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swan-of-sunrise · 1 year

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Taking Care of Business (Chapter Thirty-Five)

Summary: (Y/N) struggles to find her place within her husband’s Mandalorian covert and while he’s away on a rescue mission with Bo-Katan, she finds herself unexpectedly bonding with Grogu.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Disclaimer for a brief description of a panic attack

A/N: And here we’ve got our second big-ass creature trying to kill the Mandalorians lol thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-Five The Foundling (Previous Chapter)

The day after they arrived at the Mandalorian covert and were welcomed into their ranks, (Y/N) found herself to be the center of attention for the covert’s younger members and even a handful of the adults. They hadn’t grown up around non-Mandalorians and were rarely exposed to cultures outside of their own, so it was understandable that they were drawn to her and wanted to learn as much as they could about her adventurous life; while the rest of the covert ran through their drills – shooting, flying, climbing and hand-to-hand combat techniques – on the shore of the great lake, several young apprentices managed to sneak away from their training to visit (Y/N), who was working on tuning up their N-1 Starfighter after all the recent battles it had gone through.

“Is this starfighter really from Naboo?”

(Y/N) smiled and gave the red-helmeted girl a nod before continuing to tighten one of the engines’ loose bolts. “Mm-hmm, they were once originally commissioned by the Queen of Naboo. Din and I bought this one on Tatooine and after a little bit of work, it flies better than it ever did when it was brand new.”

An older boy lifted one of the younger ones so that he could see into the open cockpit. “Have you been flying long?”

“Since I was about his age,” She gestured to the boy he’d just set back down and grabbed a bundle of steel wool to begin scrubbing at the carbon scoring near the droid port. “I actually first learned to fly in an old starfighter just like this one.”

“Can you teach us how to fly?”

“Um…”

(Y/N) was spared from answering by an older Mandalorian, who approached them with his arms crossed over his beskar-covered chest. “It is time to focus on your drills now, young ones.” The group of children bid her goodbye and the older Mandalorian gave her a nod before following them back towards the active part of the shoreline.

“You’re pretty popular around here.”

She glanced over to see Bo-Katan leaning against the side of the starfighter. “With the kids, sure, but I’m not too certain about the adults; it’s hard to get a read on people who cover their faces and don’t speak unless they have to.”

The Nite Owl shrugged noncommittally. “They like you. They’re just taking the time to feel you out before they start opening up around you.” She looked past (Y/N) and chuckled. “Speaking of the kids, I think that husband of yours is trying to introduce your foundling to the drills.”

(Y/N) turned around and looked across the crowded shoreline to see Din placing Grogu down on the sand outside the semicircle of Mandalorians watching two children wrestle; she tossed the bundle of steel wool aside and marched down the beach towards the pair, reaching them just as the boy wearing a blue-colored helmet won his match. “Din, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“If he is ever to rise from foundling to apprentice, he must learn.” Her husband looked up and over at her, and she could hear the gentle reassurance in his modulated voice when he quietly added, “He’ll be okay, alor’ad. I promise.”

“He’s not the one that I’m worried about,” (Y/N) mumbled back, causing Bo-Katan to snort in amusement as she joined them at the edge of the gathering. The only real training that Grogu received to hone his skills with the Force came from his brief time with Luke Skywalker, and (Y/N) often wondered if the child had truly gotten enough instruction with the Jedi; she didn’t want him to overexert himself or accidentally hurt someone while using the Force, and she wasn’t exactly keen on him trying his powers out on an unsuspecting Mandalorian apprentice only a day after they’d been welcomed into the covert.

Din raised a gloved hand. “Judge!” One of the older Mandalorians turned and strode across the semicircle to stand before them. “He challenges.”

The judge glanced down at Grogu, who cooed in curiosity, before looking back up at Din. “He is too small.”

“I am his ward. Proceed.”

The judge turned to (Y/N) and after she gave him a nod, he asked, “What weapon?”

Din nodded towards the boy with the blue-colored helmet. “Let the challenged decide.”

The young apprentice crossed his arms over his chest and defiantly stared down at his small challenger. “Darts.”

“Bring the training darts!”

As another Mandalorian left to fetch the practice weapons, the boy tilted his helmeted head to the side. “Why doesn’t he wear a helmet?”

“He is too young to speak the Creed,” Din patiently explained. “And so, too young to wear a helmet.”

“Then he’s too young to fight.”

(Y/N) arched a brow at the boy’s blatant attitude and bit her lip to keep from retorting, but her husband had no compunction about countering his pointed words. “‘One does not speak unless one knows.’ Is that not the Creed?”

The boy shrugged his shoulder. “Well, I know.”

“Perhaps this lesson is for you, then.”

The defensive edge to the Mandalorian’s modulated voice as he verbally sparred with the apprentice forced (Y/N) to clear her throat to mask her chuckles. The judge’s assistant returned with a metal box and promptly handed it over. “The training darts.”

Kneeling on the sand, the judge set the box down and opened its lid. “Fighters, arm yourselves.”

Bo-Katan volunteered to help Grogu prepare for his match, taking one of the devices and kneeling before him to fasten it around his tiny wrist. “Don’t worry, my dad was the same way. He’s just proud of you.”

“We both are,” (Y/N) added, bending over to roll up the cuff of his sleeve and affectionately rub his large ear. “You take it easy on him, little guy. Okay?”

Grogu babbled in response and when both women moved to stand on either side of Din, the judge took a step forward. “Each has three darts. You may fire the darts in any order. Each direct hit scores one point. A mark must be visible to score. One round, highest score wins.”

When the child looked uncertainly over his shoulder at them, Din crouched down and mimed what to do for his benefit. “Squeeze your fist to launch the darts.” Grogu cooed and Din nodded. “You’ll be fine.”

“He doesn’t know how to fire darts?” Bo-Katan quietly asked, and (Y/N) could imagine that her eyes were widening in disbelief beneath her beskar helmet.

“He’s got this,” Din reassured her as he straightened and rested a gloved hand against the small of (Y/N)’s back. “Trust me.”

The judge stepped back to give both combatants their space. “Ready…begin!” Quick as a flash, the apprentice fired a dart and hit Grogu directly in the chest, its yellow paint splattering across his robe and drawing an indignant squeal from the child. “Point!”

Grogu looked over his shoulder at Din in obvious displeasure, but he merely shrugged and gestured towards the apprentice. “Don’t look at me, look at him.”

“Ready…begin!” The apprentice’s second dart hit Grogu’s chest. “Point!”

(Y/N) impulsively took a knee. “Grogu?” She gave the child a patient smile when he turned around to face her and she quietly continued. “I’ve seen what you can do. It’s okay, show them.”

Grogu cooed and his large eyes gleamed in understanding as she got to her feet, and he turned back around to stare down his opponent. “Ready…begin!” The apprentice fired his third dart but Grogu leapt out of its way, flipping over the young Mandalorian’s head and immediately flipping back around to face him; he took advantage of his opponent’s disorientation and fired all three of his darts, hitting him in the center of his chest and stunning every Mandalorian in the vicinity. “Three points. Winner!”

“There you go!” Din exclaimed with a prideful edge to his modulated voice.

While the Mandalorians surrounding them applauded Grogu’s win, (Y/N) scooped the child up into her arms and pressed kisses across his smiling face. “You were wonderful, little guy! You keep it up, and you’ll be an apprentice in no time!”

Bo-Katan nodded appreciatively and looked over at them. “Did you guys teach him that?”

“Not us.” Din wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s waist and gave Grogu’s ear an affectionate rub. “Great job, kid.”

As Grogu cooed and babbled in her arms, (Y/N) tentatively prodded the half-stained paint splatters on the front of his robes. “I hope this paint doesn’t stain.”

“It doesn’t. As his ward, it’s my responsibility to wash his training robes…” Din pointed to the seam of his sleeve and the loosening stitches. “Just so long as you handle the sewing.”

“Dank farrik, I just repaired that seam. I-”

A child’s scream caused them all to turn around and they watched in horror as the apprentice that Grogu just defeated was snatched off the lakeshore by a swooping raptor and carried away. Din drew his blaster to shoot the creature down, but Paz appeared out of nowhere and lowered his arm before he could. “No blasters, it will kill the child! Follow it to its lair!”

While the older Mandalorians ushered the children into the tunnels, both Mandalorians took to the sky and were soon joined by two more. Knowing that their jetpacks would eventually run out of fuel, (Y/N) exchanged a look with Bo-Katan and both women sprinted towards their respective ships, with the Nite Owl running up the Gauntlet’s ramp and (Y/N) climbing into the N-1’s cockpit; she allowed Grogu to sit on her lap as she piloted the starfighter after the raptor and the Mandalorians.

“It’s flying down into the ravine,” Bo-Katan’s voice called through the communication radio. “Keep tailing it and I’ll follow from above.”

“I’m on it.” (Y/N) steered the starfighter into the narrow and winding ravine and spared Grogu a comforting pat on the head when he let out a worried coo. “It’s okay, little guy, we’ll get him back.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at the bottom of the ravine and she bit her lip when she realized that the Mandalorians had all run out of fuel and were grounded. “Son of a mud-scuffer. Looks like you and I are on our own, Bo.”

“We’ll do a loose follow and stay up high, that way it’ll hopefully lead us to its lair.”

(Y/N) eased the controls up and joined the Gauntlet as it flew just above the clouds; while they followed after the raptor, she prayed to the Maker that the young Mandalorian child would make it back home to his covert alive and unharmed.

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

After an hour of flying, the raptor finally returned to its nest but because of their unpreparedness to carry out a rescue mission, (Y/N) and Bo-Katan were forced to turn around and fly back to the covert with only a set of coordinates. They landed on the shoreline and several Mandalorians hurried out of the cave to hear their news, including Din, the Armorer and Paz Vizsla.

“We kept a high altitude and followed it to its lair,” (Y/N) remarked as they joined the group of Mandalorians, passing Grogu over to Din and giving the unarmored part of his arm a reassuring squeeze. “We know how to get there.”

Bo-Katan glanced around at the other Mandalorians. “We should muster up a hunting party and go after him.” After exchanging a look with Paz, the Armorer followed the Nite Owl into the Gauntlet while the three of them trailed behind, stepping into the ship as she pulled up a holographic map. “Captain (Y/L/N) scouted where it lives and I mapped the location.” She pointed a gloved finger at the top of one of the planet’s highest peaks. “There. The nest.”

“It flew a long way,” Din remarked as they all studied the map before them.

“I will go get him.”

“The mountains are too high,” Paz pointed out. “If we use jetpacks, the beast will hear.”

The Armorer nodded in agreement. “It would kill the child.”

“These are no higher than the peaks of Kyrimorut; I used to climb them in basic training.” Bo-Katan’s modulated voice was filled with self-assurance as she continued. “I’ll fly to the foothills, scale the rest of the way on foot.”

Din gave her a firm nod. “I’ll join you.”

“So will I.” The other four all looked over at (Y/N) at the same time, and she forced herself not to shrink under their scrutiny. “What’s wrong?”

“Alor’ad, I’m not sure that this mission will be safe for you,” Her husband gently remarked. “You don’t wear beskar armor, so you’ll have no protection, and the climb will be challenging for even a highly-trained Mandalorian to complete.”

(Y/N)’s shoulders sagged as she absorbed his words and after a moment, she nodded and gave him a fleeting smile. “You’re right. I’d only slow you down, and you need all the time you can get to rescue that boy.”

As Din reached out to touch her but thought better of it and dropped his gloved hand, the Armorer looked at Paz standing beside her. “Paz Vizsla, enjoin the Shriek-hawk Training team to accompany you. I will pack extended lariats for your launchers; we must avoid explosives and blasters for the safety of the foundling.”

While the Mandalorians all prepared for the rescue mission, (Y/N) helped Grogu change into a clean robe and watched the warriors file into the Gauntlet with a heavy heart; in the rest of the galaxy, there wasn’t much that she couldn’t do using all the skills she spent most of her life honing but living among the Mandalorians, she couldn’t help but feel useless. They were fighters, trained from birth in the art of warfare and weaponry, and everything that she could do they could do with their eyes closed and a hand tied behind their back. They hadn’t discussed it yet but (Y/N) knew that Din would want to stay with the covert now that he was no longer an apostate, which would allow him to train Grogu as a Mandalorian but also meant that the inadequacy she felt would only come to intensify. It’s only been one day, she silently reasoned with herself, maybe things will begin to look better the longer you stay here.

(Y/N) and Grogu said their goodbyes to Din, both stoically watching the Gauntlet take off and fly through the sky towards the raptor’s far-off nest. “You are unequipped to join them.” The Armorer moved to stand beside them and although her helmet’s visor was fixed on the retreating starfighter in the distance, (Y/N) could still feel the heavy weight of her gaze on her. “And you are too young to join them.” Grogu cooed and the Armorer looked down at him. “All in good time. Come, Captain (Y/L/N) and Grogu. If you both wish to understand the Way of the Mandalore, there is much work to attend to.”

While the Armorer walked back into the cave, (Y/N) exchanged a look with Grogu and jutted her chin towards the wide crevice in the rock. “It’s okay, little guy. A little learning will do us both some good.”

They both entered the tunnels and followed the Armorer to her cavernous forge, finding her as she stood heating a ladle of molten beskar over the open flame of the cryo-furnace. Grogu waddled ahead and climbed to sit on the nearby bench, and (Y/N) carefully studied the Mandalorian as she sat beside him. “This is the Forge. It is the heart of Mandalorian culture.” She carried the ladle across the chamber and carefully poured the molten beskar into two molds. “Just as we shape the Mandalorian steel, we shape ourselves. We all begin as raw ore…” Crossing back to the forge, she heated a flattened circle of beskar and continued. “We refine ourselves through trials and adversity.” The child whimpered when the Armorer suspended the circle below the forge’s hammering mechanism and (Y/N) took one of his tiny clawed hands between her fingers. “The Forge can reveal weaknesses.”

Grogu flinched when the device pounded down onto the beskar and before (Y/N) could ask what was wrong, the forge around her faded away and was replaced with the sight of a door being forced open by blaster fire; the pounding of blaster bolts against the door was joined by the electric cackling of lightsabers as brown-robed Jedi came into view.

“Get him to Kelleran!” One of the Jedi shouted and the door burst open to reveal a garrison of Clone Troopers; they fired their blasters into the hall and while some of the Jedi were able to deflect the bolts, two were hit and collapsed onto the ground. The remaining two Jedi blocked Grogu’s pram as they defeated the garrison and led the way down a different hall, but more Clone Troopers appeared and the two Jedi were overwhelmed. “The elevator! Get the youngling to Kelleran! Go!”

The female Jedi used the Force to shove Grogu’s pram into an open elevator and was shot as she hurried in after him; her body lay motionless on the elevator floor and (Y/N) could sense Grogu’s fear while the elevator came to a stop. The doors slid open to reveal another Jedi, with intricately-embroidered robes and an expression of grim determination on his face as he lowered his green-colored lightsaber and addressed the child. “Everything’s gonna be all right, kid.”

Kelleran picked up his fallen comrade’s lightsaber hilt and ignited it, turning around just in time to fight off another wave of Clone Troopers with both blades. He blocked blaster bolt after blaster bolt, both blades whirling and spinning with expert ease, until all his enemies lay dead on the ground. A wide-eyed Grogu used the Force to settle his pram onto one of the fallen Clone Trooper’s speeder bikes and watched as the Jedi fought off an onslaught of blaster fire from a larger garrison of soldiers; the Jedi holstered his weapons and mounted the speeder bike, flying away from the burning structure and further into what appeared to be Coruscant.

A Clone transport ship appeared behind them and a chase through Coruscant’s heavy air traffic ensued, only ending when Kelleran flew their speeder through a hovertrain tunnel and the transport was destroyed by an oncoming train. Their speeder emerged from one of the train stations and weaved in between the city’s towering skyscrapers until they came upon a landing platform.

“Don’t worry, we’re gonna meet up with some friends of mine,” Kelleran reassured Grogu. “But hold on, it’s gonna be a bumpy landing.”

The speeder skidded across the landing platform and the Jedi was ejected from his seat; when he picked himself up, he ran over to the speeder’s remnants and removed Grogu’s pram and (Y/N)’s eyes widened in stunned disbelief when she saw what awaited them: a J-Type 327 Nubian Starship, the spacecraft commissioned and owned by the Royal House of Naboo. Several figures wearing the uniforms of the Naboo Royal Guard emerged from the starship and hurried over to the pair.

“Kelleran Beq?”

The Jedi nodded at the Guard Captain’s question. “They’re right behind me.”

“What about the others?”

“There are no others.”

Another Clone transport flew down and landed on the platform and under a hail of blaster fire, the Guard Captain shouted, “Take the ship, it’s fueled and ready to go!”

Kelleran ushered Grogu’s pram onto the starship and took to the sky, piloting the starship out of the planet’s atmosphere and then…

(Y/N) blinked and found herself back in the Armorer’s forge, the sound of hammering filling the cavernous space instead of screams and blaster fire. She looked down at Grogu, who was looking up at her with imploring eyes, but before she could ask him about the vision, the Armorer spoke. “Captain (Y/L/N). You worry that you do not fit in here amongst your riduur’s people.”

“I…Yes, I do.” Shaking her head to clear her mind of the befuddling vision, (Y/N) sat straighter and watched the Mandalorian across from her cool the circle of beskar in the water trough. “I’m not Mandalorian, so there’s not much I can contribute to the covert.”

“On the contrary, you contribute a great deal to us.” (Y/N) blinked in surprise but remained silent while the Armorer took the circle of beskar and began soldering a design onto its bowed surface. “You provide us with insight into the galaxy. From your homeworld of Naboo and your noble involvement in the Rebellion against the Empire to your travels with Din Djarin, you offer us the ability to see into parts of the galaxy, its many cultures and years of history that we may never have learned of before. Mandalorians respect wisdom and knowledge, and you provide our covert with both in spades.” The Armorer looked up from her work and (Y/N) could feel her eyes meeting hers. “You are also raising a foundling. You saved the foundling Grogu’s life and in so doing, you have achieved the highest honor of the Creed. You may not follow the Way or don a set of beskar armor, but that does not make you any lesser than the ones who do. This is the Way.”

As the Armorer turned her focus back onto her work, (Y/N) nodded and quietly murmured, “This is the Way.”

“It is a tradition in our culture for each to donate a small portion of what they earn to the foundlings.” The Armorer set her soldering tools down and carried the circle of beskar over to where they sat; it was a rondel and on its beveled surface, the signet of a mudhorn was proudly fastened. “It is with these scraps of beskar that I forged your next piece of armor, young one.” Grogu cooed in interest as he recognized the symbol of their small clan. “Mandalorian steel shall keep you safe as you grow stronger.” With a small smile, (Y/N) held the child’s robe open and watched as the Armorer fastened the armor onto his chainmail shirt. “You will grow into this rondel as you grow into your station, foundling Grogu.”

Grogu’s clawed hand tugged on the sleeve of (Y/N)’s coat and she chuckled. “Yes, I see it, little guy. It looks wonderful on you!”

The Armorer dismissed them and while they walked back to the starfighter to finish up its tune-up, all (Y/N) could think of was the Mandalorian’s words and her adoptive son’s troubling vision.

