Chapter Text
Your relationship with the Mandalorian changed drastically the day that he had almost died on Navarro. The day that Moff Gideon has revealed his true name to you and his friends. Din Djarin was the man behind the suit of armor that had changed your life forever.
“Mando” You whisper, almost afraid of going near him now you are safely away from Navarro and Moff Gideon. Din had checked the baby over for any injuries before putting it to bed. You had showered and found the Mandalorian sat in the pilot’s seat, staring into space, and still dressed in the beskar you had never seen him without. “Are you okay?” You add when he continues staring at the passing stars.
His helmet tilts to the side, indicating he heard you. Because of not being able to see his face, you’d come to read his body language. He was still tense, his shoulders stiff and you knew that the discovery in the tunnels that was once home to the Covert weighed heavily on him. “Why are you still calling me Mando?” The rough tone crackled through the modulator and hid the emotions that you knew he must be experiencing.
“I- I didn’t want to overstep. I know your name is sacred and you haven’t told me to use it. I don’t want to do anything wrong regarding your creed” You answer honestly and step a little closer. You feel ridiculous, loving a man whose face you have never seen and whose name you have just found out but here you are. Hopelessly in love with the beskar-clad warrior sat in front of you and he doesn’t feel the same way.
He heaves a sigh deeper than you’ve ever heard before. Not frustrated or annoyed, more relieved as his shoulders slumped down. “You always respect my creed, mesh’la. Even when you know nothing about it.” He turns slowly in the chair to face you. “Why? You never press me to explain.”
Your eyes widen when you catch your reflection in his helmet. “You don’t need to explain. You never have to explain yourself to me. It is your religion and I will always respect that” You promise, shifting from one foot to the other. Nerves swirl in your stomach from his unknowingly impassive stare and you glance down at the floor.
Mando stands quickly, making you back against the console as he looms over you. “Are you sure?” He asks, his voice deep. “I will answer anything you want to know, mesh’la.” His fingers curl against his cuirass.
You blink a few times, unable to believe that he is standing so close to you. You almost think you can see through the visor but you know that’s just your imagination. “What does mesh'la mean?” You exhale shakily.
His chest plate rises as he takes a breath, orange fingertips of his gloves raising up to brush along the inside of your arm. “Beautiful.” His voice was low, but clear enough that you didn’t miss what he said.
Your lips part in surprise. The Mandalorian has always been so focused on his mission. You never imagined he paid attention to trivial things like beauty when duty was his sole purpose in life. “You think I’m beautiful?” You ask, awe coloring your words.
“Yes, cyar’ika.” His hand trails up to wrap around the back of your neck to push his thumb against your pressure point lightly, tilting your head up as the forehead helmet comes to press against yours in a movement that you had seen him do with the kid. His thumb rubs against your skin soothingly.
“What does cyar'ika mean?” You close your eyes at the feel of the cool metal resting against your skin. It’s the closest you have felt to another being in years, even if he is covered by beskar.
His hand tightens around your neck, making your pulse jump. It wasn’t threatening, instead it felt like he was holding himself back from doing something. “Sweetheart.” His feet shuffle forward a bit more, pressing his beskar clad front to yours. “It means sweetheart.”
You lick your lips, your mouth suddenly dry now you know he has been calling you sweetheart and beautiful for months. “I guess I better download a Mando'a dictionary holo” You chuckle nervously, your heart beating in your chest from his proximity.
“I’ll teach you.” He announces. “I want-” He breaks off and hesitates. “I can’t- but I need to be close to you.”
“What do you want?” You whisper. “Tell me what you want Mando” You plead.
“I want you.” He growls out, pressing harder against you. A stiffness poking against your hip that you know is not from the Beskar. “I’ve wanted you for months.”
“Oh” You gasp, “you have? I have wanted you for months too. I lo-” You cut yourself off, not wanting to put your heart on the line when he probably wants to fuck you and move on once the urge is satiated.
His low groan sounds like it did when he was fighting unconsciousness just hours before, pained. Strong arms went around your back, tugging you against him and off the console. “I can’t- cyar’ika, I can’t take you, even though I want to.”
“You can’t?” You rest your hands on his beskar-covered chest and you wish you could feel his heartbeat beneath your palm. “You mean you can’t touch me?”
“Our way prevents us from…..being intimate without a riduurok.” He says gently. “A marriage bond.” He sighs and steps back from you, his hands resting on your hips.
“I understand” You nod and reach for the hands resting on your hips. “It’s okay. I’ll leave when we land on the next planet.” You never want to make him uncomfortable or tempt him to break his creed so you figure it is best for you to leave so you can try to forget him.
