cw: cnc (consensual non consent) roleplay, bondage, one slap, a little anal fingering
A rough pitch of the ship sideways has you sliding on the dirty floor and you knock into the bulkhead, cursing under your breath. You can hear metal creaking and you wonder if the cell door will break at this point, half-amazed this bag of bolts is still in one piece. You wait for the course to even out and for the engines to whine and jolt as you make the jump to hyperspace before crawling to your feet and walking the two steps to the door, giving it another try. It’s still hinged on tightly and you jerk it a few times with your bound hands, not wanting to draw too much attention to yourself so your captor won’t notice.
There’s clanging above you and you grimace, shrinking back the few steps it takes to get to the solid wall behind you as you see the Mandalorian dropping neatly down a ladder and then turning to regard you. He’s fully clothed, as you’d expect, his armor glinting even in the ratty and blinking light of the interior of his ship, and he walks towards your cell with such a swagger to his gait that you can’t help but swallow hard. You instinctively try to reach for your blaster at your hip but you’ve been disarmed before being thrown in here, including the knife that you keep in your boot and the second sidearm you keep tucked into the back of your pants. You knew the Mandalorian would be thorough, of course, he wouldn’t make any mistakes, and you press yourself backwards a little bit the closer he draws, a little tendril of fear threading through your stomach.
“You ready to tell me what I want?” he says, his voice sounding annoyed, filtered through his helmet.
You shake your head and he looks at you, his gaze piercing even through the visor. He shifts minutely and you can see the power in the flex of his muscles, the absolute grace of it as he strokes along his sidearm and then keeps moving, into a hidden pocket in which he produces a key.
“I could let you go, easy,” he says, holding it up, his head tilted to the side and you frown, knowing it wouldn’t be that easy.
“No,” you say, and the way his helmet tilts down slightly as he stares at you makes you go even weaker in the knees.
“No?” he repeats, taking a step forward, and you set your jaw, prepared to fight. You have no idea what he looks like under that shiny armor, but you bet he’s smirking and you’d like to punch it right off of his smug face.
“No,” you repeat more loudly, and you push off of the bulkhead as he takes one more step and then puts the key in the lock of the cell.
“Good thing I don’t need your permission for this, then,” he says, turning the lock and swinging open the door, and you take your one moment of opportunity to swing towards him with your bound arms, hoping to knock his hands away and elbow him in a soft spot where the armor isn’t covering him.
He steps to the side, obviously anticipating your attack, and easily catches your hands, spinning so you’re pinned up against the bars and his beskar is pressing into your back and thighs uncomfortably from behind.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he says, the smoothness of his helmet right against your neck, and you shudder, overpowered and trapped.
“What’s the easy way?” you quip, wondering why when you’ve clearly lost the power struggle already.
“The easy way,” he says as he manhandles you away from the bars and then pushes you until you’re on your knees, his hand on your neck, his glove warm and his grip tight. “The easy way is you do exactly what I say. And you let me get exactlywhat I want from you.”
You struggle at his words and all you get for it is your head forced to the floor and his hand on your hip, holding you in place as if it was nothing. The steel of the floor is cold and hard, his armor just as unyielding at your back.
“Do you want to know what the hard way is?” he asks, and you shake your head into the floor immediately.
“Good girl,” he says, and he lets up the pressure but doesn’t let go of you, rolling your body so you’re on your back and blinking up at him.
He bends and grasps your wrists, stretching them up above you and then unhooking and rehooking the binders around a bar of the cell. You struggle against him but he’s just stronger than you, and you bang them against the bar, making a racket. Then he settles down on you, sitting on your hips hard and before you can even think about it he pulls his hand back, giving you a stinging slap right to the cheek. You immediately feel tears spring up, your face smarting as you bury it in the side of your arm.
“I guess it’s the hard way, then,” he says, pulling you by the chin so you’re looking up at him looming over you.
“No, wait,” you say, going limp beneath him, trying to keep your tears from slipping down. “Please. What if I tell you the information you want?”
“You gonna give it up so easily?” he says, dropping your chin so he can run a hand down your sides and hook into your waistband, which has you shuddering. He takes a gloved finger and runs it along your stomach, upward just a little bit so it slides under your linen shirt, and you twitch, trying to get away.
He laughs a little, his voice filtered and tinny, before sliding up the rest of the way, taking your shirt with it. Then he hooks his thumbs under the base of your bra, sliding it up too, and your face flames as he pushes it up, exposing you from navel to chin. When his hand moves you start to struggle again, the fight renewed as his leather-covered finger circles a nipple and then he pinches you there, making you bite your lip to keep a gasp from escaping.
He sits down on you harder to keep your hips from moving and bucking him off, and he’s so kriffing heavy on you that you can’t do anything but twist in his grip. It’s not helping at all though, just making him play with you more, like he’s a cat with a mouse he’s tormenting before making it a meal.
He slides down your body, sitting on your knees now and pinning you down as he makes quick work of the buttons on your pants, ripping them open as soon as he can and then yanking them downwards. You cry out a little as your ass hits the cold steel, almost unbelieving that this is happening. He has to get off of you to get your pants the rest of the way off and you kick a bit though it’s half-hearted; he has you bound and mostly naked and there’s no one who can hear your cries. It’s just the two of you and he can do anything he wants.
“Wait, please,” you start to say, thinking maybe some begging might appeal more now that brute strength and cunning is not an option. “Please don’t.”
But he’s taking your legs and spreading them, kneeling between them so they’re resting on his armored-thighs, and you bury your head in embarrassment as you’re spread so wide open to him.
“Please don’t what,” he says as his hands inch down your thighs. You squeeze them together but it’s like you’re doing nothing, his hands too strong, his thighs spread between yours so you can’t bring yours any closer together. You can’t help but get wetter the longer he stares at you and you’re dreading him touching you so he’ll feel it there, feel how much you want this.
“Don’t,” you whisper, your breath catching as his thumb skips on your skin and then it’s suddenly against your clit, pressing into you hard and then making a rough circle that has you crying out. He lets you go just for a second and you see him taking off one glove before coming back to you quickly, the contrast of his soft skin this time making you moan. You bury your face in your arm again so you don’t have to watch, but the sensations are enough, are too much, and then he’s holding your thigh up with his one gloved hand and searching downward, gathering the wetness at the opening of your pussy and spreading it messily before sliding inside with one finger.
You stiffen and moan, your legs wanting to spread but you clench instead, trying to make it tight, to force him out, even though you know that’s not possible.
“So wet,” he says, and it sounds so dirty in his filtered voice, like he’s some kind of emotionless robot. He crooks his finger and your body jerks and you suddenly hate him for it, for this wetness between your legs and for making you feel anything at all, the absolute bastard. You feel the fight renewed in you and you wriggle your hips, kicking at his shoulders again. He catches one leg easily, pinning it to his waist while he wriggles in a second finger into you, making you moan again and slap your hips to the floor.
