#Just let boba say fuck already. He deserves it

[simhrt]

just watched jungwon’s new tiktok which was filmed in pd nim’s house in LA and can I just say that the pool there gave me so many ideas..like bro, he’s tired as fuck after his concert and all he needs is you and him relaxing in the pool. the rest of the guys go straight to bed and since it’s just you and him, both of you enter the pool completely naked. the water is just the right amount of warm and the weather is perfect. the lights on the edges of the pool made the environment ten times hotter than it already was. he was talking to you about his concert and send offs. “the guys cursed so much today.” he said as he tilted his head to the side. “yeah, i saw that. i also saw you making cheek hearts with girls.” you said as you frowned playfully. he chuckled as he pulled you closer to him. “they’re my fans baby, of course they deserve those hearts.”

you swam away from him. “oh really yang jungwon? what do i deserve then?” you said as you faked an angry expression while very clearly trying to bite back a smirk. he swam towards you but failed to catch you as you jumped away from him, creating a big splash, the sound of it mixing with your laughter. he went underwater and tried to chase you. you were swimming away from him but he kept coming towards you, until your back hit the edge. he got up and flipped his hair back. the sight of his toned abs, his wet hair and his entire body dripping with water made you bite your lips.

he moved closer to you, his wet lips near yours, almost touching. “i’ll show you what you deserve, baby.” with that, he smashed his lips onto yours, his tongue entering your mouth immediately. the kiss was wet and full of hunger. you grabbed his hair and pulled him closer to you while his hands travelled all over your body. “jungwon..what if..someone sees..” you tried to form words in between the kisses. he pulled back, his boba eyes filling with lust as he gave you a smirk before wrapping both of your legs around his waist, earning a gasp from you. “let them see then.”

before you could say something, you felt his hard dick entering your hole, stretching you out completely. he threw his head onto your shoulders as you threw yours back. “fuck..you’re so tight..” he said as he chuckled softly before moving his hips at a steady pace. you held onto his shoulders, almost piercing them with your nails. he increased his pace as he maintained eye contact with you, smirking at your expressions. “you like the way I fuck you, huh?” he said as he bit your lower lip, making you groan in pleasure. “just shut up and go faster.” you replied as your hands made their way to his nipples, flicking them at a fast pace, earning moans from him, making his legs tremble.

he pulled out, followed by him raising an eyebrow, making you moan in annoyance. “try being a little nicer, will you?” you scoffed and reached your hand down to his dick, squeezing it before rubbing it at a fast pace. he struggled to stand still in the water. he grabbed your shoulders and moaned loudly. “fuck..oh god..i’m gonna come..”

you took your hand off of his dick and smiled in the most innocent way possible. “sorry love, i’m not nice.” he put your legs around his waist again as he rammed into you. “yeah? how about I fuck you like it then?” his words made your clit throb. he held your waist as he pushed you up and down on his dick. your moans along with his were incredibly loud. the fear of someone catching you guys turned you on even more. “jungwon fuck..fuck oh my..god..fuck..”

his dick twitched inside you repeatedly. your walls felt so good around him as they made him moan with every thrust. he put his tongue inside your mouth once again, sucking on yours to add more to your pleasure. “gonna..come..fuck..” he struggled to form words as he kept ramming into you.

with a few final thrusts, he held you down on his dick as he shot his warm seeds into you, making your eyes roll back along with his own. your head fell onto his wide shoulder blades as you drooled a little on it while both of you struggled to catch your breath. he pulled out of you and gave you a sloppy kiss. “you’re so fucking hot, you know that?” you said as you ruffled his wet hair. “i think i-”

he was interrupted by the sound of a utensil falling on the floor. both of you turned your attention to the direction from which the sound came. a very wide-eyed heeseung stood there with a pint of ice cream in his hands and a spoon near his feet. jungwon quickly stood in front of you to cover your bare chest as heeseung quickly bent down to pick up his spoon. “uh how long have you been..you know..” you asked him, unable to complete your sentence. he nodded his head as he looked at his spoon. “i just got here, don’t worry..” you and jungwon sighed in relief. heeseung turned around to leave, but stood still. he looked at you with a smirk. “although..y/n..sometimes..being nice has its own benefits.”

#enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jungwon hard hours #jungwon #jungwon smut #enhypen hard thoughts #jungwon hard thoughts #yang jungwon #jungwon imagines #jungwon fanfic #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter XII : Venus

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: I realized shortly after posting chapter 11 that I’d made a small mistake in the timeline I’m intending this to follow. I included a line from Din saying Paz had already tried to take the Darksaber from him and failed, but where we’re at now, chapter 5 of The Book of Boba Fett hasn’t happened just yet. So I’ve gone back and deleted that small detail from the previous chapter, and why am I even telling you this, idk, but if you guy could do me a solid and pretend to forget my fuck up, I’d love you forever for it. 

Writing Star Wars is hard

Also, the indomitable @dirtysouvenir has rendered the most gorgeous artwork imaginable of Din and Sithy, and I still can’t quite believe my eyes every time I look at it. Everyone please go show Jonis all the love and praise she deserves. 

Anyways… like always, forgive me for the wait. I love you all for being so patient with me. And shout out to chapter four of Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband which served as inspiration for this. You will always be famous to me!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

Tip Jar

CHAPTER XII : VENUS

What are we doing here, and why are our hearts invisible?

Anne Carson, Kinds of Water

“Just like that, yes. Good girl–keep doing what you’re doing.” His hand slides to circle your wrist, leather and the thick weave of your tunic, the slight shake of your nerves caught between. “Grip it firmly, but squeeze it gently. Yes– yes, good. You’re doing so well.”

You suck in a trembling breath, too hyper aware of the feel of his chest plate brushing against your back, the cap of his left knee gently bumping the back of your own, his arms wrapped in a loose and careful cage around your frame where he’s helping you direct the blaster at the target he’d set up several meters away for practicing. He’s got one of your wrists wrapped in the leather of his fist, the other cupping the underside of your elbow to keep your shaking arms steady. 

“I don’t know why I’ve never been very good at this,” you whisper over the sound of the burning desert winds lashing you in the brow. “It’s just never come very easy.”

“That’s alright. That’s why we’re practicing again.” The hand cupping your elbow moves slowly to your waist, all his handling of you these past few days has been so intentional, cautious and patient and aware of himself and you and your reactions. Your heart beats, thumps and thumps hard enough to make you a little dizzy, a little sick. “Keep your right arm firm, but fluid. Try not to lock your elbow, let the recoil move through you steadily.”

He’d covered your hair and face in soft white linen wraps to keep you from being scorched by the sun and sand, and his voice is so deep, head pitched low so that the modulator is vibrating right at the level of your ear, the sounds of him sluicing through the linen to curl around your ear. You shiver again, squeezing your fist too tight around the butt of the blaster. You’d asked him if he’d help you practice just before you’d made planet fall a few hours ago, and now here the two of you are. A few clicks outside of Mos Eisley, he’d found a cluster of sandstacks to land the Crest amidst for a couple hours of target practice—near an area he’d told you is called Beggar’s Canyon. 

You’re not sure if it’s just an excuse to have him touch you, but here you are now, in the circle of his arms, shivering with nerves and heat and want. The sun burns, but the places where he grips you burn worse, and your heart rings in your skull. 

“Focus your gaze between the eyeline, eventually, it’ll come naturally, your aim, but for now, use the field the blaster sets. Squeeze gentle–” He grips your now healed elbow firmly, anchoring your arm, the hand holding your wrist moves to your waist, securing you in his hold so that when you pull the trigger, the zing of the blaster bolt leaving its chamber moves through your limb, into your chest cavity, electrifying your heart, and his hold is steadying all the way through. He’s there to keep you up, keep you strong, and so it’s almost thoughtless when you do it, a gut instinct or some muscle inside your brain desperate to flex and stretch or come awake because faster than you can blink or think, you take hold of that bolt of plasma with your mind, freezing it midway between where the two of you stand and the target he’d set. 

You feel his hands flex around you, but he keeps still and silent, watching, waiting for what you’ll do next. And your heart beats faster and faster, the bright of the sun gleaming and nauseating, refracting off the sand, the plasma, your eyes. The bolt screeches and writhes and defies the laws of nature by your hand, and it does not feel good, but it does feel right. 

The first time you’ve really wielded the Force since the night you escaped. 

There’s something painful and uncomfortable and familiar about it coming back to you. Your breath goes fast within your chest, the taste of the desert on your tongue and the grit of sand sneaking beneath your clothes, sweaty line of anxiety down your spine, and his steady, calm breaths up against your back every other moment, this power inside of you that’s always been the cause of everything bad and only some things good. It vibrates in everything, moves through all living things, the Force, within you, within him. 

“Let it go, cyare. It’s okay if you miss.” You shut your eyes and let it fall away and now it’s not the Force or you or anything else, it’s only him keeping you up against the rest of everything. 

The two of you, like grief and the mountain. 

-

“How did you meet this woman again?” You ask for about the third time, seemingly unable to keep your mouth shut and your nerves to yourself. 

“She’s been keeping up maintenance on the Crest for a while now. And she helped out with the kid, watched him for me a couple times—I trust her.”

“Peli,” you repeat the name contemplatively, taking in the sight of him as he checks the pre-landing codes, flipping switches and punching toggles a little too roughly. He’s agitated, covered and swathed in it. You know he’s worried about you, the way you’ll feel being around someone else, scared you’re still feeling fragile or tired or weak. And you’re accepting it for now because you are. You are tired and you do feel fragile and you do need taking care of. If only for the time being, if only for a little bit longer. A sort of end feels very near, and you’re still working out what that such end is going to be. 

“Peli,” he sighs, hitting the last button and finally swiveling in his chair to face you, and you eye him suspiciously, you know that sigh and head tilt. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Not tired?”

“No.”

“Your shoulder?”

Hurts. “Fine.”

“Cyar’ika.”

“Din.” Another sigh. Another shake of his head. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes at you beneath that stupid lug of metal he wears on his fat head. But you hope that he’s smiling too, and you give him a soft, small one of your own, twisting your fingers together tightly in your lap. You want to reach out for him, to go to him and sit with him and kiss him again like the other day. But you don’t feel ready again. Again, fragile, tired, a weakness of heart within you that you can’t understand the source of, or you can, but you don’t want to accept it, you want to be able to move on, to get over it, to be like you once were. But that you also know he’ll let you feel for as long as you need to.

“I promise I feel okay, and that I’ll tell you if I don’t.” The target practice had left you tired and awake, and there is something moving inside of you—a recognition of sorts you can’t pinpoint exactly, but which you know is going to show or tell you something about yourself soon, the Force, the things you’d done or the things you’d do. And there’s patience too, a waiting, a readiness to receive whatever this would be without pressure or urgency. You feel entirely strung tight, a knot about to be set loose, entirely at ease, as well. Something strange about the anxiety you carry within yourself, like it doesn’t really matter much anymore and is only waiting for the right moment to be expelled. 

He gives a soft grunt and turns back to face the control panel. The rolling golden sands of Tatooine like an ocean before you, and then there in the distance, the littered smattering of sand blighted little buildings that make up the spaceport of Mos Eisley. He directs the Razor Crest towards Hangar three-five, the ship jostling with the lowering of the landing gear. 

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You ask nervously, following him down the ladder once he’s eased the ship into the landing bay, fretting over this ordeal of having to meet someone else from his life, a friend, which wasn’t even something you were aware he knew how to have. You hear the heavy thud of his boots against the durasteel, and then his hands are circling your waist and pulling you down the rest of the way, paying no mind to your indignant squawking. 

He’d been strange with his touch, as well. As if he couldn’t help himself some moments, overcome by habit and familiarity, and then afraid and cautious in others. And you can’t understand how you feel about this either. Grateful, a sort of soft that makes your eyes smart and your cheeks bleed with heat. He’s so aware of you, so aware of what you might want or need, but then overcome, as well, needing you, wanting you. And you feel so afraid you won’t be able to give him those things—the ones he wants or needs, that you won't be able to find your way back to the way things had been between the two of you before. 

“You’ll be fine,” he says, little compassion to be found for your fretting. You stick your tongue out at the back of his head, rolling your eyes and steeling yourself as he lowers the hatch, and a chirpy little voice calls, Mando!

The plank lowers, and lowers, and lowers, and finally, a mess of springy dark curls come into view. The small woman, Peli, claps her hands excitedly and spreads her arms in wide welcome of him, and something in your heart throbs. 

A friend, indeed. 

“Peli,” he greets her, heavy, swaying gate stomping down the gangplank, voice serious and not all matching her enthusiasm. You roll your eyes at him again as the reverberations of his steps tickle your feet through the soles of your boots. 

“Hey, look everyone! It’s Mando,” she says to the chittering droids whirring around her. You follow him slowly, slinking directly behind him so that the breadth of his shoulders conceals you for a second longer before, “And who do we have here? Another unlikely companion?” 

He pivots, letting you step into full view and brave shyness, a hand coming up to hover around your waist, urging you forward, but not actually touching you. The sound of your name rings in tune to the thump of your heart through the modulator. Careful, so careful, and it makes you hurt at your own self. Wanting to touch you one moment, unable to stop himself from ripping you into his arms; another, afraid, feeling like he can’t even put a gently motioning hand on your body, and how will you ever fix this? How are you going to ever be able to get the two of you back to where you were? 

You take a hurt little step away from him, swallowing the heat in your throat several times before you can force a smile onto your face. 

His body shifts and sways towards your retreating one. 

But the small woman steps towards you, pit droids spinning and skittering frantically around her, and she claps a work hewn hand on your shoulder. “Let Peli take a good look at you.” Her gaze is cheerful, full of a youthfulness that belies her age and an even more cheerful, gap toothed smile. “Pretty girlfriend, Mando.” She waggles her bushy brows up at him. “Brought me another set of bright eyes, didn’t’cha?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peli.” Your throat feels humiliatingly tight when she takes your hand in her smaller one, giving it a swift shake, no gentleness about the way she handles you, and there’s something comforting about the forsaking of the kid gloves. Your fracture isn’t obvious for the whole world to see, there’s still normalcy to be found for you. 

She looks up at Din as you avoid his burning gaze, laughing scowl on her sunny face. “Who woulda thought you had it in, ya, huh?” She thumps a fist on his chest plate, shaking her head and moves to take a look at the Crest. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Chasing down some elusive bounty? Carbon scoring’s worse than last time.'' She chatters a million miles a minute, pulling out some sort of electric scanner, assessing the old gunship. 

“We had a long trip,” he sighs, hands fisted on his hips as he watches her impatiently, turning his gaze back to your face every few moments. You want to bare your teeth at him in a snarl and tell him to stop fucking worrying. You want him to take you into his arms or hold your hand. 

“Long trip, sure. That’s what he always says,” she tells you over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. “Turns out it’s usually a gun fight or something just as idiotic.”

You snicker, enjoying the easy way she handles your Mandalorian’s surliness, grateful for the cheerful buffer she provides between your own internal angst and his overzealous worrying. “It was a long trip this time, I swear. We’re coming from the Core,” he grumbles, and the two of you follow her while she inspects the damage on the ship, and in a moment of bravery or desperation for normalcy or closeness or just him, you reach up to grip two of his thick fingers in your fist. His hand immediately adjusts and curves to wrap around yours, intertwining your fingers and taking you securely in his grip. You feel him turn to look down at you questioningly, but you refuse to look back. This is normal, this is how it should be, this is what feels right even if you need the barrier of his gloves to feel like you can breathe. 

“The Core! Long way’s.” Hmm, she muses as she goes. “Got a fuel leak.” Again. He huffs. “Taking a vacation now?” She turns back with another smarmy smirk. 

“Something like that.”

“Nice little honeymoon?” She teases. “I could use one of those myself.” She scans something else, and the pit droids chatter and chirp around her, almost full her height, she’s so small. 

“Peli–” he grumbles. Your grumpy, shy boy; you wonder if he ever blushes under that thing, squeezing his hand in yours as tight as you can. 

“Yeah, yeah. No droids, I know. When are you gonna get over that nonsense, huh Mando? It’s about time, you know!” She bends to inspect something closer near the landing gear, covered in carbon scoring here too, examines her scanner again, then clips it back to her utility belt. “Alright, here’s the deal–” But he cuts her off, pivoting while pulling his blaster in one fluid motion to shoot at a poor little droid that's gotten too close. “Hey! Hey! What’ve I said before? You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” She shouts. 

“Din–” you scold, gripping the thick of his arm to pull the weapon down. 

“What’ve I told you?” He barks. 

“No droids. No droids. Blah, blah. You have got to get over that! I’m tryn’a make a deal with you here, ya womp rat.”

He jerks aggressively towards another little droid that wanders too close, sending it skittering away in terror, and you pinch his arm beneath the thick duraweave, frowning up at him, be nice, when he looks down at you, giving him a jut of your eyebrow and thrusting your chin at Peli. He groans, cursing low and grumpy in Mando’a. “Fine. What’s the deal?”

“If you let them work on the Crest–” She jerks her chin at the little pit droids quivering behind the crates strewn about the hangar in abject terror of the mean Mandalorian. 

“No,” he cuts her off, stubbornness in every line of his frame. 

“Din!” You scold again, bumping your hip into his. 

“Come on, Mando! I’ll charge you half price–”

“Deal,” he cuts her off again immediately, the cheapskate. 

“Ha!” She hoots and claps loudly. “Droids! Get to work on this lovely man’s ship. Lemme see the cash.” She holds out a grubby palm, wiggling her fingers. “He’s pretty easy, you ever notice that?” She says to you conspiratorially. 

“Constantly,” you can’t help the laugh in your voice. Your first laugh in what seems like years. 

“Loose knickered is what they used to call it back in my day.” And you have to turn your face into his arm to muffle your cackling, listening to him start up another string of curses beneath the helmet.

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that before, ever,” he mutters sullenly. 

“Well, you’re young.”

“Not that young,” you provide helpfully, big cheesy smile that feels slightly unnatural and rusted spreading across your face. 

“Whoopee, Mando! I like this one! You really do know how to pick ‘em.” She claps him roughly on the shoulder, her little paw slapping loudly against his pauldron. “Anyway, I’ve got somewhere to be for the next couple of days, you see. I’m dating that Jawa again—the one I’d told you about,” she announces, proud as anything, big smile across her leathery face.

“A Jawa?” You repeat, making sure you heard right. 

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, bright eyes. They’re quite furry… very furry, but…” She clicks her teeth together, “You know…” Grins. 

You look up at Din, squeezing his arm in your grip. “Guess I gotta try it.” You’re pretty sure you hear him grumble something to the effect of over my dead body, before he’s agreeing to Peli’s deal with a clap and a shake, and the promise of two hundred and fifty Imperial credits and absolutely no harm done to her droids while she’s gone and they work on the Crest. 

