my boyfriend.”

She scoffs. “Man started a brawl for you. It’s only a matter of time.” She kneels down and hooks her arms under his shoulders. “There’s a room upstairs we can stash him in. Grab his legs.”

You do so. On three, you both heave up… and he separates in the middle. The bar matron gasps in horror.

In his maybe-concussed definitely-drunk stupor, Buggy giggles. It’s kind of cute. Not at all menacing the way it’s been before. High-pitched. A bit like a weathervane squeaking in the breeze.

“Pull yourself together, dickhead,” you say. When he doesn’t, you roll your eyes. “Devil Fruit,” you say to the matron. “I’ll be right behind.”

Carrying a pair of legs is far more difficult than you expected. You can’t pick them up bridal style. Dragging them by the ankles is no good, either. You resort to throwing them over your shoulders, one leg on either side of your neck with your hands on his shins. An inelegant solution, but the only one you’ve got.

You’re halfway up the stairs when you feel something twitch against your head. Something hard. Something stiff. Something that seems like it’s pretty thick, based on the weight against your ear.

Your cheeks burst into flames. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about Buggy’s cock. Don’t think about how you were wrong about Buggy having a small cock.

The matron leads you to a small room right under the roof. A bed, a trunk, and a dry sink with a wash basin are the only furniture, but a marvelous view of the harbor from the window makes up for it. If it wasn’t dark, you could probably see the Merry from here.

She tosses her half of Buggy onto the bed. You follow suit. The mattress squeaks as they bounce and, with a pop, the twain meet and he’s a whole man again.

“Devil Fruits,” the matron mutters, shaking her head. She turns to you. “You can stay here ‘til he’s well enough to walk, but I want you gone by morning. Got it?”

You nod, only to grimace. “I, uh, don’t have much money. I don’t think he does, either.”

She waves her hand as she exits. “Just don’t come back and I won’t collect.”

You realize a problem. “Th-There’s only one bed.”

“One of you can sleep on the floor.”

The door closes. You are left alone with the muffled sounds of a brawl, the rhythmic breathing of a mostly unconscious clown, and your own turbulent thoughts.

Again, you are presented with an opportunity to leave. Can’t follow you if he’s out cold. Save your friends. Save your ship. Save yourself.

And again, you hesitate. He drank a lot with you. And you did laugh quite a bit. And dancing with him was like floating — the good kind, not the kind with disembodied hands. And he whacked some guys about to manhandle you. And then he pulled you out of the fight.

How was it he had described you? Back on the Merry, when he read you like a picture book? ‘Once bitten, twice shy, but when he comes around a third time, you just can’t help yourself.’

Boy howdy, do you hate how accurate that is.

Speaking of which, he hasn’t moved since he hit the bed. You pat his cheek. “You alright?”

He stirs slightly. “Mfmn.”

That’s not good. With a sigh, you put on your triage hat. Seeing as how he got bashed on the noggin, might as well start there. "Sit up.”

He mutters something incomprehensible, but doesn't fight you as you guide him into a sitting position against the headboard. It takes a moment to untie his bandanna.

You're expecting sensibly short hair. Or perhaps missed-a-few-trims-touching-his-earlobes medium-ish hair. Maybe even brushing his shoulders in what guys consider long.

But no. What you get is honest-to-god long hair, textured by salt water and adorned with little plaits, flowing out of the bandana and waterfalling down his back. In need of a good brushing, perhaps, but otherwise healthy.

You want to run your nails through it. Twirl a few strands around your finger. Pull a comb through it. Cut a lock to braid into a rope bracelet, the kind sailors give to their sweethearts to remember them by—

You give your head a good shake. Where did that come from? That’s weird. Don’t do that.

Gently, you part his hair to inspect the scalp. A few small cuts, but nothing worth wasting gauze on. A nasty lump, though. That'll for sure hurt in the morning.

Satisfied, you let his hair fall. His face is next, but this literal clown makeup makes it hard to tell what's blood and what's not. Rummaging around in your satchel, you pull out your rubbing alcohol and a gauze pad and dab away.

It doesn’t come off easy — this is definitely the good shit — but you get enough off. Barefaced Buggy isn’t much different than the regular one, just less obfuscated by whacky colors. High cheekbones. Strong, stubbly jaw. Cleft chin. He'd be handsome if it weren't for the nose… or maybe he is anyways? Some cultures like big noses. And you know what they say about guys with big noses—

Nope. No. Knock it off. Gonna behave yourself? Good. Back to work. Where were you again?

Nose. Right. Speaking of which, you're still not convinced it's not real. The intrusive thoughts win this time and you give it a pinch and a pull.

It's real. He gasps and snatches you by the wrist as his eyes pop open, wide and darting around. They’re the color of a calm river on a cloudy day, though the river is rough at the moment. Why does such a repulsive man have such pretty eyes? 

"Easy, easy," you say. "I'm just checking you out— up."

If he heard the slip, he ignores it. After a moment, he drops your hand and lays back with a sigh. "W'happen?"

A few spots of blood stick to your fingers, coming from a small cut down the middle of his nose. You couldn't tell on account of the... well, everything about it. "Someone got you from behind with a chair." You go to dab at the cut. "Knocked you out cold. Smashed your face on the floor and gave you a bloody nose."

The rage returns. He snatches your wrist again. "What about my nose?" he growls, voice raw.

On one hand, you like that husky tone. On the other, this rubbing alcohol is stinging your fingers and you're not going to entertain his insecurities. "You landed right on it. A schnoz that big and it didn't do a damn thing to break your fall."

He does not like that. He squeezes tight enough to hurt and pulls you in closer. The river in his eyes whirls and churns. "You're talking a lot of shit for someone all alone in a room with Buggy the Clown."

Not a single word of excrement has left your mouth. "And you're talking too much shit for someone with a busted nose," you spit. "You want it to get infected? Scar up? It'll look even worse."

It's blunt, but you're right. And you know he knows you're right. He's a fool, but he's not foolish enough to not listen to a professional.

What you don't expect is the way his face drops for a moment. All of the anger, all of the bluster, all of it gone. All that remains is a boy with shocked eyes. Hurt eyes. Vulnerable eyes.

But only for a moment. The walls go back up and the angry man returns, albeit at a simmer and not a boil. He drops your wrist and scowls, avoiding your gaze.

Your stomach sinks. Being snippy is one thing, but you don't like being mean by accident. Even to a jerkoff like him.

With a gentle touch, you take his jaw. "This'll sting," you say as you press the pad to his nose.

He hisses, but doesn't pull away. "How bad is it?"

Now that the blood's gone, not bad at all. "Just a scratch. Won't even need a bandage."

He fixes his gaze somewhere past you. “Shame.”

And you continue to feel bad. It doesn’t look that bad on him. You were right earlier. It does suit him. You discard the pad. “Sorry ‘bout what I said,” you say. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

Buggy he continues to look past you. He waves his hand, only to flinch. He tries to hide it with a scoff.

Your soft eyes don’t miss. “Give it here.”

He huffs and grabs the injured hand with the other, yanking it off at the wrist. He plops it in your own hand and crosses his arms.

You almost laugh. But you hold it back.

You pull his glove off, revealing calloused fingers and shredded nails. When the seas get rough, he works the ropes with everyone else. And he's been at it awhile. 

"You're a career sailor," you say. You're not sure why you're surprised.

“Only trade I know,” he says.

Fingerbones intact, if not a little bruised at the knuckles. "Piracy pay that well?”

He gives a bitter smile. “You’d be surprised what you make in tips.”

Maybe you’re just drunk or maybe that was actually kinda funny. Regardless, a laugh almost manages to escape this time. Almost. You catch it in time for it to turn into a weird snorting sound.

The bitterness evaporates like mist in the morning sun as he finally turns his gaze on you. His smile brightens his whole face, scrunching the rivers of his eyes into little oxbow lakes.

Yep. He’s handsome. That little crush burns in your chest.

You swallow some infatuation-flavored bile. "Take your shirt off," you say. "Wanna— Wanna check your ribs."

He regards you for a moment. Wordlessly, he pulls his scarf from his neck and tosses it to the floor. Next goes the sash-belt thing. Finally, he shrugs out of the vest.

You're not sure what you're expecting. A sea of scars, perhaps? The mottled, diseased skin of a syphilitic sailor? A gaping void where his heart ought to be?

No. What you get is an expanse of smooth skin, dipping and rising with mountains and valleys of lean muscles. Hair covers his pectorals, thickest on his sternum. A soft belly pushes against his waistband as he breathes — not a gut by any means, but a logical consequence of indulging one's every desire. A thin trail of fuzz leads down below his trousers, growing thicker as it dips below. The carpet matches the drapes, apparently...

Your cheeks heat up. Don't even think about it, girl. Just check him out and be on your way— up. Check him up.

"Does it hurt anywhere?" you ask. You trail your fingers down his ribs, gently poking and prodding.

"Not particularly." Pressing the side of his pec makes him hiss. “Alright, maybe there.”

You lift his arm — his hard, wiry arm — and lean in close. A bit of a bruise is blooming, but it doesn’t look too serious. What is serious is how distracting the smell of fresh sweat is.

His sweat. On his skin. Glistening. Like dew. Musky. Tangy. Tasty.

He says something and it doesn’t even register. The thoughts drown him out. Do it, they say. Stick your face in there.

A light poke to your cheek yanks you out of your… whatever the hell that was. You turn to see his hand hovering. Its fingers wiggle in a wave. “Hello? Anyone aboard?”

You shake your head hard enough that you can feel your brain bouncing around. “Sorry. Thinking about contusions.”

“Should I be worried or not?”

You press your thumb into the bruise. “Does it hurt to breathe?”

He squeaks like a mouse. “When you’re doing that, yeah!”

The sound of pain is a big turn-off for you, which is exactly what you need right now. You jam your finger against the bruise one more time just to hear him yelp. “You’re fine.”

You drop his arm. You try to move away as quickly as possible while still looking casual and not tripping over yourself. You fail and land on your ass. Not hard enough to hurt, but an uff escapes you all the same.

Buggy giggles, peering down at you. “I love a good pratfall.”

He looks good from this angle. Above you. That worries you. “You’re completely fine. Worst thing you’ll have in the morning is a lump and a hangover.”

His brow wrinkles. “Not gonna check out my legs?”

Oh, you’ve already spent plenty of time checking out his legs. Nice boots. Muscular thighs. Trying to figure out if the bulge in the crotch was fabric or something else.

You grab the edge of the bed and haul yourself up onto it. “Do they hurt?”

“Sister, all of me hurts.”

You sigh. “Bring your knees to your chest. First one, then the other.”

His left knee joint pops out from its rightful spot on his leg. He presses it to his chest, then repeats the action with the other. He looks at you expectantly. “Now what?”

A banged-up half-naked clown, sitting on a bed, holding his knees in his hands. The situation is amusing enough, but something in his expression, the tone of his voice… it breaks you.

You slide from the bed back onto the floor as loud, cackling peals burst forth like floodwaters through a dam.

It feels good to laugh so hard. It hurts your ribs, your stomach, and your cheeks, but it's a good hurt.

The fit subsides, leaving you flopped on your back, arm slung over your eyes, trying to catch your breath. A few giggles bubble forth, and you do your best to swallow them.

You fling your arm from your eyes to see Buggy gazing down at you, resting his head on his arm, eyes scrunched up. “Didn’t think that one would get you."

“Shut up.” You climb up to your knees. “And stop making me laugh.”

“But you’re so cute when you laugh.”

You snort. “You tried that one earlier.”

Buggy frowns. Deeply. He moves his head to his fist, leaving his gaze level with your own. “But I meant it.”

“You’re full of bird shit.”

You try to move away, but he grabs your arm and guides you back down. He stares right into your eyes, straight into your soul. “I meant it,” he says firmly.

For a moment, you believe him. Your voice of self-doubt is silenced. The voice of what an unladylike laugh. No man could ever find that attractive. How do you expect to get a husband sounding like that?

