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Instinct - Part 2

Summary: Omegas were rare. Some even thought them extinct. So when Boba contacts Din saying he has a gift Din can’t refuse, the last thing he expects to find is an omega in need of an alpha. Din has to make the hard decision, but what else was he really doing anyways? But naturally, there’s more to this omega than meets the eye.

Pairing: Din Djarin x female!reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, torture, and trafficking; ABO dynamics, nightmares, some Star Wars curse words, a bit suggestive at the end but noting serious. 

A/N: Here’s part two. There’s four, almost five parts total that are done, I’m trying to get them all up but I’m being lazy.

< Previous | Next > | MASTERLIST | OC Version

You stare through the scope, aiming at the target. You take a breath, letting it out slowly before firing. The empty spotcha bottle shatters, making you smirk. You turn around as you reload, spying the figure behind you. “Come out here to stand and think?” 

He ignores your remark, instead stepping closer. “You’re a good shot.” 

You shrug. “Fennec’s taught me a few things.” 

Keep reading

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Status: Active

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Original Character

Summary: Ghost is active, and that means bodies are dropping.

Warnings: Cursing, mental abuse, physical harm, depression, all that stuff. Again, this is the thick heavy part of the story. Won’t be like this forever, but it will be for a bit. It’s for the PLOT.

Word Count: 5,014

Mission: Deactivate security systems. Infiltrate enemy compound and select target. Eliminate target. Return to base immediately following. 

Status: Active.

"Soldat." 

Silver eyes snapped up from the manila file held in her hand. Cold, calculating, removed.

"Do you understand your orders?"

A singular nod before her hand snapped the file closed, sliding it onto the table beside her. She was smooth and precise, the perfect weapon. 

Human flaws had been eliminated. The Asset took orders like a machine. Take orders, execute mission, return, repeat. That was all she knew. That was all she had ever known, and she was damn good at it.

"You leave at dawn."

She didn't hesitate to move, turning towards the exit and moving with the grace and silence very few possessed. Other agents parted like the sea at the sight of her. They would gawk and cower, some outright fled from view. They had seen her skills, her ruthlessness. The Asset's methods were brutal and gruesome. She didn't have feelings or preferences, that much they had been told, but many had seen the way she executed her missions. Many had seen the way she would draw it out in the most painful ways. 

None wanted to be her target.

Word of the Ghost's return had taken like wildfire in a drought. Every member of Hydra knew of her return. Some of the higher-ranking agents had come to view her displays, watched and reviewed the improvements Dr. Giles had done to her. All the while she would stand there, waiting. Watching them as she took in their words. 

But none of that mattered to her. She felt nothing, only the singing in her veins and the deep dwelling urge to cause pain and destruction. It was what she was made for, so she'd been told. 

The chopper guttered to life as she clipped her last blade into place. No bullets, too loud and draw far too much attention. This kill would be up close and personal. The Asset boarded, strapping in and settling a headset over her ears to bark orders to the pilot. There was no room for mistake. 

Because her targets were the untouchable, the admired and revered.

The Avengers.

_____

Pepper-

It was no secret that the Avengers were falling apart. It was clear as day in their bruised under eyes and increasing meetings. Every SHIELD agent in the building knew it, and they were trying their hardest to help where they could.

Where there was once a team were now crumbling friendships and strained patience. I was convinced that if it carried on for a minute longer that this whole building might collapse with the tension. It was time for an intervention.

I stepped into the main living area where I had called the team in to sit. They were all strung around the room in various slumped positions. Some friends had been called in to aid them in their endeavors. Wanda, for instance, had called in her brother Pietro to assist in any way he could. He had tried to brighten the mood as much as he could with his occasional lighthearted joke, but not even Sam had the heart to laugh nowadays. 

Tony had been trying to get a message out to Thor in hopes that having the God of Thunder to help would give us an advantage, but so far, he had been unsuccessful. I had been watching the weight of it all begin to crush him, and it was devastating.

So, it was time to make them all get some good rest at least for a night. None of these all-nighters were helping anyone.

"Alright," my voice drew their attention to me, "All of you look like hell warmed over. I'm sure you are very aware of that. So, I'm calling a mandatory early curfew for eight. That means all of you go to bed right now, no arguments. Like I've told Tony repeatedly, being exhausted and worn to the bone won't help anyone. Get some rest, all of you. Please tell Mr. Barnes, this applies to him too." I looked each of them in the eyes once I was finished, making sure every one of them knew I was absolutely serious.

None of them tried to convince me I was wrong. They probably didn't have the energy to. I walked over and carded my fingers through Tony's hair, shooing all of them off from the living room and watching as they all dispersed to their respective rooms. Tony remained in the living room nodding off as I combed through his hair. 

"Tony," I whispered, "I'm going to grab you a blanket. Promise me you'll get some rest in here alright?" I knew he wouldn't make it to our level, let alone a few steps down the hall to the elevator. He nodded, and I walked over to the other side of the room to snag the throw blanket off the other couch and covered him up. 

He smiled in his bleary state, "Thanks, Pep. Love you."

I hummed, "I love you too, Tony. Get some rest." With that, I decided I would camp out on this floor to ensure he wouldn't wake up in the dead of the night and start working on lord knows what. I pressed open the spare bedroom door and began my nightly routine, shower, dress, brush teeth, organize for the next day. By the time I finally got into bed it was nearly two in the morning. I was lucky it was a weekend. 

My eyes drifted shut, finally the calm had begun to sweep over me. I was so close to drifting off, so close to getting the rest that I needed after stressing about those poor heroes just down the hall, when something clattered to the floor down the hall. From the living room or the kitchen just off of it. 

I silently cursed to myself, just knowing it was Tony trying to get away with some late-night reviews over files or analytics.

Tossing the sheets off of my legs, I crept over to my door to try and catch him in the act. Perhaps the guilt of being caught would make him finally get some shuteye. The doorhandle was cool to the touch as I gently shoved it open. I was lucky Tony kept all the hinges well-oiled or I'd be done for. All the lights were still off, so shuffling down the hall was a little more difficult. I kept to the wall in hopes that I wouldn't trip over my own feet trying to find my way to the living area. 

It was a full moon tonight, the bright blue light cascading into the room through the curtains. It was the only source of light in the room. I was ready to pounce as soon as I peeked around the corner, so sure I had caught him read handed, only to feel my heart drop to my stomach.

Tony was still sprawled out on the couch, only there was a silhouette casting a looming shadow over his face. Black, all black, like one of the shadows had sprung to life in the night to terrorize anyone up at the hour. I watched in utter horror as they removed something from their pocket. 

Metal glinted in the moonlight as a finger struck the needle, their thumb pressing on the end of the syringe and letting a drop of liquid slip down the end of it. I watched, completely frozen with fear, as they jammed it into his neck. Tony's eyes snapped open, mouth gaping for a moment, before his body went slack again against the white cushions of the couch.

I could hardly pull air into my lungs. They tucked the syringe back in their pocket before slipping their fingers into one of the circlets of the multitude of knives lacing every inch of them. It twirled once, twice around their finger. Each time it caught the light my heart lurched in my ears. I wanted to scream, to throw something at them, anything to get their attention off of Tony's collapsed frame. But I couldn't. I just couldn't.

A door creaked down the hall and I whipped my head around to see blonde hair and pinched brows as Pietro made his way quietly down the hall. I waved my arms as subtly as I could, remaining behind the corner out of view from the intruder, trying to catch his attention. He eyed me with confusion. I pointed to the living room, desperately trying to tell him that someone was here. Someone had gotten in. When I snapped my head around to look back at the room, certain that they had probably heard the door, there was not a trace of them.

I felt my eyes stinging as tears of frustration and fear threatened to spill down my cheeks as I tried to silently communicate with him. He seemed to understand that there was something awry, because he fisted his hands and began to creep down the hall a little quicker. He threw a hand towards a door across from where I stood as he neared my corner of safety. My eyes followed his gesture to a closet door. He meant for me to hide. 

I didn't want to, not when Tony was helplessly unconscious on the couch a few feet away and a killer was in the house. I thought about my chances though. I was an assistant, a simple not-superhuman woman who could definitely not stand even the most reasonable chance against someone trained. Someone who had broken into the Avengers tower.

It hit me then, like a brick tumbled onto my head. Why hadn't Friday notified us that someone had gotten in? Why hadn't she been able to keep them out?

I was afraid to whisper for the AI, afraid to call out to her in the darkness of the hallway as I watched Pietro sneak around the corner. 

I reached for the door, swinging it open as quietly as I could before I clicked it shut against the pressure of my foot to quiet the noise. I knew in my gut that if I called out to Friday she wouldn't answer. Something told me she had been dismantled. Whoever this intruder was, they were trained and serious and lethal.

The darkness from the closet enveloped me, covering my senses and forcing me to blink it away as my eyes adjusted. I scanned over Tony from the slats in the door, studying him for injury I was terrified they had caused while I had looked away. There was none, thank God, and he still remained sleeping on the couch. Pietro had snuck around to the kitchen out of sight, but I could hear his subtle footsteps against the tile as he checked around. 

My breathing was ragged in my ears and muffled by the hand I had tossed over my mouth to keep my panic at bay. Pietro came back around the corner looking much more relaxed. His arms had dropped to his sides from their defensive position as he made his way back to scope out the rest of the living room. I was starting to think that it was all in my head. Maybe I had made it all up out of stress. I read somewhere that hallucinations can happen under extreme cases of stress.

But I wanted to be certain.

I reached a shaky hand towards the doorhandle, wrapping my fingers around it. I kept my eyes on the blonde as he made his way over to Tony, looking him over once, before he started to track around the couch.

He didn't seem to find anything. Pietro turned towards the window, bending down and retrieving something from the ground. It was slim and black, likely the remote to the tv that normally sat at the end of the couch arm. Tony must've knocked it off in his sleep. I was beginning to think that I had really, truly made up the apparition. I believed it so much that I was pressing down on the handle to come out when it walked out of the kitchen.

I stopped dead.

In the dim light from the window, I could finally see their face. Her face. With her short white locks that glowed silver in the dark along with her eyes that caught the light. Max. It was Max.

 But something was wrong, very, very wrong. 

She simply walked up behind Pietro as he examined the remote, looking around the floor for something as he did so. Max stood there, watching. Just watching him. He didn't hear her, I realized, as she tilted her head to the side as if she was intrigued by his obliviousness. Taunting.

He turned his head towards the closet where I remained, and she merely sidestepped to remain out of sight. Pietro shot me a reassuring smile. I wanted to cry, I was crying, as I watched her raise her knife still clutched in her hand and slice clear through the back of his knees.

Pietro's whole face morphed in agony, but before he could even get a sound out there was a hand clamped around his mouth guiding his body down to the floor. A second knife was plunged into his stomach, and she twisted it with a blank face, simply pressing her hand harsher against his mouth as he cried out. 

His hands clawed at her arms, dragging long lines of blood but she didn't seem to notice it. She just twisted the knife more and mumbled something low into his ear. Pietro's whole face paled as his eyes snapped towards the closet again. I backed away from the door instinctively, afraid she would see me. Tony had told me she was enhanced, but he never stated how enhanced.

Max released him then and stood from the floor. Pietro didn't call out, didn't dare open his mouth even as he winced in pain. Max moved away from him and out of view for a moment only to reappear right in front of the door.

I nearly screamed.

Silver blank eyes stared directly at me through the slats in the door. She knew I was there. I couldn't breathe as she just stared at me, watching the panic wash over my face. Pietro shook his head behind her, trying and failing to push up from the floor. Max moved, drawing my attention back to her as she raised a single finger to her lips and blew out a hushed breath.

Then she was gone.

My body shook as I stared at the door, through the slats at Pietro's fallen form across the room. I didn't know if she was really gone, but I couldn't just stay in here and let him die. I clutched at the knob again, hesitant in my exit as I looked down the hall where I was sure she had disappeared through, but no one was there. The tower had gone quiet again.

I rushed over, pressing my hands over the wound. "Oh God, oh God!"

Pietro moaned in pain, "G-get someone."

I didn't waste a second rushing out of there and barreling down the hall. I slammed my fist against every door I came across. "Help! Somebody help me!"

Steve was the first to stumble out of his room half dressed in a t-shirt and shorts dangling from his waist. "What's wrong?"

"Pietro's been stabbed! He's in the living room. T-there's so much blood!" I clutched at my heart as it threatened to pound right out of me. "Tony was knocked out or something. I-I don't know what she did to him!”

Steve rushed down the hall, and more of the heroes were quick to follow. Natasha, with her hair all wild, was next followed by Clint. I teetered back into the room behind them.

Steve knelt down next to Pietro, pressing his hands down against the wound much like I did. "What happened?"

