Latest Posts by hyperspace-spicedreams - Page 3

Full Moon {Werewolf!Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: NON-CON, monster fucking, oral (female receiving), anxiety, pregnancy, dead animals, meat 

Comments: You have always been told that you shouldn’t go into the woods at night. That there were things out there that would get you. You just never imagined the stories of werewolves were true. Not expecting to run into one when a late night swim under the full moon beckoned you out of the safety of your house. 

DEAD DOVE - DO NOT EAT : This is monster fucking fic. If you can’t handle the fact that non-con is a part of this, please roll on by. 

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says ’creator chooses not to use warnings’. You also agree that you’re the right age to be consuming anything here.

Your side screams in pain as you run, the stitch getting worse with every step you take. Your breath labored and panted through your open mouth. Stumbling through the dark and only guided but the big, bright full moon that was blessedly low in the sky. Illuminating your path through the woods while the snarls and thudding of more than two feet get closer behind you. 

They had told you not to go into the woods after dark. Warned you since you were a little girl that there was evil in the forest at night. Bad things would happen. Men had gone into the woods, tall, strapping men who were armed and they had not returned the next morning. Never seen again save for maybe a scrap of clothing or an old, rusty dagger. 

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Din Djarin x F!Reader Masterlist

—The Bet - 8.3k

A playful bet with the Mandalorian goes south when you question his hunting abilities. What will happen if he catches you?

—Bred - 6.1k

Mando realizes he has a Breeding Kink

—The Bodyguard and the Betrothed (ongoing)

When a mysterious stranger shows up and rips you away from the only life you’ve ever known, you can’t help but wonder - is your mundane life about to get better?

—Freu(Din)an Slip - 3.4k

When you accidentally stumble upon a rather interesting holovid, you just can’t seem to get it out of your mind. So much so, that you just happen to slip up during a very inopportune moment

— Kinktober Day 31 - Biting (Vampire!Din) - 4k

Din thinks you’re scared of him. But actually, you just really want him to bite you.

Boba Fett x F!Reader x Din Djarin

— Begging for Beskar (1) ///// Begging for Beskar (2)

Okay, if you were being honest, then yes. You had an armor kink. You think maybe he knew it, too.When Din brings you to visit an old friend, you find yourself with more Beskar than you bargained for.

— Effective Comm-unication - 3.8k

Boba makes an interesting call to Din

— Kinktober Day 27 - Corruption - 2.4k

Boba was going to ruin you. Is ruining, maybe, if you’re not already.

— The Bucketheads and Feeling Sick - 1k

Din Djarin x Reader Drabbles

— Inexperienced Din - 1.6k

— Vampire!Din - 1.3k

— warmest wishes. - Holiday Mini-Series

— Three Little Words - 1.3k

— Kinktober Day 4 - Spanking - <1k words

— Kinktober Day 19 - Sleepy Sex - 1.9k words

5 Sentence Fics:

Giving Din a Treat - (Din Djarin x GN!Reader)

Getting Spanked by Din - (Din Djarin x F!Reader)

First Time Going Down on Din - (Din Djarin x GN!Reader)

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United We Fall

summary: Din’s unable to control the Darksaber and accidentally hurts you with it, leaving behind a deep scar on your body and his mind.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader

warnings: canon-typical violence, injuries (incl. severe burn), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

rating: T

word count: 3.421k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

You turn your head to look at Din with a hint of a smile on your lips. “This isn’t looking too good.”

Din tilts his helmet at you and lifts his blaster. “We’ve seen worse.”

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JEDI: FALLEN ORDER APPRECIATION WEEK Day 2: favourite planet

DATHOMIR was a remote planet in the Quelli sector of the Outer Rim. It was the home of the Nightsisters, a witch clan, and the Nightbrothers, who were Zabrak warriors. The planet was drenched in blood-red light from its central star, and had continents overrun by swamplands and twisted vegetation, with forests of bent trees burdened by large, cocoon-like fruit. The dark side of the Force had a strong presence on Dathomir.

For an answer other than both, I'm gonna have to go with Unrestrained *chef's kiss*

Got me horny for that hulk flavor

okay so what's the verdict: do we like unfettered or unrestrained better?? og or hulk flavor??

i'm honestly v curious

Unrestrained

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: Explicit, 18+ Word Count: 8k Warnings: sex pollen and therefore DUB CON, use of restraints, dirty talk, descriptions of previous injuries/blood/violence, masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral (m and f receiving), RIMMING (f receiving) Summary: When Mando is drugged on a job, he begs you to restrain him because he knows he won’t be able to keep his hands off you—but the restraints don't hold. Notes: Thank you to the anon that suggested this alternate version of Unfettered!

Masterlist

You were sitting on a crate in the hull, cleaning your disassembled blaster when the ramp jolted and started to lower with a mechanical whir. You knew it was Mando returning from his solo job—the nav had beeped a little bit ago to announce that he was in range—so you didn’t bother looking up from your task when he strode into the ship.

He slapped the control on the wall and kept his hand pressed firmly to the panel, frozen in place, as the ramp closed slowly. You caught the limited movement in your periphery while you worked, thinking vaguely that he must be exhausted.

“How’d it go?” you asked, rubbing an oily rag along the barrel of your blaster.

Mando didn’t respond. No sigh, no grunt. Nothing.

That grabbed your attention. Mando was never talkative, often relying on one-word rejoinders, but he always answered direct questions, especially from you. Lately, he was even initiating conversations during the long stints in hyperspace between one bounty and the next.

You looked up and were surprised to see that there was no quarry in sight—it was just Mando standing at the far end of the hull, his gloved hand still pressed to the control panel like he couldn’t bring himself to move. He looked… agitated. You could read the tension in his body; the fist hanging by his side was clenched, and his shoulders were drawn up.

“Mando?” you asked, the confusion apparent in your voice, as you set your blaster down and got to your feet.

“No,” he gritted. Without moving from his position, he whipped his head around and held up a palm to halt your advance. “Don’t… Don’t come any closer.”

“What—?”

He pointed a threatening finger at your chest. “Stay. There.”

You were so shocked by his unexpected command that you obeyed, staying rooted to the spot.

That’s when you really took in his appearance: he was shaking, the hand pointed at your chest trembling slightly. His armor was dirty—smeared with what was unmistakably blood—and his cape had a new ragged tear up the side. His chest was heaving as if breathing alone was a herculean effort.

When he saw that you were listening to him, he nodded stiffly and wrenched his hand away from the wall. Then, with leaden steps, he walked over to a large storage crate and dragged it into the middle of the floor. Each of his mechanical movements looked like it required every ounce of his control to execute.

“Why—?”

He grunted, ignoring your question again. You watched in stunned silence as he stripped off all of his weapons, even his vambraces and spare ammo, with stunted, jerky motions and dropped them into an unceremonious pile on the floor next to him. Mando usually spent hours caring for those weapons, so it was jarring to see them discarded carelessly like that.

He crouched and ripped the lid off the crate, letting it clatter to the floor. He rooted around, and when he straightened a moment later, he was holding chains—thick, hefty chains with menacingly large iron links—in his gloved hands. You watched in confusion as he set down the heavy tangle on the floor with a clank and hunted through the strands until he located the ankle restraints. He extracted them and began to fasten them around his own ankles, one at a time. Your jaw dropped.

“Mando, what the fuck are you doing?”

He whipped his helmet up to look at you and commanded: “Help me with this.”

You scrunched your eyebrows together: “Why?”

“Just do it.”

“I’m not going to chain—”

Before you could even finish your sentence, he snarled: “Just shut up and fucking help me.”

You stood there, dumbstruck, and cycled through several emotions in rapid succession. Your initial shock was immediately replaced by irritation as you registered his rude words. Anger flickered brightly across your consciousness, but it was quickly supplanted by confusion: he had never spoken to you in that tone of voice, let alone told you to shut up. Finally, fear settled in, thick and weighty, like a fog threatening to choke you.

You approached him slowly, kneeling on the other side of the tangle of chains.

“What happened to you?” you asked gently, reaching out to touch his arm.

He jerked away immediately, so quickly that he almost lost his balance. He thrust out an arm to steady himself on the wall behind him.

“Don’t—don’t touch me. Please.” His voice was suddenly small, almost quavering.

Your heart rate kicked up again.

“Mando, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s going on.”

He looked up at you, voice slightly softer but still firm and urgent. “Help me with this, then I’ll explain.”

You stared at him.

“Please,” he repeated—beseechingly.

He was begging you. That was when the real fear sank in.

Without another word, you helped him get the wrist cuffs in place. Then, standing beside him, you followed his directions as he instructed you to secure the ends of the four chains: two to bolts on the wall, and two to bolts on the floor. The two on the wall were affixed to his arm restraints, the two on the floor to his ankles. Initially, you left slack in the chains, plenty of room for him to move, but he insisted that you tighten them enough so that his back was almost flush to the wall and he couldn’t extend his hands out any further than the natural reach of his long arms.

He sighed, shoulders slumping in relief, when you clicked the last restraint in place.

You looked up at him. Mando was strung up against the wall of his ship, arms hanging by his sides, suspended about a foot away from his body, and his legs were splayed slightly in a wide stance, boots a couple feet apart.

It was quite a sight.

If you weren’t so worried about what was happening, you’d definitely be having some… ideas. They were completely inappropriate ideas, especially considering the stark reality that the two of you were nothing more than hunting partners.

“Th-thank you,” he breathed. “Now, p-please, step away from me.”

You reluctantly complied, taking several careful steps backward, keeping your gaze trained on his visor.

“Okay, I did what you asked. Now tell me what happened.”

His breathing was still labored. “H-hit with a bio-dart, aphrodisiac drug. Strong… Heard of them before, but never encountered one until now.”

You gave him a skeptical look, raising one eyebrow. “An aphrodisiac drug as a weapon? I thought that was a myth.”

“Apparently not.”

You surveyed him again as the reality of the situation washed over you.

He continued, words spilling out of his mouth in a rush like he was running out of time to explain: “H-had to get back to the ship. Didn’t trust myself. Left the body there. I’ll go back for it later. No-no time to bring it back. I had-had to—before I—”

His whole body tensed suddenly, cutting off his own sentence, and he threw his head back as an ugly sound tore from his chest.

You stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Fuck, are you okay? Does it hurt?”

You panicked, desperately trying to think of some way to help him as he flailed.

He writhed for another moment then thankfully stilled, slowly raising his head to look at you. He sounded wrecked when he spoke again: “No, no. It doesn’t hurt, not exactly. Not yet at least. It’s—it feels like…” He trailed off, glancing toward the floor.

You prompted him: “Like what?”

Before he could answer you, another wave wracked through him, and he thrashed against the restraints. You fought the urge to cross the space and soothe him. Even in the most stressful, life-threatening situations, Mando was always the picture of composure: calm, collected, calculating. So, it was unnerving to see him like this—overcome and out of control. You were itching to touch him, to ease his discomfort somehow. After another moment, he stilled.

When his visor found your face again, he rasped: “It feels like if I don’t fuck you right now, I’m going to die.”

His words hit you like a slap in the face. You swallowed hard, staring at him… all thoughts suddenly gone, mind completely blank.

He filled the fraught silence, straining forward slightly, his voice dipping an octave: “I want to fuck you so badly, baby.”

Your heart dropped at the unexpected pet name, a wave of wetness unapologetically gathering between your thighs.

Fuck. This was not at all the situation you had imagined—Mando drugged and chained up—but you had definitely dreamt of him saying some version of those words to you… on a regular basis, like maybe every night you ever spent with him on the Razor Crest.

He spoke again, trembling as he said: “This is fucking torture, you standing there, looking like that. And I can’t even fucking touch you. Shit. Shit. Shit. I want to—I want to touch you.”

Without your explicit permission, your feet moved you one step forward.

Mando shook his head back and forth violently, helmet jerking like he was trying to clear unwelcome thoughts by sheer force. “Dank ferrik, this is really fucking with my head. I’m-I’m sorry—I’m not myself.”

Only one question came to mind, one thing you were desperate to know.

“So…it’s just the drug?”

You waited, holding your breath, hoping he knew exactly what you were asking him.

He snapped his helmet up, meeting your gaze. He sounded surprisingly sober for a moment. “No. It’s not,” he stated bluntly. “I always want to fuck you. It’s just now I… I can’t control that urge.”

Suddenly, the drafty hull felt hot, suffocatingly so. You inched forward again.

His confession flooded you with courage. “What if… what if I want you to fuck me?”

Mando whined, body convulsing, shoulders collapsing forward as far as they could against his arm restraints. You were so shocked by the foreign sound that you actually took a step back—you’d never, ever heard him make a noise remotely close to that. You’d cauterized gaping wounds for him, removed a jagged blade from deep in his thigh, witnessed him take a blaster bolt to the side, sutured countless lacerations with no local anesthetic… but you’d never heard him whine. It was high and needy, desperate and pathetic as it grated through his modulator.

“Don’t-don’t say that, please… don’t fucking say that to me right now… I c-can’t handle it.”

The chains creaked ominously, the links clanking together as he shifted against them.

“But, I mean it. I always want you to fuck me,” you continued, ignoring Mando’s feeble requests.

You squeaked and flinched back again when Mando suddenly lunged forward, hands gripping the chains and pulling hard. His arms and legs were immediately wrenched back, his beskar-clad torso straining toward you. He panted: “Gods, you don’t know how long I’ve dreamt of you saying-saying that to me, mesh’la.”

Even through his visor, his stare was scalding, his gaze scorching your skin as he surveyed you, helmet trailing all the way down and back up your body.

You stepped toward him.

He jerked his head to the side suddenly, tearing his gaze away, and whined again—more quietly this time, more resigned. When he said the next words, you could hear how tightly his jaw was set: “Not like this. I-I won’t fuck you for the first time like this. I-I won’t forgive myself if I hurt you.”

You took another, much larger step forward.

“You won’t hurt me.”

He whipped his helmet up to watch you again. His voice was dangerous now, menacing, as he growled: “Yes, yes—I will. You don’t understand what this feels like. I can’t control myself—it’s a fucking miracle I didn’t take you the moment I walked back onto the ship and saw you sitting there—so kriffing gorgeous—and it’s only gotten worse.” He let out another frustrated growl, then continued: “I don’t just want to fuck you, I want to wreck you, I want-want to wreck you until you can’t walk and then fuck you again. I want to tear you apart. Ruin you with my cock.”

He said those words like a threat, but you couldn’t help the way they sent heat coursing through your veins, a shiver down your spine. You stepped toward him one more time. You were almost within his reach.

“DON’T,” he ordered, voice deadly serious. “Really, I can’t control myself. S-stay back.”

Even as he told you to stay away, he reached a hand out for you, legs and arms straining forward, trying to get closer to you. His mouth was saying one thing, his body begging for another.

You stayed where you were, just out of his reach, and asked: “How long will this last?”

“I don’t know… I hope no longer than a few hours. It’s already been at least an hour since I got hit. But it’s-it’s gotten worse.”

You could hear the exhaustion and exertion in his voice. He was barely holding it together, and you knew you needed to do whatever you could to make this easier on him, not harder. So, you shoved down your own selfish desire and with great reluctance, stepped away from him. You sat back down on the crate across from him and said, “Then, I guess… we’ll wait it out.”

He nodded vaguely, leaning against the wall behind him with a loud sigh.

You sat in uncomfortable silence for several long minutes. You busied yourself by reassembling your blaster. Every so often, the restraints jangled loudly when Mando was wracked by a brutal surge of need and struggled violently. You tried your best not to flinch every time it happened.

Eventually, he disrupted the silence by saying your name.

Before you even looked up at him, though, you knew—you knew that Mando was gone.

His voice had dropped several octaves, and it sounded different… honeyed, charming, drawling, depraved. It was fucking sultry. When you looked up at him, you immediately noticed his body language. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what exactly had changed, but something about him was off.

All you knew was that, suddenly, a dangerous stranger was standing across the hull from you. For the first time, you were truly grateful for those thick fucking chains.

His voice was smooth and calm when he said: “I need your help, sweetheart.”

You looked away from him, studying the silver sheen of the blaster in your hand instead. The way he rasped the word sweetheart would be burned into your brain for the rest of your life. It made your whole body feel hot.

“Come over here, beautiful,” he coaxed. “I’ve wanted you for so long, and now I know you want me too—you can’t hide from me anymore, princess.”

Princess. You didn’t answer. You just sat in silence and shrieked internally.

He said your name again—this time more urgently—then abruptly changed his tack: “Maker, this hurts so much now, it burns—I need you to make it stop hurting. Be a good girl and help me.”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek and shifted on the crate, pressing your thighs together.

When you didn’t respond, he tested a third approach, his voice pitching low and sensual: “Please, cyar’ika, don’t you want me? I’m so fucking hard for you right now. I’ll make you feel so, so good, make you cum again and again. Just-just let me touch you. Let me show you.”

You stayed quiet, trying to remember how to breathe. He was playing all the angles—appealing to your conscience and your libido. The second strategy was harder to ignore.

“Come here and feel how hard I am for you.”

Fuck.

His voice was pure sin, purring and growling for you. He was fucking luring you in with it, and he seemed to know it. He said your name one more time, and your resolve cracked a little.

You looked up at him, setting your blaster down beside you.

Mando seemed encouraged by the eye contact, trying one last tactic. He cocked his helmet and rasped, “Are you wet for me?”

Your eyes widened, but you somehow managed to keep your lips pressed together.

Yes.

He continued as if you’d answered aloud, as if he already knew you were: “Show me.”

You stared at him, unmoving.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he nodded down at your lap, his voice suddenly much lighter, as if he was thrilled to have identified this loophole. “You don’t even have to touch me. You can keep your clothes on. It’s completely safe—just-just touch yourself for me...and I’ll tell you all the things I’ve imagined doing to your body.”

Sweet fucking hell.

Every part of you was screaming to listen to him. You wanted this. You wanted this just as much as he needed it.

“Please,” he whined, rolling his head to the side as if the thought alone made him burn.

“I don’t know—”

He fixed his visor on your face again. “I need—I need this, mesh’la. And so do you. It’ll help. I know it will. Don’t you want to help me? And don’t you deserve to feel good?”

Fuck… yes.

And he was right after all: what was the risk? It would be completely safe. He was shackled to the wall for fuck's sake.

You nodded dazedly, fairly sure this was somehow still a bad idea but struggling to find the will to care.

Mando was thrilled. “Fuck, yes, go on,” he encouraged, straining forward against the chains. “Feel your pussy for me.”

You surrendered to the rasping command of his voice immediately: you scooted back on the crate to lean against the wall, your legs crossed and knees open, and slid a hand under your waistband. Mando’s helmet followed your movements like his life depended on it. You could hear the staticky pull of his labored breath through the modulator. When your fingers found your clit and you whimpered and looked up at him, he let out a stuttering groan—a filthy, orgasmic sound that echoed through the hull.

“That’s right, show me how wet you are.”

Before you had the chance to think too hard about what you were doing, you swiped your fingers through your soaked folds and extracted your hand carefully, holding it out in front of you, so Mando could see—even across the hull—how your fingertips glistened wetly under the lights. He surged forward at the sight, the chains creaking threateningly, and hummed deep in his chest.

“Mmmmm,” he purred, slumping back against the wall. “I can’t wait to taste you. Make yourself cum for me now, and later, I’ll taste you and make you cum again. And again.”

You shoved your hand back into your pants and shuddered when you started rubbing slow circles over your clit, your eyes fixed on the hungry void of Mando’s visor. He wrapped his gloved fingers around the thick chains and clenched his fists tight. Every single muscle in his body seemed taut, his spine perfectly rigid as he leaned forward again to watch.

He quirked his helmet to the side suggestively and spoke softly while you touched yourself, painting you a picture: “Later, when you let me down from here, I’m going to take my time with you. I’m going to strip you bare and put a blindfold over your eyes, so I can kiss every inch of your body. I’m going to drag my tongue through your wet cunt and suck your clit until you come apart for me.”

The links squeaked as Mando shifted, slowly struggling further and further forward.

“I’m going to make you cum on my tongue so hard it hurts, and then I’m going to kiss it better.”

You whimpered, your fingers feeling like an inadequate replacement for his mouth, but his words were making up the difference. He was shoving you towards a climax without even touching you.

“Are you going to let me fuck you after I make you cum on my tongue?”

You nodded, too overwhelmed to scrape together a verbal reply, your fingers slipping wetly over the peak of your throbbing clit.

“Good... because I’ve thought about fucking you on every surface of this ship, beautiful. I’ve made myself cum thinking about bending you over the exact crate you’re sitting on right now and making you take my cock from behind. I’ve imagined fucking you up against the ladder with your legs wrapped around my waist. And whenever we’re in the cockpit together, I always think about pulling you onto my lap and letting you ride me right there in the pilot’s seat.”

You whined and squeezed your eyes shut, all those images too much to take. You moved your fingers faster, and you could feel Mando’s restraint slipping the closer you got to orgasm.

“Yes, just like that—I need it,” he panted. “I need you. Look at me when you cum.”

Your eyes snapped open at that, and you saw that he was actively fighting his way forward now, pulling until all four of the chains were taut, his boots slipping over the metal floor, his voice getting louder and louder as he talked you through it.

“I want—I want to see it. Cum for me.”

You were so close—your head lolling back against the wall, your eyes falling closed as your body started to tense—when an angry metallic whine and the pattering of several small objects hitting the floor made you freeze and snap your eyes open. Your hand was still shoved down the front of your pants, your fingers paused against your clit, as you watched the durasteel panel that Mando’s right wrist restraint was fastened to began to peel away from the framework of the ship, several of the bolts already missing.

The piercing sound seemed to jolt Mando out of his drugged haze. As you watched, he seemed to turn back into himself again. He stepped back against the wall, putting as much distance as he could between the two of you.

“Run.”

You withdrew your hand in a quick motion. “But I—”

“Do it,” he growled, his chest heaving. “Now. The cockpit. Lock the doors behind you—the manual emergency lock, so I can’t override it.”

You stayed rooted to the spot, trying to work through a storm of conflicting emotions in the space of a second. You didn’t really want to run; you wanted to stay, you wanted to cum, you wanted to help him. You wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt himself breaking out of those restraints.

Mostly, you wanted him to fuck you.

“Go.”

Even as he ordered you to leave, Mando grasped and yanked the chain connected to the loose panel, twisting his torso and leaning forward to make full use of his body weight. The durasteel barely put up a fight. It fell away from the wall almost immediately, crashing to the floor.

In the tense silence that followed, Mando lifted his head to look at you.

In a ferocious voice you didn’t recognize, he roared, “RUN.”

Adrenaline seemed to take over then. You jumped to your feet and hauled yourself up the ladder as fast as you could, flinging yourself into the cockpit and slamming your palm against the control panel to shut the heavy doors behind you. You forced the manual lock into place with a satisfying click, then with your back against the cold metal of the doors, you slid to the floor.

You waited there, taking deep breaths to calm your pounding heart, and looked around the dimly lit cockpit. Some buttons flashed on the console, and a smattering of muted stars was visible through the viewport over the pointed tops of the trees. You could hear Mando’s ongoing struggle down in the hull: a series of grunts, bellowed curses, loud metallic scrapes and whines.

After several minutes, there was one final crash, and a victorious roar rang through the ship. Then, silence fell.

He was free.

Some combination of relief and excitement overwhelmed you, sending a heady cocktail of adrenaline and desire skittering through your veins. You waited with baited breath, every inch of your skin tingling with exhilaration. He was coming for you.

For you.

A fresh surge of arousal flooded your core, your eyes falling closed as you rested your head against the doors.

After all the time you’d spent pining for him, after all those hours you’d watched his big hands work expertly over the console, after all days you’d admired the obscenely wide spread of his shoulders, after so many nights of sleeping feet away from him, your skin on fire just thinking about him… he was finally coming for you.

And now you knew the truth: all those times you’d thought about him, he’d been thinking about you too.

Some rude, insistent voice decided to remind you then that no matter how much you wanted to—fuck, you wanted to—you couldn’t let him in. He didn’t want you to.

