#helmetless!din content alert

[writeforfandoms]

Burn It Down

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Guys this one is heavy. Read the warnings. Then read them again. Seriously. Take care of yourselves. If you need more info on any of the warnings just let me know.

Also, not using my typical tag list due to content, just tagging a few people who expressed interest.

Warnings: past sexual assault (not graphic) (some details but nothing explicit), nightmare, panic attack, brief unintended self-harm, hurt some comfort, body issues, some trouble distinguishing reality from dreams/memory.

Word count: 2.1k

Did you read the warnings? Twice? I'm gonna assume you have by now. You've been warned.

You woke to total darkness, a gasp strangled in your throat, your heart pounding. You were warm, too warm, someone pressed up behind you. This time, the gasp didn't stay lodged, breaking free wet and as quiet as you could manage. 

It took only a moment to sit up, still in pure darkness. But where, exactly? Your breathing quickened when your muddled mind couldn't remind you right away. 

A hand landed on your hip, over one of the phantom touches still plaguing you, and a sleep-rasped voice murmured, "Dinui?" 

You didn't answer, couldn't answer past the lodge in your throat, merely ripped yourself away from him. Your skin crawled, prickling with the memory of hands grabbing you, holding you, forcing you still. You fell off the cot to the floor, landing hard on the cool metal. Pain bloomed from your knees and the hand that mostly caught you, but you didn't care. You scrambled away, breathing still fast and panicked, until your back was to a wall. 

A light flicked on overhead, so suddenly you flinched. But it finally gave you a chance to orient yourself. 

You were in the hold of the Crest. Din was still in the cot the two of you shared most nights, helmetless, hair sticking up every which way. But he was coiled, tense, eyes alert and scanning you for the source of your distress. 

"Dinui?" He asked again, sounding much more aware now. He slid out of the cot, and you flinched. He froze. "What happened?" 

You swallowed hard, twice. Speaking was too hard so you shook your head, gaze darting around. You knew the hold, you knew where the ladder up to the cockpit was. You weren't actually trapped. 

But even the cold of the metal seeping through your sleep clothes barely made a dent in the feeling of those hands on you. You could practically still hear his voice in your ears, just behind your head as he told you what he was going to do to you. Relishing in your horror. 

You jerked your head back against your assailant… only to smack straight into the hard metal wall. Stars burst in your eyes as tears sprang up from the sudden pain. 

"Hey!" Din took a step forward and only stopped when you scuttled sideways, away from him. "Dinui, please. Tell me what is going on." The strain was plain in his face and voice, gaze flickering over you desperately, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. 

You shivered and shook your head again. You couldn't think, could barely breathe. Everything wavered just a little, and if you weren't already sitting you had a feeling you would have fallen. 

"Breathe with me," Din instructed, voice gentled a little from his bounty hunter voice but still authoritative. His voice was different from the one stuck in your head, deeper and raspier and infinitely more reassuring. 

You drew in a stuttering breath, still feeling like your lungs wouldn't work. But you tried. You gripped your own arms tightly, barely even feeling the pressure of your nails as you forced yourself to breathe. 

"Good." Din dropped his voice lower, even as he slowly lowered himself to sit. He was a little closer, somehow, but not so close that he set off your fight or flight again. "That's good, dinui. Keep doing that, keep breathing." 

His words sort of blurred out into a comforting rumble in your ears as you forced your lungs to cooperate. Breathe in. Pause, if you could. Breathe out. Don't just whoosh all your air out at once. Breathe. 

As breathing became easier and you felt more present in the moment, you lifted your gaze to Din again. He looked… you didn't have the words. He was trying to be stoic, you could tell. Could see him fighting to keep from frowning, but there was such pain in his eyes. 

"Dinui?" He chanced. His fingers twitched, an aborted movement towards you. "Are you…?" He trailed off, clearly unsure how to finish that sentence.

Your laugh was short and hollow. "Just stay over there," you got out, exhausted. Words were hard. 

Silence fell for several seconds as you tried to breathe and wrestle your brain fully out of the nightmare and back into the present. 

A soft call of your name had your eyes snapping back open. When had you closed them? Din looked worried, brow furrowed, leaning forward though he hadn't actually moved any closer. 

"Please, sweetheart, I need to… let me check your head. You might have a concussion." He shifted closer, just by a few inches. 

And you flinched away as if he'd done something much more violent. "Don't." 

