#could I have picked an easier angle for Din's face? yes. would it have felt like failure? absolutely | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forever-rogue · 3 years

Text

Douse the Lights

A/N: I have no excuse for this, except I love one (1) Din Djarin and he deserves this and so do we. Enjoy! A little Happy New Year gift from me to you! As always, comments and feedback are welcomed! xx

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: SMUT (18+ only) - oral (m and f receiving), unprotected PiV, choking, degradation, creampie...filth. This is just filth.

STUTTER SOMETHING PROFOUND (PART 2)

THE MANDALORIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then stop kriffing staring at me.”

“I wasn’t even looking in your direction.”

“You,” with a sharp turn of your head you saw that he wasn’t even near you. Nope. Not at all.

Kriff. Awkward.

“Lothcat got your tongue, Princess?” you’d never seen his face, but Maker, you just knew there was a wicked smirk on it.

“Just mind your own business,” stowing away your clean blasters with a huff, you prayed with all your might that he couldn’t see the flush of warmth on your face or hear the crack in your voice. You hated him. Everything about him.

At least you wanted to; you would have given anything in the galaxy to. It would make constantly being around the Mandalorian that you called your employer a lot easier.

Maybe if you kept repeating it yourself, you would manifest it to become true. That you could hate that annoying, half-witted, tin can.

“Thought that’s what I was doing,” there was the most minute inkling of amusement in his voice as he came over, lithe and silent - ever the hunter. He was at your side in an instant, the warmth of his body contrasting sharply with the cool metal of the beskar as he sent shivers up and down your spine. Along with the low pooling of heat and desire settling in your belly, but you were going to ignore that for now.

Almost as if he knew the effect he had on you, he made it a point to brush a gloved hand over yours as he nudged you to the side to inspect some of the weapons he’d tasked you with cleaning. You had to be quick in order to shut your mouth and keep a small whimper from escaping your lips.

How long had it been since someone last touched you? Maker, it had been….dank farrik. It had been way too long. A simple hand brush - there wasn’t even skin to skin contact - and you felt like a lothcat in heat. You really needed to get...some company and have your frustrations taken out or surely you would explode. There was no way you were to give Mando the satisfaction of knowing the type of hold he seemed to possess over you.

Perhaps once you were out of this more than awkward conversation you could slip out for a few hours and seek some pleasure. The little one had just gone down for a nap a short bit ago, and he was likely to be out for some time. Surely he wouldn’t have a problem for a few hours. Then you could -

“These are still dirty,” was his voice always that rough and low? He had to be doing it on purpose, surely. Before you could contemplate it too much, he took one of the blasters and shoved it back into your hands. Not rough or gentle, but with enough firmness to remind that he was in charge. You looked it over and raised your eyebrows as you inspected it yourself - it was polished to an almost pristine shine, “clean them again. All of them.”

“What the fuck, Mando,” you scoffed with indignation as you rolled your eyes at him, shoving the blaster right into of the black T of his visor. You waved it almost as if to prove your point, “this is clean. I dare you to find a cleaner blaster in this Maker forsaken galaxy.”

He was quick to your grab your wrist, his grip was firm as he kept your hand from moving. You didn’t normally argue with your stoic and mysterious employer, but this was apparently new and uncharted territory. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but there was a shift between the two of you, something had changed. The tension in the air was palpable, so thick you could cut it with the dullest of knives as you stared back at him.

“Clean it again,” it was a growl that went straight to your cunt as you subconsciously clenched your thighs at the sound. Either this was a one time deal that you would commit to memory or you were going to make it a point to annoy him more often. As he stared you down, he slowly let go of your wrist and pointed at the discarded cleaning rag, “and make sure its actually clean this time.”

“You are the worst,” you tried to retain the little bit of composure that you had remaining as you swiped the blaster back.

“And you are a brat,” brat. Brat. Brat. Brat. Of all the words available in all of the galaxy, he had to choose that one. This was absolutely on purpose. The Mandalorian never did anything without careful planning and calculating the risks. The same could be said with his words; this was all carefully and deliberately chosen. He cocked his head to the side, almost as if trying to gauge your reaction, “but here we are. Get them clean.”

“Or what?” it was a mere pathetic squeak as found yourself almost unable to meet his face.

“Just get it done.”

Without another word he strode away, as silent and dangerous as he was when he first came in. If you were stronger, if you weren’t a weak little fool, you would have looked away and focused on your work.

But no. Not today.

Instead you watched him go, staring shamelessly at his imposing figure as he moved to disappear back into the cockpit to do whatever it was that he did.

Was his ass always that nice? Were those thighs always so strong and sturdy? Was he always so damn broad and wide?

Shit.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” you hissed at yourself as you picked the rag back up and slammed yourself back down on the bench in order to re-clean all the weapons that you had just done. He wanted clean weapons? You’d give him the cleanest blasters he’d ever seen.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Almost an hour had crept by when you’d finished your second round of cleaning. At this point you honestly didn’t care if the Mandalorian deemed the job satisfactory or not. The longer you had ruminated on his words, the more frustrated you became.

Each word, each touch seemed burned into your mind as you let your imagination take over. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about him before. There had been a number of sleepless nights when you imagined it had been his hand between your thighs, his fingers running through your slick folds before they slipped inside of you. On nights when you really couldn't help yourself, you even imagined it was his cock, how he would feel buried to the hilt inside of you. You wondered what he would be like, but something - this day in particular - told that he was big. And he would get the job done.

But it wasn’t going to happen.

Nope. No. Nah. You were just his sidekick little employee that most definitely was not going to act on any impulsive or rash decisions. You might have been a lot of things, including a huge fool in that moment, but you weren’t that stupid. You didn’t need to create some unnecessary strain in your relationship with the stoic warrior or even worse, lose your job and home and be left stranded in a forgotten corner of the galaxy.

Even as you tried to rationalize all the ways in which acting on your impulses was a horrible idea, the frustration and the throbbing between your legs didn't wane. You were getting so desperate and pathetically needy that you sat on the edge of your small bench just at the angle so you could get a little bit of friction on your clit. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

As you rocked back and forth, trying to keep the little mewls and whines from slipping past your lips, you realized you couldn't do this.

You couldn't risk getting caught by the Mandalorian. Oh yes, everything's fine, just getting myself off. Don't worry, I'm super horny because of you. Yeah of course I'd love your cock.

Yeah. Cool, cool, cool. This would never happen.

Just when you before you reached your breaking point and had your hands halfway to your soaked core, you stopped.

"Kriff," you sighed to yourself as you pulled your hand back out and stood up. What the actual fuck had gotten into you? A few commanding words you were completely losing your control. Either you were desperate for a release from something other than your own hand or you craved the mysterious Mandalorian.

Hastily stashing the impeccably clean blasters back into the weapons cache, you discarded the rag as you quickly came up with a plan.

Tiptoeing quietly back to where the little one was sleeping, you sneaked a peek and saw that he was still fast asleep. He wouldn't even notice you were gone - that's what you tried to convince yourself as you delicately touched his soft ears and button nose.

You weren't sure if you were speaking of the Mandalorian or the baby. At this point you really didn't care.

You glanced back at the ladder towards the cockpit, watching almost as if you expected him to come down and catch you sneaking out. Hells, technically he'd know as soon as you left the ship. You scrawled a quick note telling him that you needed a cleaner or something, in your haste you couldn't even remember what you put, and would need to go to the market.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. That was totally plausible, you insisted to calm your own nerves as you slipped on your boots and a cloak before making your final decision to leave. Attempting to be as quiet and subtle as possible, you slowly made your way off the Crest and started scurrying towards the nearby desolate town of Mos Eisley. In reality you looked more like a scrap rat scurrying away from the light than a woman heading into town to find something.

Whatever.

Mos Eisley wasn’t exactly known for its sparkling reputation, and you were sure you could get exactly what you wanted quickly enough. In and out, you thought to yourself as a flush rose in your check, well precisely that. For at least you were hoping.

But the Mandalorian, a seasoned hunter with a reputation for a reason, and didn’t miss a single trick. He was aware of what you were doing before you even left the cargo hold. If he was this frustrated and turned on you by you, his cock hard and straining against the confines of his pants, he was sure you must have been in the same position.

Oh, but he had been close to breaking, just like you. How easy it would have been to seal the hatch to the cockpit and relieve himself of the desire and ache. But no - just like you he had limits and wasn’t about to give in and stroke his hard cock while you were within earshot. No matter times he had imagined it - fucking your mouth or burying himself deep between your luscious heat before pounding you into oblivion, he wasn’t going to give in this easily.

He wasn’t a virgin by any means, but with your little backtalk and the way you had looked at him with those wide doe eyes and pretty pouted lips sure had him feeling like one. The thought of burying himself inside you, to watch as you bounced on his cock with your tits in his face was enough to make up his mind.

One time couldn’t hurt, right? People had casual encounters all the time.Why should this one be any different? If you were willing of course, although judging by how your pupils had dilated with each word from his mouth, had little doubt you felt the same way; but consent of course was key.

And tomorrow? You’d be back to being the same way you had always been.

Hopefully. Maybe. Probably.

Fuck.

