Skyrim-dao-fanatic - #MyMood - Tumblr Blog

summary: tim fucks you in the back of his squad car.

warnings: 18+ mdni. not overtly filthy. just a possessive, stressed out detective.

author's note: with all the tim content being reblogged lately, i had to write a little something.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

It was hurried, messy, and vulgar.

Your hands press against the windows of Tim’s squad car, leaving fog-stained prints as a rush of hazy delirium surges and fills your brain. Your head hangs heavy, swaying with every brutal shove of his hips as he thrusts his cock deeper into your soaked core. 

Cramped and unromantic, yet recklessly needed. 

Tim never stops. Once he sets his mind to something, he follows through. End of story. Much like the murder case he was in charge of. Long days turned into late nights. Tim was stretching himself thin, desperate to catch the killer before they struck again; stress consumed him.

You knew he needed to clear his mind, let loose, so to speak, and unravel the ties that kept him bound.

He splays his weight over your spine, bending you in the tight confines of the car and kneeling precariously on the leather seats meant to bring criminals to justice. His chin hooks over your shoulder, and a fractured breath fans across your cheek before he playfully nibbles your jaw. 

The leather holster that frames his broad shoulders creaks with every voracious movement. He can’t get enough. He wants to bury himself as deeply as possible, taste and feel every inch you offer.

Large hands paw hungrily at your body, frantic and greedy as he cants his hips roughly, spearing you in half. 

Slick drips down your thighs as his pace falters. Your cunt swirls and hugs his cock, dragging him to the edge with every lewd moan that falls from your tongue as your pleasure mounts.

He sucks in a sharp breath as pleasure envelops him. Worn hands latch onto your hips as his body tenses, and a depraved groan rumbles through his chest. Half moons decorate your skin as he pumps you full of his release. Like a good detective, he needs to see this through. He doesn’t stop until you’re gasping and writhing against him, and your body is taut from the insatiable bliss.

Private Dick

Tim Rockford x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11.8k Warnings: Plus size female reader with anxiety and internalized fatphobia/dysphoria. Tim is divorced with a shitty ex. Food/alcohol. Biting, fingering, shower sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, blink and you'll miss it vague reference to a pregnancy kink, brief mention of body shaming/bullying, a lot of talk about one character being vegan. SO MUCH FLUFF. Supportive love is a wonderful thing. Summary: Things are getting serious with your boyfriend, and that means that it's time for your anxiety to come out to play. But if there's one amazing thing about Tim, it's how much he cares. Notes: We just really needed some supportive fluff and hot smut this week, guys. I don't know what else to say ❤💛🧡

“So uh, there’s gonna be a get together at my mom’s house this weekend.” Tim fastens his watch and looks around for the toothpick that he had set down. He swears he has to lay off the pepper beef, the shit always gets trapped in his teeth, but every time they order from Happy Dumplings for the office, he gets the same thing. Standing up, he slides his boxers back up over his hips and looks over his shoulder. “I might have told her that I would bring you.”

"You told your mom about me?" You were halfway out of his bed and hunting around the floor of his bedroom for your panties when he said it and your head snaps up to look at him. God, the man really has a fantastic little ass.

“Well…yeah.” Tim frowns as he reaches for his pants. “She tried to set me up with some chick from her church, says I need a good woman to take care of me.” He snorts, remembering how his ex-wife used to say she would take care of him until the late nights and crushing pressure of the job had sent her into Tommy Litchfield’s bed. The divorce hadn’t been pretty and he had seen the kids four weeks out of the year. “Figured we had been…. seeing each other long enough, so I told her.”

It's been almost seven months since you and Tim started seeing each other, as he puts it, and you know the time right down to the day. Six months, three weeks, and one day. That was the best accidental first date of your life, and even though his job is demanding, you don't mind. You have hobbies and friends - your family and your own job - all to deal with. Time with him has been the icing on the proverbial cake. Hell, the first time he called you his girlfriend was barely a month ago and you had nearly giggled yourself silly, still in that first blush of happiness in your relationship. "So...what kind of get together is this?" Your panties had gotten hooked on his bedpost and you delicately pull them down with a smothered snort. "Should I be dressing up or are jeans okay?"

“Backyard party.” He tells you. “My brother-in-law pretends he can grill worth a shit, while he gets drunk off his ass.” Tim chuckles. “We eat burnt hamburgers that a dog wouldn’t touch while the kids play in the pool. Or just lounge around it and bitch now that they are older.”

"The kids...as in...your kids?" You know the rundown - the divorce, the custody negotiations, all the bullshit that he went through ten years ago. His ex-wife had been awarded primary custody of his then ten-year-old twins and she had barely allowed him to see them each year since. In fact, he had gotten to see his niece and nephew a hell of a lot more, and as such he has a pretty good relationship with them as adults.

“Yeah.” He shrugs into his shirt and starts to button it up. He has to go back to the office to go through witness statements. Barely getting enough time for lunch and a quickie, he hopes that you aren’t tired of him yet. “They are home for the weekend from college.”

"Okay." Your agreement is instant, although it's muffled somewhere inside your dress as you pull it back over your head. Both of your lunch breaks are almost over and you both have to get back to your offices. "Yeah. Count me in. Absolutely." Well...this is gonna be all you think about until the weekend...

“Good.” He flashes you a grin when your head pops through your dress and he reaches for the gun that’s on the nightstand to loop back through his belt. “Make sure you bring your bathing suit.”

"I don't—" Oh god...that's right...he mentioned a pool. A quiet panic wraps itself around your heart and squeezes your chest, and you duck down to find your shoes so he won't see it in your eyes. "Uh—right. Bathing suit. Got it." You'll just have to pretend you forgot when the day comes, that's all. No harm there. Just silly and forgetful old you.

“Fuck, we need a longer lunch break.” Tim grumbles, stepping over to zip up your dress and he kisses the back of your neck. “Want me to come over tonight if it’s not too late?”

"I always want you to come over," you admit softly. He really does have that effect on you - always reducing you to a puddle of a grown-ass-woman when he's sweet and affectionate like this. "Baked pasta for dinner? I can warm you up a plate if it's late when you get out." There are strains of real domesticity in your relationship and you like that it's stayed functional. You're separate people with separate lives, but they're starting to fuse together in little ways.

“I love your pasta.” He admits, reminding himself that you are far too good for him and despite the fact that he was often beaten up by his workload and the grim reality he deals with on a daily basis, you are becoming a safe haven for him. “But if it’s too late, I just want to slip into bed with you.” He admits. “Wrapping my arms around you and falling asleep.”

"Here..." Your purse is sitting on his bureau against the wall by the door, and you pad over to it to pull out your keys. It's a great big, giant gesture to make, but you unclip your house key from the ring and cross the room again to hold it out to him. "I think we're both adult enough to make this step, don't you?" There's a spare key in a little ceramic rock positioned specifically in your front garden that will make its way onto your key ring when you get home, but you want to make this step. You want to show Tim that you're serious about him – especially if he wants you to meet his family this weekend.

He frowns at the key as he looks down at it, noticing the logo of the manufacturer. “I’m going to change your locks this weekend too.” He decides with a grunt. “These locks are shit.”

Even as you’re rolling your eyes, you can’t help but smile. His way of showing affection isn’t always obvious, but you’ve learned to see the signs. “Just take the key, baby. Accept the gesture and take the key.”

“Here.” He digs into his pocket for his own key ring. There’s already a spare on his other key ring, so he quickly works the key off and hands it to you. “You know, for when you plan to meet me and maybe you need to pee. Or you want to come over and jump me in the middle of the night.” He jokes with a small wink.

“So…for all the time?” It’s less sexy and more awkwardly charming when you throw a wink back at him, and you reach up to give him a kiss. “Come on, sexy. We have jobs to get back to.”

He chuckles and pats your ass he you turn around. “I’ll give you a call, m’kay babe? Let you know about what time I’ll be over.”

"Sounds good." As much as Tim always insists he likes your ass, you always have to bite back a small frown when he pats it - there's just too much of it. Too much of you in general. Nope...don't go down that road right now...just check your reflection in the mirror to make sure your hair is okay and reapply your lipstick before you get back to the office. You'll be fine. "See you tonight, baby."

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He promises, watching you walk towards your car with a small grin on his face. While he had made mistakes, been married to his job for too many years, he was trying to do right by you. Wanting this new relationship to work. He’s crazy about you and he can’t wait for you to meet his family.

******

It's four excruciating days of worry until the day of the get-together at Tim's mother's house is finally here. He came over late last night after an interrogation and climbed into your bed to wrap himself around you and fuck both of you into exhaustion. To that end, he is still asleep upstairs while you putter in the kitchen. Coffee made, a pan of apple cobbler in the oven and whipped cream made from coconut cream because he had told you months ago that one of his daughters is vegan. There's a great big container of cold peanut noodles with all kinds of veggies in your fridge, too. All that nervous energy you have has gone into cooking, and you frown behind your coffee cup when you remind yourself that habits like this are why you hate looking at yourself in the mirror.

Tim has gotten used to waking up in your bed, probably far faster than he should have, but there is a connection with you that he hasn't felt in a long time. So it doesn't take long for his hand to seek out your soft, warm skin in his sleep. He had pulled your nightgown off of you and tossed it on the floor, both of you staying naked after he had fucked you. His frown precedes his eyes opening when he finds nothing but the cool spot on the bed where you should have been. Where did you go?

Heavy footsteps on the stairs are your giveaway, and you pour a cup of black coffee for Tim after turning down the volume on your music yet again. “Morning, handsome.”

"Why didn't you wake me?" He squints at the bright light, your curtains and blinds already opened. He could kiss you when you offer the coffee and he does, reaching for you to pull you close for a quick kiss to thank you.

“It was early.” Even though you shrug apologetically, the kiss is welcome and so is the place in his arms. “And you work hard, so you deserve the sleep.”

He hums and rubs your back softly. "Would rather spend time with you." He kisses your forehead and then pulls back, taking a sip of his coffee. "It smells good in here." Standing in your kitchen in his boxers should look odd, but it feels normal. He's been here enough that he knows the layout pretty well.

“I made my apple cobbler that you like…” you admit with a sheepish shrug of your shoulders. “But I made it vegan so your daughter can have some. And…my peanut noodle recipe is vegan anyway, so that’s in the fridge.” He had insisted that you didn’t need to make anything to bring to his mother’s house today but here you are, cooking up a storm.

It takes a moment for that to register and then he's sighing softly. "You are too good, you know that?" He asks, setting the coffee cup down again so he can pull you in for another kiss. "I – you are amazing and thoughtful." He knows he wouldn't have even thought about making something for Zara. Not because he's neglectful, but because he wouldn't even know where to begin making something vegan. "Everyone is going to love you."

“I hope so.” You’re not naive enough to think that his grown kids will automatically love their father’s girlfriend for any reason, and you’ve got just enough in the way of self-esteem issues to be worried. But you fully intend to make the best impression possible today.

"Do you want to shower?" He asks, smirking slightly. "I brought my overnight bag." He routinely keeps a bag in the trunk of his car in case of overnight cases and needing a change of clothes. "We can swing by my apartment to change into something more casual on the way."

"I keep telling you to put clothes in that overnight bag." The offer of a shower is tempting, though, and you glance at the timer on the oven. "The pan comes out of the oven in two minutes. Then I'm all yours."

"I do have clothes in the bag." He grumbles at you. "Work clothes." He watches as you move gracefully around your kitchen, admiring the way you work so efficiently. There's a small smile on your lips that he's pretty damn sure you aren't even aware that you have, but it makes you look even sexier in his eyes.

"Then we'll stop at your apartment on the way." His divide between work clothes and civilian clothes is stark, and you don't begrudge him that for one second. You certainly have two sections of your closet, and hardly ever wear work clothes on the weekends.

The timer goes off and he smiles, sipping his coffee as you rush over to pull the pan out. "Now it's my time." He growls playfully, setting down the cup and moving behind you as you set it down on the oven mitt.

Even as he hauls you backward you have the urge to remind him not to try to pick you up. Thick thighs and too much tummy and saggy arms that you hate are too much for his perpetually bad back and knees after decades on the force. "Come on, handsome," you laugh softly when he presses a kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. "Let's go take that shower."

The softness of your ass against his groin makes his cock start to harden. Making him groan as he pushes it into you with a suggestive thrust. "Mhmmmm, we could get dirty first." He chuckles and nips at your pulse. "Or would you rather I fuck you in the shower?"

"I thought that's what showers are for?" Your shower, anyway. The cramped space in his apartment is no good for anything but being functional. Your house, however, has a large shower stall with excellent water pressure and a separate overlarge tub in the master bath. It had been half the reason for buying the house in the first place.

"That's what should happen in every shower we take." He groans, smirking into your skin before he pulls away to take your hand. "What do you think, baby?"

"I think you're a menace," you tease, lacing your fingers through his. "And I am absolutely here for it."

He laughs as he walks a step behind you up the stairs, still holding onto your hand and cannot resist slapping your ass with his other when you move up an extra step and it's in his face. "Fuck, I love your ass." He grunts.

Too big, your dysphoria supplies immediately, and you're glad he can't see your face as you climb the stairs together. You've never been skinny but it seems like since you got past your thirtieth birthday, everything got a little bigger out of protest. Everything except your tits. "I'm glad you like it," you manage, hoping you sound bright and teasing.

"Next time I have you on your stomach, I'm going to bite it." He threatens playfully, slapping it again right as you reach the top of the stairs. His cock twitches at the thought and he’s halfway toying with the idea of seeing if you would let him fuck your ass. It's not been talked about, and he's not just going to ask.

"Wouldn't be the first time you left teeth marks in me." That actually makes you laugh, remembering the first time your best friend had noticed the imprint of Tim's pearly whites when you had gone to her house after leaving his place. It was how she found out you were seeing someone, and you hadn't lived it down for weeks.

His growl catches in his throat and his hand tugs you back, spinning you around and pressing you up against the wall so he can kiss you again. This thing with you has progressed to the point where those three little words dance in his head when he is thinking of you. Still not quite voiced, they are there. Making him crave you even more when he has you nearby and he transfers that into the pressing of your lips together.

It's a sigh and a muffled groan from you, and your arms come up around his neck easily to encourage him to take whatever he wants. He's fucking irresistible and while you still can't quite grasp why he seems to want you, you're not going to question it and ruin the best adult relationship you've ever had. You're almost grateful to the idiot that broke into your office building and caused all of you to have to make statements to the police.

You had seemed to think that you needed to wear fancy lingerie when he first started sleeping with you, but the loose nightgowns you wear now are just as sexy and far easier to access. Thankful that you had taken his word and started wearing them to bed at night. His hands plunging underneath so he can cup your tit, his other hand twisting to slide into your panties as he groans into your mouth.

Tim's fingers are thick and nimble, and you never would have thought gun callouses could be sexy until you felt them slide through your pussy the first time. The hand fully encompassing one of your tits squeezes in earnest and you groan, hips already rocking against his other hand. "Fuck, Tim."

“That’s it, baby.” He grunts, kissing down your jaw and biting your ear. “Fucking love how wet you get. Pussy is gushing for me.”

Broad shoulders, broad chest, thick fingers, quick tongue, a smile that can leave you in a daze. How would you not be absolutely gushing for him? "Always," you sigh out, breath catching when he curls his fingers against your g-spot expertly. "Need you so bad, baby."

“Just what I want to hear.” His cock pulses against your soft belly and he wants nothing more than to lift you up and fuck you against this wall. Except you would squawk the entire time to put you down. Instead, he pumps his fingers diligently, eager to make you cum so he can fuck you in the shower.

The press of those thick digits inside of you has you gasping and clinging to him as he thrusts two fingers inside of you, adding a third to make you squeal and shake even harder. His eagerness makes perfect sense considering you weren't in bed beside him when he woke up, and you let your forehead drop forward to his bicep as you ride his fingers closer and closer to cumming right there in the hallway of your little house.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” He asks, always loving when you come apart for him. It’s a gorgeous sight. “Gonna soak my fingers? Squeeze them tight?”

"I—fuck—" Three fingers in your cunt and his thumb against your clit is too much all at once in the best way possible, and you're nodding against his arms as that tingling feeling at the base of your spine explodes and you start to shake apart. For a man who claims not to have dated a lot and have been rusty on intimacy when you had first gotten together, he never lost that muscle memory of how to be an amazing lover.

“So fuckin’ pretty when you cum.” He coos in your ear, feeling your cunt sucking his fingers in deep and starting to squeeze them. “Cum for me baby.”

Your fingernails bite into his arms as you grasp him tightly, entire body tensing completely before falling apart completely – flooding his hand with cum and slumping backward against the wall so you aren't too heavy on his arm. "Goddamn, baby..." you pant with a small giggle when you can breathe again, the orgasm exploding like shooting stars behind your still closed eyes.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you.” He feels the slick coating his fingers and wants to sink inside your quivering cunt. “Shower?”

“Shower.” It doesn’t matter that your legs are jelly, you can make it ten more feet into the bathroom. Your nightgown is pulled off of you before you hit the door, and his own boxers pushed down and kicked off. Leaving you in your panties as he opens the glass door to turn the shower on.

“Just what I needed today.” You’re only half teasing as you strip off your panties and toss them in the nearby laundry basket. “To be freshly fucked when I meet your family.”

He grunts, crowding you into the shower when you climb in and turning you around to face the wall. “You want to talk to my mama with a load of my cum in your pussy?” He grins, biting your neck again. “I can make that happen.”

“You can’t just say shit like that to me.” It earns him another moan and you back your ass up against his hips eagerly. “It’s gonna be all I can think about all day.”

“Good.” He chuckles roughly as his hands grip your hips and he presses closer. His cock folding up against his body and pressing into the cleft of your ass insistently. “It’s gonna be all I think about too. Imagining you dripping. Licking you clean.”

“Gonna have to slip away to your old room to get handsy.” You tease, knowing that his mother still lives in the house he grew up in.

“Fucked my first girl in that bed.” He grunts, silently acknowledging that it would be fitting that he fucks his last girl there too.

“Gonna make me another notch on that bedpost, Rockford?” You grin over your shoulder at him as his hands knead your ass. “I bet it was some homecoming queen. Or cheerleader. Do baseball games have cheerleaders?”

“Sometimes.” He smirks and shakes his head. Aware that you have some notion that he was some kind of stud when he was younger. “But maybe that new notch will be fun.” He poses as he rocks his hips back to take his cock in his hand.

"Getting you all riled up until you fuck me is always fun." All of Tim is thick. From his muscled limbs and shoulders that test the limits of store-bought shirts, all the way to his cock. The feeling of his head pushing your pussy open makes you moan, and you brace yourself against the wall of the shower for him to take as much as he wants from you. There's a certain amount of bliss involved in being intimate with Tim and you can usually push away your insecurities in favour of seeing - and feeling - just how much he enjoys touching you. Right now, the thoughts drop away and the only thing left is yes and more and oh god.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck.” He groans as he splits you in two. “I fucking love this pussy.” His breath is heavy in your ear and he rolls his hips until he is buried deep. “Perfect, baby, you’re fucking perfect.”

Perfect. Nobody had ever called you that before, and you had instinctively laughed the first time Tim had used the word. Since then you've tried to be a little kinder with yourself, and accept that just because you don't think you're perfect doesn't mean that he can't think so. "Just for you," you groan happily, reaching back to squeeze his hip. "Only for you, baby."

His lips trail over your skin and he can’t help but continue to kiss you. Loving how you clutch him deep inside your body and the softness of you against him. Reaching for your hands, he laces his fingers with yours and lays them against the wall, sliding his feet closer.

The cold tile against your front and Tim's hot skin at your back is an intense combination that you love – an extra reason to moan with every thrust. His body seems to cover every inch of you, enveloping you in his presence, and it's almost hard to move except to grind back against him every time he fills you up. It's a gorgeous feeling that you so easily get lost in.

“Fuck, how does it get better?” He pants into your ear. “Every fucking time, you feel even better. Addicted to you.”

"Perfect." He is the perfect one, and you won't hear anything to the contrary, panting out words with every slap of his hips against your ass. "Perfect cock. Perfect fuck. Perfect man. I—" For a moment, in your rapture, the words almost slip. Thank god you manage to swallow them quickly. "So good, baby."

“I know you’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you?” He asks, rocking his hips forward to slap against your ass as he picks up his pace.

“Just like that.” You know it won’t take long now, not if he goes just a tiny bit harder like he does when he gets close, and the begging in your voice always gets him, too. Every time. “So fucking perfect, baby. Please let me cum fo—oh fuck— so close!”

Tim hisses, squeezing your hands as he rocks up into the balls of his feet. Thrusting harder into you. “Yessss, fuck, cum for me baby.”

Bearing down on his length this time, you can practically feel his pulse through the prominent veins of his cock as they scrub against your walls. The pressure is just as perfect as the rest of him and before you know it there are stars erupting behind your eyes.

Tim groans your name when he feels you start to cum. Loving how you whine and whimper as he works you through it. Sex with you has been amazing and he hadn’t been lying when he said it just kept getting better. When that final thrust comes and you are pressed tight between Tim and the tile, the feeling of his pulsing cock filling you full of sticky cum scratches that very private, very secret dream you have of one day actually having a family with this man, and you shiver a little with personal satisfaction when he groans your name into your skin one last time.

“God.” He pants, knowing that while he’s fucking you isn’t the right time to say those words for the first time. “So good baby.”

Laughing under your breath, you groan happily and let your weight go against the wall just to feel him slump against you. “Hell of a way to start the day,” you tease.

“Should start the day this way every morning.” He laughs along with you. “Don’t you think so?”

“Why do you think I gave you a key?” Twisting around just enough to kiss him, you hum against his lips and sigh happily.

He snorts and kisses you again. “So I should just swing into the house every morning as I go into work?” He asks playfully.

The impulse is there. The invitation right on the tip of your tongue. But it’s too soon. Way too soon. He doesn’t even know how you really feel about him yet — so telling him he could just give up his tiny bachelor pad and move in with you would probably send him running for the hills. “So you can stay over whenever you want,” is how you phrase it instead, hoping that that doesn’t sound overbearing or overeager.

“Don’t tell me that.” He warns you. “Your bed is softer than mine and it has the added bonus of having you in it. You’ll get tired of me.”

“No, I won’t.” The answer is too quick. You know that, but you can’t help it. Slowly turning around, the unfortunate side effect of losing his warmth as his quickly softening cock slips out of you is replaced by the benefit of getting to look him in the eyes. “I—I won’t get sick of you, baby.”

He nudges his nose against yours gently and sighs softly. “I hoped that I would make it a little more romantic than this.” He grumbles quietly,

“A little more romantic than being snuggly after sex?” You ask incredulously. Sure you’re not wrapped up in the blankets right now, but it’s still the same feeling.

“Something more romantic than shower sex to tell you that I love you.” Tim tells you quietly. “I’m not good with words or romance.”

When you deflate in front of him it’s out of pure shock, but you push off from the wall instantly to drag him down for a kiss. “I love you, too,” you promise him in that same hushed voice. “I have for—for months.” Since the night that he braved taking you to an Indian restaurant and got through an entire dinner before you found yourselves in the middle of a music festival in the park and he tried to sneak grabbing a hot dog because he didn’t want to admit to you that he didn’t like the restaurant you said you love. “I love you so much.”

He sighs in relief, pressing his forehead against yours and chuckling with joy. “Good. I was afraid I was rushing things. Or reading too much into the amazing sex we have.”

“I don’t think seven months before the first mention of love is anybody’s definition of rushing, baby.” Placing a kiss over his heart, you can’t help the way you grin from ear to ear when you look up at him. “But you’re right about the sex being really fucking good.”

“Yes, it is.” He agrees with a roguish wink. “Now we just need to clean up.” The functional portion of the shower never takes long. You’re both well established in your habits and are clean again in under ten minutes, leaving you to towel off on the bathroom rug together in no time. “So I was thinking that after my mom’s, I could stay tonight?” He asks, keeping his tone casual. “Since I’ll be dropping you off and I have a full weekend off for once?”

“I’m gonna call up your captain and tell him I have you handcuffed to my bed,” you joke, careful to keep yourself covered even while you’re drying off from the shower. It's a habit, and even if he’s just been inside you that’s no reason to force him to look at your whole blob-like body. “He can’t have you back until Monday. Girlfriend’s orders.”

“Careful now.” He warns with a grin. “I might like be handcuffed to your bed.” He’s never really thought about using his handcuffs, despite the ribald jokes from other detectives, but if you wanted to, he would let you. He trusts you.

“You? Give up control?” Raising one eyebrow at him in the mirror, you scoff playfully. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I thought you like when I’m in control?” He asks with a smirk. “But for you? I’d do it.”

“The perfume I wear is literally called ‘Good Girl’,” you laugh, motioning to the stiletto-shaped bottle on your bathroom shelf. “Of course I like it when you’re in charge.”

“That’s the stuff I like?” He asks, intrigued by the name. He never knows that kind of stuff, just that you smell amazing and he always wants to rip your clothes off when he smells it.

“Yup. The little bottle shaped like a high heel.” It’s your treat to yourself. Designer perfume makes you feel a little less like a fat girl playing dress up when you get ready to see Tim or go out with friends, and a little bit more like a full-grown woman. It’s silly, but if that’s what does it, then you can’t be too mad about it.

“I will have to buy you another bottle of that when you get low.” He hums, making a mental note of it. “It smells incredible on you.”

You won’t quibble with him now over the fact that it’s pricey or anything like that. It’s the gesture that counts, and the fact that you’re getting a little bit closer each and every day. “I don’t know how well it goes with chlorine.” With one little joke, you seize the chance in front of you. “Maybe I’ll abstain from swimming today.” No swimming means no swimsuit, which means no having to be partially undressed in front of his family.

Tim sends you a pout. “Nooo, I’m looking forward to getting into the pool with you.” He huffs, eager to see you in your bathing suit and watch you bask in the sun.

“It’s okay,” you insist, trying to play it off like it doesn’t matter at all. “Maybe next time.”

Tim frowns slightly when he realizes that you are serious and you will not be getting into the pool. “Yeah sure.” He nods. “Next time.” He agrees before he moves over to the sink to brush his teeth and shave.

“Okay.” He’s upset. He’s upset with you, and your mind goes straight to the worst possible scenario which is obviously that he’s going to break up with you over it. A lifetime of trying to deal with low self-esteem and self-worth issues but still you go straight to the worst-case scenario sometimes. “Gonna go get dressed,” you mumble quickly, retreating from the room still wrapped entirely in towels, as fast as your feet will carry you.

Tim sighs, wondering where he went wrong this morning. It had been going so well but Trina had continuously accused him of putting his foot in his mouth or being insensitive. He had been trying so hard with you and yet he can tell you’re upset. He looks in the mirror and shakes his head. “Don’t fuck this up.” He orders himself with a groan.

The warm Southern climate means swimming happens all the time, but it’s still October so you put on a light cardigan with your sundress and sandals and try to keep yourself from crying and making your eyes red before you leave the house. The last thing you need is to show up to meet his kids and his mother with bloodshot eyes. “Don’t fuck this up,” you chastise yourself, opening the dresser drawer that holds your one swimsuit just to stare at it for a minute in loathing.

“Baby?” Tim had retreated downstairs once he had dressed, sure that you needed some time to yourself. “Are you ready?” Are you still coming?

“Yeah! One second!” Out of some kind of masochistic instinct, you grab your bathing suit and cram it into your tote bag when you snag it off your dresser and rush downstairs. Clothes, jewelry, make up, all of it is in place to try to make the most positive first impression possible. “Sorry, I—” You immediately focus on getting the food packed up into a reusable shopping bag. “I almost forgot to put on perfume. Stupid, right? After we just were talking about it?”

“That’s okay.” Tim approaches you slowly from behind and he gently takes hold of your waist. “You still smell great even without it.” He promises, leaning in and kissing your shoulder. Offering a silent apology.

“Do I look okay?” It’s silly to be worried. You’re a grown woman and he’s a grown man. But you’re terrified and determined not to fuck up again today.

“You look stunning.” He promises you. “If I hadn’t promised my mother that we would be there, I would keep you here and take you back upstairs to show you how pretty you look.”

“Okay.” Nodding twice, your head hangs between your shoulders for a second before you force yourself to straighten up and take the bag full of food from the counter. “Ready when you are.”

