#din djarin x reader x paz vizla | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

proxima-writes · 1 year

Text

title: at his side (in his bed)

pairing: mand’alor!din djarin x female reader x paz vizsla

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 2586

chapters: 1/1

summary:

They call you the whore of Mandalore.

Nothing more than the woman at side of the ruler of New Mandalore, Din Djarin, a pretty little prize that he likes to share with with his General Commander, Paz Vizsla.

Mandalorians have always been good at keeping their secrets.

AO3

author’s note: this is just filthy. if you enjoy, please consider leaving a comment as they really make my day 💕

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), explicit language, writer considers din his first name, alternate universe - Mand’alor din djarin, use of Mando’a, threesome (MFM), degradation kink, pet names (sweet AND derogatory), explicit breeding kink, spitroasting, unprotected p in v, oral sex (m&f receiving), come play, semi-public sex, dom/sub undertones, bratty reader, fingering, no plot just smut. let me know if any are missing!

Your mind has drifted as the political proceedings occurring around you continue to drone on with no end in sight. You’re not even sure why you’ve been brought here. It’s not like you’re being paid any attention.

As if conjured by your thoughts, a gloved hand grips your thigh beneath the heavy stone table. Fingers curl into the gauzy fabric of your gown. You have to bite your lip to prevent your face from giving any sort of indication that something salacious is occurring beneath the keen gazes of the gathered leaders.

“We will not agree to those terms. The mines are plentiful. We have no use for the imports offered by Dulvarra,” the deep modulated voice of the man beside you comments easily.

Din Djarin. Mand’alor. The ruler of New Mandalore.

You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He sits reclined in the high back stone chair, an elbow propped on the armrest. His visor remains trained on the Nemoidian representative while his hand creeps further up your thigh.

His fingers brush against your center, causing you to inhale sharply. This is one of the Mand’alor’s favorite games. He enjoys watching you squirm, trying to keep your thoughts straight and your whimpers caged as he works you beneath a table or in a crowded room. His helmet picks up your quiet sounds, amplifies them for his ears alone, and he revels in the opportunity to make you fall apart at the seams.

He lifts your leg, placing it across his knee, the cold bite of beskar against your skin forcing you to stifle a gasp. The gowns he has you wear are sheer, the bodice adorned with the crystals mined from the planet that was once thought uninhabitable in its destruction. They gleam around your neck and waist, pulling the layers of delicate fabric together to cover your body only just enough to not be obscene.

His hand explores beneath the fabric that covers your core, a gloved finger running through your slick folds. You swallow harshly, slumping against your seat, curling your fingers into the stone armrest. He circles your clit once, twice, before dipping lower and pressing to your soaked entrance. All the while, he appears stoic and unbothered, aided by his anonymity and power.

The Nemoidian’s eyes flick to you. It’s brief, and for a moment you think it goes unnoticed.

You should have known better.

Din’s hand leaves you to grasp the hilt of the Darksaber from his utility belt. A broad body shifts into a defensive stance near the door.

Paz Vizsla. Al’verde. General Commander of New Mandalore.

You wrap your hand around Din’s vambrace. His visor turns to regard you. You try to convey with your eyes what you are not permitted to with words.

The room is silent during the exchange, but bursts with noise when the Mand’alor turns his head to Paz and gives him a curt nod.

The whore of Mandalore, the voices murmur.

You have learned to ignore them. The speculation circulates around the mysterious leader of the once forgotten planet rather than it does you, a human he rescued from a slave trade ship. A pretty prize for the new ruler.

Nothing more.

Paz approaches the table, standing at rest behind your seat. He holds a hand out to you.

With a lingering glance at the Mand’alor, you take the General’s offered hand, leather warm against your skin. He holds an elbow to you for you to grasp as he leads you from the table, the weight of a dozen curious eyes on your back.

The man at your side is silent, muscles tense for a fight that will never come here in the empty halls of the new palace of Mandalore.

“How are you this evening, General?” You ask, fingers curling against the canvas of his flight suit.

“Well enough,” he grunts. He has always been a man of few words, your Paz.

“You know, I’m not sure I need an escort just to return to my quarters,” you comment.

Paz turns his head, the dark visor of his helmet free of expression as he says, “Do not play dumb. It is unbecoming.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“I am not in the mood,” Paz growls. You smirk.

“A shame,” you murmur, letting go of his elbow to walk ahead of him, adding an extra sway to your hips.

He catches up to you in a few steps, his arm circling your waist as he pulls you back against his broad body, his grip on you as solid as the beskar pressing against your exposed skin.

“Do not test me, veriduur,” he says. Whore. “Do you need to be reminded of your place?”

“My place,” you hiss, “is beneath the Mand’alor. Perhaps you should be reminded of yours, t’adyc.” Second. A reminder and a threat.

Paz turns you roughly and crouches, the press of his pauldron into your stomach the only warning you receive he lifts you in the air. You struggle against him, an exercise in futility, as he carries you down the hall, the echo of his steps and the smack of your palms on his armor the only noise to be heard.

The doors to your quarters open with a whoosh of air and Paz enters, taking immediate course for the large bed in the center of the room. The breath leaves your lungs as he tosses you onto the mattress, immediately tugging you by your ankle until your legs hang off the side of the bed, his wide hips keeping them pressed apart.

“Not so mouthy on your back,” he comments as he removes his utility belt and codpiece. “I suppose that’s why the Mand’alor likes you so much.”

“He seems to like my mouth just fine,” you reply with a raised brow. “I could show you, Al’verde.”

He works his flight plants over his hips. Though the helmet shields his face, you can imagine the fury twisting the man’s features. You’ve not seen him, not with your eyes, but you are intimately familiar with the feel of his lips between your legs, the drag of his stubbled chin across your skin.

His cock slaps against his thick middle when finally freed. “I would rather teach your cunt a lesson,” he growls, fisting his thick girth.

“Not one it hasn’t learned before, I’m afraid,” you reply, a deep sigh escaping your lips. Paz removes his gloves, scarred and calloused hands immediately ripping at the fabric of your dress to expose your body to him.

“Kriffing brat,” he snaps, slipping his fingers against your wetness, probing at your aching entrance. “Does my vod always let you get your way?”

Your back arches as his fingers slip into your tight heat and you fight to keep your sounds contained, wanting to drive Paz to fury with your insubordination. His fingers drag against your walls as he withdraws and lands a harsh smack against your clit that has you crying out.

“I asked you a question, atin dala.” Stubborn woman. The lilt of his voice is pleased now that he’s broken a sound from you.

“Of course he does,” you tell him, voice breathy. “His little prize. He’d do anything to keep me happy.”

He slides his cock through the obscene wetness coating you, his modulated groan like music to your ears. The fat tip of him pressing to your entrance, forcing your body to accommodate his size with a harsh thrust into your heat.

“Paz!” You shout, back arching from the bed as your fingers seek for desperate purchase against the smooth metal of the armor over his shoulders. He’s kind enough to hold still and let you adjust.

“That’s it, sweet little whore. You scream my name,” he growls as he withdraws slowly, thrusting back inside just as slow. “Who’s fucking your pretty little cunt?”

“Y-you, P-Paz,” you stutter. Your breasts bounce with the power of his hips, the fabric that once covered your nipples loosening and falling free in his ferocity.

“Does the Mand’alor fuck you like this? Hmm?” He asks. He uses a hand to grip the back of one thigh, pressing your legs so wide it almost hurts. “Tell me, does he fuck you better than me?”

To compare the two men would be unfair, the comparison of a sun versus a dark moon. Paz is harsh, hateful words laced with lust spilling from his lips when he’s buried to the hilt inside of you.

Din, despite his hard edges, is soft with you. Gentle touches and sweet words murmured against your skin.

Where Paz can break you apart, Din can put you back together. You crave both in equal measure.

“It is not a competition, vod,” a familiar deep voice says. You turn your head, the familiar figure of the Mand’alor emerging from the shadows. How long has he been there?

“Says you,” Paz grunts. “Words of a loser, isn’t that right?”

Din only chuckles.

You whimper when you hear the clink of armor being removed. Paz gives a particularly hard thrust that has you crying out and you hear the large man chuckle.

Din smooths a thumb across your lips. “Open for me, cyar’ika.” Sweetheart. The endearment makes your heart pound and brain go fuzzy as you obey. “So good for me. For us.”

“Speak for yourself, vod. She’s been nothing but a brat,” Paz says. “Guess she just needed something to keep that mouth occupied.”

The tip of Din’s cock slides against your tongue, the salty taste of him exploding across your taste buds. You moan as he slips deeper.

“Go dark,” Din commands roughly. Paz groans.

“No,” he replies, hips picking up speed, chasing his release.

“It was a command, Al’verde,” Din snaps.

Paz grumbles, his hips going still as you whine around Din’s cock. “You may blame your riduur for having to wait for your release.”

Riduur. Your husband.

It was known by very few that the whore at the Mand’alor’s side was actually his wife. Din keeps the knowledge close to his chest, knowing what an adversary may do with the information and never wanting harm to befall you on his behalf.

“Gone dark,” Paz confirms. He slides his cock nearly free from your body before slamming back inside with such force it shifts you up the bed.

“Di’kut.” Idiot. Din withdraws his cock from your mouth before removing his helmet. His eyes remain fixed on you as he stands from the bed to remove the remaining pieces of his armor.

“Make her cum,” Din says as he returns to your side, gripping a breast in one hand as he leans forward to wrap his lips around one tight nipple, flicking the sensitive nub with his tongue.

“That another command, Mand’alor?” Paz grunts. He maneuvers your body better to his liking, pressing your thighs together and draping your legs against his shoulder.

“Yes,” Din replies. His hand slides down your stomach to swirl his fingers around your clit. You shout, throwing your head back against the mattress in a drawn out moan of both men’s names.

“That’s it, cyare,” Din says. “Be good and let go. Paz won’t fill you up otherwise.”

That thread of control you still had snaps and your release washes through you, your muscles going taut as you clench around Paz. The man growls, a feral sound that makes you pulse and flutter around his length as his own warm release floods your body.

“Very good, mesh’la, get every drop from him,” Din murmurs. You whimper as he stretches to plant a kiss to your lips. His strong nose brushes yours tenderly when he pulls back.

Paz withdraws. You feel the warmth of his body leave yours, the slow trickle of his cum from your entrance making you blush. Din’s fingers slide through the mess, gathering it up and pushing it back in as you gasp.

“Return to your post, Al’verde. Our guests have left,” Din says to Paz, eyes never leaving yours. His fingers continue to work your over sensitive cunt as you whimper and writhe against him.

