That Moment When You Have To Give Back Daddy’s Helmet But You REALLY Don’t Want To!!!

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.

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Father and son gazing at each other

drabble with mando + breeding 👀

utter filth for you, my love 💜

f!reader cw: explicit, 18+, unprotected p in v, excessive cum play, breeding kink of course, baby mention

He won't say it—not yet. It's too soon, too early in your relationship, and you both have implants.

But you know he's obsessed.

Din is obsessed with fucking you full and then doing it again, spilling inside you until it leaks out around the fat base of his cock. Until a thick, hot trickle slips down the curve of your ass and leaves a sticky spot on the sheet underneath you. Until your pussy is a little sore from taking the girth of him over and over—hard, because that's how he needs to give it to you.

He doesn't say it, won't make a demand, but he insists on keeping you tucked under him for a while, even after. For as long as you allow it, he keeps his face buried in your neck, sucking sweet kisses under your ear, petting you like you're something precious. Soft inside you, his solid weight a grounding presence, he relaxes on top of you to keep his cum where it belongs.

Eventually, reluctantly, he pulls away. He drops back to his heels and pushes your thighs open and up, dipping his head to admire the sight of it, the gloss where it wells at your entrance. There's a specific wistful groan you've come to recognize—a sound square between deep satisfaction and unspoken desire.

He's looking at something so close to what he really wants.

And even then, he uses his fingers, slick and gentle, to catch the rogue milky drops and press them back inside you, humming low in filthy contentment as he puts it back in its rightful place.

Sometimes, once he's satisfied with his work, he ducks his head to kiss you there, where you're full of him. As if to claim...that's mine.

No, he won't say it yet.

But you know Din will fuck a baby into you the very moment you ask.

MANDO

it’s a creed

Climbing Trees

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Din is fascinated with you and your ability to make everything in life fun again. 

Word Count: 1k

Din loved you. With his entire heart, his whole being and soul, he loved you, and he knew it nearly from day one.

Well. Okay, he had his doubts. I mean, how could he even have known what love felt like? He’d never had someone like you before, never met someone so kind and so fun. You were full of life, and you taught him things he would have never learned without you. And when you were around, he swore the sun shone a little brighter.

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

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.”

@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.

One Hell of a Bargain

Summary: Din Darin is a bounty hunter of souls and was tasked of bringing you in...well cold. Something happens where two make a bargain. Unbeknownst to the both of you, this bargain would have serious consequences, dragging you into Din's world deeper than you imagined

Warning: Slight Boba x Din, mentions of death and description of car crash victims, nsfw in further chapters 😘

Hello everyone, so I came up with this idea with @ahoeformando along with some sexy professor Boba stories. This is super AU so please be nice. This has been sitting in my draft folder for two days cause I was so nervous 😂. Let me know what you think!

“Din, I have a new job for you,” Boba purred as he stroked, Din’s hair. Why he decided to keep his messy locks was beyond him. Din groaned and buried his face in his chest, acting as if he didn’t hear him.

“Don’t I do enough keeping the foundlings at bay and training the new warriors?”

Boba laughed, “You do, but her highness has personally requested you for this hunt. She is worried you are getting rusty.”

“I’ll show her rusty,” he mumbled as he rolled over onto his back next to Boba, “Fine.”

“I should warn you that things have changed quite a bit since you were last up there,”

“It’s only been 75 years, how much could have really changed?”

“You’d be surprised. Somehow these mortals have become more advanced and even more efficient in getting themselves killed. You might learn a new thing or two.”

Din sat up, removing himself from Boba’s warmth. He lazily put his pants back on and buttoned up his shirt. Running his hand through his locks, he looked over to Boba. He looked slightly older than Din; not that age meant anything to them. His wide frame took over most of the bed that he had shared with him. He was currently, casually leaning against the headboard, the sheets thrown lazily at his waist which left little room for imagination.

“Aren’t you coming, too?”

“I am not needed, it is just you, little one.”

“For someone who is so well respected with our queen, you really are lazy.”

“It is because I am so respected that I can be lazy,” Boba teased, “If you stick around with me, maybe you too can be so lucky.”

Din chuckled as he bent down to Boba, “Why do you think I really keep coming to see you?” planting a soft kiss on his lips.

Boba lightly smacked him, but didn’t pull away, “Don’t push your luck to today, kid.”

