dockett

[dockett]

All The Very Best of Us II Din Djarin x Reader

Born to Beg For You: non-linear one shots. The Mandalorian helps a slave.

Summary: You take some initiative.

Warnings: minors dni, 18+ only! Smut!! Oral/fingering (f! Receiving), unprotected p in v.

Word count: 2.6k

Hello my friends! I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come out with another post, but here you are! This takes place after Everything I Love! Hope you all enjoy!

You fidgeted, nervous as you pulled at the bra you were wearing. You watched your reflection as you listened to Djarin move about the ship. You sighed, looking over yourself. The lingerie was a deep red, crimson as blood, and it hugged your body in all the right ways. You felt… pretty. A rarity. 

Would he think the same? 

You pushed away the immediate thought of rejection that followed, your brain conjuring the image of the Mandalorian refusing you—dismissing you even. Shaking your head, you tried to focus on the facts: he allowed you to sleep in his bunk now—encouraged it, even. You had learned in your time with him that his primary love language was physical affection, his arms always wrapped around you at night, his hands always finding a place at the small of your back during the day. You had danced around your affection for each other, never verbalizing it.

He had told you weeks before that he had wanted you, but he wanted to take it slow. You hesitated again. Would this be pushing the boundary he had wanted to hold with you? You finally met your eyes in the mirror, and you heard him make his way into the cockpit, no doubt doing his final check over everything before getting settled to rest with you. 

You nodded to yourself as you came to a conclusion, you would try, and if he wasn't ready, it didn't mean he wouldn't eventually be. Before you could second guess yourself, you opened the fresher door and made your way to his bunk. 

You sat down on the bed to wait for him and you felt the seconds tick by, slow and agonizing. 

When you heard his footsteps, you leaned back, staring at the door. He knocked once, asking, “Can I come in?” 

“Yes,” you called, bracing yourself. 

The door slid open and he stepped once before stopping completely. His helmet was focused on you, visor gleaming in the low light. He didn't move or speak, making no indication of what was on his mind. You glanced away, feeling your cheeks heat up. 

“I… I hope that this is okay,” you mumbled. “I was—well, I am—nervous.” 

He shook his head after a beat, stepping fully into the small space and closing the door behind him. You swallowed, bare feet rubbing against each other in anxiousness. He took another step, and lifted his arms, slowly reaching to discard his gloves. You held your breath as his golden skin came into view. His hands reached for you as he got closer, fingers wrapping around your ankles and pulling your feet apart. 

A shudder ripped through your body as he finally spoke. “This is more than okay.” His voice dripped with desire and a feverish heat ravaged through your body, lighting your skin on fire. “Do you think you can do this to me and get away with it, mesh’la? Maker, you're tempting me.” 

He knelt down onto the bed, his hands now tracing up your thighs. You breathed harder, head tilted down as you gazed up at him through your eyelashes. 

“Tempting you?” You asked coyly. “I'm not doing anything.”

He hummed. His hand gripped your hip as the other came to your cheek, cradling it in a gentle hold. His thumb brushed over your lip. You knew he was staring at them from under that visor. You were seized with an idea, and slowly, you took his thumb into your mouth and without looking away, you sucked. 

His hand tightened its hold on your side and his chest heaved. You smiled, delighted by the effect you had on him and released his thumb with a loud ‘pop!’

“Senaar…” he groaned. Your thighs trembled and wetness pooled between them. 

“I want you,” you told him, moving to kiss the palm of his hand. You had wanted him for a long, long time. His body pulled away, and you frowned, reaching to keep him close, but he was too fast for you.

Panic ensued, and you felt that maybe you shouldn't have said what you said. The room was plunged into darkness a second later as you tried to gather your thoughts. 

“Need to taste you,” he growled, stepping back towards you. Then, you heard the sound of metal being set down. A harsh realization struck you. He was taking off his armor.

“Stop,” you said. All movement halted. It was impossible to see anything with the lights off. “Are… are you sure?” 

A pause before you heard, “I am.”

“Wouldn't that be—”

“It's fine, mesh'la.”

You hesitated, but finally nodded. “Okay.”

Nervousness tingled in your stomach and he told you to take off your bralette. More soft clinking sounds echoed through the room, and then the unfamiliar hiss of his helmet being detached. The bed dipped with his weight, his hands reaching and finding your legs in the dark after you had discarded the lingerie. You startled when you felt his lips, and the faintest scratch of facial hair, along your calf. 

His hands trailed up the tops of your thighs, fingers curling around your underwear before sliding the pair off and down your legs, discarding them somewhere on the floor. He kissed up your leg, and you shuddered. Was this even real? Was Din Djarin really between your legs, helmet forgotten, or was this another dream?

He meandered, taking his time with you. When his breath coiled over your pubic mound your hips bucked. He chuckled, the sound almost foreign without the modulator in the way. Your breath hitched in your throat as his arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you down firmly in place. 

You whined, shivering as he kissed the junction of your pelvis and thigh. You could feel his smile against your skin. Maker, his smile. You trembled again, gasping out, “Don't tease me.” 

“Getting impatient?” He said back, tone light. Your thighs threatened to slam close around his head, his voice shaking you to your core. He laughed again, and then leaned in closer. “I've been waiting to taste you, senaar. Teach me.”

Your hands reached for him then, your skin on fire from his breath. Fingers pushed into his hair—curls—and pulled him closer to you. His tongue tentatively licked up through your folds and your back arched off the bed. You'd been waiting, too, you realized. You'd wanted this for a long time.

A soft hum came from the man and then without hesitation as you tugged on his hair, he ate you out like he was starving for it. Maybe he was. 

His right arm moved, releasing your thigh as he brought his fingers to your pussy, dipping a digit into your entrance. He licked small circles around your clit, an action that had you seeing stars. Your hand tightened its grip, and your moans increased in pitch. 

You could feel it rising within you, your orgasm threatening to break you with its growing intensity. He listened to every change in tone, every jerk of your body, repeating his patterns and inserting another finger. He curled them inside of you. Your body arched off the bed again. “Djarin!” 

“Again,” he growled. “Say it again.”

You did so, repeating his name like a prayer until you couldn't even think of anything else. All that was in that moment was him, his hips grinding into the bed in time with the thrusts of his fingers, his mouth sucking on your clit, his breath insanely hot against you. It was all too much. 

“Yes, yes! Right there!” 

“I want you to cum on my fingers, mesh’la. Want to taste—” 

Your thighs abruptly slammed closed around his head as your climax ripped through you, exploding inside your abdomen, causing your body to tighten over and over again as you shook. Liquid fire filled your veins and you felt like you couldn't get enough air into your lungs. You groaned his name as he worked you through it, pace slowing but not stopping. You could hear him talking, little words in Mando’a—mesh'la, kandosii’la, ner riduur. 

You didn't know what the words meant, but you craved them all the same. You scrambled to try and get away from him as the attention became too much, hissing through your teeth. 

“Nayc, mesh'la,” he asserted. “I'm not done.” 

You shivered as his arm grew tighter around you, holding you down. His fingers curled inside of you. Your body jerked in response, a high pitched whine dripping from your lips. Everything you could feel and hear in the dark was him, and Maker you wanted this to be how it was every night.

He laughed, a deep rumble from his chest that had you reeling. You had said the last part out loud. Your face burned. He licked a broad stripe over your folds and your insecurities were pushed away and out of your brain.

“Din, please,” you mumbled as your head lulled to the side. Another swipe of his tongue had you shaking, hips jerking against his hold. 

“Please? What do you want?” He asked as the hand you had in his hair slid down to caress his cheek. Din leaned into your touch. 

You swallowed, relaxing back into the bed. “I want you inside me.”

His head pulled away and you twitched when his lips pressed against your stomach. Climbing his way up to your chest, he kissed you every inch of the way and you reveled in the feeling of his powerful body sliding against you, of his lips on your skin. 

The Mandalorian’s mouth was hot on your nipple when he licked over it, his teeth experimental as they grazed over your breast. Your body arched into him and he eagerly began to suck on your nipples. Soft sounds escaped from your mouth, which seemed to encourage his tenacity. 

His mouth, after satisfied with both nipples, began to trail up to your neck, where he kissed up and across your jaw. You turned to meet him, your lips locking together in a surprisingly chaste kiss. He exhaled loudly and pulled back when you brushed your hips against the hard bulge of his flight suit. Your hand fell to his shoulder, the other entwining in his hair. 

“Will you fuck me, Din? Please?” You whispered into his ear. 

All Djarin could do was nod before pulling away completely. 

You heard a shuffle as he took off the last layer of clothing he had on. When he came back down and reached for you, you grabbed onto him and rolled you both over, until you were on top, legs straddling his hips. 

His hands slid up your thighs to your hips, where he gripped them firmly. You shuddered at the feeling of his hard cock pushing up against your core, and you rocked your hips against him. He huffed, his fingers tightening on your flesh. You repeated your movements, filled with delight and excitement when you heard him groan. 

“Mesh’la,” he gasped. “Please… want to be—”

You listened as he cut himself off with a gasp as you reached down, wrapping your hand around him and pumping several times. You continued to hold him against your folds, covering him in wetness. Din breathed hard, his body shaking under yours. When you were ready, you slid him inside of you. 

His whole body jerked under you as he hissed through his teeth. You let out a growl of satisfaction, feeling his hard and delicious length fill you up in every way you wanted. His grip was sure to bruise as he panted beneath you. Your hands came to rest on his chest and you tested the waters by shifting your hips slowly. 

Your hands tightened on him in return when you heard Din whine. You couldn't help your bodily reaction as your thighs squeezed his hips a little tighter. You were making him, the mighty Mandalorian, into nothing but a whimpering mess beneath you. Fire lit inside you, burning through your veins, and you leaned down, moving one of your hands up to his jaw, where you tilted his head up. You brushed over his lip with your thumb in the dark before you brought your lips to his. 

You rolled your hips, drinking down the sounds he gave to you with each rise and fall of your body. Your lips moved together as his hands moved and brushed up to your hips. He gave a gentle push and pull, diligently keeping time to your rhythm. You pulled away from the intimate kiss, before peppering kisses down his jaw and neck to his collarbone. You pulled yourself up and began to set a harder pace.

Djarin’s moan then was a deep and gravelly growl, his hands pushed you harder as he brought his own hips up, slamming into you unexpectedly. You pitched forward as his arms came up, wrapping around you and holding you tight to him. His mouth found your neck, placing wet and sloppy kisses over your skin. Your body jerked against him, a gasp dripping from your lips as he started to fuck you. 

He moaned softly against your skin, “So… tight… senaar.”

Your body tightened as his voice, thick with the fog of pleasure, washed over you. You quickly began to grind your hips down, meeting him thrust for thrust. His mouth came up the side of your neck until he found your earlobe. He gripped it gently with his teeth before tugging on it, which caused your body to jerk. You quickly became overwhelmed, trying to focus on shifting your body to keep up while he distracted you with his teeth and lips. He continued to breathe hard against you. 

Placing your hands on either side of him, you pushed against his grip. His arms fell away, and his pace slowed, letting you take back the control. You felt elated and ravenous, beginning to bounce up and down, hearing the slap of your skin against his. His name dripped from your lips and he jerked up in response. 

You could feel it rising within you, an impending orgasm being pulled from deep within your stomach. Your body began to tense, fluttering around his cock as your eyebrows furrowed. You moaned, loud and uncontrolled, as he shifted up against you once more. His hand reached up, moving to grab onto your breast as he sat up. He found your nipple with his mouth, sucking it eagerly, and then you were lost in the darkness. 

Your eyes slammed closed, brightly colored dots dancing in your vision. You felt yourself shake against him, your body twitching and jerking with each wave of your release. Din stilled, gasping and pressing you down onto him to prevent you from moving further. 

“Where can—senaar’ika—I can't—”

Through the trance of pure pleasure, you could see him holding back, waiting for you as best as he could, wanting to please you. You rocked your body forward and back, signaling to him as best you could without words. You felt too overwhelmed to speak. Within seconds, he was pushing in and out of you, your thighs a twitching mess, before burying himself as deep as he could. A strangled grunt dropped from his lips, a strained whimper of your name, and then he was twitching inside of you. 

You practically collapsed, body falling against his. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you off of his cock while keeping you pressed close to him. You both breathed hard in the dark and suddenly you felt like crying. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this safe. 

“Rest, cyar’ika,” he said to you, his breathing finally calmed. “I will be here when you wake.” 

You immediately felt comforted, curling even closer to him, and soon your eyes were closed, and you were drifting into sleep. You felt him settle down beneath you, both of you enveloped in the darkness, and basking in the presence of each other until you couldn't think anymore. 

[dockett]

A Needle In The Dark II Din Djarin x Reader

Born to Beg For You: non-linear one shots. The Mandalorian helps a slave.

Summary: Taking some time to yourselves on a deserted planet goes wrong.

Warnings: minors dni, 18+ only! Animal attack, depiction of wounds and cauterizing, flashbacks, then of course smut! Fingering, unprotected P in V.

Word count: 4k

You had turned away, not for very long, and when you flipped back around, Grogu was gone. The fear crashed into you, paralyzing you with waves of anxiety. You looked around, calling for him, but you were met with quietness and no trace of the child. 

Then you heard it, faintly, to the north: crying. You took off, brush scratching at your arms and face as you barreled through the fauna. Something in his crying had you unable to breathe as you ran closer and closer to the sound. Something didn't sit right with you. His ad’ika was in danger, and you charged through the forest, trampling brush and scaring off little creatures.

You could see him, in a meadow just up ahead. Relief poured into your aching chest.

Sliding to a stop in front of him you bent down to pick him up, saying, “Maker, you scared me Grogu!”

A growl sounded from behind you, stopping you in your tracks. You whipped around, keeping the child at your back. Something was out there. Then you saw the movement, a large animal, a cat maybe, stalking through the bushes.

You didn't have time to think, only to react.

The felinoid came at you, pouncing from the underbrush and you didn't hesitate in pulling out your knife. You didn't have time to second guess as you ducked forward, holding the blade in the firm grip you were taught. You would protect the child with your life, and that's what you were going to do.

•••

Din Djarin could hear Grogu, and when he finally made out the sounds of crying, and then your own blood curdling scream, he bolted towards the sound. He came crashing into the meadow, blaster pulled, to see you underneath a massive floating cat, stabbing furiously at its belly from underneath. He could see the child, holding it up in the air as he had done for Djarin and the mudhorn. You were screaming still, covered in blood. 

Was any of it yours?

The Mandalorian pushed himself forward, “Senaar!” 

He shoved the cat aside, and it fell to the ground a few meters away, unmoving. Grogu swayed, sitting down from the exertion. You gasped on the ground, hands dropping the knife in favor of shooting to your side. To his horror, you had four large gashes across your skin. The feline had gotten you. 

A million things crossed his mind, and each thought scared him even more. The fear felt paralyzing as vivid images of a life without you in it flashed behind his eyes. 

“Djarin, get Grogu to the ship,” you wheezed, breathing hard as your head fell back. “Please.”

“I'm not leaving you,” he stated, voice firm as he knelt beside you.

“Yes. You are,” you insisted, and then groaned. Your breathing was growing more labored. “You can't carry us both. Dank ferrik.”

Mando snarled then, an angry and uncharacteristic sound for him. “I am not leaving you, senaar.”

He lifted his arm, summoning Grogu’s pram to their location. He pulled his cowl around, pressing the fabric against the gashes to try and staunch the bleeding. He watched your face contort in pain at the pressure, a gurgling gasp leaving you as your hand shot to his wrist, you squeezed him hard, trying to get out words.

“You have to… you have to take him, please.” 

Your eyes began to roll back, delirious from the pain, and then they closed. Din could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. Panic was overtaking him. 

“Senaar, I need you to listen to me. I need you to hear me. I need you to stay awake. I need you to fight through this.” He pressed harder, your grip began to relax. “Senaar, please. Don't go where I can't follow.”

•••

He held you close to him, navigating the brush as fast as he could, on a mission to get you to the ship. He needed to stop the bleeding but he could feel the anxiety rising within him; it would need to be cauterized, and he wasn't sure if he could stomach hurting you in such a way. 

You began to mumble, incoherent at first, and Mando assumed you were going in and out of consciousness. You were fighting, fighting to stay with him and Grogu, fighting to live, just like you always had. He ducked under a branch and said, “That's it senaar, keep talking.” 

“Hurts… Djarin…” 

“I know,” he replied. “But you're gonna be okay.” 

“M’sorry,” you whispered. “Y-you deserve better.” 

Your words tore through his heart, the sheer sadness laced in your tone made his chest tighten with grief. Did you not know how important you were to him? He glanced down at you. Your eyes weren't open. “Nayc, senaar. I'm sorry.” 