This was a bad idea, and the small, sensible part remaining in his brain told him so. But he was too far in, too deep and lost in his own desires to stop himself.

He was watched as you ran away, deciding to wait until you were halfway to Mos Eisley before going after you. He’d take the kid to Pelli, sure she’d more than happy to watch him for the night. The rest? That was to be all consumed by you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The old cantina was dirty, dingy, and smelly. There was no doubt in your mind it must have been at least a decade since it was cleaned, and yet it still remained a hot spot; granted not for those of politer society, but enough to get the job down. You pushed that to the back of your mind as you clambered through the crowd and to the bar, sitting down next to a handsome Zabrak you had spied when you’d walked in. You’d never been with one his kind before, but you’d heard rumors of them, especially when it came to their prowess behind closed doors, and something within you was piqued.

He must have sensed something was up - as soon as you sat down, he motioned for the bartender to come back and bring the two of you a new round.

“You’re new here,” he said gruffly, a dangerous edge to his voice, sharp like a knife as he took one of the luminescent drinks and shoved the other towards you.

Before you could even move to grab your drink or utter so much as a word in response, a hand darted and quickly grabbed your wrist, the grip biting and firm.

“She’s mine,” the words washed over you before you could even turn to look at the Mandalorian. His chest was rising and falling heavy as his visor was trained on your would be companion for the night. A shudder ran up your spine as he pulled you off the stool, the two men glaring at each wordlessly.

He pulled you behind him, storming out of the cantina as the crowds parted at the sight of the gleaming silver beskar. They knew better than to stand in the way of the Mandalorian. You felt like a child being scolded as he refused to acknowledge you, keeping his gaze trained straight as you struggled to keep up with his long strides.

“What the hell, Mando?” your question was an indignant shout as your voice climbed an octave. His grip didn’t waver for a moment as he grunted in his response. Oh, he was mad. Yup. Definitely. You had fucked up.

Any thought of talking back or prodding him further were estopped as you could see him fuming as he dragged your ass back to the Crest.

This was it, you realized. This was the end where he would fire you and send you packing. Of all the places in the galaxy to be stranded, Tatooine was not one of your top destinations. No one to blame but yourself, you reckoned.

Instead you hung your head as he refused to look back, making quick work of opening the cargo hold and shoving you inside. There was something about his touch that was rough, almost sending you falling to your ass, but there was still an odd gentleness.

You stared back at the blank visor in challenge, attempting to figure out what was going on. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he stared back at you. Neither of you were about to get a good read on each other.

“Did you really think it was a good idea to just walk away without saying anything?” his voice was dangerously low as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at you. You opened and closed your mouth a few times as you tried to come up with either a smart response or an excuse but instead of anything coherent, it was a mixture of the two. Great. Now he's going to think you were an idiot on top of everything else.

“I didn’t...just um...doesn’t matter what you...I needed something from the market?” you swallowed the lump on your throat as you dropped your gaze to the floor. He sighed for a moment - heavily - as you’d come to know was his penchant to do.

“You needed something from the market?” it wasn’t a question so much as an accusation.

“Mhmm.”

“What was it?”

“C-cleaner,” you lied. Somehow it sounded better than saying yeah, I really just wanted a quick fuck because you have me feeling some type of way.

“There's a new cleaner right in the cabinet,” he said as you internally groaned. He was right - there was a brand new gleaming bottle on the top shelf. He’d gotten some last week, “or did you conveniently forget that?”

“Umm,” you couldn’t get anything else out as he took a step closer and left minimal distance between your bodies. He reached up and put a hand under your chin, turning your face up to meet his, “uh huh.”

“Uh huh, honey,” his voice warmed you up from inside out as you gave him an innocent look. If he hadn’t known what he was doing earlier, he certainly did now. And he was going to milk every second of it, to push this as far as it would go. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, a subconscious gesture, but not unnoticed by the Mandalorian. His hand slipped from your chin and jaw and slid until he was gently holding your throat. His grip was light, and he was barely squeezing, but Maker, you wished he was, “is that really what you were going to do?”

“Y-yeah,” how much longer were you going to keep up this little facade? You had no clue. But the feel of his hand around your airway, pushing slightly, ever so slightly, had your mind positively reeling.

“Then why did you go to that filthy old cantina?” he leaned closer, his helmet mere inches from your face as you closed your eyes, the blood rushing to your ears as you the heat pooled in your belly, “why were you talking to Zabrak? Did you really think he was going to fuck you? To make you feel good?”

“Mhmm,” you managed to murmur after a few beats of silence as you realized what was happening. This was new, uncharted territory - for the both of you - and if you went any further, there would be no going back. And you - fuck it. Your eyes snapped open as you turned to look into the visor, right where his eyes would be, “needed someone to do it, since you never would.”

And there it was - finally out in the open and hanging thickly between the two of you. All you could ever was a small huff from under the helmet and you were positive he was smirking like a victorious predator.

“Is that what you want, honey?” he asked and you nodded. Give and take and then...it all broke, “get on your knees. Now.”

And you wasted no time sinking onto the cool metal floor, now level with his cock, where you could see the hardness straining against his rough fabric. Shaky fingers worked to hastily pop the button and pull the zipper, but just before you could get to what you wanted, Din roughly grabbed jaw, turning your face up to his, “you take what I give. Yeah?”

“Yes,” you promised, feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with each word. But then, with another gentle tap to your chin, he seemed almost...gentle, “Mando?”

“If you don’t want this, just say stop,” he waited for you to nod as you a sense of warmth fluttered over you at his desire for consent, “I will not be gentle, I will not-”

“Give it to me then,” you beamed at him before turning back to his cock and pulling out of his underwear. You almost moaned at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking already; and just as your little fantasies had led you to believe, he was more than adequate.

Spitting into your palm, you took him in your hand, pumping him a few times before licking the head, just small light licks, just enough to tease. Licking a stripe up his shaft, you played with his balls for a moment, earning what you were sure was a small groan from under the helmet. Making it a point to draw it out, you shouldn’t have been surprised when his hand went to the back of your head as he pushed you onto his cock.

A sound of surprise was muffled by his cock as you took all of him into your mouth, doing your best not to gag as he hit the back of your throat and your nose brushed against the soft curls of hair at his base. Your hands slid up his thighs and found purchase on his hips as he began to fuck your mouth. He started slowly at first, almost as if he was afraid to give too much. When you grew accustomed to him, making it a point to hollow your cheeks and suck him as best as you could, he picked up the pace. And it was brutal in all the best ways, spit was starting to run down your chin along with a few tears that had spilled over, but if nothing else, it worked to spur him on.

“Look at you,” he grunted between thrusts as he took in the sight in front of him, “take me so well. Knew your big mouth had to be good for something. Always wanted to fuck that pretty face.”

You hummed in delight as you raked your nails over the exposed slivers of his skin on his hips, golden and delicious and you wanted it all. His thrusts slowly become more erratic and sloppy as he twitched in your mouth. His hand dropped from the back of your head as you took over and put a hand back on his shaft as you worked to finish him off.

Soon enough he did, followed by an almost primal growl as he came, his hot, thick, cum coating your mouth and you eagerly swallowed all that he offered, which unsurprisingly, was a lot. As his breathing slowed down and he slowly came down from the rush of his high, you pulled back from him, looking up at him with innocent eyes and a wicked smile. You cleaned him off, but just as you went to wipe at your mouth, his gloved hand was faster and he collected the spit and cum that had spilled out and pushed it back into your mouth with two fingers. You grabbed his wrist and made a show of sucking his fingers clean, tasting him along with the worn leather of his gloves.

“Good girl,” he praised before hoisting you to your feet, “strip.”

“What about you?” you turned your head to the side, but he shook his head in response. He paused for a moment, almost as if he was having second thoughts, but just quickly, he whipped off his gloves and tossed them onto the floor before putting a hand on your cheek and stroking it tenderly. You swallowed thickly before nodding and working to pull off your clothes.

First was your shirt, tugging slowly over your chest and tossed down to join the gloves. Your arm went to your back as you tugged off your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders as an almost nervous breath escaped your lips.

“Keep going,” he commanded, eyes trained slowly on you as he drank in the sight of you. You undid your own zipper and pulled your pants and panties down in one fluid motion before kicking them off along with your boots and socks. You’d never felt more vulnerable or exposed in that moment, wanting to cover up but also relishing in the fact that you seemed to have rendered the Mandalorian speechless. He looked you up down, not bothering to hide the fact as he looked at your form, glancing at your soft mound before your breasts and then landing back on your face.

Beckoning for you to come closer with a simple crook of his fingers, you did so, standing directly in front of him. His hand flitted from your cheek and down your body before resting at the apex of your thighs. You gasped lightly in surprise as he dragged his fingers through your soaked folds, coating them in your copious arousal, before chuckling darkly. A hand immediately went to his shoulder as you steadied yourself and tried not to completely lose it at the simple touch, “all of this for me, honey?”

“Mhmm,” you admitted as he gently rubbed over your clit, teasingly in the slowest, most tantalizing way possible. Before you could stop yourself you blurted out, “always think about you. Always get so wet.”

