#and din djarin the type to listen to white noise

[moncuries]

luke skywalker the type of bitch to enjoy ASMR

[juletheghoul]

Common Courtesies

I've been thinking about monster versions of the Pedro boys ever since I wrote this horny fever dream - and thanks to this ask from @sweetangel0069 I am back on my bullshit. I imagine this as sort of a Mr. Darcy, regency period type of thing only Demon Din is a feminist icon because that's what we do here.

Enjoy some Demon!Din.

Pairing: Demon!Din x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) **pussy-eating** language, age-gap (legal, reader is of age) dirty talk, supernatural elements, sexist society, sexist comments from readers father

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist ask prompt

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

The moon was full and bright, it drew your eye as you finished the small glass of water in the silent kitchen.

The manor was blessedly quiet at this hour and you took advantage of it. Everyone was asleep and it felt as though you could steal a few blessed moments of peace. No mother hovering and nagging about your lack of a suitor. No sisters gossiping or bickering - no overbearing father to deal with and just like you’d been doing since adolescence, you dallied.

You wandered through your empty halls, wondering if your guest was sleeping comfortably in the rooms your father had provided him. Whether the bed was to his liking, if he had enjoyed the view before succumbing to sleep.

You thought about him a great deal.

There was something about him, something… different.

He was polite, exceedingly so. He was attentive, listening with genuine interest to what you and your sisters had to say. Most of the men your father invited into your home had courtesy to be sure but it was different. Whereas they listened, with a stiff upper lip and forced smile - he engaged. He cared about what you had to say.

Your mother had been wary at first. A handsome man of his age, unmarried and unattached - there had to be something wrong but much like everyone he encountered in your presence - he won her over.

Now she was determined to marry him off to one of you, it didn’t seem to matter which one and she wasn’t shy about presenting each of you to him in such a manner. He dodged her advances on your part gracefully.

“Oh I would make a terrible husband, believe me.”

A creak just inside the drawing room froze you in place for a moment and it was difficult to pick up any new sounds through the booming in your ears. A few breaths to steady your nerves was all the preparation you gave yourself before creeping over to take a peek inside. What you’d do if it was someone with ill-intentions, you hadn’t decided.

With baited breath and clammy palms you chanced a glance, doing everything in your power to make as little noise as possible.

It was your guest. Mr. Din Djarin, sitting comfortably in your fathers chair -facing the moonlight. You frowned.

What are you doing awake?

You knew it was him, but the longer you looked - the less it looked like him. He seemed much taller, the chair looked almost small with him occupying it. He turned towards where your head was poked around the open door and it took everything in you not to gasp.

This couldn’t be the man you knew? His eyes were black jewels, his fingers were long, with nails that you knew would be like razors. His teeth glinted and they were too white, too sharp. The horns were another matter completely and for a moment you felt like a fly trapped in honey. You held your breath as he scanned the room, hoping he didn’t see you. How you managed to silently step away you’d never know.

The vision of him, of the transformation he’d gone through played through your mind endlessly. Until exhaustion finally claimed you.

-

It was hard not to yawn the next day. Hard not to conjure up the image of him, of what you’d seen when he sat at your table. When he smiled politely at catching you staring.

He looked ordinary now, back to the visage you’d been accustomed to and too late you realized what the topic of conversation had been.

“Surely you must be looking to marry Mr. Djarin? Don’t you want children to carry your name? Any one of my daughters would make a fine wife I assure you.” You perked up despite the embarrassment, curious as to his answer.

“I wouldn’t want to inflict any of your lovely daughters with me. Believe me - they are better off but you are kind to think me worthy.” He held her hand in his, mollifying. Charming.

“How old are you Mr. Djarin?-” You saw the scandal on your mother’s face at your impolite outburst, a lady doesn’t ask that. “-I’m sorry to be impolite - I was merely curious.” You tried to look braver than you felt and he smiled, a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

“I’m older than you think.” He winked, enigmatic.

