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theywhowriteandknowthings · 6 months

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Murder Daddy Kinktober 2023 Day 17 - Why do you run, only to let me catch you? Din Djarin x Reader

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Please heed these warnings and the warnings put in place on each individual fic and chapter. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. Specific Warnings: PiV sex, unprotected sex, mutual pining, grogu being a sessy bitch, blood, addiction mentions, addiction, oral F&M recieving, Whiny Din Supremacy.

Graphics made by me Thank you again to @beefrobeefcal @clawdee and @pastelnap for beta-ing! Read on AO3 Please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon if you want to support me.

Why do you run, only to let me catch you?

Your relationship – if you could even call it that – with Din Djarin is a complex one, and one you love to hate, or hate to love. It’s been too long now that those lines don’t really exist anymore. There’s a passion in your chest reserved only for him, but to call it love would be a disservice, what you shared with the most feared bounty hunter in the system is something much more than that.

But it’s been at least a Standard Year since you last caught a glimpse of polished Beskar, a sight that set your heart racing like a jump to light speed. You’d heard of his exploits alongside Bo-Katan , and that of his adopted son Din Grogu, and how the three of them took down Moff Gideon and reunited the Mandalorian people.

But, as much as hearing those feats make you somewhat proud of the Beskar clad menace, it only makes you yearn for him more. You’re lost in thought when the droid in front of you snaps you out of it.

“Miss?”

The chaotic roar of the casino comes back to you in a flash, you’d been deep in your own thought spiral you had cut out everything but the image of a silver-clad predator from your mind as you yearned for the thrill of the chase.

The table is looking at you expectantly as you realize you’d slipped off into a daydream, it was your hand. You study the purple skinned Twi’lek opposite you with a smirk, he’s hiding it well, but he’s panicking. You look back to your hand. You’re currently holding eight cards, between the minus 6 modifier and the rest, you’re sitting pretty at seventeen.

You could stand, and hope that your opponent goes bust but there’s no fun in playing this game safe. Especially when this is all the thrill you live for now that your cat and mouse days with Din Djarin are over.

You let your fingertips hover over your side deck, drawing out the moment as you eye up the ten-thousand credit pot on the table. You close your eyes, snatching the card from the deck and you can’t keep your poker face up when you draw a three.

The Twi’lek across from you swears and stands with such force it spills his Spotchka cocktail over the table and you quickly scoop up the credits, protecting your winnings from the hazy blue liquid. The casino hushes around you and you look up from your pile of riches to see what has everyone on edge.

Then you see him.

Shining Beskar, tattered, flowing black cloak, blaster on his hip as the lacquered black T of his visor bores into you. Your blood runs cold, then burns hotter than the binary suns when you see him. A broad smile stretches across your lips. You’re not dressed for a fight, nor a chase, with ridiculously high heels and a tight sequined, green bodycon dress that was not meant for running. Time seems to still as you drop the credits back on the table. The clink of metal-on-metal deafening in the otherwise silent casino.

Mando tilts his head to the side, just enough to issue the challenge. You take a deep breath, formulating your escape as you see him reach for his blaster.

I can take you in warm, or I can take you in cold.

Those first few words uttered to you as he had you pinned over the bar of a cantina on Tatooine replay in your head as you wink at the Beskar-clad menace. Heat pools in your core as you remember how it felt to be pinned by such a strong, confident man.

You kick off your heels, snatching them up before diving through the crowd. You’re sprinting through the main hall, bare feet slapping against the smooth flooring, making you slip and slide as you hear the unmistakable spur-like clink of metal on metal as Mando gives chase.

You barge through the chaos of Canto Bight, drinks fly as you blindly frisbee a tray at Mando, he bats it away with ease as he breaks into a run, forgoing the initial long, loping strides. You dash through the service entrance, following a waitress before the security door closes. The sound of Beskar pounding against Durasteel as Mando collides with the door has you grinning in premature triumph.

You slip through the halls, ducking confused looking waiters, a Bothan swearing at you as you make your way through to the back door. You break out into the neon-glare of the city and immediately slow your pace. You slip your heels back on and try to blend in with the denizens of Canto Bight.

The streets are packed, holographic screens of kids racing on Fathiers illuminate the facades of the various casinos and hotels. It’s a big race, you should know, you’ve got a lot of money on Skystrider tonight.

Maybe I’ll get lucky a second time tonight?

You think to yourself as you lament the credits you had left behind. You just know the Twi’lek you beat would have taken the winnings in the confusion.

But there was a bigger prize at stake now, one that you were determined to win.

“You’re a hard woman to find.”

Mando’s modulated voice growls from over your shoulder. You don’t react, keeping up your purposeful stride as you weave in and out of the throng of bodies. The clink of his suit loud in your ear, you can feel his presence behind you like a heavy weight on your back.

“Was starting to think you’d forgotten about me Mando, way to make a girl feel unwanted.”

You purr as you feel a gloved hand brush the small of your back, you stop abruptly, making Mando crash into your back and you cry out. You give your best performance, letting out a terrified wail that has people turning to look at the way you cower away from the Mandalorian.

“Help he’s assaulting me, please!”

You turn on the spot, clutching at your chest as you back away from him. Mando halts as his visor scans the now antagonistic crowd around him. You wink and poke out your tongue as a man steps between you.

“Hey, tin-can, leave the lady alone.”

“She’s quarry, get out of my way.”

The man looks over his shoulder at you and you give him the waterworks, eyes pleading as you fight to keep the smile off your face.

“Heard that excuse before, just because you’re some hot shot Mando doesn’t mean you can treat a lady like that.”

The other man squares up to Din and you almost hang around to watch the pissing match, but you know you must take every advantage you can get. You take a tentative step back, Mando’s visor tilting to watch your movements as the other man keeps blustering on about honor and some other chivalrous shit. You blow Mando a kiss as you slip your heels off again.

The world blurs around you as you sprint as fast as your legs can carry you, neon lights, steam from exhaust vents, people of all races and creeds whipping by as you feel your lungs burn and you step on something sharp, but the adrenaline keeps the pain at bay.

You hear blaster fire behind you and wince a little at the fact you might have just got an innocent man killed.

There are no innocent partygoers on Canto Bight.

You think to yourself as you reach the spaceport. Your entire body trembles from overexertion as you stumble into the hangar that houses your X-wing. Your definitely, legitimately sourced X-Wing, and definitely not the one you won from a Sabacc game with a gullible young pilot.

You chuckle to yourself at the memory, opening the cockpit of your fighter until you look around the hangar and see a Mandalorian Class Gauntlet in the next bay over.

That wasn’t there when I landed.

Your stomach drops and you hear a soft modulated huff from the hangar door. Your head snaps up and you see the silhouette of the bounty hunter illuminated by the vibrant, neon rainbow of light bleeding in from the street.

You throw your heels onto the floor and launch yourself into the pilot’s seat, you begin your pre-flight checks but none of the lights or displays come online. You sigh, laughing breathily as you realize he’s done something to immobilize your ship. You have no idea how he knew this was yours, you’re pretty sure it’s still registered under the name Antilles.

You let yourself catch your breath for a moment as the clink of Beskar grows louder with every step. You try to think of a way out of this, some distraction, or final gambit to worm your way out of his clutches, but it’s futile. You’re backed into a corner.

“Alright, you’ve got me. If I promise to be good, could you forgo the carbonite? I break out every time.”

“I’m not stupid, you’d just find a way out of your restraints and gut me in my sleep.”

You shrug, you can’t blame him for that, you did shank him in his sleep the last time you promised to be good when he caught you on Endor. You can still hear the howl of pain as you disappeared into the undergrowth as he pulled the vibroknife – his vibroknife – out of his thigh.

“Fine, but I’m not moving, you’re dragging me onto that ship. I winded myself with all that running, and I think I’ve lost a lot of blood.”

You babble as you look down at the crimson liquid pooling in your cockpit. You chuckle as you feel your head spin, fractals of light crack like shattering Transparisteel across your vision as you let your head loll back onto the headrest.

“What are you-?” Mando asks as he climbs the ladder attached to the cockpit, “Dank Farrik!” He swears as he hurries to pick you up. You laugh to yourself, bemused by the way he seems to care about whether you were hurt.

“Thought you could bring me in hot, or bring me in cold?” You slur as you wrap your arms drunkenly around Mando’s neck, leaning into the cool Beskar of his chest. You breathe in the scent of Beskar, oil, and something like citrus as your vision fades to black.

~*~

You blink awake to a brightly lit hold. You hiss as the white light burns into your eyes, the sound of air recyclers humming all around you a telltale sign you were on ship, likely out of atmosphere already.

“Kriff.”

You groan as you close your eyes, you guess you’re on Mando’s ship, the Gauntlet you saw in the hangar most likely. You take in slow, steadying breaths as you try and figure out your next move. A small gurgle from beside you has you rolling your head to the side, slowly opening your eyes to the sweet little face of the little green kid Mando drags across space with him.

“Kiddo!” You cry and the little guy lights up at the sound of your voice. His large pointy ears perk up and his mouth parts open in joy as he scurries over to you, hopping up on the cot with ease and burying himself in your side as he coos softly against your chest. You smile as you feel something thin and rectangular slip under you on the cot.

“Missed you too buddy, old man’s still dragging you around the galaxy with him?”

The kid hums in a positive affirmation as he babbles away. You get hints of intention from him, like ghosts of thoughts brushing against your mind as he “talks” away at you.

“Grogu?”

Din calls from the cockpit and you sit up in the cot, the impromptu reunion with your secret best friend cut short as you watch Din freeze in the doorway to the hold.

“Get away from him.” Din’s voice is impossibly low, even through the modulator. You’ve never heard him this pissed before.

“Hey, he was the one to instigate this mutinous friendship, not me!”

You frown at the Beskar menace and cross your arms over your chest, Grogu, as you have always known him, follows suit. He plops himself down on the cot next to you and crosses his tiny little arms across his chest before grunting unhappily at his guardian.

