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vi-does-stuff · 2 years

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alpha!Obi-Wan Kenobi x f!omega!reader

Tags smut, mating cycles/in heat, post order 66, unprotected piv sex, mating bites, soft dom obi-wan kenobi, extremely little plot, no y/n

Word count 5.3k

When your master is killed in the years after Order 66, the last thing she tells you to do is to find Obi-Wan Kenobi. It takes you years, and eventually you do, but the man you find isn’t the man you remember hearing about as a Padawan back at the Temple. He does eventually let you stay, however, and you begin to get to know him — but how will you deal with the inevitable complications that come with your status as an omega?

ao3

It’s taken much longer than you’d have preferred to get to Tatooine. The years since Order 66 have been difficult — though you’ve been more lucky than most, actually having a master to complete your training, for one — and as you touch down on the planet it feels like something inside you is complete. You haven’t even completed your master’s final wish yet, needing to find Master Kenobi first, but you’re getting closer at least.

If anything happens, Master Nera had said before going out to face the people sent by the Empire, find Master Kenobi. He’ll be able to help you. owes me.

You’d protested, of course, wanting to help Master Nera instead of running and hiding — but you suppose that if she couldn’t beat them, you wouldn’t stand a chance. That rationalisation doesn’t exactly stop the guilt that claws at your heart every night, though.

Locating Kenobi to Tatooine was hard enough. There were whispers — all you had to rely on, whispers — that he was on a variety of Outer Rim worlds, but none of them turned out to be true. Until one more concrete source came up, assuring you that the old Master was on Tatooine, hiding in the Jundland Wastes. And here you are.

Eventually, you find a mode of transport — ignoring the unsubtle inhale of the alpha trader and her repeated glances at your unbitten neck — and begin the journey into the Wastes.

You only lived with suppressants for a few years before Order 66 made getting them virtually impossible without risk of arrest, but you miss their presence and usefulness a lot. Your heats are much less regular than the average omega’s, perhaps due to some lasting effect of the suppressants, and they always seem to catch you off guard at the most inconvenient times. You’ve also had to grow used to the increased awareness of people regarding your designation, particularly with you being unmated, and it never ceases to make you uncomfortable.

You close your eyes, reaching out in the Force as you try to look for a life form that feels Force sensitive, and allow it to guide you to where you think you’re meant to be.

It takes a while — you knew that the Wastes would be big, but this big? — but eventually it feels as though you’re getting closer. You find yourself looking up at a steep climb towards what seems like a hut, and though you don’t exactly want to climb up there, something overwhelming in the Force tells you that it’s the right place.

The walk is rough, and even though you know you can’t, part of you is tempted to stop and rest. You need to find Kenobi as soon as possible, so you keep going, trying to ignore the pain and tiredness that build up in your legs. After what feels like an age, you reach the top, and make the final few steps towards the hut.

You pause for longer than you should before knocking at the door. You’re nervous, what with the anticipation of finally doing something that’s taken you years and you try not to shake as you wait for someone to answer the door.

When the door opens, the first thing you take in about the man is his smell; alpha, big, strong alpha, and it’s all you can do to remember how to speak.

“Master Kenobi?” The second thing you notice about him is how attractive he is, despite the lack of any positive expression on his face as he takes you in.

His brow furrows. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve been looking for you for- for years. I’m Master Nera’s Padawan. She wanted me to find you, so- here I am.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

It’s not just your omega side that reels at the rebuke. “But- I’ve been looking for so long, all I’ve been trying to do is find you-”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Please. Master Nera said you owed her. Whatever that means.”

Kenobi sighs. “Fine. You can stay. But not for too long — I have duties here that only I can fulfil.”

You can’t contain your gratitude in the Force. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t respond, only turning and gesturing for you to follow him into his hut. You do so, holding back a shiver at how strong the scent of alpha is inside — it does seem that he’s had a hard time getting hold of suppressants as well — and trying to look around in a subtle way.

It makes you feel quite sad at how bare the hut is. You know that neither of you would be used to having possessions, but when you’d lived with Master Nera, it at least felt like home. This just seems like some random place that Kenobi’s staying in for a few days before leaving again. At least there’s a sofa, you suppose, so you’ll be able to sleep somewhere that isn’t the floor.

“Master Kenobi?” you ask.

“Don’t- don’t call me that. Call me Obi-Wan. Or Ben; that’s how I’m known here. The Order is gone, I’m not a Jedi Master anymore.”

“Just because the Order’s gone doesn’t mean you’re not a Jedi Master. Master Nera still taught me for several years after Order 66.” Kenobi, again, doesn’t respond, and it seems he’s waiting for your original question. You sigh. “Why actually are you on Tatooine?”

He sighs too. “Please stop asking questions.”

“Why shouldn’t I ask? Don’t I deserve to know what’s going on with the place that raised me?”

“The Order is gone. How many times do I have to say it?”

“It’s not truly gone, Obi-Wan. I know it — I’ve spoken to the surviving Jedi while you’ve been stuck here. Nothing could really get rid of the Jedi Order completely, not even the Empire.”

“Then ask those Jedi what’s ‘going on’. I’m not here in association with the Order.”

“You wouldn’t willingly come to a planet like Tatooine and stay here for so long without good reason. There must be something.”

The silence that stretches out for several seconds makes you think you’re getting no answer again, until he speaks. “There’s a child.”

“A child? Yours?”

He exhales, a noise almost sounding like a laugh. “No. Not mine. But he’s Force sensitive — strong — and I watch over him.”

“Oh.”

You imagine him holding a child in his arms, and something about the image makes your heart jump. You should probably stop thinking about that.

“You can sleep on the sofa,” Obi-Wan says, changing the subject. You decide not to stop that. “My room is that one, and the ‘fresher is through there.”

“Okay.”

“Do you know why Nera sent you here?” he asks, apparently deciding that it’s his turn to ask questions.

You shake your head. “It was the last thing she said before going to fight the stormtroopers, she didn’t give a reason other than that you owe her. She mentioned you a few times before, though — it seemed like you were friends.”

“We were. I respected her a lot. And she- well, she saved my life once or twice. That’s probably what I owe her for.”

You imagine the great General Kenobi, saved by your own master, and find yourself wondering how the two of them got on.

“She respected you a lot, too,” you say, before pausing. “I miss her.” You really do; you miss her tutelage, you miss the friendship that your apprenticeship had grown into, and you miss having another omega there who understood you and was a comforting figure through your heats when neither of you were used to having them.

Obi-Wan’s face shifts almost indistinguishably. Your signature is practically radiating grief, and some deep part of him yearns to protect you, to push that grief away until he can see you smile at him.

“I miss her too, little one.” The diminutive catches you off guard, and you have to fight to repress the keen in your throat.

You try to smile. “Well. Thank you for letting me stay.”

He shrugs. “Hey. Don’t thank me until you see how boring it is here.”

He isn’t wrong — life on Tatooine can be rather boring, as you find out over the following week. But you find that there’s something you appreciate about it, not having to actively be concerned about some random person spotting you and realising you’re on the run from the Empire.

You don’t worry, that is, until Obi-Wan takes you into Anchorhead for some supplies. It’s a small town, yes, but you’re used to always having to look over your shoulder and being around more than one other person again makes you feel uncomfortable. Thankfully, you aren’t there for too long, picking up the necessities quickly before going back to the hut.

You spend almost all of your time in the hut, or at least very close to it. You haven’t stopped your usual Jedi morning routine of katas and meditation, and you notice that Obi-Wan hasn’t either. One morning, you wake up later than usual, and you see him going through it as you walk to your usual spot. He’s not wearing a shirt, and you have to tear your eyes away from his bare chest, feeling blood rush to your cheeks as you walk away.

Releasing your feelings to the Force once you’re settled in your typical spot, you appreciate how much time you get to spend meditating now you’re here. It reminds you of when you were still with Master Nera and you didn’t have to hide your Force sensitivity from anyone in your direct vicinity.

Spending more time with Obi-Wan helps you feel more comfortable around him, too. You don’t talk about an awful lot — it’s difficult for you both to divulge certain things, and you both respect that, too — but he seems to grow used to having company. You even begin to spar with one another; why not take advantage of having someone else who can fight around, you suppose. Obi-Wan consistently beats you, but you appreciate having someone so knowledgeable in various lightsaber forms so close to you again. His corrections are always useful, and it makes you sad how he’s missed out on teaching a whole new generation of young Jedi how to use a lightsaber. You manage to take most of it in as well, despite the distraction of having such a strong alpha in close proximity to you.

Obi-Wan really does appreciate having someone else around. He hadn’t realised how truly lonely he was until you showed up at his door, and he is very glad that he took you in — he’s actually rather fond of you, as odd as it is for him to admit.

Things are almost good for a few weeks. Until the inevitable comes along.

You finish your routine before Obi-Wan does one morning, and are making breakfast when he walks in. He comes to your side, going to get his own food, and you notice him sniff a little, as though smelling something odd.

Being in Obi-Wan’s hut has caused its own scent to shift; it’s no longer just alpha but more balanced, and it’s reassuring to return to when you go outside. But when you inhale, you realise that something smells wrong — you.

Sure, you’ve felt slightly off all morning, but you hoped that you wouldn’t have to contend with this just yet. You smell of preheat, nowhere near as intense as it will become later, but still noticeable to any alpha or omega nearby.

Your surprise must resonate within the Force. “Are you alright?” Obi-Wan asks, somewhat awkwardly.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t realise this would happen yet.”

He swallows. “It’s alright, little one. You can hardly control it.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Would you like to take my room when it gets worse? The bed would probably be preferable to a sofa.”

Your signature rings with gratitude. “Thank you, Obi-Wan. If that’s alright with you.”

“It’s probably the best thing for both of us.”

You sit down to eat your breakfast, and try to push back the intensity of your incoming heat with the Force. You can do it to a certain extent — you’ve done so before — but only for a little while. Nothing can stop the inevitable if you don’t have suppressants.

Over time, you feel — and smell — the preheat coming on much more, your core growing warmer as it does so. “Could I- could I go to your room soon?” You ask. “Before it gets bad.”

You watch him inhale again. “Yes. Whenever you need.”

“Thank you. Again, I’m really sorry about this — it’s always really irregular, but I thought I’d have quite a bit longer than this.”

“It’s alright. Do you want to go through now?”

You nod, and he shows you through to his room. “Thank you, Obi-Wan. Truly.”

He just inclines his head slightly. “I don’t have many blankets or anything, so I’m sorry about that. I only have what’s on the bed.”

“It- it’s okay. It’s better than nothing at all.”

“True. Well- I suppose I should leave you to it.”

“Okay.”

Part of you desperately wants the man you’ve begun to really care for to stay, to take care of you, but you try not to seem too sad as you watch him leave. You instead turn your attention to the room; his bed is in the corner, which you note happily — you’ll feel safer not being completely open on all sides — and though there aren’t many sheets, you feel like you’ll be able to work with what you have. You spot a robe in the corner, and can’t stop yourself from taking it. It smells of Obi-Wan, the alpha’s scent reassuring you in a way you didn’t exactly expect, and you keep it close to you as you bury yourself in his sheets and try to meditate.

Outside, Obi-Wan also tries to centre himself in the Force. He hasn’t been remotely close to anyone in heat in years, and especially not since coming off his suppressants, and he’s not used to this all-controlling urge to protect and care for. He’s wanted to look after people before, of course he has, but he’s never felt such abject frustration at being unable to do so. But you’re not unable, he tells himself. She’s right there.

Right there. Just on the other side of the door, a door which is hardly blocking your scent from taking over the rest of the house.

Obi-Wan stops himself from going in, again and again. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to you, but you’re in heat for goodness’ sake. Neither of you would be acting in your right minds if anything did happen, and the last thing Obi-Wan wants to do is to make you feel any sense of regret for coming to him once your heat is over.

But he needs to look after you.

After most of the day spent meditating somewhat successfully, Obi-Wan stands. Even if he can’t ease your heat in the way that you truly need, he can make sure you’re not starving and dehydrated. He gathers together some food and pours a glass of water, and takes a deep breath before opening the bedroom door.

If he thought your scent was strong outside, it was nothing compared to what he’s hit with once he steps inside. You’re practically writhing around in his bed, his clothing clutched to your chest as you do so.

At the noise and presence of someone else in the room, you shift to look at him, pupils dilated. “Alpha?” you ask, practically calling out to him.

“It’s only me,” Obi-Wan says. “I brought some things to keep you going.” He steps closer, somewhat worried about what he might do if he doesn’t stay away from you, and hands over the plate and glass. He watches you eat and drink — you seem to be rather hungry, which doesn’t really surprise him — and takes the empty things back from you when you’re done. He goes to leave again, but halts at the sound of a whine coming deep from your throat.

“Alpha- please stay,” you say, almost sounding pitiful. You give in to your previous wants, and decide that you may as well ask. It’s not like you can stop yourself from doing so, anyway.

“I shouldn’t. You’re not in your right mind.”

“Obi-Wan, please.” He stops again at the sound of his name, having begun to move to the door. “I don’t want to be alone right now. I can’t.”

Obi-Wan sighs, but you can somehow sense through the Force that he’s decided to stay.

“Come in my nest, alpha. It already smells like you.”

He puts his things down on the bedside table and gives in, tentatively going to sit down on the bed. You quickly go to wrap your arms around him, pulling him into an embrace and inhaling the comforting scent of alpha as he reciprocates the hug, holding you close to him.

You tuck your head into his shoulder, and the movement makes his beard rub slightly against the scent gland on your neck. The slight friction earns a keen from your throat that you desperately try to push down, and you resist the urge to attempt to bear your neck to him.

You’re resisting a lot in general right now; in going to hug Obi-Wan you essentially straddled him, and with his knee slotted between your legs it’s very difficult not to grind against him. A small, barely-there part of your brain is reminding you not to make him uncomfortable, despite the larger, almost overriding part of you desperate for more contact with the alpha.

Obi-Wan’s hand comes to rest at the nape of your neck, thumb lightly stroking your scent gland, and you shuffle a little in his lap, still trying not to be too obscene with him. “Oh, omega,” he says softly, almost catching you off-guard. “Is this helping?”

You nod, hoping he registers the movement correctly. You try to get a read of his Force signature, hoping that he’s not too uncomfortable, but he seems completely calm, not unlike the comforting scent that he’s releasing. “Can I- can you help more?” you ask hesitantly.

“What do you want me to do, omega?” His voice is so close to your ear, an edge to it that only drives your desire higher.

You swallow. “I’m so empty, alpha, it’s starting to hurt. I need you.”

His breath catches. “Are you sure? Are you sure it’s not just the heat?”

“No, Obi-Wan, alpha, I swear-” you get out. In an attempt to demonstrate your feelings towards him through the Force, you somewhat clumsily completely take down your shields, pushing everything through to him that you can.

“I shouldn’t,” he says, and it kills you.

“Don’t you want to?” If you thought your voice was pitiful before, it was nothing compared to this.

“I do. Kriff, I do.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

The question seems to change his mind, and Obi-Wan moves you so he can finally capture your lips in a kiss. It starts soft and sweet, but you both have needs right now — you suspect you may be kickstarting his rut, if the shift in scent and growing bulge you feel against your thigh are any indications — and quickly deepens, Obi-Wan seeming to know exactly what to do. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of how quickly your heart is beating, racing in your chest, and Obi-Wan places a hand right over it as though trying to calm you down.

He uses that hand to push you away slightly, and you’re afraid that he’s going to stop things, but he only moves you further onto the bed. He moves too, going to remove his shirt so that his chest is bare before you. You can’t help but stare; his arms are fully freed for the first time as well and though not massively muscled, there’s just something about them that you can’t tear your eyes away from.

You look back up at his face, and there’s a somewhat nervous expression there, as though he expects you not to like how he looks. “Alpha, you are gorgeous,” you say, leaning forwards to trail your hands along his torso, wanting to map every inch of him with your palms.

He smiles at the compliment, before pulling you into another kiss that you eagerly reciprocate. It seems it’s your turn to undress, as Obi-Wan fiddles with your clothes — all you’re wearing is a long shirt which he easily pulls over your head, leaving you completely naked.

Obi-Wan moves you again, laying you both down on the bed with him positioning himself just above you. He begins to kiss you again, before trailing his mouth down to your jaw and neck, dangerously close to your scent gland. You’re already sensitive, and the contact of his chest against your bare skin only adds to the sensations, eliciting a moan from you that you can’t hold back.

His lips are at your scent gland now, and you’re more than tempted to beg him to sink his teeth in. It wouldn’t be a bad thing at all, you reason with yourself, to be mated to Obi-Wan. You’ve idly considered it before over your weeks with him, and if you didn’t think that the request would risk him stopping this whole thing altogether, you’d be saying it in a second. You let out a keen again, the yearning you feel clear in your voice, and your hand moves involuntarily to the back of Obi-Wan’s neck, fingers in his hair.

You inhale, and mixed in with the scent of alpha is the unmistakable smell of your slick, which you can feel between your thighs. You’ve never been this wet before — you’ve never had any other stimulation during your heats — and it surprises you. Obi-Wan seems to smell it too, and he halts, leaning up to look at you from where he was pressing his lips to your chest. “Omega- can I taste you?”

All you can do is nod, and watch as Obi-Wan moves further down your body to settle between your legs. You shuffle backwards to give him more space, and oblige him as he pushes your thighs further apart to give him more access. It’s a vulnerable position, another that you’ve never held before, but the scent of your- the alpha right in front of you helps to ease how you feel.

He doesn’t go directly between your legs, instead beginning by pressing a line of kisses against your inner thigh. You’re already sensitive there, and the light scratch of his beard adds to the feeling, especially when he nibbles at the skin. He doesn’t quite break the skin — not that you’d be complaining if he did — but you can guess that it’ll probably still leave a mark, which pleases some deep part of you.

The first press of him against your cunt simultaneously sates you and ignites a fire in your stomach. Your hand instinctively goes to rest in his hair, and when he licks into you your fingers tighten, and you try to force them to relax and remove your hand. “Oh- sorry,” you manage to get out.

It’s fine, Obi-Wan tells you through the Force. You can touch me all you want.

With his highly fortunate blessing, you place your hand back in his hair, and with another lick — this time to your clit — you press his head further between your legs. He begins to suck lightly at your clit, making the sensations you’re feeling yet more intense, and you can’t help but writhe your hips slightly. It feels good — really good — but something about it doesn’t quite fill you in the way you crave.

“Alpha, wait-” you say, and he pauses, lifting his head up to look at you.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. “Am I doing anything wrong?”

“No, this is great, I just-” you swallow. “I really need you to fuck me. I feel so empty.”

Obi-Wan laughs a little. “Okay, little one. Whatever you need.”

“Thank you, alpha.”

He moves from between your legs, sitting back on his knees. The two of you seem to realise how wet his beard is at the same time — you, somewhat embarrassed by the fact — and he goes to wipe it with his hand before going to kiss you again. “So wet, omega,” he says, between kisses. “Is it all for me?”

“All for you, alpha,” you say.

“You got all nice and wet for me, is my omega going to present for me as well?” Even though you reason within yourself that it’s just a slip of the tongue, that he didn’t actually mean it, the possessiveness of the phrase my omega kills you a little bit inside.

Even though you’ve never presented for anyone before, you instinctively know what to do as you shift onto your front and press your shoulders down into the mattress, baring your cunt for Obi-Wan to see. You hear him remove his trousers before he takes his place above you, caging you in with his body so that you feel safe and comfortable, and presses a light kiss to the side of your neck. “Are you ready, omega?”

“Yes, Obi-Wan, please,” you say, and he pushes himself into your cunt.

You’d known that he’d be big — he’s an alpha, after all — but even with the help of the slick you’ve been producing, you can tell that he’ll take some getting used to. Even with that recognition, you almost immediately feel better at the feeling of someone so deep inside of you, in a place which has never been reached before. Neither you nor Obi-Wan can halt the pleased noises that tear themselves from your throats, and knowing that the alpha is enjoying this too makes you feel even better.

“Oh, omega, you feel perfect around my cock, so tight and wet,” Obi-Wan says, mouth still right by your ear so the words send shivers along your spine.

You manage to laugh a little at that, although thinking clearly is becoming progressively more difficult. “Imagine how it’ll be when you knot me.”

Obi-Wan actually growls at that, instinctively thrusting deeper into you, and if it was possible for you to get any wetter, you definitely would have at the sound and feeling of his voice right next to your ear. “Are you looking forward to that, omega? Want me to fill you with my knot, with my come?” He punctuates the question with another forceful thrust, and the answer you were beginning to form is blocked by another moan.

“Alpha-” Obi-Wan continues to push his cock into you, initially trying to make it slow and deep. Your desperate clenching around him, however, seems to make him lose his control, and he soon increases his pace, which you certainly aren’t complaining about. His focus also remains on your neck, pressing clumsy yet purposeful kisses around your scent gland, teasing you with the prospect of being mated.

You continue to feel better and better the more time you spend with Obi-Wan inside you. It feels like he’s everywhere: his body is caging you in, his familiar and comforting scent has filled the room, giving the atmosphere a touch of desire, and he’s finally beginning to open his Force signature up to yours. While not quite as familiar as his scent — yet — there’s just something about Obi-Wan’s Force signature which draws you in, as though it’s pulling on your own in the desire to make a deeper connection. Desire is the main part of it; yours and Obi-Wan’s feelings ricocheting around the room, seemingly only getting stronger as time goes on.

“Obi-Wan?” you ask breathlessly.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can you-” you pause nervously, unsure whether you’re actually going to ask, but Obi-Wan senses your hesitation and goes to comfort you through the Force. “Can you mark me, alpha? Bite me?”

You hear his breath hitch in his throat, and his rhythm falters for a second. “Are you- do you want me to? Do you understand what that would mean?”

“Yeah, it would- it would make me yours, alpha. I just want to be yours.”

“Sweetheart…” he growls. “You want to be my omega?”

“I do. Very much.”

You can feel Obi-Wan’s (initially reluctant) joy at that admission through your tentative, barely developing Force bond, and his attentions on your neck intensify. His teeth scrape against your scent gland, a hint of what’s to come, and you shiver in anticipation within his arms. Just the knowledge that he’s going to mark you, that Obi-Wan will be your mate very shortly pushes you that much closer to the edge, excited for what this will mean for the two of you.

All of your thoughts are Obi-Wan, thinking of your future together, being bonded so strongly that you’ll never have to endure a heat alone again, never endure anything alone, all because of the new relationship with this man you’ve quickly fallen for since he opened his home and his arms to you.

“Omega- are you ready?” he asks, voice rough at the edges as his pace shifts again, his knot just about beginning to swell.

You moan at the feeling of it, desperate to be completely filled and to feel your alpha’s teeth sinking into your neck. “Yes, alpha, please-”

And he sinks his teeth in. There’s an element of reluctance at first, but you push your feelings of affection and willingness out through the Force, and Obi-Wan breaks the skin, sealing you as his. The feeling, as well as the conclusiveness that you are his and he is yours helps you reach your orgasm, and you clench yet more around Obi-Wan, whose own knot is beginning to catch against you. He pushes it in one final time before being unable to pull out again, moaning at the feeling of you tight around his cock.

Then he’s pressing kisses against the gland, cleaning up the blood from where he’s sunk his teeth in as well as simply providing the affectionate gesture, before gently moving you both so that you’re sitting in his lap and baring his own neck for you to mark in return. You do so happily, appreciating that he’s willing to let you bite him, feeling your connection with the man slot into place. You nuzzle into his neck, wrapping your arms around him and letting yourself relax into the clarity and relief that comes with your mid-heat orgasm.

Obi-Wan reciprocates the embrace, lightly stroking your back with his hand and holding you close to him. “How do you feel, sweetheart?”

“Much better, Obi-Wan,” you say. “Thank you. I hope you’re- okay with everything. That I didn’t pressure you, or anything.”

“I’m more than okay. And I apologise if I’ve been somewhat distant recently. I’ve found it quite hard to open up to people after everything that happened, but with you? You make me want to. I just hope that you could be patient with me, at times, and I want you to know that I don’t regret this at all.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. I don’t regret it either, alpha.” You pause, and grin. “My alpha.”

“My omega,” he responds in kind, going to kiss you. It’s much less heated than the kisses you shared before, but you don’t care, appreciating the softness of his touch. “Is there anything you need?”

You shake your head, and settle back down into Obi-Wan’s arms. “Just hold me for a bit.”

“I can do that.”

You close your eyes happily, basking in the atmosphere of the room. Your Force signature is open, alongside Obi-Wan’s, the two of you feeling comfortable enough to be unshielded around one another. Of course, it still smells of alpha, but your scents have mixed in a way that the room feels like it’s yours now, too. It didn’t happen immediately, but you realise that this place (both the building, and here in his arms) has become where you feel the most relaxed and safe — with Obi-Wan, you’ve found your home.

alpha obi-wan on tatooine round 2: electric boogaloo, I hope you enjoyed it! thank you for reading <3

(a sequel is up! read it here)

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#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi #star wars fic #obi wan x you #alpha beta omega #omegaverse #vi does writing

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jassrain · 1 year

Text

Obi-Wan Kenobi sat on the bench outside the shop waiting for his supplies to be brought out. The awning over the bench only offered relief from the suns, not the heat of the day.