No, that wasn’t right. He thought he shouldn’t. That was completely different.

He definitely wanted you to let him in. He'd wanted to fuck you long before the bio-dart. And that’s what mattered, wasn’t it?

The quietest sound—the unmistakable scrape of a boot over metal—made you snap your head up, your eyes wide. He was on the other side of the doors. Every nerve in your body seemed to be on high alert, positively humming at his closeness. You were separated by only a few inches of metal.

“Sweetheart.”

Your pussy clenched at that one word.

“Open the doors,” he murmured, his voice all silk and solace.

You could hear subtle movement on the other side of the doors, the hollow clank of his helmet as he rested his head against the heavy metal.

“Don’t you want me?”

Yes.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to keep the word from bursting out of you. There was an answering smack and a sudden reverberation against your back, and you knew Mando had slammed his clenched fist against the outside of the doors. Your silence was killing him.

“The drugs have plateaued. I promise you: I’m not gonna hurt you. I’ll make you feel good—so good—I swear. Open these doors, and I’ll show you.”

You were fully aware that it would be absolutely absurd to trust him in this moment. It made no sense whatsoever to take him at his word.

And yet.

“I’ll turn these lights off, and I’ll take my helmet off, so I can taste you—so I can taste every part of you,” he purred. “Don’t you want that?”

YES.

Suddenly, every light on the console was extinguished, and the viewport blackened, the glass becoming completely opaque, until the cockpit was bathed in total darkness. Mando was a man of his word after all.

You were left in the pitch black, thinking about Mando taking off his helmet—taking it off for one single purpose. The thought of his mouth threatened to sink you: the heat of it on your neck, on your lips, on your cunt… all over you. It threatened to erase every trace of logic or restraint that had ever resided in your brain. It dragged over every part of you, promising care and pleasure and him. It was overwhelming enough to spur you to your feet. Before you knew it, you were standing, your hand on the manual release for the doors.

As if he somehow knew, as if he could read your mind, Mando spoke then.

“I’m ready when you are,” came the rasping whisper from the other side of the doors.

Your heartbeat seemed to crescendo as you released the lock on the doors and instinctively scampered backward as they creaked open. You expected Mando to rush inside, to flip the lights back on, to be on you right away.

Instead, silence endured in the pitch black darkness. Thanks to his helmet, you knew he could see you perfectly; you, on the other hand, had no idea where he was. Your heartbeat ratcheted up impossibly higher, a spastic staccato against your ribcage. Your voice seemed to catch in your throat, unable to express any of the questions that were rattling at your consciousness.

What was he waiting for? How did this massive man covered in metal move so quietly through a metal ship? Shouldn’t he fucking clank at the very least?

Finally, the faintest rasp of a leather sole on the floor gave him away. He was silently making his way into the cockpit.

After all that build up, all that waiting, he was toying with you.

The audacity.

Well, fuck, if he wanted to play games, you were more than happy to oblige.

You could see nothing in the oppressive gloom, but you could feel him getting closer to you. Some innate, long-dormant prey instinct seemed to awaken in you then, and you backed further into the cockpit. You paused, braced against the console. When every single hair on the back of your neck stood at attention, and you felt certain he was closing in, you took a risk.

You sprinted past him, and Mando roared.

You dodged his grasping hands, feeling the faintest brush of leather on your arm as you slipped around him and threw yourself out of the cockpit, slapping the door control as you went. The doors clanged shut behind you, cutting off Mando’s frustrated grunt, and you barrelled forward, hoping your memory of the layout of the Crest was good enough to serve you in complete darkness. Your hands found the top of the ladder blindly, and you managed to get your feet onto the first rung without plummeting straight down into the hull. You climbed down as fast as you could, knowing the closed doors would buy you mere seconds.

Just as you dropped down onto the floor of the hull, you heard the doors slide open again. You scurried to the far end of the ship and slipped behind a stack of crates. You weren’t even really sure why you were still evading him. Hiding was pointless when he had the advantage of his helmet, but if he insisted on playing, you weren’t going to be the one to surrender first.

A grunt and a thud announced his arrival—then, nothing.

For several long moments, he let your blood pressure tick ever upward.

But eventually, the slightest creak of metal gave him away again. He was close—somewhere off to your right. You edged to the left, certain that you had a vague idea of where he was. You backed up slowly, relieved when you bumped against the solid metal of the wall.

You waited there, straining to hear the tiniest movement.

Nothing. Silence—heavy, oppressive silence blanketed the ship, making it hard to breathe. You couldn’t make out a single sound in the darkness, and the sheer anticipation was starting to make you sweat. Mando must be frozen too, somewhere out there in the gloom, waiting for you to make a move.

Was he even breathing?

Your stubbornness was quickly giving way to horniness. Your determination to outlast him deteriorated, and you opened your mouth to call out to him.

Instead, you let out a scream of terror when the metal behind you shifted, but the shriek was immediately muffled when a large, gloved hand clamped firmly over your mouth. Mando wrapped his other arm around your middle, pulling you completely back against him. You whimpered against the tight clutch of worn leather, the heady smell of blaster residue invading your senses, your heart threatening to burst from your chest.

The metal of his helmet was cold against your ear when he whispered, “It’s just me, sweetheart.”

You let out a quiet, needy whine in response, the icy fear in your veins melting into something warmer, something thicker. You tipped your head back, resting it against his cold, armored shoulder and ground your hips against him in silent invitation. He purred through the modulator, and he rolled his hips once against your ass in response. The temporary hot, tight press of his hard cock against you made you moan into his hand.

“Are we done playing, love? You want me to fuck you now?”

He lifted his hand away from your mouth just long enough for you to gasp, “Yes, please.”

His gloved fingers closed over your lips once more, and he kept you there, fitted tightly against his chest.

“You gonna take my cock like a good girl?”

As he spoke, he rolled his hips against you again, and you nodded frantically against his hand.

Approval rumbled through his chest—you felt the satisfied reverberation against your back as much as you heard it. The arm that was curled around your middle like an unyielding iron bar loosened then, and that hand wandered down your body, the leather of his glove dragging over your shirt—slow, weighty, distracting. You whined in disappointment, writhing weakly against him, when it didn’t dip under your waistband, instead continuing its path over your pants until it settled at the apex of your thighs. You parted your legs reflexively, and he shoved his thick fingers between them.

He stopped there, his palm cupped over your clothed cunt, his fingers poised so fucking close to where you were throbbing for him, unmoving.

A threat. A promise.

“Then beg for it.”

You involuntarily clenched your thighs together around his hand, unintentionally increasing the pressure on your aching clit, and your jaw dropped open just as the hand over your mouth disappeared again. The words spilled from your lips before you even knew what you were saying.

“Please, Mando, I want it—I need your co—”

You were cut off by your own surprised squeak when you heard the pneumatic release of his helmet so close to your ear. You held your breath—stunned into complete silence—as you felt him maneuver the cold beskar up and off his head. It clanged dully when he set it down somewhere behind him.

The complete darkness meant there was, thankfully, no chance of seeing his face, but just knowing he was that close to you… his lips, his tongue… after all the things he’d promised? After he’d admitted all the things he’d thought about doing to you? It was a lot to take in.

You shuddered when his exact words came back to you.

I’m going to make you cum on my tongue so hard it hurts, and then I’m going to kiss it better.

For a moment, all you could feel was the rise and fall of his sturdy chest behind you and his humid exhale against your cheek. His mouth was inches away from yours. Your tongue darted out flit across your lower lip.

If you turned your head and angled it just so, you could probably—

With a low growl, Mando interrupted your train of thought. He dipped his head and dragged his tongue up the side of your neck—one slow, languid pull of velvet that melted away any and all of your coherent thoughts. Your head lolled to the other side, giving him all the space he needed to taste you. He took the invitation gladly, greedily laving his tongue over the expanse and sucking hard kisses into your skin.

Hot. Wet. Bliss.

Somewhere in the back of your hazy brain, you knew you were supposed to be doing something.

What was it he’d asked you to do?

Mando worked his way up the column of your neck at a leisurely pace, blazing a searing trail across your sensitive skin, and you sagged in his arms, muscles weakening as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. All the while, you were painfully aware of the insistent pressure of his unmoving hand on your cunt, the press of his hard cock against your ass through so many layers of fabric.

When he reached it, he sucked your earlobe between his teeth, the teasing scrape somewhere between delicious and ticklish.

His lips ghosted over curve of your ear, and he whispered, “Beg for my cock, and I’ll bend you over and fuck you right here.”

Desire flashed up your spine. His unfiltered voice was sexier than the one that came through his helmet. It was warmer, fuller, rawer—ten subtle shades of red, as opposed to the one monotone hue that came through the modulator. It was Mando with no dilution, unadulterated in all his low, rasping glory.

It set something off inside you, obliterated what little composure remained.

You had no excuse—there was no incapacitating drug coursing through your veins, no bio-dart to explain your desperation—and yet, you felt that same exact urgency that Mando had described earlier when he was still in chains.

You felt like if he didn’t fuck you right now, you might die.

“Please, please fuck me. I want you to. Please, I need it,” you pleaded. Something commanding seeped into your tone then—that urgent feeling made material—and when you continued, your voice was unyielding: “Now, I need it now. ”

He snarled, rendered wordless by his own need reflected in your voice, and shoved your pants and underwear down your thighs in one rough movement. He ripped them down your legs until you lifted one foot, then the other, tossing them away into the darkness. Your shirt followed suit. When you were completely bare, he flipped you both around without warning.

“Hands out,” he said, his voice all authority.

You obeyed immediately, your hands flying out to brace against the cold metal wall as one of his large hands slid up your back, following the line of your spine, to rest between your shoulder blades and press you forward. You folded, and he nudged your feet apart and gripped your hips, pulling your ass up and back—manipulating your body into the exact position that he wanted it: open and ready.

You heard him unbuckle his belt behind you, the metallic clink sending a hot shiver down your spine. Your jaw fell open, a quiet, pained moan slipping from your lips, when the blunt head of his cock was rubbed up and down—it slipped so easily up and down—against your soaking wet cunt. You pressed your hips back, and finally, he fitted the head against your entrance and eased himself forward—stretching you slowly, agonizingly slowly. He was thick and long, so he worked you open with shallow thrusts, one hand on your shoulder, the other on your hip to hold you in place as you parted slickly around his girth. You both moaned when his hips met the plush of your ass.

“Fuck me, Mando. Please, fuck me hard.”

Letting out a low growl, he pulled his hips back and obeyed.

The only sounds that filled the hull were the obscene slap of skin against skin and your panting breaths. In the complete darkness, it was easy to get lost in the rhythm, in the slick push and pull, in the deliciously tight fit. The hand gripping your hip wandered inward, seeking out your clit.

Mando curled himself forward then, fitting himself along the curve of your back, and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck. He paused to say, “Let me feel you soak my cock.”

You moaned in reply, reaching back to tangle one hand in his messy curls. Somewhere in the back of your hazy brain you registered this new piece of information, and it made your heart squeeze: Mando has soft, wavy hair.

With his fingers moving deftly over your clit, his cock filling you perfectly, it took less than a minute to reach your peak. His thrusts faltered when you spasmed and tightened around him—letting out a keening moan as the pleasure washed through you—and you knew he was close too.

“Inside—” you panted. “Cum inside—”

He snarled and pressed you closer to the wall, forcing you both upright. The metal of his thigh plates was cold against your bare legs, his forearm braced against the wall inches from your face. He kicked his pace up higher—a punishing slap slap slap—as he impaled you again and again on the rigid length of his cock.

When he came, his teeth threatened to break the skin on your shoulder, and you whined at the sensation, at pleasure tinged with pain. He let out what would have been a shout had his jaw not been clenched tight and canted his hips in an achingly slow motion—once, twice, three times—as he worked out his orgasm, releasing inside you.

Even after he’d finished, after he’d slumped his weight against you, pressing you into the unforgiving metal of the wall, he was still hard—throbbing hot and insistent inside you as you both attempted to catch your breath.

Eventually, he eased out of you, and you turned in his embrace. Immediately, his gloved hands found your cheeks, and he crashed his lips against yours, his bold tongue finding its way into your mouth right away. The kiss was messy and hot, a tangle of tongues as you swallowed each other’s moans.

Your eager hands wandered down his cold armor and settled on his hips, and you pulled away from him to sink to your knees. He let out a groan when he realized what you were doing and leaned heavily against the wall, bent over you, as you wrapped your lips around his cock. He shuddered at the heat of your mouth engulfing him, one large hand coming down to cradle the back of your head as you swallowed him down.

His hips bucked forward, and he grunted, “Fuck—yes—”

And time passed like that, in a darkened blur—everything was a hazy cloudburst of arched spines and bruising grips, a riot of golden sensation, warm and syrupy and tactile. You worked your way through Mando's layers until he too was stripped down, discarding armor and clothes throughout the hull.

Mando was fanatical in his pursuit of your pleasure, a devoted acolyte at the altar of your body. You came three times for every one of his orgasms. It was like a fractured dream: hot, sweaty limbs tangled together; broken moans and heaving sighs; pleasure sharpened to a euphoric peak by small, deliberate doses of pain.

His bare hand closed loosely around your throat while you rode him right there on the cold floor of the hull. His feet slipped across the smooth metal as he braced himself to cant his hips up and up, stunted thrusts in time with the movements of your hips. You could tell your nails were going to leave scarlet half-moons on the undersides of his biceps when you tightened around his thick cock. The rhythmic slap of sweaty skin against sweaty skin rang throughout the echoing ship. Words fled you both, and you were left with purrs and cries, with shaky keening and thundering pants.

The burning urgency—the fire and the fog—of the drug slowly wore off of him: you could tell by the way his movements became less desperate and more measured, by the way words eventually returned to him. He was completely himself again: your Mando. Time slowed, and the pleasure became leisurely, luxurious.

But even without the drug sharpening his need, the mutual hunger remained.

Some time—and innumerable orgasms later—you had finally made your way into his bunk, and you were flat on your back at the top of the cot, legs spread, his head buried between your thighs, your hands tangled in his waves. He was making good on his promise to taste every part of you, and even in the dark, you could hear how much he was enjoying it. He was moaning as he worked his tongue over your puffy, slick lips, circling the aching peak of your clit. You could feel the way he was humping the mattress, his hips stuttering, shaking the metal bedframe.

“Taste so good,” he slurred.

You whined when he slid two thick fingers inside the hot clutch of your cunt, hooking them up in time with the flicks of his tongue. When you came, blood rushed loudly in your ears, cutting off the sound of your own cry of pleasure. You were vaguely aware of the fact that Mando was also cumming: his hips thrusting frantically, jolting the cot, and he groaned against your pussy in an unmistakable way, spilling against the rough surface, entirely untouched. Your own orgasm rolled through you, tensing and arching, seemingly endless. When it finally ebbed, your grip relaxed, fingers slipping from his hair as every muscle in your body went limp.

“Turn—turn over for me,” he breathed, sliding backward to give you space.

You flipped over for him, bracing yourself on your elbows and knees, expecting him to fuck you again. Instead, you felt him settle behind you, and his large hands gripped your thighs and traveled up, kneading the supple flesh and spreading your asscheeks. You gasped when one of his long fingers trailed between them, instinctively looking over your shoulder even though you couldn’t see anything in the dark.

“Can I touch you here? Can I taste you here?”

His voice was low and hoarse, like sandpaper rasping over the smooth surface of steel.

“Yes,” you breathed, desperate to feel him anywhere—everywhere. After hours of this, you were on the verge of delirium—you wanted him to turn liquid and seep into every part of you, until you were inundated, until you drowned in it.

The first hot glide of his wet tongue over your asshole made you both shudder: your elbows gave out immediately, your cheek landing on the cushion of your forearm as goosebumps sprang up all over your skin. And the large hands spreading your ass jerked and tensed, his fingertips digging into your giving flesh.

It was an unfamiliar sensation—not unpleasant or uncomfortable—but new and alluring, half because of how it felt and half because of how much he seemed to be enjoying it. He moaned against you, and one of his hands found its way around your hip to your overstimulated clit. He started rubbing slow, meticulous circles around it as his tongue worked languidly against your asshole, savoring this new part of you.

You pressed yourself against his searching mouth, arching your back. He was as patient as he was determined, working his tongue and his fingers as if steadily edging you toward your peak was bringing him just as much pleasure. You whimpered against the cot when he slipped two fingers inside your aching cunt again.

When you came, every part of you pulsed for him, your cunt around his fingers, your tight asshole against his tongue. He groaned at the feeling of your body tensing and releasing—tensing and releasing just for him—on his fingers and his tongue, the tangible cadence of your pleasure as addictive as it was ephemeral.

He was panting when he pulled back, and you slumped against the cot, rolling onto your back, limp and sated and exhausted. He collapsed somewhere below you, his head resting on your thigh, and the two of you lay like that—completely spent and incapacitated.

You felt lazy and sedate, like a cat who’d slept too long in the sun.

Eventually, you felt Mando stir and back out of the bunk, his weight shifting the mattress, but you were too close to the verge of sleep to reach out for him or ask him where he was going. When he returned a few minutes later, he had a warm, damp cloth in his hand. He shuffled up beside you and ran it over the sensitive parts of you, over the sweat and the slick, gently cleaning you up, and to your sleepy delight, he followed the trail with soft kisses, pressing his lips to every part of you—retracing each step of the night, retreading the pleasure like a familiar path.

Kissing it better.

You hummed at the sensation, at the comfort. At what they promised.

After placing a final kiss on your temple, he disappeared again.

You missed his touch.

But Mando returned minutes later, this time with a full water bottle, coaxing you to sit up and drink before he let you settle back down on the cot. When he was satisfied that you were comfortable and cared for, he crawled up next to you and pulled you into his side, dragging a blanket over both your bodies and draping a heavy arm across your middle.

“Thank you,” you murmured, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. You felt him smile.

“Sleep, mesh’la,” he whispered, his calloused fingers stroking your cheek.

“Mmm,” you replied, your eyelids drooping closed, a drowsy smile on your lips. “Night, Mando.”

“Din,” he said quietly. “Call me Din.”

"You can't consume problematic media!"

Maybe YOU can't. I, on the other hand, have critical thinking skills and a lot of spite

Summary: Din always cums inside of you. No exceptions. You never really understood why until now...

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Fem!reader, darkish Din?, innocent reader, p0rn with very little plot, ✨breeding kink✨, dom!din 😈 , established relationship, fingering, unprotected piv sex, degradation, no use of y/n

AN: The horny demon has possessed me again👻. but breeding kink is always activated when it comes to dindin tbh. Writing this made me 🌊 whoops🤰🏻

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Din always cums inside you. Always. No exceptions. Even when you would suck his dick he would never finish in your mouth. He would stop and manhandle you onto the nearest surface (sometimes the floor) so he could pump his cum inside you. It was all practice for the day he would finally fuck you with a purpose. To make new life.

When that day came there would be no implant stopping him. Din knew he would fill you over and over until his seed took and then keep fucking you through your pregnancy as your body swelled. Just the thought of breeding you would unleash dark thoughts in his head. It wasn't just the act that got him excited, it ran deeper than that. Though you had only been intimate for a little while, Din knew you were his soulmate. He felt a primal and romantic desire to cement his devotion inside you.

Din had given you an old holopad with the scripture of the Mandalore so you could learn more about his culture. You were fascinated by the section relating to fertility and breeding. It was quite detailed as copulation was central to the survival of the culture and continuation of ones clan. You actually learned a lot about your own anatomy as you were fairly inexperienced before meeting Din. You couldn’t help but shift in your seat as you read some of the descriptions of positions and toys used. You thought it was odd Din never mentioned this part of his culture when it was so important. He had shown you his face. Wasn’t breeding the next step mandated by the creed? You couldn’t help but feel a little rejection, assuming that his silence meant he didn’t want that next step with you.

Of course, you didn't know that after you went to sleep Din would check your reading statistics relishing how you spent the most time reading the breeding section. You didn't know he saw you in the fresher weighing your breasts and caressing your stomach in front of the mirror like you were already carrying his baby. It took everything in his power that day not to rip out that implant and breed you then and there. He was determined to make the first breeding special, but every day his restraint grew weaker. He nearly lost it at the last fuel stop when he saw you kindly braiding a little girl's hair. In his dark thoughts, he knew he had ran out of ways to tell you he loved you. He needed to show it by marking you permanently.

Oblivious to his inner thoughts, you continued to be worried by Din's continued silence. You were too shy to outright ask him why he hadn't fucked a baby in you yet. Instead, you asked him if you should get your implant replaced as it was nearing time. He said yes, which only worsened your insecurities. You left in a huff, going to the nearest healer at the next fuel stop.

"Where were you, ad’ika?” Din demanded as soon as you came back to the Razor Crest. You were an hour late from when he said to meet back.

“I was getting my implant replaced, like you told me to do.” You couldn't help but let some of your annoyance color your tone.

“Your implant..?” It clicked when you held up your bandaged arm. “Oh.”

“Problem is…” You walked past him into the crest. “They didn’t have any replacements so in the mean time you’re going to have to pull out or something…” You said nervously.


“That’s not going to happen.” Din growled lowly. He closed the hatch door stalking over to you. “I only cum inside your little pussy. You think I’m going to stop just because you took out the implant?” He tilted his helmet at you. The hour spent worrying about where you were made him sound angrier than he really was.

“But-" Your eyes widened. “I’ll get pregnant, Din.”

“Yes, cyar’ika.” Din purred feeling blood rush between his legs.

“I’m confused.” You looked up into the black void of his visor. “You told me to get the implant and so I thought you didn’t want to-with me-” You felt your voice climb higher in your distress.

“Silly girl…” Din tugged you into his chest. “I was trying to wait until we found a place to settle down.” He smiled at your look of surprise. He pulled off his helmet, his eyes finding yours.

"Really?" You felt yourself relax a little now that you could see his face. You thought it was sweet that he planned on waiting for the right time.

"Really." He caressed your face gently with his leather covered fingers. "I choose you in all things. I want you to bear my children. But do you want that, mesh'la?"

"I do." You replied in a soft voice.

“Then I guess I’m going to have to breed you a little earlier than I planned…”

You gulped feeling a heavy tug in your lower stomach.

“On the bed, cyar’ika.” He ordered, his voice growing huskier.

“Now?” You asked incredulously.

“Right now.” Din nodded his eyes lit up with excitement and determination. Now that he knew you were vulnerable and wanting, he wasn’t going to waste any time.

“But the implant will be in my system for another few days.”

“You sure about that?” Din smirked.

You shivered slightly feeling yourself grow wet. From either his excitement or your own, you were not sure. You walked to his small bunk and sat on the thin mattress. Your heart was starting to race. You tried to remember the various pieces of advice from the scripture but it was hard when Din was staring at you like he was going to consume you.

“There’s no need to be nervous, my love.” He kneeled before you, tilting your face towards his. “You were made for this.” His smooth voice calmed your nerves.

“I just- I want it to work.” You admitted.

“Kriff.” Din groaned. You were riling him up and you didn’t even know. “It will work. I’ll make it work. You just be your perfect self.” He leaned forward and kissed you softly, loving how you melted against him.

You had always given him your full trust but now it was so much more than that. He had your body entirely. Soon his claim on you would not be purely sentimental. It would be physical. While he knew you loved him, he still felt his cock ache at the thought of further tying you to him forever. Keeping you bred constantly so you'd never leave his side.

“Take my armor off, ad’ika.” Din murmured. You swallowed hard, reaching up with shaking hands and slowly removed his chest plate, his paldrons, piece by piece exposing him to you. It was sacred to touch his armor and even more special to remove it. You handled each piece gently, setting them on the ground in an orderly fashion. As you reached his flight suit you saw he was throbbing under his pants. You could feel the warmth emanating from his cock. You looked up at him through your lashes, waiting for your next instruction. “Take off my clothes now.” You nodded, stripping down his flight suit to his under layers. You pulled his gloves off one by one. Then you pulled his shirt off, smiling as his bare chest was revealed covered in scars you had memorized. Din looked perfectly content. Patient. When you reached his waistband, some of that patience slipped. He stepped out of his pants kicking them to the side. You honed in on his cock bobbing between you two. He had never given you such power before: to be fully clothed while he is bare.

