I Literally Just Need To Edit The Fic I've Been Promising For Weeks Now Like This Post To Give Me The

Thoughts on Episode 7

Spoilers below the cut so read at your own transgression.

Am I the only one disappointed by this episode? It was the best of the season, but I still felt like a lot of subplots leading up to it were just thrown away.

Like I still don't get Paz's son subplot. He didn't act like a scared parent until they got the nest but if that had been my kid after a few days I would be burning the whole planet down to get to my kid. And for Paz to choose to sacrifice himself once again orphaning his foundling... either Paz has NO fatherly instincts or this wasn't thought through.

I also keep side eyeing Bo. It's great she's admitted to some of her failings but she should have let Koska spill the beans about her crimes cause so far it seems like almost everyone is in the dark as to what Bo has done in Clone Wars and Rebels and it's giving me a lot of anxiety. I'm glad people want Bo's redemption but the sins she committed aren't the kind you just... forgive overnight no matter how much you love her as a character.

I do applaud them for writing in her third failed attempt at taking back Mandalore by proving her curse exists for taking back the saber on a technicality. But I'm still unsure of how they didn't know the base was there when they put together a whole fleet for just that reason and Bo's home was destroyed by those same TIE fighters. I don't get why she's shocked.

I might be being overly critical thinking about this, but I just didn't like it as much as I had hoped but it's exactly what I had expected and longed for at the beginning of the season. Still excited for next week, but at this point I feel like I'm tapping out of the show if it continues like this next season.

Storm Dividers

Requested by @morganlefaye13​

Please like and reblog if you use or save.

Dividers List

Getting these done at least a month in advance cause I know my tired ass during the school year might be too tired to fully participate during the month.

KINKTOBER 2022

HELLO EVERYONE!!!

It's that time of year again!! Kinktober is back, and by popular demand, I have created a new list for this year with some new options that last year didn't have.

For each day, there are two options, giving you optimal comfort level of creating! Or you can try something else and challenge yourself!

The image with the list, as well as a text version, is below the cut! I’ve also included a themed header if you’d like to post that along with your creations!

I’m so excited to see what you come up with! Any fandom! Any characters! Any creations!

Please tag my account (@the-purity-pen) and #tppkinktober2021 in your creations so I can see!

My only stipulation is to PLEASE be over the age of 18 in order to create for this event. Any minors participating and tagging me, will be blocked.

69 // Dirty Talk

A/B/O // Floor Sex

Anal // Glove Kink

Breath Play // Missionary

Breeding // Leather/Latex

Cockwarming // Morning Sex

Costumes // Sex Toys

Creampie // Voice Kink

Double Penetration // Stripping

Drunk Sex // Spanking

Erotic Photos // Rimming

Exhibitionism/Voyeurism // Hate/Angry Sex

Face Sitting/Fucking // Dry Humping

Fisting // Love Bites/Marks

Group Sex // Overstimulation

Bath/Shower Sex // Intercrural Sex

Licking // Pegging

Bondage // Lingerie

Boot Worship // Masturbation

Dirty Dancing // Mirror Sex

Nipple Play // Praise Kink

Object Insertion // Phone Sex

Food Play // Orgasm Denial

Outdoor Sex // Tender Sex

Pet Play // Sex Pollen

Sexting // Wax Play

Sensory Deprivation // Stockings

Formal Wear // Strap-Ons

Body Worship // Table Sex

Public Sex // Temperature Play

FREE CHOICE

On a Cold, Cold Night

Pre-Season 1 Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: T

Warnings: brief severe broken bone and wound description, otherwise mostly fluff

Word Count: 4,735

Summary: On a planet with the looming threat of a blizzard rolling in, an abandoned cabin and quarry on the verge of death has Din making choices he thought he'd never have to make in his profession.

On a cold, cold night, the Mandalorian waded in thick snow, guided on his journey with just the sensors in his helmet and the full moon lingering above him in the night sky. The wind whipped at his armor, tugging at his cowl, and screamed at him to turn back. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

If it hadn’t been for the odd shape highlighted in the moonlight, Din would never have been able to spot the cabin amongst the backdrop of trees and snow, even with the sensors in his helmet.

He had been relying on tips and hushed whispers to find his latest bounty, and if it hadn’t been for the continuous cold, Din may have even enjoyed this hunt. But snow whipped at his beskar as he trudged through thigh-high snow, its icy hands no match for the brute strength harbored underneath all the metal and padding.

Din stopped and scanned his surroundings, but no heat signature could be picked up from the white hills and trees that tower over him. A perfect place to hide out and snipe if one had the skill to, but as far as he could tell, he was alone. And he wasn’t sure what to make of that just yet.

He continued forward, the snow straining his already tired muscles. As the cabin grew nearer, the tracking fob on his belt began to blink faster and faster, its annoying beeping a comforting sound of relief, knowing that this job will soon be over.

But as he grew closer, he couldn’t help but feel as though something was… off. The cabin itself was old and decaying, a structure that has undoubtedly housed generations far before Din was ever born. No light peeked through broken windows and no sound nor movement could be detected with the naked eye.

Din paused again and amped up the sensitivity of his heat sensor mode and eyed the cabin. It was faint, and he nearly missed it, but he found a trace of a heat signature unmoving within the structure’s walls. He waited, so still, he could’ve been mistaken for a tree. But the body his helmet picked up didn’t move for the five minutes he observed.

Something was definitely wrong.

This bounty was supposed to be a considerable threat, from what Din recalled of his puck and the information Karga gave him. Another runaway wanted by their father, a deadly stray who had taken out plenty of bounty hunters before Karga practically begged Din to take the job. It was a pity the father wanted his kid alive, the job would’ve been so much easier if he could’ve dragged a dead body back between the snow and cold.

The criminal in question hadn’t come with a photo, nor gender, just their age and some basic information that was enough for Din to go off of. They had planet hopped for the past year before disappearing, and his search led him to the very cabin he now stood before.

Din hesitated, but the blinking light and sound of the fob were adamant that his quarry was indeed inside. He let out a sigh, trying to peer in through the darkness of the cabin before caving and trying the door.

To his surprise, it opened rather easily. He waited for the inevitable, the sound of a blaster going off, the blinding flash, the pressure as the plasma bounced off his armor and destroying whatever is unfortunately in its path. Instead, he was met with a deafening silence and contrasted darkness caused by the moonlight pouring through the window.

Din took a step and the wooden floors creaked and gave a little underneath his weight. He waited, but still was only met with silence and darkness. He closed the door behind him and blended into the shadows, eyes flicking over whatever was exposed by the light of the moon.

He could faintly make out furniture within the one-room home. A table with two chairs appeared to be pushed up against one wall next to a window where the moon can be seen through the ice-tinted glass. The circular rug laid at his feet took up most of the living space, disheveled and faded with time and love.

