#and the mandos look pathetic actually

[merrysithmas]

GOD THAT EPISODE was UTTERLY awful

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter nine : shuk'la rules (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.6k

summary : you spend some time in the library with the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, p in v sex, fingering, sort of a glove kink situation that is not verbally expressed but is def there, slapping, def like dom/sub vibes but also not spoken on, sort of a dumbification situation, degradation and also praise

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

You need sex.

Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. 

Instead of taming the beast it’s like he let it out of its cage and now it’s running rampant. 

But you had to have your stupid rules.

Maybe you could just get rid of the second one. 

You pick up the book, flipping to the back cover, staring at those damned words.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

What an idiot, in your stupid quest to make sure things stayed casual you were somehow denying yourself casual sex. Maybe you could just fake stress, or start a fight with him. No, he’d see right through that. You’re in a genuinely good mood after yesterday, you’ve got no reason to start shit with him.

But you need sex. 

And he’s sooo good at it. Annoyingly so. 

And you can’t just ask for it, because he’ll tease you about it. (Which probably wouldn’t be all that bad now that you think of it.) But you need him, terribly. You’re lying here in your closet bed, doing everything in your power to will away the ache between your thighs because you don’t have the time to deal with it yourself, Elaine and Lysa will be here at any minute. So you stuff your face in a pillow, and let yourself have a good long groan as you hear your bedroom doors open outside the closet. 

The closet doors fly open and Elaine steps in, grinning down at you. 

“Good morning ma’am, is everything alright? You’re normally awake by now, you must have had a long day yesterday.” She’s raising an eyebrow as you groan again. Bringing another pillow up to smash against your face. 

“I’m fine. Just tired.” You mumble into the cushion. She reaches down to tear the pillow from your hands, picking you up under your arms and lifting you to your feet. “Maker, you’re strong…” 

“I have to be to take care of you ma’am. Now, up. Time to dress.” She steps out and you follow her to the mirror as Lysa goes to find you a dress. 

“Something green.” You yell over your shoulder, maybe he’ll fuck you if you wear another green dress. Gods, you hope so. 

Okay, pull yourself together. You can’t be acting like this around him, he’ll use it to his advantage and you can’t let him get the upper hand on you, not when you’re in this state. Who knows what you’ll do or say to get him to touch you. 

    You zone out as they go through the usual routine of dressing you, the jade dress hugging your torso making you smile, maybe this will work. Once you’re all done up you take Elaine’s hand in yours.

“Thank you… seriously, you’re a miracle worker. You and Lysa have taken such good care of me.” You give her a warm smile and you're taken aback by the way she squints at you before returning the smile. 

“Thank you ma’am.”

That’s all she says as she steps back, looking you over once before nodding and taking Lysa’s hand before leaving. 

Weird.

You put it aside in your mind though because when they open the door you catch a glint of silver. You need to think fast, how are you going to seduce him? Gods, you're pathetic. Whatever. Just get out there, maybe actually seeing him will make this easier, the moment he starts being a jackass you’ll be able to resist him.

✩

It doesn’t work. 

He’s nice today. Uncharacteristically so, it’s actually off-putting. He had greeted you with a compliment on your dress, had walked you to the library with no complaints, no teasing, and no resistance. And had so kindly handed you the book you’d left off on last time, he had even opened it to the page you’d left off on before he sat across from the nook and opened his own book. 

What’s his angle here? You’re having a hard time focusing on your reading because now you’ve got to figure out what he’s plotting. 

Stern, protective, annoying, persistent, nice? The Mandalorian is a lot of things but he isn’t necessarily nice. 

He isn’t cruel by any means but it’s off putting to have him acting like this. Sadly it doesn’t make him any less attractive to you at this moment because you’re still imagining all the different ways you could lure him back to your chambers. Your thoughts are interrupted by the low hum of static that always comes before he speaks. 

“You seem distracted.” When you look up the helmet is staring at you and his book is closed. Kriff. 

“Nothing, just a little…” 

Horny?

“Bored.” 

“Mmm. Want to play that game? Might help alleviate some of the boredom?” He sets his book aside as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You’re about to blow him off with some lame excuse so you can keep plotting on how to bed him but you’re struck with an idea. 

“Sure. What does the winner get?” 

“Is there anything in particular you want?” Predictable, you knew he wouldn’t pick one himself.

“Hmm… how about the winner gets to break one of the rules?” He leans back in the chair as he’s seemingly considering the offer.

“Which rule did you have in mind?” 

“None of the important ones, just the second one. The stress relief one. Winner gets to break it once, at a time of their choosing.” He doesn’t need to know that you plan on cashing it in immediately when you win.

“Sounds fair enough, same rules as last time? Pass three times and you lose?” There’s a much stronger hint of amusement in his voice this time around and suddenly you’re nervous he might actually try to win. “You can go first again if you’d like.” 

Might as well start with an almost guaranteed pass. 

“Last time we played you said you needed the credits from this job, why?” 

You sit and try to hold back a smug smile as you wait to hear his response but it never comes. He just sits there thinking. 

“And you can’t lie.” You eventually add, in case he was trying to come up with an answer. 

“I need a ship. I know someone on a different planet that I’d like to go see.” He says each word slowly and carefully like he’s trying to phrase it a certain way. It makes you furrow your brow. You don’t have time to ponder it for long though because he’s already moving on. “What did you buy from that woman yesterday?” Shit, you had wanted that to be a surprise for him. You could always just use a pass on this, you’d still have two more, you aren’t really all that private he’s just managed to pick out a very specific thing you don’t want to answer. 

“Pass. Did you eat the food I gave you?” You should probably be focusing on more hard hitting questions if you want to win but you are genuinely curious.

“Yes. I had half last night and half this morning.” He sounds almost sheepish when he says it, like he’s admitting defeat. You want to laugh but you’re worried if you do he won’t take food in the future. “Why do you wear those horrific dresses on the fifth day of each week?” 

Jerk. 

He is right though, they are horrific. And it’s a huge relief that he’s seemingly done putting on the creepy over the top polite act he had going on. 

“Blue is Kodo’s favorite color. They dress me in it on days where I see him.” He lets out a huff at your response. 

“That’s a stupid reason.” 

“Do you often take note of what colors I’m wearing?”

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I do. Especially when it’s green. Did you wear that for me?” He nods at the jade gown you’re currently wearing.

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.” You silently wish he was sitting closer. 

“Yes. Do you like it?” 

“Is that your question?” He sounds like he’s grinning. 

“No. I just want to know.” 

“...Yes.” He takes a moment to just stare at you and that stupid heat is back in the library. “What’s your actual question?”

“Has anyone seen your face before?” You probably shouldn’t ask, it seems way too personal for how the game has been going so far but you’re in this to win it. 

“Yes.” 

Huh. You hadn’t expected an answer. And you definitely hadn’t expected that answer. 

“What do you think I look like?” 

You hadn’t expected that question either. 

“It’s a little arrogant of you to assume I ever think about you in my spare time.”

Or all the time, constantly, and in your dreams. 

“So you’ve never thought about it?”

All the time, constantly, sometimes in your dreams. 

“I have.”

“Then what do you think I look like?” 

Of course you’d thought about it, it’s hard to not wonder what the best sex of your life looks like under his helmet. You didn’t want him to actually take it off of course, you understand how important it is to him but your mind is allowed to wander. And you can’t help but hope that he at least takes it off to use that stupid mouth of his at some point, even if you can’t look. 

“Well… I always assumed brunette, even before getting confirmation. I don’t know, sharp features? Clipped short hair, unruly facial hair? I can never figure out your eyes though, I just can’t picture them.” 

He sits on it for a moment. 

“They’re brown.” 

That suits him. He seems like he would have soft, warm eyes that could turn cold and deadly in an instant. 

“That doesn’t count as my question by the way.” You snap at him, trying to relieve the intimate tension that’s suddenly settled between you. 

“Of course not.”

“How many bounties have you caught?” 

“I don’t keep track.”

“That’s not an answer.” You huff at him as you roll your eyes. 

“Fine.” He takes a moment as he thinks about it before you hear the familiar crackle of the modulator. “All of them.” 

Okay he’s got to be doing that on purpose. That low voice where he acts all serious, you want to call him out for it but it goes straight to your pussy and if you say something somehow he’ll end up finding out so why bother. 

“What’s your favorite color?” He sounds so genuinely interested when he asks you things like this. It breaks your heart every time because no one else ever seemed to care so much.

“I don’t have one.”

“We’re really on a hot streak of not answering the questions princess.” He tilts his head to the side.

“It used to be blue. Now I don’t have one.”

His helmet straightens up and he’s silent for a beat. You have to pray he isn’t giving you a look of pity under there. 

“How about for now it’s green. We can share a favorite color until you get a new one.”

It’s hard to remember that you’re just friends when he says things like that.

You should say no. Say it’s purple now, or orange, or anything else. 

But green is growing on you. 

Why is this dumb game so much more serious this time around? 

“Why is your favorite color green?” Your voice has lost its teasing edge, only sincerity remains. 

He’s silent again. 

“I knew a kid a while back who liked green.”

There’s something new. 

You can’t place the tone he has now.

It’s almost… sad . It makes you want to stand up and walk over to him, take his helmet in your hands and tell him he’s okay. Only for a second though because of course he has to ask a question that completely pulls you from the moment. 

“When did you know you wanted me?”

Presumptuous. Either he really wants to change the subject or he really wants to win. 

He’s leaning forward again and it makes you want to slap the stupid helmet. You decide against it, you’d only end up hurting yourself in that situation. 

“I’m not sure.” You puff out your chest slightly as you say it. 

“So you pass?” 

“No.” Shit, okay, do you even know the answer? “Maybe… the last time we played the game? I’m not sure.” 

“Good enough for me.” It’s annoying how satisfied with himself he sounds. 

“Was I your first time?” You don’t know why you ask it, you’re almost certain you weren’t because he shouldn’t have been that good his first time. Maybe you just want to knock him down a peg. It makes him scoff.

“Was I not up to your standard?” 

“It’s not your turn.” You try to sound indifferent when you say it. 

“Is this really how you want to play this game princess? Because I can make this a lot harder on you if it is.” His voice somehow manages to get lower, Maker, he’s the worst.

“Are you passing?” Is all you say as you straighten up in your little nook. He seems to almost mirror you as he sits up in his chair.

“No. You were not my first.” This time when you don’t bother trying to hide your smug smile at his response, it’s nice to for once feel like you’ve got the upper hand on him.

“Was I the best you’ve ever had?” 

Well it was nice to have the upper hand for fifteen seconds. 

“You know no one wants to ever hear the answer to that question.” 

“I do.” 

Of course you do.

“Pass.” You really shouldn’t but it’s best to not give him the satisfaction of the truth.

“You know that’s basically an answer in itself. I’m willing to let you un-pass this one if you say it.” Gods you’re gonna kill him, after you win and fuck his brains out. Then you’re gonna kill him.

“I said pass.” 

“Okay princess.”

Why is he still so hot? He’s too nice and he’s hot, he’s an over confident dick and he’s hot. He should be studied at this point. You can’t help but ask a question for your own personal imagination of him now that he’s got you all riled up. 

“How old are you?” 

“I’m not sure. I stopped keeping track when I took the creed, somewhere in my late thirties probably.”

“You don’t know your own birthday?” 

“No.”

That shouldn’t make you as sad as it does. You get over it pretty quickly though when he asks his next question. 

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

You could kill him. You didn’t think you’d be back to the point of plotting his untimely death so soon but you could kill him. You could also lie but you have to remind yourself that that would be a hollow win, it would always loom over you. No sense in putting it off. 

“Yes.” Might as well use his own question against him, even if it ends up embarrassing you if he says no. “Do you? Ever think about me?” You would give anything to sound less timid at that moment. 

“Often.”

Maker, is this your punishment for cheating on your husband? The agonizing temptation of the man before you?

“Do you ever think about Kodo?” Oh he’s sick. But right, his tone indicates that he already knows the answer to his question.

“No.” It’s barely above a whisper. “Why were you acting so weird this morning?” You’ve all but given up your little plot at this point, you’re pretty sure you’ll be able to convince him with or without the win at some point later. 

“Weird?” 

“You were being all cordial and polite. It was weird.” You’re still whispering as he scoffs.

“Pass.”

“Oh come on.” You didn’t often beg for a follow up during this game but you were desperate to know, especially if he didn’t want you to know. 

“I’ll tell you if you let me win.”

Hmm. That’s not an easy choice but you’re losing so why not just let him have it, maybe tonight you could try inviting him in again. 

“Fine. You win, now tell me. Why were you acting off?” You cross your arms as you glare at him.

“For the same reason you chose to play the game.”

“What?”

Oh. 

Oh.

He was trying to seduce you.

He’s good. It’s infuriating how good he continues to be at this. He keeps winning at this whole sexual chess game you’ve been playing. You don’t have time to mock him for being so theatrical about this whole thing because he’s standing and in the blink of an eye he’s in front of you, leaning down and grabbing the bottom of your skirt, lifting it up to your seat.

“I win.” His voice is low and husky and it doesn’t even seem like he’s basking in his victory all that much because he’s too busy collecting the layers of your dress and holding them in place up at your hips. You don’t have a lot of time to process what’s going on as one of his hands is gripping your jaw. “Is it okay if I cash in my prize now?” He’s asking for permission and honestly all you can do is dumbly nod as he grabs your hips and roughly pulls you by the waist of your dress so your ass is barely hanging off the edge of the reading nook, one of his hands comes up to your mouth and he’s tapping his pointer and middle finger on your bottom lip. “Open.” 

You should be snippier with him. 

You want to be. You want desperately for him to not be in charge all the time. (Of course you do want him to be in charge some of the time but that’s besides the point.)

And you’re getting what you want so what’s the point of fighting now. You open your mouth and he slides his fingers past your teeth, not far enough to make you gag but enough to fill your mouth with the material. 

Metal, gunpowder, leather. 

It’s not all that unpleasant, especially since he’s slotting himself between your legs now. 

“Bite down.” You furrow your brows but gently bite and he pulls his hand free, keeping his glove between your teeth. “Keep that there, okay sarad? Nod if you understand.” 

What a prick. Talking down to you like that, if it didn’t make you so wet you’d spit his glove back in his face. 

Instead you nod, because afterall you’re only human and you have needs. 

“Good girl.” His condescending tone is infuriating and if you weren’t so horribly turned on by it you’d kick him where it hurts but his ungloved hand is unzipping his flight suit at the crotch so you decide to let this one slide. “Hold your skirt up for me, cyar’ika.” He mutters out as he manages to free his cock from his pants, already standing at attention, fully erect. 

It’s enough to have you tragically drooling at the sight of a man who wants you so badly he needs no time to prepare himself. 

To the best of your ability you grip the edges of your skirt up for him as his still gloved hand reaches under all of the tulle, fishing around for a moment until he finds the hem of your panties, shoving them down to your ankles as you let out a small groan into his glove. His still gloved hand is spreading your thighs as he slowly strokes himself with his other hand, once you’re seemingly exactly how he wants you you can faintly hear a sharp inhale as he takes in the sight of you staring up at him. 

“Cyare…” He mumbles as he switches his hands, bringing his bare hand between your legs. 

You shouldn’t whine the way you do. You wish you could have held it back but you’re already a mess just in anticipation of him and you just pray to the gods that the glove muffles the majority of it. Of course it doesn’t. Because he lets out a gravely laugh. 

“What’s wrong sarad?” His tone is not unkind but it is sarcastic as you feel his fingernails lightly scraping at your inner thigh. You can nearly see his confused look through the Beskar as he takes a moment to contemplate before he brings his gloved hand back between your legs as you nod pathetically. “Is this what you wanted? I thought you thought my gloves were stupid princess?” 

The tough leather on his fingertips is ever so slightly dragging through your seam as you let your head fall back. He hums in approval as he brings his bare hand back to his cock, jerking himself off gradually as he sinks a finger into your dripping cunt. 

No sense in maintaining any of your pride because the sensation forces an obscene groan out of you, accompanied by the lewd squelching sound as he withdrawals the single digit before sliding it back in. 

His fingers had already filled you so exquisitely, with the added thickness of the gloves you were pretty sure you died and went to heaven. He doesn’t wait long before he adds a second finger and honestly you’re pretty sure you can’t physically take a third as he slams them in and out of you brutally, he doesn’t give you anytime to catch your breath as he pulls them out almost entirely before sliding them home, down to the knuckle. 

You’re not sure where to look, there’s a lot going on right now and yes you had wanted this terribly but you didn’t think he’d give it to you so suddenly and you’re feeling a lot of things right now. 

You settle your eyes on his length. That perfect pretty cock of his. He’s matching the rhythm of his strokes to the rhythm of his other hand. Maker, you don’t deserve the show he’s putting on for you as he lets out quiet grunts, staring down at you. You let out a particularly loud whine as you feel his fingers curl ever so slightly.

“I love those pretty little noises you make but you have to be quiet mesh’la.” His hand briefly comes up to your mouth to shove more of the glove past your teeth as you whine softly. “If you can’t be quiet I’ll have to stop, do you understand?” 

He pulls his fingers from you, wiping his glove on the inside of your dress as you let out a small cry at the loss of contact, it makes him click his tongue. 

“Be a good girl okay? I know this is what you wanted, is that why you wore this? So I’d fuck you like the slut you are? All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules. But we can’t have anyone walking in so I need you to quiet down.” He’s lining the weeping pink tip of his cock up at your entrance so you swallow the moan threatening to burst from your throat.

You still aren’t used to how talkative he is during sex. Sure he talks to you but never like this. Most of the time he only ever says what he needs to to get under your skin and then he’s done. But when you’re like this, it’s like he can’t stop the words that fall past the modulator. 

He’s slower this time. The first time, he had fucked you like he would never get a chance to touch you again. Animalistic and mercilessly. Now it’s like he’s taking the time to savor you entirely. 

You want to spit the glove out and beg him to just fuck you without caution but you’re certain he would just go slower if you did that. Or worse, stop entirely. So you bite down on the glove and grit your teeth as he continues at his agonizingly slow pace, lazily shoving himself into your tight hole, inch by inch. He takes his time, dragging it out, he’s barely halfway in and he’s panting, his hand squeezing the still fresh bruises under your dress. 

Before you can stop him he starts pulling out again, you’re unable to fend off the meek whine that happens as he starts shallowly slow fucking you, never pushing himself more than a few inches in. It’s got you thrashing as he pins you down in place, your cunt milking the head of his cock. Your hands abandoning your skirt to hold onto his forearms for support .

His gloved hand came down with a smack on your inner thigh that has you keening as he starts massaging the red mark, spreading your legs a little wider. His thumb began rubbing rough circles against your clit. Just fast enough to make you squirm but not fast enough to push you over the edge. You can tell by the hoarse laughter that comes between his grunts that he’s doing this on purpose. Not fucking you deep enough to hit the spot that he know’s you’re hopelessly trying to push it against.

“Man-ooh” You spit out past the glove. You point your toes to try and get some traction on the ground. Struggling to drive him deeper into you, he responds with a harsh slap to your clit that has you jolting backwards against the window. 

“Ah ah, I thought I told you to be good. Good girls stay quiet.” He pushes his thumb down against your bud, applying pressure but holding it torturously still. 

“Pleath-” Is all you can manage to mumble out past the leather, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, as you try to writhe under his grip, anything to get him deeper inside you but he holds you in place as he impales you on his length.

“Please? Good girls don’t beg until they’re told to sarad.” He rocks his hips forward as he continues to mock you. 

It’s a real shame he knows how to work you up so easily. You’d love to slap that stupid tone out of his voice and tell him to fuck you proper but there’s something about the pure domination that he exudes the moment he decides he wants you. It’s intoxicating. You’re drunk on him when he gets like this, the primal needs to submit to him in the moment is overwhelming. He delivers another slap to your clit to get your attention that has you letting out a muffled yelp.

“Are you paying attention, mesh’la?” His voice is so low and condescending and it makes you tighten around him earning you a growl from the Mandalorian. “You like it when I treat you like this huh?” He gives you another snap of his hips, just enough to kiss that spot with his cockhead. 

You can feel a moan bubbling in your throat but bite it back, trying to stay silent, opting for a nod instead. 

“Good girl. Now say you’re sorry princess.” One of his hands is splayed out on your thigh, holding you spread open for him as the other hungrily gropes at your chest over your bodice. 

You close your eyes as your head leans back to avoid letting him see the crimson that is creeping up your face. You’ve come this far, why draw the line here.

“Thowwy” You should probably feel more shame. You’re the princess of a very important planet yet you’re here, in the library, being fucked sensless by a man who is notably not your husband, mumbling apologies through a gag. It’s easy to forget all that though because your pathetic sorry earns you a patronizing pat on the head, which subsequently results in a rush of heat between your legs. 

You might be a bad person for getting off on this.

Maybe think about that later, right now you’re too busy servicing the bodyguard your husband hired. 

“See, that’s better.” He brings his thumb up to swipe at your bottom lip, taking in the beads of drool before bringing it back to your clit. “Good girls get rewarded.” He snaps his hips forward, pushing just a little deeper. Finally letting the blunt head of his cock rest against that sensitive spot inside of you. 

It’s like he knows your body better than you do. It’s a little aggravating but it’s hard to be mad when he starts deliberately slamming himself against that spot. Matching his ministrations on your clit to his thrusts which has your entire body tensing as that wire in your core threatens to snap.  

You have autonomy. And he’s just a self-righteous asshole who is devastatingly good at sex. He likes to remind you of the fact that you don’t technically have the authority to dismiss him but you’re pretty sure you’re still his boss.

So why are you staring up at him now with pleading eyes as he fucks you, your eyes darting between him and the leather sticking out from your lips. You could spit it out, but instead you wait until his thrusts slow ever so slightly as he pulls the now soaked glove from your mouth, a line of drool going from it to your lips. 

“What is it, copikla?” He says it so derisively that you don’t need a translation to tell you he’s teasing you. 

Okay.

Normally you wouldn’t do this. Not unless a guy explicitly asked for it and it was your only option. But you know that if you ask for permission he’ll probably just let you and you woke up pent up and then there was all the teasing and the heat is going to your head so you can’t stop the babbles that spill from your lips. 

“Can I cum Mando? Please let me cum I’m so close please.” Hearing yourself say those words is a little humiliating, (for an unrelated reason you’re sure you get wetter as you say them) but it seems to work because he picks up his pace as he plunges himself into you. There’s no hesitation as you plead with him.

“Elek olaror sarad’ika. Cum for me.” His voice is a low growl as he holds your hips, pulling you down against him to push himself deeper into you as his thumb rolls over your clit just so. Everything combined with the Mando’a he seemingly can’t stop speaking has your eyes rolling back as you feel your walls clamping down on him, strangling his cock as you climax, your vision going a sharp white for a moment, his hand comes up just fast enough to muffle the cry that escapes your throat. Simultaneously he slips out of you, shooting his load onto your swollen soaked pussy.

You’re both just panting for a moment as you come down from your respective orgasms. He recovers first as he shoves himself back into his pants before kneeling down in front of you, pulling your panties up, keeping his cum on your skin. 

It’s filthy. The thought of spending the rest of the day with his seed between your legs is hot enough to hopefully keep you satisfied for a few more days than last time. 

Your head is still tilted back, resting against the window as your chest heaves. You barely even register the hiss of air, or the gentle kiss that’s placed against your inner thigh. 

Soft. His lips are soft, not chapped like you’d thought they’d be, with just a little bit of stubble. 

By the time you look down at him his helmet is back in place and you aren’t even sure it really happened. He straightens the layers on your skirt and stands up, his still ungloved hand brushes your hair back as he caresses your face.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He’s back to that soft tone he uses only for you and you scowl at him.

“You’re mean during sex.” 

It’s nice to hear him laugh in earnest. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear.

“I think you like it.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I get you anything princess?” There it is again. That tone where he makes it sound like an endearment.

You don’t really need anything but you do have something you need to do so you give him a distraction.

“Could I convince you to get me some water?” 

“There isn’t a lot you couldn’t convince me of.” 

It’s things like that that make it hard to remember this is a platonic arrangement. But he’s already walking to the door so you rush to find some stationary and you write out everything you need before stepping out into the hall. No sign of Mando so you whisper-yell Leodall’s name. It’s like he appears out of thin air, you should figure out how he does that at some point if you’re gonna keep having secret sexual relations. That isn’t your mission right now though so you hand him the paper and dismiss him before hurrying back into the library. Patiently awaiting Mando’s return. 

As you sit back in the nook you rest your head on the adjacent book shelf. 

Two days. 

You’ve had your rules for two days. So far you’ve broken a rule every day you’ve had them. 

Everyone makes mistakes.

You just won’t break any more rules from this point forward. 

“…All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules.”

That’s what he had said.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

Maybe you can keep breaking one rule. 

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[scenetocause]

💘 mando, pretty pls?

(omg so hard to decide on a heart, i wish i could send all of them!)

🫡 this is loosely set on that night when lando had everyone round to max's parents' lounge for a slumber party DJ set but i forgot it was martin not oli and whatever factual inaccuracy is actually ethical in rpf in this essay i will-

"Max." Lando says it casually, confidently, like he's not just tilted Max's world on it's axis.

He can't help spluttering. "You'd what, Bob?"

Lando's entirely unapologetic. "If I had to snog someone here, it'd be you, wouldn't it?"

That does sort of make sense, when Lando's slurping his can of White Claw and using the sensible, adult voice he did when he offered Max the Quadrant contract.

Except that. "We can't make out, mate."

Lando shrugs and Max is dimly aware there are other people here, that someone (Tom) is hollering at them to stop being fucking losers and get on with the game of truth or dare but that can wait, for now.

"Why not? Conor's got a girlfriend, I'm not snogging Tom and Oli's my brother. So, it just makes sense, doesn't it?"

Someone, Max suspects himself, whimpers quite pathetically.

"S'only a theoretic-whatever, innit. Just saying."

"Ok Bob." He sounds very weak. Feels very weak. Like he needs a cup of tea. Or perhaps he's become one, too dilute and half-cold and much too milky.

"What if it wasn't?" He's not sure that makes any sense, blurted out between sips of wine.

Lando catches up quickly, though. Always has. Looks at Max way too shrewdly for someone who's been drinking, like he's somehow got the focus to bore through Max's soul still.

"Go on, then."

He's never been very good at holding his breath. It makes him panic a bit, like he's drowning. 10 seconds is a long time to wait to exhale, staring at Lando to check he heard him right, through the blood thundering in Max's ears.

"Right, ok."

"Not here," Lando unfolds from the floor, offers Max a hand up. "Don't wanna do it in front of Oli, it's weird."

"Yeah, wouldn't want it to be weird," Max can't help the sarcasm. What the fuck's happening?

"Why would it be, mate?" Lando's got him backed up against the corridor wall and Max is forced to remember, for the millionth time, that he's the shorter one, now.

"Dunno." Max tilts his chin up, defiant now. If Lando's going to fucking snog him then like, just get on with it, yeah? They've nearly got here so many times, waking up tangled together in the Woking house and maybe if they had-

No. Max is done thinking about the past like superstitions, as though he could've saluted a few more magpies and made things different.

"Well don't be weird." Like it's that simple. It might be?

Lando leans in and Max has to scrabble a bit, to get a hold on him. Has to push his fingers into the muscle on Lando's shoulders, haul himself up a bit.

Annoyingly, Lando's good at kissing. Teases, with his tongue, before he nips at Max's lower lip to let him in. He's not as over-eager as Max thought he'd be, the times he's let himself think about them kissing. Has a sense of control, restraint that he knows the bloke must have a lot of but sometimes seems completely absent.

He's tender, too, holding Max around his waist like he's precious. Like this is romantic. Not like snogging one of your mates when you're both a bit tipsy. It's like an... old couple or something, still in love. Maybe that's what they are, still together after all this time and distance.

When Lando pulls back, squeezes Max around his middle, leans back in for another little kiss, Max has to stop himself saying anything stupid. No need to make it weird, is there?

[luckbealincoln]

Best Kept Secret

chapter nine : shuk'la rules

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.6k

summary : you spend some time in the library with the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, p in v sex, fingering, sort of a glove kink situation that is not verbally expressed but is def there, slapping, def like dom/sub vibes but also not spoken on, sort of a dumbification situation, degradation and also praise

You need sex.

Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. 

Instead of taming the beast it’s like he let it out of its cage and now it’s running rampant. 

But you had to have your stupid rules.

Maybe you could just get rid of the second one. 

You pick up the book, flipping to the back cover, staring at those damned words.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

What an idiot, in your stupid quest to make sure things stayed casual you were somehow denying yourself casual sex. Maybe you could just fake stress, or start a fight with him. No, he’d see right through that. You’re in a genuinely good mood after yesterday, you’ve got no reason to start shit with him.

But you need sex. 

And he’s sooo good at it. Annoyingly so. 

And you can’t just ask for it, because he’ll tease you about it. (Which probably wouldn’t be all that bad now that you think of it.) But you need him, terribly. You’re lying here in your closet bed, doing everything in your power to will away the ache between your thighs because you don’t have the time to deal with it yourself, Elaine and Lysa will be here at any minute. So you stuff your face in a pillow, and let yourself have a good long groan as you hear your bedroom doors open outside the closet. 

The closet doors fly open and Elaine steps in, grinning down at you. 

“Good morning ma’am, is everything alright? You’re normally awake by now, you must have had a long day yesterday.” She’s raising an eyebrow as you groan again. Bringing another pillow up to smash against your face. 

“I’m fine. Just tired.” You mumble into the cushion. She reaches down to tear the pillow from your hands, picking you up under your arms and lifting you to your feet. “Maker, you’re strong…” 

“I have to be to take care of you ma’am. Now, up. Time to dress.” She steps out and you follow her to the mirror as Lysa goes to find you a dress. 

“Something green.” You yell over your shoulder, maybe he’ll fuck you if you wear another green dress. Gods, you hope so. 

Okay, pull yourself together. You can’t be acting like this around him, he’ll use it to his advantage and you can’t let him get the upper hand on you, not when you’re in this state. Who knows what you’ll do or say to get him to touch you. 

    You zone out as they go through the usual routine of dressing you, the jade dress hugging your torso making you smile, maybe this will work. Once you’re all done up you take Elaine’s hand in yours.

“Thank you… seriously, you’re a miracle worker. You and Lysa have taken such good care of me.” You give her a warm smile and you're taken aback by the way she squints at you before returning the smile. 

“Thank you ma’am.”

That’s all she says as she steps back, looking you over once before nodding and taking Lysa’s hand before leaving. 

Weird.

You put it aside in your mind though because when they open the door you catch a glint of silver. You need to think fast, how are you going to seduce him? Gods, you're pathetic. Whatever. Just get out there, maybe actually seeing him will make this easier, the moment he starts being a jackass you’ll be able to resist him.

✩

It doesn’t work. 

He’s nice today. Uncharacteristically so, it’s actually off-putting. He had greeted you with a compliment on your dress, had walked you to the library with no complaints, no teasing, and no resistance. And had so kindly handed you the book you’d left off on last time, he had even opened it to the page you’d left off on before he sat across from the nook and opened his own book. 

What’s his angle here? You’re having a hard time focusing on your reading because now you’ve got to figure out what he’s plotting. 

Stern, protective, annoying, persistent, nice? The Mandalorian is a lot of things but he isn’t necessarily nice. 

He isn’t cruel by any means but it’s off putting to have him acting like this. Sadly it doesn’t make him any less attractive to you at this moment because you’re still imagining all the different ways you could lure him back to your chambers. Your thoughts are interrupted by the low hum of static that always comes before he speaks. 

“You seem distracted.” When you look up the helmet is staring at you and his book is closed. Kriff. 

“Nothing, just a little…” 

Horny?

“Bored.” 

“Mmm. Want to play that game? Might help alleviate some of the boredom?” He sets his book aside as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You’re about to blow him off with some lame excuse so you can keep plotting on how to bed him but you’re struck with an idea. 

“Sure. What does the winner get?” 

“Is there anything in particular you want?” Predictable, you knew he wouldn’t pick one himself.

“Hmm… how about the winner gets to break one of the rules?” He leans back in the chair as he’s seemingly considering the offer.

“Which rule did you have in mind?” 

“None of the important ones, just the second one. The stress relief one. Winner gets to break it once, at a time of their choosing.” He doesn’t need to know that you plan on cashing it in immediately when you win.