“My apologies for my daughter’s rudeness.” She spoke to him, but her eyes were focused on you.

“Think nothing of it, ladies should be able to ask what they please. We are well aware that men do so without impunity.” Your father tutted at his response, obviously unhappy at the comparison. He raised his eyebrows slightly at your father. “You disagree?” It was asked offhand but there was an undercurrent of confusion.

“Well, there is a place for everything, and women should be aware of theirs - just as men should.” He drank the tea as he spoke, imperious. “There are times when women should be seen and not heard.” It wasn’t said maliciously, despite the implications. Your father’s view was frustrating - but sadly common within the social circles your family ran in.

“I wholeheartedly disagree.” His eyes were a rich brown, nothing like the inky black you thought you’d seen the night before. “It seems to me that men have inflated their importance to a laughable degree, it’s not up to them to dictate what place women should take up within society. Everything would be a great deal better if everyone was equal.” Your mothers mouth hung open, your father looked almost angry. If it hadn’t been for the vision that was dominating your thoughts you might have been dumbstruck also.

“I suggest we change the topic of conversation Mr. Djarin.” Your father warned and Din smiled contentedly, unbothered and unafraid. His gaze kept returning to you though, kept catching you staring, wide eyed with trembling hands.

You couldn’t help yourself, your eyes lingered on his fingers, on the seemingly hornless forehead; his mouth.

“Are you well?” He dipped his head, pulling your eyes down from their focus.

“I-yes, yes. I am quite well thank you.” You kept eye-contact with him despite the pounding of your heart, the exchange lasting a few seconds, or possibly a few hours before your sister broke the tension.

“Will you be in town for long Mr. Djarin?” Her soft voice pulled his eyes away and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in.

“I never linger too long, I haunt for a time, and then I move on.” He smiled warmly at her, he never went into detail - never gave more than he had to. You were determined to find out who, or what- he really was.

-

The hours ticked by in uneasy silence. The normal sounds of everyone winding down and making their way to their beds found you sitting on the edge of yours, waiting for the right time to go looking for - what? A monster?

This is insane, am I really expecting to find a creature masquerading as a handsome bachelor?

A heavy footstep down the hall snapped you out of your circling, doubtful thoughts - the servants made almost no noise. It was usually easy to tell who was walking around but you were sure you’d never heard anything like this before, whatever it was it sounded massive. It hardened your resolve and with fear prickling at your skin - you ventured out of the safety of your room.

Your footsteps were light, as light as you could make them - the skirts of your nightdress and dressing gown were clutched within your iron grip as you made your way towards the drawing room. A few steadying breaths was all you gave yourself before you peeked inside.

Again you found him, sitting in your fathers chair - staring up at the night sky through the window.

“So you did see me.” His voice was deeper, richer - full of something. “..and still you came to investigate.” He turned towards your place at the door, his head a slow swivel that was synchronized with a bead of icy sweat skating down your spine. His eyes, two bright flames in a sea of black. “You must be very brave, or very foolish.” It was said without cruelty. “We mustn't linger in doorways, come in.”

It both shocked, and annoyed you that he would invite you into a room within your own home, that alone moved your legs towards him.

“Are you going to hurt me?” You stood just inside, hands fisted at your sides to hide the tremble in them.

“Why would I hurt you?” His head tilted. “I have no reason to, here - I think you would be more comfortable if I were to present myself how you’re accustomed to seeing me.” He scrunched up his face in obvious discomfort, slowly shrinking down.

“Wait-” The words bubbled out of your mouth almost without thought. “I would like to see you.” You couldn’t help but fidget under his eye. “Please…”

“As you wish.” Within a moment he was ‘himself’, the look of relief on his face wasn’t lost on you.

“Does it hurt?” It was your turn to tilt your head.

“It is uncomfortable to make myself small for such long periods, come- sit.” He gestured to the chaise in front of him and despite your momentary hesitation, you did as he asked.