“Remember, sweetheart,” he says, swirling his fingers and then pulling them out to flick against your clit and make you squeal. “There’s the easy way.” He plunges back inside, this time with three fingers, and you feel full, so full, and yet not full enough. “Or.” He slides out, the sound wet as the fingers withdraw, and then he’s sliding them down further, teasing against your asshole.
You absolutely stiffen up as the tip of one edges in just a bit, holding your breath and muttering, No, no, please no.
“Or the hard way,” he says, sinking in further, until his finger is swallowed up to the first knuckle. You buck against him but it only works the finger in further, his thumb finding your clit and making you go mad with the pleasure of it. You pull against your binders, your body stretched taut, completely at his mercy.
“No,please,” you say, your voice broken at this point, and when he pulls his finger out slowly and you feel something much larger brushing against you, your eyes fly open. He’s still clothed, still has his blasted helmet and armor on, his pants open just enough for you to see his cock pressed against your thigh. He pushes inward with a grunt, holding your legs open so you can’t squeeze him out, and the blunt head of it is big, too big. He works it into you slowly, his hands behind your knees, and you throw your head back and close your eyes as you feel him entering you.
You’ve had sex before but not ever like this, not tied up in some bounty hunter’s cell, bound and forced, and he’s so big it’s making your eyes tear up again. You can feel the pull on your shoulders as he works you down on it, your mouth hanging open and grunts punched out of you with each little thrust as he goes in deeper and deeper. You think it can’t get in any further but then he pulls you up onto his thighs and it slides in that little bit more. You groan, feeling so full for a moment, exasperated, like it’s so deep it’s up to your throat.
And then he starts to move. You realize before that he was being kind because now every stroke is rough and deep, his cock driving into you again and again as you cry out. You’re so slick, your body so hot, his armor heavy and cold against you still. He shifts so he can get on his hands and knees above you, tilting your hips for a better angle and then snapping back to it. You can only lay there and take it, trying to keep in your moans but completely unsuccessful when he reaches between you to rub roughly at your clit with his un-gloved hand.
You’re saying something, you don’t know what language it is, but you’re not sure if your pleases are for him to stop anymore or if it’s for him to make you come, and when he tilts your hips up and rubs his thumb against you, you feel your orgasm wrenched from you without conscious choice. Your body stiffens and you throw your head back, wincing as you hit the cold steel a bit too hard.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he says, and you’re annoyed that his voice is cutting through your orgasm, you didn’t do this for him, you can’t help it if he just has a particularly nice and skilled… Your thoughts cut off as he rubs harder at your clit, bringing you right back to the edge again, the razor sharpness of it almost hurting as you ride through a second wave, biting your teeth against it and pulling on your restraints.
He grunts above you, his voice tinged with pleasure through the filter, and then you can feel his hips stutter and wetness between you as he comes hard. He lets go of your clit to hold onto your hips, pressing himself as deep as possibly to you, his head tilted back. You suddenly wish you could see him naked, to see what he really looked like beneath all of that. Was he handsome? Was he hideous? With that cock and those fingers, did it really matter?
You both heave in air, the sweat and come pooling between you and leaking onto the floor, and he gathers himself after a moment to ease out of you and then lean up, undoing the clasps of your binders. You draw your hands down immediately, rubbing them, and smiling fuzzily when Din curls up next to you, taking them between his hands and inspecting them. They’re only a little red, you’ve seen much worse— in fact Din’s done much worse to you.
“I’m good,” you say to his unspoken question, and you can practically feel the smile from under his helmet.
He’s turned into goo on the floor, his orgasm wiping him out apparently, and the two of you fiddle with the binders before flipping them over to the side of the cell. He pulls you into his chest and his armor still feels cold against you, but his breathing is even, his embrace strong.
“Was that the easy way?” you tease, curling into him more.
“You want it the hard way next time?” he says, and you can hear the lazy smirk in his voice. You wish for the millionth time you could see it on his face, but you know that’s how it is with him. If you want him, this is the way you’ll get him, for now.
“Maybe,” you chuckle. You shift again, feeling dirty and used, in the best way.
“I’ll surprise you,” he says, and you full out grin, tugging his arms around you tighter. The beskar grinds against the floor and your skin and you know you’ll have to get up soon, but you have a minute now to indulge in this. You enjoy the feeling of Din rubbing the blood back into your wrists and you twist in his arms, bringing your forehead to rest against his helmet and holding it there for a moment, feeling lazy and warm.
A/N: Part 2 is here lovelies! I hope you all enjoy, and as always feedback and reblogs are much appreciated! Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! Have a beautiful day!
Summary: You’re a dangerous wanted fugitive with a hefty price on your head who escaped your home planet from persecution and picked up the job of being a bounty hunter. To keep yourself away from the eyes of those after you, you were currently hiding out in a small planet mostly ran by outlaws and bandits, that is until another certain bounty hunter lands on your trail.
You had just left the cantina much quicker than you had wanted and your mind was racing with the thoughts of what had gone down just inside. Right when you had arrived on this planet in hopes of keeping low and staying away from the eyes of those who wanted your head, those thugs had managed to ruin your plans and exposed not only your presence but also what you were capable of, which caused your stay here to be at risk. You just hoped that your little fight didn’t reach anyone outside the cantina.
It was a hot day and the air was dry, and the aroma of spices, sweet fruits, and roasted nuts from the street vendors filled the air, perfect for the desert-like climate. You wished you could rip your helmet off, indulge in the exotic smells this market had to offer and enjoy some sunlight and breeze on your skin for once. But you had your regular getup on, or your bounty hunter uniform, as you like to call it. And though the pieces of armor provided you with secrecy and protection, adding some bulk to your frame to make yourself look more masculine to conceal your feminine features, it was also a bit of a cage, confining you from the natural perception of the world. The dusty wind blew against your frame when you had stepped out on the street, making you clutch your cloak closer to you and pray that the wind didn’t pick up on speed in fear of it snatching away the helmet and revealing your face for the whole town to see. You were making your way to the edge of the town where you had parked your ship on the outskirts, your boots kicking up the sand around you with each step you took while the hem of your cloak blew behind you. A few of the townsfolk had glanced in your direction, paying no mind before going back to their business. Their town always had outsiders crossing through to the point they had become accustomed to seeing a new face or a new helmet. And as long as you weren’t causing any trouble, they did not seem to pay much mind, if anything it was more curiosity towards the travelers.
You had been focused on the path in front of you, your back straight and your head held straight forward and avoiding any type of eye contact with anyone until this uneasy sense came that someone was following you. To avoid making it known, you stopped by the nearest vendor, glancing down at the fruit laid out on the table before ever so slightly turning your head to see a glint of metal shrouded just barely behind the mass of people that walked the streets. Your eyes widened behind your helmet. You could recognize that armor from anywhere. What was a Mandalorian doing all the way here? More importantly, why was he following you and who sent him?
