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pentechnics · 1 year

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Part 3: Assignment | Series Masterlist

Pairing: boss!Din Djarin x secretary!f reader

Rating: E, 18+ only

Chapter Content: office work environment, power dynamics, dom!Din, sexy phone times, hand kink, praise kink, vaginal fingering, nicknames/pet names, implied orgasm denial Please let me know if I missed anything!

Notes: As always I'm so sorry to make y'all wait, but I hope you feel as though it was worth it! I'm still so excited about this story and can't wait to continue it for us all. Please drop me a line to tell me what you thought -- there is nothing more motivating than hearing from you all! Sending love to you all!

~~~~

“Well, that’s a change of pace. You’ve never taken anyone with you.”

Din waved off the comment and returned his attention to the window beside Boba’s desk, which took up the entire wall and looked out to the bustling city below.

“Have you told her yet?”

“Our check-in is tomorrow. I’ll do it then.”

Boba hummed and wrote a note.

“Make sure you book those arrangements soon. The conference is in only a month.”

Din nodded.

“So what is it about this one? I’ve never seen you this…”

He paused to vaguely gesture at Din, making him turn back.

“... tolerable.”

Din sighed and shook his head.

“Oh, come on,” Boba pressed, a grin breaking out on his face. “She must be some kind of miracle worker.”

Oh, you could work miracles, all right. A memory of you on your knees flashed in Din’s mind: your eyes wide, mouth stuffed to the brim with his cock, curious hands clawing at his thighs.

Perfection. His fisted hand clenched tighter around the air.

“She’s good at her job,” he said through gritted teeth. “Has no problem keeping up, gets along with everyone-”

“So that you don’t have to,” Boba cut him off with a chuckle. Din couldn’t help the small grin creeping onto his face.

“Exactly.”

“Well, that’s good, then,” Boba turned back to his monitor. “She can help you actually network at this thing and get us some more diverse clients. We don’t want a repeat of what happened last time you went.”

“Fett, for the millionth time,” Din sat up in his chair. “That guy punched me first.”

Boba’s thunderous laughter bounced off the office walls.

~~~~

Dinner consumed and dishes put away, you slipped under the covers of your bed and let out a sigh.

Your muscles ached with exhaustion as they seeped into the plush comfort beneath them, the inevitable stress of the week finally showing itself. It was as though you were a puddle and the bed was a sponge, fully soaking you into its soft embrace. What you wouldn’t give for a back rub.

You turned on your laptop and clicked onto some mindless television, setting it down beside you and letting the dialogue fill your brain with its static. You took a deep breath and sunk down against the headboard, attempting to regain some of the energy the day had drained out of you.

The harsh vibrations of your phone had other plans.

You jumped at the sudden noise, a tingle of surprise emanating from your heart, and reached over to grab it from your nightstand with a grunt.

An unknown number illuminated your screen. Damn telemarketers. Why in the world would they even be making phone calls at this time of night? You plopped it back onto the nightstand with a bit more force than necessary and tried once more to get comfortable.

Moments later another vibration sounded, this time from a text.

You sat up again and looked over at your phone, apprehensive. Telemarketers didn’t typically text, especially when a phone call was ignored. If that wasn’t who called you, who the hell could it have been?

You slowly unlocked your phone and opened the message feed, your eyes bulging out when you saw the singular gray bubble with the short – yet powerful – text:

Pick up, Cupcake.

The number called again. Your phone buzzed away in your hand while your mind flooded with questions. You’d never given anyone at work your personal number, how did Mr. Djarin get it? And why would he call you so late at night?

With a shaky breath, you pressed ‘accept.’

“... Hello?”

“Surprise.”

You let out a little laugh as his deep, modulated voice sent a shiver through you.

“How’d you get my number?”

“Yeah… I may or may not have snuck a peek at your file. Don’t tell HR.”

That got a more genuine laugh out of you. You propped yourself onto your elbows and readjusted the phone against your ear.

“I should get to look at your file, then,” you said. “It’s only fair.”

“Be my guest. Nothing exciting in there, anyway.”

Something about his tone sounded off. It was slightly strained and gruff, as if he were holding something heavy. “So…” you started, unsure of how to proceed. “What made you want to call me?”

