#but i don’t want them to be a mando. i don’t know much about mando culture and i cba to learn so that was the one i did not want hem to be | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedroshotwifey · 3 months

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Beg For It

Pairing: Virgin!Din Djarin x afab!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Tags/warnings: piv sex, oral (m), cock worship, virgin din, premature ejaculation, teasing, humiliation, sub din, dom reader, degradation, cockpit sex™, embarrassment, age gap (younger reader), din djarin's monster cock, helmet stays on, pet names, snarky reader, experienced reader, stuff I'm forgetting (c'mon guys, it's me.)

Summary: You make a shocking discovery about Din and decide to do something about it.

A/N: Hey babes! Sorry if you're waiting on TTF or FB rn, but my brain does not want to cooperate atm. TTF 4 should be out relatively soon, but I'm not sure about FB. I hope you like this fic, bc I have no idea where it came from 🤣 My asks are always open in the meantime!!

***

“Fuck, it’s tight in here,” you complain as you stuff yourself into the small alcove exposed by the panel that was just removed from the Crest’s wall.

“And a fucking mess. Do you ever organize this shit, Din?”

The exasperated sigh that comes from behind you is enough to answer your question.

You roll your eyes as you reach for the tangled ball of wires in front of you. No wonder the lights have been flickering. You’re lucky it wasn’t anything worse than that.

“Who would even be doing this shit if you didn’t have me? Not like your broad ass could fit in here.”

Mando scoffs behind you.

“We got along perfectly fine before you,” he argues. “Grogu could fit in there, I’d have him do it.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh.

“Yeah, that would go over well.”

Din ignores your quip as he comes up to your side and nudges you with his boot.

“Hey! Can you not?” You turn your head to bite out at him even though he can’t see you.

“Scootch over,” he demands. “I need to see what you’re doing so you don’t blow the ship up or something.”

“Wow, it’s really reassuring to know how much faith you have in me, Mando.”

You swear you hear him bite down on a laugh and you smile despite yourself. You squash yourself to the side as much as you can, allowing a small gap so Din can peek in beside you. He groans as he lowers himself to his belly.

“Poor old man,” you can’t help but tease. “Bad knees getting to you?”

“Shut up,” Din quips.

You don’t actually know how old Din is, but you’re placing your bets on late thirties or early forties. Definitely older than you either way, but not quite old enough to be deserving of your quips. That’s not going to stop you, of course.

By the time he’s looking inside, you’ve untangled the mess of wires and separated the two that need to be switched.

“Damn it, Mando, you’re blocking my light. I can’t see shit.”

He sighs for the umpteenth time today.

“Really? There’s plenty of light,” he argues.

“Yeah, maybe when you have a fucking night vision mod in your helmet. Get up and tell me what to do from there.”

He obeys but you swear you hear him mutter something about being bossy through a groan.

“What have you done so far?”

“I’ve separated the red and blue wires from the rest.”

“Okay, go ahead and pull them both from their outlets.”

You try to pull them off, but you can’t quite reach the outlets on the back wall.

“Damn it,” you mutter.

You shove your knees under yourself and arch your back in attempt to push yourself further into the wall. Straining a bit, you’re able to grasp both ends and successfully tug them towards yourself.

“Got it, what now?”

“Put the red wire where the blue wire was, and the blue where the red was,” Mando instructs. His voice sounds much raspier than it had a second ago, making you quirk a brow.

“You okay there?” you ask as you finish the task.

“Yup,” he croaks.

“Okay, I’m coming out.”

You start to wriggle yourself back, and you hear Din make a strangled sound before biting down on it. It’s not until you feel your ass waggling with your movement that you realize what has him so worked up. A sly smirk quickly spreads across your face as you decide there’s no harm in teasing him a bit.

You groan and arch your back further as you back out, your ass up in the air as much as you can get it. You take your sweet time sitting up once you're out, and you can almost feel the heat coming from Mando by the time you do. You turn around to face him only to find that he’s avoiding your gaze, his hands clasped together casually in front of his crotch. You honestly wonder who he thinks he’s fooling—there’s not much that could hide a tent that size.

“What’s the matter, big boy?” you ask sweetly. “You look a bit flustered.”

“N-nothing.”

You have to physically bite down on your lip to avoid laughing at his voice crack. You’ve never heard him struggle so much. He clears his throat and tries again.

“Nothing’s wrong, cyar’ika.”

“Hm. You sure? Because I’m pretty sure you were checking my ass out a second ago.”

Din chokes on nothing as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“I was not!” He bites out in a panicked tone.

“Nothing wrong with it, I get it. I’d check out my ass, too,” you laugh and shrug. He looks down at his feet and your brows furrow. This might be the most flustered you’ve ever seen him.

“Dude, it was just an ass, not a big deal. I’m sure you’ve seen much more than that,” you chuckle lightly.

He slowly looks up at that, and time comes to a stop as things click into place in your head.

“Holy shit,” you say, bewildered. “You haven’t seen more than that. You’re a virgin aren’t you?”

You grin when he says nothing in response. No fucking way the Mandalorian hasn’t fucked or been fucked before. Hell, you’ve wanted to fuck him since you came aboard this junk pile of a ship. Damn, you’re going to take this opportunity and fucking run with it.

“Poor baby Din, never had pussy before,” you coo at him as you stand all the way up. “What’s the matter? Is it too small? Maybe you don’t even like pussy. You want a big strong man to fuck your ass?” You know you’re just spouting anything you think might get under his skin at this point.

“N-no,” he bites out, though there’s not much conviction behind it. You continue walking towards him, forcing him toward the cockpit’s pilot seat.

“No? You don’t like cock, Din?”

“I think you need some help, big guy. You clearly need someone to dominate you, since you don’t have the balls to step up yourself. You’re lucky I’m here, I can show you how good it can be.”

Din’s hands move closer to his clothed cock to hide the twitch that ensues from your words. You see the movement and it only spurs you on. He gulps again as you keep walking toward him.

“No, I-”

“Take a seat, Mando.”

He crosses his arms and stands up straighter, leveling you with a defiant stare you can practically feel through his beskar helmet.

“I will do no such thing.”

“Oh,” you reply, crossing your arms and returning the look. “But you will.”

You glance down at the impressive bulge in his flight suit, smirking when you catch him shift ever so slightly under the weight of your gaze.

“I think you want to sit down for me, Mando. And I think you’re going to be begging for my cunt by the time I’m done with you.”

You take a step toward him, and you can see the subtle way he stops himself from taking a step back in response. You stop in front of him and let your hand down to graze his covered length. There’s a sharp intake of breath barely heard throughout the hull. If you had been standing where you were a few seconds ago, you would have missed it.

“Sounds like you already want to, actually.”

You cup him fully now, and a strangled sound slips through his tightly sealed lips.

“Poor little virgin Din, doesn’t even know how good he could have been feeling all this time,” you tease, giving him a light squeeze.

“S-stop,” he grits out, uncrossing his arms to grab your wrist with one hand. Your movements come to a swift stop.

“Ask me again, and I will,” you tell him. “But I don’t think you really want that, do you? I think you want to stick your dick inside my warm pussy and come your dumb little brains out.”

There’s a brief silence as you stare each other down, and you can almost feel the way he starts to consider his options.

“I-”

You give him another squeeze, tighter this time, and his hips buck forward as another animalistic sound tumbles from his tongue.

“Fuck, please,” Din whines as he gives up trying to hold back. You grin wildly at the sound.

“Please, what, Din? What do you want?”

“P-please fuck me!”

Your hand flattens against him and starts to rub sensually up and down, giving him enough friction to have him shivering with each pass.

“Okay, baby. Sit down like I told you to, and I’ll take care of you.”

He nods as you start to lead him backwards, the back of his knees hitting the cockpit chair and forcing him to follow your instructions.

“What a good boy,” you lean forward to coo at the side of his helmet, right where his ear would be. “Why don’t you take your cock out for me?”

You push yourself away from him, your hands placed on either arm rest as you lean over him. Din hesitates for a moment, clearly not used to the kind of vulnerability you’re asking him to surrender.

“Go ahead, baby. I promise I won’t make fun.” In fact, you know you won’t. Judging by the massive tent in his pants, there is absolutely no way that Din Djarin is anywhere near small. Not that you’ll tell him that, of course.

You stare intently as he gulps and lets his hands trail down to unbuckle his belt and shakily pull his zipper down, revealing his boxers. He waits a beat before pulling himself completely out, and you have to fight to keep your jaw from dropping when he does.

“Holy shit, Djarin,” you gawk. “Well, your dick definitely wasn’t the problem. Scared some people off if anything.” Honestly, it almost scares you. You don’t think your hand could even fully wrap around it if you grabbed it right now.

You look back to his helmet, making what you hope is eye contact. Judging by the way he shifts in the seat, you’re pretty sure you’re spot-on.

“You’re so pretty, Din. It’s a shame nobody’s ever told you.”

“T-thank you,” he breathes, his head turning slightly.

“I want you to put your hands on the armrests while I show you how pretty I think you are.”

He hesitates, obviously still not sure about any of this.

“Go ahead,” you prompt. “Unless you want me to cuff you to the damn chair.”

At this, he quickly obeys your request and lets his hands go to grip the rests. His cock slaps up, hard and leaking against his covered stomach. He twists his neck all the way to the side, avoiding eye contact as much as he can manage. As much as he’s resisting giving in, you can see how his chest heaves with desire. In this case, the lust is simply stronger than the embarrassment.

You quickly bring a hand up to grab at the bottom of his helmet, roughly jerking his head back to look at you.

“You’re going to watch me while I suck your cock. If I see you look away, you’re not going to like what happens after.”

Din shivers and nods, shaken slightly by your authoritative tone.

“Say ‘yes, ma’am’.”

You watch his throat bob as he gulps down his nervousness.

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathes out.

“See, you can be such a good boy when you put your mind to it.”

You slink down to your knees and place your hands on his thick, tense thighs. With your eyes level with his cock, you’re able to watch the way a spurt of precum dribbles down from the tip.

“Look at that, baby. Little dick is drooling already and I haven’t even touched you.”

Din tenses and clenches his hand but makes a point not to look away. Good, at least you know he’s listening. Who knew how easy it is to tame a Mandalorian? A little humiliation and degradation can go a long way.

You lean forward, grabbing hard onto his thighs in reminder to keep his hands where they are as you stick your tongue out to scoop up the precum leaking down his shaft. His hips jut forward, and you swear you hear a quiet whine from his helmet. You can’t help but chuckle lightly.

You decide not to waste your time with little licks, and instead lean forward to take his entire tip into your mouth. Now you definitely hear a whine. You struggle to shove more of him into your mouth and down your throat, his girth making it much more of a task than it needs to be.

You can feel yourself getting wetter just from the thought of how deliciously he would stretch you out in other places. It really is a damn shame he’s kept this absolute monster tucked away for so long.

His fingers twitch at the same time his head slams back into the headrest, though he keeps it angled down so he can keep watching you. You have to swallow a few times to work him all the way down, and by that time you can almost feel the way he’s tightened up to restrain himself.

You take pity on him and pull back, resisting the urge to gag as his weight drags across your throat again. A string of spit connects you to his shiny cock as you smirk up at him.

“Tell me how it feels, sweet boy.”

“F-feels s-so good, c-cyare,” Din squeaks.

“Yeah, you want more?”

He nods furiously and you immediately flick the tip of his swollen cock, earning you a strangled yelp as his hips buck wildly.

“What’s the matter? Finally got your dick wet and suddenly you forget how to speak?”

He begins to shake his head before catching himself and giving you a verbal response.

“N-no–I mean, yes, yes I want more! Please touch me,” he thrusts his hips forward again, though you're not sure if it’s voluntary or not.

“Alright, since you asked so nicely.”

You quickly grasp him and start to pump him furiously, leaning to him again to drool on his tip. The extra lubricant makes your hand glide more smoothly, your pace picking up to the point where you can see his balls drawing up.

You work your mouth in tandem with your fist, worshiping his throbbing cock with open mouthed kisses and gentle nips on the exposed skin. You close your eyes for a second to savor the way he feels between your lips, and the salty flavor that graces your tongue. If you died with Din Djarin’s dick in your mouth, you would die a happy woman.

“C-cyare, I-”

He cuts himself off as you quickly pull yourself away, leaving him with nothing but your cooling spit to focus on.

“No, no, no–ung–I, p-please!”

You laugh at him as he thrusts up, trying to find some kind of friction. His voice sounds wet, almost like there are tears in his eyes.

“Aww,” you stand back to admire his writhing body. “Poor thing can’t remember anything but ‘please’. That’s cute. Not hard to get you dumb, is it, Mando?”

You start to strip in front of him, and his hands come up from the armrests.

“You better not be moving your fucking hands, Din,” you warn. “I know where you keep those damn binders, don’t think I won’t use them.”

He groans but lets his wrists back down. His feet shift instead since there’s nothing else he’s able to move at the moment. He whines again as your top comes off with your bra, and then your pants with your panties.

Fully naked and obviously soaked, you stalk toward him yet again, stopping to place your hand on his shoulder as you climb into his lap, careful not to touch his cock just yet. You settle your thighs over the tops of his and spread your legs.

When you look up at him, he’s staring you back in your eyes, refusing to look down. You smirk once you realize why.

“Don’t get shy on me now, baby boy,” you say. “Go ahead and look at my pussy, I know you want to.”

You watch him slowly lower his gaze and breathe out a curse once it lands on your seam. Leaning forward, you whisper again to the side of his helmet.

“You can move a hand, Din. Spread me open.”

He visibly trembles at your command but lifts an arm none-the-less. You feel his fingers trail gently down to where you want him, but he stops just short.

“T-take my glove off, please. Want to feel you, cyar’ika.”

You smile at him and carefully bring his hand up to pull his glove off, his dick twitching as you do so. You lick your lips as a tanned and scarred hand is revealed. It’s ridiculous how attracted you are to that simple appendage. You wish you could see his entire body, but you know that’s not a likely scenario.

Once his glove is discarded on the floor, he moves back to your cunt and sucks in a harsh breath as he feels you.

“You’re s-so wet,” he says in a way that makes you unsure if he meant to say it out loud or not.

You laugh quietly and guide his hand so that he can prod at your hole, to which he chokes.

“That’s all because of you, sweet boy.”

You move your hips forward, and his fingers slip through your seam, your slick collecting on the rough pads. You grasp his wrist to bring his hand to your lips, opening your mouth to suck your tang of the digits at the same time as you let your pussy push against the underside of Din’s cock.

Another animalistic noise accompanies the way his entire body jolts at the sudden contact. With a pop, you pull his fingers from your mouth to make room for the giggle that bubbles up from your throat.

“Poor baby’s so sensitive!” you exclaim as you grind against him, making him groan with each pass. Both of his hands grip down hard, one on the rest and the other on your thigh. The man has a fucking grip, you’re sure there will be five little bruises littered across your skin tomorrow. You wonder how good that grip would feel on your hips as he drills himself into you from the back, and file that thought back for another day.

You shudder as his tip bumps up against your clit, sending little shocks up your spine and making you dizzy.

“Gonna fuck you now, baby boy,” you breathe. “You want that? Want to stick your cock inside me?”

“I-ungh-yes, yes!”

“Yeah?” you ask as you keep up your movements. “Beg for it.”

“P-please,” Din asks a bit too quietly for your liking. You would bet all the credits you won that he’s blushing under that armor right now.

“Oh, come on now, you can do better than that.”

There’s a short moment where you think Din isn’t going to do it, and a lump of disappointment gets stuck in your throat. Luckily, he doesn’t make you sit with it for too long.

“Please, please put my d-dick in your pussy, want to feel you, please! I-I can’t–I want–”

In the middle of his babbling, you lift yourself up and line his cock with your entrance, slowly lowering yourself down. His hands fly to your hips at the same time his thoughts fly from his brain, unable to think of anything but the way your tight pussy is parting to welcome his fat tip.

He’s never felt anything quite this pleasurable before, the sensation nearly blinding him as you work yourself down onto him.

Your head tilts back as Din holds onto your hips for dear life. The combination of that pressure along with the burn from his cock stretching you out is almost too much. You can feel a heat bubbling at the base of your spine, and he’s not even all the way inside of you yet.

“Oh, god, that’s so good, Din. You’re so good.”

He whimpers in response, though part of that may be due to the fact that your hips are now flush to his. You’re both panting, a sheen of sweat coating both of your bodies. You can’t see the perspiration on Din, but you can feel the moist heat emanating from him.

You open your eyes, not realizing they had been closed in the first place. You’ve never been this fucking full in your life. You swear you can feel him all the way up to your throat.

“M–plea–please move,” Din begs and lets his helmet rest on your forehead. His entire body is shaking with the effort of not blowing his load too quickly.

You grant his request, starting to rock your hips as you bring a hand to settle on his neck, delighted to find a damp mess of curls peeking out from his helmet at the nape. Din gasps as you tug lightly while lifting your hips.

You start a slow but steady rhythm, your skin slapping against each other each time you bottom out. His heavy cock drags against your walls, making your toes curl. A little whine sneaks out from Din’s concealed lips every time you sink down on him.

A lewd moan tumbles from your lips as you feel him punch against your cervix, tucking in further than you’ve ever been able to reach before.

“Fuck, Din! You’re so deep, baby!”

“I’m not g-going to last l-long, Meshla,” Din strains.

You ride him harder, taking that as a challenge. The tight thatch of hair at the base of his cock catches on your clit as you slam down on him, bringing you further to the brink. Something white hot flashes within your body, blinding you momentarily.

You’re not even able to tell him you’re close too before you’re clamping down on him, and he’s shouting as he loses control. Your moans tangle together as you soak his dick, your legs trembling unlike you’ve ever experienced before.

Din wraps his arms around you as he thrusts up into you, spilling himself within your heat. You’ve never in your life seen or felt anyone come as much as he does. Every time you think he’s done, you feel another spurt of his seed clinging to your walls.

By the time you’re both coming down, your ears have started ringing and your breathing has calmed down enough for you to get a word out, though you’re not sure Mando’s quite capable of that yet.

“Y-you good?” you manage to gasp.

You feel Din nod against you, and give yourself permission to lean against him. You’re wrung fucking dry. If this is what it feels like when you’re on top, what might it be like when Din’s in charge? The thought makes your body shudder and your pussy quiver. You sit in silence with him for a while until he finally breaks it with a voice just above a whisper.

“C-can we do that again?”

You laugh at hearing the last thing you expected to come from his mouth after that.

“Fucking maker, Din.”

***

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604to647 · 4 months

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Fics that Live in My Mind, Rent Free (Pedro's Version) - Part 1

Happy NYE! 🥳🥳

I read so many wonderful, hot, gut-wrenching, unforgettable, inspiring Pedro Pascal character fanfics... and I haven't been reblogging them 🫣 (it's me, hi, I'm the problem it's me). Don't hate me please - reblogging gives me so much anxiety, and I'm not even sure I could articulate why if I tried - and I see a lot of the discussion/discourse/posts re: reblogging and I truly understand all perspectives although it just seems to elevate my nerves about even more.

However, I understand the impact and moreover, I want to do it for the writers that bring me so much joy and inspiration, so I endeavour to try. I want to make it clear that this is a personal hang up of mine, and I have 100% absolutely no comments on how anyone else engages here; reblog/comment/like or don’t per your own preferences and you have nothing but love from me 😘

So it will be a 2024 personal goal of mine to be less shy about reblogging, but while I work up my courage/practice, I wanted to go back and compile a list of some of my fave Pedro boy fics; I think of each and every one of these fics often and have revisited them all (i.e. Exactly the fics I should have reblogged when I read them). I went deep in my likes so some of these fics are quite old; you may have already read them all! If you have or haven’t, I hope you love them as much as I do!

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian, GOAT)

Boxer!Din AU by @djarinsbeskar (Boxer and his masseuse, who relaxes him in more ways than one. I've mentioned before that this is the first Modern Din AU I ever read and it's cemented itself as one of the best. Making Safest with You Din an ex-boxer is my humble homage.)

Freu(Din)an Slip by @saradika (Is there space porn in the SW universe? Yes.)

Bare by @charnelhouse (part of an AU between Din and bounty hunter!reader; other favourite instalments include Come and Conquer and Din's Ex)

A Bond to My Soul by @whiskeynwriting (King!Din and reader, with a battle just outside the doors)

Mine also by @whiskeynwriting (Jealous Din, no need to say more)

Beloved series by @groguspicklejar (Din falls in love with Cyare; mind the tags - the writing is rich and the emotions deep)

Courting by @writerlyhabits (another Mandalorian tries to court you and Din's having none of that)

Hold me down by @starlightmornings (Din as your weighted blanket)

Be Mine by @spacecowboyhotch (Glove kink)

Save a Speeder, Ride a Mando by @sprout-fics (I love fics where Din is jealous of Cobb)

Helping Hand and Did you miss me? by @mellowswriting (Din smut and fluff; they're in love, okay?)

Fix you by @roguetonorth (Comforting Din)

Rough Day by @no-droids (I think everyone knows about this fic; Sweet Girl!Reader holds a special place in my heart)

Take me to Church by @frannyzooey (Western AU; seriously one of the hottest and most romantic series I've ever read. I cried several times 🥹)

Flowers & Sex by @221bshrlocked (Din and innocent!Reader)

Show me by @moralesispunk (A bounty gets mouthy)

Patience by @oscarseyebrow (Starts with cockwarming)

Close Quarters by @absurdthirst (One bed/bunk)

Reunion by @heybluechild (Breaking in the N1)

Significant by @softlyspector (Din calls Reader "Riduur"; I love, love, love Mando fics with lots of Mando'a; so much care is always taken by the writers to translate and weave the words into the story)

Din takes out his frustrations by @ourautumn86

Javier Pena (Narcos)

Burn for Me by @theshireisburning-so-mordoritis (Reader teases Javi; it backfires)

Use me by @toomanystoriessolittletime (Javi is frustrated)

Needy by @wheresarizona (Reader is going to be late for work 🤭)

Reader brings Javi dinner at work by @forthetears

Joel Miller (TLOU)

Bad Girl by @seventeenpins (The first in a hot stepdad!Joel Miller series)

The Boss' Bunny by @talaok (The first in a series about QZ criminal boss Joel and his insatiable bunny)

Help! I'm Stuck! by @nosesitter (Oof! Father-in-law!Joel Miller and his OF daughter-in-law; 2 in the series so far)

Stripped by @thot-of-khonshu (Mr. Miller goes to a strip club)

Stay in Bed series by @psychedelic-ink (Neighbour Joel, pre-outbreak)

A Man Like Him by @valerinaswriting (No one should question Joel's abilities)

Mine by @toomanystoriessolittletime (Reader wears Joel's shirt on accident)

You Are My Cinema by @itgetsdark-x (Camgirl!Reader)

An Afternoon with Your Dad's Best Friend by @elvinaa (I mean, it's in title 🤭; I actually always secretly wish for a sequel to this one)

Come and get your love by @sunflowersteves (Sunshine!Reader)

Francisco "Catfish" Morales (Triple Frontier)

Kinktober 2022 - Erotic Photos by @moralesispunk (Reader gifts Frankie a Polaroid camera)

Thirds by @haylzcyon (Reader visits new boyfriend Frankie at work)

Grass is Greener by @haylzcyon (Frankie mows the lawn)

Kinktober 2022 - Overstimulation by @flightlessangelwings-updates (This was my introduction to pussy eating king Frankie)

Cabin in the woods by @guess-my-next-obsession (The cabin is spooky but Frankie is there to take care of Reader)

Double Feature (and all of the Box Set Universe) by @frannyzooey (Frankie and Reader love movies)

Pero Tovar (The Great Wall)

Little Red's Shadow by @littlemisspascal (Werewolf!Pero 🥹)

In my dreams by @toomanystoriessolittletime (Princess falls for a mercenary)

Tim Rockford (Merge Mansion, all 48 seconds)

A Sight for Sore Eyes and Sir by @ozarkthedog (Semi-public sex)

Anything you say can and will be held against you by @jksprincess10 (Workplace rivals)

An Important Appointment by @boliv-jenta (Sex worker!Reader)

Marcus Moreno (We Can Be Heroes)

A present by @radiowallet (Lingerie prompt; Cat writes some of the best Marcus Moreno fics on here imho. This one is my personal fave)

First Date by @absurdthirst (Workplace FWB)

The Date by @wardenparker (Professor!Marcus but also Marcus on a motorcycle)

Part 2 of list

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softlyspector · 1 year

Note

Soo another Significant idea:

Riddur finds Grogu a new robe and it actually has a little Mudhorn design on it.

And Din loves it so much!

But then he comes back from a solo hunt to find Riddur having stitched the mudhorn into every tunic, every shaw, and in the corner of her favorite blanket.

