#and i had a blast writing it

[mllekurtz]

I haven't been talking about it because it feels too good to be true, but lately I've been working on a shadowgast fic consistently again for the first time since the vibes au 🙏🏻

The fic is the follow-up of my shadowgast Witcher au, there are roughly 12k words in it right now (including some outline), and this is one of my favorite passages so far:

In the silence that followed, Caleb took a deep breath and conjured happy memories. The smell of his mother’s kitchen. The moment he mastered his first Sign. Killing his masters alongside his peers and ending decades of torture and oppression for good. The first time he made Essek laugh.

I really hope I can bring this home and share it with you soon. Not being able to write (due to covid, bg3, work, general burnout, my dog's illness, probably other stuff I'm forgetting) sucked massively these past few months. This fic in particular has been on the back burner for literal years, and I'm so excited to be inspired to work on it again. I shall hopefully be sharing more soon!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I hope you take this as the compliment it is intended to be, but you strike the same chord of irreverence-as-love, jokes-to-showcase-sencerity that I get from Chuck Tingle, and I adore both of you.

You have bestowed the greatest honour upon me.

[dceasesd]

why juni ba’s the boy wonder has my favorite jason characterization of any contemporary comic run: a needlessly in-depth analysis (pt.1)

oh boy oh boy am i excited for this one buckle up boys it’s gonna be a long one. analysis under the cut (WITH PICTURES!!)

i, like many others, have many thoughts and opinions about juni ba's the boy wonder that i'd like to express. i was having trouble formatting my rant, though, so i decided that it was easiest to just address some of the common complaints i've seen about the comic and jason's characterization and insert my ramblings throughout it. so far i've seen three main complaints:

the typical boiling down of jason's character to "the angry one"

his lack of strategy going into the fight with the demon is out-of-character

the neighbor's kid interaction

to start with the first one-- when introducing jason's character, in both the second and first issue, ba uses the descriptors "coarse", "bitter", "hardened", "brash" and, of course, "rageful".

so, yes-- i understand where people are having issues with this characterization. however, even if it's overplayed, it's still important to remember that jason is angry, and is driven, in part, by his anger at bruce and the joker. and, as ba highlights, he deserved to be! completely erasing jason's anger is just as bad as defining him with it.

i also don't think it's wholly accurate to say that ba is boiling jason down to just his anger. it might seem like that when only considering the dialogue and narration, but jason's behavior in the comic doesn't perfectly align with how the narrator describes him. while the narration describes him as "rageful" and could be an instance of generalization, jason's actions throughout the comic are more aligned with two other emotions/motivators: fear and despair. we never see jason get actually, properly angry; the closest we get is when he's seemingly annoyed by damian (which i believe could be performative) and when he becomes violent, accidentally hurting damian.

even in this instance, though, he is not driven to this violence by rage, but rather fear. so, while ba states in the narration that jason is driven by his anger, he contradicts himself by highlighting how jason's sadness and terror motivates his character. this could be interpreted as lousy writing on ba's part, but i'm not going to attribute the paradox to that inference. to me, it actually represents a critque of the "jason is the angry robin" generalization, because it calls to attention the discrepancies between how one is described versus reality, an issue that jason both faces in the comics (bruce using him as a cautionary tale when dying WASN'T HIS FAULT) and outside of the comics, as mentioned previously.

furthermore, this highlights the difference between what jason believes about bruce's perspective and bruce's actual perspective (according to damian). jason believes himself to be a "failure", but damian refutes this by describing his conversation with bruce concerning jason, a conversation that does not align with jason's belief. if you couldn't tell by now, perception versus reality is a BIG theme in this comic (and for jason's character in general!)

i was really fascinated by ba's take on jason, because it veered pretty far from a lot of contemporary comics, most of which do, unfortunately, play with the angry robin jason generalization. they've been doing a bit with his fear, too, which has either been pretty fun or the most awful thing ever (i'm looking at you zdarsky. gotham war was fucked up), but what makes ba's jason stand out to me is how he grapples with his grief.

this boy is so sad. ba's jason might actually be the saddest rendition of him i've seen in canon content. we've seen jason grapple a little bit with the despair rooted in his death and resurrection, mainly in lost days, where he cries 3 (?) times, fresh out of the pit and very traumatized.

even in this comic, though, he reacts to his grief with anger more prominently than sadness. that obviously doesn't mean the despair isn't there, though-- anger is just an easier outlet for it (which i could really get into the masculinity aspects of that, but then this would be wayyyyyy too long).

ba's jason, though? that motherfucker is so. sad.

christ he's depressing. AND THAT'S SUCH A FRESH PERSPECTIVE!!!!!!! THANK YOU JUNI BA!!!!!!

now i'm pretty sure some people would argue that this rendition in out of character because he's so sad. to me, though, he's still the same jason; he covers up his sadness with anger and pettiness, redirecting his own insecurities onto those around him to mask his true feelings.

ba quite literally illustrates this in the comic. whenever he is being his snide, normal self, he has his red hood mask on; but when he actually opens up to damian and expresses himself truthfully, the mask is off. ba is highlighting how the classic jason anger and bitterness is, in part, a performance and coping mechanism.

this post is already too long, so i'll go over the two other critques in a different post, which i will link below (eventually). if you guys have any thoughts you'd like to share or discuss, my dms and asks are completely open! if you made it this far, i hope you enjoyed my ranting. look out for another post soon! :))

part 2 / part 3

[superprofesh]

The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Part 1

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: The first time Colt Seavers almost kisses you — on set, with lots of paint involved.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.1k

Tag List: let me know if you want to join! :)​

Author’s Note: This is part 1 of what I hope will be a six-part series, but it can be read as a stand-alone too. I am so obsessed with Colt right now that I can't even see straight, so just take this and do whatever you want with it!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

The first time Colt Seavers almost kisses you, you’re not sure it actually happened.

You’ve been on set for about two months now, and your job as set decorator for the biggest action thriller of the decade has ended up being way more challenging than you expected. Every day, it’s a new demand from the director — more realistic graffiti, more subtle light fixtures, more beat-up furniture. It’s going to look amazing, but you’re exhausted just thinking about another day of smearing grime on the set walls by hand.

The one bright spot of every day is Colt Seavers. He’s the best stuntman in Hollywood, so naturally he’s been recruited to perform stunts for almost every scene in the movie. Watching him get thrown against walls, riddled with bullets, and dropped from dizzying heights is heart-pounding for you, but nothing gets your heart pounding as hard as when he leans a little too close to you, so close you can see the dusty brown of his eyelashes against his soot-stained skin.

“Nice sign,” Colt quips, dropping onto the picnic table seat next to you. You’re hand-painting a bright-red Do Not Disturb sign for the next scene, and you barely manage to keep from smearing the paint when you whirl to face him. “Is it for your trailer door?”

You give him a mock glare, laughter slipping through the edges. “Very funny. It just so happens that you’ll be kicking this sign in half in tomorrow’s scene, so show a little respect.”

Colt’s eyes sparkle at your words, all his attention focused on you. He leans forward on one elbow, the other reaching up to ruffle the dust out of his hair. “Wow, a handmade prop just for me to kick in half?” He grins, inclining his head in a mock bow. “I’m honored.”

You can’t hide your return grin, or the blush rising under your skin at his close proximity. Colt always has this effect on you — never pushing the limits to make you uncomfortable, just taking up space with you in a way that steals your breath.

“What’s this?” you ask, using your free hand to tug on the shoulder of his fireproof vest. One side is seriously singed, close enough to his skin to set you to worrying.

Colt shrugs, flashing you a crooked smile that makes his left eye crinkle. “Little pyrotechnics mishap,” he informs you casually, brushing imaginary dust off his arm and onto you. You roll your eyes at him playfully. “Ray got a little overexcited with the stun grenades.”

“What?” You can’t keep the concern from slipping into your voice, even though you try to disguise it behind a joking tone. “You’re working with real stun grenades now?”

