Apr 29, 2024
Back out in NY with Coco Ullrich
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Back out in NY with Coco Ullrich
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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HE IS SOOOOOOOOO GORGEOUS
Pedro, sir, I would pass out if you said my name like that
Translation:
“Pedro I have a twenty year old daughter who’s crazy for you.”
“What’s your daughter’s name?”
“Helen. Please say hello.”
“Hello Helen.”
“You know what she says? You’re her papi chulo.”
D I S T R A C T I O N
gif from @carricfisher
paring: din djarin x f!reader
word count: 6.24k
rating: m (minors dni)
song inspo: speed by kali uchis
summary: the only other thing being built up besides mando’s new ship is the tension between the two of you. inspired by tbobf episode 5.
warnings: mega flirting, touching/teasing, language, slight competency kink, some fluffy parts, that’s all I can think of right now but let me know
authors note: the way tbobf ep 5 is my whole personality now lol. the view of the camera when mando’s in the cockpit is literally the inspo for this oneshot like it had me blushing. bryce knows what she’s doing
“So, remind me again why you made me haul this pile of junk, in the hot sun, all the way here?” You huff as you wipe the sweat from your brow.
“I told you already, girl,” Peli hollers from the other end of the hanger. “I’m making good on a promise for a long term customer!”
She strides towards you and the hovering docking pallet holding what’s left of maybe a ship. You’ve seen a lot of flying death traps in your months working with Peli as “executive senior assistant” she calls you. But this? An N-1 Starfighter? A rare find, but It’s already decades old, missing more than half of its guts, not to mention the beating sands of the Dune Sea did the chassis no favors. At this point, it’s scrap metal.
“Yeah, I couldn’t remember. Everything’s a little fuzzy from the heat stroke,” you half-joke. The docking pallet lowers, dropping the ship remains in the shaded garage with a loud thud as loose parts and sheets of metal tumble to the ground. A plume of dust and sand fills the space.
“Ah, quit your whining! You obviously can’t see the potential this little honey has. That’s the problem with you young people, can’t see the treasure in the trash.” She points her finger at you, emphasizing her criticism. And maybe you would’ve been a little sour about it if she didn’t hand you a cold canteen of water at the same time.
You watch her as she paces around the relic, running her fingers over the seams of the panels, inspecting the ship with her “uh huhs” and “yups”. It’s entertaining, watching the gears turn in her head when she’s met with a challenge. She stops at your side and places her hands on her hips proudly. “That bucket head is gonna love this little bird.”
“The Mandalorian? I thought he’s used to a gunship. He’s not gonna bother with this.” He was very specific of what he wanted in his initial message.
“You’ve never met him before,” she counters. “He’s a stubborn bastard but I know how to get through that thick helmet of his. And plus-“ she slaps your back a few times hard and you almost choke on the water. “Doesn’t hurt to have a little more experience under your belt.” She walks across the hanger to her office, mumbling something about sending a reply message.
You’re left in front of the antique. The dust settles slowly as the light beams through the shades of the garage, giving the ship a warm glow. You definitely have your work cut out for you with this project. But you’re confident in your skills. You take another long swig from the canteen and release a deep exhale.
“He better pay well…”
•
When he arrives, he’s nothing like you expected.
You watch from afar as Mando argues with Peli about the ship, trying to decipher his character. They bicker like the oldest of friends and it oddly makes him seem more approachable. He occasionally glances to you from across the garage, probably trying to figure out the same for you. You’re surprised when Peli asks him the help build the ship he didn’t even want. Shocked when he agrees to. He’s surprisingly respectful. In a silent, stoic way. In fact, the only thing intimidating about him is his armor and the blaster strapped to his hip.
An hour later, the entire floor of the garage is covered in the guts of the ship. You’re hopping over parts, trying to keep your balance with the heavy tool box under your arm as you make your way to Mando. You find him under the belly of the ship, arms deep inside the chassis, arguing with the little BD droid.
