Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 5 (Something's Gotta Give)

before you jerk it to another fetishized dbf joel fic read something new, think critically, and do something with what you learn

applied to fandom: accessible anti racist policy/practice

racism and structural violence: interconnected threats to health equity

Racism, whiteness, and burnout in antiracism movements: How white racial justice activists elevate burnout in racialjustice activists of color in the United States

racial equity tools

anti-racism resources (the beginning is more local to this org, but there's more later in the list)

anti-racism resources for white people

recources for white people to learn and talk about race and racism

this blog post from 2020 that is more relevant than ever:

I am Black. This is what I Need (& what I Don’t) from White Allies:

Words for Skin Tone | How to Describe Skin Color

We discussed the issues describing People of Color by means of food in Part I of this guide, which brought rise to even more questions, mostly along the lines of “So, if food’s not an option, what can I use?” Well, I was just getting to that!

This final portion focuses on describing skin tone, with photo and passage examples provided throughout. I hope to cover everything from the use of straight-forward description to the more creatively-inclined, keeping in mind the questions we’ve received on this topic.

Standard Description

Basic Colors

Pictured above: Black, Brown, Beige, White, Pink.

“She had brown skin.”

This is a perfectly fine description that, while not providing the most detail, works well and will never become cliché.

Describing characters’ skin as simply brown or beige works on its own, though it’s not particularly telling just from the range in brown alone.

Complex Colors

These are more rarely used words that actually “mean” their color. Some of these have multiple meanings, so you’ll want to look into those to determine what other associations a word might have.

Pictured above: Umber, Sepia, Ochre, Russet, Terra-cotta, Gold, Tawny, Taupe, Khaki, Fawn.

Complex colors work well alone, though often pair well with a basic color in regards to narrowing down shade/tone.

For example: Golden brown, russet brown, tawny beige…

As some of these are on the “rare” side, sliding in a definition of the word within the sentence itself may help readers who are unfamiliar with the term visualize the color without seeking a dictionary.

“He was tall and slim, his skin a russet, reddish-brown.”

Comparisons to familiar colors or visuals are also helpful:

“His skin was an ochre color, much like the mellow-brown light that bathed the forest.”

Modifiers

Modifiers, often adjectives, make partial changes to a word.The following words are descriptors in reference to skin tone.

Dark - Deep - Rich - Cool

Warm - Medium - Tan

Fair - Light - Pale

Rich Black, Dark brown, Warm beige, Pale pink…

If you’re looking to get more specific than “brown,” modifiers narrow down shade further.

Keep in mind that these modifiers are not exactly colors.

As an already brown-skinned person, I get tan from a lot of sun and resultingly become a darker, deeper brown. I turn a pale, more yellow-brown in the winter.

While best used in combination with a color, I suppose words like “tan” “fair” and “light” do work alone; just note that tan is less likely to be taken for “naturally tan” and much more likely a tanned White person.

Calling someone “dark” as description on its own is offensive to some and also ambiguous. (See: Describing Skin as Dark)

Undertones

Undertones are the colors beneath the skin, seeing as skin isn’t just one even color but has more subdued tones within the dominating palette.

pictured above: warm / earth undertones: yellow, golden, copper, olive, bronze, orange, orange-red, coral | cool / jewel undertones: pink, red, blue, blue-red, rose, magenta, sapphire, silver. 

Mentioning the undertones within a character’s skin is an even more precise way to denote skin tone.

As shown, there’s a difference between say, brown skin with warm orange-red undertones (Kelly Rowland) and brown skin with cool, jewel undertones (Rutina Wesley).

“A dazzling smile revealed the bronze glow at her cheeks.”

“He always looked as if he’d ran a mile, a constant tinge of pink under his tawny skin.”

Standard Description Passage

“Farah’s skin, always fawn, had burned and freckled under the summer’s sun. Even at the cusp of autumn, an uneven tan clung to her skin like burrs. So unlike the smooth, red-brown ochre of her mother, which the sun had richened to a blessing.”

-From my story “Where Summer Ends” featured in Strange Little Girls

Here the state of skin also gives insight on character.

Note my use of “fawn” in regards to multiple meaning and association. While fawn is a color, it’s also a small, timid deer, which describes this very traumatized character of mine perfectly.

Though I use standard descriptions of skin tone more in my writing, at the same time I’m no stranger to creative descriptions, and do enjoy the occasional artsy detail of a character.

Creative Description

Whether compared to night-cast rivers or day’s first light…I actually enjoy seeing Characters of Colors dressed in artful detail.

I’ve read loads of descriptions in my day of white characters and their “smooth rose-tinged ivory skin”, while the PoC, if there, are reduced to something from a candy bowl or a Starbucks drink, so to actually read of PoC described in lavish detail can be somewhat of a treat.

Still, be mindful when you get creative with your character descriptions. Too many frills can become purple-prose-like, so do what feels right for your writing when and where. Not every character or scene warrants a creative description, either. Especially if they’re not even a secondary character.

Using a combination of color descriptions from standard to creative is probably a better method than straight creative. But again, do what’s good for your tale.

Natural Settings - Sky

Pictured above: Harvest Moon -Twilight, Fall/Autumn Leaves, Clay, Desert/Sahara, Sunlight - Sunrise - Sunset - Afterglow - Dawn- Day- Daybreak, Field - Prairie - Wheat, Mountain/Cliff, Beach/Sand/Straw/Hay.

Now before you run off to compare your heroine’s skin to the harvest moon or a cliff side, think about the associations to your words.

When I think cliff, I think of jagged, perilous, rough. I hear sand and picture grainy, yet smooth. Calm. mellow.

So consider your character and what you see fit to compare them to.

Also consider whose perspective you’re describing them from. Someone describing a person they revere or admire may have a more pleasant, loftier description than someone who can’t stand the person.