“Well, yeah,” he says, as if it should be obvious. “It’s only a stunt if it’s real, you know?”

You narrow your eyes, cocking your head to one side. “I think that’s the opposite of how it works, actually.”

Colt just laughs at that, the golden rays of the setting sun turning his tanned skin golden. His smile is warm and directed entirely at you, heating up the blush in your cheeks again. You turn your eyes back to your painting to keep from completely giving yourself away.

These past few months have been both paradise and torture for you. You thought you could hide your crush easily enough — it’s not like you haven’t done that before. But with Colt, it’s different. He sees through your stoic facades and teases out your laughter, searches for ways to make you smile even on your bad days. Whether it’s pulling a goofy face at you from his rig or remembering that you like sour cream in your soup, Colt has found some new way to surprise you every day that you’ve known him.

The thing is, you’re not sure if he’s actually interested in you or just being flirtatious. Misinterpreting the signals would be awkward and painful for you at this point, so you’ve decided that he’s just going to have to make the first move. You’re too old to play middle-school games with him.

Even if he does give you middle-school butterflies all over again.

You don’t realize that you’ve been lost in your thoughts until you notice that Colt has imperceptibly moved closer to your side, peering over your shoulder as you put the finishing touches on the purposely-sloppy sign.

“So I kick the sign in half tomorrow,” he says softly, his husky voice in your ear sending goosebumps over your skin. “What happens if we have to do another take?”

You risk a glance over your shoulder at him, letting a coy smile slip. “Do you really think this is the only one I’ve done?”

Colt just lifts his eyebrows at you and smiles, returning his eyes to the sign in your hands. Colt has a way of burning you up just with his gaze, and you can’t help breathing an inner sigh of relief every time he focuses his attention elsewhere. Concentrating on anything when he’s looking at you is impossible.

“You know, I could definitely give you some pointers on set design sometime,” he mutters, as if he’s genuinely musing on the thought. You know he’s warming up for a joke, so you let him continue, hiding your smile while he watches over your shoulder. “I have tons of experience in your department.”

“Oh, really?” You grab your black paint and begin the focused task of sprinkling the sign with the darker color for a realistic touch. Realism is the key to making memorable set designs, and you’ve mastered the technique.

“Mm-hmm.” You feel the murmur reverberate in his throat when he leans forward, resting his chin on your shoulder while you lightly dab your paintbrush in your paint bottle. Your heart skips at least three beats when you feel his hair tickling the side of your neck, his eyes still locked on the sign as if he’s studying it. Does he really not know what he’s doing to you, or is he doing it on purpose?

You try to keep your hands steady while you feel his chest rise and fall against your shoulder. Struggling to hide the tremor in your voice, you tease, “What could I improve about this piece, then? I can always use an expert opinion.”

He tilts his head to the side, his chin still resting on your shoulder. You can feel the bristly stubble on his cheeks now. It’s an oddly comforting sensation, one that forces every bit of your self-control to the brink in order to keep yourself from moving your face to the side and nuzzling your cheek against his. You feel his face move slightly as his mouth turns up into a smile.

“If you really want some advice…” he begins, lifting one hand up to trace the edge of your sign.

“Careful,” you warn him, “that’s wet paint.”

Colt doesn’t even get close to smudging your paint, but that doesn’t stop you from lifting your free hand to rest on his wrist, holding it in place while you set your paint bottle down. Colt stills at your touch, and your heart accelerates again at the gentle way his fingertips rest on the edge of your sign.

He lets the moment hang in the air between you for a moment, then comments, “I was just going to suggest a nice artist’s signature. See this big gap right here between Not and Disturb? Your name should go there in big red letters.” You’re already swatting his hand away playfully as his serious tone devolves into snickers. “Just like Bob Ross does on TV.”

“You are so ridiculous,” you laugh, glad to feel the tension slipping out of the atmosphere. Colt lifts his chin off your shoulder now, his hair brushing your earlobe as he does.

“No, it would look perfect,” he insists, his eyes sparkling as his smirk widens. “And then I can aim right for your name when I kick it in half tomorrow.”

He laughs out loud when you slam the sign down on the picnic table surface in mock irritation, your grin making your amusement at his joke obvious. The slam sends a few drops of the black paint from your brush flying up, spattering your jawline.

You reach for a dry rag nearby, still grinning as you prepare to respond, but Colt stops you with a hand on your arm. “Allow me,” he says seriously, placing your hand back into your lap and raising his other hand to the side of your face. You freeze in place, unprepared for the wave of emotion that washes over you when Colt touches the side of your jaw softly.

His eyes are still sparkling with humor, and you know he’s about to do something to make you laugh, but you can’t help the feeling that sweeps through your heart when you’re face to face with him, one of his hands holding yours on your lap and the other just beginning to cradle your face. It feels so gentle, so intimate, so right, and your heart aches as you realize that there is no going back from the feelings you’re developing for Colt Seavers.

He hesitates for a split second, his hand hoving on your jaw for practically no time at all, but it feels like a lifetime to you. You watch his dark blue eyes as they dart down to look at your lips, flitting back up just as quickly to latch onto your eyes with a stare that could melt diamonds.

Then the corner of his mouth turns up again into his usual smirk, and he strokes his thumb across your jaw to smear the black paint up the side of your face.

“Now,” he offers, “don’t you think you look more realistic?”

He dissolves into laughter as you reach up and feel the streaks of black now smudged across your face. You immediately reach past him to dip your fingers in your bottle of red paint, giving him a mischievous grin as you slather three fingers’ worth of paint across his nose and cheeks. The combination of his semi-shocked expression and the ridiculousness of his painted face pushes you over the edge into another fit of laughter.

“You’re the one who will be on camera,” you retort, smiling wider than you can remember doing in a long time. “Shouldn’t you be the one who’s realistic?”

“Touché,” he acknowledges playfully, rubbing his face and only succeeded in smearing the red paint further across his face. “Though I doubt Tom Ryder is going to accept any glimpses of my face on camera, so I won’t even have to wash this off.”

You impulsively reach up and drag your fingertip through the splotch of paint on his cheek, resisting the urge to draw a heart and settling on a simple smiley face instead. His own smile resurfaces at that, eyes twinkling as they stay locked on yours.

“If you keep it until tomorrow, you’ll match my sign,” you muse, trying to lighten the atmosphere, which has suddenly grown a bit more intense now that Colt’s gaze is focused on you again.

He doesn’t look away, doesn’t play it off, doesn’t do anything that you expect from him. His breathing seems to slow down, while yours feels like it takes off in a flurry of movement. Colt doesn’t make a move to touch you, but you can feel the distance between the two of you closing infinitesimally.

You’ve never noticed the flecks of silver-gray in his eyes, or the almost-invisible smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, or the ragged cut of his hair right beside his ears. Even the brilliant red streak only serves to bring out the golden tones of his skin, the swirls of blonde in his hair. Every detail of his face seems vivid, as if you’re seeing him for the first time.

His eyes seem to drink you in, too, traveling over every inch of your face before stopping on your lips again. This time, though, he doesn’t flick his eyes back up. Words escape you, as do any coherent thoughts. This is it. He’s actually going to kiss me. This is real.

“Seavers, on set, ASAP.”

The squawk of his walkie-talkie shatters the intense moment, and both of you release a breath that felt like it had been held for an hour. Colt swallows, smoothes his hand over his beard, turns to slip the walkie back into his pocket. You turn back to your painted sign quickly, trying to regain some composure.

Uncharacteristically, Colt doesn’t speak as he stands and turns to walk back to the filming set. He does, however, glance back at you the moment you lift your eyes to watch him walk away. Your heart is still hammering, recovering from his closeness to you.

