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Feb 10, 2024

A Bounty for Reward (Mando x f!reader)

CHAPTER 10

Summary: Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum Warnings: fluff (like a fuck ton), unprotected piv sex, oral (f receiving), graphic violence, weapons, mentions of SA (attempted), language, helmetless!din (omg??) Word Count: 11.2k A/N: Here it is... here's ~the moment~ you've been waiting for

The flicker of the fire between you cast violent shadows on Mando’s armor. You watched as the flames twisted and danced together, a dangerous waltz that erupted into the dark and rose into the air in orange embers. He had managed to find a secluded spot within the outer edge of the forest, only halfway back to the Crest. Your body ached from the walk, and the humidity didn’t help since your clothes were practically stuck to your skin. You didn’t understand how Mando survived under all the layers of armor.

He had caught some frogs along the way, roasting them over the fire to help quell the hunger pains in your stomach. You were grateful for it.

“Mando,” you spoke softly.

He had been fixated on cooking, keeping to himself while you cleaned your blade and watched. His helmet raised without hesitation, the stare that ruminated behind his visor sending chills down your spine.

He waited for you to continue.

“Why me?” you asked.

It was a question without explanation, a question that held more weight than you could hold on your own. You needed answers. You needed clarity. You needed a reason, any reason, to deny yourself the feelings that swelled inside your chest, begging to rupture.

He considered you a moment, carefully turning the stick over the fire as the frog cooked through. His hands folded together, elbows resting on his knees as he looked past the flames that lapped forcibly in the evening breeze.

“I lost my parents in a Separatist attack when I was young,” Mando began, “The Mandalorians taught me to let go of my emotions and follow the Way. My armor became my protection, and I learned that emotions were the weakness I needed to conquer.”

Crestfallen, you continued listening silently, watching his body language tense with each new admission.

“I’ve only ever been loyal to my Clan, but then you show up as this helpless bounty,” he paused, helmet lifting to meet your saddened gaze, “You weren’t a criminal or a murderer. Turning you in wasn’t worth a reward, and I couldn’t figure out why I cared so much. I just did.”

There was a brief silence between you– comfortable, yet the air felt compressed by a heaviness you couldn’t fathom, a slow suffocation that wilted your breath.

You leaned forward, urging him to continue.

“I still do,” he corrected himself. “I’ve tried to deny myself this attachment to you, but I can’t anymore.”

Without thought, you stood, letting your body drift to where he sat. Every molecule in your body strained towards him, every forbidden emotion unraveling inside you. It was dangerous, letting yourself lose to the battle that stirred inside you. You ruined him and took his loyalty from his Clan without realizing it. It was selfish of you to let yourself grow so close, to allow him to grow this close.

You were taking away the very thing that made him a Mandalorian.

How could you?

How could you be so selfish?

Crouching before him, you steadied yourself on the balls of your feet, nails gripping his thighs. You had to make it clear to him that he could not lose himself to you, regardless of what you felt. He had to detach. He had to let go.

“I’m not worth all of this,” you uttered. “I can’t ask you to abandon your Creed.”

Mando reached out, brushing the hair from your face. Shrouded in the shadows the fire cast, he couldn’t see how your eyes pooled with tears; the emotions smothered you, threatening your judgment, blinding you from the decision you chose to make.

It was for the best, you told yourself.

It felt like a lie.

He said your name, a whisper through the breeze that surrounded you.

“I want you to know me, angel. All of me. If I’m going to break my Creed, I only want it to be for you.”

“Breaking your Creed… that means?”

“Ni copaanir haa’taylir ni,” he spoke softly. “I want you to see me.”

“Like without your helmet?” You cautioned.

He nodded, cupping your cheek to steady your gaze.

“Not here. Not now. But when you’re ready, I’ll show you.”

“Mando—.” You whined.

“Just think about it, okay? I’m willing to give you everything. I’m tired of fighting this attachment inside me. I’m tired of pretending this isn’t real.”

You rested your head on his knee, gazing up into the helmet visor, imagining what he looked like behind all the armor. What color were his eyes, and did they ever soften when he looked at you? Was his face as tan as his hands were? Would kissing him feel like coming home? Maker, you never realized how badly you ached to see him, to know every piece of him. He saw you freely every day: your body, eyes, and smile. You wanted to know if his smile was as beautiful as you believed.

You didn’t want to take him from his Creed, but you were so fucking greedy to know him.

“What color are your eyes?” You asked.

He smoothed a thumb over your cheek, and you could hear flames cracking behind your body in the silence.

“They're brown, angel.”

You were crying, and you couldn’t understand why.

He was yours.

Every fiber of your being yearned for him, and you were terrified to accept that you were falling in love—if this was what love felt like. You had never allowed yourself to give into those emotions, nor had you ever been given the opportunity after your parents died. Love wasn’t something you knew. All you knew was pain and aggression. This felt foreign; the emotions inside you were confusing and all too overwhelming. You didn’t deserve this, but maybe you could learn.

“I want to know you,” you admitted. “All of you.”

“I’m yours.”

Mando offered a hand to help you to your feet, leading you back to the log you had been sitting on. He pulled a cooked frog off the fire, extending it to you, and you both ate in harmonious silence.

The fire died out after a few hours, the embers dwindling until there was barely any light between you and Mando. The fatigue from the day had finally caught up to you to its full capacity, and you couldn’t keep from yawning. Mando still sat beside you, his hand resting at the top of your kneecap. He had been able to stop touching you since he caught you, always keeping one hand on your body in some way. Resting your head on his shoulder, you let the cool touch of his pauldron soothe your sweating body and drift off to sleep after fighting it for too long.

Daybreak streaked behind your eyelids, and you woke with a heavy groan. Mando had let you rest against him the entire night, his body tense and alert. Once he knew you were finally awake, he softly squeezed your knee and whispered your name.

“We should get moving,” he said.

Lifting your head, you nodded. Only a few more hours and you’d be back in the safety of the Crest.

“Did you sleep at all?” You asked, stretching your arms to release the tension in your muscles.

“I had to keep watch.”

You were guilty of letting yourself sleep when you knew he hadn’t in days. You caused him so much fear when you’d left he probably hadn’t slept in nearly three days—maybe more. You needed to get back to the ship so he could rest.

“Take the bed when we get back,” you offered. “You can sleep, and I’ll take the floor.”

“There’s still a bounty to hunt,” he sighed. “I promised Karga an extra quarry, so I need to deliver. When we return, I’ll ensure you’re safe and head out again. I don’t think he’s gone far, probably thinks I let him go free, and now he’s sitting idle.”