“I'm a burden.”

“You are no such thing.” He could see the ship now, and he felt a bolt of adrenaline rush though him. It wasn't far. “You are ner aliit. We're almost there. I need you to hang on a little longer, can you do that for me?”

A pained groan was your response. He ran up into The Horizon, turning into the first bunk—technically yours, though you didn’t sleep in it anymore. He laid you down on the bed and then quickly went to retrieve the medkit.

He cut apart your shirt when he returned, surveying the damage. It wasn't looking good, and he felt the color leave his face. He knew this wouldn't be easy. The Mandalorian did his best, but he was no doctor. The noises you made at his hand made his stomach churn. You grasped onto the arm bracing you, fingers digging into him hard enough that he could feel the sting, groaning and kicking one of your legs. 

“I know, I know,” he whispered. “I'm sorry.”

You powered through until the third gash, then you couldn't seem to be able to stop the scream that tore through your mouth as he cauterized the wound. He flinched, nearly dropping the tool in his hand. He felt bile rise in his throat, like he was going to throw up, and he felt dizzy on his feet. This was too much, too much for him to bear. The thought of intentionally hurting you was such a foreign idea that now that he was, he was physically repulsed. 

He did the job as quickly as he could. You finally collapsed back on the bed when he was done, sweaty and hot to the touch. His hands shook as he stepped away to grab some bacta pads, staring at you. Your head rolled to the side, eyes fluttering as you tried to find him. You tried to lift your hand, failing and having it fall to your side. 

“Din,” you whispered. “Don't… don't go…”

He brushed his trembling hand against your cheek, and then applied the patches to the freshly cauterized wounds. “I'm going to get us into hyperspace. I'll be right back. I promise.” 

And that's exactly what he did, hardly able to focus on what he was doing, just moving by muscle memory. He set The Horizon en route to Tatooine, and then he returned to you.

Grogu was beside you when he came into the room, ears drooping. Mando just nodded his head, “She’ll be okay, kid.” 

She has to be, he thought, as he looked over your sleeping face. It was two rotations to Tatooine. You slept through both. 

•••

You woke slowly, eyes cracking open and then closing as bright light flooded your vision. You felt heavy, like your body was full of rocks, and you struggled to open your eyes again. When you did, you felt someone grab your hand at your side. Eyes glancing over, you caught a flash of shiny beskar: Din. 

He was at your side, gazing at you intently through his helmet as his thumb brushed over the top of your hand. Memories flooded you, of the attack, of your brutal defense as the child wielded his powers to try and save you, and the devastating feeling of your wounds being cauterized. You could feel your side ache at the thought of the sting. 

“Ner mesh’la senaar,” he murmured. “How are you feeling?”  You considered his words. How were you feeling? Where were you? Things felt spotty in your memory, as though your brain was purposefully trying to hide something from you. Your body ached and you felt that if someone asked you to lift your arms, you wouldn't be able to. You cleared your throat before saying, “Like shit.”

He nodded, slow and deliberate. “We're on Tatooine,” he said. “Grogu is safe.” He was seemingly always able to tell what your next questions would be. You moved, trying to sit up, and immediately his hand was on your shoulder, halting you. You furrowed your brows. 

“You shouldn't move too much, we didn't want to put you in the bacta tank until you woke up,” he explained. Your other hand came to your side, feeling the bandages wrapped around your torso. 

“Well I want to sit up,” you said plainly.

Djarin didn't say anything, turning his head away from you. You could hear footsteps approaching. The curtain around the two of you was slowly pushed away, and a rather tall togruta in standard medical clothing stepped forward, a clipboard in his hands. 

“Hello,” he greeted with a gentle smile. His eyes held a kindness in them that made you instantly relax. “My name is Vabryr, and I am your medical practitioner.”

You returned his smile, even if it was small.

“Mando, would you excuse us?” 

Your smirk disappeared. Your hand turned over in his hold, grasping onto his like a lifeline. “I would like it if he stayed.” 

He squeezed your hand, almost imperceptible.

Vabryr gave you a nod, his lips still turned up at the ends. “Well. I have some good news, and I have some bad news. I encourage you to make use of our bacta tank, though it is your choice. Bacta will be helpful of course, but the initial injury and then the cauterization did a lot of damage. The scars will be significant, and while the regenerative properties of bacta have been shown to help cauterized wounds, they heal slower. It may take several “dips”, so to speak, before you will be somewhat back to your normal self.”

“How long?” You asked. 

“Depends on how your body takes to the bacta. Could be up to a few weeks before you're fully back on your feet.”

“And without bacta?” 

“Several months,” he said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “At minimum.”

You turned your head to Djarin. “Do you want my opinion?” He asked, tone firm. You nodded your head in response. “I think considering the… damage, the bacta tank is worth a shot. But whatever you choose, I will support you, cyar’ika.” 

His hand squeezed yours again, and you turned back to Vabryr, weighing your options. You'd been in a bacta tank before, when they had lashed your back, and you remembered hating every second of it. The smell, the slimy residue it left on your skin, the tingling sensation of the body regenerating, it was all associated with the trauma of taking those blows for your sister—who you never saw again. 

Finally, you nodded your head. “I'll try.” 

•••

The whip cracked, tearing through sensitive and puckered skin. It ruptured the epidermis. Blood poured over you, spilling out of the wounds on your back. You opened your eyes, meeting hers as she watched in horror.

You had to turn your head down, looking away. 

You couldn't bear to see her. 

The whip cracked again, and your eyes slammed shut.

•••

Bacta was just as terrible as you remembered, but at least this tank was easier to get in and out of than the other one you had been in before. The doctor’s assistants helped you out, and to your surprise and glee, you were able to stand without collapsing from searing pain. The ache was still there, blooming like a soft, throbbing bruise, but it was much more manageable. You had made the right decision, even if the vivid flashes of the day you lost your sister were prevalent in your mind.

You were troubled as you waited for Din Djarin in the med bay and when he walked in, you knew he could see it. He took his place by the bed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, his chin on his knuckles. Tears were welling up in your eyes before either of you spoke. His helmet tilted slightly, waiting for you to make the first move. He knew better than to press you. 

“I hate bacta,” you finally sputtered out. “I hate being alone with my thoughts for six fucking hours.”

He leaned back. “You don't have to do it again.” 

You shook your head. “I know, but it already feels so much more manageable. I think one more time in there should get rid of most of the pain.”

You swallowed, the tears spilling over, and one of his hands reached to brush them away. “All I can think about is her, Din, how I failed her. I don't understand why I can't get through this.”

“Oh, senaar,” he murmured. “You are kotyc. If anyone can make it through this, it's you.”

You threw the word, kotyc, back at him questioningly, testing the word in your mouth. 

“Strong,” the Mandalorian replied. “You are strong.”

You felt your cheeks warm. The earnest tone, the words, the way his visor faced you, it all played through your mind over and over. You are strong. You reached for him then, a sob spilling from your lips as you grabbed onto him, encouraging him to move up and onto the bed. He sat beside you, pulling you into the most gentle hug he'd ever given you. His hands held you as though you were glass, threatening to shatter at any moment. 

“I know this isn't easy, and I'm sorry.” 

You could feel the weight behind his words. He was sorry for a lot, that much you knew, like not being there when the attack happened, or the pain he put you through by burning the lacerations closed. He had told you the night before, his voice had been tight with emotion, about how grateful he was to you for saving Grogu. 

Nodding, you only cried harder. “I-I don't know what to do.”

“We will figure it out. Together.”

He leaned his head forward, touching your forehead to his helmet.

•••

You braved one more dip in the tank, and when you were done, you were able to get out on your own and walk without assistance. You were sore, but it was much easier to handle, and that was good enough for you. You wanted to get the slimy residue of bacta off your skin. 

Djarin insisted on having a hand at the small of your back the entire way back to the ship after they cleared you to be released from the med bay. You wanted to be home, and when you stepped aboard, you knew you were. 

You told him you wanted to rinse off, and that you'd like to do it on your own. Mando understood, you hadn't seen yourself since before the attack, and you wanted to assess the damage alone. You gazed in the mirror for a long time, gently feeling over the raised, discolored and sensitive scars across your side. You fought the tears welling up in your eyes. 

The refresher felt heavenly, distracting you from your anxious thoughts. You scrubbed at your skin, feeling the grime of the past week wash away entirely.

You stepped out of the refresher door, dressed and relaxed. You could hear Grogu, babbling, and then Djarin, his response muffled. A thrill went through you at the thought of seeing the ad'ika; you had missed him. When the refresher door opened, Grogu and Din both snapped their heads to you from where they sat on some of the crates in the hold, the little one’s hands immediately raising to reach for you. 

Swooping in, you picked him and listened to his shrill giggle as you lifted him into your arms, ignoring the twinge of an ache at your side. “I missed you, too, buddy.”

Din stood then, wrapping around you to set his chin on your shoulder, and his hands around your waist. 

“We can go anywhere,” he said. “Where would you like to start this time?”

“You choose. For now, I think I'd like to eat something and rest,” you replied, and leaned your head against his helmet. He hummed his acknowledgement and then pulled away, leaving you to walk up into the cockpit.

You felt comfy, for the first time in a week, eating with Grogu, relaxing in the hold. You smiled to yourself; despite how difficult this ordeal had been, you had made it. It was over.

•••

Din Djarin woke you in the dark, gentle and practiced in his movements. You noted his hands were bare, skin warm against yours as he brushed his hands along your side and hip. You sighed, “What’re you doing?” You asked, voice groggy with sleep. 

“I've missed you,” he stated, his voice free of the modulator.

He touched you gingerly, hand sliding next to your breast, not moving down further. You still ached, but the feel of him close to you, armorless and desiring you, sparked a fire within. It curled into your lower stomach and the apex of your thighs, wetness gathering between them. 

He gently pushed on you, rolling you onto your back before settling his hips between your legs. You crossed your ankles behind him, caging him up against your body. He hummed, peppering your shoulder, neck and jaw with kisses. Your hands found him in the dark, one curling into his hair and the other dragging your fingers down the center of his back. He jerked under your caress. 

You smirked to yourself. Djarin was always sensitive to your touch, always reactive under your careful hands. He trusted you with the parts of himself he'd never let anyone hold before, and you trusted him. The two of you, together, were insatiable for each other. He moved his head, trailing his lips up across your cheek to your mouth, where he kissed you deeply. 

His hand gripped your breast, massaging it with a firmness he'd perfected, and your lips parted as you gasped. He took the opportunity to delve his tongue into your mouth, sliding it alongside yours. He moaned, soft and quiet, reserved only for your ears. 

You loved these little moments of intimacy with him, warm and comfortable.

His hips ground against you, pressing his hardness over your pubic mound. In turn, your body shuddered underneath his. He pulled his head back, kissing down your jaw and neck as he moved against you. His fingers pressed harder into your chest, squeezing and pulling at you. Your back arched off the bed as you cried his name. You could feel him smirk against you. 

“So sensitive,” he murmured. “Just for me. What do you want, mesh’la?”

It was difficult to answer, mostly because you knew he wanted specifics. You were putty in his hands, and pulling together a full sentence was damn near impossible. You knew he liked how wordless he made you, and that's part of why he asked as often as he did. Another harsh pull on your breast, another arch of your back, and you cried out, “Inside me, please, whatever you'll give me!”

He pulled away from you, much to your displeasure, and you whined at the loss. He chuckled. 

“Patience, senaar’ika.” 

You whined again and his body shivered as he leaned his weight to his left. His right hand came up, pulling your underwear aside. His fingers rubbed against your folds before one dipped into you. You could hear him moan as he felt your wetness, his mouth finding your neck again.

“Bid piryc,” he whispered against you in Mando’a. You breathed harder as you listened to his husky voice. “So wet for me.” 

Body quivering at his touch, you gripped him tightly in your hands, grounding yourself in the moment. You could feel every press of his warm body to yours, strong and unyielding. Heat sizzled in your core, sparked from where he was curling—now two—fingers inside your tight pussy. His teeth dug into the skin of your shoulder, and you cried out before he soothed the bite with his tongue. 

“You're being such a good girl,” he said. “Do you think you're ready for me?”

You nodded frantically. “Yes! Yes, please, Din!” 

His fingers pulled out of you, leaving you anticipating his next moves with bated breath. His hands pulled your underwear off entirely, quite literally ripping them off you. You gasped, squirming under him as he repositioned himself between your legs. He bent down, capturing your lips in a soft and tender kiss: a promise of gentleness despite what was coming, and then pushed himself into you without any warning. 

Your mouth opened to him as you gasped, feeling like he was pulling away your ability to breathe. His body pulled away from you, grabbing onto your legs behind your knees before pushing them up towards your chest. He leaned on you slightly, then, allowing you to feel the delicious burn in the backs of your thighs as he stretched you. He snapped his hips forward, causing you keen as he brushed up against that delicious, almost too much, spot inside of you. He breathed hard, sounds of both of your pleasure filling the space between you. 

The Mandalorian kept up a brutal but firm pace, intending on fucking you like this until you both came, and that's exactly what he did. He bent down, delivering a bite to your shoulder. Then another, and another. You cried out his name, hands winding into his hair and gripping tightly. 

He murmured against your skin, punctuating each sentence with a kiss or bite to your neck. “So perfect for me, mesh’la. Can you come for me? What do you need?” 

“Harder,” you hissed, back arching to press you closer to him. “Please!”

He readjusted, pulling his face away from your neck and shoulder. His hands tightened their grip on your thighs, pushing them closer to your chest. He pressed harder into you, hips heavy as they shifted back and forth. Your hands moved to his shoulders, digging your nails into him so hard you were sure there would be crescent shaped divots in his skin. 

No sound left you when your orgasm tore through you. Your eyes closed as your body shook in his grasp, tightening around him over and over as pleasure exploded out of your abdomen where his cock was dragging against your walls. A choked groan left the man, his body falling over yours as he found his climax with you, spilling into your womb.

Both of you held onto each other, shaking and breathing hard. Your legs fell apart and he pressed his forehead against yours. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, before sitting up to pull out of you. You felt your body jerk at the loss. 

You rolled onto your side, feeling the pleasant ache of a good love making session reverberate through your body. He came to lie beside you, tucking you close to him

His arms tightened around you.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

You smiled, drowsy and bashful. 

I will know you forever. 

[dockett]

Unexpected Constellations (Part 15)

Rating: M (18+, Minors DNI)

Word Count: 9K

Warnings: Foul language, Fluff oh my god so much fluff can you believe it, Smut, Angst if you squint

A/N: The end. AAAAAHHHH?! I started this fic in the depths of my illness and it's been with me as I navigated my way through a horrible horrible time in my life. But good god does it hold such a special place in my heart, especially as my first piece of proper fic writing. Thank you and I love you to all the people who have joined the journey along the way and left comments and support, you guys are the best. I might go cry now, but please keep an eye out for more of my work in the future! 🩶🤍 masterlist.

“Entering the Adega system.” 

The navicomputer’s sudden robotic timbre jolted you from where you sat, straddling Din’s lap in the open cockpit. Contrary to your behaviour, he barely even flinched, licking a stripe up your neck before kissing back down and pulling the strap of your top off one shoulder. Things were not going according to plan. How fortunate.

“We should… We’re going to be… there soon… we should—oh, stars.” Your head lolled back, granting him easier access; he took it greedily. One palm had a handful of your hip, the other scaled up your back to cradle your neck.

“Need you,” he grunted into your chest. Animalistic almost.

Oh, fuck. Yes. 

You fumbled with his belt as he unhooked the button on your trousers. There was no time to undress, to do anything past the minimum. But neither of you cared much in the moment. You had come into the flight deck to ask him if he wanted caf; what the hell had happened? Not that you could find it in yourself to complain, especially as you raised your weight just a fraction so he could tug your pants down, pull your panties to the side, line himself up easier and—

Your moan was embarrassingly loud and he—ever the strategist—tried to silence it with a sloppy kiss. He bottomed out, hitting something unfathomably deep inside you.

“Quiet.” His eyes were squeezed in concentration. “We can’t wake Grogu.” 

Shit, Grogu. He was still asleep in a closed pram, but of course the cockpit door didn’t shut. You would both have to be very quiet. But as Din drove his hips upward, unable to keep still, you realised it might be more of a challenge than you had bargained for.

He drew back down before thrusting again. “I don’t think… I can’t… Din!” He slapped a hand over your mouth then, and something about it was so hot that you clenched around him, hard. It was his turn to make too much noise.

It turned into a game of reckless abandon, Din’s movements sharp, the circle of your hips deliberate, a test to see who could keep it together. And you were both losing.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. He had reprimanded you for being too loud, but he wasn’t faring much better. You were pulsing around him, eyes rolling back, and he could feel your mouth agape under his hand. You had liked it when he covered your mouth, he had felt it. He wondered if you would also like his hand around your throat, your hands tied behind your back. He wondered just how dirty you could get.