And she just blushes and shyly says “well I don’t have a ring so I figured this would be the next best thing.”

And Din can’t think, his heart feels like it’s been pulled from his chest and all he can do is bundle his little clan into his arms.

Signet + Din Djarin x gn!reader

a/n: Okay I changed this one up just a little bit but I think it still fits the bill. 😌💕 this is apart of the significant-verse! it can be read on its own, din and reader are married.

"Look ad'ika," you say to the child in his floating pod beside you. "Do you want one?" You ask in Mando'a.

You're paused in front of a market stall. The artisan makes textiles as well as patches that can be sown onto clothes.

She cocks a brow at you as the child coos back. "Right."

You turn back to her and switch back to Basic. "If I sketched a design for you, could you make it for us?"

"Sure, anything." She passes you a datapad and stylus.

You haven't drawn in years, so your recreation of the mudhorn signet is a little sloppy at first. Still, you manage to clean it up, and show the baby for approval before handing it back to the artisan.

She glances between the two of you before looking at your sketch of the mudhorn signet. She doesn't comment on it. "How many would you like?"

"Mm," you hum under your breath before looking back to Grogu. "A couple," you say. "Three." You could sew them to the child's robe, his blanket and yours.

"Sure," she says, already threading cloth into a machine. "Give me an hour or so."

You nod and sweep your arm out, pulling Grogu's pod along beside you. "Your dad will be so proud he won't know what to do with himself," you say to the child, switching back to Mando'a. You've made a point of only speaking in Mando'a to Grogu recently. Din had told you your fluency and accent were improving because of it, but you suspect he'd say that no matter what. "You'll match."

Grogu coos up at you, head tilting to the slide as his ears twitch. "Yes, exactly. He'll love it. We'll stitch the patch on your sleeve and see how long it takes him to notice when he gets back."

The child babbles again as you settle at a table inside the cantina after you order. "Yes, he's going to be a bit angry that we left the ship when he said not to, but I think he worries too much, don't you?"

The sound the child makes is pitched in assent. "Exactly. Y'know I used to travel the galaxy on my own without a bounty hunter at my back. Strange to think of now."

You missed it sometimes, traveling wherever you pleased whenever you had the credits, to take odd jobs and explore until you wanted to move on again. It was exactly how the Mandalorian had found you on Tatooine in the employ of Peli.

"He leaves his kid unattended and then with two strangers," you'd said to Peli when she called you crazy for agreeing to go along with him. "When the Empire is trying to kill hid kid...or something?" You still hadn't been clear then on what exactly the dynamic was. "He needs help. And when will another Mandalorian ever come along and offer me the chance to travel with them?"

It was a once in a lifetime chance. The pull of adventure had been too great, and you had only expected to travel with them for a few months at the most, before skipping out on some other world.

You'd never expected to fall in love with him, for his child to become your own. And you certainly never thought he'd feel anything for you.

The child coos again and you smile, reaching out a hand to rub the tip of one long ear between your fingers. "I'll tell you about it sometime. I think the stories would give Mando a heart attack."

Grogu giggles, and takes the bowl of broth you offer him when its brought to the table.

You stop by the textile maker and exchange some credits for the little patches she'd created for you before trekking back to the ship.

Din still isn't back, though if he had been you would have already received a panicked comm. You lift Grogu out of his pod and set to work stitching the little patch to his sleeve.

He's unusually well behaved, sitting still and watching your hands work carefully until the patch is in place and tied off. "Look at you!" you say, gently running a hand over his head. "You look just like dad."

The child looks happy, big eyes focused on the newly sown patch. "Okay, long day, huh? Dinner and bed."

The horizon is still dark when Din wakes you gently. "Riduur," he threads bare fingers through yours.

"Din," you sit up from where you'd fallen asleep in the pilot's chair. "You're back. Are you okay?"

"Yes," he answers, still holding your hand as you stand. You shake his fingers away and reach up to pluck the helmet off his head.

You don't often do it without warning, or without asking, so Din is already leaning in to kiss you when you laugh and tug him over to the baby's pod. "I want you to see - look -," you gently pull Grogu's sleeve into a better position for him to see the patch, and the the edge of the blanket that you'd sown after the child fell asleep.

Din steps behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder. "You left the ship," he grumbles.

"Ugh," you say. "Don't be like that-,"

His lips press softly into your cheek and his voice is oddly creaky when he says, "Thank you."

You turn in his arms and lean in to kiss him, still smiling. His hair is damp with sweat, his skin glowing in the growing early morning light. Reluctantly, you replace the helm and knock your forehead against his. "Now you match."

Din turns your hands in his and squeezes tightly. Just as you'd predicted, his shoulders are tilted in that prideful way that only came with being reminded of belonging in his little clan.

"And what of you, riduur?" He asks. "Why don't you match us?"

You shrug. "I was only thinking of the child. I stitched one on our blanket too."

Din tilts his head at you but doesn't comment, pressing his forehead softly against yours again before heading down the ladder. You know he wants to use the 'fresher after a hunt.

An idea lodges in your mind, as you get Grogu's breakfast when he wakes.

"Din," you call through the 'fresher door minutes later. "I need to pick something up. I'll be back."

"I will go with you-," he immediately replies, his voice unmodulated through the door.

"No," you say. "I'm leaving the baby here. He's eating. I'll be back."

You pat your child's ears before heading out.

When you sit down in the tattooist's shop, you tell yourself its a good idea. Even if something happened between you and Din it would be a reminder of your time with him, and of your son.

Din is pacing around the hull of the ship when you get back. He pauses and looks at you, Grogu cradled in his elbow.

He relaxes, shoulders loosening, obviously trying to play off his anxiety.

You smile and move toward him, his gaze heavy even from behind the visor. "What did you do, riduur?" He asks.

You roll up your sleeve and offer him your wrist. The tattoo is covered by a clear bandage.

He's silent for a long time, his free hand eventually rising to cup your wrist. His thumb traces the outline of the mudhorn signet permanently etched into your skin. "No mistaking where I belong now."

"No," he agrees.

"Clan Djarin," you say with a smile, wrapping your other hand around his on your wrist. "You never presented me with a ring so-,"

"Mandalorians do not offer rings," he interrupts. "Though I should have presented you with something. A mark of your place."

You repress a smile and tug at the lip of his helm so he has to meet your gaze. "My place is marked now, Din. What are you supposed to give?"

"A weapon, usually."

You tilt your head, your knife was one he'd offered you long ago. "I have a weapon from you."

He shifts from foot to foot. "Yes." He doesn't explain further, his attention on your wrist again where the child has settled his little hand over your skin.

It's a long time before you move from that place, your clan huddled together.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #significant verse

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lincolndjarin · 9 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty one : te mirci't

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 9.0k

summary : reader does a lot of thinking, and a lot of expressing of said thoughts

warnings, etc. : language, angst, canon typical violence, smut smut smut smut, p in v smut, food play sort of kind of, din djarin nearly creams his pants over the concept of domesticity, sort of a dom/sub thing, switch!reader & switch!mando, din has a breeding kink and it's addressed, reader has like zero chill this chapter, dirty talk, men whimpering (hooray!), light bondage, use of handcuffs, unprotected sex

a/n : ik y'all are hype about breeding kink din but i'm gonna real quick say that i will not throw in like a surprise pregnancy in this fic, cause it hasn't been tagged with that thus far and sometimes it irks me when i'm knee deep in a fic and suddenly the reader is pregnant without warning and it wasn’t tagged,, so yeah. it would be different if i advertised this as a pregnancy fic from the get go but i didn't so i'm not gonna spring that on people. (reader could still potentially end up pregnant at the END of the fic (possibly maybe who knows) but there will not be any surprise pregnancy, sorry!) that's it lmao, just wanted to throw that out there.

“It means I love you.”

You aren’t entirely sure how long you stare at him, looking rather silly with your jaw practically on the floor.

How many times has he said it without you even knowing? How long has he loved you? Maker, your mind is racing as you try to recall when the first time he said it would have been.

You’ve already said it to him.

Albeit you didn’t realize what you were saying but you’d said those words to him. And hearing you say them had worked him up so much that he’d fucked you like it was his last night alive.

He doesn’t seem to have much to say now that he’s dropped that bomb on you. You just stare at each other in this blistering silence for an eternity. Until the smell of burning has you shooting out of bed, scrambling towards the oven as you grab the lone oven mit off the counter, removing the smoking baking trays quickly, propping open the single window above the sink and tossing the ruined cakes under the faucet.

“Kriff.” You lean up against the counter, staring at where he’s currently getting up from the bed to join you. Are you a terrible person if you just ignore it? Because currently the last thing you want to do is think about it. “I’m gonna start a new batch, I lost track of time with this one.” You whisper towards him, never actually meeting that thin black line of his helmet.

“You don’t have to say it back.” He whispers back to you, taking a seat at the table.

You know you don’t have to.

Honestly the pressure of having to say it is the least of your worries. The most troubling part of this situation is the question that now plagues you which is, do you love him?

You rinse out the last batch of batter from the bowl before starting a new one.

You’ve always been so hesitant with him. Even from the start. You wouldn’t let yourself think about him, then you wouldn’t let yourself feel for him, care for him, want him. At one point you wouldn’t even let yourself like him.

So to think about if you love him?

The only thing you’ve ever let yourself do is hate him. And you never even really did that.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He leans forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees.

Shit. You’ve been quiet for too long.

“I’m fine, sorry, just… upset about the cakes.” You both know it’s a lie. But neither of you says a thing. He just nods. You work in silence, willing your mind to think of anything else as you scrape the burnt cake tin off into the sink before refilling it with the new batch of batter. As you slide the tin into the oven you turn, unable to face him you turn your gaze elsewhere, to the single shelf in his home.

A few days ago when you were here it was covered in assorted pieces of metal and scrap. Now it’s mostly bare. In a desperate attempt to change the subject you walk over, picking up one of the few remaining scraps.

“What happened to all your stuff? You hold a small metal ball between your fingers as he walks up behind you, resting his head on your shoulder as he leans down. You feel the chill of beskar against your skin.

“I used it all.” He’s still being far too vague about all this and you frown, holding the ball up in front of his face.

“You forgot this piece.” He takes it from you as you say it, you don’t remember him taking his gloves off but they are, his bare hands holding it like it’s a precious gemstone.

“This isn’t a part of my secret project,” He murmurs, rolling the ball between his fingers. “this belonged to the kid.”

You have to remind yourself not to pry, that you promised yourself you’d let him talk about it on his own. His free hand snakes around your waist as he stares longingly at the metal piece, you say nothing, giving him the option to go on if he wants. After a brief moment of pause, he continues.

“I tried to buy him a proper toy. Just once. He used to play with this, I thought maybe he was just bored because we spent so much time on the Crest. On one of my jobs I stopped and got him this little stuffed frog toy.”

You think of the frog he picked up from the lake all those moons ago. A pang of sorrow in your chest.

Every time he talks about the kid it seems like he’s talking more to himself than to you, this time is no different. He adjusts himself, standing up straighter so his chin rests atop your head now. He sways you gently to a song that only he hears.

“He tried to eat the damn thing, I tried to explain that it wasn’t for eating but he didn’t seem to care. Once he realized I wasn’t gonna let him eat it he lost interest, threw it into the fresher and went off to find this again.” He sets the ball back onto the shelf and just holds you for a moment. Just when you’re about to reach down to touch the hand he’s resting on your stomach he speaks again, in a whisper, like he isn’t sure he wants you to hear what he’s saying. “I used to worry that he was bored. Spending so much time on the ship with just me, without any of the things a child usually grows up with.” His grip on your waist tightens. “I thought for the longest time that he’d be happier somewhere else. Now I wonder if maybe he was content with what we had.”

The more you let him talk out his feelings the more you realize that deep down Din is one thing above all.

Someone who doesn’t think he is deserving of love.

You turn around in his grip so you’re facing him and don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist, holding him tight. You might not be ready to tell him you love him but that doesn’t mean you can’t show him that he is cared for. He doesn’t move for a moment but eventually holds you back.

He makes no effort to pull away so you don’t either. Staying like that until you have to get the cakes out of the oven before you burn another batch. He follows you in silence as you set the new batch on the table, he reaches for one and you smack his hand away.

“You’re gonna burn your hand, stop that. And I still need to frost them.”

You turn back to the book for the recipe, happy that the two of you seem to be in mutual agreement to not talk about the current situation. As you start pouring the sugar to make the icing you hear a hiss of air, on instinct you turn to face the noise, not realizing until it’s too late that you shouldn’t.

You should feel regret.

But Maker, how could you.

Your eyes fixed on the way he parts his plush lips to take the chunk of pastry he tore off into his mouth, his finger lingering on his bottom lip and that tongue. Darting out to lick his fingers clean. The way the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. You know you shouldn’t look, he’s got the helmet pulled up just enough that you can see the tip of his nose which means he doesn’t even know you’re looking, there’s metal between his eyes and you. You can’t, this is so bad, shit. You just keep finding reasons to not look away, especially now that he’s smiling. You always thought his smile would be condescending, maybe a triumphant smirk, but it’s so… dorky. He’s got such a dopey grin.

Stars, he’s got a dimple.

Are you still breathing?

And you can finally see the facial hair you’ve only ever felt brush up against you. Surprisingly well kept, with a few small bare patches. You want nothing more than to lean forward and kiss each one of them but you’re quickly reminded of how bad this entire situation is as you hastily turn back around. Stirring the bowl in front of you, acting as if nothing happened. Only a few seconds after you’re facing the counter again do you hear the airlock reseal.

You hear a sharp inhale and a part of you worries he knows you accidentally looked but he hisses again before cursing.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” You can hear him breathing heavily through his mouth into the modulator.

Thank the gods.

“I warned you.” You chastise him, turning around and pouring a generous amount of the cinnamon sugar icing onto each of the cakes while they’re still hot so it absorbs into them. “These need to sit overnight in the conservator.”

“Okay, should I put them in now or when I get back tonight?”

You know what he’s really asking.

He wants to know if he’ll be staying with you or coming home alone.

The answer is obvious to you as you nudge the conservator open with your foot, sliding the tins onto one of the shelves.

“I’ll do this now since you won’t be around to. Should we go?” You slip your shoes back on, watching as a bit of tension leaves his shoulders.

“Sure.”

★

It’s a quiet walk back but it isn’t really uncomfortable. You just want to get him back to your room, where he’ll hopefully help you forget about this whole mess.

You waste no time when you get to your chambers. You drag him to the closet, struggling to remove his armor, carefully setting each piece on the floor while he simultaneously lifts your shirt up over your head. Once you have every piece of beskar removed, you find yourself tumbling to the floor as he practically tackles you into the blankets. Both of you fumble for the lamp until finally you manage to flip the switch and it’s like he can’t get the helmet off fast enough because in what feels like a single second, you’re shrouded in darkness, you hear the the sound of air, a thud onto the ground, and his lips are on yours.

You’re waiting for something more to happen, he’d been so urgent just a moment ago but now that you’re here he’s just kissing you.

Of course you aren’t complaining. Every kiss with him feels like a blessing from the Maker themself. You’re just a little surprised.

You had sort of hoped he had plans to ravage you solely for the purpose of distracting you from the question, still searing your every thought, demanding your attention. But instead he kisses you one last time before laying atop your chest, arms wrapped around you. You think about teasing him but there’s something cathartic about this. His willingness to just be with you without searching for more. So you let him.

And when he inevitably falls asleep, his monstrous snores filling the small space, you’re left alone with your thoughts.

Well, thought.

Do you love him?

Do you want to love him?

Loving him means too much.

You tangle your fingers in his curls, in an attempt to soothe yourself.

Loving him is complicated. It means you’ll have to finally answer the rest of the questions you don’t want to so much as think about.

Kids? Marriage? Kodo? Any sort of future.

Loving him puts him at risk.

He’s always been at risk. His choice to love you meant putting his life on the line. Everyday he wanted to be yours was a day that he could be dragged off by one of your husbands unlimited guard members and killed.

Loving him means understanding that you’re on a clock. A clock to get off of Naboo as quickly as possible, to somewhere far away to hunker down. To hide from the inevitable onslaught of search parties that would come after a missing royal.

They’d send bounty hunters.

Kodo doesn’t even like you, but if you ran off with the man he hired to protect you? He would stop at nothing to get you back. The thought of what he would do to Din when he inevitably found the two of you makes your blood run cold.

But you need to push those thoughts away. Yes, they are important but they shouldn’t impact your feelings. Because at the end of the day you either love him or you don’t.

And you can’t even seem to figure that out.

You’ve never been in love before, you don’t really have a frame of reference.

You’ve certainly never felt for anyone the way you feel for him.

Is that love?

If you weren’t already married would you have said it back?

You aren’t even really a wife at this point.

You’re a prisoner.

You aren’t sure when he woke up but he brings you back to reality with a kiss to your chest.

“You should be asleep, princess.” His voice is gravely, still thick with exhaustion. You run your hands along his vast shoulders in an attempt to soothe him back to sleep.

“So should you.” You whisper into the darkness, he hums softly in response.

It goes quiet again. His arms tighten around you and you know he remains awake, every so often he’ll place a chaste kiss to your breast.

Would it be cruel to bring it up again?

At this point he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest that you didn’t reciprocate the sentiment and you can’t keep fighting these battles alone.

If you love each other, talking about these things is something you would do.

It might be nice. To not be alone with these thoughts for once.

“Din?”

He hums again in response. You feel the scratch of his stubble against your chest as his head turns in your direction.

You should let him sleep. Shut up and not bother him with this.

“What does love mean to you?”

It’s such a corny question but you really are curious.

“What did you say?” For a moment you’re worried you’ve upset him but his tone makes you think he genuinely didn’t hear you.

“What’s it like, to love someone?”

He chuckles softly and a wave of relief washes over you.

“That’s an awfully complicated question, cyare.”

“Okay, then, how did you know?” You purposefully avoid saying the words, “that you loved me.”

“It sort of snuck up on me. It started my first week with you, when being with you started feeling less like a job and more like an honor.”

Does he have to be so good with words? Even in this state, barely awake, he manages to be a goddamn poet.

“Eventually it got to a point where I couldn’t ignore it anymore.” He mumbles his words into your skin.

“When was that?”

“When you gave me a birthday.”

Right before he had ended things.

You don’t have to ask to know now that that's why he did it.

“And that was when you were sure?”

“Yes. That was when I knew I loved you.”

If he’s upset about you not saying it back he doesn’t make it known, he says it so casually.

“What does it feel like?” You run your fingers along the scar on the back of his head.

“It feels like being afraid. There is a certain vein of fear that I had never known prior to meeting the kid, when I los-“ He hesitates. “When he left, I didn’t think I’d ever feel that fear again.” He sighs. “When I met you I learned how to be afraid all over again.”

You sort of understand that feeling.

You felt it when you thought Kodo knew. And you felt it when you imagined Kodo’s reaction to your hypothetical children with Din.

You felt it just moments ago. When you asked yourself if you loved him.

“It’s like all the air leaves the room, replaced with terror. That terror eats away at everything until there’s nothing left.”

All you can think of is the night you found him in the hallway, and you’re certain you’ve never felt that level of fear.

“It’s not all fear though. I assume it’s different for everyone but the fear is only a part of it. For me it mostly feels like devotion and temptation. I know what it is to be devoted, for decades I followed my creed without question, and when I finally did abandon it, it was a matter of life and death, fueled by that fear.”

He sounds half asleep as he says it, like he’s telling himself a bedtime story, and you don’t dare interrupt.

“That’s how I feel about you, except in your case, nothing could make me question my devotion to you, not even a matter of life and death. And as far as temptation goes…” He laughs quietly to himself. “I was unfamiliar with that feeling before you.”

“Temptation?” You whisper to him.

“When will you understand what you are to me, sarad’ika?” He sits up a little, you can’t see him but you feel his nose bump against your jaw as he rests his face in the crook of your neck.

“I know how you feel about me, you tell me quite often.” You’re only half-joking.

“Not how I feel about you, what you are to me. You are so much more than the one I never meant to love, I swear you were created just to tempt me.” You let your hand rest on the nape of his neck as he absentmindedly brushes his lips up against your throat. “If you asked me to remove my helmet, I would.” He murmurs against your throat.

That’s a rather serious claim.

“You could have asked me from the moment I met you. It took time for me to realize I loved you but I have always, been sworn to you.” His fingers trail up and down your torso. “From the moment I first saw you, when you tried to remove my helmet, I promised myself that if you ever tried again, that I wouldn’t stop you.

Maker.

How the fuck do you respond to that?

“We can talk more in the morning. Get some sleep.” He kisses your temple and lays back down against your chest.

He can be annoyingly eloquent when he wants too. You can’t help but wish you were as capable of putting your feelings into words the way he does. Seriously, how are you supposed to top, “When I met you I learned how to be afraid all over again.”

Maybe tomorrow you could try and show him how much he means to you. Since you can’t seem to find the right thing to say, and even if you could he’s already asleep again, snoring at an ungodly volume like he didn’t just profess his profound love to you.

But talking to him helped, from how he describes it, you might just love him too.

★

This morning is much more coordinated than your last.

Din wakes you up before the girls arrive. You have plenty of time to pick out one of the simpler pink gowns in your collection, along with a matching pair of slippers. You leave him there with plenty of time to spare.

The girls don’t question it this time either. Neither of them tries to go into the closet and they waste no time dressing you. Lysa finds you a nice pink nightie from the dresser but you honestly aren’t all that thrilled about it this time around.

It’s getting harder and harder to care about this.

Being dressed up like a doll every day.

Din certainly doesn’t care about what you look like so why even bother at this point? You’re antsy to get back to him and you’re about to hastily thank and dismiss the girls as they finish but Elaine speaks first.

“Princess, would you join me for tea this morning?”

You have no logical reason to refuse and you do enjoy time spent with Elaine.

You just want to be with Din.

But you can’t tell her that.

“Certainly, shall I meet you in the gardens again?”

“I will see you there, my lady.” Both girls give you small bows before leaving. Only a few seconds after they’re gone the closet door opens and there stands your Mandalorian. He makes his way to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

“Shall I escort you to the gardens, my lady?” He leans down a bit so your eyes are level with the line of his visor.

“Lead the way.”

It’s a short walk and you’re once again surprised by how quickly Elaine has set things up, a table and chairs wait for you in the gazebo.

“Do you think you could find something to do for a few minutes on your own?” You say quietly enough that you know only he can hear it as you approach.

He doesn’t respond but as you step into the gazebo he doesn’t follow you in, once you’re seated he walks off into the garden.

“Seems like things are better between the two of you?” She pours you a cup, making it the way you like it before handing you the saucer.

“Much better.” You smile as you take a sip.

“May I speak freely ma’am?” She sets her cup down and crosses her arms, staring at you. Her tone has gotten so serious so suddenly you’re a bit stunned.

“Of course.”

“Lysa and I stopped coming to help you undress in the evenings many moons ago, we stopped waiting for you to summon us.”

What a strange thing to say.

“Okay?” Is all you can manage, still unsure as to what she could possibly mean by that statement.

“Well, my lady, we just assumed you didn’t need the help anymore…” She stares at you expectantly but you’re still giving her a confused look. “You know…” Her eyebrows are raised but you just shake your head slowly, giving her a blank stare. “With getting undressed.”

Oh.

Not much you can really say about that, she’s right, and you hadn’t even noticed because someone else was undressing you. Still, she can’t expect you to outright admit that.

“I don’t need you to say a word, my lady, I just needed to talk to you, to warn you.” Something about her tone makes you shiver, even out here in the sun.

“About?”

“You’ve been reckless, princess.” You set your cup down.

“Spit it out Elaine, you’re making me nervous.” You laugh anxiously but her expression remains stern.

“Kodo won’t take your absence from dinner lightly. And you’ve been too blatant about your friendship with the Mandalorian. You should act with more caution.”

Well, you had wanted her to be blunt, you can’t be too shocked about that.

“He is not a man who takes kindly to disrespect. He will retaliate if you aren’t careful, that’s all.” You nod as she takes a sip of her tea.

That’s all she says on the subject, quickly moving on to another topic.

Her warning was genuine and you’re thankful for it but you push it from your mind. You will right this wrong and attend dinner with Kodo this week.

★

Tea is short after that.

You aren’t in the mood for small talk anymore, you just want to spend the rest of the day with Din.

You whisper a genuine thanks to her before she departs, and you rush over to where he stands in the flowers.

“Cabin?” He asks. Thankfully he doesn’t risk holding your hand in broad daylight but he lets his knuckles brush against yours.

“Cabin.” You follow him towards the pond and once you’re close enough he scoops you up into his arms to keep you out of the water. “Din! What if someone sees?” You whisper yell at him, eyes scanning the vacant gardens.

