#anyway yes i am insane and everything i touch turns to mandos
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playing as Ayala's sister Saya in Destiny was a galaxy brained idea
i've decided that she would repaint her armor to be Black and Gold and Red (Justice and Vengeance and Honoring a Parent) while still keeping a hint of blue to honor Ayala and her armor color :)
#the backstory is that Saya in D2 is an AU in which she escapes capture by Raandall at Ayala's pleading#and at some point during her escape she encounters an Ahamkara (whether she realizes it or not)#and makes a desperate off-handed wish that she had the ability to save Ayala and her clan from the empire#the Ahamkara grants her wish and teleports her to the Destiny side of the universe#she is now surrounded by people with superhuman strength and supernatural powers that could help her take on the Empire and free her clan#but the inevitable trade-off as with Ahamkara wishes is that she has no way to get back and no way to utilize these resources :)#oc: Saya Ger'Mana#destiny#cassie plays destiny 2#anyway yes i am insane and everything i touch turns to mandos#gosh it was quinn who gave me the idea for the Ahamkara wish wording: i grant your wish for sharper teeth O Warrior Mine#AU: Destiny Mandos#mando'ade
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release | din djarin x reader
A difficult hunt has Mando in a huff, and his crewmember knows just what he needs.
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2.9k words
mentions: mandoâs frustrated but not mean in the slightest, blowjobs, general musings on sex
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Some hunts are easier than othersâ thatâs one of the first things the Mandalorian told when you joined his crew. Youâd thought that was a fair answer to the question youâd ask, and it made a lot of sense at the time because of course bounties have levels like practically anything else. Some people are stupid, others are smart⊠ A simple bail jumperâs probably not going to be much of a challenge, but a spice smuggler or a member of an organized crime ring? That could be difficult.
Before this assignment, youâd thought you knew what a difficult hunt looked like. There was the pimp on Jakku that led Mando on a chase for three days in the dessert, the pair of bail-jumping brothers that ended up being very well-connected to some very scary spicemakers, and a few other quarries that stick out in your mind. But Mandoâs most recent missionâŠ
This whole thing was a clusterfuck from the start. Karga had called it a âspecial questâ when he offered up the puck, and youâd been right there at Mandoâs side when he asked for the price. The number that came out of Kargaâs mouth was absolutely insane, almost too good to be true.
There was a catch, of course. The quarry is a member of an alien species known for their samenessâ each being looks identical, no sex, no gender, no differentiating characteristics. To make a hard job even harder, the quarryâsâŠ. a bad person. Theyâre dangerous, armed to the teeth, and known to leave a lot of collateral damage in their wake. And theyâre rich. Unbelievably rich. The kind of rich that makes a person bulletproof, the kind of rich that lets a person disappear at will like they never existed in the first place.
Yet despite all of this, despite how difficult the task seemed, Mando accepted the puck anyway, and now youâre here in the Crest wondering what the fuck youâre going to do with him.
Four dead-end leads and three planets later, you think Mandoâs going to crack. He came back to the ship earlier in a huff, announcing that you, he, and the baby would be going to yet another location to track this person down. Quiet rage has been radiating off of him ever since, the anger Mando feels slipping out here and there in all the wrong ways. He was less patient with the Child earlier when he was putting him down to sleep, and Mandoâs tone was clipped when he declined your offer to make him something to eat. You try not to take any of his behavior personally, knowing good and well that Mandoâs running on empty. The stress of this hunt has been immense, and youâre not sure if heâs been sleeping or eating like he should during his days away. Knowing how Mando takes care of himself in the best of times, thoughâŠ
The man needs to relax, you think. He needs a good meal, something warm and filling, and a good nightâs sleep. Mando also needs to blow off steam, needs to fight or scream or fuckâ
You force yourself to clear that thought from your mind, even as you prepare yourself for what youâre about to do. Itâs gamble, to say the very leastâ this could cost you your job, your place next to the Mandalorian. You donât think you could stomach it, being sent away by this man that you care for, but something has to be doneâ about Mandoâs agitation and your feelings for him.
Drawing in a deep breath, you stand before the ladder the leads up the cockpit, gathering every bit of courage you have. âMando,â you call, hoping he wonât react too poorly to be disturbed right now. He went off hours ago, shutting himself away up there to âlook over some intel,â whatever the fuck that means.
âWhat?â
The word comes out short, but not angry, and you figure itâs fine to go on.
âCan I come up?â
Mando doesnât give you much in the way of an answer, but the noise he makes is affirmative enough. You climb up the ladder, the rungs cold on your bare feet, and then youâre there in the cockpit. Mandoâs just as tense as he was when he went up here in the first place, shoulders drawn taut, eyes trained on a hologram in front of him. It looks like some sort of map, though the lines and colors mean little to you.
âHowâs it going?â
He doesnât even turn his head. âFine.â
You watch Mando for a moment, nervous as you consider how to play this.