The rest was too dark to see, and he immediately tapped his helmet for his night vision feature. The cabin really was modest, but his eyes were immediately drawn to a figure lying in the cabin’s only double bed.

He could see the scratch marks his quarry had made pushing the bed closer to what Din can now see is a fireplace. Darkened wood and soot have stained the firebox, but the last fire it held had snuffed out a long time ago.

Despite being inside and no longer assaulted by the cold, brutal winds; Din could still feel just how chilled the cabin was regardless. The air lightly whistled through the cracks and broken pieces of the windows that should have been boarded up long before the storm ever touched down.

For once, Din felt a tad out of his element. He was used to violence, fighting, a struggle, begging, or bribery. Not silence, not darkness, and not a barely warm but still alive body laying on a bed as if they were a gift from the maker Himself for Din to easily snag and be on his way. Din considered calling out to his target, to ensure it was even them, but his voice got stuck in his throat. And the now fully lit up fob on his belt told him his hunch was correct, regardless of the silence and lack of facial features to identify the quarry.

After hesitating, Din finally found the nerve to quietly make his way over to the body on the bed.

His target was hidden underneath layers of musky, old, moth-eaten blankets. The top of their head poked out from underneath, but everything else was tucked away from sight. With more caution than he was used to, Din slowly peeled the blankets back and gently nudged the body from facing opposite him to laying on their back.

Din flinched. He knew his quarry’s age, but he was still surprised to find that the child he was after was a grown woman a lot older than he was made to believe, and also at how fragile she looked. She barely had the energy to shiver from the lack of warmth, limbs stiff as if in rigor mortis.

The girl was ashen, lips a grayish-blue, and her clothes were stiff as if glued to her from the cold. Din sucked in air, looking her over, wondering if she was even worth the credits to bring back. It had taken him, a healthy human male, hours to trek through the snow to find her from the nearest village. In this state, would she even make the trip alive?

Would she even survive overall?

Fists clenching and unclenching as he overlooked the girl, he monitored how shallow her breathing was. Din sighed and knew he was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Out of caution, he took a photo of the girl just in case his next actions resulted in failure.

He tucked the quarry back into her blankets and sifted through the room until he found tools, rusted, but still in rather good shape. The sparseness of the cabin was infuriating, and he ended up needing to break the table down to use the flat parts to board up the windows.

He swore the whole time he was outside, fighting with the brutal winds and the cold to nail each piece of wood until he couldn’t see the glass anymore. It meant the cabin was even darker when he returned, but he doubted his sleeping companion cared all that much at the moment.

Din grabbed the remaining pieces of the table and snapped them into smaller fragments, each leg was broken in threes and placed them in the fireplace. Adding some dried unused paper he found in a chest near the bed, he used his flame thrower to ignite the kindling and the fire in the hearth roared to life, strong and resilliant. Din allowed himself to breathe and enjoy the warmth the fire brought as he kneeled in front of it.

The cabin, although still cold, was much more comfortable than when he first arrived. Din had turned his fob off and placed it in his pack and unhooked his cape to dry off on a hat rack nailed into the wall.

Din glanced over at the girl, but not much has changed. Once he felt warm enough himself, he stood and checked on the girl. Her breathing was less shallow and the sensors in his helmet told him she was starting to grow warmer, but it may be a day or two before he can get her to a healthy enough state to drag her back to the Crest where he can treat her properly before throwing her into carbonite.

With nothing to do other than wait, Din dragged a chair close to the quarry’s bed and sat, arms crossed, gazing into the fire.

The cold jolted him out of a sleep he didn’t remember falling into, his body slightly trembling. Din wasn’t sure how long he had been out for, but it must have been for a few hours. His body trembled and Din squinted into the cabin, confused, until he realized the fire had started to die out.

Din swore under his breath and took the poker next to the fireplace and stabbed at the kindling. The fire breathed to life before it weakened, threatening to snuff out again. Din frantically tore through the cabin and picked up any books and loose paper he could use as kindling.

The fire accepted Din’s offerings happily, jumping back to life as it washed the room in hues of oranges. Din sighed, shoulders tense, eyeing the fire as if he didn’t trust the thing to keep going. Outside, the wind rattled his makeshift blinds, and the cabin groaned under the pressure of a storm he hadn't known was coming when he had come to fetch the quarry.

With the panic of the fire now gone, a new panic crept up on Din. He quickly stands and tugs the blanket back to look over his girl and sucked air through his teeth, seeing just how worse off she looked.

Just like the fire, sometime in the hours of his sleep, she had changed positions, her front facing the fire as if trying to get warm. But unlike how he found her before, the quarry’s glazed eyes were open and gazing at him from beneath hooded lids, barely lucid.

The quarry licked her chapped lips in vain, the small smile pulled at the cracks in her lips, causing the crevices to start to bleed. But the cold made the blood move more like tar than life’s vital liquid, and Din couldn’t help but flinch at the sight.

“I should’ve known death would come for me in the form of a Mandalorian.”

She weakly lifted a shaky arm as if to reach out to him, but the limb immediately fell limp and her eyes rolled back into her skull. Din swore and ripped off his gloves, forcing her to look at him but her eyes remained shut.

“Hey, girl, I need you to stay awake. Can you hear me?”

He swore when he realized how icy her skin felt under his fingers. She felt like a marble statue, and for the first time since he took this bounty, Din began to seriously panic.

Din pushed down the blankets once more to really take the girl in. It couldn’t be just the cold making her this weak this fast. Din honestly was angry at himself for not realizing that the arm she hadn’t used, the one that she had cradled close to her body since he first found her, was broken. Even through the makeshift bandage job, Din could tell the way she tried to set it hadn’t been good enough and most likely had been done in haste between the storm approaching and perhaps a hunt gone wrong.

Din emptied out his own pack, found his med kit, and immediately arranged a bacta needle and the tools he needed to properly set the bone. He gently peeled the fabric from her arm and hissed at the wound that awaited him.

The skin was rotting around the opened juncture of the wound, and he could see a small flash of white where her bone was. Luckily for her, it was a clean break, but unluckily for her, she may lose the arm if his medical skills and the bacta don’t cut it.

Din rummaged through the small kitchen’s cabinets, pleased to find some canned foods and dried meats that could hold them over for at least a week, and took out a big pot and plopped it in the sink. He used his flamethrower on the spout and prayed to whatever god was out there that it would warm the pipes enough to get some water for him to clean the wound before giving the girl proper medical care. He sighed with his whole body when the pipe managed to spit out enough water for him to put in the pot and for him to clean a piece of cloth and his hands before freezing over again.

