Chapter Text
When you accepted the Mandalorian’s meek offer to join his crew, you’re not sure what you expected. What you wanted, perhaps, was adventure, a chance to see the galaxy, to meet sentients on countless planets. What you wanted was a change of pace from the desolate planet where you’d grown up and had never left. He more or less crash-landed near the inn where you worked and you had gone out of your way to help him when you left your spot at the front desk to see what the commotion was about.
You watched the hatch open and held in a gasp when you saw him. You had never seen a Mandalorian before, had only heard some stories and honestly, you didn’t know they still existed. Yet there he was, descending the ramp, doing a double-take when he saw you already standing there to meet him with your arms crossed, still holding the datapad you had been skimming while you were bored out of your mind at work.
“I need a mechanic to look at this,” he grumbled, when you asked what the problem was.
“Well, you’ve got one right here,” you answered before rolling up your sleeves and lifting your chin. He tilted his head at you. You would later learn he did that a lot.
After further inspection, you learned that one of the engines was busted and the hyperdrive was malfunctioning. You sat on the floor of the ship during your preliminary tinkering, only to nearly jump out of your skin when a tiny, clawed hand grasped at your exposed arm. You were ready to shoo away some animal that crawled into the hull when you were met with enormous black eyes, similarly sized ears, and green, wrinkly skin. Your heart melted at how cute this tiny being was, dressed in an oversized brown coat.
You were startled a second time when the Mandalorian appeared behind it, silent despite being covered in metal, picking up the creature, ignoring its baby-like whines of protests and little arms reaching down to you.
“Sorry, don’t mind him.”
You realized it would be rude to ask what it was so you settled with “Who is that?”
“He’s a kid,” the Mandalorian answered, like it was a complete explanation.
You figured it’s none of your business and changed the subject. “These repairs are going to take a few days. You’re welcome to stay at the inn where I work.” You’re not sure why you offered, but the pair seemed like they could use a warm bed and a hot meal.
“That’s very kind, but I prefer to…wait you work at an inn? I thought you said you were a mechanic,” the Mandalorian asked, readjusting the squirming boy in his arms.
“I am a mechanic, I just don’t exactly have a business,” you said, feeling small all of the sudden as this stranger towers over you. “I’ve been fixing ships and speeders my whole life, though, I promise I know what I’m doing. Besides, there’s no one else for miles.” That last part wasn’t necessarily true but you never got to do this type of work and this was a challenge, it excited you.
The Mandalorian stared down at you without saying anything for a moment. “How much?” he asked.
“Two hundred credits,” you said, hoping you sounded confident.
“I mean for the whole thing,” he said, sounding annoyed.
“Two hundred,” you repeated.
“Why?”
You shrugged, looking down at your greasy hands. “You’re doing me a favor, I hate my job and I’d honestly rather fix things, but I never have the opportunity.” A wave of self-consciousness washed over you and you felt ridiculous. This man probably thought you were pathetic for charging such a measly fee, you opened your mouth to tell him to forget about it but he surprised you.
“Deal.”
You looked up and smiled at the dark visor, your eyes moving to the baby in his arms when he let out a giggle. It was the most delightful sound you’ve ever heard.
The Mandalorian and his son ended up staying at the inn. You wondered if he wasn’t allowed to take his helmet off in front of other people because he always asked for their meals to be sent up to the room. You never saw him eat but the child ate constantly like the growing boy he was. When he wasn’t eating (and sometimes while he was), he was often keeping you company while you did your repairs. You loved having him with you, responding to his coos and gurgles earnestly and letting him hold small, non-sharp objects when he looked like he wanted to help.
You were surprised when his father sat near you one day but you supposed he wanted to keep an eye on his ship. You were even more surprised when you got him to talk. He didn’t talk much but he was very different from the silent, intimidating man that you had expected upon meeting a member of the famed warrior race. You learned that he was a bounty hunter, that he wasn’t originally from Mandalore, but rather a foundling raised by Mandalorians, but not much else. Nevertheless, you enjoyed his company, and you felt a little bit sad when you realized your time fixing his ship was coming to an end.
When the day came, the three of you stood in front of his newly fixed ship and he nodded in approval as you knocked on the side of it. The Mandalorian set the meager credits in your palm, and you thanked him, patted the child on the head, ready to turn around and walk back home.
“I get in a lot of scrapes,” he blurted out.
“Huh?” you asked, confused.
“I run into a lot of trouble in my line of work, I…I can do basic repairs but not much more,” the modulator in his helmet must have been making you hear things because he sounded almost unsure of himself. You furrowed your brows at him, wondering why he was telling you this.
“I could use someone like you on my crew. You did a very good job, your work is worth much more than what you charge. I can pay you what you deserve.”
You couldn’t believe this was happening. All you had wanted was to leave this planet and he was offering you a perfect job.
“The kid likes you, too. I can’t always take him with me on jobs, so I could use someone to take care of him when I can’t. If you’d be okay with that, of course.”
The child had wormed his way into your heart in a few short days. How could you say no?
“Give me an hour to pack.” You said, not bothering to stop the wide grin that appeared on your face.
So yes, you expected adventure. A challenge.
What you never expected was to fall in love.
Something about the elusive bounty hunter was irresistible to you. At first you thought it was just lust from proximity, that it was inevitable for you to think about someone like that because you lived together and spent most of your time with him. You’d be rocking his son to sleep and watch the Mandalorian while piloting the ship, paying attention to the way his hands gripped the controls, wondering how they’d feel gripping your body. You wondered if he was even human—you hadn’t seen a single speck of his skin yet. He appreciated your mechanical abilities and your maternal instincts toward the child, who you’d grown to love dearly. He was respectful of your space, your privacy, your time. He paid you well, and he always knocked on your door. He was polite if taciturn in all your interactions.