Paz rights himself in his armor before turning to leave. You hear the telltale clang of metal hitting a wall, followed by a litany of curses from the large man. Helm still dark, he’s collided with a wall.

“Kriffing wall,” he says, giving the offending architecture a curse before locating the door and exiting.

Din moves himself between your legs, the warmth of his hands trailing up your thighs leaving goosebumps across your skin. He grins down at you, boyish in the vulnerability he displays for you.

“You never did answer Paz,” he says casually, even as he settles on his stomach and trails his lips across your inner thigh. “Does he fuck you better than me?”

“No, my love,” you whine as his tongue swirls around your clit. He chuckles darkly.

“That’s what I thought.”

He eats your pussy like a starving man, more enthusiasm than finesse in his eagerness to please you. Because while he may be Mand’alor by battle and blood, you are the one he bows to in this life and the next.

Your hips move against his mouth, your fingers tangling in his thick dark hair. He works his tongue against you until you’re a whining mess, begging for his cock as he just shushes you for your impatience.

Finally, he sits up. His chin is glossy with your juices and his eyes are glassy with lust as he grips your hips and turns you on your belly, yanking your ass in the air.

He doesn’t waste time sliding inside of you, the length of him stretching you in a different way than Paz’s own thick cock did not. You gasp, fingers tightening in the sheets as he pounds against your backside.

“My riduur,” he says reverently. “Ner kar’ta.”

My heart.

“Din,” you moan. “Gedet’ye.” Please.

He groans, fingers curling into your hips in a manner sure to leave the shadows of bruises by morning. His thrusts grow more powerful, hitting a spot inside you that has another orgasm building so quickly your head goes fuzzy with the rush.

“I’m going to fill you to the brim,” he grunts. “Leave no room for failure in making you round with our child. Our future.”

Your cry is muffled against the sheets as you pulse around him with your release, so powerful that you collapse to the bed, only his broad hands on your hips keeping up for his use.

He presses deep inside you, coming with a shout of your name in the dark of the room. His cock pulses inside you, another wave of warm release filling you as you whimper his name.

Din removes himself briefly in order to help you lay on your side before settling in behind you, slipping his softening cock back inside your pussy.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” Din says as he presses his lips to your shoulder.

“I love you,” you repeat to him.

You’re both quiet for a moment. You trace patterns against the tan skin of the arm that he has around your middle.

“Din?” You ask.

“Yes, cyare?”

“What if the baby is Paz’s?” You ask. It’s a valid concern. Din likes sharing and you like to be shared.

“My only concern is how insufferable my vod will be,” he says.

You giggle, the tension easing from your shoulders.

“Rest now, riduur. There is more to be done tomorrow.”

Din Djarin tag list: @huffle-punk @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @mydailyhyperfixations @fake-bleach @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @kirsteng42 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @leeeesahhh @hopelessromantic727 @endlessthxxghts @str84pedro @brilliantopposite187 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @garbo-lesbo @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @uncassettodiricordi @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @dreamingofdaddydin @bearsbeetsbeskar @dindjarinslegs

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gabrielislovegabrielislife · 1 year

Text

Saving Ragnar

Paz Vizsla x reader

Mandalorian S3 E4 SPOILERS!

no beta read, we die like the younglings

1566 words, angst with a happy ending, no y/n

Literally just self-indulgence.

“Mom, are you sure I’m ready to start sparring with the others?”

“Of course you are sweetheart. Why wouldn’t you be?” I respond, brushing some dust off of his brand-new helmet.

“Well… I’m… I haven’t been with the covert as long as the other kids. What if I haven’t trained enough. What if I embarrass you and dad. What if–” I hold up a hand to stop him and pull him into a hug.

“Ragnar, you could never embarrass us. We love you very much and know you have trained more than enough. But failing in a sparring match will teach you things that you will not learn otherwise.” I take his hands and crouch so we are eye to eye, well… visor to visor, “remember what we have taught you and trust yourself.”

“I’ll try.” he sighs. I shake my head.

“Don’t try. Do.” I say softly.

“She’s right.” I hear from the entryway of our little home alcove. I see my husband leaning against the wall. He walks towards us and crouches next to me, putting a hand on Ragnar’s shoulder, “We are so proud of you, and no matter what happens today, we know you will learn from today.”

Ragnar takes a deep breath and nods.

“Come, the others have already begun training,” Paz says, standing up and patting our son on the shoulder. This seems to get the young boy excited, he practically runs out of the alcove.

“He will be fine cyare,” Paz says, putting an arm around my shoulders.

“I know that, but does he?” I sigh.

“Let’s go find out.”

….

A few minutes later, Ragnar has begun his first-ever sparring match.

It begins quite mildly, with a little bit of a scuffle as both children try to gain the upper hand, but Ragnar comes out on top, throwing his opponent in the sand.

Once declared the winner, he looks over to us, watching from a distance. I clang my vambraces together in excitement. He nods and brings his focus back to the judge. It is then that I notice Din’s little one standing across from Ragnar as if to challenge.

“Is he putting his baby into a match?” Paz asks no one in particular.

“He knows his child best,” I respond, continuing to watch as Din convinces the judge it will be ok.

Ragnar chooses to fight with darts to which Paz remarks, “good choice.”

While waiting for the training darts, Ragnar begins speaking to Din, asking why the child does not wear a helmet, then saying he is too young to fight. Din reminds him of part of the Creed, sounding a little bit passive-aggressive, but whatever, that's just Din.

I sigh when Ragnar speaks, “Well, I know.”

“Well, we know what he will learn today then,” Paz states, a smile in his voice at his son’s sass.

After a moment of Din teaching Grogu how to fire the darts, the match begins.

The first two points go to Ragnar, quite easily, seeing as Grogu looked like he did not know what to do.

After another brief talk from Djarin, the next round begins.

Ragnar fires his dart the same as before, but this time, the small child jumps out of the way and completely over him, then back to his original position, firing all three darts and winning the challenge.

Ragnar looks around, confused, before looking back at us. I nod to him as Paz says, “One doesn’t speak unless one knows.”

Ragnar visibly sighs before walking toward an empty part of the beach to calm down.

“A valuable lesson has been learned today,” the Armorer speaks up, “go make sure he remembers it.”

We both nod and begin walking toward our son, but the flying beast comes flying over the mountain.

My heart stops, this creature has been picking us off for weeks, and it is flying directly toward the easiest target.

My son.

I'm not even sure I'm breathing as I take to the sky, willing my jetpack to go faster and faster, but it is still not enough. The beast is getting further and further ahead, Ragnar still flailing in its talons.

My pack begins to run out of fuel and I feel tears streaming under my helmet. I whisper, “please…no.”

I am forced to land, Paz and Din not far behind.

Even though I can't fly, I can still run, so I do. I don't even think as I hurdle over rocks and bushes, ignoring the burning in my legs and lungs.

I don’t notice my husband and friend running behind me to stop me until they each grab one of my arms.

“No! We have to get him! I can’t lose him!” I scream, fighting to get out of their hold.

“We can’t get him like this, we need to regroup. Look,” Din points, “Bo-katan is following the beast to its nest. When she comes back we will know exactly where it is.” he reasons.

I take a deep breath, following the ship with my eyes.

….

When Bo-katan vets back to the covert she immediately proposes a plan to save the boy.

We leave the covert within the hour and land where we have to start walking.

The sun is setting by the time we reach the peak holding the nest.

We make camp for the night. I help prepare the food, thankful for something to keep my mind off of my son, who will have to spend the night alone and scared in the lair of the beast.

Din explains how meals work in groups like this as the food is distributed.

Bo stands up to find somewhere to eat, but Paz stops her. “You are the leader of the war party. You have the honor of staying by the fire. This is the Way.” he says, taking my hand so we can find a place to eat together.

We eat in silence, having nothing to say in this solemn environment.

Fifteen minutes later, our helmets are back on, and we are back with the group, settling down for the night.

Sleeping on the ground next to my husband is not an unfamiliar experience, but it seems wrong to sleep when my child is not safe at home, surrounded by his family. I stay silent I feel tears reach my eyes.

Paz seems to sense my distress in his sleep as he pulls me closer to him, mumbling nonsense as he dreams.

Eventually, my tears fade and the feelings of fear and sadness in my heart are replaced with resolve, we will get our son back.

I don't know when or how I fell asleep but I am woken by my husband, who is gently shaking my shoulder.

The second I remember where we are and why, I’m up.

We have a short breakfast before re-stating the plan and beginning the climb up the peak.

Reaching the bundle of branches and sticks, I notice the eerie silence within the nest. Once we reach the edge of the nest, Din scans the area, pointing out heat signatures from the left.

Paz takes off immediately, against everyone’s protests, “He’s my son!” he says running in the direction Din pointed, shouting for our son.

He is knocked over by three baby beasts screeching and snapping at him, hungry for food. The mother comes flying up to the nest, alerted by the babies’ noise.

Paz covers himself with parts of the nest, trying to hide from the bird.

The bird begins regurgitating something for the young ones, and I almost lose my grip on the edge of the nest when I see that something is my son.

“Help me!” he calls out when he sees us.

I let out a breath of relief as Paz exclaims “He's alive!”

Paz activates his jetpack, flying toward the creature’s face to get it to drop Ragnar. The beast holds Paz in its mouth and Ragnar in its talons as it takes off, the war party not far behind.

Bo-katan is the first to attempt to grab Ragnar, getting smacked down by a wing in the process.

I am the next one to approach, grabbing Ragnar’s hand and pulling. He didn't budge.

I latch onto the creature’s ankle, pulling out my blade to get it to loosen its grip.

I didn't account for getting scratched off the leg by the other foot, earning deep gashes on my elbow and side.

I cry out as I fall, spinning out of control until I steady myself with my pack, landing on the side of a peak.

Paz is then released from the beast’s jaws as Bo-katan stabs its face. He lands right next to me, groaning in pain.

“Are you alright?” I breathe.

“Yes, you?”

“I’ll live,” I respond, holding a hand to one of the deeper gashes.

We watch as Din lands a successful stab at the creature’s ankle. It drops Ragnar and Din races to stop his fall.

He latches onto Ragnar just as the others take down the beast, flying him over to where we hold on to the rocks.

When they land Paz firmly asks, “are you okay?” Ragnar clambers over to me, clinging to my chest before breathlessly answering, “I’m okay dad.”

“Thank you,” I say to Din over Ragnar’s helmet.

“This is the Way” he replies

“This is the Way” we echo.