âDonât you think you should rest, Mando?â you ask, coming to stand beside the pilotâs chair. Heâs still hasnât looked at you, hasnât so much as glanced in your direction. âYou need to eat, and I think sleeping wouldââ
âIâm not tired,â Mando cuts, and it takes everything in you to bite back your frustration.
âYes, you are. Youâre exhausted, and probably hungry, and even the baby can sense it.â
You donât get a word of acknowledgement from the Mandalorian, not so much as a fucking syllable, and you finally slip just the slightest bit.
âMando,â you declare, tone firm and demanding, and finally, finally, you have his full attention.
âYes?â
Exasperation is clear in the Mandalorianâs voice, but heâs looking at you know, turning the pilotâs chair in your direction. One or two steps closer, and youâd be standing right between his legs, close enough to reach outâ
Focus.
âDonât talk to me like that,â you huff, hands on your hips. âYou know Iâm right. I know this quarryâs been hard to catch, but youâre starting to slip.â
Once again, Mando leaves you sitting in silence, though it would seem that some of the fightâs left his body. Carefully, you inch forward, and just the slightest thrill runs up your back when Mando opens his legs to make room for you.
âIâm worried about you,â you confess, voice softening. âI donât want you to wear yourself out.â
Mandoâs sigh is long and tired, but heâs out of energy to argue any further. âYouâre right,â he concedes. âIâ Maybe I am going a little too hard.â
âOf course Iâm right.â
You take no real pleasure in this, but you are glad to hear Mando admit that he needs to slow down. With that done, though, itâs time for you to be brave, perhaps braver than youâve ever been in your life.
âYou need to relax, Mando,â you say softly, reaching out to rub at his arm. The visor follows your every move, but Mando trains his eyes right on you when you murmur, âLet me help you.â
âHowâ What do you mean?â
Youâve got the Mandalorian stuttering, and something about that boosts your confidence to a dangerous level. It almost feels like itâs not you that sinks down onto the floor, dropping onto one knee and then the other between Mandoâs legs. Your fingers are on his belt for no more than a second before heâs reaching out, before heâs pushing your hands away and jolting in shock.
âWhoa, meshâla, thatâs notââ
âNecessary?â you cut, cocking your head. âI think that it is, Mando. You need to relax.â
âYeah, but I donâtâ Youâre not obligated toââ
âOf course Iâm not obligated. I want to do this, Mando. I want to take care of you.â
You settle on your knees and twist your hands out of Mandoâs gentle grasp, the leather of his gloves cool on your palms. His fists clench and unclench under your touch, anxious and fidgety, and you feel the need to pause for just a moment.
âMando,â you say softly, squeezing his hands, âI know what you need, and Iâm happy to give it to you. But if you donât want this, tell me now. Iâll go back down to the hull, you can go back to your map, and we never have to talk about it again.â
Mando hesitates, and you find yourself wondering if you this was a good idea.
âYou actually want to do this? Youâ To me?â
You nod. âI really do.â
Finally, after a few more seconds of tense silence, Mando lets himself relax. You feel it, the way the muscles in his thighs go slack under your arms, the rest of his body sagging back in the pilotâs chair. Eyes track your every movement as you unbuckle Mandoâs belt, though you see nothing but the blackness of the visor when you glance up. Heâs good help, shifting from side to side as you try to tug his pants down just the slightest bit, and then thereâs nothing left for you to do but start.
The moment you lean down to kiss the head of Mandoâs cock, youâre blindsided by just how much you missed this. Itâs been so long since you had sex with another person, so long since you felt the weight of a man on your tongue in this way. And the smell, Maker, the smell⊠You get lost in what youâre doing, focused on nothing but the feel of Mandoâs cock in your mouth and the throbbing between your thighs. So lost, in fact, that it takes you about ten seconds too long to realize that youâre being touched.
Sometime between you undoing his belt and this very moment, Mando took off his gloves and threaded his fingers in your hair. He doesnât pull or push or so much as try to control what youâre doing, but thereâs a pressure there, a warmth. It would be inconsequential if Mando were someone else, the fact that his hand is bare against your scalp, but he isnât. Such a simple gesture, and yetâŠ
You sit back on your heels and catch your breath, one hand stroking Mandoâs cock at a steady, even pace. A noise indicative of something not unlike despair slips out of the modulator that same instance, so quick and so quiet that itâs almost lost in the static, and not for the first time do you find yourself cursing the fucking helmet. You ache to see Mandoâs face, you ache to see his whole fucking bodyâŠ
âAre you feeling better?â you purr, mouth slick with drool as you talk. Youâre not sure Mando likes you all sloppy and ruined like this, but you think itâs safe to go out on a limb just this once.
âYes,â Mando grits, body shuddering when you lean down to kiss his cock. You take private pleasure in that, thrilled by the notion that a person like you could affect a person like him in such a way.
âWould you feel even better if you came down my throat? Or do you want to see it on my face instead?â
Mando keens, and you feel all-powerful.
