Beautiful Truths

Beautiful Truths

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: After hiring you for your unique ability of being able to detect lies, the Mandalorian unknowingly consumes a tea that has adverse effects. You decide to help him, and find out some surprising truths along the way.

WC: 5k

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI mild dubious consent due to “sex pollen”, references to child abuse & emotional abuse, references to addiction, references to canon typical violence, vaginal fingering, helmet comes OFF, oral sex (f receiving), praise!!, unprotected P in V sex, and you know I always have to get some softness in there 

A/N: This one kind of got away from me. Sex pollen & tent sex thots got me to start this story, but reader’s background turned dark unexpectedly and I had to go for it. PLEASE read the warnings - reader references abuse inflicted by parents with addiction disorders, but we don’t go into heavy details. 

I kind of love these idiots together, and may revisit them at a later date. 🖤

Un-beta’d. As always, comments & feedback are so so appreciated! I love to hear from anyone who reads, it makes my entire day every time. Thank you! :)

AO3

----------------------------

"Hello?" 

You slowly pick your head up and twist your neck around from where you're laying facing the inner wall of the bunk, groaning as you do. What the hell? 

"Hey. Are you there?" 

Your brow furrows as you push yourself up by your elbows. Static is coming from below the bunk and you throw your legs off the side to search for the commlink responsible for interrupting your nap. You’re annoyed, briefly - until you realize that the sound of his voice, modulated even more than usual coming through the communication device, means something is wrong.

The commlink had obviously rolled under the bunk ages ago and was now covered in your dirty flight suits. You honestly didn’t even know it was there - he’s never called while he works. 

"Mando?" you say as soon as the comm unit is in your hand.

"I need you to meet me outside the village."

His voice seems deeper, and he sounds anxious - insistent maybe - but not panicked. Still, he sounds strange.

"...okay. Why?" 

"I can explain once you're here. Just, come quickly.”

You let out a light, incredulous scoff at the Mandalorian's ominous directive. This is weird. If he needed you for....something, he could have just come and collected you from the Crest himself. The village wasn’t a far walk from where you’d landed earlier today. Why was he asking you to leave the ship? 

"I'm sending my location," Mando says when you don’t respond immediately, "See you soon."

You drop the commlink on the bunk and rub your eyes, brows pinching together. Your grumpiness overtakes the confusion, but both emotions are followed by a sting of shame - you were having a really good dream, but its subject matter was nothing you'd ever admit to.

It’s been a few standard months since you’d joined the shiny bounty hunter aboard his Razor Crest and proven yourself an acceptable work associate - but only a few weeks had passed since you’d come to terms with your relentlessly annoying pining after him. 

It was nothing you couldn’t keep to yourself - by nature, you were used to keeping secrets - but once you had any amount of time to yourself it had become nearly impossible to keep the fantasies at bay. His commanding presence in close proximity to you on a daily basis was surely enough to fill the rest of your years with daydreams (and wet dreams), but his stature and competency was only part of it.

He was kind, and not only to you. It shocked you, the first time you'd witnessed the depths of compassion hidden beneath his blaster-proof armor that left most beings wondering if he was even human most of the time. 

But he was kind, and he was fair, and he was honest - and also human, as he’d informed you with a hint of amusement in his voice when you’d asked.

His honesty was, admittedly, the most important.

----------------------------

Your mother had never been able to explain to you how your “gift” came about. The way she skirted around the question affirmed that she knew the answer - considering that you would know if she lied. 

Because that was it - by some strange twist of the universe, you had been given the “talent” of knowing if someone was telling the truth. 

Or, more accurately, you could tell if someone was lying. Lies by omission were harder to detect, but boldfaced fabrications struck a distinct chord in you. It couldn't inform you of where the actual truth lied, but being aware when someone was bluffing still had its major advantages. 