“Her face was like the fire-gold glow of dawn, lifting my gaze, drawing me in.”

“She had a sandy complexion, smooth and tawny.”

Even creative descriptions tend to draw help from your standard words.

Flowers

Pictured above: Calla lilies, Western Coneflower, Hazel Fay, Hibiscus, Freesia, Rose

It was a bit difficult to find flowers to my liking that didn’t have a 20 character name or wasn’t called something like “chocolate silk” so these are the finalists. 

You’ll definitely want to avoid purple-prose here.

Also be aware of flowers that most might’ve never heard of. Roses are easy, as most know the look and coloring(s) of this plant. But Western coneflowers? Calla lilies? Maybe not so much.

“He entered the cottage in a huff, cheeks a blushing brown like the flowers Nana planted right under my window. Hazel Fay she called them, was it?”

Assorted Plants & Nature

Pictured above: Cattails, Seashell, Driftwood, Pinecone, Acorn, Amber

These ones are kinda odd. Perhaps because I’ve never seen these in comparison to skin tone, With the exception of amber.

At least they’re common enough that most may have an idea what you’re talking about at the mention of “pinecone.“ 

I suggest reading out your sentences aloud to get a better feel of how it’ll sounds.

“Auburn hair swept past pointed ears, set around a face like an acorn both in shape and shade.”

I pictured some tree-dwelling being or person from a fantasy world in this example, which makes the comparison more appropriate.

I don’t suggest using a comparison just “cuz you can” but actually being thoughtful about what you’re comparing your character to and how it applies to your character and/or setting.

Wood

Pictured above: Mahogany, Walnut, Chestnut, Golden Oak, Ash

Wood can be an iffy description for skin tone. Not only due to several of them having “foody” terminology within their names, but again, associations.

Some people would prefer not to compare/be compared to wood at all, so get opinions, try it aloud, and make sure it’s appropriate to the character if you do use it.

“The old warlock’s skin was a deep shade of mahogany, his stare serious and firm as it held mine.”

Metals

Pictured above: Platinum, Copper, Brass, Gold, Bronze

Copper skin, brass-colored skin, golden skin…

I’ve even heard variations of these used before by comparison to an object of the same properties/coloring, such as penny for copper.

These also work well with modifiers.

“The dress of fine white silks popped against the deep bronze of her skin.”

Gemstones - Minerals

Pictured above: Onyx, Obsidian, Sard, Topaz, Carnelian, Smoky Quartz, Rutile, Pyrite, Citrine, Gypsum

These are trickier to use. As with some complex colors, the writer will have to get us to understand what most of these look like.

If you use these, or any more rare description, consider if it actually “fits” the book or scene.

Even if you’re able to get us to picture what “rutile” looks like, why are you using this description as opposed to something else? Have that answer for yourself.

“His skin reminded her of the topaz ring her father wore at his finger, a gleaming stone of brown, mellow facades.” 

Physical Description

Physical character description can be more than skin tone.

Show us hair, eyes, noses, mouth, hands…body posture, body shape, skin texture… though not necessarily all of those nor at once.

Describing features also helps indicate race, especially if your character has some traits common within the race they are, such as afro hair to a Black character.

How comprehensive you decide to get is up to you. I wouldn’t overdo it and get specific to every mole and birthmark. Noting defining characteristics is good, though, like slightly spaced front teeth, curls that stay flopping in their face, hands freckled with sunspots…

General Tips

Indicate Race Early: I suggest indicators of race be made at the earliest convenience within the writing, with more hints threaded throughout here and there.

Get Creative On Your Own: Obviously, I couldn’t cover every proper color or comparison in which has been “approved” to use for your characters’ skin color, so it’s up to you to use discretion when seeking other ways and shades to describe skin tone.

Skin Color May Not Be Enough: Describing skin tone isn’t always enough to indicate someone’s ethnicity. As timeless cases with readers equating brown to “dark white” or something, more indicators of race may be needed.

Describe White characters and PoC Alike: You should describe the race and/or skin tone of your white characters just as you do your Characters of Color. If you don’t, you risk implying that White is the default human being and PoC are the “Other”).

PSA: Don’t use “Colored.” Based on some asks we’ve received using this word, I’d like to say that unless you or your character is a racist grandmama from the 1960s, do not call People of Color “colored” please. 

Not Sure Where to Start? You really can’t go wrong using basic colors for your skin descriptions. It’s actually what many people prefer and works best for most writing. Personally, I tend to describe my characters using a combo of basic colors + modifiers, with mentions of undertones at times. I do like to veer into more creative descriptions on occasion.

Want some alternatives to “skin” or “skin color”? Try: Appearance, blend, blush, cast, coloring, complexion, flush, glow, hue, overtone, palette, pigmentation, rinse, shade, sheen, spectrum, tinge, tint, tone, undertone, value, wash.

Skin Tone Resources

List of Color Names

The Color Thesaurus

Skin Undertone & Color Matching

Tips and Words on Describing Skin

Photos: Undertones Described (Modifiers included)

Online Thesaurus (try colors, such as “red” & “brown”)

Don’t Call me Pastries: Creative Skin Tones w/ pics I 

Writing & Description Guides

WWC Featured Description Posts

WWC Guide: Words to Describe Hair

Writing with Color: Description & Skin Color Tags

7 Offensive Mistakes Well-intentioned Writers Make

I tried to be as comprehensive as possible with this guide, but if you have a question regarding describing skin color that hasn’t been answered within part I or II of this guide, or have more questions after reading this post, feel free to ask!

~ Mod Colette

meow?! MEOW?!!!

I am screaming!!! Jack Abbot the man that you are!!!

You’re not depressed. You just need $250,000 in your bank account.

