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#din djarin
absurdthirst · a day ago
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Blue Crush {Mando x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 5.7k
Warnings: Sex Pollen, dub con, vaginal sex, rough sex, Mando being filthy, cream pie, multiple orgasms. 
Comments: On your Name Day, Mando decides to land an on a planet to try to do something nice for you. Things turn out far different from the hot meal in a cantina he was expecting when instead of a village, you find a large growth of the plant that gives you the sex pollen, blue crush. 
A/N: Happy birthday my beloved @storiesofthefandomlovers !!!! My thotty partner in crime and other half of my soul. I love thotting with you and sharing dirty ideas and writing, just generally bitching about life together! So happy we found each other on this hell shit! Have a great day love!
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Name Day. It wasn’t important to Mandalorians, that much was obvious. In the eight months since you had become a part of Mando’s crew, you hadn’t learned much more about him than he wasn’t going to tell you his name.
Everything you learned had been from observation. His name to everyone was Mando, even you in the privacy of the Razor Crest when it was just you and him watching the stars streak by under the canopy of the transparisteel. The carbonite racks down below full of men and women who could not hear even if he had whispered his name through the modulator of his shiny beskar helmet.
You knew he likes the spicy broth packets, those were the ones that disappeared first after he left you in the cockpit to go below and eat. Never allowing for the two of you to take your meals together. He was forbidden from removing his helmet in front of another living being.
You learned he likes to let people do the talking for him. Sitting silently to see what nerves or the need to fill the silence will make a person give up. He uses it often, only speaking when it’s completely necessary and often short, clipped sentences. Sometimes you wonder if he had forgotten how to converse like a normal human.
He is human, you know that too. His blood is crimson when it leaves his body from the gashes and scrapes he comes back to the ship with when a quarry has been particularly troublesome. Although he is always dragging the one he went out looking for back. Either pushing them forward to walk ahead of him or dragging their body by the cuff of the ankle. Five fingers in the gloves that were always covering his hands and you could assume there were five toes In the boots he wears.
Often you ramble, talking about different things that were on your mind or things that you had seen on whatever planet you had just left. He didn’t tell you to shut up, often the slight tilt of his helmet would tell you that he was in fact listening to you but he rarely commented or added to the one sided conversations.
Still, the silence hasn't stopped you from developing a crush. Desperate and real despite never seeing his face or much more of his skin than a jagged tear when his flight suit was torn, you lust after a man you would never have. So many nights you spent muffling the sounds of your whimpering while your hand was between your thighs. Imagining what he would feel like. You had even imagined those thick, gloved fingers stuffing you full while that impassive visor was pointed towards you, his panting breath nearly unheard over the modulator.
So today, when you wake up with the familiar rumble of the hyperdrive filling your ears and giving the inner hull that your bunk was shoved against a small vibrating rhythm, you knew that today was going to be just like every other day. Hunting bounties, refueling and tracking down the next quarry that was assigned to him on the pucks that Greef Karga had given him on the last stop to Nevarro.
You shouldn’t be disappointed. Mando isn’t a bad employer. The pay is generous and he always pays on time after he gets paid by Karga. He provides the food and literally the bunk you had created for yourself in a corner of the cargo bay. He had spent hours stacking and securing the cargo boxes he had into walls so that you had a modicum of privacy. So he didn’t do birthdays? Was it that big of a deal?
You rationalized that in reality, the harsh reality of the galaxy you lived in, it wasn’t. Not when your life was dusty planets, meal ration packs eaten alone and a bunk that wasn’t really a bunk. Making sure blasters were tuned or that the Crest is ready to take off when Mando comes back is more important than birthday recognition.
Still, your heart drops a little. Nothing to look forward to beyond the normal routine. You get up and close yourself in the ‘fresher, staring at your reflection over the small sink and sigh. One year older. Another year has passed, and this year - at least the last eight months - has been better than the previous one. Eeking out a living on the slowly dying planet Mando had found you on.
Quickly cleaning up, you take a ration bar and make your way up the ladder. You would take your pleasure in having one of the sweet fruit bars instead of the normally drier ones. The silent swoosh of the doors to the cockpit greets you with a small blast of air to your face. You wonder if Mando feels it through his layers.
He’s already there. Seemingly always in the cockpit when you come up. The blinking lights of the cockpit and the bright streak of stars reflecting on the silvery shine of his helmet. His head turns slightly but he is quiet as he reaches over and flips a switch on the panel to his left.
There are times that you wonder if it’s nerves that makes him continually make adjustments to a system that technically is flying itself. Habit or boredom making him try to perfect the nav-computer’s input. There is no need to adjust, the Crest’s system would keep the ship on the correct heading unless something went wrong, something broke to drop you out of hyperdrive. You just honestly believe that Mando likes to be in control at all times.
“Morning.” You mumble, slumping into one of three seats in the cockpit. Mando doesn’t answer you, instead he just turns to the star chart and starts going through the system you are in.
You can’t help the small sigh that slips past your lips. Another pang of heartache and sadness wrenches through you and instead of dwelling on it, you busy yourself with opening the small ration bar. The crinkle of the wrapper is the only sound that is in the cockpit beyond the normal hum of the ship.
“Happy Name Day.” You mutter under your breath to yourself before you take a bite of your bar. It tasted like honey and jorgan fruit. The sweet oats are less chalky on your tongue than some of the others that Mando insisted be the bulk of your diet. It was easy to store, lasted forever and was a quick meal to bolt down to give you body fuel. You guess that since he spent very little time with his helmet off, things like taste didn't really matter to him.
Caught up in your self pity, you don’t notice that Mando’s helmet had turned towards you, his finger freezing over the star chart as he looked for the planet the next quarry was supposed to be located on.
You munch on the bar and stare out the transparisteel. You could possibly break apart that new blaster that Mando got with the capture of the last quarry. You knew it was filthy and needed a good scrubbing. No one seemed to want to keep the plasma cartridges clean and the carbon scoring out of the barrels, and the Empire wondered why their Imp were shit shots.
It was either that or reorganize the cargo crates and perhaps detail what rations flavors you do have left. It sounded like a fantastic Name Day to you.
You don’t notice the planet that Mando has pulled up right before the star chart screen goes dead. “Dank Ferrik.” Mando grumbles, sighing as he flips the button for the screen off and on, punching another button on the panel to try to get the screen to come back to life.
“I told you we needed to replace the star chart system three cycles ago.” You only sound about a quarter as snarky as you want to. Mando turns his head and the dark t of his visor is pointed at you for a moment. You slump back into your seat and cross your arms when he turns back to the dark display. “Well I did.”
Mando gives this very put out sigh and he mutters something under his breath that you can’t quite catch. The star chart is a giant index of all the planets in the galaxy. It tells you if it’s populated or if it’s uninhabitable for some reason. While you can still get around without one, it was a hell of a lot easier when every single bounty bounced the Razor Crest around the different systems.
You decide to give him some space, knowing that he will most likely be fiddling with that system until it either decides to start working or he gives up and actually listens to your advice. Sometimes it seemed like he didn’t until something was literally falling off the Crest, making you wonder why he had hired you on.
Making your way down to the cargo hold, you ramble around, going back over to your little area and folding your blanket and neatening your cot. You didn’t have much, didn’t require much but you wanted to keep things neat.
Time seemingly passes fast, before you realize it the engines change. You feel the Crest shudder slightly, the hyperdrive disengaging and you feel the ship tilt. You’ve obviously reached the next quarry’s location and are landing.
You wait until the vibrations of the ship tell you that you’ve broken atmo on the planet and are setting down. There is a slight jostle as he sets the landing skids of the ship on the ground and you hear the pressure of the lines being released, bleeding the recycled air out of the ship and replacing it for the oxygen scrubbers to clean it of any toxins or pollutants.
You wipe your hands and walk out from your little nook. Expecting to see Mando coming down the ladder and digging in the weapons cabinet to restock the detonators on his belt or grab the ambien rifle to sling across his back. You’ve always loved the way he looks with that buttstock sticking up over his shoulder.
Instead you see him climb down the ladder, turning and pausing when he catches sight of you. He fiddles with his vambrace almost nervously before he steps toward the control panel on the side cargo door.
“There should be a village, about three clicks away.” Your brow lifts in surprise at him, he normally never tells you where he is going to track the quarry. Unless he wanted you to have the Crest ready for a quick departure when he comes back, anticipating trouble. “Hopefully they will have some good food.”
Food. Your stomach growls at the idea of a hot meal that was fresh that doesn’t require opening a packet. Then again, you had never had Mando offer to take you for a meal at a cantina or whatever they might have anywhere you went. Eating was not a priority for him under the best of circumstances, but to have him not talk about the bounty and discuss food beyond needing to buy more ration packs? Unheard of.