You cursed under your breath at the sight, turning around and thinking of the different possible strategies. You couldn’t outrun him no, as much as you would like to avoid tangling with a Mandalorian you had heard so much about, you couldn’t just run away, he’d catch up with you somehow. No. You would have to fight him, at least keep him held back while you revised a new escape plan and disappeared into a new planet. You continued to mutter fowl words under your breath, your eyes darting around trying to search for an alleyway to disappear into. You finally caught sight of one just a couple feet away, gradually picking up your pace as you headed straight towards it, sensing the Mandalorian doing the same. Some muttering of the locals had erupted around you as you pushed past them before reaching the alley. With the sound of the sand crunching beneath the soles of your feet, you made a sharp turn right around the corner, pressing on the cloaking button on your belt that made your cloak camouflage with your surroundings. Your appearance shifted in a flurry of pixelated tones before matching the colors around you, allowing you to disappear into your background. You jumped up and grabbed the nearest ledge on the wall, using a window frame to hoist yourself up on it, pressing your back flat against the wall while your feet barely balanced on the beam.
The Mandalorian had turned the corner not long after before stopping abruptly at the emptiness of the area, the positioning of the buildings blocking some of the sun’s rays and casting a shadow over him. Your eyes caught the glint of his blaster held tightly in his hand as he edged closer with careful steps, staring out at the dead end of the alley. A small curse escaped under his breath through the helmet as he scanned over the area to figure where you might’ve gone. You followed the darkness of his visor right as it passed right over you, the action making your breath hitch in your throat. You knew your cloaking device made you invisible, but for a moment you swore you felt his helmet burning right through you. Your heart was pounding in your chest from what felt to be hours as he went further into the alley, looking out for any possible place you might be hiding. From how hard your heart was beating in your chest, you feared he would hear it as he passed by in front of you.
Oh come on. Now is no time to be a coward. Fry him. You thought with your eyes closed shut as you desperately struggled to grip the sandy wall behind you in order to keep yourself from falling over.
Carefully keeping your balance, you slipped your revolver blaster out of your holster, your palms sweating beneath the leather fabric that covered them as your fingers closed tightly around the grip, making sure to be as silent as possible as you pointed it at the back of his head. You could taste the salt on your lips from the few drops of sweat that fell down from your forehead as you lowered your aim to the small opening just below his helmet where the fabric of his cloak covered the back area of his neck. Just one shot. It would be simple. Just one shot and he would no longer be a problem for you to worry about.
No, this wasn’t right. You still had some dignity left in you and shooting a Mandalorian in the back would be a cowardly move. If anything, he deserved a fair fight. But despite that, deep down, a part of you was convinced to let him go free. He was a bounty hunter, doing his job just as you were. And from the stories you heard, sure he was merciless towards his enemies and an excellent fighter at that, but he never harmed those that were innocent.
With a clenched jaw, you slipped your blaster back in your holster. You didn’t have to heart to kill him. Damn your sentiment, it was the one thing that always kept you from achieving whatever it is you could want. Sure, you weren’t going to kill him, but you were willing to knock him out, maybe even tie him down somewhere and threaten him a little to get him to back off your trail. Taking in a deep and steady breath, you jumped off the ledge and tackled the Mandalorian from behind, knocking him down to the dirt before standing back up on your feet. Luckily, you managed to catch him off guard and from the way he reacted, you could tell he was trying to figure out what the hell had just happened as he scrambled back to his feet. You watched him hold his blaster straight out, twisting his body around and pointing it at every direction but you. If this situation wasn’t threatening on your safety, you would have found this to be quite amusing and your snicker would’ve gave you away and gotten you shot on the spot. You’d bet your credits he was confused as shit under that bucket.
You could just walk away and leave, get yourself a new disguise and he would never be able to find you. But a part of you deep down wanted to fight him, test his abilities even. A part of you even found this entertaining, an amusement that you had once been told would one day get you killed.
There was an uneasy silence amongst the bustle of the town, the breeze blowing through the crevices in the building in low whistles until you felt the heat of the sun’s rays against your back, lighting up the alleyway that was once in hidden in shadow.
Oh no.
Your skin went cold as you caught sight of the Mandalorian looking down at the sand, following his gaze to find your shadow on full display at your feet. Shit. You had forgotten that the cloak was only able to camouflage instead of wiping out your solid form and making you entirely invisible, thus making you susceptible to certain factors that gave you away, like light hitting against you or dust being thrown at you.
The Mandalorian stalled for a moment, processing what he was seeing before lifting his blaster and shooting straight at you. You had managed to jump out of the way just barely in time, but not soon enough as a sharp burning sensation cut through the side of your arm. You swung your fist at him, making sure to aim under his ribs and avoid his chestplate in order to hit soft tissue instead of solid Beskar. Your opponent let out a grunt in response much to your satisfaction, but it seemed as if luck was on his side as he grabbed your outstretched arm just in time before slamming you to the ground, knocking the wind out of you. You laid there on your back for a quick second, stunned and coughing from the twisting pain in your chest until a slight static sound caught your attention, looking down to see that your cloaking device was malfunctioning, leaving you entirely visible after a short series of pixelated glitches. Not only that, but the force in which he slammed you had managed to detach your chestplate, the piece of olive green painted metal now lying a few feet away from you, leaving you in just your tunic and the soft padded vest you had on top to separate the roughness of the metal from your clothes.
You muttered a small curse under your breath, pressing a firm hand to your torso as you tried to regain your breath, twisting your body around with a grunt in a struggle to get yourself up until a pair of brown leather boots placed themselves right beside your head. Turning your head towards the sky, you were met with his blaster pointed right at you, the dark hole of the barrel staring right into your soul
“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”
“How about neither.” You snarked, your voice coming out in a low tone through your helmet’s speaker before swiftly propping up on your elbows and twisting yourself against the dirt, kicking his legs out from underneath him and making him fall. You tried to get up but failed as you were once again met with the rough sand as he grabbed the fabric of your tunic and slammed you down on the ground again, pressing his forearm against your chest in order to get you to stay down. The latter action made you widen your eyes in horror. You didn’t have your chestplate on and now there was nothing to conceal the flesh there. You noticed that this had confused the Mandalorian as well from the way he sat back for a moment and tilted his head.
“What the-you’re a-” He breathed out before getting cut off by the bottom of your boot slamming into his head and knocking him back.
You took this chance as a means to escape, twisting yourself around and pushing yourself up with your hands until another pair of hands yanked at your ankles, causing you to fall face first into the dirt. “Ow! son of a-” A pained grunt escaped your lips and you almost could’ve sworn your nose had been broken from the sharp pain that spread through the center of your face. The Mandalorian pulled at your legs, dragging you across the dirt while you thrashed around, feeling his knee press down on your back. Another grunt escaped between your clenched teeth, your breaths coming out in aggravated huffs as you tried to break yourself from his hold once you felt his hands wrap around your wrists and pull your arms back behind you. There was the sound of a click and a small beep, and the skin left exposed on your wrists underneath your sleeves were met with the feeling of cold metal as a pair of handcuffs locked itself around them.