“No, cyar’ika.” His fingers tighten around your hip. “I- I just need to wait for the Alor’s permission.” He pauses. “The Alor is the leader of our covert. The Armorer promised that she would send a transmission once she had made her decision.” He pauses. “Marriage requests take time, mesh’la.”
“You want to marry me?” You know you are asking too many questions but he has never explained his creed let alone revealed his desire to marry you. “Or do you want to fuck me? I don’t want you to marry me because you want to fuck me” You frown in confusion. He hasn’t explained himself and you wonder if he wants to have sex and you are convenient.
He shakes his head, frustrated that he hasn’t explained himself. “A riddurok is permanent, mesh’la. To Mandalorians, when you marry, you are binding your soul with your partners.” His hand moves up to cover your heart. “I- I have never wanted to ask the Alor to consider someone before you, but I- I didn’t ask you.” His hand drops away. “I’m sorry.”
“You still haven’t” You smile softly, reaching up to caress the metal helmet. “Ask me” You request softly.
“Cyar’ika, would you become my riduur? My wife.” He asks quietly, his nerves making his entire body shiver. He didn’t know what he was going to do if you turned him down. He had already given you his heart and considered you a part of his clan. His request to the Alor having been made before he had left those tunnels for the final time, sure in the knowledge that you were what he wanted. Most requests took a few weeks, but given the decimation of the Covert, he had no clue how long it would take for her to give her decision.
Your heart skips a beat at the nervous tinge to his voice while he asks you to marry him and you pause for a moment. “Yes” You nod, “yes yes yes”
He blows out a loud sigh of relief, his entire body sagging in relief. He had almost died without telling you how he felt. To hear you agree to become his riduur meant that he would soon be able to touch you like he has dreamed of. To strip his beskar and feel your hands on him and to remove his helmet and let you see him. The only person to see him since he was a boy.
“How long do we have to wait?” You sense his relief and suddenly feel impatient to marry your Mandalorian. To finally see his face and know the man behind the helmet.
“Until the Alor gives her permission.” He replies, his fists clenching at the prospect of receiving that transmission. He wanted you, needed you, but he couldn’t touch you until vows were exchanged. “Hopefully not too long, mesh’la. I need you too badly.”
“We nearly died today. You nearly died today. I want to feel something. I want to feel you and know that we survived. Is there nothing we can do?” You plead, your need for him growing now you know he wants you too.
His breath catches. “We can- we can watch each other, but I- as much as I want to, I can’t fuck you.” He groans at the thought of finally sinking inside you and feeling the hot confines of your cunt around him as he gave you every piece of himself.
“Can I see you?” Your breathing grows heavier at the thought of watching him stroke his cock. You’ve gotten off to the thought of how big he is when you’ve seen him striding into a cantina after dealing with a bounty.
“Yes.” He growls, growing harder at the idea of your eyes on him as he fists his cock. “But I want you to show me how you like to touch yourself.” His voice drops several octaves and makes you shudder. “I’ve heard you in your bunk, late at night. Moaning quietly when you thought I was asleep.”
“Fuck” You moan at the thought of watching him and you fluster at the fact that he’s heard you touching yourself. “I, um, want to wear your glove while I- I touch myself” You stammer.
He groans raggedly, his hands coming up to rip off his gloves, revealing tanned skin over the large hands you had imagined. “I’ve imagined you touching yourself, but- doing it with my gloves……” He groans. “Mesh’la, fuck, tell me that you want to do this now.”
You can’t stop staring at his hands, wondering what they would feel like inside of you. You are soaking wet, your panties are ruined, and you look up towards his helmet and nod. “Yes. I want to do this right now. I need something…anything Mando” You whimper.
Even though you can’t see his face, he is closing his eyes at your needy tone. Only his desire to make sure that he does this right keeps him from breaking his Creed. “Go into my bunk and strip. I want to see you spread out, only wearing my glove.” His entire body shifts forward as he presses his forehead to yours again. The closest he can get to kissing you for now.
You shiver under his touch and you reach up to grab onto his helmet, pressing a kiss over the space you think his lips would be. You reach for the glove in his hand and take it, walking towards the ladder. You glance back at him before making your way down to his bunk.
As soon as you are out of sight, Din slips his helmet off and takes a deep breath. Setting the beskar helm in his seat, he runs a hand through his still damp hair. He should clean up, he knows he should. He had fought hard and had plenty of his blood matted in his hair, but the fact that you were stripping down and laying on his bunk, just like he had imagined so many nights made him too impatient to worry about using the ‘fresher.