His voice disturbs your ruminating. "Y’know, if you join my crew," he says, "you can laugh like that all you want. As loud as you want. Whenever you want."

It's probably the alcohol. It's probably because he's half naked. It's probably because you're a weak woman. Whatever the reason may be, to your horror, you do consider it.

It could be a good time. You enjoy his company. You enjoy laughing. You enjoy adventures and making mischief and romance. Both the kind with the wind in your sails and the kind with a man in your arms.

Perhaps even this man.

But you can't. You know you can't. He’s cruel. He’s crazy. You couldn't live with yourself if you betrayed your friends. Not to mention that there'd be no escape if it all went wrong.

In your moment of weakness, he slips a finger under your chin. Millimeter by millimeter, he guides you closer. His eyes drift shut as his nose bumps yours.

Don’t do this, your good sense screams. You’re drunk. He’s drunk. Stop thinking with your snatch. Don’t—

The slightest bit of nerves quiver in his voice. “Something wrong…?”

Everything. “Nothing.”

You push forward and finally, finally, your lips meet his.

It’s nothing like your previous kisses, sudden and sloppy. This one is slow. Measured. Gently crackling like the soft flame of a low fire, radiating warmth.

A featherlight moan escapes him as you pull away. His eyes search your face, bracing himself, waiting for something, hoping in vain that he won't find it.

You lay a hand on his jaw, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. “What is it?”

His gaze drifts to the side as he inhales sharply. “Waiting for the punchline.” He swallows. “No way something this good could happen to me.”

This poor, pathetic man after your own heart. “I got a punchline for you. What did the sawbones say to the clown?”

Shining eyes peer at you. “I dunno. What did the sawbones say to the clown?”

“She said...” You lean in close. “‘Kiss me again.’”

Those eyes go wide.

---

Part the 3rd goes up Thursday!

⬅⬅⬅ | To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar | ➡➡➡

[grippingbeskar]

unearthed

chapter eight - tested

warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of death, a few heated moments, swearing

a/n: let’s ride let’s ride. sorry for last chapter, i’m trying to build tension as best i can. but, alas, a lady can only be edged so much, so. enjoy this lil hint at what’s to come. also a few people have messaged me, YES WE ARE GOING TO FUCK MANDO OKAY look who you’re talking to. but my God You heathens 🤺 GET BACK 🤺 we must first have our plot before we have our spice. WE MUST 🤺 just trust me okay. i love y’all. I WILL NOT LET YOU STARVE. lots of smut planned for this fic hehehehehehehehehe.

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This planet didn’t even have a name in the system it was crammed in. Just a bunch of numbers based on its jumbled coordinates. That’s how abandoned it was. As soon as you stepped out of the Crests hull, there was just… nothing. As far as you could squint and see, there was just broken-down ships and old junkyards covered in dust. Your arm covers the bright suns from your eyes, and you hear Dins’ heavy steps coming up behind you.

The holo-pad beeping in your hand is the perfect distraction from the quiet that settles between the two of you. You don’t look up when he comes next to you, grinding your teeth to stop from saying something stupid.

“Lead the way.” He says cooly, tucking the baby into his pod and pressing it closed before shutting Grogu safely into the Razor Crest.

“We’re leaving him here?” You ask, still squinting into the horizon. Din nods.

“A planet like this isn’t safe for him.” You feel his eyes on you, then his helmet tilts further to the holo-pad in your hands. “And the location isn’t too far out. We made good time.”

“Thanks to my flying?” You try, the tension following the two of you out of the Crest and hovering in the planet’s heated atmosphere. To your relief, he puffs out a breath a bit quicker than normal— he laughed. Thank the stars.

“Sure.” You smile at his reply, and then look away quickly back to the blinking holo-pad. He was right— it wasn’t too far away, maybe a twenty minute walk from where you’d landed. You’d have to leave the ship behind because the planets surface was too full of debris to land any closer, and it looked like there’d be a bit of climbing to do.

“It says it’s up three elevations. Look.” You hand him the pad, full of grids and flashing numbers displaying the exact coordinates, including levels above and below sea level. According to the increasingly annoying beeping, the closer you got, the higher the droids you were tracking.

Din nods, and continues to follow the blinking in silence. You swallow hard, and will yourself to keep up a steady front, not willing to let a little awkward moment phase your entire trip. You were doing something good— tracking this tech could lead you to your parents killers, and in turn prevent another attack on Mandalore, or your own planet. You needed focus, which is exactly what you didn’t have when you were fucking around and letting Dins hands wander your skin like a kid at a candy store.

It was just… a nice feeling. For a second there, you thought he might have enjoyed it, too. It had been longer than you were willing to admit since someone had touched you like…that. Your body practically sung to him the second he laid a finger on you. He made you feel things that no one, not even ex-partners, had made you feel. He was exciting. Exhilarating. He was the thing you shouldn’t have, but at the same time the thing you wanted the most. It would only complicate things to get… involved with someone like him, especially considering your unique situation.

But then again, it would make perfect sense. You were married to the man. What’s a few stolen touches between business partners, when you were also one day expected to have the man’s children?

As soon as the thought popped into your mind, Din froze, and you had the ridiculous thought that he might be reading your mind.

“It’s says the dump site is up there.” Din gestures to the towering form of a broken down cruiser.

This entire planet seems full of broken parts. Half ships, piles of service droids and random parts litter the ashy red surface, ruble expanding far out along the horizon. There were few planets like this anymore, but with the catastrophic consequences of the Clone Wars, all those remains had to end up somewhere. The Empire stashed them on uninhabited planets until they could figure out what to do with them, but when the New Republic took over, they had bigger fish to fry.

Therefore, now there were ‘junket’ planets, and if you could navigate to them, it was a free-for-all for parts.

You stand in front of what would have been a control cruiser— something used to deploy large squadrons of battle droids, maybe even move AT’s around back in the day. It was massive, even if it was in half. It looked like it had been dumped right on its nose, the giant expanse of it stretching up into the frosted clouds, making you squint again.

Your heart sinks a little at the thought. The entire ship was full of tiny piles of droids and broken down mechanics… and your fathers life work was just lumped in here. Like it meant nothing. All his free time was spend pulling apart these droids and learning them inside out, and now they were just a drop in the ocean of fading memories.

“We’ll have to fly up.” He says, and you laugh until you see him ready the jet pack on his back.

“You can’t be serious.” You dead pan, but he’s better at it. “We can’t just…”

“You see a ladder around here?” You stare back up at the massive cruiser— even if there was a manual way up, it’s a hell of a climb. This thing was huge. “If you don’t want to, I can go myself—“

“No. I want to.” You cut in. He takes a step towards you, and even though you burn with the earlier rejection, you don't move away.

He says nothing, but when he wraps his solid arm around you, he doesn’t need to.

He pulls you close— so close that every part of you presses and aches against him. Instead of looking where he’s supposed to be taking you, the black visor tilts down, and he looks just at you. You think about what he would be like under there. If his eyes would be on yours, or if they’d look lower, to where your skin touches his armour. He must like that, the way you look against him. You… you hope he doesn’t mind it.

“Hold on.” He says lowly, and you ever so slowly wrap your arms around his neck. He dips down to let you reach, and as soon as you have a grip, he takes off.

Your feet leave the ground and suddenly you’re flying— like, really flying, drifting higher and higher along the ruins of the transporter ship. You try not to squeak and fail when he picks up speed and turns slightly, your legs wrapping around him and head burying into his neck. You weren’t afraid— but shit, this was higher than it looked.

“It’s okay.” He soothes, and your head shakes from its sealed position. “Hey, look up.”

“No!” You scream almost in his ear, and he laughs.

“It’s okay… do you trust me?” He asks it so smoothly, as if he wasn’t holding you a hundred meters in the air on nothing but a jet back the size of a baby. But— you do. You do trust him.

So, you look.

By the time you open your eyes, he’s slowing down, dropping the two of you onto a jagged platform that looks like an old control room. In the broken centre, there are several piles of droids stacked and discarded, some still in their full form, others pulled apart. It was clear you weren’t the first ones here.

Din doesn’t let go of you right away. His arm remains tightly wrapped behind the small of your back, and he takes three or four steps away from the edge to pull you further into the wreckage. You can feel every step, every twist of his muscles against you, and your eyes finally look back up to him, watching as he inhales deeply. You feel it too, how hard his chest is against yours, almost like he’s taking you in to his lungs.

Then he quickly lets go, stepping back away from you.

The holo pad beeps wildy, a sound you hadn’t picked up on when Din had been holding you. You manage to look at it, seeing the bright red dots point you somewhere deeper into the cavern of ruins. Din looks at you, then down the darkened hallway, and clearly makes a decision as he takes a few calculated steps in the right direction. You follow close behind, but when you go to reach down into the pile and investigate, a gloved hand catches yours.

“Careful.” He says, and guides your hand back to your side. “There’s all kinds of junk in here. I’ll do it.”

Speechless, you just nod, and watch as he digs with none of the care he guided your hands with. It’s embarrassing how mesmerised you get watching him do just about anything, but you also feel a twinge of guilt at the earlier events.

Who did he think he was, leading you on with that fake ‘pilot lesson’, letting you get all close and personal only to pull away when you made a move? It wasn’t even a move, really. You’d just— grabbed him.

Okay, yeah, maybe it was a move.

But he’d started it. With those longing stares, poetic words and fucking hands— the same hands now yanking on the end of a familiar looking droid. Very familiar.

“Oh, shit. That’s— that’s it!” You say, your eyes wide as the Mandalorian pulls free a dull silver battle droid with red crosses over where it’s ‘eyes’ would be. “That’s the lazer one!”

Din promptly dropped it, angling it’s face away from you and toward him.

You feel your heart soar. A real lead— a tangible piece of your fathers history, however crushed and mangled it was, is really here. You were on the right track. You were on a track! You couldn’t help but sprint faster, mind already firing at a mile a minute.

“Okay— so we’re here. It’s here. Now what?” You say, bending down to look closer at the lifeless droid. It was bent out of shape now, clearly moved with zero care when it was taken from your planet. Or maybe in a rush. “You know anything about the rest of this stuff? Who would have dropped it here?”

Din carefully walks around the edge of the wreckage, keeping his back to you as he examines the rest of the stuff. To your knowledge, it’s all from the years just before the fall of the Empire. A lot of it is unfinished, made in a rush, and he’s right— it would all be extremely temperamental. Your dad used to keep it well away from the main part of the castle, knowing how fast it could turn into a mess.

Just like it did.

“Look at this.” He calls you over, still keeping his back to you and eyes over the top of the wreck. He’s standing a little too close to the edge for your liking, so you take to standing behind him, attempting to peak over his shoulder.

“It’s… a tank.” You say, looking up at him, slightly confused why this would be a noteworthy discovery. There’s crashed ships and tanks all over this planet. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“Look behind it. A clear line, nothing for miles. The entire planet is covered in junk— but it’s clear behind it. Enough room for it to turn around and back out.” You… hadn’t put that together, actually. He’s right again. The tank is pretty big, but there’s tracks in the sand, and you can only see them because, conveniently, nothing is in its path. It’s moved. Recently. “They’ve been using it to haul their loot in and out.”

“Who’s they?” Din looks back at you, and you hadn’t realised how close you’d gotten to him. It always seemed to happen like that— an unconscious magnetic force drawing you closer to him when you needed to feel safe. You step back, now that you think about it.

“Those used to be Imperial Assault hover tanks. Before your time.”

“You are not old enough to say ‘before my time’.” He laughs, and you feel drawn closer.

“It looks like the back of them have been cleaned out for storage. The hollow dip at the back—“ He points, shuffling back so your eye-line is in line with his hand. You were tracking him anyways. “None of that would be open. It’s all closed in, full of weapons or extra troopers. They needed at least three to drive the thing— now, it’d only fit the commander. The driver. The only people who know those tanks well enough to cut out the wiring and hollow them out would be—“

“Yeah.” You breathe out. Of course the Empire was involved, but this looked like a far bigger operation than just your fathers old projects. “So, we know the Empire, or a smaller force of what used to be them, is gathering old, experimental technology and tossing it on an abandoned planet. But, we don’t know who’s running that operation, or why.”