The green circle of Ossus loomed closer in his periphery, but what really mattered was the way your body jerked with each drive of his cock. The choked whines that managed to escape his muffling. Din gripped you by the waist, practically pulling you down onto him.

He had wanted you to himself—just for a little bit—before Skywalker inevitably stole you away. It wouldn’t be forever, he hoped it wouldn’t be for very long at all, but any minute spent far from your side suddenly felt unbearable. He’d stay inside you forever if it meant you never left him.

‘Learn to be selfish sometimes, Djarin. It’s the one thing you’ll never regret.’ Maybe the man had a point because holy shit this was amazing. You were amazing.

He was getting sloppy, nearing that dangerous edge that seemed to come all too quickly when he was with you. And you opened your eyes, refocusing on him, as if you could feel it too. You looked fucked out, drunk, eyes hooded and so dark he could see his own reflection in them. He hoped Luke Sykwalker was a merciful man.

You both came at the same time, and he struck deep, turning his own moan into a gasping exhale instead. You whispered a quiet ‘Oh’ beneath his palm before succumbing to the tremors of your orgasm. 

Moments passed, and when he finally uncovered your mouth, he realised that you were laughing. Breathless and giggling. 

“What just happened? I came in to ask if you wanted caf.” And then you were collapsing again into a fit.

He chuckled with you, suddenly sheepish. “Sorry.”

“No. Don’t say sorry. That was… fuck.” Another shaky giggle. Stars, it was so good to see you laugh. He brushed a stray hair back from your face, trailed a thumb over your cheekbone and your features cleared, going soft. “What is it?” you asked, as if his thoughts were written in the creases between his brows. Maybe they were.

He whispered. “Don’t leave me.”

Your eyes widened, mouth parting. “What?” Hands cupped his face. So smooth against the roughness of his stubble. “I’m not… Din, I’m not leaving.” 

He said nothing, afraid his words might betray him.

Understanding passed over your face. “You thought I wanted to go to Ossus to ask him to train me?”

He couldn’t look you in the eyes. Because yes, that’s exactly what he had thought. You lifted his chin.

“He won’t.” You said it with such surety, as if anyone wouldn’t kill to keep you close. “And even if he would…” You were shaking your head. “…I have something much more important right here.”

It was dizzying, this relief. 

“I just need some guidance… a few questions answered. That’s all.” You leaned in to kiss him, sweet and innocent and far too chaste. “I would never leave you.” 

The two of you sat there for a moment, the Razor Crest gaining steadily on the planet, his cock softening inside you. Your presence so permeating that he forgot, just for a moment, that he actually had to land the ship.

Luke was waiting for you as the Crest touched down, dressed in immaculate black, as if he was expecting you. Grass swayed in the ship’s wake, but you had little time to focus on the flora. He captivated your attention immediately; your preparation having done absolutely nothing to assuage your anxiety. In addition, the wisdom that emanated from him only served to remind you of your own training, your inferiority. But Din was just behind you, and Grogu, squealing at the sight of him, launched his small body down the ramp.

“Well, it’s very good to see you too, Grogu,” Luke addressed the child before regarding you. Grogu had already busied himself with a passing butterfly, easily distracted. He extended a hand. “I was wondering when I would get to meet you.” You were hyperaware of the clamminess of your palms when he clasped yours in his own. However, he only offered a smile. You were a bit starstruck.

“Mandalorian.” He inclined his head in greeting towards Din. Din returned the gesture. “When I saw the ship circling, I thought perhaps Grogu had reason to return. But I sense that I was wrong.”

For hours you had pondered over what to say, picked apart the small meanings of each specific word, but suddenly it seemed your entire vocabulary had emptied from your mind. You started to speak and then trailed off, suddenly unsure of how to word your reasons for coming. What if he couldn’t help? Was this stupid? Were you stupid to come here?

“It’s all right. Conversation is only a formality, really. I know why you’re here. I can feel it.” You noticed the lightsaber hilt at his side, the way it caught the light. He seemed to track your gaze. “I’m not sure if I can be of much more help, but I’ll certainly try my best.”

You hadn’t expected him to be so… kind? Willing? Maker, what a relief. “Thank you.”

But Luke only motioned to the treed hills behind him. “Walk with me.” To Din he said, “There’s a lagoon just beyond those saplings. Grogu is well acquainted with the aquatic life there. We will rejoin you soon.” There was little room left for discussion. But still, before you parted ways you cast Din a heavy look, one you could tell he returned. It said don’t worry and I love you and I’ll be back soon. You could imagine his eyes under the visor, firm and yet understanding. You loved him so much that the force of it might cleave you in half.

He angled his helmet toward where Skywalker was already walking, a way of saying get going. And so you turned, rushing to keep up with him, noting the calm posture of hands clasped behind his back. And the way the impending forest seemed to part and whisper around him.

You ambled for quite a while, in silence through the greenery. The air of the planet smelled sweet, buzzing and alive, quite like Rishi. But more powerful.

“What do you feel?” Luke’s voice broke the quiet, soothing although sudden.

“Life.”

He seemed satisfied with the vague answer. “Good. That’s the Force. It resides in all living things, and you recognize it. That’s why you connect the way you do.”

“It’s strong.”

He nodded. “Yes. Ossus has a rich history with the Jedi. The power of it resides in the very soil of the planet. That’s why I chose to stay here. To teach.”

So much power. Such potential. But pure, uncorrupted, all of it.

“Something troubles you.”

You hummed at the ground. “It’s hard to explain.”

It was silly of you to think that he might resent you, cast you out. Because he stopped you in your path, a look of real comprehension on his face. “I can imagine.” Luke gestured to the side, a pile of flat rocks arranged in a circle. “It may be easier not to talk.”

Nerves gripped at you again, sending pins and needles down your legs. “I… I’m not trained in Jedi meditation—”

He had already lowered himself and crossed his legs atop one of the makeshift seats. “That’s alright, I will guide you. Sit.”

He seemed so sure. Momentarily, you were glad for his assertiveness. Especially as you fumbled for words and picked at your fingernails, fumbled with your beskar vambraces. You followed his direction, mimicking his own body language. 

“Don’t dwell on what you were taught before. Listen to my direction and don’t try to force it… it should come naturally.” Luke’s posture was commanding, and you found your own spine straightening in self-consciousness.

He had already closed his eyes, seemingly oblivious to your inner dialogue. “Let yourself drift. Feel the nature around you. The leaves… the way they move. The animals, the insects. Don’t worry about me; I’ll find you.”

Connecting with the planet was easy enough. You had done it before on Sorgan. Though you felt you were the clunky, uncoordinated counterpart to Luke’s polished and refined technique. When you meditated with Grogu, sometimes you could see things, images, memories that belonged to him. Was Luke going to be able to see those things? You suddenly found yourself racking your brain for moments of guilt, embarrassment, things you would rather he didn’t witness—

“Focus,” he reprimanded, a hint of humor beneath his words.

You shrunk a little, mumbling a quick sorry under your breath. Okay. Whatever. You were here for guidance, and it could only be effective if he understood what he was dealing with. Who he was dealing with.

The sun was peeking through holes in the forest canopy, dappling your skin and the surrounding bamboo shoots with glowing warmth. The flowers, hidden within tall grasses, seemed to rise on tiptoes towards its light. A fat insect swooped low over their vibrant colours before shooting up, up, up. You went with it, feeling the ground fall out from beneath you. In the distance there were shimmers of light off the reflection of a calm pond. Ripples disturbed its surface, caused by a devious little green hand… a shriek of delight. Behind it, a gruff voice, shining silver, weapons laid in a pile on the ground. Love. Oh, such love. I radiated from them, so strong that it seemed to emanate from all around. So strong that it emanated from you.

You felt the moment that Luke joined you, distantly aware of his consciousness. He beckoned to you, and you turned from the scene, toward something much more serious. It was as if he opened himself to you, willing you to imitate his own action. The connection was so strong that it caused your pupils to flicker beneath closed eyelids. His life passed in flashing images.

Endless sands of the Tatooine desert, Jawa Sandcrawlers, an astromech unit, black smoke from a scorching fire. A hooded figure, the blur of hyperspace stars, a loud and affectionate Wookie, the cozy interior of a rounded ship. A beautiful woman with long brown hair. Headstrong and fearless. The Cloud City, dazzling in shades of white and gold. Memories began to overlap, and you gasped both in shock and familiarity. The Death Star, its ghostly halls, a black cape sweeping over them. The sound of heavy boots. Lightsabers, blue, green, red, yellow eyes and cracking skin. Explosions. Death and sorrow and jubilation and fear and loss and learning. Grogu. No, that couldn’t be right. An older Grogu, wrinkled and hunched over in a house of mud and sticks. A planet of brilliant white snow. War and hate and redemption and love and family. The legends, the stories you had read about on the web, they were nothing compared to this. You could feel what he felt, the complication of it all. You were barely aware of the cool slide of tears down your cheeks. Your physical body felt a whole planetary system away. Months could have passed, and you would have been none the wiser. Some time later, there was a phantom hand on your shoulder, Luke’s voice steady behind you. 

“Come back.” 

You tried, but it was impossible. Like grasping at clouds. At dispersing smoke. Who were you in comparison to this vast existence? Irrelevance. No one. Nothing. 

“Use my memories. Find yourself.”

You floated through his consciousness like a wraith, searching desperately for a sense of belonging, pulling at threads on a tapestry. There was a particularly strong one down a darkened hallway, littered with fallen droids. They were felled by lightsaber strokes, the melted metal still glowing from the heat of the blade. Shouldn’t you be afraid? 

But you weren’t, not at all. Because somehow, impossibly, you knew that at the end of this hall was home.

The door of the ship’s bridge slid open smoothly and you saw the back of Luke’s cloak, the dirty blonde of his hair. But then he stepped to the side and looked at you—really looked at you. But you weren’t there. This was his memory. 

In that moment, you understood why you were drawn to it.

Helmet held at his side, Din held Grogu, the beginnings of silvery tears lining his beautiful eyes. “It’s time to go,” he said softly, and the child’s ears drooped. “Don’t be afraid.”

You opened your eyes, lashes clotted with tears of your own.

Luke was smiling at you faintly. “Interesting… that out of all my memories you would choose that one. That should answer your question, shouldn’t it?”

“My question?” 

“You could have chosen a memory of the Empire… of the Death Star… of Palpatine… but you didn’t. You shied away from fear or anger as a tether and moved towards love.”

Huh. It had seemed such an obvious choice that you hadn’t even bothered to frame it that way. “But, I thought that attachment was forbidden for the Jedi.”

Luke looked pensive. “It’s been written that way in the texts, but I’ve been giving it much thought lately.” 

“How do you mean?”

“Well…” He clasped his hands in his lap. “I don’t think it’s so black and white. I think the volatility of attachment is what made the Jedi implement the rule and enforce it so vehemently, but that doesn’t mean it’s innately bad.” Luke seemed lost in thought for another moment. “My father… attachment to my mother is what drove him to the dark side of the Force.”

Oh. You hadn’t known that.

“…But attachment to me is what brought him back.” He lifted a pebble from the ground, spinning it. “It’s a complicated concept.” Then, he laughed lightly to himself. “I can’t train you.”

“I figured you would say that. I didn’t come to ask to be trained.”

“I know.” He nodded. “But I want you to know all the same. It’s not because of what you were taught, or how you were taught it. It’s not even really about attachment either. It’s only because, in a matter of time, I would lose you for the same reason I lost Grogu.”

To Din.

“He seems to attract force sensitives,” Luke said, a handsome smile gracing his features.

You shook your head. “No… No, he just attracts trouble.”

“I can feel how much you love them, and how much they love you. Something like that… it’s rare.” He stood, extending a hand to help you up as well. 

You took it, knees aching. How long had you been sitting there? Hours maybe? The sun was much lower.

“I understand you have a crystal in your possession.”

“Yes, I do.” You were surprised by how little it bothered you now. 

Walking with you, Luke offered: “I could help you with it, if you’d like?”

“Yes. I would like that.”

The walk back through the forest was one of renewed peace, Luke’s insights having soothed some long-jagged edge inside you. You could hear Grogu’s voice echo through the treeline as you finally approached the Crest. How you longed to go to them.

“Your apprehension has waned,” Luke noted as you climbed the ramp. 

You nodded. 

“I only told you what you already knew. What your family has already made clear.”

“It helps to hear it from someone like you.” The storage compartment opened easily, and you found the box that Din had referenced, the same old wood, the same paranormal feel. Though it wasn’t nearly as intimidating anymore. You reached in to retrieve it, standing and turning back to Luke.

“Don’t doubt yourself. Internal conflict can lead you down a darker path. No one decides who you are… only you.”

His words reminded you of similar ones heard only days before. They think they know who I am, but they won’t give me the chance to show them who I want to be. A Twi’lek surrounded by swirling fabrics.

He led you to a rounded stone hut atop a steep hill. The interior was cool, simple. He sat once more and you followed, placing the box on the soft ground beneath you. You flipped the lid.

The red of the crystal was angry, the fissured lines etched into its surface somehow impossibly deeper. It seemed so at odds with the soft green of this planet. But nestled beside it was that small piece of piping, bent in at one end from where you had clutched it. Din must have pried it from your grasp while you were unconscious.

Luke smiled at it. “Thoughtful,” he mused. “It will be useful.” Fingers fluttering through air, he lifted the crystal, turning it in the dim light of the den. “Did you know that no crystal is naturally created red?”

No, you hadn’t known that.

“In the presence of a Sith, particularly a powerful one, it becomes corrupted… it bleeds. That is why the blade becomes scarlet. Sometimes, because of the unstable nature of it, the saber will flicker, whereas those of the Jedi are often still and calm.”

“What about D— The Mandalorian’s saber?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about the creation of the darksaber. I feel that is a story better told by the Mandalorians.”

The kyber crystal came to rest back in its box, and Luke rose to retrieve a bundle from across the room. Within it were a number of strange pieces of metal, each of varying shapes and sizes. 

“Your piece will make most of the hilt, but you will need a power cell… stabilizers… an activation lever. Pick what speaks to you; I will supply the rest.”

You moved—comfortably quiet—in tandem, similar to the arts and crafts you had done with the children on Sorgan. I made you want to laugh, comparing the creation of a weapon to such innocent fun. But before long, you had a line-up of materials in front of you, springs and screws and things you couldn’t even name, spaced out and flat on the ground. In the center of it all was the crystal, glowing faintly as if in anticipation.

“When you’re ready…” Luke began, “…close your eyes and connect. You’ll feel all the components around it, the way they interact. It will feel a bit like a puzzle.” He looked wistful. “All you have to do is solve it.”

He said it as if it was easy. Maybe it was. Didn’t you want to find out? 

Your eyes fluttered shut, and the room around you faded to black.

It was similar to the dream you had had of the crystal before, a sort of limbo. Except it didn’t speak to you anymore. It beckoned as always, but seemed to heave with effort, giving the impression of being sick or injured. When you reached out to it, it sighed. 

The parts of the saber came into focus, making an odd sort of mental sense. Like trying to chart a hyperspace lane, careful of obstructions and aware of where all the stars fell. Clicks and twists. Overtop of it all, the casing of metal pipe fit into place. Like it was made for this. The surface puckered and folded, and you let it do as it pleased. The was a final pop, a miniscule hiss, and the work was done. A bead of sweat was traveling its way down your brow.

Luke was assessing you with a look of satisfaction. “Very good.” You took in your creation.

Interesting and perhaps symbolic, that a piece of your captivity would be used for this. Reclaimed. It had bent itself into creases as if it had been squeezed.

“It’s quite unique. Representative of its owner.” He cast a glance behind you.

Was it? 

“Ignite it.”

The command had you looking at Luke. The nervousness must have been evident in your eyes because he nodded once in encouragement.

You felt around for the activation lever. Felt, because your eyes had squeezed themselves closed. Each heartbeat reverberated through your bones; each breath was too loud. There was no doubt anymore, no fear, and yet a kernel of hesitation still crawled its way into your stomach.

Fuck it. You had what you wanted. This wouldn’t change anything.

The blade hummed to life.

Its searing light burned the backs of your eyelids. 

Luke was silent. 

Oh, stars.

But when you finally gathered the courage to look, what you saw stunned you to silence as well. Parted your lips and somehow forced an exhale from already empty lungs. 

It was white. Pure white, like starlight.

“How is this even possible?”

Skywalker was smiling in a way you hadn’t yet witnessed. “I’ve seen it once before. With a close friend. A great warrior, and a good person.”

Unbelievable.