“Are you sure you want to go?” He asks, concerned that he is pushing too fast. It seems like you’re forcing yourself to go.

“Of course I’m sure.” The brightness in your voice isn’t entirely forced. You do want to go, you’re just terrified and self-conscious. And from the look on his face, he knows something is wrong. “I’m just—” Your eyes drop and so do your shoulders. “I’m worried what they’ll think of me, that’s all.”

“Baby.” He shakes his head and sighs softly, happy that he can reassure you. “They are going to love you.” He promises. “Probably love you more than me.”

“They loved Trina.” You’ve seen plenty of his pictures of his ex-wife. Their wedding pictures, especially, and even how skinny she managed to get back to being after having their twins. She’s stunning, and successful, and smart. And you’re a dumpy little nobody who sits behind a desk and definitely never goes to the gym. “I’m not like her. At all.”

“That’s a good thing.” He promises, chuckling at how ridiculous it would be to date someone like his ex.

You let out a half-laugh, huffing at yourself, and shake your head slightly. It sounds so stupid to say it out loud, but here you are in the middle of your kitchen about to break apart at the seams over a first meeting. “She—she’s prettier than me.” In every sense, in your opinion. But especially, she’s skinnier.

Tim frowns and vehemently shakes his head. “That is not true.” He argues. “And it doesn’t matter how pretty she is, she is my ex-wife.” He reminds you. “She left me. Took my kids from me.”

“Right.” Blinking back the impending tears that will ruin your makeup and the mood, you nod your head and take a steadying, if shaky, breath. “Right. I know that. I’m sorry. I’m just—I’m being stupid.”

“You aren’t being stupid.” He huffs, hating how you belittle yourself. You are kind and generous to everyone but yourself. “It is just nerves, right? This is a big step and I’m sure I’ll be shitting myself when I meet your folks.”

“It’s nerves.” You agree, nodding again and resisting the urge to press on your closed eyes to stop the water behind them. It would smudge the eye makeup you put on so carefully. All waterproof, ironically. But not touched-with-hands proof. “I just don’t—” It is stupid, and a part of you knows that. The part that pays fucking attention in therapy every other week. “I don’t want you to finally realize you’ve been dating a cow if I put on my swimsuit,” you admit quietly.

“A cow?” He growls the comment in surprise, rearing back and wondering where the hell that idea came from. “Who the fuck called you a cow?” He demands, furious and ready to punch someone if they’ve insulted you like that.

“Nobody had to.” Your sister. Your grade school bully. The woman at the department store. A girl at camp. A boy you had a crush on in high school. Your parents. Nobody. Everybody. “I’m just a little anxious. It’s fine. I just won’t have any caffeine the rest of the day and it won’t get worse. Please don’t be upset?”

Tim shakes his head and he reaches up to cup your cheeks. “Baby, put your bag down.” He orders you softly. He doesn’t want to leave this house until he’s truly talked to you, and if that means being late, then he will be late. “Please?”

It only takes a moment of silence between you before you swallow your protest and set your purse and the bag of food back on the counter. This is it. He’s going to dump you for being an idiot. At least you got to tell him you love him before that happened, right?

He guides you over to the chair and sits you down, kneeling in front of it and holding onto your hands. “Baby, I don’t know why you are so hard on yourself.” He starts softly. “But I want you to know how I see you.” He knows self-image is just that, your image of your own self, he can’t change your mind for you. “I see you right now, and you are gorgeous.” He nods, smiling as he looks at you. “Generous, pillowy curves that make my mouth water and my cock ache.” Licking his lips, he continues. “I love the way you feel, the way you taste. I love your heart, your kindness. Your thoughtfulness. Your patience.” He stresses. “You are beautiful, inside and out and I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You say cow, I say stunning, voluptuous goddess that I love.”

“I know that the voice in my head that says these things is intentionally hurting me.” Holding onto his hands like a lifeline, you end up squeezing his fingers in yours. “I’ve been in therapy for enough years to know that. It’s a skewed perspective. But there really are sometimes that I cannot shut it off. It’s like a train going off the tracks,” you explain, hoping he can follow the line of what you’re saying. “I can see the disaster ten feet ahead of me, but it’s too late to stop it. I know I’m going to go headfirst into the worst kind of hating myself, but I can’t stop it from happening.”

“I know what you mean.” He does. He’s seen the department shrink enough times to understand that. It’s like when he blames himself for circumstances beyond his control. “I’m never going to tell you that you are stupid, or dumb for thinking that way.” He promises you. “But I am going to disagree with you, tell you that you are wrong. Because there isn’t one thing about you that I would change.”

"Really?" There's a second where you're too afraid to look up at him, but you can feel Tim's eyes on you and so you raise your head in some kind of silent moment of obedience and it makes you decide to crack a smile and go for a joke. "Not even my broken brain?"

“Not even that.” He smiles at you. “Because I love you, all of you. The good and the negative.” He squeezes your hands gently, “Love you, baby.”

"I love you, too." You lean over to kiss him, half in disbelief that he didn't ask for his key back and walk out your door. "Thank you. For...for listening. And not thinking I'm crazy for overreacting."

He chuckles and leans down to kiss your hand. “Baby, I think you are crazy for putting up with me, not for how you feel.”

"You're amazing, and it's never putting up with you. I love spending time with you." The sigh that comes out of you is deep and long, but you feel better. The weight on your shoulders has lifted, if only for now, and you manage an honest smile. "We should get going, baby. You don't get to see the twins that often and I don't want you to miss a minute of it today."

“Okay.” He waits another moment, searching your eyes and then he pats your thigh gently. “Let’s go. I can quickly change.”

It's a fast enough trip to stop by his apartment on your way to his mother's house, and once he's swapped his work clothes for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, he slides back into the car beside you and you're off to the races again. At this rate you'll be no more than five minutes late, and that is nothing at all.

Driving the familiar route home, he points out places he used to go as a child and then a teenager. Sharing glimpses into his life. Holding his hand in yours as he pulls up to the two-story house that he had been raised in. “I'm right here with you.” He promises, kissing your hand again. “And they will love you.”

"As long as you love me, I'm okay." That's the pep talk you were giving yourself on the way over, and you're feeling a little more settled after the glimpses into his past. You didn't grow up around here so you can't do any such tour for yourself, but it's nice to see a slightly different side of the town you've lived in for years.

“Are you ready?” He asks after he cuts the engine, turning towards you slightly. “Or do you need a minute?”

"Let's do it." If you sit in the car and procrastinate you'll only give the negative thoughts time to come back, so you lean over to kiss him and buck yourself up. "I'm good, baby. I promise."

“You are always good.” He tells you with a wink before he climbs out of the car and hustles around to open your door for you. Taking the dishes you had protected on the way over so you can get out.

There is plenty of noise coming from the backyard of the beautiful little brick house, and the sound of splashing is already obvious along with music playing and people chatting at various volumes. This is definitely a family party, and it seems like the family is already here.

"Uncle Tim!" The call comes up from the pool first, as his nephew catches sight of him first and waves. "Holy shit! Y'all, Uncle Tim actually left his desk!" The teenager teases with a cackling laugh.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tim rolls his eyes in good fun as he waves back. His hand immediately goes back to the small of your back and he slowly guides you forward. “Come on baby, we’ll put up the food inside and then come back out.”

"Holy shit Uncle Tim brought a girl!" A teenage girl's voice calls after you, with as much excitement as shock, and you're in the middle of a fit of giggles when he opens the sliding door to let you into the kitchen from the back porch. "So that's your nephew and niece, huh?" You snort, smothering the sound with one hand even as you try to stop laughing.

“Brats.” He huffs, his sour look simply for show. “You would think I was a ball-less hermit.” He snorts, setting the travel bag for your dishes down and then opens the fridge to see if there’s room.

"Language." His mother's warning tone is playful from around the corner, but she still means it. Foul language stays outside, it doesn't come inside her house. "Timothy Alan, don't make me send you outside if you're going to be vulgar."

“Me?” He points at himself as he exclaims. “They are being vulgar. And I’m the one in trouble?” His question doesn’t stop him from immediately moving around the corner to engulf his mother in a hug. “Hey Ma.” He kisses her cheek and urges her to come into the kitchen. “I brought my girlfriend.”

"They're outside and I can't hear it," his mother teases, blissfully aware of her arbitrary rules and the fact that nobody is actually in any trouble whatsoever. "Honey." She reaches out both hands to you after giving Tim a hug. "He's been hiding you from me knowing I'm gonna steal you away to have a cooking friend again. It is so good to meet you, sweetheart."

"It's really nice to meet you too, Mrs. Rockford." Even as she envelopes you in the same tight hug that Tim got, you look over her shoulder to shoot Tim a surprised expression.

Suzanne Rockford is far from a petite woman. She is sturdy, hearty. Obviously heavier and he has never told you that, honestly believing that it didn’t matter, but now he wonders if he should have. Maybe you would have been less self-conscious if you had known. He shoots you a smile and a half shrug. “Where’s Vanessa?” He asks, looking around for his sister.

"Upstairs, looking for god knows what in the attic? Unless she’s found it already, and then who knows." Suzanne waves one hand and pays that no mind. "Did Tim offer you a drink yet honey?" She asks you, giving you her absolute full attention. "We've got a whole bar out on the back porch, and the fridge under the car port has beer and soda. But I keep the wine in here." Apparently that is a conspiratorial secret, because she waggles her eyebrows at you. "Whatever you want, I'll grab you a cup."

"I'll grab a soda when we go back out," you promise her, not wanting to start drinking too early in the day. According to Tim, his mother's parties are a strictly all-day affair.

“Ma, she brought an apple crisp and a noodle dish. Vegan, for Zara to enjoy.” He tells her, beaming proudly. “Where do you want me to put them?”

"In the fridge, honey. There's room on the bottom shelf." She looks just as proud as he does, and she reaches out to squeeze your hand. "She's doing well with it, you know," she nods authoritatively. "Talked to her doctor about making sure she gets protein and all her vitamins. Doing some really creative cooking, that one. Once she's got her mind set on something, that's it. It's do or die." Suzanne smirks. "Gets that from her Dad."

“I tried some of that vegan cheese.” Tim tells his mom, shuddering slightly. “The sliced stuff is shit, but the shredded stuff actually melts pretty good.”

“What matters is that you tried.” Suzanne nods approvingly. “Have you two gotten to say hi yet?”

“Not yet, we wanted to get the food put up.” He explains, coming back over to kiss his mom’s cheek again. “I’m looking forward to seeing them. Texting when we get a chance sucks.”

“Go introduce everybody,” she encourages, shooting a smile your way before shooing him off. “There’s things to snack on out there already. Lunch in an hour, or whenever Ricky gets that grill going.”

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckles, knowing that Ricky will fight with the grill for at least ten minutes. He moves over to you and takes your hand. “Let’s go see the kids, baby.”

You let him usher you back out into the bright, late morning sun, and for the first time you get a good look at the backyard in its entirety. There are a lot of people here — more than a dozen for sure — and you can hear another car honk as it pulls up in front of the house. The mood is pure happiness and even a tinge of nostalgia, as people greet each other who haven’t seen each other in ages. The air of absolutely everything is positive, and you take a deep breath to bring some of that into you as well.

Tim sees the first one that he wants to introduce you to. “Vanessa!” He half cups his mouth with one hand to shout his sister’s name. “Get your ass over here!”

"Hi to you, too!" His younger sister rolls her eyes and kisses the woman she was talking to on the cheek before hustling across the lawn. She has a beer in her hand and sunglasses on top of her curls, and she has the same stout and strong figure as their mother but with a little bit more grace in her movements.

He lets go of your hand only so he can wrap his arms around his sister and hug her tight. Making her squeal when he squeezes too tight. “How have you been? It’s been a month or so.”

“Yeah, you’ve been busy.” She raises both her eyebrows at you, waggling them for comedic effect, and then promptly nudges her brother away so she can shake your outstretched hand.

“Sorry if I’ve kept him away from you,” you apologize, not ever wanting her to think that you were intentionally keeping Tim away from his family.

“Are you kidding me?” She laughs, giving your hand a squeeze. “It’s fantastic. I’ve barely seen him sulk in months.”

“I don’t sulk.” His lips immediately form a pout as he glares at his sister. “I was gonna be happy to introduce you to my girlfriend, now you can fuck off.” Even though he says that, he immediately tells her your name before pointing at her. “This is Vanessa, the pain in my ass all my childhood.”

"It's really nice to meet you." He's told you a lot about his sister and you already knew she was a ball buster, but meeting her now feels like a relief. They're close and it's fun to see Tim relaxed like this with his family. "Believe it or not he's actually only told me great things about you."

“Oh, I’m sure.” Her tone is sarcastic and she’s rolling her eyes, but her grin gives her away as she transfers her attention from her brother to you. “I’m a hugger.” She warns you before she pulls you in for a less formal greeting than a handshake.

"It's okay, I am too." It's a far sweeter welcome than you expected to get, both from his mom and his sister, and you let yourself squeeze her back just for a second before letting go. "I'm just really excited to meet everyone."

“I was so excited that Tim told Mom he was bringing you.” She tells you with a smirk at her brother. “It’s been forever since he’s introduced us to someone, and she who shall not be named isn’t exactly ‘fun’.” She confides.

"Oh?" Having been under the impression that his family had liked his ex while they were together, you tilt your head curiously. "Well, uh...we figured it was time," you offer with a shrug. "It's been more than a few months, ya know? And...and things have been really good. Tim is just—" You glance back at him and end up grinning. "He's really amazing."

“He’s a good guy.” As much shit as she gives him, she would be the first to defend her brother and she knows he is much the same way. Siblings in the sense that she can tease him but she’ll kick anyone else’s ass who does. “And he talks about you a lot, so I think he likes you.”

"You talk about me?" Yes, sure, he told you he loves you less than two hours ago, but you still soften in surprise hearing that.

“Oh he doesn’t shut up about you.” She insists, smirking wickedly at Tim who looks very interested in the top of his foot in his flip flops. “Asking if he should take you here, talking about your job. I feel like I know you.” She pats your arm. “He told me he didn’t want to fuck this up.”

"Did he tell you about the fundraiser he let me drag him to?" He's blushing and it's the cutest thing you've ever seen, so if you maybe pick out something to talk about that will make his cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red then that's entirely on purpose.

“Nooooooo.” Vanessa lights up and is nearly about to bust for information. “My brother? At a fundraiser?” She sounds positively scandalized, as if she could never imagine such a thing.

"The nonprofit I work for has dinner dances and black-tie events during the year." You explain, feeling Tim shift self-consciously next to you in the grass even though he's smiling. "He's actually been to two of them now."

“You got my brother to wear something other than those horrible dress pants and button ups?” She gasps. “I swear the ties were from Christmas when the twins were four.”

“We rented him a tuxedo for one event.” The admission brings a dramatic sigh from Tim but you lean over to put your arm around his waist and smile broadly. “You look good no matter what, honey.” Did you climb him like a tree that night because he looked extra good in the tux? Absolutely. But he still looks delicious in his t-shirt and shorts.

“I should just buy one.” Tim grumbles. He hadn’t liked wearing it, although realistically, it wasn’t much different from a regular suit. And you had enjoyed him in it. The sex had been extremely hot once he had gotten you back to your place. “Since you want me to go to those things.”

Vanessa’s eyebrows raise at the offer, and she smirks mercilessly. Hearing her big brother make any kind of comment that trends toward commitment is practically worth celebrating. “Ya know,” She giggles evilly and takes a sip of her beer. “I hear that’s even the kind of shit guys get married in.”

Tim nearly chokes in his own tongue, wishing he had decided to take the crime scene call that had come over the radio on the way here. Even a blood bath would have been preferable to the way his sister is probing for information. He just said he loves you, if he starts talking about marriage, you might think he’s gone nuts.

“Oookay, maybe let’s not pick a topic that makes him want to implode?” You try to joke, squeezing his arm gently, and stifle a laugh. That’s exactly the kind of thing you would expect from a little sister but you don’t want Tim to think you’re crazy the way the idea may or may not have already crossed your mind in daydreams from time to time.

“Jesus, Ness.” Tim huffs. “First time you meet her and you’re picking out our wedding colors?” He rolls his eyes. “Booked the church already?”

“Mom did.” Vanessa laughs, and you can’t quite tell if she’s kidding or not as she blows Tim a kiss and scampers off to keep her husband from blowing the place up while he’s on the grill.

“Oh dear God.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I’ll—I’ll make sure Ma didn’t actually reserve the church.”

“Baby, baby—” You grab both of his hands and let a laugh burst through as you pull him closer. “She’s teasing. It’s okay. I’m sure your mom didn’t do anything like that and even if she did, who cares? It’s a funny story we’ll tell someone in the future.” Honestly? It makes you pretty fucking comfortable here knowing that his family is full of ball busters with good senses of humor. And that they’re okay enough with you to include you in those jokes.

“I wouldn’t put it past her.” He grumbles, although he’s leaning in to kiss your lips.

“Then it’s a really funny story we tell later on.” You promise him, happily taking that kiss that he offers you so easily. “I like that your sister is comfortable enough with me to tease.”

“They like you.” He points out with a grin. “Just like I told you they would.” He catches sight of the twins and lights up. “Come on, there they are.”

“This is going on the internet!” Tim’s twin girls are pulling out their phones as soon as they see their father, dramatically button smashing and pointing the devices at the two of you. “Red alert! Dad’s girlfriend is real! This is not a drill!”

“Hey!” Tim lunges forward, snatching for their phones playfully. “Don’t make me throw you in the pool!”

“You can’t.” They’re fraternal twins, and the taller one - Zara - reaches out to hug her dad first. “Your back couldn’t handle it if you tried.”

“I’d try.” He immediately wraps his arms around his firstborn daughter and hugs her tight to his chest. “Hey bug, how have you been?” He asks, kissing her head.

“I got a term paper kicking my ass, but I’m doing okay.” Zara shrugs. Her studies mean the world to her, next to her family, but she tries to stay realistic and avoid overreacting when school is difficult.

“She’s doing amazing, it’s annoying.” The slightly shorter of the twins has lighter hair and looks a bit more like their mother, but that hasn’t stopped Joey from growing up the opposite of Trina; well-adjusted and affectionate. “We need to ask you a favor, though,” she looks at both you and Tim seriously.

“What’s up?” Tim immediately frowns, sure that there is something wrong, something he needs to fix.

“We need you to throw Thanksgiving this year.” Both girls insist in unison, a habit leftover from childhood, before Joey continues to explain. “Gran said she wasn’t up to hosting on her own this year so Mom is trying to make us go to Derek’s parents’ house. But if we tell her you’re throwing Thanksgiving with your girlfriend we’ll be off the hook.” The idea that their grandmother doesn’t want to host anymore has been a bummer for everyone, but an even bigger bummer would be having to deal with their second step-dad’s snooty family.

“I—" he looks helpless towards you, hating that you’ve been put on the spot like this. Holidays haven’t even been discussed and he doesn’t know what you usually do. “Girls, look, even if—”

“No problem.” You cut in, knowing you might be overstepping a tiny bit but for the first favor you might be able to grant his kids, you’ll take that chance. “Even if your Dad gets tied up on a case, my house is big enough and I’m a pretty decent cook.” You do look to Zara though, knowing she can’t be too fond of the main event on Thanksgiving. “We’ll pick out some vegan things together, too.”

His oldest daughter immediately perks up at that idea. “Really?” She asks excitedly. “You wouldn’t mind? I know there’s like, a lot of negativity about vegans, some of them are real assholes.” She tells you. “But I just want to, you know, live pure. But I don’t blame people for eating meat, or if they can’t make me something.”

“I made a couple of things for today that are vegan, it’s really not a problem.” Her enthusiasm and her surprise at being accommodated just makes you want to reach out and hug her, but you look to her father instead. “Is this okay with you, hun? I mean my family’s Thanksgiving is clear across the country and it would be nice to…ya know…do something at home. Instead of being a pity invite at a coworker’s house.”

“What? Yeah.” He nods eagerly, both happy that the girls will be there and that you will be too. “Of course.” He looks over at the girls. “This year won’t be pizza because the turkey’s frozen.” He chuckles.

“Thank you.” Joey is the first to break the ice, reaching out to squeeze both of your shoulders. “Don’t get the wrong impression or anything, our Mom is great at some things, but hosting holidays is not one of them. Which is why it went to her mom for so long, and then whatever guy she’s married to, and—”

Zara practically elbows her sister in the ribs and smiles politely. “This is Joey,” she laughs, waving a hand at her sister. “She talks a lot when she’s nervous.”

“It’s okay.” With a wave of your own hand, you are offering both girls hugs if they want them. “I’m nervous, too. Your Dad loves the hell out of you girls and I’ve been really looking forward to meeting you.”

Zara and Joey both hug you, smiling happily while Tim looks on. He’s relieved that you seem to like the girls. And while it might be unusual that he’s just now introducing you to his twenty-year-old twins, he hadn’t wanted to force things too early. They had resented Derek’s intrusion into their lives when their mom had immediately started dating him, and he hadn’t wanted to make the same mistakes.

Getting to know Tim’s girls is fantastic. They’re good kids, smart as hell, and enthusiastic about their dad being happy again. So enthusiastic, in fact, that it’s easily an hour later when lunch is being announced that you manage to make your way back to his side after being stolen away. You’re at the food table with Zara while she scoops out a plate of your vegan peanut noodles when you give her a squeeze and tell her you’re going to go grab something to eat — and immediately drift away to Tim’s side as he brings over a plate of burgers and hot dogs to the other end of the table.

“Well hey there stranger,” you laugh, slipping one arm around his waist and sighing in relief at having the solid, comforting bulk of him back again.

“Hey.” He grins at you as he sets down the plate. “Sorry, had to rescue the day.” His brother-in-law had actually caught the grill on fire because he hadn’t cleaned it. Tim had taken over and been in charge of the food.

“My hero.” The grin on your face speaks volumes. “Some damn good kids you’ve got there, Rockford. They kept me well entertained, and we’ve got a whole menu worked out for Thanksgiving already.”

“Oh really?” He chuckles. “Has Zara convinced you to make me fry a Tofurkey?” He asks, knowing she might have tried.

“We’re going to do a dish of roasted cauliflower, mushrooms, and butternut squash to add to the table. She got excited about trying out a spice mix in them and said she’d love it for her main dish.” Hell, it sounded good to you as a meat eater, it didn’t surprise you that it sounded good to a vegan. “And she gave me some tips on using alternative milks and vegan butter in recipes so that more of the traditional dishes could be vegan friendly.” Honestly? None of it sounded difficult, and you’re thrilled to be able to do something for his kids. “No exaggeration. I’m looking forward to it.”

“That’s good.” The fact that you are accommodating his daughter is something that makes him fall a little more in love with you. Trina had complained bitterly when Zara had announced becoming vegan.

“I know you were worried when it came out of nowhere, but you don’t need to be.” In fact, after actually getting here and meeting everyone, you’re feeling more relaxed than you had thought possible. “And I—I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” you admit quietly. “Now that I know how nice everyone is, it…how I acted feels even more ridiculous.”

“So you don’t think that I’m going to realize anything more than I’m going home with a hot chick tonight?” He asks, leaning in and nudging his nose against yours.

"As long as you think so, that's all that matters." You don't have to see it, you remind yourself, as long as he does. What had your therapist said to you ages ago? 'You're just not your own type'.

“I absolutely think so.” He winks and leans back to leer at you. “Especially when you look that pretty in your sundress.”

"Oh yeah?" That look is all too familiar to you, and you bite back a grin. It's the same appraising look he had given you at the fundraiser before stealing you away from the party and back to his apartment, which was much closer to the venue than your house.

“Very pretty.” Tim grunts, moving behind you and pressing up against you at the table. “Good enough to eat.”

"Is that a promise?" He has that hungry look in his eyes that you can never resist and you try to school your expression into something innocent.

“Ah ah ahaaaaaa.” Vanessa tuts as she picks up a plate. “Not around the food.”

"Busted," you smirk, pulling Tim away from the table and heading toward the house as subtly as possible.

“You wanna?” Tim groans happily, his shuffled steps quickening behind you. He has zero qualms with having sex in this house, but he had expected you to demure.

“I always want you.” You murmur, practically rolling your eyes at him as you disappear into the house together. “Like absolutely always. It’s a constant state of existence, baby.”

“Yeah?” It surprises him how much you want him. Delights him, but surprises him. He watches you walk towards the stairs. “Last room on the left, baby.”

The upstairs hallway is littered with family photos of many generations, and you quickly look through them as you walk, until one makes you stop dead and “Aww!” out loud. Elementary age Tim in a little policeman’s uniform shares a double frame with a photo of the same man fifteen or twenty years later on the day he graduated from the Police Academy. “This might be the cutest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen,” you grin, pointing to the photos.

“Always knew I wanted to be a cop.” He feels his face burn and he shuffles slightly as he watches you examine the photos. “A little different now, don’t wear the uniform.”

“Nah, you don’t.” You grin up at him and hook your finger in his t-shirt to bring him down for a kiss. “I like the shoulder holster better anyway. Much sexier.”

“Sexier, huh?” He grins against your lips and leans in to press you against the wall. “Want me to wear it for you one day?”

“Maybe.” Your lips quirk against his in a way that absolutely means yes, and your hands wander up under his t-shirt to spread out over his muscles back. “Kinda curious how you would feel about interrogating me, actually…”

“Really?” He pulls back and arches a brow at you. “You want that? Maybe those handcuffs we were talking about? Giving you a pat down?”

The way you muffle a soft groan and briefly close your eyes should be plenty enough of a giveaway. “If I wasn’t wet before I certainly am now,” you grumble, enjoying the fantasy playing yet again in your mind.

“You concealing a weapon?” He asks gruffly, even though he is smiling. He won’t really roleplay with you right now, but you seem to love the idea.

“Maybe…” You can’t help but giggle, taking his hand that isn’t braced on the wall above your head and guiding it under the skirt of your sundress. “Guess you’re gonna have to find out.”

All he can feel is generous, warm flesh. Making him groan and his cock twitches against your hip. “When did you take your panties off?”

“I snuck inside about ten minutes ago.” Your soft little grin turns wicked. “I think I have a domesticity kink, cause I was enjoying watching you at the grill.”

“I’ll grill every night if you stop wearing panties.” He promises with a groan. “My sexy girl.”

“You wanna add another notch to that bedpost, baby?” The two of you are about three feet from the door to his childhood room and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to get caught fucking in the hallway. Just for basic courtesy’s sake.

“Only notch that counts.” He promises, pulling away from you to drag you into the bedroom.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit

My Masterlist!

Red Herring

3.3K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: You make Detective Rockford a Halloween costume.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please).  Established relationship, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous), lingerie, semi-public sex, desk sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected PiV, bad puns, half-assed costumes.

A/N: Since The Rockford Portfolio was born from @mermaidgirl30’s Ocean Challenge this summer, I thought it was only fitting to write the same couple for Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge (as always though, the stories in the collection can be read standalone ☺️)! Tim's hatred of Halloween is heavily influenced by Amy Santiago from Brooklyn 99 🤭🤭 Happy Halloween and spooky season everyone!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘 / Series Masterlist

Tim was right.  Halloween at a police precinct is a mess.

The streets outside are absolute mayhem, crawling with costumed Halloween revelers stumbling and celebrating in various states of undress and inebriation.  No one seems to care that they’re causing a ruckus right outside of a building full of cops.  Even walking up the stairs to the main doors, you had found yourself side stepping at least two incidents of vomit, and you still feel a little worried about leaving the trio of drunk Power Puff girls on the bench outside even though they had giggled that they were fine when you asked.  There’s no safer place for them to be, you suppose.

The inside of the precinct is no less chaotic than it is outside.  It’s exactly as Tim had described.  You chuckle to yourself as you pass a couple of patrolmen headed out as Jedi Knights and think back to your conversation earlier this month when Tim told you he would be working on Halloween.

Curled up in Tim’s lap, you’re scrolling through TikTok as he watches some police procedural on the TV that he keeps grumbling at when you come across a few spoopy videos, “Do you think you might want to do a couples costume for Halloween, Detective?”

Tim actually grimaces.  He hates Halloween with a passion, “Oh Shutterbug, I’m so sorry – I have to work Halloween.  I work every Halloween.”

“Every Halloween?”