“This isn’t any less damning than you walking in on your own. Besides, no one’s around, promise.” He pushes open the door before setting you down, locking up behind the two of you. “I’ve lived here for long enough to know that nobody comes out this far except us. Now, what do you want for the rest of the day?” He kicks off his boots and you set your slippers next to them.

It’s past noon at this point, you have nothing planned.

“Do you want to just stay here? I think today I just want to stay here.” You walk over to the bed, lifting your skirt and taking a seat.

“Works for me, I’m going to get some chores done if you don’t mind.” He removes his gloves, tossing them on the table before kneeling beside the dresser.

“I don’t mind at all.” You scoot back a bit to rest against the wall, you’re actually quite curious to see what he’ll do, and you need time to think of how you’re going to show him how much he means to you.

You watch as he takes out different weapons and tech that you don’t recognize. He tosses his gloves to the side and starts methodically cleaning every item.

You’re sort of hypnotized by his attention to detail, it lets you think.

What does he like?

Green, you, the kid, classic ships.

None of those things can really show him how much he means to you though.

He’s setting different things aside as he finishes any maintenance required, every so often he looks up at you before returning to his work. You feel a little useless just sitting here so you get up to take the cakes out of the conservator.

Suddenly you have his attention.

You don’t dare say a word, letting him just observe in peace. He drops whatever he’s working on, you don’t look but you can feel his visor trained on you.

You take the tins out, setting them on the table before finding a dull knife. Each cake is small enough that you can fit your hands around each tin if you hold your fingers in the shape of a circle. You carve each cake out of its tin and he watches you intently the entire time, you can see him in your peripherals.

So he likes… watching you do a shitty job at taking cakes out of tins?

It’s crass but you go through the list of things that have worked him up before. Things you’ve said to get him to give you what you want during sex.

Two instances come to mind.

The time you unknowingly said I love you.

And then last night, when you told him he could finish inside you.

And now? Your head tilts up just in time to watch him adjust himself in his trousers before sheepishly tuning back to his work when you catch him watching you. It takes a second but eventually things start to click.

He likes watching you look at home in his cabin. He likes the intimate feeling of a simple life. Watching you bake, saying I love you, having kids.

Things a normal couple might do.

He tosses something up onto the bed, you stare at it for a moment as he starts putting other things back into the dresser.

Handcuffs.

Thick, padded, and metal.

You know he intends on using them on you but you act fast, hurrying over to him, taking his hand.

“What are you doing mesh’la?” He chuckles as you sit him down on the bed.

This is gonna be a shot in the dark, but if you’re confident enough, (and right) it’ll be worth it.

“Just, let me take care of you.”

“You already take care of me.” He insists, starting to get up but you firmly plant your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down. Your plan is rapidly forming in your mind.

“I mean it, now stay put.” He sighs loudly but nods, tilting his head to the side in confusion. No sense in being coy, might as well be clear with your intentions to see if he’s actually into it. “Don’t be a baby, I know you get off on this kind of thing.” The moment you say it he scoffs but you’re already across the room, taking one of the little cakes and putting it onto a plate.

“Excuse me?” “His voice is already terribly defensive but you just laugh it off.

“You’re not the only one who can make observations. You think I didn’t notice the way your tone switched when I offered to bake for you?” He starts to argue but you cut him off. “And I’m definitely not going to ignore how quickly you came when I told you you could finish inside of me.” That surprisingly shuts him up. This might actually be the only time you’ve caught him so off guard that he doesn’t have a response.

You bring the plate over to the bed, setting it on his nightstand.

“You like domesticity.” You lean in to whisper to him. “You want me to take care of you, don’t you Mr. Tough Mandalorian?” You can’t gauge his reaction because of the helmet but you can gauge the tent in his pants perfectly fine.

“Djarin.” He certainly doesn’t sound stern now.

“Djarin?”

“Din Djarin.” You hadn’t even realized until just now that you didn’t know his last name.

You straddle one of his thighs, spreading his legs with your knees.

“Well then, let me take care of you, Din Djarin.” You like the way his name feels in your mouth and based on the way his cock twitches against your leg you’d reckon he does too.

He’s always been so open with you and you’ve always kept him at a distance.

Right here right now, if you weren’t dealing with the worst possible circumstances (your husband), you know that you’d tell him you love him, that you ache for him, that you know fear because of him. You know you love him. And you’re pretty sure he knows it too.

You just aren’t ready to say it.

So you’ll have to show it. (And maybe say a few things that you are ready to say.)

You love each other, at the end of the day you can’t keep censoring yourself when you think about him, he doesn’t deserve that.

You want to show him what he deserves.

You reach behind him and grab the cuffs. As you do his hands wrap around you to tug at your corset strings, an act that he’s getting rather good at.

“You gonna put those on for me, mesh’la?” He drawls. Once he’s loosened your corset enough so that you’ll be able slip out of it you lean back again.

“No.” You grin at him and he immediately shakes his head.

“Absolutely not.” He says the moment you start smiling.

“You’re always in charge, just let me be in charge, I’m doing this for you.” You grab one of his wrists but he easily pulls it away.

“You were in charge last time.”

True, but irrelevant.

“Do you love me?” You stick your bottom lip out a little.

“You’re terrible.”

“I know.” But it works, because when you grab his wrist again he doesn’t pull away.

“You know I can get out of these right? Very easily.” He says, watching you close the first cuff around his wrist, removing the belt around his torso and the one around his waist.

“I know that too, but you love me, so you’re going to leave them on until I take them off.

“This feels less like you’re taking care of me and more like I’m your prisoner.” He mumbles.

“Oh hush, you’d be happy either way.” Once again he seems at a loss for words as you cuff his other wrist, he sets his hands in his lap. You smooth out the fabric of his cowl before carefully removing it, folding it and walking it over to the table and setting it down. “I’ll make you a deal.” You say, turning back to face him. “If you don’t like it then I will stop and we can do this your way. But if you don’t then I will assume I was right, and you do want me to take care of you.” You straddle his thigh again and play with one of the releases on his chest plate.

“You’re being purposefully vague. What does taking care of me entail?” The impatience on his voice trails off as you start releasing his chestplate, finding the little locks, undoing them one by one.

“Well… I just think that you like certain things, and I think you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“What things?”

You click the last release and remove his chest plate, walking over to the dresser to set it down carefully before returning.

“You like that I baked for you.” You remove his gauntlets, setting them on his nightstand.

“Who wouldn’t like that?” You swear you almost hear him stutter.

“Oh but I think you really like it. Because you know I did it just for you.” You remove his pauldrons and kneel between his legs to remove the pieces of armor on his thighs. “You like when I hold you, you like seeing me here, in your home, in your bed.” You slide his remaining armor down his legs, setting them aside before standing again and spreading his thighs with your knees to slot yourself between them, your hands grip the edges of his helmet.

“Can I?” You whisper.

After a moment's hesitation he nods.

Your fingers snap the airlocks and you gently lift.

Before closing your eyes you allow yourself one peek.

You’re graced with a bashful smile, and you know that it’s okay, so you squeeze your eyes shut and completely remove the helmet, setting it on the bed beside him. Almost as if on instinct he leans forward and you feel his lips on yours as you gently push him back.

“Let me do it, Din.” You laugh softly. “You don’t have to do everything.” You lean forward this time, hands on either side of his face, running your tongue over that bottom lip you wish you could see. “I’m going to take my dress off.” You mumble into his mouth before pulling back, you turn around and quickly slide your gown down your body, you grab the plate on his bedside table before closing your eyes and turning back around. His restrained hands play with the front of your nightie.

“What are you-” His unfiltered voice is like warm honey, deep and raw, but you silence it by putting two fingers from your freehand to where you assume his mouth is. He starts to speak again so you gingerly slide your thumb between his lips and you hear any more questions he might have flicker out.

“Can you go more than five minutes without asking me a question?” The moment you say it his lips purse like he’s going to ask again, you place your thumb over his tongue. Once you’re certain he isn’t going to interrupt your actions again you remove your hand from his face and tear a chunk of the cake off of the plate. “Open.” You laugh softly as you bring your hand towards his mouth, he immediately starts to protest again but you take the opportunity to stuff the pastry into his mouth, you get lucky and actually manage to get it in on the first try.

If you’re being honest, you aren’t completely sure if this is going to work. You’re still acting on a hunch. A very presumptuous hunch, that deep down he wants nothing more than a quiet, soft life.

A home.

Unless of course you’re wrong. In that case you’re going to be rather embarrassed. Which is starting to be a worry as you realize he isn’t moving, two of your fingers just barely past his lips, he still hasn’t moved and you fell you nerves starting to get the best of you, just as you’re about to withdrawal and apologize for the entire silly affair, his lips close around your fingers. You can’t help but gasp at the feeling, accidentally taking a step back in surprise.

His fingers immediately grasp at what fabric they can on your undergarments, trying to pull you closer again. You’re about to say something smug, along the lines of “I told you so.” But you’re stopped dead in your tracks.

Because Maker, he whimpers.

You let him tug you back between his legs. The cold metal of the cuffs brushes against your thighs.

You reach down and tear off another chunk of the cake, his bound hands guide you back to his mouth, which you're shocked to find is still open as you gently feed him. This time you don't flinch back, his lips close around your fingers and his tongue licks them clean.

This is the temptation he spoke of.

You respect his creed. You’ve sort of taken your own creed, a vow to yourself not to look. But right now it takes all of your restraint to not look. Nothing could possibly make you happier than knowing what he must look like right now, lips wrapped around your fingers, trying to pull you closer.

But just like him, you resist those temptations, finally pulling your hand away.

“I told you I’d take care of you.” You whisper, a slight teasing edge to your voice.

“You’re a strange woman, sarad’ika.” He whispers back.

“So you don’t like this?” You tear off a piece for yourself, popping it into your mouth, feeling the icing coat your tongue. You bask in his silence before picking up the remaining pastry, gently feeding him, tossing the plate blindly onto the bed.

The only answer you need to your question is the way his tongue drags across your palm when he’s finished, you waste no time after that to push him down into the mattress. Letting your lips find his.

His mouth tastes just like it did the first time you kissed.

Vanilla.

His arms go over your head, trapping you in his embrace.

“Tell me I was right.” You pull back from him, grinning.

“I wouldn’t exactly go so far as to say that you were right.” His mouth latches to your chin, peppering a trail of kisses back up to your lips but you pull further back, as far as his arms will let you, eyes still shut.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that right? Because about thirty seconds ago you were quite literally eating out of the palm of my hand.” He continues trying to kiss you to silence you but you keep turning your head to the side, he settles on your jaw eventually.

“That doesn’t prove anything, I’ve barely eaten anything today, maybe I was just hungry.” He mumbles against your skin.

“Mhmm, sure. Are you sure you don’t like playing house? I think you like imagining me as Mrs. Djarin.”

Whoops. Where the hell did that come from?

“Don’t say that.” His voice isn’t playful anymore as he sits up, keeping you in his lap.

“Kriff, I’m sorry Din, that was too fa-” You hear a metal thud behind you on the floor and his hands are no longer cuffed, they hold your waist now.

“If you don’t mean it, don't joke about that.” His breath is hot on your face and his grip on you tightens.

If you don’t mean it.

So you were right.

Your mind screams at you to be rational. You have a husband, there are a million reasons to apologize and to move on from this.

Stop using the husband that was forced upon you as an excuse.

You can’t keep holding back when it comes to Din. It isn’t fair to him. Not when he gives you everything.

“If I do mean it, can I joke about it?” Your voice is the quietest it’s been all day.

He takes your hands and brings them up to his face, so you can feel him nod.

“I’ll keep joking about it if you tell me I’m right. I’ll joke all night long.” You laugh a little as he brings one of your hands to his mouth so he can kiss your wrist.

“You’re right.”

You can’t help yourself.

“About?”

“I like this.” He drags his lips down your arm before dropping it. “I like when you take care of me.”

“Turn the lights off.” He doesn’t hesitate once you say it, the curtains are all already closed

Once the lights are off he flips you onto your back, you hear everything on the bed clatter to the floor as he tosses it aside.

His bed is lower than yours so his hands grab you by your hips, lifting your bottom half into the air a little, making you squeak in surprise.

“Tell me another joke.” He says under his breath as he spreads your legs so he can grind his still clothed erection against you.

“I thought you were going to let me take care of you?” You scoff at him, hearing his zipper.

“I am,” You gasp as he drops you back down onto the mattress, climbing on top of you. “I’m letting you tell me jokes.” You can practically hear his grin as he guides the blunt head of his cock into your folds. Lazily rubbing it against your clit and leaning down to whisper to you. “You started this with all your talk, is that all it was? Talk? I thought you said you meant it?”

You’re trying to remember how he got the upperhand so quickly but it’s hard to concentrate when he keeps nudging himself against your most sensitive spot.

Everything always happens so fast with him, just once you’d like to turn things around on him and have it work.

“I-I meant it.” Is all you really manage to get out, he brings his cock down a bit to tease your entrance, never actually pushing in. His voice has that condescending tone to it that tells you he’s willing to play this game for a while and you hadn’t really factored in just how aroused you’d get during your display a few minutes ago. You’re soaked and there’s a good chance he’s going to draw this out in retaliation. He swipes his tip back up to your clit, the both of you hiss in unison.

You still have one ace up your sleeve as you recall your conversation from last night.

“So you liked one of my offers?”

“I might have been interested in one of them”

One thing you know he wants.

“Come on, sarad’ika. Where are your jokes?” He chuckles against your skin as he kisses your shoulder.

“I was just trying to think of a baking joke. Can you give me a second?” You gasp out as his free hand reaches underneath you to squeeze your ass before coming up to rest on your hip.

“I know you can do better than a baking joke.” You can feel him grin against you now, his teeth lightly graze your shoulder.

“It’s a shame, you would have liked it.” He goes back to teasing your entrance, pressing himself into you just enough to make you squirm but not enough to actually be inside you. You try to shift your hips downwards but his hand keeps you pinned in place.

“I liked your jokes about Mrs. Djarin.”

It’s now or never.

“Well you liked my cooking as well, so I thought I’d make a joke about a bun in the oven, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Filling me u-”

His hips buck forward and his grip on you tightens to the point of a sharp pain. To seemingly both of your surprises, in an instant he’s buried nearly to the hilt in your heat.

“Maker, Din!” You’re gonna have a brand new set of bruises tomorrow.

“Sorry! I, fuck- sorry.” He’s grunting in your ear, not bothering with your shoulder anymore, burying his face into the pillow next to your head.

“Dank farrik, Din…” You’re reeling from the sudden motion, your head tilted back into the mattress. You need to catch your breath but the muffled groans coming from him distract you. The sting from the sudden stretch you're experiencing is quickly fading and you bring your hands up to his head, one resting in his hair and the other at the nape of his neck.

He wanted to make this a game so you’re going to play, and you’re going to win.

You’re still panting a little as you turn your head to the side so you can whisper into his ear.

“Stars Din, it’s that easy to get you worked up, huh?” His breathing is starting to level out, his grip on you lightens up. “I thought I was easy to rile up but look at you, all this just at the thought of a bun in the oven.”

He isn’t making noise anymore, he’s still against you, listening intently as you run a soothing hand down his spine and back up again.

“I can’t imagine what you’re going to be like when you actually get me pregnant.”

You’re surprised by your own words, like your brain is on auto-pilot and you can’t filter yourself but he fucking whines so you don’t care in the slightest. High pitched and needy, muffled by the pillow. His hips start slowly rocking into you and you bite back your moan, wanting to maintain your advantage.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling his head out of the pillow, savoring the whimper that comes from his as you do.

“Oh come on, you can’t even handle the thought of it?” You breathe out the words and his head falls downwards as you release him, he bites your shoulder. “What does it for you?” He unclenches his jaw, starting to bury his face back into the pillow but you pull him back up again.

“Is it just the idea of finishing in me?”

He doesn’t answer, to be fair you’re barely holding it together either at this point.

“Or do you just want everyone to know I’m yours? Want everyone to see that you knocked me up?”

You get your answer with that because he’s trying to bury his face back into the pillow. A low wail leaves his lips as he frantically ruts into you. How quickly everything’s escalated has you hurtling towards your climax and you can tell by the desperate whine that leaves his lips as he presses them into your collar bone that he won’t be far behind.

“I know you can do better than that, Din.” You mock his tone from earlier but he’s unfazed, pounding into you until finally you can’t tease him anymore because he’s reduced you to gasps and moans.

It doesn’t take long after that.

One after the other.

You first, when his hand travels downwards, it takes only a few precise circles rubbed into your clit and your grip tightens in his hair, your walls flutter around him.

Just like that he’s going over the edge with you.

He pulls out, finishing on your stomach.

You shouldn’t feel upset but there's the tiniest bit of disappointment as you feel his cum against your skin.

He collapses onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“I love you.” He presses a kiss into your hair.

“I know.”

★

You sit in the quiet dark for a long while, until finally, you have to ask.

“Do you actually want kids someday?” Your voice breaks the silence of the pitch-black room. “Little Djarin’s running around?”

He rolls over so he’s hovering above you now.

“Are you trying to start round two?” He chuckles, resting his forehead against yours, your nose bumps against his. “I’ll need a few more minutes before I can go again, sarad, but I can keep you occupied until then.” He kisses you quickly, already starting to move his mouth south but you stop him.

It’s so effortless right now. To be happy with him, in the darkness, pushing away thoughts of royal responsibilities. Letting yourself be with just Din, even if it’s brief.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” You ask.

“Yes. Someday.” He kisses your sternum, laying down on your chest.

“With me?”

“No, with Elaine.” You smack the back of his head when he says it, he laughs against your skin. “Yes, with you.”

You let him lay on top of you as you nod to yourself.

“Is it weird that everytime we have sex it turns into a competition?” He starts to laugh once more as you say it.

“It’s weird that you keep losing.”

You smack him again.

★

Your peaceful break from reality is brief, as always, as you sit up.

“We have to go. I can’t be out all night.” The last thing you want to do is return to your room right now, you want to stay here, the cabin feels more like home than any room in the castle ever has.

He seems as unhappy with this as you are. The two of you dress in silence once he flicks the lamp back on, you turn around until you hear him reattach his helmet.

You hold his hand on the walk back. You don’t have much to say right now, you’re certain at this point that you’ve made it clear that you love him.

That you just aren’t ready to say it.

And he doesn’t seem to mind.

You’re ready to just sleep. Your blanket nest seems more and more inviting the closer you get to the castle.

The two of you sneak in through the back entrance and as always the castle is quiet at night. You keep your hand in his as you make your way up the steps.

It isn’t until you get to the hallway where your chambers are located that you hear it.

A persistent banging sound and someone yelling incomprehensibly.

Din immediately drops your hand.

Neither of you speaks as you walk but he shifts himself so he’s walking ahead of you, as you get closer you recognize the distinct, nasally voice.

In the dim light of the hall you see Kodo, banging on your bedroom door.

“Wife, come now, you can’t ignore me, I’m your husband.” He hisses, you can smell the alcohol on him from here.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Kodo, are you okay?” You plaster on a faux look of concern as you approach, Din tries to put his hand up to stop you but you ignore it.

He turns to stare at you, his clothes are askew and he isn’t even wearing his crown.

“Wife! Where have you been?” He slurs, leaning in for a kiss that you sidestep, he doesn’t seem bothered by your rejection.

“I went on a walk.” You answer quickly and he takes hold of your waist, you try not to look too repulsed.

“You skipped dinner yesterday, dear wife.” He teeters a bit, leaning towards you as you again try to avoid his kiss but this time he holds you firmly in place, it’s sloppy and you have to wipe a bit of spit from your face after.

“I did, I wasn’t feeling well.” Your voice is getting smaller and smaller as you feel fear bubbling in your chest.

“Where are your guards?” There’s no respect in Din’s voice, no “your highness” or “your grace.” No one speaks to Kodo that way, not even you, but he’s too drunk to even notice.

“I dismissed them, as is customary when one is visiting his bride’s chambers.” Kodo lurches forward, his hands sloppily grope the fabric of your skirt and you make an audible groan of discomfort.

“We should get you back to your own chambers, come now dear husband.” You try to sound patient, you know he’s capable of violence and you don’t want to push him in this state.

“Why would we do that, wife? Come now, tonight I shall join you in bed. I missed you last night.” He hisses the words and you know he didn’t miss you in the slightest, this is a punishment.

This is what you get for disobeying.

For skipping your dinner with him.

This is the inevitable thing that has made you unable to tell Din you love him. This looming promise of Kodo.

There’s nothing you could possibly do right now to escape the fate before you. The fear you feel right now is certainly not the fear of love that Din described to you.

But that quickly changes.

You don’t get a chance to react as Din takes a step between you and Kodo, he doesn’t even wind up, he just drives his fist forward and you hear the sickening crunch of your husband's nose just before he slumps to the floor.

As you stare at Din, you know your fear has changed. His shoulders heaving, his rage fills the corridor as you listen to his ragged breaths through the modulator. He turns around to face you, but you just stare at his hand, where the evidence of this potentially deadly mistake is dripping down his fingertips. You have never been more terrified for another person's life the way you are right now for Din.

You’re mesmerized by the little speckles of your husband's blood, a stark contrast to the yellow fingertips of his gloves.

And suddenly it feels like all the air leaves the corridor as you finally look into his visor, you don’t see Din though, all you see is what they’re going to do to him for this.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut

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annoyinglandmagazine · 6 months

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I love the idea of Finweans being transported into Years of the Trees Valinor as much as the next person but you know what I think could be just hilarious for a crack concept? A Sinda being transported into Years of The Trees Valinor. Think Beleg, Mablung, Daeron or maybe even Thingol himself (preferably with no one knowing who they are) getting out of Mandos and into Valinor but they don’t realise immediately that this isn’t current Valinor.

Thingol sees Maglor Feanorian in the marketplace which is a shock already because why would he get out before him but he doesn’t even have the decency to offer apologies when he sees them, how dare he in fact wait a minute he’s waving at him? What’s going on here why is he being friendly, he shouldn’t be able to be that friendly after killing so many people? Does he feel no guilt?

Mostly though for Thingol’s world to get absolutely shattered at meeting Maitimo Nelyafinwe, who yes technically is Maedhros Feanorian but how?! He doesn’t recognise Thingol of course so when he notices he seems a bit shaken by something he’s all polite and considerate and guides him to a bench before clapping him on the shoulder reassuringly and fetching him some tea. With the two hands he now has somehow.

And he sits with him and tries to find out if he’s alright but Thingol’s too confused to run like his life depends on it (and since this is the infamous Lord of Himring it might) because what is he even wearing? That’s practically a gown, not one he’d want to see Luthien in either, he’s not even wearing armour or carrying a blade? And he’s still smiling and it doesn’t look even slightly forced and his hair is actually long, not normal long either it’s down to his thighs for goodness sake.

All hope of sanity disappears when someone who looks no older than 20, comes up to them and starts tugging on Maedhros’ sleeve impatiently, ‘Nelyo, Nelyo, I can’t reach the tools I need for a project.’ Why in all of Arda would a child be approaching Maedhros Feanorian for anything? Why would they not be running in terror and avoiding him at all costs?

Maedhros shot him a conspiratorial glance as if he’d enjoy being in on some joke with a kinslayer ‘That’s most likely a sign you shouldn’t be using them Curufinwë,’ Curufinwë as in Curufin, possibly worse than even Maedhros himself. Of course it was.

‘But Nelyo.’

He smiled apologetically and asked him if he was feeling well enough now. He assured him he was mostly to get him out of his sight long enough to process the interaction and Maedhros Feanorian beamed at him, ‘Alright then, just feel free to come to me if you need anything, I’m always happy to help and Uncle Ara is very good at giving advice if something’s bothering you if you’d prefer.’

Then he stood, making Thingol concerned enough about the loose swathes of material to look away as a precautionary measure (was this a seduction attempt? He’d never heard of the Lord of Himring employing such dishonourable tactics but did he really know anything anymore?) and swept the child who could not be Curufin into his arms spinning him around above his head until he was in fits of giggles, ‘Now how about we ask Ammë about your project and if she says no I can take you somewhere instead? There’s an exhibition on in the city you might like? Sound good to you?’

The person who has to have just stolen the face of the eldest son of Feanor walked off with the elfling balanced easily against his hip and chatting away. This must be a weird fever dream.

#silmarillion #tolkien #maedhros #thingol #valinor #time travel #curufin #maglor #mablung #beleg

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beskarandblasters · 4 months

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“Din”scord Kitten

Discord Kitten!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: I don’t fucking know anymore okay 😭 The Discord Kitten!Din edit is by @pedgito!! Shout out to my boyfriend for taking a mirror selfie in the Mando helmet for this 💀

Summary: When bounty hunting doesn’t work out anymore Din has to turn to alternative methods to support himself.