“Sounds fair enough, same rules as last time? Pass three times and you lose?” There’s a much stronger hint of amusement in his voice this time around and suddenly you’re nervous he might actually try to win. “You can go first again if you’d like.” 

Might as well start with an almost guaranteed pass. 

“Last time we played you said you needed the credits from this job, why?” 

You sit and try to hold back a smug smile as you wait to hear his response but it never comes. He just sits there thinking. 

“And you can’t lie.” You eventually add, in case he was trying to come up with an answer. 

“I need a ship. I know someone on a different planet that I’d like to go see.” He says each word slowly and carefully like he’s trying to phrase it a certain way. It makes you furrow your brow. You don’t have time to ponder it for long though because he’s already moving on. “What did you buy from that woman yesterday?” Shit, you had wanted that to be a surprise for him. You could always just use a pass on this, you’d still have two more, you aren’t really all that private he’s just managed to pick out a very specific thing you don’t want to answer. 

“Pass. Did you eat the food I gave you?” You should probably be focusing on more hard hitting questions if you want to win but you are genuinely curious.

“Yes. I had half last night and half this morning.” He sounds almost sheepish when he says it, like he’s admitting defeat. You want to laugh but you’re worried if you do he won’t take food in the future. “Why do you wear those horrific dresses on the fifth day of each week?” 

Jerk. 

He is right though, they are horrific. And it’s a huge relief that he’s seemingly done putting on the creepy over the top polite act he had going on. 

“Blue is Kodo’s favorite color. They dress me in it on days where I see him.” He lets out a huff at your response. 

“That’s a stupid reason.” 

“Do you often take note of what colors I’m wearing?”

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I do. Especially when it’s green. Did you wear that for me?” He nods at the jade gown you’re currently wearing.

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.” You silently wish he was sitting closer. 

“Yes. Do you like it?” 

“Is that your question?” He sounds like he’s grinning. 

“No. I just want to know.” 

“...Yes.” He takes a moment to just stare at you and that stupid heat is back in the library. “What’s your actual question?”

“Has anyone seen your face before?” You probably shouldn’t ask, it seems way too personal for how the game has been going so far but you’re in this to win it. 

“Yes.” 

Huh. You hadn’t expected an answer. And you definitely hadn’t expected that answer. 

“What do you think I look like?” 

You hadn’t expected that question either. 

“It’s a little arrogant of you to assume I ever think about you in my spare time.”

Or all the time, constantly, and in your dreams. 

“So you’ve never thought about it?”

All the time, constantly, sometimes in your dreams. 

“I have.”

“Then what do you think I look like?” 

Of course you’d thought about it, it’s hard to not wonder what the best sex of your life looks like under his helmet. You didn’t want him to actually take it off of course, you understand how important it is to him but your mind is allowed to wander. And you can’t help but hope that he at least takes it off to use that stupid mouth of his at some point, even if you can’t look. 

“Well… I always assumed brunette, even before getting confirmation. I don’t know, sharp features? Clipped short hair, unruly facial hair? I can never figure out your eyes though, I just can’t picture them.” 

He sits on it for a moment. 

“They’re brown.” 

That suits him. He seems like he would have soft, warm eyes that could turn cold and deadly in an instant. 

“That doesn’t count as my question by the way.” You snap at him, trying to relieve the intimate tension that’s suddenly settled between you. 

“Of course not.”

“How many bounties have you caught?” 

“I don’t keep track.”

“That’s not an answer.” You huff at him as you roll your eyes. 

“Fine.” He takes a moment as he thinks about it before you hear the familiar crackle of the modulator. “All of them.” 

Okay he’s got to be doing that on purpose. That low voice where he acts all serious, you want to call him out for it but it goes straight to your pussy and if you say something somehow he’ll end up finding out so why bother. 

“What’s your favorite color?” He sounds so genuinely interested when he asks you things like this. It breaks your heart every time because no one else ever seemed to care so much.

“I don’t have one.”

“We’re really on a hot streak of not answering the questions princess.” He tilts his head to the side.

“It used to be blue. Now I don’t have one.”

His helmet straightens up and he’s silent for a beat. You have to pray he isn’t giving you a look of pity under there. 

“How about for now it’s green. We can share a favorite color until you get a new one.”

It’s hard to remember that you’re just friends when he says things like that.

You should say no. Say it’s purple now, or orange, or anything else. 

But green is growing on you. 

Why is this dumb game so much more serious this time around? 

“Why is your favorite color green?” Your voice has lost its teasing edge, only sincerity remains. 

He’s silent again. 

“I knew a kid a while back who liked green.”

There’s something new. 

You can’t place the tone he has now.

It’s almost… sad . It makes you want to stand up and walk over to him, take his helmet in your hands and tell him he’s okay. Only for a second though because of course he has to ask a question that completely pulls you from the moment. 

“When did you know you wanted me?”

Presumptuous. Either he really wants to change the subject or he really wants to win. 

He’s leaning forward again and it makes you want to slap the stupid helmet. You decide against it, you’d only end up hurting yourself in that situation. 

“I’m not sure.” You puff out your chest slightly as you say it. 

“So you pass?” 

“No.” Shit, okay, do you even know the answer? “Maybe… the last time we played the game? I’m not sure.” 

“Good enough for me.” It’s annoying how satisfied with himself he sounds. 

“Was I your first time?” You don’t know why you ask it, you’re almost certain you weren’t because he shouldn’t have been that good his first time. Maybe you just want to knock him down a peg. It makes him scoff.

“Was I not up to your standard?” 

“It’s not your turn.” You try to sound indifferent when you say it. 

“Is this really how you want to play this game princess? Because I can make this a lot harder on you if it is.” His voice somehow manages to get lower, Maker, he’s the worst.

“Are you passing?” Is all you say as you straighten up in your little nook. He seems to almost mirror you as he sits up in his chair.

“No. You were not my first.” This time when you don’t bother trying to hide your smug smile at his response, it’s nice to for once feel like you’ve got the upper hand on him.

“Was I the best you’ve ever had?” 

Well it was nice to have the upper hand for fifteen seconds. 

“You know no one wants to ever hear the answer to that question.” 

“I do.” 

Of course you do.

“Pass.” You really shouldn’t but it’s best to not give him the satisfaction of the truth.

“You know that’s basically an answer in itself. I’m willing to let you un-pass this one if you say it.” Gods you’re gonna kill him, after you win and fuck his brains out. Then you’re gonna kill him.

“I said pass.” 

“Okay princess.”

Why is he still so hot? He’s too nice and he’s hot, he’s an over confident dick and he’s hot. He should be studied at this point. You can’t help but ask a question for your own personal imagination of him now that he’s got you all riled up. 

“How old are you?” 

“I’m not sure. I stopped keeping track when I took the creed, somewhere in my late thirties probably.”

“You don’t know your own birthday?” 

“No.”

That shouldn’t make you as sad as it does. You get over it pretty quickly though when he asks his next question. 

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

You could kill him. You didn’t think you’d be back to the point of plotting his untimely death so soon but you could kill him. You could also lie but you have to remind yourself that that would be a hollow win, it would always loom over you. No sense in putting it off. 

“Yes.” Might as well use his own question against him, even if it ends up embarrassing you if he says no. “Do you? Ever think about me?” You would give anything to sound less timid at that moment. 

“Often.”

Maker, is this your punishment for cheating on your husband? The agonizing temptation of the man before you?

“Do you ever think about Kodo?” Oh he’s sick. But right, his tone indicates that he already knows the answer to his question.

“No.” It’s barely above a whisper. “Why were you acting so weird this morning?” You’ve all but given up your little plot at this point, you’re pretty sure you’ll be able to convince him with or without the win at some point later. 

“Weird?” 

“You were being all cordial and polite. It was weird.” You’re still whispering as he scoffs.

“Pass.”

“Oh come on.” You didn’t often beg for a follow up during this game but you were desperate to know, especially if he didn’t want you to know. 

“I’ll tell you if you let me win.”

Hmm. That’s not an easy choice but you’re losing so why not just let him have it, maybe tonight you could try inviting him in again. 

“Fine. You win, now tell me. Why were you acting off?” You cross your arms as you glare at him.

“For the same reason you chose to play the game.”

“What?”

Oh. 

Oh.

He was trying to seduce you.

He’s good. It’s infuriating how good he continues to be at this. He keeps winning at this whole sexual chess game you’ve been playing. You don’t have time to mock him for being so theatrical about this whole thing because he’s standing and in the blink of an eye he’s in front of you, leaning down and grabbing the bottom of your skirt, lifting it up to your seat.

“I win.” His voice is low and husky and it doesn’t even seem like he’s basking in his victory all that much because he’s too busy collecting the layers of your dress and holding them in place up at your hips. You don’t have a lot of time to process what’s going on as one of his hands is gripping your jaw. “Is it okay if I cash in my prize now?” He’s asking for permission and honestly all you can do is dumbly nod as he grabs your hips and roughly pulls you by the waist of your dress so your ass is barely hanging off the edge of the reading nook, one of his hands comes up to your mouth and he’s tapping his pointer and middle finger on your bottom lip. “Open.” 

You should be snippier with him. 

You want to be. You want desperately for him to not be in charge all the time. (Of course you do want him to be in charge some of the time but that’s besides the point.)

And you’re getting what you want so what’s the point of fighting now. You open your mouth and he slides his fingers past your teeth, not far enough to make you gag but enough to fill your mouth with the material. 

Metal, gunpowder, leather. 

It’s not all that unpleasant, especially since he’s slotting himself between your legs now. 

“Bite down.” You furrow your brows but gently bite and he pulls his hand free, keeping his glove between your teeth. “Keep that there, okay sarad? Nod if you understand.” 

What a prick. Talking down to you like that, if it didn’t make you so wet you’d spit his glove back in his face. 

Instead you nod, because afterall you’re only human and you have needs. 

“Good girl.” His condescending tone is infuriating and if you weren’t so horribly turned on by it you’d kick him where it hurts but his ungloved hand is unzipping his flight suit at the crotch so you decide to let this one slide. “Hold your skirt up for me, cyar’ika.” He mutters out as he manages to free his cock from his pants, already standing at attention, fully erect. 

It’s enough to have you tragically drooling at the sight of a man who wants you so badly he needs no time to prepare himself. 

To the best of your ability you grip the edges of your skirt up for him as his still gloved hand reaches under all of the tulle, fishing around for a moment until he finds the hem of your panties, shoving them down to your ankles as you let out a small groan into his glove. His still gloved hand is spreading your thighs as he slowly strokes himself with his other hand, once you’re seemingly exactly how he wants you you can faintly hear a sharp inhale as he takes in the sight of you staring up at him. 

“Cyare…” He mumbles as he switches his hands, bringing his bare hand between your legs. 

You shouldn’t whine the way you do. You wish you could have held it back but you’re already a mess just in anticipation of him and you just pray to the gods that the glove muffles the majority of it. Of course it doesn’t. Because he lets out a gravely laugh. 

“What’s wrong sarad?” His tone is not unkind but it is sarcastic as you feel his fingernails lightly scraping at your inner thigh. You can nearly see his confused look through the Beskar as he takes a moment to contemplate before he brings his gloved hand back between your legs as you nod pathetically. “Is this what you wanted? I thought you thought my gloves were stupid princess?” 

The tough leather on his fingertips is ever so slightly dragging through your seam as you let your head fall back. He hums in approval as he brings his bare hand back to his cock, jerking himself off gradually as he sinks a finger into your dripping cunt. 

No sense in maintaining any of your pride because the sensation forces an obscene groan out of you, accompanied by the lewd squelching sound as he withdrawals the single digit before sliding it back in. 

His fingers had already filled you so exquisitely, with the added thickness of the gloves you were pretty sure you died and went to heaven. He doesn’t wait long before he adds a second finger and honestly you’re pretty sure you can’t physically take a third as he slams them in and out of you brutally, he doesn’t give you anytime to catch your breath as he pulls them out almost entirely before sliding them home, down to the knuckle. 

You’re not sure where to look, there’s a lot going on right now and yes you had wanted this terribly but you didn’t think he’d give it to you so suddenly and you’re feeling a lot of things right now. 

You settle your eyes on his length. That perfect pretty cock of his. He’s matching the rhythm of his strokes to the rhythm of his other hand. Maker, you don’t deserve the show he’s putting on for you as he lets out quiet grunts, staring down at you. You let out a particularly loud whine as you feel his fingers curl ever so slightly.

“I love those pretty little noises you make but you have to be quiet mesh’la.” His hand briefly comes up to your mouth to shove more of the glove past your teeth as you whine softly. “If you can’t be quiet I’ll have to stop, do you understand?” 

He pulls his fingers from you, wiping his glove on the inside of your dress as you let out a small cry at the loss of contact, it makes him click his tongue. 

“Be a good girl okay? I know this is what you wanted, is that why you wore this? So I’d fuck you like the slut you are? All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules. But we can’t have anyone walking in so I need you to quiet down.” He’s lining the weeping pink tip of his cock up at your entrance so you swallow the moan threatening to burst from your throat.

You still aren’t used to how talkative he is during sex. Sure he talks to you but never like this. Most of the time he only ever says what he needs to to get under your skin and then he’s done. But when you’re like this, it’s like he can’t stop the words that fall past the modulator. 

He’s slower this time. The first time, he had fucked you like he would never get a chance to touch you again. Animalistic and mercilessly. Now it’s like he’s taking the time to savor you entirely. 

You want to spit the glove out and beg him to just fuck you without caution but you’re certain he would just go slower if you did that. Or worse, stop entirely. So you bite down on the glove and grit your teeth as he continues at his agonizingly slow pace, lazily shoving himself into your tight hole, inch by inch. He takes his time, dragging it out, he’s barely halfway in and he’s panting, his hand squeezing the still fresh bruises under your dress. 

Before you can stop him he starts pulling out again, you’re unable to fend off the meek whine that happens as he starts shallowly slow fucking you, never pushing himself more than a few inches in. It’s got you thrashing as he pins you down in place, your cunt milking the head of his cock. Your hands abandoning your skirt to hold onto his forearms for support .

His gloved hand came down with a smack on your inner thigh that has you keening as he starts massaging the red mark, spreading your legs a little wider. His thumb began rubbing rough circles against your clit. Just fast enough to make you squirm but not fast enough to push you over the edge. You can tell by the hoarse laughter that comes between his grunts that he’s doing this on purpose. Not fucking you deep enough to hit the spot that he know’s you’re hopelessly trying to push it against.

“Man-ooh” You spit out past the glove. You point your toes to try and get some traction on the ground. Struggling to drive him deeper into you, he responds with a harsh slap to your clit that has you jolting backwards against the window. 

“Ah ah, I thought I told you to be good. Good girls stay quiet.” He pushes his thumb down against your bud, applying pressure but holding it torturously still. 

“Pleath-” Is all you can manage to mumble out past the leather, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, as you try to writhe under his grip, anything to get him deeper inside you but he holds you in place as he impales you on his length.

“Please? Good girls don’t beg until they’re told to sarad.” He rocks his hips forward as he continues to mock you. 

It’s a real shame he knows how to work you up so easily. You’d love to slap that stupid tone out of his voice and tell him to fuck you proper but there’s something about the pure domination that he exudes the moment he decides he wants you. It’s intoxicating. You’re drunk on him when he gets like this, the primal needs to submit to him in the moment is overwhelming. He delivers another slap to your clit to get your attention that has you letting out a muffled yelp.

“Are you paying attention, mesh’la?” His voice is so low and condescending and it makes you tighten around him earning you a growl from the Mandalorian. “You like it when I treat you like this huh?” He gives you another snap of his hips, just enough to kiss that spot with his cockhead. 

You can feel a moan bubbling in your throat but bite it back, trying to stay silent, opting for a nod instead. 

“Good girl. Now say you’re sorry princess.” One of his hands is splayed out on your thigh, holding you spread open for him as the other hungrily gropes at your chest over your bodice. 

You close your eyes as your head leans back to avoid letting him see the crimson that is creeping up your face. You’ve come this far, why draw the line here.

“Thowwy” You should probably feel more shame. You’re the princess of a very important planet yet you’re here, in the library, being fucked sensless by a man who is notably not your husband, mumbling apologies through a gag. It’s easy to forget all that though because your pathetic sorry earns you a patronizing pat on the head, which subsequently results in a rush of heat between your legs. 

You might be a bad person for getting off on this.

Maybe think about that later, right now you’re too busy servicing the bodyguard your husband hired. 

“See, that’s better.” He brings his thumb up to swipe at your bottom lip, taking in the beads of drool before bringing it back to your clit. “Good girls get rewarded.” He snaps his hips forward, pushing just a little deeper. Finally letting the blunt head of his cock rest against that sensitive spot inside of you. 

It’s like he knows your body better than you do. It’s a little aggravating but it’s hard to be mad when he starts deliberately slamming himself against that spot. Matching his ministrations on your clit to his thrusts which has your entire body tensing as that wire in your core threatens to snap.  

You have autonomy. And he’s just a self-righteous asshole who is devastatingly good at sex. He likes to remind you of the fact that you don’t technically have the authority to dismiss him but you’re pretty sure you’re still his boss.

So why are you staring up at him now with pleading eyes as he fucks you, your eyes darting between him and the leather sticking out from your lips. You could spit it out, but instead you wait until his thrusts slow ever so slightly as he pulls the now soaked glove from your mouth, a line of drool going from it to your lips. 

“What is it, copikla?” He says it so derisively that you don’t need a translation to tell you he’s teasing you. 

Okay.

Normally you wouldn’t do this. Not unless a guy explicitly asked for it and it was your only option. But you know that if you ask for permission he’ll probably just let you and you woke up pent up and then there was all the teasing and the heat is going to your head so you can’t stop the babbles that spill from your lips. 

“Can I cum Mando? Please let me cum I’m so close please.” Hearing yourself say those words is a little humiliating, (for an unrelated reason you’re sure you get wetter as you say them) but it seems to work because he picks up his pace as he plunges himself into you. There’s no hesitation as you plead with him.

“Elek olaror sarad’ika. Cum for me.” His voice is a low growl as he holds your hips, pulling you down against him to push himself deeper into you as his thumb rolls over your clit just so. Everything combined with the Mando’a he seemingly can’t stop speaking has your eyes rolling back as you feel your walls clamping down on him, strangling his cock as you climax, your vision going a sharp white for a moment, his hand comes up just fast enough to muffle the cry that escapes your throat. Simultaneously he slips out of you, shooting his load onto your swollen soaked pussy.

You’re both just panting for a moment as you come down from your respective orgasms. He recovers first as he shoves himself back into his pants before kneeling down in front of you, pulling your panties up, keeping his cum on your skin. 

It’s filthy. The thought of spending the rest of the day with his seed between your legs is hot enough to hopefully keep you satisfied for a few more days than last time. 

Your head is still tilted back, resting against the window as your chest heaves. You barely even register the hiss of air, or the gentle kiss that’s placed against your inner thigh. 

Soft. His lips are soft, not chapped like you’d thought they’d be, with just a little bit of stubble. 

By the time you look down at him his helmet is back in place and you aren’t even sure it really happened. He straightens the layers on your skirt and stands up, his still ungloved hand brushes your hair back as he caresses your face.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He’s back to that soft tone he uses only for you and you scowl at him.

“You’re mean during sex.” 

It’s nice to hear him laugh in earnest. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear.

“I think you like it.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I get you anything princess?” There it is again. That tone where he makes it sound like an endearment.

You don’t really need anything but you do have something you need to do so you give him a distraction.

“Could I convince you to get me some water?” 

“There isn’t a lot you couldn’t convince me of.” 

It’s things like that that make it hard to remember this is a platonic arrangement. But he’s already walking to the door so you rush to find some stationary and you write out everything you need before stepping out into the hall. No sign of Mando so you whisper-yell Leodall’s name. It’s like he appears out of thin air, you should figure out how he does that at some point if you’re gonna keep having secret sexual relations. That isn’t your mission right now though so you hand him the paper and dismiss him before hurrying back into the library. Patiently awaiting Mando’s return. 

As you sit back in the nook you rest your head on the adjacent book shelf. 

Two days. 

You’ve had your rules for two days. So far you’ve broken a rule every day you’ve had them. 

Everyone makes mistakes.

You just won’t break any more rules from this point forward. 

“…All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules.”

That’s what he had said.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

Maybe you can keep breaking one rule. 

[qveerthe0ry]

Some people (an unknown number) have temporarily disappeared from the Pedro party that @sp00kymulderr is hosting, and seem to be getting busy in one of the bedrooms (guys, the balcony doors are open... we can hear everything)...

What's going and who is in there?

It’s actually kinda awkward because I was looking for our gracious host @sp00kymulderr to tell them Frankie accidentally broke their vase, but I couldn’t find them anywhere 👀 Then I heard Dieter begging and whimpering all pathetic-like down the hall and figured out pretty quickly where they went 😏

ALSO.

Frankie broke the lamp because he got a little too distracted by @survivingandenduring … Now I don’t know where either of them are either 😅

This party is OUT OF CONTROL. I’m going to go see if Mando will let me hang with Grogu for emotional support, if you wanna join me

Unless you’ll be busy with one of these Pedro Boys…?

[pedroshotwifey]

Favorite Bounty Chapter 4

Series masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Chapter W/C: 7.3k

Chapter tags/warings: angst, ouchy, no use of y/n, reader being a horny cuss, canon-typical violence, PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE

Summary: All it takes is a beskar-covered bounty hunter and his little green child to transform your life completely. Settling into life on the Razor Crest is easy enough, but what happens once the tension between you and the Mandalorian gets to be too much? Will you be able to handle the conflict that keeps getting thrown your way?

A/N: Hey, I'm going to go ahead and put it out there that these first few chapters will not be the best. Favorite Bounty was the first thing I ever wrote, so please keep that in mind. I have gone through and edited the small things so there is a bit of improvement from when it was originally posted to ao3. After chapter 4 is out, every chapter after that will be brand new and will have better grammar/writing. Thanks for reading! :)

***

The first thought in your head, when you woke, was that it was fucking cold. 

The second, coming in right after the first is that you are alone in Mandos empty bunk — that hit you like a ton of bricks. Ignoring the chill racking over your body, you look around the dark cot, trying — and failing — to spot a gleam of Beskar. The tears that suddenly well up in your eyes are involuntary, and you shake your head, trying to will them away quickly so you can pretend like it never happened. 

You really shouldn't be disappointed, but you can't help but feel upset, and the freezing temperature is not doing much to help your case. To be honest, you don't know whether to focus your anger on Mando for not being able to decide how he feels, or at yourself, for convincing yourself the man can choose a side. Turns out, you are both fools. 

You find that you are able to get the tears to stop almost as soon as they came, though that might be because they turned to fucking ice on your cheeks. The cold makes you want to bundle up in the thin blanket wrapped around your shoulders and hide in the bunk all day to conserve body heat, but you know that's not an option. At the very least, you are going to have to find Helmet Head to ask him when he plans on fixing that particular issue. Fuck.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes to try to calm the sudden buzz inside of you. Whether it stems from anxiety, anger, or disappointment, well, that's anyone's guess. Kriff, it’s probably some twisted combination of all three. Before Mando, nobody had ever caused you to have to think like this, to have to rack through your brain for answers on how you are feeling. 

Sighing, you sit up, tugging the blanket further around you as you start to pry the bunk door open. The damned thing is about a million times harder to open than it used to be now that the control panel is busted and the edges are iced shut. Soft curses slip out through your grinding teeth as your muscles strain to pull the hunk of metal up and open. 

You are actually starting to warm up from all the movement by the time it flies open, surprisingly just giving away all at once, causing you to lose your footing and be knocked onto your back. You mutter another curse as you stare at the sliding door that now rests in place on the ceiling. Maybe you should just leave it open so it can mold there instead, fuck whatever Mando has to say about it.

You only lay there for a few seconds before you lift yourself back up to get out of this icebox, and when you do, you suddenly forget about the cold, because the heat that rises to your cheeks is enough to melt you almost completely. As you peer out of the opening and into the hull, you lock your gaze on Mando, who is standing right outside. He probably heard your pathetic attempts to get the door open and took pity on you by lifting it himself. That would explain why it just unjammed so suddenly. You can feel your face growing red with embarrassment. 

Neither of you say a thing as you stare at each other, the silent battle only broken when Mando turns around and starts to walk away. You can hear a voice in your head screaming to stop him, but you find yourself unable to act on the command, glued to the spot where you still sit on the bunk. You thought at the very least that he would have the decency to say hello to you, but you've landed yourself all the way back at square one. Complete fucking strangers. 

You aren't sure how much of this back-and-forth you are going to be able to take. For a second, you consider the possibility that The Mandalorian may quite literally be two different people, and you almost laugh at how silly that thought is. Your brain is trying to make excuses in any way possible to rule out the truth — that Mando is genuinely just an asshole. What kind of guy decides it is any kind of okay to flirt with you when he’s bored and then cast you away as soon as he gets his fill? All of a sudden, a new line of thought brings itself to light, one that you wish would have stayed away. What if it was you?

What if you're the reason he decides not to acknowledge you? What if he finds you annoying, or clingy, or rude? What if he doesn't find you attractive? What if he thinks that you went too far last night? What if he thought of you as no more than stress relief? What if he regrets keeping you on his ship in the first place? You try to shake the ideas from your head, but they just keep coming, pulling you down until you feel like you can't escape them.  

You close your eyes in concentration, trying to push the thoughts away. You decide at this moment that you aren't going to let that bastard get to you. No matter what, you won't let him see how he makes you feel. It takes you a second, but once you feel like you will be able to keep a level head, you push yourself out of the bunk. Your shaking resumes as soon as your bare feet hit the cold durasteel floor of the hull.

****

You find Mando up in the cockpit, laying on his back with his helm set under the dash, seemingly working with some wiring. He has one leg kicked straight out and the other is bent with his boot flat on the ground. You can see the child sitting on his torso, his back resting on Mando’s bent knee, distracting himself with a small metal ball. If you weren't so determined to be upset right now, you would probably smile at the domestic sight. 

Before you move any further, the child peeks his head around Mando’s thigh and catches you standing in the doorway. The shiny ball falls forgotten onto the floor as the kid coos excitedly and pushes himself up to half-waddle, half-run to you. He throws his tiny arms in the air and extends his fingers, wiggling them up at you expectantly. Okay, now you’re smiling. You at least manage to hold in a laugh out of spite as you respond to the kid's grabby hands and pick him up, settling him on your hip.

When you look back up you see that Mando has pushed himself out from under the dash and is now sitting up against it, watching you interact with the kid. You will yourself not to blush when you find yourself at a loss for words. On the way up here, you had planned out a conversation so that it wouldn't be awkward when you inevitably had to talk to him — clearly, that didn't work out how you had hoped it would. 

“Hey,” you say, averting your eyes back to the kid. Really, that's the best you’ve got? The Mandalorian just nods back at you and sets the tool that was previously in his hand down. You watch him as he gets up and walks over to you, stopping somehow both closer and farther away than you would like. There is a moment of silence before you look back at him, tilting your head so that you can stare into his visor. 

He says nothing as you stare, but he shifts in a way that suggests he is getting ready to speak. You’ve noticed that he does that a lot — gives away when he wants to say something. When he does so, you usually find yourself trying to predict what he’s going to say, and you’re quite good at your little game, if you do say so yourself. However, this time, you have no idea what might come out of his mouth. It may be selfish, but you find yourself hoping that whatever is said, is in the form of an apology. Actually, you would take a simple hello, maybe a good morning, possibly a question of how you slept — any form of fucking acknowledgment will do. 

You want to slap yourself for thinking like that, for lowering your standards to the dirt below your feet in hopes that this man might make up his mind and take you for his own. Maybe it's the fact that you’ve been without company for so long, or maybe it’s that you simply had missed general intimacy, but whatever it may be, you’ve realized that you miss belonging to someone, and them belonging to you in return. You swallow down a lump in your throat as you try not to let your feelings show in your expression. The last thing you need is for the Mandalorian to see how pathetic you are when you feel alone. 

“I have to leave again,” the Mandaorian tells you as he stops shifting. Now, you do feel your face fall, and you can’t even find it in you to care. His voice seems colder than usual, and it feels like an extra punch to the gut. He almost sounds pained to have to talk to you, and you suddenly feel the urge to throw up. You messed up that bad, huh? 

“What do you mean, why do you have to leave?” you try not to sound panicked as you question him. 

“The town that I went out to find yesterday was deserted. They had close to nothing in terms of food, let alone fuel,” he pauses as he searches your expression, waiting for you to butt back in again, but you stay silent. “I should have better luck with this one, but it is farther away,” he finishes. By the way he says it, you have a feeling you aren't going to like the answer to your next line of question. 

“How far?” you ask him, your voice quieter now. He looks at you, and then at the ground before answering, like he doesn't want to have to look you in the eye anymore. 

“About two days there, and two back if I choose not to stop and rest.” He turns around and starts to collect his tools into a bag, leaving you with a worried expression. How does he suppose you’re supposed to refrain from freezing to death while he goes out again? And to add to that, how does he expect to stay warm outside for so long? You swear the man just doesn’t fucking think sometimes. 

“Mando,” you say when you are able to form a coherent thought in the fog of your mind. It comes out a little harsher than you intended, and you see the Mandalorian flinch ever so slightly in response, but you do nothing to correct your tone. “How in kriff do you expect any of us to not freeze our fucking asses off while-”

“I have a backup generator,” he says simply, cutting you off. You continue to gape at him, waiting until he turns back around to face you before you roll your eyes and put your free hand on your hip. At this point, you don't even care if you seem childish — he really plans on leaving you and the child on the Crest with this supposed “backup generator” that is probably older than the ship itself, in the middle of this icebox planet while he runs off to some town that probably doesn’t even kriffing exist. Great, just fucking great.

“You’ll be fine,” he says with a finality that makes you flinch. Yea, you probably deserve that. He keeps talking as he resumes his cleanup. “There should be enough food to last you and the kid at least a week, and I'll be back before then no matter what.” You just watch him with slanted eyes as he continues to answer all of your unspoken concerns. The air of confidence in his voice as he speaks is so apparent that it makes you want to punch that stupid bucket right off his stupid head. 

“The generator should last just as long, if not longer, and the kid tends to want to sleep more when he’s cold, so you won’t have to worry about him causing too much trouble,” he finishes up his cleaning and walks back to you, stopping just as close as last time. “You’ll be fine.” Again, he says it in a tone that makes you wish you had never confronted him in the first place. You have nothing more to say to him, so you nod and turn on your heel, taking the child down to the kitchenette for his breakfast. You notice as you leave how silent the kid had been during the whole interaction between you and Mando, as if he could sense the tension between the two of you, and it almost makes you laugh… almost. 

****

Less than two hours later, Mando is walking back down the ramp of the crest after setting up the generator — which is doing little to warm the ship, much to your chagrin. There were no words spoken since you left the cockpit other than Mando telling you to shut the ramp behind him and to stay on the ship. You had simply nodded and followed to watch his descent back into the snowy abyss. So now you’re a prisoner? Great. 

Once you could no longer see the gleam of beskar through the flurries, you did as he asked and made your way back to your own makeshift cot for some much-needed alone time. The kid is asleep in his pram, and with Mando gone, the Crest is almost eerily silent, save for the quiet buzz of the generator coming from somewhere above you. You are thankful for the strange comfort that it brings, the soft hum just enough to lull you to sleep. As your eyelids slip close, you register the fact that you probably shouldn’t be sleeping this much, but at the moment, you can't find it in you to care. 

****

You are only able to sleep for about an hour before you are woken by the kid. His soft coos and yawns make their way to your cot and you can't help but smile as you get up and go lift him out of his pram. You can immediately tell that he's hungry, his big eyes boring into yours, begging you for food as if he hadn't eaten for days. You tuck him into the crease of your arm as you make your way to the kitchenette. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” you play into his game. “I bet you must be starving.” He looks up at you and gives you a pitiful nod, and you have to bite your lip to hold back your smile. After you set the kid down, you turn to the cabinet and reach for the top shelf, struggling to reach the desired package as you stand on your tip-toes. Eventually, you are able to maneuver your fingers enough to grab onto it and pull it down. Your nose scrunches as you read the label; Carrots and Frog. The child seems to have the opposite reaction, suddenly squirming in his seat and reaching out for the box.