Din planted one last kiss as he strolled out of Boba’s room, making his way to the main hall to meet with his boss.

*****

“Come on, it is just a little drive it’ll be fun.”

You looked up, nervously chewing your bottom limp. Your boyfriend, Steve, of just over a year nudged your shoulder, “You’ve seen him do it a ton of times. It is perfectly safe.”

You stared at both boys, Steve and Eric. Both in their early twenties, you had just turned 19 and had hit a slight rebellious streak. Your parents hadn’t initially approved of you dating so quickly outside of highschool but you kept up with your marks and extra activities that they deemed it ok.

“Fine, but only for like a minute and then we go get ice cream like you promised.” you playfully pouted as you crossed your arms.

Steve laughed as he ruffled your hair, "Deal,"

You walked over hesitantly to the car. Dawned in an obnoxious yellow, the Subaru logo was blacked out. The interior was stripped to the bare minimum.

"Less weight, easier to corner." Eric had explained to you. He was a rookie track driver and was finding any excuse to talk about his car.

You sighed as you opened the back door, sliding into the back seat and buckled your seat belt immediately.

The two boys sat in front as Eric started the engine. You winced when you heard the exhaust choking slightly, you grimaced when you smelt the fumes wafting in the backseat. Eric has clearly done most of the work himself. You gripped onto the edge of your sit as you all steered out of the parking lot.

It was late in the evening, past rush hour but due to it being a weekend, there were more cars than usual.

“Umm, can’t we just give this a try in an empty parking lot?” you asked nervously, gripping the door handle, not sure what it would do.

Eric grinned at you looking back in the rear view mirror, “Don’t worry, Doll. This is a super light night”

You stifled a scream as he hit a sharp corner, bumping your head slightly on the window.

“Pft, 40 miles, this corner can totally take more.” you heard Eric casually tell you.

You gripped the seat, knuckles turning white. You tried to keep you breathing calm as the car swerved in and out of traffic. The sound of car sirens being deafened by the blood rushing to your head. You noticed another car pulling up beside yours, the same loud roar and the same stupid stickers.

"About time, now the fun can start," cheered your boyfriend.

"What?! You said this was going to be short!"

"Man you were right Steve, she is too uptight. You need to get laid, doll." Eric retorted.

Fear was replaced by anger as you banged on the headrest that your boyfriend was leaning his head on.

"I want out. Now! This isn't fucking funny!" you screamed as the car downshifted and pulled around a corner hard, throwing you back onto the seat.

“Oh shit the cops!” you felt Eric slam on the breaks, hard and the car started to reverse, “I can’t get caught again man, they already have my license,”

“They have your what?!” you yelled, looking frantically for some reassurance from your boyfriend but clearly got none.

You covered your eyes as he started to drive against traffic, begging for them to stop, to let you out, to just let the cops arrest them. You heard the sharp slamming of breaks and loud honks from the other cars as they swerved out of the way.

“Yoh man! Look out, she isn’t moving. Go left, left!”

That was the last thing you heard before your mind went blank.

**********

Din walked down the dimly lit hall. The torches flickered and danced along the reflection of the tiles. It was quiet today, as Din heard the echo of his footsteps. Usually it was bustling with other Mandalorians but as Boba said, it had been busy.

Approaching the large oak doors, Din heard a ‘Come in’ before he could even reach his hand to knock.

Din opened the heavy doors as welcomed to a site of papers thrown everywhere, half finished bottles of some strong wine or another. In the middle of the room stood, his boss, queen whatever title she decided to give herself today. In a previous life she was known as the armourer and was in charge of her guild of other tradeswomen. She was donned in her deep rouge coloured armour and short fur cape.

“Ah, Din Djarin, I was wondering when you were going to grace me with your presence.” she did not look up from her table as she walked around, looking at one form or another.

“I was told you finally have work for me,”

“I’ve always had work for you.” she responded coldly, “You were just always too good for the job.”

Din leaned against the table, arms crossed over his breastplate, “Well I am here now.”

She sighed, discarding some more papers onto the floor, “As you can see, we have been busier than usual. These humans have been doing a bang up job at getting themselves killed. We are only able to train so many recruits to go up and collect them as possible but I wouldn’t have asked you here if you weren’t my last option.”

“I am honored,” Din remarked, paying attention to the creases in his leather gloves more than her.

“Will you just come over here so we can both be done with each other?”

