pedropascallme · 1 day ago
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☆Kinktober 2024☆
Day 22: Jealous sex
Pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader
Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) jealous!possessive!Din, degradation (Din calls reader a whore), fingering, dirty talk, lowkey a lot of fluff, if I missed anything please let me know!
In the Cantina, he seemed tense. If you could even call it that.
Really, was there ever a waking moment where Din didn’t look at least a little robotic beneath his armor? Holding himself up with rigid muscles to support the way he already towered over contacts and passersby?
Greef didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care. Most of his focus was on you, anyway.
“Always happy to have you around for a visit, little lady.” He’d said, the warm smile he always wore shining a little brighter when he’d seen you accompanying Din.
You tried to tune out their conversation. Per usual, it didn’t pertain to you—not in the way it did to Din, anyway; you’d know dates and times, but you didn’t much care to know whether a bounty would be brought in cold or not.
All that mattered to you was what system you’d be in and how long Din would be gone, and when that part of the conversation ended, so, too, did your interest.
But Karga always kept it interesting. Trying to include you, trying to include the kid; he cooed over the baby’s cradle, buying you a drink and offering to “buy Mando one just so you can have a little extra for coming all this way for business.”
Din’s hand never left your thigh, perched just under the hem of your dress.
And it didn’t really come off as anything out of the ordinary; on the contrary, it was one of the few subtle gestures of affection he allowed himself when outside the comfort of the ship.
But when you laughed at Greef’s jokes, Din’s fingers tightened; when you leaned in to listen to the hushed words Greef spoke over the table, Din’s hand moved upwards beneath the hem of your dress.
And that was new.
When you’d offered Greef a pat on the back that turned into a friendly hug goodbye as you prepared to leave, Din grunted out a low “Alright.”
And that was new, too.
When you began the trek back to the Crest, he was typically silent. There was no mention of what had happened at the cantina on Din’s part, and you followed suit, unsure if it was even worthy of bringing up.
He was certainly walking faster, though, as if the weight of the beskar suddenly disappeared. He seemed eager to get to the ship—which was understandable, meetings with Greef were always somewhat bleak, even when they were friendly.
After a drawn-out walk riddled with silence, the Crest was a welcome respite to your uncertainty.
You put the kid to bed, closing the top of his bassinet and letting it float idly in the kitchenette. You stood in your room, internally debating whether or not you wanted to find Din, wherever he had tucked himself away, or if you should give into the urge to fall asleep.
Your questions were answered when he walked in behind you, door closing after him.
“I don’t like the way he looks at you.” It was sudden and terse, spoken like a true Mandalorian.
“Who?” You turned yourself to look up at him, furrowing your brow and pairing it with a soft smile. “Greef?”
Silence. Then; “It’s unprofessional.”
“It’s unprofessional to bring your partner to a business meeting.” You countered with a smirk.
“It isn’t funny,” Din wasn’t going to let this go. “I think it’s…negligent.”
“On your part or his?” You continued to make light of his comments. “Din—it’s just Greef.”
“He’s not the only one.”
“Only one I’ve noticed,” you sighed, “And he’s old, Din, he’s being nice.”
“I’m old, cyare,” Din took a step forward and you smiled. “And I’ve noticed. Can’t go anywhere without people trying to break their neck to get a good look at you.”
“He’s older than you,” you clarified, “And they’re staring at the kid and his funny ears. Even if they were looking at me—I don’t care.”  
Din huffed beneath his helmet, and you could only imagine that he was rolling his eyes, frustrated by your lack of regard to his worry.
“Din…” now you took a step closer to him, “Are you jealous of the attention I get?” Your lip curled into a coy smile, pressing a hand to his armor-clad chest.
“No,” he let you touch him, “Irritated that people try to make a display of what’s mine.” He placed his hand over yours where it sat on his chest.
“Then do something about it.” You looked at his gloved hand engulfing your own.
There was another pause, longer this time, and it made you shift on your feet in anticipation. But Din didn’t keep you waiting, grabbing you by the waist and maneuvering you onto your back on the cot. Your legs hung over the edge, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to get a good look of him where he stood before you.
“Do something about it?” He asked, but not for an answer. “Do you need a reminder, mesh’la?”
“A reminder of what?” You played dumb.
“Need me to remind you whose you are?” He leaned forward, pushing your legs open with his knee and slotting his thigh between your legs. “Who you belong to…”
“I could—I could use a memory aid.” Your breath hitched when he pressed his thigh firmly against your clothed cunt.
Din’s head tilted down to look at you. “Figured.”
He finally put his hands on you after what felt like forever; undoing the buttons that lined the front of your dress with haste, rather than ease. He fumbled over some of them, opting to stop when he’d exposed your chest.
“Just—” he took a step back, hands finding your thighs and pulling. “Lift your hips.”
You obliged, moving your hips to give him the space to hike up your dress and strip you of your underwear. He threw it onto the bed, not focused on where it would land, without removing his gaze from you.
“What do you want? My mouth? Huh?” He reached under the hem of your half-buttoned dress and pressed his hand onto your stomach, just above where you needed him. “Tell me. Tell me so I can remind you how good I make you feel.”
“Anything,” you mumbled up at him. “You can do anything.” You rested your hand on top of his over your rumpled dress.
“You’re a whore,” he huffed a quick laugh. His hand slipped from under your dress, moving to join his other in removing his helmet. “You’re a greedy whore.” Unmodulated, the words still packed no bite—he was jealous, yes, but he didn’t mean what he said; he just knew they’d turn you into putty in his hands and get you to say what he wanted to hear.
“I’m your whore.” You smiled when the weight of the helmet fell onto the cot, gazing at him in admiration and lust. His eyes were just as blown out as yours, his hair messy and sticking to his forehead.
Din, in all his glory. Riled up and needy and yours.
He didn’t grace you with a response, kneeling in front of you and bringing his face to your cunt. His hands pushed against the skin of your inner thighs, encouraging you to keep your legs open for him as he licked a stripe up your slit.
“Would you let them taste you?” He mumbled, his tongue reaching your clit and flicking at it gently.
You whimpered a response. It wasn’t as if Din never went down on you—in fact, when he’d first taken his helmet off in front of you, it’s all he wanted to do for about a week—but in this state, the way he teased and the need in his words made you feel a hot ache in your core.
“Would you?” He pushed, moving his hand to graze gloved fingers over your cunt.
“No!” You gasped when he pushed a finger inside of you; the leather of his glove was warm and struggled against your walls, even dripping as you were.
But your gratification of being filled countered any discomfort, and a brief glance down at Din proved that he was just as entranced by the look as you were by the feeling.
“Only me,” he looked up at you through lidded eyes, lips parted to allow the words to come out in a gruff whisper. “Tell me.”
“Only you, Din,” you reached for him, trying to find his free hand to ground you to him. He allowed you to grab at his fingers, lacing them with yours. “I only ever want you.”
“Yes,” he breathed, clearly satisfied. Part of him, though, still wanted more, and he pushed another finger into you to watch your back arch. “Mine.”
“Yours,” you reassured, “I’m yours. Always.”
He growled then, no longer interested in drawing this out and staking his claim—he knew his jealousy was unwarranted, knew that you would always be his and he, in turn, would always be yours.
He just disliked the idea of anybody looking at you with malintent; hated the voice that crept into his head that perhaps someday it would be someone that could give you more, and that you’d see him for the washout he thought he was.
But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. You were his, always.
You said as much.
He sucked your clit between his lips, flicking his tongue over the swollen bud as he increased the pressure of the suction, curling his fingers into you.
You hooked a knee behind him, overwhelmed by the pleasure but still bent on feeling more of him. He grunted, increasing the pace at which he thrusted his fingers in and out of you, and your back arched off the cot in excitement.
“Cum,” he was practically begging, so eager to feel you clench his fingers and shake for him. “Cum for me. Show me you’re mine, cyar’ika.”
He pressed the pads of his fingers up and into the spongy spot he knew so well, watching you come undone for him.
“Din it’s—I—yes, yes…!” Your moans were breathy and barely coherent, focused only on the pleasure he provided. Your legs spasmed around him, walls squeezing his fingers, and he continued to lap at you through your high.
You tugged on his hair, overstimulated and exhausted. He took the hint, rising to sit on the edge of the bed and look over you.
“Would you let them make you cum like that?” He pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of your chest, licking over your nipple.
You shivered, cupping the back of his head.
“Couldn’t let them,” you sighed happily, “Nobody but you could ever make me cum like that.”
That earned you a soft growl, and he removed himself from your chest to kiss your jaw, stubble tickling your skin.
“That’s right.” He breathed against you, leaning back to lie down next to you sideways in the cot.
“Never have to worry,” you curled into him, “I’m yours, Din. There’s nobody else but you. There never will be.”
“I know, cyare,” he wrapped an arm around you, tugging you into him and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m yours.”
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wrathkitty · 2 hours ago
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Short Debts Make Long Friends - another Ch 23 snippet because the plot gremlins are cooperating at the WORST POSSIBLE TIME
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“Training or playtime?” Din inquires once the children are assembled before him.
Nobody answers. He attributes the nervous silence to Paz’s looming presence, but all seven helmets are looking straight at you – or rather, your hair.
“I know I’m new, but am I missing something?” you ask, perplexed.
Din’s mouth twitches into a faint smile.
“It’s your hair.” It is in its usual state at the end of the day, framing you in a half-mad riot of curls.
You automatically reach up to tug the elastic band from your ponytail. “Is it that bad?”
“No,” he answers hastily. “But it’s probably been awhile since some of them have seen anything like it.” 
You are already halfway through the process of retying your hair into a slightly tidier arrangement. 
“Oh." You blink. "Okay.”
The fraying elastic goes around your wrist instead, and the next moment you are kneeling to sit on the ground, masses of hair spilling down over both shoulders. 
“It’s okay,” you say earnestly, inviting the children closer. “My hair doesn’t bite. I bite,” you add conversationally, “but only if someone does it first.”
Your teasing remark draws a snicker or two, but Paz plants his between you and the foundlings, quelling their curiosity.
“She is aruetii,” he admonishes, looming over them. “Keep away.”
“I thought she was a guest,” one little girl objects; the child beside her pipes up with another, “Is that what’s wrong with her eye?”
“She is my guest,” Din says firmly. “The Armorer decreed it. She must be treated as such”
The girl sends you a hopeful look. “So we can talk to her?” 
“Yes –” “No –” both men say simultaneously.
“What’s wrong with her eye?”
“She has not taken the Creed, and wears no helmet,” Paz snarls at Din, speaking through clenched teeth.
“But she honors it,” Din insists.
“Honoring it with dalgaana in your bed doesn’t count,” Paz spits back.
Din’s face darkens to stone, but the tug at his cloak stops him from taking aim straight at Paz’s skull. He glances down, momentarily distracted. 
A child has materialized out of nowhere. 
“What’s a dalgaana?” she wants to know, tilting her head up to talk to him. 
“Prostitute,” another youngster helpfully supplies. 
Din looks accusingly back at Paz.
“WHAT’S WRONG WITH HER EYE?”
pleasepleasepleasedonthateme i just had an idea and 23 won’t be as good if I don’t put it in 😭
Link to main fic: Short Debts Make Long Friends - An over-educated, underpaid millennial finally gets to go on her first adventure.
@last-of-cheese
@ababysupernova
@onlydrawnbad
@myswficlist
@mariwinns16
@mandindjarin
@coffeebeforewater
@terecord
@leithatnight
@lokiofstoriesalwaysthemselves
@djarins-cyare
@shsoba05
@sleepingghoule444
@sjdraws-00
@dontletyourchildrenwatchthis
@moondirti
@teehee-47
@jbarness
@reileth
@mareebird
@essence-stealer
@itchyfly
@stagerightlauren
@jackieblogsstuff
@camishadjarin
@ellenmunn
@xoxo-lyss
@princessofclovers
@ezrasleftarm
@onlydrawnbadreads
@brighterthanlonelywords
@caffiend-queen
@dindenimchicken
@harriedandharassed
@everythingiwanttoread
@nightlore106
@senassn
@greensabereyesforcevictim
@chickenshit03
@anniet852
@dinnerisserveddjarin
@sixhours
@littlemisspascal
@din-djarins-spouse
@thedoctorknits
@smollucy18
@roughdaysandart
@breniii
@epple-benene
@feral-ferrule
@lindsaychops
@dear-ickis
@tobethlehem
@newpathwrites
@cas-readsandwrites
@littleredpandanaps
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ddejavvu · 8 months ago
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grumpy beefy mando falling for soft!reader in her “grandma era” - all she wants to do is crochet, bake and frolic around the galaxy with mando and grogu 🫶🏽
"He doesn't like hats."
You glance up at Din from where you're testing a length of crocheted stitches beneath Grogu's chin, ensuring that the hat inspired by the local flora of the forest planet you've found shelter on won't fall off if he gets too rigorous in his play.
Grogu coos beneath the flower hat, but whether it's in agreement or protest you can't tell.
"He likes this one," You decide, when the little green terror before you doesn't fight as you maneuver his ears through their designated slots, "And he doesn't have to wear it if he doesn't want to."
Your fingers slip the little white button through the slot you've left in the band, and the hat is secured around Grogu's chin; the cutest little flower you ever did see.
"Oh, honey," You gush, scooping the child up and tucking him into your arms, "You wanna see your hat? C'mere, let's look."
You crouch in front of the tree stump that Din has settled on, holding Grogu up to the man's beskar chest plate. It's freshly polished, but not completely reflective, so at the right angle, Grogu catches a blurry, slightly distorted version of himself in a very pink hat.
His legs are still too small to kick in excitement, but his arms pick up the slack, flapping about while copious amounts of baby babble streams from his mouth. Evidently he's pleased with your handiwork.
Din stays silent while he offers his armor up for Grogu's viewing pleasure, but the child's hands soon find the soft strap beneath his chin and tug.
"I told you he didn't like hats..." Din murmurs, not to be cruel, but to fill empty space in the air when your shoulders deflate slightly.
"I thought he'd like it if it was softer," You hum sadly, helping Grogu take the button out of its clasp so that he can tug the hat off of his head, "I just figured he didn't like the helmet you gave him because it was uncomfortable."
As soon as you've freed Grogu from the confines of his flowery prison his hands slap against the shiny metal of Din's armor. He takes the child out of your hands but Grogu keeps his hat tightly clutched in his fist, and, with valiant effort, pushes the hat into Din's helmet, insistently cooing something that sounds suspiciously like buir.
Your giddiness returns, and you circle Din like a hawk, "Oh, you want your buir to wear it? Let's see," Amidst Din's protests you balance the too-small cap on his helmet, and he stills if only to save the hat from slipping and dying a muddy death on the ground below.
"It doesn't fit me." He grumbles, body stiff as he keeps it balanced on his head. Grogu seems pleased with his buir's new headpiece, squealing and showing off his newly-emerged teeth in a grin.
"I'll make you a matching one!" You declare, snatching the hat off of his helmet to give him the freedom of movement again, "Grogu, baby, what color should Din's be?"
"Bah!" Grogu decides, and your steps still where you're racing back towards your shelter.
"Uh... how about purple?" You suggest, and another resounding 'Bah.' is all the encouragement you need.
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whocaresstillthelouvre · 3 months ago
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Fifteen Weeks
Din Djarin x Cam Girl Reader AU
Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI)  Summary: It's been fifteen weeks since Din Djarin first entered your life, now you can't imagine it without him. You take a leap of faith in your relationship and visit him at his farm. Warnings: Smut, loss of virginity, face sitting, premature ejaculation, unprotected p in v sex (reader is tested and has an IUD, protect yourselves IRL), mentions of sex work, anxiety, Din is bad at feelings, farmhouse emotions, goats!, yes I made Din Djarin a schnauzer owner don't judge me. Words: 5,050
A/N: Here it is folks, the follow up to Fifteen Minutes, which I originally wrote as a standalone. Thank you to @goodwithcheese for speaking so highly about Fifteen Minutes thus making me revisit this draft and finally finish it. I also want to thank @frannyzooey for taking a look at the bare bones of this months ago. I really love these two and I’m so glad they finally get to eat soup together.
Masterlist
___
“So, where ya’ headed?” the Uber driver asks, turning toward the departures terminal.
“Just to see a... friend."
“Hm. Must be a special friend to catch a flight this early.” 
“I guess he is,” you smile through a yawn.
___
Waiting to board. Can’t wait to finally see you! xxxx🙂
Hitting the send button, you shake your head still finding it hard to believe you’re traveling almost halfway across the country to meet a man. A man you’ve fallen head over heels for.
Can��t wait to see you too. See you soon.
His response arrives just in time. A nervous rush of excitement courses through your body before turning your phone off for departure. 
You wonder if your seatmate can feel your leg shake as the nerves tap out against the plane floor. Sure, you’re excited, you’re ready to meet Din in person but there still is trepidation twisting inside of you. You’ve never done anything like this at all. You’ve never met a client and now you’re on a plane headed to one. You’ve known him for only four months, but the connection the two of you share is something you’ve never believed to be something you’d find. You’ve dealt with enough men wearing wedding bands who tell you they love you, that you’re the most beautiful woman they’ve seen, that you’re their whole world. Love is a ridiculous concept when you charge ten dollars a minute. 
With Din, it’s different, it’s something that can be named, can be felt, can be solved, and yet so many questions about it remain. What do you call the quiet silence that exists between the two of you, happy to be on the phone keeping each other company every night? The small laugh and head shake he does whenever you tell him he’s cute? The random texts of his life that always brightens your day? The way he nods with zero judgment when he hears the ding of your new client alert? What do you call the decision that got you here on this plane? 
You read the same page over and over in your book. Will you sleep in his bed tonight? 
You give up on reading and stare forward at the little map on the seat screen. What does he smell like?
You look out the window and watch the clouds disintegrate around you. Is he just as nervous as you?
You turn the volume up and try to drown out your racing thoughts. Will this all be worth it?
Two hours left to find out. 
___
You step off the escalator, eyes scanning the crowded baggage claim area for the reason why you’ve taken a six hour flight halfway across the country. Your hands grip the backpack strap tighter trying to calm the nerves overtaking your heart and brain.
There, right there, leaning against a column alone in the shadows is Din and the brown eyes you’ve only dreamt of seeing in real life. He straightens when you make eye contact, but makes zero attempt to move, still frozen against the column. You lose the fight to hide your smile and excitement hurriedly shuffling over to him, he smiles as you get closer, the same shy half grin he gives when he says good night. His hands slip out of his pockets as you approach. Goodness, he’s so big and handsome, he could be a heartbreaker of all sorts to anybody he sets his sights on. The phone doesn’t do his beauty any justice.
“Hi,” you smile.
“H-hey, I can’t believe you’re… here,” his voice sounds even smoother and deeper in person.
“I am,” you shuffle on your feet. Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.
He tucks his hands back into his hoodie pocket, his silent rejection shoots a pang of longing through you. 
You thought it’d play out like a grand romantic movie, you’d jump into his outstretched arms and he’d never let go. Din’s rejection fills you with jealousy… screw all of the happy couples. You hate those movies now.
Touch me.
Of course he’s nervous, you’re nervous too, you’re just better at hiding it. He still leans against the column, shielded by the liminal space.
“Do you have luggage?” He’s right in front of you and yet you’re too scared to touch him, too anxious you’ll scare him away. 
“Nope, just my backpack and carry-on.” 
Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.
“Oh, okay, did you want to leave then?”
“I didn’t come here to see the airport Din,” you place a hand on his hoodie clad arm. He looks down and stares. 
Did you overstep? You couldn’t have, you just watched this same man orgasm for you last night while chanting how he couldn’t wait to paint you with his cum. 
“Din,” you snap him out of his stare, “come on, I’m ready to leave.” 
You know he’s not trying to reject you, but his nervous aloofness is overwhelming when all you want is for him to touch you… just once. 
“I—uh, here, let me take your bags,” he mumbles, reaching past you to grab your suitcase. “It’s really cold, do you have a heavier jacket?” 
“No, but I’ll be okay,” you reassure. The cold won’t sting nearly as much as Din’s seemingly innocent rejection.  
“Here,” he pulls the collar of his hoodie over his head. “I’m used to this cold. You aren’t.” 
You take the bundle of black fabric from his outstretched hand, not realizing just how cold you were until you put the hoodie warmed by his body heat on. It smells of him. Faint hints of campfire, wood, leather, citrus, and cinnamon. You wish you were wrapped up in Din himself, touching him, smelling him, tasting him. Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.
“Thank you,” you whisper. Whatever is happening inside of him seems to be bleeding over into your mind. You’re now second guessing every decision to come here. He was excited last night, he texted you this morning how he couldn’t wait to see you, is he disappointed? 
“Yeah, of course,” he nods and turns towards the door, walking away in quick strides leaving you alone in the dark corner near that damn column he’d rather touch than you. He has your suitcase and backpack, so either this is a really expensive way to get robbed or he has zero clue how his actions are affecting you. 
He turns back to you as he reaches the automatic doors, his eyes wide with guilt when he spots you still standing in the same place he left you. Well, at least he feels bad. 
You let a deep breath out to steel yourself and walk to him.
“I-I’m sorry, just not used to ever having to… you know…”
“I know, it’s okay Din,” you gently smile. What in the world have you gotten yourself into?
“I’m just—“
“Nervous. I know Din, it’s okay. I understand this is a lot.”
“It is, but just… know that how I’m acting is not how I’m feeling. I’m really happy to have you here. You’re so… beautiful and I—thank you for being here with me.”
There it is. Everything is worth it now. The early morning Uber to the airport, the neverending TSA line, the cramped airplane seat, the nervousness you feel. You’d do it all again to hear that sentence. 
“Of course, I know. You’re okay,” you take his hand. If he’s not going to do it, you’ll do it. “Come on, let’s go.” 
His eyes stay downcast staring at your hand wrapped around his.
You clear your throat to get his attention, his eyes snap up to yours. “Din, let’s go.”
“R-right. Of course. Right.” 
He leads you out the door, gripping your hand harder when the bitter wind lashes against your skin. 
The two of you weave your way through the parking lot until you reach a large silver truck. It’s clean with a few dents and scratches. Well taken care of but old. 
Din opens the creaky door and helps you step up. The black leather seat is smooth as you slide across it.
Din places your luggage in the back before opening his door and deftly stepping in. 
You hide a deep exhale when he starts the engine.
He clears his throat and you look over. “It’s–uh nice to see you in here.”
“I’m glad,” you smile, turning and reaching your hand out to touch his cheek. Your thumb finds the little heart patch on the side of his face, you’ve been thinking about how it’d feel since you first saw it. You can’t help yourself, he looks so delicate, as if he’s aching to be touched but too scared to ask for it. You’re holding a scared fawn in your hands. Don’t scare him, don’t move too quickly, let him figure things out on his own. 
His lips part as he inhales, deep brown eyes staring into yours, the nervousness radiating off his skin fills the truck cabin. You wish you could just throw caution to the wind and force him to tell you exactly how he’s feeling, to slide across the bench seat and beg him to take you right here in this airport parking lot. You don’t. You pull your hand away and put your seatbelt on.
“I can’t wait to see your home. I’ve never been to an actual farm before.”
___
You’ve seen glimpses of Din’s home in random pictures he’s texted you or your nightly FaceTime sessions, but you never imagined just how picturesque it could be. A large white two story farmhouse situated in the middle of a vast expanse of green grass, a small tin roofed barn sits to the side with a herd of goats happily grazing. Din’s life must be so peaceful here, very different compared to your townhouse in the middle of suburbia.
“It’s beautiful,” you muse as he pulls into the driveway. “I can understand why you never wanted to leave.” 
The truck stops in front of his home, a german shepherd and a little schnauzer run down the porch steps and head for Din’s truck.
“They’ll be fine with you, but let me get out so I can control them.” 
Din gets out of the truck, you chuckle to yourself as his clipped directions to the dogs are drowned out by excited barks. 
He opens your door and reaches his hand out.
“Grogu! Boba! Back!” Din shouts as he helps you step down. His raised voice makes your heart skip a beat. You didn’t know he could ever be this loud.
“It’s okay, I like your dogs, you know I think they’re cute,” you bend down and tap on your knees to beckon them over. “This must be Grogu,” you scratch his soft ears. “He does have big ears.”
“They’re not that used to other people.”
“Hmm,” you stand up and pat the top of Boba’s head, “sounds like someone I know.”
He chuckles as he walks up the porch steps and unlocks the front door. 
Warmth fills your body as you walk over the threshold. White walls, worn floorboards, antique furniture, all of it taken care of and clean. Tidy and well kept up, a lot like his truck, aged but in better shape and made to last; a far change from your newbuild townhouse and IKEA furniture. 
“Diiin,” you breathe, “it’s beautiful in here. Like… I knew you lived in a nice house, but wow, between this and the farm… when do you sleep?”
“I sleep enough. I’ll go get your bags, make yourself… at home.”
You take a seat on his couch, it’s perfect for him. Beige, simple lines, nothing fancy, not too comfortable, but probably the height of cozy after a long day working on a farm. Grogu jumps up and sits next to you, his little bearded face panting happily next to yours. You scratch his chest and praise him as he inches closer towards you. Boba stays near the entry, waiting for Din.
“Think he likes you,” Din says as he places your bags by the steps. “Don’t take Boba’s standoffishness personally he’s–”
“Like you. I know,” you smile.
“Did– what would you like to do?”
“Can I see the computer where you first talked to me?”
“Um, yeah,” he walks down the hallway leaving you behind yet again, “it’s just in here.”
You shake your head and rise off the couch to follow, obviously he’s not used to company.
You walk into a small office, everything has a place, efficient and tidy, perfectly Din. Paperwork stacked in neat stacks, a calendar with his sharp writing all over it hung on the wall, today’s date circled with your name written in the box. 
A black monitor sits on a mahogany desk. 
“This is the computer, huh?” you ask, running your hands across the black keyboard,
“It is.”
“So this is where it all began? You sat there, clicked on my picture, and now look. I remember when I first heard your voice,” you face him taking both of his hands in yours, “it was so deep and warm, it lit something inside of me.”
You guide his arms to wrap around you, his hands rest on your lower back.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you after our first session ended. There was something so pure and mysterious about you, I knew you weren’t lying about wanting to know. It wasn’t some kink you had, I knew you needed help. I felt lucky to be the one to show you.” 
He sighs as you rest your head against his chest hearing the rhythm of his heart. “I closed that window so many times before finally agreeing and joining. I-I kept on thinking about how I could talk to someone as beautiful as you, all it would take is just a click. You were so pretty.” 
“Just a click,” you whisper, craning your neck up as Din lowers his head. His nose bumps against yours, his plush bottom lip is captured between your lips, another part of him you’ve wanted to touch since you first saw him. You finally kiss him, sweet and tender, his lips molding to yours perfectly. He pulls you in closer, his tongue hesitantly dipping into your mouth as you lick against him. The past fifteen weeks have finally led to this moment inside of this old farmhouse office in the middle of nowhere. Your Din and his soft lips, tense hands against your back, your soft coos mingling with his low groans, you could stay in this moment forever, if it wasn’t for Din’s phone beeping in his pocket. 
“I’m sorry,” he pulls away, a bashful smile adorns his face, “I need to go take care of the goats before sundown.”
“Of course.” 
He hugs you, planting a soft kiss against your forehead and inhaling your scent before leaving. He’s warming up…
___
Din loves soup. You know this by the nights you spend with him over the phone. The man eats soup almost every single night. Soup with bread, soup and a baked potato, soup and steak, soup, soup, soup. 
You can’t blame him, the stew and homemade rolls he serves you for dinner are delicious. He shyly tells you it’s his speciality when he places the porcelain bowl in front of you. 
You could get used to the farm life. A fire burns in the fireplace while the tv plays Din’s favorite movie he’s been wanting to show you, some film about a galaxy far far away and an unlikely hero. The man loves space. 
His arm slung across your shoulder lies heavily on you, warming you inside and out. Grogu sleeps on your lap, softly snoring as you pet his gray fur. Din occasionally sneaks a kiss against your hair, you don’t know if you’ve ever been more comfortable in your life. 
The movie ends, a grand symphonic score plays over the credits. 
“That was really good,” you smile towards Din. “I liked it.”
A grin slowly stretches across his face. “Yeah?” 
“Yeah, thank you for showing me it.”
“You’re welcome,” he gazes at you, the same look he smolders through the phone, like he can’t believe his luck that you’re talking to him. 
You attempt to fight a yawn and lose. Your eyes blink tiredly at Din when he reaches and rubs his thumb against your cheek. 
“Did you want to,” he clears his throat, “sleep in my room with me tonight?”
“Only if you want me to Din.”
“I, uh, I do.”
“Okay, I’d like that.”
___
The airplane and long day washes off and rinses down Din’s shower drain. You use his washcloth and think of his hands touching you. You smell his soap and think of inhaling the scent as he holds you close. You don’t know what’s about to happen once you leave this room. If you’re this nervous, how does he feel? 
Din looks up from the book he’s reading and watches you step out of the bathroom shyly padding over and getting into bed.
“What are you reading?” you whisper.
“Some book about a cowboy warrior in space…”
“Sounds interesting.”
“It’s good.”
“You know,” you look around the simple bedroom, “I see this room all the time, but only the wall behind your bed, hardly anything else. It’s been really nice seeing more of your life.”
He nods, blinking back to his book. 
The night can’t end like this. 
You grab the book from his hands and place it on the table.
“What are you thinking about Din? I never know what’s going on inside of you.”
“H-how pretty you look wearing that.” 
You look down at the pink silk tank top and shorts and swallow down a smile. You specifically wore it because you know how Din’s eyes light up whenever you put it on. “It’s my favorite because it’s so soft. Do you want to feel it?” 
He turns to you wide-eyed and gives you a solitary nod. 
“Go ahead Din.”
His tan hand splays across your stomach, golden toned skin rests against the blushy silk of your tank.
“S’soft,” he murmurs to himself.
“Here,” you place your hand over his and press down, “really feel it.”
His eyes angle down watching your hand navigate his around your stomach to just below your breasts. His mouth sits slightly agape, thick brows furrowing in concentration as you slip his hand underneath the fabric, his trembling calloused fingers making contact with your skin. 
“Am I soft here Din?”
“Y-Yes,” he stammers. 
“Touch me, as little or as much as you want. Wherever you’re comfortable doing, okay?” you remove your hand from his. “I came here for you… whatever you want… I want..”
“I want to,” he gulps, “I want to touch you all over.”
“I’m all yours baby.” 
His shoulders deflate with a groan, he trails his hand higher to cup one of your breasts. The tips of his fingers peek out of the top of your tank. Tan, well worked strong hands lay against your smooth skin. The sight makes you moan, your teeth gnawing at your lip, trying to qualm the temptation to touch him further. 
“Take it off Din.” His dark brown eyes beam up to yours. “Go ahead baby.” 
He grabs the hem of your tank top, softly bundling it in his hands and lifting it over your head leaving you bare chested. 
“Kiss me and touch me baby,” you gently will. 
His lips form over yours, his hands return to your skin, petting and caressing your breasts before you cover them, pushing them farther down your stomach. His breaths quicken against your mouth when you slip his hands underneath the band of your shorts. 
“Fuck,” he pants against your lips when his hand meets the wetness seeping from your pussy. “Fuuuuuck.” 
“You feel me baby? That’s how wet you always make me, ever since the first time we talked and all you were was a black square with a sexy voice. It’s like we were destined in the stars.” 
“God damnit, you’re so soft,” Din’s hips buck into the air, his head thuds against the headboard when his thick finger slips in between your folds. “I-I-I oh god, I’m– I think I’m going to cum. I’m sorr–” 
“It’s okay baby, I’m here, cum for me.” Your hand reaches down and grips his hard cock through his black sweatpants. “Cum for me Din.” 
You feel a warm wet spot spread against your hand, pulling a moan from you.. 
“I’m--agh– sorry,” his big eyes stare at you, a hint of shame rounds them. “You feel so amazing.” He pulls his hand out of your shorts.
“No,” you whimper at the loss of contact. “I like it baby, I like that you like me so much that happened. Please don't apologize. Keep touching me if you want to. Do you?” 
“God,” his eyes shrink in determination, “yes I do.” 
“Okay baby.”
You sit in between his stretched out legs, lifting your hips to take off your shorts, spreading your legs wide, much the same way you do for your clients. 
He stares at your exposed skin, eyes mapping every dip, curve and dimple of your body. 
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “I can’t believe you’re here… for me.”
“Of course I am baby.” 
His fingers trace the plains of your legs, moving their way up to your thighs. His face set in a determinative scowl, eyes fixated on your core as he inches closer to it, now aching and soaked for him. 
“I-I’ve never done this.”
“I know baby, you remember our first call?” 
He nods.
“Remember what I told you what I liked?”
Another nod.
“Do that for me baby, touch me. Make me feel good.” A thick finger meets your lips, tracing a line up from your entrance to your clit before softly rubbing a circle around your sensitive nub. He remembered.
“You’re so wet for me,” he breathes out, his eyes staying planted staring at your pussy beguiled by his own actions.
“I am Din, only for you. I think about you every time. I-I,” you moan when he sticks a finger inside, slowly pumping it in and out, “I only want you.” 
“Only want you too, baby. C-can I taste you?”
“Ye–oh my god, yes Din, I’m yours, do whatever you want to me.” 
“I’m yours, anything you wa–”
“Sit on my face,” he growls. 
“O-of course.” 
You crawl towards him, leaving a chaste kiss on his lips before straddling his face, your dripping cunt hovers right over his mouth. He grips your ass and pulls you down, smothering himself with all of your slickness. You cover him like a mask, he worships your taste like a religion, moaning and groaning into your sweet pussy. Your praises about how good he’s doing and how amazing you feel incant out of your mouth as he takes you to paradise. Plush lips suck and savor you, your hands grip the bed frame like a precious artifact, his devotion to you and your pleasure pulls a melting orgasm from you. 
“Din, Din, Din,” you pray at his altar, knees bowed and quaking against his ears as he drinks your offering down. You’re shattered, everything you’ve ever believed in replaced by Din and his idolatry of you. 
You move your lust drunk body off and lay down next to Din. His face shines with a gloss of you, his tongue peeks out and licks his lips, before sending you a shy smile.
“You’re amazing,” he incredulously mutters. 
“You are too,” a doting grin lights your face before pulling him in for a kiss. You can taste yourself on him, a moan leaves your throat at the realization. 
Strong arms envelop you, pulling you closer to him, his hard cock juts against the soft skin of your thigh. 
“Already?” you pull back and tease. 
“C-can I feel you?” 
“Feel me?” 
“Yes, c-can I… can we….?”
A rush of anticipation thrums through your body at the implication of his nervousness.
“Yes Din, we can. Are you sure this is what you want tonight? We can wait.”
“N-no. I want you, I-I want this,” he moves his sweatpants down, kicking them off. 
“Okay baby, okay,” you kiss him, grabbing his face, petting the soft hair of his sparse beard.
He rolls on top of you, cradling your head between his strong forearms, a heated kiss licks into your mouth as his naked weight covers you. Your legs open in a silent offer for Din to take everything you have. You can just feel the heft of his cock ghosting against your entrance. 
He looks down at you, brown eyes wide, plush mouth parted, brows softened with adoration. 
You send him a silent nod and smile when his cock enters you, feeling a sense of honor that you’re the one Din has chosen for this. You wouldn’t have it any other way. The green accept button, the reserved man dressed in all black, the deep voice, the connection between two screens. Now, you’re here with Din, moaning and rolling your hips to accept the length of him.
His neck strains when he sheathes his cock fully inside of you, panting and groaning as he slowly rocks back and forth.
“You … feel … like … heaven… I love your pussy… I love your body…. I… love you.”
He freezes at the divulgence, body locked in shock at his slip. 
Your face lifts in a reassuring grin. “I love you too,” your hand grabs his chin, bringing his lips to yours. 
You love him, you’ve known it for so long, but here in this farmhouse bed you can hear it, you can feel it. 
Your bodies meld, hips meeting, lips locked, he gives you everything, you give him everything. Your pussy clenches around his slow, full strokes. This is making love. 
“Baby, I-I.. I’m going t–” he strains. 
“Go ahead Din, I got you.” Your hands trail up and down the expanse of his smooth back. He grunts, burying his head into the crook of your neck, fevered breaths hit your skin as his cum fills you.
He rolls off, pulling you to his side and kissing the top of your hair. 
“Wow… I.. are you okay?”
“What?” your head perks up.
“You didn’t… uh–”
“I did when you fucked me with your tongue Din, I’m very happy and satisfied.” 
“Oh, I just… I want to make sure you’re good.”
“Baby, I am very good. Trust me.” 
“I love you,” he breathes.
“I love you too Din…” you rest your head against his chest, the exhaustion of the day settling in, quickly lulling you to sleep. This is the way to go to bed.
___
The faint sound of running water gently rouses you from the most peaceful slumber you’ve had. The sun has barely peaked over the horizon, the room’s still shrouded in a lazy darkness. 
Din’s long sigh echoes against the tiles of the shower like a siren song. 
You pad out of bed toward the bathroom, pushing the door wide open. 