Unfortunately for you, your parents were spice runners - and because of you, they were damn good ones. With a human lie detector at their side in business dealings, they were able to make only the best connections, only work the cleanest jobs, and were rarely double-crossed. 

It wasn’t a hereditary trait that you knew of or were able to locate in any research, and you don’t think that you were born with the ability to see through the words of those who woefully attempted to deceive you. 

If you had to guess, you think your parents had made some sort of terrifying deal with a sorcerer or witch on any of the various backwater planets you were accustomed to visiting in the spice business. Maybe they had paid them, in credits or in spice, to cast some spell or brew some elixir that gave you your unique insight. 

They probably had sought after it for themselves, but for some reason it was handed to you instead, maybe as a joke - a funny way for a mage to cure their boredom for a day.

Or maybe it was a punishment. 

It wasn’t late into your teens that you had first tried to leave. Your parents no longer saw you as their child, and they hadn’t for some time. You were only a tool - a means to fill their pockets and their bloodstreams. 

But a means that was theirs, and not one that they were willing to relinquish so easily. 

Your first few escape attempts were pathetic, but arguably the most traumatic. You still were holding on to hope that they would miss you as their daughter, not just an instrument to fuel their addictions. Your hopes were crushed after your first recapture - your father pulling you by the arm back onto the ship and shouting something about “knowing your place” and making sure you were aware of the single thing that you were useful for was: making them credits.

It's been 15 years since you'd first tried to leave, and 10 since you'd succeeded. You'd tried to put all the distance in the galaxy between you and them, and mostly you’d achieved that. But you'd still sometimes hear their names in dirty cantinas, eavesdropping enough to learn of their fall from grace after getting wrapped up in bad runs and the wrong syndicates. 

Regrettably, it had never kept them from their endless search for you.

That's how you ended up here. 

You were camped out on a remote and sparsely populated planet when the reflection of your small fire on beskar nearly caused your heart to burst.

You knew why he was there - he was another bounty hunter hired by your parents to bring you back to them. This was a Mandalorian though, and you knew you probably wouldn't be able to slip your way out of his grasp. 

Your stunned state was broken when he spoke words you hadn't expected, 

"I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold." 

Cold?

You bolted. 

It didn't take long for him to catch you. You hit the dirt hard, the whipcord wrapped around your legs suspending any belief that you could put distance between yourself and the boots you could hear crunching over rocks and dirt behind you. 

Binders were attached to your wrists and large hands pulled you to your feet in a second. He was silent as he ushered you to walk with a blaster against your back.

As you stumbled where he led you, the weight of his words were ringing in your ears. 

"They- they said you could bring me in dead?" 

He didn't respond and your eyes stung with tears that you had long since forgotten you could produce. 

So, they had finally had enough. It had been a while since you'd run into one of their hired hunters - they must have been saving for someone like this Mandalorian. But this time, they didn't care if you made it back to them dead or alive. 

As long as you weren't free. 

The bounty hunter led you to his ship, up the ramp and into the cockpit, still cuffed. He pushed you down into the co-pilot seat and had initiated takeoff sequences, lifted off, and traversed through the rough atmosphere before you could think of anything to say. 

You just told him everything. 

You rambled, telling him who you were, who your parents were, why they wanted you, how long you’d been on the run, and basically everything in between while he sat in silence, not stopping you from speaking but never turning to look at you. 

During your endless monologue, there were a few moments where you thought he might not even be listening - but plenty where you were sure, from his limited body language, that you had his attention. 

You were exhausted, your throat raw and dry, and your voice was almost gone by the time you finished speaking. After a few minutes of silence he finally swiveled in his chair to face you. 

Your blood ran cold as he just sat there and observed you before finally saying, “I don’t believe you.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s a lie.” 

He took another minute to stare at you before he let out a scoff through the modulator, tilted his head slightly, and turned back to the console. His hands moved expertly across the controls, pressing buttons and flipping switches until the Crest jumped out of hyperspace and the navigation computer shut down. He turned back to you.