Pietro swallowed hard, "There was a woman. She-." He clenched his teeth and whimpered. "She cut my legs and then plunged this thing into me." He nodded weakly towards the hilt of the knife sticking out of him.

Steve took in the pools of blood below his knees, a grim expression overtaking his features. "Friday!"

The AI didn't respond.

He tried again, but nothing came from it. Natasha checked Tony's pulse, nodding to me when she found it. Selfishly, I was relieved he wasn't in any condition like Pietro. It was a fleeting thought, but I found myself relaxing just a fraction.

Clint was quick to wrap a kitchen towel around each of Pietro's legs, trying to staunch the bleeding as best as possible. Pietro cried out loud enough to wake the last person down the hall. The one door I hadn't beat on.

Wanda's small voice whispered from the end of the hallway. "Pietro?"

It was a broken, confused sound that had guilt pooling into my stomach. I should've knocked on her door first.

She took one step, then two, dropping to the floor and crawling over to her fallen brother. Wanda had begun to cry, spouting words in a language I didn't understand and fumbling to grab his hand. She caressed his face, mumbling something softly to him, almost begging him with them.

We could all see that he wasn't going to make it. We wouldn't be able to get him to the med bay in time, not with the building down. This was it and everyone knew it. 

"Pepper, please tell us what happened." Clint squatted to rest a hand on Wanda's shoulder as he spoke to me. 

I swallowed a lump forming in my throat and blinked away my tears, wiping them hard with the back of my hand. "Um-- I, uh, I heard a clatter in the living room and thought it was Tony. I came in to check and someone was standing over him. I didn't know who it was at first, they stayed in the dark and injected him with something. Then Pietro came out a-and then she was gone! I-I—"

Steve pulled me to the side, pulling my attention to his face as he held my eyes. "Did you see their face?"

I nodded, just about the only thing I could do at the moment as the anxiety began to pool in my stomach as I recalled the events again.

"What did she look like?" Steve's thumbs brushed over my shoulders in a calming manner. I appreciated it, but I don't think anything was going to help me calm down right now.

I took in a shaky breath, "Max. It was Max.”

_____

Steve-

It was like a bomb had gone off at her words. 

Clint stood from his squatted position beside Wanda as anger clouded over his features. "What?"

Pepper looked like she was going to faint, and her eyes looked far off. "It was her, I'm sure of it. B-but something was wrong with her. Her... her eyes were silver, all silver, like a cloud was covering them." A shiver wracked her body under my hands that remained planted on her shoulders. "She was so different."

I felt my brows furrow at her words, "They must have figured out a way to brainwash her like they did with Buck. But how?" 

Natasha spoke up from behind the couch, still checking Tony over. "They have the scepter. Who knows what they did to her. It could be anything."

I nodded, because she was right. We had no idea how it worked without Thor here to explain it to us. Wanda was the only person we knew that had gotten that close with it, and she ended up with superpowers none of us had ever seen before. The possibilities were endless and not at all good. I dropped my hands from Pepper's shoulders with a grimace, "We need to get the generators back up and try and get Pietro to the med bay."

Clint gave a subtle shake of his head as the room went quiet. "He's not going to make it Cap, not in this condition. Even if we did get him down there, the machines won't be running. She's taken out the whole building if Friday is down. Even the backup generators if she's smart."

Silence enveloped us as we turned to watch the interactions between Wanda and her brother. Both of them were crying, speaking fast and hurriedly in their native tongue. We all knew what was happening. We knew he wasn't going to make it out of this room. "We'll give you some space, Wanda." I nodded towards the hallway, motioning for the rest of them to follow.

I headed past my door and into the stairway, making my way down towards Bucky's floor. I moved floors because his nightmares had gotten so bad. Bucky would scream so loud Tony would hear him four floors up. I had tried to console him, but he had shut me out, even went so far as to force me out physically. He didn't want help or comfort, he wanted her back. At this point, I think it's just about the only thing that would bring him any sense of peace. He's been so torn up over what he had said to her that it's tearing him apart.

As worried as I was, he deserved to know what was going on. He had to know. I was concerned that if he found out about things any other way that he might just snap.

When I lifted my head from the floor, I was standing in front of his door. He hadn't even put a name plack on it and I was sure only Tony and I knew where he had moved to. I knocked, "Bucky, I need to talk to you." I could hear shuffling, but no footsteps approaching. I knocked again, "Buck, something happened in the tower. Pietro is... he's dying."

At that, heavy thumps echoed on the other side before the door was practically ripped open. His room was dark, and I wouldn't have seen him if it weren't for the light cast over him from the hallway. The angle the light hit him accentuated the bruises blooming under his eyes and the coldness of his gaze. "What do you mean he's dying? What the hell happened?"

I dropped my eyes to the floor once again, trying and failing to find a way to break the news any easier than it was. "Buck—”

"Spit it out, Steve." His metal arm whirred to life as he gripped the doorframe, stepping further into the light. 

I blew out a breath, "He was stabbed. Pepper witnessed it all, said... said it was Max."

At the mere mention of her name, he seemed to come alive. "What?" Gone was his cruel exterior. Like a whole other person had stepped into his body. His voice was so soft, so broken when he spoke to me. "What do you mean? She wouldn't do something like that."

I hesitated. Not because I didn't want to tell him what Pepper said, but because the man in front of me looked like if the wind blew too hard, he'd shatter. "Pepper said she acted wrong, like she wasn't really there. She said when Max looked at her, her eyes were cloudy and silver. I think that Hydra has found a way to brainwash her." 

Bucky's face fell at my words, a shaky hand coming up to comb through his hair. It didn't look like he had washed it in a while. "What are we going to do? What can I- What can I do, Steve?" Tears sprang in his eyes, "I don't know what to do!”

I wrapped my arms around him, trying desperately to hold him together, keep him from shattering all over again. "I don't know just yet, but we're going to fix it, alright?"

His arms weakly rested over my back. I could tell by the way his shoulders shook that he was crying, but I didn't say a word about it. I just held onto him. It was the only thing I knew I could do for him. 

_____

Max-

Why was it always so damn cold? Always cold with these assholes.

When I blinked awake, meeting my lovely metal cell, that was the first thing that came to mind. That, and the aching pain in my forearms.

It took me a few minutes to clear my head, groggy and a little slow coming out of whatever drug induced sleep I was sure I had taken. Hydra loved their injections. That annoying clicking filled my ears, instantly triggering a headache that was slinking around the back of my skull. I cursed it along with the bastards guarding my door. When I had finally managed to push myself up into a sitting position, I took a look at my arms.

To my surprise, they were scabbed over. I couldn't recall what on earth I had done to them, but they hurt like a bitch. 

Twisting them around, I examined the long stripes of bloodied skin. They ranged in length, but they were all about the same width and distance apart. It almost looked like someone had—

With a wave of nausea, flashes—memories—began to hammer into my head. I cried out, gripping the sides of my head and pinning it between my knees, anything to make them stop. 

Watching from across a roof, the Avengers spoke with a woman- Pepper- in a living room. Pressing a button and watching the few remaining lights in the tower flicker out as I killed their generators. Breaking into the stairwell and climbing up, up, up... Standing over Steve, contemplating how his death would affect the team, affect the world. Moving down the hall to Tony, thinking-no, deciding- that his death would hurt the most.

I remember jamming that syringe into his neck and hearing him gasp. I felt him go limp. Then there was a noise, a heartbeat, and steps down the hall. I hid, deftly moving to situate myself on top of the fridge in a shadowed area. A man I didn't recognize turned the corner with his fists raised, blurring into the kitchen. That was his giveaway, memories of Wanda talking about her brother swept through mind. Pietro was his name, and his death would put yet another nail into the Avenger's coffin. It would shove them farther apart, break them from within.

Jumping from the fridge once he had cleared the kitchen, I mirrored him. I heard someone gasp from the hall, but I knew there wasn't another Avenger awake. I had heard the woman leave her room. She wouldn't, couldn't, do anything against me. So, I cut him at the knees and slotted a knife in his stomach. A slow death, one that there was no way he would pull out of without the power up. I had spoken into his ear, "Scream and she dies." 

He hadn't screamed, hadn't even whimpered. I had quieted her too before I left, taking a quick exit out of a window and down a grapple rope. Then I had returned to base.

By the time the memories had collected themselves within my head I was breathing hard. Too hard. My throat contracted and I was afraid one of my short gasps would be my last if I didn't get ahold of myself. I clutched at the bars behind my head, desperate for something to ground me. Anything. 

I counted to ten, trying and failing to breathe along with the numbers. I picked out seven different things I could see, earning a little bit of a reprieve from the invisible vice around my neck. My eyelids snapped shut, forcing myself into darkness and focusing solely on the feeling of pulling air into my lungs before I finally pulled myself out of the panic. 

Then the guilt hit. Hard, fast, and ruthlessly. Wanda would never forgive me, not ever. Pietro was all she had. Her only flesh and blood left. I had stolen him from her. I wouldn't lift a finger against her if she were to come after me. Not after what I had done. The others too, they'd be hurt. They would mourn his loss. 

Would anyone mourn me? If I died here in this god forsaken cell, would anyone care? 

I didn't think so. Not now, perhaps not ever. 

My arms pulsed in pain along with my shredded heart. I let the cold metal of the cell floor ease the itching scabs. I still felt weak and useless, my veins felt like sand was grating the insides. Withdrawal more than likely. Whatever they were shooting me up with was taking my sobriety with it. Soon enough I'll probably be begging them to inject me just so I won't be in pain any longer. At least the kind I could feel physically. 

The door wrenched open, knocking me out of my thoughts and dragging my attention up to Giles as he entered. "Hello, little bird. You did so well! I wish you had taken out an actual Avenger though, but the witch's brother will do just as good." He circled around, a long case in his hand. 

I knew that case. My body did too, slamming itself away from him. "Don't you fucking touch me with that."

Giles frowned, lifting the case, "What, this? But I need even better results! I ordered you to kill an Avenger. Obviously, you need to be more inspired."

I was too weak to do much else but snarl at him, baring my teeth. It didn't do much to dissuade him from unclipping the case and lifting that awful scepter. Just like he had before, he inched it through the bars. I tried to cover my chest, but it didn't deter him. He just pressed the end directly to my temple and I was swept into darkness.

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@cjand10 / @calwitch / @blackbirdwitch22 / @greatenthusiasttidalwave / @hzdhrtss / @imdoingathingmom / @greatmistakes

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My mom died today.

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Whispers in the Dark 2.0

~

Chapter One: Hold Your Breath

Masterlist

~

Pairing: Dark!Din Djarin/f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Non-con, unprotected piv, restraints, dacryphillia, somnophillia

A/N: Guys the difference between the original and 2.0 in just the prologue and this chapter alone is bonkers to me! It has me so excited to have it finished so I can read the original and 2.0 side by side and see just how truly different and changed my writing is with slightly over a years difference in time. I dunno it's kinda fun but also kinda cringe because it makes me realize just how bad my writing started out in comparison to what I get written down these days, it's a strange feeling... Anywhozzles, I hope ya'll enjoy <3

Oh and should I make a taglist for this??

The slog back into consciousness is painful and exhausting. You're clawing at the walls of your mind, frantically pushing against the pain in an attempt to pull yourself from the pits of your unconscious mind. You're faintly aware of the world going on around you, of things happening and other beings existing. You float in and out of a limbo state, sometimes you think you can feel your body being moved but it's never definitive enough to say for sure. You can feel motion but not in a way you're able to fully grasp onto, just the faint feeling of not being entirely still.

You're forgetting something, you're sure you are. Something important.

But as you struggle to regain any major function, it slips from you like the faint scent of nostalgia on a breeze. Something you know on an intrinsic level but can't quite properly remember or place.

Your handle on reality starts to grow more solid with the sensation of something hard and cold beneath your body. The icy feeling on your bare skin sends a jolt of pain to your head due to the shivers it starts to wrack through your body. You feel so lonely, cold, isolated. Your brain is only half in and out of awareness.

You slowly become aware of your body being moved in a consistent rhythm. The movement warming your body up slowly as it continues on. Your head lulls back and forth as you try your best to keep your stomach from twisting in its place. Something feels wrong—something isn't right.

You try to lift your head but there's concrete weighing it down. Your eyes roll painfully behind your eyelids.

Distantly, the vague sound of a voice reaches your ears. It's not enough for you to catch but it's something different in the unyielding darkness you're wading through.

Your body twitches but is met with resistance. Your brain becomes slightly more cognizant. There's something surrounding your body—the sensation of some other thing completely enveloping your body.

Your brows furrow and crease before you're finally able to lift your eyelids. For a moment you think the opposite and that maybe your eyes are still closed, your subconscious now playing tricks on you. But then you realize just how much more aware of things you are and realize you are in fact finally awake.