You laugh as you pour about half of the package out into a bowl, heating it up before setting it in front of the kid. “Here you go, honey,” you give him a knowing look. “I’ll have to talk with your daddy,” you laugh again as he immediately lifts the bowl to his mouth and starts to slurp it down, some of the broth trailing down his little chin. “Clearly, he’s neglecting you,” your tone is playful as you sit down next to him and wait for him to finish. As you sit in silence and watch the kid slurp up his meal, you realize how much you have come to care for him. If anything ever happened, you would break you to have to leave him.

You frown as you think about that even being a possibility. You know that Mando has been acting a little differently lately, and your stomach drops as the thought again comes to mind that he is sick of you. Surprisingly, it doesn't bother you in the sense that it makes you insecure, but instead, you find yourself panicked at the thought of being kicked off the ship. If he makes you leave, you would likely never see the little womp rat again. You realize that you have become way too comfortable living on the Crest, to the point where you consider it home. You quickly shake that thought off before it can consume your thoughts and further ruin your day.

After the kid finishes up his breakfast you introduce him to hide and seek, which he likes a little too much. You end up playing the game nonstop until dinner time rolls around. He ran out of new places to hide after about an hour, so it was pretty much just a guessing game between the same handful of spots. You drew it out of course, but it was repetitive enough to wear you out more than it would have if you had a bigger space to work with. The kid finds it absolutely amazing that you keep finding him, and the toothy smile he rewards you with each time is enough to keep you playing. 

He only stops to eat dinner that night after you promise you can pick the game up first thing the next morning — which you do, of course. This ends up being the routine for the entirety of the time Mando is gone, and by that time you almost find yourself regretting telling the child about it. You know deep down that you’ll do anything to keep him happy though, so of course that's a lie. 

Well, until you can’t find him, at least. Of course, it’s on the day that Mando is scheduled to return that the kid finally finds somewhere new to hide. You had checked all of the usual spots with no results — twice. You didn’t panic at first, using the logic that he was probably just moving around at the same time as you. But after about an hour and a half without so much as a giggle, you start to worry. There's no way he could have gotten off of the ship without the ramp alerting you, and you’re pretty sure he can’t fit inside the walls — but that doesn’t stop you from unscrewing a few panels just in case. 

You waste another thirty minutes like that, looking in places you never would have thought he could reach. Even though the Crest is still cooler than usual, you find yourself sweating when you realize you honestly have no idea where he could be. Mando should be back likely within the next few hours, and he’s going to come back to his missing child. He’s going to fucking kill you. He trusts you with one kriffing thing and you somehow screw it up. How do you manage to lose a whole ass child?

Just as you’re about to go up to the cockpit and com for Mando — which is probably a bad idea in retrospect — you hear a soft pang come from behind you. You spin on your heel and walk slowly towards where it came from, trying to open your ears in search of another. 

“Kid?” You call out softly and get a coo in response. The relief that washes over you is as if someone dumped a bucket of water on you. You call for him a few more times, inching toward his responding sounds every time he giggles or bangs against something. You feel like a kriffing idiot when you end up at the door or Mando’s bunk. You never even thought to check here. You made a habit of keeping out of there when he’s out, and you didn’t realize the kid had enough strength to open the still-broken door on his own. 

You quickly spring into action, putting all your weight into lifting the door and sliding it back, watching as big eyes are slowly revealed to the hull. He doesn’t seem to have hurt himself, but you do notice that there are quite a few drawers and cabinets open. The kid had clearly been digging around, likely looking for something else to play with. You sigh as you take in the small mess he made, knowing you’re going to have to clean it before Mando gets back. For now, though, you need to get the child to bed.

“Oh, honey,” you tell him as you climb into the bunk. “We can’t be in here, sweetie, this is your daddy’s space and I don't think he would appreciate us looking through his things.” You lean down to scoop the kid up, ignoring his adorable babbles of protest. He always gets extra grumpy this time of day, though that's usually a good sign. If he’s grumpy, he’s worn out, and if he’s worn out, he’s tired — making your job of getting him to sleep much easier. You giggle and plant a kiss on his wrinkly little head. “Oh, don’t be mad at me, little man,” you say, stroking one of his comically large ears. “It’s your bedtime anyway.” 

Before you leave, you let yourself glance around Mando’s room — the kid isn’t the only one curious about the Mandalorian, and you didn’t get a chance to look around since it was so dark when you had been inside it. You’re almost surprised to see little trinkets linking the shelves above the cot and small signs of wear and tear on the cabinets that tell you the room has been lived in. It's like you had expected everything in the bunk to be completely sterile and unpersonalized — much like the shiny armor he dons 99% of the time. You don’t know why you thought that, it’s kind of a silly assumption. Mando may be a warrior, but he is still a man after all. You shake your head and flip the light off as you retreat back to the hull with the child starting to fall asleep in your arms. Now that you're sure the door won't freeze again, you slide it back down into place. 

You only take a few steps into the hull before you hear the kid snoring. He shifts in your arms and you make a point to move as carefully and quietly as you can towards his pram. Thank the maker for the way too hard-core hide-and-seek sessions, this might be the quickest you’ve ever been able to put him to bed. Normally, you have to sit for him for a minute and hum softly or tell him a story before he starts to drift off. Opening the pram, you gently unravel the snoring kid from your arms before placing him into the crib, covering him with a blanket up to his tiny chin. He looks so peaceful that you have the urge to stand there and watch him for a minute, but that plan is surrendered as a shrill pinging noise makes its way through the Crest. 

You initially jump as the sound breaks the silence, but quickly calm yourself as you recognize that it’s not a noise the Crest would make. At least you know that there's nothing wrong with the ship itself, but what he actually kriff could that be otherwise? You hit the button to close the kid’s pram before you start to follow the noise. It takes you a moment, but eventually, it starts to get a little louder when you begin retracing your steps to Mando’s cot. For some reason, it almost sounds like the pings are picking up speed with every step you take, each noise coming in faster than the last. 

The rapid beeping brings you to a stop in front of Mando’s closed bunk, and you hesitate before lifting the door again. The blaring noise seems to get ten times louder by the time you get rid of the barrier to the room. You push yourself onto the cot and immediately spot the source — a small round object laying by the head of it near where the kid had been rifling through the top drawer. The trinket looked to be too flat to have much wiring involved, so you ruled out the possibility of it being a bomb, Plus, why in Mustafar would Mando ever keep something like that where the kid could reach it — he’s far too careful to do something like that. You know he has a weapons locker, if he ever had a need for an explosive, he would keep it there with his blasters. 

You quickly snatch it up and examine it, trying to find some kind of a button. The noise is almost ear-splittingly loud now and the small red light coming from it is blinking in rapid succession. When you can’t find a way to turn it off, you start to panic. Mando told you that the kid’s pram is soundproof, but he didn’t tell you how much it could withstand before sound started to leak through. The last thing you need right now is to have the child crying on your hip as you fumble with the ridiculously loud object. The thought to set it on the ground and crush it beneath your boot crosses your mind, but you shove that idea aside when you think about the fact that it – whatever it may be — belongs to Mando. 

You, for one, don’t want to damage any of his property, and, for two, don’t want him to think that it was you snooping through his things when he discovers that it’s missing. Your second idea is to find something to smother it with to dull the sound. Your makeshift cot jumps to mind, the blankets you had stacked on top of each other should work perfectly. You quickly scramble out of the bunk and run over to the corner of the hull where you had set up your space. In your rush to gather the various blankets and sheets, you knock the screaming object out of your grasp, swearing as it hits the ground with a loud thud. But after that — nothing. The kriffing thing finally shut up. You laugh with relief as the usual quiet of the Crest returns, and after a minute your ears slowly stop ringing. The silence is almost biting after having that thing going off for the past five minutes, if not for the generator still working its magic on the floor above you, there would be no sound left at all. 

Exasperated after your long day and from the rush of that whole ordeal, you lean back against the wall behind you and let yourself slide down to the floor. You sit staring at the durasteel between your legs for a moment, allowing yourself to bask in the feeling that comes from finally having a moment to yourself. When you look up again, you come face to face with, well, you. You bite back a shout as you slam yourself further into the wall at your back. You are almost nose to nose with what looks to be a holographic picture of your face and upper body. Your confusion only intensifies when you look at the bottom of the holograph, the end tapering into a point that seems to be coming out of the small device from Mando’s room. You quickly scramble to your feet, standing so you can look at the back and sides of the image, which are — as expected — a perfect still of you. You look maybe a few years younger, but there is no mistaking who it was. 

Stopping at the back, you reach your hand out and watch, bewildered, as it passes through the back of your head. The questions start to flood your mind, each one causing you to grow more perplexed as you search for an answer. First off, why the fuck did the Mandalorian have a holograph of you hidden in a drawer in his bunk? Second, why did it have to be so kriffing noisy? And why did it get louder and — flashier? — the closer you came to it? You circled the image one more time before you stopped and everything suddenly clicked. You are frozen in place as millions of emotions flood you at once. The anger that pulses through your veins seems to warm your entire body, overwhelming and completely taking over your confusion. The dominant emotion, however, had to be the betrayal that rushes into you and settles hard in your gut. Sure, you might not have known Mando for very long, but you trusted him enough to think that he wouldn’t cause you any harm, or rather, bring you to it. 

The object that lay below you is a bounty puck. Your bounty puck. 

You feel the blood drain from your face as it really hits you what this means. You need to get out of here, away from Mando. You can feel the panic setting in and you have to make an effort to keep calm when you realize that’s not going to happen anytime soon. You wouldn’t have a chance on your own on this planet, and since Mando is still out, you wouldn’t dare leave the kid — you would let any bounty hunter turn you in before you ever left the child without a guardian. There’s nowhere to run right now, as soon as Mando gets back, you have no doubt that’s exactly what he will do. He’ll set the course to Nevarro and hand you over for some credits. 

It’s smart on his part, you’ll give him that. He lets you aboard his ship and quickly earns your trust, letting you watch his kid and have free roam while he picks up a few more bounties. You made it so fucking easy too — so completely oblivious, even throwing in a quick sexual release for him. How could you be so kriffing stupid? It's not your brightest move, trusting a bounty hunter, but he never gave you any reason to mistrust him. Tears begin to blur your vision and you shake your head in an attempt to will them away, but you only succeed in allowing them to fall. No. You can’t cry right now, there's no time. You need to take action before it’s too late. Mando should be back soon and by the time he gets here, you will have to be able to look and act presentable. If he suspects that you know why you’re really here he will probably lock you in carbonite, and if that happens you’ll have no chance at all. Wiping your tears, you take a deep breath and sit back down, staring into your own unmoving eyes as you start to think up a plan.

****

It takes a few hours, but you eventually decide on what you think is the best course of action to ensure your freedom — and survival. The only way you’re possibly going to get out of this situation is to act like everything is normal until Mando lands on a planet with a spaceport. Even if that means waiting for Nevarro, which you know is probably your best bet. As soon as he turns his back, you’ll run for it and hope he doesn’t notice your absence long enough for you to take a ship off-world. As much as you hate it, you will need to know that Mando is on the Crest. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you left the kid behind without knowing if he is being looked after or not. Your heart clenches at the thought of leaving him behind at all, but you can’t just stay around and allow yourself to be sold off to whoever seemed to have wanted you enough to put a bounty on your head in the first place.

You try to think about who might have done such a thing, but you come up empty-handed. You’ve always been a good citizen, never stolen or gotten into a fight. There's not a single reason anybody should be after you, but that’s almost the scariest part. If Mando succeeds in turning you in, what would happen to you? You shudder as you think about living out the rest of your life in a cell or as a slave, likely being beaten and starved. 

A sudden noise sounds through the ship for the second time tonight, thankfully not coming from the puck this time. It sounds like the com in the cockpit has been activated, likely Mando calling to tell you he’s close. You freeze up as you think about having to be around him and be normal. Sure, it scares you that he has you right where he wanted you, an easy target. The sting of betrayal, however, easily surpasses the fear. You think back to less than a week ago when you had been so hurt over the fact that he had been ignoring you, and it almost makes you laugh as you think about how fucking pitiful that was compared to how you feel now. This man has caused you nothing but harm and yet you still have a scrap of hope that he’s not who you think he is, that he really didn’t mean any of it. Even though you have the evidence right in front of you, you want to believe that he is a good person. 

You may be naive, but you can’t deny the nagging part of your brain that wants you to confront him. You won’t of course, you can’t risk your life over the pathetic part of you that wishes this is all just a misunderstanding. When the ringing in the cockpit picks up again, you stand and walk over to the ladder, climbing until you reach the top floor. Taking a deep breath, you situate yourself in the pilot’s chair, only hesitating a moment before answering the call. A holovid of Mando’s helmet comes into view and you straighten in your seat, your mouth clamped shut, not trusting yourself not to say something stupid that will give you away. Fortunately, you don't have to wait long before he starts talking.

“I have the fuel,” he says, his voice a bit ragged from hiking through the snow non-stop. A stupid part of you feels a pang of worry at the sound of it, wishing you could provide him water to ease his sore throat. You curse yourself and choose to nod instead of verbally responding, knowing that his vambrace is projecting a clear picture of you in front of him. The tension begins to build up the longer you sit on call with him, and you pray to the make that it will be over soon. How in Mustafar do you expect to face this man in person? “I should be back in less than ten minutes, I need you to open up the ramp.” Again, you choose to nod. Thankfully, he doesn’t say any longer than that and ends the call. You don’t realize you had been holding in a breath until it forces itself out of your lungs as soon as his helm is out of sight. 

You get right to work with what he asked you to do because that’s what you would do if you didn’t know you were a prisoner, definitely not because you wanted to be helpful. You quickly clamber back down to the hull and rush to the ramp. You had to tie knots with rope in six different places to ensure there was no way for it to come open from the outside since the locking mechanism is still busted after the pirates. You undo the first five without a thought — and then you get to the last one and realize something. The bounty puck is still sitting where you left it, out in the open for anybody to see. Panicked, you leave the last knot secure and bolt to your disheveled cot. You scoop it up and slam your palm over the top, hoping that the holograph will go away — it does, thank the maker. Now you just need to put it back in place before Mando gets back. Of course, though, not everything can go your way.

Halfway to Mando’s bunk, you hear your name called from behind you. Your blood turns to ice in your veins and you freeze into place, expecting to feel Mando come up behind you, unable to get yourself to move. You are still stuck on the spot when you hear your name called again, and that seems to snap you out of your trance. It sounds like Mando is on the ship, he must have pulled the ramp down and snapped the last knot. Thankfully, you seem to come to your senses when you realize that he hasn’t caught you yet, and you make a mad dash to his bunk. It feels like your heart is beating in your throat as you climb in and find the drawer that had been left open. You haphazardly toss the puck in, praying it won’t go off again as you slam the drawer shut and scramble back to the edge of the bunk. 

Without looking where you’re going, you throw yourself out of the doorway expecting to feel your feet touch the floor of the hull. What you don't expect is to hit what feels like a brick wall blocking your path. Your eyes widen as you immediately realize that the brick wall you ran into is Mando’s chest plate. It seems like a century goes by before you see him step aside to allow you to climb out of the small room. For now, you decide you will keep your composure. You’re not sure if Mando knew what you were doing or not, but if it’s the latter, you intend to keep it that way. Your ears are ringing with apprehension by the time you plant your feet on the ground and look up at Mando. 

“I-i was just,” your mouth starts anxiously blabbing before you can stop it. You feel your face turn red as you find yourself at a loss for words. Mando says nothing but tilts his helmet as if urging you to continue. “I was just looking for the kid's ball,” the lie falls off your tongue fairly smoothly. There is no reason for you to be in Mando’s bunk right now, and you need to cover your tracks however you can. He still doesn’t say anything and you shift your feet, unsure of what to do now. 

“You know, t-the little metal one he’s always playing with,” clearly continuing to explain yourself was the wrong move because you’re greeted with silence once again. “Right, well I didn’t find it, obviously, so I'm just going to, uh, go back to my cot,” you point your thumb over your shoulder to the rumpled pile of blankets. Nothing, again. “Okay, um, goodnight, Mando,” you’re sweating by the time you turn to go back to your cot. Smooth. Nice going, fucknut. 

That was fucking rough, but it could have been worse. You take it as a sign that Mando is likely still oblivious to the fact that you know about the puck. Your shoulders sag in relief when you hear the sound of his bunk door shutting into place. Fuck that was close. You unfurl your blankets and set them back into place like you were getting ready to go to sleep, though you know there will be one of those until you reach Nevarro. Sure, you might not have much of a chance against Mando, but it increases at least a little bit if you’re awake if he decides the middle of the night would be a good time to cuff you and toss you in carbonite. You shiver at the thought. When the blankets are all in place, you lay down on top of them and turn to face the wall. This way, Mando will assume you’re asleep as per usual, and you will be able to hear if he tries to sneak up on you. A few minutes later, you hear Mando come out of his bunk and mumble something about ‘fueling up’ before exiting the Crest once again.

About ten minutes after that, you feel a gust of cold wind as Mando comes back inside. You listen as he makes his way up the ladder and then turns the generator off in favor of the actual heat. It gets warmer almost immediately, and it makes it a little easier to relax. Before you know it, you feel the Crest being suspended into the air and then a slight dip in temperature, letting you know that you’re finally back in hyperspace. You allow yourself to cry as you get settled in. 

****

When Mando finally comes back down from the cockpit the sound of him jumping off the last rung startles you. You hadn’t realized you had almost fallen asleep, but you’re glad the sound snapped you out of it before it was too late. When he starts walking, his footsteps sound like they're coming your way, and you turn around to face him. His pace falters when you move, clearly not expecting it — which is exactly what you had hoped for. He stops a few feet from where you lay, and you look up at him, your heart racing. You sit up slowly and glance at his hands to make sure they’re empty. When you look back up at his helmet, you notice that his body language seems different.

Maybe this is it, he knows that you know, and he’s going to lock you away. You probably left something out of place in the bunk and gave yourself away, that’s the end of that. You’ll wake up in a cell, alone for the rest of your life. You try to quell the panic that swells in your chest and remain calm. Maybe he doesn’t really know and he just came to tell you something insignificant. Fuck, he wouldn’t do that. You’re screwed. You want to trust him so badly, but you know you can’t. You need to hold your ground whatever happens. 

He takes another step toward you and you lean back a bit, subconsciously trying to stay as far away from him as possible — though half of you still wants to fling yourself into his arms. You wait for him to say something, averting your gaze as you fiddle with a frayed edge on one of your blankets, but he never does. Assuming he’s waiting for eye contact, you look back up, but he only looks at you for a few seconds before nodding once and turning around. You watch in stunned silence until he disappears back into his bunk.

****

The three days it took to get to Nevarro went by surprisingly fast. You had managed somehow to avoid Mando pretty much the entire time, though that might have something to do with the fact that he stayed locked in his bunk for most of the trip. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that he was trying to avoid you just as much as you were trying to avoid him, but that doesn’t make any sense when you think about it. If anything, he should be trying to keep a better eye on you, with you being his bounty and all. You honestly have no idea why you’re still roaming the ship. If it were you, you would have locked the bounty up at the first opportunity you got. It seems like it would be so much easier to know that the target is secured. Whatever, you aren’t tied up or frozen in carbonite, so nobody’s going to hear you complain.

At least this way you get to play with the kid. You haven’t let him out of your sight since he had gotten into Mando’s bunk and revealed the puck. This way, you get to spend as much time as you can with him before you have to inevitably say goodbye — and you can be sure that he won’t dig up the puck again. You figure if Mando figured out that you knew about it, he would have you in cuffs before you could blink. So far though, you haven’t given him a good reason, or opportunity for that matter, to do so. You have been pretty good about that, at the very least. You had kept up your plan of not sleeping surprisingly well. You go to your cot every night like you would normally, but instead of resting your eyes, you would think of something to keep your brain busy. 

Most of the time you would use the time to continue plotting your escape. The safest way to do things, little improvements, how you would get off-world, where you would go when you did, things like that. Sometimes, when you got bored of that,  you would think about a memory from your childhood or make up a story in your head. Once you even let yourself indulge in imagining a fantasy where Mando had you locked in cuffs under different circumstances.

 That was when you really realized how exhausted you were. How could you still be attracted to the man who is planning on turning you in? Ignorantly, that's how. You keep scolding yourself for the way your stomach flutters every time you see him but it never seems to help. It's almost like your heart hasn’t caught up with the situation at hand. You keep unintentionally holding on to the scrap of hope that this is all just some misunderstanding. Unfortunately, the rational part of you knows that it’s not. You want to hate that part but you listen to it nonetheless. 

You’re lying on your cot when you feel the Crest touch down on Nevarro. Upon feeling the jolt, you scramble to your feet and begin checking your belongings. You had collected a good amount of stuff since boarding the Crest, but you only had room for a few articles of clothing and a couple of ration packs. You quickly stuff the clothes into your bag and run to the kitchenette to grab a few packs, determined to get it all done before Mando comes back down from the cockpit. You don’t look at what you're grabbing as you put them into your sack, only making sure that you leave enough for it not to look suspicious if Mando decides to check the stash before leaving. 

You’re back on your cot, thank the maker, by the time he comes back down to the hull. Your heart is pounding and you can barely hear through the rush in your ears, but you manage to look calm — as calm as you can anyway. It seems good enough for Mando because he ignores you, as usual, and goes to his cot to retrieve the kid. Once he is out of sight, you look at the ramp, wondering if you should chance it now. If you opened it, it would be loud enough to alert Mando and there is no way he won’t catch you if he realizes what you’re doing so soon. You don’t get much of a chance to consider it anyway because he’s back out in the hull before you can properly plan an out. 

“I’m going to go meet with Karga.” You nod at him, watching as he hands the kit a piece of dried Bantha meat. “I need you to stay on the ship while I’m gone, there will be a crew coming to retrieve the bounties from the carbonite chambers, but nobody else should bother you.” You nod again, slightly confused by the fact that he’s practically giving you a warning. “I need to hear you say it, it’s important that you understand that you have to stay here.” 

“Okay, Mando, I’ll stay on the ship.” You hope to the maker that your voice sounds convincing enough for him to leave it alone. It does. Mando nods before pressing a button on his vambrace to open the ramp. He doesn’t spare you a last glance as he walks down the gangway and closes it behind him. The breath of relief you let out when you’re left alone is almost loud enough to make you jump. You only wait until you can be sure Mando is far enough away from the ship to not be able to hear you open the ramp before you slip away.

**** Thank you for reading!!

[spacecatbowtie]

I know why - path 2: Dark Din

Interactive story (Path 2 of 3)

Base story | Path 1: Dom Din | Path 3: Dark Din | Path 3: Sweet Din

After the base story, this is one of the endings. Dark Din.

Warnings: Explicit MDNI 18+

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Chapter word count: 4k

AO3

Tags: #Angst #Smut #Porn With Plot #Mando needs to work on his communications skills #unprotected p in v #Fingering #First POV #no mention of oc name #No use of y/n #I hate y/n #OC wants to be taken care of #OC wants to be independent #kinda forced proximity #Exhibitionism #Interactive #Daddy Dom Din Djarin #sweet din #switch Din #Mando only cares about himself (or does he?)

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

I jerk my hand out of his grasp. "Don't pretend to have empathy all of a sudden.. bounty hunter."

Calling him by the name of his profession, seems to kick him into his feral mode again. Because as soon as the attempt of degrading insult left my lips, it is followed by a pathetic squeal, as his hand shoots up to grab my neck and draw me closer.

"Damned girl" He grunts "You always mess up. You always manage to get yourself in trouble don't you?"

With big eyes I look at him, no sensible thought is able to form in my head.

"Just like you are now." His voice is almost purring.

His other hand slips to my waist. Although I try to act angry, I can't hide the reaction of my body to his touch. I think he can feel me shaking, how tense I am. There is something about him, the feelings for him are boiling over right now. He is so dominant, he's never acted this way towards me before. It is hard to hide the smile that creeps up on my lips, thinking about how much I like it.

"The way you look at me, so strong, yet so fragile." while his hand remains at my throat, his thumb strokes my jaw. almost as if to emphasise how sweet and fragile he thinks I am. "That is the other reason I don't take you with me anymore. You distract me."

He forces my head up, making me look at the emotionless visor that stares down at me. My eyes wander down his helmet, to his neck and shoulders. From this position, I can see how broad he really is. The hand leaves my throat, and goes on to caress my hair. He lets his fingers slip through the strands, my eyes roll back from how good it feels, this lightest bit of affection.

Suddenly his fingers grasp the hair against my skull, he pulls and holds, keeping my neck exposed to him. The sudden roughness takes me off guard, and I have to bite on my lip to keep myself from moaning.

"You love this, don't you? Don't brand me a freak when you are getting off on this"

How does he know me so well? This is the first time in ages since he touched me, and the touches before had only been friendly, if It wasn't even less personal.

"Yes, I like it." I can't bring myself to care how pathetic I sound. I just need him to take care of this burning feeling in my stomach and between my legs.

As if he can read my mind, one of his hands trace a ghostly soft path over my clothes to down there. He stops at the bone, right above where I actually want him. "Tell me what it is you want."

I open my eyes, I did not realized had closed. How do I respond to a question this direct? I feel warmth rush to my cheeks and neck. "I want.. I want you to touch me. More please?"

"No." He shakes his head "Tell me clearly what you want. Do you want me?"

My breath hitches, my face getting even hotter.

"Okay, yes.. I really want to have sex with you right now."

"Good."

Suddenly I am no longer facing him. He had spun me around in a split-second, and before I can get my bearings, he has shoved my pants down to my thighs. I try to turn to him when his hands leave my body, he is fumbling with the closing on his pants I think. But then a rough hand between my shoulder blades, push me against the wall again. while this one big hand stays there, his other arm hooks in front of my hips. The arm pulls my thighs from the wall, and towards him. I try to get comfortable in this arched position, but I stop moving when I feel something warm against my entrance.

"You are so wet for me" He states in his deep raspy voice. "Such a good, sweet girl"

I don't know why his praise has such a big effect on me. My whole body is in flames, and my legs almost give out.

He moves his tip through my wet folds. The intimate sensation makes a soft whimper escape through my lips. This makes him chuckle darkly, before lining up and shoving his whole shaft inside me in one thrust. The sound I let out is now more of a cry. The stretch is so intense, and he is so thick. As a reflex on the stinging pain, I withdraw from him. But he isn't having any of that. He pulls me to him again. He shoves me further back on his dick.

Then he pulls out all the way again, leaving me feeling empty and quivering on nothing. I press the side of my face to the cool but rough wall for support. The hand on my back leaves, before pressing against my head, pushing my face further into the wall. He slams inside me again, deeper than he was before.

How deep can he go? I wonder, while trying to hold in the sounds of pleasure. It hurts, but it's the good kind of hurt.

"Take it. you will take what I give you" He whispers against my ear. The modulator barely picks it up, so it sounds more raspy and Inhuman than normal. But in some way this makes me even wetter. I can feel it lubricating his shaft with each thrust. Every time he plunges into me it goes a little easier, gradually turning the sharp pain into a deep pleasure.

The pace he picks up is slow and deep at first. I feel the rim of the tip, and every vein against my slick walls. His grip on my hips is firm. Even if I wanted to move with him, I would not be able to.

The harsh terrain of the beige stucco wall digs in the skin of my cheeks and jaw. But I can't bring myself to care, while this bittersweet feeling is taking over in my lower stomach. With every teasing thrust he gives, a new wave of the warm feeling flows through my weak legs. It is difficult to keep a steady grip on the wall, my hands slip as I try to reach for something that would make me feel secure. The only thing that keeps me steady is him, his body, his hands, his mind.

Through heavy ragged breathing, he speaks again. "You wanted to leave? I would never let you leave me, I won't allow it." He stops and pulls out, so that just the tip touches my entrance.

I protest with a whine. "Don't stop please!" Is the only thing I am hopefully able to express clear enough. I try to look back at him, but his hand is still pressing in my face. He notices, and turns his hand so a gloved thumb can caress my lips. The fabric is a little worn and smells like iron and of course the hide of an animal it came from. I wonder what kind of animal, are the orange tips dyed or was the skin that colour to begin with?

An almost caring sounding voice distracts me. "sweet girl,-" my bottom lip drops at the heat that his voice brings me. The thumb that had been exploring it, pushes in my mouth without falter. The grip is almost painfully tight. With the hold he has on me now, he angles my head back. only my arms and chest can keep me against the wall.

The arch I'm in is even deeper now, and I can still feel him softly pressing against my wet core.

"I will always find you. There is no place in the galaxy you can hide from me. Do you understand?" Even before I nod my head as best I can at this angle, he starts moving again. "Good girl." slowly he pushes inside me. even he can't suppress the grunt when his last inch settles inside my wet warmth.

"I am going to fuck you hard. I bet you like that, I know you like that naughty girl." His pace picks up. Before I know it, my soft moans can't keep up with the rhythm of his hips anymore. "You like being fucked against the wall, dont you?" His voice is deep and warm with lust and desperation to finish. "I bet you like getting railed out in the open."

My eyes roll back from the pleasure that starts to build up in the place his dick rams inside of me. The thumb in my mouth prevents me from being able to swallow. Drool drips down his leather gloves and onto my chest.

"Dirty woman, you can't help but make a mess out of us." His pace gets even faster, he must be getting close.

The hand around my waist goes to where his dick is ruining me. with two fingers, he slowly starts teasing the swollen bud there. On the first touch, an involuntary shock rushes through me. He has to tighten his grip to prevent my knees from buckling.

"That's right, cum for me." I try to move my hips to get more friction, but his grip is sturdy, and his fingers keep on giving me light teasing touches.

His whole body encapsulates mine, I feel him everywhere. The hard beskar presses against my soft skin in a delicious agonising way.

Suddenly I hear hushed voices from the end of the alley. "..hear it from across this part a'town!"

It makes me freeze and I try to turn my head towards the sounds, but the finger in my mouth prevents it. "Mando!" I mumble through his thumb, trying to make him aware of the potenial threat. He does not seem affected and continues pushing inside my body with every thrust.

Moving shadows appear in the direction of the sounds. "Someon's comig!" I try to push him off me, but again he does not budge or even acknowledge my panic. Two figures, swaying and stumbling, appear from the darkness.

Finally Mando comes to a stop, still buried deep inside me. I don't know if it's my imagination, but it feels like he moves his body to shield mine from view. The thumb leaves my mouth and moves away.

One of the figures points at us. "Oii I told you some bitch was getting fucked here!" Excitedly he nudes his companion.

The other is just as enthusiastic and calls. "Ey mate, save some of that whore for -"

Then a flash of light and and a deafening sound before the yelling man falls to the ground.

"AAhh what the fuck man!" The other yells, and tries to run back in the direction he came from. A mandalorian however, is deadly quick. The close to drunk guy did not make it farther than a few steps, before joining the faith of his friend. Both with a smoking hole in their carcass.

The blaster gets put back in its holster, and the gloved hand takes hold on the side of my waist to flip me around.

It takes a few seconds for me to realize what had happened. "You killed them, Mando."

This is not like him. He would never. He wouldn't just kill somebody without them being a threat to me or him. I push at his chest, not taking my eyes of the two bodies that are but shadows in the dark alley. A passer by would probably not even notice them.

My pathetic attempt to shove him away does nothing of course. Instead he cups my face with surprising gentle hands and makes me face him. Cold terror runs from my head to my chest and I try to pull his hands away, the hands that just ended two lives. The motionless figures keep a hold on my gaze, I cant pull away from the sight. Once alive, and forever motionless now. They will never take a breath again, never speak, never walk.

Finally the hands let go. Then loud crack followed by a stinging pain in my cheek. My eyes focus on him. He had slapped me.

"Don't look at them, look at me."

I don't try to fight him when he lifts me up by my thighs, and guides my legs around himself. "Hold on." He tells me. Without hesitation I wrap my legs tightly around his waist, and do the same with my arms around his neck. His body is warm. It feels nice in contrast to the cooling evening air.

My cheek still stings, but the sudden pain had ripped me from the spiraling thoughts.

Despite the fact that he is obviously taken over by lust and want, he is still in control. His movements are rushed but disciplined. That is why it appears deliberate that my back and skull hit the wall rather hard, when he pushes my body against the stone bricks. "I am the only one that can have you, I am the only one that can see you."