He let you take stock of him, let you stare at your leisure. He was content to soak in the moonlight while the gears in your brain ran and ran. Eventually though, you felt impolite.

“I’m sorry to stare, I am at a loss for words.” Your voice seemed loud in the peaceful silence of the room. “Would it be rude to ask what you are?” You brought your knees up, wrapping your arms around them as best you could.

“No, I don’t think you’d know even if I told you. You can think of me as an incubus if you like.” He smiled at the shocked look on your face. His teeth were sharp, bone white but oddly attractive. “I am not a danger to you.”

“Incubus.” The word was strange in your mouth. “You don’t look or act like what I’ve read about.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not here to haunt anyones dreams or rape sleeping women. I merely feed off sexual energy.” He raised his eyebrows, amused by the novelty of speaking frankly if you had to wager a guess. “I do so with a willing partner but lately, it’s been harder than you’d think. People have turned into such prudes.” This surprised you.

“How so?” Your eyes ate him up greedily, never focusing on one thing.

“The concept of purity and virginity, saving yourselves for marriage. Nonsense.” He scoffed and it took you aback.

“Why is it nonsense?” Not all of the girls you knew growing up saved themselves - but there was a very clear difference between who did and who didn’t. Most of all in their prospects and how society treated them. “Why is virginity nonsense?” You couldn’t help but press.

“That a human man would believe that being the first one to have sex with a woman would somehow fundamentaly change her is the very height of avaris. The very audacity for men to think that highly of themselves is ridiculous.” Dark waves of anger blurred the edges of him and it thrilled you slightly, despite the hairs raising on the back of your neck.

“Are you not a man though..?” You didn’t understand - he looked vaguely man-shaped, he sounded like a man, was he built like a man? Your skin heated to imagine it.

“No, I am not. Men resemble me.” It occurred to you then, how old he must be.

“You mean to say men are made to look like you?”

“Well, I was here first.” He said it offhand and the absurdity of it almost didn’t fit within your mind.

“How old are you Mr. Djarin?” It was almost funny to call him that.

“...Old…”

“How long have you been around?” You tried a different tactic, but he smiled.

“I have always been around.” He looked back up towards the sky, his throat bobbed and you suddenly imagined yourself running your tongue up the long column of it. Your nipples pebbled in your shirt, your thighs clenched together. “It’s normal. You’ve been around me in my natural state. I would have an effect on your biology - feel free to run along to bed. I will stay a while longer.” You didn’t want to leave him.

“Why do you watch the moon?” You ignored his dismissal, craving his presence for as long as he allowed it.

“This is my time, this is when I feel the best - when I don’t have to hide.” You could see the pale, almost full moon in his eyes.

“Let us take a walk then.” You rose tentatively, hand nervously outstretched towards him, hoping that he’d take it. He stared in confusion before smiling a wide sharp smile, and engulfing your small hand, with his large, clawed one.

-

He towered over you, forcing you to crane your neck to meet his gaze as you walked through the grass outside your home. It was a cool night, lovely and fresh compared to the heat of the day. Soft breezes ruffled the fabric around your legs and his hair around his horns.

You were content to follow him quietly, to enjoy the serenity of the night, crickets chirped nearby; a brook bubbling just down the hill.

“It feels nice to be myself.” His voice was soft, carrying on the wind.

“It must be awful to hide most of the time.” You stopped within a little copse of trees that hid you both should someone glance out a window.

“Mostly It's fine, but after a while- it’s not pleasant.” He stretched out on the soft grass, long and lean, both natural and completely at odds. You couldn’t help but stare at him, his skin was golden and almost luminescent, darkening around the horns and darker still when it reached his hands. Your body was responding to his presence, blooming for him. “You smell wonderful.” He smiled to himself. Caught.

“I do?” You inched closer, your knee brushed against his ribs.

“Oh yes, you smell like honey.” His eyes were closed but his face turned towards you slightly. “You’re dripping.” Your eyes widened, an ache was steadily building between your thighs, begging for relief. You said nothing, instead you watched him, your body bringing you closer and closer until your legs were pressed up against him. “What are you thinking?” He turned to watch you then, a small smile on his lips.

