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entitled-fangirl · 3 months

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You've made me worry.

Din Djarin x reader

Summary: The reader stands by while her Mandalorian faces a near-death situation. The two realize their feelings for each other.

Words: 2,705

Warning: Near-death situation, crying, explosions, Din actually talking about his feelings....

Masterlist <3

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She stood by idly as she watched Cobb Vanth and her Mandalorian scope out the dangers of the Krayt Dragon.

She stood on the sand, her body close to Mando’s in comfort. She was worried. Quite worried. She knew Mando could protect himself just fine, and he often did so, but it didn’t stop her rambunctious mind from coming up with the worst possible scenario.

The Mandalorian’s mind wasn’t too far off from those thoughts as well. He should’ve left her and the kid somewhere safe, somewhere away from what was to happen, but he didn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to leave them out of his sightline. At least here, he could see for himself that they were alright.

A shrill cry sounded through the valley as the sand people below began to panic.

She started to as well. She pulled the child closer to her body. It reassured him that he was safe, but she didn’t do it for him. She did it for her. She needed to know he was going to be safe.

The ground in the valley began to move and the Krayt Dragon emerged from the sand. Its mouth opened, showing its long, sharp teeth. It practically swallowed some of the sand people in front of it.

The sand people tried shooting at it. It seemed to work for a moment, but soon, even the arrows that pierced its skin couldn’t stop it. It drew closer, vomiting acid on the sand people, their screams echoing through the valley.

She felt her stomach drop. She had never seen a Krayt Dragon before. She hadn’t seen many beasts like this before. It made her only admire her Mandalorian even more. He was even stronger than she thought if he felt confident enough in his skills to leave her and the child this close to the scene.

“Almost…,” his voice drew out, waiting for the moment to strike, “…NOW!”

Cobb Vanth pressed the detonator. An explosion under the dragon shook the ground below them.

She stumbled slightly, unprepared. Mando’s hand shot out to her bicep to steady her. He wasn’t even looking in her direction. He did as if instinct. The child simply continued to tuck his face in her neck. She looked up at her Mando. He held a content look to him, seen just through his body language. The dragon was dead. It worked.

She felt her body let out a long sigh before a rumbling sound from up the mountain was heard. Another dragon emerged from the top of the mountain. And he seemed much angrier than the first. His vomit fell a long way down the mountain, wiping out many of the people residing below.

“They’re picking us off like womp rats,” Cobb Vanth said as he moved to get his weapons, “Let’s get after it.”

Mando looked up at the dragon with a careful eye before moving to get his own weapon. He walked back to the child and his girl, giving them a knowing look through his helmet. His hand reached up to her cheek, but fell just as quick as it had came. The two beskar wearing warriors took off with their jet packs.

The woman and child simply watched as they soared through the air. A silent wish left the woman’s mouth in hope that it could protect her Mandalorian.

The two men landed in the valley, Mando’s gaze looking up towards the family he left behind to assure their protection in his mind. That they were far away enough. But he wasn’t sure they were.

“I’ve got an idea. Get its attention.” Mando commanded.

Cobb Vanth bent down, releasing the small missile from the top of his pack. It exploded against the creature’s head. It turned to look the two dead on, moving its body towards them.

“Well, I got its attention. NOW WHAT?” Cobb Vanth yelled.

But Mando was calm. Collected. His Mandalorian side had come through. And when it did, he could become deadly calm. “You still have that detonator?”

The detonator that connected to the bombs that were loaded onto the Bantha behind them? Of course, he did. Cobb Vanth handed it to him without hesitation. “Take it. What’s the plan?”

Mando looked at him through his visor. “You’re going to take care of the woman and child.”

Cobb Vanth’s head tilted in thought. He would do that for him, but it left a question in his mind, “What are YOU gonna do?”

“I don’t know, but wish me luck.” And with that, Mando hit Cobb Vanth’s jet pack with the butt of his weapon, prompting the jet pack to release its condensed air. Cobb Vanth flew through the air unwillingly, leaving the Mandalorian to face the dragon alone.

It did work. Cobb Vanth landed not too far from the Mandalorian’s little family. He ran to them quickly to not only fulfill the man’s wishes, but to watch what would become of the warrior below.

The woman quickly turned to Cobb Vanth, resting her free hand against his armored chest, her motherly instinct taking over, “You alright?”

He nodded, taking off his helmet. “M'Fine.”

Their attention was turned back to the scene in front of them as the dragon let out another cry.

Cobb Vanth had never seen the woman so tense. So fearful. She was shaking violently as she could only watch as her Mandalorian could be killed in front of her. In front of the child.

Mando held the rope to the Bantha as the dragon moved closer and closer. He had to wait for the right moment. Wait for the dragon to get close enough for the plan to work. But the distance between them was shrinking and Mando realized he may not pull this off as well as he had originally thought.

He stayed put as the dragon lunged forward into the dirt, taking the Bantha and the man in its mouth.

A loud cry left the woman’s mouth, coming from deep in her throat. She had seen it all happen in front of her. She had seen her greatest fear come to life. Of all the dangerous things she had seen him do, this was the one to take him.

Cobb Vanth let out a sigh, his body moving toward the woman. He gently took the child from her grasp. His other arm moved around her waist, pushing her back into his armor cover chest to give her stability. He felt her body began to rack with sobs, her hands moving to her face to wipe each tear as it fell.

He felt his heart break at the sight. This was not weeping, or even sobbing. This was the most heart wrenching screams he had ever heard come from a person’s throat. The ground settled, and all that was left was the sand of where he had once stood.

Cobb Vanth began to pull at the woman to pull her away from the scene. She shouldn’t stay here long. She tried to put up a fight, but she knew it was no use.

They began to walk away as they felt the ground move again. He knew he needed to get her as far away from the scene as possible, but he couldn’t help but look back. Either the dragon was ready to fight once more, or something else was to happen.

He pulled her back to where they were quickly.

The dragon emerged from the sand, its mouth opening, revealing electric shocks that came from the inside of its body. Something had flown from its mouth.

Her heart dropped, her tears stopping suddenly.

Her Mando.

He turned in the air to look back at the beast before setting off the detonator.

A huge tremor went through the ground.

She held to Cobb Vanth for support as they watched the dragon explode in the valley.

The Mandalorian landed in front of what was left of its now dead body, the sand falling sand beginning to coat his armor. But he couldn’t care less about that.

He cared about where Cobb Vanth was with his girl and child.

Once he regained his composure, he once again flew into the air, searching for where he had left them. And they were there.

He flew toward them quickly, his heart racing at the sight.

Before he could even land, she was running to him. His feet barely hit the ground before he felt her arms wrap around his neck.

He felt himself relax before his hands moved to her waist, pushing her back, “Hey.” Her eyes met his visor. “Don’t. I… I’m covered in mucus..”

Now he could truly see her face. The tear stains on her soft cheeks. The tremble her bottom lip still held. The sand that coated her hair. And the relieved look she held in her eye.

“I don’t care.”

That was enough for him to pull her to him tightly. Their bodies pressed each other as close as possible, his armor being the only thing that separates them.

Cobb Vanth smiled at the scene, moving himself forward towards the warrior. The child in his arms babbled. “That was some scene you pulled there, Mando.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet shifted up from its resting spot against her head as he looked up at the man. “Got it done, didn’t I?”

Cobb Vanth laughed at that, “Kriff. ‘Bout killed us all. Almost killed her.” His head motioned forward at the girl in Mando’s grasp.

She pulled back from him gently, her body now covered in mucus in certain places. The temporary sticky feeling was worth the permanent relief she had in her heart.

His helmet shifted down to look at her, “That true, Cyar’ika?”

She let out a small sniffle, now slightly embarrassed at the men’s stares, “y…yeah…”

A soft laugh came from Mando’s helmet, his stature relaxing more and more by the second. She was so sweet. So caring for him. His hand moved back down her her waist, leading her off, “C’mon Mesh’la. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Cobb Vanth followed behind them with the child, a shit eating grin on his face.

…

A few hours later, the Mandalorian sat at the table of Cobb Vanth’s home. The sheriff himself sat across from him at said table, drinking from a glass of splotchka. The helmet-wearing man’s gaze shifted to the side of the room, where the girl lay on the cot set out for her, her body relaxed and her face holding a peaceful expression as she slept.

“Ya know,” Cobb Vanth said, bringing the Mandalorian out of his thoughts, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The Mandolorian’s head shifted back to look at the man. “…seen what?”

Cobb Vanth’s gaze moved to the girl. “Never seen a girl care for a Mandalorian that much.”

Silence filled the room as he considered the sheriff’s words. The man took a drink, continuing his words. “She’s something else, Mando. I’d keep her around.”

Mando became defensive at the talk of her like that. He didn’t like anyone discussing her, even the sheriff. His voice dropped slightly, “I intend to.”

Cobb Vanth grinned, “Good. She’s good for you, for the kid. She’s a pretty thing though.” He leaned on the table to let his voice drop, “Word of advice, Mando? I wouldn’t just keep her around. I’d keep her very close. Dangerous to be traveling with a defenseless thing like that. Pretty, smart, caring. Anybody would snatch her up if they got the chance.”

“They won’t get the chance.”

Cobb Vanth nods, “I believe you.”

…

The next morning, the girl awoke to see the Mandalorian sitting at the table, polishing one of his blasters with a rag. She stretched, letting out a soft sigh. His head perked up to look at her. She felt his gaze on her, watching her every move as if she could disappear if he turned his back.

“‘Morning, Mando.”

He nods his head to her, “Good morning, Cyare.”

She stands up, stretching her legs with another sigh. Her hair was ruffled and her eyes still puffy from the previous day’s excursion, but he still admired her as if she was an angel.

“Cyar’ka…?”

She moved to the table to sit, her body now residing in the chair beside him, “…Mando?”

A sigh left his lips. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.

“Were you truly worried for me yesterday? You mourned?”

Her eyes flashed with embarrassment before they went back. Her hand began to rub her leg like she does when she’s anxious. He had seen her do it many times before. His hand reached out to steady it under the table.

“…tell me, Cyare.”

Her eyes looked to his visor where she thought his eyes would be before a small nod of her head gave him the message he wished he would get.

His own helmet nods now. He’s never been good at this kind of thing, but now he was going to have to learn.

“Thank you.”

Her eyebrows knit in confusion. “…what?”

His voice came out more confident the second time, “I said ‘Thank you.’”

“…why?”

She couldn’t see his jaw clench under his helmet in thought.

“…You’ve made me worry, Cyar’ika.”

She let out a soft laugh, “And that’s something to be thankful for?”

He nods, his voice strong, “Very much so.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant. Her face must have shown her thoughts because the Mandalorian continued.

“…I have things I worry for now. So, I will say it again. Thank you.”

“…the child, you mean? You’re thankful for the child?”

He nods, his helmet moving side to side, “Yes. I am. Of course. But that’s not what I meant.”

She leaned forward onto the table, “I don’t think I understand, Mando.”

His hand reached out, touching her cheek as it had the day before. Only now, it stayed there. “I worry for you, Mesh’la. Every time I look away, I fear you’ll be taken from me, as if you’re just a dream. But you’re not a dream. You’re here. And… you care for the child in ways I never could. You make him feel safe, and loved and…,” he stops considering if he should say his next words, “… I want to make you feel safe and loved, Mesh’la. I do. I can’t describe how worried I was for you. If I had made the wrong decision and brought you two to your death yesterday. It eats at me, knowing that one day, I may not be there when something happens. When something goes wrong. I worry for you every second. If you’re eating. If you rest enough. If you’re happy. If you’re tired. If you’re scared. If you care for me as much as I do for you…”

Silence falls in the room as both of them are taking in what he said. Even Mando didn’t think that would come out. But it had. And it had all been true.

She takes a deep breath, “I care for you, Mand-“

“Din.”

Her eyes widen, “…Din?”

An audible breath leaves his lungs at the sound of his name on her lips. He nods.

She continues, “I thought you died.”

“You thought I’d leave you and the child?”

He said it with no hesitation. As if it was a ridiculous thought for her to be worried about.

“…I watched it swallow you whole, M…. Din.”

“I’d crawl out from the grave back to you.”

She was utterly speechless. He held no hesitation to him. He was so confident in his words. It left her a little breathless at his wording.

“…you…you would?”

He nods, “I’d do a lot worse for you.”

More silence falls over the room before a realization is in her eyes.

“Where’s the child?”

He wished she could see his lips pull into a grin under the mask. “He’s fine. Cobb Vanth has him.”

She relaxes in her chair at that. Her own lips pull into a smile of her own, “…Strange little family we’ve made, Din. Don’t you think?”

His hand goes over hers, his gloved fingers toying with hers.

“I’d rather worry over you two than anyone else in the galaxy.”

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netherfeildren · 8 months

Text

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter IV : Aite

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Hunter/prey dynamics; Dom/sub undertones; Spanking; Orgasm delay/denial; Overstimulation; Rough sex; Squirting

A/N: happy mando monday mother fuckers — literally nobody look at me i have nothing to say for myself

also, again, canon deviation — he’s got the beskar spear here already.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word count: 9.3K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER IV : AITE

MEGARA: You love the light so much?

AMPHITRYON: I do, I love its hopes.

Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four plays by Euripides

You stir hours later, sweltering and tangled under the covers in the dark, cramped alcove of his narrow bunk, sweat pooling between your breasts and at the nape of your neck. It takes you a moment to gather your bearings and take in the steaming beast of a man, heavy muscle and a solid chest pressed into your back. Din’s nose nuzzles into your hair as he breathes deep and steady. The bunk is so narrow, and he is so broad, half draped on top of you, and you’re being smothered by his heat and weight.

“Din,” muffled, sleep graveled voice, “Heavy.” He doesn’t answer – dead to the world after everything the two of you had been through. The two of you’d crawled into the cool darkness of his bunk and promptly lost consciousness after the emotional ordeal of everything you’d talked about, but now you are hot and aching, and as you try and shift and wiggle, murmuring supplications to rouse him he huffs in his sleep, disturbed at your wriggling, and that unyielding arm of muscle presses you deeper into his chest, constricting your ribs, at the same time that his overly large shirt he’d put you in shifts up to reveal your naked bottom half, and his hips shift up to press his hard, seeking cock to the wet seam of your cunt. His hips rock into you, rolling you further onto your belly, and he growls a sleepy sound deep in his chest that you’re sure would translate to sleep, little one, were he conscious. He keeps trying to push in, frustrated grumbles when he meets only soft thigh instead of the warm cunt his dreams expect.

You can feel them on the periphery of your conscious mind, he’s dreaming of you, of your wet pussy, and the feeling of your slippery walls clenching around him. And you’ve no other choice but to give in, pulling a knee up to your chest you sense him step into this side of consciousness, and then he’s fucking in deep, meeting the end of you and grinding his hips against your ass with a low, hoarse groan. “Fuck, I was dreaming of this.”

“I know,” you whisper, pressing your bottom to his pelvis and trying to tilt forward as far as the bunk allows to deepen the angle, but he pulls you back tight to his chest and lifts your leg to drape back over his hip. His hands snake up the bottom of his shirt you’re wearing to palm your tits and pinch your nipples, rolling the aching peaks between his rough fingers and mouthing at the sweaty skin of your neck.

“You’re sore and exhausted, little one. I told you no more,” he admonishes but doesn’t stop the rhythm of his thrusting hips, rolling up into your slick cunt over and over.

“I don’t care. I don’t care if I hurt.” And part of you regrets it as soon as the words leave your mouth, painfully honest, humiliating, but the larger part of you is only desperate and aching for him to fuck into you, writhing wet and wanton on his cock.

“But I do. That’s all I care about.” He pushes inside again anyway though – the need too great, again and again until the two of you are trembling with orgasm together, wet and shaky and intimate.

The next bounty finds itself on the planet of Kashyyyk and the Razor Crest makes planet-fall a few hours after the two of you finally stumble out of the warm cocoon of his bunk.

You make tremendous fun of him and his ridiculously beloved ship, you can’t help it with a snickered, A Razor Crest? Really? Has the Guild been skimping out on you? To which you’re met with nothing but stony silence and then again, This hunk of junk is going to leave you stranded out in open space one day, I’m surprised it even still has the capacity to travel at– and then him spinning to pinch your cheeks between his fingers, forcing your mouth into a pucker, he gives your head a little shake. “One more bad word about my ship, and I’ll put this smart mouth to better use, do you hear me?” He’d forced your head into a little nod, but you’d rolled your eyes, snorting at him, as if you wouldn’t enjoy that. He’d harrumphed and turned to climb up into the cockpit after that while you’d washed the sweat and come of your nap from your body in the little fresher, the sound of him whispering his name to you ringing in your ears.

“When do you think you’ll be back?” You pout up at him, spread out on your nest on the floor of the hull that’s become a permanent monument, your still damp, trembling, just fucked form covered only by a thin blanket. It’d been hours since the two of you’d touched down on Kashyyyk, and you knew he probably should’ve been gone ages ago, out hunting his bounty, but he’d not been able to pull himself from your soft wet clutch. He was grumpy now and insisting he had to go even though you desperately did not want him to.

“It won’t be long – maybe two days, three at the most.” He’s re-donning the armor he hasn’t worn in days, slowly and meticulously adorning himself with each piece of beskar.

“Alright…” you sigh, stretching out into lithe, soft lines, your hands above your head so that the blanket covering your chest inches down to expose one soft nipple to his gaze. He pauses deathly still to watch your display, and you spread your knees beneath the cover with a breathy, little moan. “I guess I’ll see you in three days… I’ll just be here.” You look up at him with the most guilelessly innocent eyes you can muster. One of his boots sneaks forward to toe the blanket away from you: He can see your little cunt, wet and gleaming, the reddened swell of recent use, and when you spread those soft, gorgeous thighs a little further apart there he is. The slow drool of his spend from your pussy. Fuck, that bounty is never getting brought in.

Squeezing your eyes shut, turning to hide your face in the bend of your arm — you need to be more careful about that, don’t know why it keeps happening. You listen to the clang of one of his pauldrons dropping to the floor.

“What are you going to do while I’m gone?” His voice has taken on that deeper tone he falls into right before he’s about to sink inside of you.

Shit, shit shit, this is too much. Too desperate.

You spread your legs wider, slowly pulling one knee up to your chest, and gently running your fingertips up the sensitive inside of your thighs until you reach your messy center. Swollen and overwrought from his ferocity, and you don’t care, you still want more. You flutter your fingers over the wet mess, circle your clit and pass over your clenching opening.

“Think about you of course,” you moan, and listen to a restrained growl from him, the fall of another piece of his armor and then the soft shuck of his shirt falling as well.

“I can see myself drooling from that sloppy little hole,” he murmurs, now the crash of the helmet, you squeeze your eyes shut tight, “Push it back in. Fuck yourself.” He falls to his knees between your spread legs.

It is hours later before he finally manages to make it outside.

On the fourth day without him, you begin to stir with restlessness.

He’d promised three at the most, and you’d wanted to say that three days was an unbearably long time to be away from him. Yes, even this soon – weak hearted little wench, you’d griped at yourself. But you’d been cast in an unbearable silly wash of shyness, going hot and vulnerable from head to toe when the moment finally came that he’d dallied just too long, and he absolutely had to go now, really, I do have to go, the bounty isn’t going to catch itself, and we’re soon to be out of credits. As if you couldn’t just steal or trick your way into more credits if absolutely need be, but he’d hear nothing of such petty thievery. So you’d kept your pouting to yourself, and let him go.

He was a day late now, and you knew it was silly to worry about him.

He was a kriffing Mandalorian. He didn’t need you clucking over him like some worried mother tip-yip, but you couldn’t help it. You knew, even with as little experience with him as you have, that when he said he’d do something he did it. So you were beginning to stir with a frenzied and restlessly anxious energy, thinking of all the potential possibilities of harm he could have come to. Could Wookies chew through beskar? You didn’t know, but it seemed highly probable with the sort of Maker blasted luck you’d been cursed with that he’d randomly get eaten by a Wookie or some other beast on this fucking jungle planet and leave you stranded and without him.

You step off the Crest’s ramp late in the afternoon. Clad in only a pair of soft, worn leggings and your breast band, saber hilt in hand, thinking that perhaps a spot of training would help dispel your anxiety over him, but when you make it outside the weather is so lovely, warm and temperate, and you can’t help flop down into the soft grass of the field he’d landed the ship in to take in the heat of the sun.

The sky has been different every morning, but it’s almost pearlescent today, watery gray shot with silver white that coalesces into a sort of soft hued lavender. The planet’s single star, soft behind the protection of the clouds, has you going lazy and lethargic as it fights to push its way through. You think that perhaps, the training is unnecessary then, if the sun’s able to soothe you into peace for a few moments, and you cross your arms behind your head to lay back and close your eyes to the sky, feeling the warmth of it seeping through the thin membrane of your lids.