Bringing the pot over, he waited until the water was still warm enough to be pleasing, but not enough to scald. Din held his breath and gently apologized as he quickly re-set her arm properly, and she flinched hard enough for Din to need to hold her down so as to not re-injure herself.

After setting the arm in a make-shift splint made up of remaining wood and cloth from his cowl, he took the other now clean cloth and dabbed it into the water and gently patted it around the wound. The woman jolted and let out a long, hollow moan that made Din’s skin erupt in goosebumps that weren’t from the cold.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts, but it’ll be over soon. I promise.”

He’s not entirely sure why he’s trying to soothe her, Din doubts she could even hear him, but it made him feel less…useless as he cleaned the wound the best he could and redressed it with bandages from his med kit. He considered the catalyzer, but between the cold and any infection, he feared that would be the last shock her body needed to completely give out.

Din pulled away and watched her shiver, tears streaking down her face. He tucked the blankets back around her with care, bare fingers brushing hair out of her face with a gentleness Din didn’t even know he was capable of having. The girl was beautiful in her own right, and perhaps in other life, he would have pursued her for different reasons. 

Between keeping the fire going, ignoring the wind's howls, and the adrenaline still buzzing in his ears; Din couldn’t get back to sleep even if he wanted to. He sighed and got up, stretching, feeling his back pop. He put his items away and began to clean up the mess he made in a panic. Din paused when he came to the spilled contents of what appeared to be his quarry’s bag. He wasn’t sure how he missed it in his haste to keep the cabin shut tight, warm, and clean, but it now splayed itself in front of him as if beckoning for him to open it.

Aside from enough credits to last another six months, a toiletry bag, a med kit with expired medicines, an old-fashioned camera, and a handful of clothes; Din couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. But while shoving the items that spilled out back into the bag, he felt something bulky partly sticking out from inside of the bag’s walls.

Din brushed his fingers along the outline until he found the opening of a secret pouch. He dipped his fingers into the secret compartment and pulled out a small but thick book. The traditional material nearly threw Din off in and of itself, but when he flipped it open, he was even more shocked to find it wasn’t a book: it was a combination photo album and journal.

He wasn’t sure what possessed him to read the entries or even look at the photos, but Din felt a pull that he couldn’t quite shake, even if he felt slightly wrong for peeping into someone’s clearly private catalog. Why would a wanted criminal take the time and energy to capture photos, print them, glue them into a book, and write within its columns? Why couldn’t a data pad suffice? He knew the risk a digital journal could have, but it still felt like so much effort to make a physical book that he knew it wasn't about this being made out of safety, but rather love and passion.

The book’s binding and paper told Din it was handmade, and very well loved. He flipped through random pages, eyes moving over pictures of painted skies and clear oceans and lush forests. Some photos were selfies of the quarry, handheld, others looked like the photo had been perched on a rock or taken by a local of the area. There were a few photos here and there of what looked to be local lovers you might've picked up on your travels, and he tried not to stare too long at any selfies of you kissing a stranger or a point of view shot of them holding your hand from behind. He didn't know why jealousy briefly flashed in his heart, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. 

Din settled back into his chair, unable to look away. The quarry wrote of each of the places she visited with such love and devotion, and each passage was written in letter format, always starting with “Dear Dad,” and ending with her name and hearts drawn around her signature.

Brow furrowed, Din flipped the book back to the first page and really took a look at the photos within the first few pages. The photos were older, more bent and wrinkled, and featured a much younger version of the woman fighting death in the bed mere feet away. Sometimes she was alone, other times she posed with a woman much older than her, other times it was with an older man, a few times all three of them.

The quarry didn’t exactly look like the older couple, but there was love there. The way the man looked at the woman with such deep affection it made Din’s heart ache, remembering the way his own father looked at his mother before the war. The woman was beautiful, with laugh lines and wild hair tied up with a rag. Who were these people?

Din stared at the photo of the man in the photo, finger absently running over the image. The man in the photo and the man who hired him to bring his daughter home were two very different men. In coloring, in age, in kindness.

The man who hired him didn’t have an ounce of the love and gentleness in his face and words that Din could feel that the man in the photo had for his partner and daughter, regardless if the quarry was his by blood or not. Din couldn’t deny the love only a father could give to his child. The love didn't speak, but rather screamed at him from every photo as he turned each page and saw the quarry’s backstory come to life.

A pained groan had Din snapping the book shut with the same guilt and sheepishness of a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar would have. He blinked over at his quarry and stood abruptly, dropping her journal. When had she started to shake so violently?

Din was at her side in a split second and found himself holding her good hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. Her eyes were half open and glazed, blankly searching the ceiling as if trying to find an answer to unspoken questions within the wooden beams.

Her hands were icy to the touch, brow damp with sweat, clothes and hair clinging to her head and figure and shaking uncontrollably. Din swore and didn’t think twice to unclasp his armor and slipped off his boots. He slid into the bed and immediately held her to him, his larger frame enfulfing her in his embrace.

The quarry unconsciously clung to him, shaking so violently it made Din’s teeth clink together in his own mouth. But he held strong, rubbing soothing circles into her back and pulling the pile of blankets tighter around them, ensuring her back was to the fire.

After what felt like hours, the quarry slowly stopped shaking and settled into his arms. Din glanced down at her to find her face was relaxed, although flushed, and still damp with sweat. Her breathing mellowed and, for the first time since he found her, she looked to be at ease.

Din gave her a few hours, dozing with her in his arms, and rubbed her back absent mindedly with one hand. When he finally found the will to move, he pulled away from her and checked on her wounds, pleased to find the break and gash were healing nicely thanks to modern medicine.

For the next three days, when Din wasn’t holding her to him in bed and either reciting stories from his childhood or humming to her, he changed her bandages and washed the sweat from her face. When she was lucid enough, he fed her whatever he could find in the cabin, and when she had the energy, he helped her relieve herself in the cabin’s tiny bathroom before tucking her back into bed where she’d promptly pass out.

In those three days, when Din wasn’t taking care of her, he found himself drawn back to her photo album journal, flipping from one page to the next until he felt like he had memorized every detail there was to absorb.

And in those three days, Din knew he had to make a hard decision. One that would either lead a girl back to a jailer (or worse), or one where he would have to risk finding his way back to the guild with barely enough fuel and food but not enough credits to feed himself or refuel when he gets there. He loathed to think he’d have to borrow money from the covert’s savings, or deal with Karga’s smug smile knowing he had a Mandalorian in his debt.

On the fourth day, the storm let up and Din could see the sun shining through the cracks of the boarded-up windows. He glanced at the quarry and knew she was well enough by now. He could drag her through the remaining snow back to the Crest without the worry of infection or frostbite, and he could be in hyperspace by noon the next day.

All he had to do was move.