Great, just great.
You rolled your eyes from underneath your helmet as you felt him grab you by your bicep and pull you up to your feet.
“Let go of me!” You huffed as he pushed you, squirming around in his grip while he refused to let go of your arm after the resistance you put up. You noticed that your voice was no longer distorted into a lower tone, which meant that the fall had somehow damaged the distorter you had set up in there, now causing you to sound like your normal self. Could your day get any worse?
“Cut it out.” You heard him order from behind you.
A scowl appeared on your lips as his grip around your bicep tightened, your eyes drifting to the ground and spotting your chestplate laying on the side up ahead. “Can I at least get my chestplate?” You let out a huff as you were only met with silence. “Oh come on. It took me a while to make that you know. Besides, I’m kinda bare right now and I feel naked without it so I really need it. I don’t know if you noticed back there but-”
“Quiet.” He cut you off, causing your nostrils to flare until you noticed him pick your chest armor off the ground, the slight action making a small smirk appear on your lips despite being handcuffed and taken in for your bounty. Of course, you weren’t to going to accept defeat that quick. You had to devise an escape plan quick and wait for the right opportune moment. Though now wasn’t it.
The watchful eyes of the locals were now trained on the shiny armor of your captor, their eyes following the two of you curiously as you went, the Mandalorian and his freshly caught bounty. You were glad you wore a helmet, relieved they couldn’t see the look of embarrassment written across your features.
It wasn’t long before you arrived at a vessel that was parked on the outskirts of town, what seemed to be most likely his ship.
“Wow. What a piece of junk.” You made a snide comment, looking up at the big junk of metal as he as opened the entrance to his ship before shoving you inside, causing you to glare at him through the visor of your helmet. “Hey, don’t manhandle me alright.”
“Keep moving.” You felt him push you forward with his hand on your back.
You took in your new surroundings, glancing around at the dullness of the interior with a distasteful look on your face. “Yikes. You could use some major redecorating, liven the place up a bit. No wonder you’re so grim.”
Silence.
“My point exactly.” You muttered under your breath.
“Sit down.” You felt him place his hand on your shoulder to try to push you down on the chair in his cockpit but you refused to budge.
“Can I at least put my armor back on?”
The Mandalorian stood quiet for a moment and you could almost feel him glaring at you through the slit in his helmet before turning you around and shoving you against the wall with your back facing him.
“Easy there will ya.” You hissed as he fumbled with the lock on the handcuffs. “Geez, is this how you treat all the ladies you bring in here?” A short second later, you felt the handcuffs around your wrist loosen up with a click after the sound of the beep went off.
“Any sudden moves and I shoot.” You heard him say beside your ear before stepping back
“Alright.” You lifted your hands up to your head, slowly turning around to see him standing a few feet away from you with his blaster pointed at you. “No need to be hasty, I’m just going to strap on my armor and that’s it.” You grabbed your chestplate that had been lying on the back of the chair before slinging the leather straps over your shoulder and fastening them, making sure that the metal covered the areas that needed protection. “Before you uh, handcuff me back up, would you mind letting me keep my arms in front of me. It’s kinda you know, uncomfortable having your hands tied behind you while you’re sitting in a chair.
There was another moment of silence, the lack of reply from the Mandalorian causing you to unconsciously shift on your feet before he finally stepped up to you and handcuffed your arms in front of you.
"Thank you for your consideration.” You smiled sarcastically even though he could not see a single inch of your expression.
“Sit down.” He directed in a monotone voice with his blaster still pointed at you, to which you plopped down on the seat in exaggeration.
You let out a scoff and a roll of your eyes as the Mandalorian lowered himself to the ground to tie your ankles to the bottom of the chair so you wouldn’t try to pull anything else. “You distrust me that much huh. Fair enough.” You leaned back in your set, twisting your body around and adjusting to make yourself comfortable as you watched him go over to his seat and start up the aircraft before taking off. You sniffled through the stuffiness in your nose, scrunching up your face from the smell of the blood that had dried up inside. Well it didn’t feel broken, and you have had broken noses before, though your body ached from your fight with the Mandalorian and the quarrel you had with the previous bounty you were after who just happened to be 8 feet tall and full of muscle. Let’s just say you didn’t like being tossed around like you were some stuffed animal. You were positive you had formed new bruises and reopened up the wounds you had just stitched earlier today from the way that some areas felt sore and tender.
“So uh….” You tried to make conversation while looking around for anything that just might help you break free and escape. You had to find a way out, one way or another, and it didn’t help that you were leaving the planet and your own ship behind. “Where we heading?” No answer. “You know, I’d like to know where I’m being sent and just who it is I am being sent off to.” Still no answer. Maybe, just maybe, if you annoyed him enough he might give up and set you free, that trick had worked once a long time ago. But sweet talking would definitely not work on him. “That’s some uh, pretty neat armor you got there. What is it, Beskar? So like how many hours do you spend polishing it?……………………….Okaayyyy then. I see you’re not much of a talker.” You nodded your head awkwardly before looking around again, edging a bit off your seat to get a better look at things.
“Quit moving around back there.”
“Oh. So you do talk, not much I presume. But you talk. I mean, you’ve gotta have said more than a few words in your lifetime, otherwise……….my goodness. Oh and by the way, you kinda messed up my gear, my voice distorter and my cloaking device are broken because of you and I believe I should receive some kind of compensation.” Ah yes more silence. You hated him already. I mean, you respected him, you’ll give him that. You just hated being with him, tied down to a chair with nothing but the sound of the aircraft and your own voice. A part of you even prayed that you would reach your destination quicker just so that you would not have to be stuck with him for who knows how long. And the fact that he wasn’t budging was pissing you off. There was one last thing you could do, one last trick. “Well then! If you don’t mind, I’d like to liven up this extremely dreadful atmosphere by singing some tunes. Maybe it’ll…..I don’t know……lift your spirits.” You cleared your throat before singing a tune you had once heard, making sure to be as exaggerated as possible.
“Aruba, Jamaica, oh I want to take you to Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama Key Largo, Montego, baby why don’t we go Oh I want to take you down to Kokomo, we’ll get there fast and then we’ll take it slow That’s where we want to go, way down in Kokomo……………
Tell everybody, I’m on my way! New friends and new places to see! With blue skies ahead, yes I’m on my way! And there’s nowhere else that I’d rather be!!!” You belted out before stopping at the sudden feeling of something touching your leg. “AAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!” You jumped in your seat, your scream even startling the Mandalorian himself. “Yo! What the-” You looked down at your feet with a pale face to see what had grabbed you and being met with a pair of big brown eyes staring up at you, eyes belonging to a small green child with large pointy ears that reminded you of someone you once knew long before. “Oh. Hello there.”
