REBLOG IF ITS OKAY TO TALK TO YOU.

One advantage of not really having a strong sense of gender identity is that you’re very [shrug emoji] about how people gender you. Sometimes people call me by she/her pronouns and sometimes they go with he/him pronouns and on the internet people often default to they/them, and neither option is entirely right but also, fuck if I know what would be right, and I don’t particularly care. Therefore I’m perfectly happy to outsource my gender identity to the people around me who actually need to figure out which box to put me in. I don’t need to talk about myself in third person, so really my pronouns sound like a you problem.

@prolix-yuy

This, but also: Stumbles out of google docs with new kinks I'm down to explore.

Stumbles out of google docs covered in blood

The Middle Part 1: Preview

A non-canon blurb from The Before and After universe.

Din is not a smart man. Never claimed to be, and would reluctantly accept any compliments that would argue against the fact. Yes, he was intelligent in the ways that mattered within his job. But outside of being multi-lingual, a weapon expert, tracking master, and skilled fighter; Din was not a smart man.

If he were a smart man, he would have noticed the way you had been acting odd all week leading up to him going off for a week on a job. If he were a smart man, he would have noticed the way you looked at him more intently with that mischievous look in your eyes when you had something planned. If he were a smart man, he would have picked up on the tone in your voice when you had commed him the moment he returned to Jakku. And if he were a smart man, he would have noticed the flower petals on the floor the moment he walked into your shared home or even picked up on the sound of moaning when he had entered the bedroom looking for you and hell-bent on having a long, hot shower.

But Din is not a smart man.

To be released on Friday, February 10th.

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Look, I don't care if you ship Bo and Din. But for the love of Morgan Freeman please STOP saying Grogu needs a mother. As a child of a single parent and that parent being the child of a single parent, it's so dehumanizing to see Din be reduced to a man requiring a partner to fulfill his child's need for a nuclear family. I haven't felt the need to say this as I haven't seen this kind of aggression with other ships and I think it's because its heteronormative, and I really need people to just... stop.

If you ship them, fine. If you love the idea of Grogu gaining a bonus parent who makes him and his dad happy, awesome! But to reduce Din and Grogu to two people who need someone to complete them after Din has done SO MUCH for Grogu as his child on his own is insulting. Single parents are often harshly judged in our every day lives because people think their children can only be fulfilled and successful with two (HETERO) parents when that's not the case. It also reduces the growth Grogu inspired in Din to overcome his religious trauma and realize he's a good father and Mandalorian even if Din doesn't think that of himself. Needing a partner or another parent to fill in a missing piece that doesn't exist is unfair to real people and characters alike. Even for Bo as a female anti-hero in a male dominate show to be reduced to "mother" when she has decades of history that has made her a fleshed out, stand alone SW character who doesn't need another show to be fulfilled by its protagonist. It's insulting to any female SW characters to be reduced to being just a partner or parent and their original purpose isn't even acknowledged or considered in the plot just so that the romantic itch can be scratched without any real reason or purpose other than "why not?" Just... learn to not dehumanize female SW characters or undermine single parents and children of single parents. This isn't shaming fanfic writers or readers or anyone for wanting Din to be happy and liking the idea of someone being a bonus parent to Grogu, this is towards the people who keep insisting Din and Grogu will be happier and complete with a partner/parent. And I hope this comes across that way cause I know some people make get offended over this when it's not intended to do so.

I went No Contact with half of my family after my white great uncle told me he blamed my directionless lifestyle on not having a strong male figure in my life when I was doing just fine and he knew nothing about my life. The way he talked about my mom was enough for me to realize how many people agreed with him and I burned that bridge so fucking fast because my mom was a fierce woman who didn't need a man to be an awesome mother and made it very clear that any partner would be second fiddle to me and my siblings. We came first. As did her career. Romantic partners and parenthood should add zest to the life you already live, not uproot it to fit into theirs or uproot theirs to fit into yours. So don't do that to Din and Grogu, no matter who you ship him with.

Reblog to wrap the person you reblogged it from in a soft blanket like a burrito and give them a brownie

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.

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

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