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

“Grogu, can I ask you a little about what you showed me in the forge?” (Y/N) asked later that night; she and the child had retired to their living quarters and while she was working on a new shirt for herself, he kept himself entertained by hovering his silver sphere with the Force. At her question, Grogu jumped up onto the bed and babbled out an incomprehensible answer while nodding his head. “That was the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, wasn’t it? Ahsoka Tano told us about it when we first met her on Corvus. You were thinking about your escape at the end of the Clone Wars.”

Grogu nodded again, his brow wrinkling as he let out a saddened coo.

“I’m sorry if the forging made you go back to that night.” (Y/N) set her sewing aside and allowed him to crawl into her lap, leaning down to give his forehead a kiss and running her fingertips over his wrinkled head. “The same happens to your dad sometimes; loud noises make him remember the day he lost his parents and was rescued by the Mandalorians. And from time to time, the sight of fire reminds me of my years of service in the Rebellion.”

To her surprise, Grogu pulled himself up to rest against her chest and patted a clawed hand against her cheek as if to comfort her.

“It’s okay, little guy; being with you and your dad helps me cope with those memories,” (Y/N) reassured him before studying the trusting gleam in his wide eyes. “That starship you escaped in was from Naboo, and so were those Royal Guards who bought you and your Jedi friend time. Is that why you trusted me so much when we first met? Because you could sense through the Force that I was from Naboo?”

Grogu nodded his little head and softly babbled out a reply, and (Y/N) silently wished that she could understand what he was always saying to them.

“I always knew that you and I were alike…” She quietly admitted as the child snuggled against the soft material of her sleeping shirt. “We were both forced to flee our homes at a young age, we both spent years on our own in an unforgiving galaxy, we both were changed for the better when Din Djarin came into our lives and now, we both seem to share a connection to Naboo.” Seeing his eyelids beginning to grow heavy, she gave his forehead another kiss and rubbed soothing circles over his back. “We’ll get the hang of this Mandalorian lifestyle soon, little guy. You’ll have me and I’ll have you, okay?”

Yawning, Grogu let out a sleepy and content coo and (Y/N) leaned back against the headboard as sleep began to overtake her, the feeling of the child’s calm heartbeat the last thing she remembered before falling into a dreamless slumber.

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Mando’a Translations:

Alor’ad-Captain Riduur-Spouse

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! Oh, and I’ve created a Spotify playlist of all my favorite music from the world of Star Wars, so if you’re interested in checking it out the link is down below!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2KuSKJhVOPPvxdJ9YHeo4M?si=2977ff31bf0c4bdd

Chapter Thirty-Six

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty @sinon36 @seninjakitey @thatonedindjarinfan @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mostclevermiss @momc95 @welcometothepedroverse @sarahjkl82-blog @elinedjarin @itsnottilly @crowleysqueenofhell @goldielocks2004 @wondergal2001 @groovy-lady @impala1967666 @fluffy-canada-pancakes @icee228

#taking care of business #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu #the child #baby yoda #r5d4 #the armorer #paz vizsla #bo katan kryze #star wars #din djarin x f!reader

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intothemurkwood · 9 months

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MIGHT OF MAND'ALOR

AO3 Chapter Link: MIGHT OF MAND’ALOR - Chapter 2

Story Summary: Guided by your late father's teachings, you've learned that your powers transcend the conventional divide, showing that things aren't as clear-cut as the Sith and Jedi doctrines suggest. When Moff Gideon seeks your capture and Bo'Katan Kryze defies him, the Great Purge of Mandalore unfolds, setting the stage for a clash between light and darkness, with you trapped in between.

Chapter Summary: The Death Watch Enclave on Concordia is over run.

Word Count: 4K+

Might of Mand'alor Series on AO3

Warning: Graphic descriptions of violence, PTSD, ideations of death, self sacrifice, violence toward children, war, genoicide. Arranged Marriage.

Author Note: Terrible things happen in this chapter, but I promise it gets much worse before it gets better.

Tag List: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

==EXPLICIT CONTENT: 18+ ONLY==

CHAPTER 2

Concordia - Death Watch Enclave

“Vizsla,” Theghti calls, drawing you from your thoughts just in time to catch the yai’yai (field ration) before it beams off your helmet. “Good, thought you were sleeping.”

“Pining, that one.” Vurr’s modulator cracks with a laugh as he unwraps his yai’yai. You wait until he has it unwrapped before quick-drawing your blaster. The low powered round hits the knuckle plate of his shun’bur, knocking the yai’yai from his hand to the floor. The four verda (warriors) all turn to look at you as you holster your blaster.

“Osi’kyr—Vizsla! (Fuck—Vizsla!)” Vurr feigns a scoff, as if he wouldn’t lick the floor clean if no one was around.

“Have the children eaten?” You ask, tilting your head at them. Vurr snatches up his yai’yai and hastily crams it up under his helmet before you can fire off another shot. He says something unintelligible as he waves his gloved hand at you. You watch him head into the great hall to attend to the children. Nearly two hundred children huddled inside the base.

“That man could eat a bantha and not gain a single pound.” Theghti mutters, watching Vurr toss a small child into the air.

“Any word from Paz?” Skajert asks.

“No.” You slip the yai’yai into your pouch and lean back on the crate, propping your boots up on the handle of your Z-6 rotary blaster cannon. Now you contemplate sleep. You’re not sure when the next opportunity might arise.

When Darth Maul defeated your father, claiming the title of Mand'alor with a decapitation that was both brutal and necessary, the universe shifted. Bo’Katan Kryze's refusal to serve Maul led to the splintering of the Kyr'tsad (Death Watch), but you saw the truth. You and Paz chose the old ways, the Way of the Dark, and rallied thousands.

Your heart was steadfast as civil war broke out on Mandalore. Destruction was not chaos; it was the universe's will. Houses, clans, and truces were torn down, and in their place rose something purer. Your father's death was not a loss but a transformation. Paz arranged your marriage to Baaran Lok at seventeen, a union not of love but necessity. Lok wasn't cruel, but distant. The arrangement serves a greater purpose, a testament to the One Truth: "Only power is real, and the only real power is the power to destroy. Existence is fleeting. Destruction is eternal." The arrangement was the very sacrifice of love, and it served you well.

All you can think about is the purpose behind every act, every decision. It is an unavoidable truth… how the Way of the Dark can guide even the most tender moments. You had meant to wish your riduur jate’kara (husband good fortune) before he departed, but his attachment held you back. He clung to you for a long silent moment, helmets pressed together. His chest shook in silent sobs, with the weight of understanding. You both know that violence, destruction, even death—they are but steps in the path to power. It was supposed to have been you on the front lines, but Paz needed certainty that the children would be safe.

“Bi cuyi ner Mand’entye. (It is my debt to carry.)” You whisper the words as verda (warriors) hustle past you on the tarmac. He’s silent for a moment. A million words hang between you and he says the last thing you ever thought he would say.

“Jorso'ran kando a tome. (We shall bear the weight together.)” Lok’s fingers tightened around your neck.

“Ibic jareor. (This is reckless.)” It had been the unspoken truth until you had uttered it.

“Ibic Manda. (This is the way.)” Lok released you and you watched as he walked up the gangway, never looking back. Paz stood at the edge of the cargo hold, his shoulders low as he held your gaze, bearing the weight of your father’s deeds.

“Nayc, cyar’ika (No, sweetheart),” Theghti’s sharp tone startles you awake as he snatches a youngling up. You drop the vibroblade from your shaking hand and flop back against the crate, huffing out an apology. You can’t recall reaching for your blade, it’s reflexive now. ”Never wake a sleeping warrior by hand. Call us, and we shall wake.”

“I am very sorry,”

“What did you need, sweetheart?” Theghti crouches down with the young girl, and you lazily retrieve your blade from the floor, sinking it back into your sheath.

“I wanted to sleep with Nynir so that I am safe.”

The laugh escapes you before you can contain it. You can’t see his expression under his helmet, but you know for certain Theghti is glaring at you. The image of yourself cradling a youngling seems so foreign to you. Your husband had never made an attempt to have children with you. He simply took you to bed once a year just to maintain his duties to you. A divorce would have been scandalous.

Once you’re on your feet, you lock your blaster cannon beside your jetpack and scoop up the youngling, cradling her against your waist. Theghti seems surprised and you’re grateful he keeps the comments to himself. You try to quiet the heavy steps of your magboots as you head into the makeshift barracks.

“Have you been named?” You ask. Of course she has, she’s wearing a helmet, but it’s polite to ask.

“Khiggi Eldar.”

Eldar… You’ll be gentle with this one, or face the wrath of the Eldar House.

“Why do they call you Nynir if it is not your name?”

“The boys…” You hike her up above your utility belt and glance at her, “They like to tease. My gun is big and scary, but when I fire it, it makes a very silly sound. Nee-neer, nee-neer, nee-neer.” You poke her side with a gloved finger and she squeals. “They say my gun speaks as it fires. Do you know what it says?”

“Nynir, (Strike,)” Khiggi giggles and you can’t help but smile.

“My gun only speaks when there is danger. Tell me, Khiggi, what do you hear?”

“I think she is sleeping.”

She. What a blessing this one is.

“Yes, she is sleeping, and you must sleep too.”

“Nynir,” Sath’s whisper stops you in your tracks. She holds her arms out expectantly, leaning up from her cot. You glance at the rows and rows of cots, most with two or three children curled up on them. You pass Khiggi down to Sath, knowing that she is capable of keeping Khiggi contained.

“Jate ca, (good night,)” You clench your fist over your heart and Sath gives you a nod; Her arms are occupied, it will do.

“Jate ca, Nee-neer.” Khiggi manages, before her modulator cracks with a sharp yawn. The other children are all in various states of sleep as you exit the barracks. Theghti offers you a nod, before slipping a pipe under his helmet. The smell of cassius flowers permeates the hangar.

The air is still, and a strangeness quivers in the shadows. As you step outside of the hangar and look up to the night sky, the devastation unfolding on Mandalore becomes clear. Imperial ships loom. There had been no call to alert your base. Your heart pounds with a terrible understanding. Tie bombers drop fusion bombs that bathe the planet in an infernal glow.

The Great Purge of Mandalore does not shock or dismay you; it confirms what you've known all along. Destruction is not merely an end; it's a purification, a necessary culling that makes way for the new. You see in the annihilation of your planet the embodiment of the Dark. Bo-Katan Kryze's refusal to follow the true path, her refusal to join you, was more than a betrayal; it was a sign of her unworthiness to lead. Her obstinacy had brought about the very destruction she sought to prevent. And now, you feel a renewed strength in your convictions, knowing that what has been destroyed will give rise to something more potent, more aligned with the natural order of power and chaos. This is the Way.

A sharp crackle over the comms stills your heart. The line buzzes as the transmission fluctuates. “Ner vod’ika— (My little sister—)” The garbled transmission breaks your attention and you turn away from the sight of Mandalore’s destruction.

“Ori’vod? (Big brother?)” You ask, hustling across the tarmac in hopes of getting into better range of the signal out in the open.

“Tion’vaii gar? (Where are you?)” Paz’s voice comes through loud and clear and you freeze mid stride.

“At the enclave.”

“Vod’ika, I’m not going to make it.” Paz’s words send your heart into your throat and you can hear your pulse start to race in your ears.

“Nayc! (No!) You swore to me!”

“I know.” He whispers, his voice soft, too soft.

“Ba’slan— (Retreat—)”

“Nayc!” You yell, tears welling in your eyes. He wouldn’t dare order you to leave, not unless... “Swear to me, Ori’jag (big guy), that you will make it out and you will find me.” You whisper. Pain grips your chest as you refuse to believe that this is the end for him.

Static washes over the private channel, but his voice comes through crystal clear, “I promise I will find you… Haat, Isaac, haa’it. Ke nadir haar’ke’gyce ba’slan shev’la. Tion’waii mar’eyir—? (Truth, honor, vision. Execute the strategic disappearance. Where will I find [you]—?)” The channel cuts out as a blinding flash of light washes over you. You look around the tarmac that now appears bathed in daylight. The blinding flash strobes in the night sky, a massive explosion on the surface of Mandalore. Sundari, the capital city where all the verda had gathered… It’s blown open. Mangled pieces of the super structures erupt high into the atmosphere.

“Ni pare gar shal ashi eso. (I will wait for you at the other side.)

The brightness of the night sky only grows. You filter through your channels checking your comms to find that they are all empty. Raising your hand to shield from the radiant glow bathing Mandalore you catch sight of a shadow. Footsteps thunder beneath you as you draw your blaster, ready to take out any enemies. Something is off about their trajectory. It’s a verda, wounded, about to crash headlong into the tarmac. You clench your right fist, the gesture activating your jetpack, taking a split second to bring your weight off the tarmac. You give full throttle.

The verda crashes into you and you wrap your arms around him. He at least has his wits enough to cut off his thrusters. Both of you crash down to the tarmac, drawing the attention of Thegti puffing on his pipe inside the hangar.

“Droids—the comms are—we need to…” The verda is barely making sense as you drag him up to his feet. Theghti rushes over, medpack in hands. He has some sort of twisted shrapnel sticking out of his abdomen, but there doesn’t appear to be an exit wound. It’s the sort of wound you only see when heavy ordinances are being used.

“Stims, he’s in shock. Abdominal shrapnel wound.” You mutter and Theghti is quick to pull out his stimpack.

“Talk to me, Vod. What happened?”

“Droids—they’re coming.”

“It’s alright, vod.” Theghti readies the stim and pulls down his cape, sinking the needle tip of the injector into his neck. “Breathe.” The man groans, continuing to ramble on about droids. You and Theghti exchange a look.

“I spoke to Paz, right before this one flew in. He ordered us to retreat off Concordia.”

“The droids are coming. They—the whole base is gone. Everyone is gone. Gone. There were so many—” The sharp plink of your helmets slamming together silences his rambling. You hold his head, staring straight at his visor.

“Everyone is not gone, there are still 200 hundred children that need to be evacuated. What base were you stationed at, vod?”

“Ruus’kan, (Rock fortress,)” The man’s voice was becoming steady as the stim permeated his system.

“Ruus’kan?” Theghti gives you a long stare. If Ruus’kan was under siege, it would mean you wouldn’t have a lot of time to evacuate the children.

“We didn’t stand a chance. They obliterated the base. It’s gone. Gone. It’s a crater—nothing left but the exposed mineshaft.” His words hit like a punch to the gut. Ruus’kan wasn’t under siege, it’s already gone. You didn’t have time to think of what that meant. Not for what was coming, but what had been lost.

“Droids? Ships?” If the Imperial ships shift their target to Concordia, millions more will die.

“A whole brigade of KX enforcer droids. Viper droids. They called in an airstrike. Thousands of droids are heading this way. His name was Paz. He told me to find his sister and evacuate her children. I have to find her.” The man sucks in a ragged breath.

“You found her. You did good.” Theghti says, tilting his helmet toward you.

“I did? I found her?” He scans the hangar before he twists out of your grasp. He catches your shoulder before kissing your helmets together. Theghti raises his hands in shock, reaches for the man but stops when you wave him off. Paz sent this man to you, the least you can do is hear what he has to say. “Paz made me swear on the pain of death that I would protect and take care of you and your children.”

Theghti waves his hand catching your attention as he makes a gesture to suggest that he’s probably a little high on stims. Your hand drags up on instinct, your fingers grasping the back of his neck as you acknowledge his vow, but you don’t get the chance to respond.

“What’s goin’ on, Vod?” Puck calls from the hangar and the man releases you to gaze around the hangar with a heavy head.

“Ba’slan Shev’la.” Your order rings hollow in the hangar and for a moment the other warriors stare at you in disbelief. It was a direct order to escape to a predetermined safe haven. The only issue is that there are only five ships, and over two hundred children hunkered down inside. The vast majority of which had yet to earn the title of Mandalorian Apprentice. Some of whom hadn’t earned their first helmets yet. You release the man and he steps back allowing you to take in the sight of him. “Tell me, Vod. What is your name?”

“Din Djarin, sir.” He says. You don’t recognize either of them as being a formal House or Clan name. He bears no emblem to designate a clan, and still has pieces of armor from his service in the Fighting Corp. Paz wouldn’t have just sent any man to you. He would have picked the strongest of the men to send to you… and he didn’t send Lok.

“I need you to go wake the children. Tell them to file into five equal lines, and board the ships for evacuation. Can you handle that?

“Yes, sir.” Din Djarin nods, and you belt the back of his helmet, sending him sprinting into the hangar.

“A whole brigade…” Theghti whispers, glancing at the other warriors and keeping his voice low. “How far out?” Ten to fifteen thousand droids are heading this way. Even five of the best verda wouldn’t stand a chance. It will be a bloodbath unless you get out right now.

“I don’t know. We need to make haste. The children must be evacuated.” Together, you swiftly organize the evacuation of the children, waking them from their sleep and herding them towards the waiting ships in the hangar.

In the urgency of ushering the children onto your own ship the air shakes around you. It’s a feeling you’ve only felt once before. The thrusters of thousands of droids in flight disturbing the air pressure. It’s a horrifying sensation to feel the air quivering around you, and the children can sense it too.

The heavy landing of a droid just outside the hangar signals the arrival of a formidable foe. You wade through the children to watch as several more KX Enforcer droids drop down from the outcropping above. A lone Viper probe flutters down and turns toward the hangar. A red wave sweeps across the hangar as it scans for available targets. There is no other choice but to protect the ships while the children finish loading.

“Get the ade on the ships, now!” You bark the order at Din Djarin and he rushes back toward the barracks where children are still filing out. The children hasten their steps, the urgency in your voice heightening. Without a second thought you grab your heavy blaster cannon, charging around the gangway, prepared to protect the children with your life. It will give the children precious seconds to board the ships.

The clash is swift and fierce, but you and your fellow Kyr’tsad verda are quickly outnumbered as more enforcer droids land on the tarmac. You make the difficult decision to order a retreat, urging the other verda to make their escape to their waiting ships while you provide covering fire. The ade are far more important than your home, or your own life. Laying down heavy fire will give them a chance to escape. Rounds glance off your armor. Beskar armor might be impenetrable, but the force of each shot sends shocks to your body. You’re struggling to stay upright—out gunned, and outnumbered.

The hangar rumbles as one of the ships full throttles out of the hangar. You watch in disbelief as Skajert’s ship blasts from the hangar, the gangway of his ship still open, children slip out, crashing down to the hangar floor. There is no time to scream as you charge toward the children. Droids turn, taking aim.

As enforcer droids close in, anger rises within you. Your homeworld lay in ruins, your people wiped out in the blink of an eye. Bitter rage, for your friends, your family. Your way of life is being robbed from you, your identity, your husband—your brother.

An all consuming rage surges through your being, empowering you with an otherworldly strength. That strength manifests as your fist connects with the durasteel plating of the Viper probe. It explodes, sending it flying across the hangar, the concussive shockwave taking out four other droids. A ferocious roar tears from your modulator as you bash through three more KX droids. This burst of rage draws the attention away from the children and you raise your arms, deflecting blaster bolts with a terrifying precision.