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moon-sang · 2 years

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Me: Reads hundreds of Mandalorian x reader fanfics

Also me: Accidentally learns Mando’a

#Mando x reader #Din Djarin x reader #Din x reader #The Mandalorian x reader #Paz Vizla x reader #Paz x reader #Cobb Vanth x reader #It's true I have

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hotpinkboots · 1 year

Text

SOOO....

*lip smack*

Howzabout Yandere!Din x Reader, where the Reader was Paz's wife and Din comforts her after he dies, and Din is secretly like "yesyesyesyesyes" because he's wanted (Y/N) all along and has been super jealous of Paz but now he's DEAD SO (Y/N) IS ALL HIS

#pinkie speakie #CACKLES VIOLENTLY AND THROWS HANDS IN THE AIR WHILE LIGHTNING CRACKS AROUND ME #mando #the mandalorian x reader #yandere din x reader #yandere Mando x reader #paz viszla #paz vizla x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian season 3 spoilers #the mandalorian s3 spoilers #mando spoilers #yandere din djarin x reader

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lesbii-enne · 1 year

Text

Di’kut

(Part one)

You didn’t mean to stumble across the covert, you merely meant to find new parts for your star cruiser and maybe a new gig as a mechanic.

Part two: part three:

Translations below

You stepped out of your cruiser onto the desert planet. The scorching sun met your helmet as you stepped out and surveyed the land. The sketchy buildings and market were the first to catch your eye.

“This looks like a shit hole,”

Looking back at my star cruiser you say

“Guess we’ll fit right in then, huh shit box?”

Walking through the market of the secluded planet people gawked, not exactly surprising considering most mandalorians have previously been wiped out. Only a few left to scourge the planets and do kriff knows what. You overheard some of the towns people speak of the ‘other mandalorians’ you nearly stopped right there and begged to know where they were. But you didn’t, you had to keep it together, no matter how much you had longed to be with your own kind. You were fine on your own. Kriff sake you hadn’t even seen another mandalorian since the purge. You continued walking; looking through the market you found some parts for your ship, though you did have to haggle a bit since you were a bit cheap.

“500 credits? Kriff no that part is barely worth 200 credits! I could get a better deal on kamino!”

Your voice modulator hummed

The shopkeeper mumbled something like ‘can’t have shit on Kamino.’ but you ignored it. You were lying your ass off but you were good at it.

“Fine I can do 400 credits.”

“300.”

“350.”

“Fine.”

You handed over the credits and took your parts back to your ship. That part was worth 500 at the least but you got one hell of a discount for it. Seeing your ship in the distance you sped your walking. In a moment you heard shuffling and whipped around to a tall mandalorian in shiny beskar armor charging you. You flung your parts away from you and grabbed hold of your vibroblade and blaster. Aiming the vibroblade towards him swinging at him and catching his breastplate with a screeching noise. Leaving an ugly scar in his armor. Kicking his leg out you fell back landing on the ground with a ‘thud’ and had the air knocked out of you. He kneeled over you and demanded

“Who are you?”

You raised your leg wrapping it around the man’s torso you rolled the both of you over. Now you kneeling over him with your blade held at his throat

“A stormtrooper obviously.”

You could feel the glare of the man through his helmet. You began to get up grabbing him just above the wrist you pulled him up.

“We’ll if you don’t mind, I’m going to get back to repairing my ship so I can get out of this shit hole thanks.”

You could feel his confusion and you turned back again

“Look I’m not trying to hunt you or the ‘other mandalorians’ that I heard about in the market. I just came to this planet to get parts and get back to work fixing ships.”

You began to walk again

“Come to the covert.”

You looked at him quizzically, tilting your helmet a little as you stared.

“I do not really have a choice in the matter do I?”

“No.”

“Well may I at least put my parts in my ship?”

He agreed. You hauled your various parts back to your ship and put them in a storage unit in your ship. You debated ditching him and getting away from this planet but your ship was in no shape to escape with. You ultimately left your ship and followed the large burly man and you rejoiced at the thought of seeing your kind once again.

The two of you navigated the market and past the small village to wherever the ‘covert’ was. You decided to speak up

“Do I get to know your name or must I call you tin can ?”

He glanced down at you

“Din Djarin, but you may call me Din.”

“Alor Din Djarin?”

“You may just call me Din, what clan do you belong to?”

“I am of the Verde clan, though it isn’t much of a family now as I am the last of the Clan Verde.”

He nodded and the rest of the walk remained silent. You came to the top of a dune and saw the encampment below just past a large glittering lake. You saw children playing in their oversized mandalorian helmets. You two began to descend from the dune and towards the camp. Mandalorians began toward you, alor Din began to push through them until there stood a large man clad in Blue beskar.

Oh look another fic and it’s Paz Vizsla! Yay I have most of part two as a draft right now so it should be out soon. If there are a lot of errors let me know it’s a little late and I just wanted to push out something before I went to sleep lmao.

Translations:

alor: leader, boss, basically anyone higher ‘rank’ than oneself.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #Paz Viszla #paz visla #paz vizla #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla x reader

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0celesteisthebest0 · 1 year

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I’ve been wanting to do this for a while but I haven’t had any time as a late so better late than never right! I got inspired by @saradika from the stardust reblog challenge she is doing at the moment. But instead of doing it monthly I decided to do a whole masterlist of the fics I’ve read since making this blog! I haven’t had a lot of time to read and comment lately so I hope this masterlist can show my appreciation!

Also this fic rec masterlist comes with a warning a majority of these works are 18+ please respect this warning and do not read this content if you are underage.

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—Aaron Hotchner—

Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity by @maybege

Summary: As the newest addition to the BAU you have a hard time feeling confident in your new position – especially when you very attractive and very divorced boss keeps doubting. But when you finally get the chance to prove yourself, Aaron Hotchner’s opinion of you did not seem to be so bad in the first place.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings/Tags: Older Man/Younger Woman, Boss/Employee Relationship, slow burn, yearning, canon-typical violence, canon divergence

—Benny Miller—

Benny miller headcanons part 1, part 2 and part 3 by @softanon 18+

Summary: A list of wonderful headcanons that get into the character of Benny miller from his childhood to military life. Dia goes into the complex relationship he has with Will and in relationships.

Warnings/Tags : Mentions of violence and blood, language, mention of sex, Fem! reader Implied in part 3.

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Benny thots by @softanon

Summary: Untitled semi-public sex with Benny Miller/fem!reader. 18+ only.

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You can do that on purpose part 1 and part 2 by @softanon

Summary: Benjamin Miller learns a curious fact about vaginal sex he was previously unaware of. Set about ten years before the movie.

Warnings/tags :Benny/fem!reader, 18+. Sexual topic of conversation, swearing, friends with benefits, conversations about sexual health/birth control, swearing, mention of alcohol, vaginal sex (fingering and PIV), dirty talk.

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La primera fiesta by @marvelousmermaid

Pairing: Benny Miller x Latina!Reader

Summary: Benny is finally going to attend a family event with you and it makes you so nervous. He’s already met the important and immediate family sure but this is a cousin’s birthday party and Benny will stand out.

Warnings: food/eating mentions, comments toward male body (not technically negative. iykyk), overbearing Tìas!

—Boba Fett—

Arise, ascend by @zinzinina 18+

Summary: They don’t tell you much when they take you to Boba Fett’s palace. Only that he needs a healer, and you happened to be the first one they’d found. You’ve heard his name whispered plenty of times, enough that you’re prepared to hate him; fight him; hurt him if necessary, despite your fear. You’re wrong.

Pairing: Boba Fett x F!Reader

Warnings/tags: Apparent abduction, description of injuries, mention of canon-typical violence, slow burn, eventual smut, age difference.

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Midnight special by @maybege 18+

Summary: After an exciting fling in a bar, you and Boba enter a secret relationship that mostly takes place in motels where you pay for the hour. But when your friend invites you to her family’s BBQ, you meet under drastically different circumstances.

Pairing: hot dad!Boba x fem!Reader

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Sick hcs by @saradika

Summary: “What the bucketheads would do if you were feeling really sick, but you didn’t want to tell them?”

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Skinny dipping with Boba by @zinzinina

Pairing: Boba Fett x F!Reader

Warnings: The tiniest bit of non-explicit nudity

—Din Djarin—

Seed pearls by @zinzinina

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Warnings: Arranged marriage, mention of death, mild canon-typical violence, descriptions of abduction, unprotected PIV sex, contraceptive conversation, clothed male/unclothed female, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal fingering, inexperienced reader, aftercare.

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Sleepy sex by @saradika

Pairing: Mand’alor Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: somno, oral (m and f receiving), established relationship (married), PiV, lots of fluff

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Sick hcs @saradika

Summary: “What the bucketheads would do if you were feeling really sick, but you didn’t want to tell them?”

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Idyllic by @ohheyitsokay

Pairing: Din Djarin x (f) reader

Warnings: 18+, explicit, uhhh lots of praise and body worship, tons of fluffy smut, p in v sex

Summary: waking up with Din is best when you have nowhere to be.

—Ezra (Prospect)—

The mirror @littleferal

Rating: explicit. Warnings: anal sex, cockwarming, edging, ezra has his own tag, dirty talk, mirror sex, sex toy mention (nipple & clit clamps) but no actual use

Excerpt To say this isn’t what you imagined when you first found the mirror would only be half a lie. Oh you’d known Ezra would want to take you apart slowly, but you hadn’t thought it’d be like this.

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Trust by @ohheyitsokay

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect) x reader

Warnings: none, pining, fluff fluff fluff

Summary: the inherent intimacy of sharing space

—Fennec Shand—

Songbird by @writeforfandoms

Warnings: Some violence, nothing explicit. Very overwhelmed reader.

Pairing: Fennec Shand x GN! reader

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I’ll be your princess too by @tiffdawg

Pairing: Fennec Shand x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Rated: E | Warnings: NSFW – explicit sexual content, Fennec gives the strap, cum as lube, squirting, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk. Open relationships; reader is also involved with Boba Fett. Mild language. 18+ only.

—Frankie ‘ Catfish’ Morales—

Sleep @ohheyitsokay

Pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only!! sexual content (lots of grinding and kisses and dry humping, there are so many words and somehow no actual sex sorry about that), implications of PTSD/trauma, lots of cuddles and intimacy and fluff

Summary: sleeping with someone in a non-sexy way is as intimate as sleeping with them in a sexy way, at least for Francesco. You make him want both, despite the vulnerability

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Catch by @scribbledghost

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales/Reader (no y/n, gender neutral)

Warnings: none

Summary: Frankie finds a friend in the yard and wants to show you.