His mount was at a water trough and across the way the Lars family was loading up their speeder. Beru looking lovely, Luke was growing fast, what has it been three months or more since bringing the boy to them? Kenobi shook his head.

Beru spotted him first and waved, then waved little Luke's hand at him, Owen looked over and gave a halfhearted wave, Kenobi would bet the man was rolling his eyes. Owen and Beru started an animated conversation, as animated as little Luke allowed Beru to be while she held him. After a few minutes Owen started across then stopped, his forced smile replaced by a genuine one.

"Hello my sweet" a familiar rough smoky voice said. Kenobi heard that voice a hundred times before he looked over, he followed a pair of knee high boots to bare white thighs past a short skirt and vest over a tunic to a familiar face with wide blue eyes, he couldn't help to smile as he understood Owen's grin.

"Hello there," Kenobi greeted her, he felt relief from the woman but a little knot was forming in his own chest. "Can I help you?" He asked, keeping his calm. Though he still wore the robes he didn't carry his lightsaber as the weapon would only draw unwanted attention.

He felt her eyes scan him before she shrugged. "There was a time I would have felt insulted by that question from you, now, now let's get a drink and have a chat, Kenobi." She waved to one of the few outdoor places.

She was keeping it public, out in the open, the knot in Kenobi's chest eased a little. As she led the way he checked his mount and nodded to the shop assistant who was loading the supplies. He might need to negotiate with the shopkeeper about getting his stuff, especially with the look he got from the assistant.

"You needn't worry, I avoid Imperial bounty work" she said, taking a seat and motioning him to do the same.

"I wasn't worried but that is reassuring, thank you my dear" he responded with a soft smile and taking a seat as directed. "Last I heard you were killed on a mission."

"Yes, but I got better and have been keeping a low profile, like you have lately" she gave a playful smile. "Since I've been seeing you around, I've been wondering what you are doing here?"

"Exile," Kenobi answered softly after a server brought them drinks and left. "You are aware of the events that occured at the end of the war?"

"Yes, the clones turned on the Jedi after the Jedi attempted to assassinate Palpatine….." she started only stopping when he raised his hand.

"That is what the Emperor would have you believe," he did his best to keep the venom out of his voice at the word Emperor, "after General Grievous was defeated several members went to report it to Chancellor Palpatine, before they left it was somehow learned that Palpatine was Darth Sidious, Dooku's Master." He didn't feel the need to add that by extension her former master as well. Her hardened expression was warning enough.

"Sounds like your Order shouldn't have stopped so many of those assassination missions against him" the quip was forced and Kenobi could hear the venom rising in her tone.

"Hindsight, my dear" Kenobi sighed, "hindsight." He suddenly chuckled and started laughing.

"What's so funny?" Asajj demanded giving a look like he went mad.

"Anakin and Mace should have let the Zillo get him" Kenobi cleared his throat and winked. "Now did you seek me out or just happen by and want to say hello?"

"A little of both," her expression softened and her voice calmed with the change of subject, "there were rumors of a Jedi in this part of Tatooine and I couldn't help checking if they were true. I've been quiet and a Jedi puts that at risk."

"I see, well I've been quiet as well. I made a promise to an old friend and intend to keep it. How about you come with me and we can chat more privately. I don't want to have to purchase my supplies again." Kenobi cast a glance towards his now loaded mount and the shop assistant milling around the beast.

"I accept your hospitality. And I found that many of the shopkeepers would skin a Hutt if they could get away with it." Asajj stood leaving a few credits on the table. Kenobi started to place a couple credits as well when Asajj waved her hand against it "on me, my old friend, besides you'll need them for your supplies."

Kenobi did need the credits to get his supplies again, though the shop assistant claimed it was a security fee. He sensed Asajj's amusement as he haggled the amount down.

"I thought I did an excellent job getting his price down" Kenobi commented with a wink to Asajj while they were still in earshot.

"Oh yes," she chimed in with an eye roll and shook her head. In a lower voice "you could have taken them for free."

"Possibly" Kenobi agreed, "but that would create attention I don't want."

Asajj simply nodded and pulled her helmet on, Kenobi pulled his hood up and took the reins to lead the beast out of the settlement and along the road to the Judland wastes.

It was late enough in the day that the road would still be hot but just starting to cool, smarter beings would have already taken shelter by now. A sandstorm started forming in the distance.

"How far is this place of yours?" Asajj asked as the wind picked up.

"Far enough that we won't make it before the storm hits" Kenobi called back over the wind "there's an emergency shelter among the supplies I bought."

"I suggest we use it" Asajj now yelled over the wind "there's an outcropping that'll help shield against the sand."

"Good call" Kenobi yelled back, leading the pack animal to where Asajj indicated. As he did he pulled on a pair of goggles and face mask to protect himself from the sand should he not get the shelter up in time. The mask and goggles looked like something the Tusken Raiders wore, he had asked the shopkeeper but was assured that they were not. After he reached the location he handed Asajj the reins and began rooting through the supplies for the shelter. His hand grasped an anchor and corner of the shelter just as small specks of sand started pelting his robes and stinging the little exposed skin he had. As quickly as possible, though it felt like an eternity, he got the shelter anchored and raised next to the outcropping. The shelter was a metal mesh skin over ribbing to give it shape, it was about two meters wide by about two and a half meters long and stood just over a meter tall.

In the shelter Kenobi listened to the rhythm of the sand pelting the metal skin. Asajj seemed to be doing the same though he was pretty sure she fell asleep. Watching her he was reminded of the feral tookas that were around the temple on Coruscant, the temple staff and various masters discouraged the learners from befriending the creatures. A personal suspicion of his was confirmed one day when he saw Master Yada talking to one of the older feral tookas and give it a bite of sausage from the kitchens.

Looking Ventress over again he noticed she hadn't her lightsabers, just a single saber, he wondered what color it would be since red wasn't her color anymore, well not Sith red at least.

"This weapon is your life" he recalled chiding Anakin everytime he lost a lightsaber. Now the weapon could cost him his life. If an Imperial officer saw it or if one of the stormtroopers was a clone trooper. Carrying the weapon openly was not a wise idea, so he didn't and for now it seemed to be going well. He remembered some of the lessons in lightsaber training. It was questioned what was the point of carrying a weapon, a laser sword, when the galaxy was using blasters and ranged weapons? The question was answered in the next lesson when form three was demonstrated and the blasters were turned against the users.

"You're staring" she half whispered, not opening her eyes and breaking through his thoughts.

Kenobi chuckled to himself "not intentionally, though you're not a bad view, however you're the only view here."

"Are you flirting with me?" Her tone was amused as she adjusted to sit up in the confined space of the shelter.

"Just paying you a compliment" he felt the blood rise to his cheeks "anyway I was wondering about your new lightsaber. But the storm has passed, and we can discuss such things after we reach my place."

"For a moment I thought you were expecting a kiss" she said, stretching as best she could in the confined space.

"Oh no, besides this is not a holo romance" Kenobi chuckled while opening the shelter.

Now she laughed "if it were your tunic would be off revealing you to be more chiseled than the statues that used to be at the temple."

"And you would be wearing a skirt short enough to be confused with a belt, you'd also have a bigger um chest." Kenobi quickly cleared his throat and was quickly out into the cool night air.

“Why do I feel you’ve seen a few of those holos?” She asked, following him out of the tent and stretching again.

“The same way I feel you’ve seen a few of those holos yourself.” Kenobe grabbed the reins of the pack animal and gave her a raised eyebrow over his shoulder. That seemed to quiet her for the remainder of the trip.

The adobe hut sat on a sandstone cliff looking out over the dune sea. The night was clear enough that the Lars homestead was just visible on the horizon. A few moving lights indicated farmhands readying the homestead for the night, briefly Kenobi wondered if Owen and Baru had made it safely, they probably did. Comming them was dismissed immediately as Owen wanted very little to do with Kenobi, often calling him a crazy wizard. Admittedly Kenobi liked how that sounded, better than the truth that could get everyone killed.

"What a charming place" Asajj sneered, taking off her helmet.

"It serves its purpose, a place out of the suns and sand. And with these supplies I'll be a little more self-sufficient." Kenobi shrugged untying the first of the supplies.

"Why out here? Why this planet? You could go anywhere in the galaxy, even with the Empire's chain code requirement." She asked flatly. "It's not like you don't have connections."

"True as a jedi I had contacts, however contacting them puts them at risk. It also has to do with that promise I mentioned earlier." With the first of the supplies in one arm Kenobi unlocked the door and entered, Asajj followed with some of the other supplies.

"This is where you…..exist?" Asajj paused looking the interior over "you really need to get some decor in here, the place looks abandoned."

"I haven't been here long, really just bought the place last week." Kenobi snickered as he set the supplies down and started looking through the room.

There was an alcove with a bed, looked like it would require a matt or something to be close to comfortable. The only sign anyone was possibly living there was a holo display that shifted from image to image. Asajj recognized a couple of the images, Anakin, Padme, Ahsoka and Yoda, even the deceased Dutchess of Mandalore but there were a couple holos she didn't place, an older jedi with long brown hair, a severe look on his face but with a knowing twinkle in his eye. The holo shifted to a group shot of the Dutchess, the severe jedi and a young Kenobi, the Dutchess and the severe jedi were laughing about something and Kenobi looked red-faced. The display shifted to an image of Kenobi and a clone in yellow trimmed airborne armor, Cody she guessed.

"Any idea what became of the clones and that padawan of Anakin's?" She turned to Kenobi as he put away things in the kitchen and the storage area.

"I presume most are still in the military in Imperial service now." Kenobi called back "I'm not exactly in a place I can easily find out, not without drawing attention. Have you heard anything?"

"Just rumors mostly, the 501st has been remade to Vader's Fist and most of the surviving clones are academy instructors for the new Imperial regiments." She answered with a sigh. "Who is Darth Vader and how did he get the 501st?"

Kenobi sat with a sigh, his hand rubbing his face. "Vader was my greatest failure, Anakin fallen from the light," he choked.

"I thought he was the best of you, of the Jedi Order" she commented confused with a quizzical tone.

Kenobi nodded "we thought he was too, as a great pilot and brilliant warrior. He had another teacher, one that taught him in secret and right under our noses, one everyone trusted implicitly."

"Palpatine, Darth Sidious" Asajj chimed in with an annoyed sigh.

#star wars #fanfic #kenobi #asajj ventress

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imarvelatthestars · 2 years

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Thinking about a Boba x reader/oc story where the reader's 1st love was a clone and how bittersweet it would be for her to fall in love with Boba

Her 1st love died in combat, maybe during/soon after order 66? (Idk how that would work timewise, I'm just making it up as I go, but I can brainstorm it. Maybe she was like 18 and her trooper was a young guy fresh out of training and new to the field.) And she spent years afterwards trying to advocate for the clones, say that they are victims of the Empire, etc, and she lives a loner life after a while. Moves to Endor and has a farm where she grows crops and herbs and stuff, trades with the Ewoks, maybe she has a humanoid friend living with her so she doesn't get lonely?

But then circumstances send her to Tatooine (vague plot reasons I dunno 😅) and she brings her entire life with her on her shoulders, in threadbare sacks with her lil forest clothes. Maybe she has a beat up old ship. But she gets to Tatooine, has to start her life over in this desolate place. Encounters a Tusken tribe and it's a big misunderstanding, but she barters some goods with them and it begins a tentative almost friendship. She learns their sign language!

And then one day, she meets the Daimyo. He's wearing his armor and helmet, he's letting Fennec do most of the talking, but then maybe he just says a tiny little sentence. Maybe it's just a "thank you", but she'd know that voice anywhere. Stops dead in her tracks. And she knows her lover is long dead, she knows there aren't many clones left alive anymore, but all those memories come flooding back anyway, and she's absolutely floored.

She doesn't really know what to say, but probably ends up saying something along the lines of "I didn't know there were any clones left". And Boba bristles and puts his guard up, he's prepared to be verbally ambushed with anti-clone sentiment, but then she starts talking about how she worked with the such and such squad/batch/troop and how most of them are gone now and she misses them and it's so good to hear a familiar voice again. And after all those decades, maybe Boba feels his heart soften for once. Feels a bit of tenderness for all those clones that are (were) technically his brothers.

And maybe from then on, the Daimyo goes out of his way on occasion to check on the quiet, kind woman with the sad eyes who lives on the edge of town. They exchange pleasantries and share spotchka and their experiences with Tuskens, and she gives Boba what remains of her herbs she grew on Endor (the special ones that help with night terrors and insomnia)

And she's so in love with him and his personality is vastly different from the clone she 1st loved, but he kisses like him - shy, tender affection hidden behind a rough exterior - and of course he looks like him. Her trooper never got to grow old like Boba. She sees glimpses of him in Boba's shadow. She sees glimpses of what Boba could have been if life had been kinder in the memories of the clones who found families and brothers in the aftermath of the war

(I don't remember a lot of the finer points of Boba's show, but I'm sure there was a scene where we all thought Boba was dead. If not, I can make one up.) Like a building blows up or he gets shot/attacked/etc and she thinks he's dead and it's like her 1st love all over again. Another clone of Jango Fett, another man she's fallen for who fell victim to the Empire and the tragedy that is the universe, dead. And what is even the point anymore??

And then he comes out of the rubble. He's bloody and bruised and his arm is cradled against his chest and he can barely walk, but he's alive. He made it out. Her trooper should have made it out. But Boba made it out. And she gets this sense that maybe her trooper was looking out for Boba, making sure she wouldn't have to keep going alone.

#im fine #i doubt i will ever write the full story of this but i like to brainstorm it #anyone else feeling emo over #boba fett #star wars

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val-aquenta · 2 years

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Jedi June - Compassion

My entrance for Jedi June Sunday Prompt Compassion. Read it here on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39451506/chapters/98737710

The desert finds a way to rub the facades off people, revealing them. Perhaps because of the sand that flies across the desert, the people are rough, blunt, and not fond of hiding or beating around the bush. It’s refreshing, Obi-Wan finds, and reminds him ever so slightly of Mace’s honesty. The less smokescreens between him and whoever he talks to, the easier it is for him to do what he needs. Today, it’s getting kurit fruit.

“5 peggat a fruit and no less,” Pesiri says with an apologetic frown, “damned imperial checkpoints’re driving up the prices, Ben.” The kel dor’s mask rattles slightly as he breathes in. It didn’t do that in the beginning, but Obi-Wan guesses that the price of fruit is not the only thing affected by the rise in Imperial taxation and checkpoints.

A togruta with orange and white montrals passing by scoffs, “five peggat? You’re crazy thinking anyone will pay that.”

Distaste colours the air around Pesiri. “Well I wasn’t talking to you now was I.” The togruta sneers but moves on towards the bar. “Sorry ‘bout him Ben. The locals’re up in arms with the prices.”

“No worries.” Obi-Wan shuffles in his purse for the money. He’d been trying to save up to set up a small farming plot in the basement of his hovel, but the fruit came first now. He took out the 15 peggat necessary for three fruit. He’d wanted four, but he could only buy three. “I’ll have three?”

Pesiri took the money, counted it and then nodded. “Help yourself.” He absently gestures at the kurit. Bowing his head in thanks, Obi-Wan began pocketing three. “Damned imps’re getting desperate. They’re hunting down ‘traitors’ left right and centre.” Obi-Wan tried hard not to flinch. “Caught a Jedi three days ago, I think? Executed him on old Corrie. Front of the palace.” Pesiri sat back into the shade of his stall, a look of disgust pulling his features. “Barbaric if y’ask me. Killing a Jedi right there.”

“Quite.” Obi-Wan manages to cough out, placing the three kurit in his bag gently. He rubs at his mouth, still unused to the way his hair had become coarse on Tatooine.

“Them Jedi. Poor sods. All of them.” Pesiri sighs and shakes his head. “Saved me’n my siblings once. Imperial bastards’re lying about them if y’ask me.”

Obi-Wan tilts his head in acknowledgment, and speaks with caution colouring his tone. “Those words will get you killed, Pesiri. Best be careful what you say.”

Pesiri sighs again, harsher this time. “I know, I know. Doubt they’ll bother much with a small trader on this shithole, though.”

“No, perhaps not. But still, better to stay alive, yes?” Obi-Wan quietly says, straightening. Pesiri nods gruffly in farewell. “Thank you, Pesiri.”

“Be seeing ya, Ben.”

Three kurit heavier, but 15 peggat lighter, Obi-Wan walks away from Pesiri’s stall and disappears into the throng of customers in the market area.

All around him are the yells of customers and vendors. The customer haggle viciously at the elevated prices and the vendors reluctantly lower the prices just slightly. Obi-Wan keeps his head down as though unaffected by any of the noise. He reaches his next stop having only been bothered thrice by desperate vendors offering their wares on foot.

He knocks on the door in three sharp knocks and a nervous face pokes out after a moment. Suspicion turns to relief quickly when she sees its him, though worry still pricks at the corner of her eyes and seeps into the wrinkles of her face. “Ben. You’re here. Good.” Ana waves him in with a casual flick of her olive green skin.

Ana’s an elder of Tatooine who has known no other planet save the one she currently resides on. She hobbles as she moves into the cooler areas of her house. A single green plant, a weed on some other planet that managed to hike a ride to Tatooine, grows tall, defying the belief that Tatooine has no fauna.

“Kitchen’s been dying on me if I turn the heat too high,” Ana points at the small kitchen in the corner where there lies clear signs of tinkering, “I tried all the tricks, I did, but it won’t start now.” Obi-Wan smiles fondly, hidden by his beard. “And the cooler’s started to slow down. Sand’s in the filter, I know, but well…my hands aren’t as good as they used to be for that.” She frowns and readjusts her head covering nervously, peering up at Obi-Wan with dark brown eyes. The black markings on her face, intricate drops and diamonds, are cut across with wrinkles. “Will you help me, Ben?”

He lays a gentle hand on her shoulder, “of course.” It’ll take all evening, definitely. Her cooler is an ancient model that takes twice as long to disassemble and assemble as any of the newer models, but still. Ana’s been a friend to him before; he’ll help her now. “I bought some kurit for you as well.” The smile that winks in her eyes flashes and Obi-Wan can not help but grin back, more visible.

“Too good for me, you are, hmm?” She hobbles over to his bag, undoing the strap and reaching for the three fruits, some of the only fruit soft enough for her to eat. Ana holds them preciously to her body as she moves to the fruit bowl. “You will be having a taste, Ben.” Obi-Wan hums non comitally as he peers at the cooker stove, fiddling with one part or another before determining the issue; a faulty wiring connection. Anakin would have noticed m- He stops the line of thought, blinking and breathing in peace before Ana can notice his pause.

She hums as she cuts the fruit into wedges, and Obi-Wan hurriedly fixes the wiring. “It should be alright now?” He turns it on full heat, watching as it burns for a few seconds before turning it off.

He turns to the cooler, pushing the couple strands of hair that fall into his vision from his forehead. Cleaning the filter is a common task he must complete. It’s relatively easy, but tedious, and it can be difficult for people with hands as old and worn as Ana’s to clean the small filters. He pries off the filtering carefully, laying them down. Gently, making sure that the delicate filters aren’t broken in the process, he brushes off the dust that accumulates. It’s a brainless task, but it takes time and Ana has long since finished cutting her fruit and preparing her latemeal when he finally finishes.

His cramping hands remind him he is getting older, he’s getting older as he is so often reminded. Ana’s stirring the soup on the fixed stove. He wanders to her with the cleaned coolers, “I’ve finished the coolers. Should I install them for you?”

“Yes, but you must have some soup.” She turns and fixes him with a withering look. “Help can be freely given, Ben, as can a gift.” Ben hums and looks at the sky, thinking of when he must be home, and what time it currently is.

“I can’t stay long, Ana, I apologise.” The elderly Mirialan prepares to convince him to stay. “I can, however, have some kurit.” She relents, placated, and turns to grab the bowl of cut fruit. He reaches and reluctantly takes one wedge of fruit, savouring the taste of sweet fruit on his tongue before spitting out the pits once the juice and flesh is all gone. “Thank you Ana.”

She peers at him shrewdly as he reaches to pick up his cloak. “You give too easy, Ben. Giving is, for one like you, easy.” She smiles and offers the bowl of cut fruit again. “You should learn to accept what is given as well.”

Obi-Wan watches the bowl warily, reaching out to hover his hand over the bowl. Ana easily takes one and puts it in her mouth, gesturing to him to do the same. Obi-Wan’s indecision finishes and he picks up another wedge, eating it and spitting out the seeds. Ana reaches for his seeds. “Was it so difficult?”

Obi-Wan grins, chagrined and with a bowed head. “I suppose…not.” Ana smiles and pats his head, leaning up and tugging him to press a blessing to his forehead with her index finger.

“For your safety, Ben.”

He reaches out and returns the blessing, “And with you, Ana.” With one last bow he makes his way back to the stables where his eopie rests.

His eopie is right where he left her, quietly waiting for him to return, hopefully with a small snack of meat he brings when he works. Today there’s nothing and she buts his shoulder when she realises. Nevertheless, she follows easily when he leads her out of the city towards the endless dunes.

#Jedi June #Jedi June 2022 #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Tatooine #Star Wars #Star Wars fanfic #jedi

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ae3qe27u · 2 years

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Star Wars podracing AU

Anakin Skywalker is a young podracing prodigy who's gone largely unnoticed. He's from a poor family (might still be a slave? Indentured servants? Huge family debt?) but podraces when he's able. He's scouted by Qui-Gon Jinn, a maverick with an eye for talent (but it doesn't always pan out). Qui-Gon's apprentice/racer in training is Obi-Wan Kenobi, a young man who's gunning to win.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan race using the Ataru style - lots of showy moves and using the natural elevation of the course to their advantage.

Chancellor Valorum is a politician who is an old friend of Qui-Gon's. Qui-Gon is part of the Jedi Order, a league of racers that are known for their relatively clean approach to podracing. Valorum is a majority shareholder in the Jedi Order.... or something similar to it. Maybe he's part of an old boy's club with the Jedi Council, who are in charge of keeping the racers aligned and in check.

While on Tatooine for a business trip/favor for Valorum, Qui-Gon visits a local podrace to scout for new talent. He sees young Anakin Skywalker, who doesn't finish the race but shows incredible talent. He speaks to him and his mother after the race, and offers young Anakin a spot on his racing team. It wouldn't make too much money for the first few years, as Anakin trains and refines his technique in the smaller races, but it would offer him the opportunity to make a substantial sum as a Jedi Master later on. (Jedi Knights make a good amount, but the Jedi Masters are where the big leagues are. This also sets up tension for why Anakin is upset at not being a Jedi Master when he's on the Council). The Jedi Order also does a large amount of charity work and community outreach, which gives them a pretty good reputation. It's a large galaxy and they only have so many resources, but they do what they can. Their podracers are called lightsabers.

Anakin and his mom consult, and Anakin agrees. He regularly sends money back home to help his mother.

The squad heads back to Naboo. Padme Amidala, the queen of Naboo, was fleeing the country due to civil unrest and maybe still the Trade Federation invasion. Qui-Gon was asked to help get her out of there, due to his skills at stealth and piloting. They stopped in Tatooine for repairs, as the hyperdrive failed and even Qui-Gon's piloting couldn't get them out of there. Jedi have excellent reflexes for humans, which is how they're able to podrace in the first place. This also helps them evacuate from hostile work environments and invading forces alike.

Anyways, back to Naboo. They have to stop by there on their way to Coruscant, and with the invasion, they want to stop by to gather proof and evidence, as well. Maybe.

Off to Coruscant! Qui-Gon and his team escort her there because Qui-Gon wants to meet up with his old friend, Finis Valorum. He also wants to consult with some of the other Jedi about possible placings for his new recruit. (The age probably doesn't matter here - if anything, Anakin might be too young to be accepted). Unfortunately, they don't have time to meet in person at the moment, but a few of them are able to set up a quick holo-call to at least talk about a few rough possibilities. Many of them are concerned that Anakin is too young to podrace - he's just a growing boy, for one, and they may not have any pods that fit him. But Anakin has his own podracer, and he already signed the Jedi Order waiver/pre-agreement forms, so theyre going to have to think about it further after meeting him in person.

Due to the pictoral evidence they grabbed on their way back, Padme is confident enough to reject the idea of a senate commission to investigate the claims, and instead pushes for immediate Senate intervention. (Palpatine gets elected in the next cycle anyways, most likely, but he doesn't get an early start. Or this might help restore Valorum's public image. Who knows?)

A measure is passed to force the Trade Federation out of Naboo space for the next ten years - which is a major/moderate blow to their trade routes, and may also have effects in the distribution of droids in the later Clone Wars. If we get there.

The Trade Federation leaves, ashamed, and while Padme wishes the Trade Federation was punished more, the blow to their trade routes + the autonomy this grants Naboo is good enough for her to be content.

Qui-Gon meets up with Valorum for a walk through the park.