There is nothing for you to see other than a black void in the space you occupy. Not even the tiniest fragment of light can be seen. You move your head as much as you're able, trying to see if you can capture anything beyond the veil of darkness.

"Has my mesh'la sarad finally joined me?" The low rumble of a male voice resonates in your ears.

The sound of it is the final thing to pull you fully back into reality.

You become all too aware of the body draped atop you, weighing you down into the floor. The steady movements from moments before have slowed but not entirely halted. The gradual realization of what's occurring reaches you in a devastating way.

Before now the pain in your head was enough to distract from any other sensations, but now there's a crystal clear clarity surrounding your current situation. There's an acute pain lacing through your lower body. You horrifyingly realize the cause of it all. The man is by no means small and there is no ease to be found in the momentum of his thrusts. Despite them being languid, the power and force behind them outweighs the slower pace.

"Oh Maker." You choke on the bitter despairing tears that rise up your throat. The more attune to the pain you become, the worse it grows. Each passing moment cluing you into the anguish that floods your body.

Phantoms of light dance across your vision as you stare up into the black room. You can feel the floor vibrate beneath you with a gentle humming. The sound of the man's heavy breaths fill your ears, his pace beginning to increase. The size of him grows undeniably evident as your inexperienced body is repeatedly forced apart for him. It's impossible for you to not cry harder as the feeling of being so wholly violated by this stranger takes over you.

The knowledge that he'd begun this while your body still lay unconscious spins you into further hysterics. Your hands lash out in a fraught attempt to push him off you. Your legs kicking out in a venture to gain possible further leverage.

A heavy weight holds tightly to your right ankle, the sound of chain clattering against durasteel echoes in the space with your frenzied efforts to fight him off. His hands come up to grab your wrists—his grip like iron bars—before slamming them into the floor above your head, a snarl of displeasure leaving him.

"I'd like this a lot better if you didn't insist on fighting," His head hovers threateningly next to your ear. "Though I can't help but admit how much I love the pretty tears you shed for me."

The wet heat of his tongue chases the path of your grief upwards before halting. Your struggle is paused as a shudder of horror and distaste rolls through you. His lips leave placid kisses on and around your shuttered eyes.

His tangential actions cause your thoughts to halt. You lay docile beneath him, your body left to be played with by his whims.

You're in pain—confused. You're not quite sure how it all led up to this point, to your body laying petrified and your mind becoming desolate.

Could you even recall what you were doing just yesterday?

Time suddenly seems far more fleeting and disjointed than prior past experiences.

The sound of indiscernible murmuring can faintly be heard in the momentary seconds of silence.

He shifts so he's holding you by your wrists with a single hand. He uses the other to lift your leg up onto his hip—his thrusts driving deeper into you still. The tiniest impression of pleasure blooms deep within your core. The change he makes in his angle is minute but that doesn't prevent the strangled wail ripping from the depths of your chest at the feeling of it.

"You don't know just how incredible you are. And fuck, you feel absolutely incredible too. Better than I could have ever dreamed." The groan he lets out is a lewd rumble. The slick sound of your bodies together fills up the empty spaces of silence. Your assault is an audible cacophonous roar in your ears. The combined echo of your coupled bodies mixed with the small sounds that leave either of you to punctuate the air is too much for your addled and scrambled mind.

You involuntarily clench around him, your hands wildly clawing at nothing as he continues to restrain you.

"Please, no…" You pleadingly whisper, but somehow you're too far gone. The sensations being forced upon you are too much to fight against and you're lost to a shameful and perplexing level of pleasure.

It proves to be too much for your assailant as you feel him begin to falter and twitch. He buries his face in your neck, ragedly panting as he finishes his pulsing inside you. He begins to create a delicate collar of kisses along your neck, a soft sigh of contentment slipping between them.

Everything feels wrong, nothing feels real.

This is a nightmare you've yet to wake up from, a night terror of the worst degree. Surely this must be something your mind has conjured in a cruel act of revenge for past sins.

You've been staring into the darkness for so long that patterns have begun to form in it. Faint wisps of vague ideas dancing and spinning before you. Your hands twitch beneath his hand's unyielding grip on them. You faintly make note of the way his cum leaks from your abused hole as he softens.

"You have no idea just how long I've been waiting for you." He places a kiss at the base of your throat. "How long I watched you before I couldn't handle only watching." He follows with one pressed to your collarbone. "I tried to be good, to be okay with just watching." Your shoulder is the next place he brushes. "I'm so fascinated by you." He presses his lips against the shell of your ear. "You have no idea just how much you've possessed me." He brings his lips to hover above yours, his next words being whispered directly into your mouth. "I intend to possess you just the same."

His lips collide into yours. There is no pretense as he shows you exactly who he is with the way he kisses you. There is nothing kind or sweet in it. It is powerful and possesive, forcing you to see his fucked up delusions and just how deep they run. His kiss feels like an attempt to consume you, his cock twitching to life inside you showing his rekindled desire.

He moves his hips against yours slowly, stoking his desire back to life. You whine against his lips, your whole body twitching uncomfortably in his hold. Now that you've come down from your ultimate high, the pain in your head has increased tenfold. When you close your eyes tightly, bright light zips back and forth behind your lids. You can feel each jolt physically dart to your brain with each minute movement of your body. The pain is intense, forcing your nausea to return frighteningly fast.

"I'm sorry." He raggedly whispers against your lips.

You force back a pained cry—though a short whine still makes its way out. You're overwhelmed by everything you're feeling and for a moment you almost beg for death. Surely any further experience with the man would grow only worse.

What if this was only the beginning for you?

"Shh," He hushes gently. "I know cyar'ika. You'll be alright. I promise you'll get used to all this. You can do this, I know you can."

You sob brokenly between the sensation of him pulling your insides apart once more and the agony radiating throughout the rest of your body.

Your hands have begun to grow numb, your fingers barely able to twitch with each continued lurch of your body. You can't help the distant note you make of just how large his hands must be to hold yours so easily. He controls you with such ease of strength, it's blatantly clear that you could never hope to be a match to this man. As long as he deemed it, you were doomed to submit yourself to him.

What choice did you have otherwise?

It isn't entirely apparent at which point you passed out but you know you had at some point. By the next time you make conscious note of anything—you're alone.

You use the moment to make an assessment of your body. Some things hurt less, some things hurt more. You're laying half on your side, half on your stomach across the cold floor. Nothing there to buffer you from the freezing steel of the floors. You slowly test your movement, your right ankle bearing its new extra weight as you move that leg back and forth slowly. Your arms are sprawled out on the ground around your head, your fingers moving slightly as you move your hands and arms to assess next. The muscles groan and strain in protest but the pain is barely the worst of it all.

Your head still hurts but now the ache has localized to a dull thrumming where it impacted the alley wall. New parts of your body have begun to ache from his cruel touch. Your core has taken the brunt of it all, pulsing painfully with additional stinging. You never would have anticipated such a brutal first time. The agony you feel from him was something you never fathomed you'd experience.

You groan quietly as you force your body to move the way you request. Slowly and with all the effort you could muster, you eventually manage yourself into a seating position against the wall you've discovered your chain anchors to. You pant concerningly from the exertion you've expended.

You feel so weak—so broken and fragile.

Confusion still lingers heavily in your mind. What led you here? Realistically you knew it was because of your shows, but how did something seemingly so innocent at the time turn into something so dastardly as this?

Why you? Out of all the millions, billions, trillions of people in the galaxy, why did he pick you? You were nobody, nothing, in all honesty no one should have noticed you in the first place. How could you have attracted such a dangerous and scary individual?

He raped you.

That's what happened.

He kidnapped you from your home, stole you away, and took your innocence from you. Not that it had ever mattered a great deal to you in the first place, but to have it so viciously and ferociously ripped from you, how could you not be left spinning out from it all.

What now? What was his end goal in all this? What was your purpose here?

Were you momentary fun? Something to play with and toss aside only a short time later. Were you meant for slaughter? A quick end to the universe's most cruel joke on you. It was hard to fathom let alone pinpoint what exactly it was that you could be here all for.

How insane was this psychopath?

What were your survival rates? Would you make it long enough to even try?

Your head spins rapidly with your inner turmoil. The time you spend awake and alone seeming to drag on infinitely. Your body goes through moments of numbness, until you're shifting and the sensations all rush back.

At some point you end up testing the boundaries and limits of your prison. You find quickly that the wall opposite you isn't all that far. You're able to crawl to the other side without your chain growing taut. You follow the walls to either side, realizing very quickly just how small this place was.

You can't help the way your body begins to hyperventilate as your direness continues to increase. The already too tight walls seem to close in around you, the darkness you're shrouded in feeling as if it were alive with horrible things you couldn't see.

You can't help but choke on a rising shriek amongst your sharp abrupt breaths. Your body felt so pained—your brain so disoriented. The whole weight of the galaxy seems to have crashed into you.

A piercing scream tears up your throat when you feel a hand placed on your shoulder. Your body lurching back as far as possible in a mad scramble to get away.

The sound of a low chuckle reaches your ears. You find yourself feeling a mix of both relief and further mounting dread at the revelation that your captor has returned.

You can feel the tears soaking your flushed cheeks, the heat in your face uncomfortable from your emotional anguish. Heaving shudders roll through your trembling form.

"Please…" You say with no particular intent.

The distress from these most recent past events has caught up with you in a terribly significant way. You're drained and tired, your will close to breaking. When he places a gloved hand on your leg you think you might shatter entirely.

"Come now, cyare. You need to eat." His voice is different than before, slightly corrupted—distorted even.

There's no point but you shake your head back and forth, wanting to remain where you cower on the floor. You didn't want this man anywhere near you, you didn't want to be anywhere near him.

He heaves a sigh, his grip on you increasing. You mutter out your protests even as you're helpless against him. If he wanted you to do something, you were going to.

He wrangles you into his arms, batting away each of your clawing attempts at him. Your hand brushes by his head, the feeling of it being covered pausing your struggle momentarily. Smooth cold metal greets your hand when it makes its brief contact.

"You really shouldn't expend what little energy you have on fighting me, you look exhausted sarad." If you were a fool you might have thought you heard actual concern in his voice.

"Just let me go, please." You murmur tearfully as he wrangles you into his embrace.

"That won't be happening. You should get that through your head quickly. The sooner you understand, the better." His voice is stern yet softly hushed next to your ear.

"What do you want from me?" You cry hopelessly.

His whisper is a fervent prayer. "Everything. Your mind, your body. Your heart, your soul."

"You're insane." You weakly challenge.

"You'll change your mind about that. You were meant to be mine, from the moment I saw you, it was a fact I knew instantly." His hand grabs your chin harshly. "You will find that it's easier to just accept that."

Your eyes overflow with terror and sorrow. You can't help but bite your lip to try and muffle your small sounds of misery. His thumb comes up to gently tug the flesh from between your teeth, urging you to release it. Your mouth drops open in a few seconds of shock, unsure how to ground yourself in the midst of this all.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you. That's why I need you to eat."

"How do I know you won't just poison me?"

"Oh sarad, you're far too precious for me to do that."

Despite how much you'd like to deny it, there's a seriousness in his words. Still, you are afraid to give in so easily. To just submit to his command.

A nervous buzzing ignites beneath your skin, making you twitch uncomfortably in his arms. Your body shudders slightly with each anxious jerk—legs kicking out along the ground.

"Shh," He coaxes gently, his tone tender in an effort to subdue you. "I know it's a lot, but the sooner you learn things the easier this will go for both of us."

You don't want to give up.

You don't want to give in.

You're so exhausted…

"That's it." He coos down at you as you settle a little further into his arms. Your tense body relaxing a minute amount as he lulls you into a sense of false security.

You're almost too tired to care.

"Are you going to continue to be and let me feed you?"

Your resistance is truly futile at this point—all you can manage for him is the slight nod of your head.

"Good girl." He brushes his knuckles along your cheekbone, down the side of your face. His voice is tender as he praises you once more. You can feel the barrier between his hand and your skin but aren't able to give it more than a passing thought. Your mind is ablaze with everything and you're having a harder and more difficult time retaining and understanding things.

"Open your mouth." He commands gently.

Your hesitation is only momentary, your fight lost for now. You squeeze your eyes tightly, feeling the tears spill across your cheeks as you part your lips for him. You don't know how he can see you to know where to direct the spoon but the first bite is guided to your lips with perfect accuracy.

You close your mouth around it, gently slurping the mysterious substance off. the utensil. The taste is bland, nondescript. The texture is a strange mix of wet and pasty. You struggle to swallow the small portion down despite knowing it's better than eating nothing. You can't help the small gag it induces as you feel it slide down your throat.

"See, I knew you could do it." He coaxes gently as he places another spoonful to your lips.

You don't want to open your mouth again but find you're losing the battle even with yourself. You've begun to run on autopilot as your body does what it can to follow his commands.

