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lincolndjarin · 1 year ago

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Bound in Beskar

From the world of Best Kept Secret...

A down on her luck traveler finds employment with a gruff Mandalorian. He's quiet and reserved, she's resourceful and quick witted, and things are heating up in the forge... one can only imagine what happens in this tale of lust and steel.

Some of you may recall our dear princess!reader in bks reading a book in chapter 20, this is that. Vaguely in the style of those campy romance novels that you read in the bathtub with candles and wine.

warnings : armorer!mando, no use of y/n, reader is not described past the fact that she is manhandled and carried by mando, smut, unapologetic porn with a little plot, i use the phrase 'throbbing member' just once i promise it's ironic please believe me guys, spanking, pussy slapping, dom/sub undertones, sir kink, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, humiliation, p in v sex, inappropriate use of blacksmithing abilities, ro makes things up about blacksmithing, bondage, use of restraints, briefly mentioned ass play, inappropriate use of a hammer, size kink, sweet rough sex, power imbalance (mando is readers boss, but both parties are consenting), definitely a few things i missed my apologies, barely beta read i was in a rush sorry!!

word count : 3.8k

a/n : this is so bad but also like i love it LMAO like i promise it's supposed to be kind of bad guys you have to believe me lmaoooo. this was really fun to do omfg this is my magnum opus in the worst way possible

You don’t know his name.

There wasn’t even an interview. You’d come knocking on his door when you saw the sign in town on the news bulletin board. You’d shown up with everything you owned in the canvas bag on your hip as you knocked on the large brass door. The house didn’t look like a shop, it just looked like a house, a large house, when he finally opened the door you could see why. Just beyond his hulking figure you can see his work space, the majority of the building is devoted to just one room, high ceilings and brick walls surround the enormous forge.

“I saw your flier for a live-in housekeeper, is the position still available?” You’re so sick of sleeping in alley ways and rooftops, you’d do nearly anything for adequate lodging.

He had examined you, the cold, unfeeling steel of his visor scanning up and down your body until he nodded.

“You can clean?” The low, controlled voice drips through the modulator making your blood run hot.

“Yes, and cook.” You hold your hand out to him, he only nods in response as you tell him your name.

“You start now.” Is all you get as he motions for you to step inside.

So yeah.

You don’t know his name and he never tells you.

So you just call him sir.

The room is nicer than any you’ve ever had. A little space at the top of the stairs, a soft worn out mattress and a desk with a crooked stool. You take it with a grin, you can’t remember the last time you slept somewhere warm.

You set your things down as he instructs you to follow him back downstairs. He shows you around, although there isn’t much to see. The main room is large with an open ceiling for the smoke, an ornate forge takes up the center, the fires crackle from within as he leads you to a small kitchen.

The first thing you note is how barren it is. One skillet hangs from a hook and as you search through the drawers most of them are empty.

“I will give you extra credits this week for supplies.” He sounds almost embarrassed as he ushers you out of the room towards his own. “Once a week I’ll need you to tidy up here and do the laundry, it is of the utmost importance to me that you knock when you do.”

“Of course.” You nod slowly and he puts his hands on his hips. There’s a moment of silence before he turns and returns to his work without another word.

You are to cook his meals, buy the groceries, clean the house, and stay out of his way. In exchange he provides housing and a salary of two hundred and fifty credits a week along with any change from the grocery money he gives you.

You almost want to ask how no one else applied to such a generous job offer but the quiet foreboding presence of your employer makes it obvious enough. It wouldn’t surprise you if people feared him, you’re certainly a bit jumpy around him. He’s just so… big. He takes up so much space, stomping around the shop all day as you take care to stay out of his path, cleaning up the messes he leaves behind.

You stay extremely vigilant, opportunities like this do not often arise for you so you give him no reasons to question your performance.

You go to the markets, bundled up in your cloak once a week to keep the kitchen stocked. You wake before him to prepare his breakfast, you tidy up the forge before he opens the shop to make it presentable. You cook, you clean, you repeat. When there is no work to be done he dismisses you, telling you to make yourself busy elsewhere and you always do. Taking walks or retreating to your own quarters.

You do this for quite some time.

He doesn’t necessarily soften up towards you but he seemingly grows to tolerate you more.

You try different things, baking, knitting, painting and anything else you can get your hands on but no hobby ever seems to stick so eventually you take to watching him work. Sitting at the top of the stairs, dangling your legs over the railing as he hammers the smoldering metals. He’s an artist really, the quick precision of his strikes with the hammer, bending steel to his will to craft the custom fitted pieces. It makes you wonder why his own armor looks so worn down when he clearly has a gift. Everything but his helmet is worn down, scratched up dark metals that he often tosses aside when he works late into the night.

After long days of work when the shop is closed he’ll toss aside his chestplate and pauldrons, opting to remain only in his helmet as he rolls up his sleeves revealing the warm tan skin beneath. You always feel as though you can’t breathe right when he does this. His strong, toned arms, littered with burn scars from years of work.

You can’t deny his appeal.

Even without the armor he is huge. The wide expanse of his shoulders that smooth down into a narrow waist. You don’t even need to wonder about what’s going on under the helmet because everything else is just so much. Those hands, that neck, his chest, you’re practically drooling when you watch him work late into the night, sitting at the top of the stairs, clutching a steaming mug of caf as you squeeze your thighs together. You spend most nights with your hand between your legs thinking about your employer.

It isn’t a bad life, it’s repetitive but it’s happy and safe which is more than you’ve ever had before. The Mandalorian treats you well, sometimes he speaks to you outside of orders, sometimes over dinner he asks you how your day was. You even have enough money to start a savings box.

Nothing changes and you’re fine with that.

Until one night when he’s working late, working on something smaller and detailed. You had started to tidy up around him, already in your pajamas as you padded around the forge in your nightshirt and shorts. You were sweeping when it happened.

“Kriff-” You slip on a scrap of fabric, you grab onto the ledge of the forge, trying to catch yourself. Your breath catches in your throat as you knock a hammer off of the stone, nearly falling face first into the molten metal.

You don’t even have time to scream as the wind is knocked out of you and you’re sharply yanked backwards away from the heat.

“Do you have a death wish?” It’s the most emotion you’ve ever heard from him, anger that threatens to spill out of his helmet. “If you fall face first into that you’d be dead in an instant.” He hisses out, hands now shaking your shoulders.

“I- I’m sorry, it was an accident.” Your face gets hot with shame as the veins in his neck pulse. “Please don’t fire me.” You whisper, fear of losing everything you’ve worked for over one simple mistake.

He sighs.

“I’m not going to fire you, I’m just going to discipline you.”

“Discipli-” You start to question him but he sits down on the anvil, motioning you forward with two fingers before patting his lap. Your eyes go wide at the implication.

“Tell me to stop and you can go back upstairs, it won’t affect your job." He whispers earnestly.

You don’t want him to stop.

So you go to sit in his lap but he clicks his tongue under his helmet.

“On your stomach.” His voice is lower than before as you swallow loudly, bending yourself over his knee, hiding your face in your hands. Your ass is on display for him under the short sleep shirt you wear. “How many do you think you need to learn your lesson?”

“How many what, sir?”

“How many spanks.”

Oh.

You pray to the Maker that you aren’t soaking through your shorts right now.

“Umm… fifteen?” You aren’t exactly experienced in the subject but you don’t want to pick a number too low.

“Fifteen? Look at you my little over achiever, you must truly be sorry.” He muses with an amusement you’ve never heard from him. His large palm massages the globes of your ass, you’re so painfully turned on at this point you’re honestly a little worried you’re gonna come the second he starts. “And can you tell me why you’re being punished?”

“B-because I knocked over your hammer?” You stammer out and you feel a sharp sting as he pinches your ass.

“No, you sweet thing.” He bunches up your top a bit higher as he simultaneously yanks down your shorts pulling a yelp from you, he definitely knows you’re wet now. “It’s because you weren’t being careful, you weren’t focused on what you were doing and you almost got hurt.”

“No, I was focused I promise-”

“But you weren’t. You were sitting up there watching me, getting yourself all worked up and by the time you got down here you were so horny you got distracted and almost got yourself killed. What would I do without my pretty little housekeeper?” You’re speechless for several reasons. He knows why you watch him? He knows how much it turns you on?

He called you pretty.

And his.

“Tell me why you’re being punished?” He repeats as you clear your throat.

“Because I wasn’t paying attention.” You mumble.

“I want the exact answer.”

You’re so embarrassed you could just die but something about the shame makes your blood run hot as you rub your thighs together rather obviously, earning a chuckle from your companion.

“Because I was so worked up from watching you and I was distracted, and I almost got hurt.” You whisper, hearing a pleased hum from him.

“That’s my smart girl. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Yes…?”

“Yes, sir.” You quickly correct yourself before bracing yourself for the first smack.

One.

You’re surprised by the softness of the smack. It’s more like a pat against your rear.

“Still good?”

“Yes sir.”

Two.

You squeak a bit, this one being significantly harsher than the first, before you’re prepared he’s back on you.

Three, four, five, six.

You’re making a sound that’s a mix between a moan and a squeal as his bare palms come in contact with your ass in four consecutive sharp spanks. He rubs his hands over the flesh that you’re certain is already welted and swollen. The next spanks come long before you’re ready.

Seven, eight, nine, ten.

Tears sting your eyes as he lays into you as if you’re beskar steel that he can bend to his will.

“Look at that.” He remarks with a sense of accomplishment as you let out a soft whimper. You feel his finger gliding along your thighs and up your seam making you shudder before he holds his glistening digits in front of your face. “Are you enjoying yourself, sweet thing?” You nod with a small hum, praying he’ll just touch you already but you aren’t so lucky as you feel a slap against your pussy (Eleven.) that has you whining, loud and high pitched as you clench around nothing.

Twelve.

Another slap to your cunt, you can feel your clit twitching as a groan is punched out of you.

“Gods, are you gonna come like this?” He sounds terribly amused as your body tenses.

Thirteen.

He spreads you wide open, giving your clit a little tap that has you lurching forward in his lap.

“Come on, you can do it.” The condescending tone only makes you want to please him more, you want it so bad as he ghosts a finger across your dripping hole.

Fourteen, fifteen.

On the final slap his hand stays pressed against your mound, applying just enough pressure to throw you over that edge. You’ve never come quite like this, nearly wailing as tears now flow freely as your body turns to putty in his lap. He has melted you down and made you something new.

He lets you work through it for a while, rubbing your back until you come back to your senses. He lifts you from his lap, your legs wobble and shake as he stands you up.

“I gotcha.” He murmured as he picked you up bridal style, carrying you up the stairs before laying you down in bed. “You did so good, such a good girl for me.” He whispered as you closed your eyes, absolutely exhausted. You felt the blankets pulled up over you before you drifted off.

You swore you felt something press against your forehead.

When you wake for the first time since you started working for him, breakfast is already made. A plate of bread and meat sits on your desk along with a glass of water. Your ass is raw but other than that you feel more than fine. You aren’t sure what to expect when you go downstairs but it certainly isn’t the silence you're met with.

It’s as if nothing happened at all.

He doesn’t even acknowledge you as you frown, attending to your daily tasks.

He barely even looks at you.

You go to bed that night frustrated and upset.

So you come up with a plan to get his attention.

You mess up in every way possible.

You ‘forget’ to make his breakfast. You leave metal scraps on the floor. And you go to bed early, hoping he’ll come upstairs and punish you for your mistakes but he never does. You ignore your duties for a full week before you finally snap at him while he’s locking up.

“Do I have to throw myself into the forge again to get your attention?” You finally snap at him.

“Excuse me?” He turns to face you, holding his tongs in hand.

“I have been a terrible housekeeper for days and you haven’t so much as scolded me!” You throw your hands up in exasperation as he shakes his head.

“Is that what this is about? My forge is a mess because I haven’t been giving you enough attention?” He tilts his head to the side and you actually feel a bit guilty, when he puts it like that you seem rather petulant. You nod, feeling rather ashamed. He points at the anvil. “Lay down. Now.” You waste no time, rushing over and laying down on your stomach across the large steel surface, his large hands pin you down in place as he takes position behind you, clearly fuming and clearly hard as his hips meet your ass.

It’s a harrowing juxtaposition, how careful yet rough he is with you as his hand holds you by the back of your neck, pressing you into the cold metal of the anvil. You’re practically giddy with anticipation as you feel a faint heat on your wrists as they’re yanked behind your back. There’s a sizzling sound and you register a metal wrapped around your wrists, arousal and fear course through you as you feel a nearly painful heat that has you trying to look over your shoulder. He pushes back harder on your neck.

“Don’t move.” He grumbles as you go still. When he finally takes a step back you turn to look at what he’s done only to find your wrists shackled behind your back, they aren’t just locked in place.

He’s welded them together.

“You want my attention so badly? Then you’re gonna get it.” He yanks down everything below your waist, your tights bunching at your ankles as he pulls your skirt up to your hips. “You’re a terrible housekeeper, maybe I should find another use for you.” He kneels behind you, spreading you wide open with his hands, the cool air from the skylight chills your soaking folds. His fingers poke at you as if he’s examining you. You’re grinning as you wait for him to finally touch you in earnest but instead you feel cold steel pressing into you. You flinch away from the sensation but he holds you in place.

“Sir- please-” You whine but all that gets you is a slap on the ass as he pushes the object in deeper. You groan, it isn’t all that thick but Maker it’s long, brushing up against spots inside of you you’re certain you’ve never reached before until the base of it bumps against your clit, the heavy weight shifting inside of you as it clicks.

He put his fucking hammer inside you.

“Maybe I can use you to hold my tools.” He remarks as he stands. “Would you like that? If I kept you around to hold my things?” He walks over to kneel in front of you now, tapping your face with his fingers. “This is a lesson, you know.”

“What lesson?” Your voice is more strained than you expected.

““That if you want something, you need to ask for it.” He whispers through the modulator as you nod.

“Please.” You whimper.

“Please, what?”

“Please, I want you to touch me.” You sway your hips as best you can like this as he runs his fingers across your cheek.

“Like this?” Bastard.

“I want you to fuck me.” No point beating around the bush. “Sir.” You add on a beat later, hoping to encourage him.

“That’s all you needed to say.” He stands back up and you groan as he yanks the tool out of you, running his fingers through your wetness as you hear the rustling of fabric and zippers before something thick and soft swipes through your folds. As he sinks himself into you at last one of his hands grips the meat of your hips so hard you’re certain it’ll bruise. The other holds the metal linking your cuffs as he pulls you back onto him, impaling you on his cock at a distressingly slow pace.

Ask for it.

“Please sir- I need you- I need you to fill me up.”

“Such a polite girl.” You can hear his grin as he slams forward. Your hips are flush now as he thrusts his throbbing member into your soaking heat. “Such a- sweet cunt.” He groans as you slump forward, the size of him knocks the wind out of you as he splits you open. His cock stretches you open wider than ever before as he immediately takes on a punishing pace.

Your body is on fire, your nerves igniting as he pounds into you. The hand on your hip moves lower, circling your clit sending another jolt of fire through your veins as you barrel towards an unavoidable orgasm.

You cry out as he angles his hips to hit that spot inside of you and all too quickly you tumble over that edge, strangling his cock within you as you spasm wildly. Your eyes flutter shut as you soak him.

He doesn’t let up for a second.

“Gonna give you enough attention to keep you content for a few days.” He spits out through grit teeth, already pushing you towards another climax your body isn’t at all ready for.

“So fucking needy. Maybe I should make some toys for you to play with while I’m working.” He grumbles, you feel his thumb prodding at your other entrance as you gasp. “Could make you something real pretty to put in here.” You nod furiously as he laughs, rocking his hips forward again. It’s a good thing you’re being held up by the anvil because your legs go limp underneath you as you come again. He pinches your clit, nowhere near hard enough to hurt but enough to make you sob as your eyes go wet from the overstimulation of everything that’s happening. “Think you can give me one more?” The dominating condescending tone is gone as he leans down, his helmet knocking against your spine as if he’s kissing you there.

“I- I don’t know.” You manage to whisper out as he slows his brutal pace, an act of mercy to your puffy, sensitive cunt.

“Do you wanna try?” His voice is sweet now as he stills inside of you. Keyword there is try. Your skin tingles in a way that is nearly painful as you nod.

“Yes sir.” You turn your head to the side, resting the hot skin on the cold steel.

“That’s my girl.” He murmurs, starting a new pace, a gentler one as he pushes the blunt head of his cock against your cervix, pulling a drawn out whine from your chest. “That’s it, just a little more, such a good girl, so good for me.” He begins to ramble as his thrusts grow a little erratic and sloppy, his fingers tensing against your hips as he stumbles forward, his entire body flush with yours as he empties himself into you. You can feel the warmth leaking between the two of you as you’re hit with an entirely new sensation that makes you come one last time. Your vision goes entirely white now as tears wash down your face. He steadies you, holding you through it and whispering more praises that don’t entirely register before he carefully pulls out of you. Your eyes remain shut as he carefully takes your wrists, after a moment they’re back at your side as he puts you back together. Pulling up your panties and tights, keeping his cum inside of you in the process as he lays you on your back, eventually sitting you up. “Are you okay?”

You grin.

“Yes, sir.” He chuckles, leaning forward just enough to tap his helmet against yours for a moment. You look down at your wrists where the metal bands remain.

“I made them for you, they aren’t always shackles, they're pretty when they aren’t stuck together.” You bring them up to your face, getting a closer look at the intricate details. There’s a small mythosaur embossed on each one. A symbol, something that binds you to him.

“I love it.” You smile up at him, looking around the still dirty shop. “I should probably catch up on my work…” You start to stand but he sits you back down.

“Take the day off, worry about it tomorrow.” He walks past you, you turn to watch him throw more kindling into the forge.

“What are you gonna do with the rest of your day?” You tilt your head, watching as he takes the hammer that was inside you only moments ago and spins it in his hand.

“I believe I owe you a couple of toys.” He tosses a handful of steel into the hearth as you sit back a bit and watch him start to work.

a/n : this was ridiculous but also i did take it very seriously. this genre was what i was unapologetically born to write.

if you liked this and aren't familiar with my work this is a one off from my mandalorian series Best Kept Secret, which you can find here!!

I don't have taglists but follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates on any and all fics!!

#lincolndjarin #fic : best kept secret #one shot #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian smut #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin

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episodes-ff · 2 months ago

Text

Perfect In Every Way

**TWO MONTHS LATER**

Diamonté

"Armando Aretas, Jr. so help me God, if I don't see you cleaning up this mess in the next couple minutes?!" "But mommy!" He whined throwing himself into a tantrum as I rubbed my temples and tried to suppress the gnawing, sickeningly familiar feeling to throw up my entire lunch, what little of it I had anyway. "Papi, you have to clean up! This is unacceptable, baby." I soothed out watching him frown and cry as I tried hard not to mirror his actions. "Please?" "Nooooooo, I don't want to! I wanna play, Mommy!" He pleaded flopping around as he continued to cry, whine, and beg. "You can’t pull out all your toys at the same time, you have to clean these up first." "No!" He shouted as my eyes nearly jumped out of my head. "Excuse you?! And just who are you raising your voice at?" I yelled as he looked on in fear before we heard the jingling of keys. "Daddyyyyyyyy!" He praised running downstairs to the door as I rolled my eyes.