You must have shock and confusion on your face because Mando shifts slightly, uneasy. It was something you had noticed after a while of traveling with him. When he was uncertain of himself, mainly when you were sharing personal things, he would shift slightly.
“It’s your Name Day and I-” Your breath catches and you bite down on your lip while tears threaten to form in your eyes. He knew it was your name day? Or had he heard you mutter to yourself with the supersonic hearing in his helmet. It didn’t much matter, it was more that he cared enough to do something special for you. “I thought you might like it.”
“That’s- thank you Mando.” You reach out to touch him, above the vambraces he wears. Where the only thing covering his body is the thick material of his flight suit. “The village? What do you know about it?”
Mando sighs and reaches over to push the button to lower the ramp of the ship, the squeal of the hydraulics telling you that you might need to flush that system as well sometime soon. It slowly opens and locks into place. “I’ve never been here. The star chart didn’t come back up, but there is a large heat signature that way.” One gloved hand lifts and points out towards the west. “Just stay by me until we figure out if they are friendly.”
You nod, biting back a grin at the slightly sulk in  his tone. You want to say something about the star chart system but the prospect of Mando taking you out to celebrate your Name Day is too good for you to annoy him into changing his mind. Instead you wait for him to start down the ramp, watching his cape sway slightly as he moves forward with steady and sure steps.
****
The planet is lush, the greenery and vivid colors of the vegetation reminded you of some of the other planets you had visited with Mando over the course of your employment. Oftentimes you were stuck near the ship, but this time was different. You felt like you were joining him on a hunt and you noticed that his normally fast, sturdy strides are changed up for a more leisurely pace.
“It should be close, right?” You ask, still not hearing any of the normal sounds of civilization. No noise from a market or building, none of the hallmarks that would tell you there is a town close by. You had been walking for a good distance and he had said there was a large heat signature close by.
Mando pauses, reaching up to press a button on the side of your helmet. You have often wondered about the view that he has. The fact that he apparently can see heat signatures makes you flush with embarrassment, hoping there isn’t a function that allows him to see through walls. Or in your case, stacked cargo crates.
“We are close.” The orange tip of his gloves points over a ridge. “Should be right over there.” He fiddles with his helmet again and turns towards you. He drops his hand and starts walking again, leaving you to trail after him and watch the movement of his shoulders and gentle sway of his cape.
Hurrying after him, you imagine what kind of food they will have. If you are lucky, there will be something sweeter available. Maybe a cream cake was in your future, you think, making your mouth water at the prospect of that. Of some cold spotchka in a clean glass.
You both reach the top of the ridge together and you blink several times as you look down at what is supposed to be the heat signature to indicate a good sized town.
Plants. Large and beautiful plants litter the floor of the small bowled valley beneath the ridge. It’s amazing how you weren’t able to see this until you were standing right here. The leaves of the plants were large, purple with red veining and there was a vivid bluish purple cone shaped bud at the center of each. A flower? You wonder if they bloom.
“Well this isn’t a town.” You grin up at Mando’s visor “I told you that we needed to replace the star chart.” You tease him before you step forward.
“Wait-” His hand shoots out to reach for your wrist. “It’s not- I’ve never seen these plants before.”
You shrug, unconcerned with that fact. There were plenty of plants that have not been widely seen across the galaxy. “That’s okay.” You check a small device clipped to your belt, your atmo indicator. “Air is normal, so I don’t think it will kill us.”
He lets go of your wrist and you step forward, feeling Mando hover behind you as you make your way forward. There is a slight sickly sweet scent to the air, oddly pleasing but has the ability to be overwhelming if there was too much of it. Like too much of the old lady perfume that seemed to hang in clouds around the gaming tables on Canto Bight.
“They’re gorgeous.” You breathe out, admiring the plants. If the colors of the leaves could be so stunning, you couldn’t imagine how breathtaking it would be to see them bloom. The violet cones bursting with color and you wonder if the petals inside were the same color as the exterior of it they were another bright hue.
Looking over your shoulder, you smirk at the way that Mando seemed to step cautiously, visor scanning the area. Obviously the plants were giving off the heat signature, you can feel the warmth radiate from them like a hot fire. Although, in Mando’s case, caution equaled survival a lot of times so you can’t blame him.
The plants were huge, nearly chest high and when you reached them, you stepped into the field of them in delight. It tickled the back of your throat and you hum, the scent and almost taste of them vaguely familiar. Like a fevered dream, you know you’ve caught a whiff of it before, although much milder.
Later, much later, you will dwell on this moment as the one that started the cascade effect. Up until the moment your fingers reach out to touch the smooth, silky sides of the bud you were okay. There was time to stop it, but you didn’t think that the cone would burst open, exploding in your face and encasing your vision in a cloud of blue pollen.
It sets off a chain reaction, the silver beskar figure of the mandalorian disappearing behind a wall of blue, erupting like a cloud from the hundreds of plants around you. Coughing as you inhale the pollen, gasping for air that isn’t filled with the thick, cloying scent - your eyes widen when you realize what the hell is swirling in the air all around you.
“Shit!” Mando’s coughing off to your left, making you reach out blindly. The scent, now bolder and heavy in your nose and throat tells you that you are in trouble. Real, painful trouble because you know just how a small dose of this makes people react. “Dank ferrik.” Waving your arms around you as if it would keep this from happening.
“What is this?” Mando demands, reaching out through a cloud of pollen to grab hold of your wrist again and pull you to him.
“Blue crush.” You gasp out, trying to cover your mouth and nose but there is no use. Blue molecules of the plant's spores cling to you, covering your face, landing in your hair, on your clothes and you know you inhaled a large quantity of it.
You had only experienced the pollen in a synthesized form, a tiny amount of it used in the little blue pills that were given out in some of the brothels around the outer rim. Blue crush was huge in the inner rim circles for the orgies that would be held.
It’s sex pollen, pure and simple. You feel your temperature spike and heat shooting through your core. Your skin starts to become sensitive, making you pant at the tight grip Mando has on your wrist, blood pounding against the pads of his gloved fingers and you feel like you need him to both stop touching you and promise to never let go of you.
Blue streaks coated his beskar, clung to the dark fabric of his flight suit and you can see his own chest expanding and falling rapidly beneath his armor.
“Fuck.” He spits out the word, obviously aware of what the effects of blue crush are. Even as your clit throbs at the rough way that he says the curse.
Your own breathing gets heavy, unable to completely catch your breath. Your blood rushing through your veins setting your entire body on fire and you feel your cunt start to ache, a knot appearing in your stomach. Making you ignore everything but the need that is starting to build inside of you. You let out a soft moan.
Mando groans, the sound one you’ve heard when he is in pain, often bloodied and bruised but this time you know it's not from some external injury. The front of his flight suit is already starting to tent, the large bulge showing what his own dilemma is.
Whimpering at the sight of that straining fabric, your eyes meet his visor, the pressure on your wrists increasing until nearly painful. “Go.” He chokes out, letting go of your wrist and nearly pushing you back. “Go! R-run back to-to the sh-ship.”
“Mando-” You shake your head, making more of the pollen flutter around in the air as it shakes loose from your body. “We- we are-” Your sex is swollen and already drenched, pulsing with the very heartbeat in your chest.
“Go!” He hisses, gloved fists clenched as if he is fighting himself. “If-if I catch you-”
It’s a threat. A glorious threat that makes your cunt bottom out and a moan wrenches from your lips. His entire body jerks in response to the sound and he takes a nearly ominous step towards you.
“We can just-”
“I won’t be gentle.” He grinds out, dark and harsh. His tone tells you that he won’t show you any mercy. “I c-can’t be.” A low groan comes out of his modulator and he jerks his head back up to the ridge. “Go!”
“If you catch me- I’m - it’s okay.” You promise before you whirl around, panting as you start to run. A fissure of fear licks up your spine even as you want to stay and see exactly what he means. Instead you plant your feet into the earth and try to put distance between the two of you.
Time seems to slow down, scrambling up the ridge back to where you were standing just moments before seems to take hours. The soles of your boots sliding on the ground, pushing through the soil before they find purchase and lets you leverage it to climb back up.
He’s behind you. Your blood pressure spikes and adrenaline surges through your system at the cat and mouse game he had unknowingly set up. He didn’t know that one of your dirtiest little secrets was that you wanted him to hunt you down. You had always wanted to know what it felt like to know that he was after you. Now you are finding out it’s thrilling and terrifying.
The urge to just stop and let him take you now is making your heart pound even harder. Nearly bursting in your chest while you make it over the ridge and start running for where the Crest is sitting. Your legs pump and your arms churn, breathing heavily while you hear him. The heavy tread of his boots on the ground behind you as he gets closer, the hunter with his prey in sight.