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Frankie thots @littleferal 18+

Summary : Frankie saying something that makes you laugh in surprise while you two are in the middle of it and he gasps, stilling in his movements before looking up at you in something akin to awe for a moment.

Pairing : Frankie Morales x reader

—Marcus Moreno—

thinking with Marcus by @ohheyitsokay

Summary: Soulmate AU where you could hear fragments of what your soulmate is thinking of

Warnings: a little angst, brief mention of Marcus’ wife passing

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x reader

—Oberyn Martell—

The day she lost her heart @captainstormborn

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand

Warnings/Tags: Hurt no comfort, Major Character Death, Oneshot.

—Paz Vizla—

A little piece of heaven by @maybege

Summary: Williamsdale hates people “like him” and Paz hates Williamsdale, so it’s a perfect fit. Content with living from day to day, Paz’s life takes a sharp turn when he meets you and he is reminded of the life he once dreamed of. But navigating a new relationship can be hard when there is an unplanned pregnancy that makes things even more unpredictable.

Pairing: biker!Paz Vizsla x teacher!fem!Reader

Rating: E(18+ only!)

Tags/Warnings: Modern AU, Biker AU, unplanned pregnancy,

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Tattoos with Paz by@ohheyitsokay

Summary: where your soulmate's name appears as a tattoo, with Paz

Pairing: Paz Vizla x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ description of piv sex, oral sex, fingering, rapidly falling in love

—Poe Dameron—

Red string with Poe by @ohheyitsokay

Summary: Poe and red string of fate

Pairing: Poe Dameron x reader

Warnings/ Tags : death mention, canon-typical violence, angst with a happy ending

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Directions by @zinzinina

Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Warnings: Experience vs. inexperience, descriptions of sex-related anxiety and insecurity, praise kink, encouragement kink, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV, overstimulation, implied cum eating. Anything you think I’ve forgotten that needs to be flagged, please let me know.

—Triple Frontier—

Poly frontier by @ohheyitsokay

Summary: A masterlist full of wonderful poly frontier fics! Contains a list of immersive stories that expand on the relationships between Will (Ironhead) Miller, Santiago (Pope) Garcia, Francisco (Catfish) Morales, Ben (Benny) Miller, and a female reader.

Warning: All works go under 18+, accept this warning!!

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Delayed gratification by @softanon

Summary: Sending the TF boys lewds/nudes while they’re busy

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gn!reader. Separate thots for Will, Santiago, Frankie, and Benny. Language and non-explicit allusions to naughty pics/audio sent to one’s lover.

—Jack “Whiskey” Daniels—

Multitudes by @scribbledghost

Summary: The Statesman techs have managed to create a window into another universe. A window that just so happens to appear in your kitchen. Before long, you and Whiskey both find yourselves developing feelings that appear to span across time and space itself. Multitudes chronicles the relationship of one smitten cowboy and his interstellar lover.

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x reader

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Fragile normality by @scribbledghost

Summary: Just a few weeks after the events of Shadows, you finally go back into town to see what damage has been done. Over the next few weeks, you spend time trying to decide whether to reveal your Minotaur lover’s existence to your neighbors, and Jack wrestles with the emotional repercussions of what he did to keep you safe during the mimic creature invasion.

Pairing: Minotaur!Agent Whiskey x Reader

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Forgotten creatures by @scribbledghost

Pairing: Minotaur!Agent Whiskey x Reader

Summary: While their patented AlphaGel treatment is still in development, one Agent Whiskey becomes its first human test subject. But goes terribly wrong, and he comes back from the dead as something not quite human - a modern Minotaur. Years after he’s abandoned in a Statesman basement, he becomes a myth, a legend no one seriously expects to exist. One day you venture inside his lair, urged on by your peers to see if you can find the “Statesman Monster”. What you find instead is something very different and distinctly human.

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Agent whiskey masterlist by @scribbledghost

Summary: I’ve read the majority of Ghosts Whiskey works and this masterlist right here is a comprehensive love letter in a way to a character the movie didn’t give props to! This masterlist is just beautiful and contains tons of whiskey works!

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Tennessee Waltz @softanon

Summary: Jack Daniels remembers dancing.

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Honeysuckle by @softanon

Warnings/Tags: Implied fem reader. Kissing and oral sex, a hint of overstimulation. 18+ only

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Sleeping habits by @littleferal

Summary: A list of sleeping headcanons regarding Agent Whiskey

Warnings/Tags: mention of anxiety, co-dependency and separation issues. mild angst

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Teasing by @ohheyitsokay

Pairing: Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x reader

Warnings/Tags: extremely mild implications of sex at some point, kissing and cuddles

Summary: the power you hold over Jack Daniels lies in the fact that he adores you

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Just us by @ohheyitsokay

Pairing: Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x (f) reader

Warnings/Tags: discussion of not wanting children, brief mention of trauma (the accident), brief mentions of sex, generally sweet and cozy

Summary: Jack and you both grow into what you want (and don’t want?) for the future

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Letters of consent by @ohheyitsokay

Pairing: Jack Daniels x (f) reader

Warnings: 18+ , strong language, sex-pollen (but ✨consensual✨), p v sex, oral sex (f receiving), filth, elle not knowing how to write smut like a normal person

Summary: elle's therapist brain went off the rails again and this is what came of it. Jack needs someone to sign his papers and the only one he wants in a time of crisis is you.

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Singing with Whiskey by @ohheyitsokay

Summary: You can hear your soulmate sing.

Pairing: Whiskey x reader

Warnings/Tags: brief mentions of trauma?

—Javier Peña—

Curriculum Vitea @tiffdawg

Summary: After leaving Colombia and retiring from the DEA, Javier Peña steps into a new role as a university professor. A woman with multiple degrees and more books than you can count, you meet Javier as you similarly struggle with the future of your career. Despite your odds, the two of you find something you need in each other during uncertain times.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

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How Javi met… by @jedifarmerr

F!Reader (no y/n, no physical description, established backstory).

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: mostly set post-season 3. Slow burn, kinda enemies to friends to lovers, eventual smut, semi-accurate timeline - cannon compliant. language, drinking, smoking. Sexual situations. Age gap is ambiguous (Both reader & Javi’s age never explicitly stated).(individual warnings on each chapter)

Story is loosely based on Harry Met Sally

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Pobreceito By @ohheyitsokay

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader

Warnings: none, pining, yearning, enough fluff to fill a couch cushion

Summary: you hide that you know Spanish long enough to accidentally sort of hear Javi fall in love with you

—Will miller—

Will Miller headcanons part 1 @softanon

Summary: Headcanons of Will and his childhood

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Patience @ohheyitsokay

Pairing: Will (Ironhead) Miller x (f)reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+, explicit, edging, piv sex, oral (m receiving) gosh. just a lot of fluffy filth. I'm not even sorry, but let me know if I should add anything

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Touching and tattoos with Will by @ohheyitsokay

Summary: A soulmate AU with Will. Knowing your soulmate when you touch. Tattoos blossom where you touch your soulmate for the first time.

Pairing: Will Miller x reader

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flightlessangelwings · 1 year

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WIP tag game!

Rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have wips!

Tagged by the lovely @wildemaven 💖💖

Trust and Intuition rewrite

Bartender Peter Parker

Bodyguard Frank Castle

Frankie/Santi protectiveness

Will Miller cnc

Shane x reader Joel

Benny Miller phone number

Joel Miller lingerie

Neighbor!Steven Grant smut

Loki protectiveness

Javi Gutierrez protectiveness

Paz

No pressure tags @rae-gar-targaryen @startrekkingaroundasgard @bitchin-beskar @lovesbiggerthanpride @fromthedeskoftheraven @writingsoftheloser 💖💖

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #joel miller x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #frank castle x reader #frankie morales x reader #santiago garcia x reader #benny miller x reader #steven grant x reader #javi gutierrez x reader #paz vizla x reader #Paz viszla x reader

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soaronmywings · 9 months

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It's been awhile... Again.

My sincerest apologies, it seems I had disappeard without a trace once again. But, like always, I'm back. I'm attempting to get back into the groove of things, getting used to writing again.

And up first is the second part to A second Chance.

It's one of my favorite things i've written, so I'm going to try and continue it. I'm also working on chapter 9 of Destiny's Calling.

With that one, it's taking a lot out of me because going back and looking at what I've written, a lot of it makes no sense. It sucks, I hope I can salvage it, but maybe not.

It there are any requests, some small things so I can get back into it, I'd love to do them!

Right now I'm staying in the Star Wars Relm, I'm no where near caught up with Mayans, and have no motivations for Sons of Anarchy.

So please, feel free to request anything you'd like!

#star wars #kylo ren #din djarin #din djarin x reader #kylo ren x reader #paz vizla x reader #star wars x reader

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tarrensbookmarks · 23 days

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Star Wars

➼ Kino Loy ‣I Want You to Show Me Weak by tarabyte3 Kino Loy x F!Reader

➼ Din Djarin/The Mandalorian ‣Still of Your Hand by moonlight-prose Din Djarin x F!Reader ‣Sleepy Sex by saradika Din Djarin x F!Reader ‣Home Is Wherever I'm With You by saradika Din Djarin x F!Reader

➼ Boba Fett ‣Dance of the Desert Snake by seriowan Boba Fett x F!Reader ‣Maybe I Just Wanna Be Yours by saradika Boba Fett x F!Reader ‣Ex Libris by daimyosprincess Professor!Boba Fett x F!Librarian!Reader

➼ Paz Vizla ‣Bold by flightlessangelwings Paz Vizsla x F!Reader

➼ Cad Bane ‣Expensive Tastes by eloquentmoon Cad Bane x Rich!F!Reader

➼ Crosshair ‣Insufferable by thrawns-babygirl Crosshair x F!Reader [Part One] [Part Two] ‣Show Me by thrawns-babygirl Crosshair x F!Reader ‣Keeping it Casual by clonecyare Crosshair x F!Reader

dividers by saradika-graphics

#star wars fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #crosshair x reader #paz vizsla x reader #cad bane x reader #boba fett x reader #kino loy x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #andy serkis fanfic #star wars smut

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nerdieforpedro · 11 days

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We have two Wavelengths

Din Dajrin x plus size female reader

This blog overall is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2k

Summary: You and Din have grown closer since you’ve joined the Razor Crest. A trip to his coven is rather informative and inspires some new thoughts.