“Yeah - ugh. Halloween is honestly such a gong show.  People think costumes make them invincible for some reason,” he closes his eyes and scowls at the memory of Halloweens past.  “Every patrolman works overtime and is out on the streets breaking up fights, putting people in the drunk tank, getting drunk drivers off the streets.”

He’s not done; Tim brings his paw of a hand to his face and massages it in irritation, “The entire detective squad comes in to help process every idiot that’s brought in: DWI.  Underage Drinking.  Disorderly Conduct.  Assault.  Vandalism.  Trespassing.  Theft.  You name it, gorgeous.  Halloween is a fucking mess.”

You chuckle a little, you’re not used to seeing your normally unflappable detective so out of sorts, nevermind at the mere thought of a children’s celebration.

“Does everyone hate Halloween like you?”

Tim cracks a smile at this, “No one hates things the way I hate things.”  This has you giggling – Tim can be terribly grumpy.  “I guess not everyone.  The precinct gets decorated and there is a costume contest.”

“Oh!” You perk up at this, “And they arrest people in costume?”

“Might as well,” Tim’s face screws up in annoyance again, “It’s not like anyone respects the uniform on Halloween.  You have better luck getting compliance as Godzilla.”

For a second, you imagine Tim sulking behind his desk, filling out public intoxication reports dressed as Batman and you have to stifle a snort of laughter, “But not you though?  You don’t dress up?”

“Nope.”

“What’s the costume contest prize?” your eyes twinkle.

“No, nope,” Tim kisses the nose that you’ve scrunched up in mischief, “What do you plan on doing for Halloween, Shutterbug?”

You look thoughtful, the truth is you’re not really up for anything too exciting this year, “I’m probably going to volunteer at the library to give out candy, then I told the girls I’d meet up with them at a pub for some food and drinks.  Then they’ll head over to a bar or club or something that’s hosting a Halloween party and I don’t really want to do that.  Maybe I could come hang out with you?”

“Of course you can, baby.  But just be prepared, it’s going to be messy.”

The bullpen is loud – every desk is occupied by a dog tired, costumed detective taking down statements, yelling into their phone, or typing aggressively away on their computer – some of them doing all three.  The holding cell is overflowing, and the occupants are either wildly indignant about their detainment or completely unphased and appear to be continuing whatever reveries that had brought them in from behind bars.  There is no in between.

The commotion is so much more unruly than it usually is; it might be unsettling, except for how comical it is to see Tim’s colleagues in various costumes doing their very serious jobs. At a quick glance you see: a bumblebee, a Pikachu, two pirates, an Aquaman, and three Howls from Howl’s Moving Castle.

The juxtaposition of these outfits to the cacophony in the room is hilarious.  You spot and wave to Tim’s partner, Detective Arnold Calloway, who’s dressed as Elvis on your way to Tim’s office.

Tim’s door is open but before you announce yourself, you take a moment to ogle your handsome boyfriend as he types, brows furrowed in concentration at his computer.  He’s not in costume but you can’t complain – Tim's usual crisp white dress shirt stretches taut across his broad frame, his hunched shoulders restrained slightly by the unforgiving leather of his gun holster. His tie is loose but it’s the only thing that’s loose - Tim’s rolled up shirt sleeves strain to contain his beefy arms, and from where you stand, you can see his exposed forearms flex tightly with every furious punch to the keys on his keyboard.  Even without a costume, Tim Rockford looks like a superhero.

“Happy Halloween, Detective.”

The smile that breaks across Tim’s face when he looks up and sees you is nothing short of breathtaking, it sends a blooming warmth through your chest that quickly winds its way down between your legs.

“Happy Halloween, Shutterbug.  How’s your night going so far?”

“Pretty fun!  The library had so many kids coming in – I gave out so much candy!  And dinner was good – the girls say hi.  What about you, baby?”  You walk around Tim’s desk and lean down to place a sweet kiss to his lips before massaging his weary shoulders.

Tim sighs, “As good as can be expected for this godforsaken holiday.  I’ve been to the hospital for interviews twice, and now I’m processing a mountain of misdemeanors.”

You ghost your lips behind Tim’s ear and smile when the little puff of air you blow makes him groan.  Planting chaste kisses to the back of his neck as you continue kneading the hard muscles of his back, you chirp mischievously, “I have something that could make your evening more fun, Detective.”

Tim leans back and spins his chair around to face you, smirking, “Oh yeah?  What’s that, Shutterbug?”

Chuckling, you reach into your purse and take out a headband with two springs coming out the top like antennae and hold it out to Tim.

“What’s this?”

You point to the tops of the springs: on one you’ve glued an empty packet of Trident gum, and to the other is affixed a small dog toy in the shape of a shoe that you had found at the dollar store.  Giggling, you place the headband over Tim’s head and tuck the ends behind his ears, “It’s your costume, Tim.  You’re a gumshoe.”

Tim groans and drops his face into his palm.  The resulting bounce of the little objects over his head makes you giggle even harder, “See?  You were already dressed up and you didn’t even know it.”  You wave you hand over Tim’s body.

Detective Rockford peeks through his fingers and when he sees your impish grin and how much joy your mischief is bringing you, he can’t help but grin himself, “Alright, gorgeous.  Where’s your costume, then?”

Delighted at how easily Tim’s given in to your silliness, you reach back into your purse and pull out your own headband – a red one with similar antennae to match his black, but at the end of each of your springs is a little plastic fish, swaying and jiggling erratically as you slip the band onto you head and jovially announce, “A red herring for my dashing gumshoe to chase!"

Tim lets out a low gruff of a laugh, one that crinkles the eyes that are already always soft for you, his smile as relaxed as his shoulders now are, “Where’s the rest of your costume?  Shouldn’t you be wearing red?”  He teasingly does the same waving motion you did to him earlier over your closed trench coat jacket.

If possible, your smile gets even wider when you reply, “I am!  You want me to show you?”

“Sure, baby.”  To Tim’s surprise, instead of opening your jacket, you coyly saunter over to his office door, closing then locking it.  On your way back to him, you start to undo the knot of your jacket belt, letting the lapels of your jacket fall open to reveal the sexist red lace lingerie set Tim’s ever seen in his life.  As you slide between Tim and his desk, perching gingerly on the edge, you snicker at your boyfriend’s drooling expression. 

“Trick or Treat, Detective Rockford?” you flirt, fingers hooked under the warm leather straps of Tim’s gun holster, lightly tugging to beckon him closer.  He obeys.

Hypnotized, Tim slowly brushes his fingers over the frill of the delicate fabric that lays tantalizingly over your delicious curves – leaving goosebumps on your supple skin everywhere his hands graze, and even places they don’t.  He unwittingly licks his lips at your pert nipples, already at attention and tenting the crimson red floral lace that hug your tits so prettily – Tim can’t help himself; leaning forward in his chair, he takes one in his mouth.

The soft gasp that you let escape exhales to a throaty groan as you feel Tim’s hands travel down your body; they come to a momentary rest at your hips - tugging teasingly at the ruffled skirt of the garter belt before trailing down the straps.  As he rubs the bands that loop around your mid thighs between his thick fingers, Tim chuckles into your chest, “Is that what you wore at the library, baby?”

You giggle uncontrollably and shake your head, little fish above your head dancing wildly on their springs as you push back a little to show Tim how you’re still wearing your modest, library appropriate red dress, but that it’s been unbuttoned and left open under your trench coat.  Eyebrow cocked in amusement, Tim hooks his fingers into and pulls down the cups of your bra before diving back in, and you think you hear him mumble something like Dirty girl, through his mouthful of your breasts.

“You never answered my question – trick or treat, Detective Rockford?”

With some reluctance, Tim parts from the softness of your tits to lean back in his chair, ogling your near naked form shamelessly while he pretends to contemplate his response.  Finally, he scootches his chair forward and cups one of his powerful hands beneath your boobs and presses so that you lean back – his other pries open your legs so you can accommodate the expansive width of his shoulders.

“I think you already chose ‘treat’ for me, Shutterbug.”

Your girlish squeal as Tim lays a sweet kiss to your clit through the thin fabric of your panties is louder than you’d like and you quickly cover your mouth with a hand in order to muffle it.  As Detective Rockford open mouth kisses your panty clad cunt, your eyes roll to the back of your head and the flatness of your palm becomes insufficient to contain your escalating moans – when Tim pulls the gusset of your underwear to the side, the snap of cool air hitting the wetness of your exposed core pulls a cry from your throat that can only be stifled by biting down on the heel of your thumb.

The sting from your teeth causes you to buck into Tim’s face and from that moment forth, there’s no holding back his animalistic lust.  Tim licks fat stripe after fat stripe through your folds to the tip of your hardened nub – every new path made by his tongue dug deep and true.  Your pooled arousal is collected and swirled over your sweetest dips and waves, then sucked and savoured in his mouth like his favourite whiskey.  It might actually be.  Tim’s own groans and growls at the sweetness of your taste vibrate right into your cunt and straight to the tightening band beneath your belly.

Eyes taking in the lascivious sight above him, Tim’s dick strains painfully in his pants: his pretty girl is laid near bare and gorgeous, tits bouncing while her face screws up in pleasure, mouth stuffed with her own fist. You're a true heaven that contrasts starkly to the hell of mundane paperwork that Tim thought would make up the bulk of his Halloween shift, still sitting next to you on the very same desk you’re currently writhing on.

With a feral grunt, Tim tongue fucks your slit while his nose and the elastic hem of your pulled back panties work your slippery clit in tandem.  He builds and builds until he knows you can’t take anymore, then pushes you over the edge with the tenor of his baritone command to come.

You crest with a wild cry that’s barely contained by your now aching and wet hand, drool running down your wrist as your body shudders with wave after wave of indescribable pleasure.   

Only when he feels your lithe body settle does Tim rise to his feet and undo his belt.  Lips and facial scruff still shiny with your release, he grins a wolfish grin, “Now it’s time for 'trick', gorgeous.”

Kissing you roughly, Tim busies himself with pulling out his leaking cock as you return his affections just as fiercely, spurned on by the taste of you in your own mouth.  He pulls back to clean his face with the back of his arm, and you whimper when you unsuccessfully chase after his lips.

“No need to be greedy, Shutterbug. Your Detective is going to fuck you now,” smirks Tim, notching himself at your entrance and sliding in with ease.

The heft of him still leaves you breathless every time.  When you look up at Tim, you find his face relaxed in a look of reverence that tells you he feels the same about the welcome of your warm walls.

“Going to fuck you hard and fast, 'kay baby?  Don’t have much time.  Can’t have anyone coming in and seeing my pretty girl split on my cock” Tim’s mouth slots over yours and he drinks in your moans at his dirty promise.  One of Tim’s meaty hands grips your hip so hard you know he’ll leave a bruising imprint of his desire for you to find tomorrow, the other grabs your lacy garter belt like a cowboy would the reins of his horse; as he starts to ride you, every punishing drive of Tim’s cock leaves you marveling that the delicate fabric doesn’t rip to shreds under his efforts.

“Fuck me, Detective,” you breath, nipping and sucking along Tim’s strong jaw to behind his earlobe where he’s most sensitive.  Sticking out your tongue to lick down the column of Tim’s throat, your mouth jolts against Tim’s bobbing Adam’s apple as he continues to thrust into you like a man possessed.  The scrape of your teeth and the soothing lave of you tongue over the responsive skin at the base of his neck, cause Tim to groan, low and throaty.  When your fingers thread through his soft curls and yank down so to expose more of his neck to your sinful mouth, he retaliates by reaching for your breasts, roughly kneading and worshiping before directing his attention to your nipples.

Without letting up on your sopping hole, Tim rolls and pinches, pulls and tweaks your pert peaks, all while gritting out dirty words of praise:

Pretty thing came to a police precinct tonight to get fucked, didn’t she?

So fucking hot in your little outfit, gorgeous just for me.

This pussy's made my whole fucking night, baby.

You can only hope that your near pornographic wails are adequately buffered by the thickness of Tim’s chest, as you bury your face against the wall of him.  The combination of your tight and slick cunt and the added friction of your panties, now soaked with your cream and pressed taut against his cock, has Tim on the expressway; when his pace starts to grow frantic, he leaves your perfect tits to press his thumb down on your clit.

“Oh fuck, Tim!  Fuck, I’m going to c-” Tim’s solid and comforting circles on your crying nub are enough to send you over the edge again.  Your heaving breaths against his neck and the fluttering of your walls as they clamp down on his length send Tim barreling to join you soon after.

Hands still in Tim’s hair, you card through his dampened waves as the two of you rest forehead-to-forehead, exchanging tender butterfly kisses and soft words of devotion during the comedown from your twin highs.

Knock, knock.

“Rockford.”  It’s Arnie.

Tim slips out of you and tucks himself back in before walking to his door, waiting with his hand on the handle to make sure you’ve had time to right and button up your dress before he opens the door to see what his partner wants.

“Rockford, do you have that repor- What’s that?” Detective Arnold Calloway’s eyes widen and he points to the still bobbling springs on the headband that Tim never took off his head.

Tim has no words.

Your hand flies to your mouth and you barely contain the hysterical giggle that threatens to escape.  Arnie looks past Tim right at you, and his face breaks out in the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen.  His eyes dance with mirth and you can’t help but blurt out the answer to his unspoken question, “He’s a gumshoe!!!”  The two of you shriek in laughter as Tim stands stiffly, eyes closed in disbelief, willing himself to disappear. 

You bound up to the door and loop one arm around Tim’s waist, the other you arch to point to your own headband, beaming, “I’m the red herring in his case!”

Arnie nearly drops the files in his arms to hold his stomach as he cackles, “Perfect costumes!  Never thought I’d see the day when Rockford dressed up for Halloween!  Forget the report – I need a picture.”

“No pictures,” Tim practically bellows as he storms back to his desk in a huff, headband adornments swinging wildly.

Winking at Detective Calloway, you whisper, “I’ll get a picture,” before you walk back into Tim’s office and settle in on the couch.  Tucking your legs under your bum, you pull out the book you checked out of the library earlier before looking up to your sweet boyfriend who's gone back to typing his reports as if he wasn't just ravaging you on that same desk minutes earlier, “Love you, Detective Rockford.”

Tim glances up at the sweet angel who willingly keeps him company on this horrid night and makes it decidedly less horrid; giving you a soft smile, he winks, “Love you more, Shutterbug.”

The Monday following Halloween, you’re putting the finishing touches on dinner when Tim comes home, carrying a large box that he deposits on the kitchen counter with a look of pride and amusement.

“What’s this?” you ask with curiosity, giving Tim a deep welcome home kiss before opening the package to discover a case of wine.

To your gleeful howl of laughter, Tim tells you that he won the precinct Halloween costume contest this year. 

You’re looking through the box, picking up the bottles and reading the labels.  Malbec.  Gamay. Beaujolais.  Barbarossa.  You take out a bottle of Nebbiolo that you think might work with dinner and exclaim in delight, “Congratulations, Detective!  This is a great prize!”

Tim sweeps you into his arms and presses his lips to your pretty pout for a searing kiss, murmuring, “I got a better one right here.”

Visual aids for this instalment:

The Late Shift

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Tim Rockford x f reader

Word count: 597

Summary: Tim eats it from the back.

Warnings: SMUT. Oral f receiving, etc etc

A word from the author: just a quickie with Tim! This was a thot that got out of hand idk. I promise nobody gets knocked up in this one. ACAB even if I do sometimes write about banging them.

It’s 11:39 pm. You should be at home, but instead you’re on your knees on top of Detective Rockford’s desk. Papers are getting crinkled, pens are rolling onto the floor, and your cheek is mushed against the worn wood veneer. Tim’s got your hands cuffed behind your back.

He adjusts in his squeaky chair and spreads you open with his thumbs, rubbing them up and down along either side of your wet pussy lips. He takes his time, admiring your body. When he has enough of playing with you, he guides you back, knees on the edge so he can eat your pussy from behind.

He doesn’t even loosen his tie, and the shoulder holster stays on. You can hear calls coming in for him over his radio, but he pays it no mind. He groans and laps at you, drinking up every drop of wetness that pours from your clenching hole.

He eats you messily, groaning as he savors your cunt like a delicacy. He grips and squeezes the meat of your ass, pulling you against his face, dragging his nose through your folds as you squeal, getting a little thrill at how you squirm as he flicks his tongue over your asshole. He focuses on your clit, sucking hard as he pushes a thumb into your messy entrance, he pumps it, loving the slick sounds you make for him. He busies his free hand with your nipple, reaching between your legs to tug it and roll it between his long, thick fingers. You could never deny how much you like letting him do this to you.

You love letting him take total control, letting him expose you, completely naked while he didn’t even take off his wedding band. You love the danger of it, knowing someone could walk in. You love how much he loves making you feel like his, at his mercy. You love the burning sting when he smacks your ass hard. It was enough to make you come, the vulgarity of it. You felt the tightness winding in your belly, the tremble in your thighs. You’re barreling towards it, gasping his name, and then it’s gone. His hands, his mouth, gone.

“No!” You mewl, struggling to see where he is, why he would do you so wrong. He’s nodding at a garbled voice coming brought his radio, furrowing his brows as he sucks your flavor from his thumb.

“Copy,” is all he says before he tosses it back onto his desk and wipes his face with a crumpled napkin he fishes from a paper lunch bag. “Come on. I gotta go. Up.” He helps you ease off his desk, and holds your pants for you to step into, he takes one last moment to lift and squeeze your tits, on full display with your hands still cuffed.

He kisses and sucks at your peaked nipples, staring longingly at them as he pats his pockets to locate his key ring. You slip back into your loose top once your hands are free, and step soberly toward the door.

“Nuh uh, sweetheart. I don’t think so,” he stops you with a warm hand on your shoulder.

“Come on, Tim, do you really have to?”

“Gotta follow the rules.”

He cuffs your wrists behind your back once more and rubs your elbow gently with his thumb, a gesture no one would notice, should they look.

He takes you back to your holding cell, sliding the bars in place and checking the lock is engaged before throwing you a wink, palming his still turgid member and disappearing back out of the cell block.

Pedro Pascal - Merge Mansion (2023)

Sex Pollen Din Djarin one-shot

rating: 18+

pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader

a/n: Okay y'all, I heard you loud and clear and I couldn't focus until I got this outta my tippy tappy fingers. I don't really know much about Din Djarin so sorry if the characterization is all over the place. I also don't know anything about star wars or the show so I'm sorry if there's incorrect lore there.

This is also submission for the 2024 TROPE-OFF

Giving In

You start awake when you feel the rumble of approaching earth, rubbing at your tired face as you watch the Mandalorian seated in front of you guide the ship safely over the ground. 

You barely got any sleep last night, so excited for today's destination. You wince as you shift in your seat, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"Sorry, must've fallen asleep." 

Silence greets you as it often does. The Mandalorian says little and rarely answers your questions. The clang of the ship settling onto the sandy terrain draws your attention to the small window at your right. 

It's a barren backwater planet if you have anything to say about it. Barely populated except for what appears to be a dense section of foliage in yellow and purple. 

There's the echoing of Grogu babbling downstairs in his cubby, falling asleep. As the mechanical staff of the razor crest for the last two months you have no responsibility to the child. Nonetheless like most you were charmed by his sweet disposition and face. 

His father on the other hand...

He may not be a cruel man, but he's certainly an irritable one. Barely talks to you, is often arrogant, grunts at you when you make suggestions on repairs. Sometimes he ignores you altogether. 

You've been with him for two months. two solid months since Karga suggested you for his Crest repair when he visited Navarro. 

Two months since the Mandalorian decided you were worthy of being onboard his ship to do repairs (not that he ever complimented your work) for his sojourn in the outer rim to make good coin. 

Two months of ship repairs, planets, mutual disdain and pog soup eaten in separate parts of the ship. You know he only keeps you around because he refuses to have a mech-droid on board. His infamous hatred of droids is legendary in certain circles. 

"Are we close to Borr'rha?" You ask, sighing heavily when he continues to press buttons on the console while ignoring you. 

Borr'rha is where he'll refuel and where you'll be officially disembarking. You've been counting down the days. You're time as his employee is rapidly coming to an end and you couldn't be more thankful. 

Your personalities don't mix. You're jovial and prone to smiles. He's a buzz kill, annoying and so stringent in everything from his beliefs to arranging exactly where you'll sleep (he sleeps with the child in a comfortable looking cubby) whereas you have a makeshift room designated by curtains. You sleep on a lumpy mattress with thin blankets and flat pillows. 

And you put up with it because you're an orphan with no familial attachments. Because you don't care what planet you visit as long as your purse grows heavy with currency. You don't blink when be brings aboard snarling bounties that growl at you because for every body thrust in Carbonite, your life on Borr'rha is coming nearer and nearer into sight. A childhood dream finally coming to fruition. 

You can't wait.

You've already picked out the sweet little place you'll be buying. When you close your eyes you can picture it there, bathed gloriously in sunlight from the twin suns. 

"Detour."

It's the first thing he's said in hours. His voice is rough and raspy through the modulator. Images of your perfect home become vapor as he speaks. You frown at his back. 

"What? You told me we were going to Borr'rha today." 

Mando doesn't reply. Just stands slowly and when he does he towers over your seated frame (and your upright frame for that matter). 

He's so... big. Broad shoulders, thick beskar covering his body, big feet covered in wide boots. Every part of him seems built to withstand anything. Not one part of him peeks out, not one slice of flesh. He's a mystery both in attitude and looks. 

"You lied to me, Mandalorian." 

You never call him Mando. You've never heard his real name. You don't like to think of him as a person, just a creature that ferries you from planet to planet silently appraising your repair skills. You enjoy that he wears a helmet at all times, it's helps aid in this belief. 

His dark helmet tips down and you know he's staring at you. You obviously can't see his face under the helmet so you don't know if your words have any impression on him. 

They likely don't. 

You know he doesn't like that you talk back to him. He's likely never had to put up with people unafraid of him. You don't think there's actually anything he likes about you. He's so cold to you, so quick to take Grogu from your arms when you play with him. He's made it clear that he doesn't want you ingratiating yourself into his life. 

You take a steadying breath. 

"I'm supposed to be purchasing my own property there today."

"It'll have to wait." 

You bite back your anger. You know for a fact that he holds all the currency. You also know that as per the agreement you signed on, if he doesn't complete all bounty retrieval within your contract time, you receive nothing. These weeks will have been for nothing. 

You watch him approach the hatch of the door, ready to go and retrieve his latest bounty. You slump back into your chair, irritated beyond belief. There's nothing you can do. 

"Don't die," you spit sarcastically over your shoulder at him. 

 It's a habit at this point. Something you started saying your first day and never seemed to let up. You don't know why you bother saying it, other than your own selfishness. If he doesn't come back there's no way for you to leave the planet.

His reply is the same as it always has been since that first day; a tip of his helmet and then he's gone. 

He doesn't mince words. Rarely shares them. His tone always holds affection for Grogu, that never wavers. But for you? His on board employee? There's no warmth, no fuzzy feelings.

You first told yourself it was nothing personal, he's just not someone who needs others. You're his staff. He's your employer. But as his coldness grew you came to realize the Mandalorian held nothing but contempt for you.

And that works just fine for you because you feel precisely the same way about him. 

Din moves through the dense forest, pushing back the large leaves that sweep along his body like loving caresses. He steps into a puddle of mud. He pulls out with a grunt, kicking the excess from his boot. 

He's irritated today, more than usual. You're driving him up the ships walls. It was bad enough when you were talking back to him about repairs, it's quite another this last three days. 

You knew that your destination was fast approaching and your work had grown sloppy. He saw a censor mark flapping back there, improperly secured. It made him irritated. 

It also made him angry when you talked to Grogu about leaving, dancing with the little guy in your arms as you sang about your new life yesterday. Don't you get that it hurts Grogu to think of you leaving? 

Din thinks he can hear something in the trees. The sensor on his helmet shows nothing by heat, but he's sure he can hear something. 

He flinches when something brushes his arm. He whirls to find nothing but a collection of flowers he doesn't recognize. 

He growls in anger as the beeping increases at his hip. The quarry is close, his credits in his account about to increase. That's the reason for his detour, he wanted to make sure to send you off with as many credits as possible. 

You may think he's a monster but he believes in securing you for a profitable future. You'll thank him when you're in your new home, free of financial worry thanks to him. Not that you'll thank him, that's not your style. 

No, your style is laughing loudly, smiling at everything unless you're focused on work. Your style is leaving the fresher floor wet and the mirror fogged. 

He can't wait to be rid of you. 

A sudden flash of color darts between the tree line and Din snaps into action, his long legs silently slice through the tall grass, cutting the creature off. 

He tackles the Zelton easily, a prisoner on watch for stealing an imperial ship. He's run into her before; she must have just broken out of prison. He remembers how hard she fought him last time and he's almost amused that she’s right back being captured. 

He hovers above her, his thighs bracketing her red belly. 

"Hello again, Lummi," he snipes sarcastically. 

He aims his blaster against her forehead between her eyes, noticing belatedly that her scarlet cheeks are puffy, like she's holding something in her mouth. He doesn’t register what’s happening before she gives him a wink and spits directly into his face. A stream of pink shoots up into his mask, through the filtration system. 

He crawls off of her, startled, shaking his helmet from side to side, trying to dislodge the liquid. The filtration system is good, but not good enough for particles that small. A pink blur is blinked from his eyes in the helmet. 

"What was that?" 

She stands and looks at him with infinite amusement.  

"Luxuria Veveritas," she says with glee as she stands, grinning ferally down at him. "Think of it as a little gift from you to me. I always thought it would do you good to get your bolts rattled.”

Din doesn’t recognize the name, but he does feel strangely warm. She prepares to walk away from him and he growls out at her, keeping his voice steady.

"Take another step-"

"In about two parsecs you're not going to be able to stand let alone shoot."

Din is about to prove how wrong she is, raising his arm when a sharp stab goes through his lower belly. He lets out a grunt, dropping to one knee. She laughs cruelly at him, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder in smug victory.

"Better luck next time, Mando."

Lummi scampers off with her long hair bopping behind her. Din tries to aim his gun at her retreating frame but he can't focus properly, the image of his escaping quarry doubling as his vision blurs. 

Pain goes through his abdomen again and he staggers to a stand, his body heavy. He knows he can't head after her; he needs to get back to the ship. He needs the med kit on board. He turns and quickly makes his way back to the ship, his breathing labored as his long legs scissor through the forest. 

There's a strong smell in his helmet, almost choking him. It takes him a few jogging moments before he realizes it's that sweet scent of the oils you use in your hair. Both must be from the same flower. 

It's one of the few things he doesn't mind about your company. On the nights you apply this oil the ship is scented faintly with the aroma of vanilla and jesmin. It's usuallly a calming scent, but this much concentrated in his helmet is making him gag. He's confused when his cock begins to thicken between his legs as he runs for the ship. 

The pain is throbbing below his navel, making his body flame. The brush of his trouser fabric against his cock is making it leak, causing him to groan with every step. 

He needs to get to the ship, he tells himself, to safety, to the med bag he keeps on board. And then an errant thought that slips in, loud and pulsing: 

He needs to get to you. 

You sit with Grogu in your lap, talking to him about the furnishings you'll pick out for your new home. 

"It's going to be so great, finally putting down roots, maybe starting a family," you muse, bopping him up and down playfully on your knee. 

Your confused when instead of his customary grin, he wears a sad look of disappointment. His big ears sinking and his large eyes blinking and wet. 

You feel a strange pull at you, a sadness you weren't anticipating when you thought about leaving. Yes, leaving means saying goodbye to the Mandalorian, but it also means saying goodbye to the tiny baby in your arms. 

You're going to miss him. 

"But you can come and visit as often as you like," you promise him, tickling him under the chin. His large ears perk up at that. 

You're thinking of how you can convince the Mandalorian to bring him by every so often when a clanging startles you. It can't be The Mandalorian, he's been gone too short a time.

Despite this you go to the door with the child in your arms, waiting for the customary knock he taught you before unlatching it. 

Mando at the outside, bent over at the waist. When he hears the door creak open lurches in, pushing past you and falling to the ground. You close the door after him in case there are those in pursuit of him. 

You lock it, moving past him kneeling on the floor in order to get by him with the nervous looking Grogu. 

You put the child back in his cubby, not wanting him to see his father suffering like this. The door swishes closed and then you're back at Din's side, speaking softly. 

"Are you okay?"