You swung it experimentally, low and then high, angled perpendicular above your forehead. It was lighter than Din’s and the handling was different. It moved in smooth arcs, cutting through the resistance of air. The crystal within felt sated; it hummed in synchronicity with the blade… contented purrs. You laughed, carefree and airy.

“You’ve been given this to protect and defend. Use it wisely.” You wished there were words to convey your level of gratitude to Luke. As you extinguished the blade, all you could do was thank him and assure him that you would.

A squeak of excitement sounded from the archway behind you. Din was there, a fascinated Grogu in his arms. 

You felt like a child, running into his arms. “Did you see that?” Someone needed to clarify that you weren’t just hallucinating.

He smoothed your brow, the child clawing at the folds of your clothing. “I never doubted you, cyar’ika.”

He hadn’t, had he? Since the beginning, since bringing you aboard the ship, in matters of life or death, even since learning the truth about your past. What a magical thing it was to have someone see all of you, every dark and twisted crevice, every scar you tried so hard to hide away, and still find such beauty in it.

Luke had to clear his throat. “I won’t keep you. But I would like to thank you for gathering up the courage to come here. I know it was not an easy feat.” He surveyed Din. Despite being much shorter, Luke stood with a poise that exuded power. “I know that I’m in no position to ask you for anything, but I will ask that you take good care of them. Such power attracts attention… and danger. I hate to refer to your family as such, but in the eyes of many… they are weapons. It is imperative that they stay protected.”

“I’d sooner fall on my own blade then let anything happen to them.”

Luke’s seemed to share an unspoken thought with Din. “I know.”

Something about the way he said it was unnerving. Because you knew he meant every word.

The place Din had picked was shrouded in darkness by the time the Crest landed. Miles away from the closest tourist spot, it was secluded and quiet. Breathtakingly beautiful.

A sprawling lake sparkled with bright moonlight, stretching far into the distance, where it was lined by tall trees of the lushest green. The ship’s ramp descended just a few metres from the shoreline, soft sand and small pebbles that shifted with the light lapping of the water. Aside from the comforting noises of nature and the small ticks of the cooling Crest, all was quiet.

Grogu had drifted off hours ago and would likely sleep until morning. Din had tucked him in to the pram with gentle movements, smoothing the small bit of hair that was starting to appear on the top of his head. Such tender care. He was a good father. Though he’d likely never admit it.

“You’re staring,” he remarked as he closed the pram lid.

“Am I not allowed to?” You rose from where you leaned against the ladder, saber hilt hitting your thigh. Its weight would take some getting used to. “You get to see me all the time. I have to look at you far longer to read you beneath all the armour. It’s hardly fair.”

He motioned to the open ramp and the world that waited beyond it. “You want to even the playing field?” Din offered you his arm.

The night was clear and the air was warm, alive with a breeze that felt almost like a caress. There was no need for a fire, and so you sat on the sand, bare feet flirting with the fresh water of the lake. Din had removed his helmet, and you had helped him with the armour plates so he could lay back on the sandbank, stretching out, arms beneath his head.

“The stars look different from here,” he mused. You took in his features, bathed in cool light, and the sparkle of constellations in his eyes.

“How so?”

He dragged an arm through the sand and around your waist, pulling you down and into his side. Took your chin between his fingers and tilted it toward the sky. “Look.” 

Colours bled like a watercolour painting across the dark night, the auras of each star so bright that it reminded you fleetingly of the halo of your lightsaber blade. A rippling curtain of turquoise green floated from horizon to horizon, ghostlike in its movements.

“Woah.” You couldn’t help the breathless exclamation, the laugh, and the smile that it left behind. Never before had you seen anything like it. It was stunning. 

Naboo was everything you had hoped it would be. Otherworldly allure. A sanctuary in the midst of a dangerous galaxy. Somewhere the three of you could come to just relax for a moment. Be no one beyond yourselves. No responsibilities, no judgements.  

The wave of heartache was unavoidable. “He would have loved this.” Your father. Who talked of coming here over and over and over. An unreachable dream encased in four walls of dark durasteel. Who talked of wishes and magic and fairy tales of brave knights in impenetrable armour. He had been right about so many things. “I think he would have loved you.”

Din turned his eyes away from the sky, his shaky breath unmissable. “I wish I could have met him.” He pressed a kiss to your hair. “…thanked him for raising such a strong woman… wish I could tell him that I’ll take care of you now.”

Simple words… but a galaxy of meaning.

“I’ll take care of you,” he murmured again. 

Din kissed you, and it felt like a thousand words melded into one moment. Breaths mingled, hand wandered. There was sand in his hair, and probably in yours too. Once you broke away you said just that, brain short-circuiting.

He said it was easy enough to wash out. He wasn’t referring to the fresher.

“You’re kidding.”

“Am I?” His smiled turned to a stupid grin. “Want to go swimming?”

Drunk on him, you agreed. How would he feel in the cool stillness of the water? You wanted to find out. Stars, he was unbuttoning your shirt with talented fingers and your mind was going a pleasant sort of fuzzy. He pushed the sleeves off of your shoulders. Threw your top to the side. Unhooked your saber hilt. Dove into the soft part of your neck. 

“Not sure if your father would have approved of this,” he mumbled into your shoulder and you giggled, giggled, like a little girl. His hands were hot on your bare skin, sliding down to the waistband of your pants. You hadn’t even started on his flight suit yet.

“I do want to go swimming,” you admitted to him. “You’re distracting me.”

He continued his ministrations. “Focus then.”

Fine. His zipper slid down with little resistance. Every time you undressed him it felt so thrilling, erotic. A memory floated back, Omera’s whispered words on Sorgan, like some forbidden secret. 

‘He’s so hot.’

You had found such a sentiment silly at the time, especially in the face of such violent conflict. But even then—just a little, maybe a lot—you had agreed with her. And even more so now. He was.

Din had managed to work your trousers down just as you slid the top of his suit off. He was smiling at you, cheekily before standing, shucking the rest of it off and offering you a hand.

The water was cold. Not enough to change your mind about going in, but certainly enough to elicit a sharp squeal. Din seemed unfazed, wading a distance in before diving under the surface. 

“It’s nice,” he said upon emerging. Appalled, you could only gape at him. “Come on.” He splashed you once and you sent a loathing glare back. One which he only laughed at. “I’ll pull you in…”

“You wouldn’t dare.” You sent a flicker of Force outward, enough to make your eyes glow, just for theatrical effect.

Din smiled, wading up the shore to where you stood, dripping lake water. “I’m not scared of you.” He looked like a god.

When he lunged for you, you let him.

The water felt like sharp, cold silk. You were gasping down gulps of air to overcome the shock and he held you through it, chuckling lightly at your dramaticism. “See?” But after a few short-lived seconds of crisp panic, you began to adjust and found that—temperature aside—he was right. Though the night was dark, the moonlight only just enough to highlight the chiseled angles of Din’s face, you could feel that the water was clear. Fresh and glassy. But you weren’t letting the sudden assault go so easily. You splashed at him playfully and watched the water drip down the muscle of his jaw. The way he looked at you… it might as well have been a kiss.

It was your first time swimming, or at least fully submerged in water that wasn’t a tank. What a marvel, the way it made your body feel so light. You hadn’t even considered to be afraid of the lake, not with Din right beside you. “I’ve never done this before,” you confessed, suddenly giddy.

Din placed a hand under your back, tipping your legs up. “Watch this.” You were falling onto your back in slow motion, the water and Din’s arms supporting you to stay above the surface. As the sky became visible you realized that you were floating… like an idle ship in space. Suspended in midair, water tickling at your sides. You laughed, eyes full of multicoloured stars. Such a wonderful feeling. “They should make bacta tanks like this.”

You didn’t have to look at him to tell that he was smiling. Grinning. Again, that whispered utterance of Mando’a syllables that was becoming increasingly familiar yet still remained a mystery.

Curiosity got the best of you. Without looking him in the eyes, you dared to ask, “What does that mean?”

He didn’t hesitate. “It means beautiful… means you’re beautiful.” 

“Will you teach me?”

“Mando’a, or how to swim?”

“Both?”

“Of course.” He was supporting you lightly by the waist. “How about I teach you one right now.”

You smiled at the night sky. “Okay.”

“Close your eyes. Listen to the way the words sound.” His mouth was by your ear then, and the phrase he uttered sent goosebumps along your skin. 

“It sounds familiar.”

“That’s because I’ve said it to you once before.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means I love you. Literally, it means I will know you forever.” His fingertips tapped along the length of your spine, under the water. He was barely even touching you anymore and yet you were still afloat in serene stillness. 

You tried it out, tongue stumbling over some of the pronunciation. Despite what was probably a butchery of the sentence, Din leaned over your floating figure to press his lips to your forehead.

“I love you.” You righted yourself, moving closer to him. “I love swimming… I love the water.”

“I wanted to fuck you in that pool on Rishi,” he admitted.

Oh. Holy shit.

“I spent way too long in there thinking eventually you’d say ‘to hell with it’ and come and join me.” His hands were frictionless under the surface, sliding up your thighs. “Rishi was torture. Your fucking shirt, your hair…”

You thought back to it, the stifling weather, the meeting with Castann, the way he had fallen so sternly silent afterwards. Ah. “That’s why you were so quiet. In the cantina… you were jealous.” Your words had held a hint of humor, but when he dragged his eyes up to yours there was only dark seriousness there.

You softened. “Oh, Din.” The water rippled as he adjusted his hold on you, bringing your bodies impossibly closer.

“It wasn’t anything that you did, just…” He paused, and you brushed a wet curl back from his face. “…with him, with the Marshall, there’ve been others too… I could never touch you the way they could, I couldn’t connect with you that way. It just frustrated me.”

“That’s not true.” The sparkling glare off the lake lit up his skin, the broadness of his shoulders. “I didn’t need to touch you or kiss you to know how I felt. Maker knows I wanted to, but that wasn’t what did it. It was just you.”

“And if I couldn’t have given you anything more?” There was such vulnerability in his voice. In the question.

You cupped his face, drops of water falling from your wrists to his collarbones. “You’re enough. You’re so much more than enough.” When you kissed him, you could have sworn that a tear mixed with the lake water running down his face.

It was sweet. Sweet and soft and lazy and he smelled like the trees. You felt weightless in the water, cocooned in his arms and the warmth of his body heat. He took his time against your mouth, moving like the soft ripples of the lake before nipping lightly at your bottom lip. Hiking your legs up to wind around his hips.

It felt like fireworks every time he touched you. Like you had dared to move too close to a flame and caught alight. But you would be happy to burn like this. The water didn’t feel cold anymore.

“Can I?”

You nodded. He always asked. As if he expected the answer to suddenly change.

Din unclasped your wet undershirt with deft fingers, throwing it as far as he could onto the sandy shore. Your chest rose and fell against his own, lake water swirling in the space between.

You felt surreal under his palms. Powerful and alive and thrumming with energy. He wanted to make this good, really good. It was something he had discovered with you recently and was still learning to take advantage of. It drove him crazy to make you feel good. He had to see it, to hear your moans, to soak up your praises shamelessly. Stars, it made him hard.

And he was starting to learn what you liked. But there was such opportunity, so many doors he had yet to open. He couldn’t fucking wait. You were kissing along his jawline and he was trying to remember all the things he wanted to try but dank farrik it was difficult especially since he was kind of still staring at the way water trickled down the valley between your bare breasts.

“Stop thinking so hard,” you whispered against his neck. So you could read minds. “Just let go.” Your hands were roaming over his pecs, and he was forgetting which way was up and which way was down because the sky was reflected so perfectly in the water’s surface and all he could feel was you.

He strode up the sandbank, out of the water, the chill of the breeze making you shudder as you clung to him and lay you down on your pile of discarded clothes. Your skin was glistening and on impulse alone he licked up the center of your chest, tasting saltwater and desire. Gasping, you lifted your hips up, searching desperately for some sort of friction. Needy, always.

Din went to pull at your underwear, but the water had stuck them to you like a second skin. Usually he could take his time, but right now… 

He reached for his weapons belt, withdrawing the blade. Watched your eyes widen. Not with fear, though. Shit. He slid the edge under the fabric at your hip and sliced—hearing it come away with a clean rip. You hissed, arching needily toward the blade’s edge.

“Careful,” he chided.

Your eyes had darkened. “I trust you.” Oh, you liked it. You fucking liked it.

“Do you?” He was going to combust. Because as he pressed the flat length of the blade to your neck, you bared it to him. “You know I would never hurt you.”

“Not unless I asked you to?” The innocent tone of the question made his cock twitch. For just a moment, he was robbed of the ability to speak. “Or not unless I begged you to,” you urged him. Buffering, reloading, knife still at your neck. 

“Come on, Mando.”

Mando. You lay your hand over his own, tilting the angle of the blade until its sharpest edge rested over your skin. You were breathing heavy, but he was breathing heavier. You arched further into him, a desperate sound escaping you, and something in him snapped.

He had your hips pinned in an instant, trailing the knife over the rise and fall of your chest and down, down, down, through your breasts, past your navel and back to where your underwear sat, half torn off your body. “This what you want?” He cut the fabric around your other hip and pulled the ruined garment free. You gasped. “I was going to be gentle tonight.” Farrik, he could see the sheen of your arousal and it was making some primal part of him go a little feral. 

Your hands were wandering, grasping aimlessly at him. But a hunter’s instinct had taken over, a strange combination of a need to capture with a desire to please. He had your wrists trapped in one palm, winding the wet material of your panties around them, and tying them off before raising them up above your head. There was a rock to the side of him and he retrieved it, placing it in between your hands, over the knot of your bindings digging into the sand. It would hold if you didn’t strain too hard. He pulled back once the work was done just to look at you, completely bare before him, writhing and completely at his mercy. And stars, he was focused. So hyperaware. On the clench of your trapped fists, the peaks of your nipples, the softness of your skin, the way your scars seemed to glow in the light, the way your thighs clenched together.

“You want me to fuck you, pretty girl?” A broad palm travelled up from your waist to cup your breast. He rolled a nipple between his fingers and watched the way you panted. Would you like it if he put his mouth there?

You did like it. You liked it a lot. 

“Oh. Fuck.” Your moans were music to his ears, and he alternated sides, keen to keep them going.

“I should tie you up like a bounty…” He was blabbering, almost incoherent, drunk off the feel of you. “…let you loose in the forest and hunt you down. Would you like that?” Judging by the mess he found between your legs, he figured the answer was yes. “Lucky for you, I’m not feeling very patient.”

You choked when he slid two fingers inside of you. How fast could he make you come? He was getting awfully good at it. The movements of his hand were sharp, deliberate, the heel of his palm brushing up against your clit with each repetition. You started to tug at your makeshift binding but it held, mercifully. You were getting loud, trying to muffle the pleasured cries in the flesh of your shoulder. Oh, this was fucking addicting.

Sliding his free hand up your torso, he tested a flex of his fingers around your throat and felt you tighten around him in response. “You’re mine.” Tighter. “Only mine.” Faster. You were seconds away, bucking your hips up into his hand, chanting in agreement.

“I’m yours. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.” Din slid his hands free at the last moment. “No.” It felt evil to laugh at your groan of anguish, but he couldn’t help it.

Your hands had come free, but it didn’t matter. He flipped you by your waist to lay on your stomach, arching your hips up and flattening himself over your spine. Reaching down to line himself up and pausing… just long enough for you let out another desperate whine. “Didn’t you say something about begging?”

You pushed your ass back against him and he almost lost it. Almost. But you were just as stubborn, refusing to give him the satisfaction. That wouldn’t do. “Beg me, cyare.”

You caved so easily that it broke his character, made him smile. “Please… Din please.”

“Please what?”

“Please, fuck me. Please.”

“My wife. So polite.” He pushed in, all the way, in one powerful motion, stealing the air from both of your lungs. It’s like you were made for him, greedily taking everything he was willing to give. He was punching sobs out of you with each thrust and your bound hands were grasping for purchase on the beach, handfuls of wet sand. “Never going to get enough of you.”

Din snaked both hands around your body, one up to circle around your neck and one down, past your stomach where he could feel the blunt head of him poking through, all the way to your clit. The vibrations in your throat traveled through his palm as you moaned and cried out, and each circle of his fingers had you clenching down on him, so tight that the pleasure was burning hot.

He had used to fist his own dick thinking of taking you from behind, yet his imagination had done it no justice. Every arch of your spine, every tremble, every kriffing pulse of your cunt had him reeling, desperately trying to keep a hold on the brutal pace he had set. He wanted to mold you to the shape of him, selfishly, so that you fit him—and only him—for the rest of time. Imprint his name down your spine, leave purple marks on your neck that would last for days. This sort of love was brutal, possessive, like a wild animal. Oh, he wanted you to be able to feel the ghost of him between your legs when you walked.

