#mandalorain x reader

[0funkyducky0]

𐐪𐑂 Mandalorian🌌💣

𐐪𐑂 Bo-Katan Kryze

𐐪𐑂 Boba Fett

𐐪𐑂 Cara Dune

𐐪𐑂 Dr. Pershing

𐐪𐑂 Greef Karga

𐐪𐑂 Grogu

𐐪𐑂 Mando

𐐪𐑂 Paz Visla

𐐪𐑂 The Armour

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 23}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: You begin to heal in the safety of the Crest, as you travel alongside Din once again.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical violence, inner musings of reader, mentions of past heartbreak and pain, deadly poison, talks of injuring / killing people, ritualistic and religious activities, talk of past manipulation and administration of sedative drugs, reader has a lot of quiet moments in this, sexual content, kissing, descriptions of the male body, din djarin y'all. those are the ones i can think of, i'm so sleepy

A/N: been recovering from a tooth extraction and needed a little comfort / happiness. so please enjoy this baby chapter that doubles as an interlude before the series picks back up. love y'all

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

The hum of your lightsaber is a quiet one as you practice smooth movements to illuminate the grove of tall trees you’re in the midst of, slicing through the open air of the field to allow you to see in every direction. The sun had set hours ago, the fire crackling still as Din and ad’ika are settled on the other side of the clearing. Both nodded off, as they sit around it with remnants of a giant bird that had been hunted and roasted over it for dinner. Eyes follow the white of your blade, the energy flowing strongly so much so that it lifts the fine hairs on the back of your neck and prickles your skin.

But there’s no one around, even if you think of the shuffling sound that alerted your senses from your own idle relaxation.

“We’re safe, mesh’la.” The deep rumble of Din’s voice calls, still quiet though enough volume to trickle into your ears even as you strain to hear anything out of the ordinary. “I’m not picking up any heat signatures.”

“I could’ve sworn…” With the push of a button, the saber retracts, and you turn around to face the man where he’s sitting and leaning up against a fallen trunk. Endor was alight with so much energy, left over from many battles of wartime that ravaged the world at one point in time. It had been a simple ask, from your lips to Din’s hears. The last sight of battle against the Empire. The last place you one of your own had been rumored to be. Though that was years ago, the energy still lingered. Strong and sparkling all around. It was hard to focus on what was real and what was whispers from the past.

Everything was all so much, you took a deep breath as you engaged your saber again. The white of it glows brightly even as you made your way a few steps into the tree line and ensured that your trio was truly safe. You trusted Din, you had faith in him to keep you safe but there was an underlying feeling of unease on this planet. If for no reason other than your own connection to the force and how it practically bathes everything in sheen here. The planet was one in a long list of those to visit, to search.

“The glow seems…brighter.” Din’s voice was a low velvet caress as you as you fit yourself beside him, close enough to feel the coolness of the beskar that protects his body. But he’s removed the left pauldron, that same arm wrapping around your shoulders and gently pulls you to rest your head against the thick flight suit he dons underneath. His questions are still more statements made that imply his curiosity, though he does outright ask you things in some instances.

But it’s never serious, not since that day he stood beside you as you buried your mother. You appreciate his caution, almost, but you feel…okay. For the most part, more connected with yourself. Despite taking her life, you don’t feel the pull of dark tendrils around your limbs and mind in the quiet darkness of the light or the moments when your brain recalls the ordeal that led to it.

“It’s the energy, it’s so concentrated here.”

“Is…there a reason for that? Beyond the battle taking place here.”

“It’s because he died here. Anakin.” You say his actual name, not the one you know he has taken on in his journey into the dark side. “He brought balance to the force after all the wreckage he caused, all the destruction he caused. It’s not…it’s not common knowledge but he a good man once. Tried to do good, but the Jedi, the teachings and disciplines….they were constricting. Open to interpretation that went against human nature.”

“You trained under him.” He knows that, from the confession you made the first time you headed toward Nevarro with him, at the request of a pleading Greef Karga.

“Yes, him and his master wanted me to train to take over eventually. But not when he was a Jedi, I had only glimpsed him over the couple years I was at the temple. There was a war going on, so many people in and out of those doors. So many Jedi all fighting and more training, more providing guidance and protection. A lost of masters and skilled individuals were lost. But only one Sith can be in power at a time, at full power. To kill your master gains you the title. Anakin…he was struggling even with the best medical aid. If he wasn’t in a bacta tank, he was…hooked up to a respirator and all kinds of support. I never asked what happened to him, but I always wondered if it happened during the attack on the temple. The one that he led.”

“But you didn’t kill him.” Din moves slightly, leaning back into the trunk of the tree he was sitting against more firmly before he helps to situate your legs across his lap. Fingers hidden in gloves trace down the length of your legs, swirling over your knees and down to where you ankles flashed as the fabric bunched up around the tops of your boots. He pulled everything back to cover you, hand tracing back up hooking around your left thigh to hold you to him. Safe, content, even as the conversation gains weight.

“No, when I found out their plans to begin the destruction of Mandalore, I intercepted the first few deployments. The first they chocked up to a mistake on the droids. The second, a judgement in error.”

A breeze picks up and makes its way through the small clearing, Din notices the way you tense and pulls you closer into his body. The beskar captures your heat from leaning against it and it warms you to feel the give of his sides in between the plates.

“Akiz, he fought alongside me. Once he was well enough, we tried our best to do what we could. But the last ship we took down, it was…too much for us to handle alone. Storm troopers managed to get a distress signal out and Moff Gideon came after us. He was lost in the crash, too injured to move without causing more damage. He…he gave me his helmet and told me to run. I barely made it out myself. The gunfire alone, the smoke, the fire, all of it was too much. But it gave some people time to get out, to relocate.”

“Is that when you fled to Tatooine?” The deep tone of his voice washed over you, the attentiveness he exhibited and the questions he had begun to seek answers to soothing your heart, your mind. He was engaging in a way he hadn’t been previously, had said he was unaccustomed to. It made you giddy, that he was willing to ask and converse with you more freely, little jokes sneaking in here and there during the lighter moments. Care and concern cloaking the darker moments.

“Figured the desert was the easiest place to get lost in. They wouldn’t send droves of people to search the sands for one person. Resources were abundant, but not enough for that. I was considered a ‘calculated loss’ at that point. The damage I did outweighing the worth I was to them.”

“I was there a few years before the Empire fell. Once I got the news, I fled home and well, you know how that turned out…”

“But you did good, took out what you could. Helped my people to get to safety, to flee.”

“I could’ve done more, I should’ve done more.” You can’t help the heat that tinges your words, emotions strong on the matter, on the memories. There was so much, so many small things that couldn’t been done or done differently. A dangerous free fall that would once awaken the dark tendrils that lay dormant in the corners of your mind. But since Maldovan, you hadn’t felt the pull of them, the motion of them slithering about and biding their time. They were gone, or at least, they didn’t seem to bother you as much.

“You did what you could, that is enough.” He assures you, his voice holding so much emotion even through the modulator. Soothing you and making sure you understand that what you did do was enough, that it was more than enough. Forsaking what could’ve been done was a dirty business and he knew it all too well.

“You and your space sword.” He jostles you a bit, hand running up and down your arm to keep you warm as another breeze flits by. He thinks he’s funny, you know this because the same rumbling chuckle sounds in his chest as when he had first used the term. There’s no use fighting the smile that pulls at your lips, affection blooming in your chest.

“Wish I had one of those pulse rifles, like you.” You can’t help the slight whine that coats your voice, it was always a lavish thought, to purchase one of your own. “Could cause some good damage with one of those.”

“I’m sure you could, mesh’la.” His laughter echoes around the small clearing and your heart skips a beat, he’s so carefree right now. So at ease and it makes you wish for more moments exactly like it.

“Your laughter makes me happy.” Voice dipping, you reach up to plant both of your hands atop his shoulders and shift to straddle his lap. There’s a twitch against the inside of your thighs that sparks flames across your skin despite the chill of the night air. “It’s such a good sound, ikaad.”

Baby.

“Is that a new nick name?” His big hands wrap around your hips, keeping you steady in his lap, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. He presses his forehead to yours, the coolness of the helmet causing a shudder to race down your spine. He pulls you flush against him, his rough action hitches your breath and it fogs up the front of the helmet.

“Do you like it?” You ask, hesitancy underlying your words even as you press your hands to the sides of his helmet and begin to lift it. Eyes closed, you can hear the compression hiss as you pull it away from him. His hands reach up, helping to guide yours to set it down beside you both. There’s a rustle of fabric, the hiss of leather and then you feel his bare fingers cradle one side of your face while the other spreads across your lower back.

He chuckles once again at the hitch of your breath, the way you worry your bottom lip between your teeth and tighten your eyes against the sensation of his skin against yours. His nose brushes yours, his lips a hairsbreadth away, the feel of them so close making you dizzy.

“Moan it into my mouth and we’ll find out.”

And then his lips are on yours.

You take a seat at the makeshift table, fingers trailing over the cabinets and side paneling that have been left open to reveal the caf maker on your way over to it. There's steam rising from the back of it, from the mechanics inside that heat up the water and transform the condensed grounds into caf. Scenting the air and making your heart calm. you hadn't loaded it up nor pressed the button to it up, but Din had.

The hush of water sounding from the fresher tells you where the man in question had disappeared to. The warmth of his body and the comfort of it pressed to had disappeared from the bed and woken you up from your deep slumber.

The helmet he dons is sitting there in the middle of the table, the beskar glowing in the low light it catches. You take a sip of your steaming drink, just a little sip before you reach for it and cradle it in your hands.

The artistry of it is immaculate. Beautiful. You see him in the visor even if he's not behind it. Feel the energy of him in it even if it's not secure over his head. It's a part of him, it's the first thing you had seen of him. It was him, in a way.

Peering inside as you tip it slightly, the panels lining the inside of it glow as the power coursing through them picks up on the energy tingling your entire body. Gentle fingers trace them, feeling the delicate and careful positioning. You didn't dare lift one up to explore underneath, not wanting to activate anything or disrupt anything on accident.

The sound of the shower shutting off barely registers as you continue to look over the precious thing in your hands. You don't know how long you do nor do you register the figure that steps out of the fresher. Eyes focused and mind at peace as your thoughts wander over the skills that went into the creation and forming of the helmet, of the man who wears it.

You wonder if...the Creed is something you would be willing to take, if given the chance.

If it had been offered to you before your master's had found you in the marketplace that fateful day of your childhood. If your mother would have been just as willing to send you away if it meant you'd give up your purchase on what little your family name had and let you go with those who sought you out. She had been hesitant with the Jedi, mulling it over for weeks before she had made the decision to let you go in search of something greater than what she could offer you on K'ath. A blacksmith's daughter, an armorer in training from her own shaping. But that didn't deter you from holding onto your adoration for the skills, the handiwork and devotion it took. You had cultivated it even amidst the jedi, their lack of need for armor or weapons at odds with the interest you held.

You had been so young, it had been a rare instance of intense interest. The man who had seen the power of the Force flowing strongly through you, the easy direction of such casual in the way you had been idly playing with shells laid out before you and the tools of your trade. And then the journey to where you are now had begun. Taken away on a long travel, the first time you had ever been in hyperspace had been something mesmerizing. You hadn’t asked many questions on the way to Coruscant, you had merely followed closely behind the Jedi Master that had seen the potential in your younger self. Even younger than those around you once you were placed amidst a group of six or seven other children. An age gap of four to five years separating you. You had only been six at the time, far too young for the world you had been taken to be a part of.

But despite that, you can recall so clearly the trainings and the meetings, endless conversations about your life and past. The attachments you may have had beyond your mother and if you had any other family they might be able to trace to see how the concentration of your blood was so strongly suited for the life that had become your own.

It had been dizzying, going from a humble life as a blacksmith’s daughter on the mostly oceanic world of K’ath.

But the Mandalorian's....they prided themselves in the armor they dressed in, created rituals around it. The metal it's comprised of was revered, respected, a culmination of everything you felt with the artistry and creation of even the most basic of metal and armor. The man that Din was, the values he held and tried his best to let guide his life...even if the bounty hunting was a little more black and white, a simple way to provide means for his remaining people, his covert...they were admirable. He was admirable. A good man. At the very core of who he was.

The Creed he had sworn...it was something you had been thinking over a lot. Asking him gentle questions here and there as you mulled over specifics and recalled memories of doing the same with Akiz. The man whose last name you had adapted while on the run with him. He hadn't offered you to take his religion, but he had taught it to you, allowed you any knowledge you had sought after to the best of his ability. But there was a clear distinction between the faction he and Din practiced and that prominent on Mandalore. That had been prominent on Mandalore. Even so...the itch was there, to explore it and consider it as an option to truly become more like the person you thought yourself to be.

There was no reason for you to seek a new identity, not now with the royalty of what was almost your life vouching for you with the New Republic and clearing whatever record you had accumulated. Din too, they had vouched for, in regards to the connection with the job you had both worked for his old crew that seemed to be ages ago now...

He's been going without it more, the helmet. When ad'ika is asleep or occupied in the upstairs cabin, his penchant for meditation picked up from you despite his smaller attention span. You had conveyed to him the feeling of the Force and calmly let it flow through your mind, pushing the feeling into his own carefully and showing him some of the faces you recall. Hoping he could practice reaching out, because you had questions too. There didn't seem to be...anyone and it was a rather lonely realization. You had knowledge, but very little from the time you had trained as a girl to the time you had spent with Moff Gideon in his base, with those who were building you up to learn the darker path...

"You look so beautiful, ner kar'ta." Din's deep, unmodulated voice breaks your silent reverie. You don't look up from the helmet in your hands, the scented steam from his wash wafting into the open space of the hold now that he's leaned up against the doorway. Heat floods your face, his unabashed compliment spurring butterflies in your stomach and tingles in your chest.

You ache for him, you had done it back on Maldovan and every day since. Even as he lays beside you each night and cares for you and adi'ka in the ways he knows how. A quiet job he's determined to keep up even in the hard moments, the low moments, the ones where your aversion to touch and conversation flares and your memory fizzles. Actual jobs were slow right now, more focused on beginning the search for other Jedi, others who had been able to devote their life to the ways you had only been beginning to.

You still hadn't looked upon his face, doubt still lingering despite everything you've been through together in nearly a year.

It is a big step, it is a big decision. Monumental, in more ways than one. Words that meant so much shared between you both, for each other. The vows he had written down in your notebook for you to look over, what he recalled from listening to his fellow people in the covert. Spoken word the only way they persevered as they did. He had wanted to share them with you, have you look over them and contemplate them. He wasn’t asking, he wasn’t pushing, it was simply a way for him to express himself and let you come to him slowly in your own time.

But you look up now and you see the shock wash over his features as your eyes take him in.

Tension fills the hold, thickening the air and the tingling in your chest grows as you greedily take in his features.

His skin is bronze all over, you've seen it before. Flashes of it about the cuffs and neckline of his suit, full swaths of it as he lay in bed beside you in his underclothes or sleepwear he’s begun to walk around in on a regular basis. Seen all of it bared, in that one instance he had indulged you in booking a stay instead of returning to the ship… Felt it before with your wandering hands, against your own skin. Both in innocent settings and some that spark thick, syrupy desire low in your middle…

Stray droplets from his wash catch the dull light as he's in nothing but a pair of flight pants, slung low on his narrow hips. Strong arms that are crossed over his chest make your stomach flip. His neck is thick, shoulders broad, skin littered with silvery scars that tell of his past. A strong jaw you only glimpsed at before is now traced by your eyes adorned with dark scruff, his plush lips parted slightly as he almost freezes in his spot. You had felt those lips on your own, the way they moved desperately against you. Conveying so much in a moment when nothing felt like it would be right ever again.

"You're beautiful too." The words are barely a whisper, but they spur him into movement. He's pushing off from the door frame and crossing the space in three long strides. His hands reach and you don't flinch as they wrap around your ribs and help to pull you up from your seat. He simply holds you as you gaze up at him, eyes taking him in and his own roving over your steadily growing smile.

He’s so beautiful, the man standing before you. The man who, when you first met, never anticipating meaning anything to you. But he’s all you want, all you need, he’s…he’s home for you. The reason behind no place ever feeling quite right, the hiding spots you created for yourself just shy of being accommodating. Off kilter in the way that the space inside his ship isn’t. He’s given you so much with his simple disregard for a bounty out on you so long ago, his own actions allowing this feeling to flourish into what it is now. He’s safety, he’s protection, he’s…he’s your heart.

