Chapter summary: Tending to the Mandalorian’s wounds, you inadvertently learn what he’s hiding beneath all that armour, and temptation becomes hard to resist.
Rating: Explicit (18+).
Chapter word count: 5,700
Chapter tags/warnings: OFC!Reader’s POV; graphic descriptions of injuries and medical care; flirting; oral sex – male receiving; Din managing a unique combo of dominant words and subby actions.
Author’s Note: Thanks for your support and patience while I polish off the edits to each chapter before posting – I want this fic to be as perfect as possible. Also huge thanks to @wrathkitty for her invaluable input on this one! 🙏🏻😘 Okay, we’re switching POVs back to OFC!Reader for your first taste of smut. Detailed notes at the end as always! Every single reply and reblog makes my heart sing (as do comments and kudos over on AO3). 💖
Mando’s bicep tenses as you slice away another fragment of melted flight suit, angling the sterilised scalpel to take only dead and blistered skin with it. It feels like you’ve been at this for hours already, and you can still barely believe you’re doing it.
Once your anger at his reckless actions had thawed, a rising panic soon replaced it. Overwhelmed, you’d resorted to your default coping strategy: bossiness. That familiar mask had helped until he’d bitten back with a threat that would’ve ended badly for you both. With his recovery contingent on earning his trust, you’d had to switch tactics.
Letting a hunter see your vulnerable side was a risk, but it had paid off. You’d matched honour with respect, and now that you’ve cracked that shell, your panic is slowly giving way to increasing sympathy. He seems… nice. You’re no longer performing this task out of necessity alone, and the genuine desire to help him adds confidence to your movements. It’s even allowed you to find a rhythm of sorts in your macabre work.
To his credit, Mando is a model patient, enduring his gruesome treatment with impressive fortitude. You’d predicted more of a fuss, but muscle twitches and sharp breaths are your only clues he’s feeling anything at all. Perhaps the bounty hunting life toughened him up. Nonetheless, you pay careful attention to his tells; you’d rather know if you’re slicing too deep.
Peeling away a congealed mess of skin and coarseweave from his inner elbow elicits a long exhale. He must’ve been holding his breath for this last one. You squirt saline over the freshly scraped wound, watching his fingers curl into a loose fist against the floor. They relax as you seal the bacta patch’s edges, concluding your treatment of his arms.
“Still doing okay?” you ask, searching the black visor for any hint of what might be happening behind it.
He dips his helmet in response, maintaining the silence he’s been cultivating since you helped him drink. Despite his earlier dry throat, he was borderline chatty throughout the prep stage, somewhat quelling your nerves. Now, the contrasting absence of dialogue feels palpable. You pray it’s just gritted teeth keeping him quiet, not regret at being stuck here with you.
With his arms taken care of, you reach for the vibroblade again and clear your throat. “I need to…” You trail off as you gesture toward his legs. “Is this still okay?”
Mando nods again, a sharper jerk that betrays his own discomfort, his muscles rippling with it.
Taking a deep breath to dispel your own misgivings about stripping a man you’ve only just met, you begin cutting. The outer seams of his pants part easily, no match for the humming blade. Now for the awkward part.
As soon as you lean in close to cut around the wounds, the tension climbs rapidly. Your knuckles brush against his bare thigh, and you feel the muscle jump beneath your touch. “Sorry,” you murmur, though you’re not entirely sure what for. He doesn’t reply.
Finally, the garment falls away, revealing golden skin patterned with scars. A map of past battles etches its way across gorgeously toned thighs, now freshly marred by blistered, debris-filled welts.
You swallow hard and try to focus on his wounds, but you can’t tear your eyes from the sculpted terrain of his legs and the insight it offers. An athlete’s strength. A warrior’s endurance. A human’s limitations. It’s a welcome distraction from the grim knowledge that you have yet more patches of fused flesh and fabric to excise.
Smearing on the bacta gel strains the atmosphere even further. Suddenly, you can’t seem to distinguish between a soothing motion and a sensual one. Aiming for clinically professional, you smooth the salve across the large burn near Mando’s groin, but your attention keeps drifting to the impressive bulge only centimetres away beneath his black undershorts.
That’s definitely not a blaster.
CONTINUE READING THIS CHAPTER ON AO3
Please feel free to JOIN MY TAG LIST or lmk in the comments if you’d like a tag for this fic only.
Leave me be, I was in my happy place when Cal was in that imperial ship. This bit should have taken me. What a few minutes, but I lost track of time on the plot you see.
I forgot how good this man looks in just his training shirt. 😝
I would pay good money to see how Din managed to get out of that little mud hut Grogu built. He almost died again, wakes up in a tight space, has to get out but doesn’t want to wake up Grogu, so he has to wriggle his way out. You just know the poor man STRUGGLED
May I present: Leda and the Swan Princess! It's based on this post about a swan princess who refuses to go quietly in obscurity when cursed. (If you liked this one you will probably also like my other comics which you can find on my pinned post).
If you enjoyed and want to support a queer art student, you can tip me over on my Ko-fi! Tips help me out dramatically while I'm still in school!