“What do you mean friendship?”

“How many times have you gotten me this far Mando, and left me alone in your ship while you slept or got supplies?”

“How should I-?”

“Twenty-seven times, twenty-eight if we count the time I had you tied up-.”

“Naboo doesn’t count.” Din hisses as he leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms so that you are all in some strange, mirrored standoff.

“Fine, but my point being, kiddo’s curious, and you’re a heavy sleeper.”

“I am not.”

“So, you don’t remember when we played Don’t wake the sleeping Nerf and covered you with forty-six different pieces of junk from around the ship, including the Darksaber?”

“What are you-?”

“Oh, kriff kiddo, he really did sleep through that.”

Grogu laughs, an angelic little sound that makes your cheeks burn with how much you’re smiling at him. Mando stands there, rage rolling off him in waves as he tries to figure out what to say.

“Hey, Mando?” You ask, your tone softer this time as you realize you’re more likely to push him away if you keep teasing him.

“What?”

“You ever figure out my real name?”

“Your real name? No. Why?”

“Just curious, you got my puck on you?”

“Of course.” He grumbles, as if it’s insulting for you to have even asked, before bringing up the holographic image of you. Four statements swirl around the image, and you smile as you read them off in your head.

Whyte Phantom – Thirty Thousand Credits – Exclusive contract.

The final statement is a name.

“Wanna see my identity card?” You ask rhetorically as you pull it up from the datapad the kid had slipped you before his dad came in. Din’s head tilts at the sight of it, before turning to look at Grogu who is pointedly looking anywhere but his dad.

Din grumbles something under his breath as he steps into the hold, head dipping low to read the datapad.

“But that’s? You’re?”

“I put the bounty on myself, yup.”

“Why?”

The question catches you off-guard, you don’t really know yourself, other than you thought it would be a way to ward off the crippling despair you felt every time you walked through the streets of Coruscant. To combat the loneliness in your soul that festers in the darkness of a post-Empire-pre-utopian galaxy. The galaxy that has war veterans dying of Spice addictions while places like Canto Bight prosper as if nothing ever changed.

You could say that, but you won’t, that would require inner strength you just don’t have. So, you quip instead.

“Thought it was kinda hot, having one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy chase me?”

You flash him a practiced, perfect smile and you wait for the anger to come, bracing yourself for violence or harsh words.

“Fine.”

The Mandalorian walks over to your cot and picks up Grogu, moving wordlessly as he scoops him up and takes him up into the cockpit. You curse to yourself quietly as you rub your tired eyes. You were so close to telling him the truth, revealing yourself to the most closed-off person in this damned galaxy.

You lie back down on the cot and take a look at your foot. You smile at the smooth skin, no doubt the kid has healed you with his magic little claws. You can almost hear the conversation between them, Grogu would have insisted on using the force to heal you, Din would have argued against it, you deserved to heal slowly for being such a brat.

You feel Grogu’s mind brush against yours and you get two clear feelings flash through in your mind, his dad, and the intention to speak.

I’ve got a bad feeling about this, kid.

You think back, pushing your intent towards the cockpit. Grogu simply responds with a second, stronger intention, talk to him.

You sigh to yourself as you feel his little brainwaves dim as he clearly drifts off to sleep. You rub your hands over your eyes and decide to look for the fresher, and some clean clothes.

~*~

An hour later you hover outside the cockpit door, trying to decide if you should go in or not. You’re about to press the call button when the door hisses open in front of you. Mando charges through, seemingly not noticing you until he’s crashing his chest plate against your nose.

“Son of a Wompa!” You cry out as you feel your nose pop, blood gushes down your face and onto the soft cotton shirt you’d fished out from the storage bins. You stumble backwards and feel yourself pitching backwards, your head spinning as you wait for the inevitable crash of your body on the metal grating.

But Mando saves you from the fall, pulling you up into a loose embrace as he stops you from hurting yourself further.

“Maker, you’re a menace.” He grumbles through the modulator as his hands linger on your biceps.

“Yeah, well maybe you should watch where you’re going.”

“Kriff, this was a mistake.”

Din growls as he releases you and turns to walk back into the cockpit. You curse inwardly as you catch his wrist before he can move.

“Wait,” You growl, guilt and frustration making your stomach turn, “Please, can we talk?”

Din looks over his shoulder at you, giving you the perfect view of the profile of his helmet. Not for the first time you wonder what he looks like under there.

“Fine.”

You expect him to pull out of your grip – which he does – but what you don’t expect is the way his gloved hand falls to rest between your shoulder blades, steering you back towards the cot. He expects you to sit but you gesture for him to take a seat instead. He sits up straight, broad hands splayed on his knees as he follows you with his visor as you pace in front of him.

“So, I put the bounty on my head because I needed something in my life that wasn’t death, pain, suffering, or losing my mind to the poisons of gambling, Spice, and liquor.”

“Go on.”

You pause, looking down at the crimson spill of blood on the stolen t-shirt. You drag the back of your hand across the wet smear on your top lip and let out a soft sigh.

“I ran circles around the first six bounty hunters, and it was getting boring, I was considering calling it off,” You continue pacing, wringing your hands on the hem of the t-shirt that barely covers your ass, “Then, you come along, Din kriffing Djarin, one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy.”

Din is silent but you see him shift, sitting up a little straighter at your harsh words of scornful praise.

“And the chase began, you were always so close, often a step or two ahead, and it was like I was breathing fresh air after having only ever known the stale, recycled air of a space station my whole life.”

Din turns his head, the action jarring as you realize he’s avoiding your gaze, you can almost imagine him blushing under that helmet and the thought alone makes heat flutter under your skin.

“And by the fourth time, on Coruscant, you became my own personal blend of Spice.”

You stop pacing, waiting for Din to say something, anything. He sits, still looking away from you and you shake your head. You’re barking up the wrong tree, you’ve kriffed up yet another thing in your life.

But this was by far the most pain you’d ever endured, spilling your guts to a man you had no right feeling anything for. It feels like your skin is positively charged, tremors rocking you as you fight the urge to cry, your chest tight and painful as you feel the binding sting of rejection heavy and constricting.

“Look, just forget it, space me, drop me off at the nearest system, whatever. I’ll get your credits transferred now. You won’t have to see me again.”

You pull up your datapad and through blurry eyes you close the contract, the credits transferring instantly. You turn away, making for the fresher once more, you need to set your nose and clean up. You also need to cry, and you weren’t going to make yourself look any more pathetic in front of him than you already had.

Your skin is on fire, nervous sweat beading on your brow as your skin itches and tingles. Pain rocks through your body as you force the sobs down, just a few more steps and you can cry before wresting your bleeding and broken heart – or whatever is left of it – back into submission.

A Spice addiction can’t be that bad surely?

You joke morbidly to yourself as you reach the fresher door, it slides open just as you hear the spur-like clink of Beskar behind you.

“Wait.”

You halt in your tracks, heart threatening to burst from your chest as you feel him looming behind you. Two armor-clad arms wrap around your waist and pull you back against him, the cool press of Beskar on your flushed skin is blissful.

“I don’t want you to go.”

His voice is so soft, barely above a whisper that you almost miss it through the modulator.

“What?”

“Let me fix your nose, then we should talk, for real this time.”

You turn in his grip and look up into the glossy black “T” of his visor. You can’t see his face, but you can see the way his chest is heaving, the way his arms are wrapping around you like the moment he loosens off you’ll disappear.

Can you blame him?

You think to yourself as you realize that every time you managed to escape, it was harder and harder for you to leave. Not because you had grown bored of the chase – no quite the opposite – you were afraid that with every time you left the chances of him giving up on you grew. One day he was going to stop coming for you.

And for a year he did.

“Ok.” You say softly as you let him steer you into the fresher, he hoists you up before setting you down on the edge of the Durasteel sink. He removes his gloves, stuffing them in the back of his belt before readying himself.

“This’ll hurt.”

Din warns you as he lines himself up in front of you. He slots between your thighs without hesitation, and you regret not stealing a pair of his boxer briefs to slip on under the t-shirt. You had thought that was crossing a line into his privacy. But now, as your bare, embarrassingly wet core is but millimeters from his crotch, you really wish you had.

“Ready?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. Din braces himself a little closer again and you hiss through your teeth as his strong, warm fingers snap your broken nose back into place.

“There you go,” his modulated voice is soft as he cups your cheeks with his impossibly broad hands, his fingertips ghosting your hairline as he turns your head back and forth with meticulous care for his handiwork, “Should heal up just fine.”

He starts to pulls away from your face, but you capture his wrists in your hands. You gently pull on his wrists and guide them to your hips. His chest heaves as you hear his breathing speed up through the modulator and you squeeze your thighs around his waist, pulling him closer. You feel the heat prickle over your skin as your drenched core presses against his crotch. You gasp as you feel him twitch in his flight suit against you.

“What are you doing?”

“What I should have done on Naboo.” You breathe as you gently unclasp his cloak, fingers trembling as you pull down the neck of his flight suit, baring a thin strip of tan skin. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and press a delicate, feather-light kiss to his exposed skin.

You don’t know what to expect, but the soft, whimpering moan that crackles through his modulator is more than you bargained for. You arch up into him, nipples pebbling as the thin fabric of his blood-soaked shirt does little to mute the cold press of Beskar against your skin.

“Maker.” Din whines again as you latch onto his skin, laving your tongue over his pulse point as you pull the collar down further, you nip lightly at his skin as you grind your core against him. He slowly pushes up the hem of the oversized t-shirt and as his fingertips reach the swell of your ass. He grinds forward aggressively, and you can tell he’s fully hard now. He leans back and tilts his helmet to the side in a silent question.

“Didn’t think stealing your underwear was the right thing to do.”

“So, you just decided to go commando?”

“What can I say? I like the freedom, besides the synthetic silk of my thong was starting to chafe.”