You met him, thrust for thrust, mumbling words between every sharp breath. “Feels… so… fucking… good…” It felt better than good. It was the most blinding sensation he had ever experienced. “So… close… don’t stop.” He could tell. From the way every muscle in you was tensing, from the way you were gripping him. And thank the stars for it because he certainly wasn’t going to last much longer. “Want you to… come inside and… watch it leak out… then… fuck it back… into me.”

Din collapsed, spilling into you with a low groan. It felt never ending, wave after wave after wave and just as he thought he was coming down, you clamped down on him like a vise, whimpering and shuddering through your own orgasm and only prolonging his own. It was all he could do to prop his weight up and keep from crushing you.

For a long moment, the only sound was lapping water and the uneven heaves of breath as you both fought to recover. He released your neck, watched your head slump forward, trailed a palm over the dips in your back. Did as you asked, leaned back and watched pearls of his own come drip into the sand. With two fingers he swiped up the excess and pushed it back into you, soaking up your weakened whimper like music.

“You okay?” Because he had been hard, unforgiving. If he had hurt you…

“Am I oka—” You huffed an exhausted laugh. Din flipped you over onto your back and drank in the disarray of your hair, the softness of your eyes, the satisfied smile. “That was… wow.” You lifted your hands to him, bashfully. “Can you untie me?”

It was his turn to laugh as he reached for the panties around your wrists, still damp and now coated with sand. You were watching him as he worked, eyes trailing from his face down his chest and stomach, lower. He stared back and you looked away sharply, as if you had been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Adorable.

“Don’t get shy on me.” The knot on your wrists came free.

“M’not.”

He leaned down to whisper at your ear. “Especially not after you told me to fuck my c—”

“Okay!” You slapped him playfully on the chest. He liked to tease you, if only to see you flustered and melting. Din was suddenly overcome by the urge to hold you. And in doing so, was struck dumb just by the fact that he could.

Under the stars, in the sand, between a copse of trees and the expanse of lake, you curled into each other.

“I might fall asleep,” you warned.

He traced the vertebrae of your spine with a fingertip. “I can carry you.”

“Kay.” When your lips met his shoulder, he smiled. “Do you think Grogu will want to swim? Tomorrow?”

The idea was laughable. “He’d probably much prefer to terrorize the tadpoles.”

“Poor things.”

You stayed along that lake for 5 days, adventuring and playing with the kid during the day and fucking like wild creatures at night. One evening, skin still slick with sweat from riding him for what had felt like hours, you asked what he wanted to do next. Never before had the galaxy felt so open, so full of possibility. And never before had you had someone to explore it with. A family.

“We need to visit the covert. Thank the Armourer and…” Din trailed off.

“You want to go back to Mandalore.” He had spoken of a plan to redeem himself, to rediscover the mines below his people’s home world. You refrained from recalling what the Imp had said, he did too. But the curiosity, the need to know, it was palpable. 

His fingers threaded through your hair. “Only if you’re okay with it.”

“Of course. I know it’s important to you and I want to help. In any way that I can.” 

Din struggled to ask you for help, or for favours, and that was something that only got slightly better over time. But you were by his side anyways, as he wielded the darksaber as a symbol, united long-estranged factions of Mandalorians, and eventually retook the planet.

It hadn’t been easy; in fact, it had been terrifying. Moments when you had been separated were torturous, so much more frightening because now you knew the depth of what you stood to lose. But against all odds, and yet another run-in with the Empire, you and Din and Grogu had mercifully made it out unscathed. 

Victorious and now hidden away on a small parcel of land just outside of Nevarro City, a generous gift from Greef Karga. Or rather, a piece offering after Din threatened to kill him for sending you into the jaws of your captor. He had claimed to have no knowledge of the supposed ‘buyer’ and you believed him. But Din had not been so quick to forgive.

The Clan Mudhorn cabin was a quaint place, small, but somehow the perfect size for your peculiar little family. There were frogs for Grogu to play with, and the sun rose and set every day. And thank the maker, there was finally a proper bed. Just the one, but the three of you had made it work. A hammock had been fashioned just beside the kitchen for Grogu to sleep in, though more often than not, you would wake to find him snoozing happily between you and Din. On those nights, neither of you would have the heart to move him back.

It was so easy to fall into domesticity with them; to hide away the weapons for a time and just be. But the past was not so easily forgotten. And the future was imminent.

You woke from the dream with a choking sob, hand covering your mouth on instinct to keep from waking them. But it was too late. Din brushed a lock of hair back from your face, brown eyes concerned. “I thought they were getting better.” You hadn’t found your voice just yet. “It’s okay, take deep breaths.” He breathed with you until the muscles in your body slowly started to release. “That’s it. Good girl.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Shh. Don’t apologize.” Having his arms around you was easing the lingering panic better than any medicine. “You want to talk about it? One of the usuals?”

The usuals referred to dreams of captivity, of your father’s death, of the buried traumatic memories associated with your upbringing. But this… this had been different. It came trickling back in bits and pieces.

“No, I… I saw Skywalker. But he was older, much older.” How strange. “His hair was turning grey. There was a boy, young, with raven black hair.” Din was rubbing comforting circles on your curved spine. “I don’t understand, it was all just disjointed images.” But you knew what had roused you from the dream with such urgency. 

The master needs an apprentice.

Din knew better than to discount your visons. Even so, part of you wished he would. Wished he would tell you it was just a dream and to go back to sleep.

“You’re safe. We’re here.” As if he sensed himself being referred to, Grogu’s green claws fought their way up the bedspread. “We can stay up if—”

“No, no, it’s alright. It’s probably nothing.” Din’s eyes looked sad. “Just… can you… hold me?”

“Come here.” He pulled you down and tucked your head under his chin, arms winding securely around your back. The child managed to wriggle his way under Din’s elbow, collapsing with a satisfied sight between your chests. You kissed him on the head.

An ex-Sith, a Mandalorian, and a very small, basically Jedi. The stars must have a sense of humour. But perhaps they were also merciful. You clung to that hope, almost as hard as you clung to Din, Grogu sandwiched between the two of you.

The galaxy was loud, but Nevarro was quiet. People were suffering but now, for this fleeting moment you could be ignorantly happy. 

In your secluded constellation, safe from the rest of the supernovas, you could breathe and succumb once more to a peaceful slumber. If only for just a while longer.

THE END

thank you for reading ❤️‍🩹

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I added some tags that slipped through the cracks too (totally my bad)

[dockett]

She Covers Up My Ears II Din Djarin x Reader

Born to Beg For You: non-linear one shots. The Mandalorian helps a slave. Summary: taking charge was intimidating, but nothing you couldn't handle.

Warnings: minors dni, 18+! Smut, oral m!receiving, unprotected p in v, fingering f!receiving.

Word Count: 1.3k

Your hands slid over his back, working his body underneath your deft palms. 

You had given weekly massages to Tamar, and while anything having to do with the mechanic left you with a bad taste in your mouth, you were eager to help the Mandalorian. You spread your palms over his skin, focused intently on the task at hand.

Even in the dark, you felt your way around every knot of tension in Din’s body, relaxing his muscles with your technique. He didn't make a sound as he laid under you. 

You worked for a long while, feeling his body loosen gradually. You stopped when you felt him totally slacken, wondering if he had fallen asleep. You raised yourself up onto your knees and he shifted under you.

He lifted his upper body, flipping himself over under you. His hands settled on your thighs as he sat up. Your arms wrapped around him, one hand on the back of his head and the other around his shoulders. Open mouth kisses trailed up your neck, making your head loll to the side. 

He hummed when you finally let out a soft moan, his teeth nipping at your jawline. Your fingers curled into his hair, pulling him away with a gentle hand. 

“I want to try something,” you whispered to him. 

“What's that?” He replied. 

You pressed your forehead to his. “I want to be in charge.”

“Hm.”

You moved, nuzzling your nose along his jaw, pressing a gentle kiss to his skin. “Only if you want.” Another kiss. “But I think it would be fun.” One more.

He exhaled, soft and short. He was thinking it over. 

His hands moved over your body again, pressing the side of his head to yours. “Okay.”

You smiled, delighted and excited. You pressed him down to the bed, hands trailing over his muscled body, and then you followed your hands with your lips. 

You took his nipple in your mouth, feeling him squirm under you. He groaned when your tongue licked across his skin, hands digging into you tightly. You reveled in how sensitive he was—how reactive—and you felt wetness pool between your thighs.  You released his nipple with a ‘pop!’

You grabbed onto his wrists after moving your hands down his arms, bringing them up above his head. “Keep them there,” you demanded. You could hear him swallow in response. 

You swept down his body then with your mouth, placing hot open kisses across his skin. His body shuddered under you, but you didn't feel his hands touch you again, not even when you gripped him in your hand, feeling the soft skin in your palm. He hissed quietly. 

You took him in your mouth, feeling the weight on your tongue. His body jerked under you, just slightly, and you got to work, sealing your lips around his cock and working your head up and down in time with your hand. 

Moving up and down left your jaw aching, but you didn't want to stop. You pulled off, licking around the ridge of his head. His breath hitched, and you smiled, returning to your previous position. You slid your other hand up, touching across his stomach. 

“Senaar,” he whispered. “You're teasing me.”

Finally, you pulled away, saliva dripping from your lips, and you rolled to the side, taking off your underwear before straddling him. He was breathing hard, his pulse beating fast under your fingers as you placed your hand on his neck. He groaned, loud and unsanctimonious, his head turning to the side. You leaned forward, kissing his forehead before settling yourself over him. 

“I guess,” you replied. “You have been good for me.”

Positioning him at the entrance of your pussy, you slid him inside of you, both of you crying out. You slowly eased onto him, feeling the delicious stretch as he filled you up. You rolled your hips forward, and then back, and forward again. 

“Please,” he choked out. “Let-let me touch you, senaar. Let me feel you. Please.”

You contemplated his request, the sound of him begging for you too much to handle. You reached to grab his hands in yours, guiding one to your breast and the other to your hip. Din grabbed onto you with purpose, beginning to knead your skin. He breathed hard, each push and pull of your hips making him grunt and groan. You matched his breathing, eyes closed as you worked. 

You kept up a quick and rough pace, his hips arching up to meet each of your thrusts. Words began to fall from his lips, soft words in Mando'a. His hand at your breast fell to your other hip, where he helped guide you back and forth. 

Hot to the touch, one of your hands spread over his chest as you bounced your hips, the other squeezing his neck gently. He keened, back arching off the bed at your touch. 

“Fuck… I can't-can't—” 

“Can't what?” You asked, leaning down to nibble on his earlobe. He groaned in your ear, hands tightening on your hips hard enough you knew it might bruise. His hips snapped up into you and he threw his head back.

Through gritted teeth he said, “You're going to make me cum, mesh’la.” 

You hummed, keeping up your brutal pace. “Go on.” You were eager. “Fill me up.”

He groaned, and with a few more thrusts from both of you, he pushed you down onto him as he pressed himself deep inside of you. He came so hard he shook under you, his head tossing back and forth. Hardly any sound came from the man, so overwhelmed with the force of his orgasm he couldn't hardly even breathe. 

You slowed down, deliberate and slow rocks until he squeezed your hips—a silent plea to stop. You did so immediately, kissing across his jaw. It took him awhile to speak and when he did, there was concern in his voice. 

“You… you didn't…”

You shook your head, kissing up to his lips. You could feel him frowning. “It's alright,” you replied. “I really enjoyed that.”

“Let me help you,” he said, and then without warning rolled the both of you. You moaned at the feeling of emptiness as he pulled out of you. You landed on your back, hands by your head. His fingers were deft and quick, sliding up over your thigh before pushing through your folds to find your entrance as he sat between your legs. 

His mouth took to your nipple, pulling and sucking as two thick fingers slid inside you. You gasped, back arching towards him. His other arm tucked under you, keeping you pressed close to him. 

“Ner senaar’ika,” he growled. “Kandosii’la.” 

You moaned in response, feeling his fingers curl inside of you before setting a rhythm: in, out, in, curl, out, repeat. His thumb flicked over your clit, causing your legs to close around him. He hummed in delight at your reaction. Your hands came to grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin in the darkness. 

“Din, fuck—” you groaned. His lips released your nipple, kissing across to lick the other one. He murmured something you didn't quite catch, whispered and sacred against your skin. You squirmed under him, eyes slamming closed as you felt everything begin to tighten. 

He licked up across your sternum, giving your collarbones brief nips with his teeth before nuzzling along your jaw with his nose. Your body jerked once more, and with a skillful push of his fingers and press of his thumb, you unraveled. 

Your head pounded with the intensity of your orgasm, a harsh cry spilling from your lips as you grabbed onto him even tighter. He moaned with you, working you through with your hand, before finally slowing to a stop when it became too much and you tried to scramble away. 

Colors flashed behind your eyes as he pulled out of you, gently laying you back against the bed. He sighed as he settled down beside you, hand settled on your abdomen. 

You rolled your head to his shoulder, cheek against his skin. “Thank you,” you murmured. “For trusting me.” 

“Thank you for being someone I can trust,” he replied. “Get some rest, senaar.” 

[dockett]

Honestly got too nervous about it so hopefully it will be posted soon

Watch out tomorrow! Might post another Din one shot ;)

[dockett]

Watch out tomorrow! Might post another Din one shot ;)

[dockett]

The Fourth Step - Chapter Thirty-Five

Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (not this chapter but series as a whole)

Word Count: 3500

Warnings, etc.: a smidge of angst, a sprinkling of banter, and a sickening amount of fluffy feels #sorrynotsorry

Notes: I don’t even know what to say. This can be considered the penultimate chapter of this fic, even though the story’s not quite done yet. But everything has been building to this step for our bbys, and I hope I’m doing them justice.

We’re definitely in AU territory with this chapter, since Mando S2, TBOBF and S3 wouldn’t have rolled out the way they did if Din had come to this point in his relationship with his creed. Again, I hope I’m doing right by his character, and giving him the arc he deserves.

Mando’a translations at the end of the chapter.

Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.

Soft.

Your muscles are loose and languid, heavy, pressing into the yielding surface under your body. 

Warm. 

Soothing heat radiates from beside you, frissons sweeping through your chest from the comforting weight on the middle of your back.

Safe. 

Familiar scents and sounds drift through your sleep-dulled senses, reinforcing that subconscious recognition of the steady presence at your side, one that will protect you and defend you from any and all harm. 

Din. 

Your heartbeat flutters as sleep slips away, smile automatically curving your lips against the edge of the blanket. 

One by one, those vague impressions that pulled you into the waking world form into physical sensations - the well-known noises and smells of the Razor Crest, the mattress under you as you lay on your stomach, the tall, broad body stretched out next to yours, the large hand resting flat on your back. 

The even and sure breath of the man beside you, quickened enough to tell you he’s already awake. 

You blink open your eyes to the dark night cycle of the hold, peer in his direction. “Din? Are you ok?”

His hand on your back flexes slightly, smoothing up over your nightshirt to rest between your shoulderblades. “I’m fine, cyar’ika.”

There’s some kind of emotion in his voice you can’t identify, and concern twinges behind your ribs. You shift closer, turning onto your side, reaching a hand out to him to find him facing you, spread your fingers over his chest. 

His heartbeat thuds under your palm, faster than usual, and that twinge grows tight around your own heart. “Can’t sleep?”

His chest moves with a heavy breath, not quite a sigh. “I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?” You stroke your thumb in small, soothing circles over his underlayer. 

“My Creed.”

The last dregs of sleep whisk away as an anxious tension stills your movements. Taking a steadying breath, you keep your voice light, unassuming. “Heavy thoughts for so late at night.”

This time he does sigh, his hand on your back pressing lightly as he shifts closer to you. “Almost morning. Day cycle starts in about an hour.”

He matches your tone, but it doesn’t stop the anxiety from finally bubbling up, looking to reassure him. “I meant what I said, Din. I love you, all of you. I respect your Creed, and the oath you swore.”

A pause, his heartbeat races against your palm. The tension thickens, your own chest grows tight, what is wrong -

His voice is so soft you can barely hear it over the rush of your pulse in your ears. 

“I broke my oath when I took my helmet off that first night on Nevarro.”

You’re staring at him, eyes wide, even though you can’t see him. “What?”

“The Creed doesn’t allow for darkness or blindfolds. If you remove your helmet or if it’s removed for you in the presence of others, you are considered no longer Mandalorian.”

Why had - 

No -

You can’t -

Guilt crashes into you with a force that almost punches a whimper from your throat, caught at the last second and trapped behind clenched teeth. 

It’s your fault. 

You came into his life and he betrayed his people -

His hand on your face brings you back to the moment, stalls your spiral. He cups your cheek, tilting your head up so he can press a kiss to your forehead, words falling over skin too warm with emotion. 