“The bounty on you is not very high. Work is hard to find nowadays, otherwise I wouldn’t have even picked it up.” 

Your eyes widened not only at the amount of words he was saying, but what they implied.

“I could destroy your puck,” he offered, “But what’s in it for me?”

“I can work for you, for free,” you say quickly, sitting up straight as the fatigue in your body and mind dissipated, “I can keep you on the right track with bounties, I- I know how to use a blaster - I even know my way around a hyperdrive. I can be very useful.”

He only stared for a moment, and you wished desperately for the first - but certainly not the last - time that you could see his face, could gauge his reactions. 

He used his pointer finger to press a single button on his vambrace and the binders demagnetized and fell in your lap. He turned back to the controls to point the nose of the ship in a different direction, entered new coordinates, and made the jump into hyperspace.

“Okay. Let’s see how useful you can be.”

----------------------------

You're quite deep into a forested area when you finally approach the location he had sent you, roughly 30 minutes after leaving the Crest. There's a single sleeping pad placed under a makeshift tent made of a tarp tied with rope to a few low hanging tree branches, and a fire with a kettle and a small mug next to it.

He’s sitting on a stump further back from the fire, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his helmet directed at hands that are trembling slightly. 

"Have you been…camping out here?" you ask, incredulous.

"I have been camping when I work, recently," he sighs, his voice sounding off somehow, ''It has been less distracting than coming back to the ship - where you are." 

His words are truthful, but that doesn't explain the meaning behind them.

"I- I'm sorry I made you come all the way here," he says with a shake of his head, ignoring the vagueness in his response and you place the discrepancy in his voice - he sounds pained.

"I couldn't help myself. You - fuck - you can leave, if you want to." 

He stands as he breathes out the last few words, stepping towards where you stand between the sleeping pad and the small fire.

"Mando, what is going on?" 

You swear you hear a groan escape his helmet. You give him a look that surely conveys your deep confusion, and he sighs deeply, shaking his head.

"I- I was doing some recon outside an establishment that the quarry frequented…I bought some tea from a vendor out front. It looked like regular kriffing tea…but now I think I know why the crone selling it wouldn't stop giggling at me." 

You raise your eyebrows and tilt your head forward, waiting for him to elaborate. 

"I didn't even drink the whole cup. It must have some properties that are-," he cuts himself off, standing an arm's length from you now and although you can't see his face, you can feel his eyes boring into you. 

Your breath catches at the sensation and you can't help the tightness you feel beneath your navel at the rasp of his breathing pushing through the modulator in his helmet.  

His chest is rising and falling in earnest now, as he doesn't break his gaze as he tilts his head to the side and swears under his breath.

"Fuck- it must be an aphrodisiac. A- a strong one." 

Oh. 

"Shit, Mando, I-" your eyes widen and you blink rapidly as you try to find words, but he lets out another subdued, but pained sounding, groan when you say his name and reaches out to grab your upper arm. 

You lose the ability to speak. 

His gloved thumb moves shakily across your bare arm and he watches with wonder as your skin reacts to his touch with goosebumps.

As if instinctively, he grabs your other arm and his grip is almost too tight for comfort. He's never touched you like this before - to be honest, you don't think he's ever touched you, besides maybe an accidental shoulder bump in close quarters. 

But, his grip isn't making you uncomfortable. Although the touch is through the leather of his gloves, the fact that he's holding on to you sends your heart racing. Even in your confusion, you feel yourself melting under his hands.

"You should leave," he says, trepidation in his voice, and if his unrelenting hold on your arms wasn't sign enough of the contrary, you feel a slight hum in your chest that tells you he doesn't quite mean it.

You inhale a bit too deeply after realizing you'd been holding your breath. 

"Well I- I don't think you want me to," you manage to whisper.

"What I want isn't important." 

There is no telltale hum from that. 

