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The Mandalorian is in a mean mood. You’ve been testing his patience, the quarry has been testing his restraint and the kid isn’t here to calm him down. His normal rituals disturbed, he feels unbalanced. He’d like to smash the quarry’s face in, he’d like to run until his muscles burn in protest, he’d like to shut you up with a mouthful of his aching cock. Watch you squirm and whine in masochistic pleasure beneath him. He wants to feel you struggle to swallow him down, accept him in, take what he’s giving you, harsh and raw and―.
“Move.” Your flat voice breaks his dirty ruminations.
He won’t grant you even a turn of his head, afraid he’ll snap if he even looks at you.
You scoff, exasperated, “piss off, tin can. I need that counter for dinner.”
You’re being petty and you both know it; there’s plenty other counter space available. You’re coveting the spot he’s chosen to clean his rifle for a reason. You’re being a brat .
“Don’t push me, girl,” he rumbles, still diligently wiping his weapon.
You sputter and he catches the curve of your hip in his peripheral, coming to lean against the counter, entirely too close to him. “Me pushing you, oh that’s thick, Mandalorian. Why did you leave the kid on Nevarro? I thought you needed my help on the hunt, finally , but noooo, how stupid of me, to think that, since I’m clearly just a glorified housekeeper to you. You leave me all alone just so I can what, pick up supplies while you’re out having all the fun. I’m sick of your silence and I’m sick of you leaving me behind and I’m sick―.”
His blood is starting to boil, temperature rising and hands itching to strike, but he only mutters lowly, “ Watch your mouth .”
He’s not sure if it’s him or the air, but a thick tension is mounting. You’re quiet for a beat before, “What did you just say to me? Fuck you, man!” When you shove his shoulder, it’s all over, his patience ran out, his restraint falling, resolve crumbling.
He moves quick, whirling on you, catching your throat and backing you into the cold wall before you can blink. “Watch. Your. Mouth.” He fills your vision completely, squeezing your throat in warning. “Brat,” he adds, spitting the word out.
He scrutinizes you. He’s testing you, waiting for your reaction, body wound tight, waiting for a fight. Wanting one. You don’t disappoint, meeting him hit for hit. He’s pleased. “Screw you, Mando!” A mischievous smile creeps onto your face.
He grins beneath his helmet, “Gladly.”
Then he gives into his mean side, the prickling anger that’s been plaguing him since he returned from the hunt. Sliding a hand to your nape and gripping roughly begins to balance his previously uneven world. This is right, this is needed, it’s instinctual.
He fists your hair, and you’re vulnerable to follow his hand as he drags you down, knees crashing loudly on the floor of the Crest. You scrabble at his arm, whimpering pathetically.
“Stay. Down, ner veridurr.” My whore . He bends over you, emphasizing the delectable difference in your size, to thunder in your ear and you shiver.
His cock is pulsing steadily now, angry. He lets go of your throat to release it, opening the buckle of his trousers and admiring the image of you, breathless on your knees, fire in your eyes.
“Is this what you wanted, little brat?” He strokes his cock, the leather of his gloves rough on his skin. “This why you’ve been nagging me all day? Just needed my fat cock to shut that smart mouth up.” His left hand squeezes your jaw hard, forcing it to drop open. He takes this opportunity to feed you his cock. Your wet mouth is warm and soft and he groans loud.
“That’s it, jate’dala’ika,” good girl , he breathes, manipulating you easily and fucking your mouth. You tuck your teeth obediently and he swells with how good you’re being. He’s lost in your mouth and your submission, only slightly disappointed you aren’t giving him more trouble, letting him flex his muscles a little more.
Bam! He’s on his back, knees yanked and legs pulled from under him. Before he can breathe, you’ve crawled up his chest and lodged your knee under his helmet, pressing harshly on his throat.
You give him your weight through your knee, crunching his windpipe, leaning down. “Stay. Down. You fucking asshole.”
He’s so pleased at this development, it’s almost hard to be mad, but his warrior training kicks into high gear. Gripping your hips, he rolls them back, easing the pressure on his throat. “How am I the asshole in this scenario― . ” You reach down, stroke his still wet cock and he bucks into your touch, cut off. His hands flex hard in the tender flesh of your hips.
“If you want to tell me what to do, you’re going to have to be more convincing,” you glance at his right hand sneaking around to your thigh under the guise of feeling you up, “and clever.”
Sensing your smugness, he allows you to start to feel comfortable with the position you have him in. Sitting on his chest, stroking his cock, and then he locks one cuff around your left wrist. The shock trips you up and he takes this advantage to grab your knee and roll you both. You on your back, him between your thighs, hands on your knees, stretching your legs painfully. “Like letting you join the next hunt? How’s that for convincing?”