The two of you had both gone a little shy and awkward as he’d gotten ready to finally go four days ago. While he’d gotten dressed, arming himself to the teeth, you’d felt his eyes on you as you lay wet and trembling where he’d left you, and you were sure he could read how much you did not want him to go. You’d so desperately wanted him to bid you farewell with a kiss, to tell you he’d be back to you soon, but he’d done none of those things. Had gone quiet and awkward and given you a sharp nod of his head before he was spinning on his heel, cape snapping behind him and throwing himself out into Kashyyyk’s wilderness for his bounty. Why the fuck anyone would choose the Wookie homeworld as a place to hide was beyond you. You think you’d much prefer being caught by the tin can than eaten by one of those overgrown hairballs, but what do you know.

Well, actually – no, you’re certain you preferred being caught by him.

I like to be caught.

By me.

By you.

So all you had to do now was sit here and stew with your own thoughts. You wonder if maybe you should plan for what your next move will be after you leave him – but your mind immediately shies away from the possibility of that. No, you think, you’ll consider that later, in a few days, a few weeks, whenever he finally gets sick of you, which you know will happen sooner rather than later. But despite your recalcitrance to consider the timeline of when this will end, there is no part of you that doesn’t know how this will end. In ruination, surely, come by your hand, him angry or hating you. You just hope you can hold off on your inevitable destruction for a while longer, for you so enjoy being with him.

If you’re being modest and not entirely honest with what you feel, then, yes, you enjoy being here with him, enjoyment verging on something much deeper, more intense. The warmth and comfort you’d found in his ship, even if it was a hunk of junk Razor Crest, being with him, fucking him, having him take care of you, you like this.

And it is not so much a realization, but a reminder that you’d been unsatisfied with your life thus far. Again, if you were being modest and not entirely honest, then sure, you could call it dissatisfaction. Dissatisfaction with what you are, what you had been, and you’re angry too. Angry at the things that were done to you, the things you’d endured. You did not deserve to have been treated so. You had not deserved such cruelty, and perhaps, this time here with the Mandalorian, with Din, could be taken as a recompense of sorts. A lovely and wholly unexpected prize, a gift, after all you had endured. You could take this time with him with a grain of salt, a seed of wariness, and try and keep yourself as internally stoic as possible, entirely plausible, sure, and then when the time was right you could part ways and take your losses for what they were. For as good as you are at lying to yourself, you are self aware enough to know that at the end of this it will be a loss, he will be a loss. A worry for a later time, though, you suppose.

You settle back on your bent arms.

Dissatisfaction with life… you laugh lightly to yourself. What a silly thing. You’re alive, you’re free. That’s more than enough to be satisfied with.

But at the same time, you can’t help but wonder at what it is to be a God and a slave all at once? You feel you know both sides of the coin so well – both sides of yourself. And you find yourself dissatisfied and angry at the intimacy of the knowledge you hold. You wish you could wash your hands of both facets of yourself and begin anew.

You wonder if perhaps he could provide the answer to the start of that question.

“What are you doing?” His voice comes, what could be hours or minutes later, and you feel a soft, lazy smile spread across your face. Finally, finally, he’s back, he’s back.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you murmur up at him. You think you must have dozed off.

“You shouldn’t be out here in the open – it’s dangerous.” You give a derisive little snort of self assured laughter at that. Dangerous, ha ha, yeah, sure. “Where are your clothes?” So grouchy.

“I’m wearing them, shiny.” You’ve still not opened your eyes, and you listen to the sound of his long suffering sigh, big smile stretched across your face now.

“Little one–” Your eyes finally blink open to take in the sight of him after four long days – he looms above you, extraordinary and singular, like some warrior of old – a knight or some other silver burning effigy, standing as the face of all that is good and valiant and true. Your pathetic little heart gives a sickly sweet flutter inside your chest. The two of you stare at each other silent and still, caught in each other’s gazes – it’s been four days, four agonizing, interminable days and you’d missed him. You’d traveled with him for such a short time, and already you found yourself in the painful business of missing him.

He’s got one inescapable hand clamped around the bounty’s arm, an unfortunate Mythrol, whose head whips back and forth between the two of you. “Aww, there’s no way – No way, man. Is this your girlfriend, Mando?!” The Mythrol practically howls. “There is absolutely no way this hunk of metal got you to bang him.”

“Shut the fuck up. Do not speak to her,” Din’s head snaps away from you to shake the creature roughly, shoving him forward. But the comically unintelligent bounty fails to read the Mandalorian’s angry countenance and digs his heels in.

“I’d decided on a spot of training, but then I got tired and lazy and hot, and now I am resting. I’m sure you’ve heard of it before–” bratty drawl to answer his earlier question.

“The galaxy really does show you new wonders every single day,” the Mythrol goes on unheeded, looking down at you with moon eyes, and you snicker. “Tell me, gorgeous, is his junk at least normal looking? He’s not like … green or something under there is he? Scales? Any strange orifices?”

“You’re literally blue,” Din deadpans.

“Blue is a perfectly respectable color to be.”

“Well, I haven’t gotten a good look at all his orifices yet, but I’ll let you know once I do,” you say coyly, looking up at Din and batting your eyelashes at him.

“You have fucking gills–” and he sounds so comically offended, you can’t help but break out into hysterical giggles.

“Listen, if he isn’t doing it for you, trust me, I'm getting out of this real soon. I’ll surely take care of you if h–” And then Din’s huge, balled up fist snaps out to punch the poor bounty in the face, dragging him off towards the Razor Crest, and muttering under his breath about brats and no respect and piece of bantha shit bounties. You make sure your laugh follows him all the way into the hull while you lay your head back on your crossed arms and continue enjoying the warm sun on your face and exposed belly.

“You’re fucking naked,” he growls a few minutes later, hovering over you menacingly, very aggravatingly blocking out your warm sun.

You open your eyes to look up at him, shading yourself from the glare shining off the curve of his helmet. He’s rid himself of his armor and duraweave and remains only in his flight pants, long sleeved undershirt and helmet, the expanse of his thick neck left naked without his cowl so that you can admire all of that gorgeously tanned skin. “Mandalorian, you’re in your underthings! How scandalous.” He’s got his beskar spear gripped in one hand, and you eye it dubiously.

“You’re naked,” again, cold and clipped.

“So are you.” Maker, just the stance on him is full of sass, hands on his hips, one foot propped out like he’s about to start tapping it at you, on the verge of shaking his finger at the ornery little girl.

“Shut up, brat. And get up.”

“I think I won’t, actually.” You lay back on your crossed arms and close your eyes again, but he knocks the edge of his boot against your bare ankle, right at the prominence of bone on the side so that you’re yelping unexpectedly and folding your knee up towards your chest to get away from him. “Mean man,” you frown up at him accusingly.

“Get up. I want to see what you can do – let’s spar.”

The laughing smile you have plastered across your face goes wan and melts away. “You want to do what now?”

“You said you were training – I want to see what you can do.”

“Well, I don’t want to show you.”

“My mistake, it wasn’t meant to be a request. Get your little ass up.”

“Exactly – I’m too little. I can’t spar with you.” You look up at him with big, pleading eyes, pouting at him.

“Yes, you can. Get up.”

“I don’t want to spar with you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” And he laughs. He laughs, as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard in his entire life. You scowl at him, bristling with indignation.

“You could never–” You take his legs out from under him with a single crook of your finger so that he’s hitting the ground with a jarring thud, knocking the breath from his lungs unexpectedly. You get to your feet, pinning him there lightly, but so that he’s not able to move even a millimeter.

“You were saying?” Silence. “Do not mistake me for something I’m not,” you say slowly. “I could hurt you. Easily. I could kill you easily. I have to be conscious of myself and you and all the things around me every day so that I don’t unwittingly cause harm.”

More silence from him, and you panic for a second that you’ve actually gone and accidentally killed him. You fall to your knees at his side, letting go of your hold over him, and he stays still and unmoving, but then says, “I know. I know what you are. I also know that you would never hurt me. Even accidentally. You’d never let yourself.”

“Din,” you whisper, letting your forehead fall to his belly. He brings a hand up to cup the bowl of your skull and softly strokes your hair. He can’t know that. He doesn’t know you well enough to know that, and yet…

“Spar with me. It’ll be fun.”

You groan, rolling your forehead against his stomach in feigned denial. “Fine, you have a fucked up idea of fun, and when I whoop your ass you’re not allowed to be angry with me.” You move to stand, clasping his hand in yours to pull him up with you.

He slaps your bottom when he gets to his feet, squeezes just a little bit, “Brat.”

“You are not allowed to grope me when you’re making me do things I don’t want to do,” you say indignantly, turning your nose up at him, “And I want to make this interesting.” You move a few paces away from him, and then spin on the ball of your bare foot back towards him, igniting your saber on the come around. “Let’s switch weapons,” you say with a conniving little smirk.

“You want me to use your lightsaber?”

“Scared?”

“Fuck off, and give it here.” Oh, he’s funny when he’s grouchy.

You disengage the plasma beam and toss him the crossguard at the same time that he sends his spear your way. You catch it easily and give it an experimental twirl in your hands – it’s light, nicely balanced, and you give it a figure eight twist in front of you, once, twice, “Not as fancy – but I suppose it’ll do.” You take position, flexing up once on your toes to feel the tight stretch of your calves, a fizzy flutter of excitement in your belly. He’s right, you would never hurt him. A small, terrifying part of you even whispers that you think you’d do harm to yourself before you could ever even think of hurting him.

You can feel a deep hum of satisfaction coming off of him at the sight of you wielding one of his weapons, and he pauses for a beat, admiring you, and then ignites the saber, spinning the blade once in his hand, and then moving towards you on the defensive immediately, without thought. “No powers – just us,” he says, and he brings your lightsaber up above his head, the frame of his heavily muscled arms almost distracting you for a second, and then down upon you with all of his considerable strength. Fast as light, and he’s fucking strong so you feel the reverberation of the weapons meeting in your teeth with how powerful his strike is.

“Maker– I didn’t think you were going to be a dick about this.”

“That was your mistake.”

“Oh, you suck,”

“Not quite. But you will be later, trust me.”

“Did you just make a dirty joke?! I didn’t know you were allowed to do that,” you gasp. “This is not the way, Mandalorian,” you intone in a deep voice, imitating his baritone.

You disengage from his lock and spin away from him, twirling the spear above your head in a quick little flourish, hair fanning out around you, and then bringing it down upon him again. He’s fast and strong, but you’re small and sneaky, easily distracting. Your footwork has always been your greatest strength, like a dance and a game and a duel all at once. He parries your blow and steps to the side trying to evade you by going around. You take a light hop further away from him, and then pirouette back again, fast as you can, ready to strike once more, but he’s already there waiting, leaning heavily into your space so that the plasma blade flashes violet and angry, buzzing right up against your face. You feel the heat radiating off of it on your eyelids, and a bead of sweat slides down your temple.

“You’re not getting laid for a week,” you grit through clenched teeth, blowing a fallen piece of fringe out of your eyes.

“Oh, you’re getting fucked as soon as this is over.” He shoves you back with all his strength, and you stumble over your own feet, giving an outraged little screech as you go ass over tits, and your bottom meets the hard ground. He circles your fallen form, “Get up. I'm not done with you yet, little one.”

Jerk. You spring back up onto the balls of your feet and meet him in a parry of blindingly quick strikes, one after the other after the other. He matches them all without even seeming to strain himself. Your strength is nothing compared to his, and for a second you feel a flash of anger, a memory of being weaker and smaller than everyone around you. He’s not even trying. You growl and spin again, going low, trying to get his legs, but he meets your blow, and then brings one of his hands up to shove you away by the shoulder. He’s never even wielded a fucking lightsaber before and this is how he does – you catch yourself with a supportive tendril of the Force on that one, and bare your teeth at him.

“You’re stronger than me – this isn’t fair,” you pant.

“You know that isn’t true.” He strikes again, and you block it, barely. “But if it were, you’re tiny. Most people are going to be stronger than you. Tough shit – you can’t always rely on your tricks.”

“My tricks–” Fuck you. You jerk away from him, gasping for breath, sweating, angry at his words and full of reckless defiance. But you take a deep, calming breath and give him a small smile. “Oh, no?” you croon, and lunge at him again at the same time that you snake a ribbon of Force around his striking arm to pull the limb backwards, rendering it motionless and him without protection. He brings his other arm up to block your presumed blow, but you pull the saber from his grasp with your mind instead and knock the side of his spear against the curve of his helmet, loud clang echoing at the same time that you bring one small, bare foot up to the center of his belly and shove him back, sending him sprawling to the ground. How’s that for a trick? “Life isn’t fair, shiny. I'm going to use all the tricks in my book until I'm dead – and even after that, I still might find a way.” You stand over him looking down at the impenetrable dark of his visor. You crook your eyebrow at him, a little shrug of one shoulder, and oh, he’s fucking pissed, you can feel it rolling off of him.

“I said no powers,” and grunts when you place a small foot on his belly, a conqueror over your felled opponent.

“Oops.” You see the strain of his arms trying to fight against your restraints, biceps bulging and bunching, and he growls like an animal, like someone about to teach you a particularly savage lesson. You remove your foot from him and take a few, slow steps back from him. Retreating from the beast you’ve just purposefully enraged. “Now, now,” you try, “We were just messing around–” a nervous, hiccuping laugh.

You let him go, and he moves to his feet, long legs unfolding almost in slow motion. “You better fucking run, little girl. You do not want me to get my hands on you right now,” he says slowly.

You don’t need to be told twice, without a second thought you’re throwing both weapons to the ground and spinning on your heel, sprinting away as fast as you possibly can on bare feet. You’re pretty sure he even gives you a few seconds head start before he’s shooting after you. You can hear the pounding sound of his heavy strides over the hard ground, and you pump your arms and legs as fast as you can, making for the tree line far ahead, but there are rocks and small bric-a-brac hidden in the underbrush, and your pace falters, heart thumping painfully fast within the cage of your chest. There's a fine sheen of sweat covering your whole body, and right before his chest makes harsh contact with your back you have the thought that being caught by him is one of the greatest pleasures you’ve ever experienced in your entire life.

He slams into your back and takes you to the ground, his hand coming up to protect your face, his other arm banding tightly around your waist seeming to press all of the air from your lungs.

“Should’ve run faster.”

“Maybe I wanted to be caught,” you gasp.

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” You feel him lever himself up above you, and then he’s ripping down your leggings and underwear, the sound of seams popping at the ferocity of his movements, “You want to be my little whore? Want me to fuck you right here under the open sky for the entire galaxy and the Maker to see how I own this cunt?” And lands a stinging, sharp slap to your ass. He grips the meat of your cheek and spreads you wide for his inspection, you feel the probe of his thumb at the tight furl of your ass, then lower to your folds, your leaking entrance, your swollen clit. “Look at you, fucking soaked already, shit. You like being hunted and caught, little one?”

“Only by you,” you moan into the dirt, an echo of your past words to each other, your cheek squished against the grass, you watch the panting huffs of your breath disturb the blades and let him do with you what he will. He’s caught his bounty, he should enjoy the fruits of his spoils now. He presses his thumb inside, sliding it in and out of you slowly, and then unexpectedly slaps you again and you mewl, twisting the soft green blades between your shaking fingers, trying to find purchase, an anchoring, anything to steady your racing heart. You listen to the rustle of his clothes as he frees his cock and finally, finally, you can hear the change in his breath as he takes hold of his hard length. Make me so fucking hard, you hear him mutter. He reaches for your twisted hands then, pulling them behind you, “Hand here, and here–” he sets each palm on either of your cheeks, “Show me that little asshole. I want to see it.” Nasty man, and like the good girl you’re trying to pretend to be, you obey and pull yourself apart for him, presenting all you have to offer, hips lifted in a desperate little arc for him to fuck into you. He presses the wide head of his cock to your fluttering cunt, and starts to push in, stretching you painfully without having made you come before – it hurts to take him like this. Caught and fucked into the dirt, and he pushes in until he’s rooted to the hilt, heavy sac pressed tightly against your backside, and you love it. His strong thighs bracket your own, restrained in your partially shoved down leggings, making the fit all the more snug when he wedges that thick cock inside of you. “Fuck, yes,” he growls and sets a punishing pace. Slamming his hips so hard into your ass you can feel the rebound of your soft flesh in your hands, still holding yourself open, drooling and sobbing into the grass, hair a fallen mess, sticking to the wetness of your tears and spit on your cheeks. He angles his hips down and hammers into your g-spot. Fucking made for me, perfect little cunt, so pretty, you can hear him muttering hoarsely through the modulator behind you over the wet, sucking slide of his cock. He sets a brutal pace that has you going almost cross-eyed, weak little huffs of breath being fucked out of you on every push in so that you can’t even make a sound of pleasure or pain or anything. All you can do is take it.

He moans an almost agonized sound, feels so fucking good – and oh, it’s too much, the punishing pace, the sound of his pleasure, the painful stretch of his thick cock inside of you, hitting against that ravenous little place, the feel of his desire for you pushing up against the periphery of your mind – he is devastating and life changing, world altering inside of you, and, “Din, Din, please – I’m going to come,” you hitch and cry.

And he pulls out. Suddenly, painfully, he rips his sliding cock from the wet, fluttering clutch of your pussy on the verge of orgasm, dripping cock smearing wetly against the curve of your ass. “No,” he sits back on his haunches and turns you over roughly, your bare arms and back chafing against the grass and dirt. “Who said you had permission to come?” He rips your leggings down one leg to get at your sex and spreads your thighs wide, right here in the middle of the open field, and then hooks his fingers under your breast band at the space between your tits to pull you up into a sitting position. “Grab my cock,” he orders. “Bad girls don’t get to come.” You wrap your slim fingers around the swollen, slick length of him and start to slide your hand up and down, squeezing to the very root and then back up to the drooling head, ending in a little twist. You look up at the visage of his helmet, if his gaze had a physical manifestation it’d be all over your skin, licking and kissing and sucking. He pushes your breast band down to free the heavy, aching weights of your tits and squeezes them hard so that you’re moaning up at him softly, legs spread around his kneeling form, bare, pulsing cunt leaking into the grass beneath. You can see the skin of his neck where his stubble fades to tan sweaty skin beneath the edge of his helmet, and your teeth ache to bite there. You want to see what sort of sound he’d make if you bit hard enough to draw blood…

He twists your nipples between his fingers, and then switches to softer, soothing passes around your areolas, lifting each breast high to squeeze and then letting them fall to hang and sway heavily. “Too fucking beautiful for your own good,” he says in a low whisper, as if only for himself. Your other hand moves to cup the hanging weight of his balls and you massage them gently, and then twist a little, applying more pressure, eliciting a soft whimper from him. “No,” he grunts suddenly, pressing you belly back into the hard ground, pinning you there despite a whine and dolling out a quick, stinging slap to your spread sex. You cry out, trying to toe him away with one small foot lifted to his shoulder, escape his unforgiving hands, but he digs his fingers into the softness of your thighs and pulls you back towards him, gripping the base of his cock to feed it back into you. “This is your punishment, stop distracting me.”

He lifts up the hem of his shirt, tucking it beneath his lowered chin so that he can fuck you unobstructed. He hooks his fingers under the fabric of your breast band around your waist and uses it as leverage to pull you onto his impaling cock, fucking up into your cervix painfully, sending you right to the edge of orgasm once again. The sight of his exposed abdomen shifting under the sunlight, sweat sliding down from his chest to the hair trailing from his navel, lower to the thick root of his cock, neatly trimmed, mouth watering – it has your already overwrought cunt pulsing and aching and drooling, clenching down painfully around him. “You are not allowed to come. If you do, I'm going to make it so much worse for you, do you understand me?”

“No, please. Please, Din. I’ll be good. I promise, I’ll be good,” you cry, deepening the arch of your back to open yourself further to him, to feel the jolt of his cock more intensely within you.

“Too late.” His thrusts speed up, sloppy and unsynchronized, and he growls low in his throat beneath the helmet as he rips himself from you once again and takes his soaked length in hand, fucking his fist furiously until he comes over the gaping slit of your sex, covering your pusling cunt in the searing heat of his milky spend, spurting thickly onto the slope of your belly and your heaving tits. You let out an agonized sob, throwing your arms over your face to hide the sight of your tears from him. Your womb twists painfully, low in your pelvis, the echoes of his brutal fucking still felt in the unsatisfied frenzied fluttering of your muscles. “Bad girls don’t get filled up either.” He gives his slick length one final squeeze, twisting his fist viciously at the angry, red tip to milk out the last final drops of his come. You watch his fist, gripped around himself so tightly, beneath the hood of your wet lashes and crossed arms, and think it must surely hurt him, such a punishing hold on himself – but you also think that, like you, he enjoys a little pain with his pleasure. Or a lot… depending on the day.

He drops his wet hand to your pulsing sex, smearing the thick viscosity of his semen into your painfully sensitive skin, and then slaps it again and again and again. Three stinging slaps in a row that has you twisting away, trying to escape him. “I want to eat your cunt,” and his voice is nothing but a gasp, “It’s so fucking red and swollen – and it gapes when I slap it.” He hits you again, presses a hand low on your belly to keep you in place and incite the coiled ball of unreleased arousal sitting inside of you, all at once.