Your feet get tangled up, tripping over a boot and the ground is rushing up at you until you feel the force of striking it push the air around your lungs. You hear him groaning, nearly growling as his hands grab at you.
He was right, he’s not gentle at all. A nearly inhuman sound comes from him while he pushes himself up from where he is on the ground and climbs up on top of you. The weight of him pinning you down, the hardness of his beskar covered thighs while he clamors higher, his arm braces over in the middle of your back.
“I- fuck” You can feel the pulsing against your lower thigh and you moan like a bitch in heat. You can’t help yourself, you are dripping and fuck if the fact that he just drove you to the ground in a desperate need to fuck you. “Tell me no.” He demands, voice strained and raspy beneath his modulator.
You could cum from that voice alone. The deep timbre and the way that he is trying to hold himself back. Your cheek is against the ground and your fingers pull at the grass beneath you. “Please, Mando.” Your tone is needy and begging. Your entire body is on fire and you feel like if he doesn’t fuck you right now, you are going to cry.
He literally steals your breath with how fast he moves. The air whooshing back into your lungs when he moves his arm off your back and shifts. His feet have hooked around your legs and he widens them, spreads your legs and his fingers snatch your trousers down, the relief at the cool air rushing over your hot cunt briefly satisfying you.
He rocks back, the sounds of fabric rustling as he digs his cock out of his flight suit has you nearly salivating. “Mando, please.” You whimper, body tense and screaming for relief while the hot ache of desire spears into you like a knife. “Hurry.”
You can’t push your ass up, the way he pins you down prevents it but you know you would present yourself to him if you were able. Wondering if he sees how wet you are, how your cunt is already pulsing and you haven’t had any stimulation whatsoever.
Your heart pounds in your chest and you moan when you feel the blunt, weeping head of his cock against your skin. Wetness smears across your cheeks as he pushes himself down to position him at your slick entrance.
Fingers rip at the grass, pulling it out from the roots while your scream is loud and raw when he breaks you open. He was right, he isn’t gentle. There is no easing into you. One moment he is positioning himself between your thighs and the next he is ripping you in half on what must be one hell of an impressive cock.
His groan is nearly as loud as your scream, his grip on your body hard enough to make tears spring up in your eyes but you don’t know if they are tears of pain or relief. Probably both. The modulated sound of his breathing is loud, prickling your consciousness while you squirm under him, his hips still shoving forward as if he is trying to still feed more of his cock into you even though you know he is buried to the hilt.
It soothes even as it stings. The exquisite feeling of being filled taking away some of the ache in the pit of your stomach. Your walls are snug around him, pulsing and your feet try to kick back but he has you firmly pinned to the ground, nailed to it with his cock.
You whine, afraid that he might just stay like this and you crave that friction. Need it like you need to suck in some air. Breathe, inhale slowly as he starts drawing his hips back. Your fingers relax, releasing the clumps of vegetation only for you to dig your fingernails into the meat of your palms when he drives himself back inside you.
“Fuck!” Your entire body pushes up but the death grip he has on your body prevents you from going anywhere. You're sobbing as he starts hammering into you. Fat tears leaking out of your eyes and falling to the dirt. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. You can feel every ridge of his cock scrubbing against your walls with each harsh thrust and you need more of it. Your grunts and moans coming out desperate and if you could speak, you would be begging him to fuck you harder.
“So t-tight.” He moans out, steadily thrusting into you as if you were his personal fuck toy. “H-hot, so hot.” His voice is raspy, words spit out like he was having a hard time forming them. Maybe he was, you were having the same problem. “Wanted- wanted this….so long. Fuck.”
He’s rambling, more words pouring out of him in the short time he’s been inside your cunt than he might say to you in a day. Words slurred and half conscious like he’s not even aware of what he’s actually saying. Or if he’s aware and just unable to stop himself from pouring out his innermost thoughts while he’s impaling you on his length.
Every time he rams his cock back inside of you, more broken comments spill out. How he’s wanted you, imagined fucking you like this and every other concievable way. On every surface of the Crest.
Your walls flutter and pulse around him, unable to keep up with the brutal pace to clench around him when he’s moving in and out of you so fast. It sounds obscene and it feels even more so. You can feel him up in your guts and you are a little afraid you won't be able to move once he gets done with you.
You’ve dug into the ground, clawing and scratching at it while he fucks you. Trying to find purchase so you can do more than just take, but it doesn’t matter. He won’t let you do anything more than take his cock and the filth that he is grunting into your ear is just making you even wetter.
“Knew- fuck, knew you w-would take me so-so good.” He hisses, making you cry out again with another snap of his hips and his cock getting even wetter in the drenched passage of your cunt.
You are like a time bomb, ready to go off at any moment and all you can do is keen and whimper under him. “Th-that’s it.” He groans. “Take it, fuck- yes, take it like a good girl.” Those words coupled with the way that cock keeps spearing into you sends you over the edge.
Whoever else is on this planet has to hear you scream. There is no way they don’t with the way that your voice chords hurt after bellowing out his name, or at least the name you know him as while your entire lower body locks up and your cunt practically seized up around his cock.
His groan is positively fucking wicked, low and wrecked while your soaking him. “There is it- fuck, good girl.” All while he is pushing his hips into you harder, the utility belt around his waist digging into your lower back and his cock grinding into you steadily.
It just makes you whine even more, your already throbbing and pulsing pussy fluttering harder around him. Never in your entire being had you ever imagined Mando actually calling you a good girl, but it is now forever etched into your brain. “Ma-man- Mando.” Your stuttered call of his name because of him, still steadily beating himself into your spasming body. Using your tight little hole continuously without pause at all.
It makes you sob, trying to squirm away from how deep he is getting. Feeling like he is in your guts and pushing deeper with every thrust. “Gonna cum.” He growls out. “Fill you, fuck- fill you up until it’s coating your insides.”
Fuck, that shouldn’t sound so good. His breathing is harsher, spit out from his helmet and his fingers dig into your hips even harder, like he is afraid you will move. He grows even harder inside you, if that is possible.
With a growl that is rough and one more thrust, Mando buries himself as deep as he can get in your body, the hot rush of his seed flooding your cunt. You whimper, loving the heat and the way that he pulses inside you while he rides out his high, short thrusts to keep him moving.
You moan when he keeps moving, keeps fucking into you and pushing out the cum inside you. “More.” He groans, pushing his hips into you again. “More.”
****
There was a wetness between your thighs, cool and soothing. Your groan comes out low and your throat hurts from the many times you had screamed yesterday.
It had taken forever to get back to the ship. At one point you had literally been crawling on your hands and knees while Mando was buried inside you, steadily fucking you. Not that you were complaining, it made the fire in your veins more tolerable. Once there, Mando had continued to fuck you until you had literally passed out.
Your eyes flutter and finally open to blink a few times against the lights inside the ship. You are completely naked, laying in a bunk that is definitely not your own with a bare arm around your stomach.
The warm, tan skin wasn’t yours and you were acutely aware of a leg thrown over yours and keeping your legs spread apart. Your fingers trail down your body and you start probing to see what is the source of the relief on your swollen cunt. You should be raw and honestly in pain for how hard Mando fucked you.
“Go back to sleep, mesh’la.” His raspy tone makes you look over and see his beskar covered helmet turned towards you.
He was the one pinning you down. His own body naked except for the helmet on his head and you realize that you can feel every inch of his body pressed against yours. “What’s-”
“The bacta will need some time to work and I need a small break before I touch you without blue crush in our systems.” He sounds tired, as tired as you feel and you realize that you don’t know exactly how many hours he had been spent fucking you. “You can sleep, the air scrubbers are filtering out the pollen.”
He must have used a bacta patch on your poor abused little pussy. Your eyes close again and you settle back into the blankets on Mando’s bunk and his arm tightens around you. Smiling slightly to yourself when he sighs, the sound slipping under the edge of his helmet and you hum. He had said he was going to touch you again.
Apparently you had gotten exactly what you wanted for Name Day.
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skyplokes · a day ago
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there's so many more characters that could fit here so please feel free to complement this chart if you want
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sunfishstick · a day ago
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jaws mando au finally complete😤🦈💞
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brandyllyn · 2 days ago
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Pedro Pascal Characters as Cats
@blueeyesatnight and I ranked the Pedro boys on what kind of a cat we thought they were ranging from:
1 - Pampered show cat that likes being carried around on a tufted pillow to 10 - Absolutely feral. You see this cat maybe twice a year and every time you're surprised it's still alive.
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Max Phillips - 1
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The quintessential housecat 1. There has never been a housecat more a 1 than Max. Max is the kind of cat that yowls loudly that he's hungry every ten minutes and you just yell back "YOUR BOWL IS FULL" but he doesn’t stop yowling until you give him fresh and different food. He knocks everything over any time your back is turned and will look you full on dead in the eye and knock your tea off the table.