This is so wrong, he is insane. I should try to fight him, i should yell for help. However, I can't deny how thrilled this makes me. Although I know it is wrong and that he does not act like himself, I can't deny how much this excites me. The adrenaline runs through my veins, and the lust mixed with fear takes over any other rational thought.

In what way is he going to ruin me now?

That question is soon answered when he unexpectedly slips inside me again. The delightful pressure is back. It shoots a tingling feeling from our contact point to my toes, which curl in ecstasy. The high-pitched sounds I make may be heard across town, but I don't care anymore. Somebody might find us again, but it only adds to the thrill.

"Finally I can feel your warm, wet cunt again." He fucks me slow, almost teasing. "Next time somebody decides to disrupt us again, I will keep fucking you while I silence them. I will keep on using your tight little hole while I ensure they regret looking at what belongs to me."

The things he says are morbid and wrong, but they turn me on so bad. He makes me feel like I am the only one that matters for him, the only one he will ever want. His thrusts gradually get harder and deeper, making me feel filled to the max. The wall might have a dent in it from how hard he fucks me in the stone. Surely my whole body will be sore tomorrow.

It all gets too much, I am all over the place, bits and pieces of me disperse like the a blaster bolt against Mando's beskar. I want to tell him to slow down, but nothing but whines and the start of sentences leave my lips.

My eyes are aimed up towards the sky, but are non seeing due to the other overwhelming senses. am sure I will never ever be satisfied with anything but him buried inside me. A painful grip on my jaw forces me to face him, his fingers squish my cheeks together. "No. Eyes on me. I want to see what I do to you."

I try my best to obey and keep my attention on him, I try to keep my eyelids from falling shut while he gives me more pleasure than I can handle.

Suddenly his thumb is on my clit, making me jolt. He lets out a moan from the sudden movement. "I want you to come while I'm inside you." Too lightly he starts rubbing me.

The circles he starts are almost painfully soft. Too soft. "I need more." Bucking my hips I try to feel more, to itch that deep need inside.

"Beg me for it."

A frustrated cry from me makes him laugh darkly. "I can keep on going all night, but I know you won't."

"Please, Mando." Tears start to roll down my face from frustration and exhaustion. "I will do anything you want, I will do anything you want while I am with you, just please let me cum."

He gives a little more pressure, and the movement of his finger gets faster. Instantly I feel the warmth building up to my orgasm. I need it so bad. "Please don't stop! please.." My body trembles and shocks while growing closer.

His movements get more persistent, and his heavy breaths turn into low grunts. He enjoys feeling me struggle for release. The thumb movement decreases.

"No! NO! Please let me cum." I try to rub my clit with my own fingers, but he holds me so closely against him, that I can't move my hand close enough.

The movement of his hand stops completely, just as the movement of the rest of his frame. He pushes his body firmly against me, his dick pulses inside me. He is cuming. He is cuming inside me, against the wall in an abandoned alley. This filthy thought makes my muscles tense, and at last, I fall over the edge of my own orgasm.

It lasts a long time. Longer than I've ever experienced. I can't feel my body. The only thing that is real in this moment is me and the bursting of the fruit of desire, desperation and heat. That is what it feels like anyway.

As the feeling slowly subsides, the world around me does too.

The blackness gradually disappears. My senses are coming back. I feel like I am floating back in my body, having returned from paradise.

I notice that I still can't feel the ground beneath my feet, but I can feel pressure on my stomach and ribs. Every other second, my body bounces a little. Blinking my eyes a few times, i attempt to regain my sight. The only thing I see is darkness.

Only after a while do I realize, I am being carried on a broad shoulder. "Mando?" My voice sounds weak and drained, like I just woke up from a deep sleep.

"You were not responding for a few minutes." He states."I am going back to the ship. Bounty is long gone by now."

"Oh" Is the only thing I can think of to say. My anger rises again and I would demand for him to put me down again, but my legs are still shaking. Both physically and mentally I'm drained, so I let him carry me back to the place I swore never to come back to again.

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

Base story | Path 1: Dom Din | Path 2: Dark Din | Path 3: Sweet Din

Let me know what u think! Which of the 3 paths did you like more? <3

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 1 - Post #1: Dinner Plans

The first installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem Reader

Total word count: 2.7K (of 25K total in Volume 1)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, *NSFW*

______________________________________________

I. “No.” He responds dully, without pause. “Absolutely not.”

One of the more overlooked advantages of the Mandalorian’s helmet is that he so rarely has to explain himself. 

Sure, you can’t see the look of disapproval in his eyes. And maybe he doesn’t bother glaring at you from under the Beskar.

He doesn't have to.

Because staring into that inscrutable black view plate, wondering what the fuck he could be thinking, just—inevitably—draws out your insecurities like the pull of some collapsing star. 

Without ever picking up the rifle, most people simply disintegrate on the spot.

“Um, what?!” Nito, balks. “We haven’t even laid out the plan for you, Mando!” 

Fortunately, your crewmate is immune to the Mandalorian’s silent treatment. Which is why he’s the one doing the talking. While you are coaxing a fussy toddler into eating more dietary fiber. 

Nito’s stunned disbelief at his genius being so casually brushed aside is a little heart-wrenching to watch, though. Frankly, you didn't think the bounty hunter would let him get past, ‘Something we’d like to discuss with you...’ before walking out of the cantina. 

Problem is, there’s no other, better time for this conversation. You’ve reached a sort of now-or-never inflection point.

“Maker! You could at least hear us out.” The Ardennian rolls his eyes upward as though he might actually receive intervention from a higher power.  

Mando turns his head to look at you, and that rough, wry voice broadcasts through the modulator. “Surprised you’d want to get mixed up in this?” 

Haze from the overhead fluorescent lights glints off his burnished helmet.

“Thought you had better sense,” he says pointedly. “Maybe not.” 

W-w-what?

He probably meant that as some offhand joke—but why should that stop you from grasping for deeper meaning? This revelation that, somehow, despite his seeming lack of interest in anything beyond your job responsibilities, the Mandalorian has come to … know you? That, maybe, despite all those times you felt invisible, in reality, he’s been making this quiet study of you, and... 

And, yes, it is pathetic how much your heart flutters just hearing him admit that he thinks about you at all.

“Exactly!” Nito raises all four arms in exasperation. “You trust Thuli, right? We went through every step together. She helped me plan the whole thing!”

You manage a weak smile that belies the shameful horror of, ‘That’s right, I sure did.’

In your lap, the child squirms, grunting in disgust as you press another spongy cube of bean curd between his reluctant little lips.

Erenada! When did you get sweet on Mando? And how did you not anticipate this very predictable outcome of falling for a man you can’t have as soon as he needed saving?

Isn’t this, in no small part, why you’re glad to have left the Medical Corps? Fucking every shock-trooper with a cute face who landed on your operating table before they inevitably died in combat or redeployed. 

“Let’s get something straight,” Mando’s temper flares. “This,” his leather finger traces a circle between the four of you, all huddled around the greasiest bar table in the galaxy, “Is not a crew. We are not a team. There is no vote. I employ you both to ensure that I,” he taps his chest plate, “can focus on the jobs that I take.”

Mmm...okay, this might be worse.

At least the Droppers offered the encouragement of a knowing smile or lingering touch. There’s been a few times you may have caught him staring—arching your back in a deep stretch or crawling on your hands and knees to pull the kid away from some imminent danger. But with the helmet on, how can you be certain? And clinging to you through a haze of painkillers doesn’t count for much.     

Except that he was so different—unguarded—in that moment. The tenderness in his voice pleading with you to stay. His arms wrapped around you. The steady beat of his heart reverberating between you. The reminder that there was a man underneath all that steel and leather.

‘Just let me hold you...’

Drugs, you remind yourself. Painkillers, and one hell of an adrenaline crash.

“We aren’t looking to take a cut, Mando!” Nito looks up at the bounty hunter from under his desperate, furrowed brow. “It’s not about the score,” he says imploringly. “We have a chance to help some people who really need it. Isn’t that a job worth taking?” 

Staring into those soft brown eyes so alight with righteous certainty, you know, truly, Nito is too pure for this galaxy. 

“And this worked on you?”

While the modulator distorts his voice, somehow, Mando's condescension is always crystal clear. 

Nito carries out whole conversations by himself, and the Mandalorian has gone days without speaking to you. Now, suddenly, everyone values your opinion? 

“Well—” you begin, inhaling in a deep breath. Convincing Mando to take Ubaa Dir’s commission had been Nito's job. You were just supposed to keep the kid occupied. 

But before you can get out another word, Mando points a gloved finger in the Ardennian’s face. “You are a mechanic, and she is a glorified nursemaid. Neither of you is qualified to engineer a heist against an intergalactic conglomerate.”

Your head snaps back as if slapped. Nursemaid? The sting of hearing him call you that is mortifying. Maybe this is what he really thinks of you... 

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Your champion, Nito, just instinctively comes to your defense. “First of all, how dare you, Mando? Thuli is a veteran. And second…Hell, after she sucked that Raquor'daan venom out of your leg? She straight-up saved your life!” 

Even in the dingy light of this dive, you can see your cheeks turn bright red in the reflection of his Beskar. Guess you should have kept that harrowing little detail to yourself. Cohabitating the smallest ship in the universe with your patients probably requires more discretion when drunkenly recounting ‘thrilling tales of emergency medicine.’ 

Thank the gods, your dimwitted smile is still plastered onto your face, or your jaw would have dropped open. You will never forgive Nito for this! 

“I get you blowing me off. Fine. But, surely you owe Thuli a chance to speak?” 

If the Mandalorian is similarly flushed with the memory of you ripping open his pants while he vomited all over the cargo hold, you wouldn’t know it. 

“No. I don’t,” he says flatly, resting an elbow on the table. “I pay her. It’s an exchange of money for services. That’s how employment works.”

‘What can I do to make you stay?’ he’d asked. Ugh, you are such a fool for thinking–hoping–he might remember that part.

The Ardennian folds both pairs of arms over his chest. “Well, seeing as how you can’t pay our wages right now, I guess we’re having this conversation on more equal footing.” 

Brushing the goop from your fingers, you place a hand in warning on the back of Nito's neck as the Mandalorian draws himself up in his seat, squaring those gleaming shoulders against the escalating tension. 

You’ve seen hardened criminals piss their pants, receiving this kind of intimidation from Mando. Instead, Nito shifts in his seat to look at you.

“Stop that!” Outraged, he slaps your hand away, “I can tell when you’re messing around in my head, you know.”

The baby chooses this moment to stand up in your lap and push his plate of bean curd off the table. "Whoah there, mister!"

As you reach down to pick up the mess, a many-legged creature crawls out from between the dusty floor tiles to snatch the wobbly globs of bean curd in its mandibles. The second its antenna brushes your fingertips, you scream like a hysterical coward.

All anger forgotten, Nito pulls your hand back out of reach. And despite knowing the image of that glossy, undulating body is going to haunt your sleep for weeks, the damsel in distress routine is too good an opportunity to waste. You take advantage of the momentary skin contact to lower his blood pressure. 

If only you could do the same with the Mandalorian. But, there’s not an inch of him uncovered. And the Beskar is impervious to everything, including your powers.

There's just no getting past that helmet.

“Hey,” Mando snaps at the child. “Mind your manners.” 

“Uuuuuuuuwaaaa!” 

All too aware that cuteness is his best defense, the kid tilts his head and blinks those enormous orb-like eyes. Blessed Mother, this kid knows how to play your heartstrings like the fucking valachord. 

“Since when are you a picky eater?” Wrapping an arm around his middle, you pull the child back into your lap, a gleeful stream of giggles erupting when you whisper into his ear, “I’ve seen you slurp down mudscuffers, kiddo.” 

Mando shakes his head, releasing a staticky sigh. “You’re rewarding this kind of behavior?” 

“Hmmm...always,” and you wink at the bounty hunter before you can stop yourself. 

Which—you have really gotta quit doing that. 

It's just in your nature to shake his self-seriousness. And while most people ate it up since being a shameless flirt made for the ideal bedside manner, the Mandalorian remains wholly invulnerable to your charm. That, and the man wielded awkward silences like a weapon. 

But before the uncomfortable stare-down can commence, Nito is determined to have the last word. “Okay, Mando, you don’t want to hear the moral appeal? How about the fact that we need that commission!” 

“The air filtration system and pressure seals all got trashed in the sandstorm. The booster, the compression coil,” he begins ticking off fingers, and with twenty of them, you know this list could encompass a whole range of equipment the Razor Crest is in desperate need of repairing. “The bounty on those spice runners you’ve got in carbonite isn’t going to cover it all. And that’s if we could make it to Llanic to collect—which we can’t,” he points a furry blue finger upward, "Because to get off this rock anytime soon, we have to make it through the atmosphere.” 

Bleh, a wave of nausea roils through you, remembering the sensation of your bowels loosening in terror at the sudden loss of gravity amidst an angry chorus of alarms and shouting as you white-knuckled the landing on Sriluur. 

“I’ll have enough for the repairs after tonight,” is the extent of the Mandalorian’s reply.

It’s been, what, two days? Since the last time he almost died?

“Mando," you whisper. "We can get the money another way.” 

He looks at you sharply, surprised by the earnest concern in your voice. “The prize money from the Arena should cover the parts, with enough fuel to make it to Llanic. I only have to win a few matches.” 

Your voice exclaiming, “A few?!” is just barely audible over Nito’s snorting, “So you’re really gonna do it, huh?”

“Enough!” The bounty stands up forcefully, sending stool legs clattering. He knocks his leather fist on the table.

It’s very distracting that your nipples tighten every time he growls like that. Something about how cold and rough his voice gets. Ooof!

“Listen, both of you,” he snarls. “I am the captain. The ship is my responsibility. If I wanted your advice, I'd ask for it.”

And with that, Mando stalks away from the alcove towards the door.

When he passes your seat, he stops to loom over you. “Don’t forget we made a deal,” he says gruffly, and your nipples pinch a little tighter. 

Leaning back in your chair, you watch him leave the cantina, the other patrons jumping out of his path to the exit.

“Well,” you place both hands over your face to hide the rising color in your cheeks and flash Nito a smile from between your steepled fingers. “It was worth a shot.” 

“My responsibility…” Nito says mockingly, sticking out his chest. “He’s taking this one hard, eh?” 

“Yes!” You raise your voice emphatically. “Which is why you shouldn’t have made a snarky comment about it.”

It wasn’t the first time the Mandalorian had returned from a hunt empty-handed. Sometimes, the target died before he reached them, their fob suddenly going silent. Others were killed in reckless attempts to escape capture without enough of them left to collect on the bounty. Mando’s latest quarry, Lady Razz al-Hanor, had opted to throw herself off a cliff.

A once-powerful warlord, Hanor had fled into the Sriluurian badlands as soon as she realized the Hutts planned to oust her for some other despot. Mando was hired to deliver her back to the cartel alive, but it wasn’t losing out on the bounty that had the Mandalorian so bitter. 

No, it was the needless sense of guilt eating at him.

After taking the job, he’d been ambushed by a band of Weequay warriors looking to join him in the hunt for Lady Razz. To the Hutts, al-Hanor was simply a loose end that needed to be tied up. They had no interest in holding her accountable for a lifetime of brutal oppression. So, Mando was their last hope to confront Lady Razz before she was summarily tossed into a rancor pit.

And, of course, he agreed to help them. 

But any information about the Weequay who’d disappeared under her reign passed with her into the next world. Facing the prospect of being held accountable to her victims, al-Hanor jumped into a ravine. Mando nearly died himself trying to recover the body, but the bounty hunter refused the Weequays’ offer of reward. Instead, he told them to put the money towards a renewed search for their loved ones. 

And the fucking gallantry is why it’s impossible to stay mad at him. Mando could be at once both callously insensitive and profoundly honorable. It was infuriating.

“Should've known you’d end up saving his ass again.” Nito sneers, picking the plate off the floor as you wipe the kid’s face with the edge of your shirt. “What’s your cut for helping Mando survive the Arena?”

“I’m the new captain of the Razor Crest,” you pronounce with an air of exaggerated authority. 

“Getting stuck with us and a broken down ship?” he laughs. “You’re a terrible negotiator.” 

Tilting your head down, you pause to watch the kid tugging on the rivets of your jacket, his ears folded in concentration. “Come on, now. I’d be lost in this galaxy without the weight of you two on my back.” 

How long had it taken for Nito and the kid to form the very center of your universe? And let’s be honest, you were immediately captivated by the Mandalorian the minute he walked through your door. This fearsome warrior of legend, who'd somehow come to serve as the guardian for a tiny infant and a furry teenager. “Mando would never say it, but I know he feels the same way.” 

“Did you miss the part where we got chewed out for insubordination?” 

“Oh, Nito. Mando would have thrown you out of the airlock long ago if he didn’t have a soft spot for you.”

“Thanks for that reassurance, I guess?”

“Sharing the ship, flying with us...remember, it’s an adjustment for him.” 

It’s only been a few months, but sometimes it felt like you’d already spent a lifetime together onboard the Crest. Except, the longer Mando was gone on a job, the harder it was for him to fall back into the rhythm of domestic life. “Once he makes a decision, he’s not used to having someone else around, asking him to explain its logic.” 

Typically, the Mandalorian responded to skepticism or questions like any other barrier to achieving his will. Your concerns were just something else in his way. 

“Remember that you don't always have to make excuses for him.” Fucking, Nito. Voice still hadn’t dropped, yet he’s obviously far wiser than you. “Besides, I’m the one who has your back, Thuli. You should take my side.”

“Trying to de-escalate your confrontation with our boss, a professional killer? Believe me, I have your best interest in mind, buddy.” You stroke the downy fur atop his head before pushing back from the table.

“Ok, but don’t do it by tinkering with my brain chemistry.” He jumps down from his stool on two short, bowed legs.

“I would never do that,” you lie, winking at him. “It's unethical.”

Nito glowers up at you. “Sure thing. Just put those gloves back on, Doctor Baqri.”

Gathering yourselves and the kid, you leave the cantina with far less menace and theatrics than the Mandalorian.

************************

Read the next post - Post #2: Dark Alley Staff Meeting

Go Back to Volume 1 - All posts

[go-learn-esperanto]

wait THAT'S what um contra ou outro is about😭 oh my god

For reference this is the song anon is referencing

This is how I described it: "The singer says you should stop playing video games because she wants to beat you up with her bare hands".

I'd say the actual meaning is probably better described as, I'm not kidding, "Go touch grass" however that will leave out the fact that she does indeed challenge the "you" in the song to an IRL fight.

I will put you a part of the lyrics here and then translate them for you

PT:

Anda Mostra o que vales Tu nesse jogo Vales tão pouco Troca de vício Por outro novo Que o desafio É corpo a corpo Escolhe a arma A estratégia que não falha O lado forte da batalha Põe no máximo poder Dou-te a vantagem Tu com tudo E eu sem nada Que mesmo assim desarmada Vou-te ensinar a perder

ENG:

Come

Show me what you're capable of

In that game

You're worth very little

Trade that addiction

For a new one

That the challenge

Is a brawl*

You choose the weapon

The strategy that never fails

The strongest side of the battle

Put the power on max

I give you the advantage

You with everything

And me with nothing

That even disarmed

I'm gonna teach you how to lose

So "corpo a corpo" is surprisingly difficult to translate. In this sense she is challenging the "you" to an IRL fight. I've seen some translations to wrestling or grappling but what it's meant to convey here is that she's basically saying "You wanna go? You wanna fucking go???? I'm gonna kick your pathetic ass"

The amount of Deolinda song where Ana, the singer, threatens physical violence on somebody is way more than you'd expect and she absolutely gives a very intimidating presence. I never thought of it that much before but she's one of the only people I know capable of making you believe only by singing that if she got her hands on you she'd rip you to pieces.

The song Fado Toninho is my favourite instance of this where you get the impression that you're not sure if she really wants to fuck the guy or do the equivalent of this:

Like, this is a love song, but the lyrics look like this

PT:

De peito feito ele ginga o passo Arregaça as mangas e escarra pra o lado Anda lá, ó meu cobardolas! Vem cá mano a mano! Eu faço e aconteço Eu posso, eu mando!

ENG:

Showing his chest he readies his step

He puts up his sleeves and spits to the side

Come here, you coward!

Let's go you and me!

I make it happen, I'm the moment, I'm in command!

(If you translate directly the last part doesn't say I'm the moment but she's basically using a bunch of expression that convay that she's the boss around these parts)

The literal last sentence of the song is "Se não me seguram dou cabo de ti" which means "If nobody holds me I'm gonna destroy you".

And she vocalises it so perfectly. The way she sings "Eu mando!" (I'm the one in command) it more of a "EU MANDO!!!" as she puts so much emphasis on it. She is the essence of these emojis 😊🥰😘💪🤬💀🚑. She IS the girlboss.

[solusmandalor]

The armored suit absorbs the impact of his prey's insistent shots and while he can feel welts already forming from taking bullets from such a close range, Din follows, stalking behind with all the grace and patience of a wolf sure in his victory.

“Look,” the mark says, when he notices that he'd wasted his bullets on the Beskar steel. “Maybe we can come to an understanding, Mando.” A pathetic attempt at bribery.

Din lets him think he’s won his attention anyway. “How much do they pay you? I will double, no, triple the amount!”

Din clenches his jaw against the disgust that burns at the back of his throat. “What do you say, Mando? I mean, come on... I am sure you've got a heart left for-”

“I’ve also got a gun,” he interrupts and before his target can cobble some pathetic excuse together or draw a knife on him, the Mandalorian is pointing the barrel of his weapon at the man’s face and saying: “No.” The mark struggles against him. They all do.

Din takes him in cold and leaves him dying in the middle of Boba’s garage, lifeless eyes staring up at the very owner and mob boss that had hired him. Din leaves. Unsullied, unbroken.

He’s vaguely aware of being handed a bag on his way out and is sent home much richer than before, but it’s a vague memory, swept away by the adrenaline still pounding through his veins. The ride back home on his bike is lost to him, and by the time his boots hit the ground once more he's twitchy and wound up. Din had hoped the fight would have exhausted him more, taken more from him so he wouldn't return this way, but the mark was easy— easier than he expected. It leaves him restless, itching to do something as he ascends the steps of his home and slips inside the little apartment, helmet pulled off.

“He’s not asleep yet?” Din wonders as he enters the living room area, only to see his son still wide awake watching yet another frog documentary with his occasional babysitter Kuill. “He wouldn't go to bed. Insisted on waiting for you, no matter what”, the older man explains. He had offered to look after the child for Din once in a while, even though Din had never actually told him about his rather dubious night job, Kuill seemed to know more than he let on, and much less cared about details.

With a slow shake of his head, Din sighs as he places his helmet on a nearby table. “Kid, we talked about this.”

It’s only when Din’s armor is shining in the light reflected from the TV screen that the little boy finally pries his eyes off it and squeals at the sight of him.

Grogu is scurrying to climb down off the edge of the couch, little legs carrying him as fast as they can toward Din, a toothy grin on his face. The Mandalorian drops to his knees, ignoring the way the tiles bite at his joints as Grogu crashes into his chest, babbling and cooing and little hands grabbing at his shoulders. Din laughs softly, near dizzy with relief, and he lifts Grogu a bit higher, letting the child tenderly frame his face in his small hands.

“Even frogs need their sleep”, he reminds the toddler with a nudge of his head, referencing the documentary still running in the background of their scarcely decorated living room. The child pouts at him. “But I missed you”, he signs, fingers letting go of Din’s cheeks to gesture with his hands how much he'd really missed his father.

“I…”, Din starts and swallows down a sudden lump in his throat, voice tight with emotion. “I am here now, Grogu.”

Behind them, Kuill stands up and makes his way to the door, grunting a swift goodbye. “I'll go see myself out.”

“Wait”, Din calls and poins to the little bag in the corner he's brought with him from his hunt. “Please. Take some.” But the elderly man just shakes his head, scoffing at Din’s insistence. “Dont be ridiculous.”

Din could argue more. It would probably be polite to argue some more – this kind man, took care of his precious child after all. But Grogu’s started yawning adorably in that way that takes up half his face, and Kuill huffs and gestures Din to leave it be. “Both of you could use some sleep. Good night, Djarin.”

A simple word of gratitude is all what Din manages to say when his mysterious neighbour leaves.

Grogu takes a while to go to sleep – crawling all over Din, saying Dididididi and pawing at his face, probably telling him all about what he and Kuill have been getting up to while he was away. Sometimes Grogu doesn’t know the signs and it’s at these times where he just continously babbles and talks and Din can’t do much more than listen and nod with a proud smile.

Frankly, Din doesn’t understand a word of it, but he appreciates the enthusiasm all the same. It makes something melt inside him, to lie there in the dark with the small warm weight of his kid curled up in the crook of his arm, snoozing deeply.

He drops off eventually, flat on his back, still in most of his armor, and sleeps better than he has in months.

Hours later, long after he had dimly registered the sound of the TV running, Din wakes up fully to the pattering sound of Grogu’s feet on the hardwood floor.

“Daddy?” he hears the kid say.

Din opens his eyes, but his kid is not in his eyesight. His back, though, aches like he’s slept on a rock. “Grogu,” he says, addressing the wall more than his son, “Unless you are bleeding, or something is on fire- “

“Sun up,” Grogu insists. The sun, indeed, is high up enough so that their room is lit up by the walls. He moves his head and sighs, one arm over his eyes whereas Grogu keeps saying “Sun up! Sun up!” over and over again.

He’s jumping up and down, chanting, poking at Din’s face, the frog plushie in his other hand. Din would like to get some sleep, but Grogu insists, “Wake up,” delivering another jab to his cheek and really, there’s no denying his son in the long run.

[forever-rogue]

Douse the Lights

A/N: I have no excuse for this, except I love one (1) Din Djarin and he deserves this and so do we. Enjoy! A little Happy New Year gift from me to you! As always, comments and feedback are welcomed! xx

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: SMUT (18+ only) - oral (m and f receiving), unprotected PiV, choking, degradation, creampie...filth. This is just filth. 

STUTTER SOMETHING PROFOUND (PART 2)

THE MANDALORIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then stop kriffing staring at me.”

“I wasn’t even looking in your direction.”

“You,” with a sharp turn of your head you saw that he wasn’t even near you. Nope. Not at all. 

Kriff. Awkward.

“Lothcat got your tongue, Princess?” you’d never seen his face, but Maker, you just knew there was a wicked smirk on it.

“Just mind your own business,” stowing away your clean blasters with a huff, you prayed with all your might that he couldn’t see the flush of warmth on your face or hear the crack in your voice. You hated him. Everything about him.

At least you wanted to; you would have given anything in the galaxy to. It would make constantly being around the Mandalorian that you called your employer a lot easier. 

Maybe if you kept repeating it yourself, you would manifest it to become true. That you could hate that annoying, half-witted, tin can. 

“Thought that’s what I was doing,” there was the most minute inkling of amusement in his voice as he came over, lithe and silent - ever the hunter. He was at your side in an instant, the warmth of his body contrasting sharply with the cool metal of the beskar as he sent shivers up and down your spine. Along with the low pooling of heat and desire settling in your belly, but you were going to ignore that for now.

Almost as if he knew the effect he had on you, he made it a point to brush a gloved hand over yours as he nudged you to the side to inspect some of the weapons he’d tasked you with cleaning. You had to be quick in order to shut your mouth and keep a small whimper from escaping your lips. 

How long had it been since someone last touched you? Maker, it had been….dank farrik. It had been way too long. A simple hand brush - there wasn’t even skin to skin contact - and you felt like a lothcat in heat. You really needed to get...some company and have your frustrations taken out or surely you would explode. There was no way you were to give Mando the satisfaction of knowing the type of hold he seemed to possess over you. 

Perhaps once you were out of this more than awkward conversation you could slip out for a few hours and seek some pleasure. The little one had just gone down for a nap a short bit ago, and he was likely to be out for some time. Surely he wouldn’t have a problem for a few hours. Then you could -

“These are still dirty,” was his voice always that rough and low? He had to be doing it on purpose, surely. Before you could contemplate it too much, he took one of the blasters and shoved it back into your hands. Not rough or gentle, but with enough firmness to remind that he was in charge. You looked it over and raised your eyebrows as you inspected it yourself - it was polished to an almost pristine shine, “clean them again. All of them.”

“What the fuck, Mando,” you scoffed with indignation as you rolled your eyes at him, shoving the blaster right into of the black T of his visor. You waved it almost as if to prove your point, “this is clean. I dare you to find a cleaner blaster in this Maker forsaken galaxy.”

He was quick to your grab your wrist, his grip was firm as he kept your hand from moving. You didn’t normally argue with your stoic and mysterious employer, but this was apparently new and uncharted territory. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but there was a shift between the two of you, something had changed. The tension in the air was palpable, so thick you could cut it with the dullest of knives as you stared back at him. 

“Clean it again,” it was a growl that went straight to your cunt as you subconsciously clenched your thighs at the sound. Either this was a one time deal that you would commit to memory or you were going to make it a point to annoy him more often. As he stared you down, he slowly let go of your wrist and pointed at the discarded cleaning rag, “and make sure its actually clean this time.”

“You are the worst,” you tried to retain the little bit of composure that you had remaining as you swiped the blaster back.

“And you are a brat,” brat. Brat. Brat. Brat. Of all the words available in all of the galaxy, he had to choose that one. This was absolutely on purpose. The Mandalorian never did anything without careful planning and calculating the risks. The same could be said with his words; this was all carefully and deliberately chosen. He cocked his head to the side, almost as if trying to gauge your reaction, “but here we are. Get them clean.”

“Or what?” it was a mere pathetic squeak as found yourself almost unable to meet his face.

“Just get it done.”

Without another word he strode away, as silent and dangerous as he was when he first came in. If you were stronger, if you weren’t a weak little fool, you would have looked away and focused on your work. 

But no. Not today.

Instead you watched him go, staring shamelessly at his imposing figure as he moved to disappear back into the cockpit to do whatever it was that he did. 

Was his ass always that nice? Were those thighs always so strong and sturdy? Was he always so damn broad and wide? 

Shit. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” you hissed at yourself as you picked the rag back up and slammed yourself back down on the bench in order to re-clean all the weapons that you had just done. He wanted clean weapons? You’d give him the cleanest blasters he’d ever seen. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Almost an hour had crept by when you’d finished your second round of cleaning. At this point you honestly didn’t care if the Mandalorian deemed the job satisfactory or not. The longer you had ruminated on his words, the more frustrated you became. 

Each word, each touch seemed burned into your mind as you let your imagination take over. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about him before. There had been a number of sleepless nights when you imagined it had been his hand between your thighs, his fingers running through your slick folds before they slipped inside of you. On nights when you really couldn't help yourself, you even imagined it was his cock, how he would feel buried to the hilt inside of you. You wondered what he would be like, but something - this day in particular - told that he was big. And he would get the job done.

But it wasn’t going to happen. 

Nope. No. Nah. You were just his sidekick little employee that most definitely was not going to act on any impulsive or rash decisions. You might have been a lot of things, including a huge fool in that moment, but you weren’t that stupid. You didn’t need to create some unnecessary strain in your relationship with the stoic warrior or even worse, lose your job and home and be left stranded in a forgotten corner of the galaxy. 

Even as you tried to rationalize all the ways in which acting on your impulses was a horrible idea, the frustration and the throbbing between your legs didn't wane. You were getting so desperate and pathetically needy that you sat on the edge of your small bench just at the angle so you could get a little bit of friction on your clit. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

As you rocked back and forth, trying to keep the little mewls and whines from slipping past your lips, you realized you couldn't do this.

You couldn't risk getting caught by the Mandalorian. Oh yes, everything's fine, just getting myself off. Don't worry, I'm super horny because of you. Yeah of course I'd love your cock.

Yeah. Cool, cool, cool. This would never happen. 

Just when you before you reached your breaking point and had your hands halfway to your soaked core, you stopped. 

"Kriff," you sighed to yourself as you pulled your hand back out and stood up. What the actual fuck had gotten into you? A few commanding words you were completely losing your control. Either you were desperate for a release from something other than your own hand or you craved the mysterious Mandalorian. 

Hastily stashing the impeccably clean blasters back into the weapons cache, you discarded the rag as you quickly came up with a plan. 

Tiptoeing quietly back to where the little one was sleeping, you sneaked a peek and saw that he was still fast asleep. He wouldn't even notice you were gone - that's what you tried to convince yourself as you delicately touched his soft ears and button nose. 