During his next podrace, Qui-Gon may or may not get killed by Darth Maul, a dirty racer who fights with a suspiciously familiar style... and feels incredibly dark in the Force. The Sith are a league of dirty racers, even by podracing standards. Some go so far as to install weapons on their opponents vehicles that they'll then activate remotely, either killing the podracer or knocking them out of the race.

Something about compulsory military service (inspired by Korean IRL), so Anakin and Obi-Wan get drafted/enlisted into the military for a few years. They serve in the 501st and the 212th, respectively.

While Anakin has almost paid off his family's debt to Gardulla the Hutt (Watto feels too small-scale for this kind of money), the interest rates hike up. Anakin is furious, his mother consoles him, and Gardulla just wants to be petty and make money at the same time. To her, the Skywalkers are just one family in her debt. She has many, many more, and more falling in debt by the week/tenday.

Anakin starts to consider racing dirty, or throwing matches for money. To start using weapons on the racing course, instead of just the Jedi's race clean rule (excepting maybe stuff like electroshocks for people who come too close, maybe? Or maybe not). With his military experience, he's now a lot more knowledgeable about how weapons work and how he could apply them... but that doesn't mean that it's right.

With Padme in the picture, there's also the concern of making sure that he can provide for his future family. He starts to flirt with the idea of turning to the dark side of the racing world.

#jedi #star wars #au #podracing #podracing au #qui gon jinn #qui gon #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #anakin skywalker #now this is podracing

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

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Lost Luke Part Two

Continued from here

Star Wars Time Travel AU #19

“Master Owen, may I present two most important visitors?“ C3PO said self-importantly (C3PO! His Mom kept him! His Mom finished Threepio!).

“I'm Anakin Skywalker.”

Anakin was practically vibrating with frustrated uncertainty. He could sense his mother inside- weak, but not so much as his visions had led him to fear. And something else... a powerful but diffuse presence of light somewhere nearby. The man in front of him didn’t feel like a threat but he could practically hear his mother’s screams...

“Oh. Oh! It’s good to meet you. I’m Owen Lars. This is my girlfriend, Beru.”

“Hello.” Beru smiled welcomingly at them both.

“I’m Padme.” This...wasn’t quite what she had expecting. Anakin had been so tense, but the couple in front of them seemed honestly glad to see them, and at the moment Anakin seemed to be more confused than angry or scared.

“Well... I guess I'm your stepbrother. We thought you might show up someday. Luke was convinced you would show up soon but the more time passed, the less sure-”

"My mother is here. I’d like to see her,” Anakin said, mostly managing to make it sound like a request, and not a threat.

Owen nodded. “Of course, come inside. She’s still taking it easy after her ordeal.”

“What ordeal?” Anakin demanded. But before Owen could answer, they had reached the resting alcove and a woman was raising herself from the sofa, eyes lighting up.

“Mom,” Anakin choked out. “You’re- you’re really here. I thought- Are you ok?”

“Oh Ani. I knew I would see you again,” Shmi whispered, eyes brimming with tears.

In their rush to embrace each other, Anakin almost missed a young man slip away from the room, but something caught his eye; he tracked the blonde head as it disappeared around a corner.

“Now that your here, I’m more than ok.” She tried to pull him to take a seat but he stood rigidly, face growing hard.

“So I have a step brother now, huh?” he asked tightly, a million questions passing silently between them.

“Lars is a good man, and a good husband,” she said, cutting to the heart of the matter. He freed me because he loved me, but he did so without any expectations or promises from me. I moved in with him because I cared about him, and because I wanted to. I married him because I loved him. It would mean a lot to me if you would give him a chance. You have... more family here than you were expecting, but they are all your family, not just mine.”

Anakin nodded, swallowing something hard that had caught in his throat.

He pulled back to nod at Padme, who had been quietly waiting in the corner. “You remember the...Queen’s handmaiden, of course.”

“Padme!” Shmi cried, delighted. “How wonderful to see you again. Oh, you look even more radiant than I remember. “They embraced, and Padme smiled, blinking back tears.

“Shmi...it’s so good to see you again. I’ve never forgotten your kindness. I’m sorry, I should have returned earlier-”

“Nevermind that right now, I didn’t let you into my home because I expected something in return. And I’m sure you’ve been busy the last few years-"

She shepherded them both into a seat, and retrieved a pitcher of water to share. “I admit, I assumed when Anakin left to join the Jedi he would be forbidden from maintaining contact with anyone outside the order...” She threw Anakin a questioning look, and he blushed in reply.

“Padme’s a senator. As a Jedi, I was assigned to protect her against some recent threats.”

“I consider Obi-Wan and Anakin to be friends of mine. The Jedi might be forbidden attachment, but the people of Naboo owe both of them a great debt of gratitude.” She laid a hand a hand on Anakin’s arm and smiled.

“Obi-Wan?” Shmi asked.

Anakin and Padme exchanged a startled glance. “Oh right, you wouldn’t have met him...” Anakin trailed off, looking confused by the idea that his Mother didn’t know Obi-Wan. “He’s my Ma- my teacher. And my friend. He’s looked out for me ever since Qui-Gon passed.”

“Qui-Gon died!” Shmi cried, alarmed. “How? When?”

Anakin shuffled awkwardly. “Um...two days after we left Tatooine. I’ve been with Obi-Wan ever since.”

Shmi looked distraught and Anakin rushed to reassure her. “Obi-Wan’s great, I promise! He’s done a great job of taking care of me! He was Qui-Gon’s apprentice, you never met him because he was guarding the ship when they landed on Tatooine.”

“I- I see. So he’s someone you trust, then.”

“With my life. He’s- the Jedi aren’t supposed to admit to attachments, but he’s, well, he’s my family, just as much as your are,” He said, leaning forward earnestly.

“I’m sure he feels the same way about you,” Shmi agreed faintly.

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Anakin responded with a wry grin.

She shot him a knowing look. “I would.” Before Anakin could reply, she moved the conversation smoothly forward.

“Love- I’m so glad to see you, but I must ask, what brings you to Tatooine now? Was it simply hiding the lady or...or did you see something that drew you here.”

Anakin bowed his head. “I saw you- crying out for help. You were in pain, in danger and- it kept getting worse. But now that I’m here” He hesitated, shrinking in on himself, ashamed, “I feel like- the danger’s passed. Owen mentioned you had an ordeal. Did- did someone else already rescue you?”

“Oh Ani- I’m so sorry you had to see that. I’m perfectly fine, now.”

“But you weren’t fine before- and I wasn’t here” he responded, upset.

“I was captured by Tusken raiders.” Shmi said bluntly, and Anakin let out a horrified moan. “Anakin Skywalker, listen to me, this is going to sound strange, but in a way you did rescue me. It’s- it’s going to hard to explain- but- I literally wouldn’t have survived if not for you.”

“What do you mean?” Anakin asked desperately.

She sighed, then called out. “Luke? Luke can you come in please?”

The blonde teen from earlier stumbled in to the room. “Sorry! I wasn’t eavesdropping! I mean- I could barely hear what you were saying anyway.”

Luke glanced around, torn between staring at the three seated at the table. Anakin couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was practically shining with light. Anakin didn’t know why but, for all that the boy before him couldn’t be much younger than Anakin himself, he felt like the force was telling him to protect the person standing before him.

“Hello,” Luke said, shyly ducking his head. “It’s...very nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Anakin said, smiling. “Are you...also my step-brother?” he guessed.

Luke rubbed a hand on the back of his neck nervously. “No- I’m not...I’m not your brother, exactly, though if its easier to think of me that way, I totally understand.”

“Luke rescued me from the Tuskens,” Shmi said with a fond smile.

“You rescued me,” he corrected. “You came up with the escape plan! If it been just been me at that tent- well, I definitely wouldn’t have made it on my own.”

“We rescued each other,” Shmi agreed, making it sound like an old argument.

Anakin rose from the table, bowing deeply. “Then I owe you a debt of gratitude I can never repay.”

“Oh! You don’t- you really don’t have to do that! Please. If anything its the other way around! But anyway, we’re family, there’s no debts with family.”

Anakin grinned. “I would be honored to consider you my family.”

Luke flushed. “That’s- that’s really nice to hear. But you don’t even know me yet.”

“I know enough.” Anakin declared. “I could sense it in the force before I even saw you, but I didn’t recognize it right away. We are family, I know it.”

“Oh,” Luke said, looking starry eyed.

Shmi laughed. “Come on, Luke, both of you sit down before you pass out. I told you he’d be crazy about you. You’re a Skywalker, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes.”

“Maybe I should give you some privacy...” Padme said, inclining her head diplomatically. “I can see this is a family affair...”

“No, Padme stay,” Anakin said softly. ‘You came all this way with me- I’m glad to share something good with you.”

Padme smiled tentatively and they all squeezed together around the low table.

“A Skywalker!” Anakin said, sounding amazed. “You mean- you said I wasn’t your brother but...”

Luke shifted in his seat anxiously. “Ok, this is going to sound crazy-”

“I believe you,” Anakin interrupted. Luke’s joy was leaking out into the force, lighting up the road to an almost visible extent. Between that and the revelation that his mother was safe, Anakin felt practically giddy.

Luke grinned and a flash of relief leaked off of him into the force. He took a deep breath before blurting out “I’m a time traveler!”

Padme froze and Anakin’s jaw dropped. “You’re- how?”

“I have no idea! I didn’t even realize at first, I was so confused why Owen and Beru looked young, I thought I was suffering from Sand Madness at first! But- it’s the only thing that makes sense” The explanation came tumbling out of Luke’s mouth. “I still kind-of think I’m sand mad sometimes, but I’ve been here for weeks now and...I um, know stuff that proved it to everyone. I’m from about 23 years in the future, I think. The calender’s kind-of changed...”

He trailed off, looking hopefully at Anakin.

“You are- not my brother” Anakin said, thinking out loud. “I- I am your Father” he gasped.

Padme startled, “That’s impossible.”

It sounded insane, but when Anakin searched his feelings he knew it to be true.

“That’s what you meant when you said that I did rescue you!” he said, excitedly turning to his Mother. “My son time traveled to save you!”

“I-I really don’t know how it happened,” Luke stammered out. “I didn’t do it on-purpose, exactly.”

“It was the will of the force!” Anakin declared, actually meaning it.

“I was so worried you wouldn’t believe me!” Luke confessed. “But I- I really wanted to meet you.”

“Meet me?” Anakin asked, heart sinking. “I didn’t raise you?”

Luke looked down. “You died- when I was little. I don’t know all the details, but I’ll tell you what I do know.” He raised his head, looking fiercely determined. “We can stop it- I’m sure of it. I already helped save my Grandma, and I didn’t even know what was going on then!”

“You- you did, didn’t you?” Anakin said, choked up with pride. “I- Can I hug you? Son?”

They leaped up from their seats to embrace each other. Every Skywalkers’ eye grew damp while Padme watched dumbfounded at the extremely unlikely turn of events.

Time Travel. Well, if anyone could pull it off, it would be Anakin’s son.

Part One - - - Part Two - - - Part Three - - - Part Four

#my au #star wars #star wars au no 19 #lost luke au #time travel fix it #star wars au #Anakin Skywalker #luke skywalker #so this au is all about Anakin and Luke being super adorably devoted to each other #Anakin's like BABEY? FAMILY? SON? SAVED MY MOM? PRECIOUS BOY?#while Luke's over there like COOL? FATHER? COOL DAD? PLAY CATCH? PILOT?#And its absurd because they ARE LITERALLY THE SAME AGE #but luke IS 100% more baby than anakin on account of not being a child slave and not growing up in wizard cult #like he's not NAIVE #tatooine is a rough place to grow up #but he IS staring starry eyed at his father like WOW MY DAD IS THE COOLEST #and anakin is soaking it up because I AM THE COOLEST #and everytime Luke does something extra in the force he doesn't get jealous like he would any other person getting attention #because THATS HIS SON HE MADE THAT YOU GO LUKE #padme's also charmed but a little freaked out #Obiwan is so tired you have no idea #YOU HAVE A TWIN #WHAT THE FUCK #WHAT THE FUCK ANAKIN HOW COULD YOU NOT MENTION YOU HAVE A TWIN #ANOTHER SKYWALKER #but anakin just smiles knowingly like you L O V E ME #if i died you would TOTALLY become a hermit to watch over my son and tell him cool stories about me #Obi-wan: that is INCREDIBLY specific

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no-droids · 3 years

Text

Beginner’s Luck

Part Twelve of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.6K

Warnings: 👀👀👀 SMUT. Oral sex (male receiving), cockwarming, sexual acts in public, the use of blasters and other canon-typical weaponry

A/N: Twas the night before Mando season 2, and all through the house—NO IM JUST KIDDING SDKSFKSVS anyways I am so sorry for not being here for basically all of last month but I could not miss this incredibly momentous occasion for anything. Merry season 2 my lovely baby yoditos

***

“Well,” a modulated voice gruffs expectantly from behind you, clearly tired of waiting. “Turn around, let me see.”

“No. I look ridiculous,” you sulk from the corner of the hull, refusing to do as he says. You thought this was stupid from the very beginning and openly told him so, but you’re also a complete pushover for him with just enough backbone to be frustrated when you inevitably give in. “And don’t you ‘sweet girl’ me, it’s not gonna work this time.”

“Sweet girl,” Din’s deep voice lulls through the helmet, raspy and soft.

Fucking fine, if he’s gonna twist your arm about it. You spin around with a deep frown and a chrome visor stares back at you as you waddle forwards, and you don’t even need to look at the kid cradled in his forearm to know he’s smiling toothily as you clunk and rattle. Once you’re standing directly in front of them both, you blow the stray hair out of your eyes and plant your hands on your hips, just waiting for the inevitable response.

Only, you don’t get practically any response at all from him. He stays perfectly still and says absolutely nothing, and though the baby’s mouth falls open with happiness and he reaches for you, he doesn’t make a sound either.

“I told you,” you grumble after a few moments of pained silence. “I look ridiculous.”

Still, nothing. You purse your lips, shifting from side to side uncomfortably, and eventually your suspicion grows and festers until it finally bursts forth. Oh for the love of Maker—

“I know you’re laughing under there,” you accuse with a growl. He doesn’t move a single muscle but you don’t buy it, not for a single fucking second.

Then suddenly the helmet glances away from you and stares purposefully at the wall of the hull as the kid starts giggling, and you knew it. You fucking knew he was laughing.

“You look great,” comes tightly through the modulator after a moment, and you pull your lip up into a snarl, vindicated in your findings but not happy about it.

“Is that how this is supposed to protect me?” You wave your arms, hearing them squeak and clank like you’re a droid that hasn’t been maintenanced in centuries. The rough metal jerks up and smacks your chin with the shoulder movement and you grimace. “Make the bad guys laugh themselves to death?”

“It's bad,” Din finally turns back to you and admits with zero shame, and your cheeks burn at how stupid you must look right now. “Way too big.”

“Too big?” You blink at him. “That’s your criticism?”

When he presented it to you, your first impression was some sort of brown paint—but no. It’s fucking… rust. It’s damaged and scraped up and it looks like it’s been through the ringer and back, and not in a way that gives it character. There’s almost a literal hole in the fucking chestpiece and it’s dented so much that it actually creates more than enough space for your breasts, what the fuck happened—?

“You’re telling me you went from this—” You ask pointedly, knocking your knuckles against the ill-fitting piece of metal and feeling it wobble against your chest, “—to that—” you tap the pristine, gleaming armor strapped to his body that easily costs more than probably quadruple your entire life, “—without any go-betweens? It’s missing one of the shoulders, Din.”

He ignores you, flipping the chestpiece over your head with his free hand and letting the metallic clatter of it meeting the floor behind you ring out through the hull. “I’d hoped at least something would fit,” comes his filtered sigh. “This planet isn’t nice.”

That sobers you up a bit, and you feel your heart thump painfully. “Are we on Corellia?” You ask without thinking.

“No,” he tells you immediately, quelling your panic while pulling off your one singular pauldron. “Tatooine.”

You’ve never heard of it, but from the grave undertone of his voice, you know the drill. Different setting, same kind of people. Smugglers, rogues, criminals—the type he’s used to being around and knows exactly what to expect out of them. You always feel safe when he’s with you, but when he leaves?

“Oh,” you say, because you don’t really have anything else. It’s quiet for a little bit, but then he continues on before you can come up with something to fill the sudden uncertainty on your end.

“I know someone here,” Din murmurs, bending his knees and sinking down to start undoing and pulling the shoddy thigh braces off your legs. “Someone… nice. It’ll be safe as long as nobody sees me leaving or coming back, and the kid would be happy to see her.”

Your eyebrows pull inwards, something… unfamiliar settling inside you. Din doesn’t have friends, he’s made it clear that he doesn’t really like anyone that he knows well enough to introduce you to. Even when he’s lowered himself in front of you and is technically undressing you, you feel a spark of… no, not jealousy, that’s crazy. But for real, who is he talking about?

“Why can’t me and the baby just lay low somewhere remote like normal?” You ask instead, but he shakes his head.

“No such thing,” he grunts, pulling off the other thigh brace. “Tuskans or Jawas will find you even in the middle of the Dune Sea.”

“I like Jawas,” you blurt, having had many positive experiences trading with the little creatures on Arvala-7, but his helmet immediately tilts up to pin you in place and you shut up, feeling the tangible unamusement radiating from the thin blade of the visor even when the kid starts giggling again. “I mean I… don’t like Jawas?”

Din sighs and rises back up to his full height, finally handing the baby over to you now that you’re not weighed down by that ridiculous getup anymore. “You can either stay with her while I get the quarry or run the risk of pirates finding you drifting above the atmosphere,” he reasons bluntly, not mincing words. “But it’s not a good idea to be stuck on the surface without protection, someone will find you.”

You bite your lip, hugging the kid closer to your chest for a second. “Okay, that’s fine,” you murmur quietly after a moment. “We can stay with your… friend.”

You clear your throat and move to let him pass by to get to the cockpit, except Din doesn’t take a single step. You blink up at him and after what feels like an eternity of no response, the helmet slowly tilts sideways at you and… oops.

Was that not subtle? You didn’t know what to call her, genuinely, that’s why you hesitated. You didn’t want to use the word acquaintance, it felt too detached for the fact that he said the kid would be happy to see her again. That’s what’s called a friend, right?

Maker, why are you being so weird about this?

Thankfully, you end up getting away with it. After a few painful seconds of looking at every single thing in the hull besides him and humming a song you make up on the spot, Din slowly walks past and disappears up into the cockpit. You take a deep breath and gently rub the baby’s ears between your fingers as the Crest powers up with a ferocious rumble beneath your feet.

***

It’s bright. Fuck, it’s so bright here. You hold the kid to your chest with one hand and shield your eyes with the other as the ramp slowly descends, dust immediately kicking up around it. Din’s palm is resting against your lower back and his thumb gently brushes back and forth, but your heart decides to drop the very moment his hand does, and as soon as the ramp clanks against the landing platform, he’s striding down into the blazing hot desert sun without you.

Something in your chest squeezes and whispers to you that he probably doesn’t want to touch you when he’s about to see an old friend again, so you wait a few seconds of space before descending down the ramp behind him, not really knowing how you feel right now. But you’ve barely taken a single step to follow when a woman’s voice screeches out from across a vast distance. “Oh no, no no no—don’t you even think about it!”

Din slows to a halt at the end of the ramp and gives whoever it is a small nod, nothing beyond it, and if you weren’t purposefully looking at him for cues right now, you’d probably miss the greeting entirely. You stand on your tippy-toes from behind his cape as a fiery little middle-aged lady in a mechanic’s jumpsuit marches up to him with an attitude that more than makes up for the height difference.

“You’re not allowed here anymore,” she pokes his chestplate brazenly with one hand and props the other on her hip, clearly not excited to see him. “Not after the ruckus you caused last time, no sir, not on my watch.”

“That won’t happen again,” he gruffs shortly, not providing a single thing beyond it, and you blink. What… what happened last time?

“It sure won’t!” The strange woman agrees shrilly, crossing her arms and widening her eyes until she looks a bit like she’s been out in the suns too long. “I’m still recovering, Mando!”

“I compensated you,” he reminds her, a quiet edge of frustration beginning to creep into his voice.

She suddenly narrows her expression at him, going from manic desert lady to sharp and discerning skeptic within a split second. “How much do you think my life is worth?”

Din takes forever to respond, seeming to either be choosing his words very carefully or grinding his teeth under the beskar in frustration. Probably both. “I brought my ki—”

“You bring trouble!” She bursts out, stomping her foot on the dusty landing platform and holding her ground. “I don’t care how cute your little one is, go park your ship on some other poor soul’s hangar bay!”

He doesn’t say anything back, staying completely silent while you stand there awkwardly and wait for his response, and it’s almost like you… forgot. How quiet Din can be, how unnervingly little he can choose to offer to conversations until he deems the information absolutely necessary to provide. He allows you to forget that reserved nature of his. He talks to you. He never used to at the beginning, but somewhere along the way it just became increasingly common to hear his voice, both with a high-pass filter and blissfully without. Now though, there’s just too long of a weirdly tense pause in the reunion for you to handle without doing something about it.

So you step out from behind him with the child in your arms, giving her an apologetic smile with as much friendliness as you can possibly put into an expression.

“Hello,” you greet her gently, musically, lifting the baby’s hand to give her a companionable three-fingered wave from the both of you while he coos. “I promise I’m not trouble, but he did bring me along this time.”

Din and the woman simultaneously turn to look at you; her like you’re just as strange and jarring of a sight to see on this planet as the tiny unnamed boy in your arms and him like your voice by itself is enough to loosen his shoulders. Though neither one of them ultimately respond to you, you can tell by the way his fists unclench that you’ve at least helped him relax, even if the frizzy-haired lazy otherwise ignores your introduction entirely.

“Now just what in Maker’s name are you doing with a poor little stowaway like that?” She faces him and pokes his armor again. “You runnin’ a charity out of that battered piece of junk you call a ship?”

“Three hundred credits to let them stay with you for a week,” he turns back to tell her, cutting directly to the chase. Alright, so you don’t really understand their relationship at all at this point. He said she was nice? And yet he’s already bribing her that handsomely?

“Five hundred,” she immediately shoots back, and your heart sinks. Fuck, there’s no way. There’s no way he would spend that much, you’re going to have to find somewhere else to stay.

But… he doesn’t respond. Which you now remember with a jolt of surprise, means confirmation. Not wasting words agreeing, he’d say something back to her if he had an issue. Maker, five hundred credits. You’re starting to wonder if he’s really able to make any money at all doing this, or if the job is just… fitting for him, so he continues to do it. He’s spending more and more credits on you every single time you turn around, and while you don’t feel great about it, you know Din well enough to know he’s stable and independent enough to make the decisions he wants to make.

So you just stand there and hold the baby to your chest, unsure of your place, while Din eventually turns around to face you.

Sometimes, if you’re being honest, you almost find yourself wanting to… do soft things with him that you know you shouldn’t while other people are around. Granted, he’s never told you not to, but the last thing you want to do is undermine his reputation by unintentionally revealing his gentler side. You want to give him a hug and maybe hand him the baby to say goodbye, but you don’t know if that’s how he wants to present himself to company right now. Unfortunately, that ends up translating into you just looking at him and awkwardly waiting to see what he does. Your feelings won’t be hurt if he just takes off without another word now that you know that that’s his intent—you promise, they weren’t hurt the first fifty or so times he’s done it. You understand him, it’s alright, he doesn’t need to—

But then he leans in and lowers his voice until only you can hear it.

“I’ll be back soon,” he tells you, and you feel warmth creep into your chest.

You understand him. Which is why you feel like you could almost burst with how much he didn’t have to say that but chose to do so anyway. You already have a solid time frame—a week—which is more information than you usually get, and it’s such a small thing. It’s insane; if you made a list, you’d have 1) talking to you, 2) knowing his first name, and 3) seeing a glimpse of his forehead as your top reasons why he might care just as much about you as you care for him. That’s insane.

He takes a second to reach a glove out and rub the baby’s ear as he makes his adorable little baby noises up at him, before the helmet tilts back up just slightly to look at you.

“Be safe,” he waits for you to whisper back.

And you think now is finally the time to go, right? Except he waits just a few precious seconds more, just holding there, silently. Maker, you don’t want to miss him, why is he doing this to you? You’re trying to play it cool, see-you-later’s have been commonplace between you for nearing a full year now, so why does it feel like now is the first time he truly doesn’t want to go?

You hold the kid with one hand and start to reach for him the split second he turns to walk away, and you quickly drop it as the dry wind snaps through his cape. He leaves and doesn’t look back.

Still, you watch him disappear, until eventually you’re reminded of your host’s presence with the tap of a wrench against your shoulder.

“Hope you know your way around a hyperdrive,” the woman says with a smirk. Maker, Din didn’t even give you her name, you’re going to have to ask. “Gotta repair at least two of ‘em by sundown.”

You catch the hefty tool with your free hand and turn to her. “Pre-Imperial or post? Never done a restoration, but I’m a quick learner.”

She blinks at you like that was probably the last thing she expected you to say, but you give her the same friendly smile from before and look towards the entrance of the hangar for the ships needing maintenance.