Your mouth drops at the sight ahead of you… Din’s muscular, toned golden body shines underneath a glistening sheen of water. He runs a gray wash rag across his stomach, the mop of dark, curly hair right underneath his hand beckons you to look farther down. You’ve seen him so many times before, almost every night, but this is the first time you’ve been able to see all of him in person. Din is a big man, his cock matches his stature. Just as long, just as broad, just as golden. God, he’s gorgeous. 
You knock on the doorframe catching his attention, surprise tensing across his whole body. 
“Good morning,” you purr, “can I join you?”
He nods, his cock grows visibly hard when you walk over and get in. The warm steam, Din’s naked body, and the smell of Din’s cedar body wash engulfs you, this is the way to wake up. 
“Mmm, the hot water feels good,” you sigh, leaning your head against his chest. Din’s cock rests heavily in between you, tempting you to touch it. “Want me to wash you?”
He groans a yes. 
“You can wash me too,” you propose, squeezing a dollop of body wash onto your palm, running it across your chest before leaving suds on your hands. “Go ahead Din.”
Drops of water land against your skin as his trembling hands slowly reach for your breasts. He massages and kneads, both palms laying against your tits, his touch turns more searing when your hands land on his chest, rubbing in the soap along the dusting of hair stretched across his broad body. 
Your nipples pebble under his nervous, firm touch and undivided attention. He hisses when your hands slink farther down, running across the damp curls of his happy trail leading you to his cock standing between his thighs, thick and dripping. You wrap a fist around his length, his knees weaken causing his body to smash against the wall, his face grimacing in pleasured agony.
“Fuck,” he pants, water rains down into his wide open mouth, splashing out with every exclamation of your name he repeats as he cums all over your stomach. 
Your tongue runs up the column of his neck to his mouth, swallowing his rapid breaths. 
“You feel so good against me,” he gasps against your lips. “I can’t believe you’re here.” 
“I am baby, I am,” you coo, wrapping your arms around him, wishing you could live in this tiny shower forever. This is the way to wake up.
___
Din settles on the porch swing next to you, pulling your blanket wrapped body close to him. 
“Is this what you do every morning?” 
“Just about,” he says before taking a drink of his coffee. 
“It’s nice,” you yawn, “early but nice.” 
He chuckles, “You get used to it.” “Mm,” you rest your head on his chest, smelling the fresh dew and hay on his flannel jacket. 
“I really like you being here,” he softly says.
“I really like being here too.”
“You know,” he gulps, “you can do your job here… with me.”
___
A/N: Thank you for reading! This ending makes me feel:
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theidiotwhowritesthings · 2 years ago
Text
Familiar & Unfamiliar
din djarin x female!reader
warning: attempted sexual assault (not by our boy mando, and i don’t describe it in depth the furthest it goes is non-consensual kissing), light smut, angst then comfort, then fluff fluff fluff, identity theft, mentions of slave trade, canon violence, dom!din trying hard to be sub!din for you, he doesn’t succeed for long
word count: 4,174
Summary: You travel the galaxy with a Mandalorian who is much softer than his impenetrable beskar would lead others to believe. He leaves you with his son to search for a Quarry, but it’s not the Mando you’ve come to know and love who returns to you.
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“It shouldn’t take long.” Mando hummed as he collected his gear from his weapon’s storage. You sat cross legged on the Razor Crest’s floor with the child in your lap. His small green hand played with the small, metal ball he seemed to always find. Your hand stroked his ears only stopping to push the ball away from his mouth when he began to try and chew on it. Mando turned around to stare down at you. “Will you be alright here?”
After traveling with the Mandalorian for the last two months, babysitting and completing repairs on the ship, you had finally grown accustomed to the silver beskar covered man. Initially it had been difficult for you to even look at the man for longer than a second⏤ too intimidated by the black t-shape visor that stared back at you. However, joining him had been your only option at the time, an act of self preservation, so you had to push your fear aside. Luckily, you had quickly learned that though the metal he was covered in was impossible to penetrate, the man underneath was as soft as they come.
You learned that the solemn, silent, and dangerous facade Mando wore was more or less an interpretation of what people saw. Yes, he was dangerous. You had seen him wrestle quarries three time his size and come out unscathed, but you had also seen him humming a song under his breath while giving the child a bath. You had seen Mando go out of his way to purchase you a new pair of boots in the market simply because he noticed your discomfort with your current pair. The brief times you felt his touch, a brush against your arm or a hand on your back, it was soft and comforting. His eyes were impossible to see behind his helmet, but you could feel the care in his gaze. Having Mando’s attention on you felt like safety.
Mando called out your name and you blinked in surprise. “Oh, um, yeah! We’ll be fine, don’t worry.”
“I shouldn’t be gone long. Days at most.” He reassured before you could even ask. You stood up and Mando drifted closer⏤ his gloved hand reached out brush the child’s head. Mando chuckled when his son cooed and giggled in response. You heard a long time ago that the best judge of a person’s character was how they treated animals and children. Mando passed that test with flying colors. “You remember the rules?”
“Hmm, no running with scissors?” You joked. Mando tilted his head and you chuckled. “Don’t open the Razor Crest’s ramp for anyone but you, and if I do have to leave for some emergency, get to a crowded spot with plenty of witnesses and talk to no one. Not until you come for us.”
Mando nodded in approval. He gave the child’s head one last pet along the ears and as his hand pulled away you felt his leather covered fingers drag down the length of your bare arm. Heat crept up the back of your neck and you prayed to any deity that was listening that Mando hadn’t heard the hitch in your breath. You were not attracted to your metal armored Mandalorian employer and friend. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. 
Without another word, Mando made his way to the back of the cargo hold. He opened the ramp before heading down and you called out for him to be careful. Mando glanced over his shoulder, at you and the child, and you waved. You stood at the cargo hold’s edge as Mando pressed a button on his gauntlet and the ramp began to rise. As the metal door rose, you stared at the mandalorian’s back until the ramp cut him off from sight.
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Din was more distracted than usual and he told himself it wasn’t because of the newest addition to the Razor Crest. It obviously wasn’t because of you. No, he was just busy with all the bounties he was juggling and the stress of trying to find the child’s people. Then the added dilemma of his current quarry. Already he had been on the flesh trader’s trail for three days. Three full days. That was nothing in comparison to past hunts that would take him weeks on end, but Din found his patience wearing very, very thin.
“Are you ready yet, mate?” A voice asked through the closed door. 
Din had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. His only lead came from a mercenary who was hunting an Inner Rim politician that had come all the way out here to participate in the slave trade. It was the only access Din would have to get into the market to find his quarry and it came at a cost. Din glanced down at the helmet held in his hands. It was an oddly shaped red thing from Kaleesh culture. His new mercenary partner made it very clear that if he walked in as a Mandalorian everything would be lost. On any normal bounty Din would’ve risked it anyways. There was very little in the galaxy that could coax him out of his armor, leave him bare to the world, but a child in danger did it. 
A mother had come to him after he searched for a lead in the local cantina on his first night. She had fallen to her knees in front of him and begged for his help⏤ she offered everything she owned and more in return. Her only child, an eleven year old little girl, had been stolen away from her. Dragged to the flesh market to be sold. Din swore to her that he’d bring her back. On his word as a Mandalorian, she would be reunited with her daughter. He just wasn’t allowed to do it looking like a Mandalorian.
“Seriously, mate, we’re going to be late!” Trigg, the mercenary, barked once more.
Din settled the helmet over his head and shifted uncomfortably. It didn’t fit quite like his real one did, but it was tight enough that he wasn’t worried about it falling off in the heat of battle. For a second, he just stared at himself in the mirror. Red armor of cloth and leather covered every inch of his skin, black gloves pulled on tight, and his oddly shaped helmet covered his face entirely. Din hated it more than anything. But, the sooner he saved the girl and caught his quarry, the sooner he could return to his ship. Return to the child and you.
“I’ll be right out.” Din called back. He settled all his beskar armor pieces into the tarp bag he had borrowed from the child’s mother. It was her home they were using as a base of sorts. Din hid the bag in the closet of the room behind a stack of boxes. It made him anxious to leave his armor behind, but he forced himself to step away and open the door.
Trigg stood in the hall wearing his own personal gear. The blond man had scars from a raking claw on the side of his head leaving those patches with sparse hair. His arms were crossed over his chest and he stared at Din in a mix of annoyance and impatience. “Finally. Did you have to do your hair?”
“It’s you we’re waiting on now.” Din replied dryly as he marched past the man to the door.
The sooner, the better.
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Night had fallen for the third night of Mando being gone. It was too soon for you to be worried about him, but a ball of anxiety still sat in your gut. He had been away for longer periods of time before. The longest thus far being three weeks. You were mumbling a soft song under your breath as you rocked the child to sleep. When his eyes drifted close, you carefully set him in the hammock above Mando’s bunk and tucked a blanket around him. 
When you were certain that the kid was settled, you drifted toward the fresher to get ready for bed yourself. You wondered what it would take to convince Mando to pick up a bounty on a planet with an ocean soon. Going from the lava plains of Nevarro to the deserts of Tatooine and now this dusty Outer Rim world was bleak. You missed water. You had grown up near a river on your homeworld and spent a decent amount of time there. It wasn’t until you saw dry planet after dry planet that you truly began to appreciate natural bodies of water.
You shrugged out of your clothes, tossing them aside, and slid into a pair of shorts and one of Mando’s shirts. It had been borrowed early on in your travels and now it belonged more to you than it did him. The dark shirt was large enough to cover most of your shorts. You had been in the middle of washing your face when you heard the tell tale sound of the ramp. Quickly, you grabbed a towel and dried your face while rushing out of the fresher.
Mando was walking up the ramp just as you entered the cargo hold and you shot him a smile, “Hey, Mando.” He came to a sudden stop. You glanced around but saw no evidence of a quarry behind or near him. Had they gotten away? “What happened with the quarry?”
The Mandalorian crossed his arms and a nervous energy settled over your skin. The way he stood just seemed…off. And, the silence that surrounded him wasn’t the usual comfortable quiet you had grown used to. Mando’s helmet tilted some, as if his eyes were raking over your form, and you tugged on the bottom of your shirt anxiously. This was an outfit you wore to sleep every night on the Razor Crest, but right now was the first time you felt uncomfortable having it on around Mando.
“Are you⏤Are you injured?” You asked.
Mando strolled closer to you. Another bit of him that wasn’t right⏤ his gait. As you tried to gather your thoughts, he came to a stop right in front of you. Nearly chest to chest. A lump had formed in your throat, mouth dry, and you tried to swallow it down. Being around Mando always made your stomach feel as if it were filled with butterflies, made your heart race out of your chest, made an addicting warmth pool in your core. 
That was not how you felt right now.
Your hand reached out, as quickly as you could manage it, and slammed against the lock button of Mando’s bunk. The metal door slid down. It clicked into place, and the Mandalorian in front of you grabbed you by the throat and shoved you back until you slammed into the Razor Crest’s wall. You clawed at the familiar, gloved hand tightening around your throat as a low, unfamiliar chuckle rumbled through the modulator.
“What’s wrong, baby?” A voice that did not belong to your Mandalorian asked. “Aren’t you happy to see me? You were a minute ago.”
“Wh⏤Who⏤” You tried to spit out but you could barely breathe let alone form words.
“I’m your Mandalorian, baby.” The cruel laugh coming out from behind the t-shape visor you found comfort in felt so very wrong. He yanked you off the wall and released your throat. You managed to gasp a single breath of air before he backhanded you across the face hard enough to see stars. You fell to your knees and elbows roughly, a cry of pain leaving your lips, but you struggled to find a weapon of any kind. “That’s right. Crawl away, baby. Run. I’m a Mandalorian who likes to hunt, and now you’re my prey. How’s that sound?”
Your hand found a screwdriver, lying off to the side where you had been working on something under the floorboard earlier, just as he kicked you in the side to flip you over. The imposter knelt on the ground over you and you tried to stab him where only the flight suit sat. Unfortunately, he turned fast enough that the screwdriver struck beskar and did absolutely nothing. He laughed once more as you gave up the attack to try and slip away, but he grabbed your hands by the wrist and pinned you to the ground. The imposter sat on top of your thighs, kneeling over you, and you were forced to stare at your reflection in Mando’s armor.
It would be a bold faced lie for you to say you hadn’t daydreamed about having the beskar armor on top of you⏤ the weight of it pressing into you in every delicious way you could think of. But not like this. Not with a stranger inside of it. 
“Who knew the ship came with such a pretty little whore.” The imposter hummed. He shifted your arms so he could pin both your wrists with one hand. With his other, he grasped the bottom of the beskar helmet and pulled it off.  The man’s eyes were a piercing blue. Cold and cruel. Blond hair covered his scalp except on the side of his head where the scars of what looked like claw marks sat. He tossed the helmet aside and gave you a sickening grin. “Is that what you’re here for? You keep the Mandalorian’s bed warm? Let him fuck you when he’s done with a hunt?”
“Get the kriff off of me!” You struggled against his grip, against his touch, but nothing seemed to deter him from using his other hand to run over your body. You screamed until you were hoarse and when you cried out for Mando the man sitting on top of you just laughed. Faintly, you could hear frantic tapping behind Mando’s bunk door and fear struck you. Was the child awake? He wouldn’t be able to unlock the door from inside you didn’t think. 
It seemed the imposter was too immersed in you to hear the sound. 
“How about this,” The man leaned closer into your space, “I get a quick taste of you now, and then, once we’re up and in hyperspace, I’ll fuck you better than your Mando ever could, yeah?”
His lips crashed down on yours roughly. You tried to turn your face away, but the imposter bit down on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Between the metallic taste of your blood on your tongue and the smell of his rancid breath you were going to be sick. You gasped in pain and he took advantage by shoving his tongue into your mouth. He pressed his hips down into you, grinding against your stomach now, and the feel of his erection pressing into you made a horrified sob slip form you. It seemed to only spurn him on further. He let go of one of your hands to grasp at the waistband of your pants.
The sound of sprinting footsteps made the imposter sit up and you were barely able to register what was happening when a body dressed in red leather slammed into the beskar covered imposter⏤ both men falling away. Taking advantage of your freedom, you scrambled back as quickly as you could. The stranger dressed in red, wearing an oddly shaped helmet that covered his face, had a hand wrapped around the imposter’s throat while his other fist pounded away at the man’s face. Grunts of anger filled the air with every blow thrown and the imposter fought back only for a moment before his body went slack.
You scrambled away further but your back hit a metal crate sitting in the cargo hold. It shifted slightly and the sound made the stranger sit up and spin around. You gasped⏤panicked. Heart still racing. The imposter laid motionless. His face bruised, broken, and bloody beyond all recognition. You were breathing hard, trying to suck in more air as the air you did get brought no relief. The stranger jumped up, motions smooth and agile, and rushed to you. A cry of fear left you as you tried to pathetically jump up, but his hands wrapped around you. Soft, but firm. A comforting weight.
“It’s me. It’s me. You’re safe, mesh’la.” A familiar voice came out of the unfamiliar mask. The bright red and angry shapes still jarring to look at and you tried to struggle away. He pulled away to rip off his gloves. One hand came to rest on the side of your face, while the other lifted the red helmet just enough to reveal a jaw covered in dark scruff and lips. “Listen to me, mesh’la. You’re safe. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s me. I’m here.”
You were still shaking, your entire body threatening to tremble into pieces, but your breaths were beginning to grow controlled. The warm hand on your face was grounding. It was familiar. You couldn't see the man’s eyes, but you could feel his soft gaze. Safe. You felt safe.
“M⏤Mando?” You gasped.
“Yes.” He nodded. “I’m here, mesh’la. You’re safe now.”
You broke into an uncontrollable sob, unable to bite it back, and Mando didn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms. The coarse, red armor you buried your face into felt unfamiliar, but the strong arms that wrapped around you felt right.
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For the first time, Din felt uncomfortable in his helmet. It smelled of the spice that Trigg disgustingly chewed on. He couldn’t even bring himself to pull his armor on. It left him in a pair of plain sweats and shirt. After setting you in his bunk, the child curled into your side, he had stripped the mercenary out of his beskar and thrown the piece of shit into the carbonite freezer.
The job had gone so well then so bad. Din found the young Rodian child and killed his quarry. He’d only get half the bounty with the flesh trader dead, but something was better than nothing. The moment he returned the girl to her mother his heart had stopped when he realized his armor was missing. Din had sprinted to the Razor Crest, faster than he had ever run, and still he hadn’t come soon enough. 
Din stepped out of the fresher. The Razor Crest was in hyperspace and the cargo hold was dark. The only light spilling from the open door behind him. The sound of whimpering filled the otherwise silent space around him. Din hurried to the bunk to see you tossing and turning. He scooped the child up and set him in the hammock before crawling in to try and calm you.
He called out your name, bare hands on your shoulders, and when your eyes snapped open, thanks to his visor, he could see clearly the way panic and fear filled them. You screamed and began to swing at him. His helmet. It was his helmet. Without thinking, Din ripped his helmet off and threw it out of the bunk. Din pulled you into his arms again, pressing your face to his shoulder, and whispered reassurances.
“It’s me, Mesh’la. It’s me. I’m sorry. I was wearing the helmet. You’re safe, I promise.”
“Mando?” You breathed. He buried his hand in your hair and pulled you tighter into his chest. As if the two of you weren’t already tangled together in the small confines of his bunk. “I’m sorry I hit you⏤”
“It didn’t hurt. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” Din didn’t know which emotion waged in him the most⏤ guilt or anger. They were neck and neck. You took in a deep shaky breath and your hot breath on his neck made him sigh in relief. You were safe in his arms. Din rubbed your back and the question fell out before he could hold it back. “Did he… Mesh’la, did⏤”
“No.” You whispered. “You got here just in time.”
Din could feel tears soaking into his shirt. When the tears stopped, Din coaxed you out of the bunk and onto the cargo hold floor. He grabbed a first aid kit and rushed back so you weren’t left alone for too long. The only light still came from the open door of the fresher and he sat so his back was to it. The dim light illuminated your features and it was like a spotlight to the injuries you sported. He had told you that you could open your eyes. With the way you sat, it’d be too dim for you to see his face, but you said you didn’t want to risk it. 
He let his fingers trace the forming bruise surrounding your right eye. It trailed down to brush against the torn skin of your lower lip. Dank farrik. That kriffing fucker had bit you. He could see the outline of teeth. Din’s jaw clenched. He grabbed a bit of bacta and rubbed it gently into the forming bruise. He was going to do the same for your lower lip when you stopped him.
“Did I hurt you?” He blurted.
“No, no. Not that.” You mumbled. “Can I… Can I ask you for a favor?”
“Anything, mesh’la. Anything.”
“Can you kiss me?” You asked. Din was certain he had misheard you. It was why he sat in silence. He was trying to puzzle out what it was you had actually said. You spoke again, nervous, “You don’t have to. I⏤I…”
“You want me to…kiss you?”
You nodded. Eyes still closed lightly. “I know it’s dumb. It⏤ I just don’t want to feel his lips anymore. I don’t want the taste of him on me.”
“That’s not dumb, mesh’la.” 
Din settled one of his hands on the side of your face. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Din began to lean in. He didn’t want to startle you. He wanted to give you every opportunity to pull away if you needed to. Din would be lying to himself, again, if he said he hadn’t imagined the way your lips would feel on him. But not like this. He hated that these were the circumstances, but there wasn’t a single thing Din wouldn’t do for you if you asked.
His nose brushed against yours. Din was close enough that he could feel your lips part. He waited one second more before pressing his lips softly against yours. One of your hands lifted to tangle in his hair and a simple gesture shouldn’t make him feel so hot under his skin. The kiss was slow and tender. Din was terrified to press too hard and bring you pain. The injury to your lower lip still so fresh. And after what you had just suffered through, he wanted you to have all the control. If you needed to use him to rid yourself of that nightmare, to erase the memory that bastard left on your lips, then he would. 
Your tongue brushed against his lower lip, tracing it, and he parted his lips for you giving you room to explore him. Maker, the taste of you was so sweet. It took every single ounce of Din’s self control to not deepen the moment even further. The kiss grew almost frantic. A hand in his hair and another at the back of his neck to pull him into you. You pulled back just enough to suck in a sharp breath before your lips was back on his and Din lost his battle for self control.
He wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap. Din was caught off guard when you pushed down to press yourself against his already hard cock, but it was a welcome surprise. He grabbed your hips, hands tightening into the soft skin there, and grinded into you. You moaned into his mouth and Din pulled away briefly so he could press open mouth kisses along your jaw then down your neck until he reached your shoulder. Thoughtlessly, he bit down, wanting to leave evidence of himself on you, and you let out a sharp gasp while grinding into him again. Din ran his tongue against the bite soothingly. 
Din’s hands slipped under your shirt and he desperately let his lips find yours once more. His tongue slipped past your lips, but then he tasted it. The sharp, metallic tang of blood. Din pulled back quickly realizing his plan to let you run the show had gone to shit. Both of you were breathless. 
“Are you okay, mesh’la??” He pulled one hand away from your hip to touch your face. His thumb brushed against your lower lip and in the dim light he could see the tint of red. 
“Thank you.” You breathed. You leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss that missed and only landed on the corner of his lips. Then you leaned your head on his shoulder and just took slow breaths. Din let his knuckles drag up and down your spine. He could feel your entire body going limp as you melted into his hold. You mumbled, “Thank you, Mando.”
“Din.” He replied, but he didn’t know if you had already fallen asleep or not. “Call me Din.”
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chaotic-iguana · 1 year ago
Note
HI OMG UR FICS ARE INTOXICATING WTH!!!
Can I please req a Din Djarin where he and the reader are travelling together and reader is bubbly/sunshine personality and then she admits her feelings and Din doesn’t reciprocate at first.. then her personality changes and she’s all sad and he can’t stand it!!!! Cause he does love her and he can’t bare to see her that way!!!
Super angst and fluff please 😭😭😭😭 THANK H IF U DECIDE TO WRITE THIS 🤍🤍
HELLO THANK YOU SO MUCH!! ofc im writing anything u request lysm ur the best plus the prompt is so adorable ahufsdkfjhfs. just to try sumth new, im gonna switch it up and do this one from din’s pov. lmk what you think!!
Enough
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Summary: Din rejects reader when she confesses her feelings to him even though he feels the same, only to regret it later.
Pairing: Grumpy! Din x Sunshine! Reader (no use of y/n)
Wordcount: 2.6k
Warnings: none, just a lot of angst and fluff
masterlist
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Din Djarin was not a good man. He was aware of this, which is why he was careful not to get to close. Not to taint things with his darkness; the destruction that seemed to shadow him wherever he went. He learned to turn his head away when you sung softly to the child, to clench his fists and keep himself from reaching for you when you giggled at your own terrible (adorable) jokes, to steel himself against your pleas to purchase every single fuzzy fabric you saw, no matter the form. Socks, blankets, shirts, trousers, even a kriffing hat, which Din stopped and let you buy just to stop the stares he was getting from people at the way you were practically jumping in your spot, pointing at the shop’s display. 
But despite his best wishes, Din was not a strong man, either. Not as strong as he needed to be, to resist you. You, with a beaming smile that never failed to make him blush under his helmet; with tender, caring hands that looked so soft that Din wanted to rip his beskar off so you could brush them against him, just once. Your hair, which smelled so sweet that Din could catch traces of it through the beskar. Your eyes, almost siren-like when you blinked up at him while rambling away about something. The way you scrunched your nose with a snort when you couldn’t hold in a laugh. The fact that you had never, ever asked for his name - or an explanation of his helmet, for that matter - even when he knew you hadn’t heard of Mandalorians before. The lilting notes of laughter in your voice before you turned to him with a sly smile, offering him with a witty quip he would have killed others for voicing, before throwing back your head and howling. No, Din was nowhere near strong enough to stand a single damn chance against you. 
He could hear you humming to yourself and the baby while you heated some broth, stopping to lean down and pepper kisses all over Grogu’s face as he cooed happily. Walking into the cockpit, he grunted in acknowledgement of your “Hey, Mando! Sleep well?” before turning to the child and nudging his helmet against his wrinkly forehead. When he turned around to see a gentle smile gracing your face in acknowledgement of the scene in front of you, he straightened up and cocked his helmet as if daring you to comment. 
He was itching for a fight: something, anything to stop the sweet torture of your presence which seemed to breathe life into your surroundings, no matter where you stood. You’d find a way to brighten a graveyard, Cyar’ika. Your smile tightened slightly before you presented him with a bowl of his own, brushing past him to take the child in your arms and leave the cockpit. Every muscle in his body was tense, his mind begging him to let you stay, to apologise for his hostility. To hear you prattle on about something menial while he ate, to revel in the domesticity of being with you. Not like that, of course. You were simply too good for him. Too perfect; too pristine. Your eyes too bright and your heart too soft for him to be worthy of your love. And so Din slipped off his helmet, ducked his head, and ate in silence.
He had noticed that lately, you still spoke to him, but you’d leave with the child more often. He could hear conspiratorial whispers sometimes, the child nodding and babbling his own input as if the two of you were hiding something. You weren’t awkward around him, per se, just less readily giving of your laughter, your jokes, your mindless chatter. All Din knew was that his mind would not rest unless he confronted you, and soon. A restless yearning for your erratic, unnecessarily bright gestures gave way to the anxiety spooling in his gut. Had you finally seen him for what he is?
So later that day, after the supply run when you had fed and put Grogu to sleep, he approached you in the cockpit. He shuffled uneasily behind you, shifting his weight from side to side as he waited for you to break the silence. But uncharacteristically, you just continued to stare into hyperspace without a word. When Din cleared his throat, you turned your head his way. But your gaze was flitting around; your hands fiddling nervously in your lap. Why were you apprehensive? 
“Are you…” Din swallowed, unsure of how to phrase his question, “okay?” Are we okay?You looked up at him then, your eyes wide with anxiety, before looking down at your lap again. Could you be…scared? Of me? 
But then you took a deep breath; the nerves fading from your face and giving way to a look of complete resignation, your shoulders slumping with the weight of inevitability. Your gaze met his visor, and he could see that your fingers were lightly curled into fists.
“I don’t really know how to do this, Mando.” Another deep breath. The colour has faded from your face and suddenly you seemed so small, folded in on yourself, that Din had never had to wrestle harder with his own self-control to stop himself from pulling you into his chest and holding you; comforting you, until you’re back to your bouncy self. “You know that I like most people, right?” He nods; you do seem to like and be liked by most people he’s come across, even the ones he would deem unworthy to so much as look at you. 
“I’ve always really enjoyed meeting new people, and making friends. Life is easier when you’ve got people, right?” You’re rambling again, but instead of the usual enthusiasm lacing your tone, crippling worry dripped from your every word. Are you leaving him? 
“I think-I know that I like you more than I like everyone else. Anyone else. I like everything about you more than I’ve ever liked about anyone else and I just…” you trailed off, gulping. “It feels like you and Grogu are my family, already. And I guess I just can’t help but wonder if you might want more than this, like I do. I-fuck it-I’m in love with you, Mando.” And then you’re shying away from him again, biting your lip as you search his visor for a reaction. 
You’re in love with him? This has to be a joke. Din waited for the catch, standing unmovingly in front of you as if waiting for one of your signature punchlines to come tumbling out of your mouth. When it doesn’t, he just gaped at you, his mind overwhelmed with too many thoughts to even say anything. A part of him had never been happier than this moment right here; never loved you more than right now. But the other, more dominant part of him was practically reprimanding him. And what now, idiot? Profess your undying love to her and subject her to a life as the wife of a bounty hunter? No comfortable homes, no proper vacations or even neighbors. A life on the run. With you, dikuit - a man who has never been loved enough to understand how to reciprocate. There is nothing you can give her. There is nothing you can do. 
Din bristled under your gaze, suppressing a wince at the words that came out of his mouth next. “You mean to tell me that you are in love with a man you have never even see the face of? A man who hasn’t even told you his name? Stop lying to yourself. There is no ‘family’. You are the child’s caretaker, and nothing more. It would be best for you not to forget that in the future.” He wanted to slap a hand to his mouth, to bite his tongue - anything, anything not to see the way you wilted in front of him as his words registered. You slumped further in the chair, shoulders curving inwards as you brought your knees to your chest to curl up into a protective position, as if he was hurting you. Frustrated by the fact that he could neither pull you in his arms to comfort you, nor find it in himself to continue spewing bullshit he didn’t mean, Din just turned and walked away. He pretended not to hear the muffled crying echoing through the ship that night. 
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That had been three weeks ago. He’d gone for a hunt right after, returning within the week. What he found back at the ship made a part of him wish he wouldn’t have returned at all. Your eyes sat bloodshot on hollow cheeks, sunken in your face as dark blotches formed under them. You were quiet, even with the concerned child - all the singing, humming goneas if it had never been. Grogu kept gesturing to you when he father looked his way, as if asking what was wrong. Din knew what was wrong. He just didn’t know how to fix it. He couldn’t find it in himself to leave you alone again, so he’d been mumbling excuses to you each morning as to why he was still on the ship. You’d never answer, just offering him the barest dip of your chin. Din hadn’t just rejected you-he’d been cruel about it. And he hadn’t slept since the night he’d spat those pathetic words at you in an effort of self-preservation, either. The moment kept replaying in his head over and over: your initial nervousness, the words you’d said to him, and your wince at the ones he’d reciprocated with. 
But like he’d admitted: Din Djarin was not a strong man. For you; only for you, he would crumble. To see your usual cheeriness replaced by this emptiness nearly made his knees buckle. You’d stopped eating, too - quietly slipping your food to Grogu, whose concern was overridden by his constant hunger. He’d done this: out of fear of hurting you, he’d reduced you to a mere shadow of what you used to be by doing it anyways. Out of his fear of fucking it up, he’d gone and done that exact thing without even trying to make it work. It was unacceptable to him, to go without hearing your laugh or your jokes or your humming. Not to see you giggling with Grogu. Fix it then, dikuit. So he would. 
Din walked into the cockpit, picked Grogu up from his place on the floor, and whispered a soft apology to him before shutting him in his cot. Grogu, ever-understanding, had just pressed a claw to his helmet and nodded as if wishing him luck. Thanks kid, I’m going to need it. He’d seen your confusion when he had taken Grogu out of the cockpit, but youremained mute. Walking back towards you, Din could feel his chest hurting at the way your hands shook and your eyes glossed over when he got closer. 
“I’m sorry.” His words have no effect; a tilt of your head is the only proof you offer to show that you heard him. Ironic, isn’t it, to be at the receiving end of what I do to others all the time? “For how harsh I was. I didn’t mean it.” Your mouth opens this time, but he raises a hand to stop you. If he doesn’t get this out now, he never will. “I was the one lying to myself, not you. I fell in love with you a long, long time ago, ner’karta. But I was scared-still am-because I have nothing good to give you. Not like what you deserve. My creed alone means that I can’t show you my face until we get married. My job doesn’t allow me stability. I have never been…loved. I do not know how to love you properly. All I know is that it doesn’t feel like a good morning until you say it, that I feel myself flushing under my beskar when you smile at me, that I have to bite my lip to stop a chuckle when you tell me your jokes. All I know is that since you’ve come into my life and made it brighter, it seems I can’t face the darkness alone again. These past two weeks have been hell, cyar’ika. I cannot bear to see you like this. Please forgive me. I will drop you off anywhere you wish to go.” 
And then your face is twisting and you’re sobbing - large, shuddering sobs that alarm Din when they begin. He reaches a tentative hand out towards you slowly, giving you more than enough opportunity to slap it away. When you don’t, he steps closer and pulls you into his chest. As I should have done then. You shake with the force of your hiccups, and Din reaches to rip off his gloves before wrapping his arms around you, a warm hand coming to cradle your head against him. All he can say is a feverish repetition of “I’m sorry, I’m sorrymy love, please forgive me”. 
By the time your tears subside, you can hear sniffs coming from under the helmet too; his modulated voice cracking and giving away his own crying. “Y-you don’t get to-to decide for me. You can’t decide whether or not you can offer enough or whether you can love me properly or not. Just love me, Mando. All you have to do is try.” Your voice is so fragile, so tentative as you speak into his chest that Din’s heart aches at the pain he can hear in it. You continue, “I don’t need stability from you, nor do I need your name or face. To have your heart is enough.” And though you can’t see it, Din has to shut his eyes and brace himself against the weight of his own tears this time. His chest warming, butterflies in his stomach as he tucks you impossible closer.
“Like I said, cyar’ika, you’ve had it for a very long time.” And then you’re smiling again, as Din’s knees threaten to buckle from the force of emotion that wells up at the sight. You’ve pulled back from his chest, but stay close enough to graze his helmet with your nose.
“Is that so, Mando? Do I want to know how long?” You whisper back, somehow looking straight into his eyes despite the visor. 
“Din.” At your frown, he clarifies hesitantly. “My name, cyar’ika. Din Djarin.” You beam brighter, repeating it to yourself. “Wait - cyar’ika? You started calling me that last year, when you were annoyed I bought that fuzzy green hat with frog ear and Grogu tried to eat it on the way home. I thought it was like a swear word, or something -not that I think you would swear at me, you just seemed very annoyed, you know?”
A chuckle slips past his modulator, before he gives in completely. “Close your eyes, please.” When you comply, he rips his helmet off and cups your jaw with his hand, thumb stroking your cheek. Leaning in, he presses his mouth to yours gently, leaning back to look at you. “Beloved, cyare. It means beloved.” Before he can say anything else, your hands tangle in his hair, and suddenly you’re pulling him back into another kiss. And another. And another. 
You two remain so wrapped up in each other that you actually forget to leave the cockpit until Grogu stomps in, having apparently broken out of his cot, and begins babbling at you both angrily, before seeing the smile on your face after so long and hurtling towards you at full speed, nearly tripping on his robes in the process before you catch him in your arms. 
It was true, though. You didn’t need Din to go out of his way to give you anything. This was enough. 
hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore
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hapan-in-exile · 3 months ago
Text
It's alright to just admit that I'm the fantasy
A Mandalorian One Shot
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Yeah, I know your little secret...
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Reader: You are a courtesan at the Dark Garden, Coruscant’s most prestigious pleasure house. Owned by the crimelord Boss Set’ki and operated by his lieutenant Mistress Anassa, when business meets pleasure, you’re expected to entertain soldiers on the payroll. But there’s one—a Mandalorian you’ve come to know and respect—who’s never taken advantage of your services. Until one day, he asked, What if next time I said yes?   
Word Count: ~9K
Pairing: dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader
Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI, 18+ only.
Warnings: Roleplay, bondage, blindfold, fingering, oral sex (m+f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spanking, hair pulling, choking, biting, protected anal, unprotected piv, rough sex, edging (him), explicit consent, aftercare.
If the above looks super intense, please know I wrote a soft(er) dom Mando—no extreme degradation. Lots of checking in! Lots of praise!
A/N: This is a one-shot set in the same universe as my ongoing Mandalorian fanfic series. It has no bearing on the series plot, but that’s why the ofc Thuli is named (only once). However, there's no description of skin, hair, or eye color; no description of age or body shape.
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Tales from the Dark Garden
“Thank you,” the Mandalorian says disinterestedly, sliding the pile of neatly stacked credits into his waiting palm. “Please extend my gratitude to Boss Set’ki for his generous and timely payment.”
You watch him tuck the metallic ingots into one of the leather pouches sewn to his belt—right between the buckle and a string of explosive charges. There’s a dull thunk when the butt of his rifle knocks against the table’s edge as he turns to leave. 
It's quite the arsenal. The bounty hunter certainly cast an imposing figure. 
It’s a miracle those shoulders made it through the hatch.  
You’d heard rumors from the other girls at Dark Garden about the fearsome Mandalorian who visited Mistress Anassa. This just happened to be one of those delightful twists gifted by the universe, where the real thing exceeds expectations. He was terrifying. And sexy as hell.
That first moment when you’d opened the door to see him standing there in full plate Beskar was a shock to the senses that would have reduced a younger Thuli into a stream of inane babbling. 
Good thing you had a lot of practice controlling your expression—the demands of professional decorum, after all. It would ruin your Mistress’s reputation if you started drooling over the customers.
The armor suited him. It accentuated the breadth of his shoulders, the strength in his forearms, and his powerfully muscular thighs. The belt slung low around his tapered waist, and the quilted canvas hinted at the taut abdominals concealed beneath.
All the adrenaline that surged through your body at the sight of his weaponry had  immediately transformed into excitement, raw and primal. 
This man made you feel…
Sweet gods, divine and merciful.
“Of course,” you smile, leaning forward to place your elbows over the polished tabletop so that your breasts rise enticingly. Lacing your fingers together, you gently rest your chin atop your knuckles. “I will happily deliver your compliments to my master.”
The Beskar gleamed in the candlelight despite an ashy layer of soot. From the state of him, he might have come straight from the lower levels where he’d tracked his quarry. Your eyes linger over the blood splattered across his helmet, sending a shiver of panic down your spine. What sort of violence had this man committed mere hours ago?
Arousal surges within you, fear and wanting intertwined. 
The gore and grime are a stark contrast to the lush surroundings. Draped in silk tapestries, with thick woolen rugs and brocade pillows, your shuttle interior was designed to be a sanctuary from the vulgar world outside. 