No words. Just a sharp shake of his metal head. Instinctively you want to reach out to him to soothe him but that's not how he works. He's not soft and cuddly. Touching him would make things worse, you're sure of it. 

Tears are leaking from his eyes, he can feel them sliding down his cheeks behind the mask. He rarely cries. Hasn't since he thought he'd never see Grogu again. 

But this isn't emotional pain like that. This is an overwhelming throb that aches everywhere, especially between his legs. It makes him double over, his knees hitting the floor of the Razor Crest with a thud. 

Fuck. 

"Can you stand? Can you make it to the cockpit?"

The cockpit has room for him to lay down if he needs to and it's also where the emergency tools are. Bacta, bandages and more. 

Din doesn't move for a moment, his breathing heavy. It's like all he can smell is your skin, all he can hear is your voice and all he wants to taste is your skin. Thoughts that he's denied himself these past two months, pushed to the recesses of his mind because you irritate each other so much. 

You can hear tiny grunts coming through on the modulator. Then he nods, following you up the ladder. 

You verbally urge him into the jump seat, your eyes on his crumpled form. He's doubled over as if he's eaten bad cushnip. He's breathing raggedly, unable to look at you. 

He presses something on his helmet and all the sounds are erased. He's turned off the mic, something he does when he needs to be quiet hunting quarry. Now all you can hear is your own shaky breathing in the cockpit with him. You stand away from him, still unsure of yourself in his presence. 

"Were you hit?"

Din shakes his head abruptly, hands in fists, his head tilting forward. 

"Was it an animal?"

Shake. 

"Do you have any idea what happened?"

Another strained shake of his head and the button at the side of his helmet is pressed again. You hear his ragged inhale. 

"Why is it so warm in here?"

You glance around the cockpit in confusion, raising your hand to test the air. You scurry over to check the temperature control panel when Din groans at you to. 

"It's the same temperature that it always is." 

"It can't be." 

"Focus," you say sharply, confused when he shudders at the sound. "What happened out there?"

"Quarry got me." He groans again. "Spit something on me and--- kriff its too hot in here!"

He drags down the cowl to relieve some of the heat building under his clothing and helmet. And you want to focus on the issue at hand, but the sight of this sliver of flesh has you momentarily immobilized.

Spice.

That's all you can think. His skin is like spice; golden and beautiful. His neck is slick with sweat, dripping down below the fabric. It makes you swallow. 

"I can't breathe." 

You begin gazing around the cockpit for something to help him. You don't have access to any ice or anything that will cool him down. Bacta won’t do anything. You're about to say that, turning just in time to see as Din tear at the cowl around his neck before growing frustrated. 

You watch in silence as Din begins to tear the large gloves he wears from each hand. The leather slaps against the crest floor and all you can focus on is his hands. They're broad, deep shores between knuckles and long fingers. 

Those large hands continue to pull the cowl around his neck and you let out a sharp cry when Din rips the fabric from around his neck. 

"I need .. I-I -it’s so hot," Din stutters, his hands going to tear off his beskar armor piece by piece. You watch in awe as beskar falls to the ground, clanging. Despite this he continues tugging the leg plates, the vambrance, all piling at his feet.

Is he going to get naked in front of you?

Your entire body flushes at the thought of all that golden skin bared to you. It's been a while since you've been taken to bed, you tell yourself, and it’s only natural to respond this way to an attractive body. 

You're distracted by these thoughts as Din carelessly tears away his wrist gauntlet. It flies through the air, slamming into your ankle. A stripe of white hot pain travels up your calf at the sensation of the thick metal and you cry out. 

"Ow!"

You crumple to the ground, holding your ankle in pain, holding in a shriek. You rub at it, tears starting at the corner of your eyes. Your tunic has ridden up, leaving your ankle bare. You see the bruise already beginning. 

Din rushes over, his voice tight with panic.

"I'm s- Are you okay?"

He drops to his knee beside you on the floor. His bare hand comes to touch your ankle, fingers curling around it, but you're pissed off and in pain. 

"Don't!" You say, pushing against his warm hand. "It's fine." 

The second you touch his skin he lets out a hiss, pulling his hand sharply back. You're so taken aback you momentarily forget the pain. 

"What?" 

"Get away from me," Din growls at you, his arms banding around his abdomen. You're confused when you see that the front of his pants have a wet spot. What the fuck just happened? 

Here's tugging the shirt over his head leaving him in only his mesh pants and helmet. For the first time you see him as a man, not some quiet creature that shuttles you from planet to planet, annoying you. He's so broad, his shoulders wide and his waist tapered. He's strong, his arms muscular, his body sturdy. 

He's beautiful. 

Din feels like he's on fire from the inside. Despite coming only moments before at the mere touch of your bare skin, his cock is twitching in his trousers in need. He needs to fuck you. He needs to feel the sweetness between your thighs.

You're standing to one side, eyes wide. You look so concerned, your throat bobbing as you swallow. His eyes follow down the line of your body, watching your breasts lift as you move to survey him. Your nipples are straining through the tunic. 

His body is sweating everywhere, the longer he goes without coming again the more the pressure builds. He needs to come inside you. 

Now.

He's breathing deeply, his glistening chest expanding, making your pulse flutter. He's making breathy whimpers under his modulator, his neck tilted back. You need to help him, you need to focus. He's overheating. 

"The fresher!" 

Din can barely think straight. He's starting to panic that if something isn't resolved soon his brain is going to melt. You seem to sense that he's out of control because you bark at him again. 

"C'mon! Follow me!" 

He lumbers after you like an oversized obedient tooka, letting out small sharp exhales of pain every few steps. You reach the fresher and immediately reach inside the shower, twisting the knob. You test to feel the temperature and then you turn back to him, holding out your arm to indicate he should enter. 

"Get in!"

He's shuddering, feeling that familiar pressure building. Your arm is wet from the water, droplets glistening on your skin. He needs to taste your skin. He steps towards you. 

"What are you doing?" 

He's panting so heavily, his chest heaving and his fists curling and uncurling at his sides. He’s fighting so hard, so hard but he can’t stop. He’s compelled to touch and taste and fuck. Its taking everything in him not to force you to your knees.

"I'm sorry," he whispers through a groan. He turns his face from you, his mask in profile. "I can't... I can't stop this."

He's trying so hard not to touch you, not to do this. He's stronger than this. You don't deserve to be forced into touching him.. You don't deserve to be forced to fix his mistake. 

"What can I do?" You ask, your hands flying to his bare neck.

As soon as your skin touches his all his resolve is gone. 

"That. More of that," Din begs, his husky voice dragging along your spine. "Please."

You've never heard Din ask for anything. But this isn't him asking. This is begging. He's begging you.  

"Please, please," he's murmuring, his hands taking your wrists and tugging you closer to him.  

"What? What do you need me to do?" 

"Touch me."

"Where?"

"Everywhere."

Everything in him is attuned to you, the need for you overpowering his common sense, his duty, his creed. You watch in shock as he depressurizes the mask, tugging it off and throwing it to the ground. 

You don't even have time to register what he's done or what you're seeing because his hands are gripping your face, his lips smashing against yours. Your cry is muffled as his tongue invades your mouth, desperate to taste every inch. Every swipe feels like cool relief to his searing flesh. 

You cry out in shock, pushing him off of you. Your mouth is wet from his saliva, lips tingling. You breathe shakily and finally your mind registers that there he is, bare-faced and his eyes are so beautiful and so pained that you almost lose your voice. 

He reaches for you again and you shove his bare chest with all you might, startling him and sending him backwards into the icy shower. He grips onto you instinctively for balance, dragging you into the water with him. 

You yelp at the cold sensation pelting against your thin tunic. But he doesn't let you go, he twists you until you're backed up against the metal wall of the shower, your bodies drenched. He's rutting against you, whimpering lowly before his mouth is at your jaw, sucking lightly.

"Mandalorian!" 

"Din," he groans against your temple, "my name is Din."

Din.

This takes your breath away. He's given you his real name. He's touching you in a way that makes you want more. You're confused because he's so irritating to you but he's also so sexy you're having trouble remembering that he shouldn't be touching you like this. 

You can admit there had been a curiosity about him, an attraction you denied to yourself. You thought it was because he was so cold and sharp, but here he is warm and soft and you want more of him. You want to see his face again. 

Now you willingly touch him, hands at his cheek pulling him back to face you. At the sensation of your hands on his flesh Din's eyes roll back in his head and he stops his thrusts against your thigh, trying to hold off the inevitable. You retract your grip.

He's so exquisite, even moreso like this with flushed cheeks, soaking wet, his full mouth dripping with water from the shower. He has facial hair, you see. Dark brown, thicker above his upper lip. His brows saddle and you see the pain and anguish in his face. 

"You're not thinking straight," you inform him. "This... Whatever it is, it's making you lose your faculties."

Din groans, nodding. One hand is above your shoulder, palm flat to hold him upright. You stare into his face, your eyes locked on his. It's there, a building pressure for you at the realization you want to feel more of him. 

But you can't. 

You're sopping wet, your tunic clinging to you, your hair stuck to your body and yet you try to affect a look of leadership. 

"Think for a second," you instruct him. "did the quarry say anything about what she gave you?" 

"L-luxuria Veve-verritas.” Din feels his cock throbbing at your nearness. It takes everything in him to stop from rutting against you. "I've never heard of it."

But you have. Your friend back home took it for over a year. You groan, hands scrubbing your face. Din's brows furrow. 

"What? What is it?" 

"It's popular on Navarro," you explain with a sigh. "A fertility drug. You're going to be like this until you come."

"I have!" Din roars. He points at the soaked trousers he still wears. "I didn't even have to touch myself!"

"Not by your own hand," you sigh. "The drug was invented for impregnation. You need to... Come inside…someone." 

There is a hideous silence, the only sound the still running water from the showerhead. Din swallows, trying to keep his voice steady. 

"How long will it last if I don’t?"

"Twelve hours." 

Din's eyes widen. "Twelve hours of this?" 

"That's only if you don't die before then," you say with a wince. "It's happened before. The blood temperature and..." 

You trail off. Din's eyes rove your body, his intention obvious. You frown. 

"You can stop right there if you think I'm going to let you have your way with me," you snap. "I'm your mechanic, not your Pleasure Droid." 

Din is trying not to touch himself, but he keeps rustling against his pants and it keeps catching the head of his leaking cock. His eyes are fixed on your mouth, your nipples poking through your thin tunic, your sweet face, he can't stop what's about to happen.

He lowers his mouth until it's almost grazing yours as he rolls his hips inside his trousers. His cock rubs against the stiff fabric. He cages you in against the wall, arms on either side of you. You're suffocated by his warmth, the scent of his soap and sweat, the length of his damp curls.

"Say my name," he urges, his voice on the thin edge of demanding and begging. You're hypnotized by the endless galaxy of his eyes.

"Din, I-"

You watch in mute fascination as he throws his head back, groaning lowly as his hips stutter against the air. He shudders, fucking the empty space between you, careful not to touch you as he comes in his trousers once more.  

His head sags forward and he's panting heavily next to you, his warm, bristled cheek almost touching yours.

"You have to stop doing that," you tell him when you find your breath. "Every time you do it makes it worse." 

"I can't help it!"

Din looks and sounds fucked out, his eyes heavy and his skin flushed. You take a moment to formulate a plan. 

"I'll tie you up so you can't move at all and then I'll lock you in here," you reason, trying not to notice how close he is to you. 

"You can't," he rasps, his mouth inches from your face. "It's getting stronger, this feeling."

"So?"

"So I know you're here on the ship," he rumbles. "On the other side of that door. And I promise you nothing is going to be able to keep me from snapping out of my restraints, breaking down that door and fucking you until I'm satisfied. Even if you left the ship I'd easily find you."

You shiver at his words, you’ve never heard Din swear like that. And he said this not to scare you but you let you know the severity of the situation. Your eyes go to his mouth, flicking there and then back to his heated gaze.  

"Carbonite!" 

Din blinks.  "What?"

"I'll get you to the Carbonite chamber! We'll pop you in there for twelve hours and you should be fine when you get out!"

Relief finds its way to Din's face and he nods. It's a long shot but he's desperate. The two of you scramble out of the shower. You pad towards the Carbonite holder in the back of the ship, the both of you dripping along the metal floor. 

But it's building too rapidly, the pull at Din's lower belly now clouding his mind. You're almost at the Carbonite chambers when you feel his strong arms around your middle, dragging you to the nearest wall of the ship and caging you there between his arms.

"What th-"

His wide hands pin your wrists to the wall above your head, his desperate mouth wedging between your jaw and neck. 

"I can't stop," he whines before sucking against your jaw. "Forgive me, please." 

"Din you don't want this," you say, humiliated as well as aroused. 

He hates you! On any other day he would gladly throw himself in Carbonite if it meant not speaking to you. 

"I've wanted to touch you for so long," Din murmurs more to himself than anything. You're confused by this, his mouth still nibbling the flesh of your neck, hands unpinning your wrists to travel along your body. 

"What?"

 "I fantasized about how soft your skin would be but this... " His thumb drags over your pebbled nipples under the damp tunic. "This is better than anything I could have imagined."

Din is rubbing his hips against you, his body feverish with need.

He wants this? He can't be lying, not in his condition. 

You want it too, a voice whispers in your mind.

The one you ignored on the nights you touched yourself to images of his beskar-clad self.  Those you denied when you felt your heart trip when he got a little to close to you during repairs. The feelings you told yourself couldn’t exist because you were so frustrated by him.

And yet now your thighs part willingly, allowing him to nestle between them as his hands explore your body. You encourage it, head tilting back so he can kiss you there more easily. 

But he wants to taste your mouth again, wants the cooling sensation that comes with your tongue dabbing his. He groans as he licks into your mouth, his hands gripping your ass, forcing it against his rolling hips. He's so close to coming again but he needs to do something first. 

His fingers curl up under your tunic, feeling your cunt slick and ready. Through the haze of lust he's shocked at this ready response from you. His fingers marvel at the softness there, the warmth as he slides two inside your dripping slot, the thumb circling your clit. 

You arch back immediately, gasping so raggedly you think they might hear you on the next planet. Pleasure, acute and sharp invades your entire body. 

"I'm sorry," he groans as his fingers begin to thrust in and out of you, mistaking your gasp for pain. "I'm sorry I can't stop." 

"Don't stop!"

You whimper, arms curling around his shoulders. The sound of your whimper makes him need something else entirely. The knowledge that so much has been deprived of him - taste, touch. This is likely his only chance.

He drops to his knees, his fingers still working inside your velvet clutch. He moves his mouth down your body, nipping as he goes. You gasp when he urges your thigh over his shoulder, his mouth coming to envelop your cunt. 

"Din!" 

He flicks his tongue against the pearl of your clit before his fingers and tongue begin to work in tandem, bringing you to the precipice of pleasure. You look down your body to see his dark eyes gazing up at you, pupils blown out, and his vision glassy. 

"For me," he growls between licks as he stares up at you from between your legs. "This is all for me."

You nod, making soft little mewling noises and then with a shuttering cry you come, hips rolling against his pouty mouth, hands gripping his hair as he drinks you down, feeling the heat in his body cooling slightly. 

You're still recovering when he pulls you into his arms, making his way to your makeshift bedroom behind the curtains. 

"I need more of you," he tells you, his growl making your body quiver. You stare up at him as he carries you to the mattress, struck with the intensity of his focus. 

You allow him to take you to the makeshift bedroom. He deposits you in the center before shucking off his trousers and letting them fall to the ground. You can only stare at his beautiful body, the perfect size of his cock, the glow of his tanned skin. 

He urges your tunic off, letting it fall with a splat on the floor of the ship. You're bared to him and Din feels his brows saddle as he crawls on top of you. 

"Mesh'la" he breathes, not thinking. 

You're so fucking beautiful. So perfect for him as you lay there, flushed and ready for him. He wants to take his time licking and sucking every part of you, but time is of the essence. His tip is already weeping. 

He pulls back only so that one hand can snake between legs, lining his aching cock up with your sex. But something of his inner strength stops him, gritting his teeth as he looks at you. You’re flushed, gazing up at him with all the trust in the world. It makes his chest flutter.

"Tell me to stop," he groans, his eyes fiery. "Tell me to stop and I will. I'll manage the twelve hours, I'll-"

"Do it," you interrupt him with a breathless nod. Your thighs part, urging him. You need to feel him or you're going to go insane yourself. 

That's all he needs. With your faces inches apart he feeds his cock into you, your eyes locked. The both of you offer little groans against each other's parted mouths as the pleasure ignites. 

"Oh, oh it's," your words aren't there. 

"Good?" 

"More than good." 

Din smiles for the first time and you feel your heart hiccup in your chest. He has a dimple in his cheek, his eyes warm, his nose strong and- 

You cry out as he withdraws and then slams himself to the hilt. He cringes at the force of his need, looking down at you with concern. You're staring up at him, eyes wide, hands splayed loosely above your head on the mattress. 

"Are you-"

"Again," you breathe, hips undulating. "Harder."

Your hands tug his neck and bring his face to meet yours. He exhales in delight as your mouth finds his. He kisses you with need as his hips rock into yours brutally, the slapping sound echoing off the ship walls. You're so wet and warm, he can’t slow down. 

And you take him so well, your legs crossed at the ankle around his middle, your flesh recoiling with every snap of his hips against yours. He moves back on his hands, eager to watch your breasts jostle and your body respond to his.

He plunges into you again and again, the pleasure building. It starts at the base of his spine and the top of his head, a sparkly tight feeling that increases as you bounce under him. 

You can only watch as he tilts back, both sets of eyes going to where you join. You're both slick with sweat, your bodies glistening. When he withdraws you both see him glossy and thick. 

“Need it deeper,” he grunts.

He urges both your knees to crook up over his shoulders, almost bending you in half. He wants to see everything and from this angle your pussy looks juicy and delicious. He wants to taste you again, but the need to come inside you is overwhelming. 

He's never done this without his mask, never in the light. He can see everything and when he thrusts forward and sinks into you from this angle the both of you groan once more at the sight and sensation of him burying himself within you. 

"We look so good together," he breathes, not quite believing it. "So perfect.”

This draws a shaky sigh from you, both in pleasure and delight at his response. Your hand cups his cheek, strangely moved. He grins down at you again and his tempo increases, his eyes fluttering shut. 

"So good," he moans, sending the mattress bouncing as he fucks deeply into you. "Knew you'd feel so good." 

"You've thought about this?" You ask, curious even as your eyelids crash together in pleasure. 

"I’ve thought about fucking you every day," he admits, feeling you tighten around him. "Since the day you came aboard." 

You want to ask him more, but he's hitting that perfect spot and you can feel all rational thought leaving you, replaced with a blissful pleasure that floods your body. 

You come on his cock, your body twitching as you arch up from the mattress. Din watches this in awe of your beauty and open desire, grunting as he continues at that same pace, watching you fall apart for him. 

He feels your walls start fluttering against the head of him and let's out a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Your eyes crack open, your expression a lazy pout. 

"Please Din," you beg, your body coiled. At the sound of his name he moans, you feel his cock piston between your legs in a fervor and then... 

He tenses and comes deep inside you. He floods you, his groans of your name and how good you are are muttered against your mouth. His arms wrap around you and yours around his neck. You kiss him fiercely as he empties himself into you, hips stuttering. 

You take him, and it feels like forever until he shudders to a stop, his leg twitching before he sags against you. Concerned he'll crush you, he rolls back onto the mattress. 

You lay there in silence, noting that he finally appears to be softening. He takes the blanket at your feet and pulls it over the both of you, aware of his modesty. 

You suddenly feel very naked, not just in body. You're desperate to focus on anything side from the fact that your arms touch as you both gaze up at the ships roof, your cunt aching and full of him. 

"How do you feel?"

"Good," he says through a frog in his throat. "The pain is gone."

He turns to look at you and you feel compelled to stare back. 

"Okay good. I'm glad I could help." 

He nods slowly in understanding. You can't stop looking at his face, concerned that he's so beautiful you're never going to be able to forget.  You think of his words only moments before, his hushed confession.

I’ve thought about fucking you every day. Since the day you came aboard.

He looks at you gently, amazed at how beautiful you are. The beauty he's tried to distance himself from through cruelty and isolation. The beauty that distracts him when he should be focused on finding quarry. 

"Wait here."

Din watches as you roll out of the bed, grabbing a towel from your chair to cover yourself and walking away. Left with his thoughts Din feels a strange anguish overtaking him. You’re leaving him, you’re leaving the kid.

He doesn’t want you to go.

You return seconds later with his helmet in your hands, grunting a bit with the strain of the beskars weight. 

"Here," you say awkwardly holding the helmet out to him. "I won't say anything."

Din takes it with gratitude, concern swelling in his belly. He sits up on the bed, the helmet on his lap. You come to sit cross legged on the end of the bed, watching him. 

"Thank you for everything." 

"Of course."

A strange sadness is creeping into your body, a feeling you weren't anticipating. 

Din is crushed, knowing that your time is at an end. You'll never want to talk to him after this. Tomorrow he'll take you to Borr'rha and you'll never see one another again. He tries very hard not to look defeated. 

"I better get back to the cockpit," he rasps. "I know how eager you are to get to Borr'rha."

You watch as he raises the helmet, about to replace it when you lean forward, hand reaching towards him. 

"Wait."

Din stops, letting the helmet fall back to his lap. 

"What is it?" He asks gently, his heart picking up speed as you crawl over the mattress to him. 

He hastily moves the helmet to the side so that you can perch yourself there on his lap. 

To your relief you feel him begin to swell under the sheets when your arms wrap around his neck, a gentle smile on your lips. 

"Just one more kiss?" 

tagging those of you that showed interest!

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @almostempty @bitchesuntitled @honestly-really-magnificent @dindjarinsonlyfans @joeldidnothingwrong @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack @eff4freddie @sjc7542 @lizzie-cakes @almostfoxglove @getitoutofmymindwrites @realmamabear79 @cuteanimalmama @djarins-cyare @burningfieldof-clover @swankyorange @thischarmingmandalorian @ashleyfilm @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @cozylittlepigeon @tobethlehem @pastawench @docharleythegeekqueen

Dividers provided by @saradika

Across The Stars

Word Count: 5815 Rating: MATURE 18+ MDNI Summary: Your riduur, Din Djarin, whisks you away to Naboo to enjoy the Festival of Love celebrations on the bountiful planet. While there, you reflect on just how much the formidable man, who chose you to be his, truly means to you. Content Warnings: Non-graphic smut, vaguely suggestive scenes but the acts/body parts aren't explicitly described. Author's Note: Happy Valentine's Day friends! In my head, this fic takes place in the same universe as A New Dawn. As you can tell, the yearning was intense this year so things got a little steamier than I expected when I sat down to write this. But I actually quite enjoyed writing such scenes lol, even though I don't really consider myself a smut writer, especially not for x reader fics. The urge hits once every few months and (un)luckily for you it coincided with Valentine's day hehe. Anywayyyy, really hope you enjoyed this one, would love to know your thoughts. Thanks as always for reading!

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

For the first few months after you had begun travelling around the galaxy with a Mandalorian, you had felt somewhat self-conscious about how many eyes he drew. No matter which planet you visited, it appeared that people were unable to avert their gaze away from him. You understood it, to some extent. After all, Mandalorians were feared throughout the galaxy for their formidable fighting ability, their ruthlessness and deadly accuracy. 

Before you began travelling with Din, you would probably have joined the throngs of people who gawped at him. You certainly had the first time you had laid eyes on him, when he strolled into the run-down cantina where you worked, seeking information for some shadowy figure’s whereabouts. Fortunately, you had intimate knowledge of the location the lead would take him to. So you had joined him to guide him and simply never left. 

He used The Child, who you would eventually discover was named Grogu, as an excuse to keep you around. Din had offered you a job as his caregiver as he desperately needed one for when he was off capturing his bounties. But you always knew – even back then, long before you had confessed your feelings to each other – that he genuinely appreciated your company too.

After a while, the self-consciousness you felt when walking around various planets with a Mandalorian gave way to feelings of bitter jealousy. You hated that others got to look at him, with his broad shoulders and confident swagger. How dare they look at the man you placed above all others with their undeserving eyes? Such feelings of resentment threatened to consume your entire being. 

Everything changed after you and Din had confessed your feelings for each other. 

Now, there was no jealousy, no possessiveness. You were secure in the love he showed towards you, revelling in it and relishing every moment when he took the opportunity to remind you of how deeply he adored you. Since that fateful day when your relationship with Din had changed permanently, there had been no such feelings when you stepped out with him. So, when Din had whisked you away to Naboo, on a trip to coincide with the Festival of Love which was famously celebrated on the bountiful planet, there were no lingering negative emotions. Just immense pride and contentment that this man was all yours. 

As you strolled through the wide main street towards the Theed Royal Palace, where you would enjoy a guided tour, many of the townsfolk and tourists alike were dazzled by the presence of a Mandalorian on their planet. You watched with a small smirk as they stopped and stared, excitedly pointing at the gleaming Mandalorian who was strolling down the streets as they chattered enthusiastically in hushed tones. Such an experience would once have irritated you, perhaps you would have even snapped at them. Now, though, you were secure in the knowledge that no matter how many people looked in his direction... ultimately, it was you, not them, who was beside him. No one ever else would get to know The Mandalorian in the same way that you did. He had chosen you, and you alone, to be by his side for the rest of your lives. 

You had long known that Din only wanted you, but it had recently been confirmed with the vows you had sworn together – the riduurok. You had promised to be one when together and parted, to share all and to raise warriors. It was a solemn Mandalorian ritual which had cemented your commitment to one another, and you liked the fact that it was not an intensely formal experience. You and Din had woken up one day in the cabin you shared on Nevarro and decided that it was finally time to take the step. By nightfall, you were riduurs. 

If your marriage wasn’t already enough, to prove your commitment to each other, the strong arm that snaked its way around your waist certainly was. You sighed happily when a gloved hand settled on your hip before Din drew you into his side. Such a move only served to further underline your commitment to each other for any onlookers. It was clear that The Mandalorian was taken. And he belonged to you.

Being on Naboo, in the bustling, beautiful city of Theed, already made you feel as though there was something magical in the air. A palpable electricity, perhaps. But glancing over at the broad, handsome man in all of his glistening, unpainted beskar’gam glory as he held you close to him made you feel positively dizzy with glee. You knew his actions were as much for your benefit as it was for his. Din knew how shy you had felt about being in public with him at first, so he always made a point of drawing you close. Yet, you also knew how much Din loved holding you in his arms. There were days when he could not keep his hands off you, which was sometimes problematic when a certain green child was running around. 

Din was always an attentive father though. He had once told you that The Child was his only priority and you knew that while Grogu’s wellbeing was still of paramount importance to him, somewhere on the way his capacity for love had expanded to include you, too. You hoped that Grogu was enjoying his time with Peli Motto on Tatooine. When planning your trip away, there had only been one name on your list who the pair of you trusted with your child. While you knew that Grogu could be a handful sometimes, you were certain that he had more than met his match in the eccentric mechanic of Mos Eisley Hangar 3-5.

Being away from the little boy for a few days was surely difficult for Din, and you knew holding the only member of Clan Mudhorn in his presence close to him was for his comfort as much as yours. Despite his initial shyness, Din loved to show everyone that you were his by placing his hands upon you when you were in public. His tight hold on your waist conveyed a strong message to the people of Theed: this Mandalorian was taken. No amount of staring or gawking on the part of any passersby would ever change that fact. 

✯✯✯

Your first day on Naboo had been a complete whirlwind. There had scarcely been time to breathe. After your tour of the Theed Royal Palace was complete, rather than staying in Naboo’s capital, you and Din took a transport to the small oceanside city of Kaadara where you had spent your first evening. Din had felt that, while stunning, Theed was a little too crowded and filled with tourists for his liking. Although you had both enjoyed spending a few hours there strolling in the sun, mesmerised by the architecture and stunning decorations that adorned the trees and buildings to commemorate the ongoing Festival of Love, spending time in such a bustling city had been incredibly draining for the pair of you. 

Kaadara was equally stunning and slightly more secluded, although it was still heaving with tourists. You had not seen much of the city the previous evening, it had been almost nightfall when you arrived at the shuttle port and well after when you finally reached your lodgings. As much as the two of you had wanted to take advantage of the fact you were alone, without a certain unruly green child to distract you, in a beautiful hotel room… you had been much too tired to use the luxurious sleeper for anything other than getting some much-needed rest.