“It’s not your fault. I made the choice. And I would do it again, with no hesitation.”

You squeeze your eyes tight, force the guilt back so his words can sink in, calming. 

A breath, another, and anxiety still laps at the edges of your awareness, but at bay for now. 

Swallowing against a dry throat, you gently pat his chest once, a wordless reassurance that you’re alright. 

He kisses your forehead again, pulling back a little so you can hear him clearly, speaking with resolute confidence, words obviously repeated and examined for any flaw, any hesitance or uncertainty, and determined to be only truth. 

“I gave my people everything I am. My name, my identity, my self - I stopped being Din Djarin when I swore the Creed. In their eyes, I became Mandalorian. Something of value.”

A sort of bitterness turns his voice down at the end, tingeing the soft words, bleeding into them. “But remove my helmet, take off the mask, and they no longer consider me one of them. They only see me as Mandalorian, or not.”

Your hand flexes on his chest instinctively, wanting to take away that bitterness and soothe the source of it, words on the tip of your tongue but you bite them back, let him continue, sensing he needs to finish what he wants to say. 

“I’ve thought about what it means to be a Mandalorian. And what it means to be a man.” A pause, his chest rises under your palm. “I think they are the same, in many ways. Both should care for the ones they love and try to protect them from harm. Support those who support them. Live with honour and respect for others.”

He sighs, a sound heavy and soft at the same time, weighted with regret. “But my people don’t believe that. They would have me be one or the other. Mandalorian or man.”

You can���t stop the whimper this time, tiny and hushed but slipping out all the same. The frustration - pain - that he has suffered, trying to be what his people want him to be, denying parts of himself in an effort to fit into the rigid mold they made for him…

He obviously hears your muffled sound, lips brushing your skin in reassurance. “I know now in my heart I am both. I am a Mandalorian. I am Din Djarin. And you see me, tionas. A Mandalorian, and a man.”

Another kind of emotion grips your heart tight, pushes you deeper into his embrace, fingers curling into the cloth of his underlayer as if you could pull him close enough to take him into you, take away his pain. “I see all of you, my love.”

His heartbeat throbs against your hand, breath catches in his chest. “Not all. Not yet.”

Then he’s moving, pulling away from you and there’s a rustle of motion beside the bed and you sit up in surprise, almost reaching out to stop him. 

What happened -

Why -

The lights flick on, blinding. 

Pfassk. 

You clap your hands over your eyes, panic surging hot up the back of your throat. “What - wait, I’ll see -“

The bed dips as he sits beside you. “I know. I want you to.”

Your pulse thuds loud in your ears, so hard it’s almost choking. “Din -“

“It’s alright. I need you to see me. All of me. Please.”

Long fingers curl around your wrists, not pulling but there, a reminder that he knows what he’s doing, he wants this, and everything that this means.

Your thoughts fly in a million different directions at once. 

What does this mean?

It’s -

There’s -

We -

Too much too many thoughts and you can’t -

Everything -

This means everything. 

A tremor runs through your body. 

Everything is different with you. 

Your mind quiets, centres. Focuses. On this moment. 

He wants this. To share a part of himself that he’s never shared with anyone else before. 

Your own words float through the chaos of your thoughts, words first spoken a lifetime ago. 

Whatever you can give me. I’ll take it. 

Your lungs pull tight.

I’ll take it. 

You relax your hands. 

Let him guide them away from your closed eyes. 

A calloused thumb brushes your cheekbone. 

His voice rasps gently. “Open your eyes, tionas.”

A pause. An eternity. 

You open your eyes.

The entire world shifts -

brightens -

blossoms  -

glows -

You blink -

The world is golden skin and tousled dark hair - 

Skin you’ve mapped with your hands, hair you’ve sifted through your fingers countless times -

The world is a graceful arch of a nose and a strong brow and plush lips -

Lips that have pressed to every inch of your body -

Your heart stops -

The world is brown eyes, warm and gentle, a gaze that holds everything you’ve ever looked for, everything you’ve ever wanted. 

You can’t breathe.

You can’t think. 

Moments pass and a tension grows thick in the air, buzzing along your skin, and you crack, instinct taking over, words falling from your lips without thought. 

“You could have warned me you look like the lead actor from one of those HoloNet dramas you love.”

That warm, brown gaze sparks, those plush lips quirk ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen one.”

Your own lips spread wide in a grin and then you’re kissing him and his strong hands curve around your waist to pull you close and the world condenses into just this, the two of you, right here. 

Time passes, somewhere, and you pull away, some undeniable urge bringing your gaze back to his, your fingertips tracing those laugh lines you’d felt for the first time so long ago - are they deeper now? - where they flare across his skin beautifully, frame those dark eyes that draw you in for another kiss. 

A soft sigh weaves it’s way up from your lungs as you pull back again, cup his jaw, smooth a thumb over the light scruff there, note the sweet little bare patches on either side of his chin, then meet that gaze with all the sincerity you feel. “Thank you, for giving this to me.”

His features shift, setting so seriously it takes you a moment to realize nothing is wrong, that’s just a typical expression for him. “I would give you everything.”

There’s a certain weight to the last word that makes you blink, look at him closer. 

A small furrow forms between his brows. “I want you - and others - to know this, beyond doubt and question. Because in my mind, there is none. I know I still follow The Way, and I follow it with you.”

You can’t help but lift a thumb to smooth that furrow, your heartbeat stuttering at the subsequent smile he gives you - bright, warm, beautiful. “I’m with you, Din. Step by step, together.”

His smile flutters, torn between growing and falling back into sombreness. That brown gaze flits away, and back again, as if he’s unsure of what he’s about to say. 

Leaning in, you kiss him gently, a silent reassurance, then pull back and wait patiently. 

He looks at you for a long moment, expression softening. A deep breath, then his words fall quietly between you. 

“There is a vow, among Mandalorians, that binds two people together.”

Your thoughts flash, quick. 

I would give you everything. 

You know what kind of vow he’s talking about. 

Funny, though. 

Your heart beats steadily, your muscles relaxed. No anxiety turns your stomach, tightens around your ribcage, squeezes your throat. 

There’s no panic. No worry. No nagging voices trying to pull you away, make you run, hide. No whispering thoughts churning out fear and doubt.

You’re ready take whatever he gives you. 

And give him everything in return. 

You listen calmly, watching the myriad of emotions dance across his expression as he continues. 

“The vow itself is simple. To raise any young ones in your care as Mandalorians, teach them to fight and to live with honour. To share everything that life brings, to celebrate or bear it together. And to always be of one heart, no matter what might try to come between you.”

His last words ring with familiarity, and you smile. “We are one when together, we are one when parted.”

Regret pinches the corners of his eyes. “Yes. I shouldn’t have… I should have told you what that meant - could mean. But there are more words to the vow that we haven’t spoken. You’re not sworn to anything.”

This man. 

This wonderful mass of contrasts and layers. 

Who so confidently guides your own fears away, keeps you rooted to the present, soothes the edges of your anxiety with ease. 

Here, before you, with nervousness pulling his brow, deepening the lines around his mouth. 

You soothe those lines away with a brush of your fingers. “I want to be.”

He falters. “Tionas, I need to be sure you understand what this vow means. It’s -“

“A marriage vow?” Your mouth curves up in a smile at the look of mild shock on his face. 

“Yes.”

“I know. I understand.”

A mixture of doubt and hope lift his brows. “And you still want…”

“Yes, I still want.” You huff a laugh, an overwhelming giddy lightness pulling the sound from your chest. 

“Are you -“

“Crikking hells, Din, I want to marry you.” Your words dissolve into giggles, hand leaving his face to push lightly on his chest. 

His features shift into a beautiful combination of joy and delight, smile curling his mouth. “Of course you would curse and then laugh at me when I’m proposing to you.”

It takes a deep breath but you finally get yourself under control. “You should know what you’re getting into.”

He sighs in mock exasperation. “I’m aware.”

Another push on his chest and a giggle slips past your lips. “Just tell me what to do.”

He takes your hand from his chest, and presses a kiss to your palm. “Repeat the Mando’a after me.”

You nod, squeezing his hand once. 

For a moment he just looks at you, something like reverence glowing in his gaze. When he speaks, his words are hushed and weighty. 

“We are one when together. Mhi solus tome.”

Your voice is steady and unwavering, sure. “Mhi solus tome.”

“We are one when parted. Mhi solus dar’tome.”

“Mhi solus dar’tome.” 

The tiniest sliver of anxiety breaks through your contentment at the last word, and you shy away from the thought of being parted from him. He takes your other hand and twines your fingers through his, lets them rest on the blankets between the two of you. 

He is here and you are here, right now, together. 

Your calm settles over you once again, and he continues. 

“We share all. Mhi me’dinui an.”

“Mhi me’dinui an.” Your tongue slips on the unfamiliar words, but you catch it, push through as images flit through the back of your mind. 

Soft voices under a starry sky on a quiet little planet -

A small box full of trinkets and the heavy weight of guilt unresolved -

Gentle fingertips smoothing over skin littered with scars -

Quiet laughter blending together in the dark of the hold -

His gaze is soft, voice weaving through the memories. “We will raise warriors. Mhi ba’juri verde.”

Big, amber eyes, tiny clawed hands that reach for you -

Soft coos and bright babbles and the curious flick of wide ears -

The barely-there weight of a little form curled into the crook of your arm -

Tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Mhi ba’juri verde.”

His hands release yours to cup your face as he kisses you firmly and the warm, bright thing in your chest bursts into a thousand lights that race across the universe. 

You’re dizzy, swaying, drunk on the rolling waves of emotion that cascade over you again and again. You break the kiss, gasping for air, lungs shaking with laughter, and he smiles at you and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

Your fingers trace the curve of his lips, the sweep of his cheekbone, the arch of his nose. He closes his eyes, revelling in your touch, but that won’t do, you want to see those brown eyes that hold everything and you brush the pad of your thumb along the corner of his eye, echoing his words. 

“Open your eyes, Din.”

He blinks, creases sharpening as his smile deepens, but his gaze darts away again. “I wasn’t sure if… if you would…”

Realization makes you pause. 

He’s nervous. 

About his appearance. 

It makes sense, he’s never experienced any sort of reaction to his physical self - the one beneath the beskar. He can’t know what others might think of how he looks, because you’re the only one who has seen him. 

He doesn’t know how beautiful he is. 

You lean back, hold his chin up with the tip of your finger, peering closely as if considering his features. “I’m still right.”

Confusion, uncertainty flicker through that brown gaze. “About what?”

It takes effort to hold back the laughter, incredulous at the thought that he would doubt your attraction to him. “You’re very oglable.” 

Surprise - bashfulness - delight -

The golden skin along his cheekbones flushes pink and -

Kriff. He’s blushing. 

You can’t stop the laughter anymore, watching emotion scramble his expression. All those years spent under a helmet are obvious, he’s never had to school his features or been aware of what others might read on his face. 

It’s ridiculously endearing, seeing this seemingly somber and stoic Mandalorian fluster and blush. 

Then he’s moving, lightning fast, and pushing you down onto the mattress, pulling himself over you to press his lips to yours and steal your breath away. 

A soft sigh against your cheek, the gentle swipe of his tongue along your bottom lip and you open to him, wrap your arms around his shoulders and lose yourself in the slow, languid glide of his kiss, the feel of his broad frame over you, the warmth of his hands on your back, the beat of his heart pressed against yours. 

The sound of a muffled babble breaks into the moment, and the rest of the world seeps through. 

Din groans as he pulls back, glancing in the direction of the bunk. “Kid has the worst timing.”

“If we can figure out what makes him sleep late some days, we’ll be set.” You tilt your chin to press a kiss to one of the bare patches along his jaw. 

Another babble floats through the hold, this one ringing with insistence. 

And if history repeats itself, the next sound will be much louder, full of indignation, and followed by the thump of tiny fists on the door of the bunk. 

It pushes the two of you into reluctant action, Din moving to stand until you grasp his arm. “Let me get him. You stay here and think about how pretty you are.”

He huffs his laugh - your heart stutters, seeing the way his eyes light, the hint of that blush on his cheeks - and shifts aside to let you slip out of bed, fingers grazing your thigh as you stand. “Thank you.”

The seriousness in his voice makes you pause, look down at him. “For calling you pretty?”

“For saying yes.”

Your stomach dips at the curve of his brow, pulled up in earnestness. “As if I’d saying anything else.” Bending to kiss that brow, smooth a curl of his hair back into place, you hold his gaze firmly with yours. “I love you, Din.”

He rests his hands on your hips, brown gaze soft with love. “I love you, tionas.”

A sharp cry from the bunk snaps your attention. “Ok, ok, I’m coming.” 

One last kiss and you reluctantly step away from him, grab your clothes to pull them on as you make your way to rescue the grumpy little green dude who’s now banging on the bunk door with more force than should be possible for one his size. 

The memory of that brown gaze, mingled with the echo of those solemn words, hovers in the back of your mind for the rest of the day. Your entire body feels lighter and more solid somehow, floating and yet rooted in place. It’s disorienting and wonderful at the same time. 

Every tilt of the helmet, every modulated word seems so much more, now. Your mind overlays the image of his features, showing those lines around his eyes crinkle when he huffs his laugh at the kid’s antics, the warm brown of his gaze when the black visor turns toward you. 

You drift to each other at every opportunity, hands reaching out to touch and grasp and hold. Like you can’t resist being near the other and not feel them, needing them to be closer. 

Those solemn words are knotted around your hearts, inextricable, and it pulls tight whenever there’s distance between you. 

Even now, him seated in the pilot’s chair, you and the kid in the passengers’, watching the dwarf planet in the Pax system draw closer through the transparisteel. You can feel it, that pull, the desire to reach out and feel the one who shares your heart. 

Din’s gloved hands move confidently over the control console and the Razor Crest shifts into the landing sequence. The helmet turns, black visor glancing back at you, and you smile, seeing those eyes full of love behind it. 

The planet looms big and the transparisteel goes white as the ship enter’s the atmosphere, breaking through cloud cover. 

You watch it pass, fear and anxiety a barely-there presence in the back of your mind. 

Because you know, without doubt or question, no matter what awaits you on the surface, nothing can come between the two of you.

*****

Mando’a translations

Tionas - question 

Cyar’ika - sweetheart

[dockett]

star wars week 2023: may 17 • favorite tv show » the mandalorian (insp.)

[dockett]

OP: @abigail_larson via Twitter

[dockett]

[dockett]

Happy Star Wars Day!

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Unexpected Constellations Series- Din Djarin x Female Reader (In Progress)

Summary: Things in the Bounty Hunter's Guild are tense. The Mandalorian is hired for a mysterious job to retrieve a desirable bounty, but the stakes are higher than normal. Something dark is brewing in the galaxy and you'll do anything to protect the light in your life, the small group of stars you've found yourself in the middle of.

An unexpected constellation.

Tags: Mutual Pining, Slow Burn (sort of), Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Angst, Fluff, Smut (18+, minors DNI), No use of Y/N, etc. (I'll add more as I go along)

⚠️ Warnings: Foul Language (Din and reader swear a lot), Violence, Mature Themes, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Death, Explicit Content/Detailed Descriptions of Sexual Acts (I will label 18+ chapters.)

A/N: This fic loosely follows the plot of Star Wars and The Mandalorian. I may make mistakes regarding facts and information so please call me out for it and I can change them :) The story basically takes place after TBOBF (with some minor adjustments) like Din still has the Razor Crest (because not everyone can fit in an N-1 Starfighter ok? ok.) I'm going to try and stay consistent with weekly uploads but they may come more or less frequently depending on life. Please leave love (like/reblog) and feedback, I love all of it. Hope you enjoy!

Table of Contents:

✧ Part 00

✧ Part 01

✧ Part 02

✧ Part 03

✧ Part 04

✧ Part 05

✧ Part 06

✧ Part 07

✧ Part 08

✧ Part 09 18+

✧ Part 10 18+

✧ Part 11

✧ Part 12

✧ Part 13 18+

✧ Part 14 (Coming soon but not yet sorry)

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Pedro Pascal’s Slutty Little Knee attends the Met Gala 2023, Karl Lagerfeld: A Line of Beauty

[dockett]

Apothecary - A Joel Miller Story

joel miller x witchy!reader

joel miller masterlist

joel becomes curious about the woman running the medicine shop in Jackson, and the strange rumors swirling around her.

series warnings | 18+ angst, eventual smut, spooky ooky goings-on, canon-typical violence

.............................

Series playlist

chapter 1

chapter 2

Chapter 3 - coming soon

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Everything I Love II Din Djarin x Reader

Born to Beg For You: non-linear one shots. The Mandalorian helps a slave.

Summary: after traveling together for several months, you trust the Mandalorian and he gives you a hand.