But you suspect the Mandalorian wrapped brutality around him as tightly as the cloak hanging from his neck. It would take a woman of considerable charm to remove either.  
Which is why Anassa chose you.      
“It is my honor to serve, Master Set’ki,” you reply, rising artfully from your chair and gesturing toward the lounge where you’ve laid out a modest tea service. “And my duty to please.”
The Mandalorian pauses midstep on his way to the door.
“Excuse me?” he asks, curiosity peaked.
Shrugging out of your robe, the silken fabric pools at your feet. You kneel onto the plush carpet before pulling back, sitting on your heels, and reaching for the enameled pot. “My master thought you would enjoy the companionship. A chance to indulge in softer luxuries before you return to the Outer Rim.” 
The Mandalorian’s helmet gives away nothing, but you can feel his eyes tracing over you.
Looking up at him through dark lashes, you explain, “The use of this ship—and myself—are yours for the night.” 
Despite the layers of cloth and metal, when he folds his arms across his chest, you see the muscles in his back ripple. He looked powerfully, almost aggressively masculine. Like someone who took what he wanted. 
And right now, he’s imagining taking you. 
The fear is still there, but by now, it had sharpened to anticipation so intense that it ached. 
“That won’t be necessary,” he says firmly. Yet, his words did not match his actions. Instead of continuing on his path toward the door, he turns to face you, uncrossing his arms to hold them at his sides.  
Is he simply nervous? Sometimes, warriors hardened on the battlefield liked to yield dominance in the bedroom. Maybe you should try throwing him against a wall and climbing him like a tree. 
No. If submission were his preference, Anassa would have chosen someone else—Katlin with her barbed whips or Bat’ya with her cruel tongue. 
You need to coax him without pushing. The subtle art of persuasion. 
Let’s start with coy seduction. 
Turning to look at him from over your shoulder, you toss your hair just so, sending shimmering waves down your back. You twist gracefully at the waist until your bodice gapes, revealing the contours of your body.  
“Think of it as a reward,” your voice is supple as the velvet cushions surrounding you on the floor. “Someone to take care of you. My only desire is your comfort and pleasure.”
With that, you pour the tea and walk over to him, proferring a cup.
“That is indeed generous,” the Mandalorian cocks his head. “But I usually find more comfort in solitude.”
Yet, again, he makes no attempt to leave, accepting the cup from your hand graciously. Worn leather caresses your skin as your fingers brush against each other, reaching around the warm porcelain. The jaw of his helmet lifts, and you catch a glimpse of bronze skin and coarse black hair while he raises the cup to his lips.
Surprisingly full lips.
What did he mean by offering resistance? Was this a challenge? Some test of your professional acumen?  
A skilled courtesan is, above all else, a student of human nature and hidden desires. She must know what her clients want before they speak the words. Before they know it themselves. This Mandalorian wanted to be…tempted. 
Timidity would yield nothing. 
You arch an eyebrow, “I have never known a man who preferred solitude to my company.” Then, you stare directly into the jet-black surface of his helmet’s visor. Meeting his gaze, you place a delicate hand over his chest plate and fill your voice with honey, “Let tonight be a rare exception to the usual.” 
The Beskar feels cool against your palm and the pads of your fingertips. You hadn’t realized how flushed you’d become with your heart beating this fast. The insistent yearning between your thighs matches each pulse coursing through your veins.
“I am here to satisfy your needs. Whatever the Mandalorian desires is his for the taking.” 
While the bounty hunter remains stubbornly silent, you can hear his breathing grow shallow through the modulator.
Having made your supplication, you draw back. “If it is tranquility the Mandalorian desires, perhaps I could play the valachord or sing for him?” 
“Sing?” he huffs, sounding amused. It’s funny, hearing the smirk on his lips.
Well, at least he’s not completely immune to your charm. 
“Pleasure takes many forms,” you say, flashing him a demure smile. “As such, we courtesans are skilled in many arts. I’ve been told my voice is exceedingly lovely. And I know all the Twelve Ballads of Kiergaard.”
You shift onto the edge of a thick cushion to pour yourself some tea. When you raise the cup to your lips, the look of elegant femininity slips—just for a moment, so he can see the earnest hunger filling your gaze. You fix him with your most smoldering stare, “Though I can certainly think of other ways to please you with my mouth.”
The tea tastes bitter on your tongue, but you hardly notice, waiting for his reaction.
The Mandalorian says nothing as he pulls the rifle over his head, settling it against the door frame. He walks over in a slow saunter that makes his hips dip and sway. Slowly, he extends his hand to take your face in his leather fingers, lifting up your chin. 
“You want me to fuck your mouth?”
Your breath catches in your throat. A wave of arousal courses through your body, emanating from your clenching belly until it ripples over every surface of your skin, pinching your nipples.
“If the Mandalorian—” but he cuts off whatever beguiling line you intended. 
“I thought this was about what I wanted?” he demands.
Suddenly, you’re too flustered to speak, confused by the sudden shift in dynamic. All his polite reticence had been an act. He was done testing you. He wanted to assert dominance. 
In answer, you lower your gaze.
“That’s right,” he says cooly, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You’re remembering what you’re for.” The Mandalorian takes the cup from your hands and tosses it aside. “There’s no more need to talk. Don’t open your mouth unless I tell you.” 
Then he reaches down to his belt and unbuckles it. 
And to think you worried he’d be too self-conscious for roleplay. This is going to be so good.
“You’re here to give me whatever I want?” he asks, his tone gruff and intimidating.
You don’t look up, just nod.
He laughs, “I’m glad we understand each other.” 
With your gaze locked on the floor, you watch the tread of his boots make their way to a lacquer armchair in the corner of the room. His knees splay wide as he leans back in his seat. “Answer my question.”
“Whatever the Mandalorian desires, I will give him.”
“Because tonight, your body is for me.”
It’s not a question, but you find yourself nodding in confirmation. 
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
You answer truthfully. “That you’re a dangerous man, and I should do my best to please you.”
“Smart girl,” he says in a rough whisper. “But don’t worry, I have no intention of harming you. I’m going to make you come. Then you’ll sing for me, senaar'ika.”
Senaar'ika. Little bird. 
Your whole body flushes with heat.
“What do you know about Mandalorian customs?” 
When you hesitate, he adds, “You can answer me.”
“I know that it’s a sacrilege to look upon your face. That to touch your helmet, even by accident, is to forfeit my life.”
“Then you’ll understand why I need to tie you down.”
At that, your head snaps up to look at him.
“Or tie you up. I haven’t decided yet.” 
Part of you is terrified by the thought of being captive to this man for hours, splayed wide and helpless. The other part of you wishes he’d do it this second. 
“You can undress while I make up my mind.”
Obeying his command, you stand and reach behind you for the lacings of your bodice.
This, at least, is an art in which you can make your mistress proud. The trick is to envision it’s a private ritual, something deeply intimate. That you always loosen the silken knots this slowly. That each row of the lacings must be pulled free, one—by—one. 
You lift your elbows so that he glimpses the soft curves of your breasts as you move. Slip your right arm from its fitted sleeve, then the left, until you’re certain the dress will fall, cascading over your body like waves caressing the shore. 
Only then do you turn, rolling your hips and then your shoulders, displaying your nakedness, before you finally look over to where he’s sitting, as though you’d forgotten anyone was watching. 
At some point during your performance, the Mandalorian had leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, his hands clasped together in wrapt attention. 
“That was beautifully done,” he murmurs. “You may be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Your heart swells, hearing his admiration—perhaps because it sounds so genuine. Suddenly, all you can think about is how best to please him, the things you’ll do with your lips and fingers.
“I understand the Hapan courtesans from Dark Garden are the most expensive, the most prized companions in all of Coruscant.” The hunter’s voice sinks into a low, husky rasp as he says, “But tonight, I’m not interested in your talents, though I’m sure you have many. This is about what I want to do to you. Tonight, you belong to me.” 
It’s just as well he demanded your silence because you can’t speak. 
You know he can see you breathing, shallow and fast, from the rise and fall of your breasts. See your pulse thundering against your throat. He’s feeding off your fear, you realize. That’s why he keeps trying to catch you off guard like this. The Mandalorian wanted to shatter your artful calm and see something raw and real in your eyes. 
You know you should be afraid—and you are—but you’ve never been more turned on.
So when he gets up from his seat to approach you, you don’t bother hiding the way your whole body trembles in trepidation.
The Mandalorian crouches to pick up the belt from your discarded robe.
“Give me your hands.” 
He uses the fabric to tie your wrists together, wrapping the belt around and between them in a complicated knot. Then, his strong hands pull you under one of the lanterns suspended from the ceiling. 
Cupping it in his palm, he lifts the glowing orb from its hook to set it down beside the abandoned tea service. The cabin grows dim, like he’s wrapped you in shadows.
That’s when you realize what’s about to happen. Unspooling the cable from his whipcord, he loops it through the empty hook. He’s going to suspend you from the ceiling by your wrists. 
The breath coming from your nostrils is so fast now that it’s the only thing you can hear in the close, quiet cabin of your shuttle. But you say nothing. You can’t protest; you can only submit. 
After securing your bound wrists to the cord, he inspects the knots. 
“Not too tight?”
You release a deep breath and shake your head no. 
“You remember the signal?” Mando asks with concern, breaking from the fantasy entirely. 
“Yes,” you smile up at him with more confidence than you really feel—trying to ignore the insistent throbbing between your legs. 
“You can stop me at any time.”
“I know.”
“Alright,” he says before his voice drops into a rough whisper. “You’re giving me total control. Anything I want is mine.”  
Fuck, just hearing him say that makes you ache with need. That same trembling emanates from inside you, fear and arousal, two halves of the same coin. You don’t know precisely what the bounty hunter plans to do to you—and the suspense just makes the fantasy feel more real. 
Within seconds, you’ll be tied up, defenseless against him and his desires. The only way to stop him is to say the safe word, and you already know you won’t. You want it too much. 
You’ve spent months building up to this—years, really. It’s my choice, you’d told him. It’s different when it’s my choice. 
“Yes,” you whisper breathlessly.
Then he pulls down on the whipcord, and your arms lift above your head. 
For one panicked moment, you think he’s going to haul you entirely off the ground, but your feet remain on the floor, bearing your weight. You remind yourself that this is his domain. He knows how to bind, what the body can withstand. 
And for now, the tension feels manageable. Slack enough so you don’t feel the strain in your joints; taut enough so you can grip the cord to steady yourself. 
Yet you remain utterly helpless, unable to turn your head or move without losing your balance.
He takes a few steps back, leather boots creaking, and you watch as the Mandalorian strips his gloves off before removing the Beskar from his arms and chest.​​​ The fabric underneath outlines every contour of his powerfully muscular body.
Though not as graceful as your tradecraft, he certainly knows how to build anticipation. Each time his hands grip, pull, and tug, your stomach clenches. 
Soon, you feel volatile, ready to explode, waiting for him to touch you. When he finally does—when you feel the tip of his calloused finger tracing over the length of your spine, it burns through you, down to your core, so hot your cheeks flush scarlet. 
“It’s a good thing we have all night,” he murmurs. “There’s a lot I want to do with you.”
As he circles, the view plate sweeps up and down your body as though inspecting some prize captured in a snare. All you can do is stand there on display, completely exposed, until he makes a satisfied sound, a hummm that vibrates through the modulator. The hunter, pleased to discover what he’s caught.
“I feel deeply honored to receive you as my reward,” the Mandalorian sounds eager, standing behind you, voice full of hunger. “Now spread your legs.”
The breath catches in your throat, hearing that tight ache—the same raw yearning to match your own. You want to obey. 
But there’s no give to the whipcord. The bindings on your wrist pull tighter the farther your feet draw apart. Though you can still balance, your shoulders start to burn from the stretch. Slowly, you rise onto tiptoes. But not fast enough—
Wrapping an arm around your waist, the Mandalorian lifts you from the floor. 
“Wider,” he commands, gripping you roughly by the knee to pry open your thighs with his other hand. You have to bite back a scream. By now, you’re so wound up that just the sensation—the air cool against your wet center, his powerful chest pressed against your back, his fingers digging into your skin makes you drunk with lust. 
“You’re so wet already, senaar'ika. It’s slicking down your thighs,” the Mandalorian groans, breath warm against the back of your neck. His hand gripping your knee slides upward between your legs, tracing toward the heat of your skin. “No wonder you were begging me to fuck you.”
His fingers part and probe—massaging in slow, firm circles that spiral until you’re panting. Every stroke sends pleasure pulsing through you, and you can’t stop yourself from whimpering. 
“You like it when I use my hand?” he asks, voice maddeningly calm. Only the persistent throbbing against your hip, matching each beat of his heart, betrays his arousal. When you release a sigh in desperate delight, he says, “Maybe this is how I should start.”
And fuck, if Mando doesn’t knows exactly where to touch you—how much to bear down and how fast to go.
“Mmmph,” a moan of deep satisfaction escapes his lips as he thrusts two fingers inside you, sending a gush of wetness welling against his palm. He pushes them in and out, obviously relishing the obscene squelching sound.
Wait! When did he take off his helmet? 
No. No, this is forbidden. This is dangerous. 
You couldn’t move your head to look at him even if you wanted to, but your eyes shut tightly just the same. The fear of seeing his face, the dire consequences, amplify every panicked thought running through your mind, heightening every sensation—his fingers curling, his thumb pressing down over your clit.  
Your breaths come sharp and shallow now. All the blood in your body rushing between your legs. The stimulation is almost too much to bear, the excitement and panic roiling within you—the Mandalorian dipping his fingers inside, slipping them out to circle and stroke. Drawing a wet line between your cunt over and over.
Desire ripples through you in waves. Your body tightens, muscles clenching. Your bound hands keep straining in their futile urge to grab his wrist, your knees fighting against him to shut tight around his thrusting fingers. 
You’re close now. So close, you’re on the brink.
He kisses the back of your neck, “Don’t worry. I’m going to take good care of you.”
“Aaangh!” That’s when he presses harder, circles faster, and you come, “Haaa-aah!” 
Your orgasm crashes through you in a tidal wave that upends gravity. You cry out desperately with all the air left in your lungs—the relentless pounding of your heartbeat against your eardrums making you dizzy. 
“Haa-aah! Aaah!” 
Losing equilibrium, you sway, and the bindings pull painfully around your wrists. You’re at the limits of your flexibility, fighting to keep your balance before the Mandalorian’s muscular arm tightens around your waist, until he’s bearing enough of your weight to keep you upright.
“I’ve got you,” he says gently, pressing a tender kiss over your head. “Stand up. Come on. Legs spread. You know what I want.”
You shift on your heels, testing your unsteady knees. “I can’t—” but your words break off into a gasp when he clasps his hand around your throat, warm and sticky with your come.
“Shhhh,” he whispers against your temple. “I told you not to open your mouth unless I said so.”
His tone is soft, and he kisses you tenderly again through a tangle of damp hair, your forehead glistening with sweat. But his fingers grip tighter in warning. 
“Don’t speak unless you’re begging me for more.”
You nod once in understanding.
“Smart girl,” he says, and without the helmet on, you can hear the wry grin on his lips. “I’m glad we understand each other. It’s going to make everything so much easier. But just to be sure—”
His wide palm fans out from your waist, gliding down your body to slip over the curve of your buttocks. 
Then he brings it down in a sharp smack that echoes through the quiet cabin. Hearing that slap, feeling the sting on your skin, the burning heat that radiates from his handprint—shakes you from the hazy lust. 
It’s not enough to want to obey. 
“I’m going to take good care of you, senaar'ika. But you have to do as you’re told.”
While he’s playing a role, the pain is very real. Yet this fantasy is about your powerlessness. Whatever the Mandalorian wants to do to you, you have to take it. Yes, the pain is undeniable—but the adrenaline?—it sharpens the hunger.
When you finally regain your balance and tilt your pelvis forward at just the right angle, your ass brushes against his straining erection, and he groans, a low vibration you feel through his chest. Arousal arcs through you, and you gasp responsively. Even now, as your body tingles numbly in the aftermath of climax, your cunt still aches, longing to be full of him.
With his entire body sealed against you, you feel the firm pressure swelling against your ass. It throbs, heat radiating through the canvas flight suit. The coarse fabric is rough, rubbing over your slapped skin. 
“You feel that?” he whispers, grinding the entire length of his cock against you. “That’s what you’re going to take for me.”
Holy fuck, he’s huge. Thick, too. Your mind reels at the impossibility; can you really fit him inside you?
“You’re going to take it all,” the bounty hunter huffs, as if he’d heard your thoughts. “You’re going to come with my cock buried in your ass.”
Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! 
It’s something you’ve talked about, something you said you wanted and prepared for, but….you’ve never had anyone this big up your ass before. He’s going to tear you apart. 
“Are you scared? Because trust me, I’m going to make you ready. You’re going to beg me for it. Then you’ll come so hard with my cock in your ass, nothing else will ever feel as good.”
The hormones that suddenly surge through your body make arousal indistinguishable from panic. You should be so afraid, and yet, you want this. Under the fear, you’re still full of need, urgent, and emphatic.
“After that, if you’re lucky, then I’ll fuck your mouth.”
Shit! Shit, that’s…you try to banish away the shame washing over you. He’s going to claim your body in every way imaginable, use you filthy—and it feels like you shouldn’t want this. But you do. 
“Don’t worry,”  he sighs, voice sounding softer now, gentle. “I’m not going to rush this. First, I want to explore your beautiful body.”
You feel the cold Beskar plates against the backs of your thighs and shiver.
His hands slide outward along your shoulder blades, curving down and around just enough for his fingers to lightly brush the sides of your breasts. Then, the Mandalorian’s arms circle you, reaching up to grasp them in both hands. Arousal rekindles as he kneads and squeezes, pressing them together tightly. Igniting as he tugs and pinches. 
And when your nipples are so tender you whine, “Mmmph!” he soothes them in his wide palms. 
“You—are—so—beautiful,” he moans, kissing the curve of your jaw. 
Behind you, his lips trail soft, open-mouth kisses down the back of your neck, between your shoulders, along your spine, and lower, until he drops to one knee. His hands trace over your ribcage, your sides, the indentation of your waist, and the flare of your hips. 
The pads of his fingertips are coarse but tender.
“Look at you. Legs spread. Open and wet for me. When I dream of you, this is what I’ll see.”  
Then he crouches between your knees to press lighter, softer kisses up the inside of your thighs, teasing you until you grow desperate with anticipation. “Haa!” you gasp, already panting. 
Spirals of arousal coil through you, so dizzying you have to grip the whipcord for balance. 
Soon, you’re lost to anything but the desire for him to taste you. That he’s risked so much by removing his helmet is the only thing keeping you from breaking position, regardless of the punishment. That’s how much you long to tilt your hips and rub yourself against his mouth. 
Don’t speak unless you’re begging me for more. Would he like it if you begged?
“Please,” you whimper, voice full of desperation. 
He groans in satisfaction before making one long sweep of his tongue, right through the very center of your urgent longing. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes!”  
“I like hearing you beg.” Then his lips press firmly between your thighs, enfolding you in his warm, wet mouth.
Okay, wow, he’s good at this. He’s really, really good at this. 
The Mandalorian’s tongue searches for your clit, stroking and circling in a rhythm that drags you back to the brink almost instantly. But slowly, agonizingly slowly, to hold you at the edge of pleasure—like he could do this, keep you suspended there—forever.  
“Show me how much you want it,” he says, hot breath tickling against your delicate skin. 
If you could bury your fingers in his hair, you would. Instead, you shift all of your weight onto one leg, using what remains of your equilibrium to drape the other over his shoulder, feeling the rough stubble of his beard and the shell of his ear press against the inside of your thigh. 
Helping you balance, one strong hand grips you by the hipbone while the other slips over your knee before guiding his mouth between the sopping wet folds of your cunt. 
You tense every muscle, digging your heel into his sinewy back to try to keep him there. Right there! 
He rewards you by lapping faster—and then, when you cry out, speeding up even more. “Sing for me, senaar'ika.”
Every throb of pleasure ripples through your body from your nipples to your scalp, all the way down to your toes, until you can’t help yourself from rocking your hips, increasing the pressure just a little more. You feel each bob and turn of his head as he keeps at it, caressing you in spirals as a long, luscious wave of ecstasy swells inside you.
Mando’s fingers tighten around your thigh to hold you in place. He keeps going, maintaining his rhythm so that you can ride each cresting surge. It builds low, climbing and arcing higher, and when it finally overwhelms you, when you let go, and it rushes through you—you do sing. You cry out in one long wail that lasts the length and breadth of your climax.
Your body goes limp once the orgasm fades, and just like last time, the Mandalorian is the only source of strength to keep you upright. Hands clutching your hips, he pulls back to place a wet, sticky kiss low on your belly, then says, “We’re not done yet, little dove. Not nearly done yet.”
Gods in heaven, how much more of this can you take? You’d love nothing better than to sink to the floor in post-orgasmic bliss…but his cock is still in his pants. 
Too afraid to look down, you feel his body shifting between your knees and wonder, what next? Should you offer to reciprocate? Fuck, you want to. Right now, you want him in your mouth so badly that it’s all you can do not to beg for it. 
Your lips part, the words ready on your tongue—
When suddenly, he lifts you by the back of your thighs, settling you on top of his shoulders. You barely have time to gasp, to grip the braided cable between your hands—to think—before he buries his face between your thighs again.
“Oh, gods!” you gasp. “Oh, haah…!”
The tension in the whipcord keeps you from falling backward, but you feel precariously weightless sitting on his shoulders. Reeling, overstimulated from your last orgasm, you instinctively try to writhe away from the press of his wet tongue, his hot mouth, the coarse hair of his beard, and nearly lose your balance. 
Mando steadies you, wrapping his arms around your lower back, ass braced against his thick biceps as he works, tongue parting the soft creases of your cunt to find your sore, throbbing clit. 
This time, he holds nothing back, laving and shaking his head until your vision starts to blur; the pleasure is so intense it’s blinding. 
Oh shit! Merciful gods, this might break you. It’s too much. Too much. But you can’t move. Caged in his arms, you have to take what he gives. It feels so good. 
You don’t think it can get any better until he starts to suck. After that, you can’t think about anything anymore. Your mind is just blank. Static. White noise.
Fuck! You’re at the brink again—so fucking close—your heartbeat is thundering against your ribs. The muscles of your inner thighs lock, clenching around his jaw. Your body is poised right there. Right there! That exhilarating moment before—
And at that's when the Mandalorian slips a finger, slick with your come, inside your ass. 
The sensation kindles alarm, and your entire body tenses in response. All your instincts awaken in primal fear to remind you just how vulnerable you are.
Okay! It's okay! Just relax. 
In answer, his other hand begins sweeping up and down your thigh, caressing and soothing the tension away. 
That’s right. You have to relax. He’s doing this for you, to make you ready. Right now, your pleasure is the only thing that matters. Focus on his tongue circling your clit, his finger gently caressing millions of tiny nerve endings. 
But he slides up so seamlessly, so deep inside you, the pressure pools in your abdomen, and you gasp, “Oh, gods!” again.
Don’t resist the sensation—yield to it. Work with it. Take what you need.
Pulling on the whipcord for leverage, you thrust your hips against his mouth. He groans in encouragement, responding by sucking harder, licking faster—and then, spearing his tongue inside you.
Okay, yes. Yes! Gods, yes! You have never come so soon after your last orgasm, but he’s going to get you there.
That’s when he adds a second finger. 
You feel it stretch you, but your body doesn’t resist this time. And when he starts working them back and forth in rhythm with the thrusting of his tongue, it starts to feel so good. So good.
Each rut of his tongue and stroke of his fingers sends heat coursing through you, so flushed now that your skin seems to be on fire. Your hair clings to your sweaty cheeks. But nothing is as hot as his breath between your thighs. 
So you move faster, rubbing yourself against the raw stubble of his chin, the tip of his nose, drowning him in your cunt. All the while, he increases the pressure of his fingers just a little more, massaging inside you. 
You start to shake, the muscles in your legs trembling, as the Mandalorian twists his hand, rolls his wrist, and you feel the brush of his knuckles against the tender skin of your asshole. 
Then, he sucks your clit between his teeth, and you come in a burst of ecstasy so sharp it makes you scream. There’s a second when your vision goes entirely white—like staring into a bright sun—and your heart thumps so hard you hear the blood rushing in your ears.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your stomach.
His fingers gently slip out of you so he can grasp you by the ribcage with both hands, bracing you as you shudder through the ricocheting aftermath of your orgasm. 
“You taste like heaven.” 
He would know. His face, his hands, his neck, and shoulders are all covered in your come.  
“I told you I’d take care of you,” Mando’s broad hands stroke the length of your back, and the sound of his voice melts away any lingering doubts. He knows when to be gentle and when to be rough. You can trust him with this. 
When the bounty hunter ducks his head out from between your thighs, you think you’ll have to stand up again, get back into position. And you know you’ll be punished—but you can’t. You’re shaking too much for that. 
It doesn’t matter. Your feet never touch the floor. Bending you at the waist, he slings you over one broad, muscular shoulder, so that you dangle limp and dizzy, upside down as he steps into a lunge to lift you both off the ground. Tearing your wrists free from the whipcord at last, your arms fall numbly behind him, blood rushing back into your digits.
Draped over his shoulder like a hunter’s prize, he strides across the cabin toward the bed. 
Perhaps you’re delirious—you must be after three orgasms. Or maybe it’s because your fingers are so desperate to find new life. But when you look up (or is it down?) to see his perfectly sculpted ass outlined in dark gray canvas about a foot from your face…weak as you are, you can’t stop yourself from reaching for it. Your hand stretches lower until you feel its firm contours press satisfyingly against your palm. And gods help you, but you squeeze. Hard.
The Mandalorian chuckles, a deep booming laugh that has your knees jostling against his chest. You’re breaking from the submissive fantasy, but maybe he won’t—
“I knew you wanted it,” he laughs, voice full of triumph as—fingers splayed wide, he slaps his hand down over your ass cheek—the exact same spot as last time—so hard the sting brings tears to your eyes. 
Fuck! Your jaw drops. The pain sharpens all of your senses, bringing everything into focus. Your thighs squeeze together, cunt clenching against the sensation. Fuck that stings. Right. He’s back in the role. Time to be rough.
“You’ve wanted my cock inside you since the moment I stepped through that door. Haven’t you?” 
When he tosses you onto the bed, you fall onto the mattress, flat on your belly. But before you can get to your hands beneath you, he presses a knee down between your shoulder blades to keep you from moving. 
“You want to beg me some more, senaar'ika?”
The silk belt of your robe slips over your eyes, and he lashes it tightly behind your head. 
“Tell me!” he demands, like he’s making you confess to something. 
“Yes,” you whisper into the sheets, words muffled by the bedding. 
“Yes, what?”
“I want your cock.”
“Where?” he asks, and the sound of him tugging down his zipper fills your ears.
“Inside me,” you gulp. “I want your cock inside me.”   
You hear him tearing open the condom wrapper, “That’s right. Beg me to fuck you.” 
“Please—”
Then he’s on top of you, hands pressing into the mattress on either side of your face, his knee lifting from your back to part your thighs, his massive weight pinning you underneath him. 
Reaching between your naked bodies, he wraps a hand around the base of his shaft to rub the swollen head of his cock along the cleft of your ass, back and forth, slicking the entrance before he pushes inside you.
You cry out in shock. 
So does he.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, that’s so tight! Haa, haa!”
Leaning forward, he places a soft kiss atop your head, pausing with just the first few inches of him inside, letting your body stretch to fit him. 
“You okay?” he whispers quietly against your cheek, his face damp with sweat. 
When you nod, he begins tracing his tongue over your earlobe, kissing your jaw and the corner of your mouth. His beard is still drenched with your come.
“This feels amazing,” his breath is hot in your ear. “Just this. You're gripping me so tight.”
You’re tempted to stop here, to say the safe word. And you trust Mando to stop; you know he would. That’s why he’s reminding you. And this does feel amazing, his body enfolding you, the rub of his bare skin over yours, the feeling of every firm muscle pressing into your soft curves—the pressure inside you. 
But you want this. You want all of him.
“More,” you moan.
The aching burn is so intense as his enormous cock plunges deeper inside you—slowly, but without ceasing. “Oh fuck!” he gasps. “Fuuuuck, that feels so good. Almost, ha-aah…almost. It’s almost in.”
The burn as he opens you—the way the entire universe narrows to this bodily sensation, until you perceive nothing but its fantastic pressure—only anal sex does this for you. But its so hard to trust someone to be careful, to make you feel safe in spite of being so vulnerable and powerless. Mando does that. 
“I’m going to start, haah…I’m going to start moving, okay?” he says, panting from arousal and restraint.
Adjusting his weight onto his elbows, he rolls his hips gently, strokes building. There’s so much lubricant on the condom; each shallow thrust is frictionless, but you’re still trembling like one of the strings of your valachord. 
“Haah, you feel so good. So—nnngh—so fucking good!” Threading his fingers through your hair, his forehead drops against your neck, and the heat from each ragged breath spills over your shoulders. “Anngh!”
Then he starts fucking you in earnest. He pushes deeper now, pulling out further to feel the grip of your asshole squeeze up and down the length of his shaft. Already, you feel arousal peaking within you with each long, slow stroke. 
Mando’s width and length stretches you, makes you burn. And you moan, fingers twining in the sheets as the pleasure becomes indistinguishable from the pain. 
“You like this?” his voice is teasing again, getting back into the role.
“Mm-hmm,” you moan, unable to form words. 
It’s like you can’t feel anything but him moving inside you, pleasure surging in ebbs and flows, like a tidal current. It’s hard to describe. The barrier between your anus and cunt is so thin you feel him everywhere. It burns, this inner blazing heat. 
It’s a sweet agony, like the handprint on your ass, making everything tingle with sensitivity, amplifying every sensation. Even the pressure of the mattress against your clit is enough to send a thrill through you.
“Is this the biggest cock you’ve ever taken?” 
You cry out in torment and desire as he shoves into you harder this time, and your whole body bends and turns in a desperate effort to accept every inch.
“Yes,” you want to sob into the mattress. It aches. It’s so fucking good you could scream.
“You’re taking it so good,” he whispers as he sinks in even deeper. “That’s it.”
And he’s finally all the way inside you now, so deep that when he starts thrusting, you feel the slap of his sac against the dip of your cunt. Each stroke presses you harder against the mattress—hitting you where it feels best inside and out. 
And strong, so strong he pushes your body upward on the bed.
“I want to fuck you like this all night.” His voice is tight with strain—just barely holding on, waiting for you.
But he’s not moving fast enough for you to come.
“More,” you whimper into the damp folds of silk.
Mando pushes in again, burying himself balls-deep inside you before whispering against your shoulder, “What's that?”
You need more. “I need more…I need—”
“You worried I won’t fuck you hard enough?” he laughs, plunges in deep, and bites the soft flesh of your shoulder. It’s not enough to break the skin—but you cry out from the painfully sweet ache of it.
“Beg me, senaar'ika,” he says, sitting back on his heels, filling his lungs with each heaving breath. “Tell me what I want to hear.”
But this time, you don’t want to obey. You don’t want to say please. You want to find out exactly how hard the Mandalorian can give it to you. If you want to come with him, you need more, and you know how to get it. 
You turn your head so he can see the jut of your chin, fill your voice with challenge and say, “For the love of god, fuck me harder.”
The bounty hunter scoffs in shocked bemusement.
His arm hooks around your elbows, pinning them behind you, “You’ll regret that, little dove.” 
Then he yanks back on your arms, pulling you off the bed, and against his chest. Your ass presses into the bowl of his hips, thighs sealed against his. His other hand slides up your stomach and between your breasts to clasp around your throat. A touch that means possession. 
The Mandalorian owns you now, and he knows it.
Mando slams into you, and you want to cry out—but you stifle it somehow. You don’t want him to stop. You’re so wound up that tears well against your eyelids, dampening the blindfold. It scares you how much you want this. Gods help you, but you do. You fucking love it.
His thrusts remain slow at first. Deliberate. Punishing. Yes, punish me! His pelvis clashes against your buttocks like the snap of a paddle. But the tempo increases as he starts to get into it. Soon, he pumps into you so hard that it makes your breasts bounce, and your entire body starts to sweat. Your hair swings around your face, tendrils sticking to your neck, your flushed cheeks and forehead.
He never loosens his grip. Your shoulders start to ache from being pulled back so far—your throat throbs against his palm—and yet you want nothing more than the slap of his body, the feel of his cock filling you. It’s like he’s reaching to the core of your very being with every thrust.
Yes, you think, fuck me. Make me take it.
The bounty hunter’s hand tightens around your throat—unconsciously, you think—because of how close he is. Each ragged breath vibrates against your back. You can still breathe, but his grip keeps you dizzy and light-headed. 
A sharp thrust, and your arousal climbs. Another, and it goes higher. Mando bucks and bucks, and the world behind your eyelids becomes bright and sparkly around the edges. Sensation shivers upward through you, strengthening by the moment.
The climax builds from somewhere deep inside you, and you sink into it with every thrust, slipping deeper into pure instinctive sensation, until it claims your whole body in white-hot ecstasy. When you come, the desperation in your wordless cries transforms into a feral scream as you fall forward, tumbling back onto the sheets when he releases you. 
The silk feels so cool and smooth against your feverish cheeks. 
“Haah, aah! I knew you’d love it,” he groans triumphantly. “Nnngh!”
But he’s almost at the brink himself—his body contracting, abdominals clenching. That’s when he pulls out, denying himself release.
The mattress dips and creeks as he climbs off you, and off the bed. 
“I’m not done with you yet, senaar'ika. We’re not even close.”
You hear the snap of latex when he removes the condom.
What next? You’re limp and dizzy, lying sprawled across the covers. Will he make me come so hard I pass out? Fuck me until I can't walk straight? You shouldn’t want that as much as you do, but complete surrender can feel so sweet. 
“I can do this all night,” Mando pants.
Then, he lunges across the bed and grabs your ankles so tightly you feel the press of his thumbs dig into your bones as he drags you down the mattress, until your legs dangle off the side. The tips of your toes brush against the floor. 
“You thought you could push me?” His voice has lowered almost to a growl. “But that’s not how this works. You belong to me.”
He pushes your thighs apart roughly, then clutches your hair and tugs back hard enough to bring renewed tears to your eyes. Bent over the edge of the mattress like that in front of him, you feel his other hand seize you by the hip, and with that, he shoves the whole thick length of his cock inside you.
“Aaah!” you cry out as he starts thrusting faster. His fist in your hair tightens as he pumps into you, and already you know you’re going to come again. How is that even possible?
“That’s right,” he pants. “You know you have to take it, don’t you?”
“Yes!”
Yes, make me take it. Gods help you, but you fucking love it. There’s nothing you love more than the slap of his body, the feel of his cock. “Yes!”
"Because you're mine. Mine to fuck."
"Yours...I'm yours."
Mando fucks you so hard and so fast. Your ass would not have been able to take this. Shallow rapid thrusts until, growling, he rams his full length into you. Then he’s pumping inside you again and again. By now, the shame you think you should feel at being taken like this—held down by your hair and fucked with every ounce of strength in his body, every bit of force he can put into it—this has been eclipsed by the pleasure surging within you. 
Every single goddamned stroke of the Mandalorian’s cock sets you on fire. A wildfire so hot it consumes you, burns you down to nothing. You press your face into the mattress and feel the tears welling in your eyes spill down your cheeks, pooling against the sheets.
The only sounds in the cabin are his guttural grunts of pleasure and the slap of your bodies against each other. Just hearing it turns you on even more. 
He’s moving faster now, and you’re nothing but heat. Pleasure tightens, blazing inside you. 
Mando fucks you, and fucks you, and then you’re coming again, clenching around his cock. "Fuck! Oh, fuck! Holy shit...it's so good!"
"There? Right there?"
"Don't stop...please don't stop!"
You come so hard that consciousness is nothing but white light, white noise. Your cry is muffled by the sheets and blankets, but you wail it out anyway, unable to hold back.
“Yes,” he whispers as he pistons even faster than before, his hand on your hip gripping tighter. “Fuck, yes—yes!”
The Mandalorian groans as he throbs inside you. He goes tense, makes an animal sound that seems to come from low in his belly, and slams into you one more time.
Then he’s pulling you off the bed and onto your knees. You feel his wet cock press against your face. His voice is hardly more than a whisper, trembling with need. “Open your mouth.”
His fist in your hair doesn’t leave you much choice. You open, and Mando pushes inside. "You're going to swallow all of it."
It’s all you can do to take him in, to brace your palms against his thighs. You taste your come slick around his cock as it slides between your lips. He’s so huge that you can barely use your tongue, but you bob your head, doing your best as he thrusts, shallow and then deep.
The Mandalorian's grip takes control, sometimes pushing no more than the head of his cock into your mouth, and you suck, hallowing your cheeks—then shoving into your throat, making you choke and gag around him.
It doesn’t take long.
"Haa-aah! Aah!"
He shouts out, and then he comes, filling your mouth with each hot pulsing spurt. You swallow it down, every drop, the sensation of him throbbing between your lips, almost lost in the spasms of pleasure still echoing through you.