As blaster rounds ricochet off your armor, pain jolts through your body as several rounds graze soft flesh. Pain transcends sensation, becoming fuel for your rampage through the droids. You bulldoze a path straight to the screaming children

Theghti blasts past you, crashing into two droids, while Din Djarin snatches up the two children. You grab the other two, hugging them to your chest and fire rockets. Rounds whizz past your helmet. Theghti is waiting, grabbing the children from you and rushing back to his ship.

“Hukaat! (Cover me!)” Theghti yells. You whirl around pulling out both your blasters, rapid firing rounds to provide cover as the men retreat with the children. There are too many droids to count and they are swarming the entrance to the hanger.

Summoning your remaining strength, you fight your way back to your ship as the other Death Watch ships begin to launch from the hangar. Blaster fire singes the air around you filling the air with the unmistakable smell of ozone as you retreat. You are a solitary figure standing against an overwhelming force.

With a jerk of your head you signal the ships to leave.

“What are you doing, Nynir? Get the kriff on your ship!” Theghti’s voice cuts in over a private transmission. You glance at Din Djarin firing up your ship. Your holster your blasters, sparks showering around you, and you reach for your heavy blaster cannon.

“This is the way.” You cut off the transmission before Theghti can respond. This is why Paz had you stay. To clear the path for the next generation.

“My orders supersede yours.” Din Djarin’s voice is barely audible over the scream of blaster fire. You glance at the ship, the barrels of your blaster cannon are already starting to glow red hot. Paz swore to you. He swore to you that he would find you. He swore it.

The last of the other ships disappear out of sight. Your own ship is taking heavy fire from the relentless enforcer droids. For a moment, you fear they’ve left without looking back, until a rocket explodes in a blaze of destruction, obliterating several droids.

Seizing the opportunity, you sprint towards your ship, every step weighed down by the encroaching threat. With a surge of adrenaline, you stagger up the side gangway, smashing your palm on the control panel to raise both the side and rear gangways. The children squeeze tight together to get out of your way. Up the ladder and into the cockpit of the Razor Crest. Din Djarin slips into the co-pilot seat, clutching Khiggi Eldar to his chest. Alarms ring on the dashboard as the ship's deflectors rapidly deplete. You demagnetize your back plate, your jetpack and heavy blaster cannon dropping to the floor as you sink into the pilot seat.

There is no avoiding the flood of droids, so you punch the accelerator smashing through their tight formation. Your deflectors fail, but you’re able to make it out of the hangar. The ship struggles to climb, the readouts on your screen flash warnings about weight capacity. There was no time to clear the ship of cargo. You maneuver your ship low through the canyons as you reunite with the other ships waiting for you.

The ships fall into a natural V-5 formation, with Skajert and Puck taking the lead. You cling to the tail end of the fleeing Kyr’tsad verda, your ship weighed down by its cargo and struggling against Concordia's gravity. The radio crackles with the chaotic chatter of the other warriors, their voices filled with urgency as they try to agree on a destination planet.

“Ke'duum koori serim taap. (Let's agree on an exact place.)” Skajert’s voice cuts in on the comms. The sound of his voice makes you sick. He will pay for his cowardice, but not now. Not with the safety of the children at stake.

“How many children made it on board?” You ask, glancing back at Din Djarin. He glances back to the wide open cockpit door. Sath’s purple helmet scans the children piled in the storage room.

“I counted 82 the first time, and 81 the second time.” Sath says. “Oh—Khiggi.”

“I got scared.” Khiggi says sheepishly.

81 children. Five Verda, and a little over two hundred children. Your hand tightens around the throttle, coaxing the ship to climb from the atmosphere. Skajert left in such a hurry, dumping the children in his cowardly escape. You wonder exactly how many children were on the other ships.

“Tion’vaii? (Where?)” Vurr asks, his voice cutting over the comm.

“Tion’Ossus? (Ossus?)” Puck asks, though he doesn’t sound sure.

“Nayc, Dathomir. (No,)” Skajert says.

“Ne’gebi Manda'yaim. (No, too close to Mandalore.)”

Your eyes widen in horror as Puck’s ship explodes, the shockwave jolting your senses as you bank hard, pushing your ship to its limits. The strained engines howl until they fade into an eerie silence as you breach the threshold of space.

“Take her!” Djarin yells, practically throwing Khiggi into Sath’s arms.

The clicks of the missile approach warning system grow to a terrifying scream, warning you of an incoming lock-on. You yank the yoke, executing a tight maneuver to break away from the pursuing enemy. Your voice rings out in the cabin, issuing urgent commands, but the Verda remain divided as blaster fire glances off your ships. Djarin is already on the offensive and returning fire but it’s not enough. The holoview star map whirls, spinning too fast for him to make sense of it. You are being herded, kept in tight formations to prevent you from making the crucial jump into hyperspace.

With calculated precision, you jettison a cargo pod from beneath your ship, watching with grim satisfaction as an enemy vessel vanishes from radar. Leveling out the ship, you push the throttle forward, desperately accelerating, your heart pounding in your chest.

A blinding flash erupts from your starboard side as a direct hit strikes your ship. The scream of children mingles with the acrid smell of smoke. It’s possible that your ship will rip itself apart at light speed, or that your blind jump to hyperspace will vaporize you and the children as you atomize straight through a star. The moment you clear the gravity well of Concordia you level out, punching the throttle forward, forcing the ship to accelerate to light speed. Kriff pre-light checks. You have no choice but to make a quick hop. Undeterred, you activate the hyperdrive, plunging into the unknown.

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #might of mand'alor #reader as paz vizsla's sister #mandalorian fic

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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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#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x reader x paz vizsla #paz vizsla #paz vizla x reader #mand’alor din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando fanfiction #mando x reader #no use of y/n #ao3 author #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #Paz vizsla smut

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corazondebeskar-reads · 6 months

Text

toni's fanfic masterlist

a collection of all of my fic, mostly ft. Din Djarin and Joel Miller

Key: 🏴 = dark, 💕 = fluff, ⛓ = bdsm, 💀 = dead dove do not eat

18+ ONLY, minors DNI. All fics on this list are explicit and f!reader unless otherwise stated.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

last updated: 4/6/2024

Din Djarin

Series

⛓💕 well it's love, make it hurt

(Complete, dom!Din Djarin x f!reader)

summary: After The Mandalorian begrudgingly teamed up with you for a big-ticket bounty, you find you work surprisingly well together, and you propose a short-term partnership. Weeks become months, and your hunting partnership becomes muddled as you explore a new dynamic onboard the Razor Crest.

🏴 live to rise

(complete; gladiator!Din Djarin x f!reader)

summary: The Last of the Mandalorians have fallen; their Mand'alor captured. Stripped of his armor, his weapons, his people. Din rises to fight another day, grasping onto the hope that his son still lives.

No fighter has won their freedom from the Empire's arena before. With the help of a servant girl, can he hope to break free?

One Shots

don't let me get carried away

summary: Mando finds the toy you use when he's gone and makes you demonstrate.

for Manda'yaim (Din Djarin x f!reader x Paz Vizsla)

summary: Now that they have reclaimed their homeworld, the Children of the Watch resurrect an ancient ritual to secure the future of their people. Reader is one of the volunteers chosen to bear the next generation of Mando'ade.

🏴💀 worry not

summary: Mand'alor Din Djarin is haunted by the Darksaber, and you suffer the consequences.

💕 mhi ba'juri verde

summary: After Din is crowned Mand'alor, you make good on your promise to fulfill the rest of your vows.

🏴 ori'skraan

summary: The Mand'alor needs to feed to regain his strength, so you are called upon to fulfill the most sacred of your duties.

🏴💀I'll take care of you

summary: Din takes care of you after a head injury leaves you helpless.

stuck in a lonely loop

summary: Din can't let go of the feeling that something's wrong, even if you deny it.

🏴nobody is coming to save you

summary: You get caught by a Mandalorian bounty hunter after fleeing your marriage.

Din Djarin x reader x Boba Fett

copaani gaan? (Din Djarin x f!reader x Boba Fett)

summary: Din catches you blushing after Boba Fett flirts with you. He instigates and encourages you to fuck Fett while he watches.

mhi me'dinui an and prequel (Din Djarin x f!reader x Boba Fett x Cobb Vanth)

summary: After the events of The Book of Boba Fett, you get railed by Din Djarin, Boba Fett, and Cobb Vanth.

Joel Miller

Series

🏴💀 all I did was what I had to (complete; dark!Joel x f!reader)

summary: this is a series of snapshots following dark!raider/hunter!Joel Miller and f!reader, who he saves from her abusive spouse for a slightly better situation. It's very dark and so far all the parts involve watersports, if that's your kind of thing.

you know you never stood a chance (complete; qz!Joel x f!reader)

summary: When your neighbor Joel finds out you've resorted to prostitution to make ends meet, he makes sure he's your first client, and proposes a different deal.

ain't no rest for the wicked (complete; tess x f!reader x joel)

summary: Joel would never complain about what he and Tess have. The only thing is that, sometimes, he’d like to be the one in control. Tess has a proposition: she’ll find a sub for Joel that they can both enjoy. It’s not an easy feat... until they stumble upon you in a dark alley.

🏴💀 the art of breaking (pt. ii coming spring 2024)

summary: Your meeting is happenstance, but everything that follows? Well, that’s all Joel. He just knows you’re going to be his perfect little toy. He just has to show you how.

🏴of rage and ruin (ongoing; werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader)

summary: Joel Miller made it twelve years into the apocalypse without getting bit. He turns into a much different kind of monster than he expected, though.

One Shots

🏴💀 the devil you don't know (or however it goes)

summary: When Joel's men bring back the (adult) daughter of a rival group of hunters, he sees an opportunity. This is VERY dark.

-- the aftermath (by demand; my thoughts on the possible endings. i stand by the original though.)

💕 a home amongst the stars

summary: Joel gets home after a late patrol and finds solace in your warm body.

💕 to know that you're mine

summary: Joel Miller is a pussy eating king with a praise kink. That's it, that's the fic. sub!Joel if you squint.

remember what you're staring at is me

summary: A videotape is left on your porch one morning, and it changes everything about your budding relationship with Joel Miller.

drabbles/ficlets

🏴💀 too much

summary: you never know when to shut up.

🏴 not enough

summary: a companion to "too much;" it's rough sex and choking with Joel. that's it, that's the fic.

🏴💀no one could save me but you

summary: You're under the care of Dr. Miller at an inpatient mental health facility. He has a vested interest in your "recovery."

🏴💀seasons don't

summary: Your husband dies a hero, but it's no comfort to you.

🏴💀no loyalty in the apocalypse

summary: Your group falls victim to Joel Miller's hunters.

🏴💀better run

summary: You should have never tried to run from Joel.

💕 let's all go to the lobby

summary: a date night with joel miller

💕 could be

summary: jackson is not your home. joel miller is not your boyfriend. but they could be.

Honorable Mentions: Events

(most of these are in the other sections but if you want to read through in order, there's this.)

Kinktober 2023

Febuwhump 2024

#joel miller x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian fic #din djarin x f!reader #dom din djarin #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfic #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #joel miller x f!reader

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javier-pena · 10 months

Text

permission

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader x Paz Vizsla

Word Count: 3.3k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You belong to Paz ... but there's something about Din Djarin. He's on your mind constantly.

Notes: I had the idea for this fic somewhere toward the end of Mandalorian S3 and then it took me a while to find the time to write it but here it is 🤭 shoutout, as always, to Dani @alexturner for reading this in advance even though she definitely isn't a Paz girlie.

***

The air in the private booth is stuffy, filled with laughter, with cries and music, with the sounds of metal jugs hitting wooden surfaces, spilling their contents over tables and hands. The only thing separating you from the commotion beyond is a thin curtain, only there to give the occupants of the room a semblance of privacy.

It’s just you and Paz tonight – he sits perched on a wooden stool that groans under his massive body every time he shifts. You sit on his lap, cool beskar steel pressing into your thighs through your thin pants. And then there’s Din Djarin, whom you have known for as long as you’ve known Paz, maybe even longer. Memories begin to blur when you hop from planet to planet, from system to system.

With one hand, Din lifts his helmet so his chin and bottom lip are exposed, and takes a sip from his drink. Paz mirrors him, shifting his weight and you with it. You lean closer to him for some purchase against his hard chest, looking at a spot just behind Din’s head, at a brown stain on a gray wall, at a lamp barely bright enough to illuminate a little corner, at a small bug scurrying down from the ceiling. You look anywhere but at Din’s visor, anywhere but at the macrobinocular viewplate that hides his piercing eyes, those eyes he can’t keep off you, that have been on you ever since you all sat down. As long as you find other things to focus on, his gaze doesn’t hold any power over you.

“Are you’re sure they’re on this planet?” you attempt to make conversation, to distract Din and yourself.

Both men grunt, but that’s the only response they grant you.

You shift on Paz’s lap, you squirm, and he slings an arm around your waist, gloved hand coming to rest on your stomach. His other hand holds onto his jug while his eyes pin down the man opposite him.

“If I was running from the law, I’d try to hide somewhere warm, preferably with a beach,” you try to strike up a conversation for a second time.

“They’re not running from the law,” Paz answers, his thumb brushing against your stomach.

“No, I know,” you say. “I was just saying, there are nicer places to hi-”

The rest of the sentence is lost somewhere in the stuffy air as Paz’s hand glides lower, two fingers coming to rest at the apex of your thighs, pressing down. You can’t be sure, but you think Din’s gaze follows Paz’s motions … at least he lowers his helmet slightly. He could also be staring at your chest, you realize, your face hot with embarrassment.

“Where would you hide then?” Din asks, a metallic undertone in his voice, distorted by the modulator in his helmet.

“Niamos, maybe,” you answer. “I’ve heard Spira is nice –”

An insistent pull low in your abdomen makes you leave the sentence hovering unfinished in the air above the table. Two of Paz’s fingers are massaging you through your pants, the pressure enough to light up your core, not really enough for anything else. You grip the edge of the table, pretend you’re trying to get more comfortable on Paz’s lap, while Din raises his head, his gaze settling on the man behind you. There is a wordless exchange – you can see it in the way Din shifts his shoulders, hear it in the harsh exhale of breath coming through Paz’s modulator.

Suddenly, Paz slings his arm around your chest and grips your shoulder with his free hand. “Do you really think you’d be able to outrun us?”

Your vision blurs as you see yourself cowering in a dark air vent, as you imagine yourself crouching behind the trunk of a sturdy tree, laying low in a run-down motel, scraping together some credits to bribe an official to let you off a planet without papers. All the while, you’re looking over your shoulder, you scan every crowd for a flash of beskar, blue or brown, for the glint of a visor reflecting sunlight. You see them kick down the door to your room, tie you up, drag you back to their ship … No, you wouldn’t be able to outrun them.

You shake your head.

“No, you’re right,” Paz agrees, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, even with the helmet covering his face.

He slips his hand past the waistband of your pants then, the coarse leather of his glove rough against the soft skin of your thighs and belly. He reaches down to where wet heat has begun to moisten your underwear, and holds you, his palm resting against your clit. Din’s chest is rising and falling so fast you notice it in spite of the strong armor covering him. You force yourself to stare directly at his visor, to imagine his hidden eyes on you, his mouth hanging open. Your own mouth is dry, you can feel your heartbeat in your throat.

“I think you’d like that,” Paz goes on. “I think you’d like being at our mercy like that.”

You nod, because he’s right. You nod, because the thought has crossed your mind once or twice, when you watched them bring someone in, when you watched them handle their bounty as if they weighed nothing, their captive’s pleas falling on deaf ears. You nod, because Din’s hand closes harder around his jug, the leather of his glove groaning.

Paz notices too, and you can hear the gloating in his voice when he speaks next. “Would you like to touch her?”

You belong to Paz, but Din – it’s complicated. It’s an open secret there’s tension between the two men, between these two brothers by creed, because Paz got to you first. It’s a well-guarded secret, hidden in a deep, dark corner of your heart, that you sometimes wish Din had been first, that you sometimes lie awake, imagining his hands on you instead of Paz’s. And it’s a fact that Paz likes to tease both of you because of that.

Paz’s question is followed by a shift of his palm, by increased pressure against your clit. You bite your lip to contain a whimper.

“Paz …,” Din says, and it sounds like a warning. Or a plea.

“You know what to say,” Paz responds, and a shiver runs down your spine at the commanding tone in his voice.

Your eyes are glued to Din’s visor, a silent plea written all over your face. Say yes, say yes, say yes. But Din only has eyes for his brother, his rival, purposefully avoiding your gaze. And then he speaks.

“May I touch her, please?”

The strain in his voice does make you whimper this time. Paz hears it, and so does Din. A big hand is grabbing one of your breasts now, squeezing it, rolling your nipple. You find purchase between the table and Paz’s thigh, but you can already feel the sizzling edges of an orgasm making its way toward you with greedy hands. Din watches, shifts in his seat, adjusts himself in his pants. And somewhere, far away, a man shouts, a glass bursts.

“Go on, then,” Paz says, letting go of your breast to spread your thighs with a sure motion.

Here? is your first thought. The second, much louder one, is Fuck …! as Din stands up, shaking hands balled into fists at his side, a visible bulge in his dark pants.

Paz pushes you off his lap, pulls down your pants and underwear in one quick motion, then pulls you back toward his chest. He spreads you open with both hands, an offering for Din to do with as he pleases. Or maybe not quite. Because when Din gets to work on pulling his cock out of his pants, Paz snaps, “No. Get on your knees.”

Din stops, uncoils his fingers, then balls them into fists again, a quick succession of small movements. His shoulders tense as he looks at you, spread open for him, as he wonders if the price might be too high after all. You know him well enough to know he’s weighing getting to touch you against following Paz’s rules. He can’t have one without the other. You want to whisper his name, you want to call out for him, but one wrong move, one wrong word, and Paz is going to take this away from the both of you.

Din stills his hands eventually, presses the open palms against his thighs, and makes up his mind. You feel the ground shake as he falls to his knees in front of you, then raises his helmet to seek out your eyes. The visor is too dark for you to be able to tell what lies beyond it, and you wish you’d be allowed to see his face, his eyes, just once, but before you can even ask for something as ridiculous as that, your vision turns dark.

“Take off your helmet,” Paz commands as he ties a piece of dark fabric tightly over your eyes. You squirm as your heart begins to race, but Paz presses you tightly against his body. “Stay still,” he whispers into your ear. “We’re going to take care of you.”

You feel a pounding between your legs at the hissing sound you hear next. Your breathing is too hard, too shallow, but with your eyesight gone, you have to rely on your other senses. The shouts from behind the curtain are louder than before – you can make out individual voices, certain words and phrases – and you are keenly aware of the fact that any second now someone could burst into the room to see you spread open like this with a man kneeling between your legs while another one holds you down.

That doesn’t stop your chest from vibrating with a deep moan when Din tentatively licks across the wet heat between your thighs. The first stroke of his tongue is a relief, the second kindles something within you, the third one and all the others following are torture. Paz starts to massage your breast again and your head falls back against his chest, relying on him and Din to make sure you won’t slide to the floor. Din’s licks become faster, more eager, as he buries his face between your legs, drinking you down like he’s starving and the taste of you is the only thing that can save him. His hands find their way to your thighs and he digs his fingers into your soft skin, spreading you even further, licking deeper and deeper.

