#dark!din djarin

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika

Dark!Din Djarin x Jedi!Female Reader

Warnings: corruption arc, murder, death of minor character (i don't wanna spoil it but I wanna make sure no one is caught off guard. it's axe woves), possessive behavior, loss and anxiety, light smut, mentions of being intimate

Word Count: 7,842

Summary: Din Djarin is a man who lost everything. His home, his son, his Creed. But at the end of the day, he still had you. He still had you, and he was determined to keep you.

[a/n: if dark fics aren't your forte, don't worry this isn't super dark. well, not as dark as i originally planned to go. more psychological horror than physical]

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"i denied death for you. and i'd die for you again. kill for you. i'd tear the stars down from the heavens to fashion you a crown. you are my heart. my queen. i'd do anything and everything you ask me."

-Jay Kristoff

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Looking back, you had no chance of not falling in love with Din Djarin. Even despite having plenty of reasons not to. You were on the run from the Empire, trying to keep a padawan safe from them. He was hired to collect said padawan as a bounty. He was a Mandalorian. You were a Jedi. Needless to say, the odds had been stacked against you both, but falling for him was the simplest thing in all the worlds.

You had a lot of reason not to, sure, but you also had no chance in avoiding it. Not with the way he put you and Grogu above everything else⏤ even himself. Not with the way he balanced trusting you to hold your own in a fight versus protecting you when you were overwhelmed. Not with the way his hand would softly brush against you as if he wanted so badly to touch you but thought himself unworthy. Not with the way his hoarse voice whispered your name in the softest concern and care.

Never before had you put any belief in the concept of soulmates, it seemed silly, but after meeting Din you weren’t so sure. The two of you seemed made to fit one another. Complement. Make the other stronger, better. The way you both understood one another, the care and love that came so easily… It was as if you loved him in another life. Like the two of you were destined to find one another in every lifetime. Made of the same stardust and shaped by the galaxy itself.

You loved Din Djarin. You loved him so damn much, and it made watching him crumble that much harder.

“Din.” You mumbled. Boba had swooped back to pick the lot of you up after the successful rescue mission. Though calling it successful seemed…bittersweet. Grogu was safe, but Grogu was gone. You wandered closer to where Din sat in a chair. He had isolated himself the moment you all boarded the ship. He was slumped over, elbows on his knees, and head hanging down. You knelt down by his side and squeezed his arm. “Hey. I wanted to check on you.” Din nodded, but stayed silent. His helmet stayed facing down, away from you, and it broke your heart to see him so devastated. “Tell me what you need, baby. I can stay or I can give you some space.”

Again, Din did not respond, but he turned his arm just enough to grasp you by the hand. You gave it a slight squeeze and just stayed there. For the rest of the flight neither of you moved. You knew Din felt like he couldn't complain. Grogu was safe with Skywalker, set to train and harness his gifts. Softly, you reassured him that whatever he was feeling was alright. He stayed silent.

Boba and Fennec’s goal was to reach Tatooine so you and Din tagged along. It wasn’t far. You all got there in a matter of hours and when you parted ways, Boba encouraged you or Din to call him if anything was ever needed. It didn’t take long for you to get a room at an inn. 

That night in bed you held Din close. The room had been darkened so even if you did open your eyes all you could see was his silhouette. He loved you with soft touches and thankful whispers, and when the both of you were spent and exhausted Din collapsed into you. Typically, he liked being the big spoon. Din loved wrapping his body around yours, all encompassing, as if he needed to protect you even in sleep. However, tonight, Din clung to your side⏤ an arm draped over your waist as he laid his head on your bare chest. You held him close, raking a hand through his hair tenderly.

The room was filled with quiet breaths, and when Din spoke his voice was so hushed that you nearly missed it.

“Don’t leave me, cyar'ika.” He seemed to beg. “I can’t lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You said firmly. Holding onto him tighter. You continued to whisper promises of staying by his side long after he fell asleep.

Din wanted to find the covert. That was what he told you he needed. You had no qualms with that. You wanted to do whatever you had to in order to help him find some semblance of normal. Coruscant was not one of your favorite places in the galaxy, but you’d walk through hell as long as Din was by your side. As you followed him, his eyes tracking signs and clues you couldn’t see, your own gaze continued to drift to the saber hanging from Din’s belt. His newest acquisition.

Ages ago, when it had been time to build your own lightsaber, the kyber crystal you chose had really chosen you. Everybody had certain strengths, even within the Force, and yours was reading energies. Your kyber crystal seemed to sing to you. The energy it gave was warmth. It was protective. It was loyal. Building your lightsaber had been a time honored tradition you treasured. Having it hang from your hip was something you did not take lightly. It gave you strength.

The energy coming from the darksaber felt…wrong. It was hard to put into words. It was muted to you, as if trying to hide, but still the darksaber seemed to weep a negative energy into the air itself. You didn’t like it, but you had no significant reasoning why other than ‘it feels bad’.

When the two of you reached the covert, Din was adamant about you coming in with him. Even when you told him you thought it was a bad idea, he still tangled his hand in yours and dragged you in. Just as you thought the other two Mandalorians there were unhappy with seeing you. In part because of the lightsaber on your hip, but more so because you were not their kind. You were not Mandalorian. Auretii. That’s what the Armorer called you. An outsider. It wasn’t inaccurate. 

The interaction started bad and only got worse.

Paz Vizsla challenged Din for the darksaber, a man you knew that Din considered to be a brother even despite rough disagreements in the past, and watching Din use the saber sent a chill down your spine. It was too heavy in his hands, and with every swing the blade was more difficult for Din to use. You could see it in his stride. You didn’t know how to explain it⏤ it was always difficult to explain the way an energy felt to you⏤ but the saber was fighting. It was annoyed.

Din won the battle.

“Din Djarin, have you ever removed your helmet?” The silence that followed the question broke your heart. “Have you ever removed your helmet?” You felt useless watching Din endure this pain. It was the same watching Skywalker carry Grogu away. You were a witness to his suffering. “By Creed, you must vow.”

“I have.”

“Then, you are a Mandalorian no more.”

The walk back into the depths of Coruscant was silent and painful. You slipped your hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I’m here. I’m not leaving. You will not lose me. Din returned the squeeze, but the pain was radiating off him in palpable waves. A feeling washed over you and your eyes darted to Din’s hip where the saber rested. Smug. It felt smug. 

The two of you walked into the covert as Mandalorian and Jedi, but left as Apostate and Aruetti.

You had the opinion that Din never got to properly mourn the loss of the Razor Crest. With everything going on at the time, it seemed like the least of the problems you both had. However, it's loss was felt now. Even in the short time you spent with Din and Grogu, the ship had become a place of comfort. For Din, the Crest had been all he had for so long⏤ it was his home. It held all his belongings and in a singular second it was all gone.

That aching wound was constantly festering, but when the two of you were forced to ride in public ships to get from world to world you could tell it stung Din the most. That’s how you’d have to get off Coruscant, but a small victory came in the form of a message from Peli. 

“Din, you’re not gonna believe this.” You grinned as he returned from whatever errand he had to do. “Peli has a possible Razor Crest replacement. She just messaged me. If we can just get to⏤”

“No.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but Din took you by the hand and began to travel the opposite way of the small inn you were staying in. “What?”

“I found a ship. Here. Already purchased it.”

Surprise washed over you. “Wait.” You tried to get him to stop and look at you, but Din seemed like a man on a mission. “You bought it already? Without even asking me?”

“It was my credits.”

The words stung. It was so dismissive. Nothing like the way Din usually spoke to you. He always discussed big decisions with you, just as you did with him. The two of you were a team. Through and through. Din seemed to sense your displeasure and his steps faltered.

“Cyar'ika, ni ceta.” Din murmured. You recognized the apology. He turned and settled a hand on the side of your face. “I…I don’t know what came over me. I suppose I was just excited.”

“It’s…” You lifted a hand to cup the one tenderly caressing your cheek. Din had just lost his Creed. The cornerstone of his existence. Of course, he’d be short. You’d be more worried if he wasn’t showing signs of being upset. You gave him a tight lipped smile. “No, I’m sorry. Are you alright? How do you feel?” Din didn’t respond. “Baby?”

He shook his head, his voice quiet. “I’m just ready to be off world.”

“I understand.” You gave him a smile. “Show us our new home then.”

Din let out a small chuckle and you took that as a victory. He led you to a yard of ships and pointed out a black ship with burgundy accents. It was nothing special. It wasn’t the Razor Crest. However, it had enough space for the both of you.

“This is nice.” You explored the cargo hold. 

“It’ll do.” Din countered.

You jumped when you heard the ramp closing and as Din passed you to get to the cockpit, he set his hand on your lower back to take you with him. As you settled in the passenger seat, you watched as Din familiarized himself with the control panel. When the ship reached the atmosphere, you leaned forward.

“Hey, maybe we should go see Peli anyways. Say hello.” You suggested. “She can look the ship over and tell us if we need anything…” Peli would just rip you off, but she was a familiar face. Boba and Fennec were on Tatooine as well. You thought Din could use more than just you. A reminder that he had more in his life than he thought. “Din?”

“No.” Din replied. He placed in a set of coordinates and you recognized them to be Nevarro. Well, maybe that would work. Karga was there. Cara too. Last you heard, Mayfeld was kicking around the newest establishment. The ship slipped into hyperspace and Din held a hand out to you. When you took it he yanked you toward him and you fell onto his lap. “We’re needed in Nevarro. Karga.”

He said it as if the name was enough. Before you could ask for further clarification, Din was tossing his gloves aside. He hit a button that shaded the windows, dimming the room till it was nearly impossible to see then he whispered to close your eyes. It was natural for you to do just as he asked. His hands grasped at your hips, pulling you down to grind against your core, and a pair of lips began to leave open mouth kisses along your neck.

“Cyar'ika…” Din breathed as he wrestled your shirt off you. Rough and desperate. Yanking your breast band off with it. The moment you were bare to the chilly air of the cockpit, Din’s hot mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, teeth grazing sensitive skin, and you moaned. Din pulled away and you already missed his mouth. “Need you. Need all of you.”

Din loved you with rough hands and frantic begging. When the two of you were spent, breathless and sweaty, you slumped against his body. Din trailed his hands up and down your spine as if he couldn’t fathom not touching you.

“I can’t lose you.” He murmured in your ear. “Not you, cyar'ika.”

“You won’t.” You reassured him. “You won’t lose me.”

The reason Din stopped in Nevarro, stopped to see Karga, was for bounty pucks. You had never seen him take so many at once and he said less than ten words to the High Magistrate of Nevarro before dragging you back to the ship. 

A distraction. You convinced yourself. It was just a distraction. 

Din needed something to keep his mind busy and what better than bounty hunting? As long as you were there to keep an eye on him, make sure he’s cared for, then everything would be alright. It might take time, but it would be okay. That’s what you told yourself. Over and over and over. You wondered if the reassurance was more for your benefit. 

The first couple of bounties went normal, but slowly things began to feel…different. Wrong. The quarries Din brought in were more often cold than warm these days. He seemed to be favoring the darksaber as well. It had gone from a weapon used as a last resort to one of his regulars. Din got better with the weapon after every quarry, and the saber’s energy felt like it was singing. As wrong as it all felt, Din seemed himself still. In fact, he almost seemed closer to his normal self. The aching sadness and mourning wasn’t so present. 

“Din?” You called out from where you sat at the small table. Rather than staying on the new ship, the two of you had rented a room at a local inn. It put you closer to where the current quarry was hiding. “You in the mood for something specific? For dinner, I mean?” Din had stepped into the bathroom to clean up and still had yet to come out. “Baby?”

Concern began to take root, but the door opened and you felt it slip away only to be replaced by shock. A stranger in familiar armor stood in the doorway. Din. Din was helmetless. You quickly shut your eyes with a curse. Heavy footfalls crossed the room to stand in front of you and you felt Din’s warm hands on your cheeks.

“Cyar'ika, look at me.”

“Din, what are you doing?” You gasped. It had been nearly two months since the covert, but even then he kept his helmet on. Never took it off. You didn’t understand what had suddenly changed now so suddenly. “I⏤”

“I want you to see me.”

“But⏤ But, why now?”

Din’s thumbs were tracing your cheek and he wouldn’t answer your question. He murmured again for you to open your eyes and you hesitantly peeked through your lashes. Din stood towering above you. From where you sat, you had to look up to admire his features. His appearance was never important to you. You fell in love with the soul inside that armor. Din always swore you’d see his face one day, but the context would be different. He’d whisper about a future together as you both laid tangled in bed. 

He was handsome. Strong features, pretty dark brown eyes, scruff along his jaw. And his hair, you were finally able to see the dark slightly loose curls that you’d run your fingers through. You slowly stood and lifted a hand to trace his features.

“Am… Am I okay?” Din asked. 

The phrasing of the question was odd and it took you a moment to garner a guess. You cupped his face with a broad smile. “You’re more than okay. You’re perfect. Maker, it’s kind of not fair how handsome you are.” You kept your tone teasing and Din chuckled. The sight of his smile warmed your chest. “What brought this on?”

“I am an Apostate.” Din said firmly and you felt your own smile falter. His dark brown eyes stayed locked onto yours and though they held the depth and soul you always knew they would there was something else there. “I am no longer Mandalorian. Why should I hide my face any longer?”

“Din…” You mumbled. Concern leaking into your voice. This was quite the huge and sudden leap to make. “You⏤”

He leaned in and pressed a light kiss against your lips. The kiss turned deeper as Din began to devour you. Needy and wanting. Desperate. Soon he had you picked up into his arms so he could slam you against the wall. It always felt like Din craved you⏤ that wasn’t in debate. Right now though, he was like a man starved. As if he had never had never had you before and was worried he’d never have you again.

Din loved you like a man possessed. Pressed between him and the wall he was unrelenting. Still, held tight by the man you were in love with, Din moaned and begged for you to stay with him. He didn’t even pause to let you reassure him. Just praised the way you felt and pleaded for you to be his. 

There was something wrong with Din.

As you sat in the dingy alley, panting heavily from your near death experience, that was the first thought to occur to you. A hunt had gone wrong. One of the quarry’s allies had gotten the jump on you. You had taken a few hits, saw an opening to save yourself, but before you even had a chance the goon was being ripped off of you. Din had saved you, but it didn’t feel like being saved from where you sat.

Din had ripped the man off you and rather than use the darksaber he chose to beat the goon bloody with his hands. Blood splattered in the alley, on his otherwise spotless armor, and you found yourself trembling. The man who had been attacking you was long dead, but Din did not stop. His face was twisted in rage and hate. You called out his name, more than once, and eventually he paused in his onslaught to catch his breath. His chest was heaving from exertion and you could tear your eyes away from the red that stained his silver beskar.

Slowly, Din rose and stalked toward you. For a brief moment, you didn’t recognize Din. You didn’t know the stranger towering over you. He knelt down and reached out to cup the side of your face. The hot blood of the man Din had slaughtered smeared across your cheek. You could feel it and it sent a chill of fear down your spine. The hate began to dissipate from his eyes. There was a softness you recognized now, but for the first time you’d describe Din as hollow.

“Are you okay, cyar'ika?” He breathed. You nodded nervously. Din grabbed you by the arms and pulled you to stand. He let out a sigh of relief and wrapped you into a tight hug. He pressed you against his blood stained armor and laid his head on top of yours. Din shook his head, a shaky breath slipping from his lips, “I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you. No one will take you from me. I swear it, cyar'ika.” 

Relief and love radiated from Din, but all you could feel was the humming possessive energy that the darksaber blasted into the air around you both.

The sensation of dropping out of hyperspace woke you up. You blinked and reached out to a cold bed. Din had gotten up and was now dropping you out of hyperspace? You pushed up and slid out of bed. You found Din in the cockpit and the sight of an unfamiliar world hung in view just outside the ship. 

“Where are we?”

“Mandalore.”

You sat down in the passenger seat and grabbed Din by the knee forcing him to set the ship to drift and turn to face you. “What the kriff do you mean Mandalore?” Din didn’t respond. He leaned back in his seat and just stared at you. You were still trying to get used to seeing him without his helmet. Din rarely wore it these days. Even in a fight. “Din.”

“We’re meeting allies here.”

“For what?!”

“We’re recovering our home.”

Din was answering the questions as if you were being ridiculous for even asking them. As if you had been privy to this knowledge. Frustration made your temper flare. “Din, are you serious!?” He didn’t react and somehow that was worse. “We need to talk.”

“Then talk.”

Things had only gotten worse with Din. You were scared of what he was capable, but never in relation to you. No matter how cold his eyes grew, no matter how lost in got in a brutal fight, no matter how bitter the darksaber made the air, you knew Din wouldn’t hurt you. That knowledge was ingrained in your very soul. What worried you⏤ what kept you awake at night⏤ was your worry for Din. He always said he couldn’t lose you, but it felt like you were the one losing him.

“Baby.” You murmured and rose to take a seat in his lap innocently. Just trying to get closer to him. You cupped his face and at your contact the cold, distant look in his eyes briefly cracked. Din stared up at you in adoration and love. “I’m… I’m scared.”

Din furrowed his brow and sat up. His arms wrapped around your waist. “Don’t be. You never have to be scared. I’m never going to let anything hurt you.”