“Ner kar’ta, you’re so beautiful.” You feel the rough palms of his hands rove up to cup your face, his wide eyes so brown and sparkling in a way that you were sure was reserved just for you. Thoughtful in a way most people wouldn’t expect of the man, the Mandalorian – a feared and renowned bounty hunter.

But right now he wasn’t that man, right now he was Din Djarin. The one who had helped you to reclaim your life back, to give you options when there didn’t seem to be anymore to consider. He was the one who had helped you to reclaim so much that you had lost, even things you hadn’t realized.

“You’re too kind, mesh’la,” His head ducks a bit, gaze focused on the pulse he could surely see jumping in the column of your neck. Thick curls tumble, the water still soaked into the tresses smelling so sweet and exactly like you. You can’t help the urge to reach up and run your fingers through them, delighting in the flutter of his long lashes as his eyes close. A deep hum sounds from within his chest, almost vibrating through you with now you’re held so close to him.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” And oh it’s so beautiful the way you see the wrinkles around his eyes deepen as his face breaks into an almost shy smile. Eyes wide and earnest as they flutter open in response to your whispered sentiment. The hitch of his breath visible as his chest rises with it and the way his lips nearly tremble as he dips down to capture your own. The words repeated and breathed into you as his strong nose brushes against yours and his hands curling around face. “Gar're ner yaim.”

I love you. You’re my home.

He kisses you, again and again. His lips a soft pressure that makes your heartbeat fast in your chest and you can’t help but tangle your fingers in his damp hair, returning them with as much fever. His own hands, his warm palms trail over the column of your neck to your shoulders. Stirring tingles to dance across the bare skin exposed in your sleepwear of a tank top and shorts.

 “Bal gar cuyir pal'vut.” He pulls back just enough to trail his soft lips along your jaw breathing words into the skin there. You can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck as he begins to nip and lave his tongue down your neck, seeking and praising you in the most intimate way. Your muscles shake as you resist the urge to jump up and wrap your legs around his waist, resist the urge to lean in and use your own teeth along the golden planes of his chest. As if reading your thoughts, his arms loop down below your arms, your waist and grab at the back of your thighs. Large hands so secure against the give of them he hauls you up into his hold and begins to walk you towards the open door.

Lips meet lips in deepening kisses, almost desperate and urgent as heat begins to swirl in your belly and arousal tingles brightly across every inch of skin that touches his. Small groans and panting breath bubbling up and are swallowed as his words echo in your head.

And you are mine.

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[kyberblade]

I Can Help With That (Din x Reader) - A Back To You Drabble

A/N: This is part of my Phantom 1k Celebration. It’s a combination of three requests, which can be found here, here, and here. It takes place after Part 19 of Back To You, sometime after they get Grogu back in TBoBF, and is the closest thing to smut I’ve really written. (Thanks a lot, you know who you are.) It’s really actually just spice and domestic intimacy more than anything with an implied fade to black, but…. So I’m just gonna drop this here and run. 😬 Have a nice day! (There will be a few more, less spicy, here.)

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Summary: After a messy bounty leaves your clan of three staying overnight in a dingy room on Daiyu, feelings come bubbling up that have been otherwise too scared to see the light of day.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Swearing. Space swearing. Arguing? Spoilers? (But if you’re here, you know how this works.) Lots of angst. Tears. Brief mention of injury. Reader is having a Tough Time™️ mentally, but it’s discussed and processed. As mentioned above, some spice and alluded to Fun Times. (They are in the shower together, per the request, so nudity? But it’s not discussed? Not really?) Helmetless Din. What? Who said that?

Word count: 4,913

Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex for reading this over a bazillion times and not strangling me when I stressed over five words not being exactly what I wanted.

(Tagging @grippingbeskar and @darkroastjoel, these are yours.)

Xxx

It hadn’t taken long for you to find out that Din enjoyed lingering touches.

He always found an excuse for his hand to be on your lower back, guiding you through crowded markets, wooded planets; curling around your waist and holding you tight to his side to keep you warm when the temperature dropped lower.

His fingers found their practiced patterns quickly, tracing laps around your upper arm, your hip. Racing up and down your forearm until goosebumps rose along every surface he’d dared to trace.

He wasn’t satisfied until you’d shudder from the lightest touches, groan into his cowl as his fingers kneaded into a sore muscle in your neck, or your breath would hitch as his hand closed around your own. 

Though the Crest was small, he made it smaller still, crowding into your space whenever he deemed you had too much of it. 

Whenever you worked on a panel, digging through wires, you’d feel him hovering just behind you, a breath away from sealing his chest along your spine.

If you laid on the floor to work in the cramped space under the console, a mess of wires hanging in your face, you’d sense his presence looming near your feet, the toes of his boots resting against the heels of your own.

Sometimes when you’d tucked the kid in at night, watching his eyes droop more and more slowly as you gently rocked his hammock back and forth, humming a soft tune, you’d feel the temperature of the hull rise as his shadow crossed over you soundlessly, cutting out the little light the Crest had to offer. A smirk would twist its way up your face as you felt him hovering nearer.

Tonight was one of those nights.

So it was no surprise when he let out a hum of amusement as you turned into his chest after closing the door to the cot and a sleeping Grogu.

You both played the game, still, like this wasn’t the easiest thing either of you had ever fallen into. Still tiptoeing around the other as if nothing had been said, no secrets had been shared, no Creeds broken. That last thought sobered you up every time it crossed your mind, making your breath catch in your chest.

Pushing away thoughts of Creeds and Mandalore, you grinned up at him, resting your chin against his chest plate to keep your gaze steady. 

“What’s this?” He mumbled as your arms circled around his back, disengaging his jet pack.

“Love and affection.” The pack swung your arm down, pulling an oomph out of you. Setting it down to the side with a thump, you smirked up at him, circling your arms back around his waist slowly, chin once again perched on his beskar. “Deal with it.”

“Mesh’la, you don’t want to do that….” He groaned, melting into your embrace, but also trying to lean back at the same time.

You hummed, face scrunched in mock displeasure. “You should know by now you shouldn’t tell me what to do. It doesn’t work….”

Din snorted. “No, mesh’la, I mean….” He extricated himself from your grip, delicately pushing your arms away as he pulled the rest of his body back with a small twisting maneuver. “I need to shower. That last bounty wasn’t a, er….” He hesitated, his voice going tight. “A clean kill.”

Narrowing your brows at him, you lifted your eyes to study him from head to toe, finding no trace of anything on his beskar. “You don’t look dirty.” Closing the distance once again with a single step forward, you lifted his arms up to peer under them as if that would reveal the dirt and grime in question, bending forward slightly to get a better look. Next was his cape. You tilted to the side dramatically to see underneath.

He snapped it out of your hands, spinning out of your hold and took several steps away before turning to face you again. “You wouldn’t see anything. The blood is bioluminescent. You’d need to kick on the-”

“Oh! The special work lights, yeah.” You were already moving toward the ladder up to the cockpit. “They are in my tool box, I’ll go get the-”

“No!” You stopped at his abrupt protest, one hand on a ladder rung by your head, one foot already about to push up a rung, but it slipped off with a soft thunk when you turned to look at him with raised brows. “No,” he offered again, this time softer. “You’re not gonna want to do that.” His voice lowered. “Trust me.”

You hesitated. Despite him trying to keep away, you took a step closer, brows knit together in confusion. “Why?”

He shifted his weight from side to side, voice tight in apprehension. “‘Cause now it’s on you, too.”

Holding your arms out to the sides, slowly, you looked down at your body that looked the same as it did five minutes ago, only now, it felt like you were caked in filth. Looking back up into his visor, you ignored his hands held up to try and placate you, voice raising with each word. “You could have warned me!”

“I tried!” Din almost whined, exasperated, taking a step back to maintain the distance he had tried to create. “I really did,” he added softly.

Eyes fluttering shut, you took a deep breath before letting it out through your nose. Your voice had lowered back to something closer to normal when you spoke again; hands gesturing smally, still out at your sides as you did. “Let’s just go to the room and get a shower. You go first, leave your armor outside the fresher door and I’ll clean it while you’re in there-”

“We don’t need to go all the way back to the room. I can use the sink here on the ship-” Din stopped short when your eyes flew open, landing on him with a hard stare. He sighed, the sound resigned. “Let’s get going, then. It’s at least half a mile to get there….”

You nodded, small smirk working its way up one side of your face. “Thank you.” After you began to gather a few things, you mused to him proudly, “Aren’t you glad I convinced you to get a room?” He grunted, making you scoff softly and roll your eyes before turning back to the satchel you were packing. “I mean, it’s not every day we’re on….” Your hand froze midway into the bag, the other clutching the strap of it tightly. Keeping your eyes on the bag, you didn’t dare to lift them back up as you studied its weave hoping it held your answers.

With a sigh, you lifted your head and shut your eyes briefly before cutting your gaze Din’s way, making sure to narrow your eyes preemptively. 

He slowly swiveled his visor up to level you with a look. “You don’t even know where we are?” His tone was incredulous. One hip popped out to the side, his head tilting to the side as he stared at you. 

“I know,” you defended, inclining your chin to peer down your nose at him before turning your attention back to the bag.

Arms crossed over his chest, he stood up straight, keeping the glare of his visor squarely on you. “You should. You picked it out.”

Making your way over to the bunk, satchel across your chest, you jumped in to correct him. “No, technically the bounty did.” You hesitated. “I only picked the puck. Which was all you. You said I was lucky or something. So this is technically on you.”

Tossing his head with a groan, Din turned away from you, grabbing the essentials while you grabbed the kid.

“Daiyu!”

Din spun around to see the kid blinking bleary eyes up at you as you looked down at him apologetically, one finger held up beside your head for emphasis.

Lifting your eyes back up to meet the T of Din’s visor, you shrugged one shoulder sheepishly, mumbling. “Daiyu, I remembered.”

Xxx

Once you got into the room, the kid had promptly fallen back asleep, allowing you to seal him safely away in his floating cradle for the night.

Turning to face Din, hands on your hips, you watched him set the bags of supplies down on a small table in the corner. “Want any help taking the armor off?”

“No, I’ll manage,” he spoke softly, not looking up at you once. His gaze stayed down toward the table, his visor angled toward the smooth surface. With a quiet groan, he walked to the other side of the room and began removing the armor piece by piece. It collected against the wall beside the fresher door in a small pile, a soft thunk with each new piece as the tower of beskar grew.

You watched in silence from across the room, sorting mindlessly through the bag of rations. He moved so stiffly once he began to set the armor down, his movements stilted and slow, like every breath was an effort. Din twisted to the side, puffing up his chest to try and keep it from you, but you noticed. The quarry must have gotten him somehow. The closer you looked, the more you saw; he had a slight hitch in his step and favored his left side more than his right, bracing on the door frame as he passed through to start the water in the shower.

Since he’d removed his helmet for Grogu and you’d seen his face, he’d been a lot less careful about taking it off in front of you. He still kept it on most of the time, it was after all what he was used to, and you didn’t mind that at all. But the few times he removed it, like right now, you found your eyes straying away from his face, unable to look without an obvious invitation. It still felt like something forbidden.

That’s why when his bare forehead pressed against yours, it caught you off guard and made you jump.

He chuckled. “Sorry.” In nothing but his flight suit, sleeves pushed up his forearms, he crowded into your space like he always did, bringing his right hand up to cup your cheek. His left arm wound around your waist to pull you tight, as his breath fanned across your face.

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” he agreed, words overlapping your own eagerly as he shook his head against yours, his nose brushing against your own. The smile pulling up the side of his face was contagious, and it tugged up your cheek under the soft ministrations of his thumb.

You expected him to back you into a wall like he usually did, but the two of you stood quietly in the middle of the room, simply being. It was nice to have a moment to just breathe.

Your arms made their way up to wrap around his neck, nearly all the way around when he hissed, sucking air in through his teeth as he flinched away from you. Cradling both cheeks in your hands, you held his face firmly as your eyes scanned over every part of him you could see for any obvious injury.

“Din? What is it? What hurts?”

His eyes stayed downcast, almost in shame, his chin tucked down toward his chest.

“Din?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled. You’d grown used to his unmodulated voice recently, but you weren’t used to this tone. Dejected. Broken. Subdued.

You simply blinked a few times, scanning his face for any sign of what was wrong, besides the obvious, while he leaned to his left just slightly, enough that you noticed. “Din…. What?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” He cleared his throat, bringing his hands up to thread his fingers through yours and lift them off his face. He gave you a gentle squeeze before he let go. His movements were soft and kind, but left no room for question.

Eyes never pulling up from the floor, Din rubbed the back of his neck in something that looked like nerves, then turned toward the fresher, disappearing behind the door as it hissed shut behind him.

Xxx

You waited a few minutes before you followed him, the soft drone of running water filling the room with a constant hum. Leaving your vambraces with his pile of armor by the fresher door, you smiled softly as you surveyed the large pile of beskar. We’ll clean them in the morning.

After you made sure the room was secure, the kid tucked away in his cradle fast asleep, you stripped down the rest of the way, before wrapping yourself in a towel provided by the room. The fresher door opened with a wave of your hand, a wall of steam curling out like you’d relieved some sort of exhaust pressure. 

Walking silently into the room like Din had taught you, you closed the door behind you with a wave of your hand, the unseen force causing the steam to swirl in fascinating tendrils in the process.

Your Mandalorian was tucked away in the shower, his back to you, oblivious to your presence as you watched him, studying him from head to toe with more than just your eyes to make sure he was okay. You reached out through the Force to try and read him, something he always made so easy for you, he was an open book, but right now, he was closed off. 

Furrowing your brow, you set your towel off to the side and walked closer toward the shower stall.

Din was leaning on his hands against the wall, his silhouette behind the glass dividing the shower from the rest of the room obscured from the steam already billowing around the edges.

His breathing looked labored, every breath an effort as he stood deep in thought.

He obviously hadn’t wanted you to see him like this. Battered, probably bruised. You knew it all amounted to one thing in his eyes. He felt broken.

Stepping under the spray, you blinked twice as stray droplets hit your lashes.

Din was so distracted he still didn’t even know you were here, leaning forward against the opposite wall of the shower, hands braced against the cool wall, head hung low between rounded shoulders.

Reaching out slowly, you lightly traced your fingertips up his left side, pausing when he went stiff. “It’s just me,” you muttered quietly, your right hand coming up to race against your left along his ribs. 

Spreading your fingers out so your whole hand could dance along his skin, gliding along with the water droplets cascading down his sides, you pressed more firmly into him, stepping closer.

In the dim light of the shower stall you could see bruises blooming along his rib cage, contrasting brilliantly under your fingertips and against his warm skin tone.

“These are new.” Keeping your voice quiet, you let your eyes find the rest without your hands having to trace their paths.

He only grunted in acknowledgment.

“I can help with that, you know.”

“No,” he said instantly. After shifting his weight back and forth for a moment, he turned his head just slightly to look at you over his shoulder before looking back forward, and lowered his voice. “No.” Din shook his head for emphasis, his fingers flexing against the wall.

Resting your chin against his spine, careful to avoid the bruises, you wrapped your arms around to rest on his chest, bending over to drape yourself over him like a blanket. “How come?”

“That always tires you out so much.” His hands flexed again. “Plus….”

After waiting for him to go on, you pushed gently. “Yeah?”

“Plus…. When you do too much of that stuff…. Sometimes it…. Changes you….”

“How so?”

He took a deep breath, pushing off the wall to stand up straighter, unable to straighten all the way as one of the bruises pulled his spine forward slightly. You kept your arms around him, your body pressed tightly to his as you felt his heartbeat pick up under your palm.

Closing your eyes, you reached out through the Force, offering him some of your light to mend his darkness, the battered and broken skin along his sides mending back to a warm shade of health. 

His pulse rose even more under your fingers, and he sighed in frustration. “Mesh’la….”

“What’s one more time,” you mumbled into his shoulder blade, tucking your face into his spine whether to hide away or simply because it made you feel safer, you didn’t know. “I don’t like seeing you hurt, Din. I’m not going to break from healing the ones I love.” You turned so just your forehead was resting against his back. “At least I don’t think.” Your voice was barely a whisper.