***

So Peli is… a character.

She’s quick and entertaining and whip-smart, but you worry that if she had a whip, she might actually use it. She’s nice—she is, but she damn near works you to the bone once you prove yourself capable. You don’t think she expected the extent of your practical knowledge of mechanics, she went into it assuming you were going to be useless and did a hard U-turn that very first night. You both worked together to fix two malfunctioning hyperdrives by sundown, just like she told you she needed, but then she looked vaguely surprised and nobody showed to pick up until two days later.

The second day is more hectic, and the third day is worse. You cradle the kid on your hip while you work one-handed, smudged grease all over your forehead and sweat sticking your hair to your neck. Using Peli’s sonic shower never leaves you feeling clean no matter how many times a day you find yourself wanting to wash the dust and grime from your body, the same way yours used to back on Arvala-7, and you immediately get why her dark hair seems so frizzy and dry whenever you step out of the stall and catch sight of the similar rat’s nest on your head in the small mirror. Hypersonic waves dry it out more than the blazing hot suns on this planet—you look the same exact way you’ve looked for decades and while you don’t mind hard work, you can’t stand the complete lack of water on this forsaken rock.

Din was right, though. She is nice, but in a way that she never wants anybody else to find out about. She cooks you food every night but expects you to clean the whole kitchen after, she lets you have free reign over the caf maker as long as you remember to make enough for her, and she allows you and the kid to pass out on the beat-up sofa in one of the secluded back rooms for the time being. On more than one occasion, when she assigns you chores that require two hands and a steady focus to complete, you overhear her babytalk behind the control panel as she bounces the kid in one arm and plays with his ears. It fills your chest with a quiet, subtle kind of warmth, and you understand why Din trusts her with him.

At least you stay busy—which, understatement. She works you so hard that eventually she starts handing you tasks that don’t really seem… pressing. Replacing the spherical joints on her three pit droids, hand-scrubbing the grime off the pots and pans she uses to cook the same two meals everyday, polishing the dusty windows overlooking the landing platform even though they’re caked over with dirt not even an hour later. You realize soon enough that she doesn’t have nearly the workload here as she claims, periodically catching her playing cards with the droids while you’re busting your ass doing chores once all the real work has clearly been accomplished, but you’re not upset. You like being busy, it’s how you’ve lived most of your life. However, at some point, you actually end up running out of things to do. After that, it’s like she has to actively look for tasks she still needs completed.

One morning you find her in the parked Crest, ripping open the guidance systems paneling and talking to herself. You sip your caf and watch silently from the landing bay, hair pulled up in a messy bun and the baby on your hip as the suns rise on your shoulders and she mutters, whole sheets of metal being tossed out from the insides of the Razor Crest.

You've also learned she responds incredibly well to the prospect of credits, so you don’t spend too much time wondering what her goal is—find something in the ship for you to fix and then charge Mando extra for the materials whenever he comes back.

Hilarious though, as if there’s anything in your ship that actually needs fixing.

You spin around with a sigh and walk back into the hangar, knowing today will probably be the first slow day in awhile.

***

A few hours later, you’re invited to play a game of Sabacc for the first time in your life.

There are so many rules—so many suits and names to keep track of, so many values to memorize, only to be forced to choose one card after every round to keep just in case the rest of them happen to shuffle at random, which occurs at least once or twice every game. There’s too much luck involved to figure out any sort of strategy; you feel like sometimes you’re hopelessly lost and end up winning anyways or you wager nearly your entire stack of bolts on a perfect hand and then you lose the entire thing regardless.

It’s an unpredictable nightmare. But it’s something to do, and you’ve learned that playing just as stupidly as you bet allows you to easily stay in the game. The baby sits in your lap and plays with one of your rusty metal gambling pieces while your leg bounces, and Peli grumbles under her breath once it appears you get ahead of her in winnings.

“Beginner’s luck,” she tells her favorite pit droid quietly, who focuses its singular eye at you in a way that somehow feels unfriendly and nods on a brand new swivel, courtesy of yours truly.

You don’t argue, because there’s no point. The whole fucking thing is luck, but there’s no point. You know enough about this game to know that you might give something away if you speak, so you keep your mouth shut and let her fill the void. You know how to stay silent, you’ve learned from the best. Wordlessly drawing a card from the deck and tucking it in between two others of the same value, you decide to trade one of your other cards at complete random and hope it all just works out.

“Ship looks like it’s brand spankin’ new on the inside,” Peli mutters into her mug out of nowhere, and you pause for a moment, before silently nodding at the offhanded comment and trying not to show how pleased you are by it. “Was falling apart the last time I saw it.”

You keep bouncing the kid on your knee and fan out the cards in front of you, hoping his big black eyes aren’t reflective enough to reveal your hand. “I have a lot of free time.”

“I can tell,” she acknowledges, crossing her legs and leaning back into her chair. Peli sets the mug down and sighs. “You’re a good mechanic. I’d offer you a job here, but something tells me you wouldn’t even consider it.”

Now, you do smile. But it’s a hidden one. A fond one. One you find impossible to fight when you’re reminded of him. You miss him and ache for him and all those collectively angsty things, yes—but mostly you’re just… able to find a bone-deep solace in even thinking about him. Your heart tightens, but it’s far less constricting than it is a comfort, a firm embrace. It surrounds you in its safety; Din’s mere existence is your protection, wrapping around you the same way the beskar protects him. Nothing can touch you. You’re safe, from all the things you used to fear and all the new things you’ve learned to fear.

No, you’d never consider it. This planet is too much like Arvala-7, just slightly more populated and dangerous. You love the baby. You love him. You’d never consider it.

“Don’t you get bored?” She asks you with a raised eyebrow, and your smile admittedly drops the slightest bit. “Just waiting around for him to come back?”

You don’t have to think about your answer. Of course you do. If you’re being honest, it does feel a bit like your life is split between worlds—one with him, and one without. Whenever he’s not here, you’re thinking about how much you want him to come back, and whenever he is here, you’re thinking about how much you don’t want him to go. You’ve never experienced anything like that before. There were a few local farmers scattered far across the arid landscape of the place you used to call home, and three of your neighbors all had kids around your age. So you experimented when you were younger, since you never had much else to do in your spare time, but you never loved any of them. You’d always go back home and continue to do chores, continue to look up at the sky and wonder what you were missing.

“Yes,” you admit quietly.

But what you don’t tell her is that in exchange, you get to see the galaxy. You get to have experiences you’ve only dreamed about, take care of the cutest little baby you’ve ever seen and become part of a family. You don’t know of anything you could want more. Adventure, companionship, pleasure, and fulfillment. Sure, you get restless, and sure, you don’t necessarily feel good about the fact that Din seems to be your driving force even when he’s away, but you know independence. You know what it means to live for yourself. You’ve done it long enough that you’ll never forget how to, you’ve experienced it more than enough to know you’re happy about throwing yourself off the cliff and falling into something different. As much as it’s new and terrifying, it’s better. Now you have other people to live for, too.

You marvel at the change—not just from a year ago, but from a handful of months ago. He used to terrify you. You used to keep your mouth purposefully shut around him because you were scared of overstaying your welcome and being dropped off somewhere equally as remote as the place you grew up. Never could you have imagined that the fiercest guardian the galaxy has ever seen would decide you’re also worth protecting.

No, you figure, you just need to… find something in addition. Something else to also commit to, give yourself something to do. You can practice the new self-defense maneuvers he taught you, that’s a good idea. But maybe you can also…

You eventually decide to prompt Peli in a change in conversation. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“What do you want now?” She takes another sip of her caf as if you’ve been bothering her about this all day long, and… well, it’s times like these that you wish you had a helmet, too, if only so you could roll your eyes.

“I’ve got a few pieces of rusted metal in the Crest,” you eventually tell her, careful with your phrasing and not sure how much you want to reveal. “They’re in bad shape, but I want to keep them. Could I use some of your tools here to hammer out some of the dents, dissolve whatever crud is on the surface? I saw you have a forge back there that’s barely been used, just need the metal hot enough to be pliable without sacrificing its integrity.”

She furrows her eyebrows at you. “But I still need your help with…”

You wait, but she’s got nothing and you both know it. Still, you keep a pointed silence and wait for it, wondering if this’ll actually work. This is what Din does, right? Just refuse to say anything and make the other person crumble under the crushing quiet? Miraculously, it proves to be successful—you watch her flounder for a response, her will wavering the longer you sit there and stare expectantly at her.

“Fine,” Peli finally acquiesces, and you grin. “But only if you win this round. What d’you got?”

You set down your cards to reveal your hand. A perfect twenty-three if you’ve been counting right, unbeatable unless she or any of the droids managed to get the same, and you know it didn’t happen as soon as she takes a few seconds for mental math and then scoffs.

“Beginner’s luck,” you tell her kindly, pushing all your winnings back over to her side of the table with one hand and scooping the kid up with the other, before turning around and heading towards the Crest in search of Din’s old armor.

***

It’s late afternoon on day five and you’re on your back on a creeper seat, sweat dripping down your neck as you reach up to fiddle with the engine of a T-16, a Skyhopper similar to one you built yourself on Arvala-7. They're not space-faring vehicles, they’re only capable of reaching the upper troposphere, but owning one allowed you to develop solid flight skills without ever truly being able to leave. Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever despised a ship more.

You know you’ve got engine grease all over and you feel like you’re boiling in your own sweat, but you’re almost done. After this, you’ll be able to go back to working on your side project.

As soon as you’d been granted Peli’s direct permission to do so, you mixed the chemicals necessary to eat away at everything besides the basic structure underneath, and then spent all day yesterday manipulating the metal to better fit someone your size and shape. You slaved over the wickedly hot forge and developed a whole new muscle in your arm from hammering and reheating, hammering and reheating. You had to repair the way the chestpiece was tapered into a concave point by folding the thin metal back in on itself multiple times, strengthening it without flattening it back into its original shape too much, and then you ended up melting down some of the extra material from the needlessly large shoulder and thigh pieces to fill in the gaps.

Granted, you still have a ways to go on replacing the crushed magnetics box that was falling off the chestpiece and filing down the rough scrapes and sharp edges, but you’re now left with almost a full set of armor that’s a uniform dull silver in color and molds way better to your general figure than before. You’re not a blacksmith or armorer by any stretch of the imagination, but you’re good with your hands and did what you could in the time allotted. It looks better than you ever thought it would, and without access to Peli’s enormous collection of tools and machinery, you know it would’ve been better off in the trash.

Still, you have to finish this engine first before you can rip apart the control unit wiring on the armor to see how the whole set fits together and what else needs to be repaired. You’ve been working on it for a few hours before you hear the door to the hangar open. Yet, when you don’t immediately hear Peli’s voice calling out to you, or anyone else’s voice for that matter, your heart thuds in your chest with sudden excitement.

“You’re back early,” you tell the engine suspended over your head, knowing he must’ve already thrown the quarry into the Crest parked outside before coming to see you. Right on time, footsteps approach and then a boot carefully catches the flat platform between your legs, slowly rolling your seat out from under the ship until the rest of the sunlit hangar is revealed to you.

You know you must look a hot mess right now. Your hair is a disaster and there’s not a clean spot to be found on your body—sweat glistens and pools along every curve you have and you’re probably drenching the spare jumpsuit Peli let you borrow, but Maker, there he is. Every time you see him is like the first time all over again, except this time the Mandalorian is looming like a giant over you, the helmet tilted down and silently taking you in.

Instead of settling you, his daunting presence gets you hotter than dual suns in the sky ever could. Fuck, he hasn’t said a word to greet you, and yet you’re already wondering if you can entice him to shove you back under here and join you.

You slowly push yourself upright and he steps back just enough to allow it, but not an inch more than that. You have to crane your neck up to keep looking at him, and he stands close enough over you that you wouldn’t have to reach far at all if you wanted to touch him.

And it’s crazy to think that… you absolutely could touch him, if you wanted. He radiates danger, he hunts and tracks for his continued survival, he’s probably got fresh blood staining the dark fabric of his cape and he’s so fucking intimidating—and if you wanted to, you could touch him.

Maybe you can partially blame your sore muscles as to why you immediately drop your head back down, but mostly you just want to stare at a part of his body that happens to align perfectly at eye level. And fuck, nothing stops you from looking. He doesn’t help you up, but he also doesn’t move so you can haul yourself to your feet, either. He just holds perfectly still with his body standing tall over yours, content to stay exactly like this while your hand slowly reaches out to wrap around one of his ankles.

He’s so warm, his muscles flex strong under your palm as you let it drift upwards, biting your lip as you flick your gaze back up to the chrome visor and then down again to the apex of his thighs. Your other hand comes up to scale the beskar strapped to his leg and you roll yourself forward slightly, wondering if he’d let you…

The black fabric stretching over his crotch just barely touches your fingertips before his hand is suddenly whipping out and grabbing hold of your wrist.

You gasp and jerk your head up to look at him, somehow equally hoping that you’re both in trouble and not in it at the same time. Din’s abruptly chest raises with a large, labored inhale, as if he wasn’t breathing at all that entire time, as if he just now remembered the setting, the fact that he’s not alone on the Crest with you right now. Peli and the kid have to be somewhere in the hangar, you know that, but…

“We’re leaving tonight,” he breathes out through the modulator, and you have absolutely no fucking problem with that at all. “But… shit, but…”

“But…?” You prompt, wanting nothing more than to let your hands reach back up to his pants again, but you settle for slowly dragging one palm up his forearm as his grip on your wrist tightens.

“Fuck, I wanted to take you somewhere first,” he groans like your feather-soft touch is actually hurting him, his hands suddenly dropping yours and pushing you away to clench into fists at his sides. “Maker—why do you always f-fucking do this to me…”

You raise an eyebrow at him this time, the curiosity starting to mix with the heat simmering down low, the kind that you'd feel even on a frozen wasteland of a planet as long as you were with him. All at once, you decide to channel him and his trademarked silence, enthralled by the incredibly slim chance that it will work equally as well on its creator.

“…Distract me,” he finally growls out an answer to the question you never asked him, sounding frustrated with you for reasons you still haven’t figured out, and your mouth is drier than the desert outside. Oh stars, you feel… fucking powerful. “From everything,” he goes on, talking honestly and openly, more words given to you in thirty seconds than he’s probably offered to anyone all week long. “Fuck, I feel like I can barely do fucking anything anymore, I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Your heart slams in your chest, wondering if he possibly feels the exact same way about you as you feel about him. Missing you whenever he’s gone, dreading the moment he needs to leave again whenever he’s with you. The thought alone is enough to set off fireworks through your veins, pumping hope and excitement from your fingers to your toes.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out, biting your lip in a way that doesn’t look or feel sorry at all.

“No, you’re not,” Din grunts, before reaching out and hauling you to your feet, and even if there wasn’t a flat seat under you with wheels, it’d still be awkward and uncoordinated as fuck. “Shit. I… I need to clean up. Grab your things, go tell…”

Din trails off after a second, suddenly sounding at a complete loss. You catch your footing and stare at him as he falters. “Uh. Go tell…” He gestures with a sense of finality to the control room, as if he’s actually successfully communicating with you by doing so. “Her. That we’re leaving tonight.”

“What?” You ask him, thoroughly fucking confused. “What are you saying right now?”

“The woman,” he clarifies, clearing his throat. “The mechanic, with the… droids. Tell her I’ll pay her before we leave, but we’re g—”

“Peli?” You blurt, completely flabbergasted at this point. “Did you forget her name, Mando?”

“I…” he shakes his head slightly at you, like you should already know him better than that. “Never asked.”

“But you—?” You blink at him. “But you said she was your friend?”

“You said she was my friend,” he immediately points out, with—oh Maker, just biting accuracy. It wasn’t necessarily a jab or anything, but you still feel dizzy with how fucking spot on he is about it. Yikes, you absolutely did say that. You forgot.

“Oh…” you mumble, at a stunning loss for a response. “Ha. Oh. Yeah, huh.”

There’s too many beats of awkward silence after that, probably because he’s just so blown away by your way with words that he’s just attempting to analyze the wisdom. Stars, you’re making a complete fool of yourself in front of him, aren’t you?

“Were you jealous?” He suddenly asks, and you jerk upright, your heart kicking up to a gallop in your chest at the question.

“I’ll go tell Peli we’re leaving soon,” you quickly agree and go to scurry away in abrupt panic, but he catches your wrist and hauls you back before you can get far. You run into him with a gasp and immediately start to repeat your explanation for why you very suddenly need to depart, but the tips of Din’s fingers catch your chin and force you to look up at him.

“Hey,” he cuts your rambling short with a hushed murmur and the pad of his thumb brushes down your jaw. “Tell me the truth.”

You don’t have an answer that won’t be incriminating, and you don’t think you can get the delivery right on a lie, not to him and especially not when he’s got you so cornered. So you just keep completely silent and look up at him like a scolded child would. Innocent, wide-eyed and scared shitless about the unknown consequences of your actions.

His helmet slowly tilts as he studies you, watching you look up at him for help. His fingers gradually spread out across your jaw, flattening under the curve of your throat but so gentle, so careful that you’re almost worried he actually is mad.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately offer before he can say anything, your eyebrows pulling up in the middle. “I’m so sorry, it’s just—I just…”

His thumb carefully stretches up to brush your bottom lip, and you… Mind blank, no thoughts. Stars, you’ve got fucking nothing.

“I’ve got nothing,” you admit, giving up before you can even try. “There’s no reason. I was jealous. It’s stupid and I wasn’t going to say anything because I know it’s stupid, and I shouldn’t feel possessive over you but I do, and it’s stupid. I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I know you, and I’m really sorry if that makes you feel weird, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t have—”

Your chin lifts slightly with the gentlest movement of his hand and the subtle pressure is enough to cut your mindless oversharing off. Din’s voice lowers until it’s throaty and quiet.

“See that wall?” He asks, keeping the visor pinned to you while carefully turning his hand to the right, and your whole head easily follows the movement as he guides it. You have to blink your eyes into focus a few times, but then you immediately see what he’s talking about. It’s a partition separating the welding room from the rest of the hangar. He waits until you nod in the cradle of his palm, before leaning in and murmuring to you. “If we were alone, I’d take you around behind it and show you exactly how that makes me feel.”

You pull back from him with a startled gasp just as a voice calls out from the entrance of the hangar. “Well, look who finally decided to come back!”

Din slowly drops his arms and stares at you for just long enough to make you seriously worry that he’s going to say fuck it all and do it anyways, before finally turning around and greeting Peli with another silent nod.

She plants one hand on her hip once she’s standing right in front of him, cradling the kid on with her other arm, and you have to take a second to collect yourself now that you’re not at the direct center of his attention anymore. “Sure did take you long enough, didn’t it?”

“I’m two days early,” he grunts in his immediate defense, but it’s like she doesn’t hear him.

“You’re leaving soon I hope,” she drawls while handing the baby over to him, who makes an adorable little happy squeak at seeing his dad again. “You owe me five hundred credits.”

“It was five hundred for the full week,” he reminds her, and… he has a point. Though it was never part of the agreement, you wonder if she’ll be willing to accept less compensation for having the burden of your company be lifted early.

“Five days count as a full week, far as I’m concerned,” she shoots back, and your heart suddenly sinks when Din’s shoulders tighten and he doesn’t respond.

“Peli…” you sigh from behind him before you even realize you’ve spoken aloud.

Your host quickly sidesteps your bodyguard to eye you dubiously, and at the same time, you also jolt and wonder what your goal is here exactly. You’re ultimately just attempting to diffuse any tension sparking between them, you figure, knowing you’re probably the best mediator here. She looks at you up and down for a long time, hard and judging, before the baby babbles something wordlessly and she sighs.

“I suppose we can just call it even,” she finally huffs, turning back to him. “You’re lucky your girlfriend earned her keep, Mando.”

And then your jaw drops. Holy shit, is she serious? You assumed Peli valued credits above almost anything else, you never expected her to just… turn down the entire offer like that, so willingly. Clearly Din didn’t either, because you both just stand there for a moment in front of her in a baffled silence.

Also… girlfriend?

Is that what you are to him? Admittedly you haven’t talked to him about what to call your relationship, but then again, you’re a practical person and you never really saw a specific need to do so. You care about him, he cares about you—what else is important? You don’t need a title to recognize your value to him, and for some odd reason, calling yourself his “girlfriend” just feels like you’re a teenager again. If you were actually looking for a different word to use instead, you wouldn’t be able to find it, but you know that one just feels… not enough. Not old enough, not encompassing enough, not complex enough. It’s an elementary school version of what this is. And to refer to someone like Din as your boyfriend? Maker, just saying it aloud would probably make his eye twitch.

“Uh.” He stands there awkwardly, and you’re so blown away by both the sentiment and specific verbiage she used that you’re practically useless at this point. Shit, what’s beyond girlfriend, you wonder? Lover? No, not good enough. Partner? No. No, not wife, definitely fucking not— “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peli waves him away and spins around to leave, but not before throwing one final thing over her shoulder. “That ain’t an open invitation to come back, by the way.”

All of a sudden, you just can’t stop yourself from breaking out into a wide grin, tucking your chin in hopes that she won’t see it with her back turned and decide to pounce on the display of weakness. The three of you watch her stride out of the room and immediately bark an order at one of her droids to get back to work, who starts looking around in desperate search of something to do, and Din’s palm finds its usual place on your lower back as she disappears.

“What a nice lady,” you offer to him, and he gives you a wordless grumble in response.

***

So it’s a couple hours later and you think the kid might actually have the right idea this time.

You find yourself wishing you had a little hover pod of your own that followed Din around, one you could close the lid on and hide in while blaster fire whistles through the air around you like the baby is currently doing. You’re trying to listen to instructions—you’re trying, but there’s a lot going on here. Voices chatting, guns firing, targets being pinged, a lively little band playing in the cantina next door.

When Din first led you through Mos Eisley and inside this specific adobe hut, if you’re being completely honest, you had hoped for food. A comparatively large restaurant, perhaps? Peli didn’t starve you by any stretch of the imagination, but her dinners were the exact same every single night, and you’ve learned to thrive on new things. While you didn’t necessarily think he was going to take you on a… a date, or anything, you certainly didn’t expect him to take you to a shooting range.

Well. Now that you think about it, this might actually be a date.

Luckily you’re hidden away in the furthest firing partition from the door, but even without the near-constant barrage of gunfire to your left, the distractions are still plentiful. The kid actually reached down and pressed the button to close his crib himself as soon as the bright beams of plasma started zooming past and reflecting in his large black eyes, and oh how you wish that were you. You don’t necessarily feel like you’re in danger or anything, but you’ve also never seen so many guns in one place before and you’re worried you’re accidentally going to hurt someone else.

So far Din has taught you the fundamentals for any firearm—always keep the safety on until you’re ready to fire, never point at anything unless you’re a hundred percent willing to shoot it, yada yada yada—and also the safety fundamentals for blasters specifically. So, making sure there’s no leaks in the gas cylinder when you first load it, never letting a strong magnet get near the power pack, checking the surface of your target for deflection curves if you want to prevent a ricochet, or maybe in his case, inspire one. He’s taught you your stance, he’s taught you how to read your sights, now all that’s left is just to… shoot.

Your arms raise up in front of you and the metal feels too heavy and awkward in your hands, and you have to hold the handle in your left and creep your right index finger all the up the side of the barrel until you feel the indented safety switch. It clicks and you reset your grip to slowly ease your finger onto the trigger, staring down the sight, right at the bullseye. Din is standing directly behind you next to the kid’s tightly closed hovering pod, arms crossed and just waiting for you to pull it.

Come on beginner’s luck, come on beginner’s luck—

You fire, and… well. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a shot miss its target that spectacularly in your entire life. You’re almost surprised the beam of plasma didn’t somehow ricochet back into the booth you’re both standing in, that’s how spectacularly you missed.

“Try again.”

There’s no amusement in his voice, nothing mocking about it. Pure monotone under the helmet, as if he was just naturally expecting that to happen.

No, you think in frustration. You want to surprise him again, impress him with how quickly you can pick things up, turn him on like last time. You just fucking know that would get to him—seeing you easily hit the target dead center with his own blaster, you know that would get to him.

You adjust your aim and fire a few more times. Miss, miss, wild miss, miss. Fuck, so many distractions, plasma flying in the corner of your vision and an increasingly heavy gaze from behind you. Another miss, a miss, yeesh that’s a miss—

Alright, so you're just embarrassing yourself at this point.

“I think it’s broken,” you shrug in defeat, taking a second to find the safety switch and toggle it before going to set the gun down on the raised adobe platform separating the line of booths from the targets—but then Din suddenly snatches the blaster from your grip and extends his arm over your shoulder, firing off six rounds in rapid succession so wickedly fast that you jump backwards into his rock solid chest in surprise. He doesn’t give an inch under the collision and even wraps his forearm tight around your tummy as he hits the bullseye with such deadly accurate precision that even the char marks and the line of smoke left wafting from the target’s center are razor-thin.

“Works just fine,” he grunts, setting the weapon back down again before urging you forward a bit. “Go ahead, give it another shot.”