He made a small, noncommittal sound as he pulled his fingers away from your wetness and brought them to your lips. He tapped your bottom lip and you opened your mouth, sucked his fingers clean from your own arousal, “I’ve thought about fucking you too. That mouth, that pussy. You’re such a brat, but you drive me crazy.”

“I like when you get mad,” you said as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, “‘s sexy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice deeper and lower than ever before, and you felt your knees start to buckle at the sheer sex it exuded, He brought his large, warm hands to your tits, touching over your pebbled nipples as you bit back a moan. While you wished it his mouth on them instead, this touch was just as well, as he massaged them, trying to get a good feel of them and seeing what drew out those sweet mewls from you. But before you could enjoy it too much, one hand gripped your waist like a vice and the other went between your legs. He ran his thick fingers through your folds, before slowly inserting one into your wet heat. You moaned as he slowly inserted another and then a third, stuffing you full and already having you seeing stars in no time, “make yourself cum.”

“What?” your eyes snapped open as he stilled his actions, “you’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” he popped the p loudly as he lightly teased your clit, eyes boring into yours, “you act like a brat and you want to cum? You have to work for it.”

“You can’t be serious,” you groaned as he moved to pull his hand away, as if to show you just how serious he was. This time, you caught his wrist and held him in place. He chuckled lightly in triumph as one of your hands returned to his shoulder for balance and the other went to play with your sensitive bundle of nerves. He held completely still, a practiced and patient man, as he made you work for it. He wasn’t kidding by any means when he said he would not be gentle.

He remained quiet, watching your pretty face shift through a range of expressions as you worked to reach your own high. He was glad for the helmet, for if you had been watching him, you’d have seen the tinge of pink rising in his cheeks as the sight of you fucking yourself on his fingers. He’d envisioned this many times, no doubt about that, but he’d never thought it would become a reality. Maker, you were gorgeous as you thrust onto his hand using him for your own pleasure a string of gentle filth spilled from your lips as you rubbed slow circles onto your clit.

“Mandooo,” it was soft as you felt that familiar blinding haze start to take over you, and your toes involuntarily curled and your cunt started to clench around his fingers. Your eyes fluttered closed in pleasure as your vision turned blurry and that familiar warmth started to spread all over your limbs. He felt his cock twitch from where he had tucked himself back in after you’d pleasured him. Before you could finish though, something different met your ears.

“Din,” he said as bit your lip in order to keep from crying out completely, “my name is Din.”

And there it was. Completely unexpected and out of the blue. It wasn’t just a name - no it was so much more than it. It was a sign of trust, of closeness, of the fact that whatever this little situation was, it was neither the first or only time something like this would happen. No, your story with Mando may have come to an abrupt end, but your relationship with Din was just beginning.

It was almost as his name, uttered softly and almost unsurely, was exactly what you needed to push you over the edge as you came around his fingers. A soft moan left your lips along with the sweetest sound he was sure he’d ever heard, “Din.”

A merciful man when he chose to be, he took over for you and worked you through your orgasm as you almost collapsed into his arms, “there you are pretty girl. You did so well, fucking yourself on my fingers.”

“Not enough,” you rested your against the soft cowl of his neck as he pulled his hand from you, but not before slapping your ass a few times, almost as if testing to see how far he could push you. You made a few sounds of delight at the sting, only spurring him on as he slapped and then gently needed the ample flesh of your backside, “please, need you to fuck me.”

“Is that what you need, pretty girl?” he purred in your ear as he pulled back and grabbed your face in his hands, taking in the already blissed out expression on your features, “you want me to fuck you? Think you’re ready for my cock?”

“Yes,” you were practically ready to beg at this point, “I’ve been wanting it for so long.”

At your words, he almost dragged you to the small bed that was reserved for you in the corner and motioned for you to sit. You watched with eager eyes as he scrambled for the waistband of his pants and hastily pulled them down and kicked them off, letting them join your discarded clothes. He practically ripped off the rest of the beskar until he was bared in front of you, save for the helmet. His cock was already painfully hard again, standing at attention and leaking fat drops of precum.

“Can I trust you?” he asked as you nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. You’d never questioned the fact that you’d never seen his face or that he apparently just never showed it to anyone. You respected him and his decisions, and you’d never dare to push the envelope or destroy his trust.

“Always,” you promised as he walked over to the wall and hit the switch for lights, cloaking the room in darkness. You sucked in a breath before you heard him shuffling about and the beskar helmet clanged against the metal floor. He stood in front of you, you could feel his breathing as he touched your cheek before wrapping a hand around your throat.

“Hands and knees,” he instructed with a delicious rasp, made even better by the lack of filtering from the vocoder of his helmet, “now.”

The singular word was enough to send a fresh rush of arousal through your veins, as you laid on your belly on the small cot before positioning yourself so your ass was in the air. He shuffled behind you, his large hands grazing over the soft flesh of your ass. He spread your cheeks apart before dragging a thick finger through your soaked folds. A small sound of pleasure rippled through your throat as you clutched onto the thin, scratchy blanket of the bed, “please.”

“Quiet,” it was harsh and biting as the palm of his hand slapped your ass, the sting delicious and leaving you wanting more, “you like that, don’t you? You like being spanked, pretty girl.”

“Only by y-y-you,” before you could say anything, he slapped your ass a few more times before kneading the soft flesh to make sure the sting wasn’t too painful.

Mando - no, Din - shifted his weight and you could feel him line himself up at your entrance. He ran the tip of his cock through your folds. A moan escaped your lips - and his - as he slowly pushed into you, giving you a brief moment to adjust to his considerable size. The stretch was amazing, the slight burn quickly turned into pleasure and you felt full, so completely full. He groaned as he bottomed out, already feeling pussy dumb by the way your velvet walls hugged him, “this - kriff - this pussy is perfect. Just like it was made for me.”

“Din,” you buried your face in your pillow as he pulled out, slowly, before thrusting sharply back into you. He was not lying when he said that he would not be gentle. His large, warm hands went to your hips as he held them in a bruising grip. You were sure you’d bear his marks for days.

He set a bruising pace, thrusting into you with no mercy as he slammed his hips into yours. There was nothing gentle or intimate about, no - this was months and months of pent up frustration and desire coming out all at once. Din was not a talkative man, but as he fucked you into oblivion, he was whispering strings of filth and praise into your ears. All you could do was lie there as he pounded into you, so lost in your own pleasure as you became a whining mess under him.

Before he came, his arms snaked around your waist as he pulled you flush against his chest. One large hand went to play with your breasts as the other went to your clit as he rubbed and circled at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your mouth hung open in a blissful haze as he kept going, pressing kisses into the soft skin of your skin and shoulder, alternating between nipping and sucking and making sure to leave plenty of marks so everyone knew you were his.

“Look at you, pretty girl,” he grunted in your ear, “taking my cock so well. You love this don’t you? Getting used like this.”

“Mhmm,” you bit your lip as he kept going, kept abusing your spent pussy as he started to stutter in his thrusts, “‘m so close, please, wanna come.”

“You’re going to come on my cock,” he commanded as you nodded, “and I’m going to fill you up and make sure you know who you belong to.”

“I’m yours,” you insisted as you felt your walls clench around him and his cock start to twitch, “only yours.”

“Good girl,” he praised as he turned your head to place a rough kiss on your lips. It was the sheer act of the moment and feel of his stubble that sent you over the edge and cumming all over him. You were like jello in his arms as he held you up, giving you a few more thrusts before spilling inside and coating your walls with his cum, “ahh - fuck - so fucking good. Maker, you feel like no other. Perfect pussy - just for me.”

He held you tightly against his body as he caught his breath, the two of you breathing in sync. You thought he might pull away immediately, but instead, he pressed more kisses, chaste compared to your previous actions, down your back as he slowly lowered you onto the bed. You couldn’t even form words as you laid there, cockdumb and already feeling his arousal along with your own dripping onto your thigh.

“You did good,” he praised gently before reaching between your legs and scooping up some of his cum that had started dripping out. You whimpered at the touch, still sensitive, and listened as he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, “but I’m not done with you yet.”

Din gently flipped you onto your back so you were lying face up and exposed to him. He sat between your legs and slowly spread them apart, admiring his handy work. He leaned back before climbing off the small and getting on his knees, pulling you towards his face. Just as you had gotten on your knees for him, he kneeled only for you.

“Din,” you sighed contentedly as he kissed along your inner thighs, working his way back to your dripping heat. He nuzzled his nose against you, taking a moment to take it all in, “already so much."

"Come on, honey," his voice was like liquid gold as he reached up and touched your breasts, cupping them easily in his large hands, "you've got another one in you. I know you do. Aren't you a good girl?"

"Mhmm," you arched into his touch as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. How this infuriating man got you to become a pile of mush in his hands you'd never know, but you definitely weren't going to question it. He leaned up and kissed your hips before burying his face between your legs, "I'm your good girl."

And with those words, he licked a long stripe up your soaked folds, still soaked from your combined juices. His nose, which you presumed was aquiline in nature, nudged your clit as he ate you like a starving man. You were the shining prize, glimmering in the distance, and he was the wrecked man crossing the desert to get to you.