“Now me, please.” You held your arms out for him to remove your shirt.

“You have to do it yourself, ad’ika." Din shook his head. "You have to show me that you give me permission.” You felt your cheeks heat up and some fight rise up in you. You were so used to him taking care of everything. “This is the way.” Din added with a stroke of your cheek.

You were much less coordinated with your own disrobing, pulling off your shirt and pants off almost at the same time, leaving them tangled up on the floor. You unclipped your chest band and shimmied off your panties. The cold air of the ship barely affected you as you were so worked up already. You were already so wet, like your body knew this time was different.

“Eager girl. So eager.” Din whispered to himself finally putting his hands on your naked thighs.

You laid back on the mattress, spreading your legs but Din doesn't touch you yet.

“I need you to ask for it.” He asked, voice tight. Restraint slipping.

“Please fuck me.” You answered automatically.

“No, ad’ika… ask for it.” He repeated.

Your mouth went dry finally understanding what he was implying. “Please breed me.”

At that request, he was on you in a second. He kissed you hard and passionately, his scruff burning your soft skin. His rough tongue filling your mouth. His fingers entering your wet opening without warning. No layers lay between as his body covered yours. You grabbed his cock as it lay near your hip feeling the precum slide through your fist. His appreciable length meant more now than just increased pleasure.

“Were they really out of replacements, ad'ika?” He taunted as he thrust his finger into you “Or were you just so greedy to be bred that you forced my hand.”

“They-“ you gasped into his mouth. “They were.”

“I’ll believe you but your pussy is saying something different.” Din chuckled rubbing your clit now with his other hand. “She doesn’t care if we’re on a nice planet or if the timing is right. She just wants to be bred now.” He pulled your nipple between his lips.

“Din!” You cried feeling your orgasm creep up on you.

“Cum on my fingers, ad'ika. I need this cunt to get nice a wet for me.”

“I’m-Oh Maker!” The wave of your pleasure peaked and then crashed over you, making you twitch below him. You could feel your pussy spasming around his fingers. You heard his grunt of approval. He pulled his fingers back and licked the cum from them. He could swear it tasted sweeter this time. Your vision cleared as he lined himself up with your still fluttering entrance and pressed in. He hissed as your hot walls squeezed his length all the way to the base. The sensation was all the more intoxicating to him because he knew you were unprotected.

“Stars this pussy...“ Din sighed pulling your legs around his waist thrusting harder now. "You were made for this, cyar'ika."

He had spent many nights after you had fallen asleep thinking about how he would breed you but none of those thoughts compared to the real thing. Your pussy was always better than anything he could ever dream of and he was about to make it even better.

“Din.” You moaned breathily beneath him not every sure what you were moaning about. Just how perfect he felt. He laced his hands with yours above your head as he fell into his usual hard rhythm. His determined eyes were trained on where your bodies were joined. The sound of his grunting and growling rolled over you in delicious waves. All you could do was answer them with your own cries. You felt your eyes start to roll back as he found that perfect spot. His noises the only thing keeping you from drowning in the pleasure.

“I can’t wait to see you pregnant with our child“ Din moaned, looking down at you. "You'll look so kriffing beautiful."

You agreed. You felt a surge of affection for the man fucking you. From the beginning all you wanted was to ease his scars, bring him happiness, and now you wanted to give him a family. It was your purpose. You placed a hand on his chest feeling his heart beat through his sweat coated skin. “Please." you whimpered. "I want to give you everything you want.” You kissed him as deeply as you could from this angle.

“Kriffing hell...” Din pinned you down to the bed using one hand to hold your neck down and the other to grab your hip and pull you up against him. Your hands gripped the thin sheet for leverage to help meet his every thrust. You felt weightless under his man handling. Your moans sounded tighter and more high pitched with his hand around your throat.

He had fucked you in this position many times before but it felt different today. He was harsher. Like he was after his own pleasure. Like the love was gone but you knew it was really stronger than ever. It was the deep root of the passion, the fire behind the purpose. You fucking loved it. You loved the sight of him, powerful above you, executing your shared purpose so beautifully.

He was nearly pulling all the way out and slamming back in with every thrust now. His balls slapped against you. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the air. His chest broke out into a light sweat, his thick neck strained as he clenched his jaw. His grunting became louder and lewder. He was trying to mold you to his cock and only his cock. Kissing your cervix every time. You gushed around him knowing he was using you to get himself off. Knowing he was breeding you.

“Good girl cyar'ika, taking your breeding. You like it when I put you in your place?” He panted, squeezing your neck to get your attention. He was looking down at you, his eyes molten.

“Yes!” You cried breathlessly.

“Because you're my little breeding slut?”

“Yes!" You nodded frantically. You didn't even care about the degrading term because you were his breeding slut right now and that was exactly what you wanted. Din shifted his weight forward, his gruff voice right against your ear now.


“No one else will have you, ner cyar’ika. As long as I live. I would kill a hundred men for this pussy. A thousand.” He snarled into your ear. “My” thrust “perfect” thrust “pussy” and then in a choked gasp he growled, “Say it. Tell me who this pussy belongs to.” He squeezed your neck again.

“You- Din! This” you squealed. “I b-belong to you.” You could feel your body react to your admission. Opening up more somehow. Din grazed a spot deep that made you gasp. “Din, I’m gonna-“ he hit it again this time dragging his cock head hard into it. You hadn’t realized you were that close but you were cumming again. Mouth open in a silent scream. Toes curling. Ass clenching as your hips jerked up. It was too much. Din's hands flew to your hips to keep himself inside you. You felt your body melt and reform then melt again. Your pussy was squeezing him like a vice, milking his length.

"Beg me." Din said urgently, holding your face, making you look him in the eye while he kept pounding you. His purposeful rhythm starting to break down in desperation. "Beg for my seed.”

"Please...I want it." You whispered, tightening your legs around his back and digging your nails into his back.

“I’m going to fill you up.” Din promised with his whole soul. “Right against your womb. Where it belongs.”

"Please..." You needed it. You needed it. You were his breeding slut at this moment, cock dumb and willing beneath him. You loved him so much you let him reduce you to your base instinct, your base purpose. Your body was fertile and you were powerless to stop what was about to happen. Fuck, you wouldn’t dream of stopping it.

At your final plea, Din felt his cock twitch and then suddenly his vision went white as his orgasm shot down his spine. His hips snapped forward instinctively causing him to shoot cum deep into you. His mouth fell open in pleasure. “F-fuck…” His back tightened and stance widened making his whole body coordinate to serve only one purpose: to push his cum as deep as possible. You whined, clenching weakly and watching the pleasure you gave him consume him. Watched as everything his body had to offer, his purpose, flowed into you. Spurt after spurt.

Din pulled back, his wet flesh dragging against your hot walls. “Take it all.” He prayed, slamming into you again to the hilt. He was still cumming inside you. His balls, dripping with your combined slick, pressed right against your ass. He ground himself into you trying to deliver every last drop from his aching spent cock. You imagined what his seed must look like right now, pooling at your cervix and spilling into your womb. Taking hold. Joining with you. It was a new level of intimacy that you knew you wouldn't be able to go without ever again.

The white noise in Din's ears faded as he drifted back to reality. He placed his hands on your stomach as if he could feel his cum inside you. He pulled out. Too soon, you thought.

“I don’t want to see a drop spill out, ad’ika.” Din kissed you sweetly, though his tone was far more commanding.

You clenched your sore muscles and tilted your ass up further to keep any of his cum from sliding out, still you felt some leaking out of your pussy.

“It's falling out!” You warned, your voice hoarse.

“We can’t have that.” Din growled using his finger to collect it and shove it back in your still fluttering hole. He kept his finger in like a plug. He fell down next to you keeping a hand on your stomach as if he was already protecting the child that would grow there.

“Thank you for choosing me.” He kissed you slowly. He wanted the first time to be special and it was. You didn’t need a fancy bed or pretty clothes. You just needed him.

“Mmm I think it worked, Din.” You sighed, joining his hand over your stomach.

“Oh my sweet ad’ika” Din smiled at your innocence. “This is just the beginning."

He started moving his finger in and out of you. Just wait until you see the breeding plug and collar he got made just for you...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @onesmokinbabe @heythere-mel @pinkninja200 @jpmarchs @morrison-mercury @phantombaby @greeneyedblondie44 @shadowchancorgi15 @fangirl-316 @what-iwish-you-knew @ajeff855 @my-own-oracle

Directions

Pairing - Poe Dameron x F!Reader Rating - Explicit 18+ Word Count - 8.1k

A/N -  This is just a messy little oneshot I’ve needed to get out of my system for a long time. Warnings for smut, experience vs. inexperience, descriptions of sex-related anxiety and insecurity, praise kink, encouragement kink, oral sex (f receiving), implied cum eating. Anything you think I’ve forgotten that needs to be flagged, please let me know.

“I’ve never hooked up with a Twi’lek girl.”

“Really? Poe, I saw you running off with Buul like, less than two weeks ago. Drink.”

“Oh - yeah,” he grins, ducking his head and taking a swig. “Alright smartass, you’re up.”

You think for a minute. “I actually really like that polystarch bread they give us in the ration packs. It tastes way better than it smells.”

He gives you a withering look. “Who cares? That’s a shitty secret, whether it’s true or not. For that, you drink twice.”

You groan at him. “I don’t have any secrets. You know everything about me anyway.”

Keep reading

[Comfort Fic Recs 💕]

These fic submissions were sent in for you, by you! I may have snuck in a couple of my favorites, but the rest were all sent in by members of the wonderful Star Wars community.

I hope on days where you're not feeling you best, that some of these fics might help and bring some comfort, even if just a little bit. 💖 Thank you so much for sending these in - it means a lot!

This blog is a 18+ blog, so please do not interact if you are a minor.

Clone Troopers x F!Reader

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Original Work

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------

Thank you so much, again! 💕 Please give these fics and writers some love for all their hard work.

Leia Organa - A Leader Named Leia, Illustration by Brian Rood

Unfettered

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: E, 18+ Word Count: 7.4k Warnings: sex pollen, use of restraints, sex-pollened!Mando gets scary and feral, SO MUCH dirty talk, sedation, injections/iv hydration, descriptions of previous injuries and blood, reference to violence, oral (m-receiving) while Mando is chained up but no longer drugged Summary: When Mando is drugged on a job, he begs you to restrain him because he knows he won’t be able to keep his hands off you. Notes: Thank you to @fisforfulcrum for being the best beta and enabler in all the land!

Masterlist | Taglist

gif by @bestintheparsec

You were sitting on a crate in the hull, cleaning your disassembled blaster when the ramp jolted and started to lower with a mechanical whir. You knew it was Mando returning from his solo job—the nav had beeped a little bit ago to announce that he was in range—so you didn’t bother looking up from your task when he strode into the ship.

He slapped the control on the wall and kept his hand pressed firmly to the panel, frozen in place, as the ramp closed slowly. You caught the limited movement in your periphery while you worked, thinking vaguely that he must be exhausted.

“How’d it go?” you asked, rubbing an oily rag along the barrel of your blaster.

Mando didn’t respond. No sigh, no grunt. Nothing.

That grabbed your attention. Mando was never talkative, often relying on one-word rejoinders, but he always answered direct questions, especially from you. Lately, he was even initiating conversations during the long stints in hyperspace between one bounty and the next.

You looked up and were surprised to see that there was no quarry in sight—it was just Mando standing at the far end of the hull, his gloved hand still pressed to the control panel like he couldn’t bring himself to move. He looked… agitated. You could read the tension in his body; the fist hanging by his side was clenched and his shoulders were drawn up.

“Mando?” you asked, the confusion apparent in your voice, as you set your blaster down and got to your feet.

“No.” Without moving from his position, he whipped his head around and held up a palm to halt your advance. “Don’t… Don’t come any closer.”

“What—?”

He pointed a threatening finger at your chest. “Stay. There.”

You were so shocked by his unexpected command that you obeyed, staying rooted to the spot.

That’s when you really took in his appearance: he was shaking, the hand pointed at your chest trembling slightly. His armor was dirty—smeared with what was unmistakably blood—and his cape had a new ragged tear up the side. His chest was heaving as if breathing alone was a herculean effort.

When he saw that you were listening to him, he nodded stiffly and wrenched his hand away from the wall. With leaden steps, he walked over to a large storage crate and dragged it into the middle of the floor. Each of his mechanical movements looked like it required every ounce of his control to execute.

“Why—?”

He grunted, ignoring your question again. You watched in stunned silence as he stripped off all of his weapons, even his vambraces and spare ammo, with stunted, jerky motions and dropped them into an unceremonious pile on the floor next to him. Mando usually spent hours caring for those weapons, so it was jarring to see them discarded carelessly like that.

He crouched and ripped the lid off the crate, letting it clatter to the floor. He rooted around and when he straightened a moment later, he was holding chains—thick, hefty chains with menacingly large iron links—in his gloved hands. You watched in confusion as he set down the heavy tangle on the floor with a clank and hunted through the strands until he located the ankle restraints. He extracted them and began to fasten them around his own ankles, one at a time. Your jaw dropped.

“Mando, what the fuck are you doing?”

He whipped his helmet up to look at you and commanded: “Help me with this.”

You scrunched your eyebrows together: “Why?”

“Just do it.”

“I’m not going to chain—”

Before you could even finish your sentence, he snarled: “Just shut up and fucking help me.”

You stood there, dumbstruck, and cycled through several emotions in rapid succession. Your initial shock was immediately replaced by irritation as you registered his rude words. Anger flickered brightly across your consciousness, but it was quickly supplanted by confusion: he had never spoken to you in that tone of voice, let alone told you to shut up. Finally, fear settled in, thick and weighty, like a fog threatening to choke you.

You approached him slowly, kneeling on the other side of the tangle of chains.

“What happened to you?” you asked gently, reaching out to touch his arm.

He jerked away immediately, so quickly that he almost lost his balance. He thrust out an arm to steady himself on the wall behind him.

“Don’t—don’t touch me. Please.” His voice was suddenly small, almost quavering.

Your heart rate kicked up again.

“Mando, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s going on.”

He looked up at you, voice slightly softer but still firm and urgent. “Help me with this, then I’ll explain.”

You stared at him.

“Please,” he repeated—beseechingly.

He was begging you. That was when the real fear sank in.

Without another word, you helped him get the wrist cuffs in place. Then, standing beside him, you followed his directions as he instructed you to secure the ends of the four chains: two to bolts on the wall, and two to bolts on the floor. The two on the wall were affixed to his arm restraints, the two on the floor to his ankles. Initially, you left slack in the chains, plenty of room for him to move, but he insisted that you tighten them enough so that his back was almost flush to the wall and he couldn’t extend his hands out any further than the natural reach of his long arms.

He sighed, shoulders slumping in relief, when you clicked the last restraint in place.

You looked up at him. Mando was strung up against the wall of this ship, arms hanging by his sides, suspended about a foot away from his body, and his legs were splayed slightly in a wide stance, boots a couple feet apart.

It was quite a sight.

If you weren’t so worried about what was happening, you’d definitely be having some... ideas. They were completely inappropriate ideas, especially considering the stark reality that the two of you were nothing more than hunting partners.

“Th-thank you,” he breathed. “Now, p-please, step away from me.”

You reluctantly complied, taking several careful steps backward, keeping your gaze trained on his visor.

“Okay, I did what you asked. Now tell me what happened.”

His breathing was still labored. “H-hit with a bio-dart, aphrodisiac drug. Strong... Heard of them before, but never encountered one until now.”

You gave him a skeptical look, raising one eyebrow, “...An aphrodisiac drug as a weapon? I thought that was a myth.”

“Apparently not.”

You surveyed him again as the reality of the situation washed over you.

He continued, words spilling out of his mouth in a rush like he was running out of time to explain: “H-had to get back to the ship. Didn’t trust myself. Left the body there. I’ll go back for it later. No-no time to bring it back. I had-had to—before I—”

His whole body tensed suddenly, cutting off his own sentence, and he threw his head back as an ugly, feral sound tore from his chest.

You stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Fuck, are you okay? Does it hurt?”

You panicked, desperately trying to think of some way to help him as he flailed.

He writhed for another moment then thankfully stilled, slowly raising his head to look at you again. He sounded wrecked when he spoke again: “No, no. It doesn’t hurt, not exactly. Not yet at least. It’s—it feels like...” He trailed off, glancing toward the floor.

You prompted him: “Like what?”

Before he could answer you, another wave wracked through him, and he thrashed against the restraints. You fought the urge to cross the space and soothe him. Even in the most stressful, life-threatening situations, Mando was always the picture of composure: calm, collected, calculating. So, it was unnerving to see him like this—overcome and out of control. You were itching to touch him, to ease his discomfort somehow. After another moment, he recovered.

When his visor found your face again, he rasped: “It feels like if I don’t fuck you right now, I’m going to die.”

His words hit you like a slap in the face. You swallowed hard, staring at him... all thoughts suddenly gone, mind completely blank.

He filled the fraught silence, straining forward slightly, his voice dipping an octave: “I want to fuck you so badly, baby.”

Your heart dropped at the unexpected pet name, a wave of wetness unapologetically gathering between your thighs.

Fuck. This was not at all the situation you had imagined—Mando drugged and chained up—but you had definitely dreamt of him saying some version of those words to you... on a regular basis, like maybe every night you ever spent with him on the Razor Crest.

He spoke again, trembling as he said: “This is fucking torture, you standing there, looking like that. And I can’t even fucking touch you. Shit. Shit. Shit. I want to—I want to touch you.”

Without your explicit permission, your feet moved you one step forward.

Mando shook his head back and forth violently, helmet jerking like he was trying to clear unwelcome thoughts by sheer force. “Dank ferrik, this is really fucking with my head. I’m-I’m sorry—I’m not myself.”

Only one question came to mind, one thing you were desperate to know.

“So...it’s just the drug?”

You waited, holding your breath, hoping he knew exactly what you were asking him.

He snapped his helmet up, meeting your gaze. He sounded surprisingly sober for a moment. “No. It’s not,” he stated bluntly. “I always want to fuck you. It’s just now I... I can’t control that urge.”

Suddenly, the drafty hull felt hot, suffocatingly so. You inched forward again.

His confession flooded you with courage. “What if... what if I want you to fuck me?”

Mando whined, body convulsing, shoulders collapsing forward as far as they could against his arm restraints. You were so shocked by the foreign sound that you actually took a step back—you’d never, ever heard him make a noise remotely close to that. You’d cauterized gaping wounds for him, removed a jagged blade from deep in his thigh, witnessed him take a blaster bolt to the side, sutured countless lacerations with no local anesthetic... but you’d never heard him whine. It was high and needy, desperate and pathetic as it grated through his modulator.

“Don’t-don’t say that, please don’t fucking say that to me right now... please... I c-can’t handle it.”

The chains creaked ominously, the links clanking together as he shifted against them.

“But, I mean it. I always want you to fuck me too,” you continued, ignoring Mando’s feeble requests.

You squeaked and flinched back again when Mando suddenly lunged forward, hands gripping the chains and pulling hard. His arms and legs were immediately wrenched back, his torso straining toward you. He panted: “Gods, you don’t know how long I’ve dreamt of you saying-saying that to me, mesh’la.”

Even through his visor, his stare was scalding, his gaze scorching your skin as he surveyed you, helmet trailing all the way down and back up your body.

You stepped toward him.

He jerked his head to the side suddenly, tearing his gaze away, and whined again—more quietly this time, more resigned. When he said the next words, you could hear how tightly his jaw was set: “Not like this. I-I won’t fuck you for the first time like this. I-I won’t forgive myself if I hurt you.”

You took another, much larger step forward.

“You won’t hurt me.”

He whipped his helmet up to watch you again. His voice was dangerous now, menacing, as he growled: “Yes, yes—I will. You don’t understand what this feels like. I can’t control myself—it’s a fucking miracle I didn’t take you the moment I walked back onto the ship and saw you sitting there—so kriffing gorgeous—and it’s only gotten worse.” He let out another frustrated growl, then continued: “I don’t just want to fuck you, I want to wreck you, I want-want to wreck you until you can’t walk and then fuck you again. I want to tear you apart. Ruin you with my cock.”

He said those words like a threat, but you couldn’t help the way they sent heat coursing through your veins, a shiver down your spine. You stepped toward him one more time. You were almost within his reach.

“DON’T,” he ordered, voice deadly serious. “Really, I can’t control myself. S-stay back.”

Even as he told you to stay away, though, he reached a hand out for you, legs and arms straining forward, trying to get closer to you. His mouth was saying one thing, his body begging for another.

You stayed where you were, just out of his reach, and asked: “How long will this last?”

“I don’t know... I hope no longer than a few hours. It’s already been at least an hour since I got hit. But it’s-it’s gotten worse.”

You could hear the exhaustion and exertion in his voice. He was barely holding it together, and you knew you needed to do whatever you could to make this easier on him, not harder. So, you shoved down your own selfish desire and with great reluctance, stepped away from him. You sat back down on the crate across from him and said, “Then, I guess… we’ll wait it out.”

He nodded vaguely, leaning against the wall behind him with a loud sigh.

You sat in uncomfortable silence for several long minutes. You busied yourself by reassembling your blaster. Every so often, the restraints jangled loudly when Mando was wracked by a brutal surge of need and struggled violently. You tried your best not to flinch every time it happened.

Eventually, he disrupted the silence by saying your name.

Before you even looked up at him, though, you knew—you knew that Mando was gone.

His voice had dropped several octaves, and it sounded different... honeyed, charming, drawling, depraved. It was fucking sultry. When you looked up at him, you immediately noticed his body language. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what exactly had changed, but something about him was off.

All you knew was that, suddenly, a dangerous stranger was standing across the hull from you. For the first time, you were truly grateful for those thick fucking chains.

His voice was smooth and calm when he said: “I need your help, sweetheart.”

You looked away from him, studying the silver sheen of the blaster in your hand instead. The way he rasped the word sweetheart would be burned into your brain for the rest of your life. It made your whole body feel hot.

“Come over here, beautiful,” he coaxed. “I’ve wanted you for so long, and now I know you want me too—you can’t hide from me anymore, princess.”

Princess. You didn’t answer. You just sat in silence and shrieked internally.

He said your name again—this time more urgently—then abruptly changed his tack: “Maker, this hurts so much now, it burns—I need you to make it stop hurting. Be a good girl and help me.”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek.

When you didn’t respond, he tested a third approach, his voice pitching low and sensual: “Please, cyar’ika, don’t you want me? I’m so fucking hard for you right now. I’ll make you feel so, so good, make you cum again and again. Just-just let me touch you. Let me show you.”

You stayed quiet, trying to remember how to breathe. He was playing all the angles—appealing to your conscience and your libido. The second strategy was harder to ignore.

“Come here and feel how hard I am for you.”

Fuck.

His voice was pure sin, purring and growling for you. He was fucking luring you in with it. He said your name one more time, and your resolve cracked a little.

You looked up at him, setting your blaster down beside you.

“Yes, that’s it, baby. Come over here.”

Against all odds, you stayed seated.

“Come make me feel good, and I’ll make you feel good.”

There was no way you could just sit and listen to this forever, so you made a decision. You shot to your feet.

“Yes, sweet girl, that’s right. I knew you’d do the right thing—always so good to me. Let me down from here, and I’ll take my time with you, show you all the things I’ve imagined doing to your body.”

Sweet fucking hell.

“I’m going to make you cum on my tongue so hard it hurts, and then I’m going to kiss it better.”

He was going to kill you.

You turned abruptly and walked to the ladder, placing your foot on the first rung.

“NO! Fuck—don’t do this,” he raged behind you. You could hear the squeak of the links shifting against each other as he heaved himself forward.