But you’re on a remarkable delay, just trying to process his sheer speed, how fluid and seamless the entire fucking motion was. Fucking Maker, blink and you’d miss the whole thing. He waited to grab the gun from you until you turned the safety on, but then… then how did he fire it so insanely fucking fast? That’s like five different things he had to do with one single hand within a split second…?

“I turned the safety on,” you blink down at the blaster, clearly just trying to process.

“Yeah,” he agrees blankly, as if he’s unsure as to what specifically you’re so stuck on right now.

“So how did you toggle so fas—?”

He picks it from the shelf gracefully and lightning quick—as if he just can’t help but go that speed around his weapon—and then he twists it on its side, flexing his wrist back until the barrel is pointed upwards and you can clearly see his index finger extend all the way up to the safety switch, flipping it up and down while his middle finger rests over the trigger guard.

“How in the f…?” You mutter, lifting your hand up next to his and positioning your fingers in the exact same L shape, only the tip of your index finger barely stretches an inch shy of the switch. “Psh,” you huff, dropping your arm back down again. “Design flaw.”

“For you,” he acknowledges, using the trigger guard to flip it back to its proper position in his hand like fucking spinning it like that is just the easiest and most natural way to handle the deadly weapon. “This gun was made for me, it’s a feature. Yours would be smaller and lighter, have the safety towards the back of the chamber instead of along the barrel.”

The words and the casual display of ability cause a rush of stirring excitement to burst forth inside you, suddenly giddy at the very thought.

“Wait,” you draw the word out with a grin, leaning back into him and gently nudging him with your elbow to make sure he knows you’re only mostly joking. “You gonna buy me a blaster, Mando? I did earn my keep this week, didn’t I?”

“Have to find one that fits a big enough sight first,” he mutters while setting the gun down on the table, and you scoff at him as his hands come to rest on your hips. They squeeze and try to guide you forwards once again. “Prove that you can at least hit the target with mine and we’ll see.”

“You only get to make fun of me if you give me a real answer,” you rule, planting your feet and refusing to budge.

“Okay, but we both know I’ll make fun of you anyways,” he sighs, and you have to dig your heels in and push back into him to keep yourself rooted to the spot.

“You’re not being a very encouraging teacher,” you accuse without trying to hide your grin. “In fact I feel very discouraged right now and I think that y—”

But then Din suddenly tips his helmet closer to your ear and lowers his voice, cutting you off. “Did you know that gifting someone a weapon is considered a proposal of marriage on Mandalore?”

Your smile quickly drops and you gasp, wholly startled at the implication and immediately trying to spin around to look at him. “Holy shit, are you serious?”

“No,” comes his modulated grunt, tightening his hold and keeping you firmly facing forwards. “Of course not. Pick up the gun.”

Okay.

Okay, so that one gets you.

You immediately start giggling, painfully aware that this isn’t the time or place for it, but that one actually fucking got you. Din easily guides and parks your gullible ass in front of the window carved out of dried mud before picking up the blaster himself and forcing you to hold it with your loose hands, grumbling under his breath.

Shit, okay, focus. Focus, you can do this. You clear the laughter from your throat and suddenly get deadly serious, staring your target down like it’s personally gone out of its way to ruin your entire life. The blaster feels cold in your palms but not when Din’s hands wrap warm and tight around the back of yours, letting you hold the gun how it’s most comfortable for you before gently settling his fingers down over yours. His chestpiece presses tight against your shoulder blades when he guides the gun up and out, and his arms are long enough to extend yours fully even though he’s behind you and still has some bend to his elbows. He uses his feet to kick your ankles apart until they’re shoulder-width and then you both carefully find the trigger together.

He’s quiet and slow about it and the whole thing is one giant fucking turn-on. Maker, chill out. Chill out, he’s teaching you how to shoot. This is important stuff, there are people around, chill out…

Din takes a moment to aim the barrel and his hold is so fucking steady, so unwavering and strong. You wonder if it’d be too obvious if you pushed your hips back a little, you might be able to feel his—

“Fire,” Din murmurs next to your ear, and you pull the trigger without a second thought.

The bright red plasma beam launches from the end of the blaster and hits the target dead center. You gasp, pulling the trigger again, and unsurprisingly, it’s another perfect shot.

He suddenly lets go of your arms and takes a small step back, but the second he removes his body from yours, the rounds start bouncing wildly off the edges of the target. Your eyebrows furrow and you try to emulate how you think the angle felt before, but you can’t find it anymore and you’re just failing spectacularly.

When you decide to pause for a second, Din steps up close behind you and wraps his arms around you once more. You can feel the exact moment he’s locked in his aim, and you fire wordlessly as soon as you know it’s going to hit. Bullseye, right on the nose.

This time, he lifts just his hands away from yours, staying perfectly still otherwise and you swear you don’t move a single fucking muscle in your entire body before pulling the trigger, but it still hits the far corner of the target.

“It’s broken,” you shrug once again, and Din drops his helmet to your shoulder with a sigh. “This gun was made for you, which means there’s obviously some mod you have installed that reads biometrics and ruins the shot no matter how good it—”

“Not even close, but that’s not a bad idea,” he tells you, watching you click the safety on and set the uncooperative blaster down. “I can’t figure out what you’re doing wrong. Are you just distracted?”

Uh, fuck yeah you are. So much is going on and more than that, he’s here and he’s just… fuck, you know what he meant when he said he felt like he was losing his mind. He’s your biggest distraction, all the time. He’s still standing so close to you and the baby is still isolated and tucked away in his hovering sphere, and you take a moment to think about it.

Yes, it’s… it’s possible that you may learn better by example than anything else.

“Can I watch you do it?” You ask him, and Din shrugs before reaching around you and quickly grabbing the blaster from its mud shelf. “Wait—” you tell him while he raises and extends his arm over your shoulder, and then you wiggle sideways as much as possible in the small booth to squeeze around behind him. He doesn’t say anything as you swap places with him and scoot up behind him, but you can tell by his body language that he’s confused. You wonder if he liked that position and watching you shoot his gun, even if you’re complete shit at it.

He stands in front of you for a second and you give him an encouraging, “Okay,” to let him know you’re ready, but then the helmet turns back to look at the target like he’s still unsure as to what you want specifically. You keep your mouth shut and let him figure it out. You meant what you said—you want to watch him shoot. You want to watch him where he’s infamous, watch him do what he’s best at and let completely loose in front of you.

As if it finally clicks for him, Din turns to face the target and suddenly throws the blaster into his left hand while reaching down and pushing a button hidden under the hollow platform with his right. You have to lean around his broad shoulders to watch the target slide backwards on its track easily triple the distance before squeaking and slamming to a stop. Din stretches his non-dominant hand out and subtly tilts his helmet before firing six times, easily hitting the bullseye with just as much accuracy as before, and you frown when you notice the only shots that have actually hit the target so far have all been dead center.

He sets the gun down and stands there for a second, staring across the range like it’s nothing at all to him and it’s… remarkable. Not that he’s a wicked shot, you’ve known that the second you laid eyes on his armor all those months ago. No, it’s just… you would think this is where he’d thrive, if anywhere. The entire place is full of smugglers, raiders, scavengers, mercenaries—occupations that define themselves by their grit. They’re talking as much as they’re shooting, conversing in languages you’ve never heard but suspect Din easily understands. But instead of fitting in, he’s just… there. He doesn’t look comfortable, but he also doesn’t look uncomfortable, either. He doesn’t look like he’s having any fun at all.

None of this is considered a hobby to him, you suddenly realize. It’s not fun because he’s too good at it. This is life. This is going back to school for the most basic fundamentals of a job he’s excelled at for decades—it’s not interesting, he’s gaining absolutely nothing from practicing.

You try to think of the last time you’ve seen him truly in his element. You think back on all the different settings—he looked out of place on Canto Bight, got into fights on Corellia, hated Coruscant, seemed stressed on Nevarro, and even on Naboo, even in the middle of paradise, he looked unsure if he actually deserved to be there with you. Now here on Tatooine, where he has real people that he trusts, where he’s surrounded by like-minded individuals shooting his favorite things in the world, it’s like he’s still not able to fully let go.

Is it just you, you wonder? Does he stand out more just because you’re the one looking?

No, you think. No. You have seen him relax. You’ve seen him laugh before, you’ve seen him be himself with you.

But… only with you. A hardened bounty hunter that much prefers the company of a young woman and an infant to literally anyone else in the galaxy.

Fuck. Why does that turn you on so fucking much? It’s the display of prowess, the sheer skill he’s developed, how fucking deadly he is—and how you’ve felt him use that trigger finger to trace slow circles around your clit. The Mandalorian standing with his blaster raised has probably been the last thing too many people have ever seen in their lifetimes, and yet watching from this angle just makes you feel protected, guarded, and… so fucking horny for him.

“Do it again,” you eventually murmur, touching both your palms to his back this time just to feel it. You want to feel him shoot, you want to feel his muscles move with it. You want to touch how mechanically he’s able to aim, you want to know if he’s loose or tense when he fires, you just want to… feel it.

Din grabs the gun and as he extends his arms out, you slide your hands up his back to rest under his shoulders. He’s so broad, he feels so warm and strong, and his trigger releases are so steady that nothing above his wrists move.

Shit, before he’s even finished setting the blaster back down again, you’re already scooting up behind him as close as possible and carefully slithering your arms around his waist, hugging your body tight to his back. Din stays completely still while your mouth presses against the fabric of his cape and your hands begin to slowly slide down his stomach.

He doesn’t say a damn thing, which makes it even hotter for some reason. There’s no warning he gives you, no low growl of your name or sweet girl being dragged through the modulator. He stays completely silent and holds there while blasters continue to fire from stalls to your left, and it gives you the thrill of your lifetime. Big strong man holding perfectly still for you to touch in the middle of a crowded room.

Your hand slips under his waistband and sink down low until you can trail your fingertips along his cock, hidden from sight beneath the edge of the clay shelf. The small sound you make at feeling it already firm and at attention for you gets lost in the noise of the shooting range, but you wrap your palm around it and give it a good, slow pull upwards, feeling Din’s back expand with a breath from the sensation.

“Do it again,” you whisper into his shoulder blade, slowly playing with his cock in his pants with one hand while keeping the other wrapped tight around his abdomen.

Din immediately snatches the blaster off the platform and fires it the very moment he takes aim, and you can feel his cock pulse in your palm as he lets off the shots. Dead center, as always, but he clunks the metal back down with a bit more force this time and then lingers his fingertips at the sloped edge of it for a second, as if he’s considering whether or not he should hold onto it.

You’re already wet between your legs, but it gets worse the longer he allows you to keep doing this. His skin is furnace-hot and he throbs for you, and you trail your thumb up to check—oh, Maker, he’s leaking for you, too. You drag the pad of your thumb over the tip and gently rub the wetness along the curve of his head, before easing back down to give the shaft another slow pull.

A quiet puff of air comes through the vocal filter, but that’s all you audibly get out of him. Still, it’s more than enough to fill you with a wicked heat and a desperate desire for more. So you bite your lip and glance around just to double-check that nobody else has wandered over behind you and the kid is still tucked away in his crib, probably passed out in the secluded darkness at this point. And then you barely take a split-second to consider it before your knees are bending and you’re slowly sinking down the length of his body.

Din is a fucking statue. He doesn’t do anything to allow your wiggling underneath the raised platform anymore than he widens his stance to prevent it. Once you’re on your knees in front of him in the dim isolation of your hiding spot though, he takes a single step forward and pins his waist to the hardened clay above your head, and a thrill skitters through you at being completely walled in on all four sides.

You reach up to hook your fingertips in his hem of his trousers and begin pulling them down, so tight and achy between your legs that you want to shove your hand down between them already. You don’t though, not yet, because you need two hands to be extra careful in getting his cock out. You don’t even want the fabric of his pants to touch it, you want your mouth to be the only sensation he knows here.

At the very last second, you decide to pull the waistband down far enough to let his balls rest outside the confining clothing, getting increasingly hotter at the thought that this isn’t going to be sneaky and dirty, even if you’re in public. Din’s wide stance and the floor-length cape hide you perfectly from any prying eyes behind his back, so it’s going to be soft and it’s going to be slow and he’s going to be comfortable while you go down on him.

Your mouth is already watering, so you bend down just slightly and lift your chin to gently drag your tongue along the smooth skin of his balls before anything else. Honestly—you don’t think he’s expecting you to go there first, because his whole body suddenly jerks at the velvet soft sensation between his legs and you let out a low hum in response. He can’t reach you down here unless he tries to, so you scoot your knees up a little bit and just decide to go for it. This way he won’t be able to get it confused, he won’t pull you out from under here halfway through when you suck on his balls before anything else. This is what you want from him, what’s right here in your mouth.

You switch to the other one and Din twitches with a filtered breath, the skin already tightening up and responding gorgeously under your tongue. His hand hovers somewhere near the raised platform above your head, fingers curling in his leather gloves and caught right between stopping you and letting you continue. While he allows it, you ease your way up and make it just tantalizing enough to make him ache without providing any real stimulation, slowly trailing your tongue up the length of his cock and pressing plush lips to the flared head.

Din exhales a shakily while you take your time, tasting the precum as his body produces it, just kissing and licking and purposefully refusing to touch him with anything besides your mouth. Without being able to see the rest of him from this angle, you're left to your own devices—you’re so gentle and soft about the pleasure that you start to separate the man from the throbbing erection you’re currently playing with. You begin to enjoy yourself without thinking too much about the struggle he must be withstanding right now, you moan softly against his heated skin even though you know you’re being a tease at the worst possible moment, but no matter how you decide to take your time with it, Din continues to allow it. He endures. Silent, perfectly still, until you eventually decide to wrap your lips around the head of his cock and flutter your tongue up underneath it.

But then he jumps and your eyes open when a deep, unkind voice from the stall to your left calls out, “Hey, Mando! Gonna fuckin’ shoot or just stand there, huh?”

You can hear his immediate frustration in the blaster scraping against the shelf over your head, and you moan softly around his cock the second you feel him tense and start firing. The smooth skin pulses on your tongue and you slide your fingers around the backs of his knees, opening your throat and slowly taking him deeper.

And, for a man that has repeatedly fired six perfect shots every single time he picks up his gun, he falters after just three this time.

The heat of your mouth must be too overwhelming. Too fucking good, too detrimental to his focus and composure to even perform the most basic tasks he typically excels at. Like a seasoned mathematician that suddenly struggles to count to ten, a renowned author that can’t recite their ABC’s—Mando can’t even fire a weapon right now and it’s all because of you.

He has to keep trying though, he has to make an actual effort now that you both know someone nearby is paying at least some sort of attention to his performance. The sound of more plasma arcing through the air over your head slowly disappears into the background in a way that it never could while you were the one firing—you’re completely hidden and safe down here, you can moan low in your throat while keeping your hands around his knees and begin to bob your head without another thought or worry whatsoever. Handling it is all on him. He just needs to stay quiet, be still, and shoot his gun. It should be the simplest thing in the galaxy for him, right?

Wrong. So wrong. You hear the way the bolts are pinging off the sides of the target now, you listen to him grunt and let off a few more shots that also sound like they miss. Your soft palate lifts and you’re practically drenching yourself at how wide he stretches your throat while you take him down as far as you can, and there’s a moment where you’re holding there and you think about doing something about the dull ache throbbing between your legs. But once you pull off him for air and automatically touch your drooling tongue to your palm, you decide this is what you want more.

Your slick hand wraps around his cock and starts to slowly jerk him off while your mouth moves down to attach to his balls once more, your touch gliding strong and wet along his entire length. Din almost doubles over into the platform, his hips stuttering up for the first time at the hard stimulation you’re finally giving him. His skin swells and tightens in your mouth—you can feel the tension locking his thighs down, you can hear the shots above you start to decrease in frequency, and you know he’s already close.

So you move back up to suck on the head of his cock again and slowly swirl your tongue around it, continuing to use your hand to pull steady and firm on the rest of his shaft, and you just close your eyes and wait for him to give you what you want. His firing soon stops altogether and you squeeze your finger between your thighs and press hard against your clit, just needing to relieve some of the ache. You keep doing that, you keep drawing circles with your tongue while slowly jerking the rest of him off into your mouth, and at some point, it all just becomes too much for him.

“Shit,” Din gasps, along with the sudden sound of metal skittering against the clay above you, and your eyes pop open in surprise. “Ah, sh—shhhhh—”

Maker, did he just drop his fucking gun?

You start to pull back, but then suddenly a trembling hand shoots down and clutches tight under your throat, hooking hard behind your jaw to make sure you stay right there.

His cock starts throbbing and he shudders, slamming his other palm on the shelf and cumming hard in your mouth. You’re already swallowing before he even gives you anything but Maker, you’re fucking desperate for it that your hand moves to curl your fingers against the exposed skin at his hips as if that’ll somehow help you get it sooner. The first taste of him comes as soon as you dig in and drag your nails down his flesh, and Din is helpless to do anything else besides clutch your jaw tight and gasp raggedly while emptying himself down your throat.

He shakes and shudders and you don’t spill a single drop, clutching his hips and pulling him close to keep him in your mouth, and as he slowly comes down from that plateau, you lick every inch of him clean. His fingers gradually lose their rigidity around your jaw and eventually, his fingers drop down to press gently against your throat while his hips pull back.

He slips from your mouth and you wipe the wetness from your chin, staring up at his cock wistfully and almost wanting to keep going. Is that fucked up, you wonder? What would he think?

He hasn’t moved yet, why isn’t he moving? Your job is clearly finished here, no matter what kind of way you may feel about that. The coast must not be clear, you have to assume. Perhaps someone is wandering around behind him, maybe he’s still being cautious about the nosy person next door—all you know is that you can tell he wants to move but he isn’t, which likely means he can’t. You know his cock must be so unbelievably sensitive right now, but he’s not easing his body back far enough away from the shelf to tuck it into his pants. He’s keeping it right in front of your face and expecting you to stay there until he deems it appropriate for you to get up.

The longer you wait for him to step back and let you out from under here, the more your need sparks and grows. What would he think? That you’re so desperate for his cock that you still want it in your mouth even when it’s soft and spent? Maker, he’d be fucking right on the money.

At some point, you can’t stop yourself. You lean back up to slowly take his soft cock back in your mouth, and Din nearly spasms while you slip your hand under your waistband and widen your knees.

You don’t do anything spectacular to it—you’re not that cruel—but you do hold him on the heat of your tongue and keep him there, fluttering your eyes closed as your finger finally touches your clit. Air puffs shakily through your nostrils and you think Din is actually shaking harder than you are, his body fighting oversensitivity while yours starts the race towards bliss. He doesn’t stop you but it also feels like he’s purposefully trying not to, like everything in him is rebelling against the wet heat of your mouth but knowing you’re only doing this because you’re so painfully turned on. You’re doing this because you need it, in spite of the electric shocks of wicked sensation it seems to be inspiring in him.

Your finger speeds up and you start gently sucking on the warm, giving flesh, and his hand trembles as it grabs at your hair. Fuck, you don’t care if he thinks you’re desperate—you want him to recognize it, you want him to know exactly how much you love his cock—

That thought sends a dark thrill down your spine and pleasure burns bright and needy where you’re still rubbing your clit, dropping your hips and rolling them forwards against your hand. And oh, your only lament is that you wish he was the one doing this. You wish Din was building your pleasure instead of letting you use his body in search of your own, you wish it was his hand working between your legs and about to shove you over that ledge, but then again. Something about this whole fucking scene is just so… undignified. Debased. And you’re getting off on it, quicker than you ever thought possible.

When you cum, you’re good and you don’t make a single sound when you cum. You squeeze your eyes shut and your entire body jolts with every single shattering wave of ecstasy, and Din tugs a handful of your hair and slowly rocks his hips once, twice, fucking your mouth while you endure wildfire burning through your veins. By the time you finish convulsing on the fucking floor of a Tatooinian gun range, you know you can go for another and probably get it equally as quick as that one, but Din is already pulling his cock out of your mouth and shoving it back into his pants. You’re like jelly as your elbow is immediately caught in his arm and you’re hauled up from your hiding spot, dazed and disoriented.

The chrome visor stares you down and you want to shrink in on yourself, thinking he’s going to take your happy ass back to the Crest. You should be in trouble, you know you should be in trouble. Leaving the recesses of your dark cubby and coming face to face with your surroundings brings a brand new clarity to light—you totally should not have done any of that. He was trying to teach you, for Maker’s sake. He was taking the time to show you the valuable knowledge he’s gained regarding weaponry and self-defense. Fuck, you even told him on Naboo that you wanted to shoot a gun, and he brought you here to do just that.

Except then he just spins you around and picks up the blaster from the adobe ledge in front of you, placing it firmly in your hands.

“Okay,” he pants quietly next to your ear, breathing hard and shallow through the helmet. “Now you should be able to focus, right?”

Fuck… Fuck, is he serious? You can barely hold the damn thing, you’re shaking so hard. How does this work again? What does this do?

“Wh-What?” You croak—fuck, your voice is gone. “I… I can’t—”

“Try,” he encourages, helping your comparatively tiny hands flip off the safety but other than that, stepping back and leaving you to it. Completely and hopelessly lost, you weakly twist around to watch him stand next to the kid’s closed metallic shield. “Hit the target,” Din reiterates with a nod, trying to catch his breath. “You can do it.”

You look back out with unfocused eyes to see it still all the way on the far end of its track, and there’s just absolutely no fucking way. “I… can’t.”

“Hit the target and we can go home,” he tells you, and while you don’t exactly know what home is anymore, something tells you it’s somewhere in hyperspace. A resting baby, a metal floor, a pitch black hull, and your cheek pressed against a warm chest.

It sounds… wonderful.

Inspiring a newfound kind of desire in you, you lift your arms as best you can and work so, so hard to keep them steady. The target is in your sights and you do your absolute best—fuck, you really do, but you pull the trigger and the shot sadly bounces off the edge.

You drop your hands, already defeated and drained. “I can’t.”

“Hit the target and I’ll buy you a blaster,” he ups the ante, and you instantly lift your dead arms again. Fuck, come on, come on, you can do this.

You shoot. Nope. So you shoot again. And then you shoot again, and again, minutely adjusting your wrists purely based on where the bright red plasma is landing and ignoring the scope entirely.

“A nice one,” he continues over the pew pew pew of you just continuing to fucking miss, fucking miserably, over and over again. “Expensive. Hand-crafted, one of a kind…”

Miss, miss, miss, and—no. Just, no. There’s only so much glaring failure you can take before you snap. You finally stop shooting and growl in frustration, going to slam the metal down on its resting place. “Mando, I ca—”

“Hit the target and I’ll marry you,” he says quietly, and you freeze just before impact.

… What? N… No…

Miraculously, you somehow manage to calmly switch the safety on and set the blaster down before turning back to see the helmet staring at you, unmoving.

You… you know it must just be a joke, right? Just a stupid extension to the one he made earlier, it must be. You blink dumbly at him and flick your gaze between the visor and two large black eyes staring at you from the crib, wondering if you glitched or if you’re just hallucinating.

“Uh…” you hear yourself say, even though you’ve got absolutely nothing, but Din doesn’t offer anything else to fill in the gaps of your startled misunderstanding. If you didn’t have such a wild fucking reaction to the words, you'd probably wonder if he actually said them or not—that’s how much he gives away. Silent, so unbelievably silent when you’re begging him to give you at least something. Is he messing with you again? Is he just that confident that you’re going to fail?

It takes forever for you to turn back around and face the target, but you eventually do when he refuses to elaborate. Your heart slams in your chest and you wonder what you’re doing even attempting this.

The moment you lift your trembling arms is the moment you know your heart is pounding too fast—your finger twitches with the wild rush of blood flow and you end up pulling the trigger way before you’re ready. You fire before you’ve checked your sights, you fire before you’ve taken any sort of aim whatsoever, you fire spontaneously enough to surprise even yourself and it—

—it hits dead center.

Your stomach drops and a jolt of some rabid feeling punches through you, you have no idea what it is. You whip around so fast that you get dizzy, seeing him standing there, completely still.

“That was just beginner’s luck,” you quickly reassure him, suddenly feeling faint. Holy shit, holy shit, what the fuck just happened? “Listen—hey, no, listen, I can’t get it again,” you explain shrilly to the utterly dead silence from him. “Look, watch this, double or nothing.”

You spin back around, well aware that absolutely nothing about what you just said or what just happened made any fucking sense at all. Beginner’s luck when you’ve been consistently awful at this, telling him repeatedly to listen when you’re very, very fucking aware he hasn’t said anything, double or nothing on a literal proposal as if double marriage is something that actually exists?

No. Shut up. Don’t even think that word, don’t think about fucking anything. Fire, fire without thinking, just lift the gun and pull the trigger—

You do, and oh. Oh, no.

“Uh?!” Your voice comes out on a squeak, now in a complete fucking panic. What the fuck? No fucking way. Perfect, perfect, the odds are fucking astronomical—another deadly accurate shot. “Ah, um, okay, scratch everything I said—th-third time’s a charm?”