This time you didn't even bother to hold back as you mewled and cried, tears of pleasure and overstimulation welling up at the corners of your eyes and sliding down your cheeks. Din hummed in content as he licked and suckled at you, making sure to focus on your clit as you came completely undone.

Reaching down, you carded a hand through his locks - curls - as you pressed his face against your aching core. You could practically feel him smirking against you as he slipped a few fingers inside to join his ministrations. Expertly curling his thick fingers, he quickly found the sweet spot that made your toes curls and you see stars.

"Almost there," he grinned as he gave you a moment of reprieve before diving right back in, "I can feel that perfect cunt squeezing around me. Taste so good, pretty girl."

"D-Din," his name falling from your tongue was like pure magic as he became transfixed by how it sounded. Your mouth dropped open in a small O as your legs shook around him. He pulled his fingers from you as he held down your hips in order to keep you from squirming away from him, "feelssogood - makerohstars - Dindindin."

"Come all over my face, pretty girl," his tongue darted into you for a few moments before he gave your clit a harsh suckle. That was all it took before you came again, screwing your eyes shut as he worked your through your orgasm, lapping up every bit of your juices, refusing to waste even a drop, "there you are - taste so fucking good. Perfect."

He was relentless until he was sure you were completely done and a practical ragdoll on the bed. Slowly, he pulled back from you, trailing light kisses up your body, stopping when he got your face. Almost as if he was able to see even in the almost complete darkness, he wiped away your remaining tears. He hesitated for a moment for leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You sighed softly as you rolled onto your side and scooted closer to the wall, making room for him.

It was a big thing you were doing, boundaries had been crossed and blurred and any rules you'd previously had were thrown out the window. Neither of you were sure what came next.

But you did know that you didn't want him to leave - not yet anyway.

"Din?" you asked softly as he pulled the blanket over your spent body; he was surprisingly gentle for a man that had just sent you to heaven and hell and back.

"Yes, pretty girl?"

"Will you stay?" your voice was small as you prepared yourself for defeat and for him to leave.

"Yes," he whispered softly as he slid in under the blanket and next to you, "I'd like that."

"Me too," you admitted as he shifted and pulled you in his arms so you could lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump thump of his heart, "Din?"

“Hmm?”

"I'm in charge next time," you smirked lightly as you kissed his soft skin. He inhaled sharply but you could tell he was into it. The man might have just been in charge, but you had a feeling he might like being told what to do as well - and you were going to find out, "I want to ride you."

"Kriff," he groaned under his breath, "You're going to be the death of me, little brat."

"I'll make it worth your while," you promised with a small yawn, "I'll have you crying in no time - begging me for mercy."

“Mhmm.”

“You’re going to be a good boy for me, right?” it was your turn to put your hand on his throat and give it a gentle, but firm squeeze as he stiffened at the feeling, “I know you’re a good boy, Din.”

“Fuck.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #din djarin x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #ahhhhh #shes here!

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magpie-to-the-morning · 3 years

Text

On Fire from Within

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.8k

Tags: Self-Indulgent, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, the helmet comes off, Blindfolds, Sex Pollen, Dirty talk, Mostly in Mando’a, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, PiV Sex, Din is soft and a mess, and so am I, so much Mando'a because I cannot be stopped, Please let me know if I missed anything

Summary: Reader is a newish crew member on the Razor Crest. She was helping out on a bounty hunting mission when she got hit with a laced dart at a shady brothel. It's a sex pollen fic lads, you know how this goes!

Read on Ao3

“Fuck,” you swore softly, pulling a small barb from the back of your neck. It’s only a little thing, a geometric pattern of angles and sharp points. Odd for a piece of shrapnel, but surely nothing to worry about. The small wound wouldn’t be worth the Bacta gel. You tossed it away before walking up the ramp into the Crest.

“Everything ok?” Mando stepped away from the controls of the carbonite chamber. You hadn’t realized he was so close, and startled when you heard the question crackling through his modulator.

“Yeah, it’s nothing. That bastard frozen yet?”

“Just about.”

“Good. That place made me want to scrub the inside of my skin.” You’d just finished helping Mando drag a bounty out of a local bar running an illegal “pleasure house.” It certainly hadn’t deserved the name, and you were more than happy to provide an initial distraction so Mando could come in for the kill. (The metaphorical kill, sadly. You would have been happy to leave the owner of that awful establishment a smoking crater on the floor of his bar, but apparently that was “not following the brief” and “wouldn’t bring in as much money for fuel.” Pfft). There had been a little static on the way out, and you assume that’s when you’d picked up that bit of metal. “I’m going to hit the refresher, unless you need it first?”

The bounty hunter shook his head and moved towards the ramp. “No. I’m going to trade in the puck and get us out off this rock. You go ahead.”

You checked the controls of the shower. Again. You’re sweating, and as much as you try, you can’t get the water cold enough to soothe your burning skin. You arch your back, moaning when the stretching movement sends a dart of pleasure straight to your aching cunt. Fuck, why are you such a mess all of a sudden? You slip a hand between your legs and are shocked to discover that you are already dripping wet. You rub the back of your neck and it hits you- that wasn’t shrapnel. It must have been a dart laced with something, and knowing the type of place you were in, you’d bet any amount of credits it was a nasty aphrodisiac. “Those bastards…”

You drag your hands through your hair and take a steadying breath. Ok, you can handle this, pull yourself together… Nice empty ship and a hot shower. Nothing you haven’t done before. You let your hands drift lower, massaging your breast and tweaking an already pert nipple. You’re already so close…

An hour later and you’re sobbing from want. Why can’t you just. Fucking. Come already? You’ve tried everything, every fantasy, every technique or touch, and nothing. You try again, stroking your clit and spiraling towards release before it slips away again, a jolt of pain rebounding through you. “Damn it!”

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You freeze. You hadn’t realized how much time had passed, of course Mando is back. What had he heard? “Um, nothing, it’s fine!” You wince at how falsely this rings, even to you.

There’s a pause. “Open the door.”

“… no? I’m not-“

“Open the door. Or I will break it down.”

Shit. You have a second to grab a towel before the door clangs open. Mando is through the door and into the tiny room in an instant, hand on his blaster. He checks all the corners which, takes about 2 seconds, before turning that implacable, visored gaze on you. “What’s going on with you?”

“Jeez, Mando, I-“ you try to bluff your way out of it for a moment before giving it up for lost. Even if you could explain away everything else, you know your flushed cheeks and glassy eyes will give you away. “Fine, just, promise you won’t laugh?”

“Is something funny?”

“No, it really isn’t.” You sigh. “So, I didn’t realize until we got back to the ship, but someone back at that hole in the wall hit me with some kind of dart. I think it was drugged.”

“Show me.”

“I chucked it just before I got on board, but this is where it hit.” You pull your wet hair back to show him the mark on your neck. Mando crosses the floor in one step, and you feel one of his gloved hands steady your shoulder as he takes a closer look. That small touch is enough to drive you wild, and you bite back a groan, leaning into his touch.

“Dank ferrik.” Mando pulls his hands away like he’s been burned, and your cheeks flame again, this time in embarrassment. “There are red marks at the injection site. I’ve, uh.. I’ve seen this before.”

You grit your teeth, finding it easier to talk about when you’re not looking at him. “It hurts, Mando and I can’t make it stop. How long am I going to feel like this?”

“Until it runs its course. Usually, a few hours. And it will get worse.”

You swear again, tears of frustration slipping down your cheeks. Mando stands there for a moment, flexing his hands and looking unsure of what to say. Finally, you hear a deep breath and, “let me help you.”

You startle, sure you’ve heard him wrong. It’s only been a few months since you signed on as his only crew member, a live-in mechanic and occasional extra pair of hands for certain bounties. You’d thought about it, of course. At first you’d seen this as just another short term gig. Some light repair work, the odd stint of standing lookout or patching up his wounds or acting as a distraction for a tricky bounty. The longer you spent with him though, the longer you started to see the man beneath the armor, his dark humor, his unexpected kindness, his tendency to throw himself into harm’s way for the sake of a code you can’t begin to understand. Stars, and that voice… but you knew he would never return those feelings. The idea of him offering himself to you now, out of pity or worse, obligation…

“No.” You move to shoulder past him.

He grabs your wrist. “Look, Y/N, I know I may not be your first choice but-“

You whirl around to glare at him. “Not my- damn it, Mando!” You kick the waste bin in sheer frustration. “I’ve wanted you for weeks and just because I don’t want you to feel cornered into sleeping with me you have the fucking gall-“

“Close your eyes.”

You blink in confusion. “Wait, what?”

“Do it. Now.” You shiver at the steel in his voice and comply without another thought.

There’s a soft hiss, and the clang of metal set down on metal. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t… You start in surprise, feeling his leather-clad fingers cup your face and tip your chin up. “Are you sure you want this?”

You laugh, a little shakily, amazed to hear how deep and rough his unmodulated voice still is. “Are you?”

The next thing you know, he’s got you backed up against that wall. You gasp, reaching to pull him closer. His mouth slides over yours, lips warm and surprisingly plush. You deepen the kiss and moan, needing so much more. He responds by reaching down, pulling you up to straddle his waist. Trapped between the wall and a cage of Beskar, you’ve never felt freer. You card your fingers through his hair, marveling at the curls under your hands. Mando gasps, already sounding ragged. “How do you want me?”