You gulped, sweat beading along your hairline as you licked your lips. Your heart raced as you imagined him kissing you, would his teeth prick at your lips? Did you care? Not even a little bit.

“I am thinking wanton thoughts, things I’ve only ever thought about within the confines of my bedroom.” It both shamed and thrilled you to say these things aloud.

“Would you like me to accompany you back inside? You can go to sleep and forget you ever saw me this way.” A way out, a reprieve from the want and the craving for him, this is what he offered.

“No. I’d like to stay out here with you.” It came out less sensual than you’d hoped it would and now that you’d said it- you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.

“Would you like me to touch you?” It sent a thrill through you, to possibly know what his hands would feel like on you.

“Yes- but please, be gentle with me.” Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and in your cunt, all of it calling to him and when he rose your stomach fluttered.

Wordlessly he lay you down on the downy grass, his hands much gentler than they appeared. With a soft touch he lifted the skirts up, grazing the skin of your thighs on his path towards the juncture of your thighs. He didn’t reach it though, instead he ran his hands along your skin, up towards your hip.

“Can I touch you?” You’d raised your hand towards his face, but stopped just short. He pressed his cheek into your outstretched palm, nuzzling into it like a touch starved cat. You traced the lines of his face, the pad of your thumb smoothing his brow before threading through the soft brown waves of his hair. He smiled before curling those long fingers around the waistband of your undergarments, letting you lift your hips to help pull them down.

Your breathing sped up when he pressed his face against your sternum, careful not to hurt you with his horns. The nightdress was paper thin, letting you feel his breath against your skin. He found the pebbled peaks of your breasts poking through the fabric, a small gasp escaped when he bit at one softly. The sensation shot straight to your cunt, the ache intensified, your legs rubbing together to alleviate it but he just made it worse. A whine from your throat made him smile as he moved to the other side.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it all better.” The smile widened when you saw his tongue was forked, your eyes big as saucers. “You’ll enjoy it, believe me - I can smell how wet you are and I’ll make your little pussy come so hard. I’ll make it good.” His tongue swirled around the bud through the fabric, soaking it before biting gently.

His words lit a fire within your belly, they ramped the arousal further still and soon you were writhing in the grass like some animal. He tsked softly, his hands mapping the path down towards where you wanted him most. His lips pressed against the soft skin of your thighs, of your fluttering belly.

The considerable breadth of his shoulders had your legs spread wide and being so open made you unsure of yourself. No one had ever seen this part of you, no one had ever been this intimate with you before and before you could say anything he was lifting his head.

“You are divine. So lovely and I am ravenous for you.” He ducked his head to kiss your mound. “Can I taste you?” His hand rubbed from the top of your knee, down towards your dripping folds.

“Yes - please.” Your voice was a breathy whisper, unrecognizable. He smiled before diving in.

His tongue dipping to the source of your slick, circling the rim of your opening before gliding back up. It was a strange but intensely pleasant sensation, completely different from your fingers. You shuddered to feel the two sides of his tongue surround the pearl of your pleasure, you felt him groan into your skin.

“Oh my darling, I could eat your gorgeous little cunt for centuries.” He spoke almost reverently before kissing you where his tongue had just been, open-mouthed and passionate. The pleasure was unlike anything you’d ever felt in your life. It rendered you speechless, reduced you to a puddle of arousal there on the lawn of your home.

Your body climbed higher and higher, waves of arousal radiating out from where his tongue flicked against you - out towards the tips of your fingers and toes and when he pulled you closer, when he flicked faster - it exploded. Your legs strained against his iron grip but he held you open, held you vulnerable for his mouth.

“That’s it, you took that so well.” He smiled - kissing your mound while you caught your breath.