He froze at your tone, eyes going wide at the mingled panic and steel. Slowly, he leaned back again, a painful twist to his lips. 

Your breathing stuttered again with the knowledge that you had caused that. You had put that pain there. You swallowed down your self-recrimination, your remorse, your fury. That was for later. 

"I can't… you can't touch me. Right now." The words felt like barbed wire coming up your throat, scraping you raw, leaving you even more vulnerable. 

Confusion and then understanding flashed across his face, quickly overshadowed by his own brand of quiet protective fury. "Nightmare?" He asked softly, careful to keep his voice even. 

"Yes." You let out your breath slowly. "I was dreaming about…" you trailed off. You couldn't say it. Couldn't say his name. 

"Shh, I know." Din shifted restlessly. "What can I do?" 

That was too big a question. You could barely think, between the panic still threatening to choke you if you gave an inch, the pain radiating from the back of your head, and the ache and clench of your heart. You made a helpless motion, shaking your head. Too big. Too much, and not enough. 

Din blew out a breath, leaning back and surveying the hold. "I'll bring you some water," he said finally. "And I'll make caf for both of us." 

You choked on an almost-laugh. "It's gotta be the middle of the night," you protested. "You should go back to sleep." 

"You need me more." Din rose, all coiled grace even as his knees popped. He strode away from you to the small food prep area. 

Which, ironically, just made you worse. Your heart started to race again, your palms sweating, and you bit the inside of your lip hard to hold back a panicked noise. 

A high-pitched, strangled whine escaped, despite your best efforts. Din's curly head poked out where you could see him again. 

"Do you need me to come over?" The question was tentative. 

You shook your head violently and then closed your eyes tight when that just exacerbated the throbbing in your skull. Ow. Fuck. 

"I'll have your water in just a moment." Looking more concerned than you could readily recall seeing, Din vanished from view again. 

You screwed your eyes tightly shut, clenching your fists and trying to count your breathing. You'd picked up the habit somewhere, but couldn't actually remember where. 

A gentle clang caught your attention, and you opened your eyes to see a canteen resting right at your feet. Din was back in sight, lowering himself to sit in the same place as before. 

The knot in your chest loosened, at least enough for you to grab the canteen with shaking hands. 

"It's alright, dinui," Din murmured soothingly. "You're safe here. I won't let anyone hurt you." 

You knew that. You believed that. You had since the first time he'd told you. And you had always been safe in the ship. 

You took a deep breath, heart slowly calming. You drank some water. You sat up straighter, no longer huddled into the side of the ship, finally more engaged. 

"There you are," Din murmured with no small amount of relief. There was still tension around his eyes but he smiled, just a little. For you. 

"Sorry," you rasped. You took a drink of water, fingers shaking more from exhaustion now. "That was…" 

"Bad," Din agreed. He shifted restlessly. "Can I come over there?" 

You frowned a little as you checked in yourself. The thought of being touched still made you shudder in horror, but this was Din. Din who had never hurt you. Who respected your boundaries. Who you loved and trusted. 

"Just… don't touch me yet." You looked down at the floor, shame washing over you hot and fast, tears pricking the corners of your eyes again. 

"Okay." Din carefully slid across the floor to sit next to you, keeping a few inches of space between you. "Do you… want to talk…?"

"Kriff no," you choked out, almost laughing. "Definitely not." 

Din chuffed an almost-laugh of his own and relaxed back against the wall. He stretched his legs out in front of him, folding his hands over his belly. "I wish you would tell me his name," he said, faux-casual. 

"So you could hunt him down?" The question was sarcastic, not meant to be entirely serious. 

"Yes." Din's fingers flexed restlessly.

Your gaze flew to his face, shocked. But he was completely serious, holding your gaze steadily. 

"I don't…" You sighed softly, your own fingers twitching against the warring feelings of wanting to touch him, and the feeling that you would sooner claw your skin off than be touched. "It was a long time ago, Din."

"Hmm." Watching you carefully, he set one of his hands palm-up on his thigh. And left it there. An open invitation for you. "What happened?"

You took a couple deep breaths and fiddled with the canteen, anxiously twisting and unwitting the cap. "I… dreamed about him. About the… that night." You swallowed hard, unable to look at Din as you spoke. It was easier to talk down to your feet - which actually looked pretty dry. Huh. Oops. "Was a mix of memory and, uh, what could have been, I suppose." 