Steeling yourself, you started to ascend the ladder. The only way for you to survive this was to lock yourself in the cockpit, far away from the temptation of his damn voice.

Mando roared and thrashed behind you.

You were halfway up the ladder when you heard it—an angry metallic whine and the pattering of several small objects hitting the floor. You whipped your head around and watched as the durasteel panel that his right wrist restraint was fastened to began to peel away from the framework of the ship, several of the bolts already missing.

The piercing sound seemed to jolt Mando out of his drugged haze. When you dropped down from the ladder and faced him, you could tell that he was himself again. He stepped back against the wall, putting as much distance as he could between the two of you.

When he spoke, his voice had returned to its normal register and cadence, all business. “Fuck—fuck, you have to drug me. You have to.”

Your jaw dropped: “Drug you?? More?”

Words poured out of his mouth, desperate and rushed: “In the med kit,” he pointed, “there’s a shot—PLEASE, sedate me now. It’ll knock me out for a couple hours while the worst of this works through my system. Otherwise, these chains won’t hold. Please, just fucking do it—there’s nowhere that you can hide from me if I get out of these.”

When you didn’t move right away, he bellowed: “DO IT NOW.”

You scrambled over to the medkit, whipping it open and digging around.

“PROMISE ME—promise me you’ll do it, no matter what I say to you. Promise me right now that you’ll do it! Please.”

You looked up at him, your heartbeat loud in your ears. “I will, I promise, Mando.”

His shoulders slumped in relief.

You rooted around, moving past several other items—you took note of an intravenous hydration pouch and filed that information away for later—until you located the appropriate syringe of sedative.

As soon as you turned and approached Mando, you could tell he was lost again. He flipped so fast that if you’d blinked, you might have missed the subtle shift in his body language.

When you were just a few feet away from him, he threw out a palm—this time, not to reach for you, but to halt your advance.

First, he tried appealing to your reason.

“No, no, cyare, don’t. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. What if there’s an interaction between the drugs? Could be dangerous. There’s no way to know.”

It almost worked for a second.

You took another step toward him.

Next, he tried bargaining.

“How can I hurt you when I’m chained up like this? The rest of these will hold, I know they will. And it won’t matter anyways; I won’t need the restraints at all if you just help me—if-if you give me what I need.”

You looked away from him, training your gaze on the metal floor again. “You know that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. I was wrong before; it’s-it’s getting better. I can control myself now. I just need you, and everything will be okay. I’ll be—I’ll be gentle with you, so gentle, I promise.”

You forced out one word: “No.”

He didn’t say anything for a long, drawn-out moment. The tension was so thick that against your better judgment, you looked up again. He looked so anguished, so distressed... shoulders tense and fists clenched. You felt bad for him.

Finally, he tried straight-up seduction.

“Please—just, fuck—I need to fuck you. Your cunt, your mouth, let me fuck you. You can have me however you want me, love.”

All of a sudden, your thoughts were hazy, slow like molasses. You were stuck on the fact that he’d called you love.

“I think about fucking you right here in the hull, bending you over a crate and licking your perfect pussy until you cry for me. I always wonder what you’ll sound like when you’re taking my cock.”

You were trying to block out his words, to ignore the honey dripping from his lips. You just—you just wanted a taste.

“I have to know how you taste.”

So did he, apparently. You clenched your thighs. Fuck, you just wanted him to keep talking.

“I think you’ll make the sweetest fucking sounds when I make you cum—I’ve imagined it. I think you’ll whine for me—but I bet I can make you scream too.”

He’d wanted you, too—all this time.

All this time, you’d both been lusting after each other, separated by nothing more than the thin durasteel walls of this ship and a healthy dose of doubt.

“I just need to cum, and then this will all be better. I know it. The drug will leave my system. Don’t you want to help me?”

You did want to help him.

Your eyes wandered down his body, and your brain short-circuited when you saw the outline of his aching cock pressing against the fabric of his flight suit. It made your mouth water.

You wanted him. He wanted you. Why overthink it?

He could tell that it was working, that you were considering his words, so he continued cautiously, bargaining with you: “You don’t even have to unchain me. Just get down on your knees for me, like a good girl.”

Now THAT made you hesitate, made you stop in your metaphorical and physical tracks—but only because it sent a jolt of pure arousal down your spine, electricity igniting every goddamn nerve in your body so fast and intense it almost hurt.

“Don’t you want to open that mouth for me and suck my cock, pretty baby?”

As if on command, your jaw fell open, tongue darting out to lick your parted lips, and you took another step forward.

Oh, shit.

You did want to. You really fucking did. You wanted to get on your knees for him. You wanted to suck his cock and have him tell you how good you looked doing it. You were aching to hear his praise, to taste him, to make him feel good. He deserved relief.

And so did you.

You wouldn’t even have to unchain him. It would be fine. You’d be safe, and he would feel better.

You took another step.

You were close to him now—you didn’t realize you’d crept this close—almost within his reach.

Mando started talking again, capitalizing on this progress: “Gods, I’ve thought about your sweet mouth, those soft lips, wrapped around my cock, taking me down your throat so well. I think about it every fucking night when I fuck my fist. You’d look so good down on your knees for me, mesh’la.”

You watched as he got caught up in his own fantasy, mumbling on and on about every sinful thought he’d ever had about your mouth. You could tell his eyes were closed behind his visor, his head tipped back in bliss. Gradually, he started bucking his hips forward, like he could actually feel your lips around him, like he was chasing a phantom sensation. He was so completely absorbed in the picture he was painting, so drunk on the potential that for a second, he’d forgotten the literal hell he was currently in.

“Sometimes I can’t even focus when you talk to me because I’m just thinking about how your tongue would feel on the tip of my cock, licking me, sucking... so wet and warm, taking me deep like the good fucking girl you are, letting me fuck your mouth, until I’m cumming down your throat and you’re swallowing for me—swallowing everything I have to give you.”

Fuck, the picture he was painting was enticing you just as much as it was enticing him. It was a picture you’d had in your own head for months, one that you’d made yourself cum to so many times you’d lost count.

Before you could stop yourself, you took that final step toward him and extended your hand. You grazed your fingers over the bulge in his pants, and he was jolted out of his waking dream by your unexpected touch, snapping his helmet down to watch your fingers stroke him.

He choked on nothing. “Please, baby, please.” He was begging now, but his voice wasn’t soft or pleading like it had been when he was asking you to chain him up. Now, it was furious, demanding, and desperate.

He needed this.

Fuck, who were you kidding? You needed this.

You cupped him, pressing against his erection more firmly, and his hips pressed back, chasing that delicious friction. Your aching cunt clenched around nothing when you registered just how big his cock was under your hand.

You were so close to unbuckling his belt, to unzipping his pants. So fucking close. But a whisper of guilt in the back of your mind made you hesitate. The weight of the syringe in your left fist was an insistent reminder: you’d promised him—sane, right-in-his-mind Mando. You’d promised that Mando that you wouldn’t give in.

Fuck.

You stilled your hand.

Mando’s helmet snapped up, meeting your eyes, and tension pulled taut between you. You were both frozen, paralyzed—you by indecision and he by fury.

The seconds stretched on.

Mando broke first.

He ripped his right arm forward as hard as he possibly could, and with a furious squeal, the metal panel—the loose one you’d completely forgotten about—started to bend away from the wall even more, exposing a complicated mess of wires and pipes underneath. You watched as two more bolts popped out of place and clattered to the floor somewhere behind you. It was almost fully separated from the wall now; three remaining bolts along the bottom edge struggled to keep it in place against Mando’s brutal strength.

The screeching sound shocked you—dragging you forcefully back to reality—and you yanked your hand away from him, but at the same time, Mando’s heavy hand landed on your shoulder. He was finally able to reach you given the newfound slack in his restraint, and his fingers dug into your flesh, wrenching you forward.

He knocked his helmet against your forehead, holding you there with an iron grip.

Ouch.

You were so close to him that you could hear the words before and after they hit his modulator: “I know you want it. Take it. Take what you need, mesh’la. It’s yours.”

Every breath ripping from his lungs was harsh and labored, his chest heaving. You could feel the rage and pure need radiating off of him in waves. His left fist was clenched so tightly around the chain that the leather of his glove creaked.

“I can’t, Mando,” you said, stern but apologetic.

The energy in the hull shifted abruptly at your refusal, and you had the good sense to pull away from him just seconds before Mando reared back and launched himself forward, throwing his whole body toward you, only to be yanked back by the restraints. Those three bolts, the last hope of keeping Mando fully restrained, squeaked ominously as he jerked his limbs as hard as he could, the chains fully extended. He was snatching at the air a few inches from your chest.... reaching, reaching for you

And you were stuck, frozen in place, watching his grasping fingers hovering in front of you.

In a terrifying voice you didn’t even recognize, he roared: “GET ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES.”

Oh, he was truly lost. He was beyond recognition, beyond bargaining or soothing. He was enraged, throbbing with need. There was only one course of action now.

Another bolt clattered to the floor.

You dropped to your knees, careful to stay close to the ground and out of his reach as you crawled forward. You were trying so, so hard to not be distracted by the obvious strain of his thick cock against his pants, but now it was directly in front of your fucking face.

He pointed an accusing finger down at the syringe clutched in your left hand. “Don’t. Don’t. DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE.”

You ignored him, the needle poised over the unarmored part of his thigh. The next few moments played out in slow motion.

Mando bellowed: “NO!”

He ripped his arm forward again, and the metal panel whined, bending forward even more. Another bolt popped off, skittering across the floor and landing by your feet.

One. One single bolt remained in place.

And Mando’s right hand was suspended only a few inches above where you were crouched close to the ground.

Lightning fast, you jabbed the needle into his thigh and emptied it in a matter of seconds. He roared in anger, thrashing against the chains, trying to snatch at your hand. When the entirety of the drug had been injected, you ripped it away and scrambled backwards, getting to your feet. Mando struggled and shuddered for a moment, growling all the while, wrenching his arm farther and farther forward—the metal panel screaming as it bent—centimeter by centimeter.

It was too late—you’d waited too long, and he was going to rip it clean off the wall before the drug hit him.

You reached back blindly, relief spreading through you when your hand landed on Mando’s rifle, sitting amidst his pile of discarded weapons. You gripped it and flicked the controls, setting it to stun. Keeping your eyes fixed on Mando’s thrashing form, you sank slowly to one knee, propping the rifle up your other, ready to incapacitate him if necessary.

Your finger hovered over the trigger.

Mando’s movements were suddenly slower, weaker, less coordinated. You moved your finger away from the trigger and let out a breath of relief as the drug finally seemed to take hold. He took a faltering step backward, and his plated shoulders hit the wall with a hollow clang. He slurred something incoherent at you, and thankfully, finally... finally, he stilled, head sagging forward drunkenly, arms going slack. He slouched against the wall, knees giving out as he slid to the floor, arms extended up and to the sides by the restraints—the right much lower than the left—and his bent knees slightly splayed.

The position couldn’t be comfortable for him, but you were too scared to adjust his restraints—worried that so much movement would likely rouse him.

You waited a good twenty minutes—pacing back and forth as quietly as possible—finalizing the details of an idea in your head. You waited until you were totally sure he was knocked out before you approached him again. First, you placed his rifle in the middle of the floor—out of his reach, but in a position that you’d be able to grab it if needed. Then, you retrieved the hydration bag you'd noted earlier and your sharpest knife. With those supplies in hand, you tiptoed forward. You squatted on Mando’s left side, gripped his bicep lightly... and waited. When he didn’t move, you continued. You held your breath as you carefully, so carefully to avoid nicking his skin, cut a generous hole in his flight suit at his elbow.

Hopefully he wouldn’t mind that you were sort of butchering his favorite outfit—you’d offer to sew it later.

As hard as you tried not to, the movement jostled the chains, and they clanked and rattled. It was a quiet sound, but it felt so kriffing loud in the oppressive silence. Mando’s breath hitched slightly, disrupting the deep, regular rhythm of his sleep. His fingers twitched. You froze, then slowly set down your blade and started reaching back for his rifle.

To your immense relief, before you could wrap your hand around the stock, his breathing returned to normal—slow and steady.

You returned to your task, clipping the IV bag to a pipe on the wall above his slumped shoulder and cleaning the skin over the bulging vein visible through the soft flesh of his inner elbow. He didn’t react to the cold alcohol wipe, but he did jerk violently when you pressed the tip of the needle into his skin. You tensed, ready to drop everything and back away if you needed to, but he stilled again, muscles relaxing. You pressed the needle far enough into his vein and taped it in place. You double-checked that the drip was working, then backed away slowly, taking your blade and the rifle with you.

You waited like that, leaned against the opposite wall of the hull, Amban rifle never out of reach. You were unwilling to let him out of your sight, so you remained there, tense and waiting. When the IV bag was empty, you scurried forward and peeled back the tape on his arm—painfully slowly—and eased the needle out before you scrambled back to your spot.

Over two hours after he had passed out, he stirred, head lifting slowly.

“Mando?”

He looked around for a moment, studying his surroundings. He gripped the chains in his fists and attempted to pull himself up, faltering slightly before he eventually succeeded by bracing his back against the wall. He looked slightly unsteady on his feet. His visor found your face across the hull, and he rasped your name.

“How do you feel?”

His voice was dry and croaky. “Better... I feel better. Normal.”

“Good.”

He stood there, relaxed, getting his bearings. All the rage and tension had left his body. He looked like Mando again.

“How long has it been?”

“Since I knocked you out? About two hours.”

He cocked his helmet. “I thought the drug would have lasted longer.”

“I gave you fluids to flush it out of your system faster,” you explained, tapping the inside of your own elbow to demonstrate.

He looked down at his cut up shirt.

“Good thinking,” he nodded.

“Yeah, and thank fucking Maker it worked,” you laughed. “You started to get scary there at the end.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, hanging his head in shame.

“Do you remember anything?”

He looked up at you. “I remember everything.” Then, glancing up at the bent panel above his right shoulder, he continued, “I’m sorry, mesh’la. I would never have forgiven myself if I hurt you.”

You noted the use of a pet name, wondering if this new habit of his would persist. You hoped it would.

You gave him a sympathetic look, shaking your head. “You weren’t yourself. You have nothing to apologize for.”

He nodded. “Still—I’m sorry. But, you can unchain me. It’s safe now. I promise.”

You stayed where you were.

He seemed normal again, but you’d witnessed just how persuasive drugged Mando could be.

Luckily, he could read your hesitation. “It’s okay,” he reassured you. “I understand. Let’s give it some more time. I want you to feel safe.”

He leaned back against the wall and started sliding down to his seated position.

His sudden patience was all the confirmation you needed.

“I believe you.”

He flicked his head back up to look at you and straightened, watching you as you took a few steps toward him.

“Did you mean what you said?”

He quirked his helmet at you. “About what?”

You wavered for a second, doubt creeping into your mind. What if it really was the drug talking the whole time? What if he only said all those things because he was out of his mind, desperate to fuck anyone... and you just happened to be in front of him?

You steeled yourself. The only way to know was to ask: “That you want me? That you’ve always wanted me?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“It wasn’t just the drug talking?”

He scoffed: “No, it wasn’t.”

A mixture of relief and want settled in your belly. And you could finally have what you wanted.

You approached him slowly. When you were standing directly in front of him, instead of reaching for his restraints, you hooked your fingers in his belt. Mando watched your movements, his arms straining forward slightly.

“What are y—”

He choked on his words when you started to unbuckle his belt. He moaned when you unzipped his fly and pulled out his aching cock. It was still red and leaking, throbbing with need in your hand. His mind might have been clear, and he might have been in control of himself now, but the physical effects of the drug had clearly not worn off fully.

You looked up at him through your lashes and licked your lips suggestively, then flicked your eyes back down to his cock in your hand.

Mando’s head dropped back against the wall with a hollow clank. “Oh shit, oh fuck, yes p-please, baby, please—”

Before he could finish his stuttering request, you sank to your knees and took him as far into your mouth as you possibly could. He let out a broken moan when he slipped past your lips, canting his hips forward to chase the welcoming heat of your mouth. He was big, and you had to wrap your hand around the base of his cock to cover the length that wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

He shuddered above you, tilting his helmet down to watch you. You paused there, holding him, hot and heavy on your tongue. You waited a long moment, taking advantage of the fact that he was totally at your mercy. The longer you waited, the more he fidgeted, hips inching forward, cock twitching impatiently.

“I—”

When he started to speak, you interrupted him by giving him exactly what he wanted, hollowing your cheeks around him and sucking hard. You thought back to what he’d said to you, replaying all those things he’d imagined you doing to him. You pulled back to circle your tongue along the head of his leaking cock and flicked it along his slit, working the rest of him with your slick hand.

While you bobbed up and down on him, your other hand wandered up his thigh and rucked his pants lower, easing his balls free. You massaged them, manipulating them between your fingers, and Mando’s head lolled back again, his helmet clunking dully against the wall. His knees buckled slightly, the chains connected to his wrists pulling taut as he gripped them. In the space where you had cut his shirt away, you could see his muscles rippling, the veins swelling under his golden brown skin as he flexed.

Taking him in your mouth had you aching for him, clenching your thighs together to try and relieve the growing tension. Losing patience, you released his balls and snaked that hand under your own waistband to press down on your swollen clit and whined around his thick cock.

Mando snapped his head down at the needy sound. His helmet followed your movement, and he gritted out, “Shit, does this turn you on, sucking my cock like this? Are you wet for me, mesh’la?”

You hummed around his cock and ran your fingers through your wet folds then extracted your hand from your pants, reaching up to drag your glistening fingertips over Mando’s knuckles where his fist was clenched around the chains.

“Fuuhhh-ckkk, I can’t wait to taste you, to feel how wet you are.”

With that same hand, you reached down and unzipped your pants. Mando let out an inarticulate string of syllables above you as he watched you tug your pants and panties halfway down your thighs with one hand. You let him slip from your mouth for a moment—working him over with long, tight strokes of your slippery hand in the meantime—to say, “Keep talking, tell me how you’re going to fuck me, Mando.”

You took him back into your mouth, and as you rubbed tight circles over your clit, he started rambling on about all the things he wanted to do to you, all the ways he wanted to explore your body: “F-fuck yes, I want to taste your pussy, I want to watch you finger yourself just like this until you’re dripping then-then let me lick your fingers clean—”

You whined around his girth; your body was responding to his words, the tension coiling tight and hot in your core. Your knees slid apart slightly on the slippery metal floor. They were going to be bruised blue and purple tomorrow. Worth it.

“Th-then I want to put a blindfold on you and-and lick your clit until you cum on my tongue. Yeah—oh shit, baby, yes, just like that, hnghhh—then, then I want to fuck you from behind, hard and deep, until you’re soaking my co—”

You moaned shamelessly, the sound vibrating deep in your throat, and Mando choked above you.

“Are-are you going to make yourself cum with my cock in your mouth?”

His visor was glued to your face, the lip resting on his chestplate, as he angled his head down to watch you. You nodded slightly, eyes wide and desperate, pupils blown with lust, as you did your best to keep up your steady pace on his cock while you were simultaneously falling apart yourself. As the tension in your body built, your mouth and hand faltered on him, losing their rhythm, and your ministrations were suddenly stunted and irregular.

“Gods, you’re so kriffing perfect—use both hands on yourself, put-put your—”

You had all but stopped moving everything but the hand between your legs, eyes falling closed as you focused completely on your own impending orgasm. Following his directions, you dropped the hand on his cock down to your cunt, spreading your thighs more to push two fingers inside yourself. You let out another muffled noise, and you could tell Mando loved the sounds you made with his cock stuffed in your mouth by the way his hips bucked forward.

One of your hands worked over the stiff peak of your clit, the other thrusting your fingers in and out of you, and that feeling—that delicious, fucking fantastic tension that had been building since the moment Mando had said he wanted to fuck you hours ago—threatened to snap.

“K-keep it in your mouth, just like that and make yourself cum—you’re close, I can tell you’re close—shit, fucking shit—”

He was throbbing on your tongue, pulsing with need. In the absence of the slick sounds of your mouth and hand working over his length, you could hear the sound of your own wetness as your fingers moved in and out of your dripping cunt.

“That’s right, pretty baby, cum with my cock in your mouth—fuck, I can hear how wet you are—look-look up at me—”

You opened your eyes and looked up at him just as your cunt tightened around your fingers. You let out a muffled wail around his girthy length as you came, and he groaned low and deep as he pressed his hips forward to keep himself buried in your mouth.

You slowed your hands to a still as the final reverberations of your pleasure waned, your moan fading to a quiet whimper. You pulled off Mando’s cock with a slick pop to take a deep, shuddering breath.

“Now you’re going to cum in my mouth.”

“Fuuckk—”

You gripped the base of his hard, leaking cock and wrapped your lips around him once more.

Right away, he started thrusting into your mouth, his knees buckling, most of his weight suspended on the chains gripped in his hands.

“C-close—”

His voice cut out, words replaced by feral moans and grunts, as he bucked into you.

You hummed around him, running your free hand up his quad, hooking it around the back of his leg to hold him in place against you. You could feel the way his muscles strained and clenched under your palm as his body grew taut.

“I’m—hnngh—”

He came with a hoarse shout that quickly got so loud that his voice cracked and gave out completely. And when you thought he was done, he was somehow still cumming, spilling hot and salty down your throat. You swallowed around him, taking everything he had to give you, until he stilled and you let him slip out of your mouth.

You pulled your pants up loosely around your hips and stood in front of him, swiping your knuckles across your glistening bottom lip.

Mando caught his breath and straightened, using the chains to pull himself up. That yank on his arm restraints proved to be the final straw for that solitary remaining bolt. You both whipped your heads up when—with a defeated whine—that piece of durasteel was ripped away, skidded down the wall, and crashed to the floor.

You looked at each other at the same time.

“So... how do you want me first?”

“Unchain me, and I’ll show you.”

***

everything taglist: @chattychell @dincrypt @fisforfulcrum @iamskyereads @lexloon @meanperegrine @over300books @rebelpitstop @spideysimpossiblegirl @tacticalsparkles @tobealostwanderer @trashbuns @pentechnics @gracie7209 @tuskens-mando @absurdthirst

~lounging~ Sketch as done as its likely gonna be? Idk I have too many things going on lol

*plays the jedi order’s next top model instead of fighting vader*

claire!! my love!!

i was just wondering if you could write me something for din using the prompts

“H-how long have you been standing there?” &

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

maybe you could also throw in a lil bit of din the dilf’s breeding kink??

(could you uh make it extra smutty and make my ovaries explode??)

thank you!! i love you!!!!

OMG Jo, seriously, you’re KILLING me over here. This was sooooo filthy and fun to write LOL. I hope you like it!! 😘

Word count: 5860+

Outline: “Mando”/Din x “You” (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ ONLY; Din eavesdropping; female masturbation; Din physically crowding you up against a wall; a sprinkling of angst; blackout room conditions so Din can remove the helmet; breeding kink; unprotected P/V sex; Din has a filthy mind and a filthy praise-kink mouth to match; BREEDING KINK out the wazoo; a little bit of sexy anticipation, then a little bit of romance, and then just pure SMUT

You opened the door to the hallway after your shower and let the cool air wash over you as you got dressed. You knew Mando was up in the cockpit fiddling with something that was going to take a while, and the small bathroom was entirely too steamy for your liking. The vent fan never seemed to keep up with the hot water you luxuriated in after a mission like this.

You and Mando had been on a desert planet for three days, braving periodic dust storms to find the bounty, and the endless waves of dirt had seeped into your mouth and nose. It had even seemed to settle into your joints, making them ache. You finished toweling off and stepped into your underwear.

“Dammit!” Your foot caught on the waistband but you recovered your balance quickly. You started to wonder what would happen if Mando walked in on you, caught you naked. Would he even notice? He didn’t treat you like a woman while you were hunting or fighting together. If he saw you naked it would probably be nothing. He would probably treat you like you had simply taken off a cape or a glove.

But during the nine months you had spent with him, working alongside him, talking to him in the little short conversations he actually held with you, you had fallen in… maybe not love, but something like it. Lust maybe, or yearning, or something equally desperate. You didn’t want to call it love when you didn’t even know his name.