Your hands are shaking as you remove your clothes. His bunk is neat and clean just like the Mandalorian who owns your heart. You reach for his glove and shudder when you slide your hand into the large glove. It’s too big for your hand and you shiver, imagining the fingers that occupy the leather sliding inside of your dripping cunt. Your knees are giving out at the thought of him finger fucking you with the gloves on so you lay down on his bunk. The air is cool and you shiver against the blanket, spreading your legs and moaning when the cool breezes makes your nipples harden.
Din checked the coordinates to the planet where he had a contact, one that could hopefully lead him to the child’s people. Once he confirmed everything was good, he slipped his helmet back on and quickly climbed down the ladder, his heart beating harder every step closer he gets to where you should be laid out, beautiful and bare for him to enjoy.
You can’t help but run your gloved fingers over your skin. You shiver at the feel of the leather brushing your skin and you close your eyes, imagining that Din is the one touching you. You run your fingers along your thigh and spread your legs, getting lost in your fantasy.
The door opens and air whooshes out of his lung like he took a shot to the stomach. Every tantalizing inch of you is on display. His groan comes out raspy as his helmet moves, his eyes trying to take in the duskiness of your hardened nipples to the neat thatch of curls that are wet between your thighs. Your hand wearing his glove tracing routes on your body that he has only dreamed of touching.
Your eyes open when you hear the click of the door and your hand pauses it’s movements. “Mando” You exhale, your eyes drifting down to the bulge in his pants. Your nerves are pushed aside and you spread your legs as wide as they can go on his bunk. You wish you could see his reaction.
“Din.” He corrects you. “When we are on this ship, when you are in my bed, you cry out my name, mesh’la.” His throaty demand sounds hoarse, as if he has just spent hours screaming into the void. One bare hand, hot and surprisingly soft landed on your ankle as he stared silently for another moment. His fingers tightened around the bones and he yanks you down towards the end of his bunk, your spread legs framing his body as he pushes your foot up to rest on the edge.
You moan, sparks erupting along every inch of skin he caresses and you want more. Need more. “Din” You say his name like a prayer and you are the sinner seeking retribution from his creed. “Din” You repeat and your gloved fingers reach out to touch his beskar clad thigh.
He catches your hand before you can touch the straining bulge. He knows he won’t be able to restrain himself if you touch him. “Touch yourself, mesh’la. I was to see my gloves coated in your wetness from that pretty cunt.” He grunts as he palms his cock, his other hand running up your leg to caress the inside of your knee.
“Fuck” You whimper, unable to believe that the stoic Mandalorian is telling you to touch yourself. You are tempted to rebel but the tilt of his helmet makes you want to please him. Show him what a good riduur you can be. Your fingers slide through your folds, gathering your wetness on the worn leather gloves and you inhale sharply when your fingers brush your swollen clit.
“Fuck.” His gritted out curse comes with his fingers digging into your skin for a moment as he watches your eyes flutter shut. “I’ve watched holo-vids.” He tells you as his hips shift against his hand. “Learning and wishing it was you and me.” His helmet hides his delight at your strangled moan at his words. “Nothing was as good as you look now.”
You shiver at the feel of his fingers gripping your flesh and the image of him watching holo-vids, jerking himself off. “Have you never seen a naked woman?” Your brow is furrowed while you rub your clit, the stitching on the leather creates a delicious friction. You wonder if he has even done anything sexual or if his creed has kept him innocent physically and emotionally.
“Never like this.” He admits, reaching for the zipper of his flight suit. Groaning he pulls himself out of his pants, the tip of his large cock red and leaking as he lets himself go to hold his hand out to your face, palm held towards you expectantly. “Never wanted this bad enough with anyone before.”
“I want to taste you” You whine but spit into his palm to fulfil his silent request. You squeeze your breast with your free hand and slide a finger down to your dripping entrance. Pushing the single digit into your cunt, you whimper and hate that this feels nothing like his fingers or the impressive cock hanging between his legs. “Baby. Want to feel you” You huff but know you are wasting your breath begging for something that cannot happen for the foreseeable future.
He groans as he smears your spit over his cock, wishing that he could let you take him in your mouth, even if he wouldn’t last for long. But he holds fast to the idea that he must not until your vows are exchanged. “When you get to, I’m gonna fill that pretty mouth with my cum.” He grunts as he starts stroking himself with long, slow passes of his hand. “Let you drink me down.”