I thought things would get easier once I told Armando about the baby, but they've been anything but. I've been sick nonstop, I can't hold down any food, the little bit that I eat anyway, my body is constantly aching, and I'm always tired and crying. I thought Papi would be helpful with this transition, but he's having a hard time adjusting to the fact that he's not my only baby anymore, so he's been acting out as a result leaving me to be the villian while Armando is the family Superman. Sighing as I heard his sweet and spoiled giggles, I weakly tried to clean up the toys before hearing Armando's heavy footsteps and his soothing voice.

"Baby, what are you doing? No heavy lifting remember?" "Tell that to your prince who refuses to clean." I spat rolling my eyes as I refused to meet his gaze. "That true, papito?" "But Daddy, I don't wanna put all my toys up. I'm not done playing with them yet." AJ pleaded sweetly as he put on his puppy dog eyes to appease his father. "But nothing, AJ, you have to listen to your mother, ok?" "But-" "No more buts, mister. Clean your toys, please? And listen to your mother. I won't tolerate any misbehavior towards her, you hear me?" "Yes, sir." He sniffled as he put him down. Coming over to grab the toys from my hands, I tried to rub his tiny shoulder but was met with anguish as he shifted from me with a groan of discontent. Not being able to control my sorrow, I frowned and ran off to the room as Armando called for me. "Baby, he didn't mean it!"

Running into the bedroom closet, I hunched over the vanity as the dam of tears I had been holding back finally burst. "Baby?" "I'm fine, Armando." "No you're not, Dee. C'mere, bebita." Following his orders, I finally met his eyes before breaking down as he pulled me close. "Let it out, baby, I'm right here." He soothed in my ear as he held me and rubbed my body. "He hates me, Mando." "He does not hate you. What makes you think of such a thing, mi viva?" "He's been acting so different toward me since we told him about the baby. He won't look at me, he's always acting up, he won't even listen to me anymore. You're the super dad and I'm just this evil monster to him. He really hates me, bae." I sobbed in a rush of thoughts against his chest as he shushed me. "I think his feelings are just sour right now about our new bundle. He just has to adjust, ok? That's all. I'll talk to him about his behavior too because I don't like what I'm seeing either. Everything will be ok, baby, I promise you I'm gonna make it right." Nodding, I sighed as he lifted up my chin to stare at me and wipe my face. "I'm sorry." "What are you apologizing for, baby? You're carrying the third love of my life. The only thing I want you to do is relax, ok? As a matter of fact, I have just the thing. Remind me to call Marcus later and thank him." He smiled as I looked on confused. "What do you have up your sleeves, Armando?" "Leave that up to me, woman."

**ONE WEEK LATER**

"Babyyyyy, stop that tickles!" I squealed as he licked and sucked on my neck. "I can't help it, you look so fucking beautiful, baby." He groaned rubbing his hard girth against my backside as I attempted to do my makeup. "Fuuuuuck, just let me put it in real quick, mamas." He hissed slipping past my cover up and rubbing my ass through the cloth of my bikini. "Baby, we're supposed to be going out and exploring! I wanna make the most of this vacation." I whimpered turning in his arms to wrap my hands around his neck. "We will, baby. We'll get to see as much of the Bahamas as we can, but for right now, take this off for me." He lusted pulling me closer and kissing me while gripping my ass in his rough hands.

****

Walking my pedicured and sandal covered feet along the cobblestones, I smiled as Armando led me through the island streets, a sexy mug of protective energy painting his handsome features. "You so mean, baby." I teased rubbing his arm gently as his shades helped finish the bad boy look he had going. "What did I do?" "You didn't have to cuss out the tour guide, papa." "He shouldn't have been looking at what's mine." He griped, making me blush as he checked our surroundings and we continued our afternoon walk. "He could never ever have me. Trust. Can I at least get a smile, Daddy?" Sighing, he looked over and gave me that gentle and sweet grin of his. "Ouuuu, you so handsome! Hold up, I gotta get a picture." "Really, baby?" "Yes! Hold up right here, lemme capture this, papa." Chuckling at my silliness, he tucked his hands in his pockets before giving me his best smile as I blushed.

@diamondgirl_dee: My husband, my life🩵💍 #thatsmerightthere #cantnobodylovethatmanlikeilovethatman #sofine #bitchifightsonottoomuch

Armando

Watching her smile in what feels like forever has been such a blessing for me. I'm forever grateful to Marcus for letting me get his tickets to the Bahamas so Dee could get some rest and pampering. Mamas has been going through it with this pregnancy and it's been crushing my soul to see her suffering. I also asked Rita if it would be okay for me to switch to desk duty for the remainder of her pregnancy so I could be home more and she graciously accepted, so I've been helping out a lot more around the house and with Papi. We've been correcting his behavior as well because I was livid when I heard the extent of his actions recently and I wasn't about to put up with the disrespect toward my lady. He's been progressing a lot more with me around to keep that lil ass in check and I know she appreciated me stepping up more in the home without having to express it.

Watching her dance around in my shades and jersey, I smirked capturing a video of her as she sexily sauntered around the yacht as we cruised the clear waters. "You like my moves, baby?" "I love it, mamita. Bring that sexy ass here." I smiled as she twerked her way over and wound her thick hips on my lap. Hugging her body to me, I nibbled on her ear caressing her soft bump as she moaned. "I'm so lucky to have you, princesa." "No, I'd say I'm the lucky one. Thank you so much for this." She simpered tearing up as I turned her around in my lap and massaged the pads of her ass.

****

Carrying her into the bedroom, I sat on the bed and smiled as she giggled sweetly. Kissing all over her smooth skin, I bit her lip as she moaned grinding her hips against me writhing with the friction we were creating. "You're so pretty carrying my seed, baby. Thank you so much for making me a papa, mi corazón." Trying to hide her tears, she nodded and kissed me. "Hey, look at me. Stop doubting yourself, Dee, you're doing an amazing job. I'm so proud of the woman you've become and the mother you are to our kids. You do wonders with AJ and I know this baby is going to be so lucky to have you." I cooed rubbing her stomach as she stared at me in awe crying while I professed my love and unending gratitude. "You're everything to me in this world and I'm gonna do a better job of showing you from now on." Nodding, she leaned in and kissed me passionately.

Watching her sleep peacefully after our love making session, I admired all her features old and new from the pregnancy as I smiled and thanked God. Reaching over, I softly rubbed her small bump trapped in fascination before feeling a little flutter of movement. "D-Did you just move for me, little angel?" I shockingly recalled as a tear formed and slowly fell down my cheek. Smiling at the tiny victory, I kissed her beautiful, slumbered lips before taking out my phone to document the moment. Searching through my pictures at all the new moments I captured on vacation, I decided to upload them to Instagram. I don't know why I even made one because I don't like broadcasting my life, but Dee convinced me to do it so why not have her as my first post.

@mando_: Perfect in every fucking way🍊🥥🩵 #mywife #dontfuckingplaywithher #AllMINE

Unbeknownst to my future bride, I've been working on a special gift for her that includes memories from this pregnancy. I'm not really good at expressing how I feel and shit, but with Dee it's like breathing air so I wanted to further show her how much she means to me with this gift. I just hope she loves it cause I owe the AMMO squad a lot for helping me with it.

Tags: @violetmuses @kaylaahisthebestest- @theereina @believeinthefireflies95 @brisunique @madxlov3 @casualsludgeshoetoad @mauvecherie-writes @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @kumkaniudaku @geneziesm @megamindsecretlair @simpledopeme @goldenjasssy @vivaalenaa @playgurlxoxo @ghettogirly @luuvprincess @perfectlyimperfectme @tbmotw @comfortzonequeen @melanin-honeyy @strawberrymoon45 @luckygirlszn @kindofaintrovert @secretlifeoofmarpessa @cmbmjbfan @summwerella @qdancer22 @ihateyallniggas @rebelrel0987 @cheracherachera @bhristpher @cocooned-butterfly @ovohanna24 @theblessedcap @deijalee @ranikyani @catha2003 @magik22 @sweettea-and-honeybutter @pinkbuzzlightyrrr @justicefordeanthomas @liv10002 @kalideshawnwrites @j0joworld @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @ladynotdiana @mymindisneverhere @brattyfics

#episodes-ff #fanfiction #saweetie #jacob scipio #armando aretas #hasta el fuego #SoundCloud

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pedroshotwifey · 1 year ago

Text

Lesson

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Tags/Warnings: NO use of Y/N, dom!reader, sub!din djarin, extreme over-stimulation, pregnant reader (not mentioned until the end), reader is a badass and we love her, restraints, aftercare, fluffy fluff, slight bdsm, Din whimpers bc I want to see Din whimper, im sure im forgetting stuff but oh well

Summary: Din chooses to put himself in danger by changing plans during a mission, and you decide it's about time he learns a lesson.

A/N: Hello lovely people! Hope you enjoy some subby Din for a while. I don't really have much to say this time, so just ignore my rambling I suppose. As always, requests are wide open and reposts, comments, and likes are very much appreciated! <3

***

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

You’re absolutely furious. In all the years that you’ve been with Mando, he’s never made a mistake this detrimental. Not only did he almost lose the bounty with his random change of plan, but he also put himself right into the path of danger. This shouldn’t have been a dangerous mission, but somehow, Din found a way to make it life-threatening.

The bounty the two of you were after had been hiding out in an old, abandoned ship on an old, abandoned planet. The main objective was to get the target outside of the ship to capture him in case there was any kind of fuel left in the corroding ship.

You thought you were both stationed in your respective positions, the bait set to lead the bounty out, when you had noticed something was missing. Din. Din was missing. You curse under your breath as you stand up to get a better look at his empty post. Fucking bastard.

You spot a gleam of beskar in your peripheral and turn to follow it. He’s too far away from you for you to yell at him or try to grab him, practically at the opening at the ship already. There's nothing for you to do but wait and see how everything plays out. You groan as you crouch back down behind the rock you had been hiding behind.

Then you hear a deafeningly loud bang.

Your heart drops to your stomach as you shoot back up to your feet.

“MANDO!” You hear yourself scream his name but you don’t remember making an attempt to do so.

You immediately know what had happened as you get closer to the ruined ship. The first thing you see is the absolute wreckage laying around where the ship used to be, some of it still smoldering. The second thing you see is fucking Mando emerging from the smoke, target in hand.

His armor is coated in a black film, likely from being so close to the tank when he fucking shot it and blew it up. You stand in place and let him walk to you, keeping a firm expression the entire time. You can tell the moment he sees the way you’re seething. His movement falters and he lowers his head ever so slightly, continuing toward you with his tail tucked.

You wait until he is a few feet away from you before turning on your heel and starting the way back to the Crest. You know he’ll follow, so you don’t look back or say a word until you reach your shared ship.

When you climb aboard, you wordlessly signal for Mando to put the bounty in carbonite before you climb up to get the ship into the air. Once you’re out of the atmosphere, you climb back down the ladder to find Mando standing in the middle of the hull.

He doesn’t say a word to you, just stands there awaiting your orders. Smart. You point to the bedroom and wait for him to start walking before you trail behind him, still fuming. He stops in front of the bed and watches you walk past him and into the closet. You throw a single word his way as you start digging for the restraints.

“Strip.”

He shudders at your tone but does as he’s told.

***

“Please, Cyar’ika, please!”

The sob that slips from his mouth is delicious even though it’s a bit muffled by his vocoder. You chuckle darkly as you look down at him, The Mandalorian, clad in nothing but his helm and the binders around his wrists and ankles that secure him to the corners of the bunk.

His cock, throbbingly hard and flushed almost purple at the tip, jumps as you speak. The twitch is overstimulating enough to have his whole body try to curl into itself, but it doesn’t budge with the way he’s binded.

“Aww, you poor, sweet boy,” you say with a mock sympathy as you fold your hand to rub your knuckles along the inside of his thigh. “Want to come so bad, don’t you?”

You both know the answer to that question. You’ve been going at this for hours now. You denied him at first, bringing him to the edge and then denying him as soon as you felt him about to bust. You lost count at about nine times—around the same time Din started to cry. After close to an hour of that, you did let him come, just like he wanted. But then you didn’t stop.

The last hour and a half or so have been spent working him up just softly enough to get him hard and leaking again, and then edging him for a while before letting him come. Each time, he grows more sensitive, and each time, it becomes more fun for you.

You know your panties are ruined with your arousal at this point, but you don’t pay too much attention to the fact. This is about Din right now, about teaching your Mandalorian a lesson. You want to rip his helmet from his head so you can see the way his tears streak down his ruddy cheeks, so you can hear his whines for mercy without the modulator warping his voice. But you don’t, not yet at least. You want him to feel humiliated by the way he is being punished and violated while still in his beskar.

He begs you to stop, but you know he doesn’t mean it. You have a specific code for these types of things—if he really wants to, all he has to do is say the word and you’d have him out of the binders and in your gentle embrace within seconds. He hasn’t said the word yet, though. He’s too stubborn to let you win completely, but that's okay, you don’t plan to break him. You just want to make him think that you will.

He tilts his head back and whimpers in response to your taunting question and you take the opportunity to grab his cock. Din’s head comes back up with lightning speed as he shouts at the contact that causes his body to shake once again. Though he orgasms, not much trickles out. A small dribble of cum escapes the tip of his cock and leaks down his softening shaft.

He’s a whining, whimpering mess beneath you, and you can’t get enough.

“Think you’ve learned your lesson, sweet boy?” You pet his flaccid cock, making him sob as you ask him the question. He nods to the best of his ability and you tut down at him. “Use your words for me, baby.”

“Y-yes, I’ve learned my lesson,” he tries to keep his voice unwavering but fails miserably.

“Yes, what, honey?”

“Yes m-ma’am, I’ve l-learned my lesson, I’m s-sorry.”

You hum in consideration for a moment before speaking again. “Good boy. I think you deserve a reward for that, don’t you?”

He nods and you figure you’ll accept it this time.

“Okay, baby, I’ll be right back.”

With that, you sit up from where you had been perched on the side of the bed and stride into the closet. As soon as you go through the threshold, you hear Din let out a shuddering breath. Poor thing must be exhausted. You smile at the thought. He’s not done yet.

You open a drawer and dig around until you find what you’re looking for. Once you have the wand in your grasp, you walk back out into the bedroom. You hold the object behind your back so he can’t see while you sit back in your original position. He’s quiet as he waits for you to speak.

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen,” you start, trying to hold your smile back. “I’m going to help you with a little toy, and you’re going to tell me why you’re so sorry.” You wait a moment to watch the way he tilts his head back in defeat. When you hear a small blubber of regret slip from his lips, you continue.

“If you can give me the right answer, I’m going to be generous and let you come, and then we’ll be done. If you can’t… well I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, pretty boy. How does that sound?”

“S-sounds fair, ma’am.”

You nod at him and reach your hands up to his helmet. “Can I take this off, sweetie?” He hesitates but gives you a small nod after a moment. He doesn’t want you to see the mess of tears staining his face.

You release the airlocks and lift up, slowly revealing his pouty lips, his prominent nose, his beautiful, begging eyes, and finally his soft, brown curls. He looks up at you slightly parted lips as you set his helmet to the side.

“There’s my pretty boy,” you say before leaning down to place a gentle kiss to his lips. You don’t wait any longer to move down the bed to where his swollen cock lays against his stomach. You smirk and take the vibrator you picked out into your hand, flipping the switch to turn it onto a low setting. Din flinches at the sound.

“Okay, honey, I want you to keep your eyes on me while you speak, just so I know you’re not lying to me.” A tear slides down his cheek and you can see him gulp down his anxiety. “Yes, ma’am,” he says after a moment.

Bending down, you place a kiss to the tip of his dick, and he tries his best to get away from the contact. When you look up, he’s staring at the ceiling. You lightly slap his cock, making him shout. “Look at me, baby, I’m not gonna tell you again.”

Once his glossy eyes are on you, you bring the vibrator to the tip of his dick. He immediately bucks his hips away and starts to whimper and pant. “Now tell me, what did you do wrong today?”

Mando is too busy gritting his teeth through the blinding overstimulation to answer your question, and you turn the wand up to a higher setting. It’s a fair warning, you think. He screams and thrashes in his restraints.

“I’m sorry, Gods, I’m sorry, p-please!”

“Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry I went ag-ah-against the plan, Gods, I’m s-sorry,” he tries his best to ignore the way the sobs muddle his speech.

You run the vibrator up and down his shaft before bringing it to the tip and applying pressure.

“Good boy… Are you going to do it again?”

“No, no, please!”

You smile and figure that he probably means it. If he ever pulled a stunt like that again, you’d have him chained to the bed for days. His beautiful brown eyes stay on you the whole time.

“Okay, baby, I believe you.” Even though he’s still squirming beneath you, he looks visibly more relaxed at the knowledge that this is almost over. “I want you to beg for it baby, beg me to let you come.” As humiliating as it is, he doesn’t have to be told twice.

“Please let me come, p-please! I’ve been so good for you! Been s-so good!”

You chuckle at the desperation in his voice as you lean down one more time. Keeping the vibrator on the tip of his cock, you turn it up to the max setting and take one of his balls into your mouth, sucking harshly.

He lets out the loudest shout of the night as he comes. He shakes and sobs underneath you as you prolong it as best you can. You hear him speaking, but it’s so slurred through his cries that you’re not sure what he’s trying to say.

Once he’s done orgasming, you lift up and turn the wand off before casting it to the side. When you look at his face, Din has his bottom lip between his teeth as he tries to keep his tears from falling from his closed eyes. Taking pity on him, you decide to wrap it up quickly.

You look down at his belly, covered in his own cum. You take two fingers, being careful to avoid his poor cock, and swipe up a glob of it. Bringing it up to Din’s lips, you tell him to open up, and he does so, licking his own spend off of your fingers.

“What do you say, baby?”

“T-thank you,” his words are breathless but filled with relief at the same time. You bring your forehead down to touch his before kissing him one more time. He gladly reciprocates, chasing your lips once you sit up again.

You tell him to wait just a second as you work at the restraints. Once free, Mando lets his limbs fall into comfortable positions. You smooth his hair down in a soothing motion as you assure him he did good. You stay there with him for a moment before getting up again to get him a glass of water and a fresh set of sheets. You turn the shower on while you’re at it.

Once he’s in the fresher, you change the sheets and grab some snacks for when he comes back. When he does, you’re waiting in the clean bed with open arms. He smiles warmly at you and crawls in, letting you wrap yourself around him. The two of you lay there like that for a while before you break the silence.

“I hope you know I genuinely want you to be safer, baby, that wasn’t just for show.” You know he knows, you just want to be sure.

“I know… I’m sorry I did what I did today.” You can hear the guilt in his voice and you turn to look into his eyes.

“It’s okay, Din… I just…” you trail off as you try to find the right words. “I don’t think I could live with myself if something ever happened to you.” You can feel tears stinging your eyes at the thought of it.

“And now, with the baby on the way…” you trail off, looking at your distended stomach. “ I don’t want our baby to grow up without a buir, Din.”

“I know, my sweet riduur,” he says before placing a soft kiss to your head. You can see the guilt in his eyes as he looks at you. “I never mean to put myself in the way of danger, I don’t know what I was thinking.” You stay silent, but he knows that you’ve accepted his apology.

“And for the record,” he continues, shyly. “I enjoyed what you did tonight.” You look at him and can’t help but giggle at the smirk on his face. It’s not often you take charge in the bedroom, so you were glad to have the confirmation that he liked it just as much as you.

“I love you, Din,” you say softly as you turn off the light and then snuggle into him. He laughs and hugs you closer.

“I love you too, cyare.”