Thoughts of Mando were starting to fill your every waking moment. You fantasized constantly about ripping off his armor and his cape, licking every inch of the expanse of skin underneath, seeing his face and making genuine eye contact. You touched yourself so often in your bunk before sleep that you had forgotten to be quiet a few times. But his stoic posturing and lack of any indication to you that he saw you, or that he recognized that you were a woman at all only drove your infatuation. It was hell.

“Man probably doesn’t have a single atom of sexuality in his body.” You muttered to yourself as you looked in the mirror and applied cream to your desert-dry skin. “I could probably lay naked across his lap and he wouldn’t even notice. Fucking sexy goddamn idiot, walking around like he’s swinging the galaxy’s biggest dick. Fuck me.”

You propped one foot up on the edge of the sink and started to apply cream to your leg. “Fucking sexy moron. Probably doesn’t even notice I have boobs. Might as well be a fucking frog lady for all he notices.”

You began to wonder if talking to yourself was a sign of some kind of hyperdrive-induced madness. Not that it mattered. Your only conversation partner was so closed off, so short with his answers that you might as well talk to yourself. You shrugged and switched to your other leg.

“Maybe I should jump him, make him notice me for once. Ha, like that would do anything. He’d probably freeze me in carbonite so that he doesn’t have to hear me talking so much.” You put your foot down and slathered cream on your arms and shoulders, following your weird train of thought.

“... or maybe he’s into that. Real weird shit, like freezing women in carbonite and jerking off on them?” You held that mental image in your brain for a half-second too long and then shuddered.

“Ew. Gross. Or maybe he’s just into normal kinky shit and hasn’t been around a woman in so long he’s forgotten how it works.”

You grabbed your toothbrush and started to clean your teeth. You spit out a mouthful of foam and then pointed the toothbrush at your reflection while you continued.

“Maybe you’re it, sweetheart.” You winked and smiled at yourself. “Maybe you’re just the woman he needs to remind him what love is. Ha! Love…”

You smirked at yourself and continued brushing. You spit out the final mouthful of foam and leaned close to the mirror, looking at your eyeballs and gums up close, inspecting yourself for signs of ill health. You lowered your voice in a parody of a sexy accent.

“Or maybe you’re just the woman he needs to remind him how luxurious a warm pussy and a pair of boobs feel in the dark when you’re out in the cold reaches of space.”

You nodded once at your reflection, as if a vital consensus with mirror-you had been reached. You stepped into your sleeping pants and slippers and pulled your shirt on over your head. You grabbed your toiletries bag and stepped out the door, taking a left toward your bunk.

You ran into a wall of Beskar. Oh fuck.

Mando was standing with his shoulder propped against the wall between the ‘fresher and your bunk. The ladder to the cockpit was about six steps behind you, which meant that he hadn’t just come down the ladder, because you would have seen him in the mirror while you were talking to yourself, which meant… Oh FUCK.

“H-how long have you been standing there?” Your voice was high and squeaky.

Mando didn’t respond, just tilted his helmet an inch to the side, like he was studying you. You felt your stomach flip over and something warm and wet rushed to your crotch. You hoped you hadn’t just peed yourself a little from fear.

You were about to open your big mouth and make some excuses about dust madness or sleep deprivation when you heard him sigh… or you thought you did anyway. It was hard to discern that soft of a sound through his modulator while your heart was pounding in your ears.

“Long enough,” was all he said, and then he walked past you and climbed the ladder to the cockpit.

You stood, rooted to the spot for ages, until you shook your head clear and went to your bunk. Maybe that hadn’t happened at all. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe you should get some sleep.

You tossed and turned for ages, trying to pinpoint the exact moment where Mando could have crossed the hall without you seeing him in the mirror, and trying to recall exactly what you had said and when. Either he had crossed the hall outside the ‘fresher door in the half second when you had pulled your shirt over your head, or he had been there since you got out of the shower and opened the door. If he had been there since you opened the door, that meant that he had heard everything, every crazy thought that you had voiced. But if he had somehow only crossed the hall while you were pulling on your shirt, then why would he have said ‘Long enough’?

Your panicked calculations ran over and over in your head, doing nothing to calm your distress. The more you thought about Mando, the more you wanted him. Okay, so what if he overheard everything? Did that change anything? No. Apparently he had decided to just… not react to it. He had swept past you and made for the ladder, and in that moment where he shared your space you had caught a whiff of his scent, that mix of cold metal and scruffy wool, the musk of something salty and warm that lay just underneath, which must be just him.

As you thought about that moment in the hall, your fingers moved almost automatically to the waistband of your sleeping pants, and you savored the coolness of your fingers when they met the warm mound of flesh just under your navel. You stroked yourself there, moving lower with each graze of your fingertips until you felt the first whisper of the coarse curls that dusted your pubic mound. You brushed your fingers along, moving lower and lower until they reached the valley between your outer lips, the crevice that you opened with a single sweep of your finger, where warmth and wetness lay buried.

You propped your legs open and found your clit, the little bud that made you gasp when you touched it and made you want to cry Mando’s name loud enough to echo through the whole ship. You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans while you rubbed harsh circles around your clit, dipping your fingers occasionally into the pool of slick that was growing by the minute. You dragged the wetness back up to your nub of nerves and kept going, harder, faster, almost punishing yourself for daring to even think about Mando that way.

He clearly didn’t want you, and the idea that you might end up torturing yourself like this for months or years longer produced an ache, a soul-deep longing to just stay close to him no matter what the circumstances, so that you could keep getting the little glimpses of him that fed your obsession. Once he had reached for a lever in the cockpit and you had caught a flash of skin at his wrist, a centimeter of flesh that fueled your bedtime fantasies for weeks.

And then just now in the hall, that rush of air in his wake as he passed you, the smells of him that combined to make him: his scent, his aura, his presence. That salt-metal-musk of him, and a hint of soap, the buttery-woodsy scent that perfumed the steamy bathroom after he had showered. You had gone in once right after he left the ‘fresher before the vents had cleared it, and the smell of his soap, so masculine and clean, had made your cunt clench. After that you seemed to find excuses almost every time to use the ‘fresher immediately after he had showered and vacated it.

You felt like a creep but you liked smelling his soap, liked the way the steam warmed your face and made it prickle as you sat and inhaled a part of him that was there but couldn’t be seen. It was almost a religious experience like that, ephemeral and intangible, with the undercurrent of shame and fear of being caught. What kind of weirdo sits and smells someone else’s shower steam and gets turned on?

The memory of all the times you had touched yourself like this before, in your bunk and in your shower and in the steamy bathroom inhaling the clouds of Mando’s soap-scent all crashed down on you at once, and a cry ripped from your throat.

You bit it off halfway and it ended with an “-mmmh!” You hadn’t heard any sounds from beyond your door, so you weren’t worried that Mando had heard you. He was probably still up in the cockpit, fiddling endlessly with knobs and buttons, trying to extract the best fuel efficiency possible. You rubbed yourself more gently until your climax shuddered to a stop, and then it was over.

You wrapped yourself up in your blankets and slept like a rock.

The next morning you woke up tense and nervous about seeing Mando. Despite being sure that he had decided to ignore what he had heard, you were still anxious about facing him. You got dressed and stuck your head out your door, not seeing him out in the hallway. Your shoulders relaxed a bit. You decided to try to just go up to the cockpit like normal. If he was going to ignore it, you could do the same… or at least you could try.

You closed your door behind you just in time for his heavy footsteps to descend the ladder from the cockpit. Fuck.

“Morning,” you mumbled. He hit the ground and turned to you, not moving a muscle. Oh stars, here we go, you thought to yourself.

He nodded his helmet at you once in greeting. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, yes. Yes I did, thank you… You?” You made awkward, polite conversation back, even though you were half convinced he didn’t ever sleep at all. Just one more mystery of the Mandalorian you were probably never going to solve. But at least he didn’t seem like he was interested in talking about anything he may have overheard, or that he was offended enough to kick you off the ship, so that was a relief.

“Yes.” He held his visor trained on you from just a few feet away. You found yourself fixing your gaze on his neck, not bold enough to look him directly in the region of his eyes like you normally did.

You waited for him to say more. When he didn’t you found yourself nervously trying to fill the silence.

“Um, what’s on today’s schedule? We still traveling or did you want to stop anywhere? I mean, I’m fine with either option, I don’t need to stop. But if you wanted to-”

“No.”

You were almost grateful for the way he interrupted you.

“If you still want me to repair the-”

“No.”

You were starting to feel a little bit of panic. The topics of traveling and ship repairs were pretty much all you had to rely on without resorting to an awkward silence... or worse, broaching the subject of last night. You vowed not to ever talk about that if you could help it.

You nodded once and then fixed your gaze on the toes of your boots. You put your hands behind your hips and leaned back against the closed door of your bunk in a parody of a relaxed posture. You folded your lips in between your teeth and bit down, forcing yourself to look back up at his visor. If this silence lasted any longer, you were going to break and start chattering nonsense just to fill the void.

Mando took a step toward you and you involuntarily flinched. He paused, and you were filled with regret. Had you scared him off? Had you made things that terrible and awkward? Was he going to kick you off the ship?

You forced yourself to breathe evenly, in and out through your nose. In the quiet it sounded like you were taking big shuddering gasps of air. Fuck, I can’t even breathe like a normal person.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” Mando’s voice was low, and you weren’t sure you had heard him correctly.

You stuttered, “Wh- What? What do you mean?”

“Did you,” he took another step closer, “...enjoy yourself last night?”

Oh fuck, so he was going to talk about your embarrassing bathroom monologue after all. Fuck fuck fuck.

“No, I-” You forced yourself to at least maintain eye contact with his visor as you stumbled over your words. “I don’t enjoy that kind of thing. I mean, I don’t do it for fun, I was just, ummm... bored and I- It’s not fun for me or anything. I mean, I don’t- I don’t always- Look, I know it was rude and I’m sorry.”

“So,” he moved closer, nearly towering over you where you leaned against the wall, “...you didn’t enjoy that... last night?”

You gulped and stuttered more nonsense. “No, I- I mean, I was just trying to fill some time and I thought I was going a little, you know, nuts after that last mission. I’m sorry if you overheard me. I mean- I just- I-”

“Because it sounded to me like you were enjoying yourself.”

“Ummm… no- no, sir,” Oh fuck, did I just call him sir? What the fuck is wrong with me?

You tried again, “I’m sorry if you overheard me. I was- It was rude, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

Mando propped one arm against the wall near your head, boxing you in. You wouldn’t be able to untangle your own arms from behind you without pushing your body against his.

He inclined his visor lower and purred, “What you said?”

“Yes, in the ‘fresher, I’m sorry you overheard me with the door open, talking to myself about you. I’m- I won’t do it again.”

He tilted his visor just an inch lower, and you got the distinct impression he was enjoying this, enjoying watching you squirm.

“I wasn’t talking about the ‘fresher.”

Your heart stopped for what felt like a full second, and then picked back up at double speed.

“What?” Your voice was a mere squeak, barely a whistle of air forming one word.

“I wasn't talking about the ‘fresher.” Mando’s voice was low, as dangerous as you had ever heard him.

Your eyes were glued to the curved black of his visor, and you couldn’t form coherent thoughts or any words besides stuttering out another weak, “W- what?”

Mando brought his free hand up to your face. His fingers were curled just under your chin, the pad of one huge thumb pressed flat under your lower lip.

“I was talking about you touching yourself in your bunk where you think I can’t hear every moan that you make. Where you think I can’t hear you fucking your own fingers practically every night, for months.” He was holding your chin in place with his gloved fingers. Under any other circumstances you would have been drooling with lust from both your mouth and your pussy. But this was torture.

You let a small sigh out, and it felt like all of your last bit of life force went with it. For the first time in your life, you felt like you were going to faint. You managed to shudder a great heaving breath in and stay upright. You had survived worse, you could manage to get through this little embarrassment, and then you could make your break from the ship, leave the Mandalorian, and go to whichever corner of the galaxy he wasn’t going to be in. You tried to remind yourself that nobody ever died from a little embarrassment.

“I- I…” You tried to form some kind of rational thought, and then you seized on a little spark of anger. You jerked your chin sideways to get it loose from his fingers, and then you scowled up at his visor. You tried to get very angry at the idea of him listening in, when that was actually all you had wanted for months.

“That was private, Mando. Are you saying that I should be embarrassed about a biological function of the human body? Masturbation is normal.”

He practically whispered, and you had to strain to hear him over your own pounding heart.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t normal, sweetheart. I asked if you had enjoyed yourself, because it sounded to me like you did. Contrary to popular belief, I have noticed that you’re a woman, and I do have at least one atom of sexuality in my body. I’ve touched myself at night, too, thinking about you.”

Oh stars, if embarrassment couldn’t kill you, the sudden jump in arousal might. You felt your stomach flip and your pussy clenched hard around nothing. The fresh clean underwear you had put on this morning was drenched.

You couldn’t speak, but Mando seemed to be fine continuing his train of thought. “And if you wanted any help in that department, I know a certain ‘sexy moron’ who might be able to assist.”

“Oh fuck.” Your voice was back to a squeak.

“That’s not an answer.” He tilted his visor just a degree to the right. “Do you want my help with that?”

You closed your eyes and nodded vigorously, nearly headbutting his helmet. “Yeah, yes. Yes please. Yes.”

“Good.” Mando stood back from the wall and put his hands on his hips. Now that he wasn’t crowding you, you felt like you could breathe again.

He held one gloved hand out to you. “We have at least a few hours with the ship on autopilot. Your bunk or mine?”

“Yours.” You pushed yourself off the wall and nearly fell. Your legs had gone numb. Mando caught you around your waist and looked down at you.

“Ground rules first. One, you can’t see my face. We have to leave all of the lights off.”

You nodded up at him. “Yeah, okay. I’m okay with that.”

“Good. Two, you have to stop creeping into the ‘fresher after every shower I take. That’s weird, cyar'ika.”

Your eyes fluttered closed and you laughed. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

“Three, you can call me Din. It’s my name. But you only use it when we’re alone, got it? Everywhere else we go, I’m still ‘Mando’ to you.”

You looked back up at his visor with your best, most honest face. “Yeah, I can do that… Din. That’s nice.”

Mando released you and held your hand as you walked the three steps over to his bunk’s door. He opened it and motioned for you to get inside. You kicked off your boots and crawled up on the bed. Mando closed the door and started to remove his armor and his layers of underclothes. You took the hint and started to undress yourself.

You lay naked on the bed, taking in the sight of him as he disrobed in the dim light. It was odd that he could get entirely naked and let you see his cock, his broad shoulders, thick and solid muscles from fighting, scars and all… but not his face.

As if he could read your thoughts, he turned to you and said, “I can’t let you see my face unless we’re married, unless you’re my riduur, my wife.”

You blinked at that, the thought of being lucky enough to become his wife was dizzying, potent and attractive.

You had a sudden thought and sat up, dangling your legs off the side of the bed. “Are we- are we ruining that? If we do this can I still be- I mean, we’re not supposed to wait until after marriage, right?”

“We?”

“I’ve been on your ship for months, Mand- I mean, Din.” You shook your head to clear it.

“I’ve been lusting after you since the first time you said my name. I’ve been half distracted by thoughts of you every day since I got here…” You trailed off, unsure of how to say what you were trying to say without just coming right out and saying it.

Din moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed next to you. “Are you saying you want to do more than just fuck?”

“Well… yeah. I mean, if I just wanted a fuck I could’ve gone to any brothel right near the landing pads, at any of the places we’ve stopped.” You looked down at your lap, somehow more embarrassed by the admission that you hadn’t had sex in months than you had been by all of the conversation up to now.

Mando slipped one of his broad hands into yours, intertwining his fingers. The warmth and the new, strange sight of his calloused hand holding yours so gently gave you the courage to finish voicing your thoughts.

“But I… I didn’t want that. I don’t want just a fuck…” You looked back up at his visor and took a steadying breath in. “I want you, Din. I love you.”

Din let a long breath out, “Cyar'ika, I- I’m happy to hear you say that, but I don’t want you to get into anything with me that you might regret.”

Your voice was quiet. “Does that mean you don’t love me?”

He turned you to face him, broad hands holding your shoulders. “No, that’s not what it means. I- I’ve felt the same way about you since you got here. But I had to hide it because this is a hard life that I’ve chosen.”

“I know that, Din-”

He cut you off. “No. This is it. We may not be able to settle down or stay in one place. I can’t guarantee that there will be any luxury or softness in your life. It means that I love you so much that I want you to be absolutely sure of what you’re choosing, if you choose me.”

You blinked up at him. Did he really not see?

“Din, I’ve fought alongside you for months. I thought that I had proved myself capable, but if you think I’m weak or I can’t handle it-”

“Mesh’la, I know you can handle it, I know you can fight and that you’re strong. But it has to be your choice.” He took both of your hands in his. “You can’t choose this on a whim. You have to choose with your eyes open.”

He brought his hand back up to grip your chin again, thumb planted firmly to tilt your face up to his. You saw yourself reflected in his visor, and you realized instantly that your face looked just as determined as you felt inside. You brought both hands up to wrap them around his shoulders, stroking the skin on the back of his neck. He dropped his hand from your face and wrapped both arms around your waist.

“My eyes are open, Din, and I choose you. If you need more time, if you don’t want to decide right now, I’ll wait for you. I’ll stay and fight alongside you and prove my love to you a thousand times if that’s what it takes. But I choose you, and everything that goes along with that choice.”

Din bent his head to yours and touched the front of his helmet to your forehead. The gesture was strangely somehow more intimate than the fact that you were sitting naked next to one another on his bunk. You sighed and closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling of him under your fingertips, the contrast of the cool metal against your forehead, the warmth of his soft skin where it pressed against yours.

“I want you to have my warriors, mesh’la. Do you want that? Do you want me to father your children?”

Your arousal surged back suddenly. YES, your entire body screamed at you. You inclined your head back and leaned your face up to kiss the top of his visor.

“I’d love nothing better, Din. If you want me, I’m yours. I’ll bear twenty warriors if you want me to.”

“Mesh’la, I-” He stopped. “Not here. I can’t marry you here. You deserve to do it on some beautiful green planet, to wear flowers in your hair and say your vows with me in the sunlight.”

“Okay, Din. Whatever you say. I don’t care where we make our vows.” You stroked your hands down his broad shoulders and gripped his biceps. “I’ll do it here, I’ll do it on the farthest-flung planet if you say so. I’ll do whatever you say, whatever it takes to call myself your wife.”

He leaned his helmet to your head again, and whispered, “Cyar'ika, my beautiful girl. My girl… close your eyes.”

You sat back on the bed and closed your eyes. Din got up and you heard the soft hiss of his helmet coming off, then a thud as he laid it carefully on the floor. Then there was a soft click as he turned the lights off before he joined you on the bed. He gently pushed you onto your back, and you felt him recline next to you, your bodies and legs pressed together as he lay on his side facing you.

His voice was strange without the modulator, somehow the same velvety tone, but entirely different altogether. “You can open your eyes, cyar'ika.”

You did, and found that the entire bunk was dark, no seam or seep of light from the hallway around the door. You turned your face to Din and whispered his name, “Kiss me.”

He did, and you melted into it. You realized suddenly that although you had spent so many months fantasizing about what he looked like under his helmet, you actually didn’t care now. You just wanted to feel him and be with him. To be his.

You felt his erection grow hot and hard against your leg, and you whimpered as his tongue probed your mouth. His lips were soft, his kisses languid and deliberate. You were split in two by the desire to take your time like this, and the equally strong throbbing in your clit that urged you to hurry along to the fucking.

You decided to let him go as slow as he wanted. There would be plenty of time for that later, and you suddenly realized just how quickly things had moved to this point. This was your first time kissing the man who would be your husband. The thought of it nearly bowled you over. Last night in front of the mirror you had called him some very bad things while also somehow complimenting him, and then you had touched yourself in desperation like you had almost every night for the last nine months. And now, here you were in his bunk, naked together and engaged to be married. There was no need to rush things.

Din kissed you like he was trying to memorize you, and you gave him the best of yourself in return. You whispered and murmured sweet words to him in between kisses, licked into his mouth with the same vigor that he licked into yours, and stroked his cheek with your fingers.

“Din, I love you so much. I want to be yours forever.” You kissed him deeply and pulled his hand down to rest on your belly. “Please give me children. Please let me carry a part of you inside me. I want you to fill me up with your seed, let it grow inside my womb.”

“Mesh’la,” he nearly whined at that.

He kissed you again more aggressively as he rolled himself on top, bracing himself on his hands above you. You gripped his forearms just below his elbows and got wetter at the feel of the hard muscles under his hot skin. He was strong, you had seen that in action many times, but the corded muscles just under the skin were proof of his presence, the man under the armor.

The realization that you would be the only woman for the rest of his life to feel him this way made you moan.

“Din, take me. Please? Take me now.”

He whispered to you in the dark, “I will, mesh’la. I’m going to fuck you and fill you up. Fill you with my semen. You’re going to have my baby.”

You opened your legs wide, feeling the heat ebb from your throbbing cunt. Din shifted against you and you felt his cock press against your seam. He rolled his hips away from you, and in the next moment he was halfway inside, kissing you hard as he moaned into your mouth.

You wrapped your legs around his hips and pulled him into yourself, feeling ravenous and greedy, wanting every inch of him inside of you as soon as you could. You reached up to caress his neck and cup the back of his head. You were surprised to find that his hair was soft, and that it curled down to the nape of his neck. You hadn’t given a thought to his hair, other than to note that his pubic hair and body hair was dark when he undressed. You just hadn’t spared a thought to what the hair under his helmet would look like, or if he even had any at all.

You were instantly curious about the color of Din’s eyes, and whether your children would look more like him, or like you. You smiled into his kisses in the dark, savoring that sweet wonderment as your husband-to-be fucked into you, rolling his hips against yours in the dark and joining the two of you forever.

Din started huffing out words that landed somewhere between devotion and depravity, filled with more emotion than you had heard from him in all of the preceding months.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, mesh’la. I’m gonna fill you up and fuck a warrior into you, fill you with my cum and watch you grow round. You’re going to glow with my baby growing inside of you.”

You moaned and spasmed around his cock, chills of electricity running up and down your spine as he growled out more of his filthy praise.

“You’re going to look so beautiful, cyar'ika, so fucking gorgeous after I fill your hot cunt with my seed. You’re going to take it all and let it fill you- fucking fill you up until you’re bursting… my good girl.”

You felt your climax growing, and you pulled your knees up high so that he could thrust even deeper.

“More, Din-” you huffed out the words as best you could. “Tell me more. Fuck me more.”

He began thrusting harder, stuttering out his words with each plunge of his meaty cock into your wet, hot center.

“You’re- fucking- beautiful. Fucking gorgeous.” He kissed you hurriedly, eager to spill more dirty talk into you. “We’re going to take- take our vows tomorrow- take our time after that- fuck you until you’re dripping with my cum. Fuck a warrior into that ripe womb of yours.”

“Oh fuck, Din. I’m gonna come. Keep going.”

“Touch yourself for me, cyar’ika. Touch that beautiful cunt and make her swallow me whole.”

You cried out at that and then reached down to find your clit, to coax yourself over the edge as Din continued to utter his honeyed filth into your soul.

“You’re going to carry- carry my warriors, mesh’la. Grow round with my baby inside you- spill honey from your breasts for my child.” He groaned and you could tell he was close.

“I’m going to fill your hot cunt with my seed, m- make you froth with my cum, cyar’ika. Everyone will know who you belong to.”

He thrust even harder, ramming his cock into a spot deep inside of you that made your eyes water.

“I’ll protect you both, cyar’ika. Shelter and care for you while you grow our baby inside of you. Fill up this fucking hot cunt- this perfect fucking pussy- over and over again. Protect you for the rest of my life.”