“Grogu?” You heard the Mandalorian speak before turning his head around to face the small child that stood by your feet. “What are you doing there? Stay away from her. Go back to bed.”
The child tiled his head and let out a small blabber, his tiny fingers clutching around the fabric of your pants.
“He uh……he likes my singing.” You muttered out in sheer disbelief of there being a youngling aboard the ship, and not just any youngling. Something about him felt different, but you couldn’t quite figure it out.
“He what?” The Mandalorian now looked up to you. “You……understand him?”
“………Kind of?”
“Grogu. She’s dangerous. Go back to bed okay?”
The small child lowered his head in disappointment before waddling off as you watched him go with a softened and thoughtful look in your eyes. You tried to remember where you had seen him, if you had anyways. He reminded you so much of a mentor you once had, and you were saddened by the thought.
“What is he doing here?” You questioned before turning to stare at the back of the Mandalorian’s helmet, your reflection only staring back at you. “What purpose do you have with a youngling?” You leaned back in your seat when he provided no answer, the frown on your lips only deepening as you stared out at the stars that blanketed all around from the view outside the window. You had to find out why he had the child with him, whether it was for a bounty or whether he was just under his care, you did not know. And when you do, once you found an escape, you’d take him with you.
A/N: I was working on this story a long time ago and thought I’d start on it again. Hope y’all enjoy! Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated and let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list.
Summary: You’re a dangerous wanted fugitive with a hefty price on your head who escaped your home planet from persecution and picked up the job of being a bounty hunter. To keep yourself away from the eyes of those after you, you were currently hiding out in a small planet mostly ran by outlaws and bandits, that is until another certain bounty hunter lands on your trail.
You were always the lone wolf, a ranger who wandered planets, a person without a destination. Your occupation was your own, you worked for yourself and no one else, and you preferred it that way. Due to your line of work, you lived plentiful off of bounties and even some quests that were offered to you. But most of it came from assassinations, which was one thing you never admitted to being proud of. You were an excellent marksman, if not one of the best, but your morals meant more than the money and caused you to be very selective over what hits you were willing to take, choosing to only go after the truly guilty ones. Because of this, you refused to be part of the Guild and turned down many requests in the past offering a great sum of money. You weren’t exactly very popular with the Guild since they considered you to be an undisciplined rogue who ignored the rules and had no right doing what you did, so you stayed on the low and made an effort to avoid running into any of their members.
Due to your distant past, you’ve felt that being invisible was better than being seen. Which is another reason why you did what you did and avoided as much interactions as possible. Knowing people and forming relationships was just a way to tie you down and keep you in a cage, an obligation and somewhat a burden. Acquaintances were fine but heavens forbid that formed into an actual relationship. People have expectations and you wanted none of it, not again at least. Not to mention you were severely betrayed by people you were supposed to trust. If there was another thing you were known for, it was for being a charmer, you knew just what words and tone to use to get yourself out of any situation. But you were also known for your ruthlessness. And if the time came where words did not work, your blasters did most of the talking. But ever since being on the run and escaping the planet you once called home, your life drastically changed and it had never been the same since.
You were sitting by yourself at a local cantina, at a table in the farthest and darkest corner of the tasteless place, away from the rest of its occupants. You had just finished tackling a bounty and it wasn’t an easy one, the bastard had left a few bruises and scrapes so you felt like winding down. Thankfully, you were lucky enough to come at a time where the place wasn’t so rowdy and filled with egotistical idiots making a mess and fighting each other for petty and immature reasons.
You had your head propped up lazily by your gloved hand as you stared down at your glass of liquor, swirling it around and watching the ice mix with the contents and clinking every time it hit the edge. You were starting to wonder why you even came here in the first place. You weren’t much of a drinker and you never liked the bitter taste but something about it made you always reach for a glass. In all honesty, you were just ready to go back to your ship and pass out on your bed. One thing was for certain and it was the fact that you were bored and exhausted beyond your mind. You tried to focus on the cantina music in the background, hoping it would help keep you awake while forcing to keep your eyes open. But the warmth of the cantina and your cloak that was draped around your shoulders, falling over your arms and torso to provide extra comfort, was not helping.
You rarely ever let your guard down like this and this was not a good thing. The place was already sketchy as it was with all the bandits and thugs that would come through.
A group of footsteps were heard approaching your table, each one in a different tempo than the rest, the sound making you snap yourself back into a conscious state. You straightened up against the leather seat once you caught sight of a thug walking up to you, followed by his pathetic little gang of 4.
Ugh, what now? You thought to yourself, rolling your eyes behind your helmet.
You watched carefully for a moment as one of his men made an unwanted advance towards one of the waitresses, grabbing her bottom and turning her around to try and force a kiss on her. The waitress shrieked at the act and squirmed in his grip, pushing away at his chest to escape. The thug laughed at her before loosening his grip, his reptile-like eyes following her as she freed herself from him with tears in her eyes, humiliated, before rushing off to the side in fear where the other workers were.
Why that little shit. You just got to this planet and you already had to deal with assholes.
The leader stopped at the edge of your table, glaring at you while his goons surrounded your booth, blocking off all forms of an exit. Slyly, you slipped your hand down underneath the table, gripping your blaster that sat at your hip with your finger hovering over the trigger, ready for any sign of attack.
“You’re in my seat.” The leader grunted at you with his burly arms crossed across his chest, a scowl on his face as he bared his yellowed, troll like teeth against his grimy scaley green skin.
During this exact moment, you thanked the maker you were wearing a mask so you wouldn’t have to smell the rancid stench coming off from him. The last thing you wanted was to puke in your own helmet. Who knows who long it had been since the asshole and his goons had bathed.
“Really?” You snarked, your voice distorted through your modulator to make you sound like a man, your voice low and gruff. You adjusted your cape so that it was not covering your arms anymore as you leaned back in the leather cushion, putting your free arm up on the back of the seat while kicking your feet up on the table. “I don’t see your name on it.”
The thug eyed your boots, his eye twitching as he watched the caked up dirt from your soles fall onto the table, the small action infuriating him even more. You were slightly amused at his reaction despite being irritated that he had disturbed your space. Who knew dirt on a table would so much as upset someone that probably hadn’t bathed in moons.
“Listen here you little brat.” The man slammed his clawed hands down on the table, causing everyone in the cantina to look over to see what was causing all the ruckus. “Move, or else I’ll break every little bone in your bounty hunter body before picking my teeth with it.”
His goons laughed at the statement, their laughs echoed against the stilled silence of the cantina as they enjoyed the opportunity to bully yet another person around, reveling in the moment and obviously getting off on this sort of attention. The ring leader stared you down with a smug smirk on his face, thinking he scared you shitless and that you might succumb to this sort of threat.
“………..no.” You let out, your voice matching the same stoicism in the details of your helmet.