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #smut #ao3 #pedro pascal smut #the mandalorian #din djarin #sub!din djarin #dom reader #sub character #pregnant reader

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joelslegalwhre · 2 years ago

Text

My Riduur

word count // 1.6k

pairing // Din Djarin x fem!reader

word count // 1.6k

summary // Mando didn't like it at all that some boy thought he could get close to his wife. He couldn't show with actions that you were his, the helmet prevented that, but he had his own way to show it.

warnings // jealous Din (let‘s still call him Din okay, thanks), pda, established relationship, lovesick puppy energy, protective!din, allusions to smut, Din and reader speaking Mando’a, me having absolutely no clue about Mando‘a grammar, taking the helmet off if you’re married is okay here, okay? Thanks (did I miss something?)

a/n // I put translation for the Mando‘a words at the end, so you don‘t get confused but I also have the link to the dictionary right here

Took me long enough to write this 😮‍💨 Thank god my exam is over (and I stressed for nothing, it was actually really easy), so here you go with my first ever din fic, I hope you like it x

Masterlist// Mando‘a dictionary I used // my kofi 🩷

It felt strange to be sitting here, in a bar on Mos Eisley, surrounded by all kinds of people, droids, and even a few bounty hunters.

It wasn't the feeling of sitting in a cantina that was weird. No, it was more the feeling of not having to accept a job. You were not here to look for one. In the last months you had almost had no break, and now you could finally lean back a little. The thought, of picking out a nice place with Mando for the three of you for the next few days, pleased you.

But before you did that, you just had to have the ship repaired a bit, after it had taken quite some damage.

Mando was still at Peli Motto's place, busy showing her the ship and checking the price for the repair. You had been looking around the bar ever since he left, hoping he'd be back soon. The jobs of the last weeks had been unique, the wages you had collected for them were easily enough to sit back and relax for a few days, even after getting the razor crest repaired.

You were sitting at a free spot at the bar of the cantina and watched the people and other beings talking to each other. Some argued, some laughed with each other.

You wondered how long it would take for Mando to-

"Hey there, gorgeous." someone sat down next to you, interrupting your thoughts.

You looked at the stranger for a moment, eyeing him. He had to be your age, a few strands of his dark hair fell into his face, and his eyes were not only gleaming with a deep blue, but with an extreme amount of confidence. "I didn't expect to see an angel today." he smirked in a way that almost made you laugh. He didn't lack any confidence, that was for sure.

You drew your brows together, and tilted your head slightly as you looked at him.

"Say, does that work on any woman?"

At his next sentence, you were sure he definitely had a drink too much or just a little too much self-confidence to flirt so shamelessly.

"You're not any woman." he winked.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded with an amused smile. "Oh, is that so?" you chuckled lightly.

"You're here with someone?" he asked, leaning closer. You immediately brought some more space between the two of you again, "I am, actually."

"Well, then where are they?" he asked with a grin that told you he didn't believe you. "Right here." you could hear Mando's deep, modulated voice. Your heart made a little jump when you turned your head and saw him walking straight towards you.

If looks could kill, this wannabe bounty hunter would be six feet underground by now. Mando's jaw had clenched when he saw the stranger talk to you. His jealousy stewing at the mere thought of another man looking at you this way. He’d been ready to stomp up to him and place a good, hard punch right at this fool's flirtatious face.

"Me'bana?" Mando asked, looking at you. His hand naturally found its place on your waist.

"Nothing," you leaned a little closer to him, "Kaysh mirsh solus."

Mando's light, breathy laugh made you almost turn into a puddle. 'He's an idiot.' you'd told him in Mando's native tongue, so the stranger in front of you wouldn't understand.

You had learned it when you started to accompany Mando. He was confused at first, to say at least, as to why you'd wanted to actually learn the language. But you wanted to get to know Mando, that included his native tongue. And besides, it was fun, sitting in the razor crest next to him, Grogu on your lap, learning to speak and read the extraordinary language of your Mandalorian.

"Hey, just so you know," said one started again, "Unalike that tin can there, I can show my face whenever, my lips too." he smirked. His obvious confusion about the two of you speaking in a language he'd never heard but knew must've been Mando'a.

You politely declined his request, slowly getting annoyed. "Thank you very much, but I actually really like the tin can right here."

Mando wanted to kiss you so bad, show you off as his, but he couldn't. That's just how it was, he couldn't take off his helmet. He was proud of his religion, it was part of him. You'd probably wouldn't even let him take it off, even if he tried. That was one of the many reasons he loved you so deeply. You respected his religion, tried to understand and learn about it.

And he could always take it off when the two of you were back in the privacy of the razor crest. He loved the curious look on your face every time he did, as if it was the first time you've seen his face.

But the truth was, that you were enamored with his features, the patchy beard paired with the mustache, his brown eyes and the brown curls… You could just never get enough of him.

Even before you two were married, you always loved to play with the ends of his fluffy hair, whenever it was getting longer once again. It was never much, but enough.

He had other ways to make sure everyone, especially the fool in front of you, knew you belonged to him.

"We need to look for our child." he was well aware that people believed he meant a human child when he referred to Grogu as "child" or "kid".

The look on the boy's face made a smug smile appear on Din's face, carefully hidden by the beskar helmet. He was so satisfied with himself, you could practically feel it spill over, and you didn't even need to see his face for it. You just chuckled quietly.

"Next time," Mando said, "watch who you talk to. My wife is off limits, understand?" his voice cold, almost threatening.

The eyes of the stranger widened, hearing the title.

You took Mando's gloved hand from where it was still firmly placed on your waist, and intertwined your fingers with his.

"C'mon, let's go," you smiled up at your riduur. You turned back around to address the guy, trying to sound nice, "It was nice meeting you."

With that, you left him sitting there, Mando‘s grip on your hand tightening in a protective manner, as you left the cantina.

When you were back at the ship, you could see Grogu fast asleep in his pod, "He's the most adorable thing I've ever seen." you say to Mando, looking at the little being with a look of pure love. Mando‘s heart warmed at the sight of you and Grogu. His little odd family.

"Even more than you getting all jealous of that guy back in the cantina." you grinned at him teasingly.

Mando stepped closer to you, his hands on your hips once again. You slung your arms around his neck.

"I wasn‘t-" but he interrupted himself, he was jealous, so much so that he would've loved to take his blaster out of the holster, even if it was just for show. "I was protecting my aliit." Family. You could barely get your fastening heartbeat under control, no matter how many times he'd say it. "I'm all yours, Din."

"Good." he said, and lowered his head. You could feel the cold beskar of his helmet touch your forehead. A Mandalorian kiss. You loved when he showed you his love that way. You closed your eyes, just soaking up the moment. You couldn‘t see it, but Mando had also closed his eyes, his hands still on your waist, he tried to memorize every little detail about this, about you.

After some time, spent taking the other in, after savoring the intimacy, you could hear a content sigh voice through his modulator.

"I'll look after you, always." His hand wandered to your cheek and cupped it gently. “And trust me,” he huffed, "I won't let anyone flirt with my wife like that, cyar'ika."

You grinned up at him. You couldn't wait to be all alone with him, leaving Grogu in the cockpit to sleep, and kiss him. Oh, how badly you just wanted to give his lips a little peck. You settled for wrapping your arms tightly around his armored middle, pressing yourself against his chest.

Mando's arms around your shoulders, he leaned his helmet against your hair. Even if all you could feel was his armor, it was still him. Your Mandalorian. Your husband. "I love you, mesh'la." the modulator had barely picked it up. He'd whispered it into your hair, like he couldn't believe that you were his. That he had the privilege to be the one to hold you… to love you. And to be loved by you.

"You know," you started smiling at him innocently, „since the baby's asleep, I thought you could show me how much. I mean, just so I know-"

"Haav." he interrupted you, his voice low, "Now." This was no plead, no, a demand. You chuckled and started walking to the makeshift bed you shared with him.

Behind you, you could hear him taking off his helmet, and you could barely hold in your excitement to finally see his face again. You had really missed it, although you've just seen him this morning before getting up. His armor followed next, a second later you could feel his arms wrap themselves around you. "Too many clothes." he whispered into your ear, his voice clear without the modulator. It gave you goosebumps all over your body, "Take them off then.".

Mando‘a translations:

ner = my, mine

riduur = partner, spouse, husband, wife

Me‘bana? = What‘s happening? What happened?

Kaysh mirsh solus = He‘s an idiot (lit. His brain cell is lonely)

cyar‘ika = darling, sweetheart

mesh‘la = beautiful

aliit = clan name, identity, family

haav = bed

🩶taglist: @alexxavicry @kittenlittle24 @hereforfics124 @Snow30285 @cl16version

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian reader insert #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian #grogu my beloved #star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #jealousy #pedro pascal #fluff #em's masterlist

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erebusbabylon · 16 days ago

Text

Shadow of Mandos - Chapter One

No warnings for this chapter.

Chapter One

Eregion buzzed with excitement as preparations for the fair reached a fever pitch. For weeks, everyone had been busy setting up tents, arranging stalls, and preparing for the dignitaries arriving from across Middle-earth. The scent of freshly baked bread and roasted meats wafted through the streets, mixing with laughter and shouts of excitement.

As you walked through the bustling square, the vibrant colors and lively sounds enveloped you. Pride for what you and your dear husband, Lord Celebrimbor had accomplished here in Eregion swelled in your chest. Years of hard work and dedication to craftsmanship had led you both to this very moment.

Celebrimbor had spent much of the past age trying to separate himself from his families curse. There was once a time when many would refuse to do dealings with any descendant of Fëanor, but it seemed Celebrimbor had finally carved out his own legacy and he was no long automatically associated with the sins of his father and grandfather.

As you wound through the streets you began to make your way towards the forge, It had been far too long since you had shared a quiet moment with Celebrimbor. The fair, while a joyous occasion, had consumed his every moment, leaving little time for the two of you. With only four days until the event, it felt as if every hour was claimed by the demands of preparation.

As you pushed through the final crowd of excited children, who were oohing and ahhing over the lanterns being strung up in the town center, you spotted Celebrimbor standing outside the forge, surrounded by a small group of dwarves. You smiled the moment your eyes fell on his golden hair.

You took a moment to admire him in his element, excitedly talking to fellow craftsmen from Khazad-Dum, relaxed and happy. As you approach the group the dwarves noticed you before Celebrimbor and they bowed deeply as you came into their view.

"Good evening, my lady." a stout dwarf with fiery red hair said. You recognized this dwarf as Bolin, one of the jewel smiths of Khazad-dûm with whom your husband had many dealings.

You smiled at the dwarf "Good evening, Master Bolin. How are you this evening?"

Bolin laughed. "Better now that you have joined us! Tell me, Celebrimbor, where have you been hiding her?"

Celebrimbor, very familiar with Bolin's flirtatious nature simply rolled his eyes at the question.

You blushed slightly. "Forgive my absence. I have been quite busy finalizing many of the preparations."

"Bah! No apology needed! We have been having a splendid time with your husband here." Bolin said gesturing to Celebrimbor.

"I am pleased to hear you are enjoying your time here!" You said smiling. "I am afraid I need to steal away your host for a moment. I promise to have him back promptly."

Bolin and the other dwarves laughed loudly. "Even the Lord of such a magnificent realm can not escape the demands of his lady!" Bolin winked at Celebrimbor in jest.

Celebrimbor cleared his throat. " Yes, well at least I have a lady to make demands."

The other dwarves roared with laughter as Bolin shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Yes, well ...hmm not many good options down in our mines! Perhaps this festival will bring me a beautiful elven maiden to bring back to Khazad-Dum!" Bolin turned to you and grabbed your hand. "My Lady, do you happen to have a sister?"

You giggled loudly as Celebrimbor stepped in front of you. Bolin dropped your hand and backed up, feigning defeat by putting his hands up. "It was a joke, Lord Celebrimbor, just a joke!"

"I do not have a sister, but I will definitely put in a good word for you with my friends from the Gray Havens." you winked at Bolin, much to his delight.

"Ah yes, I am quite eager to meet your father, Master Círdan. His ships are legend even among the Dwarves."

"We are expecting him tomorrow. I will make sure to introduce you as soon as possible." you turned your attention to Celebrimbor. "Could you come to the forge tower with me?" You asked.

Celebrimbor gave a small bow to the group of dwarves. "I will return once my ladies demands are met." he said sarcastically.

#celebrimbor #the rings of power #trop #celebrimbor x reader #trop fic

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hapan-in-exile · 8 months ago

Text

Volume 4 - Post #9: Lucid Dreams [M]

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 6K (ninth post in Volume 4)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

A/N: this post is ~90% smut please proceed with caution

_______________________________

IX. “Who are they?” the Mandalorian asks.

You peer out from the gap under his arm. Up on the slope above, you spot the hazy outline of several figures making their way through the scattered huts and dwellings clinging to the mountainside.

“Guards,” you say, recognizing the bright patches sewn over their breast pockets. “But I don’t think they’re on patrol.”

The figures sway and meander as though too drunk to walk straight. They keep bunching up together to pass something around—a bottle, maybe?—only to break apart again to avoid tripping over each other.

“Tagge Corp?”

“Not officially. Most are Lakarani, but they’re trained and outfitted by the Tagge’s to ensure…order.”

Mando unholsters his blaster.

“Don’t,” you whisper, placing a cautionary hand over his fist. “Please! If you’re seen—it could jeopardize everything.”

He ignores your hushed warnings. “Can you confirm how many?”

“Three,” you mutter, growing more frustrated by the second. The Mandalorian might be accustomed to doing whatever he feels like without worrying about the consequences, but shooting his way through the entire camp, will put your whole operation in danger.

“Let’s not do anything rash, okay? They’re probably just making their way to the bonfire. That’s where everyone’s gathering for the solstice.”

“Weapons?”

Really? Okay. Yeah, stabbing him suddenly feels like a fantastic idea.

“They usually take tasers on patrol. Some carry blasters.”

“Alright,” he says. “We hope they pass by. But if they make trouble for us…I’ll take care of the bodies.”

“Bodies?!” you groan.

“Leave the carcasses in the woods for predators. When the river washes up what’s left of them, it’ll look like an animal attack,” Mando shrugs. “An accident.”

You rub your hands over your face to prevent yourself from wrapping them around the Mandalorian’s throat.

“Three missing guards is not going to look like an accident no matter what state they’re found in.” There’s a sharp edge to your words that only hinted at the rage building inside your chest. This isn’t some Outer Rim trading depot. Any sign of trouble would put the TaggeCo refinery on high alert.

Sure, the Tagges liked to appear uninterested in the settlement right outside their gate. When it suited them. When they could claim ignorance about the appalling living conditions and environmental contamination. But they were, in fact, very interested in any signs of disorder. And three dead guards would certainly raise some eyebrows.

Did they make the camp guards wear trackers? The guard Humia’s been sleeping with is the one who showed her how to block the signal. That didn’t necessarily mean—kriffing hell! If Mando leaves behind a bloody path that leads right back to your doorstep? Humia, Davik, and Serenio will all be fucked.

“Keep your head down,” the Mandalorian urges, angling his shoulders so the cloak hides you from view.

“Dammit, would you listen to me!” and you’re not the only one surprised to hear the fury in your voice. Mando’s head snaps up at attention. “Look,” you whisper softly, trying to regain some composure. “I know we haven’t spoken in weeks—”

“That was for your protection,” he says defensively. “You think I wanted—”

“That’s as may be,” you cut him off. “But my point is that you have no fucking clue how things work around here, or how close I am to—for you to just—you can’t just show up and—”

Mando’s hand closes firmly over your mouth, “They’re coming.”

Light from the guard’s lantern splutters overhead, flickering against the steel and tin as it hovers aloft, illuminating their path down the slope.

The Mandalorian’s hand slides up the back of your neck to press your forehead against his chest, completely obscuring your view of the approaching guards. You can only hear your breath and his, and the sound of footsteps coming closer.

While the criss-cross of shadows underneath the hut helps to conceal you, you aren’t totally hidden from sight. If they happen to look in your direction when they follow the path between the houses, the guards will see you under the lantern light.

Or maybe the gods will be merciful? Most people never look further than the next foot in front of them, and these three are so drunk, they need all their concentration to stay upright. They might simply walk past and—

But you hear from the crunch of gravel that they’ve already noticed the two indistinct figures huddled together amidst the pilings.

They slow down. Suspicion? Voyeurism? You can’t be sure.

But that last thought gives you sudden inspiration. “Grab me,” you whisper, looking into the Mandalorian’s viewplate. When he pauses to stare down at you in confusion, you explain, “Like you’re taking me up against the pylon.”

There’s no time to run and even less time to think. You need to hide. Only there’s nowhere to hide—except exactly where you’re standing.

Mando catches on quick. He tucks the blaster into the bandolier strapped across his chest, and with two strong hands, grabs your ass in his wide palms and hauls you against his hips. The hard press of his body sends a trill of panic coursing through you. He has you pushed up against the steel beam now. You hadn’t really thought this through. Yet, despite your anger and frustration from moments ago, instead of pulling back, you lean closer. Lean into him.

Leather fingers glide down your thigh to grip your knee, before he hoists your leg up, wrapping it around his back. He moves so fast and with such force, you have to throw your hands out behind you to brace yourself against the piling. The hem of your robe tugs open, the fabric falling aside to expose your leg from toe to hip, and the Beskar tasset scrapes against your bare skin.

But the thrill of sensation when he presses his hips between your thighs, pinning you against the steel and concrete, is so good that you hardly notice. Suddenly you don’t care about him ignoring you, or the thoughtlessness of his actions. Pleasure arcs through you, and you gasp.

The sound draws the guards’ attention.

“Take a look at these two,” one of them guffaws.

The beam from the lantern droid turns, casting a thin fluorescent glow over the pilings underneath your hut. With the Mandalorian’s hood draped over him, the cloak is just long enough to cover the Beskar, and his armor remains hidden. Hopefully, they won’t see the disintegration rounds strapped to his shin.

“Remember,” Mando growls through clenched teeth. “This was your idea.”

“I—” you have no idea what you planned to say in response—sorry?—but it doesn’t matter.

Because that’s when his leather hand slips under the crease of your knee, lifting your leg up so high you have to wrap an arm around his shoulder to keep from falling. You barely regain your balance, when his hips buck, shoving you back against the rigid steel so hard you feel the pressure of his straining erection rub against you through the flight suit.

Oh?! Oh. Interesting!

Is one gasp of pleasure in the Mandalorian’s ear all it takes to get that kind of reaction? Knowing that Mando is just as aroused, just as helpless to resist the force of attraction between you, is such an exhilarating rush.

You feel ungodly smug right now. Still got it, you think to yourself.

Then his hips buck again, and you lose the ability to think about anything else at all. It only lasts a moment, but that’s long enough to send a surge of pleasure ricocheting through you. A jolt of aching desire throbs between your thighs, and the cry that escapes your lips isn’t performance.

“Whoa-ho, brother!” another of the guards chuckles. “Careful not to break her.”

They all laugh at this, and one of them calls out, adding, “Your queen deserves a bed, brother.”

“A bed of blossoms for Ehki’s daughter!”

“It’s Honatoka, brother! Where are her flowers?”

“A crown of flowers for your queen!”

They are very loud and very drunk. Yet, some part of your brain vaguely acknowledges the harmless nature of their taunting. You sense no ill will from any of them. They had slowed down to jeer but made no attempt to approach.

“Come on, you perverts! He doesn’t need you shouting suggestions.”

“Ah, you’re right, ha ha! At that rate, he won’t last much longer.”

“My back hurts just watching.”

They howl in a chorus of raucous laughter as the slow tread of their footsteps continues to carry them down the rocky path.