“I promise not to run.” You attempted a joke, but it didn’t land.

“Better fucking not,” he growled.

Your thighs clenched together at his tone, and you sat up straighter. His threats always managed to snake through your veins in a way you couldn’t help but react to. After all the emotions being laid out on the table, you needed to know how he’d fuck you now.

“Let’s get back to the ship,” you murmured, grabbing his hand and tugging him away from the makeshift campsite.

You never thought you’d be so happy to see the Crest again. Walking up the ramp hand in hand with Mando, you couldn’t help but sigh a breath of relief. You let him wander off to the armory wall, watching as he swapped out his blaster for a new one along with a vibroblade. A hissing noise came from the carbonite chamber, which worried you that the valve was malfunctioning again. You were too far from the village to gather more tools, so you’d have to work with what you had to fix the valve if it was faulty.

“How soon can we get off Sorgan?” You wondered aloud.

Mando clipped the blaster to his belt and walked to look at the chamber with you.

“The moment I catch the bounty, we’re leaving. I need to get to Nevarro to give Karga these bounties, and hopefully, Bo Katan will be ready by then.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to rest?” You chewed at your bottom lip, worrying he’d get hurt on his hunt.

You had barely been back in the safety of his presence for maybe 24 hours, and now he was leaving again. But this time was different; you had a reason to stay. You wanted to stay.

Mando embraced you, his arms snaking around your shoulder blades and squeezing you softly. You inhaled that familiar scent lingering on his suit and armor, nestling your head against his metal breastplate. How did you think you could leave this? You grappled with the guilt still lingering inside of you for all you had done. You tore away everything you had built together, and that trust you once had was hanging on by a thread. But you’d stay and prove to him that you could keep your word.

“I’ll be back soon, angel,” he murmured into your ear. “Be safe, and don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” you mumbled.

After a few more moments wrapped up in each other, Mando was gone. You stared at the space around you, realizing it was the first time you could call somewhere home—an old beat-up fighter ship and a grumpy Mandalorian—that was home now. Nothing else mattered.

Your body was still so exhausted from the trek back to the ship that you collapsed onto the bed and fell into a deep sleep. Thankfully, there were no nightmares or memories to flood your senses, only total darkness. It wasn’t long before you were jolting upwards at the strong smell of gas.

You cursed yourself for not taking care of the gas leak earlier.

Dank Farrik.

Running on little sleep and even lower motivation, you grabbed the toolbox and rummaged for a wrench and pliers. The new valve was supposed to fix the problem in the freezing stage of the carbonite chamber, not make it worse. The leak was worse, the gas escaping further into the hold until it fogged your vision. If it gets any worse, you thought, the entire chamber would be nonfunctional, and it would cause some problems with the bounties Mando had already collected.

Rubbing away the sleep from your eyes, your hands pulled at the leaking valve, inspecting where the issue had begun. The freezer valve you had bought was, in fact, faulty, the heat stripping away a layer of the pipe, leaving a tear in the rubber material. Fuck. There was no way to fix it unless you had a new pipe or some patching material. Even with that, the leak wouldn’t hold for long, especially in the ship's pressurized cabin. The only option you had right now was to try your best to wrap the tear until Mando got you to Nevarro, and you could hopefully find a better mechanic shop.

But for now, you reattached the pipe valve, keeping the bolt on the looser side to prevent another tear. There was nothing remotely close to the material needed that laid around the Crest, so thinking quickly, you stripped away a piece of cloth from the lining of your shirt, tying it tight over the tear. The gas still came out steadily, but far less than it had been moments ago. There was a good chance the fabric would wear away or catch fire, so time was limited on the leak before it turned into a real issue.

With the fragrant gas in the hull, you opted to lower the ramp— despite Mando’s warnings— and release some pressurized air into the open. The fog was dense outside, the visibility minimal as you scanned the perimeter. Something felt ominous about it, but you assured yourself that the location of the Crest was safe. And his bounty was only going to take, at most, a few hours.

Leaving the ramp fully lowered, you returned to the carbonite chamber, checking over the other bounties on the hold. The four in Mando’s possession remained locked into their blocks, the steady red light pulsing on the side, indicating that the freezing gas was still working at total capacity in each block. The good news is that it was an isolated issue. Bad news: Mando wouldn’t be able to store any more quarries without risking destroying the integrity of the entire chamber.

Tapping on the comlink on your wrist, you sent an alert to Mando’s, awaiting a response. Giving him a few minutes to respond— he was on a hunt, after all— you situated yourself on one of the crates closer to the ramp, enjoying the fresh air as it breezed through the hold.

Too much time had passed before you realized he never responded to the initial alert. Pressing the com button, you spoke into it warily.

“Mando, come in.”

Static.

“Mando, come in.”

More static. Enough that electrified your nerves into deep worry. Mando never had comlink issues, and he never took off his comlink.

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself. You couldn’t leave the Crest, and you definitely couldn’t leave the gas leak unattended without the fear of the entire cargo hold catching fire.

Returning to the torn valve, you worked at maneuvering the stripped fabric around it so that it wouldn’t snag on any heated metal. The bolt that held the valve in place was hot to the touch— hotter than usual. Grabbing the wrench again, you twisted off the bolt, cursing yourself as it fell against your palm. The grease left a small burn streak, and you made a mental note to patch it up later.

A med patch! Why you hadn’t thought of it the first time, you didn’t know, but you left the valve exposed while you searched for the med pack Mando left hanging in the refresher. Searching through the pack, you found the med patches, seeing only three left. Mando would have a fit over wasting them on the valve, but it was either this or catching fire. Unwrapping it from its packaging, you peeled away the adhesive, wrapping it strategically around the tear. The patch was thick enough to withstand the gas and heat, buying you more time to find a new valve pipe.

Twisting back on the bolt for good measure, you looked over your work, satisfied for now at the last-minute resolution. If anything, Mando would at least be impressed by your quick thinking. After all, you had been the child of a junkyard owner; you knew your way around most issues.

The burning sting on your skin was your next point of action; the searing red outline of the bolt inflamed against your skin. With only two med patches left, you chose a less sterile option and wrapped your hand with a roll of gauze unraveled in the med pack. It wouldn’t protect it from much, but it was enough of a solution for now.

A rustling outside the Crest alerted your attention, your skin rippling in pulsating nerves. Mando hadn’t responded to his comlink, and the infinite amount of ‘what-ifs’ was too high to consider any good outcomes.

“Mando, come in,” you hissed into the comlink on your wrist.

No response.