“Don’t touch her,” Paz growls.

Din squeezes your thighs, but lets go quickly. You miss his touch, but know better than to say something. Instead, you twine your legs around his shoulders, caging him in with your thighs. He moans against your clit, and you shiver, pressing yourself harder against his chin and tongue and nose. Then his hands are on the back of your thighs, massaging your ass, pressing you even closer as he starts to feast on you, barely coming up for air.

“I said don’t fucking touch her.” Paz pulls you off Din’s shoulders, away from him, and stands while dropping you onto his stool.

It’s pathetic, really, the way you whimper, “Please,” but neither man hears you. You just hear sounds, a whirr, the sound of Din’s angry grunts of protest, armor clanging against armor. And then Paz says, “That’ll teach you”.

He picks you up again and places you back on his lap, and then Din’s face is pushed against you. He grunts his surprise and you hiss at the sudden return of his tongue. You hear the sound of leather tightening, and then Din’s head moves as if he has been shoved. A second later, both of Paz’ hands are on your body again, while Din’s remain absent.

Your entire body hums with the sensation of Din licking into you, each stroke hungrier than the last, while Paz holds you against him, watches over you, makes sure you’re okay. Sometimes, there are orders, “Not too fast. More pressure. Take your time with her,” other times there are questions, “Do you like how wet she is for you? Do you see how her legs are shaking?” and sometimes there are encouragements, “Yes, that’s it. You’re doing so well. Beautiful.” You’re not quite sure who the recipient of those is.

You come once with a surprised shout, spilling down Din’s chin, and hear all the sounds become wetter. Din doesn’t stop though, and Paz doesn’t tell him to either, and when you try to squirm away, raw and overstimulated, Paz makes sure you stay in place. You come a second time, moaning and panting so loudly Paz clamps a hand over your mouth until all you can taste is leather. Even after you’ve stopped shaking, even when you can’t do anything but hang limply between their bodies, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your heart beating so fast it feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest, blood rushing in your ears and pounding through your body, Paz still doesn’t let go, only says, “Another one.” Your feeble protest is lost between his thick fingers covered in hard leather.

You’re not sure you can come a third time, even though you can feel yourself flutter against Din’s tongue from time to time, even though there is an insistent throbbing there every time he sucks your clit into his mouth. Too weak to push him off, even if Paz would let you, all you can do is lie there and take it until they’re both satisfied. Paz squeezes your nipple again, but finally releases your jaw, and you breathe in deeply, gulp down air. The sweat running down from your brow mingles with a few stray tears pushing past the blindfold.

“Come on, girl, you can take it,” Paz whispers somewhere above you, and you nod, licking your dry lips.

The next thing you feel is Paz’s naked finger against your lips, tasting of Revnog. You lick it eagerly, tasting the sharp sting of the drink and the rich flavor of leather. As a reward, he grants you two fingers next, both coated in Revnog. As you suck them into your mouth, Din shifts between your legs, changing the angle slightly, and you’re pulled forward by a third orgasm, one that’s been building for a while now, one that catches you by surprise and refuses to let you go once it has you in its grasp. Your moans are choked by Paz’s fingers in your mouth; when you get too loud, he presses down against your tongue, making you choke. When you’re too quiet, he lessens his hold so he can hear you better.

Once you’re spent, ears ringing so loudly the sounds beyond the curtain seem muffled, far away, like you’re listening to them through a thick wall of water, Paz lifts you off his lap and places you on the stool where you slump, unable to keep yourself upright. A noise much closer to you, one that penetrates your exhausted mind, is the sound of Din trying to catch his breath, his shallow pants, his groans as he shifts on the floor in front of you. And finally, you can make out the hum of a vibroblade as Paz cuts him loose.

When Paz takes off your blindfold, he does it gently, careful not to touch you more than necessary. He strokes your cheek, his fingers cool and coarse against your heated skin. You blink a few times, waiting for your vision to become less blurry, and then look up at him hovering above you, taller than usual, his shoulders tense, his stance wide. You know what comes next.

Paz hands you his jug, lets you take a swig from it, then pulls you off that stool and pushes you against the table. You grunt as your chest hits the wood, try to push yourself up, but Paz pushes you back down, one hand sprawled across your back, kicking your legs apart with his foot.

“Hold her down,” he grunts.

When you look up, you see Din stand in front of you, his face already hidden behind his helmet again. The pang of disappointment you feel at that sight is quickly replaced by seething lust as he grabs both your wrists with one hand and holds them down against the wood. Between this and Paz’s hold on your hips, there is no chance of escape for you.

Behind you, the rustle of clothes cuts through the suddenly still atmosphere, laden with expectation. Then you feel Paz’s cock against your backside as he drags himself over your exposed skin before pushing into you with one quick stroke. You scream, nails digging into the wood – he’s so big, so heavy … you’re not sure you can take it. Paz gives you a moment to breathe, strokes down your back to calm you, even whispers, “Shhh,” (a hissing sound through the modulator). But then he pulls out and slams back into you so hard you see stars.

“Please,” you whimper, but he only tightens his hold on your hips.

You try to move but you can’t. Din, who feels you struggle against his hold, circles one of your wrists with his thumb in a soothing motion and you swallow hard as you try to relax. Paz’s palm lands against your bare ass with a slap and you’re being pushed forward, up the table. The sound you make is closer to pleasure than pain now.

“Do it, pretty boy,” Paz grunts between thrusts, and you glance back up at Din, watch as he pulls himself out of his pants, hope you don’t imagine the slight tremor in his hand. Your mouth turns painfully dry at the sight of his cock, completely hard, a dark red on the verge of becoming purple, its tip glistening invitingly. He begins to stroke himself fast, eyes fixed on you as he groans with relief, and you feel his hold on you become less hard.

Escape is now the last thing on your mind. You lick your lips eagerly as you imagine what it would feel like to have Din’s cock press against your tongue, spilling down your throat. And you hope Din has similar thoughts as he stares at you, chest heaving. Paz slaps you again. Then he closes his fingers around the back of your neck, pushing your head down. You push back against him in defiance, but he only slaps you a third time.

“You’re mine,” he growls.

Your fingers scrape against a bit of exposed skin on Din’s wrist.

“Come on, say it,” Paz orders, between three particularly vicious thrusts.

For a brief moment, you consider defying him, but there is something about the whimper you think you hear from Din’s direction that tells you he likes seeing you be used like this.

“I’m yours,” you give in.

“Good girl,” Paz praises. Then you feel a pressure between your cheeks, followed by a burning sensation as he pushes a finger past your muscles, taut with pleasure.

You don’t come, at least you don’t think you do, but you can feel yourself clench around Paz so hard his movements become erratic. Before you feel his hot release spilling into you, you hear Din hiss, “Fuck!” and feel him coat your bare arms, your cheeks, and the table beneath you in thick, white ropes.

While Paz fucks his seed into you with a few final, deep thrusts, you lick Din’s cum from the corner of your mouth, savoring its heady taste. And Din strokes your cheek, softly, like he’s savoring nothing more than this moment.

***

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #din djarin x you x paz vizsla #din djarin x reader x paz vizsla #paz vizsla #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction

215 notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 2 years

Text

The Mandalorian MasterList

**All ratings are individual to each story. Read warnings and tags at the top of the stories.

Requested Scenarios

Hidden Desires Series MasterList

Frozen Series MasterList

Riduurok Series MasterList

Stress Relief

Midnight Excursions

Muffled Sounds

Prey

Just Pleasure

Chemical Feelings - Sex Pollen

Body Heat

Gut Wrenching - Sex Pollen

Secrets - Virgin!Mando

Tradition

The Cave

In The Darkness

Unusual Situation {Mando x F!Reader x Ezra}

The Box - F!Mando!Reader

The View

Bred - Alpha!Mando

Needs

Me’dinuir {Mando x F!Reader x Paz Vizsla}

The Deal {Mando x F!Reader x Cobb Vanth}

The Hot Springs

Close Quarters

Heavy Is The Head That Wears The Beskar

The Face Beneath The Beskar

Kar’ta

Bittersweet Goodbye

The Path (Soulmate AU) (3000 Follower Give Away Fic)

The Throne - King!Din

Cantina Copulation

Le Trio de Fleur - Sex Pollen {Mando x F!Reader x Paz Vizsla}

Aliit

Beskar Bordello

Dreams vs. Reality

Blue Crush - Sex Pollen

Do It Now

The Mand’alor - F!Mando!Reader

Carbonite Cyar’ika {Mando x F!Reader x Poe Dameron}

The Mand’alor’s Riduur - F!Mando!Reader

The Return of the Mandalorian

Dosed - Sex Pollen

Bacta Bonding

Winning Stakes

All Access Card

One Night on Tatooine

Simply Din Djarin

Driven By Power

The Covert Cantina

The Future of Mandalore

Vivid - Sex Pollen

Unexpectedly Mated {Alpha!Mando x F!Omega!Reader}

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tarrensbookmarks · 25 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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sofasoap · 1 year

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The Mandalorian

Story time.– Din Djarin x GN! Reader + Grogu Nightmare – Din Djarin x GN! Reader + Grogu

Heartbreak Series ( Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Heartbreak

Wrenching heart

Mending Heart

Interlude : Fracturing heart

Scarring heart

Healing heart

Ner Kar’ta - Finale to Heartbreak series.

Little Heart - Drabble post- heartbreak

Comfort - Short drabble, Pre- major event in the heartbreak series

Comfort - Extra – extra scene where Din goes to the market.

A quiet moment - Din Djarin - Post 'Little Heart'

Protect - Visiting your home world Naboo, Din becomes very protective.

Sweet - Short drabble Pre-relationship, when clan of three still travelling around in search of Jedi.

Sleep - Short drabble, second part to Sweet.

A guide how not to court Non-Mandalorian (Paz Vizsla x F!Reader)

Pinning

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #grogu #masterlist #paz vizsla #paz vizsla x you #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x f!reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader

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swan-of-sunrise · 11 months

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Taking Care of Business (Chapter Thirty-Six)

Summary: After rescuing the foundling, Din returns to the covert and receives some advice from Bo-Katan, but an unexpected visitor soon shatters the peace his clan had fought so hard to achieve.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I’m excited because we’ve almost reached my favorite scene to write from this season of the show! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-Six The Ranger (Previous Chapter)

“Well, this is certainly the strangest mix of passengers I’ve ever flown in my ship,” Bo-Katan remarked with amusement in her modulated voice as she glanced over her shoulder at the three trussed hatchlings being looked after by several of their fellow Mandalorians. “But I’ll bet this is nothing to a former smuggler like (Y/N), huh?”

Din hummed in response from his seat behind her, staring out the viewport at the scenic landscape while his thoughts were consumed by his discontented wife. Their mission to rescue the foundling from the raptor’s nest had been enough to distract him from his worry over (Y/N)’s mental well-being, but his worry for her was quick to return the moment they reunited young Ragnar with his father Paz. He knew the captain well enough to tell that she was hiding her true feelings about their clan’s acceptance into the covert and although she’d given in without any argument, he knew that she didn’t appreciate being left out of their mission to rescue the foundling. Her happiness means more to me than anyone could ever know but I cannot protect it if I don’t know what’s bothering her, he thought with an inward sigh, his finger tracing along the wedding ring that was hidden beneath his glove.

“Is there something on your mind that you wish to discuss, Din? I’ve been known to be a fairly good listener.”

Din sat forward in his seat and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his gloved hands together and looking down at his worn boots before finally speaking. “I noticed that (Y/N) didn’t seem herself yesterday. Has she mentioned if there’s anything that’s been bothering her or if she’s unhappy?”

Bo-Katan glanced away from the controls to spare him a look. “You don’t know?” When he only stared back at her, she shook her head and sighed. “She’s not unhappy, Din, she’s insecure. For her entire life, she’s always been sure of herself and her abilities; she adapted to her circumstances – being orphaned, growing up as a smuggler, taking up arms against the Empire – and her great capacity to adapt is what helped her survive. Now that she’s found herself living amongst a covert of Mandalorians, she’s finding it difficult to adapt to our lifestyle.”

“I…I had no idea.”

“I wouldn’t beat yourself up about it too much if I were you; (Y/N)’s a proud woman who hides her emotions behind a mask of strength,” The Nite Owl replied with a noncommittal shrug, turning her attention back to her controls with a hint of a smile in her voice. “So, we’re obviously nothing alike.” Din chuckled at that. “She just wants to fit in, Din, and in time she will. You’ve just gotta be patient with her until she finds her place in the covert.”

While they journeyed back to the covert, Din considered Bo-Katan’s wise words and in no time, they were initiating the landing sequence and touching down on the lakeshore just past the cave. Paz and Ragnar walked down the Gauntlet’s gangplank accompanied by the celebratory cheers and the clanging of beskar vambraces, and Din and Bo-Katan followed after them; (Y/N) was standing off to the side of the gathering of Mandalorians with Grogu nestled in her arms, the both of them looking happy that their mission was a success but also a little self-conscious, and the sight of them caused Din to take longer strides to reach them quicker.

“We knew you’d be able to do it!” (Y/N) beamed and passed a squirming Grogu over to Din once he was standing before them. “Didn’t we, Grogu?”

The child happily cooed and snuggled his face against Din’s cowl, making him chuckle and gently pat his back. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, kid.” He cupped (Y/N)’s cheek with his free hand and leaned forward to press his forehead against hers in a Keldabe Kiss. “How were things while I was away?”

“Very insightful, actually.” The captain pulled away far enough to look into the visor of his helmet. “Sweetheart, there’s something I have to talk to you about-”

“I know, alor’ad, and I understand.” Din took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I promise you here and now, I’ll do whatever I can to help you find your way here.”

(Y/N)’s brow furrowed but before she could reply, Paz and Ragnar walked up to them and the older Mandalorian bowed his helmeted head in respect. “Captain (Y/L/N). While he recuperates from his ordeal with the raptor, my son Ragnar wishes to learn the basics of piloting until he can resume his drills. Would you be willing to take him on as a student?”

A smile tugged on the corners of Din’s lips as he watched (Y/N)’s brows raise in surprise and her face brighten with unabashed happiness. “O-Of course, I would be honored to teach him.” Giving Din’s hand a tight squeeze, she focused her attention on the blue-helmeted boy standing beside his father. “If you’re feeling up to it, Ragnar, we can start bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“This is the Way,” Ragnar replied and, just as Paz had, bowed his head in respect before looking up at his father. “Is it dinnertime yet? I haven’t eaten since yesterday!”

Paz huffed out a chuckle. “Of course, son. Come, we’ll fix you something to eat.”

With one last nod, the older Mandalorian led the foundling into the cave and without warning, (Y/N) laughed in delight and threw her arms around Din’s neck. “This is perfect! If everything goes well with Ragnar, I’ll be able to put my piloting skills to good use and teach all the children how to pilot!”

“Ner mirdala alor’ad. My clever captain, always thinking five steps ahead of everyone else.” He wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist and held her close, beyond thankful to the Maker that she’d found a way to feel more secure about herself amongst the rest of their covert. “Just one of the many, many things I love about you.”

(Y/N) arched a brow and bit her lip to keep from grinning as she finally released him. “Well, as much as I’d like to hear the rest, we should probably find something for Grogu to eat before he goes after one of those hatchlings you brought back. And speaking of the little guy, there really is something important I have to tell you about him…”

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

Over the next week, they were beginning to fall into a routine of sorts. (Y/N) would begin the day teaching Ragnar and a small handful of apprentices the basics of piloting while Din worked with Grogu on his drills, and the both of them would spend the evening helping Grogu practice using the Force; the other Mandalorians, seeing how willing the captain was to both teach all she knew about piloting and to learn all she could about their culture, warmed up to her presence and welcomed her into their covert, and they treated Grogu with the same level of respect as any other foundling among their ranks. In their spare time, Din and (Y/N) used their beat-up holopad to research Naboo and Kelleran Beq, the Jedi who rescued the child from the Jedi Temple at the end of the Clone Wars, but to no avail; they couldn’t seem to find any information on why the Jedi was assisted by the Naboo Royal Guard and Grogu seemed reluctant to show them another Force vision, so they decided not to push the issue with him.

Their peaceful bubble that they were slowly becoming accustom to was eventually shattered by the arrival of an X-Wing piloted by a familiar Adelphi Ranger. As word quickly spread throughout the covert, Din and (Y/N) followed the troop of Mandalorians that volunteered to block the officer of the New Republic from stepping foot into the cave, an unsettling feeling beginning to take shape in the pit of Din’s stomach.

“Captain Carson Teva, Adelphi Rangers. I have a time-pressing matter to attend to.”

“Clear out, Blue Boy,” Paz commanded as the other Mandalorians fanned out on either side of him. “The New Republic isn’t welcome here.”

“Sorry for dropping in unannounced, but if I’d given warning, your settlement would’ve cleared out before I ever hit atmosphere.”

Exchanging a wary glance with (Y/N), Din stepped out of the cave and weaved past the blockade of Mandalorians while the captain followed close behind. “How did you manage to find us? Mandalorians pride ourselves on our secrecy.”

Captain Teva, looking the same as he had when he’d saved their lives on Maldo Kreis and nearly arrested them just outside of Tatooine’s atmosphere, gave them both a small smile. “Fortunately, someone I served with in the Rebellion is amongst your ranks.” Din’s brows rose in surprise and he scanned the group of Mandalorians standing behind them, only stopping when he spotted their anxious astromech droid rolling to a stop beside (Y/N) and sighing in exasperation when he greeted the pilot with a series of chirps and whistles; unaffected by Din’s annoyance, Captain Teva saluted R5D4. “Thanks, R5.”

Din placed his hands on his hips and stared down the unflinching officer. “The entire covert will now have to relocate.”

“Or we could kill him,” Paz gruffly offered. “Stay right here.”

Fighting the obvious urge to roll her eyes at the older Mandalorian’s dramatics, (Y/N) shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “Din, need I remind you that Captain Teva here once helped us out of a very sticky situation and is the sole reason why we’re alive right now?”

“Of course, alor’ad, you’re right.” Din glanced over his shoulder at his fellow Mandalorians. “This man cut us a break once, and now I’m returning the favor.” He turned back around to face the officer. “Clear out, Blue.”

Ignoring Din’s order, Captain Teva patted the pocket of his orange flight-suit’s pocket. “Greef Karga sent this holo-message.” (Y/N) stepped forward but when the officer reached into his pocket, the Mandalorians raised their blasters to defend the captain in case of any subterfuge; Captain Teva cautiously withdrew a black puck from his pocket and slowly handed it over to (Y/N) before continuing. “Nevarro is under siege by pirates. He’s asking for help.”

Biting his lip, Din hesitated a moment before joining (Y/N) and quietly asking, “Why are you really here?”

“They’re about to blow Nevarro to hell.”

“Then call in a strike; we don’t even have ships.”

“Coruscant doesn’t care,” Captain Teva pointed out as the three of them walked down the beach towards his X-Wing. “Karga is your friend; you won’t let him die.” He glanced over at (Y/N) and pointed at the Rebel Alliance symbol stitched onto the shoulder of his flight-suit. “And a veteran of the Rebellion won’t just sit back and let innocent civilians get hurt.”