Marcus Moreno - 4
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He's a housecat but like one of those cats that you have to buy an entire fucking Ferris Wheel for because they get antsy. Needs more engagement than a lounging cat - probably has at least seven of those feathers on a string toys he carries around. Keeps the house clear of pests.
Ezra - 5 (but wants to be a 1)
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Look, Ezra is a 5. He's gone a little feral but he longs for the nicer things. He is a hard scrabbling tomcat but if you gave him a little food and a little love he'd gladly spend the rest of his life curled up in a patch of sun on a windowsill purring like crazy.
Jack Daniels - 3
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Jack could make it on the mean streets if he wanted to - he just doesn't want to. He likes the finer things in life, thank you. At least once he has stolen an entire roasted chicken from the counter and dashed away before you could scold him. But he shows back up an hour later and twines around your feet and purrs until you forget why you were mad.
Maxwell Lord - 1
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Is this even a question? I don’t feel I need to explain this. Maxwell is a showcat 1 - in a different way than Max P. Maxwell wants all the nice things and a pillow to sit on and you can train him to do tricks. He is a fucking show cat and he knows it. Yet somehow he only ever gets runner up at the cat shows.
Marcus Pike - 2
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This guys is a goddamn housecat through and through. Isn't looking for as much pampering as a 1 but he's not going to make it on his own. Cries if he gets locked outside, even if it’s just outside the bedroom door. Just wants to have a little bed he can curl up in near you.
Javier Peña - 6 (pretending to be an 8)
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Javier plays the street cat. He'll take any opportunity to run outside and won't come back til the next morning with a few feathers stuck in his teeth. But in his heart he's a housecat - just let him strut in the window a bit and hiss at the ferals and he's happy.
Pero Tovar - 10
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The most 10 of 10s. Boy does not know how to behave indoors. He'd piss everywhere, escape at the first opportunity and you'd never see him again. He's got a notch in his ear from the one time he trusted someone and never the fuck again.
Dave York - 8 (pretending to be a 3)
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Blue and I disagreed the most on this one. I think because Dave is both a solid 3 housecat and a vicious feral 8 at the same time. Which leads me to the conclusion that Dave is the cat who has let you adopt him for the moment - because it suits him to have a warm place and nice food through the winter. But he will eat your goldfish and then disappear as soon as the weather turns.
Oberyn Martell - 7
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Oberyn has many homes and none. There's at least four different families in the neighborhood that believe he's "their" cat but he goes where he pleases. Will absolutely scratch the shit out of you if you try to capture/collar him. Motherfucker is lethal but insists on the organic salmon. Has never and will never be neutered. The father of half the kittens in the neighborhood.
Din Djarin - 7
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He's an outdoor cat with no interest in being indoors. He'll let you pet him and then suddenly bite you and not even he knows why. He'll follow people home but doesn't go inside. Probably has fleas
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Frankie Morales
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Frankie is a dog. We will not be taking questions at this time.
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poenariuniverse · a day ago
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Don't be afraid.
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pedropascalunofficial · 2 days ago
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2021 - Chilling in New York - September 18 19 - Soho - Pedro Pascal
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charnelhouse · 10 hours ago
You’re over the yucky part of your pregnancy. Din was so good at taking care of you. And now you’re in the horny for him all the time phase. He’s been gone on a tricky hunt and you’ve stayed behind to look after Grogu.
Din comes back at night and takes off his armour and showers. Puts on some joggers and opens the door to your bunk to find you fast asleep, your hand over the small swell of your bump and Grogu next to you. He lifts him up to reclaim his space. Shushing and kissing the downy hair on his head. Taking him to his pram.
When he returns and gets in, you wake up and sleepily pull him on top of you. Neither of you talk until he’s inside you.
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A/N: Din x F!Reader. Smut. Pregnancy. Serious FLUFF. Sry I’m running out of gifs. Idk why I used this but like VIBES BC Pedro is hot.
"You smell good," he rumbles as he noses at the soft curve of your cheek. He clutches at your hips - palming the swell of your belly.
He's all warm skin - clean and soapy from the quick shower. His curls damp as they drip and catch on your parted mouth.
"You were gone," you mutter - voice still cobwebbed in sleep. "Gone for so long. Missed you."
"Mmm - I know, sweet girl," he sighs as he wedges himself between your parted knees. "I'm sorry."
You grip his searching hand before pushing it between your legs. You hear his startled intake of breath - the gruff sound of surprise. You don't have words right now - just the heated pressure of your own arousal throbbing at your core. "Please, Din."
"Fuck, mesh'la," he growls before pushing two fingers into you - curling them as your cunt swallows him easily. "Wet little thing."
He stretches you gently - sinking deep before he draws them out. He licks them clean - marveling at the sweetness of your slick. It's new - balmy and rich and he needs more.
"Inside," you beg - all whiney and frantic. "Fuck me - please -"
He hushes you - dragging his knuckles across your jaw - trailing his thumb over your trembling lower lip. This is also new. He's never seen you so desperate for him - for his cock and his tongue. You're wetter than you've ever been - tight pussy spasming around his fingers with tiny twitches. "I've got you," he croons - leaning forward and bearing his weight above your body - utterly careful of your swollen belly.
He guides his cock against your spread cunt - sweeping the head through your weeping slit. He goes slow - lazy - teasing it against the throbbing bud of your clit. It makes you whimper - makes you dig your nails into the meat of his shoulders as he rocks himself into you - hips sawing swift and sure - the curve of his length slipping through your folds.
It's the act of a fuck - the promise - because he will take you gentle and inch by fragile inch. He wants to make it last - yank climax after climax from the center of your pleasure.
You grasp his face - pulling him down to your lips where you kiss him hard. Brutal. "Need you," you cry against his tongue. "Din - I need you."
That's enough - that tugs at his heart and reminds him of how much he had missed you when he was away. He disliked these long hunts. He dislikes having to take a single day more than he has to. The desert is cold and gasping with its violent winds - the sand punching beneath his helmet as he dreams of you - thinks of you - wishes for you. Now that you’re pregnant - it’s even more unbearable. He doesn’t worry - not really. He knows you can handle yourself, but he just doesn’t like to be away. He’s selfish - he’s possessive. He needs you in a way that frightens him. He has never - not once - needed anyone.
But you are different. You are something else.
He eases his pelvis back before he begins the measured and deliberate breach of your sweet pussy. Your walls bloom around his cock - the broken whimper falling from your lips as he sinks to the hilt. Your cunt makes room for him - spreads open and stretches to accommodate his thickness.
“That’s my girl,” he praises - his own voice tense with pleasure. He’s in a fog - torn up by the clutch of your soaked, choking sex. Silky hot. He’s overwhelmed by it - by finally being back in your arms - by the knowledge that you’re growing round with his kid. It’s a lot. They share something now - something beyond romance or hurried passion.
He fucks you in undemanding strokes - his thumb forming taut circles around the peak of your cunt. “Come for me,” he whispers - balancing his weight on his forearm - his other hand stroking your clit in time with each long, piercing thrust of his cock.
“Din - oh - oh - yes right there,” Your words are hurried - galloping toward your finish. Your chest heaving - breasts bouncing slightly with each rut of his hips. The tiny bed creaking and groaning beneath their weight.
“Come with me,” he mutters - demands - as the taut contraction of your walls - sends him stumbling forward into his own end. He fills you - spits deep - marking you with his own release as he trembles there - throat caught on a guttural, hitched groan. It’s everything - it’s more.
“I love you,” he presses into your ear - ragged and clipped - quiet and almost lost beneath the sounds of your heavy breathing. He’s never been this vulnerable before - this naked in both senses of the word. He doesn’t say it often because it worries him - makes him think he could lose.
He’s never really had anything to lose. Not until Grogu. Not until you.
Love puts things in danger. Love makes him anxious.
You sweep your thumb over his jaw - your other hand trailing through his tangled curls. You hold his face to your chest so he can hear the languorous pump of your heart. There’s the very slight raised flesh of your belly bumping against his stomach.
“I love you, too,” you finally answer as you brush your lips over his crown. No helmet. Just him.
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Watch me
Summary: You try to tease the Mandalorian after taking a skinny dip in the lake. He's not having it.
Pairing: Din Djarin x fem. Reader
Wordcount: 1.8k
Rating: explicit (18+ only)
Warnings: teasing, some dirty talk, masturbation (F), a hint of breeding kink
A/N: The biggest thanks to @the-scandalorian for betaing this hot mess 💜
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It was so kriffing hot.