Warnings: Two nervous people, maybe a sort of interrogation, we're still all about the hands, actual good advice?, forehead bumps are scandalous!, so are dreams at times, Nerdie is not serious with these tags

Notes: Paz Vizla and The Armorer make an appearance! ☺️ Are they helpful? Maybe. We’ll see.

Main Masterlist/ Din Djarin Masterlist/ Our Journey Across The Star Ocean Series

He told me to call him Din six months ago. Things changed then. For one, I finally knew his name. It’s…fun to say. I’m not sure what that means, I don’t think I say in a weird way, it’s just after calling him ‘Mando’ for so long it’s so good to know his actual name. We’ve been holding hands when sitting in the cockpit together, often without his gloves on. I’m not exactly sure how important that is, but it holds some significance given he’s normally covered head to toe. Even when we make stops to refuel or for different jobs, Din normally has a hand gloved or not on me somewhere. I thought I would be a lot more nervous about the more public display, but I enjoy it. I wonder how I can show him how I feel too, wait how do I feel?

I mean he did buy me a new work apron (I couldn’t stitch my old one back together. The different patches were coming apart.) and a sort of vest he said to wear when we’re going after bounties. He came back with it a month after we visited ‘The Armorer.’ The name sounds ominous, but she was very kind and had a booming laugh. I feel like if there was ever a time I could picture Din’s helmet turning red with embarrassment, it was when she asked him if I was his ‘riduur (wife/partner).’ That’s clearly something else important because he looked at me while answering and said, “we haven’t discussed anything about that yet. She has equal say in it.” Maybe it means like a full partner in bounty hunting endeavors or something. The way she chuckled makes me think she was teasing him a bit. I thought his body language would only be that stiff around Peli. But he eventually loosened back up in calling me over to shake hands with her. Grogu knows The Armorer well as he jumped in her arms and patted her golden helmet. She planned to take measurements of me and told Din to go check in with someone named Paz. He didn’t seem enthused about this at all but did as she asked.

“You know his true name I assume. This denotes a high level of trust in you.” Walking around me, her head tilted back and forth. “You have been traveling with him for a little under a year, yes?” I nodded to her question and held my arms out as she took a measuring tape off the wall of her forge. “You know not what is under his armor, correct?”

“He’s never removed his helmet in front of me. He would never do that.” It’s a slight sting when I say it, but it’s one of the essential tenets of his creed so even if I’d love if he did, I’d never ask him to do something like that. I feel her touch the blaster on my hip before going to scribble something down and returning to take more measurements.

“Djarin gave you this did he not? Has he given you anything else?” The Armorer sounds genuinely curious with this question. I nodded and told her about my new work apron he recently got for me and a dark green scarf to tie my hair back when I’m out and about. But Grogu normally plays with it and likes to sleep with it sometimes, so I have a yellow one he got me as well as a backup. She’s stroking the bottom of her helmet where I assume her chin might be. “I shall create something for you. You are welcome back here anytime. I will let Djarin know of this as well. Oh! Take this.” She hands me a retractable knife that looks just like Din’s armor. I know what material that is.

“Ma’am this is beskar. I’m not…I can’t take this. It’s only for Mandalorians right?” I’m starting to wonder if she’s testing me, like would you accept something you know you’re not supposed to have just because Din was cool with bringing you here? Hmm? Her laugh fills all the space in her forge, and she claps her hand on my shoulder.

“Consider it a welcome gift my dear. The fact that you’re here already means you have been accepted. Not quite the same as us given our different ways, but I can tell you mean no ill will. Most critical - you respect and care for him and his foundling deeply. If you did not, you’d have met my hammer swiftly.” I feel equal parts relieved and frightened. Din returns with a towering Mandalorian in navy blue beskar. The armor varies greatly, and I wonder if the colors are just personal preference or have other meanings. The navy-blue armor nods in my direction and leaves back down the hallway. The Armorer whispers one more thing to me before picking up Grogu who’s been playing with a dome on the ground. It could be a shield, or shoulder pad? No, the right name for it was…pauldron! “When you get back to the ship and before you rest for your next journey, tap your forehead to the top of Djarin’s helmet. You’ll be wishing him to get you all to your destination safely.” I could hear the smile as she instructed me, and she’s gone to meet Din near a wall of weapons he’s looking through. I feel like that holds significance as well, but again I don’t know what. I’m going to need to add all these to the notes I’ve been keeping about Mandalorian culture.

My vest the Armorer made me had a small gold wrench symbol over the left chest where the entirety of the armor was silver like Din’s. It’s so beautiful but heavy so I needed help putting it on and taking it off for a while until I got more used to it. Din still offered to help me put it on sometimes, so I let him, it’s also another time he doesn’t wear his gloves so I feel his hands on my shoulders and arms.

I did as The Armorer told me that day when we got back to the ship. Grogu was in his bassinet near my cot. I told Din to get some rest himself and held his hand like I normally do before I leave. This time, I closed my eyes and leaned down to touch my forehead to his cool beskar. I lingered for a few extra seconds and didn’t realize that I had placed my other hand on his breastplate. “Good night Din. Don’t forget to rest too. You’re going to show me some of the basic controls one of these days so you can sleep too.” I bid him goodnight and went off to sleep, recalling his humming. He normally does that when he’s pleased so it was worth feeling a little silly.

Maker I think I’ve done a bit too much. Not that I didn’t want to, I actually want to do more. I’d like to give her the same type of hug Grogu does after one of his naps, snuggled up against her. But I can’t, well I could, but I might set off all the sensors in my armor if I do that. Things have been going smoothly. Her work apron had seen much better days so I got her a new one that’s much more durable and of better quality. This combined with the blaster and two scarves is quite a bit, I’ve pretty much proposed. I’m investing in her, she’s my…well partner for now. We’ve been together nearly a year, that’s enough time. I’ve seen outside of Mandalorian culture I’m supposed to get a ring for her. Figuring the size will be easy. I’ve decided to take her with me on my next delivery of beskar to the coven.

Every other time, I hate Paz. With the burning passion of The Armorer’s forge when she melts down the beskar I bring, but on this single matter. The mir’sheb (smartass) is right. I told him how our interactions had been so far, exchanges and the like.

“Sounds like you haven’t really told her anything and have just been giving her stuff without context dumbass. She’s not one of us, how is she supposed to know?” I hate that this nerf herder is correct. I need to have an actual conversation with her about everything. “Has she seen your face Din? You aren’t so far gone that you forgot that, did you?”

“No she has not. She respects the creed. She’s never asked me to do anything to dishonor it.” I had gone with Paz to visit some members of the coven whom I hadn’t seen for a while. We weren’t particularly close, but it’s always best to say hello at least. I’m not sure what conversation The Armorer would have wanted to have with her, but it shouldn’t be bad. I think.

“It sounds like you’ve found someone you should keep by your side then. Just talk to the woman. If she’s stuck around you this long, it’s in your favor that she’s not going anywhere. Since you already gave her one weapon, you can give another one that suits her along with one of those rings you see those basic humans wear.” Paz snorts and Din hits him on his shoulder. “Calm down Djarin. I didn’t say she was basic. I was referring to non-Mandalorians. You’ve always been so sensitive.” Rounds around the coven went quickly and we were back in the forge where it seemed they had been discussing something important. After getting a new weapon from The Armorer and her telling me to stop back by in a month, we left. I’d already had her hand in mine on our way out. They should know here too that she’s with me. That’s what the ring would be for, wouldn’t it? We picked up some more supplies and headed for the ship.

Grogu took some rounds of ‘hide the shiny ball’ to settle down to sleep. I was able to sit with cyar’ika (beloved) without interruption. I told her about checking in at the covent and expressed that I’d like her to walk around with me the next time we have beskar to drop off. She expressed that she would and I placed my hand on her knee. A bit forward on my part, but she placed her hand over mine and stood up. I thought she was going to tell me about what her and The Armorer discussed but she told me to get more rest. She’s normally telling me that. I’m used to functioning on less sleep, but I’ve trained myself to wake when I hear odd noises. Until I got used to Grogu’s sounds, I didn’t sleep much the first few months I had him.

I should have pulled her close and held her. I’m not sure if she knows what the touching of foreheads really means in Mandalorian culture, but she wished me to get some sleep and said something about the controls before she left. In the minute (or maybe longer), she held her forehead to the area above my T-visor. One of her hands is in mine and the other is on my chest. This new level of closeness - I’m not going to let it go. I’m finding I'm so greedy when it comes to her, in a way that I haven’t been, even with the care I provide to my foundling Grogu. I’m humming with glee, at least I think that’s my armor. It could be me, I’ll do diagnostics later.

The dream I have later that night when I fold my arms and wrap my cape around myself to doze off.

She’s given me another forehead bump, but I’m bold this time and put my arms around her wide hips, pulling her close to press my T-visor into her soft stomach, easing her to sit on my lap. Just having her lean against me, now her cheek pressed against the side of my helmet. I call her cyar’ika while she calls me Din. I hear her say it repeatedly, while I place my hand on her thigh, keeping her in place.

If she does it again, I’ll definitely pull my mesh’la (beautiful) close like in my dream. We’ll figure out the communication later, I just want to dream right now.

Part Two Part Four

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prolix-yuy · 2 years

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Chapter 5: You and Me After, You and Me Before

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: An admission. A revelation. Truths. A promise.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: T, allusions to sexual acts, Din having lots of FEELINGS. While this chapter is not explicit, the entire work is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Cross-posted on AO3

Both Sides of the Door Masterlist || I Think of You Series Masterlist

Din has to take a few minutes to ease back from the incredible disappointment of being interrupted.

He’s glad he got you to your peak first, the bliss on your face as you smiled back at him like being shone upon by the sun. But that doesn’t help the ache between his own legs as he forces himself to think about gutted Tauntauns and the stench of wet Bantha. Din watches as you sit up, booping the child’s tiny nose and gently scolding him for scaring you, your sleeveless top rumpled and pants hastily rebuttoned. The metal patterning on the floor left indentations on your arms and shoulders that he wants to trace with his fingers.

You deserve a better place for him to pleasure you. Someplace soft, comforting, where you could drift off after. He’ll have to bring something up to the cockpit next time.

The thought lights up his skin as you look over at him and smile, fonder this time. The fact that he lets himself want a next time, not pushing it away like he’s been since you stepped on the Crest (and years longer, if he’s being honest), is a surprise. Not unwelcome, but a jolt after the strained emotions of the day.

The irritation at Karga for his insinuations, the veil of disdain from his alor over your presence, all came to a head when he entered the Marshal’s office and saw you there, reacting to a good-natured prod into your relationship. You must have fielded some questions of your own today, and while he’s been cautious in the past he knows you wouldn’t betray his trust.

