#some dark mando too

[yellowocaballero]

holy shit. your star wars roleswap fics are so beautiful. pirate obi-wan is so good. thank you so much for this

Thank you, the concept of pirate Obi-Wan will always be so good. It's what he deserves. It's objectively cool. He also thinks he's cool. He is so, so convinced he's cool. The kid is such a massive dork.

I went a bit apeshit with that whole situation, so if you haven't checked out the masterpost with the AU and the AU of the AUs and the canon crossovers and - feel free to do so!

Maybe I'll go back to it sometime? I never really know.

[decembermidnight]

Beskar and Pearls

Summary: Wearing the luxurious gift the Mandalorian gave you while accompanying him on a business trip turns out to be a pleasurable torture.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: no plot - just smut, 18+ MDNI, teasing in public, Dom!Din, sub!reader, possessive!Din, lots of dirty talk, Din being a sexy arrogant asshole, glove kink, masculinity kink, humiliation kink, hair pulling, unprotected rough sex, mentions of exhibitionism kink, multiple orgasms, multiple creampies (wtf is a refractory period), a hint of overstimulation

A/N: the most coherent thoughts I have while ovulating. I have no excuse. This is FILTHYYYY I hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!! Also a big thank you to @thefrogdalorian for making sure it's written in decent English and to @saradika-graphics for the perfect divider 💕

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

The Mandalorian has just landed his ship on Nevarro after spending an entire month catching quarries in the outer rim. He has been away most of the time, but he made sure he'd make up for it every time he came back, too proud and stubborn to admit with words that he missed you, but demonstrating it by spoiling you with luxurious gifts and his body.

You look at him in reverential adoration as he dresses in his armour – a blend of his Mandalorian heritage and the many trophies he acquired from his victims, dark red in colour and dented after many close encounters with death.

He's just finished strapping weapons everywhere on his marvellous body when he addresses you.

“Hey. Got this for you. Wear it. We’re going to the market, I have some business to attend to,” Mando says as he hands you a small drawstring pouch he was hiding in his utility belt.

You immediately open it and its content leaves you speechless. It’s the sexiest piece of underwear you’ve ever seen – an expensive-looking black lace thong with just a string of pearls meant to go between your pussy lips.

If he wants you to wear it while in Nevarro, a lawless planet full of dangerous bounty hunters, you will wear it under the shortest skirt you have. The mere thought of his eyes glued to your ass, hoping to get a glimpse of it while being vigilant of other men at the same time, makes your head spin. You let out an aroused sigh and look at him, impassive as always behind the dark visor.

“That should keep you busy,” Mando chuckles and tilts his helmet.

You immediately wear it along with that short, flowy dress that also happens to be his favourite one on you.

“Let me see it,” he says as his hands grab you by the waist. He brings you closer to him and immediately lifts your skirt. He kneels before you and lets out a satisfied hum when he sees the tempting way the pearls disappear into your slit. The Mandalorian lingers there, dark visor trained on that heavenly view as his gloved hands caress your thighs. The sharp contrast between the coarse leather and your delicate, soft skin gives you a thrill of pleasure. You guess – you hope – the trip won’t take long.

His chestplate rises and falls as he struggles to catch his breath and maintain his composure at the sight of your perfect cunt dressed in pearls. It’s incredible to see how something so dainty could turn out to be so perverse and sinful.

“Come on. Let’s go now,” he says as he stands up. Now at his full height, his imposing figure resumes towering over yours. You admire him in awe, taking in the broadness of his body and the way his armour magnificently highlights it.

He offers you his hand to descend the ramp and as soon as you start walking, you understand why he said that it would keep you busy. With every step that you take, the pearls pleasurably rub against your clit. You can feel yourself getting wet already. There's an aroused expression on your face that Mando does not miss.

"Are you enjoying it?" he asks teasingly.

"Yes," you answer and bite your lip.

"Good,” you can hear how pleased he is seeing you like that after you’ve barely taken a few steps out of the ship. You know the thought of you being so aroused in public while having to control yourself is making him hard. You decide to play his game, see where this leads.

Mando is walking right behind you, strutting proudly as he stalks you like a hunter follows its prey. You feel his gaze trained on your butt, so you accentuate the swaying of your hips to get more friction from the pearls and to seduce him even further, hoping to get a reaction from him.

"Shake your ass as much as you want, you're not getting anything until I'm done here. You're only getting this scum to see how pretty you are. I like it," he slaps your ass and chuckles. You bite your lip to muffle a whimper.

"See the way they're looking at you? If they dare even think of touching you, their dead body will touch the ground before they lay one finger on you," he whispers in your ear as he grabs your hand and positions it over his blaster.

"You are mine," he growls in your ear as he wraps his other hand around your waist. He pulls you close, until the flustered, naked skin of your back touches his cold beskar chest plate. A thrill of excitement traverses your whole body and goes straight between your legs.

No one would be so stupid to touch you, not when a Mandalorian is claiming you as his, not when you can feel his erection against your ass. The whole thing is making you light-headed with arousal, so much that you start to shamelessly rub your ass against his cock. His hand tightens its grasp around your waist as your head rolls back to rest on his shoulder. You sigh in his neck and his hand trails up and wraps around your throat.

"Behave now," the Mandalorian growls as you feel his fingers tightening their grasp, trying to restrain himself from giving into lust already.

“I want you,” you whisper in his neck.

“I know,” he replies confidently before releasing you. What an arrogant motherfucker. You want to make him so hard he’ll want to bring you back to the ship and fuck your brains out, putting his desire for you before his stupid pride and his business. You want him to surrender to his carnal instinct.

The more steps you take, the more desperate you become for relief from this agonising, yet pleasurable torture. The pearls are stimulating your clit mercilessly, without ever getting you close to an orgasm. Your cunt spasms and clenches and what's worse is that he knows. Mando has spent so long quietly studying his bounties that he can tell by the irregular way you're breathing that you're struggling with the sensation. You bet he's enjoying every second of it, smirking under the helmet.

Just before entering the market area, he pulls you closer to him one more time, making you gasp.

"Now be quiet. You wouldn't want to fuck up my business. Be a good girl," he whispers softly in your ear as you feel his hand on your lower belly—close, so close to where you want him the most. Maker, he’s rock hard. You can feel it. You can’t think of anything else when his erection is pressing against your ass and his arm is tightly wrapped around your waist. He lets you go and you enter the market area together.

You try to divert your attention on whatever item they’re selling in the stands but it’s mostly weapons and things for bounty hunters that you couldn’t care less about. You can feel your arousal starting to drip down your legs, making your inner thighs slippery. Your swollen clit is pulsing and begging for attention, but Mando has been clear - you’ll get nothing until I'm done here, and you know nothing could make him change your mind, unless you play your cards right.

He grabs a seat in a beat-up wooden booth, his legs spread wide due to the massive erection trapped in his pants. There is an undeniable air of confidence and arrogance to him when he sits like this, looking so imposing and authoritative. You wish you could just drop to your knees and please him in any way he wants.

"Be my good pretty whore and sit here," Mando invites you to sit on his thigh and you immediately comply. You're so damn wet, you can't keep your legs closed.

"Hmm? Sitting here like this with your legs spread open? Do you want everyone to see your pretty cunt? Better let them know to whom this belongs, don't you think?" he coos in your ear with his husky voice. He knows you're both perfectly concealed and no one could see what's going on under that table. He's doing that just to prove a point—that you belong to him.

You nod mindlessly as his hand cups your cunt and stays there, still, without moving.

"Mando. Mando I need–" you whisper in his neck in a trembling voice.

"Oh. I know," he says, pleased when he sees how flustered you're getting. "Not yet," he growls as one of his gloved fingers trails your slit. He stops right before your clit, making you whimper and grip his arm tight in response. You dig your nails in his flightsuit as he feels how unbelievably wet you are.

"Hey. Behave now," he whispers as a Rodian approaches the booth and takes a seat, greeting him with a nod of his head. He immediately hands Mando a puck.

You have no idea what they’re talking about – you can't focus on anything else apart from the way Mando’s gloved hand holds the puck. You look at his fingers with pure lust, thinking of them touching your clit, pumping inside your cunt, the coarse leather caressing your skin. 

You let your hand trail on his inner thigh and he stays surprisingly calm, not flinching one bit as your fingertips slowly slide higher, until they finally meet his cock. He is so unbelievably hard, you feel him throbbing underneath your fingers as you trail them all over his length. The Mandalorian won't betray any emotion, which turns you on even more. He's perfectly calm and collected on the outside, but you bet he'd love to throw you on that table and bury himself in you.

As soon as the Rodian hands Mando a handful of credits as an advance, he leaves.

"Please. Please, I need you," you whisper in his neck.

"I'm not done here. Be patient."

The throbbing need between your legs causes you to ache so badly that you don’t notice another man has approached and taken a seat until he begins speaking with the Mandalorian.

They're speaking in a foreign language, and Mando’s interlocutor does not seem happy. Judging by their tones of voice and gestures, they appear to be negotiating the fee for Mando collecting a certain bounty that the man needs capturing and he is displeased that Mando commands a high price. You’ve learnt over the time you’ve spent with the Mandalorian that there's not much room for negotiation with him. He has leverage since he's regarded as being the best bounty hunter in the outer rim. The way he speaks is so confident, it makes you even wetter how he does not lose composure while the other man is basically yelling at him. 

He starts running his thumb on the string of pearls digging in your slit, feeling how wet you are for him as he keeps talking to his client while you're sitting in his lap, doing nothing but looking pretty. You're his slut and he wants everyone to know it, but you have to act cool even as he teases you under the table. You have to control the way you breathe, you can't let even the smallest whimper out. Why is this so hot? Why is he so hot?

In the end, the man hands him a hefty amount of credits and rises from the table with a huff, muttering and cursing as he goes.

"Please, take me back to the ship and fuck me. I won't ask for anything else, please," you whisper sensually in the crook of his neck.

"I'm not done here," he tries to appear impassive, but as soon as you resume your touching between his legs, he jerks slightly. You smirk, satisfied.

"Mando…" you trace the outline of his cock with your fingers, feeling how hard his erection is while purring in his neck. His pants are thick, but as you stop right at the tip, drawing circles on it with your fingertips, you can feel the fabric getting slightly damp.

“You’re so hard…” you sigh sensually as you keep rubbing his cock. You hear a choked grunt from him, now that he can’t focus on his job anymore, now that he’s at the mercy of your teasing. You’re so tempting, acting so shameless in public, the thrill of someone noticing the two of you drives him insane and you know it. You’re finally getting your revenge. You can bet he's close to losing control. Mando is twitching in his pants, his breathing getting heavier and heavier...

"Fuck it." He grabs you by the arm and you rush out of the market and back to the ship.

The Mandalorian doesn't even wait for the ramp to close behind him to bend you over the first crate he finds, kicking your legs open with his feet and freeing his throbbing erection. His gloved hands run up your skirt and position themselves around your hips, keeping you steady for him as he slams into you all at once. He meets no resistance from your drenched cunt whatsoever, leaving you breathless as you exhale in a loud moan. You're crushed between the crate and his beskar body, pleasurably forced to take his thick cock. You're only able to let out ragged groans and clamp tightly around him as he finally gives it to you just like you wanted.

"You. Fucking whore. Couldn't wait for me to finish my business. Wanted this dick so much, hm? Are you happy now?!" his thrusts are furious and relentless, his hips crushing your body against the crate with a devastating force. The angle at which he's hitting you is deep, so deep that you can't even prop yourself up on your shaky elbows. You're just getting brutally fucked without dignity.

"You get so disobedient when you want this cock. Maybe I should just tie you up and gag you?"

You can't even mumble words, too absorbed by the feeling of his cock thrusting inside of you, so aroused at the idea of him using your body for his pleasure.

"You're so wet. Damn. It must have been such a torture, right? To be so wet and turned on? Hearing you beg like that made me so fucking hard. Feel it. Feel what you do to me," he rasps as he rails you deep and hard.

The way the pearls are rubbing against your clit and the perfect rhythm of his thrusts are driving you close to the edge already.

"Mando, Mando, I'm–" you can barely mumble as you helplessly drag your hands against the crate.

"Yeah. Come. Seems like it's the only thing that will make you obedient. You wanted it so much, you can have as many as you want today."

'Thank you, thank you, tha–" your blissful chant is abruptly cut as the orgasm takes control over your body. Your cunt clenches hard around his thick cock and your legs jerk uncontrollably, barely touching the ground as he keeps you still and never stops drilling into you as you ride your high. The pleasure is so intense, it leaves you breathless as your cunt keeps involuntarily spasming around him in aftershock. You're panting against the metal crate beneath you, overwhelmed and reduced to a trembling, feeble mess, the coldness of it is a relief against the hot, flustered skin of your body that won't stop begging for him.

"Is this what you wanted, hm? For me to stop everything I was doing to come here and take care of you? Needy girl. You desperately wanted attention, hm?"

You can only mumble in assent, feeling the way he takes out his rage on you.

"Bet you would've let me fuck you in a dirty fucking alley if I wanted to."

"Y-yes–" you reply in a breathy groan, drenching yourself at the mere thought.

"What a slut. What if someone heard you screaming like that? What if someone heard how wet this pussy is when I fuck it? Fuck, you're dripping!"

For a man who barely speaks in normal circumstances, he sure does like to run his mouth when he's buried deep inside of you.

"Yeah. I bet you'd like it if someone saw me fucking you like the slut that you are," he pants and you start whimpering and clamping around him at the idea.

"I knew it. You're such a whore. But you are mine, and I won't let anyone hear these pretty moans and see this perfect cunt. They belong to me. To me," he growls.

"Yes – yes. I fuck–ing b-belong to you," you repeat mindlessly.

"Does it get this much to get you this wet? Just a string of pretty pearls? Looking so fucking good. So fucking good. Are you enjoying it?"

"Yes, Mando!"

"Shit, you're so tight. You're making me come," he says in a broken voice. His thrusts get erratic, as does his breathing "This cunt is so perfect, so fucking perfect," he emphasises the very last word before bursting, spilling hot and wet inside of you in a ragged groan, whining at how good it feels. His muscles tense and he gets rigid behind you, his head rolling back in pleasure.

"Oh, fuck! You're so hot. Spill all of your cum inside of me. Like this, yes!" you cry and start touching your clit, so turned on at the sight and feeling of his orgasm.

The sounds he makes as he comes are the hottest ones you have ever heard. The infamous Mandalorian – stoic, imposing and menacing – is getting lost in the overwhelming pleasure you’re offering him. Your drenched, tight pussy is making that dangerous warrior crumble. You’re so aroused, you need more.

"Please, please don't stop fucking me!" you dare asking him.

"I won't," he grunts as he keeps burying his dick deep, so deep inside of you.

"Don't stop. Don't stop. Oh, fuck, I need you to fuck me harder, please!" you plead as you feel his cum starting to drip down your hole. "Maker, please!" you say as you start frantically slapping and rubbing your clit as you hear the obscene, sloppy sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of you, of his hips slamming against your ass.

"I won't stop. Fuck, I want more. I can't stop. You drive me fucking insane!" he growls, resembling a wild beast, completely overwhelmed by lust. You feel his cock still pulsing inside of you as you get even wetter.

"Look at this perfect cunt. You're so full of my cum, damn, you can't ever get enough of it, can you? Fucking cum slut. Look what you make me do. Just came inside of you but I can't stop fucking this perfect cunt. You want to drain me. Are you proud of yourself, hm? Making me so fucking hard in public and teasing me like the whore that you are."

"Fuck, yes, I'm your whore. Your slave. I'm so close, please–" you mutter deliriously while your fingers and the pearls are rubbing against your clit in a wet, nasty mess of your fluids and his cum. You come hard around him once again, strangling his spent, sensitive cock in your tight grasp and hear him grunting, his grip on your hips tightens and his whole body jerks, but he really can’t have enough.

"Yeah. Yeah. Come on my fucking cock, whore. Let me feel it." he encourages you, gritting those words between his teeth, fighting his own oversensitivity, so addicted to the way you feel around him.

He doesn't stop fucking you, not even after your orgasm. He keeps railing you relentlessly. You bring your hand to your mouth and suck your fingers, tasting the bitterness of his cum blended with the slightly salty taste of your fluids on your tongue. Its taste is addicting, the scent heady and intoxicating in the best way possible.

"You taste so good, Mando. We taste so good together," you drawl, overwhelmed by pleasure.

"Yeah, I bet we do," he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls it to lift your head up, giving it to you even harder, making your eyes roll back in your head. You are screaming, completely entranced by the way his cock is still pumping hard inside of you.

"So damn loud. You like being fucked like this, hm?"

He hits even harder from this angle, keeping you nice and still for him to use as he pleases. You're so busy screaming that you can't even reply to him.

"Yeah. Scream as loud as you want. Let me hear how much you want it. I like it."

You can feel his cum dripping down your legs with every thrust, hearing the sloppy, squelching sounds your bodies make. Mando can't even restrain himself anymore, he’s moaning and sighing at how much he's enjoying it. Your cunt is spasming around him, turned on at the way he sounds.

"You like it, hm? To reduce me like this?" he says in between thrusts.

The truth is that yes, you do. You love making the Mandalorian falter with your teasing, making him so desperate and boiling with lust, he has to leave business to fuck you hard, so hard that any coherent thought leaves your mind. You love it when you can feel the man under all that beskar, when he makes you feel like the most important and beautiful thing in the galaxy.

"Yeah, you do," he answers himself as he slows his rhythm, slipping out of you completely only to slowly bury himself inside of you to the hilt, enjoying the view and feeling of his cock entering into your cunt dripping with his cum.

You bite your lip to muffle your screams just to hear him moaning and sighing as he feels the welcoming warmth of your cunt.

“Mando. Mando, please,” you beg as you feel your legs impatiently shaking as his shaft rubs that perfect spot inside of you with each thrust.

“What?”

“Harder. Please?” you beg, subjugated by that perfect teasing.

He slams into you so deeply that you feel it pulsing against your cervix.

“What? Like this? Hm?” he says as he starts to jackhammer you.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you chant as you resume touching your clit.

“Greedy whore. Ready for another one? I'm not stopping.”

“Mmmm,” you can only reply as you feel another wave of overwhelming pleasure approaching.

You hear him panting as he gives you a few more violent, deep thrusts, driving you over the edge one more time.

“Yeah. Take it – fucking t-take–” he grunts when he feels your walls clenching around his cock, your orgasm pushing him over the edge, too.

A loud, violent snarl rips through his lips as he comes, filling you with his white, thick load once again. The grip of his hands around your hips turns to steel, your eyes roll up so high all you can see is pitch black as he keeps pumping his cock into you as you both ride your high. The feeling completely obliterates you, turning your body and mind into a helpless, exhausted mess.

A huge, satisfied grin forms on your face as you feel him slowly slip out of you and his cum starts dripping down your cunt and legs.

“Good work," he pants "now be a good girl and wait for me while I go back there. Don’t move one muscle and maybe we will pick up where we left off,” he says as he tucks his spent cock in his cum stained pants, not giving a shit about it, looking at the mess he made of you, disrupted and leaking with his seed. Wrecked, used, marked. His.

[jedi-starbird]

A happier galaxy where the disaster lineage is somewhat less on fire constantly and senior padawan Obi-wan has developed a fixation on Mandalorians:

Sometimes Feemor regretted just how much he had given away when he had spent 5 expensive months bribing a traumatised Obi-wan to call him brother when he was 14. His dignity, for one, his access codes and shadow cloaking techniques, another. So he had a very dignified reaction when he was awoken to the shine of his younger brother's eyes in the dark at the foot of his bed. "I wou-stop screaming it's just me-I would like a Mandalorian. How do I procure one?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

Obi-wan scowled as if Feemor was being difficult, he wasn't, he wasn't quite awake enough for that yet. "You're a shadow, you're supposed to know things."

Ah, if being a shadow granted you the secrets of the universe instead of just a great many planetary governments, Feemor wouldn't spend so much time wondering what dark rituals Dooku had committed to result in Qui-gon Jinn. (He already knew what regular rituals Qui-gon had committed to result in Obi-wan)

"I know that I'm about to punt you out of my room right now."

"...My birthday is coming up, I believe I deserve compensation for all the traumas."

Obi-wan's eyes were very big now. Feemor sighed. He flopped back down into bed. He resisted the urge to pull his blankets back up and roll over. 'Oh sure when it's time to see mind healers everything's fine but now-'

"Shouldn't you be asking Master then?"

"Master would not approve of how I plan to use the Mandalorian."

He squinted at Obi-wan for a long moment. Obi-wan stared back. He did some quick mental maths and tried not to feel old. Eh. Fine. Feemor swung his legs out of bed. "You had me at 'Master wouldn't approve'."

"Do you think I could get one by walking into little Keldabe and asking very nicely?"

As it turns out, yes he could. A few too many in fact, apparently Jedi, their ancestral enemy, in the Mando district attracted attention, who knew? Feemor knew, Feemor would have known if only he had been properly awake when this semblence of a plan was proposed. He stalked through the cantina towards Obi-wan who was leaning slightly forwards against a pillar, ah...speaking, to a Mandalorian with painted orange armour while surrounded by a larger crowd of Mandos. At least they seem mostly amused. He ignored the youngers squawk as he yanked the back of his robes so that he moved away from the Mandalorian and spun him around.

"You cannot solve centuries of animosity by batting your eyelashes."

"I'm not batting my eyelashes " Obi-wan sniffed," I'm shaking my ass, there's decidedly more effort involved."

"I miss when I was an only child." Feemor sighed deeply. He used the force to scruff the neck of Obi-wan's robes and dangle him slightly in the air. He ignored the shouting from beside him and bowed politely to the staring Mandos. "My apologies for the disturbance, this will not happ-" He considered his brother who was now yelling out his personal comm code with a wink. " Please excuse us, this very probably will happen again, we shall workshop it. May the force be with you all."

I don't have a fully planned AU but it is Codywan!!! cause I love those bitches but have some more dialogue I came up with for this AU. I'm imagining them both as like 20-23, Obi's close to knighthood. He's still a padawan for this because I think him causing Qui-gon headaches is funny. Feemor fully thinks this complicated courtship dance Obi's created is funny, he likes studying his little brother like a bug, he just wasn't prepared for him to just waltz into little kelbade and start hitting on people, though he really should have been.

Hand wavy timeline with Jaster alive but the clones are still clones, Jango was kidnapped and held in stasis or something, Jaster claimed them as Mandos. This is really just about Obi's first and biggest diplomatic achivement being friendly Jedi-Mando relations purely cause he was in his thot era. This also somehow saves the galaxy from the sith.

I like to imagine that Cody's brothers recorded that little exchange between Fee and Obi on their helmets and uploaded it online where it went viral on MandoNet before going viral galaxywide because wait holy shit is that a Jedi saying that????. Qui-gon gets called in for a very weird meeting where the council's like ok so the entire holonet has seen your padawan being horny on main but also this is like the biggest jump in our diplomatic relationship with the Mandos in centuries so like can we keep this up somehow? This results in Obi-wan being holonet famous, first through vode recordings but then he starts a space tumblr and twitter account and he's famous now. Then his friends and other jedi start accounts because wait we're allowed to do that? and those become big as well and this is literally the best PR the jedi have had in hundreds of years. the holonet loves them. the sith are fuming.

Obi-wan, scoffing: What were they gonna do? Shoot me? Feemor: Yes. Obi-wan: I don't believe in blasters. Bly: ...like as a concept...? Obi-wan: No, spiritually.

Obi-wan: I'm sure there's a nice Mandalorian we can find for you Feemor: I'm not sure those 2 words belong together Obi-wan: No of course not, we can't find a nice one, then they'd be all alone, we need to find an absolute bastard of one so that you two match :)

Obi-wan: Oh so Master gets to take in pathetic life forms but I don't? This one's already domesticated! Wolffe: Debatable. Feemor: Cody's a person! Not a stray tooka! Obi-wan: Master takes in stray people all the time! That's how he got me!

Qui-gon: How do you explain this behaviour Padawan ? Obi-wan: The force pushed me towards the Mandalorians Master, it was quite insistent on me developing better relations with them given our difficult history. Feemor: Fascinating, please do elaborate, I'd love to hear the theological implications of a force-assigned kink.

[astral-aromance]

Grandchildren

Imagine being Nerdanel, sure that your family is lost to you forever. You're completely alone. Even after over 6000 years, your bed still feels empty without your husband there. There's no noise in the kitchen where the brothers are fighting over the last apple, despite all of them knowing there's a whole apple tree right outside the window. No smoke coming from the smithy, no papers with blue prints and miracles scattered around. No dog hair clogging up the drain. No music at 3 am. Nothing.

But then, one day, this Elf shows up at your door. He's shorter than usual, and he looks older than you have ever seen an elf look. He says, "I'm your grandson," and suddenly, you are not completely alone anymore. Elrond is nice, you like him. The music room gets used again, even if only a little. It brings you joy.

A few decades go by, and a Raven brings you a summon from Mandos. You except Tyelpë is finally coming home to you, but instead, it's an elf you have NEVER met before. Tall, stoic, and dark-haired, Nolofinwëan in all ways, but his eyes are unmistakably those of your husband. Those of your eldest son. He is just as surprised to see you there, as is Anairë, but you work it out. Turns out Ereinion and Elrond always thought of one another as brothers, now they actually are. One morning, you go downstairs for tea, and you hear the King yell at the Lord about stealing his strawberries off his plate.

Elrond goes to the havens to meet his sons. Surprisingly, the Seagull carried a summon for you as well. Two identical faces greet you, and your heart stings with old grief. You turn to leave, but spot something unusual. Another Peredhil, shy and distancing himself from the others. He looks like Elrond in hair and build, but... Elrond didn't have any other children, did he? One of the twins tugs on his arm and tries to pull him into the crowd, and the newcomer scowls at him. His face turns bright red. Soon after, you find detailed descriptions of Finarfin's failure as a king when it comes to finances on your coffee table.

Tyelpë returns too, turns out he knew all of them, and they get along great. Maybe a little too well, because they start shutting you out. They stop talking when you walk into the room. They hastily hide documents beneath their robes when you pass them. You don't know what they're up to, but at least your house isn't silent anymore, and the forge burns again.