He's able to guide you into eating enough for him to deem satisfactory. Consistent praise flowing from his lips as he feeds you one bite followed by another. He places a kiss on your head after you take your final bite. A small hum of contentment rumbling against you as he does.

"You did so good. Things can be so good, if you let them."

There's not a single response you can manage, shame and sadness filling in alongside your exhaustion.

"Why me?" The question falls tiredly from your lips before you have the chance to even think to stop it.

"Oh cyare, it was only ever you." 

[mandoloriancookie]

Familiar yet Foreign

A Din Djarin x f!reader oneshot

Summary: In the depths of Canto Bight, you find something you thought you lost; his trust.

Written for @burntheedges roll-a-trope challenge - my trope was fake dating/marriage.

Word Count: 3.7k

Tags: fake marriage, untrustworthy reader, mentions of past injury, one bed hehe, protective!din, unwanted male attention, fear of loss, handcuffs, thief!reader.

Main masterlist

Canto Bight, the infamous, glitzy gambling hub, was a paradox.

On one hand, it was no place for a thief like you. With security cameras, guards and wealthy patrons on high alert.

On the other hand, the place was ripe for a skilled crook like yourself. With the promise of hefty winnings on the casino floors and in private games, temptation was everywhere. The dimly lit alleys and extravagant parties provided perfect cover for those with the expertise and daring to take advantage of the high-stakes environment.

In a way, Canto Bight was both forbidden territory and an opportunity waiting to be seized.

The only problem was you had made a promise to the Mandalorian you were traveling with.

The Mandalorian, or rather, Mando, had stood in front of you where he had sat you on a crate on his ship earlier that day. His arms crossed over his chest. The glare you knew he gave you, hidden behind the helmet.

"Listen," he said, "you're going to sit here and you're going to stay out of my way. You're not going to cause any trouble, not going to bring any attention to yourself. You're going to stay right here. Got it?" His voice was cold and unwavering and his stance made it clear that the matter was non-negotiable.

You had waited ten minutes after he left before you left.

There was too much to see and steal after all.

The city was a sprawling, pulsating beast by night. The dimly lit alleyways and shadowy rooftops were your playground as you navigated discreetly through the city. You moved like a ghost, flitting from one venue to another. From the lavish cantinas to the high-rolling casinos. Your fingers were nimble and sure, plucking riches from the hands of the wealthy as easily as if they were picking ripe fruit.

You had missed this, the thrill and adrenaline of a thief's life.

Mando was like a jailer recently, keeping you caged on his ship. He had refused to let you leave for months. The reason was clear - your error. It wasn't just a simple slip-up; it had led to an injury that had stained both Mando’s and your hands with your own blood. It had caused the bounty hunter's protective instincts to kick in. He was determined to keep you under his watchful eye, his actions both a punishment and a precaution. The atmosphere on the ship had turned heavy with tension, the silence broken only by the hum of the engines and the occasional sigh or muttered curse from the stoic warrior.

He used to talk to you, used to seek out your company.

It had been months since a conversation lasted more than five seconds.

You felt so lonely.

The air of Canto Bight was like a drug, a potent mix of excitement, opulence, and thrill. It was just what you had been craving. The atmosphere was electric, the glitz and glamor everywhere you looked. The streets were filled with people eager to gamble, party, and seek out adventure. The promise of a good time and the chance to escape your mind was intoxicating and you found yourself drawn in like an Alderaan furry moth to a flame.

You were navigating the cramped, labyrinthine ventilation shafts as you tried to avoid detection of the guards. They had thrown you into the trash filled back alley as you tried to enter the high states casino. It was a risky move, but you had done it many times before.

You were skilled at getting into places you shouldn’t be in after all.

 However, this time, your luck ran out the moment you crawled out of the vent and made a turn into a narrow corridor. Unknown to you, the hallway was not empty. You turned the corner and head butted into a solid, metallic surface. As you looked up, blinking in surprise, you realized with a pang of dread that you had head butted Beskar.

Mando.

Shit.

"I can explain," you said. The words tumbled from your mouth in a rush as Mando’s gloved hand grabbed hold of your wrist.

“We can talk about that later. I need you.” He said.

You trailed behind Mando, your footsteps echoed softly in the dimly lit corridors. The music from the cantina below was a distant, booming pulse. Its sound muffled by the thick walls but still strong enough to fill the air. The occasional glimpses of flashing lights spilled out through the doors you passed and it painted the floors in a deep purple hue, providing the only source of illumination in the otherwise dark and ominous hallway. You could feel the tension in the air and the Mandalorian's steps ahead of you seemed purposeful.

Mando came to a sudden halt in front of a guard that stood in front of large golden double doors. His hand that had been grasping your wrist just moments before moved to rest on your spine. You felt a slight pressure, a silent command to stay put. You looked up at Mando, confusion and curiosity in your eyes as you tried to puzzle out his actions.

“Mywife,” Mando said.

His what?

Before you could open your mouth to voice your confusion, Mando’s hand gave a sharp tug at your shirt and pulled you against his chest. The sudden movement caught you off guard and you stumbled into him, your back now pressed firmly against the cool Beskar. The question that had been forming on your lips died on your tongue as you felt the solid presence of the warrior behind you.

The guard looked you over, his expression skeptical as he took in your bewildered face. He raised an eyebrow and directed his attention back to Mando, his tone unimpressed. "You sure about that?" he said.

“It’s new,” Mando replied.

“Very new,” you said.

Your gaze shifted from the guard's face, which was locked in an intense, one-sided staring contest with the Beskar helmet behind you. To your left, a framed sign on the wall caught your eye. It was a gaudy, overblown declaration advertising a casino room beyond was open to married couples only.

Oh.

“My wife and I would like to play Sabacc. Now.” 

The guard sighed.

“Fine, but one wrong move and I will throw you out. Mandalorian or not.” The guard grumbled as he opened the door for you to step through.

Mando steered you through the threshold of the doors and into the crowded, lively room beyond. Round tables were strategically placed throughout the space, each occupied by couples absorbed in either their game or live Fathier Racing holograms. Groups of people roamed the floor as they moved from table to table, eagerly watching the games and races unfold. Along the walls, secluded booths provided intimate spaces for groups of people, their conversations hidden behind the low, padded barriers. The air was thick with tension and excitement. The hum of chatter and the clink of credits filled your ears.

Credits to steal.

“I can feel your fingers twitching.” Mando said.

You stole a glance at Mando. His helmet faced away from you as he scanned the room. His gaze moved from table to table, taking in every detail just as you had but for an entirely different reason. His hand was still pressed firmly against your back, its weight a constant reminder of his presence. It was familiar yet foreign. You could feel the slight tension in his touch, the subtle way his fingers pressed through the fabric of your shirt. A silent signal for you to stay close.

You clenched your fists tightly, the action a meager attempt to control the tension that coursed through your body. Your fingers dug into your palms as Mando turned his helmet to look down at you. You could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, even through the visor of his helmet. You took a deep, steadying breath, maintaining the neutral expression on your face despite the hammering of your heart against your ribcage.

"Are you going to behave?" The low hum of his voice behind the modulator sent a shiver down your spine as he spoke. You swallowed hard, struggling to find your voice as you nodded stiffly in response.

“Always.”

He scoffed; the sound muffled through the modulator in his helmet. His hand tightened in your shirt as he gripped the fabric firmly.

“I don’t need a repeat of last time.”

Despite the gruff and frustrated tone in his voice, there was a hint of gentleness in the way this hand smoothed the fabric of your shirt, his touch surprisingly careful. With his guidance, he led you to an empty booth at the back of the room. The dim lighting provided a secluded area away from the main gambling tables. You could sense the tension in his stance, the controlled strength and power coiled beneath his armor. As he motioned for you to sit, his presence loomed over you like a shadow.

As you settled yourself on the cold metal bench of the booth, Mando’s voice cut through the hum of the casino. "If I tell you to stay, will you?" His visor was trained on you, the purple dim lights above the booth casted shadows across his already intimidating visage.

You nodded.

He shifted his weight and rested his hands on his hips. He then cocked his head to the side, his gaze locked onto you. He exhaled, the sound a deep, mechanical huff, as if he were gathering his thoughts or summoning some inner strength.

With a swift, practiced movement, Mando unclipped a pair of cuffs and secured one around your wrist. You felt the cold metal pinch against your skin, the sound of the click as the cuff locked into place. Without a second thought, he attached the other cuff to the heavy table leg, effectively tethering you to the booth.

“You understand why I don’t trust you?”

You nodded again.

Because you do. You really do.

Once you were secured to the booth, Mando leaned in close. The cold, hard surface of his helmet mere inches from your face. In a low, firm voice, he informed you that he would return once he had acquired the information he needed or captured the bounty he was hunting. The weight of his words and the situation's gravity settled over you like a leaden blanket as he took a step back, his figure disappearing into the crowd of gamblers.

So, there you sat, bound to the booth. The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. You could have easily slipped free the cuffs and you knew Mando was aware of this fact as well. This waiting game was a test, a trial to see if you could be trusted again. If you had the discipline and restraint to stay put despite the temptation to flee.

You waited for him.

Around the two hour mark a burly Weequay pushed his way into the booth beside you. The weight of his body caused the metal bench to creak and groan under his weight. He settled into the space with a smirk, his eyes scanned you up and down with a leery gaze.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you said.

"You here all alone?” The Weequay leaned back, his arm slid over the back of the booth and came to rest behind you with a casual familiarity that immediately set your nerves on edge. He chuckled softly as his eyes lingered on your bound wrist. “And handcuffed?” His other hand reached for your bound wrist.

Just as you were about to snap a retort at the Weequay, a deep shadow fell over the booth. Your eyes instinctively lifted to find the source. In front of you stood the imposing figure of the Mandalorian, every inch of his body radiated tension and anger. His hands were clenched tightly by his sides, his stance wide and aggressive, as if he was barely holding himself back.

The Weequay's face twisted into a frown as he turned around, his gaze locked onto the imposing figure behind him. The cocky expression fell from his face and he visibly tensed, his body jolted in surprise at the sight of the armored warrior. He swallowed hard; his confidence vanished like smoke in the wind.

 "If you want to leave with your hand attached," he stated, each word punctuated clearly, "I suggest you take your hand off my wife." Mando's voice was as cold and hard as the Beskar he wore, the threat in his words clear and unequivocal.

The Weequay's eyes widened in surprise at the term "my wife," and his head whipped over to look at you. He stuttered over his words, his eyes darted between you and the Mandalorian. He hastily slid out of the booth; his apologies spilled out of his mouth in a rush as he took in the sight of the furious Mandalorian towered over him. In a heartbeat, he turned on his heel and scurried away, disappearing into the crowd.

The moment he left; you could see the tension in Mando’s shoulders relax. In his hand was a drink, the condensation on the outside of the glass glinted in the casino lights. With a nod, he placed the drink on the table beside you. The liquid within beckoned to you, the cool, cold condensation a tantalizing promise of relief. You practically lunged for the drink, your parched throat relishing the cool liquid as you downed it all in one gulp.

“Your wife, huh?” You smiled as you put the empty cup on the table.

After watching you practically inhale the drink as if dying of thirst, Mando bent down as he ignored you. With a swift motion, he unlocked the cuff around your wrist and freed you from the booth. He then stood straight again; his gaze fixed on you.

“Got the information I needed. We can head back to the Crest.” He said as you rose from the booth.

Mando’s reaction was instant as you reached out and grabbed his wrist, his body jolted at the unexpected touch. He turned back to face you.

“What?”

You looked up at him, your hand still wrapped around his wrist and suggested, "What if we get a room? With an actual bed, maybe?"

He stared at you.

“I may have stolen enough credits, so I can pay for it myself?”

His visor betrayed no reaction, but his body seemed to tense beneath your hold. Then, he nodded.

Mando seemed to consider your suggestion for a moment before he spoke, his voice gruff beneath the modulator. "Fine," he said, the word coming out as a reluctant agreement. He then adjusted his grip, his fingers wrapping around your wrist instead. "But only because you didn't run off," he added as he pointed his finger at you, a note of subtle approval in his tone.

As he pivoted on his heel and began to lead you through the casino, you couldn't help but smile to yourself. There was a sense of triumph in the way he tugged you along, your hand encircled by his sturdy grip. The sound of the casino faded into the background as you followed him through the corridors and to the lobby.

The moment Mando reached the counter, he reached out and rang the bell. After a moment, the guard from earlier emerged from the back room, his expression a mix of tiredness and irritation. The guard let out a long sigh, leaning heavily on the counter as he recognized the armored figure before him.

"Two rooms," Mando said. With a flick of his hand, he tossed a small stack of credits you stole onto the counter and it clattered against the hard surface.