Din swears in another language, you assume Mando’a, before laughing softly, he presses the side of his helmet against your cheek, and you are reminded of the way Lothcats headbutt to show affection.

“We don’t have to do anything,” You say softly as you slowly pull away, moving the collar back up to cover his tantalizing skin, “I just needed to touch you, just once.”

“I want you.”

You pull back and look into the deep depths of his visor and you nod slowly, you place your hands on either side of his helmet, nestling in the concave cheeks. He flinches and you feel his hands twitch on your thighs, but you shake your head slowly before leaning in to place a soft, lingering kiss over where you guess his lips are.

“Bed. Now.”

Din barks as he picks you up with ease, one arm wrapped around your waist as he strides through into the crew quarters. He uses his free hand to turn off the lights on the control panel next to the fresher door. The cavernous space is pitch black as Din lays you back down on the cot.

“Din what are you doing?” You giggle softly, anticipation making you giddy.

“Want to taste you,” Din murmurs as you hear the sound of Beskar buckles and plates sliding over one another. He sets them down gently somewhere near the bottom of the cot, followed by the soft sound of his flight suit dropping to the floor, “Need you.”

“Din, you have me.”

You feel him settle between your knees and Maker is he broad. Then you hear the soft hiss-click of his helmet coming off. You squeeze your eyes shut, knowing the significance of him taking his helmet off in your presence.

“I won’t look, I promise,” You whisper as you feel him covering over you, his strong hands roam your body, mapping out your dips and curves.

“I trust you. You could have taken my helmet off many times over the years, and yet, you did not.”

His voice hits you like a long-lost melody, silken and sweet with a burning richness to it that makes you whine and keen up into him. Your hips roll against his length, and you gasp as his tip glides through your folds.

“Can I taste you, please?” You ask, suddenly feeling bold in the darkness.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.” Din suddenly sounds bashful, and you smile to yourself as he shows you the side of him you’ve only caught in glimpses when he thought you were out of earshot. The softness he shows Grogu, the care for his adopted son. This is different, unlike those interactions entirely, but the man beneath the Beskar is finally laid bare, for you.

“I want to Din, please.”

“Anything, take anything you want.”

Your heart swells and your pussy clenches around nothing at his words. You blindly reposition, careful to keep your eyes shut, until you’re kneeling between Din’s knees. You run your hands over the thick expanse of his muscular thighs as you gently, teasingly move towards his cock.

Your hands brush over neatly kept curls at the base of it, and you smile to yourself as you use your hands to blindly size it up.

“Interesting.” You hum to yourself and you feel Din shift under you.

“What? Do you not like it? Is it too small?”

“Din, shh,” You coo as you cup his balls with one hand, making your way to the base of his shaft with your lips, “Just expected you to be painfully large, you give off some serious big dick energy strutting around in your Beskar like you own the entire Maker-be-damned galaxy.”

“So, you like it?” He huffs out, squirming at your praise as you flatten your tip against his soft foreskin, licking a long, slow stripe up the underside of his cock.

“I think it’s perfect, you’re perfect.”

You wrap your lips around his tip, pressing your tongue against his slit, circling around his tip, lapping up the pre-come before sinking down his length.

He pants and whines under you as you feel him shift under you, he cups your jaw with one hand as he props himself up on his elbow with the other. You feel his eyes on you, you expect his night vision to be pretty good at this point, but you keep your eyes clamped shut.

“You’re beautiful.”

You groan at his praise and wish you could open your eyes, to look up at him as you choke on his cock. You sink all the way down, you breathe through your nose, inhaling the musky scent of his cock and you let out a soft whine as he nudges against the back of your throat.

“Kriff.” Din grunts as he trembles underneath you, his breathing is shallow as he twitches and whines at every particularly deep bob of our dead.

“Stop.”

He growls aggressively as he sits up, moving you off his cock before pushing you onto your back. He settles between your legs, pulling your legs over his shoulders as he buries his mouth in your dripping folds.

“So sweet.” He murmurs into your skin as you feel the coarse rake of facial hair on your outer folds. His lips find your clit and you cry out when his tongue licks a stripe up from your core to your clit. Everything about him is broad, his tongue laves over your swollen bundle of nerves and you near lose it.

“Din, kriff your mouth feels so good.” You pant as your hips cant up, you glide your fingertips in his hair, not thinking to check if he even had hair. You’re met with soft, damp curls that you immediately twist into your grip. You pull him closer, letting him devour you with abandon. His tongue is unrelenting as two thick fingers come to press against your core.

“Please.”

Is all you can say as you need him inside you, you’re already so close and you want to feel him inside you however possible.

“So kriffing tight.”

Din breathes incredulously as he buries his fingers to the knuckle, his lips find your clit once more and he sucks. You bite down hard on your lip as you fight the urge to scream. Pleasure assaults you like a solar flare, permeating every cell of your body in violent waves as you come hard around his fingers. You’re delirious as you sob through your aftershocks, his thick fingers finally stilling as you tremble from overstimulation.

“Can I have you, please?”

“Yes.”

You hear the lewd sound of him sucking his fingers clean before he crawls back over your body, wet fingers trail over your left nipple and you chase the touch, arching up off the cot.

“So pretty like this.”

Din hums softly as he rolls your nipple between his calloused thumb and forefinger, making you squeal in overstimulated pain and pleasure as he lines up his tip at your core with the other hand. He eases in and you pant at the delicious stretch. He enters you with ease, yet makes your walls flutter and clamp around him as he fits you snugly.

“Kiss me.”

You plead. His lips crash into yours without hesitation and you moan into his mouth as he starts to move, rolling his hips into you like he knows exactly how you like it. You tease your tongue over his bottom lip and his tongue darts out to meet yours.

Your tongues meet outside of your mouths, sliding over one another in a lewd dance as his thrusts pick up speed. You’re both panting hard when Din seals his lips over yours. His tongue presses into your mouth as you dig your nails into his back. You press together, skin to skin, nails digging little crescent circles in the broad expanse of his back.

Your lips part only to gasp for air before you both dive back in for more, more, more. One of your hand moves to fist into the curls at the nape of his neck, the other drops to your clit. You want to come for him one more time, you want him to feel you squeeze him tight.

“Din, going to come.” You pant against his lips and he groans as he picks up the pace, railing you like it’s the last time.

“Come for me Cyar’ika, let me feel you.”

You do as your told, for the first time in your life, and you come hard. Pleasure seeps into your very bones as fire dances down your spine. Your clit throbs as you press hard circles into it. You feel Din stutter inside you and you feel him start to pull out but you hook your ankles around the small of his back.

“Come inside me.”

You whisper into the crook of his ear as you pull him deep into you.

“Maker!”

Din roars, no longer caring about noise it seems, as he pounds into you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You’re whimpering in his ear as his desperate grunts and moans fill your own. He stills inside you, buried to the hilt as he twitches inside you, his spend coating your walls as you pant in his ear.

“Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you?”

Din’s voice is heavy with concern, his breath fanning over your slick skin in soft puffs and you wrap yourself around him like an Ewok.

“No, no you’ve never hurt me, Din.”

You breathe as you nuzzle into his neck, you leave soft, open-mouthed kisses against his skin. You never want this moment to end.

“Come on, we need to shower.”

“Nooooo,” You whine, “Just a few more minutes, don’t want to lose you.”

The words escape from your lips before you can stop them; and Din huffs a short, barking laugh against your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your temple as he pulls out.

“You can’t lose me, I’ve been tracking you for too long, I know you.”

“And I know you. Forever.”

You say, knowing those words in Mando’a means much more than in Galactic Basic. Din presses a soft kiss to your lips, neither acknowledging them nor refuting them. But there’s no rejection in his silence, just a mutual understanding that you are both in this for real.

“Five more minutes.”

Din grunts in submission as he settles on the small cot, pulling you against his bare chest as he places soft kisses to your hairline as you both drift off into the best sleep either of you could ever remember.

Tag list: @pr0ximamidnight @ktheunready @harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @wannab-urs @neverwheremoonchild @noisynightmarepoetry @casa-boiardi @xoxabs88xox @guelyury @its-nebuleuse @deadly-femme-bimbo @covetyou @christinamadsen @mirandablue1 @clawdee @youandmeand5bucks-blog @hiddenbabynyc @stevie75 @star017 @vabeachazn @darkheartgatita @patti7dc @pastelnap @beskarandblasters @jksprincess10 @beefrobeefcal

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coruscantsbookstore · 2 years

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fives: captain, fuck marry kill: skywalker, secura, kenobi

rex: first, kill skywalker because he annoys the shit out of me

rex: second, uh

cody in the corner, polishing his blaster, without looking up: i know you don't do it often, but i want you to think very hard about what you're going to say next

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #cc 2224 #commander cody #clone wars #star wars hc #codywan #captain rex #ct 7567 #fives #ct 5555

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boggsart · 1 year

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So. Another school project that consists of 13 illustrations of...clones ofc

Blasters are looking crusty as fuck, and the whole thing is still unfinished tbh, needs a lot of polishing, but i'd say i did a somewhat decent job considering i only had ONE FUCJJJVKDKKUD WEEK to finish all of them

i'm tired

ps: i'm aware i f-ed up Echo's quote. In my defense, all of those quotes were written from memory, and that's how i remembered, sooo...sorryyyyy

13/4

[501st]

[Wolffe]

[Cody]

[Coruscant Guard]

#star wars #star wars fanart #star wars drawing #clone wars #clone wars fanart #clone wars drawing #bad batch #bad batch fanart #bad batch drawing #bad batch hunter #bad batch echo #bad batch crosshair #bad batch tech #tbb #my art

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skellymom · 1 month

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"Bring Me To My Knees" PART 1

Crosshair/Hunter x Reader Non Gendered SMUT++

Dividers by the talented: @saradika and @4ngelic-wh1spers

Background: Reader and Crosshair are separated from the group during the rescue of Omega and Tech from Mt Tantiss. Two broken people trying to get by in the galaxy. Then two broken people finally dealing with what happened to their group.