“What about my cunt?” You smirk, adding a second finger and you love the way the leather feels inside of you. You watch him stroke his cock and it takes every ounce of self control to not reach out and knock his hand away, feel his throbbing length in your palm.
His fingers clamped down on your knee as his hips jerked forward, bucking into his fist. “I’m gonna keep you filled. My fingers, my tongue, my cock.” He vows, wheezing through the modulator. “Wanna bury my face in it. Learn how to make you shriek in pleasure.” You moan as you curl your fingers up.”Deeper mesh’la, stuff your cunt and imagine it’s my fingers.” He commands.
“Oh Din” You gasp and add a third finger, loving how full you are but it’s not enough. It won’t be enough until he is the one inside of you. “Are you close?” You love the way his fingers dig into your knee and you want him to mark your with his fingers and mouth. “You look so good my love. Can’t wait until you can fill me up with your cum” You bite your lip.
“Fuck” He gasps as you see his hand tighten around his shaft, speeding up as he jerks himself off over your prone form. The slick sounds fill the tiny sleeping space as he fucks his hand. “I’ll fill you up until it spills out. Plant warriors in your belly.” He moans out. “Breed you like a good riduur should.”
“Yes” You hiss and your other hand comes down between your legs so you can rub your clit. “Wanna be filled up and bred. Want to be good for you and give you warriors” The wet sound of your fingers slamming into your cunt makes you smirk when you see Din’s hand speed up even more. “Cum on me. Paint me with your seed and I’ll clean myself off” You whimper, “wanna taste you”
A growl vibrates from his chest as his hand on your knee shoves your leg open wider, his feet shuffling forward as he looms over you, furiously stroking the head of his cock. His hips stutter as the first thick pearly white rope of cum erupts from the swollen tip of his cock to splatter across your stomach and breasts. He moans your name as he shudders through his release, wave after wave of his seed falling on your body.
You wish you could see the look on his face as his cum paints your skin. Your fingers curl inside your cunt and you clench around your digits. “Din” Your eyes close and you soak the leather glove with your cum. You frantically rub your clit while his seed spurts over your stomach and breasts. Your thighs shake and you use the same fingers that were rubbing your clit to scoop up some of his cum. Your moan echoes in his bunk when the salty taste of his seed hits your taste buds when you shove those fingers in your mouth.
He mutters a curse when he sees your mouth wrap around the cum stained leather of his gloves, milking one last dribble of his cum out of the tip and pushing his hips higher so it falls on your clit to slide down the folds to your cunt. “Fuck, cyar’ika.” His winded pants make him sound like he’s run miles through the deserts of Tatooine. He stares as you as his cock starts to soften, drinking in your expressions.
“Mmm I wish that drop was dripping out of me. I cannot wait to feel you move inside of me” Your own chest heaves. “Wish I was your riduur now so I could see your face” You hum as you shift back onto his bunk and rest your head on his pillow.
He groans and reaches for a clean shirt that was hanging next to his bunk to wipe your body off with. Clambering onto the cot with you, he hovers over your body, leaning down to knock his helmet gently against your forehead. Another kiss in the only way he could give it to you. “Soon, cyar’ika. You will be. Until you are, we can learn each other this way.” He says quietly, knowing he will be checking everyday for a transmission from the Alor.
“I can’t wait. I love you Din” You pull the glove off of your hand and offer it to him. “Do you want me to clean this?” You ask when he leans back from pressing his forehead against yours.
“I-I love you too.” His tone was hushed as he told you something that he had never said to any other woman before. He takes the glove and tosses it onto the table that has been jammed into the small space. Most likely where he sets his helmet when he sleeps. “No.” He shifts to his side before rolling onto his back and urging you to lay on him. “When you sleep I want to taste the flavor of your cum from the tips.” He says sleepily as his bare hands fold around your shoulders.
“Din” you moan at the thought of him sucking on the leather while you sleep. “Do you want me to go back to my bunk so you can sleep without your helmet on?” You mumble, eyes already closing as you rest your head on the cool beskar chest plate.
“No.” His answer was immediate as his arm tightened around you. “You sleep here from now on. It is where you belong.” His eyes close behind the impassive visor of his helmet, a smile curving his lips as he holds you to him.
“Okay” You murmur sleepily, your orgasm making you weary. “We can make my bunk into a nursery” You smile against the metal at the thought. “Night Din” You close your eyes and drift off while Din’s fingers stroke your back.
He grunts and holds you tighter, hoping the Alor would not make him wait too long to take you as his riduur. “Goodnight Cyar’ika.”