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, this is a crack fic lmao, Discord/Venmo/Dr. Pepper existing in Star Wars, bad sexting, dick pics, masturbating, bad Star Wars puns, sex work, cummies needs its own warning 😭, pet names (cyar’ika), oral sex (M receiving), cum eating, no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

“I’m sorry, Mando. I’m fresh out of jobs today.”

Kriff, that’s the third day in a row that there’s been absolutely no jobs, no bounties to go after, nothing.

How is he supposed to repair the Razor Crest’s engine? How is he supposed to fix the broken pipe in the refresher? How is he supposed to feed himself?

“Thanks anyway, I guess,” Din mumbles. He sighs. It’s not really Karga’s fault that things are slow lately. He must be suffering, too.

Din wracks his brain, trying to think of different ways to earn credits. But his mind is blank.

He could get a job…? But then he shoots that idea down pretty quickly. How funny would it be if he just walked into a place of business and asked for a job, all decked out in beskar? He can’t make or sell anything. He doesn’t have any skills. His skill is bounty hunting and that’s about it.

Just as he’s about to exit through the cantina door, he hears a voice whisper, “Hey, Mando.”

He looks to his right and sees a man, one he’s never seen around here before. The man motions for Din to come closer. He’s skeptical but Din knows when and where to keep his guard up so he follows.

The man is shorter than Din, with shifty eyes and greasy hair matted down on his forehead. Before Din can ask what he wants the man speaks first.

“I heard about your little problem just now.”

“It’s none of your business,” Din says, starting to turn and walk away.

“What if I had a solution for you?” he says, stopping Din in his tracks.

“What is it?”

“You ever heard of Discord?”

“…No.”

“Do you have a data-pad?”

“…Yeah.”

“Download the app Discord.”

“What is it?”

“Like a chat room. Trust me, there are so many lonely housewives who have too many credits lyin’ around. You chat them up, maybe show em a little something something, minus the face of course. And you’re golden. Just make sure you download Venmo so they can wire you the credits.”

It sounds nefarious, taking advantage of lonely, vulnerable people. But he needs to earn some credits. Or else he’ll never take a bounty again, never use the refresher again, and never eat again. Not dramatic at all.

“Okay… Thanks,” he says awkwardly, slowly inching his way out of the cantina. He power walks to the Razor Crest, anxious to boot up his data pad and download this Discord thingy. He’s not the best with social interactions to begin with but surely being behind a screen will help… right?

As soon as he’s settled in his bunk he pulls out his data-pad, searching up Discord and Venmo and downloading them both. Once he opens Discord, he’s prompted to pick out a username and password. And he spends a bit too long deciding what his username will be. But ultimately he goes with BountyMan1 because BountyMan just had to be taken already. For a password, he chooses… password. Not much thought was put into that one.

Ah kriff, he needs to choose an icon. There’s no way someone will want to chat up a blank circle. For this one, he’s going to need the mirror in the refresher. He holds up his data pad in the mirror, taking an extremely blurry photo. He looks at it and decides it’ll do before retreating to his bunk again.

And now… it’s time to flirt with some lonely women. He has his location service activated so the profiles he’s seeing are from people on Nevarro, some of the people he recognizes and knows. Who would’ve thought?

But to be safe, he chooses a different planet instead. He doesn’t need anyone recognizing him in the streets as that weirdo on Discord. So he sets his location as Tatooine just to be safe.

He decides to slide into the direct messages of three profiles to start, to get some practice in. He messages the users; TatooineBaby, SoMuchSand47, and JabbaTheSlut. Each of their icons is just a picture of them on Tatooine. JabbaTheSlut’s icon is a little risqué, showing a bit of cleavage. He tries to ignore the way his cock twitches in his flight suit.

He types out a simple “Hey ;)” and waits for a response. To his delight, JabbaTheSlut responds first, saying; “Hey there handsome,” which Din finds extremely funny given that she can’t see his face. Not even just because of the helmet, but also the blurry as shit photo he used.

SoMuchSand47 blocks him and his ego is bruised a bit. But he reassures himself that there will be a few losses in this line of business. TatooineBaby responds with a simple “Hello!”

It’s a small victory but he’ll take it. He got two out of three women to respond to him. And now he’s about to enter the next phase; chatting them up.

“Thanks, sexy,” he responds to JabbaTheSlut, internally cringing at himself a bit.

As JabbaTheSlut is typing, he responds to TatooineBaby, taking a different approach this time.

“How are you doing, beautiful?” he types, feeling a little less cringe about this interaction.

Soon enough, he’s engaged in conversations with them both. And he already finds it overwhelming to maintain two at the same time. Maker, how is he going to handle any more?

The conversations are fine, nothing too abnormal. JabbaTheSlut is more flirty than Tatooine Baby is. He thinks it’ll probably be easier to squeeze credits out of her than the other one. And that’s when JabbaTheSlut takes the conversation to a sexual turn.

“You packing? ;),” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Care to show me?”

“Not for free. How much would you pay for a dick pic from a Mandalorian?

Kriff, what if she ends it here? What if she tells him to piss off and then blocks him?

“Fifty credits. What’s your Venmo?”

He can’t believe his eyes. Kriff, he needs to set up his Venmo. He still hasn’t done that. He closes out of Discord to open Venmo, hastily making an account with the same username as Discord. He links his Venmo to his account at the InterGalactic Banking Clan. Cool, that’s all set now. He messages JabbaTheSlut back with his Venmo handle and now it’s time for the… dick pic.

He’s never done this before. Of course, he hasn’t. He barely knew how to work the holo-pad when he first bought it and honestly, he still doesn’t completely understand how to use it now. He pulls out his cock, stroking it enough just to get it hard but it’s not working. He’s feeling the pressure. He has to think about something else, something to get him hot and bothered. His mind immediately goes to this hot woman he saw at a cantina on Naboo once. She had long green hair and beautiful eyes. And when she spoke with Din at the bar she placed a hand on his bicep– he thought he was going to melt right there and then.

Okay, this is working now. He’s getting hard. Alright, time to take the picture. He grabs his cock and strokes towards the base, pulling his foreskin down. He can’t decide whether or not to take a picture with the flash on or off so he does one of each. But ultimately he decides to send her the one with flash.

He checks his Venmo and sees she sent him the fifty credits. He can’t believe someone actually paid for this. He sends her the picture and anxiously awaits her response.

“Damn. It’s big. Not that I expected any less from a Mandalorian ;),” she says.

Alright, this was enough activity for him for one evening. He needs to rest and try not to feel shame about what he just did. He checks on the conversation with TatooineBaby and she never responded. Oh well, a win is a win. Maybe he won’t be so bad at this after all.

When he wakes up the next morning, there’s a slew of messages. There are some from JabbaTheSlut but there are also some messages from new people entirely. He has messages from JediPussyTrick, BeMyNaboo, SorganSlut69, and WhoreForMandalore. They’re from planets all over the galaxy. He must’ve changed his location range by accident.

All of the messages are various generis horny messages, except for one. There’s one from WhoreForMandalore that’s not sexual in nature but rather curious instead. He looks at their icon, a beautiful woman. He swears the background of the picture is Nevarro but it’s hard to tell from how small it is.

“Are you a real Mandalorian?” WhoreForMandalore’s message says… your message says.

He chooses to respond to you first.

“I am.”

“Hot.”

“Nice username.”

“Thanks! Bit of an inside joke between me and my friends.”

“What kind of joke?”

“You could say I have a fetish for them I guess.”

“Oh??”

“Mask kink goes hard.”

“I see…” he replies. He doesn’t really know what to say next but he’s intrigued by you. In the meantime, he checks out his other messages. JabbaTheSlut is asking about pricing for other stuff this time… videos of him masturbating. He supposes he could, but he’ll have to charge more.

“A hundred credits,” he types.

“You got yourself a deal baby,” she responds. And within an instant, there’s a notification from his Venmo, one hundred credits. Alright, it's time to do the deed. It’s hard to get hard on demand but he’ll have to get used to it if this is the life he wants to live.

His mind wanders, going back and forth about what to think of to get himself hard. His mind settles on you and your Discord icon. He can’t quite put his finger on why. Your picture wasn’t a sexual one, just a normal photo of you smiling with the sun beaming down on you. But then he thinks about what you said… mask kink.

Kriff, that gets him hard. He’s stroking himself mindlessly before realizing he has to film this, hastily opening his camera and pressing record. It all happens so fast– his hand wrapped around his cock, his pre-cum leaking from the head of his cock, the soft moans and groans he’s letting out. Before he even realizes it, he’s coming ropes of cum, moaning and cursing under his breath. He stops the video and takes a second to process what just happened. That’s the fastest he’s ever came. And all he did was think about you and your mask kink…

He has to message you again.

He sends the video of him jerking off to JabbaTheSlut and rushes back to his conversation with you.

“You ever been with Mandalorian?” he types.

While he anxiously awaits your response he checks his other messages. SorganSlut69 is asking what types of services he offers. He supposes he should make a price list now.

He types out:

15 credits for nude mirror pics (helmet stays on of course)

25 credits for bulge pics

50 credits for dick pics

100 credits for jerk off vids

+25 credits for pictures of the mess after

Venmo: BountyMan1

That seems reasonable, right? He sends the price list to SorganSlut69 and checks his other messages. He decides just to send his price list to everyone actually, figuring it would be easier that way. But he holds off on sending the price list to you for some reason. JabbaTheSlut immediately asks for an aftermath picture and sends twenty-five credits. He takes the picture before his cock goes fully soft and sends that over.

SorganSlut69 says, “Mirror picture first. I want to see what I’m working with.”

He sighs and gets up, cleaning up the mess of cum and slowly taking off his armor and flight suit. He realizes he has to be hard again for this picture so he strokes his cock once more, thinking of you…

Soon enough, he’s rock-hard and holds up his data-pad in front of the mirror, snapping a photo but waiting to send it until he receives the credits. SorganSlut69 sends the fifteen credits and he sends the picture, taking the time to transfer all of his new credits to his bank account before proceeding any further. He surely has enough to fix the pipe in the refresher now but he has to keep going if he’s going to repair the Razor Crest’s engine.

A notification from you pops up on his screen.

“Nope ;),” you respond. All the better for him.

I can do this, he tells himself.

Little does he know he’s great at this actually.

A few rotations have passed and even if that short amount of time he’s built up regulars; JabbaTheSlut, BeMyNaboo, JediPussyTrick, and SorganSlut69. And then there’s you. He hasn’t brought up his new line of work with you just yet. His conversations with you range from sexual topics to random casual stuff. He likes talking to you and maybe he doesn’t want to bring up what he does yet, fearing it may change your dynamic from a woman he’s talking with to one of his clients.

His regulars are… fine. The conversations there are purely transactional, never extending into real conversation. Except for SorganSlut69 who tries to converse with him. She’s extremely annoying but she tips on top of paying paying Din his normal rate. So he feels obligated to entertain her.

One afternoon you happen to ask him, “So you’re a bounty hunter?”

Kriff, he feels like he can’t lie to you for some reason. Even though it’s so easy to do that over a screen, but he just can’t bring himself to do it.

“I used to be,” he replies.

“What do you do now?” you ask.

“...I sell photos.”

“Photos? What kind?”

He sighs and figures it would be easier just to send you his price list. Maybe you’ll want something?

Your response is so cute to him for some reason.

“Would it be okay if I bought something?”

You’re like… asking for permission to use his services. He doesn’t quite get why but it’s adorable to him.

“Of course. What would to like?”

“Hmm, a bulge pic.”

Right after you send that he gets a notification from Venmo. And just when he thought you couldn’t get any cuter you do, putting a little note in the memo on the transaction.

“Thank you <3,” the note says.

He’s already hard because it’s you of course. He snaps a photo and sends it your way, extremely anxious for your response.

“Oh wow,” you respond with an emoji that has a shocked expression on its face.

“You like what you see?” he asks.

“I doooo,” you say.

“You want anything else?”

“Video?”

Maker, he’s excited to send you this video. He’s already hard and horny for you, thinking about what it would be like with you here, straddling him and soaking his cock. Kriff, he wants you bad.

He pulls out his cock, the tip glistening with the most pre-cum he’s ever seen. He begins recording, stroking his cock slowly before building up to a faster pace. He wishes he wasn’t about to cum in his hand, instead wishing he was coming on you, inside you- wherever you wanted him.

Before he knows it, he’s coming in his hand, letting out a deep and visceral moan, his imagination feeling almost real for a moment. He stops recording and sends you the video before checking to see if you even sent the credits first. You did, though, he just couldn’t recall during his state of bliss. The memo on the transaction is filled with a bunch of hearts of course. He’s got it bad for you.

A few weeks pass by and his business is going stronger than ever. The Razor Crest’s engine is repaired. The pipe in the refresher is fixed. And he’s got enough rations to last him for weeks. He has a few more regulars and SorganSlut69 is just as annoying. His conversations with you are deeper and more meaningful, despite you being one of his customers. He wonders if one day this will progress any further.

His questions are answered when you send him a message that says, “Have you thought about selling your cum?”

The question makes his brain short-circuit.

“No… Why?”

“I told my friends I was talking to a Mandalorian and they told me I need to try some of his cummies.”

“To do what with it?”

“I don’t know exactly… Play with it?”

That’s not.

“Okay… How do I get it to you?”

“Where are you located?”

“...Nevarro.”

“No way! Me, too.”

Kriff, he wasn’t imagining it. The background in your icon was actually Nevarro.

“Meet up at the marketplace?” he asks.

“Sure. How’s tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah! After sundown?”

“Sure!”

Krifffff, he’s nervous. How is he going to do this? It’s still pretty early in the day. He can’t imagine you want his hours-old cum in a jar.

Maybe he can… convince you to watch? Maybe.

Whatever, he’ll just find out when he sees you.

Nightfall comes around and Din is anxious to meet you in person, to hear what your voice sounds like, to see what you smell like– to see if you match the idea he has of you in his head.

He heads to the marketplace as darkness sweeps through the town, no one around except for nefarious characters. And Din doesn’t care about what those people think of him. He spots a figure in the center of the marketplace, facing away from him.

It has to be her, he thinks to himself.

He approaches slowly before softly calling out, “WhoreForMandalore?”

“Hi! You must be BountyMan1,” you say, turning around and greeting him with a smile. You immediately tell him your real name and he repeats it over and over in his head, deciding that it suits you.

“So… Do you have it?” you ask, complete with a suggestive smirk.

“Oh! I, uh, thought you might want it… fresh?” he sputters. He could have worded that better.

“Oh! Um-”

“You know… not stale.”

“Right! My place or yours?”

“I’ve got a cramped ship so maybe yours?”

“Sounds good!” you say cheerfully, leading the way to your house.

It’s a small house on the outskirts of town, the opposite side from where Din parks the Razor Crest. You let him inside, closing the door behind you before leading the way to your bedroom. Din takes a look at his surroundings, noticing little details about your living space as he walks through. You sure like Dr. Pepper… He can tell by all the cans on your coffee table, on the kitchen counter, and on your nightstand.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, gesturing to the bed.

He sits at the edge of the bed awkwardly, feeling incredibly nervous. Are you going to watch him do this? Kriff, that thought alone already has him hard.

“Where do you, uh, want it?” he says, glancing around the room, “In this?” he says, picking up an empty Dr. Pepper can.

“Hmm, I have a different idea,” you say suggestively, walking in front of him and kneeling on the floor.

“Oh? What are you-” he cuts himself off when his breath hitches at your touch. Your hand slides up his thigh, inching closer to his cock.

“Is this okay?” you ask sweetly, peering up at him.

“Y-Yes… More than okay,” he stutters.

“Alright,” you chuckle, undoing the flight of his flight suit. Never in a million cycles did Din think he’d be here in your bedroom, with you on your knees before him, taking his cock out. His brain short circuits and he realizes he should set down the Dr. Pepper can he’s still awkwardly holding. He sets it back down on your nightstand and shudders when your hand finally wraps around his cock. You start by going slow, licking his balls, and kissing the base of his shaft. Your lips and tongue move ever so slowly, teasing him relentlessly.

“Kriff, cyar’ika,” he moans, “Oh wait, do you know what that means?” he asks, voice jumping an octave as you lick one long, slow stripe from his base to his tip.

“You think WhoreForMandalore doesn’t know what cyar’ika means?” you tease.

“You’re right. I-” He’s cut off again when you swirl your tongue in between the head of his cock and his foreskin. He curses in Mando’a, his voice low and the words so jumbled you can barely make out what he said. Your hand wraps around the base as you finally take him in your mouth, fitting as much of his length as you can. Your head bobs up and down as your tongue is flat against the underside of his cock. His hands caress each side of your head, ever so lightly because he’s unsure if it’s okay or not. But when you moan at the feeling of his gloved hands enveloping your face he grips harder, using a little more force. You look up at him, directly into his visor and Din has to try his best not to bust right then and there, in love with the way you’re so eager to please him. Your other hand cups his balls as you suck him off faster, picking up the pace when you hear his moans grow stronger.

And then he cums, hot cum spilling down your throat all while you don’t break eye contact, swallowing every last drop. He lets out a deep, guttural moan from underneath his helmet, his mixture of pants and curse words filling your bedroom. And once he’s done coming, you don’t stop, prolonging his high even further.

But once he’s finally done and you take him out of your mouth, you look up at him, resting back on your heels.

“Was that okay?”

“That… was amazing, cyar’ika,” he pants, still in disbelief that that just happened. He just expected to jerk off into a Dr. Pepper can, not receive head from the most beautiful woman on Nevarro. He looks down at you as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and feels… nervous all of a sudden. He’s never done anything like that before… like ever.

He rises from the bed and dashes out of your room, all while you’re looking up at him in confusion.

“Bye. Thanks for everything. Don’t worry about paying me!” he calls out over his shoulder, leaving your house and swiftly heading back to the Crest.

He runs inside and sits in his bunk, panting from his little sprint and the evening’s activities. He wants to see you again. That is if you’ll still have him after.

His worries subside once he hears a noise from data-pad go off. He picks it up and reads a Discord notification from you.

“I had fun tonight. Until next time, Mando ;)”

Hopefully y’all caught the little Easter egg in the beginning but, the woman with long green hair and beautiful eyes is @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin 😍😏

@pedrostories

#what the fuck is this lol #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin crack fic #pedrostories #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

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padawansuggest · 11 months

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Idk where it’s going but I want an AU where Jaster and Jango are at the post office near the Senate on Coruscant so they can send out a package standing behind Qui-Gon in line who’s got Obi-Wan on his hip like a toddler (his 14 year old baby finally learned how to slip the toddler leashes and wants to hide under a shelf and Qui-Gon doesn’t have the energy to wrestle him back out when he’s done) and sending Master Dooku a hard copy letter about why he IS NOT joining him on Sereno for a yearly family gathering because he can be judged just fine from the comfort of the temple, and it’s much more insulting to send it through the post office because it’s easy to hand a letter to the temple curriers but this is Taking Effort, and extra effort at that because he’s wrangling his 14 year old baby while doing it, and Jaster and Jango are like ‘jetti!’ And then Obi-Wan pops out from where he’s mostly hidden in Master’s robes and they’re all ‘0.0 BABY JETTI’ and now they’re trying to woo the small boy and asking him a million questions (‘what’s ur master doing?’ ‘Sending grandmaster hate mail’ ‘why are you in his arms’ ‘I found out how to get the lock open on my leash’ ‘are you crying?’ ‘No it’s allergies I’m allergic to everything’ *rubs his snotty nose into Qui-Gon’s neck while Qui looks for patience* ‘are you hungry? We know a good place that does fritters’ ‘yes, I’m starving if ur buying’) and now Qui-Gon is standing to the side while they send off their package because his child wants fritters and awkwardly explaining to his son he just made besties with a king and prince who he insulted multiple times and sneezed on twice and can you plz behave for five seconds today so they don’t start a war with Mandalorians? No. No he cannot behave that long. It’s okay, the Mandos seem charmed by his bad manners and horrible open mouthed coughs like he’s a born and raised plague spreader. He is, btw. The Mandos take them out to lunch and all of them are dismayed when Obi-Wan leaves Dex’s diner having decided that out of all his new friends, Dex won the new bestie challenge. He gave Obi-Wan a milkshake and a cookie.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #feral obi wan #baby wan #qui gon jinn #master dooku #jaster mereel #jango fett #dexter jettster #if grandpa wants baby time he can come over and babysit like a normal man plz #Qui gon is oh so very sleepy and will accept someone else feeding his child rn #child leash

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psychosith · 6 months

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Talk to Me

Din Djarin x Jedi!Reader

summary: You, Din, and Bo have been asked to “take care” of the malfunctioning droids on Plazir-15, and the Mandalorians don’t know much about the Jedi’s involvement in the Clone Wars.

warnings: mentions of trauma/ptsd, panic attacks, child endangerment(?), mentions of war, mild injuries/blood, i can’t think of anything else but lmk if i missed something

a/n: this is based on a request from @otter-nonsense620! it’s been a hot minute since i’ve watched the Mando so this might not be totally accurate but… wtv. when i was writing this i was imagining the characters had feelings for each other but hadn’t confessed yet, but you can read this as platonic or romantic. Anyways, enjoy!

“Our constables are unequipped to confront battle droids,” the duchess said.

“Ah- former battle droids,” the duke corrected, looking pleased with himself. “They’ve been rehabilitated.”

You glanced nervously between Bo and Din. You wanted to be helpful to them and their cause, but hearing the words battle droid again for the first time since the war caused an unexpected spike of panic in you. The rest of the conversation with the duchess was muted in your ears, your mind running a mile a minute. Din’s husky voice in your ear brought you back to the present, “We’re leaving.”

You figured that Bo and Din had accepted the duke’s deal and your anxiety could only grow as you speak to the security officer and then the Ugnaughts. In the hyper loop on the way to the loading docks, you’re bouncing your knee and worrying the inside of your cheek when Bo takes notice.

“Hey,” she says, resting a hand on your knee, “what’s up, y/n?”

You look up from the ground to meet her eyes and find genuine worry, but dismiss her concerns nonetheless. “I’m fine, Bo. Don’t worry about me.”

She pulls her hand back and nods her head, yet you can still see a hint of concern as she resumes conversation with Din, who has paid no mind to your conversation.

You try to control your breathing as you walk through the loading docks, recalling your time in the Order. Battle droids of all kind are working various jobs on the docks, and you can recognize almost every model, having taken many down in the war. You’re following a line of centurion droids when you come to an access point headed by a B-1 model. It’s almost identical to the models that fought in the war, and you find yourself spiraling into a memory from years ago…

You knew a war was coming, but you didn’t know this was how. You, your master, and many of the other members of the Order had gone to Geonosis to rescue Obi-Wan Kenobi from Count Dooku. You remember being excited, as you were barely a teenager and this was your first official “battle”. The arena was packed, and you knew Jedi were scattered secretly throughout the stands.

When you finally ended up on the field, surrounded by droids, you began to grasp what was going on. This was war. You stood frozen as your friends and colleagues dropped dead in the sand. Dust was filling your lungs and blood covered every surface in sight.

A hand grasped at the bottom of your robes, and you looked down at the body. It was your master, collapsed at your feet with a nasty blaster wound in her side. You dropped to your knees and tried to stop the blood flowing from her wounds, the substance thick and warm on your shaky hands. A sharp ringing in your ears blocked out your master’s final words before her eyes glazed over. A large shadow loomed over you and you followed it to where a B-2 unit stood with a blaster aimed at your head. A scream was caught in your throat, unable to escape from the pure shock coursing through your veins. A green saber slashed through the droid just in time, and the jedi wielding it offered a hand to help you up. Your master’s blood coating your hands and robes, you ignited your lightsaber and moved to a proper fighting stance.

You were ripped from your memory when Din was thrown across the docks, likely by the centurion with an extended fist. The droid breaks out into a run as Bo starts firing at it. Your heartbeat rises in a crescendo as scenes from the war replay in your head and you are left useless to stop them. You’re struggling to breathe and sobs are shaking your entire body. Though you can hardly move, you begin to stumble back to the hyper loop and to the rooms provided to you by the duke and duchess.

Your hands are warm and you keep seeing your masters eyes in your head, staring dully into yours. Violent tremors rack your body and your skin is burning hot. You can almost feel phantom blood soaking into your robes, and you tear and paw at your sleeves.

You’re hysterical when Din finds you curled up against the wall. Tears stain your cheeks and you’re muttering hopelessly to yourself about “i wanna go home,” and, “i’m sorry i’m so sorry.”

For a long moment, Din doesn’t know what to do. He stands there feeling helpless as he watches you suffer. His body moves of its own accord when he crouches next to you and places a warm hand on your arm. Your gaze finds him with a sense of numbness in your eyes. “Hey,” he says softly, “I’m here.”

You say nothing in response but tears come back into your eyes and he buries you in his arms, letting you cry into his shoulder as much as you need. Din is the one to break the silence.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” he asks.