“I wouldn’t hold it against him,” you say. You drop the tool box on the floor and it lands with a puff of dust and sand, sending the little droid to scurry away. Crouching down, you meet the Mandalorian face to…well, visor. “BD has the attention span of a sand fly.” In an attempt to be friendly, you give him a small warm smile. Mando’s hands stop dead in their tracks when he sees you. His visor is inky black, no way to read his expression. He doesn’t respond right away though. His gaze is fixed on you. And it sends a shiver up your spine and color to your cheeks. You try to recollect yourself by clearing your throat and breaking the silence.
“Need some help?” You let out the breath you’ve been holding and try to seem collected. That seems to break his concentration. He turns his attention back to his task and finally responds. “Yes, I… could use a steady light.” His voice is low and gruff, it echos in your ears wonderfully. Oh, you really like that. So you oblige him.
“Scoot,” you request. You lay on the sand and shuffle underneath the ship and Mando doesn’t hesitate to make room for you. You slide until your shoulders meet his and grab the flash light from your belt. “Here?” You point the light to where you think he’s working. Without a word, he gently wraps his hand around your wrist holding the light and guides you to his desired spot. And all too soon, his soft leather gloves leave, your skin missing the warm contact. “Right here, thank you.” His voice is right next to your ears and your mind is fuzzy. You can feel how warm your cheeks are. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice.
A comfortable silence settles between the two of you as he continues his task. You watch as he pulls more parts from the chassis and tosses them around the garage floor. Occasionally watching the muscles in his arms flex under the duraweave material when ripping out particularly stubborn pieces. After a few minutes, Mando is the one to break the silence first.
“I didn’t catch your name earlier,” he says simply, his focus still above him. You didn’t take him as the type for small talk. But his serious nature is tempting to tease.
“I don’t think I gave it,” you quip. Your words make him let out a small laugh and you try to imagine what kind of smile he has underneath the helmet. The thought alone makes your own lips curl upwards.
“Well,” he continues, “it’s not everyday you see a mechanic in Mos Eisley so young.” He leans to the side to grab a wrench and tinker with something deep inside the belly.
“I’ve been working on anything with an engine since I could hold a servodriver. So, I think I can hold my own. And you should-'' you gently take the wrench from his hand. Leaving it aside, you reach into your tool box for a spanner wrench and gesture for him to take it. “This is better for what you want to do.” He looks at the spanner wrench, then back at you before taking it from your hands nodding a ‘thank you’ before working again.
“Not one so pretty either.”
Did he just…? You stiffen. You’re wondering if he really said what he just said and the color returns to your cheeks. He’s barely said two sentences to you and yet his voice makes your head spin. Honestly, damn him for making you this flustered. He’s just a man. With his dumb raspy voice and stupid strong arms.
“Peli didn’t mention how chatty you are,” you quip again.
“So… What did she tell you then?,” he asks. His words sound slightly ambiguous. Almost as if he’s actually asking what your impression of him is through that question. Why would he care what others think of him? His behavior is continually unexpected from what you’ve been told from the stories. Well, who are you to withhold.
You sigh through your nose. Still holding the light steady, you lean slightly to the side, your torso facing him. “She told me you were a real son of a bitch.” With that, he stalls. He slowly turns to face you but your eyes remain upward. “That you’re stubborn and hard headed. Not to mention reckless… But that you also saved her life once. And that you pay well.” You finally turn to face him and he’s somehow only inches from your face. You have a gut feeling you’re meeting his eyes. “You know, good things.”
That last part actually makes him turn away and chuckle. A warm raspy laugh, like music to your ears. And knowing it was a result of your words lights a spark in your gut. His hands start their work again.
“Can’t say she’s wrong,” he acknowledges.
What does that mean? Your curiosity is persistent.
“Wh-“
“Great news!