Din wraps his arm around your back and pulls you to him again, knocking the wind out of you. Before you can say anything, process the tightness of his body against yours, your feet leave the panel and you’re airborne again.

“Shit—“ You nearly shout, words muffled into the crook of Dins neck, and you feel him laugh as you bury your face further into the warmth of him. He doesn’t take off particularly fast, and you are pretty sure he’s flying you back down at half the pace he took you up, but your stomach still drops, and your arms pull his head so close your surprised he can see where he’s going. “Warning next time, please.”

“It’s better this way.” He says, the smile in his voice trilling through you, the slow descent nearing a close. As much as you aren’t a fan of flying in the air like this, having him this close is something you’d sacrifice pretty much anything for. “Stop thinking about it.”

“The jetpack is tiny. I don’t know how it holds you up, let alone me.” His other arm wraps around you now, fingers splayed along your ribcage, pressing hard against your skin.

“It’s okay. You’re fine. I promise.” It’s strange, how his words manage to calm you so easily, even with the tension between you.

Before you know it, there’s sand under your feet, and Din is stepping away again.

“We’ll move the ship up, find a place to stake out here for the night. The tracks were fresh, so they probably make regular rounds. If we stay hidden, we should have them by the time the sun rises.” Your eyes widen.

“Have them?”

“You’ll stay on the ship, and I’ll bring them in.” You roll your eyes, walking behind him as you both head back towards the ship. “We need to be quiet, in and out before the notice us. I’ll pick someone off for questioning.”

“I’m not helpless. I can come with you.”

“I didn’t say you were. But you’re staying in the ship anyways.” He slows his pace so you can catch up, his large frame brushing against your arm with every step. “If I need a quick exit, I’ll call you. You’ll have to fly to me.”

You burst out in a short, truncated laugh. You. Fly the Razor Crest. Unattended. In an emergency situation.

“That is hilarious. When they said Mandalorians’ don’t joke, Your voice flattens, and he… wait. He isn’t kidding. “Din. You’re joking, right?”

He laughs when you shove him, still staring straight out towards the horizon. This feels better— this is… better.

You berate him all the way back to the ship, and he keeps laughing.

She was ethereal, almost. Din had seen a thousand skies, watched a million suns set on planets that never etched into his mind— but this was memorable. He would remember this until the end of his days.

You, face nearly pressed to the cold glass of the Crest, watching in wonder as the fourteen suns all set in a simultaneous, almost domino effect behind the horizon. Din admitted it was a sight to watch, but if he were anywhere else, if he were with anyone else who didn’t capture his attention so fully like you did, he doubted he would have noticed.

You haven’t turned back to him in a while. Not since you walked quietly through the hatch, settling yourself pointedly into the co pilots chair. He doesn’t know why you doubt your ability— he hardly had to help you fly through one of the most complicated asteroid belts in the galaxy. You could fly to him with your eyes closed.

He trusts you.

He finds himself waiting for it. Waiting for you to turn back around, focus your steeled eyes on him and smile or make fun of him. He hangs on every word— only managing to hide the way you wrap him in conversation because he was hidden from you. He nearly wishes he wasn’t— that he was more transparent. Maybe then he wouldn’t send so many of the wrong signals.

The truth was he wanted you. He let some other part of him take over during the flight here— spending so much time caring for you, locked away in closed rooms, watching you take slow, shallow breaths, unsure if you’d wake up or not. It did something to him. And then, your hand in his, driving his ship through open space… there was something old and nearly primal in that feeling in his chest. That all of the rest of this was his— and that you could be.

If you could see his face, you’d know.

Instead, you looked crushed when he pulled away. He knew what you’d said before— that you wanted this to be business. You probably had someone waiting for you back home, someone kind and warm, someone who could share moments like this morning with you and not have to pull away. Someone who could kiss you when they wanted, show you how bad they needed you whenever they wanted.

Most of all, someone else could have you tied to them in a way you chose— not by some contract.

Still, it always comes back to your eyes. That look you got, how disappointed you were when he pulled away. It gave him a horrible feeling in his gut, but also hope. There was a spark there, and he couldn’t stifle it any longer.

If you gave him the chance, he was going to let it burn him to the ground.

“Hey.” Din calls to you, voice as soft as melted butter. “We should get set up. It’ll be a long night.”

Your eyes draw away from the fading blasts of orange across the sky, settling on his ink black visor. Sometimes, if he stood in direct sunlight like right now, and he looked up just a little, you swore you could see his eyes. Maybe just an outline, but there was something under there. Maybe it was bad to try and look, but you couldn’t help it. There was a flutter of eyelashes, a glint of the whites of his eyes. One time you think he was smiling, because you swore the hardly-there outline crinkled together.

You, instead of sharing any of these findings, just nod and follow him. When he turns, the light goes with him, and it’s nearly pitch black in the locked down Crest. The baby is hidden away, tucked tightly into his crib after a long day of wandering around and stuffing his face, and now that the Crest is hidden behind a large pile of garbage, it gives you the perfect vantage point on the tank. If it so much as creaks, you and Din will have eyes on it.

When the two of you go back upstairs to the cockpit, Din locks the doors behind you.

“So, who’s taking the first shift?” You hang your legs over the armrest and lean your back against the other side of the chair. “I vote me. I think I’ve slept more in the past two days than I have since I was coronated.”

“We both should stay awake. You watch the south.” He nods to the far side of where the Crest is parked. It’s dark, and you have to lean forward to make out the shapes. If anything moves, hopefully the calm of the sandy surface will be disturbed and make it obvious. “Okay?”

“Sounds good.” You reply, and shift in your seat. For the first time since you’ve met him, the silence is somewhat unpleasant. What happened only a few hours before— that short but intense moment of… intimacy? Something like that. Whatever it was, it still hangs in the air, draping heavily over your shoulders making you want to sink into the floor.

The hum of the ship ceases, and holy stars— it’s so silent. He was quiet by design, by trade, but you were used to filling the gaps. Finding topics that even the advisors and rulers you were least interested in could chat about, but filling this silence right now with Din? You have nothing. Nothing. Maybe you should of taken those talking points Correll offered you before you left—

Being honest with yourself, you could have all the talking points in the world and you’d still only want to ask him one thing.

“Can I ask you a question?” You blurt out, and he turns to you slowly, nodding and then return to watching his side of the planet. “What was that? This morning?”

“What was… what.” His voice is so calculated and calm. It’s… fuck, it’s hot. You shouldn’t think about it at all— but you analysed every word out of his mouth.

“That whole thing. Was that— I know we’ve been stuck together for while, and maybe we’re getting stir crazy or whatever. Was it just a… blip?”

“A blip?”

“Yeah. Like— when you lock two people in a storage closet, somethings bound to happen if they’re stuck there long enough.” Your heart was in your throat, and this was probably the most uncomfortable moment you’ve had in your entire life. Ever. “I know a lot has happened in the past few weeks, and you saved my life, and we’re on this really important trip right now— it’s a lot. I just… I’ve never been good at leaving things how they are—“

“I can tell.”

“And I don’t want anything uncomfortable between us. We’re partners. Good ones. I don’t want to mess that up.” He’s now staring at you, the steady rise and fall of the beskar across his chest giving you nothing. You finally manage to stop rambling when you watch his hands tighten around the armrests. The leather strains under the pull.

“You were uncomfortable?” Your eyes go wide, and a scoff-like laugh bubbles out before you can stop it.

“No. Stars, no, I wasn’t saying that—“ Okay, you tell yourself. Dial it back. “I just know that you are… you know, you. And you don’t want— that. And we’re married, but we aren’t. Married. Really. Plus the whole ‘only business!’ thing we— I said. Well, I said it, but you— you kind of agreed but then there was the whole ‘oh, let me teach you to fly’ as if that wasn’t some kind of move—“

“Hey. It’s okay.” He manages to get in between your insufferable rambling. You were clambering to try and get a lid on your fucking mouth but all it took was three words from him and your mind went blank. Fuzzy, even. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“What? No. I’m not—“ You swallow hard. Twelve years of training as a Queen, and you’re fumbling the minute he looks at you different. Fucking perfect. “You’re just… a lot to handle right now. And it’s late and I’m confused and a little terrified that I’m actually going to have to fly this ship without guidance and crash, stranding us on an abandoned planet no one knows about.”

You look back out to the completely silent planet, and suddenly have the urge to stand up. You get as close to the glass as possible, no longer able to bear the thought of looking at him.

“What are you trying to say?” He tries, the modulator making you shiver at the low, rough tone.

“I’m saying you’re hard to read. I thought I had it down, had you figured out but it’s… more confusing than I thought.” Words are less rambled— you’re more put together when you aren’t staring at him. Yeah, he definitely makes your brain fuzzy.

“I think you have me figured out.” Dins’ boots are loud as they take two steps, telling you he’s stood up. The cockpit is small, and two more will mean he’d be right behind you.

You keep staring out at the desolate planet, ignoring his looming figure over your shoulder.

You laugh dryly at his comment. “You think?”

“I do.” Your eyes shut for a moment, eyelashes fluttering.

“How do you figure that?” You’re out of breath, tired from everything that’s happened today and your rambling outburst, but then he does something that wakes up everything in your body.

You feel his hand, just the tips of his gloved fingers, graze along the back of your forearm.

“You read right through me. I wouldn’t let just anyone bang up my ship like that.” You let out a soft laugh.

“That’s your move, huh? Nearly killing us in the middle of nowhere?” The ship is so quiet, his soft little ‘mhmm’ nearly lost in the still cockpit. It’s gotten darker, too. The suns fully settled for the night on the opposite side of the planet, shrouding the ship so dark that you can only see the outlines of the little red and green buttons on the control pads. “I guess it worked.”

“Did it?” His fingers on your forearm get bolder, leaving goosebumps where they drift a little higher. “Because it seems like I’ve only made you more confused.”

“We can’t— you said it yourself. This… we can’t afford to be distracted.” Your words are hard, but your tone is so, so unconvincing.

“You’re right.” You go to spin around, but his hand wraps around your arm. You’re so shocked by the move that you freeze. “I said that.”

“Yeah…” The air in your lungs evaporates when his hand loosens and travels higher. His fingers trail up past your shoulder, slowly tracing your outline until he brushes past your collarbone.

“This is a business transaction. We signed a contract.” You nod, and he hooks his fingers into the few locks of hair that hang over your face, tucking them behind your ear. “You said you wanted nothing but that.”

“I…did.” Your eyes flutter shut, and you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears. He brushes past your ear and down, letting it drift through the strands and down the back of your neck.

“Why?”

“It’s better if it’s not— complicated.”

“Yeah?” His voice is impossible to ignore, all soft and pillowy like a velvet blanket. You clear your throat, and he steps just a little bit closer. You’re warm all over, feeling him so close. “Is that what you want now?”

“I…”

“Is it what you want?” His hand is still on you, warm through the layer of leather and your clothes— his clothes. “Or have you changed your mind?”

You suck in a sharp breath when you feel his cold helmet against your shoulder, telling you he’s leant down even further. You try your hardest to keep and eye on your post, but the blackened desert is an impossible target compared to what’s behind you. He lets the edge of his helmet drag lightly over your shoulder, like he’s leaving the kiss of metal in place of his mouth.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” You can hear his smile. “You don’t want that anymore?”

“No. I want— complicated.” All in one breath, you blur the lines of your carefully set relationship. Although, the only one who was drawing that line was you.

Your planet. Your rule. That was what was most important to you. It had to be. Out here, all this open space and chasing leads would come to an end, and all this simplicity would stay out here, between the stars. You didn’t have a choice but to shut yourself to the warmth creeping up your back, the soft hand brushing your cheek. You… you had to draw that line.