Maker, what are you doing? This is an inherently bad idea - in the last few months, you have felt safer and more secure than you have in your entire life. He is already doing and risking so much for you, would this be taking advantage of him, even more than you felt you might already be? Did he actually want this, or was it just whatever substance was coursing through his veins right now? 

Or, after these effects have worn off, will he feel ashamed? Will he think that you had felt obligated, or that you had never wanted, or dreamed about this before? 

But Maker, you literally have dreamed of this. 

You take a deep breath and narrow your eyes in an attempt to find his through the visor while you search for something to say that might relieve you of your hesitation.

"What if I want to stay?" 

Mando's already clouded brain short circuits. Your words truly don't make sense to him but they do send what feels like all the blood in his body to his cock. He chokes back another embarrassing groan, and is unable to stop himself from ripping his gloves off to put his hands on either side of your neck. 

You gasp at the feeling of his rough palms against your skin and a consuming heat descends through your chest until it reaches between your legs. 

“You- You don’t mean that,” he says, the words openly defying the reaction your body is having to him.

“I want to stay,” you whisper.

He closes the distance between you and you reach up to splay your palms on his cuirass. The feeling of cool beskar on your skin along with his prominent hardness against your thigh creates from you an involuntary, but wanton, whimper. 

"Oh, fuck," he breathes out in response, his already deep voice dropping an extra octave as his hands slip down to grab your waist and he involuntarily grinds against you, "Fuck, you have no idea how many times I've tried to imagine a sound like that coming from you." 

It's your brain's turn to malfunction, because that wasn’t a lie.

You know he is speaking truthfully, but the truth doesn’t keep you from being floored at the idea that, like yourself, he has thought about this before - and multiple times. Your eyes grow wide at the revelation and your head is spinning as you try to sort through everything that you're feeling. 

Arousal is, by far, beating everything else out. 

"Are you sure you want this? You have to be sure…" he murmurs, and he’s unable to keep his hands from roaming to your back and squeezing at the flesh above your ass.

"Because if you aren't sure, you need to leave," he practically gasps out, looking down at the limited space between your bodies, "I- with you so close, I can't promise I won't do something that you will regret, if you aren’t." 

You move your hands to the fabric of his cowl, forcing him to look up so you can see the visor and fruitlessly search for his face beneath it - hoping you can convey your earnest desperation through your expression. 

You’re breathing almost as hard as he is now, the anticipation building almost too intensely as you feel yourself pulse and throb between your legs. 

“Mando, I’m sure.”

Not needing further reassurance, he drops his head again to gently put his forehead to yours, and his hands slide the small distance to cup your ass, fingers digging and grabbing at your flesh as you arch your back and press into him. 

You immediately wish you could lean in and kiss him - the inability to do so leaves you feeling somewhat awkward, but that thought dissipates once he brings one hand to your waistband, placing a finger underneath and trailing it around to your front. 

Flipping his hand quickly, he places his palm against your belly and pushes downwards until he reaches the wetness that's gathered between your thighs. The sinful, modulated moan that reaches your ears as he dips his fingers into you lights your skin on fire. 

“God, you’re so wet for me already,” he says and pulls back to look at your face. Your lips are parted and your eyelids are heavy as you struggle to keep them open against the feeling of his fingers inside of you. The small fire has gotten lower since you've arrived here, and the dim light casting moving shadows across your face reminds him of something ethereal.

“You are so beautiful” he says with a touch of awe in his voice, quickening the pace of his fingers as he drags them completely out of you, up to circle your clit a few times, and then back inside. The movement is strikingly similar to your own ministrations when you touch yourself, and you’re quickly left gasping for air and clinging to him. 

“Mando, please,” you moan, gripping him tighter to keep your balance. He suddenly removes himself from you to step back and pull you both down onto the sleeping pad. 

“Din,” he says once you’re both kneeling on the ground facing each other.

“What?” 

“My name - Din. I want to hear you say it.”

