I just. Love Mando’a so fucking much. It’s so great.
They have three different words to describe ways to be stabbed. Bikadinir (to stab with a broad blade; “run through”), chekar (to stab with a small blade, “shiv”), and kalikir (to stab with a narrow blade, “skewer”).
They have one pronoun. Kaysh. That’s it. Buir is just parent, there’s no mom/dad. No son/daughter, just ad, ad’ika, ikaad. Child. Vod can mean sibling, friend, comrade. All at once. Amazing.
They have dozens of ways to insult someone. Di’kut, someone who forgets to put their pants on. Utreekov, emptyhead. Najaat, no honor. Dini, lunatic. Kaysh mirsh solus, “their brain cell is lonely.” Skanah, “much hated person/thing.” Hut’uun, coward. Ge’hut’uun, not even notable enough to be called a coward (how insulting is that?). Demagolka, originating from Demagol, the name of a scientist who was so fucking shitty that his name became the worst insult a Mandalorian could call you. And that insult is child abuser, monster, war criminal, someone with no honor.
And then there’s “shab”, which we don’t have an official definition for, but the fandom collectively agrees it means “fuck.” Because we have shabiir (to screw up), shab’la (screwed up), shab’rudur (to screw with), and shabuir (jerk but much stronger, AKA asshole/motherfucker).
And Mando’ade don’t say “I love you.” They say “Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum.” I hold you in my heart for eternity. Like. Are you serious. That’s so much better than “I love you.” If someone said that to me I would die on the spot.
Mirshmure’cya means “brain kiss.” Slang for headbutt, which is a thing Mando’ade do a lot, apparently. And it’s a sign of affection, too. They show affection by gently bonking their helmets together. How adorable is that???
Oh, and shereshoy. A lust for life “and much more.” Represented by orange on their armor. “The enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as surviving to see the next day - hanging onto life and relishing it.” And that “oy” at the end of it, derived from “Oya!”
“Oya”, which can mean so many things. A war cry before a fight or hunt. A celebration. An encouragement. “Let’s hunt!” “Hoorah!” “Cheers!” “That’s the spirit!”
This post got much longer than I meant it to lol. I’ll stop here. But you get the gist. Mando’a is a wonderful language and I am in love with it.
Warnings: 18+, SMUT. The helmet stays on baby let's gooooooooo. Established relationship. Porn with very little plot. Clitoral stimulation, multiple orgasms (F receiving), slight overstimulation, Unprotected PIV (No, bad don't do that) Thinly veiled mask kink, Breeding kink. Creampie. Contraception and family planning mentioned. Mandalorian pet names. Language (Swearing). Praise, dirty talk. Reader has hair but is in no other way described other than having breasts and a vagina.
Masterlist
///
The ship was silent now.
The child had finally relented and gone to sleep. You'd tried for over an hour to settle him, reading to him, rocking him, singing to him, letting him use the force to steal that little metal ball from you. Nothing had worked.
Din could sense your frustration from all the way up in the cockpit. He'd felt guilty hearing the wails from the little one, followed by your gentle hushing and coos. You'd told him to concentrate on navigating the crest through a particularly crowded asteroid field and you'd go settle the child, planting a gentle kiss to the top of his helmet before you'd descended into the cargo hold.
The longer it went on the more he felt for you. You had always been patient and understanding with Grogu, even from day one when Din had bought him back with him from his mission, no questions needed to be asked. You'd known exactly why Din couldn't resist to bring him home.
Tonight though, your patience was being tested. The cries were high pitched and those big eyes were full of real tears. Sometimes you wished he could talk and tell you what was wrong, but he's no different to a human baby in that sense.
Eventually, Din had traversed safely past the asteroids, unable to withstand listening to the noise any longer, if it was deafening him from upstairs, he couldn't imagine what it was doing to your eardrums.
///
It had been about ten minutes since Din came and took over, scooping the child into his arms while telling you to go rest, you didn't even hesitate, darting off to the quiet confines of your shared bunk.
You didn't even bother to switch on the over head light, all you wanted right now was to lay in a dark, quiet room. Thanking the maker that the ordeal was finally over.
You're just about to doze off when the door hisses open, light from the hull flooding in makes you wince.
"I'm sorry Cyar'ika" Din steps inside, pressing the button to close the door behind him, plunging the space into darkness once more.
You hear the rustling of him removing his armour, with a few 'Kriffs' added in as he inevitably knocks into the wall.
Soon enough he's crawling into the bunk with you and you shift over to make space for him.
You feel his arm drape over your side, pulling you closer to him, helmet resting against the back of your head, old habits die hard.