Silence fell between the two of you as you tried not to slide back into that panic. Din, probably, was contemplating murder. 

"How can I help?" 

His voice pulled you back from some of the darker moments of your nightmare, and you blinked rapidly as you refocused on the present again. "Honestly, not sure." You huffed, falling short of amusement and landing on bitter. "I used to just down caf and work and not sleep for a day or two." 

He murmured your name, pained and mildly scolding. "I do have caf," he offered. "We've still got hours until we drop out of hyperdrive, though." 

You drew in a shaky breath. You knew that. There was nowhere to go right now, just the ship. Just you and Din. 

"Let's start with caf," you decided. You shifted your weight to get up and winced, looking down at your knees. Well. You'd almost certainly bruise. 

"Do you need help?" 

"No. I'm okay." You took a deep breath and stood. Your head throbbed angrily, and you swayed a little. Din hovered next to you, hands out, ready to catch you if you needed it. But he didn't touch you. 

Unexpected tears pricked your eyes again. You loved this man so much, it was a little ridiculous. 

With one last deep breath in, you nodded carefully to him. "Caf first. And then… can you check my head without… without touching me?" 

"I will try." 

You followed him to get caf, and then took your caf up into the cockpit. The streaking stars overhead illuminated the space, more soothing to your frayed nerves than the lights in the hold. 

It took only a moment to settle in your normal seat, and you started to relax with the first sip. Din joined you quietly, sitting in the pilot's seat and sipping his own caf. He was very good about not watching you, taking only glimpses. 

"I'm feeling better," you told him quietly. "I'm sorry for the monumental freak out." 

"None of that," he scolded lightly. "It is not your fault."

"But–"

"It is not your fault," he repeated firmly. "None of it. You don't need to apologize."

You drew in a deep breath and nodded. You drank your caf, letting the quiet calm of the stars fill you. 

You were okay. It had just been a nightmare. Nothing had happened. You were with Din. Din was safe, always. 

After some period of time, you moved to let Din examine your head. As promised, he didn’t touch you. Just looked you over. 

You eased back into your seat. Looked back up at the stars. 

And didn't even realize you'd fallen asleep again until the ship dropped out of hyperdrive and Din took over piloting. He hadn't moved from his seat, and hadn't moved you. 

You hadn't dreamed at all, that time.

--

Taglist: @beecastle​ @green-socks​ @quica-quica-quica​ 

[floral-force]

Knight in Beskar Armor - Chapter 8

A Hunter's Embrace

words: 5k

warning: smut/NSFW/18+ ONLY (unprotected sex) content ahead--please check tags!

a/n: I wrote this from Din's POV! I wanted to try switching it up, and I liked how this felt. Let me know what you think!

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“Princess, princess,” he whispered, gently nudging the sleeping form next to him. “Wake up.”

She started to slowly turn her head, but before she could look at his face, he clamped his hand down over her eyes. The Mandalorian had fallen asleep next to the princess, and he was helmetless.

“My eyes are closed now, Mando,” she smiled and rolled over, and his hand moved down to cup her face. “How’d you sleep?”

“Mmm, I slept well,” he mumbled, sleep tinting his voice. “What about you, Princess?”

“I also slept well,” she said. “It was good to sleep next to you.”

He wished she could see the smile on his face. Hers was bright and beautiful, lighting up any room she was in. Waking up next to her was better than he’d expected, even if they were squished together on his cot with Grogu above them. It was almost domestic, and it scared him. He hadn’t intended to get so close to the Princess of Naboo; he was hired by her father to protect her, not pleasure her.

“I’m glad,” he said. “We should be arriving at Corellia soon.”

“Well,” she yawned. “Better start getting up, Mandalorian.”

“As you wish, Princess.”

He punctuated his sentence with a kiss, making her giggle and tangle her hands in his hair, stealing a few more kisses from him before he finally left the rack, taking his helmet off the shelf and closing the panel to the rack so she didn’t have to worry about seeing his face. As he took a quick shower in the fresher, he thought about her face while she had sucked his cock. Her eyes had filled with tears, wide and searching for his through his visor. He wished he could have met her gaze with his, no helmet filtering their connection. Even thinking about it right now was making him hard.