You weren’t sure how long you had been out for, but your body felt like it had been hit by a heard of banthas. Your muscles strained with the slightest movement and you couldn’t stop the pained moan from leaving your lips even if you wanted to.

When you found the energy to open your eyes, you had to squint to make out the cabin thanks to the sun shining through the cracks of the cabin. When had you boarded up the windows? It had been on your list of things to do before the storm hit, yet you had no memory of getting the chore done.

With another groan you slowly sat up, your body feeling tense yet weak at the same time. A fire burned as weakly as you felt in the fireplace, keeping the extreme cold out while still keeping the cabin on the chilly side, and you had to wonder yet again when you had found the time to make the fire in the first place.

Memories of days before came crashing down on you, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut at the intense headache that threatened to split your brain apart so suddenly.

You remembered going out to gather wood. A deer had startled you and you had tripped on a branch and tumbled down a steep hill, breaking your arm. Your arm!

You pulled your sleeve up to find the arm had been lovingly bandaged at some point, the bone back in its rightful place. Outside of a dull ache, you weren’t in any pain. You poked at the bandage and hissed, but your actions didn’t cause blood to leak to the surface and stain the bandaging. You didn’t remember dressing this, either.

You remember dragging yourself back to the cabin, hours later after getting yourself lost between the cold, the adrenaline rush, and the pain from the break. You remember desperately trying to get warm after being out in the snow for hours, finding your way back into bed after collecting every blanket the cabin had…

A Mandalorian.

You remembered the ghostly image of a Mandalorian standing above you, and your brain convinced you that it was the personification of Death coming to guide you home after so long. You remember gentle hands and kind whispers, vaguely, like a faded childhood memory. There, but not quite.

You glanced around the cabin to find that you were alone. You swung your feet over the edge of the bed and listened, waiting. But no one was inside the cabin with you, or outside, perhaps no one for miles as you had originally planned. Had the Mandalorian been a fever dream? You glanced back down at your makeshift cast and knew that you couldn’t have hallucinated him, there’s enough evidence to tell you that much for certain.

A beep caught your attention and on the nearby dresser was a fob and a small holo-pad you had never seen before. You weakly rose to your feet and stumbled over to the dresser, leaned your good arm against it, and squinted down at the devices.

The tracking fob was either dead or just not picking up on your DNA, and tapping it made the screen light up but your bounty headshot didn’t come up. You glanced down at the round holo-pad communicator, the piece of technology small enough to fit in your hand and had clearly seen better days.

The holo-pad blinked with a message from a com link you didn’t recognize. Your fingers lingered over the button to receive the message, shaking with hesitance. Before you could lose your nerve, you tapped the button and pulled your arm back as if it were being pursued by a wild animal.

You gasped and sucked in air, eyes zoning in on the image in the hologram. Anxious eyes scan the document, wondering if your tired eyes misread what was in front of you, if maybe you’re hallucinating the whole thing.

But there in front of you was a picture of yourself, much younger, grinning back at you. It had been a time when things were simpler and when your adopted parents were still alive and well. Before…before…

Your name was printed in bold letters, and right under it: DECEASED; followed by a half-assed obituary you knew had been from your owner. It lacked significant details about your life but put on enough of a show for those reading it who didn’t know you or your situation to believe the man who wrote it truly cared.

It was strange, seeing your own eulogy, gazing into eyes that were once yours so long ago. You thought of the ghost of the Mandalorian that had been there clearly to collect your bounty but had a change of heart. Did he figure out who his employer was? Did your well-being make him change his mind?

You had a million questions racing through your head as fast as your heartbeat within your chest. But amidst those buzzing questions, one statement made its presence known that made your knees weak and shoulders sag with relief, eyes tearing up:

You’re finally free.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

This was the first fanfic I've written in probably 10 years. Honestly, the Mando fandom alone has some of the most beautiful writers I've ever come across and it genuinely inspired me to come out of retirement. I had a falling out with a friend in a fandom I was once in over a decade ago and it was too painful to write. But now that I've healed and moved on and found love and inspiration in the Mando fandom and reignited my love for Star Wars in general, I'm ready to jump back into it.

I have a few spicy ideas and a few spicy/sweet chapter story ideas as well. I'm hoping once things even out at work I can create a writing schedule for future works whether it's a one-shot or chapter story to have something to look forward to outside of my career goals and advancements. It really means a lot you read this and I hope to see you again on my journey back into writing! ❤️ I may create a tumblr for my fics, still deciding, I don't quite understand Tumblr cause I'm #old but I'm willing to give it a try if it means making friends in the fandom and sharing my work!

Also, this was my first time using this site in a decade, and lemme tell you I am so proud of myself for figuring out how to tag and create bookmarks and even the page breaks. If you have any advice on how to best navigate this site as a writer, please do let me know I'd love to hear it!

✰ ✰ ☾ ✰ ✰

Where the Sky Met the Sea - Chapter 1: Sleep on the Floor

Series Masterlist | Cross-Published on AO3

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Ezra (from the 2018 movie Prospect) x F!Reader

Summary: Returning from the Green Moon with more wealth than he could ever fathom, Ezra expected life to be as rich as his bank account now was. Instead, he and his adopted daughter, Cee, struggles with the crippling loneliness that comes with people only wanting to know you for your money.

Desperate to find a genuine place to call home, Ezra drags himself and Cee across the galaxy until they stumble upon a small planet and settle into a quaint seaside town that honors tradition and hard work in a way that feels almost primitive, but welcome after being suffocated by robotic tech.

Expecting the same monotony he had experienced on other planets, Ezra is shocked to find the town and its people have secrets as deep and dark as the sea and the cure to his loneliness may be found in the town's struggling bookshop owner.

Warnings: mild sexual content, mild violence.

Chapter Rating: T

Word count: 2,722

"Pack yourself a toothbrush, dear, Pack yourself a favorite blouse. Take a withdrawal slip, Take all of your savings out. 'Cause if we don't leave this town We might never make it out."

- Sleep on the Floor by The Lumineers

When they had returned from the Green with more Aurelac gems than they imagined possible, Ezra had expected a rich life filled with opportunities and comforts he had only ever read of in his stories. He could get a new arm, and he could buy a house for himself and Cee. Hell, he could send her to school if it was what she wished. 

When they returned to The Pug and turned in their haul, Ezra had expected enough money to not have to worry about work for a good while. But he hadn’t expected the gems to gift them riches so deep he and Cee couldn’t see the bottom of their new prosperous well. Not only would he and Cee not have to work for a while, but they’d also never have to work or worry about anything ever again. 

Bringing home one Auerlac was impressive, but bringing back as many as he and Cee had was unheard of. So he wasn’t surprised when word got out that the one armed man and his “daughter” struck it rich. He wasn’t expecting himself and Cee to be celebrated, perhaps a moment of intensity that would die out when the next soul brought back their own wealth and life would move on.