Ducking behind a stack of crates, you reach towards the weaponry wall, grabbing at the blaster rifle Mando left behind. He had only taken a vibroblade and blaster, so you internally thanked him for leaving such a big weapon for you to protect yourself with now. Even if you had no fucking idea how to shoot a rifle, you’d try your best. You aimed it through a gap in the crates, eyes laser-focused on the expanse of grass lying in front of you. Holding your breath, you waited.

“Looks like they abandoned it,” a voice grumbled, the sound coming from the left of the ramp. Your eyes snapped towards the side, connecting the voice to the grizzly face of a spice smuggler. Flanked behind him were two more men, both strapped with rifle weapons that resembled Mando’s. Squinting through the gap in the crates, you could see the two armed men wearing bounty comlinks, a hologram of your face displaying over them.

Shit.

So, it was true– more people had their hands on your bounty, and this time, it was for a far higher price in credits. The only thing keeping your fear somewhat at bay was the fact that you were still wanted alive. Kesi wouldn’t want you dead now; he would want you back in his hold to use as he pleased. Or, he wanted to kill you himself. Either way, you wouldn’t let yourself be taken this easily.

The leader of the three began to tromp up the ramp, the weapon in his hands looking to be a modified blaster. The body of the blaster rifle looked standard issue, but with the added power pack clipped into the chamber, it could have the firing rate of a repeating rifle. If that was the case, then your bounty no longer considered the need for you to be alive. The thought of it made your skin crawl.

“Rik,” he motioned to the one flanked on his left to move forward, “Scan the cargo hold. Find anything we can use to find her.”

“Gresk,” he tilted his head to the other, this one a pale green Rodian, “Keep watch on the clearing. I don’t know when that Mandalorian will return, and I don’t want to be caught off guard when he does.”

Gresk responded in a gurgle of noises, turning to stand guard at the base of the ramp. The leader, still unknown to you, began trodding up the ramp, Rik on his left. Your eyes– and rifle– moved with their movements, tracking them through the cargo hold. There would be little coverage for yourself as they moved closer, and you couldn’t shoot down one without risking the others to finish you off.

“I’m going up to the cockpit,” the leader said, “He’s gotta have some sort of tracker on her, or at least previous logged data on her whereabouts.”

“Got it,” Rik said, his hand clenching around his blaster.

As the other man ascended into the cockpit, your focus returned to Rik, who was now siphoning through the cargo crates. Most were empty, sans a few that held miscellaneous ship parts and scrap metal. Luckily, the weaponry cabinet had shut after you grabbed the rifle, the contents of Mando’s arsenal a secret to the bounty hunters on board.

Rik’s footsteps grew closer, and you were running on limited options in terms of survival. He didn’t hold the same modified blaster as the other, but the standard carbine rifle most hunters carried. He would have the upper hand at close range since your range was limited from the floor with the sniper rifle. There was a loud crash in the cockpit, redirecting Rik’s focus, and it gave you the smallest window to make a move.

Scrambling up from the floor, you angled the stock end upwards, driving the edge of it into the hunter’s shoulder. Yelling in pain, Rik tumbled to the ground, writhing in enough pain for you to escape the corner you had been hidden between.

But it wasn’t enough of a safety gap before Gresk turned around, his blaster aiming at you. The plasma blasts skimmed past you, hitting the metal walls behind your head. Yanking the rifle upwards to eye level, you sent a wave of blasts towards him, the use of the rifle scope unnecessary in short range. None of them struck, a disadvantage to your bad luck that was overflowing. Shit. Gresk returned fire, climbing the ramp to get to closer range. You continued to fire the rifle, the blasts searing the walls around him as he closed in. Ducking behind crates wouldn’t stop the plasma beams from striking you, so you opted for no weapons. Hand-to-hand would be more of a benefit to you.

Dropping down, you moved to kick Gresk’s legs out from under him, the blaster falling against the metal ground with a loud clunk. Grunting in pain, Gresk scrambled upwards, grabbing at your pant leg to tackle you down. Hitting the ground hard, your mind fizzled out momentarily, but a moment was all Gresk needed to get the upper hand. Pressing a blade to your throat, he grunted out a few alien words, compressing your airways in the process.

Losing breath, your fingers strained to find the handle of the blaster beside you, scrapping it against the ground until you found a firmer grip. Pressing the barrel to his side, Gresk fell over with a swift pull of the trigger; the release sounds enough to deafen your ears in an echo of vibrations. His body weight sagged onto your chest, your body heaving several breaths as you pushed him off. Wriggling yourself semi-free—your ankle caught under his waist— you laid in contempt, waiting for death or salvation to take its turn on you.

A stirring groan behind you forced your attention, and you watched as Rik dizzyingly began to stand, eyes focused on you as you lay trapped under Gresk.

“Rungar! Found the girl!” Rik yelled, his blaster pointed at you.

With a hand still hugging the blaster beside you, you lifted it high enough to send a shot at Rik, but not without him sending one back down, grazing the top of your left shoulder.

“Fuck!” you yelped, the blaster falling from your hand.

Rik toppled over, the hole burning through his sternum smoldering in red and orange colors. The smack of his head on the crates sent the stack of them crashing into the refresher door, the metal denting under the weight of impact.

The larger of the three, Rungar, as you knew now, clobbered down the stairs, the modified blaster tight in his grip. Your leg was still trapped under Gresk, your shoulder was burning in blinding pain from the blaster shot, and your hopes to come out of this alive were slowly dwindling.

Rungar gave you a toothy grin, his mouth curling upwards under his overgrown beard. He wasn’t dressed like a bounty hunter, nor did he carry the usual weapon of a bounty hunter. The possibility he could be a smuggler or a pirate worsened the situation. Because if he was— more than just bounty hunters had your hologram plastered across the galaxy. And if the information fell into the wrong hands… worse people than Kesi would be on your tail.

Crouching beside you, Rungar let the barrel of his blaster coast over your skin, the coolness of the metal sending debilitating chills up your spine. He let it glide over your stomach and chest and finally let it rest on the burn at the top of your shoulder. You winced in pain, unable to hold back a whine as he dug it in further.

“It’s a real shame that Mandalorian isn’t here,” he thought out loud, “I was hoping to kill him off, too.”

When nothing but a whimper escaped your lips, he continued, his eyes dancing over your injured body.

“You made this far too easy for me,” he said, slowly lifting your chin with the barrel of his gun.

Squirming under his touch and Gresk’s body, you pulled your free leg around, knocking Rungar sideways in a loss of balance. His finger pulled against the trigger in his daze, a sputter of blasts bouncing around the cargo hold. Shards of metal and wood rained down on you, and you struggled to free your trapped ankle as Rungar gathered himself again. With another forced tug, your ankle slid free, and your hand came around to deliver a hard punch to Rungar’s side.