You realise that they are indeed of your house when it comes to stubborn determination when on a quiet Tuesday afternoon 8 Ravens show up to your house with summons, and none of the grandchildren seem surprised.

You are happy as you step out the front door toward Mandos, carrying a basket with 8 sets of robes, a blanket, cups, some bread, some cheese, and a very strong bottle of wine.

[sscieloz]

sub!giselle begging to eat reader out and being left pussydrunk ‼️ love your work siss

Pretty please

Aeri Uchinaga x 5thmember!reader

Warnings: smut.

Word count: 2.1k

Notes: te amo laroca <3 obrigada por me apoiar nas minhas esquisitices mais malucas e sempre sempre me fazer rir. vc nem deve ver isso mas esse smut meia boca (daquele jeito vc sabe😭) vai pra vc. e tbm eu fiz dom!giselle pq n é vc que manda eu q mando.

ps: I’ve kinda combined those two asks together so I hope you don’t mind, anon ^^

“Hey Aeri, do you want to watch some movies?” You ask, just as Aeri is headed to the kitchen. She smiles at you, nodding as she approaches the massive sofa.

“Sure, baby.” Her eyes travel to the dark corridor before pulling you into her lap, making sure none of the girls would stop by and ruin the moment.

Instead of the so-promised vacation, your group was stuck with full days of schedules and oversea fan meetings, on top of each girl’s solo projects. With that, it’s been the first time in weeks you and Giselle managed to be alone, in peace for the dark hours of the night before being busy all over again.

“Can I pick?” You both know it’s not an actual question— your hands are already reaching out for the remote, but Aeri hums anyway, content on having you so close by.

You smile as your favorite movie shows up on the massive TV screen, happy to watch your comfort animation after a tiring week. Snuggling beside your girlfriend, you feel cozy and safe, embraced by her strong her arms. You’re nearly falling asleep when you feel Aeri’s hands inside your shirt, caressing your waist with a look you know too well.

“Aeri…” You whine, nudging her faintly— even though she barely moves, much stronger than you are. “Come on, stop. I want to pay attention to the movie.”

She blocks your view from the screen completely, hands still on your waist and an adorable pout on her face. You look away, well aware your girlfriend can get you to do anything with that look.

“Please, Y/n. You know how stressful this week has been.” She pleads, pecking your lips. You keep them shut, but it doesn’t take long for you to melt under Aeri’s touch. “I need you, baby… pretty please?”

You sigh, trying to hide your smirk once you allow your girlfriend to kiss you deeply, licking and tugging on your lips like she’s never had a taste of you before. Her hands reach for the hem of your sweatpants, but you stop her fingers from wandering further.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, the girls might see us if we stay here…” You grab her wrist, biting your lip. You’d be too ashamed to ever face your bandmates’ faces if that ever happened.

Aeri brushes her nose against your neck, giggling when she feels you shiver under her. Her smile deepens, and her voice sounds proud as she answers you. “But don’t you want to watch the movie, baby? They won’t barge in, don’t worry.” Her hands squeeze your thighs, then, petty to not have you agree to her wishes without complaints. “You just have to be quiet. Can you do that? Be quiet for me?”

She’s able to get you to do everything with that tone, and she makes good use of that. With a subtle move, she places her body over yours, one hand setting up the volume of the movie with the remote while the other one begins to lift up your shirt, letting out a satisfied hum once you quickly finish the job yourself, now naked under your girlfriend’s touch.

Aeri’s clothes are off in a second, too, and her hands assault your body once again. Her long nails scratch down your hips, hands groping everywhere, making their way to reach out for your boobs. By then, you’re a whimpering mess, struggling to stay still in the cushions as she pinches and twists your nipples rather harshly —just how you like it, making your mission of staying quiet nearly impossible.

“I knew you wouldn’t make it.” Giselle laughs, hands on your thighs to bring your pussy closer to hers. “You’re too loud, baby. I love it.”

She stays still for a moment, brushing her hair out of her face to admire your body. Her eyes, ever so greedy, go all the way from your skin— slightly reddened by the work she had done with her nails, to your pussy, already glistening with the thought of being touched by the Uchinaga.

You don’t look away, too proud of having her look at you with such desire. She lowers her head, then, and spits, her saliva coating your wet pussy. Aeri spreads it generously with her thumb, making a show of fingering your pussy in a slow, deep rhythm. You no longer care about the movie, biting your hand in attempts of keeping your breathless moans to yourself. In fact, you're so focused you barely register how your girlfriend takes one of your legs against herself, positioning your cunts together until she lowers her body and your pussy touches hers.

“Aeri— oh fuck” You grasp, reaching out for her bare back. Your long nails scratch her skin relentlessly, mind long lost in the sea of sensations she was making you feel.

She rolls her hips, voice echoing loud through the room as your clits touch. You’ve now realized how touch-starved for your girlfriend you were. Aeri she holds you by the waist, placing wet kisses on your neck while her cunt pulsates on top of yours, and the friction is more than enough to radiate that insatiable feeling from your lower abdomen through all your body, making you nearly come in the spot. Your girlfriend’s own moans are loud, nothing short of pornographic; she rolls her eyes, breathless and lost in her own pleasure, too.

Once again, your pussy slides onto hers, in a faster rhythm. It’s enough to drive you crazy, mumbling and whining for her to not stop, to go even faster, to not let go of you…

Aeri revels in seeing you fall apart under her touch. Eager to get those unholy sounds out of you, her fingers reach out for your clit, still focused on brushing her dripping cunt in yours. It’s a mere presence, barely circling your numb bud at all— yet it’s enough to send a wave of shock to your body.

“A-Aeri, oh fuck!” You arch your back, doing everything possible to get your pussy closer to hers. Your pleasure is strong, building up in the pitch of your stomach too quickly, but Aeri stops her movements as soon as she registers the way you tense: a clear sign you’re about to cum. “Hm? Baby? Why’d you stop?” You ask, voice small and uncertain, even though you’ve just had your orgasm ruined. You can’t act defiant towards her, not when her weight is pressing you under her body, and her strong muscles are doing all the work. The only thing you feel is how upset you are, unable to talk back or scold the Uchinaga, deep in your headspace.

She knows your body with the palm of her hand. As soon as your breathing had become quick, and you had your eyebrows furrowed, Aeri knew you were close. Laughing at your confusion, she purposefully alternates between masturbating your pussy then hers, without rush.

“Do you see this, Y/n?” She asks, caressing your neck to guide your head downward, towards the sight of both of your pussies, red and puffy from the friction. “My oh my, how pretty we are.” One of her hands squeezes your breasts hard, before giving both of them light slaps.

In a swift motion, her hands circle your waist, switching positions so you’re half-seated on top of her abdomen, instead. You look at her with a confused frown, tilting your head a bit to the side.

“Sit on my face, please?” She pleads, cupping your ass to reaffirm her words. You do as told, resting your hands on top of the sofa before nodding. You’d do anything to cum, head clouded by the thought of relief— and Aeri knows it. It’s what makes her smile, breath hot under you, as she hovers her mouth through all of your cunt. “God, I’ve missed your taste so much.”

You lean your head back, movements led by Aeri’s strong hands on your thighs as you bite your lip so strongly you feel the metallic taste going down your throat.

“You could’ve just… said so…” You’re breathless, yet your tone still holds a certain grudge to it. “I’ve been dying to touch you, do anything with you all week.” You roll your eyes, then, swirling your hips on her tongue rather harshly. She deserved it, for not paying enough attention to you during so many days. “If you only looked at me at all…”

An uninvited scream leaves your lips once you feel your ass being spanked. Aeri growls, satisfied with your reaction, and slaps your ass once, twice again.

“Shut up and cum.” She demanded, groping your skin so tightly it would certainly bruise.

You should’ve complained; Aeri’s harsh tone and impatient words were not like familiar to you at all. Yet, all you could do was moan loudly, going crazy by your girlfriend’s tongue lapping on your entrance as her nose hit your clit repeatedly. You find yourself desperate, shoving your face onto her without a care about your girlfriend. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to mind; if anything, she was truly starved, taking you in.

You could also feel it— from the way she held you by the hips, to the satisfied moans she let out every couple of seconds, too. This was as much for your pleasure as it was for hers, you both knew so.

It was all too good. Aeri’s tongue was all over your pussy, making a true show of gathering all of your sex to herself— letting her mouth be used for your pleasure only. As moments passed, you could no longer fight the pleasure building up in your abdomen, eager for release.

“M’ gonna c—“ You had no time to warn your girlfriend, falling apart in her mouth. She held you once your body began to shake, lewd sounds coming out of your mouth along with incoherent mumbles.

Aeri happily collected all of your juices, careful to not suck on your clit. She had no plans of overstimulating you; she’d save it for someday you were able to truly enjoy yourselves, taking her time to prepare your body.

Although seeing you drunk on your orgasm, crying like a little bitch was a heavenly sight, one she deeply missed.

“I’ll never get tired of your taste.” She smiled, pulling you into her lap once you’d calmed down. You hummed, trying not to pay her much attention while her sultry mouth placed kisses on your chest. “I missed you too much, baby… come on, don’t be difficult. You’ve been busy, too.”

Her words are truthful enough to make you sigh, grabbing her face with both hands. Her mouth is glistening, still filled with your arousal, and her bangs are messy, as if the wind had blown it up— you’ve never seen a prettier sight.

You wish you could have her all to yourself, forever.

“I love you.” Is all you answer. Your thumb travels to her lips— now rosy and slightly swollen, and you spread your arousal even more before giving Aeri another kiss; slow and passionate, just like she had done to you earlier on.

She smiles back, motioning to the movie playing on the TV. “And I love you more, baby. Now, let’s watch the movie? No funny business this time, I promise.”

You smile back, nodding. “Sure. Movie it is.”

Soon enough, your clothes were back on, and you were once again curled up with your girlfriend, now feeling much more relaxed and happy.

“Fucking finally! I’ve been wanting to get water for ages.” You hear Minjeong mumble, passing through the living room with her hands half-covering her eyes, afraid of seeing too much.

Before Aeri speaks up, Karina and Ningning’s screams are heard too, complaining from their rooms about how the two of you were gross and would have to do a massive cleaning session at the dorm, later.

Mortified, all you do is hide your face in the crook of Aeri’s neck, jokingly slapping her arm because she keeps laughing, content with how her day went.

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 15th

Day 15: Hair Pulling // Glory Hole // Teasing

Mando x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Glory hole, anonymous pleasure, idiots, blow jobs, vaginal fingering, Mando being impatient, deep throating, cum swallowing

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Needing to be alone in that ship is a luxury neither one of you have. The sleeping shifts in the little bunk aren’t working. He can’t even take his helmet off without inhaling the scent of whatever soap or perfume you use. Filling his nostrils and making his cock ache in the darkness. He can’t even take himself in hand to relieve the problem. Too wary of you hearing his grunts and groans as he fucks his hand, you seem to hear every sound he makes as it echoes through the metal hull of the Razor Crest. 

Finally, he’s ready to return to Nevarro. To dump off the bounties that you’ve collected and gather more pucks. His rifle is left behind this time, not needed for where he will go after his meeting with Karga and he doesn’t want to have to store it somewhere else. The little storefront he will visit doesn’t allow rifles, just regular blasters. 

Running through the sandy alleys of Nevarro, you tread a familiar path. One that you slip off the ship and escape to every time you are here. Mando never asks any questions, never tells you where he goes for hours at a time. Both of you have a don’t ask, don’t tell policy about your time spent on this planet and you are happy for that. 

You had found this place by accident. Looking for a store that sold display arrays that you could modify to fit the Crest, you had walked into The Hole. Karga had mentioned it once, chuckling and telling Mando about the wondrous treasures that could be found within its hallowed walls. The wall of metal beside you had practically shoved you from the booth and told you that you were leaving, your questions about what kind of place it was left unanswered. 

You had assumed it was a junk store. A place where people deposit their junk that is treasures to someone else. You had gone looking for it when you were bored and discovered why the Bounty Hunter’s Guild leader chuckle was so dirty when he mentioned it. It was a Glory Hole. 

You love going. The woman’s side is alright, but after one experience with a Twi’lek’s fangs, you had decided to stick with giving rather than receiving. So you come here and sit behind the wall to suck a stranger’s cock, fingering yourself while you do it. 

The Sullustan that runs this place doesn’t mind it at all. He doesn’t pay you and he gets to have a paying customer pleased. For him, it’s a boon when you walk in the door and he makes sure that he always assigns you the first customer to come when you are in your little booth. 

Mando stalks down the street, his head turned straight as he walks with a purpose. He will just slip inside The Hole and lay down a few credits. Get some relief that is sorely needed to make another trip with you on his ship. The payment from Karga was generous, but half belongs to you. The pucks on his belt will be dealt with soon enough, after he’s lightened his load in the anonymity of the glory hole and finds you again. 

He doesn’t know who is on the other side, but he always imagines you. Takes fragments of expressions you’ve given him over the months together as he closes his eyes behind his helmet and lets the mouth around him suck him off. Already hard beneath the flight suit, he steps inside the door and finds the proprietor to give him the required credits. 

Waiting never takes long. You’re already slick with arousal, fingers rolling over your clit teasingly and lightly dipping inside your cunt as you kneel in front of the hole. The cushion for your knees is a lovely little boon to your aching bones from kneeling on the metal grate floor of the Crest when you are working behind some mech panel. You hear shuffling, cunt clenching in anticipation for the cock that will be fed through the hole and presented to your hungry mouth. 

The booth is private. Something that Mando appreciates, even if he doesn’t do more than pull his cock out of his flight suit. He can relax, enjoy the pleasure without worrying about an attack from behind. Shuffling inside and closing the door behind him, he works on pulling his stiff length out with a quiet groan. 

You freeze. Aware of that groan, that sound. You know who makes it and yet you can’t fucking believe it. Mando couldn’t have come here. There is no way he would do this. You break your own rule and crouch down, peeking through the hole and choke when the familiar flash of orange tipped gloves can be seen. 

Pulling back, you don’t know what to do. You should say something, stop him. You know that he doesn’t want you, he’s never made any move on you. Never given you any clue that he finds you to be anything more than adequate help and an annoyance. 

Before you can find your voice, the thick heft of his cock slides through the hole and into sight. It’s fucking gorgeous. Making your mouth water at the girth, the length. He’s more than a mouthful and you want to taste him. You swallow, still unsure of what to do. 

Mando looks down, his cock is in the hole and yet there isn't a mouth around him. Pulling his hips back slightly and pushing forward again, wondering if the worker isn’t paying attention. He’s already aching, the head of his cock nearly purple with repressed need and his voice is slightly impatient. “Suck it.” 

You shiver, the growl coming from the other side of the wall shoots straight to your core and you can imagine that impassive visor looking down on you mercilessly. This is your fucking dream come true and he doesn’t even know it’s you. 

The small drop of liquid built on the tip calls to you and leaning forward, you lap at the tip, eliciting a dark, deep groan from Mando on the other side. Tasting his very essence and enjoying the salty drip on your taste buds before you start to lick down the length of him. 

His head tips back, visor pointed up at the ceiling as the wet heat drags up and down his cock. He needs this. Perhaps needing a pussy more, he will take this blow job and imagine you on your knees in front of him. Taking his cock down your throat and looking up at him with those pretty big eyes of yours. “Fuck.” He hisses. 

Your cunt quivers, fingers slipping in the slick that is now pouring out of your needy hole and you take the head of his cock into your mouth right as you bury your fingers down to the knuckles in your pussy. 

His fist curls tight, resting against the wall as he feels the mouth take him deeper. Eyes rolling back in his head as he groans again. Letting the pleasure of this wet heat surround him. “Take it all.” He growls. 

Fuck. You whimper around his cock because the man will be the death of you. He gives dirty talk a first class name through that modulator. Doing as he ordered immediately and taking him deeper into your mouth, you hum around him and push your fingers in and out of your soaked cunt. 

He gets lost in the sensation. The soft sucking and the hollowed cheeks when the pull on his shaft is a bit stronger. The fluttering of the tongue around him and driving him crazy when that mouth pulls back and that tongue presses against the slit. Whoever it is has some talent and he still imagines that it’s you pleasuring him. 

You put everything you hand into this blow job. Your hand that isn’t buried in your pants is wrapped around the base of his cock, wanting to keep as much of him on this side of the wall and give him as much pleasure as you can. The fact that your fingers barely fit around the base makes you moan around him, trying to stuff a third finger inside your aching cunt while you bob your head. 

“That’s it.” He growls, his body tensing under the pressure of that mouth on the other side of the hole. “I’m gonna cum, cyar'ika.” He hisses. “And you’re gonna drink every drop.” 

You whine, wanting that more than anything as you plunge your fingers in and out, rolling your hips down onto your hand to ride it while you suck his cock. You want every drop, you want to drink him down and make him limp with pleasure. 

Your own pleasure is so closely linked with this moment that you feel your body starting to prime to cum when his cock starts to pulse. 

It takes just a moment, from the pulling of his balls against his body to the stream of cum that bursts onto your tongue with a low groan of praise that you can’t even hear because your blood is rushing in your ears as you start to swallow down great, greedy gulps of him while your cunt spasms around your fingers. Moaning Mando’s name around his length inaudibly, rolling your eyes at how much you love that this has happened. How you want it again already. 

Your name is poised on his lips, barely being able to hold it back. Riding out his orgasm with slow rocks of his hips as the mouth moans and whimpers around him. He’s never had such an active blow job before and he’s already wondering how fast he can capture those bounties so he can come back to The Hole to seek it out again.  

[lokidjarin-7567]

Kinktober Day 3 - Aphrodisiacs/Sex Pollen

Billy Butcher x you Contents: pwp, fem!reader x Billy Butcher (The Boys), 18+ MDNI, there's only one bed (!!) W/C: 2.2k So I've read a lot of sex pollen fics, normally Mando ones actually, and then this idea got stuck in my head so yeah, here it is! It's a little longer but my next two are a lot shorter, so this is to make up for it. Anyway, hope someone out there is as obsessed with Billy Butcher as I am! Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” You could’ve shouted at the receptionist, hands balling by your sides.

“Sorry, just the one room left tonight.”

“We’ll take it.” Billy replied, shit eating grin spreading across his face.

“You can’t be serious…”

“How much do I owe you, darling?”

He ignored your complaints the whole way to the room as well, your bag slung over his shoulder. He unlocked the door, swinging it open and laughed heartily.

“What?” You pushed him aside, to see… one bed. For fucks sake.

“No getting away from me now, sweetheart…”

You’d just gotten out of the shower when you heard a deathly silence come over the room next to you. That was unlike him. He’d had the TV blasting since you’d been in the bathroom, and now it was silent. Something wasn’t right.

You wrapped your towel around yourself and peeked your head around the door. He was standing, his leather coat abandoned on the bed, head cocked as he looked towards the window. He turned his head when he heard you, pressing a finger to his lips and creeping closer. It was cracked open, a soft evening breeze causing the curtains to billow, but you couldn't hear anything else. You opened your mouth, about to ask him what was going on when a figure moved into frame.

“Fuck, cover your mouth!” Billy shouted, backing away, but it was too late. The figure raised their lips to the window, and a baby pink smoke filled the room before you could even react to it. It left you coughing, doubled over as you waited for it to clear. When it finally did, your head was hazy, as though you had literally put on rose tinted glasses and smoked a joint. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but it meant that it took longer than you normally would've to figure out what just happened.

“Cupid…” you muttered, cursing lightly under your breath and moving to close the window. She was the Supe you had been tracking for the last few days, with the ability to produce a powerful aphrodisiac that was nearly incapacitating to whoever it affected. Not exactly the best superpower, although it felt pretty fucking awful right about now. Billy had perched on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. “But why would she…”

“To distract us, to throw us off…”

“That makes no sense, we’ve already stopped for the night.”

“Didn’t you do your research, darling? It can last a full day, even two.”

“Fuck!” You were pacing now, trying to ignore the fog that was lowering over your mind. “Well, lets go after her! She can’t have gotten far.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not in any way to drive. Plus, you’re only in a towel.” You looked down, a blush spreading across your cheeks.

“Ok… ok I guess we just have to ride it out and hope it doesn't last too long… what?” You had looked up to see him gazing at you, pupils dilated, a dark expression on his face. His eyes were tracing your body, and you hadn’t realised until that point how short the towel actually was, your legs on display for him, droplets of water from the shower still clinging to you. “Billy!”

“Fucking hell, love, I’m sorry, but we just got blasted with some kind of sex potion so you can forgive me…”

“Just… go and have a shower or something. Maybe a wank, clear your head.”

“Sure thing, boss. Wanna watch?”

“Fuck right off.”

He had been in the shower for a while now, and you were starting to struggle. When you had agreed to go with him on this Supe hunt, you never thought this was the situation you would end up in - trapped in a hotel room, only one bed, with Billy Butcher, after a maniac just filled the room with a potent aphrodisiac. And you were really starting to feel it. Every single nerve ending in your body felt like live wires, and you were so turned on it was painful, squirming on the bed as your core physically ached with lack of attention. You had managed to get changed into a t-shirt and shorts, but you still felt too warm. You were halfway through tying up your hair to try and help cool down when Billy emerged from the shower, towel around his waist. Sweet Jesus that wasn't going to help. He was ripped, his arms and chest looked almost chiseled from stone, save for the light smattering of hair over his torso, following down his stomach into a happy tail that lead under the towel. You could almost feel your mouth watering as you noticed a tent in the think fabric. He was hard, and from the way he winced when he moved, painfully so.

“Did it help at all?” You asked feebly, trying to ignore the hardening of your nipples as you watched him move.

“No.” He answered sternly, sitting down with his back to you. You couldn’t help but gaze at it. His wide shoulders, the way his shoulder blades rippled with his shuddering breaths, what it would look like when you were done with him, red welts and scratches after he fucked you into the mattress…

Nope, no. Can't go there. He's a colleague - even if only technically. Work would be unbearable.

Although, this was pretty unbearable too.

He’d said something.

“Hm?” You asked, not noticing the way he was looking at you over his shoulder until your eyes had traced his entire back. You blushed.

“I need to change…”

“Oh shit, sorry.” You headed to the bathroom quickly, closing the door behind you and collapsing to the floor. Fuck this was a mess. A horrible, terrible mess. Maybe it would help if you just… just a little bit…

Your hand found its way below your waistband, and as soon as your fingertips brushed over the sensitive bundle of nerves there, your entire body relaxed, an audible moan escaping your mouth. Shit. Hopefully he didn't hear that. You carried on quietly, biting your lip to try and stay quiet, but it was hard, the relief flowing through you unlike anything you’d ever experienced. And then you heard something from the other room. A soft grunt, and then another. And fucking hell it was a beautiful noise, almost pained but so relieved, perfectly echoing how you felt at that moment. God, he was awful and frustrating and horrible to work with but his voice was so sexy, and the noises he was making now were no different.

You couldn't deny it was helping you along, and you couldn't tell if you were imagining it or not, but every time a whimper escaped you, he groaned just a little louder. You reached your peak quickly, your entire body crumpling as it overtook you, a last moan falling from your lips as you caught your breath on the bathroom floor. You stood up to wash your hands and face, legs shaking, only to realise… it had barely done anything. The ache was back almost instantly, nipples hardening again at the thought of Billy in the next room, and you cursed into the icy cold water.

He had been quiet for a little while now, so you knocked cautiously.

“Yeah, I’m decent, doll.” The new pet name sent another wave of arousal to your centre, and you cursed internally with it. Every word he said feel like he was physically touching you, but not quite enough. It was driving you insane.

“How the fuck do we make this stop?” You gasped out, frustration clouding your mind as you flopped onto the end of the bed, laying down with your hands over your eyes. Maybe if you just didn't look at him…

“Well, I can think of one way…”

“Billy…” you muttered warningly, but you couldn't bring yourself to say more than that, just letting your hands drop from your face to see his dark expression looking you up and down.

“Do you really wanna stay like this for the next day…”

“We might still be like this… after.”

“We don't know until we try.” Fuck, you hated how much sense he was making in your sex-addled brain. “You can't say you haven't thought about it…” You opened your mouth to snap back that you hadn’t, that he repulsed you… but you couldn't get the words out. The truth was, you had thought about it. A lot. He might be a pain in your ass, but he was undeniably attractive. The smirk. The confidence. Those stupid fucking Hawaiian shirts that showed off his biceps in just the right way…

“Please I… look, it's killing me here love…” he sounded breathy, strained. Needy. Hearing him beg was almost enough to send you over the edge.

Fuck it.

You sat up before you had a chance to change your mind, grabbing him by the neck and pulling his lips to yours. He practically growled into your mouth, reciprocating with a ferocity you hadn't expected. His hands were instantly all over you, grabbing your hips and pulling you onto his lap, his strength making you gasp sharply. His teeth found your bottom lips, biting and pulling as he forced your hips down into his, grinding into you in a way that felt so fucking perfect. You needed him closer. Your shaking hands reached for the hem of his tee, pulling it over his head and pushing him to the bed, lips marking a path down his chest.

“Fucking hell, love, get those clothes off.” You obliged quickly, standing to rip off your tee, then shorts and panties as he removed his own bottoms, letting his cock spring free. He was big. Really fucking big. You needed him inside you now. Needed…

He was a step ahead of you, grabbing your arm and pulling you face first to the bed. He set himself up behind you, pulling your hips into the air and his hand found its way to your hair, pressing your face into the mattress. And then you felt two fingers dip inside your wet core. The sound that you made was filthy and animalistic, pressing your hips back into his hand as he chuckled, desperate for more of him.

“God you’re needy like this aren't you?” He pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you whining, and you heard him pump his length a few times with your slick. And then he was there, his size pressing against you, and you had no time to adjust as he rolled his hips into you. You couldn't breathe as he split you open, full to the hilt, hands scrabbling across the bedspread trying to find purchase on something.

“Fucking hell…” he grumbling, hand smacking your ass hard. You yelped, and he laughed again. “I can feel your pretty cunt fluttering around me when I do that.”

“Fuck… you…” You managed to choke out between laboured breaths.

“As you wish, doll.” He started to drag himself out of you, so painfully slowly you were squirming, but he just pressed your face further into the bed. And then he started to just fuck into you. It was debilitating, every single nerve in your body on fire. His pace was merciless, hard and fast and blinding, hitting a spot inside of you that turned your body to jelly. His hand on your hip was the only thing keeping you upright, squeezing in a way that was sure to bruise. And then his hand left your head, and you gasped in air, only to realise it was snaking around to your clit. The instant his fingertips found your sensitive mound, your world went black, and you were coming hard around his cock.