“No, Din, that’s not what I’m scared of.” You replied. “I’m scared for you. I’m worried about you.”

“I’ve never been better, cyar’ika.”

You raked a hand through his hair trying to convey every ounce of passion you felt for him in the simple motion. “Din… I’ve been wanting to say this for some time.” You shook your head. “The darksaber.” There was a flash of something unrecognizable in his gaze, but you pressed onward. “It’s… dangerous. You know when I told you about my lightsaber. It’s energy.” He nodded. “The darksaber gives off an energy too, and I don’t like it.”

“What do you mean?” Din asked.

“It feels like,” You winced and struggled for a description to match, “poison. Din, baby, it feels like poison.” Din shook his head as if he still could not understand what it was you were trying to say. “I think it’s a bad influence.”

Din scoffed but the curl of his lips made it seem like he wasn’t taking your statement seriously. “Cyar’ika, it’s a sword. It can’t influence me.”

“It’s not just a sword, Din. It has a kyber crystal in it and⏤”

“Are you trying to tell me I need to get rid of it?” He pressed. You gave a small nod. “I can’t. I need it.” You opened your mouth to argue, but his arms tightened around you. “If we’re going to take Mandalore back, recover it, then I have to use the darksaber. Be Mandalor.”

Your eyes widened. “Since when did you want that title??”

“But more importantly, I need it to protect you.” He whispered, ignoring your question entirely. Din leaned his forehead against yours and the touch was so soft and reverent that you shuddered. He took in a slow deep breath. “You are my priority. Always. The darksaber grants me the power to keep you safe.”

You pressed a tender kiss to his lips and Din’s breath hitched. As you spoke, you kept your lips close enough to brush against his with every word. “You never needed it before. And I’m not helpless. You know that.” Din closed his eyes and you dragged your fingers through his scruff. “We were fine without the darksaber. We don’t need it.”

Din leaned in to capture your lips with his. For the first time in a very long time, the kiss was slow and patient. He took his time tasting you and he leaned back to allow your hands to travel and explore him. It was so reminiscent of the days before everything fell apart that you almost cried.

Eventually, he pulled back and focused his heavy gaze on you. Din gave you a small smile, a hand tracing your jawline. “No, cyar’ika. The saber stays.” Your own smile faltered and fell. He left one last chaste kiss on your lips. “I love you. I will protect you.”

Your life on Mandalore was odd. Din left you out of the loop of everything. All you knew was that more and more Mandalorians arrived by the day to follow Din Djarin. It didn’t surprise you. The Din you knew and loved was a natural born leader whether he liked it or not. He had a magnetic draw to him. You didn’t see that side to your Din very much anymore. 

The city around you was slowly being rebuilt and you pondered your next move. Two months you had been on this rock seeing Din from a distance. Watching him turn into someone you didn’t recognize. When the palace was reestablished, a sentence you found obnoxious and ridiculous, Din moved you there to stay. He’d work all day, drift into your shared bedroom at night, and you mourned the days where everything was easier. Simple.

“Cyar’ika.”

You glanced over your shoulder to see the Mandalor approaching. The king of this world looked like Din, still stared at you as if you hung the moon and stars, but all you could see was the darksaber. It’s possessive energy clung to the man you loved. Two Mandalorian guards followed behind him, and you briefly admired the thick, fur lined cape that hung off one shoulder.

Din came to a stop in front of you and motioned to himself with a sheepish smile, “What do you think?”

“Very regal, Mandalor.” You teased softly.

Din drifted closer and took your hands in his. “Ni ceta, cyar’ika.” He mumbled. “I know I haven’t been around.”

“You’ve been busy. I get it.” You shrugged and tried to keep the bitterness out of your voice.

“But you come first. You always come first.” Din said firmly. “Things will be better from here on out. We’re stable. We’re established. And… I have a surprise for you.” Nervously, Din lifted your hands to tenderly press a kiss to them. “I have no right to ask, but will you give me your time today.”

It was so sweet. It was so Din. You were too overwhelmed to do anything but nod. Things could always turn around, you told yourself. All your time here, distanced from Din, you had planned. He needed a little exposure to his old life. You were the only person Din kept. Maybe seeing Boba and Fennec, seeing Peli, seeing Karga, seeing anyone would bring him back to the surface more permanently. You had even wanted to get in touch with Skywalker or Ahsoka to plan some kind of visit. If Din could see Grogu, you had no doubt he’d snap back into reality. He’d set aside the darksaber. The issue was, Mandalore still had thick storm clouds that prevented any outside interference or messaging. 

You felt isolated.

Din looped your arm through his and you walked by his side down the long hallway. You weren’t sure where he was taking you quite yet, but he spoke casually about his day and asked about yours with real interest. His smile was so warm and sincere that you could almost ignore the negative energy that damned saber gave off.

“Where are we going?” You asked as Din turned down a hall you knew would lead outside. “If we go out, I’m gonna need to grab my jacket.” Mandalore’s seasons still confused you and it almost seemed like the previous attacks had thrown the natural order out of balance. Lately, it had been rather cold.

“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you.” Din chuckled. He paused by the doors and you couldn’t help but glance at the two silent Mandalorian guards still standing near. Movement made you glance back in time to see he had shrugged out of his thick robe. Din settled the heavy article on your shoulders and you were surprised by the warmth it encased you in. “Comfortable?”

You nodded with a small smile. The robe smelled like him. Din captured your face in his gloved hands and you gazed up at him in awe. Din was in a good mood. It had been so long since you saw him like this. Light hearted. Excited. “Are you happy?” The question fell from your lips before you could even think.

“Of course.” Din replied quickly. His tone suggested he was surprised you’d ask. “I have you.”

“You’ve always had me.” You mumbled.

Din’s face faltered, only for a second, before he bowed his head to rest on yours. Forehead to forehead. “Ni ceta.” He breathed the apology out sincerely. “I know things have been hard and…you’ve put up with so much. I’m so thankful for you, cyar’ika, and my greatest regret will always be making you question that.”

“I never questioned it.” You lifted a hand to place on top of his own. “I love you, and I know you love me. I’ve just…been worried about you, baby. I want you to be happy.”

“I am.” Din replied. “You make me happy.” He closed the space to press his lips to yours. Tender. Loving. Passionate. Din’s tongue traced the curve of your lower lip and you allowed him to deepen the kiss. Your hands shifted to tangle in his hair. Din pulled you closer, flush against his body, and it didn’t even matter to you that two other Mandalorians stood off to the side as witness to this scene. Din pulled back, separating the two of you, but he quickly set two more chaste kisses against your lips as if he couldn't bear the thought of being apart. Din whispered a promise under his breath. “For the rest of my life, I will make you happy. I’ll keep you safe.”

You had endured the hell of watching Din suffer and begin to lose himself in sorrow. Perhaps, this was the light at the end of the tunnel. Din had found stable ground, and he was now returning to a man you recognized.

Din turned away to push open the doors, but he kept your arm looped through his. The courtyard which typically sat unused and in a semi state of shambles had been cleaned and polished. Mandalorians as far as you could see stood waiting and as Din walked you down the path you spotted a medium sized platform, nearly a stage, and on it was a chair⏤ no, a throne. That was the only word to describe the heavy, dark metal seat. Standing on the platform, you recognized Bo Katan. She stood on one side of the throne. On the other side stood two others that you recognized, you had seen them with Din often, but you didn’t know their names.

“Din?” You whispered his name.

He shot you a smile but continued on. Suddenly, you found yourself on the platform standing beside Din as he faced the crowd. He lifted one hand, as if in greeting, and you stared at him as he spoke Mando’a. His voice was loud and firm. Powerful. This was a king among men. You never thought Din Djarin of all people would look like he belonged in this setting. You knew he had the attributes that would make a fair and just king, but Din had never enjoyed the spotlight. The future he craved, the future he painted while speaking to you in the dead of night, was a humble one. A home, some land, a family. Peaceful.

A bark of Mando’a, in a voice you vaguely recognized, interrupted Din and you watched as his shoulders stiffened. The crowd parted and a Mandalorin in dark blue armor approached. Axe Woves. That was his name you believed. You didn’t know what he was saying, but you could feel the tension in the air.

Din set his hand on your waist and pushed you back. You only stumbled back a few steps before Bo Katan took you by the elbow and dragged you back further.

“What⏤ What is going on?” You asked.

“Challenge.” Bo Katan said. Din drew the darksaber from his belt and as it came to life you felt your own heart plummet. It’s poison was spewing in the air⏤ suffocating you. Smug. Arrogant. Angry. Insulted. You sucked in a sharp breath. “Axe Woves has challenged Din for the darksaber. For rule.”

The fight started in a clash of weaponry. 

It was a blur of beskar, but all your eyes could focus on was the arc of the darksaber. The burning glow that was now seared into your eyes. Seared into your brain. You wanted nothing more than to take that damned thing and throw it into the darkest pit you could find. Every time you watched Din used it, you hated it all the more. The fight did not last long.

Axe Woves was a good fighter, but he was not Din Djarin.

Soon, the air was silent as Din held the edge of the darksaber just under Axe’s jaw. Close enough that the man had to have felt the heat. Axe was breathing hard, but you couldn’t see his face⏤ his back was to you. Din stood where you could see his face and he looked to be the picture of calm. 

“Cetar.” Din demanded. Bo Katan whispered, her eyes not leaving the scene, as she translated the Mando’a. ‘Kneel’. Din asked him to kneel. You felt a chill run up your spine and it wasn’t from the cold air. The darksaber was singing. Excited. Eager. It craved and craved and craved. Din repeated the command. “Cetar.”

“Nayc.” Axe replied. You didn’t need that word translated. 

At the sound of his refusal, you watched a flash of an emotion you didn’t immediately recognize in Din’s eyes. However, it was clear to see the way his lips briefly curled up into a smirk. You opened your mouth to scream, but all your words caught in your throat. Thick, heavy, and unwilling to be heard. Before you could overcome your hindrance, Din shoved the darksaber through Axe’s chest with not even a singular hiccup of hesitation. Your mouth hung open in shock and disbelief, but the horror didn’t land until Din leaned in and used his vibroblade to slice through the man’s neck in one swift motion. Blood sprayed out and the darksaber was screaming in pleasure.

“He had to make an example.” Bo Katan whispered. “It’s unfortunate, but Woves brought this upon himself.”

Din deactivated the saber and set it back onto his belt. While Axe Woves’ body slumped to the ground, Din tucked the still bloody vibroblade back into his boot’s holster. You stared at him wide eyed and horrified as Din marched back to the platform. He spoke before the crowd again, but it felt like your ears were ringing. The man you fell in love with would never have cut a man down in cold blood. The duel had been over. It didn’t have to end with blood. 

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Din as he crossed the platform to sit on the throne. His legs were spread out in dominance as he lounged in the seat radiating confidence and pride. His eyes snapped to yours and Din held his hand out to you. Bo Katan gave you a small nudge and you stumbled toward the throne with hesitant steps. Din’s cold features melted away as he stared up at you as he always did, loving, but it only made the splattering of blood on his face that much more daunting. 

When you placed your hand in his, your fingers were trembling. Din squeezed your hand in comfort and he carefully pulled you back so you sat in his seat. Bo Katan was addressing the crowd and you stared and stared at Axe Woves’ dead body. Still laying on the courtyard’s ground, the pool of blood around him growing larger and larger.

You felt Din’s breath on your neck. His hands settled on your hips as he sat up to press his chest against your back. His breath was replaced with his lips. Din mumbled about how much he loved you and how important you were to him against your skin. All this time, all the hope you had, was for naught. The man at your back was a stranger.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Din pressed another hot kiss to the back of your neck. "But I just wanted to show you our new throne, my queen. Surprise."

As it turned out, the light at the end of the tunnel had turned out to be just more hellfire.

In the dead of night, you ran. 

You had hoped Din would return to his senses, become the man he once was, on his own accord. You hoped he had only needed time, but this had been proof. You were out of your depth. Din needed more than just time, he needed more than just you. As soon as you got past the thick, stormy atmosphere on Mandalore, you’d call for help. 

The plan had been to take Din’s ship. It was the only one you were familiar with the controls enough to not have to worry about running into any issues. As it turned out, flying was not going to be the biggest problem you faced.

“Cyar’ika.”

Your blood ran cold. Slowly, nervously, you turned around to see Din stood not far away. His shoulders were slumped in disappointment, and the look in his eyes could only be described as absolute and total devastation. He took one step forward and you took one back. Din’s jaw locked.

“Din…”

“What are you doing?” Din murmured. 

You shook your head. “Listen to me⏤”

“Listen??” Din scoffed. He took in a shuddering breath. “How could you⏤ Cyar’ika, I… Why?”

His voice cracked and you felt your heart ache in your chest. Din took another step toward you and you held a hand up which brought him to a sudden halt. You pressed your lips together then tried to explain that you were doing this for him. “Din, you’re not…you’re not yourself. You need help.”

“I need you.” Din replied firmly. “Everything is fine.”

“You murdered a man in cold blood today.”

“Is that what you⏤ You truly think so little of me?” Din asked. “It was a duel, cyar’ika. A challenge on my rule. I had no choice.”

You took a step toward him. “Din, you slaughtered him. And you enjoyed it.”

Din’s eyes darkened and the energy that slammed into you was possessive. For so long, you assumed that was how the darksaber felt. However, seeing the way he stared at you now, you realized the possession went much further than how the saber felt for him. He stormed forward and on pure instinct your hand drew your lightsaber without activating it. A warning. His steps stuttered. You didn’t know it was possible to visually see a person’s heart break, but you were witness to it right now.

“Cyar’ika,” Din whispered, “I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”

That was true for the man you fell in love with. 

Was it still true?

“I…I…” You struggled to find your words.

Din held his hands out, palms up, in surrender. He took slow steps toward you as if you were a skittish animal he was trying to calm. The tenderness in Din’s gaze cracked your resolve. He reached out and let his hands slowly drag down your arms until they reached your hands. You felt your body tremble. It was easy to make the decision to run when you stared at Din’s features covered in blood, but now? His warm, brown eyes reminded you of every soft touch and tender word of love. 

“Just come back with me.” Din whispered. “Talk to me, cyar’ika. I know…I know things haven’t been right.” He squeezed your hands and pushed the one holding the lightsaber back to your hip. “Let me fix this. Let me make this right. Give me a chance.”

Din leaned forward to set his forehead against yours. A familiar motion that brought you comfort. You let out a soft sigh. One more night. You could spend it talking with Din, gauging a better plan, and it wasn’t like you would be able to leave right now anyways. Not with him right in front of you like this. The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just going to let you walk away and the absolute last thing you wanted to do was fight him. 

“Please?” Din pleased.

“Okay.” You murmured. 

The bright smile of relief that crossed his face made your heart flutter. Din pulled you into a tight hug and he clung to you like a lifeline. This would be alright. This would be okay. You’d make sure of it. Din slipped his hand into yours and carefully tugged you alongside him. The entire walk back to your bedroom was silent. Din’s thumb traced patterns against your skin.

“I love you.” Din said the moment you were back in your shared room together. His words came out as a desperate ache. “I’m sorry…”

“No, Din, I…I love you. I will always love you.” You replied. “I was leaving to help you.” Din’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I just think you’ve lost sight of your path.” You pressed your lips together then settled your hands on his chest. “I think we should leave Mandalore. Not forever, just⏤ I think we should visit Boba or Karga. Peli? Or… Or maybe we can reach out to Skywalker. Try to visit Grogu.”

Din’s eyes widened at the suggestion. 

He wrapped his hands around your wrists then lifted your hands so he could press a soft kiss against one palm then the other. Din nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow. I’ll be better, cyar’ika.” You gave him a small smile and he leaned in to crash his lips against yours. The way his lips moved against yours made you feel like he was trying to physically beg you to stay with him. Din had never been a man of many words, he’d whisper kind sentiments, but he always showed how much he cared by action. “I love you.” Din’s mouth dropped to your neck as his hands began to tear at your clothes. “You are everything to me.”

 Your hands reached out to unlatch Din’s armor. It was muscle memory for you. How many times had you done this exact same action in the dark during your time with him? Too many to count. His besker fell to the ground and the second he was bare of any armor, Din scooped you up and carried you to bed.

In the morning everything would be okay.

You’d make it so.

A familiar hand caressing the side of your face is what you woke to. You forced your eyes open, groggy, to find that Din was sitting on the side of the bed leaning over you. He wore his armor once more. Din leaned down and pressed a feather light kiss to your forehead.

“Ni ceta, cyar’ika.”

“Din?” You questioned.

“I want you to know that everything I do is because I love you.” Din said. “I’ve lost everything, but you.” He cradled the side of your face. “Even this, accepting the title and responsibility of Mandalor, I did with you in mind.”

There was a tone in his voice that was making you nervous. Slowly, you sat up and shook your head, “Din, I never asked you to do that.”

“I know.” He replied. “But this is how I protect you.”

“Din⏤”

“There is nothing in this galaxy that will harm you while I’m around.” Din said firmly. He stood up off the bed and gave you a tight nod. “I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you. This won’t last forever, I swear it. But I can’t leave anything to chance. Not when you mean so much to me.”