But a toe across it wouldn’t hurt, right?

A small, tiny step over that stupid line in the sand. Blurring it for a night. That couldn’t hurt anyone. In fact, it might be more painful to turn him away right now.

“Turn around.” He orders softly, and your eyes leave your post as you spin slowly to face him. You tilt your chin up, feeling his fingers catch on your jaw. He lets them slip along the soft skin, as if he’s exploring a part of you he’s never seen before. You wondered how he’d look at the rest of you— if this divine curiosity would follow him all over you. “There you are, cyar’ika.”

It sounds beautiful, whatever that word is, rolling off his tongue in that signature purr he does so well. You smile, letting your lashes flutter under the attention. He lets out a long breath, one that would kiss your cheeks and warm your face if he let it. You have no idea what he has planned for you, but you lean up on your toes and let him do it.

“As pretty as your eyes are, I want you to close them.” You do it so fast it makes him laugh, a soft, nearly gentle sound that breaks the quiet of the ship. “You take orders well— where was that eagerness before?”

“I’m more interested in this.” You say and pout, keeping your eyes shut tightly. He hums, and then moves away.

“Stay like that.” He says, but it sounds… different. Maybe he’s walked too far, but it was almost like his voice was lighter. Not backed with the same kind of cooling confidence he naturally exuded.

Something fell on the ground near you, and you flinched.

“Keep your eyes closed.” He says again, and something else drops. It falls softly, like a piece of material hitting the hull.

“They are closed.” You huff, impatient and a little nervous. What the hell was he doing…

“Good. Keep them like that.” He teases. Your heart manages to calm its rapid beating for a second or two until you hear the unmistakable hiss of a seal being opened.

Leather pulls under the weight of the helmet as he places it down on the chair.

You didn’t have to open your eyes. You could tell— the weight of it, the hiss and sound of his hands against the beskar. You knew he was now standing in front of you, while his helmet was on the pilots seat.

You didn’t so much as breathe.

“I was… I was going to do this on—“ He stutters, thinking for a second. “before. But I think I like you better like this.”

“Sweaty and in the dark?” His soft laugh is unobstructed, and it’s one of your new favourite things.

“The best things for a Mandalorian happen in the dark, cyar’ika.” You’re pretty sure you gasp at the double edged words, your heart skipping several and all too important beats.

“Oh?” You hear him take another step, and your back arches on instinct. “And… what are those things?”

“Let me show you one of them.” You sigh at the sound of his voice. It’s him, but smoother. Warmer. It feels like a gentle brush of warm wind, curving over your chest and settling deep inside of you. When he speaks to you, he only uses the softest murmur, and it makes you weak in the knees.

Then, your face floods with heat as two bare hands take your cheeks in their palms.

His hands were rough. Even through the gloves, you have no doubt they are worn on every day from the relentless hard labour he puts in. The gloves would be more for covering reasons than protection— you think it would actually be easier for him to pull a trigger without them. Maker knows you’ve spent enough time staring at his hands to know their details— every stitch and cross is known to you, but it’s nothing compared to the real thing.

They’re big, too. They match the rest of him, the tips of his fingers gently nudging your hairline as his thumbs drag softly along your slightly agape lower lip. You have no doubt you gasped or sighed when he put his hands on you, but you couldn’t help it. It felt good— better than it should. Just having his hands on you, flesh on flesh, was exhilarating in a whole new way. Feeling him like no one else had… or at least you think no one else had.

It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered when he touched you. Then, he leant closer, and all hope was lost.

“Is this okay?” He asks, voice hardly above a whisper. His face is so close that his nose bumps against yours, a move that makes you giggle in surprise. You nod rapidly, trying not to wriggle too much and give the impressing that you want him to let go. It’s the last thing you want.

He sucks in a breath, going to say something else, but he must decide against it. Because he leans in then, and your mind fizzles to nothing but the Mandalorian, and the soft, sweet kiss he presses to your lips.

Everything moves in slow motion. The gentle move of his hands threading through your hair, the way he presses just slightly closer, giving you a little more pressure in the kiss. The way he smiles against you when you make a small noise. Everything swirls and flips in your stomach, it’s as if someone has set off a real firework in your stomach.

You take a step in, pressing your body to his. You feel him hard everywhere else— beskar lined along you, and the feeling is comfortable now that his lips are soft and warm and against yours. A reminder of flesh under the steel. You don’t move your hands to his face, afraid to see him that way, and instead settle them on his waist.

You tug on him, his hips stumbling forward after a clumsy step, and then collide with yours. He pulls away for a moment and you nearly whine.

“Din—“

“Mm?”

“Don’t fucking stop now.” You pull him again, and you feel him smile against your mouth.

He takes another step, pressing you between him at the side of the ship as he kisses you again, harder. He’s not as soft— still sweet and gentle but a little more desperate now, the show of hunger making you return it in earnest. He tastes good, so much better than the depths of your imagination could of thought up.

He hooks his hands under your thighs, the small squeak you make muffled into his mouth when you’re suddenly hauled upwards and your legs lock around his waist. It eases the ache in your chest, the closer confines of how he holds you. One arm stays underneath you, effortlessly keeping you suspended while the other holds the back of your neck. He keeps you sealed to him, tongue dancing with your own, and a small groan escapes him at the feeling, sounding low and nearly distant.

You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe— he was dissipating the rest of the world from you with nothing but warm bare hands and a talented mouth. You fist your hands in his hair and pull a little, not missing the way the soft strands curl around your fingers. You committed every small part he gave you to memory. His hand somehow felt bigger than they looked, and his hair was… long. And soft. Unfairly soft. You tug on it again, and he smiles a little and nips at your bottom lip.

“Don’t be cruel, cyar’ika.” His mouth trails away, leaving warm, wet kisses along your jaw, teeth trailing behind in a soft drag. For someone with their head in a tin can, he certainly knows what to do with his mouth.

“M’not. Y-you…” Breathless, you listen to him chuckle at the state he’s rendered you to. “You have nice hair. Long. Good to pull.”

“Mm. Really…” Mumbled against your neck, you shiver at the playful tone now drifting warmly over your neck.

You manage a small “Yeah. It’s pretty.”

“You can’t see it.” His nose drags up higher, and as he shifts, the hardness of his armour moves between your legs. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter.

“Shut up, smart-ass.” You grumble and he laughs, but obliges you. It’s slow again, and he licks into your mouth like he’s never tasted something so sweet in his life. He lets out an uninhibited groan, forehead pressing heavily into yours. He moves the arm underneath you, grinding your hips against his armour again, and your eyes roll back underneath your eyelids. “Fuck, Din.”

“You like that, don’t you?” He covers your mouth with his again so you lose your answer. “Sh—shit You’re so soft against me. So perfect.”

You nod as his teeth tug on your lips. “Yeah— yes. Not… not enough, though—“

“I know, I know cyar’ika. Let me—“ He cuts himself off, and with your eyes shut you have no idea what’s happened. It isn’t until he groans and swears under his breath that you know it isn’t good.

“Din?”

“They’re here.” Your back nearly misses the cool press of the side of the ship when Din pulls you off it, taking two or three steps backwards. You yelp in surprise, clinging to him for only a second, and then he leans down and you’re sat in a chair. “Stay.”

“Din—“ You go to stand but he’s too bulky in front of you, pressing a hand to your shoulder, and then he leans forward and kisses you on the forehead.

It’s so stupidly simple, but your heart flutters into a million little butterflies.

“Don’t go alone. Let me come with you.” You whisper into the darkness, your eyes still shut tightly.

“I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t care. Let me go with you.”

“Stay.” He leans forward again, kissing your cheek. “Please.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him say that before. It makes your heart stutter in your chest, and your stomach swirl with uncertainty.

“If you don’t come back, I will destroy this ship coming to get you.” Your eyebrows furrow together, and he laughs. This time, the warmth of it graces your cheeks, and it has you arching off the chair to get closer to him.

“I’ll be back with your enemies, my Queen. Before you know it.” You hear the click of his helmet go back on, and the feeling of him kneeling in front of you leaves too fast to register.

By the time you open your eyes, he’s gone, and the only trace of him left behind is the burn his lips left behind on your now too cold skin.

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[thefrogdalorian]

Dincember Day 6: Gifts

Word Count: 2050 Rating: General Summary: It's Life Day and time for you and Din exchange gifts. You love sharing in the joy of seeing others surprised with your gifts, but nothing surprises you more than the incredibly thoughtful gift Din gives to you. Content Warnings: Tiny little mention of grieving parents but other than that, fluff! Author's note: This was just so soft and I once again made myself emo... need to hug Din Djarin like rn IT'S SICK.

You had explained to Din that swapping gifts was a Life Day tradition that you enjoyed and, while you obviously enjoyed receiving presents, giving gifts to others brought you the most joy. You wanted Din to know that he did not have to get you anything flashy or expensive as you had everything you had ever dreamed about in him and Grogu, plus the little cabin you shared on Nevarro. You knew how generous Din could be, how he always made sure that you wanted for nothing. A life with him meant you had everything you needed. Plus, whenever the two of you enjoyed a trip together, Din always ensured that you stayed in the most luxurious lodgings available.

But Din was not exactly an easy person to buy presents for. You really wanted to spoil him, but what could you buy the man who always wore the same thing? Who had a perfectly functional ship, a well furnished cabin and who had a dizzying array of weapons already? You knew the best way to spoil Din was to buy gifts for Grogu, so while you pondered what you would buy for your incredible Mandalorian partner, that was exactly what you did. You had only meant to visit the market to buy Grogu a Loth-cat plush from a familiar vendor on Nevarro. You came away with several plushies, some new clothes and plenty of traditional candies that would be eaten at this time of year. You knew the way to Grogu's heart was through food and he would make short work of the sweet treats.

You felt somewhat guilty that ideas for what to buy Din were not coming easily to you. You loved buying gifts for others, loved the look on their faces and their excitable reactions to the surprise of the gift, which to you, of course, was no surprise at all. But there was one thing that you knew Din desperately needed, something that would make your nights more tolerable if your gift stopped him complaining about the temperature of his feet.

So, with that in mind, you ventured to the latest market on Nevarro, to head for the vendor you knew would stock exactly what you needed. You were shopping for his gifts in plenty of time, which was fortunate, because while you were shopping for one part of his present at the tailor, an idea struck you.

"If I gave you the name of a planet, would you be able to source traditional garments from there?" You asked curiously, admiring the enormous variety of materials the elderly woman stocked.

"No promises," She said, flashing you a gap-toothed grin, "But I will endeavour to do my best."

You were grateful that you had been so organised shopping for Din's gifts as to leave enough time for the vendor to attempt to source the materials from the planet you knew would hold enormous sentimentality for Din. You headed back to your cabin with your heart soaring as you imagined Din’s reaction to the gifts you would exchange with him.

The big day arrived, and you were practically bursting with excitement to finally give Din and Grogu the gifts that you had sourced for them. You were equally excited to see what Din had in store for you. You were sure whatever it was, that it would be incredibly thoughtful. Although Din did not have the years of experience in exchanging presents with loved ones as you did, you knew that he confronted everything in his life with nothing less than one hundred per cent enthusiasm, especially when it came to his loved ones.

The first order of business was naturally to give Grogu his gifts. You knew scant details about his life before Din, as Din himself did. But what you did know had broken your heart, the little guy had been through so much loss and fear over his life. So, you did not feel too bad if you were spoiling him just a little bit.

With Grogu happily occupied by the new plushies and making headway into the festive candy you had bought for him – you thought that you had bought enough that it might actually take him several hours to gobble it all up, but it seemed that the treats would not see the light of day for too much longer – you couldn’t wait any longer to give Din the gifts that you had bought for him.

“Okay, so, the first gift I bought you is something I believe you really need because I’m constantly having to hear you complain about it at night.” You babbled excitedly, always eager to explain the gifts that you had bought for the recipients to them, whether they wanted to hear it or not.