You realized his feelings for you when Mando encountered a rival bounty hunter who was evidently after the same quarry. He hadn’t even started the main part of his hunt yet, was trying to find information in the small town and brought you and the kid with him, knowing the risk of danger would be low. The other bounty hunter, who was clearly a newbie after a bounty above his paygrade but had an ego the size of the Death Star, confronted Mando and started to threaten him for getting in his way. Mando was ready to talk things through, split the bounty or make some sort of deal but the other man immediately became overaggressive and proceeded to do the one thing he shouldn’t have, grabbing you around the neck and pointing his blaster under your chin while the kid watched in horror from his pram.
Mando handled it quicker than you could even keep up with, disarming the man before knocking him out cold, not giving him another thought as you shook in fear from the encounter. You didn’t know how to fight, you didn’t need to because Mando never brought you on hunts—you had to watch the child. He never expected the other man would pull such a stunt. You stood in shock and before you could move, you felt two large arms wrap around you, pulling you against his beskar-covered chest. It was oddly comfortable, and you buried your head above the cuirass into his cowl. You felt the hands on your back trembling but…no. That was just you, right? You were the one trembling, not the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec.
He pulled back, moving his hands to hold your face, making you look up at his visor. “Are you hurt?”
You reached one of your hands up to cover his, shaking your head and turning to nuzzle into his palm. It felt so good to be held like this, so good to be cared for that the fear from the event left you instantly, replaced with warmth and comfort.
The Mandalorian quietly suggested that you three get back to the ship, leaving the quarry for the next day and you agreed, walking alongside him while his hand was placed firmly over the small of your back. He had started touching that part of you when you two were in a tight space and he had to get around you, but you never thought he meant anything by it.
That night, you two talked for a bit before Mando carried you to his bunk, undressed you, took off his gloves, and made you come twice with just his fingers, the whole time telling you in that sexy, low voice of his how good you felt, how beautiful you looked under him, listed all the things he was going to do to you next time. You wondered how his lips would feel against yours, but settled for pressing kisses against the hands that had just made you feel so good—the hands that would always protect you.
You and Din had discussed children a few times. You learned that children were particularly important to Mandalorian culture, and when he explained the circumstances of finding the kid, you knew how important children were to him, personally. He told you about how taking care of the kid sparked something in him because he was past the age where he thought he would have children. Something had been missing from his life, but now you and the kid were there. But there was always room for more, right?
After those conversations, when the two of you had sex, all you could think about was taking the next step with him. In your marriage vows, you did promise to raise warriors, after all. So you decided to bring it up.
Your husband had you on your hands and knees and was thrusting into you steadily, a favorite position of his, especially when the two of you first started being intimate and there wasn’t face-to-face contact on your end. When the helmet came off, you were nearly always facing him to make up for the kissing you hadn’t been able to do before. But still, he felt so fucking deep like this and you loved how dirty it felt to have your ass spread for him.
He pounded into one particular spot that felt like the very end of you and you leaned forward and moaned, gasping for air when you felt his hand wrap around your throat, gripping firmly but not squeezing, and pull you up against his back, grinding into you as you whipped your head to the side and put your hand over his.
“You look so pretty with my dick inside of you,” he hissed against your temple, before nuzzling into your hair, one hand trailing up your body to tweak your nipple.
“Yeah?” you said, finding your voice again, “I bet I’d look even prettier with your baby inside of me.”
You felt his deep exhale against your skin immediately, his hand dropped from your throat, and you would have thought you misjudged the situation if it weren’t for the fact that his cock throbbed inside of you. His thrusts had stopped and you enjoyed how heavy he felt resting inside of you.
“What was that?” his voice sounded hoarse, almost like he was injured. You figured that was either really good or really bad, but you couldn’t back out now, couldn’t unsay what he had clearly heard, so you continue.
“I want to have your baby, Din,” you lifted your hand to smooth his messy curls from his forehead, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder and look him in the eye.
He stared at you for a few moments, eyes dark, before pushing you back onto the bed. You groaned at the loss when he swiftly pulled out but no sooner was a large hand on your shoulder, flipping you onto your back while your husband sat on his heels, your legs spread on either side of him.
“Is that what you want, my riduur?” he growled, hands grasping the tops of your thighs, “Want me to fill up this perfect pussy? Give you a baby?”
His hands slowly stroked up and down the meaty part of your thighs, and the steady movement was a strange contrast to his frantic words, the desperation on his face, like the galaxy would crumble if you didn’t get pregnant that night. His cock was wet and stood at attention right above your pussy and you didn’t know why he wouldn’t just move already.
His hands suddenly moved to the backs of your thighs and you yelped as he shoved them upwards until your knees touch your chest. He sank into you again and started pounding at a pace you’re not sure you’ve felt for a long time. Sure, he liked it rough, as did you, but this was something else. This was a man ready to split you in half, whether it was from your body being bent over itself or from his huge cock inside of you, tearing you down the middle. Tears were forming at your eyes and it felt so good, all you could do was throw your arms around your husband’s back and grip his shoulders as hard as he was gripping you—there wasn’t a chance there wouldn’t be bruises later.
“You take my big dick all the time and you’re still so fucking tight,” he grunted out above you and your hamstrings burned as you hooked your knees over his shoulders and he turned his head to plant a kiss on your calf. “Can’t wait to hold onto your big, round belly when I fuck this slippery pussy, feel my baby kicking around in there.”
You whined, unbelievably turned on by his words, and suddenly an image popped up in your head of you riding your husband while heavily pregnant, his hands roaming up and down your large belly and heavy tits. The thought of it snapped the chord tethering you to reality, and you clenched hard around Din, that wet pussy he loves so much getting even slicker as you came.