“It’s stupid,” you say.

“It’s not stupid, he says, “talk to me.”

So you do. You tell him everything. Your master, your many battles in the war, every time you brushed with death. A weight was lifted off your shoulders, and he was the one to hoist the burden. Din held you the whole time, rubbing soothing circles into your back. Then you told him why you were crying now.

“It’s just, seeing all those droids again…” you start.

“Y/n,” he says sorrowfully, “if I had known.”

“It’s not your fault, Din. You couldn’t have known.” you reassure him.

“I should have. You shouldn’t have to bear that all by yourself.” He thought for a moment. “I’m always here, you know. Whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to go through it alone. You can always talk to me.”

You touch his arm softly, “I know that now, Din.”

Slowly, he starts to stand up and offers you his hand. “C’mon. Let’s get you in bed.”

He leads to to your bed and as you’re getting settled under the thick blanket, you feel the bed dip beneath you as he sits next to you.

“Scoot over,” he says, and you oblige. His arms go to wrap around your waist, and he pulls your body towards his in a comforting manner. He holds you this way for the rest of the night, and as you feel yourself drift into sleep, you know you are loved.

a/n 2: lowkey i hate this but i had no motivation also sorry to the person who requested this i reread your prompt and it said “trauma but hidden really well.” … oops. it’s already written so so sorry js message me if you hate it i’ll rewrite😭

#star wars #star wars x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #grogu #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #comfort #clone wars #attack of the clones #hurt/comfort #idk what else to put

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pagesfromthevoid · 1 year

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Cowboy Like Me | d.d. | 8

Din Djarin x princess!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Din likes taking orders from pretty girls

Author’s Note: I am a SLUT for romance and longing touches. Click here to see the inspo for her dress and the inspo for her circlet

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

The Dress

In the following weeks on Sorgan, Din and her had fallen into a comfortable routine. He picked up work at the common house, typically small things to keep him busy. If he couldn’t find work, he resumed training with the villagers who were still interested in being able to defend themselves.

Today, she trailed behind him, chatting his ear off about wanting to defend herself. Din didn’t think it was necessarily a bad idea, but he didn’t want to embarrass her if she wasn’t great at first.

“Teach me to shoot,” she ordered, standing with her hands on her hips. She had taken to wearing the clothes of the village, though today she wore her travel set and holster once more. “Or are you afraid you’ll hurt my delicate sensibilities?”

The villagers looked between the two, some of them clearly trying to hold back their laughter. However, after giving them a pointed look, they dispersed almost immediately and went on their way. Din narrowed his eyes under the helmet.

“I won’t go easy on you.”

“I would expect nothing less from a Mandalorian.”

The two locked eyes, but she refused to back down as an innocent smile spread over her face. Princess or not, she was defiant and determined to get what she wanted from him. He stepped towards the crate of weapons, picking up a lightweight blaster and looked it over. For a moment, he considered what it meant to present the gun to her –though she ruined the thought by plucking it out of his hands with far too much confidence.

“You’re going to hurt someone if you keep acting up,” he warned, turning to face her.

“You seem to be under the impression that I’ve never used a blaster before,” she countered, her smile turning into a sly grin.

“Why do I need to teach you to shoot then, princess?”

It had taken about two weeks for him to realize that the title only made her stop talking because she liked when he said it. And when Din finally realized the effect it had on her, he certainly started to drop it in conversation more often. Truthfully, he didn’t know why she liked it when he called her by her title –usually, it was when he was feeling more snarky than usual that he used it –but he also didn’t care.

He liked the way she looked at him when he said it. How she would lick her bottom lip just barely and look away for a moment, flustered. Then when she would turn back to him, the corner of her lip caught between her teeth to keep herself from reacting further.

He loved it.

“Because,” she explained simply, looking over the weapon in her hands. “Just because I’ve used one before does not mean I know how to use it correctly.”

“At least you’re self-aware.”

It was her turn to narrow her eyes at him, mocking offense as she stepped in front of him. “Sometimes I think you like riling me up, Mando.”

“It’s easy.”

“Keep it up,” she warned, though she had returned her gaze to the blaster to look over the safety and the trigger. “And you’ll learn that two can play at that game.”

Instead of responding, Din took the blaster from her hands and held it out in front of him. Their flirting took a step back as he began to explain the different pieces of the weapon to her, taking his time to ensure she understood. It was moments like this –where they could be flirting or teasing or whatever seconds before only for her to listen intently to his directions the next –that he knew she was something else. All she wanted was to understand, and ask questions.

He loved that too.

When he held the weapon back out to her, she took it carefully. However, his hand didn’t move from the weapon, instead moving to cover hers as he held it up.

“Don’t put your finger on the trigger yet,” he explained, standing beside her with his hand hovering at her elbow. “You need to fix your stance before you do anything.”

“How do I –,”

But Din was kneeling beside her already, spreading her legs apart carefully. His hand pressed against the back of her knee, bending it just slightly, before he pulled one foot back some. He stood slowly, one hand trailing up her thigh over her hip, then up to her elbow. She glanced over her shoulder at him as he positioned himself behind her, one hand on her elbow and the other on her weapon again.

He leaned in close, guiding her aim towards the target. “The more you practice, the better you’ll get at aiming without my help. Which will make it easier to draw your weapon in the moment.” He pushed her finger back into the trigger position, then released his grip on her. “Fire.”

She pulled the trigger, just barely missing the target. Her shoulders sagged, disappointed in herself, as she lowered her weapon. But Din rested his hand on the small of her back.

“Not bad for a first lesson,” he reassured, though he took the gun from her. “You need to get better at your stance and your aim will get better.”

“I think I was distracted,” she admitted, turning to look up at him. That sly grin returned.

“You’ll have to learn to ignore distractions,” he pointed out, stepping away from her to set the blaster back in the crate. “Or you’ll get killed.”

He could feel her stare on his back, and when he turned back around, her arms were crossed over her chest. Her grin had turned into a soft smile, and she shook her head. Din raised a brow under his helmet, tilting his head to the side as she made her way over to him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she promised, standing on her toes and pressing her lips to the cheek of his helmet. “Let’s go find the baby and have lunch.”

Din smiled, offering his hand to her to take. It was a simple motion, one that meant more than outside eyes would understand. But she took it without hesitation, pulling herself close to his side as they returned to the village.

Grogu was with the children, chasing frogs —no doubt trying to eat one. As Din was about to scold him, she laughed and scooped the baby up and rested him on her hip. It was a hell of a sight to behold —her with his son on one hip and her other hand in Din’s. He’d never get used to it, and maybe he shouldn’t, but stars, he adored every second they had together.

Upon returning to their hut, she set Grogu down and pulled out the food that Omera had dropped off for them. They had taken to making their own food most of the time, but when the village came together, Omera would put together meals for the three of them and leave it for them.

She had asked within the first week of living there to be taught how to prepare meals. Din thought it was genuinely hilarious to see Omera confused by her request. They had settled on not revealing her heritage —not because they didn’t trust the people, but because they didn’t want to cause a stir. It was easier to just tell Omera that she had never prepared krill before.

Grogu started going through her bag as she set up dinner, pulling out her dress and circlet once again. Din reached out to stop him, but it was too late as the baby held up the fabric of the skirt over his face.

“That’s not yours,” Din scolded as she walked over with two bowls, setting them on the floor where they had made their makeshift dining space.

“He’s fine,” she promised, moving to gather the kid’s bowl and sitting on the floor. “At least someone can enjoy it.”

Din sat behind her, pressing his back against hers. She faced the entryway, and Grogu dropped the dress to climb into her lap. This became part of their routine —sitting back to back, with her watching the doorway as Din removed his helmet to eat. It was such a small thing, but it meant so much. Maybe it broke the Creed; but he wasn’t willing to admit it just yet.

“You can still wear it,” Din suggested, resting his helmet beside him. “There’s no reason you can’t.”

“Besides the fact that I’m waist deep in a swamp every day while hiding from my mother?” She was teasing, and he could hear it in her voice. But he knew she was being serious.

“Well, yes, besides that.” He lifted his tea to his lips, taking a long sip before he shrugged. “You’re not running right now –or in a swamp. If you wanted to wear it, you could.”

“Are you asking me to play dress up for you, Din?”

“Maybe I am.”

She didn’t respond, other than a soft hum as she sipped her own tea. There was a silence that fell between them, one that often did when they were comfortable and didn’t have much else to add. Din couldn’t deny he was curious to see her, in person, dressed up in her royal regalia. The pastel green color of her gown was lovely, and he was certain it would look beautiful on her. While he was very fond of her civilian wear, he wanted to see his princess as a princess –if only once.

As he finished eating, he set his bowl to the side then took a deep breath before he slipped his helmet back on. Her back moved away from his and the floor of the hut creaked as she stood up. Wynta, Omera’s daughter, came to the door and knocked, poking her head in as Din turned around.

“Can we play with Grogu? My mama is setting up a circle to tell stories.” He glanced at Grogu, who was already waddling his way to the front door. So he simply nodded as Wynta lifted him into her arms and hurried off. “Thank you, Mando!”

Left alone now, with the sun setting, he glanced down at her. She was looking at her dress and circlet, left half pulled out of her bag. There was a longing in her eyes, one that suggested she really did want to wear it again.

“Put it on.”

“Hm?”

“I want you to put it on.”

For a moment, she simply stared at the pile of elaborate fabric, as if she was debating if she would. When she didn’t move, Din stepped around her and lifted the gown into his hands. He had removed his gloves to eat, and decided there was no reason to put them back on. The feel of the material of her dress was something he had never felt before, though it wasn’t nearly as soft as it looked. It caught the dying light of the sun, shimmering like the stars themselves. He held it out to her, though he did not push further than that.

She glanced between him and the gown, taking a breath before she motioned to the clothes she wore. Her voice shifted, as if taking on the role of princess once more. “You will have to help me, then, Mandalorian.”

Din lowered the gown, holding it tight in his fist, before he set it back down on her bag. He stepped forward, reaching out to unbuckle the holster on her thigh. While her clothing was not nearly as elaborate as his armor, he took his time to remove the belt that held the holster. When that was pulled off, he set it down neatly on the floor. Then he kneeled in front of her, running his hands down her legs, until he reached her boots and started to unbuckle those.

They slipped off without a fight, which made it easy to take her socks off next and leave her barefoot in front of him. Her hand tilted his chin up, drawing his gaze up to her for a moment before she motioned for him to stand up. When he stood back up, staring down at her through his visor, she crossed her arms in front of herself –and simply pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor. Then, as if that was not enough to cause every part of Din to short circuit, she unbuttoned her pants and dropped them next.

Standing before him, a thin bandeau and underwear between her being completely bare, Din’s mouth ran dry. But she was not done –she unfastened the bandeau and let it drop next, leaving her with nothing but her underwear left. Thankful for his helmet, which hid the fact that he was looking her over as if he was about to devour her entirely, he reached out, instinctively and longingly, and tried to pull her in. But she swatted his hand away. He swallowed hard, looking at her face finally.

“Give me the gown,” she ordered, nodding to the heap of fabric on the floor.

Din did not hesitate, taking the dress from the floor, and holding it out to her. She looked unimpressed by him, taking the gown from him to slip into with ease. She shimmied it over her hips, pulling the sheer sleeves over her arms. The neckline plunged, deep enough to expose the expanse of her skin. The gold chains that accented the bodice were unhooked, and she stood before him, holding out her wrists.

“Fasten these for me, Din.”

He nodded slowly, taking her wrist in his hands and hooking the chains around her wrists together. Then, he kneeled before her again, fastening the hooks of her bodice. His hands rested on her waist when he finished, staring up at her through his visor with nothing but pure longing. Her hands rested on his shoulders, returning the intensity of his gaze.

“I need my circlet now.”

Swallowing hard, he nodded once and stood, retrieving the piece. The feel of it in his hands was familiar, and he looked it over for a few seconds before he looked back at her. The gold on it was fading, clearly not actually made of it, but the metal underneath was a familiar cadence. Din hesitated, not sure if he should ruin the moment, before deciding against it. Then he set it on her head softly and stepped back.

She stood with her shoulders back, straight and proper, with what could only be described as a royal smile.

“Well?” She asked, bringing her hands together in front of her.

“You are…,” but there weren’t words to describe her beauty. None that did her any justice.

“Leaving the galaxy’s best warrior speechless?” She teased, smiling at him playfully. “Do you know what I miss most about my life on Senex, Din?”

“What?”

She stepped forward, bowing far too formally for someone like him, and then held out her hand. “Dancing.”

“Dancing is a dangerous game,” he pointed out, though he took her hand anyway.

“Not anymore dangerous than what we’ve been doing,” she countered, pulling herself close to him. “Do you know how to?”

“No, but if I’m gonna teach you to shoot, I’m sure you can teach me to dance.”

———

Taglist (CLOSED): @r4iner @sgt-morgan @mingeniee @darling1darling @teriolan-blog @venusfalling @double—take @sunshine96 @demisexuallover @mxtokko @ellesvoid @waddafaknik @c-ms1ut @kokoirne @sl-ut @munsons-queen @intense-sneezing @geekrenaissance @dancealongthelightofday @tizylish @ruleroftides @aheadfullofsteverogers

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandolorian x reader #the manadalorian #din djarin imagine #mando x reader #the mandalorian imagine

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lowlights · 2 months

Text

Recalibration

Din Djarin x f!reader / 1k

Warnings: Established relationship, medical diagnosis, reader is not able to have kids, lots of feelings, insecurity and worry, Din being just the absolute sweetest, comfort, reader has a uterus but this can actually be read as a gn! reader I think.

Last year, a cancer diagnosis robbed me of the choice to have kids. It's been a journey to grieve and process this, even when I thought I might not have kids anyway. This story was written in response to an ask to @haylzcyon who gave me the permission and strength to write this. This is dedicated to that anon, and anyone else who has gone through something like this.

---

You sat in a stunned silence outside the medcenter, wide-eyed and stone-faced. The people of the town bustled in front of you as they went about their day, buying fruits and textiles, laughing and arguing and living.

Rage boiled up inside of you. How could they just run their errands like everything was normal? Like your whole world hadn’t just been upended? The feeling was misplaced but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. Anger was easier than the unnameable monster that was eating at you from the very pit of your stomach. You clenched your hands into fists, knuckles white and aching.

“That deal took much longer than I wanted, I’m sorr- what’s wrong?” Normally the shiny Mandalorian was hard to miss - unless he wanted to be invisible - but you hadn’t noticed him walk up beside you. His hand went to his belt as he glanced around the crowd, his other hand protectively gripping your shoulder.

His touch shocked you out of your resentment of the world. “No, it’s- nothing’s wrong, Mando. Can we go back to the ship? Now, please?” You inwardly cringed at how high your voice was as you tried your best to be fine, and you knew that he clocked it immediately as well.

With a silent nod, Mando guided you back to the ship that you both called home. His left hand never left the small of your back as he parted the crowds for you wordlessly. At first, you found comfort in his presence but dread slowly seeped into your bones as you realized that you were going to have to explain what the doctor had just told you.

Mando’s helmet was off almost before the door of the ship had whooshed closed. “Cyare, what’s wrong? What happened?” His deep brown eyes bore a hole into your soul, and as soon as his hands cupped your face you broke down in tears. The ugly sobs poured out even though you wished them back into your body with every ounce of your being.

“I-I just went in to get my meds refilled and get some more bacta patches for the ship, right? I hadn’t seen a doctor in a while so he ran some…some tests.” Mando nodded along even though he knew all of this already. His thumbs stroked your cheeks as he tried not to rush you. The worry was clear on his face, though. You needed to just spit it out.

“He said I can’t, well I shouldn’t…I can’t have kids, Din. I can’t give you kids. I’m s-so…I’m so sorry. And I didn’t even know I wanted to have kids but now I can’t. I’m so sorry.” You collapsed against him as the sobs returned. He immediately wrapped his arms around you. Stars above, he must be so upset. What if he was angry? What if he didn’t want to be with you now? All you could think was the worst.

Mando murmured sweet, soft things to you as he softly kissed the crown of your head. As your tears subsided you could make out what he was saying.

“I love you, I love you, I love you. Please be alright, I love you.”

Your heart fully cracked open. “You’re not mad?” you asked with a shaky voice, finding the courage to look him in the eyes.

“Mad?” he asked quizically. “Why would I be mad?”

The assumptions you had made in your head spilled out of you.“You’re just…you’re such a good dad! And I can’t ever give you that. You deserve someone who can give you kids and the life that you want. I’m so sorry.”

“No!” Mando said firmly as he hugged you to his chest again. “Don’t apologize again. There is nothing to be sorry about.”

Relief rushed over you and you finally wrapped your hands around his waist. “Okay,” you whispered into the beskar chest plate. You stood there with him - your protector, your love, your Din - and said nothing as your breathing finally returned to normal. When you pulled back to look at him, you saw that his face was still twisted in worry.

“Are you- please, cyare, tell me if you’re well. Are you sick? Is it..is it bad?”

The realization that you had totally skipped over the why of this made you mentally kick yourself. “I’m fine! I’m- well, it’s not a terminal illness or anything. I’m so sorry- no, let me apologize for this,” you chided when he opened his mouth to protest. “It’s not something that will hurt me, so long as I don’t get pregnant. But I’m alright, physically I’m alright.”

Din felt his own relief with that reassurance and settled you both down on your shared cot so that you could fill him in on every detail. He held your hand the entire time and wiped away your tears when they came again, never rushing or prodding. When you were finally done explaining you looked at him with expectant eyes. What would he say now that he knew the finality of it all?

Din wasn’t a man of many words. This had certainly been the case when you met him, and he still was more likely to sit back and listen rather than speak. He cleared his throat and you held your breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what it is like to lose the choice to have children. But listen- we have a kid. We have Grogu. You’re my family. You’ve given me everything I could want.”

You bit your lip. “Swear?”

He nodded. “I swear. Down the line, if we want kids, we can adopt them as our own. I was a kid who needed a home, and so was Grogu. But as long as it’s the three of us, that’s all that matters.”

You believed him. The look in his eyes, the way he held you to him, the way he has always protected you with his life. You believed him.

Din kissed you, long and slow, and you melted into each other. “Speaking of, it’s time to go pick up Grogu from Greef. He’s probably destroyed his office by now,” he said with a chuckle. “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” you sighed. You knew you would be, even when it got hard again.

You both stood and Din led you by the hand to the cockpit. It was time to go pick up your child.

#din djarin #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #tw medical #tw medical diagnosis #tw fertility #tw pregnancy talk

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oliviajdjarin · 2 years

Text

Din Djarin: A Lucky Shot

Pairing: Din Djarin x female!reader (she/her)

Excerpt: “You felt your hands beginning to shake in unwanted frustration. His breaths continued to stay labored as he slouched over himself, pressing his palm against his bleeding side.

‘What happened?’ you spat.

He breathed deeply once. Twice. The strain in his lungs made your anger waver just so. ‘A lucky shot.’

‘“A lucky shot,”’ you mimicked, lowering your voice to mock him. “I never get tired of your understatements.’

Warnings: rusty Razor Crest and mando’a talk, bleeding, swearing, descriptive wound care (stitching) (probably incorrect I am definitely not a nurse lol), heavy needle talk, Din fainting, reader panicking and screaming and crying, major panic attack, she kind of accepts his death for a second, softness, comfort, allusions to kissing and sex.

A/N: I am sorry for not sticking to my username for the past few months. My mind has been a bit elsewhere, but the weather is getting colder, and that means that Din is getting closer. This was also in my drafts as “Din wound cleaning sobbing” so hopefully this is coherent. I love you all dearly. Thank you for allowing me to do what I love :)

A/N 2: Mando season three trailer…Din girlies are you okay because I’m not.

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, reblog, or any other form of support, it would be much appreciated <3

Pedro Masterlist

(gif not mine credit to owner!!)

You felt his blood before you smelt it—the heat of it, not the stickiness. It pressed against your palm and sunk your stomach down to the floor.

“Din?” you whispered.

“Just—” he started, pushing past you. “I just need to sit.

You would have slapped him—should have slapped him—but his beskar would have hurt you more than him.

“Need to sit?” you questioned, anger underlining your tone.

“Yes,” he shot back, and you huffed in annoyance, closing the Crest’s hanger-doors with a press of a button.

You knew something was off the second his speeder-bike came into view. His normally straight-shot driving began to serpentine ever-so-slightly on the Tatooine sand before he shook his head and straightened himself out. You’d never seen him do that before.

He then parked the rust-covered speeder, and winced as he dismounted. You could hear his grunts of pain in your mind, only hearing them faintly and rarely in your time on the Razor Crest.

You never expected to stay as long as you had, and you never expected to grow nauseous at the thought of leaving.

He began his walk over to you, holding his left hand gently over his stomach. You noticed a slight limp as well, but not the worst you had seen from him. Not by a long shot.

You watched and waited for him as he returned, just as you always did, but you could not help your eyebrows creasing in concern. The sand blew, blowing him off his course, and he stumbled over his feet, visibly wincing once again. You squeezed the sides of the doorframe and leaned forward, as if you could catch him from this distance, but he carried on. With every step he took, your anger rose higher and higher, based purely on your fears of him never returning, or only returning long enough for you to watch him fade away into the afterlife.

You just wished he wasn’t so kriffing good at faking being okay. He was like that from the moment you met him.

“A partner?” you questioned. “You’re kidding me, Karga.”

The leader of the Bounty Hunters' Guild rolled his eyes and chuckled in response, leaning further back in his Cantina chair. “I am not having my best profit killed off by mercenaries. You know their violence better than anyone. You need someone on your six.”

He wasn’t wrong. You had dealt with this group before, and the fob he had given you was no easy shot. But you had handled it before.

“So you just don’t want your cut of my profits disappearing, huh? No concern for me?”

“None at all,” he said with a glint in his eye and a tone slicked with sarcasm. That was the closest to an “I care about you” you’d ever get from him.

“Besides, it’ll make this job a much lighter load,” he said, and you took a sip of your drink as you analyzed the situation.

You were a flexible woman, if you did say so yourself, and Greef was making somewhat of an arguable point. Besides, it was only one job.

And you’d rather be caught dead than showing a weakness in a Cantina of all places.

“Alright,” you responded, setting the wooden mug back on the sticky table. “So where are they then? Where is my ‘partner?’”

And that’s when the Cantina went silent, because none other than the fucking Mandalorian walked in, wearing armor worth more than you’d ever see in your life.

You couldn’t help your mouth dropping. Just a little.

You had heard of him—it was impossible to not, especially as an acclaimed member of the Guild—but you didn’t know he would look like…that. Broad shoulders, sinched waist, strong walk, large guns. Fuck.

The look of him only partially excused the fact that he had been taking his pick of the best pucks in Karga’s lot, therefore stealing the opportunity from you. Only partially.

But damn did he look good doing it.

He continued his walk forward, keeping his gaze locked on the general area you were sitting. Eyes bore into him as he walked, causing your heart to race for him.

You wondered if he enjoyed it—the stares, the looks. You wouldn’t find out until much later that he did not, and if you would have looked only a few inches down from his sculpted chest, you would have seen his hands squeezed so tightly it was stretching their leather coating. The tell-tale sign of his discomfort.

He made it to your booth—not bothering to hide his gaze burning a hole through your body—before turning towards Greef and saying, “I want my next job.” His deep voice sent a tingle down your spinal chord.

Greef proceeded to bounce his eyes between you and the Mandalorian’s tall frame, taking his sweet old time. You saw the flicker in his eyes the second the idea came to him, and he opened his arms towards you.

“Right on time,” he said to you, and nodded his head towards the Mandalorian. “Your partner.”

Your eyes widened, your body froze, and you have never left his side since.

Even as you watched his stubborn ass limp through the Tattooine sands, you would never go back on taking that job. Not for a million credits.

Well, maybe two million. And a guarantee he would always come home safe.

He made it to the end of the Crest’s entrance ramp, and you straightened up ever-so-slightly, eyebrows still creased together.

He began walking up the ramp, the old metal squeaking with every step, and you took the opportunity to search each and every visible inch of him for injuries. His armor was in tact, his weapons were unchanged, and the sides of his undershirt looked unstained. He kept his hand floating above his side though, and his breaths became more and more labored as he came closer and closer to you.

He was inches from you when you said his name delicately, trying not to let your anger show through in your tone. “Din? You okay?”

You’d never get over the taste of his name.

He sighed loudly, and you brought your hands to his solid chest when he finally reached you. His familiar scent of sweat and metal hit you instantly, and you felt the one spot your eyes couldn’t see from far away, a space of revealed undershirt just underneath chest piece. His weak spot.