âIn your mouth,â Mando answers, fingers coming up to stroke your cheek. He sounds shaky, and you let up on his cock just the slightest bit. âI donâtâ You donât deserve to have someone make a mess of you.â
âI donât mind a mess,â you say, because you donât, not if Mandoâs the one fucking you up. âMaybe next time I suck you off Iâll let you cum on my tits. Iââ
âNow youâre just fucking with me,â he groans, squirming in his chair like he canât help it.
âIâm not,â you purr, âI promise you Iâm not. You can do anything you want to me, Mando, I mean that. Iâll lie there and take itââ
âMaker, your fucking mouth,â Mando cuts, breath ragged. âIf you keep fucking talking, Iâllââ
He never gets to finish the sentence, words crumbling into nothing as you abandon your little game. You suck him off in earnest, using your tongue, paying special attention the places that make him jerk in his seat when you so much as breathe on them. It doesnât take him long to fall apart, and you try your best to take it all, swallowing obediently like the taste is nothing to you. And how could you care about something as inconsequential as of the flavor of Mandoâs cum when his cock is pulsing in your mouth, when heâs groaning and fisting his hand in your hairâŠ
Listening to Mando cum, feeling him cum makes you drunk off arousal, but you force yourself to tamp down the feeling. Heâd fuck you if you asked, rub your clit and let you clench on his fingers until you came at the very least, but this just⊠isnât about you. No, this was something for Mando, a way for you to help him calm down, and you donât want to ruin whatever peace heâs found by making demands. Youâll get yours soon, if youâre patient, and thatâs more than okay right now.
Mando seems tired when you finally pull off of him for good, body sagging under his armor like simply holding himself upright would be a chore. You feel shy under his gaze, all your confidence and bravery slipping further and further away by the second. This was something youâd neglected to think about when you formed this plan in your mind, the after. Sucking Mando off and making him feel better is all well and good, but you still have to look at him, still have to go to sleep tonight and wake up in the morning knowing this happened. Knowing that he knows this happenedâŠ
Slowly, ever so slowly, Mando musters up a bit of strength, pulling up his pants and doing up the fly as you watch from your place on the floor. Youâre half expecting to be dismissed when heâs done, and thatâs why itâs such a shock when Mando leans forward to hold your face in his hands.
âCome here,â he says softly, and you donât have to be told twice.
Your legs burn when you stand up, and your knees ache from kneeling like you did. None of that matters though, not when Mando sits you on his thighs and wraps his arms around your body. Youâre facing him, legs dangling just above the floor on either side of his. The beskar is cold and hard against your skin, but Mandoâs hands are warm, the expanse his palm soothing down the plane of your back. Up and down, up and down, up and down the heat travels, breathing life into something delicate and raw inside your chest. You thread your arms around Mandoâs neck after a few minutes, glad that heâs still not talking. Something about his affection has you choking up, and youâd rather die than give yourself away. Itâs the silence, you think, the way he says so much without speaking a word.
âThank you.â
The words come out in a staticky whisper, the sound of them crackling in your ear. And though it pains you to do so, you sit up and look at Mando properly, missing the warmth of his neck the minute itâs gone.
âIt was⊠You donât have to thank me,â you say softly, fiddling with the collar of Mandoâs shirt. You wonder where his cape is and why he took it off in the first place, though youâre not exactly sad to see it go. âAre you hungry? I made you a plate earlier even though you said you didnât want to eat. Itâs still good if you want it.â
âI do have to thank you,â Mando insists, holding your chin in his fingers. âYou take good care of me, cyarâika.â
Cheeks hot, you refuse to meet his eyes. âWell, itâs not like you donât deserve it.â
You want to ask him what those names mean, the one he called you just now and the one he blurted out earlier when he tried to stop you. But you think it might ruin the mood, and so you swallow the question like you swallowed the lump in your throat a few minutes ago.
âIf you go lie down in my bed,â Mando says slowly, one hand trailing down, down, down your shivering back, âIâll take good care of you too.â
And though the very idea of what that could mean has you ready to run down the ladder as fast as you can, you shake your head.
âI just want to go to sleep, Mando,â you tell him, âIâm tired. And I know you are too.â
Mandoâs going to protest, heâs going to insist he pay you back, this much is made clear by the way his hands tighten around your hips. But you cut him off before his tongue can so much as form the words, pressing your chest against his, rolling your hipsâŠ
âBut when you catch the quarry, weâll do whatever you want. I said you could do anything to me, remember?â
The Mandalorianâs breath hitches, and you know then that you have him.
âThis was a release,â you explain, ducking your head to press you lips to whatever skin you can. The helmet does a good job of concealing his jaw, but not every bit of his neck is hidden away. âThat will be a celebration.â
Mando huffs through the modulator, though you think his discontent is all for show.
âFine,â he concedes, âbut you better be waiting for me in that fucking bed when I get back.â
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