“Fuckk, there we go, sweetheart. Good girl, let it all out...”

By the time you could see again, it didn't take you long to start winding up for another orgasm. Your body had completely crumpled, pressed to the bed apart from the arm he had around your hips, keeping him in the perfect position to keep hitting that sweet spot with every thrust.

“Goddd, Billy…” you cried out, sound after filthy sound filling the room as he continued to rut into you, his breaths becoming shorter and his curses becoming less coherent. “Please.. that's it… inside me please…” Your fucked-out babbling seemed to help bring him to the edge, and he pressed his hips into yours as he came, his teeth clamping onto your shoulder enough to help you reach another pinnacle.

You could barely breathe when you were done, his entire body weight pressed to your back, his lips pressing sloppy kisses to the back of your neck. He was still inside you, and it wasn’t until you tried to move that you noticed…

“Billy?”

“Yes, love?”

“You’re still hard.” There was a beat where he stopped kissing you shifting his hips just slightly with a groan, then he sighed.

“I guess its gonna be a long night, doll.”

[chaotic-iguana]

HI OMG UR FICS ARE INTOXICATING WTH!!!

Can I please req a Din Djarin where he and the reader are travelling together and reader is bubbly/sunshine personality and then she admits her feelings and Din doesn’t reciprocate at first.. then her personality changes and she’s all sad and he can’t stand it!!!! Cause he does love her and he can’t bare to see her that way!!!

Super angst and fluff please 😭😭😭😭 THANK H IF U DECIDE TO WRITE THIS 🤍🤍

HELLO THANK YOU SO MUCH!! ofc im writing anything u request lysm ur the best plus the prompt is so adorable ahufsdkfjhfs. just to try sumth new, im gonna switch it up and do this one from din’s pov. lmk what you think!!

Enough

Summary: Din rejects reader when she confesses her feelings to him even though he feels the same, only to regret it later.

Pairing: Grumpy! Din x Sunshine! Reader (no use of y/n)

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: none, just a lot of angst and fluff

masterlist

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Din Djarin was not a good man. He was aware of this, which is why he was careful not to get to close. Not to taint things with his darkness; the destruction that seemed to shadow him wherever he went. He learned to turn his head away when you sung softly to the child, to clench his fists and keep himself from reaching for you when you giggled at your own terrible (adorable) jokes, to steel himself against your pleas to purchase every single fuzzy fabric you saw, no matter the form. Socks, blankets, shirts, trousers, even a kriffing hat, which Din stopped and let you buy just to stop the stares he was getting from people at the way you were practically jumping in your spot, pointing at the shop’s display. 

But despite his best wishes, Din was not a strong man, either. Not as strong as he needed to be, to resist you. You, with a beaming smile that never failed to make him blush under his helmet; with tender, caring hands that looked so soft that Din wanted to rip his beskar off so you could brush them against him, just once. Your hair, which smelled so sweet that Din could catch traces of it through the beskar. Your eyes, almost siren-like when you blinked up at him while rambling away about something. The way you scrunched your nose with a snort when you couldn’t hold in a laugh. The fact that you had never, ever asked for his name - or an explanation of his helmet, for that matter - even when he knew you hadn’t heard of Mandalorians before. The lilting notes of laughter in your voice before you turned to him with a sly smile, offering him with a witty quip he would have killed others for voicing, before throwing back your head and howling. No, Din was nowhere near strong enough to stand a single damn chance against you. 

He could hear you humming to yourself and the baby while you heated some broth, stopping to lean down and pepper kisses all over Grogu’s face as he cooed happily. Walking into the cockpit, he grunted in acknowledgement of your “Hey, Mando! Sleep well?” before turning to the child and nudging his helmet against his wrinkly forehead. When he turned around to see a gentle smile gracing your face in acknowledgement of the scene in front of you, he straightened up and cocked his helmet as if daring you to comment. 

He was itching for a fight: something, anything to stop the sweet torture of your presence which seemed to breathe life into your surroundings, no matter where you stood. You’d find a way to brighten a graveyard, Cyar’ika. Your smile tightened slightly before you presented him with a bowl of his own, brushing past him to take the child in your arms and leave the cockpit. Every muscle in his body was tense, his mind begging him to let you stay, to apologise for his hostility. To hear you prattle on about something menial while he ate, to revel in the domesticity of being with you. Not like that, of course. You were simply too good for him. Too perfect; too pristine. Your eyes too bright and your heart too soft for him to be worthy of your love. And so Din slipped off his helmet, ducked his head, and ate in silence.

He had noticed that lately, you still spoke to him, but you’d leave with the child more often. He could hear conspiratorial whispers sometimes, the child nodding and babbling his own input as if the two of you were hiding something. You weren’t awkward around him, per se, just less readily giving of your laughter, your jokes, your mindless chatter. All Din knew was that his mind would not rest unless he confronted you, and soon. A restless yearning for your erratic, unnecessarily bright gestures gave way to the anxiety spooling in his gut. Had you finally seen him for what he is?

So later that day, after the supply run when you had fed and put Grogu to sleep, he approached you in the cockpit. He shuffled uneasily behind you, shifting his weight from side to side as he waited for you to break the silence. But uncharacteristically, you just continued to stare into hyperspace without a word. When Din cleared his throat, you turned your head his way. But your gaze was flitting around; your hands fiddling nervously in your lap. Why were you apprehensive? 

“Are you…” Din swallowed, unsure of how to phrase his question, “okay?” Are we okay?You looked up at him then, your eyes wide with anxiety, before looking down at your lap again. Could you be…scared? Of me? 

But then you took a deep breath; the nerves fading from your face and giving way to a look of complete resignation, your shoulders slumping with the weight of inevitability. Your gaze met his visor, and he could see that your fingers were lightly curled into fists.

“I don’t really know how to do this, Mando.” Another deep breath. The colour has faded from your face and suddenly you seemed so small, folded in on yourself, that Din had never had to wrestle harder with his own self-control to stop himself from pulling you into his chest and holding you; comforting you, until you’re back to your bouncy self. “You know that I like most people, right?” He nods; you do seem to like and be liked by most people he’s come across, even the ones he would deem unworthy to so much as look at you. 

“I’ve always really enjoyed meeting new people, and making friends. Life is easier when you’ve got people, right?” You’re rambling again, but instead of the usual enthusiasm lacing your tone, crippling worry dripped from your every word. Are you leaving him? 

“I think-I know that I like you more than I like everyone else. Anyone else. I like everything about you more than I’ve ever liked about anyone else and I just…” you trailed off, gulping. “It feels like you and Grogu are my family, already. And I guess I just can’t help but wonder if you might want more than this, like I do. I-fuck it-I’m in love with you, Mando.” And then you’re shying away from him again, biting your lip as you search his visor for a reaction. 

You’re in love with him? This has to be a joke. Din waited for the catch, standing unmovingly in front of you as if waiting for one of your signature punchlines to come tumbling out of your mouth. When it doesn’t, he just gaped at you, his mind overwhelmed with too many thoughts to even say anything. A part of him had never been happier than this moment right here; never loved you more than right now. But the other, more dominant part of him was practically reprimanding him. And what now, idiot? Profess your undying love to her and subject her to a life as the wife of a bounty hunter? No comfortable homes, no proper vacations or even neighbors. A life on the run. With you, dikuit - a man who has never been loved enough to understand how to reciprocate. There is nothing you can give her. There is nothing you can do. 

Din bristled under your gaze, suppressing a wince at the words that came out of his mouth next. “You mean to tell me that you are in love with a man you have never even see the face of? A man who hasn’t even told you his name? Stop lying to yourself. There is no ‘family’. You are the child’s caretaker, and nothing more. It would be best for you not to forget that in the future.” He wanted to slap a hand to his mouth, to bite his tongue - anything, anything not to see the way you wilted in front of him as his words registered. You slumped further in the chair, shoulders curving inwards as you brought your knees to your chest to curl up into a protective position, as if he was hurting you. Frustrated by the fact that he could neither pull you in his arms to comfort you, nor find it in himself to continue spewing bullshit he didn’t mean, Din just turned and walked away. He pretended not to hear the muffled crying echoing through the ship that night. 

——————————————————————————————————

That had been three weeks ago. He’d gone for a hunt right after, returning within the week. What he found back at the ship made a part of him wish he wouldn’t have returned at all. Your eyes sat bloodshot on hollow cheeks, sunken in your face as dark blotches formed under them. You were quiet, even with the concerned child - all the singing, humming goneas if it had never been. Grogu kept gesturing to you when he father looked his way, as if asking what was wrong. Din knew what was wrong. He just didn’t know how to fix it. He couldn’t find it in himself to leave you alone again, so he’d been mumbling excuses to you each morning as to why he was still on the ship. You’d never answer, just offering him the barest dip of your chin. Din hadn’t just rejected you-he’d been cruel about it. And he hadn’t slept since the night he’d spat those pathetic words at you in an effort of self-preservation, either. The moment kept replaying in his head over and over: your initial nervousness, the words you’d said to him, and your wince at the ones he’d reciprocated with. 

But like he’d admitted: Din Djarin was not a strong man. For you; only for you, he would crumble. To see your usual cheeriness replaced by this emptiness nearly made his knees buckle. You’d stopped eating, too - quietly slipping your food to Grogu, whose concern was overridden by his constant hunger. He’d done this: out of fear of hurting you, he’d reduced you to a mere shadow of what you used to be by doing it anyways. Out of his fear of fucking it up, he’d gone and done that exact thing without even trying to make it work. It was unacceptable to him, to go without hearing your laugh or your jokes or your humming. Not to see you giggling with Grogu. Fix it then, dikuit. So he would. 

Din walked into the cockpit, picked Grogu up from his place on the floor, and whispered a soft apology to him before shutting him in his cot. Grogu, ever-understanding, had just pressed a claw to his helmet and nodded as if wishing him luck. Thanks kid, I’m going to need it. He’d seen your confusion when he had taken Grogu out of the cockpit, but youremained mute. Walking back towards you, Din could feel his chest hurting at the way your hands shook and your eyes glossed over when he got closer. 

“I’m sorry.” His words have no effect; a tilt of your head is the only proof you offer to show that you heard him. Ironic, isn’t it, to be at the receiving end of what I do to others all the time? “For how harsh I was. I didn’t mean it.” Your mouth opens this time, but he raises a hand to stop you. If he doesn’t get this out now, he never will. “I was the one lying to myself, not you. I fell in love with you a long, long time ago, ner’karta. But I was scared-still am-because I have nothing good to give you. Not like what you deserve. My creed alone means that I can’t show you my face until we get married. My job doesn’t allow me stability. I have never been…loved. I do not know how to love you properly. All I know is that it doesn’t feel like a good morning until you say it, that I feel myself flushing under my beskar when you smile at me, that I have to bite my lip to stop a chuckle when you tell me your jokes. All I know is that since you’ve come into my life and made it brighter, it seems I can’t face the darkness alone again. These past two weeks have been hell, cyar’ika. I cannot bear to see you like this. Please forgive me. I will drop you off anywhere you wish to go.” 

And then your face is twisting and you’re sobbing - large, shuddering sobs that alarm Din when they begin. He reaches a tentative hand out towards you slowly, giving you more than enough opportunity to slap it away. When you don’t, he steps closer and pulls you into his chest. As I should have done then. You shake with the force of your hiccups, and Din reaches to rip off his gloves before wrapping his arms around you, a warm hand coming to cradle your head against him. All he can say is a feverish repetition of “I’m sorry, I’m sorrymy love, please forgive me”. 

By the time your tears subside, you can hear sniffs coming from under the helmet too; his modulated voice cracking and giving away his own crying. “Y-you don’t get to-to decide for me. You can’t decide whether or not you can offer enough or whether you can love me properly or not. Just love me, Mando. All you have to do is try.” Your voice is so fragile, so tentative as you speak into his chest that Din’s heart aches at the pain he can hear in it. You continue, “I don’t need stability from you, nor do I need your name or face. To have your heart is enough.” And though you can’t see it, Din has to shut his eyes and brace himself against the weight of his own tears this time. His chest warming, butterflies in his stomach as he tucks you impossible closer.

“Like I said, cyar’ika, you’ve had it for a very long time.” And then you’re smiling again, as Din’s knees threaten to buckle from the force of emotion that wells up at the sight. You’ve pulled back from his chest, but stay close enough to graze his helmet with your nose.

“Is that so, Mando? Do I want to know how long?” You whisper back, somehow looking straight into his eyes despite the visor. 

“Din.” At your frown, he clarifies hesitantly. “My name, cyar’ika. Din Djarin.” You beam brighter, repeating it to yourself. “Wait - cyar’ika? You started calling me that last year, when you were annoyed I bought that fuzzy green hat with frog ear and Grogu tried to eat it on the way home. I thought it was like a swear word, or something -not that I think you would swear at me, you just seemed very annoyed, you know?”

A chuckle slips past his modulator, before he gives in completely. “Close your eyes, please.” When you comply, he rips his helmet off and cups your jaw with his hand, thumb stroking your cheek. Leaning in, he presses his mouth to yours gently, leaning back to look at you. “Beloved, cyare. It means beloved.” Before he can say anything else, your hands tangle in his hair, and suddenly you’re pulling him back into another kiss. And another. And another. 

You two remain so wrapped up in each other that you actually forget to leave the cockpit until Grogu stomps in, having apparently broken out of his cot, and begins babbling at you both angrily, before seeing the smile on your face after so long and hurtling towards you at full speed, nearly tripping on his robes in the process before you catch him in your arms. 

It was true, though. You didn’t need Din to go out of his way to give you anything. This was enough. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore

[nerdy-catfish]

Silm Ways to Die

Kill a dragon and then yourself Run afoul of the Kinslaying Elves Be crushed by God with the biggest mountain Break both your arms and then drown in a fountain

Dumb ways to die So many dumb ways to die Dumb ways to die-ie-ie So many dumb ways to die

Set on fire by your dad Make Sauron really mad Be poisoned by a javelin thrust Fight all the Balrogs then spontaneously combust

Dumb ways to die So many dumb ways to die Dumb ways to die-ie-ie So many dumb ways to die

Insult some Dwarves to their face Get crushed by Morgoth's mace Take advice from the guy who's really cursed Stabbed by your best friend; that's just the worst

Dumb ways to die So many dumb ways to die Dumb ways to die-ie-ie So many dumb ways to die

Enrage the father of the Black Sword Fight a suicidal battle with the Dark Lord Believe what Sauron says about your wife is true I wonder … what does this Silmaril do?

Dumb ways to die So many dumb ways to die Dumb ways to die-ie-ie So many dumb ways to die

Have a bunch of kids and then eat yourself alive Have one great kid then refuse to be revived Get thrown off a wall while kidnapping your cousin Jump in a volcano after stealing a Silmaril Have such amazing hair that it kills you They may not rhyme, but they're quite possibly

Dumbest ways to die The dumbest ways to die Dumbest ways to die-ie-ie-ie So many dumb So many dumb ways to die

---

Characters referenced as well as explanations are under the cut in case you want to guess:

Túrin Turambar (killed Glaurung and later threw himself on his sword) Unspecified residents of Alqualondë, Doriath, and Sirion Ar-Pharazôn (buried under falling hills in Aman. He was probably not crushed by Taniquetil itself, and is possibly not technically dead, but poetic license.) Ecthelion (in The Fall of Gondolin he's said to have lost the use of both his arms but still managed to kill Gothmog the Balrog by stabbing him with a spike on his helmet and then throwing them both into a fountain)

Amrod (in one version he was asleep on the Swan-ships when Fëanor set them on fire) Celebrimbor (refused to give Sauron the location of the Three Rings, so Sauron tortured him to death, shot him full of arrows, and displayed his corpse as a war banner in front of his relatives) Aredhel (killed by a poisoned javelin thrown by her husband Eöl) Fëanor (fought with several Balrogs almost alone and received mortal wounds, and his body fell to ashes as his spirit left him)

Thingol (insulted the Dwarves who had set the Silmaril in the Nauglamir for him, so they killed him) Finwë (killed by Morgoth while defending Fëanor's house. In some versions his head is said to have been crushed.) Orodreth (listened to Túrin's counsel about the bridge of Nargothrond, which caused it to be discovered and lead to his death) Beleg (tried to free Túrin and was mistaken and killed by him for an Orc)

Mîm (killed by Húrin for his betrayal of Túrin) Fingolfin (rode out to duel Morgoth alone after Dagor Bragollach) Gorlim (betrayed Barahir's outlaws to Sauron in exchange for being set free to be with his wife; Sauron then killed him since his wife was already dead) Dior (refused to give up the Silmaril which led the Fëanorians to attack Doriath)

Ungoliant (had many spider children including Shelob and eventually ate herself when her hunger grew too great) Míriel (spent her spirit in giving birth to Fëanor and then bound herself to stay in Mandos forever) Maeglin (laid hands on Idril during the Fall of Gondolin and was thrown from the walls by Tuor) Maedhros (cast himself into a fiery chasm after he was burned by the Silmaril. I really don't think it can have been any named volcano but "gaping chasm filled with fire" does fit the technical definition of "volcano") Glorfindel (fought a Balrog on a mountain pass who dragged him off the cliff to his death by his hair)

---

Thanks for playing! Remember to never 1v1 a Balrog, love not too well the work of your hands, never swear any oaths, and always listen to your wife.

[weirdfangirly]

The Whore —18+

Dark Fiction

Dark!Mando x Reader // Dark!Joel Miller x Reader

Summery: you are a prostitute in Tattooian and encounter the infamous Mandalorian.

Warnings: mention of Slavery, Forced prostitution, Abuse, Sexual abuse.

A/n: Y’all fuck with Mando? Well now you do ☺️ this was a quick, fun little thing to write. Please let me if you liked it or not and if it’s worth a part 2. Tbh the only reason I’m back is because of you guys feedback on my other stories! So every comment and like means a lot!!

It was a terribly hot day in Tatooine.

Sweat was dripping down your bare back. Your delicate skin was shimmering under the sunlight.

The hot sand burned your feet and the heat was pressing onto your skull. You and your sisters were sitting outside the whore-house. It was even more unpleasant inside than it was outside; no windows, no air conditioning, designed to make the stay quick. There was also the sickening smell of sex lingering inside the rooms.

Having nothing else to do but to wait, your sister Nika was lazily braiding your hair. The other girls sat on the ground, with thin cloths over their heads, to protect them from the merciless heat.

In the early noon hours the rush of men was small. Your usual customers where Traveler's and merchant’s, but the barbaric temperatures didn’t bring many visitors down to the otherwise busy bazaar of Tatooine, leaving you and your sisters redundant.

“What if none will come?”, Nika dared to ask. She spoke out loud what all of you were thinking. No customer meant no credits, no credits meant trouble…

“They’ll come in the later hours.”, you reassured her, not sounding convinced. “Today will be dry, though...”

“He will be very angry at us...”, Lala murmured. She was four years younger than you, making her the youngest of the group. She shouldn’t be working at a place like this for a man like him.

They all agreed in silence.

“Maybe we shall wander.”, Nika suggested. “Maybe we will find willing men in the taverns and canteens.”

Each of you were tired and exhausted, walking around the city was the least you wanted to do, but Nika's suggestion was justified. You couldn't just sit around all day and do nothing. Master would be furious if the four of you didn't have enough credits together by the end of the day.

You all nodded and wandered away. Each on their own way. Each with the same goal.

———

The streets where deserted. Your stomach growled, your tongue were dry, your eyelids heavy and sluggish. Food was a reward for you and your sisters at the end of every day. Food was given only if you brought your master enough credits. The owners of the taverns usually didn't like to spot one of you fishing for customers in their locals.They used to chase you away like cattle. Some took pity and let you stay, gave you water. However, this was rare.

Hesitantly you entered a tavern. The smell of strong alcohol and fat crept up your nose. The owner, an old fat man, stood behind the bar and cleaned the counter. He looked incredibly bored. He occasionally whipped the sweat away from his bearded face. There wasn’t many guests present. A few had their heads on the table and slept out their alcohol intoxication.

Your gaze wandered around the tavern, hoping to find someone who wasn't too drunk and looked like he had enough money to pay you for your services. You couldn't be picky. Anyone who could pay was eligible. No matter how old he was, whether he was fat or stank. Your body wasn't yours, your choices weren't yours. You belonged to your master, who saved you from death and gave you and the other girls a home.

“Hey, whore! Out with you!”, Screamed the landlord upset when he spotted you. “Out with you!”

You stood there unable to run out when he stomped towards your direction and roughly grabbed you by your upper arm. “You work for Joel Miller, right?”

“Y-yes, sir.”, you had the attention of the whole tavern now.

“Then out with you!” he breathed angrily. “That son of a bitch owes me 200 credits and I’ll be DAMNED if I let one of his whores search for customers in my tavern!”

“I’m sorry, Sir.”, you whimpered, but the old man only intensified his grip on your arm, looking you up and down. You were only wearing a semi-see through robe bound around your breasts and a little skirt around your hips that only covered so much. There was a shift in his eyes. He licked his lips and came closer to your face. “You should suck my cock in front of everyone while I’m at work to pay off your masters credits, no?”

A round of cheerful applause came from the few customers of the tavern. The idea of a free show seemed appealing to the men, a change of sight in their boring routines. You were terrified at the thought. The old man was digging his long dirty claws into your arm, causing your tender skin to break and draw blood. Salty tears started to form around your eyes.

“Please, sir, I’m sorry for trespassing, please let me go. I’ll talk with my master. He's an honourable man. He'll settle his debts to you.”, you hiccuped, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“Honourable? Ha! He’s a piece of shit.”, the man spat. “Now get down on your knees and give us a show, cunt.”

“Let her go.”, a deep muffled voice cam from behind. The room was suddenly deadly quite, the cheerful laughter had died and only your little sobs were audible.

“This is non of your business, Mandalorian.”, the man informed the stranger. “Me and the cunt have business to attempt.”

“Let her go…or don’t.”, the Mandalorian calmly said. There was a clear warning lingering around his words. A thread.

The old man weighed out his options. You couldn't see the man behind you, because the old man still had you in his grip, but you'd often encountered fantastic stories about the Mandalorians. And if there's even a shred of truth behind these stories, it's best not to mess with them.

The man holding you was old and in bad shape. His stomach was big enough to carry triplet’s and his face was swollen and red. He didn’t look like a fighter. There was no way he’d win a fight against a Mandalorian. The old man looked at the Mandalorian and then back at you, decided that you weren’t worth the trouble and tossed you to the stranger behind you. Your back collided with his hard armour.

You quickly turned around, not even looking up at the Mandalorian, offered him and equally quick “thank you, sir” and rushed out of the tavern. At least that was the plan, but the Mandalorian had grabbed you softly by your wrist.

“Stay.”

———

The Mandalorian led you to a table and made you sit with him. You couldn’t stop staring at him from beneath your long lashes. He was tall, so much taller than you, even sitting down. You were practically naked compared to him. The little robe around you chest left little to nothing to the imagination. And it was hot, you were sweating. You could feel your nipples poking at the scratchy fabric and something told you it didn’t went unnoticed by the Mandalorian.

What did he want from you? Well, you were a whore, so you took a wild guess…

You were nervous and a little terrified, but you tried to remind yourself that he’d saved you from being utterly humiliated in front of everyone. He couldn’t be that bad of a man. And besides, his armour looked expensive. Berska. He must’ve been a rich man. You thought about your Master, and your sisters. You needed to bring money home.

You thought about your Masters lessons. He thought you and your sisters to never be shy around men. You stared at his helmet, swallowing you fear down and let your fingers slowly creep across the table towards his gloved hand. You needed to show him that you were fun and worth every credit. He followed your movement and watched your boney fingers touch his gloved ones.

“Thank you for saving me, Mister.”, you murmured, your voice small but sincere. “I’m in your dept.”

“No, your not.”, he simply stated and leaned back in his seat, taking his hand with him, leaving your fingers untouched. You blushed and immediately pulled your hand back.

“But there’s something you can do for me.”, he added.

You nodded, eager to have your first customer for the day. “I’ll not disappoint, Mister. But…I have to remind you, that I have to charge for my time...”

For some reason you felt shameful reminding him of your nature. He’d just saved you from physical and emotional pain and here you were wanting his credits. Your Masters words we’re back in your mind. Whores don’t feel shame.

“I will pay you.”, he agreed.

You nodded. “I have a room, down the streets. We would’ve more privacy there.”, you suggested.

“No.”, he just said. “I don’t have that kind of business with you.”

“If you don’t find me pretty, maybe you’d wish to see one of my sis-“

He wasn’t declining your body because of your looks. He did find you to be breathtakingly beautiful and he was thankful that he was wearing a helmet so you couldn’t see where his eyes wandered a couple of times.

“Joel Miller.”, he spoke the very familiar name out loud. “Where can I find him?”

Your lips suddenly sealed, you looked at him fearfully. “Are you a bounty hunter?”, you dared to ask.

Mando nodded.

You shook your head, mouth dry. “I can’t help you. I can’t betray my Master like that. Please, Mandalorian, let me go.”, fear was talking out of you. Mando could see the change in your demeanour after he’d mentioned his name.

“You are free to go wherever, after you’ve told me what I need to know.”

“If he finds out that I helped you, he will throw me to the dogs.”, you started to cry. You were intimidated by the Mandalorian, you didn’t want any trouble. But you feared your Master more than anything.

“He won’t get the opportunity to hurt you, after I’m done with him.”, he started. “You will be a free woman afterwards.”

Mando watched your body shiver under your cries. You soft flesh and your bouncing breasts. Mando titled his head. He wondered what your life must’ve been like. He wondered what Joel Miller had done to you to make you so afraid of him.

“You can go.”, Mando finally said. It came surprising, but not purely out of good intentions...

You sniffled, looking at him in disbelief, but his words left no room for hesitation. With tears welling up in your eyes, you stood up abruptly and bolted out of the tavern.

Mando slowly stood up right after. He left some credits and walked out of the tavern into the heat of the day. He knew all he had to do was follow you to get to his destination. Joel Miller.