The goons’ laughter died down from hearing your answer, each of them intently watching their boss’s face contort into anger and anticipating what his next move will be.
“That’s it!” The leader growled between gritted teeth before lunging out at you.
Swiftly, you grabbed his bulky arm with your left hand, twisting it to a certain angle and breaking his elbow, the move making him let out a pained scream. With your right hand you grabbed your blaster and shot him in the head in a quick blast of orange before tossing him to the floor. You glanced over to see that one of the goons had pulled out his blaster and blasted him before he could even pull the trigger at you. After watching their members fall down dead, the rest of the gang tried to charge you, their eyes flared and their teeth gritted in rage. You kicked the table over, making them back up while you jumped over it. One of the goons tried to grab you so you kneed him in the groin before grabbing his head and snapping it. You shot another one and while the last remaining one tried to run away you used your free hand to pull out your knife from your thigh strap and throw it at him, lodging it right in his knee and making him fall to the floor.
All eyes of the local civilians in the cantina were glued to you as you stepped over the bodies, casually walking over to the goon you threw your knife at. You stood there and tilted your head at him, recognizing him as the one who assaulted the woman while you watched him crawling on the ground, leaving a trail of blood on the floor from his wound as he went, unaware of your presence.
Pathetic.
A sigh escaped your lips as you crouched down next to him to grab his attention. The man took one look at you being so close and gasped in fear before struggling to move faster.
You wrapped your fingers around the hilt of your knife, twisting it in the flesh of his knee before yanking it out. The goon screamed at your action before his limbs finally gave away, laying there, trembling in pain.
No one dared to interfere you now. Not when you had taken out 4, soon to be 5 men twice your size.
“You shouldn’t have done that to the poor woman.” You spoke, now you were the one looking down at him.
The man turned to look at you, laughing while he did it and flashed his blood stained teeth. He glared up at you with a disgusting grin that made your stomach turn. “Aye, and I enjoyed every second of it.”
Your blood boiled at his remark, your knuckles turning white underneath your glove from gripping your blade.
How dare he.
He laughed again, knowing he got under your skin from the way you clenched your weapon and started breathing. The air around you at the moment was visibly tense as everyone lingered quietly in their seats, waiting to see what you would do next. You’ve had enough of him.
The man let out a hiss as you grabbed a fistful of his hair between your gloved fingers, lifting his head up so you could speak to him in his ear.
“And now you’ll die for it.” You whispered through clenched teeth before shoving your knife in his head.
Taking your knife back out of his skull, you wiped the blood off on his clothes before sticking it back in your strap while standing back up.
The occupants of the cantina looked away and returned to their food and conversations, not wanting to meet the visor of your helmet as if you could shoot lasers through it. They thought that the simple act of even looking in the direction of this strange outsider would be considered an offense after the way you took care of the local gang. Some of them even had disgust written on their faces from the way you handled the thugs while others had a faint hint of a smile that exhibited their relief.
You walked over to the owner of the cantina who stood behind the counter, his eyes glued to the glass he was wiping in his hands.
“You uh, you handled yourself pretty well over there.” The old man laughed uneasily, not seeming to meet your eyes as if he were afraid to offend you while he followed your movements, wondering what in the worlds you were about to do.
You didn’t respond to the statement as you fished into the pocket of your pants, pulling out some credits from the small suede pouch you had and placing them in front of him.
The owner looked at the credits laid out on the table for him, obviously confused from the way his brows knit together before looking up at you.
“But, but you already paid for your drink.”
“I know. It’s for the mess I made.” You gestured to the dead bodies that were still spread out on the ground.
The owner followed your gesture before looking back up you, relief painting his features once he realized you meant no harm. “Oh. But please sir, it’s not necessary. In fact, I should be the one thanking you. Ever since that gang showed up here in our small town, it’s been near chaos. Please, keep your credits. In fact…”
You watched him with a raised brow as he grabbed a pouch from his pocket and tried to hand you some credits. “Take this as well.”
You eyed the credits in his outstretched palm, pursing your lips before letting out a sigh. “I can’t take this. You didn’t hire me.”
“Please sir, take it. As a token of our gratitude. You saved our little town that I’m afraid no one cares about.”
“Yeah well you need it more than me.” You expressed. “I only accept credits for jobs I am hired to do.”
You kept your own pouch in your hand, nodding a farewell at the old man before making your way over to the waitress who was assaulted. You saw her hiding away in a corner, her small frame held in the arms of her friend as tears ran down her cheeks while her coworkers tried to comfort her.
The workers glanced up at you standing nearby before moving away, allowing you to approach closer. You stood there carefully, looking down at her fragile frame and gently placing a hand on her shoulder. The poor woman jerked in reaction before looking up you, her teary eyed filled with confusion.
“It’s okay.” You tried to say softly, hoping it would come out sounding compassionate but your helmet didn’t help much with how you conveyed your tone. Instead, your voice came out sounding less loud. “It’s alright.”
The young woman looked behind you, her eyes glancing at her attacker that was now dead before looking up at you with a weak smile. “Thank you.” She sniffled as she wiped her nose with a handkerchief. “Thank you for getting rid of them.”
“Here.” You held your hand out to her and placed some of your credits in her palm. “Take this. Buy yourself something, food or anything. Preferably something to protect yourself with…..and uh…..learn how to use it.”
The woman stood there in shock, staring down at the credits that now sat on the blue skin of her palm. She cracked a small smile, holding back more tears. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Keep your chin up.” You muttered, pressing your fingers delicately under her chin before she caught you by surprise by wrapping her arms around your torso. Your body tensed up at her reaction as you stood there, not really knowing how to react before giving her an awkward pat on the back. She pulled away from the hug and smiled timidly at you, her cheeks tinted as she placed a tender kiss to the side of your helmet. The action made you widen your eyes, feeling your cheeks heat up inside your helmet to the point where you swore they would melt through the metal.
You shook off the feeling and the nerves, nodding at her and saying a polite goodbye before walking out of the cantina, ready to go back to your ship and wash the sweat off your face and escape the presence of everyone. Due to your quick haste to get out, you failed to notice a shadow, a silhouette of a person hidden behind a suit of armor that sat at the back of the cantina tucked away in the other corner. Nor did you catch the glint of the metal helmet that sat on his head, of the Mandalorian that had been watching your every move ever since you stepped foot into the building.
Summary: You’re enjoying life as the live-in nanny for Din, the Sheriff of Everton. Things are wonderful, his son is adorable, and your feelings for him are hidden away entirely. But when someone from your past shows up to wreak havoc on your life again, something happens between you and Din, something you never thought possible.
Pairing: Sherrif!Din Djarin x Reader
Words:1234
Warnings: anxiety, sleepless nights, angst and worry, comfort, fluff, Protective Din
Part 9 of my I Promise Series (thank you to @deangirl93 for betaing the series!)