He was about to be on a hunt; he couldn’t have any distractions. So, he decided to start to stroke his half-hard cock, water streaming down his skin. He closed his eyes and thought about the princess and her mouth. She had taken him so well, every inch in her pretty little mouth, swallowing him whole. He grunted as he started to speed up his strokes, his cock already throbbing. Ever since that night in the garden he’d been thinking about how her lips would fit perfectly around his cock, how it would be so easy to silence her sharp tongue and have her use it to give him pleasure instead of retorts.

The Mandalorian’s hand reached out to touch the shower wall, steadying himself as he came closer to climax. Fuck, he wish he would’ve taken her after filling her mouth with his cum. Pushing her down on the floor to fuck her while she looked into his eyes. Filling that pretty royal pussy with his thick cock, making her moan and beg. He thought about her moaning his name—Din, Din, Din—as he snapped his hips, urging her to finish with him, begging him to join her on the edge—

He groaned her name when his cock throbbed and spilled thick white ribbons on the shower floor, his eyes squeezed shut while his mind reeled from pleasure. Having that princess around was dangerous, not just for hunts, but for his own sex drive. His self-control was strong, yes, but sometimes his lust was enough to strangle it. His hunt on Corellia was going to be good for him.

Mando toweled off and left the fresher to retrieve his armor, not even bothering to wrap his towel around his waist. He was quick opening the armory, on edge in case he heard the rack panel open. He suited up, and before he placed his helmet back on, he looked at himself in the fresher mirror. Maybe it was a good thing the princess couldn’t see his face—she couldn’t see the lines from years of hunting, the furrows in his brow from frustration, and the circles under his eyes that lingered after nearly losing the child. She was young and vibrant, a millaflower in bloom. He was a battle-worn bounty hunter that jumped from one quarry to the next, polishing his beskar and tending his wounds between each. If he ever took his helmet off—something that he doubted would ever happen—he wouldn’t blame her if she rejected him.

“Mando? Mando? Are you almost done?”

The sound of her muffled voice and knocks on the rack panel yanked him out of his thoughts. Din quickly put his helmet on and rushed over to the rack, opening it to see the child nestled in the princess’s arms, cooing, and playing with her hair. She was smiling, and it tugged at his beskar heart just a bit. When she looked up at him, he felt a pang in his chest; it was going to be hard to leave her during his hunt.

“He likes you,” Din said, nodding at the child.

She looked at the wiggling green baby in her arms. “I suppose he has warmed up to me quite a bit since we first met.” She laughed when Grogu babbled. “He jumped down from his little hammock and hasn’t left my arms since.”

Din would have hugged her and Grogu, wrapping them in his arms, if it weren’t for the fact that they were about to leave hyperspace and land on Corellia. He stopped his heart from growing too soft at the scene, instead clearing his throat.

“The ship is going to leave hyperspace. We’ll land on Corellia soon,” he said, noticing how her smile slowly dropped.

She nodded, setting the child down on the cot despite his complaints. “I’ll get changed.”

“Be quick,” he said as she walked to the fresher, taking clothes with her. “You need to be strapped in when the Crest leaves hyperspace and breaks the atmosphere.”

“I’ll hurry.”

Din looked down at the child, scooping him into his arms. He let out a quiet sigh; he knew he’d upset the princess, but he couldn’t let their attraction come between his bounties. He needed the credits now that he had another mouth to feed—he couldn’t afford to get distracted or go soft.

When he got to the cockpit, he set Grogu down in the copilot’s seat, handing him his favorite metal ball before he could snatch it himself. Din chuckled as he prepped the Crest up for the drop, watching the nav panel and waiting on the princess to arrive. When she did, she was in another pair of black leggings, this time wearing a short-sleeved purple tunic, a belt knotted around her waist. He noticed that her hair was in braids as she looked at him, strapping into her seat and twiddling her thumbs.

The Crest left hyperspace with a jolt and Corellia came into view, white clouds encircling its blue and earthy surface. Din alerted his docking contact with the push of a few buttons, and when he received the transmission to enter Corellia’s atmosphere, he guided the Crest into it. The Crest made a bumpy entry into Corellia, and the Mandalorian winced when he heard the princess sharply inhale. Finally, they reached smoother air, and he managed to land the ship on his contact’s docking platform, quietly groaning when he saw droids approach his ship.

Din pointed at Grogu. “You, stay in the crib. And you,” he pointed at the princess, “You stay on the ship with him.”

“I can’t leave with you?”