But he had been wrong.

Ezra should have picked up on something being wrong when he was fitted with the latest prosthetic to replace his arm. The nurses and technicians hadn’t been the warmest, but he had caught enough wandering side eyes and hushed whispers to feel unease. An unease that didn’t leave him even after he had left.

It was Cee who pointed out that they were often the center of attention wherever they went, regardless of what they were doing. It had been the same as it was when Ezra got his new arm, with side eyes watching their every move and vocal conversations suddenly hushing when they enter a room. 

But unlike the techs and nurses, when Ezra lifted his head to catch the stares and stillness, the patrons would be back to focusing on the person their with or what they’re doing. It was only when he returned his focus to Cee or his food that he noticed the people around them going back to staring and whispering that he could only see in his peripherals, but never straight on.

Ezra did end up buying himself and Cee a house like he had originally planned. It was the nicest condo he had ever seen let alone lived in, and he spared no expense to get the best quality furniture for himself and the girl. They had a gorgeous view of the city with floor to ceiling windows and the best security they could buy. But that didn’t stop the harassment or the unbridled desire the public had out for them.

He had been thrilled when Cee had made friends, going out often as teenage girls do. And Ezra kept busy buying art he had always wanted but never could afford, along with finding and collecting the rarest books he never knew existed. And when he got lonely and Cee was unavailable for their family movie nights, Ezra went to the classiest bars and restaurants and indulged himself in the finest wine and whatever company caught his eye.

The first instance Ezra realized things hadn’t died down for him and Cee was when the girl came home crying one day. He had tried to get answers from her, but she only shook her head and locked herself in her room. She’d only come out to eat and join him for their family movie nights, but she kept to the other side of the couch, eyes sunken in as if she hadn’t slept properly in days.

The second instance was when Ezra made the mistake of bringing home a date after what he considered a wonderful night out. Dinner at the lake, dancing under the stars, sipping wine while listening to a live band play… It was only logical to bring an exquisite woman like her back for an appropriate finale. 

Ezra had fucked her passionately, his tongue and teeth leaving no patch of skin left unloved. But he had woken up sometime in the night to find her rummaging through his things, unashamed of the mess she made while silently tearing apart his room for Kevva knows what.

Ezra had kicked her out with what she came with (and nothing more), but despite nipping the problem in the bud he still felt restless. As if sensing his unease, Cee left her room and they both in silence agreement sat on the couch to watch movies until the sun peeked over the horizon. He never said it out loud, and he knew he didn’t have to, but he was grateful for Cee’s 6th sense in knowing when he needed company. 

What he thought was one bad date turned into numerous more. If his dates weren’t trying to pick his pockets while he slept after a passionate night, they would verbally degrade him for declining them every one of their whims whether it was bottles of the most expensive liquor or item on the menu. 

It wasn’t that Ezra was cheap, he was happy to spend his money on the finest things available for the finest company, but he noticed a pattern where his dates and one night stands would only focus on the most expensive things available. Him declining was a test to their temperament and intentions. One that each and every one of them failed.

At first he hadn’t planned on telling Cee any of this, not wanting to worry her. But it became too much too soon and he realized this impacted her as well regardless if he liked it or not. He told her as much as he felt was appropriate, and it was then that Cee opened up about her own reclusive behaviors.

The girls she befriended had ended up like the people he dated and slept with. Warm and comforting until they didn’t get what they wanted. And when Cee explained to them that she was only sixteen and wasn’t comfortable with buying anything expensive without her “father’s” permission, they lashed out. They had isolated her and turned her into a modern day pariah, unable to go anywhere without being rejected by businesses or potential friendships. 

The final straw was when someone tried to break into their condo.

It had been the middle of the night and the alarms had startled him out of a deep sleep. Ezra barely registered Cee running into his room and throwing herself into his bed, clinging to him with tears streaking down her face. The water leaking from her eyes and the panic on her face was enough to sober him into action.

The security protocol blared and then eerily shut off without Ezra turning it off himself. He had barely made it to the door to initiate the emergency locking system himself when he heard the sound of gunshots go off, ricocheting off the door. He had called the police and was shocked when they brushed him off. No one was sent out, and no one bothered to check in on them. Even when he told them he had a teenage daughter, even when he said he had a child. It wasn’t enough. 

Ezra initiated the lock screens over the windows, bullet proof sheets that kept the city lights out. Even in the armored shell he put himself and Cee in, he still felt unsafe. And he felt like an absolute failure to not have nipped this in the bud sooner.

He and Cee rearranged the furniture and had the couch facing the front door. They sat on it, Ezra armed with his rifle, Cee tucked into his side and holding her knees to her chest. She had grabbed a knife from the kitchen and her knuckles turned white from gripping it so hard. But Ezra didn’t have it in him to take it away from her or tell her to ease up. He didn’t blame her. 

They sat like that all night, unblinkingly staring at the door for a threat that never resurfaced. But they weren’t going to test their luck. The moment the morning light stretched across the sky, they were gone.

Ezra and Cee packed everything they could into their bags and left, unbothered with what they left behind. Ezra left the keys on the coffee table and the door wide open, an invitation to whoever wanted to live there could do so for free. Furniture and all.

When they made it to the docking port, the city started to stir awake and Ezra bought the first pod that was offered to them. A glorified space mini-van with enough room for the both of them without being smothered by the other’s presence, but small enough to go mostly unnoticed. 

The moment the paperwork was signed and he was given the keys, Ezra and Cee took off to the stars and left the misery they experienced on The Pug behind. They had found their way to Central, close enough to fly to without a lot of stress or resources, but far enough to where their reputation and spoils couldn’t follow them.

But buying a condo on Central, furnishing it, and going about their lives as if what happened on The Pug never happened felt… not wrong, but not right, either. It was too familiar, a beautiful love letter to Deja Vu if Ezra ever read one. 

It wasn’t too long after they had made themselves comfortable and dropped their guards did the horrors of The Pug begin to repeat themselves in their new home. Friendships gone sour, dates gone bad, side eyed stares turning into ogling unabashedly. Ezra didn’t fuck around, he bought the best security and the moment it was threatened he and Cee packed what they could, sold their old pod, bought another, and were gone before the sun peered over the horizon.

It was like that with The Ephrate, every habitable planet they landed on being as hostile as the last. They had stopped fully moving in to their abodes, sleeping on bare mattresses and living off of half assed furniture. There were many nights wide awake, waiting for the shoe to drop. Days and weeks dragged by where they anxiously waited to see if the spirits of their wealth would find them and continue to haunt them in their new homes. 