You weren't sure if you were speaking of the Mandalorian or the baby. At this point you really didn't care. 

You glanced back at the ladder towards the cockpit, watching almost as if you expected him to come down and catch you sneaking out. Hells, technically he'd know as soon as you left the ship. You scrawled a quick note telling him that you needed a cleaner or something, in your haste you couldn't even remember what you put, and would need to go to the market.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. That was totally plausible, you insisted to calm your own nerves as you slipped on your boots and a cloak before making your final decision to leave. Attempting to be as quiet and subtle as possible, you slowly made your way off the Crest and started scurrying towards the nearby desolate town of Mos Eisley. In reality you looked more like a scrap rat scurrying away from the light than a woman heading into town to find something. 

Whatever.

Mos Eisley wasn’t exactly known for its sparkling reputation, and you were sure you could get exactly what you wanted quickly enough. In and out, you thought to yourself as a flush rose in your check, well precisely that. For at least you were hoping. 

But the Mandalorian, a seasoned hunter with a reputation for a reason, and didn’t miss a single trick. He was aware of what you were doing before you even left the cargo hold. If he was this frustrated and turned on you by you, his cock hard and straining against the confines of his pants, he was sure you must have been in the same position. 

Oh, but he had been close to breaking, just like you. How easy it would have been to seal the hatch to the cockpit and relieve himself of the desire and ache. But no - just like you he had limits and wasn’t about to give in and stroke his hard cock while you were within earshot. No matter times he had imagined it - fucking your mouth or burying himself deep between your luscious heat before pounding you into oblivion, he wasn’t going to give in this easily. 

He wasn’t a virgin by any means, but with your little backtalk and the way you had looked at him with those wide doe eyes and pretty pouted lips sure had him feeling like one. The thought of burying himself inside you, to watch as you bounced on his cock with your tits in his face was enough to make up his mind. 

One time couldn’t hurt, right? People had casual encounters all the time.Why should this one be any different? If you were willing of course, although judging by how your pupils had dilated with each word from his mouth, had little doubt you felt the same way; but consent of course was key. 

And tomorrow? You’d be back to being the same way you had always been.

Hopefully. Maybe. Probably.

Fuck.

This was a bad idea, and the small, sensible part remaining in his brain told him so. But he was too far in, too deep and lost in his own desires to stop himself. 

He was watched as you ran away, deciding to wait until you were halfway to Mos Eisley before going after you. He’d take the kid to Pelli, sure she’d more than happy to watch him for the night. The rest? That was to be all consumed by you. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

The old cantina was dirty, dingy, and smelly. There was no doubt in your mind it must have been at least a decade since it was cleaned, and yet it still remained a hot spot; granted not for those of politer society, but enough to get the job down.  You pushed that to the back of your mind as you clambered through the crowd and to the bar, sitting down next to a handsome Zabrak you had spied when you’d walked in. You’d never been with one his kind before, but you’d heard rumors of them, especially when it came to their prowess behind closed doors, and something within you was piqued. 

He must have sensed something was up - as soon as you sat down, he motioned for the bartender to come back and bring the two of you a new round. 

“You’re new here,” he said gruffly, a dangerous edge to his voice, sharp like a knife as he took one of the luminescent drinks and shoved the other towards you.

Before you could even move to grab your drink or utter so much as a word in response, a hand darted and quickly grabbed your wrist, the grip biting and firm. 

“She’s mine,” the words washed over you before you could even turn to look at the Mandalorian. His chest was rising and falling heavy as his visor was trained on your would be companion for the night. A shudder ran up your spine as he pulled you off the stool, the two men glaring at each wordlessly. 

He pulled you behind him, storming out of the cantina as the crowds parted at the sight of the gleaming silver beskar. They knew better than to stand in the way of the Mandalorian. You felt like a child being scolded as he refused to acknowledge you, keeping his gaze trained straight as you struggled to keep up with his long strides. 

“What the hell, Mando?” your question was an indignant shout as your voice climbed an octave. His grip didn’t waver for a moment as he grunted in his response. Oh, he was mad. Yup. Definitely. You had fucked up. 

Any thought of talking back or prodding him further were estopped as you could see him fuming as he dragged your ass back to the Crest. 

This was it, you realized. This was the end where he would fire you and send you packing. Of all the places in the galaxy to be stranded, Tatooine was not one of your top destinations. No one to blame but yourself, you reckoned. 

Instead you hung your head as he refused to look back, making quick work of opening the cargo hold and shoving you inside. There was something about his touch that was rough, almost sending you falling to your ass, but there was still an odd gentleness.

You stared back at the blank visor in challenge, attempting to figure out what was going on. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he stared back at you. Neither of you were about to get a good read on each other. 

“Did you really think it was a good idea to just walk away without saying anything?” his voice was dangerously low as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at you. You opened and closed your mouth a few times as you tried to come up with either a smart response or an excuse but instead of anything coherent, it was a mixture of the two. Great. Now he's going to think you were an idiot on top of everything else. 

“I didn’t...just um...doesn’t matter what you...I needed something from the market?” you swallowed the lump on your throat as you dropped your gaze to the floor. He sighed for a moment - heavily - as you’d come to know was his penchant to do. 

“You needed something from the market?” it wasn’t a question so much as an accusation.

“Mhmm.”

“What was it?”

“C-cleaner,” you lied. Somehow it sounded better than saying yeah, I really just wanted a quick fuck because you have me feeling some type of way. 

“There's a new cleaner right in the cabinet,” he said as you internally groaned. He was right - there was a brand new gleaming bottle on the top shelf. He’d gotten some last week, “or did you conveniently forget that?”

“Umm,” you couldn’t get anything else out as he took a step closer and left minimal distance between your bodies. He reached up and put a hand under your chin, turning your face up to meet his, “uh huh.”

“Uh huh, honey,” his voice warmed you up from inside out as you gave him an innocent look. If he hadn’t known what he was doing earlier, he certainly did now. And he was going to milk every second of it, to push this as far as it would go. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, a subconscious gesture, but not unnoticed by the Mandalorian. His hand slipped from your chin and jaw and slid until he was gently holding your throat. His grip was light, and he was barely squeezing, but Maker, you wished he was, “is that really what you were going to do?”

“Y-yeah,” how much longer were you going to keep up this little facade? You had no clue. But the feel of his hand around your airway, pushing slightly, ever so slightly, had your mind positively reeling.

“Then why did you go to that filthy old cantina?” he leaned closer, his helmet mere inches from your face as you closed your eyes, the blood rushing to your ears as you the heat pooled in your belly, “why were you talking to Zabrak? Did you really think he was going to fuck you? To make you feel good?”

“Mhmm,” you managed to murmur after a few beats of silence as you realized what was happening. This was new, uncharted territory - for the both of you - and if you went any further, there would be no going back. And you - fuck it. Your eyes snapped open as you turned to look into the visor, right where his eyes would be, “needed someone to do it, since you never would.” 

And there it was - finally out in the open and hanging thickly between the two of you. All you could ever was a small huff from under the helmet and you were positive he was smirking like a victorious predator.

“Is that what you want, honey?” he asked and you nodded. Give and take and then...it all broke, “get on your knees. Now.”

And you wasted no time sinking onto the cool metal floor, now level with his cock, where you could see the hardness straining against his rough fabric. Shaky fingers worked to hastily pop the button and pull the zipper, but just before you could get to what you wanted, Din roughly grabbed jaw, turning your face up to his, “you take what I give. Yeah?”

“Yes,” you promised, feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with each word. But then, with another gentle tap to your chin, he seemed almost...gentle, “Mando?”

“If you don’t want this, just say stop,” he waited for you to nod as you a sense of warmth fluttered over you at his desire for consent, “I will not be gentle, I will not-”

“Give it to me then,” you beamed at him before turning back to his cock and pulling out of his underwear. You almost moaned at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking already; and just as your little fantasies had led you to believe, he was more than adequate. 

Spitting into your palm, you took him in your hand, pumping him a few times before licking the head, just small light licks, just enough to tease. Licking a stripe up his shaft, you played with his balls for a moment, earning what you were sure was a small groan from under the helmet. Making it a point to draw it out, you shouldn’t have been surprised when his hand went to the back of your head as he pushed you onto his cock. 

A sound of surprise was muffled by his cock as you took all of him into your mouth, doing your best not to gag as he hit the back of your throat and your nose brushed against the soft curls of hair at his base. Your hands slid up his thighs and found purchase on his hips as he began to fuck your mouth. He started slowly at first, almost as if he was afraid to give too much. When you grew accustomed to him, making it a point to hollow your cheeks and suck him as best as you could, he picked up the pace. And it was brutal in all the best ways, spit was starting to run down your chin along with a few tears that had spilled over, but if nothing else, it worked to spur him on. 

“Look at you,” he grunted between thrusts as he took in the sight in front of him, “take me so well. Knew your big mouth had to be good for something. Always wanted to fuck that pretty face.”

You hummed in delight as you raked your nails over the exposed slivers of his skin on his hips, golden and delicious and you wanted it all. His thrusts slowly become more erratic and sloppy as he twitched in your mouth. His hand dropped from the back of your head as you took over and put a hand back on his shaft as you worked to finish him off. 

Soon enough he did, followed by an almost primal growl as he came, his hot, thick, cum coating your mouth and you eagerly swallowed all that he offered, which unsurprisingly, was a lot. As his breathing slowed down and he slowly came down from the rush of his high, you pulled back from him, looking up at him with innocent eyes and a wicked smile. You cleaned him off, but just as you went to wipe at your mouth, his gloved hand was faster and he collected the spit and cum that had spilled out and pushed it back into your mouth with two fingers. You grabbed his wrist and made a show of sucking his fingers clean, tasting him along with the worn leather of his gloves. 

“Good girl,” he praised before hoisting you to your feet, “strip.”

“What about you?” you turned your head to the side, but he shook his head in response. He paused for a moment, almost as if he was having second thoughts, but just quickly, he whipped off his gloves and tossed them onto the floor before putting a hand on your cheek and stroking it tenderly. You swallowed thickly before nodding and working to pull off your clothes. 

First was your shirt, tugging slowly over your chest and tossed down to join the gloves. Your arm went to your back as you tugged off your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders as an almost nervous breath escaped your lips. 

“Keep going,” he commanded, eyes trained slowly on you as he drank in the sight of you. You undid your own zipper and pulled your pants and panties down in one fluid motion before kicking them off along with your boots and socks. You’d never felt more vulnerable or exposed in that moment, wanting to cover up but also relishing in the fact that you seemed to have rendered the Mandalorian speechless. He looked you up down, not bothering to hide the fact as he looked at your form, glancing at your soft mound before your breasts and then landing back on your face.

Beckoning for you to come closer with a simple crook of his fingers, you did so, standing directly in front of him. His hand flitted from your cheek and down your body before resting at the apex of your thighs. You gasped lightly in surprise as he dragged his fingers through your soaked folds, coating them in your copious arousal, before chuckling darkly. A hand immediately went to his shoulder as you steadied yourself and tried not to completely lose it at the simple touch, “all of this for me, honey?”

“Mhmm,” you admitted as he gently rubbed over your clit, teasingly in the slowest, most tantalizing way possible. Before you could stop yourself you blurted out, “always think about you. Always get so wet.”

He made a small, noncommittal sound as he pulled his fingers away from your wetness and brought them to your lips. He tapped your bottom lip and you opened your mouth, sucked his fingers clean from your own arousal, “I’ve thought about fucking you too. That mouth, that pussy. You’re such a brat, but you drive me crazy.”

“I like when you get mad,” you said as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, “‘s sexy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice deeper and lower than ever before, and you felt your knees start to buckle at the sheer sex it exuded, He brought his large, warm hands to your tits, touching over your pebbled nipples as you bit back a moan. While you wished it his mouth on them instead, this touch was just as well, as he massaged them, trying to get a good feel of them and seeing what drew out those sweet mewls from you. But before you could enjoy it too much, one hand gripped your waist like a vice and the other went between your legs. He ran his thick fingers through your folds, before slowly inserting one into your wet heat. You moaned as he slowly inserted another and then a third, stuffing you full and already having you seeing stars in no time, “make yourself cum.”

“What?” your eyes snapped open as he stilled his actions, “you’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” he popped the p loudly as he lightly teased your clit, eyes boring into yours, “you act like a brat and you want to cum? You have to work for it.”

“You can’t be serious,” you groaned as he moved to pull his hand away, as if to show you just how serious he was. This time, you caught his wrist and held him in place. He chuckled lightly in triumph as one of your hands returned to his shoulder for balance and the other went to play with your sensitive bundle of nerves. He held completely still, a practiced and patient man, as he made you work for it. He wasn’t kidding by any means when he said he would not be gentle. 

He remained quiet, watching your pretty face shift through a range of expressions as you worked to reach your own high. He was glad for the helmet, for if you had been watching him, you’d have seen the tinge of pink rising in his cheeks as the sight of you fucking yourself on his fingers. He’d envisioned this many times, no doubt about that, but he’d never thought it would become a reality. Maker, you were gorgeous as you thrust onto his hand using him for your own pleasure a string of gentle filth spilled from your lips as you rubbed slow circles onto your clit.

“Mandooo,” it was soft as you felt that familiar blinding haze start to take over you, and your toes involuntarily curled and your cunt started to clench around his fingers. Your eyes fluttered closed in pleasure as your vision turned blurry and that familiar warmth started to spread all over your limbs. He felt his cock twitch from where he had tucked himself back in after you’d pleasured him. Before you could finish though, something different met your ears.

“Din,” he said as bit your lip in order to keep from crying out completely, “my name is Din.”

And there it was. Completely unexpected and out of the blue. It wasn’t just a name - no it was so much more than it. It was a sign of trust, of closeness, of the fact that whatever this little situation was, it was neither the first or only time something like this would happen. No, your story with Mando may have come to an abrupt end, but your relationship with Din was just beginning.

It was almost as his name, uttered softly and almost unsurely, was exactly what you needed to push you over the edge as you came around his fingers. A soft moan left your lips along with the sweetest sound he was sure he’d ever heard, “Din.”

A merciful man when he chose to be, he took over for you and worked you through your orgasm as you almost collapsed into his arms, “there you are pretty girl. You did so well, fucking yourself on my fingers.”

“Not enough,” you rested your against the soft cowl of his neck as he pulled his hand from you, but not before slapping your ass a few times, almost as if testing to see how far he could push you. You made a few sounds of delight at the sting, only spurring him on as he slapped and then gently needed the ample flesh of your backside, “please, need you to fuck me.”

“Is that what you need, pretty girl?” he purred in your ear as he pulled back and grabbed your face in his hands, taking in the already blissed out expression on your features, “you want me to fuck you? Think you’re ready for my cock?”

“Yes,” you were practically ready to beg at this point, “I’ve been wanting it for so long.”

At your words, he almost dragged you to the small bed that was reserved for you in the corner and motioned for you to sit. You watched with eager eyes as he scrambled for the waistband of his pants and hastily pulled them down and kicked them off, letting them join your discarded clothes. He practically ripped off the rest of the beskar until he was bared in front of you, save for the helmet. His cock was already painfully hard again, standing at attention and leaking fat drops of precum.

“Can I trust you?” he asked as you nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. You’d never questioned the fact that you’d never seen his face or that he apparently just never showed it to anyone. You respected him and his decisions, and you’d never dare to push the envelope or destroy his trust. 

“Always,” you promised as he walked over to the wall and hit the switch for lights, cloaking the room in darkness. You sucked in a breath before you heard him shuffling about and the beskar helmet clanged against the metal floor. He stood in front of you, you could feel his breathing as he touched your cheek before wrapping a hand around your throat.

“Hands and knees,” he instructed with a delicious rasp, made even better by the lack of filtering from the vocoder of his helmet, “now.”

The singular word was enough to send a fresh rush of arousal through your veins, as you laid on your belly on the small cot before positioning yourself so your ass was in the air. He shuffled behind you, his large hands grazing over the soft flesh of your ass. He spread your cheeks apart before dragging a thick finger through your soaked folds. A small sound of pleasure rippled through your throat as you clutched onto the thin, scratchy blanket of the bed, “please.”

“Quiet,” it was harsh and biting as  the palm of his hand slapped your ass, the sting delicious and leaving you wanting more, “you like that, don’t you? You like being spanked, pretty girl.”

“Only by y-y-you,” before you could say anything, he slapped your ass a few more times before kneading the soft flesh to make sure the sting wasn’t too painful. 

Mando - no, Din - shifted his weight and you could feel him line himself up at your entrance. He ran the tip of his cock through your folds. A moan escaped your lips - and his - as he slowly pushed into you, giving you a brief moment to adjust to his considerable size. The stretch was amazing, the slight burn quickly turned into pleasure and you felt full, so completely full. He groaned as he bottomed out, already feeling pussy dumb by the way your velvet walls hugged him, “this - kriff - this pussy is perfect. Just like it was made for me.”

“Din,” you buried your face in your pillow as he pulled out, slowly, before thrusting sharply back into you. He was not lying when he said that he would not be gentle. His large, warm hands went to your hips as he held them in a bruising grip. You were sure you’d bear his marks for days. 

He set a bruising pace, thrusting into you with no mercy as he slammed his hips into yours. There was nothing gentle or intimate about, no - this was months and months of pent up frustration and desire coming out all at once. Din was not a talkative man, but as he fucked you into oblivion, he was whispering strings of filth and praise into your ears. All you could do was lie there as he pounded into you, so lost in your own pleasure as you became a whining mess under him.

Before he came, his arms snaked around your waist as he pulled you flush against his chest. One large hand went to play with your breasts as the other went to your clit as he rubbed and circled at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your mouth hung open in a blissful haze as he kept going, pressing kisses into the soft skin of your skin and shoulder, alternating between nipping and sucking and making sure to leave plenty of marks so everyone knew you were his. 

“Look at you, pretty girl,” he grunted in your ear, “taking my cock so well. You love this don’t you? Getting used like this.”

“Mhmm,” you bit your lip as he kept going, kept abusing your spent pussy as he started to stutter in his thrusts, “‘m so close, please, wanna come.”

“You’re going to come on my cock,” he commanded as you nodded, “and I’m going to fill you up and make sure you know who you belong to.”

“I’m yours,” you insisted as you felt your walls clench around him and his cock start to twitch, “only yours.”

“Good girl,” he praised as he turned your head to place a rough kiss on your lips. It was the sheer act of the moment and feel of his stubble that sent you over the edge and cumming all over him. You were like jello in his arms as he held you up, giving you a few more thrusts before spilling inside and coating your walls with his cum, “ahh - fuck - so fucking good. Maker, you feel like no other. Perfect pussy - just for me.”

He held you tightly against his body as he caught his breath, the two of you breathing in sync. You thought he might pull away immediately, but instead, he pressed more kisses, chaste compared to your previous actions, down your back as he slowly lowered you onto the bed. You couldn’t even form words as you laid there, cockdumb and already feeling his arousal along with your own dripping onto your thigh. 

“You did good,” he praised gently before reaching between your legs and scooping up some of his cum that had started dripping out. You whimpered at the touch, still sensitive, and listened as he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, “but I’m not done with you yet.”

Din gently flipped you onto your back so you were lying face up and exposed to him. He sat between your legs and slowly spread them apart, admiring his handy work. He leaned back before climbing off the small and getting on his knees, pulling you towards his face. Just as you had gotten on your knees for him, he kneeled only for you. 

“Din,” you sighed contentedly as he kissed along your inner thighs, working his way back to your dripping heat. He nuzzled his nose against you, taking a moment to take it all in, “already so much."

"Come on, honey," his voice was like liquid gold as he reached up and touched your breasts, cupping them easily in his large hands, "you've got another one in you. I know you do. Aren't you a good girl?"

"Mhmm," you arched into his touch as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. How this infuriating man got you to become a pile of mush in his hands you'd never know, but you definitely weren't going to question it. He leaned up and kissed your hips before burying his face between your legs, "I'm your good girl."

And with those words, he licked a long stripe up your soaked folds, still soaked from your combined juices. His nose, which you presumed was aquiline in nature, nudged your clit as he ate you like a starving man. You were the shining prize, glimmering in the distance, and he was the wrecked man crossing the desert to get to you.

This time you didn't even bother to hold back as you mewled and cried, tears of pleasure and overstimulation welling up at the corners of your eyes and sliding down your cheeks. Din hummed in content as he licked and suckled at you, making sure to focus on your clit as you came completely undone.

Reaching down, you carded a hand through his locks - curls - as you pressed his face against your aching core. You could practically feel him smirking against you as he slipped a few fingers inside to join his ministrations. Expertly curling his thick fingers, he quickly found the sweet spot that made your toes curls and you see stars.

"Almost there," he grinned as he gave you a moment of reprieve before diving right back in, "I can feel that perfect cunt squeezing around me. Taste so good, pretty girl."

"D-Din," his name falling from your tongue was like pure magic as he became transfixed by how it sounded. Your mouth dropped open in a small O as your legs shook around him. He pulled his fingers from you as he held down your hips in order to keep you from squirming away from him, "feelssogood - makerohstars - Dindindin."

"Come all over my face, pretty girl," his tongue darted into you for a few moments before he gave your clit a harsh suckle. That was all it took before you came again, screwing your eyes shut as he worked your through your orgasm, lapping up every bit of your juices, refusing to waste even a drop, "there you are - taste so fucking good. Perfect."

He was relentless until he was sure you were completely done and a practical ragdoll on the bed. Slowly, he pulled back from you, trailing light kisses up your body, stopping when he got your face. Almost as if he was able to see even in the almost complete darkness, he wiped away your remaining tears. He hesitated for a moment for leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You sighed softly as you rolled onto your side and scooted closer to the wall, making room for him. 

It was a big thing you were doing, boundaries had been crossed and blurred and any rules you'd previously had were thrown out the window. Neither of you were sure what came next.

But you did know that you didn't want him to leave - not yet anyway.

"Din?" you asked softly as he pulled the blanket over your spent body; he was surprisingly gentle for a man that had just sent you to heaven and hell and back. 

"Yes, pretty girl?" 

"Will you stay?" your voice was small as you prepared yourself for defeat and for him to leave.

"Yes," he whispered softly as he slid in under the blanket and next to you, "I'd like that."

"Me too," you admitted as he shifted and pulled you in his arms so you could lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump thump of his heart, "Din?"

“Hmm?”

"I'm in charge next time," you smirked lightly as you kissed his soft skin. He inhaled sharply but you could tell he was into it. The man might have just been in charge, but you had a feeling he might like being told what to do as well - and you were going to find out, "I want to ride you."

"Kriff," he groaned under his breath, "You're going to be the death of me, little brat."

"I'll make it worth your while," you promised with a small yawn, "I'll have you crying in no time - begging me for mercy."

“Mhmm.”

“You’re going to be a good boy for me, right?” it was your turn to put your hand on his throat and give it a gentle, but firm squeeze as he stiffened at the feeling, “I know you’re a good boy, Din.”

“Fuck.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[mandos-sluts]

The Informant

The Mandalorian x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.5k

Summary: You’re the most beautiful bounty that Mando has ever captured. Your boyfriend is a wealthy crime-boss, and you strike a deal with Greef Karga and Mando to operate as an informant and spy on your boyfriend in exchange for immunity. Your boyfriend’s penthouse is bugged, and Mando can’t help himself when he sees something he’s not supposed to while monitoring footage from the hidden camera in your boyfriend’s bedroom.

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, dubious consent, oral (f recieving), dirtly talk, blind fold usage, voyerism (via hidden camera), masterbation, sir/boss kink, mentions of injury and blood, alcohol consumption

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Masterlist

There’s been a bounty on your head for a few weeks now, but you’ve managed to evade all of the hunters who have come after you. Your boyfriend is the head of an organized crime consortium based out of Coruscant, and you assume the newly placed bounty has to do with your aiding and abetting in the affairs. You don’t actually partake in any of it, but you’re well aware of the illegality of your boyfriend's actions.

Because of this, you’ve been on fairly high alert recently, and have been good about taking precautions to prevent yourself from getting picked up. But tonight, you let yourself slip.

You’re at a fancy cantina with your friends and are getting tipsy off of the spotchka. The music is loud, everyone is dancing and having a good time. You’re standing by a booth, talking to a group of your friends.

You scan the rest of the cantina to see if there is anyone more interesting to talk to. That's when you see him, standing in the doorway. A Mandalorian— i.e., a bounty hunter. Your heart drops and you can no longer hear the music as you stare at the beskar covered man staring back at you. Your drink falls out of your hand onto the ground, startling you back to reality. You bolt.

You run to the cantina’s back exit and dart into the alley. How could you be so careless?? You should not have been at such a public place where anyone could walk in and find you!!

The Mandalorian sprints after you, everyone in the cantina standing frozen and watching him run. You make your way to the street, running as fast as you can. You look back and the Mandalorian is pretty close behind you. You turn into another alley to try and lose him, but trip and face-plant on the ground. Fuck.

Instant pain rushes to your ankle as blood runs down your leg. Tears begin to collect in your eyes as the sprain of and cut on your ankle fill you with ache. You sit up and grab your bloody ankle as you hear the Mandalorian’s footsteps approaching behind you.

He holds a blaster up to the back of your head. “Get up.” The Mandalorian says in a deep commanding voice. He watches your head slowly turn around, and sees that your face is filled with tears and your bottom lip is quivering. Your leg and palms are bloody and your hands are shaking, probably from both the pain and fear.

The Mandalorian lets out a sigh and puts his blaster in his holster. “Here.” He says offering his hand to you. You take it and he helps pull you up. “Let’s go.” He says impatiently.

You try to take a step forward and fall to the ground again, your ankle completely unable to hold any weight.

“Shit.” The Mandalorian says under his breath. He crouches down and picks you up back onto your feet. He wraps one hand around your waist to help you walk. You try your best to stifle your crying.

Mando almost feels bad for you. The chase was pathetically short, and you sprained your ankle trying to flee his capture. You’re also….you’re also just so pretty. Your puppy dog eyes are filled with tears and your hands are covered in blood; he can tell that you’re in pain and it kind of breaks his heart.

The two of you walk for about ten feet with Mando’s arm around you while you limp. Mando lets out a sharp exhale and abruptly stops. “This is gonna take too long.” He says as he swings his arm under your legs and swoops you off your feet.

You feel pathetic and embarrassed— the bounty hunter who caught you has to carry you to this ship, and you can tell that he’s super annoyed by it. He walks with you in his arms for about ten minutes in silence; you still have yet to say a word to him. The quiet between the two of you is so awkward.

“....So, is there anything I can do for you to let me go?” You say quietly and hesitantly. You already know the answer, but you honestly just want to fill the deafening silence.

“No.” He answers shortly.

After another ten minutes of walking, you arrive at his ship. The hatch opens slowly and Greef Karga stands tall in the doorway with his hands on his hips. You know of Karga, you know that he’s the one who has sent all the bounty hunters after you.

“Mando!” He says with a slight smile. “Do you carry all your bounties like they’re your bride?” He asks jokingly.

“She sprained her ankle.” Mando responds flatly as he carries you up the ramp.

He sets you down on a box and lifts your leg to prop it up on another box.

“Well, y/n, it only took five bounty hunters to catch ya.” Karga says to you. “Don’t know why I didn’t just send Mando here from the beginning.” He chuckles, patting Mando on the back. Mando doesn’t respond.

“Why are you here, Greef?” You say looking at Karga, cheeks still stained with tears.

“I’m here because I wanted to let you know that you have options, y/n.” Karga responds bluntly. “We know you have valuable intel into your boyfriend’s operations, and I can get your sentence reduced significantly if you help us out.”

The blood on your hands and leg has dried and you can feel your ankle beginning to swell.

Karga takes a deep breath. “So I’m gonna let Mando here question you.” Karga says putting a hand on Mando’s shoulder. Mando’s head turns quickly from you to Karga, making it pretty clear that he wasn’t expecting that. “Does that sound good to everyone?” Karga asks, exchanging looks with both you and Mando.

“Sure.” Mando’s modulated voice responds.

“Great.” Karga says before exiting the ship.

Mando closes the hatch and you look up at him. “Since when do bounty hunters carry out investigations?” You ask

“I’m not conducting an investigation.” Mando reponds. “You’re telling me the details of your boyfriend’s embezzlement and the locations of his operation’s top brass.”

You cross your arms and look at Mando with a straight face. “I don’t know any of that.”

“Bullshit. Come on, there’s no point in protecting your little boyfriend now.”

“I’m not protecting him.” You say sincerely. “I really don’t know any of that. My boyfriend lives in the penthouse at the Tower Plaza. That’s all I know.”

Mando exhales. “This would be a lot easier for the both of us if you just told–”

“What would I gain from keeping tabs on his convoluted dealings?” You interrupt. “He makes a shit load of money, that’s all I've ever cared about. I don’t know any of the details you're looking for. If I did, I’d tell you.”

Mando crosses his arms and takes a deep breath while leaning against the wall. “You’re really not trying to protect him then, huh?”

“No.” You say rubbing your sprained ankle. “He’s an asshole. Now that I’m going to jail, I don’t need to rely on him.”

Your boyfriend literally finances your entire life. And it is a lavish life. Your nice skyrise apartment is in his name, and every dime you spend is his. But your reasons for being with him begin and end with his money. He’s a shitty boyfriend and has never treated you right.

“Okay.” Mando says. “I have an idea.”

*********************************

You, Mando, and Karga make a deal. You are going to operate as an informant and gather as much information as possible while hanging around with your boyfriend in exchange for immunity.

With your help, Karga was able to instal hidden cameras all over your boyfriend’s penthouse, which is where your boyfriend often meets with other high ranking officials of his crime organization to discuss business.

The Razor Crest, which is parked in a hidden hanger lot, acts as the base of operation. Live feed of the cameras in your boyfriend’s place is streamed to screens in the Crest which Mando will watch to gather intel.

*********************************

You feel a little uneasy on the elevator ride up to your boyfriend’s compound knowing that Mando could be watching you. But you figure that once he sees that nothing notable is going on, he’ll stop watching.

“Babyyy! Come here.” Your boyfriend says walking up to you in the foyer. He pulls you in for a long kiss. “Thank Gods you were able to escape that bounty hunter.” He says caressing your cheek. “I thought I had lost you.”

Before you can say a word, your boyfriend is dragging you to his room while sloppily making out with you. He’s quick to take off his shirt and then begins unbuttoning your top.

“Wait.” You say placing your hand on his.

“What?” He asks.

You look up to the corner of his large bedroom where there’s a hidden camera installed, and look directly into the lens. The risk that Mando is watching fills you with discomfort. However, you know you have to play it cool, and you don’t have a logical reason to not proceed.

“N-nothing.” You say, planting your lips back on his while he undresses you.

*********************************

You don’t know why, but you stare into the camera as it’s happening. Staring directly into the lense in the corner of the room, laying naked under your boyfriend while he jackhammers you.

You’re letting out some breathy moans that are mostly exaggerated as your eyes are locked to the camera, hoping, praying that nobody is on the other end watching.

*********************************

Mando leans back in his seat on the Crest. He knows he should turn off the monitor. Or at least cut the sound. But he can’t. His brain is telling him to get up and walk to the other room, but he won’t, his eyes are glued to the screen.

Mando feels his arousal grow as he watches your boyfriend strip you down and throw you onto the bed.

He can’t believe what he’s watching, what he’s listening to. There you are, so pretty, so sexy, so perfect, laying there getting fucked by your pathetic boyfriend.

Mando stretches his legs out and begins palming his growing bulge over his pants. You’re looking directly at him. The two of you are staring at each other through the screen.

Mando feels his erection stiffen as he watches you get fucked. Holy shit….he needs to fuck you. He needs to fuck you so bad. He needs to make you scream and cry. He needs to make you cum. He needs to show you how a real man fucks.

Seeing you naked, your head moving up and down on the pillow with each thrust. It’s so fucking hot. But your stupid boyfriend is laying on you, covering your beautiful body.

Ah! Fuck yes. Doggie style. You get on all fours, giving Mando the perfect view of you. Your ass high in the air, your tits hanging down. Seeing you in this position is enough to make him cum.

Mando slowly removes his hardening cock and starts pumping his length. He’s staring into your eyes as your body is propelled forward with each thrust, tits swinging and ass jiggling as you stare back at him with your mouth hanging open. You let out a small moan with each thrust and it makes Mando so hard.