The Mandalorian pulls out then. The fingers buried in your hair release their grip. Pausing one long moment to regain his breath, he brushes the sweat-soaked hair from your cheeks. 
“You have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”
Really? Blindfolded. Flushed and sweaty, legs tangled beneath you, slumped against the bed frame?
But the honest tenderness in his voice has you pressing a hand to your chest. 
His cock is still half-hard, nuzzled against your cheek, and there’s a second when you’re tempted to pull him down to slide back onto it. But…you’ve reached your limits. 
And the Mandalorian is in no better shape. You hear him collapse onto his knees beside you on the floor, crawling over on his hands and knees to reach for something. His helmet, maybe?
But it’s not his Beskar. 
Gently, he drapes the soft folds of your robe over your shoulders and gathers you in his arms. He leans back, sitting propped against the bed, settling you onto his lap. You let your head fall against his chest and delight when he rests his chin atop your head. 
“Are you alright?” he murmurs. 
“Yeah,” you manage to form words. “Just give me a second. I’m…melting.” 
That makes him chuckle, and for a while, you both stay like that, laughing, breathing hard, barely able to move.
“I wasn’t too rough?”
“No! No, you were perfect. I loved it. It’s like—like you read my mind from that night we met. It was everything I wanted. You took such good care of me.”
His voice remains concerned. “But you’re shaking all over?” and his arms wrap tighter around you.
“It was just so intense.” 
“Here,” he says pressing a cup of tea into your hands, then lifting it to your lips when your fingers tremble too much to grip it tight enough. Fatherhood has softened him.  
“Are you?” you ask timidly.
“Am I what?”
“Are you okay?” You feel strangely shy in front of a man who just fucked you senseless. “I mean, was it okay that I asked you to do this? Are you okay with being—with what we did?”
“It was amazing,” he sighs, kissing your temple. 
But that doesn’t really answer your question.
Honestly, this is the part you were most afraid of…that it would change everything. That no matter how good the sex had or hadn’t been, you thought, afterward, he’d lose respect for you, and it wouldn’t be worth it. 
You don’t want his judgment or pity for needing this.
But there's no contempt in his voice. He doesn’t sound righteous. Or cold, or callous. And he doesn’t seem intent on sneaking out to leave you alone in regret. 
“Before, I was worried that I might hurt you…and that was hard to balance against my instinct to protect you," the Mandalorian says thoughtfully. "But you made more than enough noise to let me know how much you enjoyed it.”
“Oh gods,” you laugh, clapping a hand over your mouth, absolutely mortified. 
“That was the best part,” Mando lifts your hand from your face, tilting your chin up to kiss your nose, then your lips, not shying away like some men do, after they've come in your mouth. So you part your lips and feel the brush of his tongue against yours. His fingers wrap around your neck, deepening the kiss, and pulling you closer.
It’s not the unbridled passion from before–it’s tenderness and longing. Two lonely hearts finding shelter in a precious moment of fragile intimacy.  
“I was just surprised, given…”
“Some of my clients never touch me. Some have hurt me—said horrific things. Most are rich businessmen,” you shrug. “Nervous about cheating on their wives. Regardless—given what they pay, they all expect a performance... 
So it’s nice to let someone else put in the work,” your lips tug into a sly grin. “Seriously, five times? And your dom talk is shockingly good! The growling is very hot!” Guess it's true what they say about the quiet ones. "Now I get why Anassa keeps offering you a job."
"She told you that?" He scoffs.
"Hmm, she likes to tease me about having a crush on the Mandalorian."
Nestled into the crook of his arm, you feel the rumble of renewed laughter building in his chest. 
"She told me I could keep the armor on."
You reach a hand behind you to stroke his jaw and bury your fingers in his hair. "I'm glad you didn't."
Mando's head turns in your grasp to place a soft kiss against your palm.
“And you don’t think differently of me for…wanting this?”
"I know the difference between fantasy and reality," then he leans forward to stroke your earlobe with the tip of his nose. "And I bet I could make you scream just as loud, taking you soft and sweet."
Now why does that make you blush redder than your slapped ass?
“Maybe next time, we can switch roles. Then I’ll understand better why you like it.”  
Next time? You love that! He’s already thinking about the future. 
Your brow arches, “Maybe I'll tie you up—borrow one of Katlin's whips to smack that tight ass of yours.”
“Oh, yeah?” 
There are no words for the wicked anticipation in Mando’s voice. 
Next time...
****************
Thanks so much for reading!!
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multific · 4 days ago
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A Warrior
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Din Djarin x Reader
Summary: You are awaiting his arrival.
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As you sit on the edge of your chair, eagerly awaiting the return of the Mandalorian, your mind races with anticipation. 
The sound of his ship approaching grows louder and louder, sending a thrill of excitement through your veins. 
You can't help but wonder what adventures he has been on, what dangers he has faced, and what treasures he may have acquired.
You were also thrilled to finally see your son.
When he sent word of his arrival home, you could barely contain your excitement.
You cooked all of his and Grogu's favourites as you waited for them.
Finally, the familiar whirring of the ship's engines fills the air, and you jump to your feet, rushing to the window to catch a glimpse of the Mandalorian's arrival. 
The ramp lowers with a hiss, and there he stands, clad in his iconic armour, a stoic figure against the backdrop of the setting sun.
As he strides towards you, you can't help but feel a sense of awe at his presence. 
The Mandalorian is a legend in his own right, a warrior of unmatched skill and determination. 
You can't help but feel a surge of pride that he has chosen to return to you, to share his stories and his victories.
That he chose you.
As he enters the room, you can see the weariness in his posture, the weight of his battles etched into his features. 
But there is also a glint of satisfaction, a sense of fulfilment that comes from a job well done.
He hands you Grogu as you smile at your little one and hug him. 
You also offer a smile to your Mandalorian before you offer him a seat, pouring him a drink as he regales you with tales of his latest exploits.
You knew he wasn't the hugging type.
You hang on to his every word as he talks, captivated by his storytelling prowess and his quick wit. 
The Mandalorian may be a man of few words, but when he speaks, his words carry weight and authority. 
You can't help but feel privileged to be in his presence, to witness firsthand the legend in action.
As the night wears on, you find yourself drawn deeper into the Mandalorian's world, his stories of adventure and danger. 
"You need to sleep Djarin. You must be tired."
"Put the kid to sleep first." you smiled at him as you left so he could finally eat and drink.
Soon, Djarin came into your shared room. With his weapons safely put away, he joined you in your comfortable bed.
He let out a long sigh.
"Finally home, the kid missed you."
"Only the Kid?" you asked as you turned on your side to face him. He was lying on his back as he let out a low hum. 
"Maybe, I missed you too Meshla."
"Would be weird if you didn't miss your wife, Djarin." his arms moved as he pulled you closer to his body, with his armour also gone with his weapons, he only had his helmet on.
You felt his warmth fill you under the covers.
"I hate leaving you." he admitted.
"I know. But we do need credits to survive."
"I'm sorry that this is the life I can offer."
"Don't be. I was well aware of all of this when I met you and then later we married. If I wanted comfort and luxury I would have married Boba." Djarin pinched your side as you let out a laugh.
"Please, don't let yourself worry about that. I love you, and it is all that matters."
"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum." (I love you) he whispered before he finally allowed his body to relax and fall asleep.
The Mandalorian may be a warrior, but in your eyes, he is a true hero, a beacon of hope in a galaxy filled with darkness.
And he just happened to be your husband.
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Taglist: 
@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 
@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 
@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/
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The Past That Haunts | Din Djarin
Din Djarin x fem!reader ✧ oneshot
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Summary: It's been months since you stowed away on the Mandalorian's ship, running from the ghosts of a past you'd rather forget. You shouldn't have fallen in love, you knew better than to get close, and now you have to pay the penance for your sins. Your past has come back to haunt, and you're his next bounty.
A/N: Really really proud of this one. Should have been studying, but was doing this lol so you all better enjoy. As always, requests are open and I'll get to them when I can because college is insane. Love you all dearly, hope you have a great day wherever you are 🤍
Warnings: violence, sexual themes and suggestive content, mentions of blood, fem!reader, angst, fluff, happy ending I promise (i only like hurting you a little bit, not enough to take away the happy ending)
✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦
No one can run from their past forever.
Lies, secrets, sins—they all have a nasty habit of breaking through the thin soil they've been buried beneath and rearing their heads. What was left behind never stays gone, but rather skitters behind in waiting for the right moment to revive. The past haunts, it stays connected to the essence of a soul and refuses death itself until its dues have been paid.
No one can run from their past forever, not even after you'd almost forgotten it was lurking right there.
And yet, the reason you'd nearly forgotten was laying unconscious in the midst of a hunt he'd dragged you along on.
"Mando, if you're done dreaming of me I could use some backup!" You shout, barely avoiding the clawed fist of the Trandoshan mercenary before you. The bounty was stronger and deadlier than you, but you were faster.
As you danced and weaved around his blows, your eyes slipped to your Mandalorian still unconscious from where the Trandoshan had snuck up on the two of you. This job was supposed to be simple, but even lower grade mercenaries like the one fighting you were still deadly.
With a breath of frustration slipping your lips, your mind quickly raced to try and work out how to get out of this situation. Mando clearly would be no help and while he often punched his way out of problems, you didn't have that luxury. That's why within seconds you whirled around to the mercenary with a nervous smile on your lips.
"My friend, I believe we got off on the wrong foot." Your smile was charismatic as you extended your arms out in welcome to the target. The mercenary snarled at the comment, and you both glanced down to the foot he'd just regrown after Din had managed to chop it off.
You look back up at the reptilian male, a sheepish smile on your lips, "Bad choice of words"
He hissed at you and lunged again, slashing a knife you hadn't even seen him pull. A yelp left your mouth as you dodged the hit, desperately trying to be diplomatic.
"Look, the Mandalorian is out cold," You placated, ducking out of a knife swing by a hair's breadth, "He's the bounty hunter, not me. You and I, we can work something out."
This caught his attention, his yellow-orange eyes tracking your every breath, "You're not a hunter, but you're with the Mandalorian. You wouldn't betray him."
"He doesn't have to know," You reason, shoving every ounce of honey-coated deception you have into your tone, "Look at him! One hit from you and he's out like a light, big guy. There's no way he'll even remember this happened."
The Trandoshan's knife was lowering now, and your heart skipped a beat with hope. This was going to work, and when it did you were going to give Mando hell. You nearly smiled at the thought, but remembered where you were.
"What are your terms?" He hissed, and you take a calculated step towards him.
"I let you go free, and you let me leave with my life." You were getting nearer to the bounty, and he seemed to be so caught up in pondering your bargain that he missed your hand slip to the beskar knife Din had made for you a few months back.
"That seems acceptable," The bounty finally admits, slipping his knife back into its place and surveying you, "I'll-"
With a war cry, you launch yourself at the Trandoshan and jump onto his back, one arm around his neck and the other trying to plunge the beskar knife into his thick, scaled skin. He roars in response, spinning wildly and clawing up at you.
"Just die!" You pant, slashing and seeming to miss every swing.
Din was right, you really did suck at this whole combat thing. It's a good thing you were one hell of a thief.
"Y/N!"
It took more effort than you'd like to admit to keep the relief you felt from crashing over your entire form. Your eyes flicked up mid-spin from your perch on the Trandoshan's back to see the Mandalorian stumbling to his feet.
"Morning, sleepy head! Wanna join the fun?" You breathlessly call out, a tired smile on your lips.
The target takes advantage of your split attention and slices his razor-sharp claws through the tender flesh of your forearm. You clench your teeth to grit through the pain, "Not cool!"
It was mere seconds after the minor blow had been landed that the wild spinning and thrashing of the bounty finally stopped. Your dizzy mind righted to see a gloved hand grab the reptilian male and rip him to a stop.
You slide off his back, groaning to find your balance severely off-kilter. You fall on your ass just as Mando fires a shot at him, slicing it through the target's shoulder and making him roar in pain. His cry is cut off when Mando fires another blast into his skull, making the silence following the thud of the body deafening.
"Cold it is," Mando grunts, holstering the blaster.
The beskar helmet he wears immediately snaps to you, and you've been around him long enough to tell by his body language what he's feeling. Anger, worry, guilt.
Against your better judgement, your heart stutters as Din crouches down in front of you and reaches out for your bleeding arm. The lightning that crackles under your skin as his gloved hands tenderly lift your forearm makes your already dizzy mind spin. It takes the strength you've built up over the last few months to ignore the effect he has on you.
"You waited for a grand entrance, can't say I'm mad," You quip. His shoulders are tight as he keeps his gaze down on your arm.
"I should've seen him coming," Is all he replies, his voice that same sugar-sweet gravel that makes your inhibitions crumble.
"You know, I had it under control until I accidentally made a joke about the foot you chopped off." You laugh, the sound light in comparison to the biting pain, and Din shakes his head.
"That's not funny." He tried to sound convincing, but you could tell he was loosening up now that he'd seen your injury was just a scratch.
"It's a little funny," You fire back, a smile growing on your lips. He looks up at you and that damn mask makes your heart race and your mind wander.
It's the almost imperceptible breathy laugh he lets out, though, that makes you remember how far gone you are when it comes to him.
"I like it when you laugh." Your words are soft, and they're out before you can even think to stop them. Mando goes still before you, your arm still in his grasp. It's then that the position you're in, with him crouched before you, seems much more intimate than it did a few minutes ago.
You go still as one of his hands lifts to your face, and you nearly forget how to breath when he almost absentmindedly brushes a gloved-knuckle against a light bruise forming on your cheek from the fight. His fingers leave fire where they touch, and you can only dream about how it would feel if it were his skin and not his gloves.
He catches himself too quickly for your liking and stands, extending a hand down to you, "Come on, we've got a bounty to cash in."
You take his hand and let him help you to your feet, "I think I deserve a larger cut on this one. I did take him on one-on-one, you know."
"And nearly got yourself killed."
You glance up at him, your brows lifted in a challenge, "I saved your ass, didn't I?"
Din doesn't move back an inch, but rather stays towering over you and cocks his head in response, "Is that so?"
Your heart stumbles yet again. The air is thick with tension and unspoken attraction, and the way he's looking down at you isn't helping. Din is usually as close to void of emotion as he can be, save for his temper and inability to keep from sassing you. It's moments like this though, moments where he's almost playful, that make you remember just how powerful the hold he has on you is.
"Can't deny it this time, Mandalorian." You try to sound cool and calm like he always does, but fail miserably. He just hums before stepping back and breaking the tension-corded air between you.
"Help me get him to the Crest."
And you do, but as you work in the comfortable silence you've grown used to, you can't help but think about how lucky you are. This life, it may seem dangerous and hectic, but it's a blessing to you. It's everything to you. He's everything to you, he has been since the first few moments he found you. There was a sudden tightness in your chest, and you can't help but think of that day—the day your life would never be the same.
||| Months Prior
Your breaths were labored, your legs burned, your vision was blurred with sweat and tears.
You had nowhere to go, nothing in the bustling port town on Corrida could shield you from your fate. Panic clawed up your throat, so thick it nearly choked you.
Not like this, you pleaded to yourself, it can't end like this.
Mind-racing and heart-pounding, you swiftly and nimbly darted in and out of shops and between buildings. You danced in the shadows, became one of them. It was your greatest strength, your stealth, and even though it was what had gotten you into this mess, it was now your only chance at survival.
The day was turning into night, and as light dwindled your hope flared and grew. Once darkness settled over the town shrouded by mountains, your pursuers would lose every chance of finding you. All you had to do was find a way onto a ship and ride it out of this forsaken planet. Then, you'd be-
"Hey, you!"
The voice that rang out sent tendrils of fear to your very bones. You knew that voice. You'd know that voice for as long as you'd live. While there were still thoughts in your brain, that voice would haunt you. You ducked around the alleyway between two shops, your heart racing at a painful speed as you chanced a look in the direction of your old Master.
"You seen a girl running through here?" He snarled, his tone boiling with anger that he thinly kept composed under his Imperial getup. The Empire was gone, but unfortunately the New Republic could not monitor every planet in every system when it fell. You just had the supreme misfortune of dwelling in the town of a group of Imperial officers that refused to back down.
"There's plenty of girls here, be more specific," The shopkeeper he'd asked grunted, going about his work.
Your Master spoke to him for a few more minutes before you forced yourself to slink away, melting into the shadows growing longer as the sky grew darker. As you snuck around the back of the buildings, you heard your Master's voice rise in volume.
"Anyone who finds an indentured woman in a green cloak is to bring her to me, immediately."
You froze, looking down at the cloak around your shoulders. With a pounding heart you shucked it off, cursing the Imperial scum for the clever tactic. Now if he saw you sneaking around, you'd have nothing to hide your face.
Indentured. You bristled at the word, anger flooding your mind. What a pretty way to say enslaved.
You had to get out of here and fast. The Empire might be gone, but this town was still pinned under their thumb. These people wouldn't think twice before turning you over. The satchel that was slung across your body was heavy with the reason why you couldn't let that happen.
With silent steps, you made it all the way to the ship port. There weren't many options present, and the choice would be paramount. Pick the wrong ship, and you'd be cast into the streets for your old Master and his troopers to find you and the item you stole from him that was nestled in the bag you bore.
As you surveyed the ship port, you noted three choices. First, the light freighter that sat loading its cargo near the middle of the port—too busy, too central. Second, the old Razor Crest sitting nearest you—low profile, but you could've sworn you'd just seen a Mandalorian walk into it. That was too risky, too dangerous. Third, and most appealing, the CR90 Corvette—no one dangerous was entering, enough cargo to hide in, it was perfect.
Making your mind, you begin to dart across the ship port, dodging past the Razor Crest and towards the Corvette. It would work, it would be perf-
You skidded to a stop so fast that you nearly tripped and fell. Walking up to the Corvette was your Master, and he'd just begun talking to the owner. Your eyes widened as he motioned to the three storm troopers with him, and they began to search the ship.
This wasn't good, you weren't going to make if off of this planet.
Your eyes wildly searched the port and landed on the Razor Crest just as its back hatch began to close. It wasn't ideal, but it was taking off soon, and that made it your only choice. Holding your breath, you surged towards the beat up ship and vaulted into the space between the closing hatch and the ship's interior. Luckily for you, the Mandalorian you'd seen was in the cockpit taking off when you clanged and rolled into the ship's belly. The engines started and the ship lifted, and before you could comprehend it, you were leaving Corrida.
You escaped. You stole from the Imperial guard Finon Kane, the man who'd enslaved and tortured you and hundreds of others, and escaped. You were free.
A laugh of pure and raw joy bubbled out of your chest as you clutched your satchel close to your chest. You'd done it, you'd actually done it. The other slaves had cheered you on as you made your grand escape, had laughed and whooped with you as you bested Master Kane. And now, you were free.
You barely felt the ship slip out of the atmosphere of the planet as you shoved to your feet. Now was the tricky part—you had to hide from the Mandalorian until he docked somewhere else, and then you could-
A strong, gloved hand closed around your shoulder and whirled you around with such strength and speed that you could only yelp as you were pressed into the cool metal of the Crest's walls. One massive arm barred your throat, and the other held a blaster to your head. The Mando's grip was strong and he oozed confidence, but he was silent.
Silent as death, silent as the reaper in beskar armor.
His shining helmet tilted at you, and your heart dropped to your feet. He hadn't killed you yet, he just kept looking at you, inspecting you, almost testing to see if you were a threat or not. So, he wasn't a cold-blooded killer then. There was a heart, whether it was flesh or beskar, somewhere underneath his armor. You needed to exploit it, and fast.
A shaking smile made it onto your lips and you tried your best to seem as calm as he was, "A Mandalorian, and one with fine armor too. What a pleasant surprise."
"What are you doing on my ship?" Was all he gritted out, his tone rough and smooth all at once. A walking and living dichotomy that, against your better judgement, made your heart trip over itself.
"Is this your ship?" You noted, humming to yourself as your pulse thrummed, "I must have boarded without even looking, it seems so much like mine that I-"
The blaster moved closer to your skin and your words died, your eyes widening as the Mandalorian stared you down through his mask, "The truth, stowaway."
It wasn't a question, but a demand. Flattery clearly wasn't getting you anywhere, so you needed to find a different way.
"I need safe passage," You honestly announced, your charming, hopeful smile still on your lips to persuade him you're not a threat, "And clearly, Mando, you need some help around here. I could be of service to you, I've got a great many skills!"
"Can you hunt?"
He didn't mean animals. That was when you realized this Mandalorian was a bounty hunter, and you cursed every star for crossing your fate into bad luck.
"No, but I-"
"Can you fight?" He interrupted, his voice a calm and collected drill.
"Well, not particularly, but if you'd just-"
"Can you fix the ship?"
You were getting frustrated now.
"Never really been good with mechanics, but-"
"Then you are of no use to me." He decided, letting go of you and holstering his blaster. He stepped back and shuffled through one wall of his ship, looking for something, "I'll dock at the next inhabited planet and turn you over to-"
It was his turn to be cut off, but not by you. Instead, the whooshing of a cabin door opening followed by a child's giggle makes his words die out. Surprise skittered through you at the site. A child. This large, rough Mandalorian Bounty Hunter was taking care of a...a child?
As he stormed over to the little thing, he muttered soft chiding to it before picking it up gently in the hands that just held your life. The child nestled into the crook of his arm, batting its massive eyes up at him lovingly.
And, against every warning and better judgement, your heart, your very soul, melted at the site.
"You're a bounty hunter with a kid?" You asked boldly, stepping forward towards the beskar-coated hunter that turned sharply around to you, the kid still in his strong arms, "And what do you do with it when you're on jobs?"
"He stays here or comes with me," he rasps out simply. You let out a short, unbelieving laugh.
"And you say you don't need my help," You chide, being bolder than you should be and stepping up to the pair. The Mandalorian freezes as you brazenly pluck the child out of his arms, cradling the little one into your torso.
The pure shock of what you've just done makes Mando stand awkwardly, unmoving and sputtering for a moment as he tries to respond. Whatever he's saying keeps dying on his tongue as he watches the child giggle and play with your hair, nuzzling into you the way he was just doing to him.
"I can take care of him while you're on hunts," You reason, looking up at the Mando with a bright, unwavering smile, "And, as I was going to say before you rudely interrupted,"
This shocked the bounty hunter even more. The audacity of this woman, who could neither kill nor fight, to be so bold with him? It struck him into an astonished silence.
"I may not have any of the skills you listed," You continued, looking up at the Mandalorian with his child in your arms, "But I'm amazing at sneaking into places. I'm not a killer, but I'm sure a bounty hunter like yourself could use a good thief."
He crosses his arms at this, cocking his head at you in a way that makes you imagine his face with risen brows and a taunting gaze, "Obviously the sneaking part isn't your strong suit."
"Hey, I got in here, didn't I?" You challenged, holding his gaze before looking down at cooing at the child, "Besides, your little one likes me, don't you sweetheart?"
"Could you give him back, please?"
"What was that?" You hummed, tilting your ear towards the child before smiling at it once more, "I couldn't agree more. Your father does need to lighten up."
The Mandalorian sputtered at her words, not understanding how a little thing like you could have rendered him completely speechless and without knowledge of what to do next. No hunt he's ever been on has ever done that to this extent, and yet here you were. A stowaway that, as much as Din wanted to ignore, needed help. You tried to hide it behind your smiles and remarks, but he could see the desperation in your eyes, the worry in your soul.
You needed help, and damn it all he was going to give it to you.
Din cursed himself beneath his breath, shaking his head at you. If the Guild members knew what a softie he was under this armor he'd lose his entire reputation. He could slaughter targets without faltering, but throw in a child and a smartass stowaway and his spine leaves him.
"I'm not his father," The Mandalorian rebuts, but you can hear the lie in his tone, "I'm just looking out for him"
You scoffed at that, "Leaving him alone, taking him on dangerous hunts? Not things a good father would do."
"Hey I'm a great father!" His temper snapped, and you smiled smugly. You glanced up at him, tilting your head the way he'd just done to you.
"So you are his father?" You challenged.
The Mandalorian started and stopped three different sentences before he let out a defeated grunt and walked towards a far wall of the Crest. He slammed his hand onto a button and the door whizzed open to reveal a spare bedroom with three cots. A hope-filled, bright smile lit up your lips.
He was going to let you stay.
"You can sleep here. You'll earn your keep how you promised, but what I say goes, is that clear?" He ordered, staring you down. Your smile widened, and you noted to your memory the soft side the Mandalorian had that you'd bet only a few people had seen.
"I can't thank you enough, Mando," You responded, and he could see that you meant it. You handed him the child and moved to set your satchel, all that was left of your life, in the room he'd opened.
"Don't mention it." His voice of gravel ordered, and you heard him walking away. You couldn't ignore the sense of safety that he radiated, especially because you hadn't felt safe like this in years.
Thinking he was gone, your smile dropped as you sank onto the cot and rested your head against the cool metal.
"I'm free," You whispered, almost to ensure it was real. A genuine, small smile worked its way onto your lips and into your soul, "I'm free."
The Mandalorian watched from the other side of the ship, and he couldn't help the way his heart tugged. He didn't understand why, but Din knew he cared more than he should have to make sure you stayed free, to make sure you'd smile like that again.
|||
You'd only meant to stay for a little while until you had enough credits and resources to make it on your own. And yet, here you were. It had been months and you still hadn't found a way to leave Din and the child.
He had found ways to make you stay. When he got used to your presence, he found that jobs often went easier with your expertise in stealth. The two of you became a team, and with the child it almost felt like...
Your mind stopped at the word that wanted to come next. Family. You hadn't had one in years, and it scared you because you knew you could do this forever. You'd begun to fall in love with Din Djarin the moment he'd picked up the child for the first time, and by now you were properly whipped.
Once the two of you had the bounty secured away, Din turned to you without leaving room for argument, "Sit down."
You did as he instructed, settling down on the cot in your room as Mando grabbed a med kit and walked back over to you. Even as he sat on the cot across from you, his massive frame shadowed your smaller one.
"Give me your arm," He said quietly, his voice sendings shivers racing down your spine that only worsened when he took your skin into his gloved hands.
He inspected it for a moment before humming, "It's not deep, it should heal quickly without bacta."
You were silent as he worked, something out of the ordinary for you and he knew it. As his skilled hands worked quickly, his modulated voice reached out to you, breaking the silence.
"What is it?"
You knew what he meant. Knowing that he could see through every lie you threw at him, you sighed and settled for the truth.
"Today...scared me."
The words surprised your Mandalorian as he went still before you, his hands faltering with the bandage for only a moment before he continued wrapping your cut.
"The hunt did?" He prodded. You shook your head.
"Seeing you lying there..." You began, and shook your head, the image stuck in your brain, "That's going to haunt me for a while, Din."
He tucked the end of the bandage in, and you kept your eyes down on his work. You couldn't stand to meet his masked-gaze, he'd see the emotion working its way through your eyes. One of his gloved hands hooks under your chin and tilts your head up softly to meet his gaze.
"You saved my life today," He said softly, his thumb brushing gently over your skin, "As much as I hate to admit it."
His words had their desired affect and you laughed softly, shaking your head at him as your soul lightened. Din was right, he was alive and well and it had a lot to do with you. The thought calmed you, but you couldn't hide the way it still scared the very depths of you.
"I should be apologizing to you," Mando started, but you cut him off.
"Din-"
"No, shut your mouth and listen to me for once." His voice was sharp, and it made you go silent with surprise. There wasn't cruelty or anger in that tone. Instead, you found it wavering with what you could have sworn was fear.
The Mandalorian moved his hand from your chin to hold more of your jaw, and with the movement you could hardly think straight, "I almost got you killed today. Had I woken up seconds later, you would have been that Trandoshan's target and not the other way around."
The words made your mouth go dry, and you tried to protest them but Din held you jaw with a gentle firmness and shook his head. It wasn't often that he preferred to do the talking, but you could see how bad he needed you to hear him.
"I'm sorry, cyar'ika. I'm so sorry"
You were stunned into silence. You'd never heard him say any of those words before, not sorry and certainly not cyar'ika. You knew what it meant, and it made your head spin. Slowly, so not to startle him, you lift your hands and rest them on the cool beskar of his helmet. He goes still and you can't help but smile softly at him
"There is nothing to forgive, Din."
His hand drops from your jaw and somehow finds its way absently resting on your waist. The touch sends fire shooting through you, and you have to blink a few times to focus.
"Besides, if I could count the number of times I almost got you killed..." You sentence ended naturally as you laughed softly, and he joined in. The sound was honey to your soul and it made you remember that you'd rather be here than anywhere else in the galaxy.
Much to your disappointment, he pulled away and stood surveying you through his mask, "I should go check on the kid. Get some rest."
And then he was gone, and you spent the rest of the night wondering what in the stars you were going to do.
|||
You docked at Tatooine soon after, the ship in dire need of a tune up.
The last few days had been strange. You'd thought the near death encounter would continue to keep the two of you close like it had that day in your room, but he seemed to be ignoring you at any and all costs. He only spoke to you when he needed to and even then it was clipped and short.
By the time you saw Peli, you were dying to slug him over the head with one of her wrenches.
"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite band of three," The mechanic greets, jogging out to meet you with a smile, "Where's my baby?"
Mirroring her smile, you handed the kid over to Peli who eagerly tucked him close, stroking his long ears and cooing to him softly, "I only tolerate you two for him, you know."
The two of you knew better.
"Can you watch over him for a few hours? We have business here." Mando gruffly stated. You furrowed your brows and glanced over at him.
Business? He hadn't mentioned that to you. Then again, he barely mentioned anything to you these last few days.
"Go, go," Peli shooed, already turning around and walking with the kid back to her lodgings, "He and I will make sure the Crest is all fixed up, won't we precious thing? He loves his favorite aunt, doesn't he?"
Aunt, which would make you and Mando his...You brushed away the thought, not letting it bring you hope or joy. You smiled once more at the mechanic before following Mando as he quickly exited the hangar.
"What business do we have?" You asked. He almost seemed like he was not going to reply before he did so without even glancing at you.
"You'll see."
Your patience was waning, but you went along with it nonetheless. You hadn't been walking long on the desert planet before Mando ushered you in a bar nearby. The business ended up being nothing more than a job hunt, leaving you confused as to why the Mandalorian was being so stand-offish. He'd collected a new round of pucks and then left you to spend your evening alone however you pleased. You didn't know where he went and you didn't quite care. He was being an asshole to you, so you could return the favor.
You returned rather quickly to the hangar and the Crest, finding there was nothing better to do. After a few hours of cards and gambling with Peli and her droids, Mando still hadn't returned and you decided to go ahead and tuck the child in for the night. Bidding you friends goodnight, you hoisted the kid into your arms and climbed the hatch to the Crest.
"What's going on with you father, hm?" You asked softly, bouncing him in your arms. He stared up at you with wide, dark eyes, drinking in every word you spoke.
You walked him over to his makeshift bed, sighing as you settled him in it. You spent a moment longer tracing a finger down his wrinkled skin, a saddened look flickering in your gaze.
"He's going to be the end of me," You whispered, and could've sworn the kid's eyes softened on you. You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his brow and walked out of his room, "Sweet dreams, little one."
When you shut the door, your eyes traveled to the bandage still tied securely around your wounded arm. Although Mando assured it would be alright, it hurt like hell. You made your way into your room, grabbing a med kit as you went. You set the kit down on your bed and opened it, about to tend to your would when you heard footsteps and then the hatch closing to the Crest.
Your heart leapt into your throat and you stepped away from the med kit and out of your room, your eyes traveling over the ship until you saw the flash of beskar in the dark, "Finally, you were starting to worry me."
"I'm sure I was," came Din's response, but his voice made you freeze.
You watched in shock for a moment as he turned and stumbled slightly as he walked towards where you stood. With wide eyes, you barely could speak, "Are you...drunk?"
The Mandalorian came closer to you, his massive body making you take a few steps back. He kept advancing until your back was pressed against the cool metal of the Crest's wall.
"Din," you whispered, your heart racing as he stopped before you, settling his forearms above your head and caging you in. You could hardly think straight with him like this.
"Close your eyes, cyar'ika." His voice came, low and rough and gentle and slurred.
"Din, what-"
"Close your eyes." He ordered again. With him this close to you, your inhibitions were all but gone and you did as he asked, shutting your eyes. Before you, you could hear him let out a long sigh.
"I was thinking," He started, followed by the moving of his arms away from the wall. You furrowed your brows at the absence of his presence, but before another thought could leave, you heard a sound that made your heart stop and your mind go blank.
You heard him take his helmet off.
"Din, you're drunk-" You couldn't make it past that before he was cutting in. He's never taken his helmet off around you, it was the creed. It was his life. He'd regret this in the morning.
"Shut up." He murmured, his body heat returning close to you. Your eyes stayed firmly shut as he told you too, that way it wouldn't break the code he lived by. You felt his hands touch your neck softly and jumped slightly in surprise at the absence of gloves, "I know what I'm doing. Just keep your eyes closed, mesh'la."
His skin. His skin was touching yours.
Your breathing hitched, and you knew when he settled those bare, rough hands onto your jaw that he did so in a manner to feel the thrum of your pulse in your neck. It was wildly racing, quicker than it ever had.
"I was thinking," He started again, running his thumbs over your skin and forever ruining you from contact with anyone else ever again, "That you almost died."
His low voice had taken on an edge of sadness and you nearly opened your eyes out of habit, but forced them to stay closed.
"You almost died, and I never got to know what those pretty lips of yours tasted like"
What in the stars was happening? Was this real? Were you going to wake up and find it was all a dream in a few moments? Or was this finally putting the last few days into context? Even after your talk, the hunt had messed him up and haunted him just as it had you. And now here he was, his breath fanning across your skin and his lips almost brushing against yours.
You never imagined this would happen, not in thirty lifetimes did you think you'd ever know what it would feel like to press your lips against Din Djarin's.
And yet, in the next second, you knew.
Without warning, he captured your lips with his and pressed his body against yours, keeping you against the wall. He grabbed your hands in one of his, pressing them together over your head to keep you from touching his face. As his lips worked desperately, hungrily, passionately against yours, your knees buckled and his free hand slipped around your waist, keeping you from falling.
This had to be a dream, it had to be. This couldn't be real, but it was. You knew that he was drunk and that he'd probably not remember this in the morning. You tried to pull away, tried to force yourself to stop but he held you fast, crushing your body against his and making you forget your own name with his tongue in your mouth.
You didn't want it to end, but you knew it would have to eventually. It would end and you would have to go back to pretending like you weren't in love with him.
As if you'd brought it about by just thinking it, Din's lips left yours. He wasn't kissing you, but he stayed so close that his nose touched yours.
"I'm sorry," He breathed, his lips brushing against yours.
And then he was gone.
You stood there with your eyes closed long after you heard his bedroom door shut. You cursed every star in the sky, because now that you knew what his skin felt like, every moment without it touching you was pure and unbridled torture. This torture was worse than any you'd felt under Master Finon Kane and his troopers.
When you slept that night, you dreamt of Din's lips on yours.
|||
In the morning, you didn't know whether or not Din was going to continue ignoring you, address what happened last night, or pretend like the last few days haven't even happened. When you greeted him in the belly of the ship and he he greeted you the same as he has for months before heading off to find bounties, you realized it would be the last option.
Anything was better than the blatant ignoring, but having him act normal around you was horrific in itself.
"Hey little guy," You greet the child, a smile on your lips as you reached down and stroked his ear. He giggled up at you just as the Mandalorian walked up the hatch and into the Crest.
"So," You began, watching him set down the bag of pucks he collected in town. He goes still for a moment, but keeps his helmet firmly away from you.
"So," He repeats, sounding utterly anxious but trying to play it cool. It makes humor curl in your gut and you decide to push you luck.
"What's the plan for today?" You ask, and from the sigh he lets out you can see he was expected something regarding last night.
"Picked up some pucks in town, we can go through 'em and see what we can do." He responds. You nod, reaching down a hand and letting the child play with you finger.
"So getting drunk isn't in the cards, then?"
The sharp intake of breath from the Mandalorian nearly makes you crack with laughter. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep your humor at just the smile on your lips.
"No." Din replies gruffly.
"That's a shame," You sigh, looking up at him finally to find him already facing you and the child, "I like drunk you. He's fun."
"I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry." He states, making your humor dissipate in record speed. You hold his beskar-covered gaze for a moment, feeling the phantom scrape of his calloused hands on your skin and the touch of his lips to yours.
"Which part?" You ask, holding your breath in a way that made it clear whatever he said next would cement something between the two of you. He stays silent for a long while before walking up to you, the child between the two of you. He reaches down and strokes the kid's head lovingly before looking to you.
"Which part do you want to be the mistake?" Din whispers, the gravel of his tone silky smooth as it caresses you. He's playing with you, you suddenly realize. You played with him with the drunk comment and he's playing back, testing to see which of you will break first.
You have to smother your smile before it can make it to your face.
"Careful Mando," You respond, your tone barely stable, "You've got a clan of two to protect. I-"
"Three."
He interrupts you with such a sure, calm voice that you almost miss what he says, "What?" You whisper, your teasing gone.
"Three," Din repeats, "Clan of three."