And it was a decision that you certainly were not regretting as you sat on the private oceanside terrace of one of the numerous outdoor cafés which dotted the beachfront of Kaadara the following morning. You felt well-rested and able to appreciate the moment. You knew that the pair of you would have plenty of opportunities to make up for lost time during the rest of your trip. Plus, your early night had meant that you had been able to watch the sunrise over the beach together, hand in hand. It had been a perfect moment, Din’s beskar’gam glinting a mesmerising array of oranges and reds. 

With your plates cleaned, the two of you were enjoying a few minutes of calm before making your next move. The secluded nature of the terrace meant that Din had been able to remove his helmet to enjoy a meal with you, a luxury that you were not often afforded as you travelled around the galaxy together. Even savouring food was a gift the pair of you were rarely afforded, with your busy lives and energetic child to raise. You sat there, utterly entranced by the handsome man before you. Your riduur. You admired Din’s strong side profile as he gazed out across towards the ocean. His strong nose, scruffy facial hair and long eyelashes were a feast for your eyes to match the feast of Nubian delicacies you had just enjoyed for breakfast. You adored looking at the way his curls wafted in the breeze, his tan skin perfectly in keeping with his surroundings. 

“I like it here,” Din mused as he took a sip of caf. “But there are a few too many people here for my liking. What do you think?”

“I agree, Din,” you nodded. “I’m guessing our final destination is somewhere more secluded?” 

Despite your hopes, Din did not fall for your subtle prodding for answers. You knew he was much too experienced thanks to a life of bounty hunting for that. Since leaving Theed, Din had been tight-lipped about your ultimate destination. All you knew for certain was that you were only staying for one night in Kaadara. Only your riduur knew where you would remain for the rest of your trip. 

After leaving the café, the two of you took one last stroll along the beachfront before you returned to your lodgings and collected your bags. Despite you insisting on helping to carry them, Din refused. Instead, he shouldered the weight of all of the heavy bags by himself. It was a feat made all the more impressive by the fact he held them in one arm and hand, to keep one hand free so he could lace his gloved fingers with yours. You beamed at him, wondering if he had any idea just how much you adored him. 

Since Din had revealed you were leaving Kaadara, you had fully expected that the two of you would head to the shuttle port where you had arrived only the previous evening. Instead, you gave Din a quizzical look as he led you away from the city centre, towards the city’s industrial quarter. You were even more confused when it appeared that Din was leading you towards a small, dilapidated building. You gave Din another questioning look, but he just shrugged and pushed the door.

It was not what you had been expecting at all. The rundown, forgotten building appeared to be a parking garage, with a vast array of speeder bikes and other vehicles parked up against the dull, grey walls. You watched with amusement as the Gungan who had been sitting on a chair, almost fell off it at the sound of the bell attached to the door, which signalled your and Din’s arrival. You had never met one before, but Din had explained the unique history of Kaadara to you. It was a city where Gungans and humans had lived side by side, where the locals had welcomed interactions with the native Gungan population rather than discriminated against them and exiled them. 

The peculiar, yet endearing, character soon recovered, and greeted you:

“Wow! Heyday ho, welcomen!” The Gungan chirped. “Me've never seen a real Mandalorian, me'm honoured to meet yousa!”

“Nice to meet you too,” Din nodded. His greeting was friendly, but he was keeping his distance from the Gungan. You could imagine him rolling his eyes under his helmet, finding this sort of attention embarrassing. 

“Yousa hair per da speeder bike?” The Gungan asked. 

“Certainly am,” Din confirmed. 

“Okeeday! Followen mesa, sir,” the Gungan jabbered as he beckoned Din to follow him.

You lingered by the door as the Gungan showed the bike to Din, who examined it by running his gloves over the saddle and handlebars, appraising the quality of the craftsmanship. You bit your lip, admiring the way his hands roamed over the surface. It had been several days since Din had touched you like that and you hoped you would have an opportunity tonight. His hands could be so soft and tender, even though they had been responsible for so many destructive acts throughout the galaxy. Before you could get lost in your thoughts any further, Din concluded the transaction by tossing the Gungan a bag of credits.

You watched, transfixed as Din pushed the bike out of the garage, his muscles barely straining despite its enormous weight. You followed him out of the building, bidding farewell to the Gungan as you went. 

“A speeder bike?” You questioned, raising your eyebrows in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Din nodded. “Quickest way to get to our destination.”

“I’ve never ridden one before,” you confessed nervously.

“It’s fine, cyare,” Din reassured you, placing a hand on the small of your back. “You just have to sit behind me and wrap your arms around me. Do you think you can do that?”

You nodded eagerly. Being in such proximity to Din was an intoxicating prospect, one that immediately sent a shiver of desire coursing through your body. You were on fire for him. Although it was just the two of you on this vacation, it scarcely felt as though you had truly enjoyed a moment to yourself in private, where you could act on your desires. You knew that was precisely how Din had planned it as he wanted to show you as much of the planet as possible during your short time here. But with such a gorgeous riduur, it was hard not to yearn for his touch. You almost ached with want. So, the speeder bike seemed like a perfect compromise. Wrapping your arms around Din sounded like a dreamy way to spend the rest of the afternoon as you hurtled to your next destination. 

You practically moaned in delight when you straddled the speeder seat, as your cheek came to rest on Din’s firm back, just underneath his broad shoulders. Your arms easily wrapped around his waist. For a man so vast, his waist was surprisingly slim compared to his shoulders. It was a contrast you loved, and this position in particular gave you a prime opportunity to take full advantage of his physique. You felt the safety and security of his enormous frame, with the softness of the man beneath the beskar as your arms rested around his narrow waist.

You squealed with delight as Din fired up the speeder bike and began hurtling out of the city. Although you found yourself somewhat sad to leave Kaadara behind, it had been a beautiful location after all, you couldn’t deny that you were excited to head for a more secluded location. It was a city which already attracted tourists in their droves, but thanks to the ongoing Festival of Love that coincided with your visit, the streets had been bursting with people. You knew that Din would be just as eager as you were to head for somewhere more secluded. By journeying elsewhere, away from lots of people, you hoped that Din would be able to relax and switch off fully. Your Mandalorian rarely seemed to be able to rest, it was in his nature.

The many breathtaking sights of Naboo whizzed past as you and Din hurtled across the planet on your speeder bike. You relished the warm skin you could feel below the layers, never tiring of feeling your Mandalorian in your arms. A gentle sigh left your body as you appreciated not just the feeling of Din in your arms, but the beauty of your surroundings. You passed breathtaking rolling hills, each one covered in lush green grass and a variety of flowers. There were several lakes and towns with beautiful domed architecture which took your breath away.

You and Din had made storming progress, save for one moment when he had to slow down and then stop entirely for a particularly unruly herd of shaak lolloped into your path. You did not mind the inconvenience though, despite Din’s grumbles, delighting in the fact you were able to gaze at the peculiar beasts so closely. As the hours passed, you still had no way of guessing your ultimate destination, but you trusted that wherever it was, Din had chosen a perfect setting for the final days of your vacation. Already on this trip, you appreciated his consideration and all the thoughts that had gone into planning such a vacation. You couldn’t believe that it could get any better than this.

Although your journey felt as though it had only taken a few minutes – you were so enthralled by the various sights and sounds that time had seemed to pass at a rapid pace – several hours later, you finally made it to your ultimate destination. 

“Welcome to the Lake Country, cyare,” Din finally said, when the speeder’s pace had slowed enough that he could be heard.

You were stunned that Din had gone to such lengths to bring you here. You had heard whispers of how beautiful the lakes of Naboo were, how secluded and isolated they were, their location nestled between the most beautiful hills. Instantly, you saw that the rumours were correct and found yourself immediately in awe of your surroundings. It was the most stunning place you had ever been, not least because of the stunning man who you had travelled here with.

Din dismounted the bike first, offering you a gloved hand to help you off the saddle. The hours of riding should have taken their toll and caused you to seize up, but a combination of your beautiful surroundings and handsome companion had done wonders for your joints. You had no aches and pains. Din grabbed your belongings and headed towards the building he had brought you to. You followed Din, admiring his broad shoulders and gleaming beskar as you went. Even from behind he was a sight to behold. 

When you finally glimpsed your immediate surroundings, you were awestruck by the opulence of the lodgings Din had selected, even slightly embarrassed as you considered how expensive it must have been. You knew that Din worked hard and the New Republic paid him handsomely, not least because of how skilled he was at his job, but you still felt slightly embarrassed that he was splurging on you. As if he could detect your slight hesitancy, when the man behind the desk turned to get your keys, Din addressed your unease.

“Relax, cyare. We can afford this,” Din whispered, comfortingly.

“Are you sure Din? I can’t even imagine how much this cost,”

“Good job you don’t have to,” Din nodded, bringing his hand to the small of your back once again.

You sighed, knowing that you should not allow such a small thing to ruin such a perfect vacation. You wanted to appreciate every second. You glanced around the reception, with its marble floors and wide, floor-to-ceiling windows which led straight to the lake just by the hotel, you found your shoulders relaxing slightly. Appreciating the sounds of the birds chirping, the leaves rustling in the slight breeze and the water lapping around the side of the lake only relaxed you further. You trusted Din entirely, with every atom of your being. If he said that you could afford this and wanted you to have a good time, then that was precisely what you would do. 

After the man behind the ornate oak desk handed you the keys, you and Din made your way upstairs to your room. Once again, Din refused all of your offers to help him with the bags. You rolled your eyes at him affectionately, he could be so stubborn sometimes, but you knew his heart was always in the right place.

As soon as you stepped through the door to your suite, you heard Din remove your helmet from behind you. But you were too transfixed by the sight before you to turn to face him, despite how much you yearned to look at him after so many hours of hiding his handsome features behind his helmet. 

You were standing in the most incredible room you had ever seen, with a breathtaking view of the lake outside. Your eyes should have been awed by the pristine water just outside the window, but instead, you found your gaze focusing on a bouquet of beautiful red flowers which was standing on the ebony table with the intricately carved base which sat just in front of the windows.

As you got closer, you realised it was a bouquet of Millaflowers, a local flower plucked fresh from the meadows of Naboo. The red blooms of the flowers took your breath away as you stood before them, shimmering in the late afternoon sun. You reached out to caress the soft petal between your thumb and forefinger.

“They’re beautiful, Din,” you sighed in appreciation. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, mesh’la,” Din replied, his voice low as you heard his heavy footsteps approach. “Beautiful Millaflowers for my beautiful riduur,” Din whispered as he snaked his arms around your waist, nuzzling kisses into your neck. 

There were so many incredible sights which lay just beyond the confines of your room, stunning beauty that you had been determined to see until the first touch of Din’s lips against your skin. Now, nothing out there seemed as appealing as the prospect of getting the gorgeous man, who was ardently trailing kisses down your neck, into the luxurious four-poster sleeper a few paces away.

“Din, the lakes,” you murmured, in a feeble attempt to stop his ministrations. Outstanding beauty was abundant just beyond your room, you knew that it would be a waste to miss enjoying such a landscape by giving into your desire for each other. 

“Later, cyare,” Din whispered as he spun you around in his arms so that you were facing him. 

With one look in those brown eyes, darkened with lust, you knew that resisting any further was not an option. The lakes could wait, Din seemed determined to have you, and who were you to deny him what he wanted? Your riduur banished all further protestations which lingered on your tongue by capturing your mouth with his plush lips. You moaned softly and Din pulled away, his chest heaved from kissing you so eagerly. You noticed, with a smirk, that his lips were already swollen, such was the ferocity of your kisses.

“Dank farrik, I want you so badly,” Din breathed. You could tell that he was struggling to contain his desires, not least because of the hardness you felt trapped between your bodies. 

“Then take me, Din,” you whispered, biting your lip as you extended the invitation to him.

The giggles that had started when Din scooped you up into his strong arms and carried you across the room to the sleeper, soon vanished. Your lighthearted yelps and shrieks turned to lustful gasps and moans. Din had delicately placed you on the luxurious sheets and wasted no time as he began showing you precisely how much he desired you. He worshipped your body with his mouth, attentive to your every moan, listening carefully to your reactions which dictated precisely where he placed his fingers and tongue. Din dove into his task as though he was a starving man, with all the care and dexterity that had served him so well during his many years as a bounty hunter…

✯✯✯

Later, you were grateful for the breeze which wafted into the room through the opened windows. It cooled your entangled bodies as you lay there in the afterglow. Din was wrapped around you as tightly as the vines, which could be found in the thick undergrowth surrounding the lake and periodically crept up the stunning stone buildings that were so characteristic of the town. The croaking and chirping of the animals outside merged perfectly with Din’s even breaths, it was a much-needed moment of peace after such a hectic day. When you had cried his name out one last time in ecstasy, Din had finally allowed himself to join you. He chanted your name as though it were a sacred prayer. Then, he had gathered you against his chest, your head resting against his strong, broad warmth which you almost wanted to engulf you. You had watched with a smirk, from your position on his warm, firm chest as his lids had grown heavy. Although you wanted to enjoy your evening with Din and make the most of your time here, you could not begrudge him some rest. He had certainly earned it, not just for his exertions between the satin sheets of your four-poster sleeper, but also in planning such a thoughtful trip. 

✯✯✯

Plush, soft lips that placed a tender kiss on your forehead roused you from the slumber you had unintentionally fallen into. Apparently, you had joined Din in a peaceful, much-needed nap to regain your strength after your earlier pursuits. Your eyelids fluttered open, to see the strong nose and soulful brown eyes of your riduur staring back at you. If he didn’t stop looking at you like that, you feared that the two of you would leave the Lake Country without having seen anything except your four-poster sleeper. Then, Din leaned in to capture your lips with his, his warm breath hot against your face. You smiled against Din’s mouth as your lips brushed against each other. You giggled softly in the early evening light as his facial hair tickled your face. Recently, he had begun to keep his whiskers a little longer, allowing the scruff around his jaw to grow out. It was a sight you adored, your heart swelling as he pulled away, allowing you to admire his more distinguished appearance, as the patchy brown hairs were now smattered with grey. 

“So handsome,” you breathed, cupping Din’s jaw with your hand and gazing at him reverentially.

“Cyare,” Din warned, his eyes dark with lust again. “If we don’t stop…” Din trailed off, swallowing thickly. “I can’t keep my hands off you. We won’t see anything of this town…”

✯✯✯

Although it was a few hours later than you had anticipated, you and Din had finally made it out of your lodgings. You had made various attempts at leaving the sleeper, only to find strong arms and large hands hungrily pulling you back into his embrace. Finally, you had insisted on leaving the satin sheets and Din’s arms in order to use the fresher. You had thought you had gotten away with it. You were confident of it, in fact. That was until you switched on the shower.

Your thoughts had been quite innocent as the sight of a real shower had been too much to resist. You were so used to the unsatisfying sonic of your cabin on Nevarro, that the prospect of washing yourself in a real shower had been too tempting for your resolve. Apparently, imagining your naked form underneath the hot jets of a real shower had also sparked something in Din and he had soon joined you, delaying your departure further. You had to admit it had been well worth it, though. 

When Din had eventually left you alone long enough so that you could finally put some clothes on, the two of you enjoyed a peaceful dinner on the private terrace which was attached to your room. You were not used to such luxuries and once again felt almost embarrassed, but Din had reminded you not to worry. 

Your lips curved into a smile when you remembered the way he had looked into your eyes and said so earnestly:

“I want to take care of you, ner riduur, and treat you to the finest things in the galaxy. You deserve only the finest things in life.”

Although you had called for dinner slightly later than you had initially planned, thankfully the staff had been happy to accommodate you. Having dinner brought to you was a luxurious experience. Clearly, the hotel was used to entertaining the galaxy’s elite. You were not used to being made to feel so important and were initially embarrassed, but with Din’s soothing presence by your side, accompanied by his kind words, you struggled to feel anything except relaxed.

Now, the two of you were strolling towards one of the more secluded lakes so that you could take a swim together. Although the town was already relatively quiet, you and Din wanted to relax away from anyone else. You hoped that he would be able to remove his helmet, but you were not expecting it. You would never push him to make such a move, respecting his adherence to his Creed entirely. 

The various lakeside creatures were chirping in the warm, breezy air. You sighed in contentment and squeezed Din’s free hand tightly, delighted that you could feel his skin on your own. He carried a small basket in one hand and held your hand in the other. Din was dressed down in cotton clothing, without his beskar’gam, save for the helmet. Despite the clothes’ intended loose style, the material still hugged his frame and accentuated a feature you loved so much: his broad shoulders. 

It was the final evening of the Festival of Love celebration, a culmination of several days of festivities and various people were milling around the secluded town. Although Din’s helmet was still drawing eyes from the various couples you passed, they were not as piercing as the gazes you drew when Din was dressed in full beskar’gam. It was exhilarating to be surrounded by so many people who were equally as in love as the two of you, strolling around the lakes and enjoying each other’s company, just like you and Din. 

Before you met Din, you weren’t sure whether you believed in true love, or soulmates. To be honest, you still weren’t entirely sure even now. However, you knew that if either of the things existed, Din was your answer to those questions. There was not one day that had gone by since you had confessed your feelings for each other that he had not made you feel all of his love. You knew that you were the most important thing in the galaxy to him, alongside Grogu, of course. There was not one place he would not travel to for you, likewise you would follow him anywhere. You had never doubted the depth of his devotion to you. If you thought about it for long enough, it could almost reduce you to tears. 

Fortunately, before you could fully break down into tears over how much you loved your incredible riduur, the two of you finally arrived at the lake. Despite the sun having set several hours ago, it was an incredibly humid night on Naboo and you were eager to dive into the cool waters. You hastily began removing your outer clothes to reveal your swimwear and heard the rustling of Din behind you doing the same. You were so caught up in undressing yourself, that you were stunned when you turned around to be greeted by the sight before you.

“Din, your helmet…” you murmured, shocked at his appearance. You had not heard his helmet depressurise, the last thing you had been anticipating was that his brown eyes would be peering back at you. 

“It’s fine, cyare. We’re alone,” Din reassured you, dismissing your concerns. “Besides, it’s as dark as Malachor out here. Even if someone were to happen upon us, they wouldn’t be able to see anything.”

You nodded slowly, accepting his explanation. Adhering to Din’s creed was important to him and it was something that always lingered in the back of your mind. If he was ever rendered an apostate on account of something he had done for your benefit, you would never be able to forgive yourself. Fortunately, you had no more time to dwell on that depressing thought and the importance of his Way, as Din turned on his heel and dived into the cool water below. He shrieked slightly at the coldness, before emerging and pushing his wet curls away from his eyes.

“What are you waiting for?!” Din yelled, encouraging you to join him.

You ran up to the lake’s edge, giggling as you went. The laughter was halted abruptly as the coldness of the water shocked your body, as though needles pricked every inch of your body. The shock dissipated as you resurfaced, but you were still keen to locate your riduur in the lake and feel Din’s body next to yours. You sighed contentedly as Din’s strong arm snaked around your waist and pulled you in close to him. 

✯✯✯

After swimming to your heart's content, you and Din cuddled up together on a blanket by the water’s edge. Your head lay on his bare, muscular chest as his arms curved around and under your body, resting together on your waist. Every few minutes, he would drop a lazy kiss somewhere on your face. You were certain you had never been in more beautiful surroundings in your entire life. It was far after dark now, but every star in the entire galaxy seemed to be burning brightly above your heads. You sighed happily as the twinkling stars were joined by a throng of fireflies glinting around the lake. You could faintly make out the lapping of the waves and the silhouette of the hills all around you. Everything was perfect. 

Somehow, it was about to get better.

It seemed that Naboo had one final surprise for you. It was a surprise that was initially an unwelcome one, as the explosions startled you at first. Sensing your anxiety, Din placed a protective arm around you, drawing you further into his side as he placed a soft kiss on your temple.

“They’re just fireworks, cyare,” Din murmured against your skin. “To celebrate the Festival of Love.”

You relaxed then, appreciating the moment. You wanted to commit every moment to memory, every juncture where your body touched Din’s. The chirping and croaking of the creatures, the water lapping against the lake’s edge. The technicolour sparks that rained down across the valley on every side. Your jaw hung open in wonder as you looked up, across the stars and the fireworks.

You were certain that you had never felt so happy and loved in your entire life. 

Hold You in My Arms

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Even with its outdated interior and the limitations that entails, The Razor Crest is your home. You find there is a certain charm about the old ship even if the bunk is a little uncomfortable. Though, it's even better when there is a Mandalorian to cuddle, armour and all. Word Count:  2k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: None! ✯ Author's Note: This is set pre-series! A little tooth-rottingly sweet fluffy oneshot for this fine Friday. I wanted to make Din a human weighted-blanket and I yearn to run my fingers through his curls. This was the result. Hope you enjoyed! (The title comes from the song Starlight by Muse).

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

The sensation of cool metal against your cheek rudely interrupts the warm embrace of sleep, within which you were blissfully enveloped until only moments ago. You recoil at the sudden frigidity, your sleep-addled brain struggling to comprehend the cause for your discomfort. The presence has mercilessly encroached into the peaceful state of slumber you had drifted off into. Which is a miraculous feat, given the cramped surroundings you retire to each night.

Somehow, nestled between the thin sheets that lay atop the firm bunk – which causes your back to ache if you fall asleep in ever so slightly the wrong position – you have been in such a deep, restful state of sleep that being so rudely awakened from it almost makes you want to sob at the injustice. After all, it is a marvel that you ever found yourself so comfortable in the first place. The cramped bunk is tucked away like an afterthought in a corner of the dark hull that forms the main living area of the ship you soar through the stars in. 

Yet, the ship has not been racing through the stars for the past few days. Instead, you have found yourself confined to the groaning metallic structure as you await the return of the man who made your new life possible. Din Djarin rescued you from a monotonous, destitute life and whisked you away in the stars, a debt that you are certain you will never adequately repay. It doesn’t stop you from trying your best every day that you are privileged enough to spend at his side though. A feat you at least attempt, by pouring every ounce of yourself into loving him. You know that Din never expects anything in return. Everything he has is yours and he adores providing for you, finally having a purpose for the payments he receives from bounty hunting. Even so, you can’t help but feel as though you owe him. So, you do your best to love him unconditionally. 

Before you met Din, he was a solitary figure, cutting a lonely path through the galaxy. You changed everything. Din often compares you to a sunrise after a dark night, one that he did not realise quite how grim and gloomy it had been. You are a vibrant presence that brought light into his life. He never tires of telling you how much you mean to him, how deeply he loves you. With all of that in mind, how could you not put everything into loving a man as incredible as Din Djarin?

At present, though, you almost want to throttle him. 

As when your eyelids fly open at the frigid contact, it is the distinctive gleam of beskar that you find next to you. Din’s helmet sparkles even in the dim light of the ship. Until you noticed Din’s dazzling headgear, you were fully prepared to admonish the perpetrator for being so cruel as to wake you up. Yet, when you discover that it is the man whose presence you have been pining for, your anger begins to subside.

It seems that Din has decided to join you on the impossibly small bunk. A fact that would not be such a problem, had Din not clambered onto the bunk without removing a single piece of his armour. Still, at the sight of him next to you, your anger dissipates as quickly as it had begun. The bubbling raging cauldron of fire and fury in the pit of your stomach soon evaporates with a whimper. Your momentary enragement at the intrusion into the serenity you had found in the bunk, despite the uncomfortable odds stacked against you miraculously faded the instant you laid eyes upon the culprit.

While you were sleeping, Din apparently returned from collecting his latest bounty. Clearly, the job has taken its toll, as he has sought rest instantly, still clad in his beskar'gam. Din nestles into your shoulder and you can feel the full heft of his armour, cool and hard against your skin, even through the thin sheet. Even though Din is exhausted and desperately needs sleep, he was so eager to be close to you that he decided to enter the cramped space to lie with you. 

Even though you are certain that Din can't possibly be comfortable given the position he has taken up, you still have no desire for him to leave. Somewhat selfishly, you are enjoying the sensation of him and the warmth his presence causes in you, despite the coldness of his beskar. 

“Din,” you finally sigh, “There isn’t enough room for both of us.”

“Am I hurting you?” Din asks sleepily.

“No, but—”

“Then, there’s room.”

Din’s tone of voice does not leave room for debate. You can’t help but smirk at his determination to remain cuddled up with you. Collecting his latest bounty has rendered him so exhausted that he cannot even muster the strength to remove his armour. With its inflexibility and heft, it cannot possibly be pleasant to lie in, but Din is apparently so desperate to be in your arms that it seems he has sacrificed his own comfort to be close to you.

“You can’t be comfortable, Din,” you observe, shaking your head at his determination to lie in your arms. “Let me get up and give you the bunk to rest properly, I’ll nap in the cockpit chair.”

Your offer to sleep there is an attempt to repay the debt you feel you owe Din. While he frequently allows you to sleep in the bunk, Din is happy to sit in the chair. It is a position he seems content in, with his arms folded and head slumped to the side. For much of his life, sleeping in a bunk was a luxury seldom afforded to a man who lived such a nomadic life as Din. Even though he is unaccustomed to sleeping in a bunk and probably still prefers the chair, you want to give him the marginally more comfortable option.

Din, however, has other ideas…

“No,” Din murmurs in response to your offer, shaking his head furiously at the suggestion. “Want to be close to you.”

“Okay,” you sigh. You shake your head at the stubbornness of your favourite Mandalorian, but you are content to let him be. 

“Can I at least remove your helmet? It feels pretty cold against my cheek, you know…” you ask playfully.

You feel that coldness in motion against your cheek as Din nods slowly, too tired to vocalise his answer. You move instantly, propping yourself up with one elbow while you carefully remove the pesky barrier between you and the brown eyes you adore. Removing Din's helmet is something that you are well accustomed to now, but you still feel your pulse race with excitement each time. There is still a small part of you that can't quite believe you get to see Din in this way, his beauty unencumbered by the armour which usually shields his handsome features from you.

After removing Din's helmet and setting it down on the corner of the bunk, you are finally free to gaze upon the face of the man you have missed so dearly. Instead of joy, however, you feel your heart constricting at the sight of him. Din looks utterly exhausted. Your eyes roam across his features and you notice the tiredness which clouds his brown eyes, dulling their usual spark and vibrancy. There are dark bags lingering under his eyes, too. It seems that Din has scarcely slept since he ventured out from the Razor Crest several days ago. 

He looks up at you tiredly, a small bashful smile on his lips. You are captivated by his beauty, even in the low light. Even when he looks so drained. His is the most handsome face you have ever laid eyes upon, you are certain. With his strong nose and jawline, his features are distinctively masculine. Yet there is a certain softness there, too. Either way, you are sure that you will never tire of looking at him.

In response to the feelings his appearance provokes in you, you run your fingers through his surprisingly soft, dark curls. You gently rake your fingernails across his scalp in a soothing motion. Din hums in response, an appreciative sound that goes some way towards calming the anxiety you felt upon first laying eyes upon his exhausted face.

Now that he's lying in your arms, you hope that your careful ministrations go some way to soothing his exhausted soul. Even though he is too drained to vocalise it, you know that there is nothing in the galaxy that could relax him more than your embrace and presence. 

Eventually, Din’s shallow, even breaths indicate that he has finally drifted off. You still feel slightly groggy after being awakened so abruptly, but with Din asleep on you, you know there is no chance that you will be able to get back to sleep. For one, there is the considerable heft of a fully-armoured Mandalorian resting on you, who you are keenly aware is somehow managing to sleep while maintaining the position so he is not placing all of his weight on you and inadvertently crushing you. Additionally, you are enjoying the comfort you draw from Din's presence. Knowing he is close to you and not off hunting bounties, putting himself in dangerous situations soothes your soul.

You are unsure how long you lie there for, with Din lying half on top of you, before his eyelids flutter open and those familiar brown eyes meet yours once more. To your relief, they have regained their spark.

Unfortunately, while his eyes have regained their vibrancy, other parts of Din's body have suffered.

“Can't feel my arms or legs,” Din whines, his body numb after contorting himself into such an uncomfortable position.

“I did warn you,” you tease. There is not a single trace of anger or frustration evident in your tone. You merely enjoy the opportunity to playfully admonish the man you adore.

“I know,” Din nods.