“Alright…” Din said cautiously, as he accepted the neatly wrapped package that you handed to him from your position on the floor, where you had just helped Grogu unwrap his presents. 

You squealed with delight as Din began to unwrap your present, excited to see his reaction. When he had finally torn through the shimmering paper, he lifted the woolly garments off his lap and held them in the air, regarding them curiously. 

“Socks?” Din said, raising an eyebrow curiously. 

“They’re made from Tauntaun fur! I bought them from a vendor at the market,” You explained enthusiastically. “I know you’re always complaining about having cold feet at night, so this will take care of that.”

“Thank you cyare, that’s very thoughtful of you,” Din said, appreciatively, as he felt the warmth of the fur by placing his hand in the socks. 

“You’re welcome,” You smiled as you handed Din the next parcel. “This is your main present. It took some time for me to arrange this, and I'm not entirely sure that it is authentic, but the vendor assured me she did her best."

You waited with bated breath, as Din unwrapped the paper and pulled out the cloth. You knew instantly, from his reaction, that he recognised the distinctive red material.

“How did you get this?” Din said quietly, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I… I haven’t seen this shade for so many years.”

“I asked the same vendor at the market that I bought your socks from, whether she could source rare materials for me. I gave her the name of your home planet, she said to leave it with her.” You nodded. “I picked it up a few days ago. I hope you like it.”

“It’s Aq Vetina Carmine… right here before my eyes. Cyare, I don’t…” Din shut his eyes again, clearly fighting hard against his emotions. “I don’t know what to say, other than thank you.” 

“You can do whatever you’d like with it. I was thinking perhaps of a new cape, considering how your current one has certainly seen better days. Or some other clothes, or a blanket…” You trailed off quietly. “Really, whatever you like.” Your enthusiastic babbling seemed inappropriate once you had realised how emotional your present had made Din.

“Thank you,” Din said quietly. He sat there and cradled the fabric between his fingers, no doubt thinking of his much-missed parents and home world. Din a few moments to compose himself. You glanced over to Grogu, who had taken a pause from his assault on the sugary treats to look at his father with concerned big, brown eyes. 

You sat there silently for a few more moments, fearing that perhaps you had slightly soured the mood by giving Din such an emotional gift on a day that was meant to be filled with joy. But then Din shook his head, regained his composure and placed the fabric carefully on the arm of the couch. 

“My turn,” Din smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. You knew that your present had deeply moved him. But you also knew that the excitement to give you whatever it was he had for your present had overridden any upsetting emotions that the gift of Aq Vetina Carmine had provoked in him.

“I can’t wait,” You smiled, leaning forward on your knees in anticipation.

“This is something that I’ve been meaning to give you for a while now,” Din said quietly. If you weren’t mistaken, there was a sudden shyness that had come over him. You wondered what could possibly be inside the little pouch that he had just pulled out of his pocket. “It may not look like much, but it has a deep meaning in Mandalorian culture.”

The cloth of the pouch was soft in your palm. Inside, you could feel a small, hard weight. It did not feel particularly heavy and you wondered why such a small thing could be making Din so visibly anxious. You took a deep breath, as you pulled on the strings of the cloth pouch with trembling fingers. You reached your thumb and forefinger inside and felt the cool metal, which appeared to be of a similar composure as the Beskar which Din’s armour was made out of.

You pulled the mystery object out of the cloth pouch, but what greeted you did not answer any of your questions. It was a metallic shape, it looked to be a skull of some kind with two tusks protruding from it. There was a thin, black leather strap that the pendant was attached to. The craftsmanship on it was stunning. Whatever it was, it looked beautiful.

You looked at Din, with curious eyes, visibly confused about the meaning behind his gift. “It’s gorgeous Din, what is it?” You asked, curiously.

“It’s a Mythosaur, the sacred, ancient symbol that belongs to all Mandalorians,” Din said, gesturing towards the pendant that you still clutched tightly in your fingers. “It’s made out of Beskar, the same steel that my armour is forged from.”

“It’s stunning, Din,” You breathed, deeply touched that he was sharing a part of the traditions of his people with you, an outsider. 

“And when given to another…” Din shut his eyes and took a deep breath, clearly attempting to steady his nerves before he completed what he needed to tell you. “It means, if you’d like to be, you would be a part of my Clan, alongside Grogu. Wherever you are in the galaxy, even if we are no longer together, even if I’m… no longer alive, you can show that necklace to any Mandalorian, any covert and give them my name. You will always have protection and a safe place to go.”

“Oh Din,” You whispered shakily as tears began to stream down your cheeks. You pushed yourself up from the floor where you sat and sat on the couch next to him, throwing your arms around his neck. “I love you, so so much.”

“I love you too, cyare,” Din said into your hair, as he buried his face into the side of your neck.

You could barely speak, the gesture had left you feeling so emotional. Not just the thought of Din no longer being around, but the fact that he cared for you so deeply that he wanted you to be a part of his Clan. Din had introduced you to some Mandalorian customs throughout your relationship, sharing the way of life that was such an important part of the man that he was, but it had never been anything as deep, nor as profound, as the gift of the Mythosaur necklace. 

“Thank you,” You said, pulling back from the embrace and cupping his stubbly chin with your hand gently, “It’s the most meaningful gift I’ve ever received. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

“I could say the same about you,” Din said, as he brought his plush, warm lips to yours for a gentle kiss. 

“Beats socks, too,” You said, giggling, as Grogu leapt onto Din’s lap, clearly feeling abandoned on the floor.

“Nonsense, never having to worry about cold feet ever again is a win in my eyes,” Din said, his brown eyes shining from the multicoloured lights that still twinkled in the main room of the cabin. 

You stayed there, cuddled up warm with the two Mandalorians who had just officially become your Clan, grateful for having such an incredible man in your life, your heart full from exchanging such sentimental gifts.

[burnwater13]

The Armorer speaking to Din Djarin and Paz Vizsla (out of frame) in the Mandalorian covert on Nevarro. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 3, The Sin. Calendar by DateWorks. Caption reads: When one chooses to walk the Way of the Mandalore, you are both hunter and prey. - The Armorer.

So who exactly was the Mand’alor? Grogu was pretty sure that he wasn’t the Mand’alor, but what about his dad? According to Bo-Katan, whoever won the Darksaber in battle was the new Mand’alor. But even though his dad had done that, she didn’t bow, or curtsey or even nod her head in his general direction. 

Then his dad had given it to her or let her keep it after that weird creature on Mandalore had attacked him and carried him away. Yes, Bo-Katan had defeated that creature, but so what. She had managed to pick up the Darksaber from the floor of the cavern. She used it as a tool to fight with, but it wasn’t like the creature was using it to fight her. 

And okay, even that transitive property of winning a fight with a person who won a fight with a person who had last handled the Darksaber was enough to make that legitimate ownership of the Darksaber, why was that even a way of becoming Mand’alor? That seemed kind of silly. The Armorer hadn’t even believed that was the proper way to become Mand’alor. If anyone was going to know, Grogu figured they would. 

But as Grogu thought back on the few interactions he’d had with the the talented beskar smith, he was pretty sure that she had never said anything about how a person actually became Mand’alor. Why was that? It seemed like a pretty important thing to know, particularly after they’d figured out that Mandalore the planet wasn’t just a glassified wasteland of a planet. 

“Buddy, the point is moot. Bo-Katan is Mand’alor because the Mandalorian people have proclaimed her to be Mand’alor. It’s as simple as that.”

Grogu hated it when his dad read his mind like he was some sort of Jedi. He knew that the people present on Mandalore had rallied around Bo-Katan because she had been the last Mand’alor and she’d led them into that battle with the Imps that no one knew were still on Mandalore. But of course, from his perspective, a lot of that happened because of his dad and the Armorer. None of it really had anything to do with the Darksaber. It was just a thing. What power did it actually have?

According to legend it had been made by Tarre Vizsla, a Jedi, who also happened to be Mandalorian. But how Mandalorian could he have been? The Jedi started training people at a very young age. It didn’t seem logical that they would have let any particular youngling maintain any sort of deep attachment to a home world when they didn’t let them maintain an attachment to their own family. Why would have Tarre Vizsla cared about them or made a lightsaber out of beskar? How would he have even gotten the beskar?

“Grogu, that was a long time ago and even Mandalorians don’t know the answers to those questions. How do you think a person should become Mand’alor?”

There was his dad again! Just butting right into his thoughts again.

“Buddy, in case you didn’t notice, you’ve been using the sign language the Sand People taught you to do all this ‘thinking out loud’. I couldn’t avoid understanding you.”

Grogu chirped a rather sharp rebuke to his dad. He could have closed his eyes and let Grogu rant in peace. But no, not his dad. Not ‘The Mandalorian, Din Djarin’. He couldn’t…

“Okay, kid. Maybe we should just head back to the ship. You seem pretty over stimulated already.”

His dad reached down to pick him up but Grogu dodged his hands quickly and reached out and grabbed the giant Mythosaur shaped lollypop that he’d been considering since they entered the candy shop that had opened right next door to the Cin Vhetin. This was the one piece of candy he wanted. He just hoped it worked.

“Grogu, I know the legend about the Mythosaur and I’m pretty sure that riding a Mythosaur shaped lollipop around New Sundari won’t make you Mand’alor. Sorry, buddy.”

Dank Farrik! His dad had figured him out. Grogu wanted to have a proper pout about that, as he’d learned Mand’alors were allowed to do that when things didn’t go perfectly their way, but that wasn’t going to happen. His dad was a Mandalorian and scooped him up, lollipop and all and went over to the proprietor of the shop. 

“Is that all the little one wants? No fire stacks or popping eggs?”

She spoke in Mando’a and Grogu was glad that he was able to keep up with her. He’d been practicing when his dad was asleep because according to Din Djarin his accent wasn’t perfect. Uff. 

“Nayc. He’s already pretty wound up about this one.”

She grinned at them both. Grogu liked her instantly. She had pretty green eyes. 

“Every one who hopes to become Mand’alor, children and adults, ask for this particular confection at least once. I’m sorry to say I have never seen it work, but there is no fault in wishing for it.”

Din Djarin sighed.

“Now, he’ll want to come here everyday to try again.”

Grogu laughed and nodded his head. He was definitely going to do that. 

“Perhaps you should ask him why he wants to be Mand’alor. Most of the children have a pretty simple reason for that wish.”

“What the heck. Grogu. Why do you want to be Mand’alor?”

Grogu signed his response as quickly as he could because he didn’t want his dad to stop him.

The Mandalorian shook his head. 

“Did you catch any of that?” 

“Not if you don’t want me to, but I will say that is a very popular sentiment among the foundlings who have returned. They would like to see the smiles and laugh lines and tears. They think that there’s no reason to hide now that they have been returned to Mandalore. Perhaps they are right.”

“Perhaps they are.”

Grogu sighed and let his dad think that was the last word they would have on the subject for the time being. As long as Din Djarin understood that someday soon he could take off that helmet and let Grogu see those brown eyes again Grogu could wait patiently. Eventually he’d ride a real Mythosaur and his dad couldn’t deny him because he’d be Mand’alor for real.

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 21

Howdy darlin'

Welcome to the 21st Spreadsheet Digest. If you're new here, this is every fic I read this week, each with a little summary and my unhinged thoughts about it. This week we have 24 fics!! It's a lot because I decided to try to read one fic each from "small writers" that were recc'd on this list. I obviously didn't get all the way through the list, but I plan to continue this week! (I also read a few other things)

As always, you can find the original Spreadsheet here and all my previous fic recs here. Here is my masterlist and my kofi, if you feel so inclined.

Fic recs below the Pedro (and Nik) <3

Hotel Hobbies - a Jack series by @loversandantiheroes

Guys, friends, my loves, listen. Whiskey gets tied up!!! Ok so like the summary is that you're at a hotel for a conference and you meet a cocky cowboy at the bar and then some stuff happens and then the next night some not canon but canon typical stuff happens to Whiskey and that influences the next bit of fun stuff that happens between you two and... holy fucking shit dude this is HOT.