Before you can respond, a nonsensical babble from below makes the two of you look down to see a confused and yet very aware child. His smalls hands are holding your fingers and Din's hand is on his ear, and for a moment it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
But then you and Din come to your senses, and you mutually decide to push off the game of testing the tension until it breaks again.
"We should go through those pucks," Din states, walking away and to the sack he set down earlier. With a smile that you're glad he doesn't see, you wonder how much longer you can go without telling him what he really is to you. You repeat what he said to you in your mind.
Clan of three.
Mando dumps out the bounty pucks, sorting through them as you lean against the wall, your arms crossed and giving your input with each one he clicks open.
"Another mercenary, set on Naboo." Mando announces, the picture of the target hovering over the puck. You click your tongue.
"After the Trandoshan, I think we should take a break from mercenaries," You advise, earning a nod of agreement from Din. He sets the puck aside and grabs another, clicking it on.
"This one's on Tatooine, but I think I'm ready to see something besides this desert planet," The Mandalorian notes, and you hum your agreement.
"Trees would be nice, like on Felucia" You add, an absentminded smile growing on your face, "Or maybe a nice water planet."
"Water and this armor don't go together, mesh'la"
You smirk at him from your spot at the wall, "All the more reason to go."
His sudden laugh is enough to make every sorrow remotely near your mind melt away. Everything is back to normal, everything is going well, everything is beautiful.
Until he clicks open the next puck.
That's when your world comes crashing down.
The silence that settles over the cabin is thick and unlike the comfortable one you are used to. Mando goes as still as death before you, his body taught under his armor. Horror, real and true, washes over every fiber of your being.
Because that's your picture on the bounty puck, and the one who put it out is Finon Kane.
No. No. This isn't real, this isn't happening.
Din says your name, slow and guarded.
No, not when everything was perfect. Not when you'd found your family, your clan.
You begin to shake your head, all of those years of torture and darkness roaring through your mind. You'd just begun to forget it all, truly forget it all.
But you guess it's true what they say, you really can't run from your past forever.
"Y/N, what-"
You're shoving through the Crest towards your room, leaving Din in stunned silence until he comes to his senses and follows.
"Where is it, where is it, where is it?" You mumble, blinding panic tearing you apart as you rummage wildly through your belongings. It only takes a few seconds before your hands close around your satchel, and your chest doesn't loosen even an inch when you lift it and find it still heavy with the item that is dooming you.
You clutch the satchel close and sling it across your body, standing to leave your room only to find Din blocking the path with his massive body.
"Cyar'ika, what's going on?" His voice is commanding as usual, but it holds an edge of panic that you can't deny.
You feel like a cornered animal, and your fingers clutch the strap of your bag tightly.
"Mando, move." You plead, moving to go around him only for him to grab your shoulders and pull you back.
"No, Mando move!' You beg, pulling against his hold, "Din please."
"Stop it!" He orders, holding you fast, his chest heaving with worried breaths. He stares at you for a moment before it seems to click in his mind, "What were you running from?"
You know what he refers to, you mind zipping back to that moment when you stowed away on his ship. Your silent for a long while, your panic not lowering an ounce. You've always felt safe with Din, always. You long to tell him everything, to let him help you because you know he'd never hunt you. You'd feel safe, but you wouldn't be safe.
The Mandalorian couldn't protect you from this, but you could protect him from it.
"I stole something," You whisper, your voice barely above a breath, "And my old master won't stop until he has it and me."
"What did you take?" Mando asks, his tone flooded with calculation as he tries to figure a way out of this, "If we hunt him down first, we can-"
"Din," Your voice breaks as you cut in, placing one hand on the beskar chest plate and longing for the feel of his skin again, "My reaper has come for me. And I can't let him take you too"
Before he can get out another sentence, you use your free hand to search in your satchel until your fingers close around the cool metal of what doesn't belong to you.
Then you pull out the lightsaber you stole and crack the butt of it so hard against the Mandalorian's helmet that he drops to the floor, unconscious.
He taught you that move with a blaster.
And now, you've saved his life with it.
You stand for a moment in silence, your heart slowly shattering in your chest as you look down at the love of your life. Tears cloud your vision, and you look up to see the child looking at you with confused eyes. You break, a sob wracking your body as you bend down to the Mandalorian's slumped body grip his gloved hand, pulling it up to place a kiss to his palm.
"I'm sorry," Your words mirror his from last night, and then you're pocketing the lightsaber that once belonged to the Empire and running out of the Razor Crest.
You're now his bounty, and if he knows what's good for him he'll let this one go.
Let you go.
||| Din Djarin
When the Mandalorian awoke, he was alone.
There was one heart-breaking moment of confusion as he sat up from his slumped position on the floor. It wasn't silent, but there was something missing in the array of noises. There was no laughter, no yelling. There was no light-hearted remarks, no sarcastic punches.
There was no her.
The thought jarred him so deeply from his newly-conscious muddled mind that he shoved himself to his feet, his heart pounding so loud in his chest that he could feel every thrum.
This wasn't happening. She wouldn't have just left, she wouldn't.
He stumbled out of her small room, his gaze wildly shooting around the Razor Crest. The child lay exactly where Din remembered, right before...
What the hell happened? How did he-
The memories came back in a rush—the hand on his chest that had distracted him as her other hand grabbed something from her satchel, something metal and cylindrical. She'd hit him with it, whipped it across his head like he'd taught her. She must've gotten the blaster...no, it wasn't a blaster. It was...it was...
Stars
A lightsaber. She'd stolen a lightsaber all those months ago.
The thought made his head spin and it took a great deal of effort to keep his knees from buckling. Whenever she'd spoken of her past, it had been vague. Mentions of an Imperial encampment even after the Empire's fall, the shoving of her city into slavery, the torture she endured at the hands of her master.
The very thought made him clench his jaw. The first time she'd spoken about this Finon Kane, he'd wanted to find him and slaughter him with his bare hands for ever laying a finger on her. And now...now he had a bounty on her and Din wasn't there to protect her.
The thought spurred him back into action. Din scooped up the child into his hands before rocketing down the hatch of the Crest and towards where Peli worked with her droids. The mechanic seemed slightly nervous, almost as if she was avoiding his gaze.
"Mando, off to do a hunt?" She asked, trying to sound casual and failing. Din didn't falter as he walked up and shoved the child into her arms. Peli startled as she took the kid, looking up at Din with wide eyes. She couldn't see the Mandalorian's face, but it was clear to anyone the pure, guttural rage tangling with a panic he's never known.
"What-"
"Where did she go?" He demanded. The mechanic sputtered for a moment, holding the child close.
"I don't know what you mean," Peli tried, and Din almost growled.
"Peli if you don't tell me where she went I will rip your tongue out," Din snarled. The woman looked at him desperately, her gaze torn.
"She told me not to tell you, Mando. How do I know you're not going to..." Her words died out and it took every ounce of Din's restraint to keep from yelling again.
"Hurt her?" He finished for the mechanic, his voice just as lethal when it was quiet, "She's in danger, Peli. Real danger, and if you don't tell me where she went someone else is going to find her first and she'll...she'll-"
He could't get the words out, couldn't hide the panic flooding his tone. Din didn't know what he'd do if someone else found her first, he couldn't even comprehend that she wasn't with him right now. He didn't think he'd ever have to know what it felt like for her to be absent. The mechanic softened immediately, letting out a long sigh.
"She didn't say exactly where she was going," Peli finally admitted, holding the kid tighter, "Just that she needed to get as far away as she could as fast as possible. When I asked, she said something remote, something green. She took the spare ship in the hangar an hour ago."
Mando didn't need an exact answer to know where she was going, he knew. With a brisk nod of his head, he gestured at the kid as he walked towards the Crest, "Watch him for me?"
Peli nodded, "Of course. Do you think she'll...do you think she'll be okay?"
The Mandalorian stopped, looking over his shoulder slightly so that the mechanic was in this peripheral vision.
"If she isn't, I'll burn the planet down."
With that he was getting on the Crest, his heart hammering in his chest and fear, real fear, flooding every part of his being. He shut the hatch and practically vaulted into the cockpit. Din threw himself into the captain's seat and swiveling to face the control panel. He didn't hesitate as he put in the coordinates. She mentioned trees earlier, and he knew the way she thought, knew she was smart enough to go somewhere with more jungles than cities right now.
Felucia.
He'd go, he'd find her, he'd knock her upside the head for running away from him, and he'd get her back.
And stars help anyone he’s found has so much as touched her.
||| You
It was strange, being on the run again.
Even though it hadn't even been a full year since you last were sprinting from your reaper, it has felt like a lifetime because of your company. Time slowed down with Din Djarin, and for a long while you felt safe, protected, home.
And now you were scrambling around, planet to planet, in the dark alleyways and through dense, uninhabited forests to put distance between you and...
You stopped for a moment, your back pressed up against a tree in the rich, winding forest of Felucia. Who were you trying to put distance between?
Finon Kane, his squadron of stormtroopers, and the only real family you've ever had.
That last one sent a spear of heart-wrenching pain racketing through you. Typical, so very typical, to find something so worth having and to think the galaxy would let you keep it. This galaxy was cold and cruel, it was a better thief than you'd ever be and you knew it, you knew it. And yet you let yourself get close anyways. It's a strange thing what love can do. It made you reckless enough to think that for once, just once, the galaxy would let you make it away with what you found.
It turns out you aren't as good of a thief as you thought, because the happiness you stole has been returned, and your time playing at a good life has run out.
You picked up your brutal pace again, trekking through the jungle and refusing to stop for even the barest of needs unless it was unavoidable. This would never end, this hunt. As you moved, the lightsaber in your bag banged against your hip, reminding you of what had gotten you into this mess in the first place.
You shouldn't have taken it, you really shouldn't have, but you couldn't stand to watch Master Kane take another slave's life with a weapon that didn't belong to him. He'd found it in the rubble of the fallen Empire and he thought he was entitled to it. It had been used as a weapon of terror during the Imperial rule and then after because of your master, and taking it? You'd not only done it so the weapon could be given back to the New Republic where it belonged, but because after everything he'd done to you, after all of the scars you bore because of Finon Kane, you'd wanted to hurt him. You had wanted him to feel every ounce of pain and desperation you had, and for that cause, you were willing to pay the price that was now due.
The jungle-covered planet would do well to hide you for a little while, give you time to gather up some credits in case you needed to run again. You walk around a grove of trees, the jungle beginning to thin the closer you get to a city. As you do, a sound you're all too familiar with makes you stop dead in your tracks.
A steady beeping, consistently increasing as it gets louder.
A tracking fob.
You barely have time to scramble around to the back of a thick tree when a blaster sounds out behind you, singing the side of the tree where you'd just been standing.
"Come on out, thief! I get more credits for bringing you in alive." The gruff voice of a bounty hunter wafts out to you, a hint of smugness in her tone.
Your mind is grappling for options as you sprint away from your tree and towards another thicket up ahead. Your feet are silent on the grassy floor and you deftly miss any roots in your path, so the bounty hunter doesn't notice you at first. When she does, it's made known by the firing of the blaster at your back.
Gratefully, the hunter has horrible aim.
Blast after blast burn into the trees around you, so you continue to stick close to them as you run. How the hunter found you is incomprehensible, but you don't waste time worrying about that matter and sprint for your life towards the city that thrives just outside the jungle's end. The only tricky thing would be making it across the large clearing between the end of the trees you were approaching and the city gates up ahead.
"Get back here!" The hunter shouts to you, falling further and further behind.
You allow the hint of a smile, but don't dare to slow down. The end of the jungle is growing nearer, and it's only a minute or so of sprinting before you're at the city g-
Another bounty hunter steps out from around the last tree in the clearing, a blaster held lazily in his hands. You skid to a stop so suddenly that your feet slip on the floor and you have to catch yourself with a hand to the jungle floor to keep from falling on your ass. You whirl around to go back the way you came only to come face to face with the other hunter ho had already been pursuing you approaching, her chest heaving with breath but her blaster lifted nonetheless.
"Nowhere to run, thief," The one behind you lilts, his voice heavy with experience and sounding almost bored, "Surrender now and I'll let you keep your life."
"I saw her first, the bounty's mine!" The first hunter grits, her eyes flicking from your face and to the hunter behind you. You turn halfway to keep them both in your vision, your heart pounding in your chest.
"You would've lost her if it wasn't for me," The other counters, both of their blasters lowered slightly. You would make a run for it, but you're directly in the middle of the quarrel, and they'd have you dead in seconds. So, you do the only thing that can save you, the thing you've wanted to do for months now.
You pull the lightsaber from your satchel, clutch it in both hands, and turn it on.
The argument between the hunters dies as a burning blade, as red as death and blood and anguish, ignites into the green of the forest. The two colors clash, one seeming wrong with the other, but you clutch it nonetheless and move before they can lift their weapons again.
"That's a..." The male hunter stands shell-shocked, his words dying as he watches you advance on the female hunter who has already begun firing at you.
You're clumsy with the foreign weapon, but her bad aim and you're mild understand of how to move the saber allows the blasts and blade of the same color to clash as they collide, saving you from the death her weapon assures.
Her weapon may bring death, but yours is death.
She nearly blasts your head off, but you manage to shove the lightsaber through her middle before she gets another shot out. Her strangled gasp followed by the thud of her body into the ground nearly makes you falter, but the sound of the other hunter approaching snaps you out of your own mind. It was you or them, you assure yourself.
You'd wounded the other hunter quickly, grounding him before turning the saber off and sprinting for the city ahead. As you did, you shoved the blade into your satchel and barreled through the open gates, the merchants and travelers bustling through gasping and yelping as you shoved through them. The second you were inside, you stopped running and allowed yourself to meld into the crowd, walking in their flow and moving in their manners. It was mere seconds before you were blended into their midst, the only difference between you and them being your heaving chest and singed clothes from a blast or two that got dangerously close.
You thought you'd made it out before a figure shot out of the alleyway you were passing.
A gasp left your lips as they grabbed you and tugged you inside faster than you could comprehend. Before you could reach for the saber in your satchel, the bag was ripped clean off your shoulder, nearly dislocating the limb in the process and making a cry of pain leave your lips. The sound couldn't even make it fully out before you were being pressed against the sand wall of a building with the steel edge of a blade at your throat.
Your eyes were wide and wild as they took in your surroundings—two hunters surrounded you expectantly, not counting the one holding you at knifepoint. They must have agreed to a split bounty and a temporary alliance.
"Check the bag," The one holding you grunts out. On command, one of the two standing around you searches the bag he'd ripped clean off, his hand rummaging through until a sickening smile lit up his lips. Slowly, he pulled the lightsaber out.
"It's here." His response was smug and nauseating. You knew this was going to happen, but you thought you'd have a least a bit more time before it did.
"Haven't seen a real lightsaber before," The other muses, the two of them in the back looking over the silver and gold-plated handle, "You're going to make us rich, girl"
"Give it-" You struggled against the hold of the hunter only for the knife to cut down into the tender skin of your neck, making your words collapse into a breathy cry of pain. He kept the knife embedded slightly into your skin, his eyes boring into yours as a smirk captured his lips, "Move again, and I'll knick an artery on accident. Then, we can see how long it will take for the life to drain out of your eyes."
The word accident rolled off his tongue with a promise, and you fought back a shiver of fear. The press of the burning steel in your flesh was agonizing, and you realized all at once that you were going to die. Whether it was here and now with this group of hunters or when they handed you off to Finon Kane, you were going to die.
The thought made your body grow suddenly cold.
You'd spent so many years thinking that you'd never have a family again, that you'd never know what it meant to love and be loved. It became your bleak reality, and then you quite literally stumbled into the two individuals that would become your entire world.
It was selfish of you to stay, so damn selfish. Deep down, you had known that Kane would put a bounty on your head, that he'd find you one day and make you pay for every bit of trouble he'd endured because of you. Yet you did it anyway. You stayed and you let yourself grow attached beyond hope.
You let yourself fall in love, and that was possibly the worst of the sins you'd committed.
And, just like the other sins, you had thought you could run from that one, thought its penance would never arrive. Now here you were, facing death at the hands of those in the very same profession as your Mandalorian while he was far away on Tatooine, probably wondering what had gone wrong. You knew you'd hurt both him and the child by leaving, but you would rather they be hurt and alive than dead.
"Now," The one holding you announces, stepping back and easing the knife out of your throat, "It's time to bring you to your master in top shape."
You barely had time to register the warm blood trickling down your neck from the cut of the hunter's knife before his fist was cracking against your cheek. The force of the unexpected blow slammed your head into the wall and brought you crashing to the ground. Your groan was just out of your mouth when the next blow came, this one to your ribs. A cry of pure agony slipped out as a loud crack resounded amongst your rib cage with the powerful kick, making tears collect in your eyes.
You felt utterly helpless as you desperately tried to lift yourself off of the ground, but you were so tired. You were utterly exhausted, and it took every ounce of your strength to pull out your beskar knife and slash the tendons along the back of one of the hunter's heels. Purple blood sprayed and he shouted, collapsing to the floor beside you.
"Get back here, you little bitch!" One seethed, grabbing you by your hair and yanking you up to your knees. Before your eyes could focus on where he was, you slashed with your knife. He must have seen it coming because he grabbed your wrist in a bruising grip.
"Drop the knife," He growled, one of his hunter companions still on the floor clutching his ankle and the other standing by the one who held you, the lightsaber handle in his hands.
"Give me the saber," You bargained breathlessly, your voice crutched with torment.
The hunters didn't like that very much, and the one holding the saber slammed it against your cheek. You took the hit with a groan, enough pain already crawling through you that you barely even felt it.
"This isn't a negotiation," The one holding you gritted, "Drop. The. Knife."
It was stupid, and you knew that you should just listen at this point, but you couldn't stop yourself from lifting your chin stubbornly and holding his gaze, "You'll have to break my hand."
"With pleasure," He snarled, his grip tightening on your wrist. Before he could snap it, a low, modulated voice rasped into the alley.
"Break her hand, and I'll make sure your death is the slowest."
You shut your eyes instantly, your shoulders loosening with both relief and agony. He'd come for you. Din had found you, and you couldn't stop the bittersweet feeling crashing through your soul. You wanted to hate him for it, wanted to scream at him and knock the sense of your desertion into his brain. But you knew you weren't capable of hating Din Djarin, not even if you wanted to. Especially not now as he stood like a dark angel in the entrance to the alleyway, glowering with rage wholly directed at the hunters left standing.
"This is our bounty, Mandalorian," The one holding the lightsaber sneered, "Find another-"
He was dead before his sentence could complete, his neck twisted at a wrong angle from where Mando had snapped it with his bare hands.
That made the one holding your wrist let go of you instantly.
"Y-You can have her, she's all y-yours Mandalorian." He stumbled back, running into his downed companion who had finally managed to limp to his feet.
Din didn't respond as he stooped slowly, grabbing the lightsaber and slipping it along his holster. He was as silent as death as he stalked up to you, his beskar clinking slightly in the tense silence. You were still on the floor, your skin bloody and your heart pounding so fast you thought it would burst. You wanted to crash into him and hold him, never letting go. You wanted to let him take you back to the Razor Crest and help you figure all of this out. You were safe with him. But he wasn't safe with you, and neither was the child. You had to protect the child, you had to protect Din.
The two remaining hunters were frozen in terror, trapped in the dead end alley like cornered prey. Din stopped in front of you, his mask peered down at you as his hand reached out. Much gentler than you could even imagine, his hand softly gripped your chin and tilted it upwards and to the side so he could see the blossoming, nasty bruise on your cheek.
His gentle fingers were in a fierce dichotomy with the rigid, furious posture of his body. Mando slid them down, leaving lightning where he touched as he lightly traced the cut in your neck. Your gaze locked with his mask, and he held it for a long minute. Then, he dropped his hand and cocked his head over at the two hunters.
"Which one cut you, cyar'ika?" His voice was dark and tender all at once, and it sent a shiver racing down your spine.
"The one limping," You responded without hesitation, your eyes up on him as he nodded once and began to stalk towards the two hunters.
Confusion rippled across their features, and the one who hadn't cut you was quick to shove his ally in front of him. Their loyalty only ran monetary, and even though you knew it wouldn't save his life he had to try.
"What are you doing? I t-thought you were a hunter!" The hunter who the Mandalorian had his sights on was shaking with terror, and it brought you a wicked sense of justice.
"I am."
The next few moments passed in a mess of beskar and knives and blood. The last remaining hunter could only watch in horror as Din ripped his colleague apart with a confidence that could make any skilled fighter wary. The man's pleas and cries were shrill, and the people on the main road were wise enough to keep walking as they passed.
Then, it was quiet. And Din turned to the last hunter pressed against the wall across from you.
"No, please. I'll tell you anything you want, I'll give you anything please!" He begged, but his hurried words were cut off by Din's hand on his throat. He tugged the hunter close, his beskar helmet splattered with blood.
"If you find anyone taking her bounty, tell them what happened here. Make sure they know they will suffer the same fate. Understand?" Din's tone was taught with thinly veiled anger, and you could tell that it was an effort to keep from killing the man.
The hunter nodded briskly, his eyes wide and his legs trembling. When the Mandalorian finally released him, he was sprinting out of the alley, leaving a tense silence to settle over the two of you that remained. Din turned towards where you still sat on the ground, and as he walked over you were suddenly aware of the conversation that was about to happen, the anger he was about to rain upon you.
Mando extended a hand down to you, which you took and gladly accepted his help as you stood. Your hand gingerly pressed against your cracked rib, every breath and every minuscule movement sending sharp, shooting pain through the area, "You alright?"
"I will be," You nearly whispered, you eyes locked onto his brooding, helmeted stare. There was only mere inches between the two of you, and you knew that if you stayed this close, you wouldn't be able to leave again. You went to step back, but he tightened his hold on your hand enough to keep you close.
"Let me go," You breathed, the words meaning more than just physically.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Din gritted out, his voice conveying the worry and hurt and anger that his mask hid. His voice broke your heart.
"Din, you have to let me go." You were almost begging now, and you could feel the tears welling in your eyes. He shifted his hold so that he was holding both of your hands, probably to keep you from reaching for the saber at his belt.
"Not again," He vowed, his usually collected voice portraying how barely bridled his emotions were, "Not until you tell me why the hell you left me."
You were silent for a moment, trying desperately to find a way to speak without showing just how deeply this was shattering your heart, your soul.
"Did you really think I would turn you in? That I would collect your bounty?" Din asked finally, his voice breaking.
"No," Your shaky voice finally began to work, growing stronger by the moment, "That's the thing, Mando. You wouldn't, which means when these hunters came looking for me, they'd find you and the child."
"You think I can't protect you?"
"Din, I have never known safety until I met you," You swore, the tears collecting in your eyes beginning to fall, "But the man who's hunting me, Finon Kane? He will stop at nothing until he has me and the lightsaber. If I had stayed, I would be giving you and the child a death sentence."
"Y/N, you're staying with me." The Mandalorian asserts, his voice trembling. You shake your head, your tears falling steadier now.
"Din please, you have to leave me here. Protect the child, it's your duty. You have to forget you ever knew me, forget I was ever with you, forget me."
"You think I could do that?" He cuts in abruptly, tugging you closer to show the urgency and truth of his words, "You think I could ever walk away and just forget you?"
His words were dangerous, and you tried to stop him, "DIn-"
"You have ruined me, ner cyar'ika. Every moment I spend away from you is torture, it's a moonless night that never ends."
His words leave you breathless, your eyes wide and your heart stumbling in your chest as you try and fail to find a response. He won't let you speak, though.
"The child and you? You are my clan, my family. You two are all that I have, and I am nothing without you," He's so close now that you can almost hear the unmodulated tone of his voice. Din lets go of one of your hands to rest at the base of your neck and bring your head close to his. What he does next...it's a moment that will forever be etched into your brain.
He brings his forehead to yours, and he leaves it there for a moment. The cool metal of his helmet bleeds into your skin, and you can't stop the soft gasp that leaves your lips. You grab onto his beskar-plated chest for support because you know what this is. On easy nights, Din would often sit and tell you stories of the Mandalorian culture. He spoke once or twice of the Keldabe kiss, a gesture meant to show love and affection. The meaning of this moment was not lost on you, and it nearly ripped out your heart to think that he could...that he could love you back. He possibly loved you and now you were about to die.
"I'm not leaving you," Din murmured, the cool beskar of his mask pulling away from your forehead. You felt the cool metal of something pressing into your hands and you look down to see him handing you the lightsaber, "We'll end this together."
You couldn't look away from him, couldn't bring yourself to walk away again. You were being selfish and stupid, but with what just happened, with what Din had just said, you couldn't leave him.
You simply nodded, "Okay."
Din nodded as well, stepping back from you, "Okay."
There was a moment of tension between the two of you, a moment where each was waiting for the other to say something more, to mention those three words that had yet to be spoken. You watched him walk towards the alley exit, following slowly behind. He'd begun to say some sort of strategy, but you weren't listening. You didn't know what was going to happen next, you didn't know how much time you had. You needed to say it, and you needed to say it now before you lost this chance.
"Mando?" You cut in, making him pause and look over at you as you entered the streets of Felucia, "I love you"
The Mandalorian froze, his muscles going taught. The bustling world around you seemed to dull for a moment, and all that was left was you and him. Your heart pounding in your chest and you felt your breaths getting shorter and shorter as you waited for his response.
You heard Din take in a breath to respond, but someone beat him to it.
"So this is what you've been doing all this time."
It was your turn to freeze, and your gaze was still locked on the Mandalorian's as your eyes went wide with fear, with terror. You knew that voice. You'd know that voice if the galaxy ended and then begun again a hundred times over.
Slowly, you turned to face Master Finon Kane and the six storm troopers that flanked him.
"I believe you have something of mine," Kane cut straight to the chase, his troopers making quick work of clearing the street while he stood not ten paces from you. Your fingers tightened around the handle of the lightsaber still in your grasp, and you saw Kane's eyes dart down to it.
"Hand it over now, and I might consider killing you. Your Mandalorian doesn't scare me."
There was no hiding the blatant horror inundating you. Those words, you knew what they meant. You preferred death to what you knew life with Kane would promise. Staring into his eyes, you were reliving every moment of pain you'd endured at his hands—every beating, execution, and humiliation, they haunted you.
You didn't know when Din had moved to your side, but you felt the nudge of his body next to yours, and it knocked you from your spiral. He was letting you know that he was there, that he wasn't going anywhere. And, looking at the odds, you could honestly say that the two of you had fared worse.
“Stand down and I’ll make your death quick,” you fire back, your voice surprisingly strong. Kane barked out a laugh as the six troopers fell into line behind him.
"You can't kill me, pet. You know it and so do I." With a flick of his fingers, his troopers were moving, two next to Kane and four fanning out in front of us.
"I know that," You responded quietly, but not weakly. Your fingers barely brushed against Din's hand, the movement so small it was imperceptible to those before you, but the way his fingers touched yours gave you the assurance that you were about to make the right move, "But he can."
The troopers couldn't even raise their blasters before Din and you moved on them. The next few moments were a blur, shining beskar and frantic blasts missing their targets as Din cut down the troopers with ease. You could hear feel the blast of the fire caster on his wrist as he incinerated two more.
He had four dead before you could even turn on the lightsaber.
Your eyes shot to Kane's, whose were wide with shock and a bleat of panic when he saw your hands move to grasp the lightsaber before you.
"Don't-"
His cry died in his throat when the red saber born of a bleeding, hate-filled kyber crystal ignited before you. You barely new how to use it, but it wasn't difficult to shove the burning side into the armor of the troopers.
Then, it was silent.
Din sauntered up beside you, standing tall and strong with his helmet cocked intimidatingly at Kane. You didn't turn off the lightsaber, but let its red light cast a vengeful glow across your features.
"You think you're so clever," Finon Kane spat, his desperation betraying him, "You think you could so easily b-"
His words were cut off by the hiss of a lightsaber meeting flesh, and something in your chest loosened as you looked up from where you had shoved the saber deep into his belly. Your old master's eyes were wide and his mouth gaping. He was shocked, he really hadn't thought you could do it.
"For every friend of mine you slaughtered," You grit out, shoving the lightsaber an inch deeper and making him cry out in pain, "Their souls are avenged."
He was dead before his body hit the ground, and you simply sheathed your lightsaber, looked to your Mandalorian, and walked away. You didn't realize that you were trembling until the two of you walked outside the city gates and Din's hand grabbed onto yours, large and warm and sure. The Razor Crest sat waiting ahead of you, and you nearly buckled and sobbed in relief.
"It's over," You whispered, you eyes dazed and your words no more than a breath as the gravity of what just happened crashed over you.
You stopped walking in front of your beloved ship, turning to face Din as he did you, "I'm...I'm free"
You let out a breathy, wild, joyous laugh and launched forward, wrapping your arms around the Mandalorian's neck. He paused only for a moment before you felt him melt into you, his hands slipping around your waist and holding you closer than life.
"Thank you, Din," You whispered, your words a vow and a prayer, "I am forever in your debt."
His hold on you tightened, one hand slipping up your back to hold more of you to him, "You owe me nothing. Your life is yours to hold, you are no longer in the service of any master."
Tears you hated to acknowledge slipped down your cheeks, and you were glad to be pressed so close to him so that he couldn't see them fall. He knew, though. He knew.
You didn't want to pull away, didn't want to know again what it felt like to be away from him. Eventually, it could not be avoided. You wanted to get on the Crest and fly away from this place, to bring your life back to the normal you'd fallen so deeply in love with, the one with the child and the bounties and the adventure and him. Especially him.
"Now," You announced, your tone light and jovial as you pulled away and looked up at Mando with a smile, "Where's the child? I'm sure he's been miserable without me,"
You began to walk up to the Crest, but you hadn't realized that the Mandalorian hadn't followed you until his voice called out and made you pause.
"He's with Peli, safe and sound."
You stopped in your step and turned around to see Din walking slowly up to where you stood. Something in his tone made your heart jolt. Your voice was no more than an unsure whisper when you spoke next, "That's good."
Din hummed, and the sound made every thought abandon your mind. He stopped in his gait when he was just in front of you, but not as close as you thought he'd be.
"Are we going to...get on the ship?" You asked, for the first time unaware of what he was going to do next.
"We will," He finally responded, taking one step closer to you and suddenly making you realize why he'd left the room that was quickly dissipating. He was torturing you, playing with you, and once again uncaged butterflies swarmed your insides, "But first, I want to talk about what you said earlier."
His voice was low and smooth and sure, in direct contrast to your trembling one as you tried to act cool. He was making you squirm and he loved it, "You'll have to be more specific, Mando."
Din took that last step closer to you, nearly closing the gap as he tilted his masked face down at you in a way that had your head spinning, "You know what I'm talking about, mesh'la."
You grappled for a response, you really did, but you didn't know what to say, didn't know how you could possibly respond cooly to that.
"Look at you, finally the speechless one." His voice was taunting and you could hear the smile in it. He grew more serious as he slowly pulled off one of his gloves and achingly slow brought his calloused hand to brush against your cheek. His skin on yours again almost had you buckling to the ground.
"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar'ika," Din's words blanketed over you with such a tenderness that your mind raced to understand what they meant. You didn't have to think long, because Din held your chin and brought his beskar-masked forehead to yours, "I love you too, sweetheart."
In all the years of captivity under the Imperial rule on Corrida, you never thought you'd hear those words again, I love you. They were sacred and seldom spoken, and you had stopped hearing them long before your family was taken from you. And now here you were, pressed close to Din Djarin, a Mandalorian whose ship you stowed away on in pure coincidence, and you were hearing those words be said to you in a way that no one had before.
His voice was quiet and playful as he leaned closer to your ear, "And I've got plenty of ways to show it once you get your ass on the damn ship."
Din stepped back from you and turned, walking to the Crest as if he hadn't just promised you everything you've been dreaming of for months. With your pulse thrumming wildly, you followed after him.
"What about the lightsaber? We need to return it to the New Republic," You called out.
The hatch opened to the crest and he walked in without looking back, "They can wait. I can't."
Your cheeks were warm with a blush as you followed him into the Crest, and you couldn't help but wonder how you'd gotten this lucky, what you had done to deserve this. You didn't know, but all you knew was that you'd waited for long, torturous years to have the freedom of forever, and here it was. Here he was. Din Djarin was your forever, no matter how long the breath was left in your lungs.
Your past had finally died, and the ghosts had stopped haunting you. Your present was now your future, and you'd never look back again.
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pedropascallme · 20 days ago
Text
☆Kinktober 2024☆
Day 9: Size kink
Pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader
Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) size difference/size kink, mentions of masturbation (f), oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v sex, creampie, kinda fluffy? almost? If I missed anything please let me know!
You’d always considered yourself average as far as Tattooine was concerned. For a human, you were average height, average build—average, average, average.
But Din had a way of carrying himself that made you feel more important by proxy. People moved out of your way, averted their gaze, as if you were an extension of the hefty Mandalorian soldier.
And for once, you felt tiny; puny compared to the heap of man and metal that walked by your side.
You didn’t know how tall he was without his armor, how broad his shoulders would be without the pauldrons that framed him, but the manner in which he walked—brooding and aloof, confident in every step despite the near constant gunfire aimed his way—made you feel as though the beskar only served to heighten his already looming stature.
It drove you insane.
The nagging voice in your head got louder every day; he could kill you with one hand, he could squash you where you stood—he’d probably fuck you out of your own mind.
And what were you to do about it? A glorified babysitter who kept ship and dressed wounds; who occasionally found a spot by the Mandalorian’s side in the cockpit, leaning against him without protest from his modulated voice.
You were a business measure. You were a way to ensure nothing went awry when Din was busy or away. Or worse.
But it didn’t stop you from spending sleepless nights in your cot with your hand in your pants, stuttering out his name when you pressed your fingers to the sweet spot you knew so well, curling up and imagining how the rhythm of his breathing would feel through his armor.
Now, as you made your way to the cockpit, you felt a chill run over you—the cold air of space sunk into the ship and settled in your bones.
You pushed down the urge to imagine the way Din’s unobstructed skin would feel against you, warming you, protecting you from the harm of the vacuum surrounding the ship.
“Kid’s asleep.” You stood at the entrance of the cockpit, not necessarily expecting a response.
You’d come to enjoy your one-sided conversations.
Din didn’t look up, but his head bobbed slightly in acknowledgement.
“I thought he’d never get to sleep…he was hungry, then he wasn’t, then he was toddling like he owned the place.” You sighed, “He was especially grabby tonight. For someone with three fingers, he’s got quite the grip. Should probably teach your son that noses aren’t for pulling on.”
“Not my son,” Din tilted his head, visor pointed over his shoulder as he responded to you, “Just…my kid.”
“Right…” In all the time you’d spent on the ship, you still hadn’t managed to figure out what connection the two had to each other. “Well, either way, I think he’s getting a little better at recognizing when he’s tired himself out—knowing what he wants.”
Din nodded again, just enough for you to recognize that the conversation was over. You turned to leave, cursing yourself for your inadvertent conversational faux pas.
At least you had your bedtime daydreams.
“And you?” Din spoke before you managed to exit.
“What about me?” You stood still, waiting for him to provide an explanation.
“Do you think you’re getting better at recognizing what you want, mesh’la?”
You remained unsure of what that word meant, or why he used it to address you—several times when he’d first taken you in, you’d corrected him, reminding him your name, and every time he’d just stared, nodded, and thanked you.
Din still didn’t look at you, and it was somewhat unnerving that he was so good at playing the part of a statue.
“I don’t…” You took a few steps forward, the gap between the two of you still seemingly endless, “I’m not sure what you mean…”
“Mmh,” was his only response.
But you stayed behind him, curiosity getting the best of you.
“Was there—what are you trying to say?” You pressed for clarity. His quiet intensity made you nervous.
There was a long pause. You momentarily wondered if he would even grace you with an answer. He did that sometimes, staring down at you through his visor as you mulled over something he’d said, refusing to muster a reply to your line of questioning and leaving you to figure it out yourself.
“You’ve done work on the walls.” Din leaned in his chair, pressing his body to the chair’s back and spreading his thighs as if to stretch them.
You swallowed, trying not to watch him move, though your stomach flipped a little when one of his gloved hands came to rest near his crotch.
“I’ve done work that you asked me to do…” You still weren’t sure where he was going with this—if he was going anywhere at all. “Wiring and welding…is there something else? Because it wouldn’t be a bother, ‘specially since the kid’s asleep.”
You were greeted with another long pause, only disturbed by the sharp breath Din let out that caught in the modulator.
It sounded almost as if he was laughing.
You shifted on your feet, uncertain and growing more tense by the minute. Was he unhappy with your work? Was he going to make you rip out what you’d done, start all over again—berate you for your shortcomings?
“You’ve noticed that they’re thin.” Din’s words made your anxious musings of being out of a job vanish, replacing them with entirely different anxieties.
You wondered if he could see you shaking like a leaf.
“I w—Din it’s not…” You couldn’t think of an excuse, and you were suddenly hit with the notion that perhaps he wasn’t even talking about that; maybe he was simply asking you to be quieter as you rummaged through cabinets and closed doors.
“I like the way you say my name.” He turned the chair around, facing you. You stared at him dumbly, his legs still spread in a shamefully alluring manner. “What do you think about?”