The force of the hit hurt your hand more than it hurt him, as he laughed at your attempt to stun him.

“I like it when my girls put up a fight,” he snarled, pulling your hand into a bone-breaking vice.

Yelping in pain, you stood paralyzed as his thick fingers twisted around your skin, the bones under his grip rubbing against one another. Refusing to give up yet, you threw your leg around his calf, pulling it forward until his weight gave out under him, his body sent flailing forward against Rik’s dead body. Shifting his hold on your wrist, you pulled his arm around his back, the bones in his shoulder cracking as you yanked it backward.

Rungar screamed in a mixture of pain and anger, his face twisting back to see you. You smiled, gripping his wrist tighter, watching as he writhed in pain below you. But it didn’t last long as he rolled his body, dismissing the pain in his shoulder as he brought his blaster up to aim at you. With only a millisecond to react, the shot skimmed past your face, leaving a devastating hole in the metal behind you. Not only was the modified blaster able to shoot automatic rounds, but it also had a more significant target attached to its barrel. The larger the target, the bigger the destruction.

The only option left that you had now was to run. Mando was unresponsive, and the Crest was standing in literal tatters as the destruction of the blasters caused too much cosmetic damage. You were lucky enough that none of the shots had hit the broken valve– one shot would have sent the entire ship up in flames and you with it. Turning to run, you trampled over Gresk’s body, nearly tripping with the lack of strength your ankle had from being trapped so long. Another round of shots fired off behind you, this time one hitting you in the back of your thigh. It wasn’t a full shot, but the shrapnel of the plasma had hit you enough to leave you injured and falling to your face.

“Maker, fuck!” You screamed, your hand instinctively reaching back to feel your skin tinged with the burn.

“I told you,” Rungar’s voice crept closer, “I like it when you put up a fight.”

His hands groped your body, pushing you over onto your back. The stench of his breath was hot on your cheek as he leaned into you, lips roaming over your chin and neck.

“I like it even more when they can’t fight back,” he laughed, the tip of his tongue skating over the pulse surging under your throat.

It sickened you, blinding all senses as you fell victim to his power. You seethed with anger as you felt his hands trailing over your body, fingers digging into the burning flesh of your thigh. You screamed in pain, tears spilling over your cheeks. All you could do was struggle and squirm under his hold, your arms pinned at your sides. Your fingers search for anything you could use against him, wishing— no, begging—for release from this nightmare. Too often had you experienced this exact moment with several other men and clients, and you wouldn’t let your last moments alive end like this. You wouldn’t let yourself die without telling Mando how you felt and how much you needed him. You had control; you had the strength to fight back this time.

Fumbling fingers brushed against something metal, and the blade handle grazing your fingertips. In his own daze, Rungar was incapacitated to feel any motion below him, and you took the opportunity to grab onto the handle with desperate force.

Holding your breath, you pulled slowly, coaxing it free from the leather holster at his hip. You could still feel the crawl and dig of his fingers as he roamed your chest, kneading the soft flesh of your skin with low groans in his throat. It was easy to fixate on the surge of bile stirring in your stomach, but you suppressed it, keeping focus on pulling the blade free.

With a heavier yank than expected, you freed the blade, the jerk of your elbow a brief distraction for Rungar. His eyes grew in rage as he saw the blade gripped between your fingers.

“You stupid bitch!” He roared, knee driving into your abdomen to keep you pinned.

You reeled over, the pain shooting up your body as you tried to keep centered on the goal of staying alive. Rungar’s hands shot to yours, fighting with the blade as you kept a white-knuckled grip around the handle. Minor cuts grazed his calloused fingers, but they were no concern to him as he continued prodding your fingers open.

He was nearly successful in pulling your fingers free, the blade slightly slipping out as he shifted his weight, giving you a fraction of room to slide free of his hold and scramble onto your knees. Regaining balance and control, you plunged the metal knife upwards into his chest, driving it right between the soft tissue of his collarbone. Twisting it with what little strength you had left, you listened to the harmony of his screams, digging it further in. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but enough to disable him briefly so that you could gather yourself.

Grabbing his weapon from beside his writhing body, you unleashed a round of shots into his body. It should have sickened you, seeing the hail of plasma destroy the dirtied skin of the pirate. But in the blinded, desperate rage… watching him struggle in death felt good. It was a moment of power, a moment to claim back all you had lost over all the years in Kesi’s hold. It wasn’t just his death; it was the death of every single man that had touched you. Every time you said no, every unwanted touch, every night tied up in the dark… it was all dead in your memories.

Pain erupted from you as you turned to the other two lifeless bodies, another round of shots laying claim until there was no longer recognition in their features. Rik and Gresk were minimized to nothing but seared flesh and charred bones. Never had you seen— or done— anything so gruesome. But still, you didn’t feel sick. Not an ounce of remorse tingled in your body, nor did you feel the pain of your injuries.

You felt triumphant.

You felt reclaimed.

You kept to yourself for the next few hours, watching the sun pass over the sky behind thick layers of fog. The ramp stayed lowered as you let the smell of burning flesh roll out into the open. At first, the scent tinged your nose, but it had been long enough now that you no longer noticed the stench. Your adrenaline was also slowing in your veins, replaced by the paranoia of other hunters coming for you. Mando still was unresponsive in the comlink, and you had given up trying. Keeping the modded weapon near you, you replayed the events repeatedly in your head, wondering what more you could have done. You had been successful, yes, but not successful enough.

In the distance, you saw the outline of reflective beskar emerging through the forest's edge. Mando was hauling the bounty on the cable he had used on you just days ago. The dead bounty dragged against the muddy ground, leaving a trail with each step Mando made. Taking in the situation before him, Mando unclipped the cable from his waist and sprinted toward you.

Rising from the ramp, you walked down slowly, watching in simmering anger as his silhouette jogged closer, his pace approaching a cautious stride. Looking at the remnants of the fight, Mando paused several yards from you. Your body twitched, a deep yearning for him folding over the other emotions that swam within your bloodstream. Tossing the blaster lazily to the ground, you closed the gap between you, standing feet from him.

“Is your comlink broken?” You bit, the rage no longer at a simmer but a full-on boil.

“You’re injured,” he stated, his helmet trailing over the outline of your body.

“Oh, so your eyes work at least,” you snarled.

Your name was a whisper on his tongue, “What happened?”

“I got ambushed. Three hunters.”

“And they’re dead?” He cautioned, focus now turning to the spectacle behind you.

The smoke that had since filtered out of the Crest now danced through the clouds and fog above you.