That’s when you felt it—the heat of blood against the pads of your fingers, and he proceeded to storm past you. He stumbled over to and sat on a random storage container to steady himself as you closed the doors to the Crest, and you turned back around with your arms folded. You felt your hands beginning to shake in unwanted frustration. His breaths continued to stay labored as he slouched over himself, pressing his palm against his bleeding side.

“What happened?” you spat.

He breathed deeply once. Twice. The strain in his lungs made your anger waver just so. “A lucky shot.”

“‘A lucky shot,’” you mimicked, lowering your voice to mock him. “I never get tired of your understatements.”

He groaned in response. “I’m fine. Just need some—” he winced as he spoke. “Just need some help.”

You nodded and walked over to your First Aid drawers, grinding your teeth, and crouched down in front of them, muscle memory carrying you through where each piece of equipment was whilst your mind traveled elsewhere.

“You said this would be a quick one,” you spat.

“It should have been,” he replied.

“Yeah, you should have been back two days ago.”

“Says you, of all people,” he countered. “Last time you were gone an extra week.”

You exhaled through your nose. “I told you it would take longer. That’s the difference between us Din, I communicate. I actually use our kriffing comm links.”

You grabbed one last roll of gauze and shut the drawer forcefully, more forcefully than you initially intended, and stood up to turn to him.

“I couldn’t risk them tracing our location,” Din said in reply. His counters to your comments were knocking the wind out of him. “You know that.”

“Yeah,” you began, walking to the fresher to fill a bucket of water. “I do know that. But I also know that I’d rather be put at risk by knowing you’re alive than thinking you’re dead for two days straight.”

He went silent at this, and you ran the faucet over the bucket, filling it up to the brim. This awkward silence was what the air in the Crest was always filled with for the first month or two you had taken him up on his offer to join him. Before the two of you had become…whatever the hell you were.

Despite your tone, you valued bickering and arguing like this more than you could even describe. It meant the two of you had progressed past the stage he was in with everyone else in the galaxy—cold, calculating, silent. With you, he could show his underbelly, he could call you out on your shit, he could show you his weak spot, and he could let enough of his personality show to match your wit with his own.

And, most importantly, it meant that he was alive.

Your Mandalorian was still alive.

You closed your eyes and let this thought coat your insides, filling you with relief instead of anger. You exhaled and turned off the sink, lifting the bucket from the hollow metal. Your rage turned to elation at the fact that he was still breathing, and your focus switched to making sure he stayed that way.

“I’m sorry Din,” you said, and held the bucket with one arm while turning off the fresher light with the other. “You just always manage to scare the shit out of—”

You were cut off by a thump. A loud thump, metal bouncing off metal, and your blood turned to ice.

“Din?” you questioned, pupils dilating as you felt the first drops of panic begin to drip into your stomach. You turned out of the fresher, only to find his body splayed on the Crest floor. Chest unmoving.

The bucket and First Aid dropped from your hands, coating the entirety of your pants and the floor in water, and you ran to him, falling to your knees at his side.

“Din!” you yelled, feeling where his undershirt was now soaked with blood. Its normally dark brown was now crimson red across the entirety of his stomach, and he was out cold.

“No no no Din,” you said, shaking his body with as much strength as you could. “Din!”

Your voice cracked with desperation, more than you had let out in years, but he remained limp as you rocked his body back and forth. You brought your hands to your head, as if that would keep you from crumbling.

“No, no,” you whispered, throat catching on a sob. “What do I—what do I do?”

You were no medic. The only training you had was from experience—stitching your own cuts, cauterizing your own wounds, and doing the same to him—but nothing to this degree. This much blood.

“What do I do!” you whispered firmly, defeatedly. You began shaking him again. “You’re supposed to tell me what to do!”

Tears dripped into your mouth as you stared at his frame. You felt blind without his help—trapped. How did you function before him? Before that deep voice coached you through life in such a way that made you feel seen, not lectured. You wanted nothing more than to just hear his voice through his modulator, maybe a chuckle if you were lucky.

Get up, he would say to you. Get up cyar’ika, you can do this.

Bits of your nerve began to return to you and you forced yourself to breathe. You swallowed grimly, licked your lips, and took a deep breath.

You couldn’t afford to panic. You were a kriffing bounty hunter, and a good one at that. You could do this.

Get up.

And you did. On shaking legs you stood, feeling the blood drop from your head, filling it with lightness.

Hurry mesh’la. Hurry, he would say, and you did.

You gathered the materials as quickly as you could, salvaging the small amount of water left in the bucket, and you returned to him. Tears continued to fall and your throat continued to close, but you were doing it. You were moving.

Good. Just keep breathing.

You took a breath as you kneeled beside him, still moving swiftly.

Now take the armor off, you imagined him saying, but you hesitated. You’ve seen more than enough of me.

This was true. You had cauterized wounds on his shoulders and lower back before, but never on his front. Your heart picked up at the thought of his potentially muscled body, but you stayed focused.

With another deep breath you reached forward and popped his chest piece off, setting it delicately to the side of him. You did the same with his arm pieces, moving quicker and quicker as you went, before finally sliding off his cape and removing his belt. While you remained rushed, you set the beskar down gently, knowing their meaning to him.

You had him down to his undershirt, and the mix of sweat and blood hit you. The crimson had stretched from his lower stomach up to his middle. You threatened to break again, but with the armor removed, a delicate rise and fall of his chest was visible. You let out a cry of relief.

Unzip me now. We don’t have all day.

You brought your trembling hands to the zipper of his undershirt and slowly pulled it down. Once it reached the end you pulled the material down to lay on his waist. You were forced to peel the soaked material off of his stomach and arms, and the vibrant red began staining your hands.

His normally bronzed and scarred skin was coated with red…so much red. You couldn’t lose your nerve. Not now.

The cut in his stomach was deep, deep enough that stitching was a definite. His lungs continuing to fill with air kept you focus, as well as his ever-present voice in your head.

You won’t hurt me cyar’ika, you could never.

Picking the needle and thread from the First Aid, you threaded the eye as quick as you could with your trembling fingers, and leaned over his hot body to begin stitching. Despite the wound, the blood, and the smell, it was still Din you were seeing bare. You didn’t know how he still managed to make it all beautiful.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, lining up the needle. Tears spilled into your mouth. “I’m sorry.” And you began to stitch.

It was not for the faint of heart—watching the thin point work itself in and out and in and out of his skin, pulling the pieces together tightly to ensure they stayed. The cut was clean, yes, but its depth caused for lots of tugging. A part of you was thankful he had fallen under, while the rest of you begged for his return.

You checked his pulse and his breathing routinely as you worked, stitching faster than you had ever done in your life.

I’m still here. I’m not leaving.

“Please,” you whispered. “Please Din.”

With one final loop through, the stitching was complete. You snipped the thread away from his skin and removed your hands from his body. His blood stained your skin all the way to your wrists, but you didn’t care. He wasn’t bleeding anymore. It was done.

You began to get feeling back in your body. You felt the stain of sweat on your back, the cramping in your knees from leaning over him, and a mix of sweat, tears, and snot covering your face. Your panic was starting to bridge its way into exhaustion.

You did it cyar. The hard part’s over. Just need cleaned.

You exhaled and placed your hands on your knees before getting up to quickly rinse off your hands. You then rushed back to him and dunked an extra rag into the bucket of water. You dragged it around his wound carefully, and watched his freckles and scars begin to appear on his skin.

It wasn’t perfect, but he was cleaned, dried, and stitched as best as you could have possibly done. All he needed to do was wake up.

You bit your lip and checked his pulse again, and the pillar of hope that had been unconsciously built inside you crumbled.

It was barely there. His pulse was barely there.

You were too late. Too slow. Too weak.

“No.” You began shaking your head, pressing down firmly onto his smooth neck, as if that would fix it.

“You can’t…not now,” you whined. “Not now. Please not now Din please.”

You would die with him. He would take every part of you when he left, and not leave anything behind.

“Din!” you screamed, shaking him again. “Come on please! Please Din—”

You were cut off by your own sobs.

“You’re—you’re my partner Din I need you,” you cried. “You’re my partner please don’t go. Please don’t leave Din please I tried.”

You rested your head above his wound, practically throwing yourself across him. “I tried.”

The damn had broken. You sobbed endlessly, imagining the life that could have been if you had just moved a little bit fucking faster. His skin was warm against you, but you knew it would eventually run cold, signifying that Din had truly left this life and moved onto the next.

You regretted the last words he heard from you. You wished they were the three words that had been stuck on the tip of your tongue for weeks, but they weren’t.

You were a coward, and now he’d never hear them.

“Please Din.” You could barely whisper. Your body was racked with only agony, and you kept your face embedded into his skin. Your tears slid off his soft skin, and your aching heart pounded relentlessly in your temples. “Please come back to me. I’m so sorry.”

Cyar, I’m right here.

“No,” you whispered, knowing that voice was only in your head. You never wanted to hear it again. You didn’t deserve to. “I’m so sorry. I failed. I failed—”

Cyar, hey—

“—you, I failed you.”

Hey.

A leathered hand cupped your cheek, and you realized that it wasn’t your heart pounding in your head—it was his.

Your neck snapped up, tears continuing to drip down your neck, but his neck was propped up, looking at you.

Looking at you.

“Din!” you yelled, and wrapped your arms around him.

He chuckled and held you close, letting you tuck your chin into his bristly neck. His arms—bare arms—wrapped around you was something you never thought you would ever feel. You only cried harder.

“I’m alright,” he whispered. “It’s okay.” That familiar tingle stretched up your back.

You couldn’t help the tears. Shock and panic were still hitting you, but waves of relief crashed overtop of them, bringing you back down. To this moment. To Din holding you close.

You breathed in his scent as your cries slowed to a stop, and you laid with him. Listening to his heartbeat sink up with yours.

“Didn’t mean to scare you mesh’la,” he whispered with a chuckle, and you laughed almost manically.

“You nearly killed me Din Djarin,” you replied, still laughing.

“Y/N,” he said, and moved your face away from his neck. He framed it with his hands and brushed your tears away from your cheeks. “You’re my partner too, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He took a breath, as if his words were getting caught in his throat. “I—I need you too.”

Your lip quivered and you nodded to him. You knew what he meant.

“You did not fail me,” he said. “You saved me. Thank you.”

You exhaled. “You’re welcome.”

He then brought your forehead to his own, and the stream of tears in your eyes opened up again.

This time, however, it was from happiness. Pure elation. Because you knew what he was doing.

Chills erupted along your back at the feeling of the cold metal against your burning forehead, and you rubbed your nose back and forth against it, invoking another chuckle from him.

He kissed you. Din Djarin had just kissed you, and one day, you hoped to return the favor.

“You need ice,” you whispered against him. “And bacta. And sleep.”

He nodded against you, and you pecked the crown of his forehead. You then brought your mouth down to his neck and kissed his pulse, and the slight groan he let out was anything but pain. It was muffled enough to show that he attempted to hide it, but was unsuccessful. His large hands squeezed your hips, and you smiled against his skin, smelling purely Din. No blood.

“I’ll be right back,” you whispered, and kissed him again before standing and walking to the basement of the Crest. You rubbed your nose and sniffled, still tasting his sweat and skin on your mouth.

Those three words would come. Until then, this was enough.

Translations:

Mesh’la— beautiful

Cyar’ika— beloved

Cyar— beloved

Tag list: (I apologize if you are not tagged/your tag is not working. Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@leahkenobi @cityofidek @burned-dorito @tiredbuthappy @punkiwiki @lovesbiggerthanpride @darth-voder @samanthacookieone @torchbearerkyle @stardust-galaxies @c4psicles-blog @joelsflannel @mysun-n-stars @tateelii @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @l0calgoth @thesmutslut @alastorhazbin @grincheveryday @martinsmomo @letaliabane @cathenan @big-ol-boat @niiight-dreamerr @jezebel1945 @call-me-doll-face @yelyahcardella @letskeepthislo-ki @misspearly1 @petals-opento-the-moon @just-a-sewer-goblin @em---r

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pedroshotwifey · 19 days

Text

Alone Always

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader

Genre: Angst

Prompt: "You shouldn't have done that."

Word count: 824

Tags/warnings: unrequited pining/obsession, mentions of sex, no physical description of reader, physical violence out of self defense, grinding, self-deprecation/depressive thoughts, hurt, no comfort, no happy ending

A/N: This is my addition to @iamasaddie's color writing challange! It's a super cute idea and I can't wait to see everyone else's fics!

*****

Your entire body is buzzing, your head foggy with lust. You’re sitting on Mando’s lap in his bunk, fucking finally. You’ve been pining after him since you joined him to help around the Crest, and now you know he’s been pining after you, too.

Either that, or he’s just bored. You really don’t want to think about it, but there’s a sinking feeling in your stomach despite your excitement that’s telling you that’s why he gave in. He’s bored and lonely and you’re too easy not for him to have.

He doesn’t seem to be super enthusiastic about being with you, per say, but rather about being with someone in general. Though enthusiastic might be a little too, well, enthusiastic to describe the way he’s acting. You’re not special to him, and you know it deep inside, no matter how much it hurts or keeps you awake at night.

He’s told you as much, told you that he’s not interested in a relationship, much less so a relationship with you. You’d cried yourself to sleep that night, but told yourself that he just doesn’t want to let himself love something so soon after the loss of his son.

That’s why you stop the tears from welling now, and instead force yourself to keep grinding down over his hardening cock. It hurts so damn much to be unwanted, but it seems that you’ve known so much of that in your life thus far, that it’s easier to shake it off and convince yourself that it’s for another reason.

“Waited for you, Mando,” you breathe as you pull yourself tighter to him. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, and his are planted for stability on the cot behind him. “Wanted you for so long.” You plant a kiss on the armor covering his chest, protecting his heart.

He says nothing as you continue your movement, telling yourself over and over again not to take it personally. But as your heart clenches, you wish that you had beskar of your own to hide it for you. It’s seen enough hurt to deserve such a shield.

Suddenly, Mando moves his hands to grip your waist, wordlessly flipping you around. He lays you on your back and starts to unbutton your pants. He watches his fingers work instead of looking at your face. You wonder for a moment if he understands how badly you want him, and how much you hate yourself for it. Hate yourself for being needy and annoying and lonely. You just want to feel loved, at least desired for a little while, and if this is the only way he’ll grant it to you, so be it.

He starts to peel your pants from your legs, pulling them away and tossing them on the floor behind him before crawling over you and unzipping his own pants. He still doesn’t spare you a glance, looking anywhere but in your eyes. Like you’re absolutely nothing.

You don’t know why the hurt turns to frustration so quickly, but it does, and there’s not much you can do about it. Your hands fly up to his helmet just as he gets his zipper undone. You only have the intention to grab hold of him to get him to look at you, but you understand how that looks really bad as his own hands snap up to grab yours in a crushing grip.

You yelp as he grasps your fingers so hard that they feel like they’re bruising against each other. Tears spring to your eyes, but you know that it’s as much from the internal pain as it is from your hands. You’re so desperate for attention, to be wanted, that you just don’t fucking think.

He holds you there for a second, watching without emotion as your tears start to overflow. You don’t know how to tell him that it’s not what it looks like without sounding even more pathetic than you already do.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” his deep, gravelly voice comes from the modulator.”

“I know, Mando, I-I’m sorry,” you sob gently. You wish more than anything that he could feel what you’re feeling right now and just understand. But you know that he can’t, and even if he could, he wouldn’t. You’re nothing to him—why should he care? It doesn’t matter how full of shame and regret you are.

He releases you after what feels like another ten minutes passes, feeling coming back to your numb hands as he backs away, pulls up his zipper, and starts walking away. Your cries become audible, panic setting in as you realize that you’re once again going to be left alone.

“I’m dropping you off at the next stop,” he tosses coldly over his shoulder. “Get your things packed.”

You just lay there in defeat, tears streaming down your cheek as heavily as the ache weighing in your heart, as the door shuts behind him.

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #pedro pascal characters #din djarin angst #angst #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #gender neutral reader

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 1 year

Text

Clan of Three - Chapter 1

Chapter One: The Mandalorian, The Child, and The Thief

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with an undiscovered lineage. An unlikely group to travel the galaxy together.

Word Count: 5.9K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: Fighting, teenage behavior, small injuries

------

A ship known by many for the man on board, he couldn’t even be described as a man. Skillful in languages, the ways of a blaster, and hand-to-hand, part of a race of the past. The bounty hunter, part of the creed. Their famous words, ‘This is the Way’.

The Mandalorian...

Dirt and dust fill the air as the Pre-Galactic ship lands on the planet of Nevarro. A sharp hiss comes from the landing gear as the large ramp opens up a man dressed in the finest armor and weapons stalks through the town. Looks and whispers as he makes his way through the town. A cantina filled with music and booze, its patrons conversating with one another or drinking their problems away but the arrival of this bounty hunter silences them instantly as his cold gaze scans across the room.

Spotting hidden in the corner a dark-skinned man who once his eyes meet his helmet raises a hand, “Ah, that was fast. Did you catch them all?” He asks and the hunter silently places all the tracking fobs on the table in front of him, “Good. I’ll begin the off-load.” The man nods at the seat in front of him and the other man sits down. Pulling his reward from his pocket and sliding them across the table.

“These are Imperial credits.” The Mandalorian says finding no use in them, the empire was something he didn’t want to support. The other man shrugs trying to convince him, “They still spend.”

The masked ban glares at the other man through his helmet, “I don’t know if you heard, but the empire is gone, Greef” His modulated voice shows his disgust and irritation.

“It’s all I’ve got.” The man puts his hands up and the hunter stands grabbing his trackers rather to give them to someone who will pay his preferred currency, “Save the theatrics…fine I’ll.” He sighs pocketing the money and pulling out a different payment, “I can do Calamari Flan, but I can only pay half.” He looks at other options contemplating them before grabbing the blue credits.

Greef signals someone in the cantina who leaves to unload the bounties on the ship, “Okay…I have a bail jumper, bail jumper, another bail jumper, a wanted smuggler-” “I’ll take them all.” The Mandalorian cuts off the man’s listing ready for new work making Greef let out a laugh.

“Nah, hold on. There are other members of the Guild, and this is all I have.” He shakes his head but the bounty hunter didn’t care about other people, “Why so slow?”

“It's not slow at all. Actually, very busy. They just don't want to pay Guild rates. They don't mind if things get sloppy.” Greef explains leaning back in his seat and gesturing to the bar quickly bringing him a drink. The Mandalorian watches him twitching to get off this planet and onto the next bounty and reward,

“What’s your highest bounty?”

“Not much. Five thousand.” Greef recalled his highest payment for all those bounties, the price bothering the hunter,

“That won't even cover fuel these days.”

The Guild member nods slowly before one job he forgot to mention comes to mind, “Hmm. There is one job.”

“Let’s see the puck.” The hunter holds out his hand ready to start.

Greef shook his head taking a sip of his drink, “No puck. Face to face. Direct commission. Deep pocket.” This was not a normal occurrence, bounties always had a puck or something for the bounty hunter. The Mandalorian could only think who was so important to whoever wanted them dead or alive.

“Underworld?” Mando questioned,

“All I know is no chain code” Greef pulls out a chit card placing it on the table between the two of them taunting the hunter the offer not standing for long, “Do you want the chit or not?”

Arriving at the meeting with the client he hadn’t expected the empire to lead to a standoff with four remnant stormtroopers' blasters aimed at him and his weapons aimed at them. A hand stops the soldiers and they all lower their weapons the bounty hunter slowly lowering his but not putting it away. “He also said you were expensive. Very expensive,” The client gestured to him to sit, “Please sit.” The Mandalorian sits down hesitant his hand twitching at his gun when the client grabs something out of view bringing out something wrapped in cloth. Unwrapping it the shining metal glisters in the light the same metal that decorated the hunter’s body. The staple of the Mandalorians is a metal of high value and meaning.

”Beskar?” He says looking at the metal brick surprised to see such a large piece of it.

“Go ahead. It’s real.” The client allows the hunter to inspect the ingot. “This is only a down payment. I have a case of beskar waiting for you upon delivery of the assets.” The client explains his payment being something large until the words acknowledged him

“Assets?” He was only expecting one bounty for this underground work.

The client nods his wrinkled hands folding together in front of him before waving a hand at the hunter, “I’m sure a man of your skill will have no trouble collecting two assets.”

“Alive.” The otherwise silent doctor pops in standing to the side with a data pad filled with whatever information,

“Yes. Alive. Although, I acknowledge that bounty hunting is a complicated profession. This being the case, proof of termination is also acceptable for a lower fee.” The imperial man says and the doctor looks at him in shock, “That is not what we agreed upon.”

“I’m simply being pragmatic.” The client gives his final word before turning back to the silent hunter.

“Let’s see the puck,” He says needing more information before he could decide whether to take the offer. He was going to take it, the second the beskar was brought out he knew it was going to be in better hands once it was returned to the Mandalorians.

The man frowns looking away, “I’m afraid discretion dictates a less traditional agreement. We can only offer you a tracking fob.” The doctor hands the Mandalorian a tracking fob.

“What’s the chain code?’ He asked still prying for information.

“We can only provide the last four digits for each.” The client says.

“Their age? That’s all you can give me?” The Mandalorian says growing more frustrated.

“Yes. One of them is 50 years old while the other is 17 years old. We can also give you the last reported positional data. Between that and the fob, a man of your skill should make short work of this.” The client smirks at the bounty hunters' conflict as he gets up and moves to leave. “The beskar belongs back into the hands of a Mandalorian. It is good to restore the natural order of things after a period of such disarray, don't you agree?”

His decision was made then.

The air was cool on your skin as you left your room slipping out through the window to avoid your father asleep just in the other room. It was calming walking through the silent town, but it quickly changes when hands grab you. One quickly covering your mouth to muffle your screams, you kick your leg back hearing a sickening crack as they roar in pain biting on the hand covering your mouth the metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. You try to run off knowing you couldn’t overpower the men, you go to scream out when something collides against your head and you crumble to the ground.

That had been about four weeks ago when you later woke up in a room chained to the wall having no idea where you were and even if you were on your planet. It had been about a week into your captivity when you gained a companion. A creature that must have been an infant had joined you. So you watched the child giving portions of your food since he needed it more and watched over him. Silences were common in the room you were being held in other than the babbles and sounds coming from the babe. Until a loud pop sounded muffled before another, you couldn’t tell what it was until the sounds of screams came with them. Gunfire…

The door burst open and two men enter one unlocking your chains and the other grabbing the child’s carrier bringing you out of the darkroom into a larger one. The sounds of fighting and gunfire grow louder out here, “It’s only two of them out there, why won’t they die!” The one with the child growls out pushing his carrier against a pile of crates the harsh movement making him cry out.

“Stop it. You’re going to hurt it.” You push the man away from the child. He whips around smacking you across the face it stings in pain. You glare at him and spit the blood that pools in your mouth right in his face. He wipes the red off him before quickly lifting his rifle slamming the butt of the gun against your temple and you crumple to the ground.

The fight on the outside is long over and almost unfair to the mercenaries, the doors leading into the building explode open with the heavy weapon the bounty hunter uses. The rubble falls around the doorway created as he enters followed by a droid, IG-11. It’s silent as he stalks inside, with quick reflexes as a lone enemy jumps out and is quickly shot down.

“Anyone else?” The bounty hunter calls out as the droid looks around before down at the tracking fob it had.

“The tracking fob is still active. My sensors indicate that there are two life forms present.” The Mandalorian scans the room coming upon a girl unconscious bleeding from the temple and an egg-shaped container behind her. The tracking fob beeps louder in the direction of both the girl and the container as the hunter cautiously opens it.

“Wait. They said 50 years old.” He looks confused at what was supposedly the 50-year-old asset but looked like a child.

“Species age differently unlike the female. Perhaps it could live many centuries.” IG-11 explains as the child slowly emerges from the blanket, this tiny green creature looks up at him stretching its hand out to him, “Sadly, we’ll never know.” The IG unit starts to raise its gun but the Mandalorian stops it.

“No. We’ll bring them in alive.” He says commanding the droid to stop and ignore its protocol.

“The commission was quite specific. The assets were to be terminated.” IG raises its two weapons aimed at the child and the girl.

A shot is fired, and the IG unit drops to the ground shot down by the Mandalorian. He puts his blaster back in his holster walking up to the child as it continues to look up at him in wonder. He shifts his gaze from the child to the girl, those two were meant to be his bounties.

Your head stung with pain as you were jostled around in a constant up-down movement. Blinking your eyes adjusting to the bright light, were you dead? Was this heaven? Your vision finally focuses and you see a helmet the visor a T-shape. Fight or flight kicks in as your fist collides with the underside of the mask hitting him straight in the jaw. Not expecting the attack he stumbles still holding you and you push yourself out of his arms. You hit the ground the sand cushioning your fall as you scramble to stand holding out the blade you swiped from his boot. A blaster is pointed at you but you keep your grip on the knife fierce ready to fight. You take in the man before you dressed in armor and weapons, but what had your eyes widen was the design of the helmet. Once you had seen before…Mandalorian.