Din began to walk toward the bedroom door to leave and you stared at him in confusion. Quickly, before he could leave, you threw the blankets off your body and jumped out of bed. There was a heaviness around your left ankle, a coldness, and with every movement came a rattling. You glanced down to see a shiny, silver chain locked around your ankle. It trailed to the wall beside your bed.

“Din.” You breathed. He stopped but said nothing. “Din?” He turned around with sad eyes. Panicked, you began to rush toward him, but a few feet away from him the chain caught your ankle and you nearly fell to the floor. Warm hands caught you by the arms and pulled your back to your feet. Teary eyed, you shook your head. “What have you done?”

“It’s temporary.” Din repeated himself. “Just until I know you won’t hurt yourself by leaving.”

“Hurt myself⏤ Din, I⏤”

“Cyar’ika, I'm doing this for you. To protect you.” Din gave you a tight lipped smile of regret. “Or until I can make you understand.” Din leaned his forehead against yours. The soft action you loved ruined by his words. “You are mine, cyar’ika. You are mine, and I am yours.” That look of possession was in his eyes again. “And because you are mine, I have to take care of you. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.”

Din was beginning to step back so you quickly cupped his face between your hands. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be. As softly as you could manage, trying to bite back the fear and panic in your voice, you mumbled. “Din, baby, you’re losing yourself. I love you, but you’re losing yourself and it’s breaking my heart. Let me go. Let me help you.”

He turned his head and gently kissed the inside of your palm.

“Maybe I am.” Din murmured. “But if that’s the cost of keeping you, then it’s one I will happily pay.”

Din left without another word and you crumpled to the ground in tears. You mourned for the man you lost and cursed the man who took his place.

mando'a translations

ni ceta: i'm sorry cyar'ika: darling, sweetheart cetar: kneel nayc: no

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #mando x reader #mando #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #dark!din djarin #female reader #reader insert

[beskarandblasters]

Punish Me, Officer Djarin

Prison Guard!Din Djarin x Inmate!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: Thank you to @fhatbhabie for the plot bunny and thank you to @pedgito for beta reading! 🤍🤍

Summary: You've been thrown into an imperial prison for anti-empire speech. During your sentence, a new prison guard is hired, Officer Djarin, and you take a liking to him.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: f!reader, reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, uneven power dynamic, brat taming, degradation (scumbag), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, his glove in your mouth lol, no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Bleak, white cell walls. Staring at the same thing for hours on end. Eating the same shitty rations day after day. Frankly, death would’ve been a better punishment than this. This was to be expected, though, when they gave you your sentence at your hearing. Part of you was sort of hoping to be put to death. It didn’t match your crime anyway. Anti-Empire speech… what a thing to be thrown in kriffing prison for. 

Your sentence is five standard cycles on this Imperial prison ship. You tried to keep track of the rotations here but it was no use. It’s hard to do that when there’s no rising and setting of the sun, no change of scenery, and no one to tell you when the rotations change. It’s a miracle you haven’t lost your mind here, staring up at the fluorescent white lighting or peering out into the liminal space that is the hallway. It looks like it goes on for miles, a never-ending corridor; sterile and mind-numbing. 

If there’s a Maker, you’re praying to him or her for something different, something to break the routine, something other than staring at ugly Imperial Officers who always look like they just smelled a fart. 

The Maker answered your prayers.

“Listen up, inmates!” one of the Imperial Officers says, banging his blaster on the metal bars of one of the cells.

You and the other inmates in this cell block peer out into the hallway, looking for where his voice is coming from. But soon enough the Imperial Officer, Officer Baize, is pacing up and down the cell block. 

“We have a new officer joining us,” he says, stopping in front of your cell and glancing down the hallway. He motions for someone to come towards him. You’re just expecting another typical Imperial Officer type but you couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Sauntering down the cell block is a Mandalorian, wearing full silver beskar and cape billowing as he walks. Your mouth falls open at this threatening presence; donned in various weapons head to toe. 

“This is…?” Officer Baize trails off, looking over at the Mandalorian. 

“Mando?”

“No, you gotta go by Officer something. Got a last name?”

“…Djarin.”

“Officer Djarin. He may look different from us but you will all treat him like one of us. Got it?”

Everyone murmurs their acknowledgments and retreats to the back of their cells. Except for you. You watch as Officer Djarin paces up and down the cell block with Officer Baize. You catch bits and pieces of the conversation. He’s just giving Officer Djarin some of the basics about working here. But soon enough the red lights to signify nighttime turn on and they disappear between the two sets of doors. The entertainment is over. 

-

Ever since you stepped foot in the prison, it’s been the same. You do everything in your cell; eating, using the refresher, exercising, sleeping— you name it, you’re doing it in your cell. But now that Officer Djarin has arrived, the prison has decided to switch things up. 

“Listen up, inmates! The warden has decided to make you useful to the Empire. You’re going to be put to work, assembling droid parts,” Officer Baize says, banging his blaster against the bars of the cells as usual. 

“We’re going to release you from your cells one by one and you’re going to stand in a single file line with your hands on your head. Do I make myself clear?”

The inmates utter their unenthusiastic words of acknowledgment, prompting Officer Baize to bang his blaster on the bars again, with even more force than the last time. 

“I said do I make myself clear?” he shouts louder. 

“Yes, sir,” everyone shouts in unison, standing up straighter. 

One by one Officer Djarin lets the inmates out of their cells. But his body language suggests that he’s still unsure of his new role. He’s almost hesitant to grab each inmate by the arm and force them into a neat line. And that gets you thinking…

It would be kind of fun to mess with him. 

You move to the back corner of your cell, waiting for him to arrive at yours. Once he does he unlocks the bars and slides them across, he motions for you to come forward but you don’t comply, remaining in the corner with a smug grin on your face. 

“Get in line,” he commands sternly. 

You cock your head to the side, your smirk never fading. 

“Is there a problem, Officer Djarin?” Officer Baize calls out. 

Kriff, you didn’t want him involved. 

“No, not at all-”

“Don’t be afraid to use some force,” Officer Baize says. A smug smirk is evident in his voice even though you can’t see his face. Officer Djarin walks towards you and the saunter in his steps makes you feel powerless compared to him, adorned in all sorts of weapons and cloaked in armor. 

“Get in line,” he commands. 

“And what are you gonna do if I don’t? Punish me?” you counter. 

“Maybe I won't…” he says, taking another step towards you, “But I can get someone who will,” he continues, bringing his helmet beside your ear. 

A shiver runs down your spine. His voice is velvety smooth. And although he’s telling you he’d unfortunately get someone else to come in and reprimand you, you can’t help but melt. 

“Well, that’s no fun.”

“Get in line, inmate,” he says, pressing his hand against the wall, right beside your head. He pulls back and his visor meets your gaze, lingering on you for a moment before turning and walking out of your cell. With your knees feeling like jelly you walk to the hallway, taking your place at the end of the line. Officer Djarin is standing behind you and you feel his gaze burning a hole into you. 

“Hands on your head,” he says beside your ear again. He’s right up against you, in a motion so quiet that it startles you. You do as you’re old and put your hands on your head, waiting for what he’s going to do next. But he doesn’t do anything. He just takes a step back, leaving you there to follow the inmate ahead of you. 

What a tease. 

The entire time you’re listening to Officer Baize drone on and on about assembling droid parts you’re thinking about Officer Djarin and his melodic voice. 

Maker, his voice. 

It’s velvety smooth, modulated in such a pleasing tone that it makes you wonder what he sounds like without the helmet. It also makes you wonder what his voice sounds like when he’s telling you to get on his knees and suck his cock like a good inmate.

A girl can dream. 

You glance over your shoulder and find him, standing at the back of the room with his visor fixed on you. 

Maybe just maybe he wants you, too. 

-

That starts a never-ending cycle between you two. You get under his skin and he puts you in your place… just not in the way you’d like. 

You’d like for him to drag you into a supply closet and bend you over, spanking you while calling you a bad girl. But you’ve been letting go of that fantasy. He cares about his job too much to cross the line. So instead he teeters on the edge of what is professional and what is… inappropriate to say the least. 

-

After another long shift of assembling droid parts and irritating Officer Djarin, you’re in your bed, wishing you were doing anything else besides staring up at the ceiling. 

Until you hear your cell door being unlocked. 

You shoot up out of bed, ready to attack whoever’s coming in. But then you see a reflection glimmering under the red lights of the cell block. 

It’s Officer Djarin, of course. 

“Come with me,” he orders. 

You don’t need to be told twice. You’ve only been hoping for this moment for Maker knows how long. 

You step into the hallway, waiting with your hands on your head. After he shuts the cell door he grabs your wrists, pinning them behind your back before dragging you down the hallway under the dim red light… to a supply closet. It’s like he read your mind. 

He opens the door and shoves you inside, leaving you to stumble upright as you regain your balance. This should scare you, being locked in a closet with a tall man made of metal who holds some form of power over you. But it doesn’t. It only excites you. It makes the excitement pool between your legs. 

He closes the door behind him and takes a step closer to you, pinning you against the wall. The same red light that’s in the hallway hangs from the ceiling of the closet, illuminating his armor. 

“Are you gonna punish me, Officer Djarin?” you ask sweetly, cocking your head to the side. 

“Not in the way you want,” he says, bringing his helmet beside your ear like he always does. Your legs buckle underneath you as you press yourself harder against the wall, praying it’ll keep you upright. Officer Djarin places his gloved hands by either side of your head, palms flat against the wall as he continues to taunt you. 

“You’re pathetic. You know that, right? Throwing yourself at me like that,” he says, pulling his helmet back to face you. 

You’re pathetic.

Those words should hurt but they don’t. They turn you on even more, making your whole body shiver with desire, craving for him to degrade you more. Your mouth falls agape, and he picks up on it, asking, “You like that, don’t you? You like it when I tell you what a desperate slut you are?”

“...Yes,” you admit.

“Say it,” he commands.

“I like it when you tell me what a desperate slut I am.”

“That’s right.”

He removes his hands from the wall and grabs you by the waist, dragging you over to a cleaning cart in the corner of the closet with a forceful grip. 

“Bend over,” he growls. 

Doing as you’re told, you bend over, standing on your tip-toes and sticking your ass up, hoping that it looks good for him. As good as it’ll get in the unflattering prison garb. 

He hands palm your ass, rubbing it over the thick fabric before grabbing the waistband and pulling them down entirely. He takes off one of his gloves, setting it on the cleaning cart before rubbing two fingers along the entrance of your cunt. He collects some of the wetness that’s already built up there, bringing his hand in front of your face to show you the evidence of your arousal. Under the dim red light, you watch as his thumb rubs against his index and middle fingers, spreading your wetness around. He spreads his fingers apart and your wetness stretches with the movement, all while he taunts you. 

“So wet for me. And I’ve barely even touched you.”

All you can do is whimper in response, desperate for more of his touch.

“Do you want me?”

Another whimper from you.

“Say it.”

“I want you,” you whine.

“Address me when you talk to me.”

“I want you so bad, Officer Djarin. Please,” you beg.

“Much better,” he says, bringing his hand back to your cunt and sliding one finger inside you. 

A small moan escapes your lips, prompting him to tease you further.

“From just one finger?” he mocks, curling it painstakingly slowly against your walls. 

“I… I need more,” you whine.

“You know what to do.”

“Please can I have more, Officer Djarin?”

Without warning he slides a second finger in and you feel yourself stretch to accommodate the thickness of both fingers. You moan involuntarily again and he leans forward, helmet beside your ear again. 

“Be quiet, inmate,” he commands, doing a “come here” motion with his fingers. 

“I’m trying,” you softly whine. 

“Try harder,” he says, picking up the pace. 

You grip the cleaning cart for dear life, thankful it’s there to hold you upright as he fingers you relentlessly. You bite your lip to prevent any more noises from slipping out. But it’s hard when your orgasm is threatening to spill over. He can feel you’re close, purring in your ear, “Give it to me. Cum on my fingers.”

And then the floodgates burst open, walls clenching and releasing his fingers in rhythmic waves. You bite down on your lip harder, doing your best to stifle any whimpers and moans on the tip of your tongue. It’s not easy. All you want to do is moan, whine, whimper, scream, letting the whole cell block know that Officer Djarin is having his way with you in this supply closet. 

He pulls his fingers from you once you’re done coming, only to swipe his fingers again along your entrance to collect your spend. He slathers his cock with it and you can hear the wet squelching sounds he makes as he strokes himself behind you, getting ready to fuck you. 

With one hand on your hip and the other on your shoulder he thrusts his cock inside you, burying himself down to the hilt. You were doing your best to stifle your moans before but this is too much, not with his large cock gracing your insides. As he draws his hips back and slams into you, a moan from deep in your throat forces its way out, causing him to go still. 

He’s going to punish you for that. 

Officer Djarin reaches forward and grabs his glove from the cleaning carts, shoving it in your open mouth. 

“That’ll teach you,” he says, returning to fucking you again. 

You moan and cry despite the balled-up glove in your mouth, feeling your pleasure build up as he thrusts in and out of you. His grips on your hip and shoulder are tight, fucking you forcefully while making sure you stay upright. 

He leans forward, purring into your ear again with a mixture of degradation and praise. 

“Such a good scumbag, letting me use her pussy like this.”

His pace never falters, thrusting in and out of you unforgivingly. Tears roll down your cheeks and stars dance in your vision. Your second orgasm is imminent, you can tell by the way your core muscles tense up in anticipation of a big release. It isn’t long until you cum all over his cock, waves of pleasure coursing throughout your body. 

The sensation of your cunt squeezing his cock draws his orgasm from him and soon enough you’re filled with his cum. He lets out a deep and guttural moan, holding you still as he releases all of his spend inside you. 

But once the adrenaline settles you’re left with the realization of what just happened. You weren’t imagining it. He did want you and he just proved it to you. But how is he handling this? 

He pulls out of you and puts his cock away, leaving you to stand up straight and pull your pants back up. You look at each other under the dim red light, staring at him with a blank expression until a smirk creeps onto your face. 

Before he can say anything or put you in your place, a voice startles the both of you. 

“Officer Djarin? Are you in there? The warden wants to know why you abandoned your post.”

Kriff.  

#din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian x f!reader #prison guard!din djarin #dark!din djarin #din djarin au #din djarin #the mandalorian

[divinehedons]

fallen gods.

Pairing: dark!Din Djarin x f!reader

Summary: The life of a bounty hunter rejects conformity with humanity. When the Mandalorian abandons you on a job, you swore to yourself you would never forgive him. That doesn't mean it would stop him from repenting; no matter how twisted it turns him against you.

Warnings: This is a dark fic, minors DO NOT interact. Non-con turned dub-con? (tagging as both for safety), angst, Din Djarin is a touch-starved mf, rough explicit unprotected p in v, breeding kink, some form of body worship, the helmet comes off!

Word Count: ~2.6k

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated; requests for shorter drabbles welcome!

Wit and cunning is the way of life for many within the galaxy. It was no secret. Work yourself to the bone, always look death in the eye, and trust no one. It was the last of those rules that always ended up forgotten. Complacency was fool's gold, love is a vulnerability.

You had trusted the Mandalorian once. In a different lifetime. You had worked a few bounties together, shared some battles, fought in others. "You know, some people would refer to us as a strained friendship," you once told him within the bowels of space, surrounded with nothing but the shine of distant far-off stars and the bellowing walls of the Razor Crest.

"We aren't other people," he merely said in return, gruff and closed off as ever, handing you your half of the bounty. "See you whenever, cyari'ka."

It was ideal. It was perfect. Neither served no country, you bore no allegiances and he belonged to his covert; followers only where the credits go.

It all came to a head in a mission gone bad, the experience as sharp as sour milk on a summer's day. It is a memory that will forever tighten your jaw, a memory from which you have never found in your heart to forgive him. Not when you pounded against the airlock windows, watching him limp away in his tarnished armor while you screamed for him, while the enemy eventually drags you away.

He abandoned you. So, what? So you get tortured until parts of you are forever mangled and stirred before you were flushed out, abandoned, about to float into space if you hadn't crawled your way into the nearest transport. So it goes.

Or so it would have, if you never saw the Mandalorian again.

In Tatooine's cantina, drenched in the shadows beneath your cloak, examining a bounty puck with a raised brow, settling for your price. It was some noble. An easy job, something to keep your mind busy. When you hear that all too familiar sound of his boots, you glance in the direction of the entryway, where the shadows of the past you had wanted so badly to worry came crawling out and kneeling before him.

He who stood glorious and brand new. He with his somewhat new beskar armour. He with a Child trailing behind him, following him so eagerly and so joyously that you feel the envy sinking into your bones. He who had abandoned you was happy, glorious and brand new.

Perhaps it was how inhuman the new armour looked on his already too emotionless body language. But there simply was something about him that was chillingly, undeniably cold.

You finish your drink, you pocket your possessions, and you pass through him gruffly as you leave. You feel his gaze follow you as you disappeared into the warm midday of the two suns, never once looking back as you clenched your fists in your hands. You do not see him again.

At least not until you brought back with you the head of your bounty to collect your payment.