The guard darted from the credits to Mando’s helmet and raised his eyebrows. “Two rooms?” He asked.

Mando remained still as he stared at the guard.

 "Now, why would a husband and wife need two rooms?" he sneered, a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. The guard crossed his arms across his chest, as if challenging the Mandalorian's response. The tension in the air thickened as he stared at the guard, his grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly.

“One. Room.” Mando said and you felt the anger radiate off him.

The guard raised an eyebrow at Mando's tone, seemingly surprised by the man's demeanor, but he quickly snatched the credits from the counter and handed Mando one room key.

With a swift, almost violent motion, Mando snatched the key and remaining credits from the counter. The guard's fingers barely moved out of the way in time.

It wasn’t until the door shut behind you with a soft click and a sense of isolation enveloped you that you noticed Mando's shoulders relax again. His rigid stance loosened as if shedding the tension that had been weighing heavily upon him. The dim lighting of the room cast dramatic shadows across his armor, but for a moment, in the quiet of the room, he looked less like an intimidating warrior and more like a man struggling to hold onto his composure.

He walked past you, his movements purposeful and measured and made his way to the chair in the corner of the room. He spoke as he sat down, the sound of the chair creaked slightly under his weight as he folded his arms. "I'll take the chair," he stated, his voice flat and matter of fact. He leaned back in the chair, the metal of his armor clinked against the wood.

You sat down on the edge of the bed closest to him, the springs of the mattress dipping slightly beneath your weight. You looked over at Mando seated in the chair he had claimed as his own. "I'm sorry," you said.

His helmet flicked up to glance at you, but other than that he didn't move.

You sighed.

“I’m sorry you can’t trust me like I want you to.”

“I did trust you.”

You looked up at him and nodded slowly.

“I trusted you to trust me and you-” he stopped himself with a deep sigh and shook his head, “Do you know I still find your blood in the Crest?”

Your eyes closed involuntarily as shameful memories flooded your mind. Flashes of his shaking hands on your bloody body in the dimly lit corner of the Crest. The memories played out in quick, vivid snapshots, like photos being shuffled in a deck of cards. The sound of his angry, raised voice echoed in your head. Its volume and intensity were a stark contrast to his usual collected and calm demeanor.  His hands tearing at your clothes to get to your injuries. His hands holding you down as you cried. Your cold body drenched in your own blood. His cries as he held you. You could almost feel the fear that oozed from him, a fear you had never seen in him before, and it terrified you more than your injury had.

“I can’t see you like that again,” he said.

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes again, the memories still lingered like ghosts in the back of your mind. Without uttering a word, you nodded in acknowledgment.

You turned away from him, your focus shifted to the bed that seemed too large and too empty for just you. The words "Sleep with me?" left your lips before you could second-guess yourself, your voice almost a whisper in the quiet room.

“What?”

“I miss you Mando. I won’t touch you, I just - miss you.”

Without a word, he stood from the chair.

Mando did not take his armor off like he used to. He did not slip under the covers, instead laid on top of the sheets. He did not hold you close to his chest like he had for countless months.

The distance was palpable; not just the space between your bodies, but also the distance between the connection you once shared.

Instead, you found yourself clutching the soft fabric of his cloak in your hands as you laid beside him. The scent of him that had once seemed soothing and comforting was muted by the metallic smell of his armor. Fatigue tugged at your eyelids, your mind teetering on the edge of sleep as you held onto his cloak. The bed seemed too large, too desolate without his embrace.

He was so close yet so far.

Familiar yet foreign.

As you were on the verge of that sweet surrender of sleep, his arm moved around your waist and pulled you gently closer to him. His touch was unexpected, his movements cautious yet deliberate. Your body slotted against his armored form, the cold touch of his armor against your skin a sharp contrast to the unexpected warmth that spread through you at the contact.

“Can I trust you? Will you trust me to keep you safe? Because I can’t see you like that again and I need to know if I can trust you to listen to me when it matters most,” he said. You could hear the strain in his usually calm and collected voice. The underlying hint of fear in his tone.

You nodded into his side, the strength of his grip on your waist a comfort. You had no intention of leaving his side again, the memories of his angry voice and shaky hands was still fresh in your mind. You wanted to stay close to him, for him to trust you in the way he once had.

He nodded as he sat up in the bed, his movements methodical and practiced. You silently watched as he began to remove his armor, each piece came off with a series of clicks and scrapes as he unclasped and untethered the Beskar from his body.

He left his armor stacked neatly on the chair; each piece placed with a level of care. Then, he returned to the bed, the mattress dipped slightly as he slid under the sheets. His body warm against yours.

You could have cried.

You did cry.

The warmth of his bare hand against your stomach as he pulled your back against his chest emanated more than just physical comfort. The solidity of his body against yours was a reminder that he was there with you. His touch was firm yet gentle, his fingers splayed over your stomach in a way that suggested he was afraid of letting go. You sank back into his embrace, the steady beat of his heart against your back a soothing lullaby you had not been able to sleep without.

You weren't alone anymore.

Notes

Did I stay on track of fake marriage? Maybe? – listen I tried. I sat down to try and write this three times and scrapped it three times before I finally stuck with this. But regardless, I had a lot of fun doing this! I haven’t necessarily written in the Star Wars universe before, only AU’s with Din so this was very intimidating. I did, however, like writing it. It was just scary because I didn’t want to describe something incorrectly or not write it correctly?  

[mandoloriancookie]

Looking for a story. That had 3 or 4 different bucky. . Than like the op was locked on the same level as all 3 of them to stop them from going crazy. I swear it had like 3 or 4 post.

[mandoloriancookie]

I got a Job!

[mandoloriancookie]

Anyone?

Does anyone have the link to the Chasing Butterflies Mandalorian fic? I can’t seem to find it and it is my absolute fave! Did it move sites?

[mandoloriancookie]

I need like fanfic of Din catching his so doing the tiktok trending dancing video. It would be so funny.

[mandoloriancookie]

Battered & Bruised

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: As you sit side by side on the porch outside your cabin, gazing at the stars, the stunning sight leaves you and Din reflecting on your pasts. The danger and punishing existence he once led is a lifestyle that you are so grateful he left behind to live happily with you and Grogu.

Word Count: 2.3k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: Din sustaining injuries in the past briefly mentioned but not described in any detail, hinted that reader had a traumatic past but nothing explicit... other than that it's pure fluff! ✯ Author's Note: Started off as a musing on Din being injured but enduring it for the one he loves after watching The Fall Guy (of all things) and finally ended up as pure fluff. I'm pretty exhausted after arriving home from my recent trip but managed to finish this WIP today. Hope you enjoyed, Din deserves peace and quiet and HAPPINESS... if we don't get it in canon we'll always have the fics :')

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

One of the rare occasions Din feels comfortable enough to leave the cabin you share without his helmet is when the stars twinkle high in the sky above Nevarro. At night, when it is too dark to see more than the length of a womp rat’s tail, he feels relaxed enough to join you outside without the protection of his impressive suit of armour.

You find yourself giddy each time with delight at the thought of him joining you outside, with his face briefly bared to the galaxy 

Usually, the two of you sit quietly on the porch while Grogu sleeps soundly inside, perched on the wooden bench you chose from the weekly market that passes through the town at the heart of this volcanic planet. After you moved in, Din realised that the seating arrangements on his porch could only accommodate one.

Buying it was another reminder that Din is far from alone.

So you lounge there on the bench night after night, hand in hand. Only unlacing your fingers to pour a glass of the latest exotic beverage donated by the ever-generous High Magistrate of Nevarro. 

Tonight is no exception.

Grogu was surprisingly quick to settle. Satisfied that his son was fast asleep, Din did not even have to ask whether you cared to join him for a drink on the porch. A simple look and nod were enough to convey the question. 

You know Din enjoys the peace and quiet the porch affords. Especially after long days spent raising a Mandalorian child so strong with the Force. Even though he no longer retains employment in the traditional sense – save from occasionally helping Greef Karga whenever he calls for help – raising Grogu is as demanding as any full-time job. Din rarely has a chance to relax. 

Stopping and staying still for a moment has never been particularly in his nature. Even though he is technically retired now, he would still shun such a term.

Instead, Din always seems to have a job on the go. There is always a now seldom-used blaster to clean, or a piece of armour now worn only occasionally to be polished, or maintenance for the ageing N-1 to carry out. The cabin has had more renovations and furniture rearrangements than you can count. But you never stop him. It gives him a sense of purpose, away from raising Grogu.

Despite your lives being far less busy than when you first met, evenings, where you pause on the porch, are a rare moment of relaxation for both Din and you. Alone with your thoughts, with only the faint sounds of creatures chirping across the lava flats and your even breaths for a soundtrack.

The stillness of the night appears to have left your favourite Mandalorian in a pensive mood.

Din gazes upwards towards the dark sky with a curious look in his eyes. As he surveys the stars, his brown eyes twinkle with an emotion you cannot quite place.

You watch him for a few moments; scanning his face for the slightest tell. A task which has increased in difficulty with the more time that passes.

When Din first began to remove the helmet, it had been easy to read his emotions. A life of obscuring his features beneath beskar meant that he was unaware of how expressive his face was.

Still, the cycles spent together mean that his handsome features and brown eyes are still relatively easy to read for someone who knows Din as well as you. Yet, much to your disappointment, Din has become more adept at hiding his emotions.

You wait a few minutes, gauging whether he will break the silence. Until you can take it no longer:

“What’s on your mind, riduur?” you finally ask, desperate to understand what thoughts linger behind those brown eyes.

Din turns to look at you, his eyes meeting your gaze as his plush lips curve into a half smile, “Thinking about the odds of us meeting, how there were as many chances our paths never crossed as there are stars above us.”

“Din…” you whisper, touched by the sentimental side of the man you love.

“You must think about it too…” Din asserts.

“I do,” you confess, “I wonder how a chump like me was ever lucky enough to capture your heart. How is it even possible that the tall, mysterious Mandalorian, who so intrigued me when our paths first crossed back on Coruscant, was equally infatuated with me?”

“I was,” Din whispers, “From the moment I saw you.”

You nod, squeezing Din’s hand tightly. 

“I know,” you add, your chest swelling with pride at his admission. 

You sit there for a few more moments, enjoying the silence and the security you feel from his love as the realisation that you have captured his heart hits you all over again. 

It is Din, this time, who breaks the silence: 

“Do you ever miss that planet? Your life there?” Din asks.

Clearly, your mention of your first meeting on the planet at the centre of the galaxy has caused him to cast his mind back over your life together. 

“I haven't thought about it for a long time,” you shrug, pausing for a few seconds to consider your reply, before continuing, “I suppose, if anything, I miss the eternal busyness of Coruscant. There was less silence to sit in, to be alone with my thoughts. The hustle and bustle kept me occupied, and there was always something exciting going on.”

Din raises an eyebrow quizzically at your admission, and you realise how those words could have inadvertently made it appear that your life here on Nevarro is boring somehow. That could not be further from the truth. 

You quickly move to reassure him, “Now, of course, I realise I was so keen to stay busy because I was not comfortable in my own skin. I could not bear the thought of feeling, certainly not of loving anyone. You changed that, Din. I have found joy even in the quietness here on Nevarro with you and Grogu.”

Din nods, apparently satisfied with your answer. You breathe a sigh of relief. Then, you feel your tenseness give way to softness as you melt at how his eyes suddenly appear glassy, shimmering even in the darkness. Your words have clearly affected him. 

Din squeezes your hand before he brings it to his lips, pressing an affectionate kiss to the back of your hand. You chuckle lightly at the way his moustache bristles against your soft skin. 

The moment is sweet, but you do not intend to let it pass entirely. You are curious whether Din misses his past life, or whether he is as content as you are. Happy to peacefully sit here on your porch together.

“What about you, Din? Do you ever miss your old life?” you question.

“Parts of it,” Din nods, “I suppose I miss the thrill of the chase. The constantly changing scenery. But not so much the violence and injuries that lifestyle entailed.”

“I bet,” you smirk, “You must have sustained some grisly injuries over the years…”

Din tilts his head back slightly, shuts his eyes and sighs deeply; as though he is placing himself back somewhere he has not thought of for a long time. 

“I did,” he finally murmurs, slightly wincing at the thought, if you are not mistaken, “Nothing hurts quite like a cracked rib,” Din confesses. 

“Awwww, my poor Mandalorian,” you tease, reaching out to cup his cheek, his stubble rough against the palm of your hand. 

“Don’t baby me!” Din huffs affectionately, sticking his bottom lip out in an adorable pout.

“Never,” you smirk, leaning in to gently press a kiss against the tip of his prominent nose; strong and proud just like the man you love so much. 