Your lips parted as you considered his question.
On one hand, there was still a chance to argue back, plead your innocence, feign ignorance; a chance for you to ignore him, to walk out of the cockpit and crawl into bed.
On the other hand, you didn’t want to walk away.
“You…” You mumbled, looking down at the floor. You fiddled with your hands in an effort to feel less awkward. “I think about you.”
“And?” He wasn’t going to let you omit details.
“I think about…about how much bigger and—and stronger than me you are.”
He stayed silent, and you searched for ways to fill the gap he would otherwise fill in the conversation.
“I think about how you make me feel so small when you stand next to me—sometimes when you give me instructions, you stand so close to me, crowd me against the wall, and I—I like…I like your shoulders.”
You cringed at your words. I like your shoulders? You wanted to kick yourself.
“And I think about how your hands would feel—always think about how big they are, how they’d, um, how you’d probably be able to grab me…play with me and use me so easily.”
Din let you stew in your words for a moment longer before speaking.
“Come.” He tilted his head back, a small gesture to bring you forward.
You obliged, forcing your legs to move, settling to stand between his knees.
“Sit, mesh’la. On your knees.” He watched you, and though you looked at him skeptically at first, you did what was asked of you.
When you’d gotten yourself comfortable, shifting on your knees between his legs, you looked up at him. His face was tilted down, watching you acquaint yourself with the position you’d taken on the floor.
“You are easy to play with.” He said it so robotically, a monotonous acknowledgement of the scene before him as you clung to his every word.
“I knew it,” you offered a sheepish smile, hoping that making light of the situation would help the tension dissipate.
Din reached out to hold your chin, tilting your head up to force your line of sight directly into his visor.
“What else do you think about?” The worn leather of his gloves felt smooth on your skin, and you let out a shaky breath of appreciation at the contact.
“Think about…” You reached up hesitantly, letting your palms rest on the armor plating his thighs. “How you’d feel. How heavy you’d be on my tongue and how—how deep you’d be…inside me…”
You heard him groan, an intensely human sound beneath his helmet, and it spurred you on, suddenly aware of the power you held and the mutual need that both of you were experiencing.
“I think about how thick you are—always imagine that my hands would be too small to fit around you properly. And how much effort it would take for you to fit.” You let your fingers spread over the cloth of his flight suit.
Din removed his hand from your chin, both of his palms coming to rest on top of your own hands. He gripped them loosely, pushing them back onto the armor on his thighs.
You felt a pang of disappointment until you realized that he was giving himself the space to undo the clasp of his suit to give you what you wanted.
He sat up a bit straighter, fumbling with the fastener before managing to undo it with a grunt. He paused, looking at you between his legs for a moment, and then he pulled his cock from its confines.
He was beautiful; long and thick, tan shaft holding up a red, rounded tip. Veins ran down the underside of his length, decorating him.
You tried not to let the feeling of shock show on your face, but he laughed lightly, validated by your obvious astonishment.
“Is it what you thought it would be?” Din’s voice was low as he began stroking himself with a gloved hand.
You whimpered, unable to contain the startled glee in your voice. “Din—”
“Yes,” he cut you off, sighing, “Please.”
You let out a hum, bringing your hands up to his cock, met with the thrilling revelation that your fantasies had been grounded in reality—your hands were insufficient in engulfing his length, fingers struggling to close around him, several inches of him remaining untouched.
You leaned forward, hesitantly sticking your tongue out and swirling it around his tip.
Din’s head fell back as he cursed, fingers flying to grip at your hair and follow you as you began to bob your head up and down over what you could fit into your mouth without choking.
“You’re—you’re warm…” He grunted out, gathering strands of your hair into a makeshift handle. “Did you think about this, mesh’la? Did you think about having me in your mouth like this?”
Your response was muted by his cock, but the happy sound that bubbled from your chest let him know everything he needed to.
You let the spit that dripped over him coat your palms, using it as a lubricant to slide your hands over his cock while your continued to force more of him down your throat.
Din hissed at the feeling, the way your wrists jerked in sync with the movement of your tongue over him, and he tightened his grip on your hair.
He let you continue for a while, before deciding to pull you off. You rested your head on his thigh, one hand still trailing the veins of his cock while you tried to catch your breath, drooling.
“Look at me,” he urged, tugging at your hair to tilt your face up. Your lips were puffy, chin coated in your drool, and there were tears glazing your eyes. He stared, content with how easy it was to get you cockdrunk. “Perfect.”
“I wasn’t done…” You whimpered an argument, pouting.
“Yes, you were.” Din coaxed you up from the floor, hands on your arms lifting you to stand.
He let his arms drop, looking at you, how wrecked you were while still fully clothed before him, and his fingers moved to toy with the buttons of your trousers.
“Alright?” He froze, awaiting a sign that what he was doing was ok, that you were willing to let him continue.
“Din, if you don’t take them off, I will.” You let yourself drag a hand down the side of his helmet, and though you felt cold metal in place of skin and hair, you still felt as though the gesture was intimate, fitting for this scenario.
Din had heard what he’d needed to hear, finally undoing the buttons and letting your pants pool around your ankles. You stepped out of them awkwardly, playing with the hem of your shirt and looking at him expectantly.
He nodded, a more obvious signal this time, and you shed the shirt from your body, too, leaving you fully exposed. You began to lean forward into him, but he placed a hand on your shoulder, pushing you away.
“Turn around.”
You spun, turning your back to him. Without warning, you felt leather-clad fingers squeezing your skin, roaming your hips before gripping harshly at your ass.
“Now sit.” He put both hands on your hips and tugged you back to him, letting you adjust as you fell into his lap. He helped you spread your legs, hooking your knees over him and opening you to the cold air of the ship.
“Bite.” Din pressed a finger to your lips, “I want to feel you.”
You whimpered, carefully biting down on the tip of the glove and letting him pull his hand out. He grabbed the fabric that hung from your mouth and tossed it to the side.
“Good.” His newly ungloved hand roamed your body, groping your tits and squeezing roughly at any untouched skin he could find. His other hand gripped your hip, keeping you steady.
You whined, trying to grind down against him. The pulse of his cock, still hard and coated with your spit, pressed into your back, and it made you impatient and dizzy.
“Stay still.” Another command that had you whining, but you acquiesced.
Din’s bare hand wrapped around your thigh, pulling it further to give him ample room to touch you where you needed him. He pressed one finger to your clit, and though the touch was somewhat soft, you bucked your hips into the feeling.
“Such a little thing,” he mused, “It’s so easy for me to keep you where I want you.”
That made you moan: his acknowledgement of your size difference and the way he used it to his advantage. You squirmed in an effort to get him to give you more of what you wanted.
Din’s finger dropped lower, teasing your slit and hovering over your hole. He dipped the tip of his finger into you, growling at the slick feeling that coated him.
“All this from nothing.” He thought aloud before plunging the finger into your cunt, curling it to jab into your most tender spot.
“Oh m—Din!” You hadn’t expected the intrusion, but you welcomed it all the same. You writhed on his finger, much thicker than your own and filling you in a much more satisfactory way. “More—another, please.”
“You can handle more?” You thought you heard him smiling.
“Even if I can’t, you can make me,” you whimpered, “I want more.”
Your response earned a rumble from Din, a low growl that vibrated through his chest. He pressed another finger into you, leaning over your shoulder to watch your cunt swallow the digits and coat them with your juices.
“Look,” he grunted, “Look how much you struggle with two fingers. How are you going to take my cock?”
And you were struggling, but it was wonderful; his fingers pressed against your walls, stretching you out in preparation for what was to come, and you brought your own hand to your clit to rub circles over yourself.
But Din grabbed your wrist, leather digging against you as he tugged your hand away from your core.
“Mine.” His voice was animalistic, so lost in the way you squeezed his fingers and the way you listened to his demands. He tossed your own hand to the side, replacing it with gloved fingers that pressed rhythmically into you in time with the fingers he had working you open. “Had plenty of time to touch. Thought you wanted the real thing.”
“I do—Din, I do, I do,” you were pleading, begging for his help in getting you to your high. “Please, I do.”
“Cum.” It was all he said, pressing his fingers roughly against your clit and curling those he had inside you to tease your orgasm from your delicate spot.
And you did; with a loud yelp and a chant of his name, you were coming undone on his hands.
You rocked against his cock where it nestled against your ass, whimpering as you let your head fall back against his shoulder.
“Good, mesh’la.” He stroked your hair.
He pulled his fingers from you slowly, and you shuddered, hit with the feeling of emptiness as your body clenched around nothing. He brought his fingers to your lips, and you welcomed them into your mouth, sucking on them and gathering the remnants of your slick on your tongue.
“Din,” you gathered yourself together, releasing his fingers and breathing deeply. You pressed your back to his chest. “More.”
“You’re being greedy.” He couldn’t hide his delight at your eagerness, the modulator picking up on the amused breaths he let out. “Stand up. Face me.”
On shaky legs, you obeyed.
You felt your thighs, gluey against the air, stick together as you moved, evidence of your pleasure that lingered on your skin.
When you turned to face him, went wide-eyed with fascination. His ungloved hand had wrapped around his cock, slowly stroking himself as he watched you.
“On my lap.” His free hand patted his thigh, and you approached enthusiastically.
You maneuvered yourself on top of him, straddling him and letting your knees press into the crevices between the armrests of the chair and his body. He placed a hand on your hip, rubbing his thumb over your skin, trying to feel you through the leather of his glove.
You settled against him, feeling the movement of his arm as he continued to jerk himself off. The tip of his cock brushed against your clit, and you mewled, rolling your hips against him.
“What do you want?” He urged you to speak, his fingers digging into your side.
“You—want your cock, Din.” You were shameless, desperate to feel him split you in half.
“And if it doesn’t fit?” He slapped his cock against you, making you whimper above him. You shifted your hips to savor the feeling of his skin on yours.
“You’ll make it fit.” You found the confidence to look into the visor, certain that you were gazing into his eyes behind the shield.
He groaned, pulling you closer to him as he lined himself up with your entrance.
“I will.” He reassured you, beginning to push into you.
You moaned at the stretch, the pressure of his body against yours as your cunt swallowed the head of his cock. You clawed at the armor on his chest, and he let out a throaty sound.
“So tight,” he seemed almost as breathless as you felt, “Taking me so well.”
“Feels—it feels so good,” you whispered, bouncing on the tip of his cock, “Give it to me, please. All of it.”
With a growl, Din removed his hand from the base of his cock, gripping your hips, manhandling you to contort your body the way he wanted you.
He pushed you down onto him, thrusting his hips upward until he was buried to the hilt in your cunt.
You screamed, head falling into the crook of his neck and writhing as your body accepted the invasion of his length. Despite the suddenness and the extent to which you had been filled, you craved more, dragging your hips against him and trying to see just how deep he could get.
Din cursed, rasping and desirous. “Look at you taking all that cock,” he was transfixed, obsessed with how your cunt gripped him. “You think a lot about having me force it in, little one? Forcing you to take it how I wanted? Ruining you?”
“Y—es,” you sobbed into him, “Wanted you to—wanted you to break me open.” You were choking back moans, arms wrapped around his neck.
He had engulfed you completely, dwarfing you and turning you into nothing but a toy—a doll at his disposal that he used with no regard.
And you loved it. You loved the texture of his veins running down your walls, the filthy wet sounds that he pulled from your cunt with every deep thrust, the way his balls bounced heavy against your ass when he forced you down onto him.
He brought a hand to the nape of your neck, pulling you back and encouraging you to look down at where your bodies connected. He released you, opting to grab your hand and press it into your stomach.
“You know what that is?” There was a smugness to his tone, one that made you feel lightheaded, “That’s my cock.”
You moaned, but he wasn’t done speaking.
“That’s my cock wrecking you—breaking you how you wanted. Not your fingers, mesh’la. Do you hear the pretty sounds you’re making for me? I never heard you scream like that when you were trying to fuck yourself.”
Your jaw went slack, legs aching and hot with the effort you had to put into keeping up with his pace.
“S—o much—so much better,” you choked out, “You feel so much better than my hands, Din.”
“I know I do. Tell me,” he kept your palm pressed against your stomach, watching as you bulged with him every time his cock punched into you. “Tell me how it feels.”
“Din—oh!” You were so far gone, so focused on the pleasure of having him so close, so deep. You managed to breathe a one-word response. “Big…”
“Big,” he laughed, “That’s right.”
His thrusts became slower, his cockhead nudging your g-spot at a delicious pace that made you give up your attempts at keeping up with him.
You fell against his body, happy to let him do the work while you succumbed to his movements.
“Tight little pussy—only cock you need,” he was speaking rhetorically, not posing it as a question or statement for you, per se, but a general agreement spoken into the cockpit that he was certain you would find truth in. “Only cock that’ll ever fit again.”
You felt drool puddle from the corner of your lips, having gone so completely dumb for him.
There was a fire spreading throughout your body, heat licking at your core as it threatened a deluge of bliss.
“Only you, Din,” you mumbled against him, “Please, only you.”
He had resorted to dragging you over him, pulling and pushing your hips over his length and watching his cock split you open. The action ensured that your clit pushed against him, giving you the friction you’d need to reach another high when paired with the stretch of his cock.
“Cum,” his voice had dropped just above a whisper, “Let me feel you squeeze me tight, mesh’la.” He squeezed your hips hard, bucking into you.
You came with a delighted squeal, gripping his shoulders and grinding yourself down into him. He hugged you to his body, further enveloping you, and you felt safe and fulfilled.
His thrusts quickly became more erratic, searching for release. You felt him stiffen against you, not out of discomfort but due to the imminent high he faced.
“Din…Implant,” you whispered, hoping he could hear your voice over the panted breaths you took. “Please. Inside.”
Your words were all it took, and his hips stuttered into you. He moaned, head falling back against the chair and arms hauling you even closer to his body.
You felt the warmth of his spend in your abdomen, painting your walls and filling you with him. You moaned softly, squirming on his lap in a display of contentment.
He brought a hand up to feather through your hair, letting you rest against him as you both settled.
“How do you feel?” He asked, after the silence had become too much even for him.
“So good,” you nuzzled against his pauldron, “You made me feel so good, Din.”
He turned to look down at you. “As good as you thought it would feel?”  
“So much better.”
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fettuccin-e · 1 year ago
Text
A Kind of Demon
Kinktober Day 3: Monster AU
Tags: Din Djarin x Reader, Incubus!Din Djarin, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv, Din has a demon dick lol, force sex? yeah pretty much, fingering, overstimulation, making up my own demon lore as I go (w/c: 1.7K)
A/N: SO I have never, ever written something like this so this was way way out of my comfort zone, but I wanted to try it out! I really like incubus!Din, so I might come back to him again, who knows. Din does have like "force powers" in this, but since it's not the Star Wars universe, it's just like demon magic lol. (I am using prompts from this list by flightlessangelwings!)
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You should be terrified of the power he has over you. 
You’d hadn’t meant to summon someone like him, something other. He looks vaguely human, or is just human-shaped, but he’s covered in a dark, metallic armor that makes him seem more mythical than man. And the power he exudes cannot be explained as anything other than supernatural. 
He calls himself a Mandalorian, a word that seems made up, not of this world. It’s a type of demon, he tells you, his sentences controlled and short, the type that you’d summoned. A kind of incubus.
“I didn’t summon a fucking demon!” you yell, throwing object after object at him, anything you can find. They bounce off of his dark armor, and he stands stock still, unfeeling and utterly monstrous. He says your name in a way that has your knees buckling on the spot, from fear, of course. 
“I have been summoned to you, whether intentional, or unintentional. Your unconscious needs have brought me to you, and I cannot leave until my duty has been fulfilled.” His voice is clear and deep through the metal helmet shielding his face, and try as you might to peer into the dark visor, all you can see is nothingness.
“What does an incubus even do?” you shout, throwing your hands into the air. He chuckles in a truly demonic way, terrifying and somehow endlessly charming.
“Are you lonely, little one?” he said, stepping forward and looming over you like a fucking predator. You don’t answer, staring straight ahead into his armored chest, lips pursed. Why the fuck would he have to know that? Your, frankly terrible, sex life is none of his business.
His gloved hand reaches forward to nudge your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, even though you can’t see his eyes.
“All of these needs, trapped in your pretty little head, I can feel them. I can see them. Fantasizing in the dark night after night with your fingers in your pussy, desperate for someone to take care of you. I can see everything you want, and I can do it for you. I can take care of you, little one.” You swallow, harsh and painful, like sandpaper down your throat.
Your pussy soaks through your panties as he murmurs darkly into your ear. “You only need to say yes, girl, and I will make you feel so, so good.”
Your head swims, your knees weak and your body aching as you whisper a yes.
God, you should be terrified. Terrified of the way he takes control so easily. How, with only a touch, he makes your clothes vanish like nothing, leaving you bare to his invisible eyes. You should be scared for your life at the way you can feel his power all around you, touching every inch of your shaking body, pressing you backward to lay on your bed. Instead, your pussy leaks between your quaking thighs. A force, his force, you realize, invisible and yet so solid it might as well be his hands, strokes across your body, against your throbbing clit. A choked moan rips its way out of your throat. 
“That’s right girl, let me take care of you,” he murmurs, looming over you as he steps forward to kneel on the bed. “I can take any form you want, just tell me. Is there someone you desire?”
Oh. You’d hadn’t realized it was an option, for him to take the shape of someone else. He could be anything, you realized, a crush, a celebrity, even yourself. The realization makes you stock still, wracking your brain for someone, anyone. But looking up at him, with his dark visor and broad chest, God, you don’t want him to be anyone else. Just the sheer sight of him has you desperate enough.
“No,” you breathe, a little too eagerly. “No, this- this is fine.”
He pauses. All of him, his chest, his mouth, the force he has enveloping you. You both stare at each other, stock still and silent. And then, he moves. 
He’s got you turned over on your sheets in seconds, your face pressed into the mattress as he hikes your hips up. You clutch desperately at the sheets as he sinks two thick fingers into you, gloriously human but somehow not human at all. There’s no way he could be human when he finds that spot so deep inside, the spot that you can barely reach half the time, immediately.
“Holy- holy fucking shit, oh fuck,” you choke on your moans as he grinds the pads of his fingers into you, sending lightning ricocheting up your spine. Your hips twitch back into his hand without your permission, desperate for the kind of touch you haven’t experienced in so long.
“That’s it, girl, take what you need from me,” he growls, fucking his fingers into you at a pace that is truly obscene. His force surrounds you, a warmth that cannot be explained in earthly terms. It ghosts across your nipples, surrounding them and pulling on them in a way that brings tears to your eyes. It moves down and presses hard on your clit, flicking across it in a way that feels like a fucking tongue. You can’t hold back the way you scream.
He sinks another finger into you, stretching you out more than you have been in months, years. Maybe I have needed this, you think. Maybe I did summon him.
He leans over you, close enough that he is able to murmur directly into your ear, “Think you can take my cock, little one?”
The whine you let out is downright embarrassing. “Please.”
You glance behind yourself, to where the Mandalorian has his thick fingers buried deep in your cunt, to where he’s pulling out his cock with the other hand. That, for the first time, is distinctly inhuman. His cock is huge, so big that you have a brief thought about it splitting you in two, right down the middle. Rigid bumps run down his length, and the tip is thick, leaking, and oh shit, you want him in your mouth, you want him in your pussy, you want him fucking everywhere. 
“Fuck me,” you whine, and the demon chuckles. 
“Do you really think you can take me, girl?” He growls.
“I wanna try, oh please, please, I need it, ah-” he cuts off your whining by ripping his fingers out of you, leaving you empty and gaping. It doesn’t last very long before he notches the head of his cock against your entrance and pushes.
The stretch seems fucking endless. You can only clutch the pillows and sob as he breaks you apart on his thick cock, reaching so deep you swear you can feel him in your fucking lungs. It should hurt, God it should hurt, but his force only makes you relax as he pulls you back onto him. You feel dizzy with it, the way that force keeps licking maddeningly at your clit, pulling at your nipples while the biggest cock you’ve ever had settles deep inside.
You cum. Just from the way he sinks into you, fills you like you’ve always been empty, and you’ve only been missing him all your life. You writhe against the sheets, clutching at your pillow as you convulse around his cock. It’s debilitating, destructive, and all you can think of is how much you need more.
“It’s- oh fuck, it’s- I can’t,” you sob over your words, tears leaking down your cheeks, but you can’t help but press back into his body, trying to get him as deep as possible.
The demon snarls, using a thick hand to reach forward and grab your wrists together, pinning them to the small of your back. He pulls his hips back, slowly, so slow that you can feel every bump drag endlessly over your walls, before he drives back into you so hard the breath is knocked out of your lungs, the tip grinding deep into that spot he’s able to find so easily.
Then, the Mandalorian fucks you. No, fucking is too gentle. There is no earthly term to describe how he destroys you in a way that is so pure, so primal. He holds onto your wrists and drags you back onto his cock with every thrust, keeping you at his mercy while you can only moan and cry as he rips you apart into a million little pieces. You feel like a bitch in heat, getting fucked like that is all you’re meant to do. The demon uses you like a fucking toy, his force sucking at your abused little clit endlessly.
You can hear little grunts escaping his mouth with every thrust, tiny uh, uh, uhs that have your head spinning. You’re pretty sure you’re drooling, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when this man, this demon, is fucking you within an inch of your life, ruining you for anyone, anything else.
Your pussy makes obscene noises around him, echoing throughout the room as your headboard smacks hard against the wall. You can barely even make a noise anymore, overwhelmed sobs forcing their way out of your throat every time he reaches deep, deep into your body. 
“I can feel you clenching for me. Are you going to cum for me again?” He growls. “Go on then, little girl, make a mess of yourself.”
Your mouth opens in a silent scream as you squeeze tight around his cock, your body trembling in his hold. He fucks you through it, prolonging it, and it’s too much, it’s too fucking much. Your vision blurs, your head light and fuzzy, and you can only gasp wetly as the world blinks into darkness.
As your eyes blink open again, you’re warm. Your sheets feel clean, smelling of lavender and chamomile, and your room is blissfully, astonishingly quiet. You sit up in bed, a twinge going through your arms, and you nearly scream as you look across the room to see the Mandalorian standing still in your doorway, unmoving.
“Are you alright, girl?” he says, like he hadn’t just ripped you apart in every way that matters.
“Uh,” you cross your arms over yourself, feeling strangely vulnerable. “Yeah, I’m alright.”
He nods, once. “Good. My duties have been fulfilled.” He doesn’t let you get a word in.
You blink, and the Mandalorian is gone.
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ddejavvu · 6 months ago
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Mandalorian and Jedi!Reader, maybe where Mando tries to bring reader in for a bounty some ex imperial put on her head and he ends up having a MASSIVE crush on her instead
Soft Din has my heart 🫶🏻
"Can you stop that?" Din throws a scathing look over his shoulder where you're occupying Grogu in a rear seat of the unmarked freighter he's piloting. This job wasn't an easy one; Jedi aren't often willing to be tracked, but now that he's got you, he needs to deliver you without arousing any suspicion, which a shiny new ship is not useful for So, despite the smell of livestock that lingers in the walls of the ship, you're all piled into its boring, beige cockpit.
"What, making him laugh?" You scoff at Din, fingers still carefully poking and prodding at the baby's sides where he squeals with laughter, "It's called happiness, Mando. You should try it sometime."
"He's little," Din reaches out to scoop Grogu into his grip, tugging him away from you, "You're gonna hurt him. You're supposed to be a bounty, not the entertainment."
"Have you forgotten he and I were raised in the same temple?" You reach for Grogu who's staring pleadingly at you over Din's shoulder, one of his little hands outstretched, "I used to feed him mashed meilooruns."
"And now you occupy your time by liberating imperial cruisers of their fuel."
"Can't chase me if the tank is empty." You shrug, "Hey, Grogu, honey, watch this!"
You use the Force to snag Din's blaster out of its holster, and when he grabs for it, you use your other hand to lift Grogu over his shoulder and back into your lap.
"See? Stealing is easy and fun," You grin at the expressionless beskar mask staring your way, and Grogu giggles in delight where he's back in your lap.
"Stealing gets a bounty placed on your head. I'll be sure to buy some mashed meilooruns for the kid with the credits you'll get me."
"Right," You scoff, "You're gonna show up to meet this imperial goon squad, you're gonna hand me over, and they're just gonna let you waltz out of there fifty-thousand credits richer despite having a force-sensitive child in your possession?"
Din's leather glove creaks as he tightens his hold on the controls.
"Face it, buckethead, the only way you're getting those credits is if I help you. We'll fake 'em out, you keep my saber and toss it to me after they pay you. Then I'll chop 'em up and we can get outta there before they get their hands on Grogu."
Prolonged silence seems to be all that Din can offer in your presence aside from stinging quips, but he hears Grogu's babbling giggle break the tension where you've tapped a finger at his button nose. The sound eases some of the weary tension that's been on Din's shoulders since the second he'd made a deal with Imperials, and he's glad he has his helmet on to prevent you from seeing the way that the annoyance in his face softens.
"Fine. But there's no way you're coming with us afterwards. I'm dumping you on the first stable planet we come across, and you're not getting any of the credits."
"Poor Mando," You croon to Grogu, "Ahsoka didn't teach him about projecting his feelings, did she?"
Grogu rambles back to you in some unknown attempt at language, and before Din can ask what 'projecting' means, you're grinning up at him.
"You've got a deal, Mando; no money, no free rides around the galaxy. Just keep getting soft under that bucket of yours, and we'll figure out a better plan on the way out."
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whocaresstillthelouvre · 6 months ago
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Fifteen Minutes
Din Djarin x Cam Girl Reader AU
Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Being a cam girl isn't as exciting as people think it is, that is until a mystery of a deep voiced man asks you what makes a woman feel good. Warnings: Smut, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, sex work, Din reveals his face, silver dildo, Din's a virgin, premature ejaculation. Banner has nothing to do with appearance of reader, reader has no physical descriptors besides being AFAB. Words: 4,360 Author Note: Happy May the 4th, tell me why I spent all tonight writing this?
Fifteen Weeks, the follow up.
Masterlist
— —
THEWAY would like to chat. Accept?
$150 for fifteen minutes of staring at someone’s dick, of course you’re going to take it. Usually these calls consist of you rubbing your body and complimenting men you’d never even speak to while you try to recall if you remembered to order caesar dressing with your dinner. You look around your room, you have nothing else to do, your delivery won’t be here for another twenty minutes… you hit accept. 
“Hi babe, how are you tonight?” You smile into the camera, the smile your customers love, sultry bedroom eyes and a small grin. 
“…Good,” he breathes out.
Oh, his voice. You only see a black shirt… nothing else, but that voice is enough for you. 
“Tell me, have you done this before?”
“…No. My first time.”
“Alright, so you have fifteen minutes with me, once the timer is up we’re done and I disconnect. You’re allowed to touch yourself and I will watch you, I will do what you tell me to do within my own comfort, if I choose to end the call because I don’t feel right, then you will be billed the whole amount. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” 
“Okay, great. Just so I know what you want before we start what are you interested in tonight?”  
“I’d like to watch you and learn.”
“Learn?”
“Yes, learn, I-I,” he sighs, “I’ve never been with anybody before.”
“Oh.” With that voice? You don’t know what he looks like, but his voice has already turned you on so much you can’t imagine somebody who sounds like that is a virgin. You turn the volume all the way up. “So, you want me to show you what girls like?”
“What a girl like you likes, yes.”
“I can do that for you. I’m going to start the timer now.” 
You know this feeling, the click of the mouse on the green BEGIN button, the lean back to get your body in the whole frame, the spreading of your legs to show your viewer what they really want to see. 
“What do you want me to show baby?” You ask as you run your hand along your neck and down to your breasts.
“Show me what you like when someone has you.”
How are you so turned on by his voice? The way it flows through your speakers, the deep baritone of his serious voice, it does something to you… and it’s just a voice.
“I like when a guy plays with my nipples,” your hands cup your breasts, pulling and massaging them into peaks. “I like when they lick them,” you dribble spit down to your chest, swiping your fingers through it and spreading it across your chest. 
His long exhale massages your body through those damn tinny speakers. Usually by now your  screen is full of your client’s dick, you’ve become very good at staring at the camera, ignoring the tugging and actions on the screen in your peripheral vision. This time, that voice makes you wish you could see him. 
“I like when they drag their hands all over my body,” your hand travels down your stomach to your thighs and back up. 
“I like when they tell me they want to touch my body. Do you want to touch my body?”
“Y-yes.”
“What do you want to touch?”
“E-everywhere, you look like you’re so soft. I want to touch your legs, they look so smooth.”
“I’d like that,” you smile at the camera, “do you want me to touch my pussy for you?” 
“Uh huh.” 
You lay back, spreading your legs wide, dipping your hand down to pet yourself. You’re not surprised to find that you’re already wet, the mysterious man’s deep voice mixed with the desolate black screen and the sight of his black shirt moving as he breathes is enough for you.
You wonder how old he is, what he looks like, why he chose your room, why he’s obviously not touching himself. He’s a mystery you want to figure out. You welcome the luxury of not having to pretend you like what you see. You like knowing that this total stranger is sitting in a dark room only focusing on you.
You rub a finger against your clit, your hips rising at the feel of the pressure against your sensitive nub.
“I like when they can feel how wet they make me.” You glue your eyes to the camera letting out a moan while your finger teases your clit. “I like when they dip a finger in my cunt and bring my juices up to my clit. Feels really good as they rub me with my wet.”
Your finger dips down to your entrance, sliding it into yourself. “Ohh baby, I am so wet for you,” you moan as you begin to fuck yourself. 
Your other hand begins its descent down your body until it reaches your pussy. It works over your clit as you fuck yourself slowly, your cunt already clenching around your singular finger. 
You’re so turned on right now, the excitement of this black screen, the knowledge that he picked your picture and trusts you to show him what makes you feel good. 
“You’re pretty quiet over there, you good?”
“Y-yes. I like watching you.”
“Why’d you choose me?” you slip another finger in with a moan. “Couldn’t you just have watched a video?”
“I wanted to see it for real. Is it for real?”
“With you, yes.”
You don’t know what it is about his voice. Why are you getting off on the mystery? 
“Are you touching yourself?” You never have to, nor want to, ask, but you want to know this time. 
“No,” he sighs, “I want to focus, I don’t want any distractions.”
“Okay, that’s okay baby,” you give him an understanding smile as you begin canting your hips up to pump yourself harder. 
Five minute warning. The red box pops up on the screen. You’re too focused on your bliss to close the warning. You’re always so good at turning off the video vixen and going right into businesswoman mode but tonight, you just want to make this stranger feel satisfied. 
“I really like it when my pussy is stuffed with a cock, I love feeling the stretch and I love when my hole is stuffed so full.”
You hear his deep groan. You can’t hide the smile on your face.
“Ohhh, you liked that didn’t you? How would you take me if you were here with me? Let me know baby, tell me.”
“I-I’d want to fuck you as I looked in your eyes, you have beautiful eyes and lips, I want to kiss you while I fuck you.”
“Oh,” a chill blooms through your body at how gentle his words are. Most men are crass and too forthcoming with their fantasies, never soft, most of their answers just turn into white noise. His answer is going to stay with you. “I like when a guy wants me to cum all over their cock, I love the feeling of my cunt pumping around a hard cock as I orgasm. I’m close, do you want me to cum for you?”
“Please, yes.”
His voice, you can’t stress this enough, his voice is so fucking hot. Your body begins to feel feverish as the loud squelch of your fingers working your cunt faster and harder gets louder. You hardly ever cum during these sessions, especially when you use just your hands, needless to say, you’re really good at pretending. 
You love your job, you really do, it allows so much freedom and pays well, but some nights are so monotonous and boring. Tonight seemed like one of those nights, until you accepted this call. Tonight you’re going to cum.
Your orgasm hits you hard, back arching, limbs tightening, eyes fluttering as a rush of slick soaks your fingers. You pant for air as you come down, slipping your fingers out and resting a hand on your chest. 
The countdown begins in the corner of your screen 60, 59, 58…
“Time’s about up,” you whisper as you sit up, “I hope I helped you.”
“Y-you did. Thank you.” 
“You’re welcome,” you smile. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t.” 
He disconnects.
Your account shows $250 extra. He’s an excellent tipper and you actually came for him. You really love your job tonight. 
——
THEWAY would like to chat. Accept?
The way, the way, the way. You’ve thought about him for the past week, wondering if he joined any other room, if he chose someone else over you. All you know about him is he owns a black shirt and has never been with anybody… and yet you’ve thought about him every single day since. Have you crossed his mind? You sure hope so because he picked you again tonight. Your heart beats faster as you try to hide the smile when you hit the accept button. 
“Hi again,” you grin. 
This time there’s a light on behind him, you can just make out the broadness of his shoulders, really fucking broad, he’s in a black shirt again, but thanks to the light you can see he has golden skin.
“Hi, it’s nice to see you," he shyly says.
Goodness you’re so thankful for that light, you can see the way his chest moves when he talks. There’s tiny peek of his toned neck at the top of the screen, you pray he dips lower exposing his face. His voice is just how you remembered it, low and bassy, you’re already getting wet at the anticipation of hearing more.
“I can see a little more of you now,” you wink, “I like it.”
“Heh,” he chuckles, it's the first time you’ve heard him laugh. His hand comes into frame and scratches his chest. It’s beautiful and large, his fingers are thick, you wonder what they’d feel like against your skin.
“I have to give you the same spiel even though you’re a repeat. Once again, you have fifteen minutes with me once it’s up, I disconnect. Please feel free to touch yourself for me and I’ll do what you want as long as I am okay with it. I’ll hang up if I don’t feel comfortable. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“Wonderful. Are you going to touch yourself for me tonight?”
“Uh, n-no, not yet.”
“That’s okay, I’m happy to do the work for you. You want me to use my hands, or do you want me to use a toy?”
“Do you have anything shaped like a-a—uh, a—“
“A dick?”
“Yeah.”
“I do. You want to watch me fuck myself with a cock?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I’ll grab my favorite one just for you.”
You roll over and pick up your “briefcase” of sex toys, grabbing your favorite, the silver toned dildo. It’s thick, it vibrates, and it fits your cunt just right. 
“Is this what you want to watch me fuck myself with?”
“Ye—“ he clears his throat. “God, yes.”
You giggle. “Okay, I’m starting the timer now.” 
You tap the button. Fifteen minutes of him.  
“What do you want from me baby? You want to see how this cock looks in my mouth?”
“Yes,” he strangles out.
“You want me to pretend it’s your cock?”
“Fuck, yes.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“L-lick it.”
You smile, leaning closer to the camera as you bring the dildo up to your lips, sticking your tongue out and swirling it around the tip, your eyes focused on the screen, not the camera… the screen. You want another glimpse of his skin. 
“Mm, wish I could taste you. You think you’re leaking for me right now baby?”
You lick a line down to the base and back up. 
“I bet you’re so warm and soft there,” you whisper against the tip before opening your mouth and sucking it. You hollow your cheeks as you take the dildo in deeper, eyes widening and tearing as it hits the back of your throat. 
“Fuuuuck,” he leans back farther in his chair his chin comes into sight, well trimmed facial hair, strong chin, you know he has to be beautiful. 
You can’t stop looking at him, you don’t even know his name, where he lives, what he does, why in the hell he’s still a virgin. 
Drool escapes your lips as you fuck your mouth moaning around the silver latex. 
Most of the time this job isn’t the greatest, you usually find yourself going through the motions, moving on to the next client, the next responsibility. Sure, sometimes you really connect with a watcher, sometimes you look forward to the name appearing knowing you’ll actually really enjoy the session, but most of the time, you deal and move on. It’s business. Sure as hell beats sitting in a cubicle. With this stranger, this puzzle you’re slowly figuring out? You love your job. 
“Want to see my pussy take this cock now baby?”
“Please.”
You nod, leaning back and spreading your legs open. 
“Do you feel safe telling me your name? I want to say your name as I get fucked by your cock.” 
“Ye—fuck yes. It’s Din.”
“Diiiiiiin,” you moan, as you begin to pump the silver cock in and out of you. It moves smoothly, you’re soaking wet for him, only due to his voice and whatever sights the light of the lamp wants to bless you with. 
Din. Three letters. Simple. Direct. Unique. Strong. 
“Oh Din, you feel so good in me baby, like how I take your cock? Tell me baby, talk to me, I want to hear you.”
“Yes. God, you’re so beautiful.”
“You’re so big, you’re stinging me so good. You like how my pussy looks stretched around you?”
“Yes, I-I do.”
“I feel desperate, so desperate for you. I love how you feel inside me. What are you looking at baby? Can’t see your eyes, what are you watching me do right now? Where are you focused?”
“On your face. I like watching the way you bite your lip as you f-fuck yourself.” 
God, he still sound so nervous. So new. He can’t be too young, not with that body.
“What color eyes do you have, Din?”
“Brown, b-brown eyes.”
“Mm, I like brown eyes, I bet you’re real handsome all brown eyed and tan skin. Now, have those brown eyes watch my pussy baby, watch how I take you. You can look at my face as I cum for you, Din. Right now I want you to look at my cunt. Are you hard for me Din? Are you as hard as the cock I’m fucking myself with?’