Din turned around, staring at a large hologram that was being projected by the data pad that was under the stacks of papers. In front of Din was a police chase that seemed to involve some tacky looking vehicle.

“Happy to see they finally advanced to faster locomotives,who knows maybe they will even reach our level of technology.”

“Pay attention, this is your target.” she zoomed in on the three individuals in the car.

“The two idiots in the front? Piece of cake, they are pretty much asking for us.”

“No, the girl in the back.” she zoomed in on a young girl, barely out of her teens, gripping the seat. Din noticed that she was screaming, her face red with tears and anger. Din couldn’t hear what was being said but it was clear she didn’t want to be there.

“It should be a simple in and out, bring her back, I have Paz on the other two.”

“You sent Paz?”

“I told you, we are short.”

Din pushed away from the table, “Fine, I’ll go. I’ll be back before dinner.”

Without even a passing glance, Din walked out of the messy room and back into the quiet hallway.

*******

You groaned, opening your eyes slightly as the asphalt ground came into view. You had a dull ache in your head as you sat up, getting your bearings together. You don’t remember what happened after the first crunch of metal hit the car in front of you but you were surprised you were in better shape than you expected.

You stood up, trying to dust the dirt off your pants and by trying, you noticed you couldn’t feel the rough denim of your pants. You also noticed that you didn't feel the solid road beneath your feet but you were clearly still standing on it.

“Ok, calm down, this is probably normal. Like shock or something,” you spoke out loud to yourself.

You called out for Steve and Eric as you walked back towards the crash. How did you end up so far away? You must’ve flown out the window or something and probably had a lucky landing. As you approached the damaged car you got a view of the severity of the accident.

The car was an accordion slammed into an SUV and the back was a heap of mangled metal. The door was completely crushed inwards with no way out. There were other cars around you that were a little rough for ware but it seemed Eric’s car took most of the damage.

“There is someone else back here!” you turned your head to the voice and noticed paramedics and firefighters surrounding the scene.

“Hurry!”

“Hey,” you called out, as you approached the firefighter, “I am fine, there was no one else in the back.” he looked over you grabbing the jaws of life and proceeded to cut the metal.

“Hey! Take care of the others you are wasting your time.”

He continued to ignore you as he had his colleagues help rip off the sliced metal, pulling it away from the car.

“Hey come on! See I told...you.” Once the firemen were out of the way you were given a full view of the back of the car. There was indeed someone in the back, a girl, close to your age. She had her arms over her head but her side was bloodied and torn from the metal that was again her. You couldn’t get a good look at her face as her hair wet with blood was stuck to her cheek.

“Get her out, put her down slowly.”

“No pulse, get a medic!”

“H-hey you,” whispered to one of the firemen, “Is she going to be ok? She was wearing her seatbelt....that saves lives, right?”

“If you haven’t noticed by now they can’t hear you.”

You whipped your head to the voice that was behind you. Before you stood someone in some weird type of armour. Their helmet covered their face entirely and you were greeted with a black T where their eyes probably were. His cape, or what assumed was a cape was dancing strangely in the wind. Looking closer it looked more like smokey shadows than actual fabric.

“Why...why not?” you croaked, seemingly losing your voice all of a sudden.

The creature sighed, placing a very human gloved hand on their forehead, seemingly annoyed, “They did get dummer, that’s for sure.”

“Excuse me?”

“The girl lying on the ground is you, sweetheart.” the apparition had a deep voice but was also soothing in some creepy way.

“M-m-me? That’s impossible, I am here, so the girl over there,” you turned around to look at the girl again, “...is me.” You stared at yourself as the paramedics were doing chest compressions on you but clearly it was no “use.

“It is time to go, I want to be back before dinner,” at this point you had decided that this thing was male.

“Go where? I am not going anywhere.”

The figure let out a frustrated sigh, “Listen, you seem nice enough so don’t make me angry. You are gone, girl, and I am here to bring you to where you will end up.”

“And where is that?”

“You’ll know when you get there.”

“That isn't an answer.” you huffed, hugging your arms over your chest as your body shook, “Are you like some grim reaper or something?”

“You could say that, sure.”

“Where is your scythe?”

“I am obviously not the grim reaper.”

“Then what are you,”

He growled placing his hands on your shoulders, obviously very irritated.

You shivered from the touch, he was freezing, the last bit of light felt like it was draining from you. You could feel his frustration as it seemed like he was trying to consume and control you.