You stay there for a few moments, your thumb stroking his cheek softly as you gaze at his handsome features; at the scars and lines that characterise his face. There is a certain ruggedness to him now. He is slightly greyer, with more wrinkles than when you first met him. Yet, you are still as attracted to him as you were that day when you first laid eyes upon him in a New Republic office building on Coruscant. 

When you finally break the moment and lean back in your seat, Din announces that he needs to use the 'fresher. He grunts slightly as he stands, the movement placing strain upon his battered and bruised body, still scarred from his many years following such a brutal way of life as a nomadic warrior. 

That small sound reminds you of just how much lingers below the surface. Usually, Din can hide it with an effortlessness that never even makes you consider the many lingering injuries he must be carrying. But your earlier conversation has brought it to the forefront of your mind. So many legacies of Din’s former way of life are imperceptible to the naked eye. So much pain you will never know about, because he keeps it to himself. 

You wonder how much longer he would have lived had he continued leading that life. You wince as you consider what quality of life he would have had if he had continued even slightly longer. If he had waited until a particularly bruising skirmish, you are sure that he would have been plagued by his injuries, chronic pain and fatigue.

Choosing to live a different Way, while still respecting his duties as a Mandalorian, means that life looks rather different for Din now.

You are certain that leaving his demanding line of work was a decision which will allow him to live many more years happily, with both you and Grogu. A quieter life with his riduur and the boy who saved him from a life of such violence.

You are so absorbed in your thoughts that you do not hear Din's footsteps until they echo across the porch. The sound startles you slightly. You hastily wipe the few tears which had sprung at your waterline before you turn to look up at him curiously as he makes no move to return to his seat. When you fully appraise the scene before you, you realise he is clutching the blanket you throw on your bunk during the cooler months. You shoot him a quizzical look. 

“Come on, I want to try something,” Din says as he jerks his head towards the lava flats that lie just beyond the porch. 

“But... Grogu?” you question hesitantly.

“Don’t worry, cyar’ika. We aren’t going far,” Din reassures you as he holds his hand out to you.

You take it and follow him as he pulls you by the hand towards your intended destination which is, as promised, only a few paces away. Din has selected flat ground to spread the blanket on. He drops your hand momentarily to smooth out the coarse material, before Din laces his fingers through yours once more.

“Looking up at the stars before didn't just make me nostalgic. It also made me consider how nice it would be to lie out here with you. It’s so dark here, far away from the town, that I bet we can see every single star in the galaxy,” Din explains, “Maybe some comet storms if we’re lucky.”

As your eyes fill with tears, you slowly shake your head, “Din,” you whisper, touched by his sentimental side, “It sounds like a perfect idea.”

Din does not hesitate a second longer, clearly eager to gaze at the skies and appreciate all the sights the night sky has to offer. He lies back on the blanket, leaving enough space for you to join him.

You lean your cheek on the expanse of his firm chest, feeling the warmth through the thin cotton shirt he wears despite the slight chill in the air. Din’s arms wrap around your waist.

A feeling of security envelops you. 

You never feel more protected from all the monstrousness in the galaxy, all the evil that you and Din are only too aware of from your past lives than when you are lying in his arms. As you nuzzle into his chest, you feel his heart thumping rhythmically against your ear. You are grateful that it still beats; that you have captured his heart. 

Who knows if he would even still be here if it wasn’t for that encounter with Grogu on Arvala-7? That the brutal pace of his life and the numerous enemies he had made would not have eventually caught up with him?

You are about to remind him of how grateful you are that the most punishing combat he has become embroiled in recently is with Grogu when he seems more intent on eating frogs than his vegetables when Din’s husky voice breaks the silence.

“You know, I would take all of those injuries again in a heartbeat if I knew it was you and Grogu that my life was leading me to,” Din whispers.

He has shared many touching words with you this evening, but this one may have finally rendered you entirely speechless. You push yourself up on his chest, able to make out the faint silhouette of his face even in the darkness. 

In the time since your first meeting, you have discovered that the Mandalorian warrior who once struck fear into your heart has a surprisingly soft side. Still, Din’s sentimentality does not stun you any less each time you are privileged to glimpse it. 

You lean down to capture his lips with yours, hoping to convey with the gesture what you cannot with words.  You are just glad that he does not have to choose. 

Din is no longer battered and bruised. Instead, he shares a peaceful, happy life with Grogu and you. 

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[mandoloriancookie]

Kiss Me Thru The Comlink

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: Ya know like… like Kiss Me Thru The Phone by Soulja Boy but make it ✨Star Wars✨

Summary: Din’s after a bounty and you can’t help but miss him. So he decides to put the comlink he gave you to good use.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), Grogu is not present, reader is able-bodied, porn with little plot, established relationship, phone sex (thru a comlink), mutual masturbation, pet names, no use of y/n

“It’ll only be a couple of rotations,” Din says, leaning against the Razor Crest.

“That’s too long,” you pout.

The climate here is harsh, a planet you’ve never heard of. The wind whips your face, making your eyes well up with tears. 

“It just means the reunion will be all the more special,” he reassures you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. You flatten your palm against his, interlocking your fingers with the orange tips of his gloves. 

“I know…” you sigh. 

His other hand caresses your chin and he leans forward, closing the gap between you. The cool beskar of his helmet rests against your forehead, a way of “kissing you goodbye”. 

“I’ll see you soon, cyare. Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.”

He always tells you he loves you before he leaves, regardless if it’s for an hour or multiple rotations on end. You repeat it back to him, always in Mando’a, and step back, letting set off into the night. You walk up the ramp of the Razor Crest, watching him until he’s out of sight. 

You seal the Crest and deal with the stillness, the reality of being alone. You’ll be okay and Din knows that. He knows you can hold your own. But that doesn’t mean you’ll miss him any less. In the event of an emergency, he always leaves a comlink for you, too. 

He’s gotten better about estimating how long he’ll be away for bounties. Before you were left in the dark, left waiting for him for what felt like rotations on end. But as your love and almost codependency grew for one another, he became better at letting you know how long he’d be gone. For he’d rather have you safe at the Crest, longing for his presence instead of having you by his side when he’s on a dangerous job. 

But it’s only a matter of time before the loneliness settles in. Scrolling mindlessly on your data-pad won’t distract you forever. The Crest feels so empty and lifeless without him. The bunk is too roomy. You’re missing your man made of metal pressed up against you with a strong arm slung around your waist. 

You glance at the comlink sitting at the foot of the bunk. He’s only been gone a few hours. You fight the urge to talk to him, rolling over and drifting off to sleep. 

-

Your dream is filled with him. Of course, they are. It’s a cruel game, your mind playing tricks on you and making you feel like he’s really there. The dream starts with innocent, typical things like enjoying a sunny day on Nevarro together, kicking back in the cockpit of the Crest as he takes off. But soon enough the dream reveals your deepest desires. Your subconscious concocts an image of him hovering above you, cock sliding in and out of you. He takes his glove and stuffs it in your mouth, leaning down and telling you in a gravelly whisper, “Good girls are quiet.”

It feels so real, your cunt spasming with your orgasm as it rips through you. It’s warm. It’s wet. It’s everything you want.

And it’s not real. 

You wake with a startle, dripping in sweat, and a wetness brewing between your legs. That’s it. You can’t resist anymore. You sit up and reach the comlink, pressing the button and whispering, “Din?”

With bated breath you wait for a response, feeling a bit stupid since he’s most likely asleep. But to your surprise, his sultry modulated voice comes through over the comlink.

“Yes, cyar’ika?”

“I… miss you,” you admit.

“I miss you, too,” he says with a light chuckle. “What are you doing now?”

“I just woke up from a dream. But what about you? Are you safe?”

“I’m okay. I’m holed up in a cave. Tell me about this dream.”

“It was… about you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Cyar’ika… What kind of dream?”

“Well… maybe it was sexual.”

“You can tell me all about it but only on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Touch yourself for me.”

As if that was a hard ask. You lie back and slip your hand down your pants, keeping the comlink close to your ear. You feel the wetness in your cunt that built up during your slumber as flashbacks of the dream play in your mind. 

“Okay,” you say with a shaky breath.

“What was the dream about?”

“You had me on my back…” you start, curling your fingers against your walls. 

“Mhm.” 

There’s a bit of shuffling in his last message and you can’t help but wonder… Is he touching himself, too?

“Are you stroking yourself?”

“...Maybe. Keep going.”

“You were fucking me and staring directly into my eyes… But I was being too loud.”

“Sounds like you,” he chuckles. 

“So you gagged me with your glove.”

“Oh yeah?” he says, letting out a strained moan. “Tell me, cyar’ika. How wet are you?”

“So wet, Din,” you whine, pleasuring yourself faster and faster. You close your eyes and bite back moans until you remember…. He probably wants to hear that. 

You moan into the comlink, seeing stars in the backdrop of your closed eyes, desperately wishing he was here. 

“My pretty girl… Such a needy little thing moaning for me like that.”

“I need you,” you whine.

“I know, cyar’ika. I know,” he coos, his moans and grunts growing louder and louder as he strokes himself. You picture his cock. It’s probably rock hard and leaking with pre-cum. Maker, how you wish he were here.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. 

“Let me hear it.”

Like a good girl, you moan into the comlink as you cum. Your cunt clenches your fingers, your release soaking them while you ride out your high. You let go of the button on the comlink, anxiously awaiting his reaction. But instead, you hear him cum, groans erupting over the comlink as he moans your name. It feels you with a sense of pride, knowing that hearing you cum brought him to his own orgasm, knowing that he’s picturing you. You’re always even when he’s gone. 

When he’s done you ask, “Did you make a mess?” with a chuckle.

“I did…” he groans, “But it was worth it.”

“Thanks for answering so late.”

“Anything for you, cyar’ika. Sweet dreams.”

And with that, you finally get your peaceful sleep, knowing that you’ll have your Mandalorian by your side soon. And that he certainly misses you just as much as you miss him. 

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

[mandoloriancookie]

Love at First Sight: A Complication (3/9)

A/n: LOL LOL LOL, continuation of the first pregnancy. Again, if you read this before uhm... no ☺. I changed some minor things. I already liked this part so it was fun to reread and revise.

Warning: Dark!Din, Dub-con smut, breeding/pregnancy kink, very heavy with the kinks in this one, Stockholm Syndrome, dark fic!!!

Love at First Sight Masterlist

You watched Din from the kitchen, washing dishes as you were softly reclined against a rocking chair. He gathered enough credits for it after a few bounties off world, he said it was to help you relax, to help you feel better.

You glare from where he stood, drying his hands on a towel at the side of the sink and turning to you slowly with a warm smile. You couldn’t help but think he looked smug.

His eyes roam over your form that you kept hidden with a blanket. His gaze stays on your belly.

You wince as you shift, trying to find a method to have the least amount of pressure on your back. The pain has been building up for months. It was hard to find relief now so late in your pregnancy.

You were slightly overdue. He wasn’t as worried as you and you were practically trying to get him to do something about it since the first few days the complication occurred.

You’ve been begging him to see a doctor for the past month before your due date, but he denied, stating that he knew a lot about pregnancy and birth and that he was practically prepared for anything. You were a bit frightened when he came to you with a vial of pills and tablets one day, claiming they were vitamins.

He said he asked a physician for them but you had a feeling the barrel of his blaster did most of the persuasion. Especially since you only went to the doctor once to confirm your pregnancy and Din refused whatever they wanted to prescribe you, even denying them the chance to talk to you in private and to schedule another appointment.

You didn’t think it was healthy being cooped up in a ship for most of your pregnancy. Ever since he took you, you’ve been idly waiting for him to return each and every day from his missions. You had nothing to do, nothing to think about except him, him, him.

And the child. But taking care of the green baby was more effort than it was before. It used to be a reprieve. A solace. But he stays the same age. He was fifty and he still toddled like a three year old.

He constantly needed attention and care. He’d wander and get himself hurt if you weren’t vigilant. You often wonder if the mandalorian knew he subjected you to constantly be a mother. If you were stuck with him for the rest of your life that is…

That may have been his plan after all.

Din stays longer because of your restrictions in mobility as the child inside of you grew. It makes you feel suffocated. Although everything does at this point.

He moves towards you and you think you would have liked it if he had his armor on. It made him seem less human. As if his depravity was justified.

Your hands shake when he pulls you up from your seat carefully. You’ve been on the verge of crying lately, one because you physically were exhausted and two because he refuses to take you to a doctor or even a midwife often causing you to shun his advances tries for conversation.

He guides you to the bedroom and you pass by the nursery, slightly peeking inside to hear the soft snores of Grogu bundled up in his blankets. Your hand goes to your stomach as you stop for a moment watching the rise and fall of his breaths.

To think soon there would be two little noises of gurgles and giggles in the house. You almost laugh at the predicament. You would have never thought you would be here months ago.