“Absolutely not.” He left the cockpit and she followed him, standing behind him as he gathered weapons. He turned to look at her when he’d gathered enough detonators and ammunition for this hunt, slinging his rifle over his back.

She put her hands on her hips, squinting at him. “Not even to stay in a hotel?”

“No.” Din moved over to stand in front of the ramp, and he heard her tiny footsteps following behind him. “We need to maintain a low profile.”

She stamped her foot, and his head snapped to look at her. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were tired, and he almost felt bad that he had to hold his ground on this. He didn’t know if anyone was after her, and he also couldn’t risk having her be a distraction during this hunt. Din knew she wasn’t used to life on the Crest, and that she wasn’t used to not getting her way. She was spoiled—and he wouldn’t give in every time she wanted something.

“Mandalorian,” she said, the ramp lowering. “What do you expect me to do while you’re gone?”

He shrugged. “I shouldn’t be gone long. Someone is just trying to outrun a debt they owe.”

With that, he stepped down the ramp, giving her one last glance before leaving her and the child behind. Once he was on the ground, he raised the ramp again, not wanting his contact to get a chance to look inside, or allow the princess to slip off the ship.

“Ah, Mando!”

Din’s head turned and he saw a teal Twi’lek step out of the shadows, a few repair droids trailing behind him.

“Inun Olan,” Din replied, walking towards him. “Thank you for letting me dock.”

Inun clasped Mando’s arm. “Not to worry, my friend. It’s the least I can do after the many times you’ve saved my skin.”

“How much do I owe you?” he said, pulling out a pouch of credits.

“For you? First night is free.”

The Mandalorian opened the pouch and tried handing Inun 300 credits, but he forced them back into the pouch, shaking his head.

“I have to get going,” the Mandalorian said, pulling out his tracking fob. “No droids.”

Inun nodded, sending his repair droids back into the building. “Whatever the Mandalorian wants, I shall give him.”

Din nodded and left the dock, resolving to make this hunt a quick one. It wouldn’t be hard to find a Gran on Coruscant, anyways—although it was a densely populated planet, people would recognize one right away. It was foolish of the bounty to think he could hide out here; if anything, it made his job easier. He’d probably started off running to a shipyard, hoping for transport. The tracking fob in his palm blinked, and he began to plot out his course.

This hunt wouldn’t keep him far from the princess and the child.

So, the Mandalorian may have made a miscalculation.

Usually quarries that owed a debt weren’t being pursued by more than two hunters at a time, and normally neither hunter ran into each other. The bounty simply wasn’t worth enough credits to fight if one had gotten to the quarry first.

After a kick in his chest plate, the Mandalorian wondered if Karga had misinformed him—was this bounty more than an indebted Gran on the run? The red Palliduvan hunter tried to shoot him once again, but her shot missed when he rolled behind cargo crates. She was a good shot; he couldn’t take any chances with testing how good her aim was. His only choice was to rush her and force her to fight hand-to-hand.

He shot rockets off towards her and jumped back out when he heard her swear after being hit, her rifle clattering to the ground. His fist connected with her jaw, and she snarled before flipping and kicking him away again, trying to grab the blaster on her hip. Before she could get any further, he took her wrist and twisted it, pushing her back and away from his body in case she decided to use her fingers to try to claw at him.

“Who sent you for the Gran?” he growled.

She laughed, her sharp teeth red with her own blood. “A Gran? I’m worth more than some low-caliber job. I’m here for the princess.”

Oh, fuck.

When she noticed the Mandalorian’s hesitation, she struggled again, and his free hand moved to wrap around her neck, squeezing hard enough to discourage further attempts of escape. She sneered at him again, and under his helmet his lips twisted into a snarl.

“I heard she was with you—some pretty young thing from Naboo,” she gasped when he squeezed her throat, applying more pressure. “There’s a bounty on her head, Mando. And you’re in the way.”

She punctuated her sentence with a kick square in his chest, one last attempt at escaping and grabbing her blaster. He was quicker, though; he slammed her to the ground, knocking her unconscious on the dirty ground of the shipyard ally. When she didn’t move, he finally stood up, binding her wrists and snatching her weapons off the ground. He couldn’t risk her waking up and tracking him again.