A line formed between (Y/N)’s brows as she silently pondered the officer’s words and Din pursed his lips beneath his helmet, a part of him still wary of his intentions. “What’s in it for you?”

Captain Teva looked between Din and (Y/N) as he lowly replied, “The New Republic has to know that the Empire is growing again.”

“And you think the Pirate King has something to do with it?” The corner of (Y/N)’s mouth was turned downwards into a troubled frown. “Gorian Shard’s a menace, but I can’t see him willingly taking orders from Imps.”

“I can’t say for sure, Captain (Y/L/N), but something doesn’t smell right.” Din and (Y/N) exchanged another look and the officer sighed. “Look, it’s not your fight. I just came to tell you your friend’s in danger and I thought you should know.” Captain Teva climbed into the cockpit of his X-Wing and he slipped his flight helmet on as Bo-Katan strode across the lakeshore towards where they stood. “I know you’ll relocate anyway but you have my word, I will not reveal your location. Sorry to intrude.”

“May the Force be with you, Captain Teva,” (Y/N) called out over the noise of the X-Wing’s engine and the officer saluted her before lowering the windshield and taking to the sky. “I should’ve kriffing known that Gorian Shard would retaliate against Nevarro…”

Din wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her close. “It’s not your fault, alor’ad.”

“So, what’re you guys thinking?” Bo-Katan asked.

Sighing, Din looked down at the black puck clutched tight in his wife’s hand before answering. “He’s right. We’ve gotta help the guy.”

The Nite Owl nodded. “Well, you can’t do it alone. I think it’s time we called a council meeting, don’t you?”

Din watched the X-Wing grow smaller on the horizon, his mind already decided on their next course of action; convincing the Mandalorians who’d once taken up arms against Karga to help him won’t be easy, he thought to himself with an inward sigh, but we owe it to him to try.

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

As Din paced before the bonfire burning in the center of their covert’s council chambers, he felt a surge of gratitude that there were two supportive faces sitting amongst the crowd of gathered Mandalorians. (Y/N) was seated beside Bo-Katan and Grogu was nestled comfortably in her lap, his large eyes bright with curiosity as Din addressed the chamber.

“Now, many of you don’t know Greef Karga and those that do fought against him when you rescued me from his ambush many cycles ago on the streets of Nevarro.” Din’s gloved hand tightened around the Armorer’s forging hammer while the Mandalorians quietly muttered amongst themselves, taking a deep breath and remaining calm for the sake of his argument. “Since then, he’s had a change of heart and has risked his life to save mine as well as my riduur and the foundling in our charge. I stand before you to petition an intervention, to help rescue Nevarro before it’s too late. I am in no position to ask any more of you, however-” More indistinct chattering interrupted Din’s words, but he merely raised the hammer in his hand and spoke over his fellow Mandalorians. “However, the enemy that decimated this very covert were Imperials, not Greef Karga’s bounty hunters. Greef Karga is now a High Magistrate and has offered my riduur and I a tract of land on his independent world.” He smiled beneath his helmet at the look of surprise on (Y/N)’s face; he’d spent so long living with the guilt of not providing the captain with the peaceful life she’d always dreamed of – a stable home and the ability to open her own seamstress shop as her late mother once had on Naboo – but now, that weight was taken off his shoulders as she beamed in happiness at him from across the chamber. “Perhaps it is time for us to live in the light once again on a planet where we are welcome, so our culture may flourish and our children can feel what it is to play in the sunlight.”

There was a tonal shift in the murmurs amongst the gathering of Mandalorians as Din handed the hammer over to the Armorer and took a seat beside (Y/N), lacing his fingers through hers and letting Grogu crawl over to sit on his lap. “Does anyone else wish to speak?” The Armorer looked around the chamber and held out the forging hammer for the next person to take.

“It’s up to them now,” Din quietly remarked.

(Y/N) squeezed his hand but silently watched as Paz stood and crossed the chamber. “I do.” He took the hammer from the Armorer and waited for her to take her seat before addressing his brothers and sisters-in-arms. “I was there on Nevarro that night. I fought against Greef Karga and his hunters. I saw my brothers and sisters fall at the hands of the Imperial butchers that hunted us in the sewers. I saw many die to save the life of this one, tiny foundling.” From his place on Din’s lap, Grogu softly cooed and (Y/N) ran a soothing hand over the top of his wrinkled head. “And now we are asked to sacrifice yet again. The question we should be asking ourselves is, ‘Why? Why should we lay our lives down yet again?’” Paz paused to let his words sink in but as Din braced himself for an argument against intervention, he bellowed, “Because we are Mandalorians!” (Y/N) and Bo-Katan exchanged a look and Din straightened in his seat as the older Mandalorian gestured towards him. “I have had my disagreements with this man, but he risked his life to save my son. Captain (Y/L/N) fearlessly volunteered to join the rescue party, without a single piece of beskar armor or years of combat training to protect herself. And Bo-Katan Kryze did not give up on my child’s life, even when the rest of us did. These three are asking us to take up arms in the name of a brighter future, and I for one will take up arms to fight by their side.” The gathered Mandalorians nodded in agreement and voiced their approval of Paz’s rallying words as he raised the forging hammer high. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” The assembled Mandalorians echoed.

The Armorer nodded. “This is the Way.”

As the Mandalorians talked amongst themselves and filtered out of the chamber, Bo-Katan let out a long sigh. “Well, that was easier than I thought it would be. I’m gonna go and check on the Gauntlet, make sure it’s running smoothly for our mission on Nevarro.”

Patting Grogu on the head, the Nite Owl stood and walked out of the chamber and (Y/N)’s eyes were sparkling with joy as she turned to face him. “Have I told you that I love you today?”

“Once or twice, but I could always use a reminder.” The captain giggled at his reply as he gently pressed his helmeted forehead against hers. “Your culture deserves to live on through you, alor’ad, and you deserve to live the life you’ve always dreamed of. Just as you honor and respect our Way, I honor and respect your people’s traditions and I will do anything to ensure that we can walk both paths together. Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad.”

“And I love you too, my honorable Mandalorian.”

The clan of three sat alone in the council chamber and enjoyed their moment of solitude before leaving to begin planning their new mission, eager to save their friend and the citizens of Nevarro and establish a new home and permanent home for their son and their people.

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Mando’a Translations:

Alor’ad-Captain Ner mirdala alor’ad-My clever captain Riduur-Spouse Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad-I love you, my darling captain

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2KuSKJhVOPPvxdJ9YHeo4M?si=2977ff31bf0c4bdd

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

#taking care of business #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu #the child #baby yoda #captain teva #r5d4 #bo katan kryze #paz vizsla #the armorer #greef karga #gorian shard #vane #star wars #din djarin x f!reader

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intothemurkwood · 9 months

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MIGHT OF MAND'ALOR

AO3 Chapter Link: MIGHT OF MAND’ALOR - Chapter 1 (Prologue)

Chapter Summary: Moff Gideon meets with Bo'Katan Kryze to discuss the terms of Mandalore's surrender.

Word Count: 771 (fairly light, but it is the prologue)

Might of Mand'alor Series on AO3

Warning: Threats of genocides, violence, all things Moff Gideon. A fairly vanilla chapter with all things considered.

Author Note: For the sake of this fic, Pre Vizsla was Paz Vizsla's father... I'm sorry, I was 41k words deep before I realized the screw up.

Tag List: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

==EXPLICIT CONTENT: 18+ ONLY==

CHAPTER 1 (PROLOGUE)

Mandalore - The Great Forge

In the smoldering ruins surrounding the Great Forge of Mandalore, Moff Gideon, a formidable figure clad in black armor, stands with an air of authority at the far end of the high vaulted chamber. Bo'Katan Kryze, the Mand’alor, enters the room, her helmet tucked under her arm. Tension fills the air as their paths converge.

Gideon's lips curl into a sly smirk as he addresses Kryze, “Bo'Katan Kryze, the self-proclaimed leader of Mandalore. How delightful to finally meet you.” He relishes in her worn appearance.

Kryze holds her head high, refusing to let Gideon's presence intimidate her. “Moff Gideon. Have you come to surrender?” She asks, her voice hollow and light. All of Mandalore was burning under their siege. There was nothing left for the Empire to surrender to.

Gideon clasps his hands together, his gaze fixed upon Kryze. “I've come to discuss the terms of your surrender, Kryze. A chance for Mandalore to avoid further bloodshed. Surrender to the Empire, disarm your forces, and all Mandalorians, as well as your cities, will be spared,” his words a venomous offer. For a Mandalorian to disarm would go against everything they stand for.

Kryze's eyes narrow, her brows furrowing with determination. She understands the gravity of Gideon's words, but the cost weighs heavily upon her honor. “Spare our lives? Submitting to the Empire would bring shame upon our people.”

Gideon's smirk widens, “Survival often requires difficult choices, Kryze. Sacrifices must be made. And you, as a leader, have the power to make that choice. Your defiance will only lead to more destruction.”

Kryze pauses, her mind wrestling with the weight of her decision. In a moment that holds the fate of her people in balance, she finally relents, placing the Darksaber—a symbol of Mandalorian strength—in his hand. The act of surrender, though heavy with shame, bears the hope of sparing her people from further suffering.

A triumphant glint flashes in Gideon's eyes as he claims the Darksaber. “Wise decision. Mandalore will be spared... for now.” Gideon's haunting words echo around her as Kryze comes to a stop just short of the door. “There is one more thing.”

She turns to look at the menace washed in the cool glow of the darksaber. He swings the blade gently at first, testing its balance. Kryze turns to watch as the darksaber whirrs, slicing through the air with a heavy drag.

“What more?” Kryze asks, watching as the gifted blade grows heavier in his hand.

“I seek the force-sensitive Mandalorian. Bring them to me, alive and unharmed, or the Purge of Mandalore shall persist.”

Kryze's gaze flickers with disbelief, her mind struggling to reconcile Gideon's claim with her knowledge of her fellow Mandalorians. She moves toward him, her steps more confident than they had been in days. “There is no force-sensitive Mandalorian among us. Tarre Vizsla is no more.”

A sardonic smile plays at the corner of Moff Gideon's lips, “Oh, dear Bo-Katan, you underestimate how deeply I have infiltrated your forces. Bring me Pre Vizsla's daughter,’ he growls.

Bo-Katan's brow furrows, her mind racing to reconcile your image, a steadfast warrior she had known for years, with the concept of you being force-sensitive. "No, that cannot be true. I have fought alongside her, stood shoulder to shoulder with her, and never witnessed her harnessing the Force,” she argues, her voice filled with a mix of doubt and confusion.

As the echoes of their conversation reverberated within the Great Forge, silence settles upon the chamber, allowing space for contemplation. Gradually, Kryze's memories began to align, shattered fragments weaving together, unveiling a hidden truth about you that had eluded her for so long.

Moff Gideon swings the Darksaber, relishing in the power that he wields. “The Force has a way of concealing itself, even from the most discerning eyes. The more you reflect, the more you shall come to accept the truth. It wouldn’t surprise me if she wiped your mind on more than one occasion,” he says, his words dripping with sinister malice.

Determined and unyielding, Bo-Katan solidifies her resolve, “I do not know where she is. As I am sure you know Mandalorians are divided, fractured. If you choose to go back on your word, so be it," she raises her head, holding his gaze.

Moff Gideon's eyes narrow, slicing through her lies. His patience has worn out. “I offered you a deal, and you agreed to disarm, now you have gone back on your word by refusing to hand over Pre Vizsla's daughter. You have one hour to turn her over or I will lay waste to this planet and all your people.”

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #might of mand'alor #reader as Paz Vizsla's sister #mandalorian fic #din djarin fics

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imarvelatthestars · 1 year

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Gaanla: I

Pairings: eventual Armorer x f!Reader

Series Warnings: some religious themes (talk of conversion, vague parallels & references to Judaism), slow burn, mutual pining, eventual fxf smut

Notes: I got stuck thinking about the Jewish inspiration behind Din's covert, about the Armorer & how she's kind of a space rabbi, and then I thought about a Fleabag esque story with a happy ending and now we're here.

[next part]

"It is a rare thing indeed for an outsider like yourself to be so drawn to the Way."

The fire crackles as a few stray embers jump into the air. It's a polite way of asking a more direct question and you know it, but you're not sure if she means to judge you or not. It's hard to read just the helmet.

"Yeah," you nod. "Din said something like that."

Her helm shifts in your direction and the gold shimmers copper in the firelight, just for a moment. The visor catches and reflects a warped version of a distant galaxy as she watches you and it's strange, really, but you swear she's looking you in the eyes. You have no real way of knowing. Still, you sense you're right.

A few of the other Mandalorians pass by then and you don't miss the way their helmets stray your way. Not that you blame them. You stick out like a sore thumb here - no armor, bare face, all wide and curious eyes, you couldn't be more obvious if you tried. But Maker, you can't help this thing inside you that draws you to the Mandalorians, that calls out to your curiosity and your heart like a beacon in the midst of a storm.

"Din Djarin has spoken highly of you," she continues as she prods the fire.

Has he? Your face flushes a bit. "That's very... He didn't... he didn't have to do that."

"He says you have cared for his foundling on more than one occasion." You're still trying to find the right words when the Armorer leans back in her seat and settles again. "Foundlings are greatly valued in our culture. To care for a foundling is to care for the future of all of Mandalore."

You've only known her for a few hours, but you get the feeling this is her way of saying 'thank you'. It's a knowing you can't quite explain.

So you gaze into the fire, elbows on your knees, and bow your head just slightly. You think back to all the late, sleepless nights and hazy mornings you've spent with Din's kid. The days he was gone chasing bounties too deadly to have around a child, the evening he came stumbling into your flat, bleeding out and barely conscious. And you think about where you are now, this tiny piece of Nevarro that's been gifted to his covert for their help fighting back the Imps, and your heart suddenly feels warm.

"I'm happy to help. And... I'm honored Din trusts me."

The Armorer seems to hum somewhere beneath all her armor as she stands and takes the light of the fire with her. She looks otherworldly like this, tall and noble and bright as a star against the night sky. The helmet bobs once, accompanied only by, "This is the Way."

It's mid-day when you return to the covert. The Mandalorians are scattered about the land, sparring, cleaning their weapons, sprawled out beneath their one ship, a few working on setting up more tents and temporary structures.

A broad, towering shadow passes over you the moment you cross the boundary line. You have to tilt your head all the way back to get a proper look at Paz Vizsla and you truly can't help the dread that settles in your stomach when his helmet drops and the massive blaster cannon adjusts in his arms. There's a horrible moment where your heartbeats seem to stretch out beyond infinity and Paz looms above you, and you think he's going to turn you away. Maybe he considers it. But in the end, he simply looks you up and down and turns his shoulder to let you pass.

He goes so far as to escort you further into the camp, although you're not entirely sure where you're going. You hadn't thought that far ahead when you were getting ready this morning, you only wanted to see Din and the kid, and offer whatever assistance you can. Now that you're here, though, you feel out of your depth. Like last night, when Din took his boy to bed and you stayed behind at his fire. When you sat amongst a tribe of strangers and knew you didn't belong, but felt something inside you calling you to stay.

It's not to Din's ship that Paz leads you, though. It's a tent and a half-walled structure, littered with bits of armor and metalworking tools you couldn't name if you tried. Inside the structure is the Armorer, hard at work at a small cryo-furnace. She doesn't address you or Paz, so you're not entirely sure she's aware you're there. She's pounding the crap out of a beskar piece and sparks are flying all around like they had last night at the fire.

Several minutes later, the pounding stops and the sparks settle, and the Armorer turns to douse her beskar piece in water. Her helmet doesn't drift from her task, but she does speak this time.

"Thank you, Paz."

He grunts and nods his acknowledgement before leaving.

"Din Djarin has gone to see the High Magistrate. He has taken the foundling with him."

Oh. Perhaps you should have asked if it was appropriate to return before simply doing it?

"I'm sorry if I overstepped," you start. Your hands are twitching nervously at your sides, fidgeting with your clothes, tapping, whatever they can to ease the tension settling in your chest. "I wanted to offer Din and the covert my help. If that's allowed?"

The beskar piece has finished steaming by now and is placed aside, the tongs and hammer joining soon after, and the Armorer finally lifts her helm to acknowledge you properly. She smooths her palms over her skirt.

"We do not often allow outsiders within the covert."

And your heart sinks because you suspected this was the case, even though you hoped it wasn't. You knew Din kept you at arm's length, even though he considered you a friend. You knew that the Mandalorians had lost everything in the Purge, that they were slow to trust those beyond their culture and for good reason. But you had thought yourself... different, hoped they would see your honesty and virtue and allow you to be the one acception. It was selfish, really.

The golden crest of her helmet tilts ever so slightly, almost imperceptible if not for the shift of the light on one of her horns. "Walk with me."

She is slow and steady, purposeful with every movement and word and tilt of her head. There is an air about her that escapes description, but holds within it some kind power - the power of a leader and sage, a kind of nobility and self-assurance, a patience you do not see in many of the other Mandalorians, not to the same extent.

A cloud passes under the sun and casts a shadow across the camp. One of the foundlings goes sprinting past as another follows close behind. Paz Vizsla's helmet follows you. You feel your pulse quicken. You've never felt so out of place in your life, yet still. Still, you cannot bring yourself to leave, even without Din here to guide you, even with the Armorer's words rattling around in your skull and reminding you that this place and these people are not for you.

"Tell me, what brings you here?"

Your entire face drops into a frown. "I don't understand."

She gestures to the camp. "Our covert. You are the only aruetii who has ventured here. Not even the High Magistrate has chosen to come in person."

Aruetii. Outsider. Non-Mandalorian. She had called you that last night, but the meaning hits you like a punch to the gut when spoken in Mando'a. It weighs more in her tongue than it does in Basic.

Your head dips down to your chest. Suddenly the dirt seems so much more interesting than your companion. "I don't know," you sigh. "I guess I'm curious? Is that bad?"

"Not if it is genuine."

"It is. I am." The glint of sunlight at her temples catches your eye, dazzles you for a moment as you try to find the right words to express all the intricate little feelings bubbling up inside you. "Din is an honorable man, even though he's a bounty hunter. I've seen the way he takes care of Grogu, heard him talk about the Way and the covert. It means so much to him. And I guess I've always thought that there must be something very beautiful about Mandalore and its people if it produced someone like him."

The Armorer doesn't speak for an eternity. You can feel her eyes on you, settling on your skin, searching for something you can only guess at. Her shoulders twitch when she huffs a deep breath, but only slightly.

"What do you know of the Way?" She seems genuinely curious, which you choose to take as a good sign.

You think back to all the snippets of conversation you've shared with Din and the late night research sessions you've spent pouring over holo articles, vid essays and lectures, recorded interviews with former foundlings all trying to better understand this mysterious, beautiful culture you've only ever seen in the galactic background. How these people have fascinated you since the first moment you saw Din's beskar shining in Karga's cantina all those years ago.

"I know honor is important to you. Family. Rearing foundlings and protecting them. Keeping the Way, although that seems to vary among Mandalorians. I know your covert covers their faces."

"Do you know why?"

Not entirely. "I know it's a tradition that's very ancient and very sacred, but I don't fully understand it." You can't help smiling. "Although I think it's beautiful. Different, but still beautiful."