This was supposed to be a quick journey. The bounty was already frozen in carbonite, and you were on your way back. That was until Mando had to do an emergency landing on this god forsaken planet because the Crest had some issue—something complicated sounding that you didn’t really listen to. You weren’t a mechanic, so you weren’t a big help anyways.
He set the ship down close to a little lake but the heat… You weren’t meant to live in temperatures like that. You could only take so many clothes off to cool down.
Mando had been gone for almost two hours—well, not gone. You could hear him outside working on the ship.
“Mando?” you stepped out of the ship, only wearing a shirt, your underwear beneath.
He came into view, still somehow in his full armor despite the oppressive heat. He stopped as he saw you. “Yes?”
“Is there anything in there that can kill me?” you asked as you nodded to the little lake.
He continued to look at you for a moment before he walked over, standing at the edge of the still water.
“98% sure that you won’t get eaten,” he said after a while.
“98%?” you asked, an eyebrow raised.
“I’ll keep an eye out for you,” he said as he turned around to walk back to the ship.
Rolling your eyes, you sighed at his deadpan humor. Mando and you had… an agreement. You could travel with him to help him take down bounties, take care of the child who was with Karga on Nevarro at the moment, and he got to… take out his frustrations on you—to work through them in a way that was mutually beneficial.
It was you who had the idea in the first place, mostly because you were really interested to find out what was underneath all that metal. What had started as a way to combat the loneliness of the universe grew to something more complex in a short time.
But you both refused to acknowledge that.
Instead of talking, you teased each other relentlessly... until Mando snapped. Then, he wouldn’t take his hands off of you until you were crying his name deep into the darkness of his cot.
You shook your head in exasperation before you pulled off your shirt.
Due to the lack of a bathing suit you wanted to stay in your underwear but maybe, just maybe it was too hot for even this little clothing. If this could get a reaction out of the Mandalorian it was purely accidental and totally not intended.
Risking a glance over your shoulder you saw Mando with his back turned to you as you took off your underwear, some tool in his hand as he worked on the outside of the ship. Letting your underwear fall to the ground you slowly tiptoed toward the water, releasing a sigh when you felt the cool water.
When you were in the water up to your knees you heard a noise behind you.
You turned your head to look over your shoulder at Mando, who was standing next to the Crest. His visor was fixed on you as you, the tool that had been in his hands on the ground. You winked at him with a smirk before you got fully into the water.
It was heavenly. The three suns of the planet heated the air while you were floating in the cool water of the lake. You hoped Mando would repair whatever broke on the ship quickly so you could get back into the cool of hyperspace. Or space. It didn’t matter as long as it cooled down again.
You didn’t know how long you were in the water when you heard footsteps behind you.
“I finished the repairs. I’m gonna head into the ship and clean some weapons until you’re ready,” Mando said.
You looked up at him, swimming towards him. “Or you could join me in here?” you proposed. You were submerged in the water from the swell of your breasts down, and you could practically feel his eyes on you behind the glass of his visor.
He sighed. “I’ll wait for you inside,” and with that, he turned around.
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A half hour later, you emerged from the water, not bothering to get your underwear on, just pulling the shirt over your head. You walked up to the ship, finding Mando sitting at the little table where you took your meals, at least four of his weapons laid out and disassembled in front of him. He looked up when you entered.
He had taken off all his beskar save for his helmet, his feet bare, his pants rolled up. He was wearing a shirt instead of the flight suit he usually wore, and you were overwhelmed with the amount of skin on display.
You swallowed. “I’m finished, we’re good to go,” you said quietly.
He gave you a nod. “I’m going to finish cleaning these and then we can take off.”
“I’m going for a quick shower then.”
“More water?” he asked, and you smiled.
“Gotta wash off the lake,” you winked before you turned around.
When you got out of the fresher, he was still sitting there, cleaning his weapons. He looked up when he heard your footsteps.
“Stealing one of my shirts again I see?” he said.
“They’re perfect to lazy around in,” you shrugged as you climbed into this cot with your holopad. From there, you had a perfect view of him sitting at the table. You searched for the story you had been reading.  When you located it, you leaned against the wall and began to read.
It was comfortable silence—and only interrupted by Mando setting parts of his weapons down to pick up a new one to clean. Soon the story you were reading got boring. Watching Mando’s gloveless hands work dexterously on his intricate weapons was way more interesting.
His fingers were thick and long as they cleaned every little piece of his weapons. Rubbing and polishing, until every part looked as good as new. You hadn’t seen his hands often before—twice, to be exact. Once when he got his signet ring from the armorer that he was now wearing on his pinky finger. And once when he hadn’t bothered to turn the lights off when he had to have you in the cockpit after a long hunt. You could feel yourself clench remembering just how many times he had made you cum on his fingers before he finally had given in and fucked you senseless.
He was a force only you were able to handle.
The holopad on the cot next to you was forgotten, your hands rested on your thighs, rubbing up and down slowly—much like he would on nights when he wanted to savor you. In the dark, the beskar of his ring would make you shiver before his hand would wander between your legs. His other hand would push up your shirt and then he would kiss up your stomach, before his tongue would find your nipple, teasing until he pushed you to the verge of your first climax. Now, your own hand pushed under your shirt, his shirt, that smelled so much like him, your fingers teasing your nipple before you rolled it between your fingers.
You were looking at the Mandalorian the whole time. He was still sitting there, concentrating on his weapons. You breathed quietly, your pussy slick with arousal. He was right there. Pushing your shirt off, you parted your legs, your eyes still on him. Would you be able to make yourself cum without him noticing?
Your fingers found your core as you watched him pick up another part, starting to clean it carefully. His fingers were greasy and strong, so strong. It was the first time you noticed a tattoo on his hand. You couldn’t see what it was, but it would be one of your next missions to find out.
Slowly you circled your clit, featherlight touches to tease yourself. He put the weapon together after having it cleaned, laying it to the side before he started on the next. Fuck, you wanted to feel his fingers on your skin: two of his fingers pushing inside of you, while his thumb worked on your clit. You rubbed faster, your other hand releasing the hold on your breast to push two fingers inside of your slick pussy. You bit your lip to keep quiet. You were so close, feeling your legs already shaking. You just needed some…
“What are you doing?” you didn’t even notice that you had closed your eyes, opening them to find the Mandalorian looking, his helmet now pointed straight at you.
Your fingers were still inside of you, but you felt frozen at the spot. “Mando…” you whimpered.
“Think you can make yourself cum? Are your fingers enough for you, little girl?” he asked, and you moaned.
“Please, please, Mando, I need….”
“Make yourself cum, and I’ll make you cum again. And then I’m going to fuck you until the only word you can think off is my name.”
“Fuck…” you gasped, circling your clit faster. He was still cleaning his weapons as you looked at him, but you could see he was tense, grabbing each part tighter, his knuckles white.
“And after I make you cum on my cock, I’m gonna cum deep inside of your tight little pussy. I know how much you like that. My cum inside of you… Fuck, one day I might even fuck you to breed you, make you round with my child.”
You cried out his name as you came, harder than you had ever made yourself cum before. Still, it was nothing compared to how Mando could make you see stars. You breathed harshly, trying to catch your breath.
Interesting. Breeding was a kink you hadn’t seen coming... but holy hell.
Mando was still sitting at the table, now putting together the last part of his blaster pistol before he laid it down. The air around you seemed to buzz as you two looked at each other.
“Get on your hands and knees and don’t turn your head. I’m gonna make you cum on my tongue first,” he said, finally getting up, and you could see the outline of his hard cock inside his pants. You shivered as you turned around and did as you were told.
“Yes, sir.”
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babypedrito · 2 days ago
I love you like 💕💗💞💗 please please please write something about innocent!reader (the whole thing u did with being really naïve/ignorant about how bodies work) and dark!mando doing anal sex for the first time
MWAH MWAH MWAH 💋 also u haven’t seen the last of me call me 🍒 or 🍓
for you
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pairing: soft dark!mando x f!reader
warnings: 18+ ONLY, DARK FIC; YOU are responsible for your own media consumption, dubcon (consent is key!), manipulative/predatory behaviour, exploitation, naïve!reader (reader is of legal age), innocence!kink, corruption!kink, stockholm syndrome, anal, unprotected sex (don’t be stupid—wrap it up!), anal creampie, implied age gap, pet names, aftercare!!
a/n: it’s been a while! thankie for the prompt 🍒 nonni <3 heed the warnings before you read!!
“manny, we can’t do that!”
the predicament you had found yourself in wasn’t one that you thought was possible, with your limited knowledge and ignorance about the vulgarity of sexual activities. after all, growing up shielded from healthy conversations about sex had left you in the dark about even the simplest of information about the act.
so when mando breaches the topic of anal, it’s safe to say that you’re horrified at the idea; putting what up where? why in hells would anyone do such a thing and how could it possible be pleasurable?!