[slimybeth69]

Touch: Part 7

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary: Your future with Din seems bleak in the darkness of the ship, that is...until it's not so dark anymore.

Warnings: Consume at your own risk. No tags due to chapter spoilers. Non-spoiler disclaimer- Scenes from the Mandalorian season 3. The story arc diverts from canon, but it does follow the series pretty closely for a couple chapters.

wc: ~13k

a/n- sorry for another no tag/warning chapter. if you need to see a list of the potential things in here, refer back to the series masterlist to see what tags could be upsetting to you.

a/n pt 2: I try so hard to make sure that this is formatted correctly, and makes sense and flows well. I work on the dialogue a little bit-- and it's gonna have mistakes and maybe a spelling error. UNBETA'ED PROOFREAD BY TIRED EYES.

Sleep doesn't come to you easily that night. The only thing you can feel is the shattering of your heart- and it's turning into real, physical pain. It's like something alive and venomous crawled inside your stomach, and is twisting, stinging— biting you, as it moves all around, making you feel sick.

You wonder what Mando is doing now while you lay here all alone in the silence of your room— he probably is sitting in the cockpit, driving you right back to Cantonica. That's probably exactly what he did when he got up and left without a word! Turned the ship around so he could drop you off at Canto Bight Casino.

You could be a tender again, maybe a waitress too. Maybe your room in that woman's house was still available. You still had some credits saved up from before.

You'd be okay.

Everything was going to be just fine now that you didn't have to worry about Mando coming to ask to touch and watch, or put things inside you that weren't him- even though you've never stopped thinking about him, and those nights you shared together. They run through your mind at least once a day— sometimes more.

Mando won't bother you in the night to call you nice, sweet things, and to make your heart feel bigger and also lighter at the same time, somehow. Mando won't come to touch you and watch you and make between your legs feel things. too. Good things. Amazing things. 

Eventually, after every single tear left inside of you has been cried out, you drift off to sleep.

The heat that wakes you up isn't confined to just your upper arm like it had been the night you came home from the temple. It encapsulates you, it overtakes everything that you are, and you love it because it's familiar.

You hum, ignoring all the sadness and anger that had been inside of you just hours ago before your teary eyes closed for the last time that night.

Strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you in close. A calm, pacifying voice whispers, "You think I do not care for my little one?"

"You're mad at me," you murmur, pushing your body back against his as tightly as you can, savoring in all of this. "Gonna leave me," you almost whimper, stealing all of the warmth you can from him, even though it's almost too much.

Hands as hot as the sun roam across the supple, soft curves of your body through your clothing. It's hard to think about anything other than the way he feels pressed against you like this, the way that his fingers tease you, tugging the hem of your shirt just over the of soft, gentle curve of your stomach before his hands move to your thighs, or up over your chest to your neck.

He is all over you, and you feel drunk because of—Mando!

"Get out—" you huff, pushing his exploring hands off your eager and excited body. "-of my—"You've betrayed yourself at the hands of a trickster! A slithering sneak who slips into your bed under the veil of the void. "-bed!"

It's probably he fact that you're twisting and turning, pushing against him, and trying to get him out of your bed that brings an urgency to his explanations. Din grips both of your wrists in his hands, his fingers closing around them completely.

"Listen to me, please, pretty girl in her white dress," His soft whisper in your ear melt your spine into liquid that pools somewhere in the core of you. The words, and the way he says them so softly, smooth like the richest velvet you've ever felt, quell the rage inside of you. “You need to understand that I have to wear my helmet,but I would show you if it would tell you how much I care."

There is no inflection, or teasing in his voice. The Mandalorian is serious, and it makes your heart almost still completely in your chest.

“Mando—"

“If you call me Mando again," his voice growls in your ear, but he sounds almost hurt or offended, like he can't believe you're still calling him that. "Offers revoked."

Shit.

There isn't enough time for you to say anything else before he continues.

"I left earlier because I was upset with you…for being upset with me," he starts, his lips pressed to your ear tightly so he makes sure you can hear him. "I was selfish, I should have stayed here with you," he sighs, his breath plumes against the side of your face, and you inhale to take in the sweet scent of him, and it makes your head spin.

This isn't how you wanted this to happen! Din was supposed to show you his face because he wanted to, not because you guilt him into doing it!

The last two years you thought of all the ways you could get him to show you his face and now, you only want one way. For him to want to show you. Not because you made him feel badly for not showing you.

Maker!

“Din, you don’t have to show me— this isn't what I want.” There is hesitation in your voice because you're reluctant to say it, but it's the truth

Din stiffens behind you, his grip on your wrist goes slack, but his mouth stays pressed to your ear.

Everything in the ship is quiet besides him breathing quietly.

“You’re right, though. I should have shown you before I left, like I showed Grogu. I hoped the talk we had the night before was enough. You said you’d do it for free, and I thought…” Din trails off.

You hate when he does that. You never need to. All your thoughts are front and center at all times ready to be said fully at any given moment. And he’s always searching inside that head for something to say.

“I hoped the meaning behind me making Luke and Ahsoka let you stay was worth more than words," he breathes against the shell of your ear.

If you’re really thinking back on it right now in this bed…the man did wait two years for you. Beskar-man got you a pretty focus crystal, said he’d get you a lightsaber to put it in. Took you into his clan earlier…he’s never done that before.

He said he came to visit, and was denied entry.

Din only mirrored your reaction getting off the return ship to the hangar to see him. 

Shit.

"Why did you hope it would be enough?" It comes out a whisper, and croaked because of how dry your mouth is.

It feels like the ship hit turbulence, but really, it's just your body trembling— vibrating in anticipation.

What could he mean?

Din's breath grows shaky, like he might be just as scared as you. He starts to say something, but is so hesitant now, like maybe this was too scary, even for Din. 

There isn't a time that you can remember him being scared- not that you've seen at least.

"What if you don't like it— what if you don't like me?" He finally says, and the words stab you right in the heart. "Would you still… do all of this for free?"

Din releases your wrists from his grasp; you hadn't even realized he was still holding on to you because you had stopped fighting him the minute he asked. He places his hands on top of your shaking ones, and slips his fingers in the spots between yours.

Deep down you are kind of scared because…what if you don’t like it? 

What if he was warning you that first night about you doodles that he didn’t look the way that you thought? 

What if he puts that helmet on and never takes it off because what’s under it isn’t nice to look at?

What if the man who has been touching you, and being so good to you; who you think you could potentially be in love with…isn’t what you want to look at?

What do you do then?

Din can put that helmet back on all he wants, but you’ll know.

You’ll know, and you’ll never be able to un-know what his face looks like. 

Maker. Maker. Maker.You are a special star- you are. A sick star!

This is unfair. Absolute shit timing, and situation.

Putting you in this position to know? How dare Din, and Maker himself, do this to you!?

Even though this is all you want!

Just not like this!

Another part of you thinks that you couldn’t ever not care for the man who is under that helmet. Despite his looks, right? You’re not shallow, not really. As you think back on it right now, he’s done everything for you, and is willing to do the most everythingright now. By showing you his face.

How do the clans of Mand'alor work? What is their religion? Who are the people of that planet that had been destroyed so long ago?

Bathe in the living waters. What’s livingin the waters? Why does he have to wash himself in them?

You’re unsure. If it was explained in the cave— you blacked out for a minute looking at the nice sand. It felt like you had sand in your ears for most of the conversation.

It's no wonder you don’t know shit about fuck-all right now.

You stare at the wall in front of you, looking at all the rivets and welds that keep this giant, metal monstrosity together while it flies through the sky—

Hold on just one Maker-loving second! You can see things!?

There are all different shades of blue and purple and white filling the room. You tilt your head up and look out the windows, and all those colors are streaking past so quickly, it's all a blur. It's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You realize how fast you're moving when you look at it.

If you turned around right now…you'd be able to see Din. His voice has been non-modulated this whole time, his warm cheek and scratchy facial hair has been present against the side of your head since you woke up.

You shut your eyes so tight it almost hurts,

You flip around in Din’s arms, and pepper kisses across his entire face because you can. He's right here in your bed, and you can touch him, feel him, kiss him as much as you want- but you won't look.

You start speaking quickly, urgently— because you feel like such an ass, such a dumb idiot for because you were selfish. Everything he did for you, starting from the notebook, the credits to go to the market, the opportunity given to only you to train with the Jedi? How many others get that? The focus crystal?

He also could have completely kept you in the dark about all of this. Made you stay on the ship while the Armor lady Mandalorian reamed his ass out for taking off that stupid helmet.

Din didn't do that though, he gave you an opportunity to hear the truth and now, he's offering to show you his face.

“Din, I’m so sorry. I’ve been so ungrateful. I care for you so much- with the helmet. It’s enough. You’re enough with the helmet.” You keep your eyes shut tight–and you're glad you do, because you could cry again. You feel so foolish for not appreciating him more."

“Open your eyes, little one in the white dress. Please, before it’s too late and I have to put it back on again for good.” Din moves his face closer to you, the tip of his nose touching yours, his warm breath on your lips.

Din kisses you lightly, his lips are so soft, and so warm just like the rest of him. His hand gently presses into the small of your back.

“Is it going to change everything?” You mumble against his lips, worried.

You're worried everything’s going to be different. What does all this mean? You'll get to see his face once, and then never again? 

Do you get beskar’gam like Grogu did? Do you have to learn Mando’a? Because it’s hard! You hear Din speak it sometimes, and it sounds so hard to learn!

You don’t know anything, and you can’t find the strength in your lungs to make the words come out. What is going on? This is a dream. Has to be.

“I don’t want it to change. I want you to rest your head down at night knowing I care,” Din nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours gently. "Rest your head down on me at night— every night."

You exhale loudly—

"Were you holding your breath?" Din chuckles, and steals another quick kiss before you can say anything, or even react to what he said, “This way you know, you can stop wondering. You’d have something to think about besides the helmet.” Din’s voice is so soothing.

If your heart wasn’t about to speed out of your chest and hide somewhere else in the ship his voice could lull you to sleep.

“I willhave to leave again, like before, but I’ll ask you to come when it’s not too dangerous. I won’t keep you trapped here like before.” Din’s offering all you want. To be with him sometimes off the ship. To come with him.

“You want me to look?” You ask again.

This is really going to happen this is not a dream.

Din’s one-million-degree body lets you know that you're not still asleep. This is all really happening, and you’re going to see him for the first and probably last time. That’s okay with you.

Honestly, he could tell you he’s too nervous— and you’d say that you were too and you could both just go to sleep. Your heart, dear Maker, your heart is beating and pounding so fast, there is no way he cannot feel it pressed up against you like this. 

“Yes. Please look. I want you to see.” Din speaks so softly and so calmly and he doesn’t sound nervous or uncomfortable anymore. Just amazed to be here sharing this little bed with you. 

The calm quietness of the ship is ruined by screaming alarms. Loud ones. Bright, flashing lights fill the ship.

Everything inside of you feels like I could jump right out and lay beside you on the bed.

As fast as the alarms went off, you and Din start scrambling, limbs flailing. Your elbow connects with something hard, and then Din groans loudly.

"Did I!?" You exclaim, already knowing what you've done.

You clamor out of the bed Din is already standing beside, and has his hands covering his nose and most of face.

But you can see his eyes, and they’re dark and perfect—and he’s bleeding.

Fuck.

Everything is so loud, it feels impossible even form one single helpful thought with the alarms going off, you just stand there looking dumbstruck.

Din runs out of the room with blood dripping from his hands and elbows leaving little droplets on the ground.  You run into the main hull and look for some sort of first aid kit to help the man whose nose you just probably broke, but you see nothing.

The hallway back to your room is flashing red and white over and over and you think you’re going to pass out. It’s so fucking loud.

There is blood dripping all down the hall to where Din took off, probably the cockpit.

The kid is wailingfrom his room and now you’re on the verge of tears too. Grogu can wait. You need to clean up this blood first. You forget where everything is on the ship, your memory embarrasses you while you try to remember how to clean something up. You’re not thinking clearly. It’s so loud and so overwhelming. Oh, Maker. 

The alarms and the lights stop, and finally there is some semblance of calm.

It's so much easier to think clearly when the ship isn't screaming at you. Cleaning supplies are in the dining area, under the sink.

The drops of blood are focused mainly in the sleeping quarters. You can think again. You start to grab everything you need and start the job of cleaning the mess.

The whole ship rumbles enough rock you from side to side gently, and you hear the hydraulics of an opening door below you. There must be a carrier down there, but you're not completely sure.

There wasn't much Din wasn't willing to show you, but he said one door in this new ship was off limits to Grogu and you- while you were still angry with him- so you didn't even question him.

Where is Din going though? Why didn’t he come say goodbye?

Cleaning the little droplets of blood that start in the bedroom next to your bed, you work you way out into the hallway.

While you're cleaning, your mind races with what happened in the bedroom just a couple minutes ago. With everything that happened between him asking you to look, and right now, it feels like a lifetime has passed.

Din Djarin- the mystery man with a helmet and a secret face. A secret life that you know nothing about, as much as you wished you knew, Din doesn't talk about his life.

There hadn't been much for you to share about your life, either. So, the both of you had just fallen into a routine of being comfortable in each other's presence, touching and talking about easy things.

Grogu has stopped crying, but you’ll still go check on him in a minute. It’s just too much with the blood and the kid and the bleeding man. 

As you stand up Din rounds the corner in his full beskar minus his gloves—

With a woman…who is also in beskar. Her armor is nowhere near as loose fitting as Din’s, and doesn’t leave anythingto the imagination. She is beautiful with shoulder length red hair, and perfect lips that fit her face so well. She's a couple inches taller than you, but most of the people in beskar you've met are larger than you in some way.

“This is Bo-Katan.” Din's rasp cuts through the awkward silence that fills the ship. “I need to go with her for a while, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Then we will go to Nevarro. I’ve already turned the autopilot on so we’ll be closer when I get back. I won’t be long.”

Your eyes flick between Din and this woman, Bo-Katan. “Okay…” You force an uncomfortable, and awkward smile. Suddenly, you feel very exposed in only your nightgown. “Have…fun…okay.” You turn and walk into Grogu’s room and try to shut the door.

There isn’t enough space for you, and you have to stand on his little tiny bed to shut it. Now you’re standing on your tip toes, feet angled and shifting so they don’t step on the baby - who is now staring up at you, confused as to why you're in here, and possibly how. You don’t know how you got in here, either.

You’re pretty sure this is a broom closet that Din put a little tiny bed in.

Oh Maker.

Din and a woman? Out in the galaxy together? Alone? Doing what exactly? He didn’t explain.

You scoop the child into your arms and open the door, peering out into the hallway.

It's empty, so you take this opportunity to scurry down the hall towards the room you and Din share.

Bo-Katan comes out of one of the weapons rooms as you try and sneak by, and slam right into her.

Grogu makes an annoyed, sleepy warble and curls up into your arms.

“I’m so sorry," you apologize and hold your hand out and it lands right on her left tit. You stare at your hand on her breast for several seconds before removing it. “I’m so sorry about that, too.” You look at her. Your lips pressed tightly together. “I’m so sorry. I just woke up.” You lie and purse your lips again and point past her to the room one door past the weapons room. “That’s my room," talking for no reason is what you're doing.

You also just touched her boob.

Which is exactly what Din was probably running off to do with her in the night!!

“It’s okay. Don’t be sorry, I’m the one who crashed your slumber party.” She winks at you. She’s so pretty. Her pretty red hair and her perfectly shaped lips. You’ll have to ask Din later if she’s a good kisser or not.

Humph.

You hate Bo-Katan— Not really. She was wonderful– but why did she wink at you?

Why is Miss Pretty red hair and perfect lips here in the night winking at you? Because she can come in whenever in the night and steal Din right from under you?

Because she sure did. Stole him right out of your bed and made you possibly break his nose. She made you miss your opportunity to see the lower half of his face. 

“Where’s your helmet?”You blurt the question out suspiciously before you can even stop yourself from thinking about asking her. You just noticed that she had perfect hair and pretty lips and now, you’re just saying the first thing that comes to your head apparently. It just came out all fast and dumb, you couldn’t even control it. “I’m so sorry, again. That was so rude.” You’re so embarrassed. Could just crawl right into any one of these nameless holes in this ship and die kind of embarrassed. You’re here blurting out questions to the beautiful Bo-Katan in your nightgown that you realize now has some blood on it. Shit. 

“No, it’s okay! Don’t be sorry.” She shakes her head and puts a gloved hand on your shoulder. You look down at it and she removes it slowly but you wish she hadn’t. She was so gentle and small and felt nice. “I’m not from the same clan as Mando. We just bear different religions and ideas. I don’t have to sport mine all the time.” Bo-Katan winks at you again! Why is she winking at you!? “Our ideals aren’t as severe and old-fashioned as his.” 

Din himself comes from around the corner as she says this as you flick your head to him. He looks between the two of you and Grogu who has passed out again in your arms. 

“I’m sleeping with him tonight.” You say for no reason. Din nods and puts his second glove on. “I’ll see you…soon?” Din nods again and presses his forehead to yours, one hand on the back of your neck. He holds you there.

See this Bo? Hmm? Do ya? 

Din lets you go and rambles off the list. 

“Be safe. Don’t let anyone on. Don’t get off. I’ll be back tonight. Soon. Hopefully.” Din nods and then looks down at Bo-Katan. She is still looking at you, smiling softly. 

“I’ll make sure he gets back to you. Don’t fret.” You wait for her to wink again but she doesn’t this time. She puts another gentle hand on your shoulder; as if she’s trying to comfort you? Maybe she feels bad for you? Because she's about to go touch him like you do!? What is happening? Din gave youforehead touches, which you assume is a sign of affection from him to you when he can’t take his helmet off. You like it. 

Bo-Katan…and her helmet-less head. Who is this woman? How does Din know her? She’s an associateof his. You wonder how oftenand how wellthey’ve been associated.She was nice to you though. And gave you a gentle touch. 

Are you…touch starved?

The thought starts racing through your head as they walk down the hallway.

Why did her touch feel so good? So comforting. And that’s dumb because Din waited two years– Did Din wait for two years? Oh, my Maker. Was this a woman who he had been gallivanting around the stars with while his paid babysitter and touch womanwas indisposed? 

No. 

That didn’t happen. Nope. Not even a little bit. is just someone Din knows. Din can know people. You know people. You know Luke and Ahsoka. And Grogu. And some kids from the temple. And that guy from the sweets shop in the Outdoors Market or whatever it was called. Hmph. You had friends too. Din’s not the only one with friends. Hmph. 

You look around the room that’s still being streaked in all the pretty colors and you take all the blankets and lay them out on the floor. You lay Grogu down next to you and his eyes open. He makes a fascinated, intrigued warbling sound. 

“I know. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You whisper down to him.

He holds your index finger in his three little claws while you watch the stars pass by.

“Well...you’ve seen Din’s eyes, right?” You lift your head to look at Grogu and he coos softly. “Yeah, so those are the most beautiful, and then this is a close second.” You explain quietly.

The baby makes a sound like he could be agreeing with you.

“I know. They are so dark. And his forehead, Grogu.  And his hair. It was so curly and messy and dark.” You start listing off all the things you saw on Din’s face to Grogu who listens happily.

Grogu makes a shocked warble sound that stops you from your rambling list of things you saw.

"He does have a beard. I saw it tonight!" You exclaim. "When was the last time you saw his face? So long ago, it was. I saw him tonight, little green child," you taunt him.

Grogu blinks up at you silently.

"I don't mean to rub it in, I'm sorry," you cradle him to your side and press a kiss to the top of his head. "I just really can't believe it."

You look out the window and sigh. “Do you know Bo-Katan?” You ask the baby who can’t really answer you. He warbles softly. “Is she a good lady? Is she nice and trustworthy? She’ll keep him safe for us?” You look at Grogu again, but he’s asleep next to you. Fell asleep listening to your voice. 

You love Grogu. A real love. Dying for this child would be something you’d do easily. If you knew it would protect him. Grogu snuggles into you as you tuck him into the blankets and snuggle in yourself. It’s hard on the floor. It reminds you of the Crest and your mat. It makes you think of the first time Din ever touched you in the dark.

Sleep comes to you with all the blues and purples streaking overhead. 

“Little one..." Din's calm and quiet voice whispers in your ear as you feel him climb into the makeshift bed on the floor. “It’s me.” He sinks beside you and rests his head on your chest. “Touch my hair.” More quiet, non-modulated whispering.

You bring one hand sleepily to his messy, dark curls and twirl your fingers in it mindlessly. Din sighs, and relaxes against you. The child is still on the other side of you asleep. You’ve got your other arm wrapped around him.

“Is your nose okay?” You whisper to Din through a yawn. “Did I break it?” You try to sound apologetic in your sleepiness because you do feel bad. You never want to hurt Din.

Unless he’s trying to spar or fight you.

He had been being so sweet and trying to show you his face, and you hit him all because of Bo-Katan. 

“It’s fine.” Din murmurs from your chest, like he could be falling asleep. “Not broken.” A sigh and he’s got one hand on your stomach, touching your belly button under the blankets, tracing around it slowly. “W-Want to see?” You feel his body shake softly like he’s laughing.

The weight of his head lifts from your chest. You tilt your head and Din is looking up at you. He’s got one black eye and there’s blood still crusted under one nostril. You laugh at him and let your head fall back to the pillows. 

“Are you sure it’s not broken?” You smirk, your hands still in his hair. “You’re so handsome, even with the black eye and the blood.”

Din chuckles and pulls you into him by your waist, “C’mere.”

You make him rest his head back on your chest and continue to spin his hair in your fingers. You think of his face and how you just saw it and it felt so much more natural and exactly how you had wanted him to show you. Casual. Din cares. You can feel it in your heart now. “Perfect and beautiful.” You whisper into the blue-tinted darkness. “You are.” You wait for a response but Din’s already asleep on your chest. 

The next morning, Din pulls the hood over your head and covers Grogu with your robes. The child is sitting comfortably in his little bag that’s slung over your shoulder. You watch Din’s helmet as he focuses. 

“Am I going to hear any news that might upset me?” You smirk up at him as he clasps the robe closed around your neck with a small metal pin. His helmet snaps up and you can feel his eyes on you. His perfect dark eyes. 

“Stop that.” Din presses his forehead to yours. “No. Maybe. I don’t know?” He sighs, “You can’t get angry with me anymore. It’s the rules.” Then he shrugs his shoulders like he has no say in the matter. 

“You make the rules!” You exclaim.

Din nods down at you as he pulls away. “So follow them. Listen to me. Stay close.” Din rattles off more instructions as you walk down the ramp together.

This planet is nice. It’s got a nice town center and Din leads you down a stone pathway.

“Don’t stray, please.” His gloved hand reaches out for you as you take a couple of steps forward.

It’s been such a long time since you’ve been in a place with so many things, places and people to look at, it's hard to not be overwhelmed and want to explore. The city looks like it's in the process of being rebuilt, buildings are in the process of rising higher into the sky

“This is Nevarro?” You ask, looking up at Din as he looks around in the crowds.

He nods and keeps his head swiveling back and forth, observing. "It used to be a hub for pirates and the Bounty Hunter Guild, but the High Magistrate is trying to change that now." He leads you to a droid statue that’s standing tall in the center of town. "Make it nicer for the citizens that live here."

"That's very nice of the High Magistrate," you continue to watch the people walking by, and the buildings and shops that line the street.

“He’s what we came here for.” Din points at the nonoperational droid now in front of you. 

“What’d you need him for?” You raise an eyebrow and shield your eyes from the sun as you look up at the droid Din pointed to. “He’s a statue.” You point that part out to him.

Din tilts his head down to you. It’s almost like you can sense that his patience with you is worn thin already. You smile regardless, because you've seen his face, and he wouldn't show his face to just anyone. It brings you a sense of pride to know that he trusts you, cares for you enough to have let you see him like that.

and bring your hand back to your side. It slips into your robe and you rub your fingers along Grogu’s ears. He gives you a satisfied sound of enjoyment as you do. 

“Where are we going now?” You ask Din excitedly as he leads you into the crowd. His strong hand finds your upper arm and he holds you close to him. “Are we going somewhere nice? Ooh! Somewhere we can get food!?” You exclaim, seeing a bakery. “Din. Din. Din. Din.” You point to the tarts and sweets in the window excitedly.

Din pushes you past the bakery, obviously in a hurry to get somewhere.

“Okay… But I want to go there before we leave.” You look back at it over your shoulder. It’s been so long since you’ve had anything that wasn’t a bowl of broth or rations. 

“Fine. We have to be somewhere now though.” Din continues to lead you through the crowd. You catch people's eyes and smile at them politely. It’s nice to be out in the world again. Not on a ship caring for a child or in a Jedi temple getting whacked with sticks. It feels good to be integrated with the galaxy again. Not just looking at it through windows. 

“Mando!” A voice calls out from behind you. You and Din both spin around. “I heard you were back, but I didn’t believe it.” The man in gold and red robes booms as he walks towards you. 

“Magistrate Karga.” Din rasps from behind the modulator. Your eyes look up to Din as he talks. You’re unsure if he likes this person yet.

“That’s High Magistrate to you.” The man laughs and slaps Din on the shoulder. 

“My aliit.” Din speaks a word of Mando’a that you’re not familiar with as he gestures to you. You’ll ask later. Grogu peeks out from behind the robe as the four of you walk into the building Din had been leading you to before the Magistrate stopped you.

Din walks with Karga up the stairs and they speak quietly to one another. You follow with Grogu still behind your robes. They lead you into a large room with a giant balcony. The High Magistrate motions for you and Grogu to sit in the chair behind his desk as he and Din walk outside the doors and look over the city.

Grogu climbs out of the bag and sits in your lap. You’re suddenly being spun around slowly. You see Grogu holding his little hand out. You try to stop him, push his hand down into his lap or something but your chair is still spinning. You put your feet down onto the floor to try and halt yourself but you just end up kicking a metal trash can from under the desk with a loud crash. 

The chair slows down and when it finally stops, Din and the Magistrate are staring at you. Grogu’s head won’t stop turning from side to side like he is still moving. You’re still dizzy, if we’re being completely honest. The room is still moving in your eyes and you just smile at Din and Karga. Holding Grogu in your lap. The trash can is still spinning beside you. 