He leans forward, holding himself up over you on one strong arm and grips your jaw tightly, his hand wet and sticky with his come and your own slick, and squeezes your cheeks together, forcing your mouth into a pout and giving your head a little jostle, his hold on you, so tight, you feel the imprinted shape of your teeth on the inside of your cheeks. “What if someone saw you like this, being fucked full of cock? What would you do?” His hand leaves your face to press two thick fingers inside of your poor, abused pussy.

“Please, no more–” you whisper, you can’t take anymore.

“Quit. As much as I say – it’s mine. Isn’t it? It belongs to me.” You have to nod, you have no other choice, you must tell the truth right now, and then answering his first question: “Nothing. I don't care. What would you do?” And despite your protestations, you wrap both your hands around his thick wrist to leverage yourself against him and begin to ride his hand, fucking yourself on his fingers crooked inside of you.

“Kill them. You’re only mine to see like this– fucking mine,” but he pulls his fingers from you, again. You give a little undignified screech, feeling the overwhelming sensation of your opening clenching hungrily around nothing, and he sits back on his haunches again, taking himself away from you, and tucks his still wet, still semi-hard cock back behind the plaque of his trousers. He takes several deep breaths, the wings of his rib cage expanding so wide on the exhale you worry for a second he’d take flight, escape you, go somewhere where you could not reach him.

“You’re so mean,” you mewl up at him, tears streaming across your cheeks and backwards, down your temples into your hair – making your already sweat damp hairline even wetter. Your whole body feels wet and trembling and raw. You move to press your knees closed, but he grips you around the ankle still wearing your leggings and pulls them off of you entirely.

“I know,” he says, “Poor, little girl,” cooed at you, a little mean, a little condescending, his voice so soft and smokey and deep. “Perhaps, this’ll teach you what happens to bad girls who don’t follow the rules.” He pulls you by the wrist to sit up and curls to press his shoulder into the soft of your belly, unfolding from the ground all the way to standing, with the entirety of your weight slung over his shoulder, just by the pure strength of him. He turns back towards the ship and slaps your ass as he walks, right at the apex of your thighs so that you feel the rebound of it in your cunt. Tears drip down your upside down face while your arms hang limply down towards the ground, your head bobbing along limply with his gait, wild, loose hair swinging, entirely overwhelmed and conquered – just like he’d wanted you.

And after everything, even without an orgasm, it’s really not so bad.

He hauls your ass back to the ship without even seeming to lose his breath, carrying your weight easily over his shoulder. He’s so strong, and it makes you even wetter for him, if possible. Making his way up the ramp, he hits the button to disengage and shut it behind the two of you once you’re inside, and deposits your limp, trembling form onto your nest of blankets. A murmured: “I’m going to get us in the air,” and then he’s climbing up into the cockpit. You think you must fall asleep or go so delirious from the cramping deep in your belly that you lose consciousness for what seems like seconds or possibly hours later he’s back and spreading your legs again, you mumble something incoherently that sounds like his name or a plea for mercy or his cock, and then his unmodulated voice sounds, “Don’t open your eyes, little one.” You think you nod your head or give some sort of a reply of confirmation, but you can’t be sure. Your body feels so far removed from you, sun drunk and cock drunk and Din drunk. He shoves the breadth of his wide, naked shoulders between your thighs and hooks both thumbs at your soft outer lips to spread you wide and spits directly onto your swollen clit and blushed, fluttering hole. You moan and writhe, bringing your hands up to your face to dig the heels of your palms harshly into your sockets, sliding the tips of your fingers through your hairline to pull at the strands. He starts off light, whisper soft, the tip of his tongue tracing figure eights over your clit, and then further down to flutter lightly at the mouth of your cunt. You’re sex is drenched in his own come, and he doesn’t seem to give a single fuck, tasting himself on your own skin and groaning at your combined flavors. He moves back up to your clit and sucks it into his mouth hard. Your back arches in an almost painful bend, bringing your knees up as far back as you can to your shoulders, hands hooked beneath the sweaty bend of your joints to hold yourself open for him.

“Are you going to be bad again?” he murmurs into your cunt.

“Yes–” irrationally, recklessly defiant.

“Good. I’d expect nothing less.” He licks a long, wet swipe through your slit, further down to taste your ass, his tongue applying pressure to the sensitive rosebud, then back up to your pussy, licking into you with the strong muscle of his tongue. You can feel him rutting into the blanketed floor.

“Are you hard again already?” voice ragged, you want to know, you want it in your mouth.

“Fuck yes, I’m hard. I’m always hard for you. Most perfect little cunt in the entire galaxy,” and he literally slurps at your folds, wet and lewd and entirely obscene. You writhe on the blankets, one foot pressed to the thick mass of his muscular shoulder trying to push him away and rock yourself against his face all at the same time. He moves to kneel over you and grips your other leg open under the bend of your knee. “Never want you to fucking behave,” he presses two thick fingers inside of you, hooked against that spongey spot at the front of your cunt, thumb on your clit, and sets a quick fire pace, tugging your orgasm forward, jostling his fingers inside of you. “Means I get to do this to you as many times as I want,” he grits. “Get this fucking cunt wet for me, little girl.” He shoves a third finger inside of you, hooks his fingers against your g-spot again and presses down on your lower belly with his other hand, and rubs fast and hard inside of you. You whine high pitched, an animal sound, writhing in the nest of blankets, twisting them in your hands to press your face to them. He quickens his pace, his whole hand shaking within you, and then wrenches it from your cunt and you feel yourself gush onto the waiting blankets and his spread thighs.

He moans a savage sound, “Yes, yes – fucking again,” and he pushes those three fingers back into your gaping hole, the palm on your belly giving a slow soothing circular stroke to settle you, and you think you must surely want to beg for no more, please, no more, but you cannot. He pauses for a second, and you listen to the sound of his heavy panting breaths over the sound of your own echoing heart in your ears. His palm is so big and warm on your abdomen, and it soothes you for a second, your limbs full of fired lightning. He pets softly at your g-spot, and then quakes his hand again, palm on your belly pushing down to apply pressure from the outside. It feels like there’s plasma melting down your spine, and your vision behind your closed lids bends and flashes blinding white. Again, it’s going to happen again – he rips his hand from you, and you gush once again, soaking wet. Yes, yes, yes, he’s chanting, sounding half delirious, nonsensical, and then his mouth is at your cunt again, drinking up all the slick wetness you’ve just made for him.

Mine, all mine, look at all this – made it all for me, didn’t you, gorgeous thing.

He laps at you gently until he’s gotten all of it, every last drop of your come and slick and sweat. Your entire frame shakes and jolts with aftershocks, trembling and sweating and crying. Heart beating an overwhelmed symphony within your chest to the tune of his name. This is not like anything else, you think. This is something to venerate and fear equally, you think. You feel afraid. He mouths gently at the raw skin of your inner thighs, pressing slow kisses to your mound, up the slope of your belly, over the trembling hills of your breasts, up finally all the way to your mouth where he licks into you wet and hot. There’s a desperately hungry energy to him, ready to shove into your cunt and fuck you again. You feel the drooling tip of his heavily hanging cock bob against your belly, and he makes a soft sound, low in his throat, but pulls back, humming contemplatively.

“Let’s take a shower,” he murmurs between kisses, “You’re filthy,” the soft sound of his self satisfied huff of laughter. He presses one last kiss to your mouth then gets to his feet with a soft groan, the hollow sounding pop of his knees, and you listen to him move into the fresher, starting the water and shuffling about. You’re beyond words, vaguely painful aftershocks seizing your throat and muscles, and you can’t open your eyes, you won’t. He’s walking around with so much trust, moving about the hull into the softly lit fresher helmetless and entirely vulnerable. He trusts you, and you don’t think you’ve ever been able to say that, ever been able to claim the trust of another person. Never. You need to protect this at all costs, guard it fiercely and nurture it as you would a fragile and delicate sapling.

He returns to your side after a moment, wrapping his hands around you. Your limbs have been rendered limp and useless, entirely pliable for his strong hands to pull you up into his embrace, and you feel like water in his arms as he carries you into the warm spray of the fresher, submerged in his touch and his smell, your mind murky and floating with your eyes still closed. He shuts off the lights as he passes, sinking the two of you into a deep darkness once again and sets you on your feet, shaky, weak knees knocking together, coltish and frail.

The spray of the water is warm and sets about a cloud of humidity around the two of you. You reach up to twist your arms around his strong neck, fingers twisting in the damp curls at the nape of his neck, and his roving hands slide along your limbs and curves, water slick and lust frenzied, but still slow, categorizing, exploring. He feels you, grips your soft flesh in his big hands, the rough calluses on his palms catching at your sensitive skin, his fingers pressing along your arms, gripping the joints of your elbows between his fingers, up to your wrists clasped behind his neck. He brings one hand down to his face to press a long kiss to the center of your palm, then presses your splayed palm to his cheek, nuzzles against you like an overly large cat. “I love how this feels,” he whispers low. You think you must have lost your voice, spit it out in the field where he’d fucked you and left it there, forgotten, but you press your face up into the warm spot beneath his jaw, mouthing slowly there at his burning hot skin. He tastes like the sun, like earth and life and all the goodness you’d never before had the chance to taste, and you want to drink him down, take a bite and swallow him, let him settle down, deep and heavy in your belly where you’d keep him always. Your heart gives a heavy thump of fear, but then his other hand is there, sliding down the arch of your spine and gripping your ass to press you into the long line of his erection. “Are you ready for my cock again, little one?” And his words return your mind to the slow cramping, deep in your pelvis. The hungry clench of your cunt and the shivers zipping down the lines of your muscles.

Yes, please, you think you whisper, and you must, for he lifts one of your thighs, hooking it around his hip and bending his knees slightly to press the head of his cock to the slick mouth of your cunt, and then he’s surging up and sliding deep inside you, gripping your other thigh as he goes to lift you high up into his arms and settle himself deep into your belly, to what feels like the very end of you, knees hooked over the bends of his elbows. It feels like he presses all the way to the heart of you, your very heart, your very heart, he has it in his clutch. That heart you’d for so long feared had been taken from you, swallowed and destroyed. You moan softly into his open mouth and he swallows down your sounds, tastes the inside of your mouth with his tongue, grips and kneads all the soft contours that make you up – that softness that still makes up the hard creature that they’d tried to force you into. He feels it, takes it in his hands.

You run your hands along him as well. The hard lines of him to juxtapose your own softness. His broad shoulders, muscled and strong and endless, seemingly wide enough to hold up the weight of the galaxy. The thick bulge of his biceps, the strength of his chest, the flat expanse of his abdomen that gently turns to softness lower down. The thick root of his cock fucking up into you. You softly circle your hand there, feeling the slide of him thrusting into you, pressing into the swollen bud of your clit. You can feel your orgasm churning like molten ore in your pelvis, the base of your spine. You’re both scarred all over, mottled in the painful history of your individual pasts, and he has scars on his hands, covered in them, for some reason these hurt you more than any you’ve ever endured on your own body. Such strong, capable, gentle hands – you pull them to your mouth one by one and kiss each and every one of them.

He grips your ass to pull you onto his impaling cock harder, bends his knees to deepen the angle inside of you and you keen and mewl weakly for him, a supplication in the shape of his name, shared here in this warm darkness he’s pulled you into with him, and you think of the dark and of the opposition of light. Of being alone and together and here with him, afraid and protected and how the darkness had never seemed anything more than a cruel and suffocating mantle meant to only ever subjugate and enslave you, and how here, with him now, with him inside of you and held in his arms it feels like nothing more than protection. A safe place to cast away your fear. “Are you going to come for me, cyar’ika?” he murmurs into the lush of your breasts, sucking your nipple into his mouth and biting down gently.

Cyar’ika, Cyar’ika, Cyar’ika.

My good girl, taking me so well.

And no one had ever baptized you with a veneration such as that. No one had ever called to you in gentleness or care, and so you do. You come for him at the sound of it, at the feel of the wide head of his cock kissing your womb on every press inside, the grip of his hands, possessive and hard and gentle and coaxing and inescapable, all at the same time. It’s like he’s all the things in the world that a man could ever be, and you give him your pleasure, and he returns it in kind, filling you with the heat of his spend, coating your insides with himself. Sweet and full of heart, just like he’d said.

Chapter V

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Text

of beskar and kyber {chapter 13}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: Shadows and light play across your mind and feelings as you reveal more about your past to Din. Propositions made and discussions about what to do next as things back on Nevarro spiral as a result of Din's defiance of an organization he took part in for years prompt you both to evaluate everything you've become to each other.

Word Count: 12.6k (!!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, language, mentions of past trauma, mentions of past sa trauma (non-descriptive), anxiety, confessions, illusions to the pull of the force, allusions to past violent tendencies of both reader and din, brief mentions of death, allusions to order 66, reader has a lot on internal monologues in this one, nightmares, bad dreams, anxiety, outbursts, emotional turmoil, readers shares more of her violent past with din, sexual content, sexual intimacy, body worship, fingering, sexual themes, argumentative language

A/N: returning to this fic with a beast of a chapter that traverses so much. it's the longest one i've written yet and i am so excited to share it with y'all. i sincerely hope y'all like everything i poured into this. please let me know what you think?

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Water gently splashed against the side of the tub, bubbles sticking to the porcelain, small waves created by the movement of Din’s hand as it trailed down your navel. Fingers eliciting tingles of pleasure as they smoothed over soft skin slick with the oils added to the water not even a few moments ago. You gasped, head thudding back against his broad, bare shoulder as the tips of them brushed over course hair before slipping between your folds.

Your nails dug into the skin of his thighs, mindful of the healing wound there, his bronze knees bent up and cresting over the water, caging in your wriggling form nestled back into him. Your hips bucked as his fingertips ghosted over that exciting bundle of nerves to stroke down toward your fluttering entrance. Water sloshing at the sudden disturbance. He groaned, deep and gravely right into your ear, the helmet hiding little of his arousal as he carefully rubbed around it. You clenched, body feeling how close he was and needing to be satisfied.

His index finger hovered over you, a silent question and you whined out a needy sound. Not caring if it was desperate, your fingers gripped him tight, and you bucked your hips to get him closer. He circled your entrance, once, twice, three times. Pleasure rocked through you, a fire blooming to life in your core.

“Din, please,” You panted, unable to catch your breath between the heat of his body, the heat of the water and steam surrounding you both, the heat he was stoking in your very nerves. A hand shot out of the water and scrabbled at the back of his helmet; fingers slippery with bubbles.

His thick finger slid in easily, between the water and the slick that was surely tainting the water you were both partially submerged in. The hand he had curled around your middle was reaching up to cup a breast covered only in sweet, scented bubbles and you moaned. Low and guttural, the stretch so unlike anything you felt before. Almost sweet in a way that it had never felt before.

He crooked his finger, nudging it deeper inside and grazed against a soft spot that had white sparking across your vision. A keening whine sprouted from you, loud in the marbled room. He stilled for a second, reveling in the way you felt around him, clenching him tightly. There was no discomfort, with you feeling so completely safe and protected.

“That’s a good sound, mesh’la.” His raspy voice was close, the bottom of his helmet hooked over your shoulder. He carefully pumped his finger into you, trying to go slow in case it was a stretch that overwhelmed you. But you huffed as you moved against him, the palm of his wide palm rubbing at you in a way that stoked the fire licking at your nerves.

“M-more, please. Linibar or'atu, copad at aalar or'atu be gar.”

Need more, want to feel more of you.

Your words were a quiet plea on shaking breath, a heavy exhale as he gave you what you wanted, slipping a second finger in alongside the first on his next plunge into the silky, wet heat of your core.

Back arching, pressing you impossibly closer to him, feeling the hot line of him as it nudged at you from behind. You whined out as his fingers stilted and he flexed them, stretching you out to see what felt good, what lit you up even more. They crooked inside of you and brushed against something that had you crying out, that same spot from earlier, he rubbed at it deliberately. Stomach lurching, the flames that had been slowly smoldering sparked across the entire expanse of your body.

“Ha-ah, Din, gedet'ye vaabir ibac tug'yc!”

Please do that again!

Your hips bucked into his hand, urging him desperately as you felt a tightening form low in your stomach. He remained still save for the crooking of his fingers once more and you moved against him. The water licking up the sides of the tub at your rushed movements, bubbles inching higher up both your overheated bodies.

His fingertips hit that spot on each thrust as he pumped his fingers in a steady rhythm, arms muscles tensing as he wrapped himself around you completely. The fire crackled and you cried out as pleasure tingled all the way to the tips of your fingers, heart beating hard in your chest. Your vision was blanketed in white sparks, and you clenched them shut and tried to catch your breath. Din’s hand worked you through the aftershocks, his palm hot against your skin where it brushed against you.

“Clenched so tight around me, mesh’la.” He rumbled into your ear, his hand gently moving away from you. He rested it low on your stomach, taking in the way your muscles jumped underneath his touch as your fingers around the back of his helmet pulled him closer. Your lips pressed to the column of his neck, tongue darting out to taste the exposed skin there.

He moaned a guttural sound at the feel of you marking him for your own, the hot swipe of your tongue giving way to a gentle nip of teeth. You felt him twitch against your backside and you shimmied back to press against him, loving the velvet softness of the hot line he made against your skin.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” He said softly, despite the thrumming in his own body, the sinful sounds falling from your lips, because of him, for him, having worked him up.

“Need to touch you now, it’s your turn.” You slipped away from him with a hush of the water, turning in his grip. The tub was only so big and you nudged at his knees, still cresting up over the water’s surface to lay flat where your body had just been. You held tight to the curve of his shoulders, moving to straddle the width of his hips. You could hear the crackling of him sucking in a deep breath through the modulator as you settled over him, hovering.

“San…”

“I know I don’t have to, cyar’ika.” You leaned your naked chest to his, the soft hair decorating his chest tingling against your hardened nipples and you tossed your head back. Chin jutted up, it exposed your throat to the man so close, his hands loose around your waist tightening and pulling you flush against him. A strangled noise fell from your open mouth as his cock bobbed up and nudged at your core hovering so close to him.

“Din,” You panted, fingers splayed on his neck, reaching up towards the bottom of the helmet. He paused, his fingers so tight around your hips, and you realized how he read that. The desperate plea of his name coated by the velvet caress of your voice. The sultry glaze to your eyes as you stared directly into the dark visor that covered his own.

“I don’t want you to remove it, just..just want to feel, but…but I understand if that’s a line you need to draw. I respect you, I respect your Creed. I’ll keep my hands to myself if you aren’t comfortable.”

His hands snapped up to grip yours tightly, bringing them up to the underside of his helmet, the seal deactivating as he moved a thumb to press something along the space beneath his chin. A hiss filled the air and your fingers twitched in his as he guided them to press against the skin just below the cool beskar. Your fingers reached toward his jaw, where the stubble of his facial hair was peeking out from underneath. It was rougher than the hair on his chest, similar to the coarse hair that was a dark shadow beneath the water. You settled over him fully just as your fingers splayed over his jaw, feeling both patches at the same time and letting out a low whine as the silken skin of his cock settled against your slippery folds.

You felt the groan that fell from him in your bones, so close to you, impossibly close.

“Dank ferrick, mesh’la.” Din growled as he slumped back into the wall of the tub, his hips bucking up suddenly. You had no fear of him breaching your comfortability, of crossing a line that had been talked over. You trusted him, you felt so safe with him. And it felt like nothing you’d ever known before, so enraptured by someone and comforted in their presence. It felt like the ocean inside you that had been choppy for as long as you could remember was beginning to settle.

Din’s hands were tight around your hips, helping you to move against him, guiding your motions as he thrusted up to slide against you. Your soft, slick folds nestled over the length of him, creating a channel of friction that was too much for the man. His breathing hitching as he chases his own high, another one flaring quickly in your middle to match him.

He didn’t last long, the drawn out groan of his peak rumbling through you, the modulator no longer hiding the deep baritone of his voice in a veil of mechanics, but unfiltered for only your ears to hear. He bucked up, body twitching as you felt him throb between your legs. The water turning murky from his spend around you both. As he canted his hips to keep you close, you felt the head of his cock nudge at your fluttering entrance and pleasure ripped through you. Keening, the waves crested in a delicious feeling that took over your body.

It was a few moments before you came back to yourself, body limp as you leaned all of your weight against the temptation of Din below you. Forehead nuzzled into his heaving chest. Letting your body move along with the way his own moved as he came down from his own pleasure. His arms were now wrapped around your back, holding you to him, his head knocked back against the tile lined around the tub.

All you could whimper was his name, a small sound more breath than voice.

“I’ve got you, mesh’la,” He spoke softly, voice back to that modulated mockery of what you knew his deep, velvety voice actually sounded like now. “Fuck, mesh’la, you did so good for me.”

“W-wanted to.” You placed a kiss to where you could feel how fast his heart was beating. A delirious giggle sprouting from deep within you.

The room was soft, from the carpet plush at your feet to the bedding atop the large bed, to the blanket thrown over the back of the couch and the one in the crib that had been delivered to the room right before your arrival. It was quiet, the faint neon lights of the city blurred behind drawn curtains in the middle of the night.