You whine prettily as he knocks his pubic bone against your clit. He makes room for himself between your thighs, blood pumping, he’s high off the power of keeping you down, stretching you taut, widening your thighs, edging you painfully. “G-getting th… ah fuck …there. Offer me one hunt out of every four and I’ll stop nagging you. Let you hold me down.”
“You’ll let me?” He pushes the head of his cock against your clit, and you writhe against him. He’s leaning down, crowding you perfectly into the floor, overloading your senses. Fingertips pressing bruises into your inner thighs where he stretches them, looping your lower legs over his broad shoulders. “I don’t think you have to let me do anything. In fact, I think I’m holding you down quite easily right now. I think I could take whatever I want, in this position. I think, that’s what you want, isn’t it, you smart-mouth brat?”
He’s driving himself crazy, deriving sadistic pleasure from watching you squirm beneath him. Your wetness is seeping through your pants, getting his cock sticky with it. His cockhead abuses your clit, and your hands, one still locked in a handcuff, come up to scrabble at his beskar chest.
“Please,” is all that comes out of your mouth. You’re breaking into an absolute mess and he’s building himself up on the pieces splintering off of you.
“You beg so cutely, beg again sweet girl and I’ll give you what you need.” The Mandalorian mocks you.
“I―I…can’t, please just…” You’re breathless, eyes slipping shut. His left hand leaves your thigh to wrap around your throat, his right sneaking down to circle your clit with precision and your eyes shoot open at this. “ Ughh , I hate you!”
With a feral roar, he rips at the waistband of your pants, yanking them and your underwear down to your thighs in one movement and entering you in the next. You both groan deeply, you stop squirming against him, mouth falling open and he lets you feel the fullness of him settle within you.
Your cunt is indescribable… it’s everything he’s been searching for, everything he needed. A tight vice, strangling his cock in a delicious hold. He could collapse right now, crush you underneath him and hold you tight, not let you move or leave, but then… whining.
“ Ow , fuck you Mando! Don’t even give a girl some warning,” he rolls his hips, “ oh shit , that’s… good…”
“Shh,” he tsks you. “Take it, I know you can.” You let out an unbidden high whine as he stretches you, ruthless. He’s got you near bent in half. “I gave you plenty of warning, ner veridurr.” My whore.
He wonders if you know any Mando’a, know enough to know how he’s calling you his . Even in the heat of the moment, balls deep in your drenched cunt, teeth clenched, hands flexing. To an outsider, it would appear as if you hate each other, especially him as his hips slap into yours with all the power of a trained warrior, like he’s punishing you. Which he is in a way: the most delicious, all-consuming, mutually beneficial way he knows. He can fuck you as brutal as he wants because you’re perfect and you’re his.
His thrusts are pushing you up the floor of the Crest, but still your eyes are alight with mischief, with danger, as if he is not currently stretching you past your limits and rutting you into the steel floor. Perhaps he is only feeding your fire. You’ve recovered the initial shock and are now meeting his thrusts, your hands tugging on his cowl, spine arching. “That all you got, old man? No wonder it takes you so long to catch bounties. Let me come on the next hunt and I’ll show you how it’s done.”
He growls, low and gritty. “How’d you get to be such a fucking brat, hmm? You can’t handle my hunts, little girl. My quarry would eat you up before you could even draw your blaster.”
“Good thing I stock knives then,” you murmur before pulling a blade from Maker knows where and pressing it to his throat.
He isn’t fazed, even picks up his pace, no doubt bruising the backs of your thighs with his hip bones. He clocks the flutter of your eyelashes and loosening grip around the hilt of your blade. Damn, you’re tough , but he’ll tear you down. When he circles a thumb around your clit and thrusts down into you, the knife begins to slip. He swoops it out of your grasp and you pout.
“Poor little brat, what’re you gonna do now? Where did all your leverage go?” He bears down on you, pushing your chests together and crowding into your space. “Stay. Down.”
You shudder, bite your lip and he watches victorious as you begin to fall apart, begin to surrender. The toughest ones, truly are the sweetest.
You’ve moved so far across the floor your head is inches from hitting the wall. He pulls out of you, hauls you up, spins you around onto your knees and locks your left hand, in the cuffs, to an exposed standing pipe. With quick precision, he uses the stolen knife to slash open your top and squeezes a rough handful of your tits.
“ Pfftt ,” comes your delayed response at being manhandled so. A bead of sweat rolls down your temple into your mane and he wishes he could lick it up, follow the path into your beautiful, sweet-smelling hair. Instead, he winds his hand into it, tilting your head up, knocking his helmet into the line of your jaw, wishing he could bite at your neck.