“That was - that was really good.” The words seemed tawdry and inconsequential compared to the pleasure he’d just given you. “Your skin…” You hadn’t noticed but he seemed brighter, somehow lovelier than before.

“You’ve fed me well my darling.” He continued kissing you as he spoke. “I want more though, I’m not done with you yet.” He dipped low again, collecting the slick that drooled out of you with a groan. Your hands grabbed at his horns before remembering yourself - unsure if that was rude.

“I’m sorry-” He growled into your skin before you finished your sentence, putting your hands back onto them.

“Guide me.” He moaned out the words, relishing the way you gripped him; the way you ground your hips into his mouth.

It felt like he ate your cunt for hours.

He pulled climax after climax out of you. Some of them quick - others slow and torturous and by the fifth or sixth you couldn’t take anymore.

“Please- please Din, no more,” You pushed at his face weakly, your body was a raw nerve. Your pussy was puffy and over sensitive, reluctantly he pulled away.

“I was being serious-“ He nuzzled against the little patch of curls on your mound, the skirts of your dress moving with the push of his face into your skin. “-I could just keep eating you. Just want to bury my tongue in this perfect little cunt forever.” His tongue flicked against your clit once more before helping you dress.

You half expected him to have his way with you, to bury himself inside you right there on the lawn but he didn’t. Instead he led you back inside on shaky legs, his form adjusting down to human size.

When you finally made it to your bed, you fell asleep almost instantly, and dreamt about the moon.

--

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[auty-ren]

Salvation

Prologue

Pairings: The Mandalorian x Reader. Din Djarin x Reader. Mand’alor!Mando x Reader.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Canon-type violence. Mentions of death/injury. Canon divergency. Yearning. Panic and similar themes. The teensiest bit of steamy stuff.

A/N: We’re just getting started babes and holy shit I'm so excited for Mand'alor!Mando. We get to see the best of both worlds! Clan Leader Mando + Dark!Mando. Enjoy💗

Salvation Masterlist | My Masterlist

There was a vice that kept hold of your being, suspended between two planes of existence as you sat helpless to watch time pass at an agonizing pace. It filled you with dread, a heavy and pulling weight that settled in your stomach and had you glued to the floor; praying that the next thrum of violence that waged outside your door would be softer.

You hoped and pleaded every second you sat cowering in your home wouldn't be in vain, that something good would come of the war that had been building in weeks prior. The violence that crept over your village somewhat overnight, an uneasiness that settled between neighbors, and had people barricading their doors with fear.

You squeezed your palms tighter over your ears at the shrill sound of gunfire piercing through the walls of your home. The ground felt alive with footfalls and the impact fire, defeating sounds muffled between layers of durasteel were all you could hear, save for a few lost words that winded aimlessly through the air.

From your window you made out a figure that streamed across the sky; their form bulky and unnatural around the faint release of a jetpack that followed behind them.

Mandalorians had been passing through your village for as long as you could remember. Quiet and brooding warriors who often demanded very little and hardly left a trace that they had ever stepped foot in your town. You felt nothing but respect, considering that all your life you had seen the kindness that had been disguised behind layers of beskar and tall-tales of savage upbringings. As a child, you remember them speaking so softly to you, something that clashed with their demeanor and the heavy blasters that often rested on their hips.

There was never trouble, any thug that had made their way into your village was soon left scrambling at the sight of your guardians. No one ever dared to speak a harsh word in their presence, and your people were left with safe and warm homes that prospered when it felt the Galaxy was falling apart.

Mandalorians had protected you all of your life. But now you wanted more than anything for them to disappear, to fade away like the final wisps of smoke from dying embers. 

You just wanted the noise to stop.

Your eyes had dried beyond the point of tears, streaks of their remnants covered your face and left your skin feeling raw and tacky as your eyes squeezed shut. You heaved a dry sob as the walls of your home shook again, tremors vibrating at the ends of your fingertips as they scraped across the floor. Your joints ache from sitting so long, from trembling in the corner of your home as the only way to seek shelter.