Din only nodded after a moment. He understood. He didn’t like it, but he understood. Another sigh passed his lips as he brought one hand up to pat yours over his heart lightly, pulling it up to kiss your palm before placing it back on his chest. Then he put his hand back on the wall in front of him. Almost like a reflex. You were there, so he had to reach out and touch you somehow. It made the corner of your mouth quirk up if only for a second before it fell once again.

A long moment of silence stretched between you two until you finally ventured again, “You never explained. How? What is it that changes in me?”

Din kept staring at the wall in front of him, his voice echoing off the shower stall when he finally spoke again, but barely loud enough to be heard over the quiet drone of the running water.

“Sometimes…. Sometimes there’s a darkness to you. I don’t think you’re aware of it, it’s definitely not a conscious decision, but this…. Thing takes over, and your eyes…. They look cold.”

“When?” Your hands moved back to his rib cage. “When was the last time you saw it?”

“With Gideon. At first I thought it was just some sort of fierce protectiveness. But when you held your saber at his throat, I could feel it.” His hands came up over yours and squeezed softly, pulling them back around his chest to place them over his heart again. “The room shifted. You went somewhere dark.”

Resting your forehead against his shoulder blade, you took a deep, shuddering breath, before bringing your mouth to simply rest against his skin. Breathing as slowly as you could through your nose, your eyes screwed tightly shut, you focused on the things around you.

The smell of the soap from the room. The smell that was undeniably him that no amount of scrubbing could remove. The heat from the water. The warmth of his hold on your hands. The comfort of his body pressed into yours.

“Mesh’la?” He asked quietly after a moment, gently squeezing your hands still held in his. 

“I’m fine,” you whispered. “That’s…. It’s…. I’m not….” Your breath caught in your throat, another sharp inhale coming to a sudden stop making your eyes screw even more tightly shut. You couldn’t tell if it was from the shower or if you were crying, but droplets were cascading down your cheeks.

Din wasted no time, turning in your hold and gently pressing you into the wall, his forehead resting against yours as your spine sealed against the cold tile, making you gasp. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally managed on a broken whisper.

“That’s not-”

“No, it is,” you cut him off, opening your eyes to stare blankly forward, catching a glimpse of his facial hair but not daring to look any higher. Not brave enough to see what you’d find there. “It means I am not in as much control as I thought. And…. That’s not safe. For any of us. I need to do better.”

“Then I’ll help you,” Din mumbled, leaning further into you, his arms circling around your waist to pull you tighter as he simultaneously pressed you further into the cold tile wall. It was a sharp contrast, his warm skin at your front, the cold wall at your back, and somewhere in the middle the warm water of the shower melding it all together in a sea of steam. It was hard to tell where he ended and you began. Every bit of him a part of every bit of you. “We both will.”

“No, Din. No.” You shook your head, rocking it back and forth against the wall, only stopping when Din pressed his forehead more firmly into yours. Swallowing roughly, you let your eyes close tightly once again. “That’s not…. It’s not the kid’s place. Or yours.” Swallowing again to try and keep the emotions down and away from your steadily wobbling voice, you sniffled before going on. “This is something I need to do on my own.”

“Dank farrik, mesh’la!” Din hissed, one hand leaving your waist to hit the wall beside your head in frustration, making you jump. You shushed him, shaking your head slightly as he mumbled gentle apologies, his hand coming back to snake around your waist where it belonged. “Don’t you see? That’s why this is a problem!”

Opening your eyes, you still hadn’t quite found the strength to look up, but you did it anyway, deciding you’d rather just see whatever was waiting for you and face it straight on than let it torment you in the back of your mind from quiet shadows.

Warm brown eyes were waiting for you, relief washing over them as they crinkled at the sides from the tentative smile crawling up his face.

No judgment, no disappointment, no fear, only something that resembled hope as they traced the lines of your face in search of something you weren’t quite sure.

“That’s why,” he reiterated, arms squeezing you gently for emphasis. “You’ve been trying to do all of this alone, and you can’t.”

Your eyes fell down to his chest and you sighed, pulling your head away from his and leaning away slightly. “Din-”

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying it can’t.” Lifting your eyes back up to his, you found him tilting his head slightly to try and catch your gaze again. He smirked slightly when he did. “This is something that’s meant to be shared. From what I’ve seen, Jedi aren’t solitary creatures. At least they aren’t supposed to be. The ones that are left have adapted after years of training.”

You couldn’t help the grin that was working its way up your face. “A Mandalorian and a Jedi…. What could go wrong?”

“You're forgetting the fifty year old Jedi baby.”

“Ah yes, and the fifty year old Jedi baby,” you chuckled.

“And the answer is, I’m sure, absolutely everything.” You huffed, rolling your eyes as he reached for the shampoo. “But until then, we’re still covered in bioluminescent blood, so….” Squeezing some of the liquid onto his palm, he pulled your hand from where it rested on his waist to in between you and put some in your waiting palm as well. “….for now, I’ll help you if you’ll help me?”

You hummed in amusement. “Oh, poor Mandalorian. I think I finally found the one thing your armor can’t do.”

“Nah.” He shook his head, scrunching his face up. “I’m sure I could find a way to figure it out. It’s just….” He groaned as your fingers started to massage the shampoo into his damp hair, making your grin grow.

“It’s just….” You repeated, teasingly.

“You do it so much better,” he finished on a sigh, his forehead coming to rest on your shoulder with a thump, giving you easier access to continue working it into his curls.

“What about me? I thought this was a you help me if I help you thing? You even have shampoo in your ha-” You’re cut short when his hand comes up and plops the glob of soap on your hair, making your jaw drop. 

“I’ll do it after. There’s a whole bottle. Just…. Please?” He was almost whining by the end, leaning further into you. His head turned so his lips were pressed into the crook of your neck. “Please, please, please….”

Suddenly you felt him drifting, the scruff of his facial hair prickling the skin near your clavicle as he chased it with soft kisses. Working his way across toward your other shoulder, your fingers stalled in his hair as you sighed.

“If you keep doing that, I’m not gonna be able to keep going.”

Din hummed into the crook of your neck, the vibrations tickling the skin as he began his climb upward toward your ear. His words were mumbled into your skin, causing goosebumps to spring up all over despite the still hot water. “Won’t be able to keep doing what?”

“This,” you said through gritted teeth, tugging on his hair to pull him away from your neck and send him a playful glare.

Din smirked as he leaned further back into the spray of the shower to rinse the suds from his hair, shaking his head and tossing droplets everywhere before he was back at your side. You could feel his lips turning up into a smile as they brushed against the shell of your ear, his nose tucked into your hair. “Then don’t.”

His unmodulated voice was something you’d never quite get used to, no matter what you told yourself, particularly so close to you and so quiet.

“Turn around,” he murmured, his hands smoothing down your sides to land on your hips. Gently applying pressure to reorient you with your back to him, he nudged you under the spray of the shower.

“This better be the part when you wash my hair, Tin Can,” you teased playfully.

“We’re getting there,” he rumbled quietly. “But first….” His hands left your hips, his body following after them, and despite the warmth of the water, you found yourself already missing the heat that always radiated off of him in waves.

You began to realize all the times you leaned into his quiet touches, while you told yourself it was just to appease him, to speak his language, it was every bit for yourself as well. It made you feel safe. Every time his arms silently wound around you, he lingered at your back, hovered at your side, or you felt his eyes quietly watching from across the room…. It was the safety you’d never felt anywhere else that you craved. 

The warmth that encased you, that trailed over your skin with just a look, a brush of a hand in passing. You craved it. He was your addiction. And you were longing for a hit.

Taking a step back toward him in search of his warmth, you only made it half a stride before bumping into him, both of you chuckling as his hands came out to steady you on your upper arms.

“Can I help you?” He drawled.

“Uh,” you eloquently said, staring straight forward as you searched for the words, any words. “Was just looking for the soap.”

Din chuckled knowingly. “I’ve got it, mesh’la.” He dropped his chin down to rest on your shoulder. “But you knew that.”

Tilting your head back to look down your nose at the wall of the shower in front of you, you huffed. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

The Mandalorian turned his face down into your skin, circling his arms around your waist to hold you close. As he peppered gentle kisses across your left shoulder blade, he offered a compromise between each one. “Well. You know…. The kid’s gonna wake up soon. And I already used the soap. Haven’t rinsed it off yet. We could…. Share.”

The slide of his skin against yours sent a shiver down your spine, his huff of amusement next to your ear making you grin. 

“We should do this more often.”

You groaned as his fingers began to massage shampoo into your hair.

“You won’t hear me complaining,” his voice was soft, tucked into your neck as he massaged the soap into your roots.

“That means getting a room more often,” you mused, leaning further back into him, your grin of amusement growing at his grumble of annoyance. “Less bumbling around the Crest, camping on backwater planets, hiding out on-”

“If I told you,” he cut in, his voice conspiratorial, “that I know all the good spots-”

“Spots?”

He pinched your hip before continuing pointedly. “Yes, all the spots, on all the backwater planets, as you so nicely called them. Some beautiful waterfalls…. Hot springs…. They’re no dingy Daiyu room shower, but-”

You turned in his grip, arms coming up around his neck as you leaned your forehead against his. “They sound wonderful, Din.”

He grinned. “Then it’s settled. Next place we stop, I’ll take you on a tour of all my favorite places.” He leaned forward, brushing his nose against yours. “Well, they used to be my favorite. Now I have a new one.”

Slowly rolling up onto the balls of your feet, cinching your arms around him tighter, you huffed out a quiet laugh. “Oh yeah? And where’s that?”

The sneaky smile turning up his face continued to grow as he leaned closer to you, his lips ghosting over yours as he whispered, “I’ll just let you take a wild guess,” before they pressed firmly to yours.

Xxx

Tags to come!

[helpinghanikan]

Star Wars: Kinktober 2023

Day 3: Face sitting (Din Djarin)

Kinktober Masterlist

As far as anyone was concerned Din was as conservative as anyone in the galaxy. Barely anyone has seen a Mandalorian without the helmet. Those that have either refuse to say what’s under it or change the answer every time.

For now, you were still in that first group. Sex hasn’t changed that either. So it was a bit of a shock when he asked you to sit on his face.

Not one to say no, you were already getting your pants off.

Your eyes were squeezed shut while Din guided you into position. When you opened them you were facing the wall of your little sleeping cubby. Although everything inside of you was screaming to lean back and get a quick look. But you weren’t the kind to take advantage.

“If it becomes too much, you better tap.” You warned him, lowering yourself down onto his face.

He was going to say something stupid; you just knew it. This was the only reason you had to place yourself down faster than you would have any other time. Hearing Din say something like; ‘this is the way’ when it comes to dying by pussy wasn’t how you wanted the evening to go.

He manages to moan out a “careful,” when you press down. His hands, free of gloves and warm as the sun, hold your thighs tightly. Squeezing them and trying to move you himself since it was hard to give you direction.

You were already hot and wet just from the suggestion. His tongue licking through your lower lips was a great start. Experimenting with your hip moving, rolling forward and back against his mouth. Letting how tightly he holds your thighs be the guide for how fast you should be moving. By the way he was holding you, he seemed to be pretty okay with you moving fast and hard as you want.

“Din, oh my God!” You call out as his tongue slides into you.

The cubby has always been too small for more than one person. Add in the nights where both you and Din sleep and the air is way too stuffy to breathe correctly. Add in when Grogu snuggles with the two of you and it’s a hard place to sleep in.

None of those times were compared to now. But you didn’t really care about the heat.

The orgasm is building from your crotch upwards. A warmth that tingles through your body until it reaches your fingers. It wasn’t like a normal orgasm when Din pounds into you from behind. That was like trying to land a plan. Focusing on all the little things that have to come together to make the climax happen.

In this instance, it’s all Din’s doing. Yes, you're moving your hips, but he had to get you to cum. It creates a sort of power he has over you.

That power starts to expand into an orgasm. Shaking through your chest and fogging up your head. The orgasm took the wind from your chest, gasping and moaning out. Your hips rocking through the orgasm until, by miracle, Din taps out.

“Good job,” You panted, maneuvering yourself off of him.

It’s only due to the force of habit that your eyes closed. You sit against the wall while Din rustles around the room, getting his helmet back on. Only then does he come closer; cool metal pressing against your forehead in an affectionate gesture.

“I’ll be sure to thank Fett when we get back.” He says, pulling you close against him.

[court-jobi]

Just Be Gentle

Pairing: Paz Viszla x reader (fem!reader, 'Songbird' for the use in the fic)

Words: 3,589

Rating: Teen+

Warnings: post-mission, light banter, mutual pining, mild!grumpy/sunshine, FLUFF, tender touching, teaching self-care, injury care, washing up- (not spicy yet, sorry loves) cuddles if you squint

Summary: He is a Cornerstone in his own right. The moment the Hunter dropped her off to him, she knew instantly by the reactions of everyone around her that this was a leader they respected, followed into the grittiest of scraps, because he’s the man with the biggest gun and equal fire. They call him Al’orad, their Top gunman, and always, brother. And brothers, well– he sure fought to protect them as only family would.

Paz Vizsla is the storm itself. Only now, it seems he got caught in the crosshairs and succumbed to the hurricane of the skirmish. It didn’t worry him, he’s patched up his own scrapes before.An immovable Mandalorian he may be, but she his Songbird– gentle soul who’d sooner see to his wounds herself than watch him treat himself so roughly any longer.

A/N: Special thanks to @newpathwrites for the original ask! Here's to you~ The response to my Paz thoughts inspired me to finish this one out the rest of the way, and was a joy to write. If you're like me and still reeling from the episode which must not be named, then you'll be glad to know PAZ LIVES ON IN FIC! This was written in third person as a practice for me, but please put yourself in Songbird's shoes in whatever race, kind or creed you claim. It's a big galazy, so imagine along with me~ edit: @newpath3432!

For my Star Wars | Mandalorian Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on A03

She could tell by the slight limp: Big Blue was hurt. He walked the earth with a strong presence, and now that presence hobbled with a case of the hiccups. It would be funny, if it weren’t stemming from a place of clear pain. Wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it, but he can’t avoid the obvious. 

When he started walking into a lean towards the pillar in the dank entrance to the covert, she walked even faster. The heavy artillery strapped to his back in coils was slipping. Speeding up to a light jog, she caught him fast by the elbow– flitted past the other sentries like the little Songbird she is, straight to his side to corral him by the arm.

"THeRe you are.."

Her name flowed off his tongue when he realized she’d snuck up on him; not that the Mandalorian ever really used it. By the way she’d been caught humming at all hours of the day and night, she’d come to earn the nickname ‘Songbird’ around the dank halls of Nevarro’s underground lava flats.

There’s barely a point trying to hide someone as tall, broad, and vast as him; as her blue-armored warrior claims the attention of everyone in any room he enters… but perhaps for just a minute, she could manhandle his form so that he’d blend into the support column on the other side. To keep him behind it, and out of sight for only a quick once-over.

He is a Cornerstone in his own right. Both a buoy in the sea and a lighthouse on a hill. The moment the Hunter dropped her off to him, she knew instantly by the reactions of everyone around her that this was a leader they respected and would gather arms with him into the grittiest of scraps. They call him Al’orad, their Top gunman, and always, brother. ‘You couldn’t be in better hands,’ the one she’d later call Din Djarin had said:

Paz Vizsla is the storm itself and brings the fire befitting a Mandalorian. Only now, it seems some of the fire has caught him.

He halted at her first call to him, yet followed into her tug willingly. A testament to their unexpected orbit; Paz found himself biting his tongue and falling into her draw whenever she sought him out even though he’s twice her size– just as she could pick his boisterous call out of a crowd and would come to stand alongside him as if no one were watching. For her, stepping out under everyone’s helmeted attention took an uncharacteristic flare of courage- one that Paz brought out in her.

Under the arch, the Alor’ad was quite literally pulled from the roster of tasks in his mind to her will. That stern look in her usually tender eyes siphoned his full attention.  How they never failed to stare right where his would be.

Paz greeted her with his immediate sense of concern.

"--shouldn't you be inside?" he braced an arm against the pillar ledge, relaxed.

"Shouldn't you be in the med tent?" Her eyes flickered across him: around his belt, to holster, and up again.

"I'm just fine."

"Paz."

He pressed a hand over hers, where she’d gripped the lip of his chest plate. "I will go when the others are seen to.”

“You need to be seen to!”