Word Count: 2.3K

Warning: Star Wars Canon violence, angst, sadness, crying, guilt, stuff blowing up, swearing, kissing, intercourse, heavy petting, hair pulling kink, smutty/lemony content, lovers triangle with Hunter and Crosshair.

FOR CLARITY, THERE IS A HUNTER FLASHBACK SMUT SCENE IN THIS CHAPTER. THE CROSSHAIR SMUT SCENE IS IN CHAPTER 2. Broke this up in 2 chapters because I just couldn't stop writing...and 4K might be too much for one sitting.

*YES! I know Mesh'la is Mando'a speak for beautiful. However, I personally think it sounds pretty sexy when someone uses it while going to Pound Town. I like it better than baby, honey, girl, boy, lover, whatever. My personal kink. If you aren't caught up, there's a whole Tumblr discussion about if the Clones would even use this language. PLEASE just let me have this one word. Thanks.

I purposely wrote the reader in this fic to be of no specific gender. Tried to carefully craft the sexual scenes to accommodate either gender/non gendered/trans/genderfluid/non-binary. Everyone has hills, valleys, sexual organs, nipples, and erogenous zones. I wrote them into the story, but it's up to you dear reader to put your imagination to work. Hope I have done a good enough job that you can enjoy yourself with Hunter and Crosshair without breaking immersion!

Explosions and blaster fire filled the air as you, Phee Genoa, and The Batch escaped Mt Tantiss. Wrecker led the charge, firing away and punching imps. Phee behind him with a group of prisoners she freed from the facility. Hunter, his arm around Tech who was barely able to walk, blaster out firing. You and Omega supported Crosshair bringing up the rear of the group.

The Empire attempted to lock down the facility, engaging all doors on every level. Hunter got Tech past them as they started to close.

He turned with Tech in tow to shout, “Y/N, Omega, bring Crosshair! Hurry!!!”

You and Omega would never make it with the slow progress Cross was making. Grabbing Omega and with a healthy heft, you slid her across the highly polished flooring. She barely exited past the threshold just as the doors closed.

The last thing you and Crosshair saw was Omega loudly protesting while Hunter grabbed the back of her tunic to yank her out of the way. And the look of total panic on Hunter’s face.

“Leave me.” Crosshair weakly slumped against the steel hallway wall.

“SHUT UP! Too late for that!!!” You grabbed Cross’ arm and attempted to pull him up.

He refused to move. You were warned he might be difficult.

“GET UP NOW YOU FUCKING MOP!!!” Viciously kicking his upper thigh in heated frustration.

That got his attention. Crosshair’s head flicked up. Anger in his eyes.

You grabbed the front of his tunic with both hands, hefting him up, spitting with rage “I’M NOT DYING HERE! GET UP YOU UNGRATEFUL ASSHOLE!!!”

He managed to stand with his arm around your shoulders. Pulling your blaster. “How do we get out of here?”

“How should I know? Been locked up all this time.”

“KRIFF! Knew I threw the wrong person under the door!!!”

“Didn’t ask YOU to save me.”

You gritted your teeth and shot the control panel to the door the rest of The Batch disappeared through. The doors managed to only open a few feet. You literally stuffed Crosshair into the gap. His protests were muted by the sound of screams and explosions. He got stuck halfway through, then you put a foot in his ass and pushed. He popped through falling into a crouch on the floor.

“You’re INSANE!”

“YES! KEEP MOVING!!!”

Running up to Cross, you grabbed the back of his tunic and pulled him to his feet. Both of you ran across the hangar bay. The Marauder and Phee’s ship were gone. You weren’t upset, they HAD to leave in a hurry. It was total chaos.

You both made a beeline for the first empty Imperial ship available. Entering, you slid into the pilot’s seat and put up the gangplank. Then commenced firing on every non-friendly that approached. Some of the other Imperial ships got caught in the crossfire, exploding dramatically. Crosshair buckled himself into the co-pilot's chair.

As your ship left the hangar, two fighters followed in hot pursuit. You kept the craft low and entered the thick forest, shooting down trees in your path. Crosshair held onto his seat white knuckled.

“You’re going to get us killed!”

“Got any better ideas, Fly Boy? We’re sitting ducks out in the open.”

He shut up and held on.

One ship pulled away from pursuit.

The other followed. You kept firing, making a path to evade your pursuer.

He didn’t last long. One tree you felled, dragged another with it as you passed. It caught its wing, flinging the ship to the forest floor, exploding brightly behind you.

Pulling the craft up out of the forest, you ascended...

...where the other Imperial fighter sat waiting!

Close enough to see its pilot in the cockpit, waiting to open fire.

The end of the line. Crosshair inhaled sharply.

The ship exploded suddenly. And your craft flew through the fiery remains.

“Didn’t think I’d leave you?” Hunter’s voice came over the comm.

You nearly burst into tears of joy. “Oh, THANK STARS!”

“Let’s get out of here! Echo’s sending jump coordinates...” You immediately heard blaster fire over their comm. The transmission broke up.

“HUNTER???”

Static. “...ing to...GO! Can you hea...” More static. Comm went dead. Nothing.

“HUNTER! HUNTER...COME IN!!! CAN YOU HEAR ME???”

Crosshair shot you a horrified glance.

The little bit you could discern, your Sergeant’s orders were to leave the planet immediately. What if they needed help? You couldn’t leave HIM...them behind!

You brought the ship around and could see a craft trailing fire and smoke behind it. Looked to be the Havoc Marauder making its way off world. Several Imperial fighters were gaining on it. Kicking your ship into gear and taking off in their direction. You picked off two and allowed the Marauder to make the jump to hyperspace.

The last ship circled round.

Panicking, locking up, “Where did they go? I don’t have coordinates!”

Crosshair’s terse voice came from the co-pilot's seat, “Pick ANY! We don’t have time!!!”

“But...we...”

“DO IT or we die!” Dark eyes bore into your skull. “I’LL DO IT!!! You make the jump!” He furiously typed something into the craft’s dash.

“Jump...NOW!!!”

The Imperial fighter on your tail, firing.

You sat frozen. Your hand a lead weight on the jump lever.

“DAMMIT!” Crosshair slammed his hand on top of yours, shoving the lever over. The black star-studded sky elongated; bright blue light burst through the windscreen.

You sat staring through the windscreen of the ship, blue blurs whizzing past.

“Y/N?”

A hand suddenly on your shoulder.

“WHAT!” You jumped and snapped upright.

“You...went away for a while...”

Staring at Crosshair’s unreadable expression.

“We’ll find them. Take some time, though.”

Nodding, you relaxed back in the seat. “Yeah, gonna take some doing.”

Handing the soup bowl to Crosshair, he sulked...and refused to eat...again.

“You NEED to eat.”

He sneered.

“Don’t make me regret getting you out of that facility.”

Cross sighed heavily and took the bowl. He STILL wasn't eating, just staring into it. This man was driving you insane...if you didn’t kill him first.

“It’s actually pretty good for a ration packet. Provided you eat it while still warm.”

“Why are you bothering?”

ON YOUR LAST NERVE.

“Why did YOU bother pushing us into hyperspace...if you want to suffer and die so badly?”

Silence.

Suddenly you had the urge to slap the damned bowl out of his hand. “REALLY??? Let your skinny ass STARVE! Ungrateful son-of-a...kriffing...GAH! FUCK!!!”

Your sudden anger sparked something.

Crosshair slowly smirked.

“Knock it off and DRINK YOUR FUCKING SOUP!” Getting up, stalking off, mumbling angrily to yourself...hoping the tiny food galley didn’t have any knives.

Checking up later, you found the bowl empty. Cross slumped in the chair; eyes closed.

To anyone else, it would look like he was napping. You knew better.

You picked up the bowl to take it back to the galley.

“My compliments to the chef.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I meant it.”

“Whatever.”

Cross opened his eyes, aiming for an argument. “It’s a compliment. Take it or leave it.”

“I don’t trust you.”

An unexpectedly hurt expression flickered across his face. “This isn’t about the soup, is it?”

“No genius. I was warned you’re a constant shit stirrer.”

“Well, Hunter was never my biggest fan.”

“It wasn’t Hunter.”

This seemed to surprise Crosshair.

“Echo...he’s a bit of a shit stirrer himself. Takes one to know one.”

Cross raised an eyebrow.

“Oh...and Wrecker thinks you take yourself too seriously. I think his actual words were...he needs to unclench his butt cheeks.”

Raised the other eyebrow.

“But Wrecker was incorrect.”

“Oh?”

“As far as I can tell, you DON’T have an ass.”

Crosshair leaned forward, slight smirk around the edges of his mouth.

“Been looking...have you?”

“I think most people would say you’re just a torso with legs...Toothpick.”

He genuinely smiled at the new nickname.

“More soup?”

“Yes more, Soup.”

Nights were difficult and Crosshair struggled to sleep through. Awakening to hear him working through a nightmare. Sometimes he would mutter, groan, and thrash about, eventually snoring again. This happened several times a night. Other times he would awaken, panting and sweating, trying to remember he was no longer imprisoned on Mt Tantiss.

At first, he turned down your attempts to soothe him. That didn’t last long. It became a habit of you sitting next to his bunk on the metal floor, talking him through it. Eventually, you just crawled into bed and laid there next to him. It was certainly more comfortable than that damned hard floor.

Crosshair’s breathing settled into a regular rhythm. Stars, it was warm and cozy in this bunk. The idea of walking across that cold decking to your own bunk just seemed depressing. Five more minutes and you’d get up.

That didn’t happen. Two minutes in and you passed out cold.

youtube

(You like a song to go with the scene? Please check out this song. It "literally" FUCKS!!!)

"Mmhmmm...”