The Armorer nods deeply. "You understand more than most." You get the feeling she's impressed. "We would be grateful for your help. Come, we will find you a place."

#the armorer x reader #the armorer #the mandalorian #star wars #jewish coded mandalorians #for snisha

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ladyxskywalker · 2 years

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JULY 2022 (part one)

fandoms featured on this list; star wars, kenobi, the mandalorian, rogue one, & triple frontier 💫

thank you to the amazing fic writers for sharing some wonderful stories with all of us ! & to the kind readers for their support. 💙

please assume that all works & the blogs they belong to are 18+ only

mature adult content will be marked with a double asterisk **

be sure to check all warnings & tags before reading, feel free to skip if something isn't for you

& of course, enjoy responsibly

all the love xo A ☕

✨️ apologies for this month’s list being a little shorter than usual ! I had some things going on, so some of these are comfort reads, & repeats that I’ve read again, new things I’ve read, or various series that I’ve started. hope you enjoy ! & happy reading ! 🤗

please send me things to read ! favorite fics or something you've written that you're proud of ! 💌

find more monthly fic recs over on my masterlist, Aug 2022 coming soon ! ✨

please let me know if you would like to be removed

✨ new authors & characters added for the first time !

STAR WARS

✨ some authors are mentioned more than once throughout the list, check to see if your works are there !

✨ Anakin Skywalker

Stars, Hide Your Fires by @dearviper ao3 (sith!reader) (cw: major character death, mace windu)

Stay In My Memories (series) by @blxckmccn on ao3 (kenobi series) (inquisitor!f!reader) (canon divergence, lost memories, love triangle) (obi wan, anakin skywalker | darth vader) **

Stolen Moments by @full-time-make-believer, FullTimeMakeBeliever on ao3 (f!reader)

✨ Armitage Hux

Between the Wars by @mylifeisactuallyamess (f!reader, or gn!reader)

The Crystalline Knowledge of You (series) by @Irma7x on ao3 (practical magic au) (armitage hux, kylo ren) (f!reader) **

Prompts – Hux has baby fever by @mylifeisactuallyamess (cw: children, babies) (f!reader)

✨ Boba Fett

Arise, Ascend (series) by @zinzinina (f!reader) **

✨ Din Djarin

Brown Eyes (series) by @mandelirious (coffee shop au) (modern au)

Distracted by @ghostwiththemostbitch (sex pollen, consensual) (f!reader) **

Grogu’s Teacher (series) by @firstofficerwiggles (mand’alor!din) (f!reader)

Like A Moth to the Flame by @the-scandalorian (monster!dark!din) (dark beauty & the beast au) (f!reader) **

Skydalorian (series) (three works) by @celestial-alignment @Celestial_Alignment on ao3 (din x luke) **

The Mand’alor and the Jedi (series) (four works) by @theunacknowledged on ao3 (general)

You got me flowers? by @writingforcurrentobsessions

Prompts – ‘you deserve better than what you've got’ & ‘you're not at war anymore you could come home’ by @forever-rogue (f!reader)

✨ Kylo Ren

Mornings by @starsandroots (sir ren universe) (supreme leader!kylo) (wife!f!reader) **

Sparks and Embers (series) by @paper-n-ashes, paper_in_ashes on ao3 (kylo ren x ofc, poe dameron x ofc) **

✨ Obi Wan Kenobi

Daybreak by @zinzinina (cw: semi public sex) (tpm!obi) (f!reader) **

Dust to Dust, ii by @avarkriss (f!reader) **

The Language of Flowers (series) by @huffle-pissed (medieval au) (knight!obi)

Like Turning on the Light by @full-time-make-believer (f!reader) **

Made in the A.M. (series) by @strwrs @kittfisto on ao3 (gn!reader)

The Morning After by @scribble-dribble-writes

The River by @kittfisto on ao3 (gn!reader) **

Skin & Bones, ii by @hellotherekenobi **

Soft Family Fluff, ii, & iii by @forever-rogue (dad!obi wan) (wifef!reader) (cw:children)

✨ Padme Amidala

Stay In My Memories (series) by @blxckmccn on ao3 (kenobi series) (inquisitor!f!reader) (canon divergence, lost memories, love triangle) (obi wan, anakin skywalker, darth vader) **

[link under anakin skywalker ^^]

Prompts – Padme is feeling overwhelmed by taking care of the twins, Obi Wan is there for her by @labyrinth-runner (obidala)

✨ Paz Vizsla

Soulmate Prompts – your soulmate’s name appears as a tattoo by @ohheyitsokay (f!reader) **

✨ Poe Dameron

Back by @roanniom **

How We Fall by @uwingdispatch (gn!reader) **

It’s Always Belonged to You by @im-poe-dameron (f!reader) **

Quiet by @the-little-ewok (f!reader) **

Ten, Eleven, Twelve by @foxilayde (f!reader) **

Prompt – ‘I have the feeling that you’re trying not to kiss me and I give you permission to just do it.’ by @disabledameron (gn!reader)

ROGUE ONE

✨ Cassian Andor

A Story of A Princess by @storiesmadeofstars on ao3 (cassian andor x leia organa) (cw: children)

Departures by @storiesmadeofstars on ao3 (cassian andor x leia organa) (pre-rogue one)

Enemies to Lovers Prompt, ‘What do you want?!’ ‘You!’ by @autumnleaves1991-blog (f!reader) **

Steam, Domestic Intimacy Prompt, by @poeticandors

Tell the Galaxy A Tale by @storiesmadeofstars on ao3 (cassian andor & leia organa)

There Will Be A Time by @storiesmadeofstars on ao3 (cassian andor x leia organa) (canon divergence, post rogue one)

Unfaltering by @uwingdispatch (cw: chronic illness, pain, ptsd, implied sexual intimacy) (gn!reader) **

TRIPLE FRONTIER

✨ Benny Miller

Sunshine State (series) by @brewsterispunkk (f!reader) **

Words Unsaid, & Help From An Old Friend by @autumnleaves1991-blog (f!reader)

✨ Frankie Morales

Back on Your Feet (Fries & Peaches) by @the-blind-assassin-12 (f!reader)

The Flamingo & The Fish by @the-blind-assassin-12 (writer’s iron chef)

Frankie…Frankie from Across the Street by @icanbeyourjedi (f!reader) (cw: ptsd, fireworks, drinking, food) **

Paper Planes, ii by @hopeamarsu (soulmate au) (f!reader) **

Prompt – ‘I know you probably hate me right now, I get it.’ by @forever-rogue (f!reader)

✨ Santiago Garcia

Prompts – ‘I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss you’ by @dailyreverie (cw: alcohol)

✨ Will Miller

Wisteria & Moonlight (series) by @artemiseamoon (werewolf au, priestess!ofc) (original characters) **

** be sure to check out part two for moon knight, pedro pascal characters, & more multi fandom recs 📖

#star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #rogue one fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pxk monthly fic recs 💫#pxk monthly reading list 💌

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corazondebeskar-reads · 7 months

Text

Kinktober 2023 - Day 7 (Din Djarin & Paz Vizsla)

For Manda'yaim

Din Djarin x f!reader, Paz Vizsla x f!reader, other unnamed COTW Mandalorians x f!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Now that they have reclaimed their homeworld, the Children of the Watch resurrect an ancient ritual to secure the future of their people. Reader is one of the volunteers chosen to bear the next generation of Mando'ade.

Warnings: Dub-con, CNC, Reader is consenting but unable to withdraw consent, Bondage, Gangbang, Drugged sex, Unconscious sex, Anonymous sex, Children of the Watch are a cult, cult behavior, ritual sex, breeding, breeding rituals, creampies, unrealistic amounts of cum, vaginal plugging, p in v, gratuitous use of Mando'a, religious imagery, no y/n

Inspired by @absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 prompt list

also on ao3

The chamber is cold. It is deep in the belly of the mines, and not even the fire in the hearth can warm the small waiting area. Your beskar’gam, save for your helmet, is tucked away in the wardrobe, and you’ve donned the gauzy black shift left folded neatly on the shelf. Now, all you can do is wait.

You don’t have to wait long. The door to the main room slides open. The Armorer stands in the doorway, intimidating as ever, though you do not fear your alor. She says nothing, but you follow her out into the ceremonial chamber.

It’s domed, completely crafted of smooth, dark stone. She brings you to stand on the bridge before the chamber’s enormous entrance. The bridge rises from the hall outside but is seamless where it turns to obsidian. Even the stone dais in the center looks like the room was carved around it.

Stripped away to reveal the greater purpose beneath.

The bridge leads into the water rather than over. The slow flow of the stream encircles the center platform, but to cross, one must enter the shallow pool at the foot of the path.

The Armorer stands at the edge of the water. Your heart is pounding so loud you think you can hear it echo in the chamber.

“Do you wish to proceed?” she asks, lilting voice as commanding and regal as you remember.

“I do.” You hope your faith rings solid beneath the waver of your voice.

If she doubts you, she does not show it.

“Very well. Do you willingly offer your vessel to the Ka’ra, to accept the manda within you, for Manda’yaim?”

Will you let the kings of old grant you the very essence of your people for the good of Mandalore? Of course. “Oya manda.”

“Oya manda,” she agrees, something warm seeping from under her cold, unmoving composition. “Step forward.”

You do, bare feet brushing softly against stone, until you are within reach. Her hands find the lip of your helmet and unlatch the seal, lifting its heft from your neck. Frigid air creeps up, but you shiver more from being exposed than the cold.

She holds your helmet in one arm and steps back into the water. You follow, surprised to find it generously warm. As you settle on your knees, the water lapping up to your waist serves as a balm to your nerves.

You take the curved pot from her other hand when offered and drink of the hot tea within before sinking it below the stream at your knees. The water rushes into it, desperate to fill the gap it left behind. When you raise it, the excess flows over your fingers.

The drink has settled in your core, warmth flooding your veins. You will leave the fears behind there, to be swept from the chamber on the ebb and flow.

The Armorer takes it and holds it aloft. “None shall see your face but I, and when you leave these waters, you will be granted cin vhetin.”

She tilts the pot, warm water rushing down your face.

“Vor entye,” you pledge as the last rivulets drip down, looking at the Armorer through sodden lashes.

“You owe no debt,” she corrects. “It is the reward for your sacrifice. Rise.”

You stand and follow her onto the platform. A thick pad is laid atop the tall stone table. You shed the robe and take comfort in that she sees your bareness as devotion and not transgression.

The haze of the tincture that laced the tea nestles around you. Like when your buir used to carry you to bed after long days of training, when you didn’t last through the songs around the fire past twilight. You climb onto the table, and your body is pliant as she secures it into place.

The thick straps are for your safety, not imprisonment. They keep you tethered to the table and to Manda’yaim while your soul drifts between realms. You pray the Ka’ra won’t find you lacking.

You are secured on your knees, spread wide, and your arms forward in supplication. Your head is held bowed, and the veil is secured to the restraint.

The expanse of the galaxy is settling in around you. You don’t fight it when your vision fades.

There are two men in the room. Two of your vod. They wear no helmets and will be cleansed in the pools before returning to the surface. But no barriers can be permitted between you, and the chamber is sacred.

They don’t look at one another out of respect. They will come and go in pairs, taking turns to feed your womb and ensure your safety.

The Mand’alor is the first to give sacrament at your altar. When the doors are shut, he lifts his helm and anoints himself from the sleek pot. Behind him, Paz remains concealed. He will not shed his helmet until it is his turn, and so he will remain on the bridge to stand guard.

As Din crosses the waters, he pauses to take in your prone form. The swell of your ass in the air, the arch of your spine. The sweet, tender core of you, softly parted for him. He reaches up to run his fingers through your folds. There’s a light dew, there, but you are not ready.

“Don’t tell me this is your first, vod’ika,” Paz calls.

Din disregards the taunt, stroking through your lips until he finds the gem at your apex. With one hand gently rubbing your cheek, he spreads you open a little more and tastes.

“I don’t think that’s generally part of the process,” Paz notes.

“Shut up, vod,” Din sighs. “Should we not be grateful and ease the passage? Besides, she’s sweet. You’ll miss out.”

“I’ll have my turn,” Paz says gruffly.

“Ah, but only after she tastes of me.” Din grins smugly when Paz groans.

“Get on with it. I want to spend as little time with your naked shebs as possible.”

Din returns his lips to your cunt. He could admit he was being a little selfish, but he truly did want to shoulder some of your burden. Couldn’t leave his martyr to suffer. You or the others who had volunteered to bear the future of their planet.

When he’s certain you can take him without difficulty, he withdraws his mouth and fingers, though savoring the way you linger on his tongue.

When he sinks into you, the pleasure he had coaxed from your body eases his way. You accept him, welcome his offering, and he can’t help but devote his attentions to your pliant flesh. Soft moans slip through your peaceful exhalations. Your warm cunt clenches around him, your hips gently rocking back to meet him. You serve your Mand’alor even in sleep, and he bathes you in praise.

You’re submerged. You swim in the Living Waters, and breathe it in as easy as the air. The voices on the surface are low and rumbling, and you drift lower, free to explore, knowing your vod are on the shore. They won’t let you drown. The water is so dark, but when light breaks through, the beskar veins beneath you are all alight.

There is pressure all around you, like a cradle. And you are so, so full. You think maybe the Waters will keep you, consume you. The current fills you, and you let it sink you down, down, down.

Back in the pool at the foot of the dais, Din cleanses his cock of you, but not his soul.

He slides the helmet back over his head and gives a nod to Paz. “For Manda’yaim.”

“For Manda’yaim,” Paz dips his head to Din. When the Mand’alor turns to respect his vod’s wishes, he removes the helmet.

They are both grave now. Bare, but more encumbered than while clad in full beskar'gam. All teasing and taunting has been swept away in the meandering stream.

Not to be outdone by Din, Paz also brings you to your peak with his lips and tongue against your clit. He doesn’t dare lick into you, not out of an aversion to his vod’s taste, but to preserve as much of the Mand’alor’s seed in you as possible.

Paz is broader than his vod’ika in all ways. He expects to find some resistance when he enters you, but the tightness and heat almost make him spill early. That wouldn’t do, not when he would have to hear about it for all of eternity.

He’s brash and impulsive but never uncaring, so his fingers seek your clit as Din’s had. But as he finds a steady rhythm, an unbidden sadness blossoms in his chest.

He’s fairly certain he knows who you are, though he shouldn’t dwell on it. And though he holds no anger to the rest of his vod who will make their tributes to you today, he does wish you’d told him. Or Djarin.

They could have had you, just the two of them, if that’s what you wanted. And who better to gift you a life than the Mand’alor and his General?

Despite the undercurrent of regret, he feels proud. Proud that his vod’ika would give herself to the tribe, would sing the oldest song of their people, and receive nothing less than pure manda in reward. And the image of you, belly round beyond your beskar, sends him over the edge, fingers digging into your hips as he fills you.

It’s long after the sun has set when the Armorer and the Mand’alor return to the chamber. It matters not, as no light can reach you in the depths under the sacred city. This time, when Din approaches the dais, he is fully armored, helmet in place. He takes a box from the Armorer and opens it to reveal the sizeable, solid beskar plug and lifts it from the silky cushion.

You’re overflowing, your body simply unable to contain the twenty or so loads you were offered, their consecrations dripping obscenely from your red, swollen cunt. You jerk against the bonds and moan, half pleasure and half agony, when he parts your lips with one hand—the only part of him left bare.

The plug finds no resistance, but it does displace some of the cum, oozing down your leg. No matter, Din thinks. Most of it remains, and he’s certain he will not have been spilled, not with his seed at the deepest of your core. When the plug is in place, he uses the pot to cleanse you, to bring you back to the surface.

When you begin to stir, he leaves.

Mando'a translations (in order of appearance): Manda'yaim - the planet Mandalore Beskar'gam - Beskar armor alor - leader Ka'ra - the stars/ancient Kings from Mandalorian mythology Manda - the collective Mandalorian soul Oya manda - a Mandalorian saying showing eternal solidarity cin vhetin - a blank slate (here used to indicate that the removal of the helmet is forgiven for this ritual) Vor entye - formal "thank you" carrying a debt of gratitude buir - parent Vod - brothers/sisters (in arms/loyalty, not literal) Mand'alor - the ruler of the Mandalorians Vod'ika - little brother Shebs - ass (Source: mandoa.org)

#din djarin x reader #paz vizsla x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fic #dead dove do not eat #kinktober 2023 #corazondebeskar reads and writes #the mandalorian smut #this is a different style than my others #we will return to your regularly scheduled debauchery tomorrow

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adancedivasmom · 2 years

Text

Kinktober 2022 - Day 3: Threesome

Din Djarin x F!Reader x Paz Vizsla

Rated M

Warnings: Three-way, double penetration, you're the middle of a Mandalorian sandwich

A/N: I am not a writer. But I wanted to participate in Kinktober this year and this was the only thing I could think of doing. My blog and all of my hai(kink)ku are for those 18+ years of age and older. Minors: you are not welcome here. Thank you to @absurdthirst for sharing your amazing prompt list. My apologies in advance for butchering this lovely ancient art form.

Din and Paz fill you

Their praise whispered in your ear

You're their sweet cocksleeve

#kinktober 2022 #din djarin smut #paz vizsla smut #din djarin x reader x paz vizsla #my ultimate fantasy

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tailorvizsla · 3 years

Note

If you're still doing thirsty thot prompts or asks. I've been wondering how Din or Paz or perhaps both would be as horny baby daddies? Like how would they act when you are really pregnant?

Title: Stuffed Pairings: f!Reader x Din Djarin, f!Reader x Paz Vizsla, Paz Vizsla x f!Reader x Din Djarin Wordcount: 8k+ 🙃🙃🙃 Rating: NC-17 (duh)

⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️ Read the warnings! ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

Warnings: Borderline CNC (consensual non-consent – Paz, Din, and Reader are all pretending that Reader doesn’t want to get pregnant), rough enough to need a safe word, PWP (plot what plot), threesome, lots of unprotected sex, gratuitous self-indulgence of a cum kink, degradation (Reader called a slut for cock/cum), breeding fetish (Reader legit wants to be bred), use of a sex toy, Reader gets called ‘kitten’, cockwarming, oral (m & f receiving), the helmets come off, exhibitionism/public(ish) sex. I’m pretty sure I’ve missed a few, but these are the most important ones.

⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️ Read the warnings! ⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️

Author’s Note: I know what you were intending with your ask, but I’m totally going to be a thirsty bitch. 😉 This is focusing mainly on the baby making steps. This is also purely self-indulgent smut because I would love for these two to take turns with me for a few days and knock me tf up.

Thank you for the title, my darling Izzy!!!

For more dirtiness, please see:

📚 My Master List 📚

“You’re both too old for that,” you announce to Paz and Din, watching as their heads snap up.

“What?” Din asks as you silently laugh to yourself.

“You said you wanted to make a baby,” you respond. “At your age, you probably need those herbal teas. And don’t get me started on you, Paz. You’re ancient. Can you even keep it hard?”

“Don’t you run your mouth,” Paz warns quietly.