Your head was in the stars and you could faintly register Din shoving his face into your shoulder and pumping into you unevenly before he let himself go inside of you. You could have sworn the warm pressure he released went all the way into your stomach, he felt so deep, but that thought cut off when he collapsed onto you, pressing open-mouthed kisses onto your neck and shoulder. You stroked the curled ends of his hair, damp with the sweat on his neck while he continued to show your body love, kissing down to the swell of your breasts and taking a nipple, soft with the heat between you two, into his mouth.
You gasped at his clever tongue, not expecting him to want to go again so soon. His sucks on the now-hard bud weren’t even lazy but calculated. “Oh, honey, give me a second?” You pleaded, giving his hair a gentle tug.
Your husband rested his cheek on your chest and looked up at you with those big, brown eyes you love so much. You fell in love with him long before you ever saw those eyes, but when you finally did you wondered how you managed all that time not being able to meet his loving gaze.
“I can’t wait till these are filled with milk,” he said, trailing his hand down to squeeze the breast he wasn’t resting on. “You’re going to look so pretty.”
You were suddenly very aware that his body was curved awkwardly and he was still inside you, even soft. You wanted his seed to take so badly, would spend the rest of the night with your hips tilted back if it meant you’d get pregnant, but you weren’t exactly sure if that’s how it worked.
You tugged his hair and gently pulled his head up so you could kiss his crown. “I love you.”
Din adjusted himself so he was eye level with you, leaning in to give you a searing kiss. “I love you more, cyar’ika,” he murmured against your lips.
The happiest day of your life by that point was when you and Din had stood in the hull of the Razor Crest, taking turns holding the child as you said your marriage vows to each other, once in Mando’a, and once in Basic. The two of you performed a gentle kov’nyn before Din’s shaking hands removed his helmet. You were speechless, taking in his features, the crinkles around his eyes, the curve of his large nose, the patchy hair spread across his jaw. He was perfect. Your perfect Mandalorian.
You didn’t think anything could top that, but somehow you were even happier the day you asked your husband to take off his helmet so you could see his reaction when you told him that you were pregnant. He had the most gorgeous smile already, but that day it was so bright you thought the sight would blind you. That night, after the baby was fast asleep in his pram, Din took you to bed, murmuring praise into your skin in between sucking marks on your neck, your shoulders, your breasts, anywhere he could reach. He was deep inside of you, hitting that spot so perfectly and telling you about how much he’s wanted this, how beautiful you’ll look when your belly’s grown, how you’ve made him the happiest man in the galaxy.
You could barely catch your breath, and once he came inside of you he only needed a short break before he was ready to go again, watching you bounce in his lap as he grabbed at your tits. He stared at your chest that was level with his face with an expression that your sex-hazed mind could only describe as reverence before taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking hard. That wasn’t unusual for him to do at all but it made you realize how sensitive your breasts were. You weren’t looking forward to the aches and pains of pregnancy, but this…this you could get used to.
You didn’t see your husband’s face the first time he held Cerra. She didn’t either because she was sound asleep. She was born in the newly relocated covert on Pamarthe, a rough-and-tumble Outer Rim planet, and Din told you that even though you three were alone in the room, he only felt comfortable taking his helmet off in the Razor Crest. As long as Cerra had contact with her father, neither of you were worried about waiting another day for her to see his face.
“She’s perfect,” he said, ungloved fingers smoothing over the dark fuzz on her head. It had been an odd few days, Din Djarin arriving unannounced at the covert with a pregnant non-Mandalorian riduur was a situation you would have been more inclined to feel awkward about if you hadn’t been concerned with giving birth. Luckily, the single midwife there was as lovely as could be, and your labor went relatively smooth.
“Do you think her helmet is hidden in the afterbirth somewhere?” you asked, surprised you could make a joke with your exhaustion. His visor stared at you and you just laughed at your own words, shoulders shaking.
“Maybe she won’t be a warrior, maybe she’ll be a comedian like her mother,” Din said drily.
“We promised we would raise warriors. It was in our vows,” you reminded him.
At this point in your relationship, you knew him well enough to know he was smiling under the helmet. “How could I forget,” he mused.
The kid loved Cerra as soon as you introduced them. Before she was born, Din had sat him on his knee many times and told him about how important of a job it was to be a big brother. You weren’t sure how the first meeting would go, but the kid reached one green claw out to touch Cerra’s tiny hand, then giggled when she grabbed it. Your heart felt like it would burst, seeing your two babies together for the first time.
Money was still a problem. You would never ask Din to give up his bounty hunting ways because it was the only thing he knew how to do, and you still had to search for the kid’s people—fuel for planet-hopping wasn’t free. Your pregnancy had been a surprise and the timing wasn’t great, but no time would have ever been good. You all still lived on the ship and Din made sure to baby-proof it as best as he could (though, when one of the babies can move objects with his mind, only so much can be done). It wasn’t ideal, and you weren’t sure what to do once Cerra got older but for now it would do. You had your family and that was all that mattered.
You were happy you had the kid beforehand, so you knew a lot of things about caring for an infant once Cerra came along, but she presented her own challenges as a human baby. The first few months after Cerra’s birth you felt like a bantha the way you sat around all day nursing her. How was it possible for a tiny baby with a stomach the size of the kid’s favorite silver ball to eat all the time? You knew it was good for both of you to breastfeed rather than bottle feed but you felt like Din never got any time with her. It was as if any time he decided to hold her, she was suddenly hungry again and handed back to you. You also felt like you weren’t giving the kid enough attention either. Breaking off pieces of ration bars to hand to him to eat wasn’t nearly as personal as how you fed Cerra, and a few times when you tried to hold him in your other arm during a feeding session, he would just distract Cerra by trying to play until you set him down and gave him a toy.