A part of you believed that you would have travelled the galaxy before settling down. You glance at the mad beside you. Maybe in another life, one where he was normal, where he was sane… you would have travelled the universe together, willingly had a family together.

Dins hand puts pressure on your back and you groan. The bedroom seemed like a good idea now, you wanted to lay down. Dins heavy steps creak against the wood as you shuffle to bed, reaching out for the blankets and attempting to crawl to your side of the bed.

He chuckles as you struggle to get comfortable, rearranging and moving things around and then sighing again when it didn’t look or work right. He stops and his face falls when he could see the tears drop against the pillows below you, making the covers darken.

His hands roam frantically over you, finding nothing physically wrong. He frowns and smooths a hand over your head and face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks panicked, his words short and quiet. You sniffle. You couldn’t help but start to ramble.

“I’m so tired and I feel heavy and I need to see someone, something might be wrong with the baby, with me, I just-“

He stops you, holding your hands gently.

“Hey, hey, we’ll go tomorrow, yeah?” His voice was shaky. He was desperate to placate you.

Your tears stop and you calm instantly. He narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“Okay,” you respond and lay on your side. You really were worried, and scared. You also wanted to go outside. It was a chance to see the world again before you inevitably had to hide in your wooden spacious cottage.

He wrapped you up tightly in winter clothes. He said it was cold when you started to complain, and he was right, but he didn’t have to know that as you stepped out into the snow your teeth clacked slightly before you willed them to stop.

The planet was covered in a soft blanket of white. The homes expelling fumes from their heaters and fire places. You’ve never experienced snow in your home world.

You stared at the open door suddenly feeling nervous to get to know this new village.

The 'trip' was going to be to Grogu's school, since you've never seen it, and straight to the local midwife's home.

Grogu was wearing his mittens and his boots, and you gushed over him when he huffed and puffed from Din putting a hood over his head, protecting his sensitive ears.

You couldn't bend down to pick him up, but Din brought him to your arms and he stopped his whines considerably. Your mobility was further restricted from the fur lined coat placed on top of your shawls.

The sheer amount of clothes you were enveloped in made you look hearty, rather than expectant.

As you shed your layers once entering Grogu's classroom, you still felt as big as before, especially as everyone started to crowd and lean over to watch as the mandalorian carried your coats for you. You sigh, watching as Grogu twaddles off to his friends, giggling and happy.

Everyone was surprised by your presence. They’ve never seen you before, except for the time you arrived a few months back, your stomach was still small, at least smaller, and only a select few were able to catch a glimpse of you if ever when you were out of the house to get some air.

Still, your cottage was located further away from the others. It was bigger as well, with plenty of land around it. Din cared for privacy and only the neighbors were able to keep up with your outdoor appearances.

Rumors spread quickly of the Mandalorian and his “wife”. They thought he was very protective of his family by the way he scoped everyone out the first few days he brought his son to school, almost cold in his demeanor when he asked about the classrooms and their policies.

Din had gone momentarily to speak to a teacher assistant. A droid. You’ve learned of his distaste for droids early on. He keeps you far from them if he can.

He leads the assistant to the side as they try to greet you. Your mouth opens in a polite greeting but Din’s sharp tone cuts the droid off midway.

For a moment you stood there, suddenly feeling your heart beat rapidly in a mix of embarrassment and anxiety.

Many of the parents approached you, asking which child was yours. You pointed towards Grogu, and they gawked, looking to the Mandalorian and wondering what he looked like under the helmet.

They initially thought you were the green one. Now they were wondering if it was him.

As many of the parents chuckled softly and began to pull you into a group of gossipers, your nerves died down.

You appreciated being talked to, maker knows how long it had been since you’ve interacted with anyone.

You gasp when they ask to touch your stomach and you’re suddenly pulled back into a cold and hard chest. Some swooned at the protectiveness and some looked at you in pity, especially when he stared down at the parents talking to you.

You rolled your eyes. They took it as you showing your annoyed fondness towards his actions.

——————————

The walk to the midwife was short, and you didn't have to wait long to be admitted into her makeshift office.

You appreciated the padded chairs and the homey feeling inside. The warm brown walls and the vibrant plants inside made you feel safe. But the midwife, not much older than you, watches in amusement.

Din complains when she orders you to undress quickly after shaking your hand, not yet being told the problem but looking smug as she puts on her gloves.

Your eyes blink up at him pleadingly as you start to shrug your many layers off and she pats on a medical table located further into her cottage. Her warm smile invites you onto the table easily. He sighs loudly, passing over his blaster at his waist pointedly before leaning against the wall next to the doorframe outside.

She rolls her eyes before closing the door softly.

"Very protective, hm?" she mutters cheekily. You nod, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

"When was your last check up?"

She sits in front of you, a rolling chair whose creaking wheels make your eyes shift.

"Eight months ago."

Her brows furrow slightly before relaxing again.

"You're really far along, sweetheart," she scolds softly.

You wanted to cry. You felt guilt build up in your stomach, even if it wasn't entirely your fault. Her eyes glance from her notepad to you and she pauses at your anxious state. Your hands shake as you place them over your stomach.

"I think I'm o-overdue..." you stutter worriedly. Her brows shoot up and you start to panic, your eyes start to water, and your breathing picks up. She shushes you gently, her eyes glancing towards the door.

"I'm going to do a checkup for you, okay?"

You breathe in deeply and exhale. Nodding along to the instruction to calm.

The checkup took about an hour, Din was practically pacing outside of the door by the time you came out, smiling tightly and fully dressed again.

The midwife sat you both in her office, which seemed almost comically small for Din's bulking form.

"The baby is fine," you both sigh in relief and she smiles at you, she turns to Din, "I performed a membrane sweep on your wife-"

"I'm not his wife," you interrupt quickly, fiddling with your fingers over your bump. He turns to you in slow silence, obviously irked by your comment. She stares between you both, clearing her throat and continuing.

"Like I was saying, I performed a membrane sweep on her and-"

"What is that?" he demands.

She sighs deeply, maintaining her smile with a strain.

"It's a technique where we take the amniotic membrane off by sweeping over the cervix. Helps her body know that she’s ready."

He nods as if he understood. You sigh.

"The success of the procedure isn’t certain. I suggest other methods of inducing labor as well."

She smiles cheekily as she leans her elbows on her desk, Pressing her hands over her chin and grinning fully at your confusion.

"Of course, the most enjoyable method is to have sex, but there are other methods."

You tense, Din shifts in his seat, watching as she writes down on her notepad and rips the sheet off loudly.

Before she pushed you both out of her door she winked.

He was relatively silent on the walk home and you were buzzing, practically bouncing on your feet as he started opening the door.

He was expecting you to jump him the moment he took off his helmet and you started shedding your coats to the floor. But he was shocked at the way you practically ran, more like waddled, to the kitchen, taking out ingredients for spicy stew.

You didn't even notice him walk out the door to pick up the kid from school, too busy pacing around the house and eating fruit.

During dinner you breathed in and out your mouth wide open, pouring water down your throat from the excess amount of spice you put in your own serving. He shook his head gently at your antics, especially when you went to sleep without even looking in his direction.

——————————

It's been two days; the membrane sweep did not work, and you were getting antsy. You've checked off every single thing off the list, except for the ones that needed a certain partner.

You were getting antsy, your hands were constantly on your belly, almost pushing down as if that would make the baby come out.

The house was warm, Grogu was playing in the common area, gurgling half mumbled numbers as he pushed building blocks and toy ships one by one.

For a brief moment you imagine a baby next to him, a human baby. Brown hair, brown eyes. Playing along.

You brush the window curtains open, the slight chill of the glass migrating to your cheeks. You shiver as you see the image in front of you.

You watch Din's deft fingers work over the panels of his ship, hyper focused on the way they flexed against the metal and the way they gripped tools.

Sparks flew, illuminating his armor and helmet. He grunts in irritation when a weld didn’t come out as well as he’d liked.

He turns. His hands making their way to his hips as he watches you back.

You retreat further into the house when he quirks his head in question of your stare. The moment he entered the household he was met with you waiting at the table for him, food ready at the table and steaming.

Dinner was relatively silent; you were unfocused, and you ate mechanically. You hurried to the bedroom the moment you finished and placed your plate in the sink.

You take a yawning Grogu from his seat and hurriedly strode to the nursery.

He sighs, getting up to wash.

He stood in the hallway, dishes done and left to dry in the rack, watching his son sleep peacefully. The crib next to his empty and half of the room vacant. He sighs, wishing the baby would come soon.

There were two separate bedrooms apart from the main bedroom, each big enough to accommodate two or three children. Grogu had chosen his little siblings toys. The color of the walls.

He was just as excited.

"Din, I need your help," you shout from your bedroom. He comes in immediately.

"What happened?" he shouts back, looking frantically throughout the room.

You were in the bathroom; he ran towards you only to see you in your underwear twisting and turning in front of a mirror.

"Why did you take me?" you ask, tracing over the trimming of lace lining your panties. Your ass looks incredible as you pulled up the waistband over your hips, it bounces as you poke at it, wincing when the cellulite emphasizes over the lighting.

You sigh, looking towards him in a heady stare. He walks over to you, envelopes you in his arms and sighs as you turn your face away from his chest.

"I love you."

"Do you? I don't think you can fall in love so quickly-"

"Well, I did," he says shortly.

You sigh, his hands smooth over your abdomen and you stop his hand, watching him through the mirror intently.

Something was wrong with him, he knew. You drove him to do things he wouldn't do otherwise. It was as if the moment he saw you, something was triggered in his brain. He couldn't function without you now, he would get angry, depressed, demoralized.

You were a necessity now.

"Would you fuck me, Din?" you ask innocently. He shivers at the way your eyes lift lazily up to meet his in the mirror.

You lead his hands under your underwear grinding against his palm as he cups your mound.

His fingers get sucked into your cunt and you sigh. You rest your head against his shoulder.

"Please..." you beg. A quiet okay was said behind your ear and your feet shuffle in anticipation.

His hand quickens and his fingers work you over slowly and firmly. It was as if you were being rocked by a wave, back and forth his palm connects with your clit, rubbing it firmly and then sliding across it, letting it go and doing it over and over again.

You gnaw on your lip, you could feel heat build within you ever so slowly, so gently that you sigh in content. The pain and throbbing of your body was soon forgotten as he led you to the bed, his fingers gliding over your folds and moving to your opening mouth languidly.

You suck his fingers as he laid on the mattress pulling you on top of him. He imagines your sucking motions to be akin to your lips around him, you look into his eyes deeply as your tongue swirls over his digits. He groans, slowly pulling away from your lips and trailing his fingers over your neck and towards your breasts, cupping underneath them and making your eyes roll up.

His chest was firm underneath your hands as you closed your eyes and moved your hips to an invisible rhythm.

The next morning, he would finally notice the red marks marring his skin, as he glances towards you, watching him as you pull the sheets up to your breasts, covering them in an innocence he knew was a farce.

His cock bumps against your cervix repeatedly, and you speed up, feeling him open you up each time your hips met.

You whine when your thighs start to cramp from your desperate movements.

"I-I can't -"

He flips you making sure you bounced and landed carefully on top of the sheets and pillows.

"You want it hard or soft."

You moan.

“Hard. Please.”

He has you with your back against his chest, your legs spread wide as he spears his cock into you quickly. You gasp with each thrust, arching your back against him as he sucks bruises against the tender skin of your neck.

His hips plop against your ass loudly, you had to cover your mouth from the feeling of your slick running down towards his thighs and making you slide easier against him.

You feel pure pleasure, almost as if your body is renewed and numbed down to a form in which pain doesn’t exist. You cum harder than you ever had before in your life and as you fall limply against the sheets, your belly atop a comfy pillow placed under you by Din, you sleep instantly.

He was convinced he made you pass out and for a second he worries, almost sliding his cock out of you before you whined, gripping his hand and pulling him so that his arm would wrap around you, effectively forcing him to stay put.

You shivered when you felt him shove himself deeper inside of you because of the proximity. Eventually when you were deep in sleep, which hasn’t happened in a long time, he pulled out, his seed and your slick rushing out of you.

You woke up that day feeling better than ever, albeit a little sore, but you don’t think you’ve felt that much relief in a while.

As you sit up you groan, the weight of your bump finally getting to you. You look to your side seeing the outline of his half erect cock through the sheets and hold your breath.

He woke up with his cock in your mouth, already hard as you climbed on top of him and started grinding.

He was elated at the fact that you were initiating this. It made him feel as if he was wanted, as if he had a purpose.

You couldn’t agree more as his thick cock stretched you that morning, making you see stars and replacing the aches in your body with pangs of intense pleasure.

——————————

It felt good to be fucked. It felt good for him to tire you out and to sleep from satisfied exhaustion. So, you did it each and every night until you would inevitably go into labor.