“Sorry. It’s hard to stop him when he’s focused on something.” It comes out stuttered and nervous. “He’s just…bein’ a kid.” You pet the top of Grogu’s head softly and he makes a purring warble you’ve never heard before. You look down at him and he’s chewing on something from the Magistrates desk. “I am…so sorry.” You press your lips together tightly and attempt to take whatever the child has in his mouth away from him but he holds on tight. “Do not...embarrass me.” You whisper into his ear and pull– what you come to find is a tracking beacon– out of his mouth and set it back onto the desk in a puddle of slimy saliva. “So so sorry.” 

Din hasn’t moved, or stopped looking in your direction once since he and Karga turned around.

The Magistrate looks at you up and down and then at the child in your lap. “...as I was saying… There’s a lot of money to be made on Nevarro. Set you and your group up in a nice tract over by the hot springs.” Karga points out over the small town and out onto the edge of the city. “You, the woman, the child. Hang up your blasters. Live off the fat of the land.” 

Is that why Din brought you here? To settle down? You’d have absolutely no issues with that at all. Being Din’s woman and Grogu’s mother doesn’t sound half bad. Sounds all good, actually. You see nothing wrong with this and love that Din brought you here to live with him. He’s so smart. Take his helmet off, settle down. You can try to bake tarts and sweets and breads like in the shoppe you passed earlier. 

“Grogu.” Din says curtly.

Karga looks at him oddly and then flicks his eyes at you. “Huh?” The Magistrate looks you up and down again like he can’t believe that’s your name. 

“His name is Grogu.” Din turns again and walks to you, taking the child out of your arms; leaving you just sitting in that nice comfy, spinning chair. All alone. Din walks back to Karga and holds him up. “Grogu.”

Karga curls a lip lightly and looks back at you once more before turning back to the town below him. “If you say so,” he doesn’t sound amused. “Like I said, there is a beautiful parcel down by the flats.” 

“I appreciate the offer, but I have matters to attend to.” Din explains, less curt and more in his normal, raspy soft tone.

Your heart sinks into your stomach. It was too good to be true. You knew it deep down inside you wouldn’t be staying here. Even if you do want to bake tarts and sew Grogu new robes in a nice little house with a yard to play in. 

“Oh? I’m…confused. I thought your mission was over, but you’re still with the chi—Grogu, and the woman I've heard about. They're still with you.” Karga waves a hand at you like you’re not there.

You sit quietly and watch, just happy to be involved. Happy to not be stuck on the ship, so they can talk about you like you're not here— because you could not be here. And you don't want it to go back to that.

“I completed my quest. My aliit returned to me. I removed my helmet and now I’m an apostate.” Your head turns to Din now, looking at him now instead of Karga. 

“All the more reason for you to stay here. Where you come from, you may be an apostate but here…but here you’d be landed gentry.” The Magistrate explains to Din as he looks down from the balcony. 

Karga is right and Din should listen to him. Stay here, on Nevarro. Din can watch as you bake him tarts and play with Grogu. It’ll be perfect. 

The door to the room opens and a droid walks in. Karga groans at the intrusion and lets his head fall back in frustration. The droid explains that there are pirates in the courtyard.

You stand but Din puts his hand on your shoulder and hands Grogu back to you. 

“Stay here. Don’t move.” Din sits you back down in your chair with the child.

You humph quietly, and are left alone in the High Magistrate's office.

There is a commotion down below the balcony right outside. You go to look because Din isn’t here to tell you not to. The balcony isn’t high, maybe three or four stories up. The wind blows the hood of your head as you peek over. You’re watching as Karga and Din walk side by side down the road in the center of the courtyard. They stop at a group of mismatched pirates outside of a building. You can’t hear what they say. 

Karga steps in front of Din and begins to speak to the pirates. Just talking. Din leans against a tree a couple of feet back from him and watches. They just talk for a while. Nothing crazy and then the pirate Karga has all his attention on; walks out into the street with his hands held out down to his sides. He speaks. You wish you could hear what he was saying. Din pushes himself off the tree he’s leaning against and takes two steps forward as the pirate talks to the High Magistrate. You swallow hard as Karga pulls his red and gold robes back away from his hip. You can see the blaster pistol strapped to his thigh even from all the way up here on the balcony. 

It’s so tense. People run past them on the street below you, a woman shouts for her kids to come inside. You swallow hard again as your free hand– the one not holding Grogu to your chest for dear life– grips the stone railing of the balcony. Everyone below looks like they’re frozen in place they’re still for so long. Your heart is pounding in your throat and then it happens. They both reach for their pistols but High Magistrate Karga is faster and unholsters his weapon, aims, and shoots all before the pirate can get his pistol up to his chest. Karga disarms him; shooting the blaster pistol right out of his hand. You let out a long sigh of relief as you can hear Karga say loudly enough,

“Tell Capitan Gorian Shard that Nevarro is no longer friendly to pirates. Now get outta here.” 

There is no movement from anyone below you. It makes your heart almost beat so fast you can’t feel it. Din moves his hand slowly to the blaster pistol on his waist and you hold your breath as you know what’s about to come. It happens so fast that you almost miss it when you blink. The rest of the pirates withdraw their weapons but Karga already has his own pistol out and Din had been fingering the trigger on his for at least thirty seconds before the pirates even reached to draw. Every single one of the pirates fell to the street except for the one Karga had disarmed first. The one he had been speaking to originally. 

The High Magistrate speaks again but you can’t hear him anymore. The pirate takes off running down the stone-laid street in the opposite direction. Din turns his head and sees you on the balcony. You wiggle your fingers at him from way up in the air and turn around, back into the office you were left in.

You set Grogu down in the chair and watch as he picks up little orange pieces of candy from a bowl on the desk and brings them to his mouth with the Force. 

“You cheat. You’re a cheater.” You say to him as you grab yourself a handful of candy and begin to pace, tossing them into your mouth as you think. They crunch delightfully between your teeth with a sugary coating and then the inside is fruity and chewy– you need to find out where the High Magistrate got these– they’re phenomenal. 

Din’s not taking any offer of land on Nevarro. It makes you sad but you enjoy your time on the ship. That’s your home, even if it doesn’t really feel like one. You live there, make memories there. Watch the child learn new things. You learn new things too. Inside the ship, you learn about Din. He wants to teach you how to pilot. You’ve seen his face even if it was all beaten and bloody by your elbow. Maybe Nevarro isn’t where you’re supposed to settle down if that was ever even an option. You don’t know.

You also need to learn more Mando’a. What had Din said to Karga and did Karga even know what he called you?

Grogu ate all of the candy out of the bowl on Karga’s desk. You may have helped- it was too good. You just kept scooping up handfuls and handfuls mindlessly as you paced his office. Grogu watched you from his place in the chair. 

“What did Din come here for? Did he tell you? I think he tells you more than he tells me.”

Grogu watches as you stand in front of the desk and talk to him.

“What does he need a broken-down droid for anyway? From what I can remember him saying long ago, he doesn't like droids...or they don't like him...or something about a dislike between Din Djarin and droids?” You rest your hands on the desk and lean into Grogu. “C’mon, kid... you've gotta give me something! Anything! What are we doin-”

The door to the office opens and you snap up, taking your hands off the desk. You bring them back up behind you and turn to see Din and High Magistrate Karga walking in. 

“Sorry about that, Mrs…” Karga looks at you and then glances back at Din, who says nothing to correct him. “Mrs.” He finishes. “Just had a couple of things to take care of.” He smiles at you apologetically for leaving you here in his office. You shake your head and take a small step to the left, showing him the empty bowl where candy used to be.

“I’m the one who should be sorry. Grogu ate all your candy.” It’s a lie. You ate it all. You couldn’t stop yourself. 

“Oh, it’s easy to get. They have it in stock down at the shop on the main road. I’ll send a droid to get more. Don’t worry.” Karga smiles at you, taking a couple of steps towards you. “Miss. Mando, it was a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard plenty about how exceptional you are with the ch-with Grogu while Din is away. Impressive. He’s a handful from what I can remember.” Karga is an attractive man, older with a dark complexion. His facial hair is white and contrasts beautifully against his skin. 

“Thank you.” You can feel yourself blushing for all different sorts of reasons. “He’s definitely a lot. Fun though. And a good bug catcher if I ever need one.” You smile up at Karga as he places a hand on your shoulder. 

“Don’t let Mando keep you out in the stars too long. Try to get him to accept my offer once he’s done with whatever matters he’s attending to.” It’s said quietly as if Karga didn’t want Din to hear him say that to you. Doesn’t matter, Din’s clearing his throat because he did. 

“Those service droids should have brought IG-11 in now, yes?” Din asks, walking to Grogu. He picks him up and cradles him in the crook of his elbow. Karga nods and keeps his hand on your shoulder as he leads you down the stairs. 

“I offered him the marshall position here in Nevarro.” The High Magistrate explains, again hushed as Grogu and Din follow behind. “If you can get him to change his mind, I’d also have a job for you here. There is plenty that needs to be done. You wouldn't be forgotten about, Miss. Mando.” 

Karga takes his hand from your shoulder and leads you all into a room. The top half of the droid statue Din showed you earlier is lying on a slab of metal in the center of the room. 

“Huh.” You look back at Din as he hands you the child. “You’re gonna fix it?” Din nods. You watch Din start pulling on wires, and removing things from the inoperative droid. “We need a droid I trust to help us explore Mandalore. This is that droid.” 

You furrow your eyebrows. We. Us. Mandalore. What’s he talking about?

“There. He’s hooked up to power.” Din says as you hold the child in your arms next to him. “Let’s see if we can wake him up.”

“Isn’t this an assassin droid?” Nervously, you look up at Din. He nods. “What are we doing with it then?” 

“Before I met you he was the one who took care of the child.” Din explains. He presses two wires together but nothing happens. You watch the droid's head and wait for movement, holding Grogu against you tightly. Nothing. 

“There you go.” Karga laughs and points to the droids pinchers at the end of his arms. 

“S-subparagraph sixteen-teen-teen of the B-B-Bondsman G-Guild p-protocal waiver.” IG-11 stutters as it sits up, its head twisting and turning right to you and Grogu. “Immediately p-produce said…” You look at Din with worry in your eyes as you turn the child away from the droid. IG-11 reaches for Grogu and you turn further away from it. “That b-b-bounty is mine.” You’re taking steps back but the droid has fallen off the slab and to the floor and is now crawling towards you. “Terminate asset. Terminate asset.” It’s repeating itself over and over. Now Din is shooting at it with his blaster pistol but it does nothing to stop the attacker directly in front of you.

“Miss. Mando!” Karga calls out as IG-11 reaches for and clasps around your ankle. It’s squeezing so tightly you’re sure it’s going to break your bones. It’s happening so fast. Karga holds his hands out and you toss Grogu to him. The droid immediately lets go of your ankle and starts crawling towards Karga with determination.

“Terminate asset.” IG-11 repeats over and over.

“Shoot it!” You shout at Din who is already shooting at it. The droid is about to pass under a large bust of High Magistrate Karga. Another droid, not IG-11 pushes the bust off the pillar it’s resting on and it falls onto the head of IG. 

“That’s one way to use your head.”

You stand next to Din with Grogu in your arms. You’re watching the Anzellans work on IG-11. Your ankle still hurts and you’re sure it’s probably already bruised. The little creature in front of you starts to talk in his native language. You understand everything and nod your head, pursing your lips together. 

“Huh.” You keep nodding.

“Uh…okay. I don’t understand. Do you speak Huttese?” Din shifts uncomfortably next to you. You look up at him with raised eyebrows.

“He said it broke.” You motion to the small creature who is still talking intermittently with the other Anzellans. You nod as you listen to them carefully.

“That’s no good. I need this one. This one is my friend.” Din speaks slowly to the creatures working on the droid so they’ll understand him.

“Mhm. Yeah…Okay.” You keep listening to the little creature speak. “Yeah. No. The memory circuit is busted. He said this droid is not your friend anymore.” You look up at Din. 

“How do you know what he’s saying?” He asks curiously. “Tell him to put in a new one.”

“I learned things while on Canto Bight.” You turn your nose up at him. “I know things.” You look back at the little creature and smile. You ask very nicely if he can put in a new memory circuit. The little man speaks up to you quickly. “Mhm.. really? Okay. Okay. No? Ohhhhh, okay.” You look back at Din and shake your head. “Not happening. The part you need is too hard to find. They don’t make them anymore. He said to buy a new droid. This one is…” You look back at the Anzellan in front of you and raise an eyebrow. He mutters something and you nod. “Poodoo.”You nod at Din. 

“Can they fix him without the memory circuit?” Din’s annoyed. The little creature pipes up now so Din can hear him. 

“Yeah. IG no think. No think.” His little accent is so cute. Din sighs.

“What if I bring you the part?” Din looks back at the little creature. 

“Oh. Then no problem. We fix.” The little man looks up at Din and says it so he can understand. 

“He said he can-” You start but Din shoots you a look. Grogu throws one of the Anzellan's wrenches across the room. He must have picked it up when you leaned over to listen and translate for Din. 

“I’m so sorry about that.” You apologize and reach for the wrench but Grogu grabs a chain hanging from the ceiling and pulls it as you walk by. It rattles loudly and something from above falls down to the ground. The Anzellans start to mutter again in their own language. “No. No. He’s not a pet. He’s a baby. He’s just young!” Now all the little creatures surround you as Grogu looks down at them from your arms. 

“Bad baby.” One of the little creatures says. Grogu throws another wrench you didn’t even know he had down at the creatures. They all scream and go running. 

“Yeah, he’s  a bad baby!” You growl down at Grogu who is still watching the Anzellans scatter down by your feet. “So bad.” 

Grogu is back in his bag. You have a bag of orange candy in one hand and a box of baked goods in the other hand. 

“Aren’t you so glad we stopped? They had those tarts! The same one from the market so long ago.” You look up at Din who is focused on getting you back into the ship. Din shakes his head and sighs. 

“Are you glad we stopped?” He looks down at you, one hand on your lower back as he gently pushes you through the crowd. You nod happily and lead him back to the ship. “Then I’m glad. C’mon. Speed up a little.” Din pushes his hand into your back and steps directly behind you. One gloved hand slides down and cups your ass while you're walking. It makes you blush. 

“What are you doing?” You whisper. Din doesn’t say anything, just gives your ass a nice squeeze or two before his hand moves to your back again. “Do it again.” You look around to see if anyone’s watching but no one is looking at you. Din slides his hand back down to your cheek, gripping it tightly as he presses his chest into your back. 

“Being bad.” He rasps into your ear as he continues to push you towards the ship.

Grogu is asleep in his bed. Din is waiting for you in the ship's dining area when you walk out after changing into your nightgown. 

“You look strong.” Din nods as you reach into the cupboard for your orange candy. You smirk and flex your bicep for him. 

“I’m getting lazy here on this ship with you. Eating candy and sweets.” You smirk at him and sit down at the table. You watch him puttering around with something from his beskar. The question you want to ask is a little scary, you don’t know if you want the answer. You ask anyway. “What does ‘aliit’mean?” The candy is just as good as it was in High Magistrate Karga’s office. “You called me that when you introduced me.” Munching happily on your sweets. Din doesn’t answer you for a couple of moments. 

“It means family.” The helmet tilts up to you and you freeze with a piece of candy in your hand. “I hope that it’s okay. Me addressing you like that.” Din looks at you. You toss the candy back into the bag and look at him. 

“Is that what we are to you? Grogu and I?” Din places his hand on yours as you speak and nods. “Then it’s fine. I like it.” A smile spreads across your face. “I liked Miss. Mando better but, it’s fine.” You tease as Din squeezes your hand gently. 

“C’mon. I wanna do something.” Din pulls you up from the table and leads you into the entry hull of the ship.

“What now? What could The Mandalorian want now?” Din tilts his head down to you and starts to unbutton the top of your nightgown. You watch and smirk down at him. “Ohh, what The Mandalorian always wants.” Din presses his forehead against yours as he slides the fabric off your shoulders. 

“You look strong enough for it now.” He rasps quietly.

Frowning, you pull your head away from his but his hands on your shoulders keep you close. “Strong enough for what? Do I want to know?” You’re nervous now. 

“I was too worried before. That I’d hurt you.” Din rasps from the modulator and pulls you in close, and presses his forehead against yours. “I didn’t want to hurt you but I think you can do it now.”

You’re still frowning. Hurt you? Do it? What is he talking about?

“What do you mean?” Din takes his helmet off and looks down at you and you almost cover your eyes with your hands but you remember you’ve seen it. He’s just as handsome as you remember. Even with a black eye. 

“Let me show you.” Looking at him while his non-modulated voice speaks is like standing under a waterfall you imagine. The weight of it just presses you into yourself. You feel so encapsulated by the deepness and softness and beauty of it. It drowns out all the other sounds you could hear.

Everything happens so fast. Somehow, the both of you are completely naked, even his helmet is off, and he has you sitting on the edge of the table in the dining area— his two thickest and longest fingers pumping in and out of you slowly, stretching you open for what you've been waiting so long for.

Din's forehead is resting against yours, his other hand is wrapped around the back of your neck holding you close to him as he pushes you closer and closer to that edge.

For the first time since you've met him- Din hasn't stopped talking.

"Don't want to hurt you," he whispers, his eyes locked onto yours. "Never want to hurt you."

You capture his words on your tongue and let them slide down your throat, and moan your own wanton desires out to him, "Want you to."

Din pulls back only an inch, giving you a perplexed look as his fingers curl against that spot inside of you once again, the heel of his palm now pressed and rubbing against your clit while he eases you back onto your elbows.

"Really, ad'ika? You want that?" His fingers move faster at the idea of bringing you some sort of pain that mingles with your pleasure.

The words what does that mean, leave your lips, but they're laced in with a moan, and a shiver through your whole body that makes it hard to actually speak.

"Means 'little one'," Din leans over your torso, his chest flush against yours. "You're my little one, yes? My ad'ika?"

Din is so beautiful. If you could etch his beauty into the back of your eyelids so he could be seen whenever you closed them, you would. You'd give all the credits you have saved, you would give years off your life just to know that there would be a place where you could look at him forever.

He was handsome in the dark that night when he showed you, but right now— it's well lit, and there is no sleepiness clouding your vision or hindering your ability to really be excited to drink him in.

And Din lets you. It's like he knows you're trying to memorize his face before he has to put that foresaken fucking helmet back on, so he's letting you take him in, hear him unmodulated— and watching him speak is like a work of art.

"Are you?" He questions, his fingers stalling their movements inside of you. His brown eyes haven't left yours since he got you on the table, it felt like he couldn't look away- even if he did want to.

Swallowing hard, you nod up to him- because you are his. You've been his for so long.

"Say it," his voice is stern, and he doesn't curl his fingers inside of you again, he pushes them further than he has yet, and it makes your eyes flutter.

"I'm yours."

The words leave your lips and Din withdraws his fingers from you, and places them into your mouth.

"Suck," he murmurs, placing himself between your legs. So you do, tasting yourself on his fingers, teasing him with your tongue between space between them.

The table feels like ice under your buttocks, but it's such a stark contrast to the heat radiating off Din between your thighs. Every single atom or fiber, or cell— whatever is holding you together as a person— is quivering. It's shaking like you might vibrate off the edge of the table.

"Ad'ika, are you ready?" Din whispers, pulling his fingers from your mouth and placing them into his. He half hums, half moans at the taste of you still lingering.

"I'm ready," you nod, eyes glued to his mouth. Everything inside of you is telling you to look down so you can watch him notch himself at your entrance for the first time, but you can't pull your gaze away from his face.

Din finally pulls his eyes away from yours, because he wants to watch. You're both trembling, you can feel it in the hand on the back of your neck. It feels time stops, both of you are still, just the heaving of your chests, and Din rubbing the tip of him along your soaked slit.

"Put it in," you whine quietly, eyes still locked onto his face, watching him lick his lips in anticipation.

Din's eyes flick up to yours, and a half smirk plays across his lips, "Ad'ika, I've waited just as long as you—"

"Put it inside," you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him into you.

Din leans in and presses a kiss, a real one- his lips to your forehead, very softly before he pushes just the tip inside of you.

It's breathtaking- you gasp at the sudden stretch and burn as he opens you up for him. With you jaw hanging open, and no sound coming out of your mouth you finally sit up and look down at him lewdly splitting you open around his throbbing, veiny length.

"Maker…"

"Maker…"

Both of you breathe the word simultaneously.

Then a soft whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it as Din pushes another inch of himself inside of you.

Din's eyes flash up from where he's pushing further into your dripping hole, to your eyes. "I'm hurting you?" He frowns, his brows furrowed together slightly.

You shake your head, then nod, and then shake your head from side to side again rapidly, "S'really good, please d-don't stop." You plead with him quickly, reaching out for him in any capacity.

Din's hand leaves the base of his cock where he had been holding it, and finds yours still searching for something to hold on to. He wraps your fingers around the back of his neck and they tangle in the mess of his loose, brown curls.

"Don't stop?" Din questions, his second hand now coming to the back of your neck to wrap around the one he still has there.

"Please don't stop," you confirm, beg, plead for him to move, to give you some sort of friction or satisfaction around the immense burn still happening as you mold to fit him inside you. "Please, p-please, Din—"

Din answers your supplications with a firm snap forward of his hips and he's entered you completely. His hips flush against yours.

The pained, moaned sound that's torn from your throat is loud, and it doesn't sound like it feels good— even though you want this. This is pain you're willing to give him— willing to go through to be close to him. It doesn't matter, it's a pain that stings in the sweetest way.

Din's eyes narrow on yours, a silent command for you to give him another confirmation that you still want this- that you still want him to hurt you just a little until it morphs into pure bliss.

You nod, mouth still hanging open silently.

Din groans, resting his forehead against yours once again, seemingly pleased with your silent need for more. "Fuck, little one, sucking me in so fucking good… Maker," he sighs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "You're so soft and warm, like I knew you would be."

All you can do is stare up at him, with tears in your eyes- mostly from the discomfort that has yet to settle into something you think you'll be able to enjoy. You'll will yourself to fit around him— you don't care because you love Din. You love him so much, and you wish you could say those words to him— but it's so fucking terrifying, and there are some scared tears in your eyes too.

All these feelings, and now this, this intense wave of new adoration for this man who usually dons beskar and a helmet, naked between your thighs right now. Din migrates his kisses to your cheeks, and the side of your face as his mouth settles directly in front of your ear.

"Shhhh, don't cry, please don't cry— it'll feel good soon, little one."

It feels like a promise as he pulls his hips back from yours slowly.

"Ohhhh fuck," you clench your eyes shut tight, and grip the hair at the base of his neck even tighter, as if that'll keep him in place, keep his massive length from leaving you fully.

"That's it," he coaxes, his thumbs rubbing circles at the base of your jaw, his fingers still intertwined around your neck.

"Take me, take every inch." He rocks forward then, and you whine at the movement, your entire body heating up from the inside out.

You can't think, can barely breathe, consumed by his intimidating size and the pressure of his body against yours, surrounding you completely.

"You're so perfect for me," Din praises, voice low and rough. "So beautiful and tight, and fucking perfect." He grunts.

He starts thrusting then, languid movements that have you arching up into him, feeling overwhelmed by too many sensations. "This okay?" he asks, voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I'll stop-"

Pleasure starts to peek through the veil of discomfort, winding its way up your spine until you're gasping, high and breathy. "Din, Din, fuck," You babble, hands scrabbling for a hold on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. "Don't stop— don't stop, p-please keep going."

He groans at that, hips stuttering. His rhythm falters but doesn't cease, picking up speed. "Greedy girl," he teases. "It feels good now?"

"Yes," you sigh.

"Good, c'mon on."

Din has both hands pressed against the wall of this new ship by his waist. The bend in your knees is draped over both of his forearms and he’s holding you against the wall. Your back is pressed against it and your hips are pulled away, supported by Din. 

His thrusts into you are not gentle or feather touches like the first night he woke you up in the dark. The loud smacking of skin against skin and your dripping cunt echo in the empty, quiet ship every time Din slams his hips into yours. He’s slamming them so hard your back moves up and down on the wall behind you. You're slick with sweat. 

Din wasn’t wrong when he said he would have hurt you before. The man cannot hold himself back now that he’s inside you again. He held back on the dining table, but he cannot anymore.

One of your hands is behind his neck, holding onto him tightly. You can feel him at your cervix, it’s a shock when he drives his hips into you. Din’s pushing every sound and every single ounce of air out of you. You are a squeaking mess against the wall behind you. The only sound coming out of you as he’s fucking you is a strained, small, quiet little pant with the tiniest exclaim of pleasure that your body can find inside of you. Your eyes are closed tightly, the grip on the back of his neck has got to be hurting him because what he’s doing to you is sending a completely new tsunami of goodness through you. These are not waves. 

It’s been one big orgasm since he started these thrusts into you. You haven't stopped. You’re dripping down Din’s thighs you’re so fucking wet. His sounds of pleasure are filthy. Deep grunts from his chest and guttural moans, unable to control how hard he fucks you. 

"You like this?” Din grunts deeply at you. All you can do is nod. “Say it.” He’s demanding it, no stutter, no soft voice of amazement or awe. He’s fucking up into you so deeply, “Say it," Din demands, needing your voice.

“Yes.” You finally find enough air inside you to force it out. Your head is spinning and you haven’t been able to form one clear thought since you and Din watched him slide his cock into you for the first time. You couldn’t even speak over the feeling of it stretching you. It felt like it was going to split you in half at first. 

“Yes, what?” More thrusts into you, quickly knocking you back against the wall each time, your sweat keeps you sliding up and down in rhythm with him. Din’s being so aggressive. You got a little tiny taste of it the other night when he face fucked you, but he held back then. He’s not holding back now.

“Y-yes. I-I l-love it.” You’re stuttering with each smack of his hips against yours. Din’s thrusts get faster as you speak to him like you’re the one controlling how fast and how hard he moves. 

“Say forever.” Another guttural demand forced out between hard upward slams of his hips into yours. 

“Oh my Mak- For-ever,” It comes from somewhere deep inside you like he just forced it from within you with those thrusts.

“Little one-” He’s looking down between you now, watching his hard cock disappear into your velvety wetness as he bucks his hips up into yours. The base of him is gleaming in your leaking slickness. It makes him groan, watching it. Encourages him to move faster. “-so per-fect.” He draws the word out, his forehead finds your shoulder. 