Wide-eyed and having absolutely no clue what you’re doing at this point, you fail to see Din slowly turn his helmet down and to the right as he stands behind you. You go to lift your arms and pull the trigger, but then he suddenly reaches out lightning-quick and bumps your elbow upwards at the very last second.

The abrupt push causes your shot to be angled off course spectacularly and you can’t do anything but look up and gasp in horror, worried it’s going to ricochet off the ceiling and land somewhere this building isn’t architecturally designed to absorb. There’s just enough time to wildly wonder why the fuck he did that—

—but then, like pure magic before your eyes… the beam of plasma adjusts itself in midair.

It fucking bends. Across the length of your entire firing lane, it curves in a downward trajectory and hits the target with absolutely impossible physics.

Your jaw fucking drops and you whip your body around in dumb shock to see Din staring hard at the closed shield next to him.

… that’s not closed.

The baby tilts his head at you and coos happily, one ear tipping up while the other tips down, and you’re completely blown away. Not only at the entirely unexpected demon-power display, but what specifically he was hoping to get out of it. You’re still stuck, blinking down at the adorable little goof with abilities you’ll never understand.

Only, a hand suddenly grabs yours and drags you back to yourself.

“We need to leave,” Din says quietly, switching the lid shut on the hovering crib and pushing it towards the booth’s exit while tugging you along behind him. “I don’t know how many people saw that, we need to leave.”

Sure enough, voices in the next partition over start picking up, likely the only ones in here who had a good enough angle to watch the physically unthinkable shot somehow meet its target, and your adrenaline quickly begins pumping while you keep your head down and power-walk your ass to the door. You don’t know the kind of consequences that could potentially arise from others witnessing the kid’s literal sorcery, but you know you’d rather not take the chance. The voices start growing louder as you three make your quick escape, beginning to ask others around them if they just saw that, but you’re already out of the rectangular adobe structure and long gone by the time anybody steps out of their panels to hear the uproarious accusations of cheating beginning to fly.

***

Stay tuned for the next part!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #star wars #fanfic #reader insert #no-droids

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thewriterowl · 2 years

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Can you write something for new hope luke and dark din

Luke hearing from Biggs that there was a very intimidating Mandalorian on Tatooine; "hear he is a bounty hunter. But he just seems different you know? I'm leaving today so you don't have any one to look after you...so stay away ok?"

Luke tries to, he doesn't want to break a promise to his only friend or worry anyone but he is so curious. So he goes into town to take a little peek at this terrifying man and is awe struck....it's hard to miss the man who stalked the streets so confidently and had such an air of danger to him. Everyone in the streets avoided him, kept their heads down, and made sure not to catch his ire. By the time Luke makes his way into the town, there was already terrifying stories about him and that he was hired by the Hutt's but even they seemed unsettled with him. Something about him was...off. Scary.

Luke was still very curious but kept his distance.

Sadly, he decided to visit Motto's garage to see if there were some power converters he could trade so he could try and get his own speeder (which was about five generations old) and get it at a better speed. Sadly, she doe not; all her focus is on the highest paying customer she's had in ages. He is bummed but happy for her to have such a high paying client.

As he is leaving he runs chest first into an armored man. Arms wrap around him, keeping him steady, and he gasps to see the feared Mandalorian who looks at him and then breathes out, "mesh'la."

Luke squeaks out an apology, thinking this is an insult, and made a move to leave but was gripped on tight.

"Where are you going, sweetheart?"

"U-Uhm. Home, sir."

"Hmm...not right now you're not."

And then Luke has to hang out with the guy for a few hours. Luke is surprised to find he isn't too bad, a bit intimidating, sure but was funny with a dry wit and was weirdly kind to Luke, buying him power converters, and the most expensive treats on Tatooine, giving him credits to give to his family (and no matter how hard Luke refused, the man will not let him say no)

Luke is let go but with a dark promise, "I'll see you later, cyar'ika."

Just a day later the man arrives and tells Owen he is there to pick up his bride. That throws the family off and Din says he has provided a dowry and will provide more given his status but he will be marrying Luke and taking him with him now. And there is a clear threat there and Luke knows if he does not do as told, his family could be in danger--but by agreeing means they would be protected...there isn't much choice and so he agrees.

Luke is swept away from Tatooine and brought to Mandalore where he is informed that the man who has demanded his hand is actually the king.

Luke is tracked constantly. he cannot dress in something simple or cheap, he is expected to be at his king's side and support him while also being pampered senseless, he is to raise their children, and just...it is a lot of traditions he is told he must take but his family will be forever taken care of because fo him and they may even come and liv in the growing city if they so wish.

Poor Luke is just made to be a beautiful prop that is adored by his husband and people but has almost no freedom or control in his life.

At least when things get rough with the rebellion, Luke just has to ask and Din is providing assistances...which helps them take down the Galactic Empire...but causes the rise of the Mandalorian Empire in its place.

#owl inbox #dinluke #tw: darkfic #dark din djarin

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hoodedguitarist · 2 years

Text

Homecoming

Notes: I know this has been a long time coming and I know I got real quiet there for a while. Life really knocked me down yall… It was bad. But, I’m much better. The holidays were good, I’ve been doing some self care stuff, slowly mending myself back together. I hope this ends up being as good as I’m picturing it in my head. Anyways, here’s the first bit of it.

I update sporadically because I’m trash but just stick with me.

Pairing: Cobb Vanth x Reader

Summary: You had one chance to leave Mos Pelgo and fight for the Rebellion, and you took it. It had been years since you’d seen or had any contact with Cobb Vanth, and you were convinced he’d forgotten about you and moved on. But in a strange twist of fate, you found yourself returning to your small hometown.

Warnings: Eh, let’s go ahead and mark this one 18+ for future reasons. Old sparks growing into flames and all that.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 (End)

–

When you have nowhere else to go, you go home.

–

“You’re going to Tatooine?”

“Yes.”

“Would you take on a passenger?”

“No.”

“What if I paid you?”

He stopped in his tracks. You knew that would get his attention. The Mandalorian slowly turned around and you held up a pouch. It was everything you had.

Life after the civil war did not bring you what you thought it would. Joining the Rebellion was what you’d wanted, and you took the opportunity, but when the Empire was finally destroyed and became the New Republic…hard times had followed. You were able to find work even though you hated it, but you needed the money to get a transport or to pay a pilot to take you home- take you back to somewhere familiar.

And now, that was finally a possibility. You weren’t going to take no for an answer.

“Come on,” you begged. “You’re headed there. I won’t be a bother. Just take me to Mos Eisley and I can make my own way from there. Please?”

He stared at you for a long while. The precious little creature at his side cooed and turned his large eyes up to his armored companion.

There was a heavy sigh.

“Fine.”

You grinned and tossed him the pouch of credits. He caught it and nodded towards his ship.

–

Your heart pounded in excitement and eagerness as the Razor Crest landed. It had been a long time since you’d seen Tatooine, but you were glad to be back on your home planet. Sure it was rough around the edges, always had been, but it was familiar. You were used to it and knew how to handle it.

You slung your pack around your back. You didn’t have much, but that was alright. You had every intention of starting over in your hometown.

“Thanks for the ride, Mando. Seriously,” you told him as the platform lowered.

“Thanks for being an easy passenger.”

“You had it worse in the past?” You raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged.

“You could say that.”

The both of you walked down the platform and out into the open air. A short woman with curly brown hair was there to greet you both. She seemed pretty surprised at you.

“Who’s this one?”

“Just a passenger,” you answered with a smile. You had already told Mando your name, but you went on and introduced yourself to the woman and learned her name was Peli.

“What, so you’re a transport service now?” Peli looked over at the Mandalorian, who shook his head.

“No,” he clipped.

“He’s not,” you interjected. “I was just in the right place at the right time with the right amount of money. That’s all.”

“Well, where are you heading?” Peli had aimed that question at Mando mainly, but the both of you answered.

“Mos Pelgo.”

There was a heavy pause. You and the Mandalorian exchanged looks.

“Mos Pelgo was my hometown,” you clarified, but gave him a puzzled look. “Why are you heading there?”

“I was told I could find another Mandalorian in Mos Pelgo. If I can speak with them I may be able to track a path through the coverts and get the child back to its own kind.”

You glanced down at the little green creature that was now in Peli’s arms.

“Well both of you need to slow down,” she suddenly spoke up. “You must have been gone a long time, honey. Mos Pelgo was wiped out by bandits, it’s not on any of the maps any more. Once the Empire fell it was a free for all. I didn’t dare leave the city walls–still don’t.”

“What…” You breathed, your eyes widening and your blood turning to ice. There was a horrible twist in your stomach and anxiety took hold of you. “But…how? I-I…I don’t understand I mean-”

“Ok, take a breath, honey. You’re going pale.” Peli stepped over to you and put a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to take in but Mos Pelgo was small. It was bound to be taken over by someone eventually.”

“But it can’t just be gone…can it? And the people…” You looked over at the Mandalorian for some kind of reassurance. You weren’t sure why you did, but he had to have thought the same. He had been watching your reaction and felt a pang of sympathy for you.

“We can go take a look.”

“They’ll see you coming a mile off,” Peli reminded.

“Do you still have that speeder bike?” Mando asked her. She nodded.

“Sure do. It’s a little rusty, but I got it.”

His dark visor drifted back over to you. “Do you remember how to get there? You can lead me there and we’ll see what the situation is. Ride with me.”

The need burned within you. You had to see it for yourself and know if the town was truly gone…. But more importantly, there was a person that you were hoping to see with every fiber of your being. If anyone could survive, it would be him.

You had a look of determination come over you and you nodded. “I will. And thank you, Mando.”

Well it aint much but it’s a start. If you want to be added to the tag list (or taken off) let me know!

Tagslist: @hayley-the-comet @pinkiemme @swordandstar @chadillacboseman

#cobb vanth x female reader #cobb vanth x you #cobb vanth x reader #homecoming #Dora writes fanfic #reader insert #eventual smut #pining #feels #star wars #star wars fanfiction #cobb vanth fangirls #cobb vanth fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian #cobb vanth

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barnes-dameron · 3 years

Text

Take It Off

*not my gif

The Mandalorian x reader

Summary: A run in with the Marshal of Mos Peligo makes Mando reevaluate how he is handling his feelings for you.

Warnings: smut

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Some Chapter 9 spoilers, read at your own risk. I was so upset that I couldn’t find the perfect gif from the episode, but this one will have to do.

***

To say the Mandalorian was angry was an understatement. He should’ve been happy if anything. He got the armor of his people back from a man who abused it, and survived from being consumed by a krayt dragon. But hearing you laugh at the Marshal’s comment before leaving for the ship caused anger to flood through Din’s veins. The way you tucked your hair behind your ear before climbing onto the speeder behind him caused his hand to twitch right above his blaster.

It drove him crazy how Cobb was flirting with you throughout the mission, and it drove him crazier how responsive you were to the comments. Yes, he’s been keeping his feelings for you under wraps. He had to. It’s been bad enough that he drags you into danger, but having a relationship with you might even be more dangerous. For you or for him, he couldn’t decide. Din hid his feelings fairly well, but it’s easy to do that when it’s just you two and the child on the ship. But he never anticipated how difficult it would be in public, especially with another man who seems to be interested in you.

Din refused to imagine you with someone other than him. He’s gotten so used to you around him, that the thought of you with another man was foreign and unwelcome to him. At times he hated the helmet that he swore to wear, but others he was grateful for it. It hid his jealousy which was painted all over his face. Every time Cobb stared at you, Din clenched his jaw. Every time Cobb flirted with you, Din gritted his teeth. Every time Cobb touched you, Din fisted his hand. The last one was harder to hide, but he did it anyways. A warning for Cobb if anything.

Din gripped the speeder’s handles tighter as he rode the bike through the Tatooine desert. He was hyper aware of the way you held on to him, your arms wrapped around and squeezing him as if your life depended on it. Your body pressed against his. Din wished the armor wasn’t there so he could feel your body and warmth. He needed to get back to the ship and put as much distance between you and Cobb. He needed you alone.

The need was so deep that he dismissed Peli when arriving back, leaving you to apologize for him. He headed straight to the cock pit and set out once he was sure you and the child were secure within the ship. He needed to clear his head, and watching the stars stretch as he set the course into hyperspace gave him that peace of mind. Tatooine and Cobb were behind him, and he had you all to himself. Taking a deep breath, Din got up from his seat and headed down to the haul.

The first thing he saw first softened Din’s heart. He was met with your back to him as you were holding the child close to your chest with his head leaning on your shoulder, singing softly as his eyelids grew heavier by the passing second. Your maternal instincts were something that Din grew fond of, and admired about you. He watched as you bend down, placing the child in his cradle and closing the lid to give him some peace and quiet after a long day. At that moment, Din felt stupid. How could he ever be jealous of you and Cobb? You were here with him and the child. It was obvious that you couldn’t leave now.

But that moment quickly vanished when you turned around. Anger and jealousy once again boiled over in Din as his eyes set upon the scarf you were wearing. He’s seen that scarf before, but the last person that wore it was Cobb. Din couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Where did you get that from?” Din asked, his voice gruff.

He watched you look down and finger the scarf, the look of innocence on your face not doing it for him.

“It was Cobb’s,” you replied, a tinge of confusion in your voice. “He gave it to me to keep the sand out of my face when riding back.”

Of course he would give it you. He knew how to get under Din’s skin.

“Take it off,” Din commanded.

He watched as you tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him. Din’s breathing grew heavier from your incompetency and unwillingness to do what he said.

“Take it off,” he repeated, stepping closer until you were a foot away from him. “Or I will.”

Din saw your eyes grow darker, and smirk spread across your face. His heart beat faster as he took wind of your behavior. You knew what you were doing to him. Din reached down to his vambrace, using the commands to direct the child’s cradle to a separate part of the ship. He didn’t need the womp rat to be around for this.

Din grabbed your biceps, and shoved you against the nearest crate, noting the sigh that escaped your lips. He wanted you, and he knew that you wanted him as well. That was enough for him to go forward with his plans.

Din snatched the scarf that was draped across your neck, and threw it across the haul. Out of sight, out of mind. But as soon as it disappeared from your body, Din’s eyes landed on your chest. Your button up shirt was only closed halfway, revealing your cleavage which only made his cock harden even more. He sucked in a breath, and brought his gloved hands to rip open to the remaining of the shirt, the buttons flying and scattering across the haul.

The Mandalorian admired the way your breasts bounced from the sudden action, and he could tell from your sigh and clenched thighs that you enjoyed it as well. He palmed your breasts, the tits that he’s thought about in the shower, and pinched your nipples, loving the way you threw your head back and closed your eyes in pleasure. The temptation to break his vow and dishonor the Creed has never been stronger than this moment. How he wanted to get his mouth on you, and feel your skin beneath his lips, lick into your mouth, and taste your juices. But he wouldn’t give in. He was angry with you. So why should he give you what you want?

He leaned his head closer to yours, a mere few millimeters between you two. He squeezed your breasts, groaning while doing so. Oh the things you do to him.

“Look at me,” he commanded. He watched as your eyelids flutter open, dark with lust, matching his. “These tits are mine.”

Din’s hands traveled down, pulling at your pants and underwear until they pooled around your ankles. He listened to your rapid breathing, the helmet amplifying the sound making it music to his ears. Din gripped your hips and turned you around, pressing the front of you to the crate as he sunk his hands into your ass, massaging the flesh. He leans his helmet forward, close to your ear.

“This ass is mine,” he growled. He reached his hand down to your core, dipping his fingers into your cunt and relishing in the way your walls gripped them. He pulled them out after a short moment, much to your dismay from the groan you let out. Din brought his hand close to his helmet, examining your wetness drip down his fingers. He couldn’t help but smirk to himself. He used his other hand to pull his aching cock out of the confines of his pants, then using the hand with your wetness to stroke and coat himself with your juices. He suppressed his groan of pleasure, then positioned his cock to your cunt. He pushed in, sheathing himself fully in one quick and fluid motion. Din heard you gasp and moan, and watched your grip on the crate tighten. “And this cunt is mine.”

That was the last thing he said before setting his fast and rough pace. His hips snapped forward against your ass as he impaled you with his cock. He relished in the feel of your velvet walls, squeezing his cock better than he imagined during those lonely nights in his bunk. Your juices coated his cock, making it easier to slide in and out. Din kept an iron grip on your hips, keeping you from moving too much. He knew that it would cause bruises, but that was the plan. If he couldn’t mark you with his teeth, he could have you sport some black and blues. Your chants of his well known nickname only encouraged him further. Well that, and the the rhythmic banging of your knees against the crate’s wood panels. His armor felt tighter than usual as heat built up with him and sweat began to bead on his brow. Your skin started to glow as sweat was beginning to coat it.

Din was getting close, he could feel it, but he stopped his thrusts when he saw your hand disappear from the front of the crate to the front of your body. He reached in front, and grabbed your wrist, slamming it back onto the crate. A whimper ripped through your throat.

“You cum when I tell you to,” Din asserted, before continuing his hard thrusts.

“Mando,” you screamed, satisfaction and pride flooding over Din.

He was the one who was making you wither in pleasure. He was the one who was making you scream. He was the one who was driving his cock into your cunt. Not Cobb, not any other man in the galaxy...him.

He quickened his pace, his orgasm coming fast. Din reached a glove hand in front of you, and started to rub your clit between his thumb and index finger. He grunted when your moan reached his ear, knowing you were feeling just a good as he was.

“You better cum within the next minute,” Din warned, lowering his voice. “Or I’ll have to do something that I don’t want to do.”

To be honest, Din was hoping you would cum because he didn’t have a plan if you didn’t. And thankfully you did. Din let out a strangled groan as your cunt squeezed and soaked his cock within seconds of his request. He couldn’t hold back anymore. Din gritted his teeth and gripped your hip harder as his balls tightened up against him. He painted your walls with his seed. He did it. Din marked you and you were now his.

He didn’t want to pull out, but he also knew you two couldn’t stay here. Din pulled out, turning you around to examine you. He can see through his helmet’s visor that your skin was warm, your breathing was labored, and a slight smile was displayed on your face. Din smirked to himself as he tucked his still semi hard cock back into his pants.

“Get to the fresher,” Din said, nodding over to it. “Don’t bother changing into anything either. I’ll meet you at my bunk after.”

“And what are you going to do until then?” you asked as you bent down to pull up your pants and underwear.

“I have something to take care of,” he replied.

Din made sure you were in the fresher, before moving to pick up Cobb’s scarf that you obviously forgotten all about. He stared at it for a second, before throwing it in the ship’s incinerator. You wouldn’t miss it. You probably wouldn’t even notice it’s gone. He’ll make sure you’ll be more preoccupied to even think about it.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #smut #the mandalorian season two

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parker-razor · 3 years

Text

many a dream about you

afab!reader x mando (no y/n)

5.2k words, 18+, EXPLICIT!!

warnings: SMUT (extended warnings under the cut), mentions of injuries, unprotected sex (use protection!), very little editing

summary: when you and mando are forced to share a bed together, you end up having a dream that reveals more than you had hoped...

author’s notes: ahhhh! this is my first fic!! i’ll be honest, i got so excited i wrote most of this in one sitting. indulge me in some of my favorite smutty tropes about everyone’s favorite space dad!

extended warnings: oral (f receiving), wet dreams, thigh grinding, mentions of rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation... i think that’s it

*****

Stars, you were exhausted.

You had just spent three weeks on the Razor Crest with the only bed available to you being a cheap mattress that might as well have just been a sack stuffed with sand. On top of the little sleep you were running on, you had just finished loading three bounties onto the Crest and into carbonite while Mando patched himself up. Dragging three grown men onto the ship and freezing them took all the strength out of you.

You finally collapsed into the pilot’s seat in the cockpit, catching your breath and giving your muscles a well-deserved break. Your eyes flutter closed as your body decompresses from the hard work and no sleep it’s been put through these past weeks. Mando had hired you just a month ago to look after the ship while he was away on hunts. Not to mention the little green gremlin he had adopted as his own, who kept you company and looked to you to get taken care of. It was much better than the life you had known; growing up on the outskirts of Tatooine was hard enough as is, but when your little shop had been pillaged and ransacked, you had nothing left on the small, desert planet. Mando had shown up just in time, sitting next to you in a dive bar.

*****

You had never seen one of his kind before, and to be honest, you were overwhelmed with the way he carried himself. He was big, towering over everyone he passed on his way to the barstools. You wondered why he even bothered if he couldn’t remove his helmet to drink, but you’d never ask. He sat himself just a few stools from yours, and after stealing a few glances with flushed cheeks, you finally opened your mouth to say something.

“Bounty hunters like you must be pretty busy on a planet like this,” you said, trying to talk over the loud band playing in the corner. “Not too many upstanding people tend to find themselves here.”

Slowly turning his helmet to face you, the Mandalorian said, “What does that say about you?”

Damn, you thought, he was quick to the draw.

“It’s not exactly my choice to live here. I’d give anything to get off this ball of sand.”

He says nothing, just turns his helmet forward again. You figure that’s the end of that, at least you tried. You can now say that you’ve talked to a Mandalorian before.

After a few beats of silence, he finally speaks. “Anything?”

You whip your head towards him, trying to figure out where this was going. Of course you wanted to leave, but you didn’t want to come off too eager in case he wasn’t serious.

“I mean, what do you have in mind?” you ask, trying to act as calm as possibly, but you couldn’t help but get a little excited at the prospect of leaving.

“I have… a son. He’s very small and can’t take care of himself yet. I don’t like taking him hunting, but I can’t leave him on the ship by himself,” he pauses, piecing together his words carefully. “I need someone to look after him.”

“So, I’d be his babysitter?”

“And ship sitter. Just keep it clean, nothing complicated.”

You pretended to ponder his proposition, but you knew you’d say yes almost immediately. There was nothing left for you here; no family, no livelihood, no friends. This was the best deal you had gotten in a long time. Except…

“So, what do I get in return?”

“I’d pay you, as much as I can afford. But you’d have your own bed and food.”

You’re sold.

*****

You’re brought back to the present when you hear Mando’s footsteps ascend the ladder to the cockpit. The child is holding onto him, smiling when he sees your face.

“How bad are you hurt?” you ask cautiously.

“I’ll live. Just a gash.”

“Well, I got the bounties in carbonite. But I gotta say Mando, I don’t know if I can sleep another night in a row on that shitty mattress.” He says nothing, and you haven’t figured out if that’s a good sign or a bad sign.

“Not that I don’t appreciate you making room for me! I’m just saying, I think we both need a proper rest tonight, especially after today,” you backtrack. You hear him sigh, nodding his head in agreement.

“Alright. I passed an inn on the way back here. Let’s see if they have any vacancy, hopefully with a bed better than the one you have.” You blush, embarrassed that you came off as ungrateful.

Mando was a mystery to you. He was quiet, a man of few words. It was especially hard trying to read him without being able to see any facial cues or expressions. Nevertheless, something about him exuded strength. He was much taller than you, but he was also just… big. Especially with all the beskar adding a whole other layer of strength. You couldn’t explain the attraction you felt for him. Something about how he towered over you, his visor boring into your face made you weak in the knees. How could you feel this way for someone who you’d barely talked to, let alone never seen their face?

He made you feel weak, but for some reason you liked that. Growing up on your home planet, you had to learn to fight for yourself. You were strong, with curves and muscles that showed just how tough life had made you. You never let a man make you feel less than or weak, always ready to defend yourself. But you liked that Mando made you feel small. It made no sense, but it also made perfect sense.

Sometimes at night, you’d let your hands wander. One hand wandered up to your face, whether to bite down on a finger or cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet, and the other down the front of your pants. Being around Mando so much made it difficult to wait until after he fell asleep to take care of the burning need you felt for him. You had your fair share of flings with the boys in your village, but none of them made you feel the way Mando did. With the most subtle actions he could make a heat blossom in your stomach and goosebumps spread over your arms. Sometimes the way he’d fly the Crest made you clench your thighs together; he looked so in charge in that pilot’s seat. Rubbing tight circles on your clit, clenching around nothing while angling your hips just right, you would be sent into orbit at the thought of his hands taking care of you instead.

After you and Mando had packed up your essentials, you got Grogu into his pram and headed off to the village nearby. You had no idea what planet you were on, but the flowering trees brought some joy to you. In the past weeks travelling with Mando, you had seen so many new things. You had never once left your home, and things like trees and streams had you in awe. You would never get used to how it made you feel.

The village was small, and it didn’t seem like there was anything else around for miles. You got to the motel, one of the larger buildings in the area. The lobby was small and surprisingly clean, much cleaner than the interior of the Crest. An older woman, the innkeeper you presumed, stood at the desk.

“We’d like two rooms. How much would that be?” Mando asked, not interested in entertaining niceties.

“So sorry sir, we only have one room available. A few of our rooms are under renovation, and there’s only one unoccupied that is fit to house anyone,” the woman said with a sickly sweet smile.

Mando sighed, obviously conflicted with the choice laid in front of him. He turned to you for your input.

“I- I don’t mind sharing a room. We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, I just thought it be nice to escape the ship for the night.” You rushed your words out, feeling shy at the prospect of sharing the room with Mando. He had his own quarters on the ship, and you had yours, if you could even consider them quarters. After a few beats, Mando put some credits on the desk, and took the key the woman was offering.