As he stalked off to the Gran’s location, he ran through this new information. There were people on the hunt for the princess. A part of him had known this since the night he’d swept her away from Naboo; there was no way that whoever assassinated the king had planned on stopping with him. Even when he’d been briefed by the king, he’d been warned that it wouldn’t stop with his death, and that people were going to be on the hunt for her neck—the neck the Mandalorian had held tight and kissed gently.

Telling her was going to be...tricky. He had to convey the very real danger she was in—danger that had made his heart stop and his blood freeze—without alarming her so much that she shut down. As he dragged the Gran back to the crest—he was begging so much that Din had stunned him—he came up with a way to delicately break the news that there were hunters after her. Din was shaken by the news. He’d figured the assassin wouldn’t stop with her father, but he supposed he’d forgotten about that in favor of remembering how the princess tasted on his tongue.

When her father had commissioned him to protect her, Din hadn’t realized how imminent of a threat there was to the royal family, nor how deadly it truly was. He also hadn’t realized how he’d be pulled towards the princess, a spark between them strong enough to start a fire. He’d been pulled toward her like a moth to a flame, his wings burning bright in her fiery eyes. Seeing her in the garden was an accident—he’d been drawn towards its opulence, not used to something so grand and full within the confines of brick and mortar. He hadn’t been able to sleep in his quarters, craving the tiny rack and the gentle snores of Grogu above him. After seeing her, he stayed up even later fantasizing about pinning her down right there and pleasing her, trapping her in his embrace, making her submit to him. Looking at her bathed in moonlight made him understand that the garden wasn’t the only beautiful thing confined in the palace.

“Mando—back so soon?” Inun’s voice boomed, his arms open.

“It was an easy chase.” He tossed a few more credits into the Twi’lek’s hand. “Quarries that owe a debt don’t think with their head.”

Inun laughed. “Well, my friend, your ship is repaired and fueled for your next hunt.”

“Thank you,” Din said, looking down at the Gran that was beginning to stir.

Inun nodded, and Mando ascended the Crest’s ramp.

Once inside the ship, he scanned for the princess, catching her and the child’s heat signature in the rack. He was silent when he dragged his bounty to the carbonite freezing chamber, encasing the Gran in carbonite, a terrified expression frozen on its face. When the Mandalorian turned around, he saw the princess, distressed and holding the child in her arms. Her hair was a mess, her feet bare and legs exposed. She was in the old shirt he’d given her when she had first met him. It made his cheeks flush, and he was thankful yet again for his helmet.

“W-what was that?” she stuttered, looking from him to the frozen Gran.

“Carbonite. Clients like their bounties alive. So, I freeze them.” He scooped Grogu out of her arms, and the child gurgled, which made her chuckle. “How was her?”

“So very sweet,” she smiled, her shoulders relaxing a bit. “I could tell he missed you, he wouldn’t let go of me.”

Din handed the child back to her and strode over to the cockpit ladder, and he was happy to hear the princess’ tiny footsteps follow him. They were going to jump back into hyperspace to get to Nevarro—he’d only taken one bounty from Karga, mainly because he wasn’t sure how much the princess could handle. As she stood next to his pilot seat, strapping Grogu in, he could smell the flowers on her skin, her scent almost intoxicating to him after the scent of fuel had burned his nostrils during the hunt. The jump into hyperspace passed without a word between them, the child’s tiny gurgles and the Crest’s groans the only noises reaching their ears. It didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable; it felt like there was a small understanding between them now. When it had developed, Din didn’t know. Maybe while he was gone, the princess had had some sort of realization. He hated that he was going to knock her back to where she had started—scared and kicking him as he carried her away from danger.

He decided to break the news after finishing his rations. Grogu had finally settled down in his crib in the cockpit, calm now that his father was back with him. Din replaced his helmet and gathered his nerves as he left the cockpit to approach the princess, who was laying on her back in the rack, her knees bent and legs kicking off the edge of it. For the first time in a while, she looked relaxed. It made him feel even worse about telling her that she was in danger.

He called her name and she sat up on her elbows, smiling gently at him. He thought back to the garden and how terrified she had looked at the sight of him. Something inside of him fluttered, but he crushed it quickly. “Princess, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Mando?” her smile morphed into concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, the bounty was easy,” he knelt in front of her between her legs, looking up at her.

“Oh, good. I was worried.”

He took a deep breath, hoping she didn’t hear it. “Princess, there are bounty hunters after you.” Her face went white. “You’re in danger.”