“Treadwell, get in there!” She shouts, and the little pit droid chirps fretfully, trembling behind an R5 unit. “You can’t say no, you’re a droid. Oh, he’s not going to shoot you. Stop being a coward! What is this, a democracy all of a sudden?” Losing the fight, the droid wheels forward to get to work. “Yeah, thought so.” She turns back to you and Din. “You two can stay here, look after the shop while I’m gone? It’ll only be a few days.”

“We have some resupplying to do, but we’ll stay until you’re back,” he promises.

“And you’re not going to shoot my droids?”

“And I’m not going to shoot your droids,” he agrees, but later, you catch the too rough nudge he gives one of the little droids with his boot when he thinks no one’s watching. This man and his droid complex, you roll your eyes. 

“How’s the N-1 keeping up?” He asks as she’s packing up to go. 

“Just how you left her. That honey’s faster than a fathier. You should take her out while you’re here, give that baby a spin. Oh! And I added that turbonic venturi power assimilator I’d mentioned before. Remember? S’how I reconnected with my Jawa,” she nudges you with a wink. “You’re gonna be the fastest ship on the Outer Rim.” 

“You got a new ship?” You ask curiously.

“Just a side project we took up while I had some spare time.” But the way he says it is a little strange, making you pause to look up and try to read the blank face of his helmet. Ah, and he smooths that same hovering hand from before along the line of your spine, an attempt to soothe or quell your curiosity without actually giving you the gift of his touch.  

Peli leaves a few hours later, and she really does have a Jawa lover. The little critter comes to collect her right before the suns set, off to catch the sandcrawler before it journeys off into the desert, leaving you alone with only Din and the little pit droids for company. 

And suddenly, that shyness from earlier is back for some reason. The distraction of travel and the buzz of hyperspace lost to the calm silence of the quiet spaceport as the suns set over the horizon and night settles in, cool winds coming in on the sand gusts from deep in the desert. After hours of work, Din posing as the menacing overlord barking orders and complaints, intruding on their work when it isn’t up to his ridiculous standards, the droids finish up for the night, and Din engages the hangar security system, and then the ship’s, locking the two of you in safely for the night. 

“Dinner?” He asks as he moves slowly around the hull, pulling the cloak from his shoulders, a river of sand sluicing in a rain sheet onto the steel floor. The sound of it has a shiver moving through you as you lower yourself to the floor, crossing your legs beneath you at the edge of your makeshift bed. You desperately want to crawl between the covers without a shower and find the peace of evasion through sleep, secure in the knowledge that he won’t follow you into bed. He’d refused since you’d reunited, even though you’d invited him several times to share the much more comfortable pile of blankets than what you know his pilot’s chair or bunk provide. He’d not taken you up on the offer yet, and right now, fluttering heart and hot eyes and sweating nape, you’re glad for it. 

You don’t know what’s wrong with you—or you do. You’re overwhelmed with want and fear, of him, of his touch, of having lost what the two of you had before. And as you watch him start to pull his armor from his body, first one pauldron, then a vambrace, then a thigh guard, no sense of congruity to the pattern with which he divests himself of his Creed, it’s suddenly like he’s standing right in front of you, and yet you miss him anyway. Miss him in a way that makes you sick and devastated. 

You must make some sort of sound, a funny look on your face or a change in your breathing because he turns suddenly, a too worried, “What’s wrong?” on his tongue. 

“Nothing.” You look up at him from your spot on the ground, head falling back on your neck, and you can feel the wet of your eyes, trying to force yourself not to blink so that they won’t fall—the tears. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He comes to a slow crouch before you, long legs folding down, down. “What is it? Tell me.” Half missing his armor as he poses now, it’s like he’s half him, half yours, half only-man, half Mandalorian. A little bit like what you feel yourself; half, half, half. 

Pulling one glove from his hand, he lifts it, palm spread towards you, showing you his intention before he carefully cups the side of your face; thumb at your pulse, pointer and middle fingers giving your temple a soft pressure, pinky poised at the bridge of your nose. Your lashes brush against his index every time you blink, and his skin is smooth and rough at the same time, and warm—sun-hearted man. 

You press your face harder into his palm, letting him support the weight of your head, nuzzling against the rough of his calluses, blaster blister scratchy against your carotid, and heat pulses all through you from the crown of your head, sliding down the length of your, still yet, too long hair, the back of your neck, your chest, pooling to settle deep in the pit of your belly. 

And yet there’s something missing or different or off, like you feel empty but too full of trepidation to conjure up that old desire you’d always had, that need for him to fill, fill, fill you. Like the heat is there, but it’s remembered, not necessarily present. It all makes you want to cry and scream and go to sleep. 

The truth, and plainly: you’re terrified of anything that might hurt, can’t fathom the idea of it. 

Your heart beats in your throat, you taste it on your tongue, and it mixes with the sad when you say: “Do you remember when we were on Kashyyyk—when we sparred?”

“I remember,” he says, voice deep and low—through the modulator. You hate his helmet. You wish you could get beneath. You wish you were brave enough. The feeling of it coming on sudden and unexpected, thought, bitter and foul and not something you’d necessarily felt before, certainly not so viciously. It’s just that you hate that all this has happened—you want to feel the press of his lips at the crown of your head and the wash of his breath like heat moving through your hair—that you are not in the same place you once were, that you’re too afraid to move forward. 

“When we switched weapons—”

He hums: “Yes.”

“It was so green there.” You turn your face further into him so that you’re speaking into his palm now, words pooling there in the cup of it like a well of truths and fears. 

“It was.” The pointer and index stroke your temple, press once, twice, thrice—harder on the latter. It feels good, it feels real and reminding. He lets a heavy silence pass for a moment, he’s thinking of something, contemplating a push. “Do you remember—” He passes a swallow you can hear the thickness of, “Do you remember how I had you in the dirt—like a fucking animal? How you let me do whatever I wanted, however I wanted.” He gives the hardest press he’s given yet, at your temple, you think you feel the press against your brain, and you open your mouth to let the edge of your teeth dig hard into the meat of his palm. He growls a rough sound, a hungry sound, a sound like one he’d have made when he had you in the dirt like a fucking animal. 

You drag your teeth along the hill of his palm, closing your mouth at the end. You don’t give him the wet of your tongue, you don’t feel ready to taste his skin like that just yet—an assimilation of violence.

“Yes,” you finally say, realizing that he understands what you were thinking without having to say it, or knowing how to, that you’re full of memories of past desires and how badly you want them back and how out of reach that all feels, but also, that suddenly now, in a single blink, the heat in your belly isn’t remembered, but present, alive, awake. That you’re cunt clenches once, twice, thrice around nothing—harder, hungrier on the latter. That you’re wet for him. “I remember.”

“Good. I remember every single thing we’ve ever done.” You roll your face in his palm so that you can look up at him now, feeling something like brave. “Every word, every breath, I remember all of it. Alright?”

“Alright,” you say quietly. 

“And if you need me to help you remember too, then I will.”

“Alright.” And then: “What if I can’t, though?... What if we can’t ever have that again? What if I can’t remember? What if I can never give you that again?” A tear slides over the bridge of your nose, and now it’s not only truths and fears cupped in the palm of his hand but the saltwater of grief too.  

“Then we’ll find something new. A new way, a different way. We’ll do it however you want now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, cyar’ika.” It’s very much a promise, a new Creed being established here. 

“Okay.”

He nods, “Okay.”

-

The water is warm verging on hot verging on scalding. It feels incredible slithering over your tired and sore muscles, the ligatures in your arms still trembling from the blaster practice earlier today, from your overwhelm of emotions. 

You hate that you’re not good at it, that the only weapon that seems to become you is a lightsaber. 

The suds of his earthy smelling soap slide through your hair, slipping down your spine, over your ass and along your legs to pool around your feet and disappear down the drain. You shiver once, as though letting something fall away as you slide your hand down, over the swell of your belly, to cup the palmful of your cunt, wedging your hand between your thighs. You pet slowly at the wet curls there, realizing some of it is also the sticky slick of your desire. You were right, you’re wet for him and your clit pulses, slightly swollen and wanting. Your body is awake and hungry for him for the first time in what feels like eons. 

You explore slowly, your cunt slightly trembling at the feeling of being prodded and touched for the first time in you can’t remember how long. Moaning softly, you pull your fingers from between your legs, hands sliding up now to cup the weights of your breasts in each palm and squeeze tightly. Oh, you want him, you want him, you’re afraid. Your head falls back on a thump against the fresher wall, loud enough that you hear his lurking voice through the door, you okay in there? And instead of being annoyed at his overbearing caution, his hovering, you shiver again, something coming back to you now. 

Your desire. 

You shut the water off, grabbing one of the soft linens he’d slung over the warm pipe for you to wrap yourself in. He knocks a knuckle against the wobbly little door, “Cyar’ika?” 

Looking at yourself in front of the steamy mirror, too long, naiad hair, bright, strange eyes, you want him, you want him, you want to feel alive, awake, anything. You can’t deny your shortcomings, fears, whatever they might be called, but there is yet still a soft place inside of you that they’d not snuffed out, that wants Din still. 

You turn to slide the fresher door open just as he’s readying to knock again. 

He’d showered before you, after he’d fed you your soup and your disgusting fake bread he’d promised he’d find a real substitution for soon enough, and you’d needed a moment alone to sit in your grime and silence, digest your feelings. He’s clad now in one of his soft, dark undershirts, his flight pants and the helmet, opposite your towel and water dewed skin, steaming from the hot fresher. 

You watch a swallow pass through his throat, words caught, slow and heavy. He clears it once, twice, tilts his head down to take in the state of you, before he says, “You alright?”

You nod, wide eyed awake. He’s standing right in front of you and you miss him and you want to shock him wide eyed awake too. “The water was too hot. I got dizzy,” you lie, swaying towards him a little, letting your lashes flutter dramatically. 

Not all the way, but enough, just a little, as much as you can bear, that’s what you want from him right now. 

His hands come up to grip the sides of your arms immediately, his bare hands, soaking up the wet of your skin. He pulls you into himself, pressing you carefully against his chest, and you shiver and shake against him, teeth rattling with a sound entirely lacking temperance. Your blood feels like it’s boiling, there’s desire alive and writhing in your tummy, and you squeeze your thighs together tightly, shifting from one foot to another while you drip a puddle onto the cold floor. 

“Come here, sit down,” he murmurs, gently moving you to your bed, easing you down onto it slowly. “You need to take it easy,” he clucks over you, gripping your elbow to let you down carefully, keeping his hands on your bare skin until the last moment. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re still tired, you’re still recovering. And you never listen. You have to listen to me when I’m trying to take care of you. You don’t eat enough, and I know your shoulder still hurts, little liar. Your elbow is barely better, and I saw you making strange faces when you were walking up the plank the other day. Your hip hurts doesn't it? Or your knee, something. No, don’t answer. I know you’ll just say no.” He talks and talks and talks, and you love him and you think that— 

There’s a name for this…

He’d told you he loved you and he’d not said it again, neither had you, it felt too huge a thing to talk about again just yet while there was still so much left to discuss and bridge, but what does it matter if your body sings or screams in pain when you have the love of this beskar titan? What could you care for all the rest of everything?

Yes, Din. Yes, Din. Whatever you say, Din, as he huffs and puffs and arranges you, brings another pillow and blanket from the bunk, his only one in there, not that he cares, lovely man. 

And it’s not only that you feel like you need to give him the things he wants or needs, because of course you do. You love him, you need to be able to give him things, everything, you want to be able to give him the whole galaxy. But it’s also that you want to. That to give him what he desires is to feed yourself, to live together, to be together, to give each other the things you need to stay alive. 

You let yourself fall back onto the soft blankets slowly, this nest where you’ve always felt so safe and so protected and so loved, even when neither of you knew it was love that was holding you here. And you watch him for a few anxious moments as he pulls the covers this way and that, tucking them here and there, trying to avoid looking at the bare expanse of your dew damp legs. But then, taking hold of his hand, you still his nervous movements, and he finally looks up at your face, letting go of his fretting, taking hold of the bravery in the palm of your hand. 

Shy—but brave. Brave—and wanting. 

“We’ll take care of each other, won’t we?” You want to tell him you love him again, but there’s something slightly terrifying, gloriously intimate and fragile about the words. 

“Always.”

“And we’ll keep each other alive?” Maker, I hope we keep each other alive. 

“Yes.”

You take hold of the edge of the linen covering you, revealing your naked body to him slowly, exposing your soft underbelly. You hear his breath hitch, exhale on a groan that sounds like dying. His grip on your hand goes tight to the point of bone crushing pain for one brief, brief moment before he remembers himself and gentles again. You shiver at the pain, belly swooping and quivering with fear and nausea and lust. 

You wish you could see his eyes, his face, his want. 

“You—” he stutters, swallows, “You don’t have to, my love.” My love. He doesn’t need to say it out loud again now with teeth and tongue, he says it in all the things he does. 

“You have to know that I want you so much. That I want you more than anything, Din.”

“I do know,” he says immediately. “I’ve never doubted that.” 

“I want to show you.”

“You don’t have to. I know—” His other hand comes up to grip yours with both of his, caging your limb within the strength of his fists—to keep himself from touching you anywhere else, you think. But you can feel the intensity of his gaze along your skin, over your bare breasts, quivering with your hitching breaths, water droplets translating the frantic beat of your heart in their trembling on the surface of your skin. The line of your belly, the slope downward to the soft place between your thighs. 

He’d seen the scarring on your hand, it was inevitable as much as you’d wished you could hide the deformity they’d left. As much as you wish you could’ve kept it from him, held an illusion for the rest of your lives together to spare him from the reminder of the things that’d been done, happened, chosen. But now… now he is to be subjected to the whole truth of it. Scars like cobwebs, strangely shimmering in silver lights beneath the surface of your skin—they’d been clever and ingenious in their torture—covering the whole circumference of your left hand up to your elbow. But also, from the lowest point of your last rib, over your right hip, traversing lower down the contours of your skin to wrap around the uppermost swell of your thigh. 

They’d left their mark like they’d intended, and it wasn't something you could ever hide from him, the reality of what’d been done, what you’d chosen. It was obvious in everything, etched into your skin, a chasm in the still present distance between the two of you. 

You feel like a bruise; tender, vulnerable, incongruously desperate to press on it harder and feel that dull throb, dark and ugly and on display. 

His hands go tight around yours again for a moment, before he’s snatching them back to grip his bent knee, white knuckled, silent anger on display when his eyes reach the scarring. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, smoothing a hand over your hip down to your thigh to grip yourself there, digging your fingertips lightly into the plush softness. Your skin vibrates. “It doesn't hurt now.”

“What did they do?” His voice is like gravel, restrained fire-full fury. 

“They wanted to see what it’d take to leave a mark. They figured it out.” The helmet turns away sharply, a short, brutal curse spit from his mouth. The tongue of his mother, beautiful despite his violence. 

“It’s okay, Din.” You take hold of your thigh, pulling it up and apart, spreading yourself for him. Brave, wanting heart, be brave. He turns back immediately. “I want you to see how much I want you,” you whisper. “How much I still need you.” 

You let your fingertips flutter lightly over your swollen, needy sex, and you can hear the obscene, sucking sound of your wet lips spreading apart when you part your legs wide enough for your sex to bloom. Cunt hungry and weeping for him. 

Fuck, he spits, leaning closer, and his hand snaps forward to grip your ankle all the way around, pulling your foot up onto the uncompromising muscle of his thigh—your only point of contact. 

“Show me, cyar’ika. Show me how much that pretty cunt missed me,” he growls. 

You start slow, wide eyes fixed on the dark tee of his vizor, fingertips swirling around your clit slowly, it pulses and throbs and beats to the rhythm you can feel his own heart beating at within his own chest. But you pet it slowly, teasing both of you, and then feel lower down to the clenching mouth of your cunt—fuck, he spits again—slicking your fingers in your sticky wet. You start to rock your hips against the flat of your hand, the sound of your cunt, loud in the quiet hull, nothing to interrupt but the too desperate sound of your mutual panting. His fingers around your ankle are so tight they’ll leave a sore spot, and you can't think of the later hurt now, afraid it'll scare you out of this, all you can focus on is the beat of your cunt, the way it cries for him. 

You swirl your fingertips at your opening, again, again, “Put them inside. Let me see you fuck yourself.” And it’s a demand. 

You start with one, slow and tentative, a little, shocked gasp as you probe shallowly within the tight, little hole. Then further, wiggling inside until you’re impaling yourself with your own small finger, the first thing inside of you in so long, and suddenly, you wish it was him. Your eyes fill with tears at the thought, spilling over at the wish that he could’ve been the first thing inside of you after all this time, but the reality that you’re just not ready for it yet. The salted proof of your inevitable shortcomings slide back along your cheeks to drip into your ears. 

“Another,” he demands. “Oh, it sounds so pretty, little one. Give it another.” You pull your single finger out, sucking, wet-cunt sound that he groans in tune with, to press another one in, mewling at the pinch and stretch of it, the slick slide. Yes, just like that. You’re doing so well, he says, a mirror of his earlier words to you today during target practice. “Roll your hips, ride your hand.” You hitch another sob, “Don’t fucking cry,” he grits, pressing your heel hard into the meat of his thigh. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re going to come for me, you’re going to let me see it.” He spreads his thighs wider in his kneeling crouch, pushing his hips forward into nothing, drawing your gaze to the heavy bulge behind the plaquette of his flight pants. He’s so hard. 

You crook your fingers inside yourself, hill of your palm against the swell of your engorged clit, fingertips against the spongey ridge at the front of your cunt, rolling your hips faster, chasing the orgasm you need to give him. Your foot feels numb in his grip, your cunt, on fire, so tight it hurts. Your belly hitches and heaves, open mouth gasping and you cry his name, moaning and writhing wantonly, your stomach slick and glistening again with sweat now instead of water. One of your palms reaches up to take hold of your breast, nipple caught between your fingers, squeezing tight, tight, tight. And suddenly he’s surging forward, letting go of your ankle to lean over you and rip his pants open, freeing his furious erection. The tip is red-purple and swollen fat, drooling a thick string of sloppy, white precum, and he wraps one massive fist around the angry thing. Din, Din, Din. He beats at his cock furiously, the sound of your name, the slick thwack, thwack, thwack of it sends you spilling into your orgasm, belly pulling tight, cunt twisting even tighter. 

“Fuck, fucking come—fucking come,” he snarls as he twists his fist cruelly around the head and the thick white viscosity of his semen starts to spill from the fat head, bubbling up and over his fist and between his fingers, splattering heavy and hot onto your spasming cunt, coating your fingers so that you’re pushing the thick of his come into yourself, slicking you further. “Yes, yes, yes, like that. Let me fucking see it…Look at what you do to me.” And there's so much furious want in his voice, and he’s so big, long and thick, and you know it’s going to hurt when he puts it inside of you for the first time again—you remember how it hurt before, how you loved it—and you’re afraid you’re not going to be able to handle any sort of pain ever again, not even the sort you’d been so hungry for before. 