“Fuck, Din, I’m coming!” You felt your whole body thrill with the force of your orgasm, your pelvic muscles squeezing him hard as you threw your head back and moaned.

Din groaned and thrust four, five, six more times until he plunged deep and held still, collapsing down on top of you to bury his face in your neck. You felt him spasm as he lay pressed against you, his hot, sticky cum spilling deep inside. You wrapped your legs back around his hips and held him in, murmuring sweet words into his ear as you stroked his hair.

“My love, I’m going to have all of your babies. I want you inside of me always, Din.” You pressed kisses to his ear as you whispered. “I love you so much. I’ll follow you to the farthest star and back, my love, always.”

Din panted as he came down. You felt him soften inside of you, but he didn’t withdraw. He pulled his head up and kissed you softly.

“Mesh’la, I can’t wait to marry you. My wife… my love.”

---

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on sight (Din/f!reader)

Rating: E (Explicit)

Length: 1.3k

Summary: Part 1 of a sense series starring our favorite armored bounty hunter. A chance encounter in the fresher ignites something between you and Din that neither of you expected.

Warnings: SMUT, exhibitionism kink, PIV sex, oral (f receiving), it’s really on SIGHT with this man I’m so sry

A/N: this is just wish fulfillment t b h. Thanks to my sweet writing wife @ezrasbirdie as always for the beta, love u bby! 🥰

Masterlist || Next Chapter

++

He’s watching you.

Din tries to pretend like he isn’t, but when he’s got the helmet on, he’s watching you.

The first time you realize it, you’re curled up in your little nook on the ship, sleeping. Din was about to wake you, and then he just stopped. Helmet tipped down, he let his shielded eyes dance over the form of you, soft under your blanket.

Blankets, gloves, beskar. So many layers separating you.

Keep reading

laid bare

word count: 6k+

warnings: smut (18+ only istg): din is a switch, you heard it here first, oral (m!receiving), piv sex, a singular spank. also: spoilers but helmetless!din; brief injury and blood; me mentioning the crest despite the crest being dead (rip); language; x fem!reader

a/n: this fic means a lot to me for some peculiar reason, and i think part of the reason it took so long is because i labored over every. single. word. there’s lots of sweetness up front and then it just descends into rampant filth. let me know what you think! xoxo!

You know his body better than you know your own. When he comes to you in the night, seeking your heat, he finds you pliant and willing. In those moments—those sacred, sublime moments—you map his body with your palms. You know every rise and ridge, every scar and divot. If given the proper materials, you could sketch his form to an exact likeness. All save one key aspect. 

His face. 

Keep reading

Seeking Serenity

summary: Mando, overcome with anxiety in the aftermath of a risky event, needs you to bring him back to reality—and asks for much more along the way.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader

warnings: anxiety attack, angst, hurt/comfort, references to death/violence, fluff

rating: T

word count: 2.953k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

Nothing has frightened you more than the sound of a Mandalorian’s voice breaking.

Keep reading

Insatiable - Chapter One: Let Me Taste You

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: flirting, kissing, use of aphrodisiacs, dirty talk, semi-public groping/dry humping, fingering, oral (f receiving), mentions of an age gap (reader is 21), mentions of bisexuality.

Summary: Known for your incredible intellect, you’re invited to Dorne to meet the royal family as one of their honored guests. You meet Prince Oberyn, who’s interest in you is immediate and evident. You return his affections throughout the night as the family invites guests for a lively gathering. When you return from the bathroom, Oberyn heightens your flirtatious interactions as he meets you in the empty hallway on your way back to the ballroom.

A/N: oh lord I loved writing this, I can already tell this series will be a handful LOL. This was longer than I originally intended, but oh well, I am SO proud of it! Our promiscuous prince is an absolute sun god that can take me ANY day of the week. Hope y’all enjoy <3

Series Details:

- This series will loosely follow the outline of the show Game of Thrones, but you don’t need to be familiar with the show to understand what’s going on.

- Since Oberyn is known to be a salve for the sexy times, there will definitely be smut in every chapter.

- We are also beginning in a timeline that currently does not involve Ellaria. It’s not that I don’t absolutely love her (I totally do) I’m just more into monogamous relationships personally, so that’s where I’m gonna start. But who knows where this series will go.

- ANYWAYS, without further ado, our gorgeous Prince of Dorne and his overwhelming desire for the reader begins below.

Dorne was a land you’d never seen before but heard many stories of. Its infamous water gardens and tropical temperature was foreign to you, though not undesirable. In fact, the trip seemed comparable to a miniature vacation. Your presence was requested by the Lord of Dorne. After hearing of your intellect and travels, he wanted to meet you for himself. Many did, after all. When you became of age, your father flaunted you about, dragging you throughout the Seven Kingdoms in order to earn wealth and infamy. It wasn’t that you didn’t like it, you rather enjoyed being the center of attention, but the trips were long and tedious, and you yearned for a break from your busy life.

“I’ve heard stories of the prince of Dorne.” Your best friend tittered girlishly as she helped you pack.

“Have you now?” you smirked, pulling out another suitcase. The carriage would be here in the morning for your two-day trek. The Lord even sent one of their own; how charming.

“Oh yes, he’s very handsome.” She continued, gossiping as she helped fold your dresses. “And rather promiscuous.”

“And who are you hearing this from, Anya?” you question, humor in your voice.

Anya was two years younger than you, and still in school. She was actually due to be sent away to the Citadel to further her studies while you were gone. However, no matter how talented she may be when it came to her education, she always lacked a bit in maturity, diving into rumors and drama whenever she could.

“Everyone!” she squealed, excited for you and your new adventure. “I hear he fancies both women and men.” She whispers to you.

“It’s not that uncommon.” You glanced back at her, knowing she’s aware of your own sexual orientation.

“I know, but… I’ve just never met anyone else like that!” You grimaced at this. She could be so strange sometimes.

“Promise me you’ll write!” she requests, closing your suitcase.

“Of course,” you turn, reassuring her.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I know, I’ll miss you too. But don’t worry, the Citadel is a marvelous place. You’ll have a great time with your studies.”

Anya nodded, staring back at you before embracing you in a tight hug. She’d never been to Dorne, either. If you could, you’d take her with you, and if you’re being honest, you’re a little nervous for your own travels. This would be there first time you were visiting a new place on your own. After your twenty-first birthday, your father opted out of these journeys. He claimed that you’re grown enough to handle this on your own now, and you are. It’s just new to you, is all.

But that was the other day. Your thoughts have done absolutely nothing to calm your nerves as you continue on toward the foreign land’s palace. Sitting inside the carriage, you scan your wooden surroundings. Your two suitcases sit on the bench across from you, often where your father sat. He was great company on these expeditions, offering conversation and amusement when the treks became long and boring. But now, you had no one. But you can do this, you’re more than capable of doing this. Truly, it’s Anya’s comments that currently fuel your nervousness. You hadn’t been approached sensually by a man in so many years, and of course not while your father visited these places with you. If the prince truly is as flirtatious as Anya claims, you’re in for a treat.

Your thoughts entertain you on and off throughout your journey, along with the books you packed and the drawings you continue to detail. The closer you get to the land filled of flourishing fauna and flowing streams, the hotter the temperature inside the carriage becomes. Your halter dress is ideal for the tropical conditions, allowing much of your skin to breath as the majority of it is exposed. You tie your long hair up into a bun at the nape of your neck. Only a few more hours.

When you finally reach your destination, you’re overwhelmed by the heat radiating from the bright sun. Your home was warm, but nothing compared to this. Glancing out the window, you see the amazing structure of the royal edifice come into view, its large architecture and blooming foliage truly breathtaking. Once stopped, you’re assisted out of the carriage by one of the guards chaperoning your trip. He’d accompanied you on this visit, offering to be your personal aid and security while away from home, which you truly appreciated. While Dorne was a welcoming and friendly place, you’d need a familiar face in order to feel comfortable for your four-week stay. Yes, that’s right. For whole weeks. The Lord planned on inviting many guests to his home, flaunting you as his honored guest. You don’t mind though; a few parties should be fun.

“Thank you, Ambrose.” You smile sweetly, taking his hand as you step down.

A woman descends the palace steps, gracefully striding towards you. She greets you, introducing herself as Milena, one of the royal family’s servants.

“The Lord of Sunspear wishes to see you, promptly.”

“Oh, okay.” You stutter, turning to the carriage behind you. “Should I grab my things first?”

“Oh no,” she laughs, waving a hand as if it was a silly thing for you to ask. “We will have those taken care of for you. Now, if you’ll follow me.” She smiles sweetly, gesturing again with her hand as she silently asks you to follow her inside.

The layout and designs within the building are just as spectacular as those on its exterior. Large, multi-shaped corridors and archways lead you through the palace’s many hallways and open space. Your eyes take in the vivid colors and patterns that surround you; you’ve never seen anything like it. The servant’s pace eventually slows as you reach a particular room, clearly meant for entertaining with its open entrance and sizeable space.

The Lord of Sunspear sits at the far wall, adorning a golden throne sat upon a raised step. His frame is thin, his features dark as his eyes rest upon you. His brown hair is long, but thinning, a receding hairline forming on either side of his temples. Facial hair scatters along his cheeks and jawline, and he wears a robe bright enough in color to match the chair highlighting his royal position. To your left, his Lady sits, bouncing a child on her lap. Off to your right is a lengthy couch, another man half-sprawled out across the lavish fabric. You curtsy, doing your best to be as polite as you are graceful.

The man and woman sitting on the extravagant furniture on either side of you look up, acknowledging your presence. Lady Mellario hands her infant son off to a hand maiden who hurries away with him. The nobleman sitting on his throne nods at your elegant bow, appreciating the sentiment and formality.

“Welcome,” the Lord stands, his harms spread wide.

He walks toward you, reaching out to hold your hands in his. You smile at him, comforted by his gestures.

“We greatly appreciate your visit and are delighted to meet you. Allow me to introduce you to my family.” He leads you over to his wife, his hand on your lower back as he introduces you.

“Lady Mellario,” you grin, nodding to her in a show of respect.

She smiles back, greeting you kindly. You find it strange, though, her quietness. Regardless, you’re turned around to face the other man in the room. He sits up as your eyes meet, standing and walking over to you.

“This is my brother, Prince Oberyn.”

The prince leans down, taking your right hand in his before lifting it and pressing his lips to your knuckles. You stare into his dark eyes, his smirk evident as he greets you.

“Very nice to meet you,” he purrs, his voice low and accent dissimilar to yours.

You smile, sighing lightly at his chivalrous actions and baritone voice. He’s taller than you and has dark features, darker than that of his brother. His jawline is sharp, nearly black facial hair blooming along it and his upper lip. His lean muscle is prominent beneath his yellow robe, exposed by the front opening of his tunic, displaying his smooth, bronzed chest. He seems older than you, much older, in fact. Somehow, this only adds to his attractive charm.

“Well, I would love to entertain, but I must tend to other matters.” The Lord claps his hands his hands eagerly as he speaks, inadvertently pulling you out of the prince’s trance. “You will be shown to your chambers shortly, I advise you prepare yourself for the night’s event. My visitors will be arriving within a few hours. You’ll sit at our table, as Dorne’s honored guest.” The Lord behind you explains, placing his hands on your shoulders.

You turn your head slightly, nodding to him. “Thank you, I’m very excited.”

The same servant that led you inside directs you to where you’ll be staying. You admire your surroundings, the chamber enormous in its entirety. Upon entrance, you notice the large bed off to your left, held up on a higher level than the rest of the room by a large step. The bed is round in shape, decorated with many silk pillows and blankets. Straight ahead is a balcony overlooking part of the water gardens below. To the right sits a work area, a sizeable desk accompanied by a lavish bookcase. In the corner past this is your bathroom. An enormous bath lays in the ground, heated by springs pumped through the palace walls. The entire chamber smells sweetly of flowered perfumes and oils, the freshy cut blossoms sitting in expensive vases also adding to the pleasant aroma.

Your servant leaves quickly, allowing you to bask in the beauty of your surroundings in private. You sit on your luxurious bedspread, holding the smooth fabric of your pillow on your lap and stroking its sheen texture. A breeze flows through the curtains separating the main space from the balcony, the sun’s rays dancing across the marbled ground at your feet. You were right, this trip would not be work, it would be relaxing. Though, Lord Doran did advise you to get ready to entertain, so you decide to do just that.

Your suitcases have been placed next to your desk on the far side of the room, and you open the top one to lay out your dresses, surveying your options. They’re each hand crafted from multiple fabrics, each a different shade and style. You eventually decide on a waist-high even split dress. It’s nude in color and flows smoothly over your body. The dress’ neckline is extremely low cut. The fabric at your waist parts into two sections, one larger and one smaller. The larger portion flows down your backside, while the other covers your front in between your legs. Your skin from your hips down is revealed in its entirety. You’d have to be careful tonight; one wrong move and you’d embarrass yourself for your lack of undergarments. The thinness of the dress won’t allow for anything to be worth beneath it, not elegantly anyway. You were never one to cover up though, especially in the hot sun that hung over Dorne. The attire was quite to your liking. Now within the cool walls of the majestic building, you decide to wear your hair down, fully expressing your beauty. You choose to wear the sandals you came in with, also nude in color as they wrap up your calf.

You’re ready much quicker than you expected. You know you’ll have to wait at least an hour before a servant returns to lead you downstairs and to your seat at the head table, maybe even longer. You scan the room, eyes returning to the last unpacked suitcase. You have time, and it’s only one bag, it should be quick job. Your books are first, and you lean over in order to grab as many as you can. But just as you start to set them onto the bookshelf off to your left, you hear a knock on the door. Your body shoots upright, spinning around just in time to see the large wooden door open slowly. Oberyn’s sudden presence frightens you for a moment, causing you to yelp as you turn. He chuckles, surveying your room as he lets himself in.

“Prince Oberyn,” you blurt out, watching him enter further.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he speaks, turning to shut your door before approaching you. “I wanted to introduce myself again, get the chance to speak with you privately.”

“Is there something wrong?” you ask, your brow furrowing in confusion.

“No,” he smiles, sighing as he looks down at you. “I’d just like to speak with you before our company arrives. That’s all.” He purrs, taking your hand in his again, his thumb stroking your soft skin. You blush at his actions, your gaze faltering as you glance at your feet.

“I want you to know, that when you’re in my palace, you need not address me as prince.” You look up, eyes meeting as he continues. “My title has no purpose coming from your lips.”

His hand leave yours, coming up toward your face, his pointer finger and thumb looking as if they mean to cup your chin. He tuts as his digits barely glide over your skin, deciding against it and lowering his hand. You’re left with a questionable emotion, wishing you’d felt his skin on yours as he backs away from you.

“Were you unpacking?” he questions, raising his eyebrows and gesturing to your books.

“Oh, yes. I figured I had the time.” You shrug, looking over your shoulder at them.

He leans over you, reaching behind you to pick one up, the edge of his robe brushing over your bare shoulder. The prince leans back and flicks through its pages, admiring its detail. This particular book covers a wide expanse of natural poisons among various plants and roots, something the prince studied extensively in his years at the Citadel, reminding you of his infamous title as the Red Viper. He hums as he reads for a moment, then shuts the book and places it back on your desk.

“My brother thinks you are an intelligent woman.” He steps forward, encroaching on your space as his hand flattens against the surface of your sturdy desk.

You cock your head to the side and raise an eyebrow as your confidence returns, assuming his words suggest doubt in your intellect. “And what do you think, Oberyn?” you inquire, trying out his request at the dismissal of his title.

“An intelligent woman, indeed.” He agrees, his voice lowering and nodding his head slightly. He towers above you, peering down into your eyes and tilting his head before asking, “Where did you study? The Citadel?”

You find this humorous, a small laugh escaping past your lips. “The Citadel studies me.” You respond complacently.

“An honor, no doubt.” He smirks, a single finger moving to run over the curve of your cheek. “One I would be delighted to receive.”

The prince’s suggestive remarks elicit a thundering pulse within you, arousal quickly building in your lower stomach. His beauty is palpable, as well as his attraction toward you.

“What do you want to know?” you question, breathing out shakily as he inches closer.

“I want to know what makes you tick, little one.” He mutters, “What makes your cleverness as bright as your beauty?”

The nickname and praise stir something deep in your chest while butterflies erupt in your stomach. Calling you “little one” while standing so tall and robust before you, his age much older than your own, his baritone voice speaking to you so softly, his eyes not once leaving yours… it makes you feel so innocent, submissive… like prey cornered by a hunter.

“Rather flirtatious toward your guests, aren’t we?” you inquire sarcastically, smirking up at him.

He purrs at this, appreciating your wits. “Only with ones as alluring as you.”

At this, you’re speechless. Your breath is caught in your throat and you’re currently out of clever remarks. When he sees your reaction, clearly entranced in his subtle seduction, his smile widens.

“What a beautiful dress,” he grins sweetly in your silence, the back of his hand roaming lightly over the fabric on your stomach as he glances down. His mouth parts slightly, his brow furrowing faintly as he focuses on the outline of your body beneath the thin cloth. His hand wraps around you, palm meeting the skin of your back as he gently places it on your waist. Your heartbeat quickens at his closeness, his curved nose inches from yours.

“Quite a taunting design.” He admits, his eyes shifting to the swell of your breasts. You grin wickedly, reveling in the prince’s full attention.

“As is yours,” you remark, staring at his bronze chest. His robe shifts open even more as he moves, further exposing his toned frame.

“Yes,” he sighs out, the hand on your waist moving up to rest just below the curve of your tits. He leans forward, his lips pressing lightly to your ear as he whispers, “But I could show you more.”

His words send shivers up your spine, your limbs tingling with excitement. It’s been so long since you’ve been with a man that the thought of any sexual act entices you. But with this man? The things you would do to be with this man…

“You said we have time, right little one?” his chest vibrating against you as he hums curiously. You nod, biting your bottom lip lightly. “Why don’t we make use of that?”

He removes the hand placed on the desk, raising it to meet the line of your jaw. He raises his eyebrows as you stare at him, silently wondering if you’ll allow his advancements. You decide to accept, tilting your chin up to meet him. The prince moves slowly, eyes lowering to your magnificent mouth and then closing delicately as his soft, full lips press to yours. His head tilts, nose brushing against your own as he deepens the kiss. You reach up to cup his face, moving your mouth against his in earnest. His facial hair scrapes against the smooth skin of your cheeks as he continues, his wet tongue eventually trailing over your bottom lip. You part your lips for him, allowing his tongue to move between them. An intense pulse floods through your heat as your tongues collide, massaging against each other deliciously. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you feel the prince’s experienced mouth and tongue for the first time.

Oberyn moans into you, his brow furrowing in concentration as his tongue works itself inside your mouth. The hand on your face lowers to your hip, joining the other and gripping you tightly. You roll your hips toward him in response, allowing yourself to let go just a little bit more. A single hand falls to his chest, your fingers twiddling with the hem of his robes and dancing along his smooth skin.

He moves you over toward your desk before bending down to grab the back of your thighs. He hauls you up, placing you on the sturdy furniture and positioning his hips between your legs, his persistent mouth never leaving yours. His strength and forwardness get the better of you as your slick begins wetting your inner thighs. Your legs close ever so slightly, holding him against you. He continues lapping at your tongue passionately, his hand keeping your jaw open for him as he does so. He leans back, his tongue licking slowly over your lips before speaking.

“I want to taste you, pretty girl.” His voice is strained with desire as he continues, “See if your flavor is as delectable as you are.” He runs a finger over your lips, eyes focusing on the supple flesh before flicking up to meet your gaze.

At first, you’re hesitant, unknowing of how far you’re willing to go. You’ve just met this man, and you’ll be staying in his home for four weeks. What if something goes wrong… You know what? Fuck it. You’re on your own and you want to have fun. You’re an adult, and if things go sideways, you’ll handle it. Like an adult.

“I hope you like what you find,” you breathe out, beaming brightly.

He grins, lowering himself almost immediately. He keels on one knee before you, his large hands easily moving the thin fabric of your dress to the side. When his eyes meet your exposed heat, he moans lustfully. Leaning in, he places a single, gentle kiss onto your mound, and you gasp at the sensation. You rest your left leg up onto the chair sitting in front of your desk, offering him an even better view. But, just as he goes in to taste you, there’s a knock on the door.

Your name is called out by the servant who’s been accompanying you, causing the two of you to jump in surprise. Oberyn looks over his shoulder at the still closed door, your eyes finding the same spot. “Lord Doran is requesting your presence. He’d like you to be seated before his guests arrive.”

Oberyn turns his head back toward you, leaning in to kiss your thigh. He hums against you, the vibrations sending shock waves through your hips. He lifts himself from his lowered position, folding the fabric of your dress back to its intended place.

“I suppose we’ll have to finish this another time, little one.” His voice is soft and seductively low as he speaks, his hand cupping your face while his thumb swipes gently over the apple of your cheek.

The grip your teeth have on your lip nearly spills blood as frustration and arousal mix in your veins. You sigh out, yearning for some kind of release. The whine that comes from your lips is girlish and embarrassing, and it makes him chuckle above you.

“Don’t worry,” he mutters. His lips meet yours once again, kissing you twice before finishing with, “I’ll find you soon enough.”

The servant, Milena, leads you down the multitude of corridors within the palace. It’s almost frightening how large the building is and how many twists and turns seem to be around every corner. You make sure to take note of this, as this is where you’ll be staying for the next month. Eventually, though, you’re led to a large ballroom. Its entryway is enormous, truly magnificent. The walls of the opening are lined with blue and gold trim curving around delicate patterns. The inside walls resemble similar patterns and textures, its lofty ceiling upheld by solid, dark timbers. The far side of the ballroom is missing its wall, though, and is instead supported by large columns. The large spaces between them serve as entryways to the renowned water gardens. At the front of the glorious room is the head table, a seat set aside for each member of the royal family, and yourself, of course.

Your name echoes off of the stone walls as you’re called by the Lord, already strutting over to you. “My guests will be arriving soon, please, come sit.”

He shows you to the lengthy table, gesturing toward your seat. The wooden chair has carvings of the Martell House, the ruling family of Dorne’s, coat of arms: a golden spear piercing a red sun. You sit, admiring the craftsmanship as you place your elbows on its armrests.

“Adequate?” he asks, his tone full of amusement as he doubts you will say otherwise.

“Very.” You reply, smiling up at him.

“Perfect. Now, my visitors are very intrigued by you. They’re a neighboring house to ours, the Tyrells, in fact.”

You’d heard of House Tyrell before, but you’d never had the opportunity to meet them in person. The Lord and Lady have three sons and one daughter and were often accompanied by their grandmother, a Lady as well. You’d heard rumors of their daughter, Margaery, being quite infatuated with your intellect and prestige.

“Ah yes,” you sigh happily, “Lord Mace and Lady Alerie. Will their four children be accompanying them, as well as their grandmother, Lady Olenna?”

Lord Doran smirks at your knowledge of the Seven Kingdoms, nodding his head before speaking. “Indeed. I do hope you will share some of that marvelous intellect with them tonight, as well.”

“I’d be happy to,” you sing, proud to show yourself off.

“Fantastic. Our cooks our preparing supper, do you have a preference?”

On this, you think a bit. Curiosity gets the better of you as your mind wanders to Oberyn. If you’re going to dwell in this man’s company for so many weeks, why not get to know him a little bit?

“I’ll have whatever Prince Oberyn is having.”

Lord Doran tilts his head, raising an eyebrow at you, but chooses to ignore his questing thoughts. “I’ll notify our head chef. Please, remain seated while our visitors arrive.”

Sitting patiently, you twiddle your thumbs and hum excitedly. You’ve been in this exact situation enough times to anticipate how the evening will go. Your hosts will serve you a meal, and likely their guests as well, while holding pleasant conversation. Afterwards, many other, less important newcomers will flood the room as musicians begin to play, and more alcohol is served. That’s when the fun begins.

“Quite punctual, I see.” Prince Oberyn strolls into the room, eyes immediately on you.

“Of course,” you reply, watching him walk over to you. “I don’t want to be rude to my hosts by disobeying orders.”