“Well… I wanted you to know something.”

“Something that couldn’t wait until morning?”

“Exactly.”

A shaky exhale made its way to your ears. Your confusion only grew.

“What are you doing over there? You sound like you’re working out or something.”

“Ah… Let’s go with ‘or something,’” he chuckled. “Care to take another guess?”

You shook your head. What was going on? What kind of game was he trying to play?

“Um…” you trailed off, your mind going blank.

“Let’s just say I can’t stop thinking about that pretty mouth of yours.”

Your jaw dropped. Your thighs clenched together as more of his breathy sighs caressed your ear.

He… he was touching himself. To the thought of you.

Once the initial shock of it dissipated, a more sinister instinct began to boil within you. You smirked into the receiver while more labored breathing reached your ears.

“Is that so?” you asked, putting extra texture onto your voice.

“Wish you could see the proof.”

“Convince me, then. Let me hear it.”

“Filthy little thing.” he rasped. “Lay down and join me, and I just might.”

Your eyes rolled back, your body immediately flipping over and sinking down into a lying position.

“You’re lucky I was already in bed,” you said with a smile, your hand already grazing down your chest.

He hummed. It was like sweet honey, making you let out a small gasp as your body filled with warmth.

“You ready, sweetheart? You’re gonna do exactly as I say.”

“Fuck, yes,” you breathed, slick already beginning to collect between your legs.

“Good. Grab one of those tits for me.”

You did as he said, wrapping your hand as far around it as you could and gently kneading the flesh with your fingers. You sighed and let yourself get lost in the feeling, the vague memory of his hand cupping them flashing through your mind.

“They’re so perfect,” he mumbled, “Need more time with them. Keep going, Cupcake.”

You bit your lip and picked up the pace, humming into the phone.

“Aw, are you wishing you could touch them?”

“Watch it, Princess,” he hissed. “You won’t get more with that attitude.”

Something about the prospect of him denying your pleasure turned you on all the more. A small whimper escaped your lips, making him snicker.

“Rub that nipple.”

You moved your finger up and slowly caressed the little nub, already hard and sensitive. You threw your head back and moaned as each stroke of it sent a jolt straight to your core.

“Just like that,” he groaned. “Bet you’re already soaking for me.”

He was right. You could feel the pooling between your legs, no doubt soiling your panties.

“Put me on speaker, honey. Want both hands on your tits. Now.”

You let out a little hum and did as he said, setting the phone down beside your pillow and gripping yourself with both hands.

“Atta girl,” he cooed. “So good at listening.”

His praise only served to make you wetter. You teased and flicked at your nipples, relishing in each ripple of pleasure that cascaded through you.

“Lower now, touch those thighs for me.”

Your hands snaked down the length of your torso, gently dragging your nails against your skin on their way, until you reached your thighs.

“Claw at them.”

You did. Shivers erupted through your nerves, making your back arch.

“Oh my god,” you breathed.

“Yeah? Feeling good?”

“So good,” you smiled. “I need more.”

“Beg for it, then.”

More curses spilled from your lips while your hands continued to massage the skin of your thighs, slowly moving further in and up.

“Please, sir,” you whined, not a single ounce of shame behind it. “Please give me more.”

“That’s my girl,” you could hear the grin in his voice. “Go on. Rub that clit for me.”

The relief and pleasure that threatened to drown you as your fingers finally made contact had you moaning out loud.

“Fuck, you make such pretty sounds, Cupcake-” he cut himself off with deep noises of his own. “Get louder for me. Rub it faster.”

As if his voice was the sole conductor of your actions, your body sang at its demand, crying out as your fingers worked themselves ragged. The wave was beginning to build below your belly, releasing a firm heat that wrapped around you like a snake and squeezed until your limbs began to flail.

“Yes, fuck, just like that. Don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” you shouted, back arching. “Fuck fuck fuck-”

“Aw,” his tone was almost condescending. “Is it already too much for you, baby? You missing my hands? Poor thing.”

His words had you gushing, despite the small bead of annoyance sprouting within you.

“Now you need to fucking watch it,” you said through your heavy breathing. “I could just hang up on you.”