You still reek of blood when you savour drink in Nevarro, the weight of the credits in your pocket enough to keep you satisfied. Your fingers are marked with your slaughter when you feel that all-too-familiar presence sinking into the seat beside yours.

"So," he began, as if grasping and searching for the right words to say. "You seem well." You try and focus on the drink before you, skin almost crawling with the way his eyes seemed to take in the details of your changed form from up close. The way he looked indicated he had done this before from a distance, that he was unsatisfied without knowing more.

"I'm not talking to you, Mando."

You rise to leave, drink unfinished as you try and pass by him. But when his gloved hand encloses your arm, you freeze in your spot, jaw clenched as you finally look back to him and letting him see the surface of your damages. You feel his hold slacken as he comprehended the shifts in your features. The slope of your nose, broken and resetted in a way that was not quite right. The cracked surface of your lower lip, scabbed over and still somewhat healing. The indication of more injuries, barely peeking past the collar of your tabard.

"Do you have a place for the night?"

It is how you end up in the open evening by his small home, watching the darkness as he asked you to wait as he soothed his youngling to sleep. He returns with liquor that slowly weakens you, opens you up to his insistence, his curiosity. So you tell him. You tell him of what happened when you were taken away. You tell him of those incomprehensible days, spitting out the details as if by doing so, they would cease from haunting your days ever again.

"You abandoned me, Mando," you finally grit out, moving away when he reaches to touch you again. "And you come back with brand new armour, a home, and a child-" You swing again, working up a temper as your blows seem to hit him but never affect him. You cannot see his features, and perhaps he laughs at your meager attempts of vengeance.

You hit and hit until his large hand catches both of your wrists, pulling you both into the warmth of his arms and the cruel chill of beskar, emanating past the layers of clothing. You allow a whine of frustration, struggling in his grip as the murmur escapes him. Let me see, cyari'ka.

You abandon the bottle of spirits. You let him half-carry and half-drag you to his bedroom, easing you into bed despite your protestations. You attempt to struggle—and yet it is fruitless. As if your inebriated, broken body stood a chance against a Mandalorian at his prime. Skillfully, his free hand frees you from your cloak and tabard, more and more skin revealed to show him the markings left on your skin, evidence of his betrayal and your sufferings immortalized in the hymn of broken skin.

"Dank Farrik, adi'ka-"

"Let go of me, Mando!" Your cries fall on somehow deaf ears, wrists pinned above your head as he trails his gloved fingers so softly, so gently over the litany of unseen tortures.

"Din Djarin," he finally speaks, visor turning to you once more as you regard the cool beskar helmet in shaky silence. "My name is Din Djarin."

There is a moment of silence, both of you listening as to whether or not his child had awoken with your struggles. He never breaks your gaze, or at least you imagined not to, seeing little behind the dark slits of his visor. "I never wanted to abandon you."

You shut your eyes as you struggle once more in his arms. You attempt a scream but all you hear is the hissing of air, the all-too-human sound of breathing, the sensation of it on your neck. When he speaks again, his voice sounds different, now unhindered by the modulator.

"Look at me. Please."

It is rare to hear the sound of his voice unhindered by the distances that had always stood between them. It is even rarer to hear him with such brokenness seeping through the cracks of the cadences of his voice. When you open your eyes, you are greeted with his own. The colour of amber. The pink of his lips. Facial hair and waves and waves of chocolate.

He once asked why you had gotten into this mess. You spoke well. You spend moments of nothingness between bounties reading things he could barely comprehend. You asked too if he had ever seen insects floating in amber. He tilts his head as if he waited for you to continue.

"Well, here we are, Mandalorian," you had said, tilting your head back and shutting your eyes as you relaxed. "There is no why. There simply is."

Were you now the same insect, drowning in the amber of the Mandalorian's eyes? Of all the things he was devoted to, the ways of his covert were perhaps at the top of that list. Had he willingly rendered himself an apostate now? For what?

He whispers to you as his lips trace your skin, despite your whines and your attempts to evade his lips. Again and again, the same syllables repeating with each and every mark he came across.

Mesh'la. Mesh'la. Mesh'la.

The fight within you is renewed when he attempts to bind you to the bed, wrists captured with bindings digging into your skin. You protest, you cry, you almost beg. But when you look him in the eye, you know he will never listen. You know he is overtaken by his own desire to be clean, to prove to himself that he is good.

"I hate you," you finally whisper, "and I'll hate you even more when you do this, Din Djarin."

He pauses for a moment and fragments of you wonder if it is enough to snap him out of his delusions, enough to bring him enough sanity for reason. A flicker of familiarity registers in his gaze, only to disappear once more in the grip of darkness as he kisses you wantonly, hands cradling your cheeks with a gritted sigh of exasperation.

"Pray that it will stop me from wanting you, adi'ka."

Those words tether you and freeze you to your spot while he continues his descent along your vulnerable frame. Gloved hands tug on your pants and the rest of your underwear, pulling it just down to your ankles with a broken moan at the sight of your skin. He uses his teeth to pull off the right hand glove, two fingers spreading you open into the cool evening. His knees weaken at the sight of your tight cunt, all for him to savour whether or not you wanted him to.

"I heard you," he murmurs, raising himself back to face level as he watches your features once more. "In those long nights in the Crest. I heard the way you whimpered when you get close. The way you kept begging at air. I was right there, cyare, I would have given you everything."

You vaguely remember those dark and lonely evenings, cooped up with nothing to do and hours upon hours of time. You stare back at him and whine softly, tilting your head back as your cheeks redden. "You told me we weren't that kind of partners so I... I never tried-"

He kisses you with teeth and hunger, the way the beast devours the prey at the end of a long, arduous hunt. He bites your lower lip enough to reopen where it once split. When your blood reaches his tongue, he could have sworn it was the first he ever felt somewhat close to being satisfied. Your pained yelp is sweeter than music. He looks to your face and he sees the face of something he had never believed in. Nothing else mattered, there was only you.

It was then that he resolved it within himself. He will take and he will take until you quell the hellfire of want that plagued him all this time.

It takes less than a minute before he has impatiently freed his aching cock, weeping with pre-cum and aching for the warmth of your walls. It takes even shorter for his thumb to brush your clit repeatedly, despite your protests and attempts to kick him off, as if it was his last mercy to his beloved prey.

Your cries rear to their most desperate when he grinds the head of his desire against you, giving you just enough of a taste of just how much more he can ruin you. And when he does fuck into your cunt in one fluid motion, it all becomes too much. The burn from the stretch of your walls accomodating him, the burn of his beard against your neck as he adds to the litany of markings against your skin, and even to the gentleness in his hands that which contrasted the violence of his loins.

While you wept, he becomes utterly frozen at the embrace of your own flesh against his. The suffocating breath of pleasure bubbling beneath your skin, like an itch that provokes, dares to be scratched.

If such were the sins of the flesh, then he wouldn't want to look anywhere else.

He fucks you steadily, desperately while he kisses away the tears on your cheeks, fingers tracing each and every mark that to him belonged only entirely to you, that made you what you are to him- his very own violent act of creation. He fucks you as your tears melt into whines, and then again into soft moans, cradling you as one would with a babe.

You orgasm twice despite your struggles. It is a sound he knows all too well and a sensation that is all too new to him. You'd clench and tremble around him in fits of divine ecstasy, lips parted as your whines become all the more sweeter. And when he wouldn't stop, neither did your climax halt for you, even when fresh tears escaped you just from how overwhelming it had gotten.

It is then that he imagines something else entirely. Your warrior's body, straining and struggling so courageously as you birth him a child, his bloodline expanding, intertwined with that of your own. He pictures the wit and cunning that flows from you, pictures it in Mandalorians in battle. The mere thought of its possibility is enough for a tremor to quake through his already too eager frame.

He shushes you gently, kissing you once more as his thrusts stutter, struggles, attempts to hold back the orgasm that threatens to stop the barrage of heaven he had found himself privy to. He kisses you once again, the burn of his beard against your sensitive skin just adding once more into the sensation of the third orgasm that builds and bubbles beneath your skin. In silence, his ungloved hand sinks between you, pinching one of your nipples with a tug before rolling it between his fingers, just enough that you arch into him, begging him without words for more.

"Birth me a warrior, cyari'ka. One as strong and as glorious as you are right now." Your eyes watch him, attempting to speak when two of his fingers sink between your parted lips, your renewed struggle weak and meaningless when he freezes, grits his teeth, hardness drawn and aiming for one goal, thrusting harder and harder and holding just to see your features contort into your third orgasm. It is then that he loses all control, fucking up into you with stuttering hips. "Such a brilliant girl. You'll take my seed well, won't you?"

His warmth encompasses you, fills you, floods you with his seed. Your body surrendering into his hold as he fucks the both of you through your release, body falling into yours with a pleasured hum.

He stays, as if the longer he remains, the higher the likelihood it would be that his seed takes. His weight against yours soothes you into a soft, dreamless sleep, hardly interrupted by the way he frees you from your bindings. You hum in your sleep, mind freed and flying away into the nothingness of rest.

You whisper in the limbo between dreams and reality. "When will you learn how to regret, Din Djarin?"

He couldn't help but soften as you melted into the most peaceful slumber he had ever seen you take. Only when your frame completely relaxes does he finally speak. "Adi'ka, I have lived in it without you. And I shall do everything I am capable of to never experience it again."

#din djarin #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #dark!din djarin x reader #dark!din djarin #dark!din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #writing

[darkuselesssomebody]

𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝟛 - dark!din djarin x fem!reader

complete masterlist | kinktober 2023 masterlist

kink || sex pollen

taglist || @silversprings-mp3

fandom || star wars (the mandalorian)

a/n || this is my first real dark fic, it is genuinely quite fucked, please don't judge me

➵ warnings for specific content before the divider

➵ din is quite ooc in this, set prior to the events of the show.

➵ comment/message if you'd like to be added to the taglist

warnings || smut/dark (dddne)

➵ kidnapping

➵ use of sedatives/aphrodisiacs

➵ mild choking

➵ unprotected sex

➵ slapping/mild violence

➵ some overstimulation

➵ degradation

credits had been low that month.

din was a damn good bounty hunter - every member of the guild knew it, but the universe had been unusually peaceful these past few weeks. he'd spent most of his earnings on fixing up the razor crest, leaving him with little left. he was fiending for a bounty.

so when some backwater guy in a backwater planet told him of a thief who'd stolen a host of items from him, din had agreed in the blink of an eye. the pay was good, the target was simple enough - exactly what he needed to get back on track.

"careful." the client warned before he gave din the tracking fob, "she's feisty and slippery. doesn't put up any meaningful fight, but a pain in the ass to keep secured."

so, when din passed a shady market on his way back to the razor crest, he found a guy selling sedatives - better, for dirt cheap. knowing most sedatives go for at least twice the price, he figures it must just be a bit mild, but decent for this situation. din doesn't miss the man's leer as he walks away.

"have fun..." he says in a knowing, slimy tone, and din's confused, but doesn't question it. his mind's on the bounty.

she wasn't difficult to track, nor to find alone. she's living in some dingy abandoned hut in the edges of a black market, likely trying not to draw attention to herself. there's not even a lock on her door, and din walks in while she's sleeping. she's on her stomach, the faintest hint of a snore emitting from her half-blocked nose, and din takes out the pre-made injection with the sedative. he flips her over for better access, covering her face with his broad, gloved hand, as he pushes the needle into her skin, injecting her bloodstream with the sedative.

at the sharp pain, her eyes snap open, and she whimpers, but it's all muffled by his hand. she tries to claw at his hand, and din can commend her for at least trying to fight back. but, it's fruitless, as her eyes start fluttering, and she goes limp, passing out. he picks her up, lugging her along under the cover of darkness to his ship.

a job well done, he thinks, as he sits her limp body in the passenger seat in the cockpit, before sitting on his own. he powers on the ship, taking flight, before turning on the autopilot. knowing she's well-strapped, he's ready to go ahead and take a nap, when he starts hearing small whimpers coming from his side. he turns around curiously, to see her - though still asleep - fidgeting and moving her legs.

his eyes widen behind his visor. is she fucking grinding on the seat? he immediately sits up, pants growing uncomfortably tight at the little show of arousal. he gets up, kneeling in front of her chair, as he waves his gloved hand over her face, to see if she's awake. her mewls are sweeter up close. fuck, he's hard.

she's still in her sleepwear. the planet he picked her up off is hot - thank gods - and her legs are only clad in sleep shorts. his gloved fingers force her thighs apart slightly, morals blown to the wind in the pursuit of soothing his cock, and the leather fabric finally reaches her wet - correction: dripping - cunt, as her mouth lets out the sweetest little moan.

it morphs into a scream as she awakens, though, trying to close her thighs instinctively. his grip is harsh, squeezing the life out of her thighs, as he forces her legs open even wider - muscles stretched almost uncomfortably. her lip quivers in worry at the intimidating mandalorian in front of her.

"don't resist, and I won't hurt you." his modulated voice is cold, and rough, and she doesn't dare disobey. her eyes travel down to the blaster at his side, before running back to him. whatever he injected her with was still coursing through her veins, making her brain foggy and her cunt pulse. she can't help the moan she lets out as her fingers brush against her clit again, her entire body jolting violently. it contradicts with the tears in her eyes: stemming from her fear of the man in front of her and the fact she'd have to have sex with the strange, terrifying bounty hunter.

din pauses for a moment, to turn back to the - now empty - bottle of the sedative he'd bought earlier. it had coagulated from the oxygen it was exposed to, and had turned a deep, cherry red. an aphrodisiac, he realizes, now understanding why the sedative had been so cheap. it had been cut with an aphrodisiac, likely supposed to work as a date rape drug. he sighs, placing the bottle back. might as well make the most of it.

he stalks back towards her, and she's looking up at him with fearful doe eyes, upset at her predicament, and at her inability to disguise how badly she needed to be taken care of by her captor. she only squeaks when he harshly forces her calves up to bend her body in half. her mouth parts in soft, breathy whimpers, and it makes his cock pulse.

he forces a hand to her throat - if only to keep her still - but her eyes widen horror, making his lips curl into a smirk. he squeezes once, just for the fun of it, before reaching down with his free hand to force his pants off. his cock stands, hard and scary, and the sight of it makes her body twitch in anticipation and excitement, and a ragged breath leave her lips, eyes wide in anticipation and fear.

he forces her ankles over his shoulders, leaning down against the chair to really cage her in and force her body in half. he pulls her shorts up to her knees, not bothering to pull them off completely, as he already has access to what he wants.

"you don't have to do this..." she whimpers, though her cunt pulses for him, her blood on fire - from both his heat and the drug. he stays dead silent, before roughly stuffing two covered fingers into her, making her squeak out in pain and pleasure. he forces them in deep, wiggles around for just a second, making her eyes water, before pulling them out, and smearing the liquid over her cheek.

"but you want it so bad." it's worse because his tone doesn't sound mocking, but more observational, as if it wasn't him violating her, but rather, her own body. before she can protest further, he pushes his cock into her, and she's more than wet enough to just slide right in.

she can't help the high-pitched, needy moan that tumbles from her lips, his fingers flexing around her throat as he hisses through gritted teeth at the sensation of her tightening and pulsing walls hugging his cock. he was half-sure it was the fear that made her so tight, only amplified by the drug in her system, and fuck, did it feel good.

he doesn't wait, fucking into her roughly, unleashing his frustrations of the slow month into her needy cunt, as he saw her protests overshadowed by the increasing sounds of her moans.

he fucks through a few of small, quick orgasms which were spurred by the drug, and she'd gone fully dumb, not even bothering to protest, and just letting her eyes roll back and her moans ring out in the cockpit. he's close, and can tell something deep is building in her too, as she's unable to ground herself, leg muscles flexing as she desperately tries to survive the wave of pleasure about to overtake her.

just to see her eyes widen in worry once more, he brings his thumb down to her clit, pressing on it harshly, in a way that was only pleasurable once you got through the pain of it. as he wished, her eyes stare up at his in indignance and pleading - begging him to stop the action - as she writhed in pain, before her breath caught in her throat, and she cums so hard around him, she thinks she's passed out.

when she finally opens her eyes back up, panting and drooling, he's stilled inside her, pumping her full of his cum, making her wince as he pulls out. the effects of the drug are gone, and the reality is sinking in.

she looks at him with anger, disgust and dread, which makes him smirk under his helmet. for the fun of it, he delivers a smack - though not too hard - to her cunt, making her whimper and jolt, before getting up, and returning to the pilot's seat.

he starts landing the razor crest to deliver the bounty. maybe he'll use the credits to deep clean the chair she's creaming and crying over.

#kinktober 2023 #din djarin #din djarin oneshot #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #dark!din djarin #the mandalorian #star wars #sex pollen #pedro pascal

[corazondebeskar-reads]

I'll take care of you

dark!Din Djarin x gn!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 1 - helpless | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 882

summary: Din takes care of you after a head injury leaves you helpless.

warnings: dark, dark!Din, gaslighting, graphic descriptions of injury, restraints, manipulation, violence, no y/n, reader has hair of unspecified length and no other description

dividers by @saradika-graphics

It’s blurry. Everything, that is. You try to reach to rub your eyes, but the cuff jerks you still. 