Which should come as a relief. However, most of your brain is consumed by whether you might actually orgasm from the stimulation of the Mandalorian rutting between your thighs. This might be an act, but the way he pretends to fuck you is merciless. The rhythm of his hips is slow and brutal.

You feel precariously weightless. The rigid strength of Mando’s arms is the only thing bearing you upright. He’d slid a hand behind your back, bracing his elbow against the pylon next to your face to conceal you from view as the guards pass by. But, his other hand remains cinched around your thigh, knee nearly pressed against your chin, using the leverage to hold you in place. Beneath the robe, you only have on a thin pair of shorts you were wearing when you fell asleep, and with each thrust, you feel the hard press of his cock rubbing the fabric against your clit.

By now, the sensation is almost overwhelming. Each time, you have to gasp for breath, caught between the bursts of pleasure—reeling on the edge of climax. All the blood in your body rushes to your cunt, pulsing with his every thrust, over and over.

And, Blessed Mother, the sound of his breathing coming shallow and fast is enough to bring you to the brink already. You’re so close.

Is this what he was like with other women? The women who came before, who fucked him in his armor and left afterward? Your time together had been so gentle and tender—Mando’s first time making love, being naked, sharing a bed in the aftermath. But you want this side of him, too. You want all of him.

For some reason, the lantern droid had lingered to hover above the path, still casting its thin light overhead. You watch the undulation of his shadow while the Mandalorian rocks his hips against you. A jagged phantom looming over you, claiming you. You close your eyes and arch into his thrusts as the world goes black.

But even as you dance along the dizzying edge of orgasm, you can’t let go. Dammit, you can’t stop thinking about those faceless women. Ferocious mercenaries and cold-hearted bounty hunters, you imagine. Women of action, who did not sob under their blankets, wracked with indecision.

Well, you may not be ruthless, but you can be shameless. Tonight, you want to erase everyone else who came before. Tonight, think only of me.

The Mandalorian worships your tits, and from this angle, he must have a spectacular view of them bouncing with each clash of his hips. You know he must be watching, staring down at them, hypnotized and longing to touch them. So you reach for the hand on your thigh and press his palm over your breast.

Mando’s tenses in surprise. “Are they gone?” he asks in a low voice.

“Do you care?” you reply, letting all that urgency and desire fill your words.

It takes him a minute to consider. Both the droid’s light and the guard’s boisterous laughter had finally faded away, leaving you behind in the quiet darkness. Still…maybe this was too reckless for him. Too impulsive. You don’t want to push his boundaries, but that’s exactly what makes it thrilling, right? That desire can make the rest of the world fade away, blurring out the periphery.

Mando sighs, his fingers tracing the neckline of your robe, when he can’t find the words to answer.

The fabric is drapey enough for him to push aside, baring your breasts to the night air. The camisole you wore to bed is lace, so old and worn it's downy soft. And threadbare. Your nipples press against the gaping weave, visibly darkening with arousal. They pinch from the cold and anticipation.

As his thumb brushes over your puckered skin, you suck in a sharp breath—“Mmph!”—then he squeezes. Hard. Then soft, then hard again. Arousal spirals through you, down to your core, as he kneads and caresses. The hand he had braced against the pylon, slips down to trail over the length of your neck, past your collarbone, and between your breasts until he presses them together tightly. The contrasting sensation of the soft leather and lace roughly teasing over your nipples is almost too much to bear.

You bite your lip to keep from crying out.

“This is what you want?” Mando whispers. His hand lifts to cup your face, and you can feel his gaze boring into you, seeking out what’s hidden in the depths of your eyes. “Here? Now? In the armor?”

“Yes,” you moan. Sweet, merciful gods, yes! Your cunt is so tight and hot that it almost hurts. Tilting your hips at just the right angle, you rub yourself against his cock and feel the friction of the fabric glide across your clit again. You’re already soaking wet—so wet he must feel the dampness through his flight suit.

“Hu-ungh,” the Mandalorian groans, before gripping you by the waist so he can meet the thrust of your hips and grind back against you. The hard press of his erection sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“I don’t know how much longer I can make it if you keep doing that,” his voice is gruff and hoarse. “But you’re angry…what if you regret this?”

You feel a frantic bubble of laughter rising in your throat. How did you manage to fuck each other in the first place? You are both far too honorable!

Of course, Mando’s not wrong. But all that anger from before has, by now, transformed into lust—igniting the heat of passion, so hot it warms the hollow places in your heart. And you want to feel the full force of that heat. Burning through desperate emotions like hurt and despair, and, yes—jealously—to reclaim your confidence the best way you know how. With sex.

You want to feel powerful, the way you do when the Mandalorian gasps your name, as though it was his last dying breath.

“It’s nothing to do with you,” you lie, and maybe he is right about you being a terrible liar. Because when he continues to hesitate, you grow downright incensed. How dare he change his mind now, after you’ve decided this is what you want?

“Please, Mando,” you moan. “I need you.”

Those pleading words wrench something within him. “Maker, help me,” he says, jaw tight, as he reaches to hold your face in his leather palms. “But, I fucking love hearing you say please.”

Now you’ve got him swearing? Your mouth curves into a triumphant grin.

“You love hearing me beg,” you correct him with a sly wink. “Now let go, so I can get my hands around your cock.”

He breathes out sharply as though you’d struck him. Okay. So the Mandalorian likes it when you talk dirty? Or perhaps it’s your confidence he enjoys. He’s drawn to strong women, after all.

His hands pull away as he stands up straighter and takes a step back. The night air rushes in to fill the sudden gap between your bodies, and for a terrifying second, you feel the dreadful weight of rejection ready to crush you. But the next second, Mando’s fingers close around your wrist, guiding your hand downward to place your palm over his straining erection.

“It’s already so hard for you,” he says, his grip is as firm as his tone is soft. And you love it. That despite the gallantry, your boldness makes him bold. He needs this as much as you do.

By now, you feel dizzy—hazy with lust. The guttural moan he gives when you curl your fingers around his cock and slowly stroke your palm over its length is intoxicating, like a drug. You don’t care who might see, and you don’t care how shameless it is.

Tonight, think only of me.

You bite your lip. “Last time we did this, you had me up against a wall,” you say, glancing at the closest pylon behind him, judging the distance. “Hmm, something something turnabout’s fair play?”

With that, you reach out to place your hands over his chest and push him back against the steel piling. Caught off-guard, he braces his hands wide behind him. As he stands there, mildly shocked, legs slightly spread, you kneel between his thighs and reach for his belt.

“What are you doing?” his voice is tight with strain.

You look up into the view plate, brow arched. “I should think it was obvious.”

It’s a strange logic that getting down on your knees can make you feel powerful, but there’s a thrill of satisfaction knowing the skills you’ve honed over years of practice will reduce this hardened warrior into a trembling state of incoherence. And you want to hear him shouting your name.

You aren’t especially flexible, nor are you totally free of inhibitions, but sucking dick is your one slutty superpower.

“You don’t—haah,” his breath hitches when you open your mouth to trace your tongue over your lips, wetting them as you release the latch of his belt. “You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t,” you say, holding his gaze. “But I want to. And so do you.”

Your fingers fan wide, palms gliding up the inside of his thighs, trying to ease some of the nervous tension building in his muscles. “Relax,” you murmur teasingly.

Your hands meet at his inseam, slipping beneath the vest to caress the outline of his stiff erection through the canvas. The purr of his zipper goes almost tooth by tooth. In the breathless, still silence, you can even hear the soft sound of your fingers reaching into his pants to take hold of his enormous cock.

He’s already so hard that it slips free, jutting into your palm, supple and thick. No matter how many times you see it, it’s still ridiculous!

Released from the confines of his pants, Mando throbs in your grip, swelling larger between your fingers. The base is a deep bronze, the head is pale pink, growing steadily darker as blood pumps through his veins. He feels feverishly hot against your cool skin, so full that he must ache.

And so caught up in the sight of you kneeling between his legs, that he’s breathless.

With one hand, you circle him in your grip, tightening and loosening your fist as you move up and down the length of his shaft, before brushing your thumb over the tip. You smile up at him when his hips jerk, and you feel the first beads of come slick over your fingers even as his muscles tense, trying to resist the pleasure of it.

“Relax,” you say again, softer this time. Your voice is almost a whisper, “I’ll take good care of you.”

And with that, you lift the head of his cock to your mouth and lick away the salty droplets with the tip of your tongue. Finally, you feel his body yield to a different kind of tension.

“Nnngh!” he groans, gripping your shoulders before gasping something that might have been your name or just a general obscenity. Dirty talk isn’t covered in your Mando’a phrasebook—but it really should be! You make a mental note to download a more comprehensive dictionary, a little shocked that you hadn’t thought of it sooner.

His salty come is warm against your tongue. You trace the tip of his cock over your wet lips, slowly circling the circumference of your open mouth before drawing in just the first few inches, pleased to hear a sharp intake of breath sizzling through the modulator.

“Fuck,” he whispers, winding a hand through your hair as you open your mouth to take him in. You start sucking—soft, slow little swallows at first. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

You don’t give him everything right away. Sometimes, anticipation is the best part. You want him to slow down and enjoy the wait. So you run your tongue along the length of his shaft, lick him, tease the ridges of his crown with your lips, kiss the taut band of tissue underneath, and caress him against your cheeks.

Then, you press your lips against the tip to give him one swirl of your tongue, before sliding them down the length of his shaft. You take a strong, hard pull, hallowing your cheeks.

Mando throws his head back and releases another guttural moan, “Mmn-nngh!” The hand in your hair tightens, until his grip borders on pain.

With the leather gloves on, he probably can’t tell. But you don’t mind. You like knowing you have this effect on him. And gods divine, the noises he’s making—

Come wells between your legs, so wet it’s drenching your shorts and slicking down your thighs. The urge to touch yourself, to slip a finger inside the wet folds of your cunt, is so unbearable it makes you feel weak. Instead, you grip his rock-hard thighs with both hands and take him in deeper.

His girth forces you to open your jaw all the way, so big that you can barely use your tongue. It’s all you can do to get the full length of him inside your mouth. The head is almost to the back of your throat, and you feel like you might choke. You have to keep swallowing, faster and faster, just to catch your breath. Come wells against your mouth, trickling from your lips, stretched thin around his thick cock.

You remember how much he loved your teeth last time, so you tense your jaw a little tighter before lightly dragging them under his shaft, grazing the ridges of his crown as you draw back.

“Aaah! Fuck, yes! That’s...” his fingers clench in your hair. His other hand cups the back of your head, but he can’t find the words to describe exactly what you're doing to him.

Mando’s huge, but you feel confident you can take more of him down your throat. The trick is to still your breathing and swallow him. Which is where the ability to control your body on a cellular level elevates your dick-sucking abilities into the stratosphere.

But he’s not ready for that yet. You remind yourself to take it slow and luxuriate in the feel of him against your tongue, the taste of salt flooding your mouth. You can feel the tightness in his balls against your chin and wonder just how long it’s been since he’s had head this good.

Placing your thumb and forefinger around the base of his sac, you gently tug downward to release some of the pressure while continuing to draw him into your mouth, alternating shallow, repetitious strokes and long, languorous pulls. Your other hand closes around the base of his cock so you can pump him in time with your movements.

The sticky come trickling from the corners of your mouth tells you that he’s getting close. You can feel him throb with every stroke. If you want to give him everything you’ve got, it has to be now.

So you relax any muscle or reflex that might resist, before taking all of him in. You feel every swollen vein of his thick shaft sliding between your slick lips until he fills you all the way to your throat, until your nose touches his warm belly under a coarse thicket of black hair surrounding the base of his cock.

Cheeks glistening with saliva, come running down your chin, you swallow around him, and the contraction of your throat is enough to make him thrust even deeper. Your mind empties of any thought beyond the pressure of each inch he squeezes further down your throat.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” his hands resting on your head squeeze into fists—you didn’t think he could grip you any tighter, but they do. The very real pain brings tears to your eyes, but it only sharpens your desire. The desperate, aching need, clenching the muscles inside your cunt, is so insistent you could probably come by just pressing your thighs together.

"Oh, fuck," he gasps.

With your hands braced on his hips, you encourage him to thrust deeper into your mouth and throat in rhythm with each bob of your head. The squelching sound is driving you wild. He’s so close to finishing—so close you can feel his cock pulsing against your lips. His breath becomes shorter and sharper, each one just short of a moan.

Then, suddenly, Mando pulls out of your mouth. He takes a step back and shakes his head, catching himself right on the brink.

“Did I—” your voice quavers.

“No,” he looks up at you sharply. “That was perfect…so perfect that…” the Mandalorian stumbles on his next step before leaning back against the pylon.

Holy crap! The widest, most delightful shit-eating grin spreads across your face. He doesn’t trust himself to stand. Yep, still got it!

“I wasn’t finished,” you say, wiping your chin clean with the back of your hand.

“I know,” he manages between ragged breaths. “But, another minute—aah— fuck, another second—and I would have shouted your name loud enough for the entire parsec to hear.”

Really?! “Then I definitely shouldn’t stop.”

That makes him laugh.

Mando regains his equilibrium and steps forward, feet steadier now. His cock is still hard, jutting out from his pants, and you nuzzle it against your cheeks as he comes closer.

“Look at me,” he gasps, tilting your chin up. You lift your eyes to meet the jet-black line of his helmet, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“I dreamed of this so many times,” he says, using one hand to gently brush the hair from your cheeks while the other guides his cock back into your mouth. His hips roll so slowly you can tell he’s determined to regain some measure of control. “What does it say about me…that I think you look perfect like this?”

“Mmmm,” your moan of satisfaction is genuine. The praise and validation, the sound of his hitched sighs and groans of pleasure—your entire body reacts—growing flushed, getting impossibly wetter. Your cunt begins to pulse so hard that, for a moment, you think you might come from simply listening to the hunger in his voice.

The vibration of your lips against his cock sends a jolt through his body, and you remind yourself to dial it down. He doesn’t want to come yet.

Sometime soon, you’ll need to mention that your abilities can assist with his…longevity. And recovery time. But for now, you can respect his need to slow down.

You run your tongue underneath the length of his shaft, tease the ridge with your lips, and suck the head once or twice before pulling back. He slips from your mouth, dark and glistening. “Was it this good in your dreams?”

“Nothing feels as good as this,” Mando murmurs.

You’re about to say something clever about that sounding like a challenge, but the words get lost in your throat when his hands slip under your arms, lifting you back onto your feet. One hand slides up your spine to grip the back of your neck, the other clings to your waist. You feel the length and hardness of his erection pressed against your soft belly.

“Mmmph,” he sighs. “Nothing, except maybe the feeling of you clenching around my cock when you come.”

Oh gods, if you could orgasm from just listening to the Mandalorian’s voice, that would have done it.

“How do I make you ready?” he asks.

“That, aaah, won’t be a problem,” and since you’re so determined to prove what a shameless slut you are, you slip your hand between your bodies, down past your stomach, and into your shorts, wetting your fingers before holding them out for him to see. You fix him with what you hope is a smoldering look and drop into your most sultry tone, “See how wet I got with your cock in my mouth.”

Grabbing you by the wrist, he pulls your hand up toward his face, lifts the steel jaw of his helmet over his mouth, and sucks the come from your fingers.

Your entire body flushes with heat.

"Haaah," you gasp. The sensation of his warm, wet mouth, the press of his tongue between your fingers, sends the most powerful tidal wave of arousal coursing through your fingertips and down to your cunt. “That was…” but you’ve lost the capacity to speak, let alone describe what may be the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Then, the helmet falls into place, and Mando pushes you back against the pylon. “Turnabout—” he starts to say—

“Yes,” you groan, arching into him. “Exactly,” and you wriggle the silky fabric of your robe against the rough concrete until your shorts slip over your hips and down to your ankles.

Reaching out for him, you wrap your arms around his neck. He lifts you by the backs of your thighs and guides your legs around his waist, under the tassets.

The blaster is still tucked against his chest plate, and it's all conflicting sensations—cold steel, warm body, sharp edges, and soft skin—but you can’t think about any of that. There’s nothing beyond the feeling of him between your thighs and the anticipation of sliding onto his waiting cock.

The head is penetrating you, just barely, but slightly more with every roll of his hips. Mando is working you open as slowly and deliciously as possible.

“So, you did miss me,” you throw your head back, smiling and breathless.

“Yes, cyar'ika, ” he moans, rolling his hips until he sinks the rest of the way inside you, groaning with bliss. “I missed the way you taste. I missed holding you in my arms. I thought about you every day, and when Arasuum heard my prayers, you found me in my dreams.”

Then he thrusts harder, filling you completely, making you cry out, “Aaangh!”

Hearing you, he growls in satisfaction and rocks his hips back so he can thrust inside you again. Mando’s width and length stretches you—your cunt burns as he forces you wider to take him in. It’s a pain so sweet, it makes your mouth water, and so, you lick the only part of him that’s exposed, the rough, stubbled skin under his jaw all the way to the tip of his chin.

The Mandalorian responds by gasping what is definitely your name this time, along with some incomprehensible words that sound a lot more like prayers than obscenities. His hands grip you tighter, and that’s the moment when the pleasure eclipses the pain. His cock feels so good inside you, blurring out everything else.

Every time, he pulls almost all the way out, then plunges in deep. You glance down to see if you can watch him sliding in and out between your thighs. But all the crumpled folds of fabric, quilted leather, and armor are in the way. You can’t see. All you can do is feel.

“And what did you do to me in these dreams?” you whisper.

“Everything,” he sighs, the modulator vibrating next to your ear. “Slowing down to take my time, and I last forever. Speeding up until I’m fucking you senseless.”

Then he thrusts, so hard you have to clutch at his neck, your fingernails digging into the thick canvas. “We can go slow and hard like this. Or do you want me to fuck you faster? Tell me what you want.”

Merely hearing those words brings you back to the brink. You’re dizzy and flushed, entirely helpless to the feeling of him moving inside you. Your voice is hardly more than a whisper as you say, “Please...please, Mando, just fuck me as hard as you can.”

His hands go to your waist and grip you tightly as he starts to pump into you, each stroke more fierce as the last. You feel his powerful abdominals flexing against you, the muscles in his thighs tensing with each brutal thrust. He speeds up, and then the only sounds are his heavy breaths, grunting, and the whimper you release with each clash of his hips.

This angle makes it harder for you to get fully stimulated, but his cock feels so good inside you, filling you completely. You cry out—one long cry you can’t control—as the blood rushes to your cunt. The sensation spirals. Soars. Desire sharpens inside you. Peaks. You feel weightless in the rush of pure ecstasy, hips circling against him as every muscle of your body surrenders to the intensity of your orgasm.

Gravity turns upside down as you clench around Mando’s cock. The climax hits you so hard that, for a moment, you worry you might pass out.

“Nnngh, yes,” he grits his teeth, "just like that," and then he’s there with you. The Mandalorian reaches down, tilting your pelvis to thrust even deeper. How is that even possible? You feel him everywhere. Then he slides in slower, once, twice—then goes totally still, as a shudder of pleasure goes through him. "Haah, haah, aah."

His head collapses against your shoulder as you both struggle to catch your breath.

“Careful,” you murmur, barely able to hear yourself over the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. “You’re the only thing keeping me from collapsing and tumbling down the side of a mountain.”

Mando chuckles, the vibration of his laughter resonating against your ribs. “Was that what you wanted?” he asks, slipping a hand behind your back so you feel more secure.

“That was perfect,” you sigh. “You?”

“Perfect,” he agrees. “But next time, I’m tearing that robe off you.”

You look down to see the neckline hanging open, with a solitary knot at your waist, holding on for dear life as the fabric gapes open over your thighs.