“W-why do they want me?” she whispered, crossing her arms, her fingers digging into her flesh.

“Whoever wanted your father dead didn’t want to stop with him,” he said.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and he heard her breath catch in her throat. “I thought I was safe with you.”

“You are.” He grabbed her hand, making her jump and stare down at him. “You are.”

“Mando…” she whispered, tears slipping out of her eyes.

He murmured her name, sweeping her into his arms. He felt her shoulders shake as she sobbed into his armor, her hands gripping his pauldrons to remind herself that he was there beneath her, surrounding her and embracing her. It hurt him to see her hurt like this, and it hurt more knowing he was the source of it. His armor was cracking, but for some reason, he didn’t mind. As he held the shaking princess, all he wanted was to kiss her and make her forget her pain for a moment. But the thought of admitting that was something that deeply unsettled him. So instead, he held her tight, rubbing small circles on her back, and stroking her hair until she quieted and sat back, staring at her lap, back against the rack panel.

“We’re going back to Nevarro,” he said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’ll turn the quarry in, and we can make a plan.”

She nodded. “Do you still want me with you?”

“I swore to protect you.”

“I don’t want to endanger you.”

“Princess,” he chuckled. “I’ve handled worse.”

He flinched when her fingers reached out and brushed his helmet. “I suppose you have.”

He took her wandering hand in his and she weakly smiled at him, her cheeks still stained red from her sobs. She looked like a weeping angel, a maiden in mourning, a beauty that carried herself with grace despite it all. Before she could react, he was peeling off his armor, tossing pieces off haphazardly, ignoring the clangs of beskar on the floor of the Crest in favor of her excited giggles. It was music to his ears, and such a welcome sound after hearing her cries.

He took her in his arms, laying her on her back. The red on her cheeks was no longer due to tears—it seemed her eagerness was showing on her skin. Her hands pressed on his chest, picking at the fabric that covered his skin.

“The kid needs you here,” Din said, stopping his tongue from slipping.

She smirked. “The kid needs me here?”

“He likes you.” The Mandalorian thought about how Grogu looked nestled in her arms, smiling up at her. It was burned into his memory, and it was something he didn’t want to forget any time soon.

“He likes me.” Her hands traveled down his torso, tugging on the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal a bit of his golden skin.

“Yes.”

He suppressed a shiver when she pulled his shirt up further, the cold air of the Crest hitting his skin and amplifying the warmth from her hands. All he could do was stare at her and memorize the way she looked in this moment. Maybe he didn’t want to fuck her; maybe he wanted to just remain above her, hands by her ears, keeping her in his trap as he committed every curve of her body to memory.

“Close your eyes, mesh’la.”

She immediately did as told—so obedient—a gentle smirk on her face as he took off his helmet and shirt. He felt her jump when his lips met hers, then moaned when her hands cupped his face. She was so touchy, so insistent upon knowing every line and bump on his face, every hidden story in his skin. It made him kiss her more, his tongue exploring her mouth as one of his hands crept between her legs, cupping the heat between them. She gasped into his mouth, rolling her hips ever-so slightly.

“Can I taste you, princess?”

She nodded—yes, yes, yes, please, Mando—and gave him one last kiss before he pulled her shirt up and over her head, revealing her perky tits. Her hands tangled in his hair as he bit and kissed her chest, relishing every gasp and whimper when he sucked on her nipples and sucked her delicate skin hard enough to leave a mark—his mark. Just hearing her voice and listening to her needy moans was enough to make his cock throb and leak, but he had work to do.

He sat back and roughly pulled her pants off, and gently slid her panties off, noticing the damp patch that her arousal had created. Instead of tossing them to the side, he smirked, leaning back over her.

“Princess, you already made a mess, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“I’m sorry, daddy,” she whined, her fingers curling around his wrist, urging his hand down and off her face.

He held steady though. “Taste how wet you already are.”

She gasped when he stuffed her panties into her mouth, and fuck, she looked pretty gagged. Din had found another way to silence the princess, and he was quite pleased with himself. He licked down from her sternum to the top of her mound, stopping before going any further. Her body arched up to meet his wet tongue, his fingers digging into her thighs, pushing her legs open to reveal her cunt. When he pulled back her folds, he chuckled. She was already soaking wet for him, already on the edge. Her begs for his tongue were muffled but he could tell she was on the brink of tears—so needy for her knight. And who was he to deny his princess?