There is a heavy thump that breaks through the noise, something solid that lands over your head. You can hear the unmistakable sound of footfalls as they walk across your ceiling, each step like a knife that twists deeper and deeper into an already gushing wound. Your grasp for anything you can reach, the leg of the table next to you, a book that had fallen from your desk, anything to ward off whatever was making its way to your front door. You felt pathetic, sure that whoever would burst into your home in the next seconds would find joy in the way your hands shook as you held them up in front of you, your only defense.

The weight that you had been holding in your shoulders came crashing down at the sound of a masked voice coming from your door. The shadow of their legs briefly visible through the gap in the door as lights flashed behind them, gunfire ringing through the small room as they barked a message about ‘Imps’ into their commlink.

‘Imperials’ they called themselves, led by the magistrate elect to ‘relieve our town from the clutches of oppressive rulers,’ or so they put it. Suddenly your town was full of strangers, of mercenaries with nasty tendencies that left you hesitant to leave your doorstep. Your home was turned into a hellhole in a matter of weeks, warm and kind faces were replaced with snarling teeth that spit evil in your direction every time you faced them. 

‘All in the name of progress.’

Destruction was the only thing that progressed in these short months, and Moff Gideon had no trouble thriving off every ounce of sacrifice he could squeeze from your town. Gideon had used any and all authority he had to wage war on the Mandalorians, the people you considered your protectors. You and nearly half of the village knew he was crazy for doing such a thing, for provoking the wrath of a people who had carved legends of war and battle into every corner of the Galaxy. All of this suffering because he was too greedy for something that was never his.

Your limbs were heavy by the time sunlight peered over the horizon, brief wisps of warmth dancing across your eyelids as you blinked awake from where you sat.

There was nothing but silence, heavy silence that was damning after a night of constant chaos. Early morning fog still lingered, your breath puffing in front of your face as you pulled yourself to stand. Your door was ripped open before you could even think, your only thought wanting to be able to witness whatever had been left in last night's wake.

The ground was firm and solid beneath your feet, your legs shaking as you stepped off the porch of your home and for the first time in forever everything was still. There was nothing but the faint shuffle of your feet across the ground, and the muffled conversations in the homes you passed by. It seemed you weren’t the only one who was curious; familar faces grew in number, their eyes wide and interested in the wreckage just as you were, everyone you met wondered what would become next. Some of them wept, holding whoever was closest as relief washed over them. Some of them celebrated, cheers echoing through streets as they basked in the absence of Imperials in their homes.

You stood, staring down an alley where the body of an Imperial laid unmoving in the dirt, their white armor smudged, cracking, and littering the wet ground. The reality of what had been happening only a few hours prior laid heavy on your chest, curling tight around your ribs until you felt there was no way to take a breath.

Your hands were shaking as you reached for your face, covering your lip as it trembled from swelling emotion and finally breaking away from the scene before you. You backtracked, fully intent on turning to run back the way you had come when you bumped into someone; their arm came up to grab yours, steadying you as their questions fell upon deaf ears. You stared at the woman before you, the brows knit in concern as she repeated her question.

“Are you alright?”

Everything was starting to bleed together, the sounds of people emerging from their homes suddenly became far too loud, and your awareness of where you stood punching you in the gut. You winced away from the woman, pulling your arm from her grip and ignoring how she called after you. Your lungs swelled with each heaving breath you took, the ground beneath you disappearing faster and faster as you tried to find your way home. Neighboring villagers found their ways into the streets, crowding alleyways and blocking your way home. You ran into a few of them, whispered apologies falling from your lips as you fought to hold yourself upright.

You needed to take a breath. You needed to slow down.

There was no distinction between the voice in your head and the concerned words of people you passed; friends, neighbors, all people you had known for most of your life.

They just want to help and part of you doesn't understand why you don't listen to them.