“I’m not sure there’s much left to do.”

Mando laughs, pinching one of the sleeves to rub the fabric between his leather fingers. “I’m glad you like it. It suits you.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say appreciatively. “Thank you.”

“It’s a piece of fabric. You make it beautiful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks, and your heart begins to race again. His cock is still half hard inside you. If you moved your hips—

“I missed seeing that look in your eyes,” he says.

“What look?”

“When you flirt, you usually have this…sort of smug look on your face.” You immediately roll your eyes, which just makes him laugh. “But one compliment and you blush, and your eyes go wide with this look of…something,” he breathes out sharply. “Need, maybe. I can see in your eyes how much you want me.”

Damn, he is observant. “I’m usually the one making people blush.”

“I know, that's why it’s so satisfying.”

You place a hand lightly over his helmet, relieved when he doesn’t flinch or pull away. “Feels like an unfair advantage. How am I supposed to know how bad you want me?”

Mando cocks his head.

“Alright, fine. The hard on is a reliable indicator. But—”

“Never worry about that,” he says wryly, and you feel his cock throb, flexing inside you. “I always want you.”

The flush in your cheeks gets even hotter, and you laugh to dispel the fluster of embarrassment.

“When you were gone, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. When you’re near, all I want to do is touch you. All I ever want to do is touch you and kiss—"

He stops himself, "I—”

“It’s okay,” you sigh. “I know you can’t take off the helmet. You don’t remove your armor on the job.”

You uncross your ankles and return both feet to the ground. Mando finally slips out, and you feel warm wetness sliding down your thighs.

The Mandalorian can sense your disappointment, but you have no intention of being thwarted so easily. You wrap your arms tighter around his neck, threading your fingers so he won’t pull away. Your head rests against his chest—the Beskar plate feels cool against your flushed cheek.

“We have time,” he says. “We haven’t even made it inside yet.”

“Actually,” you look up at him. “There's something I want to show you that's going to make you very excited.”

*********

Continue reading - Volume 4 - Post #10: Never Knew I Needed You

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#mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mando smut #sexy mando #sexymando #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #star wars smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #mandalorian smut

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corazondebeskar-reads · 11 months ago

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live to rise - chapter four

live to rise series

four: where the light won't find you

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

gladiator!Din Djarin x f!reader

word count: 4.3k

summary: After the Mandalorian is removed from your barrack and you are given a new assignment, you see him fight for the first time.

chapter warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, rape/non-con (NOT involving reader or Din but they are witness to it), implied physical abuse, near-death encounter, mando fic tropes galore

Please heed the series and chapter warnings.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Reassigned. Not terminated. Reassigned. Your hand rests on your heaving chest as you try to settle from the surprise of it all.

The Mandalorian’s been sponsored.

You hadn’t thought it possible; his price was supposedly astronomical. This person must be obscenely rich.

And then your heart drops further. This is why you shouldn’t have gotten so close. Yes, you’d rather have him leave your barracks alive than dead, but you can’t help the wave of sorrow that crests. You had enjoyed his company immensely, even dismissing the feelings you weren’t acknowledging.

It’s not like you didn’t treat each parting as potentially permanent anyway, but sometimes, with your long-term residents, you got a little too comfortable.

You pack up the bedding hastily and head toward Cresh. You know he won’t still be there, you tell yourself, you’re just going to get the cell turned over as soon as possible.

It hurts a little to find it empty, anyway.

Cresh goes through three more C-5s before you hear about the Mandalorian again.

“How did you deal with him?” Hali asks you one night after the attendants have shared the day’s news.

“With who?” you ask, even though there’s no one else she could mean.

“That Mandalorian. He was so gruff and rude. I’m the fifth attendant he’s rejected, and it’s making everyone on edge. Like there’s something wrong with us .”

You shrug it off. “He’s just guarded. He probably doesn’t want someone in his space.”

“Yeah, well,” she grumbles. “It’s not like we want to be in his space.”

“Has anyone explained that to him?”

“I tried to,” she says. “But it’s like he wouldn’t even listen to me.”

Cold clarity finds you with your lips parted and eyes wide. You can’t tell her. But your stomach sinks. The design of those cells puts him at the back of the chamber. If they’re being quiet, from fear or otherwise, he can’t hear them.

They come for you the next day. Two guards. The fear when they beckon you is almost enough to bring you to your knees.

The only reason you don’t panic completely is because they don’t bind you. They just march you between them to the upper levels.

When you reach the lounge, they shove you through the door, and you stumble a little.

“This is the girl, as requested, Madame, but we really can’t spare her from her duties,” says one of the commanders. You don’t know his name; the officers never come downstairs.

“If she’s the only attendant he’ll accept, you don’t have a choice. Or am I paying these frankly extortionary caretaking fees for nothing?”

You stiffen, all nerves sparking on high alert.

The commander stammers a little, losing his composure when he realizes credits are on the line.

“I can handle both, Commander, I swear," you say, immediately wishing you hadn't.

The Mandalorian's sponsor turns slowly, a thin eyebrow arched. You figure you’re already in for it for speaking out of turn, so you clench your jaw and meet her eyes.

She’s petite, but there’s an undeniable aura of danger pouring from her. Her dark eyes are cold, and her plum lips narrowed. Her clothing is intricate and expensive in the way of the truly wealthy—it’s not dripping with jewels or gold; it’s quality fabric tailored immaculately, with delicate embroidery creating striking and flattering designs. She does wear jewelry, but it’s subtle and almost assuredly custom.

“Why you?” she says.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I was his barrack caretaker.”

She hums and blatantly looks you up and down, circling you like a nexu. You keep your head up and force yourself not to follow her with your eyes. To let her prowl and remain uncowed.

It’s unbecoming of a servant, you know. But you want her to know you can handle him, that you won’t be intimated and manipulated by the infamous Mandalorian.

When she comes back around, she has a pleased, sharp grin. Turning to the commander, she crosses her arms.

“Make it happen, or I’ll withdraw my sponsorship.”

“Yes, Madame,” he says.

You don’t want to leave the barracks. Not Cresh and not the servant’s quarters. It doesn’t really hit you until you hug Eli and realize you’ll barely see him anymore.

“Shut up,” he grumbles when you say as much. “You’re going to come by and report, right?”

You nod, sniffling into his tunic. “I will.”

He puts his hands on your shoulders. “This is a good thing. You’ll have better… everything. And you said you trust him, right?”

“I think so,” you say.

“C’mon, I’ll walk with you,” he says.

You shove his shoulder. “You just want to see what it’s like inside.”

“Well, duh,” he shoves you back.

He only gets to peek in, of course. But he still plays it up to get a smile from you. “This is kriffing wizard,” he teases. “You get your own fresher? Practically Canto Bight.”

But you’re not really seeing it through the same lens. Because your new quarters are in the Mandalorian’s cell. There’s a barred gate between you, but your cot is still behind the solid durasteel door, same as his.

Eli sees the fear on your face. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s not locked for you. Your badge will always open it.”

He sets your bag down on the small cot and hugs you again. “You know where to find me.”

“I will,” you say. You don’t catch the look he gives Mando over your shoulder.

You sit down on the cot when Eli leaves, more unmoored here than you’ve been in years. You let it sit, ugly and misshapen in your chest, before steeling your focus.

“Do you have everything you need?” you say.

“I think so,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, and silence resettles. It’s strange to feel so uncertain around him again. “I’ll go retrieve your dinner.”

“Do you eat here as well?” he asks.

“If you wish,” you say. Your hands are folded together and wrapped up in the top apron layer of your skirts.

“I don’t want to disrupt your routine,” he says.

“I’m here to attend to you,” you remind him, feeling a little frustrated by all the things unsaid.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s—it’s nothing,” you say and sigh. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

He’s almost relieved when you only bring one tray. Everything about this has been chaotic and messy. But it’s a sacrifice that has to be made.

You retrieve his tray when you return from dining with the others, but this time, you come back to him after. The lights are out, and you think he might be asleep already, so you duck into the fresher from your side of the bars and wash up for the night.

You settle onto your cot, almost grateful that it’s not any more comfortable than your old one. It’s strange, without the shuffling and snoring of your peers.

And then it starts. A horribly unmistakable sound from the cell next door. You hope you’re wrong. You pray you’re wrong.

You’re not.

You sit up, fingers digging into your knees, and eyes on the ground.

You can’t see into the cells around you, but you can certainly hear your neighboring attendant’s screams and cries.

They’re begging and pleading, but no one will help them. It’s the champion’s right. The attendants must serve every request unless it goes against arena rules.

Very few things do.

It’s not that you’re afraid of the Mandalorian. It’s more like you’re just afraid. But he’s done nothing to lose your trust, so you try not to flinch when he comes near the bars between his cell and your chamber.

While you manage not to, you do flinch each time the noises intensify or change. The sound of skin against skin is constant, but some are more obviously violent, emphasized by the nauseating responses.

“Hey,” he says. “Come here.”

You’re trembling a little, but you tense and try to hold steady as you stand and approach him. The gate is not locked. It only locks when you access the main door, so that you may come and go without releasing him.

If you’re inside? All he has to do is push.

But he doesn’t. “Don’t listen,” he says. “Cover your ears if you have to.”

“I’m fine,” you say.

He doesn’t quite catch it, but he can wager a solid guess from your expression. He sighs. “You can look at me, you know,” he says. “You’ll see me eventually.”

“I might be able to avoid it,” you say.

“I appreciate it,” he says. “But this is all going to be easier if you don’t have to be trying so hard.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want to take anything from you.”

“I’m asking you to. I don’t want the first time you see my face to be in the arena.”

You bite your lip. It makes sense. “You’re sure?”

“I am.”

And you can’t really argue. Not because you’re supposed to do what he says but because you get it. He’s right; you will see him in the arena. But he can control how it happens this way. It doesn’t have to be another thing they just take.

So you look.

Your eyes scan his face like they always do when you see one of your fighters for the first time. Searing it in so you can find it later in the pigments.

You won’t paint him, though. Not like this.

He holds steady eye contact. You feel like he’s waiting for a reaction, but nothing comes. He’s beautiful, but that’s not yours to say.

“I’m sorry,” you say instead.

“Thank you.” He pauses. “Worked, though, didn’t it?”

You blink at him for a moment.

The smallest shadow of a crooked smile flickers but doesn’t ignite. “Distracted you.”

The hall is quiet. You hadn’t realized, but the horrors next door had wound down. Stars, you hope they’re okay. Sleeping or tending their wounds. Not… well. Not forcibly silenced.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, drawing your eyes back to him. His fingers wrap around a bar near yours. Not touching, but inviting.

“Okay.” You’re not really sure what else to say. You’ve heard it before. Some mean it, some don’t. You think he’s genuine, that he’s safe, but that caution is like a little burn that never heals, leaving you to flinch away.

Your fingers twitch, and he thinks you’re about to touch his.

But you wince when the main door of the neighboring cell opens. His eyes bear a plea he won’t voice, but you only hesitate for a moment before pressing your badge to the scanner. His gate clicks and the door whooshes open.

They’re already ducking into the medbay when you catch up, so you stick your hand in front of the sensor to force the doors back open.

It’s the girl whose name you couldn’t remember on the Mandalorian’s first night. Sessa. She startles and whirls around when she hears you, hand pressed to her chest.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you," you say quietly.

She looks at you for a moment, something hauntingly empty in her eyes before she seems to recognize you. She covers her face with her hands.

“Please,” you whisper. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I—” her voice breaks, and you step closer, offering an embrace she folds into.

You don’t say anything. What could you? That you’re sorry? She knows. That it’ll be okay? It won’t. It’s horrible, she doesn’t deserve it, it’s inhumane, but none of those things will help her. She knows.

She doesn’t even really cry. It aches, but the tears don’t come, just the soft prickle of numbness. She’ll survive this, you think. She shouldn’t have to, but she will.

When the time for softness has faded, you let her pull back, and she lets you assess her. She sits on the counter with an ice pack to her cheek and drinks the tea you press into her hand. Her nose wrinkles at the bitter taste, but the tincture within is worth it. A reassurance. Nothing will come of this that she can’t bear.

When she leaves, she hugs you again, and you stay behind in the dark room, leaning against the counter with your arms folded over your chest.

It wasn’t a secret, what happened here. It didn’t always; a lot of the fighters are honorable people. But sometimes… sometimes this life warps the psyche beyond repair. Sometimes, desperate people do desperate things. Become something terrible to survive.

You just hadn’t been witness to the cruelty before.

When you go back, Mando is still awake. Waiting, you think.

“Is she—” he hesitates. He doesn’t want to ask if she’s okay, because the answer is no. It’s not really what he’s asking, anyway.

You nod, lips pursed tight. She’ll live, your silence says. And it’ll have to be enough.

It’s strange. Waking in his cell but rising to follow your old habits anyway. He gets served first, and then you take breakfast down to Cresh as if nothing has changed. Except you can’t linger, you can’t chat and learn of them as you used to. You have to return to the Mandalorian.

It’s strange for the both of you. Your time is usually spent busy or with the other servants. His time is usually spent alone. He doesn’t have a fight that first day and so you are forced to learn to navigate one another.

The gate between you remains closed.

He does push-ups while you fold laundry, executes a series of jumps that cycle between laying on the floor and springing to his feet that exhaust you just to see from the corner of your eye while you clean, and balances on his hands—one and both—while you flip through the agenda on your datapad and try not to be caught impressed.

It’s quiet, this life, with neither of you inclined to interrupt the other. You let him know when you phase in and out to attend to your duties and his needs. Otherwise, you don’t really speak until nightfall.

“I’m sorry,” he says in the safety of the dark. “I didn’t know it would create more of a burden for you. I just… couldn’t trust anyone else.”

“It’s not a burden, just a change. I understand,” you say softly.

He sighs, an edge of frustration biting. “I disrupted your routine.”

You snort. “So?”

“I separated you from your friends.”

You sigh. “Will it make you feel better if I pretend to be mad?”

“Why aren’t you?”

You sit up on your cot. “Nothing about this life is fair, and it’s all temporary. Everyone leaves, one way or another. Everything shifts. This is just another phase of my time here, and there’s no point in being upset about it.”

He lets it sit for a minute. “How long have you been here?”

“Three years. I have just under two left.”

The weight of the time is not lost on him, and you can see the hint of a grim smile. “You haven’t let it break you.”

You return the smile. “Not yet.”

He reclines against the wall, legs sprawled and dangling over the side of his bed. “For what it’s worth, I truly am sorry. It was a selfish thing for me to ask of you.”

“I’m glad you’re not alone.” You mean it. It may have disrupted what you knew before, but getting moved here did the same for him. And it took away his opportunity to talk to others. “I’m glad you trust me with this.”

He sighs, bittersweet. “Me too.”

Something shifts, then, that you’re grateful for. The guilt and awkwardness dissipate and leave behind that budding comradery you had started to forge together. A sense of peace.

It’s one of the better nights of sleep you’ve had in a long time.

You’ve never been in the stands before, let alone in the box. Though it’s exposed to the open sun, the vents wash it in cool air, unlike the curved benches where the crowds jeer and hiss.

No, up here in the sponsor box, surrounded by the important and the rich, you’re considered fortunate. The Mandalorian’s sponsor is late, but you’re in place. While he waits for battle, your services shift to her.

“You’re still here,” the Madame says as she approaches her seat.

You stand to the side, stiff and silent, until she draws near. “Yes, Madame.”

She gives you an appraising once-over. “Good.” Her voice is as sharp as her eyes, and she settles to watch.

You don’t really know the protocol here. Your days serving in the lounge were passed silently, circling the room with a loaded tray. Here, you’re meant to cater to her alone.

She doesn’t speak to you, though. Doesn’t acknowledge you. She lounges, coiled and elegant, like a tree viper.

You don’t want to watch the fights. You don’t. But you know, now, that you must. You owe it to the barrack caretakers; you can’t leave this responsibility to the other attendants alone. You all bear the burden together.

When the first fight ends in a double loss, both fighters fatally wounded, you know you’re not strong enough for this. The nausea rises until all you smell is blood, a phantom sense as the sand turns red beneath each pair’s feet. You’re shaking and all you can think is how glad you are not to have to hold a tray of glasses.

And then it’s time.

The Madame sits up, focused, and you know. Teeth dig into the soft flesh of your cheek to hold your breath steady and shallow. Quiet as possible, as if you need to strain to hear what’s playing out in front of you.

And you think, he should not be caged, for he is power and beauty and ferociousness. You can see why his people followed him to death. He is death.

His opponent lands exactly one strike, and you almost think the Mandalorian allowed it. Like he was gauging the strength and will. He prowls, teeth bloodied and bared, a snarl natural in the set of his lips. You think it’s laid in beskar steel, a scar you can’t smooth out into the soft curve of a smile.

No, that’s been stolen from him, too.

He asks his opponent’s name, and you think he’s carving it into his ribcage, so each time he breathes, it impresses upon his lungs.

When he moves, it’s calculated. Like the arena is a map he’s plotting, each strike or dodge choreographed and steadfast. There are no weapons today, just fists, and though his opponent has the advantage of razor-sharp teeth, they never even come close to slicing him open.

And then it’s over. The Mandalorian’s broad hands dwarf the other fighter’s jaw as he secures his grip and snaps. The body falls limp and the Mandalorian sneers at the crowd before he looks up.

There’s no way he can see you, but it feels like it. It feels like he sees you there, and doesn’t find what he was afraid of.

He’s not in the room when you get back down, and you pre-set his towels and clean clothes, so you won’t need to go hunting them down if he wants to shower. It’s still mid-afternoon, and you’re buzzing with the leftover cocktail of adrenaline and cortisol when he comes back.

Neither of you speaks at first as he goes into his half of the cell and cracks his knuckles, sighing deeply once the main doors are shut.

“Are you okay?” he says.

You’re surprised until you realize you shouldn’t be. He knows how weak you are. “Yeah,” you say.

“Are you afraid of me now?” he says quietly, not looking at you.

Oh. You get up and come closer to the gate. “No. I’m not.”

He meets your eyes and must find the truth in them, nodding grimly. “So what did you think?”

“Why do they have you fight with a shirt on?”

His eyes widen. “What?”

“Well, it’s just, they usually—um.”

“What?”

“They usually make the more attractive fighters wear as little as possible. You know. To appeal to the crowds.”

Huh. He thought it was a choice made by the few he’d seen showing skin. And then he can’t help it. You won’t look him in the eye, and he can’t resist. “You think I’m one of the more attractive fighters?” he teases.

Your cheeks burn, and you look very seriously at the ground. “I—I mean like, um, objectively—“

He spares you. “It’s because of my tattoos. They don’t want me out there covered in Mandalorian symbology.”

“Oh,” you say, imagination kicking off. “Can I—I’m sorry, that’s so inappropriate of me. I just… like… art.” It sounds so stupid and crude, but you mean it.

“I’ll show you when I’m clean,” he says with a shrug.

He always seems to understand. It’s a comfort you’ve never known before.

When he gets out of the fresher, though, you realize you have severely overestimated yourself. Because your first thought when he steps into his room is fuck. He’s big. You know he’s big. And broad. But without a shirt on? Stars. And he’s still a little wet, his crumpled curls dripping down his shoulders.

You have got to get yourself under control. You’re pretty sure you’ve already been busted, though, because he’s suddenly looking at you, something a little dark in the lines of his face, and you feel flayed under his disapproval.

Your brain reboots in time to recover, though, as you really do take in the way his skin is bathed in black ink. A lot of it is abstract, sharp angles and curving arcs intertwining with constellations and letters in a language you don’t recognize. Some of it almost looks like smears of paint, the ink laid across his body in a manner so akin to brushstrokes that the craftsmanship is breathtaking.