The deep bass of Hunter’s groan making you wetter as his hard cock slid in and out of you.

“Ohh...fuu...mmm...” Words were difficult when he kissed your neck like this. Whispering sweet things in your ear while gently fucking your brains out.

Laying on your sides, facing each other. One leg thrown over his hips, both of your hands deep in his curls. Grasping them with ferocity. The pain brought him pleasure...

Hunter slid his hand down your back to firmly grip your buttocks and picked up the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Kriff...can’t wait to do this...with you...in our home...all...the...fucking...time...” The last four words he spoke with each luscious stroke of his member.

“Huuunter...” Your eyes rolled back into your head.

“Got...a nice...little planet...just...for us...”

Heat and intensity rising in you.

“You...want...that...too...?”

...sliding in...

You gasp...” Yes...”

“Yeah?” Cajoling you with that sexy fucking voice.

...sliding out...

“YES...”

...sliding in...

“Tell me, Mesh’la.” He’s shuddering.

Your back arches “YES!!!”

Hunter reaches out and caresses your face...

...and you awake with a start. Crosshair had an expression like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Pulling back his hand suddenly.

“Wu-what???” He stammered.

Trying to shake off your sleepy arousal...slurring. “Did...YOU jus’ touch...Mah face?”

“WHY are YOU still in my bunk?”

The dream-feeling melting away...your brain having to process the waking world...

“...because...your nightmares... I’m the dumbass...who makes sure you sleep.”

Silence. Crosshair studying your face.

“You’re welcome.”

“Well, I’m NOT having one NOW.”

“Ships cold during the night. Ain’t going nowhere.” You rolled over, giving him your back. Maybe...you could pick that dream back up?

“Fine. You can stay if YOU stop moaning Hunter’s name when you spoon ME!”

You rolled back over shocked.

“Yes, you did.”

“What else did I say...or do?”

Crosshair grinned like he knew too much and rolled over without answering.

Weeks passed as you and Crosshair bickered your way slowly through the galaxy. The Empire tamped down tightly on most of the planets in the system. The Outer Rim while wildly dangerous, seemed mostly untouched and safest.

You both did side jobs to keep yourselves fed while trying comm channels and leaving messages with close contacts about the rest of The Batch’s whereabouts.

Everything seemed to lead to a dead end. Like they just disappeared.

In your heart of hearts, you knew Hunter would NEVER stop looking for you both...even if Cross had his doubts.

The open-air market on some back water Outer Rim moon provided a distraction. The textile stand caught your eye. Beautiful scarves...you picked up a jet black one with fine silver metallic strands running through it.

"Good choice. It compliments your hair." The elderly shop keep stepped from behind a long quilt hanging behind the counter.

"Marv! Are you flirting again?" An older woman approached clearly teasing her husband.

"Now why would I do that when I have you, my sweet Meiloorun? Besides, here's their partner now."

Cross sauntered up to the counter, amused at the comment.

"Hello honey" He teased.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his "greeting." "Toothpick, what do you think of this scarf?"

"Hmm, not really my style." Cross reached down to pull another scarf from under the pile. "Now this one..."

It was rusty red with fine intermittent broken off-white stripes dispersed through it. Crosshair draped it around his neck. "What do you think?"

The blood drained from your face.

"No..." You dropped the scarf and hurried away from the stand.

Cross caught up to you a few moments later...still wearing that damned scarf.

“Soup!”

You kept walking, angry...and hurt.

"Care to explain?"

Stopping and grabbing the fabric in your fist. "That's HIS scarf...NOT YOURS!

Cross softened. Not a trace of snark on his face. "You WERE in love with Hunter."

"We are STILL in a relationship, Crosshair! Just because Hunter and I are apart doesn't mean that ended."

Crosshair stared into your eyes with such an intensity...it was difficult to keep eye contact.

"So...I complicate those feelings." It wasn't a question. He didn't need to ask.

You noticed his eyes changed from brown to grey in this perfect light. The light of the sun starting to set on this backwater moon. Almost the same color as his brother's eyes.

You sighed deeply, letting go of the scarf. Your hand dropping to rest, open palmed on Crosshair's chest.

He stepped closer, placing his warm hand over yours.

“We’ll find them.”

“How? We’ve been looking...”

He squeezed your hand. “Marv and Mel...they’re a front for The Rebellion. Gathering intel and recruiting volunteers to fight the Empire.”

You looked up at Crosshair with renewed hope.

“They know where we can find Rex. He’ll be able to help us.”

You nodded. So many thoughts going through your head.

Cross took the scarf off and slid it over your head, to rest around your shoulders.

“C’mon Soup, there’s a place around here with those Space Cakes you like. My treat.”

He led the way hugging you closely.

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

To read Part 2:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/744276448825769984/bring-me-to-my-knees-part-2?source=share

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orcasoul · 7 days

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Din Djarin Headcanons

Din Watching you with Grogu

Din has never felt this way before. It's new, it's intense and it's terrifying. How he managed for years in his solitary existence is unfathomable to him now. Grogu entering his life had changed everything. The adorable green gremlin had managed to burrow himself into Din's guarded heart, fanning the flames of warmth that still lurked in there.

In no time at all that warmth had spread to every molecule of Din's being and had turned into love. Love, such a foreign, almost elusive concept, considering the last time Din had felt love was towards his parents. But, yes, love. He loves his son with a passion, a deep rooted well of devotion and affection.

He didn't think it was possible for his heart to expand any further, yet, here he is, watching with rapt enchantment as you cradle and sing to his sleepy son, and all the while Din feels his chest bloom with an incredible warmth that could cause him to spontaneously combust. You are beautiful, without even trying to be!

From the moment Din met you for an unofficial 'interview' in that dusty cantina, he'd felt a strange pull to you. It was a combination of things, really; Your obvious, natural beauty eclipsed the entire room, sure, but your instant rapport and maternal tenderness towards his foundling and your genuine warmth in general, had opened a never before explored region within Din's heart and he knew then and there, he had to offer you a position as Grogu's nanny.

Your melodic voice carries through the hull of the Razor Crest creating an atmosphere of peace and tranquillity, and a sense of home. The Razor Crest has always been just a ship to Din. Somewhere to stay warm, somewhere to eat and sleep and something to get him from A to B. But now with you and Grogu here it's home.

Din could watch you two forever, the blaster pistol in his hand now shining from being over polished. Stars! How he loves you. He didn't realise this kind of love existed, that there can be different kinds of love. You have unknowingly become the very beat of his heart, the air in his lungs, a soothing calm for the chaos that is his life.

For months he's wanted to tell you how he feels, but whenever the opportunity presented itself, he lost his nerve. He's never been a coward in his entire life, until now and he hates that. A normally fearless Mandalorian, who strikes dread and alarm into most people, mentally and emotionally undone, reduced to a nervous boy. This is the effect you have on him. His heart is in your hands. Boy, he never saw that coming.

Grogu finally settles and falls asleep, snoring softly as you lay him in his hammock, and kiss his wrinkled forehead. Closing the door of the sleeping bunk behind you, you turn to face Din, pressing a finger to your lips, followed by a "Shhh...," but also a soft smile and a 'look' that gives him hope. Din hopes he isn't just imagining it, but lately, he suspects you may have feelings for him too. In fact he's becoming more and more certain of it with each passing day.

He continues to clean his blaster (even though it's spotless by now), watching as you disappear into the fresher, as is your nightly routine; Put the baby down, shower and join Din in the cockpit where, over time, you've managed to pull enough conversations out of him that now he enjoys these moments of easy exchange between you both.

He's made his mind up. He will no longer be a coward. Tonight when you join him, he will confess everything to you. He will bare his heart and soul to the woman who has fundamentally changed him on every level, who has brought him to recognise this powerful, all encompassing love. Tonight he prays that his clan of two will become a clan of three.

#pedro pascal #din x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #din djarin x female reader #din djarin #the mandolarian #mando

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heyhilana · 7 months

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Let Me Please You (Din Djarin)

Summary: A couple of weeks after your night with Din, you're feeling a little needy as you want to see if he's willing to have another lesson with you. But a confession leads to more tangling in the sheets and a new label to your partnership that you didn't see coming.

A/N: Hi! This is part two of Take it Slow since I loved how that turned out, and I couldn't leave it alone. I had fun writing this since this is a new take on Din as I've always envisioned him to be more dominant, and this is a take on a submissive din without it going too far for his first time. But nevertheless, this has been super fun to work on, and I hope you enjoy 💙

Pairing: helmetless!Din x !f reader (Reader is a little dominant but not overbearing).

Warnings: Choking, oral (f receiving), reader and Din switch here and there, Din also bares it all since he's in love so we get helmetless Din <3! but all in all, Din is in for the ride of his life and these lovebirds get their shit together LMAO

Word Count: 3.8K (look so much shorter omg)

Part one | Masterlist

“Din, where’s my datapad?” You were trying to do a quick inventory before you took off from Navarro, knowing that the next bounty was attempting to flee as fast as possible, as everyone wanted a piece of the high number of credits at stake.

“The last I saw it, it was in your cot.” Din called out as he was polishing his blaster, sitting on one of the boxes with his legs spread apart. You took a deep breath, seeing that same position that he was in back when you were visiting Boba and Fennec and when things in your arrangement together took a turn.

Although it had been two weeks, three days, and two hours since that passed, not that you were tracking it, of course, you weren’t sure what you guys were doing. Din cuddled with you that night before he turned over to sleep. He was sweet and even more attentive to you these past few days, striking up conversations that would usually fall on deaf ears as he was so focused on the job. But there was never a point where you guys brought that up. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk about it. Hell, it was all that crossed your mind hourly because you wanted to know if there would be more or if this would be a thing of the past. But you didn’t want to share your curious thoughts if things would go awry, that maybe it would be too much to say, and he was not ready to talk about it. So you opted to avert your eyes and go to your cot, seeing that the datapad was where he said it was.