Later: Donnie Donahue x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @cosmic-psychickitty @sjlovestory @storiesaplenty @imawhoreforu

Companion piece to:

The Worst Kinda Day (NSFW) - Donnie can't explain the relief he feels when he gets home to find you in the shower.

Queen of Soul - You consider your current career choices as you undressin the bathroom.

Gold (NSFW) - Donnie reminds you who you belong to when he sees another man hitting on you.

You’re in your underwear when Donnie gets home from work. He lingers in the doorway of the bedroom watching as you sit at your dressing table in that pretty lace bra and panties set, adding the setting powder to your features over your make up.

His cock stirs his trousers because your skin contrasting against the cream hue of that fabric, it does a little something for him.

“Is it wrong that I wanna get to my knees and worship you like the goddess you are?” He asks you, pushing off the door frame.

Your lips curve up into a smile as you tilt your head up towards him. His mouth covers yours, a searing kiss that makes a rush of heat erupt through every single one of your nerve endings as his palm cradles your neck.

“Later.” You whisper as you pull away, you attention shifting back to the mirror. “I have a session at the studio tonight.”

“I thought you were off.” He frowns as he sits down on the edge of the bed to unlace his kicks. “I was gonna cook, we were gonna do something special…”

“I was but then Leon called, he can only do tonight so…”

“Alicia.” He says softly, dragging his palms down his weary features. “This guys gonna try and get into your pants… on our wedding anniversary.”

“Donnie.” You say firmly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “That’s not gonna happen. I promise I’ll make this up to you but you know how important this track is to my career.”

“Hm.” He says retying his laces.

“Hm?” You question, turning to face him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means go do your thing.” He shrugs as he raises to his feet. “I’m gonna head out and do mine.”

“Donnie…” You call after him but he’s already out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

psa clint isn’t joel miller and if you’re flattening him into a joel archetype we need to talk about race again

i’m aware they both wear plaid, have a daughter, battle with grief, and are hot covered in blood and enacting violence

this isn’t a callout i just don’t remember where i saw these specific posts about the red handkerchief and clint as a ‘blue collar’ man. but i know i’ve seen plenty of clint = joel posts floating around. 

AND i wasn’t going to say anything bc i thought i was just being gatekeepy bc i didn’t wanna see clint get the dbf treatment which would be my personal problem and i can happily write about him on my own blog how i want etc etc and i know i don’t have to read anyone else’s takes BUT then i thought about it and once again…it’s always about race… re: the post i saw somewhere about someone having a head canon about clint having a red handkerchief as a snot rag - sorry i forgot where i saw it and this isn’t an attack on whoever wrote that, but an fyi to anyone thinking about him the same way… if you’re writing a latino man in 1987 oakland—especially someone working street-level jobs or tied to criminal economies—and you think a red bandana is just a ‘snot rag,’ you’re missing major context

fyi, in 1987, color politics were not optional if you were a man of color in california. even though bloods (red) and crips (blue) originated in LA, their color codes and the larger gang culture around them were already known across the state. in northern california specifically, norteños (tied to the nuestra familia prison gang) wore red. their rivals, sureños (tied to the mexican mafia), wore blue. 

who cares? well, even though oakland wasn’t dominated by bloods and crips the way LA was (in part due to the black panthers), it had its own street crews, plus a heavy norteño/sureño influence by the mid-80s. even outside organized gangs, the association between red and gang affiliation was strong enough that wearing a red bandana could get you profiled, targeted, or attacked—by cops, by other crews, or by random people trying to read your allegiance.

if you were a latino man in oakland in the 80s—like clint—you wouldn’t carry a red bandana by accident. it would be flagging. even if you weren’t affiliated. as a street smart guy, survival would mean being hyper-aware of how you present yourself, especially in neighborhoods policed by gang dynamics and racial profiling. cops would use color displays like a bandana as probable cause for harassment searches or worse during the height of the ‘war on drugs’ and the crack epidemic. 

characters like clint—latino, working-class, street-adjacent—would have understood the consequences of being read wrong. this doesn’t mean no one ever had cloths, handkerchiefs, or functional rags. it means the color and the way you carried it mattered: what pocket, what visibility, how deliberate it looked.

throwing a red bandana in your pocket wasn’t neutral. it wasn’t folksy. it wasn’t just blue-collar roughness. it was a risk, and survival was about reading the street, not walking through it like color codes didn’t apply to you.

clint wouldn’t casually rock a red bandana like a cowboy. latino men have never had the privilege of being casual about how they're read in public, especially not in a city like oakland, especially not in the 1980s.

re: clint as a ‘blue collar’ character there’s a difference between being ‘blue collar’ and being trapped in criminalized labor. wearing a plaid shirt and working with your hands doesn’t automatically make someone a blue-collar worker in the traditional sense. 

blue collar historically refers to wage labor—construction, manufacturing, trade work—where the worker is paid (poorly) but still operating within the boundaries of legal employment. union jobs. often unionized labor, tied to systems that, at least in theory, protected workers through collective bargaining, benefits, and job security. those protections were never equally available, especially to workers of color, but they existed as part of the larger working-class structure. 

clint’s labor isn’t protected. it isn’t recognized. it’s criminalized. he’s not just a man doing rough work for low pay—he’s disposable labor, surviving in a system that sees him as expendable from the start. calling him ‘blue collar’ erases the fact that he’s not inside the working class safety net. he’s on the outside, paying off debt with violence he didn’t choose.

it carries a specific context of class exploitation, yes, but it’s still different from the kind of criminal coercion characters like clint are caught in.

clint is not a proud working man making an honest living. his entire arc in freaky tales is about being forced into violent labor to pay off inherited debt he had no choice in. he is not rough and gritty because he chose a rugged life. 