“Yes.”
The five minute warning box shows up again, this time it’s your nemesis that you ignore.
“Do you imagine a pussy as wet as mine when you get yourself off?” 
“Y-yes.”
“Did you make yourself cum after our last session?”
“Yes,” he chokes out, “right after, I-I jerked off.”
“Did you think about me?” Your voice coming out with more curiosity than you’d like. 
“I did, and every time since.”
Your body shivers from his words, “That’s a good boy Din, I like that,” you smile as your hips raise off the bed to meet your quickening thrusts fucking yourself harder.
He groans, long and low.
“I’m going to cum for you, Din,” you pant. ”I’m going to cum on your cock and then I’m going to lick myself up off of you, okay?”
“Fuck, yes.” 
You chant Din’s name as you pound your pussy, tingles shooting through you as you orgasm. You haven’t cum like this on camera in a long time. It’s devastating that not every one of your clients can be Din. 
You stretch your limbs out as you come down from your climax.
“God damn,” you giggle, “that was really fucking good.”
You slowly take the dildo out and bring it to your lips, raising your eyebrow at him and resting the tip against your lips.
“Yes, please, yes,” he growls.
You lick yourself off the silver latex, sucking your juices from the top, smiling as your mouth forms around it. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck,” Din’s voice edges you on.
“Mmm, Din, I taste so good, look how fucking shiny I made your dick.”
“Goooooood, fuck,” he pants, “you’re so pretty, fuck. Fuck, I-I-I I’m going to cum.”
The one minute countdown shows up at the worst time. You quickly lean forward and hit IGNORE, DO NOT CHARGE EXTRA.
“Cum for me Din, cum for me,” you try to disguise your prideful smile behind the silver dildo. 
The groans he lets out as he cums, the way his neck stretches as he angles his head up… it’s all you get, but it’s enough to keep you thinking about him at any chance you get. 
Sometimes a self esteem boost can be as simple as somebody complimenting your shoes or an attractive person giving you a friendly nod… this boost isn’t nearly as simple. Din just came in his pants just for you, without even touching himself.
“I’ve never done that, sorry,” his voice dripping with shame.
“No, Din, baby, no. I really liked it. A lot. I’m glad I could make you feel that way. Really.”
“You’re really… sweet, you know that?”
“I suppose I can be. Depends on the person,” you wink.
“I—uh, think I’m over my time.”
“You are, but I’m not going to charge you for it.”
“Thank you.” 
“Of course. Don’t be a stranger, Din.”
“I won’t.”
He disconnects. You lay back on your bed and grin at your ceiling. 
——
THEWAY would like to chat. Accept?
“Din,” you smile as the familiar black shirt appears on your screen. Thank god, the lamp is on. “It’s only been three days.”
“I know, I-I wanted to see you.”
“That’s good, I wanted to see you too.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you these past few days,” he pauses, “I’m sorry, i-is that okay?”
“Oh, of course it is. I’ve thought about you too baby.”
“You say that for everyone?”
“I do, but this time I mean it. Now, you know I have to give you the same base instructions. Fifteen minutes and then I disconnect. You can touch yourself, I’ll do what you want as long as I am okay with it. I’ll hang up if I don’t feel right. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“Good, so what do you want tonight?”
“Yeah, I, uh, want to um—will you watch me tonight?”
“Of course baby, I’d be happy to.”
“Okay, yeah, thanks.”
You shake your head and laugh. “No need to thank me, I’m always happy to help you. I was really happy to see your name. So you want me to watch you tonight? Do you want me to do anything else for you?”
“Just, touch yourself and talk to me like you do. I-I’ve never done something like this, nobody has ev—nobody’s seen me like this before.”
He sounds so fragile, you want to take care of him.
“You want me to use a toy or my hand?”
“Just your hand.” 
“Okay baby, I’ll use my hand. I’ll start the timer.” You softly whisper the last part, trying to ignore that at the end of the day he’s is just your client.
He moves the computer farther away, new views are unlocked. His stomach, his crotch, his thick thighs all clad in black. 
You click the start timer button. Fifteen minutes left of this view. Fifteen minutes left of Din. 
You lean back and spread your legs to show him your already wet cunt. 
“Want me to play with my pussy for you? Get you nice and hard so you can fuck yourself until you cum for me?”
“Yes,” he hisses. His hand moves down to grip his crotch. 
Fuck, that sends a wave of pleasure through your body as one of your hands spreads your folds wide open.
“Do you see how fucking wet I am Din? How turned on I am by you, I don’t even know how you look, but you drive me crazy.”
He groans as he squeezes his bulge.
“I love how you groan, I wish I could feel it against my pussy while you eat me. I bet you’d lick me so well.”
“I want to taste you, fuck.”
“I want you to test me too. Now, go ahead, take your shirt and pants off. I want to see the rest of you.”
He quickly removes his shirt. God damnit, he’s perfect. Tan chest, tan stomach, the perfect amount of hair running from his chest to his stomach, down to where he’s currently unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. You can’t believe your eyes, as he lifts his hips to move the fabric down. Everything about him is big and strong. Lean, but filled out in all the right places. Strong and soft. How the fuck is he still a virgin? Your mouth waters at the sight of his erection now barely hiding behind the thin black fabric of his briefs. 
“Din,” you begin to rub circles around your clit, happy for the pressure, “you look so good for me, let me see your cock. Let me stare at it, you want me to see your cock?”
“Yes.”
He’s such a man of few words, you love it. His words are simple, straightforward, efficient, just like his name. Din.
He pulls his boxers down, his cock springs up. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’s rock hard, pulsing, golden toned, leaking from the tip, all surrounded by dark brown hair, you knew he had dark hair. He’s HUGE.
“Din, you’re fucking beautiful baby, I can’t believe it,” you gasp. “Fuck yourself for me, I can’t wait to see you cum all over your beautiful skin for me.”
His fist wraps around his shaft, you’ve seen some pretty hot things in your line of work. You’ve had some really attractive clients call in, but right now? Right now is the hottest thing you’ve ever been blessed to witness. Din stroking his cock for you, watching his stomach move with each breath he takes. You’re too focused on him to realize your finger has been paused on your clit since he first unsheathed his cock. 
“Fuck, Din, you’re making me forget what I’m doing, you look so good. I can’t believe it.” 
He groans, his grip tightens at the tip as he fucks himself. 
“Something about seeing you like this, hearing you moan and groan for me,” your finger runs a line back and forth between your hole and your clit. “It just does something to me. It’s so fucking sexy.”
He lets out a strangled grunt raising his hips and pumping his hand faster, “I-I don’t think I’m going to last long.”
“That’s good baby, watching you is already making me want to fucking cum,” you stick two fingers in, your cunt already fluttering around them. 
“Wh-what would you do if I was with you right now fu—fucking you?”
“I’d kiss you,” your other hand travels down to begin circling around your clit, “I’d kiss your strong neck, I’d lick into your mouth and taste you. Wrap my hands around your big arms and hold on as your big cock destroys my pussy.”
“Goddddd,” he whimpers, “I-I’d like that.” His hand becoming a blur on your screen as he strokes quicker. 
The stupid five minute warning pop up shows up. You’re getting real good at ignoring it with him.
“You like that I’m about to cum on your cock? You really do something to me Din, I can’t believe how quick and hard you make me cum.”
His hips begin bucking into his first, the chair he’s on squeaking as he rapidly moves up and down. You love hearing the sound of him fucking himself mixed with the sound of you fucking yourself. 
“I’m going to cum baby,” he grunts, he called you baby.
Your eyes widen as you watch him spurt white ropes of his cum all over his stomach and thighs. There’s so much. 
Your cunt begins to spasm around your fingers as your climax crashes through you.
“Din, you feel so good. You came so good,” you gasp as you orgasm, trying to keep your shaking legs wide for him to watch. You pant for air as you get your bearings back, you’re obsessed with how this comedown feels. 
“That was amazing Din,” you smile, “not to be too forward, which is a funny thing to say right now, but you look really good.”
“Wow,” he laughs, “thank you. I feel the same way about you.” Your smile widens, you bet his face is so handsome when he laughs.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how in the hell are you a virgin with a dick like that?”
“Some weird religion stuff… I’m no longer a part of. Long story, maybe one day I’ll tell you.”
“I’d like that.”
The one minute timer shows its ugly head. 
“Fuck, we have a minute left,” you frown. “I, uh, would you take my number?” Now it’s your turn to feel nervous. 
“Y-yes. Sure.”
You lean forward and type your number into the chat box. 
“Please call me here next time you want to… talk with me.”
“I will.”
“Don’t be a stranger, Din.”
“I won’t.”
He disconnects.
——
DIN DJARIN WANTS TO FACETIME 
You almost drop your phone at the name. Goosebumps break out across your skin, your heart begins to beat loudly against your chest. You click accept, and this time you really almost drop your phone. 
His face, you knew it… he’s beautiful.
“Hi,” he shyly smiles.
“Hi. Y-you’re gorgeous?”
He laughs, his big brown eyes disappearing behind the crinkles of his eyes. “If you say so.”
“I do. I’m so glad you called me.”
“I am too,” his smile is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 
Sometimes you love your job, especially when it brings someone like Din Djarin into your life. 
___
Hi! Here's the next installment for these two. Fifteen Weeks
779 notes · View notes
theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year ago
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Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika
Dark!Din Djarin x Jedi!Female Reader
Warnings: corruption arc, murder, death of minor character (i don't wanna spoil it but I wanna make sure no one is caught off guard. it's axe woves), possessive behavior, loss and anxiety, light smut, mentions of being intimate
Word Count: 7,842
Summary: Din Djarin is a man who lost everything. His home, his son, his Creed. But at the end of the day, he still had you. He still had you, and he was determined to keep you.
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[a/n: if dark fics aren't your forte, don't worry this isn't super dark. well, not as dark as i originally planned to go. more psychological horror than physical]
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"i denied death for you. and i'd die for you again. kill for you. i'd tear the stars down from the heavens to fashion you a crown. you are my heart. my queen. i'd do anything and everything you ask me."
-Jay Kristoff
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Looking back, you had no chance of not falling in love with Din Djarin. Even despite having plenty of reasons not to. You were on the run from the Empire, trying to keep a padawan safe from them. He was hired to collect said padawan as a bounty. He was a Mandalorian. You were a Jedi. Needless to say, the odds had been stacked against you both, but falling for him was the simplest thing in all the worlds.
You had a lot of reason not to, sure, but you also had no chance in avoiding it. Not with the way he put you and Grogu above everything else⏤ even himself. Not with the way he balanced trusting you to hold your own in a fight versus protecting you when you were overwhelmed. Not with the way his hand would softly brush against you as if he wanted so badly to touch you but thought himself unworthy. Not with the way his hoarse voice whispered your name in the softest concern and care.
Never before had you put any belief in the concept of soulmates, it seemed silly, but after meeting Din you weren’t so sure. The two of you seemed made to fit one another. Complement. Make the other stronger, better. The way you both understood one another, the care and love that came so easily… It was as if you loved him in another life. Like the two of you were destined to find one another in every lifetime. Made of the same stardust and shaped by the galaxy itself.
You loved Din Djarin. You loved him so damn much, and it made watching him crumble that much harder.
“Din.” You mumbled. Boba had swooped back to pick the lot of you up after the successful rescue mission. Though calling it successful seemed…bittersweet. Grogu was safe, but Grogu was gone. You wandered closer to where Din sat in a chair. He had isolated himself the moment you all boarded the ship. He was slumped over, elbows on his knees, and head hanging down. You knelt down by his side and squeezed his arm. “Hey. I wanted to check on you.” Din nodded, but stayed silent. His helmet stayed facing down, away from you, and it broke your heart to see him so devastated. “Tell me what you need, baby. I can stay or I can give you some space.”
Again, Din did not respond, but he turned his arm just enough to grasp you by the hand. You gave it a slight squeeze and just stayed there. For the rest of the flight neither of you moved. You knew Din felt like he couldn't complain. Grogu was safe with Skywalker, set to train and harness his gifts. Softly, you reassured him that whatever he was feeling was alright. He stayed silent.
Boba and Fennec’s goal was to reach Tatooine so you and Din tagged along. It wasn’t far. You all got there in a matter of hours and when you parted ways, Boba encouraged you or Din to call him if anything was ever needed. It didn’t take long for you to get a room at an inn. 
That night in bed you held Din close. The room had been darkened so even if you did open your eyes all you could see was his silhouette. He loved you with soft touches and thankful whispers, and when the both of you were spent and exhausted Din collapsed into you. Typically, he liked being the big spoon. Din loved wrapping his body around yours, all encompassing, as if he needed to protect you even in sleep. However, tonight, Din clung to your side⏤ an arm draped over your waist as he laid his head on your bare chest. You held him close, raking a hand through his hair tenderly.
The room was filled with quiet breaths, and when Din spoke his voice was so hushed that you nearly missed it.
“Don’t leave me, cyar'ika.” He seemed to beg. “I can’t lose you.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” You said firmly. Holding onto him tighter. You continued to whisper promises of staying by his side long after he fell asleep.
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Din wanted to find the covert. That was what he told you he needed. You had no qualms with that. You wanted to do whatever you had to in order to help him find some semblance of normal. Coruscant was not one of your favorite places in the galaxy, but you’d walk through hell as long as Din was by your side. As you followed him, his eyes tracking signs and clues you couldn’t see, your own gaze continued to drift to the saber hanging from Din’s belt. His newest acquisition.
Ages ago, when it had been time to build your own lightsaber, the kyber crystal you chose had really chosen you. Everybody had certain strengths, even within the Force, and yours was reading energies. Your kyber crystal seemed to sing to you. The energy it gave was warmth. It was protective. It was loyal. Building your lightsaber had been a time honored tradition you treasured. Having it hang from your hip was something you did not take lightly. It gave you strength.
The energy coming from the darksaber felt…wrong. It was hard to put into words. It was muted to you, as if trying to hide, but still the darksaber seemed to weep a negative energy into the air itself. You didn’t like it, but you had no significant reasoning why other than ‘it feels bad’.
When the two of you reached the covert, Din was adamant about you coming in with him. Even when you told him you thought it was a bad idea, he still tangled his hand in yours and dragged you in. Just as you thought the other two Mandalorians there were unhappy with seeing you. In part because of the lightsaber on your hip, but more so because you were not their kind. You were not Mandalorian. Auretii. That’s what the Armorer called you. An outsider. It wasn’t inaccurate. 
The interaction started bad and only got worse.
Paz Vizsla challenged Din for the darksaber, a man you knew that Din considered to be a brother even despite rough disagreements in the past, and watching Din use the saber sent a chill down your spine. It was too heavy in his hands, and with every swing the blade was more difficult for Din to use. You could see it in his stride. You didn’t know how to explain it⏤ it was always difficult to explain the way an energy felt to you⏤ but the saber was fighting. It was annoyed.
Din won the battle.
“Din Djarin, have you ever removed your helmet?” The silence that followed the question broke your heart. “Have you ever removed your helmet?” You felt useless watching Din endure this pain. It was the same watching Skywalker carry Grogu away. You were a witness to his suffering. “By Creed, you must vow.”
“I have.”
“Then, you are a Mandalorian no more.”
The walk back into the depths of Coruscant was silent and painful. You slipped your hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I’m here. I’m not leaving. You will not lose me. Din returned the squeeze, but the pain was radiating off him in palpable waves. A feeling washed over you and your eyes darted to Din’s hip where the saber rested. Smug. It felt smug. 
The two of you walked into the covert as Mandalorian and Jedi, but left as Apostate and Aruetti.
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You had the opinion that Din never got to properly mourn the loss of the Razor Crest. With everything going on at the time, it seemed like the least of the problems you both had. However, it's loss was felt now. Even in the short time you spent with Din and Grogu, the ship had become a place of comfort. For Din, the Crest had been all he had for so long⏤ it was his home. It held all his belongings and in a singular second it was all gone.
That aching wound was constantly festering, but when the two of you were forced to ride in public ships to get from world to world you could tell it stung Din the most. That’s how you’d have to get off Coruscant, but a small victory came in the form of a message from Peli. 
“Din, you’re not gonna believe this.” You grinned as he returned from whatever errand he had to do. “Peli has a possible Razor Crest replacement. She just messaged me. If we can just get to⏤”
“No.”
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but Din took you by the hand and began to travel the opposite way of the small inn you were staying in. “What?”
“I found a ship. Here. Already purchased it.”
Surprise washed over you. “Wait.” You tried to get him to stop and look at you, but Din seemed like a man on a mission. “You bought it already? Without even asking me?”
“It was my credits.”
The words stung. It was so dismissive. Nothing like the way Din usually spoke to you. He always discussed big decisions with you, just as you did with him. The two of you were a team. Through and through. Din seemed to sense your displeasure and his steps faltered.
“Cyar'ika, ni ceta.” Din murmured. You recognized the apology. He turned and settled a hand on the side of your face. “I…I don’t know what came over me. I suppose I was just excited.”
“It’s…” You lifted a hand to cup the one tenderly caressing your cheek. Din had just lost his Creed. The cornerstone of his existence. Of course, he’d be short. You’d be more worried if he wasn’t showing signs of being upset. You gave him a tight lipped smile. “No, I’m sorry. Are you alright? How do you feel?” Din didn’t respond. “Baby?”
He shook his head, his voice quiet. “I’m just ready to be off world.”
“I understand.” You gave him a smile. “Show us our new home then.”
Din let out a small chuckle and you took that as a victory. He led you to a yard of ships and pointed out a black ship with burgundy accents. It was nothing special. It wasn’t the Razor Crest. However, it had enough space for the both of you.
“This is nice.” You explored the cargo hold. 
“It’ll do.” Din countered.
You jumped when you heard the ramp closing and as Din passed you to get to the cockpit, he set his hand on your lower back to take you with him. As you settled in the passenger seat, you watched as Din familiarized himself with the control panel. When the ship reached the atmosphere, you leaned forward.
“Hey, maybe we should go see Peli anyways. Say hello.” You suggested. “She can look the ship over and tell us if we need anything…” Peli would just rip you off, but she was a familiar face. Boba and Fennec were on Tatooine as well. You thought Din could use more than just you. A reminder that he had more in his life than he thought. “Din?”
“No.” Din replied. He placed in a set of coordinates and you recognized them to be Nevarro. Well, maybe that would work. Karga was there. Cara too. Last you heard, Mayfeld was kicking around the newest establishment. The ship slipped into hyperspace and Din held a hand out to you. When you took it he yanked you toward him and you fell onto his lap. “We’re needed in Nevarro. Karga.”
He said it as if the name was enough. Before you could ask for further clarification, Din was tossing his gloves aside. He hit a button that shaded the windows, dimming the room till it was nearly impossible to see then he whispered to close your eyes. It was natural for you to do just as he asked. His hands grasped at your hips, pulling you down to grind against your core, and a pair of lips began to leave open mouth kisses along your neck.
“Cyar'ika…” Din breathed as he wrestled your shirt off you. Rough and desperate. Yanking your breast band off with it. The moment you were bare to the chilly air of the cockpit, Din’s hot mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, teeth grazing sensitive skin, and you moaned. Din pulled away and you already missed his mouth. “Need you. Need all of you.”
Din loved you with rough hands and frantic begging. When the two of you were spent, breathless and sweaty, you slumped against his body. Din trailed his hands up and down your spine as if he couldn’t fathom not touching you.
“I can’t lose you.” He murmured in your ear. “Not you, cyar'ika.”
“You won’t.” You reassured him. “You won’t lose me.”
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The reason Din stopped in Nevarro, stopped to see Karga, was for bounty pucks. You had never seen him take so many at once and he said less than ten words to the High Magistrate of Nevarro before dragging you back to the ship. 
A distraction. You convinced yourself. It was just a distraction. 
Din needed something to keep his mind busy and what better than bounty hunting? As long as you were there to keep an eye on him, make sure he’s cared for, then everything would be alright. It might take time, but it would be okay. That’s what you told yourself. Over and over and over. You wondered if the reassurance was more for your benefit. 
The first couple of bounties went normal, but slowly things began to feel…different. Wrong. The quarries Din brought in were more often cold than warm these days. He seemed to be favoring the darksaber as well. It had gone from a weapon used as a last resort to one of his regulars. Din got better with the weapon after every quarry, and the saber’s energy felt like it was singing. As wrong as it all felt, Din seemed himself still. In fact, he almost seemed closer to his normal self. The aching sadness and mourning wasn’t so present. 
“Din?” You called out from where you sat at the small table. Rather than staying on the new ship, the two of you had rented a room at a local inn. It put you closer to where the current quarry was hiding. “You in the mood for something specific? For dinner, I mean?” Din had stepped into the bathroom to clean up and still had yet to come out. “Baby?”
Concern began to take root, but the door opened and you felt it slip away only to be replaced by shock. A stranger in familiar armor stood in the doorway. Din. Din was helmetless. You quickly shut your eyes with a curse. Heavy footfalls crossed the room to stand in front of you and you felt Din’s warm hands on your cheeks.
“Cyar'ika, look at me.”
“Din, what are you doing?” You gasped. It had been nearly two months since the covert, but even then he kept his helmet on. Never took it off. You didn’t understand what had suddenly changed now so suddenly. “I⏤”
“I want you to see me.”
“But⏤ But, why now?”
Din’s thumbs were tracing your cheek and he wouldn’t answer your question. He murmured again for you to open your eyes and you hesitantly peeked through your lashes. Din stood towering above you. From where you sat, you had to look up to admire his features. His appearance was never important to you. You fell in love with the soul inside that armor. Din always swore you’d see his face one day, but the context would be different. He’d whisper about a future together as you both laid tangled in bed. 
He was handsome. Strong features, pretty dark brown eyes, scruff along his jaw. And his hair, you were finally able to see the dark slightly loose curls that you’d run your fingers through. You slowly stood and lifted a hand to trace his features.
“Am… Am I okay?” Din asked. 
The phrasing of the question was odd and it took you a moment to garner a guess. You cupped his face with a broad smile. “You’re more than okay. You’re perfect. Maker, it’s kind of not fair how handsome you are.” You kept your tone teasing and Din chuckled. The sight of his smile warmed your chest. “What brought this on?”
“I am an Apostate.” Din said firmly and you felt your own smile falter. His dark brown eyes stayed locked onto yours and though they held the depth and soul you always knew they would there was something else there. “I am no longer Mandalorian. Why should I hide my face any longer?”
“Din…” You mumbled. Concern leaking into your voice. This was quite the huge and sudden leap to make. “You⏤”
He leaned in and pressed a light kiss against your lips. The kiss turned deeper as Din began to devour you. Needy and wanting. Desperate. Soon he had you picked up into his arms so he could slam you against the wall. It always felt like Din craved you⏤ that wasn’t in debate. Right now though, he was like a man starved. As if he had never had never had you before and was worried he’d never have you again.
Din loved you like a man possessed. Pressed between him and the wall he was unrelenting. Still, held tight by the man you were in love with, Din moaned and begged for you to stay with him. He didn’t even pause to let you reassure him. Just praised the way you felt and pleaded for you to be his. 
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There was something wrong with Din.
As you sat in the dingy alley, panting heavily from your near death experience, that was the first thought to occur to you. A hunt had gone wrong. One of the quarry’s allies had gotten the jump on you. You had taken a few hits, saw an opening to save yourself, but before you even had a chance the goon was being ripped off of you. Din had saved you, but it didn’t feel like being saved from where you sat.
Din had ripped the man off you and rather than use the darksaber he chose to beat the goon bloody with his hands. Blood splattered in the alley, on his otherwise spotless armor, and you found yourself trembling. The man who had been attacking you was long dead, but Din did not stop. His face was twisted in rage and hate. You called out his name, more than once, and eventually he paused in his onslaught to catch his breath. His chest was heaving from exertion and you could tear your eyes away from the red that stained his silver beskar.
Slowly, Din rose and stalked toward you. For a brief moment, you didn’t recognize Din. You didn’t know the stranger towering over you. He knelt down and reached out to cup the side of your face. The hot blood of the man Din had slaughtered smeared across your cheek. You could feel it and it sent a chill of fear down your spine. The hate began to dissipate from his eyes. There was a softness you recognized now, but for the first time you’d describe Din as hollow.
“Are you okay, cyar'ika?” He breathed. You nodded nervously. Din grabbed you by the arms and pulled you to stand. He let out a sigh of relief and wrapped you into a tight hug. He pressed you against his blood stained armor and laid his head on top of yours. Din shook his head, a shaky breath slipping from his lips, “I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you. No one will take you from me. I swear it, cyar'ika.” 
Relief and love radiated from Din, but all you could feel was the humming possessive energy that the darksaber blasted into the air around you both.
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The sensation of dropping out of hyperspace woke you up. You blinked and reached out to a cold bed. Din had gotten up and was now dropping you out of hyperspace? You pushed up and slid out of bed. You found Din in the cockpit and the sight of an unfamiliar world hung in view just outside the ship. 
“Where are we?”
“Mandalore.”
You sat down in the passenger seat and grabbed Din by the knee forcing him to set the ship to drift and turn to face you. “What the kriff do you mean Mandalore?” Din didn’t respond. He leaned back in his seat and just stared at you. You were still trying to get used to seeing him without his helmet. Din rarely wore it these days. Even in a fight. “Din.”
“We’re meeting allies here.”
“For what?!”
“We’re recovering our home.”
Din was answering the questions as if you were being ridiculous for even asking them. As if you had been privy to this knowledge. Frustration made your temper flare. “Din, are you serious!?” He didn’t react and somehow that was worse. “We need to talk.”
“Then talk.”
Things had only gotten worse with Din. You were scared of what he was capable, but never in relation to you. No matter how cold his eyes grew, no matter how lost in got in a brutal fight, no matter how bitter the darksaber made the air, you knew Din wouldn’t hurt you. That knowledge was ingrained in your very soul. What worried you⏤ what kept you awake at night⏤ was your worry for Din. He always said he couldn’t lose you, but it felt like you were the one losing him.
“Baby.” You murmured and rose to take a seat in his lap innocently. Just trying to get closer to him. You cupped his face and at your contact the cold, distant look in his eyes briefly cracked. Din stared up at you in adoration and love. “I’m… I’m scared.”
Din furrowed his brow and sat up. His arms wrapped around your waist. “Don’t be. You never have to be scared. I’m never going to let anything hurt you.”
“No, Din, that’s not what I’m scared of.” You replied. “I’m scared for you. I’m worried about you.”
“I’ve never been better, cyar’ika.”
You raked a hand through his hair trying to convey every ounce of passion you felt for him in the simple motion. “Din… I’ve been wanting to say this for some time.” You shook your head. “The darksaber.” There was a flash of something unrecognizable in his gaze, but you pressed onward. “It’s… dangerous. You know when I told you about my lightsaber. It’s energy.” He nodded. “The darksaber gives off an energy too, and I don’t like it.”
“What do you mean?” Din asked.
“It feels like,” You winced and struggled for a description to match, “poison. Din, baby, it feels like poison.” Din shook his head as if he still could not understand what it was you were trying to say. “I think it’s a bad influence.”
Din scoffed but the curl of his lips made it seem like he wasn’t taking your statement seriously. “Cyar’ika, it’s a sword. It can’t influence me.”
“It’s not just a sword, Din. It has a kyber crystal in it and⏤”
“Are you trying to tell me I need to get rid of it?” He pressed. You gave a small nod. “I can’t. I need it.” You opened your mouth to argue, but his arms tightened around you. “If we’re going to take Mandalore back, recover it, then I have to use the darksaber. Be Mandalor.”
Your eyes widened. “Since when did you want that title??”
“But more importantly, I need it to protect you.” He whispered, ignoring your question entirely. Din leaned his forehead against yours and the touch was so soft and reverent that you shuddered. He took in a slow deep breath. “You are my priority. Always. The darksaber grants me the power to keep you safe.”
You pressed a tender kiss to his lips and Din’s breath hitched. As you spoke, you kept your lips close enough to brush against his with every word. “You never needed it before. And I’m not helpless. You know that.” Din closed his eyes and you dragged your fingers through his scruff. “We were fine without the darksaber. We don’t need it.”
Din leaned in to capture your lips with his. For the first time in a very long time, the kiss was slow and patient. He took his time tasting you and he leaned back to allow your hands to travel and explore him. It was so reminiscent of the days before everything fell apart that you almost cried.
Eventually, he pulled back and focused his heavy gaze on you. Din gave you a small smile, a hand tracing your jawline. “No, cyar’ika. The saber stays.” Your own smile faltered and fell. He left one last chaste kiss on your lips. “I love you. I will protect you.”
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Your life on Mandalore was odd. Din left you out of the loop of everything. All you knew was that more and more Mandalorians arrived by the day to follow Din Djarin. It didn’t surprise you. The Din you knew and loved was a natural born leader whether he liked it or not. He had a magnetic draw to him. You didn’t see that side to your Din very much anymore. 
The city around you was slowly being rebuilt and you pondered your next move. Two months you had been on this rock seeing Din from a distance. Watching him turn into someone you didn’t recognize. When the palace was reestablished, a sentence you found obnoxious and ridiculous, Din moved you there to stay. He’d work all day, drift into your shared bedroom at night, and you mourned the days where everything was easier. Simple.
“Cyar’ika.”
You glanced over your shoulder to see the Mandalor approaching. The king of this world looked like Din, still stared at you as if you hung the moon and stars, but all you could see was the darksaber. It’s possessive energy clung to the man you loved. Two Mandalorian guards followed behind him, and you briefly admired the thick, fur lined cape that hung off one shoulder.
Din came to a stop in front of you and motioned to himself with a sheepish smile, “What do you think?”
“Very regal, Mandalor.” You teased softly.
Din drifted closer and took your hands in his. “Ni ceta, cyar’ika.” He mumbled. “I know I haven’t been around.”
“You’ve been busy. I get it.” You shrugged and tried to keep the bitterness out of your voice.
“But you come first. You always come first.” Din said firmly. “Things will be better from here on out. We’re stable. We’re established. And… I have a surprise for you.” Nervously, Din lifted your hands to tenderly press a kiss to them. “I have no right to ask, but will you give me your time today.”
It was so sweet. It was so Din. You were too overwhelmed to do anything but nod. Things could always turn around, you told yourself. All your time here, distanced from Din, you had planned. He needed a little exposure to his old life. You were the only person Din kept. Maybe seeing Boba and Fennec, seeing Peli, seeing Karga, seeing anyone would bring him back to the surface more permanently. You had even wanted to get in touch with Skywalker or Ahsoka to plan some kind of visit. If Din could see Grogu, you had no doubt he’d snap back into reality. He’d set aside the darksaber. The issue was, Mandalore still had thick storm clouds that prevented any outside interference or messaging. 
You felt isolated.
Din looped your arm through his and you walked by his side down the long hallway. You weren’t sure where he was taking you quite yet, but he spoke casually about his day and asked about yours with real interest. His smile was so warm and sincere that you could almost ignore the negative energy that damned saber gave off.
“Where are we going?” You asked as Din turned down a hall you knew would lead outside. “If we go out, I’m gonna need to grab my jacket.” Mandalore’s seasons still confused you and it almost seemed like the previous attacks had thrown the natural order out of balance. Lately, it had been rather cold.
“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you.” Din chuckled. He paused by the doors and you couldn’t help but glance at the two silent Mandalorian guards still standing near. Movement made you glance back in time to see he had shrugged out of his thick robe. Din settled the heavy article on your shoulders and you were surprised by the warmth it encased you in. “Comfortable?”
You nodded with a small smile. The robe smelled like him. Din captured your face in his gloved hands and you gazed up at him in awe. Din was in a good mood. It had been so long since you saw him like this. Light hearted. Excited. “Are you happy?” The question fell from your lips before you could even think.
“Of course.” Din replied quickly. His tone suggested he was surprised you’d ask. “I have you.”
“You’ve always had me.” You mumbled.
Din’s face faltered, only for a second, before he bowed his head to rest on yours. Forehead to forehead. “Ni ceta.” He breathed the apology out sincerely. “I know things have been hard and…you’ve put up with so much. I’m so thankful for you, cyar’ika, and my greatest regret will always be making you question that.”
“I never questioned it.” You lifted a hand to place on top of his own. “I love you, and I know you love me. I’ve just…been worried about you, baby. I want you to be happy.”
“I am.” Din replied. “You make me happy.” He closed the space to press his lips to yours. Tender. Loving. Passionate. Din’s tongue traced the curve of your lower lip and you allowed him to deepen the kiss. Your hands shifted to tangle in his hair. Din pulled you closer, flush against his body, and it didn’t even matter to you that two other Mandalorians stood off to the side as witness to this scene. Din pulled back, separating the two of you, but he quickly set two more chaste kisses against your lips as if he couldn't bear the thought of being apart. Din whispered a promise under his breath. “For the rest of my life, I will make you happy. I’ll keep you safe.”
You had endured the hell of watching Din suffer and begin to lose himself in sorrow. Perhaps, this was the light at the end of the tunnel. Din had found stable ground, and he was now returning to a man you recognized.
Din turned away to push open the doors, but he kept your arm looped through his. The courtyard which typically sat unused and in a semi state of shambles had been cleaned and polished. Mandalorians as far as you could see stood waiting and as Din walked you down the path you spotted a medium sized platform, nearly a stage, and on it was a chair⏤ no, a throne. That was the only word to describe the heavy, dark metal seat. Standing on the platform, you recognized Bo Katan. She stood on one side of the throne. On the other side stood two others that you recognized, you had seen them with Din often, but you didn’t know their names.
“Din?” You whispered his name.
He shot you a smile but continued on. Suddenly, you found yourself on the platform standing beside Din as he faced the crowd. He lifted one hand, as if in greeting, and you stared at him as he spoke Mando’a. His voice was loud and firm. Powerful. This was a king among men. You never thought Din Djarin of all people would look like he belonged in this setting. You knew he had the attributes that would make a fair and just king, but Din had never enjoyed the spotlight. The future he craved, the future he painted while speaking to you in the dead of night, was a humble one. A home, some land, a family. Peaceful.
A bark of Mando’a, in a voice you vaguely recognized, interrupted Din and you watched as his shoulders stiffened. The crowd parted and a Mandalorin in dark blue armor approached. Axe Woves. That was his name you believed. You didn’t know what he was saying, but you could feel the tension in the air.
Din set his hand on your waist and pushed you back. You only stumbled back a few steps before Bo Katan took you by the elbow and dragged you back further.
“What⏤ What is going on?” You asked.
“Challenge.” Bo Katan said. Din drew the darksaber from his belt and as it came to life you felt your own heart plummet. It’s poison was spewing in the air⏤ suffocating you. Smug. Arrogant. Angry. Insulted. You sucked in a sharp breath. “Axe Woves has challenged Din for the darksaber. For rule.”
The fight started in a clash of weaponry. 
It was a blur of beskar, but all your eyes could focus on was the arc of the darksaber. The burning glow that was now seared into your eyes. Seared into your brain. You wanted nothing more than to take that damned thing and throw it into the darkest pit you could find. Every time you watched Din used it, you hated it all the more. The fight did not last long.
Axe Woves was a good fighter, but he was not Din Djarin.
Soon, the air was silent as Din held the edge of the darksaber just under Axe’s jaw. Close enough that the man had to have felt the heat. Axe was breathing hard, but you couldn’t see his face⏤ his back was to you. Din stood where you could see his face and he looked to be the picture of calm. 
“Cetar.” Din demanded. Bo Katan whispered, her eyes not leaving the scene, as she translated the Mando’a. ‘Kneel’. Din asked him to kneel. You felt a chill run up your spine and it wasn’t from the cold air. The darksaber was singing. Excited. Eager. It craved and craved and craved. Din repeated the command. “Cetar.”
“Nayc.” Axe replied. You didn’t need that word translated. 
At the sound of his refusal, you watched a flash of an emotion you didn’t immediately recognize in Din’s eyes. However, it was clear to see the way his lips briefly curled up into a smirk. You opened your mouth to scream, but all your words caught in your throat. Thick, heavy, and unwilling to be heard. Before you could overcome your hindrance, Din shoved the darksaber through Axe’s chest with not even a singular hiccup of hesitation. Your mouth hung open in shock and disbelief, but the horror didn’t land until Din leaned in and used his vibroblade to slice through the man’s neck in one swift motion. Blood sprayed out and the darksaber was screaming in pleasure.
“He had to make an example.” Bo Katan whispered. “It’s unfortunate, but Woves brought this upon himself.”
Din deactivated the saber and set it back onto his belt. While Axe Woves’ body slumped to the ground, Din tucked the still bloody vibroblade back into his boot’s holster. You stared at him wide eyed and horrified as Din marched back to the platform. He spoke before the crowd again, but it felt like your ears were ringing. The man you fell in love with would never have cut a man down in cold blood. The duel had been over. It didn’t have to end with blood. 
You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Din as he crossed the platform to sit on the throne. His legs were spread out in dominance as he lounged in the seat radiating confidence and pride. His eyes snapped to yours and Din held his hand out to you. Bo Katan gave you a small nudge and you stumbled toward the throne with hesitant steps. Din’s cold features melted away as he stared up at you as he always did, loving, but it only made the splattering of blood on his face that much more daunting. 