“It was here, Din. Thank you.” You were logging your credentials in and walking back over to the storage area to continue your inventory.

“Anytime, cyari'ka.” That low voice coming from the modulator made your knees buckle slightly. You hadn’t heard that since that night, and hearing it in passing talks would surely make your brain mush. You tapped away with logging the numbers in, noting that when you arrived at your destination, you would have to get more supplies after the bounty was caught. Din finished polishing his blaster and got up to walk over to you.

“Y/N, we need to talk.” His voice rang through your ears, a slight lump in your throat growing as he stood over you, his stature giving you reason to lust over him.

“About that night?” You put the datapad down, giving him your full attention.

“Yes. I enjoyed it, but-“ You shushed Din before he could continue, letting your fears get the best of you.

“We can put it in the past if you want. It won’t interfere with our partnership and we can go back to the way we were.” You were firm, but the waver in your voice at the end was undeniable.

“No, that’s not what I want. I enjoy…this,” Din used his hand to gesture between himself and you. “I enjoy talking to you, spending time, getting to know you better. I don’t want to lose that. A-And I want to do it again. It’s been all I’ve been able to focus on since it happened, but only if you’re willing. I can put this in the past if you want to.” There was something about how his head bowed down to you, a simple gesture yet igniting a flame that had been burning in the pit of your stomach since that night. That flame gave you the courage to grab his hands and lead you to your cot, your core beginning to ache with desire.

“I’ve been wanting to do that again with you since it ended the first time, but I wanted it to be on your time.” You let go of his hands and sat down on the cot, moving back so that you could give him some room.

“Please. I need that…I need you.” He paused for a minute, the little confession sitting on the tip of his tongue, and once it was out in the air, your eyes widened. The man of few words expressed his need, his need of you, when before you never believed this would happen. But when you finally processed it and saw that he was getting into the cot with you, you began to spread your legs, moving his way up so that he was face to face with you, the t-visor giving you a slight glimmer of his cedar eyes that you enjoyed having on you.

“Such a good boy. Do you want to turn off the lights?” You were removing his armor as he had taught you how to do if he was injured, just getting the shoulder pads off as his hands moved up to his helmet.

“No. I want you to watch me and I need to watch you.” He was feverish now, the hiss from him taking off his helmet sending shivers down to your core. And once he was all in your gaze, tousled hair, pleading eyes, the way his plump lips were so close to yours now, and most of all, the way his hands were trailing down to take off the rest of his armor, meaning that you could touch, graze, learn all the pressure points that could make him a whimpering mess for you, you were a goner.

“You want to be praised then, don’t you?” Your voice was dropping to one that commanded more attention as you unbuttoned your shirt, the exposed skin making his breath hitch as he pulled off his chest plate. “You need to be told how much of a good boy you are, how you can make me cum so long as you don’t stop. It’s one thing to get praised out there, but here, I think that’s how I’ll get to you.” You pulled off your shirt and threw it outside the cot just as he carefully placed his armor outside.

“What are you doing to me?” He reached his way back to you, lips gently grazing yours. You didn’t say anything, just kissing him finally, hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him close. He moaned into the kiss, his hands going around your waist to draw you in. You were biting his lip, and his hands went up your back to unclasp your upper garment. He successfully unclasped it, and you pulled away from him to free your arms from the garment, much to his adoration as he was eyeing you. You began kissing again as the garment was discarded somewhere else, and he started pulling at your pants.

“Need these off you,” Din mumbled against your lips. You lifted your hips for him to take them off you, and by his haste and roughness with taking off both your pants and undergarments, you knew Din was no longer nervous about doing this with you.

Din knew he didn’t want to relinquish his desire for you. Inexperienced or not, once was not enough with you. There had to be more, as his hand was insufficient in quelling his newfound thoughts of you after the night you shared. When he would rub his thumb over the tip, he would think about how it would feel to swipe your tongue around it. The tight fist he would make would send his mind into a frenzy about how tight you had to be, a perfect fit. How he would explode on his lower belly would not be enough as he wanted to line your walls with his thick ropes of cum. Din needed you to replace his hand with your hand, mouth, and dripping pussy. He needed to find himself buried deep into your core while you milked him dry. Nothing would satisfy his hunger for you until he had you exactly where you were right now.

The cold air from the ship hit your core, but you fought against the urge to close up by spreading your legs apart. You were bare before him, and Din took his pants and undergarments off just as fast as he took off yours, earning a smile from you as you enjoyed seeing how turned on he was.

“There’s no rush. I’m all yours.” You reminded him, yet your stomach sank when you realized what you said at the end. You worried it was too much, too forward for only the second time you shared with him. But it didn’t faze Din at all. Instead, he kissed you again with more passion, shushing all your worries in a mere moment. Din moved away from your lips to your jaw, kissing your line until he reached the juncture of your jaw and neck, kissing down from there until he elicited a sharp gasp from you.

“Seems like I found your sweet spot.” He teased before sucking on your sweet spot.

“Shut up.” You moved your hands up to his hair, tugging at the loose curls at the nape of his neck. He bit your neck in response, which was a new sensation as you didn’t think a love bite would feel good.

Din lifted his head to look at you. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. It was new, but I liked it a lot, actually.” You admitted bashfully.

“Yeah? So I can kiss, suck, and bite all over your body then?” He asked, lowering his head again to kiss your collarbone.

“Yes,” You breathed out.

“Because you’re all mine.”

Din was not possessive with anything or anyone in the past, but knowing that he could mark you because it made you feel good turned him on more than he could admit to himself or you. It was a primal instinct that was not unlocked until you came along, finding himself longing to be around you as much as possible, to tangle himself in the cot with you. His mind was wired onto you, allowing himself to explore with you when he wouldn’t dare think about doing this with you before that night. But now, his cock was dripping with precum as he saw how pretty your skin looked with hickeys and love bites, the way your nipples were prominent, your stretch marks and scars that told stories that made you who you are, your hips dips and thighs that he wanted to touch, and, most importantly, your sweet core that was between your thighs that Din would not be able to get enough of once he was inside you.

You parted your thighs for him to see your core, and Din’s eyes darkened when he saw what all his kissing, licking, and biting did to you. Your folds glistened with how wet you were, prompting Din to take a finger and slip it between them, gathering as much as he could of your wetness. You rolled your hips when his fingertip brushed against your clit, making you throb when he took his finger to his lips to taste you. You could see how your wetness coated the top of his finger, reminiscent of how your fingers looked when you thought of him.

“I love the way you taste.” He said as he pulled his finger away from his lips and put it between your folds again. You moved your hand down to glide his finger up to your clit, moving it to rub circles on your spot. He watched, seeing what you wanted from him before taking over, allowing you to melt into his touch.

“Just like that, baby. You’re doing so good for me.” Your head moved back onto the cot as Din rubbed your clit faster.

“You’re so wet, cyar'ika. Gar're bid mesh'la guuror ibic.” Din muttered the last part to himself as he did think you were beautiful like this and in every way he saw you. A man with few words yet stayed keen on observing the world around him, you encompassed all his thoughts. From how you fought valiantly in battle, your relaxed state on the ship, to how you laid before him, his observations of you led to where you two were now, with Din wanting to observe, learn, care, and tend to you as he was now.

“D-Din, I need you to try something.” You moved your head up to look at him.

“What is it?”

“I want you to watch me finger myself and then finger me.”

Din nodded, and you laid your head back down, one hand moving south to your folds and your other hand moving north to touch your breast. You dipped your fingers between your folds and teased your hole, gathering your slick to push in comfortably. You could feel his eyes on you, and Din stripped as bare as you were as the clothes made him too hot. Once bare, he instinctively grabbed his dick to stroke while he watched you. You pushed your fingers in, inhaling a sharp breath while Din spat on the tip of his dick. As he rubbed the tip to tease himself, you pumped your fingers in and out, curling just enough to hit your sweet spot and letting out a moan deep in your belly.

“Feels good, mesh’la? Feels good to touch yourself and have me watch, knowing that I’m stroking to you.” Din leaned back, stroking faster, squeezing the tip to make him hiss while he thought about how you would squeeze around him.

“Yes, it does! I need you to do this to me, please.” You couldn’t help but switch between wanting to dominate him and submit to him, knowing that once he learned your body, it would be nothing short of you being a mess for him, but it also turned you on to know that you could take control and make him beg for you.

“Let me, baby. Please let me do it.”

And there it was. The begging. Begging to touch you, feel you, submit to you. Din unlocked your deepest desires that you didn’t want to admit yourself, but they came out in the forefront when you heard the slightest whimper or begging from him. It was impossible to ignore, and your need to lean into it beginning to grow stronger.

“You wanna replace my fingers with yours? Think you can make me cum from fingering me now?” You teased, pulling your fingers out to bring them to your lips.

“I know I will.” Din’s confidence was growing, but you knew you had him right where you wanted him when you sucked on your soaked fingers, twirling your tongue around them to tease him. Din groaned, desperately wanting to know what it felt like to have your lips and tongue around the tip, shaft, and base. Those thoughts forced him to stop stroking as he almost came just as you pulled your fingers out.

“Since you’re so sure of it,” You began, watching him lean down to put his face between your legs, two fingers pressed against your hole. “Make me cum right now.”

Din didn’t waste any time after you said those words, pushing his fingers in and licking a strip up the slit. By the first taste, he was hooked, gathering as much as he could of your wetness because you were sweet on his tongue. He got lost in your taste as he pumped his fingers slowly, feeling how his fingers were stretching you out. It felt amazing, but your hand gripped his hair to tug, gathering his attention.

“I need you to suck on my clit, baby.” You asked.

Din was quick to do so, and in turn, you rolled your hips as it sent sensations all through your body. Din never pulled away the more you fucked his face, letting his scuff get drenched because he wanted the constant reminder of what you both shared on his face, lips, hands and all over his throbbing cock.