You whimper, trembling. “W-where’d you go? Please…”
“I’m right here.”
It’s an oddly, vulnerable moment so he counters by driving into again.
“Oh, fuck! Right there, sh-shit, don’t…don’t you dare…” He knows he’s hit your g-spot by the way your entire body convulses, almost trying to reject him as it’s driven to over-stimulation.
“That’s it, jate’dala’ika,” good girl . “See how good you can be when you’re not nagging me and parading around as a filthy brat. You take my cock so well, take me so well, letting me hold you down.”
You chuckle, breath hitching uneven, and turn your head slightly to catch his eye. “So you admit I’m letting you hold me down,” you wink.
“You petty little brat.” In retaliation, he uses one hand to squeeze your throat and wraps the other around your waist to flick against the hard nub of your clit. With your body falling limp, he uses you as a ragdoll, pulling you back and down on his cock. He hones his thrusts to pound that spongy spot deep inside you and you give him a beautiful, scraping moan.
“ F-fuck , gonna…I’m gonna…” you let out.
“Gonna come for me, little girl?” He growls in your ear, firm body molding itself to your soft one. Your cunt is beginning to tighten and it’s pulling him down fast.
“ Fuck Mando , I’m gonna come.” You’re starting to twitch, body shuddering and he tightens his grip on your throat.
“Yeah? Good. I want you to come. Come all over my cock like a good. Little. Whore.” He punctuates his last words with three devastating thrusts.
You sputter, choking on pleasure, cunt constricting around him. You’re so beautiful as you come, head thrown back onto his shoulder, free hand scrambling for purchase on something and finding only his forearm, still working on your clit, to sink your nails into. He wants to chain you up like this forever, never let you leave his hold. Although perhaps that’s already what he’s been doing, perhaps that’s what landed him in this hot, sticky mess.
He’s doesn’t know how to feel with all this emotion sitting on his chest, so he keeps fucking you mercilessly. With your cunt pulsing around his thick cock, he’s not far from orgasm himself. He pushes you down until your chest and cheek are smashed against the floor, back arched perfectly and uses a handful of each hip to fuck himself in you, fast . Your ass bounces hypnotically against his hips.
Lost in the quick pace, he almost misses your quiet, breathy voice. “Please…please…” When he gives you only silence, you crane your head around to meet his visor, eyes watery and lips pouting. You try again louder. “Please come in me. S’good, Mando. Please come.”
And then he’s coming, hard and long . Slumping over, he wraps both arms fully around you, pulling you into him and bearing down on you. You let out a small oof , as if he’s knocked the wind out of you. You both still, letting your heart rates even, and chests slow. One of your hands has snuck up to stroke the cheek of his helmet and the tender affection pierces his heart. He enjoys this moment with you.
“Okay,” you huff. “You literally weigh a ton, old man. Let me up.”
He tries to cover his chuckle but is sure some creeps out. Climbing off you, he swats your ass and unlocks your cuffs. Where before, the air in the Crest was filled with tension, now it smells of ease. He’s worked out his grump and you, your pettiness.
He’s stood, tucking himself away when you try standing and stumble on shaky legs. He catches you, pulling you into his chest but gets distracted by the bright red at your throat. Brushing it gently, he feels a wash of guilt.
You catch his wrist, “Don’t. I like it.”
“How can you tell, you can’t even see―.”
“Your armour is pretty shiny, tin can.” He sighs. “And I’m pretty tough.”
“I know you are.”
“Then why―.”
“I’ll let you come on the next hunt.” A wide smile spreads across your face.
“What about my one out of four offer?”
“We’ll see.”
“Careful Mando, you’re showing your cards. Now I know how to convince you.”
He tilts his helmet down and catches your chin in his hand. “Oh yeah, and how’s that?”
“Let you hold me down and fuck me into the floor.” His cock gives a valiant twitch at your dirty words.
“Hey, you never let me do anything, I had you down before you knew what hit you.” He puffs his chest.
You raise your chin and step back, out of his arms. He lets you go reluctantly. “Sure, Mando. Keep telling yourself that.”
He’s glad you can’t see his face right now, his pink blushing cheeks. Maker , you’re such a brat.
Before passing him, you snag your knife from his hip and trace the tip down your bare chest. Your shirt, still in tatters, hangs off your shoulders. “Also, you owe me new clothes.”
He wants to say something, voice how aware he is of your state of undress, but his post-orgasm brain is slow and your tits are distracting.
He jerks when you press up and give him a kiss on his beskar cheek before prancing away. “Have fun cleaning your rifle.”