His large ungloved hand slips under the hem of your shirt, gently kneading your soft tummy. It's a comfort thing he does sometimes, you've noticed.
A soft contented sigh leaves you as you feel yourself relaxing in his arms.
"Are you okay Cyar'ika? I know tonight was not easy, I'm just sorry I couldn't come help sooner, that asteroid field was treacherous."
"I'm okay now you're here. I don't think he wanted me at all tonight though, that much was clear. Ahh well, all part of being a parent, I suppose."
A modulated chuckle sounds behind you "I suppose it is, doesn't make it any less stressful though. I think I just got lucky with him truthfully. Though it's good practice for when we add another founding to the mix isn't it?"
You'd discussed having a baby before, you'd said the vows a long time ago, he was yours as much as you were his. However the logistics of having a child while Din does the work that he does had meant that you'd both put it on the back burner. Even if it had been on your mind a lot more these days.
You'd stocked up on a special contraceptive brew a while ago on one of the more modern planets, taking it religiously every morning after sharing an intimate encounter.
It was obvious however, that he wanted to get you pregnant, he made no secret of that.
"Yes but imagine two of that? I don't think I'd be able to wait a full hour for help while you steer us through an asteroid field before I start tearing my hair out."
"Cyar'ika, you know I have no intention of continuing this job when we have another foundling. I want to be completely present, I appreciate how you took Grogu on as your own and how good you are with him. But I'm no idiot, I know it's not easy."
You shift in the bunk to face him, laying on your side, your hands coming to rest on his chest "I do know that, you want to find your clan and help rebuild a settlement on a quiet planet somewhere, but we haven't found them yet, Din. I think we should keep waiting at least, until that happens. I know that's not what you want to hear."
"Mesh'la" He starts, lifting his hand to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you forget sometimes that with the helmet on he can see in the dark. "Of course, I respect that. I know it would be foolish to bring a child into all this, another one I mean. We'll wait, as long as we have to."
Thank goodness for that night vision, because he can see you smile right now, even after all this time it makes his heart skip a beat.
"Well I'm glad your desire to see me full of your babies hasn't clouded your judgement at least" The teasing in your tone has him grinning under his helmet.
"No, but a man can still dream can't he?" His voice lowers an octave as his hand drops to the waistband of your leggings, teasing his fingers along the elastic, it has the desired effect on you as you feel your pulse quicken.
"I never said he couldn't. Are you planning on taking that helmet off tonight or what?"
"Why would I do that, Mesh'la? I want to be able to see my wife's beautiful face when she cums for me." You're about to offer to put the overhead light on but he doesn't give you a chance, his hand slips under the waistband, dipping down to stroke your folds over your panties, eliciting a soft sigh from you. He can feel the growing wet patch through the cotton. "Yes I think I'll keep it on tonight, you like it anyway, don't you, ner kar'ta?"
He's anything but stupid, knowing exactly how to rile you up. If you were being honest with yourself, the helmet and the armour had been what first attracted you to him, you'd had no choice but to fall for the outer facade before you could see the man underneath and even though he was strikingly handsome, you could still got off when he kept the damn thing on.
It took you back to the earlier days of your relationship, before the vows you'd spoken that meant he could remove it in front of you, the sex had been electrifying, the mystery had added something to it and awakened a part of you that you didn't know existed until you'd met him.
"Keep it on, just this once" you coo, chasing the touch of his fingers with your hips.
"Just this once" He echoes as he presses his fingers tighter against your clit, making you whine foe him. "Needy already hm Cyar'ika? I can feel you soaking those panties. Lift your hips for me" He withdraws his hand as you do what he asks, lifting your hips for him to peel off your leggings and underwear in one go, tossing them away to the tiny patch of floor at the foot of the bunk.
His fingers slowly drift back up your thigh, making goose bumps break out across your body, even after all this time he still knows how to make your body react to him without even trying too hard.
Laying on your side still facing him, your legs part slightly as he reaches the apex of your thighs, teasing the coarse curls there for a moment before he slips a single digit between your folds, groaning lowly when he finds you drenched for him.
"Maker, I barely have to touch you and you're already a mess for me." He purrs as if he's at all surprised by that fact.
He starts off slow and light, circling your clit with the gentlest of pressure. "Does that feel good Mesh'la?"
"Yes, keep going... please." You breathe, your hand sliding down to cup his hardening cock over his pants.
With his free hand his plucks yours off him, gently pinning it above your head. "You first. I need you to cum for me first before I'll even consider letting you touch me." There it is, the assertive side of him that you love so much. "You're going to cum for me as many times as you can take and then I'm going to fuck you. Do you understand, Mesh'la? Nod if you understand." He commands as he adds more pressure to his touch, rubbing your clit in tighter circles now. You manage to nod dumbly as your little gasps and moans fill the bunk.