A low tendril of heat starts to curl low in your belly as you hear the warning in his voice. Shut your mouth, or I will prove you wrong. You lean back on your hands, tilting your head as the two men watch you from the other side of the cargo bay.

“I’m not,” you respond. “I’m just telling the truth. Us young tradespeople need competent warriors to raise the next generation with. You two are past your prime.”

“Kitten,” Din warns, a low growl in his voice.

You smile to yourself under your helmet. These two have just reached their prime as hunters. They know it, and they know you know it. Din and Paz exchange a silent glance between themselves. Lifting one hand, you plant it on your lower belly, watching as Paz’s head tilts downward, pointedly watching you slide your hand up and down, as if caressing a baby bump. If there is one thing that never fails to get a Mandalorian’s attention, it is a pregnant belly.

“If I am going to go through nine months of pregnancy, it wouldn’t be for two ancient fuckers like you two,” you say casually. “I’ll be fertile soon, so I need to be very picky about who I sleep with. I’m thinking maybe Dezha? Mathias?”

When Paz growls, you grin. Dezha is older than him, and Mathias is pretty close to Din’s age. You swing your legs back and forth casually, tilting your helmet slightly in what you hope they interpret as flirtation.

“Do you have any opinions, Din?”

Din comes forward a step, tension radiating through every part of his body.

“I might have an idea,” he says, as Paz starts to circle around you.

You slide your hand down toward your crotch as you spread your knees for Din. His next step falters ever so slightly.

“You know a warrior who can breed a woman properly?” you ask in mock surprise as he comes closer, almost hesitating.

“Do you actually want a kid?” Din asks flatly. He’s so hard you can see the outline of his cock through his trousers.

“I’ll be ovulating this week,” you say, sliding off the table and onto your feet.

Paz and Din exchange a look before turning their attention to you.

“I just need to find a warrior worthy of my time,” you say with a grin. “Certainly not either of you two ancient bastards.”

With those words, you dart for the open doorway, and laugh as you hear Paz curse. Heavy footsteps follow you as you bolt toward the cover of the trees. Unfortunately, you seem to have forgotten that both warriors have jetpacks, and you do not. Din lands a few meters in front of you, cutting you off from escape. In that moment of distraction, Paz catches up to you and grabs you. Firmly, he turns you around to face him, the fingers of one hand looped around your belt and the others under your chin. He tilts your face up to his.

“Kitten, I am not playing games with you,” he growls darkly, sending a low throb of pleasure shooting deep in your belly. “If you keep mouthing off, you’re going to end up pregnant.”

“There’s no way you could ever knock me up,” you say to Paz. “At your age, you’re shooting dust, aren’t you?”

“I’m not joking,” Paz says flatly, fingers tightening in warning.

“Neither am I,” you tell him. “I’m ready for a baby, and I want the two of you to take turns with me.”

“Did you hear that, Din?” Paz asks.

“Sure did,” Din says.

“Tell me what you’ve been fantasizing about, kitten,” Paz murmurs, loosening his grip around your chin.

Swallowing, you work up the courage to tell the two men exactly what you want from them.

“I’ve been masturbating for months now, thinking about the two of you,” you say shyly. “Taking turns using my body like you’re paying me for it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come around my fingers to the thoughts of you two fucking me while I struggle, while I beg you to not finish in me.”

You aren’t quite sure what Din or Paz are into, so degradation and playing around with unwanted impregnation might be out of what they are willing to give. Shit. You are on the verge of apologizing when Din speaks up.

“Kitten,” he breathes. “You have such a vivid imagination.”

“I genuinely want to be bred,” you whisper meekly, looking down as you suddenly lose your courage. “But I want to be taken. I don’t want you to ask.”

Paz tilts your face up toward his, fingers as light as feathers on your chin.

“I’d be happy to put a baby in you,” Paz says. “But let me make one thing clear – I’m not going to hurt you. I have never enjoyed hurting my partners and I never will. If that’s what you’re after, I can’t help you.”

“Nor will I,” Din adds, hands settling at your waist.

“No pain,” you say softly. “Just…rough enough to need a safe word to stop, instead of a no.”

Paz nods slowly.

“That I can agree to,” Paz says, nodding slowly. “Safe word?”

“Behot,” you blurt out the first thing on your mind.

“Behot is the safe word,” Din confirms.

Paz turns you around and shoves you against Din. You let out a squeak of protest as one massive hand encloses both your wrists, Paz’s massive forearm resting lightly on your breasts as he restrains you. He ducks his head down, pressing his helmet against your shoulder.

“You’re going to regret running your mouth, kitten,” he growls.

You struggle against Paz’s firm grip as Din advances, undoing his belt. The sound of leather zipping through his belt buckle makes your knees weak.

“No, not a snowball’s chance on Tatooine,” you snap, kicking at Din’s ankle.

“Normally, I’d just throw you into the sparring rings and smack you around until you shut up,” Din says. “But you…you’re young, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, what about it?” you ask. “What, you afraid I’ll kick your ass?”

“Young means fertile,” Paz says, his arm tightening around you, forcing a little squeak out of you.

“We’ve got a few days before we need to go back home,” Din suggests. “How about we have a little fun with our kitten?”

You wriggle in Paz’s arms. The thought of Paz and Din having their way with you sends a thrill shooting straight through your belly. You watch as Din spreads his cloak on the ground in front of you. Then Paz pushes you down. You land hard on your knees with a grunt. You try to get back up, but Paz keeps you down, wrestling you onto the fabric. He growls with pleasure. No matter how hard you fight, you simply cannot break out of Paz’s grip. His hands are snug around your wrists, but gentle, never painful, as he turns to look at Din.

“Let’s cuff her,” Paz says casually.

Equal measures of arousal and dread fill your belly as Din brings his restraints out. Swiftly, he restrains your wrists behind your back, not giving you the chance to break free. With your hands cuffed behind your back and Din’s hand between your shoulder blades, you can’t move much, so you settle for cursing both men out while Paz kneels behind you.

Then you hear a click and the distinctive hum of a vibroblade activating. You try to twist to see what Paz is doing, but Din keeps you from moving. You feel fabric give way as Paz very carefully slices through the crotch of your pants. Then he wriggles his fingers into the slice in the fabric and yanks it wide open, leaving you feeling cold and exposed.

“You’re already soaking wet,” Paz murmurs.

You hear a faint thump as his gloves land on the cloak next to your head. Two rough, calloused hands settle on your ass cheeks. Then thumbs spread your lower folds wide apart, baring your most private parts for him. Paz lets out a noise of delight.

“Look good?” Din asks.

“Oh, gods, yes,” Paz rumbles out. “So fucking good. Don’t let her move her head.”

You wonder what he’s going to do until you hear him speak again, that feeling of anticipation making your stomach feel weirdly tight.

“Let’s see how good you taste,” Paz says, his rich baritone no longer filtered by his modulator.

You squirm as you feel his breath fan across your vulva, his fingers digging into your plump ass so hard you know there will be bruises there. Paz swipes his tongue across your vulva, making stars dance behind your closed eyelids. A desperate warble escapes you as he draws back.

“You were struggling so much earlier,” Paz croons. “Where’s that fight, kitten?”

You bare your teeth in response and shift your weight, kicking back at him. Paz laughs as you miss him.

“There we go,” he rumbles, leaning in again.

He licks along your slit once more, tracing around your entrance, teasingly dipping the tip of his tongue into you. You buck your hips against his mouth, but Din is quick to pin you back down.

“Fuck you,” you hiss at Paz.

He only hums in response.

“I want a taste of her when you’re done,” Din says over your head.

Paz sucks your clit into his mouth and releases it with a pop that makes you squeal.

“She said she didn’t want this,” Paz comments idly. “But listen to her squealing.”

“I bet she’s already dripping down her thighs,” Din sighs.

Paz ducks his head down. His tongue traces a path from your inner thigh up to your entrance. He chuckles as you try to avoid his tongue. Without warning, Paz thrusts two fingers into your cunt, wrenching a cry of surprise from you.

“Ohh, fuck,” Paz groans out. “This pussy is tight. She’s gonna break my fingers.”

Roughly, he begins pumping his fingers in and out, filling the air with wet, sloppy noises. Then he plunges a third finger into you, making you shriek. Your walls protest the rough treatment, and you moan as each thrust of his calloused digits inside of you sends you spiraling closer and closer to the edge.

“Aww, I can feel your pussy getting all tight,” Paz croons. “Thought you didn’t want us to fuck you, kitten?”

“F-fuck you,” you gasp out, grimacing. “Should fu-fucking kill you – “

Paz pulls his fingers out and wipes your slick onto your thigh, chortling quietly. He gives you a few more long, slow licks, laughing each time you moan.

“Is it my turn?” Din asks.

“Of course,” Paz says. “Drink up, she’s dripping.”

As the two men shuffle around on the cloak, they keep you firmly trapped, not giving you an opportunity to escape. You huff quietly to yourself and resign yourself to the pleasurable torture.

“Look at how pretty,” Din says with a leer you can hear.

You feel him put his helmet down next to your knee. His voice is like caramel to your ears. Unfortunately, you don’t get a chance to enjoy it as he leans in and begins lapping at your slit, little groans of pleasure escaping him. Then he thrusts his tongue through your lips. Your breath catches in your throat, soft moans escaping you. Din gives you a few more moments on his tongue before withdrawing. Like Paz, he pushes his fingers into you, twisting and scissoring them inside you, as if mapping out your inner walls.

“Fuck,” Din says, and you can hear the grin on his lips. “You weren’t kidding.”

“Imagine how good she’s going to feel around your cock,” Paz suggests.

“Good idea,” Din says.

Din shuffles on the cloak behind you. You hear the whisper of fabric against flesh as he pushes his pants down. One hand wraps around your waist as he pushes forward, pressing the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. Then he starts pushing in slowly, firmly, filling you without giving you a chance to adjust. You sob as he finds the end of you, his cock brushing up against something vaguely uncomfortable.

“Oh, fuck,” he stutters out around a harsh pant. “Fuck!”

“Feel good?” Paz asks.

“So. Kriffing. Tight,” Din hisses, punctuating each word with a roll of his hips. “Kitten, how the fuck are you so tight?”

Tears spring to your eyes at how full you are, your walls struggling to take him. Din sets a slow, torturous pace, one that ensures you can feel every single inch of him as he fills you to the brim. Paz trails his hands up from your shoulders to your waist, stroking along your back through your suit. As that familiar heat begins to fill your belly, you realize you might have made a mistake in running your mouth. A very pleasurable mistake, but there is a strong chance you won’t be walking normally for a few days.

“I can feel you squeezing around me,” Din sings down to you. “Are you close, kitten?”

“I thought you didn’t want any of this,” Paz mocks you. “I thought you wanted us to let you go, kitten? I thought you hated the idea of us taking turns fucking you?”

You squirm again as Din’s pace grows rougher. Shit, he’s good. Too good. You’re already about to come and he has barely even gotten started.

“I’m gonna fill this pretty pussy right up,” Din grunts.

A whine escapes you before you can stop it. Paz reaches up and squeezes your hip. Immediately, you know what he’s feeling for. The contraceptive implant. He palpates for a few moments on both sides. A gush of wetness escapes you, pure pleasure filling you at the thought of your warriors breeding you.

“Where’s your contraceptive chip, kitten?” Paz asks. “Or did you not get one, hmm?”

Din increases his pace and force, hips slapping obscenely against your ass. His hand snakes around to your front. Strong fingers begin massaging your clit, little starbursts of pleasure exploding between your thighs. You hit your peak a few moments later, crying out as your walls quiver around his cock. Din’s grunts grow louder, his hands tightening around your hips. He smacks your ass lightly.

“Th-thought you didn’t want us to come in you?” he prompts.

Oh, right. You start struggling against him when you’ve regained your bearings.

“No, don’t you dare!” you hiss at him, “Pull out, pull out now!”

Din goes stiff, pace stuttering as his cock throbs inside of you, soft groans escaping him. Your eyes drift shut as he pants harshly.

“Company,” Paz warns.

Din puts his helmet on and pulls his pants up. You collapse flat onto your front and roll down onto your side, chest heaving as Din’s spend starts to leak out. Paz does not seem to care about the caravan passing by in the distance. Instead, he reaches over to remove your restraints. The instant you are free, you swing at him, but he anticipates it, catching your wrists and pinning them above your head.

With his other hand, he tugs your chest plate off and tosses it aside. Then he yanks your top open, sending buttons flying every which way. Then Paz pulls out his vibroblade.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” you hiss up at him. “This bra was expensive!”

He tilts his helmet down at you. Fortunately, he listens, and puts the damn blade away. Instead, he pushes your bra up over your tits, making you sigh in relief. Then Paz starts to push in. You howl, writhing in his iron-clad grip. Fuck, he’s huge, almost too big.

You pant harshly, digging your heels into his backside as he rocks forward experimentally. Din keeps watch over the caravan in the distance, polishing his weapon in a clear warning for them to stay the fuck away.

“Fight me, kitten,” Paz urges, “Show me those little claws of yours.”

Weakly, you buck your hips, but that only drives him in deeper, so deep it knocks the breath out of your lungs.

“Does my cock feel so good you can’t think?” Paz asks, faintly mockingly, as he rolls his hips once more. “Like that, my pretty little slut?”

Fuck, you think, as you clamp down around his length. Paz laughs at your reaction as he begins a deep pace, his cock hitting every single spot inside you that screams for friction.

“Fucking hell,” Paz breathes. “Din, how did you not come immediately? She’s squeezing so tight she’s about to push me back out.”

“I thought about your face,” Din lobs back easily, earning a bark of laughter from Paz. “He’s getting closer to us. Think he’s watching.”

“Watching?” you ask sharply, squirming again as alarm fills you. “Paz – “

“What, you don’t like the idea of being watched?” Paz asks, tilting his head down at you.

“Fuck off,” you hiss in response, mortification filling you at his words.

“You’re our woman,” Paz says, trailing a finger down to your breast. He pinches your nipple sharply, making you squeak. “And do you know what we do with fine Mandalorian women like you?”

Oh fuck, you think to yourself, as your cunt gushes in response.

“We breed our women,” Paz continues. “And this aruetii gets to see you do what you were meant to do. Take my cock.”

As you buck your hips and try to dislodge him, Paz keeps you pinned down, a growl of laughter escaping him. He keeps you pinned, his thrusts growing rougher and deeper, invading your body in the most pleasurable of ways.

“Yes,” he hisses, “Fight all you want, kitten, but I’m not going to stop. Not until I’ve filled you up, not until I have bred you.”

As you tilt your head, you can see the caravan is dangerously close by, having slowed down to shamelessly watch the three of you. Din is sitting in front of you, shielding most of your body from his prying eyes, but there is no doubting what is currently happening. Paz tweaks your nipple again.

“Look, he’s watching,” Paz croons.

You clamp down around Paz, looking away from the man in the distance. Paz laughs darkly, tilting your helmet back with one gentle hand, forcing you to look back at the trader. Mortification fills you as you see the unadulterated lust in his eyes.

“If you look closely, I think you’ll see just how appreciative he is,” Paz purrs, and your eyes drop down to confirm the massive bulge in the front of his trousers. “Don’t you like the idea of an aruetii watching you get bred?”

You’re shaking now, your body twisting and writhing as you simultaneously try to fight him off and fuck him back. Paz is a heavy, immovable weight between your thighs and on your body, keeping you spread wide open and helpless to do anything but lay there under him and pray for mercy you know will never come. The trader doesn’t even bother trying to hide the fact that he’s watching. You should be mortified, you think to yourself, but you aren’t. Instead, you’re so aroused you can’t even think straight, your head spinning from the dizzying combination of pleasure and shame of being reduced to this. Silently, you urge the trader to take a seat, to watch as your two warriors take turns ravaging your body.

“Come on, my sweet,” Paz urges.

With a shaking breath, you swallow, and redouble your efforts, bucking your hips in a vain attempt to dislodge him. Paz rides you through your struggles, soothing you with soft, mocking shushing noises. You begin to mouth off at him, trying to hide the fact that you are close to coming, your slick puddling under you on Din’s cloak.

“I swear if I get pregnant, I’m going to fucking kill you!” you howl up at him. “Pull out! PULL OUT!”

Paz laughs. You let out a shriek of rage as you writhe in his grasp. Inexplicably, he lets you go. You hammer your fists against his chest plate, but all you manage to do is make your hands hurt.

“Please – please – I’m begging you, pull out – pull out!” you sob up at him.

Paz groans, his pace growing deeper and rougher. You push against his chest plate with all your strength, but he doesn’t even twitch as his body folds over yours. Paz buries his helmet into the crook of your shoulder.

“Oh, kitten,” he moans into your shoulder. “I’m gonna make such a mess in you.”

The thought of Paz flooding your insides breaks you. You let out a high pitched noise as you orgasm, deep shuddering waves of pleasure coursing through you. Paz grunts and lets out a shuddering sigh, his cock throbbing inside you as he fills you with liquid heat.

“Yes, my sweet little slut,” Paz urges. “Milk every last drop out of me.”

Once your orgasm has subsided, you let your legs fall apart onto the cloak, body relaxing under Paz’s comforting warmth. Paz cradles you in his arms, murmuring soft nothings. Warmth fills you at his tender care. You can’t help but to giggle as he nuzzles his helmet against yours, much like a loth-cat would to show their affection.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “You did so, so good. Real proud of you, kitten.”

The trader stands up. He opens his mouth to speak, but Din cuts him off.

“Fuck off, or I shoot,” Din says flatly.

Wisely, the trader holds both hands up and immediately retreats. Once he is gone, Paz pulls out, and a little whimper escapes you. Paz gives you one last kov’nyn and tucks himself away. As you sit up, Paz gathers your armor, while Din offers his hand to you. You stand. Immediately, their very generous contributions begin to make their way back out, and you make a face under your helmet. Din smacks your ass sharply.

“Get back to the ship,” he says. “I’m hard and I want to – “

Grinning, you bolt away from the ship. Din lets out a curse. You hear him drop the things in his arms as he comes after you. You give escaping your best shot, but you are laughing so hard you can’t breathe. You’re half naked, tits and ass flapping in the wind, trying to escape your lovers. The absurdity is nearly too much for you to handle. Din catches up to you easily. Then he scoops his arms around you and flings you over his shoulder, earning a sharp squeal from you. He pats one hand on a sticky ass cheek.

“Bad girl,” he chides, though you can hear amusement in his voice.

You offer no resistance as Din carries you back to the ship. Once inside, Din sets you down while Paz closes the ramp behind himself. Din wraps an arm around you and pulls you close, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Can I take the rest of this off?” he asks, hands lingering on your hips.

“Yes,” you confirm.

Din carefully begins to remove your gear, stacking it all on the table next to you. He drops to his knees to unlace your boots and you step out of them, nudging them under the table. Your ruined pants follow. Then he helps you remove the rest of your clothes, leaving you standing there in your helmet and nothing else. He hesitates.

“May I take your helmet off?” he asks.

Shyly, you reach for his hands and lift them to your helmet. Together, you lift your helmet off. Your eyes sting a bit at the bright lighting from the interior of the ship. Din lets out an appreciative noise as he lifts his hand to stroke your cheek. Pressing a kiss to his thumb, you hook your fingers into his belt and pull him closer, until your tits press up against the cool beskar plate on his chest.