Din was asleep beside you, safe inside the covers while you struggled to catch your breath as you had been jarred into consciousness from a bad dream. Silently, you slipped from the bed, leaving the warmth of him behind. Silent tears were cascading down your face, the fear and loss of the dream too much for you to handle and your mind had decided to pluck you from the pain of it just as the figure of your guardian had fallen in front of you once again.

Feeling raw and exposed, you slipped on your cloak that had been draped over the back of the couch in the living room. The door to the bedroom left cracked behind you as you walked over to the crib to find ad’ika staring up at you with big eyes. He quietly cooed as he reached out for you, his little claws gripping you tight as you lifted him up and cradled him close to your chest.

Settling into a corner of the couch, you dragged a blanket over both you and just sat there, not bothering to turn on a light lest it wake the resting man who was snoring slightly. You hadn’t seen him so relaxed since meeting him, something about the comforts of the booked room easing his anxieties and paranoia of always having to look over his back, always be on alert. Even if the reason you insisted on getting the room was to throw off a tail. You wondered when the last time he slept so soundly had been, when the last time you had been before your mind decided to remind you of why it was such a rare occurrence.

A small hiccup sounded and you looked down to see ad’ika clutching to you tightly, his own little mind playing tricks on him and bringing up things from the past. You let him curl a claw around a few of your fingers and brought it up to place a gentle kiss atop it. Emotions and energy flowed between you both, flashes of harsh light and the echoes of blaster bolts and the hum of swinging lightsabers sounding in your mind. He had been just a child too, when it all happened. When the only life you both had known had been ripped out from underneath you.

You thought back to the way Akiz would hold you in a similar way, to help ease your mind when nightmares plagued you. And for all the bad that occurred in your life, for all the things you had to endure, you were glad to be here in this moment to mirror his behavior for the small being cradled close to your chest. His other claw was laid flat on your chest, over where your heart was hurting. Trying to calm your breathing, you tightened the crossing of your legs beneath you both and closed your eyes.

“It’s okay, ad’ika. I’ve got you, I swear it.” You whispered to him as you tried to concentrate, meditating second nature. After a few moments, he looked up at you, his own breathing had calmed to copy yours, feeling the deep inhales and exhales of your body he pressed up to. He seemed to work himself up again, thoughts plaguing him, pushing memories of his own into your mind that were coated in fear, hitching your breath as they hit you at full force. The faint images in your mind’s eye as he had experienced the very same thing you had, a new perspective to the traumatic occurrence. Little brow furrowed and deep wrinkles in the green skin there, you chuckled lightly as you tried to smooth them out. “We’re safe, we got out. We made it out, ad’ika.”

He cried out softly, tensing in your hold. Trying to gather yourself enough for him through the haze of emotions and memories he was flooding you with, you gently rocked him. Hushing him quietly to ease his worries. His breathing evened out from the fast staccato it had taken on and the clenching of his eyes relaxed as you focused on sharing the feeling of warm water, the soft noise of cresting waves, the feeling of gliding through water on a board that you had crafted with our own small hands so long ago. Good memories from your childhood, the things you missed from it that felt like another lifetime.

A coo pressed into your neck and then a small giggle as you shared with him a memory of feeling so completely free, swiftly moving through a tunneling wave. The colors of the water illuminated by a blinding sun dulled to emulate the lights that surrounded the ship during hyperspace travel. All soft blues, tinged greens, soft white.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” You whispered, trying to keep the calm murmuring low as he relaxed under your attention. You nuzzled your forehead against his smaller one, letting him feel the calming thoughts you were pushing through the connection, hoping it was doing more good than just blanketing the harsh reality of your lives. “Let’s breath and focus, okay? We’re okay. We’re going to be okay.”

You didn’t hear the soft steps that moved across the plush carpet of the room or catch the glint of the dulled city lights reflected in the beskar that peeked through the opening of the door behind you.

“Mesh’la, I’ve drawn a bath for you.” Din’s voice was low, baritone close to you and you startled from where you were still cuddled into the corner of the couch. Slumber dissipated like a leak from your mind as your thoughts got staticky with anxiety at being caught unaware as you sucked in a deep breath through your nose. Ad’ika was asleep in your arms, eyes cracking open at the sound of the armored man’s voice. He jostled with the force of your jumping nerves as you flew from the couch, skin alight with the instinct to push up and away until you realized that you weren’t in any actual danger.

“Kriff!” You settled the small form in your arms down on the couch, still wrapped up tight in his blanket.

Leaning down to do so, you could feel the pull of your back muscles for your choice in sleeping arrangements. Din has stepped back calmly, not showing the fast beating of his heart or the guilt he felt at scaring you. You dotted on ad’ika, making sure he was okay and not at all alarmed by the rather abrupt awakening you both just had. Din’s hands came to grip your own, his gloves gone.

“I’ve got him, you’ve been up with him all night. I set fresh caf and one of the books from your bag out for you.”

Moments later, you were submerged in a perfect imitation of the bath you had drawn the night before.

Thoughts swirling like the cream you had poured into the cup of caf resting on a board spanning over the tub, securely nestled around the lips of it. Taking a sip, you leaned back onto the waterproof cushion fastened to the end of the tub, back muscles relaxing as the liquid warmed you from the inside out while steam wafted up from the hot water surrounding you. True to his word, Din didn’t disturb you, giving you a moment to yourself.

Warm arousal sparking through you as your body recalled the sensations from the night before. The feel of his strong body pressed against yours. The way he had curled his arms around you, the way he had thrusted up against you, dragging his hard cock through your folds, head stroking that bundle of nerves, pulling a second release from your worked up body while he chased his own. Hands recalling the feel of his thick curls tight in your fingers as you pulled on them, the feel of his jaw underneath them, the softest brushing against his lips before he had softly asked you to stop.

Guilt flared up at the pushing of his boundaries, at the closeness you both shared between bare bodies, but the recollection of how soundly you had both slept right after, curled into each other far outweighed it and you found peace within yourself. It hadn’t been uncomfortable, it had been…it had been euphoric to feel so safe with him in that way.

You hummed into the ceramic of the mug, taking another delicious sip. Leaning forward you placed the drink back on the board and took the moment for what it was. An easy morning with the two beings who meant so much to you in the other room, setting up breakfast before the day started.

The ship was silent as Din guided it through the space around the planet, preparing to jump into hyperspace. A relatively small planet he had picked out for the next stop, unsure of an overreaching plan but knowing that it was best to move. Especially now, having gained a tail in the marketplace. You had both spent a good amount of time going over the interior and exterior of the ship to ensure that no tracking beacons had been fastened to the aircraft. Even if the display on the man’s cuff hadn’t told him of the doors opening while away.

Just to be safe, to be cautious.

On alert and on guard for a majority of both your lives coalescing into an easy routine of ensuring complete safety when returning to where it was deemed home for the time being. Because that’s what the ship was to the man seated in front of you, his broad form filling out the pilot’s chair. And it was quickly developing into that for you as well, the bond between you both allowing for you to feel like you could share in his sentiments even more concretely.

The toggle he switched didn’t yield any change on the screen and you could hear the resounding sigh from the man but it didn’t sound as an alert for a message popped up. You prepared to leave the control room, knowing that some aspects of Din’s life were still unknown to you, not wanting to breach his privacy even if it was a simple message sent to his ship. But it was intended for him and him alone. It could be personal, it could be professional, but either way: you wanted to show respect for him in any way you could.

He must’ve clocked your movement, because his shoulders stilled from maneuvering his hands over the control panel and he turned in the chair to glance at you.

You offered him a tired smile, picking up the bundle that was a fast asleep ad’ika in some blankets in the third chair. The marketplace stop for supplies before returning to the ship had tired him out after his sporadic sleep the night before.

“Going to lay him down in my bed, let him sprawl out and he’ll wake to the lights.”

“Messages to me are messages to you. Unless they contain information on where the covert has relocated. But even then, I believe you’re entitled to that should you want to know. You have history and a connection with the Mandalorian culture and people.”

“But I am not Mandalorian myself, Din.” You reached out a hand to rest over the pauldron atop his shoulder. “It’s not a problem, I’ll leave you to it. Going to organize and see what supplies we have and make a list.”

You were about to cross the threshold when the voice of a man Din had last encountered back on Nevarro. The very one that had run him off world with the concentrated efforts of the entire Guild he had once been employed by. His helmet lifted slowly from where he was focused on the panel in front of him toward the hologram message as it displayed itself from another panel.

“My friend, if you are receiving this transmission, that means you are alive.”

Anger and frustration boiled in your stomach, filling you with negative and ill intentions as you turned on your heel in the threshold of the door. The figure of the man who had shot at you, who had wounded you, who had caused such a huge fight to erupt in the face of a personal vendetta he held against Din’s actions to save ad’ika formed to play the transmission. People had died, people had fled, the city had taken damage and destruction not only physically and so many individuals had been affected by the very man’s choice to move against Din in an orchestrated attack.

“You might be surprised to hear this, but I am alive too. I guess we could call it even.”

You couldn’t help the snarl of your lips as you took in the smug way the man’s displayed form settled his hands over his hips, seemingly unnerved by the way he had fired at you. Nearly taken your life and gotten Din caught. Nearly caused all three of you to be taken captive.

“A lot has happened since we last saw each other. The man who hired you is still here, and his ranks of ex-Imperial guards have grown. They have imposed despotic rule over my city, which has impeded the livelihood of the Guild.”

“He should’ve thought of that before he even let them set foot there.” You growled, voice low and threatening as you felt your emotions spike. Din’s visor turned to you fully, taking in the way the ends of your loose strands had begun to float, harnessed by the lack of control you were exhibiting in your worked up state. The visage you created, standing there in the semi-darkness of his control room with a bundled up child in your grip and a hard look decorating your features was formidable. Someone he would have to track and observe before moving against. Someone who would fight until they couldn’t anymore, until someone was dead and the conflict was no more. Your eyes flashed with the brightness of the transmission playing out, making him pause as he thought he caught something else in your eyes for the barest hint of a second. He turned back to view the transmission your eyes were glued on.

“We consider him an enemy, but we cannot get close enough to take him out.”

“He’s going to ask for your help.” You strutted forward and pushed the pause button on the panel without asking. The displayed figure frozen in a stance with his arms crossed and a hard look about his own features. “He’s going to ask you to risk yourself after attacking you and causing the covert to lose members and relocate.”

“He can do whatever he wants. That doesn’t mean-“

“You’re going to help him, I know you. I know you feel at fault for what happened, feel the need to right the wrongs that have sprung up because of your decisions. You worked with him, with the Guild for years, you feel an obligation to help them. Especially if they ask for it.”

“You don’t think I should.”

“No.” That same glint shone in your eyes despite the transmission no longer playing and it made the man seated beside you pause. Your entire demeanor so unlike your normal one. He had seen you be harsh in fleeting instances, more in response to something he had harshly said or done when first meeting you, in the way you had interacted with Xi’an and Mayfeld. The way in which you had cut down that thug back of Sorgan, the scratches you had left on Callican’s neck. Hints of an attitude and allusions to violence you were capable of that he had yet to see fully unleashed. It didn’t worry him, nor make him afraid, but it did make him pause. Cara had been right when she had seen your weapon for the first time: you were strong. Capable of doing so much damage with a simple twitch of your wrist. The ability to harness such a power as the Force and wield a weapon that could cut through anything made you dangerous. Even if he knew you wouldn’t use it against him or ad’ika.

“I’ve lived my life hiding and running, because taking them on and truly eradicating the threat was too much of a challenge.”

All he could do was nod, letting you know that he heard you and would take your words into account before he allowed the rest of the transmission to play out.

“If you would consider one last commission, I will very much make it worth your while. You have been successful so far in staving off their hunters, but they will not stop until they have their prize. Both of their prizes.”

You roughly pushed the pause button again, heart thudding in your chest.

“Din…” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, only guessing at what the man on display was about to reveal. Something you weren’t ready for anyone to know, a part of your past you tried to forget and shove down to never be thought of again. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, feel the black visor trained on you so directly that it nearly branded your skin. “He has my file, he has the ability to find out anything and everything about me if he’s the leader of the Guild. He- he knows who I really am.”

“And who are you?” His voice didn’t hold any accusations of malice, it was even in tone, telling you he was willing to listen to what you had to say. That he wanted to hear what you were willing to share with him.

“Someone who had trained with their top forces in order to infiltrate their ranks and get intimate details of how they operated until they were found out.” You exhaled heavily, aware of how tightly you were holding onto the blankets that were swaddled around ad’ika’s form. Your fingers going numb with the force of your desperate attempt at keeping your mood from spiking anymore. “Someone who did it to save the only person who ever looked out for them.”

“Akiz.”

“He had been injured beyond general medical procedures at the time, but the Empire…they had the means and equipment that could save him. I was offered an ultimatum, and I took it. I did it for him, I turned to them for him, bid my time and learned everything I could while he recovered.”

“You said he died protecting you.” Not an argument but a statement, a recollection of what you had told him of your beloved guardian through teary eyes.

“He did.”

A moment passed with no response before Din pressed play on the control panel, giving you both a moment to grapple with the truths you just revealed.

“You are in possession of one of the most sought-after bounties they’ve commissioned for. And a person of their ranks who betrayed them and destroyed an entire fleet of ships in her attempts to flee found alongside it. I had no idea when I handed you that last puck, commissioned by her mother. The officials here found it and her name was given to me to say to you, the truth about her revealed to me to allow me to understand the severity of the issue here. Return to Nevarro. Bring the child and woman as bait. I will arrange an exchange and provide loyal Guild members as protection.”

You watched the stoic expression of the man as he delved out the information and his idea of a plan so plainly.

“Once we get near the client, you kill him, and we both get what we want. If you succeed, you keep the child and the woman. I will have your name cleared with the Guild, for a man of honor should not be forced to live in exile. I await your arrival with optimism.”

A heavy silence followed the end of the transmission, Din’s visor trained on you holding the child tight in your grip. It followed you as you finally made an exit to lay ad’ika down in bed, roving over your back in a way that made you feel utterly and completely exposed.

You were in the hammock that was strung up in the hold space, the remainder of the day spent traveling somewhere that Din had chosen to guide the ship towards. He had left you and ad’ika to your own devices, opting to stay secluded in the cockpit for the day. No doubt going over everything from the transmission and dissecting your admission. You hadn’t eaten but had made sure the small being in your care had been fed and washed before laying him down for the night.

Din would come down eventually and you didn’t want to impose yourself on him. You should’ve told him before, but he had assured you to take your time with sharing things about yourself. Understanding all too well that certain parts of both of your pasts were harder to share than some. Not borne from unwillingness but of shame and fear of how it would reflect the decisions each made once upon a time.

His steps were nearly silent, but you could hear the hush of his cape as he moved about. Your breath puffed out as you turned in the hammock, facing the wall and adjusted the blanket over you to cover you completely. A possible interaction lighting up your body with an anxious hum. He had been so quiet after your confession. You knew what the Empire did to his people, how they manipulated the very trajectory of his life. How, years later, they did the exact same thing again. Endless attacks on innocent people and powerful cultures alike in their path to controlling the galaxy how they saw fit. And to find out that you had served them? That had to have hurt him.

It had hurt you to admit it. To reveal that part about yourself that brought you nothing but shame and regret, even if it was done with good intentions to save the life of someone important to you. And they had lost their life in the end regardless. A mistake that would haunt you every time your emotions flared, and the pull of the Force took hold of you.

Din’s presence was close, having descended the ladder. You could feel the way he moved about the space busying himself with making a meal before bed. The domestic sounds lulling you into a half- conscious state.

A hand encompassed your own with a gentle tug, but you only mumbled out something incoherent.

“Mesh’la, let’s go to bed.”

“’M comfy.” Was your rather muffled reply as your face was pressed heavily into the pillow beneath you.

The silence allowed for you to slip deeper into your slumber, the figure of Din not disturbing you in the slightest. But he must’ve felt differently, his mind heavy as he tried to decide what to do, what would be the best course of action. His words were quiet, though his tone held an honest admission.

“I don’t fault you or judge you for the things you did. For the choices you made…I wanted to thank you for telling me.”

“Wanted to.” You mumbled back, brain moving slow.

A squeeze to your hand was the last touch of him before he retired to his quarters, letting you sleep where you lay.

Sorgan was a beautiful sight once again as Din directed the ship toward the planet. Telling you of his plans to pick up Cara in hopes of her wanting to and being able to help with the ask from the transmission. It had been a long conversation in the early morning, you waking to the darkness of the hold and moving to the cot alongside the resting man. He had told you of his plan, of his worries about the task. But it was a mutual agreement to take it on.

He had assured you that you would remain unharmed and by his side. That he was doing it to ensure a safer future for you and ad’ika. You brought up the argument that this may not be the only surviving ranks that still operated, but that it was likely ad’ika’s life was known about only by those that sought after him. But it was the move to make, you had agreed with him on that. Promising him that you would make sure they were both safe, that they would be your top priority in the face of conflict.

You hadn’t gone into town with Din, opting to stay behind and stick close to the ship. A trek in the trees to help keep your head level and your emotions in check. Basking in the plush atmosphere and abundance of greenery that you loved so much, had always loved so much. Ever since your first time seeing such a landscape when you were younger and on the cusp of beginning your journey to who you were now.

The pull of your lips was a genuine one as you recalled the memory of a wider smile, a gloved hand holding yours and leading you off of a ship, murmured words of comfort from a man who you trusted with your life. One who trusted you enough to take back to his home planet and show you the ways of his people once yours had been threatened and attacked. It had been a difficult conversation for you, him telling you that it was dangerous to return to your own planet. Serenity flowed through your veins as you felt close to the man who had saved you in countless ways, even when you couldn’t save yourself.

The feeling and memories of him in the trees you brushed your hand out to feel the leaves against your palms. Comforted by the way they all felt the same even if they were scattered on different planets, a part of you that you sought after even after banished yourself to a desert planet as a punishment for the things you had done, the choices you had made.

“Well, hey there, cyar’ika.” Cara’s voice greeted you as you left the protection of the trees and walked into the clearing where Din had landed the ship. She was beside Din, ad’ika choosing to move toward you while they both waited for the ramp to open and settle to board the ship. Her smile was dazzling as she took in the easy way you moved about, no longer worried about upsetting or triggering Din’s instincts to chase. No longer closed in on yourself and only a shadow of a person. You walked as his true equal now and it was a world of difference. “Don’t you look well rested.”

“Hello to you too,” You returned her greeting with a nod of your head and leaned down to scoop of adi’ka, his grabby hands too much of a cute display to ignore his silent request to be picked up. He must be tired from the walk, his legs so much smaller than Din’s, his gait less of a strut and more of a waddle. You nuzzled your nose against his tiny one in greeting. Aware of her eyes watching you, taking in the simple outfit of form fitting pants to the cape you wore over your shoulders, hair braided and pulled back out of your face as it looped behind your head and was pinned securely in place.

“Did burc’ya make you walk the whole way there and back?” You cooed, relishing in images he was pushing into your mind of his visit into town. Proud of him for picking up the skill you had been sharing with him, to make it easier to understand the things happening about him and for you to know what he was asking after less of a guessing game. You laughed as he pushed the feeling of excitement he had felt at watching Cara fight with another patron in what had to be a bet. “He’s a big ole meanie, isn’t he?”

“Don’t listen to whatever he’s telling you, he wanted to walk the whole way. Fussed when I tried to pick him up.” Din defended, though there was no harsh tinge to his words. If you could guess, you would say the man was smirking beneath his helmet, enjoying in the teasing banter.

“Is that right, wanted to show Cara here that you were big and strong, huh?”

You sidled up beside them both, following them up the ramp and into the ship.

Cara’s voice carried down from the control room to the hold, where you were tidying things up and ensuring that nothing was out of place to make the ship feel cramped with more than two average sized people aboard. You did leave out the current piece of chainmail you were working on though, not wanting to disrupt the pattern you had decided to try your hand at.

“He alright up there alone?” The woman asked as she followed Din as he made his way down the ladder, the cabinet that he stored his weapons in opening with the press of a button on his vambrace. His easy answer had you shaking your head, knowing he was about to eat his words. Ad’ika was anything if not mischievous, finding things to get into at a moment notice.

“Pick one.” Din instructed her, wanting the woman to be as prepared as you and him both for the upcoming conflict.

“Do you trust the contact?” She picked up and weighed the feel of a few pieces, her eyes finding your own at the table where you were working on hammering rings of metal together with concentration.

“Not particularly. He and I had a run-in last time I was there on some Guild business.”

“Not too fond of how he fired an actual bullet at me.” You muttered as you leaned in close to make sure the closures were secure before moving onto the next line of your work. The memories of that injury stirring in your body, phantom aches sprouting forth. It had been harsh, the recovery from such a wound, but if it hadn’t been for Din, you wouldn’t even have made it up from the floor of the ship. You felt the weight of Din’s visor on you and looked up to share a look with him. A silent confirmation that you were still okay with the decision to face the threat head on, with following his lead.

“So then why are we going?”