Pushing down the excitement you felt, you grabbed your things that you had set down and followed Mando to your room. It’s not like you hadn’t been living in close proximity with Mando for the past few weeks anyways.

But this was different.

And you didn’t fully realize why it was so different until you opened the door to your room and saw that there was only one queen sized bed. Your jaw dropped, as you looked to Mando for his reaction. Nothing, as usual. He just walked into the room as if nothing had changed.

How was this gonna go? Were you just supposed to… share? The bed wasn’t puny, plenty of room for the both of you. But this was crossing a line that you didn’t even realize had been established. You didn’t really know much about each other and hadn’t been acquainted for very long. Not to mention the burning need you felt for him growing day by day.

And now you had to share a bed with him. No big deal.

Grogu’s cries for attention brought you out of your reverie of thoughts. You picked him up from his pram and placed him on the bed, allowing him to take in the room. The love and affection for the child had grown immensely since Mando had first introduced the two of you. You were initially shocked at how silently affectionate Mando was with him. You had never expected him to be the paternal type. You had yet to learn how the curious pair had found each other; a small part of you wondered if Mando looked similar to the child under his mask.

Mando had set his things on the chair in the corner and mumbled something about using the refresher. And as quickly as the door shut, you heard the shower turn on and the sound of beskar hitting the floor.

The realization that Mando was maskless, naked, just a few feet away sent a shockwave through your body. Was he tan? Did he have blond or brown hair? Was he truly strong or did the beskar just add extra bulk? You imagined he had scars littering his body, with chest hair dusting his front. The thought of it trailing down beneath his pants sent a shiver down your spine. Stars, your mind was in the gutter.

The sun had set, and Grogu’s eyes started to flutter and shut on one of the pillows on the bed. You picked him up and cradled him, resting your cheek to his. You savored moments like this; the ones that made your heart warm and full of comforting joy. Grogu’s breathing slowed, letting out snores every once in a while. You heard the shower shut off, and carefully placed Grogu into his pram, closing the top for him to sleep in peace.

Mando stepped out of the refresher in a thin pair of sleep trousers, a similar shirt and, of course, his helmet. Your gaze made you realize that he was definitely not wearing underwear, not leaving much to the imagination. You felt your face heat up as you looked anywhere but at him, almost positive that your face has turned as red as the setting sun.

“Your turn,” Mando said as he sauntered to the chair in the corner. He placed his things on the ground, sat in the chair, and crossed his arms as if to get comfortable.

“You’re not sleeping over there, are you?” you asked.

“I… just assumed… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Your blush was back with a vengeance.

“I don’t mind. We got this room to relax, and you sure as hell don’t seem at ease with the way you’re sitting.” He said nothing for a few moments before sighing and standing to walk over towards the bed.

Oh Maker, this is actually happening, you thought. What act was more intimate than sharing a bed with someone? Well, there was the obvious one, but…

You scurried to the washroom, desperate to cool yourself down and collect your thoughts. This didn’t have to be a big deal, and if you kept acting all standoffish like you had been, you’d chase Mando away with the bizarre energy you were emitting.

You splashed cold water on your face to calm your blush, brushed your teeth with vigor, and changed into your pajamas. Granted, they were much scantier than the ideal, but you hadn’t expected to be sharing a bed, let alone a room, with the Mandalorian.

Stepping out of the refresher, you see Mando lying in bed with the lamplight on. Maker, you wanted to nothing but climb in with him and lay on his chest…

His chest. This was the first time you’d seen him without all that bulky armor. Through his thin clothing you could tell he was strong, with broad shoulders and contoured muscle. His helmet turned towards you, and what you didn’t know was that he was eyeing you in your not-so-modest sleep clothes as well.

What you didn’t know was how Mando gazed at you when you held the child, cooing at him as he gently tugged on your hair or stroked your cheek. His helmet protected him from you finding out how often he stared at you in adoration. Your curves, your smile, your silent strength. Stars, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But what you saw when he looked at you was a silent T-visor staring at you with no emotion.

After a beat, your gaze met the floor as you walked to the other side of the bed, closest to the window. You crawled under the covers, waiting for some quick comment or a reaction from the man next to you. Finally, he spoke.

“Are you sure you don’t want me in the chair?” he asked.

“Stars, Mando, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d want to be as far away from me as possible,” you responded, embarrassed.

“That’s- no, not at all. I, uh, just wanted you to feel comfortable,” he stumbled. You had never seen him so lost for words, so taken back.

“I promise, Mando, if anything I feel more comfortable with you next to me.” Oh Maker, why did you just say that? That was the most upfront you’d been with him. Just as you were about to take back your words…

“I feel the same,” he responded quietly. Stars, if your heart didn’t explode at his words.

It was quiet for a few moments, until you said, “Well… goodnight Mando.”

“Goodnight.” He turned off the lamplight and shuffled deeper under the blankets. You were unsure if you should stay as close to the edge as possible or be truly comfortable and let yourself get a little closer to Mando. Before you could make up your mind, exhaustion overtook you and you drifted to sleep.

*****

Mando stirred in your sleep, disturbed by something he hadn’t recognized yet. As he continued to drift in and out of sleep, he heard something that he wasn’t sure was a part of a dream or reality.

Quiet mumblings came from your side of the bed, mixed with indistinguishable groans. His instincts kicked in, becoming fully awake to survey the room for any threats. It took him a moment to realize that as you slept, you had moved closer to Mando – much closer.

Your leg was draped over his torso, with your chest pressed to his side and your arm resting on his chest. But what he noticed most was the way your hips rolled, your core grinding against the side of his thigh. Looking at your face, he could tell you were asleep. Your breaths grew heavier, quiet groans turning into moans. Mando felt his pants grow tighter, not know whether or not to wake you from your obvious wet dream.

Mando froze when he heard you say his name while your hips sped up. “M-Mando, don’t stop… Please…” Fuck, you were dreaming about him. He wanted nothing more than to rub the growing problem in his pants, but he knew that crossed a line.

As your breath started to hitch, he could tell you were getting close. Just as you were about to cum, you jolted awake, breathing heavily while taking in what was going on.

You looked down at the scene you had caused, rendered speechless. Flooded with humiliation, you jumped out of bed and ran to the refresher as Mando shouted your name. You slammed the refresher door and locked it, tears springing to your eyes. Fuck fuck fuck, this was bad. Did you just ruin everything? Mando must hate you now.

“Please open the door, I’m not mad. Let’s just talk,” Mando said through the door, not wanting to reveal how he felt behind a slab of wood. You said nothing, feeling utterly mortified. There’s no way you could look him in the eye (well, helmet) after getting yourself off on his thigh in your sleep. Fuck.

After twenty minutes of Mando trying to convince you that he wasn’t upset and he just wanted to talk, he gave up. Sighing, he pushed himself off the floor and went back to sit on the bed. Though the tension in his pants had gone down, he couldn’t stop thinking about the sounds you made. He looked down to see that you had left a wet spot on his leg, causing him to groan. He had to stop himself from thinking that way, at least for right now while you were upset.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, you were in shock. You tried your best to recount what had happened, but it didn’t help that you were asleep for most of it. The dream you were having a blur; Mando on top of you, and the intense feeling of being filled to the brim. Then, you remember waking up to Mando staring down at you, putting two and two together, and that was that.

You realized that Mando was awake before you were, which means he was watching you… do that to him. He didn’t try to wake you up or stop you. He was watching you get off. That had to mean… he liked it. He liked seeing you like that. Right?

You slowly stood up from the bathroom floor, wiping the tears you didn’t notice had fallen down your cheeks. Taking a few deep breaths, you calmed your bedhead and opened the washroom door, rounding the corner to face Mando sitting on the bed.

He looked up from the spot on the floor he was staring at as he sat deep in thought.

“Are- are you okay?” he asked, uncertain of what he should say.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I was asleep and I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable,” you admit, eyes glued to the floor. A few moments of deafening silence pass, with you shuffling in the spot where you stood and Mando’s helmet fixed towards you.

“What did you dream about?” Mando asked quietly. The Mandalorian was normally so stoic and strong in his conviction that to hear his voice quiver in nervousness made your gaze shoot up to his.

“It’s… embarrassing. I don’t want you to think less of me.” Your face turned beet red, a trait of yours you didn’t realize you possessed until you met Mando. He was the first person to make you feel shy and flustered.

“I won’t, I promise. I just want to know… I need to know.”

“It was… about me. And you.” Mando rose to walk over to where you were standing, near the foot of the bed.

“What about us, exactly? You can tell me. Tell me everything.” You hesitated to meet his gaze, eyes wide and nervous.

“You were… on me. In me. All over me.” You felt yourself getting breathless as Mando got closer to you, as you retold your dream without getting too graphic yet still admitting that you had dreamt of him taking you.

“And was I gentle, or was I rough?” Mando’s voice grew husky, just as breathless as you. Maker, his voice made you weak at the knees.

“Gentle, at first. But the longer you went you got rougher. Much rougher.” Your voice dropped into a whisper as Mando found himself right in front of you, almost chest to chest. Your eyes dropped to admire his chest, what it’d look like without his shirt. You wanted to trace every scar that marked his skin, kiss him, bite him.

He grabbed your chin with his thumb and forefinger, drawing your gaze from his chest to his helmet.

“And which did you like better? Tell me,” he whispered through the modulator, but there was no filtering out how deep and raspy his voice had gotten, like you had never heard before.

“I… I was just happy you were touching me,” you whispered, in shock that this wasn’t just another dream. His hand drifted from your chin to your neck, caressing every inch of you. You closed your eyes, unable to believe that he was touching you without his gloves on.

Suddenly, both hands came to your waist and pulled you into his chest, your hands finding their place on his chest. You whimpered, never feeling so small, not knowing why you liked it so much.

“Do you want me to touch you, sweet one? Like I did in your dream?” he rasped.

“Please… please touch me, Mando.” He groaned at that, manhandling you so your back turned to the bed and quickly thrown onto the bed.

“I like hearing you beg, love. Beg some more for me.” You whimpered, flushed and embarrassed but in the best way. Mando yanked at your legs so they were hanging off the bed with him standing between your knees. His hands drifted from your stomach up to your breasts, squeezing them while his thumbs rubbed your hardened nipples through your shirt.

Unable to take it any longer, you sat up and yanked your shirt over your head as Mando did the same. His expanse of muscle was all you could think about, the thatches of chest hair made you want to run your hands all over him.

He dropped to his knees in front of you, playing with the waistband of your sleep shorts.

“Tell me, did I eat this sweet pussy of yours in your dream?” You moaned, unable to remember but wanting his mouth on you all the same.

“I want you to, but your helmet…” Mando grabbed the blanket that was at the end of the bed, throwing it so one end covered your stomach and the other fell near the middle of his back. Awkwardly, you saw him maneuver under the blanket to take his helmet off, and then your shorts.

Before you could say so much as a “please,” Mando’s mouth enveloped your cunt with his hot mouth. Your gasp was loud and ragged, not expecting him to feel this good. You felt him moan into you, licking from your hole up to the tip of your clit.

“Am I the one who made you this wet, my sweet one? You’re dripping onto the bed for me,” you heard him rasp under the blankets.

“Please, Mando, you feel so f-fucking good,” you gasp as he puts his mouth on you again. You reach under the blanket to grab his hair to pull him the exact spots you wanted his mouth to be. Maker, his mouth was immaculate. His tongue messily toyed with your clit, groaning in your cunt when you tugged his hair which sent vibrations everywhere.

When he found that one spot, just to the left of your clit, you started to feel that familiar tension in your stomach, the one you’d get when you’d touch yourself in the silence of night in the Crest. You tilted your hips just right as he sucked your clit into your mouth, letting out an animalistic moan.

As soon as you felt him hum into your cunt again, you were gone. You fell over a cliff higher than ever before as everything went utterly white, white in your vision and white noise in your ears.

Maker, you came so fucking hard. And through the whole thing, Mando licked and sucked at you, slowing down when you eventually came down. You felt like you were floating through the aftermath as Mando kissed the inside of your thighs, and through the reverie you were in you felt the tickle of facial hair on your skin. You smiled to yourself, finally able to know something about the appearance of the man you adored so.

Mando quickly put his helmet back on under the blanket before pulling himself over you, stroking your face with the back of his hand.

“Do you want more? Or do you want me to stop?” he asked. As spent as you felt, at the sound of his voice your body began rearing up for more.

“More. I need your cock, Mando, so badly,” you whimpered, feeling a brand new wave of wetness flood at the apex of your legs.

You picked your head up, finally wrenching your eyes open as you felt Mando start to take his pants off. You were very suddenly awake again when you saw his cock spring out. He was big, bigger than the boys you had taken by far.

“I- I don’t know if you’ll fit. I’ve never had a man bigger than you.”

“No, sweet one, you’ve only had boys. I can’t wait to be the first man who wrecks you,” he rasps into your ears as your hands wrap themselves around his neck and down his back. Stars, he was sexy, an odd mix of shy and domineering all at once.

He started rubbing the tip against your cunt, and suddenly you were on fire again. You had never tried to get yourself again after one orgasm, always too spent and high on dopamine to go again. So you never got to realize that once you had one, more orgasms were not very difficult to achieve. Until, Mando’s tip swirled around your clit and you could feel the coil tighten yet again.

“M-Mando, I’m gonna cum again if you keep doing that,” you whimpered, causing him to groan and only put more pressure on your clit.

“Then do it, my love. I want to see your face when you cum for me.” You let out a series of curses until you came again, slightly weaker than the previous one but it rocked through you. Before you could even come down, Mando thrusted himself into you in one go. You let out a yell bordering on a scream, feeling your pussy stretch itself to fit all of him. Stars, the burn of the stretch made you shiver.

“Oh f-fuck, my sweet girl has an even sweeter pussy,” he gasped as he started to thrust himself into you. “S-so fucking t-tight and w-warm, I’m not gonna last…”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Mando’s thrusts sped up, slamming into you at an unfathomable rate.

“No no, look at me. Look at me while I’m making you feel good,” Mando growled as he grabbed your cheeks to make you look at his helmet. You tried so hard to keep your eyes open, but as Mando tilted his hips just right, jamming into your G-spot, you lost control over your body. You were saying something, but you were so far gone that you couldn’t decipher what it was.

“Is that- fuck- all you can say, pretty girl? Please? Please what? What do you need, fuck I’ll give you everything you want, just say the word,” Mando rambled, just as drunk on your pussy as you were on his cock.

“D-d-don’t stop, p-please don’t s-stop,” you uttered out, not completely sure if you were having one long orgasm or if it was building to something even bigger.

“I’m never gonna stop, baby, never wanna stop…” Without warning, an orgasm so strong racked through your body. You had never cum just from penetration before, but the way the hair at the base of Mando’s cock was brushing against your cunt as he fucked you sent you beyond the edge.

“Oh my fucking- stars, baby you’re so tight I can barely move… I-I’m gonna-“ Mando gasped as you felt him cum deep inside you, moaning louder than you thought he would.

You both gasped for breath, utterly exhausted from the best sex in both of your lives. Mando pulled out and laid next you on the bed, stroking your hair gently.

“I wish I could kiss you right now,” you croaked, voice almost gone from overuse. Silence fell over the two of you, and you wanted to take back your words, until…

“Close your eyes. And don’t open them. Promise?” he said.

“I promise, I swear I won’t,” you said, shutting your eyes with your heart leaping at the prospect of finally kissing him. After a few moments of the sounds of shuffling next to you, you felt a soft pair of lips meet yours. It was tentative at first, but after a few gentle pecks Mando caressed your face and kissed you with a passion so strong it took your breath away. You felt his mustache tickle your upper lip as he kissed like if he pulled away, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

When he finally pulled away, you reminded yourself to keep your eyes closed as he put his helmet back on. You pulled yourself over him, almost in the exact position you had found yourself in when you woke up from your dream, except this time Mando’s arm was draped under your neck.

“I’m glad we finally did that,” Mando admitted after a while. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first day you started living on the Crest.” You lifted your head from his chest and rested your chin on his right pec, gazing at his face.

“You mean that?” you ask.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You grinned from ear to ear, thanking the Maker that this wasn’t just because Mando was horny and he had found you getting yourself off on him. He had wanted you, too.

“For a minute I thought…I thought you’d tell me to leave and never come back. I was so embarrassed to wake up like that. But… I guess it ended up helping us out,” you chuckled. You heard Mando chuckle too as his chest shook a bit, warming your heart.

“I will never ask you to leave. I want you to stay, I need you to stay,” he admitted quietly. “Plus, I don’t know anyone else who would take care of Grogu so well.”

“Oh, Maker, Grogu!” you exclaimed, realizing Grogu had been closed in his pram in the corner throughout the entire… act.

“The device is soundproof, he didn’t hear a thing,” Mando explained. You let out a sigh of relief.

“I don’t know, with those ears?” you laughed, hearing Mando laugh with you.

“Maybe they’re more for balance rather than hearing,” Mando replied, causing you to let out a loud laugh, making joy flood Mando’s body.

“We can only hope…”

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soggy-platee · 3 years

Text

Doubt

Rating: M

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader

Summary: You get hurt doing something stupid, Din has to confront his feelings for you.

Crossposted on ao3 here!

This was bad. Like, bad bad. You had gotten into fights before, of course, been roughed up more times than you could count. But previously, you had always been able to make it back to the Crest and hide the evidence before Mando got back. This time, however, you weren’t even sure if you would make it back to the Crest alone, much less heal yourself.

Tatooine, of all places, was where you were currently limping through, Mos Eisley to be more exact. Mando had stopped for repairs and you had made the usual excuse to get yourself out of mechanic-assistant duty, yelling something about supplies over your shoulder before hustling to the nearest cantina. Mando and you had been on countless missions over the years, sometimes staying and working together for months at a time. This current run was one of the longer ones, being on your third month-long job with the Mandalorian. Honestly, you had no idea why the hell he kept working with you. You were his total and utter opposite. All talkative and friendly, and a total ass most of the time. Your skills didn’t exactly make up for your personality either, you were a half-decent hunter at best. You liked to think it was because you always filled the silence of the old ass ship he insisted on using.

You had a feeling that if he found out the stupid shit you were always getting into, it might be your last time with him. It was some fucking dumb wager you made, betting on a brawl you knew nothing about. Somehow you won, and that seemed to piss a lot of people off. You had managed to fight most of them off, everyone underestimated you at first because of your small stature. But that element of surprise only lasts so long, and there were just too many of them this time. A slash to your thigh with a rusty knife took you to one knee before a first connected with your temple, sending you sprawling on the dusty floor. After that, it had been a flurry of hits and kicks before the owner chased them off. You had lain there for a while, trying to regain some sense of up and down through your obvious concussion. When you finally lifted yourself to your knees, the only thing that was clear in your mind was the idea of Mando seeing you like this, realizing how reckless and useless you really were. That’s why you were so desperate to get back and cover the evidence. As much as you hated to admit it, you liked working with him, loved it really. It had nothing to do with the little crush you had been harboring on the metal man, you often told yourself.

The port coming into view shook you from your thoughts. No sign of the Mandalorian yet. You tried to hurry, but the deep cut on your thigh stung in protest. You tried to walk as smoothly as possible, the last thing you needed was some other low-life on this dump planet to try to rob you in your weakened state. The high walls of the building loomed over you, casting you in shadow as you moved through the entrance. You moved as silently as you could, listening for the slightest movement to indicate the presence of your partner. The place was silent besides the small tinkering of the pit droids in some corner. You grimaced to yourself, at least this was working out for you .

You limped up the ramp into the dark hold. Making your way to your bunk, you fumbled around in the darkness for your own little stash of medical supplies. You only ever took from your personal stuff; the last thing you needed was being caught because Mando noticed his shit was missing. He had enough of his own wounds to worry about. You precariously gathered all your things into one hand, the other holding your upright. A bacta shot slipped, clinking loudly on the floor as a wave of dizziness came over you. Your hand immediately shot to the wound on your thigh.

Fuck , that was way more blood than you thought. You dipped down to grab the shot, the same dizziness doubling with the movement. Finally, after a few seconds of fumbling, your bloody hand found the cold tube. At the same time your fingers closed around the object, the cockpit door slide open with a metallic hiss. Your head shot up to the sound only to find the large outline of Mando hovering over you in the doorway. He was silent as were you, caught in a contest in the near-darkness of the hold. You swallowed hard. He was usually quiet, but this time, you could feel the anger radiating off him in waves.

Finally, he moved, hitting the first rung and the second before leaping down with a resounding thud . The moment he landed you shot up as fast as your injured state could allow. You both rose straight in tandem. He was directly in front of you, making your height difference more than noticeable. It made you feel even worse, even more, insignificant compared to the warrior in front of you. It was still too dark to make out his features, or lack thereof, but you could hear the creak of his leather gloves as his gloves clenched and unclenched.

Holy shit, he was pissed.

Your mind was racing, maybe you could still get out of this. Apologize like crazy, get out of his sight before he could realize just how bad you had fucked up, how hurt you were. You just hoped to God that he wasn’t using any special settings in his helmet to see you in the dark.

Finally, the damn broke.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing?”

Your brain went into overdrive, getting ready every half-assed excuse you could. Before you could get a word out, he trampled over you nearly shouting, “You were gone for an hour , and now the whole fucking town is talking about the brawl that you were at the center of? Over a fucking bet ? How reckless can you -”

Your anger grew as he grew louder, words getting harsher. Who the hell did he think he was? Yeah, yeah you fucked up, but he wasn’t your fucking dad. W hy did he get a say in what you did anyway?

“Sorry, we can’t all be as fucking upstanding as you, okay? I was blowing off a little steam, Jesus , it’s not that big of a deal…”

You could hear his surprised grunt under your tirade, actually physically moving away an inch at your verble assault. He recovered quickly though, leaning back toward you, leaving only inches between you as he growled, “ Not a big deal ? You know what kind of people are on this fucking planet, how much trouble you could get into?”

You paused, confused. Wait, was he mad at you because you got into trouble or because you could get into more?

Your pause made him continue, lecturing you firmly about how reckless and stupid your actions were. You just took it, hoping he would give up soon and leave you alone. He would have to quit soon if there was any hope of still hiding your injuries from him, you were growing fainter by the second, all previous anger seeping out along with your strength. The blood from your leg had to be pooling onto the floor by now.

There was a break in his speech, so you interjected in a feeble attempt to end the conversation. “ I’m sorry... I get it. I was wrong.” you practically whispered.

“You’re sorry ? I don’t-”

Suddenly, the ship was filled with an overwhelming light. You lifted a hand to shield your eyes, shoulders hunching as the light hit your face. Mando spun in comparison, stance low as he searched for an assault. After a moment, you both realized that the floodlights of the hanger had come on, compensating for the now-low light of sunset outside. In the same second, you realized what Mando would turn to see. You tried to hide, pulling your injured thigh as far back as you could without falling over. But it was no fucking use, bruises smattered your face and arm, dried blood leaving a trail from your brow-

He turned, freezing once his visor met your pained expression. He stood still for a moment and you started with your excuse, “Listen, it’s not as bad as it looks. I can do it myself if you just-”

He was on you a second, grabbing you by the shoulders and pushing you back to sit on the lip of your bunk. You were shocked as you were sat down, he hardly ever touched you, let alone with the firmness and caring that he was using now. His hands moved to cup your face, turning it back and forth, taking in the damage. You braced for a lashing.

Instead, his voice was deadly low when he asked, “Who did this?”

You jerked in his grip, “What?”

He gripped your face tighter, thumb brushing over your cheek before repeating, “ Who did this ? Just give me a name and they’re fucking dead.”

Your dumbfounded expression was reflected in his visor. Wasn’t he just mad at you?

“I’m- I’m sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that. I didn’t know you were...hurt.”

Whoops, you didn’t mean to say that out loud.

His hands probed their way from your temples down your body, noting every bruise and mark. Finally, he reached the cut on your leg, hissing through his modulator as he felt the sticky fabric around the opening.

He sighed your name as he took in the extent of the damage, “God this is- Why didn’t you tell me ?”

You shifted nervously on your bunk, you couldn’t tell him the truth. It was lame, it was weird . It would freak him out, how much you wanted to stay with him.

I’m so desperate to stay with you I’d rather bleed out than tell you I fucked up.

Yeah, that would go over well.

So you simply acted aloof, hoping to God that he would buy it. As he continued to inspect you leg, you plastered a fake grin on your face and spoke down to him, “Come on Mando, you don’t think that I can handle some cuts myself?

His helmet shot up to your face so fast your expression faltered, giving way to wide eyes and parted lips. He seemed pleased with himself at breaking your facade, grunting in approval as he returned his attention downward.

The both of you were silent as he dug his hand through the medical supplies you had retrieved initially. He started at the cut, snipping away the fabric with careful precision. You had a death grip on his shoulder while he cleaned and cauterized the ugly thing. He kept checking with you, breaking every few minutes with “Are you okay?” , “You’re doing great” , and “Almost done, just hang on.”