He could have used your quiet strength today. Maker knows he wants you, the ebbing throb of his cock a clear indicator, but today it’s only become clearer that he wants you near. Near to him, under his protection, beside him in the moments when his life is difficult. You probably would have told Karga off, something like, “And why is it your business if I prefer beskar between my legs?” Karga would have spat his spotchka, laughed and ordered another round. You’re good like that, personable, funny and disarming in a way Din can never be.

He can almost see the calm in your eyes if you stood before the Armorer. The way you would have answered her questions, the steadfastness and strength you would show, all proving why you were a worthy companion to a Mandalorian. Even when placed by the sweltering heat of the forge with nothing to protect you, you would stand tall and unwavering.

But he couldn’t make you face her. He desired it, wanted to place his hand on your back and level his visor at his alor and tell her how important you were to him, but she wouldn’t believe it. He’d proven himself to be untrustworthy before.

Thinking with your cock again, Din Djarin? We know what happened the last time that happened.

That had been years ago, when Din shirked his duty to run with Ranzar Malk’s team, spending too much time under the sharp teeth and poison of Xi’an and lusting over the blood he spilled. When he finally returned, vibroblade slashes in all of the vulnerable spots between his armor -

Show me the face of the man who’s fucking me, Mandalorian!

- his alor had silently watched him treat his injuries. It wasn’t until he was back in the training room, Paz Vizla laying blows on every half-healed wound, opening them back up like screaming mouths, that she spoke.

“This is the pain of betrayal, Din Djarin. You have dishonored your role as beroya. May this be a lesson that continues to teach.”

He was patched back up, but the damage done was deeper than flesh. The pain of his choice, of abandoning his duty for the thrill of sex and money and rage, settled deeper in his bones than any break could. His alor forgave him, allowing him to continue training and learning and, when the chance to become beroya returned, allowing him to take up the mantle again. He was more loyal to the Creed than ever before, consequence beaten into him.

He needs time, that’s all. Time to bring proof to the covert that you are respectful, honorable, worthy in their eyes. You already are in his.

Shifting beside him, you shuffle to your knees, sighing and looking down at Din.

“I’ll get some food started,” you say, about to get to your feet, but Din wants just a moment longer. So with a boldness of affection he doesn’t often display, he reaches out and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you over in the circle of his embrace. You let yourself be toppled, giggling as your elbow comes down on his cuirass, hand by his shoulder. Din can feel you against his side, soft and warm. Your gaze dances over the helmet to rest on the visor, and it makes his breath catch when your eyes lock with his. Not perfectly, slightly unfocused without his brown ones to stare back, but it’s the most intimate feeling in the world for Din.

“Later?” you whisper in an attempt to be discreet while the child grips at your pant legs. Later is both a hope and a promise, laced with uncertainty between the child and duty. His hands roam your back, coming up to the back of your head to dip it against the helmet. A Keldabe kiss, one of many he’s given you. You press a small one into the helmet’s cheek as you rise, and Din’s lips purse unconsciously, as if he could press them to yours. He has to bite them to give him something to feel.

Later, when all three of you are sitting in the hold, Din startles at a question.

“Cara told me about Sorgan.”

Din tries to breathe through the spike of fear and anxiety that reduces him to a statue. He doesn’t know how to react - why did Cara mention it? How much do you know? How does it make you feel? Before steam can start spouting from under the helmet like a terrible teapot, you speak.

“I think she was trying to be kind, telling me that you had someone you cared about. Like maybe she wanted to reassure me that you were capable of it. Not that I don’t already know,” you say, turning your head down to the child as he fiddles with a wadded up bunch of string he’d been fixated on all evening. “Or she was trying to stir up some drama for the fun of it. You know her best.”

Your lopsided smile lets some air back into his lungs. Din puts down the circuit board in his hands, fearing he’ll snap it in two if he holds it any longer. Instead he places his palms on his thighs, thumbs digging into the dip by his knees to ground himself.

“Cara and I met on Sorgan, and we helped liberate a village of krill farmers,” he says, watching your reaction carefully. You nod, chewing on your lip a little as you wait. Kriff, you’re getting better at anticipating what he needs by the day.

“There was a woman there, Omera. She had a daughter, Winta. They helped care for the child.” Din pauses, the emotion of the memory heavy on his shoulders. “He would have had a good life there, would have been able to be a child, if the Republic wasn’t trailing us. They wouldn’t have been safe if we stayed.”

“And you wouldn’t leave him.”

The truth is more complicated. Din hasn’t found the right moment to tell you about his mission, or the importance the child plays in it. But your assumption is as close to an explanation as today can offer.

“I couldn’t,” he says, and truly believes it. Leaving the child is becoming a harder and harder inevitability to face by the day.

The silence lasts a little longer, both of you testing who will break next. You take the step first.

“Did you want to stay?” you ask, and Din shakes his head.

“I don’t belong in a place like that.” You tilt your head, a mannerism you’re starting to develop from your time with Din.

“That’s not what I asked.” It’s firmer now, and your eyes are sharp. How do you manage to touch what hurts but soothe instead of opening the wound?

“If nothing stood in your way, would you have stayed?”

Din wishes the answer was simple, a yes or a no. There was a time when it did feel like an easy choice. The calm of the village, the soft glances of a strong woman, children to care for and keep safe. It would have been so close to his Creed he could have justified it. But even without the threat looming over the child, the duties of being a Mandalorian, of the Watch, of being beroya, were too great for him to abandon.

“I made some mistakes in my youth, ran with a crew that I shouldn’t have.” Din looks up to your face and sees the silent question. “It was after I met you.” Nodding, you let him continue. “I betrayed the trust of my covert, of my alor, of Karga. All for a fleeting moment of freedom. I paid dearly for it.” The sympathy in your eyes goes no further. Not pitying, just commiserating.

“To stay on Sorgan, I would have had to give up my Creed.” Din lets the silence bleed, knowing that what he says next may hurt you, but you did seem to thrive on truth. “I might have been happy. She might have made me happy. But I made the wrong choice before, and I didn’t have faith in myself to know if staying was right. I don’t know how to give up what I’ve always known, and she would have needed that. She deserved that, done the right way instead of running. And…” Din’s breath is large, expansive as he tries to let out the deepest wound in his heart, infected and festering. “I don’t believe I could have been the good man she thought I was.”

Din rolls his shoulders stiffly, trying to relax under your thoughtful gaze. He wonders if you might try to touch him, but you don’t. You understand him better than most, and your hands on him right now would have been too much. It’s all out now, his greatest mistake and his greatest “what if.” He’s peeled off the bandage in the hope it might heal this time, but he needs you to say something.

“And now?” you finally ask, making Din tilt his helmet up to look at you. “Do you still feel like you aren’t a good man?”

He breathes, letting the cadence of his back rising and falling release the words.

“Every day it seems less likely.”

The answer makes you smile wistfully. “Good.”

Din waits for you to say something else, to ask something of him. A promise, an explanation. He wouldn’t blame you if you needed more. But you release him, turning your attention to the child and unwinding a loop of string from his claws.

You never push, you only hold your hands open for him to give. It makes Din want to give you everything.

“I’m glad you found some peace, Mando.” You break the last stretch of silence as you move about the hold, putting the child into Mando’s arms. The statement makes his head cock, not expecting this reaction. “I always hoped in the time we were apart that you were shown kindness, and care. I’m grateful that there was at least one.” You stretch and move to head towards the ‘fresher. Was it that late already?

“Mesh’la,” Mando calls after you, making you turn and look at him. The Mando’a he knows is less of a language and more a set of monikers, like the technical names for the parts of his blaster. He used it sparingly, the words carrying the most meaning when he saves them. But he can never resist calling you beautiful every chance he gets.

“You’re very different from her,” he says carefully, and you shoot him a crooked smile.

“I wasn’t fishing for comparisons.” You cross your arms with a smirk, leaning against the wall and contemplating your next words carefully. His eyes dance over your half-focused gaze, tapping fingers and contemplative crease of your brow. When your lips part he opens his own to sip in a silent breath. “You came back to me, Mando. Against all odds. That will always mean more to me than anything before.”

Din is dazed into silence and you nod, releasing a soft hum before heading into the ship. He remains, heart aching at your simple acceptance.

He came back to you.

Like a wish tossed into the sea, or a kind act in a cruel world.

He came back to you.

And he will never leave you again.

END || PREVIOUS

NOTES: Thank you all for coming along on another ride with our lovely little space family. We finally have some admissions of feelings! And a few glimpses into why Mando has been so reticent to act on his. But now that all things are more out in the open, there's just one tiny little cockblock still in the way. He's a very adorable one, and it's not his fault per se, but they'll have to figure something out. It's been a joy to share this story with you all, I'm so glad it's still something people are enjoying because I sure as hell enjoy writing it. To many more stories!

The story continues in Episode 9: Soft Fires

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian fic #mando/reader #mando/you #mando/f!reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #i think of you series #prolix fics

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anonymousewrites · 9 months

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Clan of Three (Book 2) Chapter Sixteen

Father Figure! Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Teen! Reader

Chapter Sixteen: The Separation

Summary: It's been a year, and Mando is still dealing with the separation from his adike.

A year later…

As Mando walked back to the new location of the covert, he felt a familiar heaviness upon him. Not even the Darksaber’s injury to his leg drowned out the constant feeling of emptiness and being lost. He still felt Grogu and (Y/N)’s absence keenly, and each job he completed felt wrong without (Y/N) eagerly joining the fight beside him or Grogu excitedly waiting for him to return to the Razorcrest and pick him up.

Mando sighed and focused on his climb down the ladder to the Armorer. There was nothing to do but focus on his work and help the covert rebuild. After all, he couldn’t get Grogu or (Y/N) back. They were with the Jedi, their own kind

They are your Clan. They are your kind, said a small voice, and Mando quickly stamped it out.

He nearly collapsed as he approached the Armorer where she knelt overlooking the galaxy and stars spread out around them.

“Tend to him,” she said calmly, not even having to look back.

Paz Vizla, the Heavy Infantry Mandalorian, walked over to where Mando sat with a Medkit. “I didn’t know if I would ever see you again.”

“Thank you for saving me on Nevarro,” said Mando. He knew that although they had their differences, they were both Mandalorians and would support each other. “I am sorry for your sacrifice.”

“There are three of us now,” said Paz as he sprayed bacta on Mando’s cut leg. “We’ll put you to work soon enough.”

“What weapon caused such a wound?” questioned the Armorer.