He can tell you’re not enjoying yourself. He can tell you’re waiting for it to end.

Mando watches as your boyfriend pulls out of you and spews his cum on your ass.

Fuck.

*********************************

A few hours later, you walk into the Crest for your nightly debriefing.

“Hey.” You say to Mando, who is sitting in front of the screens.

“Hi.” He responds flatly.

“So did you learn anything?” You ask him, leaning against the wall beside him. You were only at your boyfriend’s place for a little while, and have nothing to report. But you know he met with some buddies of his shortly after you left back to your place a few floors down.

Mando takes a deep breath. “Not really, nothing I didn’t already know. But I was able to confirm a lot of my conjectures. Ya know, who his right hand man is, the number of credits he’s moving, the fact that he can’t make you cum.”

Your head shoots up. “What!?”

“What…?”

“You watched?!” You can’t believe that what you thought was an irrational fear actually happened. You’ve never felt this kind of embarrassment before.

Din chuckles and leans back in his seat. “Yeah I watched. And I will say, ha, you’re not as good an actress as I thought you’d be, I mean, you didn’t even try to fake an orgasm.”

“What the fuck you pervert!?”

“Hey, don’t act like you didn’t know I would be watching the footage.” Mando says, crossing his arms.

“You didn’t need to watch us fuck! Obviously you weren’t going to gain any intel from viewing that interaction!” You argue. You’re humiliated beyond belief and you can feel the red heat on your face.

“That’s not true.” Mando responds casually. “I learned that he has a small cock and only lasts about two minutes.”

“Uck you’re such a creep.” Honestly, you’re more embarrassed by the fact he watched you than mad by it.

“What did you want me to do, watch you strip naked and then look away? Are you crazy?”

You roll your eyes and look away from him, trying to hide your flushed cheeks.

Mando takes a deep breath. “Listen, y/n, I’m sorry—”

“—You should be.” You snap

Mando chuckles. “….I’m not sorry for watching you, sweetheart. I’m sorry that your boyfriend fucks you like that. You deserve better.”

“I deserve better? You were about to throw me in jail the other day!” You contend.

“Oh, well, not before giving you a good fuck, pretty girl. Your drop off point was Nevarro, a good few hours flight from here. What did you think I was going to do with you during that time?”

You look up at him, unsure if he’s being serious or not. “Pfft, you’re full of it.” You say.

“Ha. I’m full of it?” Mando scoffs. Then he pauses. He stands up slowly from his seat and begins to creep toward you.

Just then, you feel the tension between the two of you change. It gets darker. Mando’s demeanor gets more dominating. He’s not joking around with you anymore. You can hear the seriousness in his voice.

“You’re gonna be full of my cock if you keep talking back to me, little girl. Don’t forget that you work for me.” He says in the deepest voice while backing you against the wall of the Crest.

You’re scared, but also aroused. “Y-you need me just as much as I need you, Mando. You’re all talk.” You respond, trying to hide your faltering confidence.

“Oh yeah? You think?” Mando says as he slams you into the metal wall, boxing you in with no space to move.

You feel your pussy pulse and your core heat. But part of you is filled with fear. Mando could easily snap you in half if he wanted to, and the tone he’s using right now is downright deadly. Perhaps giving him attitude and provoking him is dangerous.

“Y-you’re an asshole.” You respond, going against your instincts as your arousal clouds your judgment.

“Aww that’s not very nice.” He taunts as he roughly grabs your chin and tilts your head up to meet his gaze. His voice is angry. “You should be fuckin thanking me you little brat, cuz im about to show this deprived little cunt of yours some proper attention.”

Mando abruptly rips your shirt right off your body, and ties a strip of it around your eyes. Your chest is heaving and you can’t be sure he isn’t going to kill you right now.

“Wh—”

“Shut up.” Mando snaps.

You stand there, frozen and shaking against the wall as Mando shoves your pants and underwear down, leaving you completely naked. Mando’s body leaves yours and you hear him remove his helmet and drop it on the floor, and he is no sooner pressed right up against you again.

He presses his face against the slide of your head, breathing heavily in your ear. His breath is warm, and you can feel facial hair resting on your skin.

One hand has a firm hold of your head, forcing it in place against his lips, and his other trails down your bare body. You feel his fingers find your clit and start working it right away.

“Aww. What a soft little neglected clit.” He breathes in your ear.

His gruff but clear voice sends shocks through your core.

“Ahh!” You moan out as he rubs your bud.

“Fuck. You are soaking my fuckin fingers. How are you this wet already?” Mando scoffs. “I feel bad for you baby. You’re so fuckin desperate.”

All you do is whine in response because you know he’s right. You’re embarrassed by how wet you are. You can hear his fingers gushing in your cunt, you wish you had some self-restraint. With your boyfriend, you have to use a shit load of lube, but as soon as Mando put his hands on you, your panties were ruined.

When Mando picked you up a few days ago, you never would have imagined that he would be fingering you against the wall of his ship after watching your boyfriend fuck you. But you’ve never been more turned on in your life. No one has ever talked to you like this before, or touched you like this before, or treated you like this before, and you love it.

And Mando can tell. He watched you and your boyfriend have bland vanilla sex— he knows that you’ve never been dominated the way you wish you were.

He adds more pressure and starts circling your clit faster. Your back arches against the wall and your mouth opens slightly as soft whimpers fall from your lips.

Mando picks his head up and you can tell he’s watching your face. “Fuck, look how much you react to my touch baby.” He purrs.

“Fuck Mando….” You whine.

“You want me to make you cum, little girl?” He whispers in your ear.

You nod your head fast. You can tell he’s edging you on purpose.

“Then ask me nicely.” Mando commands as he teases your entrance.

“P-please, Mando. Please make me cum.” You beg.

“Goood girl.” He praises. “Oh, and call me sir. I am your boss after all.”

Mando lifts you off your feet and your legs instinctively wrap around him. He sets you down on a cold metal table. Shoving your thighs apart, he runs his fingers through your folds a few times.

You feel so bare, so exposed, so vulnerable, perched up on this table for display with your nipples hard as rocks. Being without sight makes you especially nervous. You know that Mando is inspecting every part of your body as he runs his hands over your tense skin.

Mando gets on his knees and you suddenly feel his warm breath on your inner thighs. He kisses and lightly nips at your tender skin. You feel a fresh wave of arousal shoot to your pussy as you feel him sucking a hickey right below your cunt.

Mando lifts his head up from between your legs. “Don’t you dare peek under that blind fold, you understand me?” He says in a stern voice.

You bite your bottom lip and nod your head, itching for him to touch your cunt again.

“Use your words, princess.” Mando says as he lightly slaps your outer thigh.

“Yes sir!” You breathe out.

Mando starts inching his middle finger into your hole as he stands up. He plants his soft lips on your neck and peppers you with open-mouth kisses all over your throat.

“When's the last time your boyfriend ate this flawless pussy of yours, huh?” Mando says in your ear as he shoves the rest of his finger all the way into you.

“Ah! I– I don’t even remember sir.”

“Ha. No wonder you're such a needy little thing.”

Mando returns to his knees and wraps his arms around your thighs. His large warm tongue licks the length of your cunt, sending shutters through your body.

“Fuck you taste good.” Mando says into your cunt.

You whimper and whine as he begins sucking on your clit. He brings his fingers up and dances them in and around your hole while flicking his thick tongue on your sensitive bud.

You move your hands to his head and feel his soft short hair running through your fingers. Just then, Mando gently bites your clit, prompting you to pull his hair and scream out. He chuckles into your pussy, the vibration further stimulating you.

Mando gets into a rhythm, driving his finger in and out of your tiny hole while sucking on and swirling his tongue around your clit.

“Ahhhh! Fuckkkk Mando! Yes!!!” You cry out as you feel your orgasm nearing. But then Mando lifts his head from your cunt.

“What was that?”

“Sir! I’m sorry! Sir, please, please keep going!” You plead, frantic for release.

“Ha. So fuckin desperate.” Mando whispers as he returns to your dripping folds.

“Holy shit! Fuck! I'm gonna cum sir!” You weap as Mando’s pace and pressure sends you over the edge.

“That’s it.” Mando grunts between your legs. “Cum on my mouth baby girl.” He says before darting his tongue into your pulsing hole.

Your pussy clenches around his thick long tongue and your legs shake uncontrollably. You’ve never had a climax like this before. “Ahhhhhh!!” You scream out.

You shove Mando’s fingers away from your cunt as the overstimulation wrecks you. Mando stands up and lets out a satisfied and cocky snicker.

Your chest is heaving as you come down from your orgasm.

You feel Mando’s cold armor and body weight lean over you. He plants a tender kiss on your lips. “Fuck. You’re so fuckin pretty when you cum. If I was your boyfriend I’d make you cum all the time just so I could watch you.”

An awkward pause ensues and Mando almost instantly regrets saying that. “If I was your boyfriend” ? Why on earth would he say that? That’s such a weird thing to say! Mando clears his throat and rises to put his helmet back on.

You’re a tad taken aback by his confession, and you can tell Mando feels weird about what he just said. But it’s honestly one of the nicest things anyone has said to you in a while. Sex with your boyfriend has only ever been about him, and you really like the idea of Mando getting pleasure from watching you be pleasured.

You slowly lift your makeshift blindfold off of your head once you hear the hiss of his helmet.

“Can’t believe my boss ate me out.” You joke, trying to fill the awkward silence. You hop down from the table and retrieve your panties.

“Hmf. I’m sure this wouldn’t be the first time.” Mando says under his breath.

“What?” You say pulling your underwear and pants on.

“Yeah. I mean, it seems like something you would do….well you fuck your boyfriend for his money, I wouldn’t put it past you to— it just seems like your thing to fuck your way into getting what you want.”

“Hm. Okay, well fuck you.” You say crossing your arms to cover your boobs.

What the fuck? That’s such a rude thing to say. Part of you feels like he’s trying to be a douche to override the whole “If I was your boyfriend” thing but either way, it’s a super insulting allegation to make.

“Hey I'm not judging—”

“No, Mando you’re implying that I’m not smart enough to earn anything based on my merit!”

“That’s not….I mean—”

“Whatever.” You snap. You’re super annoyed and just want to leave. “Give me a shirt since you ripped mine in half.” You say unamused.

Mando silently hands you a large black t-shirt of his. You snach it from him and put it on, walking to the hatch without saying a word.

“There are gonna be two other guys with me here tomorrow to monitor the footage.” Mando informs you as you walk down the ramp. “So maybe postpone your vanilla sex with your boyfriend until you have the all-clear.” He mocks.

Tomorrow is a big day for the investigation. Your boyfriend will be having multiple important meetings in his penthouse, and is scheduled to be moving a lot of credits, hence the reason for the extra surveillance of the live footage.

You ignore Mando’s rude comment and walk away heatedly.

*********************************

Ugh. Mando is such a conceited, cocky asshole. But….fuck if that doesn’t make him so damn hot.

Your boyfriend is sort of the same way— smug and arrogant beyond belief, but Mando….at least his overconfidence is well earned. You have never had an orgasm that strong in your life, and you can’t help but imagine how incredible he would be at fucking you.

You want to fuck Mando, badly, but at the same time you want to get him back for being such a jerk. He wins if you just let him fuck you; you need to find a way to make him regret being such an asshole to you.

You take a deep breath, inhaling Mando’s scent from his shirt. That’s when it comes to you. You know the perfect way to get him back.

You are going to fuck Mando, but you’re going to do it on your terms. You’re going to make him just as desperate as you are.

*********************************

The next day you ride the elevator all the way up to your boyfriend’s penthouse. You walk in and there are already quite a few people gathered and chatting.

Your boyfriend strides over to you. “Hi sweetheart.” He says before kissing you on the lips. You can tell he’s a little surprised to see you since he didn’t invite you over. “I have a few meetings going on here today, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry at all babe. I’m just gonna go take a nap in your bed.” You get on your tippy toes and lean close to his ear. “I wanna smell you on the sheets.” You whisper.

Your boyfriend smiles. “Go right ahead, baby doll.”

*********************************

The hull of the Crest is pretty big, but it feels overcrowded to Mando with two other men in it. He is super annoyed that he has to share his space with two other random guys who were assigned this surveillance job because they suck at bounty hunting.

The three men are sitting silently in front of the array of screens. Karga sent him the extra help because he thought too much would be happening in different rooms for Mando to keep up with. But so far, that is very much not the case.

Nothing eventful or informative is happening. Mando is monitoring the living room where a few guys are just sorting and counting loads of credits. The other few screens are humdrum as well. In one room, a few guys are snorting some spice, in another, their gambling; no important information is being exchanged or discussed.

“No way.” Mando hears one of the guys say. “Holy. Shit. Check this out you guys.” The guy says, looking at the screen in front of him with wide eyes.

Mando and the other guy get up and shuffle over to the screen in question.

“What the fuuuuck.” The other guy says in excitement as he sees what’s going on.

Mando’s eyes finally meet the screen they’re referencing, and that’s when he sees you.

There you are, laying in bed, legs open wide, fingering yourself, wearing nothing but his shirt.

Mando stands in shock for a moment, wondering why on earth you would do this when you knew that there would be other guys— then it hits him. You’re doing this on purpose.

“Turn it off.” Mando commands.

“What?” The guy says looking back at him. “No way man are you kidding?”

Mando is desperate to shut this down. “This is fucked up, come on, she’s a member of this team. Turn it off.” He orders again.

“Come on.” The other guy says putting his hand on Mando’s shoulder. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Don’t pretend like you don’t wanna watch, Mando.”

Mando just stands there silently in defeat. There’s nothing he can do but stand and watch. He watches the screen as you lie there circling the clit that he was sucking on yesterday, moaning in the shirt that he gave you. Anger and jealousy rise in Mando’s chest as he silently watches the screen and listens to these two guys as they gawk at you.

“Damn it she’s hot.”

“Dumb girl forgot there was a camera in the bedroom.”

“Fuck. The things I would do to that little girl.”

“Man, her boyfriend is lucky.”

“So fuckin sexy, look at that cunt, I wannna destroy her.”

“We can take turns pal.”

“Haha, keep her as our own private fucktoy.”

“Ha. Bet she’s good too. Bet her boyfriend has trained her well. Bet she spends all her time with his cock in her mouth.”

“I mean what else would she be good for?”

“Hahahahaha.”

Mando’s fists clench listening to the things these scumbags are saying. His body and brain are torn between arousal and anger. He wants to rip the monitor off of the table and shove these guys into carbonite. He wants to storm into your boyfriend’s penthouse and drag you out of there. He wants to carry you back to the ship and fuck you until you can’t speak. But he can’t, and his lack of control over the situation further fuels his rage.

*********************************

You’re lying at an angle so that the hidden camera in the corner of the room has a perfect view of your pussy.

You’re of course being a bit more theatrical than you normally are when you masterbate, wanting to put on a good show for the men watching. Circling your glistening clit and whining so innocently, your eyes are closed as you imagine what Mando is thinking right now.

You slide your hand up your body, bringing his shirt with you and exposing your breasts for your audience. You knead your tit as you moan out high-pitched breaths.

Feeling your orgasm approach, you bring the collar of Mando’s shirt up to your mouth and bite it, making it look like you’re trying to muffle your noises. Your back arches against the bed and your toes curl up as your orgasm rips through you. “Mmmmmm!” You moan with Mando’s shirt in your mouth.

*********************************

Night has fallen and everyone has made their way out of your boyfriend’s penthouse, including you. You honestly feel a bit nervous as you make your way to the Crest for your debriefing, not knowing exactly what happened on the other end of the camera earlier today.

You walk up the ramp and find Mando sitting in front of the blank monitors, fidgeting with some of the wires. “Evening.” You say softly to him.

He doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even look up.

“Did you guys enjoy my show?”

“Pfft.”

“What's wrong, Mando?” You say in a seductive tone, walking up to him slowly. “Did you not like that those other scumbags got to see me playing with myself?”

Mando looks up at you. “I couldn’t care less.” He contends.

Mando is brewing in his frustration at how perfectly you were able to play him. He knows that you’re fucking with him on purpose, and he doesn’t want to give in. He’s fighting every urge of his to drop the act and give you what you want— to fuck you right here right now.

But he doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction. He wants you to think that he doesn’t care, to think that you can’t toy with him.

“No?” You say putting your hand on the back of his chair. “Then can you tell me where they’re staying. Because I'm really itching to get fucked, and you seem rather busy.”

Mando drops the circuit board and slowly stands up, towering over you. “There’s no fucking way either one of them is gonna lay a finger on you.” He says in a deep voice.

“Why not? I'm reeeaally horny, and you said you couldn’t care less.” You tease, flashing a smug half smile across your face.

“Ughnnn just shut the fuck up.” Mando breathes out. He grabs you tightly by your upper arms. “You know exactly what you’re doing you little slut. Fuck, you’re such a fuckin tease.”

He manhandles you against the table and grabs a fist full of your hair, pulling it back and bringing his helmet right against your ear.

“You should have heard the things they were saying about you.” Mando growls in your ear. He is breathing heavily as his rigid grip on you tenses.

“All good I hope.”

“Disgusting things. Fuckin filthy things.” He spits out.

“Mmmmm.” You hum in response.

“I was ready to snap their necks in half. They wouldn’t fuckin let me turn it off. You were being such a whore that they had to watch it.”

You can tell Mando is on the edge, you can tell he’s trying his hardest to hold back. He wants to rip your clothes off and bend you over the table. But then you would win.

“Bet their dicks got hard.” You say in a sultry tone as you maneuver your thigh between his legs, slightly pushing it up against his hardening member. “Bet you were upset you couldn’t jerk off while watching me. Ha, I bet they all were.”

Mando grunts as you start moving your thigh around his crotch. “Was that frustrating for you, sir? Watching those guys drool over the pussy that you ate yesterday?” Mando’s gloved fingers dig even harder into your biceps at your condescending tone. “I bet you wanted to tell them.”

Mando jerks you. “You’re fuckin lucky I didn’t.” He says in a deep angry voice. “They’re probably fucking their hands right now thinking about you, you slut.”

Mando’s cock is fully erect now, pressed right up against his trousers. You continue moving your thigh against his groin.

“You keep calling me a slut, but the fact remains that I've never fucked anyone but my boyfriend. I think that makes me a pretty good girl, don’t you, sir?” You say, batting your eyes at him.

“Yeah well I’m gonna make you a slut then. You won’t remember that fucker's name when I'm done with you.” Mando says as he harshly lifts you off your feet and slams you down on the table, shoving everything on it out of the way.

You sit up on the table with Mando standing between your legs. You smile and wrap your arm around his neck as you feel your victory closing in.

You chuckle. “Forgetting my boyfriend’s name might hinder the investigation a bit—”

“Don’t fuckin call him that.” Mando snaps. “He’s not your fuckin boyfriend. Your relationship with him means nothing. I have more claim to this cunt than he does.” He says as he cups your pussy and rubs it over your pants.

“Oh please, your cock’s never even been inside of me, sir.” You say staring deep into Mando’s visor.

“You always get your fuckin way don’t ya?” Mando says as he finally relents. He doesn’t fucking care anymore. Everything about you turns him on: your voice, your scent, the way you stare at him with those innocent looking doe eyes. He just needs to be inside of you.

Mando rips your shirt clean off your body and tears a strip of fabric from it.

“Another of my shirts!?”

“Ungh shut up. Unless you want me to fuckin gag you with the other half.” Mando growls as he ties the blindfold over your eyes. He quickly yanks your pants and panties down your legs, leaving naked and blindfolded sitting on his table once again.

You hear him remove his helmet and unbuckle his pants. He returns between your legs and pulls your body flush against his bare chest— he's removed his shirt as well. A soft moan escapes your lips as you run your palms up and down his muscular abdomen, relishing in the privilege of feeling his firm naked torso with your own hands. His erect cock is pressed up against your thigh, and….fuck it’s big.

Mando plants his plump lips on your neck and begins devouring your soft skin with his mouth as his fingers find you find your pulsing clit. He draws tiny circles on your bud and you feel his lips begin to suck harder on your neck, pulling your flesh into his mouth and teasing it with his teeth.

“Sir he’s gonna see!” You say craning your neck away from his face. Your breathing picks up as Mando continues to stimulate your clit.

“Good.” Mando breathes out into your ear. “That prick should know who you really belong to.” He says moving to the other side of your neck and sucking an unmistakable hickey into your skin.

You bring your palm up to his scalp and lightly tug at his hair. “Mando, seriously, makeup can only do so much.” You say trying to pull him off your neck.

Mando growls as he grabs your hands and forces them behind you. Holding them behind your back with one hand, he cups your face tightly with his other. “Seriously.” He snarls in a deep tone. “I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck. if your boyfriend knows I fucked you.” Mando declares as he returns his fingers to your sopping wet pussy. “Shit. I fuckin want him to know, baby.”

You whimper as he drags his lips down to your tit and sucks your hardened nipple into his mouth. “If my cock’s gonna be in you, I get to mark you however I fuckin want. You understand?”

“Yes sir.” You whine in response

Mando shoves two fingers into your mouth. You whimper as you suck on them; he drives them so far into your mouth that you gag, and you hear him let out a faint smug chuckle.

Removing his digits from your mouth, he slams you down on the table so that laying back with your pussy teetering the edge.

Mando shoves your legs further apart and then spits onto your wide open cunt. He brings his saliva-coated fingers to your pussy and abruptly shoves his middle finger into your hole.

“Ah!” You gasp in a high-pitched voice at the sudden penetration.

Mando pumps his finger in and out of your tight hole before adding a second one. Your mouth falls open as he scissors his fingers to stretch you out.

“You like that baby?” Mando says.

You nod your head as you let out soft breathy moans.

“Ha. Not such a big talker now, are ya?” He mocks.

You feel Mando line up his tip with your entrance before he slowly pushes a few inches in.

Your back arches as you scream at the incredible stretch of your walls. His girth alone is already overwhelming you, and can’t imagine taking the rest. “Fuck! Mando you’re too big!” You assert.

“Nah baby you can take me. This is what it feels like to be stretched by a real man’s big fat fuckin cock. You’re just tight as shit little girl.” He says as he begins slowly pumping half his length in and out of you. “Hmmf. No wonder that loser cums so fast.” Mando says under his breath.

Your ankles are hooked around Mando’s waist. He grabs a steady hold of your hips and then all of the sudden bottoms out with no warning, thrusting all the way into you as he grunts.

“Ah! Fuck fuck!” You scream out in pain as your pussy clenches down on his cock.

“You’ve got this baby.” Mando purrs. You take deep breaths as he starts slowly driving his member in and out of you.

The pain partially subsides as it’s mixed with unbelievable pleasure. Mando steadily thrusts into you and your screams turn to gratifying moans.

“Goood girl. That’s it.” Mando coos as he begins picking up the pace. “Shit this pussy is good. She sucks up my cock so fuckin well; needs me deep inside.”

You bring your hand down to your stomach as Mando pumps into your hole over and over again, and can feel the outline of Mando’s cock bulging out each time he enters you. “Holy shit. I– I can feel your cock in my s-stomach. You fill me up soo good!”

Mando puts his palm on top of your hand and pushes down. “That’s right.” He grunts as he feels the pressure on his cock.

Mando pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing him a better angle into your pussy. “Flexible little slut aren’t ya?” Mando mutters.

He begins driving his cock into you fast, pounding your G-spot each time. “Ah! Holy shit. Right there sir!” You moan out.

“Yeah?” Mando says as he starts circling your clit with his fingers.

Your nails dig into the edge of the metal table that you are grasping onto as your back arches impossibly high up. With your mouth open as wide as it can be, lewd moans and screams fall from your tongue as you’re unable to conjure up any coherent words.

“Awwww how adorable. Your first time being cockdrunk baby girl.” Mando says.

His brutal pace continues as he leans forward and sucks a hickey onto your tit. You claw and scrape his back, surely leaving marks as you feel your orgasm rise.

“Fuck. I’m gonna cum!” You announce as you feel your entire body tense.

“Do it.” Mando whispers in your ear. “Cum on my cock pretty girl.”

You’re panting and screaming as your orgasm rips through your body.

“Uhhhhh fuck yeah.” Mando breathes out as he feels your cunt fluttering on his cock. His lips suck on your collarbone and then make their way done to your tit. He pulls your cleavage into his mouth, sucking on your tender skin and marking it with his teeth.

“I’m gonna cum inside you.” Mando states. “I want you to be bruised, with my cum dripping out of you the next time you see that fucker.” He pants into your ear.

Mando’s pace slows, but he starts pushing into you with an astounding force, pulling his cock almost all the way out before slamming incredibly hard back into you. He stands up straight and reinforces his tight grips on your hips, holding you still as he drives into you.

“Tell me you’re gonna leave ‘em.” Mando commands.

Thrust.

“I- I’m gonna leave him sir!”

Thrust.

“Tell me you’re never gonna—”

Thrust.

—let him fuck you again.”

Thrust.

“Of course not sir!”

Thrust.

“I’m the only one who gets to fuck this—“

Thrust.

—this cunt from now on.”

Thrust.

“Got it?”

Thrust.

“Yes! Just you!”

You feel his warm juices spew deep inside of you. “Ahhhh.” Mando moans out as his cock twitches against your walls. “Fuuuck.” He pants as he slowly pulls his length out of you.

Body still shaking, you sit up on the table, waiting to hear Mando put his helmet back on. You feel Mando’s hand on your waist before feeling him put a shirt over your head. “Here you go baby girl.” He purrs in a deep raspy voice.

His touch is gentle as he helps you put your arms through the sleeves and lifts you off the table back on your feet. He slowly lifts the fabric off of your head as he looks down at your beautiful eyes.

The blind fold is lifted off your eyes and you’re met with a fully-clothed and helmeted Mando, almost cradling you in his arms.

“You meant what you said, right?” Mando says softly.

“Meant what I said about….?”

“You’re gonna leave him, right?”

You pause for a moment as you look down at your feet. “….Why do you want me to leave him?” You ask bringing your gaze back up to his visor.

“B-because…. because he’s a fuckin asshole. You deserve better than him.” Mando contends.

You exhale. “No, Mando, that’s not good enough. Why don’t you want me to be with him? You….you have to say it so– so I know that it’s real.”

Mando looks deep into your wide eyes and holds you a little closer. He swallows and cups your cheek. “I– you belong with me, y/n. I want you to leave him….because you deserve better, and because I want to be with you.” Mando professes.

A gentle smile stretches across your face. “Okay.” You whisper.

*********************************

Masterlist

*********************************

Taglist:

@pinkninja200 @raspberrymama @stevie75 @tacticalsparkles @kenoobiwan @shark-s @theamuz @blackrose8425 @beskarboobs @smutslutz @princess-djarinn @spideysimpossiblegirl @riot-rotten @javierpinme

[maxwell-grant]

So, thoughts on Better Call Saul last season ?

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

..............Okay, so

I'm still not having an easy time dealing with the fact that this show is over. I started watching Breaking Bad with my mom circa 2013, right as the 5th season was ending, and soon afterwards we'd started watching Better Call Saul together when it first began airing in 2014. I quite literally grew up with this show from adolescence to adulthood, it just always being there, something me and her would look up to every year or so. There's really nothing else out there that's comparable to this, in terms of my experience with it.

My first school assignment with video (pretty much the first time I ever filmed a project of any kind) was me doing a parody of that "That's why I fight for you Albuquerque!" commercial, and that was way before Better Call Saul began airing. This character's just been a part of my life for so long, I moved through homes 4 times and even then, there was always looking forward to watching Better Call Saul on the couch with her with every year or so. It was just always there, and it never felt like it was gonna leave.

I know I'm being dramatic but, man, it really feels like the end of an era to me, because it is. Just, 9, almost 10 years, coming to an end.

I guess I don't have as much to say now as I did last post considering I've been reblogging BCS posts and dropping thoughts in the notes but, here goes:

Oh man was I scared when Lalo Salamanca crashed through the laundromat's rooftop, killed Gus and proceeded to take over Los Pollos Hermanos as well as the franchise with his own vlogging spin-off. I was a little unsure that Lalo could carry his own show but, Tony Dalton really made it work, and Cocina de Lalo really sweeped the Emmies this year so, can't argue with results, y'know. I know the fanbase was kinda mixed on the Hamlin & Salamanca Graveyard Smash episode but it definitely felt like a major step-up as far as LGBT representation in this universe.

Anyway, rest in piece king. Besides getting a ghost boyfriend, you ended up ruining like 4 relationships and causing your lawyer to go off the deep end so badly he ended up creating the world's most pathetic monster that would eventually bring down Gus for good so, congrats Lalo Salamanca for winning the cartel war purely by dicking around.

I'm glad that Giancarlo won that TV Icon award apparently based almost entirely on his performance in that wine bar scene because, Jesus, talk about an all-timer way for us to say goodbye to Gus. I'm glad that they never showed Gus again, that was the perfect note for the character to leave us forever on. Again, victory has to be bittersweet, and he has to get the choice to walk away from this, only he doesn't really get a choice.

Giancarlo's ability to wordlessly convey volumes of inner turmoil was so good, I love so much about Gus' presentation and how non-verbal it is in the moments where it matters most. Also love that they somehow worked in a way for Gus and Lalo to Villain Monologue at each other prior, 10/10.

I kinda missed Jonathan Banks this season, but Mike was such a fixture in the early seasons of the show (and back then, the only part that interested me, I was a little too young and restless to stay awake for much of the lawyer business in Seasons 1-3) that, I get why he had to take a backseat. Dearly loved all of the Mike scenes in this season as well. Also, still miss Michael Mando, and if anything is gonna get me to rewatch this show (and it's far from just one thing), it's gonna be getting to see Michael Mando as Nacho again and really appreciate the character and all he brought to it.

I wasn't actually looking forward that much to seeing Walt and Jesse again because I was kinda afraid that, with BCS already kind of being seen as living in Breaking Bad's shadow, that it was gonna be this whole thing and, honestly I was fine with them not showing up at all. I thought the RV scene was neat and didn't think much besides that.

But then that Kim &Jesse scene happened and suddenly I remembered that, oh yeah, I fucking love Jesse Pinkman and he's one of my favorite characters ever, and here he is interacting with another of my favorite characters ever, and oh God Aaron Paul's doing such an amazing job at playing S1 goofball Jesse, this can't be easy, and oh this scene is so incredibly meaningful and of course they're gonna have Jesse Pinkman deliver bullshit monologues about Baby Jesus and his idiot friends while completely unaware of the massive weight of the narrative ready to pounce on him from behind, and of course it's Kim who has to pass the torch to him.

I was of the opinion that El Camino wasn't really something that had to exist but, nobody in their right minds would complain about getting another hour plus of Aaron Paul as Jesse Pinkman, completely on his own, getting to claw for a set-in-stone freedom one last time. That said, I deeply love this being the last we ever get to see of Jesse Pinkman. This kind of fleeting glimpse into what he was, what we first knew him as, his innocence and humor here heavy with the weight of everything that's going to happen to him.

Crushing but strangely liberating at once, to see Jesse like this and to know for sure that, at the very end, away from his parents and Saul Goodman and Walter White and those fucking nazis, he will finally find his freedom and walk away with the closest this universe can give you in regards to a happy ending, just as Kim did.

(By Breaking Bad Irony)

And on the OTHER hand, I deeply loved that Walter White's final scene was a microcosm not just of the fly episode (which in itself was a deeply significant microcosm of the show), but also of his entire character and role in Saul Goodman's life. He shows up, makes mountains out of molehills, desperately tries to fix problems while making them infinitely worse, acts like a pedantic arrogant jackass the entire time, complains about his chronic inability to make decent life choices, and then just casually devastates the only person around him he can still bully, before leaving others to deal with the noise.

I love that, compared to his guns-blazing semi-redemption at the end of Breaking Bad and the bittersweet flashback at El Camino, to Better Call Saul, there is nothing redeemable about Walter and his lifetime of regrets, there is only the fallout of all he destroyed. In the end, Saul Goodman's big shot was just Worse Chuck, and nobody has anything but contempt for his name here. Rest in shit Heisenberg, nobody even dignifies you with your cool made-up name anymore.