After the 6th planet in less than a year, and with Cee nearly getting stabbed and robbed, Ezra was done. Mentally, emotionally, and physically. He had Cee pack one last time and they escaped into the night even before first light.

When they reached the port, Ezra stopped Cee from going to their pod and shook his head. 

“Let it burn, Birdie. There’s nothing left for us there."

Cee didn’t fight it. They took what they could from the pod and then dropped the keys. Cee used a lipstick she had to write “FREE TO WHOEVER” along the side and as big as she physically could. 

When she was done, Ezra snuck her through the port, blending in with the shadows until they stood before a small Long-Haul Space Freighter intended to carry supplies and very little crew. 

Ezra checked a port monitor and was thankful that the ship was going to a planet he had never heard of, one so far it was almost in Wild Space. The shipments told him there was at least some sort of population, but as to how many people or the climate, Ezra could only guess. But it was their last hope to finally find the peace Ezra had longed for him and his adopted daughter after a year of absolute agony.

They made themselves comfortable in the hull and waited. They held their breath when they heard activity in the port and sighed in relief when the haul was shut tight and pressed into one another when the ship took off. Hands clasped together, Ezra’s head on Cee’s, they waited to see if the hull would pressurize with air or if they’d have little to no oxygen on their trip to the unknown. A sad but poetic end to the life they had briefly lived. 

But the hull did pressurize and Ezra and Cee could finally collapse into themselves with relief, giddy to have escaped the horrors behind them, but equally unsure of what awaited them.

The trip took about two weeks, and Ezra and Cee lived off of their own rations until they had to steal from one of the boxes to survive. They took turns sleeping, and waited until the ship was in night mode before sneaking off to use the bathroom and freshen up. It reminded Ezra of the hardships they had endured on the Green, but more glamours with the food they found and the lack of suits needed to breathe.

When they felt the ship descend into the planet’s atmosphere, Ezra couldn’t deny the way his heart sped up. It was akin to the time he had his first crush, that hopeful excitement of something new. Something good. But something equally terrifying and unknown.

They didn’t bother to wait for the crew to unpack to sneak off the ship. They stood proudly at the entrance as the ramp descended to momentarily blind them with the planet’s sun. But when they blinked away the sensitivity forced upon their eyes, neither could stop themselves from staring with their mouths ajar.

The planet’s name was Ecyria, if Ezra remembered correctly. It was big enough to be considered a planet but small enough to be the wallpaper of planets, overlooked and under appreciated by those exploring Wild Space. And it was nothing they had ever seen before.

Before them was a never ending ocean where the horizon bled into the sea with a sunset made of vivid shades of reds, oranges, and pinks. The port was open air, small enough to have only a handful of mid-sized ships, if that.

There was only one path leading to and from the port and it snaked down over rolling green hills to a village made of stone and wood, surrounded by green trees and sat on top of a cliff overlooking the water’s edge where wooden docks could be seen for old sailing ships that looked straight from one of Ezra’s novels. The whole village did.

“Ez…” Cee breathed, unable to tear her eyes away.

“I know, Birdie. I know.” Ezra said with an equal amount of awe in his voice.

Without looking, they found each other’s hands and held them tightly, looking out at their new home as crew from the ship and crew from the planet worked around them, giving them odd looks. But not with the same hostility they grew accustomed used to.

This was a planet that embraced modern technology but cradled old traditions and way of life that felt so primitive compared to what Ezra and Cee had lived through all their lives. A way of life that felt forgotten, but was still greatly appreciated by the two space travelers and clearly those local to the planet.

Somewhere nearby, Cee could smell freshly baked pastries, and as the day died before them and night took its place, Ezra could hear the sound of live music followed by singing and laughter. 

The village came to life, windows glowing warm and welcoming and old lamps turning a flame on by themselves with modern technology to light the path from the port to the village. The trees in the village sparkled to life and shimmered much like the infinite stars that shine down on them clear as day. Ezra could stare at the expanse of space for all eternity, caught up in supernovas and shooting stars and galaxies he didn’t know could be so beautiful.

But Cee, as usual, was his anchor. She tugged on his hand, bringing him back down from the stars, and he let her lead them to their new home with hope in their hearts for the first time. It was only a matter of time before they could know for sure if this would be a safe haven or just another nail in their coffins, but for now, live music and fresh food awaited them and for the first time in far too long, they were home. 

Next Chapter: Coming soon!

Day 2: Keep Me Close (Cockwarming)

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Set between the First and Second Season of The Mandalorian

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: When guilt strikes, the reader takes it upon herself to remind Din that there will always be ways to enjoy one another's presence even after a long and tiring day.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: established relationship, unprotected sex, fluff and smut paired with hurt and comfort

Word Count: 1501

You knew when you had signed up to be a scout, life would become immensely difficult. It took a certain soul to chart the stars for new hyperspace routes, explore unknown planetary regions, and navigate virgin patches of new worlds that many have seen but few have ever touched whether out of fear for Wild Space or respect for what may or may not be out there. 

You knew when you had agreed to follow the Mandalorian and his green ward into the Unknown Regions on their own journey that life would become complicated. The toughness of your job translated over to his well enough to where any violence rarely caught you off guard, and your knowledge and skills paired with the warrior’s upbringing were a complimentary mess of blaster residue and star drafts.

You weren’t sure when it had started or how, but the feelings you didn't even know you had for The Mandalorian metamorphosed into something deeper somewhere between the cantina fights and never-ending nights on undocumented planets. Somewhere along the way, the stars you were hired to chart had found their way into the reflection of the warrior's armor. And somewhere along the way, caught up in staring at the blinking lights twinkling in beskar, you had looked up to find the visor in which the universe the stars belonged to stared back. 

Gentle touches, lingering stares, and hushed voices deep into the night on backwater planets and in the hull of The Crest filled your heart with a love you thought had been reserved only for your family and work. Your first time together had been a heated moment where clothes were shifted enough to get the job done, but later the warrior treated you to hours of the most tender sex under a bright moon while the child slept safely aboard the ship. 

You knew your relationship with the Mandalorian was going to be complicated, but you hadn’t predicted how immensely difficult it would be to keep up between being full-time parents to Grogu, picking up jobs to feed the three of you, and balancing two different careers despite living aboard the same ship. 

The tender moments you had at the budding of your relationship were still there, but spaced out due to bad timing and exhaustion. When you had a moment to yourselves, it was almost overwhelming trying to decide how to spend that moment. Do you get lost in each others' bodies? Nap? Spend time together alone that didn’t involve dirty cantinas or shootouts or patching up wounds? 

Regardless, exhaustion always won out and you’d sleep long and deep knowing the world was on pause. Even if it was for just for a few hours. But you missed Din. And you could feel the same ache he had with you, but tailored with guilt and remorse for breaking unspoken promises and expectations. The weight of the galaxy sat on his broad shoulders, and any verbal attempt to reassure him fell on distracted ears. 