But your womb pulls tight, pulses and throbs, and suddenly your two skinny fingers arent enough, you want the thick heft of his cock fucking hard and fast and deep inside of you, punching at the deepest spot within you.

His orgasm ends on a fierce groan, panting, thick chest heaving, his head hangs low between his shoulders. You pull your shaking fingers from your clenching hole, and he gives a few last lazy strokes, squeezing the last drops of come from the slick tip to splatter against your pussy. “I fucking missed this—your cunt covered in me.” His dripping cock bobs so close, and you have the sudden insane thought of him just shoving it in, holding you down prone and fucking all of his spend into your sloppy cunt, forcing you to take it and be his again. “I can’t wait to eat it. I can’t wait to fill it with my come again and eat it out of you.” There’s a part of you that might want it, that might wish for it. 

“Maker, Din…” you moan, rubbing the thick semen into your overstimulated clit, your mound, up the curve of your belly, slicking yourself in him.

 If you can’t have his touch, this is enough, and you bring your sticky, soaking fingers up to your mouth, sucking the come from them. He groans, not fair, sitting back on his knees, spent cock hanging obscenely from his open pants, wet and glistening. He reaches behind his head to tug his shirt up and off, leaving his sweaty chest bare and gleaming. Your eyes flutter shut, cupping your cunt in the palm of your hand, covering the slick curve of it, and you arch your back, spreading your thighs further, putting yourself on display for him. 

“Gorgeous, cyar’ika,” he says between pants. “So pretty, my love.” He reaches down to squeeze his half hard cock once more. “I can be patient for you, I promise. You’re so worth it.”

-

He lays beside you in the dark, stretched out long and entirely clothed, but here with you, forced and convinced to share your bed with a line of pillows as a protective moat between the two of you at his own insistence.

You’re on your side, hands folded beneath your smushed cheek, wide eyes searching fruitlessly for the shape of him in the pitch dark. You want to say something else. You want to tell him you love him again, to hear the words fall from your tongue. 

“What are you thinking?” He asks.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” You hum a barely breathed laugh. And then, “I know you’re scared or regretful or worried that we’ll not get back to where we were,” he reads you.

“Yes.”

There’s a name for this…

He sighs long, goes quiet for longer, and then finally: “What’s happened’s happened, which is an expression of faith in the mechanics of the galaxy.”

“Fate?” You muse, a little unbelieving.

Dark red—

“Call it what you want. We met, we separated…you were—gone. We waited. Now we’re here again. It’s meaningful, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You believe in this—fate?” I didn’t think I believed in anything anymore. But I believe in you.

“Call it what you want, but yes.”

—String. 

There’s something about this that you need to consider, chew on. The fact that you’d felt, all your life, cursed to know how a thing would happen, be, end, always. Something like fate, perhaps, the whisper of it making a home for itself within the shell of your ear, and now the truth that he too believes in this thing you’ve always lived with. Destiny, what have you—you believe in the same things, you believe in each other. 

“Will you hold my hand?”

He turns over, reaching to twine his fingers through yours; large, rough palm against small, soft palm. You want to tell him you love him again, you want to hear the words for him, but they feel trapped, tender, timid. 

You’d always thought your destiny fixed, poised, on the tip of your tongue. A thing was what it was birthed unto the galaxy in perpetuity, and no amount of desire could absolve you of its sunken teeth. But this—this desire is like the creation of myth, that dark red thread that goes by the name of fate being pulled taught, humming in accord with a frequency heard only by the two of you. 

Now: “Will you kiss me?” A beat of silence, his fingers around yours going tight, tight. 

“Come here,” his voice blends with the darkness, and tugging you into himself, protective border between your bodies and his hand around your jaw, he slips a kiss onto your tongue. His mouth holds the hot recollection of being alive; the drag of his teeth against your bottom lip, the taste, your fingers weaving through his hair, your names sounding together, a pair because they belong on the same breath. 

You pull back, and it’s only a small brevity, but it’s enough, and that confusion from earlier, that shiver of letting something go or taking it back into yourself, settles. 

You’re afraid or regretful or both, yes, sure. You also find yourself to be, suddenly, forgiving, full of empathy. You won’t be able to have him unless you take possession of yourself first, and on the tail end of a comet breaking across the sky: I love him, but I must also love myself. He deserves someone who loves themself, but more than that, I deserve it too. To be able to give him the things he wants and needs: I deserve to be in love with myself. 

You let the Tartarian memory become nothing.

 Love manifests itself primarily in forgiveness.

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#TCC fic #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader

[bonny-kookoo]

Racer!jk might be my favorite one right now!!! Omg can we please have a drabble on that race where jk crashed?

...but also,,, pretty please can we have a drabble before jk was successful? Shes been with him thru thick and thin, i feel like it would be a great read to see how they were when jk got his first ever major win

I'm doing the second one, before his career really took off.

-> main work

"It looks so cute!" You say, looking at the front of the car. "Like it's smiling!" You beam, and Jungkook laughs, walking up to you to look at the front as well. People are watching you- its the first time jungkook has taken you with him to a race after all.

"Huh. I guess?" He wonders, tilting his head a bit. "If you take the headlights as eyes and then the bumper as a mouth.. it does kind of look like it." He admits, and you laugh. You've not been dating too long- but he already knows that your laugh is the cutest he'll ever come across in his life.

"See?" You tell him, before you take a peek at the inside. "It's so small in there though.. and What're those tubes for?" You ask.

"Its called a cage. Basically, if the car flips, the cage stays intact and as result, I do too." He jokes- but he notices you tensing up a little. "It's for safety." He says, and you nod a bit more quietly now.

"And.. all the wires there? Are they gonna cover those?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"Nah, they stay like that. The car doesn't have to look pretty, just gotta accommodate me and keep me alive and well." He tells you- but it's clear that he's not very tactful in thinking about your emotions. He's not used to having a girl around in this setting- and it shows. "Hey- I'll be fine."

"But this is fucking dangerous, right?" You worry. "I looked up stuff online." You say, crossing your arms. "I'm not stupid." You threaten, and he moves to gently hold your cheeks.

"Baby of course you're not, never said you are." He reassures you. "But it's not my first time, I'll be fine!" He urges, and you can't help but let his big Boba ball eyes get to you. They're sparkling with the heat of his own pride right now, and he deserves to feel like that.

"..okay. sorry." You're not sure what you're apologizing for, but you still do- and he laughs, pecking your lips. Twice, because once is never enough. He doesn't care about his friends whistling in the back.

They're just trying to tease him.

"Dont worry so much. I've got experience, and my driving skills aren't half bad either!" He beams at you, and you smile. "And I've got my good-luck charm here too, so there's no way I'll lose this one." He purrs, pushing you back a little against the side of his car before he kisses you deeper than before, uncaring about looks.

"You sure I'm not distracting?" You ask, watching how he licks the piercing on his lip. "Kook you're literally staring at my tits right now, you're proving my point!" You laugh, and he grins as well.

"Nah." He shakes his head, shamelessly grabbing your ass as he walks you back behind the safety barriers. "I'd call it motivation." He responds.

"Motivation huh?" You tease, and he nods.

"To get back quick, and fetch my prize." He explains to you. "Take you out to a fancy dinner with that money I'll make."

"Maybe I'll let you have dessert in the car." You tease, and he grins.

"Deal." He grins at you, before he leaves to get ready for the dirt track race, leaving you behind with your suppressed worries.

He'll be fine.

Or at least you hope he will be.

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#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook imagines #bts jungkook drabble

[resi4skz]

Pairing: soft sugar daddy Chan x fem!read y/n

Title: My Sugar Daddy

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

You would think you could own a lot of things but a sugar daddy wasn't one of them. You didn't even know how it started. How he started giving you money little by little, starting with how much he owes you because you did a favor for him. The favor being looking after his younger siblings for one night. But it made you wonder what he does to earn such a huge amount of money.

"Curious?" He asked.

"I mean, yeah. Why not?" You replied.

You two were sitting across from each other at a 5 star restaurant, waiting for the bill. Never in a million years you would've thought of dining here. Just yesterday, he had gifted you 2 bags of Louis Vuitton. And he took no for an answer. It was always no and always how much I deserve it.

"But Channie, my rommate is getting suspicious," I whine. He was also my boyfriend.

"Babe, tell her it's all from me and she can shove her attitude down the drain," he replied, softly caressing the back of my hand with his thumb, making small circles.

"Easier said than done," I sigh, as my phone rings. The name on the screen makes my blood boil. "What the fuck do you want, Joshua?"

Chan's ears perk up at the name. "You're something else, Y/N," Joshua says, his voice deep and condescending. "Tell me, does he make you scream like I did?"

"Joshua-"

"Does he fuck you like I did?"

I glance at Chan, who's looking at me, concerned. If Joshua can't stand the fact that I'm dating a better man, a better looking man than he has another thing coming for him. "As a matter of fact, he does it better."

"What?"

That got his attention. "I scream his name every night. I scream his name during the day. I scream his name because I want to. Do you wanna know why?"

The only thing comes from the other end is breathing. "I'll tell you. It's because I'm cared for. He makes me the happiest woman on earth. He makes me feel loved and cherished. He makes me feel like I'm the only woman he wants. It's because of him I..." Chan gives my hand a reassurance squeeze. "It's because of him I don't have nightmares anymore."

The line goes dead. And then a commotion of the waiter shouting for someone to stop when I spot Joshua coming to our table, not even acknowledging Chan. "You slut. You think he can give you everything? You think he's any better than me?"

"What the fuck? Are you stalking me?"

Joshua grabs my hand and yanks hard. "You're coming with me."

"Hey! Let go!" I yell, trying to get my arm out of his deathly grip when it's suddenly yanked off. I blink at Chan, standing in front glaring at Joshua. "Channie."

"She said no, mate," Chan says calmly.

"Bro, she's my girlfriend," Joshua replies.

"Was your girlfriend," Chan replied, intertwining my hand with his.

"Y/N, you gonna let him talk to me like this?" Joshua asked, pointing to Chan.

"Let me? Mate, if it wasn't for her, you would've been on the floor by now."

Oh my god. Why do I find this so attractive?

Joshua snarls and lunges for Chan. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Chan warns as several men stand up from different seats in the restaurant. Joshua's face pales as he looks at the men standing. "You see, I'm someone you don't want to mess with, especially when it comes," he says the next words with a snarl, "my girl."

My cheeks warm, my palm getting sweaty. In no way did Joshua ever made me feel this way. Maybe meeting Chan was fate?

"Fuck you," Joshua spat. "She's coming with me, one way or another." He then steps forward, lunges for me but my boyfriend was faster.

Joshua was on the ground out cold while Chan unclenched his fist, his knuckles already bruising. "Motherfucker," he hisses in pain when his eyes catch me. Then he's in front of me, his boba amber eyes scanning my face as he cupped my face. "Baby, are you okay? Please tell me you're okay."

"I'm okay," I say nodding.

He grabs my hand. "Let's go."

"Where we going?"

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

"Chan, this is..." I'm in awe. The beautiful dresses with the pretty accessories and shoes are laid in front of me as more are being laid out by one of the employees in the boutique we were currently in.

"Get the handbags too," Chan orders to the employee standing beside me. When she leaves, he walks over to me. "Pick whichever you like."

"But Channie, this is too much."

"Why?"

"Because it's too much!" I motion towards the items on the couch. "I don't think I should be the one to wear these..."

"Hey," he tilts my chin up with his finger. "You are the most beautiful woman on this earth and you deserve all the love you can get." He picks one blue dress and hands it to me. "Besides, it's your birthday tomorrow. I'm getting a head start."

I giggle. "You love spoiling me, don't you?"

"Always have, baby," he smiles, winking at me.

For the next 2 hours, I try on the dresses and most of them I found very revealing. Obviously, I wasn't going to pick them but Chan insisted on me showing him all the dresses wearing them. "Channie, I practically feel naked in this."

"Yeah?" He walks over, nose diving in my neck as he sniff. "Do you want me to take them off of you?"

I lightly push him away when he laughs at my reaction. "Maybe I'll wear them just for you."

"You won't be wearing any clothes with just me, sweetheart."

I gape at him before fully pushing him away as he laughs. I go back to trying on the clothes and shoes. By the end, Chan paid for all of the dresses, shoes and any accessories that came with it. "Channie, these are too much. It's not going to fit in my closet."

Shutting the trunk to his car, he types something on his phone as he sits in the driver seat. "Put them in my place then."

"Chan-"

"Just a thought."

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

The next day, I was out with my best friend eating burger and fries in the car before heading to the mall when my phone buzzes and I smile at the name popping up.

C: baby, where are you?

Y/N: i'm out with Lisa about to head to the mall

C: baby, I put a little something in your handbag before you left.

Opening my bag, I gasp. Waddles of cash sitting snug besides my wallet.

Y/N: channie, wtf

C: ;) enjoy, baby. I'll see you tonight.

"Holy shit," Lisa gasps peering into my bag. "Where am I going to find a sugar daddy?"

I roll my eyes as I glance at my phone again. Smiling, I pop a fry in my mouth when I see three dots forming.

C: princess, happy birthday. You're the most prettiest woman i know and i wouldn't have it any other way. When i look at you, i see that smile and my heart skips a beat. I love your smiles, laugh and that cute little button nose of yours. I love you dont question me spoiling you. I spoil you because i want to and i love it because when i see your eyes shine with excitement, it makes my heart grow in size.

I'm full blown crying and Luna is just in pure shock to see me cry like this because I never cry. "Sorry, he's just being sweet," I say, wiping my cheeks.

Then I look back to my phone.

C: when i look at you, my heart beats faster. When we started dating, you looked at me like i was normal, and not some dude loaded with money. You saw me. And I'm very glad you're in my life. So baby, enjoy your day. And i'll be here, my arms wide for you.

Fuck.

After calming down, Luna and I do some shopping at the mall. I bought some stuff and one of them was for Chan. I wonder if he will like it.

By the time we were done, it was around 4pm. When I dropped Luna home, I whipped out my phone.

Y/N: channie where are you?

C: home. Why?

Changing the gear, I speed my way through traffic. Parking my car on the driveway, I ring his doorbell and wait patiently but it's Felix who opens the door.

"Oh, hey Y/N."

"Felix, where is he?" I was dying to tell him. No, I needed to tell him.

"In his room upstairs," Felix stands aside letting my pass by.

I make a beeline for the stairs and see him closing the door of his room. "Oh," he says when he finally sees me as I walk towards him. "Y/N, baby how was shopp-"

His words die short when I fling myself at him, my arms around his neck and my lips crashing on his, catching him off guard. But his hands lands on my back,and moan on his lips. "Y/N, what-"

"I love you."

His whole body freezes against mine. I had wanted him to be the first to say but fuck the rules, am I right?

"What?" He whisper-asks.

I smile, giggling. "You heard me."

"Say it again."

"I love you," I replied as he hugs me, his face burying in my hair.

"Again."

"I love you." He squeezes me tight, sighing into my neck.

"Fuck," he curses. "I had been waiting to hear those words, baby, because I love you too."

He then takes out a silver bracelet from the back of his pocket. A lot of diamonds. "One of these days, I'm going to take all your credit cards and cut them with the scissors. Right in the middle."

He grins before putting the bracelet on my wrist. "This is so pretty!"

"Like you," he yanks me flushed against him. My cheeks heat.

"You know you still have to show me that collection of yours."

"Yeah?" He turns the doorknob of his room and opens it, his gaze hardening.

Not wasting another second, I throw my arms around him. Our lips crash with each other, dancing as he walks back entering his room and closes the door.

That night we gave in to each other's desires, more so him but for me, it was the best birthday gift ever.

P.S. i gave what i bought him at the mall. It was a necklace with a crescent pendant. He doesn't ever take it off.

#bang chan #christopher bang #stray kids bang chan #chris bang #stray kids #bang chan fanfic #fanfic #straykids #skz fanfic #skz #skz x y/n #sugardaddy #fluff

[mingisdoll]

Easter drabble

Includes: bunny!Seonghwa, afab!witch!reader, mentions of other members but will mainly be Seonghwa centralized, set around the Easter holiday (sorta), cursing, mentions of being controlled and manipulated, mentions of hunting and killing

@newworldnet

"Why the fuck are we in Wonderland again?" You asked your sister as you walked alongside both her and your other sister. "It's not for me. It's for Zelena. Lately, she's been stressed since she feel she hasn't given little Robin the childhood she deserves even though it isn't true." Regina explained.

You were the youngest of the Mills family. Regina Mills was the middle child, the mayor of Storybrooke and the Good Queen. Zelena Mills was the oldest of the three of you and the Wicked Witch. The Good Witch was already taken so Zelena stuck to her original title despite not being wicked anymore.

"I mean the little girl seems fine to me. She's always smiling and telling me how Zelena is a good mom. So why go through all this trouble?" You asked Regina and the queen shrugged. "I'm not too sure honestly. But hey. She did help us with that one mission so consider this like an IOU or something." You nodded firmly and shrugged off any more questions you had.

As you trekked through the seemingly restored landscape, you tried to lock away the painful memories that pertained to this realm.

There was a reason you ran away from here and became a wanderer.

You zoned out for a few minutes until you heard a twig snap. You immediately stood back-to-back with Regina as you both summoned fireballs in your hands. You were alert and prepared. Something rustled in the tall grass above you and the two of you set your eyes on it.

"I know you don't need the reminder since you grew up here, but be prepared, sis. Just because this realm is ruled by good people now doesn't mean that the dangers here stopped lurking around." Regina advised you and you nodded firmly in agreement. A head popped out of the grass and you were ready to aim

Until you saw two large pink bunny ears poking out of the top of the critter's head. Or should I say

The hybrid's head.

You were no stranger to hybrids, but Regina was. Hence why you stepped in between her and the quivering bunny. His big boba like eyes were shiny and almost brimming with tears. He seemed so lost and you'd punch yourself if you ever saw a tear go down his pretty face.

"Let me handle this."

Regina nodded slowly and diminished her fireball before stepping away a bit upon hearing your voice. You stepped forward and the bunny relaxed a bit yet remained apprehensive at your form.

He knew you. Or knew of you. After all, you still remained the most powerful person in all of Wonderland. His fluffle cowered in fear every time you walked past them. They heard rumors that you changed. They didn't believe it. Or at least half of his fluffle didn't believe it. Three other bunnies believed it. He was the only one that was debating.

Until you reached out and pet his ears, lightly patting down the soft pink fur.

The bunny relaxed under your touch and started thumping his foot a bit. His tail twitched and he visibly relaxed. He cursed himself internally for giving in so easily. Then again, he was a bunny. And perhaps his subconscious wanted to trust you.