Mando held out the hilt of the Darksaber he had attempted to use. It didn’t seem to like working with him, if a weapon could have a mind and opinion on who held it. “This.”

“Paz Viszla, bring it to me,” said the Armorer, still kneeling and facing the galaxy’s constellations.

Paz took the weapon gently and carried it to the Armorer. She stood calmly and turned to take it and examine it.

“All this talk of the Empire, and they lasted less than thirty years,” she remarked. “Mandalorians have existed ten thousand.” In one smooth motion, she ignited the Darksaber, and the inky blade extended, blazing with power. “What do you know of this blade?”

“I am told it is the Darksaber,” said Mando.

“Indeed,” said the Armorer. “Do you understand its significance?”

“Whoever wields it can lead all of Mandalore,” said Mando, repeating what Bo-Katan and Gideon had said of the legend.

“If it was won by Creed in battle,” agreed the Armorer. “It is said, one warrior will defeat twenty, and the multitudes will fall before it. If, however, it is not won in combat and falls into the hands of the undeserving, it will be a curse unto the nation.” She deactivated the blade. “Mandalore will be laid to waste, and its people scattered to the four winds.”

Mando forced himself to stand as the Armorer approached. “The hilt is a quality of beskar I have never seen before.”

“It was forged over one thousand years ago by the Mandalore Tarre Viszla. He was both Mandalorian and Jedi,” said the Armorer.

Mando found himself thinking of (Y/N) suddenly, and a sharp pain in his heart forced him to ignore the thought. “I have met Jedi,” he said.

“Then you have completed your quest,” said the Armorer.

“I have,” said Mando, keeping his voice carefully calm and hiding the pain of lacking his children.

“Then you may join our covert as we rebuild,” said the Armorer.

“This is the Way,” said Mando.

“This is the Way,” said Paz.

“This is the Way,” said the Armorer as she handed back the Darksaber to Mando.

Paz watched him holster the weapon quietly.

“Where did you come upon the Darksaber?” questioned Paz as he and Mando worked on fixing the Armorer’s furnace.

“(Y/N) disarmed Moff Gideon so I could defeat him,” said Mando. He would not hide (Y/N)’s help. They had been strong and worked hard. That’s my ad’ika, he thought, and then he immediately regretted it as his heart ached.

“Did you kill him?” asked Paz.

“No,” said Mando. “But he was sent off to the New Republic for interrogation, and he will face justice for his crimes.”

“Death would have been justice for his atrocities,” said Paz.

“This is true,” said the Armorer, appearing in the room silently. “The blood of millions of our kind is on his hands.”

“Then he will be executed for his crimes by the New Republic Tribunal,” said Mando.

“We shall see,” said the Armorer. She pressed a button and nodded in satisfaction as the furnace roared to life. “The songs of eons past foretold of the Mythosaur rising up to herald a new age of Mandalore,” she remarked as she procured her tools. “Sadly, it only exists in legends.”

The Darksaber suddenly felt heavier on Mando’s belt, and he glanced down, wondering if he’d imagined the sensation.

“Where did you come upon the beskar spear?” questioned the Armorer, moving on from the spiritual speech as if it had never happened.

“It was the gift of a Jedi,” said Mando, unstrapping the staff from his back. “It can block a lightsaber. I used it with (Y/N) to defeat Moff Gideon.”

“It can also pierce beskar armor,” said the Armorer. “Its mere existence puts Mandalorians at risk. Mandalorian steel is meant for armor, not weapons.”

Mando held out the staff. “Then forge it into something new.”

The Armorer took it. “The Darksaber is a more noble weapon for you to wield.” She placed the spear partly in the furnace, allow it to begin melting.

Mando sat and watched it. “Have you ever heard of Bo-Katan Kryze?” he asked.

“Bo-Katan is a cautionary tale,” said the Armorer. She poured a liquid into the water pot beside her. “She once laid claim to rule Mandalore based purely on blood and the sword you now possess. But it was gifted to her and not won by Creed. Bo-Katan Kryze was born of a mighty house, but they lost sight of the Way. Her rule ended in tragedy. They lost their way, and we lost our world. Had our sect not been cloistered on the moon of Concordia, we would not have survived the Great Purge.

“Those born of Mandalore strayed away from the path. Eventually, the imperial interlopers destroyed all that we knew and loved in the Night of a Thousand Tears,” said the Armorer. Even with the helmet obscuring her gaze, her solemnity was clear. “Only those that walked the way escaped the curse prophesized in the Creed. Though are numbers were scattered to the winds, our adherence to the way has preserved our legacy for the generations until we may someday return to our homeworld.”

The Armorer raised the melting staff from the flames, once again changing topics and addressing the issue at hand. “What shall I forge?”

“Something for foundlings,” said Mando, unable to not think of (Y/N) and Grogu.

“This is the Way,” said the Armorer.

“For two specific foundlings,” said Mando. “Grogu and (Y/N).”

“They are no longer in your care. They are with their own kind now,” said the Armorer.

“I want to see them, make sure they’re safe,” said Mando. He had stayed away for long enough.

“In order to master the ways of the Force, Jedi must forego all attachment,” said the Armorer.

“That is the opposite of our Creed,” said Mando. Would Grogu and (Y/N) forget me that easily? “Loyalty and solidarity are the Way.”

“What shall I forge for the foundlings Grogu and (Y/N)?” For all her declarations that they were no longer in his care, the Armorer accepted Mando’s regard for the foundlings either way.

“For Grogu, a bit of armor, to keep him safe,” said Mando. He paused before continuing. “And I request that a single weapon be made.”

“Oh?” remarked the Armorer.

Mando removed a small dagger from his belt. It was bent, twisted, unusable, but it was unmistakably Ushti. (Y/N)’s dagger. “If this could be repaired with beskar for the foundling (Y/N), I believe they would wield it well.”

The Armorer considered for a moment. “Very well.” She held out her hand, and Mando placed the Ushti dagger in her hand. “Would you like the Ushti style of crafting conserved?”

Mando nodded. “I wish it to be their culture as well as ours.”

The Armorer nodded. “This is the Way.”

And she went to work. Mando watched in patient silence as the Armorer smelted the chainmail and dagger for Grogu and (Y/N). She even tied cloth around the two gifts and handed them to Mando for the foundlings. Mando nodded in thanks.

“Now, you must learn to wield the Darksaber,” said the Armorer, turning away and heading towards a training room.

There was no room for argument, and Mando followed.

They faced each other, and the Armorer used her smelting tools, pure beskar, to attack. Ordering his movements, she moved Mando through the proper form of using a blade such as the Darksaber, the Mandalorian usually accustomed to short blades or blasters.

“Solus. T’ad. Ehn. Solus. T’ad. Ehn. Solus. T’ad. Ehn. Cuir.” Each hit forced Mando further back, and he grunted with the effort of keeping the blade under control. “T’ad. Ehn. Cuir.”

Mando furiously tried to attack with the blade, and he fell over the side of the platform. His jetpacked back up, but he was panted as he held the Darksaber. It was pulling towards the floor.

“You are fighting against the blade,” said the Armorer.

“It fights against me,” remarked Mando. “It gets heavier with each move.”

The Armorer was silent as she observed it. Mando seemed to be attempting to work with the blade, and although he had defeated Gideon, the Darksaber seemed to reject every movement he wielded it with.

“Fight your opponent. Stand up,” said the Armorer. Perhaps more drills bringing the two together would help. “Solus.” Mando grunted and swung the blade. “T’ad. Ehn. There. Feel it. Do not fight the Darksaber. It will win if you fight against it.” Still, she easily won the struggle, and Mando was forced to his knees by the weight of the blade in his hands. “You cannot control it with your strength.”

“I want to try again,” said Mando.

“Persistence without insight will lead to the same outcome,” said the Armorer. “Your body is strong, but your mind is distracted.” That was the conclusion the Armorer had come to.

“I am focused,” said Mando, but his claim held little weight.

“The blade says otherwise,” said the Armorer.

“Maybe the Darksaber belongs in someone else’s hands,” said Paz, appearing on the platform behind them.

Mando stared Paz down. “Maybe.”

“It was forged by my ancestor, founder of House Vizsla,” said Paz.

“And now it belongs to me,” said Mando.

“Because you won it in combat,” said Paz.

“That’s right,” said Mando.

“And now I will win it from you,” said Paz.

The Darksaber thrummed in Mando’s palm, and he was struck by the impression it seemed to be ridiculing Paz’s assumption that he could win it.

“Do you agree to this duel, Din Djarin?” questioned the Armorer.

“I do,” said Mando.

The Armorer walked off the platform to leave the way clear for Paz and Mando. In accordance with duel protocol, both Paz and Mando removed their jetpacks while keeping a keen eye on the other.

Mando ignited the Darksaber. Paz brought out his vibro-blade and a small energy shield on his arm. They advanced on each other and attacked. Paz blocked an attack from Mando and returned it with his vibro-blade. The vibration slightly stunned him, but Mando pushed back and managed to break the shield Paz had on his gauntlet. The pair traded blows and ended up grappling around the Darksaber. Mando pushed Paz back, and they fought over the blade until Mando pushed Paz to his knees. Paz pushed back up, headbutted Mando, and threw him down to another platform where he and the Darksaber landed.

Paz jumped down before Mando could get up. He grabbed the Darksaber as Mando tried to stand up. “Fate has brought this blade back to my clan, and now fate will end yours.”

He swung the blade at Mando, but it was clumsy as the saber resisted his direction, and Mando rolled out of the way. Mando jabbed Paz in the side to create an opening to get out. He was quick to draw a knife and slash Paz in the leg and arm. As Paz lifted the weighty blade and struck down, Mando ducked around him and held the knife to his throat.

“It is done,” declared the Armorer. She would not have either Mandalorian killing the other. “Paz Viszla, have you ever removed your helmet?

“No,” said Paz.

“Has it ever been removed by others?” questioned the Armorer, continuing the formalities.

“Never,” said Paz.

“This is the Way,” said the Armorer.

“This is the Way,” responded Paz.

“Din Djarin, have you ever removed your helmet?” questioned the Armorer.

Silence as Mando wrestled with the truth that he had sacrificed everything in order to find his foundlings and protect them.

“Have you ever removed your helmet?” repeated the Armorer.

Still silence. Mando had done what he had to. He had protected his kids. But he had also broken the Creed.

“By Creed, you must vow,” said the Armorer.

Mando stood, removing the knife from Paz’s throat. “I have,” he admitted, his voice without its usual calm and strength.