“Our healers are few; they’re overwhelmed.” Paz’s firm words -though delivered peaceably- commanded this conversation. “Those who suffered entry wounds receive attention first. My injuries are not urgent."

"You're limping; I could see it a mile away, and that's no good to anyone if you're ignoring your own problems,” she stressed again, “Play ‘Mr. Defender’ to your tribe all you want, but you’re fooling yourself if you think you can serve them at your best in this shape..."

He paused, looking back to her again and winced internally at the level of quiet care she was pleading to him.

"In my experience,  I know you Mandos tend to shrug off anything short of a lost limb when it comes to pain,” Songbird’s a natural at this; making a case. She spoke her peace with a rein on her temper. “I'd prefer to see it not get to that point. You're no exception… and you're the strongest one I know." she admitted.

Against impropriety’s warning bells in his bucket, Paz cupped her cheek, mindful of the rough leather to not irritate her. It’s indulgent, but he risks it.

"I'll be there soon,” he promises, “I give you my word, if you'll believe it."

"I want to, Blue," she offered with a gentle warning.

"Then keep me accountable. You’ll find me sitting in that alcove in ten minutes. If I'm not..." His head quirked with a little show of amusement, "You have my permission to drag me by my shebs there."

Sure enough, he did– true to his word, once his offloading task was completed. 

The covert’s Song remained under the awning of the covert’s med tent in the karyai as she watched Paz’s still-armored self being seen and treated on the left triage station. There she waited for him, until he reemerged with a hand to her shoulder in greeting. She squeezed it, asked if he was good to go, and he was all too ready to agree to some downtime. To seal the deal, she offered an arm around his back and he willingly outstretched his across her shoulders. 

It would be pointless to assume she’s honestly bearing any weight, but her offer to help was received kindly, as if he did. Then again, the way Paz spoke of her to the others in his faction, she knew he believed her capable of heart.

Then, with every grace like a nesting dove, she moved independently in his space like it was second nature, despite her only having been here one or two other times as emergency demanded it. A sealed bacta patch had been applied to the slope of his neck on one side, but after inspection, they’d hardly cleaned him up much. She'd located clean handcloths and a pitcher since they were ready and prepared at a moment’s notice on Paz's galley counter.

The question of what the case for water was at the front table lingered at her tongue, but it left her completely as she heard Paz grunt on sitting, one leg extended further than the other. He busied himself with smaller huffs of effort trying to get his armor off.

"Do you need help?" She offered gently, not wanting to coddle the grown man before her.

“M’fine. It's-- (ah) tricky, anyway. Faster if I do it." 

But even as he turned to wince and release the back plate with no success, she’d stepped over to him and released the clasp with a few well-placed fingertips. It unlocked easily and loosened into his lap. He turned a bit -until the woman he’d come to adore came into his visor’s view- to see a smile finally eased across her features.

"I've watched Djarin work it enough times, I could wear a kit myself. May I?"

Just the sound of that one word alone sunk a ballast into Paz's stomach worse than the fight did. Not even the clan he was folded into–she knew his first. His low tone shared such, though she took it as tiredness at first,

"You know his name."

"Hm? Oh, yes! I do know," she piped up. "It was the two of us drifting out on the Belt for so long, I think he took pity on me. Only so many times I would say 'hey you' before he felt bad for me, I think. Just calling him ‘Mando’ like everyone else seemed odd after a while– especially since he said I’d be meeting more soon; even that was never going to last as a nickname around a covert of them."

Paz only hummed. The clear picture of familiarity came to mind, how their months were spent  in the time before him buzzed around his jealous thoughts uncomfortably. That nasty inkling of jealousy seeped into her sharing of stories of him. 

But her lightness never wavered as she kept speaking–she simply moved her way to take care of his shoulder pauldrons next.

"--but he did tell me that's not the case everywhere, telling a non-mandalorian their name... He asked for discretion, so I never speak it around anyone else. Said it was fine here though, that you would call each other by clan name or given, so. Uhm.. where do you keep these?"

Paz turned to see her cradling one piece under each arm, one contoured to her breast, and the other gently in the crook of her elbow - hands full with the inner paddings of both. He leaned forward a touch, drew up a bottle of some solvent from the crate nearest him, and squirted some into the basin of water. 

"In there is fine.."

She emptied her arms, and noticing he made no move to continue disarmoring himself, she kept going in his stead. She imagined he'd probably never had someone tasked to do this for him, and perhaps enjoyed the doting behind closed doors. 

"Secret ingredient?" Song pried.

"It's an old recipe; cleans the armor without stripping it." He leaned back to where he was before, widening his legs for her to step between if she needed. “The alchemical reaction requires a tub to dilute the concentrate. Too strong and potent on its own, it would oxidize on contact without water."

“You’re on the wrong planet for that.” She grimaced with a jerk towards the window, the lava flats beyond.

“All the more reason for us to keep sentries by the reserve tanks. It is precious.”

Huffing a bit, she chuckled. "I can tell. oof- but that smell would be strong on a ship."

He hummed back to agree, and in a rare show of comfort as the weight of beskar was taken from him piece by loving piece, spoke, "...You're good at this."

She shrugged, a little tone in her voice. 

"Yeah, Din came back half dead after a run-in with a pack of Trandoshans on Ord Mantell, so that was a trial by fire I won't forget. I had to do it all myself. He could barely talk, his concussion was so bad- oh gods, I was terrified the whole time, because I knew I needed to check to see if any bits were cutting into him between the plates. But also figured because of the Creed, I thought he might have to kill me once I was done. Had to weigh the options for a sec, but really, he was too passed out to notice. When he woke up the next day he was mortified, poor baby.. Felt bad that I had to manage on my own, but he didn't care at all that I had seen actual skin." 

Her eyes twinkled and she smirked at what happened next. 

"I told him I was flattered of course, but I wouldn't have peeked.. if for no other reason, then out of respect for that sweetheart he's got on Sorgan."

–And thank the MAKER for that sweetheart on Sorgan.

But rather than scream his relief, Paz laughed it out to cover up his anxious nerves. 

"Sorgan, huh? Isn't that planet just a bunch of fishing holes?"

“Farms of them, apparently.” His elbows were now exposed, and next, the vambraces.

“So Djarin was wooed.. by a farmer.”

"Mhm," she removed the second, slipping out the lining and gloves to wash. "Widowed, with a cute little daughter who has eyes for the nugget- sweet guy was done for. She started leaving him his meals out for him on a hot plate the first night, so he wouldn't have to eat it cold. He still denies it," she rolled her eyes, "--but he said if he had the chance, he'd love to 'teach the little ones how to hunt one day’. Tell them more stories since so much has happened since we last stopped there. He'd make a good retiree. Deserves someone like her." 

She seemed full of nothing but pride as she spoke. However, soon the sentimental coles turned impressed.

"And hell, she's a real catch if her shot is any indication. No wonder he was so gone on her. So... Who knows?"

She busied herself with turning the gloves back inside out to wash and knelt to start on his boots, but froze looking up when Paz asked, 

"And you? Anyone else on Sorgan?"

"No. Not into farmers." she didn't look up, but shrugged, "Nothing Sorgan could offer me." She leveled out her mouth oddly, “...Might find it here, though."

"Is that so?" 

"mhm..." She finished loosening one and yanked it off with a little give before moving to the hurt one, more carefully. 

"If I can get 'im to quit getting banged up," she groused adorably, "maybe, just maybe I might find a Mandalorian to put up with me long enough…." 

Attentive as always, Song remained mindful of his breathing to ensure she wasn't jostling too much. 

"Might have to learn how to shoot better though. Those weapons are everything to you. I doubt anyone around here would take on a civvie like me as I am." She looked up and leaned into deprecating humor with a shy look. "M'not exactly the strongest either even though I’m light on the feet. That won’t do much good around here.. And I have a pretty bad mouth to get myself in trouble enough as it is."

This worry under the surface– not unlike a turtleduck spending its days furiously pedaling under the water, but looking ever too graceful on the surface. Naturally, the covert’s Songbird herself made counting her faults look like preening.

Paz chuckled.

"That's hardly a bad thing." He eased her worries. "Shooting can be taught. It's things like that ‘smart mouth’ that draw someone in. Catch someone's eye and ear."

How dare her heart give her that much hope…

"Y'think so?" She loosened his knee braces, doing her best not to ogle the strength of his legs in such close proximity. Surely he’s being too kind.

"I listened to you, didn't I? The list of those who can manage that feat is very short– ask anyone here…”

This seemed to humor her at least, if not outright pleasing her, and she shuffled back up to her feet, taking the cloth he'd been wiping his hands with and taking it with the dirty clothes. 

He'd shed his shirt too in the space while she talked-- and she hid her surprise the moment her back turned and her ears burned with the sight. 

Thick arms matched his thicker-than-durasteel legs, and strong ones– they’re downright gorgeous like the rest of him… but when she looked back, a tremor of panic surfaced, seeing how rough he was wiping along his patches from the nurses station, and she hurried back to his side right away to remedy that,

"--hey, easy!"

Paz looked up with surprised and she second guessed her urgency, coming back calmer.

"Y’just-” the poor thing braved a word of careful guidance, “You shouldn't be so rough, when the edges are still healing.."

Although intimidated by his size and what foul response he may have for being chastised, Paz surprised her with a simple 'by all means' and surrendered the cloth. She dampened it, and dutifully stood before him again.

To her surprise, Paz patted his leg and prompted her to sit: just as she had by the fire.

Yet while she took the spot, she didn't fall into his arms with the same comfort as that night a few weeks back. A wine-drunk flirty version of herself sunk into the embrace of her protector to chat him up, at his invitation. She’d not even been that nervous then, or even days after when they’d both been sober. There was a shortage of chairs in one of the meeting rooms, one glance turned to another, and he patted his leg in just the same way. She’d hardly shied away from his attention– enjoyed it, actually, to the point of craving. The top-of-the-line thermal compression pajamas she’d seen spread around on all the midwinter advertisements around the market could never warm her through like he could. She’s ruined for life if this trend turns into a habit…

But this was hardly the time for a cozy rendezvous– not while he was hurting. 

Unaware of any of these inner ramblings, Paz laid a hand on her waist to train her to relax anyway. His free hand simply held her to his lap, thumbing along her far thigh. To ensure she didn't slip, of course. 

Starborne’s Grace and Favor… this man is a delight for the eyes. For a man brimming with muscles, the cushioned fat layer made Paz quite comfortable– and quite the sight with blossoming tattoos along his chest and ribs.

While she set to cleaning the remaining blood the nurses missed first, Song also freshened the cloth, waving it a bit to introduce cool air, and dabbed off his collarbones and along either side of his neck, swiping along where his lean indicated. 

Gods it felt good. He'd be asleep in minutes if she kept this up. Paz bit his tongue to keep from moaning outright.

Attention trained towards his comfort, the Songbird asked softly, "You must be hot under there."

His words slurred a tad in response, "I'm used to it."

She frowned a little but just tipped the chin of his helmet up just a touch, wiping up his throat to catch some sweat. She was interested to find dark, auburn stubble to hint at a full beard under the seal, but evaded from peeking too much and jerked her sights up to his visor instead. 

"I don't say that to pry about what's under there, but I'd reckon to say a beard does make it warmer y'know…"

"I count on it during the cold seasons here." He murmured just as low as the first time, tilting whichever way she wanted. She could feel his true voice hum along his throat by the bob of his Adams apple. " I didn't plan on going to a damn swamp for the last week, or else I woulda shaved it."

"Poor thing." She mimicked, caressing the back of his neck. She spaced out at some point over him as she worked along his shoulders and passed the hand towel back and forth, registering only through touch how warm he felt beneath her. Warm and pliant and dangerously close to stealing her heart away and ruining her for other men… 

It felt incredibly good, but Paz had half a guilty heart; she must be getting tired. The helm faced her head on,

"You don't have to do all that..." he cupped the fleshy inner part of her palm with utmost care– care that he typically never treated himself with.

"I want to.” she hummed back easily. “You deserve it.”

At his encouragement, she swept broader strokes down his back and up again with one hand, bracing on his shoulder with the other. It was so contoured, sweeping hills of strength along his spine where muscles built up over years of use. A landscape worthy of some special attention.

Paz just sat there –calm on the exterior, but a swirling pool of doubt and bewilderment, and unworthiness weighting down his chest into heavy breaths. This girl was making him into mush by the minute.

"How's that. Better?"

The helmet nodded back and its voice hummed a little.

He’s growing more in love by the minute, too. Just keep talking, sweet sparrow.

She sat back and propped up in his lap, crossing her ankles.

"I can warm up that food if you want; or you can shower up and I'll have it inside for you before I go." 

His hand caught hers, "--You don't have to go."

"Not even so you can eat?" She clarified, curiously.

"I can wait on that. You..." He tipped the helmet down so their joined hands were in view. "...Food can wait."

The Paz Vizsla was holding her hands in both of his now, and she let him. These hands– the ones that made it their mission to treat him kindly when little mercies in this galaxy ever did…

She smiled, even though he was hardly watching: his big blue helmet is trained on feeling how soft hers must be by comparison. She’s finding it adorable that the big, strong Mandalorian seemed fascinated by her hands of all things. Song couldn't imagine she was the first girl to be perched on his lap like this, but by the way he rubbed over her like something precious, she secretly hoped she could be the last.

" ‘Food can wait.’ “ she repeated in a tease, “Since when would any fiery Mandalorian say such a lie– stalling a meal just because you found a little bird on your lap, huh? You want me to start singing for you next?"

Nudged from his trance, the visor lifted to her again making him lean back more comfortably, 

"I wouldn't say no to that." Paz flirted right back. 

With outstretched legs once more, Paz brought one up to be elevated as advised while guiding her in by her waist to relax in his lap again and take a break herself. 

The Songbird followed his lead this time– and resumed her trademark humming with the knowledge of a job well done.

[foomoosworld]

Stars Too Far Series Masterlist (ongoing)

Category: smut

Din Djarin X Fem Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian is chasing a bounty through space on the Outer Rim when he and the bounty crash on an uninhabited planet. (Or at least it appears to be uninhabited) Din sustains an injury and wakes in a feral woman’s cabin. Together they must navigate through the deadly planet and forge a plan to escape.

Mature Content, Minors DNI! Smut, fluff, kink, violence, language!

🌺=Smut

There’s fluff in every chapter

Chapter 1 - The Bounty

Chapter 2 - Blinkey 🌺

Chapter 3 - I Like It Here

Chapter 4 - Your Air Hurts My Skin 🌺

Chapter 5 - Go On... Mandalate 🌺

Chapter 6 - Cape Isn't So Stupid Now, Is It?

Chapter 7 - Lightning Bug 🌺

Chapter 8 - Leave it Behind and Run 🌺

Chapter 9 - It's Not A Debt 🌺

Chapter 10 - I'll Bring The Girl To You

Chapter 11 - Look At Me Like That Forever 🌺

Chapter 12 - Getting "Ahead" These Days 🌺

Chapter 13 - Good Luck, Kid

Chapter 14 - Shy-Tan Djarin 🌺

Chapter 15 - Spoken Like A True Warrior 🌺

Chapter 16 - Lemon Tree

Chapter 17 - The Raven And The Firefly 🌺

[ipromiseimokay]

Hi there! Glad you found your way to this corner of the internet, allow me to introduce myself;

{ About Me }

~ Val (still working out a name)

~ they/them

~ bilingual 🇬🇧/🇩🇪

~ this blog is for fanfic, for more unhingedness go here

~ requests always appreciated!

{ Who I currently write for }

Alma Peregrine (Mphfpc)

Farah Dowling (f:tws)

Rhaenys Targaryen Velaryon (HotD)

Jeanine Matthews (Divergent)

Lady Lesso (sfgae)

Queen Ravenna (Snow White and the Huntsman)

Bo-Katan Kryze (Star Wars)

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

Stargate (SG1)

Brienne of Tarth (GoT)

Larissa Weems (Wednesday)

Maria Hill (MCU)

Peggy Carter (MCU)

Zelda Spellman (caos)

Lillith (caos)

Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley (CoD)

Col. König (CoD)

Astarion Ancunin (BdG3)

Loki (MCU)

{ Current Hyperfixation }

Loki 🛐🛐🛐

— - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

> chances are I only write for who/whatever I’m currently obsessed with, don’t hesitate to ask tho! <

[gravvitywritestrash]

Dincember Days 10, 11 and 12 Promts Frost, Sweater, and Tree

a/n sorry this is a few days late! I worked 26hrs between sat and sun and didn't have time to post. Anyways, I decided to put these three together to get back on track.