When you placed your hand in his, your fingers were trembling. Din squeezed your hand in comfort and he carefully pulled you back so you sat in his seat. Bo Katan was addressing the crowd and you stared and stared at Axe Woves’ dead body. Still laying on the courtyard’s ground, the pool of blood around him growing larger and larger.
You felt Din’s breath on your neck. His hands settled on your hips as he sat up to press his chest against your back. His breath was replaced with his lips. Din mumbled about how much he loved you and how important you were to him against your skin. All this time, all the hope you had, was for naught. The man at your back was a stranger.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Din pressed another hot kiss to the back of your neck. "But I just wanted to show you our new throne, my queen. Surprise."
As it turned out, the light at the end of the tunnel had turned out to be just more hellfire.
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In the dead of night, you ran. 
You had hoped Din would return to his senses, become the man he once was, on his own accord. You hoped he had only needed time, but this had been proof. You were out of your depth. Din needed more than just time, he needed more than just you. As soon as you got past the thick, stormy atmosphere on Mandalore, you’d call for help. 
The plan had been to take Din’s ship. It was the only one you were familiar with the controls enough to not have to worry about running into any issues. As it turned out, flying was not going to be the biggest problem you faced.
“Cyar’ika.”
Your blood ran cold. Slowly, nervously, you turned around to see Din stood not far away. His shoulders were slumped in disappointment, and the look in his eyes could only be described as absolute and total devastation. He took one step forward and you took one back. Din’s jaw locked.
“Din…”
“What are you doing?” Din murmured. 
You shook your head. “Listen to me⏤”
“Listen??” Din scoffed. He took in a shuddering breath. “How could you⏤ Cyar’ika, I… Why?”
His voice cracked and you felt your heart ache in your chest. Din took another step toward you and you held a hand up which brought him to a sudden halt. You pressed your lips together then tried to explain that you were doing this for him. “Din, you’re not…you’re not yourself. You need help.”
“I need you.” Din replied firmly. “Everything is fine.”
“You murdered a man in cold blood today.”
“Is that what you⏤ You truly think so little of me?” Din asked. “It was a duel, cyar’ika. A challenge on my rule. I had no choice.”
You took a step toward him. “Din, you slaughtered him. And you enjoyed it.”
Din’s eyes darkened and the energy that slammed into you was possessive. For so long, you assumed that was how the darksaber felt. However, seeing the way he stared at you now, you realized the possession went much further than how the saber felt for him. He stormed forward and on pure instinct your hand drew your lightsaber without activating it. A warning. His steps stuttered. You didn’t know it was possible to visually see a person’s heart break, but you were witness to it right now.
“Cyar’ika,” Din whispered, “I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”
That was true for the man you fell in love with. 
Was it still true?
“I…I…” You struggled to find your words.
Din held his hands out, palms up, in surrender. He took slow steps toward you as if you were a skittish animal he was trying to calm. The tenderness in Din’s gaze cracked your resolve. He reached out and let his hands slowly drag down your arms until they reached your hands. You felt your body tremble. It was easy to make the decision to run when you stared at Din’s features covered in blood, but now? His warm, brown eyes reminded you of every soft touch and tender word of love. 
“Just come back with me.” Din whispered. “Talk to me, cyar’ika. I know…I know things haven’t been right.” He squeezed your hands and pushed the one holding the lightsaber back to your hip. “Let me fix this. Let me make this right. Give me a chance.”
Din leaned forward to set his forehead against yours. A familiar motion that brought you comfort. You let out a soft sigh. One more night. You could spend it talking with Din, gauging a better plan, and it wasn’t like you would be able to leave right now anyways. Not with him right in front of you like this. The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just going to let you walk away and the absolute last thing you wanted to do was fight him. 
“Please?” Din pleased.
“Okay.” You murmured. 
The bright smile of relief that crossed his face made your heart flutter. Din pulled you into a tight hug and he clung to you like a lifeline. This would be alright. This would be okay. You’d make sure of it. Din slipped his hand into yours and carefully tugged you alongside him. The entire walk back to your bedroom was silent. Din’s thumb traced patterns against your skin.
“I love you.” Din said the moment you were back in your shared room together. His words came out as a desperate ache. “I’m sorry…”
“No, Din, I…I love you. I will always love you.” You replied. “I was leaving to help you.” Din’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I just think you’ve lost sight of your path.” You pressed your lips together then settled your hands on his chest. “I think we should leave Mandalore. Not forever, just⏤ I think we should visit Boba or Karga. Peli? Or… Or maybe we can reach out to Skywalker. Try to visit Grogu.”
Din’s eyes widened at the suggestion. 
He wrapped his hands around your wrists then lifted your hands so he could press a soft kiss against one palm then the other. Din nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow. I’ll be better, cyar’ika.” You gave him a small smile and he leaned in to crash his lips against yours. The way his lips moved against yours made you feel like he was trying to physically beg you to stay with him. Din had never been a man of many words, he’d whisper kind sentiments, but he always showed how much he cared by action. “I love you.” Din’s mouth dropped to your neck as his hands began to tear at your clothes. “You are everything to me.”
 Your hands reached out to unlatch Din’s armor. It was muscle memory for you. How many times had you done this exact same action in the dark during your time with him? Too many to count. His besker fell to the ground and the second he was bare of any armor, Din scooped you up and carried you to bed.
In the morning everything would be okay.
You’d make it so.
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A familiar hand caressing the side of your face is what you woke to. You forced your eyes open, groggy, to find that Din was sitting on the side of the bed leaning over you. He wore his armor once more. Din leaned down and pressed a feather light kiss to your forehead.
“Ni ceta, cyar’ika.”
“Din?” You questioned.
“I want you to know that everything I do is because I love you.” Din said. “I’ve lost everything, but you.” He cradled the side of your face. “Even this, accepting the title and responsibility of Mandalor, I did with you in mind.”
There was a tone in his voice that was making you nervous. Slowly, you sat up and shook your head, “Din, I never asked you to do that.”
“I know.” He replied. “But this is how I protect you.”
“Din⏤”
“There is nothing in this galaxy that will harm you while I’m around.” Din said firmly. He stood up off the bed and gave you a tight nod. “I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you. This won’t last forever, I swear it. But I can’t leave anything to chance. Not when you mean so much to me.”
Din began to walk toward the bedroom door to leave and you stared at him in confusion. Quickly, before he could leave, you threw the blankets off your body and jumped out of bed. There was a heaviness around your left ankle, a coldness, and with every movement came a rattling. You glanced down to see a shiny, silver chain locked around your ankle. It trailed to the wall beside your bed.
“Din.” You breathed. He stopped but said nothing. “Din?” He turned around with sad eyes. Panicked, you began to rush toward him, but a few feet away from him the chain caught your ankle and you nearly fell to the floor. Warm hands caught you by the arms and pulled your back to your feet. Teary eyed, you shook your head. “What have you done?”
“It’s temporary.” Din repeated himself. “Just until I know you won’t hurt yourself by leaving.”
“Hurt myself⏤ Din, I⏤”
“Cyar’ika, I'm doing this for you. To protect you.” Din gave you a tight lipped smile of regret. “Or until I can make you understand.” Din leaned his forehead against yours. The soft action you loved ruined by his words. “You are mine, cyar’ika. You are mine, and I am yours.” That look of possession was in his eyes again. “And because you are mine, I have to take care of you. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.”
Din was beginning to step back so you quickly cupped his face between your hands. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be. As softly as you could manage, trying to bite back the fear and panic in your voice, you mumbled. “Din, baby, you’re losing yourself. I love you, but you’re losing yourself and it’s breaking my heart. Let me go. Let me help you.”
He turned his head and gently kissed the inside of your palm.
“Maybe I am.” Din murmured. “But if that’s the cost of keeping you, then it’s one I will happily pay.”
Din left without another word and you crumpled to the ground in tears. You mourned for the man you lost and cursed the man who took his place.
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mando'a translations
ni ceta: i'm sorry cyar'ika: darling, sweetheart cetar: kneel nayc: no
1K notes · View notes
decembermidnight · 9 months ago
Text
Bad Attitude
Summary: While on patrol duty, you chase a suspect starship but end up crashing on a freezing planet. Its pilot, a Mandalorian, rescues you, but he doesn't like your attitude towards him and makes sure you understand who is in charge.
Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader
Word count: 6.1k
Warnings: smut, 18+ mdni, teasing, dom!din, brat!reader, brat tamer!din, Din is really an asshole here lol, improper use of the darksaber, lots of dirty talk, oral (m receiving), breath play, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, degradation kink, praise kink, creampie
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A/N: Loosely based on The Passenger episode and super canon divergent. I just had fun having nasty thoughts! Reblogs and comments are always welcome!! Hope you enjoy it!
Divider: @saradika-graphics
Masterlist - Read on Ao3
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You… You really did have to follow that ship on this forsaken planet, didn't you?
You couldn't just listen to your partner Carson for once when he warned you to let it go.
Chasing that Razor Crest despite the bad weather on Maldo Kreis was not the smartest idea. Not smart at all, in fact. 
You were only supposed to ask the pilot why his ship was in the proximity of that prison, Bothan-5, when that officer was killed, but he ran away as soon as he heard that name. You immediately started recklessly chasing that old piece of junk in the hostile atmosphere of this awful, unwelcoming planet, and next thing you know your Starfighter crashed, compromising the integrity of the hatch, you’re cut off from your partner and you’ll likely freeze to death before he can come rescue you. Could it get any worse?
It turns out it can.
Just when you switch the radio off, resigned to accept the unavoidable fate, your eyes seem to catch something dark in the snowstorm. At first you assume it’s just your mind playing tricks on you, but when you take a better look, you see it - there’s a dark figure approaching your ship. It must be him - the Razor Crest pilot. As he gets closer, you notice he’s wearing armour, a Mandalorian armour, and you’ve heard the stories about those deadly warriors. You probably made him angry with your insistent pursuit and now he might be killing you so as not to leave witnesses.
You are so fucked. This is the worst day of your life, and also the last.
He lifts the damaged hatch of your ship and looks at you, exposing you to the freezing air of the blizzard. You stare back at him - his broad figure completely towers over yours, but you try not to look intimidated by him.
"Razor Crest, is that you?" you say in a secure tone, wanting to appear tough.
"Yeah." the modulated voice answers as you feel his dark visor lingering on your figure.
"Came here to finish the job?" you try to sneakily grab your blaster in a desperate attempt to defend your life, determined not to die without fighting, or at least, not without trying. 
"Not if you don't try anything stupid like that. Put it down." says in an authoritative tone, his right hand instinctively goes on the holster of his blaster. You quickly realise this is not the moment for heroism if you want to survive. 
"Don't give me orders. I'm a New Republic officer." you reply firmly.
He scoffs and shakes his head in disdain.
"Dear officer, take a good look around. This frozen tomb doesn't look like New Republic territory to me." he goads you "Now quit it and let's go to my ship."
"Who says I want to come with you?"
"Come on, I’m freezing my ass off, for fuck’s sake." he loses no time in ripping your seatbelt and life support system off your body before grabbing you and carrying you over on his shoulder.
"Put me down! You're so rude!" you protest and try to kick him, but he blocks your legs in the tight grasp of his free arm, immobilising you.
"So far I've been more kind than you deserve. If you keep acting like that, I'll show you how rude I can be." his grip is firm and strong as he gives a warning squeeze to your thigh.
You do not want to admit it, but you feel a thrill of excitement at that - he doesn’t care about the fact that you're a law enforcer, he’s treating you like the scum he’s used to. He probably wants to trade your life for his freedom with Carson later - you’re his hostage now.
When you reach his ship, he finally puts you down. You take off your helmet and look at the Mandalorian that so unceremoniously saved you from certain death earlier.
You realise how much taller than you he is, his armour making him even broader than what he already is. Your eyes can't help lingering on his body in wonder at how strong he must be, how the shiny beskar perfectly completes his thick masculine figure, only adding to his already imposing stance, perfectly concealing his body, making him massive and statuesque. His suit is tight around the arms, you can see the outline of his thick, strong biceps. If only he wasn’t a criminal, if only you weren’t a New Republic officer, if only he wasn’t a complete cunt…
"You done?" a low, baritonal voice interrupts your dirty thoughts.
"Excuse me?" you raise a brow.
"I asked if you're done checking me out."
“What?! I wasn’t-” you lie and you both know it. You do not feel so cold anymore, your cheeks feel hot all of a sudden.
“Yeah. Sure.” the asshole teases as he rests against the wall of his ship, looking at you with crossed arms.
“You hurt?” he then asks.
“No, I’m fine.”
"Good. Let's go up to the cockpit, then. It's warmer up there." 
He climbs up the ladder and when the door closes behind him, you take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself, and follow him. 
When you get in the small room, you find him sitting in the pilot chair facing the windshield with crossed arms and legs spread wide. You settle on his side, standing with crossed arms and gaze fixed on his body. He’s as still and silent as a statue, unreadable under that helmet - is he really relaxed as he wants you to think, or is he carefully studying you? 
"Don't look at me that way." says without moving a muscle.
"How?"
"Same way you've been looking at me since we got on the ship."
"What are you implying?"
"Don't act like you don't know." he turns towards you and stands up, making you imperceptibly startle. He looks imposing and menacing, his helmet slightly tilted observing you.
"You don't trust me one bit, do you?" he scoffs and shakes his head.
"You assaulted that prison and killed that poor man. He was a New Republic officer, just like me. Why should I trust you?”
“Because I didn’t do it.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“What will you do when you find out I was right all along?” the way he doesn’t lose his cool is fascinating, to a degree.
"You’re not. If you were innocent, you wouldn’t have run away and we wouldn't be here now."
He tilts his helmet to the side once again as he looks at you. His gaze and his confidence make you feel hot and uncomfortable at the same time - you wouldn’t want to give out the undeniable way his stoic charm is affecting you, but you hate the way he's been treating you.
"Yeah, we wouldn't be here." he lets out in an allusive tone as he walks one single step forward while you take one back, ending up against the wall. He's so damn tall and broad and… and you're getting so wet. 
You look into his dark visor, feeling his gaze lingering on your body. You can feel the tension, the atmosphere in the cockpit becoming unbearable. It's getting hard to breathe, heat radiating from both of your bodies as you never stop looking at each other. While his sight is unreadable, yours is unmistakably libidinous, your heart pounding in your chest and your pussy throbbing with need, but you're both too proud to surrender first.
"I guess not. You coward." you let out in a far too flirtatious way as you look at him with shameless lust.
"What did you just call me?!" he rasps, sounding so provocative. 
"Coward. That's what you are. Running away from me when I was chasing you and taking me hostage when I was so vulnerable.”
“Shut up.”
“So big and tough in your shiny armour, but you run away as soon as you see a New Republic patrol. I should have just shot you when I had the chance. At least I wouldn’t be sharing this ship with a coward.”
“I said shut up.” 
“What now, Mandalorian? What do you plan to do now that you've kidnapped me? Are you gonna prove me wrong?" you’re wondering if you got too far when he gets dangerously close to you, his menacing figure towering over yours as he grips a handful of your hair, forcing your gaze into his dark visor.
"Do I have to stick my cock in your mouth to make you shut up?"
A flame of lust instantly traverses your body. You feel your blood boiling, making you feel hot and flustered, reason and common sense leaving you at the mercy of a primal, carnal instinct.
"I bet you don't have the balls to do it." you goad him with a smirk on your face.
Oh, you shouldn't have said that, yet you did, and what's worse is that you don't regret it. 
You look at him with shameless desire clouding your eyes, internally cursing at the helmet that can't and won't let you see his reaction to your provocation, waiting for his next move.
You keep your lustful gaze locked on his visor as his hand swiftly unfastens his belt and the zip of his pants. His grip on your hair tightens even more as he pushes you on your knees, immediately sticking his hard, thick cock in your mouth and fuck, the sound he makes. It's worth crashing on a desolated planet and being scolded afterwards. It's guttural and desperate, astonished at how good your poisonous mouth feels when you take him in and your tongue gently swirls around his tip, instead of spitting mean words at him. You keep eye contact as you let the shaft slide in your mouth and coat it generously in your saliva, his head tilted back as he lets out breathy sighs of pleasure.
"You. You need to learn how to fucking behave. Shut up when I tell you to. You have to stop taunting me. Fuck. Is this what you wanted?" 
He takes your head away from his cock to let you answer.
“You’re not as much of a coward as I thought you were.” you tease.
“You are still talking?!” exclaims as he pushes your head towards his cock once again, staying still as he uses your mouth for his pleasure, violently forcing all of his length down your throat. When he rips you away from it, you gasp for breath.
"You look so good like this. On your knees, choking on my cock, finally shutting the fuck up like a good girl." he growls, pleased.
Just as you want more of it, your mouth going towards it once again, his grip on your hair turns to steel and stops you there. You look up to him from your kneeled position and see him shaking his head.
“Why? Are you close already?” you taunt him as he tucks his cock back in his pants.
"Oh, it will take you way more than that to make me come, officer." says as he makes you stand up.
“Bet you want me to prove you wrong so badly. Bet you want to come in my m-” you stop mid sentence as he starts to unzip your flight suit while he pushes you towards the control panel of his ship, making you sit on it and trapping you there with his beskar body, your legs instinctively spread open for him to fit between them.
“Yeah? Go on. What were you saying?” he goads you as his hand slips inside of the thin pants you're wearing under the suit, teasing your clit from outside your underwear.
“I-I was s-saying that - that-” you gasp when his hand finds its way into your panties and reaches your slit.
"Ooh, what do we have here?" exclaims in taunting wonder. His beskar helmet is only a few centimetres distant from your face "Acting all cocky and arrogant before, but damn, feel how wet you are. Bet no one ever made you this wet, officer. Stars, you're dripping for me. All of this just from sucking my cock?" says in a husky voice as two of his thick, gloved fingers slide inside of you.
You grit your teeth in a desperate attempt to hide the way this is making you feel, not wanting to give him satisfaction, but your body is slowly surrendering to him and betraying you, your cunt involuntarily clamping around his fingers, revealing how his words are, in fact, effective on you.
"Oh, I bet you feel so good and you sound so sweet when you moan for me. Feel how hot and tight you are." he keeps teasing you. 
Resisting him is getting near impossible. By now he knows how badly you want it.
"Listen to what we’re gonna do now. You're gonna come on my fingers like a good girl and then I'll fuck you until your partner comes to rescue you."
You can't help it anymore and let out a moan at how sensual his voice sounds as he says those things to you, at the thought of getting fucked by him, all while his fingers keep sliding inside and outside of you, making your cunt spasm around them.
"Oh, I knew it. Damn, such a sweet girl." he rasps as he takes his fingers out.
"What the fuck?!" you snap at him when he does, making him chuckle at your reaction.
"Hey, calm down officer." he teases your lips with his gloved fingers soaked in your arousal. 
You instinctively suck the leather and taste yourself on his fingers, licking them sensually as you look at him in the visor. He hums in pleasure seeing that and goes on playing with your mouth, entranced by the way your tongue swirls around them, until he takes them out and presses his middle finger on your bottom lip.
"Bite." he simply orders and you obey, taking the hem of his glove between your teeth to let his hand slip out of the glove. It's huge compared to yours, callous and veiny and masculine. You hum as it starts trailing down your body and feel the warm trail it leaves on the delicate skin of your neck as he caresses it, your own hands holding tight to the commands of the ship, propping you up to offer yourself to his touch. You can feel his eyes looking at your body from behind the dark visor as his hand slips in your flight suit once again, groping your breast from outside your shirt, his thumb playing with one of your hardened nipples, your back arched and chest puffed out to make it look fuller. You moan loudly when he slides his fingers in your panties and back inside of you. 
"Stars - so fucking wet. I bet your cunt is so beautiful. Spread your legs for me. You're making me so fucking hard." he keeps up the pace and also starts to rub your clit with his thumb, making the pleasure you’re feeling unable to hide and you surrender to him, panting heavily as your eyes cross and roll in delight.
"Really? Eyes rolling, officer?" he taunts you.
"F-fuck y-you-" you rasp with half closed eyes, your sentence gets interrupted as he hooks his fingers, touching something devastating inside of you, making him scoff when he sees the way you squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back, your mouth wide open to let out obscene moans.
"What? Do you want me to stop?" he provokes you.
"Don't you fucking dare." you manage to let out in a barely audible sigh.
He immediately grabs your neck, not liking the way you undermine his authority.
"Careful now, officer." he growls.
You moan back in response at how much you like this - being put back into place, the Mandlaorian reminding you who is in control. You hold tight to his sides, digging your nails in his flight suit as he just pushes you further against the control panel with his body.
You’re a panting mess and you feel so close, so damn close to your orgasm. You beg he won’t stop as you wrap your legs around him. He feels by the irregular, ragged way you're breathing and the way your muscles go rigid around him that you're close.
"What? Coming already?” he chuckles “I will let you just because I want to fuck you so badly. Now come, my dear officer. Come for me."
You pant straight into his helmet when you hear him calling you like that, fogging it where his mouth would be. His hand pushes you over the edge and you moan loudly as he makes you come around his fingers, your hands holding tight to his neck, bringing him down towards you. Your back arches, chest rubbing against his armour and you roll your head back until it hits the transparisteel of the windshield behind you. Your nails scratch him hard and your legs’ grip becomes even tighter, his upper body now trapped in your grasp.
He grabs your chin with his other hand and forces you to look at him in the visor.
"Yes - yes, yes. Like this. Good girl." he growls between his teeth, looking at you as you struggle to keep your gaze on him, your eyes wanting to roll up in pleasure.
He lets you ride your high, never stopping those astounding moves of his hand, making you feel so satisfied, but so guilty and humiliated at the same time.
As the orgasm gradually fades out, your grip on his body loosens.
He takes out his hand right in front of your eyes and, Maker, it's soaking wet, glistening in your arousal. You’re both embarrassed and aroused when you see how wet and yielding you got for him as soon as he started touching you. 
"Damn, officer. How am I going to-"
You don't even let him finish, you've taken his hand in yours and start sucking his fingers. He lets out a satisfied hum when you do that. You clean them thoroughly, sensually massaging his digits with your tongue, humming as you hear him cursing between his teeth in a foreign language.
Once he’s satisfied, he takes them out of your avid mouth.
"Now strip for me, officer. I bet you look so hot under that uniform."
"Forget it." you tease him.
"Too bad you didn't obey me when I asked so nicely."
In an instant his hands start ripping the flight suit off your body as you're kicking out of your boots at the same time. It's rushed, brutal and wild, the both of you completely taken over by lust. His hands linger on your sides, giving you goosebumps and making you sigh when he lifts the thermal shirt off your body and you hold on tight to the panel when he hooks his fingers in the hem of your pants and pulls everything down and away from your body, leaving you completely naked in front of him.
“You look… Good without your uniform on, officer.” he is pleased looking at your naked body. “Wonder if I could say the same about you, Mandalorian.” “You’ll have to use your imagination."
“Are you even a real Mandalorian? Maybe you stole this armour, or maybe you bought it off some Jawas.” you mock him.
"Come here and I’ll show you." he simply says as he sits back on his chair, legs spread wide and a visible bulge in his pants.
Just as you get close to him, he takes out one of his weapons, a strange sword without a blade, and begins to trace your nipple with the hilt. You start to breathe heavily and you can feel your nipple getting harder by the second, your eyes carefully following his movements as he descends ever so slowly, teasing you, trailing your stomach and then your lower belly, stopping right in front of your cunt, driving you crazy, your legs spreading for him, begging for some friction. He softly brushes your lips, carefully avoiding your clit to tease you further, until he finally touches it. The sudden contact of the hilt with your sensitive clit makes you shudder and let out a whimper.
"Don't. Move." he orders as he continues to touch you with that weapon, rubbing it against your clit, producing obscene, wet sounds at the contact. You try to stay as still as you can as he plays with that dangerous weapon so close to your most delicate spot. You beg he'd go faster, you wish you could ride it and come all over it, as pathetic as it sounds, but no, he doesn't want that. He wants to take his time to tease you, getting you nice and wet as he plays with you like you're his toy.
He stands up, towering over you.
"Stick your tongue out."
You immediately do and he starts to trace your mouth with the hilt.
"This is the Darksaber. Whoever wields it can rule all of Mandalore, and you're licking it after I've used it to give you pleasure. Feel how wet you’ve made it. How does that make you feel?"
“Like you should sit down on that chair and take out that cock. Touch yourself while I lick your Darksaber clean, Mandalorian.”
He grunts as you push him back on his chair. He immediately unzips his pants to take his throbbing cock out as you keep licking his weapon clean, pleased at the sight of his erection in his hand.
"Touch yourself for me, Mando" you order him as you trace your tongue on the hilt.
"Enough of that." he grabs you by the hair and pushes you on your knees, forcing you to suck his cock. In a swift movement he grabs the Darksaber with his two hands, using it as leverage to keep your head down, forcing his entire cock into your throat, making you startle at the sudden lack of air.
"You don't get to give me orders." he growls before freeing you from his grasp to let you breathe. You gasp for air and look at him, panting.
Maker, he's so dangerous. He could kill you in one second if he wanted to, and you've never, never been wetter than this, playing this dangerous, twisted game with a deadly warrior.
He gives you a few seconds to breathe and then he's back at it, using his weapon to make you choke on his cock.
"Do you understand? I can do whatever I want to you." he releases you once again. There are tears in the corner of your eyes but that doesn't stop him from doing that one more time.
"You're so fucking pretty, but you also need someone to tame you. You've found the right man. Is that what you were looking for, officer? Someone to tame that bad temper?" he says and releases you one more time. You gasp for air as one tear sheds down your cheek.
"Come here. I'll fuck that bad attitude out of you." he orders as he puts the Darksaber away.
This. This is what you've always been craving, what you always wanted.
You slowly rise from the cold floor, your hands on his thighs as you can't stop looking at each other with longing desire. You straddle him, shaking in anticipation as you sink on his body guided by his hands on your hips, letting his cock slowly slide inside of you. The both of you moan as his cock splits you open for him, making him feel how hot and welcoming you are. You both let out a long, satisfied sigh, his voice is dark and sensual and you spasm around his throbbing cock, heavily aroused to finally have him inside of you.
“Mando, let me see if you're only good with words now."
“Din. I want to hear you screaming my name when I’ll make you come on my cock, officer.”
“You’re pretty confident in your abilities, Mandalorian.”
“Your mouth might say otherwise, but your body agrees with me.” he's so arrogant and full of himself, his confidence is making you wet.
“It does” you concede “you feel good, Din.” you purr in his neck, and he grunts when he hears how sweet your voice can be as you whisper his name while you have his cock buried inside of you. You start riding him slowly, looking at him in the visor as you feel every ridge and vein of his cock, enjoying every single moment of it, letting him almost slip out, only to let him back inside of you. He lets out sighs of satisfaction that drive you insane and only want to make you increase your rhythm but no, not yet, you want to make him pay for the way he's been treating you.
“If I had known my cock would have been enough to tame your bad temper, I’d have fucked you earlier.”
“What about yours, Din? What should I do about you being an asshole to me?” you say as you pull him out of you, making him grunt.
“Fuck. Put it back in.” 
“Not so fast. I want you to behave. Beg for it.” 
“You know I could just take you anytime I want, right?” “I do. But where would the fun be?”
He hums in pleasure as you take his drenched cock in your hand and start to slowly stroke it right in front of your cunt, moaning in his neck just to get him even more aroused.
“Fuck. You’re good at this.” he whimpers.
You start to slide it between your folds, the both of you moaning in arousal.
“Dank Farrik, d-do you want me to die?” he growls, subjugated by your teasing. “I want you to behave.” you whisper in a heady groan as you keep rolling your hips and rubbing your pussy on his cock. “F-fuck. I want to be inside of you so badly.”
“Say it.”
He sighs and pauses, taking a good look at the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.
“Please.” 
“Please what?” you ask, biting your lip in pleasure.
“Please put my cock back inside of you, officer.” there's a hint of annoyance in his voice when he surrenders and sees your satisfied smirk.
“Good.” you whisper gasping against his helmet as you slowly slide his cock deep back inside of you. 
That’s the moment when he digs his fingers in your hips and starts jackhammering you, making you scream as he said he would, your hands clawing on his shoulders.
“Who do you think you are? Do you think you can taunt me? I’m a Mandalorian. A bounty hunter. Bet you’ve never been fucked so good, officer. I’m gonna give you this cock so hard, you’ll never forget about me. You’ll be touching yourself thinking about me for the rest of your life. Thinking about the Mandalorian Din Djarin who fucked your brains out on Maldo Kreis.”
The way he's fucking hard and rough into you as he says those things in an angry, husky voice is pleasurably devastating and addicting, having you moan frantically as your body is held still by his strong hands.
"Oh, fuck, Din, don't stop. Don't stop!" you let out in a desperate cry.
"Do you want to come on my cock, officer? Let me hear it. I want to hear you beg for it."
"Please, please Din, make me come on your cock." you drawl, subjugated by lust.
"Mmm - you sound so hot when you beg for me. Keep going and I won't stop."
"Please! I've never been fucked like this, Din." your heart is racing, your breathing is getting laboured and feel the orgasm approaching “I'm so close, Din, so fucking close. Please, don’t stop."
"Come, officer. Keep riding my cock and come on it. I want to hear you scream my name." 
"Oh, Din!" you scream his name as the overwhelming force of the orgasm washes over you, a white blaze of bliss making you lose control, uncontrollably spasming and sensually moaning as he doesn't stop giving it to you, groaning in pleasure when he feels how tight and wet you get around him when you come on his dick.
"That's it. That's my good girl." he grunts as he lets you ride your orgasm.
His rhythm slows down as you come back from your high, his hands still firmly on your hips, guiding you, making you slowly grind your pussy against his cock, the cockpit full of your pants.
"Ready for round two, officer?"
He doesn’t even wait for your response, your mind still fogged by the astonishing orgasm he just gave you.
He gets up from the chair and in a second he turns you around, your body slammed against the control panel and the windshield, your wrists held up high by his hand. Your legs are shaking and you can't really seem to stand on your feet properly.
You couldn't possibly be ready for him slamming his dick inside of you all at once, so hard that air leaves your lungs in an exhale. You'd curse at him, but you can't articulate words as he is fucking you so violently, his strong hand on your hip keeping you still. If you thought he was fucking you hard earlier, it's nothing compared to now - feeling all the power of his body giving it to you wild and raw is pleasurably devastating. You couldn't possibly have imagined that what he gave you earlier was merely foreplay for him, just a little tease before making sure you knew who is really in charge and how hard he can fuck you. He was just letting you have a small taste of what would happen after, wanting you to get ready for him, nice and wet and stretched open for his thick cock to split you in half. He grabs a fistful of your hair and you feel his helmet close to your ear.
"What? You're out of breath already? I'm just getting started, officer." he slides it out almost completely and slams it back in so hard you roll your eyes in pleasure.
"Look at you. Loving this dick so much you're rolling your eyes. Gonna fuck you so hard, you'll learn how to fucking behave." 
You can't do anything besides taking his cock and letting out choked moans.
"Still regret being stuck here with me? Tell me. Do you still think I'm a coward?" he growls in between thrusts.
You can barely drawl a moan in response and he chuckles.
"Yeah, I don't think so. You can't even speak." he mocks you as he pounds into you harder and harder, devastating you, reducing you to a pathetic, moaning mess.
"Who knows if the snow storm has stopped and your partner is looking for you. What if he sees you getting fucked like this?"
You know it's wrong, but the thought turns you on so much that you clench around him, and he feels it.
"Oh, you'd like it? Officer, what do we have here? A little whore?" you hear his dark chuckle as he grips your throat with his hand, bringing you closer to him - the hot, naked skin of your back against his cold beskar armour as he never stops railing you. 
Getting called like that in other circumstances, by any other person in the galaxy, would have caused you to shoot them immediately, but now, oh, did that turn you on.
"You like being called that way, don't you? Whore." he whispers softly in your ear, and it drives you insane despite how much you're trying to hide it. He feels your body getting rigid, the vibrations of your throat choking a moan, the way you bite your lip trying not to let one sound out, and you can bet he's loving every second of it. 
His other hand starts to rub your clit and that's when you fucking lose it - your mouth opens wide and lets out a loud groan of pleasure.
"Tell me you're my whore and I'll give you the best orgasm of your life."
You hesitate - his request is so degrading, but you want it at the same time. He can sense your indecisiveness and stops drawing circles on your clit and starts going around it, carefully avoiding it.
"N-no. Don't stop. It's unfair!" you whimper.
"Say it."
You try to relieve the ache between your legs by bringing a hand there, but he is quick to stop you and block your wrist behind your back, immobilising you as if you were one of his bounties, getting you even more aroused, so much, in fact, that you let out another groan.
"Don't make me handcuff you." he growls sensually and you immediately picture him fighting criminals every day, used to manhandling thugs and being a badass and you get even more aroused at the thought, and decide to give him whatever he wants.
You mumble those words, barely audible, ashamed but at the same time yielding, desperately and pathetically wanting him to give you what you so achingly crave, in a way that only he can provide. A need that you never even realised existed before he brought you into the highest dimension of pleasure.
"What? I didn't hear you."
"I am your whore." you whisper, annihilated.
"Good girl. Say it again. Louder this time."
"I am your whore, Din! Please, please make me come like this!" you surrender to him completely, defeated by your very body refusing to let this slip away.
"That's my girl. You asked so nicely, I'm gonna give it to you." you hear the satisfaction in his voice as he immediately starts to rub your clit again, driving you close to the edge in no time, your cunt getting tighter in anticipation.
“Shit, I want to come inside of you. I'm so fucking close, officer. You’re gonna patrol the outer rim, flying your Starfighter while my cum drips down your beautiful cunt. You’re gonna feel that and you will think of me the entire time.” he rasps in your ear as you feel his body pushing you further into the transparisteel and then over the edge, making you come screaming his name once again rolling your eyes over your lids, desperately begging him to come inside of you.
His groans get louder and louder as he comes. You feel his is cock pulsing and twitching, thrusting into you, wanting to go as deep as it can go, filling you with his hot release as you clamp erratically around him.
Both of your bodies are spent as you come back from your high, the sound of your laboured breathing fills the cockpit.
"Hey" he pants "keep it inside now. I don't want to see a single drop going to waste. Are we clear?"
You nod and he slips out of you slowly as you obey his order, keeping his release inside of you as you get dressed, feeling it drip between your legs as he walks you back to your ship.
Carson is already there - he has fixed the minor damages your X-wing had sustained when you crashed in the snow, confident in the fact that you found shelter somewhere and that you’re safe and will be back soon.
What he did not expect is for you to show up with the Mandalorian by your side, though.
"Can I have a few words with you?" he asks with a raised brow.
You nod and walk a few steps away from Din, going behind your ship to have some privacy.
"He saved my life." you regretfully admit before he even has a chance to speak, expecting a scolding.
"Listen. I run the tabs on the Razor Crest. It seems like your new friend has an arrest warrant on him for the abduction of a prisoner." he pauses briefly and lets out a sigh "But he has also captured three wanted culprits and tried to save the Lieutenant's life."
"I'd say we let him go this time. I really don't want to file a report about what happened. I hate doing that."
"Is that so?" he asks sarcastically.
"These are trying times, come on."
Carson raises his brow once again, looking at you and then at the armoured menace standing a few steps away from him.
“Fine.” he shrugs, not wanting to dig deeper with regards to your change of mind towards the Mandalorian, then gets back to his ship.
You jump in your X-wing, but before closing the hatch and taking off, you address Din one more time.
"We're even now, Din Djarin. See you next time, and don't get caught."
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wrathkitty · 4 days ago
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Short Debts Make Long Friends - Chapter 23 snippet (T-minus three days...)
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“Why’s he such a grouch, anyway?” you demand, pointing to the Darksaber hanging from his hip. “Doesn’t that thing basically mean you’re in charge?” 
Din peers back at you, leery. He’s never mentioned the weapon’s significance to you before. How did you come by this information?
“It is written that whoever wields the Darksaber has sole claim to the throne of Mandalore,” he cautiously replies, choosing his words with care. 
Your eyebrows shoot straight to your hairline. 
“So you’re king.”
He sighs. 
“Of a whole entire planet.” A wicked smile is beginning to cross your face. 
Alarmed, Din starts wracking his mind for an explanation that will not incur endless teasing, or at least minimize the likelihood of you curtseying each time he enters a room. Inspiration is not forthcoming.
“Technically,” he finally acknowledges. 
“Oh my God,” you breathe. 
“What?” he asks warily. The gleam that has entered your eyes spells nothing but trouble.
You bolt for the door, but not so fast that he isn’t able to hook you around the waist before you make it very far. 
“Where are you going?” he hisses, dragging you back in. 
“To go tell that can of incel noodle soup that he’s being voted off the island,” you answer gleefully as he sets you back on your feet. You turn around, wearing a grin that can only be described as manic. “You just made me the motherfucking princess.”
* SEE YOU GUYS NOVEMBER 1st! 👻 *
Link to main fic: Short Debts Make Long Friends - An over-educated, underpaid millennial finally gets to go on her first adventure.
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