Your breath catches in your throat before you let out a surprised exhale. You pinch your brow and lick your lips before whispering with a small smile, “Din.”

He lets out a deep, relieved sounding breath and puts his palms on your shoulders to lower you to the ground. 

Din’s hands make quick work of removing your top and you kick your boots off to allow him to pull off your pants. Once you’re freed of your clothing, the vulnerability of it as he looms over you, still fully armored, stirs the already boiling heat in your stomach. You can also see how achingly hard he is under his trousers, and you shiver.

He lets his hands wander over your body, one hand gliding up your side to your breast and he pulls the other up to your face to press his thumb to your lips. You whimper before you part them and use the tip of your tongue to drag a line up the pad, tasting yourself from when it was between your thighs just moments ago. 

“Fuck,” he shudders, unable to tear his gaze from your face but still using his other hand to roll your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, “So soft…”

He pinches your nipple a little harder and you squirm beneath him, pulling his thumb into your mouth to suck and swirl your tongue around it.

“Thought about this so many times…”

Not a lie.

He removes his thumb from your mouth and gets back to his knees, his chest rapidly rising and falling as his gaze moves down your figure. He grabs one leg and lifts it to spread you open, groaning again. 

“You look so fucking good like this, spread out for me. Fuck, I want-” he stops, head snapping back to your face.

“Can you close your eyes, mesh’la?” he asks, his hands lifting off you to begin hurriedly taking off his armor, piece by piece, “Can you keep them shut?”

You prop yourself up on your elbows and nod your head in response, mesmerized by the sight of him removing his pauldrons and cuirass, before you realize why he’s asking. 

“Wait, Din, are you sure? You don’t have to-”

He interrupts you by saying your name and leaning over you again, now beskar-free with the exception of his helmet. 

“I’m sure. Close your eyes.”

You blink several times before complying. You hear a hiss and the crunch of dirt under the last piece of his armor being placed on the ground next to where you lay. A cool breeze blows over your naked body and you shiver just before his weight is back on you, and you feel his breath on your neck before you hear it - it sounds strange, almost, outside of his helmet.

Din wraps an arm around you and places his lips to your neck - it surprises you how soft they are at first - but he presses kisses harder and with more urgency as he moves up to your chin before crushing your mouth with his. The kiss begins clumsy, but the spark between you is staggering and you both are soon struggling to catch your breath while trying to stay attached at the lips. 

You reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair - it’s curly, you think, not cropped short as you might have expected of someone who lives all their waking hours inside of a helmet. You barely have a second to contemplate what color it might be before he prods your lips with his tongue and you eagerly let him in, the taste of him sending rolling flames through you.

His hand returns to between your thighs, fingers making quick and precise motions over your clit that make you moan into his mouth. He breaks the kiss to travel back to your neck, then down your chest. He stops at your breast, swirling his tongue around your stiff nipple and giving it a light nip, and you hear him chuckle darkly at the squeaking noise you make. 

“I want to taste you, is that okay?,” he asks and, even though it’s muffled against your flesh, the sound of his voice without the modulator asking you for permission makes your whole body break out in goosebumps.

“Fuck, yes, Din,” you manage to gasp out as you shudder against him.

He descends further down your body, using kisses and nibbles to mark newfound territory on his way. Din has never put his lips on anyone before, but the way your body responds under his mouth sends shockwaves through his system and has him desperate to find out what else he can bring out of you using it.

He wishes he could draw this out, that he could take as much time as necessary to learn every part of you intimately enough that he could recall it from memory for the rest of his life - but the substance from the tea is roaring in his ears loud enough that he thinks he might explode if he doesn’t keep pushing forward. 

Din moves past the apex of your legs at first, peppering your inner thighs with his lips before pulling back to allow himself a moment to admire you from this angle. 

You shift your hips slightly, unable to keep still when you know he’s between your legs, and the movement breaks his momentary trance. He wastes no more time and places his tongue flat against you, licking once from your entrance to your clit. 