Gender neutral reader x the Mandalorain

Warnings: talks of anger, arguing.

Series Masterlist

You couldn't even remember what the argument was about at this point.

You and Mando had gotten into an argument, probably over something small, but it had escalated quickly.

Too much time spent in constant close quarters had clearly gotten to both of you, leaving you both over stimulated and frustrated.

Mando was the silent and cold type of angry, completely opposite to your loud and fiery argumentative side. This meant that you stumbled over your words, trying to come up with anything to argue and defend yourself with, while whatever Mando said was short, and to the point.

Getting angry always made you restless, fidgety, like a swarm of insects were filling your veins. At some point you had walked off the ship with only your boots and a light jacket to combat the harsh cold of the planet.

You had traveled quite far, mumbling to yourself and throwing your hands around while ranting. At some point you had stopped walking and started circling a tree, your path obvious by the ring of missing and melted snow. Not only did the walking help keep your blooding moving, the tree also blocked some of the wind, but you were still cold.

Just as you were pausing to lean against the tree, you heard the quiet crunch of his boots in the snow as he approached you from behind. Your groan was muffled by your hand harshly rubbing down your face as you pivoted halfway to face him.

"I'm not read to talk."

Mando paused in his approach, both feet planted in the snow, hand over the brown bag slung around his shoulders. He waited a few moments, and that's when you got a real look at him. Well- his armor more specifically.

His armor was covered in a layer of frost, filling the crevices in between the plates on his chest, and covering each plane, taking away its natural shine.

"The kid missed you." He flipped open the top of the brown bag, and instead of seeing the normal green head of the kid, you saw he was bundled up in a thick dark blue robe, the hood of it fastened over his head and concealing his large green ears. But you could see his large glassy brown eyes, and his little clawed hands reaching out to you, and that had your heart and previous frustrations melting away.

"C'mere, kid." You mumbled while approaching the two. Mando did not move, not a muscle. And when you pulled the kid out of the bag, he made no move to back away, and neither did you.

Now that you were closer, you could see how thick the layer of frost on his chest plate, and the rest of his armor was. You wondered if that made him any more colder than he already was.

Mando started to pull something else out of his bag, a deep red fabric caught your eye.

"Here, I brought this for you." He held it out between you, a thick sweater that wasn't yours. One of his own that he brought out for you, a peace offering.

Without saying anything, you nodded and passed him the kid while taking the sweater out of his hands. Once it was on, the kid was back in your arms, gripping the front of the sweater tightly, and quietly babbling at you.

The sweater was warm after sitting in the bag with the kid. It also faintly smelled like Mando, that warm and slightly spicy scent that had been on the blanket was muted, indicating he probably hadn't worn it in a while.

You figured this was the closest to an apology you'd get from him after the argument, but he surprised you by stepping closer to you, close enough to have the back of your hands brush his cold armor.

"I'm sorry."

You looked at him then, staring into that void, the visor swallowing your gaze.

You had always tried to push the desire to see past the visor down, hating how selfish and disrespectful to kid creed it felt, but you wished so desperately to look him in the eyes at this moment.

"I'm sorry. I have shouldn't taken out my anger on you, it's unfair and childish, and I'm sorry." His hand lifted and went to rest on your upper bicep, "You don't have to be ready to talk right now, and that's okay. I wanted to apologize, though."

His apology shocked you. You hadn't expected him to, or at least not be the first to do it. Despite not remembering what the argument was about, you were sure you had been at fault in the first place, and the irritation of having been trapped on the Crest had gotten to you first, causing you to be defensive and snappy at the slightest criticism.

And you appreciated that he'd apologized first, despite his trouble communicating at times. The fact that he'd come out all this way, bring you a sweater, his sweater, and apologized completely moved you. You tilted your head down, looking at the frost covered chest plate so he couldn't see the tears in your eyes.

"I'm sorry, too, Mando. I should have listened instead of getting angry." The hand that was on your arm moved, rubbing up and down slightly in acknowledgement.

"You ready to go back?"

The kid was now snuggled into your chest, pressing his face as close to you as possible, trying to stay shielded from the wind.

Mando had told you that the kid missed you, but you doubted that the kid was the only one. So with a nod, you fell into step next to Mando. While you walked, his hand had left you briefly, and when his arm settled back around you, you noticed he had wrapped you in his cape.

-

taglist: @honeydjarin

a/n I'm sorry this isn't all that good. Finals and end of semester stuff has me stressed as hell. I also work too much. So excited for winter break

[writings-of-a-british-fangirl]

A Lesson In Traditions [Din Djarin x Reader]

Title: A Lesson In Traditions Summary: After the brief spark, you felt between you and Din, you are longing for it to be recreated. And, maybe a shiny trinket from Mandalorian tradition can help you with that. Warnings: None I don't think ? Request: N/A

A/N: Some of you wanted a part two to A Lesson In Mando'a so here's the follow up! I might make this a series if anyone is interested

A/N 2: I made up the idea of betrothal necklaces. I don't think these exist in Mandalorian culture, but I took inspiration from water benders in Avatar the Last Airbender, because I thought the idea was cute! So credit to that series!

PART 1: A Lesson In Mando’a PART 2: A Lesson In Traditions PART 3: A Lesson In Touch

Din Djarin~A Lesson In Traditions

It had been a while since Din had told you what cyar'ika had meant, and ever since then the two of you had been dancing around each other. Surely, he knew you liked him by now- you had tried to hint at him several times: lingering touches, longer conversations, closeness to him. And, yet the Mandalorian remained oblivious. You supposed that no matter the species or creed, men were all as dense as each other.

        You huffed as you held the child on your lap.

        "I don't know what I'm going to do, little one," you murmured, "I think I'm having more luck communicating with you, than I am with your dad. ...Maybe I should just give up. He has his creed to follow anyway..."

        The child looked at you, his head slightly tilted. His big eyes stared up at you. Despite not saying anything at all, you knew he was understanding you. He was a pretty great listener, even if he was only a youngling.

        "You know, you're right. Maybe I- maybe we just need a day out. Some fresh air. What do you think? Do you want to take a little trip? We need some more supplies anyway, I'm getting sick of rations, and I'd like some fresh food. What about you?"

        The child perked up at the mention of food, and you smiled.

        "I'll take that as a yes," you giggled, "Let me go speak to your daddy."

        You placed the child gently down in his bed, and made your way up to the cockpit, where Din was flying the ship. Your head peeked up from the ladder, and you clambered up and stood awkwardly for a second at the back of the room. Din heard you enter, and waited for you to speak. He turned his head ever so slightly, his beskar glinting from the faint light the stars around the ship were producing.

        "Hi," you murmured, wandering over to where Din was sitting, "How far away are we from the next stop?"

        "About an hour," Din replied, "Why do you ask?"

        You fold your hands neatly in front of you, you shift your weight slightly forward, and almost rock on the balls of your feet.

        "Well, I was thinking that I- well, us... You, me and the kid could take a trip to the local market on our next stop. It's just we need more food anyways, and I'm going a bit stir crazy. It'll do us some good to get some fresh air, especially the kid. He can't spend his whole life in this ship."

        Din contemplates for a second.

        "I know what you're going to say- It's dangerous, we're being hunted but-"

        "-I was actually going to say okay."

        "Really? I mean, great. Thank you!"

        Din smiles under his helmet, not that you can tell, and continues, "As you said, we need food anyway, and the next planet we're going to land on is remote enough. It's definitely not Imp friendly either."

        You nod, and flash Din a smile. The tension slowly builds in the room; you can feel his eyes on you. Despite not being able to see his eyes (hell, you didn't even know what colour they were), you could sense them: trained on you. You coughed awkwardly.

        "I'm going to go check on the kid. Uh- Give me a shout when we're about to land."

        "I will, cyar'ika."

        Your heart jumps at the nickname.

~~~

As soon as you landed, you grabbed your bag, your gun and a set of knives. Despite not technically being employed by any bounty hunting guilds right now, it never hurt to be prepared: especially when the small green creature you were travelling with had such a high price on his head. And, then you turned to Din. He was also carrying his fair share of weapons, and of course the child. He was situated in Din's bag, his cute little face peaking out over the top. You smiled at him, before beginning to walk down the ramp.

        The Mandalorian made his way into the town, with you by his side, and his small son literally at his side. He didn't feel uneasy about this place- it looked relatively safe, but he was still on high alert. And, he wanted you to be as well.

        Despite having only known you a couple of months, he didn't dare think about the possibility of something happening to you. He knew he had to protect the child, that was a given, but the growing affection he had for you was uncharted. As a boy, he had learned about Mandalorians caring for foundlings (just as they had done with him as a boy), but romantic relationships were something out of his reach. He knew they occurred; they had to. The Mandalorians, while being a creed of highly trained soldiers, still held family at their core. After all, how were they to make more warriors without romantic relationships. But, truthfully, they were something unfamiliar to him. It had never been possible in his life, not with the creed. With you, his thoughts had begun to wander more and more lately. About you being next to him, being his family. He knew Mandalorians were allowed to take their helmets off for family, for those in their Clan. The more time you spent with him, the more he considered you to be apart of his Clan... He shook himself slightly. 'Stop,' he thought, 'You shouldn't have this on your mind. Y/N doesn't think of you that way. They're here for the child. That's it.'

        If only Din knew how far from the truth that was.

        "I need you to take him," Din says to you, carefully taking the child from his bag and handing him to you, "I'm going to go into the cantina, and see if I can find me- us some work. I trust you can manage to get us some supplies?"

        "You insult me, my love," you laugh, holding the child in your arms, "I am more than capable. I hope you save me at least one good bounty. I can't let you have all the fun."

        "I'll keep an eye out. Meet me here in half an hour."

        "Will do, my love," you smile and walk away from him.

        Din was glad for the distance being put between the two of you, because he was sure if you were any closer to him, you would be able to hear his heart racing behind his beskar. 'My love,' he pondered. He quite liked the way that sounded rolling off your tongue, perhaps even more than he liked hearing you say his own name. He gave one last look over his shoulder, just to make sure you were okay, before heading into the cantina.

~~~

You'd successfully made it to the market, and had made your way around over half of the stalls, and you had basically bought all the food for you and your Mandalorian. As you continued walking through the market, most of the stalls you passed by were food, but some were trinkets, toys, and even weapons. You'd hesitated by one particular booth. They were selling crystals, luxury cloth, and jewellery. Usually, you weren't one for such fine things (in your life style, things like that would end up ruined, stolen or pawned), but you'd been drawn in by one particular necklace. The chain was made up of two types of metal from what you could tell: a shinning silver, and a deep, darker grey. Attached to the chain was an unfamiliar symbol. It curved into a symmetrical shape, one that looked like two halves of a whole.

        "That's real beskar, you know," the seller assured, "It would look beautiful sitting around your neck."

        The seller was an older woman. She wore blue and purple robes, dirtied only a little by the sand- no doubt from the extensive sand desert that lay just outside the town. She had a kind face, her eyes smiling up at you. You'd almost forgotten to reply.

        "What do you say? Can I interest you in such a fine, unique piece?"

        "Oh, I'm not sure-"

        "-I'm sure your husband would like it: it would match his own armour after all," the lady added, taking the necklace off of its stand and presenting it to you.

        "Oh, he's not- He's not my husband. We're just travel companions, that's all."

        "Someone should tell him that. The way he looks at you... Only few people are so lucky. Looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky."

        "How do you know that? His helmet-"

        "-There's some things you just know with age, dearie. Love is one of them."

        You were rendered speechless. Did he really look at you like that? Was is that obvious? Did his heart beat for yours the way yours beats for his? You hardly had time to process the thought of you and Din together that close, as spouses, before the seller spoke again.

        "So what do you say? Can I tempt you with this necklace? I can even throw in a free toy for the little one," she smiled, cooing to the child from across the table.

        You looked at the seller, and then down to him.

        "What do you say, little guy? Do you want a new toy?" you murmured to him; when you saw his eyes gleam with excitement, you knew it was all over.

        "I think he said yes," the merchant laughs.

        "I think you're right," you reply, reaching into your bag for your purse, "I usually wouldn't spend credits on a thing like this... But, it is quite beautiful. And, you do deserve a new toy."

        You handed the lady her credits, and took the necklace from her. She'd placed it into a small, black, velvet box. The box had small silver hinges and a clasp at the front. You felt a little giddy. It had been a while since you'd made such an unessential purchase, and there was a small part of you that hoped if you wore this you might get the attention of a certain masked warrior. You shook your head, granted it was a little desperate, but you figured worth a shot.

        The child also received his gift too. It was a small figurine of an animal. You weren't quite sure which one, but he seemed to like it, and that was good enough for you.

        You slipped the velvet box into your bag, and caught a glimpse of your watch. Fuck, you were late. You jostled the child closer to your chest and began to almost sprint back to the cantina: you did not want to have to deal with a grumpy Mandalorian, least of all if you were the cause of his grumpiness. The closer you got, the easier it was to make out his figure.

        "Look, before you say anything, I'm sorry I'm late. Time must have slipped my mind, and I ran into a strange lady at one of the stalls, and she sold me this- You know what, you probably don't need to know all that. Just know we've got enough food to last us at least a month, and the child had fun."

        "He has a new toy."

        "I- Yeah," you replied, "Not exactly an essential, I know, but don't worry I used my credits. Besides, it'll hopefully stop him wrecking your cockpit for a toy."

        Din nodded. You don't know why you expected him to say more. He wasn't a man of many words, and you were apparently no exception. You made your way back to the ship with the Mandalorian in silence. It wasn't unpleasant by any means, but also it felt like you both had lots to say: you just didn't know how to say it.

        "Did you buy anything for yourself?" Din asked, looking over to you as you reached the ship.

        How did he know?

        Din obviously sensed your confusion.

        "I- You said that a lady sold you something, that's all," Din clarified.

        "Oooh, oh that," you said, looking down at your bag, "Yeah, I did. A bit of an impulse buy if I'm honest, but the lady was too nice to deny. She sold me a necklace. Maybe you can help me put it on."

        Din nodded; that should be easy. It was just a necklace after all. He'd fought off enemies twice his size, survived when the odds were against him, and was one of the best bounty hunters there was... It should be easy. So why was his heart racing?

        You placed the child down on the floor of the Razor Crest, and reached inside your bag for the box. Your hands traced the inside of your bag blindly, before feelings the soft touch of velvet. Carefully, you took it out of the bag, and revealed the box. Din's eyes watched with intrigue. You unfastened the clasp and opened the box. It snapped back on its hinges, and revealed the chain.

        Din's eyes registered the metal before his brain could even process it: a betrothal necklace.

        "The lady said it was genuine beskar, but I'm not so sure. I think it's just silver, probably some iron too- but it's pretty either way. Do you mind helping me put it on still?"

        Din's mind was still racing. He'd heard about the tradition of giving a betrothal necklace from urban tales and word of mouth from other Mandalorians, but he'd never actually seen one this close. The tradition stated that the Mandalorian proposing would take part of their beskar and part of their riduur-to-be's beskar and melt them into a necklace, with the two swirling around each other before eventually combining into a symbol at the bottom. Usually it was a good luck symbol, or for fertility. Something along those lines. It felt almost surreal seeing one close up.

        "Are you alright, Din?" you ask, "Is something up?"

       He wasn't sure if he should mention the tradition, what the necklace meant to the Mandalorians... It was basically a dead tradition now, anyway. There was no harm in not telling you, right? After all, there were very few Mandalorians left, and even fewer that managed to have the privilege of finding a riduur: you didn't need to know..

        "No, no... I'm fine," he reassures, "I- Hand me the necklace."

        Din took the necklace from you and instructed you to hold your hair out of the way. You obliged, and felt him lace the necklace around your neck before fastening it in the back. There was a small pause, where the two of you just stayed there: in the moment. It took everything in you not to shiver as you felt a rush down your spine. The sensation of Din's hands on you, even just for a moment, was almost too much. You turned around to face him.

        "Do you like it?" you ask, holding the pendant of your new necklace between your thumb and your index finger.

        "It suits you," he affirmed, "Mesh'la."

       "Thank you," you blushed, making a mental note to ask what 'Mesh'la' meant at a later date, "I- I'm going to go put the food supplies away."