Warnings: minors dni, 18+ only! Brief mention of scars and how reader got them, smut, fingering, f!receiving.

Word Count: 1.8k

You were nervous as you slowly pulled your shirt up, baring your skin to the Mandalorian.

Your back was covered in scars—tough and leathery. He reached a gloved hand up, gentle as he touched you. You flinched and he hesitated. You were breathing hard, tears pricking at your eyes. They flowed down over your cheeks. His fingers pressed over your skin.

Memories of that day poured through your brain, like molten metal, searing its way into the space between the two of you. You tell him then, of what happened to you. 80 lashes. You should've died.

“It would've killed her,” you whispered, closing your eyes as you tried to keep your thoughts together. “My sister. I couldn't let them hurt her. It was just a piece of bread that she had stolen. I–I took her place. They made her watch.”

You didn't look at him, but the way he breathed harder told you of his anger. 

“Hut’uun.” He hissed. Coward.

His tone sent a chill down your spine.

His hand trailed up, grabbing onto your shoulder to turn you. You did so, but kept your eyes trained down as you pulled your shirt back over your head. You were ashamed. You hated the scars. You had done your best to protect your sister, but it hadn't been enough. It was never enough.

He could see right through you, your mind traveling a mile a minute, and he hooked a finger under your jaw. 

“Look at me,” he commanded, his tone calm. You could sense the rage underneath it. You struggled to do what he asked, but eventually drew your eyes to the shine of his helmet. You swallowed as he stared through you from behind the visor, more tears pouring down your cheeks. “Thank you for showing me, cyar’ika. I'm sorry that happened.” 

You were surprised by the apology. No one had ever apologized for it before (not that you had shown very many people). It was the unfortunate reality of your life. It took you time to respond, thinking over his words carefully. “Thank you, Mando.”

He cleared his throat. “Djarin,” he said. “My name is Din Djarin.”

The flow of tears was unstoppable. You closed your eyes as his hand cupped your cheek, brushing them away with his thumb. You placed your hand on the back of his, leaning into his touch. 

“Thank you, Din Djarin,” you corrected yourself. His shoulders sagged slightly, his helmet turning down towards you. He leaned forward and his helmet was cold against your forehead. You didn't mind. 

His hands moved then, sliding around you and pulling you into a tight hug. You hugged him back, holding onto him like a lifeline. You rolled around his name in your mind, mouthing it as you held each other. You wanted to keep this moment locked away in your mind, as you weren't sure when it would happen again, if ever. The thought gave you an idea, a bold one.

You pulled away, and in a moment of bravery, asked, “Can I stay with you tonight?”

“Senaar,” he spoke softly. “Are you sure?” 

You began to feel panic rising within you, blindsiding you. Were you sure? After everything that had happened, would you be able to handle it? What if he rejects you? He doesn't want to stay with you, he didn't say yes, he would've said yes if he did, he doesn't—

His voice cut through your line of thought. “You're thinking too fast. You are always welcome to stay with me. I just want to make sure that this is something you want.” 

You swallowed around the lump that formed in your throat, and nodded. “I do. Want this, I mean.” You gestured between the two of you as you spoke. “I mean, how long have we been traveling together?” 

“Five months,” he replied. His tone seemed amused at your acknowledgement of your growing feelings. "I thought you'd never ask. You're always too wrapped up in your brain.” 

“Hey, my brain is a wonderful place.” 

He grabbed onto your hand, leading you to his quarters. “I'm sure I can think of a better place to be.”

Your heart pounded harder in your chest at his implication. He wanted you, too, to some degree, the extent you weren't sure of, but it was enough that he agreed to you being in his bunk.

He flipped on the light, holding out a hand to invite you to sit on the bed. It was a smaller space, even smaller than yours, and his broad shoulders made it seem tighter of a fit than it actually was. You sat down and scooted up the bunk until your back was against the far wall. He watched you the entire time. 

You smirked, holding out your finger and curling it towards you in a beckoning motion. He pressed a button by the door, and the room was plunged into darkness while the door closed. You felt the bed dip as he crawled up towards you. 

Instead of feeling trapped as he came to lay beside you, no doubt looking at you through his visor—you knew it had night vision—you felt invigorated. Your hands reached for him in the dark, pulling him towards you as you grasped onto the beskar of his chest plate. One of his hands reached around the back of your neck, pushing your forehead against his helmet while the other rested on your hip. 

Not raising your voice above a whisper, you felt intrepid as you said, “Din, I want you to undress me.”

The man shuddered, tightening his grip on you, waiting to see if you would change your mind. When you didn't, he quickly got to work. 

“Mesh’la,” he murmured as he unbuttoned your pants. “Ner mesh’la senaar.”

Then you heard his gloves fall to the floor, and soon your pants followed them. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you up and settling you with your back to his chest. His hands fell to your thighs, and you felt yourself trembling in anticipation. He squeezed them gently before bringing one hand up to trail a finger underneath your underwear by your hip. 

“Should I take this off, too?” His voice was deep, husky with lust. Doubts of him not wanting this, too, were washed away. You couldn't find words, only nodding your head. That was all he needed, and you could hear the sound of fabric tearing as he ripped it off of you. 

“I'll get you more,” he crooned. “Especially if it means I get to take them off of you like this.”

Your head fell back onto his shoulder as you breathed hard. His words went straight down between your thighs. You focused on the feel of his fingers, trailing up and down the inside of your legs, and how fast his chest was rising and falling. You could feel him through his flight suit, hard and twitching. 

“What do you want?” 

Another gush between your legs. 

“Whatever you'll give me. Gedet’ye, please.” 

You thought that using one of the Mando’a words he taught you would rile him up, and judging from the way he gripped your thighs as you said it, you were right. 

He growled, literally, as his hand came to your pussy. He rested his hand on top of your pubic mound, his fingers rubbing into your folds. “So wet for me already?” He asked, chuckling. “Good girl.” 

You sighed at his praise, hands moving behind you to grab onto his thighs. You gripped them hard, holding onto them as he explored you. It didn't take him long to get his bearings in the dark, and from the way he touched you, two large and calloused fingers finding your clit and rubbing in slow circles, you figured he'd done this before. 

The moan he pulled out of you when his pace increased was sinful, and he groaned as soon as he heard it. You rolled your hips into his hand, eager for more. His other hand came to your hip, stilling you. “Patience, cyar’ika.” 

You rolled your head, pressing your cheek to his neck. He rubbed tight little motions against you, causing your body to jolt. His fingers applied more pressure, and your thighs slammed closed around him. He chuckled again.

His fingers dipped inside of you as his free hand forced your legs back open. They curled and then pulled out, finding your clit again, and he repeated the motion: in, out, circling. It was dizzying, and had you falling apart on top of him. You wanted him to choose one or the other, this felt like teasing, and it didn't take you very long to beg. 

“Djarin, please,” you sputtered. “Need more.”

“Tell me what you need,” he commanded. “Guide me.”

Your hand moved to his, where it stilled. You pushed his fingers inside of you, both of you groaning aloud, and you removed your hand. His thumb found your clit, pressing against it as he pushed his fingers into you, curling them until he found the perfect spot. When he found it, your back arched, the stimulation was too much. 

He read you like a book, feeling the way your body shook, listening to the sacrilegious sounds you made, until he had you right where he wanted you.

It didn't take long for your quivering body to give into him completely. You could feel yourself climbing higher and higher, threatening to break, and then it gave way. You tightened around his fingers and you came hard. Your eyebrows furrowed together and you swore that colors exploded behind your eyes, a guttural groan of Djarin’s name dropped from your lips.

He worked you through your orgasm, stroking inside of you and pressing against your clit as you shook atop him. His cock was hard against your back, twitching with each jerk of your body. Then everything became too much, overstimulation causing you to squirm away from his hands. He held you firmly in place, but pulled his fingers out of you, resting his hand on your bare thigh. 

You grabbed his hand, bringing his fingers to your lips, and sucked them into your mouth. The sweet taste of your juices had your eyes rolling back. You could hear him moan behind you and then you were being turned to face him, your thighs wrapping around his middle. His fingers never left your mouth, and now he watched you as you bobbed your head and stared through the visor at him. 

His shoulders were tense, his body rigid under you. You rocked your hips forward, your pussy pushing against his member. His other hand shot back to your hip, stopping you. 

“N-no,” he growled, and then dropped his head to your shoulder as you pulled his fingers out of your mouth. His helmet pressed into you, and your hands came up to cradle the back of your neck. “You have no idea how much I want you. But I want to take this slow.”

His admission made your cheeks warm. I want you. 

You nodded, leaning your head on the beskar resting on your shoulder. “Okay,” you said. “We can do that.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a hug.

“Your trust is not lost on me,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

You smiled to yourself. He was worth waiting for. 

[dockett]

I can't believe this reached 1k notes!! Thank you all so much!!

Asking Nicely II Joel Miller x Reader

Joel's jealousy burns within him, brighter than he thought it would. But you're a tough gal, you can hold your own.

Warning: implied age gap, unwelcome advances, brief depiction of violence, explicit content, fingering f!receiving, p in v, unprotected sex. 18+ only, minors DNI!

Word count: 3k

You were a bright and shining light in the darkness of a broken world, and whether Joel would admit it or not, it made him incredibly nervous. He enjoyed you, more than he wanted to say, especially to himself. He was worried that if he confessed his feelings to himself or to you, that you'd leave, or something terrible would happen. So he kept quiet, and would watch you from a distance, thinking about the way you'd fit against him in all the right ways.

He was at the bar in Jackson well past sundown. He had come to see you. You were playing that night; Tommy had asked you to. So you sat in the corner of the bar, strumming the guitar and singing as everyone quieted to listen.

Joel vaguely recognized the tune, something slow and mellow that had couples swaying together around the tables. You sang beautifully. You played beautifully. He basked in what felt like normalcy and stayed until you were done several songs later. He watched you smile as the people in the bar clapped for you.

You set the guitar in the stand, and walked up to the bar, and Joel finished his whiskey. The bartender announced last call but he stayed seated. He watched as Ben, a man about your age, sidled up next to you and began talking to you. Joel could see you beam at him, and something stirred within him.

He kept his face carefully composed. He watched you shake your head, and then look around desperately. He felt it was a call for help. He stood as people began to leave, walking with intention in every step towards you.

“C’mon,” Ben was saying. “You said it yourself, you're not doing anything tonight. Come on over.”

“Ben, I'm flattered, really! But—oh, hi Joel.” You looked over Ben’s shoulder at Joel, relief washing over you. Joel offered you a nod and Ben turned. Joel was slightly taller than him, and heavier set than him. But Ben didn't back down immediately.

The younger man squared his shoulders, looking Joel in the eyes. Joel didn't find him to be intimidating, but he did see him as a threat. A threat to you.

Ben reached for you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You tried pulling away but he kept you locked against him as the two men stared each other down. You felt uncomfortable, and you tried to pull away again. “Ben, please.”

Joel watched, clenching his fists. Anger began pouring into his chest as you glanced at him, a fleeting look that he couldn't read. He stepped towards Ben. “You had best listen to her.”

“Or what?” Ben sneered. You wormed your way out of his grasp. He turned his head to look down to you, and that's when you closed your hand into a fist and punched him.

Ben stumbled back from the force of the blow, and Joel stepped between you and the man. The bar went silent, the remaining people fixing their eyes on the trio. Joel might as well have been a wolf, hackles raised and growling as Ben touched his jaw. Ben glared at Joel, spitting out, “Son of a bitch.”

“Move along now, son,” Joel replied, preparing himself for the imminent fight.

You breathed hard, your fury written across your face, and when Ben looked to you, you held his gaze and cocked an eyebrow. You wanted to dare him to overstep again, especially now that Joel was here. Your knuckles throbbed from the impact of the blow. It made you feel alive.

Ben scoffed, shaking his head, and turned to leave. Joel stood between you the whole time, waiting for the door to close behind him before turning to you. He looked you up and down, asking silently with his eyes if you were okay. He reached down, grabbing onto your hand, looking at the red skin over your knuckles. One of them had split, and was dripping blood.

“C’mon,” he said, jerking his head to the right. “Let's get you outta here.”

•••

Joel sat across from you and tended to your wounds with gentle hands. He had a clean rag in his hands that was soaked in alcohol; you commented that he was good at this. He wiped the area around the split, and then dabbed at the wound itself. 

You resisted the urge to pull your hand away at the sting, but you held firm, watching him as he furrowed his brow. “I've patched myself up enough to know, I guess.”

Nodding your head, you sighed. “I shouldn't have punched him.”

“If you hadn't, I would've,” he quipped. “No one gets to touch you like that.” 

Amusement beamed at your eyes as you looked at him. You had seen the flash of jealousy in his eyes earlier, and you could see it again more clearly now. “My my, is Joel Miller jealous?” 

Joel froze, clearing his throat, and you knew you had caught him like a rabbit in a trap. “No.”

“Uh huh,” you teased. He frowned, setting down the rag before standing. Your smile disappeared. You didn't realize you had struck such a strong chord. 

“I should get goin’.”  

“Hey,” you said, reaching out and grabbing onto his arm as he tried to step away. “I'd like it if you stayed.”

The man locked up again, his gaze snapping to yours in an instant. You rose from the chair. “Please?”

He sighed. “Suppose ya did ask nicely.”

You grinned up at him, and then your hands moved, one resting on his chest and the other on his neck. He was still, his breath hitching. His voice was deathly quiet when he whispered, “What’re you doin?”

Pressing your body against his, you tilted your head up. “Something I should've done a long time ago,” you whispered back, and then you kissed him. 

He whined. Almost silent, but it was there, swallowed by your mouth as you moved your lips against his. You began to pull away when he didn't respond immediately, fear of overstepping suddenly at the forefront of your mind. 

Then, his hands pressed into your lower and upper back, keeping you from backing away. He kissed you back, and he kissed you hard. It was zealous and feverish, growing more intense as the hand you had on his neck inched up and back into the hair on the back of his head. You were pressed backward into the table. Joel pulled away, you whined in protest, and then you were lifted by your hips up onto the surface.

His lips returned to yours, and you couldn't help the moan that escaped from your mouth as his tongue darted out, licking over your bottom lip. You met him, tongues tangling together, as you spread your legs to accommodate his body between them. You could feel wetness pooling at the apex of your thighs. You could feel the heat of the moment possessing you—Joel possessing you—and you gasped for breath when he pulled his head away. His touch left wakes of fire, tingling sensations burning across your skin. You needed more. 

“Maybe I was jealous,” he growled, and you shuddered. “Maybe I've been thinkin’ of this for weeks.” 

Your cheeks flushed at his admission and your eyebrows furrowed. “Well, maybe I've been thinking about it for months.”

His eyebrows raised, and then a smirk slowly played across his lips. “Darlin’, all you ever had to do was ask.” 

You swallowed, playing with one of the buttons on his flannel. “Joel,” you started, looking up at him through your lashes. “Take me to the bedroom.”

He didn't waste a second, hooking his hands under your knees and lifting you with a soft grunt. You directed him down the hallway towards your room. You expected him to throw you on the bed, to tear off your clothes, to bite you, to claim you, and you wanted these things. But when he laid you down with the softest hands, gentle and easy, you realized that you'd take any piece of him he'd give to you. His tenderness would not go unnoticed. 

He licked his lips as he looked over you, splayed out on the bed beneath him, and you felt shy. You turned your head, trying to hide, and he gave you a ‘tut tut’ with his tongue. “Look at me.” 

You did as he asked, and he followed it with a, “Good girl.” Your body shook in response, your cheeks burning again. He chuckled. 

He leaned down, grabbing your hands and pinning them together over your head. He told you to keep them there as he kissed along the side of your neck. He undressed you methodically, undoing the buttons on your shirt, one by one. You could feel your impatience growing. “Joel.” 

He hummed in response. The last button came undone and his hands found your bare sides, running up and down them before taking your breasts in his hands. He squeezed them gingerly, feeling their weight in his palms. You couldn't help squirming. You struggled with not moving your hands, you wanted to feel over him, too. You resisted the urge to touch his shoulders, to feel the muscles underneath his button up. You wanted him, more in that moment than you'd ever wanted anything else. 

He undid the button and fly on your jeans, and he pulled them down and away, leaving you clad in only your underwear. He breathed heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He looked at you with feral eyes. You could feel it in his gaze: he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

His fingers hooked around your underwear, pulling them off in one motion. Your hands fell then, touching his arms. He looked at you, a domineering flame in his eyes, and in one smooth motion he grabbed onto you and flipped you onto your side. A smack landed on your asscheek, stinging the skin. You yelped, and then shuddered. He chuckled. 

His palm rubbed over where he'd slapped you. “What did I say?” 

“Not to move my hands…” you whispered. 