But he couldn��t help but tease you for what you said earlier, prompting him to lift his head for a moment. “Still don’t think I can make you cum?”

“N-no, I know you can.” You admitted, and that was all he needed to give you his all, to show you that he would stop at nothing to make you cum harder than before, repeatedly so. Din hummed as he knew he was proving himself to you, but he didn’t realize how much that would affect you when your legs began to shake. The fingering, sucking, licking, and now humming proved to be an insurmountable pleasure that left you teetering over the edge.

“D-Din, I’m really close.” You eked out, and before he could respond, you were coming undone before him. It was all too fast, surprising you yet bringing you eternal bliss as he fingered you through it. Din loved how your walls fluttered around him as if you were trying to keep them inside you so you could stay so full. And full you felt along with the way you felt you were floating on air, letting you stall your movements as you came down slowly.

Din waited until your breathing wasn’t as labored to pull his fingers out, bringing them to his lips to taste. He sucked them clean, savoring everything as your cum was just as good as your wetness, if not better. But in Din’s mind, everything seemed to be better than the last as he explored more with you.

“You came back down to Navarro?” Din joked, and you sat up to playfully swat his hand.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not gonna let me live that down?”

“Never.” Din replied, the smirk planted on his face making you shake your head.

“I’ll accept that, but I’ll give you something else that I can use against you.” You responded, and Din tilted his head.

“Like what?” He asked, and if there was ever a moment where curiosity killed the cat, it was now, as he had no clue what was in store for him.

“I’ll show you if you swap positions with me.” Your smile screamed innocence, but Din could see the playful aura in your eyes that let him know that whatever you had planned was beyond his imagination.

“And to think I thought you were as innocent as I was.” Din admitted while switching positions with you.

“Well you’re not so innocent as you claim to be, and I never said I didn’t have a few tricks up my sleeve.” You countered, and Din had nothing more to say once you straddled him, the feeling of his cock slipping in between your folds taking up all his thoughts.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” You teased, rolling your hips on his cock to make him suck in a breath.

“Should’ve known you would’ve teased me again.” Din was tensing up, not wanting to cum just from you rolling your hips.

You leaned down, your face hovering over this. “Oh, this is just the beginning.”

You leaned back up to grab his cock, positioning it right at your hole before sinking down slowly, taking your sweet time in feeling every vein, curve, and stretch that proved to be beyond your fantasies.

“Mesh’la, you feel perfect.” Din’s eyes were screwed shut, trying to hold it together until he felt himself bottom out inside you.

“You feel so much better, I promise.” You rose up again just as slowly before coming down a little faster. It was hard to not go fast right away, wanting to give him time to adjust to this new feeling without pushing him, but so far. But he proved you wrong when his hands snaked up to your hips, wanting you to move up and down faster than before.

“Please, give me more. Ni copad an be gar.”

You placed your hands on his chest, getting enough stability to start bouncing up and down on his cock faster, finally giving in to both of your desires. The curve of his cock was perfect against the way you rolled your hips every now and then, igniting newfound pleasure that prompted him to thrust up into you.

“Mhm, you’re so needy. So needy for me, and I love t-that.”

You caught yourself. That damned phrase almost slipped from your lips if you didn’t recognize what you were doing. But thankfully, Din didn’t seem to notice that, with his eyes finally opened and more focused on how your breasts bounced with each thrust.

“I need every inch of you.”

Despite the pleasure coursing through him, his seriousness was undeniable, unmistakable. It allowed you the blissful ignorance to disregard your almost slip-up. It gave you the freedom to let your deepest desires unfold right before his eyes as your hand went right for his neck, squeezing gently as you sunk down onto him again.

“Is this what you wanted? You want me to ride you and take complete control over you?” You cooed, and seeing how his eyes rolled back made you move your hips.

“Y-yes, cyar'ika, yes.” His voice quivered, drifting into whimpering territory.

“Was that a whimper?” You teased.

“N-No.” Din lied.

“Oh, that definitely was, and the one before that was one too. Which means that you’re close to cumming, aren’t you?” You tilted your head, and Din knew he couldn’t run from his impending orgasm for much more. But Din couldn’t speak as his sounds were whimpers and grunts as he lost control the more you rode him.

“That’s not good enough, baby. Answer me.” You squeezed again along with fluttering around his cock, the mix of pleasure making his thrusts less precise.

“Y-yes, I’m close.” Din answered. You moved your hand away from his throat to keep your balance.

“Good boy,” You leaned down to kiss him briefly before lifting up to go near his ear. “Now cum inside me, Din. Show me how badly you want to make me yours.”

Din thrusted one last time before he came. His grip on your hips became a vice, wanting every single drop to spill inside you. And while you wouldn’t say it out loud, you were irrevocably his long before today. The slow burn inside you burned for days, weeks, and months, even before that fruitful night and this night now. It stoked into an untamable flame for that night before suffusing into a wildfire, where you knew this was exactly where you wanted to be.

And while this was risky, with all your calculations of this uncharted area between you two being unable to decide if this was worth it to nurture and explore, there was a moment shared between you two when you lifted your head. Your head rested on his, noses touching, labored breathing, skin to skin, and there was nothing more that you wanted than to have this. It felt perfect, feeling like home.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

Din broke the silence with a phrase that, although you couldn’t understand, you knew what he meant. It transcended the language barrier; you knew why he said it in Mando’a. It felt personal, real. You felt the courage rise in you as baring your heart on your sleeve didn’t seem as fearful as before.

“I love you too.”

Translations

Cyar'ika - Darling, sweetheart

Mesh’la - Beautiful

Gar're bid mesh'la guuror ibic - You’re so pretty like this

Ni copad an be gar - I want all of you

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you

#pedro pascal #pedropascal #lanawrites #din x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando #first time #mandalorian smut #the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin smut

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lizartgurl · 1 year

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Happy Bad Batch Eve! Have Cadet Hunter painting the skull decal on his bunk because it's my treasured Headcanon ^_^~❤️

Two more treasured details--the tin of blaster polish he's using to decorate, and the bruise over his eye. That comes from a headcanon by morgorita_prime on tiktok where the blood vessels above Hunter's eye burst during the tests on his senses and that eventually led to him getting his tattoo ❤️

#if you saw me post this earlier no you didn't #lizart #my art #clipstudiopaint #sergeant hunter #tbb hunter #the bad batch hunter #hunter bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch cadets

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battlekilt · 6 months

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An inescapable tragedy... of surviving...

Rex's plot armor ain't all that it's cracked up to be. But he can't get out of it, any more than Fives and Fox could get out of their fate.

Was responding to a comment on my post about the duality of Fives and Fox's fate, written a little over a year ago, and decided to share my response. It grew as I polished it up.

"Long, long ago, in a galaxy far far away..."

We all knew how this would end. We knew that Fives would end in tragedy because had it not, then the tragedy of Order 66 would not happen.

Narratively, Fox functions as Rex's foil, which only further compounds the tragedy of Fives's death because it almost makes Rex a Hamlet-like character.

See, the most pivotal moments we've seen Rex develop led to this moment.

His struggle to question authority were answered when he questioned his orders to drop the issue of the ship, but also what Order 66 told him: The Jedi are traitors—execute them all.

His indecision to act on his independent instincts. A lesson we saw him go through with on Umbara, which Fives had been the opposite end of the spectrum Dogma; the two foils against Rex t0 gauge who he had been, and who he would become.

Both of those lessons, of authority and action through conviction, were seen evolving when didn't back down from Anakin or Cody's skepticism—He had good reason to believe Echo was alive, and he was determined to see that theory through.

Rex's inaction over Fives was mostly due to him not understanding what was happening enough to be able to do anything at all, but also his limited access to do anything, even if knew what to do.

But, it triggered a series of events that was sprung into motion. And that started with the other side of his coin becoming the unwilling executor of such an important brother. This was it, this was the final lesson we see him go through about indecision and skepticism.

The moment of Fives's death sealed the fates of both Rex and Fox.

Fives's death and its circumstances made Rex aware enough of the chip to file his formal complaint—the log he told Ahsoka to find, with the eerie choice of words, "Find Fives. Find him."

When she did so, she learned the secret, and decided she could not let her friend die. It had also given Rex the cognition to fight the chip, if only for a few scant seconds.

Few would ever be spared this tragic fate. We as the audience watch Fives's discovery and fool ourselves that maybe, maybe, what happened long, long ago, might be changed. However, we also know that it would never be changed. His discovery and death did not stop the events of Order 66, but it did end up being what spared Ahsoka, and in doing so, it saved Rex's fate from the same fate all the other Clones suffered.

Had Fives not died, Ahsoka would not be alive, and Rex might have shared her fate—either in the same grisly demise as the rest of the 332nd, or doomed to an Imperial life.

Lives saved, undoubtedly.

The same could not be said for Fox, who never had any choice in whether he took that shot or not; his duty wouldn't let him, and the narrative is much crueler.

Fives's death also made Anakin, who certainly did not carry Rex's same military rationale into his next life, as Lord Vader, bear a grudge set ablaze while he survived solely on hatred in his heart. Unable to act on the few injustices he felt he had inflicted on him, Vader made right what happened to Fives, and satisfied that hatred within... with Fox's death.

Oh, those final sounds. Fives died with the loud crack of a blaster bolt. Fox died with the simple, soft crack of his neck.

However, Rex lived, and I think... both Fives and Fox would see the value in that. Not that Rex was wholly spared.

Remember what Cody had said? Which, in hindsight, seemed another lessons in Rex's life for him to carry on with. It was also... another foreshadow.

Cody wasn't wrong. Rex's plot armor only prolonged the hardest thing.

So many had not been spared this fate. However, neither had Rex. He had the worst of it, if we are being honest. Ask Obi-Wan, after all.

What could possibly so hard about being this tragic fate?

Being a survivor.