“Hehe, come on,” he cooed, “Don’t you wanna cum?”

Your breath hitched.

“I can tell you’re close, baby. Let me get you there.”

You let out a grunt of frustration. He was right – even if you did hang up, you already had a taste of what it was like for him to be in control. You had never reached such a high on your own; just the once and you were already addicted to him.

“Stop rubbing.”

“What?”

“Now.”

Your fingers paused. You heaved breath after breath, your racing heart threatening to burst from your chest. Like you were forced to hold in a sneeze, your body was teetering on the edge.

“Why?” your voice cracked. “I was so close-”

“I said this already, sweetheart, you’re not gonna get anywhere with that attitude. Now stick those fingers inside, nice and slow.”

The combination of your body’s needs with your brain’s annoyance was deadly; you were clawing at the bed with your free hand, your breath coming in heaves as the other followed his command. You were coating the bed with your slick at this point, evident by the cold, damp patch coming into contact with your thigh.

You sighed. Your fingers were so small compared to his, only able to go so deep and stretch so far. But you weren’t about to tell him that.

“That’s it,” he rasped, voice growing less stable. “Faster.”

You increased your speed, moan after moan spilling from your lips. The tension in your belly grew, blooming to life and making your whole body curl in. Sweat began to break out on your forehead.

“Din,” you started, “Please, I can’t-”

You gasped and stopped in your tracks. You hadn’t meant to use his name. The silence that followed was tortuous; part of you was worried he would be angry, maybe even hang up on you. Would he actually do that, you asked yourself. It was hard to say.

You were about to break the painful lull with an apology when you heard a feral moan rip from his throat.

“Say my name again, baby. Say it while you’re rubbing that fucking clit.”

You whimpered as you returned your attention to your clit, now in need of restimulating.

Luckily, his encouragement was even more intense than before and had your high returning in no time. You bit down hard on your lip as each of his shaky gasps and harsh commands sent a shiver down your spine.

“Din,” you breathed.

“Yes.”

“Din.”

“Fuck, just like that-”

“Din, it’s coming,” you all but yelled.

“YES, do it, Cupcake, fucking cum for me.”

His voice was almost animalistic, his growling demand being the final straw that sent you careening into a supernova of an orgasm: loud, explosive, all-encompassing. Your throat felt more hoarse with each shout of pleasure he dragged out of you.

He wasn’t too far behind, labored grunts turning into deep, symphonic moans that you were sure would be the end of you. They ricocheted through your ears, filtered through the phone which made them somehow sound even sexier.

You thought back to that day in the office to picture how he might be looking while he came: the scrunched up eyes with his head thrown back, slacked jaw, and bounce of his chest with heavy panting.

Simply beautiful. You wished you could see him now.

You squirmed as the last remnants of your orgasm petered out, his breathing calming down with yours. He released a throaty chuckle.

“Such a good girl.”

Oh.

Shit.

Oh, shit.

Every inch of you froze, your breath catching in your throat. A fresh wave of slick poured out of you as you slowly turned your head to face the phone. Your ears tingled, your fingers gripping anything they could reach. It was like someone had poured ice down your back then dunked you into a hot tub. Your mind felt fuzzy as it replayed those two words over and over.

You wanted– no, needed to hear them again.

“W-... what was that?”

“Hm? Did you like it?”

You bit down a ‘yes.’ Part of you didn’t want to admit it yet your body began to writhe in protest, the itch now present in your brain begging to be scratched, like a pesky bug bite you were meant to leave alone.

But temptation won you over in the end.

“... Maybe.”

He chortled. You could hear the snarky smirk within it, and scowled in response.

“Ask nicely, and maybe I’ll say it again.”

You humphed and fully turned to lie on your side.

“Meanie.”

“Well, now you’re not being very good, are you?”

“Oh, hush,” you said through a giggle. “I’ve just never… heard that before.”

Talking this much during sex was something only one past partner of yours had been into. He was the first one to actually use dirty talk towards you, though it was leagues milder compared to anything Din had been saying.

“No one’s told you that?”

He sounded surprised, almost upset. You chewed on your lip in lieu of answering, unsure of how to proceed.