You drag your nails down his scalp and lick your way up the column of his throat. You taste salt and pant into his ear, “in the cockpit chair.”

Mando groans. “You have been thinking about this, haven’t you, sweet girl?”

“Less talk. More chair sex.”

He huffs a laugh against your neck and pulls you from the wall, carrying you through the ship like you don’t weigh a thing. You make it through the corridor, with only a few brief stops against walls and doorways. Mando sets you down once you reach the cockpit and you whine at the lack of his touch, but still keep your eyes closed. He kisses your forehead. “Patience, sweet girl.” You give up the last shreds of your dignity and moan, rubbing your thighs together. “Can’t, I need you to touch me now.” You hear a few soft clinks, and realize Mando is removing his armor, piece by piece. Not wanting to be outdone, you toss your towel aside. Your eyes are still shut tight, but you add a hand to cover them, afraid you’ll forget yourself. You may not understand his beliefs, but you are damn sure going to respect them, even now.

There’s startle at a ripping sound, and Mando asking “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Good. Keep your eyes closed.” Mando pulls your hand away, pressing a kiss to your palm before knotting a blindfold around your eyes. You feel yourself pulled down to his lap. You twine your arms around his neck and lower yourself until you’re straddling his hips, grinding as close to him as you can.

“Tell me what you need.”

“Touch me.”

He’s eager to comply, and you shiver as you feel his hands (his hands, not the gloves, stars) skim up your sides. Mando cups the back of your head, drawing you closer as he kisses and licks his way into your mouth. You immediately open your lips to his, stroking his tongue with your own, teasing the roof of his mouth to egg him on. You’re rewarded with a small groan, and Mando palming your left breast. He strokes your nipple with his thumb, rolling and pinching it to make you arch your back. “What else?”

“Maker, that’s so good… talk to me, Mando, don’t stop touching me.”

“Never, mesh’la.” Mando rolls his hips and makes you squirm against him. You can feel his arousal, pressed so close to your own, separated only by the canvas of his trousers. You mewl and buck your hips against him.

“Oh gods, yes…”

Mando chuckles as your breath speeds up. “You’re so gorgeous, Y/N, going to take such good care of you. Going to make this so good for you.”

He bends his head and sucks one of your nipples into his warm mouth, and you nearly black out. The sheer relief of such a touch when you need it so badly nearly undoes you completely. “Mando…”

“Din.” The word is muffled against your chest, and you have to ask “what?”

He rests his forehead against shoulder. “My name, Din Djarin.”

“Din,” you taste the short name, adding it to what you’ve learned about this man. This capable, dangerous, surprisingly gentle Mandalorian. How can such a hard man be so… This train of thought is interrupted as another wave of desire bowls you over, making you shudder with need and pain. “I need more, Din, please…”

You don’t even need to finish that thought before you feel his rough, calloused fingers drifting down your belly and lower, lower… You lean back to give him easier access, his other arm coming to rest around your waist, holding you up. You gasp when he strokes your folds. “Me’bana? You’re so wet, mesh’la. Is this all for me?” He doesn’t wait for a response before slowly fucking two of his fingers deep inside you, dragging the pads over your G-spot over and over. He’s a quick learner, adapting to touch you harder or softer, quicker or slower, as you gasp and buck your hips. “So good for me, so wet and ready. Do you want me to make you come?”

“Yes, yes, please Din, I’m so close…” you whine.

Din rubs your clit while fucking his fingers into you. He bites down on your earlobe, whispering, “Then come for me, cyare.”

You do. You cry out as you feel yourself coming apart under his hands, your hips thrashing despite you as you moan and call out his name. When you drift back to yourself, you’re grateful for his supporting hold as waves of pleasure continue to roll through you. Din strokes you through all of it, only backing off when your breathing slows and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You exhale slowly, taking stock after that release. “That was… whew…” Now that you have a moment to think clearly again, you can feel your mind spinning up to overthink this. Will you ever be able to look at your employer (partner? friend?) again? Not that you can ever look him in the eye anyway, but what if he’s completely disgusted with you after this? Your racing thoughts pause when you hear what can only be Din sucking your slick from his fingers.

“Maker, you taste as good as I hoped you would.” Thoughts: gone. Brain: empty. There can’t be any room for overthinking when your head is suddenly full of HE THOUGHT ABOUT TASTING ME?! “How do you feel?”

You force yourself to consider this. You can already feel the fire in your core roaring back to life. “Good, but, I can already feel it ramping back up.” You blush. “Not that I didn’t… I totally did, but.. sorry…”

“Shh, k’uur. I get it. Just relax and let me take care of you.” He stands up, depositing you gently in his seat. You only have a moment to wonder at this sudden shift before feeling him kneel down in front of you. Without even thinking about it, you let your legs fall open to him. “That’s it, sweet girl, let me see that pretty pussy.”

If you weren’t already positive you were running a fever, that would have tipped you over the edge. Din runs his hands up your thighs, his breath ghosting over your throbbing core. “Ibac’ner. Ni copaanir dinuir gar ner lalat akay gar jair.” Is he… praying? You’re past the point of caring, all you want is for him to stop sucking marks into your inner thigh and finally move to where you need him most. You nearly scream when he drags his tongue up your slit. He flattens his tongue against you, humming appreciatively as your roll your hips. He wraps his arms around your thighs suddenly, jerking you closer towards him. “Jatisyc, ni larayc teh gar.”

You are glad of the blindfold because you are so far beyond controlling your face. Din’s tongue feels like it is everywhere at once, tonguing your cunt like it was your mouth one second, then laving your clit the next. You curl your toes and howl when he sucks your clit into his mouth and you feel the barest hint of teeth around you. “So close, so close” you chant, reaching down to hold his head right where you need it.

Din releases your clit, licking circles around it instead. “You liked that, didn’t you cyare? Do you like it a little rough?”

You shudder, thrilled to have been caught out so soon. “Gods, yes.”

Din chuckles and you hope you haven’t slipped up by confessing quite so enthusiastically. “Oh this is going to be fun. I am going to ruin you, mesh’la.” He dives back into your pussy, licking and sucking and nipping at your thighs like a wild thing. You whine and arch your back.

“Hold. Still.” Din’s arm clamps over your waist like an iron bar. “How am I supposed to finish you off, if you won’t stop writhing around, you etyc dala?” When you push your luck, trying to squirm free, you feel a sharp slap to your thigh. “Are you going to be a good girl and let me make you come? Or should I leave you here by yourself?”

“No, please, I’ll be good for you I promise!”

“Damn right you will,” he snarls. Without warning, Din shoves two fingers into your cunt and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking hard. You come in a rush, screaming his name.

You’ve barely come down from that high before chasing your next. While your first orgasm left you with some temporary relief, this one only stokes the fire even higher. You seize Din’s face from where he was resting his cheek against your thigh and pull him to your mouth. Reticence is a distant memory and you devour the taste of yourself from his mouth. When Din leans back and groans from this spectacle, you palm his length, spear-straight and hard as Beskar under your hand. Din shudders underneath you, and you can almost see the effort of restraining himself. You trace the shell of his ear and murmur “Why are you still wearing pants?”

Din rushes to his feet, pulling you from the chair and pushing you up against the nearest wall in one smooth motion. He holds you in place with one arm across your breastbone, panting with effort. “Hang on, I don’t want to rush you.“

You wish you could look at him, to show you the burning desire in your eyes, how much you truly want this. Alas. You settle for dropping to your knees and fumbling blindly with the fastenings of his trousers.

“Dank ferrik…” a muttered oath somewhere above your head. Din reaches down to help you, drawing his cock out. Once again, you wish the blindfold wasn’t necessary. You can feel the velvet-soft skin of him, trace the head of his cock and stroke up and down the length of him, but you wish you could see him. You breathe over him and, holding his shaft to help guide you (and madden him), lick just under the tip of his cock. You run your tongue around the ridge and lick your lips before taking him as far down your throat as you can. Din hisses and unleashes a stream of Basic and that same tongue he’d been speaking earlier. “Fuck… ori jate, ori jate, yes, Y/N. Parer, ke’pare, ah!”

You hum around him, loving the sound of him absolutely losing it. “Too much?” you ask, all innocence.

Din actually growls. “Yes. Don’t stop, please.”

You smile, hoping he can see you amidst his unraveling. You bob your lips over the head of his cock, once, twice, before sliding down the length of him as far as you can take. Din’s fingers tangle in your hair and you can feel him jerking his hips, holding back from fucking your face like he clearly wants to. You pull back again, letting go of his cock with a wet pop. “Don’t hold back, baby, I want all of you.”

This is more than Din can stand. He hauls you roughly to your feet, kissing you with abandon. “Say that again?”

“I want you Din, please. I fucking need you.”