“can you tell me why we can’t do that, sweet one?” mando knows exactly why you had looked at him like he’d grown four more heads, but he craved the act of humiliating you in every way possible, even now as he watches your eyeballs practically pop out of your sockets.
“that’s… that’s gross! what if… what if i—ew! no, no no!” unable to fathom the idea of it, you shake your head as if trying to physically rid the connotations of the act, missing the way mando’s shoulders shake with humour at your behaviour.
sensing your soon-overflowing panic, he moves quickly to plant his hands on your shoulder, delivering a firm squeeze to help bring you back down from the thoughts floating in your head.
“easy, sweet princess, it’s okay. i’m right here with you, and you do want to make me happy, right? and you know how much fun you have when we have these lessons,” by attacking your weakness of being eager to please him, he hopes that it’s enough to convince you without him having to take more… drastic actions.
“b-but i’m scared, manny…”
hidden from your viewing, eyes soften behind the beskar separating you from seeing your ‘lover’, a strike of compassion hitting the man before you at your confession. shushing you gently, beskar envelopes you as he holds you against him, rubbing small circles against your back in an attempt to help calm you and further push you towards doing what he wants you to.
“i know, cyar’ika, but like i said, i’ll be with you for it all. there’s nothing to be scared of when i’m with you, hm? can you try for me?” with a finger to your chin, he tilts your head until you’re staring into the abyss of his visor, his soft tone successful in convincing you.
“o-okay—for you, manny,”
since that short conversation, mando had left you to clean yourself up, talking you through what exactly you’d need to do to make sure that nightmare in your head wouldn’t come true. you’re grateful that he gave you some privacy for it, something that wasn’t a thing while in his company.
“i think i’m done, manny!” hopping out of the ‘fresher, you greet the armoured man with a grin, a sign that your nerves from earlier had died down a significant amount.
with his hand held out towards you, you skip over to where he sits on your cramped bunk, allowing him to manoeuvre you so he has you bent over his lap with your ass in the air.
“good girl, was that so bad?” he knows your answer before it leaves your mouth, bracing himself for the dramatics.
“it was awful, manny! but at least i feel cleaner now and i don’t think i’m that scared anymore?” turning your head slightly so you can partially peer up at his helmet, you send him a conflicted gaze as what sounds like one of his rare chuckles crackles through the filter of his helmet.
“i’m glad to hear that, mesh’la—like i said, there’s nothing to worry about when i’m with you.”
bare hands ghost the swells of your ass, the softness of his hands a welcome feeling—and one much needed to prepare you for what was to come.
unable to help the shiver rolling down your body, you shudder once you feel a thick finger slide down your slit, gathering your arousal before sliding it up to where his focus was on tonight.
your whole being tenses once the pad of his middle finger distributes the collected slick around the puckered muscle, circling it slowly in both clockwise and counterclockwise movements.
“just relax, precious girl; it’ll only feel good if you relax for me. think about how good it feels when i play with your little clit, like this,” a second hand comes down to your small nub, another pair of fingers circling that button that you loved oh so much.
“now, tell me how that feels,”
the sharp gasps and whines that fill the air of the room speak volumes for how good it feels, and mando can tell the difference from how your tense body had since turned into something akin to jelly.
“f-feels good, manny—so g-good…” the combination of both sensations has you unconsciously pushing back against him, suddenly feeling brave about the prospect of having that finger inside your virgin hole.
halting his motions prompts an upset whimper to slip past your lips as you attempt to look back at why he stopped, only to hear a ‘click!’ of what you assumed to be a bottle before icy cold gel splats down onto your asshole.
“manny! wh-what are you doing?!” hushing you gently, he slathers the lube around his finger before planting it back against your hole, spreading the lube that he’d squeezed onto the site.
“it’s just lube, princess; it’ll help me stretch your little hole so it won’t hurt as much when i teach you about anal properly.” part of him wonders if he should’ve just used his spit instead, saving him the credits it cost to buy this tiny bottle but sympathy had apparently taken him for this lesson.
his finger slips in easily with the help of the lube and he can’t help the groan escaping his own lips when he feels the muscle close up around his digit; how in hells is he going to fit his cock inside this hole?
one finger soon becomes two, and two fingers soon becomes three before he has you squirming in his lap and again, has you pushing back against his fingers and crying out for him to let you cum; he, of course, brings you right to the edge before slipping his fingers out as your desperate voice fills his ears.
“please, manny! i-i need more!” now this was something he was going to have fun with.
“what do you need, cyar’ika? tell me, use your words like my good girl,”
“i need you… i need you to teach me properly! you said you were going to… fuck me..”
“fuck you where, princess?”
“in-in my ass!”
hoisting you upright, he carefully places you onto the mattress of the bunk before positioning you on all fours, your ass exposed to the cold air of the room as the side of your face presses against the sheets below. the familiar coldness of the lube lands on the ringed muscle as mando generously applies some more against his throbbing length, giving it a few pumps before lining himself up with the unused hole.
“i hope you meant it when you said you wanted me to fuck your ass, little one.”
with no warning, he breaches your hole, the sensation much more painful than how his fingers felt; and he keeps going, pushing the entirety of his thick length in before bottoming out and finally stilling.
“it hurts! manny, it hurts!” your teeth grit together as tears begin to dance around your eyes and mando soon realises that he has to calm you down once again, his hand coming to massage your hips while softly shushing you again.
“s’okay, i’m right here. it’s supposed to feel like this at first, babybug, you know i’m much bigger than my fingers, hm? that’s it, just breathe,”
his free fingers find your now-engorged bud, continuing to rub circles around it to help ease the tension piled up in your body again. it seems to help as you begin to focus more on the stimulation against your clit than the pain, instinctively clenching the more he plays with it causing him to grunt at the feeling of your already tight asshole tightening around him.
“there we go, good girl. i’m gonna move again, okay? just try and stay relaxed for me, i know you can pass this lesson, okay?” with no more than a worried whimper, you brace yourself for the movement only to be surprised that it didn’t feel as bad as it felt before.
gauging your lack of reaction at the act mando decides to press on, pushing back in and moaning at just how unbelievably tightly you were squeezing him, repeating his thrusts at a casual pace while continuing to play with your clit.
“oh, m-manny, it-it feels really good now!!” your stuttered words egg him on as he increases the pace, the echoes of your dewy skin slapping against beskar along with your wanton moans encompassing the atmosphere.
“th-this, babybug, is y-your lesson on anal; aren’t you so glad that you decided to give it a go? you’re such a good girl for me, always making me so proud and happy.”
preening at his praise, you can’t help the way you clamp down around his cock as he hisses at the action. moving his hand from your clit to your hips and grabbing onto them, forcing you to take all of him as the slapping of his heavy balls against your clit replace his fingers.
“‘can feel how close you are, princess; y’gonna cum from me fucking your tight, little ass? is that it? y’want me to fill this little hole with all my cum and claim it the same way i’ve claimed your pussy and mouth?”
“yes, yes, yes! pl-please, manny, please can i cum? j-just wanna c-cum…” with your words growing muffled by the way you’re practically being fucked into the mattress, you feel your legs beginning to grow weak as you soon approach your high.
“tell me, tell me you want me to cum inside your little ass, i wanna karking hear you say it while you cum,”
“iwant y-you to cum in-inside my little ass, manny! please, please c-cum!!”
with one final thrust, mando spills his seed deep inside you as the obscenity pushes you over the edge causing you to squeeze the dear life out of mando’s cock, milking him of all his load and then some before your legs give in.
small spasms run through your body in waves as your orgasm litters your come down, and mando isn’t fairing any better either as he shakes his head in an attempt to try and clear his blurred vision.
gaining his composure as fast as he can, he scoops you up in his arms and spews words of praise at you, his cold armour working wonders against your overheated skin.
“shh, i’ve got you, little princess, i’m right here; you did such a good job taking me, such a good girl for me always. who else can make me cum like that, huh?”
“n-no one e-else, manny; you’re m-my manny,” you manage to get your words out through your hiccups, clinging onto the warrior with all your might as the idea of him doing these things with someone else crosses your mind.
he’s yours.
“and you’re mine, sweet one. now, how about we cross ‘anal’ off the lessons calendar with one of those shiny stickers you love so much?”
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mandocule · 2 days ago
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Cobb: Din Djarin... how do I begin to explain Din Djarin? Boba: Din Djarin is flawless. Greef: I hear his armor’s insured for a million credits. Fennec: I hear he does spotchka commercials. On Coruscant.  Omera: His favorite holomovie is The Beskar Giant, and he tears up whenever he watches it. Cara: One time he met Luke Skywalker on an imperial cruiser... Bo-Katan: And he asked if he was a Jedi. Mayfeld: One time he punched me in the face. It was awesome.