"So good for me, aren't you? Just let me make you take care of you now Cyar'ika" He drops his hand from your wrist, snaking it around your waist to pull you against him, his helmet pressing agaisnt your forehead.
You're sure your soft pants are fogging up his visor but he doesn't seem to care. Your arm loops around his neck holding onto him as he draws you closer and closer to the edge, feeling that first orgasm building even without needing to slip his fingers inside you. He knows your body inside and out by now, all your little cues are like reading a map to him.
"Din... I... I'm going to..." You tell him in a breathy whisper, as if he couldn't already tell by the way your leg is starting to shake.
"Shh I know, I know Mesh'la. Give it to me, cum for me." He doesn't change his rhythm in any way, keeping the pressure the same with the tight little circles, it's all enough to have you falling apart for him, head thrown back as you moan his name.
He doesn't slow or stop, guiding you through your release, groaning with you when he briefly slips his fingers down to your entrance feeling the flutters and pulsing as you clench around nothing.
"That's it. More Mesh'la, I know you can take more, can't you?" He circles your entrance a few times, collecting your juices before he swipes them back up to your swollen bud, continuing his ministrations.
"Mmhmm. Oh maker... Din... Shit... That's it just like that..." He's applied just the right pressure now and he knows that it won't be long before you're shattering for him once more, it's always the same after he coaxes the first one out of you. At first it had surprised you with how quick he could make you cum in such quick succession but now you revel in it.
And it's not long at all befoee he has you quaking in his arms again, holding you tightly against him. You forget momentarily that the helmets on as you go to kiss him, lips meeting Beskar instead. He let's out a breathy modulated chuckle, finding it adorable, he'll shower you with kisses later.
After that he just keeps going.
Another one.
And another.
And another.
By the fifth orgasm he's pulled from you, you're completely gone, writhing wildly agaisnt him as he works you through it, greedily wanting to bring you to climax one more time. Just one more time, it's always one more time.
But right now you can't, it's too much, you're gasping and angling your hips away from him, forcing him to stop, going boneless in his arms.
"Fuck... Okay... I'm done... I can't any more." you pant into the crook of his neck, both of his arms encircle you now, rubbing up and down your back in a soothing gesture.
"You did so good for me, Cyar'ika. So good. Do you think you can still take my cock or do you want to get some sleep?"
Your head whips up from where it was rested, looking down at him like he's insane. "Oh no no Djarin, you said you were going to fuck me so you'd better stick to that."
You just know his grin is ear to ear under the Beskar. "That's my girl. Turn over."
You oblige, pulling off your shirt as you shift onto your side facing away from him, the bunk is too small for more adventurous positions but you've both learned what works best over the years.
You hear a rustle of fabric behind you as he's taking off his pants, throwing them away from the bed realising quickly that he's also taken off his underwear when you feel his fat tip pressing firmly agaisnt your ass. Smart man.
You twist slightly, blindly reaching back in the dark wanting to touch him, he notices and grabs your hand guiding you to him. You feel him tense initially when your hand wraps around him, soon relaxing when you give him a few slow, experimental tugs. He's heavy in your hand like he always is, his girth hadn't surprised you considering he seemed to walk around like a man who had a reason to be so confident.
"Mesh'la... That feels good. But I need to be inside you, please." The want in his tone has you preening, he's so worked up from getting you off that he can't wait any longer.
You shift back, teasingly wiggling your ass against his cock, letting it slip between your cheeks, his hand flies out to grip your hip as he rocks against you in return, guiding him downwards with your hand to notch him at your entrance.
You move your hand away when he slowly starts to push inside, inch by inch letting you adjust to his thickness until he's buried deep in you.
"You feel so fucking perfect Cyar'ika.... So tight, like you were made for me."
"Din please, I need you to move now."
And he does, with slow, shallow thrusts, drawing back until just the tip of his cock is left inside you before he sinks back in. Keeping his rhythm steady and measured as he builds up to a pace that will have you both seeing stars.
You're rolling your hips back to meet his, his big hand is gripping your hip as he guides your movements, your combined moans and groans rising in volume.
It's not long before he loses control, unable to take it anymore with the noises you're making for him, slipping his free hand under your ribs to grope at your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers, making you gasp and arch back into him.
"Harder Din, please!"
Your breathy whine goes straight to his cock, feeling the familiar tingle building at the base of his spine already.
Not yet. Not yet.