The ache that tears through your skull sends waves of nausea down your spine, your eyes blinking slowly at the dirt that sat just a few inches from your face. Your breath disturbed it, puffs of clay-colored soil swirling in front of you, and some of it landing on your cheeks.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbow, your entire side sore from how hard you had hit the ground. It was slow, your limbs feeling heavy and weighed even with adrenaline buzzing underneath your skin.

There was hardly any noise now, just a few whispers that danced between the crowds; the tail ends of sentences being lost as they shush themselves. You hear the scuffle of boots hitting the ground, their gate heavy and kicking up dirt in your peripheral. The dark-colored toe of someone's boot walks into your line of sight, you watch the leather come to a stop just a few inches from where your hand pressed into the mud. You followed the boot up the length of its owner’s body until you were met with the bulky visor of a beskar helmet, embers of the morning sun peeking out from behind the silver shine. 

He offers his hand out to you, the ends of his gloves a bright orange that was weathered at the tips. The leather was worn but soft to the touch as his hand wrapped around yours, pulling you to your feet with just a little bit more force than necessary. Your hand shot out to brace yourself against his chest, your weight falling against the solid expanse of his cuirass as you huffed out a curse. Your head was still spinning as you clung to him, trying to find balance on your own two feet as you looked at the stranger. His armor looked new, bright, and unsoiled save for the dirt that smudged from where you had touched it; your eyes are drawn to the obnoxious color offset by the dark linen of his clothes. You mutter an apology, moving to separate yourself from him but find yourself trapped under the arm he used to steady you.

From the corner of your eye, you can see the other Mandos who are waiting on him. Their armors a deep matching blue with white accents on the face of their masks, they stood at attention as if they were waiting on their next command. You looked back at the man in front of you, who you assumed was their leader, your hand still laying on his chest and your faces even closer than they had been before.

His hand hesitated just a breath away from your face, his fingers twitching before he pushed strands of your hair out of your eyes, the leather of his glove tickling the shell of your ear. The knuckles of his fingers traced down your jaw, his touch light and curious as he studied you. His thumb stopped at the apex of your cheek and he drags the pad of it across the same spot of skin a few times, brushing off the dirt that had stuck to your face.

You could hardly breathe under his attention, your lungs burning from how long you waited in between small intakes of breath. His hand was still warm against your face, his other fingers flexing on the hold he kept around your waist. Every second dragged on as you looked at him, studied what little you could see from the layers he wore around his being. Oddly enough, it felt that he was doing the same to you, his gaze felt like a burn as it trailed along with your features, your chest feeling tight and your cheeks hot from how overwhelmed he made you.

And then he was gone.

His hold on you released and he turned back in the direction he had been walking, followed by the Mandos who had stopped and waited for him. They parted the crowds that had formed in the streets, their presence enough to leave anyone in standing back, awestruck just as you had been. You watched their forms disappear from your sight until finally they turned a corner, and you never saw them again.

-

It feels impossible to sleep that night.

Though it had only been a few months, the soured pit in your stomach was telling that memories of Imperials wouldn't fade so easily. There wasn't enough water to wash away the stain that their greed had left behind. Everyone seemed happy, smiling freely and feasting in celebration as the day turned to dusk, and as dusk turned to night you sat, staring at the ceiling of your home and buzzing with something you couldn't quite pin down. You studied the crack that had split that ran from one corner of your home to the next, fresh and taunting you with how you had been cowering beneath this roof only a day ago; watching the stone give way as the very foundation of your house shook. Just outside you could hear voices again; quiet, content voices that felt unfamiliar, almost out of place amongst the chaos that had been living recently.

How could it be over so quickly?

It only took a day, not even that. Your village was wiped clean, the only evidence that there had even been Imperials, were scraps that had been piled together throughout the streets. Pieces of equipment, armor, a couple of uniforms that had been discarded were all that was left of them. And most of it was being discarded without a second thought. 

You had always heard stories of what Mandalorians could be capable of, but you had never believed them.

People liked to talk, to tell stories. It was easy to believe the tales of warrior races were just constructed, exaggerations of the true history of their people. But you were wrong. You hoped that you stayed wrong, that this wasn't temporary or even worse, a dream.