“I had no choice. You weren’t responding,” you accused.

“The bounty got a good shot in. Bounced off my comlink and smashed the transmitter,” Mando explained, raising his wrist to show the proof.

The metal attached to his wrist guard was bent inward, shards of the comlink jutting out in all directions. It was nonrepairable, the transmitter far beyond the point of replacement. The entire comlink would need to be replaced, and that just added to the list of things to fix on Nevarro.

“They’re dead?” he asked again, and this time, you turned towards the destruction, nodding as you looked upon the Crest.

“Yeah,” you sighed.

More than dead, you thought to yourself.

“I’m proud of you,” his voice was rugged, a hint of something under his words.

“That I killed people?” You scoffed. “You’re proud I’m a murderer now?”

“No. I’m proud you defended yourself,” he corrected himself.

“I had no choice.” You were bitter.

Turning from him, you began walking back to the Crest, a slight limp in your leg as the pain faded and went. There were still fizzles of adrenaline shooting through your nerves, enough to pacify the sting of the blaster shot. Mando’s heavy boots followed suit, his pace quickening to match yours.

“How bad is it?” He asked. About your injury or the mess, you didn’t know.

“My leg or my shoulder?” You continued walking, unphased.

Mando’s hand grabbed at your arm, twisting you around. His helmet did a long once over of your body, settling again on your face.

“How hurt are you?”

“I haven’t had time to look, but I assume it's pretty bad,” you lamented. “Three against one isn’t very good odds.”

“You came out alive,” his voice was softer now. “I like those odds.”

A moment stalled between you, and you could feel your anger phasing out the longer you stood in his presence. Something about the security of his body, the armor he wore, the weapons he carried— it all summed up into a man you couldn’t live without any longer. How you could survive in the universe without him, you didn’t know; the luck you had today would run out eventually.

You wondered if Mando could feel your anger dissipating the longer he stared because you felt the way your chest slowed its rise and fall as it returned to a normal staccato of breathing. His gloved fingers grazed over your shoulder, your shirt covered in dried blood that clung to your charred skin. It was a tender feeling as his thumb rubbed the swollen skin around the wound, yet something else inside you pulsed in earnest need. Maker, what was this?

“I should have some bacta spray in the med pack. I’ll patch it up,” he decided.

“Well,” you stalled. “We have a bit of cleaning to do first.”

“It can wait. You risk infection if we don’t get it sprayed and bandaged first.”

“Mando…” You were weary, “It’s bad.”

There was a hitch in your breath, your eyes bouncing between his visor and the smoking ship. Yes, you had sat on the ramp and watched the day pass, but you hadn’t looked back on the mess you had left.

It wasn’t a mess.

It was a massacre.

The adrenaline was thickening in your veins, slowing all blood flow entirely. No longer were you seeing the world around you in a haze; reality was a bitch that bit down hard. The pain in your extremities came on suddenly, then all at once, inspiring your ability to stand much longer. Sagging into his side, you clung to Mando’s breastplate, nails digging into hardened beskar. His hand caught under your armpit, hauling you up against his body, helmet peering down on you in silent worry.

“You shouldn’t have waited this long,” he scolded, “You’re probably infected already.”

“Mando,” your voice was barely above a whisper, the pain stripping away your voice. It was all you could breathe out before a wave of tears and cries burst from your chest.

Images of the men's bodies and their mutilated features tore through your mind, the vivid memories painted permanently in the indents of your brain. It was a choice you had to make, yet it sickened you to know you caused this damage.

“Whatever it is, I can deal with it,” he assured you. “What matters right now is you.”

He pulled you tighter against his body, his grip on your side enough to keep you pinned against him as he walked you both forward back to the Crest. The smell of smoke had long carried off, at least to you, and you didn’t know what Mando could or could not smell.

“I’m so sorry.” It was an apology mostly to yourself.

The Crest was painted with blaster shots, their rounds embedded in the steel shell of the ship. Splatters of body parts were strewn across the ground, the flesh mixing with shards of wood that had exploded in the crossfire. It was horrifying to look upon the ship with fresh eyes, the ghosts of their struggle plastered across the expanse of the cargo hold. A silent cloud of understanding hung over Mando as he walked you through the maze of destruction, his hand occasionally reassuring you with a small squeeze. He spoke nothing as he looked onwards at the fragments left in your wake, the shrapnel of your past lodged within the metal bearings of his ship. Rungar had awoken a beast inside you, one that preyed and hungered for your vulnerability. For so long, you had been able to smother the darkest parts of your past, to silence the screams within your mind with distractions. Mando had even been a distraction– his life constantly moving and his quiet needs that met yours in the desperate moments that melted together. Odd enough, his pain and your pain weren't too far off; the only difference was that he hadn’t seen your pain unravel in front of his eyes.

No one had.

Not even you.

Mando offered no words as he scanned the remainder of the Crest, his boots walking meticulously through the pathway of bodies, finding his way to the med pack lying on the ground. Surprised to find it intact, you watched as Mando siphoned through the components in search of the bacta spray and the med patches. Your wounds were pulsating in pain, the effects of your emotions getting the betterment of your mind and body, the need to stay awake and alert slipping away the longer you waited for Mando to find the spray.

“Hey,” he snapped, noticing as your head fell against the gash on your shoulder. Your eyes blinked softly at him, mind foggy as you watched his helmet turn from one into two.

“M’sorry Mando,” you muttered. “I lost it. I really lost it, didn’t I?”

His hand shot to your face, fingers pinching at your cheek until you knocked consciousness back into your body. Panic tore through his body language as he rushed further into finding the bacta spray, finally gripping it and two med patches in his hand. You had forgotten there were only two left.

“Two should be enough to cover these right now, but I’ll need to get more so we can change them in a few days,” he explained, laying them out as he readied the spray can. “I swear I had more of them.”

“You did,” you groaned, head lulling to the side again. Catching it, Mando focused your eyes on his visor, shaking your jaw until you stayed upright. “The freezer valve on the carbonite chamber was leaking, so I used a med patch to save us some time until we could buy a new pipe.”

Mando’s head turned over his shoulder, considering your work restoring the contraption. While the rest of the ship was questionable in terms of functionality, the carbonite chamber was still fully functioning, albeit with the small leak that had been subdued.

“I’m sorry.” It was the only words you could find fitting in the silent expanse around you. “Fuck, I’m really sorry.”

You drew your hands to your face, forgetting the burn that stung your palm, now ripped open and dirtied from fighting. The gauze you had covering it was now bloodied and stained, another reminder of the mess you had created.