Din brings out his restraints and a grin crosses your face, your pussy clenching in excitement. He encloses your wrists in the rings before testing them. Not too tight, not too loose.

“Ready?” Din asks.

“Ready,” you nod, “Safe word is behot.”

With your confirmation, Din moves swiftly, almost too quickly for you to track. He marches you into the bedroom and tosses you down onto the bed, where you bounce and squeak. Paz follows, already shedding his armor and clothes into the chair. Once Din is naked – save for his helmet – he crawls onto the bed with you, the mattress creaking under his weight. You kick out at him but miss, growling in frustration.

“She’s a feisty little thing, isn’t she?” Din asks Paz. The other man comes to join you, settling on your other side.

As Paz runs his finger along your breast, you bite at him. He laughs and then he thumps his finger against the end of your nose.

“This might be a problem, Paz,” Din says conversationally.

“What is it?” Paz asks.

“It looks like she’s pushed all our cum out of her,” Din says, swiping his fingers through the tacky mess on your thighs.

“We spent all day making those loads for your pussy,” Paz scolds you, tweaking your nipple.

“I never wanted them in the first place,” you growl up at them.

“Sweet kitten,” Din soothes, parting your knees and settling between them. “If you didn’t want to be bred, you shouldn’t have run your mouth.”

“Shouldn’t have called us old and incompetent,” Paz says.

“Called us unworthy of fucking this sweet pussy,” Din adds.

You can’t help the needy moan that escapes you while he strokes his cock to full stiffness. Lifting your hips, you writhe, pulling against Paz’s grip as he holds your wrists above your head.

“You say you don’t want to be pregnant,” Din chuckles lowly. Then he starts pushing in, sliding in with a satisfying thrust. Then he growls, his head falling back as he pauses, letting you feel the throb of his cock in you. “Look at the way you’re whining and writhing on my cock. You want this.”

“We’ll have to keep her chained to this bed until she’s pregnant,” Paz says.

You can’t help but to tighten around Din. He laughs, giving you a short thrust.

“I think she likes the idea of being chained to this bed and used,” Din looks over at Paz.

“Is she like a vice?” Paz asks, feigning surprise.

With one hand, he holds your arms down. With the other, he begins fondling your tits, tweaking your nipple and twisting. Then he smacks lightly, making you squeak and writhe. Din begins to thrust shallowly, his helmet tilting down toward your tits.

“I think she’s trying to keep me from pulling out,” Din says.

“I knew it,” Paz purrs, tracing a gentle finger along your jaw. “You’re a slut for a big, thick cock in you, aren’t you?”

“No!” you blurt out, twisting under Din. “Get it out! NO!”

Paz releases you to get up. Din catches your wrists and presses your palms to his chest as Paz goes to the wall.

“Dig your nails into me,” Din orders firmly.

“Like this?” you pant up at him, as Paz turns the lights off. “Or – or is it t-too much?”

“Make it hurt,” Din barks at you.

You obey, tightening your fingers until your nails dig in. He lets out a growl of pleasure, his hips snapping into yours sharply. Each thrust fills you to the brim and a little more, earning a squeak as he finds the line between pleasure and pain. The light turns off and you hear a thud as Din puts his helmet on the bedside table. Then another as Paz puts his down. The mattress shifts and Paz takes over holding you down.

“Baby, can I please spit in your mouth?” Din whispers, nuzzling along your jaw. You smile and press a kiss against his temple.

“Of course,” you respond.

He groans. Din’s hand finds your jaw and he presses against your cheeks to pry your jaws apart. Then he hooks his thumb over your lower teeth and pulls, holding your mouth open. You let out an inelegant noise as he traces your teeth with his tongue. Then he slides it in further, mapping the roof of your mouth and then your teeth. Din pulls back just a bit and he spits. Of course, he misses your mouth in the dark, so most of it ends up on your cheeks. Din releases you and you swallow, sighing as he starts hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

“Did you like that?” he asks gently, pressing his lips to your temple.

“Yes,” you whisper, “Can you…uhm…”

“What is it, baby?” Paz asks, stroking your arms.

“Be rougher, please?” you ask shyly.

“Anything you want,” Din says. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “I’m ready.”

Din starts rolling his hips harder against yours and Paz’s grip grows tighter, verging on painful. Your eyes roll back up in your head as Din bites the meat of your shoulder and sucks hard. Din palms one breast for a moment, rolling and squeezing before pinching your nipple.

“These titties bounce so beautifully,” Din says. “You like this, kitten? Feeling my cock this far in you?”

“No,” you gasp, arching your back to welcome him in deeper. “No, don’t – don’t want to – “

Paz tweaks both your nipples sharply. You cry out at the little starbursts of pain radiating from your breasts. Then he smacks firmly, making your entire body twitch.

“If you didn’t want us breeding you, you would have kept that smart mouth of yours shut,” Paz says, squeezing again. “So glad you decided to run your mouth, kitten. Never would have known how fucking good you feel.”

“You told us you were ovulating,” Din pants. “Did you think we would turn the invitation down?”

Warmth fills your belly as your pussy begins to throb around his cock. Din groans.

“If you didn’t want to be bred, you wouldn’t be moaning for cock like the little whore you are,” Paz interjects, his hand sliding toward your belly.

You choke out a sob, bucking your hips against Din’s half-heartedly, breaths coming in sharp, gasping pants.

“Come on my cock, my sweet little slut,” Din orders, and you fall apart.

“No, no, no,” you sob out while you come, “Ple-please pull out, don’t do this, Din – “

He groans and lunges forward, heaving gasps escaping him as he finishes, filling you with that liquid warmth you crave. Tightening your legs around his waist, you keep him trapped snugly in you. He thrusts shallowly for a few moments.

“There you go, kitten,” he rasps into your shoulder. “Another load for your fertile pussy.”

“My turn,” Paz says cheerfully.

Din releases you, pressing another kiss to your forehead, and pulls out with a wet noise. You collapse onto the bed, legs spread wantonly, as you try to catch your breath. Paz settles between your knees. He thrusts in sharply, wrenching a cry of surprise from you as he fills you. He begins to move, each thrust rocking your body on the covers.

“Fuck,” Paz grunts.

Arching your back, you whine, tightening your legs around Paz’s waist.

“Please,” you whine, “Harder, Paz.”

A desperate noise escapes you as he goes still.

“What was that, kitten?” he asks.

“Harder, please,” you mewl impatiently.

“Did we change your mind?” Din croons, tracing your jaw with his fingers. “Do you want to be filled up with cum, little slut?”

Another impatient noise escapes you as you lift your hips, urging Paz to continue what he was doing before. He doesn’t move, much to your chagrin. Your lower lip slides out in a pout.

“Tell me exactly what you want from me, kitten,” Paz says.

“I want you to fuck me please. Finish in me, I want every last drop,” you moan into his ear, sighing when he starts moving again. “Wanna be bred.”

“Good girl,” Paz rumbles in response.

“Wanna do what I was made to do,” you sigh, digging your nails into his back. “Get knocked up.”

He keeps a slow and unhurried pace, your mewls and pleas falling on deaf ears. He works you slowly to the edge, drawing out each thrust and kiss until you feel like your entire body quivering in desperation. He changes his pace then, grinding his pubic bone into your clit, giving you the friction and pressure that you so desperately need. Biting on your lower lip, you lift your hips, digging your nails into his back as you start to come. Paz bites you again and orgasm hits you like a freighter. You sob his name out, toes curling, as the pleasure wracks your body.

Paz rests inside you as you come down from your high, feeling fuzzy and warm, as if you’re about to fall asleep. He pulls out. A generous amount of his spend follows. He presses his lips to your forehead as you start to drowse off.

“Rest,” he murmurs. “You will need your strength, kitten.”

As you drift off, Paz tucks a blanket around you. Vaguely, you hear Din and Paz arguing over who sleeps where, but you tune them out, sinking into the warm abyss of sleep.

You aren’t quite sure how many times the two of them fuck you throughout the next few days. Originally, you had tagged along to hunt with them, but the two men clearly had other plans in mind. That first night, they keep you in bed, letting you out only for a trip to the bathroom and for food. The cuffs are loose enough for you to slip out in case of emergency, but you don’t take advantage of that fact. Honestly, the thought of being entirely at their mercy gets you soaked in seconds. Din also refuses to let you wear clothes. Any attempt to cover up is met with a growl and a very swift undressing.

Cover your tits with your hands? Din reaches for the handcuffs. He even threatens to hide the blankets and pillows until you agree to remain completely naked for his viewing pleasure. “If you’re cold,” Din says, “You come to me, and I’ll keep you warm.” Paz only shakes his head.

During the days, they alternate who hunts and who stays behind with you. When it’s Din’s turn to stay behind, he likes keeping you cuffed. Sometimes, when you’re very naughty, he’ll cuff you to the pilot’s seat and keep you between his knees. Then, he’ll slide his flaccid cock in your mouth and keep it there until you can get it hard again. Sometimes, when you get a little too fresh with him, he will finish on your face. He likes mocking you when you sulk about him wasting a load like that. Then, while you’re protesting, Din will slide his cock right back into your mouth to shut you up. When you’ve behaved to his liking, Din will finish in your pussy and tell you what a good girl you’ve been.

Paz, on the other hand, can’t stay out of your pussy. When it’s his turn to stay with you, he just plops you into his lap and buries his cock inside you. Paz is a very patient man. Sometimes, he makes you sit perfectly still on his cock. He won’t touch you until you break apart and beg him for his touch. Then, and only then, will he let you finish. Other times, he flat out uses you, not caring if you get off in the process. Then he makes you sit there in complete silence, feeling as his cock goes all soft inside you. If you make the mistake of letting his cock slip out, Paz will sigh in disappointment and make you lick up the mess that escapes your poor abused pussy.

On the fourth day of your scheduled breeding, Din comes back with something he promises you will “love”. He heads into the galley for a few minutes. You can hear the sounds of running water and him washing something. After his shower, he joins the two of you in the bed. Paz pulls out and Din replaces him. You whine impatiently – Paz hasn’t let you finish all day long. He’s kept you on the edge the entire time. Not thirty seconds later, Din also finishes, and you sulk as he pulls out.

Then something soft and squishy presses right up against your abused entrance. Your pussy resists for a few moments – whatever it is, it’s big – but it eventually pops in. You squirm as it slides in, pressing up against your g-spot.

“What the hell?” you ask Din.

“It’s an egg,” Din says proudly. “This way, we’ll be able to keep our cum inside you while you’re doing your chores, kitten.”

“I like that idea,” Paz says. “Speaking of chores, I’m hungry.”

“Me too,” Din says.

“Go get dinner on the table, woman,” Paz says, smacking your ass cheek as you roll off the bed.

The instant they found out you like being told what to do, they started taking shameless advantage of it. When they’re not fucking you, Paz and Din often have you cleaning armor or doing the cleaning around the ship. Paz especially loves watching you in the galley as you cook the meals. This is the only exception to Din’s demand that you stay naked. He lets you wear an apron to do the cooking so you don’t accidentally burn yourself. As soon as you’re finished in the galley, Din takes the apron from you and locks it up.

It took a little bit before you got used to the egg inside you, but now, it feels quite nice pressing up against your g-spot. Not only that, it keeps their spend from leaking out and making a horrible mess on your thighs. Din and Paz like seeing evidence of you being bred, but the thought of having it plugged up inside you is far more appealing to them. You can’t help but to find their eagerness to knock you up weirdly endearing.

“We should keep her like this forever,” Din says one evening while he fucks into your limp body, forcing a mortified moan out of you. “Naked and fucked into submission.”

“I like it much better when she’s cooking and cleaning,” Paz leers, stroking his cock as he waits for Din to finish, “Imagine how good she’ll look with a big belly on her. Cooking, cleaning, and looking after the little ones.”

Din swears as he finishes, coating your walls with another thick layer of spend. He pulls out and you squirm a bit. Your walls are hypersensitive now, almost tender from the sheer number of times the two warriors have fucked into your body. Paz laughs as he pushes in, plugging Din’s cum inside you.

“How many brats are we going to breed out of her?” Din asks, turning your head to the side.

He traces your lips with the head of his cock, smearing his spend and your slick onto your face. Obediently, you open your mouth and lick at the head of his cock. Din sighs as he slides in with short, gentle thrusts. Once they found out that you could swallow their cocks up to the hilt, neither one had been shy about using your mouth to get hard.

“Six,” Paz says, “Six sounds good.”

“Do you like the sound of that, kitten?” Din asks, tilting his helmet down at you. “Do you think you can breed us six children?”

You pull your mouth off Din’s cock and give him a look of pure disbelief.

“Competent warriors could provide for more than six,” you say hoarsely. “Only a useless, ancient fucker like you would stop at six.”

Paz starts to laugh hysterically at the incredulity in Din’s posture. Din sighs and picks up the big, squishy silicone egg he bought. Then he pops it into your pussy and smacks your ass.

“My armor needs to be cleaned,” he says. “Get to work, woman.”

“Yes, sir,” you sigh, as you bring your knees together and slide off the table.

They drop you off back home with the rest of the supplies. From there, Din and Paz go on to pursue the more dangerous bounties that they don’t quite trust you with. It doesn’t really offend you – you really aren’t that great of a hunter. They can handle themselves alone. They make a formidable team when partnered up together. When you go in for your medical examination, Doctor Shen just sort of stares at the results of the scan.

“Is this why you came to ask for the pregnancy cocktail?”

“I told them I was ready to have a baby,” you say shyly. “I’m so happy they were willing to help.”

Her hand on her hip is the equivalent of a raised brow.

“You’re covered in bruises and bite marks,” she says. “Did you get any hunting done at all?”

“I hunted for the first few days,” you say defensively. “Then I did a personal scan and found I was going to be ovulating soon.”

She sighs and shakes her head.

“It’ll be a little bit before we can determine if you succeeded,” she says. “So, take it easy for now.”

Twelve weeks later, Doctor Shen confirms that yes, Paz and Din were quite successful in knocking you up. When they get back, you deliver the good news. You expect them to be overjoyed – which they are – but you do not expect them to start arguing on the spot over who gets to raise the child. It gets to the point where they look like they’re ready to start brawling, so you swiftly cut in.

“You idiots had no problem taking turns fucking me,” you say, ignoring all the witnesses in the room. “You won’t have a problem taking turns raising this baby with me.”

Paz and Din grumble about having to ‘put up with’ the other, but eventually concede. You won’t admit it, but it feels nice being fought over by the two more competent warriors in the Tribe. You know you’re the recipient of many jealous looks from the others, but you have no desire to share them with anyone else. As your belly grows larger, Paz finally lets you move into his room, which is much larger than the bunk you share with your friend. (Din also moves in, so he can ‘make sure’ that Paz is looking after you.)

Then they start arguing about whose name the baby is going to get, which clan it is going to be raised in, and which warrior you were going to marry. (Armorer ends up cutting into the argument and telling you to just marry them both because she’s sick of hearing their voices and could you please tell them to shut up?)

Paz wins getting the two of you to join up as part of his clan. Regardless of clan politics, the Vizsla emblem does get certain benefits. You win the last name debacle by saying the baby gets your last name. Finally, Din gets to name the baby. (Though you remind him that any stupd names like Ori’buyce will immediately be vetoed.)

When you’re starting to get round, Din and Paz spend a lot of their time simply touching you, marveling at the changes in your body. You have to sleep between them most nights because they’re always underfoot, wanting to feel the baby move. Now, being pregnant isn’t a deterrent for either one.

In fact, the bigger your belly gets, the more they want to pleasure you. It doesn’t ever get rough – Paz and Din don’t want to risk hurting you or the baby – but it takes very little to convince them to please you. This late in your pregnancy, it’s hard to manage sex comfortably. So, they have to be creative.

Paz will make a nest of pillows on the armchair outside and layers a few towels onto the cushion. Then he carefully nestles you onto it, lifting your legs onto the arm rests until you’re spread wide open for them. (This is approximately the same time that Din loses control over his mouth.)

Din loves to tell you how good you look with a big, round belly. He comments on how your breasts have changed, how they feel heavy and ripe and full in his palms. Paz likes to tell you that you look like some sort of fertile goddess, ready to bring life into the world. He likes kissing every stretch mark and worshiping your pussy. When you’re appropriately dazed and incapable of forming a coherent sentence, they’ll let you rest. (The bigger the wet spot you leave behind on the pile of towels, the prouder they are of themselves.)

When you’re only a week from giving birth, the two of them start nesting hard. You have to wade through boxes of baby supplies to get into the little room you’ve turned into the nursery. The two idiots feed off of the other’s anxiety to the point where you have to pry baby supplies out of their hands and order them to rest. (You only have to threaten to get Doctor Shen three times before they calm down and stop panicking.)

The delivery goes smoothly. Din and Paz stay by your side the entire time, holding your hand and sponging the sweat off your forehead. They both cry more than the baby does as you hold him close to your chest. You know who fathered him, but neither Din nor Paz care. From there, they take you straight home. The two of them make a marvelous team, especially when it comes to Wife and Baby Care Duties.

Baby needs to be fed? Din’s already up to grab the baby, while Paz is finding some burp cloths for you. Diaper needs to be changed at night? You don’t know about it until you check the baby diaper log. (You are definitely getting the better end of the deal here, but you won’t complain about not having to change the diapers at night.)

By the time you’re on baby five (or six, was it? You’re not sure how many kids you have at this point), Paz and Din have already started staying at home longer and longer to bask in their well-earned ‘retirement’. They haven’t stopped hunting of course. Paz or Din just takes a young hunter or two with him to give them one-on-one tutelage.

“It’s a real privilege to be in this position,” Paz explains, as he shaves the remaining stubble off his face. “Back on Nevarro, we didn’t have this privilege. We had to go out on our own. We never had backup.”

“Kids are going to be soft,” Din mutters, though you can see the proud smile on his face. “We’ll have to toughen them up.”

“They’re lucky to have the two of you,” you respond quietly, to avoid waking up the newest member of the family. “Passing on your knowledge and skill…we’ll be all the stronger for it.”

“Exactly,” Din says, plastering a kiss onto your forehead.

“Can’t wait to take the ad’ika out,” Paz says dreamily. “Hopefully, we’ll be able to arrange childcare so you can come along.”

“I’m not missing any of their first hunts,” you say flatly. “The Tribe will just need to suck it up and babysit.”

The two of them only laugh at your indignant response. As you look out into the living room, you smile as you see your offspring spread out on the couch, watching a ‘borrowed’ movie. They will make fine warriors, you think to yourself, especially with who their fathers are.

Permanent Tags:

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Paz/Din Tags:

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The “If I have to Suffer, So Do You” Tags:

@magsgotswags @thecautiousengineer

#tv: the mandalorian #din djarin x f!reader #paz vizsla x f!reader x din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #paz vizsla x f!reader #din djarin x you #paz vizsla x you #paz vizsla x reader #din djarin x reader x paz vizsla #din djarin x you x paz vizsla #smut #tailor writes #tailor is a thirsty bitch confirmed #a smorgasbord of nonstop fucking #in which reader gets more sausage than a denny's #if you use an ultraviolet light on the bedding it looks like a jackson pollock painting

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