You’re suspended in the air, you can no longer even find the energy inside of you any more to keep your head up. It’s leaned back against the metal wall. Your eyes are closed as he rips another orgasm out of you. You don’t even make a sound when it happens. The only way he knows is by the walls of your cunt tightening and squeezing around his cock thrusting inside of you.

“That’s a good girl.” It’s another low guttural sound in your ear. “Love w-when you come on me. Love feeling you c-come.” You’re obsessed, love when he calls you a good girl and tells you to come on him. It’s the soundtrack you want to fall asleep to when he’s gone. 

Then he’s withdrawing from you. Your feet touch the ground before you can even comprehend what’s happening. Din’s hands are on your waist, turning you. He puts his hand flat on the wall from behind you. 

“Hands.” It’s a guided instruction on what Din wants you to do. You follow it, placing both of your hands on the wall. “Beautiful.” He’s still behind you, hands on your hips again, pulling them back against him. Din’s feet kick yours apart gently and you let him open you up. Then he’s pushing himself back into you.

The sounds your skin makes when he jackhammers into you are obscene. Like someone’s being beaten up. You are being beaten up...technically. You’ve never ever been fucked like this before. Your supple mounds bounce below you as he rams himself into you over and over. 

“Perfect— everything about you is perfect. Your cunt, your mouth... your ass,” he grunts, checking the list in his head aloud as he fucks you. "All so beautiful.” Then you hear his mouth wetly suck something from behind you, and the thoughts of what he’s doing run through your head. He presses his thumb against your puckered hole. “I want it. Can I t-take it? Please?” Din grunts, but is still being so polite while he thrusts into you angrily.  

“Yes.” You’re able to whimper out. You want him to take it too, thinking back to the time he used the Amban on you. “Take it.” Whimpered again.

“My little one,” he whispers as he slips the tip of his thumb into you. 

The pleasure between your legs completely masks any pain that might have happened when he did that because you don’t feel a thing. Just being stretched around his digit. The feeling of fullness as he rests the rest of his fingers just above your ass. He pushes it in deeper and holds it there as he continues to slam against you, again the sounds in the ship are salacious and filthy. Wet-smacking skin, your choked on sobs of bliss as he made you come once more. 

“Fuck.” He groans and his hand grips your hip tightly. “Fuck, take it. Fucking take it.” His thrusts become more staggered and sloppy. Din slams himself into you one last time and then holds himself against you, still grinding his hips into yours. You can feel him twitch and throb inside of you as he releases.

You’re ebbing off your orgasm for the seventeenth time. One last thrust of his hips to fully empty himself. He’s quivering. It makes you smile as you rest your forehead against the hull. 

“Perfect.” Din’s out of breath but uses what he’s got left in his lungs to let you know. His forehead finds the center of your shoulder blades. He’s sweating.

You can feel him leave his sticky sweat on your back when he stands, slowly and carefully pulling himself from within you. You groan at the empty feeling, his spend dripping down your thigh.

You stay, leaning up against the wall like that until his hands pull you away from it. 

“I can’t.” You gasp. “Oh, my Ma-ker.” Another forced-out gasp of approval of what he’s just done to you. “I can’t. Tired. Sore.” You whine as you push yourself off the wall. 

“Tired. Bed. Sleep. Perfect. Beautiful.” Another list in his head that he audibly checks off to you as he leads you backward towards the softest sheets and the most perfect bed on the floor as long as Din is beside you. 

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[inklore]

home is where you're mine

premise: in nevarro you and din can finally breathe and spend your days christening every surface of your home.

pairing: din djarin x (f)reader

word count: 911

warnings: eighteen+ content, established relationship, riding, unprotected p in v, tiny little taste of possessive!din, domestic life, public-ish encounter, 'etyc' means dirty, 'mesh’la' means beautiful.

note: did i have an absolute panic attack over actually writing in the mando world instead of doing an au? yeah yeah i did, but thanks to my bbys @psychedelic-ink and @pedrito-friskito i got over it and wrote this filth <3.

The skin on Din’s neck feels as hot as your body does. The sun, having gone down hours ago, did little to cool the warm air—the humidity that’s clinging to your body and making sweat gather at your brow and run down your spine as your breath heaves your chest with your ministrations. 

There’s an ache in the heel of your foot that you ignore. That does not deserve a second thought, maneuvering around, or changing of position when this one feels too good. 

When Din is letting you take control, letting your fingers move to the only skin visible and hold onto it like a lifeline. Like you’d float away from the building pleasure if you didn’t have something, some kind of contact that wasn’t his gloved hand bunching up your dress at the top of your ass so he can grip and pull you down onto his length. The only helping hand he’s giving.

Since the two of you had made—what you hoped was—a permanent home in Nevarro. Until another bounty called Din away, now giving you a place to safely wait for his return. A cabin big enough for the three of you. A space that wasn’t covered in scrap metal and piles of weapons or debris. 

You know, in truth, that you’d live under any conditions if it kept Din on your side. The child on your hip or by your feet. 

But this place felt special. Like the three of you could finally take a deep breath and let your guard down for half a second without feeling remorseful over it. 

The porch had quickly become Din’s favorite spot to relax. To put his feet up and watch the sky, the terrain—Grogu, as he basked in the daylight and played with his food. 

Which is where you found him tonight after the child had drifted to sleep and the two of you were alone. The planet seemingly quiet when it knew the two of you needed it. When you leaned against the doorway and Din held out his hand to you. Pulling you into his lap. A calming silence shared between the two of you as you took in the stars. 

A moment that seemed too good to pass up. To not continue to take advantage of the space you had been given to have Din inside of you. 

No need to sneak around or find a darkened corner. 

It’s as if the two of you needed to break in every surface within the new space. Home. 

Your cheek pressed into the wall, a counter, a table. Your fingers leaving indents in the fabrics of seats, beds, and blankets. It was only right that you carry on that same streak in Din’s favorite spot. 

“Should we-” he began, the shake of your head cutting him off as your hips rocked against him. As he grew the more your sweet whimpers fell, and your fingers danced along the beskar of his chest plate. “Etyc,” his gloved hand coming down to tap at your ass, making you grin.

It didn’t take long for you to free his cock and position him at your entrance. To get yourself this close from the motion of your hips, the angle making the fabrics of his pants rub against your clit with each gyrate. Each time he bucked up into you just a little harder than the last. 

You let out a gasp when the warmth of his glove covers one of your breasts. His fingers pull down the—now—flimsy fabric from your shoulder to reveal it to him. To rub his thumb over your nipple in circles that make your moans grow in octaves. 

“Mesh’la,” Din groans. 

If this were in the darkness of your room, your roles would be reversed. Your vision cut off from him while he saw you in full. Running his mouth along your body. His teeth nipping at your breast until your body was pushing against him for more, to be filled by him. 

And if you asked him to take you to your bed right now, he would. Happily. He’d draw out your orgasm by making you fuck his tongue, pulling away when you were at that precipice only to shove his cock inside your trembling walls. Repeating the actions until you’re begging him to let you come. 

You have many nights for history to repeat itself, though. 

Right now, you’re so close, and the way Din’s hips are moving in tandem with your own lets you know he is too. That neither of you could move even if you truly wanted to because your pleasure is too much. Coming to that crescendo that makes you see a galaxy behind your eyelids when you can feel him twitch against your clenching walls from reaching your climax together. 

The gloved hand at your breast trails up the column of your neck, gripping your chin to bring your forehead to the warmth of his helmet before splaying the palm over your mouth. “The sounds you make when you come are just for me.” He grunts, your hips moving in unison one, two, three more times before you’re both coming. Your moans fall into his hand. Caught and absorbed by the fabric as your body clenches and trembles against him. The deep bravado of the groan he tries to bite back shakes your chest as you lay against him. “Mine,” mixed into the jumble of words he spews breathlessly. 

[hapan-in-exile]

It's so obvious, I'm your Number One

A Mandalorian One Shot

Another Tale from the Dark Garden

Yeah, I know your little secret...

------------------------

Reader: You are a courtesan at the Dark Garden, Coruscant’s most prestigious pleasure house. Owned by the Mandalorian's employer, crimelord Boss Set’ki, and operated by his lieutenant Mistress Anassa. After years of meaningful looks and missed connections, Din Djarin finally claims you as his own. But now…he’d like to switch up the roles.

Word Count: ~9K

Pairing: sub(ish)!Din Djarin x (soft)femdom!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Warnings: Bondage restraints, blindfold, oral sex (everyone receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slapping, hair pulling, breathplay, biting, unprotected piv, rough sex, orgasm denial, cum eating, anal fingering, prostate play, explicit consent, aftercare.

No extreme degradation. Lots of checking in! Lots of praise!

A/N: This is Part 2 of Tales of the Dark Garden. Read Part 1 (softdom!Din Djarin x sub!fem!reader), or just dive in with this entry!

No description of skin, hair, or eye color; no description of age or body shape.

------------------------

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this? I can keep the blindfold on.”

Thankfully, you’d already adjusted the shuttle’s climate controls. You’re wearing your favorite pair of knit stockings, a wrap sweater, the silk sash of your robe tied around your eyes…and absolutely nothing else.

The Mandalorian tore off your underwear a few minutes ago.

You can’t see him—can’t see anything—you simply gravitate toward the heat of his body as he leads you across the cabin.

“If teeth are going to be involved, I think it’s in my best int—” Mando’s words are cut off by a dull thud and the sound of the bed frame scraping across the inlaid tile floors. “Gah–” he snarls. “Fucking farrik, that stings!”

His grip on your wrist tightens as he dips forward to reclaim his balance. 

“You okay?” Reaching out blindly, your hand collides with his taut stomach, nails catching on his tender skin. “Shit, sorry.”

But Mando only laughs, gathering you against him.

“Turned the lights off too soon,” he murmurs, resting his chin atop your head. After a swift kiss, you feel him bend over to massage his knee, or shin, or whatever he’d knocked painfully into the bedframe. “I can’t see shit in the dark.”

“We can rethink—

“Hush,” he silences your prevaricating with another kiss. It’s gentle, and so sweet it feels lonely when he pulls away. “Once we make it to the bed…there’ll be no reason to leave it.”

The promise of that excites you so much, you almost forget that you’re supposed to be stepping into a role. You stand up straighter and pull your shoulders back. Show some dominance! So you slide both hands over the hard bulk of his chest and shove. 

“I’m going to make you feel so fucking good.” 

You try to push him playfully onto the bed, but the Mandalorian is about as pliable as a statue. He resists and instead uses the momentum to hold you closer, sweeping you into his arms when you lose your center of gravity, so his powerful limbs are the only thing keeping you upright. 

It’s a reminder that this is a game. The only dominance you have is what he allows. That’s fine by you. As long as you can make him whimper into your ear and cry out your name...hearing him beg could be fun.  

“Here.” The bounty hunter lifts you by your thighs and wraps your legs around him, one hand splayed across your lower back. You have no choice but to cling to his shoulders. The mattress dips and creaks when he sits down, swinging his legs onto the bed, before Mando situates himself propped against the headboard, with you straddling his hips. 

Burying his face into the crook of your neck, his lips trace over your jaw until he finds your ear. Mando breathes his warm breath into it, then covers your throat with kisses and his questing tongue before returning to your lips. Breath catches in your throat, and you sigh into his mouth as he opens for you, tongues tangling together. 

You shift forward onto your knees, wrapping your arms behind his neck.

The soft fabric of his shorts presses into your thighs as his erection builds. He’s wearing a clean pair from the overnight bag he brought with him—which delights you to no end. First, that the mighty Mandalorian has an overnight bag (?!); and second, that it’s thrown onto an armchair in the corner of the cabin he’d claimed as his own.   

You sense the movement of his arms when they pull away from you, putting on his own mask, before he reaches behind your head to untie the silk sash from your eyes. It takes a while for your vision to adjust to the utter darkness. All the lights in the shuttle are turned off, but he’d left the skyline window open so that the ambient glow of the megalopolis cast everything into haze and shadow. Coruscant is at its most spectacular at night.

Bathed in soft yellow, violet, pink and blue hues, the Mandalorian remains a dark and indistinct figure to your blinking eyes. Except for the mask.

It’s rare for you to take on more…adventurous clients, but you kept several face coverings amongst your professional accouterment. Some men wanted to be a stranger to themselves—someone who didn’t care about cheating on their spouse, someone who loved to say and do filthy things. 

Some clients simply wanted to watch without being perceived. 

You’d given the bounty hunter a black hood. Thin enough that he could see and breathe through the mesh weave. Large enough for it to cover him as thoroughly as the Beskar helmet. Mando had taken the hood and torn it—folding the fabric so that it only hid his face from forehead to nose. 

It’s too dark for you to see him in any distinct detail, but that decision—that he could have covered his face in complete anonymity and did not—seemed to communicate a desire for intimacy. He wanted the use of his mouth, to feel your fingers threading in his hair and the brush of your lips against his cheeks.

So that’s what you do. Your fingers roam through the soft waves of thick brown hair framing his ears. 

It’s still damp from the fresher, encouraging a curl in the tendrils along the back of his neck. Longer than you expected. You always imagined that he kept it short for the sake of simplicity. 

You’ll be able to get a good grip.

“Gorgeous,” you murmur without thinking. 

“My hair?” Mando asks in disbelief. “You like it?”

“I do.” Massaging his scalp delicately with your fingernails, you lean forward to kiss the corner of his coy smile. “I like everything about you.” 

“You braided yours.” He raises both hands to trace the messy coil laced down your back. 

“So it won’t get in my way,” you grin. 

“You look very sexy in these,” the Mandalorian caresses the fuzzy Endorian wool tugged up to your thighs. “And this…” his hands fumble with the neckline of your sweater. It’s loose enough to pull aside, and soon you feel his fingertips, rough against the skin between your breasts. “Whatever this is,” the moisture of his breath stirs the hairs along your neck, “it’s beautiful. Did you dress up for me?”

“Maybe.” You take his face in your palms and trace your thumb over his lower lip, searching for the fullness of his mouth in the darkness. “I wanted something soft.”

“You’re soft everywhere,” he sighs, before sucking on your thumb. A rippling tide of desire surges in your belly.

“Is there anything you want?” you ask, sounding determined to fulfill his every secret yearning.

“I’m sure you know what I like better than I know myself,” Mando replies, his voice a heady rumble vibrating between you.  

But that’s not a real answer. You can feel the nervous energy in his body—almost giddy. The slight tremble in his fingers as they settle onto your waist, his muscles tightening with patient expectation. Perhaps he preferred not knowing.

Then he dips his head, his mouth closing over your nipple, already peaked with arousal, as he speaks against your skin. “You can do what you want with me.” 

Whoof! It’s going to be a challenge to remain in control. You feel ready to melt into his arms, squirming in orgasmic bliss. You’re realizing domination requires a lot of purpose and attention.

“I should warn you, my training at Dark Garden included more poetry, than bondage.”

His mouth quirks into a smile. “So you’re going to torture me with poetry?” 

“I’ll have you know the Tales of Hallëvala are absolutely filthy. Written by total perverts.”

You both burst into laughter. The bounty hunter’s chuckles come from so deep within him that you bounce precariously on his lap until he regains his focus.

“I trust you. Do to me what feels good to you.” 

What feels good to you…after your last round of fucking, he knows exactly what you like. And how rough. He’d asked to switch roles this time. Show me why you like it. But, perhaps he didn’t feel comfortable enough to say what he wanted out loud. You’d bet money he doesn’t have a lot of experience with this reversal in dynamic either.

You lace your fingers around his neck, thumbs pressing against his throat. Not too tight, but enough to claim his attention. “It’s good that you trust me, Mando,” you declare seductively. “You’ll need to remind yourself of that when you start to feel afraid of me.” 

His laughter is dismissive, as though the very idea is ridiculous.  

“Submission requires putting all your trust in me…trusting that I know how much you can take. Giving yourself to me. Completely.” 

Gathering his wrists in your hands, you haul them over his head and pin them against the headboard. The Mandalorian takes a sharp breath in surprise, his breathing becoming shallow. 

Leaning forward, your lips drift to the hollow of his throat, trawling your tongue through the rough stubble of his beard to the tip of his chin. “Your body will resist. You’ll doubt whether or not you can truly surrender, whether or not you really want to.” 

When your tongue finds his lips, you kiss them ravenously, stealing whatever breath remains in his lungs. You kiss him like the hunger of starvation, thrusting your tongue into his mouth. It’s unlike any of your other kisses—fearsome—teeth knocking against each other as you shove your tongue down his throat. It’s a violation, made to overwhelm him. He tries to turn his head, but you take him by the chin, fingers tightening around his jaw to hold him firmly in place. 

With only one hand to pin his wrists, the Mandalorian could easily overpower you. He doesn’t. Instead, he arches into you so hard, his bare chest crushes your breasts. The sensation of his skin rubbing against you is like a fire coaxing embers to burn.

Never breaking the kiss, he finally begins to breathe through his nostrils, and you pull back. But not before dragging your sharp incisors over his lower lip until you taste blood. 

Mando gasps, startled. He tries to hide it with his laughter, but it’s sporadic. Anxious and uncertain. 

“You might start to think I’m crazy,” you whisper in his ear. “Or that maybe you are,” you smile lasciviously, unsure whether he can see through the mask. “But doubting me is the worst thing you could do…” drawing the tip of your nose over his earlobe, along the shell of his ear, you close your teeth around the helix. 

He tenses, waiting for the bite.

“Don’t think. Don’t question. Just submit to me.”

He’s already rock hard between your thighs. You can feel the whole, hot length of him press insistently against you. Your wetness welcomes him, soaking through the thin fabric of his shorts. Instinctively, his hips roll upward. 

“Wait,” his body tenses and stills. “Before…you said it’s exhausting, playing a role. That’s not what I wanted to—”

The tender concern in his voice is enough to break you from the fantasy.

“This is different,” you assure him. “Being with someone you care about always makes it different. And I do care about you, Mando. Very deeply. I’m going to slap you. Bite you. I might even hurt you, but I will always keep you safe.” 

With that, you spread his arms wide, pulling his wrist through a loop of rope tied to one corner of the headboard, and then the other.

“You’re going to feel powerless without the use of your hands. That’s why I’m tying you up. Because you’re giving up power. And I’m taking it.”

Suddenly, his muscles tremble in a surge of trepidation. Remember, this will be difficult for him. In his line of work, bondage means capture. Defeat. You need to be careful not to trigger those defensive impulses. 

“It’s a gift you’re giving me, Mandalorian, but you can reclaim it anytime. See?” you slip his hand back out through the rope. One quick roll of his wrist, and he can free himself.

“I think we should use colors to check in.” You reach between your legs to stroke his hard cock gently over his shorts. It throbs eagerly against your palm. Warm and thick. “Green is when it feels good. Does this feel good?”

You lower yourself onto him more with each stroke, until you’re so close you can feel the heat of his breath in your mouth.

“Very,” he nods against your temple, breaths coming shallow and quick.

“Yellow is for when things get too intense.” This time, you squeeze harder, curling your fingers around him, and he gasps, stomach contracting in alarm. “Then we can pause—talk about it. Reset if necessary.”

“Mmmph,” Mando groans.

“Do you like this?” you ask, knees digging into the mattress with the momentum of every fervent twist of your wrist.

“Senaar’ika, I love this,” he laughs, ducking his chin to lick at your collarbone. 

You suck his tongue into your mouth, claiming his lips before tugging hard on his cock. 

“Nnngh! Fuck me,” he growls in a surge of arousal and frustration, thrusting roughly into your fist. “Dammit, woman.”

“When you say red, I stop immediately.” You remove your hands from his cock and place them lightly over his chest, the rapid beating of his heart drumming against your palms. “We can talk about it or not. You never have to explain why you want to stop.” 

“Okay,” he murmurs, still sounding apprehensive. No wonder! An elite bounty hunter. He’s probably never this vulnerable by choice. 

Then he surprises you. “If you’re worried about keeping me safe…Is this something you’ll enjoy?

“Yes!” you insist, laughing. “Giving you pleasure, watching you come so hard and for so long that you black out and forget your name…is something I will enjoy very much.”

“Is that a threat?” he tilts his head, grinning. “Or a warning?” 

“I just hope you have it written down somewhere since, as far as I understand, you’re the only one who knows what it is.”

At that, you lean forward to whisper into his ear once more. “I will take your body, and I will use it to satisfy my needs. But I promise to cherish it, even as I force it to conform to my desires.” 

Then your mouth closes over his again. This kiss is not as obscene. When your tongue passes his lips, you explore more slowly—the roof of his mouth, the seam of his lips, the tip of his wet tongue. Kissing deeply until he adapts to breathing through his nose. You’re gauging how long he can comfortably hold his breath before drowning in your cunt.

Your lips leave his to trail along the Mandalorian’s chin, his jaw, down his neck, and across his shoulder. As you move, you drag your open mouth over his skin, letting him feel the scrape of your teeth. Testing. Nibbling, then biting—just hard enough to leave him gasping, but not hard enough to leave a mark. All the while, your hips roll your naked flesh, drenched in heat, to stroke along his cock. 

"Haa-nngh," you moan at the feel of him, thick and heavy between your thighs.

“I love it when you make that sound,” he says, breathless, thrusting his hips upward to meet you.

“You better find some discipline, Mando.” You press your forehead against his cheek and whisper into his neck, like you're telling him a secret. “You’re already so hard. I can feel you leaking onto my belly.”

“How can you tell?" He asks wryly. "You’re so wet I can feel it through my shorts.”

“I’m thinking about what I’ll have to do to you, if you come without my permission.”

“This would be easier if I hadn’t spent every night of the past five years dreaming about you.” 

“Sweet,” you tell him, flush with praise. “But that won’t save you from punishment. I will use discipline if you can’t obey.”

“It’s what I deserve,” he says roughly. 

Merely hearing those words brings you to the brink. Your cunt flutters. A hot, molten sensation spreading heat to every inch of your skin. Part of you wants nothing more than to simply sink onto him and ride him to release. Another part of you wants to take him all night and never let this end. 

Kriffing hell, you’ve got to get a grip! It’s just…never felt this urgent before. You can’t remember wanting a man’s body this badly.

“Don’t worry,” you drawl. “I plan to take you slowly.”

You drag your tongue along his throat, trailing a wet path down the column of his neck to his shoulder. This time, you lick and suck strong enough to leave bruises—pulling his warm skin between your teeth until you bite down hard around the ball of his shoulder. He surges against you, cock throbbing with need.

“I think…maybe you like the pain, Mandalorian.”

The growl that rumbles in his chest is sweet agony.

“Does it excite you?” 

“Yes,” he confesses in shallow breaths, panting. 

“But tonight…you come for me. When I say so. You understand?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

You grab a fistful of hair in your fingers and yank his head back. “You want to try that again?”

“Yes…mistress,” he says uncertainly. 

But in your world, the title of Mistress was reserved for women like Anassa, keeper of the Dark Garden, who was a figure of ruthless authority. That’s not how you see yourself. This business so often divided women into sweetly eager sluts or cold-hearted dominatrix. Those could not still be the only options. Not tonight. Not with him.

“Call me senaar’ika when we’re together.” His little dove. You loved to hear him call you that. It’s not authoritative or intimidating, but it feels right. “What should I call you?”

The Mandalorian chews on his answer for a long while. 

“Cyar'ika.”

“Shar-ee-kah,” you roll the syllables over your tongue. “What does it mean?”

“Guess you’ll have to learn more Mando’a.”

“Hmm,” you chuckle. “But the ika is diminutive, right? So…something sweet. Is that how you’d like me to fuck you? Hard and sweet?”

“Little dove, I—” 

You pull back your elbow to slap him across the face with an open palm.

“Too bad I don’t give a shit about what you want.”

The Mandalorian huffs. “No, senaar’ika,” he says through gritted teeth, trying to hide his shock. You’d bet the last person who slapped him, probably lost their hand. Suddenly, you begin to see the appeal of domination. It’s arousing, watching him twist himself into knots, resisting his deepest impulse to hit you back. All that power bridled…for you.

His jaw shifts and straightens, “Tonight is about what you want.” 

“That’s right,” you cup his face in your hand, soothing the tender skin of his reddening cheek. “Tonight, you exist only to please me.” Something eases in your chest when he nods, nuzzling into your palm. 

Holy shit, that was intense! Exhilarating. Your body is flooded with adrenaline. It feels anathema—wrong—to hit someone you care about. Even if it’s just pretend, it feels so real. So fucking real! But he seems to be enjoying it as much as you do. 

“Good,” you coo. “You’re doing so good. Right now, you don’t mean it. But you will.”

He laughs, incredulous. “I—”

“You’ll say the words, and I know you’ll want to mean them. But you won’t. Not at first.” Wetting your lips, you soothe the marks and bruises you’ve left on his body with gentle kisses.  “But you will. You’re going to learn. I’m going to teach you.”

Then you push up from your knees to stand over him.

“Where did you go?” Mando’s voice is longing and a little helpless. For the first time, he struggles against the ropes, testing their hold. 

“I’m staring at your beautiful body,” you answer truthfully. Shifting your weight carefully onto one leg, you lift your other knee and begin tracing every corded muscle of his chest and abdominals with your stocking-clad toes. Despite the thick wool, you feel his skin shiver and twitch—breath hitching whenever you sweep your foot lower and lower across his sensitive skin. “You look so good when I touch you.”

When you circle your toes around his navel, his stomach quivers, and his cock pulses.

“I’m fairly obsessed with this curve along your hips, defining your slutty little waist.” 

He let’s go of some tension then, laughing deep from his belly. “What is slutty about my waist?”

“How to explain…? Your shoulders are so broad…” you draw a line with your finger between his chest, down to his groin—his muscles rippling wherever your fingertips touch him. “And then my eyes travel to your slutty waist, and all I can think about is burying you between my thighs.”

“That’s all I ever wanted,” he says, looking up at you. “All these years…to feel you wrapped around me.” 

“Poor, cyar’ika,” you shake your head. “Still thinking about what you want. But I’m going to teach you better.”

Unlacing the ties of your sweater, you shrug it off and let it fall onto the bed. Somehow, the fact that you’re still wearing the stockings makes your nakedness feel more profane. Your hands thread into his hair and pull, forcing his head back so you can thrust two fingers inside his mouth. 