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deniigi · a day ago
for dinluke, nightmares + extra angst of lashing out+ not being able to accept help
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They have a nightmare chart.
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doiponderordoiwander · 2 days ago
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au where Din and Boba wear friendship necklaces but it’s specifically these ones
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pettyprocrastination · 19 hours ago
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The Collective’s Affection Din Djarin x Reader
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Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader (Haunted Din)
Summary: You and your husband grapple with the aftermath’s of Grogu leaving, and he struggled with the secret price welding the Darksaber has on his body and mind. 
Warnings: foul language, vague descriptions of sex, description of illness, kinda body horror in a way? idk. 
Authors note: a special thank you to my lovelies who have listened to be ramble away for months on end as well as read my draft time after time!! thank you @captainsamwlsn​ @luxurybeskar​ @cinewhore​ @thesadvampire​ @ficsilike-reblogged​ @mostly-megan​ @madhyanas​ @humanransome-note​ and a special thank you to @moskaisley​ who made some downright beAUTIFUL haunted!din art that pushed me to finish this chapter thank you to you all so much. 
Tag List of those i think would enjoy: @themarcusmoreno​ @maxlordd​ @max--phillips​ @clareguilty​ @rae-gar-targaryen​ @qveenbvtch​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​ @dilf-vader​ @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​ @alexisinorbit​ @ifimayhaveaword​ @lilhawkeye3​ @artpoppstar​ @fan-of-encouragement​ @ezrasbirdie​
Din hasn’t felt like himself since he first wielded the saber. 
He assumed it was because the kid, Grogu, was gone now. 
Well, not gone. Just not with him. The child was now in the hands of Luke Skywalker, a name he knew nothing of before until you told him of his legacy, who promised to keep Grogu safe while teaching him how to use his powers. 
Not powers, he was reminded time and time again. The Force. 
As if that made any more sense. 
When the child left, he took a part of Din with him. A chunk of his heart that bled when the tiny little claws dug in each time he cooed in his arms and twitched his big green ears. 
Grogu took a part of you as well. Din’s sweet wife who doted and cared for the child just as he did. You both were warriors, kindred souls who fought for each other and loved one another with the same ferocity. In all the years you've been together he’d never seen a fight- because that’s what it was, an ongoing battle for the child’s safety- hurt you so much. 
Maybe it was twisted. But it comforted him to know you were hurting just as much as him. As the beskar warrior who spent his life wearing a cage and hunting like a predator, quiet, succinct, dangerous. 
But when the cage was unlocked, it opened a flood of tears and aches that never seemed to stop. So he shared them with you. 
The child, the Razor Crest, his Creed. All of it was gone. All he had left was you, his wife, his partner, his cyare. You and that ridiculous blade that self-righteous leaders like the high and mighty Bo-Katan seemed to foam at the mouth for. 
The fucking Darksaber. 
He didn’t understand it. He knew it was a powerful weapon, strong enough to cut through everything but pure beskar. A formidable weapon to have at one’s waist? He’ll give it that much. 
What he didn’t care for was the stupid fucking story that came with it. 
It was revered and worshipped like a weapon of the divine, and if you held it? Well, that made you a god. 
And Din was the latest unfortunate deity to wield its blade. 
All because of the story. 
“It must be won through combat,” Bo-Katan told him. 
Even as he pushed it into her hand, she refused. Despite the fact that she looked at it like a spice junkie itching for another hit. Her pride wouldn’t allow for it. 
Perhaps she had been expecting him to want it. As if he had the same dream as her, to be some tyrant of a desolate planet whose Mandalorian culture resembled nothing close to the one he had been raised with. Whether that was good or bad, he still wasn’t sure. But all he knew was that the Darksaber was a well balanced weapon with a hilt that fit his hand perfectly. 
He didn’t know the dreams had come from the blade. Not yet, anyway. 
They didn’t start immediately. 
Lately, he felt as if he had been stretched all too thin. He attributed it to the exhaustion of it all. Moff Gideon, the Darksaber, Bo-Katan, the child. You could see it in him. When others saw the greatest warrior in the galaxy looming over a trembling bounty, you saw the sag in his shoulders and the dragging of his heels. 
You always knew. 
“We’re taking a break,” you had told him. You didn’t ask. Or try to subtly suggest a vacation from bounty hunting on some sunny planet with drinks and music. “I don’t know where, or for how long. But once we get a new ship, we’re resting. You hear me?”
He didn’t care that Bo-Katan and Fennec and fucking Fett were watching him as he nodded numbly and intertwined his fingers with yours. He didn’t think of his creed or the saber or even the cashout he’d get from the federation for Gideon. All he knew was that the child was gone. That he was hurting in a way he never knew he’d feel. 
But you were still by his side. 
----------------------
When Din had asked for anything pre-empire, the salesman laughed in his face. 
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t mean to laugh but— something like that would be prehistoric!” Din’s shoulders drew tight at his condescending tone. “A pre-Empire ship wouldn't make it far into the sky, let alone out of the star system!” You thought of the Razor Crest, all the years spent with her as your home. All the fights and the celebrations and kisses and blaster shots that happened within her walls. 
“Yeah well, you’d be surprised.” 
The salesman shifted, his eyes sticking to your husband’s armor with terrified curiosity in his eyes. 
“I know that people of your… profession are in need of something subtle, yet substantial. I think I have just the thing!”
You both followed him through the freighter storage as he pointed out multiple ships, all with plenty of bells and whistles but they all felt too new. Too shiny. More like a ship and less of a home. 
“This one here is a former military patrol gunship, plenty of storage space, two small cots and a carbonite freezer.” 
He slapped his hand against the metal plating of the ship with a proud smile. “She isn’t too flashy, but can take some heavy hits and flies like a dream.”
The back of the ship opened and a ramp extended to the ground. 
“Why don't you take a look inside and then tell me what you think?”
Din had already moved past him before he was done talking. 
“It’s within our price range.” you reasoned. Din sat in the pilot’s chair and ran his hand over the control panel. 
“It’s trackable.”
“All ships are trackable now,” you call out to him from the next room. It was spacious enough for the two of you with a heavy arsenal and for a decent price. “Trying to find something pre-Empire that’s flyable is going to be impossible. Unless you want to do dedicate a year to a ship in need of some serious elbow grease, and that will cost even more than just buying a-”
You went silent.
Din frowned and a soft whisper curled inside his head. 
“Cyare?”
Nothing. 
He called your name again and heard nothing back. When he pushed himself up from the pilot’s seat there was a throbbing at the small of his neck that he didn’t question. He was too worried about you. 
You're hurt. 
Somebody took you. 
Somebody killed you. 
They’ll pay. They’ll suffer. 
We’ll make them beg for-
When he turned the corner and pulled out his blaster, he saw you. Standing in the center of the room with glassy eyes, staring at the cot on the corner. 
“Cyare? What's wrong?”
“He would’ve had his own bed here.” Your voice cracked and you shut your eyes. “Maker, I’m sorry. I’m just-”
“I know.” 
He pulled you close into his arms and felt his own eyes prick with tears within his helmet. It had been three months since the Child had left, but the wound still felt raw. Whatever progress he thought you both had made was ripped open when he saw the tremble of your lip and the tears streaked down your face. 
“He would’ve still slept with us anyways. Little womp rat has no boundaries.” 
Your shoulders shook as you laughed into his neck. “Yeah, you're right. He was a real cuddle bug.”
“Is,” Din corrected. “He isn't gone. He’s just… at school, that’s all.”
It was a positive way to look at it. One he didn’t even believe himself. The child wasn’t gone forever; Din himself had said so to the little one in their final moments together.
“I’ll see you again. I promise.”
“No doubt giving those Jedi a kriffin’ headache. Probably ignoring all his lessons to play in the mud.”
The image of Grogu off in the dirt, happily digging his hands in the ground while an exasperated Jedi stood by to scold him made Din laugh. 
“Eating frogs when he’s supposed to be in his lessons.”
The air was lighter around you both. He let his hands fall to your hips and let out a heavy sigh. 
“We should get the ship.”
“Yeah?” 
“Yeah. It’ll be nice, you know? Give the kid some space to run around when we see him again.”
You took in a shaky breath and smiled through your tears. Even after years of being by each other’s side in combat and marriage, seeing you happy made his heart skip a beat. 
Truthfully, he didn’t know if you both would ever see the child again. But you both had lived lives full of harsh reality, you deserved some optimism, even if it was just a lie. 
“Yeah, I think he’d like that a lot.” 
--------
“You know, you didn’t have to spring for the hotel. We could’ve just stayed on the ship.”