What the hell did you do to deserve this, all his devastating kindness?

When he moved to the cuts on your head, you were totally unable to keep your face neutral. Your eyes were saucers, desperately trying to burn this image into your memory. His soft gloves brushing your hair away, helmet titled in concentration. As he cleaned the various areas, one hand soon came to rest on your hip lightly, helping him maintain his crouched position. You couldn’t help the soft smile that overtook your features. You doubted he even knew what he was doing, doubt he knew just what the hand was doing to you.

The pain was getting to you now. Through the bliss of Mando’s hands on you and the numbness of the blood loss, each breath shot stabbing pains through your body. You tried your best to be quiet, accept his treatment without any fuss, but as he reached on a particularly bad cut just above your brow, a whimper of pain slipped from your pursed lips. He pulled back instantly, visor pointing to your eyes. You gave him a tight smile in return, grunting, “I’m good. Keep going.”

He sighed, weighing your words, then slowly returned to his task. God, it felt like molten lava on you, every brush of the cloth made you impossibly tense. No doubt Mando felt you tighten under his grip as he spoke, “What can I do?”

You didn’t even think before you responded through clenched teeth, “ Just talk ...please.”

To his credit, he didn’t laugh at your request. Didn’t even hesitate in fact. He just started talking, to your amazement.

“You know, I was fucking pissed when I was in town and heard you had gotten into that fight... God , I was fucking angry with you…”

You winced at his words, even though you knew the sentiment was well deserved.

“But then I was scared. You could’ve...I was scared you were hurt. I started toward the cantina to find you before, before-I just kept picturing you hurt and it scared the shit out of me.”

You didn’t know what to say, silence falling over the hull once more as you fell short. He had to be kidding, just something to keep you occupied.

You knew that was wrong, as his hand had fallen from your face long ago. It wasn’t a distraction, it was a confession. You should be overjoyed, it was absolutely everything you ever wanted to hear from him. So why weren’t you?

Your brain couldn’t process why, so your mouth took charge, words tumbling from your mouth in a desperate attempt to understand.

“But I didn’t-that was all my fault . I was stupid, reckless , you said it yourself. You shouldn’t- I don’t want you worrying about me over that shit. I fucked up, I fucked up big and -”

He cut you off with a squeeze of your hip, skating his helmet back and forth to your confusion.

“I was just scared and I took it out on you...I’m sorry for that. I don’t like that you think that way. I don’t want- ” he took a breath, collecting himself by ducking his helmet down before returning to face you.

“What I am trying to say is that I don’t care what you did, I just want you safe.”

Tears pooled in the corner of your eyes, all the stress of the say leaving you all at once as you sagged forward, head dropping. You were overwhelmed, but happy. So fucking happy. Everything had just fallen into place and you just couldn’t hold it in.

Mando, unfortunately, took your actions to be ones of injury, as he quickly moved one hand to your jaw, fingers wrapping around your chin tightly forcing you to face him. A tear fell off your nose onto his glove, making a pleasant plopping noise.

He spoke hurriedly, “Hey-hey look at me. What is it? Something hurt?”

You grinned in his grip and grabbed him by his ammo sling. Pulling him close, you leaned forward and rested your forehead against the cool metal of his helmet as he let out a grunt of surprise.

You were both silent for a moment, breathing in tandem before his hand left your chin and came to rest in your hair.

“Not hurt, then?” he guesses. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“No, not hurt.” you choke out around your tears.

Another beat of silence, then, “Wanna tell me why you’re crying?”

You let out a quick laugh at his tone, it was interesting to hear the Mandalorian so hesitant.

You sighed, then said, “I was so worried when I got back here. I thought that, if you saw what I got myself into, you- well, that you wouldn’t... want me anymore.”

His hand gripped tighter in your hair, pressing his helmet more firmly into you. “ Nothing could make that happen. You hear me? Nothing .”

You brought your hand to his still on your hip, gripping it softly. “ I hear you .”

#the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #pedro pascal #din djarin

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thefact0rygirl · 3 years

Text

BEHAVE | 3/3

{part one} {part two} {masterlist}

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Boba Feet x Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: consensual somnophilia, oral sex (m and f receiving), 69, anal sex, anal play (ass/mouth, fingering), creampie, softdom!boba, pet names (like a lot of them), implied age gap (reader is of age), just filth. pure filth.

A/N: ass, ass, ass, ass. That’s it. That’s the chapter. I know anal sex is not everyone’s cup of tea, so you may want to skip this if that’s not your thing.

Cross-posted on ao3

It wasn’t often that you woke up in time for the sunrise. Not that you were looking to make a habit of it, but the constant pelting of sand against the windows prevented you from sleeping.

A sandstorm was coming.

The winds had been gathering all night, and now Tatooine was puffing out hurling blasts of sand and wind, making the Palace shake. You had been drifting in and out of sleep for the past hour, but it was no use. It sounded like nature was on the edge of a full-blown assault.

Boba was passed out to your left, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing outside. He laid on his back with one arm thrown over his eyes as a makeshift eye mask while the other rested against chest.

You opted not to wake him…yet. Sighing, you undid your cocoon of blankets and stood up on your pillow. Standing on the tips of your toes, you gripped the ledge of one of the rectangular windows that lined the upper half of the walls. Might as well see what in seven hells was happening outside.

Despite the rising twin suns, the sky was incredibly dull. The first rays of sunlight barely pierced through the thick dust. You could barley see Slave I in hanger below. Tatooine sandstorms were no joke, and it looked like this one wouldn’t show mercy.

No one was going anywhere until the storm passed.

You couldn’t help but smile as you glanced down to the sleeping man. Boba had plans to travel off-world that day, something to do with his criminal empire. He wouldn’t be back for at least 6 rotations, but given the brewing storm, his trip wouldn’t be starting that day.

Returning to your original spot, you turned to face Boba. He was gone to the world, chest falling in even breaths as soft snores escaped his mouth. The light blanket situated on his chest was the only thing stopping you from seeing his naked body. You both were naked, actually, too exhausted to bother dressing after yesterday.

Yesterday.

Subconsciously, your breathing slowed to match Boba’s slow pace as you lost yourself in your memories. You let the memories from the hallway and the ‘fresher play on a continuous loop, brushing away the last bit of drowsiness from you.

Your mind was fully awake and you became more aware of your body. Your knees felt significantly better, so much so that you didn’t even remember the scrapes until the image him kneeled in front of you flashed in your head.

“Behave and I promise to fill your other holes.”

“I’m a man of my word. Stop pouting.”

“You just need to be patient.”

“You’re my little slut, right? Only for me.”

His words floated through you, swirling between your legs and igniting the nerves throughout your body. Boba was a man of honor. He didn’t throw around the word “promise.” If Boba promised you something, he would deliver. Didn’t matter what it was.

Your lower half grew heavy at the prospect of Boba fucking your ass. You had never taken anyone back there before. But for Boba you would try. Frankly, you would try a lot of things for him, with him.

Because now matter how rough he was, he never felt like an intrusion. As you two grew closer and your relationship extended past sex, it felt like he was a part of you every time he pushed into you. You knew anal would hurt, but the thought of Boba fucking your most intimate spot... That made your thighs clench in excitement.

You told him months ago that you would let him. It was right after he killed Bib Fortuna. Boba was splayed out across his newly claimed throne as you bounced on his cock. You were turned away from him, you could see the frayed ends of Boba’s robe under the dais, when he brushed a finger along your other hole.

“You ever let someone fuck your ass, princess?”

“N-no.”

“Would you let me?”

“Yes.”

“So good, so dirty for your new king.”

Since then, Boba began paying a bit more attention to your backside, using his fingers and mouth to tease you. Your anticipation grew into excitement when he bought you a plug after a trip to the Mid Rim.

But despite the encouragement, Boba made you wait. He dangled the fantasy in front of you like it was fresh bantha steak and you were a starving stray.

But now. Now was different.

Boba promised and he always kept his promises.

That’s when you noticed the growing tent under the blanket.

You couldn’t wait, growing more and more eager as the fantasy seemed so completely tangible. In a moment of desire and courage, you slid down next to his body, slowly spreading his legs so you could crouch between them.

Boba loved waking up to your mouth around him, especially when it was a surprise. He had long ago given you the green light to wake him up with oral. Maybe you both could indulge in your fantasies that morning.

Pulling the blanket down his body, you watched him, making sure that your movements hadn’t disturbed his sleep. When his breathing remained steady, you looked down to see his cock resting heavy against his stomach.

Gently, you wrapped your hand around him. He grumbled lightly at the movement, but didn’t wake. You started pumping him in your hand, giving the tip of his cock a light squeeze before sliding back to down to the base.

Boba looked so serene, almost harmless as you worked him up. But you knew better than to underestimate a slumbering beast.

You looked down at his cock, mouth watering as you watched the first droplet of precum leak out. Lowering your head, you licked up the creamy substance, letting its salty taste flood your tastebuds.

You licked him again, and again, until his entire length was coated in your saliva. You could feel the blood pumping through his member, now rock hard in your hand. Boba shuffled to the side, causing you to halt your actions. Your tongue was still flat against the underside of his cock. You held your breath waiting for his next movement…

Nothing. Still asleep.

Giving him a final lick, you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Sucking lightly, you began lowering your mouth, letting the familiar weight settle against your tongue until his tip nudged the back of your throat.

With your cheeks sucked in, you bobbed your head up and down, ears trained to pick up any sound of him waking up. Just when you thought you could make him cum before he woke, you felt a hand tangle itself in your hair.

“Needy girl.”

Boba’s voice was deeper and raspier than normal, his vocal cords still stiff from sleep. You moaned around his member in response continuing your ministrations.

“What are you doing?” He moaned as you pulled him out of your mouth. His mind was still hazy, and with his blood rushing south, it took him a moment to regain his sense of self. What time was it and what the fuck was that banging?

Moving his arm away from his eyes, Boba blinked as he adjusted to the dim lighting before sitting up on his elbows. He groaned when he saw your hand smeared with your drool as you pumped his cock.

You offered him a coy smile, “Waking you up.”

“Careful, little one.” His hand tightened its hold in your hair. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

“Who says I can’t?”

“I’m leaving this morning.”

“Nuh-uh. Sandstorm,” Your eyes shot up to the windows above. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Well that explained the banging. Boba’s steady breathing began to fragment into shaky puffs as you pulled him back into your mouth.

“It’s too early to do anything.” Not that he really meant it. He would never complain to you waking him up like this, even if it was at the ass-crack of dawn. But there was a reason why you (jokingly) referred to him as a grumpy old, man.

“Then don’t do anything.” You sighed, letting him drop down against his stomach. Picking yourself up, you swung your legs around him until you were facing away from him. Your pussy pulsed against his chest as you scooted back until you were right in front of him.

You threw him a seamless smile, “Just watch me get wet for you.”

Boba fell back down, his head hitting his pillow with a soft thump. Fuck, you were on full display for him. He could stick his tongue out and lick your essence from your folds.

Leaning down, you lapped up a bead of precum from his swollen cock. You smiled to yourself when you felt Boba twitch against your tongue before taking him back into your mouth. Running your tongue in sloppy circles around the head, you sucked in your cheeks as his thickness filled your mouth. You would never get tired of Boba cutting off your air supply.

Your throat constricted around his imposing length as you took him deeper until he nudged the back of your throat. You held your head in place for a few moments, letting him feel your tight mouth around his thick length.

Just as you settled into a steady rhythm of worship on his member, his hands settled on your backside, letting his nails dig crescent moons into your flesh. The steady rhythm granted him the moment of clarity he needed to focus on the sight in front of him.

You were a feast, the best breakfast in bed he could want.

Lifting his head, he took his first lick, snaking his tongue from your clit all the way up to your ass. You moaned around his cock, letting the vibrations ring out around his cock. You opened your legs a little wider, trembling as Boba’s tongue ran up you again.

“Such a pretty pussy,” He soughed, his breath scorching your pussy. “So pretty like the rest of you.”

He never missed an opportunity to shower you in praise, especially the lewd kind. Those were his specialty.

Boba pressed his wide, open mouth against your throbbing core, letting no space get between his tongue and your pussy. He lapped at your outer lips, slipping his tongue inside of you just enough to feel your muscles clench before pulling out. Your hips shuffled back to push against his face when his tongue nudged your clit, teasing it out from under its hood to suck on it.

Flooding you with desire, he let you drip into his mouth, bathe his tongue in your sweet taste, before brining a hand down to your dripping entrance. He dragged a finger along your labia. You were already so open, so puffy for him. You moaned his name when he pumped his fingers inside of you.

“Let me hear you, pretty girl.”

“Say my name.”

“Who makes you this wet?”

He kept your impending climax at a simmer as he committed that morning to his memory. The sight on you on top of him, your taste, your smell, the feelings you were pulling from him. He wanted to remember it all before his trip.

Arousal was running through your veins, pooling at the junction of your thighs as Boba worked you closer to climax. Dropping a hand between his legs, you massaged the sensitive skin of his balls. You moved your head faster on him, wanting to feel his cum shoot down your throat. Too consumed with coaxing an orgasm out of Boba, you had almost forgotten your original plan.

Almost.

That was until he pulled his fingers from your pussy, the loud squelching sound made the tips of your ears burn.

Boba traced his two sickened fingers down to brush against your clit before he gripped each globe of your ass, spreading you so both your entrances were on full display to him.

“What’s made you so needy this morning?”

Boba knew exactly what you wanted. He wasn’t dumb, he knew his spoiled princess better than you gave him credit for. But he wanted to hear you say it. He wanted to hear those words mix with your airy moans.

“You, Boba,” You gasped, pulling him from your mouth. “Fill me like you promised."

“You have me.” His honeyed voice made you groan. He was taunting you. His fingers crawled down close to the middle of your backside. He knew exactly what you wanted.

You closed your eyes as your hand pumped him when Boba swirled a wet finger around your tight entrance. You jumped at the sensation, “Boba!”

You hand moved faster against him. You could feel him twitch around your fingers. He was close to his own release.

“Last night wasn’t enough?” He crooned his neck up to spit on your ass. Spreading his saliva around your puckered hole, he let the excess drop down to your pussy.

“Is someone getting greedy?”

“My ass, Boba…” You whispered, shutting your eyes as you let the new sensation consume your being.

“What was that?” That nerf herder.

“Fuck my ass!” You demanded and that didn’t sit well with Boba. He returned your sass with a hard slap on your ass.

You yelped as the shape of his handprint bloomed an angry shade of red.

“Ungrateful brat,” His voice dropped to a threat, “Try that again.”

“Please,” You squeaked, moving your hand faster around him to sweeten your words. “Fuck my ass. It’s yours.”

“Yeah? Think I can fit in this tight little hole?”

“Fuck— please, yes. I want you there.”

His reply came when his lips latched around your ass. His tongue darted out, licking and flicking over the tight hole. With each lick, his tongue pushed a little harder against you, testing your resistance.

Sliding a finger into your pussy, he used your juices as lubricant before tentatively attempting to push his finger inside your ass. You wiggled your bottom to magnify the sensation of his finger inside you, your hole flexing around his finger.

“If you want me to fuck this hole, you have to behave.” Boba instructed, unsurprised by the extra opposition to his finger. “And relax. Can you do that?”

You croaked out a “yes”, which he was enough for Boba. He was awestruck at the sight of your hole clenching around his finger. He couldn’t tell if his cock was throbbing from your ministrations or the thought of sliding inside your ass. But he couldn’t wait anymore.

Pulling away from you, he slapped your thigh before ordering, “I’ll fuck you deep, princess. On your hands and knees.”

You gave his cock one last pump before moving off of him. Boba rose from the bed, walking over to the chest of drawers to retrieve a bottle of lube.

Following his instructions, you moved into position, spreading your legs wide before scooting back until your feet hung off the edge of the bed. Boba tossed the lube next to you as he settled in between your legs.

Leaning his weight over you, he covered your back with his belly and chest. His arms slithered up your front to grab your chest, thumbs dragging across your nipples as his cock pressed against your pussy.

His head was right next to yours, and you turned to the side to press your eager lips to his open mouth. The angle caused your bottom lip to catch between his own lips and his tongue ran along your lip.

You melted into his embrace, letting you taste yourself from his mouth, before Boba pulled away, kissing your temple before pulling himself up.

His smoky voice called out your name, “Look at me.”

Bending around, you turned so you could fully see him. Standing behind you, his big frame dwarfed you. He stood tall, chest puffed out, his eyes blown and narrowed as you looked at you. As he spoke, his voice only only added to his brawny presence. He wasn’t playing.

“You need to behave. I’m serious, be a good girl. It’ll feel good, but it might hurt at first. So you need to listen. No bratty behavior or it’ll hurt worse. Okay?”

You nodded, taking in the seriousness of his tone. Everything about him reminded you of last night in the ‘fresher. His brash display of affection. His scolding and harsh words masking the fact that he hated seeing you in pain.

Boba Fett, your protector.

“I promise it’ll feel good. I wanna enjoy you, not destroy you.”

His eyes never left you, watching as you slowly nodded your head.

“And if you need to stop, you fucking say so. Push me off. Slap me. Something, but you let me know. Okay?”

“I need to hear it, little one,” He pressed, brows raised as he tilted his chin down. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Boba.”

Accepting your answer, he leaned down to seal your agreement with a rough kiss. You bit back a whine as he moved away too quickly, concentration taking over Boba as he grabbed the bottle of lube.

Pulling your cheek to the side, he dripped a small stream of lube down on your crack. Gathering the lube before it dripped down to your pussy, he massaged it around the tight ring of muscle. You pushed back towards him in anticipation, only to gasp when he smacked your ass, holding you in place.

“No. You take what I give you.”

“Sorry,” You sunk the rest of your concentration into staying still, you were skating on thin ice with your little demand from earlier. When he took a step back to smear the lube onto his length, reality set in. This was really happening.

There was some truth in his earlier taunting. Boba was big and thicker thicker than anyone you had before and you did struggle to take him in the beginning. And now as he lined himself up behind you, you wondered if he would even fit.

Behind you, Boba took a deep breath as he guided himself to your hole. Your bodies were still, poised around the fact that the tip of his cock was nestled against your asshole.

“Relax.” Boba instructed, although you couldn’t tell if it was for you or him. He was turned on, but he never wanted to hurt you and this would hurt.

His cock was thick and hard, aching with intensity of his pleasure. He hadn’t been this rigid for a long while, ever since he the night you and he christened his new throne.

You current position on all fours for him didn’t help stop the throbbing. Seeing you in such a depraved position for him made his knees buckle. Especially in that moment. Even in such a sinful position, you still looked crystalline pure.

He was spellbound at the tiny movements of your flesh as you became aware of his presence back there. With a bit more force, he watched the head of his cock disappear inside of you.

He stopped for a second when you hissed. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” You replied, your breathing started to edge into labored. “More, Boba.”

With your approval, he pushed in with all the patience he could muster. This was the biggest test of self-control for him to not just thrust balls deep inside of you.

He struggled to keep his eyes from rolling back. Your ass was tight. Tighter than any hand, more than any cunt, he had ever experienced.

“That’s it, good girl.”

“You’re doing so well.”

“Taking my big cock in your tight, little hole."

After a certain point, it felt like your hole was sucking Boba inside. The ragging winds outside faded into white noise as you took every inch until he was fully situated inside of you.

Boba looked down, fascinated to see himself entirely gone. His flesh merged with yours, completely hidden from sight. You had consumed him, in every sense of the word.

“That’s it, little one. All inside.”

Your hole stung from the stretch before fading into pleasure. You felt different — twisted up inside, as if something about you was warped — but in the best way possible. You had never felt this full before. He had reached different peaks, different zones that you didn’t even know existed. It was like you were exploring a new part of yourself.

Groaning at his announcement, you babbled his name, “B-Boba, stars. You’re filling me.”

“Yeah, I am,” He chuckled, running a soothing hand over your lower back. “Breathe, little one.”

“Move, Boba.” You instructed, mouth open feeling him

“Manners, girl. Please Boba.”

You gritted your teeth at his jeering, “Please, Boba. Move, I want it. Please.”

“Good girl.”

Leaning down to press himself against your back, he grabbed your neck to turn you towards him. He found your mouth already open and waiting for him. He kissed you carefully as he started moving.

You were so incredibly tight. Boba could feel your heartbeat around his cock. Or maybe it was his, he couldn’t tell. You felt amazing, slick warmth wrapped around his cock, your hole flexing at the intrusion.

Gripped within you, he kissed you as he pulled out again, this time pulling out slightly more and pushing back in slowly. After a while, you couldn’t tell if the discomfort was from his slow movements or him just being inside you.

He was gentle, too gentle. It was out of character. You knotted your fists into the sheets as you pushed your mouth against him harder.

“Boba,” You whined when he pulled away. “Faster! Please! I can take it.”

“Yeah? You like my fat cock in your ass?” He asked as he slipped his hand to your front to rub your clit.

“Yes, Boba, please…Fuck me hard!” You moaned as he rubbed your sensitive nub, fanning away the last remaining discomfort.

“Such a needy little slut,” He panted in your ear before using his other hand to push between your shoulder blades.

“Face down. Keep your ass up.”

With your head buried in the bed, Boba grabbed your hips and started moving. Slow and steady was long gone, shot dead and buried in some unmarked grave. He fucked you hard, his cock pulling half out before plunging in deeper. And deeper.

His rough thrusts made him feel bigger than normal. You cried out his name between low moans as his fingers worked against your clit.

“F—fuck, Bobaa…Take it. It’s yours. I-I’m yours.”

You both began racing to your releases. Boba’s thrusts became sloppier as he moved faster, teetering closer to the edge of orgasmic bliss. The coil of your own orgasm tightened at the base of your spine as he spoke dirty words to you.

“Good girl, letting me fuck her vir—rr—gin ass.”

“Taking me so well.”

“My filthy little slut."

You wailed, feeling your lower half pulse at the thought of him releasing inside of you. The thought of him dripping from you made your rising pleasure vibrate through every cell.

“So close, B-Boba…”

“Fill me. I—I can take it.

“Cum deep…Ahh, cum inside me.”

The pressure on your clit and a harsh thrust from behind had you surging forward, ecstasy bursting all around your body. You moaned as you let your arousal flood your system, the world flashed blinding white as your eyes fell behind your eyelids.

Somewhere in the explosion, you heard Boba reach his own end. With two final shudders, he emptied inside of you.

“M—my good girl…Take every last drop…”

Boba’s arms wrapped around your middle, as he stayed inside you, riding out his orgasm to the feeling of you clamping him in place. His head fell to his chest, watching your hole constrict around his base as he pumped you full with his seed.

Tides of euphoria rolled through your bodies, drowning every cell in pleasure, before calming to a gentle wave. Your bodies remained locked in silence as the smell of sex permeated in the room.

“I’m gonna pull out now.” Boba muttered, breaking the silence.

The feeling of emptiness made your legs give out and you collapsed on the bed as soon as Boba left you. You were shaking, your backside sore from the pounding.

“Turn around, pretty girl,” Boba murmured, hands wrapping around your middle to help you turn onto your back. He moved your legs off the edge of the bed so you were now laying with your legs spread out in front of you, your head resting on his pillow.

Boba crouched in front of you, mimicking the position he had found you in that morning. His hands rested on your shins, watching your chest shin from the dewy sweat covered you like silk.

“Can I see?”

You knew what he was referring to and you spread your legs as wide as you could, too exhausted to verbally answer him. Although, you weren’t sure it there was anything for him to see.

It felt different than when Boba came in your pussy. Normally, you could feel him drip out of you. But this time you didn’t. You felt the heavy feeling of his seed pooled inside your ass, but your tight hole, no longer open, plugged you.

Boba’s hand ghosted over the sensitive hole, eyes blown at the fact that not. single drop of his seed had spilled out.

“You took me so deep, little one. Can you feel it?”

“Yes,” You replied softly as exhaustion settle into your muscles. If you weren’t so tired, you would have sworn you heard Boba whimper.

“Can you push it out for me? Let me see my cum leak out of you.”

Abiding by his request, you flexed and constricted your bottom half until you felt his warm seed trickle out.

“Oh, pretty girl,” He sounded like a wounded animal. “You’re gonna make a mess.”

Boba watched his white cream fall down your ass and pool on the bed until you couldn’t push anymore. Boba’s eyes held adoration for you and only you. You had chosen Boba to give you this. Not someone else, but him. Boba Fett.

“Thank you.” Boba whispered, moving down next to you, wrapping his arms around your sleepy frame.

You held each other, arms and legs contorted that it was difficult to tell where you ended and he started. A long moment passed, and then several more, until you needed to use the ‘fresher.

Boba watched you as you stumbled to the ‘fresher and for the first time in a very long time, he smiled. Not smirked, not snarled, but smiled. A genuine smile. A tender one, that made his eyes crinkled at the edges, and his body warm as if a small sun had replaced his heart. It was one of growing happiness, growing content, and maybe even hope.

For a moment, Boba could revel in the idea that the universe that condemned him to a world of misdeed had extended an olive branch. Because if someone like you could have chosen him, of all people, to share yourself with, then maybe there was chance for him.

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