he is rough because he was born into a system designed to keep him indebted, desperate, and expendable. he’s not working a blue collar job—he’s surviving in a criminal economy that feeds off people like him, using violence he doesn’t even want to enact just to stay afloat.

flattening clint into a vague ‘marlboro man’ archetype (joel coded)—rough clothes, kind heart, good intentions—it strips away everything sharp and painful about his actual story. it whitewashes the complexity of being a latino man criminalized by birth and survival, not by choice. it reframes his struggle as a generic americana fantasy about working-class virtue, when what’s actually at stake is how structural violence forces people into roles they never asked for.

especially when it’s a latino character, this flattening isn’t neutral. it erases the realities of racialized labor, racialized criminalization, and survival. clint’s tragedy isn’t that he’s a gruff tough guy with a soft interior. his tragedy is that he was forced to become violent in order to pay off a life he was never allowed to own, and he carries that weight without any guarantee of getting free.

you can’t understand clint if you don’t understand that. and if you’re not willing to sit with that discomfort, what you’re writing isn’t really him—it’s just a projection of a character he was never allowed to be.

clint and joel might overlap in aesthetics, being single girl dads, and physical strength—but reducing clint to a copy of joel misses everything that actually defines who he is, and why his story matters.

joel miller is a texas man—a man shaped by frontier mythology, southern survivalism, deep mistrust, and violent individualism. he is, by his own admission, a man whose grief and guilt hollowed him out so badly that even his brother was scared of him. he’s not just traumatized; he’s actively dangerous, closed off, and isolated. his story is about losing his humanity and clawing parts of it back, maybe too late.

clint is not that. clint is an oakland man—east bay, west coast, working-class and criminalized, not because he chose violence but because he was born into debt he could never pay off. he’s an underdog, not an antihero. 

he’s soft with his woman, he lights up under her attention. he’s goofy in the video store with the clerk. he’s not some hardened loner who scares everyone around him. he’s just a man trying to survive a system that was designed to use him up.

when you flatten clint into joel, you’re misreading two characters with different emotional cores and fetishizing the aesthetics of pain and ruggedness while ignoring race, class, place, and survival context.

clint isn't a texas cowboy. he’s not steeped in frontier violence or manifest destiny myths. he’s a west coast underdog who knows every step he takes could get him crushed, and he still tries to protect the people he loves without letting it rot him from the inside out.

the tragedy of joel is that the world took everything from him and he let it turn him into something colder, crueler.

the tragedy of clint is that the world gave him no choice- he says he was born into breaking bones to pay off his father’s debt, and he still tries to hold onto his softness anyway.

if you can’t tell the difference, you’re not seeing clint, you’re just projecting a fetishized joel trope onto another character… 

i died

Young One

Din Djarin x Poe Dameron

read on ao3

Masterlist : Star Wars Masterlist

My Ko-fi

Summary: Poe, a young spice runner is trying to figure out his place in this world when a mysterious helmeted man approaches him at a bar.

Warnings and content: Age gap (22 and mid 50's), Poe is not a virgin but not much more experienced. Poe had one (1) sexual experience with a man before that did not feel good and was painful, the helmet stays on, not an innocent kink situation as Din isn't neccecarily turned on by Poe being inexperienced (in and out of bed), but he does find Poe funny and likes guiding him. Anal sex, lots of fingers in mouths, praise.

AN: I've never written for Din! RARELY wrote for Poe, both facts would surprise anyone who knows me IRL. Usually in fics, Din is more inexperienced with reader, while Poe fics Poe is a slut (its canon). I wanted to play around with the idea of switching it due to age (and no reader)

An hour or something before I posted this, I saw @ivystoryweaver posted a Poe x reader, so i thought i'd share it here!

MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU! (and with your spirit)

3.3k words

Divider by @dreamland-gallery

Being a spice runner was not as glamorous as he thought.

Don’t get him wrong, Poe Dameron was no idiot. He didn’t think it would be easy living by any means; it was illegal, after all. He knew there would be feast or famine. Still, he thought there’d be a little more feast… Stories of Han Solo, ones unable to be separated by fact or rumor due to the New Republic trying to clean up his image, lead him to believe there would a lot more fun, a lot more food, and frankly, a lot more sex.

Poe wasn’t a virgin, by any means, but he hadn’t exactly been around, either. Growing up, Poe didn’t get into much trouble. Zorii said she could tell he was raised by a grandparent, that he had that air about him, which Poe took a bit of offense to, if he was being honest. He hoped she’d fuck him, at least, but alas.

His stomach growled. Thinking to his credits, he should have enough money for some soup and still pay for the hotel in the morning. If not, he supposed he could just skip out. It was a seedy motel, the kind of place that didn’t want galactic authorities involved. 

Half a bowl of soup later, Poe at least didn’t feel lightheaded, but his senses were not about him enough to notice the stranger eyeing him until the helmeted man sat down at the bartop next to him. Poe raised a curious eyebrow, but given he had a mouthful of soup it was the man that spoke first.

“They let you eat on the job?” His voice was altered by the helmet, but there didn’t seem to be a voice modulated in use. It wasn’t particularly deep, but definitely male.

“I’m off the clock?” Why does this guy care if he eats?

“Then you might want to remove that bandana from your pocket, young one.”

This did not help matters for Poe, only adding to the confusion. Still, he reaches back, feeling the forest green bandana he used to keep sweat off his forehead hanging out his pocket. “What? Why? Oh gods, is this a gang thing? I swear, just a spice runner, I’m not a part of-”

But the man just chuckled, cutting Poe off. “Gods, how young are you? And when was the last time you ate real food?”

Feeling just a little indignant, Poe only answered half. “22, and I don’t think-”

Again, he was cut off by the man flagging down the bartender. “Get the boy a sandwich, a side of ahrisa and something to drink, on my tab. Put the soup on there too.”