Same shit, different day. You wish you’d start remembering faster when you wake up. 

The mornings you do wake up, that is. 

You know you’re missing days. It’s hard, with how the room spins, to keep track of anything. 

“Good morning, cyar’ika. How do you feel?” says the smooth baritone, like fresh caramel dripping onto a sundae. It’s a warm comfort.

Until it grows cold and hardens, that is. His hand shoots out and grips your jaw. “What have I said about answering me when I speak to you?” 

He’s quick to anger today. So you’ll likely be bed-bound again. 

“Sorry, cyare,” you mumble. Using the pet name placates him, and his hand relaxes but doesn’t leave you, gloved thumb brushing your bottom lip. 

You don’t even know if he’s flesh and bone. His cock would lead you to believe so, but the rest of him is cold metal, and they make good synthetics nowadays. 

You don’t want to ask. It’s something you’re sure you should know, and sometimes, the things you’ve forgotten upset him. You guess you’d be upset, too, if your spouse forgot you. 

“It’s okay. I know it’s hard when you’re still all scrambled.” He moves like he’s going to ruffle your hair, but all you feel is the grinding, bruising pain as his hand grips and jostles your head. 

He’s rustling with the restraints, and you try to tamp down any and all emotion. He says it’s okay, that it’s normal for you to have intense feelings, all things considered. 

But sometimes you seem to have the wrong feeling, and he doesn’t like that very much. 

Once your wrists are unhooked, he helps you to stand on trembling legs. Walking makes you so dizzy, so he always makes sure he can support you. 

That’s one thing you can’t deny despite the pain and forgetfulness. He’s so attentive while you’re helpless. He never leaves you to struggle. It’s obvious he’s a good husband—maybe even the romantic type, doting and considerate. 

He lets you use the fresher by yourself but helps you stand up and settle the tunic back down around your body. It’s the only clothing you have on. Other than thick wool socks with rubber grips, that is. He says it’s not safe to walk without them. 

You’re sad to be led back to bed, and it must show. 

“How about I stay for a while, and you can have a break from the cuffs?” he offers. 

It works, and you brighten up a little. “Thank you, Din.”

He still makes you sit in bed, but you can hardly be cross. He’s sitting with you and keeping you safe. 

After all, that’s how you got hurt in the first place, he said. Falling off the bed like a silly little thing and cracking your head. 

Your dreams recall it quite differently. When you do dream, he’s there too. But he’s bigger. Scarier. And so angry. So, so angry. 

You always wake up before your head collides with the wall. 

Here, in the waking world, he holds you against his cold steel body. You’re inclined again to think he’s flesh underneath as warmth radiates from the leather and duraweave between the plates. He’s reading to you softly from a datapad since it still makes your head hurt when you try.

Which means he’s right there against you when it happens. You sit up, clutching your forehead. 

“What’s wrong?” he says.

“I don’t know,” you say through a dry, tacky mouth. Your head is pounding, and when you look at him, so is your heart. Not with love, that is, but with terror.

It must be written across your face because he stiffens.

“Who are you?” you whisper.

“Cyar’ika,” he says carefully, raising both hands as if he means no harm. “You had an accident. You’ve had a severe head injury. Your memories keep coming and going.”

You’ve heard this before. You don’t believe him this time.

“You know me. I’m your husband, Din.”

You shake your head, wincing. “I want the truth.” Because what’s undeniable now is that it wasn’t a dream. This bulking beast of a man had cornered you in an alley behind the cantina after your shift. 

He sighs, but there’s a new placating lilt to his voice when he responds. “Fine,” he murmurs, standing up. He comes around the bed and you back into the wall. Trapped. 

“You want the truth?” he says, voice low and sultry. Smug. His hand comes up to brush your cheek. “You need me, cyar’ika. You were out there all alone and scared. No one to care for you. No one to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me.”

“Hardly,” he scoffs. “You’ve always been mine. You just didn’t know it. But now that we’re together…”

He reaches into the many pouches around his waist and surfaces with a small syringe, the overhead light glinting off the needle’s shiny point. 

“We can do this one of two ways, cyar’ika. You can be good and do as I say. Or,” and he wiggles the needle in the air. “I can make sure you’re good. Either way, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #dark!din djarin #dark fic #dead dove fic #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday1 #din djarin x gn!reader #the mandalorian x gn!reader #mando x reader #mando x gn!reader #fic: din drabble #toni does febuwhump 2k24

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Helloooooo friend ❤️

For your 500 celebration, I am requesting a non vampire monster fucking fic with any Pedro Boy of your choosing 🙏🏼

(maybe something w tentacles maybe? not required tho whatever you want man love you)

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given.

Specific Warnings: Dubcon/noncon, phereomones, tentacles, bondage, mind-fuck, alien sex, alient tentacles, Mind break (if you squint), unprotectred PiV (WRAP IT UP) , anal, DP, sex talk. Let me know if I missed anything!

Taungsdays, am I right?

“Cyar’ika.” A far away voice calls to you but you can’t seem to make it out, the word means something to you. It’s a precious word, but you just don’t remember why.

“Cyar’ika, please. Wake up.” The voice is clearer now, you know it, but it’s weird, not quite right. It’s clearer than you’ve ever heard it, but who? Whose voice is that calling so sweetly to you in the darkness?

Then you hear your name, crystal clear, uninhibited by a modulator, and you squeeze your eyes closed. It’s Din, your Din, your Riduur. But something is wrong, his helmet is off.

“Din?” You try, but your voice comes out in a rasp as you realise how dry your mouth is.

“Praise the Maker, you’re alive.” Din’s unmodulated voice sounds strained, like he’s in pain. You try and move your limbs but you can’t. Panic sets in and you whimper as you keep your eyes shut, you will not breach Din’s creed, not for something as trivial as fear.

Feel for him, feel his energy.

You think to yourself, meditating on the thought, of the essence of your beloved. He’s close, so close, yet there is something else, something writhing in the space between you. You flex your fingers, opening and closing them rhythmically as you try and get some blood flowing through your body. You’re restrained by your ankles and wrists, suspended somehow.

“Din, what’s going on? Where’s your helmet?”

“It was taken, Cyar’ika, look at me.” Din cries out in pain, and the terror that grips your heart forces your eyes open. Your heart catches in your throat as you see him, naked, strung up by maroon vines. They writhe and squirm over his body, coiled around his neck, sliding over his tan skin. You look down to see his cock, erect and weeping as a thick vine slides over his tip, pulling his foreskin back. Din grunts, his beautiful face contorted in a mixture of pleasure and anger.

You feel anguish and hatred deep in your core as you realise you’ve just seen his face for the first time, and dank farrik is he beautiful. The facial hair you had only ever felt in the dark confines of his cot is patchy, but well kept, a strong moustache framing his top lip. His angular nose hooking slightly, and you remember how it feels to have it pressed into your hair as he wraps himself around you.

“Din.” You sob, tears streaming down your face as you meet his sorrowful eyes; deep dark pools of liquid caf, an apology written across them as his grief mirrors your own. This was not how this moment was supposed to play out, you were waiting for the right time. But it’s all wrong, ruined. A precious memory taken from you before it had chance to bloom.

“It’s ok Mesh’la, it’s not your fault.” His tone is soft, none of his usual curt, practiced stoicism. It’s the voice he uses when he makes love to you in the pitch black in his bed. The one for when your bodies wound so tightly it’s hard to know where you stop and he begins.

“What’s happening?” You ask as you look down to see yourself similarly restrained, the thick maroon vines tight around your wrists and ankles. You realise that you were wrong before in your assessment, they aren’t vines, they’re tentacles. They throb occasionally and you feel bile rising in your throat at the idea of being so vulnerable hits you.

“We’ve been ensnared by something, took us both by surprise. It’s been, ah, touching me since I woke a short while ago.”

As if on cue, the tentacles restraining you slither across your skin, hot and wet it almost feels good but you force the intrusive thought out of your mind. A long, bulbous-headed tentacle winds into view and you hear Din shout something but it’s drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. The tentacle peels open like a grotesque flower and a puff of silver powder spits into your face.

You splutter as the powder coats your skin, flows through your sinuses and sticks to your windpipe. It’s like being suffocated, the taste of bitter fruit and the smell of Spice drowning you as the tentacle recedes.

“What was that?”

“My guess? An aphrodisiac, they dosed me earlier and I’ve been stiffer than Beskar since.”

“Kriff, what are these things?”

You feel a stir of arousal wash through you and as a pair of tentacles snake up to your breasts, you want to feel disgusted, angry even. But the moment they curl around your stiff, pebbled nipples you cry out in pleasure.

“Din, I’m sorry.” You whimper as the slick, hot, swirling sensation reminds you of Din’s lips. It makes you imagine him on top of you, kneeling between your spread thighs in the dark, worshiping your body with his mouth and hands.

“It’s ok Cyar’ika, I feel it too.” Din’s voice is thick with strain as you watch a pair of tentacles work over Din’s thick length, another rolling over his tight balls. You’re jealous, jealous that it’s not you making him writhe against his restraints.

“Thinking of you, of us.”

“Let’s work through this together, talk to me Cyar’ika, let me know what you’re thinking about.”

“Thinking about how your mouth feels on my breasts, when you take my nipple in your mouth and suck, just right, like that.” You mewl as the tentacle seems to react to your words. It hardens and pinches at your stiff peak and you cry out, mouth agape as you feel slick drip down your legs.

“Yeah? Good, I’m thinking about that smart little mouth of yours, sucking my cock, cradling my balls, fuck, yes,” He groans your name and you whine at the sensation of a tentacle sliding between your legs. The length of it sliding through your slick folds as you twitch at the way it prods at your clit.

“Din, wish I could kiss you.”

“Me too Cyare, me too, just want to feel you, the real you.”

Then something changes in the atmosphere, a vibration ripples through your mind and you feel something sentient brush against your consciousness. You meet Din’s gaze and judging by the look on his face, he felt it too.

“Wait, these tentacles, I’ve seen something like this before.” You think aloud as you try and wrack your brain for information.

Before you can formulate a thought you feel another thrum of energy ripple through the air and the tentacles restraining you loosen and flex, bringing you together before letting go completely. You sob and fall into Din’s strong arms, he pulls you against him with a soft huff. His scent envelops you as your bodies press together desperately.

You feel a tentacle press against the base of your skull before a sharp pinprick of pain on your hairline. Suddenly a consciousness bleeds into your own and you see through the eyes of the creature, watching you and Din embrace, both with tentacles hinged to your spines.

“Din?”

“I’m here, I see it too.”

There’s a feeling ebbing and flowing through your minds, you can hear Din’s thoughts and you feel heat warm your cheeks as you feel like you’re intruding. Then you feel it, his consciousness poking back at yours, asking for entry, and you realise Din must have let you in. Your shame doused, you feel something stir deep in your chest.

You submit to his request and it’s like cold fire burning behind your eyelids, licking at your mind but not burning.

Then you both feel it, the pulsating intent of the creature as it gazes upon you and you think you finally understand what is happening.

“It’s a Marian,” You say without speaking, your thoughts bleeding across the psychic barrier between you, “Sometimes called a Bors.”

“They don’t usually uh, accost people like this though, right?”

“No, this is something strange, and I didn’t think Marian’s existed outside their home world.” Your mind wanders through the soup of three shared minds, wading through the freedom of being joined in such an intimate manner.

“Are you getting the same feeling I am?” Din asks as you absently leave open mouthed kisses against his chest, hands snaking up to dig your nails into the firm muscles of his back.

“It wants to fuck us, but wants us to fuck?”

“Mhm, you want that Cyare? Because I’m happy to go along with it if you are.”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice Din.” You huff as Din grinds his hips against you, his hard dick pressed into your stomach.

“No, but I’d much rather this be my choice, our choice, wouldn’t you?” He tilts your chin up with his thumb and forefinger. Your chest flutters with emotion as you let yourself gaze upon his face once again. This time there is no tug of shame, no sorrow. There is only joy, euphoria as you watch his cheeks dimple as he smiles down at you.

“Yes, I would, kiss me.” You reach up to cup din’s face with your hands, pulling him down into you as your lips fuse together.

Your mouth opens without prompt as you let him claim your mouth, his tongue hot and heavy as he licks into you. It’s as if you’d never kissed before, every synapse firing at full yolk as you groan into his mouth.

Din hoists you up like you’re featherlight and you wrap your legs around his waist as you thread your fingers through his hair. You tug lightly, causing Din to growl into your open mouth before nipping at your bottom lip. You yelp in pleasure laced with pain as he drops to his knees on the soft jungle floor, laying you down as he settles between your legs.

Tentacles wind around you both and you watch as they latch onto your nipples, curling around the stiff peaks as they pull and tug against them. You watch as a tentacle slides over Din’s body, nestling between his firm, pert ass cheeks. He shudders as the hot, sticky wetness teasing his tight asshole.

“This is new.” He grunts as he lines up at your core as you keep your hands on his face, savouring every moment of his exposed face.

“If you like it, we can try it out ourselves.” You wink at him as you feel a tentacle swirling around your own ass. Din has fucked your ass before so this wasn’t as daunting for you. You feel it breach your hole and you groan as Din follows suit, his cock stretching you out as you let out a strangled moan. You’re so full and you feel Din shake as he tenses up.

“Hey, Din, you’ve gotta relax,” You croon as you pull him down, your foreheads pressed together, you press a soft his to his lips as you rub your thumbs across his cheeks, “Focus on me, let go, fuck me baby, it’s alright.”

“Cyare, I’m sorry I can’t hold back.”

“It’s ok, use me, fill me up and make me scream Din.” You beg, already feeling your mind fogging over with bliss as you’re filled up and a tentacle comes to toy with your clit, the suction blinding as you pull Din down to kiss you as he lets out an animalistic snarl; his teeth clashing with yours as he fucks down into you with a fervour saved for nights where you’re blindfolded and bound to the side of the cargo hold, completely at his mercy.

“I love you Din, love it when you let go like this.” You breathe as you pull away, watching as his pupils dilate, his mouth open and hot breath fanning across your cheeks.

“Kar'taylir darasuum, Cyare.” He grunts as his face drops to your neck, his strong arms pushing your legs up against your chest. His broad palms anchored on the backs of your knees as he fucks deeper inside you. You cry out as the tentacle in your ass matches his pace. His teeth graze your skin before sucking against your sweat-soaked skin.

“Fuck it’s so deep.” Din grunts as his grip tightens on your legs, fucking harder and faster as you watch the tentacle inside him pulse and move in sync with all of your bodies. It’s all consuming, your mind and body unable to parse anything but the feeling of you all entwined.

“Din,” You whimper as your body trembles violently, “Going to come.”

“Come for me Cyare, let me feel you choke my cock.” He grunts, as you feel his hips stuttering as he nears his own release.

The pressure on your clit doubles and you are left mouth agape as your nipples are twisted and lapped at and the tentacle in your ass ripples rhythmically. You lace your hands through Din’s hair once more as you press your forehead to his, your mind going blank as you feel yourself coming hard around Din’s cock.

“Din.” You practically scream as he comes inside your pussy, the tentacle spurts into your ass, and you feel Din shudder as you know his ass is now filled with Mairan come much like your own. Din flops down on top of you, practically crushing you as you wrap yourself around him with all of your limbs.

The tentacles recede into the rainforest around you and the sound of nocturnal birds and insects chorus around you as the ethereal silence is broken.

“Are you ok?” Din breathes into your neck as you both pant heavily.

“Surprisingly, yeah, that was, something else.” You giggle and trace shapes over his bare back.

“That’s one way to put it.” He chuckles into your ear as he nips your lobe tenderly.

That’s when the fatigue hits you, Din falls forwards abruptly, forcing the air out of your lungs but before you can fight back you’re out cold.

----

The sound of the air recyclers wakes you slowly, a familiar, mundane sound that you usually tune out. You jolt upright and assess your surroundings, you’re back on the Gauntlet, in the co-pilot’s chair. You’re fully clothed and you look over to see Din, fully clad in Beskar, seemingly still asleep. You look out of the Transparisteel cockpit to see the rainforest outside, exactly where you had landed before you got ambushed.

Din wakes with a jolt and immediately springs to his feet, drawing his blaster in a swift motion as his visor scours his surroundings before landing firmly on you.

“Din?”

“Cyare?”

You throw yourself against his Beskar breastplate, ignoring the sting of the harsh metal on your skin. Din wraps his arms around you in a crushing embrace but you don’t care. All you care about is that you were together.

“So that wasn’t just a dream then?” Din’s modulated voice is a strange comfort after the events of your tentacle encounter.

“No, are you ok?” You ask, not daring to pull away from Din, you can’t bear being parted for him for even a minute.

“Yeah, was actually pretty liberating,” He chuckles as he rests the chin of his helmet on your head, “What about you?”

“I’m strangely ok, for unintended sexual encounters that was the best of them.”

“And ours isn’t the top of that list?”

“Din, you may have been oblivious to my very obvious advances on you, but I definitely intended to fuck you that night on Corellia.”

“Good point.” Din admits with a hum that rumbles though your chest.

There’s a comfortable silence for some time, the two of you swaying to a silent melody as the light bleeds through the night sky. There’s something unspoken, a deeper connection left as a remnant of the psychic connection with the Mairan which excites you and makes your chest flutter.