"Hey. I'm sorry if we both scared you. We're on a mission right now and we happened to run into you. You know who we are huh?" You saw the bunny nod cutely, finding it endearing as his ears flopped along with his head.

"She's the Good Queen and you're the Demonic Ace."

A weak chuckle escaped at your title and he grew afraid since he thought you were going to smite him for messing up. When you saw the fear in his eyes, you sighed. "I may be the Demonic Ace, but I've turned my life around. Merlin cured me of my self-inflicted curse and our mother is long gone. So it's ok. We're the good guys now."

Regina saw the way you looked heartbroken and her own heart felt pain when your voice wavered as you tried to reassure him that you were a good person. Cora may have turned her life around in the Underworld, but it didn't excuse the pain and torture you went through when you used to live here and make Wonderland a living hell thanks to her. Stepping forward, it was her turn to speak.

"You look like you're on the run from something. May we help?" She asked him gently and he nodded quickly. He pointed behind him and whispered shakily.

"The Queen of Hearts may be gone, but some of her card soldiers still remain since they don't like the new rulers. They went rogue and they're rabid. Like... Lost Boy rabid."

You grimaced and you felt your powers rise to the surface of your palms. However, you remained calm. "Where's the rest of your fluffle? The queen will protect you. Are they hunting you down?" He quickly nodded.

"Our leader was taken by them and they won't stop until they kill all of us. Please help me!" He was crying now and you felt the urge to hug him yet you stood still and just watched him with sad eyes. Then he surged forward and hugged you tightly, which caught you off guard. Nonetheless, you hugged him back and glared at Regina when she sent you a teasing look.

"What's your name and what's your leader's name? We will help you." You asked the pink bunny and tried not to blush when the sweet critter nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck.

"Our leader's name is Hongjoong. My name is Seonghwa."

You smiled at him gently and held his face carefully when the bunny looked at you with shiny eyes. "Well it's nice to meet you, Seonghwa. The queen's name is Regina and I'm Y/N. Now go with her and lead her to where the rest of your fluffle is. I'll track down the card soldiers and rescue your leader. Ok?" The bunny nodded and reluctantly let you go.

"Be careful please."

You cooed softly at the way he was so concerned about you and you patted the top of his head gently. He giggled and you just about combust with cute aggression.

"I will."

With that, you teleported to the deepest parts of Wonderland to rescue this proclaimed leader of the hybrid's fluffle.

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

It was a mess.

Well, the rescue went fine. You took down the card soldiers with ease.

It was getting the orange furred bunny back to the location of Seonghwa's fluffle that made it a mess.

Hence, the way that Seonghwa was scolding Hongjoong when you came back with him covered in bites and scratches. Regina was busy telling tales of her adventures to the other bunnies to quell their fears while you were in the corner healing your wounds. After the loudness settled down, you saw a familiar head of pink fur hop over to you and sit in front of you. You smiled weakly upon seeing his pout when he gave you a once-over.

"Joong sends his apologies. He would've done it himself like I advised him to, but he feels embarrassed." He took the rag from you and patted your face gently.

Those card soldiers were a bit strong.

"It's ok. I forgive him. And I don't really blame him for what he did to me. But hey. At least I proved to the rest of your fluffle that I'm trustworthy."

Seonghwa nodded and hugged you again. "Thank you for protecting us." He said softly as he rubbed your back. "It's no problem. All within a day's work I guess." I reassured him. He then looked at me. His eyes were sparkling with wonder.

"Is Storybrooke nice? My fluffle and I heard about that place and we tried to find a way to get there but to no avail." You nodded and he smiled. "Can we go with you and Regina? Please?!" You were about to answer when you saw the others crowd around you with sparkling eyes as well. I saw the approval on Regina's face and I nodded when I looked at him once again.

"Yes you can."

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

That was months ago. You recalled that day randomly as you sat in your new apartment that overlooked the quaint town of Storybrooke. As you stood there and leaned against the railing of your balcony, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and you saw the familiar mop of pink fur nuzzle your neck and give light kisses.

You fell in love with Seonghwa and he returned your feelings.

"Hey."

He muttered against your skin and you greeted him back softly.

"Did you finally escape little Robin trying to tug at your ears after screaming over the fact that the Easter bunny does indeed exist in excitement?" You teased him and he blushed in embarrassment.

"Yeah. The rest of the guys are currently hiding right now. Did you seriously have to tell Zelena's kid that there were eight Easter bunnies? I figured this favor we're doing for you was easy but it isn't. And it doesn't help that Wooyoung is being a little shit by helping her, especially with Yeosang."

"Well can you blame her? Orange, pink, blue, purple, yellow, black, and brown are pretty common colors for bunny hybrids. But indigo? That's rare."

As you listed off the fur colors of Hongjoong, your lover, Yunho, San, Mingi, Wooyoung, and Jongho, you can't help but giggle at the thought of poor Yeosang and his uniquely colored indigo fur. Seonghwa simply sighed and held you closer to him.

"Happy Easter, my jack of spades."

"Happy Easter, bun."

#newworldnet #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader

[ahdraftingco]

Chapter One: Never Sleep With A Thief | Series: Lesson Learned

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

AO3 Crosspost: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40653303

Rating: Explicit, readers are advised to read the warnings below before proceeding.

Series Warnings (in no particular order): Porn with Plot, Dark!Din Djarin, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hate Sex, Master/Slave Relationship, Knife Play (Minor Cuts/Blood), BDSM, Rough Sex, Genuine Fear, Sexual Coercion, Power Play, Degradation, Face Slapping, Spanking, Choking, Gagging, Enemies to Lovers, Possessive Behavior, Spit, Forced Orgasms, Hair Pulling, Multiple Orgasms, Threats of Violence, References to Death/Suicide, Book of Boba Fett Spoilers

Chapter Summary: The Mandalorian is tired of your shit. You're nothing but a low-life thief, constantly plucking parts off his ship or stealing weapons off his body or credits from his pack. How do you keep running into him and why have you made him your target for this kind of persistent harassment? Well, your reign of terror ends now. When you're imprisoned in Mos Espa, it's finally time for the Mandalorian to get his revenge.

Word Count: 9.6k+

A/N: Please read through ALL the series warnings before deciding to proceed and note that all of my work is for adults only so minors DNI. 

You can't hear what they're saying. It's all hushed murmurs. All you can assume is that they're making a deal. The Mandalorian wants you, after all. He has been trying to catch you this entire time and yet you've evaded him on every single occasion.

If only you had realized he actually had friends and that one of those friends included the Daimyo of Mos Espa, Lord Fett. There's some regret coursing through your veins, though it mostly involves you cursing yourself over not planning your heist more diligently. Had you known the full extent of the possible consequences of your actions, maybe you wouldn't have gotten greedy and tried to steal more than you needed from Lord Fett.

You watch as the Mandalorian strolls over to your cell and you know he has a smug expression on his face under that helmet of his. You didn't need to see it to know how satisfying it must be for him to see you in chains like this.

"You're mine now, thief." His modulated voice spurs a bit as he spits those words out to you.

Your lips curve into a smile, the kind of smile you put on just to annoy the shit out of him. If he has a smug expression on his face, why can't you too? You deserve to have a little fun, especially considering what's in store for you.

"It doesn't really feel like I'm yours." You take a stab at him with your words. "The truth is, you could never catch me and you're just lucky Lord Fett did. How much did you pay for me?"

"You were on the house." He draws an uncontrollable laugh from your lips. That's funny. Of course, not only can he not capture you on his own, he gets gifted you for free!

What a laughable scenario.

It's obvious he doesn't like that you're laughing at him because the moment he opens the door to your cell, his hand finds its way around your throat, slamming you into the rock wall.

"I don't want to hear another sound out of you." He grips your neck so tight that you're genuinely afraid he might snap it. "You aren't allowed to speak anymore, unless you want your tongue ripped out."

You open your mouth to say something but that slight action is met with a slap in the face. His leather glove lands a blow right across your left cheek and you can already feel it start to swell.

"Don't fucking test me or I'll make it hurt worse than that." The Mandalorian is deadly serious and you squeeze your lips together until they're practically a straight line, not daring to make even the slightest of sounds. "That's better. Now, walk."

He lets go of your neck and you drop back onto your feet, gasping for air. You expect him to give you a second to breathe but you instead feel the barrel of his blaster against your back, making you stiffen up. He bends down to grab a hold of your chains then he presses the barrel harder into you so you know to start moving.

You try not to stumble on the chains but it's hard to walk on the sandy stone floors with bare feet. You were stripped down to nothing but a plain tunic and distressed pants when you were captured. They didn't give you the luxury of shoes. Cheap bastards.

The sun blinds you as you step out from the underground prison and into the hot desert sands of Tatooine. Your feet burn with every step and you realize that's the point. Every breath you take, you taste sand on your tongue. You normally have a mask on but you weren't given that either. You just have to suffer through the sunburns and sand scratches.

It's a long trek until you and the Mandalorian make it to some cave. There's a N-1 starfighter parked outside of the entrance and you're a bit surprised to see that he owns such a nice ship. He used to have this tacky Razor Crest which was all too easy to pick apart. You kind of miss it. It was easy to stow away on. He never checked the storage room.

Your feet are finally freed from the torturously hot sand and you step back onto cold sandstone floors. The cave seems to be a makeshift home of sorts, though a bit dingy. There's just enough stuff for a man like the Mandalorian. Nothing more, nothing less, though you did like the natural oasis. It's a small pool of water but enough to bathe in if needed.

Is that the point of him dragging you all the way here? You wonder as he unlocks all your chains except for your handcuffs. However, he doesn't give you much time to think when he puts his blaster away and pulls out a blade.

"If you don't want me to hurt you, stand still." The Mandalorian walks up to you with the sharp knife and you hold your breath.

He grips the collar of your shirt and ever so slowly, he drags the blade downwards, ripping through the fabric. The tip of the blade grazes your skin so lightly that you don't even realize he pierced some of it until the air hits your newly formed cut. You look down and there's just the tiniest line starting from between your breasts and ending right above your belly button. It starts to ooze tiny specks of blood and you shiver as the Mandalorian drags his gloved finger alongside it. He doesn't touch the cut directly, but it's close enough that you forcibly bite back a whimper not to react to the feeling.

"I like this look on you." His helmet shifts from your chest to your eyes. "Afraid."

You want to tell him to go fuck himself and that you aren't afraid of him. He's nothing but a hunk of walking metal that can easily be pickpocketed. However, you value your life more than insulting him so you keep your mouth shut like he wanted you to.

"Take off your pants." He presses the flat side of his knife against your chin, lifting your face up to look at his helmet. "Keep your eyes on me."

You go to unbutton your pants, wriggling out of them as best as you can while handcuffed. Eventually, they drop to the ground and you step out of them, kicking them aside. Now, you're left in just your underwear and a shirt that's been torn straight down the middle. It's becoming fairly obvious what he intends to do with you now.

"Tell me, thief. Will this be your first time?"

Does he expect you to answer?

After a long stare down, you feign ignorance to ask, "first time doing what?"

If he didn't have the helmet on, you are sure he's smiling menacingly at you as he drags the blade down your body once again, only this time, he held it by the metal, letting you feel the hard shaft until it rested right up against your underwear. He glides it back to front before pressing the hilt where your clit sits and you try your best not to squirm at the feeling. You expected the grip of the blade to be plastic or metal, but it's actually lined with a softer material, possibly the same leather as his gloves, black and rounded at the base. He swirls it in place as he taunts you.

"I can't tell if you're inexperienced or not. It would be more fun to break a virgin but I'll break you either way." The Mandalorian is trying to instill fear into you now.

What does he mean by break?

"I'm not a virgin." You state aloud, answering his question.

"Hmph." He sounds disappointed, which is why you said it. "Then, how many have gotten to use this body of yours?"

That's just fucking demeaning of him to ask like that. However, he's allowing you to speak so you choose your words wisely to make up for it, "are you asking because you want to know or because you're jealous none of them were you?"

The Mandalorian pushes into you with the hilt of the blade and you jolt upwards instinctively. It wasn't a hard shove but it was definitely enough to cause panic to run through every nerve in your body.

"You're going to wish you had just answered me politely." He flips the blade in his hand and you are suddenly brought to a complete freeze.

You can feel the tip of the blade against the fabric of your underwear. Your breathing starts to get uncontrollably erratic. The panic is really setting in now. The genuine fear.

You squeeze your eyes shut the moment you feel the cold steel of the blade sneak beneath the fabric of your underwear. The flat side grazes your skin and you can't breathe anymore. You fear that if you let out even the tiniest breath, the blade will stab you somewhere incredibly unpleasant.

The Mandalorian basks in your terror. "Aww, look at you. A pretty little thief, all shaken up. Not so confident anymore, are we?"

A rip echoes through the silent cave as he pulls the blade through your underwear on one side, tearing it to shreds. The remaining fabric doesn't sit long on your other thigh as he digs the blade through that portion as well. You feel the fabric drop down your legs and now you're exposed completely from the waist down.

Your hands tremble and you don't realize it until you hear it for yourself, the rattling of your handcuffs making your nerves fully apparent. You open your eyes and you're met with the blade staring right at you. You hiccup involuntarily which draws a frightening laugh from the Mandalorian.

"Who knew you were so scared of sharp objects? Maybe if I had tried stabbing you instead of shooting at you, you wouldn't have become such a bother." He moves the blade to brush along your shoulders and you watch him tear into the sleeves of your shirt until both sides are torn apart enough to fall off your body completely.

Now, you're bare in front of the Mandalorian, wearing nothing but the handcuffs you were imprisoned with. You ball your hands into fists, trying to stabilize yourself, while the blade makes rounds along your bare skin. He takes his time, dragging lines across every inch of your skin with the flat side of the blade. It's only when you flinch or move that he pricks you just a tiny bit with the sharp side. Enough to draw blood, but not enough for it to actually hurt. They're all small, superficial cuts. He's marking you in his own way, since he can't use his teeth. The blade does the work for him and you're forced to stand and power through it.

All the while, the Mandalorian degrades you, "what a pathetic girl you are. Always getting on my nerves, always causing me trouble. Look at the way you cower before me at the sight of a tiny blade. Do you want to see something even scarier, little thief?"

He plucks the blade from your skin, leaving a final nick before placing it back in his boot. Then, he pulls out something else and you can't contain your gasp while he activates it.

That's…the DarkSaber.

The Mandalorian is holding it firmly in his hands. It glows that pure black, radiating a kind of power that sends shivers all over your body.

Suddenly, he brings up the blade, as if he's going to slice through you. And, he does. He slices right at you. You let a scream out from the depths of your stomach, filled with pure fear, as you hear metal hit the floor.

Your heart leaps out of your chest as you look down and see that he has broken through your handcuffs and you're now free from them. They sit, melted partially on the floor. You slowly tilt your head up to look back at the Mandalorian, who puts the DarkSaber away.

"You shouldn't have moved. You could've lost your hand." He taunts you and you shudder at his words.

What did you do to deserve this? Yes, you were a nuisance to him. You stole from his ship. You stowed away on his ship. You pocketed his credits and sold some of his weapons. You did a lot of things you're growing to regret now.

You didn't know the Mandalorian was a madman. You assumed he wasn't because he had that child creature thing with him. He was softer, easier to swipe stuff from when the kid was around. Did you happen to piss him off at the wrong time? Did he lose the kid and now he's taking his frustrations out on you?

Fuck, you really shouldn't have been greedy in Mos Espa…

"You're filthy." He shoves you slightly and you have to catch yourself before you land your bare ass on the ground. "Go bathe. You wouldn't want those cuts to get infected."

The Mandalorian says it as if he gives a shit, which you know he doesn't. You have no idea how clean that blade he used was. For all you know, you could already be infected with something.

You manage to walk over to the oasis and get in, submerging yourself in the water. You debate, for just a moment, taking a deep breath underwater, but you know you wouldn't drown that easily. He probably wouldn't let you drown. You're more valuable to him alive right now. He can't fuck with you otherwise.

When you resurface, the Mandalorian is there, knelt beside the pool of water, holding a bar of soap. You take it from him and he nods at you. He watches as you wash up. You hand him back the soap when you're done and he leaves then. You soak for a minute longer until he comes back with a towel. Wow, he's letting you dry off. How courteous. You stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him when you take the towel, helping yourself out of the bath.

You dry yourself off as best as you can, then you give him back the towel, since you know he's not going to let you keep it.

"I guess you are smarter than you look." His praise comes off more as an insult and you hold back the desire to glare at him. "Go sit on the bed."

You glance over at the makeshift bed set up he has. It's just a mattress with several loose sheets on top of it and a larger comforter for the colder nights. He doesn't even have any pillows.

What kind of person doesn't sleep with a pillow? A madman.

You do as you're told because you'd rather not be sliced in half by the DarkSaber. You sit on the mattress on your knees, since it's the only position that lets you hide at least some of yourself. He definitely doesn't like that because he towers over you and snaps his fingers, gesturing for you to open your legs.

"Do I need to say it or are you going to listen to me?" His words have a bite to them and you chew the inside of your cheek in response.

You aren't trying to be defiant. You just need some time to weigh your options. If you listen to him, you'll be giving in and there's no telling what he's going to do. If you don't listen to him, you run the risk of dying by the hands of a Mandalorian.

After deliberating, you lean back on your hands, bending your knees and spreading your legs open for him. You look away because you feel terribly exposed. This is unlike anything you've ever done. There's something about the way you can't see how he's looking at you that lights a fire inside of you. You don't know what this feeling is.

Is it shame? Embarrassment? Arousal?

Are you seriously getting the hots for a man you've never even seen before? You can't say you don't know what he's packing beneath the armor. You've felt him up on multiple occasions in the middle of crowded bazaars to pickpocket him. You know what's under there but do you actually want to know?

You wish he would say something. Or at least do something. It's filling you with such an unbearable heat just laying here like this.

"Interesting." That's the word he says when he finally speaks up again. He doesn't say anything except for that.

Not until he gets on the bed too, filling the space beside you. You turn to him then, looking at him once again, and you're immediately yanked towards him. The Mandalorian isn't holding any of his strength back as he seats you in the space between his legs with your back pressed up against him. He has his back resting on the cave's wall and his hands settle at your thighs, keeping your legs open so he can stare at you.

You know he's staring because his helmet is in the crook of your neck, shifted downwards. It's cold but you strangely don't mind it because your internal temperature is so hot. You feel the beskar plates against your bare skin and all of them are just as cold as his helmet.

There's a shine to them, like he's just polished the beskar. You like shiny things. You have an affinity for stealing them but you've never thought of swiping an armor plate from the Mandalorian. Beskar is rather valuable, but he would track you down too quickly for you to be able to pawn it at a good price.

"Why are you staring at me?" He asks and you can't hold in a small chuckle. You want to ask him the exact same thing.