“I don’t-”

“I can see your ribcage under your shirt, take the food. And, if I may, some words of advice.”

Sitting back against his chair, Poe picked up his cup of soup and lipped it to his mouth to sip before answering. He hoped he looked cool. This guy? This guy was cool. “Seems like you’re going to give it anyway.”

Another small chuckle through the helmet. It was shiny, as was his uniform. Beskar, if he were to guess. “First, don’t go around announcing to every stranger your age. You look like you could pass for 25, and aging yourself younger will make things worse. People worse than me are more than ready to take advantage. Also, don’t go telling everyone you run spice. I think that’s supposed to be day one of training. I could have been a cop. Don’t talk to cops. Lastly.” He grabs the headband out of Poe’s pocket, leaning in intimately close but not pulling away once the objective was achieved. He holds it up to Poe’s face. “Don’t let handkerchiefs hang out of your pocket. You're flagging.”

Although he was certain it was making him sound more naive than he wanted to in front of the mysterious stranger, he asked, mouthful of soup again. Fuck he was hungry. “Flagging?”

He swore he heard a smile in the man’s voice. “Green handkerchief means your open for males to approach you for paid sex.”

Poe choked on his last bite and he had to pound his chest to cough up the bantha bite. “S-sex?!”

“Is it the paid part that scares you so bad, or the fact you’re attracting males?”

A blush crept up Poe’s neck and he hoped his upturned collar hid it, but it was doubtful. Poe had been around a time or two, one of those round trips being a less than stellar fumble with someone who also didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t mean badly, and they’d remained friends, but the memory hadn’t exactly made Poe gung-ho to  get anything put up inside him. Poe’s food came, and despite his embarrassment he couldn’t exactly say no to a nutrient dense meal right now.

“That’s why you approached me, isn’t it?”

“Smart boy.”

More blushing. “And… that’s why you bought me food?”

To his surprise, the man shook his head, voice a little softer, despite the shining helmet. “No.” It was firm, clear. He wanted to be understood. “I bought you food because I’ve been in the same position, young and hungry. Anything that happens is what you want to do.”

There was a beat while Poe processed the words, ashamed to say he was deepthroating the sandwich as he considered them. Thank god there was a band playing, otherwise the man might have heard a bread-muffled whimper, moan, or whatever he could call the noise that left his throat.

After he chewed a rather large bite (a process that took well over a minute, Poe and him making what he presumed to be straight-on eye contact through the black of the mask), Poe swolled, hard. “Anything that happens?”

He held out his hand. “Din Djarin. And what’s your name, young one?”

*

His mouth tasted of leather; a glove covered him, covering the sounds trying to escape his mouth as Din’s other hand palmed his fully erect hard-on.

“Impressive.” He complimented what Poe could only assume was his size, but he was too hazy to think too hard on it. He wanted to kiss him, to take off his helmet and taste him, but Din wouldn’t let him. “I got one rule, the helmet stays on. Understood?”

“Y-yeah” He didn’t care, as long as he got to cum. He was so hard, it was painful, much more so  than the hunger pains that bit at him earlier today. He definitely wasn’t sleeping with the mysterious older man because he bought him food, but the act had made him feel safe enough to engage with.

A tight squeeze through his pants, Din pressing his body against Poe’s so he could feel his hardness. The helmet felt cool against his burning cheek; foreign and enticing all at once. He clutched for the metal and the fabric between the plates, desperate for something to hold onto as he quickly began falling apart at the seems.

“And you?”

“Huh?”

Din buried the front of the helmet in Poe’s neck, and he swore he heard him smell him. Could he smell through the helmet? He’d heard of some sects of Mandolorians that wouldn’t remove their helmets, and now the pieces were coming together.

“Things you don’t do or don’t want. Like that.” Despite still being grovely, Din’s voice was encouraging.

Poe swallowed, trying not to cum in his pants right away and embarrass himself, but it was getting harder. “I uh- ohfuck, I don’t know?”

The movements still, and Din removed his hand from his cock, giving Poe a moment of reprieve and clarity of thought. He lifts his helmet to look at him. Both men aren’t too tall, Poe at 5’8 and and Din a few inches above, but Din has an authority to him, an air of power and confidence that makes him seem so much more as he angles his face down at the younger man.

Poe laments the loss of contact when Din’s body is off his, but as Din pulls off his glove  a finger at a time, drool builds in excitement for what’s to come. Hopefully. If Din decides he doesn’t want a scrawny inexperienced loser, he thinks he might simply die. Or his dick might explode. Either one. 

“Have you ever been touched, young one?”

Poe began to stammer. “I- Well, yes, it’s just, well a lot has been happening and, you know, my grandma kept a sharp eye-”

Thick fingers nudge at Poe’s lips, and he opens willingly. “Don’t talk about your grandma when I just had my hands on your cock, Poe.”

Unable to speak, Poe just nods and begins sucking on Din’s fingers.

“Now, I’m going to ask you yes or no questions. Just nod, or shake. Can your pretty head handle that?”

Poe starts to talk, but Din slides his two fingers in deeper, making Poe gag.

“I said, shake your head. Or nod. Or is that too complicated for you?”

Poe shakes his head, and another gloveless hand runs it’s fingers through Poe’s curls. “Good boy. Now. Have you been inside someone?”

Poe nods and sucks.

“Good. Now, has anyone been inside you.”

Despite being lulled by Din’s dominance, Poe winces a bit. He nods.

If Din noticed the wince, he didn’t say, but he did pause.

“And do you want me inside you.”

NODDING NODDING NODDING!

Din chuckles, then removes his hands from his mouth to begin undoing Poe’s buttons. “Now, you are going to tell me if there’s something you don’t like, or if you want to stop. I only want what you want, understand?”