Find this and my other comics on Tapas, Once Upon a Meet Cute!
- drop the crest out of the sky to evade or attack. That entire maneuvre
- the slutty lil knee stance
- sighing
- getting in someones face when they piss him off. Like he consistently stands RIGHT up in their business
- when hes talking to someone who is clearly some type of nefarious, and lets them think he’s going along with everything they say (“agreeing” to find and “kill” ahsoka in s2)
- the wide shots where he’s far away and looking toward the camera (again idk)
- the way he goes statue-still sometimes (esp when stressed out). Like every muscle in his body is pulled completely and totally taut
- the way his stance shifts and his body braces RIGHT before a fight
- his pained crackly groan when he gets up after being knocked down. Its probably a stock sound they reuse but maaan is it good
- actually all of his noises of discomfort are amazing
- scanning a room
- the way his helmet jiggles around when he talks
- darksaber
- getting injured. limping. labored breathing.
- being kind to people consistently
- honoring his word, even if it means certain death
- when he makes some dark ass jokes about dying a horrible death?? Hot.
- when he’s comfortable around people and his cute ass personality shows. Yes i’m talking about “Wizard.” When he’s with peli
- flying/piloting ships
- understanding how ships work intimately. He knows every part. Likely was educated on this, so he can be self reliant and never stranded.
- the way he speaks to everyone equally. He doesnt baby or coddle. He speaks to the kind lizard lady the same way he speaks to cobb vanth. He’s genuine.
i need to cut it off here or this post will never end lmfao
If i have more to add i’ll reply to this post as a part 2
thinking about din trying to figure out a way to properly let grogu communicate with him now that he has settled into the role of a father. i bet he wouldn’t even force grogu to be verbal,. maybe he had suggested it once but grogu looked at him with sad eyes and din was like “okay so non verbal communication it is”
din teaches grogu tusken sign language so that grogu can speak to him. the first signs he teaches grogu is the one for ‘hungry’ and ‘tired’. after that it’s ‘father’ and, tentatively, ‘love’.
the first time he feels a tug on his cape, and he sees grogu sign a clumsy ‘love father’, din thinks his heart might burst.
Ahhh I am a day late but THANK YOU to everyone who tagged me - @bergamote-catsandbooks @grogusmum @maggiemayhemnj @insomniamamma & @sawymredfox - all of your wips look incredible and I can't wait to sink my teeth into them!
I have two little snippets to share this week, one each for Frankie and Din. They're both pretty far from finished, but here's a little peek at what you can expect:
from Second Chances - Part Four:
“So I know it’s probably not what you thought you’d be doing when you signed up, but unfortunately it’s laundry day and-”
You held up a hand to stop him. “What I thought I’d be doing when I signed up, Frankie, is whatever it is that needs doing around here.” Shrugging, you gave him a one-cheek smile. “I knew it wasn’t all going to be playing and cuddling with puppies.”
He let out an amused huff, one hand reaching up to scratch at the patchy stubble on his chin. “You’d be surprised at how many people think that’s exactly all it is.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” you responded. “But I get it. It’s like with my work. People think all I do is go to fancy parties and take fun pictures, but there’s editing and photo selection and advertising and client outreach and…” You circled your wrist to insinuate et cetera and so forth, and Frankie nodded. “So yeah. Maybe playing with puppies and going to cool parties are the glamorous parts.” You used air quotes on the last two words. “But I know how important all the behind the scenes stuff is. Just point me in the direction of the laundry room and I’ll dig in.”
He looked visibly relieved to hear that you understood. He probably doesn’t want me to think that he’s making me do laundry because I’m a woman. Or that it’s because we got off on… a weird foot. Both hands went to his hips, and he shifted his weight to his back leg, tilting his head towards the door. “Alright, well, how about I give you a quick tour of the place first. That way whenever you come back and get your work assignment, you’ll know where to go.”
You smiled. “Sounds good to me.”
------
from Skira - Part Five:
There was a hunger that hummed through the crowd as they cheered and chanted for blood to be spilled, fists thrust into the air. You could feel the pulse of it vibrating through you as you followed Trixi to your seat. It made you sick to know that they came to see carnage, that they placed bets on whether a fighter would live or die. On whether Din would live or die.
“Right up here, doll,” your guide trilled, motioning for you to climb a small set of stairs to a platform that was slightly raised above the crowd. “Best seats in the house!”
You let out a shaky sigh, the hand in your pocket still clenched tightly around Din’s scarf, and followed Trixi’s direction. There were four seats on the platform, all of them empty, with another two seat raised slightly above those situated behind them. You assumed that the highest one belonged to Karesh, but you wondered who, if anyone, would be joining you on your level.
------
tagging: @djarinmuse @din-cognito @newpathwrites @chiyo13 @djarins-cyare @burntheedges @annwrites24 @bluestar22x & anyone else who wants to share!
Summary: Part of a band of travelers, your party is slowly picked off one by one, until there are only two of you left. Finding an abandoned cabin in the woods, you decide to make camp there until you figure out your next move. As the seasons change, the nights get longer and longer…