"I never realized how pretty beskar is up close." You reach up, touching the side of his helmet with your hands. "It sparkles ever so subtly."

"You're sitting naked in my arms and you're thinking about my armor?" He's amused, at least that's what you think his tone is depicting.

"More or less, I was thinking about why I've never stolen a piece of your armor before." You smirk, even though you know you shouldn't.

"If you stole any of my beskar, I would kill you the moment I found you." His words are as icy cold as his chestplate feels against your back.

"Why kill me?" You ask genuinely. "It seems like you're having more fun with me alive."

"You don't seem all that scared of me anymore if you're asking questions. Have you forgotten what I can do?" He snaps at you and you bite back your next set of words, straightening up. "Ah, there she is. Just needed a little reminder of who owns you now."

"Do you own me now?" You know you shouldn't talk back but you want to know what kind of situation you're in. "Did Lord Fett give me away in some kind of slave contract?"

"He gave me two choices: kill you or take you. So, I guess that answers your question."

It would've been equally unpleasant to die in that cell but…to be given away as a slave? You can't live life like that. You value freedom. That's why you're a thief. You liked not depending on anything but raw skill. No attachments. You don't take jobs, you don't deal with people. You just steal from them.

But now? What are you now that you're a slave?

"What do I call you then? Master?" You say it teasingly which you regret instantly because his hand catches your throat, choking you all too quickly.

"You really can't learn your lesson, can you?" He shakes his head in disappointment, tightening his hold on your throat.

The Mandalorian is squeezing so hard that you might actually black out. You gasp for air but the air doesn't make it to your lungs. Your body is flailing, in desperate need of some kind of oxygen to your brain because you're suffocating. Tears start welling up in your eyes and you know you're going to pass out soon.

"Please." You whimper, unable to say anything but that, clawing at his arm with both of your hands. He's so much stronger than you…

"The next time you speak, it better be an apology." The Mandalorian loosens his grip with those words.

You dry heave, trying to suck up as much air into your lungs as you can, tears pouring out of your eyes. You hiccup again, biting back a sob. It's a real one. You actually want to cry. You've been close to death before but you feel more vulnerable now because you're completely naked.

"I-I'm sorry." Your voice is shaky but you manage to get the apology out as sincere as you can. "I won't do anything to upset you again."

"I wish I believed you." His fingers brush along your bruised neck and tingles run through your whole body in reaction to it. "But you can be such a bratty little thief, making promises she can't keep."

Is that what this is about? You already told him it wasn't you. "I didn't steal it."

"Liar." His grip tightens once again and you squeeze your eyes shut, stopping the tears before they threaten to fall. "You're the only one who could have taken it."

"I…didn't…take…the…ch–" You're fighting for your life to stay awake but your body is growing limp from the lack of air. You can't finish your sentence. You don't have the breath left to.

The Mandalorian allows you to breathe again all of a sudden and there's a tinge of something in his voice when he says, "why won't you admit it?"

You try to catch your breath but you're afraid he'll cut the air off again before you can tell him the truth so you explain through raspy breaths, "I promised I wouldn’t steal anything that belonged to your kid. I never broke that promise. I didn't take the chainmail shirt, I swear."

You lean forward, grasping at your neck, and the Mandalorian doesn't stop you. He moves his hand away, giving you the space you need to refill your lungs. Every inhale you take burns a little, every exhale coming out in a huff.

"But you knew of it." He still doubts you. Is this why he's treating you so harshly?

"The last time I saw you, you had it. I didn't take it though. Even if I wanted to, pawning it would've cut into my plans and I didn't have the time. I only had a small window to rob Lord Fett…" You don't know if he'll believe you but what you're saying is the truth.

You don't normally bargain with the people you steal from but you knew the kid meant something to him, so you agreed that while you wouldn't stop bothering him since he always had fun shit to swipe, you wouldn't dare to take the kid's stuff. It's not in your nature to rob a child anyways.

"You don't have to believe me but just…don't kill me over it." You plead for your life. "I'll be whatever you want me to be, I just don't want to die like this."

You turn your head back to face the Mandalorian and you hope he can see that you're not lying. You will do anything as long as it means you aren't going to die while naked and afraid in some cave in the deserts of Tatooine.

"Then, you'll be my thief." He pulls you against his chest once again and his hands settle back on your inner thighs. "I own you now. You don't get to do anything unless I say so. Do you understand?"

"Yes." You say with a nod.

"Address your Master correctly." He demands.

"I understand, Master." You look at him directly as you tell him, "I won't do anything unless you tell me to. I'm your thief. You own me."

"Good girl." You can almost hear the smile in his voice. "For once, I might actually believe you. Shall I reward your obedience so you'll continue being good?"

Oh, there's not a correct answer to this question, is there? A reward is probably better than a punishment though so you nod in response.

"I need to hear you say it." He's practically holding you on a leash right now.

"Please reward me for being good, Master." You find the words you assume he wants to hear and you must have guessed correctly because you can feel something hard pressing up against your back that isn't beskar.

"Open your mouth." He commands as one of his hands lays over your neck again. His fingers hold your chin upwards, so you can't look down anymore.

You obey, parting your lips. The taste of leather fills your mouth as he shoves his fingers in, curling to feel your tongue.

"Bite, little thief. Steal my glove."

You sink your teeth into the leather and tug on it. The Mandalorian slips his hand out and you don't catch a glimpse of it because his other hand is holding your face so firmly. You go to spit out his glove but then his hand moves from your throat to your mouth, stuffing it all the way in. You gag a little on it before it settles in your mouth. You can already feel the drool building up.

"That'll keep you nice and quiet." He couples those words with a pat on the head, like he's proud of you for taking a glove in the mouth. Before you can really react to that, he already moves on to his next demand, "wrap your arms around my neck."

You lift your arms up and do as you're told, clamping your hands together behind his neck. This gives him quite the view of your breasts from the way you're arched against him.

"Eyes up here." His hand goes back to your throat, holding your face in place so you're just staring at his helmet. "Don't you dare linger anywhere else while I do this."

You nod, wondering what he's going to do. Though, you should've guessed when he freed his hand from his glove what he was planning to do. His bare hand starts to roam your skin, touching every inch of exposed flesh. You swallow sharply when his hand drags over your breasts, grazing your nipples with the rough calluses that have built on his fingertips. Your body quivers at the feeling, which only makes him do it more.

"Someone's getting excited." He mocks you and you bite the glove in your mouth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of coaxing a moan out of you. "You're so cute when you try to hold it in. Are you not liking your reward?"

The Mandalorian must be a sadist. There's nothing rewarding about having your nipples pinched and teased only to move away to touch another part of your skin before the feeling amounts to anything. You try not to get turned on by his touch but your body betrays you as his hand dips between your legs, spreading your folds with his fingers.

"Do you know how wet you are? Here, I'll let you feel it." His fingers drag along your inner thigh and…fuck, you are wet. It completely coats his fingers and it takes him a while to smear it all off on your skin. "You must be aching for an orgasm."

You want to tell him to eat shit but there's a glove in your mouth. Being taunted like this is infuriating and you know he's doing it on purpose to piss you off.

"I like this look on your face, all pent up. I like the way you pretend you don't want it." His fingers move back to feel how slick you are again, tracing upwards until the tips of his fingers find your clit.

You chew on the glove in your mouth, refusing to react but fuck, it feels good. He's applying just the right pressure and rubbing only enough to get a rise out of you. If he keeps this up, you might not be able to hold back. The tension is coiling up in your lower stomach and soon, it'll be desperate to burst free.

"This is supposed to be a reward, so just enjoy yourself. Unless you don't like that I'm the one making you feel good. Is that it?" He growls through the modulator and it comes out with a bigger bite than it should. "You can't stand that your Master is the one giving you this pleasure. Well, pretty little thief, get used to it. I'm going to break you, just like I said I would. One orgasm at a time."

You close your eyes then, trying to focus on not coming. You can't come. The moment you do, he'll use it against you. Or worse, he'll make you come again. It's just frustrating when he's touching you like this.

"Aww, you're trying so hard not to come. It's almost admirable." His sadistic voice vibrates in your ear and it gives you the chills.

You grit your teeth against his glove. You're hurtling towards your breaking point. The pressure building in your body is getting so unbearable to the point where your vision is glossy from the tears in your eyes.

"Stop holding it in." The Mandalorian orders you, his fingers rubbing your clit relentlessly. "Come for your Master."

The moment his hand tightens around your throat again, you can't stop it. You can't. He absolutely broke you because your body forcefully releases all the tension when your breath gets taken away. You lean your head against the side of his helmet, crying out as your orgasm slices through you like the DarkSaber did earlier. It's intense and the pleasure surges through every fiber of your being, causing you to spasm. His arm holds you securely in place, making you feel every second of the orgasm he gave you. You can't run from it. Your vision grows hazy and you're lightheaded from the constant waves of bliss.

That was the hardest you've ever came. You edged yourself for far too long and completely bursted under the pressure of getting choked. You can't breathe, not even when he lets go of your throat. Every breath you swallow is strained and you stare up at the Mandalorian with a tear-stained face. He pulls his glove from your mouth, watching as you have to lick up the drool that threatens to escape your lips.

"Now this version of you, I quite enjoy." His gloved hand caresses your face so gently, wiping the tears away. "So beautiful."

The words spill out of your mouth before you can stop them, "I hate you."

He pinches your cheek in response, tugging you towards him. You're so close to him that your nose is squished up against the visor of his helmet. You glare at him because you know his eyes are in there somewhere.

"I was mistaken." His tone is eerie all of a sudden. "I quite enjoy this version of you much more. Tell me that you hate me again."

"I hate you." You spit on his helmet with every word.

"Then do a better job and don't come this time." His bare hand slides back down your body, finding its way between your thighs yet again. "It would be tragic if the man you hate gave you another full-body orgasm."

You nearly bite your tongue off when he thrusts two fingers inside of you without warning. He chuckles with amusement at your tensed expression.

"You'll get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that." His gloved hand stays caressing your face, contrasting so much from his bare hand which is curling inside of you, digging around to find that spot that makes a moan slip from your lips. "Now, that's a better face to make. Am I in the right place?"

You clench your jaw as the Mandalorian starts to drag the tips of his fingers along that spot that you know will shatter your willpower with every thrust. You pinch your eyes shut, the intensity of his movements bringing tears back to your eyes. It's so strange, feeling the leather softly brush away your tears as his fingers fuck you mercilessly.

It's like you're being touched by two different men. Maybe that's the point. He's attacking your vulnerability on both ends. There's no comfort in his gentle touch. If anything, it's lulling you into a false sense of security and you have to battle with your own mind to remind yourself that you cannot come right now.

You can't let him win. You can't…

The Mandalorian's voice lowers and your resolve melts ever so slightly at his words, "you'll feel so much better once you give in to your Master. Don't you want to feel good, my pretty little thief?"

"No." You bite back, your voice strained beyond belief. "I hate you."

"You can hate me all you want and let me give you an orgasm." He's trying to sway you. "There's no rule that states you have to like me in order to come on my hand."

"I don't want to." You push through, sweating like crazy, your skin set aflame.

The tension is excruciating. You're digging your nails into the back of his neck because it's so difficult to contain yourself. You just want the release. You want to come but you shouldn't. You really shouldn't give in to him but fuck, if he keeps fucking you with his fingers just like this–

"If you can hold on for one more minute, I'll let you take a break." He proposes an alternative to your suffering. "But, if you come in that minute, I'm fucking you right here, right now."

One minute.

You can hold it in for one more minute.

At least, that's what you thought. It got much harder when the Mandalorian started to count down from sixty. Every number lingers on his tongue, purposefully lengthening it to torture you.

Fifty-one.

…

Thirty-seven.

…

Twenty-four.

…

Eleven.

…

Three…Two…One…

If only you realized it was a trick all along.

The moment after he said one, your body completely let go as if the countdown was meant for your orgasm. You came harder than you did earlier, moaning uncontrollably now that you were no longer silenced by his glove. His fingers keep a steady rhythm, prolonging the waves of pleasure that are crashing through you. You sob from the relief of finally getting that sweet release and it isn't until you feel his gloved hand wipe the tears away from your face that you understand why he offered what he did.

The Mandalorian forced you to come again, only this time, it was under the guise of giving you a break from the torment. Why did you come? Why did your body writhe against his fingers? And why do you feel so relieved?

You can't hold your arms up anymore so you drop them down to your sides. You can't really hold your body up anymore so you lean back, letting him bear your weight just a bit. He wraps his arms around you for a moment before laying you down flat on the mattress, scooting over so you can rest your head on his lap. You blink a few times, staring right up at him almost in disbelief at everything that just happened.

"Did you know?" You begin to ask what's on your mind. "Did you know I was going to come right when you finished the countdown?"

He brushes the flyaway hairs out of your face with his gloved hand, hiding his bare one behind him as he answers, "I assumed you would but I placed my bet on you coming right as I said one. You held out longer than I thought. Impressive."

For the first time, you actually believe he's genuinely praising you. You don't know why your heart skips a beat. This man just forced you to come twice. You shouldn't be ogling him but it's hard to differentiate feelings when you're winding down from an orgasmic high.

"Break." You breathe out that single word, hoping he'll know what you're trying to say without you needing to spell it out.

"Yes, you're getting your well-deserved break." His words almost fill you with as much euphoria as the orgasm did. "Try to enjoy it."

You watch intently as he keeps brushing his fingers through your hair, his helmet tilted down to look at you. Why is he staring at you like this? Why are you letting him? The way he pats your head is so soft compared to his rather violent previous actions. You almost close your eyes and ease into his touch.

Almost.

The Mandalorian gets up before you can, his bare hand still out of your sight, tucked in his pocket this time. You assume he's going to grab a fresh glove and you're right. He comes back to sit on the edge of the mattress looking completely the same as he always does, as if he didn't just make you into an absolute mess.

Out of compulsion, you ask because you feel way too bare when seeing him so clothed, "can I put on a shirt?"

"Ask properly and I might consider it." His tone is oddly gentle.

"May I please put on a shirt, Master?" You formulate what you believe is the correct response.

"Better." He pats your head softly again and your heart skips a beat once more.

It takes him a while but he eventually brings you a shirt to wear. It surprisingly fit well, which makes you think he took the time to look for something that would suit your body. You shake that thought away. Why would he think anything like that of you?

"Just don't steal it." He tells you and you can't contain your chuckle.

"No promises." You lay back down on the mattress, cuddled up in the new shirt, feeling much more comfortable.

"Always a thief." He shakes his head at you and you smile for some reason.

"You forgot the pretty little part." You jab at him with your words.

"That's not the only part I left out." The Mandalorian nudges you until you're laying on your back and he's on top of you, holding you down with his body weight. "I also omitted the fact that you're mine now. My pretty little thief."

Your heart needs to stop pounding over him. He's your Master now. You need to find a way to escape, not daydream of staying. He really fucked with your head by making you feel so uncontrollably good.

"I still hate you." You remind him of the reality.

"For now." He says it almost like it's a promise that he'll change your mind.

"Forever." You state firmly and he must view that as a challenge because his hand goes back to your neck.

"Such a bratty girl." He shakes his head at you. "When are you going to learn your lesson?"

Your reflection stares back at you in the shine of his helmet. Wow, you really look freshly fucked. That's…something. You don't know what to do with that information. All you know is that the Mandalorian is seeing exactly that too.

"I assume the break is over now." You grab a hold of his arm with your hands, wanting some kind of control in case he starts choking you.

"Your break is over, but I'm not done breaking you." His words make you roll your eyes at him and he welcomes that with a firmer grip around your throat. "I'd really like it if I didn't have to snap your neck today."

"Tragic how we can't always get what we want." You can't help yourself. You were never that good at being submissive.

"First, you're afraid to die and now, you're asking for it. What a strange girl you are." His tone is indecipherable. Was he berating you? Or, is there genuine confusion there?

"Says the strange Mandalorian." You pull a soft chuckle out of him with that.

"What makes me strange?" He wants you to humor him.

"Everything." You glance up and down, observing the way he's settled on top of you right now, fitting himself well in the space provided. "I don't get why you're so fixated on me."

That draws a louder laugh out of him. "Shouldn't I be asking you that same question? You're the nuisance I need to subdue."

"I like shiny things." You reach up, running your fingers along the curves of his helmet like you had done earlier. "You're a walking hunk of very shiny metal. It's almost too good to resist."

"There are other Mandalorians." He rebuttals.

"There are other thieves." You counter.

"None as pretty as you."

You blink when he says that. Did he just say that? His words linger in the air for a moment because you…you don't know what to say back.

Is he being serious? Or is he just fucking with you?

"Is this the part where I act flattered or cuss you out?" You decide to go the comedic route, since it's easier to hide behind humor.

"This is the part where you flip over and I fuck you until our bodies are imprinted into this mattress." He lets go of your neck at that moment, waiting for you to listen.

You don't, obviously, because you feel like pushing the limits a bit more. "What if I say no?"

"Then I'll fuck you until you start screaming yes." A sort of thrill sparks through you when he says that. It shouldn't, but it does.

"Is that your Master plan? Fucking me into submission?" You throw in a little pun, grinning to yourself over it.

"Your Master has a lot of plans for you." His voice deepens into a tone so chilling, you get goosebumps. "This is just one of them."

"You won't break me." You stare up at him, brimming with confidence. "I'm going to hate you no matter what."

"I look forward to you choking on your own words. Now, flip over, or I'll make you." He threatens and an electric shock surges through you.

You shouldn't, but you do. You say, "make me" and that's all it takes for him to flip back to that sadistic side he's been suppressing this whole time.

The leather smacks you immediately, swiping you right across the face like it did earlier. You groan, your jaw aching from the contact. That's going to sting later.

"Flip. Over." He repeats his command.

"Fuck. You." You remain defiant.

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" The Mandalorian sounds frustrated now. Did he really think one slap was going to sway you? That's laughable.

"I don't know. Are you trying to be a little bitch?" You smirk at your own response and it's met with yet another slap. You dart your eyes straight to where you believe his are in the helmet and say, "wow, you really are a little bitch. Can't flip over a pretty little thief on your own?"

"Oh, I can. I was just giving you the opportunity to make things easier for you, but if you want to be a fucking brat, I'll treat you like one."

Without a sliver of hesitation, the Mandalorian lifts you both up in one go, before throwing you across his lap. Your chest connects with his thighs rather roughly, winding you in the process. Before you can even catch your breath, his hand collides with your ass and you scream because fuck! That hurt.

"Aww, did I hit you too hard?" He rubs the tender flesh with his hand as the other hand grabs both of your wrists, pinning them to your back so you can't worm your way out. "Should I be a little gentler?"

He's toying with you so you don't dare give him the satisfaction of your scream again. When you end up not answering him, he slaps your ass again. You bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood but you don't scream from the impact this time.