Cerra was about three months old when Din scored a particularly hefty bounty. It was more credits than your family had seen in ages, and his injuries were only minimal, worth it, he insisted, though you disagreed. When the credits were transferred, he told you to splurge the next time you were at the market. The three of you that weren’t on a diet of breast milk were relieved to lay off the veg-meat and polystarch for a while, finally getting some fresh produce and meat that wasn’t jerky. Unfortunately, this led to a little accident.
While your husband had a variety of vibroblades and hunting knives, you only had one culinary knife, and it was rather large and sharp, as well it should be. You were in the kitchen slicing a meiloorun for you and the kid to share when you heard the pitter-patter of tiny clawed feet nearby. You gasped when you glanced beside you and saw the child standing on the counter farther down, opening one of the cabinet doors.
“Ad’ika,” you started sternly, turning your head to the little womp rat, “you don’t stand on the counter. If you need something, Mama will get it for you.”
You heard a giggle in reply, then a bowl fell on the floor and shattered. The sound made you jump, your hands jolting, the enormous knife slicing across the back of your left hand before you knew what was happening. The meiloorun juices mixed with your blood and you screamed as you dropped the knife on the cutting board and clutched your hand to your chest, falling onto your butt and curling into yourself, too afraid to look at the damage yet just in case you sliced your fingers clean off.
Bless your little boy, he squawked and was immediately at your side, jumping down that frightening height from the counter like it was nothing and staring up at you with his huge eyes, his ears drooped. He knew you were hurt and wanted to help, but you didn’t let him. He closed his eyes and started to raise his hand up and you mustered enough sense to scoop him in your one good arm and carry him swiftly to his pram, dropping him in, and closing the lid. You scurried over to Cerra’s crib to make sure your scream didn’t wake her, relieved to find her sleeping soundly. You swore she could sleep through anything.
You eventually found the courage in yourself to let go of your hand, your sleeve damp with blood and sweat from your other hand gripping it so tightly. You realized then that you may have overreacted—there was a lot of blood but your fingers were still intact. When you tried to flex your hand, pain shot up your arm, and moving your fingers elicited the same reaction. You would have to get it looked at by a professional, but right then, you were fine. You found the ship’s medpac that you were all too familiar with when helping Din with his various hunting wounds, but it had been a while since its contents had been used for you. You smeared bacta on the large gash before wrapping it up with gauze and tying it in a tight knot over your palm.
You went back to retrieve the child from his pram, a pang of guilt at his confused face after you pressed the button on the front. Definitely not your best parenting moment.
“I’m sorry, baby, you’re not in timeout, Mama just needed you out of the way for a second,” you said, kissing the top of his bald head and resting him in the crook of your arm with the bad hand. “Do you want some meiloorun? Let’s get some.”
You went back to the mess in the kitchen and handed him a small slice before you threw away the slices that got covered in blood. You looked at the shards from the broken bowl on the floor and realized maybe you shouldn’t be rewarding the kid with cuddles, but you felt bad about turning away his help. You munched on your own slice of the sweet fruit and wonder if Din would be back that day. He said he would be, and it had been several days that he’s been after the bounty, so the chances were high. All you could do was wait.
Sure enough, six hours later, after both the babies were bathed and are starting to wind down for the night, the ship door opens, revealing your husband beautifully silhouetted against the multiple setting suns, dragging a less beautiful, struggling Rodian behind him. You’re feeding Cerra and turn away from the two while Din readies the carbonite freezing chamber. You had never breastfed in front of anyone other than your family, and while feeding in the middle of a busy marketplace probably wouldn’t faze you, it seemed wrong to let one of Din’s bounties witness something so personal. You turned back around when you heard the hiss of carbonite, already seeing the child waddling over to greet his father, who got on one knee to scoop him into a hug.
“Are you hurt?” you ask, and his helmet shakes as he stands up and makes his way to you and Cerra, stopping to rest his hand over your own that cradled the baby’s body. You had learned soon after giving birth that Din loved watching you feed Cerra. He had told you that he thought you looked so powerful nourishing her with just your body, that it was intimate and beautiful and he felt blessed that he could watch a moment of bonding between his two favorite girls. He strokes his hand over yours again, and when you hiss at the contact, he then notices the bandage.
“What happened here?” his hand leaves yours and occupies itself with stroking one of the child’s ears.
“Oh, it’s silly. I was cutting a meiloorun and this one,” you say, gesturing to the boy Din was holding, “startled me, and I sliced my hand.”
“Sliced? How bad is it? Will you let me look?” he starts to sound worried.
“I used bacta and wrapped it up but I can’t really move my hand or fingers.” You weren’t holding Cerra with that hand, she was just resting on your arm as she ate.
“Okay, I have another puck but I’ll wait until you’re healed to go after it,” he says, finally lifting up a hand to take off his helmet.
“Din, don’t worry about me. It’s just my hand, I’ll manage,” you assure him.
He shakes his head, his helmet hair sticking in every direction. You love the sight.
“No, we have two children, you need both your hands for them.” He has a point. You’re both silent for a moment, and his eyes drift back to the baby at your breast.
“We missed you. All of us,” you say, quietly. Din tugs one of his gloves off with more force than was frankly necessary and surprises you by gripping your chin and pulling you in for a deep kiss, mindful of the baby between you two. Heat pools in your belly, and you hope the children will go to bed easily so you could show him just how much you missed him.
“I missed you, too. You three are all I think about when I’m out on jobs,” he says after pulling away, letting his hand wander to Cerra’s loose curls. She pulls off of your nipple and looks up at her father, a large smile on her gorgeous, chubby face. A matching smile spreads on Din’s face as he traces her cheek with a finger. “Hi, ad’ika. Don’t let me stop you from eating.” She starts to reach out her hand to him and you sigh, knowing she wasn’t going to relatch until Din left the room.