You had woken up like you had expected, a dream of Jesse getting into Grogu’s room waking you faster than you thought possible. That had been about an hour ago now, if your alarm clock was correct. The red block numbers seemed bright when you stared at them, watching them change, and yet also far too dim, not shedding enough light through the room.
Summary:Din opens up about his past and learns how Amara met Ca’tra
A/N: Hello Lovelies,
Oh our poor beautiful Din and Amara, they’ve both been through so much. They’ve both lost so much, and yet it makes sense that they both understand each other so well. They’ve been trying to keep themselves from being hurt again, which is probably the main reason Din pushed Omera away.
As mentioned in the posting schedule, I may have to switch off between posting Sins of the Father and The Reunion, that will start as of next week, SOTF will be posted next week, The Reunion will be posted the following week. I realized I’m currently working on five stories, not including one offs and mini series. Once I start posting The Gym Membership, Upside Down and The Gym Membership will be on a rotating schedule as well. Sorry guys, but there’s only so much I can do.
Italics - Flashback
Bold & Italics - Auditory Enhancement
Warnings:Fluff, grief, death, explosions, innuendo, off screen violence, threats, mentions of dead bodies, flirting, kissing, I think that’s it, if I miss any please let me know.
Well Din just learned a whole lot more than he expected and he’s about to learn even more. Do you think he’ll be willing to open up more to Amara about his past?
Italics - Flashback
Warning:Grief, angst, fluff, relieving past trauma, kissing, I think that’s it, if I miss any warnings please let me know.
Do you think Xi’an was telling the truth about the bounty on Din’s head? who could have put it there. This chapter is quite angsty, just hang on. Don’t worry these two will have a deep conversation soon, but do you think Amara will tell Din everything right away or what about Din, will he reveal all his deep dark secrets to Amara?
Italics - Flashback
Warnings:Angst, violence (descriptive to a degree), beheading, unwanted flirting, grief, PTSD, mental distress, emotional distress, betrayal, anger, I think that’s all of it, if I miss any warnings please let me know.
Hi, all. Thank you for loving the Just Right universe and our beloveds like you have. I think there’s more to be told for these two, so I am expanding their little universe and adding more. We are starting with this little fic here, which is told from Din’s POV. It gives us a bit more information about their history and leads up to the events in Just Right Part 1. Thank you to @ezrasbirdie who told me I was allowed to bring the pain a little bit.
Just Before
Pairing: Din Djarin x curvy f!reader (eventually); 1.1k words
Warnings: Yearning. Angst. Takes place after Grogu goes with Luke. Leads right up to Just Right Part 1.
**
Din’s sleepless night had slipped into a sleepless morning. It was her fault.
Laura my love…Dins pov was just heartbreaking and beautiful. Your Din in love, even from afar, is still my favorite. The emotional poetry you produce always takes me out at the knees ❤️
We KNOW about the pinky ring () for Javi G, but it got my tiny brain wondering: what adornments do the others wear?
Frankie’s accessories are laden with meaning - dog tags, wedding ring, and the same cap he bought in a convenience store after his first buzzcut. But nasty, oversized belt buckles are his indulgence - the uglier the better - and he grins every single time you roll your eyes at him sauntering over to the belt section of the thrift store.
Weapons might be part of his religion, but like anyone who expresses through their clothing will tell you, he feels naked without them. Like he isn’t him. It perplexed you at first, the amount of time he took carefully choosing them before each and every trip out of the crest - even to visit friends. But then it became a language. Pulse rifle to intimidate, knives to conceal. The darksaber meant he was scared. But the blaster, the blaster was there for him to run his thumb over when he felt out of place, to rest his hand on when he cocked his hip. It was safety.
Joel wears his beat up leather jacket every day of his life, even in the summertime. He also still keeps a wallet in the back pocket of his jeans even after the apocalypse. It’s full of little momentos - a photo of Sarah, a sketching of Ellie’s - and if you open the page, a dried bushel of white flowers you’d tossed his way. It was early on, and he’d scolded you for being so flippant, but secretly tucked the tiny blooms into his pocket.
Dieter wears cheap ass rings from thrift shops and dollar stores. Partially because he’s a creature of whims and cannot resist shinies, but also because he loves telling the rich and famous they’re priceless designer items with a choked back grin.
Javier Peña wears his mother’s long gold chain tucked under the collar of his shirts. He took the pendant off, left it in his untouched room back in Texas, but the chain is warm against his skin. A reminder that he was once whole and loved.
I don’t know. This idea entered my head bc of this post and it rotted away in there. This is just for fun, and I had to get it out. This is a real write-it-and-yeet-it-out situation. Have fun.
The Greenhouse
Pairing:(wait for it) Victorian-era AU gardener!Din Djarin x female reader. WC: 1600ish
Warnings: Smut, PinV sex (unprotected), creampie, a good dose of Victorian shame, Din being a little chatty, a touch of praise. That might be it?
⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹
The summer humidity is hot on your skin as you race through the wet grass, dress swishing as your legs carry you back to the greenhouse.
Oppressive humidity in the dying light of the day, aching beneath her skirts to run to him amid the heady perfume of flowers with that little undercurrent of decay…I can SEE it.
Title:Stepwise Pairing:Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating:E, 18+ Word Count:5.1k Warnings:explicit smut (fingering, blowjob, unprotected p-in-v, cum eating, cum play, mention of ass play), touch-starved Din, possessive Din, somewhat inexperienced Din, soft feelings, references to canon-typical violence Summary: Requests for both soft and smutty touch-starved head canons spiraled out of control and became this.
Din Djarin knows some touch.
He’s versed in violent touch, in touch made heavy by duty. He’s comfortable with the tangled chaos of hand-to-hand combat, the brutal embrace of wrestling a quarry to the ground, the dead weight of a body slung over his shoulder, the strange intimacy of towing someone by their bound wrists from the moment of capture all the way to the carbonite chamber.
if i had any sense i’d wait until i was more coherent to write this comment but i can’t, i have to tell you now, through the flood of tears, how much i loved this
i can’t stop crying, you write din so perfectly, you have such a deep understanding of his nature - of his creed, what his beskar means to him, but how human he is underneath it all
the way you capture din and his emotions has always been beautiful and poetic but you’ve really outdone yourself this time - i really felt how much he wants to be touched but how vulnerable it makes him feel, i loved the small things you chose as the early steps towards intimacy - taking off the armour, a touch to his wrist (remember when that was all the first skin we saw, and we all blushed like victorian maidens?) and how patient they both were with his needs
there were so many wonderful beautiful lines it’s hard to pick a favourite but this? i think this was what finished me off
when Din meets your eyes, a word sears through his chest, itches at the back of his throat, struggles against the cage of his bared teeth: mine. He wants to say it. He likes the claim of it, the implied permanence. Din has never had much to call his own, and that hasn’t ever bothered him. Until now. Until you.
this is truly a masterpiece, one i know i’ll come back to again and again ❤️
I… don’t want to think about how long it’s been since I posted the last chapter. But the next chapter is ready and I’ll probably throw it up in a week. Or maybe over the weekend. We’ll have to see how I feel.