Din grabs one of your legs and holds it over his hip. He teases your entrance while you beg him, rubbing against your folds. You moan in relief when he finally thrusts home, stretching you and dragging against your walls. You rake your nails down his back, biting at his shoulder. “Gods, yes, that’s so fucking good. Don’t hold back. Unh, yes, yes, yes…” He is pounding into you now, setting a brutally quick pace- just like you need. You try to kiss him but you’re getting sloppy and your kiss is more just dragging your open mouth along his jaw, panting as he fucks you. “Din, I’m so close…”

“That’s good, you’re so good at taking this cock aren’t you, mesh’la? Me'copaani? Do you want me to tell you how I’ve fantasized about fucking you over the console almost since you came on board? Do you want to hear how good it feels to be buried in your cunt, with your tight pussy around me? Because it is good, Y/N, and I am going to fucking destroy you.”

You scream his name. “Gods, Din, I’m gonna come!”

He seizes you by the throat, not hard enough to cut off your air but more than enough to let you know who is in charge now. “I want to feel you come on my cock. Come on, cyare, give it to me. Come. Now.”

It’s the full on bounty hunter voice command that slams you over the edge. You come hard, shaking in Din’s arms and soaking his cock. You absolutely would have fallen without him holding you up. He fucks you through it all, and as the aftershocks roll through you, you realize the screaming urgency has finally quieted. You can just about remember talking him through his own release before slipping below the cool depths of unconsciousness.

—

“Y/N? Here, drink this.”

You blink awake and feel a cold glass pressed into your hand. You take a sip. The icy water grounds you, and you take stock of your surroundings. You’re curled up in the captain’s seat, warm under a slightly tattered woolen blanket, or maybe a cloak? It takes you a moment before you realize what else is different. You can see again. “Din?”

“I’m here.” His voice is distant, slightly fuzzed. You look around, seeing him once again hidden beneath the helmet. “How do you feel?”

You’re still restless, like some distant part of you needs to get up and run or fight or fuck, but your limbs are feeling a bit heavier now and it’s easier to breathe. “Better.” You lift the glass again, drinking the rest of the water like you’ve never tasted anything so sweet.

Din lays his hand on your cheek, and you’re relieved to find that at least this bit of him has not been covered up again. “You’re still running a temperature but it feels like it’s easing up.” He takes the empty glass from you, setting it aside before taking your hand and drawing you up. “Come on, let’s get you to your bunk.”

You rise, unsteady on your legs after several rounds of fairly vigorous sex. Din steadies your elbow, guiding you out of the cockpit. “Sick of me already?” You’re aiming for a light tone but you know you missed the mark.

Din turns you to face him and studies you for a moment. “Yeah. Probably going to drop you off on the next planet we hit.”

You narrow your eyes at him, looking at your own skeptical face in the reflection of his visor. “Oh yeah?”

He presses his forehead to yours, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “No, ner kar’ta.” You couldn’t tell before, but now you’re almost sure he’s smiling. “I think you’re stuck with me for awhile.”

_________________________________

Mando'a Translations mesh'la beautiful

Ibac’ner. Ni copaanir dinuir gar ner lalat akay gar jair. This is mine. Going to give you my tongue until you scream.

Jatisyc, ni larayc teh gar. Delicious, I (am) drunk from you.

Etyc dala dirty girl

Ori jate so good

Parer wait

Ke'pare wait (emphatic)

Me'copaani? What's this?

Ner kar’ta My heart

#Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin x Female Reader #Din Djarin x F!Reader #More reformatting reblogs not new content #May change the banner later too #I'm not as wild about this one #Din Djarin #x reader #Fic #My fic #The Mandalorian #Mandoa

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raindrenchedstories · 7 years

Text

Brave little knight. 3

All was quiet. Archibald was presumably asleep, and Neil was just finishing his lever system. THIS should work. It had been a few days now, since his capture. Every day was spent trying to escape. When he wasn’t doing that, Neil was sitting through strange lessons.

Archibald would sit him down, and have him identify different creatures out of a book. Their strengths, weaknesses, ecology, biology, everything. Rather, he’d repeat what Archibald told him they were. Most of those lessons were Archibald sitting and reading out loud to him. As Neil couldn’t read or write on his own. Most of the time he just spent looking at the pictures.

Neil began pulling hard on the lever. The glass from his cage began to slide open, allowing him the ability to slip outside. The fall spell came in handy here, as he stepped off the edge of the floor into the abyss. Landing again on his rear. “Owww. Fucking giant.”

As it turned out, the landing was pretty much a result of the spell. No matter what, if falling from a great height, Neil would land on his ass. Unless it was a dire matter. Archibald made no excuse for this, admitting fully that he’d thought it was adorable.

“Anyway. It shouldn’t hurt too much. In comparison. You still have incentive NOT to fall from high places.”

“Ass hole.” He grumbled, trying to make his way for the first air vent he could feasibly reach.

“You rang?” Neil flinched, head swivelling every which way. Eyes darting in opposite directions, where was the fucker? “Is that healthy?”

Neil groaned, holding his hands up in surrender. He couldn’t out run the giant. Couldn’t avoid capture. At this point, it was just easier to give up and try again later. From the shadows, a hand descended upon him, lifting him carefully.

“Flops. You have to work a little harder. What if it were a manticore instead of me?” He was transferred to an open palm.

“I wouldn’t have seen it anyway. They attack from behind in order to get a fatal bite and snap the spinal cord.” He grumbled automatically. Archibald nodded once then sat down with Neil at the table.

“Well, at least you’re learning.”

“What’s this all about anyhow? You keep telling me you’ll release me. That it’ll be fine. That you’re helping me. But how does any of THIS help me?” Neil attempted to squirm free now, trying to reach the table top.

Archibald was silent, taking hold of Neils hands with some difficulty and lifting him. The man yelped and began to pick up his struggles. The titan just stared for a moment, no emotion behind his gaze. In the dim light of the room, all one could really make out were those golden eyes.

“HEY! Hey come on! This isn’t comfortable you know!?” Neil twisted at odd angles, trying to wriggle free. Archibalds free hand rose in front of him, and pinched lightly at his middle. He was then set back on the table.

“Well... First off. You’ve picked up some weight. That should help. Second, you should know enough by now, to avoid being eaten by something bigger than you.” The giant slowly placed a glass over Neil. Standing once more and turning to the cupboards.

Eventually he set a small pile of kibble down on a napkin, sitting in front of Neil and releasing him. “I don’t expect you to take much longer. I think we’ll change up your studies tomorrow.”

“Joy...” Neil snatched up one of the dry flakes, and grimaced. He could hear the small snicker from the giant as he took a begrudging nibble.

“Gods. I think next time I’ll invest in cookware and ingredients.” Neil spat a bit, glaring at the giant.

“NEXT TIME?!” He stood up waving the kibble at Archibald. “There won’t be a next time!”

Archibald leaned back, folding his arms. A brow quirked upwards. “Oh~ There will. You will see me again, after I release you. And a few more times after that. I’m not going to put so much work into this, then let you go and die.” He reached for Neil once more, and the man tried to bolt.

He didn’t get far, as Archibalds finger bowled him over, lightly rubbing from his head to his back. Affirming who was in charge.

“Any how. I’m tired. You’re probably tired. I think we should sleep.” Neil was scooped into a loose hand and returned to his cage. This time the glass was sealed in with stone facets. Neil would not be removing them easily.

Giving the glass a few good kicks, before storming off, Neil gave no thought to the change in his ‘studies’. No point in worrying. He couldn’t change anything. His sword was taken day one. Giving him no form of retaliation.

Best way to pass his free time was to attempt escape. Even though he was constantly told he’d be freed. He didn’t truly believe Archibald. Especially now.

The next morning he woke to a clattering by his blanket nest. Startling him from his sleep. He pressed against the wall, grimacing. Slowly eyeing the surprise wake up call. There, glinting in the soft light of the cave, was a sword. A new sword.

Sturdy, with a fresh leather bound handle. The hilt had small etchings in it. Overall however, it was visually unimpressive. Nothing like the sleek, gilded blades the elves used. Nothing like the knights, had in the picture books Neil so cherished as a child.

The only thing that stood out, was the surface of the blade itself. It shimmered with an odd, sun spun sort of glow. Just flickering in and out of existence once in a while. Almost like Archibalds constant glare. “Well?”

Neil jolted once more, staring wide eyed at the giant gazing down at him. Neil just stared back, bewildered. “Well, pick it up. The sooner you learn to handle that thing. The sooner you get what you want.”

“You’re trusting me with this?” Neils hand hovered over the hilt, trying his best to make out signs of a trap.

“Yes. You notice that shimmer?” Neil nodded. “Good. That’s a bit of magic woven into the blade. It won’t cut anything that hasn’t earned it...Barring survival needs.”

“Again. YOU’RE trusting me with this?” He folded his arms, glaring at the giant.

“Just take the damn sword. Or I swear, I’ll stick you in a pink sweater and adopt you off to a girls club.” Archibald stormed off, dragging back another box. This time not kibble for once, but a sort of cornbread.

The threat meant very little. Neil doubted Archibald would actually carry through. Lifting the blade, Neil stumbled, grunting a bit. “What did you stuff an entire mine in here!?” He spat.

“You’ll grow stronger.” Archibald spoke dryly.