With a wordless smile, he reaches up, swipes a bit of red paint off his face, and presses it onto the tip of your nose in the shape of his fingerprint. Then he walks away.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Part 2

[backfliips]

I illustrated a scene from my latest Wyllstarion smut fic --- in which twenty years after the fall of the Netherbrain, Wyll returns to Baldur's Gate to slay the one monster he left behind.........

RATED EXPLICIT - NO CONTENT WARNINGS APPLY

[peggingdemons]

Thinking about you

Basically Satan jerking off thinking about reader

Satan x Gn Reader

Satan's fantasy is is the same font I'm using right here so to (hopefully) not confuse people

Warnings! Satan thinking about reader (duh) , petplay and one use of a "good girl" on Satan (in his dream)

Satan couldn't help it he was only a man after all.. But the way you talked to him yesterday, teasingly calling him a "good kitty" after seeing him run after a book you threw...

Fuck just thinking about it makes his pants feel tighter..

Those words just purred out of your lips, the little smirk you had and the way you just looked at him like he was just a little house kitty.. He felt hot, needy and excited just thinking about that.

Being your kitty

Just yours and no one else's

Fuck his pants were getting tighter... He needed you..

Satan couldn't help himself as he brought his pants and boxers, watching his cock spring out and hit his stomach

Those words you said just set him ablaze. Satan slowly teased his tip trying to get pre to use as lube before he started slowly stroking himself.

Those words.. Your words.. Calling him a "good kitty".. What if you did it again? What if you petted him while saying how good he was?

Satan let out a small breathless moan just thinking about it

What if you told him to act like cat? Crawling on all fours for you.. Collaring him.. Allowing him to please you-

Satan started speeding up his hand, whimpering out at the idea

"You're a good kitty.. Right, Satan?"

"I know you are~.. So crawl.. Crawl over here and please master~"

"Uh huh.. S-s'ho good for you..." Satan whined out loud. Dreaming about you owning him, all yours, your kitty made more pre leak out from his tip

You grabbed his hand bringing it to your sex "be a good cat and please me" Satan nodded "Y-yes.." "yes what?" "yes... M-master". He started rubbing on your area letting little moans come out of you

"That's it.. Good kitty... Good girl.. That's it.."

As soon as the dream you came Satan shot his lode all over his hand

"Ah.. Ah.. Dammit.." Satan groaned , now he had to clean this up... At least the idea was nice.. Maybe he could get you to actually make him a kitten for you

[deedala]

art for shameless big bang fic:

Last Night at the Verona Grand Hotel by @the-rat-wins

special thanks to @whaticameherefor for taking over the organizing!

[thefrogdalorian]

Ner Aliit

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Travelling through the galaxy in the Razor Crest with a formidable Mandalorian is a harsh, unforgiving life. The feelings you have developed for him as you soar through the stars together have mitigated the unpleasant aspects. Still, you know it can't last. After all, you and Din are from different worlds. He follows a strict Creed and you know that you do not have what it takes to be Mandalorian.

Journeying with the best bounty hunter in the parsec has often brought you face to face with danger. It has never fazed you before. Until one day you come face to face with danger without Din's reassuring presence at your side, and everything changes.

Word Count: 5.4k ✯ Rating:  Teen ✯ Content Warnings: Canon typical violence, reader kills someone with a blaster in self defence (Nothing is described in graphic detail) and subsequently deals with anxiety/panic attacks.  ✯ Author's Note: Today is four years since I watched Mando for the first time so I wrote this to celebrate! Inspired by a little daydream I had while looking at my own Mythosaur necklace. It's an AU where Din never had Grogu but still had shiny beskar, allow it ahah. Really hope you enjoyed it, thanks for reading! 🤍

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

You can already tell from how Din’s footsteps thud a little heavier than usual against the ramp that something has angered him during his latest hunt. Perhaps he will share what precisely has troubled him later when you hurtle through hyperspace towards Nevarro. For now, you head towards the door, ready to help Din haul his latest bounty into the antiquated ship you call home.

Except, the man who stands before you is not Din Djarin.

Instead of the gleaming beskar you had been expecting to greet you on the ramp, a gloomy silhouette moves into view. There is something far darker about your presence than the man you had expected to see. It is not just the grimy, worn clothes he wears that send a shiver down your spine. Nor the way his beady eyes bore into you. They are sunken in his wizened face with a look of pure malice which sickens you to the pit of your stomach.

You are initially so shocked by the fact that the man standing before you is not Din, your eyes frantically examining the features of this stranger, that you almost fail to notice the weapon aimed at you.

Your heart skips a beat when you notice that the man is holding a blaster up at you. He stands unmoving, with his long, grungy fingers curled around the dark handle. The gesture sends a shiver down your spine. However, there is something even more terrifying than the reality of having a blaster aimed squarely in your direction. 

It is the expression on his face.

His glare is unrelenting in his coldness as his finger hovers over the trigger. You do not doubt for one moment that he will pull it.

Throughout your life, you have been exposed to danger many times, even before you met Din. Such brushes with death only increased when you started travelling through the galaxy with a bounty hunter. It was to be expected, of course. You think of the numerous occasions when you witnessed Din becoming embroiled in terrible binds and scrapes while you sat back and watched the carnage unfold. At first, you had been terrified by such violence. Now, you have come to expect it.

Perhaps before you met Din and began travelling with him, someone holding a blaster at you and gazing at you with such viciousness as the man before you would have been utterly petrifying.

However, it seems that the best bounty hunter in the parsec has somewhat hardened you to the realities of the galaxy. 

After the initial shock, you feel yourself accepting your current predicament with remarkable quickness. You assess the man's vulnerabilities and weak points, as Din once trained you to do. You notice a slight quake in his hand, the greyness of his scraggly beard and unkempt, greasy hair. He is not invincible. Soon, the terror you initially felt is replaced with anger; a simmering feeling in your gut as you are incredulous at the audacity of this man to threaten your life in this manner. You are furious at his attempt to intrude into your and Din's safe refuge like this. You are disgusted by him.

You have encountered plenty of unsavoury characters throughout your travels across the galaxy with Din. This pathetic coward does not faze you.

"Where is he?" the man finally speaks. His voice is gruff, his tone sharper than you imagined. It matches his wizened, wrinkly face, seemingly hardened by the decades of experience he undoubtedly possesses.

“Who?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

You know that the man will not buy your plea of ignorance regarding The Mandalorian. Yet, your act will buy you a few precious seconds to execute your plan. Plus, the more you converse with the man, the higher the chance his nerve may waver and that his sympathy for you might increase as you humanise yourself. You hope that by talking to him, his determination to mow you down in cold blood may decrease.

“Don’t play with me and give me a story full of bantha crap,” the man snarls, jabbing the blaster towards you, "I know you know where he is."

“I’m sorry,” you respond apologetically.

You know you must diffuse the situation and undo the damage you have caused with your blatant lies. Without hesitation, you raise your hands in a submissive gesture. Then, when the man does not take issue with a simple movement, you begin backing away from him. Fortunately, he lets you go. You can barely contain your grin as you know what you have in store for him.

Unknowingly, this man is playing right into your hands. 

This old rogue may have thought he could get the upper hand on The Mandalorian by returning to his ship and threatening his travelling companion. Unfortunately, he has underestimated the advantage you gain from knowing the Razor Crest inside out, including all of this old ship's quirks.

When you are satisfied both by the distance you have placed between you and your assailant and your relative proximity to the control panel, which is the key to your plan's success, you fake a stumble backwards. Your hand collides with the button that, when depressed, rapidly releases a cloud of pressurised gas into the hull. The jets that shoot out of the walls soon fill the Razor Crest and form a temporary barrier between you and the man that obscures you from his view. The distraction gives you just enough time to grab a blaster from Din’s workbench and aim it towards your surprise visitor. 

Then, without really consciously thinking about the consequences, you squeeze the trigger.

The sickening thud of the man’s body hitting the floor is the last sound you hear before you retreat up the ladder to the cockpit and seal yourself inside behind the secure door. You are pretty sure he will no longer prove a threat to you, but you have no desire to stick around and find out for definite. The reinforced door will provide sufficient protection, hopefully long enough for Din to return. 