Sundown - a Joel one shot by @bageldaddy

You live in a trailer park and Joel moves in to the trailer across from yours. You're a young woman living on your own and he's old and doesn't really seem to have family. You get close and.. ya know. Listen... I love the way this fic captures the place they're in? Like as a kid who grew up in a trailer and in a tiny town in bumfuck nowhere, I felt very connected to the location of this fic and I loved how it was depicted. Stuff like changing out the skirting of the trailer is nostalgic to me lol. But then also just the way Joel is characterized here? And don't get me started on the smut. (babes there's somno in here!! and also realistic depictions of trying to fuck Joel "Monstercock" Miller). This fic made me happy idk.

Tease - a Javi P one shot by by @amanitacowboy

Javi forgets his lunch at home and you decide to take it to him at work... wearing nothing under your dress. So Javi decides to tease you and sends you home to wait for him and you're not allowed to touch yourself while you wait... but then of course you break the rules just to get him riled up and... he gets very riled up. This is so hot. Like the smut is filthy, but you can also tell how much they love and care about each other throughout the whole thing. Incredible <3

You're a Mansion With a View - a Joel one shot by @atticrissfinch

Daddy Joel takes really good care of his baby. That's it. That's the fic. And it is everything. I love Katy's dark fics with all my heart, but I think Daddy!Joel might be my favorite

Frankie and Din - a Frankie/Din one shot by @avastrasposts

This is so fucking funny and adorable. I love it so much. Basically Din and the N1 show up at Frankie's airfield and Frankie wants to test drive the N1, but Din is the way he is. Listen... it's like grumpy x sunshine but like they're not fucking? But hear me out. Part two.... I'm just saying. Din doesn't let just anyone pilot his ship.

An HR Nightmare - a Javi P one shot by @beefrobeefcal

Chubby Javi P!!! I speak from experience... quitting smoking will do it to ya. I love grumpy chubby Peña so fucking much. Silly stubborn man. You are his secretary and you love watching his tummy round out and you feed him hard candy and other sweets all the time. The ending too... Damn. Two words, friends: office sex. And it is glorious.

The Riding Lesson - a Jack one shot by @bluestar22x

You're a new trail guide at a ranch and Jack gives you a lesson on how to ride western! I know absolutely nothing about horses or how to ride them or anything, but this was still lovely to read! It's got a cute bit of flirting with the pretty cowboy and is overall just very cute and lovely.

Stages of Grief - a Joel one shot by @bonezone44

This is for all of us who have shitty families lol. You finally come to terms with the fact that your family fuckin sucks and Joel helps you through it. If you've ever fantasized about a gorgeous man loving you through a mental breakdown, this will be delightful for you (me lol). I really adored this. It hit home and I loved the message and I loved how understanding and firm Joel was in it.

The Angel in Me - a Dieter one shot by @chaoticgeminate

Dieter Bravo as an angel? Never expected that. He's in training and he gets put on gate duty when he meets you (gn!reader bc you get to pick when you get to heaven i think?). You were a fan of Dieter Bravo back on Earth and you very happily give him a blowjob in thanks for uhhhh something. Spoilers. This is hot and kind of sweet? Dieter is the king of being a little depraved in the sweetest ways ugh.

Acting Out - a Din one shot by @cool-iguana

Din goes on a hunt and you decide to tease him over the comm link, breaking the rules not to touch yourself and driving Din absolutely crazy. When he gets back he punishes you. Bruh... light daddy kink, spanking, bondage, edging, little bit of overstimulation... this fic has it all. And then the aftercare is also so sweet? I'm so obsessed with this

For the Love of Horror - a Dieter series by @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist

So you start dating Dieter and you're a horror film nerd. Dieter, however, is a scaredy cat. Absolutely terrified. This is like... a loosefit series, but this is the first one and it's cute all by itself (although I obviously recommend reading the rest of them too). There's flirting and nerding out over movies and Dieter being adorable. It's perfect tbh.

The Vagabond Gladiator - a Joel series by @dark-scape

Gladiator!Joel!!!!!!! He's a vagabond and he shows up with The Innocent, a young virgin (Ellie) desitined to be sacrificed to save the city. You are a Vestal Virgin, sworn to protect the city and also to be pure. This series does such a good job of taking elements from canon and blending them into this AU. It's a really interesting read -- I was fuckin riveted -- and the smut is... so fuckin good.

Dangerous Games - a Din one shot by @decembermidnight

You hide under the kriffing table at the cantina on Nevarro and give Din the bj of his life while he talks to Karga and it's hot as fuck and also a little funny bc he's like trying to keep his cool and not doing a good job of it. And then obviously he cannot let this stand so he drags your ass back to the ship and fucks you stupid. Dom!Din is sooooo hot ugh. This fic is incredible. 10/10

My Brother's Keeper - a Joel series by @diversemediums

So this is the first chapter of a series that I am so so excited to read. You were Tommy's gf in the QZ and he when he decided to leave, you didn't go with him. Tragically... you find out you're pregnant 3 months after he leaves. So you seek out Joel and he comforts you and he's so fucking soft and sweet, but still in that gruff mean QZ!Joel way lol and he's lowkey down bad for reader but she doesn't know that. I seriously cannot wait for more.

The Parents That Are Left - a Joel one shot by @frenchiereading

Joel had this patrol partner, Iris, who he adored. She was kind of like a daughter? Not in the Ellie way and def not in the Sarah way, but he really cared about her. Anyway she died. And this fic is him going to visit her mom (not romantic btw). This is just such a beautiful, painful portrayal of grief and a wonderful little snapshot of two people who lost their kids bonding over their tragedies. I love it so much.

Boss - a Javi P series by @guess-my-next-obsession

JAVI P IS FUCKING HIS BOSS AND YOU'RE THE BOSS???? What's not to like man

Salty Caramel - a Jack one shot by @iamskyereads

Guys, friends, my loves, my darlings. It's an Agent Whiskey sex pollen/fuck or die fic. Like. This is devastatingly hot. This is everything my depraved little brain has ever wanted.

My Girl Now - a Joel one shot by @psychedelic-ink

Your boyfriend is a fucking asshole who is super controlling and just genuinely the worst and he hired Joel to redo your kitchen. Joel is soft and sweet and wonderful and makes you feel lovely.... and then he absolutely rails you on camera, has you call him Daddy, he says all kinds of mean shit to your bf, etc. And then your petty ass actually sends it to the motherfucker. Perfect. No notes. This is amazing.

A Piece of Cake - a Frankie one shot by @idolatrybarbie

Frankie is your ex and you see him at the bowling alley and have to contemplate like... why you broke up and you remember the good times and shit and it hurts. Bea likes to hurt my feelings.

No Entendemos - a Frankie/Santi one shot by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

You're lost in the street in Italy and come upon two dudes who don't seem to speak English and try to ask them for a phone to use to call your friends. You are not aware that Frankie and Santi, who are going to try to get their money from that one heist back, def speak English. You're also caught off guard by what happens next... TW NONCON.... I'm in love with the dynamic between Frankie and Santi. The way Santi is this dark driving force, pushing Frankie to do fucked up shit. And Frankie has lost so much already in his life because of this dude, I think he's given up on trying to be good.

A Good Friend to Have - a Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

YOOOO okay Kel's fucking boyfriend wrote this fic. You help your friend get away from the big scary bounty hunter by distracting him. You tell him you'll give him information if he does what you ask.... Friends this is dub con (for Din, not reader), sub!Din, with helmet riding, orgasm denial, and edging and a little (creed based) blasphemy. It's so hot.

Blood Money - a Dave/Max P series by @theywhowriteandknowthings

You are a bookkeeper for the fuckin vampire mafia and they keep you naked and chained in a basement, barely fed or hydrated. You get rescued though! Yay! Oh shit you get rescued by more vampires. You think this will be a bad thing but it... actually doesn't seem like it's gonna be all that bad. I have a little BTS knowledge and am delighted to tell you that this is eventual Reader x Max x Dave. Y'all know I love a throuple... and now we're adding in vampires. Excellent.

Whatever's on Tonight - a Joel one shot by @inthe-dark-tonight

You go on a little get away vacation with Joel and... fuck in the hot tub. This is pure porn but it is also so soft and sweet and perfect? Joel is an angel man and I want to kiss his perfect forehead. I love this.

Fucking Your Best Friend's Brother - a Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters

You're hanging out with Tommy and Joel for Christmas. Tommy is your best friend and he has a massive crush on you. You're not into him though, you're into his brother. Joel notices this and decides to do something about it. Mean Joel, super hot dom!joel. Slapping and spitting and all the good shit. This is fucking amazing.

-------------------------

I also wrote a lil fic this week!

Red Right Hand - a Max Phillips one shot by meeee

This is a follow up to I Bite Back, but you don't need to read that first. It can stand alone and you won't be confused. Sub!Max Phillips x vamp!Dom!reader <3

------------------------

Happy Reading!

[current-interest-writings]

A Babys Space Halloween

Mando x reader x baby yoda 

After leaving Navarro behind to begin to look for the child's people ( even if you didnt want to give him up). you had been traveling with din since tattooine. he trusted you to look after the child and be able to fight..... even if he didn't quite like it. but thats not the point. 

it was nearing the time of year at your home planet where Halloween is taking place, pumpkins being painted or cut into jack-o-lanterns to glow in the dark of night. children and adults dressing up as characters or just dressing up in general. a time of candy and fun. it was something you missed the most of your home. and looking at your small son you wanted him to partake in this tradition as well, for as long as you had him for. and you knew you had the perfect costume for the little one. you just had to convince your riduur to let you carve pumpkins and have them on the crest for a little bit.

as you walked up behind your riduur in the cockpit he turned around to look at you through his visor. you tilted your head and gave him a sweet smile that usually ended with you getting your way. “ My dear husband, I know you are not one to follow traditions outside of your own for holidays, ( excluding the times he's tried like for Christmas). But on my home planet around this time we have a day called Halloween. I wanna know if I can bring it on the crest?” You rested a hand on his pauldron.

he tilted his head more at to look at your face and tilt his head, even though you knew what he looked like he still found comfort in wearing his bucket so you never pressured him into removing it. He sighed “ and what are apart of these tradtions of yours” you squealed in excitement and rattled off the list of things you needed.

------------------------------------time skip---------------------------------------------------

Din walked down the ramp to go gather materials needed for the ship and for you to decorate the hull of the crest. He promised to get back in three hours, which left you and the child to your own devices for a while. you looked at the child “ my little trouble maker do you want to help me with something?” He’s at your leg try to crawl up your pant leg. “I’ll take that as a yes”

You grabbed the youngling and grabbed some of the scrap pieces Din kept around the ship for emergency repairs. “Time to get to work on this costume”

A few hours later din is walking back to the ship with some pumpkin-like plants and he sees you have placed your lights back up in the Hull of the ship but these ones are purple, where you keep them he doesn't know. but he knows he hears you in the sleep area and has missed you and the child.

"hold on little one, I know he is back but you need to wait. One last finishing touch and you can show your Buir your little costume."

a few babbles can be heard from the kid as he responds to you

but a few moments later you came out from the area shielding the child from his view, you can almost feel your husband raise his eyebrow under the helmet.

you just gave him a small smile and dramatically spread your arms comically wide and said

"may I present to you the best bounty hunter in this parsec" The room door slides open

din felt his heart fill with warmth at the sight of the kid dressed like him..

grogu waddled up to his father and raised his arms

"alright cryika what next?" both of your boys look at you

" time to eat candy, stay up wayyyyyy to late and watch holo vids"

"thats it?"

'normally we would go door to door for candy, but i dont think you would be down to do that"

"alright.... which candy first"

the rest of the night was spent watching holovids and eating too mant sweets and cookies

[direwolfrules]

3 Mandos and a Baby AU: The One Where Bo-Katan Accidentally Adopts a Child

So, while the Scooby Gang was handling Mandalorian affairs the Clone Wars kick off.