Poe nods, and Din chuckles lowly again.

“You may speak, young one.”

His voice was sticky, dripping with his need and desire. “I understand.”

The last button undone, Din slides the shirt off him, letting it fall to the ground in disregard. He looks at his lover's body. 

“Beautiful.”

*

When Din had approached the young boy, he initially thought he was a hooker, just… a really bad one. Maybe that’s why he was so goddamn skinny, not getting any clients, and Johns certainly don’t pay a flat rate. He figured he’d feed him some good food, they both have a good time, he gets a warm bed to sleep in. Din had more than enough to buy him for the night, give them both a reprieve. He didn’t love sleeping with the helmet, but it was worth it for some skin to skin contact, a body to hold at night.

But after talking to him, realizing he wasn’t a hooker, just stupid, he still felt that same mix of pity and attraction he did when he saw him walk in the doors of the bar. He wasn’t joking, the button of his ribs showed.

Din’s fingers traced down the sides of his lover’s body, sat with Poe’s legs on either side  Both had gotten almost naked, Din’s helmet stayed on, and now Din wanted to assess what he was working with.

He felts the bones underneath his skin, fingertips tracing over the ridges and bumps. He really should eat more. Was the spice business really doing this poorly under the New Republic? Or had he joined a bad team? He’d probably do better as a hooker, the way he was blessed by the force with a perfect face, dark curls and soulful eyes. Could get any gender he wanted, could even be high class on Canto Bite… and yet, Poe was here with him, those eyes blown out with lust, cock absolutly dripping precum onto his thin stomach, just for him.

“Now tell me, Poe, when you were taken, was it unpleasant?” Din had seen the look on his face when he had recalled it, and wanted to know what he was working with. If it had been traumatic, Din wouldn’t deny the desperate boy if he truly wanted him. He was old enough to know what he wanted, even with an old man like him. He just needed to know how careful to be.

He looked like he was considering lying again, so Din encouraged him to tell the truth.

“It hurt.”

Something stirred in Din, something dangerously strong for a hookup. He wanted to protect him, to go back and harm whomever had harmed him. “They hurt you?”

“He didn’t mean to! Neither of us knew what we were doing. It was just…” Poe hesitated. “Awkward. Didn’t feel very good… then sometimes it did,but, I mean, putting something there I guess that’s normal.”

Din could not wait to show him how good it could be. He raised his hand to him again, loving the way he was so receptive, so willing and ready to listen. “Get it nice and wet.” Poe wrapped two hands around his wrist, holding him there as he licked and sucked and slobbered all over the hand for him. He bet his tongue would feel good on his cock, but that was for another day. Or not. He’d likely never see him again after this.

“Good boy.” He praised, then, scooting back and sliding a hand between his ss cheeks, Din slowly put two fingers inside him, watching the way Poe’s eyes rolled back. “It’s not supposed to hurt.” He assured. “A stretch, not pain. You will tell me if there’s pain, understood?”

He could only nod, turned into a mess in his bed. Din worked him over, opening his tight hole, scissoring him open. He would do this right, he would show the boy how good it was supposed to feel. He would not make it hurt. Poe’s fingers desperately gripped at the bedsheet, moaning and writhing all sprawled out before his eyes. Sweat was beginning to stick his curls to his scalp, but one long lock fell to his forehead. 

All the must of the cheap tavern couldn’t compare to the sweet smell of a man’s sweat, a man’s desperation; none of the clamor or noises outside could compare to the sounds Poe made now. All of that existed after him, elevating him, drawing Din’s senses not away, but to the treasure in front of him. His cock throbbed, begging Din to put it in to slam into his ass until he filled him with so much cum it would leak out of his for days as a reminder of what they shared, but it wasn’t until the third finger fit comfortably inside him, splaying the fingers open, that Din decided he was ready.

His uncut member nudged at Poe, Din’s hand sliding the foreskin back and forth as he touched himself. “It hurts, you tell me. Even if I’m about to cum, you want to stop, you will tell me.” It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a suggestion. It was decided.

Poe's fingers were tight on the bed sheets, not in pain but pleasure. “Yes sir.”

He looked at his hands. “You’ll pull off the sheets” Din stated, with a ‘as a matter of fact’ tone. The sheets being pulled off didn’t really matter, but Din leaned over to take the white-knuckled grasp, threading their fingers together. He placed his other hand flat on Poe’s sternum, wanting to feel the skin on his, to feel his stomach move as he swallowed and lungs breath as he gasped. To feel human, to feel real.

He pushed inside, and Poe’s hands clutched his for stability, for comfort as his eyes rolled back in his head.

This is how it should feel, young one. Din thought to himself. It’s supposed to feel this good. Could be better. If I got to know you, helped you explore, learned what you like… You deserve someone that good to you.

But they had tonight, and he would make this count. He’d lay him so right that from now on, Poe would consider Din his first, not whoever it was that hurt him, accident or not. Being someone’s first is sacred, and Din did not take the task of repairing what was done lightly.

Din thrust inside him, feeling his cock swallowed to the hilt by his fluttering hole, watching Poe’s mouth fall open and that ringlet of a curl on his forehead bounce intime to his cock slapping on his stomach.

“Need you to breathe.” Din reminded him. “In when I squeeze your hand, out when I let go.” 

Poe nodded, and did what he said, breathing in and out until he relaxed, the tension leaving his body, his hole loosening and Poe was left with nothing but the feeling of being full.

“S-so good…” He moans, fucked-out face lost in lust, a haze around him as he grew closer and closer to his orgasm.

“Do I make you feel good, Poe?”  He slowly pulled out, them rammed his cock deep inside. And again. And again.

“So! Gorram! Good!”