“Who are you? Where the hell am I?” You hiss out holding the blade with two hands as he has his blaster trained on you before he holsters it holding his hands out showing he was of no harm.

“You're on Arvala-7.” The man says you were slightly taken back that he spoke your language and not Mando’a but you still weren’t taking your chances.

“Who are you?” You glare the knife still pointed at him trying to figure out who he was through the helmet.

“I can’t tell you that but it’s either you trust me or let even more people who aren’t willing to have you alive.” Those mercenaries only kept you alive for whatever reason until this stranger showed up including the child. Your eyes widen…the child!

“Where is it?!” You demand, looking around for the child. You remember the hit of the gun before you were knocked out.

“Where’s what?” “The child.” You see behind him was the container holding him, the creature looking at both of you. “Oh thank the maker, I spent the last few weeks watching over it.” You sigh in relief and the man nods before walking off the carrier following after him,

“We should get going.” You rush after him pocketing the knife in your belt and coming beside him.

“You’re a Mandalorian…I’ve never met a Mandalorian before,” You speak up glancing at the silent man, “What’s your name, you never gave one.” He barely looks at you before walking ahead so you were behind him making you scoff, “asshole.” You mumble under your breath dragging your feet through the sand. He continues silently despite the heavy armor that should be making noise as you all enter the base of a canyon. “So do you ever take off your helmet at all? Like even when you slee-”

His hand juts out making you run into it and you glare up at him from the corner of your eye you see his hand slowly reaching for his blaster. An ambush of Trandoshans wielding axes rushing towards you, one swings its axe at you when he shoves you out of the way. You hit the ground pushing yourself up from the sand when one of the bounty hunters wraps his arms around your waist lifting you up into the air and dragging you from the group.

“Hey! Let…me go!” You thrash in his arms twisting and turning in his grip trying to break free, the loud sound of a gunshot right by your head making your ears ring as the both of you hit the ground. You scramble away seeing the blaster wound in his chest and you look back seeing the Mandalorian holding his blaster pointed at you. He lets out a hiss of pain the metal of one of the axes slicing his arm, he prepares to counter when a blade is protruding from the Trandoshan’s hand. He looks back seeing you holding your hand out having thrown the knife before the both of you are attacked by more hunters. You can see one heading towards the child with your hunter busy fighting off two of them. Looking around having lost your weapon when you grab one of the axes the weight is heavy in your grasp. It’s right before the child when you swing the axe the weight and momentum striking its side a screech coming from it. It swings its own axe out and you block it with the handle of the blade the clang of metal and sparks ring through the air. Kicking out at its side making it cry out in pain you swing the axe digging it deep into its arm. You struggle to pull the weapon free and with its own weapon coming at you, you can only dodge letting go of the blade. If you had been a second late it would have been worse than the blade slicing across your cheek. It raises its axe to bring it down on you when it's shot crumbling to the ground. Looking up seeing the Mandalorian blaster still smoking as you quickly move away from the dead enemies to the hunter and the child.

“Thanks.” You breathe out your hand touching your cheek wincing from the pain pulling back and seeing red. He nods his attention turns to the ground where there is a blinking tracking fob.

“We need to keep moving.” He says the three of you quickly leave the canyon and the remains of the fight. Dusk had long settled the beating sun leaving only the cool night feeling nice on your sweaty skin. Out in the dunes camp had been set up the fire blazing on the open sands, your gaze taking in the embers floating into the air. You were used to this much sand and the heat hadn’t bothered you but it felt foreign now. You were somewhere maybe not in your same system anymore you hadn’t even been off your planet before. Your home was all you knew of and now you had people after you trying to kill you. A hiss of pain comes from the bounty hunter beside you trying to sear his wound up but unable to with the angle of the cut. You move closer trying to help when a blaster is pointed at you making you put your hands up.

“I was just trying to help.” You say slowly sitting back in your spot as he keeps his gaze training on you before slowly putting his weapon away and continuing to fix himself up.

“I don’t need your help.” He says and you roll your eyes turning away and looking at the small creature sitting on a pile of blankets from his carrier his round eyes watching the flames dance in front of him. “Hey.” The hunter calls out and you turn looking over at him in his hands bacta spray and bandages. You scoff looking away and wrapping your arms around your knees.

“Hey!” He calls out moving closer and you turn more away from him, “You need to get patched up or it’s going to get infected.” You look over your shoulder glaring at him.

“I don’t need your help.” You mock his own words back at him and you could feel the annoyance and anger coming through his helmet aimed at you. You let out a shriek when his hand wraps around your arm spinning you around to face him, his gloved hand grasping your jaw holding you in place when you try moving back, “Let me go.” You push against his chest but he doesn’t budge.

He glares at you and you could feel the cool gaze staring back at the metal helmet making your movements come to a stop. He nods before beginning to clean the cut on your cheek before moving to one of your temples. You hiss out in pain when he presses too hard on the wound putting the bacta spray on.

“Would’ve been worse if you didn’t dodge,” He comments when you glare at him in pain, he continues tending to the injury, “Where did you learn to fight like that.” The stoic voice asks finishing pulling back and you bring your hand up touching the bandaged cheek and temple.

“Tatooine,” You say picturing your home the dunes of sands, the shouts of Tuskan Raiders, the wind in your hair on the speeder bikes, and the dual suns that made the perfect sunsets on the best days. “You fight to survive when you don’t got much…I have..had a pretty good teacher back home.” You correct yourself, were you ever going to go home or was this bounty hunter just going to cart you off to whoever wanted you? He nods looking down at his chest plate to fix it. Silence fills the quiet night as you look forward poking at the fire to keep it alive before glancing at the Mandalorian before you speak up.

“I want to thank you…for everything,” You say and you see him pause in his fixing, “You could’ve killed me and the child but you didn’t. I’ve only heard stories about your kind so I don’t know if it’s a religious thing or you're just different.” You quiet feeling embarrassed saying all that but one thought had been plaguing your mind.

“Are you…are you going to bring us home? The child and I?” The mask of his hides his face and anything you would be able to tell, his body language didn’t reveal anything and you couldn’t see his emotions through the metal.

“Yeah, kid…you should try to get some sleep.” He responds, his words bringing hope to believe this stranger. Fixing the child in his carrier asleep for a while before settling against the cool sands the night sky and the stars looking down at you. Whispers of sleep and dreams lull you and the Mandalorian hears a brief mumble from you,

“My name’s Y/n.”

The morning soon arrived and you were up following the hunter to what you assumed was his ship. Walking over the ridge there was his ship but it was getting dismantled by Jawas, creatures you were familiar with on Tatooine. Their large sandcrawler beside the ship loading the scraps.

“Dammit,” The bounty hunter huffs pulling his rifle from his back and laying down on the ridge looking down on the ship and taking aim.

“Wait what are you doing?” Your words are cut off as a beam is sent out hitting one of the jawas disintegrating it. The death of one of its kind sends them into a frenzy trying to run back to the ship as he continues to take out more. He quickly stands sliding down the ridge chasing after them as you and the child follow after him.

“You’re not going to be able to chase after a sandcrawler!” You yell out as he runs after it not before shouting back at you,

“Stay there!” He orders before you freeze watching him disappear with the sandcrawler leaving the two of you by the ship. It had been a while and he hadn’t returned neither did the sandcrawler.

“Kriff come on!” You say setting off after the bounty hunter the child following after you. Following the tracks of the large fortress before you stumble open a body laying along the ground recognizing the Mandalorian helmet. “Oh, maker please don’t be dead.” You say hovering over him, you debate taking off his helmet to see if he was breathing or hand a pulse. Your hands reach for the edge of the helmet ready to pull it off when he shoots up the strong metal colliding with your face making you fall back clutching your nose.

“Kriff! Dammit, that kriffing hurts!” You blink away the tears putting light touches against your nose trying to feel if it was broken. His helmet had to be built with a strong metal cause that hurt a lot. The hunter sits up groaning from his own pain of being electrocuted and kicked off a sandcrawler, “You’re a real asshole, stupid bounty hunter, stupid helmet.” You ramble off pushing yourself to stand your nose throbbing in pain and your head ringing.

He groans pushing himself to stand, “If it’s not broken then you’re fine.” He slings his rifle over his shoulder his body sore as the three of you return to his ship. You and the child sit against some rocks watching the hunter taking in the damage to the ship, he returns from inside the ship and you give him a look. He ignores it and begins to walk back into the desert. Having no choice but to follow, you walked through the dunes and plains the sun beating down on you. How was he not sweating in that armor? Your travels had the sun setting behind you and in the distance, you could see a structure. Growing closer you see it’s a moisture farm and there was a man fixing something.

“This is supposed to fix your ship,” You comment and he doesn’t acknowledge you walking over to the man who looks surprised to see him. You quickly learn the man’s name to be Kuiil as he brought you into his home feeding you the sun had long set the night here.

The Mandalorian stands beside Kuiil the two watching the child watching a frog with much interest chasing after it.

“I thought you were dead.” Kuiil says to Mando as they both watched the child playing with the frog, “These are what was causing all the fuss?” The two look away from the child to the girl, you were leaned against a crate a knife in your hand twisting it in your grasp. You meet his gaze glaring at him making Kuiil laugh. Mando looks down at his boot seeing his blade gone. How did he not notice you took it?

“She certainly doesn’t like you,” Kuiil says and the bounty hunter is silent watching you before turning away.

“I think that one is a child.” He says the child grabs the frog that he was playing with. Kuiil nods looking at the two bounties, “It is better for them to be delivered alive then,”

The bounty hunter shakes his head the problem coming up, “My ship has been destroyed. I’m trapped here.” He had been close to his fight with the Jawas before they gained the upper hand

“Stripped. Not destroyed. The Jawas steal. They don’t destroy.” Kuiil explains and the bounty hunter scoffs,

“Stolen or destroyed- makes no difference to me.” He retorted, frowning remembering what those little cloaked freaks did to his ship, “They’re protected by their crawling fortress. There is no way to recover the parts.”

“You can trade,” Kuiil suggested and the hunter looks at him like he grew three heads.

“With Jawas? Are you out of your mind?”

The older man nods his idea final, “I will take you to them. I have spoken.” They hear fussing and the child is shoving the frog into his mouth to begin devouring.

“Hey! Spit that out,” Mando called out and the Child swallowed the frog whole making you gag as you watch the whole interaction. The night had been spent traveling you had gained a cloak to protect yourself from the rain and by the time it was the day you had arrived at the sandcrawler.

Kuiil climbs off his blurrg leaving the three of you to watch as he greets the Jawas in their language. He turns looking back at the three of you mainly at the bounty hunter, “They really don’t like you for some reason.”

“Well, I did disintegrate a few of them.” The hunter brings up and you could hear the angry noises coming from the cloaked people. His hand instinctively goes to his rifle as a fight almost brews. Kuiil holds out his arm giving a pointed look to the hunter, “You need to drop your rifle.”

“I’m a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion.” He refuses.

“Your religion is about to get us killed.” You hiss at the bounty hunter who glares back at you.

“Then you’re not getting your parts back.” Kuiil says giving the final ultimatum. The Mandalorian sighs putting his rifle down and climbing off the sled. “And the blaster.” He sighs removing that as well. You go to follow him when he points at you.

“Stay.” He says and your jaw drops, you weren't some animal, “And don’t touch my stuff you’re not doing that again,” The memory of him forcing you to return the blade is still fresh in your head. Maybe he should be more careful of his items. You roll your eyes sitting back down with the child watching the conversation.

Kuiil listens to the Jawa before turning to the Mandalorian, “They will trade all the parts for the beskar.” He shakes his head blowing up in anger pointing at them,

“I’m not gonna trade anything. These are my parts. They stole them from me.” He says “They, they….belong to me!” He speaks Jawa though it’s truly bad and you stifle your laughter.

“You speak terrible Jawa. You sound like a Wookiee.” One of the Jawa says and he loses his temper swiping his hand out with his flamethrower making them all yell out.

“You understand this?!” “No! Whoa, easy, easy.” Kuiil quickly diffused the fight before speaking to the Jawa, “He is Mandalorian. He cannot give you his beskar armor. What else may he trade?”

You hadn’t noticed some Jawas coming by the sled until they were inspecting the child’s carrier and poking you with their staff.

“Hey! Stop it get away.” You stand up shouting at them in Jawa alerting the bounty hunter who stands up.

“Get away from them!” He shouts and they scatter away from the two of you.

“There must be something else,” Kuiil says and the Jawas turn to discuss amongst themselves before turning around.

“We will require The Egg. Bring us The Egg.” It says and your hunter looks confused, “The Egg? What Egg?” You were confused as well as Kuiil groaned facepalming as the Jawas continue to chant.

The Jawas allow you all to travel by sandcrawler before you arrive at a series of rocky formations. The three of you minus Kuiil dismount and begin to walk through the rock formations toward an open clearing leading to a cave. “Shouldn’t I have a weapon in case you fail or something?” You bring up and he glares at you ignoring your request leaving you and the child to watch him venture inside the cave. It’s silent for a bit before a loud roar comes from the cave and out comes the Mandalorian and a large mudhorn. You watch him fire blast at the creature before reloading his weapon and the creature charges throwing him against the mud.

“Not doing so well!” You shout at him which draws the attention of the beast who charges at you and the child, “Crap!” You shout rolling out of the way mud covers your knees and arms as the child’s carrier dodges in the other direction. The mudhorn turns ready to charge again when flames unleash burning it. It tries retreating back to its den but he latches onto it with a grappling line around the horns. Shaking him aside attacking with said horns and hooves to the ground. It goes to stop down at him you rushing forward when the creature suspends in midair. A feeling you hadn’t felt in a while covers your skin as your hand whips around to look at the child its tiny hand held out. You hear the sound of the blade driving into flesh but your attention is focused on the small creature.

The Mandalorian slowly approaches the child seeing the look of slight fear on your face looking down at the child before it collapses in its cradle asleep. His gaze shifts to yours, your face seems plain but he could see the fear in your eyes that you were trying to hide. He turns walking back into the cave and returning with the egg. You had arrived back at the sandcrawler with the egg the Jawas rejoiced taking it and cutting it open devouring the insides.

“Mando!” Kuiil calls out to the bounty hunter.

“I’m surprised you waited?” Mando says and Kuiil nods looking at him,

“I’m surprised you took so long,” Kuiil says and the Jawas quickly prepare the sled with the parts of his ship. Then you were back off to the ship. You were sat in the back with the parts of the child’s carrier resting beside you as you look out on the horizon. You could hear their conversation but chose to ignore it, your mind more focused on what you had witnessed. You hadn’t imagined it you had truly seen it with your own eyes. That feeling that rushed over you had opened up something that had been locked up in fear. As you look down at this child you could feel a connection form.

The child was still asleep when you arrived at the dismantled ship, “There is no way we're gonna get this to work without a full maintenance facility. This is gonna take days to fix.” Mando says looking over the wrecked ship.

“If you care to help it might go faster. There is much work to do.” Kuiil says ready to begin the repairs. The night continues over you all as the two repairs the ship. Your head is deep in wires in the cockpit the fusion cutter grasp in your mouth as you moved cables around. Maker, this whole ship was a mess, did he purposely want a ship that was slow? As you go to move another wire, you feel hands grab your legs pulling out from the open panel and you look up to see Mando glaring down at you.

“Why are you touching my ship?” He growls out, were you tampering with it to make this harder for him? You scoff pushing him away from you and crawling back to the open panel.

You ramble off fixing the wiring but it would just be easier to get an entirely new ship. “More like fixing, like how could you allow it to get like this! Your hyperdrive is so outdated that makes you two times slower than most ships. Then there are the core processes and your sensor systems dying on you. Your better off selling this hunk of junk and getting something that’s not Pre-Galactic, hey!” His hands grab your legs again pulling you out of the panel but you were already done. He pulls you up to your feet pushing you down to a seat.

“Stop touching things,” He snatches the fusion cutter, “Just don’t even move.” He glares at you which you equally return. He steps back before turning his back from you and heading down out of the cockpit. You cross your arms settling in, maker what an asshole.

Mando sighs the last of the repairs are finished having repaired or fully restored the ship’s systems and parts. He turns looking down at Kuiil, “I can't thank you enough. Please allow me to give you a portion of the reward.” He says and the man shakes his head.

“I cannot accept. You are my guest, and I am therefore in your service.” He shakes his head and Mando nods looking at the ship,

“I could use a crew member of your ability. And I can pay handsomely.” He offers but Kuiil refuses.

“I am honored. But I have worked a lifetime to finally be free of servitude.” Kuiil says and Mando nods moving towards his ship as Kuiil mounts his blurrg. “I understand. Then all I can offer is my thanks.” Mando says.

“And I offer mine. Thank you for bringing peace to my valley and good luck with those two. May they survive and bring you a handsome reward. I have spoken.” Kuiil watches as the Mandalorian enters his ship sitting in the pilot's seat his two bounties beside him, the child was asleep in his cradle and you were leaning against the wall in your chair your eyes closed. He fires up the engines of the Razor Crest is roaring to life as he takes off leaving the planet behind.

To Nevarro.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #clan of three series #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #mando x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x jedi!reader #din djarin x teen!reader

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kaminocasey · 10 months

Text

Joyride Part 2

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

Pairing: Hunter x F!Reader

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

WC: 4.5K

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

Part One │ Taglist Form

Six months ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Present, Lower Levels of Coruscant

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Proof?” Cad asks.

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

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

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

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

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

“That true, handsome?” Cad asks Hunter.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, no worries.” You grunt.

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

“Are you alright?” He whispers.

You nod. “I’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, that checks out.” You laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I trust you.” You promise him back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing.”

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

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

“Hunter.”

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

“What are you doing?” You smile softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, yes. The surprise.” You smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can’t just say things like that to me unless you mean it.” He rests his forehead against yours.

“I do mean it, though.” You whisper. “Pull me into this fresher whenever you want and fuck me like you can’t live without this.” You clench around him and his grip on your ass tightens.

“Cyar’ika…” He pulls out slightly only to slam back into you. “That’ll be every day.”

“Then let it be every day. Every night. Every hour. Whenever.” You promise him.

With a final groan, he starts thrusting into you and you swear that you see past all of the stars in the Galaxy. This angle is something else entirely, something you’ve never had and don’t think you can live without ever again.

“So fucking good.” You whisper between pants and whimpers, the sound of skin against skin filling the small fresher so much it’s making you wetter than before.

When his hips slow against yours, you look at him, confused, and he chuckles, pulling your shampoo down out of the net that everyone keeps their shower stuff in so that it doesn’t get thrown around while on intense missions.

“Oh, you were serious.” You laugh.

“Dead serious.” Hunter keeps one hand ahold of you, and you genuinely didn’t know he was so strong.

He flips up the cap and pours the shampoo over your head a bit, the aroma of fresh fruit filling both of your noses. He closes his eyes, clearly enjoying the scent as he caps the bottle shut and puts it back. When he opens his eyes, he starts gently thrusting while simultaneously massaging the shampoo into your hair.

“This… is new.” You smile, softly.

“Good new?”

“Mmhm. You do this with all your partners?” You chuckle.

“Only you.” He admits, while still soaping up your hair, making sure to get all of it. “I’ve never been this… personal with any other… partners. In fact… It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone.”

“Since before Omega?” You guess.

He nods, pulling you under the water to rinse out your hair, still massaging your head. It feels incredible. You’ve never been given this much attention before, though, so you’re almost not sure what else to say.

He stills, still inside you, and you look at him softly.

“There was just never… time, I suppose? No one ever caught my eye either.” He explains, his voice so soft, so gentle that you feel like you’re almost in a trance. “Until we met you.”

Your cheeks go warm under his stare as you realize the weight of what he’s telling you.

“Anyway.” He clears his throat, awkwardly, as he reaches up for your conditioner.

You watch each other as he conditions your hair, smiling ever so slightly at the understanding between the two of you. You’re it, for each other. There’s no one else.

When he finishes conditioning your hair, he rinses it out just as he did before. And then, you reach up for his shampoo, pouring a bit into your hand, rubbing it between your hands before reaching up into his locks. He groans at the feel of your fingers against his scalp.

“I swear I can feel how tense you are just in your scalp.” You smile, making him laugh.

As you get his hair nice and soapy, you can feel his cock grow harder inside of you, you think. When you tug slightly on his hair, his eyes flutter shut and he groans, pushing further into you.

“You like that?” You murmur, seductively.

He nods, lips parted. “Yeah.”

You guide him under the water a bit and let it run through the soap and your fingers, making it travel down both your bodies, and you realize his shampoo doesn’t have a scent to it.

“It doesn’t smell like anything.” You murmur.

He nods again. “A lot of scents are overwhelming.”

“Oh… I’m sorry if mine-”

“No. It’s just me, being stuck with my own hair 24/7, you know? I love the way you smell. My favorite smell.” He assures you, grinning. “In fact… you’re my favorite everything to my senses… My favorite smell, my favorite taste.” He kisses you. “My favorite touch.” He runs his hand up to cup your jaw. “My favorite sight.” His eyes run down your body and a shiver runs up your spine. “And your laugh is genuinely my favorite sound. I’d do anything to hear it for the rest of my life.”

“Oh… Hunter.” You get an unfamiliar lump in your throat and you struggle to look him in the face, but he pulls your face back toward his.

“I love you. You definitely don't have to say it back. I just want you to know.” He rests his forehead against yours again. “I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like I hated you.”

It’s right this very second that it’s obvious to you. Why it wasn’t obvious to you before, you don’t know…

“I love you too.” You grin.

His eyes widen for a fraction of a second, clearly surprised that you said it back. But then his lips find yours and you're pressed back up against the cool wall. Both yours and Hunter’s hands are in each other’s hair and something changes between you two. Something passionate and all consuming.

This is only the second time fucking but it feels like the hundredth or more. It’s obvious that the two of you are more than whatever this is the start of. Is there a word for something more than a partner?

Hunter’s cock pushes into you repeatedly, coaxing the most perfect moans from your lips. It’s obvious that the desperation between you is bubbling up, threatening to push you over your edge. You reach down and rub your clit, wanting so badly to cum for him again.

How is he reaching into you like this? How does he already know your body so well?

“Fuck…” You groan, your head resting back against the wall and Hunter’s eyes never leave your fingers between the two of you.

“That feel good?” He whispers and you can only nod, your words failing you. “You gonna cum on my cock, mesh’la?”

You whimper and nod, pathetically.

“Atta girl. Cum for me.” Hunter breathes and you curse again, loudly this time, as you clench around him, cumming even harder than earlier and you bury your face in his neck.

His grip on you tightens as your pussy coaxes his own release from him, filling you up so full that his cum slides back out over his cock and down into the floor of the shower.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.” He kisses your neck. “In fact, I know I won’t.”

“You say that now. Just wait til we get into our first real argument as a couple.” You tease.

“Oh, is that what we are?” He teases back and you playfully swat him, making him laugh. “So Cid was right, I guess…”

He said your laugh was his favorite sound but you’re pretty sure that his laugh is the best sound in the Galaxy. It’s so strange that this is how your night ended. But you’re definitely not complaining.

“We don’t have to put a label on it if you don’t want to...” You tell him, brushing your fingers across his cheek.

“Well, I’m all yours and I’d prefer it if you were all mine.” He smiles.

Your heart does an entire flip at his confession. You’d prefer it that way, too.

“Couple just seems so… I don’t know. Small? We’ve been through so much together… And your family feels like my own…” You babble slightly, unsure if you even make any sense.

“We clones have a word like that… that’s more than a ‘couple’. Riduur. It’s like a partner or spouse. But it means more.” He explains. “You mean more…”

You grin up at him as he pulls out of you and puts you down gently, still holding onto you. The both of you stay in comfortable silence, between kisses, as you wash each other’s bodies. Your eyes continuously roam over his tattoos and he smirks down at you as he notices.

“I like you like this.” You shrug.

He hums, caging you against the shower wall. “I bet you do. Once we get back to Ord Mantell, I’ll show you just how much I like having you like this too.”

Hunter’s lips brush against yours and then all of sudden, he’s guiding you out of the shower and wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

“So, what’s the surprise?” You ask him.

“You’ll see.” He winks, drying off quickly to go grab a pair of fresh clothes.

You do the same, settling on a sweater and leggings, going for comfort. He looks at you the same way he looked at you in that dress earlier and the realization that he truly does love you, sets in and you know right this very second, you couldn’t go back to what you were before even if you wanted to.

“Mesh’la.” He kisses you on the forehead before settling into the pilot’s seat.

You settle into the co-pilot seat next to him as he starts up the ship flying it out of the garage and up the tubal fly lane back to the surface. When he reaches over to take your hand, you look between the two of you at your intertwined hands.