Given that someone managed to reach the Razor Crest and callously threaten your life, you cannot imagine that Din will be far away. If the man has accomplices, you do not doubt Din's capability to take them out before he returns to ensure your safety.

Yet, as the minutes pass by Din is nowhere to be seen.

You are unsure how long you sit on the hard floor with your back to the door, trembling as you sit there. At first, the tremors that have overtaken your body may well be thanks to the frigid metal. Its coolness certainly does not help. As the adrenaline wears off and the realisation of what has just transpired dawns on you, you rapidly become reduced to a jittery, trembling wreck. 

Your state of mind following the skirmish is made worse by the paranoia which overtakes you. 

Initially your primary concern is for your own safety. You brace yourself for the companions of the man whose body lies below you to barge in and finish the job their ringleader started. You wonder which weapons they may possess. 

Would you try to fight them off, or should you flee?

You wonder whether you could even begin the launch sequence of the Razor Crest and fly away in search of Din. He has attempted to teach you how to fly the ship for emergencies such as this, but to your presently terrified brain, the dashboard looks like a confusing conundrum of buttons.

At the first thought of him wandering through the forests which cover the planet’s surface, your overactive imagination now runs away with the worst scenarios of what could be happening right this instant, elsewhere on this planet. 

Visions of the Mandalorian you love, lying in a ditch somewhere on this forest-covered planet, injured and frightened after being ambushed by the same band of dastardly scoundrels overwhelm your senses.

The fear that Din will never return to you, that the depth of your feelings towards him will remain unsaid forever, shatters you. 

You are unsure how long you sit there. Each creak and noise of the ship, noises that you are usually so familiar with and accustomed to now work against you, startling you each time. It is a constant cycle of alarm as your breathing rate picks up and your pulse rate thunders in your ears each time there is a faint thud. You feel your resolve draining with each disturbance.

So when you hear the sound of the Razor Crest's ramp whirring as it lowers to the ground, you barely have the energy to react. Instead, you are relieved that you are now seconds away from meeting your ultimate fate. One way or another, you will finally be put out of your misery. Whoever enters the Razor Crest will not be met with much fight from you, whatever their intentions.

When you hear footsteps this time, you believe that the thuds are indeed the familiar rhythmic, certain sounds of your favourite bounty hunter. Until you lay eyes upon him, however, you will not allow yourself to believe that fact.

Fortunately for your anguished soul, you get confirmation of Din’s return before ever laying eyes upon him. 

“Cyare?” Din calls, his deep voice cuts through the ship up to the cockpit where you continue to cower in the cockpit, “Are you alright?”

You are so relieved to hear him that you could almost burst into tears. Before that happens, you must give him some acknowledgement that you were unharmed in the skirmish.

“I’m up here in the cockpit, Din,” you respond, alarmed at how your voice trembles as the adrenaline has worn off, “I’m alright.”

You push yourself up on shaky limbs to stand and prepare to reunite with the man you have grown so close to. You aren't entirely sure when it happened, falling in love with Din. You certainly never intended it, nor did you imagine that the aloof bounty hunter who was so stoic and barely spoke could reveal himself to have such a beautiful soul beneath his cold, metallic armour. Yet, somewhere along the way, as you hurtled through hyperspace together, you did fall in love with Din. 

It was not one moment but rather a collection of smaller fragments which, when pieced together, form the warmth that spreads in your chest each time you think of Din. It has been the late-night conversations sitting in the red leather chairs of the cockpit, reminiscing on your past lives. The ability that Din possesses in never failing to make you laugh. Even on days when you feel despondent. It is how considerate Din is of you; he never fails to check on your well-being and ascertain whether you can handle one more job or whether you should return to Nevarro for a few days of rest.

All of those moments and more contributed to your present feelings for Din.

You realised how deeply you cared for him when you first noticed your overwhelming desire to please him. The fact that, without even realising it, you had learnt how he liked his ration packs prepared even if you could never enjoy a meal together, given the helmet restriction. You realised that you had attentively watched how Din polished his weapons and studied how he stored them so that you could alleviate some stress when he returned from another hunt and needed to rest. You have noticed that, even though your lives are in many ways different, you both retain the same core values and principles. Honesty, integrity and loyalty are traits you both hold dear.

Only moments ago, it had crushed you to think you would never get to enjoy such moments with Din again.

Now, you stand here, practically bursting with joy as you realise you will soon be back with the man whose presence you yearn to always be in. You can hear his feet hitting the rungs of the ladder that leads up to the cockpit and take a deep breath to steady yourself, even though your entire body quivers with the last dregs of adrenaline and the anticipation of seeing Din again.

The door opens. The familiar glint of the Beskar you had been expecting to see earlier finally comes into view, soothing your nerves instantly. Din surges towards you. You barely have time to react before his arms are around you. He brings a gloved hand up to your chin, holding your face in one hand while he secures his other arm snugly around your waist. You are grateful that he is holding you so tightly. Without his strong arms, you are unconvinced whether you could remain vertical. 

“Oh, cyare," Din exhales, his voice trembling under the weight of his emotions. "I was so worried when I saw the body down there. What in Maker’s name happened here?” Din asks, deep voice full of concern.

“I heard footsteps that I assumed were yours, but when I got there, the door opened. You weren't there, Din. I was so scared," you confess, your voice trembling too.

"Dank farrik!" Din harshly exclaims. You startle in response, and he tightens his hold around you, bringing your chest flush to the cold metal of his armour, before apologetically adding, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay, Din," you whisper in reassurance.

"Forgive me for my outburst. I was just frustrated that I couldn't be there for you. The same group, I assume, ambushed me. It took me a while to fight them off. I should have been here," Din shakes his head, "Anyway, do you want to tell me about what happened?"

You nod, your bottom lip trembling. You take some breaths to steady your nerves as you try your best to ignore your reflection in Din's helmet. If you pause for too long and perceive how fragile and broken you appear, you know you will crumble entirely.

"Well, I stepped up to the top of the ramp expecting to see you. Instead, that man was standing there. He held a blaster up at me. I was so scared that he was going to shoot," you squeak, voice barely above a whisper now. Din moves his hands up and down your back in soothing motions, comforting you enough to continue: "I managed to distract him enough to retreat with my hands up. Then I pretended to stumble and push the button on the control panel, which discharged the pressurised gas. It gave me the cover to grab your blaster on the workbench. And then, well, you saw...” you squeak out as you feel hot tears trail down your cheeks.

You permit yourself to fall apart now, knowing that Din is here to pick your pieces up and place you back together. He brings a hand to your cheek, wiping your tears away with his gloved fingers. A smile ghosts across your lips at the sensation of the buttery texture against your skin.

“You did so well, cyare,” Din whispers. "I promise you, you're safe now. No one will hurt you," he adds soothingly.

Din brings your head into his cowl. He gathers you to him and protects you from the anguish. From this position, you can faintly feel the warmth which emanates from the man beneath the beskar through the coarse yet soft material. The dark brown material is a sharp contrast to the hard, coldness of his armour, a sliver of humanity amongst the many facets of the formidable Mandalorian warrior. You never feel safer or more protected than when Din takes you into his arms and holds you close. The relief is immediate, but it does not stop the emotional outburst. Tears continue to stream down your face.

“I was so scared Din,” you manage out between the sobs that have suddenly overwhelmed your fragile state of mind.

“I know, I know. But I’m so proud of you,” Din says.

His ordinarily steady voice trembles with emotion except when he emphasises how proud he is of you. To know that Din Djarin himself is proud of you makes your chest ache with joy. You have made this strong, stoic warrior proud. It makes your head swim with glee. Yet, it only adds to the myriad of emotions which overwhelm your trembling body.