You gasp at Peli’s sudden intrusion and lurch forward resulting in you head making hard contact with a thick metal beam. You groan as you lie back down against the sand cradling your head, muttering curses under your breath. So much for keeping your cool. Mando drops the wrench and leans over you, resting a warm glove on your shoulder. He says something along the lines of “you ok?” But you can’t really hear him over Peli yelling
“I found you a turbonic venturi power assimilator. You’re gonna be the fastest ship in the outer rim!” As she strides in the garage with the hover pallet carrying the part, loud as thunder you both crawl out from beneath the ship.
“Dank Farrik, do you have to barge in so loud like that,” you snapped, still rubbing the sore spot on your head. “Gotta keep you on your toes girl,’ she hollers, “Consider it part of your training.”
Mando and Peli talk shop with the Jawas. Listing parts and discussing payment. You busy yourself trying to organize the parts laid around the floor. It gives you time to think about everything Mando has said to you thus far. Piecing together what kind of man he is. Did he really say…?
Peli heads towards the adjacent garage for her own tools, leaving you with the Mandalorian. He stands in front of the nose of the ship, hands on his hip, surveying the remains. His broad figure illuminated from the fragments of light peeking through the tarp shades above. Everything about his form suggests strength and hostility, from his dark silver armor to the many weapons on his person. And yet, you find yourself approaching him unafraid. You stand next to him also facing the ship. Just bones and potential.
“This is gonna take all night,” he groans. You nod in agreement. At the very least until tomorrow afternoon.
“I’m gonna start the kaf pot.” You release a heavy sigh as you turn on your heels and head towards the opposite end of the hanger. But before you’re completely outside the garage, he speaks.
“I still didn’t catch your name.”
You stop in your tracks. He’s persistent, that much is for sure. However, you get the feeling that he’s used to getting what he wants, largely due to his reputation as both warrior and hunter. But you’re more than keen to keep playing this little game. You turn your torso slightly enough to look over your shoulder to him. He’s entirely facing you with arms dropped to his sides, waiting for your answer.
“I still haven’t given it,” you toy.
“That’s how it’s gonna be?”
You’re eyes float up and down his figure. A small part of you relishes in the attention.
“For now.” With that, you continue your stride. And something about knowing he’s watching you makes your hips sway a little more.
“For now,” he repeats under his breath.
•
The rest of the day is spent solely on the ship. Replacing parts, sanding down the yellow finish, and working on the twin radial engines. You spend most of your time in the cockpit working on the wiring and dashboard. And frequently shooing away scurriers. You’re popping in and out, going back and forth around the garage for tools and ropes of wires, trying to keep yourself busy.
Occasionally, you catch the glances from Mando watching you work while doing his own tasks. And you’re pretty sure he’s caught yours as well. He decides to do most of the heavy lifting, securing the heavy panels onto the chassis. His grunts and pants flow freely through his modulator, blessing your ears. It almost has you leaving the garage entirely to try to hide how worked up you are.
Peli is in her own world for the most part. This is something of a dream project for her. But she’s no fool not to notice the way Mando and you have been stealing glimpses of each other. Even going as far as winking at you. To which you quickly turn your attention back to the dashboard and ignore her completely.
It’s well into the night now. The air is brisk and the garage is lit only by a few industrial lights scattered on the floor. Everyone, even the droids, are scattered around doing separate tasks. Leaning back in the pilot’s seat, you rub your palms over your tired eyes in frustration.
“If I have to replace this motivator one more time, I’m gonna lose it,” you groan.
“That’s it,” Peli adds, “I’m bringing the kaf pot over here. We’ll never finish at this rate.” Removing her welding helmet, Peli lets it drop unceremoniously to the floor as she starts to walk to her little office across the way, dragging her feet sluggishly.
You hop out of the cockpit and land flat on your feet beside the Starfighter, knees buckling from lack of use. You close your eyes as you stretch your arms upward and arch your back, savoring the relief that racks through your body after hours of sitting in the tight space. As you do, the hem of your tank top rises, exposing the skin of your abdomen to the cold desert air.