With every night that passed, it became easier, sleeping without worry you would wake up in hell all over again. It came over you slowly. Ease? Relief? Tranquility long enough for you to rest a few hours, then wake up to rebuild the life that had almost been taken from you. It finally felt safe. Safe to live, safe to breathe, safe to dream again.

But then all at once, it was swept out from under you and your heart plummeted when you answered the door to find two guards standing on your front steps.

“Can I help you?”

You noticed the way he ducked his head, his helmet cock-eyed when he looked at you to keep it from knocking with the frame of your doorway. He spoke very softly, almost gentle in the way he said your name; a stark contrast to the beaten, dull blue armor he wore and the heavy blaster strapped to his back. You looked over his shoulder at the female that followed him, her back was turned to you as she scanned the street in front of your home. She wasn’t as large as he was, but her armor was just as thick and a beautiful maroon color that glinted in the sun when she turned to face you.

They both waited for you to answer, turning to look at each other when you gave them a small nod, confirming that they had found who they were looking for.

“The Mand’alor has sent us for you.” The woman spoke, her tone clipped as she took a step closer. “Please. Come with us.”

Your fingernails dug into the softwood of the door frame, your skin burning from the way it dragged across the rough terrain until you released it, balling your fist at your side. You made no other attempt at moving, and neither did they. 

There would be no point in arguing, you would never be able to outrun two Mandalorians, but it felt very tempting at that moment.

“The….Mand’alor?”

You had heard the name before, a few of the Mandalorians in town had spoken it in passing and while you had never asked them who or what it meant, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

They had asked for you by name, and they were too occupied to come and find you themselves. 

You tried to wrack your brain for anything you could’ve done to cause this, of what could have upset someone to this point.

But then again, if they were upset, they probably would’ve just had you killed.

You looked behind you at the mess that was strewn across your room, crates of your belongings dumped in the tiny space and making it much smaller than it seemed. There was no telling where you were going, or how long you’d be gone but maybe you could take a few things with you.

“Can I have a minute please?”

You moved to shut the door, just wanting a little privacy to get a bag ready, but you were stopped when the female guard’s arm shot out, holding the frame still just a few inches before it would’ve closed.

“You don't need to take anything.” She huffed and pushed the door back open, stepping through the threshold to stand directly in front of you. “Come with us.”

You couldn't think of anything to say, not that she wanted a response from you, you just stood there staring at the two Mandalorians who crowded your doorway. She practically snarled an order at you, becoming increasingly impatient with how unresponsive you were.

“Now.”

-

Sometime later

“I-... I don't understand.”

He had you pinned, backed into a wall that you wished would open up and swallow you whole. Your face burned with shame but you couldn't figure out from what. From him? From how close he stood to you? From how every word that dripped from his lips was sweet? Like thick, sugary honey that became far more addictive than any spice you ever heard of; and you were glutenous in wanting more of those delicious words that he seemed so confident saying.

Shamefully so.

“Don't worry about such things.”

His thumb ran delicately over the bottom of your lip, tracing down until he held your chin in between it and his forefinger. He tipped your face to look up at him, his knuckles brushing across your throat as his hand fell to your chest. His fingers splayed across your exposed skin, his gloves are warm and soft as they made their way back up and finally wrapped around your neck.

“You're here now.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers flexed, his grip almost ghosting, as if he was afraid you'd break under any pressure.

You wished you could see his face, the blank stare of his visor did not indicate what he was thinking; though you imagined he was enjoying this from the way he touched you. He was like molten that left your skin burning in its wake, your heart fluttering as he moved over every inch that was shown to him. He held your jaw in the palm of his hand, his helmet coming only a hairbreadth away from your face; your breath puffing clouds of condensation on the smooth surface.

“You're mine.”

-

A/n pt2: I’ll give a sticker to whoever can guess who the female guard Mando was lol

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