You lean down to kiss his forehead softly. As you place your head back on the pillow, Din gazes up at you with a look of pure adoration in his eyes. Then, he winces slightly, clearly deciding that enough is enough. Din grunts in discomfort as he pushes himself up, and you regretfully watch him go. You are disappointed to have lost an initially disconcerting presence which ultimately became a comfortable one in spite of your initial reservations. Din lingers at the edge of the bunk, looking back at the space with a quizzical look across his features, as though he is appraising something about the space. 

“After we’ve dropped off the bounties on Nevarro, we’re paying a visit to Peli on Tatooine. I’m getting a more spacious bunk installed,” Din says decisively. 

You look at him questioningly, and Din does not hesitate to elaborate:

“I want to make it so that I can cuddle you properly, every night until we’re grey.” 

You shake your head and smile to yourself, touched at the sentiment. For a man with such a reputation of violence that precedes his every move, there is a surprisingly soft centre beneath the tough exterior. You are thrilled with Din’s proposition and you know that the kooky Tatooinian mechanic will have you sorted out with a new bunk in no time—even if the price you pay will be well above the going market rate. 

Despite Din’s stoic appearance and ruthless efficiency, you wonder if the galaxy would view him in a different light if they knew his weakness. You quietly question whether the Bounty Hunters’ Guild would hold a lesser opinion of him if they only knew the truth. 

Namely, that the spoils of one of the many bounties that the man they know as Mando so masterfully collects will go towards upgrading the Razor Crest’s modest bunk. All in order to ensure the formidable bounty hunter can have his scalp rubbed every night until his eyelids grow heavy, and so Din can be cocooned in the tight embrace of the one he loves each time he returns from his latest hunt.

Ultimately, Din Djarin is a man of multitudes. A formidable warrior and a gentle, caring man; who never feels safer or more at peace than when you hold him in your arms. 

Sanctuary

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: It's one of those days when your emotions threaten to overwhelm you. Despite the horrible day you're having, you try your best to keep it together. A feat you manage, until a certain Mandalorian arrives home and takes you into his arms. Word Count: 1.2k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: Descriptions of anxiety/panic attack ✯ Author's Note: Seeing these gifs the other day broke something in my brain and this little fic was the result. I hope this gets you through a day when you really need a hug from Din Djarin 💕 ✯ My Masterlist ✯

On the days when your stomach churned and you were too upset to vocalise the war that waged within yourself, you were grateful to have someone in your life who seemed to know exactly what you needed. There was no doubt that Din understood you better than you understood yourself. It was unsurprising, given how meticulous and attentive he was in everything he turned his hand to.

You had been in each other's lives for some time, yet you still found yourself pleasantly surprised each time he shared such care towards you. You never doubted Din's kind heart once you got to know him, but you were nonetheless astonished by the multitudes he contained. It was astounding how tender and caring the man, who had gained such a fearsome reputation throughout the galaxy as a ruthless bounty hunter, actually was beneath his cold, hard beskar. 

It was early in the morning when Din had left through the door and your stomach tied itself into knots as you heard his heavy footprints gradually fade into the distance. The sound indicated that you were now alone with your thoughts. Throughout the day, you had pushed your emotions to the deepest depths inside yourself. You had been trying to kid yourself, in his absence, that you could survive the day without breaking down. You told yourself over and over that if you could just make it until Din returned and then put on a brave face when he walked through the door, you would have survived the day without dissolving into pieces. The last thing you wanted was for Din to see how upset you were. The fear that you were weighing him down with your troubles or somehow holding him back from achieving greater things was omnipresent. Even though he had never given you a reason to fear such a thing, you were constantly terrified of being seen as a burden to him.

The familiar heavy footsteps grew louder; their rhythmic, even quality indicated they could belong to only one man. You took a deep breath and attempted to steady your racing heart, preparing yourself to keep it together upon Din's return.

The second you saw his figure in the doorway, you knew it was a lost cause. At the sight of the familiar outline of beskar shining in the entryway, you immediately knew that there was no way that you would be able to maintain your composure. You stood up immediately, rising off the chair you had been sitting on as you waited for him, to greet the man who owned your heart entirely. Instead of racing towards him as usual, you found yourself suddenly overcome with apprehension. Your steps faltered with uncertainty as you walked towards him on shaky legs, feeling your ability to stay strong evaporate just from laying eyes upon him. 

Din held his arms out to you without hesitation, beckoning you to come close to him.

“Come here, cyare,” Din whispered as you stepped into his orbit, his voice gravelly, “Let me hold you.”

As you closed the distance between you and Din to rest your head in the crook of his neck, you caught a glimpse of his mudhorn pauldron, glinting despite the low light of the cabin. Despite how terrible you felt, the ghost of a smile passed across your lips as you noticed the signet was so distinctively Din. Stepping into his arms felt like you were returning to safety. To your home.

You rested your head in the crook of his neck and nuzzled into his rough cowl, enjoying his familiar scent. It was musky and masculine, but not overbearing. You detected a faint hint of perspiration mixed with the floral scent you knew lingered on his skin thanks to the bottle of liquid he lathered across his tan skin in the 'fresher each morning. Din’s chestplate was firm against your body. Initially, you recoiled at the slight chill from the beskar, discernible even through your layers of clothing. Once you had adjusted to the temperature and new sensation, though, you felt nothing but warmth when you were in his arms.

As Din held you close and his hands rubbed comforting circles into your back with one strong arm holding you tightly around the waist, you appreciated the way your bodies fit together. It was as you were admiring how you seemed to be made for each other that you noticed how Din had wrapped his cape around your shoulders to further cocoon you into him. As though he was protecting you from all of the hurt that lingered outside of the sanctuary of his arms. From whatever was troubling you. There was no intense questioning, no expectations for answers. Only safety, love and understanding from a man who wanted to help you through your very worst days.

Something about nuzzling into Din’s neck and the care he had taken to raise your spirits rendered you speechless. You were overcome with emotion, powerless to stop the tears which started falling down your cheeks. At first, it was a solitary droplet, but then you couldn’t help yourself as more and more tears slipped from your eyes. 

At the first sound of your sniffles, Din pulled away from you. You felt your stomach drop in panic, momentarily afraid that you had upset him somehow. You looked up at him and felt the embarrassment settle somewhere low in your stomach, a physical symptom of the mortification you felt at your outburst. Then came the shame. You were dismayed that you had lost control of your emotions in such a way. Evidence of your loss of composure was evident in the reflection of your face in his helmet. You watched as your expression grew increasingly more distraught and felt your chest heaving as the panic rose within you, upset at your emotional state.

Fortunately, Din was nothing but understanding and caring. Before your thoughts could spiral anywhere darker, he began to use his soft leather gloves against your cheeks to dry the tears that were burning hot trails down your skin. It distracted you from your anguish, his tender touch providing instant comfort.

You relished the contact and melted into his embrace. Between his hand that lingered on your cheek, while the other rubbed your back and ensured his cape still swaddled you, your mood was instantly calmer. Din brought you back into his shoulder and returned his hands to your back, rubbing up and down as he held you close. You wrapped your arms around his waist, relishing the small contact you gained with the warmth of his flesh between the hard plates of his beskar. You stayed like that for a few more minutes, feeling your anguish dissipate with each second that Din held you.

Eventually, your breathing evened out and returned to a less frantic pace. Sensing that his embrace had had the intended effect on your fragile emotional state, Din pulled away once again and brought his hands to cup your jaw gently.

“How are you feeling now?” he rasped as he stroked your cheeks with his gloved thumbs. 

“Being in your arms always makes me feel better,” you smiled.

“I’d hold you for the rest of my days if you only asked me to, cyare,” Din vowed with a nod of his helmet. 

You smiled then, enjoying the way your face lit up with a smile and how your eyes had regained their sparkle thanks to the tight embrace of your attentive Mandalorian; your sanctuary.

Rest

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Despite how often you have pleaded with Din to stop and rest, your calls have gone unheeded. Your stubborn Mandalorian will not stop and take care of himself. So, when he arrives back from his latest job with the New Republic utterly exhausted, you take matters into your own hands and ensure he gets the rest he so desperately needs. Word Count: 3.1k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: None, pure fluff! ✯ Author's Note: I was talking with a friend earlier about how Din would go to the ends of the galaxy for those he loves and it finally got me to finish a little idea I'd been sitting one for a while. His determination and protectiveness is one of my favourite things about him, but the threat of burnout would be real! He would desperately need a rest and someone there to make sure he gets it, because you know he'd never rest himself. Anyway, thank you @suresnips for inspiring this in some way. I hope it cheers you up a little 🤍

✯ My Masterlist ✯

One of the most difficult things about sharing your life with a man whose face was near-permanently hidden, was that you were unable to spot the tell-tale signs of fatigue that were surely present on his features until things reached a crisis point. The helmet that he wore in accordance with his Creed shielded so many of the expressions which were distinctively Din Djarin from the rest of the galaxy. You thought it was a shame that they were denied the privilege of seeing the handsome features and expressive brown eyes which belonged to the Mandalorian whom you loved so dearly. Then again, it meant they were entirely reserved for you, and the little green child who completed your Clan of Three. 

You had first encountered Din in the aftermath of his mission to retake Mandalore. There had been whispers that one of the Mandalorians who had helped to save your homeplanet of Nevarro from a band of diabolical pirates had taken up residence by the lava flats. You were not inclined to believe rumours and had been stunned when you had seen the gleaming unpainted beskar, dazzling in the afternoon sunlight as he made his way through the marketplace one day. 

The first time you and Din had a conversation, as he bought wares from the market stall you owned, the connection had been evident. With his deep, gravelly voice and understanding, patient nature, even when you tripped over your words as you peddled your wares, you found him constantly on your mind. Over the next few months, your paths had crossed enough times for it to become evident that the feeling was mutual. 

Now, you were fortunate to reside in the little cabin that Din owned by the lava flats of Nevarro. Your home was a little slice of heaven that the two of you had carved out together alongside Grogu. When you saw how hectic and chaotic Din’s life was, you were grateful that he had allowed you to get close to him. You wondered how he had managed before he had forged a life with you and how he had looked after himself before you were around to share some of the burden. Your heart ached to think of Din alone, neglecting his own needs at the expense of others. He was selfless and devoted to those he loved by nature, but sometimes Din needed taking care of himself.

Happily, now the two of you had found each other, you were a true partnership in every sense of the word. 

On your worst days, Din was there to pick you up and brighten your spirits, just as, in turn, you were there for him. You celebrated each other’s successes when times were good, too. Which, fortunately, was the case more often than not. Life with Din was always exciting; even when he was away from you, he always took the effort to keep in touch. 

You were stunned when you first met Din and he regaled you with details of recent events in his life, that he had not allowed himself to rest on his laurels and enjoy the glory after completing such an arduous task as retaking Mandalore. Instead, he had taken jobs with the New Republic and turned his former bounty hunting skills to helping to keep the galaxy safe. It was relentless, exhausting work. But his determined nature meant that he was only too eager to lend his services to them whenever a job came up.

Monitoring Din for signs of fatigue was particularly difficult when the best visuals you got was a grainy few minutes of his helmeted form visible on your holoprojector, or a few moments of audio on your comlink whenever his schedule permitted. You had been begging Din to rest for several weeks now, but he had not heeded your requests. Since you had moved into the cabin with him and were able to care for Grogu, it had allowed him to take more dangerous jobs that he would have felt uncomfortable with Grogu accompanying him on, such as the most recent job that he had agreed to. You had been frustrated when he informed you about another assignment. You were deathly afraid that he would work himself into the ground if he wasn’t careful. Your pleas for him to postpone the job and rest had been unheeded.

If Din wouldn’t take care of himself, it fell on your shoulders to keep an eye on him. So, this time, when he returned from his latest job, you resolved that you would not be so easy on him. 

This time, Din Djarin would rest.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The rumble of the N-1’s engines as the Nubian starfighter descended through the Nevarrian atmosphere was a welcome sound in the stillness of the night. For hours, the only sounds audible in the cabin had been the faint snores of Grogu from his room and your racing thoughts. Now, the distant growl of the engines, which turned into a roar as they grew nearer, signalled your favourite Mandalorian’s return from his most recent mission. 

You were up like a shot, racing towards the door and out into the night to greet Din. Yet, any excitement you felt soon dissipated when you saw how sluggishly he moved. The man who often so energetically leapt out of the cockpit, as though it were no effort at all, was now a lethargic figure in the darkness. As he leapt onto the volcanic surface of the planet, he barely managed to regain his posture after bending his knees in a smooth landing. Instead, he leant back against the body of the N-1.

You shook your head as you approached him, frustrated that he had been so stubborn and ignored your protestations when he informed you about his latest mission. A time for scolding him would come later, though. For now, you walked across the ground, closing the distance between the two of you. 

Instinctively, Din had held his arms out in preparation for you to step into his embrace. Even in his fatigued state, his exhausted body still knew that he wanted you in his arms. You smiled as you nestled your head into the crook of his neck and wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling his warmth between the cool plates of beskar.

“I missed you,” you whispered into Din’s cowl.

“I missed you too, cyare,” Din replied, his voice low and husky as he rubbed circles into your back with his large hands. 

“Let’s go inside,” you insisted as you stepped away from his embrace and took his hand in yours, leading him towards the cabin. Towards home. Towards rest. 

You hoped that the child you had finally managed to see settled in his cot had not awakened at the sound of the engines. Getting Grogu to sleep had only proved successful after several hours of tantrums when you had forbidden him to stay up past his bedtime to greet his father. It was probably harsh, but you knew that Din was keen that his son maintained a regular sleeping schedule. Which was ironic, considering how little he respected his own needs for rest. 

Din's stubborness and insistence that he was fine meant that ensuring Din had some much-needed rest was a burden which fell squarely on you. If the way he had strained as he leapt from the N-1 had not been proof enough, his heavy footsteps as he trudged back to the cabin by your side further indicated his need for rest.

Unfortunately, as soon as you stepped through the entryway to the cabin, you were greeted by a certain child and his pleading brown eyes. Grogu had not missed his father’s return and he wanted attention. Din was never one to begrudge Grogu’s needs, and without hesitation, he pulled his helmet off and crouched down to scoop his son up. You silently cringed as you noticed the way he grunted thanks to the exertion of such an action. He desperately needed to rest.

But Din Djarin was a stubborn man.

“Din, let me put Grogu to sleep. You need to rest,” you reminded him as he took Grogu into his arms.

“I’m fine,” he shrugged off your concerns once again, “I'll put Grogu to sleep.”

As the two of them disappeared down the small hallway and into Grogu’s room, you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. Then, you took a deep breath and in an attempt to ensure your anger did not get the better of you. If there was one common thread that ran through Din Djarin's every action, it was his absolute devotion to his son. Nothing in this galaxy would ever stand in the way of him and Grogu. You knew Din would do anything for his son, even at the expense of his well-being. 

Fortunately, you knew you were there to take care of Din. So you allowed him his precious time with his son and resolved to be there for him afterwards and take care of his weary mind and fatigued body. You padded down the hallway towards the room you and Din shared, pausing briefly outside Grogu’s room. You smiled at the sounds you could hear through the door. You could hear the heartwarming sound of a child’s giggles and the familiar rasp of Din’s husky voice as he recounted various stories from his recent mission to his son. 

Satisfied that Din had not fallen asleep on top of Grogu at the very least, you entered your room and set about gathering the most luxurious pyjamas he owned. You had already changed the sheets to the softest silks in the galaxy in preparation for his return, hoping that once he felt them against his skin he would not fight you when you insisted he rest. You lay the pyjamas on the sheets and perched on the side of your cot to await Din’s return. You were content to give him some alone time with his precious boy. 

Finally, leaden footsteps sounded at the door, indicating that Grogu was asleep. Now, it was time to ensure that Din finally rested.

“Hi,” Din sighed, with a smile that did not quite meet his exhausted eyes.

“Hi,” you breathed.

As he stepped towards you, you noticed how deep the wrinkles on his face had become. You always loved the lines and grooves present on his face. They complimented the greys apparent in the smattering of facial hair across his strong jawline. You thought such features made him look distinguished and handsome, rather than old and exhausted. Tonight, though, their appearanced alarmed you. They were deeper than usual. You had never seen Din look so exhausted. His usual bright, warm brown eyes were dulled and dark. They were slightly bloodshot, too. Your heart ached at the sight of him. 

“You look exhausted,” you observed.

“I’m fine,” Din insisted.

“The bags under your eyes suggest otherwise.”

At your comment, Din’s ungloved hands balled into fists at his sides. He sighed through gritted teeth. You hated the way he shrugged off your concerns so nonchalantly and your observations 

“Din,” you sighed, “You are allowed to rest sometimes, you know?”

“I know.”

“Well then, why don’t you let me take care of you? Why don’t you sit on the new silk sheets that I put on, especially for you, and let me take your armour off?” 

“I can do it,” Din shook his head and averted his gaze.

“I know you can, but I want to help you,” you nodded as you pushed yourself off the cot and stepped towards him. “You do so much for me and Grogu. You do so much for the entire galaxy. You must be exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” Din repeated. This time, hearing those words caused something to snap inside of you. You had reached the end of your tether.

“Din, you look like you haven’t slept since you left a week ago! You’re going to run yourself into the ground!” you exclaimed forcefully, voice a little louder than you intended. 

You both stopped and looked in the direction of Grogu’s room, panic-stricken that you had awoken him. Fortunately, there was no noise. Grogu still slept soundly. At your outburst, when Din’s dull eyes met yours again, you noticed that a flicker of recognition had set across his features now. He understood that resting was not a sign of weakness.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” you apologised, instantly remorseful. 

“It’s alright,” Din reassured you.

“Please let me shoulder some of the burden, Din. Please don’t fight me on this,” you pleaded.

“Okay,” Din nodded and took a seat on the edge of the cot. 

You busied yourself with the various intricate fixtures that attached each piece of Din’s armour to his body, placing them on the floor at his side with as much care as you had observed him pay towards them. Din would stack them properly come the morning. He was meticulous and particular about the way they fitted on each shelf of the cabinet that was fixed into the wall for the very purpose of storing his armour. Even if you stacked them yourself, Din would do it again tomorrow. Better to preserve your energy and make sure he rested first.

By the time you had finished removing his armour, Din’s head was slumped to one side and his eyes were closed. Your heart soared at sight, and the small sounds of his soft snores. Before you could even finish undressing him, he had drifted off to sleep. Finally, the creases in his face looked less terrifying. He looked so peaceful that you hated to wake him. But sleeping in his flightsuit would not be comfortable and the garments you had laid out for him were of the most luxurious material in the galaxy. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Din, I’m sorry to wake you, honey,” you said apologetically, lips against his forehead.

Din continued snoring softly. It seemed a more drastic gesture would be in order. You leaned down and pressed your lips to his, smiling softly at the way his moustache tickled your upper lip. It was slightly longer than he usually kept it which was unusual for Din, given his fastidious nature. His latest job had been so hectic that personal grooming had fallen by the wayside. 

Fortunately, the kiss had the desired effect and Din’s eyes flickered open momentarily. You seized the opportunity.

“Din, why don’t you stand up for a second so I can help you into your pyjamas?” you whispered into his dark brown curls. 

“Hmph,” Din grunted in response, his eyes still shut.

“It’ll be worth it, you’ll be comfortable then,” you suggested.

Din opened his eyes, bleary thanks to your rude interruption of his peaceful slumber, and nodded slowly. You steadied him as he stood to his feet on shaky legs and helped him as he removed his final garments. With the pesky flak vest and flightsuit discarded, the final barriers to Din and some much-needed rest had been removed. 

Now clad in his luxurious silk pyjamas, you pulled the top sheets back for Din to clamber into the warmth and sanctuary of your cot, which he did without hesitation. In the time that it took for you to turn the light out and round the cot to join him, the quiet snores had resumed. You shook your head and smirked at the further proof – as if any more were required – of just how exhausted Din had been. You sighed in contentment as you took your place behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You rested them against his body, enjoying the warmth which radiated from his body. Sleeping in the cabin without Din felt cold and lonely, now he had returned and that contrast was even more stark. 

“I love you, Din,” you whispered into the nape of his neck, watching as your breath caused the dark brown curls which lingered there to flutter slightly. “Even when you’re stubborn,” you added.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The sensation of warm lips as they pressed a soft kiss to your forehead awoke you from the sleep you had drifted off into. Your eyelids fluttered open. In the golden light of a Nevarrian morning, you were finally able to see the warm brown eyes of the man you loved beyond comparison gazing at you adoringly.  

“Good morning,” Din rasped before he claimed your lips with his in a languid kiss.

“Morning, Din,” you sighed when you finally parted. “How did you sleep?”

“I slept well, thank you,” Din nodded.

“Glad to hear it,” you murmured as you stretched your arms out.

“Thank you for last night,” Din sighed against your lips. “I’m sorry for being so pigheaded.”

“It’s alright, Din,” you smiled in gratitude that he was aware of his stubbornness. “I know being taken care of is a new experience for you.”

“It is,” Din confirmed as he rolled off you and came to rest at your side. “But I appreciate your concern.”

“I know you do,” you nodded. “Which is why you’re going to take another nap, while I wake Grogu up and prepare some breakfast for us.”

“But–”

“Ah!” you said, raising a finger to his plush lips which were currently positioned in an adorable pout. “No fighting me on this, let me take care of you. Okay?”

“Fine,” Din huffed.

“Awww,” you cooed and stroked his cheek affectionately. “You’re pretty adorable when you’re grumpy, you know?”

“I’m not adorable,” Din sulked.

“You are,” you giggled at his ridiculousness. “Now, roll over and let me hold you again until you fall asleep.”

Din turned over wordlessly, settling into position in preparation for a nap. Your arms found their position around his waist once more and you pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, which produced a rumble of laughter from somewhere deep within him.

“I love you, Din. Even when you’re stubborn,” you whispered into his ear, repeating the words that he had not heard the previous night.

“I love you too,” Din replied. “Thank you for putting up for me.”

“Of course, honey,” you nodded. “I’m stuck with you now.”

“Thank Maker. I don’t know how I ever managed before our paths crossed,” Din sighed sleepily as you placed your hands underneath his shirt and traced soothing circles into the warm expanse of his belly.

“I don’t know, either,” you chuckled at the thought.

But the time for worrying about how differently the respective courses of your lives could have taken, were it not for that chance meeting at the market on Nevarro all those months ago, would come later. 

For now, it was time for Din Djarin to rest.

My Pain Fits In The Palm Of Your Freezing Hand

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: When you and your Mandalorian companion are ambushed by a group of bandits, you hope that his stubborn nature will not make the task of treating his wounds any more difficult than it needs to be. But that is not the only obstacle. You also hope that the depth of your unrequited feelings for Din will not impact on your ability to care for him...

Word Count:  2.2k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: Canon typical violence briefly described, reader provides first-aid to minor, bloody injuries. ✯ Author's Note: A daydream about holding the stubborn tin can man's hand turned into whatever this is!! I've never written unrequited feelings for Din before but it made my heart ache in the best possible way. Hope you enjoyed!

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

Once the adrenaline of your latest brush with death subsides, your focus immediately pivots to caring for your Mandalorian companion. Although the heightened emotions leaving your body render you a trembling, shaky mess, your priority is to ensure his well-being. Maker knows he will never take care of himself.

As you approach the Razor Crest, you mentally scan yourself for painful areas. Casting your mind back towards the encounter as you try to recall anywhere you could have been hurt. After all, you will struggle to assist him if you are not healthy.

You recall that you had taken a couple of painful blows to the side during the skirmish, but your clumsy assailants had fortunately missed all of your vital organs. Aside from a pounding heart and dry mouth, you have mercifully made it through the ambush unscathed. 

Satisfied that there are no immediate areas of concern to treat, you turn your attention towards Din. You cast your mind back over the altercation, towards any wounds he may have sustained. It is easier said than done, considering how many of them leapt out of nowhere and caught the two of you off-guard as you walked through the thick forest towards the ship.

You remember how many of them Din fought off with his bare hands. Well, through his gloves. Still, you know they will have provided scant protection, so you are keen to check them for injuries. 

You momentarily struggle to remember what happened after Din had seen most of them off as you crouched behind a bush, hiding. 

Then, you recall how one of your assailants had slashed at Din’s hands when he grabbed the remaining pair of them around the throat. It had been a frenzied attack, which momentarily worked as his grip loosened. Just when you had feared that all hope was lost and they were going to escape, Din brought his boot up to deliver a swift kick in the stomach to the slower of the duo, which sent them careening into each other.

Din had used many parts of his body, as well as all of his wits and expertise as a warrior to see your attackers off. He had done a formidable job, considering how much they had taken you by surprise.

Still, the state of his hands concern you.

You are pretty sure they sustained the most severe damage. Plus, as they are vitally important for everyday function, treating them takes priority.

It is settled... Din’s hands are the first area you will treat. 

If he will let you, that is.

Your Mandalorian companion does not possess a reputation for being the easiest man in the galaxy to take care of... a willing patient, Din Djarin is not.

As the two of you ascend the ramp up to his beloved ship, you hope for both of your sakes that he makes this process as painless as possible.

“Din, sit down and let me get the medkit,” you order when you finally enter the familiar old ship's hull. 

“Let me initiate the launch sequence first,” Din stubbornly responds.

“No,” you reply, shaking your head as you fold your arms, glaring at him.

“Fine,” Din mutters in annoyance. 

It seems your sternness has done the trick. 

Din perches atop a crate as you grab the medkit in preparation to treat his wounds. You hope he does not make it harder for you than necessary. Din has never made any secret that he is comfortable being fussed over. You are no stranger to the fact that he hates being taken care of like this, but if you do not tend to his wounds, you know he will never do so himself. 

“Your gloves,” you nod towards the two-toned leather which covers his hands, “Take them off, Din.”

Din sighs and lifts his gloves beneath his helmet, seemingly biting at each finger to loosen them before repeating the process with his other hand. You feel like a voyeur and wonder whether you should turn your head and look away, as though his gloved hand disappearing beneath his helmet is somehow sacrilegious. Despite your inner turmoil, you cannot help but watch, unable to tear your gaze away until finally, he slides the gloves off and bares his flesh to you. 

It is not the first time Din has removed his gloves in your presence, yet you still feel a thrill travelling across your body at the faintest sight of his skin. 

For Din Djarin’s bare hands provide you with the tiniest peek at the man that lies beneath the cold, hard beskar. To catch a glimpse of the human side of the formidable warrior, the side of him you yearn to know entirely.

You remember how stunned you had been the first time he had removed his gloves in your presence while he was repairing a blaster several months ago. 

You had been sitting elsewhere in the hull as he worked at the bench, tools spread out as he dutifully performed much-needed maintenance on one of his many beloved weapons.

A grunt of frustration indicated that the parts had been far too intricate to repair with his cumbersome gloves. So, he had pulled on each finger one by one, tugging them off. Seemingly uncaring about baring himself, even ever so slightly, in your presence.

You had tried your best not to look, but you had been unable to resist sneaking a glance at who he was underneath his armour. Although for the most part, you kept to yourselves, there was no lingering frostiness in your dynamic. You and Din were amicable, possibly even friends... if he could even have such a thing.

That day, you watched as his hands meticulously repaired his blaster. You noticed the smattering of dark hairs across the back of his hand, the surprisingly tanned skin and the calluses and scars which littered the back of his hand. It was a fascinating glimpse into the man who hid so much of himself from you, yet you still felt you knew enough about him to believe he was, deep down, a good man.

Your mind ran wild with so many questions. Was his skin a similar colour elsewhere on his body, or was it tanned because his hands were the only parts of him that saw the sun? Did the dark hairs on the back of his hand mean that the hair on his head–if he had any–was a similar colour?

They were questions you knew you would likely never get answers to. Nor did you expect to.

When Din had hired you to care for The Child and attend to maintenance on his ship, he had informed you of the rules regarding his armour and helmet. He would remove neither his helmet nor armour in your presence. You were never to question the reasons why or attempt to subvert this stipulation in any way.

That was why glimpsing a sliver of his skin had thrilled you. It had exposed the man you had been yearning to see in a way that was not a violation of his Creed.

Yet, when you see his hands this time the circumstances could not be more different. Neither could the emotions Din’s bare hands provoke in you. 

Rather than feeling a thrill at the sight of his skin, now you cringe when you see the wounds that litter his flesh. His knuckles are split and bloodied, contusions that will surely colour shades of blue and black before eventually healing. There are also angry red gashes in all directions, a result of the bandit’s vibroblade making contact with his hands. 