“I fucked up,” you muffled your cries in your hands, “I ruined your ship. I—I killed people. I’m a fucking murderer. I’m a murderer, Mando!”

Your cries turned into sobs, your body shaking as you continued hiding your face behind your bandaged hands. Soft, gloved hands reached out, taking your wrists in a strong vice. With blurred eyes and cheeks dewy from tears, you woefully watched as Mando turned your injured hand over in his, examining the burn with expert consideration. You were a fucking mess, coming completely undone in front of a man that should rather want you dead, at least for the damage you had done on his fucking ship.

“You’re not a murderer,” he spoke, his finger brushing over the inflamed skin of your palm. “You defended yourself, and there’s a difference. You had no choice, right?”

You were silent.

“Right?” He asked again, this time with an edge of exasperation.

All you could do was nod, the muddy images of Rungar on top of you slowly floating to the surface of your memory. Shot after shot, your mind snapped into the moment— under his bodyweight, under his hold, under his breath. Wagging your head in protest, you shoved what remained of your unfortunate encounter into the depths of your mind, hoping they could rot away in the darkest corners.

Your name off Mando’s tongue was enough to quell the wrench inside your heart, a pacifier to the surmounting pain that overflowed beyond the reaches of your nerves and mind. Guiding your hand away from your body, Mando covered it in bacta spray, followed by a pained wince off your lips.

“I won’t use the med patch on this, but we’ll need to keep it clean,” he said.

“Mhmm.”

You were fading, your consciousness slipping the further you succumbed to the pain and trauma. Mando’s hands were rough on your skin, a force to keep you alert and steady on him. Yet, you ached to lose yourself to the pull of sleep. If you were asleep, at least you could forget the world burning around you.

You were destruction in the human form.

Everything you had ever known was gone, and part of you— all of you— wondered if it was your fault.

Had you fought harder, maybe your parents would still be alive.

Had you fought harder, maybe you wouldn’t have been Kesi’s slave.

Had you fought harder, maybe you could have kept your freedom.

But now, this was all you were. All you would ever be.

A hopeless mess.

Failure.

That’s all Mando could think as he pieced together the mess inside the hull. He was a failure. He left her alone somewhere he thought was safe. He risked her life for a bounty. He almost lost her. All in a single day. He was a fucking failure.

He had carried her limp body to the bed, hand smoothing down her matted hair. Despite it all, he was proud of her. Proud that she outsmarted three bounty hunters. Proud that she fought them off. Proud that she made it out alive.

She shouldn’t have had to do any of that in the first place had he been there with her. He should have stayed; he should have taken off his fucking helmet and claimed her, body and soul until the world collapsed around them. She needed him more than anything, and he failed.

His mind reeled on an endless loop of hopelessness. And at the core of it all was this twisting inside his heart, thinking of the possibility that almost turned reality; he had nearly lost her.

He knew there was a possibility other hunters were out to find her, but he had been so caught up in this comfortable world they built together that he didn’t consider the risks. He had failed her in more ways than one.

And he would rip the galaxy to shreds if that meant keeping her alive.

She was his entire world now.

He left the cockpit after a while, setting the navigation for Nevarro. He needed to return his bounties; they needed more supplies to fix the Crest. More importantly, he needed to meet with Bo Katan and rid the galaxy of the man he hated most.

Whatever happened in the hull, the Crest had nearly been desecrated. He hadn’t let her see his shock when they walked up the ramp; he had been far more concerned with the state she was in. But the destruction inside was enough to tell him she fought hard. The metal frame of the hull was littered with blaster holes, now burnt into gaping black spaces. Crates were destroyed, vibro blade marks scattered the floor paneling, and worst of it all was the blood that covered almost everything.

Mando couldn’t distinguish where one body started and the other ended. Each one was massacred to the point he could no longer identify them by face or body. He shuddered at the images that burned into his memory. He had never seen such brutality before. She had poured every ounce of her anger into those rounds of shots, and his heart ached for her. She held so much pain and fear, always staying strong for him, that in those moments of survival, she let them consume her.

He didn’t know what they had done to her, and anger seized him every time he thought of the possibilities. When she was ready to open up, he’d listen. But he would be patient. Grief and guilt consumed her.

But he would be damned if he let her pain be her pain alone.

Hours passed, and he had finished cleaning what he could of the Crest and found himself settling into the silence of the cockpit. She was still sleeping heavily in his bed, and he needed to find the right words to calm her when she woke.

She killed them, but she wasn’t a murderer.

She fought for herself. She was strong.

She survived.

But more importantly, he needed to prove his loyalty to her. He would remain at her side no matter what the galaxy threw at them because she meant more to him than any Creed or Clan. He needed her to see him even if she wasn’t ready.

You awoke in a blazing silence that sat heavy around you. Every muscle in your body screamed in pain, the adrenaline rush now fully satiated. Waking alone was jarring, and you feared for a moment you hadn’t survived. Was this hell? The silence was deafening, the darkness thick and washing over you.

Where was Mando?

With a rasping voice, you called out for him. You peeled your body away from the bed, scared to revisit the horrors inside the hull. But as you limped around in the darkness, there was no trace left of the bodies that had been laid out. Aside from the lingering blaster holes, everything had been cleaned. Your heart seemed to seize with a profound sense of gratitude. Mando had done this for you. Somewhere inside you, you knew that.

“You’re awake,” his voice was rough.

You jolted at his sudden appearance, leaning against the ladder of the cockpit. He was in nothing but his pilot suit and helmet, the dark visor tracking you as you walked the path through the empty space. His presence soothed the ache in your bones, and you so desperately needed to feel his arms wrapped around you.

“You cleaned it.”

His helmet dipped, the silence fading back into place. You paced around, your feet drifting you closer to his body. He didn’t move, only watched you silently. You had been used to the silence, but now all you wanted was his words filling the air around you. You needed to drown out the silence.

“I’m sorry—I… It’s all a blur.”

“I know, angel.”

“I didn’t—.”

“Stop,” he said. The word sounded strained, hurt. Had you hurt him?

This ship was his home, and you let so much damage come to it. You failed him. You failed yourself.

He pushed off the ladder, stalking you in the darkness. A thread tethered between the two of you wound tight, pulling you both closer until you were toe to toe. His height forced your neck to bend, eyes searching for something hidden behind the helmet. You inhaled the smell of smoke and gunpowder falling off his body; it smelled like home.

“First, please do not apologize,” he started. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his gloved fingers smoothing your skin.

“Second,” he exhaled, “You are not a murderer. You did exactly what I would ask, and that is to fight.”

You nodded slowly, trying to believe the words he said. It was so easy for him to say those things, but living with them was harder for you.