But there are a few pieces that differ, ones that stand out against the intricate patterns. You realize you’ve stepped up to the gate once he does the same.

“These are incredible,” you say. “How long did this take?” You nod at the swirl of ink on his bicep that wouldn’t look out of place in your own work.

“A very long time,” he says.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. What was your first one?”

He turns around, and you’re struck by the mythosaur skull that takes up most of his back. It’s almost shimmering.

“The ink…” you start.

He turns back around. “It’s imbued with beskar.”

Your jaw drops. “It’s what?”

“It’s—I’m going to be honest, I don’t fully understand the process. But we use a small amount of molten beskar in the ink for certain tattoos. These have it, too.” He indicates the two on his front that had stood out from the rest.

“Do you mind if I ask what they are? Why they’re the ones that use beskar?”

“No,” he says casually. “They’re things that I should never be without, parts of my armor that can never be fully taken. This,” he taps the diamond-esque design on his chest, “is a beskar’ta. Every Mandalorian has one. It’s the heart.”

You’re staring, unashamed, as he indicates the other glimmering mark on his shoulder.

“This is a mudhorn, the symbol of my clan. Someday, my son will have the same one. He’s too young. Or, well. He’s…” he pauses like he can’t decide if he wants to get into this. “He’s not ready yet.”

“So… so you always have it with you. Your armor. The beskar.”

“Yes. Not everyone gets them, but many do.”

“That’s beautiful.” You’re a little speechless. Not just from the beauty of the art but the sheer idea. “That’s…”

“You can see why Gideon doesn’t want them to be seen.”

“Yeah,” you say, a small scoff slipping out. “No kidding.”

You step back, and he tugs on his shirt, ruffling his still-damp hair like nothing world-shattering has happened. And yet, the room seems to have tilted and knocked you to the side, the shift undeniable.

You don’t realize why until you remember the look on his face when he caught you staring the first time. It wasn’t discomfort. It was hunger.

It’s not a tension, exactly, that settles between you. It’s more like an acknowledgment. Something is going to change. It’s just a matter of when. And it lingers in the air for weeks.

It happens, like almost all things here, in the wake of fear.

You return to the cell before him, having fled the box as soon as his narrowest victory was called. Not that it gave you much of a head start, but you had time to grab a medpack and fresh clothes before they brought him in.

He never uses the arena freshers anymore, not even just to wash away the sticky, fresh blood. No, he’s still quite coated in it when the door snicks shut behind him, his face gaunt and haunted.

You think, at first, that he was afraid to die.

Who moves first is irrelevant. Your only focal point in the galaxy is the way he feels pressed right against you, fingers digging into your soft flesh like he’s trying to pull you into his ribcage as you embrace.

You’re not being much gentler, clinging on as you shake with unshed tears.

He lets go of your waist to clutch your face in his bloody hands. “Promise me you won’t watch.”

“What?” you say, rearing your head back to look at his furrowed brows and pouted lips.

“Don’t watch. When it happens. I don’t want you to have to see.”

Oh. “Stop,” you whisper, but he’s shaking his head.

“It’s all I could think about. Look away, and don’t find out what they do with my body. Promise me, kar’talyc.”

All that comes out is a sob when you try to argue.

His hand cups the back of your head, and he pulls you against his still-soaked chest.

Once you’ve settled a little, he pulls back but leaves his hands on your shoulders. “Promise.”

“Mando—“

“Din.”

You blink at him for a moment. “What?”

“My name is Din.”

next chapter

*Din calls her kar'talyc, which basically means "bleeding heart" (from kar'ta, meaning "heart," and talyc, meaning "bloody.") He's been calling her that in his head since the last chapter.

*tattooed Din and his mythosaur were inspired by this art by @xxlumos

*title from "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" by Tears for Fears, but I listened to the Lorde version while writing this and highly recommend it for the vibes. The original is quite a different mood lol.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #mando x you #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian fic #gladiator!din djarin #fic: live to rise

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pascallllllll1 · 2 years ago

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The Happiest Place On Earth

Request: “Hi can I request a one shot where reader and Pedro Pascal have a daughter named Esmeralda? They go to Disney for the first time, they dress her up in a Grogu costume and go visit the Mando and everybody go crazy to see Pedro and his daughter.”

Pedro Pascal x Reader

Summary: follows the request above, I also made reader pregnant. Lots of fluff. Esmeralda’s age wasn’t specified so I made her like 4/5?

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: pregnancy, suggests smut but no actual smut.

Packing the last of the necessary items you’ll need for the day ahead in your backpack, you zip up the bag and readily set it by the front door of your room. Esmeralda had specifically requested that daddy book her in the fairytale suite so she could get her beauty rest like a real princess and being wrapped around her tiny finger Pedro went online later that day to book said room. The room your growing family of three is currently getting ready in. Cressessing your small bump you cross the room approaching your struggling husband who’s trying to fight your five year old into putting sunscreen on.

“NO DADDY!” She screeches, resisting his best efforts to apply the cream to her face and ears.

“Princesa please, the quicker we finish this up the sooner we can leave and check out all the cool stuff.” He attempts to reason with her. Stubborn times such as this one remind you exactly how alike you both are, your living breathing karma of what you put your own parents through. You decide to throw Pedro a bone and come to his long awaited rescue. You fake gasp obnoxiously loud to catch your daughters attention;

“Oh. My. Gosh. Guess who I just found out is here?!” You ask Esmeralda dramatically, squatting eye level with her. Pedro laughs and moves over to make room for you next to him.

“Who?!” She asks, eyes widening in excitement.

“Grogu and Mando!!” You exclaim jumping up and bouncing around. Esmeralda screams at the information and launches herself forward tacking Pedro with a huff.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US DADDY!!!!”

“Careful,” You playfully chastise her. “Daddy’s getting old can’t be as rough with him or he’ll break on us.” You joke causing Esmeralda to throw her head back and fall over sideways exaggeratedly in a fit of laughter.

“I was gonna say sorry and give you your surprise mi hija but not if you two meanies are ganging up on me!” He pouts.

“Aw I’m sorry baby.” You coo, coming up to him to cup his face and kissing the patchy bald spot you love oh so much on his scruffy jaw.

“I promise to make you feel better later.” You whisper low enough for his ears only. Pedro closes his eyes and groans at your hidden meaning before standing to his full height and making his way over to his bag to dig for Esmeralda’s surprise. When he returns she’s waiting patiently trying to get a peak at plastic wrapped, outfit? tucked behind his back.

“IT’S A GROGU COSTUME!!!!!—“

“Wowww, inside voice please! I know it’s very exciting hun but there’s other people in the building.-“ He leans forward swooping Esmeralda up in his arms so she could further inspect the outfit.

“Sorry, daddy.”

“Thank you for apologising hun, it’s alright.” God he’s so patient and caring with her. Every time you witness this paternal side of Pedro feels like a gift. You really are the luckiest woman in the world blessed with the most loving, doting husband who excels at fatherhood beyond your wildest dreams and taking to it like a fish to water. This is it. Everything you’ve ever wished for is currently giggling to each other while dressing in the adorable costume. Your beautiful family, that soon but not nearly soon enough your baby boy will be joining.

“What do you think mommy, am I pretty?” Esmeralda asks, twirling around in a circle on one foot then posing with her hands on her hips. The large floppy green ears bounce and swing with every movement, she’s drowning in the baggy brown fabric of the robe, her bright pink converse sneakers peeking out from underneath, and wears a smile that says she’s never been happier.

“I think you look gorgeous baby, right daddy?” You ask teasingly, trying but ultimately failing to hold back a smirk. He crosses his arms and huffs. He’ll get you back for all your teasing later.

“Si te ves muy hermosa hija.” Pedro confirms smiling.

***

You follow and observe from behind while pushing Esmeralda’s wagon stroller as she leads your husband hand in hand through the bustling crowds towards the Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge attractions.

“Where would you like to go first, sweet girl?” Pedro asks, drawing Esmeralda’s wandering gaze to himself.

“I wanna make a lightsaber!!” She exclaims jumping up and down, her big ears slapping her face as she does causing both you and Pedro to laugh.

“Of course, let’s go head over there to… Black Spire Outpost.” He says pointing at the entrance of the workshop.

While Pedro pays for Esmeralda to do the activity you stand with your daughter admiring the beautifully staged rock cavern you're in. You’ve always loved and appreciated the Star Wars universe and its beauty. So many people and stories to explore within it that could continue going on infinitely. A warmth blossoms in your chest thinking about Pedro getting to be a part of that. He’d introduced everyone to a new character and without facial expression, only body language and tone of voice showed us the many layers and personality of The Mandalorian, Din Djarin. You are so insanely proud of him.

A kiss on your cheek and a hand drawing small circles on your belly brings you back to the present.

“Ok we’re all set, vamos!” Pedro announces giddily to which is met by loud cheers from your daughter.

The group you're with is small, usually that’s a positive but at the moment with such few faces amongst everyone to look at, your husbands very pretty and recognizable one is just that, more recognizable. You meet one of Savi’s Gatherers outside his workshop and Esmeralda chooses between four different hilts to build her lightsaber with, all having a different theme. Peace and Justice. Power and Control. Element Nature. Protection Defence. After hard consideration she diligently comes to the conclusion of choosing the Element Nature hilt which embodies the force, but mainly because she thought it was the coolest looking.

Next for the activity Esmeralda gets to choose a Kyber crystal, picking between red, blue, green and violet she confidently swipes the violet crystal.

“Now we get to put it together mommy!” She says smiling up at you with her crystal on display then runs to assemble the lightsaber with the help of her father. The process of putting everything together thankfully didn’t take long and in no time Esmeralda was wielding a blade of her own. By now you could feel the stares from those around you multiplying and you grab Pedro’s hand to signal his attention;

“Baby I think people are starting to notice who you are.” You speak quietly into his ear, playing it off like a playful kiss. He glances around inconspicuously and realises you’re right.

“Hey princesa, how ‘bout we go find some snacks, daddy’s getting hungry. Sound good babe?” He turns his head patiently waiting for confirmation from you. You peck his lips and respond with a, sounds good, and move to start making your way to the cantina cafe.

***

“Hi! could I get three small blue milks.. two roasted pork wrap Ronto Roasters and.. one grilled sausage, please!” You smile up at the cashier, she confirms your order and you tap your card on the scanner to pay then move closer to your family while you wait.

“Three small blue mills!” You grab your drinks thanking the worker and pass Esmeralda her own. She’s off in her own little world enthralled by the new strange drink.

“Babe,” Pedro says, getting your attention, then thanking you when you hand him his cup. You look up at him, eyebrows raising in question.

“People are starting to take photos and record, it’s only a matter of time before they start coming up to me-“

“-Two roasted pork wraps and one grilled sausage wrap!” Pedro sighs, moving over to grab the food, smiling at and thanking the worker again. He passes the food out and Esmeralda continues to zone out of yours and Pedro’s conversation and focus on the food set in front of her.

“How about you and Esmeralda finish up here and head towards a gift shop, I know she wants to grab some stuff for home. I’ll go use the washroom and walking around alone gives the fans some time to approach me without interfering with family time. I’ll come meet up with you both after a few photos.”

“Works with me.” You agree, smiling.

“Esmeralda, you wanna go space shopping while daddy goes pee?” The question has her snapping her head up at you and rushing to clean up her mess from eating.

“Ya! Ya! Let’s go, mommy!” She reaches for your hand not being used to push the stroller to hold and moves to leave, yelling over her shoulder to her dad;

“Don’t pee your pants, daddy! Mommy won’t be there to clean you up!” Pedro lets out an obnoxiously loud belly laugh that makes you giggle back at him before letting your daughter pull you down the path towards the promise of toys. After you and Esmeralda leave Pedro unwrap his food and scarfs it down quickly on his way to the washroom.

Esmeralda spends 20 minutes sorting through the many different options to bring home with her in Dok-Ondar’s Den of Antiquities. By the time the two of you make it up to the cash register she’s piling shirts, stuffies, one lanyard, a handful of pins and a few toys onto the checkout counter. When you paid the outrageous cost for her small hoard of items you tried to reason with yourself that it was Esmeralda’s first trip to Disney, special occasion means special treatment, right? As you’re walking out of the shop you spot Pedro finishing up with some fans a few feet ahead of you. Immediately, Esmeralda spots her daddy and is rushing over to him and jumping up into his arms.

“Daddy! I wanna show you all my new toys!” The group of people now forming around Pedro laugh and gush over your precious daughter, commenting on how much she resembles him. Esmeralda, like her father, soaks up with attention like a sponge and loves every second of it. As far as she’s concerned this group of people are for her and not her father. They all adore her Grogu outfit and one person tells Pedro he should’ve dressed as Mando to match.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet all of you and I’m sorry I can’t stick around longer but I have to get back to my family now. Everyone have a good time and enjoy yourselves!“ Pedro waves and smiles to everyone, carrying Esmeralda back over to you and continuing on in a new direction.

“How was that?” You ask him curiously. He turns to you and huffs out a breath;

“Good. I love getting to meet and interact with my fans, I wouldn’t be anywhere without their support. But sometimes I wish I could draw that line of time and place a little more clearly to them, ya know.” He shares with you. You nod in agreement and wrap an arm around his waist to comfort him.

“Yeah, I get it.” You say staring up at him. He leans down and softly kisses your lips letting them hover after.

“Ew! No kissing!” Esmeralda gasps grossed out before falling into a fit of laughter. Pedro attacks your face in kisses to bug her more and all you can do is laugh and enjoy this time with your family.

“Ok! Ok! Ah, ok!! Let’s go check out something else, huh?” You question both the Pascal’s before you.

“Falcon one next!”

“To the Millennium Falcon, vamos mi familia!!!” Pedro shouts with a loud clap of his hands.

The three of you spent the rest of the day exploring the galaxy via rides and interactive activities, gorging yourselves on as many sweet treats as your bodies could handle. Later that night you’d reward your husband and show him how much you appreciated what a perfect father and spouse he was. Meanwhile twitter and Instagram would become flooded with photos of your family adventuring Disney, Esmeralda as Grogu causing fans to go wild.

Open to requests!!

#pedro pascal #the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction

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sofasoap · 2 years ago

Text

Nightmare

Pairing : Din Djarin x GN!Reader + Grogu

Summary: Din's biggest nightmare is losing his family, his clan, losing you.

kind of set after Grogu comes back from Jedi training, and let's just pretend Din still got Razor Crest or bought a similar size ship. Starfighter is just too.... SMALL! Warning: M rating ,strong languages. English is my 2nd language, not beta'ed either, so I apologise for any mistakes. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Please don't enter if you are under 18 or of legal age in your country and turn around NOW. minors DNI. A/N: For @deakyjoe again. I promised her if she did her Uni work I will write something lol. Here it is.

MASTERLIST

"I am leaving." Din's hand froze. He slowly look up from the blaster he was cleaning. " I don't think I can do this anymore Mando." Shaking your head. " I am sick of this... fighting, and this, " waving your hands around, " I am sick of being trapped inside all the time, in this enclosed space." His hands start to shake. He open his mouth, but no sound is coming out.

"I want to settle down... not hiding from the enemy all the time, and this is not a good environment to bring up the younglings!" Turning towards your cot, you pick up your bag and started stuffing your belongs into it.

"And this bullshit of creed, not showing your face, and Oh, they ditch you even though you are the holder of darksaber just because you showed your face to outsider?" You rolled your eyes.

Din try to argue, still, he couldn't make a sound. As if someone has taken his voice away from him.

" So you got nothing to say to me Mando? Not even going to try and persuade me?" Sighing as you walk past him, picking up Grogu as you head out of the ship. " I am taking Grogu with me. I hope this is the last time I see you, DIN DJARIN." You spatted out his name, not even looking back and walked off into the forest.

Din screamed as he sat up from his bunk. Sweat completely drenching his body. Totally disorientate he turn on the night light beside his head and look around. It's too quiet. Usually he hears sounds of you walking around the ship, doing chores or fixing things, or little cooing sound of Grogu, and you telling him off for being a mischief. The fear surface again, was that nightmare real?? and I am just replaying the episode again and again in my mind ? Quickly donning his helmet, not even bothering with rest of his armour, he stepped out from his tiny bunker. No one in the cargo area, refresher empty. Climbing up towards the cockpit, not a trace of you two.

Lastly checking your bunk space, blanket folded neatly, your bag is missing. Din feel likes he was about to have a breakdown. He couldn't imagine his life without you. Without the little Munchkin. His clan of three. He hasn't even confess his feeling to you yet. Rushing to putting his armour on, he set out to find you two. Guessing you two haven't made it too far, there is still a chance. Just as he was about to step out, the cargo hold landing door opened up. And there's you, with his son tucked away in one of the bag, holding some sort of sweet pastry in his hand, and your backpack on your back and another satchel full of groceries and supplies. The two of you were giggling and laughing, as if sharing a joke. " OH! Mando, you are awake!" You greeted to him as you spotted him standing by the entrance. Din rush up towards you, pull you into an embrace. " Mando...are you OK?" You still haven't change your habit of calling him Mando. Even though you heard his real name already through Moff Gideon. You thought Din haven't given you the permission to use his name, you will stick with calling him Mando. Letting out a shaky breath. " Where did you guys go?" " We went out for supply run, it was such a good weather and you mention this area and town is relatively safe... So I thought I take Grogu for a stroll." putting down one of the side satchel and Grogu force jumped out from the bag. "Sorry I didn't wake you up. You were in such a deep sleep and you haven't had a good rest for last few weeks.. So I thought I'll let you be." You replied apologetically and gave him a squeeze. " Come on. I bought some of your favourite fruits. Turns out they had a very good harvest this year on this planet. I can make them into ration bar and preserves, so you won't need to hunt for them for a long time." You smiled at him. Just as you about to turn away and head back into the ship, Din moved his hand, cupping your face and pull you head in, lightly touching his forehead. "Man.. Mando?" Your face heating up. "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Cyare..." He whispered back. You closed your eyes. Enjoying this intimate moment. "That's a new word...what does it mean Mando?" " I'll tell you one day... not now.. but one day."

"....and please.. call me Din." ".. Din." The sound of his name , so sweet and loving coming out from your mouth. Din felt someone tugging his pants and little coo sound. " I think he feels left out." You laughed. Din let go of you, bending down to pick his son up and gave him a little knock forehead to forehead.

" Come on, let's go help your buir to put away the groceries." Din commented. " that's ANOTHER new word Din... what does it mean? You got to start teaching me some Mando'a soon.. otherwise I would think you two are talking behind my back! " You said half jokingly. ".. It means parent." You raised your eyebrow as he explain it to you. You stood there for a moment as the two boys walk up the plank back into the ship. Took you few second to understand the implication, his words, and his action from before. Your heart flutters. Maybe.. Just maybe? That little hope and desire you have tucked away starting to rise.

".. I thought you two left me.. " " Never Din... We will never leave you. I will never leave you. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. "

I know its a common joke and meme how he is technically the holder of Darksaber and they just flick him away like that.. unless they come up with a good reason.. to me it's just a major plot hole. Thank you for reading, liking and reblogs!