He obliges in your plea, gripping your hip so hard it'll leave indent marks as he thrust into you with more power and speed. The sound of flesh against flesh fills the room along with your cries and sobs of pleasure, desperately trying to match his rhythm still even as he all about takes full control.
He can feel you fluttering around him, the beginnings of your sixth orgasm creeping up on you, he loved that he had this hold on you. That he was the only one who got to make you fall to pieces like this.
"Do you hear how wet she is for me, Mesh'la" He groans in your ear and you do, you can hear how obscene it sounds as your cunt practically sucks him back in with every jut of his hips. "I'm going to fuck you full of me, would you like that hm? You want me to fill you up don't you? Have me dripping out of you all night long."
"Yes! Oh fuck yes. Din please!"
He pulls you back against him in his arms, driving into you with such ferocity that it has you dumb and pliant, unable to do anything but moan and take his cock.
"I've got you, Mesh'la. Cum for me, cum for me and I'll give you what you want."
With a silent scream, you do just that. Clenching so hard around his cock that his hips stutter and he quickly follows behind you, grunting in your ear as he spills inside you, coating your walls with hot, sticky ropes of his cum.
"Oh maker. Fuck... That was amazing..." Din murmur breathlessly behind you, slowly pulling out of your well used hole.
You whine quietly at the loss of him, feeling your combined releases dripping out of you.
You hear a soft hiss behind you, indicating that he's taking the helmet off, with a few shuffles as he sets it at the end of the bunk on the floor and then he's gently rolling you onto your back coaxing your legs to part.
It's a tender side that not many people get to see from him, only you and Grogu these days.
Pressing small kisses to your forehead as he cleans you up with what you assume is his undershirt.
"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum" it's a light whisper against your skin, you're already succumbing to sleep, exhaustion from the events of the day along with the love you just received from your mandalorian husband, you manage a sleepy whisper in return.
Behold - the Mando'a Dictionary, now properly armored!
My first attempt at this style was just the testing ground to bind this piece - and it turned out wonderfully!
The endpaper is chiyogami, and the cover is made with thin aluminium sheets wrapped around 1mm board, glued on top of the bookcloth (and slightly clamped around the edges) The spine is hot-foiled, and I am getting a feel for that as well, it looks passable.
It's the perfect pocketsize so I can always have it handy - I actually made this so I can better sprinkle in some foreign words when I am roleplaying a mando in Star Wars TTRPG.
All Mandalorians living after the Taung went extinct after the Mandalorian wars, can trace their ancestry back to a foundling—if they are not a foundling themselves. This proverb acknowledges the cultural status of foundlings as equal to blood-inheritance, emphasises tolerance towards new converts, and reinforces the shared gift and choice of being Mandalorian.
“This is a war,” Nield says. “In war, soldiers sometimes die.”
Jaster wants to shout or grab these children by the shoulders and shake them. Yes, soldiers die in war, but children shouldn’t be soldiers. He presses his fingers to his forehead and takes a deep breath. “Will you agree to let us take point and draw the enemy fire?”
“Duh,” Nield says. “You’re blaster proof and we aren’t.”
Myles’s shoulders are shaking as he keeps himself from laughing out loud.
-
“You’re here on Mandalore,” Walon tells him. “You are Obi-Wan Vau, and you are safe here with me.”
“Be’Walon’ad,” Obi-Wan murmurs. He is Walon’s child. He isn’t a slave. He isn’t Xanatos’s victim. He isn’t an initiate or a padawan or a general.
-
When Jaster and Master Windu enter the mess hall for first meal, Obi-Wan can’t quite keep the horrified noise from squeaking out of his throat.
“Give me your helmet,” Obi-Wan tells Jango. “I need to stop knowing this.”
“You aren’t allowed to wear beskar helmets,” Jango says, and his Force signature has spiked, embarrassment and hope and something that is too similar to want and pleasure for Obi-Wan to deal with right now.
“Your buir and Master Windu had sex last night,” Obi-Wan hisses, because if he has to suffer than everyone else does too.
“What?” Jango whips his head around so quickly, Obi-Wan’s amazed he didn’t snap his neck.
-
“Would it really be so bad if Jango and Obi-Wan were interested in each other? I’d think you’d be proud. Jango’s following your example after all.”
“You.” Jaster would point a finger at Walon, but he has a cup of shig in each hand. “Are the worst.”
Walon presses a button and the door to his room slides open. Jaster takes the hint and leaves, with less dignity than he entered with.
I am so sorry for how blurry and pixelated this is. Idk why it isn’t sharper, I keep trying to edit it but my shit is all fucked up so this is what the screenshot looks like I guess.