He’s so unprepared it makes him gag.

“Your body is beautiful…so powerful. But soft. Just like your beautiful face. Strong jaw. Sharp nose. Soft lips. I’m going to rub myself all over them when I fuck your face.”

In response, something between a moan and a sigh escapes his lips. Something like a whimper. Your face breaks into a broad grin.  

Mindful of your balance atop the mattress, you settle your right knee onto his outstretched bicep.

“Would you like that? If I came in your mouth? Fucked myself on your tongue?”

“Yes.” He says before adding, “Please, little dove.”

“Show me,” you respond coolly. “Stick out your tongue for me. Good. Make it soft, like velvet.”

Flexing the muscles deep in your belly, you tuck your hips and position yourself over his mouth. 

“I’m going to use you, and you’re going to sit there and take it for as long I need you to.”

With that, you rub yourself against the length of his tongue, stroking it across and in between every slick fold. You roll your hips wantonly to feel him from every angle, growing softer and wetter as his saliva becomes indistinguishable from your come, leaving you soaked and sopping. Soon, you lose yourself to the flood of exquisite sensations coursing through your body from the delicious friction of his ridged tongue. Pleasure seizes you, forcing you to steady yourself, gripping the headboard. Your breasts bob with each thrust of your hips as you grind yourself against his mouth.

Gods, you could do this for hours. But you sense him growing impatient with passivity. He’s eager to use his lips and mouth. Eager to taste your climax. 

“You like this? 

“Mmm,” he moans, pouring his hot breath into your wet center. 

“Tell me how much you love it.”

“I love your come in my mouth. I want to swallow you down.”

“Then put your tongue inside of me.”

“Annngh!” you cry out at the thick stab of his tongue. You rock yourself over it, hips writhing. A coiling knot of tension is winding tighter and tighter inside you. 

You can barely recognize the words streaming out of your mouth, but you cannot miss how much the Mandalorian seems to be enjoying this—the sounds he makes, the consuming way he sucks at your clit, the scrape of his stubble against the soft crease of your thighs.

“Lap up my come,” you command, then nearly collapse when his tongue makes hot trails through your opening, over and over, until he’s gasping for breath. “Don’t you dare fucking stop!”

Mando’s mouth moves even faster now, even harder, and you’re nothing but heat and pulse. Everything else is far away. Pleasure tightens—blazes—inside you.

“Flick my—” he parts your flesh with his nose, burying his face between your drenched folds until his mouth closes over your clit. “Fuck, you’re so good at this.” 

The leg bearing your weight begins to tremble. Your fingers tangle into his hair, nails scraping his scalp as your fists clench tighter, not caring whether it might hurt. All you can care about is the need to hold onto something while you ride each cresting wave of pleasure as it surges. Every muscle inside your body coils and tightens as the sweet and heady pleasure builds.

“Yes, fuck me with your tongue. Ha-aah. Circle—fuck—fuck yes!”

And then you come so hard you can’t care about anything. You can’t think, can’t breathe. You desperately try to gather air into your lungs, only to sob from the ecstatic release.

Your head falls back, but before you can come down, before you’re able to breathe and see again, you feel Mando’s grip behind your knee, keeping you pressed against his mouth. You pull back instinctively, away from the painfully sweet stimulation, but his fingers dig into your calf.

With each thrust, each lick of his tongue, you feel yourself breaking apart—until your second orgasm hits you so hard you scream, and a hot spurt of liquid covers his face. 

“Fuck, that was so hot! I want this come around my—” he begins, but the words die in his throat when you slap him hard across the face.

Both feet planted on the bed now, you hold yourself over him, knees shaking from the voltage of your orgasm. But your voice is firm. “I told you to sit there and take it. And instead, you disobey me. You think you know better. Do I need to remind you who’s in charge?”

Chastened, he tucks his chin, turning his handsome face away from your harsh words. 

Snatching a length of rope from the side table, you jump off the mattress and walk to the foot of the bed. Grabbing his ankles, you use all your strength to yank him down from the headboard. He grunts in shock, and again, you wonder how much he can see through the mask. 

You brush the rough coils of rope against the delicate pads of his feet, and his whole body shudders. “Behave, and I won’t have to use this to tie you down.”

The bounty hunter takes in a deep breath that pours forth from his lips. “I’ll behave,” he mumbles, fighting the submission.  

A dizzying wave of lust washes over you, rippling across your skin. You suddenly become aware of how hot it is in this cabin. You’d set the temperature too high. Covered in a thin sheen of sweat, the fine hairs that had escaped your braid stick to your cheeks and neck. Your heartbeat pounds against your eardrums. 

Was this the thrill of domination? To see this powerful, capable man, who clad himself in armor and wielded violence, gathering every ounce of strength he possessed to leash himself under your collar. It was a heady rush—almost frightening—to see how badly he needed this. 

It feels like a precious treasure to see this side of the Mandalorian. It strengthens your resolve. Don’t disappoint his desires. 

You crawl back onto the bed and over his supine body, biting harder on his nipples, sucking them fiercely into firm peaks, gnawing at his hip bones. “Fuck!” he gasps, a hint of fear lacing his voice. But his arousal was evident.

“I think you wanted to be punished. I think you wanted to test me. To see if I’m capable of hurting you.”

Mando’s so hard he nearly juts out from his shorts. Tugging them down, his cock bounces, slapping against the bare skin of his thigh. You trail wet, open-mouthed kisses down his groin, teeth grazing the delicate skin there.

“Do you believe that I could hurt you?”

Rubbing your face over the tip, you feel the slickness of his pre-come wet against your cheek. 

There is nothing more perfect than Mando’s expression right now—what you can see of it. Lips slightly parted, looking helpless. His hands clench into fists as you open your mouth to take him in. Delicately, you tense your teeth around the head of his cock. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “I’ve never been this hard.”

“Are you afraid?”

He nods.

“But excited too. You’re excited thinking about what I might do to you.” You run your tongue over the seam of his balls before sucking each heavy sack into your mouth. Using your tongue, you press the tender skin behind the backs of your teeth.

The Mandalorian draws in a sharp breath. “Yes!”

Something about your wet, messy face makes you defiant, “You don’t want to see what I can do. I know how to break a man like you.” You pull back, lifting your chin so he slips from your mouth, his cock blood-dark and glistening. Your brow arches, “With archaic poetry.”

“What?” he asks through a lusty daze.

“Something from the Guan-jii period, I think.”

"You are evil.”

“But first…” you spit onto his shaft, coating him in warm saliva—thick and viscous from taking him into your mouth. “You’re so big. I have to get you nice and wet before you’ll fit inside me.”

His hands flex wide and then curl back into fists. “Fuck, I want to grab you by the throat.” 

Your chin tilts sympathetically. “You could be rough, cyar’ika—slip your wrists free, hold me down, and fuck me senseless. But you won’t. You know this is going to feel so good.” 

Positioning your left leg over his thigh and tucking your right knee under the other, you bite down on your bottom lip and slide onto him—inch by inch, until it burns. He’s so big that it almost hurts as he stretches you out, opens you wide. 

“Fuck! That’s it,” he whispers as he thrusts himself the rest of the way inside you, up to the hilt. “Just like that. Yes!”

You pinch his nipple tightly between your thumb and forefinger. “Be still.” 

“Nnngh,” he growls in response. 

“Remember, your body is mine. To use for my pleasure.”

“Yes, senaar’ika” he replies.

“Then spread your legs.” 

At first, he’s unsure how to comply, but he doesn’t resist when you push his thighs further apart. 

“This position is called the Blooming Lotus pose. Our legs intertwine like the unfurling petals of a lotus blossom.” This angle gets him even deeper inside you, until he’s buried so deep you’re sitting on his balls.

“Mmmph…Oh fuck, that’s amazing.”

“Ha-aah!” you gasp, losing your concentration as you feel him everywhere. It burns. It aches. It’s so fucking good you could scream. “You’re so thick. Ha-aah, I love stretching myself over your thick cock.” 

Then, you begin rolling your hips, grinding yourself onto him. 

“Bet you never get it like this,” you look down at him, sprawled beneath you. “I bet everyone expects you to put this big dick to work. And you never get to lie back and get used like this.” 

“Yes,” he moans. “Keep fucking me.”

“These lines were composed by Mason Hamlin. Dedicated to his lover, a witch of the Night Sisters.”

Incredulous laughter bursts from his mouth, “You are an evil, evil woman.”

You raise the arc of your brow even higher, “But you love it.”

My lady,

You begin, letting the words spill from your lips like beads of water from a cataract.  

Whose brown eyes hide mystery, Beneath her red mask,

You push his knee up to his chest and sweep your tongue over the tender arch of his foot, drawing his big toe into your mouth to suck. This feels so unhinged, but you love it—watching his powerful body writhe with pleasure. 

Dark lips, 

“Oh shit!” he gasps as you slip your tongue between his toes. “Oh shit, I didn’t think that would feel as good as it does.” 

Her gyrating hips,  On her knees, on top, over me,

Returning to suck his toes, all the while, you circle and rock your hips against his length, twisting side to side, clenching around his thick cock until he throws his head back.

“You are fucking unreal, little dove.”

Pink hellfire pussy, Wet cunt of midnight,

“Nnngh,” you groan. “I love feeling you deep inside me. Rubbing my clit all over you.”  

But you don’t want to come yet. That would be letting him off easy.

You shift weight onto your knees, pulling yourself up the length of his shaft, only to slide back down, sheathing him deep inside you. You keep up the slow rhythm—sliding up then plunging down—over and over. 

“Slower,” he begs. “You have to go slower.”

“Can I tell you a secret?" you gasp. "No one’s ever been this deep inside me before.”

“Mmmph, you can’t say shit like that, senaar’ika.”

“I’ll do as I please,” you grin, sinking down onto his straining sack. 

I sell my soul willingly.  Take it all, And fuck me for eternity.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck! Oh fuck! Nnngh, I wish I could see…unngh, my cock sliding in and out of you.” 

Your back arches, shoving your breasts against his mouth like an offering. In answer, Mando leans forward, struggling with the bindings on his wrists. His mouth catches your nipple, tugging it. He laps, tongue swirling, and then he opens his mouth wider to suck.

It only lasts a moment, but that’s long enough to send a surge of pleasure ricocheting through your core, all the way from your nipple to your clit.

“Gods, I love your cock.” The pressure and pleasure build inside you with every thrust of your hips. “You’re so deep. So deep!”

“Mmm…maybe I like poetry,” he declares, in rapture.

“You like how I fuck you?” you ask between heaving breaths, body slick with sweat.

“Hmm,” moans. “I love it. This is all I want. To spend the rest of my life inside you.” 

Your muscles flutter and clench around him.

“Mmmph, your walls are so strong,” he groans. “You’re squeezing my cock like a fist.”

“Tell me what it feels like to be inside me.”

“Inside your pink hellfire pussy?”

“Yes,” you snort through your nostrils.

“W-warm,” he slurred, lost in his own pleasure. “Silken. Impossibly wet.”

“Careful. If you grit your jaw any tighter, you’re going to lose some teeth.”

“Not much of a choice, or I’m going to come too fast.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“You feel so good. You’re so wet I can hear it. Fuck, I can smell it.”

He’s right. The cabin is filled with an obscene squelching sound every time you rock your hips, coating him in your slick heat.

Through the mask, you stare at each other, breaths mingling until he closes the space between you to claim your mouth and kiss you—deep and languid. 

When he pulls away, he whispers, “Come for me.”

His tongue reaches out to flick against your nipple, and your head falls back, fingers gripping his shoulders, urging him to take more, take harder.

“You’re a terrible submissive.” 

“But you love it.” Again you thrust, so hard that he clutches at the headboard, fingernails digging into the wood. “Fuck, someone should come. Please. Please let me come inside you.”

Yep, you do like hearing him beg.

“I just told you, your cock is mine. Don’t tell me what to do with what’s mine.” 

“Aah-haah—fuck! You have to tell me when you’re close…I’m trying. I’m trying so fucking hard. But if you come, it’s just gonna make me…nnngh!”

“You’re going to be good and wait for what I give you.”

“What the fuck are you doing to me, woman?”

“Whatever I want.”

With that, you lift your leg over his thigh and settle it underneath him so that both your knees press into the mattress with him straddling your waist. 

“You’ll do as you’re told.”

You brace the heels of your palms against his hipbones and anchor all your body weight forward into your arms, raising yourself higher until your wet nipples press into his cheeks.

“Wider,” your elbows push into the insides of his knees, spreading him open. “This position is called the Wild Akkadian. Named after the tribe of female warriors on Ryloth who would capture men for breeding and mount them, demanding complete submission.”

Tucking your pelvis, you slide back onto his firm cock. Drenched in your come, the head glides over your clit, between your folds, teasing the entrance. The friction is just enough to make you start panting again. 

This position doesn’t let you take him as deep–only the tip of his cock and the first few inches can fit inside you with your legs pressed together between his thighs. And it requires a lot of bouncing on your knees, contracting your lower abdominals, to thrust yourself onto him. But it feels so fucking good! The shallow, rapid thrusting that rubs the head of his cock against your entrance, sliding over your clit with each stroke. You’re riding him so fast that your breasts shake, and your entire body starts to sweat. Your thighs ache, and your arms grow sore, but you keep up the pace—faster and faster.

“Mmmph, please,” he begs, reeling on the edge of pleasure. “Please, I’m so close.”

The Mandalorian is completely helpless in this position. Unable to move his hips. You’re truly using him now—using him like a toy to get yourself off. Whatever you give, he has to take it. All of this stimulation concentrated onto the head of his cock.

“Not yet,” you growl. 

“Farrik, this is torture. Are you ever going to let me come?”

“Why should I?”

“You said if I behaved, you wouldn’t hurt me,” he throws his head back. “This feels pretty fucking hurtful.”

“You’ll come when I say so.”

Warmth ripples through you in waves. Every muscle in your body tightens, on the brink. You cry out—one long cry you can’t control—as blood rushes to your clit. The rapid friction spirals. Soars. You gasp, dizzy as everything else falls away, and then there’s nothing left of but the orgasm that takes over. Your cry turns into a scream as you come, your head swirling in the rush of pure ecstasy. Without anything to clench down on, you continue thrusting onto him throughout your climax. 

“It’s too good,” he groans. “It’s too good—I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna—unngh!” 

You both shudder as your bodies surrender to the intensity of your shared orgasm. With his cock this shallow inside you, you feel each hot spurt of come weeping out of you and dripping down his shaft. 

It’s so fucking hot in this cabin! What were you thinking? The wool stockings probably aren’t helping, but he said they look sexy. You’re covered in sweat, but so is Mando—his soft brown curls clinging to his neck. Your bodies had grown slick together in desperation to chase release.

Somehow you find the strength to get up onto your knees, letting his spent cock slip out of you before sitting back on your heels, still nestled between his thighs, their coarse hairs tickling your sensitive skin.   

“What do you have to say to yourself?” you gasp, trying to sound furious. Not really selling it.

The Mandalorian doesn’t mind. He smiles, mouth open wide in a sly grin. 

“Punish me,” he says.

You slap his cheek. Not as hard this time. Teasing. Playful. 

“Look at the mess you made. I think you should have to clean it up.”

“Yes, senaar’ika,” he says eagerly, as if wanting nothing more. 

Which is a relief. You’re testing the boundaries of degradation with this—but you can’t help it. The idea of him swallowing every bit of come he’d pumped inside you is fucking hot! As hot as this fucking shuttle.

“I’m not going to hold back this time,” you promise him.

Guiding one foot, and then the other, over his naked body—you position yourself on your hands and knees so that you’re straddling his chest with your back toward him. Presenting yourself. Despite your warning, you start by keeping most of your weight on your knees, staying still as he begins, his tongue licking and thrusting, his lips sucking and kissing. But soon, you grow volatile and start to rock against his mouth.

“This is how you learn,” you say between thrusts, getting back into the role, ending each word with a slight huff of air through your nostrils. “That—ha-aah—that you’re mine.”

Your toes slide under the pillows to slip beneath his neck, cradling his head in the arches of your feet. Tilting your hips, you shove yourself onto his face, and the Mandalorian’s mouth comes down over your flesh to suck out his come.

Pure pleasure ripples through you, almost blinding in its intensity. Mando starts to swallow, his jaw tensing with each deep pull. The suction is devastating! He wants to bring you to the brink of ecstasy and hold you there forever. If anyone can do it, he can.

You want him between your legs for hours. You want to ease this insistent aching tearing through you. Right now! Right there!

“Oh shit,” you brace yourself on his muscular thighs, fingernails digging into his skin as you grind down harder. “Gods, that tongue!” Your hips twist and writhe to get him deeper between your folds, using your feet to hold him pressed against your cunt. Right there! Right there!

Mando responds by sucking faster. 

You push up onto your hands and open your mouth in search of his cock. Nuzzling it with your cheeks, your lips slide over the tip, still covered in your come, painting your face with it. He moans, and the vibration against your swollen clit is what sends you into climax, thighs quivering. 

You shout, “Aanngh!” and then come, filling his mouth with heat. Quickly, he gulps it down, every drop, the action almost lost to you in the spasms of pleasure echoing through you, as your body trembles.

There is no strength left in your muscles—you just collapse on top of him. 

“You did so good,” you tell him breathlessly. “So so good.”

“Did I earn your forgiveness?” he asks, his breathing also ragged as he wipes his face along the pillows. You’ve made such a mess of him! He’s going to need another shower.

“Yes,” you moan, unable to take him back into your mouth until you can catch a full breath. All you can do is stroke his cock. Exhausted, you let your head fall onto his thigh, lapping at his skin and running your tongue under his soft sack. 

Mando arches his back and spreads his legs wider. Hmmm? You flick your tongue lower. Then, the bounty hunter draws his knees up, and you take it as an invitation. Do to me what feels good to you.

You circle your tongue, coaxing the tight, puckered skin of his asshole. His cock pulses back to life, growing hard and pressing against your throat. Yet you want to be cautious and give him the opportunity to say no if this makes him uncomfortable. Instead, he moans and digs his heels into the mattress.

“You want me to kiss it?”

“Yes,” he says—his voice barely more than a whisper. “Yes, please.”

“You should say please again, cyar'ika,” you demand gently. “I like hearing you beg.”

His lips brush against the curve of your ass, and then he bites. Not hard enough to bruise, just enough to take a bit of skin between his teeth. He truly is a terrible submissive!

“Please.” 

Honestly, it’s perfect! You need a break before your calves cramp up, or you pull a hamstring. Still lying prone over his body, you start licking his asshole in lush strokes with your flat tongue. "Ohhhhofuck," he gasps. It tastes a bit like soap, and you realize he’d cleaned himself to prepare for this. He’d been secretly hoping you would do this for him.

You're happy to oblige. Fingers spreading his cheeks, you flex your tongue to dip it inside him. 

“Fucking farrik!” he shouts, his body jumping underneath you.

His excitement gives you new life. After four orgasms, you can make an attempt to even the score. 

It’s a bit awkward climbing off of him, crawling up the bed, and squeezing yourself behind him despite all the pillows. Why do you own so many goddamn pillows? 

“What are you doing?” he asks, pleading for your attention as all the blood rushes back into his cock. It bobs hopefully between his thighs, growing harder.

You spread your legs open wide, so you can situate the Mandalorian more or less in your lap, with your knees placed on either side of him.

“Here,” you say, wrapping your arms around his long, lithe torso. “Lean back.” 

Mando obeys, letting himself fall against your chest, breasts pressing into his smooth skin and the pattern of scars lining his back.  

“How are your arms doing?”

You feel the tautness of his muscles and set to work soothing them, massaging your hands in aimless patterns over his shoulders, biceps, and forearms, then around his chest to smooth the flat muscle of his pectorals. 

But the bounty hunter remains silent. Unable to voice his desires. 

“Relax,” you whisper, feeling his heart pounding like a drum under your wrist. “You’ve made me so happy. I’m so pleased. Allow me to reward you.” You cup the tender skin of his inner thigh in your palm, drawing upward until the tips of your fingers press gently against his wet hole. 

When he moans with pleasure, you ask, “Have you done this before?”

“No,” he whispers, shaking his head. 

“But this is okay? You like it?” 

He nods enthusiastically but says nothing. 

“Green?”

“Green.”

You flick his ear lobe with your tongue. “It’s going to feel so fucking good. I’m going to make it sweet and easy for you.”

You start with delicate circles using the pads of your fingers. Your other hand wraps around the base of his cock, tightening and loosening your fist as you move up the length of his shaft. Twist and grip, teasing the ridge around the head of his cock with your thumb.

He breathes out hard and lets his head slump against your shoulder. You ask, “Is this enough?”

The Mandalorian clutches at your legs, bucking his hips and thrusting urgently into your hand. “More.”

Oh! Well, in that case… 

Reaching an arm out, you slip one of his wrists free from the bindings and guide his hand down between his legs, placing it over his throbbing cock. “I want you to stroke yourself, cyar'ika, while I play with you.” Then, your other hand closes over his mouth to pull his head back even further, exposing the long column of his throat.

“Moan for me,” you breathe into his ear. “Bite down on my hand. Let me know how much you want it.”

You place your fingers inside your mouth, sucking on them shamelessly before returning to rub them in tight, ceaseless spirals around his puckered skin.

Then, he does moan—a choked sob against your palm. His muscles relax, and your fingertips dip deeper. His flesh is soft and yielding. You have to resist the urge to make a joke about how you expected his asshole to be tighter. Your knuckles knead and part his flesh, and this time, he whimpers—a definite whimper—that escapes between your fingers.

The Mandalorian had neatly trimmed his nails for you—even his toenails are immaculate. You, on the other hand, have long, polished tips in accordance with the standards of elegant femininity required for work. He wanted more, but you don’t want to hurt him, so you remove your hands from his body to tear open one of the condoms from the bedside table.

“You like this?” 

“Green,” he gasps, continuing to draw his fist over the length of his shaft. “Fucking forests—fields of green.”

You laugh, relieved that he seems to be enjoying himself. If he really wanted more…

Clambering over his outstretched legs, you position yourself once more between his thighs, lying flat on your stomach. It gives you an amazing view of his absolutely gorgeous cock and surprisingly well-groomed ass cheeks. Oh, he’d definitely been hoping for this! Mando, your little butt-slut. You slip one finger—okay, maybe two—inside the condom, using the lubrication to ease him open.

“Haa!” the Mandalorian whimpers again. “Mmmph!” 

Gods, that’s hot! The noises he’s making and the way his body writhes in pleasure has your stomach clenching. Crossing your legs at the ankle, you press your thighs tightly together against the throbbing pressure.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps. You feel him squeezing around you. Thankfully, the spot you’re seeking isn’t that far inside him.

“Just breathe. That’s right. Arch your back. I knew you’d love this. You’re doing so good. Push that sweet hole onto my fingers.”

Even through the latex, you can feel that small, firm little pebble of tissue under your fingertips. 

“Oh, holy shit!” he shouts again.

“It feels good there, doesn’t it?”

Very slowly, you twist your fingers inside him—gently drawing them out and slipping them back in so he can feel more friction against his nerve endings. He starts to quiver, the muscles in his legs tightening and trembling like a bowstring.

“Doesn’t it feel good when someone else fills you up?” You ask him in a low, sultry voice. “When you can just lie there and take it.”

Tentatively, you start massaging inside him, working your fingers back and forth. The Mandalorian writhes atop the mattress, "Haa!" twisting from side to side, moaning in pleasure. “Haa, hmmm, aah!”

“Don’t worry about how much you can take, cyar'ika. Because it’s not up to you. I decide what you want.”

You rise onto your elbows so that you can look upon his face. Because reactions like these really need to be seen to be understood.

“Alright, Mandalorian, you’re going to fuck my mouth while I finger your ass.” It’s not open for debate. “I want to feel your cock throbbing in my mouth. And then, you’re going to swallow every last drop.”

“Annngh!” he cries out as every muscle in his abdomen contracts at once, pushing your fingers out with the force of his surging climax.

“That was almost a word,” you say sarcastically.

“I will,” he groans.

“Do you love eating come, cyar’ika?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

He submits. “I love eating come.”

With a satisfied smile, you take him into your mouth and begin to suck. He’s so huge that you can barely use your tongue, but you bob your head, doing the best you can while pushing your fingers back inside him.

“Fuck, right there. Holy shit, right there.” With each stroke, you alternate softening your touch when sucking harder, pressing harder when you lick slowly. “Oh shit, that feels so fucking good.”

Mando’s free hand cups the back of your head, fingers threading in your hair, and he starts thrusting. His girth forces you to open your jaw all the way, the velvety head of his cock sliding into your throat so that you can hardly draw breath.

“Gods above, I love it when you take me deep.”

He fills you all the way to your throat. You gag around him, but he just keeps going. “That’s it…” The Mandalorian thrusts in harder as he tugs on your hair. “Choke on my cock.”

Okay, he’s maybe reclaiming too much dominance, but you’ve no urge to check him. Let him have this! He’s earned it.

You suck harder, massage your fingers faster inside him. Salty come slicks the inside of your mouth, moistening your lips. You brace an elbow against his leg—his thigh muscles rock-hard with tension—and use your other hand to start working him, twisting your fist around him with every stroke, pumping his cock.

“Fuck! Yes! Fuck that’s perfect. Don’t change anything. Keep sucking my cock. Don’t stop. Fuck! Please don’t fucking stop. Nnngh!” 

You feel every vein, every throb. The combined sensation of your hand, mouth, and fingers is too much for him. He shouts out your name, and then he comes, filling your mouth with each hot, salty spurt. You hold it under your tongue, saving it for him.

“Keeping sucking. Aah, aah, aah. I’m gonna come again. Fuck I’m going to fill your mouth with come. Haa-aah.” 

You marvel at the bulge of his calf muscles as he digs his heels into the mattress, vaulting his hips off the bed. He lets out a stream of incomprehensible words. Prayers—profanity—you have no idea. You really should learn more Mando’a. 

The bounty hunter collapses back onto the pillows, still shuddering through every wave of incomparable pleasure. Crawling up his body, arching your back and swaying your hips, you grip his face tightly between your fingers, forcing his jaw open with your thumb. Then, you gather the well of his come onto your tongue and spit it into his open mouth.

“Say thank you,” you lean forward and purr into his ear teasingly. But it’s the wrong thing to say.