Soon enough, he’s at your side, and you have to angle your neck upwards in order to meet his gaze. He reaches down, lightly holding your chin between his thumb and forefingers.

“I can only hope you’ll be as obedient for me.” He purrs, smirking when your lips part at his words.

Before you can reply, his eyes flitter up to someone further behind you. You turn as well, seeing the Lord of Sunspear’s Lady sit on the far end of the table, Lord Doran then joining her. Oberyn sighs, pulling out the chair next to you and sitting. You’re feeling rather high and mighty, you must admit. You’re sat between Lord Doran and Prince Oberyn, two very powerful men who are honoring you tonight, and for many more nights to come. Sitting at a royal table wasn’t new to you, but it was always a delight.

Once you’re all situated at the table, the Tyrell family is led in, but not before a smaller table is set up in front of you for them to sit at. Lord Mace and Lady Alerie enter, followed by Lady Olenna and their four children. Each smiling and greeting the royals sitting next to you. They take their seats at the table and Lord Doran welcomes them, introducing you in the process.

“It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you all.” You speak, smiling politely. Surprisingly, Lord Mace scoffs at this.

“All,” he emphasizes, rolling his eyes. “Quite disrespectful for you to not greet my family by name.”

“Oh, I mean no disrespect, Lord Mace.” You reply quickly, not wanting to anger anyone. “To you or Lady Alerie. I have great admiration for your family. The studies your son, Willas, involves himself in are very intriguing to me. Your younger sons, Garlan and Loras’ skill in battle intrigue me, as well. Your daughter, Margaery, is renowned for her kindness and grace, something I admire deeply. I also have great veneration for you, Lady Olenna. A woman as graceful and intelligent as yourself is one who truly inspires me.”

Oberyn’s hand reaches for your thigh, squeezing it tightly as you respond to Lord Tyrell. You turn slightly to look at him, wondering if you’ve done something wrong. A grin pulls on the edges of the prince’s lips, a sign to you that all is well, though one that makes you curious, nonetheless. You continue to speak to the family, addressing them each as you make eye contact and do your best to smile and gesture politely. Lord Mace seems rather satisfied with your response, his attitude quickly changing as he begins to enjoy himself. Amicable conversation begins to fill the room as you’re served the first plates of your dinner, banter now interchanging between each member of the two houses. You even get the chance to speak to the Tyrell’s youngest child, Margaery, who is an absolute delight and clearly admires you and your influence. Once you quite down, Oberyn glances at your meal, a questioning look forming on his face.

“Are you watching me, little one?” he questions, your eyes turning to meet his.

“I prefer to taste a man’s meal before he tastes me.” You purr, smirking as you suck a plump cherry tomato into your mouth. A low grumble releases from his chest, his lips pursing as he chews on his lip, his smirk still very evident.

Prince Oberyn’s choice cuisine is rather appetizing. There’s a fresh, green salad laid on your plate, full of tomatoes, cucumbers, avocados, kalamata olives, and more. This serves as the appetizer, of course. The main entree comes in two plates. One is cold to the touch as oysters sit amongst a sea of ice. The other steams below you, cooked asparagus and marinated chicken spreading to the plate’s brim. Finally, dessert comes, your favorite part. A bowl of berries and cherries is set before you. Another, smaller dish accompanies its side, this one filled with exotic nuts. As you’re enjoying the last addition to your meal, you realize something. The majority of the prince’s preferred foods include aphrodisiacs. Fitting.

Your graceful laughs soon fumble into girlish giggles as you consume your third glass of wine. When he began eating, Oberyn retracted his grip on your thigh, but it returns as you nibble on your delectable dessert. The prince leans over to you, and you ease in, allowing him to bring himself closer to your ear.

“Are you enjoying yourself, pretty girl?” he asks, his large hand sliding to your inner thigh, his touch tickling your sensitive skin.

“Hmm,” you hum giddily, “Yes.” You beam brightly at him as he pulls a few inches away, still close to your face.

“Did you appreciate the food?”

“Yes, I loved it!”

He tilts his head, smiling at your ever-present happiness. “Which was your favorite?”

“The raspberries.”

When you answer, he looks down. With his other hand, he reaches over, plucking a berry from your bowl and lifting it to your lips.

“Let me see you taste it.” He requests, his voice now a whisper. His mouth opens slightly as he focuses on your own. When you open for him, his brown eyes rise to meet yours.

You keep his gaze when you part your lips, allowing him to feed you the plump, pinkish fruit. He smiles, his beautifully straight teeth shining as you taste the sweet juices spilling onto your tongue, his finger just barely sliding past your lips. When he moves to take his finger away, you close your wine-stained lips around it, gently and briefly sucking on it.

The servants begin taking your food away as the two of you continue your flirtatious actions and inquisitive conversations. You bask under the prince’s attention, his eyes trained on you while you laugh at his continuous comments and questions. You’re each fully turned towards each other now, endlessly engaging in the other’s interests. You enjoy the prince’s outward attraction toward your beauty, of course, but you also adore his interest in you, your mind. It comforts you, pulls you in just that much more.

The Tyrell family stands as additional guests begin to arrive, pulling you away from Oberyn’s captivating eyes. The curtains begin lowering in order to the dim the room’s lighting, the day now turning to night on the other side of the large, stone columns. Candles are lit, and musicians begin to enter the room. Carts stroll in, too, offering appetizing sweets and fermented liquids. The people that come in marvel at you, speaking to you in multiple tongues about various topics, such as politics, philosophy, literature, culture, and so much more. You were quite well-versed in the topics and nearly fluent in each language, and easily held steady conversation with Lord Doran’s many guests. Not only were you knowledgeable, but you truly enjoyed talking about the subjects and brushing up on the many dialects the Seven Kingdoms have to offer. More and more visitors come over to greet you, and you decide its best that you stand from the table to start mingling with everyone out on the ballroom floor. Oberyn stays seated, watching you walk off into the crowd.

“Milena?” you ask, pulling the servant to the side after meeting more newcomers. “Where can I find a washroom?”

She points you in the direction of one down the hall, and you eagerly stride towards it. After, what, four goblets of wine now? You definitely need to empty your bladder. There are perfumed oils at the sink, which you apply after washing your hands. You’re able to freshen yourself up a bit, fixing your hair and makeup and making sure the fabric of your dress is laid appropriately. Once satisfied, you leave the room, intent on returning to the event. Suddenly, you squeal, startled by the unexpected presence of strong hands on your waist.

Oberyn presses himself up against you, holding you from behind as he nuzzles his face into the hair flowing over your neck and shoulder. “You are irresistible, pretty girl.”

You blush, smirking while moving to hold the prince’s arms as they wrap around you. You turn your head, sighing out at the feel of his body against yours. He’s so close you can feel his breath on your skin, his lips brushing over your neck lightly.

“You scared me.” You giggle anxiously. The prince moves against you, leading the two of you a few steps to the side, closer to the wall and away from the center of the hallway.

“Are you still frightened?” he asks lowly, one hand reaching up to brush your hair off your shoulder and to your back.

“No,” you mutter, breathless under his influence.

Once you respond, his hands begin to travel. They slowly roam the curves of your body, wrapping around you as his right hand moves to hold the left side of your hip, his left hand shifting up to cup the curve of your chest.

“Do you like what I’m doing?” his voice is hoarse, his lips now moving to press heated kisses against the delicate skin along your neck.

“Yes,” you gasp, his hand now fully massaging your tits while the other grips your hip. You lean into him, letting your head lay back on his shoulder. A small whimper leaves your lips in your hazy state when he rolls his hips against your backside.

“Mm… those little sounds…” he sighs out, “I’d love to hear them while spearing you on my cock.” You gasp at his words as they send a shiver down your spine. You’ve never had a man speak to you so obscenely.

The hallway leading to the ballroom is lined with small columns, one of which is behind you. Oberyn pulls you backwards, leading you to the small space between the stone pillars, allowing the two of you an ounce of privacy. He spins you around, pushing you back against the curved surface so you can face him.

“You’re incredible,” he mumbles, crowding your body in the secluded space as he holds your neck, mouthing hotly at your shoulder. “So shrewd for a woman of your age.”

You grin, loving his praise and his fervent tongue on your neck. The prince’s hips grind against yours, his length patently hard beneath his robes. His hands continue to roam your body, curving over your hips to grab at your ass. Your hands hold him against you, one grabbing his neck while the other tangles itself in his dark, feathery hair. When you tug on the brown locks, he groans, lifting his head from your neck. You press your soft lips to his, and he responds to you quickly, leaning into the kiss as you move against each other. His hand moves between the two of you, cupping your sex in his palm.

He moans at your soft gasp, the interaction heightening the rate of your pulse. He grabs your jaw, breaking the kiss to stare into your eyes. “Will you let me taste you, sweet thing?”

The nook the two of you are tucked into behind the sandstone pillar offers a bit of seclusion, though not as much as an enclosed room would. There isn’t a single soul walking the halls, though the thrill that someone could at any moment excites you beyond reason.

“Yes,” you reply, panting from the euphoria the prince’s sensual actions provoke.

Oberyn chuckles lightly, clearly delighted in your response as he rapidly shifts to kneel before you once again. His tan hands run up your exposed thighs, his nimble fingers shifting the front covering of your dress aside to reveal your smooth mound. His smirk is evident, even from this angle. His left shoulder lowers, and before you can question him, he grabs the back of your knee, maneuvering you so that your one leg is resting over his shoulder and draping down his back. The parting of your legs gives him much better access to your wanting heat, already slick from anticipation.

“Oh…” he moans out, the palm of his hand running over the smooth skin of your sex and lower stomach. “So pretty.”

He leans in, placing a gentle kiss on your mound, just as he did hours before in the privacy of your chambers. His warm, wet tongue then slides up through your folds, slowly, delicately, tasting the juices he’s been craving since laying eyes on you. You gasp out, the sensation beautifully stimulating against your sensitive skin. You reach out to him, grabbing his hair as you steady yourself above him. He smiles against you, happy at your responsiveness and grabbing hold of your hips. The prince’s curved nose rubs against your clit deliciously as he moves his tongue against you, into you, sloppily licking and sucking your folds as his tongue roams your inner channel. The lusty noises his mouth makes while devouring your dripping core are absolutely obscene as they echo off the surrounding walls. His eyes remain closed in contentment and concentration as he moves his hot mouth against you. You watch him intently, his head rocking rhythmically as he tastes you. His tongue slides out of your sex, traveling up to your tiny pleasure point. The wet muscle dances around your clit before rolling over it, applying pressure and sucking it into his mouth.

“Oh –” you sigh out, throwing your head back, “Oberyn…”

He hums at the sound of you moaning his name, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your hips. The pad of his middle finger barely touches the lining of your labia, gently rubbing back and forth before sinking inside you.

“Yes!” you whine, rolling your hip against his face.

His digit is thick as it enters you, almost immediately curling and applying constant pressure to that fleshy spot inside you that makes you want to scream. His ability to find it so quickly makes your head spin, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. He doesn’t even move his finger in and out, he just keeps it there, forcefully pulsating it against your g-spot, wiggling it in a motion that coaxes you forward.

“More,” you whimper, “Please.”

His finger retracts before lining up again, now with his pointer finger alongside it. He shoves them into you, now at a hurried pace as they continue to curl against that beautiful spot every now and then. He keeps his tongue on your clit, flicking it quickly with the tip of his tongue before wrapping his lips around it. His mouth suckles on your pleasure center while he pumps his fingers in and out of your aching pussy. His moans match yours, and you love that he’s enjoying this so thoroughly, possibly even more than you. Your pleasure continues to climb, washing over you until it peaks. His hot, wet mouth feels amazing against your dripping core, and you tighten your leg on his back to push him further against you.

“O-Oberyn,” you stutter, “I’m, I’m gonna –”

“On my face, little one.” He breaths out, panting below you. “Cum on my face.” His lips return to your clit, sucking harshly.

His words push you over the edge, and you bite your lip, unwillingly to whine too loudly in the hallowed halls. His tongue picks up its pace, sucking ruthlessly on your clit while his fingers resume their original motions, stalling inside you and only pulsating pressure against your g-spot, flawlessly riding you through your orgasm. His other hand grips your hip tightly, holding you against him as your high comes crashing into you, forcefully filling your veins with pure ecstasy as you cum against the prince’s face. He continues to mouth at you, his fingers and tongue persistent in their application of pressure on your most responsive areas until you’re shaking above him.

He slows down as your breathing calms, easily reading your body’s signals. He pulls his fingers out of you, his tongue now licking languidly at your folds. He brings his cum-soaked fingers to your fleshy lips, parting you with his pointer and middle finger. He angles his head, moving his mouth directly under your wet channel. With your folds parted, he licks into you, moaning at the taste of your creamy pussy. He slurps as he drinks from you, swallowing the last remnants of the sweet liquid your orgasm brought you. Your mouth parts at the sight, the aftershocks of your orgasm tingling through you as he continues to savor your taste before leaning back and bringing his fingers to his mouth, sucking the liquid off his fingers as his brown eyes stare up at you. The sight of the prince on his knees before you, absolutely savoring you and your juices, is one of the most erotic things you’ve ever seen. It makes you breathless, delirious as you watch him.

The hand on your waist moves underneath your leg, and once he’s licked his fingers clean, he turns his head to kiss along your inner thigh, licking the juices off the sensitive skin there, too. Lust-filled brown eyes meet yours once more while he continues to mouth at your leg as it rests on his broad shoulder. You smile down at him, his mouth and chin now wet with your slick. You gasp out when he sinks his teeth into your flesh, moaning slightly as you try to catch your breath.

“Would you like to share my bed tonight, little one?” Oberyn inquires, his voice husky as his dark eyes stare up at you from between your legs. “Help me to find my release as well?”

“I would love to.” You smirk devilishly, biting your lip as he places one last open-mouthed kiss to your thigh before rising.

Blurred Lines - Chapter Three: Ethereal

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: oof we really bumped it up from the last chapter let’s see grinding/dry humping, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), praise kink, one single female x female kiss, mentions of bisexualism, some fluff

Summary: After landing on Coruscant, you decide to go out to eat before working the job you landed for. Seeing you dance with others makes Din a bit more possessive over you, and he finds himself getting carried away when you voice your feelings for him.

Taglist: @kyjoraven

The first realization you have when you open your eyes is that you’re completely alone in the darkness of Mando’s metal bunk. Your eyebrows furrow down as you frown. How did he get up without waking you? Why didn’t he wake you? Your inquiries cease when you remind yourself of the incredibly intimate moment you shared with the Mandalorian just hours ago. He finally expressed his feelings to you. He opened himself up to you more than he ever has before. In his own way, he showed you how special you’ve become to him.

You sit up and feel your way around the bunk until your fingers fall on the control pad. You press the button to retract the door, revealing to you the very empty hull. It’s dark still, only illuminated by the faint glow of buttons scattered along the ship’s interior. There’s the slight hum that you’ve become quite familiar with. You’re still in hyperspace, which is fitting. Mando did say it would take a few days to get there. Your feet settle on the cold floor as you scan your surroundings. You decide it’s best to get ready for the day before going up to see him and the child, so you slide out of the bunk to grab your bags before heading to the ‘fresher.

When you visit the bathroom, you’re pleasantly surprised by your reflection. Your bruise has faded and after removing the bandage, you see a healed wound on your outer arm. Maybe a shower wouldn’t be such a bad idea, it’s been a couple days since you’ve had one. Lucky for you the Crest has an enormous water tank, so you take your time. The hot water feels amazing against your skin, and your ribs are officially back to their natural tone. Suddenly, you smell the scent that engulfed Mando’s bunk, and your eyes shoot open. There’s no way he’d come in here while you’re bathing. You quickly realize it’s his soap sitting along the shelf of the wall. Something about that scent excites you beyond reason. Its smell is so comforting and clean, you make sure to embed it into your memory.

“Hey,” you say as the door to the cockpit slides open.

Stepping inside, you see the little one nestled in his pram, and surprisingly, he’s playing with one of his newer toys. When his large eyes meet yours, he squeals and reaches for you. One of your favorite sights in the entire galaxy. After picking the child up, you stride over to the man sitting in the pilot’s chair. You scan his movements and notice that he’s punching in new coordinates.

“Are we changing course?”

“We’re running low on fuel, and there’s a planet close by. I’ve done some jobs there before. Figured we could stop and earn some extra credits on our way.” he turns his visor slightly, looking back towards you. “You up for that?”

“Yeah of course! Nevarro has been painfully dull lately, I’m dying to work a new job.”

He goes on to tell you that he’s contacted an old friend of his on Coruscant. The contact’s name is Aian, and he’s the leader of an organization aimed at targeting and destroying Imperial outposts stationed across the planet. Apparently, Aian and his associates plan to rendezvous at a currently undisclosed location on the outskirts of the city with a group that claims to have information on an Imperial base. You and Mando will serve as extra security.

“Seems like an easy job, but nothing is ever easy on Coruscant.” He explains. “We’ll be landing in about an hour. They’ll contact us with more information once we land. The engagement will happen tomorrow morning.”

Sounds like a plan, now all you have to do is relax and wait to get there. And while you wait, you decide to sit down and bounce the little green critter in your lap. He giggles as he tries his best to hang on to his small metal car.

“Hey buddy, I missed you lately! How’ve you been since you’ve been away? Have you been bored without me? Well, I’ve been bored without you, let me tell ya.”

He stares up at you with such focus, you could swear he knew the meaning of each and every word that left your mouth. Sometimes he’d even babble back to you, and you wonder if one day you’ll be credited for teaching him how to speak. Once you’re done catching him up on your recent endeavors, or rather, lack thereof, you wonder if he’s been fed. Mando’s gotten used to feeding the child while piloting the Crest, so he’s stored some food up here for him.

“You want a snack?” you ask, holding up a bag of his favorite fruit after rummaging through the small storage bin stashed under your seat. Without hesitation, it flies through the air and into his little palms as he erupts with laughter.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” you chuckle before turning to his dad. “Why didn’t you wake me when you got up?”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Oh…” you say, pondering his response. Your thoughts lead you to reminisce in last night’s memories once again. It’s still so hard to believe that the Mandalorian was armor-less and cuddled up against you, it almost seems like it could have all been a dream.

“It wouldn’t have bothered me.” You reply, smiling sweetly even though he can’t see it. After a few moments of silence, you find yourself become curious to learn more about him.

“Did you have any dreams?” you wonder.

“Dreams?”

“Yeah, did you dream at all last night?”

“No… I, I don’t think I ever dream.” He states, his voice lingering with uncertainty.

“What? Really? That must be, well… kind of boring.” You huff out a laugh.

“Well, what do you dream about?”

“It depends. Last night I hardly dreamt at all, I could barely even sleep.” At this he turns his chair around to face you.

“Were you… not comfortable?” he sounds sad almost, and definitely unsure of himself. Both emotions you’ve hardly ever seen him express.

“No!” you reach out, placing a hand on his knee while balancing the child on yours. “Last night was so nice, I…. I loved it. I guess I was just surprised you did all of that. It took a minute for it to set in.”

“Do you… not want me to do that again?” his voice hesitates as he speaks, clearly treading through unknown territory. This is your chance to reciprocate his affections.

“I loved being that close to you.” You want him to do that again so badly, but you don’t want to push your luck. “I want you to do whatever makes you comfortable.” You express your feelings to him as genuinely as you can while staring at his visor with kind eyes.

“I’m comfortable with you.” He nods forward slightly at the last word, his voice quieter than before. You smile gently at him as your chest squeezes with joy. When you’d accepted his offer to join him on this mission, you had no idea it would go in this direction, but you’re thrilled it has.

You realize once you land that it’s only midafternoon and you have an entire day to kill before settling in for the night. Mando’s landed the Crest just outside the city walls, which you’re thankful for. You’re close enough to the edge of the city that you’re likely not far from the rendezvous location, but you’re far enough away to not be bothered by the crowds of people you hear in the distance. He’s also managed to land near a wooded area, providing a small amount of coverage.

“Are you hungry?” Mando asks, turning his seat around again to face you.

“Yeah, I could eat.” you poke your finger under the child’s chin, giving him a few tiny tickles. “You’re probably still full. You ate three bags of that fruit!”

“We can eat the food I’ve stored here, or we could head into town.”

“Aren’t we low on credits?” You don’t want to spend too much of his money unnecessarily, but the idea of going out to eat does actually sound pretty nice.

“Not too low.” He responds, likely reading the tinge of excitement in your voice. You grin up at him after thinking for a moment.

“Then… let’s eat out.”

You are beyond excited he agreed to go out for the night. You and Mando never did things like this during your past trips, and on Nevarro, you rarely went out. Other than going to work and then to the bars with Cara, you usually stayed at home. It has been years since your last visit an actual restaurant or anything nicer than the side street dive bars on the planet you’ve grown to call home.

When landing, you saw bits and pieces of the city. The streets were lit up with colorful lights as lively music danced through the air, it looked beautiful and so enjoyable. Because of this, you make sure to grab your nicest set of robes. You’d packed them just in case you came across a rare situation where you’d need the fancy attire, and you’re thanking your past self for having the foresight to do so.

Your most decorative robe is gently tucked inside a small box at the bottom of your backpack. You pull it out and hold it in front of you, admiring the delicate fabric. This outfit has fewer pieces than your daily sets, and the robe is also longer. The robe flows down over your body, nearly to your feet as it hides your short, strapless dress underneath; both pieces a deep, midnight black. Silver gems line the edges of the fabric, and you bet they’ll shine brightly under the city’s multicolored lights.

After dressing yourself and tying the laces of your black sandals up your calves, you go into the ‘fresher to do your hair. It’s been in a braid for the past few hours, and once you unweave it, the strands fall gracefully into soft curls. Taking a step back, you marvel at your reflection. Back on Nevarro, there wasn’t really a dress code for your status underneath the marshal. You could wear whatever you wanted as long as you could fight in it. You wore your robes daily, and always adorned yourself in the jewelry you currently had on, but you’d never gotten tired of the sight. While some may call you self-absorbed for your personal admiration, you prefer to call it superior self-love. Multiple rings hold themselves around your small fingers, and your ears are lined with multiple jeweled piercings. You also wore a silver necklace, matching your silver nose ring. You apply a face cream you packed and even opt to curl your eyelashes. Once satisfied with your look, you turn to exit the small steel room.

The Mandalorian’s footsteps are loud as he descends the rodded steps after enclosing the child in his pram for the night. You turn on your heels and skip out of the bathroom as he hops down onto the floor, greeting him with a smile plastered across your face.

“Ready?” you ask giddily as the warrior turns to face you.

“Where did you…”

“I packed it, just in case.” You explain before he can finish, grabbing the edges of your robe and swirling it around you softly.

“I haven’t worn it in years. Cara and I don’t really get out much, beside the taverns.” You giggle. Your smile fades slightly as you look back up at him standing motionless in front of you.

“Is it too much?” you frown, looking back down at the fabric. Perhaps you’d gotten a bit carried away.

" No, it's..." he clears his throat, "you look nice."

Since Mando’s been here before, you let him show you around. He says he knows of a restaurant that’s close by and leads you there without stopping at any of the surrounding stores or buildings, his hand falling to its now normal spot on your lower back. Though your stomach is growling uncontrollably, you wish you could stop for a moment to take in your surroundings. There are countless ships and other hovering transports darting through the sky above you. The skyscrapers take on multiple shapes and sizes, each projecting different colored lights. All around you are people of each and every creed and bloodline, striding and dancing through the streets of the overly crowded city. Musicians line the streets as they plane instruments you’ve never even seen before. Sadly, the walk is short. You’re led to a small restaurant with a line leading out the front door. To your surprise, each of the individuals step out of the way as Mando strides forward past them, opening the door for you to walk through.

The first thing you notice once inside is the music coming from the band at the front of the large room. It’s lively and fun, and the musicians are clearly having a great time performing. The room is lit up with red and yellow lights and tables and booths line the outer walls, allowing the center of the establishment to be used as a dancefloor for couples and friends enjoying their night. You glance around the room and notice nearly everyone’s eyes turn to you. Well, not really you. They’re focused on the dangerous man behind you. No matter where you go, everyone always seems to be shocked at the sight of a Mandalorian.