#commander fox #captain rex #arc trooper fives #darth vader #anakin skywalker #kilt's meta #kilt's headcanons #kilt's clonely meta #kilt's clonely headcanons #kilt's writing

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rare-clone-fic-exchange · 5 months

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Begin Again (Sergeant Soot x Reader)

Gifting to: Kassy aka @moonlightwarriorqueen <3

Summary: Reader is a youngling-care professional who cares very deeply about their little ones and isn’t afraid to protect them. Sgt. Soot makes a mistake, but he gets a chance to make it right.

Pairing: GN!reader x Sergeant Soot

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: n/a

Author’s Note: Sergeant Soot is a trooper stationed with Commander Grey’s Battalion, assigned to Jedi Generals Depa Billaba and Caleb Dume. He appears in the Kanan comic series! He has one or two lines, so I basically reverse-engineered him into an OC based on his sense of humour, matter-of-factness, and observational skills. Reader is based on a special friend who definitely shares some (protectiveness, fierceness, caring heart), but not all (lack of awareness about clone culture and lives) of the same qualities!

Read while listening to: Someone New by Hozier

~ Sergeant Soot's POV ~

A cacophony of sharp and squealing giggles pierced through the train as the doors slid open.

Through the HUD of his bucket, Soot — ever the alert sergeant — found himself assessing the source: four boisterous younglings of various species, with a humanoid chaperone in tow boarding the car.

“You’re a bantha bum!” taunted the Nautolan youngling to the humanoid youngling.

“Well, y-you’re a hairy bantha bum!” a small Twi’lek retorted.

“Oh yeah?! You’re all the hairiest bantha bums!” interjected the Rodian youngling.

“Shhh! Come, all of you, hush and sit!” Their chaperone insisted as they herded them into the car. They didn’t resemble the humanoid child, Soot thought. They also wore modest, but polished robes. Not their parent, but perhaps not a teacher either.

Breathless laughter and shrieks persisted as the group settled on seats across from where Soot and Big-Mouth stood. Both in full kit, fresh into their 48 hours of shore leave on Coruscant, Soot nudged a sharp elbow at his brother.

“Get a load of this,” Soot whispered.

Big-Mouth responded with an amused huff, “Aiwha-bait would never stand for it, eh?”

“Righto, vod.” The brothers chuckled softly amongst themselves.

Soot wondered at the tenacity of a person who could wrangle such a chaotic crew. He reminisced on exasperated trainers, watchful long-necks, and an “adolescence” (if you could call it that) as a very cautious cadet. As genetically-enhanced assets for the Republic, Soot knew there were different developmental expectations for him and his brothers, but it never seemed quite so clear until a moment like this.

The Nautolan whispered in the ear of the Rodian beside them, both giggling until their colourful cheeks flushed deeper with pigment. The two of them seemed to be conspiring, Soot estimated.

“Hey! Mister!” The Rodian hollered.

“Knapp…” The chaperone started.

“Where’s your blasters?!” The Nautolan piped up.

“Eysu!” The chaperone scolded, “Inside voice, please! And let’s all leave the soldiers alone.”

Soot chuckled, then rotated to expose the hip holster where his pistol rested. “You mean, this?”

“Wizard!” said Knapp and Eysu, simultaneously.

The chaperone’s worried brow deepened. “Sir, I would appreciate if you didn’t display weapons to my younglings. They are in my charge.”

Big-Mouth chimed in, “It’s a big and dangerous city. All the more reason to know how to protect yourself, I say.”

“I doubt my employers would agree with that sentiment.” The chaperone insisted.

“Sorry ’bout that,” Soot apologized. His remorse didn’t seem to appease them. The dull hum of the train only grew louder as the younglings quieted in response to the displeasure of their chaperone.

The chaperone dropped their glance, attending towards the younglings. Soot straightened up, turning the view of his helmet away. Undetectably, Soot continued to watch them from behind the tint of his visor.

Should I say something more?

“Alright everyone, this is where we get off.” The chaperone prepared the younglings to depart. With a curt nod to the two clones, they and the others exited the car.

Ah, kriff.

~ Reader's POV ~

“Come on, please!”

“Being around more clones is the last thing I need after the day I had.” you protested.

“Don’t be a scughole, they may look the same, but they do have different personalities y’know.”

After your unfortunate run-in earlier that day on the train, your younglings had continued to pester you with endless questions about soldiers, blasters, and what the second clone had meant by Coruscant being “dangerous.” It took every shred of your trained patience to maintain a pleasant demeanour until their parents or parents’ aides retrieved them. And now Ni’la was insistent on bringing you to the single most clone-populated establishment in the upper levels.

“I know that, Ni.” You rolled your eyes with disdain, “They’re different, sure, but I haven’t come across one yet who’s taken more interest in me than the size of their blaster or a retelling of their latest mission.”

“Maybeee you just haven’t met the right one yet!” Ni’la sassed. She was dressed in her best and had convinced you to get ready too — without telling you where she planned on heading tonight. Now, the two of you were a block away from the thumping, glaring, buzzy corner where 79’s lived.

“Oh, and you have?” you asked.

“No, but I’m ready to keep looking! C’mon, it’s looking so fun tonight!” She couldn’t contain her apparent excitement, as she sped ahead towards the entrance.

------

Ni’la had gotten her wish, a few times over, as you watched her enchant several clones on the dance floor. Her blue lekku move gracefully with the rest of her body as she swayed to the beat. Fatigued by the day, you had passed on her attempts to drag you with her, choosing instead to nurse your Pink Nebula in an adjacent booth.

You watched as a fourth clone approached Ni’la, evaluating for a second before he changed his trajectory and started heading towards you.

Oh great, you thought, here we go again.

Your trusted stone-faced “leave me the kriff alone” expression did little to deter the man. He was half-armoured like most of his brothers in the bar, but his dark hair was buzzed, short and much closer to the scalp than the typical cut many clones had.

With a beer in his hand, he strode up to the edge of your table.

Using his free hand to rub his buzzed head bashfully, he motioned with the beer towards Ni’la and his brothers on the dance floor. “Your friend’s got quite the fan club.”

“How’d you know she’s my friend?”

“You’re sitting alone, watching but not looking very interested in the pretty twi’lek or the guys she’s with, lookin’ less than interested in anyone and anything else here either.”

You gave a nod of approval for his skills of deduction.

“So why aren’t you up there with her?”

“Been a long day,” you started, taking another long sip.

“Care to enlighten me?” He motioned to the empty space in the booth beside you.

You did the math quickly: Ni’la would probably be occupied by one or more of his lucky brothers for the rest of the evening. Being alone was good and fine, but this was a rare occasion where your conversation partner seemed genuinely interested in you. So, why not?

“Just work. An extra… complicated day, I guess.”

He slid into the empty seat next to you. “What d’you do?”

You hesitated, considering that you didn’t need to revert to your usual level of discretion, seeing as he likely understood the value of informational sensitivity.

“I provide care for the younglings of Senate representatives.” You held your breath, never having revealed the true extent of your employment in such a casual setting before.

“Do you like it?”

You continued, both impressed and appreciative of his genuine curiosity: “Parts of it. I love my little ones; I love getting to help them learn and play and become who they want to be.”

“But…?” He held your gaze with his warm and assuring brown eyes.

“But being employed by the Galactic Senate has its complications. I’m sure you can relate.”

He nodded, pausing for a moment. This was usually about the time when soldiers you had met started revelling in their tales of glory. That he hadn’t taken the invitation to start talking about himself made him seem different; he was giving thought to your words, your life.

“How do you deal with that?”

“It’s been hard, and I’ve had to take my time. But when the frustrating bits of politics or real life trickles in, I try to keep my focus on the younglings and draw from how joyful and resilient they are. You know how they can be.” You gestured vaguely.

His face scrunched a bit at that.

“Honestly… We clones have a pretty minor frame of reference.”

“Oh?”

“As soldiers, we have an… interesting upbringing, to put it lightly.”

You’d never given much consideration to the intricacies of clones’ lives before their service.

“But you’ve never interacted with younglings in any capacity?” you asked.

“My battalion’s Jedi general is quite young, but he’s also probably not what you would consider a regular youngling,” he joked.

“No, I wouldn’t,” you huffed.

He smiled, pausing and fiddling with the bottle in his hand.

“So, youngling expert… What would you say to a real clueless dolt who shows off weapons to younglings?” he looked at you expectantly.

Your eyes widened as your brain processed the connection. Him. He was the same clone from the train. You gaped at him for just a moment more.

“… I would say that you’re very lucky that the younglings had such a short train journey. Their chaperone can get pretty nasty when they’re in protective mode.”

“Guess I’m also lucky a certain twi’lek decided to bring their chaperone to the clone bar tonight so I can properly apologize.” He rubbed his head again, “I’m sorry for that.”

“I appreciate it,” you replied, finding it hard to resist a small smile.

“Really, I am. Didn’t realize what a headache it would be for you.”

“It’s over now.” You shrugged, hands toying with your now-empty glass. “And now I know you really didn’t know better.”

“Well, alright then.” His brown eyes continued to hold contact with yours, his attention focused as if you were the single most important thing in the galaxy. You found yourself almost paralyzed by the tenderness promised by his gaze.

Ni’la’s musical giggles broke through the concentration of the moment. It had been a good night out for everyone, apparently. When she realized she had your attention again, she motioned to signal she’d be leaving with her chosen soldier. Her giggle climbed an octave, if possible, as the man swept her up bridal-style and headed out.

The pair of you at the booth scoffed in unison, humoured by your lively friends.

“Are you hungry at all?” he asked. “Wanna get out of here and grab something to eat?”

“As long as you keep that blaster holstered.” You flashed him a sly smile.

He chuckled, “Oh, I’ve definitely learned my lesson.”

#rare clone fic exchange #rare clone fic submission #reader insert #x reader #clone wars fanfiction #clone wars #sergeant soot x reader #clone sergeant soot #clone sergeant soot x reader

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