You steady yourself, mentally preparing for the gargantuan task of providing first aid to a stubborn Mandalorian. Din values all you do for him. You are certain of that fact, even if he does not often vocalise it. Still, having someone take care of him is an uncomfortable prospect for a man who has spent so long leading a solitary, nomadic existence.

When you finally take his calloused, yet soft, skin in your hand, Din sucks in a harsh breath at the sensation. The sound is amplified and crackles slightly through the vocoder. A reminder that, although he has bared some of himself, he is still mostly hidden from you. He feels like more machine than man sometimes.

You take a bacta wipe from your medkit, and the antiseptic’s sour smell lingers unpleasantly in the air. You hold Din’s hand still, as you carefully bring the wipe towards his skin, your brow furrowed in concentration. 

“This is going to sting,” you murmur apologetically. 

Din nods. You hear him inhale deeply as he braces for the first contact with the remedy. You prepare yourself to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to make the process needlessly painful for him. 

At the first touch of the bacta wipe against his bronze skin, he jerks away from your touch, groaning slightly in pain at what you are sure is an uncomfortable, stinging sensation against his cuts.

“Hold still,” you sigh, flashing a disapproving glance in what you hope is the direction of Din’s eyes, hidden by his helmet. 

“Sorry,” he huffs.

You cannot help how your lips curl upwards at the sight of him sulking. This hulking man, all broad shoulders and gleaming beskar, reduced to a wounded child. You wonder if he is pouting beneath his helmet.

Din flinches again when you resume your task, but this time, you do not chastise him. Instead, you are thankful that he is not making this any more difficult than it needs to be. 

At least he has not told you he can look after himself. 

Content with his behaviour, you diligently tend to Din’s wounds. You ensure each one is cleaned thoroughly with the bacta patch and then wrapped in a bandage. It will take a few days to heal, but he will have plenty of time as you hurtle through hyperspace towards Nevarro again. Unfortunately, it will mean he likely has to refrain from being the hands-on father you know he loves to be. 

When your task is almost complete, you move to sit by his side on the crate. You need to steady your hands by placing your elbows against your thighs as you wrap a particularly nasty wound, which already streaks angry red tendrils across two knuckles. 

Din groans again in pain, and you quickly reassure him, “Almost there,” you whisper encouragingly. 

With the task finally completed, you cannot resist gently taking his hand in yours. Ostensibly, to check him for any wounds you have missed. In reality, it is borne out of a selfish desire to feel his skin against yours. Precious contact you had been yearning for since you first laid eyes upon his skin all those months ago. 

If Din notices the way you subtly lace your fingers with his and hold his hand in your lap for a few moments longer than necessary, he does not say a thing. Only when you disentangle your fingers from his grip does he speak again.

When you move to stand up from the crate, he places his arm across your stomach to stop you. You look at him questioningly, wondering what is going on beneath that bucket of metal. 

“Thank you,” Din finally whispers, voice thick with emotion.

You move to open your mouth, to respond. Before you can, Din’s deep voice cuts through the stillness.

“For everything… I…” Din pauses, sighs deeply, then continues, “I appreciate everything you do for me.”

You simply nod, too taken aback to speak. It is unlike Din to be sentimental or emotional, not with anyone other than Grogu. It is part of what makes him such a respected and feared hunter. Yet, here he is, confessing his appreciation for you. It causes hotness to creep up your neck and face, embarrassed by his earnestness. Desperate to respond, but not entirely trusting that you can keep it together. 

“You’re worth it, Din,” you smile, daring to believe that this moment will change something for the two of you. You hope he will finally realise the depth of the feelings you hold for him; that you have always held for him. 

As you take his hand in yours once again, you sit back on the crate. You take up a more comfortable position and daringly lean your head against his shoulder. The pauldron is bitingly cold beneath your cheek. But with how warm your skin suddenly feels at his words, it is an altogether welcome sensation.

Din noticeably inhales at your gesture, and you momentarily fear you have hurt his tender skin. Until he relaxes once again and squeezes your hand as best as he can considering his injuries, a reassuring gesture that soothes your worries.

As you sit there holding hands in the relative darkness of the hull, you imagine a shooting star passing somewhere far in the skies above.

You wish on it and dare to dream that, one day, Din Djarin will love you, too.

Follow @thefrogdalorianfics for updates on my latest fics!

Downpour

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Leading a solitary, nomadic existence for much of his life means that Din Djarin has never cuddled up to someone he loves during a rainstorm. Until one night in his cabin on Nevarro, when unseasonably poor weather introduces him to one of life’s simple pleasures.

Word Count: 1k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: One suggestive line, Din having nightmares mentioned ✯ Author's Note: I miss the Razor Crest but daydreaming about domestic fluff in the cabin on Nevarro scratches an itch in my brain in all the best ways. I really want to cuddle with Din Djarin during a rainstorm. Is it too much to ask?! Thanks to @decembermidnight for betaing this one for me!! 🩷

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

The roof of the cabin on Nevarro has never felt like the most sturdy part of the modest-sized dwelling you share with your riduur. Especially not in the middle of an unseasonably fierce rainstorm, the severity of which has you groggily blinking awake in the pitch blackness. 

Your immediate concern is for the mischievous child you tucked in just across the hallway shortly after sunset. You hope that the rain has not disturbed him and that he remains bundled in blankets, surrounded in his crib by the mountain of plushies which have been either bought for him by you and Din or gifted to him by the various people throughout the galaxy who cannot resist how charming he is. 

Mercifully, your sensitive ears do not detect any wails. So, with Grogu seemingly still sleeping soundly, you turn your attention to his father. When you do not hear Din’s soft snores beside you, you vocalise your concern.

“Din, are you awake?” you mumble without turning around to face him.

Din shuffles towards you and wraps his arms around your waist. With a wordless response, he squeezes you tightly. You realise that Din is drawing comfort from your presence. Your heart grows heavy as you realise he must be alarmed by the rainstorm.

“Are you scared of the rain, my big scary Mandalorian?” you question. It is an attempt to lighten the mood, without fussing over him too much. You know how much such playful teasing gets underneath his skin.

“I’m not scared,” Din huffs.

You turn over, raising your eyebrows at him questioningly.

In the darkness, you can barely make out his handsome features. There is a soft light from the hallway, and you can faintly see his brown eyes sparkling slightly, even in the low light.

The lack of light is not an issue. You have mapped every inch of Din's face with your fingers and lips well enough to know that he will be furrowing his brow at you, exposing the wrinkle above the bridge of his nose that you love to gently trace with your fingertips whenever it becomes pronounced in times of stress. 

You reach up to touch the lines of his face, as though you can ease all of his worries with just your touch, “What would all those bounties you once collected think if they could see you now?” you muse.

Din guffaws.

“Imagine if everyone you struck fear into the hearts of with merely your presence could see you now? Maybe they would feel silly for ever being so scared of a man who is scared of a little rainstorm…”

“Riduur…” Din warns, voice deep and firm.

He can excuse the teasing about the past. You have held him through enough bouts of sobbing in this very bunk after the visions which haunt him in slumber have torn him from sleep to earn the privilege of lightly teasing him. When nightmarish sights of his past sins overwhelmed him, you were always there, dutifully picking up his pieces. 

But Din Djarin will never accept a charge of cowardice. 

You know he is not seriously scared. Din is no coward. And he knows that you would never seriously lay such a charge at his door. 

“You know I’m only teasing you, handsome,” you say with a wink you hope he can see.

You realise that Din has never lived somewhere for long enough to hear the rain pattering on the roof. His covert cloistered in the caves of Concordia. The Razor Crest was home but never docked in one place long enough for it to truly function as such. 

The fact that until now, Din has been denied the simple pleasure of listening to a rainstorm in the arms of one you love is yet another detail of his life which brings you anguish. 

“I think it’s very sweet, actually," you whisper, hoping he knows you meant no malice, "It's our first proper rainstorm in this cabin," you add, ensuring that he knows you understand this is new for him.

Despite how much Din's past makes your heart ache, you will not wallow in pity for him. Instead, it strengthens your resolve to make sure Din is loved every moment of the eternity he has vowed to spend with you. 

You lean in for a gentle kiss, “Roll over and let me hold you, my love,” you whisper against his plush lips.

Din sighs and then leans in to kiss you again before he complies. A touch so slow and sweet, so different to the frenzied way his lips claimed yours hours before. Satisfied, he agrees to your proposal, flipping over with a grunt.

You position yourself so your chest is flush with his firm back, placing a kiss on the centre of his back, between his broad shoulders. Din sighs in contentment. You smile, relieved you can comfort him like this. It is a privilege unique to you out of everyone in the galaxy.

You slip your hands underneath the soft cotton shirt he wears to bed and absentmindedly trace circles onto the warm expanse of his stomach. His body is firm beneath your fingers thanks to his muscular physique; but there is a hint of softness there, which increases each year as he ages. 

You do not mind one bit. It only makes his body better suited to cuddles.

This warrior who once terrified everyone is now a little softer at the edges, his toughness gradually eroded by the love he feels for his son and you, his riduur.

"Thank you," Din sleepily mumbles before he drifts off again, no longer disturbed by the thudding of the rain against the roof.

Fierce independence borne out of trauma had meant that Din had never previously known the simple pleasure of listening to rainfall pattering against the roof. It was a new reverberation, one initially alien and alarming to his highly attuned senses. 

Fortunately, Din was not afraid for long. Now, he has you to hold him through the storm. There is no more fear or anxiety as he cuddles with you, his riduur, while the sound continues outside.

You whisper, "I love you, Din," before sleep's comforting embrace takes you too and you join Din somewhere peaceful. Far away from the downpour.

Follow @thefrogdalorianfics for updates on my latest fics!

The Arrangement

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: You entered into an arrangement with Mando find some physical relief from the monotony of hyperspace as you travel through the galaxy together as a formidable team of bounty hunters. When you did so, there were three clear rules: that it would not impact your professional relationship, that there were no strings attached and most importantly of all: that Mando would never, ever remove his helmet.

When you carelessly let your emotions get the better of you and undermine those rules, you fear you have lost the man who means everything to you and discover that you miss much more than merely the physical encounters…

Word Count:  7.1k ✯ Rating:  Explicit 18+ MDNI ✯ Content Warnings: Smut, light angst, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex. ✯ Author's Note: Well, this was by far the spiciest thing I have ever written and I hope you like it! I get the urge to write smut very occasionally and it was actually pretty fun to explore this side of a relationship with Din. Thanks to the lovely @decembermidnight for helping me out with this one and encouraging me through it! Very much a "Goooood Anakin, gooooood," dynamic. Nervous about posting this one so I'm going to run and hide now but hope you enjoyed it! :)

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

As you lie forlornly on your bunk, isolating yourself further from the man who has already put distance between the two of you, you rue the day you ever allowed yourself to enter into an arrangement with such an elusive man. You think back to all the moments you have shared since your paths first crossed, reminiscing over each one of your encounters. 

Tonight is not the first night you chastise yourself for allowing yourself to become entangled with a Mandalorian; far from it. 

Since you and Mando first started sleeping together, there have been frequent occasions when you have regretted the day that you gave into your desires and ever allowed yourself to end up underneath him, especially since he is so reclusive and aloof by nature. His reserved nature occasionally frustrates you, though you have always successfully hidden that. Well, almost always. 

Mando’s withdrawn, quiet nature began as an attractive trait. His stoic, quiet nature first drew you to him as a business partner. 

Except, now you have become something more to each other, such a trait prevents you from knowing him entirely. 

And, boy, do you want to know him entirely. 

Unfortunately, it seems as though you never will. A fact that you are painfully aware of now Mando cannot even stand to be in the same room as you. He is always hiding away in the cockpit. 

You are frustrated at yourself for ever allowing yourself to feel so deeply for him. 

What started as a casual arrangement is undeniably something more to you now. He means something more to you now. The man whose presence you cannot bear to be without. The man whose absence creates a great cavernous void in your chest that feels overwhelming. 

The arrangement between you and Mando started as a physical release for you. A way to scratch an itch. With no strings attached, the arrangement was merely a way of passing time as you hurtled through hyperspace to collect the next bounty. 

You were instantly attracted to Mando since you first glanced at him in the Cantina on Nevarro. With his broad shoulders, narrow waist and imposing form, it was impossible to tear your eyes away from him when he strode in. Even though mostly hidden beneath his armour, you were certain he was gorgeous. 

Then you heard him speak.

Maker. His voice. So deep. His tone was so even, including when he was frustrated by the conversation with the head of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild on Nevarro. Even in the face of adversity, Mando kept his composure. The hulking warrior seemed so composed, so certain. His voice was calm and steady. 

As a fellow member of The Guild, you were unable to resist the tempting urge to eavesdrop on his conversation with Greef Karga. You heard all about how Mando was struggling to afford the interest on paying off the ridiculous loan he had taken to buy the antiquated Razor Crest. You discovered he was having increasing difficulty covering the fuel that the old girl guzzled. After hearing about his predicament, an idea formed in your head.

It was rare for two members of The Guild to collaborate in such a way. After all, Mando should have been your competition. Something about him was drawing you to him, though. You felt compelled towards him, as though some invisible Force was pushing you together. 

You proposed an arrangement to him. 

In return for keeping the credits from your jobs, this mysterious Mandalorian would provide transport, lodgings and fuel in his ship. Considering it was an offer to have one of the best Bounty Hunters in the parsec come aboard his ship, you knew it was an offer he could not refuse. Sure enough, Mando accepted. 

You had been together ever since.

At first, the arrangement was strictly business. You both kept yourselves to yourselves. Never prying into the other’s affairs.

However, after a couple of months spent traversing the galaxy together, there was a shift in your dynamic.

It turned out that two people existing together in a confined space with only each other to converse with to break the monotony of endless hyperspace lanes would find conversation and, eventually, friendship in each other. Despite their best efforts to avoid such a dynamic. 

While friendship blossomed, so did other feelings. 

You had never been able to deny your attraction to Mando to yourself. Pretty soon, you could not even deny it to him. Not when he asked you outright after imbibing one too many flagons of spotchka. 

The first night you slept together was after a particularly heavy night of drinking at a seedy Cantina next to the shipyards of Corellia. There had been an unavoidable tension in the air that night. The alcohol had only enhanced your existing attraction towards each other to the point where it was no longer possible to ignore. The booze finally gave you the courage to vocalise them. 

The tension which lingered in the air all evening was only magnified when you finally staggered back to the Razor Crest. It was practically suffocating being so close to him in that old ship. 

In hoping that you would quickly fall into Mando’s bunk alongside him, you had vastly underrated the meticulousness of your business partner. 

Even in your inebriated states, he had taken the time to lay out the ground rules. Despite how desperate you were for him, every inch of you aflame, Mando had insisted on setting some boundaries before your first time together. 

Firstly, he insisted that sleeping together should not get in the way of your professional relationship. Mando would not give you favourable rates or discounts, nor would he expect them from you, just because you were sleeping together. He made it abundantly clear that, at any time, either of you could back out. The end of the arrangement would not impact your life together.

Secondly, there were no strings attached. No feelings. No declarations of love were wanted nor expected. Ideally, no emotions at all; this was strictly a physical relationship. You were to enjoy each other’s bodies and bring each other pleasure, but that did not necessarily mean that feelings ran any deeper than merely enjoying the way he relentlessly pounded into you, night after night, as you soared through the stars together. 

Thirdly, and most importantly to Mando: the armour stayed on. All of it. Including the helmet. You were never, under any circumstances, to question this rule. You were never to attempt to remove any of his armour. If you did, it would not only terminate your physical arrangement with Mando. But your professional one, too.

You were so desperate to finally relieve the tension that had been simmering for months that you were more than happy to agree to terms. 

You did not regret your decision for even a moment once Mando ended up in the bunk with you.

In allowing your desire for him to win out, you discovered that he was a skilled lover, even with the limitations of his armour. You could not touch him, see his face or feel his mouth, but he made it work. He always ensured you came first, knowing exactly how to please you.  

Your encounters with Mando were a way to blow off steam, a release you both craved. It broke up journeys and brought you closer together. Your professional lives went from strength to strength. You were attuned to each other’s bodies. With each encounter, it felt as though you were slowly becoming one.

Even if you feared catching feelings for Mando, you always consoled yourself that it would never amount to anything. You were sure he did not feel for you in that way.

Whenever you doubted the arrangement, you thought about how the positives far outweighed the negatives. After all, keeping your sexual encounters in-house, so to speak, was a far safer option than putting yourselves in such a vulnerable position, entirely at the behest of others. Your reputation as a formidable bounty-hunting team preceded you throughout the galaxy. You were certain that there would be no shortage of people who would be keen to seduce you and Mando for their benefit.

The arrangement was perfect for both of you. It satisfied your carnal desires. 

At least, at first, it did. 

The closer you grew to Mando, the more your lives became intertwined, the more difficult it was to respect how strongly he felt about keeping himself covered when you slept together. 

To begin with, Mando only took his cock out of the confines of his flightsuit. His armour remained on, digging into your skin. The various plates of his armour colliding roughly with your skin was a sensation you did not mind one bit, especially the touch of his cool beskar on your flushed skin. 

Although you were entirely naked before him, with every inch of your skin displayed. At first, Mando did not even remove his gloves.

During those early encounters, you would barely even touch him. Fearful of being scolded, of ruining what you had. He often took you from behind, pounding into you after he bent you over the crates or the edge of his bunk. Sometimes on the cockpit's dashboard itself, if you were particularly desperate for each other and could not make it down the ladder to your bunk.

Still, the more you and Mando got intimate with one another, the more desperate you were to reach the man below. 

When he finally allowed you to ride him as he sat on the red leather seat of the cockpit, your ass brushing against the cool metal of his thigh plates, you took your chance.

You frantically pushed through the coarse material of his cowl and moved the material which guarded his neck so you could place your lips upon the soft, golden skin you discovered there. 

Mando did not seem to mind, never pushing you away. 

It became a ritual whenever you slept together. You, delighting as you sucked marks that no one else would be able to see, while Mando groaned and praised you. 

You knew the marks were just between the two of you, for your eyes only. Still, their presence nonetheless gave you a thrill in the days afterwards. Especially, when you saw him interacting with others. To know that you had marked him. You had claimed him as yours.

It was a heady prospect that this formidable Mandalorian warrior had been reduced to a whimpering mess by your lips, by such a simple act. He had allowed you to claim him. 

It was also a dangerous prospect… to think of him as yours.

You did not dwell on it for too long, however. 

After that first time you desperately sought out his skin as you rode him in the cockpit, something shifted deep within Mando. 

That small action had clearly awakened some previously untouched feelings in him. The next time you slept together Mando allowed you to remove his flightsuit. You had not acknowledged this shift or dared to believe that it could mean that he held any deeper feelings for you than the lust and desperation borne out of your encounters. 

Still, from that day forth, rather than just taking his impressive length out and nothing else, he would undress himself and wait for you on the bunk, clad in nothing but his helmet. 

It was a sign of ultimate trust. Of vulnerability from a man who you knew rarely allowed himself to feel such an emotion. 

Now you lie here despondently at the knowledge that you have ruined everything. 

Your heart constricts as you remember how close you and Mando once had been. How much you had trusted each other. Entirely. Unquestioningly.

Those times seem so distant now.

Now that you and Mando have stopped speaking. 

Since your last encounter more than a week ago, which happened in the aftermath of a particularly stressful job on the forest planet where you had collected your latest bounty, he has not said a word to you. 

Mando has been completely ignoring your existence… and you have a pretty good idea as to the reason why. 

In fact, as you think back to your most recent encounter, turning over the thoughts in your mind once again, you are certain of the moment you ruined everything…

✯✯✯✯✯

You had barely made it to the bunk, so desperate for each other after spending days camped out in the undergrowth. Dirt still clung to your pores, invading every crease of your body. There had been no opportunity to use the sonic. You were preoccupied with loading up the bounty, as Mando started the Razor Crest’s launch sequence. Despite your dishevelled, filthy appearance, Mando did not seem to mind. He initiated another encounter without hesitation. 

Your condition seemed to unlock something primal within him when you bore yourself to him, traces of dirt on your skin. The musky scent of the forest planet clung to him as he bared his hulking form to you after stripping out of his flightsuit. He was feral, desperate for you as he pounded into you at a merciless pace. Mando moaned loudly and chanted your name as though it were a sacred prayer until he finished with one long growl of your name in his deep, gravelly voice that strained under each syllable.

In the aftermath, as you lay on his strong chest, you allowed your mind to wander. You wondered what the man beneath the helmet looked like. Whether he was as attractive as the rest of his body suggested. His body was firm and toned without being overwhelmingly muscular. There was a softness to his belly and chest you appreciated. A physique more than appropriate for a man of his age. 

You ached to move your hands beneath his helmet, tracing his features with your fingers so that you may see him in the only way possible for you to do so. To catch the vaguest of glimpses of the man who had brought you so much pleasure over the last few months. 

Still blissed out from your multiple orgasms and barely comprehending the gravity of your words and how dangerously close to the line you were stepping, you said something which you wished you could take back almost as soon as the words were out of your mouth. 

“I wish I could see your face when you moan my name, Mando,” you sighed as you lay there in the afterglow. 

The shift was immediate. You felt Mando tense beneath you. Your comment had unsettled him. The guilt was immediate.

“Wait, Mando,” you quickly added, your blood ran cold as you realised your carelessness, “I wasn’t asking you to remove it… I was just thinking out loud. Please, Mando, I…”

Your words were cut off when he shuffled out from beneath you, disentangling himself from your limbs that had been entwined ever since you collapsed in a heap of breathless satisfaction after your latest encounter.

Without uttering a single word to you, you heard Mando’s heavy footsteps echo throughout the metallic hull and disappear into the fresher to finally wash the grime from his body. 

When he finally exited, you attempted to apologise to him one more time. Unfortunately, he was thoroughly uninterested in anything you had to say. You stood before him, the threadbare blanket from the bunk wrapped around you, pleading for mercy. A formidable bounty hunter reduced to a trembling wreck, begging for Mando's forgiveness. Mando did not respond to anything you said. Instead, he immediately excused himself while mumbling about checking the hyperdrive generator. 

✯✯✯✯✯

Throughout the last few miserable days, you have distracted yourself from the uneasy atmosphere which hangs heavy in the ship by thoroughly polishing each one of your blasters and thinking back to happier times. 

Like the time when Mando stripped himself from his flightsuit for the first time and allowed you to finally see him almost entirely. As entirely as you ever would.

The way his taut, toned flesh felt underneath your fingers as you traced each ridge of his muscles with delicate, tentative fingers. His sweaty skin slapped against yours, an obscene noise which reverberated throughout the rest of the ship.

As you lie back on your bunk, you cannot help your fingers trailing down your abdomen. Lower and lower until they reach between your thighs. 

You are stunned by how wet you are before you have even touched yourself, so turned on by merely the memories of Mando.

You gather your wetness with your fingers before you begin moving them in a circular motion over your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

You think back to that first time you laid eyes upon Mando. His impressive physique. The way he picked up the pace to fuck you even harder when you raked your nails down his flesh. Moaning and grunting into your neck as you left marks down his broad back. 

You remember the unmistakable scent of sex that lingered in the air afterwards, amplified by the fact there were now two bare bodies during your encounters, not just one. It was almost overwhelming to your senses, the scent of him. So masculine and musky. So Mando.

You groan at the memory, clenching around nothing. You feel so empty, desperate to feel the delicious burn as Mando’s thick cock stretches you and reaches parts of you never filled before. You slide two fingers inside yourself and begin thrusting out. Although it satisfies the ache, it pales in comparison to the fullness and completeness you feel whenever Mando snaps his hips forward and thrusts into you in one fluid motion. 

You try to remember how he felt, pathetically imagining that your fingers are in any way comparable to his touch. To his length. It is the best you are going to get, for now.

Your nipples pebble and tighten beneath the thin cotton shirt you wear. The material provides some friction, but nothing as satisfying as when Mando would roll them between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to throw your head back in ecstasy. Still, you moan at the memory, continuing to thrust your fingers inside of you with one hand while the other massages your clit. 

“Mando,” you gasp when you pick the pace up. 

Both hands and your fingers working in tandem still are nowhere near as satisfying as even one of Mando’s thick, calloused digits. 

“Kriff, Mando!” you yell as your legs begin trembling.

You are so close now. That familiar feeling builds somewhere deep inside of you. A coil tightening, ready to release. 

A familiar voice behind you, tone full of concern, “Are you okay? I heard–” followed by a gasp of surprise and hastily retreating footsteps kills the mood instantly.

“Sith hells!” you exclaim, annoyed to have been interrupted when you were so close to climax.

That frustrated feeling soon gives way to embarrassment as you realise that Mando probably heard you from all the way up in the cockpit. He has spent much of his time up there, only descending the ladder to use the fresher or prepare himself rations. Even then, he usually only comes down when he can hear that you have sealed yourself into your bunk for the night. 

You must have called his name far louder than you had realised in the throes of passion. You wonder how you will ever face him again. You pull your pants up and step out of the bunk, keen to at least attempt to converse with the stubborn buckethead. 

Fortunately, you do not have to wait long. Mando soon emerges from the fresher. There is an awkward silence. He stands there, clad in his flightsuit and helmet, clenching and unclenching his gloved fists at his sides repeatedly. It is a mannerism you recognise well, usually seen when he is trying to size up a target or decide his next move. Is that how he sees you—as prey?!

“Mando,” you breathe, “Please, can we talk?”

Mando does not move a muscle. He stands perfectly still, at full height. A looming, intimidating presence in the darkness of the hull. 

“Look, I know I upset you the other day,” you begin, sincerely laying out your feelings and hoping that he comprehends how remorseful you are. “I’m so sorry, Mando. Please believe me. I know what I said was thoughtless, but I wasn’t thinking. I would never expect you to take your helmet off for me. I know how much being a Mandalorian means to you. I would never try to come between you and your Creed,” you promise.

You briefly pause, searching Mando’s body language for the smallest clue as to his feelings. Unfortunately, he is so used to hiding his emotions from the rest of the galaxy that you cannot glean even a crumb of information.

“I miss you, Mando,” you sigh, “And not just like that!” you hastily add, hoping that he does not think your apology is in any way related to the compromising position he just caught you in. 

Mando remains perfectly still. It’s progress, at least. He has not retreated. You take that as a sign to continue. 

“I miss the nights we spent together in the cockpit, sharing memories of our past and discussing our hopes for the future. The way you would always make sure there was a warm cup of caf for me each morning when I finally hauled myself from the bunk. You were always so eager to rise, while I have never been a morning person,” you smile fondly, attempting to fight the tears that have suddenly pooled on your waterline. “Remember when you showed me each of your weapons? Showing me just how you liked them polished and ordered. Somewhere along the way, they became our arsenal, Mando. Our weapons are together in the locker, side-by-side. Just like us.”

You finally get the first clue of the impact your words are having on Mando when his broad shoulders rise and fall. The shaky breath he takes is amplified by his vocoder. Reminiscing has left him emotional on some level, too. It’s a positive sign. You make headway with it.

“I will forever be grateful for the day I overheard that conversation with Karga in that Cantina on Nevarro. Even though I used to curse this ship after I first came aboard, I think it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Without it and the loan you took out to cover costs, you would never have required someone else. I know…” you sigh, choosing your next words carefully as you are painfully aware that you are likely going to come dangerously close to overstepping another boundary. “I know that you do not always take kindly to strangers, Mando. I know that you have been alone for so long that you have probably forgotten what it feels like to be with someone else. But what we had was something special. I miss that. I miss us, Mando.”

Mando’s helmet falls, then. His unrelenting, steely gaze is finally off you. You are getting through to him. You keep talking, hoping that your words have the desired effect.

“You mean so much more to me than our encounters, Mando,” you confess. “I enjoyed every second, don’t get me wrong. But I would take them all back in a heartbeat to go back to how things were before. I would rather have only had you in my life platonically than having you like that and losing you…

What happens next catches you completely off-guard.

Firstly, Mando tilts his helmet up. His helmet is finally level with you again, focused on you. You look into the dark, T-visor where you imagine his eyes would be. You can almost feel his eyes on you. Your heart starts thundering. You feel that connection back. That spark.

Before you even have time to digest his actions, Mando’s deep voice finally breaks the silence:

“I love you,” he says simply. 