“So, that offer, about trying the uh, butt stuff, ourselves, is that still on the table?” Din asks as he lets out a nervous laugh. You lean back, only enough to look up into his visor, pinning his body to yours as you try to discern if he was joking or not.

“I meant what I said.”

“Good, I’ll hold you to that.” Din lets out a soft huff of air as he pulls you back against him. The Beskar is now warm from your body heat and you lean into it.

“But din?”

“Hmm?”

“We need to get some lube.”

He growls affectionately and hoists you over his shoulder before heading towards the crew quarters. You kick and scream with abandon as you feign a struggle against his firm grip.

You smile to yourself as you try and process the bizarre turn of events.

Taungsdays, am I right?

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! @wannab-urs @beefrobeefcal @proxima-writes @beskarandblasters @blackfemalenerd

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[chaotic-iguana]

Twisted Love

summary: as we know, im a bit of a gremlin. i take ur asks and fucking add my own spin. here we are. its like a “joel edges reader, reader accidentally comes” with SUPER dark twists. let me know what you think. feel free to (gently) yell at me because honestly @breakfastatjoels is the only reason i decided to post (love you dee)

pairing: dark! joel x reader

wordcount: 2.3k

warnings: survivalism, dubcon, dark!joel, edging, dom/sub dynamics, pussy slapping, very out of my comfort zone writing this, stockholm syndrome, this joel is everything husband joel is not. hes a dick please dont acc be in these kinds of relationships, swearing (no bc me being a smartass and adding swearing as if its worse than STOCKHOLM SYNDROME), choking, slapping, passing out and keep going, somno? i think?, dacryphilia, he’s a genuine fucking asshole

A/N: please be warned that this is not a vanilla smut fic, it follows some super dark themes. unlike my other fics, no “soft” joel, or aftercare; no checking in or wiping tears. also forewarning, i do not support relationships that are in fact like this. i am not glorifying sa or abuse. dont want any anons in my inbox tearing me a new one. 

masterlist // navigation

Four hours. You’d been tied to the bed spreadeagle for four hours. Your wrists and ankles had chafed, you’d nearly lost your voice, and you couldn’t seem to stop trembling.

Joel had one hand on your stomach, pressing down, and another between your legs, bringing you to orgasm after orgasm only to pull away at the last second to watch you buck your hips into thin air, chasing friction, as your high ebbed away again. And then he would start again. And again. And again.

By now, you were gone. Your mind had long been wiped clean of coherent thought. Broken moans and whines escaped you as you tried to beg despite having seemingly forgotten the ability to articulate yourself - you could barely manage short gasps of breath in between sobs; words were proving to be near-impossible. 

A dizzying chant of Joel, Joel, Joel, took up your mind as he wrenched his fingers out of you once again, just a second too late to accomplish what he wanted. No; in your desperate, hyper-sensitive state, that split second alone was enough to send you into a  spiral: toes-curling, back-arching and your breath coming in sharp gasps as an orgasm that had your vision whiting out for a few seconds washes over you.

Joel glared down at you, the vision barely registering to you past the buzz of euphoria, eyes rolling back as reality faded away. He gripped your jaw then, snapping you out of the daze by bringing a hand down on your cunt, repeatedly striking the sensitive folds, the painful sting heightened by your orgasm. 

 At the pitiful groans of protest and the way your legs contorted against the bindings to fall into themselves; instinct taking over to protect you from his merciless assault, he rolled his eyes with a huff. 

“Y’gonna be a brat? Be a fuckin’ brat. ‘M not wastin’ my time on a girl that can’t behave.” 

Snapping his switchblade open, he leaned down to rip through your restraints before turning and walking out of the room without another word.

That had been a week ago. You had spent an hour curled in on yourself, numb in disbelief that he’d just left. You hadn’t meant to go against his wishes, your body had just taken over and practically pushed you over the edge. You knew the deal-  of course you did, it was seared into your fucking mind- it’s what kept you alive. 

It was an offer he had spat at you with a blade pressed to your neck, a decree that signed your body over to him. He’d let you live and keep you alive, and in return all you had to do was obey him; be his “good little girl”, as he put it. All you had to do in exchange for your safety was listen to him, do what he told you to. 

A paralyzing fear had gripped you since that day you had accidentally defied him, death looming over your head like a guillotine you couldn’t quite see just yet but knew was inevitably coming. 

You’d hated the arrangement at first, resisting it; resisting him. But once he had made it abundantly clear that there was no way for you to leave, nowhere you could go, you found yourself fighting back less. Life had already been so long, taken so much from you already. You’d never have to worry again. He’d keep you safe. Despite his inherent brutality, he took care of you; more care than anyone else had taken since the world went to shit. He made sure you ate enough, slept in better spots, showers. When you had nightmares, he’d set a bruising pace against you and rut until your head emptied of every thought but his. 

Your disdain for him faded over time, and you began craving him. You wanted him under your skin, you wanted to feel him and nothing else, to be reduced to a mindless mess as damp sheets clung to your skin. Wanted his bites and bruises, wanted his grip on your thighs, your waist, your neck. Slowly, you wanted him. A twisted love characterised by dizzying need for him to rip you apart and put you back together infected your mind. To be with you, hold you, praise you. And you were perfect for him as a result, wanting nothing but to keep him happy. 

He, however, hadn’t so much as looked at you all week. If he said anything, it was bit out in your general direction as an afterthought; an inconvenience. It was like he’d stopped caring where you were, how you were. Pent up and needing him, needing to feel the scrapes of his callouses against your skin, his teeth nipping your flesh, you simply endured it all fearfully. Your arrangement had gone on long enough that you genuinely did not know if he would follow through - but you’d seen enough of what he was capable of not to risk it. You may have your own infatuation with the man, but you weren’t stupid. When he stood jaw clenched, shoulders tense, and with that crazed glint in his eye, you did not speak to him; your self-preserving habit of pointing out his tells blaring at you to run. If you so much as stepped too close to him on days like these, you’d see how blown out his pupils were, how his face was set in an expression that made it difficult to identify him, before he’d pin you to the nearest wall and use his mouth, fingers, cock, blade handle, beer bottle and makeshift toys on you until you passed out, and then he’d keep going until exhaustion overtook him. Which, for a man that size, often took over a day. 

So you settled for trying your best to impress him. Wore that dress he liked, did your hair in a ponytail because you knew it made his fingers itch to tug at it, painted your lips with a shadow of red and just followed him like a lost puppy, without stopping or complaining once. Didn’t matter how many gashes you got on your hands and knees from getting your foot caught on sharp edges or rocks he didn’t warn you of anymore, didn’t matter how hungry or thirsty you were with him neglecting to pass the canteen back to you, didn’t matter how badly his biting comments hurt you or how many tears filled your eyes, you followed him without complaint.  

But it had been a week, and your resolve had started to break. If he was going to kill you, he had to do it now. The buildup, the constant fear, the desperation to impress him, the cuts and bruises now littering your body, the hungry ache in your stomach - they all reached a point where your knees just buckled, and you just couldn’t. Joel was ahead of you, still trudging on without so much as glancing in your direction, not even after the pathetic wail that sounded from you as you fell to your knees. Gasping out his name, wincing at the rasp of your voice from the disuse, you watched his steps falter as he looked at you over his shoulder, and kept walking. 

“No, no, no, please Joel, please.” Tears began streaming down your face, your body shaking with the force of the devastation sweeping through you as you began crawling after him. This made him stop and turn, brow raised and mouth set in a cruel smile as he took in your form. He took slow, deliberate strides to where you lay on the ground, elbows given out, and looked down at you. 

“Please, what?” His dark eyes were glittering as he smirked at you, watching you crumble before his very eyes. 

“No more. ‘M sorry, I’m so sorry I won’t ever go against what you say again. Didn’t mean to come - it just happened n’ I couldn’t stop it. I’ve been so good for years, Joel. I’m s-sorry, please I’m so sorry.” Cheeks burning hot with humiliation, you could barely meet his gaze as you began begging the man you’d sworn to kill when you first met him. Begged him to take care of you, to forgive you. 

He crouched low, reaching a hand out to tip your chin up and meet your eyes. 

“Need me?” A jeering, boisterous laugh. “Do ya, now?” At your nod, he snorted. “You forget who’s in control -once, just once - I fuckin’ leave you then and there. Clear?” Another nod. “Take what I give you this time.” Not a question, but you find yourself nodding feverishly anyways, making his lips twitch as he grasped you and lifted you into his arms the rest of the way. 

Joel spotted a cabin while trudging through the rough terrain, your hands around his neck and torso flush against his chest as you hung limp in his arms, half-asleep. Deciding to settle there for the night, he barely took a minute to scout the place out before he was making his way to the bedroom. He dropped you onto the bed before turning to strip his flannel and trousers off. Watching you blink in confusion as you started to wake up, he scoffed, tangling a hand in your hair, flipping you onto yoru back, and yanking your head to the edge of the bed. 

Giving you no time to brace yourself, Joel shoved the blunt head of his cock between your lips, working your jaw open as he starting using your mouth. One of hands came to rest on your exposed neck, putting enough pressure to feel himself moving in and out of your throat, while the other gripped the edge of the bed next to your head, intermittently coming up to slap your tits, your stomach, your thighs - anywhere he could reach. The sounds of your garbled choking and gasping filled the room, Joel using your mouth like a fleshlight. 

Refusing you a single second of reprieve to get your breath, he kept rocking his hips until you were lightheaded and there were spots in your vision, consciousness fading. When he glanced down and realised you were about to pass out, he pulled himself flush against your mouth and stayed there, drool and spit spluttering from your nose as you struggled to accommodate him, struggling against him until you blacked out. 

When you came to, you were lying on your stomach, hair still in Joel’s grip and head held back. Your hands were tied to the headboard in front of you with the underwear you had been wearing all day, and his fingers were bruising your waist in his grip as he pounded into you from behind. 

You could feel that you had lost some time. Come and blood streaked all over your jaw, neck and chest, and you could feel some drying on your back, thighs and stomach as well. Moreover, you were drenched. Covered from head to toe in a mixture of blood, sweat, saliva and cum. You could see skin on your chest and stomach swollen and red, broken by his teeth, which had left permanent indents into the flesh. Blinking steadily, you realised that the sun was up, the room bathed in the first few rays of dawn. 

“Welcome back, sweetheart.” His rasp from behind you had a shudder dancing down your spine, straightening up slightly. You could barely sob your response - the new angle had your eyes rolling back, and you could feel yourself being jolted up the bed by the sheer force of his thrusts into you. 

Feeling the muscles of your stomach tense, you hardly had the rationality to start babbling a half-understandable “Gonna cum, ‘m g-mmh-cum,” before feeling him shift his hand on your hip to move it between your legs, swiping over your clit with just enough pressure to bring you to your peak - before he leaned down to snarl into your ear. 

“Don’t come.” At your whimper, he laughed. “Y’wanna live? Be good f’me? Don’t you dare fucking come.” You felt your muscles lock up, a pitiful whine leaving your mouth as you staved off your orgasm, tensing so hard against it that your whole body hurt. Your legs were shaking with the force of holding off, and you felt Joel smile into your shoulder in approval before he moved his arm under your thigh, lifting it as the strength of his hips snapping into yours increased, making you scream when his fingers returned to your folds. 

He reveled in the wails that were piercing the silence of the room, at the force with which you began convulsing in the effort to obey him. Sucking a bruise into the skin behind your ear, he let you suffer for a few more plunges of his tip into your cervix until he felt his own climax fast approaching, uttering a permissive “Come,” until you were gripping him so hard his vision whited out for a few moments. Watching your hand come around to the back of his head, body trembling as you moaned low and near-pained next to him, he stayed inside you for a few seconds before pulling out and stepping into his jeans immediately, watching you collapse onto the bed from overexertion. 

He just reached across the bed to twist a particularly large bruise between his index finger and thumb, savoring your squeak of fear and the tears streaming down your face. 

“Best get cleaned up quick. We gotta lot’a ground to cover today.” And with that, he was walking out again. At least this time, you knew he’d keep you around. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore , @evyiione , @breakfastatjoels  , @millerscoffee dividers by @cafekitsune!! cover by the AMAZING @pedrosaidsheispunk. what a LEGEND. 

#tlou fanfiction #the last of us x reader #the last of us #tlou hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #din djarin #dark joel miller #dark joel x reader #dom joel miller #joel miller au #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller self insert #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #dark! joel miller x reader #dark! joel miller smut #dark!joel

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

I Love You, Cyar'ika

Dark!Din Djarin x Jedi!Female Reader

Warnings: corruption arc, violent murder but not described in depth, possessive behavior, obsession, loss and anxiety, light smut, manhandling of the reader by Din

Word Count: 4,500

Summary: Din Djarin is a man who lost everything. His home, his son, his Creed. But at the end of the day, he still had you. He still had you, and he was determined to keep you. Sequel to 'Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika'

.

"i am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me."

.

It wasn’t until the second half of your first hour trapped that you realized the chain around your ankle wasn’t just metal. It was beskar. The links branched together were long enough to allow you to walk to the neighboring bathroom, but not long enough to reach the door out. The horror of your situation was truly settling into your very soul. Din had locked you away. Din. The man you loved. And the worst part, as if any of this could possibly be worse, was the fact that he only knew you had tried to run away hours ago.

When exactly did he have this chain made?

You spent the rest of your morning trying to rip the chain out of the wall where it was connected to no avail, and when that didn’t work you somehow tried to pull your ankle out of the clasp. It was impossible. The clasp was just tight enough on your skin that you would not be slipping it unless you started considering something much more dramatic, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. You tugged and screamed until your ankle was discolored and your throat was raw.

Then you broke. Quite some time ago, before your extensive Jedi training, you had quite the temper. It took years for you to get a handle on controlling it, but these last few months the frustration and worry had slowly whittled down your very being. So, for the first time in a very long time, you threw a tantrum. You knocked over the nightstand by your bed, hurling every single item you could reach, and destroyed everything that was in your path. 

When you were spent, exhausted from the emotional and physical turmoil, you slumped against the wall panting for breath. Your legs splayed out in front of you so you could glare at the beskar that wrapped around your ankle. You felt so pathetic and vulnerable. It didn’t help that you only wore your undergarments and one of Din’s shirts. It had been what you fell asleep in last night while curled up to the man who chained you to a wall.

The bedroom door opened and Din froze in the doorway. You watched his eyes scan the room in shock before they landed on you. He let out a breath of disbelief, “Cyar’ika.”

“I don’t think I want you to call me that right now.” You said.

Din’s shoulders slumped and he had the audacity to look hurt at your words. As if he hadn’t chained you to a fucking wall. He stepped into the room and shrugged out of his robe⏤ tossing it onto the bed as he neared. Din’s eyes landed on your ankle and his eyes widened. “Me’bana!?” He knelt down to take hold of your ankle, but you tried to pull your legs in to avoid his touch. Din, refusing your refusal, grabbed you by the calf and dragged you toward him.

“Get off!” You barked and kicked out at him. 

Din pinned you to the floor using his weight to keep your hips down and a hand to pin your wrists above your head. The emotion on his face as he stared down at you was not one of anger or even frustration. It was desperate. “Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself. Dank farrik, you already have. Don’t make it worse.”

“You think I care?” You spat your words at him, squirming. “I don’t! I’ll do what I have to if it means⏤”

Din’s other hand snapped up to grab you by the jaw. His fingers pressed into your cheek, not painful but firm, and his face darkened. Anger finally seeped into his features. “I said, stop. I know you’re upset, I know you’re angry with me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you hurt yourself.” You sucked in a sharp breath when he leaned down to rest his forehead against yours. Hand still on your jaw. Din’s eyes closed as he spoke. “You are going to sit still while I take care of you. Understand? This is not up for debate, cyar’ika.”

You didn’t respond. Refused to. Din let out a soft sigh before releasing your jaw and wrists. He sat up and pulled his weight off of you. Slowly, you sat up and chose to just sit there. He pulled his gloves off, tossing them aside in the mess you had already made of the room, and with a tender touch he pulled your leg into his lap. Din’s warm fingers shifted the beskar so he could peer at the skin beneath it. He hissed at the sight of your already forming bruises⏤ the discoloration would be worse tomorrow.

“Cyar’ika⏤”

“I said don’t call me that.”

Din shook his head. “Why would you do this to yourself?”

“Myself?” You scoffed. “You’re the one who put me in chains, Din!”

“To keep you⏤”

“Safe?” You finished for him, but you spat the word bitterly. Din wilted and continued to carefully trace your sore skin. It bothered you that his touch brought you comfort, but that wasn’t something you could just turn off. “When did you have this chain made, Din?” He didn’t reply. “It’s made of beskar. You didn’t just swing out and pick it up. You had it made. When did you⏤”

“Three weeks ago.” Din kept his eyes downcast, glued to your ankle. You took in a sharp breath. It would have been less painful, less shocking, if Din had just reached out and slapped you. Three weeks ago? How long did he have this planned? His warm brown eyes met yours⏤ a gaze you had always been weak to. Your face must have shown your betrayal because Din squeezed your calf softly. “I never planned to use it. I never wanted to use it.”