“I don’t have a choice.” You wanted to interject, but let the man speak plainly. Knowing why he was choosing to do what he thought was necessary. What was for the best, should it all play out according to plan. “You saw what happened on Sorgan. We had a tail on the last planet before we came to you. They’ll keep sending hunters. The kid will never be safe until the Imp is dead.”

“And you’re okay with bringing him back there?”

“Not really.” His voice lilted, his emotions obvious as he revealed how hesitant he was to take both you and ad’ika so close to danger, too close to those who were actively hunting after you. “That’s why I’m bringing you.”

Anymore of the conversation was cut short as the ship began to roughly jostle. Alarms sounding from the cockpit where they had left ad’ika alone. You easily looped the last ring on the row you had begun a few moments ago and set it in the crate designated for your work and tools. Clasping it shut from your seated position didn’t work as your hands couldn’t find a steady hold. Your hands scrabbled against it as the ship continued to warble in its course, no doubt the culprit of ad’ika messing with the steering.

“We need someone to help watch that thing.” Cara’s voice was stern, worry evident.

“San tries her best, but he is a handful. Especially if we’re going into enemy territory.”

“You got anyone you can trust?”

You were just entering the cock pit to let them know you were going to lay down for a moment, when you spied the coordinates Din was punching in.

“Arvala-7?” You turned from the control panel displaying the route of travel that Din had programmed into the system. There was a never-ending replacement of the plush, rich landscape that brought you so much comfort with that of harsh winds and gritty sand that spanned for miles and miles. So unforgiving in the way that the land simply was, no thought for nourishment or refuge to visitors. A far cry from where you felt you belonged but always found yourself returning to. A darkness shadowing over every beam of sunlight that you tried to bathe yourself in.

“Yes, but…”

“No.”

“You won’t have to disembark.”

“Burc’ya n-no, please don’t take me back there.”

“I’m not taking you back, I made sure that compound was destroyed. We’re just going to see if he’ll be willing to help.”

Ad’ika was whining, uncomfortable with the heightened emotions in the small room. He could pick them up from you and Din both, the confusion of Cara making the scene into something he didn’t like.

“I don’t- what’s going on?” Cara seemed surprised to see you openly upset, still getting used to you speaking unprompted, of moving about as comfortably as you did about the ship. She had spied the room behind the cockpit, done up with a cot and a trunk for storage of personal possessions. Your bag set atop it along with a pile of neatly folded clothing. Though the bed was made and untouched save for a smaller blanket thrown over the top. Suspiciously the perfect size for ad’ika’s little form.

The touch of your presence was noticeable all over the ship, from the hammock in the corner of the hold, to two pillows atop the second cot nestled into a small space that was undoubtedly Din’s personal quarters, to the open crate of metal working tools and pieces of chain mail in variant states of completion. You had folded yourself into the space, his space, and the two of you seemed to be on equal terms compared to when she last interacted with you both.

It could be noted that you both didn’t stray too far from each other, you from either him or the small creature of the child. A soft-spoken name for one and a comfortable, easy-going rapport with the other.

“The person who helped me last with him is on the same planet I found San.” Din spared a glance over as Cara, not willing to take his eyes off of you completely, you were so tense he worried for the soreness that would follow if he could get you to relax.

“We need him, you know this. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“What’s a bunch of sand and red rock gonna do to you, cyar’ika? C’mon, you got me and Mando to watch out for you, no one is going to take you. I’m pretty sure the tin can over there would fire on someone if they so much as looked at you.”

“Would you want to go back to the place where you were drugged, tortured and taken advantage of? Used as a plaything for anyone and everyone?” You couldn’t help but snap, emotions jumbled and intertwined so tightly underneath your skin. Too overwhelming and difficult to separate in order to think properly. The mess of them prompting you to reveal in plain words what you normally would only allude to when asked. Din’s motions of going through the contents behind a panel below the controls halted, a crackling sounding from the modulator as your words settled in the air. Cara, similarly, dropped into your normal perch behind the pilot’s chair. At a loss for words, knowing whatever they chose to say would be the wrong thing.

You didn’t wait for their attempts at a response, instead crossing the small space and entered your quarters. Overly sensitive in the wake of memories of your past guardian found in the soothing embrace of the forest.

This was a bad idea, this was a monumentally bad idea. It didn’t matter how much faith and confidence you had in everyone’s abilities. Going back to the place that you had experienced such negative emotions was potentially triggering. You could already feel the pull of the Force when just seeing Greef Karga again, and that had only been a hologram transmission. Not even the real, physical form of the man who had shot you and nearly killed you for not reason other than simply being abord the Razor Crest.

Fear overriding everything else, self-preservation in the most selfish of ways rooted deep in your very being since you had last run from the very same people commanded you to be handed over now. You would apologize later, for your harsh words, but right now you needed to be alone. You needed to meditate and concentrate, push back the pull you felt so strongly inside of you.

Faint sounds of the pair of them could be heard as they moved about, Din rustling in the crate of errant machinery and parts he kept aboard the ship. You wondered what he was looking for, what he was doing but you felt too raw to face either of them. Their voices a soft murmur as you sit in the middle of the small space and try to focus on the push and pull of the Force all around you.

“So…”

“Don’t start.” Was Din’s simple response, knowing he was about to get an earful from the smirking woman sat across from him at the makeshift table. He had a spare bin placed atop most of the surface, tools and other parts surrounding it while he worked on a making a crude impression of the pod that ad’ika had been found in. While he knew you had only been teasing, you had been right In your observation of the small child being tired from his trip into town to fetch Cara. He was too small to be without transportation aid and the protection it would allow him.

“She seems like a completely different person. It looks good on her.” Cara lifted the mug in her hands to take a sip of the steaming caf she had made. The set up looking extremely well kept and stocked, everything neatly labeled in clean script. She hadn’t been able to read any of the words, Mandalorian, but had known that Din wouldn’t choose to spend his time with such a small thing as organization. It had to have been you who took the time to do it. “You did the right thing, not finishing her job.”

“She’s an admirable travel companion.”

“Is that all she is?”

The armored man didn’t respond, knowing what the ship looked like, what is allowed for other people to read into. He had no shame about the nature of his relationship with you, but he wasn’t sure if you would take kindly to him speaking about it plainly with the woman across from him. While he was comfortable in her presence and they were more than acquaintances at this point, he had firsthand experience with seeing how you interacted with people who seemed to know more about you than you cared for them to. He wasn’t about to break your trust, just as he wished for you to not break his own with you.

“Now I know why that lovely widow wasn’t an option.” She pointed a thumb over her shoulder to where the door to his quarters was open a crack, allowing her a view of the two pillows atop the cot only big enough for one person.

“Cara.”

“San is a gorgeous woman, Mando.” Din’t hands froze as he recalled the way your face bloomed when overwhelmed with pleasure. He shifted his hips, feigning reaching for a tool just out of his immediate grasp, adjusting himself as he felt a jolt of heat between his legs. “It looks like she’s really adjusted to life here on the ship. With you. Takes care of things.”

“She fights and does her far share of the hard labor, though she doesn’t know a kriffing thing about flying or anything beyond basic mechanics.”

“And you find that endearing, don’t you?”

“She has other skills.” He stated, a slight defensive. It was easy for people to take a glance at you and see only what you allowed them to, he had done so himself when first meeting you, taking you as a quarry all those weeks ago. But Cara had seen you fight, for a moment, surely she hadn’t forgotten that so easily. He did know why he felt the need to remind her that you were more. Perhaps it was a protective manner, to rekindle the knowledge that you were skilled, that you should be treated with respect, though he knew logically that the woman across from him did and you were both on good terms with each other.

“I’m sure she does, it takes a lot to survive on your own. Especially if she was on the run for as long as her puck had described. Her own trauma would’ve been enough to take a normal person down, but she’s strong. And the way she took down that raider? It was as easy and breathing for her, even in recovery. She makes armor too?” A hand reached out to inspect the contents of your haphazardly shut crate. A nearly finished piece of chainmail in the form of a shirt was folded over the lip of it and she carefully extracted it. An impressed hum fell from her lips as she took in the care and attention your gave to the piece, the rings closely knit and fastened tightly together. “Good quality armor.”

“Family business, it’s how she’s been helping to contribute. Sold a few pieces for a few thousand each.”

Cara let out a low whistle, eliciting a giggle from ad’ika as he swung in the hammock in the corner.

Placing the piece back into the crate, she spied the open notebook you used to scribble in. The pages were folded and bent, most likely as a result of it not being clasped and she could make out the drawing you had done of a masculine figure. Keeping quiet so as to not garner Din’s attention, she reached for it and took in the broad frame that took up the page entirely. Notes and measurements in a language that wasn’t Basic nor the Mandalorian she was beginning to recognize.

“Any idea what she’s written down here next to what is obviously a drawing of you?” She turned the notebook in her hands to face Din, the black of the visor whipping up as he realized what she held in her hands.

“Put that away, I don’t think she knows it’s out here.”

“I wonder how she knows what you look like underneath all that armor.” A knowing smirk lifted the corners of her lips as he turned the book back toward her. It wasn’t a graphic sketch, by any means. Din’s form clothed in light attire, though he was without his armor in it. Ruffling through the pages, she discovered it was more of a workbook than anything else. More notations and sketches for pieces you had worked on or wished to create. She closed the notebook with a snap, winding the string around it to secure it closed and placed it back into the crate. Contemplative in her silence.

“She’s worried about the Imps.”

“It’s not my information to share.”

“We’ve all had run ins with them, even after they were ‘defeated’,” She used air quotes around the word, knowing full well that there were pockets of them still operating as if nothing had changed. Case and point with what was happening on Nevarro. Such an expansive and all powerful crusade didn’t just fizzle out, too many factions and people of power who knew how to lay low and bide their time to show their hands. “But she seems…extra cautious.”

“You’ll have to talk with her.” Din continued to work on the project laid out before him.

True to his word, Din hadn’t pushed you to disembark from the ship when they landed on the barren, desert planet. A simple announcement to let you know that they were going to close the ramp after themselves that you hadn’t responded to. They were gone for a long while, no doubt laying out the situation to Kuiil and allowing him time to ask questions and make his decision with as much information as they could provide to him.

When the ramp lowered, hours later, you emerged from your quarters. There was a lot of stuff set out at the bottom of the ramp, supplies and a very still Din. Cara was the first to begin moving items aboard and you looked around the general landscape that was visible to you before you moved to help her. A nod shared with Din was all you could manage, though you were sure it was obvious you had been crying.

“You’ve grown, flourished into something admirable.” Kuiil’s voice called to you as he fastened a harness around a few of the blurrgs he had corralled into a small pen. He looked over to the armored man, an unreadable expression that prompted you to follow his gaze. “You didn’t turn her in, you made space aboard your ship for her to live her life. As an equal.”

“I did.” Like it hadn’t been one of the most life changing things could provide for you. Heat bloomed in your chest as you slowly made your way down the ramp. A deep breath in and heavy exhale before your boot settled in the sand beyond the metal.

“Do you have experience with such creatures?”

“No. sir, but other herd species that have been domesticated in much the same way.” You reached out a hand for one of the blurrgs to inspect. The breath hot on the exposed skin of your fingers, the force of it ruffling the cape that covered your body.

“It took this one a few days to learn how to mount, do you know how to ride?” Kuiil nodded over toward Din, a soft smile adorning your lips as you tried to picture the easily annoyed man try to tame the creatures enough to allow him permission to mount. He must’ve been thrown off a few times, creatures like them picking up on emotions as easily as breathing.

“Yes.”

“We will be using them for travel, we should see if they are easier for you.”

“Do they have names?”

“They do not, but they are all very understanding in nature if you aren’t hiding from them.”

“Hmm, will be you a good girl and let me try?” You cooed at the creature, willing to try but not wanting to be thrown off in much the same fashion you were imagining they had done with Din. Carefully entering the pen, with the Ugnaught close on your heels, you approached the creature with steady hands.

It took a few moments of the creature backing away from you and then coming back before they allowed for you to grip a hand around their harness. Once you did, you pulled yourself up and planted your backside firmly in the seat atop their back. She quickly took off, racing around the pen with jumps and hops that you weren’t sure was an attempt to buck you off but to see how well you could handle riding.

Keeping your balance was easy, despite the creature’s efforts to truly test a new rider, your grip tight on the reigns in your hand. Focused on allowing your body to roll with their movements, cape billowing out with every move. After a good while, the creature deemed you okay and began to simple trot around the enclosure.

With a wide smile, you clicked your tongue and guided them back to the post where Kuiil fastened her back up. Your heart stuttered as you realized Din had leaned up against one of the posts with his arms crossed over his broad chest to watch, the glint of the setting suns playing off of his beautiful armor.

Kuiil remained close by the creatures, offering them soft murmurs of comfort as the ship traveled. Surely, they hadn’t ever been aboard such a craft if their anxious rustling was any indication. But they were behaving for the most part, taking to it well with the help of their beloved handler.

Taking over the entire makeshift table, Din and Cara were interlocked in a game of arm wrestling, a cheeky comment from the former shock trooper resulting in the challenge. They were in a stalemate, small grunts of exertion puffing from both of them the longer they tried to overpower the other.

“I got you, Mando.”

“Care to double the bet?”

Suddenly, Cara was gasping, soft grunts waning out as she could no longer seem to take in a breath. Your head shot up, looking over to where ad’ika was secure in a newly constructed replacement for his pod. A small claw lifted up and his eyes clenched shut in concentration was all you needed to know as you quickly pushed up from your seat and moved toward him.

“Nayc, ad’ika! Nayc!”

He didn’t seem to hear you, as Cara let go of the hold she had on Din and her fingers scrambled at her throat. Din’s attention shifted from her, mind recalling the similar way that you had done something similar with Xi’an, to the child. He jumped up, closer to him than you were. He lifted him up from within his makeshift pod, words quick.

“No! No, no! Stop!” Concentration broken, the child gladly accepted Din’s hold and fastened his claws around the man’s arms. “We’re friends, we’re friends. Cara is my friend!”

“That is not okay!”

“I’m so sorry, cyar’ika! He must’ve been trying to imitate me, I didn’t know he was able to concentrate in order to do that!” You were crouched beside her, hands gently caressing her arms as she sucked in deep breaths and tried to fight off the dizziness that had taken over.

“Very curious.” The Ugnaught approached the child with a stoic face, taking in the events with reverence.

“Curious? It almost killed me!” Cara shouted out, understandably upset and worked up.

“He doesn’t realize how strong he is, he’s still learning how to wield it.” You tried to placate her, knowing it wasn’t much.

“The story you told me of the mudhorn now makes more sense. Though what it is, I don’t know. But what it does, what you both do. This…this I’ve heard rumors of.”

“What? When you worked for the Empire?” The accusation was harsh as it flew through the air.

“When I was sold to the Empire, in indentured servitude.”

“Yet somehow you walk free.”

“Hey! We all need to calm down. Yes, he walks free and so do I. Working with the Empire doesn’t make us horrible people.” Items in the cabin began to float, the panels on the walls shaking with the emotions you were feeling, crates jostling in their secure holds against the walls. The agitation of immediate judgement from someone who had been wronged just as much as you had by the very people you had been forced to submit to. She had only been so lucky they didn’t have anything to hold over her and force her to turn to them. Loss was loss, but manipulation was easy for those who had obvious weaknesses to exploit. All of it cruel, no comparison worse than the other, only more heartbreaking.

Silence fell at your loud words; voice elevated to try and take control over the situation. Both Cara and Kuiil turned to you with shock playing across their features, your words revealing more about yourself than you cared to admit. But in order to corral the situation, you had decided to defend the Ugnaught by voicing your own similar experience. Letting him know that he wasn’t alone in the suffering he had endured.

Cara tore her arm out of your light hold, though you had stood up when she had in the heat of the moment. It stung, her rejection in wake of your words, but you understood and moved to give her some space.

“I bought my freedom through the skill of my hands and the labor of three of your human lifetimes.” As he spoke, voice strict and leaving no room for argument, IG-!! Approached from where the droid had been standing guard by the creatures secured in the back of the space. “Do not cast doubt upon that of what I am nor whom I shall serve.”

Breathe held, you worried for another round of accusations to fly, but Din took control of the situation, not wanting the conflict on his ship among people he recruited for a job that required working smoothly alongside each other.

“Tell you what. I could really use your craft work right now.” Din settled ad’ika back into his makeshift pod, admitting that he had thrown it together quickly, that it wasn’t the best work but what he could manage with what supplies and parts were available. The child cooed and gurgled, seemingly unaware of the tension he had caused with his protective move against Cara. “Can you pad this container so the child can sleep better?”

“I shall fabricate a better one.” Kuiil turned to point an accusing finger toward a still seething Cara across the space. “Then perhaps this Dropper can see how one can win their freedom with the skill of one’s hands.”

The moment passed, tension easing a bit as the Ugnaught began to move about the space to collect things for a new pod. You opted to stay down in the hold with him and ad’ika, giving Cara some space after everything.

“I didn’t know they had taken you prisoner.” Cara’s voice was soft, almost hesitant as she approached where you were seated at the makeshift table with one hand wrapped around a steaming mug, the other reaching into the new pod where the child gripped it tight with his tiny claw. “You only mentioned your mother holding you.”

“It’s not something I generally broadcast.”

“I didn’t mean to yell so loudly, it’s just that- that power really unnerves me.” She sighed as she settled into the same chair she had been in earlier, before everything had become complicated and personalities had clashed.

“It unnerves me too, the only surviving rumors and stories are all steeped in the shadow of the Empire. I know the truth of those powers, the origin stories and the people who used to wield them for the good of the galaxy. I’m one of the very few alive, even now after so long. But none of that matters when they’ve been wiped out and their stories erased in favor of those to instill fear. It doesn’t matter that the Empire has been eliminated down to sparse bases of operations and high ranks clinging to the echoes of power they once had themselves. They destroyed so much, they still do.

I was given an ultimatum, much like Kuiil. And I don’t regret taking the easier road, even it if did land me in the midst of the very people who took everything from me before they fell.” You wiggled your hand from ad’ik’a, his grip loose in his sleeping state.

She whispered your name, unsure of what else to say in wake of such an admission.

“But it’s okay, because it got to me where I am now. Aboard this ship as a free woman. With this little guy to look after so the same things don’t befall him. With…with ner kar’ta.”

You both sat in a comfortable silence, the conflict of earlier not forgotten but mended over. Sharing stories of what had happened during your time apart over a simple meal. IG-11 helping you to prepare enough for everyone and ensuring you they would clean up afterwords while everyone indulged. She had offered to take Kuill a plate while you took one up to Din. Both of you reaching out to bring everyone back together in the effortless way that food was capable of.

Hours later, you retired for the night. The day having been a long one. Another of travel ahead. You had offered Cara your own quarters, should she wish for a bit of privacy to rest. She had taken up your offer with a smug look tossed over to Din as he made his way to his own, though she didn’t make a comment other than to thank you for your kindness.

“Thank you.” You mumbled into the crook of his neck, nose pressing into the warmth of his skin. He was fully dressed but he had removed the cowl about his neck to rest easier atop the bed. Hesitant to undress further with two other passengers aboard the ship, despite his trust in them. Similarly, you had stayed in your outfit, only removing your boots and gloves in order to lay down for the last bit of travel toward Nevarro. “I was…afraid earlier. There are some things that- trigger me in a way and I would rather not face those things if I can help it.”

“Triggering.” One of his arms rested over you, bringing you flush against him. The armor wasn’t the most comfortable to rest against, but the feeling of him breathing beneath it helped to ease your mind all the same.

“Din, my sabers, they’re white.” You whispered into the shared darkness.

“Mesh’la, I’m trying to follow you, but I don’t – I don’t know much about your culture whereas you know so much about mine.”

“I’ve only heard of one other person who carries white sabers.” You took a deep breath, your heart thudding as you tried to calm yourself. He needed to know, you needed to share with him something to help him understand what exactly was at stake with this conflict. “White sabers have been purified. It means that the person who wielded them went to great lengths to find balance within themselves.”

“Because they were not always so.”

“Exactly…”

He didn’t ask you what color they used to be.

And you didn’t tell him that they used to glow as red as the ones in your nightmares.

Gearing up and getting the blurrgs ready for when the ship landed took a collected effort. Between you, Kuiil, Cara, and the IG unit, it was easier but still took some time. The four blurrgs aboard the ship were ready to stretch their legs, restless after having been cramped up for nearly three days of travel through hyperspace. You had calibrated your vambrace to connect with Kuiil’s handheld comm link. The pod he constructed for ad’ika complete and able to be controlled with either yours or Din’s cuffs.

The blurrgs steps clanged as the creatures made their way down the ramp, lining up in a loose formation in front of the man who had reached out to ask for aid.

Greef Karga was a tall man, his clothing neat and put together. Save for the damage done by Din’s blaster over the left breast of his leather coat. You held a hand to your lowest rib on the left side of your own body, feeling the phantom pain of a since healed injury at the man’s hand. There were three Guild members collected behind him, all sporting their own preparations.

“Sorry for the remote rendezvous, Mando. But things have gotten complicated since you were last here.”