Din holds you close, but you cannot stop crying. The embarrassment you feel at your outburst further contributes to your distress. The tears flow in earnest now, Din’s cowl surely becoming damp with the moisture that has escaped your swollen, irritated eyes.

“Shhhhh my love, ner kar'ta,” Din soothes as he rocks you, “You’re safe now. I've got you. You’re safe.” 

With his comforting words and the way Din holds you, your sniffles eventually subside. Still, Din holds you until you can barely stand anymore.

When you can stand no longer, when your body finally succumbs to the emotional toll of the day, Din is there to coax you into moving. Somehow, 

Din manages to skillfully manoeuvre you into descending the ladder. You are too tired to question quite how it happens. The next thing you know, you are tucked up in the bunk. There is barely enough room for Din, yet he manages to lie beside you, holding you until you drift off.

Finally, you allow yourself to fall into the warm embrace of sleep…

✯✯✯

You remain confined to your bunk for most of the return trip to Nevarro. The skirmish took its toll on you. In your lethargicness, you struggle to have the energy to do anything other than sleep. Din is patient and attentive with you, taking care of all the maintenance jobs and meal preparation that you usually assist with.

Yet, it is not just the stress of events and the inescapable fact that you have claimed your first life which weighs on your mind. It is trying to figure out what the future looks like for you and Din. 

You have never met anyone like him. He is intelligent, caring and skilled in anything he turns his hand to. He provides for you. Since you began travelling together, you have wanted for nothing physically or spiritually. Din is diligent and attentive, always on hand to pick you up if things prove too much. He makes you laugh like you never have with anyone else you have met. Until your ribs ache and your cheeks hurt from grinning. You think of the hours spent together sitting in the red chairs of the cockpit as the blues and silvers of hyperspace streak outside the windows, illuminating Din's armour in a way that leaves you mesmerised.

When you first started travelling with Din, you were sceptical that you would ever grow close to a man who kept so much of himself a mystery. His face was hidden behind a helmet and you knew him only as Mando. How could you ever form a bond with someone so elusive?

Now, you understand that you do not need to see a person's face to know them entirely. There is no doubt that you completely understand who the man underneath the beskar is. You trust Din Djarin with everything you have. 

Although it took him long enough to honour you with knowing that name, now you speak it often. While he vows that he will know yours eternally, for it is the Mandalorian way to say, “I love you.”

You cannot imagine your life without him. 

However, as much as you care for Din and are certain he cares for you in return, you know you will never have what it takes to become Mandalorian. It is why you have held back from your feelings, never permitting yourself to return the sweet words and affectionate nicknames. Your destinies lie in opposite directions. You will never be truly worthy of his love.

It is a thought that leaves you thoroughly despondent as you lie in the bunk. If you are this distressed after taking a life in self-defence, how would you ever be able to participate in his culture, his identity, which is so dear to him?

Without that fighting spirit within you, you are sure you would never be able to be Mandalorian. Without being Mandalorian, it will be impossible for Din to build a life with you.

Whatever relationship the two of you have is more than likely fleeting. You will part when it becomes apparent that you are too fundamentally different to prove a compatible pairing. You know that. 

Yet, it does not stop the melancholia that such a fact provokes in you.

You understand that one day, Din Djarin will leave your life.

Knowing that evidence of your fundamentally opposing ways of life will become evident once more shortly leaves you inconsolable. Once the Razor Crest lands in Nevarro so the bounties can be offloaded Din will leave you alone for an indeterminate amount of time to be with his covert. 

Since you are not Mandalorian, you are forbidden from joining him. 

The thought of not being with him devastates you. Yet, the prospect of being alone on a planet without Din downright terrifies you after your brush with death.

Although you are frightened, you are determined not to let him see your discomfort. 

After all, it would be unfair of you to hold Din back from spending time with his tribe.

You know you will never be able to join him, yet you still respect Din's creed. You admire his devotion to his Way. You do not judge him for it, even if you are baffled by some rules Din must adhere to.

Yet, there is another reason you keep your emotions to yourself. 

You do not want to worry Din any further.

Following your brush with death, Din has been fussing over you so much that you almost feel smothered. He is watching you intently to check that the fact you have taken another’s life does not leave a scar on you. He constantly reassures you that it was self-defence and that you did the right thing. When you wake up screaming after terrible visions haunt you, Din is there in an instant to soothe your anguished soul.

Even though you are grateful for how much he cares, you want to be left alone. You feel guilty, as though you are a burden to him. Here you are, taking up so much of his precious time and energy when you are not even a member of his tribe. 

So, when Din informs you he will depart the Razor Crest to join up with his covert after the old ship finally touches down on Nevarro, you are glad to see him go.

Even if being on such a skughole makes you unsettled. You wish that you had Din’s comforting presence around to soothe your soul. But non-Mandalorians are not permitted to enter the covert’s hideout, and you respect that rule. 

So, you are alone. 

You pass the time polishing and reordering Din's assortment of weapons so they are exactly how he likes him upon his return. It is penance for the tremendous amount of extra effort he exerted in taking care of you during your journey here.

After you finish cleaning Din's most prized possessions, you stand before the weapons locker, adjusting each blaster and rifle until they are arrow straight. Din is fastidious when it comes to organising his armoury. You want to please him.

It is a task that you are still engaged in when you hear the ramp whirring. The noise makes you panic initially. Until, for your benefit, Din calls your name to reassure you that it is him returning; no one is here to harm you.

Your initial anxiety is soothed instantly by the sound of his deep voice. The apprehension is replaced by a smile at the way the syllables of your name warble through his vocoder.

You hastily close the doors to the locker. You weren't quite finished with your task yet. You do not want Din to catch a glimpse before everything is perfect.

"You're back quicker than I expected," you observe, greeting him with a look of surprise across your features.

"There was only one matter I wished to settle," Din shrugs.

"Oh?" you raise your eyebrows, wondering if it is connected to the drawstring pouch made of dark material he carries in one hand.

"Concerning you," Din simply says.

You are rendered speechless. Your initial concern is that Din has confessed to travelling with a non-Mandalorian. Perhaps it is forbidden for his tribe to befriend outsiders. Your stomach drops as you panic that Din has been forced to leave his covert in disgrace.

What if, after the skirmish, Din decided to leave you behind here on Nevarro and simply needed to ask his tribe's leader for advice so his nerves did not waver?

Your frantic train of thought halts at the thuds of Din's footsteps approaching you. Mercifully, it seems you are about to discover the nature of their conversation.

"I have something for you," Din explains as he reaches into the drawstring pouch and produces a shiny object attached to a string.

You are curious about the mysterious relic before you. You do not hesitate to reach your hand out, your palm up, ready to accept it. It glints in mid-air before Din places it into your palm. 

The sensation of the cool metal of the mysterious object

proves to be an intriguing yet comforting presence in your hand. It soothes you instantly. It is a grounding sensation you badly need. Especially after the dark places your mind has wandered to. Terrible visions and eventualities your imagination has frequented a lot recently since your brush with death.

You realise now that it is in your hand that Din has brought you a necklace. Peculiar. You wonder what in the galaxy an item of jewellery could have to do with his covert.

The metallic pendant is a shape you do not recognise; there is a long, thin strand of dark brown leather attached to the charm.

“Do you know what this is?” Din finally asks after he has left you alone to survey your gift.

You shake your head, looking up at him questioningly.

“This is the Mythosaur, an ancient creature our ancestors once rode. It is a symbol that belongs to all Mandalorians,” Din explains, gesturing a gloved fingertip at the shiny object.

You see now that the metallic outline appears to be the skull of a creature you have never heard before. With its sunken black eye sockets and intimidating, sharp features; the Mythosaur is a little intimidating. Still, you are mesmerised by its pointy teeth and long tusks. It is quite unlike anything you have ever seen. You run your thumb over the ridges, enjoying the sensation of the metal in your hand.

"I had it forged by my tribe's Armorer from the excess beskar of my new armour," Din explains, "The chain is taken from a strip of my bandolier, too."