7. Blindfolds / Reluctant marriage, marital grooming, Occult!CotW, fingering, PiV, slight breeding kink, pwp, Winston Duke as Paz Vizsla (pls see the vision)
As of yet, you hadn't a moment to rationalize the whole of this ceremony; Most of it explained in a broken tongue.
You'd met your fiancé by chance -- by accident -- and with your alleged knowledge of their covert, came your permanent residence. He'd been amongst those helmed individuals that loathed your very presence, and when the bulky Mandalorian began to chafe his stern beliefs around you, it was already decided.
Paz had married you out of convenience, you surmised. From your understanding, no warrior within the Covert married outside of it, and for as young as it was, they were strict on pedigrees. Inbreeding wasn't ideal in the long-run for the future, but that was beside the point.
He wasn't straightforward with you about it, only claimed it would be safer for you under his sigil. If you weren't permitted to the armor, you were at least enabled that so-called 'right.'
The right to be brought to the Armorer for permittance.
The right to be protected.
Under unification.
You would never be allowed to leave if you remained as you were, but they'd never accept you as their own. A handful of warriors might think to finally get rid of you -- the threat and liability your very presence held within the Covert -- they might even think to have their way with you, prior to tossing you into the channel of magma flowing through Nevarro or dumping you in the middle of nowhere.
You weren't to be protected, not as an outsider -- you were nobody to protect -- that much was obvious. You couldn't believe that Paz would have pity toward you, much less any sympathy. Something in him must've shifted during that small window of time, because his proposal had come with a grace period.
It didn't take long for your decision to be made, -- not with such lacking options -- and you agreed to marry him, much to your chagrin.
The ceremony wasn't small by any means, the stone hall full of Mandalorians pressed together in a calico quilt of painted metals as they bore witness to the words that had been foreign on your tongue. You could remember the cold kiss of his helm to your sweating brow, the thunderous applause of armored fists on cuirasses and collective accompanying mantra of 'Vizsla, Vizsla, Vizsla!' , your new surname.
Now, you were stood in the center of the room -- your room, now -- feeling buck naked despite being fully clothed. Paz had tied a band of silk across your eyes, careful yet taut around the back of your head -- he claimed it to be customary until the marriage was consummated in its entirety.
You nearly asked how he'd know such a thing if his people never married a being outside of beskar, but you bit your tongue nonetheless.
Aside from the idle droning of the ventilation shaft overhead, you could hear the gentle clicks of his armor plates as he lumbered about around the room, working to remove each individual plate into a neat pile. A meticulous routine, yet a practiced one. You weren't sure what to do yourself, shifting from one foot to the other as you strained to listen to his movements, estimating what actions he was carrying out.
With a quiet finality, you assumed he's finished removing his armor and other utilities. A few zippers and popped buttons brought you to surmise he'd moved on to his flak vest and flightsuit, hearing the durable fabric crumple and chafe his skin as he slipped himself free of it. The whole time, you could feel his gaze upon your nape, heavy on your shoulders at the back of your head like a weighted shroud.
Your mouth was parched with anticipation, absentmindedly holding your breath in waiting as you tried to ward yourself from spiraling into your anxieties again. You tracked his hulking footsteps with pricked ears, letting your fingers flutter at your sides when he stopped behind you.
A gentle touch to the heel of your hand made you blench and your ears ignite -- ungloved and warm, it shocked you after living within the Covert for so many waning moons.
"I won't hurt you," Paz droned flatly behind you, his tone hopelessly inscrutable. He reached for your hand again, plucking it from your side carefully between three fingers.
They were long and calloused, dry against your clammy palm as he slowly pulled you to turn around and face him. You could imagine his broad outline behind the band of silk across your eyes, you could try to imagine the face that matched his voice, but each time, you'd fail.
You were sure he looked smaller without his armor on, but you couldn't imagine that, either.
Unable to hide from his unwavering gaze, you felt yourself shrink the longer you stood before him, your throat tight as Paz skimmed his smooth fingertips up from your sweaty hands, up your wrists and arms to the sleeves of the itchy cotton smock you'd been given. It was a war to swallow your own spit when Paz flattened his palms to your shoulders, slow-like, rolling his hands over your skin like he'd never felt anything like it.
For all you knew, that was in fact the case.
"Paz..." you tried, your voice nearly inaudible as you attempted to rouse his attention.
His only affirmation was a quiet hum as his hands drifted back down to your elbows.
It took you a spell to find your tongue again, waggling in your mouth before you spoke, "W-We don't... have to, I mean --" You gulped, eyes flittering behind your blindfold as you searched for the words that were brewing in your head. "I can just say that we did, and --"
Instead of responding, Paz began to walk you backwards. You'd been turned around just slightly, but you had the location of the short, stiff bed against the farthest wall.