“I’m proud of you, angel. So proud.”

More tears streamed down your face. He saw past the destruction, past the pain, and saw right into you. Darkness lingered inside you, and you knew he saw and understood it. You were two souls entangled, lost together within the chaos. He made you feel seen.

“I’ve held so much inside myself,” you shakily exhaled. “It all just came crashing down. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop myself. I—It was like I was outside of my body.”

“I need you to understand what you did wasn’t wrong.”

Your tears hadn’t yet subsided; they blurred your vision, and all you could do was bury yourself in his arms. Mando wrapped himself around you, pinning you to his body, holding you through each shaky breath.

You pulled away, his arms still wrapped tightly around your waist. Mando reached toward his helmet with an audible exhale, his fingers curving under the metal. Instinct told you to slam your eyes shut, and that’s exactly what you did. You wanted to see him; you were ready. But it still didn’t feel real. The moment his helmet came off, everything would become a reality, and you’d never have to imagine what he looked like again. He’d officially ruin his loyalty and abandon his Creed, and you still grappled with the selfishness inside you that was taking him from that. Would he regret it?

“Mando—.” You tried to protest.

He hushed you quietly, and then came the sound of your name. Unmodulated. Raw and real. The sound was far more delicious off his tongue without a filter. Your name was almost your undoing, your eyes watering again and squeezing tighter. He said your name again, now a plea of his lips.

“I want you to see me. Whatever I am without this armor, I am yours,” he confessed. “My loyalty for my Creed is stripped away now. You are my Creed, and all I know is you. Please, angel, just open your eyes.”

Your lips trembled, your cheeks hot and wet from an endless flow of tears that would not cease.

“Mando,” you whispered.

A beat of silence passed. “Din. My… My name is Din.”

And there it was: the dam breaking. Your eyes slowly opened, and everything around you ceased to exist. Even in the shadowed darkness, his features began to morph into an actual reality. Here he was— Din—standing before you, stripped bare of his Creed.

Dark curls stuck to his forehead matted from the helmet, but you yearned to run your fingers through them. They curled around his temples, graying in some places. His skin was tan despite never seeing the sun, and his chin was covered in days-old stubble, greying along the edges of his jawline. And his eyes… maker, his eyes. Pools of chocolate that caught the light even in the darkest space. They were radiant and glowing as you drew in a shaky breath. Everything you had searched for lay within those irises. Soft, warm, inviting. His lips were just as welcoming, the bottom one more pouty than the top, the curve of his lazy smile, everything you had imagined— yet so far from what you had expected. He was beautiful, encompassed in a rough exterior and soft features.

“Din,” you whispered.

His eyes shut, his lips forming a brilliant smile.

“Maker, I’ve wanted to hear your voice say my name for so long.”

Then his lips were crashing into yours, desperate and hungry. This was coming home. Passion, agony, longing, needing. Every unsaid emotion spoken in tongues, searching for each other. Your fingers tangled themselves in his curls, sweat still dampening them as you raked your nails over his scalp. He let out a satisfied groan against your open mouth, and you swallowed every unmodulated sound. Maker, you loved the noises he made. Craved them. Needed them.

His arm snaked around your waist, the other pulling your leg around his torso. You lifted the other, pressing yourself to him, wanting every space between your bodies to dissolve until there was no telling where you began and he ended. His hand came up to hold your neck, fingers brushing over your skin as he claimed you with another bruising kiss. You moaned against him, feeling his hardness pressing against your body. You met his need with a deep ache in your core, desperate to know the way his face would twist into bliss when he was buried inside you. You wanted to see every face he could make— every emotion.

You pulled from his lips hesitantly, eyes roaming over a face so new but so known within your soul. Lips swollen, you smiled broadly at him, disarmed and content. This was your Mando. Your Din.

Din.

Maker, knowing his name, was a gift on its own.

And the words tumbled out before you could catch them.

“I love you, Din.”

His eyes blazed with profound emotion, softness, and darkness blurring within the gold flecks inside his chocolate pools. His head dipped into the crook of your neck, pressing open-mouth kisses against your neck. You could feel the hum from his chest against your pulse, your thighs squeezing his torso as you quelled the need that bubbled under the surface.

“I love you,” he mumbled, kissing softly against the shell of your ear. “Maker, so much. I love you so much, angel.”

You ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly until his eyes met yours.

“Then fuck me like you love me,” you demanded.

He unraveled.

Everything moved in a blur as he walked you back against the wall of the cargo hold, his mouth leaving sweltering kisses down your neck and collarbone. The pain from your injuries still radiated faintly through your body, but you could shove it aside to relish in his touch on you.

“I need you, Din,” you whined, his lips trailing down your sternum as he pulled down your sleep shirt.

His mouth ravished your breasts, his teeth grazing over your nipples and soft flesh, leaving bruises in their wake. He was marking you. And you fucking loved it.

You pulled at his soft curls, basking in the feel of his hair through your fingers. You had ached to know how he felt under the helmet, no matter how selfish, and you reveled in knowing every part of him now.

His lips crashed against yours, his hand coming up to your throat and squeezing lightly. You moaned into his open mouth, and he swallowed every sound you made.

“You’re mine, angel,” he growled. “Fucking love you s’much.”

He pulled you from the wall, lowering you both to the ground without a care to make it to the bed. That was fine with you. You needed him inside you now. Pulling at his flight suit, Din stripped it off in one move, then returned his attention to your sleep clothes. You shed your shirt, hissing at the cold of the floor beneath you. He ripped away at your shorts, exposing your whole body to him.

Scars and all, he loved you. Maker, he loved you. You would never tire of it.

“I can’t promise I’ll be gentle,” he confessed, his hand roaming down your stomach. You squirmed under his touch, lifting your hips with a whine, hoping he would move his touch lower. “You tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

You nodded, eyes heavy-lidded now. “Give me all of it, Din. I can take it. Just want you now.”

His hand traveled lower, feeling you slick between your thighs already. A groan escaped his lips as he pushed two fingers in, your body flexing around them as he curled them inside you. His tempo sped up, the only noises filling the space coming from your breathy moans as he hit the spot that made you see stars.

“Din!” You cried, clawing at his arms as he pulled the orgasm from your body. Your back arched off the floor, your cunt clamping around his fingers as stars around you exploded.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, leaning down to capture your lips against his.

Wasting no time, Din aligned with your core, thrusting to the hilt. You screamed out his name, legs wrapping around his waist as he drew back and plunged in again. His thrusts were hard and brutal, your skin biting against the metal floor. It was piercing and violent, but you drank in the way he claimed every part of you.