Four men stand in the corner off to the side. By the way they’re dressed, you guess they’re the restaurant’s hosts. They bicker quietly amongst each other as they occasionally glance back at you and the Mandalorian, seemingly nervous to serve him. Eventually, one of the men comes over to greet the two of you and begins leading you to a booth. Mando’s hand stays fixated on your back, sliding lower ever so slightly as he guides you through the various groups of people, many of them darting out of the way as the Mandalorian continues striding after the host.

The dominance he displays makes you eye him slightly, a familiar feeling pooling below. While you’ve been enjoying his gentle side as the two of you have begun to grow fonder of each other, blurring the lines between your friendship and something more, you’re beginning to give into your feelings a little more with every hour that passes. You’ve always found him to be menacingly confident, his energy exuding dominance and strength, but you’d never allowed yourself to become attracted to him for it. When you’d first met, he was in a relationship, after that, you were working on yourselves and your careers, and then, he had to help the child escape Nevarro. But now, what’s holding you back?

The host shows the two of you to a booth in the far corner of the room, curving into a U-shape to accommodate to its place against the two walls. Mando pats the curve of your lower back gently as you slide into the booth you’re shown to, causing your face to break out in a red blush. It’s not long though before you decide to use the restroom before ordering. You excuse yourself and head off, but on your way to the room, a female Pantoran approaches you.

“Your robes are beautiful!” she explains, her smile beaming brightly.

“Oh, thank you! I love your piercings!” Her skin is a radiant shade of blue and the jeweled piercings adorning her body shimmer brilliantly under the colored lights. You don’t often see others with as many piercings and silver jewelry as you.

“You’re so sweet! Where did you get your robes?”

“They’re from my home planet, Naboo.”

As the two of you continue to talk, a few more of her friends join in. Each Pantoran is more beautiful than the last, and soon they drag you onto the dance floor with them. You’re not a dancer, nowhere near it. The training you’ve endured over the years hasn’t exactly taught you how to be light on your feet. If Cara could see you know… she’d surely get a kick out of this.

You glance over to see Mando perk up at your situation, but you giggle and shrug to him, assuring him that you’re fine. Though you’re a nervous wreck when you finally get to the dance floor, you try your best to enjoy the moment. After all, you never had moments like this one. Moments where you could be so untroubled, so happy, so free. The last time you can think of a moment like this one would be, well, last night. It’s interesting that Mando’s been involved in both of these rare situations. If you wanted to think longer about it, you could reason that he’s the one that brings these emotions out of you in the first place.

Mando watches you intently as you dance around with your newfound friends, sliding to the curved, back part of the booth to get a better view. He’d cut someone’s hand off before letting them drag him to a dance floor, but he’d happily sit and watch you move through the music for as long as you wanted to. These women were right, your robes are beautiful, but it’s really you that makes them so attractive. Your body is outlined perfectly below the fabric of your long gown as it flows effortlessly around you. He sucks in a breath when he sees you turn, your smile almost blinding. You were so ethereal to him.

“What’s your name?” you ask the woman who first approached you.

“Kalina.” She smiles.

“Thank you, Kalina, for inviting me over, but I think I have to get back to my… uh…” What should you call him? What exactly is Mando to you? “My friend.” You eventually decide on.

“No! We’re having so much fun!”

“I know,” you laugh, “But I really should go back to my table. I feel bad leaving him by himself.”

“Okay,” she pouts, striding over to you. “It was great to meet you. I hope I see you again!”

Before you can respond to her farewells, her sky-tinted hands grasp the sides of your face, pulling you in for a wet kiss. You’re absolutely shocked by her actions as your eyes widen through the kiss. When she pulls back, she frowns at your expression.

“Did you not like that?”

Her question makes you think. It’s not that you didn’t enjoy the physical affection; Kalina is absolutely stunning, and you were no doubt attracted to her. Her body was beautiful, curving delicately in the best places, her light brown hair framing her face perfectly. She had an adorable nose with full lips sitting below it, and green eyes that twinkled under the colorful lights.

But knowing that Mando likely saw the kiss makes nervousness and shame crawl under your skin. Technically, the two of you weren’t together, and in reality, you had nothing to be ashamed of. But at the same time, you don’t want him to think you aren’t interested in him. Shit, how do you go about this?

“No, it’s not that I didn’t like it. I… I really did.” You gulp, flushing at the thought of kissing her again. “But I… I have feelings for someone.”

“Your friend?” she inquires, to which you nod in response. “Well, he’s lucky to have you. See you around, honey.” She smiles sweetly at you, running a finger along your cheek before turning to face her friends.

You make your way off the dance floor and back to the booth. You could practically feel Mando’s gaze as you kissed, there’s no way he didn’t see it. When you sit back down, he doesn’t bring his hand back to your knee. At this, a heavy feeling begins growing in the pit of your stomach, and it’s anything but desirable. There’s an awkward silence between the two of you until you decide to try and break the tension.

“Sorry I was gone for so long,” you laugh lightly, “I’ve never been out dancing. I can’t believe I stayed for so many songs.”

His reply is absent, and you decide to order a few shots for yourself to keep your nerves at bay. He watches you down your drinks, his helmet tilting slightly. His silence is deafening.

“Well… do you want to say anything? Or are you going to stay silent?” you question, annoyed at this point. “Why won’t you talk to me?” you demand.

He sucks in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“What?”

“Have I made you uncomfortable?” he repeats, sterner this time.

“No, of course not.”

His question confuses you to no end. Why was he asking that? Where did that come from? Wait… does he think because that woman kissed you that you’re not attracted to him? Did he see the kiss and maybe assume the relationships you had in life weren’t heterosexual? I mean, not all of them were, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t interested in him.

“Mando,” you sigh, slipping closer to him.

You shuffle your way to his side so that his left arm rests behind you. You reach for his hand, your nerves subsided by the bright blue alcohol now flowing through your system as you become a bit daring. Placing the leather glove back on your knee, you continue talking.

“You don’t make me feel uncomfortable.” When he doesn’t reply, doesn’t even look at you, you gently lay a hand over the cheek of his helmet to turn him to face you.

“Did you see us kiss?” you decide to ask, officially addressing the elephant in the room.

“Yes.” He replies flatly.

“Did it bother you?”

“Why would it bother me?” His body is stiff against yours as you press further towards him. You grin at his stubbornness.

“I know you’re interested in me.”

Mando’s breathing picks up as you place a hand on his cuirass, your eyes staring into his visor. You smirk at the fact that you’re slowly but surely unraveling the seemingly impermeable warrior before you. He’s acted dominant over you before, not really in obvious ways but in subtle, small ones. His hand on your back, ordering for you, getting your bags for you, inviting you to sleep with him and then holding you through the night.

“Aren’t you attracted to me?” you question, yearning for him to finally come out and say it; because when he does, there won’t be anything holding you back.

“Yes.” He confesses after a moment, his voice murmuring through his modulator. The hand on your knee tightens, causing you to curl your fingers over the top edge of his cuirass.

“Were you jealous?” your grin stays on your lips as you speak to him, loving the control you have in the current situation now that he’s ultimately given in to his feelings. The hand behind you reaches up to grab your waist, now fully holding you against him.

His voice is low and rough as he grunts out his response. Simply your name, a warning.

“Don’t be,” Your delicate hand slips from his cuirass, slowly sliding down until it rests on his lower belt. “I don’t want her. I want you.”

You’re shocked at his impatience as he hauls you through the streets. His grip on your hand is bruising as you struggle to catch up, his strides much larger than yours.

“Wait, Mando!” you call out, grabbing the hand he has on your wrist. He turns to look at you before grabbing your bicep and shoving you backwards into a side alley.

“What are you –”

“You can’t just say things like that.” He huffs, his hands pressing on either side of your head against the brick wall. “You can’t say you want me.”

“What? Why?” your eyes shoot up to his visor.

The words come out sounding childish and whiny, but you can’t help it; you’re extremely confused. You thought you had control back in the restaurant, but it’s clear the grip you had on the situation is falling from your grasp like fine sand through spread fingers. Mando shakes his head at you, hanging it down between his arms.

“It’s making me go crazy.” He admits, his helmet tilting back up to look at you. “Watching you walk around in your bra, pressing your ass against me while we sleep, dressing like this… you can’t say you want me and expect me not to show you how bad I’ve wanted you.”

"Show me," you beg, your hands grasping at the fabric around his neck. "Show me, Mando." Now, you're more than eager to get back to the Crest. His visor stays fixed on your gaze for a short moment before he pulls you off the wall.

"Let's go." He demands while dragging you back to the city's streets and toward the ship.

It’s not long before you reach the outer gates of the city, and the excitement courses through your veins as you know the Crest isn’t too far off. At this point, you’re incredibly turned on by him. His confidence, the reaction he brings out in others, the dominance he displays just by walking through the crowd. You loved being by his side as he led you to your seats, his hand inches from your ass. You can’t believe that he finally confessed his feelings, that he actually voiced his want for you.

When you reach the Crest, you notice he doesn’t open the ramp right away. Instead, you find yourself backed against a nearby tree as his hands find your waist. You grin, loving his returning confidence. He’s so close to you… it makes a shiver run up your spine. You feel like prey… completely vulnerable as he towers over you. Your head swims with thoughts of the previous night, feeling him so intimately close, and you can’t help but reach up to grab his shoulders as your emotions rush over you. You guide him closer, letting his body crowd yours against the wood. Your hands wander a bit further up to his neck as you begin to play with the fabric of his cape. His hands slide down and curve around to your back, landing on the softness of your ass. Gloved hands cup you gently, and you hum happily, his actions spurring you on.

You become bold, perhaps a bit bolder than you should be. Maybe it’s due to the liquor you downed or maybe it’s due to the feelings you’ve let yourself embrace, but you can’t help yourself. His tanned skin peaks out from the fabric you’re fondling, just below his jaw, and you immediately lean forward, nuzzling against him as you plant a soft kiss on his bare skin.

“Cyar’ika,” he groans, his grip now bruising against your soft skin.

A grin forms on your lips at his reaction before you sink your teeth into the skin of his neck, licking and sucking while your hands explore the edges of his cuirass. His breathing picks up as his hands move higher to rub against your back, molding your body against his. After kissing the mark you’ve left on the Mandalorian standing before you, you lean back far enough to stare into his visor, your hand cupping the side of his helmet. Your tongue slips out to wet your bottom lip before biting it as adrenaline rushes through you. This causes one of his hands to grab at your ass once more while the other travels to your upper ribs, just below your bust. His deep breaths rapidly rise and fall as he takes in the sight of you. Your grip on his cape tightens and your eyes shoot back down to the mark you’ve made, causing wetness to pool between your thighs.

“I’ve wanted you… since I first met you.” He admits, his voice quiet. His hands stroke your body lovingly, squeezing gently every now and then.

“Mando…” you breathe out, a little shocked.

You’re taken back a bit by this confession, because it’s something you never knew. Of course, you knew the Mandalorian was fantastic at hiding his emotions, but you never imagined he’d be this good at it. You were only eighteen when you joined the crew you met Mando through. You both were so young and, honestly, really stupid. And anyways, he had already formed a relationship with your other female crew member by the time you joined. You never would’ve guessed he had such strong feelings for you from so early on.

With his gaze still set on you, he glides his other hand up until they both rest below your breasts. You sigh softly, tilting your head back against the tree while he explores you. Your chest pushes up as you arch your back slightly, and you can see his visor very obviously shoot down as the swell of your breasts expands below him. His reaction makes you smirk, and you reach down to grab one of his hands, guiding him to touch you. Leather covered fingers slide up to run along your outer arm, over your shoulder, along your collarbone, traveling down to follow the dip of your exposed cleavage. Your hand drops as his curiosity grows, his finger curling to pull down the hem of you dress even further. While he focuses on your chest, you decide to reach down again, but below his belt this time. It’s easy to find his hardening length pressing against the fabric of his pants, twitching as you grip him in your hand. Pleasure pulses through your nipples as his hands cup your tits, running his thumbs over the hardened peaks. Then, ever so slightly, you feel is hips rock against your palm.

“Please.” It comes out as a needy whine as you accept your loss of control. After all, his dominance was one of the most alluring things about him, and after getting tastes of it here and there… you now craved it.

With your simple plea he leans down a bit, grabbing the back of your thighs to haul you up. You wrap your legs around his waist as your surprised squeal quickly turns into an excited giggle. Your hands find the fabric of his cape once more as he quickly strides toward the silver ship.

Once inside, he turns to close the ramp, sealing the two of you in for the night. His body doesn’t leave yours as he fidgets with the control panel before striding towards the end of the hull, pressing your back against the cool metal. He’s eager to feel you, to feel your skin on his. So eager that it takes just seconds for him to strip his hands of his leather gloves and toss them onto the storage crates in the far corner.

He wastes no time gripping your thighs as he helps you to straddle his waist. You throw your head back, sighing as you feel his solid length pressing against your covered heat. You grip the fabric along his neck and shoulders as parts of his armor rub over your covered clit at the most beautiful angles. Mando’s hands reach for the skin of your ass underneath your tunic, sliding easily underneath the fabric. He palms at your flesh as he moves, rolling your hips against his. Your lips find the exposed skin you’d discovered minutes earlier as you mark him again, and again. One of his hands shoots up to hold the back of your neck, keeping your lips pressed against him as he savors the feel of your lips and tongue on his skin. Oh Maker, was that a moan you just heard? Deep and rough as it came through his vocoder between your heavy breaths.

“You said you want this.” He grunts, “What do you want from me, sweet girl? Tell me what you want.” His begs come out raspy and breathless as he continues grinding his hips into you. The feeling of his hips shamelessly rolling against yours as he gives into his desires as exhilarating.

“I want you, Mandalorian. I want to feel more of you.” You moan out, reaching up to cup the side of his helmet.

Mando growls, low and primal at your words. His body pins yours firmly against the wall as his hands drop from your ass to fumble with his belt. While tightening the grip your thighs have on his waist, you reach down to pull your strapless dress up and over your body, tossing it carelessly to the floor. All you’re left in is your long black robe, your panties, and the sandals strapped along your calves.

“Mando…” you whisper breathlessly as you feel the Mandalorian free himself from the confines of his pants. He tugs at his cock, the tip already leaking against your thigh.

“Do you want this?” he asks, his helmet tilting slightly as he watches your reaction.

“Yes.” You reply instantly, staring down between your bodies as you nod. You wish so badly that you could kiss him, reach up and drag his mouth to yours. Taste his tongue as it danced along yours, swallow his moans while he experienced your body for the first time.

Wetness continues to drip from your folds as you watch him fist himself. The fact that this is all happening while he’s still in his armor, so broad and menacing as the Beskar adorns him, only stokes the flame burning inside you.

He hums, a wondering tone to it as he considers his next move. His other hand moves over your thigh and down to your heat, your clit now throbbing in anticipation as he moves your panties to the side.

“I think I wanna try something else first.” He grumbles, his forehead moving closer to yours while your puppy dog eyes stare up at him.

His fingers reach around the curve of your ass, brushing against you. Even as he moves, sliding his digits through your folds, you can feel his gaze. You’re the first to give in, though, as they roll back once a single finger slips inside. A breath of relief rushes out of you, your body tingling at his touch. His finger is thick inside you, causing exquisite waves of pleasure to begin forming in your hips and lower stomach.

“Yeah?” he huffs out, his voice rough as his finger retracts before pressing back in. A whimper escapes from your lips as he adds a second.

“Fuck, how long have you been this wet?” he groans, pumping his fingers into you, your walls fluttering slightly around him.

“Since you had your hand on my back, leading me through that crowd.” You admit breathlessly, grinding back into his hand.

“Liked seeing you like that. So dominant and intimidating.”

His moan hits the air as you speak to him, full of lust while he works his fingers into you. You cry out once they curl, hitting something delicious inside you. Picking up on your body’s cues, he shifts his pelvis against you just enough for pieces of his open belt to press against your clit.

“Mando, yes!”

“You want to cum, mesh’la?” he asks gruffly as he shoves his fingers in and out of you.

All you can do is nod against him with ragged breaths while you grip onto his pauldrons. You can’t believe this is finally happening, and so far, it’s only been his fingers.

“Then cum. Cum for me. Cum on my fingers, sweet thing.”

That’s all it takes for you to reach your release. It’s sudden, much quicker than with your past partners. The feeling is exquisite as your body tightens and convulses around his fingers, the feeling of his Beskar armor rubbing against your clit making you delirious. You shriek against him as you try to keep quiet, knowing the child is still sleeping. Your breathing is harsh and hurried as bliss pulses through you, forcing you to buck your hips into his hand as you ride out your high.

“Mm…” he sighs happily, massaging your inner channel before removing his fingers.

“Good girl.”

Oh Maker, his voice, his praise. You’ve become a needy mess, and all for him. More of him, all of him. He uses your cum to lubricate his length before positioning himself against your entrance. You grab onto his neck when he lifts you slightly only to lower you back down onto him. You gasp at the sensation as he continues to press into you, slightly pulling his hips back before sinking his length deeper inside. He’s thicker than you’d imagined him to be, and longer than you’d experienced in the past. Each inch stretches you open as he presses into you, shifting his hips up while lowering you further down. The two of you breathe out in unison when he bottoms out inside you, pleasure swimming through your veins at finally engaging in the actions you’ve been fantasizing of.

“Mesh’la,” He mumbles through his modulator. “You’re so beautiful. Not just tonight. Every night.”

Your eyes close as you sigh at his sweet words, smiling happily. When your hand falls on the back of his neck, he leans forward to place his forehead against yours. The tips of your fingers curl into the dark fabric draping down his back as he begins to move, slowly rocking his hips back and forth, beginning to build a rhythm.

You adjust to his length quickly as the pleasure inside you builds once more, welcoming his presence. It’s not long before his gentle hold turns into a bruising grip as he continues moving your hips off of him before slamming them back down. Moans and whines fill the air inside the hull, along with the sound of your body slapping against his eager hips.

“I’ve wanted this – fuck, for so fucking long.” He grunts out, his pace only increasing.

From this angle you can feel the muscles in his lower stomach and upper thighs tighten and flex as he spears himself into you. You gasp when he changes the angle, leaning your hips toward the floor so he can rut down into you. His swollen tip presses deep inside you, finding the sensitive area that makes you see stars.

“Me too, Mando… oh, fuck!” you cry out, trying to use your words but failing to utter any more.

“Yeah? Right there, sweet girl?” He asks, chuckling to himself when you cry out again.

“Yes, yes!” you shriek, taking the full force of him thrusting into you.

“Holy shit, Mando.” He proves to be a quick learner as he glances down, swaying his hips until pieces of his armor rub back over your sensitive clit.

“Can you cum for me again?” Mando asks in a tone so sweet that your heart nearly bursts.

“Please… make me.”

He hammers into you, keeping pressure on that deliciously delicate spot deep within your sex. Your walls clench around him, and your hands grip his armor tighter as you feel your impending release. His head lowers to rest on your shoulder as he continues panting, the friction on your clit increasing with each thrust.

“Mando, I’m… fuck, fuck –” you cry out, smacking your hand against his cuirass as your high crashes into you.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he coos, not slowing himself in the slightest as your orgasm rushes through you.

“Maker, you looked so good… so good in that dress tonight.” He grunts out. “Too many eyes on you,” he continues, “on what I want.”

The Mandalorian groans roughly above you, and your body shivers in response. His heavy panting speeds up as if he can’t catch his breath as he continues talking.

“Making me jealous. Kissing that Pantoran.”

“She – oh shit... she kissed me.” Even through your passionate gasps, you do your best to explain yourself. The aftershocks of your orgasm roll through you as he chases his own high.

“I want you to be mine.” He confesses without hesitation. It’s sudden, surprising, yet it fulfills a desperate need you've had for months.

“I’m yours,” you promise. “I’m yours.”

“Fuck!” he gasps out, his hips losing their rhythm, yet thrusting into you with continued strength. “W – where?”

“Inside,” you whisper devilishly, pressing your face into the fabric between his neck and shoulder, “You can cum inside me. I’m safe, I promise.”

With your reassurance, he lets go. He ruts into you harshly as each white rope spurts out of him. The feeling is foreign to you, but not uncomfortable. It’s warm as it fills you, and you suddenly come to terms with the realization that the Mandalorian just came inside you. The thought alone makes you feel like you could cum on him all over again.

His Beskar cuirass steadies as his breathing calms, eventually slowing his thrusts until your bodies still against each other. Your arms wrap fully around his neck as you nuzzle yourself into him, and he returns your affections by shifting his hands up. Large, strong arms wrap around your back as he holds you against him, his helmet resting on your shoulder. After a few more seconds, he pulls himself out of you and drops you gently to the cool floor below. A hand floats up to brush some hair out of your face before tilting you up to meet his covered eyes. He holds your chin while his thumb brushes over your bottom lip.

“Mesh’la.”

mando fights the droids, but a slowed version of “daddy issues” by the neighbourhood plays in the background

Din Djarin Fics - One Shots

UPDATED JUNE 2021

New one shots are in bold

I didn’t write any of these. They are a collection of works that I enjoy and recommend. Assume all stories are 18+ and contain smut (no minors). Review all author’s warnings prior to reading.

PLEASE SUPPORT THE AUTHORS BY REBLOGGING

Bare by @charnelhouse ​ - Link

Beskar: Bestowed by @oonajaeadira ​ - Link

Brand You in the Way That Counts by @charnelhouse ​ - Link

Chrysalis by @jura-moon ​- Link

Comedown by @zinzinina ​ - Link

From Eden by @profkenobi ​ - Link to AO3 (Din Djarin/Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader)

Give You Something To Go On by @charnelhouse ​ - Link

Good Morning Sleepy by @dindjarinsleftboot  - Link

However Far Away… by @princessxkenobi ​ - Link

I Lost Myself by @charnelhouse ​ - Link

In The Dark by @charnelhouse ​ - Link

Just Enough by @starsvck ​ - Link

Light Sleeper by @honeymandos ​ - Link

Only Reflection by @blueeyesatnight ​ - Link

Riddur by @absurdthirst ​ - Link

Sing Me To Sleep by @honeymandos ​ - Link

Stitched by @mothandpidgeon ​ - Link

The Stories We Tell Ourselves by @sirowsky ​​ - Link

Turning Point by @charnelhouse ​ - Link

The Unexpected by @princessxkenobi ​ - Link

The Variable by @charnelhouse ​ - Link

Warmth of You by @ezrasbirdie ​ - Link

You Could Be My Unintended by @charnelhouse  - Link

Asks

@absurdthirst answers asks - Link

MANDO

Zabrak Show Masterlist

Here is my collection of fanfic I’ve written. Almost all of it is Maul-centric.

To join the taglist fill this form out.

 Summaries and warnings are at the top of each post.

Keep reading

The cast of the Original Trilogy had cliched, boring character concepts that were executed wonderfully enough for it not to matter. 

 The cast of the Prequel Trilogy had interesting concepts that were executed poorly enough to make them seem utterly stupid. 

The cast of the Sequel Trilogy had amazing, thought-provoking concepts that were executed in the town square and put up on pikes as a warning to others.

Zabrak Show Masterlist

Here is my collection of fanfic I’ve written. Almost all of it is Maul-centric.

To join the taglist fill this form out.

 Summaries and warnings are at the top of each post.

Keep reading

@swcreators march creation event: locations

CORUSCANT Coruscant is a city-covered planet in the Coruscant system of the Core Worlds. Noted for its cosmopolitan culture and towering skyscrapers, Coruscant’s population consisted of approximately one trillion citizens. Its strategic location at the end of several major trade routes enabled it to grow in power and influence to become the hub of galactic culture, education, finance, fine arts, politics and technology. It is the location of several major landmarks, including the Jedi Temple, Monument Plaza and the Senate Building.

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it’s a creed