We absolutely had to get a Chuck flashback and, in an episode heavy with the idea of regrets and time machines, of course this was gonna be Jimmy's. Maybe the one chance he ever had, to turn things around with Chuck, the one time Chuck ever reached out to him for a change, maybe the one time Chuck could have changed if only a little, and so could Jimmy.

Chuck is rightfully remembered as such a pain in the ass and even one of the reasons people disliked the show, and the current response to him always seemed to be 50/50 between "Chuck was a monster that ruined every chance his brother had at being good" and "Chuck was right about literally everything that Jimmy was and would be" but, I liked that his final scene just punctuates what an awful, awful tragedy it was for the both of them to turn out like this, that they both could and should have done so many things differently, that they both deserved better than to destroy each other like they did. That, more so than Walter or Howard, Chuck is Jimmy's biggest regret and the one he'd been dying to confess the most to.

If the running idea across most posts I've written or reblogged about this show is that Better Call Saul is a ghost story, there was really no other way this show could have possibly ended without the exorcism of it's greatest, most pervasive and dangerous ghost: Saul Goodman. And maybe Saul Goodman's never really gonna be banished for good, the prison mates will surely never let their hero die (and isn't that what Jimmy wanted Saul to be? A hero, the guy with the slingshot?), but we know better, and more importantly, Kim knows better. There's only one person who still knows Jimmy McGill, and it's the only person that matters, because this was a love story.

There was really no other way this could have possibly ended for Jimmy and Kim and, I love that in the end, the poster boy for dodging the law and it's consequences, the character who made a living out of slipping away scott-free, the King of Getting Away With It, was the ONLY major character in this world who ended up facing legal consequences for what he did.

Just, fucking Saul Goodman being the only major character in this universe who goes to jail and stays there, and of his own volition no less. They couldn't kill him, and they couldn't let him go free, he had to get a unique fate and that was it. They let him "win" and get 7 years, show that he very much could have just gotten away with it, but he didn't, because he changed, because he had to prove he'd changed, because it had to mean something.

Man am I glad that I just happened to download a couple of songs off the BCS soundtrack a few days prior to watching this, because when that final smoking scene started playing the track "Shared Smoke" that also played in the smoking scene in the first episode, I was SO glad to be able to recognize it.

I hope they don't do more spin-offs but, I would absolutely watch anything these people did. They made so much of what seemed like such an unworkable premise it's nothing short of magic.

It was a love story, first and foremost. It was also a ghost story. It was a crime drama. It was a lawyer show. It was a comedy. It was a horror show. It was a story about people becoming the worst versions of themselves. It was about the best versions of ourselves coming through at the last minute. It was a downfall and a redemption. It was the beginning of a legend and the end of an era. It was everything that could have possibly been expected of it and it was a million other things it had no right to be. It was a FUCKING SPIN-OFF and it held a grip on our souls and it's gonna be greatly missed.

Would have still liked to see Huell one last time though. Hope he's doing fine in Louisiana.

[nevertheless-moving]

Invisible Hand Chaos AU x 2

Star Wars Time Travel AU #31

Continuation from HERE

Anakin whirled to face his Master, “Did you know Yoda had a baby?” he asked incredulous and slightly betrayed.

“What? No. Also he could just be another of Yoda’s species. Obviously.” Internally Obi-Wan thought about the still unnamed larva in a hidden aquatic creche, but the Mandalorian’s associate even called him Baby Yoda...

“Unbelievable,” Dooku muttered. “That little green hypocrite.”

“Did you know about this?” Anakin asked the Sith Lord, temporarily forgetting about the fight in favor of the revelation that Yoda might also have a secret family.

“Of course not, the troll never tells anyone anything,” Dooku ranted, deliberately setting aside the fight in favor of unloading decades of suppressed irritation with his former Master.

“I feel we might be jumping to conclusions here-” Obi-Wan offered weakly. 

Anakin scoffed. “He literally just called him Baby Yoda,”

“Loathe as I am to admit it, your apprentice is correct. It would seem the Grandmaster of the order has been keeping some secrets.”

“This is absurd!” Obi-Wan protested as the small child on the balcony above tilted his head curiously, watching the conversation below with interest from the safety of his Buir’s arms. 

“I agree.” Anakin said self-righteously. “If Yoda can have a baby then- then everyone in the order should be allowed a family.”

“Anakin...”

“Anakin, as interesting is this all is, I’m still in somewhat of a bind over here,” the Chancellor called across the hall, irritated and somewhat alarmed by the sudden outbreak of peace in the room.

“We’ll be right with you Chancellor, don’t worry!” Obi-Wan called back. 

“We just need a minute to figure some Jedi business out!” Anakin added. 

“You there- Mandalorian” Dooku called up sharply. 

“...Yeah?” the Besker-clad warrior answered uncertainly.

“What is the parentage of the child in your arms? How did you come to possess him?” The count's question cut through everything else in the room, and the two Jedi held their breath as they waited for the answer.

The Mandalorian pulled Grogu in closer, “He is a foundling. I know his name as my child.”

“Mandalorians,” Obi-Wan and Dooku muttered, Obi-Wan fondly, Dooku with exasperation.

“What?” Anakin asked bewildered.

“The Mandalorian adopted him- hold on a second, I’m going to try something.” Obi-Wan said.

“Mando! Forgive me- Have you already attempted to return your foundling to his people and been denied? If not, we can show you where to find an elder of his kind.”

The Mandalorian stiffened. “I already found one of his people. It took a great deal of time; neither of us knew there were any others left in the galaxy. By the time I met Luke...the child was mine and we would not be parted long. The three of us began traveling together. He acted as mentor to Grogu, though he is too young to be considered the boy’s senior. In time...we decided it would be simpler to raise him as a warrior together. We are one.”

“Oh. How wonderful.” Obi-Wan said weakly. 

Anakin’s brow furrowed furiously and he lowered his voice “Master did I get that right? This guy is really good friend’s with one of Yoda’s people but the friend is not the Child’s biological father and they don’t know anyone else from the species?”

“He actually said he was married to one of one of Yoda’s people but other than that your conclusions are correct. Very good Padawan.” Obi-Wan nodded, attempting to wrap his head around the various implications.

Dooku made a triumphant hum, “Then, by simple inductive reasoning, and in the absence of an alternative candidate, we can assume that the Child is, in-fact, Yoda’s offspring.”

“Exactly!” Anakin agreed with Dooku excitedly. 

“Interesting that he would give the spawn to a Mandalorian, rather than the creche. Embarrassment, perhaps.” the Count mused. 

“Unbelievable.” Anakin agreed indignantly. 

“Ok, now hold on. Foundling is pretty literal most of the time-” Obi-Wan interrupted. “Mando- was the child entrusted to you or did was there a rescuing involved?”

“...I was assigned to find him as part of a bounty, but found the imps who I was supposed to give him to...unpleasant.”

“Imps?” Anakin asked. 

“There you go!” Obi-Wan said, with just a tinge of hysteria. “Yoda didn’t abandon the child- not that it necessarily is Yoda’s child- he was kidnapped.”

Anakin gasped, “Master! We have to save him!”

“Hold on now, Anakin- He seems perfectly safe at this point and we were here for the Chancellor remember?”

“You won’t be leaving here with the Chancellor or the child.” Dooku sneered. “I can sense the force potential- and I am in want of a new apprentice.”

“Over my dead body,” Anakin snarled.

“That can be arranged.”

“Hey Luke-” the Mandalorian said into the comm as the three swordsman began circling one another “-it looks like two of the Jedi are attacking the other- do you want me to get involved?”

“...Din, by any chance, are any of the laser swords red?”

“Yeah, the fanciest dressed one has a red lightsaber, the other guys are blue. Does it matter?”

“...Red lightsaber means not Jedi. I- hold on, I think I see you!”

The three combatants jumped apart again, looking up at the slight comm echo to the sound of footsteps and the absolutely blinding force presence of the approaching Jedi. 

Had he never learned shielding? Obi-Wan thought hysterically. “Or was he just so powerful that he never bothered restraining himself?”

He tried to exchange a glance with Anakin, but his padawan was too focused on straining to see the incoming Master force user of some kind- light, but not necessarily Jedi. He instead looked over at Dooku, shrugging in confusion. Dooku grimaced back at him in solidarity.

The being finally entered. He was- significantly taller and less green than Obi-Wan was expecting, but still probably shorter than anyone else in the room.

“Din- are you two alright?” The soft-faced man asked in a remarkably gently voice, appearance somewhat at odds with the overbearing power he exuded.

“We’re fine, Luke but look! More Jedi!” He gestured below. 

Luke peered over the balcony, eyes growing wide as they passed over the faces of everyone below. “hoLY KRIFF!” He shouted.

The ship shuddered and Obi-Wan glanced nervously out the view ports, suddenly remembered that the damaged ship only had so long before it fell out of orbit.

“Do you know them?” Din asked. 

“Do I- for fuck’s sake Din, I love you but I have literally shown you holopics of my father before.” Luke whispered furiously. The room unfortunately was utterly quiet and remarkably acoustic, meaning his words carried easily to the listeners below.

“FATHER!” Anakin yelled, causing Luke to wince, slapping a gloved hand to his face.

“FATHER!” He repeated loudly, head ping-ponging between Obi-Wan and Dooku as if trying to find a resemblance, before gasping to stare at the Chancellor, before gasping again to squint at Obi-Wan. 

“DOES EVERYONE HAVE A SECRET FAMILY!” He shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Oh for force sake- I do not have a secret son. Honestly, Anakin, he’s clearly in his 20s, be reasonable. His birth would however fit into the timeline of Dooku’s withdraw from the order.” Obi-Wan said, raising a brow.

Dooku puffed out his chest, “I did not fail to meet the Code, like so many of the pathetic masses. Before I left the Order I followed the rules precisely. When my disagreements grew too great, and my attempt for structured reform were repeatedly rejected, I left for ethical reasons, not personal ones. I looked at the code and decided it was failing the Jedi.”

He smirked and lifted his chin at the chancellor, who was watching the proceedings with an inscrutable expression, “My, my Chancellor, this is an interesting surprise.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “We’re not idiots, Dooku. Obviously the boy’s parents were force sensitive, look at him.” 

Dooku’s smirk grew wider.

“This is absurd! Again!” Obi-Wan threw up his arms and lifted his head to address the dark-robed young human, “Hello there, Luke, was it?” 

“Uh, yes. I’m Luke.” The powerhouse responded nervously. 

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi-”

“Yes, I know who you are.” Luke responded drily.

Anakin gasped. 

“He is not my son.” Obi-Wan muttered.

“I’m not Obi-Wan’s son.” Luke called down cheerfully.

“Oh.” Anakin slouched, oddly disappointed. He liked this guy for some reason, felt- connected to him. Maybe it was the dark robes, or the force signature that nearly rivaled his own (though it was somewhat lighter), or even the gloved hand that he suspected was mechanical. If he was Obi-Wan’s son than that would make him practically his brother! The Chancellor might be neat but Dooku...ugh.

“Would you be so kind as to tell us whose son you are? I realize its none of my business but you’ve peaked our curiosity. And then afterwards, regardless of your parentage, we would not mind help in rescuing the Chancellor of the Republic from this slowly crashing ship.”

“Right. Right.” Luke nodded. “Would you give me a second?”

He pressed his head to the side of Din’s helmet and started whispering rapidly, to quiet for anyone else to hear. 

The group below exchanged glances, beginning to tense up again. After a few seconds, the Mandalorian nodded and spoke, “Let’s do it. I trust your judgement.” Luke grinned and returned to the edge of the balcony. 

“Ok, I can help with the first, but not the second.”

“Perfectly understandable.” Obi-Wan replied.

Anakin bristled. “So Dooku is your father.”

Luke smiled at Anakin. “No. You are my father.”

Anakin blinked as Obi-Wan’s face twisted in confusion. “No...” he said slowly. “No, that’s not true. That’s impossible.”

Luke’s smile grew wider, “Search your feelings,” he said urgently, with the full weight of his force presence screaming honesty with every word, “You know it to be true.”

Anakin gasped as he reached out into the force to find...his son. Impossible, but true. The ground trembled, either with the immensity of the realization, or catastrophic engine failure.

“No.” Obi-Wan said clearly to Luke on the balcony.

“No.” He repeated firmly, snapping a finger in Anakin’s face to try and break him out of the trance he seemed to be in. “It’s not true.” He said to the room in general, incredulous it even needed to be said.

Dooku began slowly backing away. The confrontation was rapidly spinning out of his or his Master’s control; he had only stayed this long to indulge vain curiosity. Regardless if the boy was insane, lying, or a time-traveler, he was clearly powerful. The ship’s orbit was gradually decaying and with any luck he could use his dead man’s switch to speed up the crash as he departed, neatly killing everyone who could stand against him in one stroke.

“Anakin,” the lunatic on the balcony continued, “You can destroy the emperor. He has forseen this. It is your destiny! Join me, and together-”

Din cleared his throat.

Luke stopped and smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry! Sorry. Got a little...carried away there.” He coughed awkwardly into his fist.

“Anyway- yeah. I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m from the future, I guess we... time-traveled accidentally somehow? I uh- was kind-of quoting something you said to me once and you kept going along with it and... yeah, definitely got carried away. Sorry, I really don’t know how we got here but, weird stuff happens around me- one time I was on Yavin IV and these ghosts started- anyway. Long story. Surprise!”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ok...I might believe you’re Anakin’s son.”

Dooku had nearly reached a side door when his treacherous Master called out- “Anakin! Master Kenobi! Dooku- he’s getting away.”

Skywalker’s- Anakin Skywalker’s- attention snapped over to the Count and with a outstretched arm, he crumpled the steel door, throwing a beam across it for good measure. The ship moaned alarmingly and several more red lights began blinking at the navigation panel, unnoticed by anyone.

“Luke- son- I don’t know what Emperor you’re talking about, but help us defeat Count Dooku and save Chancellor Palpatine! After that- after that I’m happy to, um, join you? And meet your... husband? And padawan? Sorry, we were kind-of in the middle of something...” 

“Wow. Ok. I’m not sure if-” Luke started to respond before being interrupted by the Mandalorian.

“Wait, Dooku! I know that name!” Din said suddenly. “The covert hated him! He was the evil Sif Emperor you defeated, right?”

“...Sith Emperor. Din, darling and light of my life, as always, your grasp of history and recent current events never fails to amaze me.” Luke sighed.

“You must stop him, before he becomes Emperor,” Palpatine shouted desperately. 

Luke sighed again, more heavily. “Fine. FINE! Kriff the timeline, I didn’t ask to be born anyway. Din- go help capture...Emperor Dooku. Grogu- Pod. I’ll go- free the Chancellor.” The floor beneath them gave a lurch. “Before this ship breaks apart. Go!” 

Luke and Din jumped off the balcony as a shiny metal pod with a transparisteel view screen closed around Grogu, hovering between them, well off easy reach of the ground.

Din landed between Obi-Wan and Anakin, helmet turning to face each of them in turn, “...I’ll follow your lead.” He finally said, arming his weapons.

Obi-Wan grinned fiercely, “Excellent, Anakin, stay with me.”

“I was just about to say the same thing.”

“Mando, you- Is that the DARKSABER- ARE Yoouu- ugh you know what, I will ask after the fight. I will ask after the fight. How did the Mand'alor- NEVERMIND. Let’s just- FORCE I have so many questions-” 

“No time, Master!”

And the battle began. 

[beskar-cowboy]

Stolen Goods

Part 1 of the Nowhere Girl Series 

Summary: The Mandalorian is sent to capture you, he finds the task more complicated than expected. Maybe you two can help each other out. (9.4k words) read on ao3 here

Pairing: The Mandalorian x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, slightly dub-con for a moment but they both want it i promise, smut, canon typical violence, enemies to lovers, blood, hurt/comfort, a dislocated shoulder, PIV sex, rough sex, dirty talk OBVIOUSLY, major praise kink, fingering, age difference (not specified), me making a bunch of shit up, this takes place right before Episode 1 so no baby

A/N - this was supposed to be really rough hate fucking with Mando but it just turned into him endlessly praising you…. idk what happened but enjoy <3

The Mandalorian is pissed.

He’s worked with Karga for a while now, known him for years. He knows sometimes things get quiet, that there’s slim pickings for the more than eager bounty hunters who will pick up anything and anyone - just like him - for desperate credits.

But this? This was a new low. Even for Karga.

Up and coming Coruscant senator, Karga had informed the Mandalorian, she’s on the run from the Imps.

Mando had rolled his eyes underneath his helmet as he was filled in on details of the only puck Karga had for him. Ridiculous, sounded like a babysitting gig.

“Oh come on, don’t give me that look.” Karga huffed, rolling his own eyes at the emotionless beskar helmet.

The Mandalorian said nothing.

“Look, it’s a job, you want it or not?”

A waste of his fucking time was what it was.

Karga huffed again and removed the puck from the tabe but Mando was faster, his gloved hand slamming it back down and gripping it into his palm.

“This is all you have?” The Mandalorian pushed, voice weary through the vocoder.

Karga nodded solemnly. Mando tilted his helmet at the Guild leader, annoyed and unimpressed.

The man scoffed, he seemed amused, “Think she’ll be easy?”

“A kid who’s runaway from home… I’m not a babysitting service-”

“No one’s been able to track her down. I’ve got multiple pucks on her and no one’s come back for months. I’m running low on bounty hunters.” Karga nearly chuckled.

The Mandalorian felt his adrenaline spike. He needed a challenge, it wasn’t a hunt if it wasn’t a challenge.

“She’s no easy feat, Mando. She’s wanted for armed robbery, embezzelment and suspected murder. She’s a slippery one” He sighed, running a hand down his face in astonishment, a devilish smirk pulling at his lips, like he couldn’t help but be impressed.

Now that’s what piqued Mando’s interest.

You’re dangerous. It’s always more fun when they’re dangerous. It’s more of a challenge, it’s more rewarding.

The Mandalorian had been craving a challenge. Meaningless bounty after the other, cowards, pathetic con men, easy takedowns. All of it, it was becoming mind numbing.

He missed the tracking, the spying, the surveying, the chase.

The Mandalorian is pissed.

And that’s how he found himself here - fuming, chasing after some kid, the tracking fob lead him all the way to you.

You’re on Sriluur, one of the most grimy, crime infested planets in the system. Seems like a pretty obvious place to look, almost too obvious.

What would a wanted bounty be doing herer? Then again, nearly everyone on this forsaken planet is probably a wanted bounty somewhere, by someone. 

Maybe this is a very calculated move, hiding out amongst a never ending crowd of lowlifes and criminals, you just blend in, become faceless in a way.

But you, you couldn’t be more obvious even if you tried.

Mando finds you in a cantina: grimy, dingy, damp and dark. He’s confused, to say the least. You…. you don’t belong here.

There’s no way that you’re the one he’s chasing, the one he’s hunting, the one accused of robbery, embezzelment, suspected murder, on the run from the fucking Imps. The tracking fob went berserk when it landed on you, he had thought it was broken because there was no way it was you.

A runaway from Coruscant, an up and coming senator.

That all makes sense now that Mando’s looking at you. You fit the part, you’re clearly young, beautiful, fucking beautiful - Mando stays on that thought for a while, trying to make sense of it, make sense of you.

Why are you doing this? What do you have to gain, what are you running from?

You stand out from everyone here on this fucking planet, you’re a light amongst black holes, how do you not immediatetly make yourself a target?

He watches you for the most part of the afternoon from a dark corner of the cantina. He wonders what, or who, you’re waiting for. You’re armed - heavily armed for someone your size - like Karga said you’d be. Two blasters and some sort of rifle slung over one of your shoulders, three daggers and a vibroblade stashed in your jacket, all probably stolen, Mando decides.

Your eyes shine bright like suns, like jewels, glossy even in the low light of the cantina, they shine with something Mando knows too well: some sort of emptiness, bitterness, the need for something no one will give you, something you have to take yourself.

Two men step into the bar, they spot you before you spot them, Mando clocks. His heart rate picks up and he keeps his hand over his blaster, watching you, watching them. They sit themselves down at a table across the cantina from you.

The air shifts, it becomes too quiet and heavy with unsaid potential and Mando can’t be the one to move first, he’ll ruin whatever it is that’s building right now.

A blaster goes off.

One of the men falls face first onto the table he’s sat at - shot through the stomach, a singeing red, burning hole left on his lower half from underneath the table.

Things seem to move in slow motion: you rise from your corner, blaster outstretched towards the now lone man, him rushing towards the back entrance. Mando follows behind you as you chase after the man, shouting out at him, shouting out a name, one Mando doesn’t recognize and he feels so out of place.

He stays near the doorway, watching as you corral the man out in the alleyway, in plain daylight and hold him at gunpoint.

The good thing about being on a planet like Sriluur is that no one bats an eye at street violence, no one’s going to snitch on a good alley fight.

You cuff him almost too easily, knocking him to the ground with an easy kick of the leg. You’re good, clean and swift - Mando guesses you have to be since you’ve been on the run for so long.

It also doesn’t hurt that you’re stupidly pretty, he can’t help but think.

“Where’s the loading dock?” You interrogate the man, blaster pressed to the back of his head as your boot stomps him into the ground, hands cuffed behind his back.

Your voice goes straight to Mando’s belly igniting something akin to a volcanic eruption or a swarm of butterflies - which one, he’s not sure but fuck did you sound sweet. To sweet to be so fucking fierce.

“Y-You won’t reach it before the shipment.” The man groans, face grimaced in pain as you press into his back harder, jamming the nozzle of the blaster into his neck.

“Where is it?” You grit from behind clenched teeth, cocking the gun. The man quivers, lip trembling as he tries to wriggle out of your grip but you’ve got him right where you want him.

“Out- out west! Past the badlands, into the desert but you won’t make it on foot-”

Like an idiot, Mando’s tracking fob slips from his pocket and both the man and you snap your heads in his direction, like he interrupted some sort of performance.

Your eyes land on the tracking fob before Mando can say anything, your blaster goes off and the man’s head thuds against the ground, dark syrupy blood pouring out from the back of his skull.

You got what you needed, so you make a run for it.

The Mandalorian calls after you but you bolt quickly down the alleyway, making as many sharp turns as possible to throw him off. You run with no particular direction, no set route in mind. You’ll head west once you’re sure he’s gone but you have to lose him first.

A Mandalorian, you can’t believe they sent a fucking Mandalorian after you.

You whiz down the streets of the criminal planet, pushing past vendors, scammers and junkies alike, trying to lose yourself in the crowd. You’re quite good at it actually, making a run for it, losing a hunter, but he’s got a tracking fob. That’ll be a challenge.

Glancing behind you, you see no shiny helmet bouncing through the crowd, you don’t want to be so bold to assume you’ve already lost him so you keep running. You decide to run towards your speeder, if you can’t out run him you can definitely gain some distance between the two of you this way.

Looking around you, you situate yourself, trying to figure out which way to run in order to make it to your speeder as quickly as possible and out run the fucking Mandalorian.

It must be a few blocks down, you run further south into the downtown area, knowing you hid it in an alleyway near a picked over fruit stand.

You’re close, you’re so close to your bike, just a few more blocks.

You round another corner, searching your pockets for your keys and that’s when he smashes into you, knocking you to the ground.

Pain radiates through your body from the impact of unforgiving beskar, your ears ring and your eyes go blurry.

You reach for your vibroblade, managing to knock his helmet with your elbow in the process. The Mandalorian goes down and you roll yourself over, trying to disarm him only to find that he holds neither a blaster nor cuffs.

What?

Was he not after you? Was he not just hunting you down?

Your lapse of confusion breaks your concentration and he manages to pin you down, rolling you over and pinning your hands above your head as he sits himself on your chest. The wind is nearly knocked out of you as he crushes you into the dirt with his weight, stars fog your vision as a headache sets in, ears possibly bleeding. You feel like you’ve been hit with a gong.

“W-Who sent you?” You try to ask, voice fuzzy as your head pounds. You can barely focus on him, on the intimidating T shape of his visor as he pears down at you from above.

You should be terrified, you should be trying to push him off of you but you don’t feel threatened. He’s unarmed. You're still trying to figure out why.

Mando has a moment to take you in now, realizing that Karga was right; you really are young. Not that young just, younger than him and sparkling in the daylight where he can see all of you now.

Your face, your eyes, perfect eyebrows, a scar on your cheek that Mando finds himself wanting to touch. You’re pretty and... dirty. Gritty. Like you coated yourself in something in order to fit in better amongst the scum here.

“Doesn’t matter.” He grunts, easy up his hold on you once he realizes he’s practically smothering you.

You groan, eyes squinting, the sun suddenly seeming harsher now, hurting your eyes. Your vision slowly comes back, things aren't as blurry and you’re overwhelmed by how close he is.

“Why are you doing this?” The Mandalorian asks.

You don’t know what he means by ‘this’, so you grunt and push him off of you, he lets you, rolling off to the side. You’re dizzy as you stand up, trying to find your footing and shooting the Mandalorian and more than confused glare. What the fuck is he trying to pull right now?

You both know he’s here for you, he’s literally got your tracking fob beeping on his holster.

But he’s not cuffing you, he’s not threatening you. You’re both just… starring. At each other.

Maybe it’s a moment of recognition, acknowledging whatever it is that’s going on here. He’s after you, but he’s… not? You should be the one asking questions.

You let your hand slide up over your shoulder, reaching for your rifle but you’re stopped short by a flashing bright pain in your shoulder. You wince, hissing and bringing your arm back down to your side.

You give the Mandalorian a daggering glare before you turn to inspect your bike, checking to make sure nothing’s been stolen from your satchel which you stupidly left slung over the back while you were in the cantina.

Fuck, he really had slammed into you, hadn’t he? He came at you full speed, knocking you down to the ground with his entire body weight and then fucking sitting on you, like an idiot. He hadn’t necessarily meant to do that, he’s not quite sure why he feels so bad but, he does.

“Why are you running away from Coruscant?” He presses and you roll your eyes, even though your back is turned on him now, trying to ignore the late onset pain searing through your shoulder.

You stay silent, just focusing on making sure everything’s in your bag so that you can head out to the -

“What loading dock are you looking for?”

You whip around towards the Mandalorian, hand on your smaller blaster, prepared to pull it on him.

“What do you know about the loading dock?” You seethe.

The Mandalorian keeps a steady watch on your hand, twitching over your blaster. He raises his hands in surrender. Maker, you’re jumpy.

“Nothing more than you do.”

You fling your blaster from your holster, finger on the safety trigger and aim it at the heavily armoured Mandalorian.

You mentally curse yourself, how ironic would it be if your blaster fire ricocheted off of his arm and came back at you.

Better have good aim then. You flick it over that spot near his belly, where the armour separates. Maybe you should shoot him in the arm, get him back for what feels like a dislocated shoulder.

Even Mando can notice how your arm hangs heavy by your side, how you hold back from moving it too much, your balance nearly thrown off due to the now useless limb. That needs to be popped back into place.

“Who are you?” You seethe, trying to get him to focus, take you seriously.

“I just want to help.” He speaks softly, voice coming out low from his vocoder. Maybe it would sound nicer if you weren’t on the verge of shooting him.

You roll your eyes, switching off your safety and cocking your blaster. “Better think of something fast, shiny.”

“I can help you get there. I-I can help you reach the dock.”

That piques your interest. Fine, you’ll humor him.

“I’m fine with my speeder-”

“It’s broken.”

What?

You squint in the Mandalorian’s direction, not quite believing him and not wanting to take your eyes off of him to inspect your speeder.

“How do you know it's broken?”

The Mandalorian can’t help but grin underneath his helmet. You take his silence as your answer and you growl something incoherent, chucking your blaster onto the dirt and turning around to inspect your bike.

Mando had managed to track your speeder down before he found you in the cantina. He saw you pull up on it and followed your dark figure into the city before he even got a good look at you, just trusting the fob.

He took out your engine, destroyed it, you see pieces of it now scattered amongst the alley. You kick the now useless speeder, much like your useless arm. Was he trying to take you down slowly? Break you apart piece by piece like a slow and easy kill? He’s toying with you.

“I have a ship.” The Mandalorian speaks, breaking the tense silence.

You turn to face him again, he leans against the opposite side of the narrow alley. “What’s in it for you?”

The Mandalorian says nothing, he keeps his visor trained on you but he nervously fiddles with his own fingers.

“What do you gain from helping me? Aren’t I just a bount-”

“I have a feeling I’m after the wrong person.”

Oh?

“Bold of you to assume.” You scoff, nearly laughing at him but you don’t want to waste this opportunity. It’s not everyday you’re offered the services of a Mandalorian. You’re just not sure if you can trust him yet.

“Tell me what you’re after.” He presses again.

You’re reluctant to talk. Opening up isn’t your… speciality, so to say. Especially not with strangers. Especially not strangers who have a fucking tracking fob on you.

Fuck. You don’t see how you have any other options right now. A broken speeder and a useless arm, you realize it’s this guy or nothing.

You groan something frustrated and slightly pained. “Fine. I’ll fill you in on the way, shiny.”

//

You were born into it, as most people are on Coruscant.

Born to a cold, unforgiving family focused on politics and appearances. You were always going to become a senator or something of the sort, you had informed Mando.

None of the kids had a choice and no one cared to do anything about it, no one cared to change things, help the planets that were being robbed and forgotten about. So you had decided to do something about it.

You broke free a few years ago and have been robbing from the Imperials ever since. They have these fancy, luxurious, expensive getaway houses and cottages all across the galaxy and you follow them like bread crumbs on a trail.

The cottages usually indicate some sort of side business, the Imperials leaving their families to go on a ‘business vacation’ - which really means illegal government shit, obviously.

Planets which house their cottages also house their loading docks, outposts, trading posts, anything that helps them keep the wealth in this incognito backtrade, away from the official systems and taxes, just continuously fueling the 1%.

But you, you’d been stealing from them. You infiltrate the loading docks and outposts, you reroute the goods to the planets and communities that the corrupt government forgets about, like Sorgan, Kashyyyk and Endor to name a few. You make sure they get what they need, what the higher ups try to keep for themselves.

You steal it from them and redistribute it equally, fairly - leaving none for those in Coruscant.

He doesn’t feel sorry for you; you’ve had nothing but privilege your whole life, you chose to leave it, to fight for something. You took it upon yourself to stand up and fight the only life you’ve ever known.

He doesn’t feel sorry for you, but Maker are you good.

You have a purpose, something to fight for, something that drives you every single day. Something you care about. That’s not something a lot of people can say they have, definitely  not some criminal on Sriluur, or even a bounty hunter like him.

No wonder the Imps are after you. You’re killing men left and right with such ease it seems. You’re fucking good to have been on the run for this long, to be this successful.

Mando’s just thankful he didn’t turn you into them with what limited information Karga gave him. It’s a good thing you’re pretty.

“Not everyone can be a mindless cog in the machine, one piece breaks loose and the whole thing falls apart.” You explain while you and the Mandalorian trek through the cool, dark and seemingly never ending desert of Sriluur.

You had told him that you couldn’t fly too close to the loading dock. They’re armed, they have men on the lookout, radars searching for ships flying overhead. You had said they would see you coming from a mile away, way before you would even see them.

So Mando landed the ship quite a distance aways, just outside of the Badlands. You would have to walk the rest of the way, through the night so that you make it there in the early morning.

“I realized it was either going to be me or someone else who was going to have to make the first move, and I was tired of waiting for something to happen so I just… I just ran.” You shrug, as best as you can with your fucked up shoulder but you wince at the dull pain.

You’d been walking for hours now, and your arm was only hurting more and more. Mando would have to do something before you reached the dock, there was no way you’d be able to fight, or even shoot, in this condition.

“Let me look at yo-” The Mandalorian reaches out to you but you jerk away from him, grimacing again at the dull pain which radiates throughout the heavy limb.

“I’m fine.” You groan, supporting your arm with your other one, trying to hold up the dead weight.

“You’re not.”

You groan. He’s right, you know it. You know he is but you don’t want to go through with having a stranger pop your arm back into place.

Weighing your options, you come up on a dead desert tree and you quickly lean your weight on the dead and hollow bark, trying to calm yourself down and breathe through your nose.

“I can help.” He offers, hands twitching near his sides.

You glare at him, look him up and down as he slowly approaches you. You say nothing, he takes this as confirmation.

Gently, the Mandalorian takes your forearm into his gloved hands, taking some of the dead weight for you and you sigh a bit at the relief.