“It appears that introductions are in order.” The man looked over the line the blurrgs created in front of them. Cara and Din flanking the closed and secured pod. Kuill beside the armored man and you on to the right of him. “It seems we’ve both provided a security detail.”

The man’s eyes roved over you all, taking in the way you were simply listening and letting him ramble on in his greeting.

“I recommend the shock trooper guards the ship. These lava fields are lousy with Jawas.”

“She’s coming with me.”

“But the town is now run by ex-Empire.” Karga made an imposing figure with his hands rested on his hips. “If a Rebel Dropper is with us, they’ll all get their hackles up.”

“She’s coming.” Din insisted simply.

“At least cover your tattoo. No need to flaunt it.” He acquiesced. His attention turned to you, the gazes of those behind him following as well. “I see you’ve brought this lovely lady back here, you are looking wonderful in your healed state. That was a nasty business the last time we met, I can only offer my apologies for firing upon you.”

“Apologies not accepted.” You frowned, not liking how he was talking with such disregard for the seriousness of the situation. As if it was all some game or show he was fronting for, not truly concerned with. He balked at your dismissal, his own frown marring his features.

“Surely you must understand that I was merely doing my job as leader of the Guild, Mando here was running off with a quarry he had already handed over. Possibly two, because we both know he had no true intentions of handing you over either. You were simply in the vicinity of such a misguided act.”

“Surely you must understand that not everyone buys into your overly straightforward and charismatic act. It’s simply something that people have the right to be cautious of.” You head crooked to one side, words falling and hitting the man right in his chest. Your eyes locked with his. Behind him, the other bounty hunters reached for their weapons, hands hovering over them as they looked you over. Not outwardly threatening but your words hinting at more than a pretty face or simple quarry sought after by her mother. You had no doubts that Karga had either told them of your involvement with the Empire so they were to keep an eye on you or he hadn’t and kept it simple to avoid any complications with the plan.

“Ooh, Mando, I do like her. Not afraid to speak her mind now that she’s got you to protect her, huh?”

“I’d be more wary of what she’s capable of, I’ll shoot but she’ll make sure you aren’t breathing.” Din spoke up, wanting to hurry this along. But he knew the man standing before him, how he liked to draw things out. Read what he could from long interactions with people. Choosing to ignore the rather heated comments from you both, the man opened his arms in exasperation.

“Now, where is the little one?”

Everyone watched as Din controlled the pod to move out of the line, up toward Karga. As it opened, revealing ad’ika inside and wide awake, your hands twitched around the reigns in your grip just as Din moved a hand to hover over the blaster holstered to his thigh.

“So this little bogwing is what all the fuss was about.” You watched with untethered focus for any signs of discomfort or ill intent as Karga lifted ad’ika with gentle hands from within the pod. “What a precious little creature. I can see why you didn’t want to harm a hair on its wrinkled little head.”

He gently placed the child back into the pod, but your grip remained tight on the reigns, tension taut in your body. You didn’t trust him, you didn’t trust the men behind him, you didn’t trust this entire situation. But it was Din’s call and you would follow his lead.

“Well, I’m glad this matter will be put to rest once and for all.”

With the pod safely between Din and Cara once again, you exhaled a heavy breath.

“The sun drops fast on Nevarro. We can walk for a spell, camp out at the riverbank, then make our way into town at first light.”

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taglist: @clevergirl74 @strawberri-blonde @js-favnanadoongi @littlemisspascal @moonknight-s-cumdump @bookloverkat @golden-mando @beskarandblasters @feral-ferrule @bearsbeetsbeskar @76bookworm76 @anoverwhelmingdin @sarap-77 @picassopedro @sawymredfox @jessthebaker

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

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secondaxispoint · 1 year

Text

Din Djarin x Male!Mando!Reader

Pairing: Din Djarin x Male!Mando!Reader

Warning: None!

Content: Fluff

This is from Din’s perspective so the reader has a nickname. No use of y/n. Hope you guys enjoy!

Partners

Din had been so used to living alone that when another Mandalorian offered to join him in his travels, it took him a while to come to terms with it. The man was quiet and intelligent. He was a bit taller than him and had a broad frame. Din had watched the other hunter in action and was surprised he had never met him before. His reddish tinted beskar and durasteel armour looked similar to his own, Mandalorian sigil forged proudly on his shoulder.

Once Din had stepped on board, along with his new partner, he was pleasantly greeted by Grogu. He smiles under his helmet and leans down to pick the creature up. He turns to the other man and starts introductions.

“This is Grogu, Grogu this is…”

He pauses, releasing that he never got a name from the other hunter. He looks up from the little beast he held in his arms. A bit of tension left his shoulders when he heard the warrior laugh through his helmet and step a bit closer.

“Jackal. Nice to meet you little guy.”

Din watches as he leans down and reaches a hand to Grogu who giggles happily and grabs one of his gloved fingers.

“You can get to know him after we get out of here. For now you should get familiar with the controls and layout of the ship.”

Jackal nods and Grogu releases his grip. Din puts him down and makes for the small area where he keeps his weapons. Jackal’s rifle is still clasped to his back and his blaster is still on his hip. He’d have to clear a spot for the other’s weapons. But for now, Din puts his stuff away and leads the man to the very front of the ship. When he hears Jackal’s footsteps become irregular, he looks back to see that Grogu has attached himself to the taller man's calf.

“Y’know it would be easier for both of you if you just picked him up.”

He heard Jackal stifle a laugh as he bent down to pick up the clingy child. Once he had Grogu securely in his arms, he continued on behind Din.

It took a few hours, but the three finally found a safe place to rest for a while. Jackal volunteered to stay up a bit longer due to the lack of space in the ship. Din felt sort of bad but trusted the man to his own devices. He tried to retreat back to his and Grogu’s cramped sleeping quarters but the little one refused to go with him. Grogu climbed up and forced himself into Jackal’s lap. He chuckled and told Din that it was okay and that he would watch over Grogu while he slept.

Din had slept through most of the night, only waking when he heard a quiet knock on the shudder. He opens it to see Jackal standing with a sleeping Grogu in his arms. He silently shuffled out of the sleeping area and offered it to the other. Jackal had a bit tougher time fitting in the makeshift bed but he made it work. Din stretched and prepared himself for the day.

Two years later, the three of you were still together. Din and Jackle had been dancing around their feelings for eachother for over half of it. They shared little moments here and there but never explicitly confronted the other about it. Neither of them wanted to ruin the partnership that they had been building. So feelings continue to go unacknowledged. At least they do until a bounty goes sideways and Jackal almost gets himself killed trying to save Din.

So they both sit in the Razor Crest, panting and bloody. The ship was completely silent besides the ragged breaths coming from the hunters. Grogu was safe and sound with Peli, far away from the shit storm the two created for themselves. Din noticed the stiff and pained posture Jackal had taken. He stood and walked over to the medical area, grabbing a kit, and bringing it back to Jackal.

Din assisted Jackal, laying him down on the floor, and taking his armour off. Albeit not being the cleanest place to tend to an open wound, it was all they had at the moment. With his chest piece off and his weapon put aside, Jackal helped pull the undershirt up enough so that Din could tend to his injury. He had a large vertical gash on his lower left abdomen. Din saw that his midsection was littered with varying healed scars.

He stitches up and bandages the slash before leaning back giving the other some breathing room. Sitting back on his heels, he watched Jackal’s chest rise and fall steadily. Jackal reaches a hand to Din, which he grasps in his own. He helped the man sit up and get up into the co-pilot’s seat in the control room. He grabbed a fresh set of clothes for the injured hunter and gave him some privacy to change. Din stood outside the door, nervously swaying back and forth.

He waited for Jackal to trudge out, hand on his side. Din let out a sigh of relief and offered Jackal his armour back. He didn’t put it back on, instead opting to set it aside and sitting back down in his seat with a groan. Din moved behind him, too restless to sit. He put his hand on the back of Jackal’s chair and spun it around. He wanted to make absolute sure that his partner was going to be okay.

Jackal tilted his head, confused. Din knelt down in front of him with his hands on both sides of the armrests. Jackal said nothing but leaned forward slightly. Din moved his hands down to Jackal’s knees, not pressing any further, just simply setting them there. Din could hear his breath hitch through his helmet. Jackal sat stiff and still until Din started to pull away. Neither man said anything. Jackal grabbed one of Din’s hands and pulled him up to eye level. Slowly leaning forward, Din gently touched his helmet to Jackal’s. He leaned back and sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

Jackal asked, genuinely concerned. Din looked up, and got an idea.

“Do you trust me?”

Din asked the man in front of him.

“With my life.”

The ease with which he said it made Din a bit dizzy.

“Sit tight.”

Din walked to the control panel and Jackal heard him flip a few switches. The lights dimmed and then turned off fully, leaving the men in almost complete darkness. Din carefully moved back in front of Jackal and kneeled in front of him once again. He slowly takes his helmet off and audibly sets it down, hoping Jackal knows what he’s implying. Luckily he does.

He hears Jackal take off his helmet and gently presses it into his hand for him to put down. After placing the helmet down next to his own, Din leaned back up. He stopped about an inch away, he could feel Jackal’s breath on his face.

“Is this okay?”

Din asked in a hushed tone. Instead of responding, Jackal closed the distance between them. The kiss is slow and meaningful. Almost two years of pent up feelings and unresolved tension shone through their intimacy. Jackal moved his hand up and rested it on the back of Din’s neck, the other cupped his jaw. Din tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

Jackal was the first to pull away for air but Din didn’t want the kiss to end. He moved down to pepper Jackal’s neck in love bites and small kisses. Din felt a groan rumble in the back of Jackal’s throat. He finally pulled back and listened to the other man pant in the darkness. Din started to stand up but before he could, Jackal grabbed his hands once again. Only this time he pulled Din towards him.

Din was tugged into Jackal’s lap. Once he was comfortable and not anywhere near Jackal’s injury, Din grabbed both sides of his face and yanked him in again. This time their kiss was more heated. Hands wandered. They both made the most of it since they were probably never going to see each other's faces. Jackal felt the stubble on Din’s face, and ran his fingers through his soft hair.

Although Din couldn’t see, he could imagine what the man in front of him looked like. Flushed cheeks with half-lidded and glossed over eyes. He felt as his cheeks started to burn at the thought. Din was shocked back into reality by a pained groan coming from Jackal. He jumped out of the man’s lap and apologised for losing focus.

“It’s alright Din I’m okay. But maybe we should take a little break for today.”

Jackal chuckled lightly and Din smiled into the darkness. Din fumbled around the ground and grabbed the helmets, putting his on and handing Jackal his. Once both of the Mandalorians were covered, Din slowly turned the lights back on. He saw Jackal, still seated, with his clothes a bit ruffled. He was breathing a bit heavier than normal but other than that he looked okay. He walked back over and offered to lead the fellow hunter back to the makeshift bed with a concealed smile. Jackal accepted his offer gratefully, and the two packed themselves in the small space. They both slept peacefully for the first time in years.

#the mandolarian #the mandaloria/reader #the mandalorian x reader #din jarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x male reader #din and grogu #grogu djarin #x male reader #male reader insert #male reader #pedro pascal

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lemeduartes · 6 days

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I was at the gym training punches with 5kg halters and a ideia started forming in my mind

Imagine Din and Luke are on a mission together, something to protect Grogu (as usual) and Din HAS to take off his armour for a reason, and then they encounter some stormtroopers and have to fight their way out, but Din is armorless, you would think he is vulnerable, right?

WRONG, he IS NOT, he is surprisingly more of a BEAST then normally, so fucking fast and strong that the imps have no chance against the two of them.

BECAUSE HEAR ME OUT, Din has fought armoured his entire life, THAT AMOUNT OF BESKAR HAS TO BE AT LEAST A FEW KG + You lose mobility with armour! And he learned how to adjust to the weight and everything, so now, without it, he is so fucking faster and stronger that is almost inhumane.

OR.

He is helpless because he can't really move like a real person anymore after years of walking around wrapped in metal.

#I KNOW BESKAR IS LIGHT #But nothing is THAT light #he was pure beskar on his entire body #It probably weights a bit #This is a silly gym thought tho #dinluke #star wars #the mandalorian #luke skywalker #din djarin #fic ideas

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thirstyforcharacters · 10 months

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*The Hunter and the Hunted (Din Djarin x Bounty! Reader)

Summary: You were a master thief who, even when captured, always managed to escape. Maybe, that was about to change.

Warnings: smut!!! 18+ only!!! enemies to (sort of) lovers, hate sex, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, p in v sex, unprotected sex, slight sir kink, humiliation/degradation, mean (ish) mando

WC: 1941

Notes: The Din Djarin fic is here! I had originally had something totally different planned that I ended up hating lmao, and this is fic number two, which I think turned out much better! Enjoy the filth😈

Stealing was second nature at this point. It was all you knew. At first, it was just a piece of bread from a food stand to feed your hungry sister. During the war, it was smuggling secret plans to either side; you got your paycheck regardless of who you did the job for. Now, it was taking large sums of money, treasure, and other important items from the rich. You were always on the run, though you were used to it by now. You had been caught before, but escaped every time.

This time, you were hiding out in the dense forests of Dantooine, far away from the settlements in the grasslands and hills. It was the same routine. Steal, hide out for a month or so until law enforcement and bounty hunters forgot about you, then steal again. You kind of enjoyed when you got to lay low; it gave you time to rest and plan your next move. But it was now sundown, and the lack of electricity on the planet meant that you couldn’t do much after the sun had set. So you quickly checked your traps, meant to ward off potential intruders, then settled down for the night.

You woke up to the sound of one of your traps going off. Silently, you climbed down from your bed, peeking through the window. You could see a tall figure outside, but they didn’t appear to be trapped. Instead, it seemed he purposefully set it off. Cursing under your breath, you knew this was one of the rare instances that you would have to flee. You quickly and quietly gathered your things and slipped out of the back door, clutching your blaster tightly.

Only for you to be slammed into the ground!

You pushed the figure off of you, purely running on instinct as you fired a shot at them. But the shot bounced off of the armor that you could now see. Beskar.

You cursed lowly again. Of course it was a Mandalorian. Though your traps had fooled many, and your fighting prowess defeated those you couldn’t outsmart, a Mandalorian was a completely different beast. One that you weren’t sure you could beat.

In a flash, he shot flames at you, which you skillfully dodged as you fired a few more shots at him. Annoyingly, all of your shots missed as he moved out of the way. Unexpectedly, he shot a whipcord at you. You leaped to the side, almost dodging the attack, but the cord snared your leg! You shot at him a few times in an attempt to keep him away while you tried to cut off the cord with your vibro knife, but he was too fast, pinning you to the ground and using the excess cord to bind your hands.

“Let me go,” you hissed, trying to kick at him.

But he held firm, binding you practically from head to toe. He dragged you behind him, forcing you to leave behind your temporary home and all of your epic traps (which was sad, you spent a long time making those). Though you struggled, he was stronger, and he pulled you all the way to a very old ship. He pulled you up the ramp and shut it behind you, finally letting you go in favor of going to start up the ship.

Manipulating your body within your binds, you managed to grasp your knife and cut yourself free. But it was too late to truly free yourself, for the ship took off before you could open the door. Cursing seemed to be a common theme for you today as your fist landed on the side of the ship in frustration.

Footsteps clambered down from the ladder that you assumed lead up to the controls until the Mandalorian was in front of you once more. Though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel him glaring at you.

“Listen, we both know I can’t go anywhere right now,” you reasoned, trying to get him not to tie you up again.

But he grabbed a pair of manacles and approached you, forcing you down onto a bench. You knew better than to resist.

“You’re the fucking worst,” you spat as he chained you, “I literally can’t do anything to escape.”

“But you could still try to kill me.”

For some reason, the deep timbre of his filtered voice, as well as his close proximity and the way he was able to pull you around like you weighed nothing was doing it for you. You clenched your thighs instinctively, hoping he missed it. But as the rest of your evening had proved, luck was not on your side.

He wrenched your thighs open with his large hands, and you were sure he was smirking when he said, “Is this doing it for you?”

“Of course not,” you lied, trying to pull yourself away from him.

But the Mandalorian held you steady, “You’re lying. Tell me the truth and this might end in something we both want.”

Your thighs tried to close again, but he held you open, fingers brushing higher on the clothed flesh.

“It might be doing something for me,” you mumbled, knowing that this wasn’t a situation you wanted to get out of.

Sure, he was going to turn you in for a pretty large sum of money. But why not enjoy yourself while you still could? Besides, you knew you were going to break out anyway.

“Yeah? You want this?”

“Yes.”

With your affirmation, he yanked your pants down your legs, not bothering to fully take them off.

“Not much time, we’re almost there,” he muttered, pulling off his gloves and shoving two of his fingers into you.

You cried out in pleasure as he groaned, “Fuck, you’re wet. Good thing you are, need to keep things moving.”

“Then just put your cock in me!” you snapped, “don’t waste your time with this part.”

He shook his head, “Have to. I’m too big, I’ll hurt you a bit too much if I try now.”

“Didn’t care much about hurting me when you were bringing me to your ship,” you hissed.

He sighed, curling his fingers and prodding a spot that had you arching off of the seat, “That was different, and you know it. Now shut up and let me open you up for me.”

He punctuated his sentence with a sharp thrust of his fingers, adding a third as you writhed in his grip.

“Shit,” you gasped, “fucking close.”

As soon as the words left your lips, he pulled his fingers out, making you groan in frustration.

“Have to be nice in order to get what you want.”

The remark simultaneously made your blood boil and your pussy wet. Especially when he started pulling off some of the armor that clad his legs. You tried not to gasp when he shoved his own pants down his thighs. You hadn’t believed that he really needed to open you up until this moment: he was fucking huge. The Mandalorian climbed on top of you, lining himself up with your entrance, but making no move to push in. You tried to pull him closer, but your hands were still bound.

“What the fuck are you waiting for? You said we didn’t have a lot of time!” you exclaimed, hooking your feet around his thighs in an effort to pull him closer.

The filtered chuckle that sounded from his helmet made you shiver, “Remember what I said about being nice?”

Your eyes widened, “Are you serious?!”

He pulled away from you, sending the horny parts of your brain into a sex-depraved panic, “Wait, please! Don’t go!”

He stopped his movements, but made no move to come closer. You could feel his eyes boring into you in silent triumph. He knew he had you, the sly motherfucker.

You sighed, slightly in humiliation as you caved, “Need your cock, please, sir.”

“That’s a little better,” he crooned, enjoying the way you squirmed slightly in embarrassment as he lined himself up again, “keep going.”

You cursed under your breath as you begged, “Please fuck me, sir. Never been so wet in my-oh!”

You cut yourself off as he pushed the tip into you. Even that felt big to you, and you knew it was just the beginning.

“That’s a good slut, begging for me,” he growled in your ear, but his voice softened as much as it could as he continued, “tell me if it hurts, though.”

“I will,” you promised, “please keep going.”

It felt excruciatingly slow as he filled you up. You could feel every inch, every ridge, and every vein as he entered you, and you couldn’t help the impatient, yet desperate noises that spilled from your lips.

“Told you I was big,” he remarked as he was fully sheathed inside of you.

“Guess I’ll see if you’re all talk-”

Any further insult you could’ve come up with was cut off with a sharp gasp as he pulled out almost the whole way and slammed into you.

“Oh fuck!”

Each thrust was just as intense as the last, driving you up the bench until your head was almost hitting the metal wall with every thrust. It was almost animalistic; the way his hands crushed your thighs in his strong grip, his grunts into your ear, and the way your eyes couldn’t help but roll into the back of your head. You buried your face into his shoulder, trying to muffle your moans.

“Don’t hide from me, slut,” the Mandalorian growled, one of his hands tangling in your hair and yanking you away from his shoulder.

You sobbed out in pleasure from the pain now pricking your scalp in tandem with his harsh thrusts. You honestly couldn’t speak even if you tried, your mouth permanently stuck open with your whimpers and moans.

“Not so mean when you can’t speak, hm? Maybe you would’ve been more willing to come with me if I had stuck my cock in you first,” he taunted, but you knew he was right.

You couldn’t tell him you were about to come, but the way your thighs trembled and the increased volume of your moans told him everything he needed to know.

Two of his skillful fingers rubbed your clit as the hand in your hair moved to your throat, squeezing slightly as he held you down.

That was all it took, your body spasming beneath him as you came harder than you ever had before.

“That’s it,” he murmured as you fell apart, “look so pretty like this.”

The soft compliment was unexpected, but it added to the pleasure of your orgasm. You didn’t really notice him pulling out and fucking his fist until he spilled onto your thighs. Surprisingly, he disappeared and returned with a scrap of fabric, cleaning the both of you off as best he could. Even more surprisingly, he unlocked your manacles, and you rubbed your wrists where the cold metal bit into your skin.

“Think it might be good to keep you around,” he offered simply before disappearing into the cockpit.

You felt the ship turn in a different direction as you smirked. Once again, you had avoided capture, though this time, you had a feeling you wouldn’t stealing anything else.

He came back down the ladder, having placed the ship on autopilot.