       Din decided against telling you about the origin of your neckalce; you looked far too radiant wearing it for him to say anything that may shift the tone. He couldn't bring himself to say anything, so he just let you walk past him. Part of him felt guilty for not saying anything, but another part of him selfishly thought it looked beautiful sat around your neck. For a moment he could almost imagine that he had given you that..

       ...That you were his riduur.

[echoalyssa]

“You can’t always do everything on your own”

Gif by @coredrive

It’s late at night when your Mandalorian comes back, you’ve finally fallen asleep after spending the day worrying about the armored man who had left a week ago. His com was off, him having needed radio silence because the bounty was especially dangerous and cunning. You wake up with a start, hearing the sharp hiss of the hatch to the Razor Crest opening followed by several loud clunks.

You shoot out of his bed, wearing only one of Mando’s undershirts. You round the corner, and find the bounty hunter stumbling forward, just barely able to catch himself on the metal walls, he’s dragged a body onto the ship with him and he’s motionless so you can only assume that it’s dead.

You rush towards him, hands roaming over the armored plates, wanting to find the wounds. His breaths are sharp and ragged, laced with pain and he whispers your name as he falls into you.

“Mando!” You yelp as you wrap your arms around his body, his weight nearly crushing you.

He leans on you for support as you lower him to the ground, his boots dragging across the floor and he all but crumples to the ground.

“Get... get the... c-caut-“

Cauterizer he means to say. You make sure he’s steady against the wall, that he won’t accidentally tip over and then rush to his weapons closet where he kept his medical supplies. The small metal device is on top of the kit, hence the fact that he was always using it.

You rush back to him, and he sits up just slightly, a sharp breath leaving him. With shaky fingers the Mandalorian reaches to his shoulder to undo the back plate of his armor, not beskar, the creed hadn’t had enough to equip them all.

His fingers slip and the plate stays in place, his body is swaying and you know he doesn’t want you to help him. You’d never helped him take off any of his armor, or patch him up. You’d seen the little patches of skin that he sometimes revealed to you when he was cauterizing a wound of when he hand a glove off to press his fingers between your thighs.

“Mando... let me help you.”

“I... g-got...” His fingers move to unclip the plate again and you watch as they slip and he misses the latch.

“Mando” you murmur, gently batting away one of his gloved hands that is attempting to reach up again, “You can’t always do everything on your own. Let me help you.”

He drops his hand in defeat and you unclip the plate with a little difficulty but only because of how securely it was on. You help him take off his shoulder plater, and front chest plate. He groans and your fingers brush across the fabric of his underclothes, searching for the wound, certain that it would be large because of how weak the Mandalorian was.

Your hands drift over his shoulders and down his back, rising up on your knees to see over his shoulder. There’s a large gash starting at the top of his back, traveling down to his side. It’s wide open and still bleeding, the skin shredded.

For the bounty to have done this to the bounty hunter...

“Oh Mando...” you whisper and reach for the cauterizer that’s sitting on the floor. With a push of a button the device flicks to life, sparks flying from the tip. You separate his shirt as much as possible and then decide it’s better to just take it off. You help Mando shed his gauntlet’s and then pull the shirt from his back, careful to keep the fabric from touching his wound.

He sits there, slumped over in a corner of the ship, his entire torso bare to you and you can’t help eyeing him. Your gaze lands on years of scars, marking his body, some deeper, some newer but there all the same.

He slips forward and an arm wraps around your waist his body pressing into you.

Your fingers brush against his skin, warm and alive under your touch and you want this to be the new normal. Not him being hurt, but him trusting you enough to bare himself to you. The moment is just as special and meaningful as when he holds you close in the dark and marks you.

You’re gentle with the cauterizer and you drag your fingertips up and down his skin soothingly as he whimpers into your neck.

Star Wars Prompts

[motleymoose]

Homecoming Pt. 1: Astray, Ch. 1

Chapter 1

Stranded With Banthas

Fandom: The Mandalorian Characters:  The Mandalorian (Din Djarin), Gender-neutral Reader Words: 2.8k+ Warnings: ??? Angst???

Summary:

Stranded on a bantha-filled, Imperial-controlled moon on the outer reaches of the galaxy, I would do anything to get off-world. But even the best-laid plans can go awry, and I have to settle for second-best, a living reminder of my childhood.

Notes:

***1ST CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED***

Hello! Thanks for stumbling upon my fic!! A few things before we get started: *I've never really been a fan of Star Wars (until the Mandalorian, that is) *I've only done a basic amount of research (please let me know if the stellar charts don't align or I've completely flub any major parts of the lore!) *If you're here for romance, this is probably not the fic you seek This fic is going to span several parts, so don't be disappointed if the chapter count is short. There is more, I promise! I have two more chapters in this part, plus half a dozen others waiting the wings for their time to shine. That being said, this is all lightly edited and more than likely contains several blaring mistakes I am currently blind to.

Thank you for hanging with me this far. I hope you enjoy it!

Homecoming Masterlist

I was hot, bored and out of credits.

Having been stranded on an Imperial-held outpost, stars away from almost any sort of proper civilization, it wasn’t exactly the worst thing that could’ve happened to me. I could’ve lost my hands or what little possessions I had, even been executed, but instead the captain and crew of the Momentum decided it was a fitting punishment to desert me on a moon positively crawling with Imps and bucketheads.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t luck that saved me. I was the unluckiest person in the galaxy. Having lost my family to a Rebel airstrike and then been abandoned by my caretaker at a young age, I’d had to fight tooth and claw for survival. I was a mechanic by trade, and a good one at that. My ability to fix things also gave me the knowledge to break them, and coupling that with my disregard to fighting fair, I could be one sticky situation to get rid of.

Not to say the crew hadn’t thought of ways to dispose of me. On more than one occasion, I’d had large, heavy objects barely miss my head as I puttered around below-decks or in the engineering pit. It was more often than I thought average for a mechanic to be almost killed by falling crates and crewmates, and after mentioning it to the captain, everyone agreed it was best if I just left the ship instead of continuing on as their blackthumb.

I’m not sure what exactly brought on their ire. There had been that bunkmate with whom I’d had a tumble or two, but as we both had agreed to part ways as distant friends. I didn’t see her as being a begrudging type, but there was a first for everything, and I wasn’t about to question the crew’s alliance when freedom seemed so close.

Maybe it would have been better to just poison everyone on the ship and abscond with the loot, but I wasn’t a pirate - or, actually, I wasn’t usually a pirate - and murdering everyone just because they pissed me off wasn’t on my list of fun activities.

Playing through the events that led me to the dusty rock I currently resided, I couldn’t help but kick myself for not getting the rest of my pay before being unceremoniously dumped in the dirt and bantha dung. I shifted uncomfortably on my perch of sweet-smelling hay bales in an attempt to not itch. It was impossible, as I had been settled on the bales since mid-afternoon, and there was hay in places I didn’t even want to think about.

I stared at the door of the single cantina, squashed between a rocky outcropping and the ruins of a Rebel-held base. Most of the regulars had found their way in, but I was more interested in the one that stood out from all the rest of the Imp sympathizers and bantha ranchers; a Mandalorian in full, shining beskar had landed in my neck of the woods, and I wanted to find out why.

If he was looking for me, well. I was going to have a hard time explaining the reasons I stole a slave ship from my boss and then let them loose on a newly-colonized moon on the Outer Rim. It wasn’t a good story, and I didn’t come out of it unscathed, but I did the best for those people with the tools I was given and I wouldn’t do anything to change the fact that I gave them freedom.

My boss didn’t look at it that way, and before I knew it, I was on all the wanted lists in the ruled galaxy. Which is why being on a no-named moon, surrounded by bantha pastures, was the least worst thing that could've happened.

Grumbling under my breath, I wriggled further into my little shelter. The sun was setting behind me, and the light cast an eerie rosy glow on the people closing up their shops for the night. The village was small compared to most, and smaller still for the amount of Stormtroopers and Imperial officials lurking about in groups of three or better. They patrolled the streets after dark in a guise of keeping peace and order, but everyone knew that they were planning something. No one knew what it was, but word had spread from neighboring moons that the Imps were flocking to the area. Nowhere was safe from the Empire’s reach, even when they were defeated and in shambles.

Once the sun went down all the way, the humid, oppressive heat would dissipate, leaving behind a damp chill that would last until the next dawn. Pulling a couple of loose flakes of hay on top of me for warmth, I propped my chin in my hands and waited impatiently for the Mandalorian to show himself again.

Near dawn, not long after many of the bantha ranchers had tramped from the warmth of their beds and to the ramshackle collection of barns and sheds out near the landing field - and thus downwind from the most of the community - the Mandalorian made his appearance.

Broad, square and sturdy, the warrior looked the part of the fearsome legends. His beskar was shiny, with barely a dent to be seen. The cloak he wore, although tattered and full of blaster holes, looked well-made, and the weapons he carried - a Westar-34 and an amban rifle - were clean and in good repair. Without a look back, he strode through the quiet thoroughfare and disappeared down an alley.

Well frag.

Other than just to quench my curiosity, what I wanted more than anything was a ride off this Imp haven. The Mandalorian would have a ship that could take me off-moon, and even if I was his quarry, it was better than rotting amongst the bantha kung. Stiffly vaulting from the stack of hay, I shook the kinks from my joints and sped after the Mandalorian.

Following the same route I saw him take, I trailed the warrior to a set of squat, ovoid huts. He’d disappeared inside, and once more I waited impatiently, but this time in the shadows of a woodshed. From time to time, I touched the amulet hanging from the thin silver chain at the base of my throat, reassuring myself the body-warmed pendant was still there. This Mando wasn’t the first one I’d ever laid eyes on, as my caretaker had been of the Way. He had taught me what he could before he left me, a solid, steady protector fleeing into the night. The thought of him still hurt, but it had been years ago, many parsecs in the past, and it was easier to push down and out of the way of more important emotions.

My nerves ticked upwards when I caught sight of the warrior in the window of the foremost hut. Heart fluttering and stomach in my throat, I took slow, smooth steps farther back into the shed until I was pressed up against a mouldering wood pile. I watched, caged and frozen as the Mandalorian stayed in the frame of the opening for a few more minutes. Head spinning, I released a hiss of a sigh and began to take slow, deep breaths to calm myself. I wasn’t going to do myself any favors by passing out before I could find out where the Mando was headed.

As the minutes dragged on, I continued my deep, even breath until the blanket covering the hut opening twitched and the Mandalorian stepped out. I took a few more breaths, biding my time to make sure he had a head start on me. ------ It was a long ambling walk to the outer reaches of the small farming village. My nose was clogged from the stench of moofs, and I’m pretty sure that was bantha droppings and not mud I’d stepped in a while back, but I kept my pace to a casual walk. From the looks of things, the Mandalorian was headed for the shipyard. Not a surprise, but I figured he’d’ve stayed a little longer. Either way, I was going to get a ride on his ship. Eagerness gnawed at my guts and my legs, but rushing would call attention to me, and I didn't really want to be noticed.

At the last set of farm buildings before the vast openness of the docking ports, I paused to watch a group of younglings chase an aired up moof bladder. There was a skirmish, a pile of small wriggling bodies, and then a shriek of triumph as a tiny Trandoshan Ingling held the dusty bladder above its broad scaly head. It hissed a shrill challenge at its companions, and they all fell about the place giggling and scrabbling for the champion.

I smiled at their innocence, watching for a minute longer as the group split into predetermined teams, and the game began again. Pivoting away from the revelry, I dodged between two outbuildings, bantha barns from the smell of them. Looking over my shoulder one last time, I turned to stroll down the empty alley.

That’s when I ran into the Mandalorian. Or, more correctly, his outstretched arm.

The breath knocked out of me, a bruise blooming across my chest, I lay in the dust with the trash and the dung at the feet of the Mandalorian. Staring up dazedly, I gasped painfully and brought a shaky hand up to rub the grime from my face. My other hand palmed the short dagger tucked into the straps of my cuisses. The plan was to stow away on the ship, but plans changed, and getting clotheslined in a dirty alleyway happened to change those plans for the worse.

“I don’t want to have to kill you,” I finally hissed. My chest felt heavy and my breathing was short as I brought the palmed dagger up to my chest, next to the pendant. “But I will if you ever do that again.”

The helmeted head angled sideways and the Mandalorian took me in. “I am ordered by the Guild to bring you in,” he rasped, tossing a puck onto my stomach. A hologram image smiled goofily back at me, all of my identities, crimes and locations printed plainly underneath.

Raising my head up to look at it, I grimaced and fell back into the dirt. “Frag.”

The neat scroll under my beaming hologram face told anyone who knew how to read that I was a notorious pirate who’d stolen a cargo-full of indentured servants from an innocent merchant to sell on the slave market.

Not completely untrue, but just enough so that it made me angry.

“It’s kinda hard to be a pirate of any sort when I don’t even have a ship, much less one full of supposed indentured servants,” I muttered to no one in particular. “I’ll accept the charges of stealing that ship and rescuing the people on it, but I’m drawing a line at ‘pirate’ and ‘slaver’ and ‘innocent merchant’s indentured servants.’ My boss is anything but blameless, and the servants were innocents tricked into slavery. I couldn’t not help them.”

The Mandalorian grunted solemnly and bumped my shoulder with the steel toe of his boot.

“Alright, alright. I’m getting up,” I replied, deftly sliding the tiny dagger into the sleeve of my tunic before holding my hands up and getting to my knees. The law was not on my side, never had been. But there was a small chance I could talk, or fight, my way out of this. I bowed my head, wishing mightily that I knew a little more about hand-to-hand combat. I’m okay with knives, but when I only had a small dagger to start a fight with, even I knew that I was no match for a fully-geared Mando.

I took a bit longer than necessary, slumped on my knees with my head down, silently assessing the situation at hand. More than likely, my two-timing bantha fodder boss Mihcas put out a bounty. And it wouldn’t surprise me if he’d indicated he’d rather have me dead than alive; I’d freed a bunch of his cargo on a rebel-held moon, completely destroying both of our reputations and saving the lives of a dozen people destined for hard labor on one of the Imperial exo-planets. Half of them had been children, for Force’s sake. It didn’t sit right with me to send a bunch of younglings to their subsequent deaths when their biggest crime was existing. So when I had the chance to make a difference, I took it by the balls and jumped into hyperdrive right across the nose of my boss’s ship. It was reckless, but the scream of rage that came on the radio before I left him behind was priceless.

Any idea I had for escape flew from my head when the Mandalorian picked me up by the neck and shoved me into the mudbrick barn’s wall. My head banged painfully against the reddish yellow stone, and I felt the tiny dagger slip from my sleeve to clatter harmlessly to the ground. The hand crushing my windpipe flexed in irritation, and I found myself lifted off my feet. The newly-risen sun gleamed an angry red off the bounty hunter’s helmet. I couldn’t help but squint as I scrabbled for purchase against the wall, fingertips and knuckles bloodied and raw when I finally brought them around to grasp his wrist.

A blaster appeared suddenly, digging into my ribs, its quiet hum letting me know it was charged and loaded. Not that I could do anything about it. Black spots danced in my vision from the lack of oxygen going to my brain, so it was easy for me to ignore little things like a gun shoved in my belly in favor of more pressing issues. Like not losing consciousness.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold,” the Mandalorian threatened, fingers tightening around my throat.

Opening my mouth, I tried to form words, but my brain had a difficult time remembering even the most basic tasks. The bounty hunter squeezed his fingers one more time before letting go. I landed on my knees, panting open mouthed. It took a moment for me to regain all the proper motor functions, allowing the oxygen stinging my damaged throat to resaturate my bloodstream and sharpen my addled brain. The Mandalorian stood a few feet away from me, left hand resting on his belt buckle while the other held the blaster at his side. He seemed relaxed under all that armor, but the fingers of his left hand tapped an impatient tattoo on his belt.

Sucking in all the air I could before it went out of style, I closed my eyes and concentrated on steadying my racing heart.

Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out.

The Mandalorian cleared his throat.

Right. That.

In a false attempt to stand, I stumbled against the barn wall and fell back to my hands and knees in the dust, landing hard and awkward so’s not to alert him to anything fishy. Like retrieving my knife. It was stealthily tucked into one of the many pockets on the leg of my jumpsuit before I actually tried to stand.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. This hunter had less patience than me, which was saying something. Straightening upright, I pushed off the wall one-handed until I was face-to-face with the bounty hunter. I pasted the most innocent grin on my face I could conjure up at the moment, spreading my hands wide in front of me, palms out to show that I harbored no ill-will or weapons.