“Did you want them to?”

You gave a quiet hum, your nerves still unwilling to let you admit to it out loud. Evidently, that was enough for him.

“Well,” he started, voice deliciously low and cloaked in silk, “I guess we have lost time to make up for…”

Your brows perked upward as you waited for him to go on.

“... Because you’ve been a Very. Good. Girl.”

The way he accentuated the last three words – gravely, dry, blissfully slow – would’ve made your knees buckle if you were standing. You couldn’t help whimpering as your head hit the pillow once more, your body drowning in a rush of adrenaline and cool pleasure.

You were a withering leaf clinging to the branch with all you had, and Mr. Djarin’s husky, slightly staticy voice through the phone was the gust of wind that sent you floating down to the ground.

Your breathy ‘fuck’ was muffled by the pillow, but made him hum nonetheless.

~~~~

Din was typing up an email when your soft knocking reached his ears. Your grinning face made multiple waves of sensation pulse through him: excitement, desire, curiosity.

And something else. Something… gentler. It made him let out a sigh, like he was relaxing for the first time that day.

“Ready for our check-in?” you asked, pad and pen in hand.

Din nodded and waved you in. He finished up his email as you shut the door and took a seat. He let out a breath as he folded his arms before him, taking in your visage.

“How’s your day going?”

“Good,” you said, brows quirking up. “And yours?”

He shrugged.

“Better now.”

Watching your eyes widen and your lips disappear made his throat dry out. He drummed his fingers on his desk, willing his eyes to move up from your cute little mouth to no avail. Damn, he wanted to bite it.

“So,” he cleared his throat and glanced at the paper beside his keyboard. “I only have a few things to discuss with you today.”

In his scribbly writing, he’d written a few small, almost illegible bullet points. He squinted at the paper in an attempt to make out the words.

“First thing, have we heard back about the Sanderson account?”

You nodded and shuffled through your own notes, reciting them to him. Ever impressed at your ability to stay so organized, Din hung onto every word, the soft inflection of your voice like a sweet kiss to his ears.

He couldn’t help the divergence of his thoughts: picturing your delicate words rising in pitch at the beck of his hand, forming pants and words of pleading instead of contractual details and concerns, moans of pleasure in place of last steps before getting a signature. He imagined your active mouth wrapping around his cock once more, which was now twitching in his pants at the very idea.

“... so I scheduled a meeting with them next week to finalize.”

“Perfect, thank you,” he gave you a nod.

You flipped through your notes once more to discuss the other tentative contracts of the month, each move of your lips capturing Din’s full attention. He hardly dared to look away, even as he took his own notes.

You spoke of your work with a fluidity he’d only known himself to have. From the get-go it had thrown him off; you always had exact answers to his questions, knew every aspect of each account, and on occasion even gave some insight into improving a deal. It was magical to see.

This meeting was no exception. When he dove into the nitty gritty details you followed with no hesitation, ready to meet any and all inquiry he might have. He almost didn’t want the work talk to end – he didn’t remember a time where he actually enjoyed discussing such boring things.

But regardless, the final topic was sure to be the best one of the day.

“Last item on the agenda,” he began, learning forward onto his desk. “There’s a little… assignment coming up next month. And I’d like for you to come with me.”

“Assignment?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.

“A conference, actually. In Croatia.”

“Croatia?!” you sat up so fast, Din worried you’d fall out of the chair.

He chuckled and gave you the details of the trip: five days total, with three of them spent at the conference, during which Din would give a talk and in general try to increase the company’s clientele overseas. Your job would be to manage his calendar and keep track of things, as always, but also to help him make those connections.

“Wait,” you started, brow scrunching up in thought. “If you’ve gone to this conference before, how come you haven’t already secured some foreign clients?”

With a sigh, Din leaned back in his chair. He told the story of what happened last time he went, of overhearing a verbal confrontation and getting hit in an attempt to break it up.

“It really wasn’t as big a scene as it seems. Some people just can’t handle being wrong. And apparently I’m not much of a ‘people person,’ meaning I wasn’t nice about telling him the hard truth.” Din said with a shrug, sass dripping from his tone.

Your giggle set his soul aflame.

“Well, don’t worry, Mr. Djarin,” you started, “I’ll make sure you don’t get yourself banned or injured.”

“So you’re on board?”

“Of course. No reason not to be. Plus, Croatia’s on my travel list.”

“Is it now?”

Din rested his chin into his palm, his other hand drumming on the desk. You nodded, a gentle grin pulling your cheeks up.

“Where else do you want to go?”

Your eyes lit up as you fully leaned into the tangent, mentioning multiple countries, including Greece, Morocco, and South Korea, among others.

“That’s a pretty nice list,” Din said.

“Yeah,” you laughed, “There’s a lot I want to see.”

“Well then, all the more reason to bring you along. Gotta start checking those off.”

Your smile could brighten the night sky. Your expression was so warm, so innocently golden, it had Din’s heart cartwheeling in his chest. It made him want to learn more about you, give you anything you wanted — as long as he’d get to see that again.

He gulped.

These sensations… It was as though he were being forced to breathe concrete instead of oxygen. Thick and heavy, it made his lungs sting.

No one else had ever inspired anything like this from his heart. Yet here you were, doing it with just a smile. His breath quickened the more he dwelled on it; what did it mean? What was he supposed to do about it?

He sat up in his chair and refocused on the topic at hand, trying with all his might to ignore the sudden clamminess of his palms.