“Don't disobey me, darlin’.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Good girl,” he repeated. Your eyes closed, mouth watering at his praise. You never thought it would sound so good. He rolled you back onto your back, and came to lay beside you, propping himself up on his elbow as his other hand came to your thigh. He rubbed, and then squeezed, and then inched his way up towards your pussy. 

You shuddered in anticipation. You wanted him to touch you in the spot only you had touched. He stopped moving, and you whined in protest. Your arms stayed above your head this time. You looked to him, and his eyes were watching you. 

“I wanna make sure,” he mumbled. “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “But…”

He tensed. “Yes?” 

“I haven't done this—” you started, and then felt yourself hesitating. You felt embarrassed. “—this kinda shit before.” 

His eyebrows raised and he squeezed your thigh. “You're sure you wanna do it with me?”

You didn't hesitate this time. “I do.”

His middle and ring finger brushed up over your folds, palm resting on the junction of your thigh and pelvis. Your eyes closed, and you could feel him lean and kiss your forehead. “Alright then.”

He brought his fingers to your clit, pressing against it in slow circles—testing the water. You gasped, nails digging into your palms to keep your hands from moving. Your thighs shook ever so slightly. Joel's lips found your neck, your head rolled to the side, and he kissed your skin, leaving little nibbles in his wake as he traveled down and then up again. One finger sunk into your entrance, and your thighs jolted closed. 

He waited until your legs fell again to pump in and out, and you couldn't stop the groan that left you. Joel's breathing was loud in your ear. 

He sunk another finger inside of you, slowly stretching you. His fingers were so much bigger than yours, long and thick, and he played you like an instrument. He found which spots made you cry out, and he pushed and rubbed them until you were a sweaty, babbling mess in his hands. You tossed and turned your head, his lips by your ear, encouraging you. 

“Doin’ so good, darlin’,” he whispered. “So wet, so tight. Oh yes, right there, huh? That's the spot. Yeah.” 

Your hips bucked off the bed as he curled his fingers. Your hands shot down to your sides, gripping the blanket underneath you. He chuckled, sending shivers down your spine. You couldn't focus, his fingers driving you to insanity. You knew that this would be bad for you, because you would never stop craving this. Every time you'd see him, you'd want him more than you already did. He knew it too. 

His hand shifted angles, his thumb flicking at your clit as his fingers continued their ruthless assault. “Joel.” 

You whispered it like a prayer. 

“Cum. For me, darlin’, please.” 

He flicked twice more, and everything that had been building in you exploded. Your legs slammed closed around his hand, and he moaned with you as you cried out. The waves crashed into you, carrying you further from reality, small movements of his hands driving you forward into the deep waters you recognized as Joel. You were putty in his hands. Your eyebrows furrowed, your mouth open, and Joel couldn't help but watch as you came on his fingers. He was mesmerized. 

You began to come down, twitching and jerking, and then trying to scramble away from Joel's movements. It was all too much for you. It was overwhelming. Everything was loud, your combined breathing, your heart slamming in your chest and the blood pounding in your ears. You reached to grab his forearm, digging your nails into his skin, and he finally slowed to a stop. You shook like a leaf.

He kissed you then, his lips soft against yours. You realized then that he was still fully clothed, and you reached for his belt. He grabbed your wrist, stopping you from undoing it as he pulled away. You groaned, trying to express your discontent. 

“Patience,” he said, ducking his head to take your nipple into his mouth. He sucked on it, flicking it with his tongue, making your back arch. He pulled away with a ‘pop!’ and you fell back onto the bed. He got up, taking off his shirt and undoing his belt. He kicked his boots off, then his pants and underwear followed, and you saw the sight you had been literally dreaming of for weeks. 

He was a broad and beautiful man, scars and hair covering his body. You followed the trail of hair down from his navel, and your eyes widened at the sight of his cock. It was long, thick, curved up and weeping with precum.  He got back up on the bed.

You felt nervous. Joel could see it. He took your face in his hands. “If you wanna stop, at any point, you just tell me,” he reassured. 

“Okay,” you replied. “I will.” 

He nodded his head, hands going down by your sides to hold himself up as he climbed over the top of you. His cock rubbed against you, your wetness coating him. He trembled. 

His cock pushed into you, and your breath hitched. The stretch of him entering your pussy stung, and your hands shot to his back, gripping him. He didn't say anything, just slowly but surely worked his way inside of you. He sighed when he finally seated himself. You were breathing hard, and sweat had gathered at your temples. 

“I'm gonna move, darlin’.” 

You nodded, opening your eyes to find him staring at you. Something shone in his, something warm and almost loving. You wanted to drink it up, sit in this moment forever. He was looking at you like nothing else in the world mattered to him. He moved then, his thrusts deep and heavy. 

It felt so goddamn good. 

You cried out, and he reached down, encouraging you with his hands to wrap your thighs around his hips. You did so immediately, and it allowed him somehow even deeper access. You moaned, then gasped, then whispered his name. He hummed. 

“Faster,” you whined. He obliged. 

Each increase of pace was followed by squeezing him harder with your legs, or digging your nails into the skin of his back, and you cried out louder each time. 

He wasn't quiet, whispering your name, whispering praises, telling you how good you were for him. He moaned when your hips shifted off the bed, trying to meet his thrusts. 

“Excited, huh? Do you like when I make you feel good, sugar? F-fuck. You're so god damn tight, feels so damn good.” 

“Mhmmm! Yes, Joel! I can't—I can't—” 

“Can't what?” He crooned, brushing a hand across your cheek. “We both know you can cum for me again.” 

That did it for you. You unraveled again. Your hand came up, grabbing onto his hair and pulling him down onto you. His body covered yours, pressing against you, his face tucking against your neck. He moaned loudly, and you shook, unable to even do much as breathe as you tightened around him over and over again. His thrusts became heavier again, more sporadic, and then he was cumming, too. 

He fell against you completely, barely holding himself up. You gulped in the air when you felt like you could breathe again, resting your cheek against the side of his head. Your hands slowly relaxed. 

He moved after a couple minutes of silence, pulling out of you before rolling to lay by your side. You immediately curled up against him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

“No no,” he replied. He gave you a smile, a genuine broad grin. “Thank you.” 

[dockett]

You Were A Kindness II Din Djarin x Reader

Born To Beg For You: non-linear one shots. The Mandalorian helps a slave.

Summary: What better place to start than the beginning?

Warnings: mentions of SA. Injury and bruising.

Word count: 2.2k

You were one of the lucky ones, picked up by a mechanic who taught you how to find your way around every ship, every speeder, and every blaster. You were grateful for his instruction, and the ability to work with something that you liked—something that made sense. 

People, however—that was something you weren't sure you would ever figure out. You preferred your relatively solitary life, where the rattle of machines and tools were your companions. Regardless of your inability to do well with people, there was one person you did try with. 

You were “getting to know” the Mandalorian on his frequent stops. He was welcomed by the Mechanic, and you were assigned to work on his ship and attend to him. You didn't mind the man, of course, he was quiet and respectable, and your brain was insatiably curious about him. You found yourself staring at him more often than not when he wasn't looking. When he came back without the child and a different ship, he was even quieter, and seemingly had a more hardened exterior.

He often stayed with his ship in the hangar, declining a bed inside. You always slept a little easier in your apartment, aware that if something went wrong, he'd be in the hangar with you. 

That night felt different when you were summoned to the Mechanic’s chambers. It was tense and uncomfortable, and the way he looked at you screamed at you to run. But when the man, Tamar, told you to come with him to his bed, you had no choice but to follow.

•••

You ran into the hangar, desperately aching for your own bed and you rounded the corner before slamming into a broad chest. 

You stumbled backwards, almost losing your balance before firm hands grabbed onto your arms. Tears were streaming down your cheeks as your eyes shot up, staring up at the man you just ran into. Cold beskar greeted your gaze: the Mandalorian.

You quickly stuttered out an apology, rushing your hands to your cheeks to wipe away your tears. “I'm s-sorry, I didn't mean—”

“Are you alright?” His modulated voice cut off. 

You shook your head. “I'm… I'm fine.” 

His gloved hand came to your jaw, and you flinched away from his touch. He immediately raised both hands, and stepped backward. You swallowed with some effort, knowing he could see the handprint that was probably blooming along your throat. Maker knew you could definitely feel it there. 

You both stood there for a considerable amount of time, his arms dropped back to his sides, and then he cleared his throat as you stared at the floor. “You're in trouble.”

You shrugged, before nodding. “I… I suppose I am.” You sighed and folded your arms in front of you, hands tight on your skin. “Forget about it.” 

“Do you need help?”

“No! No, no,” you exclaimed, looking up to him with panic in your eyes. “Please, it's… it's fine! I'm fine.” 

He stared at you and you could feel his gaze burning into you, before he nodded. “If I can help,” he said. 

It flashed through your mind. The freedom of being able to go and do whatever he wanted, flying across the galaxy at his own whim. More tears bubbled up in your eyes. The life you couldn't ever have.

“I-I couldn’t,” you whispered. 

“Couldn't what?”

“Mando,” you murmured. “You wouldn't be able to take me away from here, as far as you possibly could.”

“Why not?” 

His answer surprised you. Your eyebrows raised. “Because I'm trapped here, under that… that man's control.” You spat out the words, venom laced in your tone. 

“Did that man do this?” He asked, and reached for you again, hooking a finger under your chin. This time you didn't flinch away. You closed your eyes at his touch, before giving a small nod. He practically growled, “Hut’uun.”

Your shoulders shook and more tears fell down across your cheeks. You couldn't open your eyes, you couldn't bear to look at the man. 

“Do you want to leave?”

“More than anything.” 

He moved his hand from your chin, and grabbed your hand. “Then let's go.”

•••

The Mandalorian cut your hair in deft strokes. 

You stared at the mirror, defiant as your long hair tumbled to the floor. You'd waited for this moment for so long, to finally be rid of your old life. Your eyes flicked to the reflection of the man behind you, working with careful ease. Neither of you said anything, not until the last lock was chopped. “Thank you,” you whispered. You looked to yourself then; short hair suited you. You glanced away before you could glance down at the bruise on your throat. You didn't want to acknowledge the reminder of what had happened. This was your first step towards freedom. 

You flipped around, looking up at him. 

“Where are we going?” You asked. 

“Coruscant.”

You nodded your head and walked past him out into the hull of the ship before making your way up to the cockpit. You wanted to watch the colors of hyperspace.u

•••

You slid down beneath the bubbles, gazing out the floor to ceiling window at the buzzing nightlife of Coruscant. The warm water as well as jets to boot was a first. You hadn't ever had a proper bath, just quick five-minute freezing showers, and Maker, the water sliding over your skin made you close your eyes and roll your head back. 

You had asked Mando when you got to the suite if you could take one, to which he gazed at you for a beat, like he was frowning under his helmet. He had finally nodded, accompanied by, “Of course. You can do what you'd like.”

Unfortunately, you didn't know what you liked, or what you didn't like, so tiptoeing into a bath was your second step towards freedom. You had taken the bags of clothing he bought for you earlier and scampered to the room that was yours. You couldn't help the twitch of a smile that came to your lips at the memory: the Mandalorian was insistent, and even when you told him his kindness was too much, he had bought them anyway. 

Sinking down into the water, you closed your eyes and did your best to relax. Thoughts nibbled at your attention, pulling your mind in every way possible, and even when you hushed them inside your head, they didn't stop. Did you deserve this? Were you allowed to enjoy the freedom you could finally grasp in your fingers? Would you always be on the run? 

You heard the door of the suite open and your muscles tensed. More thoughts flooded your mind. Was he leaving? Was someone else here? The first question flashed through your mind again, and your heart clenched in your chest. Did you want him to stay?

Yes, came the immediate answer. You swallowed the lump in your throat and pulled yourself up and out of the tub. You dried yourself off and pushed down on the drain button, and watched the water swirl away as you threw on the change of clothes you'd brought into the bathroom with you. You walked out into your room, before hearing the clinking of plates. 

What if he's eating? What if he had his helmet off? Maker, you wouldn't forgive yourself if you saw him without a helmet, especially after all he had done for you. You cringed. How would he react if you did see his face, the one he took so much care to hide from the outside world? Would he abandon you? Or worse, take you back to Tamar? 

Then you heard another sound—him clearing his throat. All you had to do was call out to him, ask if you were okay to come out. It shouldn't have felt as insurmountable as it did. You clenched your fists at your side, and then knocked on your side of the door. You could hear his footsteps walking across the suite towards you.

“Cyar’ika?” He asked. “Is everything alright?” 

The heavy falls of his boots came to a stop outside your door. 

“Uh, yes! Yes, everything's fine,” you blurted. "I just didn't want to come out without... just in case you had your helmet off."

He didn't say anything for a moment and you were sure you'd said something wrong. “I have something out here. For you.” 

Another silence followed. He shuffled his feet before asking, "Would you open the door?"

You pressed the release button next to the doorframe, and the door slid up. He was there, standing right in front of you, his broad figure looming above you. He stepped aside, holding out his hand towards the table, where several plates of food were sitting. You could smell it, the delicious aroma of fruits and roasted meat filling the room. 

“For me?” You murmured.

“Yes. Come, sit.” 

Another first, to have something like the extravagant meals Tamar always ate every single evening. You did as the Mandalorian asked, sitting across from him. You were overwhelmed by the unfamiliar choices in front of you, and he watched you carefully as you grabbed bits and pieces off the plates on the table. You could feel yourself shaking. No one had shown you this kind of kindness in a very long time, and if there was one thing you had learned in this life was that kindness was conditional.

What does he want from me? 

“Are you going to—”

He cut you off with a shake of his head, clearly knowing where you were going. “I will later. Eat, cyar'ika.”

There. He said that word again, addressing you in his own language. You wondered what it meant and chose not to ask. Not yet. 

The meat melted in your mouth, cooked to perfection, warm, and absolutely delicious. You sighed at the taste, and tears began to well in your eyes. You'd never thought you'd get to eat something like this, never thought you would be out from under the Mechanic’s control. It felt surreal, like none of this was happening.

Maybe it was all an illusion, a trick of your mind. 

“Mando,” you murmured, the tears spilling over your cheeks. “How do I know I'm not dreaming?”

“Food doesn't have a taste in my dreams."

You slowly nodded your head; you supposed he did have a point. You latched onto it, the way the food tasted as you dove after bits of fruit, grounding yourself with it. You focused on the textures, the way each piece felt in your fingers before you popped it in your mouth. You didn't know food could taste this good—this real. 

His gaze hardly left you, and you both fell into silence. You had realized long ago that he was not a talker, and when he did speak it was clear and concise. He was a very intentional man. Which made you wonder, why did he help you? What did he want from you? 

“You're thinking very loudly,” he said, modulated voice cutting cleanly into your thoughts. Your eyes focused on him. You had stopped eating. He didn't say anything else, and you were unsure of how to respond. 

“I guess,” you started, and then shook your head. “I guess I am. Can I ask you something?” 

He leaned back in his chair. “You can.” 

You found it difficult to form your words, and your mind raced. Would asking this cause a reaction you weren't prepared for? The Mandalorian was always collected, you'd never even heard him raise his voice. Your heart beat hard in your chest, as if to remind you that anywhere was better than where you were. 

Mando waited patiently for your response. You picked at your food, unsure if you could finish. 

“Why?” His helmet tilted, but he said nothing. You continued, “I just… I don't understand. Why would you help me?” 

“When I see a bird in a cage, why should I take pity when I could open the door?” Came the modulated reply. You felt your breathing grow more labored. It was difficult to get air into your lungs; they felt like they were on fire. “I will take you as far as I possibly can, if that's what you want.” 

“Helping me is probably going to do more harm than good,” you murmured. 

“Then let the consequences come, senaar. I stand by my decision.” 

Your heart pounded even harder, and you felt your cheeks flush. I stand by my decision. He wanted to help you. He was willing to put himself in harm's way for you. You swallowed, nervous and unsure of yourself. “I don't know how to thank you.”

He shook his head. “You don't have to thank me.”

“I do,” you insisted. “You've done more for me—”

He held up his hand, stopping you before speaking, “I've done the bare minimum of what you deserve.” He stood then, his form tall and imposing as he walked over to you. The man knelt down beside you, reaching to take the hand that had fallen into your lap. He held it firm, his gloves warm. “You deserve more than I can give, but I will try to help you in any way that I can.” 

Your cheeks were wet before you realized more fat drops had rolled from your eyes. 

“Thank you,” you said in earnest. “Even if I don't have to, I want to.”

He nodded, understanding shared between the two of you. Understanding that both of you are going to be in this for a while. Neither of you had a solid plan, but maybe that would be okay.

Maybe this time, life would work out.

•••

Hut'uun - coward

Cyar'ika - sweetheart

Senaar - bird