The bounty Din was currently hunting was supposed to take two, maybe three days tops. But when nearly two weeks rolled by, stretched thin like your worry for the man, you couldn’t help but fear the worst. It was in those moments that doubt and guilt weighed down on your own shoulders, wondering if your relationship demanded too much of him when life already demanded enough as is.

You were on your feet the moment the ramp hissed and lowered itself, the relieved sigh you let out taken back when you witnessed just how exhausted your warrior was. His stride was slow as if he were wading through thick mud and not up the flat incline to his ship. His shoulders were somehow both lifted in stress and drooping with fatigue, and he had very little care for the unconscious body he dragged behind him. 

You didn’t miss the way his body wavered after throwing the quarry into the carbonite chamber, or the sway in his steps as he made his way over to Grogu’s pram and gently stroked his sleeping son’s ear before turning to you. You didn't miss how his head nearly dropped as he lowered his helmet to your forehead in a keldabe kiss, or the weakness in his grip as his hands rested on your hips. 

You could feel the fatigue, the frustration, the guilt, and the shame rolling off of him in waves; in the weakened way his hands tightened on your hips and how he’s stubbornly ignoring his body to try to show you an ounce of the affection he had for you. Your heart ached for this man.

You gently pried his hands off of your hips and led him to his bunk, guiding him to sit. Din lifts his hands as if to find your hips again but you gently swat them away, opting to take off his armor piece by piece instead. You ignored the way Din stared, and you refused to answer the unspoken question that weighed heavily in the air. You took each piece of beskar off as if it were your own, showing the metal the respect it both deserved and earned for keeping Din alive all these years.  

When the armor was off, sans helmet, you kneeled in front of Din and used your shoulders to spread his legs open. Your hand found his crotch and you gently rubbed at it through his flight suit, the other hand untying the laces of his boots and sliding them off, not once allowing your eyes to stray from his helmet. When he was hard under your hand and his boots and socks were off, you stood, ignoring the way your knees popped. 

You reached out to Din just as he had and found the hidden zippers in his suit, peeling off the layers until The Mandalorian before you revealed the man underneath the armor. A strong body of flesh marred with scars and softened with age, a body you knew every inch of intimately. Your eyes grazed over his body and landed on his now hard member, leaking and red and asking for attention. 

With a roll of your shoulders, you slipped off your own clothing with far less grace than you had reserved for Din's armor and reached out to the man once you were as naked as he was. With one knee on the bunk, a shaky hand rested on your belly. You clasped your hand over Din's, rubbing soothing circles into the skin. Despite his state of arousal, you hadn't noticed the way his body curled slightly with insecurity and that same exhaustion that had been plaguing him for far too long. 

"Meshla, I... I'm sorry, I can't, I-... I'm so tired..." Din's helmet tilted away and the way his voice cracked at the end broke your heart. You patted his hand and brushed it aside, the limb sliding down and falling to the bunk with little fight.

"It's okay, Din. I'm not asking that of you. Not tonight. I just want to remind you that you'll always have me and that I just want to be as close to you in any way I can. Okay?"

"Okay," his voice croaked after a pause.

You climbed into the bunk with him, encouraging him further in until his feet were safely in the confines of the sleeping quarters. Once satisfied that his comfort was met, you positioned yourself over his erection and slid down. Din's moan was deep and long, your own fingers splaying on his chest rumbled with the sound deep in his chest. You dragged your fingers down to his stomach right above the base of his cock, then up again in a soothing way that had Din replacing his moan with a longing sigh. A sound you missed dearly.

Ensuring he was tucked deep in your core, you shifted and sprawled yourself over the man like a blanket, burying your face into his chest. Din's arms wrapped around you a moment later and you didn't put up a fight when he rolled the two of you onto your sides, hiking your leg over his hip and burying his helmet into your neck. Once satisfied your comfort was met, Din wrapped his arms tightly around you and squeezed you close to where you weren't sure where you started and he ended. But you wouldn't trade that for the world.

Being a scout was hard, and being the partner of a Mandalorian was difficult, but it was all worth it to be close to the man who had given you a home to return to and a family you had always wanted. You knew one-day things will slow down, that your jobs won't demand as much and Grogu will be returned to his kind. But until then, you're happy to take and give what you can, and enjoy the warm moments of closeness that not even Wild Space or cantina shootouts could ever take away from you. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Ah, yisssss day 2 is complete. I think I can post one or two more in the next 24 hours but I'm slowly catching up. Days may be switched, and to be inclusive these kink prompts will be friendly to readers who are/were AFAB, AMAB, or gender-neutral.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

For whatever reason, my posts since October 8th haven't been showing up in any of the tags I post them in, if anyone has any advice I'd appreciate it! I let Tumblr staff know already but I've been bummed that my work hasn't gotten its usual foot traffic but I'm glad I figured out why.

So thank you to anyone who liked, engaged, and reblogged my stuff since!!

Day 4: Tied Up

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Set between seasons one and two.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary:

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, fluff and smut, romantic angst/tension, bondage, PIV sex, rope bondage, mutual pining

Word Count: 1,673

You had been tied up in the past before by other lovers, usually hands and/or feet bound by rope or binders. You had imagined going further, but you never met anyone who had ventured past the basic binding in bed to really explore that area. Or trust, for that matter. That is, until you met Mando.

You barely knew the man, and wouldn’t even say you had found him attractive when you first met. He was a giant wall of silver with very little indication he had much going on other than being a good bounty hunter and father figure to his green ward. It wasn't until you had witnessed the way the warrior had tied up his bounty and manhandled the creature into carbonite that the neutral feelings you had for him changed so dramatically that you nearly gave yourself whiplash. You hadn’t even noticed the way your thighs clenched at the sight, but Mando noticed. He always did. 

When your physical relationship started with the Mandalorian, it started the same way it had with others: in binders and rope. But unlike past lovers, you came to the realization that Mando had a few tricks up his sleeve that others hadn’t that added so much more spice to the act you know so well. 

If your legs were bound together, he’d throw your legs over one shoulder and bend you in half. If your wrists were tied in the front, you’d be manhandled to hold onto something above you as the warrior held up your body as if you weighed nothing and fucked up into you, hitting spots you didn’t know existed. If you had your hands bound behind you, they’d be used as leverage for the Mandalorian to fuck into you harder and faster from behind, the way your ass and breasts jiggled from the force would make your body ache for days after. It was glorious.

The ropes were always loose enough to wiggle out of if you needed to, but tight enough to get the job done. And that was enough. For a while. 