"The craftsmanship..." you whisper, awestruck, "It's beautiful."

Then, Din says something which catches you completely off-guard. 

“I want you to be part of my Clan, cyare,” Din announces.

Your mouth falls open. You look up at Din, stunned at his declaration. He does not want to leave you behind or cast you out. He wants you to be with him forever. You begin to feel the rumbling of tears somewhere deep inside your gut. You almost allow yourself to smile.

Almost.

Your moment of happiness shatters when you realise joining Din's Clan likely comes with an expectation to be Mandalorian. You hope the necklace does not come with the assumption of committing yourself to something you remain unsure that you want for yourself. 

Yet bringing that up to Din would surely disappoint him, a terrible prospect. His Way is of utmost importance to him.

“But, Din… I’m not Mandalorian,” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears as you remind him of your differences.

“It doesn’t matter,” Din shakes his head.

"Are you sure?" you breathe, stunned.

"I'm positive, cyare. You can take this necklace to any Mandalorian and say my name. If you present this to a Mandalorian covert and tell them Din Djarin set you, they will ensure you are protected and safe for as long as you need. No matter where you are in the galaxy.”

“Even though I’m not Mandalorian?” you whisper, astonished. 

“Yes. One does not have to walk The Way in order to be protected by us," Din nods.

You are stunned. For so long, you had mistaken Mandalorian covertness for exclusion. You had believed they disliked and distrusted anyone who did not follow their way of life. Now you realise that you had entirely misconstrued their seclusion. Mandalorians, it transpires, are fiercely protective over anyone they care about, an honour not restricted to their own kind.

"After what happened, I want to feel reassured by knowing that you would have somewhere to turn to for refuge if something like that were ever to happen again. More than that, I want you…” Din sighs, steadying himself. “I want you to be part of my Clan,” he adds, his voice full of certainty.

“I couldn't possibly be worthy of such a thing,” you shake your head, unable to meet his gaze, "I shot one nerfherder in self-defence and look at the toll it took on me," you scoff, fiddling with the necklace and avoiding Din's gaze.

Din is unsatisfied with your words. He brings his hand to your chin and tilts it upwards until your eyes are level with the steely gaze of his dark T-visor.

“You are absolutely worthy,” Din adds with finality and certainty in his voice that causes your chest to constrict, “You have shown as much fight and resolve as any Mandalorian warrior would be proud of. You may not be Mandalorian, but you have our spirit. Our manda, our soul. You do not have to be Mandalorian to be loved by one. So, it would be the honour of my life if you would join my Clan, cyare,” Din adds solemnly.

He takes his hand from under your chin and balls it into a fist. Then he raises his clenched fist to his chestplate and holds it over his heart. He bows his head in your direction, wordlessly demonstrating his affection for you.

With his beautiful words and deferent actions, how could you refuse such an offer?

“Then, I will happily join your clan, Din Djarin,” you whisper.

You watch with curiosity as Din takes the necklace from your hand. Then, he softly places a gloved hand on your shoulder and gently turns you around. You realise what he is doing when the pendant slides down over your chest. You smile as you feel the cool metal make contact with your skin through the cloth of the simple clothes you wear. The thin leather is a comforting presence around your neck, especially when combined with the weight of the Mythosaur.

You turn around to face Din once again. You are unable to prevent the grin that spreads across your features. For the first time since that terrifying encounter with that ghastly man, you feel a true sense of tranquillity. You no longer find yourself plagued by fear for the future.

You realise that you should probably make some profound speech of gratitude. Instead, you sigh in contentment as you stand before Din. You are too happy to find words, perfectly content merely to stand before the man you adore. A man whom, thanks to the necklace you wear around your neck, you are now bound to. 

Din brings his hands to your sides, resting them against your body as his thumbs rub fond circles into your hips. There is no fear, no uncertainty anymore.

The future for you and Din is bright.

Din eventually sighs fondly, cupping your chin with his gloved hand.

“It suits you,” he nods in approval.

You smile at the gesture and turn your lips into his fingers, placing a kiss on the soft leather there. Then, Din brings your forehead to his helmet in a gesture he has assured you is akin to a kiss in his eyes. For now, at least, it is the only way he can kiss you.

You stay like that for a few moments. 

Eventually, Din's deep voice breaks the silence. 

“Ner aliit,” Din whispers. Then adds in basic, for the benefit of your ears:

“My family.”

[ribbittrobbit]

Delicious D20 a zine for @d20zinejam from me and @yeehawpim

Featuring three recipes from Gilear, Mother Goose, and Colin Provolone, with additional baking tips from Mrs. Molesly!

More Zines for 2024 D20 Zine Jam!!!

[minecraftbed]

Grian snorted, and Scar returned the laugh in a small giggle. “Right. Um- yeah. Guess I changed my mind at some point. You’re so… different from what I was expecting. In the best way possible.” He paused again, cleared his throat. “You know I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth, right?”  As soon as he said it, he regretted it, his face heating up - those were the thoughts he was supposed to keep private, supposed to push deep, deep down - but Scar smiled. “I do know. And I’d do the same for you.” 

HELLOOOOO YIPEEEE. here are my pieces for the incredible fic to the ends of the earth by the talented gaylotusthatexists for @hermitshippingbigbang !!!

i really really really loved this fic, if u like scarian, fantasy, and beautiful world building then i need u to go start reading it RIGHT now. <3 (my pieces here are being posted with the final chapter, today, so it is ready for you to read in full!!!!!! go go go)

[maomango-doodle]

Preview of my comic for @vashwoodzine !! :D

Preorders are open until August 2nd!

[phonydiaries]

could I perhaps get some of P being oblivious about lots of human behaviors still and going to the reader with questions ???

yes you fucking can

Lawful Dumbass P Headcanons

Pinocchio was initially very intrigued when you explained him where you can find and a human's heartbeat. He would sometimes hold fingers to your wrist and just below your jaw out of the blue as if needing to double-check your status as living, just in case.

On one occasion he presses his head to your chest and listens to the dull thump of your heart in a sort of trance. However, he jumps back in surprise upon hearing your stomach rumble. He looks at you with wide eyes in utter shock. You assure him about a million times that this is normal and unlike him, humans get hungry all the time. He is not entirely convinced and seemed to think there was a creature hiding in your torso for days.

While you're writing one day, he notices you absentmindedly biting the end of a pen, deep in thought. He starts doing this when he's pacing around Krat, although he really just grabs whatever happens to be nearby that could vaguely fit in his mouth. You've seen him try this with one of Eugenie's screwdrivers. She did not want it back.

You told Pinocchio a secret once and made him pinky swear not to tell anyone. He cocks his head to the side, confused. You take this opportunity to explain to him that a pinky promise is a time-honored human tradition of the utmost severity, a symbol of trust never to be broken. "In fact, if you are ever to go back on your word," You speak in a low grave tone, extending your pinky finger to him, "you'll be cursed. Forever." He takes this very seriously, locking his finger solemnly with yours before laying his hand over his heart with a stern expression, now forever oath-bound to you. It's damn near impossible for you to hold back laughter. As far as you know, he still believes you to this day.

There was a time that he came to you seemingly insecure, feeling wholly overwhelmed with an existential line of questioning about his burgeoning humanity. Was he really still only a puppet? Could he ever truly be considered human? Was he some unknown third possibility, alone in his otherness? You try in earnest to comfort him, assuring him that his exterior is irrelevant in the end. Though he may not be made of flesh and blood, it's what lies beneath the surface, deep inside, that matters. He seems to really consider this, and immediately retrieves his literal mechanical heart from his chest, holding it out to you quizzically. You gently push it back into his hands and shake your head. "Oh. No. Not like that." You stammer in complete awe.