"They'll know," Paz finally responded, keeping a hold of your elbows as the cold frame of the cot kissed your calves. "And my wife won't be a liar," he added, "you're a Vizsla, now."
You gulped hard, clenching your fingers into your palms as Paz's hands left you, returning to you just as slow as before as he weaved his fingers into your hair at the base of your scalp. Your heart rapped against your ribcage when he slowly balled your hair into his fists.
"You understand what this all means by now," Paz declared, angling yourself head back until you assumed your covered eyes met his gaze.
You were his.
Shrouded in the banner of his House, the vows spoken in a foreign, disingenuous tongue.
Together, you'd raise warriors.
You understood enough, and it was far too late to protest. You wouldn't make it two strides past Paz, armored or otherwise, he'd outmatched you thricefold. And even if you did make it out of the room, whose to say what the other Mando'ade in the corridors would do.
Return you? Reclaim you? Slit your throat?
You knew nothing; Akin to a babe, as the Armorer so eloquently put it.
Paz called your name, and wrenched you from your thoughts.
"I'll keep you safe," he hummed, a softness on his voice that you'd yet to hear. His venom returned just as quickly as you noted it's absence; "But only like this..."
Traditionalists.
You swallowed thickly as a pregnant pause lengthened between you, before giving Paz a stiff nod, balling your lips together as his fingers released your hair. His hands didn't fall away, however, instead framing your throat as his palms settled on the crook of your shoulders. The way his fingertips nearly met around your nape allowed you to gauge his size in comparison to your own, even if you hadn't felt his presence loom over you already, feeling his breath ghost across your cheeks.
It made your stomach flutter and flip irregularly in your gut.
There was only a brief moment for you to brace as you felt Paz's fingers curl at the back of your neck before his full lips pressed into to your own. You flinched back upon the terse contact, triggering Paz to act swiftly -- he must've thought you'd attempt to flee entirely -- his arms snapped around your back from your neck to hold you against his chest.
The kiss was sloppy, evidently inexperienced, yet wholly eager. You were bent backwards in Paz's hold, having to brace your arms somewhere, your hands landed upon his shoulders -- bare, hot-blooded, already damp with sweat, you could feel his corded muscle ripple beneath.
It was all too much at once.
Your attempts to squirm away were fruitless within Paz's grasp, his large hands splayed at your back. When his head cocked back for a breath, you sucked in your own quickly, unsure if you'd get another chance before Paz kissed you again. Better this time, you could note; Slower and less frenzied, you felt encouraged enough to try and reciprocate his actions, if only to show him what was right.
You slackened your jaw with pinched brows to return Paz's kiss, setting your lips against his own like a jigsaw piece as opposed to his full-contact on your mouth. When you focused on his bottom lip, and graduated to experimental nips, you could hear Paz's reaction as it filtered into your mouth with a small hum.
His grip tightened around your back, strapping you flush to his barreled chest that beat fervently against your own. The blindfold had aided in keeping you oblivious to his crumbling stoicism in the wake of his own nakedness after the ceremony. You weren't the only one in foreign territory, it seemed.
The urgency in his grasp seemed to disperse, his touch slightly softer now as he allowed you to lead the kiss, sweeping his hands down your back to hesitate at your hips. This wasn't going to get done anytime soon with that -- you had almost hoped he'd just take you and be done with it.
This was harder.
Attempting to be intimate toward a man you'd never seen, a man you hardly knew outside of his name and what Clan history he'd shared.
Your permission was granted with a reaffirming hum against Paz's lips, swiping your tongue across the seam of his mouth as his large hands finally descended to cup the globes of your ass. His touch was tentative, but not entirely yielding, his fingers kneading almost painfully into the flesh of your ass, the backs of your thighs, entirely bared for his access, had you tried to put up a fight.
"Ju -- kiss my neck," you interjected once Paz reeled back for another breath. He hesitated for another moment before ducking his head below your ear to inhale you deeply. His damp lips parted to peck your pulse, and you'd tilt your head upon feeling the coarse scrape of the beard on his chin, affirming him with a moan that was barely audible.
As he initially ravaged your mouth, he did so freely to your throat. Paz broke a hand away from your ass to grab a handful of your hair and peel your head back for his access, suddenly emboldened by your encouraging noises. His tongue laved broadly up the column of your neck before stopping to grate his teeth into your skin and soothe it with a kiss; As if he were sampling you while half-starved.
Your feet shuffled against the duracrete for purchase when Paz's fingers dipped toward your sex, curling your nails into his upper arms while you instinctively made an attempt to push away and gain some ground of your own. Hard to do with your legs pinned between a cot and a voracious, herculean Mandalorian.