You don’t notice right away, you don’t even mean to look in his direction. But when you open your eyes, they lock on to the Mandalorian’s black visor just barely pointed towards you. It seems he was pacing around the ship, checking the seams of the panels when he stopped in his tracks to catch a glimpse of your bare, soft midriff. His subtle glance makes the spark in your gut return and you have no intentions to extinguish it. As soon as you catch him, he turns his attention back to the chrome finish and continues pacing. You look away and smile to yourself, feeling slightly bashful.
Dropping your arms to your sides, you begin your own pace around the ship, inspecting the handywork. It’s actually looking like a Starfighter now and not a pile of scrap metal. You run the pads of your fingers over the yellow markings left behind to complement the chrome. As you drift around the ship, you try to think of something to spark a conversation.
“Your ship’s coming along nicely,” you decide to say. “Should be done by morning, if we can all stay awake that is.” You try to joke with him, keeping your words light. Hoping to get another gruff laugh out of him.
He continues checking the chrome panels, making sure they’re secure and air tight. “It is,” he glances just slightly to meet your doe eyes. “I appreciate your help, I’m sorry to keep you up so late.”
He leans back against the ship crossing his arms over his chest. You catch up to him, deciding to lean against the adobe wall opposite of him, crossing your arms as well. You make sure he’s looking at you when you speak.
“No, you’re not.”
A few moments pass in silence. He’s completely still as he looks at you and you look at him. You can even hear the sound of the wind as it sweeps over the crater of the hanger. Mando drops his arms to his side, looping his thumbs through his belt. He tilts his helmet to the side and you’re buzzing with anticipation.
“No,” he repeats, “I’m not.”
You could blame the goosebumps across your skin on the cold night air. But you’d be lying to yourself. You chuckle lightly at his answer. And inside, that spark is trying to burn it’s way out. You put one foot in front of the other, slowly until you’re standing directly in front of him. Even leaning back, he’s almost a full head taller than you. Your eyes drift lower to his cuirass, admiring how it frames handsomely over his broad chest, rising and falling with each breath.
“You seem distracted,” he murmurs.
Caught. Although, it’s not like you were trying hard to hide your interest. “That’s funny,” you tease, “I was going to say the same thing about you.” Your doe eyes float back to his visor and you could swear you heard his breath falter through the helmet. Your own breath is caught in your throat as he wraps a gloved hand tenderly around your wrist. He pulls you by the hand towards him until your legs are practically between his. He lays your palm flat against his cuirass and your knees almost buckle.
“What makes you think I’m distracted?” His voice is like honey, thick and dripping with temptation. Finally unveiling your mutual pining. His warm hand holds yours in place and you melt at his gesture. He’s so close. His tenderness makes you warm all over.
You chew over your answer for a few seconds. But you’re compelled to match his sincerity. Your fingers run over the lines of his cuirass, you reply just above a whisper. “You seem…sad.” You peer into the visor, hopefully meeting his eyes. “You seem like… you can’t sleep. Like you need to keep yourself busy.”
Mando is completely still beneath your palm. Moments pass by and he still hasn’t said a word. His period of silence seemingly lasts forever, making you second guess your words. You’ve decided to dive into deep waters, forgoing your more flirtatious mood. You barely know him. Why would you say that? But honestly? You’ve noticed it since your initial encounter. And while you have no intentions to uncover his life story, it’s plain as day that he carries himself like the weight of the galaxy rests on his shoulders.
His visor still remains fixed on you. You feel completely exposed to him and it makes your chest feel tight. You can’t bear to hold his gaze any longer. Feeling embarrassed, you’re eyes drift to the ground.
“I’m sorry,” you breathe. “I didn’t mean… I shouldn’t have presumed…” You’re about to leave him completely. Before you even get the chance to lift your hand, his own hand keeps it in place and rubs his thumb over your skin. A small gesture signifying that you didn’t overstep yourself. He stands up straight and you have to crane your neck to meet his gaze.