It wasn't that you were unsatisfied, Mando (or Din, as you’ve learned to call him) was a tentative lover who got off on your own pleasure. You couldn’t think of a time when you weren’t left satisfied. Or fathom there ever being one. Din knew your body better than you did, using old methods that were always certain to get you off, but continuing to find new ways to ensure that sex never got old.

But the longer your… whatever-ship with Din went on, the more your mind wandered to ways you could take the simple binding further. And you weren't sure which shocked you more: that you wanted Din to tie you up so tightly you couldn't move, leaving you vulnerable to take whatever Din gave you; or that you trusted him enough to have that kind of power. 

You hadn't noticed the soft sighs and prolonged glances you gave whenever Din brought out to use on you, but he noticed. He always did. 

You were so caught up in your own head that you hadn't even noticed how distracted Din had gotten both during sex and on jobs. It wasn't until Cara had asked where Din was did you finally notice his longer absences, and it was hard to not overthink it. Especially when you found out one day he had returned without seeing you and left with new pucks. 

After a month or two of little communication and only one quick sexual visit did you finally concede that Din was done with you. The rejection stung and humiliation sat in your chest, mocking you with the reminder that if you had asked Din to tie you up like you had wanted, the humiliation would be replaced with deep shame and you're glad you hadn't put yourself through that ordeal.

It's why you were shocked to find the Mandalorian darkening your doorstep well past midnight a few days later, his broad frame taking up the width of your door, his figure silhouetted by the darkness of your dwelling and the bright stars that painted the sky behind him. Without a word, he stepped in. And without a word you let him enter. 

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but the new rope that Din took from the bag Grogu normally warms was not on your list of top ten guesses.

It was long and thin, the red material appeared smooth in your living room's dim lighting. It wasn't anything you had ever seen before, and you couldn't help squeezing your thighs waiting for an explanation. For the distance, for the absences, for the lack of communication, and for showing up without calling you first.

And with a soft, "do you trust me?" crackling from the man's helmet, you couldn't stop yourself from answering back with a breathy "yes." The pain, the rejection, and the sting that had been haunting you the last two months were replaced with the trust you had for him and you figured you'd deal with the shame and humiliation of that choice later. If it ever came. 

You had never heard of shibari and weren't sure where Din learned it (not that you wanted to know and something told you you didn't), but it was everything you had wanted from past partners and were too afraid to ask Din. Yet, somehow, he had noticed. He always did. And you were a fool for thinking he wouldn't. 

That's how you found yourself on the floor of your bedroom, tied up in a way that left your naked body bent and exposed in a way that Din could use you any way you wanted. You were bent in half and spread in a way that exposed you to the world. The robe bound your wrists to your legs with intricate braids and knots, the kind made by nimble fingers and sure hands. The same hands that were stroking down your back and sides and grasping the flesh of your ass. You had never been more scared and horny in your life, your tentative excitement had you dripping wet without Din needing to even touch you. 

With you firmly on your back, your breasts swollen from the way the rope was tied around them, Din was able to slide home into your tight canal with little prep. Your groans entwined like a beautiful aria, but instead of railing you like he normally did, Din ground his hips against yours and set a slow but deep rhythm that punched the air from your lungs with each thrust. Your fingers and toes curled and your position forced you to look into the blank visor staring back, your cock-dumb reaction reflected back to you. 

Being unable to move, bent the way you were, with nothing else to do but take what Din gave you and stare up at him was the most vulnerable you've ever felt. It was as much intimidating as it was arousing, unable to look away even if you wanted to. You weren't sure what Din was thinking, or what inspired him to lean down and rest his forehead against yours, but it made sex with him this time around feel that much more intimate than just two friends with benefits trying something new in the bedroom. It was a feeling you welcomed wholeheartedly and you did your best to push your forehead back against his, eyes shutting.

The next thing you knew you were being flipped onto your stomach, your breasts squished against your chest almost painfully, Din's hand gripping your hair. You silently thanked the maker that Din had enough foresight to lay a blanket down on the ground underneath you just as he slammed home and fucked you like you were used to. The metal plates of his thigh armor dug into your bare skin with each hard thrust, his balls slapping against your clit in a brutal rhythm.

In this position, you struggled to breathe with how hard he was pounding down into you. Din curled up around you in a protective huddle, so close your fingers could graze his armor with every twitch of your fingers reacting to being fucked into oblivion, and the heat of his body radiated past his armor to cause goose bumps to litter your skin. An ungloved hand (when did he take the gloves off?) reached underneath you and rubbed your clit in time of his thrusts, aiding the slap of his balls against the sensitive spot already. You knew logically he had his helmet on, but his head was so close to your ear that it almost sounded like you could hear the unfiltered breathing and soft moans that were too quiet for the modulator to pick up.

Your orgasm hit you like a speeder bike, the pressure so intense you felt it push Din from deep inside you, and the gush of wetness along with the unique tightness caused Din to groan in surprise and grow rigid, his own release blindsiding him. You felt the hot gush of his cum mix with your own, the pressure causing both to leak out around his girth and down his balls and dripping to the floor below. He stayed like that, grinding into you, both of you catching your breaths and doused in sweat. 

Din rested his forehead against the back of your head, and you smiled when you felt his hand unclench itself from your hip and slide up to awkwardly hold one of your bound hands in his. You knew whatever happened tonight was new territory, one you'll have to discuss with Din eventually. But for now, the warrior was still rock-hard inside of you and you were ready to take whatever he was willing to give.

And maybe you will ask him who taught him how to do this so you can send them a thank you basket for leading up to the best night of your life. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

If the last bit felt rushed or wrapped up lazily, you're absolutely right about both. I got behind in this due to work drama and wanted to finish this before posting the next few stories but struggled with remembering how I originally wanted to end it. So please do enjoy, I promise the next two fics are going to be worth the wait I've had these filthy thoughts for at least a month now so suffer with me in horny jail on here.

xo

Billie

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I feel like what happened with Lost is happening with The Mandalorian now.

The writers worked really hard on enough plot for a couple of seasons and really hooked people, but then they realized “holy 💩 people want more! quick, let’s throw together a bunch of random things and characters and completely undermine all the good stuff we had going in the previous seasons”.

Like, it sucked for fans of Lost and it’s sucks now. What has even been the literal point of this season? To put your two bread winner characters on the back burner? To make Din seem like an incompetent bozo who plays Bo’s lapdog and always needs rescuing?

The point definitely hasn’t been more character development for Din. On expanding Din and Grogu’s relationship. On Din learning to wield the dark saber. On Din learning (and loving) to be a leader. On Grogu getting to hone in on his Jedi skills.

It’s not like I’ve completely hated it this season, there has been good points and it’s still an interesting show. But everything from the first two seasons is missing it seems. And so much potential in what could have been great character development has been put on the sidelines.

Hopefully they can still save it. I have hopes, but I’m skeptical.