"Are you trying to keep quiet? Well, I can help with that."

You should've seen this coming. The familiar taste of leather invades your mouth as he stuffs his glove in, silencing you once more. You don't know if you feel thankful or not. He won't get to hear you scream but he's the one who gagged you. You chew on the glove in frustration, hoping to tear it to shreds and force him to get new ones.

"It looks like you forgot what my bare hand could do." His fingers press up against your entrance and your eyes widen. "Oh, there she is, remembering."

In a single fluid motion, he thrusts three fingers inside of you and you muffle a scream into the glove. Fuck, his fingers are so thick and they're deep inside of you at this angle. Your mind wanders to how his cock must feel and you have to shove that thought away.

Somehow, the Mandalorian catches you, like he can read your mind. "Are you imagining the way my cock will feel? Because I'll tell you, if you think you feel full now with my fingers, just wait until my cock is buried inside of you."

You muffle another scream into his glove as he starts to curl his fingers again, finding that spot that makes your body quiver. How does he know exactly the right pace to get you to whimper and convulse at his touch?

"Hmm." A pensive sound leaves his helmet. "I realize you're having all the fun. We should change that."

The Mandalorian shifts slightly and you don't understand why until his hand lets go of your wrists. You can, theoretically, push yourself off him right now but your hands have lost all feeling from being squeezed at the wrists. It doesn't matter to him that you can't feel your hands. All he cares about is that you have one of them stroking his hard cock while he fucks you with his fingers.

"Hand out, now." He instructs and you face the hand closest to him with the palm up in front of him. You hear him lift the helmet slightly but you don't dare look back.

The Mandalorian proceeds to spit on your hand and you get the shivers each time he does it, which only compounds with the feeling of his fingers thrusting inside of you.

It feels…degrading.

Once he thinks you've had enough, he drops his helmet back on and guides your hand to his cock, showing you how he wants to be touched. You don't know why you actually obey. You're just too curious, finally feeling his cock between your fingers. You can't see him, not when you're sprawled over his lap like this, but you can gauge the size based on your hand and fuck, he's huge. Not just in length but the girth too. Your hand barely closes around him.

"All you have to do is say please and I'll give you my cock." He tells you in such a low whisper that you have to parse his words out between the wet sounds filling the air.

Over my dead body is what you'd say if you could but you have a glove in your mouth and moans overtaking your every breath. You're getting close to coming again and you know the moment you do, he's ramming his cock inside of you. You hate how secretly excited you are to be fucked by him. You know you shouldn't want it, but your hand is wrapped around him and you can't help wondering what he'll feel like pounding inside of you just like his fingers are right now.

The Mandalorian is going to split you in half and you're desperately trying not to look forward to it, but the closer you get to your orgasm, the more your body craves him. It's instinctual, this innate primal desire. You love how overpowering he is, even if it scares you.

Maybe that's why when you can no longer hold it in and you come all over his fingers, you mumble out the word please in your daze. You're still riding the high of your orgasm when the Mandalorian picks you up and positions you where you're sitting on his lap with your back against his chest and his cock beneath you. He lowers you slowly until you feel his cock line up with your entrance, pushing just the tip in.

Then, he reaches up, pulling the glove from your mouth. You take in a deep breath as he goes, "if you want my cock, do the work yourself."

You let out a laugh at his words and then say, "fuck you."

"Are you being ungrateful? I'm offering for you to take me at your own pace and this is how you act?" He sounds more angry than usual. "You must really want to be fucked into submission."

His hands grip your hips and before you can utter a single word in response, he forces you down onto his cock. Tears spill out of your eyes all of a sudden as he stretches you out, his cock throbbing inside of you. You've never been this full before.

Your hands reach forward, holding onto his thighs for leverage. You can't move. If you do, he's going to move inside of you and you don't think you can handle that.

That doesn't matter to him, though. With your hands clinging onto his thighs, he lifts your hips, pulling you off his cock just a bit before ramming you back down onto his lap. You scream when the tip of his cock hits a spot so deep inside of you that you couldn't believe it actually happened until he did it again.

You're on the cusp of another orgasm and you don't know how. Penetration has never felt this good. There's something about him that makes it different than all the others you've experienced. It must just be being treated harshly by him that has you seeing stars with every stroke of his cock.

After a while, you manage to move on your own. Your body adjusts to him and it starts feeling substantially better, especially since you've been given control. You aren't as demanding as he is, lifting your hips and sinking down onto his cock at a reasonable pace. You don't force yourself on him hard enough to hit that spot but you would rather build slowly to an orgasm.

Again, that doesn't matter to him. He sees the way you're stalling, which is why he goes, "if you don't come in the next minute, I'm pressing you into this mattress and pounding the fuck out of you until you're begging me to stop."

The Mandalorian sets you up for failure and you can't say you didn't see that one coming. He counts down once again starting at sixty, but he doesn't linger on the numbers this time around. He spits them out in rapid succession and no matter what you do, you can't finish before he says one.

A silence washes over the both of you. The calm before the storm. It doesn't last long. He flips you both seamlessly until your whole body is buried as deep in the mattress as his cock is inside of you. You claw at the sheets, biting them as moans ripple through you from how rough he is with you, slamming into you without an ounce of remorse. He knows you love it. You know you love it, even if you refuse to admit it.

You tilt your head to the side because you want to see. You can't see the way his cock is pounding inside of you but you can see the fully-armored Mandalorian that's fucking you. That sight is enough to make you want to burst.

You try your absolute hardest not to come too quickly because you know the moment you have that very first orgasm from being fucked roughly like this, it spirals from there. It'll only get more intense, more frequent, more mind-numbingly good that you'll lose yourself in the feeling. He'll have truly broken you then.

It feels like the Mandalorian has already broken you now.

You can't stop yourself from moaning when his hand finds its way into your hair, tugging it backwards. You tighten around his cock and that's the only signal he needs to connect his other hand to your bare ass. Your body can't keep it together after that. The subtle pain only amplifies the impending pleasure that floods your every sense. He fucks you through the orgasm and your eyes roll back and he can see it happen.

"It feels good being fucked by your Master, doesn't it?" The Mandalorian couples his question with a smack on your ass.

You're too far gone to even realize you said yes. All you can recall is him giving you the tiniest room to breathe before fucking you into the mattress yet again.

Each time you come, he asks you that same question and every time, you say yes. You start saying yes so much that you repeat the word when he's ramming his cock into you.

That's when the praises fill your ears. You hear him call you "good girl" and "my pretty little thief". You hear him tell you how much he loves fucking you and how you're absolutely perfect for him. You hear him claim you over and over again.

"I own you."

"You're mine."

"I'm never letting you go."

You don't know when you started saying yes in response to those words. Did you mean to or were you just so fucked out of your mind that you mumbled whatever felt right? Did he mean any of the words he said or was he just so deep inside of you that they spilled out?

This goes on for…you can't recall. You black out somewhere in between, the immense pleasure too much for your tired body to handle. In the darkness, you remember getting bundled up in a blanket after a while. Did you do that, or did he? You wonder if you're remembering correctly, but you're certain the Mandalorian pat your head until you both fell asleep.

You wake up sore, with so much of him dripping down your inner thighs. How many times did he come inside of you? You couldn't count. You came way too many times to count. How much of the slick between your legs is from you and how much of it is from him?

You turn your head to see that you did indeed fall asleep beside the Mandalorian, who somehow is still fully dressed. He even managed to put on a new glove somewhere in the haze of last night's events. Out of curiosity, you poke him in the shoulder but he does not wake. He's sleeping soundly, as one would after such a lust-filled night.

You crawl your way out of bed and find the strength to stumble into the oasis. You don't even remember when you took off the shirt you were wearing. So much of last night mashed together for you. You can only really remember bits and pieces.

Wait, why did you and the Mandalorian fuck so much? Why…didn't you ever say stop? You just kept wanting more and he delivered.

Why did he…

You splash your face with the cold water, trying to comprehend the whole situation. Doesn't he hate you? Don't you hate him? Was that hate sex? That's the only explanation that makes any sense. You both were pent up in more ways than one and vented out all that frustration in a rather rough fashion.

As much as you hate him, the sex was…well, you'll be wearing this soreness for a while. That says enough about that and you won't give yourself the time to think deeper than that. You might open up a series of thoughts that are more dangerous than the Mandalorian himself and your racing heartbeat isn't something you want to deal with right now.

You do, however, give yourself time to scheme a little. The Mandalorian is fast asleep and it doesn't look like he's going to wake any time soon. Even with his surprisingly impressive stamina, he's probably as wiped out as you are.

Thank the stars you woke up before him. He'll surely live to regret trusting you to stay put.

With a smile on your face, you get up quietly out of the water, finding a towel to dry off with. You sift through more of his stuff, pulling out some clothes that fit you decently. You swipe some credits, rations and other miscellaneous supplies into a spare satchel he had laying around.

Then, you steal the key to his N-1 starfighter off his body and he doesn't sway an inch in reaction, filling you with such joy.

Lesson learned: never sleep with a thief.

The next time you see the Mandalorian, you're certain he's going to do a lot more than just fuck you and you couldn't be more excited about it…

A/N: So, this was supposed to be a oneshot but ngl, after I finished writing it, I was like wow, there is the potential for a very chaotic series here. So, I wrote more since so many people wanted more ~ ♡

If you enjoyed this and want to read more of my work, be sure to check out my oneshots, I’ll Take Care of You, Let Me Help You & A Simple White Lie and/or my series, What Color Am I!

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian smut

[ennieasys]

We are re-watching all the star wars movies bc we forgot almost all of it and here are our reactions to Episode II The Clone Wars. Everything Kat says is in bold (and trust me she says a lot) and CW for language, inappropriate/sexual jokes and references and a whole lot of gayness. Enjoy!

Little bitch (Anakin) jumps out of flying cars often?

Yes yes use your mindfuckery

Istg is little bitch a perv?

Am I the only one who thinks that dream scene was weirdly erotic?

Boba is but a babe

Run dilf run (jango fett)

Oh my fuck Natalie Portman's a cutie

Asshole (Obi-wan) you don't go in the same hole as another man it's just not polite

*Anakin leaves* Oh no, Padme's all alone, who will take care of her?

Oh it's the man I thought was an object in the first movie (viceroy) - Tate

She does not have the right to be that sexy

Oh shit little bitch did a fuckin massacre

I can be a better boyfriend than him~

Little bitch don't be a villain I didn't and I had worse, wait is that unempathetic

*Idk Padme does something hot apparently* Nice one gorgeous

Did jar jar just say the f slur?

The Jedi are not very good at their goddamn job

Oh so that's how the sith got the clones! - Tate

Oh shit she looks fuckin hot 🥵 (Padme in the white suit)

Ew the walls are gremlins

Poor c3 he doesn't deserve this madness - Tate

Kill him so I can get his gf

*Ani gets captured* THIS IS WHY U NEED A LIGHTSABER

*Padme says I love you to Ani* NOOOOOOO

Ugh imagine if Padme had a high quality gf this movie would be so much better. I actually thought that the queen and the handmaiden were in love in the first movie. - Nic

*They get chained* BDSM? This was unexpected

*Padme is picking her handcuffs* SEE SHE'S ACTUALLY BEING USEFUL WHILE UR SITTING THERE LOOKING UGLY!!!

*Anakin rides the creature* I wish I was Anakin and Padme was the beast

*Droids come* oh fuck murder cubes they're literally circles

Hot man is on fire (Samuel L. Jackson) you like difs? Yes.

Oh fuck is daddy fett gonna die? sighs I wish she'd call me daddy Oh shit he did die.

R2 is the best character. -Nic how dare you disrespect my queen like that

Oh shit it's sexy blue lady (Aayla Secura apparently?) u cheating on Padme? She has a boyfriend I can look!

The clones are still ass at shooting though.

*Baby fett with with Jango’s helmet* now that's childhood trauma!

Ick, am I the only one who hates the the young Padawan thing? It's like demeaning.

Do the Jedi know they're practicing slavery? Cause that's a no-no in my book

Bitch, they destroy the death star in like the first movie. That isn't that ultimate.

*Obi-wan says Don't let your feelings get the best of you!* Wow u really are an asshole

JEDI HAVE ELECTRIC FINGERS??? I have electric fingers Kat! - primary caretaker

Why is everything Ani does weirdly erotic?

You had that lightsaber for 2 seconds. How did you break it already???

Oh shit green grandaddy (yoda) is here

I guarantee someone has made a compilation of Ani erotically moaning

The name tyranus sucks.

Oh shit THAT'S A LOT OF SLAVERY

*Anakin and Padme get married* wow that was fast Kat cries in background u knew this was gonna happen at some point cries louder

#lgbtq+ #queer #did #did osdd #osdd system #osdid #did system #osddid #polyamory #wlw #wlw ns/fw #wlw nsft #sapphic #lesbianism #sapphic yearning #lesbians #sapphism #mlm #mlm yearning #mlm thoughts #gay thoughts #gay mlm #gay yearning #star wars #anakin skywalker #attack of the clones #hayden christensen #padme amidala #star wars padme #padme skywalker

[frostedbasilisk]

may i have access to more of them being sarcastic and funny together plz n thx  Image ID below cut :) 

[ID: Boba Fett and Din Djarin are looking at each other. Din is behind Boba and to the left. Boba has his hand on his hip and his other hand is holding up his gun with the butt of it resting on his hip. Smoke from the gun drifts in the bright pink geometric background. Din is holding the unlit darksaber in one hand and his spear in the other. His helmet is tilted to the side jokingly with sparkles around it. Din asks, “Aiming for the other one again Fett?” which Boba responds, “Fuck off. We all don’t have a darksaber mand’alor” sarcastically. /END ID]

#my art #bobin #bobadin #din djarin #boba fett #the mandalorian #Just let boba say fuck already. He deserves it #anyways //hands yall this to hide my silly doodle from earlier LMFAO #i draw serious stuff anyone who's followed me because of that i swear #i went crazy with the pinks apparently its the Vibe rn sorry not sorry #do u love my shitty scribble for dins mudhorn i love it #also the gun that is apparently his? good choice @ picking a random gun to draw adri - youre onto something sometimes. #is that ID too long my art history degree wants me to write way more - ive written entire papers just describing what I see in a sculpture #so its hard to condense when i wanna talk about more but like ?? i think thats good??

[phoenixyfriend]

When Obi-Wan gets to AotC, there's also about two dozen Anakin clones on-site. They're all girls because... IDK Anakin is trans. They have a hive mind and are developmentally a few years younger than Anakin himself.

It's incredibly unsettling to Obi-Wan.

It's almost definitely a "fuck with Anakin's already fragile mental health" ploy by Palpatine, along with a "what if Jedi Black Widows, for me, a Sith Lord. Wouldn't that be neat? That would be neat."

Anakin is torn between "this freaks me out" and "GANG OF BABY SISTERS LET'S GOOOOOOO."

(I just finished reading Like Real People Do by glimmerglanger, so this is definitely inspired by that and the obligatory 'lay back in bed and daydream variations on plot points of that fic you just really enjoyed,' and also a little by Same Heart, Same Blood by loosingletters.)

They're physically like 14-16 on average, and Anakin's vibrating out of his skin with a million conflicting emotions, but when he tells Padme she's just like "oh, you have a handmaiden gang!"

I told this to @willowcrowned and she suggested:

Once Anakin decides to repress the part of him that’s weirded out and just regard them as baby sisters he gets. A little strange about it The first time one of them dies he may or may not slaughter every person he can [in response to Padme's comment] Anakin starts worrying that he needs to get them cool matching outfits

I also chatted about it with @firebirdeternal and they said:

Gang of Unsettling Smol Siblings is exactly the Karma that Anakin deserves

Do you think the Clones have a kind of Collective Name that they use at first that eventually just kind of morphs into a new last name? Skysisters or something? Like Palpatine was trying to be clever and name them like the Nightsisters.

I initially went with "functionally one person" hive-mind but I'm torn.

I think maybe they're BASICALLY one person on Kamino but drift into Separate Consciousness once they're far enough apart physically that their minds don't blend from proximity anymore.

Then they start Dating (like half of them are dating Fett clones because they grew up with these dudes, it's like childhood friends romance), and Anakin loses his mind about Protecting Them and They're Too Young.

Padme: You're nineteen and we just got married, they can date. Anakin: THEY'RE EIGHT. Padme: And the Fett clones are ten and dying for us in the field. Get them rights before you panic about their love lives.

Firebird:

it could be worse, one of them could imprint on Obi-Wan. "Anakin I promise I won't yell at you for the next five stupid things you do if you can figure out a way to stop this baby from having a crush on me" (I like the idea of Obi-wan bargaining not with "I won't be mad at you ever" because they Both Know That's Not True, and instead haggling with specific allowances. Like he's handing out Stupidity Coupons)

Please imagine Mace and Obi-Wan's personal responses to the idea of suddenly having to deal with not one, not two, but OVER TWENTY SKYWALKERS.

Plo is delighted to take one off their hands.

So is Yoda.

Willow:

Mace is like. okay suicide isn’t the Jedi way but on the other hand. i physically cannot deal with this Yoda: a skywalker, you say? one who is tall enough to reach the top shelf, you say? such a skywalker, bring me

Anakin would be given at least one because fuck you, suffer with us, but he's still a padawan so Ugh, fine, no.

I want to say one stays on Coruscant to hang out with the Guard, and ends up half-adopted by Padme. She keeps dressing up the Aniclone left with her in handmaiden outfits and sending selfies to Anakin.

"Hanging out with the little SiL!"

Anakin has so many issues about WHEN his genetic material was acquired.

And there's some confusion from the Fett clones about how much of a hive mind is normal for Jedi. They are confused that the answer is basically none, and "this is WHY nobody clones a Jedi"

ONE OF THEM STEALS BOBA FROM THE ARENA ON GEONOSIS.

Firebird:

"I have followed in our progenitor's footsteps and acquired a sibling." holds up a struggling Boba "He bites."

Willow:

Ooooo okay so if they have a sort of hive mind then they probably don’t have names other than their designations on Kamino right BUT When they SEPARATE The one that picks Boba up on Geonosis gets a name specifically for that. Okay what if the one Padmé picks up gets some variant on ‘pretty’ because she’s always being dressed up BELLE Maybe Yoda’s Ani has a name that means thief? Because obviously Yoda is using Anakin to steal sweets

So, to make the timeline work...

I don't think anyone would give Anakin one of his sisters until after he's knighted at least.

So obviously when they're doing initial placements none of the sisters go to him or Obi-Wan.

Once he's knighted, of course they're already all placed with someone, and Anakin instead gets Ahsoka. He loves Ahsoka. She is also a little sister. He said so.

At some point afterwards, one of the sisters is left without a place because the Master that was in charge of her died in the field battle.