“A lot has changed for me recently,” he begins. “I’m… still not used to it.” He doesn’t have to do this. He doesn’t owe you an explanation. “Coming back here is something familiar to me.”
Even though you don’t know his story, you understand. You know that feeling, being reluctant to change. It’s why you’ve remained on Tatooine for so long. When the world you were so comfortable with shatters, you cling to whatever pieces you can. You’re moved by his honesty. In a strange way, you feel obligated to comfort him. To keep his mind occupied from his own burdens, if only for a little while. You absentmindedly chew on your lower lip, thinking over your next words.
“How can I help, Mando,” you ask. Hearing you say his ‘name’ like that puffs his chest with pride. You’re close enough to feel the warmth of his body radiate off of him. Any closer and your breath would be fogging his visor. Taking your hand in his, he looks down upon it as he runs his thumb over your knuckles.
“You already are,” he confesses.
His words make you melt completely under his touch. You savor each stroke of soft leather over your bare skin, never looking away from him. As if you’re afraid this moment will vanish into thin air. It’s exhilarating. You feel your own chest rising and falling deeply with heavy breaths, yearning for his voice again.
“You’re… very skilled with your hands,” he breathes. You hum in delight. His other hand abandons his belt. With his index finger, he lightly lifts the hem of your shirt, ghosting his knuckle over the bare skin of your abdomen. There’s no hiding the shiver of your body and the little gasp caught in your throat. Pleased with your reaction, he continues to run circles slowly over your tummy. “I like that about you,” he finishes, his voice is dark and heavy.
Your cheeks begin to burn, it’s all too much to handle. You try to look away to preserve what’s left of your dignity. A sheepish grin crosses your face. “Maker,” you exhale, “you can’t just say things like that, Mando. You’re gonna give a girl the wrong idea.” Before you even finish your sentence, his hand leaves your tummy, taking your chin between his thumb and forefingers, pulling your attention directly back to him. You can see your eyes in his reflection, your pupils blown wide.
“Please don’t look away,” he mutters, his thumb caresses your chin, his grip is gentle but firm, keeping your eyes fixed on him and only him, “pretty girl.”
Oh, you do like it when he says please.
Time isn’t of any consequence to either of you right now. You feel the rise and fall of his chest, and you find yourself matching his rhythm. And with every passing breath you’re closer and closer until you’re pressed together. Your hips brush his and heat pools between your legs. His helmet leans so close you feel the cold helmet against your burning ears
“Tell me your name” he huffs. Maker, you could hear him talk for days. They way he’s leaning over you has your face hovering over where his neck meets his shoulder and mentally curse the material of his cape for covering over such a glorious spot. Although, when you breathe in, the smells of gun smoke and musk wafts into your nostrils and you fucking ache inside.
“Will you tell me yours?,” you purr.
You know the answer. You both know. Earn it. You almost say it out loud. You want him to keep asking, keep toying, keep pretending like he has the upper hand. A bounty hunter like him is probably used to people giving him what he wants or him being able to overpower them until he takes it. But this small thing, he can’t have. Not yet anyway.
As if the universe is against you, the moment comes to an abrupt end when you hear heavy footfalls approaching the garage.
“Alright! Now, we’re in business.” Peli marches in the garage, kaf maker in her arms and the little pit droids step in line behind her.
You both sigh in disappointment, reluctantly releasing each other. “Back to work,” you whisper. Your eyes roam his figure before turning to walk towards Peli setting up the machine. Leaving him to watch you from behind, leaning back against the ship.
Immediately, your body craves his warmth again as a gust of wind blows through the hangar. It’s gonna be a long night, and you hope some warm kaf will help mitigate your fatigue and frustration. And maybe there will be another chance to “distract” him later.