[0m3n-0f-d3ath]

Kat and Lily

They find each-other in every universe💥

[spitblaze]

Listen. Listen to me. Having privilege in one form or another, even situational and conditional privilege, doesn't de facto make you a bad person. A transmasc that applies to a job with their chosen name, whether or not that transmasc passes otherwise, will have privilege over a transfem applying to that same job, because of societal sexism. That doesn't suddenly mean that transmasc is a violent asshole putting transfems at risk, it just means that as a transmasc you gotta be more cognizant of how you navigate the world. It doesn't mean you don't experience oppression. It doesn't even mean you don't experience oppression unique to being transmasc! What it DOES mean is that whether you like it or not, your relationship to women and non-men are inherently different than they would be if you were a woman. And you're gonna have to reckon with that. You can't stop women you don't know from viewing you as a potential threat, but you can use what privilege you may have if you're stealth or pass to advocate for women, and trans women, and other trans men, and to. Y'know. Check yourself once in a while and make sure you're not falling into the toxic masculinity and patriarchal mindset so many of us have already suffered at the hands of.

[mikichko]

I’m so excited to get more of teacher reader, only slightly because I just *know* Ghoap is gonna unlock a major breeding kink with her and they’ll be fighting to see who knocks her up first(they make it seem like a joke to the reader but both are looking up ways to increase sperm count or old tales on fertility because they love each other but they want to /win/). They want Zach to be a big brother *soon*

Pookie I'm about to start calling you BT because you and I HAVE to be Bluetooth connected or something!!! You're literally in my brain seeing the direction I'm taking the story! At least once I figure the timeline out :')

But breeding, a reader who’s been single for a while, general trust, and intimacy in the relationship as it delves deeper into it are all things as the relationship progresses! Golly we haven’t even gotten to the courting part but fuck it we ball

more concise talking under the cut! also a LOT of filth

cw: depictions of sexual acts, afab!reader, reader has a vagina+clit (am i tagging this right, pls let me know!)

I think that both Johnny and Simon have breeding kinks but it’s not present at all with their previous partners. It honestly stays dormant for quite a while. Even before they were together, when they were bedding different partners the two of them strike me as people who keep everything as safe and as clean as possible. Condoms, contraceptives, Plan B’s if necessary. Like sure, the idea of sliding into someone, to feel their warm walls around you is as enticing to them as it is to anyone. They’re just better at having self-control. It’s been beaten into them.

With Simon in particular, there’s a special kind of trust you have to have to feel him. We know how he is with his identity and his mask, it’d be even more intense in sexual settings. Especially considering the trauma that he’s been through, I think he’d be a bit more sensitive in this sense. It’s something similar with Johnny, he has to have a level of trust, and doctor's approval, to properly allow himself to enjoy the moment. That and the fact that Johnny is an absolute romantic in this AU so that plays a big part. Honestly, he was the one that started courting Simon so like, that man is a romantic hands down. Romance trumps the whore behavior, at least in this AU.

It’s not really until they get together that they realize what a delicious feeling they’ve been depriving themselves of. It’s been years since Johnny’s had a serious partner and Simon doesn’t strike me as the type who did a lot of long-term dating. At least not long enough to build the trust that he needs to expose himself like that. But his first time with Johnny? Simon nearly cums right when he presses his head into Johnny. It’s such a good fucking feeling to feel Johnny around him that he loses his mind for a bit and turns Johnny into a puddle beneath him. Makes a mess of him on his bed. It’s like a damn breaks after that first time, they just can’t keep their hands off each other. It’s a good thing it happens on leave otherwise Price and Gaz would’ve been fucking annoyed with their shenanigans. 

But yeah, this is like the first step of them discovering that kink. That and the feeling that they get when they cum in each other? Unparalleled. For Simon it’s knowing that his seed is coating Johnny’s walls, marking him in a way nobody else will. There’s no need for hickeys, bites, or anything else, (though he enjoys leaving them regardless) when Johnny’s cum is coating his fingers and Simon’s is dripping out of him.

For Johnny, it has more to do with the trust and vulnerability that Simon is granting him by allowing him to do this. Of course, everyone is turned on by the fact that they can turn this behemoth of a man into putty below their fingers but it’s the fact Simon bears this vulnerable side to him that really does it. I told you, this man is real romantic. Simon trusting him, not only to have the “control” when they switch (they are switches in this au sorry) but also to let him cum in him?? Yeah, nothing gets Johnny going like that. Not as important but I really do think that when Johnny’s on top he loves missionary just so he can cage Simon’s head between his forearms and rest his forehead on Simon’s. Loves that shit.

Which leads me to another thing: parenthood and this new relationship unearths so many new turn-ons that they never expected. It’s one thing to walk into the kitchen and see Simon’s wide back as he stirs something on the stove for breakfast. It’s another thing entirely to see his scarred back as he holds the world’s sleepiest boy on his hip, rubbing his back soothingly until he falls back to sleep. It just stirs something deep within Johnny, awakens the primitive part of his brain that screams at him to spread his seed.

Similarly, Simon’s always been attracted to Johnny’s headstrong nature. Adore’s the way this man is loyal to those who are loyal to him and will defend them with his life, something he did for Simon many times in the field. But it’s just a little different when he sees Johnny riled up and defending their son. The way his stomach clenches at the sight of Johnny’s red cheeks as obscenities fly out of his mouth at anyone trying to wrong their boy. Simon’s own cheeks run hot, just a bit, embarrassed at the fact that this is what causes his blood to flow southward. That that’s enough to thank Johnny for later as he rolls his hips into him, one hand tugging at his leaking cock while he tells him how good he was for defending their son.

And then, of course, you come in. There’s no denying that they’re keen on you from the get-go. How can they not be when this absolutely sweet, pretty thing introduces herself so wonderfully to their son? Lowering yourself to his level, shaking his hand, and letting him know how happy you are to have him in your class. Simon’s tongue runs across his teeth, trying to seek out what’s causing his mouth to water. Johnny’s eyes light up with excitement, brazenly looking you over as you stand back up.

That first interaction, the disciplinary meeting, your talks of reassurance with Zach, the treats you send him home with, how you defend him, how you care for him, the way Zach talks about you? 

It all just culminates until they’re both hot with want. Taking it out on each other because they’re not even sure if you’d ever consider them. It’s a period where they’re so hungry for you they’re seeking each other out right after drop-offs and pick-ups. Warm hands, wet mouths, deep thrusts, whatever they can do to fuck the want out of them. It doesn’t get any better when one of them accidentally moans your name and it makes the other groan and set a bruising pace.

You are literally driving them insane and you don’t even know it.

It makes it so much worse because you don’t understand how every time your lips stretch into a sweet smile Johnny’s thinking of what your lips would look like stretched around him. Or how patting Simon’s bicep makes him wonder if it’ll sting when your fingers claw at his back. If you’ll mark him as badly as he wants to mark you. How the shake of your shoulders when you laugh has them both wondering if your body will tremble a different way when you’re between them. Wonder if you’ll taste as delicious as you smell to them.

It’s an incredibly vicious want that they’ve never experienced with anyone but each other. That’s how they decide they have to have you. 

When they finally do have you, splayed on their bed, pupils blown out with want, chest heaving in anticipation for what’s to come, it’s like they’ve been transported in time. They ravage you just like they did each other all those years ago. Calloused hands that work your body gently.  Your body responds so deliciously to their fingers as your nerves remember what it’s like to be touched by wanting hands after so many years. To have someone kiss and tongue at you, eyes closed in worship. To have another whisper into your ear what a pleasure it is to have someone as heavenly as you spread out for them. How rewarding it is to have you after all this time.

It doesn’t help the hunger when you mention that it’s been a while since anyone bedded you. That a move to this country cut you off from most that you knew, too busy with work, and too anxious to even bother seeking a partner. Johnny groans into your cunt as you stutter out apologies for possible inexperience. He loses himself in the taste and feel of you as he relishes the fact that he’s one of the few lucky bastards on this earth to get a taste of something so fucking delicious. Loses himself so much that he doesn’t even register the feeling of your thighs constricting around his ears, your fingers digging into Simon’s thick thighs as Johnny pulls out an orgasm out of you.