~~~~

One month later, you were packing your suitcase in the evening glow of your room’s desk lamp.

You were to be jetting off with Mr. Djarin directly after the following workday, and you couldn’t help the slight jitteriness of your movements.

All month long he had been bringing up this trip, but besides the team-wide meetings about it, business seemed to be the furthest thing from his mind.

Yes, every now and then he’d talk you through his presentation or give you information about other companies that would be there, but more than anything, he was a constant tease.

Any chance he got he would wind and unwind your every nerve with a few mere words or touches of his hand, velvet promises of what was to come dripping from his lips at each turn. The past week had been the most brutal; he’d build you up and up at his desk, or in the supply closet, or even in the kitchen when the rest of your coworkers had already left for the night.

He’d do as little as whisper in your ear or as much as rub your clit through your panties – all while his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow because he knew, he knew how much you liked that – but not once did he finish the job. Nor did he grace your ears with your favorite words.

You’d shriek into the empty space and plead for it, clawing at his arms and shoulders, tugging at his tie, staring into his golden brown eyes with desperation as they grinned back at you with satisfaction. He’d shake his head and grab hold of the back of your neck, forcing your squirming form to still at his command.

‘Oh, don’t worry, I know exactly what you want. But the next time you cum will be right before I fuck you, Cupcake. Not. A moment. Sooner. Is that understood?’

The memory alone was enough to make you quiver and nod to no one. The phantom touch of his hands crawled up and down your body, making your muscles fall slack and reduce to liquid. You groaned and flopped over your clothes. What the hell, Mr. Djarin.

But even though you were sexually frustrated beyond belief, to his credit, he was right there with you; he didn’t let you finish him off a single time. He didn’t let you call him Din. He didn’t even let you touch his cock without at least his briefs to separate your skin from his. Ah, to see him in a crumbled state such as your own, how sweet it would be. You stole a glance at the new panties you bought specifically for this trip; he’d get his penance for making you wait this long.

You wondered what he was doing right then as you recovered your composure and shoved a sweater into your suitcase with more force than was necessary. Was he also packing? Or was he pacing around, impatient with his own waiting game? Maybe something else entirely?

Now that you thought about it, you had no idea what that man did for fun. Who he was outside of that office. You’d been working for him for eight months, and even though you’d seen some of the most intimate sides of him, there was so much about him as a person that you just didn’t know.

It seemed like he knew a lot about you. As you thought through the few casual conversations you shared with him, a noticeable pattern of him turning topics towards you began to make itself more apparent. Your travel list. Your favorite sweets. And most recently while making the travel arrangements, your preferred airplane seat. Why didn’t he talk more about himself?

With a breath you stuffed a dress into the suitcase, making a mental promise to use this prime opportunity to peel back a layer or two from the mystery that was Din Djarin.

****

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #boss!au #modern au #corporal

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