•
It’s done. It’s finally kriffing done.
It’s been quite a while since you’ve pulled an all-nighter. Your entire body aches and your mind is running on empty. You’re ready to collapse on the nearest horizontal surface and pass out. But it’s all worth it to see that beautiful N1- Starfighter being pulled out into the hangar. Your chest swells with pride when she’s parked in front of the three of you.
None of you can resist keeping your hands off the ship. You had your doubts, almost quitting at some points through the night. But damn, does she look good. The rough yellow markings contrast beautifully over the silver finish. You, Mando, and Peli are all pacing around the ship, admiring the sleek lines and the muscle of the engines. But Mando is especially taken by the bird. Completely silent, admiring the craftsmanship. You can’t help but watch him, like you’re witnessing a private moment.
“You think she’s ready?”
“Ready as she’ll ever be,” she answers. “Start her up.”
“Really?” You bite your bottom lip to hold back your grin at the way his helmet snaps quickly in her direction.
“Yeah, start her up! Take a test run, I’ll be on the comlink.” She starts towards her office and you have every intention to join her and listen to his test drive through the coms. Until you feel that soft glove wrapping around your wrist, stopping you from taking another step. You turn to face him with a puzzled look on your face.
“Join me,” he insists.
Your eyes grow wide. Did you hear him right? He wants you to fly with him? “D-do we even fit in there?” You glance at the cockpit and him a few times, wondering how that would even work. He pulls you in closer by your wrists as he towers over you.
“We fit,” his baritone voice reverberates through you. Heat licks it’s way up your spine.
“Mando, I-“
“It…would honor me.”
‘It would honor me’ you repeat in your thoughts. His words make your demeanor soften, your eyes become glassy. It would honor him. Something so simple, so regular in your line of work holds such significance to him. Or perhaps, it’s the fact that it’s you that makes it significant to him. A spark lights inside your gut just thinking about giving him the “honor” of… well anything. And at the same time, it makes you turn your gaze away from him and your lips can’t help but smile. So serious, you think. He sounds like some kind of knight. Such a stark contrast to your world. It’s… sweet.
“You first, shiny,” you nod in the direction of the cockpit. He’s more than happy to pull you in the same direction.
Mando climbs the side of the ship and drops down into the pilot’s seat, spreading his legs as far as he can. As you try to descend, you grip his shoulder for balance, placing one leg between his and then the other as you take your seat upon his lap. Your arms are held close against your chest as he attempts to start the engines. It sputters, wanting to turn over but not quite there yet. You hear him sigh, “it’s not turning over.”
“Give her a little more juice,” you say, you flip various switches and you press the ignition one more time. This time, the twin radial engines sputter then burst into ignition. Bright hot flames burn blue from the engines and the entire ship rumbles with that glorious revving. Music to your ears.
“That’s a lot of engine for a little ship,” he says. Ever the practical one.
Peli answers on the intercom with a crackle. “Yeah? Well, see what she can do!”
The windshield closes above you with a hiss. As he ascends above the hangar , the whirring of engines gets higher and higher, like she wants to burst with the surging energy. He engages the forward drive and your off.
“She handles a little bumpy.”
The coms crackle. “You’re used to a Gunship. But she’s a Starfighter, so fly her like one.”
“Ok, I’ll open her up.”
He flips a few more switches. Curiously, he decides to also switch off the coms, leaving you two completely on your own. “You’re gonna want to hang on to something,” he warns. It’s already a tight fit, there’s not much to hang on to inside the cockpit. So you take this as an opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck, and that smell of gun smoke and musk makes your composure waver.
“This ok?” You ask.
He hums with satisfaction. “Perfect.”
He pushes to control forward and you lurch backward into him with a sharp gasp. The ship speeds past the city in all of three seconds, and he’s already reached the red canyon mountains in six.