"Stop karkin' moving," Paz grunted, craning your head back to suck a mark below your jaw, strumming his fingers over your vulva in an attempt to part you. Frustrated, he released your hair in favor of your nape, his fingers nearly wrapping around the front of your throat as Paz scruffed you. The tips of his foremost digits found your entrance already slick from your gestating anticipation, upon his discovery, a rough sound rumbled from Paz's chest.
"You want this," he required against your flapping pulse, pulling back to ogle you. As he did, Paz circled his fingertips over your fluttering hole, then up and down the slippery seam of you, investigating what made you writhe.
"No," you'd protest weakly; Paz, not entirely convinced, grumbled near your ear as he pressed a single digit into your entrance, feeling your sex flutter around his intrusion as he proceeded.
"Yes," the heavy Mandalorian nipped back his statement, sliding his other finger into place beside the other. The stretch was slight around his calloused phalanges, not painful just yet. "You may not want me, but this? Oya," he chuffed, working you to his knuckles with minimal movements.
You weren't about to argue the minutiae of your biology while in a position like this, biting your tongue when Paz began withdrawing his fingers from your cunt, hissing something foreign as your walls gripped him on the way out.
"Are you refusing me?"
His question sent a chill down your spine, settling in your gut with a cold dread -- your head was shaking erratically before the question could marinate in the air.
"No --" you began your firm protest, and whatever words you'd planned to let spill from your tongue were promptly silenced when Paz was on you again. With indubitable ease, he'd stooped down to hook one of your knees up as your other leg was swept away by the edge of the cot. The thin mattress hit your back with a muted thump, groaning under your weight as Paz joined you.
His presence was a mass over you, unsure where he started and ended as you kept your arms close to your chest out of habit. You could feel him brace a hand beside you as the other swept up the underside of your thigh from your knee, bringing it over his hip as your breath subconsciously accelerated.
"You're fine," Paz placated you haphazardly.
You felt the cot shift slightly as Paz leaned back, hearing a rustle of fabric as he opened your legs across his thighs, skimming his hands along the insides; You could feel his gaze ogling your sex, flushing from the notion. His thumbs pulled back at your lips with a thoughtful hum as you swallowed thickly, ears pricked for any hints.
"Show me," Paz said next, and you swore you felt his eyes rake up your body to your face, followed shortly by his hands as he peeled your smock up over your breasts, pushing away your arms as he dis. He must've noticed your silent fish-like gaping as he slowly elaborated, "Touch yourself, show me."
A few beats passed in your silence until you snaked a hand down between your legs, past the burn of your embarrassment as you glided your fingers over your damp folds. Balling your lips in the ringing silence, you let your touch descend to your entrance, dipping your fingers into your sex in more of a display than anything. The width of your two fingers didn't hold a candle to Paz's, and you opted to bring your sampled arousal back up to your neglected clit, drawing tight, slick circles around your bud.
It brought you some comfort, passing your fingertips around your most-sensitive area for about a score; You nearly forgot Paz was even there, if not for the quiet heaviness in his breath. Eventually, the 'schlick' of his damp hand over his cock reached your ears, the sound recognizable to your seasoned ears. A quiet moan wrenched itself from the center of your chest, accompanied by a slight tremble in you leg as you quickened your pace around your swelling bud of nerves.
When Paz brought a hand down on your thigh, your legs jerked and your pace faltered until he squeezed your flesh so hard you might've bloomed with bruising. You'd jump again when you felt that hand descend to your fluttering entrance to join you, and even as your ears filled with cotton, you could hear Paz conquering the groans that accumulated in his chest as he pleasured himself in tandem.
"Elek, elek..." which to your mild understanding meant 'yes' in his tongue, encouragement as you found your desired pace again; Even as Paz pushed a thick finger into your seizing cunt.
Your back arched off the bed, effectively steering the pad of Paz's finger into the tender patch at your front wall, an unbridled keen spewing past your teeth as you bucked into your own hand as it scrambled to stay on-target. Paz was struggling himself it seemed, his presence feeling closer than before as he loomed over you, feeling him watch your half-hidden face as he coaxed his fingers into that spot with earth-shattering precision.
The tension in your core wound up, and up, until you were fumbling for purchase -- on Paz's wrist, on the mattress -- but that cord snapped before you really could, opting to ball-up the cushion under your head in your grip as you careened over the edge. Mouth gaped in a silent scream, you arched and shook with relentless, stunted breaths.
Paz ripped himself back like you'd burned him, and you hardly had a moment to articulate your tongue before his own was pressed between your teeth. With a haggard moan into your mouth, Paz settled over you, babbling praise and curses in that nonsensical language against your lips whilst knocking your legs apart.