“That isn’t for you to worry about. You will be brought down to our Kingdom and you will be one of ours.”

“So...so I am going to hell?” your vision became blurry, you couldn’t feel the tears but you assumed they were falling. “What was it? Was it sneaking out at night? Trying that joint that one time? I didn’t mean to steal the candy from the corner store when I was six, I just wanted-”

“You aren’t going to hell. The things you silly humans have come up with, I swear.”

You stared at the figure before you, he was a head and a half taller than you, you tried to puff yourself out to not feel so small as you did now.

“Then I am not going,” you decided as you pushed his hands off of you. “You can’t make me,”

“Girl, you don’t want to know the things I can get you to do.”

“I have a name! And since you won’t tell me what I have done or what or who you are. I want to go home, thank you.”

He once again placed his hands on the front of his visor and ran them down his helmet with a groan, “You know you can’t go home. I told you, you are dead.”

“Well change it.”

“What?”

“Fix it. You clearly are some sort of soul thingy person, put me back.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I didn’t do anything-.”

“Anything wrong, yes yes. You think that is all we base you on? You are such simple creatures.

He paced around you and back and forth, clearly trying to wrap his head around what to tell you. He turned to look at you when he heard your sniffle, “W-whatever you want from me….you can have it later.”

“Excuse me?”

“You probably need my soul or something right? Just have it later....please.”

The creature actually laughed at the mere thought that you were trying to bargain with him. He had many reasons in the past, the way others would grovel offering riches, land, knowing very little what awaited them.

You straightened yourself up, “So we have a deal, you let me live and you can have whatever you want from me.”

“I really don’t think you know what you are asking-”

“I don’t care,” you argued, your eyes glaring daggers at him, “I don’t want to die and you can fix it, there has to be something.”

The creature approached you, towering over you, his cape slowly enveloping you and him. It felt oddly warm and relaxing. He looked up and you turned your head to notice there was another one like him walking away with two boys. You couldn’t make them out from this far away.

“Fuck it.” he sighed.

“What?”

“I will help you, this one time.” You smiled excitedly at him. If you weren’t so numb from the shock you probably were crazy enough to hug him.

“But,and this will be a big but, when the time comes, you will come with me.”

You nodded, your vision becoming blurry again. “You will have my soul or whatever.”

“Whatever I want, little one. You have just made a promise with someone that you definitely don’t want to break.”

“Thank you,” you murmured.

The creature sighed and started to walk away from you. You yelled out for him and he turned around.

“How do I um...how do I get back?”

He titled his head towards your direction, “Follow the light!”

“Haha very funny.” you turned around to where your body and there actually was a light glowing around the scene, “You’ve got to be kidding me,” as you ran towards it.

You didn’t notice that the man had stayed to watch you go. Why he gave in so easily to your pleading, this was supposed to be a simple job that he royally fucked up and already knew the paperwork involved.

“Well, fuck.”

*****Ten Years Later*****

You fumbled for the door handle and keys as you giggled at the man who clearly couldn’t keep your eyes off him. The alcohol had fogged your brain and you couldn’t exactly remember his name but he was fun and he was cute. You figured you could ask later.

“C’mon,” he murmured, kissing your neck and licking your ear messily causing you to giggle as you tripped into your apartment. Large text books were thrown across your small living room, empty take out containers lined the coffee table.

"Erm," you giggled sheepishly at the man before you. He clearly didn't care as he was already trying to get your shirt off and pushing you onto your couch. His kisses were messes as his lips reached yours. You inwardly grimaced at the grossness of it all, 'it is it ok,' you assured yourself 'I just need to get laid.'

He sat up to remove his shirt but before he went back to assault your poor lips, he stopped. You looked at his face, he had gone white, the hazy glow from the beers that night gone, you felt him tremble above you.

"Who, the fuck is that?"

"Who is what?" you leaned up and turned around and saw a tall figure with a T shape visor. Black shadows dancing around him.

"I believe you should be leaving." the figure said as he walked towards the two of you.

The guy shoved on you to jump off, knocking the wind from you, "What the fuck-" you groaned, trying to catch your breath. Without even grabbing his shoes or straightening himself up he was out of your apartment.

When you finally took in a deep breath you sat back up on your couch you were faced with the figure sitting on your coffee table. His helmet mere inches from you.

"Did you miss me?"

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