“Then, you are a Mandalorian no more,” said the Armorer.

“I beg you for your forgiveness. How can I atone?” asked Mando. He had lost his children. He couldn’t lose his covert and his people.

“Leave, apostate,” spat Paz.

“According to the Creed, one may only be redeemed in the living waters beneath the mines of Mandalore,” said the Armorer.

“But the mines have all been destroyed,” said Mando, his heart sinking.

“This is the Way.” There would be no more words from the Armorer on the subject.

Mando solemnly picked up the Darksaber and walked across the platforms to the exit. He strapped his jetpack onto his back once more, walking past the Armorer in silence. He had to redeem himself.

And first, he needed a ship, so it was time to take a trip to Tatooine.

Mando shouldn’t have underestimated Peli’s ability to put together a new ship out of old N-1 starfighter pieces. It was sleek and silver, but Mando’s heart ached as he saw that two seats and a little glass domed seat instead of a place for a droid were sat in it. Those were places for Grogu, (Y/N), and him. But Mando was alone.

Still, at least the test flight distracted him as he adapted to the new ship, and he had a new quest, this time to redeem himself. Hopefully, giving the gifts to his foundlings and then having a new quest would give him the closure he needed.

“Whoo!” cheered Peli as Mando arrived back. “Well? How was it?”

“Wizard,” said Mando, throwing her words back at her.

She chuckled. “Those J-type pulse engines really tighten the old evacuation port, don’t they? Oh, by the way, an old friend of yours dropped by, said she was looking for you.”

“A friend of mine?” Seems like trouble, thought Mando.

“Don’t worry. I told her I didn’t know where you were,” said Peli. She knew the drill. “Then I locked her out and engaged the hangar security system.”

“She tell you her name?” asked Mando.

“Fennec Shand,” said a new voice.

Peli shrieked in surprise, and Mando reached for his blaster until processing the name. Fennec sat on a beam above them all. Peli glared at her droids.

“I thought you said that the hangar security system was on,” she reprimanded. “Don’t get away from me. You come right back here. This is the third mistake this week. Someone’s getting deprogrammed.”

Fennec smirked in amusement as she jumped down to the hangar floor. “By any chance, are you looking for work?”

“I could be,” said Mando. Until he figured out where the living waters were on Mandalore and whether he could even get to them, he would need some credits, and he didn’t have the Mandalorian covert for now, if ever again.

“The pay is good,” said Fennec, smiling and tossing over a back of credits.

“What’s the bounty?” asked Mando.

“No bounty. We need muscle,” said Fennec.

“Boba Fett,” said Mando.

Fennec nodded. “He sure would appreciate it.”

Mando tossed back the payment. “Tell him it’s on the house. But first, I have to pay a visit to some friends.”

Fennec arched a brow before nodding in understanding. “Say hello to your ‘foundlings.’ They showed promise once. I hope the Jedi haven’t made them soft.”

I don’t think anyone could make (Y/N) soft, thought Mando. Still, his heart felt a bit lighter, albeit with a bit of trepidation at seeing his kids for the first time in a year (if he could still call them his kids. Perhaps they had moved on…) Mando steeled himself. It was time to visit them. He had waited long enough.

Taglist:

@im-making-an-effort

@gr33n-d00dles

@alexpangender

@painstakingly-juno

@treehouse-mouse

@theurbannoodle

@pedropascalsidechick

@dmitrytherat

@dilfsaremyfavourite

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moon-sang · 2 years

Note

O M L Moon..... where do I start XD

I CANNOT EXPRESS IN WORDS HOW MUCH I LOVE UR FANFICTION AND I WOULD BE HONOURED IF U COULD DO MY REQUEST!!

Request:

I know it's a bit gory but I just need this shock/angst from Mando right now :)

So whilst mando is out on a bounty, the reader is left at the covert where Paz in a way bullies her (I have nothing against Paz I just dunno any other Mandalorian other than the armourer, him, Boba, and Din XD) anyway and reader has bad coping habits so they lock themselves in a room and does self harm? I know it's bad I just want to see how you would write about Din's shock when he sees reader with blood all over them and on the floor holding a knife.

Also THANK U SO MUCH FOR PART TWO ON I FEEL COLD I LOVE THAT STORY THE ANGST IN IT I JUST CAN'T!

Thank you so much anon, thank you for also requesting something, I've been super bored lately. I would imagine Din being super shocked to see someone he travels with doing that to themselves and would get the absolute shits with Paz XD

Don't Listen To Him

SUMMARY: You are already insecure about yourself, Paz doesn't help and you have some really bad habits with coping with things.

WARNINGS: Self-harm (not explicit), gender-neutral reader, angst, shcoked Din, slightly angry Din, typical violence if you squint, reader is described shorter than Din, pls tell me if I miss anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pls remember that there is always help out there if u ever need it. Feel free to contact me if your having suicidal/self-harmful thoughts, you deserve so much in this world, i would be happy to help, and listen to you, even if it doesn't seem like much, this is just a request I DO NOT promote any self harm.

It hurt. Not the fresh cuts engraved in your skin, but his words. "You really think you mean anything to Din? What rock do you live under to think you mean anything to him, you're not even half his size, tiny." The words still rung clearly in your mind. "Din is a cold hearted hunter and to think you're blind enough that you think he likes you is absurd, you're probably just holding him back, like you do to everyone else." You can't help but choke out a loud sob, the words felt like acid burning through your skin, and left a salty taste on your tongue.

Absent-mindedly you run your knife through your wrist, cutting through a vein at the same time. Blood spills over your whole hand. Usually you would stop by now, but you couldn't, you still felt so empty and you were beginning to think Paz was right. After all you had seen the way Din slashed his darksaber through a bounty, maybe.... you did hold him back.

You felt like you couldn't breathe. Sobs racked your body and you couldn't suck a proper amount of air in when you sob again. Taking in a shaky breath you bring the small pocket knife to your throat. Maybe if you disappeared... Din would have it better, just him and the kid, no one to hold him back, no liabilities. Just as you begin to apply enough pressure for a small amount of crimson blood to trail down your neck the hatch (which must have been hacked into to unlock) opened. You can't even react to Din's appearance when your knife is whacked right out of your hand, scattering to the floor. You gasp, your body tensing. "What the hell are you doing?!" Din yells, half in shock, half in anger. You can't even answer, the only thing you can do is splutter out meaningless words. Din grabs your wrist, gently inspecting it. The wound is definitely deep, Din notes. He examines you with laser focus. You want to turn away from him, embarrassed at yourself for letting him catch you in this state. His thumb kept your head in place though. "Tell-me, now." He growls, not angry at you, but at himself for possibly doing something to make you want to hurt yourself. The only word you can get out is his very name. you can't help but burst into tears at his gaze. A worried Din pulls you in for a tight hug. Unaware at all the anxiety that had been building up in you you began to feel dizzy, and eventually passed out in his arms.

The next time you wake up your in bed, your wrist is bandaged, and everywhere else you had managed to bring harm to. You blink your eyes, getting rid of the morning blur. "Say it." Din's voice startled you, and you jump up out of the bed you rested in. In front of Din stood Paz, head cocked slightly down. "Say it!" Din snarls again. Din's blaster was pushed to Vizla's neck, cocked. "Din w-what are you doing-" Din cuts you off. "I looked over the tape, this bastard thinks he has some right to tell you what you mean to me?" He growls pushing the blaster further up his neck. Paz freaking out finally breaks. "Ok i'll say it!" he screams. "Y/n, i'm sorry, what i said- it- I was being an idiot, Din cares for you so much!" he shouts. Din puts the blaster back in his holster and pushes Paz foward. Vizla stumbles to the ground. "Din you didn't have to do tha-" "yes.. I did." he cuts you off. "If anyone says anything to you that makes you want to do that again... I want your o come straight to me or comm me, ok?" You nod and give Din a quick hug.

Ok I have to say this isn't my best story but I hope it does the job anon!

#Mandalorian x reader #Mando x reader #Din Djarin x reader #Mando angst #self-harm #whumpee?#Paz Vizla #The Mandalorian #Fanfiction #Star wars #angst

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jangofctts · 3 years

Text

Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)

Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy

Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.

a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL

Well—

Here you are.

Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that?

Not much, as it so happens.

Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding—

Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—

The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail.

The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…

Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought.

Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in.

Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.

Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics.

The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…

So you ran.

Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.

Coward.

The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.

Maker—how did everything become so tangled?

You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out.

The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift.

It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.

Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.

Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground.

The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.

Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.

If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?

A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and—

“Changed your mind? I—“

Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times.

Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving.

“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“

You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;

“Sit.”

Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.

Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz.

“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now.

The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.

“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”

Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”

“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”

You swallow and bite your tongue.

The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”

Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.

You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”

The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.

“No more bounties.”

“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.

“No more hunts alone—“

You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”

He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.”

“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.

His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”

“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”

Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire.

“Din?”

The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”

Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond.

“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."

Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”

You blink and return to picking at your fingernails.

“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”

The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.

He was worried—

You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.

A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.

Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.

Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble.

Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.

It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night.

Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over.

You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits.

By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.

You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.

He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.

Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.

Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—

It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you.

“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”

“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”

A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”

“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”

You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.

The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.

You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow.

Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—

It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…

“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.”

“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.

He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.

“Don’t quit on me yet—“

“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”

Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”

The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.

“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.

Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.

His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.

You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.

Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous.

“You��re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”

Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”

Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”

You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”

He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”

Oh.

A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?”

Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”

You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers.

Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling.

You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal.

Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“

You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.

Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.

His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.

“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.

Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.

“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you.

“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”

You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now.

Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”

Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"

He continues without missing a beat.

“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck. “I want to do it again—can I?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity.

Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”

He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”

Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.

To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly.

He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.

Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?

He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.

Maker you hate this fucking planet—

Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up.

Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.

“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”

Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.

“I want to. For you—only you.”

Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar—

The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.

You were right.

You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand.

“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”

Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.

He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants.

If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought.

He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath.

Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.

“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.

Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward.

His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance.

Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.

Din doesn��t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs

A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips.

You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”

You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.”

Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”

He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up.

Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you.

Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.

Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips.

“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.”

Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug.

Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.

Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.

Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”

There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.

“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.

Another time for that game maybe.

Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you.

“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.”

How can you deny such a request?

You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.

Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.

Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works.

Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.

“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.”

A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind.

“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”

White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.

Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”

You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things.

He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim.

Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss.

He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue.

Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?”

You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.

Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”

Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—

Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent.

His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”

You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.

“Wait—is that Paz?”

The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.

“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”

Your heart skips a beat.

“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches.

The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.

You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.

He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been.

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