Warnings: Language, Din gets Protective, it’s Moving Day, Peli is snarky.
Word count: 1.7k
Chapter 17: In which there are answers
The pounding finally stopped hours later. Your shoulders dropped once the noise subsided, and you slumped a little. You were exhausted. It had been a long day.
And you still nearly jumped out of your skin in fright when the door opened.
But it was just Djarin, stepping into the room and pausing when he saw you and the child sitting together, and Peli burning low in her logs.
“What happened?” He demanded, striding over to you and dropping to kneel in front of you.
Din was thrilled from the moment you announced your pregnancy, he would sit down with Grogu explaining the responsibilities of a big brother.
When you give birth, he helps you. It was his fault that you were on a deserted planet after all. He feared the worst, but you were strong and so was your child.
When he first held his daughter, she was still covered in blood, but in his eyes, she was the definition of perfection.
Jack Daniels
This wasn’t the first time he was about to become a father, but this was the time he was super cautious. Making sure you were safe at every second, he doesn’t want to go through the same pain as before.
When you gave birth, he was on a mission. He was called by Ginger and he immediately dropped everything. But he was late.
By the time he arrived to the hospital, you were sleeping and so, he let you sleep while he walked over to the glass so he could see his child. And surely enough Jack found him. The only baby with just a last name, meaning you wanted to wait until he was there to name him.
He felt a tear fall from his eyes as he looked at him, he knew he would do anything to keep his family safe.
Marcus Moreno
It was a quiet night, everyone was sleeping when you woke up. Marcus didn’t even move an inch when you got out of bed. You were in desperate need to pee.
But on your way back to the bed, you felt a terrible pain.
Of course, when you woke Marcus up, he was running around like a chicken without a head, thank God for Missy who was able to help you out.
This wasn’t the first time Marcus her his own baby and standing there he wouldn’t want this to be the last either. He cried. Tears rolling down his face while he held his youngest daughter.
Of course, Missy took multiple pictures of him which she planned on blackmailing her father later on in his life.
Oberyn Martell
Childbirth was something he was used to. He had many daughters before you even came into the picture.
But this was the very first time he held a son and not a daughter. It felt special, and as much as he loved his daughters, his heart still felt a different way to see the youngest addition to his ever-growing family.
He swore his entire life to protect him as he would be his rightful heir. You even caught a glimpse of a tear running down his cheek before he whiped it.
Javier Pena
Panic wouldn’t even begin to describe what he went through that day. He thought he would rather go after another Escobar guy instead of going through this hell, and he didn’t even had to do anything. He held your hand and that’s all. You did all the work.
His mind often went to that dark place, that dark place which told him to just run, leave and never come back, but he stayed.
And that dark voice in the back of his head disappeared when he held his daughter for the first time. And how glad he was that he didn’t leave.
Tiny little girl with his eyes. Perfection. He just stood there, frozen as he looked at her. Not even giving her to the nurses when they asked.
Pero Tovar
After your third child you thought Pero would have enough. You thought he would have enough and not want more children. But you were wrong. Two girls and a boy weren’t enough. He wanted more. And you were happy to give him more.
Each birth was more terrifying to him than the last. He loved his children all the same and he just loved you a little more as he held his second son. Each time he was reminded just how amazing you were and it made his heart explode.
Him, a rough swordsman, such a soft and kind father and husband. He never saw himself in that position. As you finally fell asleep, he watched the kids, showing them his youngest, like the proud father he was.
Warnings:SMUT, somnophilia helloOooo everyone I am BAAACK, oral sex, face sitting, cockwarming, domestic kink idk if that’s even a thing but it’s in here, mentions of death, canon typical violence, descriptions of hunting an animal, ends on a cliffhanger, this might actually be the longest most descriptive explicit smut I’ve ever written I was left alone for too long send help
A/N: hiya yoditos missed yall like hell, thanks for sticking with me in my 100+ day long era of broodiness I swear to god I’m gonna fuckin finish this story if it’s the last thing I do
***
Even after all that excitement and adventure, if there was ever one single moment with Din you’d want branded into your memory forever, it’s this one.
word count: 3.5k // warnings: SMUT, vaginal sex, fingering, biting, injury, a lil gore, needle, vaguest hint of a blood kink (you know he has one), space condoms, consent is sexy, din is ooc but he always is in things like this, reader is gn!afab bc work with what you got, swears, overuse of italics, this was meant to just be filthy but some feelings snuck in there idk how, 18+ pls no babies
Smoke clings to the inside of your nose, itching all the way up to your eyes and back down your throat. You’re sure your voice will be hoarse for days after this.
Guild havens never stay that way for very long, there’s always someone who owes somebody else credits and before anyone knows it there’s blaster bolts and punches flying every way you turn. You’ve made it this far unscathed at least, crouched behind a crate in the street, as hunters you’d been laughing alongside less than an hour ago fire off shots at each other in the marketplace.
You catch a glimpse of sunlight glinting off a helmet a little ways down from you, someone without the good sense to keep their fucking head down. Or someone who doesn’t need to.
When you crash-land on a frozen planet on your way to Trask, you and Din work together to keep the Crest afloat and keep your little family safe under the cold night sky.
After a botched raid, you and Javi both need a cigarette. Sitting together on the sidewalk outside the embassy, you find out you both need each other too.
You partied a little too hard with the boys last night; lucky for you, you married a man who’s really good at taking care of you while you’re hungover.
When your move into your first house as Mr. and Mrs. Morales is interrupted by a thunderstorm and power outage, you and Frankie remind each other that even an empty house can be a home if you’re together.
Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader || smut (18+ only) || College AU
High off your asses and half-asleep watching Deep Space Nine, you and Frankie say some things you might not have said sober - but that doesn’t make them any less true.
summary:three hundred and sixty eight days—one standard year—that’s all he agrees to. then you’re gone.
word count: ~4.5k+
warnings:canon typical violence and weaponry, mean!mando for now hehe, hand around neck once (no choking), language, x fem!reader
a/n:this takes place post s2, meaning there’s no grogu (and we are ignoring the darksaber), but there will be plenty of ~other things~ to fill that void. the title comes from a painting of the same name by edward hopper. many thanks to @djarinsbeskar for being some extra eyeballs on this one! gif by @djarsdin.
let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the following chapters. xoxo!
DAY ZERO
A girl—you’re just a girl. Barely a woman.
You stand beside Karga, tendrils of hair framing your face, and Din sees the haughty strength in your shoulders, the iron viciousness in your stare. He sees you—green and gung-ho and itching for a fight—and he bites his tongue to keep from groaning.
His hands clench to fists at his sides. Fuck, he doesn’t have time for this.