“You ever done this before?” You ask, trying to make small talk and distract from the way he’s touching you so preciously, how close he’s standing to you. Whatever, whatever, whatever, this is totally fine.

“Nope.” Great.

Mando can see the fear in your eyes, the fear of the sudden pain that’ll come with snapping your arm back into its socket, the fear that he might fuck it up. He knows you don’t trust him, he knows you’re letting your guard down for this, to let him help you. He thinks you’re brave for that.

So he takes off his gloves.

And you watch in a mix of amazement and shock at the tanned and calloused skin which is slowly revealed to you. “H-Hey isn’t that not allow-”

“Shut up.” The Mandalorian grunts, voice deep and gravely and regrettably making your stomach flutter. You swallow your protests and let him do what he needs to do.

He inspects your arm and you let him, somewhat losing yourself to the touch of another, skin on skin - his warm and weathered hands on your hot flesh. It feels good, a nice contrast to how he body slammed you earlier today.

The Mandalorian sighs. “Mando.”

“What?”

“My name, call me Mando.” He tells you, visor trained heavily on you, gauging your every reaction.

“O-Okay.” You gulp, unable to look away from the pitch black, intimidating T of his visor. You didn’t realize how close he was to you, you think you can hear him breathing under that helmet of his.

“Let me hear you say it.” His hands wrap around your bicep, testing the muscle it seems and your face burns at his tone, how deep his voice has gotten.  

“M-MandOH!” He jerks your arm upwards right as you say his name and he watches your face twist in pain. That fucker. He was trying to distract you and it worked.

“Okay, okay- is it in?” You ask as a sweat breaks out on your hairline from the pain, your body quickly overheating as you breathe heavily.

“No.” Mando answers. You’re about to go off on him when he continues, “Y-You’ll have to take your shirt off… I can’t see the muscles like this.”

“You’re kidding me.” You groan, eyes closing tight as you try to calm yourself down, your mind growing heavy.

You can’t believe this is fucking happening, this day is not going at all how you planned. Regardless, you use your still intact arm to reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your torso as much as you can before the pain from your other arm stops you with a pained moan.

“Here-”

Mando moves closer and nearly pins you to the tree, grabbing the hem of your shirt into his hand and gently pulling it the rest of the way, careful to remove it from your injured arm before he tosses it over his shoulder so it doesn’t get covered in sand.

Mando doesn’t look - he swears he doesn’t…. Until he does.

His burnt red breast plate is nearly grazing against your chest, barely covered by the thin material of your bra.

Your chest heaves with pain laced breaths, your body trying to regulate something to get anything under control again. The curves of your breasts shine with sweat, you glimmer in the moonlight and Mando finds himself wanting more and more to put you at ease, to lick you, taste you, clean you of your sweat with his own tongue - you pretty, young thing.

His head is getting foggy, he needs to focus on the task at hand but that isn’t so easy when the task is you.

Mando looks up to find your eyes growing heavy, your body growing tired with exertion and going numb to the pain.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Mando reassures, the hand which isn’t supporting your arm coming up to hold your jaw, hold your head up, thumb caressing your cheek. You smile groggily.

“Y-You’re… you’re fault.”

Yeah, he knows that. He could have looked where he was going and not have rammed you into the ground and this whole ordeal could have been avoided.

“I know. I… I’m sorry. We’re almost done.” You take it he doesn’t apologize often and you giggle dopily.

Your eyes droop and Mando gets nervous. He taps your cheek a few times, your skin hot to the touch and it worries him.

“Okay eyes on me, pretty girl.” You hum something content, trying to wiggle your body closer to his but he holds you tight, keeps you pinned against the tree. That’s hot.

“You called me- called me pretty.”

“Yeah, yeah I did, now keep looking at me, okay” Mando flushes underneath his helmet but he returns his attention to your supple arm, grabbing the fleshy area near your shoulder tight. His touch is so wicked, it burns. You hate it.

“Okay, shiny.”

Mando grabs your shirt off of his shoulder and brings it to your mouth, ordering you to ‘bite’. He shoves it into your mouth, your saliva quickly soaking into the fabric and Mando has to look away from your pretty little mouth.

“It’s going to hurt.” He tells you and you grumble something back to him but it's muffled by the pretty fabric he tucked into your mouth.

Your eyes are nearly glazed over, shiny and heavy and he’s so fucked for thinking about how you’d look just like this if he fucked you until you were numb, rendered dumb and thoughtless at the end of his cock. All fucking shiny, wet and-

You scream as he whips your shoulder bone back into its socket.

Tears slip past your eyes and drool spills from between your lips and into your shirt. The skin of your arm is hot to the touch but it’s there, it's back in place. Mando did it.

He lets you cry, lets you fall forward into him and sob into his cowl. Mando holds you against him and gently rubs the muscle of your shoulder through your flesh, making sure everything is okay and in the right place. You twitch in his hold, trying to get away from his touch by retreating back further into him. It makes his cock twitch.

Mando shushes you, massaging up and down your arm as you shiver in his hold, overcome with adrenaline and exertion. You feel completely wiped out from the pain alone but your body jitters with energy.

“T-Thanks.” You tremble, voice exhausted but it seems like your senses are already coming back to you.  

You pull away from Mando and take your shirt into your hands again, carefully shrugging it back on and ignoring the giant wet spot from your own spit. That was fucking humiliating.

Mando doesn’t respond, he just nods and watches as you cover yourself back up again. He already misses the fleshy warmth of your body against his hard and cold one.

You breathe a bit heavily, still winded from everything that’s just happened: your arm being snapped back into place, how close Mando was to you, how he touched you, manipulated your body so easily.

He called you pretty.

You mentally scoff at yourself, so fucking what?

You try not to care, you try to move on from that, but you tuck it away first; the way his voice sounded as he tried to soothe you, calm you down. You tuck that away for later, for when you’re alone again after all of this is over.

You grunt as you sling your rifle back over your shoulder, “Let’s keep moving.”

//

You reach the loading dock as the sun threatens to touch the horizon, the sky only starting to become a lighter shade of blue, signaling the early morning.

The perimeter is easy to breach, you get inside with few casualties. They only seem to have a few men patrolling this early in the morning - their weak spot, so it seems.

Mando willingly helps you and you’re grateful for the second pair of hands, you’re not used to having backup. You usually go in and come out alone. But you welcome this, he makes it too easy, it was already easy enough on your own, save for a few close calls over the years but he makes it easy.

With the two of you, you take them down and make good time of it too. You should be out of here, with the shipment of goods rerouted in under an hour.

And you do.

Everything works: you get the shipment out and you run out of the loading dock without much trouble, escaping blaster fire as you run back off into the desert, towards Mando’s ship.

He covers you, shields you with his armed body as you make a run for it, avoiding the open fire which has begun to rain down upon you. Someone must have sent a distress signal. It doesn’t matter though, the money is off to a deserving planet and you’ve got a Mandalorian shielding you with his own body. You did it.

You’re practically vibrating as you run up the open hull to the ship, losing the Imps and their men through the Badlands. You’re safe, you made it.

Mando closes the ramp before you’re even up all the way and you fall into him. He gives you no time to recover, hauling you further into the ship, dropping you in the copilot seat, setting coordinates to who knows where as the Razor Crest lifts into the air, beaming into hyperspace.

You’re panting, you’re both painting and breathing heavily. You barely notice that he’s up from his seat, crouching below you as he feels you over, squeezing your arms, like he’s trying to make sure you’re okay and you want to push him away for it, push him off of you but you can’t. You can’t.

That was so good. You did it.

“H-How’s your arm?” Mando asks, visor staring through your very being.

You nod your head affirmatively, unable to produce any words right now, staring down at his vacant visor without a thought in your mind except that you did it. You both did it.

Mando’s hand comes up to your face, holding your cheek and the back of your neck gently and it surprises you.

“Come on, words pretty girl. Need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m good, I’m good- promise.” You smile shakily, still reeling with adrenaline, your limbs still shaking.

You’re shocked at his insistence on calling you that. You don’t want to admit it but... you like it. Sort of.

You think Mando chuckles underneath his helmet, the vocoder distorts it but you hear the exhale of breath he lets out, the way his shoulders bounce lightly. He lets his hand trail down to your knee - subtle.

You feel giddy. We did it, you giggle to yourself, unable to contain the burst of energy pulsing through your body.

“You did it.” Mando adds and fuck -  did you say that out loud?

“I- no. I mean, you were there, you helped-”

He stops you mid-sentence, voice low, hushed and squeezing your knee tight. “Don’t be so fucking modest.”

You feel hot suddenly. Not just your face, you feel hot all over, your whole body coursing with it - indignation.

Whatever, you scoff, rolling your eyes and shoving at his shoulders. “Shut up, Mando.”

He moves both of his hands, letting them come to grip both of your thighs now and you hate the way it makes your eyelids grow heavy, threatening to roll back into your head if he adds just a bit more pressure.

“You’re difficult, you know that?” He grits even though you know it's not frustration or annoyance coursing through his blood.

You try to move your legs, push him away from you but he’s got you in this vice grip, pawing at you through your clothes.

“Only when I want to be.” Mando chuckles again, he’s amused.

Fuck do his hands feel good, it’s been so long.

“I don’t believe that.” He purrs, voice low and bassey and it goes straight to your cunt, which he’s growing increasingly closer to.

“Y-You don’t know me.”

His hands trail up your thighs, feeling the warmth seep through your pants and through the worn leather of his gloves as he nears the zipper. The helmet tips upwards to meet your completely dazed stare.

Gone is your fierce and biting tongue. You’ve gone quiet, all because of him - this stranger, this Mandalorian, a bounty hunter who has your fucking fob.

“You’re right, I don’t. But I know you’re good.” Mando tells you, fingers dancing up to the seam of your pants. You just stare at him, eyes wide and shining bright with hyperspace in their reflection. Beautiful. “How are you so fucking good?”

You know he’s not really asking, you know it’s a rhetorical question but -

“I’m not good, M-Mando.” You quiver as he rips the zipper down. 

You’ve stopped trying to push him away but you’re not encouraging him either, completely frozen in place by the intimidating black visor of his helmet, like some dark angel tempting you with death.

Rushed and hurried, Mando’s shucking down your pants and chucking them somewhere onto the floor of the cockpit. He bites the tips of his gloves, pulling them off and throwing them away just as carelessly.

Mando growls something fierce and terrifying, taking both of your knees in each hand and pulling you down the chair till your ass nearly hangs off the edge, spreading you so wide its fucking embarrasing.

“But you are.” He presses, so certain of this ‘fact’.

Then he’s spreading you again and it’s so lewd and wet. You can feel yourself dripping, making a mess all over yourself and you go hot, embarrassed as you try and look away from the black of his visor that’s intently trained on you and your soaked panties.

“Don’t you wanna prove to me how good you are?”

You can’t help the pathetic whimper that’s released from your throat as you nod your head too eagerly and without thought. He’s got you right in his line of fire, right where he wants you. It’s been too long since you’ve had someone take care of you.

You can’t bear to look at him as he hooks his fingers into the crotch of your panties, pulling them to the side to reveal your glossy cunt to him.

Mando can’t remember the last time he fingered someone’s cunt open to get them ready for him, all of him. He feels dizzy, sees literal star whizzing past him as he parts your lips, watches how your dark hole flutters and seeps for him, all dark and flushed and swollen for him, for his touch. You’re perfect.

Maker, does he want to taste you, to feel you cum on his tongue, on his face, feel how fucking hot you are on his lips but he can’t, he knows he can’t. So he’ll do what he can with his fingers, for now.

Slowly, he takes his index and sinks it into, your walls fluttering to let him in, suffocating the single digit already. Mando curses underneath his breath - you’re so fucking tightt, he can hardly believe it.

You cry out at the sensation, having had nothing but your own fingers for the past few months, one of his felt so much better, thicker and rougher. Tears are already welling in your eyes from the sweet relief.

Mando adds a second, not wanting to waste anymore time and starts scissoring you open for him, curling his fingers against the ridged wall and beckoning you towards him. Your back curls against the copilot seat, your hands flying upwards to grab the headrest of the seat, pressing your tits up and outwards underneath your thin shirt.

Even through your thin bra, Mando can tell your nipples are hard. He thinks about twisting them, biting them, licking at them, at you. Fuck, you’re so sexy.

“Dangerous girl,” Mando praises, growling and unrelenting in his thrusts, “how many men do you think you took out back there? Ten?”

You whine, eyes still squeezed shut, unable to take in the fucking Mandalorian between your legs, fingering your weeping cunt open.

“C-counted fifteen actually.”

Mando chuckles darkly, “Of course you did, show off.”

You laugh too but it’s cut off by a whine as he curls his fingers again, digging them into you and you see stars everywhere.

“Don’t have to- to show off when you're good.” You smirk, trying to give him your best shit-eat grin, finally opening your eyes and looking down at him beneath you like this.

He glows with the light of hyperspace, all the beaming stars reflecting off of his helmet, it nearly takes your breath away. His fingers are shiny with your slick as he drags them in and out of you, you can hear the way you pussy squelches for him, begging for more while you wither wordlessly for him.

“Hmmmm that’s right you - you good fucking girl, you’re such a good girl.”

There’s nothing you could have possibly done to contain the absolute wanton moan that leaves your chest at his sickening praise.

You never did any of this for attention, for praise, to make you feel better about yourself. You just felt it was your duty, to fix inequalities where you see them like those stupid senators claim they do but don’t. You never did it to be congratulated, to be thanked.

But when Mando praises you like this, calls you a good girl - fuck does that feel good.

He picks up the pace, his fingers fucking you open and you could cum just like this if he doesn’t stop soon. He feels it, feels you squeezing his fingers tighter than anything he’s ever felt before and he momentarily worries that he won’t fit, that he won’t be able to ram his cock deep into you but he knows you can take it, knows you’ll suck him in all desperate and wet for it.

Mando wrenches his fingers from you and you nearly scream at him for the sudden emptiness, your body convulsing and panting against the chair. He hasn’t even fucked you yet and you’re already completely debauched. Eyes glassy and skin glistening, you’re beautiful.

He stands to his full height, towering over you and casting you in his shadow. You look up at him through your lashes, chest heaving and legs spread wide, your core wet, shiny and flushed dark with arousal. You’re eye level now with his more than prominent bulge, cock straining against his pants and your mouth drools for it.

“Up, turn around.” He orders deep and low through his vocoder and you can’t scramble fast enough. Mando would chuckle at your desperation, degrade you and slap you around if he wasn’t so fucking desperate for it himself.

You do as he says, facing the other way and clutching the headrest of the set again as you look over your shoulder at him, watching, drooling as he pulls his flushed and heavy cock from his pants. You nearly choke on your breath - he’s huge, red and angry and you’re worried it’ll shred you from the inside out, but you want it - you want it rough, mean, fucking primal and gross. You want him to ruin you a little bit.

You watch him as he knocks your knees further apart on the seat of the chair, opening you up for him. You stick your ass out, wiggling it at him in a desperate presentation and he grumbles something before he’s grabbing handfuls of your flesh into his hands, grabbing you hard and tight and it pinches - you wail something high pitched and pathetic, whining like a bitch for him.

Mando hooks your soaked underwear high on your hips, watching the fabric pull tight against your own skin. He plays with the band, making sure it’s still sufficiently pulled to the side, to let his cock just glide right into you.

Resting your chin on your shoulder, you look back at him from under your lashes as he lines himself up, notching the spongy head of his cock at your entrance and you could cry, you could actually fucking cry you want it so bad. But your tongue isn’t as easily tamed as your body.

“You ever- ever fuck a bounty before, Mando?”

He growls mean and gritty before he’s grabbing you by the hips and sheathing himself all the way to the hilt in your tight cunt, a moan is punched out of you from deep within. He reaches the end of you almost effortlessly - literally pushing the boundaries of your body. You feel him in your stomach, you feel him making room for himself.

“Maybe.” He grunts, blushing furiously underneath his helmet all the while thinking “no”. He’s never done this before. And it shows in how he nearly forgot that you were - still are - his bounty.

He forgets that he tracked you down, hunted you, dislocated your fucking shoulder while chasing you down on a gritty planet. Your pussy made him forget all of that and he’s embarrassed by it. Maker, you could kill him right now if you wanted to and there’s nothing he could do to stop it. He thinks he’d let you.

So he fucks you harder for it, pulls back out until just the tip of him is at your entrance before he’s spearing you in half, breaking you open on his thick cock and fucking you mean, like he’s angry with you.

You try and scoff at his feigned smugness but it comes out as a broken moan, your knuckles going white from how hard you're gripping the headrest trying to gain some stability from his punishing thrusts, the way he pulls you back onto his cock over and over again. “D-Doubt it.”

Mando’s vocoder distorts his voice, or maybe it really has dropped that low but he’s grumbling something animalistic and fucking feral, wrapping his forearm around your shoulders and hauling you back into him - until your back is flush with his rough and cold breastplate.

He holds you tight against him, hips snapping against your ass as you bounce in his hold, the velocity of his thrusts sending you reeling. You feel lost, thrown out into space without a lifeline - all you can do is hold onto his forearm for some semblance of stability as Mando fucks you into oblivion.

The cool metal of his helmet kisses your cheek and you hiss but let him press it against you anyways. You can feel his eyes on you from behind the visor, you know he’s watching every expression, hearing every pathetic little noise he’s pulling from you - a front row seat to your destruction.

“Why are you so- worried about it? Hmm?” He coddles, as if he were talking to a child. It’s condescending and you’re so fucked out of your mind already that you can’t even respond, can’t even bite back at him.

You’ve never been fucked like this before, never had someone reach so deep, spread you so wide, fuck you hard and open like a decimated fruit. It’s perfect - fuck, it’s so good.

“Am I not - shit - am I not fucking you hard enough, pretty girl?”

Mando’s hips grind up into you, shredding your insides and you cry; you feel legitimate tears spring from your eyes as you bend to his will, bend as he molds you to his cock. You let him.

Mando scoffs, or chuckles - you can’t tell. He leans in even closer, you swear you could feel his breath against your face if it weren’t for his stupid helmet digging into the side of your face.

“I know you like it when I call you that, g-get so fucking tight.”

You nod your head fervently, unable to produce any words as your pussy and stomach clench around him, that familiar fire burning so rampantly you feel like you could cum with one more word out of his mouth.

“Tell me.”

“I- I like it.” You barely manage to get out, voice gone and the wind fucked out of you. You have no energy or willpower to be able to speak properly - you’re on the edge of a mind-shattering orgasm.

Mando’s forearm flexes against where he holds your shoulders against his chest, his tanned hand moving to come and wrap around your throat, squeezing tight and angling your back like you would a bow. He fucks you deeper and harder and ruthless at this new angle, like a dagger to your insides - a warning.

“I-I like it when you - fuck! - when you call me p-pretty girl.” You wail, pussy squelching around his length embarrassingly loud as proof of your words, of his power against you. He hums, satisfied.

“Yeah? Yeah, you want it h-harder, pretty girl?” He asks and it's mean. It’s evil this time when he asks you, like he’s making fun of you as you tremble at the end of his cock, tired and wet and fucked out of your mind.

You nod your head pathetically, not caring anymore how desperate you are to cum, you just need him. You need Mando to keep fucking you.

“Yes! Yes, please just- just keep fucking me. D-Do whatever you want.”

Mando’s heart and cock flare at your words, igniting something deep inside him and he’s hauling you around, pulling his sopping cock from your cunt with a disgusting wet pop, your juices leaking all over him, the chair, the durasteel floor.

If he were being any meaner, if you were anyone else, he would have you lick it up, lick yoursef off the fucking floor but - Maker, he can’t think like that right now, he’ll get too light headed and pass out before he’s had a chance to cum.

He picks you up and lifts you onto the ground, laying you on your back less than gracefully before he’s shucking your top off of you along with your bra, leaving you in nothing but your soaked and drenched panties which still sit pulled to the side of your abused pussy.

Fucking look at you, eyes bleary and wet, fucked out of your mind like the rest of you. All shiny and wet with him, and your tits. You’re so pretty, naked on the floor of his ship like this.

Mando takes your nipples into both his hands and twists, pulling and groping at you like a brute and all you can do is arch your back, pressing yourself further into his touch like a mindless whore.

He lines himself up again, leveraging himself on your breasts and splitting you open again with too much ease this time, you’re so wet and dark and flushed like a pulverized fruit.

“P-Perfect pussy, you’re so fucking good.” He moans, sounding delirious.

His body is hard against your fleshy one, he revels in the way his armour makes you bounce and jiggle, how you take him so fucking well on the fucking floor. Shit, he won’t last long like this - you’re too good, you’re too good for him.

Mando paws at your tits, pulls at the flesh and gets lost in how soft and squishy they are as he pummels your poor pussy, squelching and spilling all over the both of you.

He swears he can smell you, even from underneath the helmet he swears he gets a whiff of your cunt, of your sweat, your skin. He wants to taste you so bad, lick every inch of you until there’s nothing left. Mando wants to devour you, he wants to keep you here, just for him to use like this. You’re too good, you’re too good at taking him, he can hardly believe it.

“Need you to cum.”

You nod your head, tears spilling into your hairline and Mando leans over you, gripping both your hands into his and holding them above your head, your legs wrapping high up around his waist.

Looking down, you watch him spear you over and over again without relent. Your world spins, it's thrown off kilter by the strength of his cock and you marvel at yourself for taking something that big inside of you. Mando’s thrusts are strong, deep and punishing, they’re fucking aggressive and you feel yourself tightening up at the mere sight of him - he’s huge, in every sense of the word.

It’s too much, he’s so much and your senses light up like a control board with nothing but him - nothing but Mando and before you know you’re crying out his name into the dead silence of hyperspace.

You pulse around him, suffocating his cock tighter than he thought possible and Mando’s head pounds in his helmet. He watches as you wither underneath him, fucking yourself on his cock as you work through your orgasm, moaning his name like it’ll bring you salvation - Mando, Mando, Mando, Mando.

For a split second he finds himself wishing it was his name, his real name that you were moaning, crying out like you’re wounded and you need him.

He imagines the way it would tumble off your lips, curl around your tongue and how it would taste to drink it from your mouth - Din, Din, Din.

Fuck - he’s cumming.

Mando doesn’t know why that did it for him, but he’s cumming. Feels his balls pull up tight and his cock twitches and pulses painfully hard and he’s drawing out of you and painting your tummy white with his seed.

You gasp when you feel his hot spend land on your heated skin, your eyes fly open and you lift your head to watch him jerk himself onto you.

He looks like a vision, a fucking pillar of silver, a monolith, towering over you. Except you’ve brought him to his knees, this fierce warrior, trembling as he finishes himself off, emptying himself onto your flesh instead of deep inside you. You can’t help but smile at him, drunk off of his cock as you watch him cum all over you.

“I have the implant.” You smirk, sitting up on your elbows now to admire his work.

“H-Huh?” He pants, chest heaving and cock still twitching. Fuck, he’s gorgeous.

“Could’ve cum inside me, Mando.” You tell him like you’re disappointed. You are.

Mando growls, lunging for you and groping your belly, smearing his seed into your flesh, painting you where he missed - your chest, breasts, collarbones, he rubs it as far as it’ll go.

He’ll offer you a shower once you’re both up, he tries not to think about what it would’ve felt like to cum deep inside your tight little pussy, how it would have seeped out around him, spilling out the sides and onto the floor along with the rest of your mess.

He would’ve fucked it deep, deep inside of you and watch you take it like the good girl you are.

Next time, he thinks. 

“Shut up.” He tells you.

//

Mando didn’t land in Nevarro like you thought he would.

Instead, you’re on another isolated, a far off one like you usually stick to - Kal’Shebbol.

You’re both quiet as you exit the Razor Crest, letting the noise of the planet fill in through your ears and Mando’s helmet as you walk towards the city.

The planet is nice enough, nicer than you’re used to actually. Tall and far off rolling hills and mountains which surround a modest city. It seems pretty modern from what you can tell as you approach it. Shining lights, even in the daytime, neon signs and loud bustle.

There’s crime here, you can tell, you can practically fucking smell it, you’ve become so familiar with its tang - you’ll do good here, that is… depending on what Mando’s got planned for you.

He doesn’t have you in cuffs, he’s not escorting you, you’re just simply… walking next to him and it’s confusing. You take a side glance at him and he just walks forward with a too-confident stride, seemingly not even worried about you.

So you let him walk with you, closer and closer to the border of the city before he slows down, ultimately coming to a halt. You keep walking however, testing him, wondering who will make the first move.

You make it about ten feet from him before he’s calling after you, your name never sounding so sweet. Stupid, you sound like a lovesick little girl. But you can’t help but smirk as you turn around to face him.

“I have to bring you in.” He calls out, yet there's no malice in his voice, no threat.

You smile at him, it feels genuine, you fucking devil. “Not if you can’t find me.”

Mando approaches you again with that saunter of his, like a true bounty hunter, a true threat. Fuck, why did he have to be so sexy?

Only you know that you had brought this Mandalorian down to his knees. You try to block the image of him on top of you, fucking you out of your mind only hours ago, making you cum harder than you ever had, painting you in his own spend.

Your soaked underwear sits wet and cold against your aching pussy, a painful and uncomfortable reminder of the mess you both made of each other.

When he’s gotten close enough to you, Mando tilts his helmet teasingly.

“You can’t outrun me, remember?” You know he’s smiling all smug underneath that helmet, you can hear it in his voice. It’s chilling and you shiver at the edge, the deep grit of his voice while your shoulder throbs at the memory.

“Well then I better get a head start.” You smile back, feeling hot underneath his gaze.

Grabbing his gloved hand into yours, you squeeze it tight, unable to say goodbye to him for some weird reason. You really don’t know him at all, you’ve only been with him for a day but you think you’ll miss his stoic quietness. Either way, you feel like this doesn’t merit a goodbye - he still has your puck.  

Mando stares in disbelief at your gesture, burning hotter and more embarrassed than ever, even though he was buried deep in your cunt only hours ago. He looks at your hand, engulfed in his and Maker, he doesn’t want to let go.

But he watches you drop his hand and walk away from him, lost to the crowd within seconds.

When he’s sure he can’t see you anymore, only then does Mando turn on his heel, heading back to his ship and back to Nevarro.

He tells Karga he had no luck finding you and manages to get another puck from him without much hassle. The new tracking fob takes him all the way out to Maldo Kreis to find some blue guy - as far away from you as possible.

Mando will take the long way getting back to you, hoping you stay out of trouble: from the Imps and the bounty hunters like him.

Your puck burns hot in his holster. It’s where he keeps you close, always on him until he tracks you down and finds you again.

[dingoat]

ASKS: For AHUSKA: 3, 8, 9, 10, 11, 14,17, 20

*cracks knuckles*

3. What does your oc’s voice sound like? (Or, if you have one, what’s their voiceclaim?) Can they sing, whistle, or roll their rs? Do they have any speech impediments or notable dialects/accents?

HONESTLY? I've never thought a great deal about it, and so in my head her voice is really just very much my own. Her accent might lean a little more toward New Zealand than my own, because I imagine Temuera-style-Mando'a would be what she heard most while growing up, except her Mando parents had vastly different origins again, and her earliest speaking years would have been spent listening to Bothese, and then for maybe a year or two very well spoken Basic. So, it's sort of a soft blur of all those influences.

In general she's reasonably shy, self conscious and soft spoken, and her tone reflects that, but her ability to control and adjust her voice is actually pretty impressive, owed to her work with all sorts of animals over the years and the need to adjust her entire demeanour depending on what she's working with. It's quite a thing to see for someone who's only ever known her in polite social settings!

She loves to sing, but again is self conscious about it, an alto who will comfortably drop to many tenor parts. She'd never claim her voice to be pretty or worth listening to on its own, but she's got a good ear, can stay in tune and harmonise well enough. Her ability to whistle is fairly pathetic and she definitely relies on an actual whistle when doing her animal work, and she can't roll her r's to save herself- but she can growl.

8. What’s it like inside your oc’s mind? (Literally, or metaphorically.)

Vivid, joyful, melancholy, constantly narrated or filled with music or imagined conversations or dwelling on the past or daydreaming about the future. She is very easily distracted by her thoughts and quite prone to letting her mind wander where it will. She loves to find beauty in the world but has very low self esteem, so there's always a war between joy and sadness going on in there.

9. What are your oc’s goals for the future? Relationship-wise, career-wise, or other?

Regular mode Ahuska is at a bit of an impasse; she's helped her Deserter buddies literally colonise a whole new planet of their very own, but now, after everything, with a sanctuary to hide away in and the option of relative peace stretched out and beckoning, she's found herself restless and uncertain. Her immediate goal is to secure a new ship with Crow, a worthy successor to Home which is otherwise a smouldering wreck on Taris. She would like to get back in touch with friends across the galaxy she hasn't had the freedom to contact in a while, but she's also scared to, knowing what she now knows of herself, wondering if she's obligated to let anyone she's close to in on the fact that she's Force Sensitive. She struggles to look too far ahead, and has no idea what she truly wants for herself in the long term.

Werewolf Ahuska struggles just as much with goals for the future, though her immediate goals are a lot more urgent and consuming. She will not rest, or allow herself to work toward anything else, until Blakk is better. No question, no compromise. She longs, desperately, for a future with him, but constantly convinces herself that it is not to be, especially not now that she must learn to wield the Force. She also wants to be in full control of herself, she wants to understand why she goes berserk, she wants to be deconditioned to her code phrase, she wants to be able to enjoy being a wolf without all the fear and anxiety that comes with it. She wants to experience life without fear, feeling loved and safe, but those wants of hers feel pale and shallow and selfish after all the terror she herself has caused and she considers them all the lowest of priorities at the moment.

10. Who’s the first person your oc goes to to talk about something that made them happy? Sad? Angry?

I have ANSWERED THIS in a previous ask, but to go into a little more detail with werewolf girl specifically; she bottles up a lot. A LOT. Blakk, of course, is her go-to, but she probably keeps in a whole lot at the moment, partly because he's incapable of actually properly conversing at the moment, and partly because he's wrapped up so tightly in a lot of her sadness and anger that she just doesn't want to make things worse by bringing anything up. She might have a little luxury right now to talk with Crow and Thirteen, but she's still mostly of the inclination to remain tight-lipped and keep things inside, and there's just no way she'd really turn to anyone else to open up because she can't talk plainly about any of the things she's been through or what she's still going through. Her avenues for social interaction are sorely limited and she feels it intensely.

11. Does your oc have any interests/hobbies that they hide from everyone? Why do they hide these interests?

I mean. Aside from wanting to run and fly around with absolute reckless abandon being a wolf monster, rolling in dirt and eating weird things and just generally living exactly in the moment? Which she definitely very actively keeps secret as a matter of personal safety?

She really doesn't have anything that she explicitly keeps secret. Her self consciousness and poor self image definitely impact how readily she shares anything; she doesn't let just anyone go poking through her sketchbook, but that has more to do with her feeling as though her little scrawls and scribbles aren't worth looking at, or are too personal, than her actively wanting to hide the fact that she likes to draw.

14. If your oc spent one day free from any consequences or recognition for their actions, how would they act?

Oh she would get herself onto Dromund Kaas and murder the hell out of Five.

(Ahaha and depending how things go, @vespertine-legacy ...?? Perhaps Tulia as well. XD Maybe even dear Zhorrid, who knows? Why not just cut loose and tear into every Imperial she can sink her teeth into?)

17. If your oc had a social media page, what would it be like? What would they post about? How much personal information would they feel comfortable posting on it? How often would they update it?

Already answered in previous ask! Except as a werewolf she's EVEN MORE EXTRA PARANOID and wouldn't touch any social media with a thousand foot pole. >.> Apparently it's bad enough that she has a couple of PHONE NUMBERS that she doesn't want to let go of.

20. What’s a superpower or magical ability that this oc would hate having?

OH YOU MEAN LIKE THE ONE SHE HAS?? The one she has and hates having and wishes she didn't have and wishes she didn't have to learn how to use? You mean THAT SUPER MAGICAL ABILITY POWER????

Quite specifically though, when it comes to Force business, Ahuska can't stand anything remotely resembling mind tricks or thought control or messing around in people's (or animals') heads. She is deeply, profoundly averse to the idea in every possible iteration and does not yet know enough about nurturing skills in the Force to understand that it's not something she will just suddenly be able to do; she doesn't properly realise yet that she has plenty of choice about what abilities she wishes to use and train in and excel at.