“Why don’t you put him to bed,” you suggest, nodding at the child in his arms whose eyelids were growing heavy, “while I finish feeding her. She’ll probably be out right after this, too.” Din nods and leaves you by yourself while you coax your daughter with your other breast and pat her on the back as she starts to empty that side. Over her noisy gulping, you hear armor being removed and scrubbed.
Once Cerra was swaddled and in her crib, you pad towards the rustling you hear coming from the tiny kitchen where you find Din, sans armor, preparing a ration pack.
“Oh, Din, we have fresh food now, remember? You don’t have to eat that poodoo anymore,” you remind him, standing with your arms crossed in the doorway.
He looks up at you and shrugs before taking a bite of the polystarch bread, frowning at the bland taste. The most interesting thing you learned after marrying Din was how expressive he was, which made sense after spending nearly a lifetime not having to control his face around others. Still, it was a little surprising that your strong, stoic, bounty hunter of a husband could make such goofy faces without thinking about it. “This is quicker and I’m hungry.” He’s silent while eating, and you approach him, hugging him from behind and pressing your face between his shoulder blades. He smelled of sweat and the sand and dust from the planet where he had been hunting, but you didn’t care at the moment, just wanting to be close to him.
“I missed you so much,” you repeat, voice muffled by his shirt, “Why don’t you shower and then come to bed with me.” Din turns around in your arms and kisses the top of your head, sighing into your hair before pulling back, his nose slightly wrinkled.
“Do you want to join me? I think your hair could use a wash.”
He had basically just called your hair gross but you chuckle because he was right. You’d been so busy with the kids you’d been putting off your own cleanliness.
“It’ll be hard to do with one hand,” you say, holding up your bandaged hand for emphasis.
“Let me wash it for you,” he insists, smoothing his hands over your locks. You can’t deny that you like the sound of that.
The Razor Crest had a tiny ‘fresher and an even smaller shower. It wasn’t roomy but you and Din both managed to fit, it’s not as if you minded being pressed up against his hot, wet body. Everything starts innocently enough, your husband’s rough hands massaging your scalp as he works shampoo in your hair while you keep your bad hand out of the spray. He does the same for himself and washes it out quickly before tilting your head under water, running his fingers through your hair again to get all the suds out. You turn your head as he plucks the bar of soap from the dish and lathers himself up to wash away the stench of another hunt, admiring the expanse of his chest and stomach riddled with various scars and marks that were proof of what a warrior he was. You were pleased to not see anything new at least on his front.
The look of concentration on his face while he scrubs his body makes you giggle because it’s the same one he makes while bathing either of the fussy babies in the small sink. He meets your gaze and rolls his eyes at your amusement. “What are you looking at?” he teases, lifting his left arm up while he drags the soap across his shoulder blades, and you bite your lip at the way his arms and chest flex with the movement.
“There’s this sexy Mandalorian in my shower, and he’s got this amazing body and the prettiest brown eyes,” you say, your face heating up and your core starting to ache just from watching your naked husband wash himself. He smirks and shakes his head.
Din rinses himself off before focusing on you, preferring to lather up his hands instead of dragging the bar of soap across your body. “You take such good care of me, such good care of the children. Let me take care of you,” he murmurs into your ear. You lean your head back until it rests on his shoulder and he rewards you with a heated kiss as he runs his hands down your sides, before smoothing up your belly and cupping your breasts. His slippery hands made quick circles around them, stopping to pinch at your nipples, hard despite the heat of the shower, then going back to giving the soft flesh gentle squeezes. You had new stretch marks on your breasts since your pregnancy, but you didn’t mind when Din obviously didn’t. Since you’ve started having sex after Cerra was born, he’d stayed away from touching that area, but he didn’t have the same reservations tonight. You briefly wondered why, but ultimately didn’t mind because it felt so damn good.
Din seems to remember that he was supposed to be washing you and breaks off the kiss to continue his task, squatting down to scrub your legs and feet then giving your ass a little swat as he stands up again and presses kisses across your shoulders. You feel him stirring against your backside as he takes your breasts in his hands again, covering them in soapy suds like you were in a pornographic holo, smiling shyly at the holorecorder while washing yourself.
“Is this okay?” He asks. The juices between your legs certainly think so.
“Of course,” you say, making sure your bandaged hand was firmly between the two of you and out of the spray, placing your good hand over his as he starts to knead your tits again, giving your nipples a pinch that made you hiss, your toes curling as pleasure shot down your body.
“All those days without my wife’s soft, perfect body against me. I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” he growls against your cheek, his grip on your wet flesh getting tighter. You loved when he referred to you as his wife when he praised you. It was simply a statement of fact but you always had mixed feelings about marriage when you were growing up and never imagined you would be so happy being a wife. You were his and he was yours, your heart soared when he introduced you as his wife to new people, and you always felt a wonderful shiver when you called him your husband.
“Mmmm I miss when you’re away, too. My fingers can only do so much. They don’t split me open like your cock,” you gasp out, reaching behind you to take him in your hand, warm and pulsing as you give him a few lazy strokes. Fuck, you want him to press you against the wall and fuck you in that tiny shower.
And that’s when you feel it: the pins and needles sensation around your nipples. The blissful grin on your face drops in horror as you let go of the cock in your hand abruptly and place it back over one of Din’s, trying to pry his hand off your tits.
“Ah, Din, wait! Oh…oh no,” you realize you were too late.
Din let go of you as if you burned him and asks what happened. Instead of answering you just step in a circle to face him and look down at your breasts. His eyes follow your gaze to the large white drops beading at your nipples, hanging onto the tips for a few seconds before sliding down the undersides of your breasts. You’re not sure how you didn’t feel it before, but now you realize how hot and heavy they feel, how the flesh didn’t give as easily under Din’s touch.
“I’m sorry,” you say, quietly, covering your face with your hands. You finally get some alone time with your husband and your body has to kill the mood.