When his tongue licked slowly around her clit, she arched up, her hand tugging his hair. He couldn’t help himself; he slid his tongue into her scorching hot, soaking slit, and moaned when he tasted her. She moaned so loud that Din was proud of himself for gagging her—it was sexy and practical. The princess was soaking his tongue, and he loved the taste of her. He needed more than this, though. He needed to feel how wet she was on his aching cock. He’d been wanting it for too long—he needed to have it.

She cried when he pulled his mouth away, but she sighed when he easily slipped two fingers inside of her, curling up and pressing against the soft spot inside of her cunt.

“Does my princess like daddy filling her like this?” He smirked when she nodded, moaning. “Does she want more?”

When she nodded again, he pulled her panties out of her mouth, and replaced them with the two fingers that had been inside of her. He groaned when she worked her tongue around his fingers, his free hand palming his length through his pants. When his patience ran out, he stood and got rid of the restricting fabric, his cock throbbing against her bare skin when he resumed his position above her, kissing her again. He lined himself up with her entrance, stroking her cheek before placing his hands beside her ears, admiring how gorgeous she looked beneath him—already such a mess for him.

“Do you want this, princess?” he asked, the tip of his cock teasing her wet entrance.

“Yes, Mando, please,” she whispered, her hands snaking up his torso and wrapping around his neck.

He slowly slid inside of her, moaning as he felt her cunt stretch around his thick length, watched her face as she took every inch until he was buried to the hilt. Din kissed her and began to slowly thrust, having to force himself to keep a steady pace because his cock was already aching and ready for release. He moaned her name, moving down onto his forearms. She felt better than he could have ever imagined—so tight, so wet, so warm—and he was trying so hard not to finish already, fuck—

“J-just like t-that—ah, fuck—yes—there, there,” she panted, her breath hitching as her walls fluttered around his cock.

“Like that, cyar’ika?” he said, sliding the head of his cock over a spot that was making her melt into the floor beneath him.

“Yes, Mando, yes, right fucking there—”

“Din,” he growled. “My name is Din. Say my fucking name, princess.”

“Din!” she cried. He sped up and embraced her, feeling her cunt begin to pulse around his cock, begging for his own release to join hers. Her face was buried in his neck, her mouth close to his ear. “Fuck, Din—you’re so good—just like that—stars, I’m gonna cum—I w-want you to fill me—fill me, please, Din—”

He moaned her name, his spend filling her pulsing cunt as she nearly shouted his name, their orgasms and voices in harmony. Their song of release filled the air of the Crest, and Din never wanted to let go of her, never wanted to forget how she looked—spent, flushed, happy—and how she felt around his cock and in his arms. He kissed her and repeated her name into her neck, feeling her quick pulse beneath his lips. She whined when he finally pulled his softening length out of her with a wet squelch—fuck, he’d have to clean that mess up—and he shushed her with a deep kiss, melding their burning mouths together. He sat up and scooped her into his arms, making her squeal, her back sticky with sweat and her face glistening. He carried her over to the rack, setting her down gently and snatching a pair of briefs.

“Are you going to get your son?” she mumbled, sitting up. “Because if so, I’m going to use the fresher.”

He chuckled, kissing her cheek. “My perceptive princess.” He rose to his full height again, slipping the briefs on. “I’ll be back soon.”

He went up to the cockpit and lingered there for a little while, cradling Grogu in his arms and staring out at hyperspace. The small child snored softly, and Din couldn’t help his lips from curling into a gentle smile. He made his way back down to the rack, noticing the panel was closed. She was thoughtful; instead of risking seeing him, he could announce his arrival so she could close her eyes. It made his heart skip a beat—he’d never experienced that...kindness…before. He knocked, and the panel slid up.

Grogu only stirred slightly after being placed in his hammock, nestling into his blankets for warmth after losing his father’s. The princess was wearing his old shirt again, her legs exposed and the curve of her ass peeking out below the large garment. Din slid next to her, pressing her back into his chest, embracing her. It was where she belonged, and she knew it too, placing her hands over his and contentedly sighing.

“Get some rest Din,” she whispered, pulling the hand on her waist to her lips, kissing it.

For the first time in a long time, Din fell asleep quickly, and he dreamt of sweeping the princess off her feet for a dance at the ball, his cyar’ika resting in his arms as they spun around the ballroom.

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