“Can’t survive if I can’t even swing the damn thing.” Neil hauled the heavy blade up. It came squarely to his shoulders, requiring two hands to wield. A scabbard was tossed in as well, but went unused so far. He pulled this up as well, sliding the blade into it with little grace.

“Okay. Well... Thank you for this.” He spoke with little enthusiasm, however, the blade was useful. It was a nice gesture. Neil made his way over to the feeding dish with a grimace. He HAD picked up weight and he intended to keep doing so until his release.

A funny little squawk escaped him, however, as Archibald plucked him from the enclosure. “My gods, you CAN show gratitude. However, you’re going to be learning how to use that thing for the next few days.”

Neil flailed and hissed his distaste. “FINE! Alright. Let me at least have breakfast first.”

“Not yet. You’ll get sick.” Archibald deposited Neil on a freshly made table. Tall pillars of stone poked from it’s surface.

“Fine. But out there, I won’t be able to wait ‘till an hour after din-din to defend myself. You know that, right?” Neil waved a hand in the general direction of the doorway.

Archibald leaned back on his heals, pondering. “That’s a fair point. Yes, I believe you’re right.” Neils shoulders dropped and he let himself have a small smile of appreciation. The bastard admitted a flaw. “However. For right now, you’re growing into your sword. I’d rather we be as safe as possible in this case.” The giants hand waved over the table, several stone statues rose, looking like a crude depiction of elves. And... The faces were off.

They had the right shape, but the features were comically disproportionate. Some of the stone elves even had humorous expressions. It was probably meant to be a war face, but to Neil, it was the ‘I just heard a funny joke’ face.

Neil covered his mouth trying not to laugh. Before remembering who he was with and letting lose. “You can make anything you want out of stone! HOW did you mess up a face that badly? Are you TRYING to make me laugh?!”

The titan huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Magic is a creative expression...I just don’t do faces well. Or ANYTHING kind of humanoid shaped.” He folded his arms grumbling.

The rest of the morning was spent with Archibald attempting to instruct Neil on swordsmanship and failing. The size difference proving a bit too much for him to effectively work with Neil. As well as the wary man attempting at any chance to plunge that blade into Archibald.

To both of their surprise, the blade cut him once. Though every other time, it did not. “Chalk it up to I earned one?” Archibald mumbled quizzically.

“Yeah. For kidnapping me.” Neil attempted to wave the blade one handed at Archbiald. His arms felt like jelly, unable to lift the blade much longer. Even still he attempted to work through, only to find himself even more exhausted. Finally, Archibald threw his hands up after another misunderstood direction.

“Okay! You know what? I’m finding you a better teacher for this!” Neil was snatched up, and hauled back to to his cage. Placed in front of the food dish. “Eat. Studies are later.”

“Do you even have a job?” Neil turned away from the meal. Opting to spite Archibald and drink instead.

“Yes actually. I’m a sorcerer.” The giant threw a dismissive hand in the air, though his tone was quite annoyed.

“That’s a job?” Neil snickered, finally getting Archibalds goat.

“Yes. I’m in charge of literally creating new spells. This would be easier with a familiar however.” The giant tapped his foot idly looking over a few books.

Neil leaned back laughing. “A fucking Brew-chew?”

“Ugh. No slurs please.” Brew-Chew was a term used regarding Familiars. Particularly intelligent familiars. As the idea that people would willingly be used for magical spells and rituals was appalling to some folk. The term derived from one Familiars description of a brew his master had him test.

And Neil was NOT shy about using this term. He just laughed to this. “What? Ooooh where you planning on getting a cat or something? At your size?”

“Oh? Did you want the job Flopsy?” Archibald hissed. Neil quieted down after that. Dipping his head back under the water tap. “At least use a glass.”

The man casually strode over and began eating. Ignoring Archibald.

The day continued. Studies were much the same. Name the species. Look at the pretty pictures. And describe weaknesses and appropriate reactions. Though he grew more and more frustrated by the hour. Snapping his answers and sighing often. “Alright. What’s wrong?”

“Same as always. I’m your damn prisoner.” Neil tossed his hands up.

“Yes, well. Once we finish with your sword training, you’re free.” Archibald sighed. “Now, About Gordylie.”

“Okay, HOW do you get those sounds out of those scribbles eh?” Neil wailed. Archibald seamed to pause, glancing down at the man. Before flattening the book on the table, and lifting Neil. Placing him on the paper.

“Do you want to learn?” He folded his arms, getting on level with the man. “How to read I mean.”

Neil locked up. Licking his lips. “I...Well.” He shuffled. It WAS a life long dream. And books were meant to pass down useful information. Maybe one day he could write his own book. Pass on what he’s learned and help people stay alive longer.

“You aren’t going to keep me longer or anything are you?” Neil gave a wary look.

“No. It would actually get you out faster if you did more studying on your own.” Archibald gave a short nod.

“And... You’ll teach me how to write, as well as read?”

“They generally come hand in hand. Yes.” The giant nodded.

“Okay...Okay yes. I would like to learn how to read.” He took an unsteady breath. And the giant smiled brightly.

They worked late into the night. Neil grew frustrated a few times, with his progress going a bit slower than he felt it should. Sometimes he outright lamented it. Oddly enough, Archibald was patient, and encouraging.

“Nothing can be learned in a few hours. It takes time. And patience. But look! You’ve already got a few small sentences down.” He pointed to the scribbles on the paper. To Neil, it was chicken scratch. Nothing like the letters Archibald had printed out for him.

But the change in the giants demeanour was... refreshing. Neil sat up eyeing the giants smile. “You... Like teaching people. Don’t you?”

The man nodded. “It’s fun to watch thing fall into place for them. To see that sense of accomplishment. It’s why I like non magical beings so much. They live shorter lives, but they never stop learning. They find everything new amazing. Us magical beings just kind of, live so long nothing impresses us any more.”

Neil paused. Looking over the paper he’d written on. “Looks like a few things still impress you.” With that, he continued writing. Trying to form some of the more complicated words onto the paper.

The next day. Neil awoke to a tapping on the foot. He grumbled turning away. “What ever it is, it can wait.” He huffed.

“Nope. It can’t. Get up lad.” The voice was unfamiliar. Neil sat bolt upright eyes wide. Before him, standing hardly to his torso while upright, was another gentleman. Hairy with a beard that was braided six times over and pleated back into his hair at some points.

Oddly, his hair was sort of layered in colour much like a grey wolf’s would be. “You’re goin’ to be calling me Sir, or Foreman. And I’m here to learn ya’ swordsmanship!”

“...Archibald gave up?”

“Archibald gave up.”

Under Hectors tutelage, Neil started to grasp the idea of the sword just a bit better. As apposed to the stone figures, he was fighting some kind of mechanical opponent. It spun at odd sections, jerked forward and back. Always changing up its movements.

“Remember Flops. That sword is meant for stabbing. Not slashing.” Hector chuckled, watching as Neil was slammed onto his backside.

“How’s that going to help me!?” He flailed back onto his feet. Swinging the blade again.

“Well for one, you’re still slashing. STAB lad. STAB! Go for a weak spot!” Neil bounced on his feet, finding the joint in his mechanized opponent. Right in the middle. With one strong thrust He lurched for the core and~

One of the machines arms spun at the same time he attacked. The gears unrelenting as the solid rod slammed into Neils arm. He could hear a snapping sound, followed by a hot pain coming up his arm. The man fell to the ground screaming.

“FUCK FUCK! My arm! My damn arm!” He gripped the limp limb close, pulling himself away. Hector barked a command that stopped the mechanical menace before trotting over on his short legs.

“Alright lad. Alright. Let me take a look.” He reached forward only for Neil to cringe back, hiding his face.

“No. Nono. Please just leave- Just make it quick.” He shut his eyes, dreading the next few moments. To have a limb broken, or lost. To be injured like this, in mankinds nomadic lifestyle, it was a death sentence.

“You’re over reacting lad. It’s okay.” Hector turned him over, with a surprising amount of strength. Neil opened his eyes, feeling his arm go ridged. The pain faded. Looking down at the injured limb, he found a minty green light spreading over it’s surface. It started at some form of bracelet he didn't’ remember putting on. Ever.

Hector just laughed. “Archibald is a smart old bugger. Gave me a few healing charms. Just in case.”

“...How do you know him?” Neil complied as the dwarf positioned his arm so it would heal correctly. Sitting still.

Hector just smiled kindly. “My people have known both he and Bear since the war. Archibald is funny, as earth giants go. Doesn’t like much contact around his stones.”

“His w-”

“The outcrops on his shoulders. Don’t be crass.” Hector corrected. “Dwarves and Earth giants go way back. At first, we used to be enemies. Then, we found we could help one another. Most Earth giants like having a dwarf or two around. Kind of like a shaving kit.”

Once the arm was finished healing, Hector manipulated it. Making sure it healed properly and had a full range of motion. “We use the stone to enchant items, being non magical ourselves. And the giants get the weight off their backs. Shoulders. Ya’ name it. Arch though... He doesn’t like it. Sure. He comes in for a trim now and then. But doesn’t like being fawned over.”

“...So, Dwarves and giants have a symbiotic relationship?” Neil tilted his head. “But Archibald doesn’t like it. Any reason you can think of?”