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin imagine #the mandarlorian

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memoriapraeteritorumbonorum · 1 year ago

Note

Honey, I love your hc! OK I need another set of the Noticing You've Picked Up Their Mannerisms but with Tyelko and also Glorfindel! Please and also thank you in advance! 💚💚💚

Noticing you’ve picked up their mannerisms - Celegorm and Glorfindel

Author’s note: A bit late but here it is! Enjoy queen💅🏽

Celegorm

Ever since he was little, Tyelkormo has had the habit of persuading others with a specific move whenever he was about to do something he wasn’t supposed to be doing

He told you about it once, and you had burst out laughing because you simply couldn’t imagine him acting this way, since he was usually the one receiving the compliments — why would he need to turn it around?

It had all started as a joke, when he had asked his mother permission to follow his older brothers into the woods past sunset to go bird watching

Nerdanel, however, had denied her then youngest child and that was when little Tyelko had found out that his silver tongue could get him anywhere

You didn’t believe him when he had told you about this sneaky tactic of his, but then remembered how many times he had persuaded you to do certain things or turn a blind eye on what he was doing

Usually, he would have no problem with you doing your thing but today, you really wanted to practice sparring with the Ambarussar who were insisting you brought their brother’s precious longsword

You knew he wouldn’t allow it, since that weapon meant a lot to him it’s basically an extension of his ego but you decided to give it a try

So when you enter his room, ask nicely and end up getting rejected, you gently hug him from behind and tell him how much you would appreciate it, how he had such a generous heart and how his sword would be the only worthy weapon yadayadayada

Basically you’re sucking up to him like a champ, touch his biceps while you’re at it

Someone with an ego like that simply can’t resist a beautiful person complimenting him right?

“I suppose I could- hey!” He frees himself from your sensual grip and stares at you with wide eyes, a surprised, playful grin spreading across his face seconds later “I don’t believe it, using my own evil ways against me,” he muses in disbelief, feline eyes twinkling mischievously

You feign shock, mockingly placing your hand on your heart “Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

A for effort queen

Nevertheless, Tyelko is impressed. You almost tricked him! That deserves a reward

But now he’s staring at you through the window, hawk eyes watching his precious sword in your nervous hands — performance anxiety incoming

And be prepared to be charmed when you return

Glorfindel

This one is bittersweet

When he first returned from the Halls of Mandos, Glorfindel wore his hair in a single braid, never once letting it down like he used to ages ago

You know it was because of his last battle, and you also know that it had taken him a long time to overcome the habit of putting his golden tresses into a braid whenever he was about to leave his chambers

It just made him feel safer

You’ve seen him do it countless times. You’d wake up to him sitting on the edge of the bed, hands quickly working to weave a specific pattern into the braid

You hardly put your hair up, the sole reason being you preferred it down

But today was rather windy and you’ve been running around with hair blowing all over the place, blocking your view, tangling itself in your jewellery and tickling your face and neck constantly

Glorfindel is at your side, helping you pick some seasonal herbs for you to dry and press later this evening when a lock of your hair blows in his face, making him scrunch his nose

You laugh, gently pulling it back and begin to complain about the windy weather while your hands simultaneously start gathering the hair and braiding it in his unique style

He’s stunned and just watches you without really listening to you talk — that braid looks awfully familiar

The way your hands subconsciously move just like his astounds him

“Wait, Y/N, let me see,” he softly turns your head to the side to admire the intricate pattern worked into your braid, you literally copied each and every one of his techniques flawlessly

For some reason he feels emotional, knowing that this braid emerged from a deep wound within, and now his beloved is wearing it with a smile on their face

In a way, he feels proud to have had such an impact on you — a person who never really braids their hair in the first place

“What is it?” you ask before connecting the dots “I didn’t realize!” Your hand flies up to touch the back only to be met with his already caressing your hair in awe

“It looks beautiful on you,” he sighs, gently laying the braid across your shoulder

In that moment, Glorfindel feels closer to you than ever

He sees your love in that braid, his story coming into contact with yours and creating something wonderful

You make a mental note to wear your hair like this more often just to see the wistful expression on his face

He doesn’t talk about his last battle very often, but you feel like you got a bit closer to him today

And he feels it too, he’s already contemplating how to share more of his past with you, step by step :)

#celegorm #celegorm imagine #celegorm headcanon #celegorm x reader #tyelkormo #glorfindel #glorfindel imagine #glorfindel headcanon #glorfindel x reader #request

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baddybaddyadardaddy · 3 months ago

Note

Thinking about your response to the most recent eye-contact anon has me thinking… Adar would probably go a little insane in an environment where he wasn’t in a position to do anything or enact his usual behaviours of care/order.

Not sure if Mandos operates this way, but imagine:

Dinner? Made by someone else and served.

Dishes? Also taken care of.

Laundry? Don’t worry about it.

Some attendant tries to get Adar to sit down, put his feet up, get some cucumber slices on those eyes. Meanwhile he’s just internally screaming.

bahahahahaha yeah i think Adar would be COMPLETELY unnerved by... really anything that remotely feels like someone taking care of him in any way.

i feel like he's spent his ENTIRE existence just taking care of his kids, putting them first, providing for them. he's self-sufficient AF.

i could actually see (assuming Adar was allowed to leave Mandos) the Valar like, court-mandating him to spend time on Estë's little island to heal... and yeah, i feel like her maiar would take care of EVERYTHING and Adar would just be... bouncing off the walls.

And Estë NEVER loses her temper with anyone, but finally she just has to grab this poor uruk, shake him by the collar and tell him to PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF ERU, SIT DOWN AND DO A MUD MASK OR SOMETHING BECAUSE IT IS RELAXATION TIME ON THE ISLAND AND HE'S RUINING THE VIBE.

#adar #adar asks #adar headcanons #este #i think maybe finally she gives up and calls irmo so that he can just send this guy off to dreamland so he'll finally REST #adar and este would actually be a delightful lil fic to write #perhaps someday...#unless someone wants to run with it #i've seen a lot of adar and nienna (and written it myself) but not so much este?#anyway rambling

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kaminocasey · 2 years ago

Text

Joyride Part 2

Summary: Can you talk your way out of trouble or are you going to go head to head with Cad Bane? Will you get that shower with Hunter that he promised???

Pairing: Hunter x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Smut, Angst, Unprotected P in V (wrap it up friends), shower sex, Fluff AND Smut AT THE SAME TIME???? Romantic!Hunter.

WC: 4.5K

A/N: Sorry this took a hot ass minute. I hope I made up for it though. I've been thinking about this man literally NONSTOP.

Part One │ Taglist Form

Six months ago.

“Kriff… There’s no way out…” Hunter grunts, shining his flashlight throughout the room.

You put your hand up to shield your eyes as he shines it in your direction, turning around and then notice something you’d all missed.

“If there’s no way out of this building, then where are they headed?” You ask Hunter as you nod toward the large womp rats scurrying through the room behind some crates.

You quickly walk over and start pushing them out of the way, Wrecker quickly coming to move the heavier ones for you. You smile up at the large man, pleased, when you find a large enough opening that’s definitely going to be your way out.

“What, do you want a cookie?” Hunter asks and you shoot him a glare.

“Asshole.” You mumble under your breath, knowing he can hear you anyway.

“Ignoring that.” He whispers in your ear, as he walks past to inspect the opening.

You ignore the slight warmth that runs from head to toe from his low, gruff voice. Ugh. Hunter truly irritates you so much, it's a wonder either of you get anything done.

“Let’s get moving.” Hunter tells the group and once everyone goes through the opening down into some sort of sewer system, Hunter offers his hand to help you down, tilting his helmet at you.

You bat his hand away and jump. But you can’t help but wonder what his hand would feel like in yours.

Present, Lower Levels of Coruscant

“If you touch her, I will rip your throat out.” Hunter’s voice brings you back to the present. You’re still on the garage floor, you realize, your muscles still not strong enough to pull you up just yet. When you try to open your eyes, you feel a cool finger trace down your bare neck and you understand now that Hunter was speaking to whoever the owner of the finger was.

“I told you, one wrong move and I’ll blast her, didn’t I?” A low drawled voice speaks, evenly and calmly. “Now, you’re going to tell me where Cid is and I’m gonna let this pretty little thing go and then you two can be on your way.”

You know that voice… And with knowing that voice, you know you’ve met your match.

Cad Bane… Of course. Why not make your life harder? Maker, you really hate being stunned.

“Nevarro.” You finally open your eyes, looking up at him. “She’s on Nevarro.”

“Ah, little lady’s awake.” Cad Bane pulls you up by your dress strap and Hunter struggles against the two men holding him back.

“Relax.” You whisper quiet enough that Cad can’t hear you but you know that Hunter can.

He stops struggling and settles, looking at you with an expression of concern.

“Proof?” Cad asks.

“She’s making a trade deal with Arua Stullie. Something about Imperial weaponry.” You lie as coolly as you can.

“And what does Arua Stullie want with Imperial weapons?” Cad holds the blaster to your neck and Hunter looks like he’s seriously about to run for Bane and rip his teeth out.

You’ve never seen Hunter look so furious. Hunter isn’t a good liar though. It’s definitely one of his biggest flaws. In fact, none of the Batch are good at lying. Almost humorously so. Except right now.

Lucky for you, Cid taught you how to lie, steal, cheat, gamble, etc. Basically anything that a morally good person wouldn’t do, you were taught the opposite.

“Arua’s planning an attack on some Imperial vessel. Cid came into the weapons yesterday from some rogue Mandos. Don’t know much more than that.” You shrug, keeping your voice steady.

“That true, handsome?” Cad asks Hunter.

Hunter nods, still glaring, and Cad’s quiet for a moment before letting your dress strap go and dropping you to the floor.

“Alright. I believe you.” Cad sighs. “You can go.”

“Wow, thanks so much for your incredible hospitality.” You glare up at him as Hunter rushes to you.

“Next time you plan on crossing my path, don’t.” Cad warns you.

It’s not that you’re necessarily afraid of Cad Bane. He’s just serious about his money and you probably should count yourself lucky that he let you go.

“Yeah, no worries.” You grunt.

Cad and whoever these thugs are make out like bandits and Hunter looks at you for a moment, searching your eyes as he gently cups your face. His hands are so warm against your skin. Or maybe your cheeks are warm from the way he’s looking at you so softly right now.

“Are you alright?” He whispers.

You nod. “I’m fine.”

“You ever lie to me like that?” He smirks. “You’re scarily good at it.”

“Not necessarily.” You grin and he rests his forehead against yours. “I have no reason to lie to you, sarge.”

When he stands up, he helps you up and then leads you into the Marauder, shutting the hatch and locking it. You look at him curiously as he guides you back toward the shower.

“You’re so brave, it never ceases to amaze me.” He pushes you up against the durasteel wall next to the fresher, nuzzling his nose against your neck, breathing you in.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he places a soft kiss to your neck and he lets out a breathy laugh, smiling.

“Can I admit something?” He asks, quietly.

“Of course.” You whisper, afraid if you move, this moment will go away.

“When we’re in tough… or scary… spots on missions, I listen to your heartbeat to calm myself. It’s rarely ever above 65 beats per minute… You’re always so calm in tricky situations.” He admits, pulling away to look at you.

That’s funny because you feel like your heart is beating right out of your chest. “And now?”

You place his hand over your heart and he kisses you. You rest your hand on his neck, pulling him closer as his free hand grips your hip.

“One-ten.” He smiles against your lips.

“Yeah, that checks out.” You laugh.

Hunter grins and then opens the fresher door, pulling you inside.

“Permission to take this off?” He whispers, trailing his fingers down the silk material.

You nod, looking up into his warm brown eyes. “Please.”

He smiles and then turns you around so you’re facing the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror with him behind you.

“Pretty dress, by the way. I regret not telling you that before the casino mishap.” He smirks at you in the reflection of the mirror. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Thanks.” You feel yourself go warm in the face. “Earlier… my dress slid up my thigh a little bit and you walked away.”

“Yeah, I got fucking hard and thought I was gonna lose it…” He whispers in your ear, kissing just below it.

Goosebumps trail down your entire body as his fingers slide your zipper down. He notices as he runs his fingers down your bare back and a full shudder ripples through your body.

“Nervous?” He murmurs. His eyes stare into yours in the mirror.

You shake your head and he lets the fabric fall to the floor.

“And here I was thinking you were a good liar.” He turns you around and lifts you up, sitting you on the sink.

“You caught me.” You whisper, smiling softly.

His lips capture yours again and you moan against his. Hunter’s hands grip your thighs in the most delicious way and you find yourself never wanting him to let go of you.

“Don’t be nervous, cyar’ika. I’ve got you.” He promises you, softly.

“I trust you.” You promise him back.

Trust is a big thing for you. You think he knows that.

“You’re too clothed.” You murmur against his lips. “You’re right.” He agrees, pulling away to unbutton his shirt, revealing his gold chain and the continued skeleton tattoo that travels down his torso, disappearing into his pants.

You gulp loudly, even to your own ears and judging by his smirk as he looks down while undressing, you know he heard it too.

“I knew it.” You gasp when he starts to pull his pants down, revealing the femur tattoo that descends into a fibula tattoo and down to his foot.

“Knew what?” He looks up at you finally, his brown eyes making you go hot all over.

“That the skull tattoo wasn’t just a skull. I figured that it probably-” You start babbling but he cuts you off by crushing his lips to yours.

You moan softly against his lips and he starts to pull your underwear down. The moment they hit the floor, he inhales and grips your thighs roughly.

Oh… he smells you, doesn’t he? Fuck… why is that so hot?

Oh fuck, can he always smell you when you’re-

“You have no idea what you do to me…” His lips find your neck, breaking you out of your thoughts, and then your shoulder, and then he’s pushing you back slightly so his lips can latch onto your pert nipples, begging for attention.

With one hand still gripping your thigh, he reaches into the shower and starts the water. Honestly, you didn’t know the man could multitask so well. The thought makes you chuckle and he lets go of your nipple with a ‘pop’ and looks down at you with a quirked eyebrow.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing.”

He nods, clearly unconvinced, with a mischievous look in his eyes. “Right.”

His hand that was gripping your thigh moves over slightly, down toward your bare warmth and your breath hitches again.

“Hunter.”

“Mmhm?” His fingers slide further down and his eyes are still watchful of yours.

“What are you doing?” You smile softly.

“Tell me what’s funny.” His fingers slide slowly over your wet folds, barely entering you, but enough to make you clench around nothing.

“It was nothing.” You try to tell him, knowing if you tell him the truth, he very well might stop.

“Suddenly… You’re a very,” His finger grazes your clit. “bad liar.”

You whimper, biting your lip, trying to hold out. For what, at this point, you don’t know. What’s he going to give you for telling the truth?

“I was just entertained by your ability to multitask.” You gasp when his thumb presses against your clit harder. “W-with turning on the shower while-”

“Oh.” He chuckles, his eyes darkening. “I can show you other ways I can multitask, cyar’ika.”

Before you can ask him what he means, he pulls you up against him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he picks you up and pulls you into the shower, pushing you against the wall as the water falls over the both of you.

“How about this…” He smiles with a knowing look. “I’m gonna fuck you while I wash your hair and clean you up, so that what happened earlier is out of both of our minds for what I have to show you later.”

“Ah, yes. The surprise.” You smile.

He captures your lips softly this time. “How does that sound?”

“Pretty good, honestly.” You shrug, nonchalantly, making him let out a genuine laugh.

Hunter’s laugh does something catastrophic to both your heart and your core. Have you always been this attracted to him? Suddenly, you find yourself needing to know what his hands feel like while they wash your hair. What his face looks like when he’s caring for you.

Why did you waste so much time arguing and fighting when you could’ve had this the whole time?

Hunter reaches around you, lining himself up with you before pushing in, making you gasp against his lips, loudly. He groans just as loud, if not louder, and you’re suddenly so fucking thankful you’re planets away from the rest of the Batch.

“I want to be buried in you every day.” Hunter admits, his voice full of need and desperation.

To be the cause of that desperation is such a satisfying feeling, you can’t help but smirk, looking down between the two of you where your hips meet.

“Whenever you want it, let me know.” You kiss him again and a low rumble in his throat pulls your attention to his face.

“You can’t just say things like that to me unless you mean it.” He rests his forehead against yours.

“I do mean it, though.” You whisper. “Pull me into this fresher whenever you want and fuck me like you can’t live without this.” You clench around him and his grip on your ass tightens.

“Cyar’ika…” He pulls out slightly only to slam back into you. “That’ll be every day.”

“Then let it be every day. Every night. Every hour. Whenever.” You promise him.

With a final groan, he starts thrusting into you and you swear that you see past all of the stars in the Galaxy. This angle is something else entirely, something you’ve never had and don’t think you can live without ever again.

“So fucking good.” You whisper between pants and whimpers, the sound of skin against skin filling the small fresher so much it’s making you wetter than before.

When his hips slow against yours, you look at him, confused, and he chuckles, pulling your shampoo down out of the net that everyone keeps their shower stuff in so that it doesn’t get thrown around while on intense missions.

“Oh, you were serious.” You laugh.

“Dead serious.” Hunter keeps one hand ahold of you, and you genuinely didn’t know he was so strong.

He flips up the cap and pours the shampoo over your head a bit, the aroma of fresh fruit filling both of your noses. He closes his eyes, clearly enjoying the scent as he caps the bottle shut and puts it back. When he opens his eyes, he starts gently thrusting while simultaneously massaging the shampoo into your hair.

“This… is new.” You smile, softly.

“Good new?”

“Mmhm. You do this with all your partners?” You chuckle.

“Only you.” He admits, while still soaping up your hair, making sure to get all of it. “I’ve never been this… personal with any other… partners. In fact… It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone.”

“Since before Omega?” You guess.

He nods, pulling you under the water to rinse out your hair, still massaging your head. It feels incredible. You’ve never been given this much attention before, though, so you’re almost not sure what else to say.

He stills, still inside you, and you look at him softly.

“There was just never… time, I suppose? No one ever caught my eye either.” He explains, his voice so soft, so gentle that you feel like you’re almost in a trance. “Until we met you.”

Your cheeks go warm under his stare as you realize the weight of what he’s telling you.

“Anyway.” He clears his throat, awkwardly, as he reaches up for your conditioner.

You watch each other as he conditions your hair, smiling ever so slightly at the understanding between the two of you. You’re it, for each other. There’s no one else.

When he finishes conditioning your hair, he rinses it out just as he did before. And then, you reach up for his shampoo, pouring a bit into your hand, rubbing it between your hands before reaching up into his locks. He groans at the feel of your fingers against his scalp.

“I swear I can feel how tense you are just in your scalp.” You smile, making him laugh.

As you get his hair nice and soapy, you can feel his cock grow harder inside of you, you think. When you tug slightly on his hair, his eyes flutter shut and he groans, pushing further into you.

“You like that?” You murmur, seductively.

He nods, lips parted. “Yeah.”

You guide him under the water a bit and let it run through the soap and your fingers, making it travel down both your bodies, and you realize his shampoo doesn’t have a scent to it.

“It doesn’t smell like anything.” You murmur.

He nods again. “A lot of scents are overwhelming.”

“Oh… I’m sorry if mine-”

“No. It’s just me, being stuck with my own hair 24/7, you know? I love the way you smell. My favorite smell.” He assures you, grinning. “In fact… you’re my favorite everything to my senses… My favorite smell, my favorite taste.” He kisses you. “My favorite touch.” He runs his hand up to cup your jaw. “My favorite sight.” His eyes run down your body and a shiver runs up your spine. “And your laugh is genuinely my favorite sound. I’d do anything to hear it for the rest of my life.”

“Oh… Hunter.” You get an unfamiliar lump in your throat and you struggle to look him in the face, but he pulls your face back toward his.

“I love you. You definitely don't have to say it back. I just want you to know.” He rests his forehead against yours again. “I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like I hated you.”