“Dank Farrik, she’s fast.” He’s bobbing and weaving between the towers with sharp turns and you can’t contain the laughter that bubbles out of you. You’re gripping his shoulder so tightly your knuckles turn white. Some of the turns he takes are so sharp you don’t dare to look, stuffing your face into the crook of his neck.
“I got you,” he soothes, he’s just as breathless as you are with the maneuverability of the ship. You’re muttering curses under your breath into his neck to much of his amusement. Feeling the rumble from his chest as he laughs.
Within less than a minute, he enters Beggars Canyon, following the pod racing tracks. The ship blows past the curves with such ease and speed, it’s barely a chore for the engines. It’s so smooth.
“Let’s see what she’s got,” he murmurs, and you nod to him before he pulls back on the controls hard. You feel the force of the incredible speed as it increases, rising and rising, nose upward until the blue sky turns black with stars and you're flying above the planet's orbit. It’s the very first time you have ever been in open space and it’s…jaw dropping. He’s flying steady, adjacent to a commercial cruiser. You release one hand from his cape, pressing it gently against the windshield as you lean closer for a better view.
You’re speechless. The planet's hazy blue atmosphere complements the deep red sand on the surface. It’s beautiful, and you never thought you’d ever describe Tatooine as beautiful, besides from the binary sunsets. Mando watches, completely in awe of you. The lighting is dim but caresses the features of your face beautifully.
After a few moments, you release a few heavy breaths that have been stuck in your lungs since Beggars Canyon. You lean back against his chest, rubbing the palms of your hands over your eyes. He lays his hand on top of your thigh with concern. “You ok?” He sounds a bit worried he’s gone too far.
“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine,” another nervous laugh bubbles out of you. Your smile is warm and inviting when you turn to him. “I’ve just never been in anything this fast before,” you breathe.
“Oh,” his hand lifts from your thigh and back to the controls. “You really shouldn’t have said that,” he says wickedly. Your eyes grow wide in response.
“No. No no no no no. Don’t-“
Too late, the ship plunges forward again at full speed and you're gripping for dear life around his neck again. He bolts around the commercial ship, diving and spinning around it, putting the engines to the test. You can’t bear to look. Your face is stuffed into his neck and your cursing into his cape, “oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck…” He even goes as far as putting the ship into a spin and you can feel your heart in your throat. What a bastard. If you weren’t so smitten, you’d kill him.
Suddenly an alarm on the dashboard goes off and Mando eases on the controls. “Dank Farrik,” he curses. “X-wings, you need to get down, quick.“
“What?! How am I suppo-“
“You need to get down, now. Don’t let them see you,” he growls.
Shit. You both scramble. He’s trying to free more space as you crouch down to his feet facing him. Shit shit shit. He eases on the controls until the ship is just drifting. Two X-wings pull up on either side, requesting to open the comlink.
“Stay quiet for me, ok? I’ll handle this.” You nod at him, awkwardly trying to fit your arms somehow over his lap. He opens the channel with a flip of a switch.
“Run your beacon for me N-1.”
“Was I doing something wrong, officer?” He’s calm, but you can hear his irritation just below the surface.
“You’re not allowed to fly that fast next to a commercial ship. You’re also operating without a beacon. I’m gonna need you to run one for us.” Yeah, this and half of the other ships that fly through here. Don’t they have something better to do?
“Sorry, officer, I got a little carried away there. Transmitting now.”
You’re as quiet as a desert mouse. The last thing you need is to be towed to some outpost with a bunch of pilots catching you come out of the cockpit with the Mandalorian, with the wrong idea. It’s on that thought, however, that you’re suddenly hyper aware of your current position.
On your knees, between his legs, face level with his waist. Your arms rest on both of his thighs and the view of his chest and helmet when you look up makes you want to combust. You must have made a small noise, because his helmet turned swiftly to you. And when he sees you in this position, he’s body stiffens. It’s barely audible, but you’re pretty sure he muttered under his breath “fuck”.