“I am not the pirate you seek.” I widened my eyes in what I hoped was a trustful look.

“Hands. Now.”

“I guess you did take my breath away, but don’t you think it’s a little soon to walk out in public together?” I teased humorlessly before complying. Hands out, wrists together, don’t make any sudden moves or relax any muscles. “Would it help if I told you my evil twin made me do it?” Not exactly a lie, since half the things I did were under the influence in one form or the other. “I’m by no means innocent of some of the things you're accusing me of, but more than half of that is made up or exaggerated beyond belief.”

The cuffs were roughly locked into place, and I flexed my hands experimentally. They were tight, but not so much so that I’d lose feeling in my hands later. It’s a small thing to be glad that this bounty hunter showed a little kindness with my bonds.

“Move,” the bounty hunter said, jabbing me in the ribs again with the blaster.

The hot, boiling rage that had built up over the last few weeks bubbled up the back of my wounded throat. I swallowed it loudly. “I don’t know where you want me to go.” Not exactly the truth, but he didn’t need to know that.

Sighing heavily, the Mando put a gloved hand on my shoulder, shoving me none too gently in the direction of the docks.

Cursing my luck, I looked blankly at my original destination. “More than one way to skin a womp-rat, I guess,” I muttered under my breath, and began the uphill trek to a ship that would hopefully make good on its promise to get me the frag out of here.

[penvisions]

in search of honor {snippet}

been bouncing between wips today laid up in bed and out of my mind of maximum strength cold meds. but made some progress with each one! here's a little snippet for the fic i hope to bring to y'all sooner rather than later, please don't ask me why part of that sentence is underlined, bc i have no idea why lol

Your heart is thudding loud and nearly painful in your chest as you grip the handle of the gifted blade tight in your hand, ears straining for any sound to signal the ritual is about to begin. Your eyes flit around the room, lips pressed into a tight line as you feel the tension creak in your knees, in the bends of your elbows as you slowly look around the chamber. Only when the hush of stone moving along stone sounds, hatches opening at the footbed of each person’s perch to allow for a grotesque looking…pod to ascend. It’s brown and leathery on the outside and as it begins to open at the top with a sickly, squelching do you know that it’s now or never: the moment to take your life into your own hands.

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[kyberblade]

Bring You Back (Din x Reader) - Back To You Halloween AU - Coming Oct. 31st!

Summary: The Darkside is always a temptation, even at the best of times…. What would happen if you ended up slipping further and further down a dark path? ….A path they couldn’t follow?

An AU one shot for the Back To You Universe.

Xxx

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[helpinghanikan]

Star Wars: Kinktober 2023

Day 16: Swimming (Din Djarin)

Kinktober Masterlist

Din has been hesitant around large bodies of water recently. It hasn’t gotten bad enough to be considered an outright phobia but has been enough that you worry for his safety. Grogu was a kid prone to accidents and dangerous situation; what if one of those situations involves a lake?

That was how you convinced Din to try and learn how to swim properly. Most Mandalorians are taught from a young age to simply avoid the water where they can. All that armor and weapons can only result in sinking like a rock. Even if they were skilled it would be difficult to survive a sudden drop off.

“I can swim,” Din had insisted when you started stripping.

“I believe you; I also believe there is nothing wrong with practice.” You explained, taking his hands, and walking backwards into the water. “We won’t swim for very long, just enough that I know you’re safe.”

It was late in the night when you proposed this. Grogu was passed out in the bed, and the air was warmer than your average planet.

Din didn’t say much after you got completely naked. Taking the hint and doing, mostly, the same. Only his helmet remained when he stripped down. His armor and clothes folded next to yours.

The water was warm but still cool enough you had to get used to it. It created goosebumps over your legs and arms. A good excuse to press close against Din as you walked backward.

You make it about waist deep before issues arise. Although the ground is sand there is still the occasional rock sitting around. One of those rocks finding it’s way into your heel. Digging in and surprising you enough to send you backwards into the water.

Din does his best to catch you, but he doesn’t have the time to stop gravity. Instead you end up taking him with you. Grabbing onto his forearms and landing in the water with a splash that disturbed the peace around the world.

“Are you alright?” Din asks, pushing himself up to keep you from drowning in waist deep water.  

Rarely do you get to see so much of Din. He always wears the armor and clothing. The lights off when you sleep together and a covering over your eyes when you get a kiss. Seeing him entirely naked from the neck down was a real treat.

He was a hair man. On his chest, his arms, and legs there was a fine layer of dark hair. The water pressing his hair close to him. Your hands run over his arms and chest. No thoughts about the swimming lessons you were planning. The only thing you could think of, you cared about, was the body leaning over you.

“I’m okay,” You say, pushing yourself up to kiss his shoulder.

The swimming lesson is completely forgotten about now. Din lets you cover his shoulder and collar bone in kisses. His hands over your chest, squeezing your breasts and relishing in the feeling of your skin without gloves.

“Come here,” You tell him, and he does exactly that.

With a sudden show of strength Din holds around your back. Pulling you up and onto his lap. The water sloshing and splashing as you bounce against him. Laughing out into the open air and relishing in the warmth this man gives.

He penetrates faster than you would have liked. The overwhelmed feeling of your bare body against his own moved things along faster than they would normally. It stretches and burns a bit when his pushes him. Both hands squeezing and massaging your backside as he waits for your permission to continue.

“Din, please.” You say, an arm wrapped around his neck.

The splashing getting louder, more intense, as you start to bounce. His fingers, usually hidden behind harsh gloves, is delicate against your clit. Back and forth he slides over your clit, as if to apologize for how quickly he decided to fuck you.

It was almost enough. The chill of the air on your nipples, the grunting from the man you love, and a never-ending promise to be together no matter what. That was enough.

[xmalereader]

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Stars Too Far

CHAPTER 14 - Shy-Tan Djarin

Mandalorian X Fem Reader

The Mandalorian is trapped on a deadly planet, escapes, and finds out secrets about his Mandalorian history that changes the ways of his people and his life but leaves him running for his life and the life of his child and Riduur.

Minors DNI. Smut, fluff, dirty, dirty thangs. So. Many. Dirty. Thangs.

It had been a long and boring 24 hours in the Razor Crest.  Din was unsure if he could approach you because you were so mad about leaving Mayfeld behind.  You understood, for the security of your child that you couldn’t have outside influences.  The reality of everyone being a danger had sunk in for you.  But Din was still unsure if you understood.  He hung around corners and opted to leave the room when you entered to give you space, which seemed to you like him being standoffish and petty.

He was running daily diagnostics when you walked into the cockpit. 

He tilted his head up to you and gingerly asked,

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I want to vomit consistently and this little fucker keeps kicking me like it’s a routine to make me have pain.”  

“Well, we’ll be on Mandalor in two days.  You can just relax once we're there.Can you hold out until we get there?”

You jump as you feel another pain and grunt out loud.

Din extends an arm and his gloved hand pulls you in to sit on his lap.

“I love you.” he whispers as he holds you.

“I love you t-” Suddenly you jump up from Din’s lap.

“What’s wrong?”  He questions.

“I think they just kicked my liver into my chest.-”  You hold your stomach then cry out again in pain.

Din jumps to his feet and wraps his arms around you.

“No…. I’m okay.  Just a bad kick.”  You wave him off. 

Water hits the floor with a crash.

You look up to Din, terrified.

“What just happened?”  You ask with fear racing through your words.  Din knows, but can’t manage to find words either,  “What’s happening?”  You beg.

Din grabs you and eases you down to the ground.

“Our baby is coming.”  He says laying you back.  He pulls his cape off and mounds it under your head as a pillow.  “Are you comfortable?”  He shakily asks.

“I haven’t been comfortable for months.”  You say as the pain eases away like pulling a sheet from your body.  Din strokes your cheek to try to soothe you.

“We’re landing on the closest planet and going to a doctor.  You’ll be okay.”  He softly whispered.  You nod then he pulls himself up and takes the controls of the Razor Crest, angling it  down towards the first planet within view.

……………

Din threw a black hooded cloak around you as he led you into the city in search of a doctor.  Letador was the worst place to try to find help.  It was comprised of thieves and drug lords.  He tried his best to shadow you from the onlookers but there was no doubt by their curious looks at The Mandalorian that they were on the lookout for him and you.

“Aaaah!” you screamed as your contractions overtook you and forced you to a sudden hault in the street.  Din gathered you in his arms and pulled you close to his chest and looked around, seeing people turning to look at you.  This was gathering too much attention.

“Follow me…”  He whispered to you as he wound his way through alleyways, you stumbling and faltering in his grasp as he urged your forward..  You came to a full stop and shouted out in pain and Din realized there was no more moving forward from this point.  He wildly looked around and saw a dilapidated wood board covering  a hole in the wall of an abandoned, concrete, factory building. He gently sat you down to lean, huffing and puffing through your pain and grasping your stomach, against the wall of the factory then pulled the board away to reveal  a bashed out hole in the side of it creating an entrance..  

You called out in white hot pain again as you sat in the alleyway.  Din rushed to your side and pulled you to your feet trying to shush you as he guided you into the abandoned building.

“I don’t want to give birth here…”  You panted, terrified as Din led you from room to abandoned room trying to find the most buried room in the building where, hopefully, no one would hear.

“I want a doctor…”  You begged.

“”I’m sorry, this is what we have right now…”  Din said exasperated, “We need to get you as far away from people that can hear you as possible.”

You nod as he leads you into the next room.  You fall to your knees, screaming and clutching your stomach.

“Din!” you finally manage to shout out as you reach your hand out to find his. His gloved hand holds yours tightly as his visor dodges around to try to find resources to help deal with you possibly giving birth here.  You crumple onto the concrete, cracked and chipped floor and look terrified into his visor.

He’s never seen you so scared and it pierces his soul.  He just wants you to feel some comfort but there’s nothing he can do.  He reaches up and unlatches his helmet and there is a hiss of it depressurizing.  He drops it to one side and  you look into his chocolate brown eyes.

“Am I going to die?” your voice wavers with tears now streaming down your face..

He takes your face in both of his hands and slowly shakes his head.

“I won’t let you go.”  He kisses your forehead then clenches your hand harder.

You scream out in pain as your next contraction moves.  Din moves behind you and pulls you to sit up against him on the wall..

You scream again, covered in sweat.

“Something is wrong!”  You shout.

Din’s mind immediately races to the doctor’s warnings of a breech birth.  He trembles, but holds your hand and curls his body around yours as you push.

“You can do this.”  He whispers to you as you shiver in pain.

…………….

Inside a backpack, inside an abandoned building, on a forgotten planet full of thieves and criminals there was a red flashing light.

Mayfeld watched his tracking device as it blinked faster and faster until it led him to an abandoned building.  He was confused as he spun around, trying to find the entrance then moved aside the plywood board to enter the structure.  He watched the flashing light on his tracker work faster and faster until finally it was a steady tone.  He looked up.

The Mandalorian sat against the grey, dirty wall with a bundle in his arms  Next to him was a bundle of rags and a plastic tarp with legs sticking out and a large puddle of blood.

“Mando!”  Mayfeld exclaimed.  He rushed up, “Are you okay?”  Din tiredly looked up at him, too emotionally spent to have words.  Mayfeld slowly moved his hand and pulled down the rags that Din held in his arms to see a baby that slowly wriggled it’s arms up at him and gargled a breath.

He smiled at the child but that faded when he angled his face back up to Din and saw how pale and exhausted he was.  He looked to his left and saw your lifeless body laying under a tarp and some rags.

“I can’t bring her back.”  Din says, defeated.  “I tried.  But she won’t wake up.”

Mayfeld gives Din a nod trying to stifle his own fears.

He feels for a pulse.

“She’s alive.”  He nods at Din. “I have two speeders outside.”  You take the kid and I’ll take her.”

Mayfeld offers Din his hand and Din struggles to his feet.  Mayfeld then grasps your body and pulls it up, wrapped in the cloak.

“We have to go now!  They know you’re somewhere on this planet and half the quadrant is looking for you!”

Din nods and you make your way out to the speeder.  Din holds the child close to his chest, waiting for Mayfeld to secure your barely conscious body onto the speeder.  You wake up slightly, crack your eyes, and hold Mayfeld’s waist on the the speeder, rasping, “You owe me credits, Straight Arrow.”

Mayfeld merely looks over his shoulder at you and says, “Hold on, kid.  We’re getting you out of here.”  He feels you tighten your grip and both Din and your speeders take off.  

The speeders shift and dodge through the thin streets of the city and it isn’t lost on any of you how many eyes are watching you.  It was at the edge of the city that Mayfeld laughed, “We made it!” as he can see the Razor Crest in the distance. 

Like clockwork, ten speeders emerged from the outskirts of the city, rapidly gaining on you as you sped towards the ship.

Din shoots Mayfeld an annoyed look as they race next to each other.

“What?”  Mayfeld snarks at Din and shrugs, “You’ve never overestimated something?”

Blaster fire rained through the air as the thieves, pirates and bounty hunters gained on them.  Both speeders came to a sliding stop in a cloud of dust.  Mayfeld ushered you off of the speeder and you both took cover behind the speeder as blaster fire shot off like fireworks.  Din hunched over the child, protectively covering him as he looked over at Mayfeld and yourself.  Mayfeld leapt and slid next to Din behind his speeder, narrowly missing blaster fire.

“Give me the child!”  He gasped.  Din hesitated and pulled the child back from him, “I’m gonna get your child and The Kid into the Razor Crest while you hold them off!”  He shouted at Din’s visor.  He still hesitated, but saw how quickly they were being approached and caged in and with a terrified breath handed over the child to Mayfeld.

“Cover me!”  Mayfeld said, somersaulting to his speeder as Din stood and dodges in the opposite direction, shooting at the army approaching.  Mayfeld  handed the child to you who weakly grasped them to your chest.

He panted, face covered in dust and fear, “We’re gonna hold your kid as close as you can and run up the ramp when I tell you to.”  He nodded at you for reassurance and you nodded back in understanding.

“Go!”  Mayfeld yelled.  He grasped around your waist, hauled you up and yanked you as hard and fast as he could into the Razor Crest.  Once inside he hit the button to bring up the cargo bay ramp that slowly withdrew.

Din saw the hatch  closing and as he was taking extensive fire tried to shoot off his jet pack to fly to the hatch.  A pirate jumped on him, putting him in a choke hold but he merely shot off his jet pack again and set him on fire.  Din shot up and he slipped through the opening of the cargo bay hatch closing at the last second.

Mayfeld was already at the helm taking the ship off.

“Go see your kid and wife and make sure they’re okay!  I’ll deal with this!”  Mayfeld yelled frantically as he swerved the Razor Crest into the atmosphere.

Din nods once and races back to the cargo bay to find where Mayfeld had left you in your makeshift bed of blankets and pillows holding your child.

The Razor Crest jolted, taking fire and dipped and swerved with wild jolts as Din slid in next to you and held you close in the complete darkness of the cargo hold.  You clutched him, your child gurgling and making happy noises, pushed between the two of you.

“It’s okay”  Din tried to sooth you as he held your head into his chest, feeling your heart racing and rigid, terrified body clutching to him.

Finally the Razor Crest smoothed out it’s flight pattern.  You look up to Din with wide, tear welling eyes and he tilts his helmet down at you, stroking your cheek and grasping you and the child closer.

“Sleep.”  He says simply, “I’ll protect you.”

You kiss his bare neck slowly and softly then tumble into a deep sleep.

………………….

You open your eyes and, unfortunately, saw Mayfeld.

“Hey, trooper.”  Mayfeld smirked at you.

Immediately, you fell into pain from your birth and huddled over hugging your body.

“Yeah.  That’s normal, apparently.”  Mayfeld quirked nonchalantly.

“Where’s The Mandalorian?”  You managed to rasp out.

“He’s flying the ship.  We’ll be on Mandalor soon.

“My baby?”

Mayfeld smiles and angles your child, bundled up in his crooked arms to your face so you can see them.  You smile and exhale all your nervousness as you gather them in your arms and quiet tears stream down your face.  You shyly try to wipe and hide them from Mayfeld.