"Ori'jate, karking well done, riduur --"
"-- Did s'good, tenn: open," Paz commanded between his fervent kisses, already pressing the fat head of his cock to your entrance as you jerked with aftershocks. You hardly had time to process what was said with your brain buffering, much less his next course of action, until Paz was mounting you, pressing his fat cock into you slowly.
Your arms jerked, grabbing ahold of Paz's arms while your jaw fell open, squirming between him and the bed to avoid the heavy split of his manhood as Paz carved his new ownership within you; Coaxing your walls to conform around him. He was almost too much once he was at the hilt of you, and even then, you couldn't feel the warm press of his thighs flush to your own, nor the coarse hair at his base; Meaning, he likely wasn't even in all the way.
Just as you made that realization, Paz was reeling back agonizingly slow with a rough groan until the tight ring of your sex snagged the flare of his tip; Then Paz was pressing back in again, rolling his hips back and forth to coat his painfully thick member with the evidence of your arousal. His hands found their placement around your thighs, kneading into your pliant flesh, you could feel his gaze zero-in on your breasts as they swirled upon your chest with the punctuation of his hips.
He wasn't excessively rough or relentless, but by the Maker, Paz was damn persistent. Still taut and trembling from your first, you were quickly approaching the second as the head of his cock continuously pummeled that spot within you.
Hard to miss it, hung like that.
"Hnmmhh! Paz, I --" your words were barely audible, snagged out of your throat as Paz rolled into you, dragging against your taut, spasming walls with each thrust. "F-Fuuuck! Jus' like -- don't change, oh~~"
A ragged moan ripped itself from Paz's throat as your head craned back in ecstasy, buckling down from his arm onto his elbow, his hips now slapping against your own as he increased his pace with your unbridled verbal encouragement. He'd seemed to get the hang of it easily enough, you'd muse to yourself. He was slurring overhead in Mando'a, now, and eventually you'd feel the damp crown of his head against yours, muttering a mantra that was rather familiar to you.
"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum-Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum-Ni kar'tayl gar daras --" over and over until you were wailing in the wake of your release, a raging monsoon swirling in your gut as your walls clamped like a vice around him, locking down and slowing the smooth glide of his cock to a trudge as Paz pushed through your release.
"Warriors, cyare-- verda, w-we'll raise-- Hng! Skrag --!" Paz punched out, you felt his abdomen tighten against your seizing stomach, followed by three punctual thrusts. Your riduur was reduced to ruin as his climax collided with him, and you swore you'd felt his cock jump with each generous spurt of his release deep within you.
Delirious and exerted, you didn't protest when Paz gathered you into his shaking arms with a groan, and you hardly noticed when the cool, damp silk was peeled away from your eyes. He hadn't uncoupled from you yet, letting himself soften as he clung to you, peppering affectionate kisses across your brows, blowing cool air over your dewy hairline, humming a sigh as he kissed your eyelids.
Only then did you think to open them, swallowing hard while your eyes fluttered to focus on Paz, dark brown eyes blinking back at you, framed by a glittering umber face that split with a nervous grin as you finally realized what you were looking at. Your husband, your riduur; Paz.
"Su cuy'gar," he chuckled with a slightly mischievous edge, the genuine humor in his voice taking you aback as your eyes flitted over his handsome features. Awfully criminal to keep a mug like his hidden behind a Creed.
"What's that?" you chuffed, shifting yourself weakly as Paz maneuvered your bunched-up smock the rest of the way over your head to toss beside the bed.
"Means 'hello,' " Paz surprised you as he answered immediately with gusto, his arms going under your back once again to roll you over along with him; It allowed you to get some air as Paz kept you full. "Also means, 'you're still alive,' " he added with that small chuckle of amusement from before.
Seeing Paz barefaced and laid out, vulnerable and the baritone of his arrogant amusement -- it went straight to your pussy with a brief clench that made him hiss.
"Ulyc, ner riduur," Paz drawled, letting his hands traverse from your back to your ass with the promise of another go. "Nuhoyir for now..."
You'd understand his language in time; Through his guidance you supposed, as Paz cupped the back of your head to lower you to his chest, still pounding beneath your ear. Sleep? Rest? One of the two; There was a lifetime to stress about it now...
Footnotes : This did NOT feel as long as it turned out, but yet again, i was roosting on it for a while. hi guys back with another abhorrently late update to this promptlist i foolishly subjected myself to. Next up is TECH how exciting not rlly his diction makes me feel like a dumb hillbilly. anyway ! hope yall enjoy, more to come !!!