Listen, killing Pre Vizsla and installing a 16 year old as the head of a whole sector takes a lot of focus and they all just kinda forgot about their local Sith Lord for a minute. Satine’s kept in power as Jorad’alor, because Korkie loves and respects his mom aunt, and also cause the New Mando acceptance for his rule is kinda predicated on that.

So Korkie involves them in the Clone Wars on the side of the Republic because “Jaster and 99 want me to save their grandsons/brothers”. If he starts secretly sending out baruurs to cut out the clones chips well, the Republic doesn’t need to know. And if he’s giving all clones Mandalorian citizenship well, the Republic can go jump in a Rancor pit.

This boy has no tolerance for slavery of any kind, and in his speech to his councilors Bo-Katan is reminded of another, older Korkie, passionately defending his choice to blow another Hutt slave processing camp sky high. She can’t help but be proud, and a little bit sad. What good would that Korkie had done had he not kept running into the fires that night, determined to save every Mando’ad he could?

I’m going to say Aq Vetina is a colony world just outside of Mandalorian Space and nominally under the authority of a Core world. Unfortunately for Aq Vetina, that Core world is corrupt as fuck/friendly with the galaxy’s creepiest old man. It gets attacked and out ride the mighty Mandalorians, off to save the day!

It ends up being a joint project between the Protectors and the Nite Owls, because Korkie declared it so (Myles may or may not have gotten Korkie in on the bofenn shipping. Adonai just stares menacingly from the corner). The Children of the Watch seemed to be the ones coolest with having an actual child as their king and did not protest when he sent them to guard Kamino.

Anyway, Bo and Fenn spend the whole fight making sarcastic comments and trying their best to one up each other, as one does now that they’ve completed the most therapeutic action of all, killing an abusive domestic terrorist. Anyway, it gets down to the last few Super Battle Droids and Bo hears crying from a storm cellar.

Anyway, ten minutes later Bo has a young Din Djarin strapped to her back and a deep sense of disgruntlement. Her final rival for the Darksaber, bane of her existence, and lord of all that’s annoying is currently an adorable five year old sucking on a piece of candied muja fruit Fenn gave him and sobbing into her hair.

Once the mourning little boy cries himself to sleep Bo fills Fenn in on her history with Mand’alor Djarin and his frog son. Fenn thinks this is hysterical, and laughs so hard he almost wakes up the ad’ika.

This is a theme that’s repeated amongst the time travelers, with the exception of Ursa. She actually does laugh so loud it wakes up baby Din.

Anyway, Bo-Katan is adamant that she is not adopting this kid. She’s not! The fact that she’s acting parental is just coincidence! Sure, she’s feeding the kid and clothing the kid and letting him seek affection and assurance from her, but that’s normal when dealing with a traumatized ad’ika. Try finding a Mando’ad who wouldn’t treat a traumatized orphan that way. (Fenn’s rebuttal to this is “Find one who wouldn’t adopt a traumatized orphan” and Bo elbows him in the ribs)

The whole time they’re in Sundari after that (Keldabe’s still being rebuilt) baby Din just follows after her like trouble follows R2-D2. Satine puts baby Din up in the family apartments, because Satine’s still pissed about the whole coup thing and also because she has a great many years of older sister teasing to make up for. (And maybe, in some part of her soul, Satine is glad that clan Kryze is growing again. It used to be a great clan, with dozens of members before the Wars and the bombing of Kalevala’s dome).

Korkie just flat out calls Din his cousin. Whenever people visit the palace and question who the new kid is Korkie tells them it’s his Auntie Bo’s kid. Bo kinda regrets giving a literal teenager near-absolute power over their people. Her nephew just gives her unimpressed looks and mentions that she got the armorer to start making Din beskar out of her Great Aunt’s old kit, and by giving this kid the family beskar she’s just adopting him without the formal declaration. Then he does that weird thing where he laughs at nothing (he’s laughing at Adonai’s excitement over new grandchildren).

Anyway, after a few weeks of this Fenn goes to adopt baby Din and Bo-Katan and he get super into it about who this kid’s buir is. Things suddenly get quiet and when they do finally come down an hour later they’ve agreed on shared custody. No one mentions what they were doing up there, and no one wants to.

Well, except for Myles and Tarre, but no one listens to them much. Except Adonai and Jaster, but that’s only so they know when the face-punching should commence.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Happy Pedro Party! Pick your 3 fave Pedro Boys, and let me know what food and/or beverage they're bringing to share. Something homemade/homebrewed? Pantry raid, perhaps (yes, that's PANTRY, sheesh 😉)

Oh noooo. My fav three? HOW DO I CHOOSE?! I feel like I'm betraying all of my other boyfriends. I'll go easiest first.

Joel Miller, baby, my number one. He's actually mastered the art of 7 layer dip. His secret? Mixing cumin into the refried beans he makes from scratch and a bit of pickled jalapeño juice into the guacamole (I MIGHT do the same thing on both fronts)... you won't believe how good his biceps look as he mashes those beans.

Din Djarin, well, you have to understand something about Din, he has never allowed himself to enjoy the finer things in life. It's a constant struggle to convince him to stop and savor food... and life. He's still a work in progress, but he does have a lot of credits to spend on whatever bags of candy and chips he lets his kid pick out. He hastily grabs a few bags from the ship pantry and brings them to the party. I don't think ANYBODY touches the Galactic Frog Lady Egg Flavored chips.

Javier, Javier, Javieeeer Peña. He's a giver, definitely, there's a lot of proof out there. He's bringing the biggest, grandest fruit salad because he knows what watching him tear into a piece of fruit does to you... and he's also bringing Busch beer. (I know nothing about beer, in fact I hate it so I have no clue if it's insulting to suggest that.) Why is he bringing Busch Light? Well, he's got a lot of bush to share.

[nerdieforpedro]

Nerdie! What's the best date a PP character could surprise you with?

Melly, I thought very deeply on this question. Pondering, plotting a bit maybe in my head of course.

Truthfully, I am a simple woman. A PP character popping up and asking me on a date is the surprise itself and they could tel me we're going to McDonald's and splitting a happy meal because they have a coupon and I'd still giggle like I won the lottery. 😆

Frankie Morales would be the one to convince me to get in a helicopter. Planes I'm fine in, those helicopters seem to shake and look scary, but I'd trust him. Wouldn't even make him do a pee test. I'd just need to check his pupils with my penlight though. We can have a drink after to calm my nerves.

Marcus Pike would take me to some restaurant where you actually need a proper date outfit and not scrubs or leggings. We would need to go shopping on our way there or knowing him, he'd bring me an outfit in my size (how did you know sir, I don't think that's a skill for art crime?) And I'd eat foods I can't pronounce, maybe they'd be a bit spicy, but it would still be fun because I'd be trying new foods with Marcus who is a foodie.

Joel Miller would take me on a picnic. Because it won't require much cooking. That's dangerous territory for Joel and I'm not trying to die Mr. Miller. Ham sandwiches, assortment of juices, water and soda, Pringles chips (because he knows those are the only ones I will eat) something chocolate (cake, candy, pudding, brownies, etc) but not peanuts in the chocolate. It's offensive to the chocolate. We can sit out in nature and just chill, chat and maybe, just maybe, he'll let me play with hair. Like a little. Just a little Joel!

Speaking of chill, a date with Dieter would start off with some edibles while we travel somewhere. Air boat ride, go-carts, drag brunch, somewhere you would not expect for a date but it would still be s fun. He would encourage me to 'relax' and try some of whatever is in his stash. Mushrooms? Pills? Music notes? A powder? Who knows? Clothes will come off not for sexual reasons, but because we're both hot because we're high, then we're wet because it was a bright idea to jump in a pool. Now we're soggy, go shopping for new clothes. I finally my own Dieter robe and pajama pants. He won't let me get a shirt though, insists I wear a glitter tank top with the word 'moist' on it because I lost a game of go fish. We end on karaoke (I enjoy karaoke if they have songs I like) and ramen. Huge bowel of ramen. Followed by ice cream. Lots of laughing and then we sleep in a pillow fort where we need to help each other up off the floor. Then it's time for some biofreeze, icy hot, tiger balm, lidocaine, something. I can rub it there Dee but we gotta shower first. I'm unsure if we did after the pool and I'm not okay with that, but I was high. So let's wash though, it's itchy in this fort. 😎

A date with Din would be include the RazorCrest, because I wanna go into space. I mean Din's going to have to tell me how to be safe in space, but I wanna go. I would also ask that he let me try his cape out so I can swish it around. Maybe I'll get a laugh out of him but either way, I'm going to make that cape flourish. I'd also ask him questions about Mandalorian culture so I can just listen to him explain stuff to me, his voice echoing in the ship. Hehe 🥰 Maybe he'll even let me hold his hand and touch the beskar, if I can ask without sounding completely crazy.

I don't know how a date with Javier Pena would go. I don't feel like I'm cool enough to hang with Javi. We might go to a club or a bar, somewhere you can dance. I also can't dance, so this maybe isn't the best idea, but a few drinks will make me think I'm a better dancer and we may have fun. 🤣

I also would not know how a date with Dave York would go either. He'd too busy with his...contracts, let's say. His would be the most surprising because he's likely to break in when I'm either writing, watching TV, taking a nap, playing a game or otherwise doing some not cool thing that I find highly enjoyable. We're going to someplace I can't mention and he may blindfold me so I don't know the way there. My sense of direction is pretty poor so there's really no need for that Dave. It's going to be a classy place similar to Marcus and he would need to get me an outfit for that too, but I think he's also going to put me to work as a distraction or helping out with a contract because I have fingerprints that read very poorly. (I needed to be fingerprinted 3 times for my nursing license to the point they said - 'meh, just forget it and keep and ear out from the state board.') Then he'll drop me at home and tell me until next time and give me my cut of the money. Best paying date ever. 🫡

Javi G and I are having a movie marathon at his place in Majorca. I have a passport and I can pack fairly quickly. May do a walk on the beach to get out of the house. Not leaving unless he lets me fluff his hair. I will fight him and pin him down. Which is a lot but that gorgeous mane is worth it. 🤭

My bad Melly, I went into some Dieter, Din and Dave brain rot here. 😚 Hopefully you giggled and I maybe answered your question.

[slashaer]

the child is a jedi . . . ? well, that's unexpected, isn't it? candy can't help but to look back at grogu, somewhat shocked at the confession. 'a jedi?' candice repeats incredulously, a surprised laugh escaping her before she covers her mouth with a manicured hand. gazing down at grogu, she can't help but to feel a bit of hope well up inside of her. when was the last time anyone had mentioned the jedi? ever since they went underground, had to hide to protect themselves, they always seemed like a sensitive subject. but they still existed, and this child — the next generation of jedi — deserved to live. whoever wanted to kill him obviously thought he was powerful, or would grow up to be. and candice wanted to live in a world to see him grow into his full potential.

eyes move back to din once more, the woman thinking about his words, how much trust it took to lead her here, to show her his failed bounty. all he wanted was to get the child somewhere safe, and candy can't deny how much she admired din's decision to do so. sometimes, candy lost hope in humanity. the wars, the bloodshed — even her own occupation revolved around hurting others. but there were still good choices to be made, and if din — another bounty hunter — could do such a kind thing as bring grogu back to his people, than candy thought everything might be alright, in the end.

'well, i . . . i've never met one,' candy admits slowly, wracking her brain for any knowledge that might be useful in this situation. she imagined she wasn't in the minority, there; those who have met jedi were lucky, in her mind. but after a moment, eyes light up a bit as she remembers a name that was once told to her. 'but i may know of one. i know nothing about her besides her name, and even then the source i got her name from isn't exactly trustworthy, but — ahsoka tano. perhaps we can find her together,' candy beams slightly up at din, smile reflected in the glass of his helmet. 'it's the only shot we've got, isn't it?'

this is a big deal. din trusts her this much. she owes him her life, and in return, he'd like her assistance in this extremely delicate manner. grogu must be protected, sheltered upon transport, and safely stowed in a location where no one will find him. if @slashaer can assist in this endeavor, her debt will be paid. no owing anything to anyone — no more obligation. that's why the mandalorian takes candy to his ship, opens the door to her, and, with careful, gloved hands, tugs the fabric away from grogu's face and unveils him to her.