“But you did.” You mumbled the words out.

Din winced. “I know, cyar’ika. I know. I’m sorry. You will never understand how sorry I am⏤ I will spend the rest of my life trying to remind you. I⏤” He sighed and his thumb traced lazy circles against your skin where it sat. “More than anything though, my love, I need to protect you. I cannot lose you. I wouldn’t survive that.”

“You’re losing me right now, baby.” You shook your head. Tears springing up. “You’re breaking my heart, you’re losing my trust⏤” Din squeezed his eyes shut. Pained and devastated. “How do you think this will end?”

“You will understand. One day.” Din said firmly. He spoke like he was trying to convince himself of this. “Until then, I am just doing what is necessary.” Din rose to find the first aid kit and when he returned you just stared at him. He knelt down once more and wrapped padding around your ankle so the metal wasn’t touching bare skin anymore. When he was satisfied with how it looked, he carefully held your arms and pulled you up to stand. Din cupped your face with his hands, setting a tender kiss on the top of your head before choosing to rest his forehead against yours. “I love you, cyar’ika.”

This wasn’t love, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that.

The only times you were unchained from the wall was when you were with Din. He’d take your hand in his and the two of you would wander down the halls or outside of the castle. Always two Mandalorian guards lingering behind you both. You had one arm looped through Din’s. His thick robe draped over your shoulders once more. 

“Bo thinks offering an olive branch would make us seem weak. I’m inclined to agree with her.” Din thought aloud. Most of these walks were him talking to you about his day. You didn’t offer much more than the occasional hum or a snide comment if he pressed too hard. That’s what two weeks of being chained like an animal could do to you. “We have more power than them. It wouldn’t be too difficult to overtake them.”

You hummed. Din glanced down at you and his arm squeezed around yours. There was hope shining in his eyes as if he was eager to hear you offer any sort of commentary. You focused your gaze forward. “The Din I fell in love with wouldn’t jump head first into a war.” His steps stuttered. “He’d try for peace.”

“Cyar’ika.” Din came to a slow stop and turned to face you. His other hand lifted to rest on yours. It trapped your hand against his forearm. “I am the man you fell in love with. That has not changed.” Your eyes darted down to the darksaber hanging from his belt. Din sighed. “This is still about the saber?”

You shook your head. “It always will be. That damned saber has changed you.”

“It hasn’t⏤”

“It has!” You yanked your arm away from his and took a step back. Anger flaring once more. “I keep telling you. It’s poison.” The energy that surrounded it felt suffocating, but it had only gotten worse these last few days. The possession was still there and now it’s tendrils seemed to be trying to seep out into your very soul. As if it could convince you that it had good intentions. “It’s me or the darksaber, Din.” 

He shook his head and you shoved him once in the chest. He barely stumbled back. The Mandalorian guards leapt forward, hands on their weapons in preparation to take out the threat against their King, but Din threw his arm out to stop them. The glare he leveled in their direction was deadly. They both took sheepish steps away. Din focused back on you and the anger in his eyes dissipated back into despair. “You can’t make me choose.” He sighed. “We’ve talked about this. I need the darksaber to keep you safe.”

“We’re just going to argue in circles forever, aren’t we?” You sighed.

Din stepped closer and caressed your face. He leaned in to capture you in a kiss, but you turned at the last second so his lips pressed against your cheek instead. Since the morning you woke up with a beskar anklet, you hadn’t let Din touch you. The first night he slipped into bed behind you, just to sleep, and you had lost your mind. Now, he slept on the small couch that was pushed against the wall in your living space. He pulled back enough that his lips were no longer touching you, but he didn’t stray far.

“I love you, cyar’ika.”

He truly believed it, but obsession⏤ possession⏤ was not love.

At the month mark, you knew things needed to change. Din was too stubborn to concede. He’d keep you chained to that fucking wall forever. So, you started small. You had to play this smart. It began with little things like thanking him when he brought you food or new gifts. Choosing to participate in conversations when the two of you went on walks around the palace. A lingering touch here and there when you were able, and you never shied away from his own touch.

Still, a sudden change in demeanor would give you away. Din, as blinded as he was by the darksaber, was not an idiot. He’d see through your act in seconds, and the fate of his and your life depended on deceiving him. You had to get off this rock. You had to get to help. After thinking about it long and hard, you decided you needed to get to Skywalker. The other Jedi were your best bet. It was just a matter of getting there.

Oddly, your saving grace came in the form of an attack.

Because Din never kept you fully in the loop of the things happening in Mandalore, you weren’t entirely sure what was happening. Being chained to the wall when the explosions started did not help either. For the first fifteen minutes of the disaster all you could do was stand in place, frozen, while straining to listen. Eventually, the explosions stopped, but it was replaced with yelling and thundering footsteps. Not a good sign. As it got closer and closer you searched the room for a weapon or hiding the place. You wouldn’t fit under the bed and even if you hid in the bathroom there would be a chain lying on the floor leading straight to you.

The yelling came right out the door and you didn’t even have time to register the language or tone before the door itself was kicked open. Pirates. That was your best guess. Three men dressed for a fight stepped into your space. Two humans and one Trandoshan. They spoke a language you didn’t recognize, something from the Outer Rims, but even when addressing you they never swapped to Basic. One of the humans took a step closer, smirking, and you shifted to a ready stance. The last time you had felt so ill prepared for a fight was back when you first began your Jedi training. 

Even on a good day, back before Din spiraled into his current state, you were not good at using the Force. Reading energies was your strength, but healing and telekinesis was never your forte. Now? Being as stressed and buried in negative energy as you were, it was nearly non-existent. Every day you spent around the  darksaber you felt further from the Force for some Maker forsaken reason. The Force you recognized, at least.

The Trandoshan began to rummage through the room scavenging, but the two human men were still approaching you. They laughed and motioned to the chain around your ankle as they spoke to one another. Cautiously, you took a few steps back so the chain’s tension wouldn’t accidentally catch you. When the first man lunged you met him halfway with an uppercut into his throat. It was a blur of muscle memory and desperation from then. You weren’t doing well, you were surviving, but when one of the men got their hands on the chain they were able to pull your legs out from under you. 

You roughly landed on your back with a grunt, but the other man was quick to pin you down. You thrashed and screamed trying to get loose, but the other just piled on. Their voices were grating, their laughs sent chills down your spine, and their touch made you nauseous. It all boiled into an uncontrollable rage that slipped from your body with a roar. Suddenly, both men were blown clear across the room. You sat up, breathing hard, and glanced down at your hands. Had you just…? There was no time to puzzle through the power that just flowed from you because the Trandoshan leapt across the room to tackle and pin you back to the floor. 

He didn’t have a firm grip on you, and you were able to flip over on him. The victory was short lived when he threw his elbow back, crushing your nose, and you cried out in pain before falling back. The other two men had risen once more, but all of you froze at the terrible roar that echoed down the hall and filled the room with a suffocating tension. It called out your name. You recognized that voice. 

In that one moment, a feral pleasure gripped your soul and allowed your anger to roam free. You grinned up at the men, teeth bloody from your broken nose, “You’re fucked.”

Din stalked into the room, seconds later, and he was possessed by his own rage. The darksaber glowed in his hands, as bright as a burning flame, and it cast terrifying shadows across his face which was twisted in hatred⏤ in bloodlust. With the first swing of the saber, the men knew they were not going to bode well and they began to plead, but their words fell on deaf ears. You watched as Din tore them to shreds, a force to be reckoned with, and a sick grin flickered across your features before you could reign it back. Din was leaving the men in literal pieces, brutal in his attack and inflicting the most terror and pain he could manage before taking a life, and you felt a bubbling pleasure building in your chest.

It was only when his warpath was finished, when he deactivated the saber, that your smile fell. The tendrils of pleasure that had seeped into your very soul with watching the love of your life murder on your behalf slipped away. You took in a sharp breath. What the fuck was that? Why the fuck had you⏤ Your hands began to tremble followed quickly by the rest of your body.

“Cyar’ika.” Din gasped and crossed through the carnage to pull you off the ground and into his arms. His panicked words all came out in a rush of Mando’a before he was calm enough to ask once more in Basic. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” His gloves wiped away the blood as he examined your nose. “Are you⏤”

“I’m fine.” You replied shakily, but you felt far from it. Physically, there was nothing wrong. Not really. Your nose would heal, the bruises you garnered in the fight would fade. But mentally, spiritually, emotionally… Your eyes drifted down to the darksaber on his belt. What was it doing to you? It took a moment to realize Din was still talking. You shook your head. “What?”

“I said that was the last of them. They came for revenge, but most of the damage was external. Only a few small groups got into the palace.” Din’s hands were petting your hair. Between every word of comfort he’d lean forward and press his lips to your face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Focus. Focus. Back to the plan. Back to your mission.

“No.” You swallowed roughly. “I need the chain off.” Din didn’t respond. He just stared at you with wide eyes filled with the fear of a man who had nearly lost the person he swore to protect. You lifted your hands to cup his face and you shook your head. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re not losing me. I’m not losing you. You were right.” You pushed the words out and the tears that fell from your eyes were painfully real. You cried for how lost you felt. It was like you were stuck in quicksand and the more you struggled the deeper you were pulled to it’s dark depths. “I was so scared. I couldn’t fight back. Din⏤”

Din didn’t hesitate. He knelt down and pulled a key from the pouch in his belt to unclasp the metal around your ankle. Hearing it clatter to the ground, feeling the weight drop off, had you sucking in a breath of shock and relief. Din slowly rose once more and you found yourself lost in his eyes⏤ those pretty brown eyes that made you forget every single worry you had. The warm brown eyes that brought you comfort in your lowest moments. The loving brown eyes that gazed at you in worship. 

“Stay with me.” You mumbled and cupped his face again.

Din turned his head to press a kiss against your hand. “I’m not going anywhere, cyar’ika.”

Your fingers tightened around him and a shuddering sob left your lips. “Do you love me?” Din looked affronted by the question. His mouth fell open, but you cut him off. “Baby, just listen, if you love me you’ll put the saber away for tonight.” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and a hiccup left your lips. “Please, baby, just tonight. I just want you. I want only you.”

Din took a slow breath and then took a step out from your grasp. Fear struck you at first, but Din simply crossed the room to his locked chest which sat in the corner. Slowly, he unlatched each piece of his armor and set it carefully into the chest. When he was left with only his flight suit, Din grasped the darksaber and held it in his bare hand for a moment. Finally, he set it into the chest and closed it. The cursed item was just tucked away, out of sight, but it still made a difference. The unrecognizable dark energy that had been plaguing you seemed to disperse and a familiar sensation filled your chest. It was the Force you recognized. For the first time in a month, you felt like you could breathe.

He walked back to where you stood and settled a soft and hesitant hand on the side of your face, “I do love you, cyar’ika. I know this has been difficult and you haven’t been happy.” Din looked heartbroken as he stared down at you. “But you are everything to me.”

This may have started as just a plan to ease him into a lull of security, but that had been forgotten as you stared up at him. For this one second you felt like yourself, and Din felt like himself. A swell of love overwhelmed you and you pushed closer to capture his lips with yours. Din sighed into the kiss, but before you could deepen it he pulled back. “Din?”

“We don’t have to do this, cyar’ika.” Din whispered. “You were just attacked, stressed, and⏤ This⏤ This isn’t… I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“I don’t.” You shook your head and it was the absolute truth. Right now, Din felt like the man you loved. Maybe it was weak of you to cave, weak of you to seek out his comfort, but you missed him. You craved him. “I want you, and as long as you want me⏤”

Din brought his lips back to yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck, as he softly kissed you. Every minute movement filled with adoration. You wrapped your arms around his neck to draw yourself closer to him. Pulling back to catch a breath, he left a trail of kisses up your jaw to your ear. “Cyar’ika, I always want you.” His hands settled on your hips to bring you flush against him. “I always need you.”

Your hands grew frantic wanting nothing more than to feel his skin against yours. Just like in a fight, you didn’t need to think. Loving him was muscle memory. You peeled the upper half of his flight suit off his body and he took gasping breaths as you broke away from his kiss to caress the scarred skin of his torso. Your nails lightly raked over the skin overlying his ribs as you leaned in to press soft kisses against every scar you could find. Din trembled at your touch, a breathless gasp tearing ragged from his lips. 

His own hands lifted to tilt your face up so he could lean down and start a tender kiss. Every slow, languid motion was one born of love rather than lust. There was an innocence to the brushes of skin against skin, and for this one moment nothing existed but you and Din. Not the poisonous darksaber buried in a chest or the corpses of the men that meant you harm. As Din picked you up and pinned you into the bed, his weight pressing into you, all that mattered was Din Djarin.

“I love you, cyar’ika.” Din murmured into the skin of your neck⏤ his face buried there as his hands roamed your body with a familiarity born of routine. “I love you so much, cyar’ika.”

Your heart felt so full, and you wondered if you were the one confused on the extent of what the word love could mean.

Din laughed and you lightly shoved him in the side.

“It’s not funny. Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you, cyar’ika.” He replied as you grinned. “I’m laughing with you.”

“Yeah, I’m not laughing, you ass.”

He continued to chuckle and you shook your head before looping your arm back through his and leaning against him. Mandalore had been relatively calm since the attack two weeks ago, and you had never felt closer to Din. What had you been so worried about? The two of you were safe and had one another. That was all that mattered at the end of the day. You had misjudged the darksaber’s energy. That possession was just another form of loyalty. It brought you and Din the strength to protect one another. A bond. That’s all it was.

“My Mand’alor.”

Din’s feet paused, bringing you to a stop as well, and you both turned to face a Mandalorian who now knelt before the both of you. The woman held a hand across her chest in pledge. Din didn’t motion for the woman to rise, but hummed for her to continue. 

“Our allies who have settled on Concordia are requesting aid currently. Raiders have been plaguing them the last few weeks, but now they are beginning to edge in on the main settlement.”

“Concordia has the means to defend itself...” Din replied.

You squeezed his arm and he glanced down at you. You shook your head. “Concordia is not Mandalore, they’re just allies that⏤ like you said⏤ have their own resources.” Nonchalantly, you shrugged. “We have to protect our own. Any aid we offer to them is taken from our own walls. Our city should come first, Din.”

Din lifted your hand to plant a kiss on the back of it. “Could not have said it better myself, cyar’ika.” He motioned for the Mandalorian to be on her way before the two of you continued down the hall. Only a few yards later, Din chuckled. “I have a gift for you.”

“Oh, do you?” You asked with a smirk.

He pulled you to a stop once more “Close your eyes.” 

“Really?”

Din raised an eyebrow at you and you playfully rolled your eyes before closing them and holding your hands out. You heard the sound of shuffling as Din moved. A beat later something warm settled in your palms and you sucked in a sharp breath at the overwhelming flood of emotions that bared down on you. Your eyes opened to first see Din’s excited and loving smile, but then your gaze drifted down to the lightsaber in your open hands. 

“I figure it’s about time you’re reunited.” Din chuckled. It had been nearly two months since it had been taken from you. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple. Your fingers slowly closed around the hilt you had built with love so long ago, and waves of warmth radiated down your arms and into your chest. “I⏤” A different voice called out and Din sighed in irritation. “One moment.”

Din stepped around you to address whoever had called out for him and you just stared and stared at the lightsaber. Possession and obsession was not love. It was not the same as loyalty and protection. You blinked in shock as the clear thoughts cut through the fog you hadn't even realized you were living in. You had been yourself, but for some reason your priorities had changed starkly. Not for some reason. One reason. That fucking saber.

"Hey." Din returned to your side and you heard panic in his voice. Those dark tendrils from the saber surrounded you, but could not sink in. He set his hand on your face and his thumb caressed your cheek. "You're crying."

"I...I'm happy." You lied. "Thank you, Din."

"Of course." Din replied though he looked hesitant to believe you. He leaned in to press a kiss between your eyes. "I love you, cyar'ika."

You loved him, and you almost lost yourself.

But, not again.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #female reader #reader insert #dark!din djarin #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader

[beskarandblasters]

A Touch So Innocent

Virgin Stalker!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: I just posted a one shot yesterday but last night @amanitacowboy sent me this post by @mechamedusa and I was ✨inspired✨ so enjoy!

Summary: Din has been saving himself for the right person for a long time. And he’s finally found who will take his virginity. She just doesn’t know it yet.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, written in third person, dark!Din, stalker behavior, voyeurism, masturbation, restraints, non con/dub con, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (good girl, cyar’ika), no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

He moves through the night like a loth-cat on the prowl, hidden under the over covert of darkness. His intentions are… “pure” but the way he’s going about them isn’t. He knows exactly what he’s looking for— a woman, her skin so soft, her gaze so tender. He met her many rotations ago, walking the marketplace of Nevarro and decided that she was going to be the one. She just doesn’t know it yet.

Din’s been saving himself for a long time, a measure of his self restraint. He could be blowing his load into any woman he wants with the way they all practically throw themselves at him. But this one was different. She’s different. The moment her gentle hand caressed his bicep as she bid him goodbye Din knew he was done for. His plan was set in motion and tonight he’s going to finally act on his urges.

He’s watched her walk home countless times, wondering what it’s like inside her house, if it’s as warm and inviting as she is. But tonight he’ll finally let himself inside, in more ways than one.