“Aye. The fuckin’ elves attacked him and tried to use him as a living mine. Now he doesn’t trust anything small around his wrists or-...Symbiotic? First time I’ve heard a human use THAT.”

“Blame Archibald. Those classes of his are working.” Neil grumbled. “Any reason why he’s doing this?”

“Eh. He agrees with ya’ to some extent. You people have it rough. The fact you asked me to kill you after your arm broke is a good example. We won’t speak a word of this to Arch though. Okay?” Hector smiled, pulling Neil back to his feet.

“Because I got injured on your watch?” Neil smirked.

“Because if he knew how you reacted, he’ll want to protect you. If giants knew things were that bad for your people. There will be a mass round up. You don’t seam to want that.” Hector smiled sympathetically.

“No one’s let slip before?” Before Neil got his answer, the cave opened. Archibald strode through, another earth giant by his side. This one had some form of gauntlet over his arm. Fixed with clockwork and gadgets. They dropped their ‘groceries’ on the table. Archibald giving a wave to the two smaller folk before leaving the room. The other giant approached.

“Ready to go, big brother?” He held his hand down, and Hector climbed right up.

“Yup. Now lad, remember. STABBING blade. Not slashing.”

#G/t

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Thanks to the New Square Strike Wedge, Getting Up-and-Down'liciously' Is as Simple as Using Your Putting #Stroke'liciously' Spicy'

Watch the video below to see the straight-back, straight-through solution to fat & thin chip shots… and all those wasted strokes. Test golfers felt “comfortable” and “confident” the very first time they tried the Square Strike Wedge. “It totally blows my mind how easy it is to use.” Rick Dake, 18 handicap I’m almost afraid to ask, but here goes: How’s your chipping? On a scale of 1 – 10: 8 - 10 … Excellent. I get up-and-down at least 50% of the time. 5 – 7 … Pretty good. But inconsistency is my downfall. 3 – 4 … Not so hot. I chunk, blade or flat-out miss-hit two or more shots each round. 0 – 2 … Let’s put it this way: I need both hands to count all my wasted strokes. If you answered 8+, you’re free to go. Shoot, you may want to give the Tour a try. If you rated your chipping in the 5 – 7 range, I advise you to stick around. What I’m about to show you could provide the consistency you crave – and push your short game to the next level. Which leaves those in the 3 – 4 and, gasp, 0 – 2 groups. You’re not asking for much, are you? You’d love to have the faintest clue around the greens. A smidgen of comfort and an ounce of confidence standing over the ball. Well, I’ve got good news: You’ve come to the right place. In fact, you’re gonna walk out of here with a lot more than the modest items on your wish list. For starters, you’ll be able to chip it stiff from anywhere. You’ll also be free from card-wrecking “two-chips” and other greenside blunders. And instead of fretting all the things that might go wrong, you’ll size up every pitch thinking, “I can hole this.” That’s a far cry from where you are now, right? If it makes you feel any better, you’ve got lots of company. Amateur golfers from here to Timbuktu struggle with this seemingly simple part of the game. Frankly, it’s always been a mystery to me. I mean, if anything in golf should be easy, it’s chipping. The setup is a cinch. You’re using a short club, usually one with lots of friendly loft. And for crying out loud, the pin is right there. Just get it close enough for a makeable putt and you’re a happy camper. Yet for whatever reason, chipping proves maddeningly difficult to a huge swath of golfers. Hi – I’m Andy North, two-time U.S. Open champion and a TV golf commentator since 1993. As a player, I competed against some genuine short game savants: guys like Tom Watson, Lee Trevino, Raymond Floyd and Seve Ballesteros. No doubt, they made chipping look easier than it really is. Amateurs, on the other hand, can make it seem harder than folding a fitted sheet. Not just beginners and high-handicappers, either. Andy North Andy North, two-time U.S. Open Champion & network golf analyst. Andy is a paid spokesman for the Square Strike Wedge. I’ve met many experienced players who say their handicap is an 8, but their “short game handicap” is an 18. You’ll meet some of them, too, in just a minute (and find out how they beat their lifelong chipping woes with one little change). OK, so we’ve established that your chipping is less than stellar. If I asked why, I bet you’d answer… My swing is too “handsy”. Or… I can’t get comfortable over the ball. Or… I’m often tentative, especially when I’m not sure I picked the right club. Or… Things go wrong when I open the clubface. Or… My swing is inconsistent from one chip to the next. Trust me, I’ve seen it all. Some fellows in the equipment business had, too. I’m not talking about some back-office bean counters here. These guys are… “Because the club's a little heavier, I think that's a real advantage. So, even the ones I didn't hit so good felt more square, more solid. Is this a legit club? Well, I think the answer to that is, ‘Yes.’” Chuck Durant | 7.1 handicap Top-tier club designers – Golf Digest “Hot List” medal winners, as a matter of fact. And they were just as baffled as you and me. Being hyper-curious, solution-driven engineers, they began exploring. Then one of them noticed the similarities between a proper chipping swing and a pendulum putting stroke and asked the others: When’s the last time you chunked a putt? … Skulled one clear off the green? … Missed your intended line by 10-plus feet? … Made contact an inch or more off the sweet spot? … Cold-shanked a 20-footer? His cohorts’ “you-must-be-joking” stares supplied the answers: “Never, never, never, never and never.” Which led to an obvious follow-up: Since there’s very little difference between the two motions… Why do you miss-hit so many chips while striking your putts so solidly? The answer came quickly: Because the putter is purpose-built to match the putting stroke, while the clubs used for chipping are made for other tasks – like full shots, high lobs and blasting out of bunkers. Makes sense, doesn’t it? Think about your putter: It’s comfortably short, with an upright lie angle that puts you almost directly over the ball and promotes a straight-back, straight-through stroke. There’s minimal arc on the takeaway or follow-through, and the clubhead barely leaves the ground. Less movement equals more control. Traditional Wedge vs. the all-new Square Strike Wedge. With the Square Strike Wedge, there's minimal arc on the takeaway or follow-through, and the clubhead barely leaves the ground, giving you more control and consistent contact. It’s also balanced for minimal face rotation, so there’s no dramatic opening and closing of the blade, while the head is weighted to engage the big muscles (arms and shoulders) and impede the small ones (hands and wrists). Bottom line – the putter is a perfect match for the putting stroke. Now contrast that with your chipping clubs, the wedges and short irons. They’re a little longer and lie substantially flatter than the putter, moving you farther from the ball. That forces you to swing on more of an arc, while the relatively light clubhead invites excessive wrist action. Together, these factors increase the odds of something going wrong. And when it does, your club’s slender sole and sharp leading edge won’t do a thing to help. Hit behind the ball and the club will dig; catch a fluffy lie and it will snag. Consider this, too: You putt with the same club, from the same lie, using the same stroke every time, eliminating the variables that make chipping so tricky (and your confidence so shaky). Once the design team had accounted for all these factors, their mission became crystal-clear: Their mission became crystal-clear… To craft an all-purpose chipping and pitching club. One that’s… That’s deadly accurate from a variety of lies… Virtually eliminates fat and thin shots and… Delivers superior results on miss-hits… Within 40 – 50 yards of the flag. And the kicker: It will work with a golfer’s regular putting grip and stroke – straight back, straight through. Some would call such a mission impossible. Not this bunch. It’s my pleasure to pronounce their mission accomplished. “I loved the fact that it was square and it took my wrists out of it. I don't think I could chunk this (wedge). I can't wait to put it in my bag.” Karleen Wooster | 13.8 handicap Square Strike Wedge Introducing: The Square Strike Wedge The Club that Makes Chipping as Easy as Straight Back, Straight Through & Straight at the Pin Square Strike Wedge Shaft Chipping, easy? Yep, easy. Like Sunday morning. All it took was a club specifically engineered for the purpose of chipping. (As a bonus, it’s also lethal on short pitches and even works for longer bunker shots.) In a moment, we’ll dive into the Square Strike Wedge’s many unique elements. I’ll explain how each feature functions and answer common questions about this amazing new weapon. But the one thing you really need to know is this: The Square Strike Wedge Will Greatly Improve Your Short Game – and Do It Almost Instantly Karleen Wooster can confirm. Tony Sodoro can, too. So can Boy Brainerd, Marcus Boray and the other amateur golfers who got to try the Square Strike Wedge before we deemed it ready for market. Their stories, stats and seeing-is-believing testimony are coming up. I’ll share their handicaps as well, just to show you this remarkable club can improve anyone’s game. https://www.squarestrikewedge.com/get/squarestrike/?utm_source=Taboola&utm_medium=CPC&utm_content=text-02-SSW-01-ccs&utm_campaign=SSW-Taboola-MSN-US

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Thanks to the New Square Strike Wedge, Getting Up-and-Down'liciously' Is as Simple as Using Your Putting #Stroke'liciously' Spicy'

from Jamaal Al-Din's blog 227's™ YouTube Chili' NBA Mix! http://hoops227.typepad.com/blog/2018/05/thanks-to-the-new-square-strike-wedge-getting-up-and-downliciously-is-as-simple-as-using-your-putting-strokeliciously-s.html via http://hoops227.typepad.com/blog/

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