Din wrapped his fist around Poe’s dick, jerking him off. He wanted to cum, to claim him in a primal way. “You will scream my name when you cum, young one” Fast, fast, his cock slicked with pre-cum and sweat. “Let them all know who-”

“DIN!!” Poe came in a leg shaking, bed rocking orgasm that overtook his whole body. The sweetest moan escaping from between those lips Din wanted to bite so bad. The lips he wanted to fuck. The lips he wanted all over his body…

His orgasm hit him like a speeder, and Din gripped Poe’s thighs so hard he worried he might bruise him, but Poe just moaned harder as his orgasm finished out, spilling rope after rope on his stomach and Din’s hand.

Din wanted to lick the white seed off his happy trail.

*

“Good” Poe responded when Din asked how he felt as he cleaned the boy’s mess. Good didn’t even begin to describe it, but he was so exhausted, he hoped his sleepy smile told the full story.

The wet rag whipped at his stomach. Poe had never made such a mess taking care of himself, it was like Din’s hands and cock were magic. He couldn’t imagine going back to masturbating after that, he didn’t want to. He was waiting for Din to say ‘okay, get the hell out of my room’ instead, it was,

“Do you want to stay tonight?” which surprised him. He never had someone bed him and ask him to stay.

“Oh, yeah but… i have a room, and my stuff is-”

Again, firmer. That tone Din uses when he wants Poe to be direct and clear. “Yes or no. Do you want to stay the night?”

“Yes. Yes I do.” He couldn’t imagine getting out of bed right now. Not when he was sooooooo cozy.

“Good. I’ll have your room canceled and refunded and gather your things.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I know, but I will. Now rest, sleep. Shower or bathe if you’d like, but don’t drink the tap water, it’s disgusting. Here.” Din handed him a bottle. “Drink this.” It wasn’t a question. “I’ll be back.”

*

When Din returned, Poe’s items packed neatly in his bag, he looked at the young boy sleeping on his bed. It’d been a long time since he’d bedded someone so handsome, but that attractiveness wasn’t all that was stirring something in him. He’d lived long enough to know what. Dressing down into night clothes, Din went to the bathroom to get some time without the helmet, to brush his teeth and wash up before returning to his lover, helmeted.

Crawling into bed, skin to skin again, Din pulled Poe close. The young man curled up in his arms, seemingly asleep until he muttered, “You’ll be here in the morning, Din?”

“Yes, now get some sleep, young one.”

“M’kay…” He mumbled. “Thank you.”

Din took a strong whiff of him, dizzy with the smell of sex and the musk of the hotel. “Goodnight, Poe.”

“Goodnight, Din.”

Listen. I already have ideas for more. Im obsessed with these two. If this part does well enough, i may write more after i kept up on some other series LIKE FUCKING FINISHING IYWBW

I'm not posting it here but 3 years ago i started writting this series for Han X OC, it was my first fic ever. got 27 chapters in before i got distracted by moon knight. Now im posting it on ao3. now that im doing these overnights and I can write more after school ends I plan on finishing it ;-; something like 10 chapters left? It han x oc, but there will be some poe x oc and kylo ren x oc

Also, I want to write dark!kylo ren x poe and poe x reader x han solo, so, stay tuned. we're returning to my star wars roots.

tagging those who asked and my usual peeps and one or two i thought might be interested. if its not for you, ignore! i wont be offended.

@avastrasposts @for-a-longlongtime (mel said to tag you lol ignore if its not for you!!!) @marshmallow--3 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missdictatorme @clawdee @campingwiththecharmings @alfiestreacle @miraclesabound

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (COMPLETED)

Summary: Part of a band of travelers, your party is slowly picked off one by one, until there are only two of you left. Finding an abandoned cabin in the woods, you decide to make camp there until you figure out your next move. As the seasons change, the nights get longer and longer…

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

One Shot: The Future

One Shot: The Afternoon

Decided to finally watch prospect, but i can only find it on tubi with no subtitles 😔

Welcome to my Masterlist 💌

hi, i'm murphy. my requests are always open - feel free to send any ideas or thoughts you have - i'll always read them all.

note - all of my fics are reader insert. no use of y/n. i don't write for real people, only characters <3

Last Updated - December 14th

❁ - over 1k notes

✯ - a series

Characters I Write For.

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist. 3k Celebration Masterlist. Valentines Masterlist. 5k Celebration Masterlist.

Moodboard Masterlist. My Ao3.

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Top Gun: Maverick

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

The Orange. ❁

You and Jake share an orange. He's in love with you.

For Eternity. (Part 2 of The Orange.)

You and Jake share an orange. He's never loved you more.

North Star. ❁

It's New Year's Eve. Jake is tired of waiting.

I Know Places.

Jake always joked that he'd kill for you. One fateful day, he does just that.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin & Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Why Choose?

A drunken game of spin the bottle gets a little heated. Why choose, when you can have both?

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia

Dr Cupid.

Mickey Garcia passes out in hospitals. Luckily, this time there's a pretty nurse there to catch him.

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Marvel

Bucky Barnes

Lessons in Love. ❁

Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.

Honey Girl. ✯❁

The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Trick or Treat.

You love Halloween. Bucky loves you.

Rest Had Seemed The Sweetest Thing.

Bucky's slowly learning that love isn't a finite resource. aka, Bucky's first Christmas.

Stucky

Letters to the Moon.

Steve is gone. The love you and Bucky have for him isn't.

Wishbone.

You meet Bucky and Steve while on the run. The three of you quickly learn that nothing is more violent than love.

Frank Castle

There's Always Tomorrow.

Frank knows you better than you know yourself. It's a blessing and a curse.

Multi Talented. ❁

Frank shows you exactly what you deserve.

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Criminal Minds

Luke Alvez

Wherever You Are. That's Where Home Is.

Luke might be a mind reader. Only with you, though.