“You know, it might be good to have a business partner. Someone who knows where the criminals hide out so you can get a few more bounties,” you offered.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

You had a feeling you’d enjoy this partnership very much.

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squad-724 · 4 months

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Finally a dragon Anakin I’m happy with.

He’s like Siamese cats, that darken with time, mostly on the face and limbs

He’s a desert dragon, his egg stolen from Shmi, hatched during the transport to Nabooian Kingdom. Qui Gon, one of the dragons pulling the caravan, immediately started taking care of him, until Crimson, then Chancellor’s dragon, killed him. After the incident the humans thought the hatchling will be lost, until the adolescent Obi-Wan, Qui Gon’s ward, began taking care of Ani.

At 9 Chancellor took interest in the young dragon, tricking him into sharing his real name and thus being forced to do Sheev’s bidding. For the next ten years he had been isolated from other dragons and kept in the castle, not trusting any human and refusing to break. Only a full beskar harness and Palpatine’s words can make him do what he’s told

His claws had been cut too short (to not damage the castle’s floor) and is sleeping most of the time he’s not working. Anakin’s a real gem at parties, when drugged and restrained he can’t hurt any guests.

Many men have been injuried while in vicinity of the wild beast. Only when the Red Guard, lead by commander Fox, second prince of the Mandalore, arrived, some progress had been made

#star wars #clone wars #star wars clone wars #the clone wars #anakin skywalker #dragon au #dragon jedi au

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anxiouspineapple99 · 7 months

Text

My hubby and I are doing a rewatch of TCW and the Zillo beast episode was last night and I was consumed by a thought….

Zillo beast but make it Zillow beast.

You’re welcome.

Takes a bow and exits stage left

Ye Olde Ragu: @dystopicjumpsuit @secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino @wings-and-beskar @wizardofrozz @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @eyeluvmusic21 @mythical-illustrator @starrylothcat @starqueensside @the-bad-batch-baroness @808tsuika @mandos-mind-trick @multi-fan-dom-madness @sinfulsalutations @mooncommlink @moonlightwarriorqueen @freesia-writes @imarvelatthestars @clonemedickix @trixie2023 @ladyzirkonia @msmeredithrose @523rdrebel

#i made a funny #zillo beast #but make it zillow beast #the pineapple made a graphic

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darklordofthesimp · 2 years

Text

The Beskar Beast I (Din Djarin x Reader)

CHAPTER 1

Next Chapter

A Beauty and The Beast Retelling.

Summary: The Beskar Beast of Nevarro had been a living legend that both protected and terrorized the planet for years. A creature of the night, shielded from the sun and his enemies by beskar armor, requiring a blood sacrifice every two years to keep his bloodlust sated. There were plenty of women on Nevarro, and the likelihood of being chosen was slim- though, you supposed you'd ruined your odds when you accepted the deal to take your sister's place as his offering.

After all, what better reason to die if not for love?

AN: It's here and the second chapter is already written, this my new obsession.

Rated: 16+

Warnings: Swearing and mild violence.

Every planet had their own legends and lore; some basted in a terrible history and some straight out of the babbling mouth of a child- but there were always stories.

You’d heard of fantastical beasts that fed on radiation, living beneath the earth of a distant planet. There were creatures that lingered in deep space, attacking pilots with haunting screams that rendered them paralyzed.

As far as mythological monsters went, you felt as though you were well versed in most.

But the Beskar Beast of Nevarro, the horror that plagued your own planet, you knew next to nothing about.

The armoured monster that required tithe and sacrifices in order to appease, the being that both protected your world and terrorised it through legend, he was nothing but a scary story in your bank of knowledge.

So when the Grand Magistrate, Greef Karga, called for the town to gather for the biennial draw, you were equally as scared as you were intrigued.

Your sister hissed from beside you as a particularly large Trandoshan barged into her, tossing the small woman into the disgruntled couple before them.

“You’d think there’d be a little less excitement and a lot more fear today,” she muttered, dusting imaginary lint from her shoulder. You raised a brow, humming in agreement.

Kalea was right. There was an electric buzz settling over the congregation of Nevarro, you could feel it licking up the length of your spine and forming a pit in your chest.

Every two years, the Magistrate would draw a name from a golden tray, an offering to the Beast- a human sacrifice. Every two years, a woman would die a violent, needless death in the name of superstition, whisked away to never be seen again.

You’d never been chosen in the years that you had come of age, a blessing that you didn’t take for granted, but this year anxiety closed your throat tightly.

Breathing didn’t come easy and you could hear the blood rushing through your ears as an eery reminder of what it would sound like spilling onto the floor.

“Ease up,” Kalea nudged you with a smarmy grin, “the chances of us being picked are near impossible.”

Nevarro was a haven for all those that lived there.

It was well protected, it was abundant in resources, the economy was booming and the trade was phenomenal. The crime rate was the lowest in the galaxy, (regarding populated planets), and you could live a comfortable life.

This was the debt owing for such luxuries.

And, of course, women were the ones paying it.

There was a hush over the crowd, a sudden silence so loud you could hear a pin drop.

“Good morning, citizens of Nevarro!” The Magistrate boomed joyfully, throwing his hands up in welcome.

Irritation pulled in your chest at the sheer arrogance of a man so entitled, so well protected, that he could smile in the face of another person’s death.

“Today is the day,” he nodded, a charming grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Today, we offer a sacred gift, a gift so precious, that we humbly present to our Mandalorian protector.”

There was a gasp that rippled across the crowd, a shuffle of feet as people leaned away from the podium. You could almost hear the trepidly beating hearts of the women surrounding you over the awed crooning of men.

“What’s happening?” You murmured to your sister and she could only offer a shrug as you both strained to see over the crowd.

There was a brilliant flash of silver that had your heart leaping into your throat. Your fingers closed around your sisters wrist tightly as Mandalorian armour appeared within your vision.

The Beast was here.

He never came.

There was an unearthly stillness across the crowd as the monster approached the podium, slowly and carefully. He was huge, taller than life and impossibly broad, hidden behind a visor and impenetrable metal.

You’d never seen it before, never been in the presence of the Beast of Nevarro.

And you never wanted to be again.

“Shall we start?” The Magistrate looked the monster for approval, who scanned over the crowd slowly. You sunk behind the man in front of you, making yourself look as small as you possibly could. Finally, that terrible helmet inclined in a clear and concise nod, an antclimactic movement considering it signed the loss of someone’s life.

The Beast reached down, plucking an upside down piece of paper from the tray without so much as a second thought. There was no hesitation in the movement but for a second you thought you saw his hand waver when he handed it to the Magistrate to be read aloud.

The Magistrate cleared his throat with a grin, and then he spoke.

The words were a buzz, none of them holding the sound of your own name. The relief that ran through you was severe and overwhelming, rushing so fast through your chest that you felt like you could cry.

But it was short lived.

There was a terrible, wheezing gasp from beside you.

You turned to your sister, who stared ahead with an empty, trepid gaze.

The name that had been called was not yours, but it had been Kalea’s.

There were guards pushing between the both of you before she’d even had the chance to speak. They shoved you back, your body falling into the chest of someone who held you up with a kindness you could not acknowledge.

Kalea began to scream, just as you began to choke.

“No!” She rasped, struggling against the soldiers that held her tightly. “Please!”

You felt your feet move before you commanded them to.

“This strong young woman has the honor of offering herself to the Protector of Nevarro!” The Magistrate celebrated but the words were a distant murmur in the back of your mind. Your eyes were fixed on your sister, your chest was tight, there was water in your lungs and blood in your mouth and you couldn’t breathe. Nothing was right, this wasn’t right.

“No,” the word shook from your lips as you blindly stumbled towards the gap in the crowd. “No, no, no.”

She was all you had. She was your responsibility. She was your sister. She was your duty.

This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t happen.

“No,” you wheezed louder, eyes fixated on her flailing body.

“Stop this!” You shouted, shoving one of the guards that held her. You don’t remember approaching them, you don’t remember crying, you only remembered Kalea’s fear fuelled wails and the promise you’d made to protect her.

It was an oath that you didn’t plan on breaking.

“This is an honor,” The Magistrate reinforced, staring down at you with a raised eyebrow. His gaze scanned the people gathered for a short moment, as if gaging their reactions.

“Liar!” You snarled, swiping at the guard again. This time the soldier turned to face you as the other wrestled your sister. Before you could react, he’d shoved you hard and the breath was knocked from your lungs. Your back hit the ground with enough force to blur your vision and the world around you went silent. You wheezed as you rolled onto your stomach, tears welling along your lashes. You couldn’t lay here, you needed to move. You needed to help her.

The best you could achieve was forcing yourself to your knees, keeled over and panting into the dirt. The crowd was silent, the Magistrate was silent, and strangely enough, Kalea was silent.

Brown, leather boots stopped within your line of sight and you felt your chest seize. The Beast said nothing, he didn’t prompt you to look up, he didn’t touch you, he simply stood there as though he belonged.

But he didn’t belong and you were surprised he hadn’t killed you already for your insolence.

Bile rose up into your throat and your lip trembled.

Finally, you forced yourself to slowly look up at the monster from your place on the floor.

Every ridge of his armour was purposeful, his cape was clean pressed, the beskar was polished and you couldn’t help but marvel at how pristine the creature was. The pit in your stomach reminded you that he intended to sully his clothes later with Kalea’s blood.

You finally stared into the visor of his helmet, knowing that the monster beneath was watching you right back.

“Please,” you begged death incarnate. “I’ll do anything.”

He said nothing and your skin prickled beneath his heavy gaze. You knelt before the Beast, hands gripping the sand and watching it slip through your fingers, just as your sister was. Tears wet the dirt as you pressed your forehead into the earth, sobbing through your teeth. “Please.”

“Take her place.”

You jolted, snapping your eyes up to meet his through the visor, “yes.”

His voice was nothing you had expected it to be, soft like a lover’s caress. You had just agreed to die in your sister’s stead but your mind was on anything but that. You felt as though you’d been poisoned, your thoughts lagged, your body was on fire and you couldn’t breathe.

“No!” Kalea screamed, writhing in the grip of Greef’s soldiers. “I’ll go! I’ll go!”

But the Beast was watching you now, head tilting slightly to the side as he appraised you. Your skin felt hot but your mind was numb. This was so much, this was too much. He was going to kill you, you hadn’t even stopped to think before you’d spoken, the word ‘yes’ falling from your lips with such ferver and desperation that you knew it had to have been the right answer.

“You would take her place?” The Beast asked, his voice a rasp that made your blood freeze in your veins. “You would be mine?”

“My life is yours,” your words were barely a whisper but he seemed to have heard them perfectly. Immediately he set into action, turning on his heel and gesturing at the guards.

Your body shook so hard you thought you might have been having a fit, tears tracked your cheeks and a cold dread dripped down the length of your spine. But, despite all, relief was still the strongest emotion you could identify.

Kalea was safe, your oath had been maintained.

“No!” Your sister screamed as the soldiers let go of her, they’d aquired a new target and it appeared to be you. You couldn’t stand in your condition regardless, you couldn’t run, you could barely breathe- but they didn’t care.

“Let me say goodbye,” you rasped as they heaved your body from the floor. “Please, let me say goodbye.”

“You are to be delivered to the Mandalorian immediately.” The guard spoke in a soft but stern voice, had you not been so disoriented you would have heard the sympathy in his words. Kalea wailed from her crumpled position on the floor, dirt marring her face and clothes. You felt almost numb to her pain, the panic subsided into an emptiness you couldn’t describe.

There was no struggle as you were thrown into the speeder and you didn’t fight when the vehicle began to move. It was done, the decision had been made. This was it.

You were paraded through the crowd like a prized trophy, the face of every woman solemn with relief and sorrow. You couldn’t blame them for the solace they found in your death, the consolation they took in your sacrifice. After all, that had been you in that crowd for years, watching the speeder drive on through and breathing easy as it left.

The Magistrate offered you a nod, that stupid, embellished grin nowhere to be seen now that the eyes of the town weren’t on him. They were on you. But you wouldn’t look at them anymore, you couldn’t bear the relief in their eyes. You couldn’t bear the sounds of their voices. You lowered your head into your hands, blocking out the noise of the crowd, the soft murmurs and the prayers.

You acted as though the world was silent.

You pretended you couldn’t hear Kalea, as she sobbed your name.

And when the speeder finally picked up pace, you didn’t turn to look at her one last time.

It was easier like this.

Want to see more? Message me to be added to the taglist!

Taglist:

@lexloon @ct-1777

#din djarin x reader #star wars #din djarin #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #beauty and the beast #disney retelling #disney #belle and beast #the beast

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second-axis-point · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Din Djarin x Male!Mando!Reader

Warning: None!

Content: Fluff

This is from Din’s perspective so the reader has a nickname. No use of y/n. Hope you guys enjoy!

Partners

“This is Grogu, Grogu this is…”

“Jackal. Nice to meet you little guy.”

Din watches as he leans down and reaches a hand to Grogu who giggles happily and grabs one of his gloved fingers.

“You can get to know him after we get out of here. For now you should get familiar with the controls and layout of the ship.”

“Y’know it would be easier for both of you if you just picked him up.”

He heard Jackal stifle a laugh as he bent down to pick up the clingy child. Once he had Grogu securely in his arms, he continued on behind Din.

“What’s wrong?”

Jackal asked, genuinely concerned. Din looked up, and got an idea.

“Do you trust me?”

Din asked the man in front of him.

“With my life.”

The ease with which he said it made Din a bit dizzy.

“Sit tight.”

“Is this okay?”

Jackal was the first to pull away for air but Din didn��t want the kiss to end. He moved down to pepper Jackal’s neck in love bites and small kisses. Din felt a groan rumble in the back of Jackal’s throat. He finally pulled back and listened to the other man pant in the darkness. Din started to stand up but before he could, Jackal grabbed his hands once again. Only this time he pulled Din towards him.

“It’s alright Din I’m okay. But maybe we should take a little break for today.”

#the mandolarian #the mandolorian x reader #din dijarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin x male reader #male reader #x male reader #x reader #reader insert #male reader insert #i love pedro pascal

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theravenclawlover · 2 years

Text

🎃Kinktober Day 30🎃

Day Prompt: Master & Slave/Teratophilia/tit fucking

Word Count: 1,624

Warnings: +18 (MDNI), dark!Din (?), sexual content, blowjob, slave/master dynamics, the reader is a slave, accidental voyeurism, Stockholm syndrome (? the reader has a thing for Din so idk), takes place during the first season because Din still has the Razor Crest, and my shit writing as usual.

A/N: This is just me really wanting to suck off Din, also this is shit but the type that still has a kick ya know?

Dark!Din Djarin x GN!Reader

You had no family, no family name to carry as you were the child of a common whore. And your mother had gotten rid of you by handing you over to be raised as nothing more than a slave. And that implied of all sorts, so to you, it was no surprise when one day—out of the blue—you had been ‘gifted’ to a Mandalorian who had saved your people from a ferocious beast. He’d been in the passing, and he’d been paid for his time. Credits and you.

He'd tried to not accept you, knowing what you were by just your clothes, but your old Master had pushed for it, making you sound like a fine meal when they treated you like the leftovers eaten by the street animals.

Ultimately, the Mandalorian gave in and took you to his ship. And now, many cycles later, you were still under his ownership. With the way he’d tried to refuse at first you wondered now if it all had been a mild courtesy to seem not too thrilled about owning a person. Because he was more than happy to boss you around, telling you to clean, cook with what he found, and help with his child whenever he had a job. And to make sure you didn’t think about running for it on whatever next planet you landed, he’d put a collar on you, and wrist bracelets that would shock you if you stepped out of the ship.

But oddly enough, you knew you couldn’t run. Not because you had a soft spot for the little green creature that cooed at you to be picked up or to just watch you cook. No. You stayed because there was something about your Master that intrigued you, something that made you stare at him and his shiny Beskar armor, something about his deep and distorted voice when commanded you.

It was odd, but maybe it all had led you to this moment. Maybe all those questions of why you had stayed were being answered right now.

You hadn’t meant to disrupt him, it was routine for you to check for any mess the child had made in the cockpit. How could you have known your Master had removed some of his armor that covered his pelvic area, reveling black clothes underneath that allowed him to take out his cock, to then grab it and tug at it until he gasping, trying his best to not let any distorted sound carry so you knew.

And when you had walked in, you had seen just how close he’d been—if the twitching and rapid breathing were any hints.

But he saw you, and he let out a cuss, stopping in movements to look at you through his helmet, and it had rendered you motionless. Not even watching him masturbate had shocked you, but his eyes on you had sent a shiver down your spine. Your hands were in fists as you tried to pant as it settled on you that you were turned on. Watching him had turned you on, and his gaze on you with his hand still around his hard and wet cock had only made you feel what arousal was meant to feel like. Or at least you guessed as your intimates were throbbing like they had become a beacon to anyone that could hear it.

You didn’t move, and neither did he. But as you attempted a meek apology, he leaned back against his chair, spreading his legs even more. Exposing to you more of his cock and his hands began to give small and slow strokes.

“Kneel.”

It shouldn’t have made you feel like it did. You’ve been ordered most of your adult life to offer relief to anyone who saw fit, and all those times your stomach had felt sick, but his simple command had made your throbbing more difficult to ignore.

You moved to kneel between his legs, making sure not to touch him as you did. You tried to look nonchalant as you stared at the dick in front of you, all slick with saliva and precum, all pent up from an unfinished chase to orgasm. Your mouth watered as you pictured yourself sucking him clean when asked you to swallow, or maybe he’ll just make it land on your face, your tongue catching whatever it could before you dared to lick around your cum-stained lips.

A distorted hum made you look up, and your mouth shut closed. You hadn’t even noticed you had it slightly open as your tongue poked out to lick your upper lip in thought.

“Eager to please your Master?” he said in a mocking tone, voice deep but labored as his pace picked up just a notch to tease himself.

“Yes, Master. Always pleased to serve you, Master,” you said like you meant it, and maybe you did. Perhaps you meant it here. Not when you were cleaning grease stains, but maybe whenever he decided to use you again because there had to be, you needed it to be.

“Good,” he stopped and gripped his cock, and his other—still gloved—hand grabbed at your chin bringing your face closer to his crotch until you could practically feel the heat of his body. “Open up, slave.”

Your mouth opened quickly, tongue sticking out as if to you ask him to use you however he liked. Your eyes were hopeful and needy.

The Mandalorian gave a dark chuckle as he tapped the tip of his cock on your tongue, and as he groaned at the contact of something other than his hand, you moaned while your eyes fluttered.

He tapped it a few more times before he pushed it in, letting hit your throat. Your eyes fluttered as you suppressed the need to gag, a moan erupting instead to match his groan.

“That’s it,” he moaned, his hands grabbing at your head as he moved to test how good you could take him, little by little forcing you to take him until your lips were touching his pelvis and your nose was buried in the curls of hair that remained slick and wild. Your hands gripped at your shirt as you sucked. Practiced moves helping you please in ways you hadn’t cared much for, only learning to spare yourself insults of horny men. But now you were trying to show off, make sure just how good of a slave he had, how good you were for him. No one to replace you.

After minutes of him putting you to an initial test, he pulled you back all the way, and you gasped, taking in all the oxygen you could. Your cheeks were wet from tears, the corners of your mouth slick with spit and pre-cum. Your tongue darted to clean it off out of instinct to get rid of the stain. Your tastebuds were received with more saltiness, drowning yourself in his taste.

Without a warning, your Master pulled you back, and this time he didn’t hold back. It was time for him to finish what you had interrupted, and it was only fitting that you helped with it.

His groans and moans were loud and deep through the codifier, making it feel like it rang in the enclosed space, and all you could do was take everything he was giving you to the point of feeling and hearing nothing but him.

His fingers dug into your scalp as his hips snapped every so often as he fucked your mouth, saliva now spilling down your chin to your shirt, your hands clawing at your thighs as your hips moved against nothing in search to qualm your throbbing needs.

“Such a good slave, kriff, takin’ my cock so well, so eager to please your Master, ready to take my cock like a good pet.” You moaned and whined as you nodded your head, a choked moan escaping him. You were doing so good.

When his thrusting and bobbing of your head turned erratic, his cock began to hit deeper down your throat and this time the gags couldn’t be held back. But the panic at your mistake felt uncalled for when your Master threw his head back, a louder groan as he hit your throat again. Another gag was pulled from you, and he seemed to look for that, and as you cried and moaned like a wanton whore, you quivered in need. For him.

A groan of a curse left his mouth as he shoved you down his cock to keep you there. The pulsing of his cock in your throat was obscene as you tried to not choke and move, swallowing the ropes of cum being dumped inside of you. Your nails dug into your skin through your pants as you felt air cutting short, but then your Master was pulling you back with a harsh tug.

You gasped loudly as you coughed, tears escaping you in relief, need, and whatever else your body couldn’t quite comprehend at the moment.

“Show me,” he demanded as he brought you close, pulling your head back to lift your head for him. You opened your mouth, sticking your tongue to show that you had taken his cum.

“Good, slave. Very good,” he let go of you, fixing himself as you remained on your knees and expecting his commands.