It had gotten to the point where you didn’t even worry about how overdue you were, you just wanted the excuse to have him inside of you all of the time.

He was feral for it. He loved your body; it was so plush and swollen and his. The fact that anyone from the outside, when you make him take you out for walks to aid in your predicament, could see that you were carrying his baby made him want to ravish you then and there.

You would often have mothers come up to you now, saying that you were going to have a big baby, and that they would probably be as strong as their father. It made him keen.

The whole village knew you belonged to him, especially as you stuck to his side and huddled for warmth from the heavy winds and the freezing air and especially as you hold his son as if your own, close against your chest as if you haven’t seen him for years even though he was just a walk down a path the whole day.

Everyone thought you were a happy family. They thought that when you wrapped your arm around his you were cherishing your time together, you were, in a way, it was just that you only wanted his cock. He usually took that as a signal to hurry up home, especially when your hands started to wander over his chest plate, supposedly wiping off dust or snow from his armor.

A big and happy family is all he wanted. He was just missing a member at the moment.

——————————

“Fuck, Din, h-harder.”

It's been three days so far. The midwife said you were dilated 1 centimeter. It only made you more desperate for his cum.

Sperm softens the cervix, and a soft cervix prompts dilation.

"I can't-" he groans, holding your hips still and leaning away.

"Please-" You press your ass against his crotch, pressing him deeper into you and making yourself gasp out against the pillows, your drool accumulates and spreads against the pillowcase, prompting you to lick your lips.

"We're so close..." you say pleadingly.

He squeezes your waist, stilling you from bouncing your hips against him.

"Close to what?"

"Our baby," you whine.

You knew him well. You knew what made him tick, and how well you could manipulate your way for something you wanted. That being, getting plowed into the mattress, with the bonus of speeding up the process of labor.

Your voice echoes in his head. Our. You usually referred to them as yours, because you're carrying them and you're going to be the one taking care of them. So you thought.

Also, because you didn't want him, at all and in any form, out of sexual pleasure.

He twitches and you swear you hear him growl. A shiver runs down your spine and you push him further.

"I want to give you a baby. Don't you want me to?" you murmur moaning and whiny, mimicking the women in holos usually seen in your same position.

Your hand moves under the swell of your belly, making you wince from the uncomfortable position and connect with your clit. You circle your hips, feeling him start to thrust lightly against you.

"You can put another in me after..."

His fingers meet yours and rub with you. You almost scoff against the pillow from his sudden eagerness, but your breath catches from a particularly hard thrust.

"I'll give you as many children as you want," you blurt out as you feel your body heat up quickly. You didn't have a filter anymore, your mind was shrouded in the feeling he was giving you, in the need to reach completion.

"Please- I want to expand- mph, our clan-"

He hushes you, thrusting into you with precision and pushing you into the sheets below careful to not put pressure on your stomach. You didn't even notice that he turned you over, your back hit the mattress, his hands pinning you beneath him. His mouth glides along the valley of your tits.

His tongue slides over to your swollen and dark nipple, helping him engulf your fatty tissue into his mouth. He sucks in pulses.

He lifts your ass in the air, pressing himself as deep as he could go before pulling out and thrusting in again. His pelvis slides against your clit each time his cock meets your cervix.

You come apart with a tremble and a high-pitched whine. He groans into your breast, sucking until your milk coats the inside of his mouth. Your back slowly lowers back into the soft blankets and he holds himself up, his head buried in your breasts.

You sigh, pressing your hands against his hair as the pressure on your chest was being relieved. His cock was pulsing in time with his suckles.

Your nails were scratching behind his head, caressing his brown locks and smoothing a thumb over his cheekbone.

He came with a long groan, still inside of you, when you tug on his locks after he bit you lightly.

He lifts his head, his eyes search your own blissed out ones, half lowered and drowsy. When he kisses you, you respond back sensually, slowly and as if you meant it.

It stung him.

The only way he could get you to show him affection was if you were in a state of euphoria and not your complete self. You grumble as his lips start to part yours.

"I'm tired," you mumble. He chuckles, nodding his head, helping you shrug some pillows under yourself and placing his body behind you. You hum as you press your head against the pillow.

His lips meet your earlobe and you smile lightly, still in a daze. You pause when he speaks, lowly.

"I will get you swollen again. I know you; you seem to forget that. I know your using me to get off, but any words said to me are a promise."

Despite yourself and despite everything else you clench around him, a quiet moan escaping you as he presses himself against your back and slid back into you slowly.

The very next day the contractions hit, he carried you to the midwife across town and you met a very beautiful, yet slimy, chubby baby.

Your eyes softened when he first handled her with gentle care, as if she were made of glass. He smiled, almost grinned, when she gurgled and moved her head from side to side, looking for you.

You forced your hands to stop shaking when you gently cradled her to your chest. Staring into her eyes as they opened slowly, you truly started to believe it wasn’t unbelievable he fell in love with you so quickly.

A/n: Reblogs and Comments much appreciated lol. 🥰❤️ mwah! 💋

[mandoloriancookie]

Love at First Sight (1/9)

A/n: I had a dream, and this is what happened. It's the breeding kink for me smh. Also, my requests are open! If you read this before you probably have lolz. Consider this a reboot.

Warnings: Dark!Din!, dub-con, stalker behavior, breeding/ pregnancy kink, kidnapping, smut, heavily implied forced pregnancy, Dark fic!

Love at First Sight Masterlist

He meets you at some scroungy run of the mill planet barely making by. A part of his heart aches for the way you beg for more credits as you finish your shift at the droid restoration center.

The desperation in your tone prompts him to start to watch you from afar.

As the days pass and he purposely doesn’t catch his bounty he starts to get enamored with the idea of you. He watches as you make your way home, stopping by to pass some younglings some fruits from occupied merchant's stands.

You entertain their chatter, their games and their childish squabbles. The children found solace in you and in some way, they were a distraction to your misfortunes.

The way you treat your village's younglings with kindness makes him fawn over the idea of possibly giving you kids of your own.

You are wholly unaware of his stare. Too lost in your desperate need for credits and the worry of not having food or at the very least rations on your plate for the days ahead of you. You were glad you didn’t have any family. Not even a partner. You only had to work for yourself.

He was glad too. There would be less people that would miss you. He takes advantage of your desperation. He doesn’t feel any sort of remorse about that.

You started to find packets of rations on your doorstep frequently. You’ve even started to gain some weight because of it. At least enough to make your ribs stay hidden underneath your skin.

Din watches each day as you start to smile more, your cheeks were fuller, and your natural form was filling out. A sense of pride fills him. He did that. He’s the one making you happy and keeping you satisfied and well fed.

A month in he starts to get antsy. He suddenly has the deep need to touch you. To feel your warmth. Watching you wasn’t going to be enough anymore.

You noticed his every move. The whole village did. Mandalorians were thought to be the best hunters in the galaxy and yet, it seemed as if he couldn't find his target anywhere.

It was frequent discussion amongst the adults. Why was he here? Who was he looking for? At times, you'd turn your head to stare. His vizor would pointedly look elsewhere. His hand would twitch, and it felt like he caught your gaze.

You'd walk past him quickly, striding with your bag, head down and breath quickened. You're sure he didn't even notice you, why would he?

He starts to dream. At first, they were short and sweet, holding hands and caressing cheeks. Things seem to divulge from there. Passionate kisses turn to hot touches. Then that leads to him breeding you over his console, his bunk, the riverbank where you wash your clothes in the middle of night, thinking that you have a semblance of privacy from the village, the children, your boss... Anywhere where he could have you, he did. In his dreams.

He always thought you looked beautiful. If only he saw you fucked out of your mind, babbling his name and pleading him to expand his clan together. Then you would look like a goddess.

The minute he walked up to you asking you for directions to a bar, which he’s been to multiple times at this point, you smiled at him. He ignored the way your eyes frantically looked around, how the rest of the villagers stumbled away.

You were just nervous. You heart was probably beating out of your chest not from fear, but from adoration.

He liked the way you easily trusted him. It was as if your soul was meant to be intertwined with his. You were basically eating at the palm of his hand, he thought.

“Can you lead me there?” He asks after you told him where to go, pointing towards the other direction, heel already turned to walk away. You nodded but hesitated. You're pretty sure he could find it himself; you didn't say anything to retort.

You chuckle to yourself as some of the children from your town wave at you frantically and he wants to have that sound embedded in his mind forever. He looks to you and heat rises up your neck. The visor was pointed so directly at you, his gaze was all encompassing.

Once you’ve made it to the front doors of the town bar you shift on your feet. He watches as you play with your tunic, lifting it slightly and showing some of the skin of your belly.

He has to keep himself calm as he imagines it round and full. Bursting and swollen with his child or children. His stance widens slightly as he feels the front of his pants get hotter.

“Here we are-“ “Would you like to have a drink?” You sputter as he speaks over you.

You chuckle awkwardly. “I don’t drink. Sorry.” He doesn’t stop staring at you. You fidget nervously when he doesn’t make a move to go inside. By himself.

“I guess I could just order a juice… or something.”

He asks you about yourself. You respond as vague as possible. It was alright, he already knew everything about you. He assumed you were just shy.

You were slightly taken aback by his persistent behavior. Your heart warmed at the thought that he was interested in you, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was deeply wrong.

He was dangerous. He was strapped full of weapons.

You didn’t think much of it after a while, when he spoke to you in a soft gentle voice. He had a dry sense of humor, an awkward disposition. The fear turned to intrigue, and he told you he was planning on leaving planet in the next few weeks.

That prompted you to lead him to your apartment. You didn’t want a relationship, not with a bounty hunter at least, you just wanted some company.

He was a passionate lover, you thought. He always focused on your pleasure and then his. He whispered the dirtiest things to you. Half mumbling and stuttering about how he was breeding you and stuffing you so full of his cum that he was going to get you pregnant with his babies.

You didn’t fully understand his words, but you liked the thought of them, only the thought. You just didn’t know he meant them from his heart, and that the moment your passionate night ended his plans for you were solidified.

Company, you got. Every day he would knock at your door accompanying you for breakfast and sometimes staying until dinner. In your ignorance you thought he was just lonely. You wanted to see him as a fling, you thought he did too.

One day he sounded exceptionally happy. The whole town had isolated themselves inside their homes. That very morning, the Mandalorian finally hunted.

Blaster fires could be heard resounding from the market area, patches of residue were left on walls and stalls. He showed at your front door, holding a bag, pooling with red underneath it.

He asked you to come with him to turn in the bounty. On Nevarro. You were confused, you refused even as he pleaded. You didn’t notice the needle he pulled out of his pouch as he tread closer to you.

No one was out. No one would have done anything even if they saw your unconscious body fall into his steady arms.

You woke up suddenly in a ship’s bunk. Afraid and disgruntled you sat up only to slump against cold metallic panels. The bunk door opened and revealed the Mandalorian, without his helmet and carrying a small green child.

Your head was full of cotton, you could barely move, you couldn't speak.

The child heaved out of his arms and stepped onto the cot in front of you. He gurgled as if saying hello. You stared in shock. The Mandalorian smiled at you warmly, pressing his palm to your cheek and trailing it to your stomach.

“Say hello to your mother, ad.”

[mandoloriancookie]

So mad.

I saw a new alpha Steve and bucky x reader. I came back to read it. I can't find it 😭 can anyone find it, tag me?

[mandoloriancookie]

smother, part xii

“Y’know, baby,” Joel starts solemnly. “Tomorrow is gonna change things.” His words are too vague, cryptic, and you just stare at him, swallowing hard as anxiety creeps in along your features, eyes filling with dread. “Do you understand what I mean?”

coming tomorrow! may 17th at 12:30pm pst! ✨

[mandoloriancookie]

This is going to be freaking amazing!

Rough Day (AFCR) Comic

Chapter 0: Part 1 "Other Talents"

💗PLEASE REBLOG TO SUPPORT! 💗

Rough Day original by @no-droids

RD Comic (Abridged for Christian Roomates) by @roughdaysandart

Well, this is the moment we've all been waiting for, sickos! I'm so proud of what Ive learned and been to accomplish these past few weeks (digital-art and writing in general), and have so much gratitude for all of the wonderful people who have followed along and encouraged me thus far. Most of all, thank you to the wonderful @no-droids for creating the fic in the first place. I cant wait to continue posting what's in store these next few (probably) years.

If you made it to the end, thanks so much for reading! I hope you'll consider checking out my homepage for updates, sneek peeks, my unofficial soundtrack I listen to for each character/theme, as well as my star wars mega-pinterest board! 💗

Next: CH 0 PT 2: "Rules and Habits"

Coming.....whenever its ready...in-person school is aboutta start and im going to pace myself and figure out how to balance going in person for the first time in a year...workin' and well...life, which includes this depravity and you all 💗!!!

Cheers, Sweet Girls.