He reaches her house on the outskirts of Nevarro but he quickly has to turn a corner because she’s out front and… she’s not alone. She’s with a man. Din’s seen him around before at the marketplace, selling produce from his stand. It doesn’t bother him that much knowing she’s about to fuck another man. For a woman as beautiful as her it would be foolish to assume she couldn’t have anyone she pleased.

He watches as she takes him by the hand, leading him inside her place. He feels a pang of jealousy tug at his heart, knowing that that should be him but he buries it down. He knows that he’ll have her on her back in due time, squirming under his touch and her pussy welcoming him with her warm embrace.

The door closes and he darts across the street, circling her house until he finally arrives as the prized spot— her bedroom. The window is slightly open so he’ll have to be extra quiet, listening intently as her soft moans escape into the nighttime air. He has to take a peek.

He moves from his crouching position, standing up just a bit taller so he’s peering ever so slightly into her bedroom. She’s on her back, legs spread wide in the air. The man is standing at the foot of her bed, thrusting into her rough and hard. Her moans start out soft but quickly turn into choked up sobs. Maker, it’s like music to his ears. It’s like something else takes over him, because he’s kneeling on the ground, watching this man fuck her like there’s no tomorrow. He pulls his cock out and masturbates under the dim moonlight.

She’s about to cum. He can tell by the way she’s moaning ‘Please. Please. Please,” over and over again like a prayer. He wishes to make her feel like that, to make her say those things as he buries his cock inside her, but he watches her with love and admiration. The man fucking her curses under his breath, coming inside her with a loud grunt. This is all a prelude for Din as that will be Din tomorrow night, cock buried to hilt in her cunt making her writhe underneath his grasp.

He looks down and he didn’t even realize he came all over his gloved hand. He’s mad at himself for wasting his seed when he should be saving it for her, but it’s better than being spilled inside a random, undeserving woman. But now her and the other man are wrapping up and Din needs to make a quick exit. He crouches down so they can’t see him and tucks his cock away. He turns the corner again, weaving in and out of side streets and alleyways until he’s back where the Razor Crest is docked.

What a rush that was.

But it’ll be an even bigger rush tomorrow night when he’s finally coming inside her, making her his.

-

The next day is spent anxiously waiting for nightfall, anxiously waiting for her to be home. Hopefully, this time she’s alone, ready and unknowingly waiting for him. This is what he’s been looking forward to for a long time, releasing his seed inside her like he’s planned for rotations on end.

Once nightfall arrives he makes his way to her house as he did the night before. She’s not outside this time, instead he hears her humming in her bedroom. Her window must be open again. That makes this all the better for him. He enters through her window stealthily, making sure not to startle you. She’s putting away laundry in her closet, wearing a cute little night dress that barely covers his ass. This can’t get any better for him.

He approaches her slightly as she goes about her task without a care in the world. And that’s when he restrains her, releasing his whipcord from his right vambrace.

“Hey! Get your hands off-” she says, startled and trying to wiggle free. But it’s no use. The cord is tight around her wrists.

“Shh,” he tells her, pulling her into his chest and wrapping his arms around her.

“…Mando?”

“Mhm.”

“What are you-”

“Just relax,” he says, moving her to the bed, coaxing her to bend over. She obliges, bending over the bed for him, her night dress riding up for him. He crouches down and wraps his arms around her thighs, wanting to get a look at her sweet pussy up close. She’s wet. But how can that be?

“Have you been touching yourself?” he asks.

“…A little.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“Oh! I don’t really want to…” she says, almost like she’s embarrassed.

“Just tell me, cyar’ika.”

“…You.”

“Really??”

“Y-Yes.”

“Were you thinking about me when that man fucked you last night?”

“What?! You saw that?!”

“Mhm. You were such a good girl for him,” he says, rising from the floor and pulling his cock out of his flight suit. He pulls off one of his gloves, running two fingers along her entrance, collecting her wetness. He rubs it between his thumb and forefinger and middle finger, spreading it around and admiring the physical evidence of her attraction to him.

He collects more of her slickness, slathering his cock with it and pushing into her abruptly. There are no thoughts in his mind besides “Spill your seed into her, now.”

She gasps sharply before it turns into a moan as she takes his length, his cock expanding her walls. She squirms against him and he places a hand on her shoulder, using it as leverage to keep her still. Her warmth envelops his cock as obscene squelching sounds fill up her bedroom. He’s not going to last long like this, not with the way she’s taking him like such a good girl, not with the way she cries so perfectly for him, not with the way this is all so overwhelming to him. This is what he’s pined for, what he’s yearned for, what he’s dreamed about. And it’s all coming to fruition.

“Call me Din when I fuck you he says,” his voice dripping with arousal.

“Y-Yes, Din,” she breathes out.

He keeps his pace steady as he plows her on her bed. And she just takes him like such a good girl, so ready, so willing. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, each of them drowning in euphoria as their orgasms threaten to spill over.

“You’re so big, Din,” she moans. His mind short circuits and that just about sends him over the edge.

He draws his hips back and slams into her, blowing his load into her warm, wet pussy. She cums, too, walls clenching his cock and prolonging both of their orgasms. If there’s a heaven, Din’s found it, buried deep inside her pussy as she moans incessantly.

Once he pulls out, he finds he’s still rock hard. And he just has to have her again, over and over until he’s satisfied, if he ever will be. Something’s been unlocked inside him, something that’s been clawing its way out for an escape. What started as a desire to find someone to take his virginity turned into something darker. She won’t be leaving this bed for a long time.

She collapses on the bed, panting and catching her breath but her night is far from over. How could a touch so innocent turn into something so sinister?

@pedrostories

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #star wars fanfiction #dark!din djarin #dark!din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader

[pedroshotwifey]

Dark!Recs (Pedro Characters)

Joel Miller

Bullet For You, Darlin' by @kewwrites Ongoing Series - Raider!Joel x AFAB!Reader

Sunshine by @kewwrites Ongoing Series - Dark!Joel x AFAB!Reader

Caught by @toxicanonymity One shot - Dark!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Give an Inch, Take a Mile by @thatmrmiller One shot - Dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

Twisted Love and Cruel Love by @cool-iguana Two part series - Dark!Joel Miller x reader

Unnamed Mean!Joel Drabble by @marsswann Drabble - Dark!Joel x Crybaby!reader

Perfect, Wake, and Shopping by @notjustjavierpena One shot series - Mean Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x reader

Left in Lincoln by @toxicanonymity Series - Softdark!Joel Miller x virgin!reader

I Can Be Your Pretty Girl by @walkintotheriveranddisappear Series - Darkish!Joel Miller x fem!reader Joel is a manipulative, pushy, and pervy asshole... and I go for it every time.

Hate by @notjustjavierpena One shot - Mean!Joel Miller x f!reader

Smother by @beardedjoel Series (ongoing) - Creepy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Close Call by @toxicanonymity One shot - darkish!Joel Miller x f!reader

All I Did Was What I Had To by @corazondebeskar-reads Series (more parts tbd) - Mean!Joel Miller x f!Reader

No Soul To Sell by @atticrissfinch One shot - dark!ex-boyfriend’s dad!joel miller x fem!reader

Rebound by @springdandelixn on ao3 Short series (complete) - Dark!dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Din Djarin

Whispers in the Dark by @kewwrites Ongoing Series - Dark!Din Djarin x Reader

Memento Mori by @kewwrites Ongoing Series - Serialkiller!Din x Reader

To Touch Darkness by @djarincore one shot - Dark!Din Djarin x AFAB!Reader

Partners by @pedge-page One shot - forceful!Din Djarin x f!reader

Javier Peña

Gonna Make You Sweat by @mypoisonedvine One shot - Dark(kinda)DBF!Javier Peña x reader

Like the Girls in the Movies by @walkintotheriveranddisappear One shot - Pervy!Javi x afab!reader

Frankie Morales

On The Waterfront series by @beefrobeefcal Ongoing Series - Dark!Frankie Morales x Fem!reader

No Eres Tú (Soy Yo) by @iamasaddie One shot - Dark!Frankie Morales x f!reader

UPDATED 12/3/23

#dark fic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #fic rec #din djarin #the mandalorian #frankie morales #smut #ao3 #fan fiction #javier peña #joel miller

[darkuselesssomebody]

masterlists!

** all works are x reader (written as x fem!reader but most are/can be read as gender neutral)

** this masterlist includes all fandoms i write for - if you have a suggestion with another fandom/character, you can still request it, and i can see if i know them/am willing to write for them ** this is a dark blog; all content comes with content warnings and is 18+ !!

☁ dark marvel masterlist

☁ dark stranger things masterlist

☁ dark miscellaneous

☁ kinktober 2023

#dark useless somebody #masterlist #multifandom masterlist #marvel #mcu #stranger things #dark!bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #dark!billy hargrove #dark!steve harrington #imagines #oneshots #xreader #dark!loki laufeyson #dark!eddie munson #dark!joel miller #the last of us #dark fics #dark!miguel o'hara #dark!din djarin #dark!basil stitt #dark!steve murphy #narcos #star wars #across the spider verse #lightning face

[corazondebeskar-reads]

Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist

hey, y'all! I'm participating in @febuwhump this year.

most will center on either joel miller x f!reader or din djarin x f!reader and will be short, probably under 1k each.

warnings: as implied by "whump," these fic will ALL contain physical and/or mental hurt. some will not have comfort. please read the warnings on each individual story before proceeding.

I will not be tagging anyone from any of the taglists for this to avoid spamming y'all. This list can be found at the top of my masterlist if you're looking for all of the works in one place. I won't add them to individual character lists until March.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Key: 🏴 = dark 💀 = dead dove do not eat

Febuwhump Schedule

UPDATE: due to a health issue, I fell way behind. as such, the ones crossed out on this list are not guaranteed (they may still happen but I make no promises).

1: helpless - I'll take care of you - dark!Din x gn!reader 🏴💀

2: solitary confinement - no one could save me but you - dark!psychologist!Joel x f!reader 🏴💀

3: "bite down on this" - only to hurt, never to hold - gladiator!Din x f!reader (a drabble for "live to rise")

4: obedience - everyone breaks - werewolf!Joel (a drabble for "of rage and ruin") 🏴

5: rope burns - keep it caged - werewolf!Joel x f!reader (a drabble for "of rage and ruin") 🏴

6: "you lied to me" - was it worth it? - jackson!Joel xf!reader

7: suffering in silence - stuck in a lonely loop - Din x f!reader

8: found footage - remember what you're staring at is me - jackson!Joel x f!reader 🏴

9: lightning strike - seasons don't - jackson!Joel 🏴💀

10: killing in self-defense - no quiet on this earth - Joel x f!reader

11: time loop - gen, Tommy & Joel 🏴💀

14: blood-stained tiles - nobody is coming to save you - bounty hunter!Din x f!bounty!reader

17: hostage situation - no loyalty in the apocalypse - dark!Joel x f!reader 🏴💀

18: too weak to move - save your tears - Joel Miller x f!reader

19: "please don't" - better run - dark!Joel Miller x f!reader 🏴💀

#toni does febuwhump 2k24 #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #joel miller x reader #din djarin x reader #whump #angst #dead dove fic #dark!joel miller #dark!din djarin #if I fail at getting these all done you didn't see anything

[uselesssomebody]

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 (18+)

the do's (rules & information):

readers must be over 18 reading these drabbles

all works will be under or roughly a thousand words

thirty-one days of smut drabbles

ten days are open to requests for the kinks

ten days will include dark content (will be properly tagged)

five will include a dominant reader

the don'ts (what i am not interested in writing):

i only write fem!readers, with all involved characters being over 18

the kinks i'd appreciate you don't request are anything to do with anal penetration, bodily fluids (besides blood and cum), and certain dom/sub dynamics like age play or ddlg

otherwise, ask away, and i'll see if i'm comfortable writing your request!

the kinks and the characters

october 1: shower sex w/ frankie morales

october 2: ball worship (dom!reader) w/ eddie munson

october 3: sex pollen (dark) w/ din djarin

october 4: consensual non-consent (dark) w/ miguel o'hara

october 5: threesome (ffm) w/ marc spector & layla el-faouly

october 6: requested kink & character

october 7: breeding kink (dark) w/ duke leto

october 8: somnophilia (dark) w/ eddie munson

october 9: mutual masturbation (dom!reader) w/ steven grant

october 10: threesome (mmf) + double penetration (in one hole) w/ frankie morales and santiago garcia

october 11: titfucking w/ javier peña

october 12: requested kink & character

october 13: exhibitionism w/ poe dameron

october 14: dacryphilia (dark) w/ joel miller

october 15: temperature play (dom!reader) w/ din djarin

october 16: phone sex w/ jack daniels

october 17: corruption kink (dark) w/ dio morrissey

october 18: requested kink & character

october 19: edging (dark!dom!reader) w/ basil stitt

october 20: recording/blackmail (dark) w/ jonathan levy

october 21: mask + glove kink w/ jake lockley

october 22: hate + mirror sex w/ javier peña

october 23: cockwarming (dom!reader) w/ steven grant

october 24: requested kink & character

october 25: overstimulation w/ jake lockley

october 26: size difference w/ miguel o'hara

october 27: knife kink (dark) w/ bucky barnes

october 28: free use (dark) w/ joel miller

october 29: sex toys w/ natasha romanoff

october 30: requested kink & character

october 31: period sex/blood kink w/ santiago garcia

the characters (you guys can request)

from stranger things, i write for eddie munson, robin buckley, billy hargrove or steve harrington

from marvel, i write for bucky barnes, steve rogers, natasha romanoff, jake lockley, marc spector, steven grant, layla el-faouly and miguel o'hara

from star wars, i write for poe dameron, or din djarin (the mandalorian)

from triple frontier, i write for frankie morales and santiago garcia

miscellaneous oscar isaac characters i write for include basil stitt, jonathan levy, duke leto, kane and orestes (agora)

miscellaneous pedro pascal characters i write for include joel miller, javier peña, jack daniels (agent whiskey), dio morrissey

if you want to request another character, don't hesitate! i will see what i can do.

notes

guys i know i haven't written in like 1200 months but i wanna get back into the mood with the short smutty stuff

besides, i've never done kinktober and every other one i've seen bangs so hard i simply couldn't resist

side note - dark fics will be only available on my adjacent dark blog: @darkuselesssomebody, but will be linked on this masterlist. if you wanna read the dark drabbles and future dark work, give it a follow!

i am also willing to take non-kinky & halloween themed requests, so if you have any, let me know!

𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!

#uselesssomebody #kinktober 2023 masterlist #dark! din djarin #dark!miguel o'hara #dark!duke leto #dark!eddie munson #dark!joel miller #dark!dio morrissey #dark!jonathan levy #dark!bucky barnes #eddie munson smut #bucky barnes smut #natasha romanoff smut #jake lockley smut #marc spector smut #layla el faouly smut #marc spector x reader x layla el faouly #steven grant smut #miguel o'hara smut #poe dameron smut #din djarin smut #frankie morales smut #santiago garcia smut #basil stitt smut #duke leto atreides smut #jonathan levy smut #joel miller smut #javier peña smut #jack daniels smut #agent whiskey smut

[tommysversion]

The Space Cowboy punishes you for being a bad girl, using both of his belts, making sure that Mythosaur buckle really leaves a mark.

There’s an old saying about how nobody can hear you scream in space. You’re not entirely sure how true that is, but you’re hoping it holds some merit, otherwise you’re about to be embarrassed as hell.

Din has you sprawled out over his lap, entirely bare to him except for the thin beskar choker that envelopes your throat like a permanent glove. It’s a simple piece of jewellery that holds far more meaning than one would assume at first glance; it’s a piece of him, marking you as his, marking you as under his protection.

There’s nobody to protect you from him, though. And that’s exactly how you like it.

He has both his belts off, looped in his hand, angled so that the embossed creature on the metal buckle makes contact with the soft skin of your ass whenever he lands a blow to you. You can’t see it, of course, but you’re starting to get the feeling that you’ll have the creature imprinted into your ass for days to come.

He may as well just fucking brand you at this point, but that’s not a thought you’re about to verbalise. Mostly because you just know that the second you do, it’ll give him ideas. Ideas you’re not exactly opposed to. Din can be a sadistic bastard when the mood takes him, and you’re a perfect little masochist.

Truly, you shouldn’t be allowed to encourage him.

There’s a faint swish as the belt whistles through the air, a satisfying slap when the leather and metal collide with your red ass.

“Did you lose count?” Din sounds amused; he knows he’s distracted you, knows you’ve disappeared into your own head. A rookie mistake.

“… Yes.” You admit, a little sullen. You pride yourself on being good for him, but you can’t claim to be if you can’t even keep count of his punishments.

“So not only will you disobey me, you don’t even have the manners to pay attention when I’m teaching you a lesson.” There’s a cold amusement to his voice, low and dark. You can feel how hard he is, pressed against your stomach.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“You aren’t, but you will be. Let’s start again, shall we?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, knows you won’t argue as he raises the belt again. “Try and keep up this time.”

#my writing #din djarin x reader #din djarin #dark!din #if you squint #answered #Pedro Pascal #din djarin smut