That sister then gets placed with Obi-Wan, because he's already mostly-successfully raised one Skywalker, so he can do it again.

Anakin gets to hang out with her basically all the time.

Ahsoka is very very jealous of this girl stealing Anakin's attention.

Anakin is oblivious to the rivalry.

He asks Barriss to look after them while he's discussing Adult War Things with Luminara and Obi-Wan, and Barriss gets an eye into This Mess, which is quickly colored by Ahsoka growing a puppy crush on the lovely Miss Offee herself.

Firebird:

Ahsoka: Ah yes, my nemesis. Anisister: Ah yes, my new older sister whom I want to impress so bad.

"I will impress her by being Stoic and Competent" "Oh my god she must think she's so much better than me what a bitch"

Anakin is oblivious to most things to be fair Anakin: Laser focused precision fighting machine who can read the tiniest body movements and predict your moves seconds in advance, who also cannot understand even the most basic social nuance. I was originally writing this as to Dunk on Anakin but then I made myself sad, because none of those things are really his fault.

So you know that post about like, Sasuke and Brooding, specifically in the context of "Brooding" as it's used to refer to Nesting Chickens? Grouchy and protective and sitting on a tennis ball trying to hatch it because they're just. "These are my Babies." Anakin Broods. Baby sisters. Must protecc. "I'm actually fine and extremely deadly in combat." "MUST PROTECT."

Bad Guy: [catches Ahsoka in a Trap] Aniclone: Must rescue sister! Aniclone: [fights, is not winning fight, gets ouched] Ahsoka tearing her way out of Trap: I lived bitch. Also: stay the fuck away from her. [murders so hard]

Ahsoka catches the Protective Older Sib feels by the traditional method: "Hey, only I'm allowed to be mean to them."

Willow:

Oh Anakin has no clue what’s going on. He walks in on Ahsoka glaring at the Ani and is like!!! Little sisters!!! Bonding!!! When Ahsoka was about three seconds away from tossing her out of the airlock. Ahsoka mistakenly assumes that Barriss has a crush on the Ani, and gets even MORE jealous.

Obi-Wan is like oh god. I can’t take care of an Anakin going through puberty again. He’s great with periods and other stuff because he read about a billion books. He is TERRIBLE with everything else, as he was the first time.

Barriss is like???? YOU'RE BOTH CHILDREN, PLEASE CALM DOWN, I HAVE ZERO INTEREST IN DATING ANYONE, LET ALONE SOMEONE YOUR AGE.

IDK how old Obi-Wan's Aniclone is, probably physically the same age as Ahsoka?

Per @atagotiak on discord:

Also something something, similarities btw Anakin and Obi-Wan where like. "Am I a parent? That seems uncomfortable, I'm too young to be a dad to a kid this age, I mean I'm cool with being a mentor/caretaker but..."

Obi-Wan can't even sidestep parenthood this time.

"Is Anakin basically your dad?" "Uhhhhhh" [Muffled discussion] "So Obi-Wan is your dad." "Okay!" "WAIT NO I DIDN'T AGREE TO THIS"

Ahsoka: She's stealing my brother, that BITCH. Obi-Wan's Aniclone: new sister new sister new sister gotta make a good impression

Firebird:

I feel like the Sister Squad would make very effective interstellar espionage agents Even like, kind of by accident. They just get encouraged to branch out in their interests and figure out what they want to do with their lives and end up all over the dang place, and since they're all pretty dang competent they tend to gravitate towards Important Positions wherever they end up. Except for one sister who just retires to raise Space Sheep.

I like that in this AU Palpatine is just like "I will create an army of Loyal Murderers who will obey my every whim and also be a big psychological lever on my Other Pet Murderer," and then they all just Baby Duckling imprint on the first Jedi to be nice to them instead and he has to just be like "Wait no not like that."

AND one of them Steals Boba

I want Obi-Wan's Aniclone to start dating Fives. All the sisters judge her for it, because he's a Goof. A very competent, ARC Trooper goof! But a goof.

Not as goofy as Anakin, though.

Firebird:

Who expects a clone of Anakin Skywalker to not make questionable lifelong romantic choices impulsively?

#Anakin Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Obi Wan Kenobi #Disaster Lineage #Sheev Palpatine #Skeevy Sheev #cloning #Yoda #Mace Windu #Skysisters AU #trans anakin skywalker #Phoenix Posts #hive mind #Padme Amidala #Anidala

[galacticgraffiti]

ok but i’m just. full of thoughts abt boba with someone soft & warm. how well he’d treat them, and if he ever accidentally scared them or made them flinch, how he’d just drop everything to comfort them..soft boba is just balm for my aching soul honestly i can’t get enough of him

Tonight is just fucking full of softness, huh? I'm not complaining. This is my happy place. And this prompt?? Hmhmhmhmmmmmm YES! This turned out more bittersweet than I wanted but oh well, who am I to deny my muse, right?

Warnings: vague allusions to trauma/abuse in the past, super soft boba because we deserve that

.•°°•. ✿ .•°°•.✿ .•°°•.✿ .•°°•.

"Of course. Thank you for your business, the waiting room is right over there-" Boba raises his hand to point over to the door and show your visitor where the waiting area is located, and you can't help it- you flinch.

Boba has never hit you, he has never hurt you - whether accidentally or on purpose. And you know he would never, you know it deep in your heart and soul, but muscle memory is a strong thing. Stronger, apparently, than the knowledge he did not mean anything by it.

Your wince makes Boba pause mid-sentence, his hand still hanging in the air.

"Excuse us," he says and your guest nods, hurrying out of the throne room. Once the doors close behind him and you are alone, Boba gently, very slowly and carefully pulls in his arms and lifts up his helmet. His eyes are wide and full of concern, lips pursed as he regards you.

"Are you alright, cyar'ika?"

You nod quietly, your lip trembling.

"I'm sorry, Boba, I didn't mean to- I know you didn't-"

"Do not apologise to me, little one," he says, the sound of his voice already comforting you while your body is still tense and on edge. "It is I who should apologise to you. I should have been more careful, I know what you went through. I was not thinking, and for that, I am sorry."

"It's fine, really," you mumble, but then the tears just spill over, quietly running down your cheeks while Boba stares at you helplessly.

"Can I touch you?" he finally asks, so tender and insecure that your heart aches. You press your lips together and place your hand on his, gently guiding him to your face. A rough thumb strokes your cheek, wiping away the tears that just keep on falling.

He stays perfectly still otherwise, the comforting warmth of his hand cradling your face is enough for now- you don't think you could bear more.

"I'm going to call in Fennec," he finally says softly. "Tell her to cancel my appointments for today."

You gasp for air, chest still shaking with sobs you can not seem to keep inside you.

"No, please, you don't need to-"

"I do." Boba's expression is stern. "You are my priority, princess. Always."

You melt, your body still shaking with stress and adrenaline, but you slowly let yourself relax into his strong body.

"Can I hold you?" The question is so soft that you almost miss the words.

"Yes," you mumble. "Please."

Thick arms wrap around you, pulling you into Boba's chest until you bury his face in his armour, surrounded by him and the calm comfort he exudes.

"I'm gonna move my hand to my vambrace to call Fennec, is that okay?"

"Hmhm," you agree, closing your eyes to focus on steadying your breathing until you don't feel so faint anymore. You vaguely register Boba speaking a few sentences, then Fennec's short confirmation. When you open your eyes again, Boba is looking down at you, tender affection written on his scarred face.

"Will you let me carry you up? Draw you a bath, pull you into my lap and just hold you for a while? Let me take care of you, little one."

Tears swim in your eyes again, but this time it's for a different reason.

"I love you," you whisper and when Boba wraps you in his arms and whispers the words back to you, the world is almost alright again.

.•°°•. ✿ .•°°•.✿ .•°°•.✿ .•°°•.

Oof. I might be crying. Come get an achey heart with me @ethenae @adancedivasmom @kakashibabe02 @kik51199 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @asaucecoveredsomething @book-of-baba-fett @mando-amando @gotomarvelgal @muffledgorillaviolence @goddessofsprings @elegantduckturtle @samanthacookieone @imalovernotahater @thefact0rygirl @corrabell @nomercyforthewarrior @msfett @ashotofspotchka @general-h-syndulla @hayley-the-comet @ladykatakuri @deewithani @meabravo @clone-simp-time @ahsoka1 @sithdjarins @spacehooters @perpetual-fangirl900 @clonecyare @pinkiemme @echoskama @maygalodon @ittybittykylo @stardust-galaxies

#boba fett #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #fluff #galas tender thots #gala answers #nonnie request

[cherry-stained-blood]

soft tanizaki headcanons

Synopsis: Just some wholesome and adorable headcanons with Junichiro Tanizaki

Request from Discord: CAN YOU DO WHOLESOME TANIZAKI HEADCANONS ☺️☺️

Pairing: Junichiro Tanizaki x GN!reader (they/them)

A/N: Back at it with the BSD content. My friend from Discord messaged me to write Tanizaki fluff so here we are. Tanizaki deserves more content, so I hope this will be enough to satisfy the fans of funny illusion man <3

TW: Light swearing, slightly dirty joke

▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆

Holy fuck, you’re one lucky bitch

So to start things off, Tanizaki is such a sweetheart

Even though he’s very shy, he will always think about his loved ones and puts them first. You’re one of his main priorities right next to Naomi

Maybe even a little higher but that’s not the point

You both constantly look out for each other, no matter your position in work at the Armed Detective Agency

It’s honestly so cute seeing Tanizaki get all happy and stuff when he realizes you’re back from a dangerous mission

Definitely gets clingy about it but would rather die than own up to it

It’s honestly so adorable to see him all flustered about it too

“Awwww baaabbbyy~ did you miss me THAT much? I’m so flattered,” you cooed into his flushed-red ear, making Tanizaki groan out of embarrassment whilst you giggled at hum. “Y/N, you know I love you, but why must you do this to me?”

Teasing and flirting with him is NEEDED

Honestly, it’s so easy to embarrass him it’s already endearing enough on its own. Just seeing such a timid boy get all red and shy just from a few smooth words you say is enough serotonin for you

You flirt with him so much he decided to get back at you one day

Sometimes he’ll come up with the most vile and dirty joke that will leave your face looking like a tomato

You can’t tell me this guy is at least not somewhat dirty-minded, come on

There was this one incident where you both were messing around, joking and having fun, until you started your little antics again

obviously, illusion boy was not having it, but one of your little pickup-lines went a little too far

So without hesitation, he fired back with a smooth comment ten times more dirty and clever

After seeing your blush face, he just let out one of his cute little laughs, which made you huff

But obviously, the smile on your face wasn’t completely hidden

Boba dates, they’re very common

Tanizaki insists that he pays for everything, much to your disbelief. You understand that he wants you to have a good time, but you don’t want to drain his wallet of everything

So you sometimes steal his wallet and hide it so he doesn’t have to worry about running out of money. You then assure that you can pay for everything just fine

While he is a little upset about it, he appreciates that you’re taking his enjoyment into consideration

Also, did I forget to mention that Naomi was absolutely PROTECTIVE of Tanizaki when she found out about your relationship

She was supportive, but she kept her eyes on you for a bit

“I trust that you’re taking good care of him.”

“Oh I definitely am, especially in the bedroom—“

“WHAT?!” “Y/N WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?!”

Tanizaki was absolutely done after that, cue the burning red face

But overall, he loves and appreciates you so much, even if he’s a little timid and shy at times

▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆

#bungou stray dogs #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #bsd #bsd fanfic #headcanons #bsd smut #tanizaki junichirou #tanizaki x reader #soft headcanons #bsd tanizaki #bungou stray dogs tanizaki #naomi tanizaki #tanizaki x you #smut #fluff headcanons

[innytoes]

very happy to (hopefully) enable you to write more chaotic gay guys so how about "Willex + I needed a fake boyfriend for a sec but I didn't know you're actually kinda famous and now reporters are asking us uncomfortable questions"? <3

They were out 'incognito' as Reggie called it, which really boiled down to wearing things they usually didn't, plus sunglasses, and ducking out the side door of the hotel because Reggie made friends with the wait staff wherever they went and they let them escape through the kitchen.

"This is fool proof," Reggie said, beaming in a yellow smiley face sweater he stole off Julie and a pair of shorts that belonged to Alex. His hair wasn't in its usual perfectly imperfect style, flopping over his forehead and onto the reflective orange sunglasses. Alex fidgeted in Luke's Flannel Of Sadness, Reggie's black shirt pulled tight over his chest. He'd shoved Luke's grey beanie over his hair, since that was usually something the paparazzi noticed. "And so worth it, I've been dying to get something other than fancy hotel food."

"I swear to god if you dragged me out here to get a McMuffin I'm murdering you in this alley," Alex said, peering out to see if the coast was clear because casually, very casually walking out. Reggie skipped along, beaming.

"No, dude, there's this cute little coffee shop that has great reviews a few blocks away." Reggie showed him his phone. "They make cookies shaped like corgis."

Okay, those were pretty cute. "Fine."

The café was charming, with pastel colours and lots of food shaped like cute things and fun and interesting sounding drinks. Nobody seemed to have followed them, so they took a seat at one of the tables and just... let themselves be themselves for a while. Snarking, joking, not worrying about whatever they said being spread across the entire internet the next day. (Reggie did take some cute pictures of their food to post once they got to their next stop on the tour, because this place deserved the shout out once they were free and clear.)

"Hey babe, sorry I'm late," a voice behind him said, before someone slid in next to him on the bench, pressing close.

"Uuuum," Alex said, voice squeaking embarrassingly high at the arm around his waist. "I think-"

"Please play along and pretend to be my boyfriend for like five seconds, this guy won't leave me alone and he's followed me into two other places already," the voice said quietly into his ear. Reggie bit his lip, looking behind them, clearly assessing how much of a threat this guy was.

"Hey, you made it!" he said brightly, before leaning over. "Alex, if you don't want to be the fake boyfriend, I will, that dude over there looks shady as fuck." Alex turned a little, looking at the guy on the bench.

Oh. He was beautiful. Long hair, tanned skin, and gorgeous brown eyes. "Fuck off, Reg, you already have a boyfriend and a girlfriend, stop being greedy," he said, flushing and leaning over to press a chaste kiss against the guy's cheek.

"Hi, gorgeous," Alex said louder, so the people around them could hear. The pet name felt a bit embarrassing, but well, the guy really was gorgeous. "I missed you." He couldn't take his eyes off the stranger, especially when he smiled a wide, pleased smile. They made lovey-dovey small-talk until Reggie said the guy had left, and the stranger slumped against him.

"Thank you so much," he said. "I'm Willie."

"Alex," he said, trying not to think about how Willie's hand was still around his waist, how Willie was still pressed against him.

“Reggie,” Reggie said, getting up. “You want a drink, Willie? Our treat.” He gave Alex an unsubtle wink, and he flushed. Willie either didn’t seem to notice or was nice enough not to say anything about it, and asked Reggie for a boba. He disappeared towards the counter, and the guy turned to him again.

“Really, thanks. I was getting a little freaked out when he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and I didn’t have my board on me to make a quick escape.”

“You skateboard?” Alex asked, and he tried not to be mesmerized by the wide grin as Willie told him about it. They fell into an easy conversation, even with Reggie trying to talk Alex up like the world’s most earnest but unsubtle wingman. Willie didn’t seem to mind, though, smiling at Alex and flirting with him as if they actually were boyfriends. Willie was funny, and cool, and really interesting, and he seemed equally interested in what Alex (and Reggie) had to say. It was pretty much the best thing that had happened to Alex all year.

Or it was. They’d reluctantly had to go to get to sound check on time (Reggie hurrying back to the counter to buy a box full of cute-shaped cookies), and he and Willie had exchanged numbers. But when they came outside, they were swarmed with reporters, shouting questions at them. Specifically, questions about Alex’ Secret Relationship.

“So much for your fool-proof plan,” he hissed at Reggie, who looked sheepish. He turned to Willie to apologize, and the guy stared at him, wide-eyed, before turning to reporters with what could only be described as a gleeful, slightly manic grin.

“One at a time, please!”  he called, and the reporters seemed a little surprised. Usually when Alex was swarmed with paparazzi, he just kept his head down and powerwalked away.

“How long have you been dating?” one woman asked.

“Forty-six years!” Willie beamed.

“Alex, why did you keep your relationship a secret when you’re such an outspoken advocate for the LGBTQ community?”

“So you guys wouldn’t crash out dates like you’re doing now, asshole,” Willie said, stepping slightly in front of Alex. He grabbed his hand, and Alex squeezed it back, not sure what to make of this, but not sure how to stop him either.

“What’s your name?” Another one asked.

“Throckmorton von Beaverhausen,” Willie said with the utmost confidence. Reggie was trying to hide a grin, like the idea of just lying to reporters tickled him pink. It probably did. Alex would have to give Flynn a heads up she had to sit Reggie down and tell him he was not allowed to mess with reporters. “Now, are you going to ask us how our date was? This place has the best boba I’ve ever had, along with the cutest cookies in the world. Show ‘em, Reg!”

Reggie beamed and opened the box, chattering about how nice the cupcakes were too, giving the lady behind the counter a big thumbs up through the window. She waved back, a little in shock.

“Now, we really have to get where we’re going so we still have time to make out beforehand, if you’ll excuse us!” Willie said, pulling Alex along with him as he broke through the crowd and hailing a cab, hustling both of them inside. Once the cab had left the reporters in the dust, he turned to Alex.

“Okay, so first off, what the hell are you guys famous for?” he asked.

“Um, we’re in a band. Julie and the Phantoms?” Alex said, a little embarrassed, and highly uncomfortable at being squished in the middle seat.

“Tell your friends!” Reggie piped up. “Alex is the drummer, I play bass.”

“Oh, okay. I’ve heard your songs on the radio. They’re a bop.” Willie nodded in approval, and Alex felt his stomach flutter a little. He liked their music!

“You... you said first of all,” he said after a moment, when Willie didn’t continue. He was still holding Alex’ hand. “Is there a second of all?”

“Yeah,” Willie said. “Where the hell are we going? Because I just told the cabbie to drive like we were in an action movie and while I don’t think he minds if he just cruise around town all day, he might need an address.” The cab driver shrugged, and Alex awkwardly gave him the address to the venue they were playing at. They were going to be so late, Luke was going to kill them. Julie was going to kill them. Hell, Flynn was going to kill them too.

Except when they got to the venue, they found Luke and Julie and Flynn sat in the front row of the audience, crowded around a phone. “Well hi there, Throckmorton!” Flynn called.

“You better have saved some of those cookies for us, Reggie,” Luke threatened, beaming when he was given a sloth and a kiss on the cheek. Reggie followed up by giving Julie a unicorn (and a kiss), and Flynn a dinosaur (and a fistbump).