Your head’s so fuzzy after that first orgasm that a little strand of drool dribbles out of your mouth that Simon wipes away with his thumb. When the synapses in your brain finally reconnect you mumble out a comment about how that was the first time a man’s ever made you cum that hard. Johnny grins at you, eyes flicking over to Simon as he grinds himself into the mattress. Simon groans, gripping at your open thighs, “Tryin’ to rile up a competition between us love?” 

God knows you would never, you’re not even sure you’d be able to survive considering how long it takes you to regain some sort of composure after how Johnny left you. But it doesn’t matter, the spark is there. It’s like kindling catching fire. Tiny little flames consume them, which you accidentally flame sometime later, when you mention that the summer holiday is bittersweet because your kids always leave. “Always reminds me they’re not really mine know?” You sigh wistfully, twirling the cup of lemonade around, ice clinking against the glass, “Makes me wish I had one of my own.” That’s all it takes for the flames to consume them, bodies hot with want.

Johnny, the dog he is, has been waiting for the fucking day he can sink into you without obstructions. They haven’t discussed who would get you raw first. But Johnny’s an insatiable man, so he cheats. Waits for the one day of the week that Simon and Zach are at footie practice. Finds you in the laundry room, kisses your cheek, and tells you what a good mom you are to their boy. You’re so good with all of the kids. You’d be so good with one from the very beginning, right? Another Riley-Mactavish baby for you to love wholeheartedly. Another one that you wouldn’t have to let go of at the end of the school year, wouldn’t that be so nice love?

This is how he gets you sprawled out in your bed. Has you arching off the bed with his tongue, needs to make sure you’re ready to take him. To take what he’s going to give you. It’s not long after that that he has your legs wrapped around him, a pillow under you so he maximizes the angle he drills into you. knows he did well with the way you wail with every thrust, hands scrambling from his overgrown hair to his back. Pulling and scratching without reason as each thrust of his sends waves of pleasure through your body. 

He rests his forehead against yours, panting with you, “I know peach, I know. Gonna give ye a bairn.” Snarls as you clench around him, nails digging into his skin, “Aye, however many you want peach. Fill this pretty cunt up however many times she wants.” 

He grips your hips to pull them closer to him deepening the angle. Needs to make sure that every single drop has the best chance of success possible. He can feel you clench around him, sneaks a hand between you to rub at your clit. Swirling around it, your own desire lubricating his fingers. He feels you clench around him, watches how your eyes roll back just a fraction as your thighs instinctually tighten around him. His hips don’t stop, fucking you through it until your walls milk him for all he’s worth. Flooding you with his seed, pushing it further into you with every thrust. Overtaken by the primal urge to get all of him into you.

Simon’s not happy of course, he’d been dreaming about how you’d feel around him. How you’d tremble when you finally felt the hot drag of his skin inside of you. But Johnny just had to go and play dirty. It’s okay. Simon can play dirty too. His schedule’s a bit more flexible than Johnny’s which gives him the perfect opportunity to have you twice as much as Johnny would. To have you ride him. He knows that you’ll make plenty of messes for him when he’s touching that sweet spongy spot in this position. Loves the way you lose yourself in the feeling of him driving into you. Hands helping you maneuver your hips down onto him as he thrusts up, drawing tears from your eyes at how good it feels. He can’t help the groans that escape him at seeing how disheveled you become. Tears clumping on your lashes, eyes closed from constant pleasure, hands gripping his shoulders to ground yourself to something. He loves it all.

Loves the feeling of your nectar dripping over him, coating him completely until it’s dripping down onto his balls. He can feel the rivets of you dribbling onto him, pushed from you with every thrust of him. He’s filling you so much you can't help but spill onto him. Has you on top of him until you’ve thoroughly made a mess, collapsing onto him. That’s how he knows it’s time to get you on your knees with your hips propped up to him. Lets you flutter around him, walls so sensitive to the drag of his vein as he finally lets himself loose. Rolls his hips into you at a bruising pace, relishing in the vice grip you have on him. Body pliant as your cunt is anything but. Pulls an orgasm from him, wordlessly begging for his spend. One that he gives graciously and bountifully. 

He doesn’t pull out. Just maneuvers you both so that you’re laid comfortably while he’s still inside you. Ten to fifteen minutes, plugging you up to make sure nothing goes to waste. Wants to give his DNA the best fighting chance. It’s a routine. Twice a day, minimum two loads from him. Soap can always tell when Simon’s got him beat with the way you glow and the little hazy look you get in your eyes afterward.

Speaking of Soap, I’ll get to the competition soon enough, but see Johnny cheated and that’s not really fair. The first time should have been together. Wrapped their hands around each other as they shot their cum into your eagerly waiting hole. Using their fingers to push it into you. Might not have been as effective, but it’d have been symbolic that the baby either of them put in you would be theirs. Regardless of anything. 

But no… our little Johnny had to go and get a little, peckish. So Simon does what he does best, uses a firm hand with him. A firm hand that strokes Johnny, forces him to fuck into the artificial heat of his hand. Tries to run from it only to find himself sinking further onto Simon’s length. It’s a treacherous and lovely push-and-pull game. He wants to cum so bad. Wants to spill all over himself. But it’s for you, it’s meant to go in you. Simon won’t let him though. Fucks it all out of Johnny until he’s shooting clear liquid. When he’s finally spent, Simon slides out of him gingerly and then slides the black ring off himself. Presses a kiss to Johnny’s cheek, reminds him he needs to play nice before venturing off to get a towel and water for him. (I could write a thesis on their aftercare) Now, I’m rubbing my hands together like a fly.

This particular reader has very strong convictions, morals, and just generally strong opinions they hold. So it makes sense they’re quite conscious of the information they’re so readily giving out. Especially with their reproductive cycle and the rise of certain laws across the globe. For some time all she did was drop an all-day event on her calendar app with the title just being a period, just so she wasn’t surprised by it. But with the move, the school year starting up, and just trying to make general sense of your life at the moment you completely forget. Not just that but some prescriptions fall through in the move and you’re not keen on getting involved with men in a brand new country so quickly so you’re just kind of raw dogging (ha) life.

Delicious opportunity for our boys to take advantage of.

Boy, do they take advantage of it. There’s not a single room or surface in the house that they don’t christen with you. They are all over you, you’re all over them. This throuple is just healthy and thriving honestly. (I am def gonna get more into the dynamics in the fics but gollyyy i love them)

It makes sense that because you’re all so together they’re able to pinpoint exactly when your period hits. Always have pads, tampons, chocolate, and muscle relaxers stocked. Will have the heating pad for you ready to go. If you were just a smidge more attentive you’d start to realize that like clockwork, five days after your period, you’re getting tossed around by these men a lot more. Like they have it down to a science! When, where how, who everything is all accounted for and it’s the same ritual every single month until ultimately, it takes. Precious little Riley-Mactavish baby(s) to make Zach a big brother :)

[virtues-end]

I see that Shea is probably the most popular RO at the moment (which I totally get but I just like my MC seeing then more as an older sibling) so I'm just going to amuse myself in the corner by pointing at Elexis and going "that one, the one holding all the red flags".

On that note, can you share any interesting facts about Elexis? I'm desperate for crumbs.

... maybe the red hair was a little too on the nose in hindsight. :-)

I always struggle with providing facts about characters. Feels hard to just boil them down to a few sentences, I suppose. And I'm wary of spoiling things, especially since we're still at the very start of the story. But I'll try:

Elexis loves to read. They were a precocious child, with stars in their eyes, dreaming of knights and royalty and adventure. They appreciate beauty, though it's defined by what they consider to be beautiful. They like to live decadently. They love good food, the feel of rich fabric, glittering jewellery... they're someone who chases pleasure, passion.

And they live as if every day could be their last.