Does he love you?! You are sure you misheard him. Your desperate mind is playing the cruellest trick of all. 

“Y-You love me?” you choke out in disbelief.

“I do.”

“Oh, Mando, I love you too,” you tearfully whisper.

“Din,” Mando rasps.

You look at him questioningly.

“My name,” Mando nods, “It’s Din. Din Djarin.”

“Din Djarin,” you murmur the name of the man you love with such reverence, as though it is a sacred prayer, enjoying the way your mouth curves around each letter. 

Your head is still spinning from Din’s declaration and the reveal of his name. You have barely had time to process the events which have just transpired when he drops the next bombshell on you.

“I want to remove my helmet in front of you,” Din declares, “I want you to know me entirely.”

“Din, I wouldn’t expect such a thing,” you shake your head frantically, “Just because we have confessed our feelings, I would never expect you to take such a drastic step.”

“That…” he sighs, “Is precisely why I am taking such a step.”

You do not have time to vocalise any further protestations. Before another thought can enter your mind, Din lifts shaky gloved hands to the side of his helmet. You hear the unmistakable sound of a Mandalorian helmet depressurising. Something you had only ever heard through the door of the fresher until now.

Din trembles as he lifts his helmet. The emotion of the moment takes its toll as he prepares to finally bear his face to you. Your mind almost goes blank. All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and his heavy breaths.

As the gleaming helmet finally begins to lift across his features and reveal his face to you, you get your first glimpse of the man you love.

You see patchy stubble across his jawline, a neatly trimmed moustache plush which sits atop plush, full lips, a strong nose and then, with his helmet fully removed, his most striking feature of all. His eyes. The most soulful pair of deep brown eyes that you have ever encountered.

Din Djarin is stunning. Heartachingly so. 

With just one look at his face, you know that you will never be able to allow this beautiful man to slip through your fingers. 

“Din,” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears as he stands there before you, his helmet clutched before him as he looks up at you.

There is so much nervousness and anxiety in his gaze that your heart aches for him. Unable to bear the eye contact any longer, Din bends down and places his helmet at his feet with a satisfying clunk. 

He stands up straight again, but not to his full height. With his face bared and the slight tremble evident in his body. You no longer see a hulking Mandalorian warrior and feared bounty hunter. Instead, you see a frightened man, who has never known such intimacy before.

“You are so handsome, Din Djarin,” you whisper, as you close the distance between you. 

Din’s mouth hangs open as your words sink in. You raise your hand, realising you are trembling with emotion, and timidly place it along his jawline. The patchy stubble is scratchy underneath your fingers.

“Devastatingly handsome, in fact,” you clarify.

“Thank you,” Din nods gratefully.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Din swallows thickly, steadying himself. When his brown eyes fly open and meet yours again, you notice the apprehension has been replaced by something different altogether.

Din’s brown eyes are aflame, burning with desire for you. You sense he is desperate to act on his feelings, but unsure of how to proceed.

“Can I kiss you?” you request.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” Din murmurs, closing his eyes again.

“You’ll learn quickly,” you say encouragingly. 

Din nods slowly, without opening his eyes. 

You close the distance between you, hovering an inch from his lips. You want Din to make the final move, to bring your lips together.

When he finally does, it is so achingly sweet and timid that you are surprised this is the same man who has bent you over crates and driven into you over and over, at a relentless pace. Until you were bruised and sore the next day from the force. 

Din pulls away, breathing deeply. A simple touch has been almost overwhelming for him. 

You wait for his next move, allowing him to take the lead with what he is comfortable with. When Din finally leans in again, he is more eager to claim your lips. The kisses deepen, growing increasingly frenzied as your tongues collide. Your hand trails along Din’s jawline and grazes along his neck. When you move your hands into his hair and tangle your fingers in the soft strands there, Din groans and presses his body against you.

In response, you lean your head to the side to give him unfettered access to your mouth. Din does not hesitate to take advantage, deepening the kiss without hesitation. He moves his enormous hands up to your cheeks, cupping them in his enormous hands. 

Your kisses grow more desperate and frenzied, the moaning and panting increasing. Although Din was inexperienced and clumsy at first, your teeth clashing and his tongue searching yours desperately before he learned a more pleasurable ratio of tongue to mouth, you discover that he is indeed a quick learner. He nibbles on your lip, using his teeth in a way that he discovers you like as you throw your head backwards and gasp his name. You are still getting accustomed to the novelty of being able to call him something other than Mando. 

When your lungs burn, Din finally pulls away. The two of you furiously gulp air into your lungs, steadying your breaths as your eyes meet. You allow yourself to look at Din once again, admiring the features which are so new to you. Yet somehow, comfortingly familiar. You feel as though you have always known his face. In Din’s brown eyes, you see awe, shock and lust. Despite their already dark colour, they are blackened by something primal.

You are about to suggest taking this to your bunk when Din drops to his knees before you, a dark look on his face. You are about to question the gesture when he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of your pants and shimmies them down your legs as he goes. 

He kisses a path up your legs, pushing himself up so he kneels one leg as he pays particular attention to your inner thighs. Din takes his time teasing you. He removes the final barrier between you, discarding the pesky fabric elsewhere. 

When Din finally kneels before you, your glistening core bare to him you feel your knees weaken as he licks his lips at the sight in front of him. You groan, barely able to remain vertical. Thankfully, Din is holding your hips firmly in position, his gloved hands digging into your flesh.

At the sight of him on his knees like this before you, you think that this experience cannot possibly be any more arousing.

Then, his tongue touches you where you have been aching for him to place his mouth most of all, and you discover how wrong you were. 

He wastes no time sliding his tongue through your wet folds. Din makes up for his inexperience with enthusiasm and you move your hands down to run your fingers through his soft, dark curls. Keen to keep him in just the right spot, especially when he finally places his tongue where your fingers had been frantically circling minutes ago. 

“Din!” you gasp, when his tongue picks up its pace, clenching your thighs around his head and feeling his facial hair tickle your inner thighs.

Hearing his name fall from your lips in such a desperate manner only encourages him. He continues lapping at your core with a renewed fire and determination.

“Just there, just like that,” you praise.

Din continues for a few more moments and you feel your orgasm gathering pace within you. When your legs begin to shake, he moves his head back and you almost scream in frustration. But then you see the look on his face, and his sins are soon forgiven.

“Know how long I’ve wanted to bury my face between your thighs?” Din rasps, his voice barely audible and muffled thanks to his current position. “So beautiful,” he adds, before his tongue is on you again and all coherent thought leaves.

The pace is relentless now, Din swirling his tongue around your most sensitive spot as he seems driven to please you. To have you screaming his name so loud they can hear you all across the galaxy.

You chant his name over and over as your orgasm finally breaks, causing pleasure to reverberate throughout your body. Every inch of you is on fire for him. Din looks up at you, his brown eyes practically black. He makes an obscene slurping noise as he seems determined to collect everything on his tongue, not allowing a single drop of you to go to waste.

“Delicious,” Din rasps as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at you with a satisfied smirk. 

You cannot believe how much he seems to relish in your release. How much it arouses him. You know he has always enjoyed pleasing you, just as much as receiving his release. Now, his benevolent nature is on full display once again. 

Satisfied you can at least stand by yourself, Din rises to his feet. He looms over you, eyes meeting yours and softening briefly, with something which looks suspiciously like love. You wonder how long he has looked at you like that. How many affectionate glances have been stolen from your eyes by his helmet? 

None of that matters, now.

Your train of thought is interrupted as Din resumes kissing you, pinning you up against the cold metallic walls of the Razor Crest. You can barely breathe, unable to move for a few moments as he kisses you. Once you regain feeling in your trembling legs, you begin nudging Din in the direction of the bunk.

He never breaks the kiss as you stumble across the floor. Din cannot get enough of kissing you, his enormous hands roaming all over your body. 

The kiss is only broken once the back of your knees hits the bunk. You sit on the hard surface, looking up at him flirtatiously through your eyelashes. You decide Din is far too clothed for your liking and move to free his straining bulge from his tight brown flightsuit. Before you can feel his familiar length in your hand, he places his hand on your wrist and moves you away from him.

You look at him in confusion before he whispers, “Lie back, cyar’ika. Let me take care of you.”

You do as he says, but not before divesting yourself of your clothes. You lie back, awaiting him. Buzzing with excitement to finally lay eyes on Din Djarin in his entirety.

You are entranced as you watch his muscles contract and relax as he removes his flightsuit. Broad muscles and chest bared to you, then his stomach and lower... his muscular thighs and toned calves. The most incredible sight you have ever seen.

Din crawls up the bunk and positions himself on top of you, supporting himself with his elbows as he resumes your makeout session with just as much veracity as before. He plunges his tongue into your mouth over and over, desperate to taste you.

It seems as though Din is scared that he will never have a chance to claim you like this again. Later, you will remind him that you are his for the rest of your days.

For now, you cannot form words, conveying your pleasure only through broken sounds which are torn from your body by Din’s skilled mouth. 

The usual straining metallic groans of the Razor Crest as it hurtles through hyperspace are joined by its occupants’ moans and gasps as they collide.

You notice that Din has finally shed his gloves when he takes your breasts in his hands. Squeezing the soft flesh and staring at them as though it is the first time he has ever laid eyes upon them. In a way, it is the first time he has seen many of your features with his own eyes, finally free from the dark visor that distorts everything.

Suddenly remembering he can take your flesh in his mouth, Din begins kissing the valley between your breasts. He trails kisses along both of them, one at a time, paying them equal attention. As though he is worshipping you. Discovering new ways he can show his affection for you. With his helmet removed, an entire galaxy of new possibilities has been opened to him. Now, there are so many ways to demonstrate his affection for you, to revere all the parts of your body he loves so much. 

Although you are enjoying his ministrations, you are growing somewhat frustrated by Din’s languid pace. The frenzied kisses and touches have given way to gentle, almost timid, exploration of your body from Din’s lips. When you are about to whine pathetically and beg him to pay attention to your aching buds, Din finally envelops them in his wet heat. He begins paying careful attention to the most sensitive part of your breast. The place where you most wanted his mouth. 

You gasp as he begins mouthing sloppy kisses around your nipple, before finally swirling his tongue around your hardened peak. You arch your back off the bunk, giving more of yourself to him. Even in your desire-addled state, you think about how much better his mouth feels than gloved fingers and hands kneading your breasts. 

You grind your hips up against Din’s hardness, desperate for some friction. Clenching around nothing as he continues sucking your nipple, each swirl of his tongue only making you more desperate for him.

When you can take it no longer, you place your hand on Din’s head and pull his hair lightly. He looks up at you, raising a dark eyebrow at you.

“Din, please,” you whine, desperate for him to finally take you.

Often, the man you knew only as Mando would tease you at this point. When he had used his deft fingers to draw an orgasm or two from you, leaving you desperate for him. You knew he was satisfied that you were ready for him, but he still wanted to hear it from your mouth. Before giving you what you wanted, he would command you to use your words in a firm tone. Imploring you to tell him where you wanted him. 

Fortunately, it appears that the man who has confessed his love for you, will not cruelly tease you. Din is just as desperate as you are; aching for that moment when he finally enters you. 

Din kisses a hot trail up the column of your neck, thrusting his hips against you in desperation. He joins his lips with yours one last time before leaning up and taking himself in hand to line himself up with you.

“Wanted to savour this moment but, kriff! You’re so perfect…” Din rambles, “Don’t think I can wait,” he grunts as he notches himself at your entrance. 

“Then don’t,” you sigh, begging him to put you both out of your misery. 

Din nods, joining your lips one last time before he slides himself into you in one swift, fluid moment. You practically see stars. 

Somehow, he feels even bigger. It has not been too long since your last encounter. Even still, you have forgotten how impressive his length is. Your fantasies could not accurately capture how his hardness touches places so deep inside of you that you wonder how it is possible. 

Although the friction and sensation are delicious, particularly as Din keeps pressing kisses all over your face and neck, you know that you won’t last long. Since Din caught you earlier when you were so close, you have been on the edge almost continually. Now, he is thrusting into you at a relentless pace. That familiar ache is back. This time, there are no interruptions. Din does not slow down or pull away. You quickly come with another gasp of his name.

After watching you come undone, you are surprised that Din does not let himself go. That he does not allow himself the release you sense he is so desperately chasing. Instead, he continues to ride out your orgasm as he thrusts into you harshly.

“One more,” Din encourages, cupping your cheek in his hand, “I know you have one more for me.”

You nod shakily, eager to please him. In response, Din clashes your lips together, grunting against your lips as he finds a new increased tempo that you are stunned he could muster. All the while impressively maintaining a steady rhythm. 

“That’s it,” Din encourages as he feels the way your pants increase and your legs tremble.

When you come with another shout of his name, Din finally lets himself go. His thrusts become increasingly erratic before he finally comes with a shout of your name, burying his face into your neck. His pants are warm against your neck as he paints your belly with hot, thick ropes of his spend. 

Din stays like that for a few more moments, careful not to hurt you with his weight as he regains his composure lying on top of you. You feel so content and begin absentmindedly tracing circles into his warm, broad back. 

Then, he lifts himself from you. You smile when he lays his head next to you on the pillow, still feeling your heart leap as you realise that you actually get to look at his face. Din looks thoroughly pleased with the events of the night. Happy that he could please you over and over. 

“I love you, Din Djarin,” you whisper fondly as you bring your hand up to his jawline, stroking his cheek softly with your thumb. 

“I love you too, ner kar’ta,” Din smiles in return, turning his cheek to press a kiss on the palm of your hand.

Since that first encounter in the Cantina on Nevarro, you and Mando have always been partners. Travelling through the galaxy as a formidable, feared pair of bounty hunters.

Now, you and Din are partners… in every sense of the word. 

what are some ways to describe people other than eye and hair color

I am assuming you are looking for physical descriptors. Here are some examples. I may just make a different post on psychological descriptors.

Arms: Long, Muscular, Pudgy, Short, Skinny, Thin

Back: Bent, Hunched, Ramrod Straight, Rounded

Build: Anorexic, Athletic, Beefy, Brawny, Burly, Chubby, Coltish, Compact, Fat, Gangly, Gaunt, Gawky, Haggard, Heavy-set, Herculean, Husky, Lanky, Lithe, Muscular, Obese, Overweight, Petite, Rangy, Reed-like, Scrawny, Skinny, Slender, Slight, Solid, Spindly, Statuesque, Stocky, Strapping, Sylphlike, Taut, Thickset, Thin, Trim, Underweight, Voluptuous, Well-built, Willowy, Withered

Cheeks: Blushing, Bold, Curved, Dimpled, Bold, Curved, Dimpled, Disturbed, Glorious, Glowing, Hairless, High (cheekbones), Hollow, Honey, Livid, Pale, Pallid, Pink, Plump, Puffy, Radiant, Reddened, Rosy, Rounded, Ruddy, Shining, Smooth, Soft, Sun-burnt, Sun-bronzed, Sunken, Sun-tanned, Tanned, Tearful, White

Chin: Angular, Bony, Bumpy, Chiseled, Defined, Doughy, Firm, Protruding, Round, Smooth, Soft, Square, Strong

Ears: Jug-like, Large, Protruding, Tiny

Eyebrows: Arching, Bushy, Emphasized, Near, Spaced, Thick, Thin

Eyelashes: Artificial, Beaded, Beautiful, Blinking, Dark, Dark-fringed, Dense, Dusky, Heavily-fringed, Long, Mascaraed, Sandy, Sooty, Sopping, Tear-drenched, Thick, Uplifted

Eyes: Almond-shaped, Bright, Bulging, Expressive, Frightened, Gentle, Languishing, Little, Luminous, Made-up, Round, Shining, Shortsighted, Smart, Stunned, Thin, Wide, Woeful

Face: Baby, Blood-stained, Bold, Chiseled, Contorted, Dead, Expressionless, Fair, Familiar, Fierce, Flat, Frightened, Furrowed, Honest, Indifferent, Little, Pale, Poker, Pretty, Radiant, Rough, Ruddy, Sallow, Square, Stained, Swollen, Trim, Weather-beaten, Wry

Feet: Athlete's, Big, Flat, Pigeon-toed, Small, Sore, Stinky, Stubby, Swollen

Fingers: Gnarled, Long, Short, Stubby

Finger Nails: Bitten, Broken, Claw-like, Dirty, Hooked, Long, Painted, Sharp, Talon-like

Hair: Afro, Bald, Beehive, Braided, Bristles, Bun, Chignon, Coiffure, Combed, Corkscrew, Corn rows, Cowlicked, Crew cut, Curly, Disarrayed, Disheveled, Dreadlocks, Dry, Flattop, Flecked, French braid, French twist, Fringe, Greasy, Grizzled, Knotted, Layered, Locks, Matted, Messed up, Mohawk, Mussy, Muttonchops, Neat, Oily, Page boy, Perm, Pigtails, Plait, Pompadour, Ponytail, Ragged, Receding, Ringlets, Ruffled, Shaggy, Shorn, Shoulder-length, Skinhead, Spiky, Split-ended, Straight, Tangled, Thick, Thinning, Tidy, Topknot, Tousled, Twisted, Uncombed, Unshorn, Untidy, Wavy, Wiry, Wisps

Hand: Big, Elegant, Small

Height: Big, Knee-high, Medium, Short, Shoulder-high, Sky-high, Small, Tall, Towering, Waist-high

Legs: Amputated, Bandy, Bony, Bowed, Brawny, Bulging, Fluted, Gartered, Gouty, Graceful, Hacked, Hairy, Jagged, Knotted, Leaden, Long, Lower, Muscular, Pitiful, Rickety, Shapely, Shivering, Short, Sinewy, Slender, Slim, Spindle, Stockinged, Sturdy, Thin, Thread-like, Tinder, Tiny, Toothsome, Tree trunks

Lips: Blue, Cracked, Cupid's Bow, Downturned, Dry, Fat, Full, Grim, Large, Luscious, Parched, Parted, Red, Ruby, Small, Smiling, Thin, Wet

Mouth: Arch, Ascetic, Baby, Cavernous, Churning, Compressed, Cooing, Coral, Cracked, Cruel, Delicate, Dumpled, Distended, Dry, Fine, Firm, Frothy, Full, Funnel-shaped, Gaping, Grim, Handsome, Hungry, Insistent, Irritable, Large, Luscious, Munching, Musty, Perilous, Puckered, Querulous, Relaxed, Resolute, Sardonic, Sensuous, Serious, Slobbering, Small, Sulky, Sweet, Tender, Thin, Wide, Winsome, Wrinkled, Yawning

Neck: Bullnecked, Elegant, Long, Short, Swan-like, Thick

Palm: Broad, Oval, Rectangular, Square

Skin: Acned, Alabaster, Albino, Apricot, Black, Blemished, Blistered, Blooming, Blotchy, Blushing, Bronzed, Cadaverous, Calloused, Caramel, Clear, Craggy, Cream, Ebony, Fair, Flush, Freckled, Glowing, Greasy, Ivory, Jaundiced, Leathery, Lily-white, Lined, Milky, Mottled, Nut-brown, Olive, Pale, Pallid, Pasty, Peeling, Pimpled, Pink, Pitted, Pockmarked, Red, Rosy, Rough, Ruddy, Russet, Sallow, Scabby, Scarred, Smooth, Splotchy, Spotty, Sun-burnt, Tan, Wan, Waxen, White, Wrinkled, Yellow

Stomach: Bulging, Distended, Empty, Firm, Flabby, Flat, Heroic, Hollow, Lean, Paunchy, Protruding, Unbounded

Teeth: Artificial, Black, Blunted, Buck, Canine, Chattering, Clenched, Clinched, Compressed, Crooked, Dagger-like, Dazzling, Decayed, Deciduous, Extracted, False teeth, Feeble, Ferocious, Filed, Flashing, Fluoridated, Foam-laced, Fractured, Gap-toothed, Gleaming, Glistening, Glittering, Gnashing, Goofy, Grinding, Hooked, Horrid, Ivory, Jagged, Lacquered, Large, Milky, Mottled, Neglected, Pearly, Perfect, Pretty, Protruding, Razor-like, Sharp, Shining, Short, Small, Snowy, Sore, Spaced, Straight, Sweet tooth, Tender, Tiny, Toothless, Toothy, Ugly, Unrelenting, White, Wisdom, Wolfish, Yellow

Hope this helps! If it does, do tag me or send me a link to your writing. I'd love to read your work.

More: On Character Development

Leverage S03E09 The Three-Card Monte Job.

Leverage 1x11 - "The Juror #6 Job"

Old Man

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel needs glasses but won't admit it, and there's only an amount of teasing a man can take before he decides to show you just how much of an old man he is.

warnings: unprotected p in v sex, creampie, hair pulling, (joel gets a lil rough)

Ellie was the one to start it all,

I mean it's not like you hadn't noticed, but she was the one that started with the jokes.

Not very honorable of you to blame it all on the 14 year old, you knew... but still, just to get the record straight, you weren’t the one to tease him first.

“Gimmie Granpa” she had chuckled one time, grabbing the piece of paper where Maria had written down the recipe for her 'world-famous' casserole from his hands.

"Hey-" He'd protested,

"You can't see shit, man" she giggled, "Stop trying to fight it- you're getting old buddy"

And well from then on things had... escalated.

You'd yet to see a day where the poor man wasn't made fun of because of it, but truth be told, he really did need glasses.

You'd even suggested it to him more gently, in the comfort of your own room, away from Ellie's prying eyes.

"y'know baby, there's nothing wrong with getting glasses"

He'd looked at you as if you'd just told him to go fuck himself.

"Don't look at me like that" you'd smiled, rounding the bed to intertwine your hands behind his neck "It's for your own good"

"I don't need glasses"

"no?" you'd bit down a grin "you sure?"

"'m sure alright" he grumbled

"I bet Tommy would know where to get you a pair if you asked"

"darlin'"

"yes, baby?" you'd asked, hopeful

"I don't need 'em"

And you really did want to keep on trying to convince him, but then he'd kissed you and well- it must have slipped your mind.

Unluckily for him, not for a very long time.

He was in the bathroom, trying, or more specifically struggling, to open a bandaid for your injured finger.

It wasn't anything serious, just a little cut, but as you'd disinfected it, he'd insisted on covering it up, only of course you hadn't expected it to take so long.

"Baby, what's wrong, you can't find them?"

But the answer to your question was right before you as you entered the bathroom.

As I said, he was struggling.

A laugh bubbled up your throat as you took in his focused expression, the frown on his forehead, the squint in his eyes...

"Let me do it"

"No I can do it I just-" he tried to get it open again, failing miserably.

"Joel-" you smiled, walking up to him "let me" you said softly

And with a sigh, he surrendered, handing you the poor, tortured bandaid

"I could have done that" he grumbled as he watched you do it in a split second.

"Sure you could, old man" You grinned to yourself, carefully applying the bandage to your finger.

"What did you just say?"

A soft, breathless gasp fled your mouth-

He'd moved right behind you, and his hands were now on your waist.

"Jesus babe" you laughed,

"What did you say?"

His voice was rough, and his eyes... something had shifted behind his eyes.

You watched his reflection in the mirror before you as you answered

"I said I'm sure you could"

"Mhh" he hummed, his head lowering until he could dive into your neck and inhale your scent "The other thing"

"what other thing?" you feigned innocence, enthralled by his demeanor, by the almost predatorial look in his eyes

"You know what"

"no I don'-"

But you didn't have time to finish, he'd already grabbed you by your hair, pulling your head back until his mouth was ghosting yours

"you called me an old man, darlin'?"

He was a different man from a minute ago.

This was the Joel Miller people feared, the one that killed without remorse, the one that fucked you rough- the once that a sick and twisted part of you revered.

"Baby I was jokin-"

"didn't look like it" he growled, his clothed hard-on pressing into your ass making you whimper, "you think I'm an old man, babydoll?" he murmured, his grip tightening around your hair "I'll show you how much of an old man I am"

Next thing you knew, your upper body was flushed against the sink's countertop, and your shorts were at your feet, together with your panties.

You watched from the mirror as he freed his cock with the hand that wasn't holding you down, and then you felt it-

"will you look at that" he chuckled darkly, the tip of his dick sliding between your folds with ease "you're makin' a mess for an old man, babydoll"

"J-Joel" you whimpered

"no no darlin'" he cooed "You've brought this on yourself- now you're gonna be good and take it, alright?"

When you didn't respond, he yanked your head back, forcing you to look at him through the mirror

"alright?" he bent down, growling in your ear

"y-yes"

"try not to be too loud," he whispered "You wouldn't want people to know how much you like getting fucked by an old man"

You had no time to respond, to tell him how much you didn't care, because he'd already pushed himself fully inside of you, and the only thing you could do was scream.

"you can't help yourself can ya?" he muttered, watching your face contort in all sorts of bliss-induced expressions "The old man gives it to ya too good, 's that it?" he groaned, feeling your walls squeeze around him

"look at me" he ordered, pulling your hair again, making you open your eyes and watch him as he ruthlessly slammed inside of you "Look at the old man who's fuking you, darlin', don't be rude" he grinned

The sound of his skin against yours reverberated through the bathroom, and god it was nasty.

"f-fuck" you tried to speak, tears tarnishing your vision

"I know, I know" he pretended to care, getting up from where he was pressing his torso onto your back, using a hand to get you to remain flush against the sink "I'm going too slow, ain't I?"

Oh shit

Oh fucking shi-

If you thought he was going hard before... you hadn't seen anything.

You couldn't fully create one single thought in your mind as he picked up his pace, as he started literally slamming into you fast and hard enough to break you in half.

"I'm jus' an old man after all babydoll, ain't I?" he breathed, one hand still on your back while the other was still forcing your head up to look at him "You'll understand if I can't fuck you as hard as you'd like" it was like he wasn't hearing how loud you were moaning, how breathless your whines and gasps where each time his dick hit your cervix "what's that?" he mocked "you need it harder darlin'?"

"J-Joel-" you whined, begging, pleading for what you weren't even sure

"shh I got you baby" he cooed, bending down to whisper in your ear again, slowing down his pace just to thrust so fucking deep and hard into you you swore you saw stars "I know my old man's pace ain't enough for you doll"

But it was- Oh it was more than enough.

And yet he didn't care- he was going even harder, even faster, even deeper, and you... you didn't even remember your name anymore.

You could feel the thickness of his cock as it slammed into you over and over and over again, the way it would hit the most hidden spots inside of you, the ones only Joel had only ever been able to find, and then-

And then you could hear his grunts and strangled groans as he fucked you within an inch of your life, as his hair fell to his forehead and tears streamed down your face and your eyes struggled to remain open, struggled to keep on watching him as he fucked you from behind with enough force to break the fucking sink you were on.

Until it got to be too much, until you felt your stomach tighten and the fuse lighting, until he hit that secret spot once again, and all you could do was close your eyes as bliss took over your body, as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

"look at you" he groaned "coming all over an old man's cock" he breathed, your walls squeezing him too good to do anything else but follow suit "letting an old man come deep inside of ya"

It took a long moment for either of you to wake up from the sex-induced haze, but Joel was in much better shape than you, so it was him who came back earlier.

he begrudgingly pulled out, enjoying for a moment too long his own handy work before he helped you up, picking you up bridal style once he realized how useless your legs had become.

"baby" you murmured, before he could place you on the bed "You know I was joking right?" you said, leaning up to kiss him, your mouth catching his in a sweet, gentle kiss that contradicted completely the way he'd just ruined your ability to walk properly

"You're not an old man" you promised

"mh?" he hummed, kissing you again just because he could

"yeah" you smiled, melting into the kiss for what felt like an eternity

He was holding you gently, watching your eyes as they begged to close.

"good" he hummed against your mouth, watching it twist into a devious little smirk as a spark ignited in your eyes

"Although I still think you should at least consider getting glasses-"

"darlin'" he stopped you immediately "I suggest you stop talkin''"

"or what?" you bit down a grin, laughing softly

"Or Tommy's gonna be real mad when you tell him you can't make it to patrol tomorrow 'cause your legs don't work"

Cuttlefish can change color to fade into the background. It can do it amazingly fast.

Leverage 2x1 - "The Beantown Bailot Job"

Leverage 1x11 - "The Juror #6 Job"

Leverage S04E05 The Hot Potato Job.

Leverage 1x2 - "The Homecoming Job"

Leverage S03E02 The Reunion Job.

Bonus closeup:

Leverage 1x2 - "The Homecoming Job"