You can’t help the loud moan that escapes you, and it gives him the confidence to continue. He’s somewhat hesitant at first in this new territory, but quickly picks up on your body language, vocalizations, and the tugs of your fingers in his hair to figure out how best to take care of you. 

It’s not long before he’s rutting himself against the ground, chasing relief from his cock that is somehow getting harder with every cry you make and each arch of your spine lifting off the sleeping pad. 

He’s focused though, and determined to have you come apart in his mouth before he comes apart himself - as he knows he will once he’s finally inside of you. He directs all his attention to your clit with his tongue and then puts two fingers inside, increasing both in speed until your thighs are pressing in on either side of his head and your hips are lifting off the ground in sporadic motions.

You squeeze your eyes shut even tighter and see white, your orgasm overtaking you as you tighten around his fingers. Din slows as you ride it out, and is already traveling back up your body when your hips finally drop back to the ground. 

You feel him hovering over your face, breath heavy and warm. You blindly reach out to grab him by the back of his neck and pull him down to kiss you deeply. 

“Maker, I can’t- I have to feel you,” he grits out, breaking the kiss early, “Turn around.”

You push up and flip to your stomach, and clumsily get to your hands and wobbly knees. The pad is thin and you can feel the rocky earth beneath you, but the sound of a zipper and the shuffling of clothing erases any semblance of discomfort. 

You feel two rough hands grab your waist and your knees slip quickly across the pad as he pulls you backwards to meet where he’s kneeling. He lines himself up to your entrance and the stretch you feel as he slides into you causes your arms to give out temporarily before you catch yourself with your elbows and arch your back.

“Oh my god, Din,” you whine before he slowly pulls out and then snaps his hips forward with force, plowing you further into the ground and you tighten around him in response. He starts fucking into you with rhythm, but no less intensity. 

“Fuck,” he says, his voice shaking, “You take me so well. I knew you would, thought about this so many times.”

He accentuates the last three words with powerful thrusts and you moan loudly, knowing that he means them. 

You extend your arms to lay them flat on the ground in front of you and arch your back further to lay your head down on its side, facing away from the fire. You take a moment to open your eyes minimally, and you see that what is left of the firelight is casting a shadow of the two of you against the tarp hanging from the tree.

The image of his helmetless silhouette thrusting into yours takes you by surprise, and you close your eyes again, crying out as another wave crashes into you. You feel your legs shake and you clench around him, the orgasm sudden and overwhelming for both of you. 

Din chokes out a gasp and pulls from you instantly. He lets out unsteady breaths and a groan as he empties himself behind you, and you secretly revel in the sensation when it finds its way dripping down your thighs. 

He places a hand on your back as he pants to catch his breath, and you slide your knees back to lay on your stomach while you wait for him to retrieve a cloth from his pack to clean you off. You lay patiently with your chin on your forearms, head swimming, until you hear him replace his helmet on his head and he lays down on his back beside you. 

You sit up to pull your shirt over your head and then lay back down on your side, facing him. The fire is almost completely out, the pulsating embers providing just enough light to see as far as where he lays. 

You’re chewing on the inside of your lips, wanting to say something but have no idea where to start. He finally rolls his head to look back at you, but stays mute as you.

His chest moves steadily, slow breathing coming with ease now. You smile when he simply tilts his head towards you and raises his arm, opening a space for you at his side. Sliding the small distance to cozy up beside him, you place your head on his shoulder and a hand on his chest. He brings his hand to your back, ghosting courses across it with his fingers and occasionally giving your shoulder a light squeeze.

Neither of you say anything, aware that words aren’t necessary yet. 

You will need to talk, but it can wait until daybreak. 

After a while your eyes start to droop, fatigue finally taking refuge in your mind. Just before you fall asleep, he tilts his head to softly place the side of his helmet on the top of your head.

“I meant what I said. I’ve wanted…you.”

“I know.”