“Red.”

The Mandalorian slips his other wrist free from the binding and grabs you by the throat, pushing you back onto the bed underneath him. Panic floods your body. Is he going to hurt you? Some men become angry after realizing how much they enjoy something others tell them to be ashamed of. Some men make masculinity into a prison.

Tears well behind your eyes. You don’t want to be brutalized by this man you care for so deeply. But he gathers you into his arms and kisses your hair. 

“Fuck, woman, you sucked me dry.”

You feel hot teardrops pooling against your neck. Not yours—they’re his. He’d come so hard he was crying.

“Hold me,” Mando pleads, and your arms spring up to wrap around him. Nestling his forehead against your shoulder, you stroke up and down the length of his spine while his body shudders, saying nothing as he chokes back sobs.

“I feel empty,” he says, finally breaking through the silence. “Not hollow…but like…there’s nothing inside me, no tension left in my body. It just…exists. I see why you like it." A deep sigh pours from his lips and onto your cheeks. "Just letting the waves of pleasure wash over you until you're drowning. And then...nothing.” The Mandalorian’s voice is so profoundly contemplative. “Is this what being relaxed feels like?”

You both stare at each other before bursting into hysterical laughter. You fall onto the pillows, the laughter trailing off, only to rise again out of the silence. Mando laughs until his body seems to ache, until he collapses back, limp and wrung out, glistening with sweat.

You let your head fall onto his chest, listening to the hard rasp of his breathing.

"Was that okay?"

Your head snaps up to look at him. "You're asking if I'm okay?"

"Yeah. This was...amazing. You knew everything I wanted. Truly, little dove, it was perfect. Was it good for you?"

He's the one getting tied up and smacked around, but his first thought is of you. Your needs. No one outside this cabin would believe that of the Mandalorian, but it doesn't matter. He came here—to you—to be laid bare. So that you can see the truth in him.

"I loved it! Wielding control over the most powerful warrior I've ever known was a little intimidating...but exciting." You turn his face by the chin, examining him carefully. “I didn’t slap too hard, did I?”

“No. It was just right.” He pulls back enough to give you a good look. “Maybe sometime we could…you could fight me harder.”

Gods, his smile right now—it’s hungry and primal, and who knows what he’s imagining. With his hand on the back of your head, he pulls you closer and fits you tightly against him.

“Can you go again?” he asks, whispering into your ear. And fuck, if that doesn’t nearly set you off.

“Don’t tempt me,” you laugh. Your voice is hoarse from all the screaming—and taking his cock down your throat.

“I’m not tempting,” he says somberly against your hair. “I’m giving. I want to give it to you sweet.”

You drape an arm over him and prop your chin up against the back of your hand. “Sweet can be a little kinky.” 

“Part of me wants you to bite hard enough to leave a scar…so that every time I look down, I’d remember how wild you got, riding my cock. Your wet cunt of midnight. But…please,” he sighs, brushing the tendrils of sweat-soaked hair from your face. “Please. I need to be sweet.”

“Whatever you want, Mando, I will give it to you.”

“I know you know my name,” he whispers against your temple. “I want to hear you say it.”

You turn your head to look at him. “I want to give you everything, Djarin. Everything you need.”

The mask hides his eyes, but you feel them searching your soul for answers.

“I need you,” he says. “You’re what I need. ”

-----------

Until next time...

[bits-and-babs]

Hi sweet Jas, can I please request some forced proximity smut? A tight space and a whole load of sexual tension 😮‍💨 the character is up to you! Thank you!

𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 — 𝐃𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍

» PAIRING : The Mandalorian x Reader

» CONTENTS : Dry humping, dirty talk, Greef Karga and his loveable bullshit. Not proof read, who has time for that?

» DIN MASTERLIST : here || MAIN MASTERLIST : here

“Mando- Mando!”

You cry out as the durasteel walls of the trash compactor suddenly brace against your palms in your feeble attempt to prevent the kriffing things from smushing you.

Lodged between you and one of the walls, The Mandalorian stands firm. He, too, had been shouldering the advancing walls. The silver sheen of his beskar armour reflects your terrified expression, eyes frenzied as you realise they’ve stopped.

“Are you alright?!” Greef Karga’s voice sounds from above, no doubt shouting down the rubbish chute. This was the last time you were offering yourself up for a bounty mission on an Empire fleet ship- not even for five thousand imperial credi—

“We’re fine,” Mando’s raised, modulated voice sounds tinny in close quarters, hurting your eardrums. “If we let go, it’ll crush us.”

“I’ll find a way to get you out!” Karga calls down the chute, “Wait there!”

You cringe slightly at the order, finding it hard enough to safely unwind your limbs from The Mandalorian that had tangled in your desperate attempts to survive the compactor, let alone leave the blasted thing.

“Can’t wait anywhere else.” The Mandalorian’s response, muttered sarcastically, makes you huff out a laugh. He turns his face back to you, the beskar steel helmet barely brushing your nose.

One of his palms rests beside your head with his arm locking you in place, while his left leg, situated between your own, pushes the toe of his boot into the wall. Your own hands are settled on the opposite side of the compactor, trapping his body between your forearms. It’s a tight squeeze.

Blackness stares back at you, his tinted visor obscuring the view of his eyes. Besides the shaky rise and fall of his chest plate, thanks to his exertions in trying to stop you both from becoming Jawa Juice, Mando offers no insight into how he’s feeling.

Swallowing thickly, you cast your eyes to the darkness above your heads. It’s ridiculous, but you can feel his body heat from the breaks in his armour, covered only by his undersuit. It makes your heart flutter, the biting scent of leather.

“… I apologise,” his voice cuts through the silence and causes you to jump, “This-… This is uncomfortable for you.”

“‘S okay,” you mumble weakly, attempting to smother the butterflies that launch in your stomach at the soft, soothing whisper of his voice.

Silence settles between the two of you again. Despite your attempts to loosen up, the searing gaze through The Mandalorian’s visor feels as though it’s settled on your face, burning a hole into your lips. Stars, there must be fumes in the rubbish beneath your feet, driving you crazy.

Swallowing, you avoid his line of sight by looking at literally everything else. The woven flight suit that conceals his neck, the contours of his shoulder plates. Was that a Mudhorn-?

The sharp inhale through your nose as his knee brushes against your heat practically ricochet off the walls, eyes finally snapping to his visor against your better judgement. Unmoving, he offers nothing to infer he even noticed how he effortlessly set your body alight as though he’d triggered the flamethrower on his vambrace. Surely not. Surely he’d just been adjusting his foot to hold the wall better!

“You’re fogging up my eyeshade.”

It’s mortifying. Condensation from your heavy breaths is steaming up the silver beskar of his mask. The Mandalorian’s voice is flat but rich, and you can’t read his tone through that fucking modulator!

“S-orry,” you stumble over your apology when his thigh drags between your thighs deliberately, the second syllable coming out in a pathetic little squeak.

“Don’t be,” he says. “Don’t hold your breath.” He catches you before you even manage to still your lungs in embarrassment. “I want to hear them.”

His admission has the air trapped in your throat expelling in a quiet whine, unable to stop the noise from slipping out when he slooowly grinds his thigh up and forwards, rolling your clit between the layers of fabric.

“Hoh- '' you heave another breath, the mist encroaching across the beskar of his mask and mattifying the shine of the pure metal. “Oh fuck-“

“Don’t move,” he orders calmly. It sounds less like an order and more like an observation. “You need to hold the wall.” Yes. Yes, he has to remind you that you’re in a life-threatening situation, because the simple friction is enough to numb your brain with the thrill.

You whimper softly, shaking your head. The tip of your nose drags against the cold metal of his mask, sweeping through the misty dew and exposing the shine beneath. Stars, you can see your expression through the track you leave behind. It’s obscene, jaw slack and eyelids heavy as you mindlessly grind your hips down on the cuisse beneath you.

“So desperate you’re willing to risk your life,” he murmurs, watching you use him to get off like you’re a fragment of kyber- the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. “You like this? Using me to get off when your life hangs in the balance?”

“Y-ou starte-ahh-“ your pussy clenches as he drives his thigh up to match the roll of your hips. It grinds just right, and you arch against the throbbing hum between your legs.

“I started it,” he nods slightly, the low lighting flickering off the grooves and concaves of his mask, “I did. But you wanted it first. Burning for it.”

He’s right. Fuck, The Mandalorian is right, and you’re too far gone to be ashamed by his observation. If you weren’t on the brink of an obliterating orgasm, you’d be mortified that he’d found it so easy to read you.

You stifle a sob by biting the flesh of your lip as your clit drags against the smooth metal again. Trembling, your own thighs nearly give out entirely as you begin to crest the euphoric surge he’s pulling from you.

“Yes,” he breathes, his voice haggard as he watches you, “That’s it. That’s it, ther-“

“There!” A loud call bounces off the walls of the compactor room. A loud beep splits your eardrums, and suddenly the walls fall away as they draw back. The sudden lack of support has you falling into the chest plate of The Mandalorian in front of you, your orgasm blurring away between your thighs with the sudden lack of attention.

“Knew I could find the button!” Karga chuckles, the compactor walls falling in place to reveal your boss standing with his hands on his hips, grinning with a complete obliviousness that has you wanting to punch him in the face. With an ion cannon.

You sag against The Mandalorian slightly, devastated by Karga’s interruption. The little sigh you let out is pathetic, almost childish in nature.

“A thank you would be nice!” Karga chastises you, “I’ve never seen someone look so ungrateful to have their life saved!”

You swear you hear The Mandalorian huff a chuckle behind that stupid fucking mask, and you decide he was deserving of a punch with an ion cannon too.

-

-

[welcomingdisaster]

years of the trees tumblr dashboard simulator

🦜filitárifinds Follow

second mingling soft mouse

🌸 drunkinalqualonde Follow

second mingling soft mouse reblog for peace and comfort always

🌧️ hailxrainxstars Follow

i can't scroll past the mingling mouse

🪻dancer_spirit Follow

guys it's literally opening hour

🦦 whatabotterit Follow

opening hour will end but mingling mouse is forever

#sighs #i suppose i must reblog #second mingling soft mouse

( 12990 notes )

🌻sweetflowersofspring Follow

spilled all the seed pods at yavanna's temple and accidentally sa-si'ed in front of my crush (who only ever uses Þ 😭) and now i come home and learn the hounds have come loose and run off to chase the wild hunt... can i just get whatever queen miriel died from it's too late for me now folks

🔥lordoflight Follow

Explain to me how and why you think it's okay to joke about that.

#idiots online #disrespect #upsetting

( 12 notes )

🌳 twotreesdaily Follow

Yet another image which fails to capture the majesty and beauty of Laurelin, yet in its imperfection reveals the grandness and completeness of that design, which none shall surpass.

#perfection #beauty #tree #merging of light and life #the valar #gold #symbol of eternal youth and the divine feminine #wow

( 299 notes )

🐾 awwooooo Follow

join the wild hunt we've got deer jerky

🐾 awwooooo Follow

also orgies

🐾 awwooooo Follow

but seriously so much deer jerky there's too much someone please take some

( 188 notes )

🪺 maidenwithoutacause Follow

normalize taking naps and being so so sleepy

🗡️fireson5 Follow

That literally kills people.

🪺 maidenwithoutacause Follow

that was ONE time

#sorry op but it's literally 100% of our mortality rate he's got a point

( 355 notes )

🦢 silversmith Follow

"nolofinwë's right" this "curufinwë's right" that ... do we ever talk about how arafinwë just fucked off to to drink cocktails on the beach in alqualondë and married the hottest elf-maiden in all of aman? icon for this

( 82 notes )

Based on your likes!

🐞 bugdaughter Follow

any girls want to go to the macalaurë feanorian orchestral and exchange kisses under the starlight....

🐞 bugdaughter Follow

perhaps tenderly grasp each other's hands

🐞 bugdaughter Follow

... unwed

#not safe for tumblr #horny posting

( 19 notes )

🕊️ justsomevanya Follow

okay wondering if i'm weird

#polls #haha is it just me

( 58 notes )

🎶freepeoplefreesong Follow

gotta be real it's sad to see cancel culture coming for melkor he's done his time let him live

🌄 smithworkirl Follow

bestie he's a war criminal

🎶freepeoplefreesong Follow

he's coming to my house party tomorrow ✌️ peace and love

#seriously tho unfollow me if you think people can't change #the light is healing and cleanses all #don't you believe in redemption

( 31 notes )

⛰️ 12elves3kings

prince turukáno house of nolofinwë. you agree. reblog.

( 67 notes )

[psychedelic-ink]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑨𝑼𝑹𝑶𝑹𝑨 𝑩𝑶𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑺

pairing: din djarin x fem!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, romance, smut, forced proximity

word count: 2.8k

summary: A friend, lover, then stranger. The last thing you expected was to be snowed in along with the bounty hunter. Tension rises as the past circles you both, trapped in the Razor Crest with no where to run or hide.

warnings: established past relationship, piv, touch starved din, creampie, also this takes place after S2 but the Razor Crest is still here because I love it so much and miss it

a/n: As some people might remember, I had a winter WIP list called 'Psychedelic Winter,' and this was one of the fics that I said I would write. And I thought, 'Hey, what better moment to post this than the day Mando S3 drops?' Enjoy everyone, happy mando day!

When you were thrown onto an icy planet by your so-called colleagues, you didn’t really have a plan for survival. It was your fault really, you were too trusting, too eager to help and be useful. It was a stupid habit that you had since very little, forced to feed yourself in this lonely lonely world. 

However, it wasn’t always like that. 

With a shudder, you hug yourself, your boot-clad feet buried in the snow. The flakes feel like glass shattering across your skin, painful and cold. Even your lungs tremble from it. As you walk forward, your mind brutally reminds you of him. A man that became a friend, a confidant which had quickly turned into something more. Heat pools between your legs at the mere thought of it, the feeling of emptiness and cold prominent. 

The Mandalorian. Mando. Din Djarin. Din. 

You miss him still. You can’t really help it. You loved traveling with him, and after such a long time, you truly felt like you belonged. He became family. He became your everything. Soon after your little family grew, Grogu joining the fray. It felt like a dream, you were finally living out what you’d been searching for. 

But that all changed when Grogu had to return to his own kind. The Jedi. Din grew distant, he pulled away, not responding to you or your touches. You just felt grief emanating from him, something that you couldn’t fix. He didn’t ask you to leave, you just left. Once again alone, once again without a home. 

In your desperate attempt to replace it, you went with anyone who would tolerate your presence. You’ve met some good people, but you’ve met some assholes too—obviously. 

Your lashes turn into cold crystals, stinging every time you blink. In the distance you see a hint of yellow light that bleeds into red, you can feel the warmth of it despite being far away. Like a moth to a flame, you walk towards it, your steps fighting against the cold wind and the snow. You can’t feel your fingertips anymore, or your legs, or your face for that matter. You’re flirting with death. 

You notice that the ship most likely crashed. You press your freezing palms into the metal, still hot, a soft heat spreading throughout your hand and blossoming across your arms. You let out a sigh. It feels familiar like you’ve been here almost. Teeth clattering, you reach the door and give it a loud knock, your fists hurt when you do it, but you manage to muster your last bits of strength. 

The door opens with a muffled hiss and you find yourself immediately staring into a blaster. 

A very familiar blaster. 

You quickly realize why this ship felt familiar, it was the goddamn Razor Crest. Your home—once upon a time. 

The blaster falters, and you stare into the familiar dark visor, he tilts his head. You like to imagine that he’s happy to see you despite the shock. With a crooked smile, you mimic his movement, cocking your head to the side. 

“Hey, Din.” 

Everything is the same. Everything is different. It’s weird to be back within the Razor Crest’s metal walls. The ship creaks with the wind, metal groaning as Din sits across from you, his legs spread and elbows leaning over his knees. You chew the inside of your cheek. Having such intimate memories with someone is an odd thing, your body still remembers what it felt like to be filled so thoroughly by him, to have his large hands squeezing and kneading your ass as you dripped and begged for more. 

Heat settles right below your spine. You wonder if it’s the same for him too. Had he thought of you after you left? Had he rutted into the pillows imagining that it was you instead? 

Probably not. 

“The engines are messed up from the cold but as soon as the storm lets up a bit we should be good to go,” he says, refocusing your focus back on him. “We’re going to be stuck here for a while.” 

You nod, not really knowing what else to say. To be honest, you’re slightly embarrassed that he’s seeing you like this. 

“How did you end up here?” he asks. 

The question surprises you because you hadn’t expected him to make conversation. You can’t tell if he’s angry or not from the modulated voice. He sounds like he always does. You look up to him, wishing you could see his face. 

“Grouped up with the wrong people. You?” 

“After a bounty.” 

“Ah, the same old.” 

“Pretty much.” 

The following silence is uncomfortable, it makes you feel unwelcomed and slightly gross. You don’t know what to say. What can you say to the man you basically abandoned? That was never your intention, but it was what he wanted. He didn’t need you around, reminding him of something important that he’d lost. 

Your mouth acts unfiltered, the horror sinking in as soon as you ask. 

“Have you heard from Grogu?” 

He stiffens quite visibly. His shoulders raise, his visor looks down. You curse your tongue from moving on its own. Din’s anger is physically felt by you, it chokes out the air from your lungs, forces the soles of your shoes to be glued to the floor. Your eyes go wide and you swallow. Your lips are sealed shut when he stands, his figure suddenly larger and taller than what you’ve been used to from your memories. 

“You don’t need to ask about him,” he answers curtly. “We don’t need to talk at all.” 

Din storms towards the back of the ship, his long strides reverberating through the metal walls. His sudden outburst leaves you stunned, your thoughts scrambled like the tangled wires of a circuit board. The sound of sparks and him tinkering with something echoes within the confinements. You’re stunned. Confused. You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do, before the ship groans and shudders again. A loud groan vibrating from your feet to your chest. 

Your feet move of their own accord, propelled by a mix of curiosity and concern. As you approach, the cacophony of tinkering grows louder, the metallic clinks and whirs blending into a symphony of sound. At first glance it looks like he’s doing nothing, crouched over, just occupying his hands. You reach out to touch his shoulder, a hesitant gesture. To your surprise, he leans in instinctively, his body responding to your touch like a magnet to metal.

But then jerks away, as if he’s been burned. 

“What did you mean by that?” you ask, pulling away.

He huffs, his hands falling. “I just said we don’t have to talk.” 

“What if I want to talk? I missed you, Din.” 

It’s an unexpected, sudden confession but you decide to go with it. It isn’t a lie. You did miss him. 

“Miss me?” he hisses out, his head falling back, he stares at the ceiling. “You left.” 

“What? Are…are you blaming me for what happened?” 

“No,” he stands up, his masked face an inch away from yours. You fight the urge to take a step back. He wouldn’t hurt you. He slowly tilts his head as if he’s amused by whatever expression you’re pulling. “I’m stating a fact. Didn’t you go?” 

Your eyes fall to his chest, “I did but—” 

“Then I find you on the brink of death, shivering, helpless,” he lets out a deep breath, chest heaving. “Was it worth it?” 

“I left because you didn’t want me around.” 

Your gaze snaps back up. He doesn’t move, the visor staring back at you feels colder compared to the storm raging outside. The build-up of tears is sudden, overwhelming. Your face controls with anger, your brows pinched and your lips curling down. The rage twists in your gut, you’ve been suffering, doing jobs left and right to feed yourself. And he has the audacity to tell you that it’s your fault? That he never wanted you to leave? 

Bullshit. 

Without thinking you push him away, your hands finding the cold plates that decorate his chest. He doesn’t move. An indestructible wall. Shaking your head, you push at him again, and again, and again. When nothing works, you hammer down with fists. Your heart beats loudly and painfully in your chest. You can’t breathe. You can’t speak. It’s suffocating and cold. So fucking cold. 

Your fists stop mid-air when he holds them, gloved fingers wrapped tightly around your wrists. 

“I never asked you to leave.” 

“You didn’t have to,” your eyes fall, shame heating your cheeks. “You barely spoke to me. Touched me. It felt like I was reminding you of a tainted memory. Something you could never have again.” 

“That’s not…dank farrik—” 

He pulls you in, arms coiling around you with the intent to never let go. The beskar is uncomfortable but comforting. Your hands shake as you return in like, wrapping your arms around him weakly. His hand cradles the back of your head, the other one sliding down to rest against the small of your back. He doesn’t say a word but you know this is his own peculiar way of apologizing. Even if he’s not sure what he’s apologizing for. Neither of you are. Luckily, you have a very functional mouth. 

“I thought you wanted me gone after…I didn’t know. I should’ve realized you were hurting. I was so afraid of what you might say that I acted before you actually said it.” 

“I was never planning on saying it,” he answers. “I missed you too, mesh’la.” 

His scent; metal, musk, and something sweet fills your lungs. You take deep inhales of him, grounding yourself back to reality. The hard surface of his helmet presses into the top of your head. The ache between your legs is uncomfortable, you want to touch him, feel his bare skin against yours. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks. 

You answer. “With my life.” 

“Then close your eyes for me. Let me guide you.” 

You do as you’re told. A dance that you’ve grown accustomed to once upon a time. The hiss of a helmet, the touch of his lips, the feeling of his hands cupping your bottom. He slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, reminding himself of what you felt like all those times ago. He tastes the memories he hasn’t been a part of, he gets used to the differences. 

When he parts, it’s hard to keep your eyelids from fluttering. You don’t open them, but the tease of the what if always remains. What would happen if you gave into temptation? Would he know you’ve seen him? Would he be angry? Would he never see you again? Would it be worth the risk? 

No, you think, It wouldn’t. 

“Touch me, riduur, I need you to touch me,” the last plea is spoken brokenly. “please.” 

Your hands roam his armor, blindly helping him out of it, touching every exposed skin and muscle. He’s trembling under your touch. You feel the thrust of his hips into yours, still clothed, desperate. Your skin prickles when you feel the hardness, heat pooling between your legs, and tingling. You’re just as desperate as he is. 

He takes your hand and leads you to the bunk. You feel him everywhere. His lips are on your breasts, kissing a trail down and circling the pebbled nipple with the tip of his tongue. He opens his mouth wide, fitting as much as he can as he sucks and bites. You arch into him, your hands still touching—tracing his back, cupping his ass, pulling him closer, asking him to thrust against you in the same desperate manner he had not moments ago. 

“Why did you leave?” he asks between wet, needy kisses. “Why did you go?” 

“I don’t know,” you say over and over. “I was scared, I’m sorry, I love you.” 

It was like a song that was whispered for their ears only. It’s a symphony of reminding themselves what they’d lost, and what they’d gained. 

Feeling him inside is a beautiful thing. Din is not a small man, not in the slightest, and he has to cover your eyes just in case when he fills you. It’s a smooth entry, your wetness enough to pull him deep inside. Your walls flutter, the blissful pain of the stretch makes you moan his name. The first thrust is like fireworks in your mind, bursting with pleasure. The second one you feel like ice, melting into the motion of his hips and the warmth of his cock. 

“Harder,” you breathe out. “Harder, fuck me, Din.” 

His teeth sink into your neck, his pacing fast, hard. The sound of skin against skin is loud enough to drown the sound of the snowstorm outside. You push against each thrust, albeit your movements not really doing much, uncoordinated and unpracticed. Din pins your hips down, his fingers like iron branding your skin. He hammers into you, the dark curls stimulating your clit forcing out a gasp from you. 

“Look at me.” 

“What?” 

“Look at me. Open your eyes.” 

His hips slow down into a tortuous grind. Your bottom lip trembles at the thought. You’re scared to open your eyes, and frankly, you’re not sure if you heard him right. His thumb smooths over your closed lid, gently pulling them down.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers. “I want to see you. I want to see the look in your eyes when you come for me. I want you to see mine.” 

“Are…are you sure?” 

Your heart feels like a ticking time bomb, your chest ready to explode, the ticking in your ears too loud. 

“I’m sure.” 

Your eyes open incredibly slow, fearful. Din’s face clears up and you see him smiling down at you, his hair mussed, sticking to his forehead due to sweat. Hesitantly, you place a hand on his cheek, feeling the trimmed down hairs with the pad of your thumb. He leans into your touch. 

“Now, that wasn’t so scary was it?” he asks, you smile and shake your head. 

“No, it wasn’t.”

He kisses you. It’s different this time, softer, slower. He resumes his thrusts, hips snapping into you with the intent of release. His one hand slides between your bodies, thick fingers finding your clit and starting to draw quick, tight circles around the sensitive nub. The skin above your stomach grows tight, your thighs shaking against the broadness of his hips. You can’t get enough of him. Kissing him and at the same time trying to look at him. You engrave his face into memory. 

Din breaks the kiss with a rush, his one hand cradles your cheek, tilting your head up to him. He holds your gaze, his lips parted. You feel your cunt fluttering around him, his cock heavy and throbbing deep inside you. Din spills into you with a groan, his hips stuttering forward. You follow right after, the sight of him too much. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and his eyes roll back, you gush around him, your body convulsing as a silent promise never to let him go. 

When both of you come down from your highs, he kisses you. Again and again. A man starved. A man desperate. Only one plea falling from his lips. 

“Touch me.” 

You wake up with his touch on your shoulder. When you open your eyes memories come flooding back, you and Din, again you had found your home. You wince as you slowly get up, the ache between your legs uncomfortable but missed. You notice that Din is in full armor, waiting for you outside of the cot. 

“Come with me,” he says, voice hoarse. “I want to show you something.” 

He helps you into your clothes and his hand never leaves your waist as the two of you make your way up to the cockpit. The storm had subsided, only snow falling scarcely from the heavens above. He points you to look up, and you do. 

Your breath catches in your throat. The sky is alight with an otherworldly dance of colors - the aurora borealis.

The lights shift and shimmer, painting the sky with vibrant hues of green, blue, and purple. It's as if the entire galaxy has come to life, it’s beautiful. 

Din's arms wrap around you from behind, and you melt into his embrace. The warmth of his body against yours, the strength of his grip, and the steady rhythm of his breathing all serve to ground you in the moment. You feel safe, and you feel loved.

The aurora continues to dance above you, you lean your head back against Din's chest. It's like nothing else matters in the world except for this moment - just the two of you, surrounded by the beauty of the cosmos.

And as you look up at the lights, you know that you are home.