Vice. ❁

Everyone on the team has their vices. It just so happens that yours is sat across the table looking at you.

Spencer Reid

Web of Lies. ✯

Spencer Reid has always been good at keeping secrets. You just never thought he'd keep one from you.

Cowboy!Spencer ✯

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Narcos

Javier Peña

Self Control. ❁

Javi keeps refusing himself what he wants. One night puts everything into perspective.

Yes, Mr President.

There's an endless amount of things you shouldn't do as the President of the United States. Defiling the Oval Office is definitely one of them.

Western Nights. ✯

You don't expect to bump into your dad's best friend Javier in a church basement on the outskirts of town. You also didn't expect to fall in love with him. Life seems to be full of surprises - and Javier was the biggest surprise of all.

Jealousy, Jealousy. ❁

Javier Peña doesn't share.

Two Murphy's and a Peña.

Javier knows Steve's sister is off limits. He's never been one to follow the rules.

After Hours.

You and Javier are stuck in the office in the middle of a heatwave. You're hot in more ways than one.

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Triple Frontier

Time. ❁

You get shot in Colombia. Frankie, Benny, Santiago and Will each have their own ways of helping you heal.

Tethered. ❁

The lines of friendship blur when you’re this close. Also known as - each of the times you’ve kissed Benny, Frankie, Santiago and Will.

Tranquility.

You're not good at keeping secrets from the boys. Turns out, Will isn't either.

Home Is Where The Heart Is.

They say home is where the heart is. Your heart belongs to the four boys you call your best friends. Also known as - four important times the guys told you they loved you.

Will Miller

Champagne Fuelled Confessions.

You come home drunk, and have something burning you need to tell Will.

Best Friend's Brother.

You've known Benny for years. You've had a crush on his brother Will for years, too.

Frankie Morales

Find You.

A bad date brings Frankie Morales to your door at the perfect time.

Rain Soaked Romantic.

Frankie will run across town in the rain if it means finally telling you how he feels.

Santiago Garcia

This Is The Way It Always Goes.

Santiago always comes crawling back. You convince yourself this is the last time - but you both know that's not true.

Precious Girl.

A chance meeting with your Dad's best friend at 2am.

Benny Miller

Adrenaline.

Ben needs a way to work off his post match energy. You.

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The Last of Us

Joel Miller

Pretty When You Cry. ❁

Joel realises his morals are fucked. You realise you like it.

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Succession

Stewy Hosseini

Clandestine. ✯

You and Stewy know it's wrong. So why, pray tell, does it feel so right?

Fully Clothed.

Being Stewy's assistant has its perks.

Consequence.

Stewy's actions have unexpected consequences.

Needy.

You've been waiting all day for Stewy to get home. He loves it.

Play Pretend.

The classic fake dating trope, with a twist.

The Place Where It All Began.

You reunite with Stewy at your high school reunion. Turns out, he's been waiting for you, all this time.

Risky.

The thrill of being caught makes it all the more exciting.

Kendall Roy

Me and You.

You quit as Kendall's assistant. He's been waiting for this day.

Illicit Affair.

You're Matssons wife. You're also in love with Kendall Roy.

Forced Proximity.

The classic only one bed trope, this time with your emotionally unavailable boss.

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The Bear

Carmen Berzatto

The Roommate Collection. ✯❁

A collection of fics based on being roommates with Carmen.

Vienna.✯

Everything is the same. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed. Nothing is the same.

Carmen. ❁

Carmen. Your Carmen.

Denial. ❁

Carmy can’t keep pretending.

Mechanic!Carmen.

Inspired by that picture of JAW in a crop top.

Perfectionist. ❁

Your boyfriend being a professional chef has its perks. Especially when it comes to gingerbread houses.

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9-1-1

Evan Buckley

Lightning Strike. ❁

The two of you deal with the aftermath of Bucks trauma.

Fire Hazard. ❁

The story of your firehouse nickname - and Buck unable to handle you in a sundress.

That Old Cliche. ❁

You swore you’d never give in to the best man and maid of honour cliche. And then you met Evan Buckley.

Eddie Diaz

Best Seat in the House.

Blame it on the moustache.

Evan Buckley & Eddie Diaz

The Look of Love. ❁

You, Buck and Eddie are absolutely, undeniably, head over heels in love with each other. It seems like everyone can see it except for the three of you.

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Sons of Anarchy

Jax Teller

Heatwave. ❁

You cut Jax's hair. He can't keep his hands to himself.

Sundress Season. ❁

It’s sundress season. Jax can’t keep his hands to himself (again).

Filip 'Chibs' Telford

Teach Me How to Ride. ❁

Chibs is teaching you how to ride (in more ways than one).

Handled.

You and Chibs have been walking the line for a little too long.

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Challengers

Two Can Play That Game.

You’re cheating on Patrick. You’re not proud of it, but it just… happened. Patrick’s cheating on you, too. He never meant for it to happen, but it just… did. Imagine the surprise from both of you when you find out that Art Donaldson is caught up right in the middle.

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Steve Harrington

Cherry. ✯❁

The lines of friendship get a little blurry, one unassuming Friday night in December.

Someone Borrowed, Someone Blue.

An engagement party, your childhood best friend, one too many glasses of champagne. What could go wrong?

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Rivals

Declan O’Hara

Forbidden Fruit. ❁

That’s the thing about Declan - he always gets what he wants. It might be wrong… but it feels so right.

Shut Up and Drive.

It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? The one person who riles you up the most is also the only person that can calm you down.

Man of The Hour.

The sexiest thing about a man is his moustache morals.

Rupert Campbell Black

February Sky.

The highs are so high, but the lows are so low.

Golden Girl.

After years of keeping your private life private, everybody’s suddenly talking about your new boyfriend. When it rains, it pours.

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