“Fuck,” he rasped your name, his hand wrapping your neck. You took a deep breath before he tightened his hold, drawing the air from your body.

His pace quickened, his cock bruising against your cervix in a ferocity he hadn’t even shown before. You were entirely at his mercy, unraveling under his hold until another orgasm simmered under the surface.

“Please,” you gasped under his choking grip.

With his other hand, Din found your clit and began rubbing in slow circles until you were crying for release. His hand squeezed tighter until your vision blurred, and everything but he disappeared around you.

“Cum for me, angel. Give me everything,” he growled, his brown eyes clicking with yours. There was so much fire behind his eyes, hunger and thirst that gazed upon you.

Your body obeyed, and you thrashed under him, tossed into the current of euphoria as your cunt clenched his cock into a vice. His breath came out ragged as his body tensed with his release, filling you full until he slumped against you. His hand fell off your neck, tangling into the mess of your hair.

You gasped for a lung full of breaths, your arms snaking around his broad shoulders to hold him against you. With his cock still nestled deep inside you, you kissed below his ear and down his neck.

“Keep doing that, and I’ll never want to stop fucking you,” he groaned, thrusting softly into you.

You lifted your hips to meet him thrust for thrust, your body moving with his. You couldn’t get enough of him, only wanting everything he could give you.

He was yours. All yours. This mysterious bounty hunter: your salvation and savior. He saw every part of you and still loved you. You would never be alone again in this galaxy, always protected and always loved.

“I love you, Din,” you whispered, stroking his untamed curls. You could feel his smile against your skin, a smile for you and you alone. You’d never tire of his face and the beauty of it.

“I love you, angel,” he sighed.

His cock grew harder inside you, and you could feel an orgasm coiling inside your core again. You were insatiable, just as he was.

In one swift move, Din had you pinned on your stomach, his hands yanking your hips up until your knees were scraping the ground.

“Fuck!” You cried as he filled you once again.

His hips connected with yours with each thrust, your cunt sore and crying for release. You could feel yourself coming undone again, a strange feeling unraveling inside you. The orgasm was close; you knew it, but something foreign inside you pushed you closer to the edge. His cock was jackhammering into you, hitting your core at the right angle, and without warning, your body caved into the release, your cunt drenching him.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, fingers bruising your hips. “Fuckin’ soaking me, baby.”

You didn’t even have the energy in you to be embarrassed by the liquid seeping out of you as he continued pounding into your body. All you could feel was the wetness rolling down your thighs and his body pressing against you. His hips began to rock slower, deeper, harder until he was cuming inside you with your name falling off his lips.

Din rested his body weight on you, his hands brushing away the dampened hair from your face. Your breathing was ragged as you came down from your high, your body alight with pain and bliss. With a soft kiss to your temple, Din rolled off your body, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. You turned your head to face him, body slumping into the ground as you gathered your bearings. Your cunt ached from his roughness, yet you still felt insatiable. But your body throbbed with pain from your injuries again, and you groaned into the metal floor.

“Was it too much?” He asked, brushing away the hair from your face.

You muttered a soft no, curling into his body. The feeling of his bare chest against yours was everything you had dreamed it to be. You ran your fingers up his stomach, tugging at his chest hair lightly before tracing the outline of his collarbone. You were memorizing every inch of his body, too in awe to believe this was real. Lifting your face to meet his, you kissed along his jawline, finding a gap in his scruff where his skin was smooth and warm.

“You love me,” you sighed.

“I think I have since the start,” he admitted.

“Even when I was a pain in the ass?” You teased.

His laugh rumbled through his chest, the sound of it so beautiful.

“You still are, angel.”

He rolled on top of you, caging you between his muscular frame. He dipped his head down to capture your lips in a soft kiss, coaxing your mouth open to slip his tongue over yours. You let out a small whine, feeling his cock harden against your thigh. You were both so fucking insatiable.

“I need to taste you,” he moaned.

Kissing down your body, Din pulled your thighs around his shoulders, careful to avoid your injury. As his head dipped lower, your breath stalled, the slickness between your thighs a devastating revelation into how much you needed him. His mouth trailed further, wet lips meeting your inner thighs. You careened back, your head pushing further into the metal floor.

“So fucking perfect,” he whispered, mouth grazing your wet cunt.

“Please,” You begged.

Wasting no more time, his mouth was on you, tongue devouring anything it could touch. You squirmed at the sensitivity of your cunt, his tongue drawing slow circles around your clit. Strangled groans of pleasure erupted from his chest as you bucked your hips against his tongue, begging for more. Taking control, Din shoved his tongue inside you, gathering every bit of juice leaking out, forcing a wave of pleasure to surge through your belly.

“Din—.” Your voice was hoarse, a sob choking your words.

Your pleas were cut off as his mouth clamped around your clit, sucking it until you were shaking through an orgasm. A cry of relief fell from your lips, your thighs clenching around his thick neck, his shoulders keeping them in place as you returned to your body. His eyes peered up at you through dark lashes, a wave of desire flashing through his irises.

“I think you can give me one more,” he challenged.

His tongue darted out, licking up your folds and pressing against the throbbing bud of your clit. He didn’t even move his tongue, only applying pressure against it while you fought off another surging orgasm. Your hands reached out to grip his curls, holding him against your cunt as you rolled your hips. His growl vibrated against your body and his fingers bruised your hips as he held you tighter.

“Ride my face, angel,” he rasped.

Your body was shaking as you ground your clit against his tongue. You caved in to the feral need to cum for him, your entire body electrified by the sensation of his mouth against you. Your mouth fell open, and you exhaled his name as the orgasm tore through you, ripping you apart from the inside out. Everything was heightened around you; the feel of his tongue lapping at your swollen clit, the stubble on his jaw rubbing against your skin, the soft curls of his hair that intertwined between your fingers. You must have cried through the last orgasm because your cheeks were damp with tears, and you could taste their saltiness rolling onto your lips.

“C’mere,” you whispered, yanking at his curls.

Din climbed over you, peppering your sweaty skin with kisses as he made his way back up, burrowing his head into the crook of your neck. Maker, you were the luckiest woman in the galaxy.

He was yours; body and soul.

“Din,” you whispered, massaging his shoulders.

He groaned at your touch, his body weight pressing into you.

“Yes, angel?”

“Thank you.”

He nipped at your neck, humming against your skin.

“For what?” He asked.

“Saving me.” You meant it in more ways than one.

“Always,” he promised.

#mando x reader #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando #mandalorian fanfic #star wars fanfiction #helmetless!din #so much fluff #eat your heart out

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