“Hey, hey, cyar’ika,” you hear Din’s soothing voice right before you feel his hands grab yours and pull them from your face. “Hey, don’t hide. It’s just a natural reaction.”
“I thought she’d drank everything,” you give your right breast an experimental squeeze, seeing even more milk dribble out this time. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to pump.” You look back up at Din, expecting a look of disappointment (or even disgust, a dark, insecure part of you thinks) on his face but instead find…intrigue? His eyes are glued to the firm breast that your hand is still cupping and you nearly gasp when his tongue darts out and licks his lips.
One of his large hands reaches to your breast and cups it over your smaller one, his thumb swipes at the nipple, smearing the dots of milk across it. He looks fascinated, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. When you tear your eyes from his expression and look further down his body, you see that his erection hasn’t gone away at all, in fact a drop of pre-cum was steadily travelling down the curve of his generous length.
“Can I…” he nearly croaks out, not finishing his sentence before you nod. You think you know what he’s asking and it’s something you would have never thought of before, but you can’t help but admit the idea is fascinating. There are few things that you would deny Din and this is not one of them.
He cranes his neck down and hesitates only slightly before attaching his mouth to your nipple. Your clit throbs as he sucks experimentally, giving your breast a squeeze, and sure enough you feel the milk flowing from your nipple, the flat of his tongue licking against the hard tip and catching it. He lets out a sinful moan around your breast and you remove your hand from your body to clutch his wet hair as he sucks again, eager for another taste. He pulls off and his eyes dart to your other breast, milk dripping steadily now before he moves his head slightly to lick it up like it was melted ice cream running down a Cerean cone, making eye contact with you as he sloppily cleans your chest.
Din straightens up slowly, and you notice a dribble of milk running down his lip onto his chin, and before either of you can say anything, you grab the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss, licking into his mouth hungrily, trying to taste yourself from his tongue. You had tasted your breast milk before, just once after pumping, you took a small sip from one of the bottles out of curiosity, but nothing could compare to the taste of it from your husband’s mouth. Without breaking the kiss, Din reaches behind you to turn off the water, kick the shower door open and carry you out of the ‘fresher into your shared bedroom, not stopping to grab towels and dry yourselves off. Clearly, he’s a man on a mission, and you hope that mission objective is to make your cunt ache.
Din switches on the lights and you hear the swish of the door close behind you two right before he practically drops you onto the big mattress that you had carefully picked out soon after you two started sleeping together, no longer satisfied with tight fits in his bunk meant for one person. You leave a wet spot on the sheets where you lay as Din kisses down your chin and neck, the whole time kneading and squeezing your tits until milk runs down his hands, letting out a growl deep in his throat at the sight.
“You taste so sweet, cyar’ika, I love it. I love it just like I love tasting your gorgeous cunt. You taste perfect,” he says, his already husky voice lower than normal, before catching your breast in his mouth again and sucking hard, nearly biting your nipple in his effort to drink your milk. You press your feet flat on the bed, your knees on either side of him, bracing his body against yours as he continues to drink from you, only stopping momentarily to switch to the other breast. You barely recognize the sounds coming from your own mouth, gripping his hair firmly with your good hand while leaving the other resting limply on the bed. You had never come from nipple stimulation alone, not even when they were extra sensitive while you were pregnant, but that could change tonight. You also notice how he didn’t tease your nipples the way he normally would, carefully circling them with the tip of his tongue, no he fit as much of your breast in his mouth as he could, your nipples nearly on the back of his tongue as he attempts to suck you dry. Clearly this is for him as much as it is for you.
Din lifts his head and watches your breast fall from his mouth, enjoying the way it bounces before playing with your tits, pressing them together, rolling your nipples across his fingers, grabbing handfuls and shaking them up and down, watching in delight as the milk continues to flow. He squeezes your nipples roughly and you both gasp as milk squirts into the air in several tiny streams. He repeats this action and you watch as droplets of milk land on your chest and run down to your collarbones, land on your stomach, some even landing on your face. Din rubs his hands over your wet tits and runs them down your belly before gripping your thighs that were resting against him.
“Look how messy my little wife is. I love making a mess of you,” he groans, a smile spreading on his face. He wasn’t going to stop until your whole body was covered in your milk. Fuck, why was that so hot?
“I love these tits so much,” he says, grasping them again with his big, sticky hands and grinding that thick cock against your thigh. “I watched them get nice and plump while you were pregnant, I had no idea they would get even bigger after the baby was born. Fuck, do you know how hard it is not to do this every time you pull your fucking shirt down for a feeding? It’s been driving me crazy, seeing those big veins, how they look like they’re about to burst,” he punctuates with another squeeze to your nipples, eliciting another loud whine from you and another squirt of milk that this time lands on your husband’s face.
“Din, you can, mpmh,” he lazily circles your left nipple with the tip of his tongue, “you can have a taste at the end of the day. Just ask.” He looks up at you with those eyes that can get so big, looking like he was pleading with you.
“Yeah, you want that? Want me to help you with these when they get too full? You’ll never need that pump again while I’m around. This milk may be for the baby, but it’s my turn now,” he insists before another harsh suck on one breast and a smack on the other. Your face is burning and you are writhing even with his broad body covering you. You swear you’ve never been this turned on in your life—your cunt feels like it’s on fire and your slick is getting all over Din’s belly, probably dripping on the bed too. You’d have a dozen babies by Din if it meant you never stopped lactating, if it meant he never stopped worshipping your body like this.
Suddenly you feel your abdomen seize up, your cunt squeezing around nothing as you grind up against Din’s belly, wishing he would fill you with his cock already.