"don't let his size deceive you. he is a jedi." a pause. that's the wrong way to put it. din tries again. "i mean... he has their power. the..." what was it called again? the magic he used? "the force." the proper term. "i was sent to collect him. they want him dead, but i..." his helmet turns towards grogu, and the child makes a tiny coo from the safety of his pram. "i couldn't." back to candy. she declares her loyalty and eagerness to help, and in return, she seeks more information. "i don't know where he comes from, but he belongs with his people. with jedi." beneath the visor, din's face scrunches, brows furrowing in deep thought. "you wouldn't happen to know of any jedi, would you?"

that's what he's betting on. candy has been around the galaxy just as much as din has — and probably with a vastly different slew of experience and encounters. maybe in all those adventures, she's stumbled upon someone with the power of the force. all have vanished or gone underground since... the clone wars, right? since the time of the empire. but maybe there are some still around, some who can help grogu find a home. "we need to find a jedi," din reiterates. "will you help me?"

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

More reasons a Battlestar Galactica(1978)/Mandalorian crossover would be hilarious:

Din: So let me get this straight. A race of evil droids-

Galacticans: robots

Din: .... right, robots, called cylons, destroyed your homeworld and are now following you and trying to destroy the rest of your people?

Galacticans: correct.

Din:.... would you like... help?

Galacticans: if you’re offering, then yes.

Din, excited to beat up evil droids: okay! I pledge my service to you then. I can help you blow up ships or retake your planet or-

Galacticans: we’d just really like to get to Earth without dying, thanks.

Din: I don’t know where that is but okay. can I blow up the weird ship following you guys in the meantime?

Galacticans: do you mean the cylon base star?

Din: sure if that’s what that weird looking giant ship behind your fleet is.

Galacticans:.... yes. take Apollo and Starbuck with you.

Absolutely no one in the fleet minds Din not taking off his helmet ever, these guys had TWELVE separate PLANETS worth of people that got along well enough to be united and not fall prey to infighting. They have GOT to be good at diplomacy and being sensitive to cultural things.

The comments Din does get on never taking his helmet off are just from Starbuck being like:

Starbuck: So you can never take that off, huh? That must get annoying, although, it’d be great for gambling.

Din: ....

Starbuck: like man, what a poker face. you could pull any move, no tells!

Apollo: maybe you should try that next time, Starbuck.

Starbuck: yeah maybe I- HEY

Din: *trying not to laugh*

And then medical concerns:

Apollo: so what if your head gets injured and we can’t take your helmet off? what then?

Din: well. you could have a droid give me a bacta spray, that worked once. or my kid might be able to heal me.

Apollo:.... your kid.

Din: he’s healed people before

Apollo: .....

Meanwhile, the children:

Boxy: dad said not to get into trouble

Grogu: *incoherent noises*

Boxy: you’re right, so long as we don’t get caught. c’mon, I think there’s candy in the officer’s mess

Grogu: :D

And:

Boxy, floating six feet off the ground: dad look, I can fly! :D

Apollo, walking by: that’s neat, Boxy

Apollo: wait- *does a double take*

Apollo: BRIDGE WE HAVE A GRAVITY LEAK ON DECK-

Grogu: *giggling in a corner*

---

Apollo: so how did you adopt your kid?

Din: he was a bounty I was supposed to bring in. I ended up rescuing him from the people I delivered him to.

Apollo: Nice, nice. I married Boxy’s mom and she died like a day later, so now I’m raising him on my own.

Din:.... that’s rough, buddy.

*meanwhile said kids are in the background pointing- hopefully inoperative- blasters at each other and pretending to be their dads*

okay, I have to go, but I’m having a lot of fun thinking about this xD

[firstofficerwiggles]

AO3 wrapped!

Respond to this with what you would call the top 5 fanfics you’ve read in 2022. Any genre! Any ship! (Bonus points: if you’re a creator, make this a 5+1 and include your favorite fic you wrote in 2022!)

Then leave this in your friends’ asks too. Let’s give creators one more spotlight before the year ends, and share some of what we’ve enjoyed along the way!

Ok this was not easy because I read some fantastic fics this year because you are so insanely talented. Here is my list:

First Class to Tatooine by @mandosmistress

This is an amazing Din x Female Reader fic that was so perfect to read after Din returned in the Book of Boba Fett. That's the link to the first chapter, but definitely do yourself a favor and read the whole thing.

Sins of the Father by @imabeautifulbutterfly

This is a multi-chapter epic of Din x Female OC who is an absolute badass. It's a great story that will make you cheer, yell, and cry your eyes out. The link is to the masterlist for the fic.

Grogu’s Day at the Beach (not the official title) by @grogusmum

Grogusmum writes the absolute cutest stories ever in Grogu’s voice, and you should absolutely read them right away. Grogu is full of sass and sweetness, and you will adore it!

Deeply Devoted by @wheresarizona

A very touching Din x Female Reader fic that I just adored for its sweetness and passion. If you know me you know I'm a sucker for Din being a sweetheart.

Candy Girl by @lady--kenobi

The very spicy tale of a sex worker and the Coruscant Guard. I have to say before this fic, I really didn't care for Commander Fox at all, but this story made me change my mind. Link is to the Masterlist.

Grogu’s Teacher by me

This fic started as a silly conversation between me and the wonderful @boomtowngirl and then somehow turned into a multi-chapter fic. If you like fluff and pure romance, I hope you enjoy this Din x Female Reader fic 💕

[burnwater13]

Grogu Story links in AO3

A few people have asked and at least one very recently, if I had something that could show the timeline of all the stories I write with my OC Ta'lan Bet and of course with Grogu and Din Djarin. So here it is. Sort Of.

The first list shows the Ta'lan Bet stories. I have written more content for her, I just haven't posted it. If you want to see them, let me know. Not all of her content is for general consumption.

Then a Mandalorian story of how the Darksaber was brought back to the Jedi Temple. It was a request from another reader. I have more like it if you want to read them. Let me know and I will post them.

Then I have the stories that involve Grogu, Din Djarin and Ta'lan Bet. They are shown in order. These are set after the events of the TV series (so far) and cover a lot of territory.

Finally, finally, if you have a story suggestion, or think an existing story could use another chapter, or you need an explainer, let me know. There is a file that provides some background for Ta'lan Bet, the Brethren, Seb, etc.

I will post a list of links to the other content when I have more time. I still have to write somethings today.

This is the Way!

Ta’lan Bet Stories

When Ta'lan Bet meets the Mandalorian on Ordo(1,592 words) 

Ta'lan Bet Gains and Loses a Partner (6,335 words) 

Ta'lan Bet Travels to Corellia to Pick up Some Armor(15,715 words) 

Ta'lan Bet Meets Maz Kanata and The Mandalorian on Takodana (17,200 words) 

The Last Time Din Djarin Met Mira Ost (6,804 words) 

When Fennec Shand met Mira Ost (1,719 words) 

Mandalorian Stories:

Returning the Darksaber - A Mandalorian Tale(20,964 words) 

Grogu Stories in a timeline w/ Ta’lan Bet (Mira Ost)

How Grogu met Ta'lan Bet (23,331 words) 

1

Grogu Has Questions (17,024 words) 

2

Ta'lan Bet takes Din Djarin and Grogu to Krownest(49,569 words) 

3

Bounties R Us (755 words) 

4

Grogu watches the clouds float by (1,390 words) 

5

Grogu meets Ben Solo (31,080 words) 

6

Grogu and Din Look for a new ship (5,306 words) 

7

Grogu and The Mandalorian Visit Tzura (5,474 words) 

8

Grogu Makes a 'Fresher (4,761 words) 

9

Fishing with Grogu (4,075 words) 

10

Grogu and Din Build a Treehouse (13,592 words) 

11

Grogu and Din look for naming day presents (4,754 words) 

12

Grogu and Fennec Make a Move (4,721 words) 

13

Grogu Goes Pod Racing (35,150 words) 

14

Grogu and The Mandalorian go to Canto Bight (4,743 words) 

15

Grogu goes to the Beach with Boba Fett and Fennec Shand (6,286 words) 

16

Grogu has family time (9,705 words) 

17

Grogu sees his parents again (4,388 words) 

18

Grogu and Peli Barbecue Frogs? (2,838 words) 

19

Grogu and the Swear Jar (1,399 words) 

20

Grogu and the 'Swear' Garden (3,280 words) 

21

Grogu trains with Din Djarin (1,445 words) 

Grogu Stories (After Grogu meets Ta’lan Bet (Mira Ost))

22

Grogu and the Night of a Thousand Tales (8,549 words) 

23

Grogu and the Tooth Garden (1,891 words) 

24

Grogu Goes to the Annual Hoth Snow Festival (1,948 words) 

25

Grogu and the Egg (3,849 words) 

26

Grogu and Candy Shop (3,512 words) 

27

Grogu Visits Lothal Finally (19,345 words) 

28

Grogu Rides the Gravity Waves at Iego (2,992 words) 

29

Din makes Grogu Toothpaste (1,566 words) 

30

Grogu goes to the Sorgan Harvest Festival (9,417 words) 

31

Grogu shows Din Djarin how to Swim (17,455 words) 

32

Grogu's Mission to Endor (7,308 words) 

33

Grogu Meets the Monks of B'omarr (5,194 words) 

33.1

Grogu Runs Away (2,517 words) 

34

Grogu and Sqwak Catch a Mandalorian (2,992 words) 

35

Grogu Gets a Pair of Goggles (2,740 words) 

36

Grogu Meets the Dust Bunnies of the B'omarr (3,472 words) 

37

Grogu and the Water Sprites (2,898 words) 

38

Grogu Builds A Lightsaber (5,737 words) 

39

Din Djarin Gets the Flu (3,157 words) 

40

The Mandalorian Reads a Bedtime Story (1,586 words)  

41

Grogu goes to Coruscant (2,408 words) 

42

Cast of Characters in Ta'lan Bet and Grogu FanFic(1,187 words) 

[djarinova]

cotton candy and raspberry swirl!! ৲( ᵒ ૩ᵕ )৴♡*

thank you for sending this!! ♡‿♡ im going to answer this one with me and din in mind bec i feel like i dont talk about him enough and i adore him so much:(

cotton candy: post the last picture of your F/O that you saved!

tehehe i wanted to see adorable photos of din and baby grogu (and yes i am claiming these photos as mine, i took them, and i have printed them out and framed them)

raspberry swirl: how does your F/O cheer you up when you are feeling down?

oh din:( bless his heart but he was so terrible at cheering me up when we first met, he really was just this emoji personified 🧍gkztissgjkxg but hes so much better now! and hes much more relaxed around me, which is good tehehe hes definitely a physical touch guy when it comes to comforting me or cheering me up, but even though its his go to way of comforting hes still oddly embarrassed about initiating it, which always puts a smile on my face bec its very cute to see him all embarrassed and fumbling over what he wants to say. he likes to sit with me, often silently, and just run his hands up and down my arm rhythmically, or he'll gently play with the ends of my hair. when I'm feeling particularly sad or upset he tries to think up ways of distracting me too! he talks about his adventures, about how he fixes parts of the ship, i love listening to him talk about the most random of things—even if i dont understand it, his voice always cheers me up. he'll even sometimes talk about us, and our relationship—how his feelings grew and changed as he got to know me, and this always manages to pull a smile onto my face bec its so rare to hear him talk about us before we were us. he definitely prefers physical touch kind of comforting over everything else, and he knows i just appreciate his presence next to me, and feeling his hands around me really helps ground me and uggg i feel like i could talk about this all day

i feel like i answered that last one kind of off topic... but yk<3 its fine<3

questions from this selfship ask game!!