“I could get used to this.” He squeezes your hand.

“Too bad Tech would never let you.” You chuckle.

He chuckles and leans over to kiss your hand. “I just meant this… You know? Us.”

When he reaches the hyper lanes, he takes off toward the west. You look at him curiously and he winks. You’re still not a fan of surprises, but you don’t say anything. You just continue to smile at the handsome sergeant.

“I can feel the tension in your neck from here.” He teases you.

Within ten minutes, you see a mountainous region next to a giant body of water.

“Is that an ocean?” You let go of his hand to lean forward, looking out of the window.

He chuckles. “It is.”

“I didn’t know Coruscant had anything other than cities…” You tell him, amazed.

He brings the ship down onto the beach, and offers his hand to you when he stands up. Smiling up at him, you take it and he leads you to the hatch, opening it. As soon as it comes down, your mouth drops. You’ve never seen an ocean before.

Hunter leads you down the steps of the Marauder and you step into the sand. It’s squishier than you imagined it would be. You’re tempted to take your shoes off, but you know that with this job, there’s always the threat of some sort of danger. So you keep your shoes on for now.

Looking out at the sea, you breathe in the salty air, feeling at peace, the threat of earlier long gone from your mind.

“I overheard you talking to Echo once about how you’d never seen an ocean before.” Hunter tells you. “Once we got on the ship, I knew it’d be a perfect opportunity.”

You look at him. “Earlier back at Cid’s… you seemed like you didn’t want to go on this job with me.”

“I was just nervous, mesh’la. That’s all.” He kisses your forehead and then leans down in front of you.

Curiously, you watch him as he unlaces your boots and then slides them off your feet, sitting them on the steps of the hatch. The cool sand seeps between your toes and you can’t help but laugh.

“Feel funny?” He asks and you look up at him, nodding.

“In a good way.” You shrug.

He leads you toward the water and you look out at the sun starting to rise. It’s so beautiful here. A little piece of peace in a hellscape. You know right away, you’d like to come back here.

“How’d you find this place?” You ask him.

“Tech mentioned it during a mission here a while back. After Echo left the squad, I brought Omega here before we went back to Ord Mantell,” he tells you.

He wraps his arms around you from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder. It feels so natural like this. So easy.

You rest your hands over his. “I don’t remember that.”

“This was before you came back to Ord Mantell yourself.” He tells you. “I like it here. It’s… different from Kamino’s raging seas… It’s calmer…” Hunter murmurs, looking out at the sea at the rising sun.

“I’m sorry I was such a raging sea in your life before…” You take his hand and bring it to your lips.

“You weren’t a raging sea.” He chuckles, his voice low and calming as you both watch the sunset. “You’re the sunrise. Fiery, bright, beautiful… and something to look forward to seeing every morning.”

Your chest tightens at his sweet words. You didn’t know before today how much of a romantic Hunter is. You love it, though.

“That was really cheesy.” You laugh, pulling away so you can wrap your arms around his waist and look up at him.

“Doesn’t make it less true.” He kisses you.

The sun glows against his tan skin and you can’t help but be even more enamored. How did you not allow yourself to appreciate his beauty before? How did you not allow yourself to just fall in love sooner?

“Do you want to camp out here today?” He offers.

“Really?” You ask, softly, with hope.

“Yeah. I’ll send a transmission to the others and update them about Cad Bane and tell them we’re just exhausted from running into trouble.” He smirks.

“They’re definitely going to be suspicious.” You smirk back.

“Just Echo.” He shrugs, with a chuckle.

That’s true. But you think Echo already knew about your feelings before you did.

“When I get back, we’ll set up camp. I’ll make you something to eat and then we’ll take a nap. And maybe when we wake up, I’ll take you swimming.” He promises, letting go of you with one last kiss. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You sit down in the sand. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He takes one last look at you in the glow of the sunrise and he nearly says “Fuck it.” and just let the squad figure it out on their own. Except he knows Omega will be worried, so he tears his eyes off of you to go send a transmission to them. You sit and bite your lip, trying to keep the excited giggle inside as you think about what a future with Hunter could be like. It’s still crazy to think that you started off the night by arguing with him… and now… you’re on some sort of date. And… you’ve figured out you’re in love. What a wild turn of events.

TAGLIST: @twistedstitcher27 @misogirl828 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @quigonswife8 @idlenesses @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz @burningfieldof-clover

#tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #joyride fic #tbb #the bad batch #hunter bad batch x reader #hunter bad batch

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lincolndjarin · 9 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter three : the smitten paladin (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 4.6k

summary : reader does some reading

warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy, masturbation

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

You’re starting to think the planet isn’t the reason you’re so hot all the time.

You had woken up this morning feeling a bit better than you thought you’d be, your stomach is full of butterflies but you're still standing and considering the night you had you’re gonna take that as a win. Elaine and Lysa both seemed to sense that you were back in slightly better spirits and Lysa doesn’t bother to ask as she fetches you a dress that isn’t blue. You want to protest when she emerges from the closet with a simple green gown but you bite your tongue. Maybe he’ll like it.

You don’t care. Why should you care? Why the hell are you already sweating? Nothing has changed. He did one nice thing for you, so you forgive him. But you still don’t care.

Well… you care enough to ask them to leave your hair down, which they do. And you care enough to ask them to leave your face alone. (Save for some thin golden eyeliner.) You dismiss the girls with a thank you and give yourself just a moment alone.

You’re going to have a normal day. Not a great day, and not a good day. Just a normal day. You are going to go to the library today and you’re going to read. And you are going to talk to the Mandalorian. You are going to patch things up. Oh gods, what if he doesn’t want to patch things up? What if he thinks you’re just some unstable, bellyaching princess? Stop caring what he thinks. Normal day. Just go out there before he comes in here.

You take the book he had given you and you tuck it under your arm as you go out to greet him. As expected, he is there, just outside the door, and as expected he doesn’t speak first, so you do it instead.

“Good morning, Mando.”

He takes his time, observing your mood, his visor trained on you. You suddenly feel feverish.

“Morning, princess.” His voice is careful, almost like he’s testing the waters. You don’t know how to tell him you aren’t mad anymore, or that you’re okay now. You’re pretty sure both are true. So you just head towards the library.

“Come on sparkles.” Is all you say as you start walking. The silence isn’t necessarily comfortable but at least it feels bearable. Once there you settle into your familiar positions, you, seated in the reading nook, him, pulling up a chair across from you. You hopelessly want to say something but you don’t want to come off as desperate, and honestly you’re so anxious at this point you’re worried you’ll throw up if you try to speak. So you take out the book, making sure he can see the cover. Hoping he takes it as a peace offering, you pick it up from chapter two, where you’d left off after last night. And that is how you stay for several hours.

You read, flipping through the chapters of what ends up being a pretty corny book. It’s a predictable tale of forbidden love, the daughter of a blacksmith falling in love with a knight, blah blah blah, a little dull but entertaining enough to keep your attention for the most part. So much so that you’re able to completely forget that your every move is being watched.

Almost.

Because you get to chapter six, and suddenly, the book is… raunchier than you expected it to be.

And it’s sweltering in the library out of nowhere and you’re pretty sure you can’t blame Naboo this time.

You’re hyper aware of him now.

That he’s watching you. Well he’s always watching you, always has been, but now you can’t stop thinking about it because you’re sitting here, reading porn, and he’s sitting there, watching you.

You should close the book, take a break, get some water.

But you don’t.

Because suddenly the book is kind of good. For some reason you’re suddenly engrossed by the story of Oskar and Dorthea. That’s what you tell yourself. That you are captivated by the storytelling, not the way Oskar’s large hands are currently clutching Dorthea’s heaving bosom. You wonder if Oskar is wearing gloves when he does it. You should stop reading.

You can’t do this.

But… you have been neglecting certain urges of yours since arriving on Naboo. And now it’s been over three weeks and to say that you’re pent up would be putting it lightly.

So what’s the harm in reading something a little risqué? It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong, after all life as a newlywed wasn't exactly going the way you thought it would, so maybe this would help relieve a little bit of the stress that you’re very obviously suffering from at this point. So you allow yourself to read on, and everything is fine until she starts taking off his armor, because you can see a certain armor wearing nuisance sitting just over the top of your book. You start imagining it before you can stop yourself and the all too familiar heat washes over you.

This is the part where you remind yourself to stop.

Or…

You could indulge, just this once. There’s nothing wrong with that, an innocent little fantasy. It will help you enjoy your book more if you imagine the characters more clearly. And it’s so easy after that, to imagine Oskar the paladin in Beskar, funnily enough he really does remind you of Mando. He’s sarcastic and he’s witty but he is also rather gentle with the blacksmith's daughter when he needs to be.

He’s also quite rough with her when he needs to be.

You can’t help but wonder if Mando is similar to Oskar in that regard as well.

Okay you definitely can’t do this.

Unless of course you’re thinking about Oskar. There’s nothing wrong with that. He isn’t real. You can fantasize about him and it would be perfectly acceptable. You should do that instead. Fantasize about the not real character in your book and not on the very real Mandalorian sitting several feet away from you.

Just for a minute. Just to help relieve some of the tension that has been building in your body for weeks now. This is the smart and healthy thing to do, lest it spiral completely out of control. This is a good thing, this will dissipate the fog that has been clouding your judgment.

So you think about Oskar. Just Oskar. Stare at the pages of your book and think about Oskar. Tall, dark, and handsome Oskar.

He’s probably downright barbaric with it. Probably takes what he wants, he’s such a jackass. You bet he gives it just as hard as he takes it though, that overconfident prick probably loves it when you just fall to pieces for him.

Not you.

Dorthea.

Not him.

Oskar.

Think about Oskar.

Is he vocal? He’s always so quiet but when he does talk it’s like he can’t shut up. You get the sense that he likes feeling smarter than you. Or whoever it is you’re imaging in this scenario. He’d probably be just as rude in the bedroom. Just absolutely wreck you and then call you sweet names and his words would be kind and warm but he would use that condescending tone he uses when he knows he’s winning, and he’s always winning. You hate that he’s always winning, maybe you should come up with some rehearsed comebacks. Or would that be lame? He’d probably see right through that.

Oskar. You’re thinking about Oskar.

For Makers sake think about Oskar.

Oskar probably doesn’t have the patience to undo Dorthea’s complicated dresses. He probably just rips them right off of her, Oskar probably doesn’t even take the time to remove his helmet. For no reason in particular. He probably leaves it on, too consumed by his feral, untamed, need to ravage her. To devour her entirely with his hands, his stupid, pointlessly, gloved hands. He might lift the helmet enough just to bite the fingertips of the gloves to rip them off as swiftly as possible. Or maybe he’d let you- Dorthea , sink her teeth into them, make her remove them.

It’s unbearably hot now, and people sweat when they get hot.

That’s what you tell yourself when you feel a wetness pooling in a place you cannot think about right now lest you tear your dress off right here in front of him in the library to deal with it.

He could push you up against the shelves, no one ever comes in here. He could bend you over the reading nook you were currently sitting atop, or you could just join him in that chair, stare down into his visor and let him know who’s in charge.

Because you hate him. Obviously.

You want to be in charge because you know he’d detest that. You want to watch him melt in your hands, beg you for more. That’s the only reason. To see him reduced to nothing but a man, not this statue of steel and wit that he is constantly portraying. Just a man, you want to be the one thing on this entire stupid planet that makes him nothing but a man.

You definitely aren’t thinking about Oskar right now.

This doesn’t mean anything.

Stars, what has gotten into you today? You need to get laid. That’s gotta be it. Back on Hoth you were a princess without a husband, it was easy to find boys in your colony who would happily bed you whenever you desired. But not here, here you have a husband who won’t bed you, (thank the gods.) and an unbearable bodyguard who you can’t even see the face of so Maker why can’t you stop thinking about him. You could go to the market in the city, probably find a vibrator or something pretty easily. But you’re the princess of a very respected royal family now, you can’t exactly go strolling into a sex shop in broad daylight. And then of course there’s the Mando of it all. You can’t help but wonder what his reaction to that would be, would he follow you into that kind of establishment? He’d have to, right? He’s followed you everywhere else. What would he think if he saw you buying yourself a toy to keep you company? He has to know at this point that Kodo isn’t exactly satisfying your needs. He has to understand that you have needs, most people have needs. Does Mando have needs?

Does he ever think about your needs when he’s satisfying his?

Don’t.

You have to say it to yourself now.

Your face is surely bright red at this point, you consider if that’s something he likes. Does he like how easily riled up you are? How flustered you get at just the thought of him? Okay you were certainly overindulging at this point. You had to stop, there has to be a line and that line certainly is imagining what he might find attractive.

“Why don’t you try sounding it out.” He catches you off guard, unmoving as he speaks.

“What?” Maker, are you panting? Pull yourself together woman.

“I assume you’re stuck on a word, you’ve been on that page for nearly 15 minutes. Try sounding it out.”

Usually this behavior from him is the perfect thing to stop any untoward thoughts. Why isn’t it working? Why do you suddenly wanna shut him up in a completely different way?

“You’re a funny guy, have you considered being a comedian or do you just really like being a glorified babysitter?”

“I really like being a glorified babysitter.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. You loathe him.

“Lucky you.”

“Lucky me.”

At least things are okay between you two. Things seem okay. This is normal. There’s a relief to be found in knowing that your relationship, (albeit antagonistic) seems to be repaired. That is until he of course has to ruin it by opening his mouth.

“How’s the book?”

Great.

“It’s good. Thank you for returning it to me…”

“Of course.” You hope he’ll drop it but it’s him so of course he doesn’t. “What’s it about?” You can hear the faux innocence practically dripping through the modulator. There’s no way he’s actually doing this.

“I don’t think you’d like it.”

“Why not? You have no idea what I like.”

Okay this has gone from inappropriate to downright intimate. What's his end goal here? You know that he can’t seriously be doing this. Maybe he’s playing some sort of game with you? Maybe he’s playing a game of chicken, if that’s the case then you certainly aren’t going to lose, and let him win? Hell no.

“It might be a little too intense for you.” You raise a single eyebrow, his move.

“Oh really? How so?” He leans back in the chair now. For Makers sake does he have to spread his legs so obscenely wide.

“Isn’t there some kind of Mandalorian vow of celibacy?” You have no idea but you plaster a naive look on your face.

“Nothing in the creed about that, princess.” How does he make the word princess sound so vulgar? Why is there a rush of molten heat through your veins when you find out he isn’t celibate.

This doesn’t mean anything.

“Oh? But I thought you weren’t allowed to take the armor off?” This shouldn’t make you perspire as much as you are. You aren’t doing anything wrong, you’re having a conversation, it’s not like you’re cheating on your husband by having a conversation.

“Just the helmet.” You knew that, of course, but it’s still a shame. You’d love to give his mouth something to do other than taunt you.

You need to get out of this library.

“Oh.” Great quick thinking. Real impressive comeback you moron.

“So?”

“So…?”

“The book, what’s it about?”

Of course he isn’t going to drop this. You should lie, this conversation can escalate very quickly if you’re not careful and considering how close you are to sticking your hand up your dress right here in front of him, you better be careful.

“It’s a cute little love story about a girl and a knight.”

He hums softly like he’s considering something while you consider lobbing the book at his head.

“Sounds charming.” Not a good sign that you can hear the derisive tone through the modulator already. “So what are you stuck on?”

Your eyes meet the page you’d left open while you were daydreaming, you manage to keep a straight face but you’re not exactly sure how you’re gonna ad-lib your way out of this seeing as Dorthea is currently bent over a hay bale in the stables and Oskar is currently “thrusting his pulsing member into her damp maidenhood.” Maker, this book is garbage.

You know what, why not push back? He always manages to tease you into silence or reduce you to a stuttering blushing mess, so why not grab at this chance to get the upper hand? He’s not the only one who can catch people off guard.

“I wasn’t really stuck on anything… I suppose I was just trying to figure out how he fits it all in there?” You hold out the book at arms length and turn it ninety degrees. It isn’t a picture book but you still think it’s a bit funny to furrow your brow and pretend.

It works, he’s silent. Too silent, you worry you’ve gone too far again but after a few beats the modulator crackles to life once more.

“Didn’t realize the book had pictures, I must have missed them.” He crosses his arms and tilts his head ever so slightly.

Dank farrik. Why couldn’t you go one conversation without him dropping some ridiculous bomb that makes you look like an idiot, it’s like he’s dedicating his days to outsmarting you rather than protecting you. More importantly, you need to address the bantha in the room.

“You read this?” You don’t bother hiding the disbelief on your face, he already knows he’s got you so what's the point.

“You’re not the only one who’s bored, princess, when you’re alone, I’m alone with you. One of the many perks of silently standing behind you all the time. Someone had to go clean up the books you dropped, thought I’d give one of them a read.” You can’t believe this.

“So you’ve read The Smitten Paladin? ” The confusion muddling your brain right now is downright overwhelming, worst of all is now you can’t stop thinking about him reading the filth you’ve been enjoying.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell you how it ends.”

Maker, you want to chuck the book at him so bad right now, but you know it won’t stop his smug tone that fills the air between you. You need to get out, you need to be in your chambers and far, far away from the obnoxious, egotistical, self-righteous Mandalorian. So you stand up and close the book and start walking, of course he’s fluid in the way he matches you, almost like he anticipated your departure.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to spoil the happy ending.” Is all you can mutter out as you make haste towards your chambers, refusing to look at him the entire way.

This doesn’t mean anything. ✩

You cannot lock your door fast enough. You don’t bother turning on any lamps, you just collapse down on the edge of the bed and hike your dress up, no sense in wasting half an hour trying to get it off, not when there are far more important matters to attend to regarding getting off.

You waste no time shoving your hand down the front of you underwear, you’ve never been so thankful for all of the layers in your gowns because you’re soaked through your panties, you’re fingers are small and nimble so you easily swipe two digits through your folds, scooping up a bit of your wetness, back already arching as you just say fuck it and bury both fingers into your cunt.

The shaky sigh that leaves your lips is downright pornographic. Three weeks of pent up frustration all crashing down on you now as you bring your other hand up to cover your mouth, you start grinding against your palm, haphazardly doing everything in your power to put some friction against your swollen clit. Your hand can’t muffle your moans entirely as you curl your fingers against that spot that makes you sob into your wrist, you bite down onto the meat of your palm just below your thumb but you can’t stop the noises that slip from you as you curl your fingers a bit faster, thrusting them in and out of your drenched hole.

You wish your fingers were thicker, there’s barely any stretch with how small yours are, you can hit all the spots you need to push yourself towards that delectable edge but you can’t help but crave a little more. You don’t even bother trying to stop the inevitable, you’re too far gone at this point. Might as well let your mind wander to what it needs to to finish the job.

After all, it doesn’t mean anything.

How long does he wait outside your door before dismissing himself? With his helmet’s capabilities he could certainly hear what’s going on in here, is he out there right now? Eavesdropping as you fuck your own hand. Is he straining against his flight suit as he stands on the other side of that wall. Acting like he’s there to defend you when in reality he just wants to listen in, give himself to think about later. Or is he just palming himself through his trousers, not wanting to wait.

Realistically he went back to his own chambers the moment you closed the door.

You might be giving yourself a little too much credit but it’s your fantasy so you get to think whatever you need to get you there. Like why is the helmet kind of hot now? Was it always hot or are you just really horny right now? There’s just something so erotic about not being able to see his face, not being able to read his emotions behind the steel facade he puts up. He’s got so many utilities and attachments, it must be hard to get through all the layers. Might be nice if he left most of it on, took off just enough to get the job done. Does he have cuffs? If he’s an ex-bounty hunter he probably has cuffs. You know he has a blaster and a bunch of other weapons you don’t fully understand, you kind of wish someone would ambush you just so you could see him in action. Honestly he’s so terrifying to most people you’re pretty sure you might go your entire life without being attacked. He definitely has cuffs. He could storm in right now, cuff your hands above your head and finish what you started.

His fingers would probably work better than yours. You rock your hips down against your hand now as you can feel yourself slipping just the tiniest bit closer to that edge. You haven’t seen his hands but you can imagine. Even without the gloves just one of his fingers was probably as thick as the two you were working in and out of yourself currently.

Maker, with the gloves on he would probably have to work to get just one finger inside you.

You cum embarrassingly fast at the thought. It actually catches you off guard as you grind your palm against your clit just so and you’re seeing stars, soaking your already drenched panties as you withdraw your hand and collapse in a heap onto the bed, wiping your fingers off on the sheets. (You don’t sleep in this bed anyway so who cares.)

You decide it’s best to ignore anything you thought about in your sex-crazed state. You can’t be held accountable for anything you think of to get yourself across the finish line, you aren’t yourself in those circumstances.

It doesn’t mean anything.

It can’t mean anything.

Minds wander, people think of all sorts of things when they’re blinded by lust. Hell, back home you’d once thought about a medical droid to get you there.

So it doesn’t matter.

And it certainly doesn’t mean anything, you were pent up, you see him all the time, now that you’ve taken care of it, it won’t happen again.

Now that you’ve taken care of that you’re sure you’ll be back to normal, no more day dreaming about unattainable men who you despise. You close your eyes for a few minutes. Chest heaving as you struggle to fully recover from your hasty orgasm.

You give yourself some time to just lay like that, eyes closed, trying to steady your breath, you probably shouldn’t sleep, you haven’t gone to dinner yet but after such a shamefully swift and powerful climax you're positively drained. (Literally and figuratively.) So it won’t kill you to close your eyes for a few minutes.

You don’t know how much time passes but before you even know what’s happening you're standing in front of the mirror, hair disheveled.

You can’t get your dress off, can’t twist your arms behind you to reach the corset laces. You don’t want to wake Elaine or Lysa, you aren’t sure how late it is but you just can’t seem to unlace the bodice by yourself, you’re considering just sleeping in the infernal thing at this point. In your struggle you don’t hear the door open but you watch in the mirror as a familiar silver figure envelops you. How long had he been out there? What the hell was he doing here at this time of night?

“You look like you need a little help there princess.” The familiar crackle of the modulator consumes your senses, watching in the reflection of the mirror you can see the slow and deliberate removal of his gloves as he undoes your bodice, with a practiced agility. Everything is fuzzy. You want so badly to drink in every part of him that he is willing to give to you but it’s almost too much for your brain to comprehend right now. He takes his time with it, like he’s drawing it out. Tenderly pulling every string loose until you can slip out of the gown with ease.

You let it fall to the ground.

He stares at you in your reflection, his large bare hands wrap themselves around your exposed midriff as you’re left only in your undergarments for his eyes to devour. He’s so leisurely about it, not wanting to miss an inch. His fingertips dance across the bare skin of your stomach, it takes every ounce of restraint in you to not arch yourself back against him, you can’t stand the way he makes you want to throw your dignity to the wind. With the two of you facing the mirror like this you can see everything. His thumb begins to stroke the lace of your bra ever so slightly while his other hand skims against your sternum. His touches were so light that if you weren’t having a physical reaction to them you wouldn’t even be truly sure he was touching you at all.

“Did you wear that pretty dress for me, princess?” Maker, you must have died and gone to heaven. His voice, his stupid voice. His stupid gravely voice that left you weak in the knees no matter how often you heard it. “You looked so good, I knew you’d wear green today, so eager to please me…” The baritone of it goes straight to your core, and speaking of straight to your core, his left hand is traveling downwards ever so gradually. “Tell me what it is you want.”

You suppose this is it, moment of truth. He wants to hear what you have to say. You could tell him to fuck off, right here, right now. And honestly you’re positive he would leave if you told him to. You’re married, unhappily. But that doesn’t make this okay. Nothing could make this okay. Except for the way his hands clamp down on your waist just hard enough to make you whine but not hard enough to bruise. Well, that’s enough to cloud your judgment enough to make this okay.

“Tell me.” His palms begin to knead the soft flesh of your abdomen and you swear the sensation of that alone has him groaning and rutting against you from behind.

This view is obscene, watching him grope you. It’s a real spectacle he’s making, holding you up on your shaky knees in front of the floor length mirror so you can see everything he’s doing to your body.

“Use your words, princess. Speak up.” You didn’t think his voice could get more husky; he's practically growling. It’s a good thing he’s supporting you slightly because his words make your knees buckle.

Oh he loves this, loves having you so unraveled by him that you can’t even tell him what you so desperately need from him. You can feel just how much he loves this against your lower back right now.

“I want to hear you say it, sarad'ika. ” And that’s all it takes to break your resolve. Those two words you couldn’t remember no matter how hard you tried, trickling out of his modulator and you’re willing to surrender to the feelings you’ve been fighting for longer than you’d like to admit. So you say it, you admit it out loud for the first time. You admit it to yourself for the first time.

“You. I want you. ”

And you wake up. Still in your dress, still laying on the edge of your bed, still alone.

Fuck.

Well, that might mean something.

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