“Din, Din, I’m about to…fuck!” He knows what’s about to happen, so well-versed with your body and you dig your nails into his shoulder as his hot mouth surrounds your nipple, one hand squeezing the same breast in an effort to get more milk into his mouth. You cry out as you come, focusing on the weight of your husband’s broad frame resting over you even as he pinches at your nipples, making you gasp for air. Your body is overheating even as you come down, sweaty and sticky with milk and you just want Din’s cock, to make him feel the same pleasure that he so readily gives to you.
He lets up off of you and balances himself on his elbows, and you swear the trickle of milk that escapes from his mouth and drips into his stubble is the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.
“At least now I know I can make my wife come just by sucking these gorgeous tits.” His smile is smug, but soon disappears when you pull him down for a deep, milky kiss. You lick inside of his mouth, loving the sweetness of yourself directly from his tongue again.
“I need you to fuck me now,” you insist when you two break apart, rubbing your center against his belly, now even wetter after an orgasm, if that was possible. Din sits up and pulls you into his lap, your back against his chest, and he cups your breasts in his hands again, squeezing your nipples downwards to spray milk on your belly.
“Oh, honey, I don’t know how much more I have in me,” you whimper and cover his right hand with yours as he continues his efforts to make you as messy and sticky as possible. The tug and stretch of your nipples would normally border on painful, but you were now very used to it due to your little one—you were sure your nipples were never going to be small and perky again, not that it mattered. You look down at your body and you love when Din holds you in his lap like this, love the way his large, tan hands looked against your skin, thick fingers playing with you. You watch as the milk collects in the rolls on your stomach that appear when you slouch, watch it drip all the way down into the thatch of hair at your mound. Din has his head on your shoulder, intently watching the action too.
“What if I put another baby in you right away,” he mumbles in your ear, causing you to gasp, “so I can watch your milk drip down your round belly, fuck, you would look so gorgeous. Just thinking about your leaky tits makes me so damn hard.” Yes, you could feel the evidence of that pressing against your ass. Another baby would require a serious discussion but you can’t deny how much his words turn you on.
Suddenly, he lets you go and pushes you on your back, running his fingers through the milk all over your belly and spreading it further down, swiping it over your neglected labia. You moan at the much-needed contact, so finally ready for him to touch you where you truly ached. Din kneels between your thighs and his eyes never leave yours as he licks a stripe up from your asshole to the tip of your clit, collecting the wetness there that had made a second damp spot on the sheets by now. Lapping up his fill, your husband closes his eyes contently while he presses his nose in your folds and inhales deeply, his tongue peeking out to lazily circle your clit after a moment.
“My beautiful girl and her perfect pussy and her sweet, sweet milk,” he muses before kissing up your mound and resting his chin on your belly. “What do you need?”
“Din!” you whine, your head falling back as he forgoes preamble and slides three of his fingers in you, you’re wet enough and he knows it. “I need your big cock, please!”
He obliges, sitting up and pulling you on his lap again, this time facing him, letting you hang the arm of your bad hand over his shoulder and grip the other tightly, positioning yourself over him before sliding down easily, taking him all the way with a single wet sound.
He feels perfect after all that buildup. Your breasts are stinging but your cunt had been nearly untouched and no one knew how to fill you up like your Mandalorian. Your brave, brash, warrior of a husband who was also the kindest, most gentle (well, with you) person you knew, the man who you loved more than anyone in the galaxy, who made you feel nothing but safe and secure with a simple touch, a nod of his head, a word of reassurance. You wondered when you’d stop feeling this way in his presence, just simply in awe of him, unsure how you got so lucky as to cross paths with him, to bear his child, to love and be loved by him.
“Cyar’ika,” Din starts as you steady your feet on the bed and circle your hips, “my riduur, I love coming back to this, coming back to you,” he holds your face in his hands while you start to bounce on his cock, and the way his face scrunches in pleasure makes you even wetter. His teeth grit and nose wrinkles as you slide along his gorgeous length, making sure he feels every dip and ridge of your cunt as you squeeze around him. You have to let him know what he was missing while he left you alone, left you to touch yourself and turn to the hot and heavy memories you two shared. You hope he did the same while he was gone.
Your husband pulls you all the way down to his lap and rolls his hips into you, moving his hands to your ass to grip tightly, making sure you don’t budge as he grinds against your heat. “This…ugh, this fucking pussy is so greedy. You get so slick for my big cock every single time. You love it so much you just drip with it, and fuck, I love those little noises you make when my cock hits that perfect spot, I love making you moan and scream,” he punctuates with a twist of your sore nipple, making you shout and clench around him. His hand leaves your ass for a moment before giving it a hard smack, making you clench again. “Fuck yes my good girl, squeeze my cock just like that. You’re so fucking perfect,” the last part escapes Din’s mouth as a mumble before he kisses you furiously, his nose squishing into your cheek, and you can’t believe the man below you called you greedy when he’s busy doing a thorough exploration of your mouth with his tongue and grabbing handfuls of your ass and hips while you ride him, like he would burst into flames if he wasn’t making you feel like the most desirable woman in the galaxy.
It’s messy. Your kiss is messy, your body is messy with milk, your lower half is soaked and your fluids have dripped all over Din but you love it. Love how passionate he is, how he doesn’t mind how filthy you get as long as you feel good, has even told you how much he loves seeing you with his semen on your skin, saliva dripping down your chin after a good blowjob, wetness coating your thighs when you’re ready for him to fuck you. His fascination with your milk doesn’t seem so surprising now—your husband loves mess.
You break the kiss and lean forward to start grinding your clit against Din’s pelvis, spelling letters with your hips, your thighs starting to burn. Din kisses down your neck and your collarbones, and you hear him pause and take a deep breath against the top of your chest, no doubt loving the faint, milky scent that still clung to your skin. He stares down at where your bodies meet before moving his hand from your ass to push you back a bit from him and rub your clit. His rough fingers do the trick and soon you’re coming hard, your cunt spasming around his thickness as you continue your motions through your orgasm and you can tell Din is distracted by the way your breasts bounce in his face, see him wet his lips again while watching you. Maker, he already wants more.