“So, anyone want to explain what the hell just happened?” Julie asked, cheerfully nibbling the horn off her unicorn cookie.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” Alex admitted. But when he looked at Willie, who was still holding his hand, eyes sparkling, he was pretty sure it didn’t matter.

#julie and the phantoms #I wrote a thing #willex #willie throckmorton #alex mercer #fanfic #this is so long #AUs are awesome #Willie becomes a meme overnight #and he and Alex start dating for real #and Flynn is just like: you know what we're hiring Willie as our roadie/bodyguard/anti-PR person #and they all live happily ever after #and then one day on some late night show someone asks how Alex and Willie met and they tell the truth #and nobody believes them because Willie has been chaotically messing with the paparazzi for ten years

[theasexuwhalestuff]

Thoughts while watching The Book of Boba Fett Episode 7: In The Name of Honor

GROGU CHOSE HIS DAD!!!!! I mean, I knew he would, didn't trust Favreau and Filoni to actually let that be the case. But what-fucking-ever, Grogu said bye bitch to the Jedi.

Luke is that salty, huh? He sent an entire baby in an X-wing across the galaxy with R2-D2 of all creatures. Wtf, man. Get a fucking grip.

FINALLY MORE PELI MOTTO AND GROGU CONTENT!!!

Peli refusing to use Grogu's name is just the majority of this fandom.

Lmao love how R2 snarks everyone but Peli just goes STFU baby needs to eat.

Li'l gremlin is so happy eating those slugs!!

We're really gonna call Mos Pelgo fucking Freetown?? Come on.

At last we get Fennec, Din and Boba interacting, but ofc that only lasts three seconds. Would pay to watch an entire series dedicated to this trio goofing off, doing nothing and being besties. So much lost potential 😔

Fennec saying there's money to be made from the spice just made me wanna know abt her and her character and it's such a fucking SHAME that they gave us nothing. Not even crumbs. Yeah ok, she beat Cad Bane and kidnapped Omega. So? I just wanna know more abt her personality and her past and what shaped her you fuckers. She deserves her own fucking show.

Fennec really pulling all the weight around here and having to lend Boba a few brain cells from time to time so he doesn't get himself killed.

Santo. SANTO??? Boba's already pet-naming his almost murderer awww.

Fennec being an absolute badass and singlehandedly killing all the Aqualish.

That comment abt manners killed me. Her tone, omg. Badass mama.

Boba and Din actually talking. I was abt to throw hands cuz I thought Boba would be the last person to mock Din's creed. But then Din said yes, he does believe in that bantha fodder. And Boba just said good??? You alright mans.

Flying Mando Kings.

They just fight so well together omg.

Boba trying to shield Din and making sure he's ok 😭😭😭

Boba being soft af to "Santo" and offering him the same bacta tank he was ripped out from and almost slaughtered.

Grogu come save your dad. He's in trouble again.

Oh wait, what. Giant killer droids chasing Din. Omg is this man okay?? I hope it's not triggering him or something.

Peli fucking Motto in a droid-rickshaw YAASSS. They're spoiling us with all the Peli Motto content.

Mando seeing his baby and doing a triple take and Grogu just FLYING into daddy's arms 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Mando flinging himself to catch his baby.

Peli just casually spitting out a tooth.

Mando holding his baby!!! Just like before!!! Mando and Grogu again!!!!

Boba Fett riding the fucking baby rancor.

Din covering his face, preparing for death 😭😭😭

Grogu said no one hurts my dad, fucker.

Dadalorian is BACK!!!

Peli flirting w the majordomo; I am deceased.

Me when Cad Bane showed up again: This bitch won't lay off, huh?

They're shooting Boba's baby wtf.

Din's the only person in the room w a brain cell ofc they're scaring it. Its a baby. Just like the baby Din's holding.

He gave the control knob back to bebe!!

Grogu off to save Papa again. What would this man do w/o this baby?

Grogu wtff?? Go curl up w Papa not the rancor.

Boba actually lent his bacta tank.

Dad and baby shenanigans are back!!!!

They're resurrecting Cobb Vanth???? I mean I didn't get why he had to die, but why bring him back either? Does this mean he's gonna get his own spin-off show like Boba did? 🤔

What-fucking-ever. Who cares. Din's back with his baby, that's the most important thing in this galaxy.

#tbobf #the book of boba fett #din djarin #grogu #peli motto #boba fett #fennec shand #black krrsantan #cad bane #cobb vanth #majordomo #in the name of honor

[tonystarksfavoritedaughter]

Periods

Simu Liu x Reader

Warnings: some swearing, talks of period, fluff

A/N: I’m currently dying on my period so I wrote a little something something in like 40 minutes lol here ya go :)

The sharp pain in your lower stomach is what woke you up. Please no. You had been getting cramps and bloating lately, but you blamed it on the amount of garlic you had eaten recently. You got up to use the bathroom. When you were done, you looked down at the toilet paper. Red. Cursing to yourself, you put on a pad and went to the living room. You were up now, so no since going back to bed.

Hours passed as you waited for Simu to arrive. Today was his off day, so he chose to spend it with you. You two hadn’t been dating long, as this was your first time on your period with him. Everything hurt, but you hadn’t seen him in a week, so you were not letting this get to you.

You got up for some water when you heard a knock on your door. You opened it to reveal Simu standing there looking so handsome. Sweatpants and a t-shirt. Your favorite look on him.

“Hello beautiful,” he smiled as he picked you up in his arms. You laughed as he placed tiny kisses on your cheeks and nose and finally your lips. You loved kissing him; it felt like the very first time you two kissed every time.

He pulled back to breathe as you placed a final kiss on his chin. “Hello to you too.”

He moved both of you to your couch. “I just missed you is all.”

“I missed you more,” you said.

He got comfy and stretched his arms out. “So,” he started, “what’s the plan for today.”

You did not feel like going out. “Can we just stay here?” You asked.

“Yeah sure. Do you want some lunch?”

“I’m really craving that pizza we had-“ you stopped talking as you winced at a particularly sharp cramp.

Simu immediately had worry written on his face. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“It’s nothing,” you waved him off. “Just some food poisoning.” You went to the kitchen to take medicine to ease the pain.

Simu followed you. “Yeah, I don’t think you take painkillers for food poisoning.” He turned you around to face him as he placed his hands on your waist. “What’s wrong baby?”

Your heart melted at his words, his concerns. “I’m on my period.”

“Aw well why didn’t you say that?”

“Because I didn’t want to gross you out,” you said shyly.

“Babe,” he titled your chin up towards him. “That is the total opposite.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he kissed your nose, “I don’t think it’s gross at all. It’s a part of your life and you can’t control that.”

You smiled at him, but it quickly faded as he let go of you and grabbed his keys. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back. You,” he led you back to the couch. “Sit and relax, I’m gonna head to the store.”

He gave you a kiss on the head and left. What was he going to get? You tried to pass the time by catching up on some naps you were missing.

About an hour after he left, Simu returned with multiple grocery bags and a pizza box in his hands.

You were woken up by his attempt to fit through the door. “Do you need help with that?” You laughed.

“No, no. You stay there.”

“Simu, I can do things you know.”

He sat the bags down and came over to you. “I know, but I just want you to be comfy. I got you pads and tampons, because I don’t know what you use, hence the different sizes,” you snickered, “and some chocolate, movies, and pizza.”

Your heart swelled at him. “Simu, you didn’t have to do all this. I don’t deserve you.”

“And that’s a fucking lie.” He placed his hands on your waist again. “Y/N, we haven’t been together long, but I already know that you deserve everything.”

“I adore you,” you told him this as he leaned in. You reached up to meet his lips. They were soft against yours and they tasted like his chapstick. “I also got boba,” he murmured against your lips.

You pulled away, excited. “Are you serious?”

—-

Now you were laying on your bed, Simu rubbing small circles against your stomach as you watched the movie he bought on your laptop. He would occasionally kiss your shoulder and neck, asking how you were doing. It was everything.

#simu liu x reader #simu liu #shang chi #shang chi x reader #simu liu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #shang chi fanfiction

[dameronology]

wait on {din djarin x reader}

summary: boba fett is a good therapist, and din djarin is spectacular at being nosey. the result? a much needed conversation. perhaps there’s a silver lining. {kinda based on this song}

warnings: angst, language, swearing, s2 spoilers

this one hurts a lil bit but i promise the ending is happy. enjoy!!

-jazz

The air between you was thick, not unlike the beskar that the Mandalorian was wearing. 

It was funny, really, because you’d never minded the armour all that much before. Your ability to see straight through it and see Din Djarin for what he really was had been what made him fall in love with you, and you with him. Now, it felt like a barrier between you. Inches of thick metal and fabric, shielding him from the world around him. From you. The one person he usually held closest to his heart; the one person he’d let see his face for the first time in years. The man was hardly a conversationalist at the best of times but he’d opened up to you. Shared his world with you and intertwined it with yours. Built something with you that you'd both protect with your lives. 

Now, he was straying away. Forever attached by an invisible string, but with galaxies and galaxies between you. Even though he was mere inches from you, sat two seats over, there was a chilly air; if your relationship was a warm, welcoming house, the atmosphere he’d plunged you both into was the cold winter’s night on the other side of the glass. You wanted to go back, to drag him inside and slam and bolt the door behind you. Instead, you were forced to watch through the windows, knowing what was there but never quite truly getting close enough to let it envelope you. 

You couldn’t hold it against him. The last few weeks had been rough on you both, and it only come to a head today. Grogu had been taken by the Imps and the Crest had been blown up before your very eyes. It was one of those times that truly and wholly showed the difference between you and Din: you sought him out and he pulled away. You’d learnt a long time ago not to follow him. You wanted to. Fuck, you wanted to, but you’d learnt the hard way that it was a bad idea. 

Despite the icy silence and ache for your kidnapped toad son, you were still grateful for the fact Boba Fett had offered his ship as transport and shelter. You weren’t entirely sure what his deal was, but Din seemed to trust him, and so by extension, you did too. Things were a little cramped in the hull of the ship, but there was a spare sleeping quarters for you and the Mandalorian to squish into, assuming he’d let you. You didn’t want to ask him, because you were scared of the answer. 

Instead, you found yourself sat out on the dusty plains of...wherever the hell you were. Boba had parked the ship up overnight so that you could rest; it seemed to be some kind of desert planet. Not too different to Nevarro or Tatooine, but perhaps a little colder. The sky had long faded to black, casting a darkness over the sandy plains ahead of you. The chilly air was a welcome contrast against the stuffiness of the bedroom - it wasn’t even hot in there, just filled with some kind of inexplicable tension. And not the sexy kind; the regular, all-consuming type. You could feel it slowly etching into your frontal lobe, sinking in its claws and giving you a stress head-ache. Letting out a few deep breaths, you let the gusts of cold wind blow over your bare arms. 

‘A little cold out here, isn’t it?’

The voice was gravelly and unfamiliar, but one that you knew belonged to Boba Fett. 

‘Yeah, maybe.’ You didn’t turn around to look, instead letting your eyes stay focused on the distance. There was nothing ahead. Just darkness and sand. ‘Fresh air is nice, though.’

‘Or maybe the air inside is bad.’ He countered. Boba took a seat on the rock beside you, jokingly whacking his knee against yours. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘Just...what happened today, I suppose.’ You replied. ‘We lost the kid, and our ship.’

‘You’re handling it better than your Mandalorian.’ He replied. 

‘I don’t think he’s my Mandalorian.’ You snorted. ‘He’s just...he doesn’t normally deal with so much at once. I think he just needs time to process it all, you know?’

‘Perhaps.’ Boba said. ‘And do you always make excuses for him?’

‘I beg your sweet pardon?’ You turned to look at him. 

‘Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I’ve always been an observant man.’ He began. ‘I saw how you immediately went to him, to check on him, and how you fought beside him,  yet he’s barely even looked at you.’

‘Ouch.’ You muttered. ‘You might be observant you but certainly do not tread lightly.’

‘My apologies.’ He curtly nodded. 

‘It’s not always been like this.’ Your words felt forced. You were making excuses. ‘And it won’t always be.’

‘You know him better than anyone, or so I assume.’ Boba reminded you. ‘But don’t be afraid to remind him what he has, despite what he’s lost.’

He was right. Din could be distant, and he could be fucking ignorant without even trying, but you hadn’t strayed from his side once. Not for a second. It could be frustrating to deal, with but you loved him with your whole being, in a soul-consuming sorta way, and you knew he was capable of coming around. Your mother had always preached songs of love being patient and kind but as you saw it, it was frustrating, and at times the most inconvenient thing in the world. You must have had the patience of a saint to deal with him. He was just lucky he made it worth it (and that underneath all the armour, he wasn’t too bad to look at. It certainly helped his case). 

You let out a sad laugh. ‘I couldn’t. Di - Mando already struggles to express his feelings and I’d only make it worst if I said he wasn’t doing it well enough.’

‘You know your worth.’ Boba said. ‘Only you can decide if he appreciates it enough.’

‘He does.’ You quickly replied. ‘I know he does.’ 

He gave you a doubtful look, one that said I think you’re bullshitting, but I won’t disagree. He was simply sharing his observations, even if they were a little much. But the man hadn’t had any proper social interaction for a long time, so you could hardly blame him - and he had a sort of wise air to him, like he’d been round the block a couple times. He certainly seemed like the sort of person you should listen to.

‘I’ll leave you with this: the life of a Mandalorian is complicated.’ He dusted off his knees, before standing up. ‘You should make sure it’s worth it before you fully commit.’

‘I-’ you tried to speak, but you were cut off by the sound of a twig snapping under someone’s boot. Why the fuck were there twigs in the desert? More to the point, why was that your immediate thought? 

You both sharply turned around, coming face-to-face with a Mandalorian. Not a Mandalorian, but the Mandalorian. The one you’d just been talking about. The one whose heart would have been broken into a million tiny pieces if he’d even a word of what you just said. And, from the way his helmet tilted ever so slightly to the left, you figured he’d heard more than enough. Fuck. 

'Don’t let me stop you.’ His modulated voice wavered ever so slightly. ‘I’ll see you inside.’

He turned on his heel, heavy steps taking him back towards the Slave I. To anyone else, his body language hadn’t changed, but you could read him like a book. A complicated book, and one that was missing more than half its pages and was in a dozen different fucking languages, but one you’d read a thousand times. Understanding Din Djarin was hard, and you’d only just begun -  barely touched the surface in fact - but it was more than anyone else could say. 

‘Wait!’ You leapt up, almost comically falling over as you rushed after him. 

Sensing that his presence was probably not welcome, Boba returned to his seat on the rock, silently hoping that Fennec Shand was either a) asleep, or b) had enough common sense to stay the fuck out of the way of whatever was about to go down. 

‘I swear to maker if you shut that door -’ you were cut off by...the door shutting in your face. Djarin: 1. You: 0.

You let out a small groan, slamming your fist against it. 

‘Okay, maybe I deserved that.’ You quietly muttered. ‘But will you please listen to me?’

Silence. 

‘Fine.’ You splayed your fingers out against the metal. ‘Ice me out, Din Djarin. I’m more than used to it by now.’

There was a gruff hmm from the other side of the door. Had he really just taken offence to that?

‘It’s funny, really.’ You continued. ‘Because the part of that conversation you didn’t hear was me defending you. Like I always fucking do, because I know that despite everything, you’re a human being and you love me.’

There was a small thud, as though Din had placed his hand in a similar position to yours.

‘But Boba has a point.’ Your voice fell to a whisper. ‘I keep giving and I get nothing back. Instead of letting me in, you just shut me out and I know you’re upset at what he said but for the love of everything holy in this shitty world, do not prove him right.’

It was a risky ultimatum, and not one you’d seen coming. Your chest had tightened as soon as the words left your mouth, because you knew that if Din stayed silent, that was it. You’d have to let him go; to accept that you would never get back what you putting in. Before, you were able to convince yourself that you were okay with that but maybe, just maybe you weren’t. Waiting around for something that had no guarantee of happening was like beating a dead horse that had no guarantee of coming back to life. The only thing that was promised was emotional exhaustion and then eventual death. You would have liked to have found something between those two waypoints - whether Din Djarin could be the one to give it to you? You didn’t know. 

After a moment of silence, the door finally opened, and you came face to face with him. Like actually face to face with him; no helmet, no armour. Just a loose tunic and tired brown eyes, matched with lazily-shaven facial hair and knitted brows. That was Din. Your Din. 

‘Can I just...can I just talk for a moment?’ He asked. ‘I have something to say and I want to get it right.’

‘Of course.’ You nodded. 

‘I’m not hurt by what you said.’ He stated. ‘I know I don’t show you enough love and it hurts that I don’t know how, but I am trying. I promise you that much.’

You gave him a tearful smile. ‘Yeah, I know.’

‘I just wish that you could say it to me and not to him.’ He murmured. ‘I don’t want you to hold back on anything, ever. You can always come to me. Even if it’s about me.’

‘I get that.’ Your eyes fell to the floor. ‘It’s just that I know you’re trying your best and I’m scared you’ll think that your best isn’t enough.’ 

‘It’s not.’ Din’s words took you by surprise. ‘It’s not enough, but one day, I hope it will be.’

‘I don’t know what to say, because if I deny it-’

‘- you don’t have to say anything.’ He cut you off. ‘I want to give you the world. And I will, if you’ll be patient with me.’

You took every word as gospel as he said it. The Mandalorian was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. And to his credit, every promise he’d made to you before, he’d delivered on. You didn’t doubt for a second that this one would be the same. It wasn’t even naivety or wishful thinking. 

‘I mean, I’ve come this far.’ You tried to crack a joke. You finally looked up from the floor, his brown eyes meeting yours. 

‘I love you.’ He took your hands in his, words firm. ‘That’s all I can give you right now. I’m sorry.’

‘Din.’ The words barely come out as a whisper. ‘Never apologise. Please never apologise. I just...it’s nice to hear it, you know? A little more often than every time you almost die.’

‘Are the words enough on their own?’

‘Yes.’ You squeezed his hands. ‘Because I know you mean them.’

Din wrapped his arms you, pulling you tightly against his chest. It was warm and soft, miles away from the cold armour that so often greeted you. He held you tightly and with a new kind of might you were previously yet to experience, clinging onto you as though it were the last time. It wasn’t - it was far from the last time. Rather, it was the first time. The first time that he’d spoken of a future with you, or fully promised himself to you. You knew you would get there one day. You’d just needed him to say it himself before you could believe it. 

Din Djarin was giving you tiny little pieces on himself each day, and one day, you would have all of him. 

tags: @meshlababy @bo-kryze @poestardust @aqueencomplexx @princessxkenobi @cosmic-rich @captn-andor @buttercup--bee​ @maharani-radha​ @kat-r-in​

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #din djarin angst #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian imagines #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian angst #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars imagines #star wars imagine #star wars angst #mandalorian fan fiction #din djarin fan fiction