It’s right this very second that it’s obvious to you. Why it wasn’t obvious to you before, you don’t know…

“I love you too.” You grin.

His eyes widen for a fraction of a second, clearly surprised that you said it back. But then his lips find yours and you're pressed back up against the cool wall. Both yours and Hunter’s hands are in each other’s hair and something changes between you two. Something passionate and all consuming.

This is only the second time fucking but it feels like the hundredth or more. It’s obvious that the two of you are more than whatever this is the start of. Is there a word for something more than a partner?

Hunter’s cock pushes into you repeatedly, coaxing the most perfect moans from your lips. It’s obvious that the desperation between you is bubbling up, threatening to push you over your edge. You reach down and rub your clit, wanting so badly to cum for him again.

How is he reaching into you like this? How does he already know your body so well?

“Fuck…” You groan, your head resting back against the wall and Hunter’s eyes never leave your fingers between the two of you.

“That feel good?” He whispers and you can only nod, your words failing you. “You gonna cum on my cock, mesh’la?”

You whimper and nod, pathetically.

“Atta girl. Cum for me.” Hunter breathes and you curse again, loudly this time, as you clench around him, cumming even harder than earlier and you bury your face in his neck.

His grip on you tightens as your pussy coaxes his own release from him, filling you up so full that his cum slides back out over his cock and down into the floor of the shower.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.” He kisses your neck. “In fact, I know I won’t.”

“You say that now. Just wait til we get into our first real argument as a couple.” You tease.

“Oh, is that what we are?” He teases back and you playfully swat him, making him laugh. “So Cid was right, I guess…”

He said your laugh was his favorite sound but you’re pretty sure that his laugh is the best sound in the Galaxy. It’s so strange that this is how your night ended. But you’re definitely not complaining.

“We don’t have to put a label on it if you don’t want to...” You tell him, brushing your fingers across his cheek.

“Well, I’m all yours and I’d prefer it if you were all mine.” He smiles.

Your heart does an entire flip at his confession. You’d prefer it that way, too.

“Couple just seems so… I don’t know. Small? We’ve been through so much together… And your family feels like my own…” You babble slightly, unsure if you even make any sense.

“We clones have a word like that… that’s more than a ‘couple’. Riduur. It’s like a partner or spouse. But it means more.” He explains. “You mean more…”

You grin up at him as he pulls out of you and puts you down gently, still holding onto you. The both of you stay in comfortable silence, between kisses, as you wash each other’s bodies. Your eyes continuously roam over his tattoos and he smirks down at you as he notices.

“I like you like this.” You shrug.

He hums, caging you against the shower wall. “I bet you do. Once we get back to Ord Mantell, I’ll show you just how much I like having you like this too.”

Hunter’s lips brush against yours and then all of sudden, he’s guiding you out of the shower and wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

“So, what’s the surprise?” You ask him.

“You’ll see.” He winks, drying off quickly to go grab a pair of fresh clothes.

You do the same, settling on a sweater and leggings, going for comfort. He looks at you the same way he looked at you in that dress earlier and the realization that he truly does love you, sets in and you know right this very second, you couldn’t go back to what you were before even if you wanted to.

“Mesh’la.” He kisses you on the forehead before settling into the pilot’s seat.

You settle into the co-pilot seat next to him as he starts up the ship flying it out of the garage and up the tubal fly lane back to the surface. When he reaches over to take your hand, you look between the two of you at your intertwined hands.

“I could get used to this.” He squeezes your hand.

“Too bad Tech would never let you.” You chuckle.

He chuckles and leans over to kiss your hand. “I just meant this… You know? Us.”

When he reaches the hyper lanes, he takes off toward the west. You look at him curiously and he winks. You’re still not a fan of surprises, but you don’t say anything. You just continue to smile at the handsome sergeant.

“I can feel the tension in your neck from here.” He teases you.

Within ten minutes, you see a mountainous region next to a giant body of water.

“Is that an ocean?” You let go of his hand to lean forward, looking out of the window.

He chuckles. “It is.”

“I didn’t know Coruscant had anything other than cities…” You tell him, amazed.

He brings the ship down onto the beach, and offers his hand to you when he stands up. Smiling up at him, you take it and he leads you to the hatch, opening it. As soon as it comes down, your mouth drops. You’ve never seen an ocean before.

Hunter leads you down the steps of the Marauder and you step into the sand. It’s squishier than you imagined it would be. You’re tempted to take your shoes off, but you know that with this job, there’s always the threat of some sort of danger. So you keep your shoes on for now.

Looking out at the sea, you breathe in the salty air, feeling at peace, the threat of earlier long gone from your mind.

“I overheard you talking to Echo once about how you’d never seen an ocean before.” Hunter tells you. “Once we got on the ship, I knew it’d be a perfect opportunity.”

You look at him. “Earlier back at Cid’s… you seemed like you didn’t want to go on this job with me.”

“I was just nervous, mesh’la. That’s all.” He kisses your forehead and then leans down in front of you.

Curiously, you watch him as he unlaces your boots and then slides them off your feet, sitting them on the steps of the hatch. The cool sand seeps between your toes and you can’t help but laugh.

“Feel funny?” He asks and you look up at him, nodding.

“In a good way.” You shrug.

He leads you toward the water and you look out at the sun starting to rise. It’s so beautiful here. A little piece of peace in a hellscape. You know right away, you’d like to come back here.

“How’d you find this place?” You ask him.

“Tech mentioned it during a mission here a while back. After Echo left the squad, I brought Omega here before we went back to Ord Mantell,” he tells you.

He wraps his arms around you from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder. It feels so natural like this. So easy.

You rest your hands over his. “I don’t remember that.”

“This was before you came back to Ord Mantell yourself.” He tells you. “I like it here. It’s… different from Kamino’s raging seas… It’s calmer…” Hunter murmurs, looking out at the sea at the rising sun.

“I’m sorry I was such a raging sea in your life before…” You take his hand and bring it to your lips.

“You weren’t a raging sea.” He chuckles, his voice low and calming as you both watch the sunset. “You’re the sunrise. Fiery, bright, beautiful… and something to look forward to seeing every morning.”

Your chest tightens at his sweet words. You didn’t know before today how much of a romantic Hunter is. You love it, though.

“That was really cheesy.” You laugh, pulling away so you can wrap your arms around his waist and look up at him.

“Doesn’t make it less true.” He kisses you.

The sun glows against his tan skin and you can’t help but be even more enamored. How did you not allow yourself to appreciate his beauty before? How did you not allow yourself to just fall in love sooner?

“Do you want to camp out here today?” He offers.

“Really?” You ask, softly, with hope.

“Yeah. I’ll send a transmission to the others and update them about Cad Bane and tell them we’re just exhausted from running into trouble.” He smirks.

“They’re definitely going to be suspicious.” You smirk back.

“Just Echo.” He shrugs, with a chuckle.

That’s true. But you think Echo already knew about your feelings before you did.

“When I get back, we’ll set up camp. I’ll make you something to eat and then we’ll take a nap. And maybe when we wake up, I’ll take you swimming.” He promises, letting go of you with one last kiss. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You sit down in the sand. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He takes one last look at you in the glow of the sunrise and he nearly says “Fuck it.” and just let the squad figure it out on their own. Except he knows Omega will be worried, so he tears his eyes off of you to go send a transmission to them. You sit and bite your lip, trying to keep the excited giggle inside as you think about what a future with Hunter could be like. It’s still crazy to think that you started off the night by arguing with him… and now… you’re on some sort of date. And… you’ve figured out you’re in love. What a wild turn of events.

TAGLIST: @twistedstitcher27 @misogirl828 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @quigonswife8 @idlenesses @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz @burningfieldof-clover

#tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #joyride fic #tbb #the bad batch #hunter bad batch x reader #hunter bad batch

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jennaispunk · 23 days ago

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Ballroom Blitz

Summary: Din Djarin gets more than he bargained for when he attends a party celebrating the New Year on Plasir-15.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Rating: G (it’s fluff)

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning/Tags: fluff, Din is soft for his girl, teensy bit of jealous!Din, established relationship, shenanigans, Grogu being Grogu, brief mention of vomit, holiday party gone wrong, brief mention of a fight and minor injuries, takes place after season 3, the Razor Crest is back because I said so.

A/N: After many false starts, here is my contribution to @beefrobeefcal Festive Failure 2024 challenge. I did my best to channel the inner chaos and I hope I did you proud, Beef!!

I had the epiphany for the plot of this story when I heard the Ballroom Blitz by Sweet on the radio driving to my work Christmas party (hence, the title of this story. The song is one of my favorites, an absolute bop, and I will blast it in the car every time it comes on. Sorry not sorry). I yelled some vibes into the notes app on my phone as I drove and the rest is history. I dove way too deep into the Star Wars/ Mando universe for this (a lot ended up on the cutting room floor), my apologies for any piece of Star Wars lore that doesn’t jive (please don’t come for me). I used a bit of Mando’a and have translated where needed (I think we all know the meaning of cyar’ika and mesh’la by now).

Moodboard by me. Dividers and banner by @saradika-graphics

The large doors of the grand meeting room slowly open, and the droids usher you inside. You cling to Din’s arm as the two of you, with Grogu is his pram, make your way toward the Duchess and Captain Bombardier. This was the first time you had been allowed to go on a mission with Din and your first time meeting royalty.

Feeling terribly underdressed for such a special occasion; you clench your free hand into a fist to calm your nerves. The knuckles of the hand holding Din’s elbow begin to pale as your grip tightens.

Din looks down at your death grip and tilts his head toward your ear.

“Relax, cyar’ika.” He whispers through his modulator. “They’re just people.”

A half-hearted smile plays on your lips. This is so far beyond anything you ever dreamed of growing up on Loth and you want to make a good first impression.

“Duchess…Captain…”

Din greets the royal couple with a curt nod, and you curtsy.

“The Duchess and I can’t tell you how grateful we are for you coming to our aid once again.”

Captain Bombardier’s voice booms and you bite your cheek to keep from giggling at the theatrics of it all. They really are an odd couple. Your attention is drawn to the opulence of the room, the ornate decorations and tapestries; it all feels a little surreal.

“Thanks to you, our celebration of the New Year tonight can go on as planned. We’d love for you to join us for party.”

The last word snapped your attention back to the conversation you’d been too occupied with other things to pay attention to.

“A party?”

Your eyes go wide at the sound of your own voice. You didn’t mean to say that out loud. Clamping your mouth closed, you press your lips into a tight line.

The Duchess smiles warmly, putting you at ease.

“Yes, a party. We celebrate the coming of the New Year on Plazir-15 with a celebration to rival any in the galaxy. Music, food, dancing…we have it all.”

Your eyes light up at her description. The party sounds wonderful, so different from any other party you’ve attended. Thinking on it, you don’t know that you’ve ever been to a proper party before.

“Thank you for the generous offer, your majesty,” Din voice is clipped and direct. “But we really need to-”

“Nonsense!”

The captain cuts Din off mid sentence, not accepting ‘no’ for an answer.

“Surely you can spare a night to celebrate. You’ve earned it…and we insist.”

Even through his armor and helmet, you can tell Din is annoyed. You’ve been together long enough to read his tells. You desperately want to experience this party, and you turn to him with pleading eyes.

“Can we…please?” you ask softly.

Din’s sigh is audible, and you smile. He can’t deny you, no matter how badly he wants to. He’s powerless against your puppy dog eyes and that childish pout.

“Alright.” he grumbles.

Grogu squeals but you keep silent. You’re not going to make a fool of yourself in front of your hosts. You turn to Din and give him a devilish smirk; you’ll make it up to him later, back on the Crest.

The duchess giggles and claps her hands.

“Excellent! You’re going to have a wonderful time.”

The excitement you felt immediately dies when you realize that you have nothing to wear. You can’t go to the party wearing leggings and a tunic.

The duchess notices your crestfallen expression and takes your hand in hers.

“Come with me, my dear. We will find you something gorgeous to wear.”

She links her arm in yours and drags you away.

“Tis the kriffin season.” Din mutters as you walk away.

The breath is stolen from Din’s chest as you descend the staircase. You look absolutely radiant in your silver sequined dress. The dress fit you perfectly, showing off your figure and shapely legs. He always thought you were beautiful, but this was another level. Seeing you all dressed up made his heart pound.

Din was never one for parties. He preferred to keep a low profile. Spending a quiet night at home with you is what he’d prefer, but he’d do anything to see you happy.

Your small hand slips into his larger one as you reach the last step. Although his face is concealed by his helmet, you know he’s smiling.

“Mesh’la.” he whispers.

All it takes is that one word to make your cheeks burn. Hearing the language of his people always felt special, like a secret only the two of you shared. He’d been giving you Mando’a lessons in preparation for your upcoming riduurok, and you jump at that chance to use it.

“Vor entye, ner kar'ta.” (Thank you, my heart)

Your hand rests against the cool beskar of his helmet, gazing into his visor imagining the color of the eyes that you know are laser focused on you right now.

“It’ll be good for us.” you tell him with a small smile. “You need to relax…we both do.”

The two of you had been traveling for weeks now, the longest you had been away from your little home in Nevarro since you moved in. You wanted a few hours to enjoy something other than playing games with Grogu on the Razor Crest. Not that you were complaining, you wouldn’t trade your time with Din and Grogu for anything; but it was nice to get to experience something different.

The welcome droids push the doors to the ballroom open and your immediately assaulted with the most bizarre spectacle you’ve even seen.

Enormous arches glistening with holographic displays and shimmering banners from dozens of different star systems capture your attention. The room is filled with species from all parts of the galaxy: Ithorian, Rodian, Togruta, and more you don’t even recognize.

Music is coming from the corner of the room, played by a band similar to the ones you’d seen in the cantinas on Tattooine. A group of creatures you couldn’t identify in flashy clothing were gathered around a floating table, cheering and shouting. A Devronian was performing some kind of trick with fire, using a combination of blasters and flamethrowers to create a dazzling display. You hardly knew what to look at next.

Din found a table near the perimeter of the party, where his back would be to the wall. He was always on alert, always watching for potential threats. As much as you wanted him to, he couldn’t let his guard down; he had to keep you and Grogu safe. He would relax once all of you were safely on the Razor Crest and headed home.

Never before had you seen anything like this; and you were a bit overwhelmed in the best way. Grogu babbled happily in Din’s arms as he took in the lights and sounds. Seeing him so excited made you happy, at least the two of you were having a good time. Grogu reaches out his arms toward a table filled with every type of food imaginable.

“I’m going to get Grogu something to eat. Do you want anything?”

His voice snaps you back to reality. You look over at him and shake your head.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

Grogu immediately reaches for the first thing that catches his eye as they approach the table. He closes his eyes, and force lifts a fruitcake. The loaf float precariously through the air.

“Grogu. No.”

Grogu’s ears dropped and the fruitcake landed with a thud. His attention was quickly diverted to the various delicacies spread out before him.

As they make their way through the crowd, a large, boisterous figure in a leather vest staggered into them. The man reeked of cheap alcohol and arrogance.

"Watch where you’re—"

Din’s words fall on deaf ears, the stranger was already stumbling away, unaware.

Din shook off the stranger and arrived at the table to find you engaged in conversation with a twi’lek who wasn’t subtle with his flirtations. A tickle of jealousy flowed through him; you were his and he didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

“Din, this is Reess Tarkul. Reess, this is my betrothed, Din Djarin.”

Din nodded curtly and before he could tell him to get lost, Reess stood.

“I was just keeping your lovely companion here company. I hate to see beautiful woman left unattended.”

You knew Din’s muscles were tense, even if it wasn’t visible to anyone else.

“Your concern is admirable, but I assure you, my eyes were always on her.” Din growled.

The fingers of his right hand twitch and you immediately stand. Reaching out, you cover his forearm with your hand.

The band comes to a discordant halt as shouting filled the air. Two creatures you’ve never seen before begin pushing and shoving, one of them sent flying, colliding with one of the dancers, dousing him in a blast of liquid, instantly extinguishing his flames but causing him to slip on the slick floor. He collides with another performer, and then, in a chain reaction, a series of decorative lights fell, sparking and sending a cascade of short-circuiting wires across the floor.

Panic rippled through the crowd and there was a mad rush toward the door. You were separated from Din during the chaos. You fought, but you’re swept up into the crowd. Pain shot through you as an errant elbow connects with your cheek, knocking you to the floor. The room spins as you try to get your bearings.

Strong arms wrap around your middle and haul you to your feet. It’s not until you feel beskar against your skin that you realize Din is the one holding you. Using himself as a shield, he pushes his way through the throng with you tucked safely behind him.

A loud siren sounds causing everyone to freeze. The small fire had been extinguished and other than a few minor injuries, no one appears to be seriously injured. Helper droids disperse through the crowd and begin to clean up the mess and guide the partygoers toward the doors.

“Everyone!”

Captain Bombardier’s voice carries over the crowd as you and Din search for Grogu.

“Fear not! This is but a momentary hiccup in the festivities. Please join us in the garden for the fireworks!”

Din pushes past the crowd, gripping your hand tightly. He’s not letting go of you until the three of you are out of here. Happy squeals fill the air and both of you turn to see Grogu happily inhaling the last hunk of the fruitcake he’d been eyeing all night. Brown, red and green splotches adorn his hands and face, and crumbs litter the table around him.

“There you are, kid”

“Patu!”

Grogu raises his arms, and Din scoops him up, holding him out to inspect the damage.

Grogu giggles happily and then vomits down Din’s chest. The brown sludge slides down his beskar and your shoulders shake with suppressed giggles as you take Grogu from him. He cleans the mess the best he can, then turns to you.

“It’s time to go.” he grumbles.

You nod in agreement. There’s been more than enough excitement for one day. You wince as you try to smile at him, there’s going to be a hell of a bruise on your cheek in the morning.

Fireworks light up the sky as the Razor Crest takes off. Grogu is nestled safely in his pram, sleeping soundly. It’s a shame he fell asleep; he would have loved the dazzling show.

You reach for Din’s hand as you hold an ice pack to your cheek with the other. What a wild night. No words could adequately describe the spectacle you just witnessed. You’re good on parties for a while.

Din turns toward you and squeezes your hand. All three of you are safe and on your way home, and he can finally relax. He sighed as he looked at you. It was his job to protect you, and although you weren’t seriously hurt, he felt like he’d failed you somehow.

“Does it hurt much?”

His voice is soft, even through the modulator. He’s feeling guilty about you getting hurt. You can feel it in the way he’s holding your hand, hear it in the cadence of his breaths.

You return his squeeze with one of your own. You want to tell him not to worry, but that’s like telling the sun not to shine. He’ll always worry, always try to protect you; and you love him for it.

“Not too much. You’ve punched me harder than that trying to teach me self defense.”

His gravely laugh floats through the cabin. Your ability to bounce back and roll with anything that comes your way amazes him. You were his perfect match.

The silence settles between you, and your eyes close. The soft hum of the Crest lulls you into a twilight; your limbs begin to feel heavy, and it won’t be long before sleep calls you. Soon you’ll be back to your little home with the two people you love the most.

The events of the last few hours play in your mind, and you laugh softly at the absurdity of it all.

“That was some party.” you murmur.

Din groans. It was some party, alright. He’d be happy to never attend a party again.

“No more parties for a while, okay?”

Din presses a few buttons and sets the ship into hyperspace.

“No more parties…”

You mumble your agreement as you begin to drift off to sleep. Taking a break from parties sounded like a good plan.

#festive failure 2024 #ballroom blitz #din Djarin #din dijarin x reader #fluff #long live the Crest #the mandalorian

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