Once you stop gasping for breath, Din takes the opportunity to lift you off of him and push you onto your back, spreading your legs open and plunging back into you. You’re too out of it to do more than whine with every thrust, content to let him chase his own release while your muscles feel like jelly, but one of his large hands cupping your breasts brought you back to your senses when he begins to knead it again.
“Do…do you have any more?” he asks, gasping, and the look in his eyes is so desperate that it shoots straight to your pussy. This man is begging for a taste of you and while you would never refuse, you’re not sure what you have left in your body.
“Um, m-maybe,” you manage to stutter out before lifting your much smaller hand to play with your breasts one at a time, pinching your hard nipples. Din’s thrusts slow and become uneven as he watches you. He grunts so loudly that you look up from your chest at him, and he has his bottom lip between his teeth and his face is flushed—you know he’s close now. His hand envelops yours over your right breast and squeezes firmly, and you moan obscenely as you once again feel the prickle in your nipples signaling your letdown. Your husband grins as he sees the milk bead up and before you know it his hot tongue is covering your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. His other hand stops gripping your thigh and moves to play with the opposite breast while he continues to suck through sloppy thrusts before groaning into your skin while he comes.
He’s so fucking warm inside you, his mouth and hands like a furnace on top of your breasts, and you slip your hand out from under his to hold onto his head as he comes down from his high, stroking his damp hair as your milk continues to flow for him. He pulls off your nipple with a popping noise and rolls off of you, settling into your side. You move to close your legs but feel Din grip your knee, holding your leg still, and he looks down your body, watching his cum drip out of your tender pussy that now feels bereft of him. Your husband presses a sweet kiss against your forehead as his hand runs along your chest and belly, not groping or pinching, but feeling you.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to shower again. I made a bit of a mess of you,” he says, fingers swirling over the dried, sticky milk that covers you.
You feel your face go hot when it hits you again what the two of you just did. “Din, I, um…I knew you liked my tits but…wow.”
“I don’t even know what happened,” he admits, his voice still slightly out of breath. “You just started leaking in the shower and I…I had try it. I didn’t think it would taste that good. It’s so sweet,” his gaze is on your breasts, still covered in milk droplets.
“I never thought that would be something I’d be into,” you answer, turning to your side to him, purposefully pressing your breasts together, “but maybe we could do this again. If you ever want some, just ask.”
You see his eyes dart all over your features, your puffy nipples up to your swollen lips, your face covered in sweat, hair a mess above it. “Fuck, cyar’ika, just looking at you is going to make me hard again,” he says, swiping his hand over his face.
“Oh, that’s what turns you on?” you purr, crawling on top of him, straddling his thigh and pressing kisses into his chest as his strong arms wrap around you, “You like me when my pussy is sore and you’ve sucked my tits dry? When you’ve made me feel so fucking good that I could swear I became one with the Force? When your cum is dripping out of me and you got my whole body sticky? That’s what makes that big dick get hard?”
“Your pussy is sore?” Din asks, concerned. You’re quick to shush him.
“In a good way, I’m okay.” You bite your lip and give him your best doe eyes. “But this new fascination of yours gives me a great idea. Next time you fuck me so good that my pussy is out of commission, you can try fucking my tits,” you declare, sitting up and pressing them together with your arms, rocking back and forth a bit to make them bounce as your husband stares at you with his mouth slightly agape. “And we can use lube, or you can get me all wet with milk again and see if that will work.”
“Fuck…” he mumbles, pulling you down into a tight hug with your head snugly underneath his chin, “You’re so perfect, you know that?” You hum into his chest, would be content to fall asleep right there if you didn’t have to clean yourself.
You finally haul yourself off of his warm body to do just that, padding to the ‘fresher while still completely naked, knowing both children were still fast asleep, then wet a small towel and proceeded to wipe yourself down with it, able to do that one-handed, at least. You stare at your body in the small mirror, taking in the many changes to it since becoming a mother. The added weight to your belly, your nipples now looked stretched and hung lower than before, courtesy of your daughter’s hands-on eating, the stretch marks on your breasts and hips, even a few on your stomach. Normally, you frowned at your new appearance, or just tried not to look at your naked body if possible. But now you could see how Din had loved it, the bite marks all over you, the slight bruising on your hips from where he held you so hard, the swaths of skin hot to the touch on your breasts and ass where he had smacked the thicker flesh. You were divine to him, and you could see the proof all over your body.
Din was still laying on the bed when you return and you throw the wet towel at him so he could clean himself. He wipes down and sits up to watch you unfold the spare set of sheets for the bed, making no move to get up so you could change them.
“What are you looking at?” you ask, throwing his words from earlier back at him.
“This beautiful, naked woman just appeared in my bedroom so I’m looking at her,” he says, turning onto his side and propping his head up with his hand.
You roll your eyes, “Well get your ass up so I can put new sheets on the bed, I think we made quite a mess of it. And help me out because I still only have one good hand.”
He finally stands up and helps you make the bed. Before you can lay down he goes to your side of the bed and wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a deep kiss. You kiss and kiss and kiss him, never one to turn down attention from your husband. He’s insatiable, he’ll fuck you until you can’t see straight and then he’ll still want more.
You pull away from his lips eventually but stay in his embrace, happy to let him guide you into bed and under the covers—the blankets are warm but nothing is more comforting than your Mandalorian’s arms around you.
“Thank you, cyar’ika. I’m so lucky to be your riduur,” Din says softly into your hair as you start to drift off.
You smile and press a kiss to his nose, one of your favorite features on his handsome face. “I love you Din. Thank you for loving me, too.”