Your face is burning and heat pools in the pit of your stomach. There’s nowhere to hide from his imposing t-shaped visor. There’s something annoying crackling in the background and you both realize it’s the pilot repeating something he’s said to Mando.
“Yes! Yes, we just built her. I was taking her up for a test flight. Haven’t been able to update the registration just yet.” He’s slightly flustered, trying to keep calm with two very different situations. You muse over whether or not you should tease him further and see how well his composure holds up. And also because you want him to pay for the stunt he pulled a minute ago. Yeah, he deserves it.
You test the waters by slightly gripping the top of his muscles where his thighs meet his hips. He lets out a sigh and you feel the muscles tense beneath your hands. You wait for a sign to stop or his hands to grab yours, but he doesn’t take his hands off the controls. Feeling bolder, you drag your hands slowly downward, running over the beskar and stopping at his inner thighs. You give him a firm squeeze, taking pleasure in a small groan he lets slip from his modulator.
The back of his helmet hits the headrest with a thud, his hips slightly buck in frustration as he hopelessly tries to answer the questions of these pilots. But you’ve honestly lost track of the conversation, opting for a more captivating pastime. You lips curl into a wicked smile. You can play games too.
You’re almost home free, until the other pilot starts inquiring about the Mandalorian’s old Razor Crest ship. You ears perk up but you don’t understand what he means when he mentions that the ship was “in an incident involving imperial remnants”. You look up to Mando with a knot in your brow, and mouth a “what?” To which he quickly shuts off the com channel.
“Hang on.”
There’s almost no time to prepare yourself before he flips the Kineso-Switch. You quickly wrap your arms around his torso before the sublight thrusters blast the starfighter clear to the other side of the planet. The force is so intense your cheek is pressed hard against his cuirass. Your fingers dig into his clothed waist. Finally, he pulls the controls back again, coaxing the star fighter into a slow drift.
When he’s sure he’s lost them, he turns on the autopilot, finally exhaling as he rests his hands on his thighs. You pull away from his waist, covering your face and he looks over to you. He places a hand on your shoulder, probably thinking he’s gone too far and feels guilty. Until your shoulders are shaking with laughter. It bursts out of you, unapologetic.
Mando leans back in the seat trying to regain his composure. “That. Was not. Nice,” he groans. It only makes you laugh harder, placing your hands back on his thighs to keep yourself steady from shaking. You’re absolutely giddy now that you know how much of an effect you have on him. He tries to control his panting and unwind after such a “demanding” situation. He almost didn’t catch the word that you breathed out so beautifully. He pauses, slowly dropping his helmet to look down to you, still between his legs.
“What..?”
“That’s my name…,” you speak softly. You gaze at him through half-lidded eyes.
He repeats it, getting used to the taste of it. And the way he whispers your name makes your heart soar. Mando’s hands twitch as they lift up then lightly make contact on your throat. His thumb and fingers ghost over the sides of your neck and your eyes flutter closed, savoring the feeling. His hand drags slowly upward until his hand is just below your jaw, tilting you to look up as he looms over you. You peek through your lashes and see your perfect reflection on his visor.
“You seem distracted,” you purr, returning his words from last night.
Mando holds your chin in his hand, swiping his thumb across your plush bottom lip and you’re gone. He groans through the modulator as he leans his helmet against your forehead.
“No more than usual.”
•
part two
tag list: @leithatnight , @wonderless-screwup , @babydarkstar , @thevoiceinyourheadx , if I missed anyone let me know!💕
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Bar Fight
Frankie Morales x afab!reader
Rating: Explicit (18+, Minors DNI)
Miami Girl
You're just a Miami girl doing the same things as always until someone changes that for you.
Explicit content, one shot.
Warnings: 18+ only! masturbation, manhandling, rough behavior, age gap, fem receiving oral, teasing, unprotected sex (pls be safe), creampie, fingering, and a bit of fluff. Enjoy!
Word count: 4,128