“Hey,” Mayfeld said sitting next to you “I have five kids.  Five.  And every time that woman created another little copy of me I cried my eyes out because it was so goddamn beautiful that she made something so impossible.  I cried. Every. Damn Time. Do you know what Mandalorain was doing after you gave birth?  Holding your child  and crying.”

You look up at Mayfeld with red, swollen eyes not sure of his point, “You should cry when you make another soul.  One of the most fierce warriors in the universe sobbed when he saw this little one.”  He pats your shoulder and gets up as Din enters the doorway of he cargo hold.

“I’ll let you take over from here.”  Mayfeld says as he brushes past Din.

“Hi, Dad.”  You smile unsurely, holding your child.  Din approaches cautiously and when he kneels down next to you sees the familiar purple flash emitting from your stripes indicating you’re bonded and it makes him smile and trace his arm around your bare back.  You look with a smile into his visor.  Then slowly pull back the bundle of fabric they’re swaddled in.

“It’s a boy.”  You smile at Din.

Din slowly extends a gloved finger to the child who exudes a wet gasp then reaches up with his closed eyes and grasps Din’s large gloved finger.

“What should we call him?”  Din asks, nuzzling closer to you and getting more comfortable in the bed.

“I want him to have a Mandaloran name.  But something that holds my family name as well.”  You say gazing into your child's drowsy face.

“Shy-Tan.”  Din says, “Like your Mandalorian father.”

You mull it over a long moment then try out the name on the child,

“Shy-Tan.”  You smile, “What do you think, little guy?”  The child gurgles and hiccups.  You smile and look up to Din.

“Shy-Tan Djarin.”  You confirm.  Din slinks down in bed with his arm around you.  You cuddle Shy-Tan closer, “You’re going to change the universe, Shy-Tan.”

………………………………………………………

The Razor Crest approaches Mandalor and your breath hitches in your throat as you sit in the co-pilot’s chair.

“Don’t worry.  Everything will be fine.” Din tries to dissuade your worries to no use.  Shy-Tan begins to cry in your arms.

You divert your attention to him and stand up, bobbing him up and down and trying to shush him.

“I’m with the kid.”  Mayfeld pipes up from the jump seat behind the copilot’s chair, his legs kicked out and crossed casually upon a console as he grasps the bridge of his nose in exhaustion,  “You’re nuts if you think we can just walk into Mandalor and state ‘we good, right?’ and have them throw a welcome home party.”

“We have the first male Luc/Mandalorian child ever born.”  Din states as if it’s a question of “why wouldn’t they understand?”, with a shrug and head shake of confusion.

“Yeah.”  Mayfeld kicked his legs off the console and swiveled to face Din,  “That’s like saying, ‘Hey, I made a kid with the race that murdered a bunch of you and was exiled.  It’s wanted as a trophy because of the suffering it’s race put your planet through.  So can we, like, hang out here now?’ You think that’s gonna go over well?”  Mayfeld makes a good point that leaves Din frozen.  Mayfeld turns to you, “You wanna be any part of this?”  He puts you on the spot as you jolster Shy-Tan, nervously to try to stop him from crying and look busy to dodge the question.  You merely shush Shy-Tan some more and turn away from Mayfeld, shooting him an annoyed look, and move back further away from both of them in the cockpit, “See?”  Mayfeld throws his arms out, “Are you doing this for her, and your kid?  Or are you doing this for you?  Because you need justification?”  Din shakes his head to ignore Mayfeld with an annoyed sigh and goes back to busying himself on the controls that bring The Razor Crest into entering the atmosphere of Mandalor.

“I’m just sayin’ - Don’t make a poster child out of A CHILD.”  Mayfeld slaps a console as he swiftly turns and brushes past you out of the cockpit and into the cargo hold.

You’re still left bouncing Shy-Tan who is now quiet but you keep shushing him to fill the silence as you wander back and forth behind Din as he flies the Razor Crest into Mandalor.

“Do you not want to do this?”  He abruptly breaks the silence as the ship still slowly approaches the planet.

“I don’t.”  You say simply.  “But…” you continue hesitantly, “we have to.”  You stand next to his pilot’s chair and reach a hand down to grasp his shoulder. “For Shy-Tan.”

Din angles his visor up to you, “But Mayfeld is right?”  He asks solemnly.

You nod your head.

“Unfortunately… Mayfeld is right.”

……………………………..

The Razor Crest comes in for a slow landing on the docks of Mandalore and the cargo bay ramp extends mechanically.  Bo Katan stands far back with a line of Mandalorians on either side of the walkway leading up to her to greet your arrival… or protect them from you.  Din steps out with Mayfeld and they slowly stride down the ramp.  As you step with Shy-Tan bundled in your arms a few feet behind them the lines of Mandalorians power up their weapons and pull out their guns.  You stop dead in your tracks as Din turns back and holds out his hand to try to quell your worries.

“Put your weapons down.”  Bo Katan orders the Mandalorians and begrudgingly, the lines of Mandalorians look to each other and one by one holster their weapons  Din waits for you to catch up to him at the end of the ramp and slides a confirming arm around your back as he leads you forward to meet Bo Katan through the myriad of Mandalorian helmets that you can feel the seething hate from as you pass them.  You apprehensively stand in front of Bo-Katan who stands with crossed arms.

“We welcome you because Din Djarin saved our planet.”

“We thank you for taking us in.”  Din nods ceremoniously. 

“You and your child will be given housing on the outskirts of town where you can hide.  Your friend will be given lodging within the city.”

“Thank you.”  You finally speak up.  It catches Bo off guard that you would speak to her and her helmet snaps to you.  She leans in to you and lowers her voice,

“If you show one sign of violence I will shoot you and your child into the nearest sun.”  She threatens.  You’re shocked and look back to Din who merely holds an open palm in front of you to stop you from moving or reacting.

“We will protect you.”  Bo Katan nods then proclaims loudly.  “All Mandalorians will protect you. As long as you respect the ways of The Creed.”  There is some awkward shuffling amongst the lines of Mandalorians but no outwardly response.

“You need the waters of Mandalor.”  Bo states looking over your hunkered and diminished form, still weak and injured from giving birth. “Go there with the Armourer and heal your birthing wounds. There you will solidify the name of your child and confirm them into your Clan.”

You nod, meekly.

Bo nods at the Armorer that steps forward from the front of the line.

“Follow me.”  The Armourer commands.

With that, you leave the palace.  You, with Shy-Tan in your arms, Din leading you and Mayfeld taking up the rear, follow the Armorer who silently leads you down into the mines of Mandalor.  It seems to take hours as you weave and climb your way down into the center of the world until you find yourself standing in an underground cave, overlooking the dark waters of Mandalor.

“Go and sit in the waters of Mandalor with your baby in your arms and it will heal your wounds.”  The Armorer commands emotionlessly.  You nod, huddling Shy-Tan a bit closer to your chest as you kick off your boots.

“Wait.”  Din’s hand clasped your shoulder.  You turn to be face to face with his visor.  He raises his gloved hand and strokes your cheek.

“I love you.”  He whispers. 

“I love you to the end of the stars and back.”  You smile at him

“Be my Riiduur.”

He kneels down on one knee and takes your hand.

“All I’ve ever wanted is you.  I want to be part of you forever.”

You nod frantically.  “Yes.”  You whisper between your tears.

Din looks back to the Armorer who pauses, taken aback but trying to hide her reaction.

“All three of you must get into the waters of Mandalor.” She instructs.

You strode out, pushing against the dark water with Shy-Tan in your arms and Din holding your hand wading in by your side.

“The three of you are now bonded for life.  One shall never exist without the other.  Din Djarin, you have found your Riduur.  May the waters of Mandalor purify this unity and bring health, unity and security to your clan.  Stay here and let the waters of Mandalor heal past wounds so you can go forth with your new lives together. Repeat these vows to each other, ‘Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde’”

Both of you turn to each other and slowly repeat the vows to each other.

“It is now written in history.”The Armorer finishes.  She turns and coldly begins to walk out of the cave leaving the three of you standing waist high in the water.

“I was a witness.”  Mayfeld says excitedly, “You know, for the first Mandalorian/Luc wedding…”

The Armorer stops and slowly turns her head to Mayfeld.

“Witnesses are not required or noted for Mandalorian unions. Follow me out and let them be.”

Mayfeld turns while walking away,  waves and yells, “Congrats!” at the three of you and follows the Armorer out.  Before he was out of earshot you heard him question her, “So are you Riduured to anyone?” and hear The Armorer loudly sigh in frustration.

You smirk as you watch them leave and suddenly the cavern is completely silent except for the occasional drip of humidity off of the stalactites into the dark water.  The water ripples like silk as Din moves to you and pulls you close.

“How do you feel?”  he carefully whispers.

“You’re my Riduur now.  Ask me that with your helmet off and I’l give you an honest answer.”  You smile.

Din decompresses his helmet and tosses it to the shore.

His chocolate eyes flick back and forth searching your face as he wades in close to you.  There’s a slight smile that breaks out over his plush lips.  Then his eyes slowly close as he leans into you and you feel his aquiline nose nuzzle you, then his lips brush against yours and slowly open for his warm wet tongue to explore your hot, waiting mouth.

Your vision turns blinding white with fireworks as you arch back and let him trail his warm kisses and licks up your neck as he cradles your head.

“Let’s get to our new home.”  You stroke the side of his face as he slowly smiles a dimpled, stubbly jaw at you.

“Do you still have any pain?”  He asks, gently swirling you around him in the water.

“No”  You said, kind of shocked.  You didn’t feel any more birthing pains.  It was as if the waters of Mandalor had healed you and invigorated you.

“You can walk to the house?”  He asked.

“I could walk 1000 miles right now.”  You smile and bite his lip playfully.

“Good.”  He says grabbing you up in his arms and carrying you out of the water.  Just as he was about to leave the cavern there was a loud sloshing like a whirlpool that was emerging from the Waters of Mandalor.  Din turned with you in his arms and Shy-Tan tucked against your chest to see a giant pair of reptilian eyes emerge with a bubbling force from the waters. Din is shocked and slowly puts you down as you both stare at it, stunned.

“The Mythosaur…” You trailed off in awe.  “I thought it was just a wives tale.”  Din pulled you and Shy-Tan protectively closer to him and could only shake his head in awe as he looked at the eyes of the dinosaur poking out from the water, inspecting the three of you.  It gave out a giant huff of air that shot water and mist 20 feet into the air, gave one last slow blink, then slowly descended into the water again.  You looked at Din at the same time his helmet turned to you.

“That’s normal, right?”  You ask shakily.

“No.”  Din states in awe.

……………………………….

You get to your small house on the outskirts of town.  There’s nothing much in it other than a bed and a shotty crib with some tattered blankets but it’s more than you had worked with so far and were happy to have it, even though Din knew it was meant as a slap in the face from Bo Katan

You gently hummed Shy-Tan to sleep and laid him in the nest of rags in the crib.  Tucking him in lovingly,  Din stepped up and hovered over him, not able to find words as he stared at him.  He slowly reached out a gloved hand to touch him and you swatted it away.

“Don’t!”  You hissed.  “He’s been up all day.  And I want some time with my Riduur” you smile mischievously.

“Are you okay for….”  Din shifted uncomfortably.

“I don’t know what’s in that water but I feel amazing. I’m fully healed.”  You take his hand and lead him away from the crib and into you.  He hums his approval and you feel him getting hard underneath his flight suit. “You know… there’s a claw foot bath tub here….”  You smile sideways dripping with insinuation.

“Hm…  I remember last time I had to teach you how to use a bath…”

“Yeah.  I think I have a handle of it now.  Maybe we can do it together?”

“Then I guess I ‘d better make you dirty first…”  Din pulls at your pants and pushes them slowly down then you del his thick hands around your thighs and ass, his breath getting heavy.  “I love the feel of your wet pussy against your underwear.”  He moans in your ear as his hand feathers over your underwear.  You moan and throw your head back.  He slowly circles over your clit over top of your underwear and watches you wraith in anticipation.

“Don’t you do that to me, Din Djarin!” You whisper harshly to him as he teases you.

“No?”  He asks innocently as he slowly shifts back and forth, kneeling down until he’s between your thighs.  You hear his helmet depressurize as he lifts it off and places it on the ground next to him. You can feel his hot breath outside of your underwear and he blows softly over it to tease you.

You clench your thighs together, holding his head, locked in place.

“Mmm…. good girl.”  He moans.  You look down as his dark chocolate eyes stare up intently at you right before he looks gently down and dives into eating out your pussy like a man starved.  You watch as his face nods up and down, eyes down, watching your clit get more and more swollen.  Now and then he comes up for air and a small smile of pleasure forms on his face as he uses his hands to continue to feather and circle your clit, driving you into his controlled ecstasy.  He dives back in and you feel him nuzzle his aqualine nose against you over and over bringing you up and up to new levels.  Then his wet, warm tongue takes over, licking just one side of your clit, so gently you can barely feel it, but the teasing sends you into the stratosphere as your back arches and you silently gasp for air at the ceiling.  Your chest heaves, sweat drips between your breasts and you buck your hips wildly and uncontrollably.  He only dives in with more enthusiasm.  You try to pull him back from your overstimulated clit but he won’t relent and licks and sucks harder.

You scream out his name.

Your cum squirts across his face.  It drips down his chin and his hard cock only throbs more.

“Dirty girl” Din Growels and hungrily licks up your juices.

He grabs your wrist and leads you to the bathroom where he turns on the bath, beginning to fill it with warm water.  You fall to your knees and undo his belt letting hs hard cock spring out of his flight suit.  You lick you plush lips, readying yourself for the flavor of his member in your mouth.

Hungrily you lick the silky skin of it, feeling his vein throbbing and precum bead up in the slit of his head that you lick up needily.  You slowly open your mouth and softly engulf his penis as he grabs the back of your hair and arches his back feeling the pleasure pulse through him.  You gingerly lower ourself down the length of his hard cock, feeling it throbbing in your mouth and as you pull back up he moans loudly.  Your hand grasps he base of his member as you wildly bob up and down, your saliva mixing with his pre-cum making him rock hard and bucking into your face.  He thrusts over and over as tears stream down your cheeks, taking in the huge width and length of him, your tongue dancing all around him.  You feel his balls tighten and his cock heave as he’s about to cum and pull away before he can reach his plateau. He angrily lets out a long, frustrated, primitive grunt. The bath is ready.

You step into the warm, steaming water, leading him by his hand as he’s still lust drunk and pliable to whatever you ask of him.  He sits in front of you as you nestle up against the back of he claw foot tub.  Your arms wrap around him and grab his cock, slowly teasing and tickling him, bringing him up and up until he’s moaning out lout with pleasure and calling out your name.  His chest is heaving and hips are bucking into your hand.

Slowly you flip over on top of him and angle his cock to your entrance.  He looks up at you with wide, unsure eyes as he enters you then with a hard thrust sheathes himself fully into you.  His brows knit together and mouth drops open as you engulf him. You toss your head back and shout out in pleasure as his hand tangles in your damp hair to control you and he begins rutting into you.  His forceful thrusts fill you fully and make your body feel complete as he smiles and gently grunts into your neck and angles his head up to nip at your ear.

You find yourself cock drunk and arched towards the sky as he fucks up into you in the bath.  The coil inside of you tightens to an extreme and just as you thought it would snap he reaches down and begins quickly circling your clit, turning you into a wild animal. You’re both calling out into the quiet night, moaning and panting and begging then the cool snaps in both of you suddenly as you call out his name over and over, wildly riding him.  As he watches you become feral on top of him his own cock twitches, becomes rock hard and suddenly spurts inside of you like a geyser as thick ropes of cum paint your walls.  He clutches you closely to his body as he grunts and whines into your flesh, bucking wildly and uncontrollably.

Finally the motions stop and both of you fall back to earth.  With his cock still in you he gently kisses your forehead, closed eyes, cheeks, ear lobes, neck and collar bone until he’s run out of steam and slumps into your body that rests on top of him and both of you sink back into the water. You can hear gentle lapping of the warm water as he circles his hand on the steaming skin of your back, calming you as you catch your breath.

Shy-Tan can be heard rustling then crying in the other room and you moan your discontent.  Din raises a hand and shuffles up from underneath you in the bath.

“I’ve got it.”  He says pulling his body out of the bath.  He wraps a towel around himself.  “You stay here.  I like the idea of you bathing in my cum.”

He leaves to tend to your child.

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