He hummed and wrapped his arms around you from behind as you leaned against the balcony railing. The planet you both decided on was the outer rim. Cheap and away from the true elite of the star system, but still beautiful. You watched the twin suns set on the horizon and listened to the waves crash against the red sand of the beach that was just a short walk from your room. 
“Yeah, but we deserve a break.” 
You snorted and looked back at him with a raised brow. “Who are you and what have you done with my credit-cruncher of a husband?”
“Easy,” he warned. But his cold voice didn’t scare you. You knew he was smiling beneath his beskar. His head fell to rest between your shoulder blades. The cool metal of his helmet made goosebumps rise on your skin. 
A moment of silence passed between you two and all that could be heard was the crash of the waves. You chewed on the inside of your cheek anxiously before speaking. 
“What are you gonna do with it, Din?”
He sighed. Maker, he had sounded so exhausted lately. Not like after a hunt, but like he was being drained and less of himself each day. You thought the trip would help. 
“I don't know yet.”
“Do you want to be Mand’alor?”
“No.”His fingers laced with yours on the railing and he ran his thumb against the top of your hand. “I don’t know the first thing about Mandalore. My creed didn't teach me of it, or of other Mandalorians. I don’t… I don’t want that.”
“Well...” Cool ocean breeze wisped against your cheek and between the tresses of your hair. “What do you want?”
“Right now?” he asked softly. His fingers curled until his grip on your hands was almost too tight, before letting go completely. “I just want to be with you.”
You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and bringing your head close to tap against his helmet. “You have me, Din. You always will.”
“And I’m grateful for that.” His helmet lifts and stares out into the sea. A moment passed before his hand slipped from your waist and to grab the black hilt of the saber. 
“So much fighting all for this.”
It fit into his head as if it were made for him. But something about it made you feel on edge. Maybe it was the history it held. A weapon that was practically a holy relic, passed down from welder to weidler through betrayal and bloodshed. Looking at it was like looking at an abandoned temple. 
Din pulled his arm back in one smooth movement and threw the saber into the sky. It sailed through the air, the black hilt spinning and twisting before it dropped into the ocean. You both watched the waves push and pull against the crimson sand, the weapon so sought after now sinking deep into the sea. 
“Whoever wants it so bad can go swim for it themselves. I have all I need right here.”
You ducked your head down and scoffed. “Softie.”
That night, after finding ecstasy in your nails raked down his back and his lips on your skin, you both fell asleep in a bed much too soft and luxurious for either of you to feel comfortable. But with your husband’s head pressed to your chest and one hand at the nape of his neck, you felt at home. 
When Din dove into the water, he didn't feel it. 
He didn't feel the freezing water sting against his skin, nor the salt water burn his unblinking eyes. Not the weight of his clothes as he swam deeper and deeper. He didn't panic as his lungs begged for air but struggled as water flooded his nose and mouth. He wasn't deterred as the pressure grew tighter and tighter, strong enough to crush the skull of any man or creature who didn't call the deep depths home. 
Not him. They wouldn't allow such a thing to happen. 
He couldn't see anything now. Not that he needed to. They knew exactly where it was. Harsh whispers against his skin, cold fingers in his veins tugging and pulling until his own wrapped around the hilt of the Darksaber and the thrumming finally grew quiet. 
Something swam past him, large and slimy against the bare slip of his ankle and was gone. 
He didn't need to see it to know it turned back to face him with an open mouth, rows upon rows of teeth eager to sink into his body and rip back and forth until he was dead. They told him well enough. Tugging the strings in his brain to bring his arm high and pull the blade until the blade slid through its body like a vibroblade cutting through silk.
Even in the darkest depth of the ocean, where light didn't touch a single being, the saber was the epitome of darkness the moment it was ignited.
Wet footprints showed his tracks back into your room. His body swayed back and forth in the doorway. Like he was suspended on strings, awaiting to be moved and manipulated. 
When did he become a marionette, he wondered. A Mandalorian turned into a puppet for… something…  Or someone… he wasn't sure. 
A soft grumble cut through the room. 
Oh. 
You shifted in bed, the cover rustling as you turned over before settling once more. A movement that hardly lasted ten seconds, just barely louder than the creak of a floor board. 
But somehow it triggered something. Something that was inside Din. Not dormant, but pliant. Agreeable. Until then. 
The darkness in his veins that controlled his limbs became all-encompassing. It swallowed his lungs and heart, spread through his mind and sank into the whites of his eyes until Din was barely heard over a myriad of other voices. Too many to count. All that would whisper the temptation of the Darksaber in his mind: to conquer, to kill, to hunt. 
But now? They hummed with curiosity. Twitching and pacing as they stared at you long enough for you to feel the prickle on the back of your neck from being watched. 
When you awoke, all you could see was your husband's silhouette in the doorway. You were hardly awake to begin with, eyes barely open and still liable to be pulled back to slumber that you didn't notice the ignited blade in his hand. 
“Din?” you croaked. “What are you doing up?”
He said nothing. His hand flexed around the handle of the saber. As if preparing to bring it down and cause a carnage around the room he shared with you. Your husband’s body remained statue-still while his consciousness began to scream in his own mind for control. 
Petrified of what was going to happen next. 
“Bad dreams?”
His head tilted to the side at your sympathetic tone. The voices, the spirits of the blade, began to whisper. Conspiring questions as you slipped one hand from under the blanket and grabbed at the empty air. 
“C’mere love.”
The blade they sank Din Djarin into the ocean for, was retracted and set on the bedside . Their weapon, their home, their holy relic, momentarily forgotten and pushed away in favor of the sweet sleepy rasp of his wife’s voice. 
You said nothing of Din’s armor in bed, all you did was tuck your fingers under his helmet. When you were met with no resistance, you slipped it from his head and set it on the floor. 
When they saw you for the first time. No longer restrained by your husband’s cage of bone and beskar— oh, how those whispered voices sang. 
Beauty. 
Art.
Goddess. 
Perfection. 
Ours. 
Their singing became louder and louder until Din, still desperately fighting in his own mind, wondered if his skull would split open and set him free.
Each voice fell silent as you cupped his face and pressed a kiss to his nose. 
All of it came over them like the freezing waters your husband was submerged in only an hour before. But now? It was them. Dragged and choking under the feeling of love and devotion for the first time in eons. Half of them didn’t remember what it was like. Lungs stuttering and skin on fire. 
Was this love? It had been so long without it. 
Was all of this from your husband?
Was all of this for your husband?
 Could any of it be theirs? Their love to give and take and cherish until their host was rotting and weak and beyond. 
“I know you miss him.” You tucked your head in the crook of his neck. “I do too. I’m not going to tell you how to handle this. Maker knows I don’t know what to do either. Just… just don’t shut me out on this, okay? We’re a team.”
The mere suggestion of shutting you out, abandoning you, starving themselves of this oasis that they just barely let touch their tongue sent them all into a frenzy. 
A low rasp came from your husband’s throat as he buried his nose in your neck. 
Never leave you. 
Never abandon. 
Keep you.
Love you. 
They would swear on all their lives and those they have taken. 
Not even death would separate them from you. 
“I love you, Din.” 
You fell asleep wrapped around the husk of your husband as dark eyes watched you until the twin suns began to rise and Din finally filled his body once more.
When his eyes finally cleared and his fingers twitched at his own command again, your husband slowly untangled your arms from his waist before slipping out of bed and going to the refresher. 
He made sure to lock the door before he bent over and began to vomit into the sink.
The subtle prick in the back of his head was back. A gentle pressure that had turned much sharper the moment he had woken up. His head felt...tight. As if his skull were too full of himself and was ready to burst. 
The dingy bathroom light was enough for him to see that the bile he had retched into the chipped sink was black. Viscous and dark enough to confirm what he had already suspected the past month three months, ever since the child had been taken from him. He looked up at his reflection, hands shaking as he reached up and wiped the drippage from his mouth with trembling fingers.
There was something terribly wrong with the Mandalorian. 
Three loud knocks rapped against the fresher door. “Din? Are you alright?”
Another wave of nausea and pain ripped through your husband and he keeled over once more. White knuckles gripped the sink as he emptied a dark sickness down the drain that splashed back at his shirt. 
The prickle of pain at the back of his head, one that before was just whispering over the small of his skull, grew until he had to shut his eyes and take deep breaths to calm himself. 
Three more knocks until he was able to stand up straight and open the door to you. 
You knew your husband well. A man who kept himself shrouded in armor from the rest of the world that you could read like a children’s book. You knew what tilt of the head meant he was angry, what scuff of his boot meant he was upset, but not upset enough to want to talk about it, and what lilt of his voice meant he was amused. 
“I’m alright. Something in my stomach isn't agreeing with me at all. Must’ve been that diner we went to.” Which is how you knew he was lying to you. 
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