“Thank you, Master.”

“Off you go,” he said. You moved to stand, a small feeling of disappointment as he hadn’t needed more from you. And you opened the door to go down, he called back. “Finish whatever you must before coming back to me. Naked.”

The throbbing reassumed, and you clenched your hands to hide your eagerness.

“Yes, Master.”

#theravenclawlover #Kinktober 2022 #Din Djarin #The Mandalorian #Din Djarin smut #The Mandalorian smut #Din Djarin x reader #Din Djarin x reader smut #The Mandalorian x reader smut #Star Wars

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gingerlurk · 8 months

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Lovers' Crest | Chapter 5: The Family

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You make some hard choices. Din makes a relatively easy one.

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), canon-typical violence, eventual smut/filth, post season 3, canon-typical violence. Creepy cousin. Reader gets a backstory and childhood nicknames. Smut: Masturbation (m). Uhhhh please advise if there's more to add here thank you

A/N: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, A03. Thank you for reading!

You’re being escorted down an ornate hall, in a daze, drowning in emotion. You’d been near catatonic since the moment your Uncle had declared you a bride-to-be, to be sent to a neighbouring system to enshrine an alliance and propel his domain to new heights. To be sent into the belly of a beast.

No one cheered or made herald at the announcement, but they did clap politely and recite the Family maxim: Accipe quod debes.

Take what they owe.

They’d all known. Every one of them knew this was going to happen and they’d let you walk into it without warning. Even Avon.

You haven’t felt this lost since you were newly orphaned, walking these halls for the first time without your mother beside you. When the air splits apart with warning bells, you barely react. But your retinue freaks out. Despite being apparently skilled household personnel, they turn into a squabbling mess of panicked shouts and confused orders.

Through their frantic cries while pushing you down the hall, you ascertain that it’s raiders. Organised criminal units from the quarries, with highly trained assassins known as reapers. Murmurings of their plot to attack the Estate have been reported for some time but ignored by your hubristic Uncle. No way would they attack here, they wouldn’t dare.

You round a final bend and your group meets a furious assault.

Your senses sing to life, and you start to move.

The Mandalorian thunders up a flight of stairs three at a time. He shoulders an elaborate garden gate out of the way so hard it careens off its hinges. Hallways flick by as he searches for you, thinking on a loop, never should have left her, never should have left her, never should ha--

He rounds a corner and it’s like being thunderstruck.

The glittering golden fabric of your evening gown spins up a storm in the hall. In the frenzy of at least three reapers being tossed left and right by the gold whiplash, he makes out your figure. He sees you take one of them in hand and use the leverage to leap into an almost tender embrace in the attacker’s arms before hurling your weight down and converting it into a savage throw.

The sprawled figure doesn’t gain any purpose before glimmering wisps of expensive fabric are secured around his neck as you heave upwards. You don’t let go until the body is too heavy to carry.

A second reaper charges at you but you stay hunched until he’s about to barrel into you, then you straighten suddenly and he careens high. As he sails over you, the last of your luxurious skirt goes across his airway and you jerk it across your shoulder with a snap. The body thuds to the floor, neck lolling.

Din watches you drop the dead weight to the ground and sag against the wall, heaving. Without hesitating he makes his way toward you, so frantic as to miss your shoulders tense and your sigh of resolve as you ready for more fight. When you whirl with an almost staggering rage, he stutters, but your eyes clear in recognition instantly.

‘Thank fuck it’s you.’ You throw yourself into his hard, unyielding façade with a puzzling lack of care. Strong arms circle and squeeze his waist and he sucks in a breath. Din doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so after a moment he pats your upper arms a few times. His heart is battering itself against his beskar armour and he prays you cannot hear it.

You look around him. ‘Where’s Grogu?’

As if on cue, the kid bobs around the corner, making a beeline for you. He babbles a noisy string of sounds as you crouch to tug at his ears. You look up.

‘Follow me?’ It’s a question. Din smoulders, picking up the child.

‘Lead the way.’

You run.

‘Wait!’ You skid to a halt in front of a door. Mando stops, looking back. ‘Can you open this?’

‘Do we really have t—’ He cuts himself off and moves to the door, scrutinising the keypad. He holds the edge of his gauntlet against it. A loud bang with a puff of smoke obliterates the instrument. He locks his stance and reefs the door sideways one handed.

‘Subtle,’ you say, stepping inside your Aunt’s antechamber.

Your Aunt is a cold and distant shut-in who relates more to chemical suspension processes and program matrices than people. Among many predilections of hers is a fascination with formulating alchemical and nano compounds of varying purposes and effects.

It remained a mystery just how they were used, but few rivals and detractors stayed in the political landscape for long around here.

She also took great delight in displaying her creations.

You take down a dainty, glittering bandolier. Once slipped over your head, the thing is double lined with tiny capsules from collarbone to navel. You turn to a nearby drawer, tugging it open to withdraw a tiny sidearm, an obvious custom job. You feel about yourself and find a spot of fabric such in which to tuck it.

Somewhat armed, you feel a little better. You duck passed Mando leaning against the doorframe and sense him straighten up to follow.

You’d grown up on these grounds, so you knew the ways to take to avoid the worst of the bedlam erupting across the Estate. A few scuffles and several minutes pass before you slow; the three of you edge to the hangar opening and peer in.

From the shadows, your heart sinks. By the Crest stand a couple of household guards, some hangar grunts and, pacing furiously between them, your cousin, Avon. Cracking knuckles with a face of fury.

You study the scene and have a tiny battle with yourself, reaching a conclusion that elicits a pained tug in your chest. You turn to Mando.

‘I have an idea.’

Avon waits by the ship with his cobbled together retinue. If that creepy bounty hunter tries to take his cousin back off this rock, as is his suspicion, by damn is he going to make sure she stays put.

Plus, the chaos wreaking havoc would be a great cover to dispose of that weirdo.

As if summoning said chaos, he whirls at the sound of a deafening explosion to see the aft hanger start pouring smoke. From the haze he sees her sprinting towards him, barefoot, gown in shreds and face alight with terror.

She barrels into him and starts shrieking. ‘He’s here. He’s here! He’s right behind me!’

Perfect, Avon thinks. He wraps a protective arm across her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry,’ he tells her. ‘You’ll never have to see him again.’ He juts his chin to the party. ‘Head him off, do not let him into this hangar!’

The men turn on a deferential dime and scurry toward the obscured opening.

His cousin spins in his grip and grasps at his shoulders. ‘He’s dangerous,’ she stammers. ‘Are you sure those men can handle it?’

He hates seeing her upset. After all these years. Even though he knows he can’t protect her from his Father’s plots, he’ll still try. He pulls her into a hug and she burrows into his chest, hands clasped between them in a frightened little prayer. ‘Oh please, oh please…’

‘Relax,’ he puts a hand in her hair, head resting on top of hers. ‘You’re safe, Sunbeam. You’re not going anywhere tonight, hear me? They’ll take out that sicko and we’ll turn his hunk of junk into scr— urk!’ A painful spike radiates from the side of his neck and begins to burn a path across his whole body.

What? Confusion and vertigo assault his senses. He feels himself falling, the fire being followed by numbness, by nothing. Puhh… He strains to look up through vision being splotched with black and red and sees the face of his cousin, his little Sunbeam, a look of grief painting her features. Then he sees nothing at all.

You keep a tight hold on his shirt front with one hand and the little vial with the other. When you know the toxin is doing its work, you let the glass cylinder fall and grab at a shoulder, crouching slowly to the ground with his folding body.

Laying him down as gently as possible, you kneel next to him to whisper a pathetic little ‘sorry’.

You don’t get to keep vigil very long. The Mandalorian strolls from the dissipating smoke, your loop of toxic weaponry draped over a shoulder, to make his way to you. After a moment’s observation, he leans down. You feel his cloak drape across your shoulders. Oh, you’re shivering. Grogu appears beside you to put a gentle little claw on your hand where it’s dropped by your side.

Mando pulls Avon’s unconscious body across a hefty shoulder. Moving to the bench seating running along a wall, he lowers the body there, orienting him so his airway is unobstructed.

It’s so simple. And you’re so grateful you could cry. He turns back to you.

‘How long will he be out?’

‘A couple hours, I think.’

‘Ready to go?’

It’s not even a question between you.

‘Lead the way,’ you say.

Hours later, Din fidgets with an aggressive restless want, but tries to still himself enough to sleep. Shifting in the pilot seat, propping a knee on the console, he tries to clear his mind, let his thoughts wash over and away down the current.

Yet he can’t stop thinking back to earlier.

That particular section of hyperspace had been almost devoid of starlight, so the dim glow of the cockpit’s instruments mostly reflected its interior back at the three of them, huddled in separate trains of thought. Din couldn’t resist taking the chance to look back via the reflection, telling himself he’d just be checking on her.

She still had his cloak wrapped across her shoulders – the bandolier by then hanging in Din’s weapons locker. She had her knees drawn up and curled into herself, knuckles tensed against dark fabric. She seemed to be gazing into the black. It was hard to tell just going on the warped glass of the windows, but he’d been sure she was crying.

‘Hey, you okay?’ Kicked himself the instant it passed his mouth.

Kicked himself again as he saw her rub hard at her eyes and cheeks, pushing away as much emotion as humanly possible.

‘Oh, yeah,’ she sniffed. ‘Yeah, yep. Okay.’

A few blistered exhales out.

‘Just trying to figure how he could have simply sold me off like that. Down the river of greed and power and wealth. My own uncle, guardian for nearly all of my life.’ She’d scoffed, run a hand along the bank of inputs beside her and stood.

‘Guess family isn’t really worth much these days,’ she said, so sadly. ‘Accipe quod debes.’

She’d twirled the cloak off of her shoulders and draped it carefully over her vacated chair.

‘I’m gonna-- Is it okay if I go get some sleep?’

‘Cabin is all yours,’ he’d said. Then after a beat, added, ‘As long as you need.’

Now, he’s fighting a tight, hot compulsion to storm into that cabin and drop to his knees beside you. Offer himself to you; let you take anything you want.

He recalls the sight of you slipping that ribbon of multicoloured vials across yourself, adjusting it against the golden fabric hugging your torso and hips.

You’d looked powerful. And so damn beautiful.

Fussing and fidgeting for another few minutes, Din finally tells himself that he’ll never settle unless he releases the pressure. It’s just biological functioning, he lies to himself.

Huffing with embarrassed surrender, he nudges at his belt and pants until his cock is free. Rock hard and leaking already, he closes his eyes and lifts his chin while rubbing two fingers over the slick head. Maybe holding his gaze away from it won’t make what he’s doing feel quite so damn wrong.

He fists himself in his gloved hand and makes long aggro stokes – half pleasuring, half punishing. The snick, snick, snick of skin under friction fills the cockpit. He works at himself and barely manages to keep the vision of you at bay, a luscious glowing vision of breasts and ass and hair and lips.

And clever eyes, and quick hands, and laughter like music.

Din switches his hold to use two fingers and thumb, focused in on the frenulum. Efficiency now. Just finish it.

The feeling of your arms wrapped around him fills his mind’s eye without invitation and he grunts, cupping his free hand to take in his spent load. Panting for a moment, he tucks himself away and grabs an engine rag to wipe his glove off. He stuffs it into the top of a boot, to discard later.

Leaning back, he doesn’t feel that much better, but his eyes do feel heavier and he is able to slip into a restless slumber.

Waking with a start sometime later, Din automatically moves to check on the kid – his higher functioning taking time to engage. He’s halfway to Grogu’s little space before it all floods back.

He lets his shoulders slump in shame. Then they rise in concern.

Grogu’s space is open and empty.

‘Kid?’ Din calls. Nothing. ‘Grogu?’

A soft little ‘ehhh,’ comes from your cabin. What the--?

Din moves to the door that’s half open and glances in. You’re on your side facing away from him, blankets pooled at your waist and your sorry excuse for a dress barely covering your back and shoulders. But Din scarcely notices that, because Grogu’s big ears tweak and his shy face peers over you at him.

He’s been curled into your side.

‘Grogu,’ Din whispers. ‘Come here, leave her be.’

The child frowns but edges up into a crouch, grunting a little with effort. As he moves, your arm falls softly away to rest at your side. You’d been holding him in your sleep. The shame in Din’s chest turns to a sharp ache.

‘S’okay,’ you mumble, voice thick and weary. ‘He can stay if he wants to.’ You don’t turn from the wall and Din only just catches your next words. ‘S’nicer than being alone.’

This is all too much. Move into action, that’s what he knows how to do.

‘We are going to make a landing soon. Nowhere special but thought getting you some- some actual clothing was in order.’ You start to roll toward him, but he doesn’t think he can bear the sight. So he barrels on, ‘Just head up when you are ready. We will make it quick.’

He spins and stalks away.

Mando had left you wrapped in a blanket seated in the cockpit to head into the tiny settlement he’d found. You’ve no idea of the customs of this place or what their fashion is like, but Mando had also said he’d take you to Navarro where you could get a more substantial and useful wardrobe.

The choice of planet confused the hell out of you, and you’d said as much. But he’d haltingly explained that he had some land there. A modest home. An in with the local law.

You were fucking floored. Just when you thought you had some small measure of the man.

You stare out across the alien landscape and think.

‘Alright, here’s how this’ll work,’ you shift your crossed arms and instead plant them on your hips. The surprisingly well-fitted tunic and pants combo Mando had picked up for you casts you with an imposing silhouette and you’re thankful for it.

You’re proposing something crazy and you desperately want him to say yes.

Mando hadn’t offered to take you onto his ship again, but he also hadn’t made any indication he was planning to leave you somewhere either. You’d tuned up his diagnostics panel without asking and he’d simply nodded in thanks.

Was this just a thing now? Did he think you were onboard as a matter of course? Or was he afraid? Afraid that you’d reject him again?

Reject his offer, you correct yourself.

So you’d decided to be the one to make the arrangement formal, and then some.

You approach him while he’s doing maintenance on his Amban sniper, the Crest’s hold open to cool evening air and a bright twilight. He’s giving you his ‘passively listening’ posture, so you just steel yourself and get on with it.

‘There’s only so much I need to be doing on the upkeep of this old girl,’ you put a hand to the side of the Crest. Mando’s head snaps up. ‘And Grogu will usually either be with you, someone you trust, or just fine here. I don’t need to be like his babysitter or anything.’

The baby totters on a nearby rock, waving his short arms at a group of fireflies hovering overhead. ‘Ah!’ he squeaks in wonder, and sits hard on his butt.

You smile. ‘Not that I wouldn’t mind spending all day with that for entertainment. But you already have your ways of looking after him. And I also get the sense he can look after himself…’

You sweep your hand across the ship’s hold and turn to him. ‘So where does that leave me? Lounging around while you’re on jobs? No thank you.’

The man in front of you is as still as stone. You take a breath and lunge into your proposition.

‘So I’ll partner with you, on jobs.’

Mando gives an incredulous huff. But he tilts his helmet in what you believe is an ‘intrigued’ kind of gesture, so you push on.

‘You know I can handle myself. I can be useful to you. I’ll learn, maybe increase the work…’ you trail off, your words sounding painfully silly all of a sudden.

A pause so long the twilight has turned to dusk. Grogu trudges in and settles into his pod with little huffs and grunts. Din watches him with what you see is a deep softness.

‘Okay,’ he finally says. Wow, that took a lot less persuading than you were prepared for. ‘On a condition.’

Oh.

He slides the rifle from his lap and stands to clip it back into its holdings. Then he steps toward you.

A chill hits you and you shiver in your two-piece ensemble.

‘I have seen that you can handle yourself. There is no question there,’ he rasps. You shiver again, less from the cold this time. ‘What I would like you to tell me is… How?’

‘Huh?’

‘Those cards, the ones you say you hold to your chest.’ You swear his head dips slightly, like he’s looking down to where he just mentioned. ‘If you tell me about some of them and your answers satisfy me... We may have an agreement.’

‘May?’

‘That is the current offer.’

You sigh. You want this. Just do it.

‘Which ones would you like to know about?’

‘Where did you learn to fight the way you do?’

Oh good, an easy one.

‘Well for all my Uncle’s many, many shortcomings as a guardian and father-figure,’ you look down for a moment, feeling sad. ‘He did have a strangely strong desire to ensure I could defend myself. Sort of disconnected from how he really saw me in the end, and I doubt he ever paid any attention to the instructors I requested and the lessons I took. But he let me seek out and train with any master I could find.’

You smile. ‘I loved it. It was one of the few nice parts of my upbringing.’ You look up, shrug. ‘And in subsequent years, I’ve travelled a lot, not always in peaceful parts.’

You wait, Mando gives you a small nod.

‘Okay.’

‘Any other cards to flip for your pleasure?’ You’re pushing it. But you’re baring yourself so you’re feeling pushy.

‘Languages. I have seen you fluent in several.’

‘Oh, that’s just rich schooling.’

‘Right.’ Mando seems to gather himself. ‘That makes sense. One more card then.’ You try not to let your shoulders tense. You know what he’s going to ask. ‘The one thing that your… wealthy upbringing does not explain… is how you know your way around ships so well. Especially old class models, like the Crest.’

There it is. The hard one.

You contemplate lying. But you figure he’ll see right through you. So you straighten up, turn to look out into the darkness, away from his stare, and tell him what happened to you.

‘My Uncle may have conveyed a… jovial and floral air in his dealings. But politically, strategically, he was a fucking animal. Everything about his outward appearance was a calculated contrivance. Anything was fair game.’

You catch his nod from your periphery, as if he’d figured this out already. Fine, keep going.

‘One of his most secret and vicious weapons was my Aunt,’ you murmur, going back into that place and time you’d spent so long trying to push away.

‘You saw what she liked to do with compound alchemicals. It was a hobby of hers that she took into her “work” of contributing to the prosperity of the Estate and Uncle’s power lust. In the case of that particular undertaking, bumping off threats.

‘Another project she had dedicated years to was ways to make the workers of the Estate… well, not the best they could be really… But the most skilled, the most efficient, the most knowledgeable in their field. Elite and untouchable, to give her and Uncle’s empire its edge.’

You decide you may as well sit down, and lower yourself to the floor, knees pulled to chin. You sense Mando shift and retake his seat.

‘In one of her many… experiments, she worked with a mind flayer.’

‘How would—’ Mando cuts himself off. You don’t turn, just continue.

‘A modified one. Augmented to… I couldn’t begin to understand the fuckin’ tech but basically, to implant stuff. Programs she’d design to dump all the necessary know-how, skills, background, or whatever, whatever was needed for whatever job needed doing.

‘It was known to be painful, and dangerous. It rearranged neural pathways, forced the brain to change to accommodate the new stuff. Sometimes people went mad. Others died.

‘I was a kid, fascinated by the workers who would go into that room and come out dull and glazed. It was also highly secret so of course I wanted to see.

‘One afternoon, when I thought my Uncle and Aunt were off at some function, I snuck in. Didn’t touch anything at first, just, just poked around some. I um, I tripped and like, activated it. It freaked me out and I screamed. Turns out my Aunt wasn’t out and she burst into the room, furious.

‘In this- this fit of fury she grabbed me, shoved me into- into the beam of the thing. Held me there. I was probably screaming, trying to fight, but to tell you the truth I don’t really remember it all that well.’

You stop to swallow a few times, willing the tears to leave you alone. The stoic presence beside you is a strange comfort.

‘I was in a coma for weeks. They thought I might not wake up at all. But I did, and I had uh-’ swallow, breathe. ‘I had lost a lot of my memory, of my early life… My uh- my mother… and her voice.’

But there it is, burning tears make you stop and you cup your face in your hands, still trying to breathe deep so you don’t go do something stupid like sob. You rub at your face and look back out into the night.

‘Anyway, what was up in the lil’ ticker was a hypercharged datadump of the last program that had been loaded – ultraclass gunship mechanic with pre-empire specialisation. The poor sap who’d been awaiting that particular implantation was intended as a gift to my Uncle, a surprise from my Aunt for his vain little vintage ship hobby. I think they both always resented me for ruining it.’

You huff an exhale and feel oddly buoyant.

After a while, ‘I am sorry,’ Mando whispers. ‘For making you share that.’

You decide to tell him the truth. ‘S’okay,’ you say. ‘Kind of feel a little lighter from the telling of it.’

You feel compelled to tell him something else, something you’ve never told anyone: ‘The strangest part though, even though I know I have this skill with ships because of the program dumped into my under-formed brain… It’s almost like there’s more going on. Sort of, like… preternatural. Like ships speak to me or something. It’s weird.’

Okay, that was probably an overshare.

‘Uh, never mind…’

But he speaks. ‘Your skills with tech go beyond ships – programming, electrical…’

You shrug, ‘One takes a kind of logical path into another, I guess...’

He nods.

You sense the approaching rush of a decision from Mando. He’d leaned way forward as you were talking, but now he straightens.

‘We have an agreement.’

Your head snaps up to him.

‘We have an agreement?’

‘Yes.’

You smile. The growing darkness of the outside encloses your little patch of light as you and your companion look to each other.

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#remembered the break #the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #mandalorian and grogu #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

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